#I still don’t understand American football | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

f0point5 · 1 month

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i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen imagine

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crios31 · 9 days

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Chapter 3: Childhood friends

Story building and fluff

Length 2068 words

“Sana, I think you can release him, others also want to say hello.” says her father looking at the two girls waiting in the room.

“No! It’s been too long since the last time we saw each other!”

“You’re not the only one who misses him, Sana.” retorts one of the girls before pointing to the other, “Look, even Mina hurried to see him.”

“Alright, sorry Momoring.” She ends the hug and takes a step to the side to let the two other girls pass. You notice her cheeks are puffed, it seems she is sulking.

Momo is the first to approach, giving you a strong hug, “Three years, smartass.”

“Yeah, it’s been too long, airhead.” You both stay like this for a minute before letting Mina have her turn, she lightly hugs you and you just have enough time to put your arms around her that she steps back.

“Shy as always.” You pat her head making Mina look down but you can see a small smile while her cheeks get a pinkish hue. “So girls, this is Wendy, she is working for me. Wendy, those are Momo, Sana and Mina, my childhood friends.”

“Pleasure to meet all of you.” says Wendy in English.

The three of them greet her back with Mina asking, “If you are following him as he moves, do you speak Korean?”

“Yes, I was born there.”

Mina smiles and to your surprise switches to Korean. “Good, then it will be easier to communicate with each other.”

“We won’t have to bother Mina to do the translation because the three of us learned Korean” Rejoices Sana as she hugs Mina from the back.

“I knew you wanted to learn it before I left Japan but I didn’t expect both of you to do it too.” You say looking at Momo and Mina.

“Sana convinced me to learn Korean with her and Mina joined us saying it was interesting.”

The presentations now done, everyone follows Sana’s father to the patio where the family of the Japanese trio is waiting.

You greet everyone, starting with Sana’s mother, then Momo’s and Mina’s parents finishing with their siblings. The girls start talking with each other as Kai gets beside you.

“Do you want one?” Asks Kai bottles of beer in his hands.

“Yeah, thanks.” You take a sip. “How is medical school going?”

“It’s going well, I’m finishing general study so the real deal will begin next year.”

“Do you have a specialty in perspective?”

“I may follow dad’s footstep in orthopedics but I still have time to make a decision.”

“Still playing American Football?”

“Yes, I joined my university’s team and it’s a lot of fun. Play something on your side? I see you have a good build now.”

“I mostly played rugby and some basketball. Also started weightlifting recently, and I intend to continue in Korea.”

You continue talking with Kai until you hear Sana's voice. “Guys come here, Wendy has a question and you're both involved in it.”

You join them. “So what’s it about?”

“I wanted to know how all of you became friends? Because from what I understand your families don’t live in the same city.”

“The first ones I met were Momo and Hana. When I was in elementary school, we moved to Japan for my dad's work. Momo's family was my neighbor and the three of us were going to the same school.”

“For the first year he was in my class so we were going and returning from school with him. Furthermore, we played a lot together outside of school so we became fast friends. Then he began to skip some grades, and he ended up in the same class as nee-chan for some time. They got along well before but really became close following this.” Momo says. “ Wendy, I have some funny photos of him as a kid, do you want to see them?”

“Oh yes! I would love too.”

“Careful Momo, I also have some of you.”

“Really you take your photo album with you? I don’t think so, aunty most likely keeps it.” She then sticks her tongue out at you. You can only grumble in response because she is right about that.

“My turn now! So Dad worked under his father and they got along really fast.” speaks Sana. “We regularly meet each other when our parents invite the others for meals or during company events. Thanks to this, when his mother was working to open her first school in Japan, my mom joined the project because she is a teacher. Now Mom is the Headmistress of the private school of Osaka. Also, she got to meet and work alongside Mina's mother. I’ll let you explain this part Mina.”

“Alright, Mom is a lawyer, she was hired by his parents for all of their matters in Japan, for example, she is involved with his mother’s schools from the start. So Mom befriended his mother and later Sana’s, therefore we all got to see each other regularly.”

“At first, Mina was mainly close to Sana and Kai to me. As for Momo and Hana, they met the others when my parents organized a party with their friends and their families. So that's the story of how our little group was formed.”

With Wendy's question being answered, the group continues to chat during the afternoon. The parents join you for a time retelling stories about their kids, some were funny, others somewhat shameful depending on your role in it. When the sun began to set, they went into the house asking you to follow them.

Arriving in the living room, everyone takes a seat with Momo’s parents on your left, Mina’s on your right and Sana’s in front of you.

Mina’s mother begins to talk, “Seeing that this girl, Wendy is following you, should be the one your parents personally handpicked for you. Finally, they decided to explain the hidden side of the scholarship program?”

“Yes, they explained the basics when I met her and I learned the rest from a file Mom gave me before I left. But it lacked information on a specific point, the people running the program for her. I was expecting aunty to be involved with the program because she is in charge of one of the schools.” You say turning briefly toward Sana’s mother. “In your case, your firm treats every legal related topic for my parents in this country, so I was not entirely sure if you would have been in it or if it would have been someone working for you. So are you the only ones related to the program here?”

“Yes, the other only knows about it, nothing more.”

“Then, could you both explain your role in it, please?”

“My role in the program? Well my main task is to write the contract for each recipient of the scholarship when they join but only for those in Japan. I am also involved in the background check of candidates for the scholarship and sometimes to resolve some legal issues that come up.” Answers Mina’s mom.

“In my case, I became the head of the program in Japan when your family moved out. More specifically, I oversee the people in charge of different areas of Japan and the area of Osaka and Kyoto is under my direct supervision. Finally, I am part of the evaluation council in Japan and sometimes the one in Korea.” Explains Sana’s mother. “Do you want to know something?”

“Thanks for the explanation. I’m wondering if any of your kids are aware of this side of the program?”

“Well my daughter knows about it. One day, she read some of the documents I took with me at home. She was very interested in it, in particular the fact that it’s for you.” Sana’s mom gives you an amused smile before continuing. “I decided it was better to explain everything to her. Sana was still interested in my work and the program, so I decided to sometimes include her in my work. Well it’s only limited to asking for her opinion concerning girls of the program because she has a similar age as them, the goal being to avoid or resolve issues for them. And for the other kids…”, she strokes her chin in ponder. “If one of them knows, it would most likely be Mina.”

Hearing that you agree, Mina is the smartest of the group and she has always been very curious since childhood. From this combination results that whenever she wants to know about something, she will always find a way to get the information. Concerning Kai, he is very considerate of his parents' works and the privacy that comes with them. In Hana's case, she is unlikely to know anything because her parents, while aware of the program, are not involved in it. As for Momo, you're not sure because with Sana and Mina they share everything together, so she could have learned about it from them.

“Alright if one of them learns about it, we’ll just explain it like in Sana’s case. Aunty, do you intend to involve more Sana in your work?”

“I’ll continue as it is for now considering the program. But for the rest of my work, yes it will give more practical experience as she’ll enter university to begin her teaching degree next spring.”

You continue to talk with everyone's parents about the running of the program in Japan, they then ask about how your student life was since the last time you talked to them. You answer their questions until someone puts its hand on your shoulders and rests its head on top of yours from behind the couch.

“So are you done with him? Can we have him back?” Asks Hina.

“Yes, yes. Take him with you, we'll have time to talk during the upcoming days.” Answers her father.

You stand just as you arrive before Hana grabs your arm and begins to drag you outside of the living room under the laughter of the parents watching a familiar scene. In the hallway Hina turns to you.

“It was easier to drag you before you got heavier.” She complains

“I build more muscle following my growth spurts.”

“Well yeah you’ve become quite big.” She traces the muscles along your arm up to your chest while looking in your eyes. “And very nice to look at.”

“Thanks, but I’m not the only one who got bigger and nice to look at.” You reply as you lower your eyes to glance at her ample breasts.

“Oh them, they may be bigger than you think.” She says, lifting up one of her boobs with her hand. “You’d like to find out, aren’t you?” She takes a step toward you.

“I would love that and more.” You also get closer to her making you feel each other breath with your noses almost touching.

“Is that so?” She puts a hand on your cheeks and pushes your head to the side. “Too bad it won’t happen and stay as a dream for you.” She then turns and walks toward the end of the hallway. “Let’s return to the other, now.”

“A dream? I like challenges Hina! We’ll see if it’ll stay as a dream or not

She chuckles,“Well if you want to lose your time, suit yourself!”

You both join back the group enjoying your evening. You only return to your hotel far in the night.

For the rest of your stay in Japan, you go out multiple times with your friends. Doing sports with Kai or Momo with their friends, some that you already know. Visiting places you used to frequent in Osaka and Kyoto after a long time, like your old school. You also make the mistake of following the girls for shopping, well it was mostly carrying their bags but at least they were happy. You get to have dinner with the Hirai, the Minatozaki and the Myoui on multiple occasions where you had time to discuss with your aunties and uncles.

But every good thing has to end at some point because it was time for Wendy and you to leave Japan for Korea. Everyone took time to accompany you to the train station in the morning. And hours later, the plane lands at Incheon airport and both of you finally set foot in Korea.

#m reader #male reader #twice #twice sana #twice momo #twice mina #sana minatozaki #hirai momo #myoui mina #misamo #mina #sana #momo #kpop gg

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faithshouseofchaos · 4 months

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Moving on — Charles Leclerc x reader

Part one

Tag list is open

Tagged — @hrts4scarr @lightdragonrayne @purplephantomwolf @amatswimming @bblouifford @bbtoni @badassturtle13 @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @faithm120701 @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @vellicora @venusisnothere @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @67-angelofthelordme-67 (this is all my brain can muster) again taglist is open

I remember talking to @vivwritesfics months ago about this story and I’m finally getting around to writing it 🤭🤭 my original endgame was going to be Sam Hartman but a new player has entered my heart and I’m debating on making him the end game 💗😈 it’s not a f1 driver or American football 🏈 player either 🥅

A vicious cycle 🔄

For as long as you could remember you had been infatuated by the middle Leclerc brother. It was a shame that he didn’t feel the same way about you. Charles always saw you as Arthur’s annoying friend and karting partner. Arthur knew how you felt about his older brother and it hurt him to see you upset every time Charles brushed you off. By the time you made it to Formula One you were 22 and Charles was 26.

Everyone on the grid could see that you were in love with him but Charles. They saw how you looked at him like he had painted the sky.

In reality, Charles knew how you felt about him. That never stopped him from keeping you around. He loved the fact that you worshiped the ground he walked on. You weren’t Charles type but he still kept you around giving you a slither of hope that maybe just maybe he would give you a chance and just when he had you hooked on every word he would pull the metaphorical carpet out from underneath you, and jump into a relationship leaving your friends to put you back together just for him to break you it was a vicious cycle.

A cycle that you couldn’t escape even if you wanted .

“I know I shouldn’t care about him but Arthur I’m stuck, I just can’t get over him.” You replied fighting back tears

“I know it’s not the first time we’ve had this conversation.” Arthur responded with a heavy sigh.

“Your obsession with him is really unhealthy. You need to talk to someone.”

You hate when Arthur was right but he was right it wasn’t healthy you were obsessed with Charles you dreamed about him every night. He was always on your mind.

Arthur sighed “it’s ok we’ve been through this before but if you keep doing this to yourself we both know it’s not gonna end well.”

“You need to let him go and move on.” He said kindly, taking your hand and squeezing it. “I know it’s hard but you deserve a guy who actually cares about you and treats you well.”

“Are you even listening to me right now?” Arthur asked as another tear slipped down your cheek.

“I guess not” you replied as more tears began to stream down your face

“Look I know it’s not easy but you need to stop letting him hurt you, you need to move on.” Your friend added

“I know I should, I just don’t know how to stop loving him.” You replied

You knew you should stop loving Charles but it has become an addiction you want to stop but you are too far in deep.

“It’s not just your fault but Charles is old enough to say enough is enough he is to blame here”

“I know” you respond, wiping away your tears.

“He plays with my emotions. I swear he knows exactly what to say and do to make me believe that there’s a chance I just can’t understand why if he’s not interested in me romantically that he still keeps me around.”

“It’s clear he likes the attention he gets from you.” Arthur adds

“I guess I’m probably just another one of his toys.” You say angrily thinking about all the times he broke your heart.

“Yeah probably.” Arthur said.

As much as you know your friend is right deep inside you still couldn’t let go of the idea that Charles might one day see you as his partner. You’ve spent so much of your time dreaming about him and putting him up on a pedestal. Even though he’s shown time and time again that he’s not relationship material you still find yourself imagining you and him living happily ever after. It was such a toxic cycle but you couldn’t break it.

“Let me ask you this, say you met someone else who was perfect for you and loved you unconditionally. Would you take that chance?” Arthur asks trying to make you think

“Would you give up this toxic relationship you have with Charles in exchange for a beautiful one with a man who would love nothing more than to see you happy?”

“I guess I would,” you replied after a minute of pause. Your friend could see the wheels turning in your head. You were starting to think about what if. What if Charles really was holding you back from an even better love or even just general happiness.

Arthur smiled “just think about it will ya” he says and after that you head to bed to get some sleep.

All night long you lay awake thinking about what Arthur said. You realize for the first time how unhealthy your relationship with Charles is and you finally see your friend is right. You have to let him go.

From now on you are going to focus on other things. You’re going to focus on yourself and your friends. You’re going to ignore Charles every time he flirts with you or makes those annoying comments that make you believe he wants you. You’re going to move on from this cycle you have found yourself in for too long.

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its-time-to-write · 11 months

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Hello! I absolutely love your work. You’re a fantastic writer. Is it possible for you to do something based a bit off of the song London Boy by Taylor Swift? If not I understand. I just feel there’s some cool way to tie it with Jamie Tartt. Sorry if it’s a bit of a generic request

ALRIGHTY gotta preface this, I actually hate this song 😂 Lyrics aren’t bad, but the like accent thing she does makes me die a little bit. BUT. I saw what you were going for (I think)! So here it is, I suffered through listening to this song bc you asked for a fic and I am nothing if not eager to please.

This is also a response to two other requests. So if that was you, ✌️😗 y’all were on the same page, congratulations. This is also my first song-based fic, although all of my works are (very, very loosely) based on songs. That’s why they have such insane titles😅 ANYWAY that’s enough talking from me. Enjoy!

i fancy you

i love my hometown as much as Motown, i love So-Cal

Richmond in London is very different from your hometown in Southern California. It’s colder, for one. And older. Things in California don’t have the same extended history as they do in England. You’re here visiting family for a couple months, although your cousins are trying to convince you to stay longer.

“What do you really have waiting for you in California?” Holland asks.

“Uh, the beach. Sun. Great Mexican food.” you respond.

Holland isn’t buying it. “When else are you going to be able to live here? We can help you get a job and all that, not a huge problem.”

Holland is very convincing. You decide to stay for a year, single year, and see what happens.

Holland is four years older than you, and has always been the cousin you’re closest to. You’ve had a long-standing bond since being the two eldest sisters in your family. Holland takes you to clubs and introduces you to her friends, including a Miss Keeley Jones who thinks you are “abso-fuckin-lutely adorable.”

“You have to bring her to a Richmond match, babes,” Keeley says. “Lots of fit footballers.” She winks.

You ask Keeley of she’s dating a footballer.

“Oh god no,” she shudders. “A coach.”

You don’t really see the difference.

saw the dimples first and then i heard the accent

It was a good match, even you can tell. The Richmond team played seamlessly, passing the ball back and forth without letting the other team even touch it. Their conductor of sorts, the one mediating the passes, was crazy. He never seemed to get tired, anticipating his teammates’ moves and those of the opposing team. It seemed like he was always five steps ahead of everyone. Holland notices you watching him and pokes Keeley.

“You like Jamie?” Keeley laughs. “Makes sense. Anyone with eyes likes him. He’s right fit, too. Good in bed, shit with feelings. Well, used to be. Still fucking cocky.”

That’s interesting. “You’ve been with him?” you ask.

Keeley gives you a 50/50 hand motion. “Sort of. Don’t really count it, do I? Was with him at his fucking worst. That’s why Roy fucking hates him.”

“He’s much better now,” Holland chimes in. “Something happened last season and he stopped being such a dick.”

“Holland!” you reproach, laughing. “That’s not nice!”

She and Keeley shrug. “It’s true though, innit?”

You don’t know if it is, because when you first see Jamie up close in the club later that night, he seems perfectly fine. You see a flash of a smile, a dimple, then he says something (you don’t know what) but his accent is… something else. It’s not like Holland’s, or any of your family, but you know enough to pinpoint it to Manchester.

“The accent got you, didn’t it?” says a voice near your ear and you yelp as Holland slides her arm around your shoulder.

“Gets the best of us,” says Keeley, grabbing your hand. “C’mon, I’ll introduce you.”

She drags you over despite your protests.

he likes my American smile, like a child when our eyes meet, ‘darling i fancy you’

Regular dinner dates are scary, but dinner dates with a Premier League footballer are downright terrifying.

You made Holland help you figure out what to wear, and when she showed up at your aunt’s house she had Keeley in tow.

“Heard you’re in need of a bit of a makeover,” she grins. “Lucky for you, that’s my specialty.”

Keeley and Holland have brought some of Holland’s dresses and you’re in a dark green one that “does fucking wonders for your hair, babe.”

Keeley did your makeup while Holland curled your hair and just like that, you’re ready to go.

You groan, “God, I fucking hate first dates,” while shaking out your arms.

“It’ll be fine,” Holland promises, and she’s right.

It’s more than fine. It’s fucking fantastic.

“I like your smile,” Jamie says. “Fuckin’ American, it is.”

You laugh. “What does that even mean?”

Jamie shrugs. “It’s bigger. Brits are more reserved. Like Roy. You met Roy yet? Biggest fucking twat I ever saw,” but he says it with such affection that you’re sure he means something else.

His eyes are electric, blue and dazzling. They betray his every thought and feeling and right now you feel like if you hold his gaze any longer you’re going to say something completely stupid.

Turns out your not the one to say something stupid; he is.

You’re walking back to his car, holding hands and swinging them in between you when he stops and says, “Darling, I fancy you.”

You grin and he returns it. He asks, “Was that British enough for you? Feel like you got the whole experience?”

“Definitely,” you say. “Was I American enough for you?”

“Dunno,” he replies, “Got to test one more thing.”

His lips are very soft on yours.

met all of his best mates, so i guess all the rumors are true

“This is Isaac, Colin, Dani, and Sam.”

Jamie is introducing you to some of his team. You’ve been dating for a month now, and your first picture together just popped up in the papers the night before.

The boys of AFC Richmond were pretty sure Jamie was seeing someone, but they didn’t know who it was. Jamie had set up this dinner thing a while ago, it just so happened that the tabloids got to you first.

It’s not even that great a picture honestly, but you’d been around Nelson Road enough that the boys were able to recognize you.

It’s a little unnerving to meet them, what with Isaac’s intense stare and Dani’s wide, wide smile. You’re grateful Colin and Sam are acting normal.

“We have an American coach,” Colin says in an attempt to break the ice. It does, because you’re all laughing at the absurdity of his attempt.

“We have heard very much about you,” Dani says and you wonder if he ever stops smiling. It feels so weird and so normal to be at Jamie’s house with a pile of food and FIFA queued up on the TV, ready to go. You figure that if you’re meeting his friends, Jamie must be at least a little serious. He finds your hand and squeezes it under the table as Isaac cracks his first smile of the night. It’s weird dating a footballer, but you think you can get used to it.

babes, don’t threaten me with a good time

Jamie’s house is the largest you’ve ever been in, and it used to be strange that it was only just the two of you, clattering around that big home.

It’s a cool night after a warm day so you both decided to lay in his backyard under the stars.

It feels so much like something you’d do as a teenager, and you tell Jamie as much.

“Used to sneak on me mum’s roof,” he tells you. “Didn’t even do dumb shit, I’d just go to look.”

You lay there in silence for a few moments until you feel something tickle your side.

“Jamie!” you shriek.

“I didn’t do nothing!” he protests. “Must’ve been a bug.”

You don’t believe him, but you don’t push it until you feel another tickle.

“Babe!”

“Babe, it weren’t me, I swear,” he says and you really don’t believe him, especially when he tickles you again less than a minute later.

You laugh. “Fuck you, Jamie Tartt.”

He smirks. “Babe, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

“Hm, maybe I want a good time.”

Jamie’s grin widens and he sits up. “You know where the bedroom is, love.”

you know i love a London boy

“I don’t fucking get it,” Jamie says. You shrug.

“I literally don’t either,” you say. Your dad leans over to Jamie. “So basically…” he begins.

He’s halfway through his explanation when Jamie pokes you. “Babe,” he says, “can we switch seats so I can hear your dad better?” You chuckle then wiggle your way into Jamie’s seat while he gets into yours.

“Why the fuck is it called ‘football’ if it’s with their hands?” Jamie asks.

Your dad shrugs. “Not a clue, son, not a clue.”

The game progresses and one of the teams scores a touchdown.

“Hold the fuck up,” Jamie says. “Why did their score change that much?”

“I know this one!” you exclaim. “Different types of goals get different points. And there’s something called a lateral which has to do with moving backward I think?”

You dad just shakes his head with a grin and doesn’t attempt to clarify.

Your dad spends the second half explaining everything to a very focused Jamie, and he asks questions the entire car ride home. It’s funny have Jamie here in America, staying at your parents house and seeing where you grew up.

When you’re finally back home and in bed, you pull him as close as you can and whisper, “I love you very, very much. You know that, right?”

You can feel Jamie smile against your hair. “I love you too, very fucking much.”

#jamie tartt x reader #jamie tartt fanfiction #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x y/n #jamie tartt x you #jamie tartt #ted lasso

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vintagemulti · 2 years

Text

rainfall (part four)

parings: bradley “rooster” bradshaw x pilot!reader

desc: this was the mission someone wasn’t coming back from; you were sure of it. you just hoped to god it wasn’t the man you loved.

warnings: swearing, angst, alcohol, sad bradley bc that is a warning itself, two oblivious idiots it’s painful, self-loathing/mental health struggles

a/n: ellie going back to her roots and doing a filler chapter for chapter four😵‍💫 i only plan on this being like 6/7 parts btw, this won’t be a long as my other series (which u should 100% read if you’re into moonknight) but i’ll see how ur goes. disclaimer that i know nothing about the navy or planes. also reblogs to wayyyyy more than likes so…

series masterlist

masterlist

if you didn’t understand the rules of american football before, it was no exaggeration to say that you were completely lost now. what could you say? you were never into sports as a child.

all you managed to gather was this - bradley was on your team, pass to him. don’t let someone take the ball and if someone has the ball; take it from them.

both of those things, at once. god, this was brutal.

it was too hot, too muggy - even though you were only wearing shorts and a sports bra, you still felt like you needed to strip and dive into an ice cold pool. maverick was crazy for making you do this in this heat; did he want you all to get heatstroke?

“are we ready to play?” he yelled from the opposite team’s side, whistle hanging from his lips.

“ready… go!”

and the game began - the boys instantly crashing int each other, because apparently none of them were taught that it’s just a game and that no, it’s not actually that deep.

but you wouldn’t try to tell them that, not now, anyways.

“rainfall, here!” fanboy called, throwing the ball straight to you.

catching it, you froze. who did you throw it to again? oh, yeah, bradley.

“rooster,” you called, aiming at him and throwing.

pheonix laughed from beside you, her memory of your god awful football skills serving her well. really - there was a million other sports you could play, but american football really, truly, was not one.

payback came into your field of view, charging at you full force. it took you a whole second to decide that no, it was not worth trying to defend it, and you should just get out of the goddamn way.

you stood back for a moment - watching everyone around you smiling and completely immersed in the game, even maverick was playing; his duties surrounding the mission completely slipping his mind.

and it was in that exact moment that you felt completely, utterly, wholly useless.

it didn’t happen a lot - the feeling you had. sure, you’d struggled with depression in your teenage years, but it was something you’d gotten help for - you were better.

but in a job like this, where you were so used to having control over everything, the moments where you felt useless and unwanted hit harder than ever.

so you did what your therapist had told you to do all those years ago - walk away. you walked away from the group, none of them even noticing your absence.

well, that’s what you thought.

bradley watched you leave, not even taking a look back at your teammates, his face falling with every step you took. he knew about your mental health struggles, and he couldn’t help but feel guilty - had he cause this?

his actions, everything that happened last night; was this is fault?

he knew that it would take forever to explain things to you, even longer for you to forgive him. but fuck - in that moment, as you got further and further away from the group, bradley wished that he hadn’t done anything last night.

the ball was thrown to him, but he didn’t care. you were his priority; you’d always been his priority, always would be. nothing could ever change that.

“rooster!” payback called, hands up in confusion as bradley completely missed the ball.

picking it up from where it had fallen beside him, bradley gave it a half-assed toss, not even checking his aim; he didn’t care where it landed.

maverick had stopped to look at him now, already half knowing what had changed bradley’s mood so quickly. the younger boy was stood completely still, eyes fixed on where you had been only a few minutes before.

“bradley,” maverick called to him, making him turn. “just go to her.”

it was like he had been waiting for someone to tell him, just needing those four words to be set into action, letting him move.

and so bradley turned back around, setting off in your footsteps. a walk turned into a jog, his eyes scanning all over for you, the only sign being your footsteps left on the sand.

it was colder inside. the short walk from the beach to the hard deck had cooled you down, just a little. but you couldn’t help the burning feeling in your gut, travelling up through your throat and reaching your eyes.

you stared into your own eyes, watching them get redder and clouding over with tears, not even trying to stop them before they fell, only adding to the mascara streaks down your face.

god, why were you like this? why did you have to be so goddamn sensitive about everything? it wasn’t like bradley cared - he was perfectly happy with carrie, or whatever the hell her name was.

you let yourself fall against the bathroom wall, slowly losing sight of yourself in the mirror as you slid down.

it took everything you had in you not to claw at your own skin, peel the flesh off until you were nothing but a puddle of blood and bones on the floor. but then again - what would that solve?

after spending most of your teenage years going through phases like this, you knew the feeling would pass in a day or so. but in that moment, if felt like it would last forever. the guilt of fucking someone else and secretly wishing it was bradley; bradley, the man who would never love you how you loved him.

bradley, the man who - unknown to you - had just walked into the hard deck.

letting your head hit against the wall, you closed your eyes. this part was the worst - the longing, the knowing that if bradley was there he would be able to fix everything. if only he looked at you the way you looked at him.

if only he didn’t want other girls; didn’t look at their asses when they walked past and for once, just once stared at you like that.

the funny thing was - he did. he constantly stared at you. when you weren’t looking.

“did y/n come in here?” bradley asked, looking around the bar for you but only seeing one, sad looking, glass sitting on the bar.

“she’s in the bathroom,” penny smiled over a crate of beer. “i thought you’d come looking.”

luckily for you, you hadn’t heard them speaking, if you had - what would you have done anyway? would you have wipes your tears, stood up and ran out the door? or would you have stayed exactly where you were, that selfish part inside you glad that bradley had finally come to save you?

speaking of which; he approached the door, getting as close to is as possible without pressing his ear against it, listening for any sign of you behind the door. a sign, which came in the form of a small, hitched breath; something that came out as more of a gasp.

“y/n?” he almost whispered, knuckles tapping against the door.

you froze. no - it couldn’t be, could it? had he really come running after you? fuck. fuck - no, it couldn’t be.

“y/n, you in there?” bradley repeated, your suspicions being completely confirmed - it was him.

“i’ll-” you started, voice betraying you with a crack. “i’ll just be a second.”

but bradley knew you far better than that.

“let me in, sugar,” the pet name had you choking back a sob, biting into your hand to stop the noise coming out. “please.”

it took you a moment to decide whether you’d let him in or not. a full moment - but the selfish side of you won. the little voice in the back of your head that sounded a little bit like pheonix; mumbling how you’d always had a chance with bradley.

the lock clicked, and bradley slowly turned the handle, not quite knowing what to expect on the other side.

what he did see, though, almost spilt his heart down the middle.

you were stood a few steps away, eyes, red and puffy, fixed firmly on the floor, you head tilted down - in a half-assed attempt to hide the mascara trails that ran down your cheeks. the way you were standing, like an insecure little girl, arms folded over your chest, hugging yourself.

any anger you thought bradley was holding towards you completely faded away.

“oh, sugar,” he stepped forward, almost scooping you into his arms. “what? what is it, darlin’?”

you felt so completely enveloped in him, it was completely blissful. his scent; the smell of beach water mixed with a spray of his cologne, his feel, everything - he had you completely covered in him.

“i can’t-” words failed you. “not here- i can’t.”

“alright,” bradley hummed, you could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest. “alright, sweets, i’ll take you home.”

bradley’s house was exactly the same as the last time you were there. even down to the jackets hanging on the back of the front door, everything was the same. after all - it had only been, what? a six months, since you’d been here? in his house?

he led you to his couch, sitting you down so gently you half thought he expected you to shatter.

but he didn’t - not really. you’d been friends with bradley long enough for him to know exactly what to do in this situation, how to handle you at your most vulnerable.

“alright, sugar, do you wanna talk to me?” bradley asked, sitting down next to you, hand wrapping around your shoulders.

“i just-” you took a breath. you just what? how in the hell were you meant to be honest with him and keep your oldest secret? “it’s nothing, really.”

maybe saying nothing at all would do the trick.

“it’s clearly not nothing,” his tone was so soft; like his voice was laced with bubble wrap to make sure he didn’t come across the wrong way. “y/n, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t-”

“i slept with hangman.”

the words came out quicker than you could have stopped them, tumbling out of your mouth and leaving you no room to even try to catch them.

“i know.”

“what?” you looked at him. “how?”

“i saw you,” bradley swallowed like the words were bitter on his tongue. “when i was driving cassie home.”

cassie - you’d almost forgot her name. but it still stung to hear him say it; say it like she was someone to him.

“oh, right.” you couldn’t hide the bitter tone.

“why do you feel bad for that, sugar? did he- did hangman do something? did he take advantage of you? i swear to god - i’ll kill him if-”

“no,” you almost laughed, placing a hand on his chest. “no, bradley, he didn’t. i just- i feel bad because… it wasn’t him i wanted to sleep with.”

bradley furrowed his eyebrows. “what do you mean?”

now you were fucked. you’d said too much - how did you get out of this hole you’d dug for yourself? “it doesn’t matter, really, i just feel like i used him, you know?”

“who would you rather be having sex with?”

the question took you completely by surprise. you’d spoke about sex with bradley before, it wasn’t a topic you’d ever shied away from - but how in the hell did you dodge this question?

“i-” your mind went blank. “i didn’t mean it like that, i mean- i was kinda mad, you know? i don’t like fucking like that, like a stress reliever. i dunno, it makes me feel like i’m using them.”

“why were you mad?”

you couldn’t lie this time. “‘cause you treated me like shit all last night.”

bradley hung his head, nodding. “i’m sorry. y/n, i mean that. i’d had one too many to drink and i was in a bad mood, i- i shouldn’t have taken it out on you. i really am sorry.”

smiling, you relaxed slightly. communication was always important to you - and this was one friendship you refused to lose after one fight.

“bradley?” he looked back up at you. “why didn’t you tell me about cassie?”

“well,” he laughed lightly. “i didn’t think it was that important, you know? i doubt you’d really care, honestly.”

“what?” you looked at him, slightly shocked. “bradley, of course i care! i’m your best friend, i’m like- the person who would care about this stuff the most.”

he looked at you for a moment. “y/n- who do you think cassie is to me?“

“she’s-” you furrowed your eyebrows. “she’s your girlfriend, right? or something close?”

“oh my god,” bradley laughed. “oh my god.”

you stared at him, totally confused. it felt like some inside joke you weren’t in on.

“y/n,” he smirked. “she’s my cousin.”

it was hilarious. absolutely fucking laughable. god - it was divine comedy at its peak. your mouth fell into an ‘O’ shape, slowly nodding. bradley’s giggles sounded from beside you, clearly he was finding this funny.

you were completely relieved. totally, selfishly, one hundred percent relieved. so you laughed too. laughed at yourself; how you’d gotten so upset over something you had no idea about.

whether a second or five minutes passed, you weren’t sure. the sound of bradley’s laugh, so completely drowned in happiness, it was music to your ears. a drug you were so totally addicted to, you’d cut off your own leg if it meant you could hear his boyish giggles.

god, you were in love with him.

and bradley was thinking the exact same thing about you.

once you’d finally stopped laughing, quiet came over you, a familiar kind of comfortable quiet, embracing the two of you and enveloping the room with a hum that settled in both of your souls.

or maybe that was a slightly rom-com version of saying; it went quiet.

meeting bradley’s eyes in the quiet, you couldn’t help but stare into them.

his eyes, god his eyes. you loved everything about him but his god damn eyes. they were like whisky, filling up the glass of his iris until it was just about overflowing. they were like jack daniels at the end of a bad day, a little distillery in the scottish highlands turning out the best thing you’d every tasted.

and by god - you would drink whisky every day if it felt like his eyes.

the world around you seemed to stop spinning as you stared into his irises, the couch you were sitting on melting into you until it felt like you were pure mass.

it must have been a genetic impulse. to lean in, to let gravity pull you towards him. you moved your gaze from his eyes to his lips, suddenly imagining what it would feel like to have them on yours.

there couldn’t have been more than a few inches between your faces now, an electric heat in between the two of you as your breath combined, fanning onto each other’s faces.

“y/n,” bradley whispered, the words hitting your ears and snapping you from your chance.

the way he whispered your name woke you up. fuck - what on god’s earth were you thinking? you were his best friend. nothing else. don’t be stupid, y/n. he doesn’t want you.

you pulled back quicker than bradley realised, his eyes still on the spot your lips had been milliseconds before.

clearing your throat, you felt the air around you turn awkward for the first time in years.

“takeout and a movie?” you proposed, hoping to god it would put a bandaid on whatever wound you’d just opened between you two.

“of course,” bradley smiled like nothing even happened. did anything even happen just then, or did you imagine it? “i’ll order.”

nodding, you watched him stand up and walk to where his phone was. you took a hand to your lips, swearing that when you touched the flesh you felt electric shocks.

fuck - you hoped bradley would forget that ever happened. bradley on the other hand; hoped he’d never forget that happened.

“good morning aviators,” it wasn’t maverick’s voice this time. “we have some news for you.”

the admiral eyed all of you, making sure he had everyone’s attention before continuing; “your mission date has been moved forward by ten days.”

“oh, shit,” hangman mumbled from beside you.

“this means that you have under a week to complete your training-”

“but sir,” payback piped up. “none of us except rainfall have completed the route yet, and even she fainted.”

“which is exactly why you’re going to be working double as hard, starting today. i’ll now hand over to your teacher.”

and with that he was gone.

“alright,” maverick walked to where the admiral stood a few seconds prior. “same route, in teams of four planes this time. i’ll give you an order, and please-” he looked at you. “no passing out.”

a few people sniggered, leaving you rolling your eyes. you were at ten point three g’s - what the hell were you supposed to do? and you’d lost at least a cup of blood. like they would stay conscious in that situation.

“alright, team one; yale as your team leader, fritz as your wingman, omaha and harvard in dagger two, halo and coyote in dagger three.”

the six of them stood up, walking to the door and waiting to be dismissed. maverick waved them off, chatting amongst themselves as they walked down the corridor.

“do you think any of them can manage it?” hangman asked you, watching the door close behind them.

you hummed; “maybe. yale’s a good pilot.”

“better than you?” he raised an eyebrow.

scoffing, you turned to him. “better than you? than any of us? we’re all the best of the best, jake. don’t be bitter.”

“hey, come on,” he raised his hands in defence. “i was just asking. you know, giving you something to think about.”

“have you been listening to like, anything, maverick said?” you smirked. “we don’t think up there. stop trying to sabotage me.”

“oh, yeah,” you were glad he got the joke. “that’s definitely what i’m trying to do.”

laughing, you turned away from him, looking at bradley. he seemed a million miles away, staring out of the window into the big wide ocean. you wondered where his mind was, but judging from the way he stared at the water, you knew what he was thinking about already.

his dad’s anniversary was coming up.

as it turns out, yale must not have been a good enough pilot, because none of the group managed to complete the route on time. not a single plane would have made it back if this had been a real mission.

“alright, next group is all of you guys. i want rainfall as a team leader, pheonix and bob as your wingman. fanboy and payback in dagger three, rooster and hangman in dagger four.”

without having to turn around, you could picture both bradley and jake’s faces. god, it was a sight to behold. they really were like two spoiled little kids.

did it surprise you to be made team leader? no. you’d been the only person who’d completed the course, and if you hadn’t passed out everything would have went completely ideally.

praying you wouldn’t pass out again this time, you followed the rest of your team out to the planes.

you could still hear hangman and bradley behind you, muttering insults at each other like little children who never learned the meaning of teamwork. it made you smile, knowing that no matter what happened, those task would always hate each other.

yes, it was a strange thing to be smiling about, but it was the sense of stability, a hatred that had been there since they met each other all those years ago and would most likely still be there until the day they died.

not that they really hated each other. you knew that, it was all an act deep down. bradley respected hangman, hangman respected bradley. they just didn’t like to show it.

it went in a blur - from being given your safety briefing to taking off, it felt like you had blinked and you were a thousand feet in the air.

“rainfall, proceed to the coordinates on your dash. everyone else, follow her.” maverick said over the radio; he was supervising the flight.

“got it,” you mumbled back, turning to follow the directions in front of you.

it was the same place you’d gone the last time for this training, you noticed. the same big, open desert, surrounded by forest, spanning what seemed to be hundreds of miles.

“alright, everyone in place?”

checking your controls once more, you nodded to yourself; “i’m good, mav.”

“we’re good.” fanboy replied.

“all good here.” pheonix said.

“yeah, us too.” hangman agreed.

“good. your time starts… now!”

you sped up instantly, pushed back in your chair from the force. pheonix was behind you, a shocked noise coming from her when she realised just how fast you were going.

g-force pushed against you, everything twist and turn you took pressing down on your lungs, like an elephant was standing on top of you.

“thirty seconds in, im about a quarter of the way there.” you stated.

“christ, rainfall, you’re fast.” pheonix answered. “i can’t even see you.”

laughing lightly, you turned to look behind you, pheonix and bob not even appearing in the distance.

“then get faster.” you said.

“speaking of faster,” fanboy groaned. “slow down, hangman, you’re up my ass.”

“you should’ve put pheonix behind you, fan, maybe then you two would be going at the right pace.” hangman answered, cocky tone dripping through the radio.

“that’s a minute, i’m half way there. pheonix, you gotta hurry up. i need that laser on time.”

as you said it, the pair of them appeared behind you, gaining speed with every turn they took.

“happy?” pheonix asked.

“very. like christmas.” you laughed.

the rest of the route was like a second nature to you, each curve coming to you almost naturally. it was here that your nose had started bleeding before, leading to you passing out.

you prayed the pressure wasn’t too much this time; you could not afford another accident. you’d never be put on the mission if you passed out again.

“alright, pheonix, you ready?” you asked, taking a quick look behind you to see where she was.

“always, rainfall.”

pulling up, you felt the g-force push you back, just slightly. this was nothing compared to what was coming.

“alright bob, get that laser ready.” you said, eyes fixed on the target.

“shit- there’s something wrong with this laser, it won’t catch.” he replied, hint of urgency in his voice.

“are you fucking kidding me!?” you yelled back, target getting even closer. there wasn’t enough time.

“i’m sorry, i’m trying everything to-”

“forget it, i’ll drop blind!”

trying to aim without a laser was hard - harder when time was running out. fuck, this shot would have to do.

“bombs away!” you yelled, already hundreds of feet away.

“bullseye!” bob called over the radio, making you let out a relived sigh.

and then you had to pull up. pull up - against the force that pushed you back, so much that you thought you’d go falling through the entire plane and put onto the ground.

you were pulling seven g’s now. seven point five. eight. fuck, your vision was blurring at the edges. your breathing was slow, rigid, like the oxygen wasn’t really getting to you at all.

everything felt light. like you were floating. you could feel your hands, tingly and shaky and slipping off of your controls. you couldn’t form any thoughts, just the overwhelming feeling of calm.

the world was quiet, dull. the ringing in your ears was the only sound audible to you, and even then it didn’t bother you. the bliss of unconsciousness was just about to overtake you and-

“get that fucking laser ready, rooster!” fanboy yelled.

and you were awake again, hands gripping your controls and pushing you forward, levelling yourself after pulling up.

“you alright, rainfall?” maverick asked over the radio, scratchiness scraping against your ears.

“all good,” you mumbled, voice slightly weak. “still awake.”

“i’ve got a lock, i’ve got a lock!” rooster cried, clearly having fun trying to work a laser.

“alright, bombs away!” payback yelled.

both you and pheonix were level now, watching the two of them pull up from a few hundred feet away. you could hear their groans over the radio, bradley taking a few gasps follow by a strained ‘fuck’.

that should not have been as attractive to you as it was.

they were almost there now, twenty seconds more or less and they’d be fine. they just had to stay awake.

which is far easier said than done, clearly, because fanboy seemed to go quiet over the radio, payback getting louder in his calls to his wingman.

“fanboy, you alright?” maverick asked.

and then you saw it - the plane losing balance, turning nose to the ground and falling. fanboy passed out.

“fuck, he’s in g-lock!” payback yelled, voice laced with fear. “fuck, wake up, man!”

“shit,” maverick mumbled, his own plane coming into your view. “let’s hope this works again.”

maverick lined himself up with the other plane, clearly trying to get a dial tone to wake fanboy up. it worked for you, right?

“come on, give me tone, give me tone.” he mumbled.

you felt completely powerless, all you could do was watch. two pilots could die right now, and all you’d be able to do was stare as they went down.

“oh, fuck- oh shit!” fanboy finally yelled, pulling up straight away.

“christ,” you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in, leaning back in your seat.

fanboy came level with the rest of you, clearly shaken up. payback was still yelling at him, something about almost getting both of them killed.

“shit, birds!” maverick interrupted them both, making you turn around in your seat.

about twenty birds were coming straight for you, making you break right straight away. but pheonix didn’t think so fast; you saw a bird fly straight into one of her engines, instantly causing a fire.

“right engine is out!” bob yelled.

“disconnecting power and restarting,” pheonix blurted. “fuck, it didn’t go out.”

you could see them, much like fanboy and payback just minutes before, on a downward spiral - fast. pheonix was an amazing pilot, you had no doubts about that; but there was no way she can pull this back.

and you heard just as much, over the radio; her desperate attempts to keep in the air, downed out by mavericks begs for her to just eject.

she must have tried absolutely everything else, because after a particularly desperate plea from maverick, you saw both pheonix and bob eject.

you watched, mouth half open and breaths shaky. the thought you’d pushed to the back of your mind reading it’s head once more;

this was the mission someone wasn’t coming back from.

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mariamastermind · 1 month

Text

I WILL die on the hill of The Alchemy being about Travis. Are people really that blind? It’s so obvious.

If you can’t pick out the football references, have you been living under a rock? There was a time when I’d just watch the Super Bowl and I still know what a touchdown and calling out amateurs then “cutting them from the team” and blokes “warming benches” and being on a winning streak means. If you don’t see those very blatantly obvious references to football, then where have you been, especially if you’re American?

The whole song is about how he lifted her up, made her feel good about herself after getting out of a 6 year relationship and a situation ship where she was ghosted and cheated on. She felt absolutely HORRIBLE about herself, thinking she was the worst person on the planet and had to feel like she had to put on a show for everyone, and then someone let her breakdown and made her feel like Taylor Swift, the confident vulnerable girl who knows her worth but still has insecurities. He made her feel like that again. And here people are disregarding the song where she lays out on the table how so in love and thankful she is by saying “but it’s not about Travis.” The Black Dog vinyl literally has handwritten lyrics to The Alchemy and there are hearts all over it. It’s adorable.

And I’m sorry but the theory about it being about the tour, I understand it, I really do, but I can’t get behind it, and if that theory somehow traces back to us, the fans, then holy shit we did not listen to the same album because TTPD is literally her being pissed that we dive into her personal life, not to mention when she hands it to us on a silver platter (The Alchemy) people go and don’t want to admit it.

The Alchemy is about Travis. It’s supposed to be the light at the end of a tunnel that leads you out. That’s what he is for her, and that’s what she wanted it to be. That’s why it’s track 15, it’s the second to last song on the standard album because he helped her find herself (for more on that, go look at my post about the end of Clara Bow; in short: “You look like Taylor Swift/ in this light, we’re loving it” is her looking in the mirror and seeing her, not Clara Bow or Stevie Nicks)

(not to mention #15 is Patrick Mahomes’s number, Travis’s literal teammate and best friend…)

#taylor swift #swifties #the alchemy #travis kelce #ttpd lyrics #ttpd track list #ts ttpd #ttpd era #ttpd #the tortured poets #the tortured poets department

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player1064 · 3 months

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Prompt from this post: https://www.tumblr.com/xtsukinoax/673521724855402496/it-cant-be-better?source=share

DO WHAT YOU WILL if you choose <3

SO obsessed with this tweet I can't stop thinking about it like why did he say that. why did he say that. SCREAMS.

thanks for the prompt!! here's 933 words of just. fluff.

---

“I honestly don’t understand how yous’ve made it this far in life, Gary, look at the state of you.”

Gary blinks a few times, unsteady on his feet, as he takes a second to process what Jamie’s saying.

“I’m fine, Carra. ‘s been a busy couple’a weeks, is all. It’ll slow down again soon.”

“You’ve been havin’ a busy couple of weeks for the last ten year! How many times’ve you gotta be told to slow down before you actually listen?”

Another pause.

“Jamie. I’m fine. Look, I jus’ need – I just need t’go home, have some dinner, get me eight hours. I’ll see you in the mornin’, yeah?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No, I’m not lettin’ you get behind the wheel when you’re like this.”

“So, what, yer gonna drive me home? Bit of a detour, that.”

It’d be a lot of a detour, considering they’ve just finished covering a match at Anfield. Jamie’s half an hour away from comfy clothes and a pizza delivery, it’d be a shame to have to drive all the way to and from Manchester and delay it.

Only one thing for it, then.

“You’re comin’ home with me.”

After the second’s delay for Gary to process again, he scoffs. “Am I fuck.”

Somewhere, buried very far in the back of Jamie’s mind, a little voice is reminding him that Gary is a multi-millionaire and could afford the cab fare home. He ignores it and steers Gary towards his car instead.

The drive to Jamie’s house is done in near silence, the radio volume turned low because Jamie knows when he’s this tired any extra noise’ll just give Gary a headache. When they get in, he leaves the overhead lights off and turns a lamp on instead, then leaves Gary on the sofa while he wanders off to order the pizzas and to get changed.

He’s pulling on his tracksuit when he realises Gary’s still stuck in his work clothes, which just doesn’t make any sense if Jamie’s insisting he stay the night, so he digs around for some things that might fit him and carries them back downstairs, stopping to grab the duvet off his bed as he goes.

“Pizza’ll be here in ten,” he says as he enters the living room. He drops the change of clothes onto Gary’s lap. “Here, there’s a bathroom down the hall you can get dressed in.”

Gary blinks, looks at the clothes in confusion, then looks at the duvet that Jamie’s unceremoniously dropped onto the empty side of the couch.

“Y’re bein’ weird, James,” he says, but gets up and wanders off down the hall without complaint.

When he comes back, Jamie pats the sofa cushion beside him and asks “what channel d’you want TV on?”

“Ugh. Anything but football.”

Jamie scrolls through the channel guide for all of ten seconds before deciding that a) it’s only background noise, so he doesn’t actually care what they watch, and b) he’s got the perfect opportunity to be very, very annoying.

“Sex and the City it is, then. What’s it say… season four, episode twelve. You seen this one?”

Jamie’s never seen an episode of the show in his life, and, judging by the glare Gary shoots him, he hasn’t either. Well. First time for everything!

The pizza arrives, and they eat in front of the TV, Jamie ‘hmm’ing and ‘ahh’ing at all of Gary’s annoyed comments about the show.

“Who’s this now?” (“I don’t know, Gaz, it’s my first time watchin’ it too.”)

“D’you ever find American accents quite tricky to understand?” (“I think you’re probably just tired. You’re understandin’ me just fine.”) (“Been stuck tryn’ta understand your Scouse mutterin’ for last ten year, would hope I’ve got the hang of it by now.”)

“Oh! Y’didn’t tell me there’d be sex in this and all!” (“It’s literally called Sex and the City you twat.”)

The duvet remains draped menacingly over the back of the couch until Jamie comes back from putting the empty pizza boxes in the kitchen, at which point he sits back down, ever so slightly closer to Gary this time (though not close enough to spook him), and pulls it onto his lap.

Gary looks at him, spooked.

Christ, but he’s hard work sometimes. Jamie figures the best thing to do is pretend like this is perfectly normal, just two grown men sharing a duvet, so he spreads it out to cover both of them.

Gary still looks spooked, sitting there rigidly upright with wide eyes fixed unblinkingly on the TV. Jamie shuffles closer to him. Throws an arm over the back of the couch, no part of him making contact with Gary but still very much… there.

Slowly, slowly, Gary leans back.

By the next ad break, he’s asleep, his head lolled forwards, chin resting on his chest. Jamie pulls the duvet up higher around him and turns the TV volume down.

By the ad break after that, Gary’s slumped further into the couch, and if Jamie shifts just an inch or so – their sides would be pressed together. Gary doesn’t stir. Jamie lets his arm drop to his shoulders. Still nothing.

Gary’s warm, his weight solid at Jamie’s side. Jamie shuts his eyes, just for a second.

When he opens them again, it’s still dark out but the TV’s gone into standby and his watch tells him it’s still too early an hour to really be called morning.

There’s also a Manc drooling into his chest, one arm draped across his waist.

There are worse places to be, Jamie thinks, and lets himself drift back to sleep.

#probably will be a bit slow w drabbles now that weekend is over #but to anyone who's sent one I See it and I Am thinking about all of them all the time #so I Will eventually get to all of them i prommy #carraville #drabbles

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skepticalarrie · 2 years

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This ask has me seething with rage lol. It’s not about being British, it’s about class and if you are not British working class then you won’t get it.

Firstly, you’re not comparing how British Harry and Louis are by talking about their likes and dislikes, I was raised on a council estate in Cheshire very close to where Harry was raised and let me tell you, he was very very comfortable before the band. I am not saying he was rich because there’s a massive difference between £60k a year and multimillions but he would not have had to think about money growing up, he lived in a very safe area, he was incredibly comfortable and that comes with a certain amount of financial conservatism regardless of how socially liberal you are, as well as general ingrained “snobbishness” which is not me insulting him, it’s just the culture.

Chavy would’ve been an insult to Harry’s family. Louis on the other hand was raised working class, again I’m not saying he was on the brink of homelessness, but definitely living paycheck to paycheck rather than with a buffer to fall back on if anything went wrong. The area itself was less affluent, less safe, more multicultural (Cheshire is white, especially 15+ years ago). His background and priorities and comforts from his youth are different to Harry’s, he has the working class camaraderie, he likes the pub (I could write an essay on Harry’s local vs Louis local but only British people could understand it lol) and football and fastfood and whatever else you deem trashy or chavy because he did grow up as what Harry’s peers would call a “chav” and he’s allowed to reclaim that. It is nice when you’ve been called a chav too to see someone like you not immediately distance themselves from the working class when they make it big and I suppose you either feel that or you don’t.

Also, imagine being from that background and then overnight you’re a millionaire. You can lose your identity. Again I could write more about why it was essential for Louis and Zayn to have each other so as not to totally lose themselves because you can’t take a working class northern teenager to Hollywood and expect them not to be psychologically affected, so I think it’s impressive that Louis has been able to combine those identities and carry his past with him whilst also obviously enjoying the finer things too.

That was an essay and I only got like half of my thoughts across sorry Allie, but basically what I want to say is stop policing how Louis identifies with the social class he grew up in. It’s not an act, he’s not deceiving anyone, he has expensive taste too and he’s not hiding that, he’s just proud of where he came from and it’s insulting when people can’t accept that he’s a multifaceted person.

Thank you so much, anon! I appreciate this message so much. When I used the argument that “Louis is just very british” and reclaiming his roots, I thought about developing the thought but I don’t think I’m in a place to do that since I’m not british in the first place. And you just did that in a beautiful way. I don’t think people fully realise how americanized their images were back then and how much the industry still keeps forcing artists on that. So when we see someone is so openly proud of something that is not american at all, that comes across as weird and forced. It’s a shame.

In reference to this and this

#ask #louis’ image #chavy louis

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bananabubble · 4 months

Text

"Imagine" - Kevin Moon

Soooooo I had this funny idea for Kevin from TBZ where he and the reader argue over Canadian/American things! Also the writing's sO CRINGE I'M SORRY I HAVEN'T WRITTEN IN A LONG TIME😭 but if you're into this kind of content then by all means, enjoy!

Warnings: Fluff, reader is American in this(I keep (Y/N) gender neutral 99.99999999% of the time but this was just to get a good laugh bc I'm American), Kevin and (Y/N) are just a silly duo❤️

Wholesome Kev🥺

Anyways, enjoy!

-Rachel💜

"Hey Kev?" You called out to your boyfriend, who was currently immersed in whatever he was doing on his phone.

"Yeah?" He responded, looking up from his phone and focusing his attention on you.

Smirking, you decided to poke a little fun at him because you were just that much of a menace, and the next words you uttered were,

"Imagine having milk bags."

"Wha–hey!" Kevin exclaimed, greatly offended.

"That was so uncalled for! That's not even from my part of Canada!"

"Too bad, so sad," You teased, your smirk growing into a wider evil grin.

"Oh, is that how it is? Well, imagine having greasy fried food every day,” He retorted, hands on his hips like a child sassing back at their parents.

“Hey! That is not true!” You protested, hands up in the air in disbelief.

“Imagine using the metric system.”

“Imagine using the imperial system, who even understands that?” Kevin grumbled. “Americans.”

“Ugh, rude!” You scowled, arms crossed.

“And for your information, the imperial system is VERY easy to understand.”

“Uh, how are cups easier to understand than milliliters?” Kevin questioned, an eyebrow raised.

There was radio silence from you, as you didn’t know how to reply.

“Exactly,” He smirked, a smug tone in his voice.

“Well–well–imagine curling, what kind of weird sport is that?” You spluttered out, desperate for a comeback.

“Imagine football, I can’t believe you guys cheer for people who literally wrestle over a ball and kick it ONCE,” Kevin emphasized the ‘once’.

“Well imagine maple leaf!”

“Imagine stars and stripes!”

“Imagine Canada!”

“Imagine America!”

By now, you and Kevin were nose to nose, with you standing on your toes to reach Kevin’s height. After an awkward pause, both of you burst out laughing because of how ridiculous this little squabble was.

“Wow, that was…unnecessarily intense,” Kevin managed a breathy laugh, backing away from you to give you both room.

“We still love each other, right?”

“Hmm, I don’t know–do I?” You challenged, a humorous tone in your voice.

“Ouch, you’re questioning your love for me?” Kevin mock-gasped, putting his hand over his heart in a dramatic motion.

“That, (Y/N), hurt, right here.”

“Sorry, not sorry, Kev,” You walked up to him, patting his cheek lightly before placing a gentle kiss on it. His face bloomed bright pink and was contorted into a sulky pout.

“You’re mean.”

“I know.”

Happy(early) Valentine's day!!

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alexanderlightweight · 1 year

Note

could you please do a continuation on sugar baby Alec?

here we go, I hope you enjoy!

Magnus reaches over and plucks Alexander’s drink away with a frown.

“He doesn’t drink martinis.” Magnus draws and levels the bartender with a serious look, “unless I order them myself. I suggest you ignore any other drinks offered his way.”

Alexander laughs and leans over to pluck the fruity drink Magnus ordered for him and he takes a long sip.

“Thanks babe.” Alexander says sweetly, like the only reason his boy is sipping daiquiris in the first place is because of Magnus.

Magnus eyes his gorgeous shadowhunter with vague amusement, because his boy isn’t paying attention to a single thing beyond Magnus.

In fact, Magnus doubts he even realizes he was ordered a drink from someone across the bar. However, as cute as Alexander’s grimace of distaste is, that doesn’t mean Magnus wants their night off to a bad start. And it would have been a bad start if Alexander got gin first thing, which means Magnus is going to need to keep an eye on his boy's glass. Alexander gets incredibly pouty when he gets alcohol he doesn't like.

“Something wrong?” Alexander asks and Magnus smiles and cups Alexander's face.

“Nothing you need to worry about, darling.” He assures because Alexander isn’t interested in mundane things or people enough to care, so it's not a lie.

Alexander takes his words as truth and his attention goes back to the large screen playing sports.

“And they just… hit things until they go where they want them to?” Alexander asks and Magnus sighs, because they continually have this conversation.

“Yes, darling. Or they throw or kick them. It’s quite the process.” And by process, Magnus means that while impressive displays of mundane strength, it’s quite boring to him personally.

“Unimaginative.” Alexander mutters as he watches the American football game, “complete lack of instinctual skill. All they’re doing is battering each other around for a ball.”

“Yes, well mundanes love their crowd sanctioned violence.” Magnus tells him and he keeps an eye on the end of the bar where Alexander’s admirer still sits. “So, what do you think of sports bars?”

The man two stools down cheers and his beer sloshes onto the counter and Alexander grimaces.

“I think it’s very mundane.” Alexander is attempting to be diplomatic and from the way he’s eyeing the crowd, he knows he’s failing.

“Shall we go somewhere more your taste?” Magnus offers and Alexander nods in clear relief. Alexander’s tolerance for the mundane is based largely on what they do, and Magnus is slowly learning what he actually likes.

Which means that when they portal out of here, Magnus is going to take Alexander to somewhere without mundanes.

—

Jess is trying hard not to pay too much attention to the men next to him, but he can’t not pay attention, especially when they don’t seem to care or notice when they’re being looked at.

And everyone is looking at them.

They’re beautiful and bold and they’re both big, in an intimidating, presence kind of way.

Especially the one closest to Jess, with his coifed hair and smirk that should have seemed friendly but this close was terrifying.

A drink arrives even though Jess knows neither of them has ordered and he breathes a sigh of relief when it’s directed to the man closest to him, though he doesn’t know why. It isn’t until the second and third drink are both sent to the second man that Jess knows why.

Jess instincts are screaming at him to run, and he’s not even involved. However, the entire man’s body is bristling and he’s radiating hostility towards the other side of the bar. Jess swallows and tries to shrink into his chair, his hands sweating more than his beer bottle as he tightens his grip on it.

Jess doesn’t listen, he doesn’t want to know what’s being said but he understands exactly what’s going on here.

The man next to him is clearly dangerous, wealthy, and is spoiling his boytoy, sugar baby, whatever you want to call it. That much is clear from the way the guy is ordering only top shelf liquor and the way he’s snubbing every drink sent their way. It also means that Jess gets to feel how furious he is — as if anger can actually radiate off a person — when drinks are being sent to his boy.

It isn’t until they leave that Jess realizes while the man, he focused on what a hot, vibrant presence, like an inferno, he didn’t really notice the other man. It was as if they were a cold and hollow statue, noticeable only after you look to find it and realize it’s gone.

#lumine writes #writing wednesdays #writing wednesday #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #malec #my fanfics #my ficlets #my fics

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useless-catalanfacts · 11 months

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I’ll be honest, the more spanish I’ve been learning, the more cultural history I’ve been going into regarding the background of Catalan. I was visiting an older friend in Madrid recently (in her 60’s) and she randomly went on about the Black Legend, and all the good they brought, and I had never HEARD of that before and I was horrified. I’m Native American and I was like HELLO? You don’t have a LITTLE bit of shame? But then I remembered how they treat their OWN people here, especially with Catalonia and it’s like eugh... makes me reconsider wanting to work abroad there (even my friend being from Barcelona, I was surprised to hear that view.) I’m not saying my country is better at all, not in the least, but I’ll never understand the anger and the hate towards a language and people. How can a language be ugly and bad when a mother uses it to talk to a child? Between friends and lovers? A language full of history and culture? Passed down from generation to generation and surviving because of love and identity despite repeated attempts to stamp it out. Some things never change I guess.

I completely agree with you, every language is the language of love, what someone uses to joke with their friends, and the first words of a newborn child. Same way that every language can be used to shout insults in a fight or to speak nasty gossip. And every language is part of humanity's richness and creative potential.

Yes, it's disgusting how many people believe the Black Legend story. For readers who might not know what it is, it's the belief that the Spanish Empire wasn't that bad and the atrocities they committed were actually lies that the British Empire came up with to spread a bad image of Spain, since the UK and Spain were rival empires. It goes together with the people who claim things like "indigenous Americans were better thanks to Spain because Spain gave them a language, surnames and Christianity". It's good that you hadn't heard of it before, sadly it still comes up every so often in Spain. I'm sorry you had to hear that.

The only thing I would specify is that many Spanish people (and certainly the case for Spanish nationalists and the type to believe the Black Legend) don't consider Catalan people their own people. They are very clear that we are not and never will be able to be correctly Spanish, even if they also deny that we are Catalan and not Spanish. I've used this example before but I think it shows it well: look at football (soccer). When Piqué (Catalan player) was playing in the Spanish national team, people in the public used to shout/chant at him both "Piqué you're a Spaniard" and "Piqué go back to your country". If he was Spanish, then wouldn't that be his country as well? I also saw the same when I went on Erasmus. We had a WhatsApp group chat and one day there was a football match between Barça and some Spanish club, I don't remember which one. And when the other club scored a goal against Barça, the Spanish students were sending "VIVA ESPAÑA", "GOL DE ESPAÑA" and such things on the group chat. An Italian answered "but aren't both of the teams playing Spanish?" and one of the Spanish guys answered "well but Catalonia you know". It's the attitude, they don't want to admit Catalans can be Catalans and not Spanish, but at the same time we're always the "other".

#ask #anonymous

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paging-possum · 7 months

Text

Milwaukees your protocol

I spent so much time this week being like “ohhhh god I haven’t been working on my comic at all this week, where are the pictures” as if I haven’t been plugging away at the script nonstop. Everyday I wake up and I start writing and then I realize what I’m writing is really weak and then I start rewriting BUT the outline is fairly solid and I’m maybe ⅓ of the way through writing. This will get done and it will be interesting (affirmation) (prayer).

As previously mentioned, I don't have that much art this week because writing, but I did decide that the characters in this one are going to all get fun unique little outfits because I ADORE putting those together! It’s like designing someone’s room, but you get to see it way more often in the story! Lyssa’s room will show up though, nobody worry, you WILL get to see her space at some point. While doing that I did realize that my roommate and I dress like Lyssa and Terry respectively which is humbling on my behalf but at least I’m in control of his outfits. And speaking of my roommate, the reason I don’t have more characters drawn is because I was going to do that last night but we ended up going through all her dating apps so I could have opinions about all the people she’s talking to and it was a BLAST. It also took 3 hours. But that's what my 14 hours on a bus this week are going to be for (lying to myself) (I will fall asleep immediately).

Of course he has blue hair and pronouns. Other projects this week! I'm drawing lots of cities so I'm doing lots of city studies! They’re very fun and VERY useful for some current things I'm working on >:] I’m hoping to do more when I go home for break this week and am no longer stuck on campus, but for now I’m working off photos my sister sends me since she lives somewhere way more visually interesting than I do.

On the homework front, I made some very cool things this week! I had to make a piece using a rubber duck in ‘an atypical way’ and ended up making a comic I’m really happy with, but it also has a nonzero amount of me bitching about my old friend group being so obsessed with boys so I can’t really post it. But I can post some of it!

WHAT AM I LISTENING TO THIS WEEK:

Riverdale. Yes it’s a show, yes it’s still been such a core part of this week’s creative process that I just have to put it down. I’m finally getting to season 7 and GOD I love Riverdale everyone watch Riverdale so you can finally understand the triumphs and defeats the epic highs and lows of high school football.

Too Polite to Fight by Autoheart

Friendly Neighborhood Poltergeist by Rory Webley

Archie’s All American from the hit CW drama Riverdale

Also another blatant plug for my friend who introduced me to devlogs in the first place- she does a radio show on Wednesdays that I always listen to (it’s been running for two weeks but it’s just that good) (if friends or mutuals want to know when/where to listen you can message me and ask) Anyways, she posts the playlists on Spotify afterwards, here’s this weeks if anyone wants to hear it and future sets! a

#comic update #my art #milwaukee protocol #sorry these keep getting later every week I sit down in the morning like I should work on my devlog now but ill totally have time later #and then I fuck around until I have to go to bio class

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kenobster · 3 months

Note

can you explain the appeal of these ship polls to me?

genuinely asking bc i really don’t get why they happen so often or why people take them seriously. it feels like all they do is breed conflict.

what makes everyone feel so strongly about the winners, especially if it doesn’t actually represent the true popularity of the ship? (not that popularity matters bc if it’s fun then it’s fun and everyone is entitled to their feelings and opinions)

not mad or trying to be mean, i genuinely want to understand bc im bad with social cues and at reading people. what is it about them that you like? <3

so like this is actually super funny to me lol because everything you just described has been EXACTLY how I feel about sports (especially regarding American football fans in the United States). I've actually joked a couple times already about how (thanks to this poll) I finally understand what the big deal about the Superbowl is. In fact, over the last week, I've felt a kinship with overworked cashiers who use their fifteen-minute breaks to check the score throughout the day. Every time one of the previous polls taken an unexpected swerve, please picture me jumping up and down and hollering at my computer like I'm some middle-aged white dad yelling at some referee. 😆

My state has two college football teams, both with avid fanbases, and people get SO up-in-arms about it. Even after finding out I have no interest in sports, people have threatened to commit bodily harm against me if they ever catch me wearing merch of the wrong side's team. To be honest, I'm with you — I've always found that kind of attitude to be super aggressive and needlessly rude. Unfortunately.... 😖(insert my walk of shame lol) I have recently acquired an understanding of the psychology behind it....

In other words, I think your confusion is very similar to my confusion about sports. Sports fans, especially in my state, always seem like they would really consider it a dealbreaker if I wear the wrong merch or that they would really punch me in the face if I show support for the wrong team (which does happen to people at some sports games, but I think it's a minority of sports fans who would ever do that). Most of the time, if you get upset by jokes like that, the other person will drop the act and reassure you. But sports fans will never admit they're kidding. 🙄

Anyway, with that context, I think you first must untangle the phrase "people take [shipping polls] so seriously." The truth is that we're not taking it seriously, but, like sports fans, our humor and social cues are probably difficult to read. Especially for someone not "in on the joke," we might look like we're all upset and riled up. We might say things that sound serious and aggressive. But inwardly, we're actually all laughing about it. None of us really care about the results, we're just here to have a good time playfully arguing our sides.

You're probably still wondering why anyone would find enjoyment out of this, so I think it will help if you re-contextualize it into a framework more familiar... Why do people enjoy roller coasters when the purpose of a roller coaster is to trigger your body into a fight-flight response? Why do people watch horror movies or go into haunted houses when the purpose of them is to scare the shit out of people? Why do people enjoy watching or listening to true crime drama when the stories showcase the most barbaric and cruel forms of human nature? Why do people read AITA threads on Reddit, even though they often depict the wildest examples of abuse/toxicity/etc. in human relationships?

It's because all of those examples allow a person to experience stress/terror/anger/etc. in a way that is safe. Roller coasters don't actually kill you. Horror movies have a pause button. Scary things in haunted houses are the work of prop designers and actors. True crime media and AITA threads involve stories that are happening to other people, not you. Similarly, in shipping polls, I think people enjoy having a safe way to channel their feelings about fandom rivalries in a way that is mostly harmless.

Whatever the reason for our enjoyment, however, I think once you realize that none of us actually care about the results, everything else starts to click into place. But here's some answers to your other questions:

Why do we care about the results when they're never accurate? Because we never cared about the results in the first place, hahaha. We care about what's funny. We care about what makes for the juiciest drama. (I mean, think of how funny it was when that final bracket on the Best Star Wars Character poll resulted in victory for Sebulba instead of Obi-Wan! Lmao!) In short, accuracy is boring. Bribing, cheating, and begging in order to skew results is hilarious.

Why are we so mean and hostile to each other? Because we're not actually being mean and hostile to each other.* We're teasing each other. The same way as two best friends might tease each other (example from one friend to another that I literally saw this morning: "oh my god you are SUCH a nerd 😂"). That kind of teasing doesn't work if somebody cares about the subject matter (for example, that joke would NOT be okay if the aforementioned "nerd" had ANY negative feelings about that word). But in the right circumstances, this kind of teasing can feel REALLY good, REALLY fun, and even increase feelings of security within the friendship! In shipping polls, people are probably just exhibiting the communal version of this.**

Why do people care so much about the winners? I don't actually know the answer to this because this is my first time ever enjoying a ship poll, and we haven't gotten there yet. 😅Someone feel free to pitch in.

Why do they happen so often? Probably clout. Beyond that, in order to make a poll, someone has to genuinely be curious about the results. They can theorize, but they can't know what the outcome will be. Not only that, they have to remember that tumblr polls are all fun and games (or else, imagine how incredibly infuriating it would be to see people trolling). People who want accurate results don't use tumblr polls for a reason; they use official surveys instead. In this shipping poll, OP wrote a rule for each round that the results weren't meant to be taken seriously. So I think they enjoy it for the same reasons as we do. That kind of thrill can be addicting lol, and I can see why people would want to recreate it again and again.

In closing, it's been fun, but I don't think another poll like this will similarly compel me. This has just been a one-time thing that I was able to enjoy because of certain circumstances that overlapped with my interests and sense of humor. In truth, I get just as annoyed at the frequency of these polls, and I will likely need a lifelong cooldown after this one concludes. Frankly, if I'd remembered that the final round would be for a week instead of a day, I might have.... well, I might have made different decisions to say the least, lmao.

[*] This is not inclusive of antis. There is no reason to shit on one ship exclusively when there are 5+ other ships in the running. There is especially no reason to threaten the other side with an "electric chair with a built-in guillotine" if they win. That's not fun and games. That's just fucked up.

[**] Because it's a communal version and not a close friendship, it's definitely hard to gauge people's feelings about whether they're okay with being teased. A comment, to one person, might sound like teasing, but, to another, might come across as hurtful and mean. Only intimate friends can really tell the difference (and even they make mistakes). This is definitely unfortunate, but it's kind of a consequence of human behavior in general — not something specific to these kinds of polls imo.

#.#..#...#....#.....#answer #anon #codywan #obikin

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