#hope you have a great one despite the quarantine!
Note
dear santa,
i mean, dear kate* 🫣
can i wish a very spicy joel miller story? as if the ones you wrote weren’t spicy and perfect enough… BUT! maybe something like enemies to lovers?
i actually have no idea what i’m asking. you’re the mastermind here. anything joel related, i want it on my desk 😮💨🫶
Merry Angst-mas for this one. I swear the other prompts are very lighthearted and happy. Like, Joel ice skating, and modern AU snowstorm hero... don't give up on me 😂
Damned If I Do
Joel Miller x f!reader
Summary: You hate him, he hates you. It's as simple as that, right?
Rating: E
Word Count: 3.1k
Content: Enemies to lovers. The two main food groups: Smut and Sad. Creator has chosen to not give content warnings, read at your own risk.
“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now.
“Tryin’ not to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lovin’ me’s a curse.”
The mood was somber, even more so than usual. It was December, the frigid winter air whipping through the Boston quarantine zone, the dilapidated building you were currently holed up in doing little to keep you from its stinging bite.
“You gonna be a god damn liability again this time?” The voice made your skin crawl.
“Merry Christmas to you too,” you grumbled under your breath, it was no use arguing with him.
Tess had gone ahead to negotiate the terms of your impending deal, leaving you and Joel to wait for the upcoming weapons haul pickup that had been looming over your head for days. You’d chosen Christmas Eve in hopes that the military personnel surrounding every wall of the zone would be scarce, on holiday leave, doing something other than their damn worthless jobs for once. Not that there was shit to celebrate anyway.
“I asked you a question,” he barked in response to your muttering, his face severe when you dared a peek at it.
“I don’t know, Miller,” you sneered, “Just let them take me out this time and put us both out of our fucking misery, huh?”
“I’d never hear the end of it.”
Tess would give him an earful. Sometimes you thought the threat of Tess’ wrath was the only thing keeping you alive, this was doing enough to prove that to be true. When the woman in question returned to you and him on opposite sides of the room facing your respective walls, she sternly reminded you both that lives were on the line. Now wasn’t the time for bickering and your heads belonged in the game, not your asses. You both begrudgingly agreed.
When it came down to it, it was your turn to put a bullet between the eyes of someone that had Joel by the throat long enough to make his vision blacken at the fringe, the ice beneath his cheek brutal and sharp as he fell to the ground with a huff.
“You’re welcome,” you snapped, stepping over his gasping body without so much as a glance down, his furious snarl still audible over the winds.
It had been a setup, of course, hunters almost picking the three of you off when you got to the abandoned drop zone.
“Thought you negotiated this shit, Tess!?” Joel barked, throwing his bloodied baseball bat onto the ground with a heavy thud, “We come out here just for a quick shoot out and frostbite or you got somethin’ else up those sleeves of yours?”
“I thought it was sound!” she snapped back, guilt heavy in her voice as she accepted her error in ways Joel could never.
“Yeah, Merry fuckin’ Christmas–”
“Oh, shut the fuck up, Joel,” you interjected, exasperated, cold, and perturbed beyond a reasonable limit, “You wouldn’t have done any fucking better–”
“I would have made damn sure I wasn’t bringin’ either of you to a god damn ambush! That’s what I woulda done!”
“Well, you were a great help tonight–”
Your words were cut short by a hand clamping over your mouth, the frozen sharp tip of a knife knicking into the soft skin of your throat. The ice scattered throughout the cracked pavement made it impossible to get your footing as you were dragged backward, your heart pounding as you watched Joel’s eyes widen in panic, his revolver drawn and aimed, his gaze begging for a clear shot. Looks like he’d get his Christmas wish after all.
There was no use in fighting it, if anything having the warmth of a body pressed behind you would have you one less step from miserable as you took your last breaths. You hoped he made it quick, you weren’t in the damn mood for games or semantics. Joel wouldn’t trade a dirty sock for your life, but that look in his eyes before you were pulled from his sight had certainly been unexpected.
He and Tess had probably run off, who knew who else was coming, this man couldn’t be alone. They were smart to do so. Ammo was running low, stamina even lower, and even at their best, they couldn’t take out another squadron of hunters. You’d made it 15 years in this God-forsaken world, it was a lot more than most could boast. Somehow dying at the filthy hands of this human felt worse than getting infected, at least those monsters didn’t know any better.
Even through the thick canvas of your jacket, you felt the burn of the pavement scraping your elbows, your hiss of discomfort pulling a sneering smile.
“Don’t move,” he ordered, and you curled your lip as your eyes rolled, Joel's voice echoing in your head, ‘Don’t gimme that sass.”
Had it been an hour? Maybe two? You couldn’t tell. The darkness was unforgiving and unwavering, the cold setting into your bones as you shivered knees to your chest in an attempt to preserve your body heat. You’d be dead by morning from hypothermia alone. Gunshots rang out, screams and cries, yelps, glass shattering. What the fuck? What kind of hell zone was this? Crawling to peer around the old metal shipping container you’d been stashed in, your curious gaze was met with the sight of Joel Miller bashing at your captor’s head with a brick, blood splattered across his face, eyes alight with rage.
“Joel…” you gasped through numbed lips, you’d never been happier to see that sour face in your life, his expression softening as the man in his grasp fell to the ground in a gory heap.
“There you are,” you sighed, “Let’s go. Can you walk?”
His heavy coat he’d slipped over your shoulders swallowed you whole as you led you through the still hunter-infested maze. Ducking behind crates and in abandoned buildings, he had the exact route mapped to have you free and clear within minutes, the walls of Boston greeting you just as the feeling had returned to the tips of your toes. He was silent on the route back, his eyes flicking over his shoulder to ensure you were safely behind him periodically, the sphere emanating from your flashlight highlighting the silver hairs streaking through the black on the back of his head.
“Stop,” he instructed, tanks driving by as a new congregation of troops gathered right outside the final building that led to safety, “Shit. This might be as far as we get til dawn.”
“Great,” you scoffed.
“Let’s go up, keep eyes on ‘em.”
With enemies so close, a fire was out of the question, your chattering teeth and tensed muscles hard to ignore as you stared at the hulking form staring out the shattered window.
“Joel…” you finally sounded, his head ticking towards you the only acknowledgment you received, “Why’d you come back?”
“If anyone’s gonna kill ya, it’s gonna be me,” he teased, a puff of breath glowing in the moonlight leaking in around him, “and now we’re even.”
“We’re even…”
Of course it was about evening the score. You’d saved his life, he’d saved yours, though you were almost positive you were still deep in his debt. It wasn’t often Joel needed a helping hand. He was as formidable as he was cold, that stony expression rarely breaking. Except it had, tonight. You hadn’t forgotten.
“Joel…” you called again, his body turning now to face you pathetically shivering in the corner. You hoped he didn’t make you ask, it was already mortifying insinuating it.
“I got you,” he cooed, leaving his post and gesturing for you to lean forward as he approached, nestling in behind you, legs on either side caging you in, his arms wrapping around your middle as you nestled back against him.
Even in nothing but a worn-out flannel, he was warm, your sigh of relief drawing a muted chuckle from his chest as you melted in his hold. Bygones could be bygones, the chill you swore would be permanent dissipating with each deep breath you were now able to take. It had been years since you’d been this close to another human in a non-threatening manner, the first time someone cradled you against them, allowing you a moment of solace and safety. You’d never expected to find that safety here, in these arms.
“You can sleep,” he permitted, your body immediately accepting the offer and drifting off, your head lolling beneath his chin as his thick beard caught on your hair.
Gray light filled the dingy room as your eyes fluttered open. You were sweating now, your neck straining beneath a heavy weight settled on your head, heavy breaths echoing in your ear. Joel. He was asleep behind you, his cheek resting on you from where you’d spent your night pressed into him, his arms still tightly wrapped around you even passed out cold. At the first twitch of your head, he was rousing, grunting as he became alert once again.
Shifting enough to peer up at him, you watched his hazel eyes wake in the eerie glow of dawn before they locked with yours, the stone chipped away just enough to reveal a glimmer of vulnerability.
“Why you lookin’ at me like that?” he asked softly, keeping the proximity you’d woken in instead of pulling away like you’d expected him to.
All you could muster was a shrug, his plush lips too close for you to concentrate.
“I can’t do this…” he whimpered, his tone stabbing you right in the chest, “Stop making me give a shit about you.”
“You give a shit about me, Miller?” you asked, trying to taunt but only sounding as desperate as he did. Despite his words over the months you’d known him, his actions had certainly always told a different story, one he was trying to keep from pouring free right now.
“Tryin’ not to.”
“Why’s that?”
“Lovin’ me’s a curse.”
That didn’t matter. You’d danced with the devil already, what was one more tango? His hair was softer than you thought it would be when your fingers weaved into the strands on the back of his head, pulling his lips to yours in a daring risk of affection. You weren’t sure what shocked you more, your bravery or the fact that he greedily accepted your kiss, one large palm splaying across your stomach that was currently churning with something you hadn’t felt in over a decade.
It was all teeth and pressure, tongues wrestling as you tugged him closer by the hold on his hair, his body turning to face yours and press you down onto the cold wood of the floor, one hand cupping the back of your head to save it from the splintering surface. Your hands started on his belt first, your mouths still devouring the other as months of pent-up tension and hidden desires spilled over, your lungs selfishly inhaling his carnal groan as you gripped his cock as it sprang free and dragged your fist along his impressive length. Control was forgotten as you leaned up and captured his bottom lip again, his mind unable to focus on both your mouth and your hand as you continued to tug, his reciprocating kiss always slightly too late as his hips began to rock into your hold.
“Turn,” he commanded, his voice giving no room for objection, “S’too cold for any other way.”
As much as you wanted to argue, he was right. You obeyed, presenting yourself to him on all fours before your jeans were pulled just past the swell of your ass, his hands squeezing at your searing globes voraciously. You wished you could see his face. Slick fingers swiped over your pulsing hole, swirling spit around to ease his plunge into your waiting depths. You were quivering with anticipation, a stark contrast from last night as every inch of you burned now even in the subzero December temperatures.
Even if you wanted to stop it, you wouldn’t have been able to contain the lewd cry that erupted as you stretched around him. The feeling of his shaft slowly slipping inside of you made you realize just how soaked you were, his path unhindered on its way into the deepest parts of your body. You knew he could feel it, too, his hands shaking where they held you in place around your waist, breaths audibly ragged as he bottomed out.
“Shush now, darlin’,” he soothed, once again stroking over the plushness of your hips, “I can’t kill a man in this state.”
If that was intended to calm you down, he’d failed. Your cunt clenched around him so tightly he chuckled gruffly, pulling out and snapping his hips back against your ass just hard enough to have you jerking forward and keening, your teeth sinking into the sleeve of his jacket still loosely hanging on your much smaller frame. It didn’t take long for his pace to regulate, hard and fast just as you expected him to be, your arousal leaking down your inner thighs as he pinpointed the velvety patch decorating your inner wall, his precision just as accurate as he was with a rifle.
The limitations were agonizing. You wanted more. You wanted to marvel at the way his lips were parted and the hazel of his eyes swallowed by blackened lust, grip his chest and his neck, swallow his muted whines, and whisper how fucking good he felt into the soft, scarred skin of his neck. Pressure was building immeasurably quick, his rough fingers now rubbing circles over your clit leaving you nothing but a boneless heap in his hands. He was holding you upright now, your body limp for him to use as he saw fit, but the only thing he chased was your release.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he urged, “just let it go for me.”
Who were you to deny him anything? You clamped down around him as the elastic band in your belly finally snapped, shockwaves electrifying every nerve from the tips of your toes to the top of your skull, your eyes rolling back in your head as you chanted his name like a prayer. He followed not long after, pulling out with a roar and emptying onto an old rag he’d grabbed from the floor, his chest heaving as he moaned in relief. You wanted to scramble over to him, kiss his cheek, temple, eye, forehead, anything you could reach as he finished in the absence of your warmth, but you were too spent, too delirious, too thoroughly fucked to move quickly enough.
“Joel…” you whimpered, searching for him in the still-dim space, your hand reaching up and waiting for his fingers to intertwine with, “Joel…”
“I’m right here,” he answered as he gave you what you were searching for, his lips pressing to the back of your palm as he pulled you back into his chest, “We need to go. Tess’ll be worried.”
When you returned, you didn’t need to tell Tess what had transpired, she could tell. But even with her deduced knowledge, she kept her lips sealed. Maybe she knew Joel would tuck and run the moment he was caught, or that he’d recognize what a liability this was in a world such as this. A liability he’d come to terms with faster than he would have liked.
Two months later as February began to slide into March, a hoard of infected was an unexpected addition to your supply run. It was just you and him, it was meant to be simple, and it was, or so he thought.
“Let’s go,” he panted, “More’ll come. We can go another day without.”
“Joel…” you mewled, tears welling in your eyes as he continued to scout the area, “Joel!”
“What? Sweetheart, we gotta go.”
“You gotta go.”
“What the hell are you talk–”
Part of you wished you’d never told him. That you’d run off into the woods and let the last image you had of him be with his revolver in one hand and a machete in the other, doing what he did best with his brute strength and unmatched finesse. Because now, now you’d die with the snapshot of his horror-stricken face staring down at your outstretched palm, frozen, in denial, and forlorn.
“The hell is that?” he asked as if you’d have another explanation.
“You know what it is,” you replied, swallowing your own sorrow, he needed you to be strong now.
“No. No. No, that’s…that’s somethin’ else.”
“Stop–”
“Tell me it’s somethin’ else.”
“Joel, please!”
The way he muttered Jesus fucking Christ under his breath as he turned was the final swing on your shattering resolve, a hand dragging down his face as the other dropped to his hip, his blade plummeting to the pavement with a shrill clang as he let it fall from his grip. You stood still as a statue, watching him come to terms with those teeth marks pierced into the hand that had cupped his jaw so tenderly this morning as he’d kissed you awake.
“I warned you,” he finally said, turning to reveal his soaked cheeks and reddening eyes, “I told you I was a curse.”
“That really what you want to talk about right now?” you pressed, your chest burning as you fought the sobs clawing to get free.
“What do you want me to do?”
Your final wish. It wasn’t hard to decipher what he meant, one of you had to do it.
“I can do it,” you assured, puffing your chest out in a masquerade of bravery and strength, he could see right through it, his brow furrowing as he shook his head.
“No you can’t,” he resigned after clearing his throat and repressing the rage and grief already surging through him, pulling his pistol from the back of his waistband, “Lay down, I can’t watch you fall.”
“Joel, I can–”
“Just…do it.”
The grass was cool against your cheek, its soft caresses weren’t the worst things to feel with your final breaths. Your tears decorated the blades like the dew drops not due for another few months, your heart thudding between your chest and the ground, Joel’s footsteps somehow in tune with every slam of it against your sternum.
Where you expected the muzzle of a pistol, you felt his large palm stroking gently over the back of your head, his lips pressing to your hair one last time and lingering as the wound on your hand pulsed like a warning beacon. You knew you still had time, but the urgency had begun to eat you alive with every dragging second.
“Get on with it, Miller,” you pushed, refusing to give him your eyes, he’d hesitate. You knew that. “Waiting won’t make it any easier.”
“I’m sorry,” he breathed, he was crying again, “I’m sorry…” and that was the last thing you heard before the click of a trigger.
Joel Miller Masterlist
#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x reader#joel miller x you#joel miller smut#joel miller#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller fic#the last of us fanfiction#the last of us#tlou fanfiction#tlou
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The Internet Tifosi
an informal reflection of online fan spaces by me, a recent member of the tifosi.
I love being part of the tifosi. I love the colour red. I love seeing the passion of the tifosi at races. I love Charles. I love Carlos. I love watching races and highlights from old team lineups I love the greats like Schumacher and Lauda and Prost I love Ferrari.
My path in f1 didnt start with Ferrari, it started with McLaren- my dad is a huge McLaren fan, he introduced me to Lando (and Carlos but primarily Lando) in lockdown and sure it didnt click with me right away; I watched some races with him, he showed me the highlights from the races I didnt watch with him (including several videos of Grosjean's infamous crash) and despite the fact that I wasn't heavily invested it gave us something to bond over. That September when I left home for university it gave us a reason to call each other. When I developed a genuine interest (after I decided I wasn't coming back home after I graduate university) my dad wasn't bothered by the fact that I had shown up at Christmas with a Ferrari hat on, in fact he took it off my head and tried it on himself; "do I look good as a Sainz fan?". From my dad introducing me to Lando, Carlos was the natural next step in immersing myself into the fan community. From Carlos, we found Charles and the Tifosi. I don't have many (or any) friends in real life with the same level of interest in Formula 1 that I have developed, naturally I found myself creating this blog hoping to find a community within online spaces that wasn't available to me in the digital world.
My experience within the tifosi has been... unique, to say the least. I have been engaged in online fan spaces since I was around 14- I made my Tumblr account in 2016 to talk about supernatural, before moving on to buzzed unsolved, and marvel and so on as my interests developed and changed. Within each of these communities I have found a group of people that I felt comfortable around enough to call them genuine friends. some of whom I still keep in contact with despite the fact that our interests have changed. that hasn't quite happened to the same extent with the internet's Tifosi; and there is a multitude of reasons why.
The 'Versus' Predicament
To be rather blunt for a moment- I have never been part of a community that has been filled with so much vitriol for other members, and I was part of the Marvel fandom when Civil War was released (team cap). In fact, it seem that the tifosi are constantly engaged in a Civil War of their own- devoted fans of Charles as the self-labelled Lecfosi and Team55 practically always appear to be at odds with each other. And publicly so.
It is natural for people to have a favourite driver- we've just discussed how ive come to find myself as a devotee to Team55. But as with other areas, fan spaces have seen negative impact in communication due to internet dependancy in recent years.
From my perspective, the issue appears to be a mixture of cancel culture and virtue signalling. Now cancel culture is in itself a manifestation of virtue signalling in which creators or whomever else face mass criticism and attempted deplatforming as the internet becomes aware of potentially problematic past or present behaviour; however given its internet context and usage I've elected to view it as a separate entity.
Internet fan spaces have regressed to a state of defensiveness- in order to promote and validate your approval of one subject you must justify why in comparison to another. This is where the effects of cancel culture come into play. Cancel culture reached its peak performativity during quarantine as the internet and social media became the primary method of protesting and spreading awareness of activism whilst maintaining social distancing and quarantining requirements. As morality became monitored and policed by a younger and younger average user base, it is natural that there was a bastardisation of the phenomenon resultant in the mass cancelling and calling out of any person who spoke or acted in a manner that wasn't deemed correct; not necessarily related to politics or activism at this point, I myself received an influx of mass hatred and cancellations to the point where I was borderline shunned by an entire gaming community for making a joke about everyone hating one of the event mini games ('whats everyones favourite game and why is it not buildmart').
This same mindset is so visibly present within the Tifosi today- both extremes find themselves comparing one driver to the other in order to justify their favour. For example, tensions have been high with Lecfosi and Team55 almost in a panicked state looking to justify why they chose to support their favourite driver with 'Carlos is gifted every achievement Charles would have beaten him if he wasn't held back ' and 'Ferrari fired the wrong driver' filling the comments of Ferrari's Instagram and Twitter posts. This has prompted fans to flock to defend their preferred driver, often in ways which contribute to the animosity. Drivers face this pseudo-cancellation as a result with twitter bios seeing additions of 'Carlos fans din' 'if you like CL16 unfollow me' after every race. Criticisms of the drivers themselves increase, they are placed under heavier scrutiny as the violence between fans increases leading to a never-ending circle of driver-to-fan hatred. it is seen as almost a moral failure within fan spaces to support the wrong driver.
I, personally, have witnessed arguments between fans in comment sections on tiktok- the most memorable being a 'share your favourite driver and why' tiktok in which a Carlos fan received comments of 'Well you know Charles is actually better because x y z'. (I'd like to point out this is not an antagonisation of Charles fans, but this is what actually happened nor am I excusing Team55 from the ability to make similar comment). The notable point here is that Charles was never mentioned, yet the mere fact of someone else preferring the wrong driver in this commenter's eyes lead to them purposefully targeting another Ferrai fan to chastise them on their decision effectively boiling the interaction down to 'you're not allowed to support this driver because I don't like him'.
This is where virtue signalling comes into play. For those unaware, virtue signalling is the public expression of opinion with the intent of alignment with a moral correctness. The internet especially in fanbases weaponises that frequently through the examples of 'dni of you support x' as discussed prior. The followup to that mindset is the feeling of requirement to discuss. For example, when a driver races poorly or is subjected to penalty, fan spaces will see an influx of posts demanding fans to defend their driver (How can you support him when he drives like that), mass criticising the driver (he doesn't deserve his seat why isn't he fired), or public statement of disapproval because of the social requirement to misalign yourself with the incorrect actions of another person without genuine belief behind the statement as oftentimes excuses will be made for their preferred person in a similar situation. At times it appears that the primary interaction of some people within the Tifosi is to engage in critical commentary on their disliked drivers.
Criticism? Or extreme negativity?
With call out and cancel culture leaving the political sphere it has severely impacted the positivity of fanbases as criticism becomes a primary, almost necessary, aspect of fan culture. Of course we talk about critical consumption in which you are able to analyse and evaluate the content which we consume and become aware of its biases and flaws, however this has snowballed to become criticise everything you consume. Thus, the animosity of the fan spaces rises once more.
Of course every driver is bound to face warranted criticism- the majority of the grid are socially unaware rich white men, they are destined to say or do something worth criticising. They are bound to say bitchy things and act in ways that you don't agree with because that is just the nature of humanity, everyone does these things. But that does not mean every single one of their actions are worth dissecting under the microscope. And the prevalent attitude of analysing drivers mannerisms, behaviours emotions and heat-of-the-moment radios and comments doesn't display the analytical eye a lot of people think it does.
A lot of attitudes in the 2024 spaces that I have personally seen have centred a Carlos negativity- there have been dire criticisms of the journalistic bias towards him across the first 3 races of the year. Of course, if you don't like him then you're bound to be tired of hearing about him. But what I found interesting was the theories being circulated that he was paying his way into the media or that there was a behind-the-scenes scheme to keep media interest on him. Now, a lot of people perceived this to be a theory based on the culture surrounding Sainz's family wealth and his father's influence when in reality it was likely to be because of the increased interest around his circumstances going into the season- no seat for 2025, rumoured negotiations with several teams, surgery and first non Red Bull win of the season. to analyse this situation critically is not to say 'well there must be a secret reason and I will investigate' but to recognise that journalism is reliant on attention grabbing headlines- a man with no job and no appendix winning a race while still in the post-surgery recovery period is exactly the kind of narrative that will garner clicks. It would have been the same had it have been any other driver in that specific set of circumstances. There is a difference between critical thinking and assumptive analyses and oftentimes they can become conflated in the desire to prove a point.
This is the issue- a lot of people engage analytically with media in order to suggest a particular narrative. Every person is subject to bias, and when that bias is unchecked it can lead to a lot of analysis that are reliant on theory, speculation and assumption in order to maintain the subconscious perspective of the writer. This is why we see a lot of people use demeaning nicknames towards Charles on twitter an simultaneously view Carlos as undeserving in instagram comments- the integral points of their perspective on the driver rest on the moments which will develop their narrative view of the driver as the lesser. Critical engagement cannot rest solely on one the positive or the negative, otherwise you failing to engage critically by cherry picking a perspective in order to maintain a narrative. That is tabloid journalism, or gossip, at best.
I Am In Misery
It is also just not healthy for you as a fan to consistently engage in negative commentary and discourse. I mean that seriously this is a PSA if your fan engagement sees your negative criticism and commentary of your disliked driver outweigh the time you spend enjoying your interest then you need to take a step back and reassess how you want to participate because that is not sustainable for your mental wellbeing.
This is not to say that you must never hate, you must never criticise or say anything bad about someone we all do it- it's natural. But you have to ask yourself if you truly enjoy using another driver to uplift your favourite. Aren't his accomplishments enough to validate him alone?
Ive noticed a complete lack of will to celebrate- in my inbox right now are maybe around 15 asks all talking about how I shouldn't be happy with this weekends performance or else I dont understand F1. I argue the inverse,
I understand F1. I understand that this weekend was not the best performance Ferrari had to offer. I understand the impact of the team racing each other and Carlos' aggression during the sprint. And I have mentioned as much. However, I choose to focus on the positive aspects of the weekend. The tyre management from both drivers was impeccable to gain 2 positions each and maintain them finishing on tyres that were 40 laps old. They made an excellent recovery from the mishaps in qualifying that ultimately earned the team and themselves more points. We maintain 2nd in the constructors championship and 3rd and 4th in the drivers. There are issues that need to be discussed and resolved but ultimately this is not the worlds worst performance.
F1 is entertainment. I want to win, I want to succeed but I also want to be entertained. My mental health has seen a series uptick since I decided to directly seek entertainment. Sure, the drivers shouldn't have been racing the way they were, it had the potential to put both cars in a detrimental position, but it sure does make things more interesting!!! There's almost a sense of parasocialism within the community- a lot of people are hesitant to look for relief beyond the emotions of their favourite driver, and subsequently view every race as a failure in some aspect (just outside of the podium, on the podium but not p1, could've done better if it wasn't for xyz) and that negatively affects their experience as a fan and for other fans who don't share that perspective. It's almost like people have forgotten to enjoy the race, they're so preoccupied with looking for something to criticise.
Now this isn't to say you're not allowed to enjoy critical assessments of the success of races. But thats not what the majority of us are posting (it might be what some of you think you're posting, but you're not). I love watching video essays on races that are done properly with acknowledgement and awareness of bias. I don't love reading posts along the lines of 'why this race actually sucked' (not a real example) because it's not built from an analytical or critical perspective, just a discussion of the race and outcome through a lens of destructive pessimism.
End
This behaviour isn't specific to the Tifosi, it's an internet wide phenomenon. But I've chosen to directly comment on it here because as I said, I've never sen a community with so much hatred for itself. As of 2024, we are all on the same team right now. We have the right to hold our own opinions of the drivers and express those. We do not have the right to argue on the validity of other fans preferences, we do not have the right to directly enter fan spaces (ie the main tags) and spread destructive negativity about a driver nor do we have the right to harass blogs for whom they chose to support.
The inherent negativity is so calamitous to the community. It perpetuates the infighting, it furthers the negative narratives we have constructed of drivers, it only contributes to divide the community as both sides earn reputations of being toxic towards each other. And to an extent, yes . It is true, and that is disappointing. You have the right to choose your favourite driver. However, Charles and Carlos are both talented drivers- there is no need to drag one down to uplift the other. It is instigating behaviour and I'm sure a lot of people comment in that manner purposefully.
Be aware of your parasocial connection to a driver. if you find yourself criticising a driver for an action that you would not criticise your favourite for executing ask yourself why you view the action as negative circumstantially. If you are only able to assess races based on what could have happened, what better could have happened then ask yourself if you find this enriching; do you leave race weekends feeling good and excited for the next race or soured because things might have been better under different circumstances. Don't ignore the problems, acknowledge them and say but what are the positives as opposed to letting the failures undermine the successes.
just have a bit of fucking fun once in a while PLEASE .
as an endnote: I do recognise that the majority of insights and examples I have given in this reflection have been at the expense of team 55, again I would like to reiterate that as someone who primarily finds themself in 55 spaces I a naturally experience a greater exposure to negativity towards that driver as it usually tends to be maintagged or sent directly to myself or other 55 centric blogs. Just as the CL16 community is more likely to be exposed to and remember hatred towards Charles. In no way am I insinuating that 55 fans are incapable of or have not acted in the the same nature, to Charles' detriment. The toxicity remains prevalent on both extremes of the community.
this is a mass response to the people in my inbox thank you for your patience I didnt want to answer like 15 different asks about everything in slightly different ways
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Hi, do you have some recommendations for the "inukag as cat/dog parents" or maybe one of them as adoptive parents of a stray animal? Thank you so much! 😊😊
Hey @chit-a-to !
We love seeing our dog-boy as a cat-mom (or dog, or horse) so thank you for this ask! We hope you enjoy this list of predominantly -- but not exclusively-- modern AU's from across the ratings spectrum, so please do check individual fics for additional tags.
Dumplin' by MooMiscief (E)
She was officially settled working from home, she owned her own house and the time had come for her to get a puppy. Until a gruff volunteer gave her sass, until said volunteer gave her his number, and until she realized maybe was interested in him for more than dog tips.
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Cat Person by @arisukingdom (G)
Inuyasha is a cat person, and every cat person needs to meet his first cat at some point in life.
So here it goes a little Inu finding out what a cat is and trying to bring a cat to a dog house.
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The Seven Sins of Buyo (G) by @ruddcatha
It is Inuyasha Sins Week, September 20-26, Sloth, Wrath, Envy, Greed, Pride, Gluttony, Lust. How does Buyo, Kagome's faithful cat, represent each of the sins?
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Begin Again by @coccinellesroses (T)
There is beauty in starting over when you get to let go of what happened and who you were in the past.
Kagome has moved into a new apartment, and she looks forward to a brighter future where she leaves the baggage of a toxic relationship behind. Rooming with her best cat Buyo, Kagome starts to experience the fun of living alone. Although, she didn't count on her neighbor being a cute half-demon.
She also didn't expect to develop a crush on him either.
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How To Train Your Dog Demon by @anxietyaardvark (M)
Izayoi is tired of Inuyasha's excuses. All he does is work; despite his protests, she knows he's lonely. She decides to get him a companion to get him out of the house, and when she finds a no-nonsense dog trainer with great reviews, ulterior motives take over.
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The Cat Came Back by @fawn-eyed-girl (T)
When Kagome and Shippō adopt a stray cat from a village, Inuyasha is incensed. Cats (who aren’t Kirara, of course) just cause trouble; don’t they know that?
And then, Kagome goes home to study for an exam, and Inuyasha is left with a cat he doesn’t want, but who has suddenly decided he is the most interesting person in all of Musashi.
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Little By Little by LittleKnownArtist (E)
Post Manga. After the three year separation, Inuyasha and Kagome are finally together as a couple. There will be little bumps in the road along the way, but its all part of the learning experience. And they plan to learn everything about and every inch of the other-little by little.
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Must Love Dogs by WakingPriestess (NR)
Taking her dog to the park was a sure fire way to get a dose of serotonin. But the sight of a scary looking dog being lonely and unable to make new friends broke Kagome's heart. Thankfully she had the sweetest pup in the world who was also a little intimidating and also looking for new friends. The owner being drop dead gorgeous was just a bonus.
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Chai. by @inusunflower (E)
In which Kagome and Inuyasha fight over the custody of their shared corgi, Chai.
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Ramen by @writemydaydreams (T)
Three years is a long time to be separated from the person you love. Inuyasha had to find a way to cope with Kagome's absence and the possibility he may never see her again. Sometimes support comes from the last place you expect it.
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Quarantine (series) by @superpixie42 (E)
Starting a new relationship can be hard when you have to host all your dates via webchat because of Covid-19 quarantine regulations.
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Light Me A Lantern by @inuyashasforest (T)
Picking up the pieces after being separated for three years isn't as easy as it may seem. A quiet, burning kind of chaos sweeps through Feudal Japan, and it's going to take a lot more than a fairy tale ending to put things back together. They defeated a man who would become the Devil. Can they survive a man who would become a God?
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You Rescued Me by @keizfanfiction (E)
Maybe it was fate that he decided to take the back way home that night, but whatever the reason, Inuyasha was grateful for arriving just in the nick of time to rescue a waif of a woman who had clearly been through hell. He never would have imagined that she would end up rescuing him, too.
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Max by KittyKatz (T)
It was business as usual until Kagome's family adopts her father's canine partner. A short 3-chapter blurb about a military working dog joining ranks with the inu-gang. [T - Inuyasha's potty mouth]
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Guard Dog by @keizfanfiction (T)
Kagome moves into her very first house and decides to introduce herself to her new neighbor with the scrumptious gift of Oreos. She had no idea she'd be leaving as a new dog owner.
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Hermit's Haven by @britonell (NR)
In which one dog leads to a hermit failing to be a hermit…
--
Feel free to add your own recs in the comments or reblogs!
Check our Masterlist of previous lists to see which topics we've covered.
Send us an ask (here).
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I feel like despite being the youngest, and often one of the sillier personas on stage, Jared feels more grown-up compared to some of the others despite the tired fart and Jared is a screw-up stories.
I totally agree with this. I think Jared's friendly, silly persona makes people think that's all he is (and, like anon pointed out, the stories from when he was in his 20's that they don't stop telling don't help). But he really seems like the most mature and responsible of the bunch. Don't let his con/stage persona fool you, he is very smart and has great business sense. He has matured so much over the years and its obvious if you pay attention. The others act like perma-fratboys. Jensen constantly talks about his exploits like he thinks he's still 25. No one should brag that much about drinking that much at 45 (or about kicking in doors, or any of his other stories he tells proudly). Same with R2, etc. Jared is a mature adult with multiple jobs and businesses plus a family, a farm, etc. Jensen acts like a fratboy who thinks tellings stories about leaving dishes in the sink because its "near the dishwasher" and laughing about how he let the house become a mess when his wife was sick with covid so she had to clean up when she got off quarantine etc. is a good look. I mean, the stories he tells about how he behaves at home makes me feel bad for D.... I do NOT want or need to feel bad for that woman of all people.
I think Jared's intelligence has been underappreciated for a long time. Even when he auditioned for SPN, Kripke wasn't sure about him at first because he wanted someone who came across as more of an intellectual like David Duchovney.
Then, there's the infamous story about Jared crushing Misha at Words with Friends and Misha being annoyed that Jared, who didn't even go to college, could beat him.
While Jared may have had quite a bit of drunken fun in his younger years, he's always been smart. It's just that now, we get to see it manifest in the way he handles productions and other business interests.
As for Jensen... who knows what's going on with him. I would say mid-life crisis, but a few of the things you mentioned happened even before SPN ended so whatever insecurities he's dealing with that make him think acting like a jerk is a cool thing, I just hope he grows out of soon.
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As I often am when I'm rotating in The Bad Place, I'm drawn to old loves and nostalgia for comfort, which is why I'm currently rereading the Dragonriders of Pern series.
I've already made my peace with some of the more eyebrow-raising scenes in my childhood beloved books (Anne was a 2nd wave feminist in the 60s, what can I say), but I'm up to Moreta and, oh my god it hits so different after the pandemic. AND NOT IN A GOOD WAY.
Titular protagonist Moreta, dragonlady of Pern. Such a Pernese legend that they wrote ballads about her that would be sung for generations to come.
And only now do I somehow see that she's a fucking idiot.
Seriously! She's Fort Weyr's healer, would have become a Master Healer if she hadn't become a dragonrider first. But she touches a mysteriously dying runnerbeast without any caution or even washing her damn hands afterwards (something she later admits to herself she only did to impress her new boy toy Alessan).
THEN because she doesn't want to face the fact that she may be infected, she instead questions the judgement of the fucking Masterhealer of Pern in calling a quarantine and flits about interacting with everyone as if nothing bad could ever happen. Her whole justification for this is "dragonriders are healthy, we simply won't get sick". WHAT. I'M SORRY?! You're a HEALER?! Do you know ANYTHING?!
The Pern setting is a little dark ages in the sense that, despite this being far in humanity's future, Pern's population has effectively regressed and forgotten a lot of science (and gender equality . . .). But even so, we can't pretend the healers don't know enough to understand the basic dos and don'ts of serious illnesses.
We know this because there is one person besides the Masterhealer who takes the situation seriously. And that is Sh'gall - Fort Weyrleader. He is rightly anxious about the prospect of a pandemic, he responsibly social-distances himself from other people in the Weyr because he knows he may have been infected, and he furiously enforces the quarantine, destroying his already utter lack of popularity.
And everyone, including the narrative, take the absolute piss out of him for it. Oh, silly Sh'gall! Such a worrywort. So over the top. Talk about exaggerating the risk. What a whiny pissbaby, says Moreta internally in not so many words.
Even after his concerns prove true, nobody acknowledges it. It's just "Oh well, it's done now, Sh'gall. Deal with it," from Miss I'm-Such-A-Great-Healer-I-Spread-Pandemic-To-My-Entire-Weyr.
Lmao.
Well, Sh'gall, it is years too late but I see you now. The title of this book should actually be Sh'gall: Smartest Dragonrider of Pern.
Let's hope the rest of the book redeems Moreta because at the moment I cannot like her anymore xD
#hamster reads#i guess? xD#dragonriders of pern#i cannot stress how many times i've read these books and never noticed this
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Hinged Essay Writing Method
@catching-fire-in-the-wind asked for un/hinged essay writing methods and got the utilitarian version that should be used if you need to finish an essay Right Now but this is the fun rambly meandering anecdotal full backstory version
In terms of objective quantity of insanity I don't know anything that comes close to purposeful sleep trancing, but to be fair I also don't know anybody else nearly as insane as the guy who does them.
In terms of writing methods that are objectively similarly a bad idea and damaging to your long term health... I knew somebody who used to drink heavily to get essay's written? They are not doing this anymore, and are a year and a half sober, they’re doing very well and I’m very proud of them but yeah, would not recommend.
like, I wish it could go without saying but DO NOT TRY DRINKING AS AN ESSAY WRITING METHOD.
Nobody tells you the consequence of having your insane essay method writing story passed around tumblr is that all of the notes will exclusively be people talking about how they have done exactly that or, that they now plan to try it, which means you are responsible. I very much wanted to set up a sign begging for no please don’t do this or like. A charity collection plate for more hinged essay writing methods.
Anyway, this isn't an insane essay method, just one that makes me insane.
Many a years ago I was on a walk with my mom. This was so long ago that we were walking together by choice and not because all of her other running buddies were on the other side of a quarantine bubble.
My mom is a pretty cool and smart lady who knows me fairly well but she did not need to be any of those things to notice that I will talk like its the only use for oxygen sometimes and that despite being an opinionated person who speaks not in sentences but in novels and paragraphs, I have a strangely hard time getting anything fucking done when it comes to essays.
So she wanted me to try something new. There was this nifty little article that had come across her feed when she was up in the early morning taking time to herself and I was in bed continuing my best impression of a corpse for the next four hours. The article was about the improvement to google's speech to text technology.
My mom proposed that as someone who spoke very much and managed to write very little, I might benefit from this magical technology that would take the thing I had a surplus of and turn it into a thing that, you know, I actually wanted and was useful, like taking weeds in animal crossing and using the crafting mechanic to turn them into a variety of delightful little woven hats, which my mom would be doing a lot of when quarantine hit.
I presumably recognized the wisdom of this sick gamer strat and the love and care with which it was constructed, and told her it was a great idea and I would do it immediately the next time I wanted to write.
I then did not do that.
Mulitple years and one (1) global health crisis later I was fucking around on tumblr and saw a long post being passed around in early early early preparation for National Novel Writing month, part of which suggested using voice notes.
Huh, I thought to myself, reblogging it to save for later, I should do that.
I then also did not do that.
A month later my partner was having trouble with an assignment. My partner is, if it's even possible, an even bigger talker than me. They also are a far more adept researcher, and so had quite a bit to say, both about the cool things they had found out for the assignment and also what utter shit the extremely vague prompt was.
In addition to shitty course infrastructure, my partner is majorly dyslexic and adhd and so uh imagine the worst time you could have in school they've done that and also this assignment and course in general was tempting them to consider going back to their old way of solving this problem: drinking.
So I was having them talk to me about it, as the designated English major of the relationship, and taking notes hoping to turn it into an outline they could use when I was struck like lightning by an idea so insane it just might work.
I was like haha this is so crazy my mom has this cool little trick we should totally try it do you have a speech to text voice app on your phone.
They did.
I was like haha it's so unfortunate I just really don't understand your second source, and I've like totally forgotten it even though you just told me, could you maybe.... explain it again in its entirety into the microphone?
They explained it into the microphone
I was like wow, I think I understand now. But didn't you relate it to that other piece of evidence? How does that work, and also what was that piece of evidence
They talk about that other piece of evidence, and how the two different sources interrelate and work.
It should be known that I am acting my heart out here. I have no poker face to speak of, being an expressive person and terrified of poker, but I am hauling out my best bimbo impression and gunning it for an oscar.
Anyway I was like oh cool now what if you tried copy pasting that into your document as a rough draft and then editing it into an essay.
And at that point they looked at me and were like. Wait.
I immediately reveal my brillaint deception, because I want credit for how amazing I was, and also its best to have a very narrow timeline between action and reveal when you're benevolently manipulating your partner.
As relationship benefits go, there is only one thing comparable to the joy of repeatedly doing a bit your partner doesn't like. Oh in that vein, purple car. The only thing comparable is the joy of subtly manipulating them for their own good only getting to reveal it like a grandiose and suprisingly competent camp saturday cartoon villain. And the only that surpasses both of those is blatant manipulation that nonetheless, still works.
My partner got their essay turned in, I joked they owed my mom a fruit basket next time we were in town.
Flash forward a few months. I had an essay that was 75% of my grade. By the grace of professor, I was allowed to pick the media I did it on, as long it was on theme, so it was actually about a movie I really liked and had a lot of things to say about it and interesting ways to say them.
Or at least I did when bitching to my partner or imagining myself interviewed while on a walk or in the shower. I had yet to write a single word. It was kind of important that I finish this because, as the more astute number wizards amongst you will have divised, it is mathematically impossible for me to pass this class without it.
But I am a writer! You can tell because at this point I have nine whole fics on my AO3 my handle there is chucktaylorupset if you want to go check those out they're pretty cool i think. You do not understand I am an ARTISTE. I do not need technology, or hacks, or trickery, I do not need to do anything but sit down and write.
My partner fails to be convinced by this argument. Clearly they have no understanding of the nature of the artistic spirit.
Using their phone, I record a brief version of the arguments I had been bothering them with instead of my word document for the past month. They send me the audio file (despite the both of us having androids on their phone has a simultaneous speech to text AND voice memo program. This both does and does not surprise me, on the one hand why would that not come pre-installed on all devices, on the other hand my phone is Terrible. This is a hundred percent baiting you to give me app recommendations I still have not found a good free voice/speech to text combo app.
I spoke into the microphone for less than nine minutes. I came out with a draft of over ONE THOUSAND WORDS. Because it was a movie I didn’t even need quotations, all I had to do was edit and submit.
My partner made sure to be very gracious when they immediately snitched to my mom about how she was right. My mom was delighted, and not even a little smug it was horrible.
The moral of the story is that mom's are the worst. And even worse than that, they're right.
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@distantpagesandpapercuts / @heavensxstray / @lcftcult
{{ Wow, y’all really want trash rat alternate universes? Well, here’s some ideas. }}
{{ Roth’s redemption AU would be interesting. But Roth’s seeking redemption isn’t ‘genuine’, at least, not at first. Roth is a saboteur, sent by Lucifer to screw up his daughter’s idea. In return, Roth gets his freedom, as Lucifer ‘promised’. So, Roth becomes the wrench in the machinery. }}
{{ Strangely, Roth becomes rather conflicted with all this. Yes, freedom is his prize. He wants to make good on Lucifer’s deal, but Charlie’s optimism wins him over. He starts truly believing in her and the hotel. Obviously, walking back on a deal with Lucifer will have dire consequences. I would love to RP this out. }}
{{ Another AU involves Roth becoming an Overlord. Instead of remaining as some cab driver, Roth shoots higher. Through sweat, tears and bloodshed, he becomes an Overlord around the late 1980s. He owns transportation throughout Pride. }}
{{ He makes the trains run on time. He owns the roads and every toll booth. Despite not being as flashy as other Overlords, Roth isn’t to be trifled with. With one snap of his fingers, can cripple Pride’s transportation infrastructure. After all, he runs the trains. He runs the cabs and busses. He owns the roads. Roth is certifiably EVIL in this AU. }}
{{ Yet, another AU explores Roth’s stint with porn. Instead of doing one film, Roth does more and more. Eventually, Roth becomes a rather successful pornstar. He lives the high life, without any limits. Yet, in this AU, Roth is perhaps his most depressed and manic. Years and years of exploitation have seriously damaged him. On camera, he’s all cocky and confident. But once the cameras are gone, he’s withdrawn and somber. Yet even the slightest annoyance sets him off. He’s crying one moment. Happy the next, then pissed off and wanting to murder someone. Sex is just a chore. Roth goes about it mechanically. Soulless. }}
{{ The industry had made him numb. Nothing, nothing excites him anymore. He feels nothing for anyone or anything. He’s all used up and damaged from it. He wants to feel love again but, fears he cannot. TBH this AU might not be fun to RP out. Maybe, to explore but not that fun. It makes me depressed actually. }}
{{ Another, more lighthearted AU involves Roth being in Heaven. Having remained a faithful Catholic, Roth joins the ranks of Heaven. There, he joins Zion Cab Company and ferries angels and saints around Heaven. Roth in this is happy and cheerful. He’s nice to everyone and is just genuinely a pleasant man. But, under that smile, is boredom. }}
{{ He's bored with Heaven. Yeah, being with God is great and all, but Roth wanted to see more of Earth. He misses Humanity and his old stomping grounds. He wants to visit those old memories again. Oh, also, instead of “Hellcab” it’s “HeavenlyCab”. }}
{{ One last AU involves Roth becoming the Avatar of Entropy. You see, Roth’s chaos magic is merely the bending of reality. He’s pulling at loose threads, achieving the results he wants. Yet, all this comes with a price. Roth’s sanity and health has been slowly decaying. The magic he relies upon is poisoning him. Worse even, Roth has attracted some unwanted attention. }}
{{ Entropy is a living force. Animalistic yet wants to spread. To feed. Roth is the doorway. Through him, they hope to set upon Hell. To feast upon the damned souls, Hellborn and fallen angels. }}
{{ Roth slowly looses himself to their will. Through one last attempt to escape Hell, Roth becomes a ‘god’. He’s the Avatar of Entropy, the primordial force. On Extermination Day, Roth ascends. The Pride Ring becomes the first casualty. The laws that governed reality, the afterlife, are perverted and turned upside down. Despite massive casualties, Hell's army is able to contain The Entropy Avatar to Pride. But, their quarantine ( even with the help of Heaven ) is failing. Worse even, all those who “perished” are alive. They have all become inhabited by entropy. Their festering corpses walking the streets of Pentagram City. Twisted beyond comprehension, driven mad by Roth Kruger and his power. }}
{{ Worse still, something else is approaching. Roth is merely an emissary. A agent to prepare for the coming of his monarch. The Yellow King approaches . . . . }}
{{ So, that's how Roth becomes a cosmic horror. }}
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A Challenge but With Hope.
Margarette U. Garcia, SHS University of Perpetual Help System - Laguna.
As this story starts, I would like to acknowledge the family members of the people who did not make it through the pandemic. A lot of things have happened to all of us these past 3 years. A pandemic hit us so hard that a lot of families struggle to make it every day. I am very thankful to God that my family is not that rich, but we are comfortable. Our barangay was one of many in Carmona that has a lot of COVID-19 patients since, in our community, the houses are so close to each other that almost one wall connects two houses together.
So as this pandemic starts, the way we act, perceive, and analyze the world has unquestionably changed as a result of COVID-19. What used to be so close now appears to be so far away. It forced us into what felt like a "warp zone," where you have to train yourself to adhere to new laws. Keep your distance from anyone you encounter or converse with. Why is this person not hiding their identity? Is the person coughing in front of me sick? Do I need to spritz alcohol on the doorknob first before opening it? What is the physical separation protocol once more? a meter or two? Also, a lot of businesses went
bankrupt.
I personally observed how businesses of all sizes attempted to survive despite unfavorable labor and financial conditions and government-imposed restrictions. Our barangay has all these problems, and you may call it miraculous, but yes, our barangay and its people have found a way to survive during this crisis. And since the government's implementation of the regulations, the Philippines has struggled. The Enhanced Community Quarantine (ECQ) was
introduced after a period of appalling incompetence, during which the authorities both grossly underestimated the virus and failed to keep up with the preventive measures of neighboring countries.
In addition, it appears that the last-resort shutdown itself exacerbated a number of problems rather than effectively resolving the fundamental issue at hand: ensuring public health and safety rather than reducing the full impact that the virus had on the country. Except for frontliners, strict rules to follow the ECQ are mandated for all citizens until at least May 15.
Curfews, severe penalties for being outside, and a populace that is becoming increasingly hungry have resulted as a result of this. The COVID-19 pandemic has had an impact on all of us. However, depending on our status as individuals and as members of society, the pandemic's effects and repercussions are felt in different ways. While some people try to adjust to working online, homeschooling all of their children, and using food panda and grab to get groceries and food, others are forced to be exposed to the virus in order to keep
society running.
Our membership in society and, thus, our susceptibility to epidemics is determined by our many social identities and the social groupings to which we belong. These are challenging that the entire country and the entire world will need to cooperate on. Since many nations are affected, there is currently an international effort to resolve this problem. The gifts, on the other hand, I think are from God. First and foremost, the nation's leaders are working hard to support their nation. Other gifts include those given by the courageous frontliners — ordinary people who played crucial roles in this problem and rose to the status of heroes.
The last gifts are us — those of us who are aware of the issue and working to address it in any way we can. Because we now have confidence in our abilities, these gifts essentially guarantee a great future for us. As long as we unite and give it our all, we can solve any issue. I believe that we Filipinos should take accountability lessons from this problem. Many people took action, improved their performance, and became more responsible as a result of this situation.
I hope we can resolve this problem, but I also hope we can take something positive away from it. I hope that this pandemic will serve as a wake-up call to everyone, serving as a reminder that we are all connected as people in addition to serving as a reminder to stay safe and practice proper hygiene. We can all work together to solve problems because we are all related.
We've made it through the day at home by completing tasks. We perform household duties and arrange donations for organizations as a way for our family to spend quality time together. As we get ready for Lent, it's also a moment to reconnect with our Savior. Every time we attend mass and pray the novena, it feeds our spirit. As a result, I immerse myself in God's Word every day, because if I don't guard my heart, my love for Christ will grow stale. These are the times when I first started counting my blessings to determine what was still left.
In difficult times, counting our blessings brings us solace and fortitude. It lessens the pain we feel when we lose something or are disappointed. We might feel hopeful by remembering that there are still many things to look forward to and appreciate. The strong presence of the Holy Spirit resides inside us, so there is no need to live in fear. God did not guarantee a world without problems. He permits our struggles because they are necessary. He permits people to go hungry so they can taste His provisions and increase their faith in Him.
Filipinos learned to keep their attention on God and not the issue during those trying times, when their loyalty and faithfulness are put to the ultimate test. Because He provides us with strength, we are able to remain patient and carry out God's will in whatever we do. Never let the lack of trust in others dictate what we should do because our Lord knows our needs and will never replenish us in
the same way. Instead, His response to us will always be exactly in line with what we currently need.
We must promote virtue in our neighborhood and broaden the scope of our giving, ideally to those who are in extreme need. In addition, I'm hoping that we may all be each other's beacon of hope when we're all feeling hopeless. Only he has the power to restore and heal the soul; we are unable to do so on our own. All in all, we should all be thankful for what we have and still be thankful for what we lose. We may have lost a lot, but we made it up to now. This is my roller-coaster pandemic experience.
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Apparently I write fan fiction now
Ok so I've had a really weird couple of weeks.
One night, I had a dream about a TV show I'd seen exactly one episode of in its entirety. A show that I literally haven't seen anyone talk about in forever.
That show? Sliders (1995)
I woke up from that dream with the need to watch the show, so I did.
It's a mediocre show, really. Even at its best, it's hamfisted and full of plot holes, and the first season or two loves to idolise 1990s USA in a way that comes across as painful to my modern leftist sensibilities.
But despite that, I grew attached to the characters, and then I had to watch each one of them leave the show in increasingly infuriating ways.
By the end, I just wanted to give the characters a better ending. So that's what I'm now doing.
I'm not normally one to read or write fan fiction, so this is highly unusual for me and I have no idea if anyone will even care about this since the show is pretty obscure these days.
I just spent the past 4 days writing fan scripts of an imagined season 6 set in the present day. I've already churned out 3 scripts in that time and also made a rudimentary reader from html, css, and javascript to improve accessibility.
I ended up doing this because fanfiction.net doesn't allow scripts, and my new AO3 account is in some kind of queue until next month, so that's great.
Anyway, you can see the scripts on my website... take 'em or leave 'em. I had to get them out either way lol.
Hit the jump for descriptions of the 3 scripts I've done so far:
"Season 6 in the 2020s" Series
Conjoined Quinns, Part I
Episode 1 | 7464 Words
Over twenty years have passed since the events of Season 5. Mallory and Maggie are married with a child. But Mallory's not well - no matter how much sleep he gets, he is still always exhausted to the point of waking hallucination.
Meanwhile, in another world, a new sliding machine is being built by a familiar face.
Read Script
Conjoined Quinns, Part II
Episode 2 | 6652 Words
The gang attend a fateful concert. Mallory learns to adjust to his new arrangement. Cole really wants to scan some brains.
With old friends being reunited, it seems like things are all falling into place at once. But who could have expected who shows up next?
Read Script
Identical Quinns
Episode 3 | 6266 Words
Unexpected visitors create new hope for Quinn. Rembrandt goes out for a steak dinner with Diana. Cole gets to scan more brains.
The basement gets a visitor. Love rekindles. A ghostly apparition may hold answers to the mystery of the group's recent string of unlikely events.
Read Script
Future Scripts:
I've got several ideas for the continuation of this series. Here are some working titles which will give you a clue to the kind of story it will be:
Mandela Effect
Quarantine
Gender Police
Quinntuplets
Oops! All Quinns
Quinnpocalypse
Bear in mind that my ability to keep working on these scripts is directly related to my ability to receive dopamine from doing it, and that could change at literally any moment. Thanks ADHD!
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Hello hello! Heard you were lonely in quarantine, so I have a question for you: How do you think the giant eagles in lotr actually fly? Like, they're big enough to carry people, and the biggest bird I know of struggles to get off the ground without a sizable canyon nearby they can yeet themselves off of.
Ooh this is a great question. So the simple, obvious answer is that it’s middle earth and the rules of science don’t apply here and it’s just Manwe with his magic. But that’s also quite boring.
Instead, I’ll show you the rabbit hole that I went down thinking about it scientifically. Also, quick disclaimer that while I do own the science and middle earth book, I haven’t read it yet, so this is all my own conjecturing.
To start, let’s put perspective on how big the eagles are weight wise and how they compare to our own birds. To figure this out, I started with looking at the average ratio of eagle weight:prey in talon weight. While most eagles carry approx 1/3 of their weight, the extreme example is the harpy eagle which can carry up to 2x its own weight depending on conditions and if you’re looking at male v female harpies since the males are much smaller (from forestwildlife.org). I’m going to stick with 1/3 for this scenario, but also keep in mind that they have capability for more if the situation demands/they have ideal conditions like open space/high speed/full extended wingspan/not needing to land to pick up whatever it’s picking up.
Now turning to The Hobbit when the eagles rescue the company. Tolkien never specifies how many eagles there are nor does he specify the number of dwarves per eagle. Meaning we have a lot of wiggle room. Since we know for a fact that one eagle carried Dori and Bilbo without seeming issue, I feel that it’s reasonable to assume that each eagle could carry one dwarf feasibly or one human/elf/maiar, and up to 2 dwarves in extenuating circumstances like in the Hobbit. So if we calculate about how much a dwarf would have weighed, we can then calculate the weight of these birds.
Which then gives the tricky question of how much do dwarves weigh. Despite being shorter (~4ft), we know that the generalization of them is that they are rather stocky and strong which would preclude them to having a heavier denser weight, and therefore I am going to assume between 150 - 230 lbs give or take based on the individual. Let’s assume that one dwarf is 200 lbs (215 with gear). That means that an eagle would be about 630 lbs, one hefty bird and twice the weight of a large ostrich).
Given what you said about larger birds benefitting from a canyon to successfully launch, I’d say that the Carrocks they eagles nested at would have suited for this need. Additionally, we can assume that the fell beasts were probably very similar in weight and they are able to lift themselves from the ground (I believe), but I do think we need to bring suspension of belief back at this point.
I hope this answered your question! I quite enjoyed spending like 2 hours on this ask poking around the internet and digging into various parts of the books.
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About TTORW Min Yoongi fanfiction
Alright, this is my third attempt💀 to write this f*cking darn update post but Tumblr keeps crashing on me and my f*cking ass! 💀💀💀
Erhmm, so this is super awkward for me🤠 to write and explain myself. But my bestie called me out for my whack behavior. Anyways, so you’ve probably been wondering about what’s been going on with me or the Mafia fanfiction I’ve been writing. I’ll explain in detail what happened under the ‘keep reading’.
Let me start by saying yes, I’m the author of the mafia-au Min Yoongi fanfiction “The taste of Red Wine” aka ‘TTORW’. For those of you who may not know, she was my first ever fanfiction that I wrote. (I’m actually lowkey proud of her, ehehe.)
I believe I posted the first chapter back in the 2020 summer, I was extremely sad and unmotivated to do anything (I believe we all were due to covid and quarantine, but I also lowkey have summer sadness) so as the smart individual I am🤓 I began reading K-pop fanfictions or even watch them on Youtube at 2 or even 4 AM instead of sleeping💀 (mind you at that time I had also just received a new full-time job at a cafe lmfao I kept f*cking my sleeping schedule so hard, ahaha.🤠)
I’m sorry letter
So yeah, first of let me apologize to those who’ve been reading TTORW and been waiting patiently for part 9 or an update. I’m usually not the type to write or update anyone on social media at least about my whereabouts or hiatus, so I just usually just disappear without telling or explaining it to anyone. Sorry about that it’s a bad habit and I’m a bad person for doing so. But I owe you an explanation and I’ve finally pulled myself to get to write this long a*s post!
Where it all started
I originally posted a prologue to that story before part 1, but I deleted it. I think it was due to the many grammar errors in it or because I thought it was awful who knows. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ So yeah back then I would regularly post each new chapter at least once a week? Even though it had like 8000+ grammar errors, no f*cking spacing, improper English, and it was awfully written too💀
I thought being a “great” fanfiction writer was to post or update frequently despite how badly structured or written it was. I thought to myself, this is sumn good sh*tz🤓 at 3 AM posting without even reading through it several times before posting it.
Also, maybe the fact the “Y/N” I created in this story is a woman of color and I thought fanfiction writing is a lot of fun. And I sorta wanted to give a unique personality or at least write her differently in contrary to the typical shy and quiet Y/N. (nothing’s wrong with that type of Y/N I just wanted something else or at least I tried to write a different Y/N.)
Another thing, since I’m a multi fan I find it very fascinating to include other idols from other groups in this mafia universe, ehehe. (I hope some of you can like see some of the small easter eggs/references🌝 I’ve placed in the chapters, ehehe.)
To be honest I actually do like writing fanfictions and I’m surprisingly very passionate about it too. I like making a plot and putting much thought into the side characters and how the dynamics affect the others too. It’s not that I stopped writing or updating on TTORW because I lost interest in fanfiction writing.
Why did you stop writing/updating on TTORW?
It’s because of several reasons I’ve listened down below.
1. I’m lowkey very insecure and often doubt myself, whenever I find myself enjoying something. I always somehow end up comparing myself to other great fanfiction writers (which you obviously shouldn’t because people are at a different level of writing and some people are obviously more experienced in writing. But I end up doing it regardless) and I end up being so harsh on myself, like saying things like “no one is going to read this or like this” or “this is extremely bad” etc. (I’m trying my best to not do that but sometimes it’s just very hard. Especially when you’re always so harsh on yourself for no reason…)
2. I’ve been super busy with work, I’m actually in the process of resigning from my old job since I’ve received a new job. This b*tch (me) keeps overworking herself because I’m a Mark Lee fan, I can’t afford to be broke and I’m planning on saving money to finally and hopefully move out or travel who knows.
3. Writing block is hitting me so hard. Sometimes I get that fire moment of just getting down and listening to my K-pop playlist and BANG! I’ve successfully written paragraphs of good Mafia/fanfiction writing. You guys don’t want to know that I have countless of long Google docs files just dedicated to NCT/BTS smut writing because I’m h*rny and can’t think about anything else than abs and f*cking… You know I might post them one day but when? I can’t answer that maybe an anon will ask me about it? Or maybe one day I will get out of my comfort zone and give in to temptation then finally I can post smut. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
4. I’m somewhat of a perfectionist. Sometimes when I’ve finally released a chapter I kept going back and forth to check if there’s something wrong with it or any wording that’s terrible. (we love bad habits in this household🤠)
5. I’m a sloth, I’m so lazy🦥 sometimes that I’m not in the mood to like to write or even think about fanfiction. Sorry about that. Also, I’ve been spending too much time on Tik Tok🦥 (it’s become a bad addiction of mine at this point.)
In conclusion
Now I’ve thought about it for a while I do plan to keep continuing and writing on “The taste of Red Wine”. To me personally, fanfiction writing isn’t about gaining the most likes and reblogs, I just do it because it’s a lot of fun and I want to keep trying in order to improve my writing skills too. I had a lot of exciting things for the story line and I’ve really looked forward to writing Y/N’s character development!🤠
I’ve read tons of good K-pop fanfiction lately here on Tumblr. I want to make a master list later when I’m home because I think it would be a great idea to keep all my chapters linked in one post. Thanks for reading and I guess for being patient, part 9 is on the way I’m expecting to release it soon.
Sincerely, Limi 💞
#Yoongi Fanfic: The Taste of Red Wine#Min Yoongi#Suga#BTS#I’ll try my best to keep updating and not just ghost you guys anymore🙏🏽#It do be like that sometimes#BTS Angst#Yoongi Imagine#Bangtan Sonyeondan#I forgot to mention that I still have no clue on how to tag things correctly or organize the genres and such...#Yoongi x Y/N#Yoongi x Reader#Mafia AU#K-pop#Kpop fanfic#Kpop fanfiction#Suga x Y/N
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🐢 here! So sorry it took me so long to reply!
That's great to hear that the cast of the show is good! Hopefully it's still going well!
Aww, I'm really sorry to hear that. I know how hard it can be to be reminded of things you miss. I hope you can find some way to play live again (that sounds super fun), and find some closure <3
Thank you, friend <33
hey no worries at all! life surely does life sometimes lol
…on that note i got diagnosed with the flu so i have to “quarantine” until im fever free/feel better so like i couldnt even finish out matilda :( closing night is tomorrow :(
one of my friends who’s in the local rock/hardcore/metal scene is getting me to fill in a spot for his second band because they don’t have a bassist. despite it being temporary, i think it’ll provide good enough closure :)
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I'm not sure America is America anymore (or if it ever was…I think America was a lie we were all fed when we were young and we bought into it, and by we, I'm including the whole entire world).
"This is America, the greatest country on God's green earth." Except it wasn't, even as it slipped past the lips of all the people who believed the lies and helped to propagate them.
It wasn't for my grandparents who worked the tobacco fields, earning a living for someone else, or for anyone else who's had to eke out a living, getting by on pennies while someone else profits from the dollars your labor brings in.
It wasn't for anyone of a different skin color or with an accent. It wasn't for anyone with a disability, even if they'd received that disability in serving their country, or anyone who believed differently or worshipped differently, and it sure as hell wasn't for anyone who romanced differently.
And it still isn't. It isn't for anyone who struggles to afford each round of chemo they need for their cancer treatments, knowing that there's no country benefits to help them, so they ask over and over, afraid they'll sound like a broken record, but with no better alternative, for someone, anyone, to help with their Go Fund Me. It isn't for the people who lost their jobs in the quarantine and haven't been able to find another even though the news says that employers are desperate for employees, even though stores are closing early rather than actually bringing in people who need the job.
And most likely, it isn't for you and for me, because what they don't tell you when they stand your class up to put their hand over their heart and say the Pledge of Allegiance is that the only way to become a "successful" person in America is by walking on the backs of others, and if you're in public school, you've already been chosen to be one of the ones who have their backs broken, the ones being trod upon.
I'll end with Langston Hughes poem, Let America Be America Again, so that this ends with hope instead of discouragement.
Let America be America again.
Let it be the dream it used to be.
Let it be the pioneer on the plain
Seeking a home where he himself is free.
(America never was America to me.)
Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed—
Let it be that great strong land of love
Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme
That any man be crushed by one above.
(It never was America to me.)
O, let my land be a land where Liberty
Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath,
But opportunity is real, and life is free,
Equality is in the air we breathe.
(There’s never been equality for me,
Nor freedom in this “homeland of the free.”)
Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark?
And who are you that draws your veil across the stars?
I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart,
I am the Negro bearing slavery’s scars.
I am the red man driven from the land,
I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek—
And finding only the same old stupid plan
Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak.
I am the young man, full of strength and hope,
Tangled in that ancient endless chain
Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land!
Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need!
Of work the men! Of take the pay!
Of owning everything for one’s own greed!
I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil.
I am the worker sold to the machine.
I am the Negro, servant to you all.
I am the people, humble, hungry, mean—
Hungry yet today despite the dream.
Beaten yet today—O, Pioneers!
I am the man who never got ahead,
The poorest worker bartered through the years.
Yet I’m the one who dreamt our basic dream
In the Old World while still a serf of kings,
Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true,
That even yet its mighty daring sings
In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned
That’s made America the land it has become.
O, I’m the man who sailed those early seas
In search of what I meant to be my home—
For I’m the one who left dark Ireland’s shore,
And Poland’s plain, and England’s grassy lea,
And torn from Black Africa’s strand I came
To build a “homeland of the free.”
The free?
Who said the free? Not me?
Surely not me? The millions on relief today?
The millions shot down when we strike?
The millions who have nothing for our pay?
For all the dreams we’ve dreamed
And all the songs we’ve sung
And all the hopes we’ve held
And all the flags we’ve hung,
The millions who have nothing for our pay—
Except the dream that’s almost dead today.
O, let America be America again—
The land that never has been yet—
And yet must be—the land where every man is free.
The land that’s mine—the poor man’s, Indian’s, Negro’s, ME—
Who made America,
Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain,
Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain,
Must bring back our mighty dream again.
Sure, call me any ugly name you choose—
The steel of freedom does not stain.
From those who live like leeches on the people’s lives,
We must take back our land again,
America!
O, yes,
I say it plain,
America never was America to me,
And yet I swear this oath—
America will be!
Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death,
The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies,
We, the people, must redeem
The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers.
The mountains and the endless plain—
All, all the stretch of these great green states—
And make America again!
#America never was great#it was powerful#and it taught its citizens that wealth is power#and that the poor are weak#and worthy of contempt#and the saddest part is that we believed it#we all believed the lie we were fed#the poor fools who want to 'Make America Great Again' believe it still#never realizing they won't benefit from whatever comes#but their leader will#and he'll laugh all the way to the bank when he goes to deposit their blood sweat and tears
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your acotar secret santa here!! i hit a breakthrough on your fic and am so excited! i won't give anything away, just that it's mor/elain...there's something about them that make THINK.
how is your holiday season? do you decorate or do anything fun before christmas? i'm decorating this week and making dried orange garlands for my doorways. i love having a tree and lights up but my cats looooove to terrorize the tree so it's a lot to prepare for lol
i hope you have a lovely week, and good luck on your own fic!!! <3
Bestie, I had no idea this was in my asks, and I didn’t mean to leave you hanging 😂 Can you tell I am new here?
Lol, sorry!
You are doing a great job AND
Mor/Elain is my most favorite pairing so I literally can’t wait to read the fic you’re working on! I know that it’s a hard pairing cause they barely interact in canon, but to me it’s such a sweet combination. It’s something about the angst of rejection and surrendering yourself to what you really want… which is to be a sapphic immortal high fae.
I mean, who wouldn’t want that!
I’ve been sick for about a week, and scrambling to do some last minute assigned coursework for my job. So even though ‘Tis the season, it honestly doesn’t feel like it at my house, whoops! I haven’t managed to decorate at all, and I barely managed to clean up the bedroom after my self-inflicted quarantine. My mom invited me over to help decorate her tree, and I might just leave my own house in the state it’s in and just spend time at my parents house. I mean, I might still muster the urge to make way for a tree, I haven’t actually decided yet. Somehow it doesn’t feel like Christmas without one.
I have about 10 cats (outdoor friends) and none of them want to live inside with me, but I imagine they would make a Christmas tree and other standard decorations more of a challenge!
Despite everything I am having an OK week
It’s gonna get better, I just know it,
And thank you for reaching out
And sorry it took me a whole week to reply
And thanks!
And did I mention I’m EXCITED?
You’re the best, Santa! ❤️
Can’t wait to “meet” you!
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Zhou concerned over tricky April date for Chinese Grand Prix | 2023 F1 season
Zhou Guanyu admits he has concerns over whether next season’s Chinese Grand Prix will be able to go ahead as planned due to Covid restrictions in the country.
Formula 1 has not raced in China since 2019 due to the impact of the coronavirus pandemic. China continues to enforce a ‘zero Covid’ policy which includes strict restrictions on international movement in a bid to control the spread of the virus.
The Chinese Grand Prix at the Shanghai International Circuit is currently scheduled to return to the calendar on April 16th next year. However, Formula 1 CEO Stefano Domenicali has recently admitted it was “not certain” the race will go ahead, due to logistical challenges resulting from the Covid restrictions.
Zhou, who made history this year by becoming the first Chinese driver to race in F1, told RaceFans in an exclusive interview he is eager to compete on home ground next year but has concerns over whether the race will be able to go ahead.
“Firstly, I think I’m super-excited – if it’s happening,” Zhou said. “It’s obviously a step forward that it’s on the calendar for next year. Hopefully we can make it happen.”
However, Zhou admitted he had concerns the race in Shanghai might not be able to take place when the event was given an April date on the 2023 F1 calendar.
“There’s no doubt, I knew it was always going to be tricky, the moment I saw it was for April,” Zhou explained.
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“I was always expecting the second half of the season to have the Chinese Grand Prix. So when I saw it was April, I knew it was going to be a big rush to make sure everything is good, because with the Covid restrictions in China, you still need to quarantine – so it’s going to make things more complicated.”
“I’m super-excited – if it’s happening” – Zhou
Despite the complications caused by Covid, Zhou says he knows how hard the event promoters are working in order to ensure that the race can take place.
“I’m not too much involved in that, the communication between the circuit and F1,” he said. “But I know at least that Shanghai is really keen and really want to make the Chinese Grand Prix happen.
“Is it going to be April or later in the year? I don’t know. But I’m just hopeful that it happens.”
Zhou and Alfa Romeo team mate Valtteri Bottas head into this weekend’s final grand prix of the season in Abu Dhabi just five points ahead of Aston Martin in sixth place in the constructors’ championship. Zhou says that late-season upgrades introduced by the team in the United States Grand Prix in Austin have been crucial in their battle to hold onto sixth place.
“It was great to have the one we had in Austin, it really seems to be working,” Zhou said. “Basically Aston Martin is really catching up. They had upgrades for the two Asian races, so that put us under pressure, but the new package seems to be working and we seem to be quite strong again. So hopefully that can lead us into a good finish.”
Read RaceFans’ exclusive interview with Zhou Guanyu in full next week
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