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confessionbrain-writings · 1 year

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Jumping Crate - Henry Cavill

Summary: You are in the gym and struggle with this fear of jumping onto a wooden crate. Unfortunately your friend can’t stay to help you out but then there is this handsome hero who saves the day.

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Warnings: none really, just some fluff, maybe swearing

Word count: approx 2,4k

A/N: Hi there darlings! So I had this story written out quite fast but was struggling with the ending so it took me more time than I anticipated. I placed a poll where I asked if this should be with Henry of Syverson and I have to tell you it got so close! There were 76 votes where 53.9% was in favor of Henry so here we are. But Sy lovers don’t worry, I have so much more ideas which I have to write out so stay tuned. In the meanwhile you can check my Masterlist for my other work including both Henry and Sy.

English isn’t my mother tongue so apologies for typos or mistakes. Feedback is very welcome!

“Please wait and hold my hand! I can’t do this on my own!” You whined and waved your hands while bouncing up and down in front of the wooden crate.

Jack shook his head. “Come on, you’ve jumped onto the crate for a dozen times now.”

A deep sigh rolled over your lips as you wiped your sweaty hands over your shorts and watched how Jack picked up his bag, ready to head out the gym which he has been trying to do for fifteen minutes now. But you begged him to help you and here you were.

After he took another sip from his water he shared some final encouraging words and patted your shoulder. “You’ve got this. I’m sure you can do it yourself!”

“Well and I am pretty sure I have to gather my teeth from the floor if I try it by myself, but thank you!” You called after him sarcastically and saw how a smile appeared upon his face before the transparent glass door closed behind him.

You placed your hands on your sides. “You better not make me trip and spit out my entire teeth. I don’t have money to get it fixed.” You mumbled while rolling your shoulders back.

Taking a deep breath you bend your knees a little bit, making sure to distribute your weight while moving your arms slightly backwards, just like Jack told you. Except this time he wasn’t there to hold your hand. The nerves and adrenaline raced through your bloodstream.

Three.. two.. one.. You held your breath and started to straighten your legs, pushing your weight up and moving your arms along with it. But the fear of falling face first onto the light oak surface was too big, causing your movement to falter. A small squeal passed your lips as you quickly outstretched your arms. Catching yourself by placing your palms on top while your bare knees scraped the wood.

A soft curse escaped your lips. “Fucking bitch.” A little frustrated you wiped your forehead.

How fucking hard could it be to jump onto this fucking box? The one thing holding you back was your fear of tripping and hurting yourself. But come on! As a kid you used to jump on and off of things all the freaking time. This box wouldn’t be any different, right? You closed your eyes for a moment and licked your lips. Collecting some perseverance you opened your eyes.

Alright, again.

Taking a gulp of air you repeated your movements with a little more confidence this time. But somehow your body locked up, resulting to end up on your hands and knees again.

Exhaling irritated you bit your lip but got ready for another try.

Again.

This time the tips of your shoes scraped the top of the box but ended up on your palms again.

“Argh fuck!” You breathed and kicked the wooden box.

There had to be at least one try where you would succeed. You had to. You wouldn’t leave till you’ve jumped onto the crate at least once.

Sweat started to form on your brow. Again.

You tried for another three times and got better with every attempt. Coming so close now that you had the front of your left foot onto the wooden surface. That was an accomplishment!

Feeling more confident you decided to give it a go right-away and repeated the jump. But this time you didn’t lift your left foot high enough causing you to hit the front instead. The motion making you lose your balance. With a yelp and waving your hands to compensate your balance - but to no avail - you fell onto your ass.

The sudden tumble punched the air out of your lungs and you groaned.

“Are you alright there?” You heard a deep voice say and you waved your hand, not able to speak properly while catching your breath and staring at the floor.

An extended hand came into your sight. You eyed it for a moment, taking it in. The hand was big and without a doubt of a man. A rugged one.

With your breath returning to normal you swallowed and accepted the outstretched hand blindly. Sliding your hand into his and felt the roughness of his palm. In a swift and strong motion it had pulled you to your feet. You followed your connected hands, moving on to his exposed arms - or more like guns, like Jack would say - and continued your path of stare and it was like all the air was punched from your lungs again when you looked at the corresponding face.

Oh my freaking god. The person attached to the hand you were holding was absolutely drop-dead gorgeous and even though you usually could keep your cool around handsome man, his dazzling look caught you a bit of guard.

You cleared your throat. “I uh.. hi.”

“Hi.” The handsome stranger answered and looked down at your still intertwined hands.

“Oh!” You sheepishly said and let go of his hand. “Sorry!”

You watched how his lips curled up, giving you a warm smile. “Don’t worry about it.”

Oh goodness, this man was freaking handsome. His Adonis-like body was covered in a black top with matching shorts, hugging his well trained frame and his eyes.. bloody hell, his eyes were ocean-blue and stared straight into yours. A couple dark-brown curls which were carrying a few drops of sweat covered his forehead. With the back of his hand he wiped the curls back, the motion making his bicep bulge and you swallowed as you felt a flutter in your lower stomach.

“I saw you trying to get onto the crate, do you need a hand with that?” His question made you realize that you were shamelessly starring at him. Shit, get it together!

You looked at the crate and your eyes narrowed, as if you forgot what you were doing. “Yeah..” You started, “I am trying to get onto this stupid crate. My friend helped me earlier by holding my hand and I had no trouble getting onto it. But when I want to try it myself I somehow seem to lock up. Afraid that I will fall face first and lose my teeth.” Frustration lacing your voice as you sighed.

The stranger grinned and folded his arms. “Alright, let’s see it.” He said, waving a hand to the crate before returning to his pose.

You blinked. “You want me to jump? Or.. at least try to?”

“Yes,” he simply answered and shrugged, “how else can I help you?”

“Good point.” You mumbled and stood in front of the crate. “But I expect you to catch me if I fall again.” That statement made his lip twitch and he nodded. “I got you.”

You took a deep breath and made a move to get onto the crate, but like the other attempts you failed and if it wasn’t for the striking stranger quickly shooting forward placing his strong hands on your hips you’d be flat on your ass again.

The way his broad hands had grabbed you made your blood thrum for a whole different reason. You swallowed thickly and stepped out of his embrace.

“Thanks for catching me.”

He smiled. “My pleasure.”

Well, it was definitely my pleasure, you thought, but you quickly pressed your lips together before the words could tumble out of your mouth.

“Okay, so I think you need to bend your knees even further and really bring them to your chest when you jump up. That way you’re making sure to get your entire feet onto the crate instead of just your toes.”

You really tried your best to focus on his words and nodded like you understood him. But at the same time you were also wandering how he would look without his sport-outfit, how his skin would stretch over his thick muscles, how he would feel hovering over —

“Questions?” He asked.

Yes, please take your clothes off. “No all quite clear, let me try.” You took a deep breath, rolling your shoulders back. Okay focus. Again.

This time you did like he asked and to your surprise both of your soles were planted onto the surface, except now you were in an uncomfortable crouch which threw you off balance. With a yelp and wave of your arms you were heading for the floor, but again, he was right there to catch you.

“You see,” he said happily and helped you to your feet. “You’re getting there, let’s go again. But now make sure to swing your arms harder and try to stretch up when you hit the top. Alright?”

Gods, his deep voice was so sexy. If he would ask you to hold your breath and count to 100 you would do it. “Yes.”

Rubbing your hands together you regained your position, trying to ignore his burning gaze and his fine hands, ready to catch you again.

Taking a breath in through your nose, holding it a few second and blowing out of your mouth you went for it again. Feeling more confident but just when you jumped the fear of falling clouded your mind, causing you to halter your movement.

A laugh escaped you while the stranger straightened from his position, grinning and cocking a brow at you.

“I’m sorry, I just got scared all of the sudden. It’s so stupid!” You explained and pressed your palms into your eyes. Suddenly feeling a bit ashamed.

A shudder ran down your spine as your felt two warm hands grab your wrists, tugging at them gently to reveal your eyes so you could meet the kind bright ones.

“You know what, why don’t you hold my hand if that makes you feel more secure. Then I can also check your form and can probably tell you how to do it on your own.”

Struggling to find the right words to answer you nodded and gladly reached out for his extended hand. My goodness, you knew you weren’t the biggest or tallest but your hand almost disappeared in his.

“Ready?” You nodded again and brought your focus onto the crate in front of you as he counted down. “Three.. two.. one!” You squeezed his hand and jumped up, both of your feet landed on top of the crate and you straightened your legs. Now standing tall while holding his hand.

“Look at you!” He said and you almost were sad when he let go of your hand to give you a small applause.

You rolled your eyes at him but couldn’t hide the grin which tugged at your lips. “Urgh, it’s just how far I got with my friend, it’s pathetic.”

His brows furrowed. “Don’t say that.” Your grin faded quickly at the seriousness in his voice. “You’re more capable of than you know. Have faith in yourself, alright?”

You fluttered your lashes as you felt your cheeks warm. “You’re right, I’m sorry. Feel free to continue your work-out, I don’t want to hold you off.”

“You’re not, I volunteered remember? Your posture is good, it's just in your head. You know what, let’s put a reward to it so it will give you more motivation.” He pointed at the crate again, gesturing to get into position again.

“Alright? Like what?” You answered and bended your knees again.

To be honest you didn’t need to think twice about the reward but to answer his question with ‘you’ would probably not be appropriate and besides you didn’t want to scare him off.

“Let me treat you on a delicious smoothie from across the street, they just opened last week and they are amazing. You definitely deserve one but only if you make it onto the crate.” He challenged you and gave you this wicked look which made you tremble.

Great heavens, please let this time be the attempt where you would be able to get onto this freaking stupid piece of wood.

You eyed him for a split second and then regained your focus on the crate before you. Come on, I fucking got this. This time I can do it.

Biting your lip you furrowed your brow, slipping into focus while the ambience noise faded. Three.. two.. one..

“Oh my God!” You yelled when you realized that your soles were planted on top while standing steady on the wooden surface. “I did it!”

Relief and happiness bursted through your body like a shock wave and you looked at the stranger full with disbelieve.

“I told you!” He said enthusiastically and held up both his palms, ready to give you a high ten. With the broadest smile you slapped his palms and yelped when he interlaced his fingers with yours, tugging you from the crate. Your mind struggled to keep up with the motion as he hugged you tightly.

Holy fucking shit. Your heart pounded wildly in your chest. Your breath hitched in your throat and you tried hard not to focus on how your breasts felt against his well muscled chest, the sensation making your nipples peak.

With a beaming smile he had placed you onto your feet. “I’m proud of you —“ he said and you told him your name.

“Well I couldn’t do it without your help, so thank you —?” You paused and waited for him to tell his name.

“Henry.” He answered and ran a hand through his curls.

“Henry,” you repeated. “I guess you own me a smoothie.”

taglist (some tags don't seem to work): @i-beg-your-pardon-laufeyson @lizzystuffsthings @eldarwen333 @ysmmsy @astheskycries @daybreak96 @death-unbecomes-you @geralts-yenn @posiemax @mattmurdocksgirlfriend @greensleeves888 @justduckingaround12 @cricket66 @kebabgirl67 @identity2212 @leigh70 @kingliam2019 @theworldwonder @just-me-viktoria @foxyjwls007 @gummydummy19 @enchantedbytomandhenry @sofiebstar @raccoon-eyed-rebel @evansabove1981 @teamfan7asy @summersong69 @lysarria @sunshine96 @bishhh2003 @midnight-stranger @eviesmith1810 @tumblnewby

#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill x you #henry cavill imagine

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phoenixwrites · 3 months

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Look I get where you are coming from and generally agree but "I'm not going to vote for someone who is actively enabling a genocide" is a completely reasonable line for people to have and being condescending and trying to shame them for having it isn't going to win anyone over

When the line is "I'm not going to vote for someone who is actively enabling a genocide" to "I'm going to throw away my vote so Trump can not just actively enable, but encourage and assist the genocide to a greater extent and pretend like that's a valid option"...

Look, I'm tired. I'm pissed. I have had it with Biden, I have had it with the lies, the bewilderment at pro-Palestine protesters, I've fucking had it. I understand the frustration.

But I am so beyond caring about people's feelings getting hurt if I'm being "condescending". There is much more at stake than me trying to temper what I'm saying.

Besides, I tried being nice in 2016 and 2020 and it did jackshit, so congrats, you all get the embittered angry progressive that I am.

We're not in a reasonable time. We haven't been for a long time.

So yeah, whatever platform I have, I'm going to do whatever I can to speak out about voting and keep Trump far away from the White House.

Vote for Biden or we get Trump. That's it.

#phoenix politics #if you have been following me for any length of time #my political posts are gonna get louder as we draw nearer to the election #you know the tag is phoenix politics #if you have a problem with these posts or they are hurting your feelings or whatever--block the tag or me #because shutting up and handing Trump the country again is not an option.

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beware-of-eels · 1 year

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Rajbow AU where Bowie and Emma go ice skating during free skate hours at the rink Raj and Wayne work part time to help cover hockey costs

except instead of being bad at it, Bowie fully knowing how to skate- instead faking a minor (graceful) fall so that the cute rink employee with the eyebrows comes over to help him up and check on him. And maybe get his number

Got carried away thinking about this in detail so if you want the longer babbly almost-a-fic version it's under the cut lmao

[disclaimer: everything ik abt ice rinks is from going to the one at the mall like. maybe three times in my life bdbsbnxnd. I live in Texas] [i've also literally never written fanfic and so am not much of a writer but this kind of possessed me when i was bored at work so if the dialogue is bad or ooc and the tense is all off.... no its not lmao]

Anyways - Emma's decided she's going to invest in hobbies that she DIDN'T share with chase, something completely separate and away from him -- chase thinks its to impress him bc of course he does. someone send this boy to detention--and drags Bowie along "so she's not alone, obviously"

good friend that he is, Bowie goes with, and especially bc Bowie DOES know how to skate - pretty well actually. he's no figure skater/hockey player/etc, but if Bowies going to do anything in public he's going to do it well. he can make his way around the rink with ease, manage a little fancy footwork when he wants to, enough to pull a minor trick out of his hat. besides, what's the point of doing something if you can't show off a little bit? never hurts to catch someone's eye, or establish yourself to your peers as someone who knows what they're doing -- and really, Bowie's counting on his reputation to ensure those prom votes.

what Bowie didn't count on was the cute hockey boy that was handing off skate rentals to blush and stammer so sweetly when he flirted with him for the hell of it. and he really didn't count on said cute hockey boy having a shift change and heading onto the rink to fill in as ice monitor pretty soon after he and Emma start skating. Even in the flourescent lighting the boy is cute, and it doesn't take a genius to see how hockey has bulked him up - and he really was so endearing when he was flustered- so Bowie figures why not try his hand at a little more fun. And really, what better way to shoot his shot than to fake needing a little extra help from a buff hockey player?

Naturally Wayne and Raj work their stations together - their manager had tried to separate them once and was QUICK to never make that mistake again - so when they've switched out with their coworkers handling skate rentals, they're immediately out on the ice together, as loud and rambunctious as they can get away with without reprimand

if Raj is a little (not-so) secretly excited to maybe see the cute boy that winked at him earlier - Yknow, bc it made him feel excited! ...whatever that meant - then that's between him, Wayne, and the hockey gods. otherwise hes just pumped to be on the ice with his best bud. They're making their rounds, keeping an eye out for anything dangerous or against the rules that they might have to intervene, and otherwise yelling hockey metaphors and mutual encouragement as loudly as they can get away with

and right when Wayne has to slip away to separate a couple of kids trying to trip eachother, Bowie decides to makes his move

He gives emma the heads up that he's gonna slow down and try something, and does his best to fall as gracefully as he can - maintaining the look of competence is still important after all - while still doing so loud enough to garner the cute hockey boy's - Rajie?- attention. He sits on the ice a second longer than he strictly necessary, and by the time he's ready to stand back up Raj is there holding out a steady hand, bushy eyebrows pulled together in concern.

"oh my god are you okay - here I'll help you up" He looks so worried for a moment that Bowie almost feels bad for lying. Almost.

"well i'm much better now" Bowie throws the boy another wink, earning him the exact flustered face Raj had responded with before. Forget subtlety if that's the reaction he was going to get by being forward, "but I do think my ankle could use a little TLC - care to help me get somewhere to sit down?

"Uh yes! Yes of course, thats. thats what I'm here for!" Raj can feel his face heating up as he stammers under the gaze of the boy in front of him "I'm Raj, uh by the way"

And isn't he just too cute "I'm Bowie, it's nice to meet you"

Raj quickly signals to Wayne the general situation, and then solidifies himself into position to help Bowie up without falling himself. after that it doesn't take too much finagling to get bowie back up to his feet and leaning heavily on raj's shoulder and the two of them start to slowly make their way back off of the rink. Bowie can't help but smile a bit- he was absolutely right about Raj being buff, and he couldn't wait to see what else he had in store.

Raj, nervous about having a cute boy so close to him suddenly, does what he does best - fall into Hockey talk - or in this case, hockey adjacent. Hockey could be a dangerous sport - he'd helped teammates with ankle sprains plenty of times! It would probably help Bowie feel better to know that Raj has this handled "We'll have to check which part of your ankle hurts once we sit you down - just to make sure it's not a fracture. You can lean on me more if you need! its uh, you don't want to put too much pressure on it until we can take a look at it. I should have some extra stuff in my bag to wrap it up if its a sprain, and then I can see if we still have ice packs in the first aid kit! Hopefully it's just a sprain, but dont worry if it's worse I'll still make sure you're okay! When me and wayne - that's my buddy - were kids, I fractured my arm pretty bad at practic-"

Bowie had seen already that Raj was a little nervous talking to him, if plenty enthusiastic. But the sweetness of his scramble to comfort Bowie for an injury that hadn't even occured - not that he had to know that - was invigorating none the less. There was a genuineness to the boy that was refreshing, and he was sure if he was actually hurt, he would be feeling calmed and comforted by his babbling. If not for the talk about first aid, then for the earnestness in Raj's telling of his own past injuries on the ice.

Raj doesn't realize he's still talking until he's helping Bowie sit down on a bench outside near the skate rental area. "oh sorry if that was too much - I'm gonna go get the first aid kit then I'll be right back!"

He walked off quickly, glad for the chance to take a breather, and keep his head from being clouded by sharp eyes and quit witted flirting. Not to mention the bold choice of Bowie to wear a crop top to go ice skating. It certainly did look nice on him

Once Raj returns, he leans down and carefully begins checking Bowies ankle for anything serious - slowly pressing on the skin and rotating the foot to gauge maneuverability. Satisfied with Bowie's assessment that the pain wasn't too bad, he got to work wrapping his foot - Raj wasn't going to let shoddy first aid exacerbate the problem.

Looking down at the hockey player in front of him, Bowie gets to work on his own interests. "Thank you for all your help - usually I consider myself a pretty good skater, but oh well. I guess one person can't be fantastic at everything all the time," he punctuated with a large sigh, wiggling his toes when Raj motions for him to.

"Oh I'm sure you're always fantastic! I've been skating since I could walk and even I still take a tumble from time to time - that doesn't mean you aren't great! I guess mine usually come from bad checks though eh? Oh because I play hockey! I don't remember if I told you that-- A-anyways, I didn't really get to see you skate before you fell but I'm sure you're incredible. I mean you seem incredible. At skating! I mean"

Raj finally cuts himself off, hoping to end the awkardness of his own rambling. All he had to do was finish wrapping up Bowie's ankle and exit the interaction with minimal blushing - he could do that! He could hear Wayne's voice hyping him up in his head - was a snow owl, he'd faced goons bent on injuring and cross checks more than even made sense for a highschool league - he could handle getting through a conversation with a cute boy. Even if said cute boy had long eyelashes and a knowing smile and a pearl necklace expertly framing his neck.

Bowie of course could not be more pleased - it seems Raj was more than just fun to fluster. He was sweet and earnest and clearly passionate about hockey - enough that Bowie found himself actually looking forward to hearing more of Raj's confusing hockey lingo, if it meant seeing that focused look in his eyes when he started getting carried away.

"Well if you really think so, maybe you'd like to see how incredible I am some other time - when you're not working, of course"

"For sure dude! That sounds like loads of fun!" Raj's agreement comes out enthusiastic, until he look down at Bowies ankle in his hands, freshly wrapped and now with an ice pack to match "But not until your ankle's healed up - skating's great but you won't be able to if you hurt your ankle worse by pushing it." The sudden intensity of his expression betraying how seriously the boy takes his sport.

Bowie stifles a laugh "It really doesn't hurt that much, but deal. Maybe you can show me some of your fancy hockey moves while we're at it" he said liltingly. and theres that blush again, hard to see on his skin but clear as day to the boy who triggered it "in the meantime though -can I get your number?"

Raj answers without even taking a beat "Oh I'm number 8! On the snow owls, I'm actually alternate capt-" he's cut off by a gentle hand on his own where it's still holding the ice pack.

"I actually meant your phone number" bowie's ecpression is nothing but kind, so Raj doesn't feel quite so clueless when he manages out a

"Right! yes, right - here let me see your phone"

the two boys quickly exchange numbers, as Bowie continues his previous thought "But I'd love to hear all about your hockey team on our date"

"Yeah! ha, that sounds good."

The two of them stay a moment just to smile at one another, before the moment is broken-

"RAJIE! Are you doin okay there bud? Do you need some help?" "Don't worry Wayners! I'll be over in a sec!"

Raj turns back to Bowie, sheepish "I uh, gotta get back to work, do you have somebody that can take you home safe?"

Bowie presses a quick peck to his cheek, "I've got a friend here with me, no need to worry about little ole me. I'll see you soon though, handsome"

And again that blush. Raj manages to stammer through a goodbye before trudging back to the ice - doing a quick lap around at full speed to release some of his energy before returning to his best friends side. He'd tell Wayne all about it later, for now he was just doing his best not to smile too hard.

Eventually Emma finds her way to Bowie sat on a bench, carefully tying his shoes back over a newly bandaged ankle.

"sooo how'd it go? you didn't really hurt your ankle did you? because you know I'd feel awful for bringing you here if you got hurt and didn't even get a cute boy's number out of it"

"No on the injury, Yes on getting his number - let's head back to your house, I'll catch you up on the ride home"

"Yes! well I'm glad one of us had a good time - after you left Chase walked by - how did he even know we were here? He's so -"

Bowie tunes out the rest of his friends rant, he'd heard this before, and he was sure she'd forgive him for not listening if he told her he was thinking about his upcoming date with Raj. The boy really was too good, and Bowie hadn't even really had to work very hard to find that out. He found himself throwing in an occasional remark to keep Emma going as they walked, thinking about the intensity with which Raj clearly loved sports, about the simple sincerity in the way that he talked. This really could be the start of something special

Yep, the trip to the ice rink had gone better than imagined. He just needed to admit to Raj that he had fallen on purpose and all would be well.

After they were on their date, of course.

#hhhh idk if this is any good but i had to get it out of my system #td spoilers #i guess?#td reboot #td 2023 #total drama #rajbow #td raj #td bowie #total drama island #mine #if this sucks dont tell me n dadvndadk #i started this at lunch today bc i had no new orders to work on #and have spent WAY too much time tonight writing it #so im not proofreading again lmaooo #ok enough self deprecating here is a thing i did #long post

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itzynabi · 4 months

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produce 48 episode 11

word count: 1.5k

warnings: mention of throwing up and zombies

an: words in bold are japanese. her outfits in appearance: one, two

eve’s masterlist // produce 48

Eve entered the auditorium, skipping until she reached the chairs. She sat down in the front row, next to Miho.

Eve hesitantly walked into the booth. “What is this?” She wondered, sitting down on the mattress. She wiggled her butt, trying to get comfortable.

She was startled when she heard someone’s footsteps. Wanting to know who the person was, she peeked around the wall between the two booths, so that when the person came in, she’d be able to see them.

“You scared me!” The person exclaimed when they had opened their door and seen Eve.

“Bora sunbaenim?” Eve asked, pushing herself back into her booth in shock.

“You’re the first person to be peeking,” she told Eve as she sat down.

“I’m an outside of the box thinker.”

“Do you have any worries on your mind?”

Eve puffed her cheeks with air as she thought. “Um… I don’t think I have anything.”

“Really?”

“I’m too tired to be stressed about anything,” Eve revealed. “I don’t have the energy to stress.”

Bora laughed. “Why are you so funny?”

“Am I supposed to be serious?” Eve asked, also laughing.

“I’m supposed to be your counsellor.”

“Ah, I’m sorry. I don’t like talking about my feelings and I can’t be serious for too long. I’m a nightmare, right?”

“Really,” Bora agreed. “Everybody else. told me their concerns, but you’re just making me laugh.”

“I’m more of the listening type,” Eve explained when they had both calmed down. “I listen to others when they tell me their concerns, I don’t like to be the one talking about my concerns.”

“You’re that style. You feel uncomfortable talking about your feelings to others.”

Eve nodded. “Yes! The fact that there’s a camera isn’t making it easier.”

Bora hummed in understanding. “Do you read comments about yourself? Under your fancams?”

“More than reading comments, I watch the fancam,” Eve said, her tone making Bora laugh. “I need to take notes on what I can improve on so I usually read about three comments and then focus on the fancam.”

“You’re really amazing!” Bora complimented, resting her arms on the table. “Since you’re so amazing, I’m going to give you a gift.”

“Oh, really?”

Bora passed Eve a small box. The young girl opened it, seeing small slips of paper. She read the writing on the first paper, sighing heavily.

“That was a heavy sigh,” Bora noted.

“I… I don’t want to talk about it,” Eve said, changing her mind about telling Bora how she was feeling.

“No! Tell me!” Bora whined. “Otherwise I’m here for nothing.”

Eve groaned for a few seconds before sighing. “Okay. I’ve… been afraid that I didn’t have any fans. Because I don’t think my recent performance was that good, so I think they got sick of me and just began voting for a different trainee. That was a stress for me, but seeing the letters made me feel better.”

“Didn’t you come in first place at the last ranking?” Bora asked.

“I did, but since it’s a survival show, the public opinion is what matters the most. If I don’t get a lot of screen time in an episode, I fear that they’ll forget about me. Or if I make a mistake, I’m scared they’ll decide I’m not ready to debut and they won’t vote for me.”

Bora nodded, beginning to understand where Eve’s head was at. “It must be hard for you. Whenever you’re scared, you can read those notes and gain confidence again.”

“Okay. Thank you!”

At the end, Bora came out of her booth and went to stand in front of Eve. Eve stood up so that she could give Bora a hug. “Continue to be amazing,” Bora encouraged.

“We will now reveal the four trainees ranking in fourth to first place, as chosen by National Producers,” Seunggi announced. “We will reveal them on stage.”

Eve sighed. She started singing 1 of 1 under her breath, using the song to calm herself down as she played with her fingers.

Miho wordlessly offered Eve her hand when she noticed the younger girl picking at her fingers. “You’re going to make it,” she said.

Eve looked to her left and grabbed Chaeyeon’s hand. “We’re going to make it.”

“Please reveal them now,” Seunggi said.

Miho, Eve, Chaeyeon and Sakura were revealed to be in the running for first place, causing Eve to sigh in relief, putting her head in her hands.

After Chaeyeon was announced in fourth place and Miho third, Eve stared blankly ahead of her.

“There are two trainees whose ranks still need to be announced. Miyawaki Sakura from HKT48 and Kim Nabi from JYP Entertainment,” Seunggi announced. “One of these two trainees will rank in first place during this ranking announcement. Please come up to the podium on stage.”

Eve stood up with a sigh, hugging trainees that she passed as she made her way to the stage.

“Kim Nabi from JYP Entertainment, it’s your second time on that podium. How does it feel?”

“I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“Pardon?”

“Throw up. That’s what I feel like I’m going to do.”

“Ah, this must be stressful for you. You were first place last ranking so you must feel pressure to be first again.”

“Honestly, I don’t feel pressure to be in first place again because there’s nothing I can do to make myself be first. I don’t really know why I’m stressing so much, because I already know I’ve made it through to the last stage.”

He asked Sakura a similar question, getting her response before continuing. “I will now announce the trainee in first place. It’s Kim Nabi from JYP Entertainment!”

The trainees cheered for Eve as she gasped.

“Kim Nabi from JYP Entertainment received 373 783 votes in total. How does it feel to be in first place?”

“It feels nice,” Eve said, still a little bit in shock. “I didn’t think I’d be in first place, but National Producers voted a lot for me so I’m very thankful. I also want to thank all of the trainees for being really nice people, um… Even if we didn’t talk for a long time, I will treasure my memories with you. Once again, thank you to National Producers for letting me continue to walk on this path.”

“Kim Nabi-ssi, did you prepare anything in case you came in first?”

“Um, I didn’t think I would come in first, so I didn’t prepare a ceremony,” she admitted. “What should I do?”

“Ballet!” Yunjin shouted from the crowd of trainees that hadn’t made it, causing everyone to laugh.

Nabi jumped off of her box and did fouettes. After Sakura made her speech, they both walked up the stairs, stopping to hug trainees.

The trainees entered the room in order of their rank, gasping when Cheetah and Soyou entered after them. They explained the final evaluation to the trainees.

“Which part are you choosing, Nabi?” Soyou asked as Nabi stepped forwards.

“Um… I don’t know. I know which one I want, but there’s already a trainee there.”

“But since you’re first, you get to kick the other trainee out,” Cheetah reminded her.

“I don’t want to hurt her feelings.”

“You’re very nice and all, but you need to think about yourself.”

“I know, but I also have to think about how my actions affect others.”

Soyou sighed. “Which song do you want to do?”

“I’m In Your Care Now.” She groaned. “Okay, I’ve made my decision. I choose…”

“Are you still deciding?” Cheetah asked.

Eve nodded. “I just need to make sure it’s the right choice. Okay, I choose sub-vocal one,” she announced. She put her sticker in the block, moving Hitomi’s to the sub-vocal nine block as the other girl groaned. She stayed silent as she stared at the board. “I feel bad, can I swap with her?”

“No.” Soyou shut her down. “Once you put your sticker down, you can’t pick it up.”

“This is cruel. Hitomi, I’m sorry,” she apologised.

Team I’m In Your Care Now had their vocal class with the trainers. They were given feedback and told to consider changing the main vocal.

Eve, sensing the tense atmosphere in the room, shifted her eyes around. “Would you rather–”

“Oh my goodness!” Cheetah exclaimed softly, hanging her head with a chuckle. The rapper’s exasperation caused some of the trainees to loosen up.

“–give birth to a zombie or marry a zombie?”

Hoongki scratched his neck as he laughed. “How do you come up with these questions?”

“I just think of them,” Eve honestly said.

“This question is so… I don’t know which one I want,” Soyou admitted.

“But, just because you’re marrying a zombie, doesn’t mean you actually have to spend time with him,” Cheetah pointed out. “You can live in separate houses and only see each other every weekend.”

Soyou agreed, “That’s right.”

“Just sign the document and never see the zombie again,” Hoongki joked.

“What if you have to live with the zombie?” Eve asked.

“Separate rooms,” Cheetah answered.

“What if you have to be in the same room and same bed?”

Soyou sighed. “You, keep quiet,” she jokingly scolded.

Eve made a show of pursing her lips as she nodded.

tagging: @seolboba // @ateezivy // @ateezjuliet // @cafemilk-tea // @smh-anon // @alixnsuperstxr // @cosmicwintr // @girlzwfun // @txt-yaomi // @moongrlz

©️ kim nabi

#ficnetfairy #itzy 6th member #itzy sixth member #itzy oc #itzy addition #itzy added member #itzy extra member #itzy member au #itzy imagines #kpop oc #kpop addition #kpop added member #kpop extra member #kpop au #kpop imagines

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these-written-reveries · 6 months

Text

➡ Mutuals, followers, and anyone else with a sense of humanity, please read this! Especially if you've been avoiding what's been happening in Palestine! This is partially me expressing my thoughts/feelings, but I do have a good point and helpful links at the end!

I have to say I am so heartbroken and disappointed to see people here actively choosing to engage in their own privilege and turning a blind eye to this tragedy. Apparently even boosting posts by reblogging is too much?

And of course, many of these people are white and have never experienced the world outside of their own white privilege and individualistic mindset (which stems directly from white supremacy/capitalism), so the thought of having to break out of that and feel uncomfortable for the sake of trying to help other people that aren't like them is like asking them to cut off their fucking arm. Meanwhile, people of color across the world have been doing so much to try to push for change, even though it was the white powers of the world who started this mess and are continuing to support it. If anything, as white people, we have an even stronger responsibility to clean up the mess our ancestors started. ESPECIALLY when our corrupt white leaders refuse to stand up and do the right thing. It is unfortunate and unfair that the responsibility lands on us everyday people to try to stop a literal genocide, but it is the reality of our present times. And we must do the right thing!

Because what happens if we all don't contribute to this? What happens if this movement for change fizzles out bc people decide to turn away from it bc it's hard/uncomfortable/scary? Well, not only will Palestinians be potentially wiped out of existence, but our world as we know it will stand no chance at ever changing. If we don't come together as humans and form community (locally & internationally), if we don't stand by our fellow siblings from other parts of the world and fight for their lives/freedom, change will never happen. And we need change, on so many levels. Do you guys really think this doesn't affect you? It affects ALL OF US. If not now, then it will later. If we can't even come together against a genocide of people, how are we ever gonna be able to stand together for any other movement of change?

This is OUR responsibility, as humans, as people. Many of our world leaders and people in power lack humanity, but that doesn't mean we don't. Right? Please prove me right here. Because seeing some of my mutuals agreeing with posts about people saying "you don't have to engage in what's going on or try to help if it makes you uncomfy, guys 🥺" is so disheartening. And let me be clear, I am not encouraging you to doomscroll all day and throw away your personal lives and cause yourselves to mentally spiral and burn yourselves out (possibly even more than you already are). What each of us is capable of doing to help this movement is gonna look different, depending on the person. But doing something is better than nothing at all. And yes, if you have any empathy in your hearts, you are going to feel pain and heartache and rage over what is happening in Palestine. Good! Use those feelings to continue to push for change! Let's actually make good use of our humanity and our privilege!

Here are some small, but impactful ways to help:

BOOST POSTS (don't just like them, reblog! This helps more than you think it does, even if you don't have many followers! It's about making noise and not allowing social media to suppress our voices!) Tag them with things such as #palestine #free palestine #gaza #free gaza

Contact your representatives/government! (The US and Europe sites provided will write an automatic script for you, but you can also find a pre-written script for your country here if you don't know where to begin with writing your own!)

United States (At the end of the script, you should add something along the lines of "If you do not stand with Palestine and vote to stop funding Israel, I will not be voting for you next election.")

Europe (click on your country at the top of the page and it'll tell you who your representatives are, how to reach them, and provide a script that you can copy and paste!)

Australia

Canada

3. Take part in the BDS movement by choosing not to support as many brands on this list as you can!

4. Donate (free option included!)

Click the button on this site (can be done once every 24 hours) and you will be helping to donate to Palestinians for free! Every click takes money from the sponsors who support this cause and gives it to Palestinians. (I plan on setting an alarm every day to remind me to press this button, and I suggest you do too!)

If you have money to spare for this cause, donate to the Palestine Children's Relief Fund!

5. Finally, learn what you can, even in small doses! This guide gives great info on the past/present regarding Palestine and provides lots of sources! This is perfect if you're interested in learning more, but don't know where to begin.

Bottom line: it doesn't take a whole lot of effort to take action and contribute to this movement. Small action is still action and -with enough of it- can lead to big change! The hardest part is working to unwind/unlearn/recognize our individualistic mindsets and our privilege and choosing to do and be better! Change is only possible if we all do our part to make it happen. So let's make it happen! ❤️

#palestine #free palestine #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #gaza #free gaza #k.talks

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be-ready-when-i-say-go · 5 days

Text

Sweet Dreams--Part 12

Calum and you have dance around reality for a few months now. But after Calum leaves and returns from a trip, the reality has to be confronted.

Weeks are passing and maybe more is blooming between you and Calum than might meet the eye.

Prince!Calum x Reader Insert.

Series Masterlist

Complete Masterlist

The snap of the camera sounds well after the flash of the light. Then behind it, what sounds like a thousand more shutters erupt. The flashes blink like the silver dots Calum used to call angels when he was a child in his vision. As he approaches the podium, Calum thinks less about the blinking lights. The lights don’t slow him down like they used to. They don’t hurt as much as they used to. This is all well practiced throughout the years. He smiles, lifting a hand in acknowledgement at the crowd that’s gathered. Since the vote, Calum’s been keeping an eye on the way the funds have been helping those in need, continually surveying those that took place in his initial conversations and polls. Things seem to be going well. But at the conclusion of this year, there still are four seats that will need to be filled.

It’s unconventional for Calum to even bring this discussion to the floor for the public. The truth of the matter is, he knows he can’t serve a community and people that he knows very little about. He doesn’t know their concerns. He doesn’t know what specific things are plaguing the majority. He’s sure there’s even more pressing things for select groups--everyone has their own prioritization but still Calum’s not on the pulse like he wants to be. So, he’s here now to re-introduce the surveys and forms available to the public. He wants them to know he is listening. Though it is tedious work to review those surveys on a quarterly basis, Calum’s happy to have a team willing to do the nitty gritty work--him included.

“Thank you for joining me here today. I know we’re closing in on the holidays soon and food and family are most likely at the forefront of everyone’s minds, but still it means a lot that you’ve still shown up here today,” Calum starts, working at the button of his suit jacket. “I’m also happy to see some pretty familiar faces too.”

And it’s true, as Calum peers out at the swarm of reporters, there are a few faces he’s learned to anticipate to see. A few laughs rise from the crowd and Calum takes a moment to glance down at his notes. It’s not a full on written speech, but it is a pretty tightly packed list of talking points.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time today, folks. It is a Friday afternoon after all and I’m not a cruel man. We’re at the tail end of the year and after a particularly tight win in ensuring that additional funds are processed for those in need, it is still very much my intent to keep on the pulse of public concerns. I may be a man a little removed from the day to day struggles of the average person. I am a man aware that the reality of my day to day is vastly different from others. This, most likely, won’t be news to some. But I am hoping that by taking just a few minutes here today, I am able to encourage people to participate actively in their politics and re-introduce them to a tool to express their voice directly.

“As it has been for the twenty years or so, on our parliament’s website there is a section which allows the public to write into us about concerns they have--whether it be about your specific counties roads, or library, or school--you have the space to let us know what is and what is not working for you. Now, to address concerns, I am sure people will have: yes, this was originally buried and hard to navigate to from the home page. There is a lot of news that we do try to share with you all and information we know you need to access more easily. Yet, I do not want this to be a continued excuse that frustrates people to the point where they believe that their feedback is not valued.

“It is, in fact, the opposite. It is important that I know exactly what challenges are being faced day in and day out for my people. I am here to serve you. Given this goal to become more increasingly aware, I’ve worked with our designers to create the “Talk to Us” button.”

Calum waves now to the screen behind him, which in the reflection in some of the glasses from those in the front row, he can see the slide is now showing. The home page--a stale blue--lights up behind him. “The home bar will now, at the conclusion of this press conference, include a direct link to the form, entitled, “Talk to Us”. When you click on this link, you’ll be asked to inform us of location specific details, if necessary, as well as being able to write directly and freely to your government on the actions you see that we need to take or directions you’d like us to head.”

A small murmur starts from the crowd, but it remains low and dies down soon too. Calum knows that soon a new slide should be appearing that showcases an example of the form itself so he continues on, slow and clearly as he speaks, “We will be launching in the new year the opportunity for you to respond to surveys we have created as well once you click on this link. These surveys will be no more than 10 questions at a time and participation is voluntary. The contents of these surveys will be a combination of concerns we have as your government and concerns brought up by you individually. Consider it a feedback loop. The more you tell us about issues, and the more you participate in those voluntary surveys, the better we can serve you. Concerns brought up through the Talk to Us function will be reviewed on a quarterly basis. We hope to hear from you soon.”

“Any questions?” Calum prompts, taking in the faces and notes being scribbled down. A couple hands are being raised after a few seconds. “Yes,” Calum notes, seeing a man in a sky blue button up start to raise his hand.

He introduces himself and his associated press. “Considering that this function has existed on the website long before now, do you have any thoughts on why previous administrations haven’t taken to making this more accessible until now?”

A question Calum anticipated and he hates the way it pits administrations against each other. “I can’t speak for why previous ones haven’t considered reorganizations of the public website. But as we gain more literacy about user experience and design, it has become clearer than ever that the front page of any website is the most important in getting people to what they need as quickly as possible. We are working with some SEO strategies as well to help ensure that this link does show up in the first two pages of search engine results as well. There’s an entirely new field in politics revolving around online presences and social media. Our drive now is also tied to the direct evolution of this technology in the last few years as well.”

It’s a lot of hot air, even Calum knows that, but he has to say it this way. Has to make sure he’s careful of those that have come before him. Something so simple as adding a link seems obvious now but may not have been obvious before.

Calum moves on to the next person--a woman, in a pink almost orange top, who gives her name and associated press as well. “Is there any plan to move these functions to an app perhaps in the future?”

“Not currently at this time, no,” Calum answers. “But the page itself will allow users that need it to use speech to text, screen readers, dark mode backgrounds and ensure to adhere to accessibility guidelines as well.”

Another man raises his hand, a white and black striped shirt. Calum signals to him for him to ask his question. After his name and press, the man continues on, “Are there concerns about backlash? People feeling like their concerns aren’t being addressed fast enough or feeling like there’s a ranking system when it comes to concerns.”

“Our team has assessed as thoroughly as we can the best way to sustain the use of this forum and survey platform. We won’t be able to get to every concern sent in and we will have to look at volume as it relates to each individual item raised. But we hope that by establishing the quarterly review timeline, we can be transparent enough to the public about why things may seem to be moving much slower than they anticipated. I have a team established, me included, who will be continually reviewing what is coming in and how efficient are current practices as well.”

“So, you’re really not afraid of the dirty work,” the man teases. The room bubbles with a soft bout of laughter.

Calum laughs as well. “No, I’m not afraid of the dirty work. It is valuable work to do as I’ve come to learn.” Calum is a little afraid he might be spreading himself a bit thin by taking this one, but should he need to take a step back, he already has people he can pull in to help the team as well. Right now, there’s a lot of the paid interns doing the footwork, but Calum hopes this plan creates a big enough need that he can hire some of them on as full time staffer positions in the next two years.

Calum, keeping an eye on the time, makes mention that he can only take two more questions to ensure he sticks to his early promise of not sucking up their entire afternoon. So he moves on to another lady in purple. She stands with a smile. “It appears that your special friend seems to be making an impression on you. My particular question--”

“I’m sorry, what?” Calum interrupts. “Who’s making an impression on me?”

Her face falls for a moment, but she recovers with an awkwardly thick laugh. “I think it’s quite obvious.”

Calum’s brows furrow. Part of him wonders if this person is referring to you. But this hardly seems like the place for it. Perhaps there’s something else he’s missing. “Well, color me surprised, because I am genuinely unable to follow your logic and statement. Could you clarify what you mean?”

The woman laughs again, but she begins to fidget with the cap of her pen. Maybe Calum’s not wrong about his initial assessment. But the seconds tick on and he’s not sure if he’s going to gloss over it or let her sit in her discomfort. She finally speaks but her voice shakes, “I just-I mean it’s obvious between your speech before the vote and the photos now that have repeatedly surfaced.”

More now than ever Calum’s positive what she’s been trying to hint at--you. There’s hardly been news of the two of you lately, seeing as you worked, painted, and fussed over your siblings, Calum and you hadn’t been out in the public much over the last few weeks. Maybe there were pictures of your late night run for cookies at Calum’s insistence last week. But that hardly feels worthy of being brought up in a political press conference.

“I’m sorry. Can you remind me of your name again?” Calum asks. “I think I missed it initially.”

“Pamela,” she offers though she does have to repeat it given how softly she says it the first time. Like how Calum imagines a child reacts to getting in trouble--sheepish and embarrassed.

“And your press?”

“Times--Politics division.”

“Thank you, Pamela. I think given the particular reason for this conference this is not the place to divulge into personal affairs--mine, yours, or anyone else’s. Now, I do believe that Times sees you as talented and nuanced at political coverage, lest you wouldn’t be in the room responsible for covering their story about our meeting. I know this news is relatively small and for someone like you it may not take you more than an hour to write, edit, and publish. So let’s ensure that we continue to show Times your brilliance at politics. That sound good?”

She nods, fervently so that the strands she’d tucked behind her ear fall out again. “Ye-yes, Your Highness. I’m sorry.”

Part of him wants to say no worries. But he is a bit annoyed by such a comment she attempted to make, the things she might’ve been trying to insinuate. It could be harmless and it could’ve been so much more sinister. Calum merely nods. “Apology accepted. Now, what’s your question?”

“Thank-thank you. My question is, uh, in regards to the longevity of this new launch, can we expect this to be a long term investment in your tenor when you transition to take over for your father?”

Calum nods at the question. “As long as I remain at the helm, I do intend to continue to promote and invest in transparency on how the public can and should influence their government. The ‘Talk to Us’ is essentially launch zero, if you will. It’s, again, a function that’s been integrated into the site for years now. But I hope that these initial changes to its location help open the door for much more political discourse between the public and parliament.”

Her descent back to her seat is not graceful by any means. Pamela dives back to her seat and Calum feels a small pang of guilt in his gut. “Thank you again for your time,” Calum turns to address the entire room. “I fear we’re out of time for today. But I do greatly appreciate you spending your Friday afternoon with me. I hope you all have a great weekend.”

Calum steps away from the podium and sees Pamela still buried in her pad. Perhaps, she hadn’t meant harm, but the more Calum let slide, the more people would feel brave with their off handed comments, or worse probes into his personal life. This is a world he’d learned to navigate thanks to the years he’d been raised in. You deserve any and all amounts of privacy that can be scraped together.

His phone is returned to him when Calum returns to the wings. “Great work out there,” Miranda comments before she turns back to her iPad.

Calum watches her squint, releasing a sigh before he reaches up to her hair and takes the pair of red glasses down. She’d finally caved in getting the prescription but still refused at times on wearing them. “You might even be able to tell me I did a better job if you could see it.”

“Well my hair’s made the lenses greasy,” she huffs.

Calum offers his spare handkerchief tucked away into the inner pocket of the suit jacket. “Keep it for the sake of your eyeballs please.”

Miranda hums at the offer, which Calum knows will most likely be her only response to it. “I’ll keep an eye out for the response about Pamela’s probe. Should we ask Times to not put her back on the rotation?”

This question sounds genuine and when Calum turns the corner, he risks a glance over to Miranda. Nothing follows the question--no quip, no retort. For a moment, Calum’s positive it’s a trick question but the silence lingers and weighs for longer than usual. “Uh, she asked a good question in the end.”

“Yes, she did. But from what we’ve discussed, we are in the ‘loose lips, sink ships’ position. And this is your relationship, so speak now before I make the call.”

“Don’t box her out,” Calum returns. “Doing so might send too strong of a message and we’re not really in a position to bring down the hammers.”

Miranda nods. “Could make us look desperate and unfair too. You handled it exceptionally well though today, so I am very proud of that. Next week, the fitting is scheduled as a heads up for the charity event. This does mean, I have to ask, will you and your partner be walking the carpet together? We wouldn’t want to use this event for any sort of announcement, but if the two of you are comfortable with the idea, then we’ll need to just review the etiquette for the event with them.”

Now that’s the kind of question expected from Miranda. Direct, no nonsense, objective focused and lasered in. “I’ll talk to them. They’ll be on display with their painting though and my volunteer time.”

“It’s whatever the two of you decide. I’m just saying should you two walk the carpet together, we make no announcements. You walk, you talk to a couple reporters that are outside but you don’t say anything about the relationship. Even if asked.”

Calum nods, tucking his folder up under his arm after pressing the call button for the elevator. Miranda’s right. The charity event would not be the right place for him to say anything. And he’d be a hypocrite now after handling Pamela to try and steal the stage for such an important event. The two of you could walk it separately in blocks close to each other--he goes first for a minute or so and then you follow. But the two of you would inevitably wind up locked arm in arm as the night progressed. But to walk the carpet together and explicitly not answer any questions would be more awkward in the end. Though, it would matter at the end of it what you preferred.

“How much should I bet that you need a final decision by the time we meet for the fitting?” Calum asks, letting Mirand into the elevator first.

Miranda snorts at the question. “I wouldn’t bet anything you couldn’t afford.”

You’re supposed to be going back home tonight after your shift. Though it feels like a good portion of your belongings have drifted into the palace, you spend a decent portion of your time at your own place too. Where you live is technically closer to your job and easier on your car for sure. Calum takes a look at the time. It’s pushing just a couple minutes past four pm. The dinner rush would undoubtedly be starting in the next hour or so and Calum knows he can’t squeeze any extra time out of his day.

But he spies a text from you, from ten minutes ago, and wonders if he could snag you still once he gets back to his office. The preview of the text stares back up at Calum, Have I ever told you just how…. It piques his interest and he swipes to start input his passcode. “You’ll have an answer Monday,” Calum returns to Miranda.

“Sounds good.”

Have I ever told you just how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press? Because if not, I really should tell you how hot it is to watch you in that suit dealing with the press.

Another text comes through just as Calum starts to type.

In all seriousness, thanks for handling that particular comment like you did. I know sooner or later things will come out in the open, probably the charity event undoubtedly, but it means a lot for you to still keep this close to the vest still. And you are hot too, which helps. Love you.

The doors open again and Miranda gestures in Calum’s periphery. He looks up to see her holding out his handkerchief. “Thanks.”

“Didn’t I tell you to keep it so that you have no excuses for not wearing your glasses?” Calum laughs.

Miranda’s body half way between the doors keeps them from shutting but she eyes him, lips curled up in an unamused smile. “I think it’s a little inappropriate.”

“And I think you should be able to see.”

“Take it,” she orders, waving the cloth at him to take it. “I have a lens cloth in my office.”

Calum edges closer to the opening of the machine. She refuses to meet his gaze and it makes the suspicion increase tenfold. “Show me. Because if you’re lying.”

“Oh, fine,” Miranda huffs. “I lost it. The same fucking day I got the damn glasses and I lost the cloth.”

“Then keep it,” he laughs. “I’ve got too many of them anyway.”

“Thanks,” she mutters and then starts down towards her office.

“You’re welcome,” Calum calls out watching the doors slide closed.

His attention turns back to your text even with the tuft of laughter he releases at Miranda’s stubbornness. I hope I wasn’t too harsh on her. But thank you, baby. I’ll keep that in mind for later. He adds a winking emoji before continuing on, Is it bad yet for you guys? Love you more. He asks even though he’s sure he won’t get a response until either your next break or until you leave for the night. But he sends it anyway and swipes through his other missed messages.

There’s one from Luke in the groupchat, We’ve got Forest reserved at 5:00 PM the Saturday before Michael’s birthday. The restaurant does close earlier than most at 8 just as a heads up.

Calum hadn’t been fully aware that Forest was even an option for the dinner. He’d tossed out a few options, one was a sushi place that Michael loved for late lunch or a really early dinner and the other was a French inspired cuisine. But it wouldn’t shock Calum if he’d lost track of the names. It does make Calum wonder if it would be feasible to ask you to join. Would it be too awkward for you?

There’s a few more texts in the chat so Calum scrolls down. Ashton asks about the other options they’d discussed and Luke replied that they’d been booked for the time for the time or wouldn’t let reservations be made this far in advance. Forest has a three week window for reservations which allows them to get to the slot now. Given how rapidly schedules shift, Calum knows it’s better to take this now rather than wait too much longer.

Luke, how many did you confirm for? Calum asks.

They can only support a group of 12 max. So I went with that. I can keep checking other places too in the meantime.

Calum settles into his office chair, popping a few more buttons at his dress shirt. A text from Michael comes through. Forest is cool with me. My parents and I are doing things on my actual birthday. We should be good at 12. There’s you three, me, our plus ones and then a couple dudes I worked with previously I’d want to do dinner with. We can say 9 for a bigger group at some local bars and then call it a night by midnight if that’s cool?

Sounds good to me, Luke replies.

Cool with me, Calum answers and Ashton replies with the same sentiment of an affirmative.

Calum wipes to take him back to his text message threads and taps on your name. Michael’s birthday dinner is going to be 5PM on the 17th. It’s at Forest. Do you know if you’ll be working?

The answer feels like a no. You wouldn’t know because he doubts the schedules made that far out in advance. But Calum prays. He hopes maybe by the cosmos divine art you can see the text message here soon. A watch pot never boils and his eyes glued to the screen won’t make you respond faster. So Calum turns back to his office computer, saves some work for the templates, and data collection. It is a Friday and there’s very little work that he’ll be able to get done or want to get done at this moment.

The elevator settles and the doors open up to the residency hall. Calum, if he ever had a tie on, would absolutely be tugging it off his neck as he walks towards his bedroom door. Instead, he only has the buttons he works at on his shirt. There’s still no text from you. He knows the dinner rush has gone up in its major swing. But when his phone buzzes, and Calum checks it to be sure if it’s not you, he contemplates if he’s going to agree to the schedule he made of working out in the evenings. He knows he should. There’s been a lot of time spent indoors, cooped up by his computer and various documents. It’ll be good for him, even if it’ll hurt just a little, so Calum pulls himself free from the dress pants, shirt, and shoes. He dawns himself into the basketball shorts, his workout sneakers and a t-shirt. He even takes the stairs back down.

The air is crisp outside; it hits his lungs sharply and Calum’s grateful for it. The grass crunches just a little under his feet as he settles the free weights down. Calum starts with stretches, trying to loosen the left hip that likes to get a bit stiff on him. It’s an old injury, probably from one of the few times Calum pushed himself a little too hard in games. He hardly feels it when he’s on top of his physical therapy regime. But he falls off every few weeks when things get busy and the stiffness makes itself known more and more. Calum knows he should coordinate another appointment with his physical therapist about it. Maybe during the holiday break he’ll snag an appointment.

His headphones play a thrash of guitars, the high tssing of the symbols on the drum kit come filtering through. Calum pulls the dumbbell up, the tightening of his bicep letting him know he’s doing the exercise right. As much as it can feel like a drag, as much as the weights do get heavier as the sets go on, Calum finds the small sliver of peace. When he’s got no thoughts but keeping track of his reps. The motions are up and down, the brace of his core, the inhale and exhale. Calum focuses on the press, the pushing of the ground away from his body as he goes through a round of pushups.

Twenty-nine, thirty.

His music lowers for a moment, a chime louder than his music. Calum keeps pushing up, taking himself back down, and then pushing back up. Thirty-four, thirty-five, thirty-six. Another chime cuts through.

Forty.

His knees brush the ground first as he releases his plank and digs out his phone. I wish I’d seen this sooner, reads your reply. Turner just asked me if I was okay with working that day because of a large party and I said yes.

Calum pants, the sweat running down the lines of his face. Though it’s cold outside, the jumping jacks, the exertion of his exercises have made him sweat. Calum can’t lie, part of him is tempted to ask if you could switch out the hours, but he knows. You’re not just working to kill time in the day. You’re working to survive. You’re working to take care of yourself and potentially as it looms your siblings too.

Calum wipes at his brow before working over the screen to reply. Well, the invitation for you to join for drinks after will still stand if you’re up for it.

Sounds good. I’ll make sure Michael’s well taken care of though. Promise. To make up for missing out on the festivities, could you find out his favorite sweet treat?

Calum nods without thinking. I will. Let me know when you get home, yeah?

Of course. Also, to answer your earlier question: it’s busy as fuck. I’m literally in the freezer right now trying to compose myself just for a second.

Calum snorts at the mental image--you in your uniform tucked into the walk-in freezer. But he also knows what it means, just how busy things have gotten. A piece of guilt rises up in his throat, like bile it burns. He’d never meant to make things worse. He never meant to put you in such positions. But nothing changes what’s happened. The only thing now is forward. The only thing now is what could be made of what’s happening in the present.

Tell the tomatoes to be kind to you, Calum replies.

“Don’t tell me I need to call the nurse with the way you’re breathing.”

Calum looks up to his father, who grins down at him. Calum laughs at the quip, as patchy as it comes. “No, no need to call the nurse.”

“Dinner’s ready, you know. Pretty sure it’s some fancy pasta I’ll never be able to pronounce."

With how thick the early evening is around them, how dark it is for only how early it feels, Calum is not shocked that it is dinner time. He nods, wiping at his dripping brow again. “I need to clean up but I’ll be there in a minute.”

His dad lingers and the words are pressing at the back of Calum’s teeth, if everything is okay, but his dad beats him to the punch. David grunts as he lowers himself into the grass next to Calum. “You’ll help me up, right?”

“Yeah, Pops, I will. What’s up? I thought dinner was ready with some fancy pasta you can’t pronounce.”

“It is, it is. But I was, well, I know there’s been a lot of conversation that’s sort of up in the air about when me and your mother are going to take a step back from the game. And I know it’s something you’re thinking about. You did real well in your press conference today. I do think that sometimes the best solutions are the most simple ones. I just wanted to see when the two of us could really sit down and talk about what that transition will look like and when we’re both comfortable with it. And, and I’m not asking we do it right now. But soon, in the new year, we look at our schedules and find a good day for it.”

It’d been an ever approaching deadline--something that would happen and would happen sooner rather than later. But it still felt far away in praxis. Transitioning of power was a thing that was approaching but it hadn’t hit the horizon. Now, though, as Calum watches his father, he thinks perhaps he’d been counting on at least a couple more years, something closer to thirty than not but nothing ever happens like anyone wants for it too.

Calum nods though at his father’s request. “Yeah, we can find a time for that.”

“Good, good,” David returns, patting at Calum’s knee. “And things are okay? Anything you need to talk about?”

“Things are okay.” They’re far from perfect, but they’re not bad. Yet, Calum doesn’t voice that. The balance in the universe was not to make things perfect by his definition.

“That doesn’t sound too convincing. You alright?”

“It’s--it’s just life, Dad. You know? Every up has a down.”

“What kind of downs are we talking?”

From the night, Calum catches the scratch of the crickets tuning up for the night time songs. The darkness is closing in rapidly and ruthlessly. As much as Calum did want to voice his concerns, he also knows his father is going to be a solution oriented person. The second a problem crops up, his father wants to find a solution for it. Calum’s not really looking for solutions right now. “It’s anthills,” Calum answers. Because they are, they are small concerns in the grand scheme of everything. “But I can handle them. I know I can.”

“Well, if you need reinforcements, I got your back.”

“Will do, Dad. Thanks.”

“And, and if you need to just vent, I’m here for that too.”

It’s anthills. And they were small, but still mighty. “Guess, it’s just sort of scary to know I’ll actually be taking over, you know? It was real, but was always sort of in the distance.”

“It is scary,” David agrees. “It’s very scary. But just because you’d be taking over doesn’t mean I’m not there to help. Consider me a consultant.”

“What’s your retainer fee?” Calum jokes, watching the grin bloom on his father’s face.

“Oh, don’t worry about that. But it’s okay if it’s scary. You’re human doing something new for the very first time. It’s going to be scary. And the next time you do something for the first time, that’ll be scary too. But the more you do the things, the less scary it gets you know. It’s like when you learned to drive. You were terrified to get behind that wheel. But look at you now. A driving whizz. It’ll take you some time, but I’ll still be there for you. Promise, son.”

It’s reassuring, certainly. Calum won’t be doing it all alone, but it’ll be his face and his name that’s riding on everything that comes after the transition. That’s the part that terrifies him. Yet, Calum can’t control what hasn’t happened yet. To worry about what hasn’t happened wouldn’t only serve to paralyze Calum in the long run. But the fear bubbles, like a pot left on simmer, Calum can feel it in his gut. It’s going to be a strange time. “Thanks, Pops,” Calum offers softly.

“You’re welcome. Now, help me up, yeah?”

Calum laughs as he works himself up. “No one told you sit down on the grass.”

“Oh, hush.”

It’s with a few grunts, but Calum helps his dad up. “You good?” Calum asks and gets a nod in response. “I’m going to get these weights inside and at least wash my hands and face before joining you and Mum.”

“See you inside.”

Calum’s left with a pat on his back, but as the night chirps around him, he hopes that he’s not really alone in all of this. The weights are a little heavier than they were before but Calum gets them up with no issue. He ducks into one of the bathrooms on the first floor, washing his hands before splashing water over his face. He watches the water drip down his chin. He wants to tell you--how scared he is, how much he doesn’t want to do this, but knows he’s got no other choice. But will it seem trivial?

Yet somehow right behind the doubt, he hears your voice, telling him that it doesn’t matter if it’s small, all that matters is that he’s scared. And that it’ll be okay. It’ll be okay, Calum chants to himself down the hallway and back into the kitchen. It’ll all be okay. Because it has to be okay. Because it’s been six years of Calum in Cabinet and it’s all worked out so far. So it’ll keep working out in the end.

“Oh, you stink,” Joy laughs, as Calum slides into the bench across the table.

“I washed my hands and face at the very least,” he grins-- a rule ingrained into him from his childhood.

She shakes her head, sliding the plate closer his way. “At least there was that.”

The warm water is a welcomed reprieve, after dinner and clambering his way back upstairs, Calum can feel himself craving bed. It’s early, he knows. But the fear from transition is heavy on his bones. It’s not even late enough for you to be off work so he can’t call as you drive back to your apartment. And he wants to stay awake long enough for that, for the hum of your drive and the soft lull of your voice.

But in the stillness, Calum holds to the quiet voice in the back of his head. What will it all mean when he takes over? All the while you asked him what he wanted to do, what really made him happy, and all the while Calum answered that he would always do his duty, he would serve. And he’d be proud to serve; he is. But his father has already been the crutch. Calum’s never been on his own doing this. Does he actually want to do it? Or is this just the natural reaction of fear?

It all feels like being underwater. When he falls into his mattress, Calum feels the whoosh of air like a head ducking under the surface of water. There is a world above him--the duty he’s always followed, the path that always felt like loomed before him no matter what twists and turns he took in his life. But he is in the water, arms scoping water at his sides to keep him afloat and his movements feel slow and sluggish. Is this really all that he’s wanted? Could it all be just the things Calum’s told himself to believe so it makes it feel less like force and more like choice?

The ticking of the clock is long, but at some point his ears goes numb to the sound, focused instead of keeping up with the race of his thoughts. He chases them round and round as they go.

The ringing of his phone pulls him back up and out of the rush and thump of his internal dialogue. Calum fumbles for a moment to get the phone off the charger, but when he finally gets a firm grip, he answers the call.

“Hi, love,” you answer--certain and confident that it’s even Calum who’s answered.

“Hi, baby,” he returns, falling back down into the mattress again.

“What is it? Something on your mind?”

“How’d you know?” he laughs. To him, he sounds all the same. But the immediacy in your question makes him wonder if he’s really as good as he thinks at keeping things under wraps with you.

“Just a feeling,” you return.

“I think my number’s been called. Dad wants to talk in the new year about transitioning out of power.”

You hum. In the background, Calum hears the beeps of cars, the rush of the wind as you walk, probably to your car. “It was always coming. But I sense something more.”

“It’s scary. Didn’t think it would be so soon. Don’t know if it’s fear or genuine how much I’m worried about taking over.”

“Fear of what?” you question. “Fear just because it’s new or something else?”

Calum pulls his phone from his hear, tapping to switch the conversation to speakerphone. It’s buying him time. Because if he says it out loud, it feels like he’s making it true. But he’s not going to hide from you. He won’t let himself do that. “Fear that I don’t know what I really want.”

“We’re all afraid of that.” Your voice echoes against the four walls of his room, fills the space in such a way that he could hardly imagine that you’re just in the bathroom.

“You seemed pretty confident about cooking.”

“It’s a means to an end. Something that I can use anywhere to make ends meet. I like cooking, at the end of the day it helps me not feel so bad about life. But I don’t know if I was put on this planet just to cook or not.”

“I guess that’s the question, huh. Have I been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

“Well,” you start, a pause echoes with the thud of your car door. “Have you? Have you been put on this planet just to work in politics?”

He wants to say no. But if he’s honest, this has always been the end of the line for him. Taking over as King was his finish line. That was the stamp on his youth, to mail it off and close down the chapter. Calum’s always thought that this is in fact the end. It’s a means to an end. But even if Calum wants to agree that he hasn’t been put on this earth just to wind up as King, he doesn't know what else is there?

“But what am I if not meant to be King?”

“Well, you’re Calum. Who trained for a summer in Brazil for football, who plays the guitar, writes some songs. You’re Calum who loved his dog for every second he walked the earth. You’re Calum who baked his mother a birthday cake and it actually held together. You’re Calum, who manages to find just the right words when they’re needed, who loves deeply and selectively. And you’ll be so much more too. But the truth of the matter, you will never find that answer in a day, in just one conversation. It’ll take years. You’ll be a King, and work in politics, and be so much more. This is not an either-or situation, maybe. I know I asked previously about it. And I apologize if that made it seem like you had to choose. Perhaps, you don’t have to choose.”

Perhaps, you don’t have to choose. “Yeah,” Calum agrees, gaze focusing in on his ceiling. He does actually miss those stars now that he thinks about it. He wonders where he could find the stencils again. Would it be stupid to paint them back? “Maybe you’re right.”

#calum hood #calum hood fanfic #calum hood fic #calum hood au #prince!calum #calum hood x reader #calum hood x gender neutral reader #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5sos imagine #calum hood imagine #calum hood series #h writes

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akookminsupporter · 1 year

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My dearest Rosie,

I’ve been thinking on what to say since I saw those awful and insulting asks directed at you. My first inclination was to blast that ignorant, asinine, rude, entitled, foolish and arrogant anon who decided to offer their unsolicited opinion. However, talking to people who are puffed up in their own importance and think they know everything isn’t worth our precious time. Not to mention GoGo already said everything that needed to be said to one such as that person. To you I say this:

1) You have no reason to feel bad, humiliated, upset, ashamed or any other negative emotion that person was trying to make you feel by saying what was said. You don’t owe anyone any explanations AT ALL. It’s infuriating that you were made to feel less than by someone being cowardly behind the screen comfortable in their Anon status.

2) Your English is amazing and even more so that you’re self taught. You are always clear, articulate and concise. And since we’re running around declaring if we’re native English speakers now, as a native English speaker myself what you said was accurate, on point and exactly what business is about. So to reiterate what others have said, reading comprehension is a thing and native English speaker or not, Anon purposely missed the point because they were too busy throwing shade and being trifling. That’s on them and not on you.

3) How you support the guys is your choice and no one has the right to say you don’t support them just because you can’t buy their music and merch. Since no one is paying my bills and taking care of my responsibilities they sure as heck don’t have a say in how I spend the money I earn. I love the guys and support them but if I don’t like the music from the solo era or any era I’m not buying it. That’s a waste of money that could truly go to help someone else. If I like it I’ll buy it, If I don’t I won’t. Just because I may not buy it doesn’t mean I’m not streaming, voting and supporting in other ways. It’s no one’s business how I do that as long as it’s not illegal or immoral, imo. That doesn’t make any of us less of a fan than apparently these entitled rich children who like to run around on blogs flexing their superiority and their stupidity.

Your blog is wonderful, Rosie and so are you. I love how you present your points of view. Please don’t let ugly cruel minded people steal your joy or your confidence. There’s different types of poor and being poor in knowing how to be a decent human being is the worse kind of poor there is. So just know you’re rich in your kindness of heart, your sense of humor and your love and support of the guys, your willingness to put up with aggravating anons when most of us wouldn’t do it. You’re rich where it counts, Rosie and don’t ever forget it.

And now you made me cry for different reasons, @ejassy! Thank you for such nice words and thank you for the support you have always had for my blog and me. I want to take the opportunity of this incredible message to thank all of you. To everyone who wrote a supportive comment on several of the posts, I made yesterday. Thank you to the people who sent me Asks saying they supported me and sent a hug, a word of encouragement. Thanks to those of you who wrote to me privately…. Thank you.

You are the main reason why I am still here. Those of you who have been here almost from the beginning know that sometimes it hasn't been easy and even though that's the worst Ask I've ever been sent, your support never wavered. Some of you may not believe me but I owe you guys a lot, you have unknowingly saved me many times. Last night when I started answering Asks I was having one of the worst anxiety attacks I've had in a long time and this blog somehow saved me. It was the middle of the night in my country and I couldn't do much but you guys helped me. The person who sent me that Ask unfortunately threw it all away more or less but your support again helped me. The internet is a double-edged sword it's true, but sometimes it can be your salvation. For that and more, thank you.

Gracias.

#Gracias desde el fondo de mi corazon #thank you

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taffyvontrips · 2 years

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some thoughts on the 1982 drivers' strike and a little context

So, I’ve been feeling a little odd about the 1982 drivers’ strike for a while, and I’ve been mulling over it. The reason I haven't written this post before now is because I know that a lot of people in this community are attached to the strike! I am not immune to this! It’s a great story, unexpected and fun, rich with lore. I mean, who doesn’t love union action? Who doesn’t love a good strike?

I really hate to be a buzzkill and I don’t mean to attack anyone—not any users here (definitely not!), not any drivers either really (maybe Bernie Ecclestone though). I guess I just mean this post as a conversation starter.

Anyway. People like to use the example of the 1982 strike when they’re trying to make points about modern F1. For example, when the race in Saudi Arabia was in question because of airstrikes happening near the track (I still can’t believe that went ahead, but I digress), and when Domenicali made that asinine statement about drivers’ political engagement, a lot of great posts about the strike were suddenly doing the rounds on modern f1 tumblr. Look at what they managed to do before! people were saying. See how ridiculous it is to say that Niki Lauda wasn’t political! Look here! They organised a strike, maybe they’ll do it again! We love a strike! We love a union!

And good for the drivers for sticking up for their workers' rights and so on. Good on Niki Lauda and Didier Pironi for not rolling over.

However.

Something that has always quietly gnawed away at me ever more since first learning about the strike was the fact that it took place in South Africa, in 1982, during apartheid.

If ever there has been a place where F1 should not have raced, it would be South Africa during apartheid.

The cognitive dissonance is pretty extreme to me. There was an active international campaign going on at the time to try to pressure South Africa into not being a racist backwards hellhole; musical artists were strongly encouraged not to go there as part of a large cultural boycott, trade embargos were in place, the country was excluded from the Olympics and most sports organisations. An exception to this? Formula One. While these very rich white Formula One drivers were gallivanting on Kyalami Ranch or in the Sunnyside Park Hotel, which was whites-only, the majority Black and Coloured* population were being brutally oppressed, deprived of their civil rights, displaced from their homes, and kept in poverty by an explicitly white supremacist regime.

Were the F1 drivers striking over apartheid?

Were they striking, perhaps, because non-white people did not have equal access to the GP?

Were they striking, maybe, because the Black employees at Kyalami didn’t have the right to vote?

No.

They were striking because they wanted more control over their contracts.

If the strike had happened anywhere else, I would enjoy the story without reservation. But it didn’t happen somewhere else, it happened in apartheid South Africa. I think it’s maybe good to keep that in mind as an extra dimension when we talk about the strike. It’s also useful when we think about F1’s relationship with politics—internal and external.

F1 is rumoured to race at Kyalami again next year, and I for one am very excited.

Please reblog with any additions and perspectives you may have!

*a term used in South Africa with different connotations than in other places

#sorry about this massive chunk of text #again i'd like to reiterate that i don't mean this as an attack on any of my wonderful friends on here!!#just some thoughts that have been niggling at me for a while #i have a bit of a personal stake in south africa and zimbabwe and the awful things that happened but i'm not from there #if any south africans see this and would like to chime in that would be amazing #f1 #classic f1 #retro f1 #south africa #south african gp #kyalami #1982 driver strike #1982 drivers strike #i'm waiting for a researcher on researchgate to potentially get back to me with a fulltext article on the south african gp #it's a bit of a long shot but i'm crossing my fingers #i really want to be as informed as possible #i talked to my dad about this essay and he said #the bitter irony of drivers striking for their freedom where swathes of the population #had no freedom #i think that just about hits the nail on the head

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sparkanonymous · 5 months

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⚠️ Total Drama Reboot Season 2 Spoilers ⚠️

I didn't mention this before, but the team names feel so uninspired. Even last season's team names felt more Total Drama-esque. These names are just... insults. It annoys me.

Episode 2

Caleb x Priya... I don't really like Caleb, so I'm not really into it. But it's amusing that every chance Priya gets to ogle him, Millie comes to interrupt her. Caleb is supposed to be the hottest guy on the island, but Millie is in no way interested.

Holy fucking shit. Ripaxel? The last pairing I was expecting to be honest, and I am actually unreasonably excited to see it. Kinda surprised he wasn't into Axel smashing his face with slop, though maybe he can read people well?

I'm really glad most of Ripper's teammates are trying to help him. Y'know, despite him and Axel being on different teams. Am I smelling Ripper with friends?

Julia working her ass off to not be voted out. It's just going to end in heartbreak at this point, no matter when they vote her off.

Emma, using Chase's weaknesses against him, makes her so much more entertaining to watch. I wonder if Chase will do the same thing to her at some point.

I didn't notice Nichelle's hair was tied in the back until now. Well, time to add that to the mental reference.

Zee kinda just being there and enjoying himself is just so Zee of him, lol

I love Damien and his stupid ways of getting around problems. Still one of my favorite characters, and I doubt that anything will change that.

I wonder if Wayne is going to make enemies this time. He laughed at Julia because she made a goofy noise when she hit the hoop, and no one laughed with him, not even Raj.

Buttered Ripper is disgustingly disturbing.

Ripper humiliating himself is what gets Axel's attention? Hm...

Millie ruined her relationships on her team in one foul swoop. Poor Damien honestly, because that is traumatizing. I think Millie's heart was kind of in the right place, but that was horrible.

Thank GOD Chase was voted off. I can not stand him. He adds nothing to the challenges, especially this one, and he's a massive jackass. This is painful, but I'm kind of rooting for Ripper to hang in there another couple episodes.

Episode 3

Using a character to disguise themselves as an intern is a really interesting idea. But they should have given MK a better disguise. It's very clearly just MK with a mustache. They could've at least given her a different hat and a different hairstyle.

Ripper, being a dumbass is not going to help you win over any ladies.

Raj and Wayne struggling with the concept of cheating his great. It makes a lot of sense, too.

Bowie realizing just how stupid his boyfriend and his boyfriend's friend are. Love is love. I know he's having a hard time convincing himself that Raj is someone he wants to be with for a long time, but you can tell how bad he feels for making him do something he didn't want to do.

Zee is such a dumbass.

Oh my god, they REALLY like using dodgeballs this season.

Damien knew Chris hated them all last season. Like, why is he surprised season. He's so fucking dumb, though, and adorable.

Zee getting a pet raccoon. Please let him keep it.

MKulia... it's so good this episode. They try to kill the other team, and they're flirting.

Nichelle with candy all over her. Someone needs to draw that.

I'm gonna agree with Bowie here; it's a bunch of bullshit that the numbers count. It should've had to do with how much of the team had gotten there.

Episode 4

I'm glad they kept the consequences from last episode. It's good that Raj is still upset, and I'm glad that he's a little mad at Bowie when he asked him not to cheat anymore, and Bowie immediately encouraged MK to cheat more.

I have a feeling that Raj and Wayne are gonna kick themselves off again because of the cheating. They're competitive, but they want to win fair and square.

Bowie should be more prepared to fight harder than to cheat, so I wonder how many of his crowns were because he cheated.

They fixed Priya's blush. I wonder if it was because they wanted to color it more correctly this time, or if it was because she just isn't blushing as much as she was last season.

Damn, how many noses has Axel broken to expertly refigure them?

The glass panels remind me of the clips I saw of Squid Games.

Both Bowie and Wayne calling after Raj fell...

Where's Zee's raccoon :(

Bowie's reaction on the screen made it pretty evident the answer was A, Emma.

Damn, nobody knows anyone this season...

JULIA, your gay is showing.

Zee, that's disgusting.

That finger on the chin... Axel, I know you're threatening Emma, but COME ON. (Like, remember when Bowuigi shot up in popularity because of the Mario Movie trailers for the same thing?)

Ripper can read people really well, huh? Caleb, too.

Axel burning the hell out of Emma. Verbally beat the shit out of her, girl.

Emma's gonna get herself voted off... or maybe Priya...

Ripper taking his shot with the poetry for Axel.

Raj... I'm so sorry...

Bowie with the Michael Jackson moves, lol

Emma, she knew it was B... I guess it's time to vote off Priya... maybe...

Raj hugging Bowie, thinking he wasn't cheating and was just that good at reading people. Ugh, they're gonna break up this season, aren't they?

YEAH RIPAXEL

Okay, I'll make more notes when the next episode comes out. I honestly wish Damiya was the Priya ship, but whatever.

#total drama #total drama reboot #total drama spoilers #td spoilers #spark speaks

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thepaintedlady00 · 11 months

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Burden Rewrite Preview

Since a lot of you guys still voted for a sequel over a rewrite, I wanted to give y'all these little previews to kind of hopefully showcase the depth that the rewrite will be adding. I will still be doing the sequel events, but it'll all be wrapped up in this singular fic rather than split into multiple parts.

Enjoy the previews and let me know what y'all think! 🥰

Weaving through the trees, letting your hands glide along the scratchy bark of the trees and over their tufts of hanging moss and leaves, you followed the practically invisible path of The Great Tree's root back to the open glen beneath its pale leaves. As you stepped off, the root shifted as though it was trying to help lower you down to the ground. That lonely feeling gripped you again once back among the supplies you'd gathered to improve upon your pitiful shelter.

The evergreen that surrounded you felt more extensive than before. Perhaps that was because of your time lost within Destiny's labyrinth, or perhaps you were simply growing accustomed to the realm you could not stop returning to. The soft, slightly damp feel of the moss beneath your feet no longer made your spine erupt with shivers. The mist no longer made you feel cold, and the eerie silence that made every shift and groan of the trees sound so loud was beginning to frighten you less.

It would be easier to ignore the questions left unanswered by the ancient being and his unhelpful riddles if you had someone to talk to. A friend to visit or simply something to help pass the time with. The longer you stared down at the pile of leaves and large sticks you felt tears sting your eyes once again.

"I don't know if you are alive..." You began in a humble whisper as you looked up at the strange half-formed markings of the tree. "I mean, I know you are alive, but if you can perhaps understand me, I would ask for your help. There must be something in this desolate place. Someone I am meant to find." The tree remained perfectly still. "If you could point or make another path for me to find this... I... I have nothing to offer but my gratitude." Still no movement.

Tears slid down your cheeks as you closed your eyes and sighed. Even if the trees could move, it did not mean they understood you. You were alone. The now familiar groaning of the forest echoed around you as the snapping twigs and shifting dirt made you open your eyes and look behind you. There the gnarled trees moved, forging a dark path in an unknown direction. Another large white root of The Great Tree slowly emerged from beneath the dirt below you, lining the way.

"Thank you," you whispered, pressing a palm to the tree root before carefully walking through the mist and beginning your journey along the dark path.

These trees were different from the others. Older, darker, and far more gnarled than the rest. The longer you walked, the darker the path grew as waves of thick mist slowly swallowed you. "Where is it?!" A desperate voice called from your left.

You stopped, turning quickly in search of the individual speaking, only to find more trees. "Think! Think!" Another echoed from behind. "Gods, you're so useless! Just think!"

"Hello?" You called out, your voice nearly lost in the echoes of multiple voices.

They did not answer you, simply continued muttering as the root shifted beneath you, rolling slightly as if to encourage you to continue forward. As you tread the path, the voices grew louder until you had to cover your ears, trying to drown them out as your feet carried you forward. Then, just as your eardrums felt on the cusp of bursting, you were pushed forward into a cloud of mist.

Light... Bright and burning light filled your vision as you stumbled, landing upon a course and shifting floor. Black sand scratched your palms, sticking to you like sap as you hurriedly stood and attempted to dust yourself off. Your white gown was dappled with black specks as you breathed in the warm air, taking in the new sights that blessed your eyes.

The black sand stretched for miles, glistening beneath the sunlight filling the cloudless sky. With a choked noise, you stared up at it in wonder. "Blue." You almost laughed to yourself. "The sky is blue."

It was beautiful beyond your imagining, every rock and cloud; you could hardly tear your eyes away from any of it. A gentle echoing sound of water churning turned your gaze toward the vast ocean that beat down against the shore. Sapphire waves tossed and rolled, washing seashells of vibrant colors up along the beach. You walked toward it, shivering with delight as the ocean waves crashed against your legs, pushing an orange shell between your feet. Bending over, you picked it from the wet sand, marveling at the smoothness of it and the perfect shape as the shell gradually turned white in your hands. Though the change in color made you frown slightly, the shell still held its beauty.

You walked away from the beach, traveling further inward toward a large mountain of some kind. As you drew closer, the shape of it became clear. Not a mountain but a gate, large and carved with beautiful shapes depicting something you couldn't quite comprehend. The material used glistened in the sunlight, looking even smoother and more perfect than the shell still in your hand. You reached forward, gently running your fingertips along it before the entire gate groaned.

With a startled gasp, you withdrew your hand as the gates appeared to start opening to you. A wave of nervousness mingled with an excited and hopeful feeling. You had asked for a being to share your stories with, someone to converse with after spending your long days in silence. Perhaps this was all you sought. The gate parted, a sliver of an opening that revealed one quick flash of gold before darkness filled it, seeping through the opening and rushing toward you in a flash.

The shadows knocked you to the ground. A dusting of golden sand burned your eyes as you fell, clutching the shell to your chest. Hazy figures took shape around you, and while none of it looked familiar, your whole body tensed, and every hair stood on end. A rush of voices echoed around you as a tall shadow loomed, a thing that felt familiar. Shaded figures slid past you, and the voices grew louder."You are lawfully bound-"

One of the shadows grabbed your arms, its grip cutting into your skin like thorns as it held you firm. Behind the shadow, fire erupted, and the others began to wail and screech, chanting as the tall shadow faltered and fell. "You will never be rid of me!" Pain exploded through your head and down each of your limbs.

A scream tore through your throat, and with a tearful blinking, it all faded, the shadows receding until the simply slightest through a vast empty plain of blue. Your heaving breaths did little to stop your rabid heartbeat as you faltered to your knees. A feeling of power, absolute and almighty, surged all around you, and a voice filled your ears. "What manner of creature are you?"

The darkness peeled away, revealing the ornate gates and a dark figure with flames licking his feet standing in front of it. Your voice faded inside your throat at the sight of him, leaving nothing, not even a breath behind. This man, no, this being, was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen. Hair as black as the midnight sky with a cloak even darker. His pale skin practically glowed in the blue hue that surrounded you, but as he turned to look at you over his delicate shoulder, his eyes pierced your very soul.

Dark glowing orbs, both beautiful and deadly, glared at you, raking almost painfully over your form. Just as you had in Destiny's garden, you felt underdressed. There. The spark of recognition hit you as you studied his face. "You are one of them," you whispered. "The Endless."

The being in front of you hardly even raised a brow as he turned fully, lips set in a thin line as he asked, voice alone foreboding and powerful, "You were attempting to sneak into my domain… What is it you intended to steal?"

Before you saw him, you felt the dark figure gliding into the empty space beside you, bathing you in the light of his ruby. "I did not think Queen Tatiana would allow those of such a lowly station to attend."

Foolishly you looked over at him, struck instantly by the glossy sheen of his leather attire. A cape of thin material blacker than any you'd ever seen was pinned to his shoulders with two silver raven brooches. His dark hair, usually unkempt, was slicked back ever so slightly, highlighting his high cheekbones and defined jawline. Even though you hated to admit it, Dream of The Endless looked handsome.

As though he could sense that thought, his lips quirked ever so slightly, breaking you from the admission and urging you to replace it with words equally as crude. "She would not. I was invited by King Auberon. Though, I have it on good authority that she invited only the most self-important and pretentious beings across the realms. I suppose your presence only confirms that."

His laugh was nearly soundless as he stared down at you, pride as obvious and ugly as Desires shining in his starry eyes. "Your attempts to insult me continue to disappoint, Burden."

The look of satisfaction that made his lips finally curve upwards at your obvious reaction to his crude name only made your anger burn hotter in your chest. "I hardly need to attempt to do that when you do it quite well all on your own."

"True," he said. "Your mere presence here insults me well enough. As I am certain, it does everyone else in attendance."

Bastard. You ground your teeth together and kept your head high. You'd not relent to him. Not here where you were a guest. Not here in a realm he did not govern. "I was invited. I hardly think they would have bothered if I was unwanted."

"You are unwanted," he sneered. The hideous words curl around you, consuming every breath of air and every word spoken outside your conversation. "Unnecessary and unwelcome wherever you go. A burden."

The Dream Lord had spoken words as venom before, so often that now you felt the weight of them sting less. Now, you stared back into his endless eyes and scoffed at him, the sound finally making the smugness vanish from his face. "You are most welcome to leave, Nightmare King. I'm quite certain the celebrations will liven with your departure."

He looked confounded for a moment. Shock and utter disbelief shimmered in his eyes, betraying the still calm of his features as they focused on your lips. "I should haunt your dreams for such insolence."

"As if you do not already," you bit back. How dare he pretend he has not already stolen that from me as well. You bowed to him, a gesture entirely mocking and insincere. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Oh Great King, I think I've wasted enough of my time bruising your fragile ego."

Before he could react, you were gone, moving through the large crowd of dancing faeries. The sea of beautiful silken wings and intricate horns parted just enough for you to slide past their large ball gowns and clutching jewels. From across the room, you could feel Queen Tatiana's eyes boring into your skull, a feeling only making you quicken your pace when suddenly a hand took yours.

You turned your head, the simple gems woven into your hair clinking together softly as your hair fell over your shoulder. Cluracan smiled, roughish and dashing, as he bowed. "Care for a dance fair maiden?"

"No, I do not," you replied coldly.

Mischief tugged at the corners of his lips as he pulled you into the sea of dancers, not caring that his own suit turned white as you stumbled into his chest. "Come now, little Lady of The Woods, let us give our royalty a dazzling display of friendship!"

"No longer the sun rising over fading storm clouds," the middle-aged woman said, raising a tender hand toward you.

"She is the storm clouds now," the oldest whispered.

The youngest, with glossy eyes, smiled as she beheld you. "Not a storm, but a fallen star. Bright and burning still, but no less lost."

You wiped your tears. "Who are you?"

Their faces filled with more sorrow as they answered your question with voices of thunder and power. "We have many names, lost one."

"The Three In One," the oldest said, pride lacing her tongue.

"The Furies," the youngest continued.

"The Kindly ones," the second proclaimed.

The youngest smiled, placing a hand on her chest. "The Maiden."

The middle-aged woman repeated the action. "The Mother."

The eldest did nothing as she stepped toward you to place a stray hair behind your ear. "The Crone."

"You may call us The Fates," The Mother said with a hint of a smile.

"For it is fate that brings you to us, is it not?" The Crone asked.

"I... I do not know," you whispered. "I did not intend to travel here. I was... Upset."

The Maiden moved about the space with a soft humming of a familiar tune. The Mother chuckled softly. "Lost you are indeed."

"You know not your true power nor how to control it," The Maiden said flippantly.

The Crone stepped away. "You will have to learn quickly."

"If you do not, you'll risk being stuck somewhere you cannot escape so easily," The Mother cautioned.

A feeling of dread filled the pit of your stomach like a blooming flower. You straightened your back and looked around you, taking in the sight of the normal looking home. "Where am I?"

The Three laughed together. "She asks such boring questions."

"And she asks them too late."

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