#sad(?

[cretaceos]

MAIL BOX — the last email sent by oscar piastri.

maybe this feels off because it was supposed to be prosenna, based on an interview where alain asks senna if there could be two world champions and senna says no. only one.

[tiredlostwriter]

On getting kidnapped by your childhood monsters and growing up with them

Elwing hated the feanorians. They were the very monsters of her childhood's stories, greedy and traitors to their own kind. And for this reason, as a lot of parents tend to do when they warn their children of the monsters who might be hiding under their beds, she told her sons about the feanorians and their fiery hearts, about their bloody hands and the cruel legends of old of cities covered in ashes. 

But sometimes stories stay just that, stories, meant to scare the youngest in the warm summer evenings and letting them know how safe they are hidden his their parent's arms.

The story of the seven sons of Feanor had no such moral, it came with a warning and the acrid taste of smoke.

And so, the day the feanorians layed waste on their city, the monsters on the handwritten pages of their children books took life, and in mere hours, blood was flowing in the streets, red ink for this last chapter of peace in the twin's life.

And when the door of their small house by the sea slammed open, letting in a stranger carrying two identical swords dipped in red, and with eyes so bright they seemed to glow in the dim evening night, they froze.

It was a new kind of fear they learned then, hearing their mother cry out, a sound so shrill it was barely human. She clutched her necklace with wide eyes backing towards the window and, to the sounds of the frantic beatings of their hearts, pulsing so loudly in their ears it felt like drumming, she went through it.

Then, at least, the stranger turned back to them, his burning eyes wide and lost. And still the twins didn't dare to move.

There was little they understood other than the terrifying certitude that their mom was gone, she had left them and the screams outside had abided.

They were utterly alone if not for the looming figure, still standing in the doorframe.

"Kanno", the name came from outside in a harsh scream and made the stranger turn his head, his hair coming unbound by the mouvement and spilling on his armour like black ink.

Elros noticed first the blood trickling from the unbound braid and falling on the flooring in fat sluggish drops. But before he could share the information with his brother, a second stranger entered their home.

And with him came the tears, for they couldn't ignore anymore the certitude that had started to build in them. No elda other than the dreaded eldest son of Feanor stood so tall nor bore unruly red hair and a single left hand.

And they understood also who the first of the stranger was when he leaned against Maedhros Feanorion upon his entry into the room, as themselves leaned against each other in wariness.

They were alone, they were crying, and the bloodied twin swords now hidden in their owner's scabbard seemed like a cruel foresight.

As they gripped each other's hand thighly and fought against the shacking wracking their whole frames, the feared brothers before them lauched into a heated discussion in a language they couldn't comprehend.

Later they were collected by guards and thrown on horses, they tried hard to fight them, scratching and biting, but Feanor's eldest turned toward them and rasped out, cold as ice and as biting :

"It's us or the orcs, elflings, choose wisely", and it wasn't for the fear of orcs that the twins relented, but because they didn't wanted to discover the kind of punishment the twisted minds their mother had described could come up with.

Months passed in ever cold Himring, and to the twin's surprise, no horrible punishment had befallen them yet.

They had their own room and beds, were fed, and never did the lords who first brought them here laid their hands on them. At first they didn't saw much of them, but one day Maglor came into the room they seemingly dedicated to their education, mainly dispensed by Erestor, who although strict was always kind to them, and started the slow process of teaching them the intricacies of his songs. Later, it was a stern Maedhros who joined their daily classes when he took on himself their teaching of politics and laws as it is fit for princes to receive.

And like this, they fell into a routine of gentle teachings and patient words. Soon their shaking stopped around them, and the tears dried, even the too bright eyes of the brothers didn't scared them as much as they once did and slowly became a welcome sight in the dark stone corridors of the fortress.

Long was passed the terror of the first weeks during which they sough every hiding spots of the grim fort and learned in their panic the rythms of the footsteps of every one of its inhabitants, eager as they were to huddle to the relative safety of the space under their beds in the occasions in which they recognised the brisk pace of Maedhros's long strides, or the nearly silent whisper of Maglor's footfall on the wooden floors.

And slowly, after acceptance came affection, for the stories told by their mother were erasing into the colorful blurry of their early youth, and replaced by Maglor's lulling voice when he sang them to sleep or the reassuring presence of Maedhros in a room nearby protecting them from the shadows at night.

It's an insidious thing this affection, it's Elros inadvertently falling asleep on Maedhros' shoulder after a particularly hard sparring lesson, soon after he allowed them to try steel training swords, it's Elrond watching Maglor in wonder as he sings an injured soldier back to health.

And so, the monsters of the stories slowly became the ones protecting them from the much more real horrors of life in this time, and before they knew it, they were the ones conjured first in their mind at the mention of family, much before a distant father they had long forgotten and a mother who left them screaming with the shadow of death looming over them.

And centuries later when someone will ask Elrond about Maedhros and Maglor he won't be able to answer because fathers seems a shallow word meant for a man he didn't knew and caretakers is too small a word for what they were.

They loved them and feared them and hated them at times, and yet they were their children, feanorians themselves after such a long time in their company.

Crafters and politicians, and even when the world denied them this legacy, casting it as shameful and bloodied, never did they forgot and always they claimed it in the quiet ways the eldest sons of Feanor had shaped them by their teachings.

And so Elrond still remembers the healing lessons he took with Himring's gruff healer and the songs of Maglor taught him in the evenings to mend broken spirit as well as wounded flesh.

And so Elros until he at last relinquished the shining numenorean throne, always remembered the rasping of Maedhros' voice and the feeling of his hand on his shoulder guiding him for each political decision he took long after his owner found his death in the fiery chasm he casted himself in.

[toomany-fandomsig]

BNHA Headcanon

Headcanon: Aizawa was crying, happy and worried when Class-1A graduated and became Pro Heroes, he was so proud, so proud of his problem children. He even goes to meet them. At the end of the day, he wishes his class could be how they used to be i.e. how they used to spend time without attacks and relax but now times are different. BONUS: He is proud that they made it alive and are still alive after all these challenges. He is happy that he was their teacher.

[pandiepie35]

you know what? fuck you

*dissociates to hoziers entire discography*

[cacoxthes]

C H A R A C T E R     S T U D Y     ⇁     ( 3 / 3 )

          do you think we could go back , Mama ? 

I.     P R E G N A N C Y

to a time you loved me before you knew me ? before you knew I was blessed with your golden curls . your contagious smile . your constant sunshine on rainy days . your chromosomes : xx . 

when you had painted the name penley across my crib and wondered how handsome your boy might be, who he would be . would he like to stop and smell the flowers like you ? or would he race through life without a glance back in your direction ? was he his father’s boy in your mind ? would he be benevolent ? would he pray every day to solve world hunger ? end global warming ? create a better place ? or would he do it himself ? would he be good ? would he love you back ? would he love you back ? would he love you back ?

II.     B I R T H

to when you had accepted it ? that he would not . did you feel guilty when the doctor announced that it was me instead , and you felt a rush of relief ? or had you really wept tears because it was not penley soloman brooks ? I know you cried , but can you tell the truth this time ? 

you were not happy . there was no sunshine in that sterile , blinding hospital room . and yet , you would not let me go . who was I to you then ? a perfect daughter or a disappointing son ? and which one was worse ? father said he thought you would smother me that night . and sometimes I wonder if he was the puppet on a string , not you . he said you had been the one to fix the crib so quickly . that you had cried the afternoon you took me home , so violent that you had a nosebleed . it had nearly stained the carpet in the nursery . did you hate me ? or were you just scared ? if you were trapped in a gilded cage , why did you put me in a glass one ?

III.     Y O U T H

to those tea parties we would have in the backyard ? those naps we would have in the hammock . those games in the forest that God could not see , where we beat our chests and played boys’ games behind the veil of leaves and the brush of secrecy . I am sorry that father never knew who we were behind our blonde locks and blue eyes . that he never saw us truly happy . I think he would have understood if we told him that we didn’t want to be ladies , but women . I think he wouldn’t have drank more than you did on the weekends . I think when you both were sad that I was not a boy , we could have played make-believe under the trees’ canopy rather than make it painful to love you . 

why did you give me space in my cell ? because you wanted me to be happy in the moment , or you wanted to see me struggle in the long-run ? I did not know what sex was yet , how I was different from the boy that I gave dandelions to at recess . why did they not have to wear dresses to church , mama ? why could I not touch them , not hug my best friend or kiss my neighbor ? where was my toy cars and star wars tennis shoes ? all outside my cage . I still cannot tell if this was what you wanted , or if you would have rather me been docile and pretty . 

IV.     A D O L E S C E N C E

to when I was not sure if you stared at me with pride or contempt when I dreamed so readily ? when I sat in front of that desk to study and work . why did you go silent after you opened the door and saw me there ? how many times did you do it : hesitated before you said that dinner was ready . we both knew I was not blessed with father’s brain . but were you really as dumb as you seemed after a few drinks , or as you acted when we had company over ? for awhile I had wondered if you just avoided thinking too much , focusing too hard like me , because you had to fight through a splintering headache to learn anything . ( but you were brilliant . why did I ever think you were stupid ? why would you let your own daughter belittle you when you could name every star in the sky and explain physics as easily as you sang me to sleep ? ) 

were you jealous ? did you want to take that desk and chop it to pieces ? burn all of my hard work ? see me fail after I worked so hard ? or were you sad ? that I would turn away from your touch and yet , still be subject to dropping my education for a life that neither of us wanted . we were all confused , especially father . how could I play the part of a lady everywhere else but at home ? why did I care about grades when there was a boy next door who had treated me right my whole life ? 

how many times had you applied to flow’s for me ? how many times did I have to say no ? why did you try to hold me back ? you of all people . you knew what you did , because you would make breakfasts the morning after . throwing away wrappers as you went along . you knew that it had not been you crying until blood dripped from your nose , so did you ever hesitate looking at the tissues piled in the trash ? or did you bury the evidence of my sorrow under burnt bacon and eggshells like you did with yours ? 

V.     A D U L T H O O D

to a time where things were better ? to when I had not graduated and didn’t work a job unfit for a lady . to when you did not hate me . to when you thought that I was the perfect daughter . to when we giggled in the woods , slept under the stars , dreamt of something better . to when we used to sip melted popsicles in fancy tea cups , or stare at each other after you opened the door . to when you were not a stranger . to when I thought I knew you . to when you loved me back . to when you loved me back . to when you loved me back .

why can’t you say that you’re proud of me ? that I did it , I passed the test . that what I have done can only prove that I am your daughter . I wish you would hold me , mama . or just recognize that I am still here . I am not dead . you shouldn’t mourn like you are . I can still recognize it’s you when you pass on the street , even with your brown hair and black clothes . even if you don’t answer the phone , I can hear your voice . are you ashamed ? that you could make something so sinful ? you don’t even know the half of it and you hate me . and i’m sorry .

[toomany-fandomsig]

Obey Me Headcanon

Headcanon: Satan has low self-esteem because he is created from Lucifer's rage and probably no one wanted him. He was never an angel he is just Lucifer's rage but personified.

[elcucomuerto]