#AAAAAND SCENE

[gringolet]

honestly living in camelot is not that great like you guys love to romanticize it but as someone who lives here it low key sucks. the public transit system is so bad bc trains and buses dont exist yet and the rent is crazy high. “oh but the culture” what culture? the tournament scene? watching some random relative of gawain get unseated by some random relative of lancelot every three weeks is not culture its barely entertainment. and dont get me started on the tourists

#vent #personal #no hate im just so sick of squires posting about going to camelot and making their fortune #not gonna happen and dont move here #ur driving up cost of living 🙄

[shadowxamyweek]

Hey Amy, I know someone asked you earlier, but some time has passed since then. Have you gotten anything from Shadow?

[Amy wipes her hands off on her apron as she reads the letter, then pauses.] Amy: Chaos, my phone's been on silent all day. I didn't want to have to deal with the boss calling me, so I didn't even think- oh no. [Amy rushes to pick her phone up from the counter. Sure enough, there's a plethora of missed texts and calls on her screen. She ignores all of them save for one voicemail from Shadow and hits play.] Amy: I hope they're alright... [We hear shuffling and static on the recording, then a sigh.] Shadow (Via phone): Hey, it's me. I'm-... I-... [A huff, a muffled curse.] Shadow (Via phone): That was not something you should have had to contend with. I appreciate your patience. [Amy purses her lips, then smiles as she hears Shadow's chao, Rosie, cooing and babbling on the other end of the line.] Shadow (Via phone): Rosie says she misses you. [There's silence. Amy grips the phone tightly, the other hand slowly coming up to hold it as well.] Shadow (Via phone): ... Friday, two weeks from now. Keep your evening open. I'll pick up dinner from that Chun-Nan place you like, and... I'll bring Rosie. [There's a deep breath on the other end of the line.] Shadow (Via phone): ... Thank you, Amy. [The voicemail ends. Amy swallows, chewing her bottom lip as she rests both hands on her hips, fingers gripping her phone until her knuckles turn white as she shakes her head. After a moment, she gives a quiet laugh.]

[alien-girl-21]

[lonniemachin]

Detective Comics (1937) #609

'he's a straight-a student, jim. cocky -- confident -- thought he knew all the answers, had to do it his way. yet i can't help but admire him.'

'you're not thinking...?'

'no, i'm not thinking.'

'still, you can't feel guilty. if you hadn't run him in, there's no saying how many people might have ended up hurt!'

'but hurting wasn't really his thing. he only wanted to set the world straight -- and i can't find it in my heart to blame him for that.'

[unfortunate--moth]

*Pulls out sword*

Final words, father-parent? Or can I even call you that anymore? After all you've done? Do you even deserve that title?

heh... so this is the end... my reign was strong... but not strong enough... my final words? hah...

fuck my stupid baka life *dies*

[charlataninred]

anti honesty hour. what’s ur opinion on the mechanisms?

Omg they are sooo problematic. How can anyone stan them? That Jonny guy LITERALLY EATS PEOPLE HELLO? AND they glorify war and they support fascism (why else would they kill off Ulysses, they person fighting AGAINST the system??)

And that’s not even getting into the age differences in the ships the fandom likes. Sure they’re all immortal and they forever look like they’re in their 20-30s but there has to be centuries between some of them? Kinda sus

[mirror-maid]

huh- oh okay..?

Sorry, I just... I must. I have to. Thank you for having me here.

*And she quickly walks out, slipping into a mirror to find some supplies and something to clean. She has to before something bad happens.*

..... nothing will happen.... *She mutters as she finds herself in an isolated lounge.*

*But it doesn't make her feel better about it. She can't explain it. But she has to.*

*She just does.*

[iciatheguardess]

he nods a few times before passing out.

*Icia smiles.... she takes Lance's (now clean) ring off her finger and puts it on his before falling asleep as well, still holding him.*

[ceaselessbasher]

I arrive at the yarn store and grab a skein off the shelf, the exact same brand, type, weight and color of the one I bought a week ago. Everyone in the store immediately knows that I miscalculated the amount of yarn I'd need for a project. They start booing at me. They are throwing crocheted tomatoes at me. The old lady giving knitting lessons in the corner is shaking her head. She had such high hopes for me. The cashier spits at me when I pay for it.

[goldendunite]

By the time Dunite returns, he’s already out cold.

*She's dressed in her favorite white nightgown.... and a big smile as she admires Aoki and the animals asleep on the couch. She sits next to them and snuggles up, wrapping her arms around him and peacefully drifting to sleep as well.*

[finelinens1994]

essentially the main reason i'm moving on from being a fan of the dream team is because they are dangerously stupid regarding very important issues and have chosen time and time again to simply remain dangerously stupid, rather than taking the time to introspect so that they can learn and grow as people.

making mistakes, suffering consequences, and working on yourself so that you can try not to make those mistakes again, is a standard part of the human experience. but celebrity removes a person from their own humanity a bit, since they are treated both as someone who is on a higher tier of human (to be idolized and worshipped by fans) and on a lower tier of human (to perform on demand for fans). i can imagine that kind of experience would feel like being under a microscope; this could either make a person hide everything about themself so that no flaws can be seen, or show everything all the time in an attempt to get approval and validation even in the things fans would normally have no idea about in the first place. throw haters and anti-fans and stalkers into the mix, and everything gets even more complicated and layered in undoubtedly miserable ways.

i understand the dream team deeply from a fan's perspective and truly cannot blame them for the way they conduct themselves publicly and in interactions with their fans. i understand them and empathize with them and continue to hope that they have friends around them who genuinely want to see them grow as people and succeed. i understand them so i'm not really angry, just sad and disappointed. these guys have the potential to be truly wonderful, and it makes me sad to see that potential wasted over and over again. but potential doesn't just disappear, so i know they're still capable and i truly hope they allow themselves to go for it someday. i just don't want to wait for it anymore!

[beif0ngs]

C'mon heart, beat loudly again! 💓

[babybrotherism]

[estebunny]

esteban ocon in the cowboy town🤠

via alpine f1 team instagram reels

[containatrocity]

"Ah, a pleasure doing business with you, Miss Z." He chuckles, moving to take his place behind the register once more. "I'd say it was a very productive lunch, hm? Feel free to come by whenever- another meeting of the minds, as it were." He examines himself in the frame of a grand mirror propped against the adjacent wall, running fingers through messy dark hair to smooth curls back into place. He grins, as she turns to send him a wink. "I'm sure you will, darling, Don't be a stranger." The bell over the door rings as it shuts behind her- another person moving in just a few moments later.

"Ah. the fuck you want? I already told you, we're out of anything you could use to restring a guitar, so until a tour bus rolls through town and gets eaten, I've given you all I got, pal. Try trading with some of the other starving artists, would you?" Well. at least he's back to business.

Just like Mercy was making himself look perfectly polished and presentable again, Zarina was busy doing the same; viewing her reflection in a compact mirror, she ran her fingers through her hair until her waves looked more artfully dishevelled than messy, finishing off the look by quickly reapplying her lipstick. "And I'd love to stay, but I understand you have a business to run and frankly, I'm a busy girl. Things to see, people to do... You understand, yeah?" Looking up, her newly painted lips curled up into an amused smirk, clearly aware that she had deviated from how that phrase was usually said. She closed her compact with a loud snap and stepped closer. "But we should definitely have lunch together again. You've certainly... Whetted my appetite."

Pressing a quick but firm kiss to his cheek, Zarina made her way to the shop entrance before looking over her shoulder, pausing at the door to wink and blow him an extra kiss for good measure. "See you around, Mister Mercy."

[armoricaroyalty]

As the wedding planning intensified, Emily had less and less time to herself. Before she left her father's house for the prince's apartments in Blackwell Palace, she'd had nothing but time: unstructured afternoons wandering the grounds of the estate, late nights shut up in her room with her favorite TV shows and their attendant fan communities, endless aimless phone calls with Josie or with the friends she'd met online. Now, her days were taken up with unending errands. Every morning, she woke early and spent at least an hour sifting through her email inbox before someone brought her a perfunctory breakfast of toast and tea and cut-up fruit. After she ate, it was engagements and public appearances, briefings with the head of royal security, staged luncheons with the Crown Princess, and tours of royal properties which might someday be hers. All the time not spend on royal scut work was eaten up by wedding planning: dress fittings, meetings with the florists and caterers, three-way phone calls with the Queen and her mother and sundry aunties and cousins, all of whom regarded her as a living, breathing dress-up doll. She wasn't a living girl to them, just a channel through which they could express all their thwarted bridal fantasies. The only time—the only time—Emily had to herself were her stolen hours in the dance studio, and she suspected those were only permitted because 'staying trim' was an essential part of her role as bride-to-be. She lived in terror of injury, fearful every day that some Institutional busybody might use a rolled ankle as an excuse to take these small scraps of solitude away from her. She had grown bolder since her engagement to the prince, but she wasn't yet brave enough to tell anyone that she was going to start biting people if they didn't give her a little breathing room.

Previous | Chapter Start | Beginning | Next