#I need to make my grandma her curtains

[tj-crochets]

Crafting update: -I have abruptly realized I probably should have already started holiday crafting but am ignoring that for now lol - three rows completely sewn together out of fourteen for the new rainbow triangle quilt! One row sewn into a row but it needs one more round of ironing before I sew it to the quilt top. Ten rows to go - I have three coworker's babies (or grandbabies) to make blankets for! I think I'll just go for simple flannel blankets instead of quilts so I can get them all done quickly, but baby blankets!!! :D - I need to mail stuff and if I promised to mail you something recently I swear I still will. I have a pile of packages to mail forming, the local post office just has very restricted hours and the asthma flareup has made leaving the house into a high-spoons activity. So, this weekend? Or early next week at the earliest - oh no oh no holiday crafting

[anoddrock]

Remembering stuff SUCKS like can I go back. I don’t want to get your stupid ‘memory unlocked’ achievement. Put it back

[mangionebabymama]

“ordinary things” - Luigi Mangione

“No matter what we do, there’s never gonna be an ordinary thing” - “ordinary things” by Ariana Grande

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, fluff and, surprisingly, Luigi drinks coffee here and listens and doesn’t judge

A/N: Inspired by this ask. I already considered writing something based off this song, but it gave me the sign of confirmation. Anon, ily for reading my mind and matching my yearning, this is for you 🤎

The soft morning light streamed gently through the sheer curtains, enveloping the snug apartment in a warm, golden hue that danced across the walls. You luxuriated beneath the soft cotton sheets, savoring the still surroundings of the room. Next to you, Luigi lay in peaceful slumber, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his arm draped protectively over your waist. The warmth emanating from his body against your skin fostered a sense of closeness that rendered the outside world distant and unimportant. A gentle smile spread across your face as you absorbed the serene moment—sunlight sparkling on the small potted plant by the window and the faint, lingering chirps of birds singing outside. In that treasured instant, you recognized this as the truest form of happiness—a quiet, shared morning that felt like a cherished secret between the two of you.

“You’re up early,” Luigi's voice, filled with sleepiness, came out as a soft whisper. He nestled against your neck; his breath warmed your skin.

“Mmm,” you hummed, turning to face him. His brown eyes, though half-lidded, sparkled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “I just couldn’t sleep anymore… too much on my mind.”

He raised an eyebrow, a casual smile playing on his lips. “Like what?”

You paused for a moment, recalling memories of your grandmother as they drifted through your thoughts. “Just… the little things my grandma used to share about love and life. They just came to my memory, out of nowhere, and I haven't stopped thinking about them. She always used to tell me, ‘True love isn’t about the grand gestures. It’s in the ordinary moments, the ones you’ll miss when they’re gone.’”

Luigi’s smile grew even brighter as he propped himself up on one elbow, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face with his free hand. “Sounds like a wise woman.”

“She was,” you articulated, experiencing a bittersweet ache that gripped your heart. “She’d tell me stories about my grandpa, how he used to make her laugh by dancing around the kitchen in his socks. Or how he’d wake up early just to make her coffee before she left for work. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it meant everything to her.”

Luigi’s fingers made gentle circles on your arm, his touch causing a shiver to run down your spine. “So, what are you saying? I need to start dancing in my socks?”

You playfully swatted his chest, sharing a delightful laugh together. “No, dummy. I’m just saying… I love this. Us. The little things. Like how you always leave your shoes by the door or make me tea when I’m stressed. It’s… enough. More than enough.”

His face melted into love as he drew closer, his lips softly grazing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that conveyed a world of tenderness.“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You could feel a warm flush spreading to your cheeks as you nestled your face into his chest, seeking comfort from the shyness that made you blush. “Stop.”

Luigi chuckled, the sound resonating through his chest and into you. “I mean it. You’re not like other people. You don’t care about the big, flashy stuff. Not only that, but you see the beauty in the ordinary. And… I love that about you.”

You raised your head to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you,” you said.

“And I love you,” he said, his voice brimming with sincerity that took your breath away, a true reflection of the depth of his feelings.

You found yourself remaining in that position for quite a while, your bodies beautifully tangled together while your breaths naturally synced in the wake of the morning. It was precisely these types of moments that you treasured the most—the pure simplicity of it all. His hand fit snugly in yours, his laughter filled the surrounding space, and how he admired you made you feel like you were the only person who mattered in the entire world.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go for a walk. Just the two of us. No phones, no distractions. Just… us.”

You smiled, warmth blossoming within your chest. “I’d like that.”

You hurriedly dressed in your comfy clothes, slipping out the door with a sense of excitement. The morning air was refreshingly cool and crisp, and the streets were peacefully quiet and unbothered, remaining in solitude with the world just starting to wake up. Luigi gently took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked together.

“So,” He eventually remarked, stealing a glance your way with a playful grin. “What’s your favorite ordinary thing about us?”

You thought for a moment, your heart swelling in feeling. “Hmm… I think it’s the way you always know when I need you. Like, when I’m upset, you don’t even have to ask. You… show up. And it’s like everything’s okay again.”

Luigi’s grin softened as he squeezed your hand. “That’s not ordinary. That’s just me loving you.”

Your cheeks reddened, and you looked fixedly at your clasped hands, your heart racing in your chest. “See? That’s what I mean. You always know just what to say.”

He paused in his steps, turning to look at you. His eyes held a deep intensity, and the seriousness in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “I mean it, you know. I’d do anything for you. And it’s not because I have to. It’s because I want to. Because you’re… everything to me.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you gently cupped his face in your hands. “You’re everything to me, too, Lu. More than you’ll ever know.”

As he leaned in, his lips brushed against yours in a sweet and passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss that left you feeling weak in the knees, making you forget everything else around you. When he finally pulled away, you found yourself breathless, your heart buzzing with excitement.

“I think,” you spoke gently, your voice trembling, “that this is my favorite ordinary thing about us.”

Luigi smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Mine too.”

You kept walking, hands still interlocked, feeling your hearts beating in perfect harmony. While meandering through the quiet streets, thoughts of your grandmother filled your mind once more. Her words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the beauty in the ordinary.

It’s in the ordinary moments that you’ll miss when they’re gone.

As you looked at Luigi, the man who brought you so much happiness, it occurred to you that she was right. Love isn’t discovered through grand gestures or lavish displays; instead, it lives in the little moments. The way he held your hand, looked into your eyes, and made you feel like the most significant person in the world.

This, right here, is one of those ordinary moments.

Turning the corner, you spotted a small café, its windows radiating a warm glow that beautifully contrasted with the chilly morning air. The gentle flicker of candlelight within hinted at a cozy ambiance, while the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods drifted out through the open door, beckoning you to enter and enjoy the atmosphere. Luigi spotted it, too, and flashed you a grin. "How about we grab a coffee together?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of endearment. “I’d love that.”

As you entered the café, the soft chime of the bell above the door welcomed you. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as the barista acknowledged your arrival warmly.

“What’ll it be?” Luigi asked, turning to you.

“A cappuccino,” you said, returning his smile. “And… you.”

His smile grew even bigger as he leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against yours in a sweet, quick kiss. “Coming right up.”

While waiting for your coffee, you reflected on how fortunate you were and expressed gratitude for this life and this love. Though not perfect, they belonged to you. In those everyday moments, you discovered, for once and for all, what truly meaningful happiness was and what it meant.

As your coffee was freshly brewed, you settled at a cozy table by the window, where the warm morning sunlight poured in, brightening up the space. Luigi gently reached over, his hand resting on yours, creating a feeling of comfort as you both enjoyed your coffee together in silence.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft after a while, “I hope we can have a love like your grandparents did. I want to experience something like that with you.”

You felt your heart swell, brushing your thumb over his cheek, just over where one of his angelic moles rested. “I want a love like that, too.”

You realized this was it as you sat there with your hands intertwined and your hearts beating in sync. This was the kind of love your grandmother had always talked about—the kind of love found in ordinary moments, the ones that would stay with you forever. And, at that exact instant, as you gazed at Luigi, the man who had so completely stolen your heart, you realized that you had discovered your true contentment. In the simple moments, in the quiet mornings, in the warmth of his touch, you had found your forever.

“I love you,” you uttered softly, your voice nearly lost in the air.

Luigi smiled, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “I love you.”

As sunlight streamed through the window and the world outside stirred to life, you realized you had all you needed. In the mundane, you discovered the remarkable. In the ordinary, you found the extraordinary.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

End Game 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, stalking, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Your gaming buddy asks to meet up but it doesn’t go exactly as planned.

Characters: Andy Barber

Note: I'm a sleepy babay.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

There’s a finality to the tap of your thumb. You hold the block button for a moment before you let it go. The window pops up asking if you’re sure. Yes. Certain. This is just a mistake and when you’re older and wiser, you’ll be thankful you made it. If you even remember it. 

You lay back and put your phone down. Done. Over. No more Jacob. No Andy.  

Maybe you’ll go back and see Kara again, or she can come here, even if she hates this town. You can at least be thankful that it reconnected you two, and you have to be grateful to learn a hard lesson. Don’t mess with strangers online. You’re better off alone. 

You close your eyes. You’re exhausted. Mentally, emotionally, and yes, physically. Who knew scooping ice cream could be so much work? 

When you wake up, you’re sore and still groggy. The sun peers in at you brightly in the slat between the curtains. You groan and hide under the pillow. Your shift starts at noon. You can’t spend all morning doing nothing or the whole day is wasted. 

You drag yourself out of bed. Your grandma is still asleep. You’re sure she was up until dawn with her latest haul from the used book store. You clean up the cluster of wrappers around her chair and tidy up the kitchen, dumping the old coffee and brewing a new pot. 

You go to grab your phone and pause as you see an unusual notification. Your email? Huh. You don’t really use that besides for school. You open it up, thinking it might be about enrolment. No. It’s him. Andy. Holy moly. 

You scroll up and down, skimming the blocks of text. Oh god. You hit delete. You’re not reading all that. You said what needed to be said. 

You have your coffee and load the machine for whenever your mother gets out of bed. You eat and wash up, catching up on some Youtube before you make yourself get your uniform on. You head out, walking to work to enjoy the sunshine, and key in between tying on your apron and chatting with Gavin, the high schooler who does half-shifts every now and then.  

He leaves at four and you have your complimentary cone just after five. Peanut butter chocolate; classic. You eat at the window as you watch the mostly empty street. Your phone vibrates and you slide it out, hoping to take advantage of the lull. 

WhatsApp request? No way. The shammy recruiters always want a piece of you. At least you never fell for that. 

You bite into the cone and your phone suddenly blows up with Insta notifications. Bots! Ugh. So annoying. Every new follower is faceless with some generated name. You mute the notifications and put your cell away. You really are a boring person. 

As you look up, tires crush over a patch of gravel and your barely catch a glimpse of the car as it rolls just around the corner. You feel like you’ve missed something. Maybe your grandma is right about you always having your nose buried in a screen. Who is she to talk? She lives in her novels. 

Your shift ends at eight. You lock up and stop by the convenience store down the block. Nothing special, just a tray of carbonara you can shove in the nuke. As you pay at the counter, the door chimes to signal another customer. You accept your meagre meal as the other patron strides into the aisle. You don’t look over as you go directly for the door. You’re starving for more than a scoop. 

Your footsteps seem to echo through the dull streets. The frozen meal makes your hand hurt as your other holds your cell phone close. You text Kara as you finally get through the essay she wrote about Calvin’s latest antics. You wish you could convince her to play something. You feel aimless without an analog stick under your thumb. 

There’s a scuff, close behind you, loud enough to make you jump. You fumble with your phone and glance over your shoulder. You don’t see anything but the thick oak outside Luella’s. Ugh. Alright, you need to eat and lay down. It hasn’t been a busy day but still a long one. 

You pass through your grandma’s front door. She’s where she always is, in her chair, but something’s off. Something’s different. The smell of pollen hangs in the air and a pot stands on the coffee table with several white orchids tall in the soil. You frown. The last time you got her flowers, she didn’t even put them in a vase. 

“Oh, those are pretty,” you say. 

“Mph, not mine,” she grumbles, not looking up. 

“Not... who’s...” 

“Delivery man said your name. I didn’t read the card. I’m not a snoop.” 

You nod, thankful at least that she isn’t nosy. You go to the table and examine the pot. Who would send you flowers? 

You take the card off the tall pronged stick and open the envelope. You slide out the paper and unfold it. 

‘I know I’ve told you a million times, so I’ll show you how sorry I am instead. Yours always, Andy.’ 

You nearly drop your handful. Your eyes flick up to the pot and you have to stop yourself from pushing it off the table. What the hell? How... how does he know where you live? You never even mentioned what town you’re from. He only knows your college and it’s so small, he wouldn’t have heard of it. 

It’s enough to unsettle you. That he knows where you live is bad enough but the flowers themselves make a point. It’s not over. He’s not walking away but what else can you say to make him? Didn’t he get it? You think were pretty nice considering. 

“You got some boy?” Your grandma raises her eyes from the page. You can’t remember the last time she even bothered looking at you. 

“Not exactly,” you tuck the card away and put it in your pocket. “I’m going to make my dinner.” 

“Eh,” she grumbles, “fine. Get them flowers somewhere else. They stink.” 

You lift the vase, hugging it around the pot, and carry it from the room. You balance it against your hip and go into the kitchen. You use your free hand to pull open the freezer and put the pasta inside. You’re not so hungry anymore. 

🎮

The irises are pretty. The pot they came in is fancy, probably expensive. It underlines once more the gap between you and the real Jacob. Between you and Andy.

It only reminds you of how ridiculous you must have sounded. So, you just can’t understand why he’s doing this? Why is he still trying? For you? A girl with dwindling hopes of even finishing her low-tier college degree. 

You try to forget. You don’t have a shift that day but you can’t just sit around. Usually, you would. You’d hole up in your bedroom and play video games. Not anymore. He ruined that. You’re disappointed you’re letting him. 

You got down to the library for a while and wander around. There’s nothing there you’re very interested in. They still haven’t got the latest release in the series you’d read in high school. Oh well, you’ll wait around until one day you learn the fate of those revolutionary spies. 

You walk the main strip of the town. It isn’t very extensive. There’s a coffee shop and the used bookstore which also carries hobby supplies. There’s the same diner that’s been there since you were a kid and the interchangeable business that open and close year after year. 

There’s a vibe in your pocket. It’s not Kara. Another WhatsApp request, more Insta bots, and Discord. You haven’t been on the server in ages. You couldn’t keep up with all the channels and most of it was arguing about mining strategies. 

It’s Andy. Frig. You should’ve blocked him there too. You just hadn’t thought of it. 

‘Did you like the flowers?’ 

You don’t answer but he’ll see that you read it. It isn’t long before he’s typing. 

‘I am still very sorry. I wish you’d talk to me. Hear me out.’ 

Hear him out? He said everything. His son is dead and he lied to you. That’s not anything you can hash out. 

‘I know you’re not working today. I’ll make a new world and we can chat there.’ 

No. That’s not going to happen. Over. O-V-E-R. It’s done. You’re not going to be like Kara. When you cut the cord, it’s snipped. 

You won’t answer. That’s just bait. He’ll keep nibbling if you do that. You press the chat settings and block. That’s better, you can’t breathe. 

You put your phone on silent and back in your pocket. You wish you had the money to try the sushi place. It won’t last long in the bodunk town so you probably won’t ever get to. Oh well. Back on campus, they sell decent California rolls at the cafeteria. Decent, not necessarily good. 

You go home. To your grandma’s house. It doesn’t always feel like home. You know she’s counting the days until you leave. You are too. 

You wish you were brave enough to apologise. To say sorry your mom and dad didn’t want you. That she got stuck with you. It feels like saying it out loud would be worse. Just wallow in the unspoken resent, one day you won’t ever come back and maybe then you can both be happy. 

In your room, you don’t know what to do with yourself. Your Switch taunts you from across the room. You want to mine or race or even scare yourself with some Hellblade. You can’t. More Youtube. More wasted time. That’s what people like you do; people from small towns with no one who loves them and no money; waste time. 

The mindless videos help you relax but not forget. You just can’t get rid of the little tickle at the back of your head. There’s a tinge of shame that remains and a sliver of guilt. It will go. It has to, one day. 

You catch yourself staring at the orchid. You can smell it. You want to throw it away but that feels rude. Even if Andy would never know, even if you shouldn’t care. He hurt you, didn’t he? He lied. Well, you could give it to Mahalia next door, she loves flowers. 

You lay in indecision. You don’t want to do anything but lay there. Now that you’re still, you have no strength. Your day off is chipped away in your laziness.  

The next day awaits you with another shift at the booth. And the day after and the day after. 

Your fourth day in a row and you get a new Discord message. You know even before you open it, even by the blank avatar and nondescript username. It’s him. Just leave me alone. Let it go. Let me forget. 

‘I know you don’t want to hear from me but I need you to hear me. I can’t stop thinking of you and what happened. I can do better. Please, let me apologise.’ 

Blocked. Again.

Work. Again.  

You’re half asleep as you fill cones with soft serve. You smile and swallow yawns, faking it for the hyper children and cheerful couples. 

When it slows, you work on cleaning the freezer, switching out empty containers with ones from the deep freeze. As you check the soft serve, there’s a tap on the open walk-up window. Oh shoot. You should’ve been paying better attention. 

You turn back to greet the next customer but as you approach the window, your chest deflates. Frozen, like the tubs around you. You stare at Andy as he smiles at you. He wears a short-sleeve button up with blue, grey, and white stripes. His hair blows in the soft breeze. 

“Do you have butterscotch ripple?” He asks brightly. 

You blink and hesitate. You don’t know what to do. How did he get here? How did he find you? Why is he here? 

You reach for the window and before he can stop you, you shut it. You lock it from the inside and step back. His face falls and his brow arches as he stands straight. He says your name, his voice muffled by the glass, and puts his palm to the barrier. 

“Please,” he begs. 

You shake your head and turn your back to him. If your manager was here, you’d be in shit. That’s a no-no. Never turn away a customer, only shut the window when you lock up. 

You ignore him and go back to tidying. There could be a line up out there but you don’t care. Your hands are shaking and it’s not just the temperature.

You just can’t believe he’s there. You can’t believe he won’t just give up. You don’t want to believe it because you’re afraid. You’re terrified and he seems entirely clueless about how scary he’s being. 

Flowers are one thing but showing up at your job? That’s a flaming red flag that even you can see. Not only because you told him plainly that you don’t want to talk to him again, but because he’s a grown man. Fortysomething and he can’t take a hint. Why would a man his age want to talk to someone as young as you? That’s another red flag on its own. As if catfishing you wasn’t enough. 

[oliviaglumac]

Dress shopping

Paring : John Lennon x reader

Requested : no

Genre : fluff

The excitement was supposed to be in the air as you stepped into the bridal boutique, the soft, romantic music playing in the background, the delicate fabrics and lace surrounding you. You were about to try on wedding dresses, the first step to your new life with John. It was supposed to be perfect, a day of joy, and a step closer to your dream.

But it didn’t feel that way.

Your bridal party—your closest friends, the people you trusted most—had been making offhand remarks and not-so-subtle comments ever since you stepped through the door.

“Oh, that one’s a bit too…old-fashioned for my taste,” one of your bridesmaids said, her tone dripping with distaste as you held up a vintage lace gown. “I mean, you’re not a grandma, are you?”

You forced a smile, trying to brush it off, but the words stung.

Another one, who had been quiet up until now, chimed in. “I don’t know. The skirt looks a bit…too big. You’re going to look like you’re drowning in it.”

You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, the excitement draining from your veins as you glanced at yourself in the mirror. The dress wasn’t perfect, but you’d thought it was beautiful, the kind of gown you’d pictured yourself wearing when you’d imagined your wedding.

But with each comment, your confidence chipped away, and before long, the excitement turned to dread.

As you stepped into the changing room to try on another dress, you fought back the tears that were threatening to spill. You could hear the laughter and the backhanded comments from the other side of the curtain, and it made your stomach turn. You had been so excited about this moment, but now it felt like a mockery.

It was then that you couldn’t hold it in anymore. You asked the front desk to use their phone to call John.

“It’s y/n” you said as he picked up, “hello,love” he said his voice warm and comforting, just what you needed.

“I… I can’t do this,” you whispered, a sob escaping before you could stop it. “They’re… they’re being so rude. I don’t know what to do. I just… I can’t.”

John was silent for a moment, but then you heard the unmistakable sound of him standing up. “Where are you? I’m on my way, love. Stay right there, okay? I’ll be there soon.”

John arrived at the boutique in record time. When he walked in, the sound of the door opening seemed to drown out all the noise in the room. The bridal party stopped talking as they saw him approach, and you could hear the slight tension in the air.

You were still in the changing room, the door cracked open, your face buried in your hands.

Without a word, John walked toward you, his calm, steady presence grounding you. You barely noticed him until he opened the door and stepped inside, a concerned look on his face as he saw your tear-streaked cheeks.

“Hey, love,” he said softly, sitting beside you and gently pulling you into his arms. “What’s wrong?”

“I just… I thought this would be fun. I thought they’d be excited, but all they’ve done is criticize everything I’ve tried on. And I just don’t know what to do,” you confessed, burying your face in his chest.

John’s hands rested on your back, soothing you as he kissed the top of your head. “You don’t need their approval, sweetheart. This is about you. You’re the one who’s going to be walking down that aisle, not them.”

“But I want them to be happy. I want this to be perfect for everyone,” you said, your voice shaky.

John pulled back just enough to lift your chin, so your eyes met his. “You’re perfect. This day is about you and me, about starting our lives together. It doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks.”

He gave you a reassuring smile, brushing away a stray tear. “Let me handle this, yeah?”

Without waiting for a response, John stood up, walked toward the curtain that separated you from the others, and threw it open, his presence commanding the room.

“You’ve said your piece,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Now, you’re going to leave. This is supposed to be a special day for her, and all you’ve done is make her feel small.”

Your bridesmaids all looked stunned, but no one said anything at first.

“I don’t want anyone making my girl feel like this again. So, take your things and go,” John added, his eyes piercing through the silence.

Slowly, your bridal party filed out of the store, looking unsure of how to handle the situation. John came back to you immediately after, crouching in front of you again and offering a soft smile.

“Let’s pick your dress, love. Just us. What do you say?”

You blinked back more tears but nodded, grateful for John’s unwavering support.

After a few minutes, you stepped back into the changing room, now at ease with John by your side. The two of you sifted through the dresses, no longer worried about opinions. John helped you find one that made your heart flutter—a sleek, elegant gown with a simple but stunning silhouette. When you put it on and stepped out, John’s eyes lit up, and his smile was brighter than ever.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice full of awe. “You look absolutely perfect. It’s the one, love. I can already picture you walking down that aisle to me.”

You smiled through your tears, finally feeling that rush of excitement again. This moment, this dress, was just for you and John, and it was everything.

“Thank you,” you whispered, your heart full.

“I’m always going to be here for you, love. You deserve to feel beautiful, and you are. Always,” he said, his hand gently resting over your heart.

And with that, you knew everything would be alright.

[kathlare]

fractured mornings

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: Lando wakes up to find Amelie in distress after receiving heartbreaking news about her grandmother’s health. As Amelie prepares to leave for the hospital, Lando steps in to support her, making sure she stays grounded during a frantic moment.

Wordcount: 2.4 k

Warnings: none

full masterlist // request over here!

January 18th, 2025 - Lapland, Finland

The soft glow of dawn seeped into the room through the gaps in the heavy curtains, painting streaks of faint gold on the walls. Lando stirred awake, the cozy warmth of the hotel duvet cocooning him. His arm instinctively reached out across the bed, searching for Amelie, but instead of finding her, his hand landed on an empty, rumpled sheet. He blinked groggily, propping himself up on his elbow.

At first, he thought she might just be in the bathroom, but then he heard it—a muffled sob, sharp and raw, breaking through the stillness of the room. Alarmed, Lando sat up fully, his heart pounding. His eyes adjusted to the dim light, and he turned to see Amelie standing by the closet, a suitcase open on the floor, her hands frantically tossing clothes into it. Her movements were rushed, almost frantic, and her shoulders shook as tears streamed down her face.

—Ames?— Lando’s voice was thick with sleep and concern as he swung his legs off the bed. She didn’t answer him, her hands trembling as she shoved more clothes into the suitcase without folding them. —Amelie, what’s going on? Talk to me.—

Still no response. Her sniffles grew louder, and she let out a shaky exhale, her head shaking as though she was trying to hold herself together. Lando stood and crossed the room quickly, his bare feet silent against the floor. He reached out, grabbing her wrist gently to stop her. —Hey, hey. Stop for a second. Look at me.—

Amelie froze, her back still to him, but she didn’t pull away. Slowly, Lando stepped around to face her, his chest tightening at the sight of her tear-streaked face. Her lip quivered as she met his gaze, her eyes filled with a mix of panic and heartbreak.

—What happened?— Lando asked softly, his voice steady despite the growing worry gnawing at him.

Amelie’s breath hitched as she tried to speak, but the words caught in her throat. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fresh tears spilling over as she finally managed to whisper, —It’s my grandma. Julie. She’s in the hospital.—

Lando’s heart sank. He knew about Amelie’s grandmother—how much she meant to her, how close they were. Julie had been diagnosed with cancer a few months ago, and though Amelie rarely spoke about it, Lando could tell how much it weighed on her.

He gently pulled her into his arms, cradling her against his chest. She melted into him, her sobs muffled against his hoodie as her hands clutched at the fabric. —I just got off the phone with my mom,— she choked out. —She said... she said it’s bad. They don’t know if she’s going to...— Her voice broke, and Lando held her tighter.

—I’m so sorry, love,— he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. —I’m so, so sorry.—

They stood there for a long moment, Lando’s arms wrapped securely around her as she cried. He whispered soothing words, his hand running up and down her back, trying to anchor her in the storm of emotions.

Eventually, Amelie pulled back slightly, wiping at her face with trembling hands. —I need to go home. I need to be there. I can’t just stay here while she’s in the hospital.—

—Of course. Whatever you need, we’ll make it happen,— Lando said without hesitation. He watched as she turned back to her suitcase, her movements still rushed and uncoordinated.

—Ames, slow down for a second, okay? Let’s take a breath, yeah?— Lando’s voice was soft but firm as he gently guided her hands away from the chaos of her open suitcase. She looked up at him, her eyes red and swollen from crying, and he could see the panic in them, the overwhelming need to do something, anything, to get to her grandma.

She shook her head, her lip trembling. —I just... I just need to get there. I need to see her. I don’t know how much time I have.—

Lando’s heart ached for her. He hated seeing her like this, so out of control and broken. He stepped closer, his hands resting on her shoulders as he looked into her eyes. —I know, baby. I know. But you’re not doing yourself any favors by rushing. Let me help you, okay? Let me make sure we get everything sorted so you can focus on getting there, no distractions.—

Amelie sniffled, still shaking, but nodded faintly. She stepped back, letting Lando take control of the situation.

—Let me call Max. I’ll get us to the airport as fast as possible. You don’t need to worry about anything here. You just get your stuff ready, and we’ll handle the rest, alright?— He spoke calmly, trying to calm her in the midst of her frantic state.

She wiped her eyes again, her face a mask of exhaustion and sorrow. —Lan, you don’t have to—

—I want to, Ames. I’m not letting you go through this alone, okay? You’re my priority right now. I’ll make sure you get to the airport, I promise.— His tone was final, and Amelie could see the determination in his eyes. She took a deep breath, nodding as she tried to compose herself.

Lando kissed her forehead softly, brushing his fingers through her hair. —I’m going to go wake Max, okay? You just breathe for a second. You’ll get there, I’ll make sure of it.—

Lando moved swiftly out of the room, his mind focused on getting Amelie to the airport as quickly as possible. He needed Max, and he needed him now.

He made his way to the next room, knocking once before pushing the door open. The faint light spilling through the curtains illuminated Max’s tangled sheets and the groggy face he made when he saw Lando standing there.

—What the hell, Lando? It’s barely light outside—Max grumbled, rubbing his eyes and glancing at the clock. —It’s like five in the morning, mate. What’s going on?—

Lando stepped inside, his face tense. —Max, I need your help. Amelie’s grandmother's in the hospital. It’s bad, and she’s freaking out. I need you to come with me to drive her to the airport.—

Max's expression shifted from annoyance to concern in an instant. —Shit. That’s... that’s rough. Yeah, alright. Let me grab my shoes. I’ll be ready in a minute.—

Lando nodded, walking out of the room as Max scrambled to pull himself together. He could hear the muffled sound of Max muttering about waking up early, but Lando didn’t pay it much attention. He had bigger things to focus on.

Returning to the room, Lando found Amelie, now sitting on the edge of the bed, her hands trembling as she tried to zip up her suitcase. She had calmed down a little, but there was still a certain frantic energy in her movements.

Lando knelt in front of her, his hands gently grasping hers to stop her from continuing. He gave her a soft, reassuring smile, trying to ground her with his presence. —Max is getting ready. We’ll head to the airport in a few minutes. It’s going to be okay, Ames. We’ll make sure you get there. You don’t have to do this alone.—

Amelie’s lip trembled again, and she closed her eyes, trying to keep herself together. She shook her head. —I should’ve been there already, Lan. I shouldn’t be here... it just feels wrong, you know?— Her voice cracked, and she buried her face in her hands, giving in to the weight of it all.

Lando wrapped his arms around her again, holding her tight, as she let the tears fall once more. He kissed the top of her head, murmuring softly to comfort her. —Ames, you’re doing everything you can. You’re going to be there for her, and that’s what matters. You’ll get there, I promise you.—

She sniffled, nodding but still looking unsure. Lando felt a surge of protectiveness and warmth, knowing how deeply Amelie cared for her family. He would do anything to ease her pain right now.

Just then, Max appeared in the doorway, already dressed and looking more awake than before. Lando stood up, offering Amelie a hand to help her rise from the bed.

—Ready?— Lando asked softly, and she gave a small, shaky nod.

As Lando drove, the silence in the car was heavy. The only sound was the hum of the engine and the occasional sniffle from Amelie, who had her arms wrapped tightly around herself in the passenger seat. Lando’s hand rested lightly on her thigh, his fingers tracing idle patterns on her soft skin as he drove with his other hand. His touch was meant to comfort, though it could hardly reach the depths of her pain.

Lando's grip on the steering wheel tightened with each passing mile, the road stretching out in front of them like a never-ending line of uncertainty. He couldn’t begin to imagine the weight Amelie felt, the anxiety and heartbreak that had taken hold of her, but he could feel her pain in the tense silence between them. She sat curled up in the seat, her gaze out the window, her tears no longer flowing but the sorrow still radiating from her every breath. Every so often, he would glance over at her, his heart aching at the way she looked so small in the passenger seat, like everything that had once been vibrant about her had faded just a little in the face of this overwhelming news.

Max sat quietly in the back, his face expressionless, but Lando knew he was aware of the gravity of the situation. He could feel the sympathy in Max's silence, and that was enough. It wasn't the time for words. Lando didn’t know what to say either. What could he say? Sometimes, silence was the only thing that made sense.

The drive to the airport seemed to stretch on forever, but Lando didn’t mind the quiet. He was there for her in the only way he knew how—by simply being present. His fingers kept moving gently over Amelie’s thigh, tracing patterns that, in his mind, felt like the faintest thread connecting them in this moment of emotional turbulence. It wasn’t much, but it was something. A way to offer comfort when words fell short.

Amelie didn't look at him, but she didn't pull away either. Her eyes remained locked on the road ahead, but every now and then, she would let out a quiet, shuddering breath, the tears still lingering beneath her composed exterior. Lando's heart twisted, knowing how much she wanted to be strong, to be the woman everyone knew her to be. But right now, she was vulnerable, raw, and he didn’t care how much he had to sacrifice to make sure she knew she wasn’t alone.

When they finally reached the airport, the sky had lightened, the faint blue of early morning beginning to take over the horizon. Lando pulled into the drop-off lane, his mind racing with the thought of what she was about to face. He turned off the engine, the car idling as the sound of distant chatter and the hum of the airport filled the air.

Max was the first to speak. —You good, Amelie? You need us to walk you in?—

Amelie finally turned to look at them, her eyes still red and puffy but her face set in that determined way Lando knew so well. The way she wore her strength like armor, even when the inside of her world was crumbling. —No, I’ll be okay. Thanks for coming, both of you.—

Lando’s eyes followed Amelie as she stepped out of the car, her movements slow and deliberate, though there was an unmistakable tension in the way she carried herself. Her hand trembled slightly as she reached for the door handle, and Lando’s heart clenched again.

Max stayed silent in the backseat, giving them the space they needed. Lando didn’t look back, keeping his focus on Amelie. He knew this was hard, but he also knew she was stronger than she realized.

Lando quickly moved to the trunk, retrieving her suitcase with ease. The weight of it seemed insignificant compared to the weight of the situation. As he closed the trunk with a soft click, he turned to find Amelie standing at the edge of the curb, her eyes lost in the distance. He walked up beside her, slipping his hand into hers without a second thought. She didn’t pull away, but the sadness in her eyes didn’t lessen. She was hurting, and there was nothing he could say to fix it.

They walked side by side toward the entrance of the airport, the sound of their footsteps almost muffled by the bustling crowd around them. The morning sun was now fully up, but the light felt cold and distant, just like everything else at that moment.

Lando’s grip tightened around her hand. He could feel her pulse, the beat of her heart in sync with his, and it grounded him. This was a goodbye, even if just for a short while, and he didn’t want to let go.

As they approached the sliding doors of the airport, Amelie paused for a moment. Her eyes met his, and for a heartbeat, everything else seemed to fade into the background. The world around them quieted, and it was just the two of them.

Lando and Amelie stood there for a moment, the world around them fading into a blur. His heart pounded in his chest as he gazed into her eyes, taking in the raw vulnerability there. Everything between them felt so real in this moment, and it hurt to think that it might be the last time they'd see each other for a while.

Amelie took a shallow breath, as if trying to gather her strength. Her eyes were still red, but there was a quiet determination in her gaze. Lando could feel the weight of the silence between them, and yet, he couldn’t find the words to break it. He knew she needed to go, that she had to be with her family, but a part of him didn’t want to let go. Not yet.

Without thinking, Lando stepped closer, his hand still holding hers tightly. He pulled her gently into him, his arms wrapping around her as he lowered his face to hers. Her breath hitched in the moment before their lips met, the kiss soft but full of emotion. There were no words, just the warmth of their bodies pressed close, the reassurance of a touch that spoke volumes in the face of uncertainty.

When they finally pulled away, it was only by a fraction, their foreheads still resting against each other as they lingered in the quiet. Amelie’s eyes fluttered closed, a soft sigh escaping her lips.

—Promise me you’ll keep in touch, okay?— Lando whispered, his voice thick with emotion. —And if anything happens... if you need anything... you call me, no matter what time it is. Don’t hesitate. I’ll be there.—

Amelie nodded, the ghost of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips despite everything. —I promise, Lan,— she murmured, her voice wavering just slightly.

Lando smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face, before pulling her into one last tight hug. She buried her face in his shoulder, and for a moment, neither of them wanted to let go. It felt like time was standing still, and the world outside didn’t matter—just the two of them, holding on to what they had, however fleeting it might be.

Eventually, they both pulled back, and Amelie reached for her cap and facemask, pulling them on to shield herself from the prying eyes of fans and onlookers. Her hands were still trembling, but she did her best to mask the emotion, slipping the mask over her face and pulling the cap low over her head.

As she turned toward the terminal doors, Lando felt his fingers instinctively reach out for her again. Just as she was about to walk away, he called out softly, his voice cracking just a little.

—Ames.—

She turned back, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears, her mask barely hiding the emotions she was carrying. The silent communication between them was electric, the unspoken words louder than anything either of them could say. She nodded once more, and though her expression was faintly stoic, Lando saw the gratitude in her eyes, the silent thank you for being there when she needed him the most.

Lando gave her a small nod, his heart sinking even as he tried to hide it. He wanted to say more, but the words didn’t feel like enough. Instead, he squeezed her hand one last time, letting go reluctantly as she stepped back toward the entrance of the airport. She hesitated for a moment, looking back at him one final time before disappearing into the crowd.

As Lando stood there, his eyes fixed on the place where she'd vanished, he felt a lump in his throat. He didn’t want to leave things like this, with so many things unsaid, but he knew it wasn’t the time. She needed her family, and he needed to let her go.

Max cleared his throat from the car, breaking the silence. Lando didn’t even notice he had gotten out.

—You good, mate?— Max asked quietly, his voice devoid of any judgment, just concern.

Lando slowly turned to him, his expression unreadable.

—Yeah... I’ll be fine. Just... it's hard, you know?— Lando mumbled, running a hand through his hair, looking down at the ground for a moment.

Max didn’t reply right away, but his presence was comforting enough. After a few seconds of silence, Max spoke up again.

—She’ll be okay, Lan. She’s strong. And so are you. You’ve got her back, even if it's from a distance for now. You know that, right?— Max said, his tone gentle, a stark contrast to his usual bluntness.

Lando gave a small, rueful smile. —I just wish I could do more. I hate feeling so useless when she needs me. She’s... she’s like the most important person in the world to me, you know? I can’t just stand here while she’s going through this. It’s... it's not fair.—

Max clapped him on the back, nudging him toward the car. —Hey, there’s no rulebook for this shit. All you can do is be there for her when she needs you, even if it’s from far away. And I’m pretty sure she knows that.—

Lando let out a deep breath, his shoulders slumping as he glanced back one last time toward the airport doors. He knew Max was right, but that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling of wanting to fix things, to make it all okay again for Amelie.

[pareidoliaonthemove]

Vocal Chords

Virgil tried to work a finger into the collar that dug into the flesh of his neck. A sharp smack knocked his hand away, his own fingers slapping his jaw. “Ow!”

“Cut that out, kiddo.” Grandma was unrepentant, and started fussing with the collar, ensuring it sat to her satisfaction, before finally grasping the tie and reseating it firmly against his throat.

“Gah!” Virgil choked. “Can’t breathe, Grandma!”

“You can breathe fine, kid. I don’t know. You never used to complain when you had to dress up for piano recitals.”

A rasping sound had Virgil glaring at Scott. “Don’t you start. If you’d only listened when we told you to wait, you’d not have caught that cold, you wouldn’t have developed laryngitis, and I wouldn’t be here doing your job for you.”

Scott held up his hands defensively, before signing “Sorry”.

Virgil’s glare didn’t let up.

“I still don’t know why you couldn’t do it. We had enough recordings of you practising that you could have just lipsinced to it.”

“Because everytime Scott practised his speech, Gordon played his ‘subsonic’ sound effects in the next room. When they were played back, all you could hear was ghost noises, explosions and fart noises.” Kayo wasn’t even trying to pretend she wasn’t finding this amusing.

Virgil turned his attention to John. “And don’t you think for one second that the speed with which you ‘came down’ with the laryngitis isn’t suspicious. I don’t know what you've blackmailed Grandma with, but I will find out.”

Grandma sighed. “There’s no blackmail, Virgil dear. John just spends too much time in orbit, and his immune system isn’t up to spec.”

Virgil turned a dark look at John. “I am so revising your allowable flight hours,” he growled.

John shrugged and gave Virgil a look that was so clearly an ‘I dare you’ with promises of retribution that even Kayo stepped away from the line of fire.

The sound from the crowd hidden behind the curtain swelled to a roar, and Virgil paled and gulped.

“Why can’t you do it, Scott?” He asked, eyes a little wild. “You can sign and a translator can speak?”

Scott frowned. “We’ve been over this, Virgil,” he signed. “Just having a Tracy on stage isn’t enough, it needs to be a Tracy’s voice.”

Virgil’s shoulders fell. “Why can’t Grandma do it?”

“Wrong image, kiddo. This is about the future. Having some old fossil banging on about the future isn’t going to work.”

“You’re not old Grandma,” Virgil mumbled.

“You’re a good boy, Virgil. But yes I am, the hint is in the title: ‘Grandma’.” She tapped the underneath of his chin to lift his head. “I’m old enough to qualify for a new title: ‘Great-Grandma’.”

“Gordon wanted to do it,” Virgil was clutching at straws. “He even re-wrote the speech…”

John poked him sharply in the ribs, before signing, “He was going to announce the re-working of all aerospace and astrospace manufacturing facilities into marine engineering facilities. By this time tomorrow we’d be lucky to have the shirts on our backs!”

Scott pushed him back. “Gordon has a public profile that … isn’t compatible with this arena.” There was an apologetic expression on his face.

“It will be okay, Virgil. The teleprompter is there, just read off what it says. I’ll be right next to you there. We’re skipping the live Q&A in favour of a virtual one. The MC is making my apologies, and explaining the laryngitis. The stagelights are set to hide the audience. You won’t see them. Just go out there, and read what the teleprompter says.”

While Virgil was focused on Scott’s hands, Grandma had been rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back. And somewhere, amongst all that, without Virgil realising it, he was now standing on the edge of the stage, right by the curtain.

Virgil started as the huge yawning space between him and the podium stretched out into infinity. Somewhere, over the sound of the MCs slick professional patter setting out the agenda for the day he could hear the sounding of rustling, people moving, the occasional cough, the sound of breathing. Oh, god, he could hear them breathing. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t…

A soft chime sounded in his discreet earpiece. “Thunderbird Two, standby.” It was EOS, and the use of the callsign had Virgil’s breathing evening out, and his spine straightening.

“Thunderbird Two, deploy.”

And with Scott leading the way, and acknowledging the audience, Virgil Tracy – Thunderbird Two – stepped onto the stage.

Notes:

Work has been eating both all my time, and apparently, all my brain. But I’ve finally got a piece written for Febuwhump!

The standard disclaimers, I do not own Thunderbirds, either the Original Series, the Movies (both Supermarionation and Live Action), or the Thunderbirds Are Go Series. (Although I do own copies on DVD.)

I do not do this for money, but for my own (in)sanity and entertainment.

[whocaresstillthelouvre]

Dieter Bravo's Christmas Special Merry Christmas @schnarfer!

In a shocking revelation... since I just acted like your Secret Santa had a question for you... I'm your Tent Pitchers Secret Santa and I couldn't be more excited to give you your gift! Getting to know you has been one of the best gifts I could get this year. Shout out to @mothandpidgeon for her eyes and ears and her fellow wingedness. Also, this is a sell on The Adventures of Owl, Moth & Mallardy. 🦉🦋🦆 Also big shout out to @devineconjuring for her beta work and support in this insanity where I make her read terribly formatted scripts. Thanks to @saradika-graphics for the ornaments! Now, please keep in mind the formatting is a bit wacky because the script format is NOT Tumblr friendly so I had to do screen shots for some scenes. TW: Some drug and alcohol use is in here. This is absolute insanity. I cannot stress this enough. It is Dieter after all.

Dieter takes his mark. The lights are way too bright. Who decided that he needed to be under so many bright fucking lights? 

He holds his mug of hot cocoa—and whiskey—and takes a drink that burns his throat. He swallows the fiery yet smooth liquid down and blinks his big doe eyes at Camera A. The one they put a picture of a scantily clad lady dressed like Santa on so he can remember it’s the main camera. 

Why did he ever agree to do something like this? He remembers the meeting a couple months ago, taking the elevator up to one of the top floors in a boring brutalist-style building smack dab in the middle of downtown Los Angeles. His team and the network’s shaking hands and comparing dick sizes and bank accounts as they planned to exploit the American capitalist dream, all in the name of holiday cheer. He was about to tell everyone no and to fuck off—until they dropped that they could get the Muppets. He’s always wanted to meet Kermit–he thinks he would be a positive influence in his life.  

So, Dieter Bravo agreed to do the Christmas special and signed his name on the contract.

Now he’s here in this itchy, hot sweater under these bright lights. 

The festive music fades out into a commercial break. Dieter rushes off stage behind the big, red velvet curtains to his dressing room. 

“How much time do I have?” He asks the stage assistant as he guzzles down a drink of cold water.

“You have to be on stage in seven minutes, Mr. Bravo. Radiohead is doing their cover of Grandma Got Ran Over By A Reindeer, and then you’re doing the animal showcase.

“Right, right. Gotta pee,” Dieter says with a nod as he swings the bathroom door open.

“I’ll just uhh—leave you to it,” the shocked assistant says as Dieter pulls his pants down with zero shame. 

Ugh, he’s so tired. He knows just the thing that will help him. His own snow, glorious little snow that he keeps in a vial in his bag. 

One hit, one deep sniff, one nose tickle, and he’s GOLDEN. Until—

He steps out on stage and sees a gigantic owl. His eyes go wide, his pulse quickening—not just from his magic white powder.

He cautiously walks over to the friendly-enough-looking zookeeper and takes his spot, his big brown eyes darting back and forth from the owl to the exit sign.

“AND WE’RE BACK IN 5-4-3-2…1”

Fuck.

He stares wide-eyed at the camera. 

“Wel—welcome back to my special… it’s special. Guys, holy shit, there’s an owl. That’s a bird of prey. BIRDS. We all know all the birds died in 1986.” 

“Um. You’re wrong about the latter, but as for the former, you’re right. Owls are a bird of prey, very good!” The zookeeper answers. 

“I don’t trust birds, man,” Dieter says, leering at the wide-eyed owl with fear. “They can fly too far and they’re always listening. My mom told me that’s who Santa uses to watch over us during the year to make sure we’re being nice.”

“…okay,” the zookeeper replies, his smile faltering for a moment as he tries to adjust to Dieter's energy. “But owls are actually sagacious creatures. They help maintain the ecosystem by controlling rodent populations.”

Dieter leans closer and squints at the owl, totally cool with all the commotion surrounding it. “Yeah, well, that’s what they want you to think! I bet it’s just some kind of spy. You know? Like a furry little CIA agent with feathers.”

“Okaaaay. Let’s just… get back to how amazing owls can be,” the zookeeper says, trying to regain control of the segment. “This magnificent creature here is named Psyche. She’s a great horned owl and—”

“Great horned owl?” Dieter interrupts, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “Does that mean she has horns? I thought only goats had those.” He shoots Psyche a sideways glance, who blinks lazily back at him.

“No horns, just ears that look like horns!” the zookeeper explains, trying hard to remain upbeat while Dieter spirals further into his conspiracy theories. “And Psyche—”

“More like ‘Psyche the Spy’s key,’” Dieter cuts in again. “What is she reporting back? ‘Hey Santa, this guy is weird?’”

“Uhh,” the zookeeper blinks at Dieter, then towards the director. 

Dieter leans into Psyche, feeling braver and braver the longer he’s near her. “What’s in your head, little horned one?”

Psyche moves her head, her large yellow eyes meeting his. 

“WITCH!” Dieter shouts, arms flailing as he runs to hide behind a large tree flocked with white snow, decorated with red and gold baubles and beautiful ornaments depicting animals. 

“CUT TO COMMERCIAL!” The exasperated director harshly whispers into his headset. “And send that zookeeper a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.” 

Dieter watches from next to the director as three of his childhood heroes read from a gilded Night Before Christmas book. Wow, Kermit the Frog is here–and he’s about to join him. 

This is it. Over forty years of fandom, and NOW–NOW–he gets to meet Kermit. His heart feels like it’s going to fly out of his chest with each step he takes across the stage towards his three heroes. 

Dieter is now only two steps away from the wall. Soon, he’ll be with them, able to hug and touch them. THE FUCKING MUPPETS. He moves to stand behind the wall—but his foot runs into something that lets out a soft oof.

He looks down. There’s an actual human man huddled behind the wall with—with their hand UP KERMIT’S ASS.

“Dude! What the fuck? What!? You sick fuck?! What is happening? GET YOUR HAND OUT OF KERMIT’S BUTT!” He shouts, yanking the puppet off of the man’s hand. 

“CUT!!! CUT CUT CUT SEND TO COMMERCIAL! CUT!” The director yells. “And send that puppeteer a giant bouquet of flowers tomorrow.”

“It’s okay, Kermit, I’ve got you,” Dieter cries into the floppy, green fabric. 

“Dieter,” the director gets his attention. “This was a terrible idea. Please, go get some rest. Prepare your team for the barrage of reporters who will be calling.”

“But, who’s going to finish the show?” Dieter asks, holding Kermit’s body closer to him. 

“We—we called in a replacement. Phoebe! Get out here!”

Phoebe Waller-Bridge walks out in a beautiful red dress, wearing black tights and black boots. Quite Fleabag coded. 

“I’m ready!” She cheerily announces.

“Wow,” Dieter says, enamored by her presence. “Yeah, you’ll be way better than me at this. I’m going to take a nap. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Dieter! Now, send in the hot priests to dance!”

Love you 🦉

[juchily]

Yellow jackets Season 3 Ep 3 thoughts

But real this time, spoilers below ⚠️

I want to try and by more analytic for this episode? Idk I had to decipher renaissance writings in history today and the curtains are blue guys

Mari really think sucking up to Ben would work? Anyways, too sexy for this cave, to sexy to die, to sexy to drink the hot chocolate and prove the pomegranate theory...

The amount of lore drops we got is craaazy, Mari drop, Ben drop, wowza

Really need to know how long Other Tai's been there and how much we've seen her because... This episode for adult Tai is wild.

With the focus on Van I really think she's dying this season... No matter how many lives Tai may try and sacrifice to please the wilderness.

Someone cut Shauna's brakes, and I don't think it was Misty...

More Shaunahat content! I wonder if Shauna's just playing Melissa or has/is growing feelings (of some sort) for her

Shauna being nice to Mari for once?? (Only to get what she wants but still)

i think the most outstanding performance so far this season has to be Melanie because WOW the range, the downwards spiral into pure rage after Shauna sees Callie wearing Jackie's necklace

Speaking of, why did Lottie have the necklace? How does she? Will we see how that came to happen?

Now, the No-Eyed Man:

The Pee Wee Television show streamed 1986-1990. I can't tell you which episode it is playing where the ad for the ice cream shop is on, but yeah.

No-Eyed Man originates from Ozzy's Ice Cream Parlor. Unless Van and Tai are both collectively hallucinating this.

So, is No-Eyed Man a result of trauma? Tai, a young girl, watching a freaky, weird, terrifying commercial one night and soon after her grandma died. Clearly there's some sort of history of mental disorders for Taissa, her grandmother very well had delusions or hallucinations like we see with Taissa, maybe even a fragmented self, dare we call her Other-Grandmother or something

Now, on the other hand. The supernatural. We see a coyote with a rabbit in it's maul. Now, the chances of this just being something that Tai and Van happen to see at that time is really low, and doesn't narratively make sense for it to be random. We have the rabbit symbolism: purity, innocence, Jackie. The coyote, we don't have much for. But it's a predator, the symbol for the spiral of the human soul, or otherwise the Wilderness itself. So, front foot forward—its what Van and Tai say, the wilderness needs more victims. One to cure Van, two, perhaps to cure Tai's mental disorder that causes these visions.

Now I guess that's technically supernatural + mental illness, but I can't reason up a supernatural version because there's too many 'if's and 'but's and 'what if's, and circumstances, and scenarios, and all the in-between.

So, moving on from the headache that was me trying to explain this as fully supernatural... And giving up two lines in and deleting it all...

the CAVE:

so basically the underground mine theory is pretty much confirmed.

Shaunnat ❤️

First of all, WOW forget the Caligula dance number this outdoes it tenfold I've never felt more miserable (in the best way), confused, and utterly fucked in the head as I was watching this episode...

So, first we have Akilah.

Uhm. Yeah.

But of course, the pomegranate theory: Akilah DOES eat when she's out of it, in fact she eats a lot. We'll have to keep an eye out on her and see if she makes it out and disproves the pomegranate theory since they WERE unconscious. I hope she makes it out because like 🙏🙏 please do not die honey

Biting, so much emphasis on biting by that damn llama, Akilah IS NOT BECOMING THE NEXT MEAL, NOT ON MY ⌚

But she's like literally swallowed by the dirt. The fucking dirt gods, the Wilderness, uhm.

Next, Van. Poor girl is suffering rn. There's a focus on the cabin (the cabin is set up as if when someone would have been living in it, Cabin Guy) and the fireplace alit. Very interesting taking into account the theory (that I wholeheartedly agree with) that Other Tai burned the cabin/lit it alight. Although it would be funny if, like Van's dream shows, the cabin caught ablaze because someone just forgot to watch the fire and an ember caught badly.

Maybe it's just as simple as that.

Anyways, the rocking chair she was sat on becomes a flight seat, she's strapped in tight and there's arms around her too.

And like people have pointed out: a letterman jacket cladded arm, probably Jackie's

Next, Shauna. The most heartbreaking shit ever. I don't think we've ever seen Shauna EVER smile that big, not pre crash, not with Jackie, this is A HORRIBLE TIME TO BE A SHAUNA FAN BECAUSE THE TEARS DONT STOP

Ugh, her literal baby boy and she's stuck in the unending, bottomless ocean of grief, kept away from her damn baby boy, no matter how hard she kicks and swims she can't make it.

Now, who's dream is it? Now is this supernatural, idk my brain hurts thinking about the supernatural aspects of this show— you should have seen me the first time I watched Phantoms for the first time trying to FIND a way to justify the film because it's pretty damn supernatural, but it's explained in a sci-fi way. Fun, I recommend the film.

Here's what I think about the nature of the dream:

A physical gas in the cave put them to sleep (much like any other gas poisoning). But the dreams are a supernatural reaction because they came near death from has exposure.

So, to reiterate what I mean: the gas is a physical thing

The dream itself is not a natural "dream", and I think they were all collectively together in the same "dream", it was not just one of their dream.

The dream/"supernatural occurrence" takes inspiration from the brains of multiple of the girls. If I had to put them into categories this is how I would do it:

Akilah: the messaging in the "group dream" about helping Shauna and saving her and that if she doesn't they will all die (more on that specific line later)

Van: the No-Eyed Man (I cant remember if we see her and Tai talk about that in past tl but yeah)

Shauna: Lottie (thats gay af of you Shauna...), Jackie attacking Shauna

First of all, before the nitty-gritty, Courtney Eaton is so gorgeous in that damn outfit ughhhh LORD SAVE ME

Jackie ❤️❤️

"of all the ways to lose a person, death is the kindest"

This applies in many ways:

It all comes back to Lottielee 🙏 👏 Laura Lee was killed by the Wilderness—or whatever you want to believe—but point is, she died before the real meaty part of the horrors of the wilderness.

A reference to the survivers themselves. There's multiple ways to lose a person, not just through death which according to what Lottie (dream Lottie? Akilah, Shauna, and Van's perception of Lottie) said, death is the nicest.

The most obvious is losing a person's... Person. Their character, their morals, their innocence.

Death is kinder than them living to experience horrible things that will make them horrible people.

OH BOY LETS GET TO SOME OF MY FAVORITE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE DREAM SEQUENCE

✨Shauna and Jackie✨

The symbolism here is HEAVY

Shauna is SEPARATED from Van and Akilah

and Jackie slaps the slap bracelet onto her neck, cutting her neck, SILENCING HER. Bleeding, she's hurt

this is obviously a reflection of how Shauna feels towards Jackie

That or either Ghost Jackie feels like being a meanie head which is pretty valid of her

Bringing back the line about Akilah needing to save Shauna, Akilah can't, but if she doesn't Shauna will die *they'll all die* (also Courtney's accent comes out alot here it's really cute)

I think that either Akilah will have to make a big decision that will affect her survival (the girls eating her) particularly regarding Shauna (maybe when Shauna becomes leader and her decisions and whether Akilah goes ahead with them)

Or this isn't really regarding Akilah more than it does Shauna. If something happens to Shauna, the same will be to the others

No other thoughts on that line at this point... Honestly I just think this dream sequence is really ominous when it comes to what may occur in the upcoming new episodes

I'm just scared low-key they went so Twin Peaks with this episode, so I guess actually I'm excited

Final thoughts:

Why does Lottie have the necklace? What will happen with Callie this season?

More Pomegranate theory proof? Mine theory proof/true?

No-Eyed Man bro, love how much we got on him this episode yet it still feels like so little!

Coach Ben might be done for 🤷

There's a lot of stuff and theories I didn't mention so I'd recommend checking out other peoples stuff too

[tj-crochets]

So, some backstory. I have been trying to get the measurements to make this curtain (and the second, yet to be made curtain) for my grandma for three months. I finally got the window measurements when my mom went to visit her for her birthday, and my mom said to add a few inches to the window measurements to make sure the curtains fully cover the windows. I sent my grandma this picture, and she called me to tell me I “hadn’t accounted for billowing” and that curtains need to be much wider than windows so they can billow??? I talked her into accepting this curtain as-is so she can try it and see how much wider she wants the final curtain, and then I can use the ratio of the first curtain to the replacement to figure out the dimensions of the curtain for the second window

The curtain for my grandma’s door is almost done!! All I have to do is sew closed the opening for turning, wash it, and get it in the mail to my grandma

[winniefrezcomics]

I have one question about mama cosma no drawing needed c:

In the show its clear that Mama cosma favorite is Cosmo so I was wondering how she reacted when Cosmo came out to her

And how close was he to her before coming out?

(I type all that and then realized cosmo is carl in ur AU sorry lol)

Alsooooo have a good day and don't forget to drink some water! 💚💚💚😊

Why thank u! Oh shit I actually do need to go drin-

(I’ll give some more info on Carlos upbringing in the post abt why he had a fairy godparent assigned to him, but I’d be happy to keep the mama cosma stuff as separate as possible lmaoooo)

Mama cosma/ transphobia ment under cut ☠️ less get into it ig

I think Carlo (formerly Carly, but I’ll be referring to him as the proper name/pronouns for my own comfort 🫶) was fairly close to his mother as a child, but the older he got, he couldn’t help but notice just how AGAINST the idea of Carlo going out with friends his mother constantly was, or even MAKING freinds, for that matter.

See, I think Mama Cosmic was a VERY possessive parent, brought on by her husbands sudden, mysterious disappearance (which she interprets as him walking out of on her and thier two children, despite him very much NOT deciding to disappear) aaaaand the fact that Shnozmo (a nickname Carlo had for his brother Shawn) pretty much hit the road and emancipated himself the second he turned 18 to escape his mothers BS.

This of course leaves Carlo at her mercy, and once Shawn is gone she barley lets Carlo leave the house, hence him being assigned a godparent, to fill the hole his dad and older brother left! (Tho Fairy Timmy is a MUCH cooler older brother to him sobs)

All this to say, I don’t interpret Carlo/Cosmo as her FAVORITE per se, so much as I interpret him as “the only thing she has left and won’t let out of her sight for fear he will leave her too” 😬

ANYWAY to answer your actual question- mama cosmic was upset ENOUGH by Carlo coming out as a lesbian, but after meeting Wendy, Carlo attempts to come out to his mother as a man MULTIPLE times, and every time she just straight up shut him down like “no you’re not.” 🙃

And so, as abusive parents often do, Mama Cosmic’s refusal to accept her son and his girlfriend created a self-fulfilling prophecy, and Carlo did exactly what his older brother did- leave as soon as he turned eighteen.

Tho to Carlo’s credit he DID reach out to his mother again once he had transitioned (which she fumbled, of course), sent her a celebratory postcard when they adopted Timmy (which she never responded to), and then reached out AGAIN when he got pregnant, but THAT time mama cosmic was actually willing to help, because there was a grandchild involved 😷

On that note, I don’t think Timmy’s relationship with his Grandma has EVER been good, bc I feel like she would often slip up and call Perry her “real” grandchild, or something equally insensitive- and never really bothered fostering a good relationship with Timmy, because she didn’t really consider him “hers” (despite the fact that Carlo and Wendy treat him EXACTLY the same as their bio son >:T )

And you KNOW teenage Timmy read her the mf RIOT ACT when mama cosmic’s mask finally slipped, and she said some fucked up shit to Timmy’s ENTIRE MOTHER right in front of him before Carlo intervened, telling his wife to take the boys to the car while he has a talk with his mother. (This event occurred after Perry attempted to tell his grandma that he was actually a little boy, but she shut him down in a similar manner to Carlo and things escalated quickly- the last memory current Perry has of his grandma is locking eyes with her as the family car drove away, and seeing the hateful scowl on her face before she closed the curtains in a huff ☠️🙃)

I DO think she and Carlo eventually reconcile, but, maybe more importantly, she and PERRY eventually make up as well, with her apologizing to an adult Perry for missing so much of his childhood, and Perry forgives her!

….Then Timmy Excitedly introduces His estranged grandma to Perry’s wife with a full beard and horrifying vampire grin (Iris) just to see the look of shock and confusion on her face lmaoooo get dunked on 😂☠️

Perry wants to be mad at them but can’t because it was so funny dnndendndjdjdj might have to doodle that eventually but for now that about all I have to say about ol’ MC-

Ty for the question! Abusive parents suck- to the bwender w ye 😂

[drchenquill]

Character profile tag!

Thank you for the tag @the-golden-comet , @sableglass , @finickyfelix and @paeliae-occasionally ! I'm sorry it took me so long, I just couldn't decide who to take for this game. I'll just go with my baby boy Leon.

Name: Leon Martens

Nickname: "Waschlappen" by his late grandma. (It's German and it means sissy, wimp and so on.) It's an insult, but she used it as nickname, often refering to him like that while talking to other people, making it sound like a cute "family inside joke".

Kind of being: Human

Age: 23

Gender: Male

Appearance: fluffy honey-blonde hair with dark drown eyes. Very pale, almost sickly looking skin. He mostly wears cardigans to feel comfortable. His calloused hands look frail like everything on him to be honest. He is rather thin and weak looking. He is a frail man.

Occupation: Art teacher

Family members: None (all deceased. It wasn't a big family)

Pets: None

Best friends: he would say none, but Kiki has taken that spot very fast.

Describe his/her room: So, a bit of context. He moved into a shabby apartment but mid story was forced to move again into a not-as-shabby apartment. I'll describe his old room because his current room isn't his, it's Kilians.

Quoting him: "My bedroom has a large window that looks out onto the street. Normally I would draw the curtains, which didn't happen this time. That's why I can see the first shy rays of sunlight creeping into the day. The apartment I'm currently renting consists of five rooms. The bedroom with a double bed that takes up far too much space, thanks in part to the wardrobe that will collapse on me with just a small earthquake and free me, a bathroom that barely has room for a bathtub, a living room furnished with a beige couch that I doubt was the original color, a small TV that I'm afraid to turn on and, last but not least, the small kitchen where I recently tried to make a coffee with shaky hands and the flame of the stove almost burned my face."

Way of speaking: Polite, tries to never raise his voice.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): He avoids eye contact and often walks with his head down. When he's stressed, his right hand tends to cramp, so you may see him subtly massaging it. He also tends to have twitching hands when he feels the need to draw something to calm down. He is developing a hunchback by always walking with a hunched posture to subconsciously make himself smaller.

Items in his/her back pocket/ purse: A small pocketsized sketchbook with a tiny pencil (he draws to calm himself down.) And his phone and wallet.

Hobbies: Drawing.

Favorite sports: None.

Abilities/Talents/Powers: Drawing

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): He tries not to interact with other people, but when he does, he tends to not hold eye contact for too long. He is rather submissive, not wanting to anger anyone.

Fears: Being looked at, making mistakes, angering other people, people thinking he is insane.

Fault: He is very paranoid and does not trust at all. He always thinks the worst and often doesn't give the other person a chance to explain. He can be very petty.

Good points: He is very gentle with children. He loves children because he feels safe around them.

What he/she wants more than anything else: To be left alone and to get rid of the crushing guilt he feels after surviving the car accident that killed his parents.

~~~

Tagging with no pressure @theink-stainedfolk , @inseasofgreen , @katenewmanwrites , @kaeru483 , @happypup-kitcat24 and open tag~

[cologona]

If you won some sort of lottery contest and DC allowed you to write a comic run for any character, any topic, no limits, what would your comic be like?

What kinda plot and characters would you want to etch into official DC canon? (Or would you prefer to write an elseworlds kinda thing?)

-redhoodinternaldialectical from the "main" blog

Sorry it took a while to answer this, I got pretty carried away! Jason is my favorite character and the character I know most about, so of course I'd write about him. This is going to be pretty long winded and fanfic-y, hope you don’t mind!

First things first I’m making both UTRH and Lost Days mostly canon again. Jason was a crime lord who did Mean Crime Lord Things for a while and that’s what I’ve decided everyone is referring to when they gesture vaguely to his villainous past.

I’m also bringing back the original “big boob” backstory where Jason makes Bruce laugh on the anniversary of his parents’ death. Catherine was an opioid addict due to illness, Willis was the person who taught Jason about cars (and thus how to jack tires) and Faye Gunn is no longer Jason’s grandma. (I really disliked Ma Gunn’s “redemption” in RHATO.) Just in case, I’m also reiterating Sheila’s role in Jason’s death.

Here’s a few lines I came up with for the Todds:

Jason keeps the letters Willis sent him from prison - the ones Ma Gunn hid- in the same picture frame that holds his Robin graduation photo with Bruce. He loved and resented Willis in equal parts, but mostly he regrets not having gotten more time. It’s all the same with fathers.

Catherine is curled up in bed, her expression is half a grimace. She asks Jason, who is reading a picture-book by her side, to get her ‘medicine’ for her. Jason doesn’t know how else to help her feel better so… that’s exactly what he does. In a moment, he returns with a small heart shaped box and a cup of microwaved soup.

If I can imply in some way that Catherine is in denial about the possibility of her dying I’d like to do that too.

I’m also doing a total overhaul of the All-Caste.

Essence is getting proper Tibetan braids, Ducra is going to wear a khampa chuba instead of her current old coat, and the Acres-of-All are getting reimagined as a towering Ziggurat with all the murals, pillars, curtains, and ornate trim befitting a monastery! The All-caste of memory will be bright and fantastical, but the ruins of the present will be dark and spooky.

Some references for what I'm talking about.

I’m also reframing the “Absolute Evil” part of the All-blades’ description to be an epithet for the Untitled. The sword is not literally judging Goodness and Evilness anymore; now they cut through negative psychic energy Jujutsu Kaisen style. I don’t think I need to spell out a justification for Jason being able to summon them whenever, but for any sticklers I’ll just say it’s because Jason- like the Untitled- has a lot of bad feelings and trace amounts of Dionesium in his system (among assorted other chemicals.)

Since Lost Days is being brought back that means instead of spending an entire 3 years with the All-Caste, Jason only spent a few weeks with them during his world-wide training arc. Ostensibly because a little magic would give him an edge over Batman. Ducra wouldn’t normally just give away powerful magic weapons to any chump with a free weekend, and she knew Jason was dangerous, but since the All-Blades are so specific and the ritual to attain them nigh-unsurvivable she saw an opportunity to use Jason. Sure she's one of the Good Guys, but she's not called a conniving old witch for nothing hoohoo!

Now a few plot ideas for a vague overall mini-arc.

First, Jason goes to ugly lengths to protect or prevent consequences from finding one of his family. Maybe someone threatens their secret identity…? The ‘opponent’ should be someone innocent and/or noble but not easily bought or fought. Maybe Vicki Vale, another Hero, or some kind of wealthy heir. The point is to cast doubt on if Jason’s return to the Bats is really so unquestionably redeeming. Jason has pretty much chosen to betray his morals for them after all.

Then, Jason chooses not to kill a villain who shortly afterwards victimizes more people and skips town before he can get caught. Basically a rehash of Diplomat’s Son except the Garzonas figure gets away. It’s technically a win for Batman- his presence kept Gotham safe after all. But it doesn’t feel like a win, especially not to Jason.

And finally, Jason frames himself for various murders committed by victims against their abusers. Maybe kick the story off with one of Ma Gunn’s boys killing her and telling the cops it was Red Hood in a desperate bid to avoid jail.

Obviously Jason can’t be allowed to do this long-term. It’s a bad precedent to set, an obstruction of justice, etc… Jason hasn’t broken The Big Rule though, and Bruce can only act so sanctimonious when those same complaints could be are made about him as well. There’s no way this ends any other way than Batman running Red Hood out of Gotham again and they both know it, but neither deviates from the path set before them.

One or two “monster of the week” issues where Jason fights various assassins and bounty hunters sent by his more influential enemies might be good- one should occur right after the above story. A consequence for his “return to form” so to speak. Batfamily fans may appreciate a scene where Bruce says something indicating that he ran Jason out for his own safety as well as Gotham’s. Batman may be able to hide in Bruce Wayne’s skin during the day but Jason’s only identity is that of Red Hood, and at times that makes him vulnerable in a way other heroes aren’t. This + some panels contrasting the generic mercenary look of Jason’s guns and equipment with the Bats’ spandex future-tech will be great for showing how separate Jason is from the Bats.

Now while Jason’s out of Gotham again there’s this detail in one of RHATO’s flashbacks that I want to expand on- that being how he used to be able to summon a lot more All-blades.

Red Hood Outlaw 34

“I had a lot of soul back then” - implying that he has a lot less soul now…!?

Jason’s been through a lot, in life sure but also more recently. Fight scenes where the All-blades take the form of daggers would not only be cool and evocative of the wavy dagger Talia gifted him way back when, they’d be good visual sign of his declining emotional state.

Later on as his soul ‘shrinks’ further, I’d give him a pair of mystical guns through which he can channel his All-blades into bullets. If it’s another gift from Talia I’m thinking dark brass revolvers with paisley filigree and a red Endless Knot charm hanging from each handle. If they’re from Essence or S’aru I’m thinking black lacquer and silver cloud-patterned ornamentation, with red coral embedded on either side of the gun. Beautiful Bayonetta-style guns with glowing red veins and a cowboy flair!

antique guns which inspired me

As for what he’s using the All-blades (All-bullets?) for, I think it’d be fun to have Jason exorcising some ghosts. He can solve various murder mysteries, figure out why this place or that person is haunted, and get into fights with horrific otherworldly creatures. Jason is an interesting character to do this premise with because he might just determine that some some spirits should get their revenge, and act on behalf of a ghost rather than erasing it.

I’m not sure whether I’d want to have Essence join him or not… On one hand it only makes sense that Jason would help Isabel and Essence find a way to free themselves from the Blood Blade, and that goal would provide his character with some direction. Then again, Essence/Isabel could be cool as antagonists. Jason might see some ghosts as valid but Essence probably wouldn’t see any merit in appeasing manifestations of lingering resentment. She’s similar to him in that she also turned her back on her family, but she’s different in that she did it because she believed so wholeheartedly in their cause. She’s old and sort of a Jedi, but she’s hot-blooded and she’ll never not be Ducra’s daughter in the same way it seems Jason can never escape Batman’s shadow. I bet she has some real juicy sunk-cost fallacy type thinking too, that’d be fun to dig into.

Anyways I think this is a pretty good set-up to explore the politics/morality of forgiveness. What makes the difference between an injustice and a hatchet that ought to be buried? When is forgiveness empowering and when is it coerced? Who is it that must forgive? Justice vs Revenge, that whole kind of thing.

Other than the supernatural stuff I want Jason working with Talia, and I’m reintroducing Sasha to the post-52 continuity. Duela is getting nixed.

I don’t really have any specific plot ideas for Talia, but I would like to establish Jason as one of her associates. With Lost Days back they have basis for an actual relationship again. They’re not always on the same side but Jason can sometimes do tasks for Talia (outside the purview of Ra’s and the LOA), and Talia can occasionally support Jason with various social power-play type moves.

An instance of Jason getting into a fight with one of the Bats because he’s doing a favor for Talia would be great! I wouldn't write Talia as an evil evil bad horrible dragon lady, so it shouldn’t be a huge blow to Jason’s status as a Good Guy. Also I like the idea of Jason and Talia’s relationship mostly being inferred through their actions supporting one another, rather than directly showing much ‘on-screen’ interaction between them.

Also it’ll be interesting to go into Bruce, Dick, and Damian’s reaction to finding out that they’re not the only ones Jason is loyal to. Bruce thinking Talia was a bad influence on Jason (like fanon), silently frustrated because what he really wants is for Jason to be a full Bat-Believer (like the good old days…). Dick being fine with Jason never falling fully in-line with Bruce, provided that at the end of the day his loyalty belonged to his family.

-brief topical detour to talk about Sasha-

The new timeline of events is that Jason and Sasha met as fellow patients while Jason was in his Vague Villain era. They escaped the hospital building together (Sasha in her bloody dress, and Jason naked save for his skimpy hospital gown dhoti) and having no one else they stuck together. They got close but at some point Sasha lost her memories, giving her a chance at a fresh start. This was around the same time Jason “redeemed” himself and so just like Max Dawkins, ‘Numbers’, and Gabby Christiensen -Sasha became another person from Jason’s past that he didn’t let himself have a relationship with.

Sasha was just old enough that she didn’t have to be sent into foster care, so with some help from Wayne Foundations she got her GED and her feet underneath her. Now… she goes to work, goes to her physical therapy appointments, fights with her mother over the phone, and yes- sometimes she goes to the club.

The new Sasha still has spiky red hair but her face looks entirely normal save for a subtle scar tracing around her jawline and chin- the edges of where her mask used to sit. She wears dark makeup and even darker clothes. She’s prone to false memories and dissociation. She’s lost most of her ability to feel pain. She can’t watch certain shows she used to love anymore because they trigger her. She never returned to Russia. She doesn’t have many friends.

Since this is comics, her reintroduction will come by way of a dramatic fight. Sasha will regain her memories one day and show up out of the blue to fight Jason, angry and heartbroken that he abandoned her. He tries to explain himself but she just says look what they did to my face, referring to the facial reconstructive surgery she was given while amnesiac. She’ll be difficult to fight, not only because being a partial Dollotron gives her enhanced strength but also because she’s being reckless and the longer they fight the more strain and damage her body accrues.

After Jason apologizes and they reconcile (they will both cry) Sasha can become a recurring side character that Jason visits, keeping him grounded and up to date with Gotham. I think it'd be cute for her to bid him farewell by saying she’ll hold the city hostage until he comes back. (Is Sasha going to become Jason’s love interest? No. If I give Jason a love interest it’s going to be Numbers.)

--Going back to the previous topic, I want Sasha’s return to be part of this greater arc of Jason addressing his "shrinking soul" problem. My brain is a little fried now so I’m not exactly sure how but she is related. I think she ought to be.

Jason wants Bruce to be right. He would like for his problem to be fixed by going home and saying sorry. But at the end of my run I want him to face the reality that it’s not about that.

...Perhaps it should be about Jason 'abandoning' Gotham? I don’t really want the final thesis of my run to imply that Jason’s soul would just be fixed if he killed Rogues though, and Jason always came back whenever a big disaster was happening so it doesn't quite fit anyways… Jason does believe in the value of “pure” heroes it’s just not what he’s supposed to be. Whatever his problem's “about” , it ought to prompt Jason to stop taking Bruce’s shit. I'm saying the man is literally breaking Jason's spirit.

I’m sympathetic to Bruce but I wouldn’t write him as a nice father. I would also have scene where a younger Bat accuses Jason of being overdramatic despite 'not even having it the worst’. I don't know who 'has it the worst' but I want to make a statement that you don't need to win the pain-race to be fed up.

Ah anyways, now my brain is really fried. I hope this post was coherent all the way through, I neglected to edit and organize my thoughts as much towards the end. Thank you for asking me such a great question, I had a lot of fun thinking about it! :D

[hildegardladyofbones]

It is so fucking baffling how little care people have when talking about the ussr, even when they're the same people that are super respectful about imperialism, genocide, etc. Not saying they shouldn't be, I'm just wondering where it all goes when the soviet union comes up. Like sure, we're white people, the world isn't systemically against us, not arguing against that, but that doesn't erase the 51 years of dictatorship that we had to live under.

People that barely even know what was happening behind the iron curtain make jokes about stalin, lenin and brežnev. Whenever someone said the word "us" the replies were always "*communism intesifies*", though luckily thay trend seemed to die out. It was disrespectful nevertheless. And if you're from an ex soviet country and say that you don't mind them, good for you, idc. Your opinion doesn't invalidate mine. This not a joking matter. I'm not calling you a bad person if you like those jokes, but the discussion about what was going on is seemingly non existent and we need to have it! People need to at least be aware when they talk about these topics!

I may not have lived through it, but my mom, and her mom did. My grandma has serious hoarding problems now because of the trauma of not having anything. People were afraid to help each other because if you help the wrong person you'll get labeled a traitor. You couldn't escape because you would ruin the life for people that you left behind, because if a family member was against the system then you couldn't get permits for buying cars, let alone moving. There were fucking book burnings. People got sent to siberia for looking at someone wrong. And this is just the tip of the iceberg.

What it was was not communism, it was a dictatorship. So don't call me an anti communist. Instead of doing that, pick up the beauty of history by viivi luik. The English translation is free on the Internet archive. If you can get on your hands on it, read the seventh spring of piece and pay attention because that book you have to read in between the lines.

Tl;Dr respect my (and other people's countries') country's trauma and learn what the school didn't teach you because there's no way that this disrespect would exist if people knew.

[chains-of-deception]

ch 7.

ao3 link

word count: 2566

notes at the end

───

"Yes, maybe, actually I’ve never asked him," is the first thing that comes to mind to respond, as he looks back at his phone, searching for nice places to spend the afternoon. He’s thought about a café or a park with a playground so Ga-yeong can have fun. Maybe even the claw machine arcade, to try to impress Young-il with his skills: during his short breaks the day before, he’d been practicing, hoping to improve and win a cute prize.

A teddy bear, he thought, though after some consideration, he dismissed the idea. A bit too romantic for a friend... Still, the image of Young-il holding a small teddy bear warmed his heart.

"You’re his friend and you don’t know, Dad?" Ga-yeong seems genuinely puzzled. However, Gi-hun can’t think of any excuse. "I even know my friends’ favorite colors! You should ask him more things."

Mal Soon, who had been passively listening to the conversation the whole time, appears in front of them. She’s carrying a basket of vegetables, indicating that she’s about to head to the market for her shift.

"Why don’t you invite him over for tea first?"

Gi-hun doesn’t want to admit that he’s avoiding bringing him home, too embarrassed by how shabby it looks compared to Young-il’s apartment. While Young-il has luxurious furniture, leather seats, overflowing bookshelves, silky curtains, and a black marble kitchen, the closest thing to luxury in Gi-hun’s tiny house is probably the small altar where his late father’s ashes rest. And not only that, but the neighborhood isn’t particularly nice either. Outside, in the narrow hallway leading to his home, there are stacked boxes and bags of trash blocking the way. He doesn’t want Young-il to see the precarious conditions he lives in. He needs to keep him in the dark a little longer, he thinks, until he can use his new salary to give the house a better look. New furniture, second-hand but looking new, warm incense—never walnut, maybe vanilla—and curtains that don’t absorb all the light so it doesn’t look like he’s living in a cave. Ga-yeong snorts through her nose, the sudden sound pulling Gi-hun out of his thoughts. He looks up and meets the understanding eyes of his little girl.

"I wanted to go get ice cream, Grandma. Next time, I’ll make Dad bring him over and introduce him! When we get back, I’ll tell you if his friend is handsome or if he looks like Jung-bae."

The response makes Gi-hun burst into laughter, unable to help but notice where Ga-yeong gets her sense of humor from. The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree. Even Mal Soon seems to have thought the same.

His mother rolls her eyes, smiling despite trying to maintain a serious expression, and says goodbye to both of them.

"Hopefully, he’s a good and hardworking person. Being handsome isn’t everything in life." is the last thing she says before disappearing through the door, which closes with a faint hiss from the rusty hinges.

Seong internally thinks that Young-il is all three things equally. Not only is he kind to everyone around him, including Gi-hun himself, but he also works hard to keep his business afloat and is extremely handsome. He has that natural, magnetic charisma and effortlessly wins people’s affection. Gi-hun has seen the way women look at him: almost devouring him with their eyes. He can’t blame them, as he has eyes and knows his friend and boss’s attributes. His hazel eyes, smooth and warm skin, broad shoulders and back, that waist that stands out when he decides to wear slightly tighter dress pants... Yes, Seong can confirm why the girls who visit the restaurant end up sighing every time they see Young-il. And he thinks that if they had him close, they’d fall even harder, all thanks to the cologne he wears. Though he also has to give credit to Oh’s natural scent.

"So, is he handsome?"

The mischievous look Ga-yeong gives him immediately wipes the smile off Gi-hun’s face. He knows that look—it’s the one she gets when she sees an idol on TV: sheepish eyes, pursed lips, and cheeks puffed up from the air she’s holding in.

"No," he lies, waving his hands exaggeratedly in front of Ga-yeong, as if that could dispel the cloud of flirtation his daughter is brewing. "No, he’s not. And he’s my age! He’s old!"

Ga-yeong mutters, "Your words, not mine," barely audible, and then goes back to the drawing she was about to finish.

In the end, she did choose flowers.

Gerberas¹. White and yellow. Adorning the corners of the pages with tiny hearts and sparkles.

When her dad peeks over to see her finished work, he claps and whistles, clearly proud of Ga-yeong’s talent, who has been taking painting classes. Gi-hun is grateful that the cheap, worn-out pencils he’s kept for her all these years have been enough, even if the tips splinter with just a little pressure and barely leave a mark on the paper.

"You should add a red one in the middle. It’ll look pretty," Gi-hun suggests.

Ga-yeong wonders if her dad knows the meaning of red gerberas, but she ends up agreeing to his request.

[...]

It’s 3:15 when the two arrive at the park where he’s arranged to meet Young-il: sweaty and tired, they had to run to make it on time. Or at least not too late... Gi-hun fears that Oh might have gotten tired of waiting for him (he’s an adult, being late to a date isn’t mature or responsible!), but the man is there, in the middle of the red bridge at Balbadak² Ecological Park. The shorter man hasn’t noticed the presence of father and daughter yet, as he’s looking straight ahead, not to the sides. His head moves slightly from side to side, giving the impression that he’s searching for something, or rather, someone. He’s wearing khaki pants, black loafers, and a white turtleneck shirt with the sleeves rolled up.

"Is that him?" whispers Ga-yeong, tugging on Gi-hun’s clothes to make him bend down to her height. "He’s handsome!"

Gi-hun has to bite his tongue to avoid confirming Ga-yeong’s words. It’s harder than he thinks, especially when they finally approach Young-il.

"Gi-hun!" he greets, giving him a warm smile. Then he looks down at his daughter, who has unconsciously hidden behind Seong’s arm, shy.

Shy, like all the women who meet Young-il.

"You must be Ga-yeong. Your dad has told me a lot about you."

Young-il then takes a few steps forward, closing the distance between them, and kneels in front of Ga-yeong: wood, vanilla, warmth. Seong has to suppress the sigh threatening to escape his lips at the scent emanating from his friend’s body. However, sweet Ga-yeong can’t hold back the squeal she lets out when Oh gently takes her hand and gives her a tender kiss; a gesture of courtesy, of chivalry. Seong’s mind races faster than he wants, and he ends up imagining if Young-il would be willing to give him that kind of greeting too. He dismisses the thought immediately, long before he has time to feel his face heat up from the embarrassment of what that idea implies.

"Seong Ga-yeong, nice to meet you," she manages to say after much effort, as her initial shyness begins to fade, though Gi-hun can feel the rapid pulse of the hand she’s holding. Her heart is racing, and at some point, he can’t tell if it’s her heartbeat or his own...

"Oh Young-il," Oh finally stands up, slowly releasing Ga-yeong, who lets her arm fall limply to her side. "Did you plan a lot of fun things?"

He feels Young-il’s eyes piercing him, eager to finally hear Gi-hun’s voice, who has remained silent since they arrived at the park; the hazel color in his iris is distracting him, pulling him away from any coherent thought he might be able to form (none, really). He tries not to focus too much on how Young-il’s clothes cling to his body, or his hair dampening the little skin visible on his neck... Much less does he think about him applying cologne in front of the mirror in his, most likely, elegant bathroom. Not in the pale light that must have bathed him, still wet and wearing only a towel around his waist.

"T-that’s the plan," he responds, his voice hoarse, and he needs to clear his throat to keep speaking without feeling like he’s choking on his own saliva. "That’s the plan! I prepared a few things. Ga-yeong has the itinerary. Do you want to see it?"

"I’d love to. Can I see it, Ga-yeong?"

Gi-hun’s daughter nods, much faster than she initially planned, and hands him the sheet they carefully folded and placed in a pink envelope. It’s only then that Gi-hun realizes it looks like a letter. They even thought sealing it with a heart stamp would be a great idea: now, Seong isn’t so sure about that.

Young-il takes it, spends a few seconds examining it carefully, seeming to appreciate Ga-yeong’s crafting skills. There’s not a single wrinkle, neither on the envelope nor on the letter itself. Oh handles everything with extreme care, leaving the stamp intact, and when he finally takes out the content, he unfold it with absolute patience: he reads point by point, his eyes scanning every word Gi-hun has written, and stops at the flowers Ga-yeong chose to decorate it. The red one, in the middle and at the very top, catches his attention immediately.

"Is my handwriting ugly?" Seong asks, barely a whisper, breaking on the last syllable, because he’s afraid Young-il is having trouble understanding what he’s written and that, perhaps, that’s why he’s taking so long.

In complete silence, Young-il goes over the entire page one last time, appreciating every detail he can catch. Like the color combination in the gerberas, yellow and white contrasting with the dark brown of the center, as well as Gi-hun’s neat handwriting, which, undoubtedly, doesn’t seem like it would come from him. The page is completely white, without lines to guide him, and yet, he’s managed to keep the text straight and orderly.

"No, it’s not. I like it. It’s pretty" the words echo in Gi-hun’s ears, who can finally smile again, relieved.

"Don’t lie! I hate lies, Young-il."

Oh folds the paper again and puts it back in the pink envelope, which he then slips into one of his pants pockets, careful not to wrinkle or tear it in the process.

"I’m not lying, Gi-hun. You have beautiful handwriting, and you, Ga-yeong," Young-il turns to look Ga-yeong in the eyes. Again, the blush appears on her little cheeks as she’s observed by the man. "You’re extremely talented. Those gerberas turned out beautifully."

Seong’s daughter widens her smile, lets go of her dad, and leans toward Oh, clasping her hands and jumping up and down with joy.

"Do you know gerberas? Do you like flowers?"

Young-il nods.

"They’re my favorite. They remind me of my wife."

Gi-hun’s chest tightens painfully at the memory of his wife. He has a wife. He shouldn’t have forgotten, and yet he’s surprised to have basically erased her from his mind all this time he’s been thinking about Young-il. A lucky woman. Gerberas. Young-il had told him about the bouquets of those flowers he’s given her on each of their anniversaries. How could he forget? Though there are more doubts swirling in Gi-hun’s head, some he tries to push away and hide from himself: Should he have brought him one of those bouquets, if they’re his favorite? Would it have been weird? Would he have accepted it? Can a man do that kind of thing for another man?

"Oh," Ga-yeong looks slightly disappointed, maybe she’s also forgotten that Gi-hun mentioned he’s married. She recovers immediately, unlike Seong, who still struggles to clear his conscience. "Maybe we should stop by some to bring her!"

"Another time, sweetie. For now, we should continue with your dad’s elaborate plan. Ice cream first, then?"

As Gi-hun wraps his arm around his daughter’s shoulders, the three of them start walking across the bridge they’re on: Young-il on one side of Seong, his hand brushing against his. The slight contact sends a shiver down Gi-hun’s spine, who can’t pull away; Oh’s index finger hooks around his thumb and pulls it gently, carefully, until they inevitably end up holding hands.

Is this how friendships work? Gi-hun wonders.

Then he remembers Sang-woo again. The protective way he always surrounded him after their stupid arguments. He remembers when they’d sneak off to the neighborhood park, fearing their mothers would lock them up at home to keep them from wandering around. He recalls when Cho would also take his hands and place them near his chest, the way he could feel his heart racing...

"What’s your favorite ice cream flavor, Young-il?" Seong asks, trying to let himself enjoy the anchor Oh provides, to help him forget those memories. To tuck them back into the box of forgotten things he’s created, especially for Cho Sang-woo.

"Chocolate. What about yours?"

"That’s Dad’s favorite too! I like strawberry, and Grandma likes vanilla, so if you ever meet her, you’ll have to buy neapolitan ice cream."

Young-il lets out a soft laugh. His grip on Gi-hun tightens, almost imperceptibly.

"I’ll keep that in mind then. Neapolitan... One of you two will have to share with me, because your dad probably won’t leave me much chocolate ice cream. Have you seen how fast he eats? And he eats so much (it’s a relief, I usually don’t finish my food, so Gi-hun finishes it for me)."

Oh’s comment makes Seong’s face burn with embarrassment. Reflexively, he tries to raise his hand to point at him accusingly, but Young-il stops him: his grip is firm. Ga-yeong is unaware of the contact the two men are having, too amused by how Oh is teasing her dad, who already gets embarrassed easily.

"Do you eat together?" she asks, not trying to hide her curiosity. Of course they eat together, they’re coworkers. That’s the logic Gi-hun expects Young-il to use, though his response makes him tremble.

"Of course, I try to make time so we can eat together. I like watching him eat. He spends a lot of time complaining about traffic and showing me pictures of you, new or old. Your dad loves you a lot; he likes to show you off."

For Ga-yeong, however, it brings a lump to her throat, and the corners of her eyes itch from the tears threatening to escape. She knows her dad loves her; she’s never, ever doubted it. But those little, tender actions make her sad and happy in equal measure: she wishes she could spend more time with him, though she’d hate to cause him trouble, and her mom has always refused due to her dad’s financial instability—something she doesn’t hide from her. Seong Ga-yeong is also grateful to Young-il, not just for his kind words, but also because, perhaps, thanks to him, she’ll be able to spend more time with Gi-hun.

And the two, Ga-yeong and Young-il, in invisible sync, press closer to Seong. He also feels his eyes water from the emotion of the moment... An emotion he never expected to feel when he innocently invited Oh to spend Valentine’s Day with them.

───

Gerberas¹: Nothing to add in particular... wink wink Balbadak Ecological Park²: It's a park located in Ssangmun-dong. I thought it was appropriate to look for a real one because, well, that's just how I am, haha.

[moon-heart22]

Captured

Warning: Minors do Not interact, brutal death, killing, smut

It's strange how life can change so quickly without you even realising it.

I wanted to spend my holiday alone. I have never liked being around people, so it was only logical that I chose my grandparents' house in the middle of the forest. It was old, but it had everything I needed.

On the way there, my friend called me and asked me if I really wanted to be alone in the forest. To be honest, that might be scary for some people, but I told her I was fine and would call her if anything happened. She did not seem pleased and hung up after a while of talking.

I reached my grandparents' house and opened the front door. The door cracked as I opened it and a familiar smell hit my nose. I have missed being here so much, it feels like my grandparents are still here looking after me. It's been a year since they died mysteriously and no one knows what happened. Their bodies have never been found and there is no sign that they are really dead.

I close the door behind me and shake my head. Everything is still where it was on my last visit last year, before they disappeared. My grandmother's old books are gathering dust and I have to smile. She collected so many random books like a book dragon. Grandma read a lot, but never really because she was so anxious to get more books.

One book catches my eye. "Deities and Creatures"

I pick it up and run my fingers over the cover, which is strangely not as dusty as the other books on the shelf. I get goose bumps, but I shake off the feeling. I put the book back and concentrate on making myself comfortable.

Soon it's 9 pm and I am sitting on the couch watching TV. I used to watch TV with my grandmother, while my grandfather always complained that we should spend more time outside instead of in front of the TV. I often find myself wishing I had spent more time with them, but I can not help it now.

I get hungry and get up when I suddenly hear a loud bang from outside. A strange feeling creeps over me, but I ignore it. It must have been an animal or something else. I am in the house, I am safe. At least that's what I tell myself over and over again.

I am now standing in the kitchen eating a sandwich. I have already forgotten about the loud bang and am just concentrating on the food. A bad habit I had was eating, eating when I am feeling bad, scared, stressed…

My gaze goes to the kitchen window and I have the feeling that I am being watched. Once again I shake my head and try to shake off this strange feeling and take a deep breath. It's just nothing. Everything is fine, I am safe. I whisper to myself again and again. I decide to close the curtains on the kitchen window. My heart almost stops when I see white eyes light up, which disappear again as I get closer to the window.

I immediately draw the curtains and place my hands on my chest. My heart races and I try to think of something else, hoping it will distract me. It does not and I run to all the windows and doors to make sure they are closed. Luckily for me, they are and I take another deep breath.

Then I hear a knock and someone shouts. I feel my heart stop and the blood in my veins run cold. "Help me! Help me!" the voice screams and I hold my breath. I run back into the kitchen and grab my butcher's knife. I slowly approach the front door and my lips part, but I can not muster the strength to speak.

"Please…" the voice sounded like a man and I walk closer to the door. My heart is racing and I finally manage to speak. "Who are you? What happened to you?" my voice shakes as I speak and I hear the man inhale sharply. He seems to be injured because he is groaning in pain. "I got hurt, please help me," he sounds desperate, almost pleading.

I stand in front of the door and lean my ear against it. I do not really know what I am trying to achieve, but I listen. "I have a knife, so if you try anything or lie, you are dead," I warn him and he grunts in response. I unlock the door and open it. He rushes in and is wounded in the chest. I pull him into the house and lock the door again.

"Thanks, I thought you wouldn't open the door," he whispers and looks me in the eye. His eyes are brown and he looks dirty, as if he hasn't washed for a long time. "If you try anything stupid, I'll hurt you," I threaten and he chuckles. There are deep cuts on his arm and on his chest too. I help him to sit down on the couch, my knife still in my hand.

"You know, I'm kind of scared of you. When you hold the knife like that, I think you want to stab me," he chuckles and leans back as he closes his eyes. I still have the knife with me and go to the first aid kit. I start to clean his wounds and bandage them. "How did this happen?" I ask him and sit down on the chair opposite the couch.

He lets out a sigh and touches his arm. He licks his lips and opens his eyes again to look at me. They glow white for a brief second and then immediately turn brown again. It happens so quickly that I don't think much of it.

"I was attacked by a creature, a shame I…" he pauses before he finishes the sentence and shakes his head. He yawns and rubs his eyes. "If you don't mind, I want to sleep now," is all he says before closing his eyes and falling asleep on my couch.

I shake my head anoyed and walk to my bedroom and lock the door. I call my friend and tell her everything that happend today. "You're crazy no way i am letting you alone! I come and get you," she says and stops the call before i can say anything.

I try to sleep, but I can't because I hear a loud crash from the kitchen. I immediately sit up in my bed and look for the butcher's knife. Crap. When I went into my bedroom, I must have forgotten to take it with me. I reach for my phone, unlock my bedroom door and walk into the kitchen.

I hear growling and as I leave, the floor cracks and the growling stops immediately. I freeze and listen, my heart races in my chest and I hold my breath. When I finally pluck up the courage to go into the kitchen, I see the strange man standing there. He's smiling at me, his mouth is full of sauce and he's holding a sausage in his hand.

"What the hell! You scared the shit out of me, you ass!" I shout angrily and try to snatch the sausage out of his hand. He backs away and barks at me. His teeth seem strangely sharp and I pause in my movements. "I was hungry … and don't call me an ass. Call me Adrian," he growls strangely and I look at him angrily.

I want to throw him out of the house, but when I look at him, I feel sorry for him. He looks like he's in pain and seems out of his mind. "Listen Adrian, this is weird, don't get me wrong, but you're scaring me. Could you please sit on the table. I don't mind if you finish eating. But please ask me before you take any food out of the fridge," I say, holding my nose.

I am tired and when Adrian sits down and chews on the sausage like a wild animal, I am disgusted. He seems to have no manners at all and I feel not safe in his presence. I look at the fridge and the next shock runs through me. He really has rummaged through the whole fridge. There's a lot of food on the floor and I sigh. I go into the kitchen and start to tidy everything up.

When I am done, I take a wet cloth and walk towards Adrian. He's still busy eating and startles me. It's as if I am not even here. As I approach him, he finally seems to notice me and looks up. His eyes meet mine and a scream catches in my throat. His eyes are white, his teeth are razor-sharp and instead of fingers he now has claws.

Just at that moment, I hear a loud knock on my door. "Hello, open the door! I swear to God, I will break the door if you do not open it!" my friend shouts. Adrian growls and warns me not to open the door. But I am scared and the first thing I do is run. I run to the door, open it and jump into my friend's arms.

"We have to go!" I shout, grab her hand and run to her car. My friend follows me without complaining and she starts screaming when she sees what's running after us. I do not dare turn around, but the screams and the animalistic noises the creature makes are enough for me. We reach my friend's car and lock ourselves inside.

I feel like crying, and my friend starts crying as she tries to start the car. "We are going to die!" she screams and her car starts. I look outside and try to see where the creature is, but I can not see anything. As she drives off, we hear a loud crash and the car stops. "What was that?" she asks me, startled, and I look at her.

My friend holds my hand and I try to calm her down. "It's going to be okay," I whisper, holding back my tears. I am so scared that I can feel my heart racing in my ears. I look over her shoulder out the window and then I see it. Horns and white eyes staring straight at me. The creature's face is a skull and its claws are touching the window. I scream and my friend turns around and screams too.

The creature rips the door open and my friend and I start kicking the monster. It growls and screams angrily, grabs my friend by the foot and drags her out of the car. "No! Please!" she screams and grabs my hand, whereupon we are both pulled out. I cry and my friend starts screaming because the monster is biting her foot. "No! Let her go!" I scream and lunge at the monster. It growls and pushes me to the ground.

"If you do this again, you will be dead next," the creature growls in a strangely familiar voice. Holy shit. Of course it's Adrian. Why do I have to be so stupid and let monsters into my house. I will think about it later, if I get out of here alive. I kick Adrian, or at least I think I do, I am not sure, and he growls again.

"Die you sick fuck!" I hear my friend scream and she hits him in the face with a stone. His skull makes a cracking sound and he gets off of me, only to attack my friend and bite into her throat. I see her trying to free herself and she crys. Then he rips of her head. "No! You bastard", i scream and run towards him punching his back.

He growls again and pushes me down on the ground. Blood drips down on my face from his skull and he opens his mouth. A bloodied tongue darting out and licking of the blood from my face. I already feel dead. I wish he would kill me and end this fucking horror show but he doesn't. He smiles down at me when he cleaned my face.

"Get up. Go back into the house", he demands and gets of off me. I crawl away and see him starting to eat my friend. "No!", i scream and want to throw up. He turns around and looks angry at me. "I wouldn't say it again", he warns me. I cry and somehow make it back to the house. I feel so sick and throw up on the porch.

I cry and all i want to do now is to die. How could this happen. I think about Adrian or whatever he is eating my friend right now and i nearly vomit again. Something inside me starts to burn and i guess it's anger. I get up my legs shaking and i lock the door behind me. I am going to killl this fucking creature. I search for the butcher knife and while i do i hear loud knocking comming from the front door.

"Open up little mouse," Adrian growls. He sounds angry. Well i am also angry. I don't answer and the knocks turn into banging. "Open the fucking door! Don't make me more angry mouse," he warns me. I find my butcher knife and get to the door. "No, please don't be angry. I...will open the door," i whisper and hold my butcher knife up. I only have one change and i don't give a shit anymore.

Adrian sounds happy and probably thinks he has wone. When i open the door, he is normal human looking but covered in blood. I scream and stab him with the knife. He screams and pushes me into the house. "That was a mistake little one," he growls and changes. Horns and a skull are now there instead of his face and instead of his fingers claws.

He pulls the knife out of his chest and throws it to the ground. I try to get up but he is faster and pushes me down. "I wanted to do this differntly but it seems like i have to teach you how to behave," he chuckles and there is a dangerous under tone in his voice. His claws travel down my curves and i automaticly clench my thighs together.

"What the fuck do you want from me," i whimper and look up into his white eyes. His horns are brown and when i look closer at him he also has white fur. Around his neck are necklaces made out of wood. His claws dig into my thighs and he presses my thighs appart and puts my legs around his waist. "I want to eat you," Adrian whispers huskily and licks over my face. I look away and start to cry wich makes him laugh.

His snout nudges against my cheek and he licks over my cheek again. "Don't worry. Not in that way," he chuckles and licks over my cheek again. He rips my pants appart and i start to kick with my feet. "No! No you're not going to touch me!," i start to scream and whimper. He holds my feet down and snarls. He bites down on my shoulder as a warning and i stop to kick around. Only then he lets go and licks over my shoulder.

"I hate you Adrian! I hope you die!," i spit into his face and he only chuckles. His claws brush over my thighs and he rips of the rest of my clothes leaving me complitly naked infront of him. "I am so glad you're grandparents were ready to promise you to me. It's not like they had a choice though," he chuckles and his one hand holds my face while his other holds my hips. He licks down my chest over my nippels and over my lower belly. Dangerously close to my crotch.

My mind races and i whimper. I try to clench my thighs together and i want to bite his hand. I hate him so much and my grandparents would never do this. They loved me right? It makes him chuckle and he starts to part my folds. "Little mouse, you have to calm down. It will hurt if i can't prepare you like i should," he whispers huskily and his long tongue licks over my core.

I hate this feeling and it only seems to incite him even more. I hold my mouth closed to not make any sounds but my body betrays me. I feel my legs twitch and my core getting wet. I feel dead inside and want this to be over. Adrian growls happily while abusing my pussy with his tongue. My hatred for him only grows and i am not even sure if i am really here. I start to think like this is a nightmare.

He gently bites down on my clit and i whimper. "Did that hurt little mouse?," he ask sarcastically and his tongue pushes into me. I scream and start to fight back again. I feel my climax aproaching and my head is spinning. My hands grab his horns and he groans. My legs shake uncontrollaby and i reach my climax. He licks me clean and moves up to face me again. "Didn't that feel good my little mouse," he asks me and i feel his bulge pressing against me.

I feel so weak, so tired. When i don't respond to him he nudges me with his snout. "Did i make you cum so hard that you're tired now? Well i guess i let you sleep for now," he whispers and pulls me up and presses me against him. Adrian carries me to my bedroom and lays me down on the bed. He licks over the bite mark on my shoulder and smiles. The last thing that i see before i fall asleep are his brown eyes that look into mine and the last thing that i feel is him strocking my cheek.

I hope you enjoyed the story. I don't know if I can do a second part and please forgive me for my spelling mistakes. English is not my first language