#Team Timepiece

[kirric-the-fan]

Thought of the day: Did Toei pick the wrong season to start the otona precure with?

Theory: Precedent from original seasons set us up for disappointment with the way Y!5 otona precure panned out from the start.

And this is not talking about the character relationships or any of that.

Let me explain:

Context:

- Precure Yes!5 got an adult sequel season, for the first time in precure history. This also included Splash Star, and a visit from the original futari wa Max Heart trio in the final episodes, the three original precure teams. Going right back to their roots, the very start. All in all, it was big nostalgia bait. Nothing bad about that, but,

- The Yes!5 team was the main focus. By numbers, if nothing else. No questions about that either.

- As I mentioned before, there was a lot of nostalgia-bait, and it meant they included a lot of reused original transformation footage. Nothing wrong with that either. Sensible planning choice, good to sell all the old transformation items etc. I don't blame them. Might as well capitalise on it.

except...

- In all of precure history, there have only ever been two second seasons before otona precure kicked off. The first being Futari Wa Max Heart, and the second being Yes!5GoGo!

- The cures in both second seasons got outfit upgrades. The Yes!5 season got a change to transformation items too, perhaps, and somewhat subconsciously, setting a precedent, that new season=new transformations and items, even with the same characters.

Flash forward to the reveal of Power of hope precure full bloom, and we get a clear change in characters (they're adult now ofc they're going to change), and an opening (I think: I do need to check whether it was the op or ed that this was in as I can't remember off the top of my head) where the characters are seen catching timepieces that quite reasonably could be new transformation items.

Again, it could be subconsciously, but I think leading on from that, people were expecting new stuff in those other places like transformations and outfits. Or at least upgraded stuff. Which we obviously didn't get.

I don't think it was a bad thing, reusing original stuff as much as they did, I really don't, I just think that if they had done it with pretty much ANY other season first, even as a one-off, we wouldn't have noticed as much when it came to Full Bloom (and would have been on less of a downer on the season from the start).

Anyway, those are my thoughts. I'd be interested to know what you think.

tl;dr: We expected new transformations and items in otona precure bc Y!5 squad got them in previous seasons. Then it didn't happen.

[deepseamuse]

Me: I finally got Kokomi, now I have a character for which artifact grinding should be simple since she doesn’t need any crit! I’ll go try it out right now - I haven’t done the Ocean-hued Clam domain since it first came out, and there’s a decent chance I get something decent…

My artifacts:

That comic based on @fervency-if’s grouchy writings was more accurate than I could have known… clam hhhhhhh

[nounoustouzy]

MANCHESTER CITY WALL CLOCK

Every second counts! An exciting and practical accent in any room, this unique high quality Wall Clock serves as a statement piece, creating a personalized environment.

.: Materials: 100% wood (frame), 100% plexiglass (face), 100% metal (mechanism) .: One size: 10" x 10" (25.4 x 25.4 cm) .: Pre-installed backside hook .: For indoor use .: Requires one AA battery (NOT included) .: Silent clock mechanism.

Get it now from here

[reminiscingtonight]

Smooth Operator

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

[WOSO Masterlist]

Aitana’s smirking at you when you drop into the seat in front of her. You’re instantly dropping your face into your hands, wishing the ground would just come swallow you up. 

“What the hell was that?” Keira chuckles, giving you a gentle nudge. 

“What the hell was what?” you huff, shoving Keira back. 

“Nice shoes? Really?” Aitana tags on, joining in on the teasing. 

“I panicked, okay?!” you groan. 

Having joined the team in the last trade window, your best friend thought it would be a great idea to go explore nearby cafes in an effort to immerse you into the Barcelona culture a bit. Aitana tagged along just for funsies, but it was a clear coincidence that the three of you ran into Alexia. The Barcelona captain looked deep in conversation with her sister when the three of you walked into the shop, not even noticing you guys until Alba looked up and waved.

You’ve been enamored with Alexia long before you even joined the team. You’ve only ever had the chance to admire from afar, but it wasn’t until you actually saw her in action that your admiration turned into a feet stumbling, constant stuttering, blushing hot mess. 

You like to take pride in your smoothness, the way you can charm almost any person that crosses your path. Just in the latest national team camp you were voted most likely to talk their way out of a ticket. 

“A couple fluttered eyelashes and a well-placed laugh, who wouldn’t fall for her?”

If only your teammates could see you now. 

Every time you cross paths with the Spanish midfielder you’re grasping at the straws just to string along a coherent sentence. 

Alexia asks if you know the time? You blurt out that your phone is dead before diving behind Keira, ignoring the timepiece sitting upon your wrist. 

Alexia jokes that the Spanish sun is zapping away all of her energy? You trip seconds later, spilling your water all over her.

Alexia defends you in a drill? You stumble over the ball, missing it completely before taking Alexia straight to the ground.

No matter what you try to do, you always end up embarrassing yourself. 

Case in point just a few seconds ago. 

Being the pieces of shit they are, Aitana and Keira send you to order your drinks. Coincidentally Alexia’s back in line herself, ready to get another thing for her sister. 

You’re mentally rehearsing your orders when a gentle hand on your back grabs your attention. Alexia gives you a soft smile when you turn to face her. 

“How are you today?” 

Her english is heavily accented, but it’s nice how she tries to keep you engaged, knowing you’re still struggling through your catalan and spanish lessons.

Or it would be cute if you actually heard any of it, because the truth is anything she says after she flashes a smile your way goes right over your head. Your heart turns to goo, hands getting sweaty, throat going dry.

“You’re so pretty.” 

It’s a whispered comment meant only for your ears. But the second you realize you said it out loud rather than in your head like you intended, your face burns in embarrassment.

Thankfully, Alexia’s eyebrows furrow together, your quiet words difficult for her to decipher. 

“Què? I am sorry, I did not catch that.”

“I just-- I meant--” you fumble, desperately trying to find an excuse. “Your… shoes! Your shoes are very pretty! Very nice too!”

Your voice carries, definitely not meaning to be as loud as it comes out. It’s hard to miss the way Alba tilts her head curiously at the two of you and the way Keira and Aitana start giggling near the back of the shop.

Your face feels even hotter as you will for the line to go faster. The sooner you get out of here, the sooner you can stop embarrassing yourself. And the sooner you can strangle the two bozos masquerading as your friends. 

Alexia still looks confused but she nods. “I… uh, thank you? I think it’s a Nike one. Running shoes.”

Not trusting your mouth to say anything else, you slam it shut. You must look like a madwoman as you nod vigorously. 

You don’t miss the way Alexia gives you a concerned look, but then the barista is calling your name, saving you any more small talk.

A mumbled goodbye and you’re booking it back to your table as fast as you can without spilling any of your drinks.

---

You wish you could say things get better in the following days.

But you’d be a liar if you said that.

So far you’ve complimented Alexia’s club issued shorts, awed over her bare, unpainted nails, have even miraculously asked if she got a haircut (spoiler she did not). Every time you receive a confused look and a tentative thank you, two acts that make the urge to transfer clubs and never show your face again more and more tempting.

None of it amounts to anything until a few days later. 

You’re out getting drinks with the rest of your team after a successful game. You yourself had scored two goals, and Keira, ever the best friend she is, wanted to celebrate your first brace with Barca in style.

The first drink didn’t even last a whole minute. Keira had no choice but to watch you inhale your cocktail, somehow only managing to choke once. She’s lost for words when you also down the shot Mapi slides your way. Reaching across the table, you pick up Keira’s shot as well, tipping back your head before slamming the cup onto the table. 

It isn’t until you’re reaching for your fourth glass that Keira says something, hand quick to cover the drink before you can lift it. 

“Woah there, drink a little faster why don’t ya?” she teases, a silent question of concern underlying her words.

Shrugging her off, you’re quick to down your third shot. “I need a little bit of liquid courage,” you huff, fighting back a wince at the burn.

“Liquid courage for what?” 

Keira’s question is quick to be answered when a shadow falls over the two of you. Keira’s hand is quickly replaced with those of your captain, Alexia not looking too amused to see you drinking so much alcohol during the season. 

“Everything okay over here, chicas?”

She raises an eyebrow, almost daring you to give her a reason to snatch away the only thing keeping you sane at the moment.

Alexia’s obviously expecting a somewhat coherent explanation from you. Or even a half-assed stringed-along excuse. What she gets instead is--

“Will you go out with me?” you blurt out, instantly slapping your hands across your mouth the second the words come out.

Alexia pauses, looking at you with wide eyes. From all around, your teammates are choking on their drinks, clearly not expecting you to just blurt it out like that. 

Unlike their captain, everyone else on the team has been well aware of the affection you’ve been holding for the Catalonian. Ingrid has to elbow Mapi in the side to stop her from cackling, Pina in the same boat with Patri, the older woman nearly falling off her chair in laughter. Meanwhile, Alexia’s mouth opens and closes a couple times as if she can’t believe what she’s hearing. 

“You want to… go out with me?” She sounds confused, as if she can’t comprehend the thought of you being romantically interested in her. 

You’re half mortified, half exasperated that you said it the way you did, but you’ve shown your cards at this point so you might as well just roll with it. 

“This is embarrassing,” you mutter, eyes nervously darting around the room. “I’ve been trying to ask you out since like… day three of joining Barca.”

An unhelpful snort escapes Keira and she wither as you direct your glare towards her. 

But the anger is short lived as a soft finger curling under your chin has you raising your eyes back up to Alexia. Your captain looks amused, a small smile starting to settle on her face. “So you asking about my shoes a couple days ago was you trying to flirt with me?” 

The tease causes your face to flush even more red as you wince. “Yeah, that didn’t really come out the way I intended.”

The quiet laugh Alexia lets out should make you feel even more mortified, but you’re past the point of caring anymore. Now if only Alexia would grant you the mercy of a quick rejection you could finally let go and squash this giant hopeless crush of yours. 

“I’d love to go on a date with you,” Alexia chuckles, giving your cheek a fond pat. It’s done mockingly, really, but you can’t help but be endeared by the action. 

“Really?” You’d be embarrassed by how quick you light up but that would be the least embarrassing thing you’ve done all month so really you could care less.

“Really.”

And sure, you definitely see the way Keira halfheartedly slides a euro over to a gleeful Aitana, and yeah, Mapi’s definitely poking fun about how stupidly unsmooth you are but for tonight you’re the luckiest girl in Barcelona. 

Because you have a date with the Alexia Putellas. 

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[austinbutlerslovers]

Quick-Take

Label Mature 18+

Summary Austin is exhausted from jet lag on set for Breitling, his passion diminishing until your quick thinking gives him several minutes of clarity in his trailer.

🔗 Masterlist

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut❤️‍🔥 Austin devoted boyfriend • over worked• stressed• needs affection• Austin’s love language •supportive girlfriend • stress relief• quickie in a trailer• p in V• over a counter• don’t make a sound• semi private• Austin pleasure bonded • orgasm • cream pie•aftercare

Quick-Take

It’s a crisp morning in the middle of the desert, the Breitling timepiece photoshoot set busy with strained energy beneath a relentless sun.

Hills line the horizon around you, dotted with shrubs, as the vast, cloudless sky blazes overhead.

The crew hustles around, tweaking lights, and hollering directions, while Austin stands in the center of it all.

He’s dressed in blue jeans hugging his lean frame, a matching blue shirt tucked tight into the waist, secured with a brown leather belt

His outfit is rugged perfection, and you watch him shoot a few scenes, striding toward the camera with purpose, and when he turns to walk away his great ass in those jeans steals your focus entirely.

Austin looks hot, there’s no question, but his mood is completely off.Jet lag’s got him in a chokehold, you both arriving fresh off a red-eye flight thanks to his relentless career schedule, and his usual easy going charm is wearing thin under the exhaustion.

You’re off to the side, sipping water under a hanging tarp to beat the dry heat, keeping an eye on him.

He glances over with a little smile, hands on his hips, until it’s time for photos. Then he’s back to stern, his brows furrowed, jaw tight.

You can’t help but notice the way they frame his perfect side profile, broad shoulders tapering down to that slim waist, hand cocked on his hip accentuating the curve of his ass.

But as his eyes flicker with a weary squint, you know he’s about to crash, there’s no hiding it.

Every time the photographer calls, “Tilt your head, Austin,” or “Give me more intensity,” he complies, but his eyes scream he’s over it.

He’s in one of his moods, too polite to speak up, too tired to fake it fully. Still, he keeps it together, offering that sensual, yet slightly edgier look the camera craves, playing it cool like the pro he is.

The Breitling watch gleams on his wrist, catching the light with every forced pose, but the tension’s simmering just beneath the surface.

The photographer finally calls for a break, and Austin slinks over to the folding chair near you, his name bold across the back.

He slumps into it with a low groan, rubbing his temples, his brown hair a little over-gelled from the styling team’s earlier efforts and you slide in beside him, offering comfort any way you can.

“You’re killing it out there,” you say, keeping it light.

He glances up at you, and for a second, his guarded expression softens. A shy grin tugs at the corner of his lips, barely there but enough to make your chest warm. “Yeah?” he says, his voice low and gravelly from exhaustion. “Thanks. Feel like I’m running on fumes, though.”

“You’re hiding it well,” you say, giving him a playful glance. “Seriously, you look so good in this outfit Austin the blue denim is really working for you.” You confess your eyes trailing over him, lingering on the way the jeans cling to his thighs.

He huffs a small laugh, running a hand through his hair, and you catch the faintest flush on his cheeks. He’s still off, still wound tight, but you can tell he appreciates the effort. You just want him to shake off the gloom, to see that spark he usually carries. He’s too pretty to be this miserable.

You let your fingers trail up his shoulders, squeezing the tight muscles beneath his blue shirt as you lean in, your voice dropping softly. “You’ve got this,” you whisper, fingers sliding higher, tracing the line of his shoulders until you graze the edge of his collar.

He turns to you, his blue eyes soft with a quiet ache flickering in them. “I need you so damn much right now,” he says, his voice low and rough.

His words hit deep, a raw edge to them that tightens your chest, and before he can say more, the director calls for the next shot.

You squeeze his shoulder one last time, and he brushes your hand gently as he gets up.

You watch him walk through the desert heat, climbing up and sitting at the top of a ladder for the next shot, the sandy hills framing him perfectly.

He’s supposed to look brooding, focused, but instead he looks lost under the intense sun, reflectors glaring into his blue eyes, squinting hard, with his brows furrowed.

The photographer’s directions pile on, “Elbows on your knees,” “Hands too low, I need to see the watch, Austin,” “Too stiff.” Austin keeps correcting himself, but it’s not working his minds not in it, and his head dips low as he exhales a frustrated breath.

The director’s voice cuts through, sharp and measured. “Alright, let’s break for wardrobe and set up for the quick take shot.” He calls, and Austin climbs down, his composure cracked as he heads straight for you, defeat in his eyes.

You pull him into your arms, his solid body a little too warm as your hands rest on his jaw, drawing his blue eyes to meet yours. “What do you need, baby?” you ask softly.

“I can’t keep it together out here… just need a minute,” he responds, his voice hushed, and there’s no hesitation as he takes your hand, pulling you toward his silver Airstream trailer parked stabilized off in the sand.

His grip is firm, his pace hurried, like he’s chasing relief and you’re the only one who can provide it.

As soon as the door locks shut, sealing out the desert glare, he’s already spilling his desperate thoughts. “Fuck, babe, I can’t think straight,” he rasps, voice low and frayed.

He paces for a moment, restless, until you tease half-serious, “You want a quickie in the trailer?”

His eyes light up instantly. “Yes,” he says, and you feel a thrill surge through you as he closes the distance fast, pulling you into his arms as his lips meet yours in a fierce and hungry clash.

His tongue sweeps into your mouth, hot and insistent, tasting faintly of mint as he kisses you deeper, a starved groan rising from his throat. His hands grip your face, pulling you even closer, like he can’t get enough.

He breaks the kiss breathless, his hands spinning you around quick and pressing you against the front room counter. “Been losing my mind out there… need to fuck you so bad, it’s the only thing that’ll pull me together.”

You grin, voice teasing as you brace your hands against the edge, the cool metal digging into your palms. “This is the big plan? Screwing me senseless to survive this shoot?” you say, breathless with a playful edge.

“Hell yes,” he says his voice tense, fumbling with his belt in a frantic rush, the brown leather clinking wildly as he yanks it loose.

His fingers snag the zipper of his jeans, tugging it down in one sharp pull as he shoves the denim low enough to free himself.

His cock springs out, thick and hard, and he hikes your skirt up with a rough pull. “Need you… fuck, I need you so much,” he groans, yanking your panties down, exposing your ass to him. His fingers grip your thighs, spreading you open with a low groan, his tip already slick as he presses it against you.

You bite your lip to stifle a whimper, the trailer walls thin enough to make you both hyper-aware of the crew milling a distance away outside. He lines himself up, nudging against you before he pushes in, thrusting deep in a hurried rush that slams his hips into yours.

Your fingers dig into the counter, a quiet, “Mmm,” slipping out despite your best efforts, the pleasure spiking fast as a choked off sound escapes him and he settles inside, the tight heat of you swallowing him whole.

His body jolts, a shudder ripping through him, and he presses himself closer, pulling you against him, his breaths jagged against your neck. “So good..need you so fuckin’ much,” he says softly, his voice breaking as he clings to you, his hands roaming you with an insatiable need.

He’s not gentle or rough, just desperate, and he thrusts into you fast and messy, like he’s chasing salvation. His hands slide up your sides, cupping your breasts through your shirt, squeezing hard enough to make you arch into him. “Can’t get enough of you,” he pants, fingers trailing back down to dig into your hips, pulling you tighter against him as he thrusts, harder, deeper, his belt clinking sharply with every snap of his hips.

Soft whimpers spill from you, your pleasure washing over you as you melt into his touch, a quiet “Oh, Austin” slipping past your lips in a breathy plea.

He groans low, loving how you sound, his breaths catching against your ear, each one a rough whisper of his need as he loses himself in you.

The denim of his jeans chafes against your thighs, the zipper’s teeth grazing your skin as he drives into you faster with a frantic need.

You both try to keep it quiet, stifling moans, but it’s a losing battle. He’s fucking you like he’s trying to empty every ounce of stress into you, and your meeting him on every thrust, your brains melting in the heat of pleasure.

His cock slides inside you, thick and pulsing, hitting the spot that makes your knees buckle, and he clamps his hand over your mouth muffling the loud moans falling from lips. “You want everyone to hear what I’m doing to you?” he asks and you shake your head, breathless.

He groans low and stifled, the sound vibrating against your spine, and you can tell he’s trying to bite down on his noise, satisfying you while losing himself completely.

His pace turns erratic, thrusting wildly, your body rocking hard with the force of it. His hand leaves your mouth, gripping your hips, squeezing your ass, trailing back to your breasts to pinch and knead your nipples.

Your head tilts back, choked-off sounds escaping your throat as your walls tighten and flutter around his cock, clenching him tight in the heat of pleasure.

“Please, baby, come for me,” he whispers, voice shaking with need. “I need it…need to feel you, need to know how good you feel on my cock.”

His thrusts turn relentless, so fast your body shakes, a trembling mess as he pounds into you. His fingers slip down, rubbing your clit in tight circles in time with his hips, and a loud moan escapes you as you come, your walls clenching hard around him

His hand covers over your mouth again, stifling the little sounds spilling from you, and he groans in pleasure, his breaths releasing in quick, uneven bursts against your neck.

You can feel the weight of the day slipping off of him, each shuddering exhale carrying away the tension that’s been crushing him.

His hands suddenly drop to your hips, anchoring himself as he comes with a deep, shaky groan that echoes in the small space. He buries his cock deep, hips stuttering, as a guttural, “Fuck,” slips out before he can stop it.

His cock throbs inside you, spilling hot and thick, and the feel of it, him letting go and filling you up, sends a shiver through you.

His hands grip your ass, pulling you flush against him as he rides it out, chest heaving, lazily drawing you closer with each slowing thrust. He rests his head against the side of yours, his soft sighs of relief slipping from him warm and quiet against your skin.

“Feeling better?” you grin, breathless, your voice light with a tease.

He lets out a winded laugh, pulling out slowly and tucking his cock back into his jeans with trembling fingers. “Yeah,” he rasps, his voice soft and wrecked, “Much better.”

He turns you to face him, and he kisses you, his lips brushing yours with a tender, lingering press before he pulls back, his shy smile breaking through.

“You’re so good to me,” he praises, his voice warm and low, and you grin, catching the spark flickering back into his eyes.

Your hand presses gently against his jaw. “The quick shot, baby,” you remind him, and his face shifts with a determined nod, focus snapping back into place.

He quickly peels off the blue shirt and jeans, tossing the clothing onto a chair in the corner of the trailer.

You fix yourself up while he puts on his second outfit, a crisp white tee that hugs his frame just right and a pair of sleek black jeans that make him look effortless.

He pulls everything on, running a hand through his hair, then he turns to you with an eager expression awaiting your approval.

You step closer, tilting your head as you take him in. “You look great, very vintage Austin,” you tease, grinning as your hands trail down the front of his tee.

He chuckles, ducking his head with his shy edge creeping back into his smile. “You think so?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stepping around him to grab his guitar from its stand in the corner.

The sleek acoustic has been sitting there all morning, untouched, and you hold it out to him. “Why don’t you bring some of you into this shoot? It’d go perfect with the Breitling vibe, timeless and classic, but with your edge.”

His eyes light up, and he takes the guitar from you, fingers brushing yours as he does. “That’s… actually a really good idea,” he says, his voice lifting with a spark of excitement.

He strums a soft chord testing it out, and you can see the gears turning. “Yeah,” he says, nodding to himself. “Yeah, I’m feeling that.”

He looks at you, and before you can react, he steps in close, cupping your chin with one hand and pressing a kiss on your lips full of gratitude.

His thumb brushes your cheek as he pulls back,“You’re a genius, you know that?” he says, his voice lifting with a smile “Thanks for pulling me out of my head.”

You laugh, a little breathless. “I just want you to have some fun out there.”

He grins full-on this time, no hesitation and heads back out to the set, guitar in hand.

You trail behind, watching as he takes charge. “Hey,” he calls to the crew, “can we get my bike out here? The black one behind the trailer?”

The team scrambles, and soon enough, the sleek motorcycle is rolled into the frame, its chrome glinting as the crew works to set up the lighting.

Austin sits on the couch in front of his trailer as he waits with the natural swagger he’s got locked down. He strums a few chords on his guitar, loose and easy, letting his fingers dance over the strings.

The photographer catches it, snapping away as the videographer joins in, rolling footage while Austin glances over at you with a playful smile.

You cross your arms, grinning back, and he adds his own flair tilting his head just so, the Breitling watch flashing as he shifts his grip on the guitar.

Once the bike is set up Austin sets the guitar down against the couch as the makeup and hair artists swoop in for a final touch-up, dabbing his face and tousling his hair a bit more.

Then he pauses, a new idea sparking in his eyes as he ducks into his trailer, emerging moments later with one of his favorite leather jackets.

He shrugs it on, the fit snug across his shoulders, as he strides toward his motorcycle parked in the middle of the set.

The crew watches, hooked, as he moves with purpose, posing  with one hand on the bike’s handlebar, the other crossed over his chest, fingers splayed to showcase the Breitling watch perfectly, the sleek metal glinting in the light.

Then, he shifts, planting both hands on the handlebars, standing in a wide, commanding stance over the bike, legs braced in the sand, exuding raw confidence.

The crew’s eating it up, and you can tell he’s back in his stride, as the shoot transforms into something alive, something him, raw, cool, and effortlessly authentic.

By the time they call it a day, the photos are gold. The photographer’s buzzing about all the shots and footage they’ve done, and Austin is practically glowing with that quiet pride he carries.

He walks over to you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby,” he says, his voice warm as he presses a kiss to your temple. “Breitling’s gonna owe you one.”

You laugh, leaning into him, the familiar weight of his arm grounding you. “I’m just happy to see you happy,” you confess, and his grin widens, soft and real.

With the stress melted away, he’s back to being the Austin you know full of charisma and charm, just needing a quick moment of clarity to be himself.

END 👖

🔗 Masterlist

🏷️ Always Tag Me List @purejasmine @burnthheparaphilia @butdaddyilovehim99 @austinbutlerfly @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @lindszeppelin @abswifey @aust-een @umika @feralgodmothers @megangovier @magicovento @obsessedvibee @austiebuttbutt @faegoddessog @dunevitani @unicoo @thejoywillburnoutthepain @jessica987 @slowsweetlove @hardcoredisneynerd @finley-08 @thegabbyh @thefallofthedamned @buckysteveloki-me @bucking-mustangs-with-wings @shegatsby @darlingisntit @lovereadingfanfic @denised916 @shockercoco @minispice-1 @i5uckersblog @ughdontbeboring @meetmeatyourworst @avidreader73 @xxmandaveexx @mamawiggers1980 @12joeywheelerfangirl @imjustheretoreadsmuthaha @gravesdiggergirl @nostalgichoya @stars-remain2 @skulliecadaver-blog @jjubilee-fluff

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Sparks at the Starting Line ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Welcome to the start of my brand new Lando smau that I can’t wait to work on! The Franco one got really good feedback so I thought why not work on this as well? I hope you guys enjoy reading! As always, don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support to me and other writers.

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

liked by gracieabrams, evejobs and others

laurant.yn upper east sider goes downtown

littlefoxhermes gorgeous girl x

— laurant.yn says you omg

ivygetty 💋

@gridglamore y/n laurant is all smiles in the paddock today. if she’s the new face of f1 weekends, i’m here for it

@formula1glam why does y/n laurant showing up to an f1 race feel like the start of a scandal waiting to happen? 😂

@racingteatime the way y/n laurant blends into the paddock like she’s been there forever… is she about to become an f1 staple or what?

The Miami sun glints off the mirrored glass of the paddock buildings as you step out of the car, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

Dressed in a breezy white linen dress with delicate gold accents, you feel the Florida heat wrap around you.

A light breeze tousles your hair as you adjust your oversized sunglasses, scanning the bustling paddock.

It’s not your usual scene, but you’re here on assignment—filming content for Richard Mille, one of the sport's luxury sponsors.

As you make your way to the designated filming area, the hum of engines fills the air, a sound both foreign and thrilling.

You don’t know much about Formula 1—just enough to recognize the intensity around you. But you’re not here for the cars; you’re here to do your job with the same grace and precision expected of you in any setting.

Inside the hospitality suite, a member of the Richard Mille team walks you through the schedule.

Your first task is a video shoot showcasing their latest timepiece, shot against the vibrant energy of the Miami paddock.

“We’ll head to the pit lane for the second segment,” they explain, and you nod with a polite smile, even as you internally wonder what, exactly, a pit lane is.

When you’re introduced to a McLaren staff member who’ll escort you around the paddock, you greet them warmly, extending a hand.

“Thank you so much for helping me today,” you say, your tone sincere.

They seem momentarily taken aback by your elegance but quickly recover, leading you toward the garage.

The crew captures footage of you walking gracefully through the paddock, pausing to greet staff and smile for the camera. A mechanic hands you a small, futuristic-looking object.

“This is the steering wheel,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, wow,” you reply, carefully holding it.

“I had no idea they were so compact. It’s incredible how much goes into this.”

Your genuine interest catches him off guard, and he starts explaining the intricacies of the wheel while the cameras roll. You listen intently, nodding at the right moments, grateful for the impromptu lesson.

Later, you’re seated elegantly on the pit wall, the Miami skyline shimmering in the background. The cars roar past, and you can’t help but jump slightly at the noise.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” you admit to the assistant beside you, flashing an apologetic smile.

As you step into the McLaren hospitality suite, the last of the day’s filming wraps up. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the paddock.

Your team moves quickly, gathering equipment and talking through the final shots of the day. You’re grateful for the calm moments now, as the noise and energy of the paddock begin to settle.

Just as you’re about to sit down with a refreshing drink, the McLaren social media team approaches.

“We’d love to get a few more candid moments with the drivers,” one of the team members says.

“Lando and Oscar are available for some content, and we thought we could get a group shot with you—would you be open to that?” You nod graciously.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you say, your smile effortless.

The social media manager gives you a quick rundown of the plans, and soon enough, Lando and Oscar approach, both wearing their team kits, looking sharp but casual in a way only drivers can manage.

Oscar, ever the charming one, greets you first.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve seen you around the paddock, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, giving him a warm smile.

“I’ve been so caught up with the filming, but it’s lovely to meet you as well, Oscar,” you reply, your voice calm and kind, a steady presence amid the chaotic energy of the paddock.

Lando arrives moments later, his usual smile wide but carrying a certain twinkle in his eyes. He greets you with a casual wave, but his gaze lingers for just a moment longer than usual.

You catch his eye and offer a friendly smile, completely unaware of the subtle tension building in the air.

“So, are we ready to film some magic?” Oscar says, trying to lighten the mood, his grin contagious.

You agree, letting the social media team direct you into position, arranging you, Lando, and Oscar for the group shots.

The team starts rolling, and as the cameras flash, Lando notices the way you stand, the ease with which you interact with everyone around you.

The way you talk, with that grace, without a hint of pretension. It’s nothing like what he’s used to, and yet, there’s something magnetic about you.

He can’t quite place it, but something in the way you laugh softly at Oscar’s jokes has him drawn in.

After the photos are done, the social media manager suggests a candid video of all three of you chatting.

You start discussing the race, asking them about their preparations, but Lando can’t focus on the questions. He’s too intrigued by how poised and composed you are, even in this chaotic environment.

Your voice is calm and thoughtful, and the way you listen to him intently makes him feel like the only person in the room.

“You know, it’s refreshing talking to someone who’s not trying to get the inside scoop or, you know, make a headline,” Lando says with a half-smile.

“You’re just... easy to talk to.”

You smile at the compliment, your eyes meeting his, and you simply respond, “I think it’s important to just enjoy the moment, don’t you?”

The sincerity in your voice hits him in a way he didn’t expect, and for a second, he forgets that he’s still wearing his bright orange team kit, surrounded by cameras and flashing lights.

There’s just you—graceful and effortlessly charming—and Lando can’t help but feel a shift in his chest.

Oscar, noticing the sudden tension between you two, steps in with a lighthearted comment to break the silence.

“Lando, I didn’t know you were such a deep thinker,” he teases.

You both laugh, and the atmosphere lightens again, but Lando can’t shake the pull he feels toward you.

As the social media team wraps up, you thank them for the experience, your tone polite but warm.

“It was fun working with you both,” you say, your gaze moving between Oscar and Lando, but it lingers on Lando just a moment longer.

Lando watches you walk away, your posture elegant even as you turn toward your team.

There’s something about you—something beyond the surface level—that keeps pulling him in, and he finds himself wondering just how much more there is to you than what meets the eye.

“Are you okay, mate?” Oscar asks, noticing the way Lando’s gaze follows you.

Lando blinks and clears his throat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah... just thinking about what she said. She’s got a good vibe.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it.

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

But Lando’s thoughts are elsewhere, and the idea of seeing you again keeps running through his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you cross paths again.

You set your phone down, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

This was your first glimpse into the fast-paced world of motorsport, and you couldn’t say you minded—not when the Lando Norris was already charming you in ways one could only dream about.

liked by laurant.yn, f1 and 3,125,632 others

lando WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

oscarpiastri well done man 👏 👏 👏

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

The crowd erupts into cheers as Lando crosses the finish line, taking the checkered flag and claiming victory at the Miami Grand Prix.

You find yourself clapping along with everyone else in the garage, swept up in the electric energy of the moment.

The roar of the fans, the team celebrating in the pit lane, and the sight of Lando standing atop his car with his arms raised in triumph—it’s all so overwhelming and surreal.

You’re not entirely sure why you feel so proud. You barely know him.

But as you watch him soak in the cheers, helmet in hand and grin wide enough to light up the entire paddock, you can’t help but feel a tug of admiration.

After the podium ceremony and the champagne celebrations, you find yourself in the McLaren hospitality suite, where the post-race buzz is in full swing.

Lando enters a few minutes later, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair still damp from the champagne.

He’s surrounded by team members congratulating him, and you hesitate for a moment before stepping forward.

“Lando!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of conversation. He turns toward you, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Y/N,” he says, making his way over, his smile as bright as ever. “Did you enjoy the race?”

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

“It was incredible. Congratulations! That was an amazing drive—you really earned it.”

“Thanks,” he replies, his tone warm but casual. “First time at an F1 race, and you get to see me win. Not bad, huh?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“Not bad at all. You set the bar pretty high, though—I don’t know if any other race will compare now.”

His grin widens, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something that lingers as he looks at you.

“I’m glad you were here to see it,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost as if the chaos around you has faded into the background.

The moment stretches just long enough for you both to notice it. Your smile falters slightly, not from discomfort, but from the realization that this feels... different.

You were here for work, for a brand, for a world you didn’t belong to, but somehow, this feels like more.

“Well,” you say, breaking the silence with a soft laugh, “I should let you get back to celebrating. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Wait,” Lando says quickly, as if he doesn’t want the moment to end. He hesitates for a second before adding, “Thank you. Really. It means a lot.”

You meet his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s an unspoken understanding between you.

Maybe this isn’t just a fleeting encounter. Maybe this is the start of something you didn’t see coming.

You smile one last time before stepping away, your heart a little lighter as you leave the suite. Behind you, Lando watches you go, his mind racing faster than it did on the track.

liked by lando, juliavalentineee and others

laurant.yn heart in miami x

lettiemng she’s glowing!

— laurant.yn love you!

francisca.cgomes 💋💋

alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

© soleilpinto 25’ -. no part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any manner without the permission from the publisher.

Taglist: @bakingpiastries @linnygirl09

[gumnut-logic]

“So, Virgil, all reports have you as the kindest and I quote ‘squishiest’ rescue operative in International Rescue. Your followers would like to know…” Kat peered down at her tablet. “How many kittens have you rescued from trees?”

The big man just stared at her. She had to admit, it wasn’t an every day question, but that was Tumblr for you.

“Umm…”

Alan snickered.

Scott frowned.

Gordon had a grin on his face fit to outshine the sun.

John rolled his eyes. “58.”

“Hey!” Virgil glared at his brother.

“Someone has to keep count.”

“Well, you’re wrong.”

The astronaut straightened in his seat, obviously affronted. “What?”

“It’s 86.”

“What?!”

“Not every one was on the clock, John. What was I supposed to do, leave them meowing?”

Scott facepalmed.

“Eos, you were told to monitor.” John frowned at his suddenly glowing watch.

A female voice snarked through the timepiece. “I have my reasons.”

“Reasons?”

“Virgil does do our supply runs, you know.”

John’s jaw dropped and Kat was hard up trying to keep a straight face.

Gordon wasn’t helping with all the giggling either.

“Virgil, I thought we had that under control.” Scott’s voice was ever so tolerant.

“I do! That is over ten years. That is only eight point six cats per year.”

Gordon snorted. “How do you save point six of a cat, Virg? Wouldn’t call that a successful rescue, bro.”

“On average. And besides, sometimes it was the same cat.”

All four of his brothers were staring at him.

Virgil squirmed where he sat. “Mr Fluffy got stuck several times.”

“Mr Fluffy!”

“I repeat, what was I supposed to do? He’s Parker’s cat.”

Scott facepalmed again as Gordon cracked up laughing enough to almost fall off his chair. John appeared to be arguing with his watch, and Alan was tennis-spectating between each of his bothers apparently not really sure how to react at all.

Kat couldn’t help but smile.

This was an interview of a lifetime and would make her career, but she had to admit it went beyond all that. The five brothers were being alarmingly candid and she was concerned that the interview wouldn’t make it past IR security.

Kayo had seemed nice enough on the ranch, but here in the studio…the woman’s eyes tracked everything. She had a team in the building, who knew where, and as a group they were nothing short of terrifying.

A little bit overkill, Kat thought.

It wasn’t like they could be overheard.

The Tracys had decided to attend the studio, but under the rigorous eye of their security…which had scoured the place clean. Only Kat, her tablet, and two holorecorders were allowed in the soundproof room. And all recording would be reviewed by that same security.

If Kat was attempting to gut the Tracys like she had originally threatened to, this might have been a problem, but as hinted on the ranch, they were not who she had thought they were, and their answers only drew her closer to the idea that perhaps the world didn’t really deserve this amazing family.

“Okay, Fish, you think I’m hilarious. How many times have we had to stop on the way home to save some sea life? Not that I begrudge you, life is life, but….hey, what is the difference between fish and cats?”

Wow, Virgil knew how to frown when riled up.

Gordon grinned, unrepentant. “Probably the tree part.”

Virgil folded his arms and totally grumped.

“Gordon?” Scott’s voice had an edge to it Kat had heard in the field.

Uh-oh.

“Yes, Scott?” Gordon appeared oblivious, but John had looked up from his watch and was frowning as much as Virgil.

“How much sea life are we talking about?”

Gordon blinked and maybe picked up on the eyebrows aimed at him. “Umm…”

Scott straightened in his seat. “Thunderbird Five, report.”

John rolled his eyes again. “We’ve spoken about this.”

“Are we including Tracy Island wildlife in this equation?” The pert young female voice spoke from John’s watch again. Really, it appeared to be a Rolex, as expected for a billionaire, but it was obviously something else.

“I want everything, Thunderbird Five.”

“Six thousand, four hundred and twenty-three, with a margin of error equal to several schools of tuna and one mola-mola.”

“Hey, I saved that mola-mola.”

“The mola-mola didn’t think so. It bit you.”

“Mola molas don’t bite.” But Gordon had his arms folded, much like Virgil now.

“I beg to differ. That was three stitches.” Virgil’s frown almost split his face in half.

“You’ve been injured?!” Scott was at full glare.

“I was doing my job!”

“Your job is to save lives, Gordon. We don’t have the resources to-”

Gordon waved an arm and nearly hit Virgil in the head. “A life is a life, Scott!”

“We can’t save everyone!”

Gordon shot to his feet. “But we can try. You’ve said it yourself many times.”

“Gordon-“ Scott rose to his feet.

Which prompted Virgil to stand up, one hand going to Gordon’s chest, the other to his advancing big brother. “C’mon, guys.”

Scott’s eyes darted to Kat and she stared wide-eyed up at him.

Gordon continued to glare as Virgil hustled him back to his seat.

“We will discuss this later.” Scott was pointing a very pointed finger at his aquanaut brother.

“Sit down, Scott.” Virgil turned his eyebrows on his eldest brother and the man backed off. He obeyed, but was still glaring, this time at Virgil.

Kat had no doubt that there would be an extended discussion on this subject in their future.

She also made a note to check on the mola mola issue. Could be something of value in that angle. Perhaps a one-on-one interview with Gordon and saving sea life.

The men settled down under the glare of Virgil in the middle. At this point, Kat was grateful she had set the chairs up the way she did. Scott was on her left, followed by John – who was glaring and mumbling at his watch again – Virgil, Gordon and Alan.

Alan appeared to be stuck on the outside of this little circus.

Maybe she could fix that.

“So, Alan, your fans are a rather active bunch.”

The young man startled, his eyes widening like he was stuck in a spotlight. “I have fans?” It came out an octave higher than she expected.

She smiled. “You most certainly do. A very active and solid group actually. We have a number of questions from them.”

“Oh, um, fire away.” His smile was brave at least.

Kat was ever so aware of the eyes of his four eldest brothers now currently targeting her.

She got the message. Be kind to the kid.

Or else.

“Okay. You are known as the astro brother.” She could have said ‘astro boy’ but her survival instincts nipped it in the bud. “Several people would like to know which star is your favourite?”

“Oh, that’s easy. Mom’s star.”

The room froze.

Not that anything actually changed. No one moved or said anything. But...

Something walked across Kat’s skin, raising her hackles.

She knew the Tracy’s had lost their mother early on. It didn’t take much to confirm that, it was public knowledge. Alan had been one at the time. He couldn’t possibly remember her.

“Which star is your mother’s star?”

It was John who answered. “Vega.”

Alan blinked in his direction and frowned. “I can talk about Mom’s Star, can’t I?”

There was silence for a moment.

“Yes, you can.” It was Scott and his voice was emotionless.

Scott had been sixteen. He most definitely remembered his mother.

“John used to take me up onto the roof of the farmhouse and we would stare at the stars for hours. Did you know that Vega has five confirmed planets?” And Alan started talking astronomy – the star’s distance from Earth, its gravity, spin, the whole bit. Alan obviously knew his stars well.

But Kat was stuck on those five planets and she couldn’t help but glance at the other four brothers, all of whom would have been affected by the loss of their mother.

They all had their professional faces on and she knew she had lost the relaxed atmosphere. She needed to get back to a lighter topic or risk losing this interview completely.

She glanced at her tablet and scrolled through the many questions awaiting an answer.

She grabbed one. “Do you ever wish on any stars?”

Alan blinked at her. “Uh…” But then he frowned, turning to Virgil. “Hey, how can 86 cats be over ten years, Eos has only been with us for three!”

Virgil’s eyes widened. “Uh…”

“Yeah, I see what’s happening here. And you!” He pointed at Gordon. “That means…”

Gordon glared at his little brother. “That means I’m doing my job.”

There was an uneasy silence after that. Scott had his eyes on her. Blue lasering her every movement.

Kat swallowed. She was a professional. She had handled presidents and prime ministers…

Electric blue reminded her of exactly who she was talking to now.

She looked away and down at her notes. “Okay, onto another topic.” She forced a smile. “Many of these questions relate to your love lives.”

All the brothers sat us straighter, shuffling in their seats.

Scott’s gaze redirected like the high beam it was, directly onto each individual brother.

She straightened her shoulders. “You’re listed as the five most eligible bachelors on the planet. Any lucky prospective partners?”

The silence was a gaping hole in the room.

“Scotty’s had a few.” Of course, it was Gordon.

Every brother glared at him.

He held up his hands in an attempt at total innocence. “Hey, I’ve been there! Virg, too!” He elbowed the heavy lifter in the ribs. “You said he asked that pilot lady out while hanging off a cliff.”

Virgil was frowning again.

Gordon rolled his eyes. “Johnny! You have to have numbers on that. How many phone numbers does he have in his little black book?”

“Gordon!” Scott, Virgil and John were almost symphonic.

That quirky female voice piped up again from John’s watch. “53.”

“Eos! Stand down.” The Commander’s voice struck out.

There was a high pitched ‘hmph’ from John’s watch and light from the device died.

Kat was hard pushed to ignore the flush on Scott’s face. Was that a touch of embarrassment?

But it was Virgil who spoke. “Ms Kavanaugh, certain sacrifices are made to do what we do. I would appreciate some understanding.” He elbowed Gordon in the ribs, obviously in revenge and a touch harder than friendly. “My brother knows this.”

Maybe there was a reason why this family hadn’t done a proper interview together before. Alan was staring at his brothers again, this time with something akin to fear on his face.

It was Gordon’s turn to frown and fold his arms across his chest.

Virgil glared at him. “Not funny, fish.”

“Just trying to help.”

Kat began to wonder if there was any footage that could be saved from this interview. At this rate she had nothing other than rescuing cats from trees.

“So why do you do it?” The question tumbled from her mouth without thought, not without a little exasperation.

All five brothers sat up straighter.

Scott. “Because when you-“

John. “-call for help-”

Virgil. “-you deserve to know-”

Gordon. “-somebody is out there-“

Alan. “-listening.”

They spoke together, over each other, but all with the same words. The passion in the room was a living thing and Kat could feel the purpose.

“This obviously means a great deal to all of you.”

A single nod from the Commander. The soft smiling big brother she had witnessed earlier was gone and what replaced him was ever so formidable.

The brothers may play around, but underneath it all were five men determined in their mission. Five of the richest men on the planet willing to devote that wealth, and their lives, to helping others.

Those blue eyes glistened.

Kat found her heart beating ever so fast.

Someone cleared their throat.

She blinked and found it was Virgil. He had the smallest of smirks on his face and his eyes were dancing in the lighting. “Do you have any further questions?”

And she found herself blushing. “Uh, yes.” She fiddled with her tablet as she gathered her thoughts.

“John, there are a number of questions for you regarding the capabilities of Thunderbird Five, ranging from ‘seeing me waving at you from my backyard’, all the way up to playing the stock market and accusations of espionage.” She drew in a breath. “Do you have any comments?”

John was the quiet and serious one. Red hair and the most gorgeous green-blue eyes she had ever see on a man. Actually, come to think of it, all the Tracy men had fantastic eyes.

The Commander’s blue were still trained on her.

She kept her attention on John.

He was a bit of a mystery as the least seen in the media. He was the Voice Who Answers, the Eye in the Sky. She wondered how much he actually saw and heard.

The man was unruffled under her full attention. “I see and hear what I need to.”

She blinked. That was very precise wording.

“Do you miss being at the centre of the action?”

“What do you mean?”

“You live on Thunderbird Five, don’t you?”

“Yes. Some of the time.”

“You often have to watch your brothers step into dangerous situations. Do you ever want to join them?”

“I do join them when necessary, Ms Kavanaugh. I am as much a first responder as any of my brothers.”

Kat held up a hand. “I know that, John. Your speciality is space. But you often have to watch from afar. How do you cope with that?”

Alan bounced up in his seat, almost jumping to his feet. “John is with us all the time. Without him, there would be no rescues.”

“But he is stuck up on Thunderbird Five-“

Scott cut her off. “John is our communications expert. He works just as hard as any of us, sometimes harder. It is not an easy job.” His eyes flicked to his younger brother. “But John is the master of it.”

“But don’t you feel helpless being so far away, only able to watch?”

Alan snorted. “John does so much more than watch.”

She targeted the youngest. “Like what?”

“He helps all the time, he-“

“Alan.” It was a single word from the Commander that had her missing that big brother persona all the more.

“But he does!”

“Alan.”

“Okay, fine. I’ll shut up.” And boy, the youngest could throw a pout better than any of the brothers so far today.

She ignored it and focussed on John. “Your thoughts?”

“Ms Kavanaugh, I do what I need to do.”

“And what do you need to do?”

“What is necessary.”

“To save lives?”

The was the briefest of hesitations. Another journalist may never have noticed.

But she did.

His answer was simple. “Yes.”

“I have a Tumblr user who claims you reprogrammed his tablet from space and now it will only play nursery rhymes.”

Those green-blue eyes darted to his right. “Perhaps you should ask him why I did it.”

“Aw, c’mon, John, it’s been six years!” Gordon’s voice was a whine. “You mess up every new tablet I buy. I said I’m sorry.”

Virgil frowned at Gordon. Virgil apparently frowned a lot. “What are you doing on Tumblr?”

Gordon switched from John to Virgil. “Well, derr, it’s the only decent blogging platform left.”

Kat scribbled a note that @gordonthesquid was actually Gordon Tracy. Thinking about it, it was pretty obvious.

She turned back to John. “How many times have you done that?”

“As many times as it takes to stop Gordon from messing with my possessions.”

“Six years, bro!”

“You’re a slow learner.”

“Ass.” The aquanaut crossed his legs and arms and turned his back on John.

Between the two of them, Virgil sighed.

Kat made a mental note never to piss off John Tracy.

Those blue eyes still hadn’t left her.

Note to self: never piss off any Tracy.

Perhaps it was fate that broke both her legs and prevented her from screening her attack on the Tracys.

She had the strongest feeling that she would never have seen him coming and no-one would have found the bodies much less counted them.

John emanated quiet confidence…and power…as he held her gaze.

Perhaps she had better wrap up the interview.

“I have many other questions to ask, but I know it has been a long day for all of you, so one last question.” She drew in a breath. “Is it worth it?”

“Yes.”

“God, yeah.”

“Of course.”

“Always.”

Scott was watching each of his brothers as they spoke, but stared at them a moment longer before answering himself…ever so quietly.

“I hope so.”

-o-o-o-

[i-am-a-stupid-robot]

The Machine & Its Maker

Justice and its perversion meet in the city labs as Ihda Reid's creation torments its first victim. The commander writhes once in the upright prison capsule, murmurs unintelligibly, and stills. Ihda crosses her arms against the urge to touch the glass encasing the suffering man and looks over at her partner.

Marcus’ lips are pressed tightly together as he monitors the commander’s biosigns from the control deck, his eyes locked on the readings, his fingers shaking almost imperceptibly as he scrolls through information on his padd. The commander grunts. Marcus flinches.

Ihda scrubs at her eyes against a forming headache. She made the Dormnus Machine to be a mercy. To give terminally ill patients a chance to live a full life, even if only in a dream—a virtual world to make their last hours pass like years. She hoped, in time, to be able to interface multiple minds in the same dream matrix so loved ones could spend the dying’s remaining moments making a lifetime of memories together.

She should have known something was wrong when the Council funded her project so readily, even sending Marcus to assist with her work. When the Council representatives came, one by one, prodding and nudging her research in another, darker direction, she began to realize her mistake. "Merely hypotheticals," they assured her of the formulas and modifications she was ordered to calculate and record. Then the Council members themselves came, watching the first active tests with interest, whispering amongst themselves and sending her looks of approval from beneath their dark hats.

After that, their research became devoted exclusively to hypotheticals, and Ihda watched her creation sink like a ship in the Council’s black sea.

“How long has it been?”

Marcus glances in her direction. Meets her eyes. Can't hold them. "Just under four hours."

“No,” she says, voice barely carrying over Dormnus’ thrum. “How long for him?”

Marcus lets out a tremulous sigh and swipes to find the data. His lips purse tighter.

“Marcus.”

“Twenty-two years.”

Ihda’s fists clench at her sides as she stares up into her unintended victim’s face. “What are we doing here?”

“Our jobs,” Marcus says, almost sternly. “We signed up for this. You signed up for this.”

“This is not what I signed up for.” Sweat trickles down the prisoner’s face and his mouth twitches. This time she does put a hand to the glass. Wonders what he’s seeing. Normally, they would be monitoring and perhaps even controlling the input from the control deck, but Councilman Tilbus ordered that all stimulus oversight be transmitted directly to the Capitol, putting the Council in full control of the commander’s environment and effectively locking them out. “We should know what's happening to him.”

“Don’t you think it’s better this way?”

Ihda’s temper flares. “We don’t even know what he did. If he did anything.”

Marcus’ eyes widen and he sends a furtive glance across the room as if looking for Authorities in the shadows. “Of course he did something!” he whispers, uncharacteristically vehement. “You can’t really think the Council would—”

“Why not? Marcus, I met this man. You met him. And his team. Did they seem like dangerous criminals to you?”

“His team hasn’t been accused of anything.”

“And him?”

Marcus hesitates. “He’ll be returned to them as soon as his sentence is carried out.” He looks at his timepiece. “Only three hours, now.”

“For us.” She lets her hand fall away from the glass. Shakes her head. “Dormnus was supposed to help people.”

“It is helping people. Just in a different way than we planned.”

“You can’t actually believe that, Marcus. Look at him.”

Marcus shuts his eyes as if to block her out. “Everything the Council does is to take care of the Citizens.”

Ihda rolls her eyes at the phrase, part of the chant they grew up reciting like a prayer each day. The Chairman is the head of the Council. We do not know Him, but He knows us. The Council members are His emissaries. Everything the Council does is to take care of the Citizens. The Council knows what we cannot. We trust the Council with our lives. Longlife to the Chairman. Longlife to the Council.

“Marcus.” She leans across the console and snatches his wrist in one hand, pointing to the man in the Dormnus capsule with the other. “Look at him.” When Marcus turns his face away, opening his mouth to retort, she reaches back and grasps his chin. “Look!” 

He does, and she watches his gentle spirit war with his fear of the Council. Her voice is low and steely when she continues. “If this man committed a crime, the Council would’ve reported it in this morning's broadcast. No one knows where he is or what’s happening to him except the Council. And us. Doesn’t that concern you?”

“Perhaps they’re going to report it tonight.”

Pity and disgust bloom in Ihda’s chest. “You poor frightened man,” she says softly. “You think you’ll be safe if you obey the Council, but you won't. None of us will. No one knows what this man’s crime was, no one even knows he was arrested, let alone sentenced without tribunal. This could have been you. It could have been me.” She turns back to the prisoner. A tear spills down his cheek, rechanneled by lines of past smiles and present distress. “If we allow them to continue like this, it still could.”

“If we try to stop them, it will,” he hisses. A pause, then more calmly, “Ihda. You’re my colleague and my friend.” His hand falls on her shoulder and she faces him. The fear in his eyes is gone—almost—replaced by a resignation that ages him beyond his years. He lifts his chin. “I don’t want to report you. But if you persist like this, I will.”

Ihda makes a choice. She smiles tightly. “You’re right. Forgive me. The Council knows what we cannot.”

Relief washes over his face, tempered by suspicion. "I'm glad to hear you say it." He looks between her and his padd a few times before returning to his work. "Let's not speak of this again."

“Certainly.” Ihda trails her hand along the outer rim of the console as she walks around it to join Marcus on deck, adrenaline pulsing through her limbs. She should probably be frightened by what she’s about to do, but instead, she’s exhilarated.

“Marcus." Her boots scrape against the grate. "What's that?" She leans over his shoulder, pointing at the screen with one hand and quietly sliding a hydraulics calibrator from her workstation with the other.

“What is what?”

“That reading. I’ve never seen data like that from Dormnus.” She can feel her pulse in her fingertips against the hydra-cal’s cool base.

He leans in closer to the console, face lit blue by the screen. “Where? Everything I see looks within the usual—”

Ihda slams the hydra-cal against the side of his head and he slumps to the side. She catches him before he can fall, lowering him carefully to the grate and cupping his face. “I’m sorry, Marcus. This way you won’t be suspected.”

She rises, stepping over Marcus and slipping into his seat. The commander is at twenty-seven years now. Lights blink green and blue and gold, showing his biosigns and brainwaves. They’re all climbing toward unsafe levels, but she barely takes time to read them before she starts the shutdown process and deletes her research archives. Then Marcus’. A progress bar pops up and she stands, hurrying back to Dormnus and scanning her verification card beneath the release panel.

A moment later, the panel slides away, the restraints retract, and the commander topples forward into her under-prepared arms. She staggers, lands hard on her backside, and just manages to catch his head and shoulders before they collide with the floor. He's sweating, trembling in her grip, and she wonders if it's from shock or the sedatives.

The cortical stims glare at her from his temples, and she carefully plucks them free, feeling a grim satisfaction when the blue lights in the center of each fade and disappear for lack of stimuli. His heartbeat throbs like a hammer beneath her fingers where she presses them to his throat—too fast, too hard. She curses and eases free of his weight, climbing to her feet and stepping behind Dormnus. The Council will know something is wrong by now—since she’s removed the stims they won’t be receiving even so much as his blood pressure anymore. 

She must work quickly.

To anyone but Ihda, the back of the Dormnus capsule would be a tangle of wires and tubes, but to her it's a precisely detailed map. Within minutes the chamber is damaged beyond repair. They’ll make another, eventually, no doubt. But she will not be complicit again.

“Commander,” she says, kneeling once more at his side. “You need to wake up.” She slaps his face lightly and he sucks in a shuddering breath, eyes flying open as he flinches violently. "It's all right."

He takes in his surroundings, frowns, makes a rasping attempt at speech.

“There’s no time. I will—someone will explain it to you. Later. Right now we need to move. Can you stand?”

He blinks at her. Nods, determination replacing the confusion in his bleary gaze.

He can’t stand, really, but with most of his weight propped against Ihda and his arm over her shoulder, they do manage to stay upright.

“I know you,” he pants, listing, as they stumble down the corridor toward the waste hatch that will deposit them in the street on the only unmonitored side of the building. “Why?”

“We’ve met. For you, a long time ago.”

He stops, hand tightening on her shoulder. “Not for you?”

“Someone will explain. Come.”

It’s no easy task maneuvering his clumsy limbs into the shaft, but once he's inside, gravity takes her place and he disappears down the chute, Ihda close behind.

Smoggy darkness shelters them as they move through the streets outside, sticking to alleyways and shadows. The commander loses even more coordination as they move, his skin going cold, the tremors increasing to alarming shakes as he leans more heavily against her with each step. The lab isn’t far from the square where the Commander’s ship waits—hopefully with his team inside—but in their state it takes them nearly twenty minutes to cover the distance and Ihda’s ears strain for the sound of alarms, buzzing drones, the voice of a citizen reporting suspicious after-curfew activity.

It’s not until they reach the square and she spies the strange vehicle in its center that the wail of the Authorities’ klaxon finally shatters the night. 

Out of time, Ihda hoists the commander more securely against her side and staggers with desperate strength to the shuttle’s hatch, freeing one hand and beating her palm against it.

The hatch retracts almost instantly, revealing the alarmed faces of the commander’s crew.

“Take him,” she grunts, hefting him into the waiting arms of the young lieutenant.

“What happened?” he demands, clutching his semi-conscious commander as if he were made of raw Currency. “Where has he been?”

Ihda looks over her shoulder. The siren grows closer and she can see the spotlights climbing up the sides of the buildings. “Go,” she says, turning back. “You must go, all of you. Now.”

“What’s wrong with him?”

“He was taken this morning, but for him, decades have passed. He might not be the man you knew. Give him time.” A spotlight washes over the lieutenant’s face, illuminating Ihda from behind. “Go!”

This time he doesn’t hesitate. The shuttle rumbles, the hatch glides shut, and wind whips Ihda’s hair into her eyes as the ship lifts into the air and hovers briefly before disappearing over the skyscrapers. 

"I’m sorry,” she whispers.

Justice and its perversion meet in the city square and Ihda Reid raises her hands, draws her first guiltless breath in years, and turns to face it. She smiles.

[ashfluffys]

ok weird idea but since Mu steals Timepieces, in A Catch In Time do you think that she'd try steal pokemon (and fail extremely miserably she is a girlfailiure team rocket is more successful than her idk I just started watching the first season)

Actually she steals time gears, which are from the mystery dungeon games! They have the same function as timepieces essentially, so mu would be collecting what hk hasn’t gotten to yet, ultimately deciding it’s faster to just let her get them in one place, wait for the perfect opportunity, and steal them all

This would, however, immediately alert both deities of time, with dialga sitting back waiting to let the humans take care of it first (despite eventually being summoned for the finale and going berserk), while the celebis would panic and flutter about, warning their trainers of the dangers about to happen as best they can

If anyone would steal pokemon from trainers, it would fall onto the mafia, as the rest of the planet are pokemon themselves so why steal pokemon when you can just fight with your own moves, plus the mafia have stolen so I wouldn’t put it past them to steal what they think is interesting, hell barrel battle could play out with fighting the mafia to help mu get back her stolen team instead of just rescuing her

[piratewithvigor]

Let me give a mini recap of the Elimination Chamber 2025 ending for any mutuals who have not been keeping up

Key details:

Cena is back for his last year of being a wrestler, doing a victory tour basically where he'll be at every PPV and be the top face

He did not win a Mania main event at the Royal Rumble, so decided to take part in Elimination Chamber as his final chance to get a title match and become the most-crowned champion in WWE history

The Rock is on the board of directors for TKO, WWE's parent company, making him very high management

Cody Rhodes is currently champion and Rock requested that Cody sell him his soul. Tonight, we find out Cody's response

The stage is now set

The Men's Chamber match has just ended. A wonderful 6-way bout that tied together multiple storylines and allowed for CM Punk to become the greatest hero the world has ever known for a few short moments when he eliminated L*gan Fuckface P*ul. With a cheap shot from an already-eliminated Seth Rollins, Cena knocks out Punk in a submission hold and is declared the winner. A wonderful moment for Cena in his final Canadian PPV

It's been a grueling evening after that Chamber, the preceding Chamber and an Unsanctioned Kevin Owens/Sami Zayn streetfight (and also some Nia Jax clusterfuck that happened). The audience is spent. I'm spent. The final segment of the night is Cody's response.

The instant the cage is up, with Cena still standing victorious, Cody's music hits and he does his regular triumphant entrance, adorned with not one but two golden timepieces. He uses neither to be timely with his entrance.

He is also wearing a flasher coat that I guessed would be used like Taker did before Survivor Series 93 to announce what team he'd be on. I guessed wrong; it was just a coat. Cody's got a nice but ordinary gray suit underneath and his belt. Cena welcomes him to the ring warmly and respectfully, holding open the ropes and everything.

"CAN YOU SMELLLLLLL" the moment is short-lived and interrupted by the Rock. Except it isn't him. It's a small man I first assume to be the Miz, fucking with us. I am wrong again; it is Travis Scott and he is continually sipping from a can I assume is alcohol. He is not looking sober. He is followed by The Rock, who seems to have stolen his outfit from ABBA, what with the bell bottoms and sparkly vest. The crowning glory are his glasses. They're terrible.

The Rock is also not speedy to the ring, nor is his sidekick. I realize at this point that I don't know why Travis Scott is famous, nor do I care. They both enter the ring and Travis settles into the corner.

Rock recaps his offer. "I want your mind, I want your body, I want your soul" A What chant begins. I find myself joining along. Not because of the spirit of the chant and a desire to humiliate and undermine wrestlers but because I am genuinely confused. Travis Scott is in the corner, smoking a pipe. Commentary says he's burning sage. It's not sage.

"Say no and the dream dies... again" The audience doesn't get it. I get it. Everyone who knows about Cody's daddy issues gets it.

"I cannot give you my soul," Cody begins.

"Because I gave it to the audience," I finish.

"Because I gave it to the ring a long time ago... and to these people!" Cody corrects. My apologies; I forgot the ring. Travis Scott takes another hit off his pipe. It's bright yellow and not easily hidden.

"Rock, go FUCK yourself" There. Now he's done. The crowd pops hugely. He said the F word.

Cody hugs Cena. He is facing away from Rock. Rock slides a hand across his throat in a very clumsy 'kill him' gesture. Cena does. In the middle of that ring, he literally turns heel and kills Cody as best he can with his bare hands. Then he takes the championship belt and bashes him in the face, busting Cody open a little (a lot by WWE standards, but I know what Cody's capable of). He's hit so many times. Then his shirt is pulled open to reveal his Dream titty tattoo and blood is smeared everywhere. Someone chokes him with his own tie. Travis is still smoking in the corner.

Laying on his front, back exposed, Rock is holding a white weightlifting belt emblazoned with 'Cody's Soul' and begins whipping him. Cody's taking it much better than he did 5 years ago. Or maybe he's more unconscious. Rock kneels down and smears Cody's forehead blood onto the belt and waltzes off with Cena who is now Evil!Cena and Travis Scott, who is still "burning sage" according to commentary.

Cody's bruised and bloodied face is all we see as we fade to black

[aayuuwrites]

Writeblr Introduction...

Hey there, fellow adventurer!

Hey there! I’m Aayu (he/him), a newbie writer who spends a little too much time lost in fantasy worlds, building new adventures & stories, trying to create poetry that doesn’t always rhyme [oops! (ᵕ—ᴗ—)]. I’m here to share my writing, learn from all of you, and maybe even get lost in a few collaborative projects along the way. I’ve got a lot of ideas buzzing around in my head, and this space is where I’ll bring them to life. 🌟

A little bit about me:

Pronouns: he/him

Age: 19

INTJ / INFJ

Aries

Craves a whole lot of coffee! (⊙ _ ⊙)

Anime nerd ⎚-⎚

A fantasy-loving, world-building enthusiast

Sometimes you may catch me daydreaming about characters from movies and anime's who don’t know how to stay out of trouble...

Open to exploring any genre (but I mostly live in fantasy, fiction, poetry, and short stories)

Obsessed with adventure, complex plots, and creating characters who feel like friends (or enemies... depending on the day) >ᴗ<

Always here for tag games, writing prompts, and collaborating with other creative souls

What you’ll find on my blog:

My WIPs: From magical realms with strange mythical beasts to strange lands with lots of mystery, I'm always working on something new (and sometimes not quite finished, lol)

Poetry and Short Stories: Because who doesn’t love a little variety, right?

Collaborations: Let’s team up! I’m always looking to write with others, so feel free to talk to me in my inbox!

World-building and Adventure: Expect a lot of random world-building lore and the occasional overly-dramatic character monologue shit!

Introducing My WIPs:

1. Sherlock of Another World Genre: Fantasy / Mystery / Reincarnation / Magic Summary: A young boy, once a huge fan of Sherlock Holmes, is reincarnated into a world resembling the late Victorian era—only this world has an undercurrent of magic. After a fateful accident, he wakes up with his memories intact, determined to carve out a place for himself as the world's greatest detective. But this world is not full of political intrigue and societal drama; it also hides arcane secrets and mysterious forces that blur the line between logic and the supernatural. With his razor-sharp mind, well-stocked with knowledge of the methods employed by Holmes, he seeks to solve crimes that no one can. From the weird magical occurrences to secret societies controlling the arcane energy of the world, he weaves through an intricate web of riddles that may be more than he had in mind for himself. Will he turn out to be the Sherlock Holmes of this new world or will the magic and danger prove too much even for his brilliant mind?

2. The Eternity Clock Genre: Short Story, Magical Realism, Fantasy, Philosophical Fiction Summary: A small village in India’s Western Ghats, blending rich culture and mystical timepieces.

PS: Still working on some ideas so this section will be updated soon!

A Few Fun Things About Me (Besides Writing):

World-building is my like my jam. If I’m not writing, I’m probably mapping out cities or figuring out a character’s backstory or finding some inspiration to write from somewhere (and yes, I get really into it).

Music and Books are constant companions. I love finding the perfect inspiration to match's the mood of my stories.

I crave movies and animes—always on the lookout for something new to watch, even if my list is getting a little out of hand. (ㅅ´ ˘ `)

THANK YOU FOR YOU TIME!

Feel free to reach out if you want to scream about your WIPs, OCs, books, or any shared interests! Always up for a chat! 💬✨

[celestialselfship]

Intro, DNI, and F/O List

My name is Lukas! My pronouns are he/him. I'm trans, bisexual, and poly. I'm selfshipping to comfort myself and try to relieve stress. I love my f/os very much, and I hope I can make friends with other self shippers here! I was here a long time ago but left due to offline stress making it impossible to enjoy my time here.

I will draw my f/os and self inserts as art practice. I do not ever use AI art. If I reblog AI art, please let me know so I can delete it.

Main F/Os: Loke and Zoey

I am okay with sharing! I encourage doubles.

DNI: Proshippers, adults who selfship with minors, if your f/o is a canon rapist, "MAPs/NOMAPs," if you are transphobic, homophobic, enbyphobic, biphobic, ect., pro-AI, and if you engage in harassment.

DNF: Any of the above, and anyone under 18. You can reblog my sfw posts if they're in the main tag or if someone reblogs it, but I don't want minors interacting with my nsft posts or following me.

F/O List!

Format is as follows: Character Name // Romantic, Platonic, or Familial Relationship // Source Material.

The list will have Romantic f/os at the top of each Source, then Familial, and then Platonic

Anime/Manga

Leo/Loke // Romantic // Fairy Tail

Elfman Strauss // Familial // Fairy Tail

Lisanna Strauss // Familial // Fairy Tail

Makarov Dreyar // Familial // Fairy Tail

Mirajane Strauss // Familial // Fairy Tail

Cana Alberona // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Erza Scarlet // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Gajeel Redfox // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Gray Fullbuster // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Happy // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Juvia Lockser // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Levy McGarden // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Lucy Heartfilia // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Natsu Dragneel // Platonic // Fairy Tail

Cartoons

Zoey // Romantic // KPop Demon Hunters

Bobby // Platonic // KPop Demon Hunters

Mira // Platonic // KPop Demon Hunters

Rumi // Platonic // KPop Demon Hunters

Comic Books

Kurt Wagner/Nightcrawler // Romantic // X-Men

Jean Gray // Platonic // X-Men

Kitty Pryde // Platonic // X-Men

Logan Howlett // Platonic // X-Men

Ororo Munroe // Platonic // X-Men

Piotr Rasputin // Platonic // X-Men

Scott Summers // Platonic // X-Men

Video Games

Raymond // Romantic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Audie // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Elvis // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Fauna // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Genji // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizon

Lucky // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Muffy // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Whitney // Platonic // Animal Crossing: New Horizons

Gale Dekarios // Romantic // Baldur's Gate 3

Karlach Cliffgate // Romantic // Baldur's Gate 3

Wyll Ravengard // Familial // Baldur's Gate 3

Astarion Ancunin // Platonic // Baldur's Gate 3

Halsin // Platonic // Baldur's Gate 3

Lae'zel // Platonic // Baldur's Gate 3

Shadowheart // Platonic // Baldur's Gate 3

Betty // Romantic // Date Everything!

Dolly // Romantic // Date Everything!

Timothy Timepiece // Alterous // Date Everything!

Pokemon Team

Gallade // Platonic

Luxray // Platonic

Meowscarada // Platonic

Original Characters

[nounoustouzy]

MANCHESTER UNITED WALL CLOCK

Every second counts! An exciting and practical accent in any room, this unique high quality Wall Clock serves as a statement piece, creating a personalized environment.

.: Materials: 100% wood (frame), 100% plexiglass (face), 100% metal (mechanism) .: One size: 10" x 10" (25.4 x 25.4 cm) .: Pre-installed backside hook .: For indoor use .: Requires one AA battery (NOT included) .: Silent clock mechanism.

Get it now from here

[cloaksandcapes]

We recently wrapped up around a 2 year long campaign of Critical Role's Call of the Netherdeep. One of our players played a Chronurgy Wizard named Amaryllis Desoren. She was born to a corrupt, wealthy family and ultimately, ran away, rescued an orphan and changed her name.

She did and went through a lot of horrible things, both as Amaryllis and as Ember, her new identity. The girl she rescued, but also played a part in orphaning, Mina Keenleaf, also grew up to be a talented Wizard.

When Ember eventually turned herself and in and helped to take down the Desoren family, her old identity was pronounced dead. Amyallis Desoren was no more, but Ember got a second chance. She was remanded to the custody of the people of Whitestone and would spend the rest of her days teaching.

We created this magic item as a gift from Mina to adoptive mother Ember, when she reached her tenure in Whitestone.

Keenleaf’s Keen Timepiece

Wondrous Item, legendary (requires attunement)

“This expertly crafted clockwork timepiece is one of a kind. Both the enchantment and the construction of the watch itself is immaculate and likely never to be reproduced. There is a small inscription on the caseback that reads, ‘Life is better because you are in it. But here’s to fixing our small mistakes.’-M.K.”

This magical timepiece projects a small, temporal bubble around you that allows you to manipulate time to a very small degree for yourself and those close to you.

Temporal Revision. While wearing this watch, whenever a creature hits you with an attack, you can use your reaction to force them to reroll the attack, taking the new result. Additionally, whenever you miss with an attack roll, you can use your reaction to reroll the attack, taking the new result.

Time for Precision. You can use a bonus action to activate this magic item, which causes your perception of time to slow allowing you to make better decisions in the moment. For 1 minute, all of your attack rolls, saving throws and ability checks are made with advantage. Once you use this property, you cannot use the Temporal Revision property, or this one until you finish a long rest.

If you enjoy our content, please support our team of four on Patreon. Get access to over 700+ Magic Items, monsters, tokens, subclasses and more.

[shadisaskyline]

Team Timepiece :3 Mystery dungeon time (plus individual pieces, I’m playing dolls with them)

The Mudkip (Maya) is mine, the Skitty (Sera) is @contrastparadoxx and the Chikortia (Chandan) is @haggardhawker

[spacetimewithstuartgary]

ACES finds its home in orbit

The Atomic Clock Ensemble in Space (ACES), ESA's state-of-the-art timekeeping facility, has been successfully installed on the International Space Station, marking the start of a new chapter in space-based precision science.

ACES lifted off on 21 April 2025 aboard a SpaceX Falcon 9 from NASA's Kennedy Space Center in Florida, United States, as part of the 32nd SpaceX commercial resupply services mission to the International Space Station. On 25 April, the Station's Canadian robotic arm installed the payload on the Earth-facing side of ESA's Columbus laboratory, where it is set to operate for 30 months.

Developed by ESA in collaboration with European industry led by Airbus, ACES carries the most accurate atomic timepieces ever launched into space: PHARAO, a cesium-based fountain clock developed by the French space agency CNES, and the Space Hydrogen Maser built by Safran Timing Technologies in Switzerland.

These clocks will work in tandem with a cutting-edge microwave and laser link system to deliver time from orbit with unprecedented precision and allow ACES to establish a "network of clocks," comparing the most accurate clocks on Earth and in space to explore the nature of time, test general relativity and help pave the way for a redefinition of the second based on next-generation optical clocks.

With installation now complete, the next step is the first switch-on of the system, scheduled for 28 April. This initial activation will establish communications with ground control, enabling telemetry—data transmitted from ACES to Earth—and telecommands—instructions sent from engineers on the ground to ACES—while stabilizing thermal systems in preparation for clock operations.

A six-month commissioning phase will follow, during which engineers and scientists will calibrate the instruments, test time transfer links and characterize the performance of the ACES clocks. ACES will connect with clocks at selected ground stations several times a day as it orbits Earth on the International Space Station.

When multiple clocks are in the same field of view for the Station, such as two located in Europe, ACES can achieve a precision of one part in 10-17, or about 10 quintillionths of a second, within just a few days. This is between one and two orders of magnitude better than today's systems using navigation satellites such as GPS. Comparisons between distant clocks across continents, never directly compared to this accuracy before, will take about a week.

By the end of commissioning, the best operating parameters for PHARAO will be defined. ACES will then begin its two-year science phase, with ten planned sessions of 25 days of data-taking. After validation by the ACES science team, results will be shared with the global scientific community, opening new frontiers in fundamental physics and the science of time.

"I'm so excited and proud that our incredibly complex and hugely important project is now in space after many years of hard work. This is a major achievement for ESA and the science community, and I look forward to seeing the results of the hard work done by Airbus, Timetech, CNES, Safran Time Technologies and ESA, together with partners all over Europe. This is ESA's 'jewel in the crown' on the International Space Station," says Simon Weinberg, ACES project scientist, ESA.

IMAGE: The Atomic Clock Ensemble in Space (ACES) facility attached to the exterior of ESA's Columbus facility on the International Space Station. By creating a "network of clocks", this European facility will link its own highly precise timepieces with the most accurate clocks on Earth and compare them to measure the flow of time. Credit: ESA-D. Ducros