#The fuck am I supposed to do with “colony”

[secretidentie]

What do the bat's in the batcave do??

Like they never get startled or shit on anything important so they're probably trained. But does Bruce ever use them. Sort of like how the government used pigeons yk. Do they spy on bad guys? Has he ever called on them to finish a fight? Are there carrier bats that just send letters coz "batman's too mysterious to send emails Alfred!"?

There's no way Bruce "breathes in contingency plans" Wayne has a swarm of bat's at his disposal and doesn't use it ever. I'm sure there's a bunch of bat-centric contingency plans. Partly coz it's practical but mostly coz it's on brand.

[pxlpanic]

lil rant in the tags

will delete later jsbdjs

ps. didnt know there were max 30 tags wow

[marzipanandminutiae]

"EUROPEANS ATE GROUND-UP EGYPTIAN MUMMIES!!!! ALL THE TIME!!!"

sounds much more dramatic than

"Europeans sometimes consumed ground-up Egyptian mummies, or fluid found inside the chest cavities of mummies, or a type of tree resin that became associated with mummies because it kind of looked like the bitumen used in the embalming process, or the dried and ground flesh of very specific European dead- most likely a bit of all of the above at various times in various places. but it's hard to say what the proportion of each was- and at least one early Middle Eastern physician, Abd al-Latif al-Baghdadi from modern-day Iran, also advised the use of the Body Cavity Liquid variety hundreds of years before the first documented use of mummy by Europeans. so it was a medicinal thing in the areas from whence the mummies came, too. unsurprising seeing as a lot of cultures- including Europeans -have done Corpse Medicine with their own people for centuries. there was also been pushback against the medicinal use of mummies in Europe since at least the 16th century; it remains unclear how popular the notion was at any given time. so the answer to Is This A Good Symbol For The Effects of European Colonialism In Egypt remains a resounding 'ehhh...?'"

"because the whole idea is, is it not, that Europeans were literally consuming the dead bodies of a non-European people who would have had no reason to sell their dead without a European market. and that's kind of true! there was a market that created a demand! but they were also already putting the bodies to these uses closer to home before Europeans started, because this whole thing began with both Arab and European doctors misinterpreting other Arab doctors who were talking about the medicinal qualities of tree resin. so really it's not as simple a situation as we might like to believe."

"and Mummy Brown paint is like this whole other situation where it was supposed to be made from ground-up mummies but often wasn't because Cost-Cutting, and a lot of artists didn't really like it anyway, and others used it thinking the name only referred to the color, and one time Edward Burne-Jones attempted an Egyptian funeral for a tube of Mummy Brown paint because he was so horrified with the origins, so while that's a more straightforward as an Oh Shit Violent Colonialism situation, people merrily waltzing into shops and buying one tube of Dead Egyptian Person, please, my good man! wasn't quite as widespread as one might now think"

"for me, the more compelling image of Europe Fucking Egypt Over is that of a white archaeologist peering curiously into a pit where Egyptian people are working tirelessly to excavate a tomb, their names to be lost to history in favor of whatever rich white person they toiled for. even that image is not without complicating factors- I, imagining it, am a white woman who cannot ask those Egyptian men what they think and feel about all their role in all this -but to me it seems more reliable than the VERY complex and often misinterpreted history of the mummy trade, even as I understand it after like an hour of research"

"on the OTHER HAND, does it even matter if people in the Middle East were already doing mummy medicine, when Europeans increased demand? does it even matter if Europeans felt bad or at least grossed out about Mummy Brown paint or if it wasn't ~always~ real mummies? maybe it doesn't! maybe my instincts as a history worker to say It's More Complicated are clouding my judgment on the nature of colonialism! or maybe they aren't! or maybe different people will think I'm right or think I'm full of shit and that's just the nature of doing public history on The Tungles!"

"anyway I have COVID and should probably go to bed now"

"this article and the Wiki page for Mummia are very well-sourced"

[txttletale]

hey not trying to be a shithead but genuinely curious; and not saying it isnt, but what makes honest hearts like super racist? because, okay its been a while but i dont remember it being *that* bad?

am i missing something? (probably)

well, essentially, the whole dlc hinges its plot on its idea of 'tribal' society vs. 'civilized' society. this is like... a distinction with origins in 19th century scientific racism used to argue that indigenous peoples were 'primitive' and 'backwards', a lesser form of life compared to the more developed 'civilized' people. and this is a distinction that is everywhere in all the fallout games, including new vegas (i think it's super fucking racist that the white gloves practice of cannibalism is constantly narratively linked to their 'tribal origins' and described in the terms of a regression or degeneration)--but honest hearts is about it and so it's really inescapable.

joshua sawyer can say whatever he likes about multi-ethnic diverse groups or whatever but the tribes in honest hearts are very clearly inspired by racist stereotypes about native americans--they are naive, gullible morons (follows-chalk can't understand the concept of a casino) at worst and noble savages with (textually) biblical innocence at best. their names, their art, their societies--all just a white guy's idea of "vaguely native american" without any research or care.

and imo worst of all (and this is something im aware the devs have properly acknowledged) they have absolutely no agency--your role in the dlc is to be a "civilized" outsider who tells them which of two white "civilized" mormons to listen to. none of the 'tribals' are able to make their own decisions or lead themselves--they need a mormon missionary to tell them what to do! there is no way to resolve the dlc without picking which white mormon missionary they should listen to other than just murdering everyone indiscriminately.

and, like--i am aware that honest hearts thinks it is gesturing towards a critique of these ideas. you can criticize the paternalism daniel shows towards the sorrows, and the dlc clearly intended it to be criticized--but that criticism is weak and hollow when the only way to follow up on it is to put a different white mormon in charge. it is the most archetypal white saviour narrative possible--and yes, i also know daniel was 'supposed to be asian', but that doesn't change anything because he is in fact, as the "civilized" missionary preaching paternalistically to the "primitive tribals", fundamentally white-coded

so i mean yea it's racist because it relies on racist stereotypes about native americans, mandates that a white person come and take charge of these poor stupid 'tribes'--but even if you changed all that, it's fundamentally about an idea of 'civilization vs. tribal society' that it accepts as a true and meaningful distinction as its core premise, and that is just a straight up racist premise.

(and the reason i keep bringing up that both daniel and josh are mormons is that mormons have a long and storied history of brutal violence and colonialism against indigenous peoples, from their original violent settlement of utah to their 'indian placement program' to their deeply racist scripture, which makes their portrayal as benevolent white saviours particularly galling and repulsive)

[thepinkdreamganjaqueen]

Limitations

Randall Kirkland x Fem!Reader

Masterlist🩷

Summary: Randall plays on your competitive nature. How far will he take it? How far will you let him?

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, piv, unprotected sex, DubCon, manipulation, breeding, choking, gagging, dacrophilia swearing, mentions of violence and murder, fem!reader, romantic smut, aftercare

A/N: Finally!!! It is time!! I know y'all have been itching for this new Randall fic, I’ve been grinding hard on this, I hope it doesn’t disappoint. I love y'all! I love Randall!!! Thank you all so so much for your support! It truly means the world to me and motivates me to do better every day and put out more fics! As always, I’m open to comments, questions, requests, etc. or if you ever just want to reach out, say, "Hey", and chat, I am all for it!! *kisses*

W/C: 9.2k

You didn’t want to walk past the bus this morning. Every time you did, you felt his eyes on you. You could feel them traipse across your skin, observing your every curve, how you walked, the way your hips swayed, and how your hair bounced behind you as you walked. You had gotten used to the town, as used to it as someone could get, you supposed. But you never could bring yourself to come to terms with your feelings, feelings you weren’t sure how to address, or what to even call them. Was it envy, lust, longing? You’ve never even spoken to him, but you felt his eyes bore into you every morning as you walked past to the diner.

Some days, you wondered what would happen if you stopped to speak with him. What would you say? Every morning you saw him from your peripheral vision as he turned his head to follow your path. Wanting to look back, but eyes still looking straight ahead. You never looked back, unsure of what you'd see, what you wanted to see. The one and only person you thought you had figured out, but too scared to be direct or approach. You stole a few glances at times at the diner or by the farm. You often remarked at how handsome he was, shying away from those lustful thoughts, but always going back to them once it got dark and you were alone.

You kept to yourself most days, only chatting with folks in passing at the diner and steering far from colony house. You had heard stories, and gossip passed through tight lips from person to person. You were not one to indulge but still remained vigilant with an ear to listen. Randall, the guy they kicked out and forced to live on the bus. Some say he threatened Donna. Some say he held people at gunpoint. Nothing surprising, nothing you probably wouldn’t do yourself given the chance. This place had a way of messing with people, getting into their heads, making people mad in every sense of the word. Some days, you didn’t know if what you were seeing was real, and were unsure if anyone else had similar experiences but kept to yourself all the same due to your own distrust in others.

Day in and day out, you felt defeated, not sure if you were even really alive. You walked through the day in a slump, wondering if anything is real, if this was real or if it was a dream… and what of the life you knew before. Was that the dream? You had gone numb, wracking your mind over the details and inconsistencies of the day-to-day happenings. Not wanting to die, not willing to, but not sure if you would or if that even meant anything anymore. Was this what death was? Did we all die in car crashes and this is our fucked-up purgatory? What is survival, really? In this situation, it was hard to define.

That’s why you found yourself thinking of Randall often, yet too shy or scared to approach him, only in your mind's eye did he linger. Not knowing what he’s thinking or going through personally. You were remiss to your thoughts and thoughts alone. They drove you to the edge of delirium nightly. Clutching your pillow over your face, screaming to drown out the sounds of the creatures that knocked upon your windows and doors. Always trying to find a way in, slowly waiting, watching. You felt helpless and alone often escaping in the thought of his touch, how his hands would feel on your skin, how soft his lips must feel, how they’d taste. It was the last piece of sanity you could hold onto every night before the nightmare became too close of a reality. Instead, you fantasized about Randall and turned it into a dream.

You reluctantly headed out the door later than usual today, unwilling to brood between four walls. You threw on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt before heading out the door and to the diner. Before arriving, you could hear commotion in the distance. There was a group of people standing near the entrance of the diner arguing about supplies and food. The crowd seemed rowdy and questionable.

You stopped at the edge of where the bus stood with its tires shot out a safe distance away, watching as the township fought and argued. You scoffed and sneered. Tired of how the people ran things here, tired of the rules in a place with no natural law. It was ridiculous to you, a noble effort that just somehow still wasn’t enough. People are still being killed, people are still lost, there’s no escaping and they’re fighting over supplies. Your eyes rolled so hard you felt the nerves stretch behind your eye socket causing a slight headache.

“Ugh”, you audibly spoke. “My sentiments exactly” a voice said from beside you. You shuddered at the sound of the voice, deep and gravelly. You quickly looked up realizing Randall had stepped off the bus and stood next to you. Suddenly you found your lungs had tightened in your chest lifting a lump into your throat leaving you unable to speak or even breath for a moment. You observed his expression, aloof yet fixed and focused. You could see behind his eyes, a darkness softened by disappointment and fear. His eyes looked on toward the diner as he snickered.

“Can you believe what they’re doing? Rationing food now?” He spoke again. You watched as his mouth moved when he spoke, how his lips curled over his teeth, how his dark rimmed mossy green eyes flickered with speech. His hands gesturing toward the diner, looked rough and abrasive, covered in veins that crawled up his forearms and disappeared under his flannel shirt. He was so remarkably handsome you thought to yourself, blushing at the thoughts that began to fill your head once more.

You found yourself trying to respond, to think of something to say. His stature alone was intimidating, he towered over you leaning against the bus with his arms crossed looking at you under a furrowed brow. Those eyes, burning you. You could feel his gaze wash over you like molten lava. You could feel heat begin brimming to your cheeks as your whole body went flush and mind blank.

“Someone should do something” was all you could manage to say. You spoke angrily and out of frustration in a mere whisper, but truly you thought, someone really should do something, anything, literally anything. Randall’s eyes remained fixed on you as you looked onward towards the diner, your attention caught by louder yelling.

You watched as Boyd broke up the crowd, unable to hear what was being said but seeing his arms wave side to side palms down as if it would calm anyone. The crowd murmured as they dispersed, sharing looks of shame and frustration with one another. “Come on” Randall said reaching for your hand. It was soft, warm, and completely swallowed yours within his grip. “What are you doing?” you questioned. The crowd had already broken and cleared out at this point. “We’re going to do something about it” he whispered in a hushed voice. He pulled you with him towards the back side of the diner, you followed effortlessly. His confidence surged through his grip onto your palm. Kinetic energy leaking from his skin to yours, exhilarating your senses and emboldening your mood. Finally, someone with an assertive nature, you thought.

Randall kept eyes on Boyd and the few that lingered as he led you to the backside of the diner, peeking around the corner as he did. You both watched as Boyd, Donna, and a few others left towards the sheriff station. Slowly disappearing into the distance. You felt his hand reach past your waist and brush against your t-shirt lifting it slightly allowing a draft of cold air to touch your skin. You shuddered at the feeling of his forearm sweeping against you, only for a second. He was warm, his skin, so soft.

He had reached across to open the door you stood next to. He then smirked and said “after you” outstretching his hand, guiding you into the diner's kitchen. You nodded taking the lead but not fully sure what you were doing there. Upon entering the kitchen, you noticed it’s disarray. There were various dishes, cans, and boxes, strewn about and stacked high. The town’s folk had tried to gather and take what they could, anything they could get their hands on. Perhaps a few even got to take some home, but this was what was left.

Several jars of canned goods, boxed goods, spices, and various pickled fruits and veggies. You imagined the work it took to prep all this who had done it and how long it must have taken. You slide the boxes over with your foot that were haphazardly stacked near the door where Randall entered behind you. He slid past you reaching for an empty box and began filling it with items of his own personal preference. “Grab what you can carry and whatever else you want; we’ll take it over to your place” he said firmly in a curt almost whisper.

You looked on as your mind fought with itself. You hadn’t expected this, to take things for yourself. The idea of it, however much you rationalized it, agreed with it and wanted to, still felt wrong. A tinge of guilt swept over you. Randall, who had his back turned, had turned to face you. Seeing your apprehension he spoke. “Thought you wanted to do something about it?” He said playfully jesting toward you with his elbow, easing your tension a bit. It wasn’t so much that you didn’t want to do it, you did, it’s more that you were afraid of being caught, what would happen then? What would they do?

Truly you thought you didn’t really care for anybody in this town, you didn’t know them on any personal level, you weren’t even sure if they were truly who they said they were. Everyone was out for themselves at this point, proven this morning as you approached the diner and seeing the rowdy crowd, and now, looking around the kitchen and seeing boxes strewn about and the mess they had left behind in their haste. They were all fending for themselves why shouldn’t you?

Randall had set his box down with a thunk as the box hit the table. You could hear the clinks of the cans and jars that rustled within. The bulk of his content being canned meats and veggies, various soups, stocks and spices. He had grabbed a box handing it to you. “Here. If we’re going to survive, we have to beat them to it. You saw them out there, they just didn’t get away with it” a mischievous smile crept across your lips. After all, you did say something should be done.

He met your smile with one of his own, a devilish grin widened at the corners of his lips and his eyes narrowed “atta girl! Almost didn’t think you had it in you” he chuckled as he turned and proceeded to fill his box. Your cheeks flushed immediately, a balmy heat filling your face. A mixture of feelings brimmed at that sentiment. You tried dissecting your emotions while grabbing items from the shelves. What had he thought of you? You hadn’t thought of that until just now. What did Randall think of you, about you? Did he think you meek and mousey? You supposed you could be perceived that way but truly you were bold, you were passionate, stubborn, and would never back down from a challenge, especially if someone thought you couldn’t or wouldn’t.

What did he mean he didn’t think you had it in you? Sure, you hesitated, but only for a moment. But him saying “atta girl” almost made it all ok. You wanted him to say more, to give you that praise, to give you the attention you hadn’t realized until now, you were so starved for. His voice penetrated your psyche in an undefined pleasurable way. You felt the urge to show him who you really were, after all, he didn’t know anything about you sans what he could observe in passing. You had never held a conversation with him prior to today. You surmised that maybe others spoke about you and he had heard. You didn’t doubt it, it's how you heard about him.

What had you heard about him that wasn’t true or was a misrepresented truth in some way. You wanted to know more about him. You always had but fear held you back. What an opportunity today had presented you with. He was the only person in this place that intrigued you, the only person you felt you could possibly relate to, the only person who seemed… real.

Randall had stopped grabbing things, remarking about his full box being a good haul then turning his attention to you as you continued meticulously picking things out. You could feel that familiar feeling, the one you felt every morning as you passed by the bus at first light. His eyes were on you. You could feel them wander your curves as you bent over to look at a lower shelf or kneeled to grab something. His eyes laid upon you like a soft touch, caressing every inch with his vision.

The feelings you had fought every morning quickly presented themselves at the forefront of your mind once again. Today, you let them flourish, examining them closely. Today you would find out what it was you felt. You could feel your body tremble at the thought of him touching you. Your hands shook grabbing items as lustful thoughts overtook your brain making your focus almost nonexistent.

You found yourself easing into his gaze. Calculating your movements to emphasize your body for his view, arching your back, bending your knees. You reached for a high shelf, an item perched just out of your reach. You looked over your shoulder peeking through strands of hair that fell about your face, meeting his smoldering gaze. He was leaned against the counter, arms crossed with one leg crossed over the other. He nonchalantly stood, walking towards you. You tried reaching once more, inching on your feet when you felt his presence behind you.

The space between your bodies was warm and quickly got warmer. An arm outstretched, reaching over your head and grabbing the can from the top shelf you had been reaching for. You could feel the flannel from his shirt brush against your arm. You turned to thank him, falling back onto your heels and looking up. He stood so close to you still, you could smell his clothes, a mix of ozonic and possibly leather. Perhaps from sleeping on the bus you pondered. It was hypnotic.

He took another step closer, enclosing the space between you. A lump lifted into your chest as your breathing hitched. You met his eyes, darkened by the shadows within the room, his face only lit from the bit of daylight that streamed in from the dining area and small back window. You observed his face, lamenting internally how beautiful he was, how soft his features were. His angled jaw, cheek bones, and dimpled chin catching light and emphasizing some of his most beautiful features. The kindness you could see in his face behind his brooding exterior. There was a layer deeper you couldn’t see but feel.

The air in the room felt thicker, harder to breath. You could feel each breath you took as it lifted your chest to meet his sternum, pressing firmly against him. He looked down at you with a sly smile “is this what you wanted?” He spoke in a low raspy tone. You looked down seeing the can in his hand. “Mhmm. Thank you” you said shaking your head in affirmation and looking into his eyes. He smiled coyly and handed you the can. With his other arm, he grabbed your shoulder and ran his fingers down your arm gently, leaning in to whisper in your ear. “We should probably hurry up and get out of here, so we don’t get caught too”.

However true his words were, it was the farthest thought from your mind. All you could think about was how his breath felt on your ear, how each syllable danced across your skin ever so gently, cascading down your neck. How his hand felt on your shoulder. How firm his grip was, how the sensation of his fingertips still lingered upon your skin leaving goosebumps in their wake. You all but melted at the slightest of touch. An ache deep within your core, a feeling so intense it couldn’t be ignored. However, he was right. It was best to get in and out of there as quickly as possible.

Earlier, he had said that he would bring the items with you to your place. Your mind raced at the possibilities. You tried to quell those thoughts; they ran rampant within the confines of your mind. Playing out scenes of all the different ways you wanted him, the things you wanted to do to him. You felt your heart race within your chest, your palms got clammy and for once in your time here in the township, fear wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

You nodded in agreement as he stepped aside allowing you space to finish grabbing what you needed. You had found the last item that you topped your box off with before setting it down. A can of fruit medley with extra cherries you found hidden in the back of one of the cabinets. “Ready?” He asked standing from his aloof leaning position he watched you from. “Let's go!” You whispered excitedly. You grabbed your box when Randall reached out “I got it” he said matter of factly, stacking your box on top of his and carrying them both. “Just keep an eye out, yeah?” He gestured nodding his head toward the door. “Of course,” you agreed.

You slowly open the door peeking around the corner looking for any signs of activity or prying eyes. Everything looked clear, you motioned with a wave of your hand to Randall indicating it was safe. You both carefully made your way back to your place in the township. You opted to stick to the tree line, hoping that no one would see you as you quickly made your way home. It must have only been a couple blocks away, but the feeling of excitement and the thrill of the entire situation had you giddy. You felt as if you floated home.

You must have spent more time at the diner than you realized. You are very fortunate, you thought, that no one came back and caught you and Randall. Would they put you in a cell at the sheriff’s station for a night or would they put you in the box? A fleeting thought. For it did not matter, no one did catch you, and you made it to your home safely just before dark.

You scrambled to open the door and let Randall inside as quickly and unnoticeably as possible. Still worried someone would see, but knowing it was unlikely an issue as most were probably already inside as that familiar nightly bell began to ring in the distance.

He had carried those two boxes the entire way, and the fact that he even offered was so kind and gentlemanly. You felt that the things people have said about him and the way they felt about him were wrong, that maybe they didn’t give him a chance. He was actually very sweet, albeit intimidating for sure. But that didn’t scare you, it only furthered your curiosity.

You regretted not taking the time to approach him sooner instead of waiting for him to approach you on a chance encounter. However it may have happened, you were thankful that it eventually did. If anything, just having him around and being in his presence made you feel less alone, less afraid. As a matter of fact, for most of your time here you weren’t sure you were even alive. But with him, this is the most alive you've ever felt since you’ve been here.

Such a simple act, a small way to fight back and to resist. He made you feel exhilarated and validated. In the short time you had spent together, you already felt like you wanted him around more. It wasn’t just the lust, even though those thoughts danced freely beneath the surface, but you felt a kind of connection with him.

It was unexplainable, maybe irrational even, you couldn’t explain it except for that you felt wanted in his presence, accepted. Something you had yet to feel here. It only drew you to him further. There were sudden realizations of unspoken truths between you two. One, you knew he wanted you; you had already known, you supposed for some time. Only now was it clear. Two, he knew you knew. And three, you wanted him as well.

He rushed past you as you pushed the door closed behind him while checking that the talisman was secure. Randall entered your home, setting the boxes upon the table just within the opening to the dining room area, then immediately returned his attention back to you. You went to move but felt locked in his gaze. You watched helplessly as he walked towards you, each step inching closer.

You turned to speak. You had a question still burning within you, you sought clarification from his snide commentary from earlier. “What did you mean by you didn’t think I had it in me?” You asked pointedly. You were curious. “Huh?” Randall spoke, stopping mid step halfway to where you stood. He paused to think for a moment. “I didn’t peg you for defiance” he mocked. “But I guess for a second, I thought you might’ve been like the others. Self-righteous, goody two shoes…” he trailed off as he began to move closer once more.

“But I guess I was wrong. You don’t back down from anything do you?” He said playfully looking down at you as the space between you became less, once more pushing himself against you. “Unh uh” you murmured with broken speech as you shook your head from side to side. So, he does see you? You thought. You went to move away when his hand grasped yours bringing your attention right back to him. You froze staring into his eyes as he spoke, trying to hear his words but being so distracted by him, it became difficult to decipher the meaning and context of what he said.

“My turn to ask a question” he said grasping both of your hands within his, gently rubbing his thumbs over the back of your hands from your knuckles to your wrists in slow circles. You nodded unable to speak, awaiting his question. What could he possibly ask? You would tell him anything. In this moment he held you prisoner, you couldn’t move if you wanted to. He held a gravity within his core so powerful you couldn’t help but be pulled in.

“Why don’t you ever look back?” He whispered. “What are you afraid of?” He spoke once more looking into your eyes examiningly. A loaded question for sure, the duality of the question alone knowing where you were, seemed almost oxymoronic. However, you knew what he meant. It wasn’t about this place; it was about you. You, yourself hadn’t truly come to terms with it, not knowing your own reasoning for why you never did. He leaned in slightly further, putting literal pressure on you. You fought hard internally to answer but felt it impossible. How could you focus when he stood so close to you. Your mind felt like mush, processing thoughts became the hardest of chores. Why must he put you on the spot like this? You thought.

“I-I don’t know” you muttered, still searching for an answer. “Were you scared of me? What people say?” He said leaning in closer. “Hell no!” You snapped back. “You’re the only person around here I actually think is real!” You replied without thinking. “It's okay.” He spoke softly, reaching his hand to grab a lock of hair from atop your shoulder, twirling it in his fingers as he spoke. You were now flat against the wall in the hallway near the dining room where he had you pinned. “I know you watch me too” he said as he leaned in to whisper in your ear once more. Your chest heaved as you inhaled deeply. Your mind raced as your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment. Had he seen you watching him at the farm on occasion, or at the diner? You suppose that obviously he had for him to mention that, but there’s no way he can know how you truly felt. The things you thought about him on a nightly basis when you were alone in your bed. The things you had imagined him doing to you as you gingerly slipped your hand beneath the waistband of your underwear to drown out the screaming outside with your own. Would he blush? He was so confident, so sure of himself. You wondered.

The familiar nightly rapping began at your doors as the creatures descended from the woods. Randall would be staying with you tonight. A fleeting thought so glaringly obvious yet it needed its own space and attention for you to acknowledge before it left once more, leaving a feeling of excitement and joy behind.

The noise had broken your concentration on each other as you both looked towards the direction of the sound. The voices murmured beyond the space of your home. No doubt saying the same things they did nightly, although tonight you had a feeling that they wouldn’t be much of a bother to you. Randall had a way of holding your attention, and he wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

Randall returned his attention to you once more. “Looks like I’ll have to stay here tonight” he said confidently with a smirk that crept across his lips, lifting on one side. “Is there somewhere we can go in here where we won't be bothered by...” he trailed off as he gestured toward the door. “Yeah” you said clearing your throat. “Follow me”.

You led him to the bedroom upstairs. It provided some solace from the noise but it wasn’t completely unavoidable. It was the only bedroom in the house and the only space furthest from the door's downstairs. "We can sit here”, you motioned to the bed as you sat upon its edge. He followed you through the door sitting right next to you on the bed. The pressure from his weight on the bed caused you to lean into him, once again pulled by his gravity. You let yourself slip closer, blaming the motions of the mattress as it flexed. You wanted so badly to just melt into him, for him to hold you, and for you to lay your head upon his chest. He felt so close yet so far.

You crossed your legs and turned to face him. Looking up at him behind locks of brown waves that fell in front of your face. You motioned to move them, brushing them behind your ear giving him your full attention. He was facing you as well as you searched to find the words to speak. “You don’t even know my name” you said suddenly. A thought that never surfaced but only came straight out without a filter. Without You acknowledging it or accepting it. But you were right, you didn’t even think he knew your name or much else about you.

“Y/n” he spoke defiantly. “Everyone knows everything about everyone around here, or at least they like to think they do. But yes, I do know your name y/n. I probably know a lot more about you than you think. I can tell a lot about a person just by watching them. Let’s call it a newly developed skill since living on the bus, I’ve become very observant. I also know that you know me, or are aware of me and for sure know my name considering the way word travels around here” he said cheekily while letting his eyes wander your body in earnest. A dimly lit room where you were closer to him than ever. He took his time looking at every aspect of you as if you were under a microscope.

“I'm not afraid of you”. You spoke. “Yeah, I hear what other people say, but I don’t know them and I don’t trust them. I don’t think I ever will. The only thing that frightens me, is this place. But I’ll be damned if I just sit around and do nothing. If anything, those people had the right idea! No one here is safe, it's all security theatre! We might as well just fend for ourselves. Whatever Boyd is doing, is clearly not working.”

You felt as if you could speak safely and openly with Randall. You quickly discovered that you really enjoyed his presence, perhaps it was just from being alone for so long but you truly felt connected to him in some way, you didn't know why and you didn’t really try to figure that out. For now, it was beyond your comprehension and you just found yourself going with the flow. You reminded yourself that this is probably the first time in a long time that you felt anything other than dread.

“I see” he said. “Sounds like you’re just as tired of this place and the people here as I am.” He spoke once more. “But I bet you wouldn’t do what needed to be done if it were too much. Even to just forget for a while” he jested. “What makes you think I wouldn’t? what gives you that impression?” You asked looking directly into his eyes. You truly wanted an answer. Did he think this was some kind of game? Of course, you would do what needed to be done in any respect or in any manner. Whether it be to forget for a night or to save everyone or anything in between. You scoffed once more at his sentiment; it was almost funny to you as much as it was slightly insulting. He continued teasing you in this way, little did he know, you liked it. He probably did know.

“I don’t know. I look at you and I see someone with good intentions who wants to do what it takes or what is needed but beneath the surface I feel like, you’re too good, too timid, and too shy. Not that that is at all a bad thing, it’s hard to find someone with a heart as good as yours in a place as terrible as this.” You sat there, mouth agape, remarking at his words. Sure, there was some truth to it but you felt the same could apply to him. You could see he put off this hard exterior shell, but in reality, beneath the surface he was scared like the rest of us and hated to be alone. His rough demeanor was only a way to hide that. You saw right through it. However, there he went again thinking you were someone who wasn’t capable or brave enough. Whether he truly though that or not, you would show him.

“You think so?” You retorted deviously. You could feel the tension in the room as a thickness once again lifted in the air. The room felt hot and the air felt heavy. A surge of heat rushed to your core and you shivered slightly. Randall reached a hand out, placing it gently on your thigh and began tracing his fingers lightly from your knee to your hip, then grabbing your leg and pulling you closer to him.

The screams outside got louder as they approached and then moved on catching your attention, and drawing your eyes from him once more. You felt his hand lift from your thigh to your face, directing your gaze back to him. "I can help you tonight, and you could help me”. He whispered, his face was soft, he seemed genuine as he caressed your cheek, watching and waiting for your reaction. You looked on, eye brows raised. You knew he could. In fact, you so badly wanted him to. This was just all happening so fast and your mind warbled trying to play catch up from the whiplash of a day you've had. The actions of the day swirling within your mind, unable to grasp at any single particular thought. “But I bet you won’t”. He said with a sly smile in a toying manner.

His words spilled out of his mouth in a cascade of sarcasm. Thought he knew you, you thought, laughing internally. He definitely did and he was using a weakness he had figured out in his favor. Perhaps there were good intentions behind his teasing, you found yourself not caring. He had just unknowingly awoken an animal within you that had been asleep for so long. A primal urge washed over you as you rose to the occasion. He wanted to help you forget? Oh no, you would be helping him tonight! If you were anything, you sure as hell were not a coward. Your eyes narrowed as a calculating smile swept across your lips. You fixed your gaze upon him, examining him. What is it he should want you to do? You could think of a couple things.

You stood letting his hand slide from your thigh as you rose. His eyes followed you with that smirk still lingering on his lips. You stepped in front of him, nudging your legs between his knees, spreading them apart as you leaned in closer. Placing a hand atop each knee and kneeling further in until you were eye level with him. “In what way would you want me to help you tonight, Randall?” you smiled innocently, mere inches from his face. You looked him up and down, stopping at his lips then meeting his eyes again. Shrugging your shoulders as if still waiting for his reply. You felt the muscles beneath your hands tense as his smile softened.

Randall slid one hand from your shoulder, up to your neck, stopping to caress your cheek. His eyes darted from yours to your lips before his hand slid gingerly behind your head to the nape of your neck, pulling you closer. You lifted your hands from his knees and placed them around his neck as his lips met yours in a fiery lock of passion. You immediately raised your knees on either side of his legs, straddling him and enveloping yourself into his kiss. Your heads tossing back and forth as you breathed sharply through your nose. His tongue heartily exploring your mouth. You pulled his tongue into your mouth, sucking on it before biting his soft pillowy lips and returning to the kiss with fervor.

Soft moans escaped your lips with every breath you took between kisses. You ran your hand over his chest feeling every curve and definition of his build as he used both hands to pull you closer onto him. Grasping your backside, a cheek squeezed in each hand tightly. You slid a hand under his flannel and he quickly shrugged it off, returning his attention to you. You were so enveloped in the feeling of him touching you. How long it had been you've waited for this, and how nice it felt. Your nightly fantasies becoming reality. You almost forgot what led you here, you didn’t care. In this moment you were engulfed in Randall, and it was the most content you’ve felt.

Randall wrapped his fingers in your hair, holding you to him as he feverishly attacked you with kisses of passion. Heavy breathing, teeth clanking, sloppy, messy, fucking fantastic. You had been slowly grinding on him as you continued kissing him. Moving your hips gently forward and back. You could feel his breath quicken as he began guiding you with his hands. Still grasping your backside, pushing and pulling you harder onto him. You could feel the wetness pool in your panties as you felt his manhood throbbing near his thigh. Only brushing against it slightly. You could feel Randall suck air through his teeth in a hiss as you continued to grind onto his length with his help.

He quickly tightened his grip, flipping you over onto the bed and standing in front of you. You took the free moment to remove your shirt, pulling it over your head, letting your hair cascade onto your bare shoulders, back, and chest. He remarked at your breasts for a moment before fumbling to kick off his shoes and undo his pants. You quickly reached out to stop him. “Let me help” you said in the same playfully teasing manner he had done so earlier. He grinned and put his hands up. “You’re right.” He said then gestured “please”.

You chuckled lightly as you got down from the bed, kneeling on the floor in front of him. You looked up at him as you undid his belt. He looked on approvingly, watching as you disrobed him. The outline of his length against his pants was prominent. You rushed to pull his jeans down, then his boxers, revealing his manhood. It snapped up with force. It was quite substantial in length as well as girth, it throbbed a bruised red, glistening at the tip. You felt your core ache and your mouth water.

You grasped him at the base, taking hold of him while looking up at him. You wanted to see his face when you took him in. How smug would he be then? His face still carried that sly smile as if he thought he was in control. You gently licked the precum from his tip, eliciting a slight grunt from him as he reeled at the heat of your mouth upon him. How easy it was to break him you thought.

You continued looking up at him as you danced your tongue along his frenulum, encircling it with your tongue before slightly sucking just the tip and stopping to see his reaction. He moved to lift up his shirt, you slid your hand underneath the space he provided. You traced the veins that wound their way along his v line. His skin was so soft, yet firm. His build was so athletic and toned. Touching him made you dizzy, he was just so perfect, and tonight, you’d make him whimper.

He looked down at you, locking eyes as you opened your mouth taking him in fully. Doing your best to relax your throat and accept him, taking him in as deeply as he could go until your nose hit his mound. You could feel his hands quickly grasp your head, gathering your hair into a ponytail, held by his hands. He immediately moved to hold you there. Your hands pressed against each thigh on either side as you fought to hold your breath while your throat hitched and lurched, gagging on him. Saliva began leaking out from both corners of your lips as your face turned red and spots began to fill your vision. Tears streaming down your cheeks.

Just then he let you go, pulling you back before he could bust. You breathed in deeply, catching your breath, as he held your face with one hand, squeezing your cheeks between his grip, pouting your lips. “So, fucking beautiful” he said between gritted teeth before returning his grip to your hair, gathering it in one fistful and holding his shirt up with the other. Before you finish catching your breath, your mouth was on him once again. Sliding his length in and out of your mouth, hitting the back of your throat every time. You forced yourself to take him all in every time, to gag on him. You could feel his cock spasm, leaking a salty precum. Each time you felt it, a gasp would escape his lips.

He took a moment, letting go of your hair to take his shirt off before returning his grip to your head. He met each motion of your mouth with thrusts of his own as he threw his head back in ecstasy. Faint moans escaped his lips each time you took him in fully. You watched as he looked back down, his mouth open, gritting his teeth with each inhale. His eyes looked on innocently, pupils enlarged, eyebrows raised, meeting in the middle as he continued between watching you and rolling his head back. His thrusts quickened as he grabbed each side of your face before pulling you away.

You looked up at him with glistening puffy lips, wiping at the corners of your mouth as he pulled you up, meeting you with a sloppy breathy kiss. Your breasts pressed firmly against his sternum, he reached down to squeeze and paw at them with one hand as he held you close at the small of your back with the other. Your tongues glided against each other, swirling in and out of your mouths until his hands firmly pushed you back onto the bed. His face hardened once more with that smirk that he held when he was confident, when he had control.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching as he gently yet forcefully undid your jeans and pulled them off of you before sliding his own off, kicking them onto the floor next to him followed by his boxers. He then gently placed a finger from each hand under the waistband of your panties. Slowly he wiggled them off of you, revealing you fully to him. You lifted yourself slightly so that he could pull them off. He carelessly tossed them aside before leaning down to kiss you once more. The cold air down below sent shivers up your spine, but warmth quickly brushed up against you and you felt yourself buck into him almost instinctively.

Your back arched as he slowly peppered kisses on his way down. Starting from your neck leading down your collarbones to your chest where he paid particular attention to your breasts giving them the full attention they deserved. He squeezed them tightly while lightly flicking his tongue over your nipple. The cold breeze from his breath intensifying the pleasure. You could feel your breath hitch once more, you ached for him, needed so badly for him to be inside you. You could feel yourself dripping for him the anticipation killing you mentally and physically.

He continued on kissing down your abdomen, laying a kiss on your belly button, kissing each hip before following it down to your mound where he gently nipped at you. You gasped at the feeling as he slid both hands under each side of each thigh, pulling you towards his face. You felt your breathing quicken as his face slowly disappeared behind your mound. Only his eyes left peeking over watching your every reaction as he slowly licked you from top to bottom. Licking up every drop of your slick. You tried hard to focus on him, the feeling of the pleasure. Your head snapped back as his tongue pressed inside you. Tasting you fully.

You let out a cry, the feeling of his tongue moving in and out of you, driving you to the brink of no return. You grabbed his head with both hands pulling him closer to you grinding into his face. He pulls away, replacing his tongue with two fingers and quickly moving his lips to your throbbing clit. He began working his fingers in and out of you as he flicked your clit gingerly with his tongue, sucking it gently between his lips. You bucked into his grip. You could feel his mouth form a smile on you as you tried so hard to grind on him, pulling his face into you once more. He continued on, fucking you even harder with his fingers, you threw your head back once again, moaning loudly in ecstasy. You felt as if you were about to explode you tried to close your legs but he used both hands to forcefully push them back open and hold them there while continuing to suck your clit furiously. He watched as your face contorted nearing your end.

Before you could feel yourself approaching your climax, he pulled his face away, hopping up onto his knees and pushing them between your legs, spreading them open and pushing himself against you. You look up at him pleadingly as his eyes hungrily wander your body. He takes his hands grabbing a top of each side of your hip, pulling you up to him and onto his thighs where he kneeled on the bed. His cock perched right at your entrance. His thumb encircled your clit, another soft moan escaping your lips. He laid you back down flat as he moved in to kiss you once more. Slowly tracing along your tongue with his, allowing you to taste yourself on him.

You once again felt him press against your entrance. Your body defied you, it was eager to know what he felt like. It bucked against him autonomously of its own accord and own volition. Not that your mind didn’t agree, it just wasn’t fast enough to keep up with your primal urge to be bred by this man. As if sensing your eagerness, he lifted one of your legs to your chest and leaned against it slowly pushing himself into you. “Fuuuck” he said in a low growl as he pushed the tip in, forcing himself in the rest of the way. You clenched around him as he slid inside if you, filling you completely. As tight as you were, he slid in so easily because of how insanely wet he made you. You looked deeply into his eyes as he lay his forehead upon yours. Your eyes, staring at him in a pleadingly innocent manner, almost as if you were ready to beg. His expression was fixed, stern, and focused. He looked so fucking sexy you thought. Buried deep inside you. “Randall, fuck!” You moaned in his ear in a strain watching as he pushed himself to the hilt within you.

You watched as his face slightly contorted with each thrust, how his lips thinned, and his jaw tightened. How every muscle in his body tensed, squeezing himself tightly against you. Each push was met with a moan from you, and a grunt from him as he picked up his pace. His length fully filling you with each push, bringing you so close to coming once again. The curve of his cock hitting your G-spot with each upward thrust, your body quivered and your legs shook beneath him.

“Feels so fucking good inside me!” You cried. “So fucking deep!” You moaned once more, arching your back and meeting each thrust of his with your own. He watched how you reacted and when he thought you were really enjoying yourself, he continued those actions. He didn’t lie, he was very observant. You put your leg down and crossed them both behind his back, pulling him to you closer as he continued pounding into you, throwing your head back into the comforter that lay halfway on the bed beneath you.

His thrusts grew more aggressive as he panted above you, resting his hand upon your throat to steady himself, squeezing slightly. He slowed, slipping out of you and rising up as you whimpered. With one hand he gently tapped your side, motioning for you to turn over. You climbed onto your knees in front of him. You were postured on all fours spread open for him. He slid his hand down your back, pushing you down onto the mattress, laying your chest flush against the now messy sheets and blankets. The comforter now laid on the floor in a pile of puffy fabric.

His hands gripped both sides of your hips as he crept closer to you on the bed, kneeling just behind you as you lay with your face buried, and your ass in the air. He swung his hand back and slapped your ass cheek with enough force it echoed with a ‘crack’ in the room and for sure left a red print of his hand. You jumped, yelping in surprise. He quickly rubbed the spot he had slapped, caressing the hot stinging flesh he left behind.

His length pressed firmly against your opening. With his thumbs he grasped each cheek, spreading you open for him as he pushed himself inside once more. He felt even deeper now, you cried into the sheets as you turned your head to look back at him. He continued holding onto your hips, digging his hands into the crease between your thighs and your waist. His fingers rested just beyond your bikini line as they applied pressure, pulling you toward him. "You're such a good girl” He began fucking you furiously, each thrust with the sound of a slap. You liked it when he was rough with you.

You locked eyes with him, “use me” was all you could muster to say in your breathlessness. His eyes darkened and a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. You watched behind strands of damp hair as he continued thrusting into you, harder each time. His moans low an guttural. His thrusts also became faster, pounding into your slick wet cunt like an assault, pushing you further into the mattress until your legs lay flat underneath him. He held you there like that as he continued. Placing both of his hands on your shoulders. Your face buried in the sheets, you screamed each time he buried himself within you. He was so deep, it hurt. You could feel him slam into your cervixe with each push. But it felt so fucking good. One of his hands slipped to the backside of your neck where he continued pushing, leaning in closely to peck your sweat tinged forehead as his cock continued beating into your cunt. You mewled at him, still begging for more.

He quickly and suddenly rolled you on top on him. You straddled him on the bed, his cock still twitching deep inside you. “Ride me” he said demandingly. Looking directly into your eyes with a face you would never say no to. You would do anything he demanded of you. You lifted each leg to steady yourself on your feet while remaining seated, feeling him throb within you. Watching his face twitch as you shifted positions, how his eyes watched your every move.

You met his eyes and locked gaze as you slowly began to bounce on top of him. His hands rested upon your thighs, slamming you down as you went, lifting his head from the bed and throwing it back as you continued moving up and down his length. “Y/n” he whimpered as you clenched around him. He hissed, sucking in air through his gritted teeth, using his hands to help rock you forward and backwards on top of him as you rose and fell. His face softened as you used your hands to explore his body. Caressing his abdomen and chest, reaching to his face and gently dancing your fingertips over his lips, enveloping him in a passionate kiss as you continued to grind into him. You sat up once more watching his face as you rode him. He pawed at your heaving breasts as they bounced above him. Squeezing them and caressing them.

His breathing quickened and your body felt light. You could feel his body tense underneath you. Your motions slowed as you approached your own climax. Bouncing less and grinding more, his cock, hitting the right spot every time. He reached his hands to your hips, pulling you closer onto him, pushing you back and pulling you forward. You could feel yourself clenching harder around him, focusing on the feeling.

He was grunting and breathing heavy with each push against him. He locked eyes with you once more under a furrowed brow. Watching as you writhed, and moaned atop of him, because of him. He drew great pleasure in seeing you enjoy yourself. But so did you. Focusing on his face as he felt you envelope him, feeling you from the inside. “Come for me?” you said pleadingly. He nodded, squeezing your hips, rocking you back and forth on him harder. Up, down, forward, back.

You could feel yourself tighten around him as you approached the precipice of your climax. His cock swelling inside you. Your orgasm took hold, striking through your body. You quivered and convulsed on top of him crying out loudly as you came. “Fuuuck, Randall I’m coming!” Your breath hitched as your climax ravaged your body, causing you to breath as if you had just jumped into a cold lake. You froze as the convulsions sent shockwaves through your body. You could feel his cock begin to spasm inside of you as his movements slowed, holding you to him as he pumped his seed deep within your trembling cunt. A long low animalistic groan escaped his lips, almost like a growl as he came. Each twitch of his member, filling you with the warmth of his essence. His face scrunched as his body twitched beneath you with each wave of his orgasm that swept over him. You continued riding him excruciatingly slow, letting pearls of his essence leak out of you.

As both of your breathing began to slow he reached up pulling your face towards his, stealing a sloppy tired kiss. He pushed himself up, and you slid off of him laying next to him. He then reached over, turning the knob for the bedside lamp to shut it off before sliding closer to you. Laying on the pillow beside you and facing you, he intertwines his legs with yours. His still swollen member rest a top your mid thigh as he pulled you closer to him.

He pulled the comforter from the floor to cover you, looking down at you, with one finger lifting your chin for another kiss. He closed his eyes and pressed his soft lips hard against yours, breathing in through his nose. He continued kissing your face before cradling you to his chest where you held onto him raising and wrapping one leg around him, listening to his heartbeat and being lulled to sleep by it. “Thank you” you heard him whisper while kissing the top of your head as you drifted to sleep within his arms, thinking of how sweet he was and how you managed to find a sliver of happiness here. How lucky you must be, you thought. There was no greater comfort you could ask for than Randall. In a place where you were forever lost, Randall felt like home.

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[heavenlyraindrops]

♱ Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Four ♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Four Warnings: slight profanity How to find the other chapters in my pinned post.

♱Where the purest soul in Heaven falls for the Devil♱

[Chapter Four]

You hadn’t been keeping track of the time. 

Say, a couple years ago, you never would’ve considered the possibility that you could end up in a room full of rubber ducks. In Hell. With Lucifer Morningstar. Or, what sort of situation could lead you into it.

But you supposed that life was full of surprises. 

You ran your finger along the side of the head of a random rubber duck you had decided to pick up. You heard a small gasp, and a hand shot out to snatch it out of your hands. 

“Careful,” Lucifer gasped. You stared at him blankly. 

“You don’t know what they can do…” he said sheepishly. You raised an eyebrow. 

“Sure.” 

He smiled at you. You crossed your legs, staring down at him in his chair from your perch on the table. “So, is this what you do with your highly important, influential, immortal existence? Create an army of rubber ducks?” You teased lightly. He tipped his head back in the chair, staring at the ceiling. 

“Maybe.”

You tilted your head, and your eyes drifted over to a painting on the wall. Standing up, you walked over, feeling golden eyes train into your back. You pointed at it, turning to face him. “Who are they?”

The question seemed to catch him off guard- he just stared at you as if you had threatened to strangle him. You furrowed your brows in concern. “What?”

 He cleared his throat. “Nothing. That’s my daughter and my… ex wife.”

“Oh,” you managed to utter, feeling a strange mix of regret and guilt burrowing it’s way into your chest. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked-“

“No, it’s fine,” he said quickly. “Ask away.”

“Are you sure?” The reply was a simple nod.

Curiosity killed the cat. You winced, trying to banish Sera’s voice from your head.

“Her name is Lilith, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

You shifted from foot to foot. “What’s your daughter's name?”

“Charlie- Charlotte.” 

You returned to where you originally were. “I take it she doesn’t live with you in this huge, erm, house?” 

Lucifer smiled wryly. “No, she… she’s off doing, uh…”

“You don’t know, do you?” You sighed. He shook his head. “It’s alright. Do you two not talk?” He shook his head, again. 

You dragged over a chair to sit next to him, and reached out for his hand. He didn’t shy away from your touch as you intertwined your fingers. The cold metal of a ring- you glanced down- his wedding ring, pressed against your skin. 

The air slowly filled with a thick silence, until he broke it.

“She left to chase whatever dreams she had a while after Lilith left.” His next words were bitter. “She just left- Lilith, I mean. Just disappeared.”

You glanced at him, and he laughed. “But whatever. It’s been years. She’s clearly not coming back. I’ll just have to move on.” 

“You’re clearly not trying,” you pointed out, tapping a finger against the thick gold band. He sighed, then looked up at you suddenly. 

“What?”

“I’ll take it off.”

“Seriously? I didn’t mean-“

“No, you’re right.” He stood up and went over to a drawer in the corner. You watched as he pulled the ring off his hand and dropped it in one of them, then locked it with a key sitting on the top. “Catch.”

You caught the key as it came flying through the air towards you. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it. Or toss it, I don’t care.”

You buried it in the depths of your satchel. “Fine,” you muttered. You could see his pleased smile in your peripheral. 

♱♱♱

“Fuck! [name]!”

You yelped as you fell into a giant pile of rubber ducks. The smell of- well, rubber- attacked your senses, almost suffocating. You gasped, emerging in a flurry of rolling yellow ducks to see Lucifer standing over you, stifling his laughter. 

“Do you not have, like, places to keep these…” you gestured agitatedly at the colony of artificial creatures surrounding you. “Specimens?”

“They’re ducks.”

“I know they’re ducks.”

He grinned as he offered his hand towards you. 

A scream sounded out outside. Two black shapes zipped across the red sky, the scene framed by the window you were staring out of. It was behind Lucifer, framing his silhouette as he turned around to glance outside. The scream had dissolved and the shapes had disappeared. Lucifer glanced back at you.

You stared at him and gulped, frazzled.

“Are you sure your… friends aren’t looking for you?” You took his arm and he pulled you up. But didn’t let go. 

“I hope not.”

Lucifer stared at your face, intensely, as if he was trying to memorise it. You flushed and turned away. “Maybe it was a bad choice you made, seeing me.”

You laughed nervously. “It’ll be fine. Plus, you hardly left me with much of a choice.”

He smiled, and his eyes seemed to glitter in the dim light. “We all have choices, angel.”

It knocked the breath right out of you. 

You stared at him, then turned away again. “Sure, whatever.”

You heard his low chuckle behind your back as you walked away. 

♱♱♱

The pentagram would be closing soon. 

You grappled with the window, until Lucifer sighed and pushed you to the side, gently, opening it up for you. It swung open soundlessly as you clambered onto the windowsill, wings poised for flight. 

“Angel, wait.”

You stared at him as something closed around your wrist. You looked down. A bracelet. “Huh?”

He held up his own wrist. The bracelet on it was identical to yours. “First thing I’ve made since a rubber duck.”

“…a bracelet.”

He held his finger up to your lips to silence you. You flushed. “Not just any bracelet,” he said, the pride evident in his voice. “It’s for communication. And you’re the perfect person to help me test it out over long distances. You press the stone on the front, and mine will buzz and light up. Vice versa.” 

“We are worlds apart.” The sentence seemed to strike a strange feeling in you, one of melancholy. Lucifer, however, seemed unfazed.

You knew that, deep down, you’d give in anyways. 

“Fine, I’ll do it.”

♱♱♱

The morning light filtered through the window and onto your bed as you emptied out your satchel. Your notebook and pen dropped onto the covers soundlessly. The apple bounced off the corner of the frame, rolling across your rug. 

As you leaned down to pick it up, you heard something else clatter onto the floor.

You turned and stared at the ground where it lay, next to your foot.

The key, glinting in the pale light.

You kicked it under your bed. It spun away into the shadows with a final flash.

You sighed, shoulders relaxing, and sat onto the bed, leaning over your arm, staring at the bracelet. The stone in the middle was flat, in the shape of an apple, and a 

metal snake coiled around the band of the bracelet. Pretty. 

You pressed the stone. Buzz.

It lit up as you touched it. A few seconds ticked by. 

Buzz. 

You flinched as it lit up and vibrated, by itself too, then let out a deep breath. He was on the other side. It worked. 

Knock knock knock. 

You stiffened.

The knocking started up again, more relentless this time. You scrambled forward, quickly picking your way across your living room and opening the door.

“Lute?”

She smiled thinly, crossing her arms and glaring at you. The look on her face made your heart sink down to your shoes and dribble out in a puddle onto the floor. You gulped.

“[name],” she said coldly. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

♱♱♱

A/N: Stay Tuned!

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[demiromanticmickey]

On today's "I am SO not normal about Dead Friend Forever": Discussing Catholicism and Colonization in this gay Thai slasher series

Some background on me: I am from a Latine Catholic family. Raised as a non-practicing Catholic (we didn't go to church or pray). Then my parents enrolled me in a Catholic school that I attended from 5th grade to the end of 7th grade. Today, I am not Catholic and have never really considered myself as such.

Ok, so in the flashback episodes of DFF, I have been noticing a lot of things. My findings under the cut.

Let's start with this crucifix and photo of the Virgin Mary and a baby Jesus.

Screenshot from ep. 5.

The camera lingers here a bit so we're obviously meant to pay attention to the phrase. I put the screenshot through Google translate's image translator and the translation it gave me was, "Think good, do good, be a good person." I didn't think much of it when I first watched the episode other than it was supposed to establish that the boys attend a Christian or Catholic school.

But then there was this image posted on Be On Cloud's Instagram (also from ep. 5): X

Zooming in, we can see there's another picture of Mary in the background. Watching the classroom scenes, it's easy to miss because the series itself is more washed out than the official photos posted. But this emphasis on Mary led me to believe the school is a Catholic one. So out of curiosity, I looked up the schools the writers and directors attended because I felt I was onto something here. And boy, was I!

Source: MDL

Ma-Deaw, if you didn't know, is one of the directors of Dead Friend Forever (he also directed Manner of Death and Inhuman Kiss , and lots of other things).

One Google search later (X) and I learned "Montfort College" is a Catholic school. It started out as a primary school that later added a secondary school as well.

Now let's take a closer look at some of the details of this school:

First, the school's motto "Labor Conquers All Things". This reminded me of the phone conversation Tee had with his uncle:

On my first watch, this sounded familiar to me but I couldn't really place why. It wasn't until I saw this other Tumblr post (X) that pointed out it's similar to a bible quote from the New Testament. The quote varies a bit depending on which version of the bible you're using but it's along the lines of, "He who does not work, neither shall he eat".

This is meant to discourage "laziness". Nevermind the fact that people deserve to eat simply because we get hungry and need food to survive. The idea that we only "deserve" things based on productivity is an extremely colonial one. — Reminder also that Tee is being forced into this "work" in the first place. He's just a high school kid. I don't need to like his character to understand how fucked up his situation is.

Then there's the patron of the school. St. Louis de Montfort was a French Catholic priest most known for his study in Mariology. What is Mariology (X)? The study of Mary, the mother of Jesus. I didn't know that was a thing but it's unsurprising considering how prominent images of Mary were in my own religious upbringing. And she's what started me down this rabbit hole in the first place. Mary is a big deal to the Catholics. I'm going to be paying even more attention now if more Mary imagery pops up.

The Garden of Eden and Original Sin

Now I want to draw attention to these images:

Screenshots from ep. 7

Here we have Non and Phee biting into an apple as they leisure around this lush green field. We know they've visited this location more than once because they're wearing different outfits in the screenshots. And I think it's important to note that it's Phee holding the apple and offering it to Non.

The use of the word "bait" in the bts of ep. 7 is quite interesting too. (X)

The Garden of Eden was the paradise in which Adam and Eve resided. In this garden, there were many trees to eat from. The one tree Adam and Eve were forbidden by God to eat from was the Tree of Knowledge. A serpent (Satan), first tempted Eve into taking from the tree to eat it's fruit. And then Eve gave the fruit to Adam. That is Original Sin. And because Adam and Eve ate from the Tree of Knowledge, all humans thereafter are born sinful and bad, and can only find salvation through God.

Of course in the scene between Phee and Non, the sin the apple represents is being gay. And it's after this, and after the bracelet scene, that Non becomes involved with Por's film and his tragedy begins.

Zoomed in screenshot from ep. 5

And I wonder if the bracelet scene is the last time Phee and Non visit this forest location. It would parallel how Adam and Eve were cast out of the Garden of Eden once they sinned.

Final Thoughts

You give me a story that criticizes Western religion and how it's used as a tool for oppression and colonization, and I'm gonna eat that shit up. I am gonna eat it up. Every. Single. Time.

I really wasn't expecting anything like this from Dead Friend Forever. This level in attention to detail is unmatched. I don't think I've watched a more well planned out show. And no matter where DFF goes from here, these seven episodes will always hold a special place in my heart. 💗

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

I am I the asshole for telling someone what they were doing was "mean spirited and cruel"?

(submitted this a while back but was never posted - don't know if tumblr ate it or if it broke a rule, but i'm sorry if its the latter)

My complex has a facebook page where residents can post questions or concerns to other residents. One day a woman posted asking if we could move the food bowls where people feed the feral cat colony that lives near us because when she walks her dogs they always lunge at the cats; she had just had surgery and it hurt when they pulled on the leash. Someone responded saying they had moved the bowls down and that seemed like that.

Two days later she posted again saying that our "kind and caring neighbor" (her) had called someone to come pick up the cats. From another comment on the post it seemed like she had talked to someone IRL who was rude and basically told her "I've been feeding the cats for 10 years fuck off" and then called animal control immediately after that.

This felt really petty to me, and I posted saying that calling animal control on the cats was "mean spirited and cruel". I explained that almost all feral cats taken in are put down, and that she was making a decision about the community's cats without consulting the community. I added that I was sorry she had been hurting since her surgery, but that there were other steps she should have taken before this.

She responded that I needed to have more compassion for her as she herself was very compassionate and caring person. To which I responded that she should then extend that compassion to these cats that had never hurt anyone. (Seriously, they just chill around our complex and eat rats – they’ve never scratched or bit any person or animal)

She responded that they hurt her “fur babies” everyday because they make her dogs pull at their leashes and choke themselves. She then went on a rant about how she didn’t understand why people weren’t respecting her anger and that since she lived here she had a right to want the cats gone. She also mentioned that calling her “mean spirited and cruel” had racial connotations and that I wouldn’t call a white person that.

Important context, I am a white woman – up until this point I had not realized that she was a black woman as this argument was in a facebook group and the pictures were small. But it is very possible this is something I saw and internalized without consciously recognizing it.

I was really thrown by this, and just replied yes, I would and that I’m sorry it hurt to hear, but that is what her actions were. (Which, yeah, nobody ever not in the racist category uses the ‘I’d say that to anyone!’ excuse, but I truly didn’t know what to say). She continued to respond to my comment saying how I was a pitiful person if I’d really call anyone that, and that I hadn’t addressed any of her other points.

More people where commenting at the same time on this post, and while she responded to all of them my “mean spirited and cruel” comment apparently really got her because she kept bringing it up in arguments with other people. She really felt that people were being unjustifiably angry and mean to her for something she thought she had a right to do.

It also came out that she had apparently posted complaining about the cats the day before but it had gotten so out of hand the post was deleted before I could see it. She had also gotten into several arguments IRL with people feeding the cats. This explains why she felt so ganged up on I suppose – though none of this I knew before replying.

The next day she specifically made a new post calling out racists in our community and tagged me and few other people (even other POC) who had disagreed with her about the cats. I didn’t respond, but fairly quickly that and the post from before were deleted.

I’ve been really trying to think about if my internalized racism did unknowingly influence my actions, but I honestly keep coming back to the fact that I think I would have said the same to anyone who tried to get a cat colony killed because her dogs try to attack them.

Also for those curious – the cat colony is still here! It turns out removing a cat colony from their home is actually considered animal cruelty and is illegal in this state

What are these acronyms?

[superbdragoncollection-stuff]

"We did it, but others told us to."

We thought it would be fun. Wars were always a civilized business after all. It was supposed to be grand, sweeping, and romantic. Two armies would clash, there would be lots of daring do, and once this grand conflict was over that was that. You didn't hold a grudge. It was a relief from the boredom of jobs at home. You got done, shook hands, picked up the dead, and that was that. We didn't have a quarrel with the other male, this was between our bosses, see? It's the way of things. We challenge a dominant power to see who is better.

We were just following orders.

We took their Jupiter bases and wondered what all the hubbub was about further inward. Something about the targets we hit. I didn't understand. Sure the bases didn't have any weapons, but this was war. We were doing our jobs.

They opened up on us at the asteroid belt, with hundred megawatt transportation lasers and mass drivers. We didn't expect that. This was supposed to be civilized! They made us fight our way through the belt, forcing us to lose ten fighters for every kilometer of space. They were using civilian equipment against us! Those lasers were for high speed transportation, those mass drivers for cargo delivery! Why did they not use proper warships? We were just doing our jobs.

The Martian colony, here we thought would be the great decisive battle. They threw dozens of ships against us. They used their megawatt lasers and mass drivers. Their reaction drives burned out anything that got close. They screamed their hate at us and we didn't understand. We were just doing our jobs.

We dropped bombs on their colonies, we seized their stations. We took them fair and square. But they were savage. Our troops landed and they were gunned down by heavy machine guns. Machine guns designed hundreds of years ago! And their designs had stayed the same. Their rifles and tanks were certainly different, but that machine gun, that Browning, had stayed the same. And they screamed at us. They called in close air support, they planted mines, they did everything they could to bleed us dry. We destroyed what the officers said to. We blew up domes. We destroyed train lines. Even those that had nothing to do with the war effort. So what? What's that got to do with us? We did it, but others ordered us to. And isn't it our right as conquerers? We were just doing our jobs.

Their anger only grew worse. As we moved, they continued to throw everything they had at us. Soldiers sacrificed themselves so their fellows could retreat in good order. They did those kamikaze runs they are so proud of. And the prisoners were angry. We gave them supplies, and still they cursed us. We tried to be nice, to compliment them on their skills, and they were silent. They called it "interrogation". We called it friendly chats.

"Why do you force us to destroy so much expensive material? Damage to private property is very uncouth, you know! It's very expensive!"

"You bombed civilian targets!" The fighter pilot snapped at us, "What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Your people use private machinery rather than weapons to fight us! Well you do both, but that's beside the point!"

"We didn't hide troops in civilian domes!" The pilot shouted.

"That was what we were ordered to do. It was not my doing. The commanders simply felt a show of force was necessary."

"Necessary?! You son of a--!" We had to restrain her then.

"What inspires this loyalty?" I demanded, "You fight as though more depends on you than your life! What demands such high sacrifices?"

"If it means beating baby killers!" She snarled, her head pinned by one of my soldiers. She managed to move it, "We'll throw everything we've got at you! Someday we'll defeat you! And then you'll see who's laughing!"

I was flummoxed. "Why do you do this? Why do you fight so hard? You're only doing your job!"

She seemed confused by that. "Of course I am!"

I knelt down to where three of my soldiers held her, "Yes! So why fight so hard? Why do you defy us like this? Why do you make us kill and destroy private property?"

She seemed baffled. "What do you mean? I fight because I'm part of the UN Defense Force! Why else?"

"But you don't need to fight this hard. We fight, one of us loses, we shake hands! That's war!"

She looked befuddled, "The fuck is wrong with you, *bug*? What kinda war is that? Sounds like a slapfight!"

I tried to dumb it down for her. "You plant mines. You set traps. You crash your ships into ours. What kind of war is that? What inspires this loyalty, this desire to sacrifice so much? You are but an employee of your masters. They demand no less than you doing your job, and no more. You do not need to go beyond!"

She confusedly said, "Because that's war, idiot."

By the time we reached the lunar perimeter, our force was battered beyond belief. Forces were still fighting over Mars, and the Mercury and Venus attacks had been blunted. We finally encountered their war fleet. Many of the ships were barely finished. They had been pulled out of the dock yards still with workers aboard. Why was that? Our leader hailed their fleet admiral. He congratulated them for their clever tactics and admonished them for their unsavory techniques. He gave them a list of booty to recover, requested a refuel, and gave them a time frame for when we would be on our way. The war was over, we'd made it to their homeworld. This is how the great competitive wars are always done. Something about this confused the Admiral. "This isn't a game!" They spat. "War isn't defending dots on a map! It's death! Vast organized death! Are you telling me you came all this way for FUN?!"

"No, we came here to see who is better."

"That's the same thing."

"No it isn't." Our leader said dismissively. He paused, "Tell me, what inspires this loyalty in you? Aren't you just doing your jobs?"

"What?"

"You're just following orders. So are we. What inspires this unthinking, undying loyalty? You're just following orders, as all civilized beings should. We are just following orders." The comm line went dead. The humans unleashed a terrible display of firepower. They learned a long time ago that loyalty is not simple deference. And that war is more than just orders, it is not romantic.

War is not a game to them.

[kiingkiismet]

You ARE selfish. Why should I vote for the ones who have been actively committing genocide against my people for almost a year?

Why do you all expect Palestinians and other Arab-Americans to get over it and vote to protect your rights and lives when you’ve all done everything you can to show us that OUR rights and lives are apparently the only ones that don’t matter?

First of all—no matter what we do, voting is supposed to be harm reduction and there’s always going to be something negative. Black Americans (psst: that’s me) for the longest time have been voting for the “least harmful option” for decades even IF those people are still harmful to some degree. Honestly, the best case scenario that could’ve happened is if colonialism didn’t happen 400+ years ago, but here we are.

Like I said in my original post, there IS no perfect option, and doing nothing will only allow the OTHER option to succeed. Yknow, the orange fuck and his posse of conservatives who objectively want to strip everyone of their rights and will definitely still be supporting Israel with what they’re doing. Instead of narrowing in and making it an individual moral matter, it should be “what else are we to do that will cause the LEAST amount of harm possible?” Which is what I and others are trying to do. Pointing fingers and telling people, especially other people of color in the same fucking boat that we are selfish is very unhelpful. Read the room, we are ALL in danger here!

Because if you missed it when I said it time and time again, I am ALSO a minority in this country. I will ALSO get harmed and if I am at risk of harm and death (more than I already am given police brutality, threat of trans healthcare, lack of investigation in murders of BIPOC and queer folk, etc.), how can I help other people further?? Dead people can’t help others.

I DO care about Palestinians AND other minorities in this country and outside of it, we are all in the same fucked up boat here. No one is telling yall to get over it, that’s wrong and that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying the other option will not care about me, and they sure as shit will not give a shit about yall.

I do not think Kamala is a saint, but she’s leagues better than two white men who are so damn myopic and can’t see the suffering of anyone who is not them, at least it will buy us time (4 or 8 years) to find another suitable candidate that better represents the people and hurt us even less than her. There was no time between the beginning of this year and now to get a new candidate that all Americans can collectively agree upon to stamp trump out. That is virtually impossible—and if you say it isn’t, you have clearly forgotten what happened in 2016 where we tried that and ended up getting trump.

Do not tell me that I do not care when it’s yall and other minorities ALL AT ONCE in danger when the trump administration wants ALL OF US dead and will CONTINUE wreaking havoc internationally as well. We CANNOT let that happen so Kamala is literally the ONLY option.

[best-overplayed-song]

As someone who never understood the hype around Take Me To Church and keeps forgetting that song even exists, can I ask the fans what exactly it is you like about that song? Because my current hypothesis is that yall were around 14 when it came out and music just hits different when you're 14. What else is there to like, genuinely

I try to stay unbiased here but Hozier is one of the only musicians I allow myself to be pretentious about, so before i info dump about why i love take me to church here's some other hozier songs you should give a shot:

francesca [i'd go through hell again just to hold you one more time], nina cried power [song about activism and black activists], swan upon leda [about the violence of colonialism, misogyny, and religious bigotry], eat your young [about the violence of war, capitalism, and generational trauma], movement, to noise making (sing), shrike, NFWMB [sexy], sunlight

anyway take me to church is so much more than just “loving you is like church”. he starts off by telling us how happy his lover makes him, despite constantly being told by The Church he was born sick and his happiness is a result of sinful behavior. he rejects the religion being forced on him, because unlike christianity, his church doesn't force him to accept absolution to reach heaven ("my church offers no absolutes / she tells me, 'worship in the bedroom' / the only heaven I'll be sent to / is when i'm alone with you"). the last two lines of the first verse-- "i was born sick, but i love it / command me to be well"-- questions why a god would create us to be inherently sick only to punish us for being sick.

i see the the chorus as a smart-ass comparison of his relationship to christianity. The Church expects him to blindly worship their lies and confess his sins, which he knows will be used against him ("take me to church / i'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies / i'll tell you my sins and you can sharpen your knife"), but he's supposed to accept this and devote his life to God so he can get to heaven ("offer me that deathless death / oh good god, let me give you my life"). by offering to do this for his lover, he's equating their love to religion.

in the second verse, he reiterates that he worships his lover with a metaphor ("if i'm a pagan of the good times / my lover's the sunlight"). the subtle remark of referring to the ancient practice of paganism as "the good times" comments on the colonization and forced conversion of ireland by christian england, which criminalized paganism. immediately after stating how his lover demands a sacrifice, he hungrily eyes the high horse The Church sits on, and questions what power they have over him and his people ("that's a fine lookin' high horse / what you got in the stable? / we've a lot of starving faithful"). this could also be a reference to the irish potato famine, which was not a result of drought, but of english lords forcing the irish to turn over their entire crop to send to england.

then we get the most poetic description of sex i've ever heard: "no masters or kings when the ritual begins / there is no sweeter innocence than our gentle sin / in the madness and soil of that sad earthly scene / only then, i am human / only then, i am clean". fuck man

a lot of gay people with religious trauma love this song bc of everything i described above. also, it's a fuckin banger.

and yes i was 14 when it came out. what about it

[jpitha]

Between the Black and Grey 71

First / Previous / Next

The atmosphere aboard the dreadnought was tense. There were a few moments of negotiation about whether Penny would go over to Gord's ship, or Gord to Penny's but in the end, Gord blinked first. Probably because he knew that Home still had their stardrive pointed at Penny's ship.

The ships connected, Gord and Chloe came over and were led to a conference room right off the airlock. A steward - knowing they were both AIs - offered them coffee or tea, and to her immense surprise, Gord accepted. A few moments after the coffee was delivered, Penny and Zhe came in. As she stepped in, a guard attempted to follow them, and Zhe stared at him and shook her head. His eyes flicked to Penny's and she nodded, and he saluted sharply and stepped back out.

"That was the 'this is insane, but you are the commander, so I will do what you say' salute if I ever saw one." Gord said, grinning around his coffee. Penny looked at Gord, surprised. Zhe just smirked and flicked her ears.

As they both sat Gord put his coffee down. "Feeling a little overwhelmed, Empress? It's okay, we're among friends here."

Penny glared at Gord for the barest split second, then her shoulders slumped and she leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling. "I have no idea what I'm doing." She said to the ceiling. Penny continued, "Fen left on the expeditionary force - I told her she didn't need to go, but she insisted, then we get an emergency beacon from the K'laxi of all people saying that they're breaking away from the Empire, oh and not only that they are fighting against the nanites - which the general public didn't know about - but now they do, and that there isn't an Empress anymore and what can we do but assume she was killed along with the expeditionary force!" She tilted her head just enough to see Gord, "they were destroyed I assume?" He nodded once. She looked back up at the ceiling. "I immediately declare myself Empress - along with about a dozen other people across colonial space and now it's a race to see who can build the largest coalition of support and-" she sighed "-probably fight a couple of civil wars before the new leader of humanity is declared." She sat up and locked eyes with Gord. "Then, I scramble to get whatever ship will let me on out to Home so I can go ask the AIs - who just recently came back and said they were willing to work with us - for help figuring out what the fuck is happening, and I get ignored and sure, maybe I overreact a little and sent a couple shots over your bow to get your attention. Someone from out past Jupiter tells me to stuff it, and then Home aims their stardrive at me. So yes Gord, I am feeling 'a little overwhelmed'" She trudges over to the sideboard in the conference room, pours a water, downs it in one gulp, pours another, and then sits back down. "So then, Gord and Chloe, representatives of the AI faction, what do you want to discuss."

Chloe shifts awkwardly in her seat. "Well, we-"

"Did you know I was a spy?" Penny said, unprompted. "My aim never was for power. I was assigned to watch Fen, keep my superiors apprised about what she was doing - mostly with her K'laxi black projects team - and to try and steer her away from any actually damaging courses of action. I wasn't supposed to fall for her!" It was practically a wail. "I know she holds a candle for her dead wife and will probably never actually love anyone else, doesn't matter I still loved her! Now, she's gone, and I don't know if she's alive or dead, and the Nanites are acting real strange and the whole thing is going to crash down, and if I survive the next year it'll be an Ancestors provided miracle." She stifled a sob and took another sip of water and sniffed. "So, if you have any idea where Fen went, please, please tell me."

Gord looked at Chloe. There was a second of them staring at eachother. Communicating? Just staring? Zhe wasn't sure. Finally Chloe blinked and scoffed. "Fine." She said.

"Well Penny - Penelope - Empress..." Gord said, kindly. "We don't exactly know... anymore."

****

Fen drifted in and out of conciseness. Her suit had her partially reclined, and she was well supported, and the suit was warm and quiet and she was so tired. So very tired. Was she sleeping, or was she passing out? Did it matter? She blinked and the gray of the virus took up a small portion of the nebula. She blinked again, and half the nebula was gray. Blinking again, it was all gray. Shit, this was bad. "Suit?" She said. "How long has it been since we linked here?"

TWENTY STANDARD SOL HOURS.

Nearly a day. Didn't feel like it. She ached, her limbs felt tired and cold and she wasn't hungry. Shouldn't she be hungry? She drank a little water from the straw near her mouth, and suddenly her mouth was incredibly parched. She sucked the water in greedy slurps until the pouch was empty. It would refill overtime from expelled moisture from her breath, and processed waste, and even from the spare oxygen and hydrogen it could capture from interstellar space, but, she might get one more pouch of water that way. If she was going to survive she needed to do something.

"But what, Fen? What the fuck do I do now?" She said to herself. There was nobody near, nobody who knew where she was - unless Gord or Chloe thought to scan for the backpack's link signature. Supposedly that was possible, but it was difficult, and not terribly accurate and would... require them knowing... she left. Dammit. Chloe knew she left, Fen thought, but she had cut her comm.

Wait a moment, the backpack had enough power for two trips, one 'there' and one 'back.' She brought up the link backpack's overlay and... yes, it could link exactly one more time.

But where?

She could link back to Sol, but would anyone be able to find her in time? Did the backpack have a directory of common locations? If she linked in the middle of the shipping lane for Parvati, would they see her, or would she just be another bit of debris destroyed by the stationkeeping lasers of a Starjumper linking in? Scrolling through the settings, Fen saw that it didn't really have a directory. The backpack was clearly one step above a prototype. There was a log of previous addresses, but they didn't detail where they were. Her only option was to wait here, and hope Gord or Chloe put two and two together and got six, or link back to Sol, and scream on comms until she died, or was rescued.

Fen sighed. Was it even a choice?

She toggled the return, and the backpack linked her away from the white hole, and the remains of the nanites.

Fen sat on the forest floor, hugging her knees. Ma sat next to her, leaning her head on Fen's shoulder. "You should be proud hon. You did it." She straightened up. "Not only that, but you did it yourself, with your own idea. It wasn't Gord's idea, or Zhe's, or Penny's or mine. It was yours."

Fen smiled as she clutched her knees. "I am pretty awesome, aren't I?"

"You know I know you are." Ma said, her ears flicking.

"But Ma, what am I going to do now? Defeating the nanites was just the start. If I get picked up, If I survive, If we can figure out the K'laxi..."

"All decisions you have the privilege, the honor to make, because you took the step to stop the nanites. Humanity is in charge of their destiny again. The other stuff?" Ma nuzzled Fen's neck. "That's just details."

Fen was in space still, but this was different. For one, the yellow-white light of Sol shone on her, warming her suit, not the sharp blue white of the white hole. For another, her comm lit up with dozens of frequencies, all clearing for the emergency trill of her rescue beacon. For a third... three quarters of Fen's view was taken up by the colony ship the AI called Home, only a couple hundred kilometers away.

Of course. She was on Gord's ship before and that was right next to Home. She'd return to the same location, and would naturally still be next to home. Fen sighed and drifted off as red and white sparkles of emergency ships soared towards her.

[kariachi]

Okay, but I am not acknowledging the fucking "oh firelizards return to where they were laid to clutch" shit from canon, for a few reasons.

1- How do they know?

Seriously, question of the day, how does a firelizard that hatched in High Reaches know they were laid in Ista, to give an example? It can't be that their minds reach that far, we've got no example of that and even if we did how the fuck do you know you got laid by these bitches and not those bitches. So is it a genetic memory thing?

2- How the fuck are these golds coming back in even decent shape?

The greens I can understand, they lay their eggs and are done with it, but the whole Thing with golds is that they're very maternal and guard the shit out of their eggs. They're also a highly social species that would have a whole fair helping them in the wild, which they're not gonna have if they just popped in from a whole other part of the planet. So by all rights those ladies should be starving themselves, running themselves ragged. The golds that return should be in awful shape and there should be those that don't return at all. But nope, not even a concern. Yeah.

3- How the fuck is this supposed to work with what we've seen of firelizard social structure?

Specifically, we never see two wild golds in the same fair. We never see two wild fairs in the same location. The only times we see golds in the same place is in captivity and in dragons, and even then how well they get on varies wildly and easily dives straight into violent territoriality. When we see wild gold nests, they're never in proximity to other wild gold nests. But we're expected to believe that an exponential number of fairs return to the same beaches every year to clutch? By this standard the little gold from Menolly's story should have been sharing the cove with her mother, and sisters, and aunts, and cousins, and-

4- Firelizard survival methods don't support this.

Okay, I need you to look at species who do shit like this. Take a look, they all have one of two traits so far as infant survival.

A) They're seasonal breeders that produce a whole hell of a lot of children while providing no parental care, relying on sheer numbers to ensure success and banking on the fact everyone is doing the same in the same place to increase the odds of their own young surviving.

B) They're seasonal breeders that gather in massive colonies to breed, producing few young and giving them more care while counting on the fact everybody is producing babies at the same time to increase the odds of somebody else's baby getting eaten instead of theirs.

Now let's look at firelizards. They gather in individual breeding groups, but not in colonies or really any form of multi-breeding-group clustering. The greens produce multiple small clutches that receive no care. The golds produce a single large clutch that is meticulously guarded. We have reason to believe that green and gold offspring both receive dedicated care upon hatching. We have no reason to believe they're seasonal breeders, doubly so with greens, so these babies are spread out over the course of a year or several.

So they're not making massive numbers all at once and leaving them to luck. They're not seasonally gathering in large groups to shield and tend small numbers of offspring. They, by all accounts, form individual groups with their own seeming territories within which they produce variable numbers of young into whom the group puts in work. Not a system that leads to fucker evolving a 'return to the place of my birth' instinct. If anything it's a system that leads to wider dispersal over time.

And the seasonality thing is important, because without it you could almost make an excuse for greens (there's no excusing golds), but given they just Rise whenever, they simply aren't getting any fucking benefits from the system.

There is, from a Watsonian perspective, no reason that firelizards would have this trait. In fact, there's every reason for it to be counter to what we know about firelizards, wild and in general. And the way it's portrayed simply doesn't make sense within the confines of the settings- where the vast majority of tame firelizards (that's a question, how long does a population have to remain wild before they stop being classed as 'feral', given the firelizards were force-domesticated and then took over) would have no reason to know where they were laid over where they hatched, and there seems to be no repercussion on the golds for fucking off without a fair to guard a clutch they, what, abandon afterwards? Seriously, what happens to these gold clutches, we don't hear anything about golds coming back with offspring but also the golds seem to come back too soon to have raised them up?

Meanwhile, from a Doylist perspective, the entire concept is a poorly utilized attempt to keep firelizards 'special' so that they can continue to be used as a symbol of in-universe status and how how Important a character is. Something that could have better been done (though I think bothering at all is a waste of potential) by having tame firelizards produce few or no successful clutches, a problem to be solved over time as people learn about them. Could even be something they get from AIVAS, just being like "yeah no stop feeding them so much meat, you rich bastards, it's messing with their nutrition" or some shit. Ancient firelizard knowledge lost to time.

[agendabymooner]

pag-ibig, traducido (love, translated) || cs55 fic

carlos sainz x ofc (filipino!content creator!ofc)

EXTENSION TO RIDE HOME

Summary: Magdalena ‘Magda’ and Carlos Sainz can bring the two worlds together through words and actions. OR, moments in which the Filipino woman and her Spanish husband learned to love each other while learning more about what they know about themselves. 

Content warning: Use of explicit language, shitty Tagalog/Filipino and Spanish translations, a lot of Spanish colonial and Filipino history jokes, parental abandonment, brief reference to religious and cultural practice (weddings), mentions elopement, secret marriage, briefly mentions PR relationships/girlfriends, time skipping, what is beta reading lol

Note: The last part of this story is loosely based on the idea given to me by @clairalle and the song 'Paninindigan Kita' by Ben&Ben so thank you so much! ❤️

Letting you all know that some Filipino dialogue here are translated based on how I know it in both English and Tagalog language??? And also, there are some words in here that are the same in context BUT written in two different spellings - some of the words are spelled based on phonics or how it sounds. Enjoy xx

masterlist

i. 2016 — shit, ayos ka lang?

Ramona Magdalena normally had the patience for Tesco. She wasn’t sure what it was, but everything had her seething with no apparent reason. She tried to figure out what went wrong. 

It was only 3 p.m., for goodness sake! 

Her third year at the university was supposed to make things easier, but the way she clenched at the handle of her shopping cart as she sped through the aisles of Tesco showed nothing of the sort. 

She was so tense, her jaw clenching as she asked herself repeatedly if there was an actual reason for her getting worked up over something. 

Her mother, Alma, was being herself; she was merely calling to see how the university was for Magda. Alma only told Magda about her cousins in the Philippines and how they were looking forward to getting the “balikbayan” box in August, only for the younger woman to respond grumpily. Alma was a dear— so clearly Magda’s grumpiness had nothing to do with her mother’s daily check-in. 

She appreciated her mother’s efforts to keep up with Magda’s well-being; after all, Alma did everything she could as a single parent who immigrated to the UK long before she took Magda. 

So no. She loved her mother so much that she wouldn’t get unreasonably cranky towards her. Not easily, at least. 

But her questions withered away when her speed walking was interrupted by her shopping cart crashing into a figure. Her eyes widened, and she shook herself out of her thoughts. 

“Mierda!” Shit! An accent escaped out of the man’s mouth. 

Now, Magda had been a citizen of the UK for a while now— she knew when to speak English and how to utilize her vocabulary in a reasonable manner. But everything seemed to be in panic mode as she exclaimed, “Shit! Ayos ka lang?” Are you okay?

The man was still groaning, bent over as he clutched to his stomach. He glared at her for a moment as he asked, “¿Por qué no observas a dónde vas?” Why can’t you watch where you are going?

“Hah?” She cocked her head slightly. She only picked up on the first two words. Por qué? Why? 

He’s Spanish, Magda deduced. She stepped away from the cart and walked towards him, “I’m so, so, so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going—“

“Obviously—“ he muttered hastily, still touching his aching side. 

“I’m also in a rush, and I’m so frustrated and tired. Three years into adulthood and I can’t make shit right,” Magda hadn’t even realized that she was ranting to a stranger as she rambled, “GCSE clearly didn’t do shit to me because I’m still here bitching about what to cook— punyeta naman kasi, ‘di ba.” What the fuck, am I right?

He stared at her for a moment, not even interrupting her as she spoke. But the silence made Magda pause as her face flushed red, earning a soft smirk from the man. “Mama said I have a problem with speaking too much without thinking.” 

He chuckled at her rambling before sticking his hand out, “We can call it… truce— I think is the word?” 

“Yeah, okay, truce,” she reached out and introduced herself while shaking his hand, “I’m Magdalena.” 

“I’m Carlos.” 

“So, like… you’re Spanish, right? Or do you just speak Español? I’ve only picked up on some words because they’re quite similar— or I suppose I learned it through some song from years ago.” 

“I am actually Spanish; good guess. And you said puñeta— I can assume you also speak Español?” 

“Oh, hah, about that— no. That’s not spoken in Spanish. That’s— yeah, that’s something.” 

ii. 2017 — irog means love

“Ate Magda! Totoo ba?” Is it true?

“Jowa mo galing Spain?” Your boyfriend is from Spain? 

Magda almost died laughing as she FaceTimed her cousins, who were certainly supposed to be asleep at this time. The Philippines was seven hours ahead, and with her cousins being awake at two in the morning, she could assume that they had a holiday. Everybody always sleeps in if it’s a long weekend or a national holiday. 

But she hadn’t expected their night to be spent gossiping about Magdalena’s boyfriend, Carlos. 

“Niño, bakit ‘di mo gamitin yang utak mo sa school kaysa sa jowa ko?” Why don’t you use your brain for school instead of my boyfriend? Magda huffed out her laugh, making her other cousin Paloma laugh next to Niño. Paloma’s laughter caught Magda off guard as she called out, “Oi, Lomi, don’t be laughing— ikaw ang nagpasimuno nito. Akala mo ‘di ko alam?” You started this. You think I didn’t know?

“Papa brought it up,” Paloma defended herself with a cry, “he kept calling you a national hero, and I had to ask why.” 

“Ano ba naman ‘yan,” what the hell. Magdalena cried out as her head slumped against the couch, raising it to look at her cousins on the screen, “Tell your papa to keep his mouth shut. I love Tito Gerry— I do, but he needs to stop making jokes about that.” 

“—About what?” Magda seemed to be more drawn towards her uncle’s joke that she hadn’t heard her boyfriend enter her flat with a curious look. He had just arrived from Milton Keynes, and this was a surprise as he normally arrived later than this. 

Carlos had taken off his shoes and placed his bag down, walking around the couch to sit next to Magda as he pecked her lips. “Hello, cariño. How was your day?” 

“Hm, good! I’ve finished my paper,” Magda grinned. 

They were so caught up with each other that the only thing they heard was gagging from the phone that the Filipino woman held. Magda and Carlos peered down on the screen as they watched the two teens exaggerate at the sight of the couple being too sweet for each other. 

“Reparations,” Paloma gagged jokingly, “but at what cost?” 

“Matulog na nga kayo!” Go to sleep! Magda exclaimed.

“Okay po, master,” Niño rolled his eyes before waving at the camera, “nice meeting you, Carlitos!” 

"You're Niño, right?" Carlos grinned as he kept his face in front of the camera before waving, "Nice meeting you too!"

“Yeah! Buenas noches, Don Carlos!” Good night, sir Carlos! Paloma giggled, the other side of the call abruptly ending before Magda could berate the pair even further.

She sighed heavily and tossed her phone aside, giving her boyfriend a look of despair as he giggled at her. 

“What did they mean by reparations?” He asked her, genuinely curious at what they were joking about. 

How was she going to explain it to him? Did they even teach at Spanish schools about their country’s history of colonialism? Magda didn’t have an answer to that. 

“Oh, just you know…” She mumbled, “Filipinos were originally Spanish people living in the Philippines. Apparently, dating you made us a deadly combination. Enemies to lovers, or whatever trope that is.”

“Reparations? Oh… OH!” Carlos exclaimed in realization, earning a nod from his girlfriend as he murmured, “Okay.” 

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, I understand now, mi corazon.” 

“Irog,” Carlos said aloud, making Magda hum in a questioning tone. “Irog, bébé.”

“What’s that, bé?” Magda asked mindlessly as she stared at the screen of her computer. 

Carlos turned his head in her direction as he said, “I don’t know. You’re the one who speaks the language.” 

She paused from doing her work, looking up at him before she pondered the first word he brought up. Then she let out an ‘ah’ before nodding. 

“So…? What does that mean?” Carlos asked. One year of relationship and his thirst for knowledge was an obvious factor that came with it.

“It means mahal,” Magda answered, remembering the word. She continued to read Filipino literature as she grew, not wanting to stay away from it regardless of the fact that she spent her last school years in a British school. She asked her mother questions whenever she didn’t have a single clue what a word meant, so this was a helpful thing to do, especially now that Carlos continued to ask her to teach him how to speak her language. 

“Mahal, like expensive?” Carlos asked for clarification. 

Magda shook her head, “No, not that mahal. Like mahal— you, mahal.” 

“Oh,” Carlos let out before he reiterated what she said, “mahal, like love?” 

“Yes, mahal,” she snickered quietly, calling him by the term of endearment. “Like love.” 

“So irog means love?” 

“Yes, bébé. Irog means love.”

iii. 2018 — patata, patatas. what’s the difference? 

“Oh! Hey, Mr. Alonso, you’re here just in time,” Magdalena grinned. The older man, who just arrived, shot her a confused look as she stood there with her lips spread out to a grin.

“Magda, hija, call me Fernando. It’s also nine in the morning,” Fernando Alonso sighed quietly, his hand running through his face as he looked back at the girl in the white McLaren shirt. “I think it’s too early for your optimism.” 

“You’re right,” Magda’s shoulders slumped, and her smile fell, her face showing nothing but defeat as she walked towards the Spaniard, “but don’t let my sadness get in the way of your duties today. My supervisor said that you have to do your filming for the next two videos of the channel— and you cannot, I mean CANNOT, back out this time.” 

“I can’t,” Fernando smirked playfully, “or can I?” 

“Mr. Alonso, with all due respect,” Magda sighed heavily, “I started this year. And if you continue to ditch your duties because I cannot convince you enough then I’m going to have to leave not of my own will. I did not last four years at the university just so I can have a manchild act so sassily at the person who’s merely trying her best, so please—“

“Calmaté, Magdalena. Are you okay?” Calm down. Fernando asked, reiterating his question and emphasizing the word you. 

Magda had anything but an answer; her lips pursed as she shook her head. “Can I… shit. Sorry, can I be excused for a moment? It's been a morning for me.” 

“Take all the time you need, querida,” Fernando told her with a smile, patting her on the shoulder as she gave him a grateful look before she walked out of the McLaren garage with a heave of sigh. 

Fernando Alonso pursed his lips as he caught sight of the young British reserved driver, calling him with a whistle as Lando Norris looked in his direction with a questioning expression.

“Norris, you know Carlos Sainz, yes?” Fernando asked.

“Uh, yeah,” Lando replied with a nod. “He’s a friend of mine.”

“Do me a favour, if you don’t mind,” Fernando requested, “will you please tell him Magdalena’s on break?” 

“Yeah, of course,” Lando obliged before his curiosity got the best of him as he asked, “Is she alright?” 

“I think McLaren broke her.”

“Leche,” she swore quietly as she stood behind the McLaren motorhome. Thankfully, nobody else was there to witness her on the verge of breaking down. Otherwise, that would have been embarrassing. 

She had a bad habit of pleasing people. Living in the Philippines, with her mother working overseas and her biological father being a dickhead fuck knew where Magdalena grew up wanting to appease her friends and family. Her immediate family cared very little about the achievements she reached — they were proud, sure, but how she got there was beyond what they wanted for her.

Some kids who grew up in a Filipino household aimed to please, and Magda wasn’t an exception to that. She, however, did more than what she should have been doing. All thanks to the father she had never interacted with before or ever.

Much like now. She aimed to please. Maybe that was why she got to this predicament now; crouching with her head down as she tried to keep her composure. 

She knew that everyone would kill to be in her place— working for a racing team. But for some reason, her urge to please was replaced by her fear of discomfort and disappointment. Being in a relationship with a Formula One driver taught her a lot about the sport, and she landed herself a job in a team based in England.

Being able to travel with him was a plus, but she felt that she had disappointed him. She didn’t feel as good as he told her she would when she first announced McLaren’s offer to hire her for the season. 

Was this what most Formula One wives and partners felt? Or have they embraced that lifestyle long before the drivers became so popular? She wouldn’t make a good girlfriend for everyone should they find out that she had nothing but anxiety in her system as she graced the grid with her presence. 

She was a disappointment of a Carlos Sainz fan.

His cologne lingered in the air as she witnessed him crouch down in her level, his fingers pulling her hair tie off her head, letting her long dark brown hair fall as she smiled grimly. 

He was in his Renault fireproof, his race suit hanging off his waist. He made things more angelic than normal, and she loved him so much for it. His lips pursed as his fingers continued to massage her scalp. 

“Few more months, mi vida,” Carlos murmured, his soothing voice making her feel at home. “You’re doing so good for them. Don’t let them say otherwise.” 

Sure, she could be at the hotel with Ben&Ben blasting on her phone and her figure crying in the bathtub. She could be falling into the deepest depth of her sadness, but with Carlos ditching his team before the free practice — she would rather be here than be in their shared hotel room. 

“Now c’mon, mi corazon,” he pulled her up, “I’ve managed to get my manager to come drop off some pancit to the motorhome from the hospitality.”

“Pancit?” 

“Malabon,” Carlos beamed at her, pressing his lips to her forehead. “One of the caterers gladly took my request to have some pancit malabon at the menu. It took them a couple of weeks until they finally got tired of my constant asking.”

“Hm, you’re the best, my love,” Magda told him lovingly. “Though, I prefer palabok, remember?” 

“Eh,” Carlos paused, “patata, patatas. What’s the difference? Pancit is pancit, mi amor.”

iv. 2019 — magda, maldita 

“Carlos, bebe, mahal kita. Mahal kita sobra.” I love you. I love you so much. Magda sighed as she glanced over the notepad that her fiancé left on the end table of the side of her bed— their brainstorming notepad. “But do you really want to get married in a church? In the Philippines while you’re at it?” 

“It’s an idea, mi amor,” Carlos said while he continued to do whatever he was doing in the bathroom, making her listen from the bed as he spoke, “Just how bad is it?” 

“It’s nothing bad,” Magda said quietly, “it’s just something that I wouldn’t personally do. There is a lot of paperwork to do when getting married in a church. Did you know that? Not only that, but we’d have to attend seminars about family planning— which is not right up my alley, seeing as my mother is an unmarried single mother.” 

“Paperwork is what you are worried about?” 

“Why can’t we just elope instead? My Lola grandmother and Lolo grandfather did that, and look— they have my mom, my tito uncle and tita aunt,” she suggested out of the blue. 

“And risk getting killed by either of our mothers?” Carlos scoffed, “I think we should stick to the church idea, yes, mi amor?” 

“Did you not hear the story of my grandparents, love?” Magda asked him, thankful that he couldn’t see the baffled look on her face. 

“More than I can count, mi corazon,” Carlos answered, “they ran away from home, didn’t they? Got married and had your Tia Maria, then your Mama after? They eloped because they weren’t close with their families— but we’re both very close to ours. We can’t do what your grandparents did.” 

She sighed. He wasn’t even wrong. 

The Spaniard walked out of the bathroom, his face now clean-shaven as he sat next to his fiancée. “Look, we don’t have to do the church thing. It was just an idea, hm? I know you don’t want to get married in the Philippines either, so that’s alright. We’ll just send your cousins, your aunt and uncle to wherever we’re going, then we’ll get married. Don’t worry too much.” 

“‘M sorry,” Magda murmured, her fingers fidgeting with the gold engagement ring as she continued, “I’m a killjoy.” 

“No, you’re not,” Carlos huffed out and clasped his hand with her left hand, “you’re the bride. The bride is more than permitted to weigh out the options. If you don’t want the Philippines, that’s okay.

“Truthfully, I just want to marry you,” Carlos murmured as he pulled her closer, “if we didn’t have such scary mothers, I would’ve already married you. You and your YouTube channel.” 

Magda’s chuckle vibrated in his chest as she perched on his lap, “I don’t even know if that will even work out.” 

“I am sure the wedding plans will. If it doesn’t, our marriage certainly will work out for you and your channel.”

“You are a dickhead, mahal.” “I can’t speak the truth now?” 

“There was no need to bring up the channel, dumbass.”

“Mabuti nalang may passport yung mga pinsan mo,” It’s a good thing that your cousins have passports. Alma San Pedro, Magdalena’s mother, brought up as she sat across the aforementioned woman.

Magda skimmed through the spreadsheet laid out on her laptop’s screen, keeping her eyes on the things Carlos typed out on the guest list as he actively listed who’s responsible for the catering.

Alma continued to speak, “Why didn’t you want to get married in the Philippines? You’ve always wanted to get married in the Tayabas basilica— I could have had your Tita Marie look into it.”

“That was mainly because I thought you got married there,” Magda glanced at her mother before leaving a comment on the name that Carlos had just typed down on the guest list sheet.

“Lando Norris” — Magda San Pedro (monamagsp) commented: “He finally RSVP’d?”

Carlos Sainz (carlossz) replied: “Yes. He said he forgot to do it, but I managed to get him to fill it.”

He was still at Monaco for the race, but between the busy days of partying and racing he decided to abandon his friends and stayed at the hotel to plan his wedding with Magda instead. “Besides, Ma, the wedding’s in two months. Travelling is also time-consuming for most of us.”

“You’re so picky, anak,” child. Alma replied with a playful scoff.

“And you’re not married, Mama,” Magda shot back with the same amount of humour in her tone. “People complain about both, but we can’t find ourselves to care, hm?”

“Hay nako, Ramona Magdalena,” Alma rolled her eyes and sighed exasperatedly. A rhetorical question escaped her mouth, “Bakit ka kaya maldita?” Why are you so cheeky/sassy? 

Mona shrugged, “Tita Maria didn’t take any shit from my private school teachers, Ma. She’s the one who took care of me while you worked here, remember? Go figures.”

“I can’t believe you’ve invited me to the wedding,” Lando’s eyes glimmered under the warm light of the ballroom hall as he excitedly spoke to Magda. “I know we didn’t speak as much last year, but the fact that you allowed Carlos to invite me? I’m so grateful, mate.”

Magdalena San Pedro— or wait, Magdalena Sainz stood across from the British man with a grin as she tucked her hands into her pockets (she had pockets on her wedding dress that she began to think that God was treating her right today).

The San Pedro-Sainz wedding ceremony took place in the Westin Palace of Madrid. With the hopes of celebrating the love that they shared for years, Carlos and Magdalena managed to get through the hour-long ceremony without a fuss. The romantic venue created an environment full of celebration while keeping it as intimate and private as it could be for their guests and themselves.

Carlos had already made his name known to the Formula One world, his talent being recognized by every fan as the season went on. But nobody knew who Magdalena was to him, and he intended to keep it that way — thus prompting him to keep his marriage a piece of confidential information. Everyone behind the scenes knew he was in a relationship, and with the hopes that he’d get even more popular, PR relationships were introduced and tossed in his way. 

None of the women he was put in the spotlight with ever lasted, and he was slowly earning the title of a Casanova. He didn’t care; he was just doing his duty and driving his car around the tracks while he worried about his partner, who now worked for a designing company based in London— where they both lived. Nobody else in the grid nor anyone in the motorsport community knew who he was romantically involved with. 

Magdalena was another story. She only began to record some videos about her lifestyle as she continued to work for some local designing firm, telling whoever was watching her videos about what she knew about this field of work or what kind of food she’d eat on certain occasions.

She wasn’t as popular as him, but she continued to keep his identity a secret. She lived an average life and she was quite content with it. She’d rather post a video of herself fucking around, but they’ve made a choice to stay private for as long as they could. 

Now Lando Norris was known to be a blabbermouth, but Magdalena had grown quite fond of him when he was still a reserved driver for McLaren as she worked as a PR coordinator for the team. They rarely spoke, sure, but she was certain that she could trust him with anything and he wouldn’t blab about it. Carlos was also friends with Lando, and they continued to be close friends, so Magda never protested against Carlos’ idea of inviting the younger man to the wedding. 

Lando then said, “I find it quite enjoyable— your wedding, I mean. It’s clearly not as big as I would have expected because well… Carlos told me that Filipino weddings are often big, but I love it! I’ve learned more about your wedding traditions than I have in sixth form about geography.”

“Gah, don’t even say that,” Magda rolled her eyes, earning a giggle from Lando as the woman continued, “It’s barely there, I think. We tried not to pour our hearts out into what they would normally practice in the Philippines or here in Spain. Some Filipino things are here — the food, my dress and my family — but it’s just something superficial, you know?” 

“It’s not even just the wedding that taught me a lot!” Lando exclaimed as he laughed, “Your cousins, Lomi, Niño and Lucia? Yeah, I sat with them during the whole ceremony so they kept telling me about wedding traditions and some superstitions: like how you shouldn’t have any relative marry at the same time as you because it’s cursed.” 

“Really? I’m surprised they haven’t said anything mundane,” Magda saw Lando nod at her statement.

“They also started to say that you took one for the team—“ Lando’s forehead creased as he said, “I asked them what they meant by that, then they only said you’re heroic.” 

“Diyos ko.” My god. Magda scoffed. Her cousins spelled nothing but trouble and god did she despise them at times. 

“What? What did that mean, Mags?” Lando asked.

Magda sighed exasperatedly, and with a defeated tone, she answered, “Making up for the challenge we’ve lost, apparently.” 

“Huh?” 

“It’s— just ask Carlitos,” Magda waved off, “I’ve had to explain the concept of colonialism to too many people before. I think it’s time Carlos did it for me.”

v. 2024 — paninindigan kita (stand by you)

Mamahalin kita buong-buo. I will love you completely.

“So, tell us about yourself.”

“I’m Carlos Sainz— or wait, do you want me to speak Tagalog?” The Ferrari driver asked as he stood in front of the camera, his linen shirt in the view of the lens as he waited to be instructed.

“Directing this music video is the dumbest idea I could’ve ever made,” Magda deadpanned from behind the camera as the videography crew laughed alongside the band members, her voice being picked up by the microphone easily.

Their Philippines trip, which they should’ve made a while ago, was something of an experience for the couple.

It was the first time they’d been seen in public— with everyone finding out about their marriage after Carlos’ Instagram story slip-up when he accidentally posted a photo of Magdalena’s selfie that she sent when she travelled to the country long before this. 

It really was an accident if you were to ask him. But it was something inevitable, and all Magda could do was laugh and make her presence known not only to her fans but to those who were more than interested to know about her. His fans. 

Now, they were in an Airbnb somewhere in the Quezon Province as they filmed some form of documentary. It was meant to be a storytelling music video about their relationship and the romance that came with it, but after seeing Carlos’ script reading at the Shell commercial, Magda practically banned him from acting.

She was a popular content creator in the Philippines regardless of her living situation; she lived in Madrid with her husband for almost five years. And with her popularity in the Philippines came acquaintances who were more than willing to collaborate with her. The folk-pop band called Ben&Ben asked if she was more than willing to shoot a music video with them. Direct it, even. 

The song they released practically spoke about her life with Carlos. At first, she didn’t think too much of the lyrics and just enjoyed the rhythm of the song, then she realized how similar it was to their relationship, from the courtship (and her outward refusal to continue this romance with him at the very beginning) to their vows to love each other as they grow old, and decided that perhaps it was time to show to the world how they truly love each other. 

Carlos agreed, knowing that outside of his life as a Ferrari driver and a Formula One figure, he had nothing else in life but her and her alone. He knew that she was the one thing that he kept from everyone to provide security for his wife. He waited patiently for her — and it was now paying off. Now, he was standing in front of a camera, waiting to be filmed for his interview. 

It was better than the countless documentaries and the Netflix series that he had to do interviews and filming duties for. Because this time, he got to discuss his wife, Magdalena Sainz, instead of his car. 

“Can I speak Tagalog?” Carlos repeated, his typical confused expression being displayed before the others.

Magda shook her head, “You’ll butcher it, Carlitos.”

“Excuse me, Ramona,” Carlos gasped in mock offence. “I can speak it!” 

“Clearly not good enough,” Magda shot back, making the others laugh at the banter between the pair. 

“Your Español isn’t any better then, mi vida,” Carlos scoffed, placing his hand on his chest. 

Magda said, “There’s a reason why I only listen to you and your family when you speak, honey.” 

“This is what I have to deal with every day, by the way,” Carlos pointed out to their audience, making the others burst out laughing as he offered his wife a playful glare. 

One of the videographers spoke before Magda could make a comeback, “Wait, the camera’s still on.”

“Oh shit,” Carlos and Magda both swore before they both laughed. Their banter was caught on camera and they were laughing about it.

It took them good ten seconds to return to their composure as the camera stopped recording. 

Magda cleared her throat, clapping her hands as the camera began recording, and she instructed her husband, “Carlos, we can both speak English— it’s fine. Just speak in English, alright?” 

“Okay, fine,” Carlos rolled his eyes and muttered, “mi esposa. Muy quisquilloso.” My wife. So picky. The microphone attached to his shirt picked up on his comment.

“This is so going to the music video,” one of the band members giggled. 

Magda then continued with the recording segment as she spoke to her husband while she stood behind the camera, “Alright, please state your name and how long you have been with your partner?” 

Carlos nodded and beamed slightly as he stared back at Magda, who was smiling as she expected his answer. With a cheerful tone, he said, “My name is Carlos Sainz. I have been with my wife, Magdalena San Pedro Sainz, for seven years and three months and have been married to her for four years and six months.” 

“What prompted you to stand by her?” Magda asked as she continued to beam at him, not even noticing the heart eyes of the other people in the room. 

Eight years and still extremely in love. 

He answered, “Her determination, wits and her ability to stand by me no matter what kind of disaster came and went made me realize that falling in love with her was worth the effort to make.”

It was no wonder people thought their relationship had nothing to do with two worlds colliding.

Even with their constant light bickering, Magdalena and Carlos Sainz learned how to love each other through words — whether it was their native languages or their secondary ones. What mattered was that they understood the meaning of their love, regardless of what kind of language they had to translate it to.

fin.

[fangirlanxiety74]

ihnmaims video game scares me and the only thing that is epic and cool about it is that we get to hear AM more i think

I have so much beef with the game, you don't even know. And it sucks because- Okay like you said, we got to hear AM and see more into his personality and how he works. We got to look into their backstories (sort of). Like, there was concepts there!! There was potential!!

BUT GOD DAMMIT IF IT WAS JUST EXECUTED WELL

Because Ted being a conman with siblings he abandoned for the cushy lifestyle? Incredible!! Amazing!! Wild!! BUT WHY DOES TED NOT ACT LIKE HE'S SUPPOSED TO IN THE CANONICAL BOOK. Why are BENNY AND NIMDOK COMPLETELY DERAILED FROM THEIR ORIGINAL BACKSTORIES. What the FUCK was Ellen's psychodrama!!!!

AND BACK TO NIMDOK WHAT DID THEY DO TO HIM. THEY MASSACRED MY GRANDPA DUDE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN HE'S A- FDNVJDS RAAAAH

I like what they did to Gorrister though, I think it adds more depth to his character rather than take away from and contradict it. I just WISH that it was like that for ALL the characters. I don't know what was up with RAM or CAM either, and I personally just pretend they don't exist. Same with the lunar colony sometimes; I just completely forgot it was a thing. It could've been executed better, too!!!

I borrow a lot of ideas when I write for the characters. But like. In general, I pretend it's not real for sanity sake. If I write them, I am not writing them based off the games.

Breaks my heart man </3

[cammiko-arts]

Well that's it I wanted to know what you think of the Lion King 3 (or 1/2)

Hooooooo boy, my feelings towards Lion King 1 1/2 are… complicated.

On the one hand? A movie, starring my boys Timon and Pumbaa?? HELL YES!! On the other hand, knowing what we COULD have gotten?? I feel robbed. 🫥

TLK 1.5 came out when I was a little girl. I had received a copy of The Lion King special edition on DVD for my birthday the year before, which kicked off my all-consuming special interest in TLK, but specifically in Timon. I was already doodling the little fella in my sketchbook before I realized TLK 1.5 was coming out. So naturally, when I found out, I was beside myself and almost threw up from excitement at school on the day it was released. 🥴🤪

And of course, I loved it as a kid. It was probably my most watched DVD. But even back then, after watching some of the deleted scenes, I remember wishing that the movie had gone in a more serious direction.

And of course, now, as an adult, I can appreciate the parody aspect of it. It’s funny, sure. Hilarious even. But I also find myself feeling a bit melancholy about the fact that the parody-feel of it was off-putting towards other fans, and made some of the visceral hatred towards T&P rear its head. (Which is something I am very sensitive about, but that’s neither here nor there—that’s a “me” problem, plain and simple.)

Anyways. I wish they had gone more in depth with Timon’s backstory, starting him out as a child like they had originally intended to do. I get WHY they decided not to do that—they probably didn’t want to keep him from meeting Pumbaa for too long. But, as a lifelong fan, that’s something I would have LIKED to see.

I also wish they hadn’t gone totally ham on parodying the original Lion King. My neurospicy brain struggles with parts of TLK 1.5 because of it. 😮‍💨

But yeah—love the new characters, love the bits in the jungle with Simba, and love the parts with Timon’s colony. Fun stuff.

Oh OH OH OH. I forgot to mention. I actually kind of… dislike how Timon was drawn in TLK 1.5. *hides*

Don’t hurt me, please. 🥴 I just… I don’t like how overly cutesy, wide-eyed, and weirdly chubby they made him look?? And his teeth bother me too. 😂 The man is supposed to be sly and slinky looking!!! 👀👀👀

ANYWAYS.

Bottom line—it’s fine. I still watch it regularly. Are there things I would have done differently? Abso-fucking-lutely.