#admin is slightly bored...

[kraniumet]

sorry but this is so incorrect. picard is 100% a horse girl. kirk is like. a girl who is obsessed with anne of the green gables and who plays an instrument badly.

[jflemings]

— visiting hours

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: five times you got a visit at work and the one time you returned the favour

warning: minimal allusions to sex

୧ ‧₊˚ 🧸 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

you and jessie had been seeing eachother for a while now, having met one hectic morning at a coffee shop during her first few weeks in portland. you had spilled your drink all over her training kit and stammered your way through an apology whilst attempting to dry off her shirt with some near by napkins. in your frantic effort to clean her up she had placed a hand over yours and shyly told you that you could make it up to her by letting her take you out.

you agreed with a shy smile and nod before realising the time and hurrying to your car so that you wouldn’t be more late than you already were, choosing to write your name and number on her own cup and practically flying out the door.

it all snowballed after that first date, the two of you quickly realising how much you enjoyed eachother’s company leading you to spend whatever time you could spare together.

1. FORGOTTEN LUNCH

jessie navigates her way through the school halls quietly as she tries to find your classroom. the brown paper bag in her hands crinkles slightly as she readjusts her grip, hoping that you were where the lady in the admin office said you would be.

she nervously bites the inside of her cheek as she approaches your open classroom door, peaking her head inside and rapping her knuckles against the wood three times to get your attention.

you look up from what you’re doing with a smile before a slightly shocked expression takes over your features “jess?”

jessie steps inside nervously “hey” she greets quietly “you left your lunch this morning”

your face drops in relief, your hand immediately falling to your stomach “you didn’t have to drop it off, i was just going to buy lunch”

the canadian shrugs as she walks to your desk and puts the bag down in front of you, her palm flattening on the wooden surface “it was my fault you were late” she mumbles looking down, a slight blush creeping up her cheeks “it was the least i could do.”

you smile up at her, crossing your arms and leaning them on your desk. the memory of this morning’s activities flashes in your mind and you smirk, jessie’s sudden embarrassment being a stark difference to her needy, cocky exterior from a few hours ago.

“i don’t recall me complaining” you tease as you tilt your head and look over your girlfriend’s shy form. she’s dressed in her training gear, the white shirt accentuating her broad shoulders in a way that has you reeling.

she cracks her knuckles against your desk and rolls her eyes playfully as she watches you check her out shamelessly. folding her arms, she turns and sits herself on the edge of your furniture, her posture going lax as she crosses her ankles and tucks her head into her shoulder slightly.

“stop staring” she mumbles quietly into her shoulder

you can’t help but smile slightly before you prop your chin up on the palm of your hand “am i making you nervous, fleming?”

jessie squints at you slightly, unfolding her arms and leaning back on her hands “i didn’t say that”

“you didn’t have too” you smirk before standing and leaning over to kiss her cheek “thank you though, saved me both time and money”

the canadian smiles “anytime”

2. DROPPING IN

it’s during your free period when jessie drops by unexpectedly. she stands in your doorway aimlessly before knocking, making you look up from your laptop.

you smile “what are you doing here?”

“got bored at home” she says as she walks in “thought i’d come see you for a little bit”

you push out the chair that’s next to your desk with your foot, signalling her to sit down. she does so and tucks her hands into her pockets before kicking out her legs and crossing her ankles “finished your book, then?”

she nods “this morning. then i put on some laundry and sorted dinner out but i quickly ran out of things to do” she picks at the hem of her shorts “what are you up to? i’m not interrupting am i?”

“no, i just finished up a couple emails and was hoping to put a dent in this stack of assignments i’ve got to mark but i can’t focus” you assure her whilst pushing your laptop away “you’ve given me a reason to have a bit of a break”

jessie hums “the ones you were marking last night?”

“yeah. i only got through about three before i fell asleep”

“you were up until midnight doing them” jessie points out with a cock of her head, now only noticing the bags under your eyes. she tuts “you’ve gotta stop stressing yourself out”

“i could say the same to you” you rebuttal, referring to the numerous times jessie’s stayed after training to do some practice by herself. you cock an eyebrow “you overwork yourself”

“so do you”

“but i’m not an athlete” you point at her as you prop your legs up on her own “if you don’t rest your body you’re going to do yourself more harm then good, jess. you don’t need me to tell you that”

the canadian shifts in her seat and rests her hands on your legs, running them up and down your shins over your jeans. she leans her head back and rolls it on her neck, coming to look at you half over her shoulder. she raises her eyebrows before huffing “fine” she says “dinner tonight then? sounds like we could both use a bit of down time”

“you said that you already had dinner sorted” you point out.

“i do” she nods her head “i actually came to ask if you wanted to come over for dinner, i’ll cook and you can just sit and look pretty”

you can’t help but smile at jessie “i would love to”

3. EXAM SEASON

you were freaking out. an absolute a wreck as you go through your bag, folder and every drawer in your classroom.

exam season hit you hard and fast. you had been barley sleeping so that you could finish grading your sophomore’s and junior’s midterm english exams, determined to not make them wait for their grades longer than they had to. you had finished them last night and now you had lost them.

checking your watch, your eyes go wide at the time. only ten minutes before you had your sophomores for first period. ten minutes before you had a bunch of tired highschool students in your classroom awaiting their grades, and you’d have to tell them that you didn’t have them.

it wouldn’t be that big of a deal if they hadn’t complained to you earlier in the week that most of their teachers had yet to give them their other exams and assignments back. you had of course tried to explain to them that grading exams wasn’t as quick as taking them, especially since most of the staff had more than one class, but you still promised to have them marked and ready by the end of the week.

only, you didn’t have them.

they weren’t in your backpack, your laptop bag, tucked away in your desk or misplaced in another drawer. they just weren’t here.

you hang your head and screw your eyes shut, cursing at yourself for being so stupid and misplacing them when your classroom door opens, interrupting your train of thought. you turn around to greet whoever it is with the best smile you can muster, only to be met with jessie dressed in her training gear and holding a stack of papers.

“you left these on the kitchen bench this morning” she holds them up and waves them “i tried to call you but you didn’t pick up so i thought i’d just come drop them to you personally”

you drop your jaw “jessie you are a lifesaver, oh my god” you laugh in relief, crossing the length of your classroom to meet her at the door. you take the papers off her and kiss her hard, her hand finding your hip easily “you have no fucking idea how stressed i’ve been trying to find them”

jessie smiles and squeezes your hip “babe, you have got to stop putting so much pressure on yourself” she says lowly “and you need more sleep”

you roll your eyes playfully and tap the thorns crest on her training shirt “yeah, well, i’ll be sleeping a lot better now that exams are done with” you say lightheartedly before realising what jessie’s dressed in. your eyebrows shoot up as you look at your watch “and you need to go, jess, you’re going to be late!”

she puts her hands up as you push her into the hallway protesting “i’m not going to be late—”

“jessie go!”

the canadian pecks your lips “i’ll see you later” she says as she begins to walk down the hall. “don’t stress!” she yells with a smile as she rounds the corner, winking at you before dashing off.

4. FOUND OUT

jessie’s once again sat on the chair next to your desk when a student comes looking for you. she loudly walks into your class before seeing the canadian, immediately going quiet and pausing when she realises you aren’t in the room.

the two of them stare at eachother for a moment before the teenager speaks “i’m looking for miss l/n…” she trails off.

“she just went to the bathroom, she’ll be back a minute” jessie answers, sending her an awkward smile as your student nods. the canadian was sure that all the kids had left and she doesn’t know what she’ll say if the one in front of her recognises her or asks what she’s doing in your classroom.

you approach your door from the hallway, catching your student and jessie in what looks to be a staring contest. a wave of relief washes across jessie’s face as she spots you.

“olivia, what do you need?”

olivia turns suddenly, a book in her hands “i’m not coming to school on monday so i thought i’d give you this back so i don’t forget” she explains quietly.

the rattling of a keychain gets jessie’s attention. she squints and sees it’s a little chelsea jersey with FLEMING 17 printed on it. jessie smiles but diverts her eyes back to her phone, not wanting to get caught staring.

you smile “thanks, liv” you say as she nods at you “have a good weekend!” you tell her.

the teenager smiles and nods again, sneaking a glance at jessie before she rushes off down the hall. you tilt your head as you watch her leave before turning back to your girlfriend.

“did she talk to you?” you ask as you approach your desk.

jessie shakes her head “we kind of just… stared at eachother. i didn’t know what to say”

you huff a laugh as you tuck the book away into your desk “she’s a fan” you say “she’s a chelsea supporter and was really excited when you signed with portland. she talked my ear off about it after she went to watch the first match”

“i saw the keychain on her bag” the canadian says quietly.

“she’s told me you’re the reason she plays soccer” you admit whilst putting your laptop in it’s bag “i’m not surprised she didn’t tell you though. she’s pretty shy”

all jessie can do is nod in thought. it was nice to be the reason someone fell in love with the sport she so passionately played, even more so that it was a teenage girl.

you clap your hands once as you hike your backpack onto your shoulder “right. i think we should make pizzas and watch that movie we saw on hulu last night, what do you say?”

jessie’s attention is now completely on you “pizzas from scratch or pizzas with store bought bases?”

“who do you think i am, fleming. store bought bases, obviously, i can’t be bothered making the dough”

when olivia returns to school on tuesday you have a signed portland thorns fleming jersey waiting for her. the look of gratitude on her face when you give it to her is priceless.

5. SOFT SPOKEN

“it was a hard exam” you say softly to olivia who stands in front of you. she’s gripping her paper tight and looking down on it like she wants to make it disappear “but you can get your grade back up to an A by the end of the semester if you do extra credit. i promise it’s not the end of the world”

“my parents are going to be so mad at me” she whispers “i studied so hard”

“exactly. you studied hard and you did your best, that’s all you can do”

olivia nods weakly, the paper crinkling in her grip as she looks at you “i just really wanted to keep up my grades this semester, especially after last semester” she admits to you, her voice quiet “i thought i did so well on this”

“you aren’t the only kid who got a bad grade, liv” you attempt to assure her but frown when you realise you might not be getting anywhere. you found your desk and open your top drawer, pulling out a packet “here’s a little bit of extra credit to start you off. get it back to me by monday, okay?” you hand it to her and tilt your head “we’ll fix your grade, i promise”

olivia takes the packet from you and nods before putting it, along with her graded test, in her backpack. just as you open your mouth to speak again you get a knock at your door.

you expect it to be another staff member, or maybe even jessie seeing as though she would’ve finished training by now. instead you lock eyes with an awkward looking christine sinclair. her eyes shift between you and olivia as she smiles sheepishly “sorry, i was just looking for y/n l/n?”

“that’s me!” you exclaim before turning back to your student “come see me on monday, okay?”

“how many soccer players do you know” olivia whispers to you, completely ignoring your request. you smile as her and jerk your head in the direction of the door.

she walks out, giving christine a smile and nod as she passes, before you turn to the former canadian international “what can i do for you?”

your sudden perk up makes her eyes brows raise “jessie gave me her house keys to drop to you. she’s in with the physio and didn’t want you getting locked out of her place”

you smile gratefully and beckon her in with a wave of your hand, taking the keys from her as you stick your free hand out for her to shake “i know you know, but i’m y/n”

“christine” she says smiling “jessie’s mentioned you before but i didn’t realise you, uh, were seeing eachother”

you feel heat begin to creep up your neck “yeah, a few months now”

the footballer nods “it’s good to meet you” she says, putting both hands behind her back.

you smile “it’s good to meet you too” you echo before clipping the keys onto your key ring “is jess okay?”

“she’s all good, it’s just a tweak in her calf. it was bothering her during training so she got it checked”

you nod along “alright”.

the canadian jerks her thumb in the direction of the door “you’re good with her” she says “your student, i mean”

“yeah, they’re great kids” you can’t help but smile “most of the time, anyway. they have their moments”

“don’t we all” christine jokes before checking her watch “well i’ve gotta run but it was really nice to meet you finally. i’ll see you around?”

“definitely”

+1. CLEATS

jessie was one of the most organised people you had ever met. she has a place for everything, her books, her training kit, her shoes, her spices, everything. she even leaves all her training gear by your front door when she stays over so she knows exactly where it is and doesn’t have to run around silly in the mornings.

this morning she hadn’t even been in a rush. she’d woken up at the right time, made the two of you coffee and breakfast, had a shower and got changed, and then left your place.

you had unfortunately woken up sick with a stuffy nose and nasty headache, meaning you took the day off work but even that didn’t disrupt her flow. she simply left you with painkillers, a full waterbottle and a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

so it was a surprise when you got up to make yourself a cup of tea and saw her cleat bag by the door. you checked your phone to check if she’d called, which she hadn’t, and then realised that she might not even know yet. you quickly abandoned your tea and got dressed into something you wouldn’t mind being seen in public in before making your way to the thorns training grounds.

you sent jess a text before leaving and then again as you pulled up before walking into the facility and stopping a staff member apologetically. he told you that they hadn’t started training yet and then pointed you in the right direction before he disappeared, leaving you to navigate the building on your own.

you cursed yourself and your stuffy nose as you went, just praying that you’d find jessie or at least a player you recognised.

you turn down a hallway when a door opens, revealing your canadian peering out puzzled “i swear i had them, they were with my bag when i left this morning!”

“maybe you were distracted” an unknown voice teases, earning a snicker out of a few other people.

jessie frowns and rolls her eyes “no, janine, i wasn’t distracted i— y/n?” she exclaims when she sees you, a look of surprise on her face “what are you doing here?”

“y/n!?” the voice from before — janine — shouts from the room jessie just came from.

she shuts the door quickly and holds it closed, smiling at you as you wave her boots “you left these this morning”

“oh my god” she says, taking them from you and pulling you into a hug. because she can’t help it, he places the back of her hand against your forehead “you’re not burning up like you were when i left”

“headache’s gone too” you say proudly “nose is still stuffy though”

she pouts momentarily before the door pushes open, revealing a blonde freckled woman. she grins at you “you’re y/n?”

“that’s me”

she pushes the door further and sticks her hand out for you to shake “i’m janine” she introduces as jessie rolls her eyes “jessie here has been a bit tight lipped about you”

“no i haven’t” your girlfriend groans.

janine rolls her eyes and pushes the door open fully to lean her hand on it “yes you have! we didn’t even know you were seeing her until sincy dropped your keys to her”

“but you knew she existed!”

“even that wasn’t clear!” janine exclaims again, throwing jessie a look “we thought you were making her up” she mumbles to herself.

“oooookay! y/n is sick so she has to get home” the younger canadian pushes back on the door. janine gives up and waves you goodbye, the grin still present on her face, before jessie clicks the door shut. she smiles at you “she’s joking”

“about you being tight lipped or about ypu making me up?” you half smile, grabbing her free hand.

jessie blushes “about making you up”

“ahhhhh” you say teasingly whilst nodding.

jessie squeezes your hand and tilts her head “thank you for bringing me my boots”

“anytime” you say quietly, leaning over to kiss her cheek. “call me when you’re finished?”

“of course” jessie says as you drop her hand, waving you goodbye as you walk down the hall.

[hoaxghost]

if blue is for angels, and red for demons, would yellow be for gods…?

For angels, it's less theyr'e blue and more so a glowing white. Using blue just helps me convey this ethereal 'glow' cause greys are a bit dull to use in art. Angels appear like those diffused led glowing lights people can put on bedside tables

While demons are 'red' because they're essentially flayed fleshy creatures who don't have skin. Heaven is very monochromatic because it's the resting spot of the Admin (aka god).

I should explain a core concept of File recovery too now that I'm on the subject- Essentially the only thing that existed before the admin was made, was the Everything: (a dark void) and the Nothing (a blank white void). The Admin or "The Tear" is a crack that formed between the two planes, acting as a window into either.

The Admin began then to weave the Everything and Nothing together, using the Everything like ink on the page of the Nothing. The first creations, Heaven and the angels, were all stark white and then overtime the Admin had begun to figure out how to create colours. Hell and the physical realmn (planets) were made much later after heaven thus their more abudant use of colours reflect the Admin's progressing skills.

So to answer your question: Everything closely connected to the Admin (angels) is that stark glowing white because they're the early test scribbles of a new and slightly bored god

[leclerc-s]

track 002. la del insta

─── ❝ todo comienza y se termina ❞ ───

masterlist // previous // next

NOVEMBER 2022

liked by danielricciardo, maxverstappen1, isabellaperez and others

redbullracing i have been told that my previous caption was not appropriate, so here's a boring pr one scripted by salty spice himself, daniel ricciardo returns to red bull as our reserve driver. it's wonderful to have you back daniel.

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📍isabellaperez alternate caption was the honey badger is back mother fuckers!! read it and weep!!

user43 i love red bull's admin and their chaos. wonder where christian horner found them.

↳ redbullracing he found me on the streets of monaco and picked me up by the scruff of my neck and told me he had a job for me. who was i to deny salty spice?

↳ danielricciardo you would love her less if you had to see her everday.

↳ maxverstappen1 at least you got a break for a while, i've been suffering for four years

↳ estebanocon you two have it easy, i've been suffering since 2016.

↳ schecoperez i've been told to say that i've been suffering for 19 years.

↳ isabellaperez fuck you guys (except tio checo. i love you)

↳ alexalbon don't worry isa, you're my favorite red bull admin

↳ isabellaperez thank you lily's boyfriend! you're my favorite williams driver!

user07 red bull admin is checo's niece?? plot twist. honestly though, i love her.

christianhorner this is not the caption we talked about isabella.

↳ redbullracing i would say sorry but we both know it's going to happen again. it's been happening for over 4 years.

user92 she's been apart of the team longer than checo? it's kind of iconic. but why red bull and not aston martin when checo was racing with them at the time?

↳ isabellaperez aston martin didn't have a position open and red bull did. it also allowed me to travel with my uncle which i've been doing since 2011, i was only going to stop because the fia demanded it due to covid.

user59 so do you live in monaco or mexico with checo?

↳ isabellaperez used to live in LA but the influencer life was not for me (check out my youtube channel) then i was convinced by my sister and arthur to move to monaco. i travel to mexico all the time, i have to see my mami of course!

BAHRAIN 2023

the youngest mclaren driver stood off to the side, nervous for his first ever formula one grand prix. his teammate seemed less nervous, but still nervous to a certain degree. oscar truly didn't want to fuck this up, not after everything that happened in the last 6 months for him. he noticed a brunette girl staring at him from across the pitlane, she gave him a small wave before turning to go back inside the redbull garage.

the younger brunette turned to look at the slightly older one, "who was that?"

the older one turned to look at him, “you don’t stand a chance. she's checo's niece, very overprotective that man is. not excluding you know, max and daniel. take it from me, i've tried.” 

“i asked who she was not if you tried to get her number.” 

“oh, i have her number, but i have a girlfriend, you pastry. matter of fact," lando said, "you have her number too."

“it’s piastri! you know this!” oscar shouted as lando skipped, literally skipped, away from him. oscar rolled his eyes at the older drivers actions before turning to go back inside the mclaren garage.

the brunette girl stood outside the redbull garage again, with daniel ricciardo at her side. she turned to look at the empty spot oscar had once been in, then back at daniel, “can't believe i still think he's cute. he's the enemy.” 

daniel laughed, "he's not the enemy isa. you're allowed to have a crush on someone." 

isabella rolled her eyes, running a hand through her hair, “i hope him the best at shit-claren.” 

“isa!” 

the girl laughed, “it’s true!” 

redbullracing posted a new story

alexa, play the boys are back from hsm2!!! welcome home honey badger!! we've missed you!! (salty spice told me no more cursing on official red bull posts)

liked by austinriley, maejones, redbullracing and others

isabellaperez we're back people!! bahrain 2023, praying for a better result than last year. please f1 gods, don’t give us a double dnf. (but at least ferrari had a 1-2!)

tagged: redbullracing

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danieljricciardo i know you aren’t liking your posts from the official redbull racing account

↳ isabellaperez what good is it running the red bull account if i can’t like my own posts?

user82 paddock princess is back people!!

↳ isabellaperez am i royalty like charles? people’s prince and poddack princess?

↳ charles_leclerc you wish you were as cool as me

↳ isabellaperez at least i don’t wear questionable pants.

↳ georgerussell63 she got you there buddy

user75 isabella running the red bull racing account but still being a tifosi will always be hilarious to me

↳ isabellaperez corporate espionage at it's finest (i'm kidding christian, please don't fire me)

logansargeant is it considered treason if i follow you?

↳ isabellaperez idk let’s ask alex_albon, is it treason?

↳ alex_albon he’s in the groupchat? how is this treason?

↳ logansargeant good to know

logansargeant and oscarpiastri started following you

redbullracing posted a new story!

1-2 in bahrain! what a way to begin the season! congrats maxverstappen1 and schecoperez (i’ve been told by helmut that i need to be more ‘professional’ whatever that means)

duckling to get over my crush on oscar i’ve decided to ask arthur for ollie’s number.

super max oh for fucks sake, don’t do that

duckling maybe i should text austin then.

honey badger DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE!

honey badger i will fucking confiscate your phone isabella estrella perez

duckling i don’t have a middle name. my sister does, it’s maria. honey badger i could not give less of a fuck. don’t you dare do such a thing.

super max I WILL CALL SEBASTIAN ISABELLA PEREZ!!

duckling don't threaten me with sebastian, max! that will do nothing!

super max added one person

honey badger had changed the group name to 'redbull's four musketeers'

paddock dad do i want to know?

super max ISABELLA WANTS TO TALK TO AUSTIN! TELL HER IT'S A BAD IDEA! duckling fuck you, you stupid maxi-pad

paddock dad isa, why would you do that?

honey badger SHE HAS A CRUSH ON OSCAR AND IS AFRAID OF LOVE! duckling i am not afraid of love. i’m afraid of falling in love, two very different things daniel super max yet another thing austin ruined for you. love along with getting a pet. paddock dad how the hell did he ruin getting a pet for her? honey badger honestly don’t remember but i think it was something along the lines of how his cousin had one and it got killed by a car. duckling i still want a dog he didn’t completely ruin that. paddock dad never let a man ruin anything for you or so my wife says

super max you might want to mute this chat seb, it was created to help isabella over any and all problems, small or big.

duckling okay fuck you verstappen

super max no thanks. i have a girlfriend. honey badger we're aware. we've heard nonsense super max do you really want to go there ricciardo? your wife wrote a song about only buying a dress so you could take it off honey badger DO YOU LIKE MAKING HER EYES ROLL VERSTAPPEN? DO YOU?

isabella had been so focused on her phone and texting back the others that she didn’t notice the person coming at her. she crashed into the person and her phone fell to the floor, landing with a loud crack. at least the crack sounded loud to her, but not louder than the ‘mierda’ she let out. she bent down to pick up her phone and so did the person she had bumped into, both reached for her phone, bumping heads.

“fuck,” isabella softly whispered, “you have a hard head,” she told the other person as she rubbed her head.

the person laughed, “guess that’s a good thing for an f1 driver.”

isabella’s eyes slightly widened when she realized who she had bumped into. she would recognize an australian accent anywhere, she had grown up near daniel ricciardo. oscar piastri was too busy inspecting her phone for any cracks to notice the expression she had made. he handed her the phone as both stood to their full heights, he was noticeably taller than her.

"no cracks," oscar told her as he handed back her phone. she smiled politely at him, "thanks."

"and your friends are blowing up your phone. i think you had like 10 messages come in while i was checking to see if it had any cracks. not that i read them-"

isabella waved him off, "it's just max and danny, they were arguing about who had the horniest songs written about them."

oscar laughed, "i'm oscar piastri."

"i know, i'm isabella perez" she replied, "i saw your alpine tweet, plus arthur talks about you a lot."

"i know," oscar replied, "arthur leclerc? you two know each other?" he questioned as they began walking together. isabella didn't know where he had originally been heading but now the two were walking back to their hotels.

"he's dating my sister, dulce? you might know her."

"oh, you're isa. i always wondered why they called you isa and not bella."

"because i will stab anyone who calls me bella," isabella emptily threatened. too enthralled on her phone she failed to notice the small smile on oscar's face.

"okay, bella."

isabella quickly looked up, glaring at him, "i'm glad you dnf'd."

"ouch," oscar dramatically muttered, "you wound me bella."

the two were interrupted by a voice shouting for oscar. they turned around and were met with the sight of alex albon and logan sargeant, both williams drivers also walking back to their hotel.

"alabono!" isabella shouted, rushing to hug the bleached-blonde. the taller driver opened his arms and accepted the hug, "hi, isa. did you have a good day?"

"no, charles dnf'd, so the ferrari in me is crying. however, the redbull in me is screaming for joy."

before alex could reply a ding interrupted him and caused isabella to look down at her phone. her eyes widened, and she handed her phone over to alex, "can you give this to max or danny later? i'm catching a flight on air-max later tomorrow."

alex nodded, "see you in glendale. or sooner."

"bye alex, bye logan, bye piastri!" isabella shouted as she ran off. logan looked confused between isabella's phone and alex, "why'd she give you her phone?"

the phone dinged again and alex sighed as he switched the phone to silent, "it's quite the story, one that either isa or dulce should tell you, not me."

"okay," logan said, he turned to oscar, "why'd she call you piastri?"

"oh, i called her bella," oscar replied, as if it was the easiest thing in the world. alex's eyes widned and logan knew their was a story there but he didn't pry. he wasn't close to any of the other drivers besides oscar, so he wasn't going to ask. he could be nosy sometimes but even he knew his limits. alex didn't want to talk about isabella's phone so maybe the phone had something to do with calling her bella.

"surprised you're still standing," alex said, "last time someone called her bella she kicked him in the nuts, and they had just met. he stopped calling her bella after that."

the two rookies exchanged looks as alex pocketed isabella's phone and pulled out his own phone and began to type furiously on it. logan's phone dinged moment's later but he ignored it, not wanting to make oscar suspicious. however, when his phone kept dinging oscar turned to him curiously and logan waved him off, silencing his phone.

"just friends from home, they were planing a party," logan quickly lied. oscar shrugged him off and logan was quick to divert the conversation to a random topic.

alex albon OSCAR CALLED HER BELLA AND HE'S STILL STANDING. NO BALLS WERE KICKED!!!!

dulce perez HE WHAT? BUT SHE HASN'T LET ANYONE CALL HER THAT FOR YEARS! EVEN AUSTIN WASN'T ALLOWED TO CALL HER BELLA

daniel riccardo THIS IS BIG NEWS PEOPLE!

lewis hamilton will you people shut up? some of us have an early flight to catch tomorrow.

fernando alonso mute them, i usually do that until the next morning. lewis hamilton i should start doing that

daniel ricciardo CARLOS DROP EVERYTHING NOW!!!

bailey winters MEET ME IN THE POURING RAIN! daniel ricciardo NOT THE TIME BAILEY! bailey winters IT IS ALWAYS THE TIME FOR DAPHNE JONES SONGS!

carlos sainz what happened? what did i miss?

arthur leclerc that's not fair, i've known her for years and i still get punched on the arm when i call her bella

dulce perez that’s because it’s usually “this is the skin of a killer bella” lando norris to be fair it’s a great line, and robert pattinson is great. team edward all the way daphne jones for legal reasons, team jacob natalia ruiz shall i tell suki lando’s in love with her boyfriend? lando norris CAN I MEET HIM? TELL ME I CAN!!

carlos sainz QUE ESTÁ PASANDO?! SOMEONE EXPLAIN!!

logan sargeant what’s the big deal with him calling her bella? it’s her name, no?

carlos sainz QUE? HE CALLED HER WHAT? dulce perez the only people allowed to call her bella was our dad, tio checo too, but ever since dad passed she hasn’t let anyone call her that. she says it was his name and only his. arthur leclerc her ex tried calling her bella and she kicked him in the nuts when they first met. he still did it every time he was angry at her. charles leclerc which was everyday and she always cried because only her dad was allowed to call her that. logan sargeant so the ex was an asshole? max verstappen biggest understatement of the year.

logan sargeant and that’s why she gave her phone to alex earlier.

mick schumacher HE TEXTED? AGAIN? I WOULD STRANGLE HIM IF I WOULDN'T LAND IN JAIL

daniel ricciardo i’m going to punch that guy. take a hint dude.

logan sargeant why don’t you guys just block him?

dulce perez oh why didn’t we try that? WE DID THAT YOU AMERICAN!

natalia ruiz seb said we needed to teach her to not reach out to him on her own. we're starting with confiscating her phone anytime he texts her and we give it to her the next day. it was hard to get where we are now, trust me. she used to fight us on it but now she just hands her phone over.

mae jones we're not quite sure what the next step is but we're making progress. maybe we can get her to block him on her own.

george russell so what exactly is the next step in operation osbella? obella? iscar? what's the official name?

fernando alonso how about 'all of you need to stop being invested in isabella's love life and go the hell to sleep?"

lando norris yes papa nando. fernando alonso that's going to stick isn't it? max verstappen absolutely lando norris 100 percent daniel ricciardo already making t-shirts lance stroll papa nando, papa seb, and uncle lewis mae jones good luck explaining that one to isa and oscar in the other groupchat.

¡leclerc-s speaks! it's austin gp weekend! (i live in california) anyways hope you enjoyed this one before quali today or after. expect more posts this weeked, maybe? i'm not sure yet.

¡disclaimer! this is in no way making assumptions about the people involved in this story, this is all fake. it is a fanfiction please don't take any of what is said seriously. this is all for entertainment purposes and as a creative outlet for me. enjoy!

[sleepy0s]

Its not called a Knife.

Pearl: Did you just refer to a knife as a “people-opener”?

YHS!Sam:

YHS!Sam: …Should I not have?

I have forcibly sat myself down and forced myself to write. So this might not be the best, I really need a schedule. Writer's block sucks. So does school. 

Hermits + YHS

Taurtis POV

~~~

Everyone was in the kitchen area, and by everyone I mean everyone who had weirdly appeared in our house over the weekend. (It is now wednesday. These strangers have been here since Saturday. help.) 

Xisuma, these peoples admin (Whatever an “Admin” is.) was leaning against the counter, on some fancy ipad full of numbers. Some zombie lady, a green guy, and some weirdo with broken wings (Cleo, Doc and Scar.) were all sitting on the sofa. And Grian, Sam and .. Pearl? Apparently it's pearl, not that Taurtis can speak, he's only seen photos of Grians sister, but she looks a lot different than in the photos.. Anyway! Those three are in the Kitchen making sandwiches.

I made my way into the kitchen, sitting on the counter near Xisuma.

“Where’s the ham?” Sam asked, looking through the fridge. That reminds me, we really need to go grocery shopping. “Should be behind the eggs.” Grian responded, not looking at Sam as he cut the cucumber, despite Pearl practically begging him to let her do it instead. Sam reached into the back of the fridge, grabbing out a plastic bag with some slightly soggy, maybe mouldy ham. 

“Ew! What is that?” Cleo gagged, looking over the sofa at the monstrosity in Sam’s hand.

“It's ham.. Obviously.” Sam rolled his eyes. 

Bored, I looked over at Xisuma’s ipad thingy. It was full of some fancy letters and characters, some of it was English, the rest some weird language that looked like Japanese but wasn’t. (Oh! I forgot to mention, Literally none of these people spoke Japanese. Not even Pearl. This wasn’t really an issue for Grian, as he's British. But me and Sam? Its torture! 

Secretly, I think grian is also struggling. We never speak English so I think the sudden change in needing to help translate is taking a toll on him. Poor Grian.)

I look back up at Sam, deciding that this guy’s ipad is hurting my brain. Sam, who was glaring at grian impatiently. “Gree-on! Hurry up! I need the people-opener for the Bread!” He whined, before shutting up as Grian handed it over to him.

“Pardon? Did- Did you just call the knife a people-opener?” Pearl stammered, eyes wide.

It took Sam a second to respond, trying to understand what she said. (see what I mean? Language barriers.) Eventually, Grian whispered it to him in Japanese, laughing.

Sam looked up at Pearl, head tilted at the taller girl. “Should I not call it a people-opener?”

“No!?” Pearl responded immediately.

[isolarya]

The Watchers

I think it's high time we talked about the Watchers, don't you? They're the monsters with a thousand eyes all in purple, seeking to hurt, to destroy-

Except they're not. These are Watchers told through stories and tales, passed down and down again. These are the Watchers we know, but there are others.

So let's talk about them. Let's go back.

Who are the Watchers?

(note from iso: these are my own opinions and headcanons! in no way take them as rules or me saying any other interpretations are wrong. they are all perfectly valid! this is just me making a fun headcanon and story based off an interesting fact i learned! but with fancy talk! this is honestly me just rewriting a lot of watcher stuff for personal headcanons)

This is my history of the Watchers, one piece at a time...

The Beginnings - PRE-EVO

Before Third Life, before Hermitcraft, there is Evo. The Watchers don't come from Evo. They come from before it, taken along on Grian's wings. They watch him, revel in his joy and take amusement in his falls. For now, they care about Grian, just like us. For them, there isn't much else to care about. How they found Grian, we may never know. But they did, and that's what matters. For a while, it is just a pesky bird- although he isn't quite that yet- and his many-eyed "friends". And then Grian lands in Evo.

The First Cohort - EVO

Before we remember the Watchers are gods, we must remember they were players first. When they land on Evo, they are still attached to Grian. in a way, they are part of him. His powers as admin seeps into them, and theirs into him. They watch the players with great interest, at first. But eventually, they do get bored. And so, the first portal is created. It hops them just a bit forward in time, into a slightly different universe, and the Watchers watch enjoy the new show. Then it happens again. And again. And again. Grian is the favourite, they soon learn. Chaos incarnate. The Watchers need entertainment, just like us, and Grian provides all the fun they could ever hope for. They like him, just as they used to. They play with him, even if he doesn't like it. He needs them, right? And they need him. It's fair, until it isn't. Finally, the Watchers have enough of this too. After long last, the players make it into the End. We all know the story. They find themselves alone on the pale yellow island in the void, with the black dragon looming above them. But there's something interesting about the End.

The Void - THE END

See, the End is in a void. A deadly void, full of stars that swarm you and kill you the moment you sink too deep. In the end, there is a portal, starry and shining and born of death, as dark as the void itself. And you jump in. You wake up, fresh in your bed, your anchor, your spawn. Do you wonder why? You died. But you wake up, because the universe loves you, blesses you with the precious gift of respawn. And here is where things change. Grian jumps into the portal. He dies.

With the Eyes - WITH THE WATCHERS

For a while, Grian is theirs. They take him away from Evo, claim him, pretend that everything is alright. After all, how is Grian supposed to be fun if he's upset? For a while, Grian is with the Watchers. It's fine, at first. The day the Watchers show him Evo again is the day they make their mistake. The one that changes everything. Grian refuses to toy with his friends. And so, he runs.

The Listeners - AFTER GRIAN

In the gap that Grian left behind, something new creeps into Evo. They know what the Watchers did. They know what needs to be done. And now, they aren't the only ones.

A Refuge - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SIX

For Grian, everything changes here. For the first time, he's not the focus of the Watchers' eye. Sure, they still swarm him and watch him, but that is nothing compared to Evo. Now, he has Scar and Mumbo and all the hermits and everything is going to be alright. Grian is safe. Sure, the Watchers may call for him to wage a little prank war, but what's the harm in that? Certainly nothing compared to Evo, that's for sure. Grian is free. The bird spreads its wings, and at last, it takes flight. His heart sings and sings and sings and he doesn't think he's ever been so happy in his life.

Canary Call - END OF EVO

Back in Grian's old home, the last remnants of the First Cohort linger. They've been dispersed, destroyed by time. And with their end comes Evo's end as well. The First Cohort dies that fateful night, forgotten by the Watchers that had left them behind. The Listeners escape the ruins of Evo, and they take the players with them. But it wasn't just the First Cohort that was left in the ruins. A second, older Watcher emerges from the darkness, and they change everything. They're going to go home.

Red on the Horizon - HERMITCRAFT SEASON SEVEN

At first, everything seems normal. The season starts like any other. They welcome Etho and Beef back, they have a bit of a base swap, Grian breaks down at least once- not necessarily in that order. Near the end of the season, Grian comes up with an idea. It'll be glorious. A game with three lives to live. Maybe he doesn't realise that's exactly what the Watchers want. Entertainment. They're excited, buzzing in their little corners of the world and watching with bright eyes like ours. Either way, Third Life begins.

To the Death - THIRD LIFE

The thing is, we all know what happens with Third Life. Loyalties are sworn, alliances are made, death is in the air. Whether the Watchers have a hand in this entertainment, who knows? When Third Life ends, the Red Army has fallen. The desert is a wasteland. The flower valley is abandoned. Dogwarts is silent. And above it all, there stands Grian, over a dear friend- perhaps more- who lies dead in the sand. Grian overlooks it all, and it is him the ghosts watch, accompanied by a thousand eyes. But Grian’s end is not the important thing here. No, it only brought a beginning to a new era of watching. The Watchers had followed Grian to Evo. To Hermitcraft. They had clung onto those players, twisting their tales to be entertaining. Why shouldn’t that happen with Third Life? It does.

Skyfall - HERMITCRAFT SEASON EIGHT

The Watchers are powerful. Where the First Cohort was passive, the new generation of Watchers take pride in leaning down and writing the story themselves. The beginning, the middle, and the end. The players are their puppets now, actors in a play until the end of time. And still, the Watchers are kind. The players are happy. No one knows why the moon fell. They weren't told then. You didn't know then. I can’t blame you. But let me tell you now. It was always going to be a means to an end. A world event, to bring the players together and a chance to weave new stories from the ashes, to test their control. To let them write their own stories too. The death of Season Eight was entertaining, if nothing else. And isn't that the only thing that matters? Are you happy yet? Entertained? Do you know what you have done?

The Rapture - EMPIRES

For the Watchers, the point of Third Life was never the game. It was the possibilities, the new players pulled from every corner of the world. It had never just been the hermits. When the game ended, the players went home. The Watchers followed. Here we stand, in Empires, where a new land was created by these players. Here, there are gods and deities, emperors and empires. There are Watchers. I call them the higher beings of Empires. They are not like the Watchers of Hermitcraft, who only twisted the strings of fate, nor the First Cohort, which only sought to be entertained. No. These new Watchers will create the story with the players as their puppets, even if they have to end the world to do it. You guessed this would happen. Are you pleased you are right? They listened to you. It only took a stroke of bad luck for Empires to end. An explosion, an earthquake, fire and ice and blade and ash. It could have been a coin flip. Heads, they survive. Tails, the world burns. But as we know, the coin was always going to land tails anyway. If it didn’t, what would be the point? Empires burns. The Watchers have won.

Martyn - ALONE

Sometimes, the last blessed one of the Listeners calls out. Jimmy has forgotten, and Martyn isn’t brave enough to fight them. So he turns to you. Is this what you want? Look at the fires of Empires, at the ruins of Season Eight, at the friendships shattered by the promise of lives. Look at the hurt you’ve caused. Can you still believe you didn’t care? This isn’t a show. This is a story, with real souls and real lives and real people. Why would you want this? So you will be entertained? The players are not happy anymore. It is your fault. Stop watching. Write your own story instead. Their book is closed.

Never the End - YOU

It was a good game, they say- you say. A good story. One that needed to be told. The players have done their part, and you have repaid them in good times, fun times, moments of joy. The hurt had always been there. It was a price that had to be paid. Now, they are happy. You are happy. It was been a good show. But are you happy? The players are not. Are you? When you look back on this tragic tale, will you be happy? Will you want more? Will you write them a happy ending? There are no happy endings in this story, you say. Only bittersweet ones. And really, isn’t it Grian’s fault that he’s hurting? After all, he was only ever meant to watch.

[grizzersmamma]

Son of Zmei | Fae AU | Nikto x F!Reader

A/N: Playing with @ghouljams​ ‘s Fae AU again, this time with my boy Nikto. This is just a bit of an intro to Nikto and his pet, our dear reader. We’ll get into what kind of creature Nikto is in the next part and how that plays into his personality. (I swear I’m working on the next BTL chapter, this fic is just on the side).

Warnings: Nikto being a bit of a creep. Reader gets knocked out lol. Nikto in this is similar to how he is in BtL, so kinda spoilers for that?

Series Masterlist: Here

CoD Masterlist: Here

Next Part

The little antiques and curiosities store you manage is quiet most days. The owner rarely visits, simply paying the bills from his comfortable home the next town over, leaving you to your own devices. So long as everything is kept clean and the newest items are properly displayed, the man doesn’t seem to care much for how you choose to keep yourself entertained throughout the day.  

You sit behind the shop counter most days undisturbed, tapping away at your laptop that seems frightfully out of place in a room filled with such ancient items. You can’t complain, however, as the pay is reasonable and most of the work is simple admin duties. You’re more than content to spend your work hours browsing the internet for new and interesting supplies and chatting with the elderly ladies that visit you every Thursday.  

Today is one such quiet day, with only the soft humming of the old lights hanging above you for company. Earlier, the nice lady who, for some reason, goes by the title “Witch”, had stopped by to talk to you about some sort of shop owner’s association being formed for the town. You thanked her for the consideration, informing her you didn’t actually own the store but would pass the word on to the owner. She had insisted that you drop by at some point, and you promised to consider it.  

You were the one tasked with running the store, even if the building didn’t technically belong to you, so perhaps it would be nice to get to know some of the people working nearby. The Witch seemed nice enough anyway, and she was one of the few people who purchased things from the shop rather than simply browsing the items. It would only be polite to accept such a kind offer.  

You’re drawn from your bored musing by the sound of the little bell above the door ringing, a figure moving into the entrance. As you push your laptop away from the main counter, you offer a bright greeting to the customer, straightening up to make it look as though you weren’t just leaning back in the chair, lazing about.  

The customer, what you can only assume is a man given their massive stature, turns a pair of ice blue eyes on you. He doesn’t return the greeting, just staring at you for an uncomfortably long moment, before he approaches. He’s dressed head to toe in black fabrics, not even his face visible save for the small holes in a rather large mask where his intense gaze pins you in place.  

Is this how you’re going to die? Murdered in broad daylight by a giant masked man? It seems likely given how the man is stomping toward you like a man on a mission, eyes not leaving your own.  

“How can I help you?” It comes out a bit strained as you struggle to get your voice to crawl its way out of your throat, vocal cords frozen in fear. Even stopping a few feet from the desk you’re stood behind, the man towers over you, looking down on you like you’re a tiny gnat underfoot.  

The man breathes out, the sound a strained rumbling noise like the growling of some sort of wild animal. You worry that he didn’t hear you, but a second later he finally speaks, “I have an order,” he growls. You weren’t expecting the deep, snarling voice and thick Russian accent that comes out of him, barely resisting the instinct to jump in surprise.  

“Right,” you breathe, slightly relieved that this guy just appears to be here on business and not actually planning on stabbing you. “What name would the order be under?” you ask.  

The man doesn’t appear to appreciate the question judging by the way the skin around his eyes crinkle slightly in distaste. He glares directly into your eyes as if your question is a riddle he needs to decipher. Eventually, he must find his answer because he finally answers you, “Nikto,” he grunts, “Son of Zmei.”

You battle to not furrow your brows at the rather odd name, knowing the people around this area are a little... quirky to say the least. To escape the awkward situation, you quickly dart into the storage room behind the counter where orders are stored for pick-up. There’s luckily only a single package, the name “Nikto” scribbled hastily across the top.  

When you finally return, the man, Nikto, has begun browsing the items on display next to the counter. His head shoots up the moment he catches sight of you, observing you again in that strangely intense way of his, silently placing the object he had been inspecting back onto the shelf.  

“Here you go,” you chirp, doing your best to plaster on a fake smile and not wilt under the man’s displeased look. He somehow manages to communicate a surprising amount of disgust with merely his eyes. You’re glad that the order was pre-paid, you’re not sure if you could handle trying to get money out of this man.  

He picks up the box, tucking it under his arm with a firm nod. “Good,” his voice, dangerous and low, sends a shiver down your spine. You’re not sure if it’s a good or a bad shiver. You’re about to breathe a sigh of relief, when the man turns around again. “You,” he snaps, “come with me.”  

You blink slowly at him, not entirely sure how to respond to being given a command like that. You awkwardly shuffle toward him, keeping a little bit of distance between the two of you. “Did you need something else?” you ask, cautiously.  

Before you can blink, a hand shoots out and grabs your face in a painful grip, yanking you closer. You gasp and try to pull the man’s hand off of you, but his grip is far too firm. “you will do,” he hums, looking you up and down. You want to ask him what the hell he thinks he’s doing, but he forces you to lift your head further, staring deep into your frightened eyes. “Sleep now,” he rumbles.  

The room tilts dangerously, or maybe that’s just you, your vision spinning. You vaguely recognise that the floor is rushing toward you, but before you can think much of it, everything turns black.  

When light floods back all you can focus on is the terrible stabbing pain behind your eyes. You huff slightly, nosing your face deeper into the pillow under your head, reluctant to get out of bed while feeling so sore. You open your eyes you’re met with an unfamiliar sight.  

The bed you’re currently resting in is not in fact a bed and this is decidedly not your room.  

You’re lying on an old couch, a soft pillow shoved under your head to keep your head from being too strained, even if the sofa is far from comfortable. A thick blanket is wrapped around your shoulders, keeping you warm. The house was old, a frosty draft blowing through the room and leaving you with goosebumps despite the comforter.  

You want to try and get up and explore the area. You don’t know where you are or who could be nearby, but your head is still spinning and everything seems to be cloudy. You hear the sound of heavy footfalls on the wooden floor and the door to the lounge room swings open. You try to scramble away from the man when he strides into the room.  

“Who the hell are you?!” You nearly screech, almost slipping over when you try to get out from under the blanket, disorientated. “Where am I?”

Nikto, or at least you think he called himself that, just stares at you as if you’re the one asking strange questions. He seems to decide that ignoring you Is the best course of action and continues where he was walking previously.  

You can't help staring slack jawed at the man as he just wanders past you and into the kitchen. After a moment of sitting in stunned silence, you cautiously rise from where you’re sat. You can’t recall how you actually got there, just a vague recollection of the man coming to the store and then nothing. The blanket is still curled around you, providing an extra layer of safety.  

When you finally muster the courage to poke your head through the doorway leading to the kitchen. Nikto doesn’t seem to be paying you much attention and, after taking a deep breath, you tentatively ask, “Why am I here?”

“You are payment,” comes the disinterested answer, the man still keeping his back to you as he digs through one of the cabinets, “you agreed to this, no?” His voice is still firm and aggressive in its tone, but for a moment your fear leaves you, replaced by anger.  

“No? Why would I agree to this?!” You snap, before you can think any better of it, “who the hell said I did?”

Nikto grows deathly still and, for a moment, you think you’ve angered him and your life may be forfeit. However, he lets out a deep breath, grumbling “this is... unfortunate...” under his breath. “Petrov is more of a coward than I anticipated.” You feel that statement was not for your ears as it’s mumbled softly under the man’s breath, but his voice is still loud enough for it to carry to you clearly.  

Petrov, your employer. The friendly old man who owned the store you worked at. He had told this stranger that you had agreed to be some form of payment? “So, uh, this seems to be just a big misunderstanding,” your words draw the man’s attention back to you again, his displeased, blue eyes narrowing at you, “can I leave now?” Your voice has started to weaken under the intense stare, sounding more like a strained squeak than a proper question.  

To your surprise, Nikto simply waves you off, “do as you please. We will deal with Petrov.” You genuinely weren’t expecting to be let go so easily, but this isn’t a situation you want to stick around to resolve and you certainly don’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth. Before you can move, however, he adds, “are you certain? The walk is long.”

“How far is it to town?” You slowly start moving away from the kitchen and toward what you assume is the front door.  

The man thinks it over, growling out an eventual, “two hours, as the crow flies,” just as you reach the front door. “Take dog with you.” He says, opening the door for you, and before you can ask what he means you almost trip over a large, black canine sitting at the bottom of the front steps. It’s absolutely huge, looking more like a small bear than a dog and you would be intimidated if it weren’t for just how poofy the dog’s fluff is.  

“Okay, uh, thanks?” You offer weakly, stepping around the dog. You’re not sure what else you can really say. ‘Thanks for not murdering me!’ ‘Please don’t go around kidnapping other people ‘cause that’s hella illegal!’ No, you don’t want to push your luck.  

The man doesn’t bother replying, stepping back into his house and closing the door with a slam that makes you jump. You hope you don’t encounter that creep ever again, especially with the whole murderer-in-a-cabin-in-the-woods vibes he gives off in spades. You quickly start putting distance between yourself and the stranger, trying to ignore the massive dog padding after you.  

Suffice to say, you’ll be handing in your letter of resignation first thing in the morning.  

[autisticlancemcclain]

Hunk’s nose always twitches when he’s about to throw up.

It’s something Lance noticed over the years. Inevitably, right before a muffled gag or a hunch in his shoulders, Hunk’s nose would give the slightest twitch. Sometimes Lance thought his nose knew he was about to blow before his brain did.

Of course, the nose twitch wasn’t the only way Lance could see the catastrophe coming. In fact most of Hunk’s tells were pretty dependant on outside factors — some people cracked under pressure but Hunk, in a way, exploded. Hunk’s moms didn’t call on schedule? Lance knew to guide his best friend to the nearest washroom. Exams coming up? Lance kept a bag on him. (He stopped feeling any kind of squeamish about it when they were about 13.) The cafeteria was serving those nasty ass mashed potatoes again? Looks like they’re choosing a table next to a trash can.

The point was that Lance didn’t need some asshole condescending doctor to tell Hunk that most of his stomach bugs were psychosomatic. Anyone with eyes in their fuckin’ head could puzzle that one out.

The problem, fucking obviously, came with solving the issue.

Hunk — and by extension, the people around him — had done everything he could to make himself less prone to upchucking. Back before they head known that a lot of it was caused by anxiety, he’d cycled through a stupid amount of meds and treatments for a shitty immune system he didn’t have. There was a point where he and Lance used to joke that Hunk had experienced every medical side effect known to man.

It was funny in a very, very sad way.

It was almost worse that it all boiled down to mental health, though. It made the whole thing that much easier to dismiss.

Lance lost count of the amount of detentions he got cussing people out for being a dick to Hunk. And the amount of flack Hunk received for low attendance, for class disruption, and whatever other bullshit Garrison admin cooked up, was ridiculous. At the very best, it kind of levelled up to a…tolerance, almost? Over the years the two of them had become so adept with handling Hunk’s anxiety that it became easier and easier to manage.

Thus, the nose twitching. So when they’re at a diplomatic meeting, one dreadfully boring morning, Lance sees Hunk’s nose twitch ever so slightly after a comment on the effectiveness of one or two paladin’s fighting styles — namely, that of the yellow and red paladins, who seemed to be very prone to refusing risk in name of team safety.

Lance pulls out a solution fast.

He admits that turning his blaster to stealth mode and shooting a leg of the meeting table without anyone seeing, causing a the entire table to collapse and halt in anything other than dealing with the New Matter At Hand, might have been the slightest amount of overkill. He probably could have just, like, excused the two of them, or something.

Oh, well.

Instead he hurriedly rushes Hunk down the twisting corridors of the planet’s parliament building, desperately trying to remember where he saw the bathroom on the way in.

“Lance? What’s going on? Why are you —” Hunk interrupts himself with a gag. “Oh,” he says queasily, “that’s why.”

“Just a little longer, buddy,” Lance assures, and luckily he’s proved correct seconds later.

He pulls Hunk into the bathroom in the literal nick of time, the yellow paladin hunched over the toilet mere nanoseconds before the retching begins. Lance crouches beside him, placing a sympathetic hand on his shoulder and digging around his fanny pack pouch thing (Altean uniforms are weird as shit) for a water bottle.

“Why does this happen to me,” Hunk asks miserably.

Lance knows this is rhetorical, so he keeps his mouth shut. Hunk has said this dozens of times before, after all. He doesn’t need Lance’s cajoling, probably.

But Hunk continues, wiping his mouth and accepting the water bottle, sipping slowly. “I haven’t had an anxiety attack in weeks.” He scoffs. “There hasn’t been fuckin’ time for it with all the other shit.” His expression turns somber again, glancing down at his knees. “Why do I keep — I don’t know. Struggling, I guess? It doesn’t make sense.”

That sounds less rhetorical.

“You didn’t just…outgrow you anxiety,” Lance points out. “I mean, yeah, you’ve essentially had to shut off the part of your brain that feels fear to do this job. Not literally, but you know what I mean. We all have. But, man —” he nudges Hunk until he looks up at him, brown eyes meeting brown. He smiles slightly, trying to convince some of the defeatedness out of Hunk’s face. “You’re still a massive worry wart, Hunk. You think about shit. All the time. And unfortunately for you, you’re smart as hell, so all that thinking helps you identify a million and one problems with everything. And that stresses you out.”

Hunk snorts. “I guess so. But you’re smart, too, and you don’t throw up all the time.”

“That’s ‘cause I cry, dude.” Lance hadn’t meant it as a joke — he really does cry all the time, which is endlessly fucking annoying, especially when he’s trying to argue with someone — but Hunk laughs, which makes Lance grin, too. “Anxiety is a bitch. I know. But I’ve got you, dude.” He reaches out and grabs Hunk’s hand, squeezing gently. “Okay?”

Hunk squeezes back, smiling. “Thanks, Lance. I’ve got you too.”

[itsohh]

Action Over Words

A/N: G/N reader, hhhh hii. I'm offically on stress leave from my job and when that finishes I'm either getting put into an admin role or I'm resigning so there's that going on. :))) anyway (I’m fine btw) I changed up the position a little bit cause this totally gave me an exact image that has been stuck I’m my head for weeks since I got this request.

Word count:   3505

Warnings: NSFT, smut, semi public, caught, voyerisum

AO3 Masterlist

Things weren’t very eventful around the base. Everyone continued their work as usual but you, however, were currently enjoying your free time. Legs up on Eliza’s lap, she didn’t care as you continued to play away on your phone. A grunt came from under you, not from your friend but from your lover who was on the other half of your seat. “Too heavy?” You asked without looking up from your phone.

“You are fine.” Shuhrat's voice was low while he read his book, hands rested over your body.

“‘Liza?”

“Hmm?” She looked up from her phone for a second. “Oh yeah, I don’t mind.” She waved you off with the back of her hand while the light hum of the television prevented any true silence. That hum was of course interrupted by the laughter of a small crowd of your fellow operatives. Pushing past a couple of men, Timur found his way to the four of you. His hair was rather damp and it was obvious that he had just come from the showers. A fact that was reflected by James and Seamus who were finishing their conversation in the doorway. It was apparent that Seamus had plans to go a different path and this is where they would split.

Annoyance was written on Shuhrat's face, already disturbed by the sound but he said nothing to change the matter. It was, after all, a room for everyone. “Hey Timur, training go well?” You leaned back, draped over the couch’s armrest.

“Could have been better.” He found his way to the free armchair and flopped down into it, tired. “Chul Kyung had his BOSG out today.”

“He get you?”

“Traded.”

“Rough, but hey, you learn more from your mistakes than your victories.” Your head tilted slightly towards him.

“That’s an interesting perspective.” Eliza pipped up from under you, eyes still on her phone in some important business.

“You disagree?” Timur leaned a little forward, his brow slightly raised at his question

“No.” Eliza hummed, flashing a look for a second. She opened her mouth to speak again but was promptly interrupted by James who had popped up next to you at the back of the couch. His wet hair dripped slightly on the couch and your eyes flashed over to him

“Ah, how's the quiet club going?” He laughed rather loudly.

“There's a reason why you're not part of the club.” You rolled your eyes.

“Ah sorry love, surprised your here though. Bright personality such as yourself.”

“I enjoy the company.”

“At what, you all just staring at your phone with a tv on that no one's watching?” You weighed your head at his doubtful face.

“Ah, yeah.” You grinned and he gave you a small huff.

“Well if you ever get bored the pair of us could go out, have some fun.”

“And pray tell, what's your definition of fun James?” His face lit up at the question and his tongue danced over his teeth.

“There's a theme park not too far from there, one way to get the blood going. I, of course, can think of more if you like.” He wiggled his brow a little which caused a small laugh to bubble under your breath.

“That sounds super exciting James.” He grinned and put his hands up for a moment. “But I think I get enough excitement from work. I think I’m happy just vibing in the quiet.” His face faltered at this and his shoulders dropped. “Perhaps you could take Max. He's into that sort.”

“Max would enjoy that.” Shuhrat who had been silently watching the interaction with Eliza and Timur finally spoke up. His voice was rather deeper than usual, dead serious. Determined to keep the peace, it was the only thing he could say. James’s eye line went past you to Shuhrat who shot daggers at the brit.

“Yeah, I’ll look into  that.” James lied.

-

In the comfort of the library, you had snuggled up in an armchair, book in hand. You had been there for a couple of hours undisturbed and at peace. “Good book?” A voice caused you to jump and you looked up to see James leaning on one of the bookcases.

“It's alright.” You put your thumb inside of it and folded the book closed on your lap. “Not sure if I will finish it but whatever.” His eyes flickered up from the book up to your face. “Something tells me you didn’t come here to talk about this mediocre novel.” He pushed off the bookcase and made his way over.

“I’ll cut to the chase, we both know there's something in between us?”

“Oh? And what would that be?”

“Chemestry babe. How about you ditch Mr reckless and I can show you a time that you really deserve.”

“Mr reckless? That's rich coming from you James. What's in the canister hmm?”

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.” You rolled your eyes at this and leaned back in the armchair.

“I’m quite happy with Shuhrat. He's nice.”

“Come on” He threw his hands up. “Nice? Your settling for nice? How many years have you two been at it going nowhere? Nice doesn’t get anyone going. No one watches softcore and I think your the same.”

“You know when I picked this book up, I thought it had an interesting cover. Turns out it's pretty meh.” He cocked his brow as your focus was on examining the book. “Don’t judge a book by its cover I suppose.” Your eyes flashed to his and as you opened your mouth your eyes noticed something behind him. Rather someone. An unreliable expression was on Shuhrats face as his knuckles were completely white around the book in his hand.

His eyes met yours and it finally allowed him to snap out of the haze he had focused on James. You had no idea how long he had been standing there. Silent step by silent step, he made his way over to James. “Excuse me.” James practically shot into the air at Shuhrat's voices and he whipped around with wide eyes.

“Hey, Shuhrat how-”

“You're in front of the bookcase. I want to put my book back.” It wasn’t often that Shuhrat interrupted people.

“Oh, sure here.” James slid to the side to give your partner enough room. A thick tension had stolen the air but Shuhrat wouldn't do anything. He wasn't that type of person. Overall when it came to the bottom line, Shuhrat trusted you. All eyes were on him as his fingers brushed over the bookcase until he found what he was looking for. The well-read book came out with ease but he didn't take it out for himself. Step by step he slowly made his way over to you until he stopped, your eyes peering up at him.

"For you. I think you will enjoy it."

"Aww, thanks hun." Your face lit up as you took it from him. Shuhrat wouldn't start a fight with James. But he could keep any focus you had away from James and on him.

"It's one of the books Elias translated."

"Elias translates books?" Your brows rose.

"In his spare time. There's a few in the library, if you look inside the first page you should see his name." Lo and behold, at his instructions, you opened the book, your own book discarded, and there you spotted your friend's name in full.

"Huh. Wow, I had no idea, does anyone else have any cool hobbies like that that I don't know about."

"Marius restored the spit-fighters at Hereford."

"What really?" At your question, Shuhrat found the armchair next to you and sat down.

"Quite an impressive job he did as well…"

-

A creature of habit. That's what you were. It was a fact that both Shuhrat and James had picked up on. For the last three days, you had found comfort in the library. In the afternoon just after dinner, it was always empty and so you could find a resemblance of peace. One that James had started to join you on. Shuhrat had picked up on this. Snuggled up on the loveseat you noticed movement in the corner of your eye. “Hey, James.” You didn’t bother to look up from your book.

“Not James.” Your head snapped up at Shuhrat's voice and your lips parted in surprise.

“Oh! Sorry, I uh.” You looked away in embarrassment and cleared your throat. Recovering you gestured to the spot next to you with the side of your head. “Here to join me?”

“Yes.” Despite not having a book on his person, he sat down in the empty spot. Unlike him, his arm found its home around your shoulder. Not one to complain, you shifted your body so that your head rest more on his chest and shoulder, leg against his. Shuhrat normally wasn’t one to be so public with affection but your history in the location told you that it was extremely unlikely that one would come across the pair of you. The light pressure of Shurhat’s lips on your head had you let out a small hum before you tilted your face at him.

“Mmm, what got you such in an affectionate mood?” He looked away for a second at the question, his jaw slightly locked. A deep breath left his mouth before his head snapped back towards yours. The motion didn’t stop as he leaned forward and pressed his lips against yours in a rough colliding of lips. Eyes wide, you didn’t expect this from him but slowly melted into his touch. Only for a second did his lips separate from yours. “Mine.” Again he smashed his lips against yours for a messy fight of saliva. Shuhrat leaned over slightly, his hand meeting the thigh of yours that was furthest away from him.

A gasp left your lips as he grabbed onto it and with one swift movement he pulled you onto his lap in a straddle. The book fell from your hands as your hands instinctively shot out to his shoulders for support. “Shuhrat.” You managed to get out before his lips were against yours again. “What's got into you?” It wasn’t a complaint, not by a mile, but he was still acting different from usual.

“Sick of James.” A soft expression settled on your face and you leaned back away from Shuhrat. Your fingers found the sides of his face as you cupped his jaw in your hands.

“You know that I don’t care for him in that way right? That I wouldn’t ever even think of leaving you for him. You know that right?” Concern was written on your face as Shuhrats brows pulled back.

“Of course, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t tick me off.” Shuhrats arms came around your waist and pulled you forward on his lap so that your chest was pressed against his. “He seems to be the only one that doesn’t realise the situation at hand.” His grip on you tightened but not enough to hurt in any manner.

In an attempt to lighten his pissed-off mood, your hands slid from his face to hang behind his neck. “Oh? And what is the situation at hand Shuhrat?” Your purred out his name and licked your lips, still lightly tasting the remnants of his lips.

“That I take care of you.” He growled out, his lips back against yours in a matter of seconds. In a fury of messy kisses the pair of you were left breathless. Your fingers wove their way into his brown hair, tugging on the back of it for more. Shuhrats hands settled down on the side of your hip, slowly urging you to roll them against him. Testing the waters you started to grind against him, something so public unheard of by him.

Only ever in the privacy of his locked room and on the odd occasion in your own room, did he touch you so. With a tug of his hair, you pulled his face away to catch your breath. Yet his lips didn’t stop, nipping their way down your throat until he made a decent bike on the crook of your neck. Pain shot through you with a zap but quickly softened as his tongue danced over the ‘wound’ soothing it in the process. “I swear to god Shuhrat if you leave any marks I will cover them up with makeup if I had to.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s unprofessional.”

“So is riding me in the library.” Your body stopped its rocking motion in his lap…you weren't… “...Shuhrat…”

“If you don’t want to we don’t-”

“Your serious.” You breathed out and he leaned back in the loveseat.

“Dead.” He held your gaze while your blood raced, the pair of you had never done something so risky.

“Do you even have any….” Your voice trailed off as he fished out a small plastic bottle from his jumper.

“You planned this.”

“I try to plan most things I do.” Silence filled the air as the pair of you stared at each other, blinking. You opened your mouth to speak but shut it again a second later. Shuhrat watched you do this a couple of times before you stopped and then gave him a sultry side-eye. He held your gaze and a second later the pair of you burst into action. In a fury of rushed movements, Shuhrat helped you remove the hoodie of yours from your body before he slid open your buttoned shirt with ease.

Shuhrats lips latched onto your nipple, his hands palming your ass before he got a good handful. His name was a gasp on your lips as he picked you up, your legs wrapped around his waist automatically. A wet pop came from Shuhrat as his lips disconnected from your nipple, panting slightly as he carried you to the nearby desk. The cool touch of the wooden table seeped through your thin shirt as Shuhrat let go of you. Your eyes fell down to his belt that jingled slightly as he undid it with one hand, snaps of rough movements until he freed his cock. Hard from your grinding, he couldn’t deny there was a thrill at the thought of being caught. Especially by him.

With a quick fumbling of your jeans, you managed to partially shove them down before Shuhrat helped with the rest and completely removed them from you. Nocking your jandals off in the process, your jeans fell to the ground and Shuhrat popped open the lid of lube. Not caring about where the lube got, he coated both hands before he hooked your legs up to his shoulders.

Two fingers breached you rather quickly, far more quickly than he had in the past. Always one to be rather slow, it wasn’t often that he made haste. An admittedly pathetic whine echoed from your lips as he stretched you open, your head falling back on the desk while your fingers scratched the desk. Shuhrats fingers curled and stretched your entrance in preparation for him. A light slap on your ass had you jump slightly, mouth gaping open. It was the only warning you gained before he aligned himself and pushed in with the quietest of groans.

A few curses left his mouth under his breath and you weren't sure what he said, you just knew it wasn’t in English. His cock filled up you in all your entirety as he started to slam into you. His hair was slightly damp and moved with his body. Shuhrats fingers dug into your skin with one thing on his mind. Claiming you. Reduced to light babbles, your words were a mix of praises and begs, urging him to continue his rough and fast pace.

The slapping of his skin hitting yours stopped for a second and your voice was a protest when he suddenly pulled himself from you. Your cries were ignored as he pushed your legs from his shoulders only to flip you over. With your face pressed against the table, you had a perfect few of the narrow passageway that lead to the library entrance. A sigh of relief fell from your lips when Shuhrat entered you once again. The new position gave him an easy grip on the desk. Leaning over you, his chest met your back. “Mine.” He hissed in your ear, slamming into you without mercy.

“Fuck! Shuhrat.” He slapped a hand over your mouth, his arm curled around so your head lay on it instead of the desk.

“Quiet. Don’t want to let the entire base know how good I’m fucking you.” His voice was a purr in your ear causing you to whimper into his hand. “Unless that's what you want? Perhaps people will learn who you belong to.”

Lost in his overwhelming presence and pleasure you didn’t notice at first when the door opened despite looking straight at it. Frozen in place James started at you slack-jawed while Shurhat nailed you to the table. To get your partner's attention, you bit down against his hand in instinct he moved it down slightly. “Door.” You managed to get out, despite it ending up as a moan. Shuhrats eyes went in the same direction as yours. Just in time to see the book in James’s hand fall to the ground. One you had recommended to him. If it had been anyone else, anyone else, Shuhrat would have felt embarrassed. He would have stopped. Apologised in shame even.

But it wasn’t just anyone. It was James.

So, he fucked you harder.

Without his hand, there was nothing but your own will to stop your little whines while James stared, watching. “Shuhrat, please. Fuck, I’m so close.” You whimpered out, despite of your audience.

“Whos making you feel like this?” The question lay unanswered for a moment but at the threat of him slowing down you quickly answered.

“Y-you are.”

“Mmmm, you can do better. Whos making you feel like this?”

“You Shuhrat, you are, oh my god.”

“Can anyone else make you feel this good? Know your body as I do?”

“No, no one can. Shuhrat please can I-”

“Who. Do. You. Belong. To?” His hard thrusts were in time to his hips, eyes on your face. Jaw locked as he held you right on the very edge.

“You! Shuhrat you!”

“Good, now cum for me.” At his permission, you finally let go. Your eyes were on James’s as you melt into the table. Body like jelly, your lips parted and you practically drooled onto the table. Mind empty, pleasure consumed your core to the point where your head spun. A small moan left your lips as he pulled himself from you. Despite not meeting his peak, he was done here.

Motionless, you didn’t even try to move when Shuhrat pulled from you, your legs coated in your cum. He was quick to pull his pants up. Over your shoulder you watched him. Only when you saw the knife be produced from his pants did you snap out of your sex haze. He flipped it around once before gaining a good grip on it. With your trained eyes, you watched as he sent it flying through the air. It made a solid thunk in the wall next to James’s head. The threat of death, shocked him out of his frozen state and with wide eyes, his eyes flickered from yours to Shuhrats for a second. Then he was gone. In a quick dash, he made his exit, knowing his stay was long past its welcome.

“Voyer.” Shuhrat spat under his breath, he had noticed the hard-on that James had been sporting. “Perhaps he has learnt not to touch someone that isn’t his.” Your lover helped you up and into your jeans, your face cringing as you covered the liquids on your legs. Despite his voice being focused on James’s ‘interruption’, his focus was on you as he helped you back into your hoodie. “Let's get you cleaned up in my room.” He placed a kiss on your cheek as your eyes flickered to the knife embedded in the wall. In a way, the thought made your cheeks heat up a bit.

“Perhaps we could continue in your shower.” You quietly said when he lead you by your hand. He cocked his brows up before the side of his lips curled him. The hand in your hand tightened while he pulled you along. The knife was ripped out of the wall and tucked back into the sheath in his pants.

“Let's make that perhaps a definite.”

[fracturedfamilyau]

Welcome to Ask Fractured Family AU!

This is an askblog for the Fractured Family AU! Ask and interact with Charlie, Evan, Cassidy, and even more characters! On this masterpost, you will find almost everything you need to know about this blog!

This blog is run by a singular admin, @theobs3ssivepuppeteer AKA Puppeteer. If you have a question/interaction for the admin themself, please specify in your ask.

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Upon interacting with the characters, you will be shown as an anon, regardless of whether you ask anonymously (The admin can't draw that many characters!)

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Submitting asks as an anon places you in the regular asker category, regardless of who you are!

What is the Fractured Family AU?

The Fractured Family AU is an AU created by Puppeteer which differs slightly from canon lore.

After the events of FFPS, the pizzeria burns down. However, some of the spirits involved in the fire did not disappear. Three of those spirits, Charlie, Cassidy, and Evan (The Crying Child) were taken in by the fire's sole living survivor; Henry. They now reside in his house.

The events of UCN never took place, as Cassidy no longer had a reason to cling to her desire for revenge.

Michael also survived the fire, and lives nearby.

Henry is the owner of Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex, assisted by Michael.

The AU takes place shortly after the Pizzaplex has been opened, before the events of Security Breach/Ruin

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Below is a list of characters that can currently be interacted with!

Charlie Emilly

Cassidy Brooks

Evan Afton

Henry Emily

Michael Afton

Tags

Answering Asks/Plot - #Fractured Family Plot

Out of Universe Comics/Jokes - #Fractured Family OOU

Questions for Puppeteer - #Puppeteer Answers

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[3raaaachachacha]

9:02 pm

Na Jaemin x female reader / words / fluff / suggestive

Warnings: drinking, implied suggestive thoughts

Disclaimer: contains 18+ content; minors do not interact

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

“Wow, who is that?” Was all Jaemin had said the entire night as he gazed over to your beautiful self. You were dressed in a fitted silk black dress with a large slit down the side to reveal your tone leg in your gold heels.

The boys were invited to the Presidential Gala, and if he was being honest, Jaemin was fucking bored. These types of events weren’t really his scene, but as you arrived, he seemed to become more interested in the event.

“That’s Y/N L/N. She’s the President’s niece,” Mark whispered to the group as Jaemin never took his eyes off you.

He wasn’t sure what it was about you, but he had to talk to you. He had to meet you, “I’ll be right back,” Jaemin said before downing the rest of his drink, handing the empty glass to Renjun.

“I’m not a trash can Jae! Wait, what are you doing? Jaemin!” He angrily exclaimed, trying not to make too much of a fuss to attract unwanted attention from others.

Before Jaemin could answer, he was gone. He strolled around the large gala as he finally noticed your outside on the balcony with a glass of wine in your hand. He grabbed on before taking a deep breath, fixing his suit, and making his way over to you.

“Hi, I’m Jaemin,” He said, giving you the prettiest smile you’d ever seen as he leaned against the balcony ledge with you.

“I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you,” You politely smiled back at him, finding him very handsome, yet very comforting for someone you had just met. Usually, you were a bit intimated by handsome men, but the aura he gave off was sweet and shy. It was a nice change.

“I’m honored to meet such a beautiful lady,” He complimented as he heard the song change from inside, “Care to dance?” He placed his drink down and extended his hand.

You drank the rest of your drink, blushing slightly, “I don’t usually dance in front of others,” You smiled at him, still wanting to take his hand.

He pulled you into his tone chest as your cheeks went red with wide eyes, “Let’s dance alone out here. I would prefer to have you to myself anyways,” He smiled down at you as you happily sank into his touch, taking his hand in yours.

The two of you swayed back and forth to the song, looking into one another’s eyes in silent. It was a comfortable silence. Even after just meeting, you felt as if you’d known him for years as if he was meant to be in your life. It was a weird, unexplainable feeling, but truthfully, you were happy you downed the rest of your drink to not overthink it.

“Jaemin, would you like to check out the garden with me? It’s beautiful and secluded, so no one can interrupt our time together,” You suggested, not realizing how seductive it may have sounded, yet it wasn’t as if you weren’t thinking it as well.

Jaemin smirked as you saw a small blush form on his cheeks, loving how he even became flustered at times, “Of course. Anything for you love,” He extended his hand for you to take, “Lead the way.”

You smiled happily up at him before taking his hand in yours and quickly walking away from the gala entrance to spend some much needed alone time with sweet and handsome boy you just met.

⊱ ──────────────────────── ⊰

- Admin 🦋

[lesbiansandgayssupporttheminers]

Slightly boring post alert but important with all these ballots going on...

Make sure your union membership details are up to date, address, email etc. Make sure if you've left a place of work you let the union know.

If you're a rep, check the details for your workplace - I did this recently, found duplicate records and about 10 people who'd left still on our books.

Stuff like this can be used to overturn strike action or may prevent unions reaching the threshold for action - admin is important.

[shortfeather]

the way the water echoes

did a little sprint based on that neverend mod idea, centered on cleo courtesy of @tripping-sideways. posting this mostly unedited; i think tumblr-only writing is gonna be more casual for me than AO3.

warnings: isolation, sort of imprisonment, liminal spaces, drowning, minecraft death mechanics including deliberately forcing a respawn

It doesn’t really hit her until she’s staring at the pit that leads to a second level, communicator hanging silent at her waist, how much trouble she’s in.

Cleo had been searching for an End portal a little closer to their base. Even with the Nether shrinking the distance eightfold, the main portal was ridiculously far from their home, and considering the amount of endstone she was going to be using this season it made sense to find one nearby. The stronghold had been half flooded, and they’d come close to death against the Drowned in the halls before finally making it to the portal room.

The lava was warm against their undead skin, even as the portal frame exuded a voidlike chill. To their delight, the frame had been mostly filled, just two eyes short. Cleo had popped them in, set a bed down for spawn, double-checked their gear, and hopped on through. Had bent their knees slightly, the way every new player is taught, so the jolt of the hard obsidian landing doesn’t do any damage.

Instead, she’d fallen far and landed in a deep pool of water, surrounded by white walls and with a beautiful blue sky shining down from above her. The exact opposite of what they expected.

Really, this whole dimension is about as different from the End as it gets. The End is all disconnected islands, here is a never-ending series of halls and rooms. The End is dark and cold, here is bright and pleasantly warm, enough for the cool water that covers the floor to feel like a comfort. The End is dead, and here there are bushes of something her inventory calls liminalgae, and occasionally, groups creatures similar to axolotls called poolfish. She can even pick them up, attracting them with the liminalgae like a cow to wheat. They're rather cute. The End is mostly void, here there is a beautiful flat ocean beyond the walls that an invisible barrier prevents her from reaching.

The End is a place Cleo knows how to leave, and here she does not.

She’s tried. The first thing she did upon scrambling out of the water was message X, only for her communicator to show a chat validation error. Their messages can’t go through, though waiting about ten minutes shows that they can still see the messages everyone else is sending. That’s comforting, to a degree; if they wait long enough, someone will realize something is wrong, and Xisuma can do his admin-y things and get them out of here. She’d told Joe what she was doing right before she found this dimension; maybe he’ll look into it even before someone thinks to call X in.

While she’d waited for other messages to come in, she’d taken a look around the room. Everything was made out of some variant of an unfamiliar block, similar in look to an iron block, but with a grid pattern and a feel like glazed terracotta. The entrance was decorated beautifully with bushes of the liminalgae stuff, which broke easily beneath her fist and stacked nicely in her inventory.

Which was also how she discovered her inventory was empty. 

Around then, her communicator had displayed a message from Mumbo, something about server lag. Cleo ignored it for a moment, because their inventory was empty, even their armor slots and offhand—they’d been fully prepared to go End mining, going so far as to stick a carved pumpkin on their head. It’s all gone.

Then they process that their communicator buzzed, and the fact that it’s not completely broken isn’t nearly as relieving as it could have been. They still can’t send messages out, but they can see what their friends are coordinating, and be prepared for whatever rescue entails.

Whenever rescue comes.

It doesn’t take long to get bored, which is why Cleo starts exploring, despite the fact that their F3 screen only says no, lmao. X is going to get an earful for including whatever mod this is when she gets back—

For now, they wander. They find some bizarre architecture choices, and rooms full of poolfish and liminalgae both. They discover, with a deep sense of dread, that the beautiful view of the flat ocean outside is a mirage; exploration reveals a set of windows that theoretically should point directly into another hallway, but instead show that bright blue sky. Whatever’s out there… 

Well, she’ll never know what’s out there, because the block refuses to break beneath her fist, no matter how long she punches at it. Same with the walls.

For untold days, she wanders. Without her F3 screen, there’s no way to be accurate about the time she’s spent here, but it feels like a week and a half. There’d been a jolt of hope when Joe asked if someone had seen them recently—but Tango had reminded him that they were End mining, probably deep in the grind by now. It’s been a week and a half, approximately, of ankle-deep water in hallways, and deeper water in grand, open rooms, and nothing to eat but liminalgae and nothing to do but walk around and breed poolfish. They’ve been staying close to the spawn room, unwilling to lose their one known location in this unknown dimension.

Their communicator buzzes more as time passes: Doc pranking Gem, Gem killing him in revenge. Xisuma reminding everyone to avoid the world border chunks until the next update. Grian pretending to be Iskall’s conscience, teaching him how to use boats. She mutes the communicator. It hurts to see everyone this way, while she’s stuck here.

She still checks it; she's not stupid. She just… can’t keep watching the texts fly by without her.

And then she finds the pit.

It’s a room unlike any other she’s seen so far. It leads down, deeper than even the deepest pool of water she’s encountered, and it’s filled with rows of stacked arches, bridging the gap. She crouches onto one and peers down. It’s darker, but not pitch black, and there’s a pool of water at the bottom, the same shape and size as the one they originally fell into.

In her inventory, her collection of favorite poolfish squirm. Cleo’s guts match the motion, because this is obviously where the dimension intends them to go. The pit yawns before her like a beckoning, like a challenge. But there’s no blocks here, no drops from poolfish or craftables with liminalgae. If Cleo jumps down, she has no way back up.

No way save dying, drowning or starving wherever she finds herself. Because that was the other thing she’d tried, when her messages refused to send and her inventory yielded nothing. Cleo had dove down to the bottom of the spawn room pool, and pushed all the air out of their lungs, and breathed in that cool water.

It worked everywhere else. It wasn’t pleasant, but it worked, and they were a grown-up who could work with something that wasn’t pleasant.

They’d respawned in free-fall and crashed into the very pool they’d just died in.

That had been a very brutal realization: they were stuck here. And yet it feels like that realization pales in comparison to the pit before her, the pit that calls to her so tauntingly with its insinuations. That there is more to this place than white walls and fake ocean and sunlight. That there is escape, if she’s willing to fight for it. Escape that may come quicker than her friends.

Cleo has always been a fighter. But they’re smart, too. Before committing either way, they check their communicator.

Unread messages:

<GoodTimeWithScar> DONT HOTGYU ME

<GoodTimeWithScar was shot by Grian>

<Grian> get gud 

<iJevin> seriously, is cleo just living in the end at this point?

<StressMonster101> Im sure theyll be back soon, luv

Without timestamps, it’s impossible to tell how recently Jev and Stress sent their messages, but they make Cleo waver. The safest option is to wait near the spawn room, where X or Joe will eventually spawn in and help her escape with their admin-y ways. With the poolfish and liminalgae, she can survive as long as necessary, although the liminalgae doesn’t seem to regrow. Still—up here, where she understands the terrain, is safest.

<iJevin> stress its been a MONTH

<iJevin> even for a megabase grind thats ridiculous

Cleo’s stomach falls out from under them.

A month?

They’ve been stuck in this endless pseudo-paradise for a month, and people are only just now worrying—

No. No, fuck this, fuck everyone except Joe who asked about them way back towards the start, except he hasn’t said anything since so actually fuck him, too. And fuck X for chatting about updates like everything’s normal, and Ren for saying innuendoes and double entendres like nothing’s wrong, and Grian and Scar for being Grian and Scar when she’s stuck in here—

Fuck Jevin especially, for saying that where they could see, where they could realize no one is coming for them.

Distantly, Cleo realizes that this is a bit much, that people do regularly go off and grind resources for absurd lengths of time, but that doesn’t stop her from beating back sobs by fostering the rage in her chest. Distantly, she realizes that this is all uncomfortably close to a breakdown, and they don’t get those. They don’t do those; they’re a fighter, someone whose first answer is violence and barbed words and arson. 

So. Fuck their friends. Fuck them all. Cleo will rescue herself. 

They double-check their poolfish and liminalgae count—enough to last another goddamn month, if need be—and jump into the dark waters far, far below.

[tomwambsmilk]

Choose Your Own Succession Adventure: Episode 3

You don't actually know where the staff meeting is taking place, but it's not hard to figure it out - you spot a small pack of people walking Importantly and With Purpose, and follow them to a large conference room with glass walls where people are congregating.

You realize that you're going to stick out - you're too young and you're clothes aren't expensive enough for anyone to believe you're senior management. But... you could pass as an admin assistant (which is what you technically are anyways). You find a supply closet a few feet away and loot a yellow legal pad and some pens, before turning around and heading to the conference room.

The key to something like this is confidence. If you look like you're supposed to be here, people won't question it. You square your shoulders and walk in. There's a chair in the far corner - out of the way. Good. It'll look like you're just there to take notes. You brush by the executives clustered around the table; they barely take notice of you, to wrapped up in their notes and quiet conversations.

You settle in and take a second to look around and observe. A quiet tension lies over everyone in the room. A couple of people drum their fingers nervously on the table.

You catch some movement out of the corner of your eye - a man in the hallway, who appears to have been running, abruptly slows to a walk as he reaches the room. You watch him glance through the glass walls, reach for the door handle, and then attempt to pull open what is clearly a push door. And then try again. It's not until his third try that he seems to figure it out.

He makes his way around the room, and you can smell the nerves on him as he makes some crack about the Death Star. He glances at you and nods as he walks by, which catches you off guard. He's the only person in the room to acknowledge you so far. He takes an empty chair only a few feet away from you at the table as Kendall enters, flanked by an entourage of suits.

He looks... smaller than you expected. He's always seemed a bit larger than life; now, he seems dwarfed by everyone around him. But all eyes are on him as he enters the room and takes a seat, along with everyone in his entourage - except an even shorter and slightly rat-faced man, who declares his back to be "fucked" and wanders around the outside of the table, looking bored.

Kendall opens the meeting by welcoming the new Head of Parks, Tom Wambsgans - and you realize he's indicating the man who struggled with the door. Who is also, apparently, your boss, and also possibly the one person who noticed you were here and might remember it later. Shit.

Thankfully, Tom seems too nervous to really be noticing much. You watch him reach for a drink of water, fumble the glass, spill some on his tie, and try to discreetly wipe it off.

"Lifeboats", Kendall is saying, "We need lifeboats," and that's.... not encouraging, for a company you've just started at that's supposed to be your ticket to financial stability. But that's just your fucking luck, isn't it? This is just like when you started working for that ice cream place and the health department closed it down one week later. Or that restaurant which, in hindsight, might've actually been a mob front. You're not 100% sure.

You discreetly pull out your phone and pop open Twitter. Your Twitter following is pretty small, mostly friends and a few family members - you really just use it for venting and memes. "jfc," you type, "I think I poisoned yet another company... my first day and Kendall Roy is talking about how #waystarroyco needs to avoid the iceberg. rip 💀"

You turn your attention back to the meeting, which is - ending? Already? Shit, that was fast. You try to look Studious and Official as you flip through the yellow legal pad on which you've written "icebergs", "lifeboats", "Tom Wambsgans", - and nothing else. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Tom leave the meeting and approach Kendall. You can only hear bits and pieces of the conversation over the murmur of voices but you catch a somewhat forced self-deprecating laugh.

"Shake that tree, C3PO," you hear Kendall say as he turns to go.

"Shaking the tree!" Tom responds by laughing - but as he turns to go, his facial expression changes from lighthearted to suicidal. Jesus. It briefly occurs to you that if you were a worse person, you could probably get this man to kill himself and leave you all his money.

Your common sense suddenly slams back into you. You're on borrowed time right now - you're officially VERY late, and if Tom gets back down to the 14th floor and finds out you haven't shown up yet, that's going to look bad. He's also seen you, and it's unlikely you would've been assigned to scribe this meeting on your first day. Fuck.

He's heading for the elevator. You could try to take the stairs - you might be able to sprint faster than the elevator will make the trip, and if you can get your head down and get shuttled off to HR before he notices you, maybe he'll forget your face.

You can also hear the sounds of Kendall and his entourage drifting up the hallway. You don't think any of them paid any real attention to you - if you follow them up to the executive floor and look lost, someone might redirect you, and that'll validate any story you have about getting so lost you spent.... 90 minutes wandering around the building without ever finding Parks.

You could also just brave the elevator. Get in with Tom, introduce yourself as the new kid and say you got lost, and then try to get some flattery in before he can ask any questions about why you were in a senior staff meeting on the morning of your first day.

Or.... this is risky. Very risky. But.... Tom is new. Not to Waystar, but Kendall had said he was managing Resorts South + Central, which means hes' not familiar with the staff in this particular office. You could, theoretically, claim to have been working here for a while. Tell him you're really glad to see him getting promoted, you're excited to work with him, blah blah blah blah blah. Hell, maybe you can get a better title and a raise out of this. Of course, if you get caught, it would be... bad, probably. Quite bad. But, it worked for Pam in The Office. Well.... not this exact thing, but you figure it's the same basic principle.

[disabilityshowdown]

So I am genuinely considering doing a poll with submissions on google forms- And I was wondering how you count the votes? Like- Do you go for each and every one, or is their some sort of sorting system built into forms that collects the same/similar answer?

the answer is kinda yes to both?

admin is something i find relaxing rather than annoying/boring, so i'm going through each response individually because then i make sure i've got all the details and i'm not missing anything (and i'm just using my phone's notes app to tally them up)

but in terms of ways around that - google forms does tally them up for you? it's the second tab under responses, you'll get something like this

though that's not the final totals for any of those characters, because it's just counting answers that are spelled and formatted the exact same way, so you'll find some characters appear in the tallies multiple times under slightly different names

if you click on those blue response numbers, you'll get a tab like this telling you which responses wrote that, where you can click on a number to direct to a specific response and see what that person replied to every question

but honestly i was just finding that more confusing than going through responses individually, so each to their own

(i should also mention i've been running this almost entirely from mobile, so i don't know what it looks like on desktop? but i imagine it should be similar)

what has helped me a lot though, is this option

which pulls up the form in a google sheet (once you link it to the google sheet it will update that file automatically as well as the form, you don't have to keep linking)

and that'll give you every person's submission in its own row, with a column for each individual question

helpful if you need to do quick searches or just see a whole bunch of responses in the right context at once

[arcplaysgames]

["Everything Hits At Once" by Spoon plays muffled in the distance]

Took out Fuckface McGee with my sister so I've almost wrapped up Sojiro's social link. Some social workers came to look into the uncle's claims of abuse, but Reverie and Futaba stood by their dad, and then Sojiro cried because YOU ARE MY DAAAAD, YOURE MY DAD BOOGIE WOOGIE WOOGIE

so happy for the Sakuras, esp Reverie Vantas-Sakura.

hahahha I fucking knew it.

I mean not that it was cleverly hidden but Futaba went back over the data and basically confirmed everythiiiiing. After Kaneshiro, someone hacked the Phansite and inflated the approval rating and rigged the rankings. It was all a ploy to put the Thieves into position to be the fall guys with Okumura.

So as I was saying: Everything is Mishima's fault. How the fuck does the site admin not recognize sloppily hacked-together code that's making changes to the key features? Like, oh my god. Mishima, you're such a fuckup and everything is your fault.

l m a o i do love this moment. No dialogue, just Ryuji realizing he's been fucking played. All the excitement and fame and his insistence that they had to go after Okumura because of the rankings, all of it falls like scales from Ryuji's eyes right here.

ya done fucked up, son

The SIU Director is like. diabolically evil lmao. They don't even try to make him anything but. He's moustache-twirly. I keep rolling my goddamn eyes.

goddamn maruki can you be a little more subtle, like just a big. just a nudge. "YANNO it's okay if your memories are lies so long as they make you happy! 8D!" bruh

Anyway, it's the school festival and the school votes on who they want to be the guest speaker (is that a thing?) and the school overwhelmingly votes for Akechi.

goddamn, the ghost of you fuckin lingers, huh

are you reverie's wife now? wait, no, that's wrong. is reverie your wife now? there, that's better.

So Shido is the big bad, right? Like, he's the guy who framed Reverie in the first place, the symmetry of fiction demands he be the final dude Reverie goes up against (until Maruki finds a way to fucketh everything up). Okumura was going into politics, by removing him, did we remove the only hurdle standing between Shido and being the new PM and he's Super Evil?

What I find slightly frustrating at this point, structurally, is that I have zero idea or indication what the baddies actually want out of this. They are killing people and presumably want to use the Metaverse to control the population, but do they have, like, a guiding philosophy or something? Or is it just power for power's sake, because that's boring.

NO IDEA. We know fuck all!

Is that a lie?

lmao what am i saying, nothing Akechi says is an absolute truth, is it?

It's funny because Akechi is..... extremely good at what he does? Not the detective thing, frankly we've had zero indication of his actual intellectual acumen in that arena. But as a double agent, he could be an Ocelot, frankly.

OH MAN THAT'S WHAT HE REMINDS ME OF, HOLY SHIT. Young Revolver Ocelot, Adamska. Oh yeah that's the vibe. Except with worse fashion and much worse hair. About as homosexual though.

ANYWAY AT THE SCHOOL FESTIVAL, THE GANG IS HANGING OUT ALONE AND AKECHI ROLLS UP AND SAYS THIS

"EVERYONE'S ALL HERE"???? lmao he knows and he isn't even being subtle about it anymore

omg and futaba fucking notices it too LMAO THAT'S GREAT i'm so happy it was intentional phrasing, hahaha that's amazing

Anyway, at the guest speaker panel, Makoto is moderating, and uses the opportunity to press Akechi for info about the case.

omg he's just gonna come out and say it

oh my god yes bitch do it, light the rag and chuck that molotov right into this whole trash fire, it can burn so much faster

THIS FUCKING BITCH

he's not as good as Adachi but I gotta say he's pretty fucking good lmao. Every time there's a Beige Alert, you know things are going to be interesting at least.

But also this is the equivalent to putting a gun to the Thieves' head. Love it.

Never play a player, Makoto.

Anyway with that obviously faked phone call, Akechi calls a 10 minute break and asks to see everyone in a private room where he will humbly serve everyone a helping of their own ass, I assume.