#because I see them out and about all winter

[chaosartic]

Throw away the caution! | LN4

word count: roughly 2k

warnings: overprotective brother Max Fewtrell, mutual pinning (a bit), Oscar is confused most of the time, bad writing (yes it requires a warning)

summary: Lando (annoyingly) has a crush on non other than his best friends younger sister, Y/n Fewtrell. It was his well kept secret. Why? Because he knows how overprotective Max is of you. What happens when Carlos and Oscar find out about it? Will a drunken night out celebrating a race weekend change their relationship?

a/n: Originally this was supposed to be a one shot but I’m turning this into a mini series. They’re probably going to be three parts. Please note that english is not my first language, I’m sorry for any mistakes in advance.

Lando and Max have been through a lot together as long as both of them can remember. And for just as long Lando has known y/n, Max slightly younger sister. What started as a harmless friendship slowly turned into something more, at least in Landos eyes.

It wasn’t until he was a teenager that he admitted his feelings to himself. He kept them hidden and a secret from everyone. At first he thought that they’re just temporary. The girl he used to climb trees with and joke around for hours grew into a beautiful young lady after all. But the feelings only grew stronger.

Lando was well into his twenties when he talked to someone about his crush, it was no other than his friend and ex teammate, Carlos Sainz. At first he tried to talk Lando into admitting his feelings to you but that was without success. Carlos tried to figure out if the feelings are both sided but he simply didn’t see the Fewtrell siblings enough for that.

He was the silent emotional support through everything after that, trying to get them together alone as much as possible without Max noticing. After all, Carlos didn't know how he would react to the news of his childhood friend loving his younger sister. There were a few close calls in the past but as far as anyone was concerned neither Max nor y/n knew about Landos feelings.

If anyone would ask him why he doesn’t confess his answer would probably be along the lines of wanting to concentrate on his career first. In truth he was scared of your rejection and your brother's disappointment. He and Max are friends after all and it might feel like some sort of betrayal to the older Brit.

Lando was currently in London since he had to be back at the MTC for his pre-season training and meetings. He loved being in his home country even if that meant that winter break was over. It means that he gets to spend time with his friends. Like this evening for example.

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You hate being late. It wasn't even your fault that a meeting with your boss ran over the scheduled time or that traffic today was worse than the past few days. You were meeting up with your brother, childhood friend and his teammate. And while Max assured you that your late arrival wouldn’t be a problem, anxiety and guilt still washed over you. You navigate your car without a problem down the familiar street to your brother's appartement. The night was cold but with a clear sky, a rare occurrence.

“You know you don’t have to get me anything when you come around.” Max greets you at the door as soon as he sees the flowers clutched in your hand. “Yeah yeah” you wave him off. The apartment was quiet, too quiet for the normal chaos that erupts when Lando and Max are together.

Max notices your confusion. “They got caught up with work stuff too. That’s why I told you not to worry.” He grabs the flowers ready to put them into an improvised vase while adding, “they should be here any minute though.”

“You could’ve added that little detail in your sentence,” you sternly joke with him. He pulls you into his arms mumbling something about next time he will. You missed this, the familiar feeling of being in your brother's arms. Work has been hell for you recently and you didn't get to spend much time with your family or friends. That’s why you didn't think twice about coming around tonight to spend a relaxing evening with your brother and an old friend of yours, Lando.

Before you could do anything else the doorbell rang, announcing the arrival of the McLaren drivers. “I’ve got it,” you said to Max before walking towards the door. When you opened it, you were a bit surprised when you saw only Oscar standing there. “Hey Oscar. Where is Lando?” you ask him after you let him into the flat. “Oh, he’s still parking the car or something,” Oscar said, “he’ll be here shortly.” You nodded your head at his explanation, softly closing the door behind him. You didn’t lock it though so Lando could get in easier.

Max came out of the kitchen to greet Oscar. While the two aren’t that close they still get along well, spending their evenings occasionally in bigger groups together. The Aussi was quickly accepted into the little group of you three after he joined Lando as his new teammate two years ago. You went back into the kitchen grabbing drinks for everyone while the boys already chatted about racing. The table was set, the ordered food waiting on the counter. There is only one thing missing now.

You still had a slightly anxious feeling that you couldn't shake off. Maybe it was because you would spend the evening in such close proximity to Lando. You haven’t said it to anyone out loud but you knew what the butterflies in your stomach meant. While you didn’t want to admit it to yourself just yet, you couldn’t hide it anymore. You were crushing hard and of course that person has to be your brother’s best friend.

“Hey mate”, Landos voice rans out through the apartment. He came into the kitchen with a wide smile, dimples showing on full display. He quickly pulled each of you into his arms as a greeting. His arms lingered around you for a bit longer, both of you silently enjoying the feeling. “Come on guys, the food is still warm.” Max called out while putting the boxes in the middle of the table. His voice was a bit rougher than usual, almost like he was hiding his emotions. You didn't notice it nor did Lando. Oscar however did notice it and for a millisecond a confused look crossed his face. It was gone before anyone could really notice it.

The four of you sat down at the table, a comfortable silence washing over the room. You sit next to your brother across from Lando. You noticed him looking at you a few times out of the corner of your eye. The butterflies in your stomach were running wild, but you hoped that it didn’t show. As much as you like the idea of being together with the Brit, you knew that it wouldn’t be a good idea. Not only because of his career but also because of your brother. You and Max were close and you know his overprotective sides when it comes to the topic of boys being around you. He was always a bit worried about them, maybe given the fact that he raced professionally. It didn't help that you know most of the formula one grid. He was scared of someone using you for your connections, he would not mention this fear though.

You aren't sure how Max would react to the news of you crushing on his best friend nor did you want to find out anytime soon. You talked about everything over dinner; racing, the upcoming season, video games and just what everybody did during the break. You remembered about a year ago when you were all sitting at the same table. Oscar was still new to the group and quite shy, but he opened up which was good to see.

“All right, how about we talk about something different than just racing,” you said. “Not everybody’s life depends on it.” You jokingly added, knowing that the boys love nothing more than to talk about it, especially when they were off for a few weeks. At some point the conversation shifts, now the talk was all about. testing and the upcoming season. “I have a question guys,” Lando suddenly said. His cheeks are a bit pink, unusually so. Your eyes looked over to Oscar slightly, he looked just as confused as you felt. It almost seems like Lando was shy about something perhaps not knowing what to do with the situation. “Do you have anything planned during the weekend when the season starts?” He finally blurted out after a longer pause.

“Not that I could think of,” you replied, looking at your brother. He also shook his head no. “Why do you ask?” “How about you come to watch it?” It was actually Oscar who voiced the question, his eyes always flickering up to you. It was almost like he was saving Lando from something, maybe embarrassment. “For sure,” Max answered quickly, not having to really think about it. The three men turn their heads to you waiting for your answer. “I’m not sure if I can get time off,” you said. “And also don’t exactly have the money for this trip.” You said shyly.

“Sweetheart, do you really think you have to pay?” Lando asked. You look at him shocked, did he really just say that? “I got it covered. Don’t worry about that.” He added quickly. Maybe it was your imagination, but he looked a bit embarrassed about saying it. Max looked at his best friend, confusion all over his features, shaking his head as if he was having a silent conversation with himself.

“Please y/n, it would mean the world for both of us,” Lando added, pointing at him and Oscar. He was almost begging at this point. You didn’t know why it was so important for him to have you there. A small part if you wanted to believe that it is because he also had a crush on you. But honestly those were unrealistic expectations. No, Lando could never have a crush on you. That’s for sure.

“Okay okay,” you gave in with a small smile. “I’ll see if I can get a few days off so I can join you in Australia,”you said. You see from the corner of your eyes that your brother has a sour look on his face again. An uneasy feeling settles in your stomach. ”Well, I don’t know about you guys, but I’m done.“ You try to ignore the look on Maxs face by changing the topic.You took both plates and put them into the dishwasher. You miss the way Oscar looks at both Max and Lando. Ever since this conversation started he has had a slightly confused look on his face, not that you noticed.

It was only a few days after that night when your request for the time off was accepted. That night you spend an hour or maybe two on FaceTime with Lando. He was back in Monaco preparing for the testing in Bahrain. It may have been a few days since that call but you can still see the way he smiled when you shared the news. It was one of the best things ever.

You already talked with Max about when you were leaving to Down Under. While you were more than excited to be in the paddock, see the race and talk to some of the drivers that you know, you couldn’t shake off this weird feeling in the pit of your stomach. It felt like this little trip would change everything but you weren’t sure why. Maybe it was because recently you and Lando have talked almost every night, intensifying your crush on the curly haired man. And even though you were nervous you couldn’t wait to see him in person again in Australia.

part 2 (coming soon)

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I hope you enjoy it! Any feedback is appreciated!

Requests are open! Want to be added to the taglist? Feel free to reach out.

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 the smell of snow : remus lupin

▰▰ pairing: remus lupin x fem!reader.

When she suddenly gets a familiar smell while sleeping, she wakes Remus to enjoy the first day of snow.

totally inspired by lorelai and luke from gilmore girls, this scene especifically.

mari talks! i want to make a lorelai!reader x remus series so bad help me.

She has become used to falling asleep on Remus' bed, the only moment of the day where her energy starts lacking is when the moon hangs high in the sky and her boyfriend's arms wrap around her. In contrast to her usually cheerful way to be, she's peaceful and quiet when she's sleeping.

Ninety nine percent of the time, anyways, because that one percent is about to make its first appearance of the year.

At first, she only takes a deep breath as she rolls around in the mattress. But then, realization hits her— the air smells different. Her eyes immediately open and she starts sniffing, wanting to be sure before she turns to Remus.

He's peacefully sleeping too, at least until she rolls on top of him and starts shaking his arm. "Rem." she calls him, at least somewhat softly through her sudden desperation. "Come on, wake up."

He grunts and tries to roll from under her, still deep in his slumber. "Rem, we're missing it." she tries again, this time shaking his shoulder with a little more strength

"Sleep? yes, i'm aware." he mumbles, his voice rough and tired.

He makes a big mistake by replying to her, because she only grows even more relentless, now she stands up and pulls her boyfriend's arm. Remus might be stronger than her usually, but right now she's on a mission.

One last tug, and he's almost falling out of the bed, his eyes finally opening because he's accepted his girlfriend is not going to stop until she gets whatever she wants right now. Accepting his fate, he finally stands from the bed, once again almost falling since the sheets were all tangled in his legs.

He barely manages to put on his shoes before she's dragging him out of the room, as they pass his fellow marauders, he's a little envious of the way they're still peacefully sleeping.

"Where are we going?" he mumbles, slurring his words, his feet stumbling over the stairs.

Her lack of answer would be concerning for Remus if he wasn't half-asleep and busy mumbling grumpily under his breath. Yet, he still follows her or more like allows her to drag him out of the gryffindor tower.

Thankfully, it's far too late for any professor to be patrolling around the halls so they walk through the castle without any problem except for the angry paintings complaining about being awaken. Remus can understand them completely.

"Almost there." she tells him, finally speaking as she runs out of the castle, pulling him with her into the quidditch field.

Remus must still be sleeping, or he's simply confused, because she suddenly stops and looks around in wonder but he can't see anything different about the quidditch field. He even blinks and rubs his eyes, but there’s nothing.

"I'm freezing" he says, wrapping his free arm around his body, how is she not feeling cold? she didn’t even took the time to put on a jumper. "why are we out here?"

"Smell the air." she tells him suddenly, taking a deep breath herself and smiling brightly.

Remus blinks at her, confused, but he still sniffs skeptically. "smells like... air?"

"No, silly!" She laughs, as if Remus just told her a really good joke. "Smells like snow is coming."

Yes, his girlfriend has gone mad. He expected he would have a long time before he had to get her admitted into St. Mungo's. Was it the ball Sirius threw at her head yesterday? Godric, Remus had told them both it wasn't safe to be playing like that, and did they listen to him? of course not.

"What? You can't possibly know that" he tells her, already making up his mind to go and wake Sirius up so he would see the damage he has done. "Forecast said there would not be snow this winter."

"I smell snow." she tells him again, looking up at the sky as if she's actually expecting snow to start falling. And then, the rambling starts. "I love snow, we can make a snow-man or even better a snow-woman! with painted lips and a cute scarf. I love snowy days in with a cup of hot cocoa, and I love winter outfits! oh, we can go sledding and ice skating!"

As grumpy as Remus is, she always finds a way to ease into him. Of course she does. "That sounds great, sweetheart." he replies, not daring to tell her that he hates snow. "But there’s no snow coming, in the Daily Prophet they said—"

Remus' sentence is cut short when snow actually starts falling, flakes falling from the sky slowly covering the quidditch field. "Fuck the Daily Prophet anyways." he says.

it's not like she's paying him any attention, because she's already smiling and giggling as the snow fall all around them. "Welcome, friends." She mumbles, tilting her head back so the snowflakes fall into her face.

Remus is freezing, like already trembling, but she doesn’t look bothered by the cold at all. And she looks beautiful, that one Remus has to admit. She looks so happy, her smile almost glowing under the dark of the night as she spins around the quidditch field.

"Let's make snow angels!" And that's what pulls Remus out of his trance, before she can drop to the ground, he takes her hand and pulls her in.

He raises his eyebrow at her. "Absolutely not. You're in your pyjamas, time to go inside." He tells her, matter of factly, his serious gaze not even wavering when she gives him a puppy eye look in return— yes, she's cute, but Remus cares more about her safety right now.

"You're no fun, Rem." She pouts at him when she knows he won't budge, but just like the way she brought him here, she allows him to pull her inside the castle.

Now she has started shivering, and Remus notices as he pulls her close to his side, wrapping his arm around her shoulders in an attempt to keep her warm, which is not very useful considering he's also cold.

He presses a kiss against her temple as they walk through the hallways, once again bothering the paintings around them. "We have a full snow day tomorrow, when we're properly dressed up for the cold, deal?"

She nods, and with the way the smile goes back to her face, Remus thinks that maybe he doesn’t hate the snow that much after all.

[eocon-fr]

ᯓ translation of Esteban Ocon interview for GQ France

Esteban Ocon the humble formula.

Formula 1 is experiencing a new era, propelled by a growing media hype and a generation of talented drivers. Among them, Esteban Ocon, the new face of the Haas team whose transfer caused a stir this winter. An outstanding competitor who, far from the limelight and the spotlight, favours work and determination to impose himself on the track.

A page has turned for Esteban Ocon this winter. After five seasons defending the colours of Renault and then Alpine, the driver has joined the American team Haas. As is often the case in the merciless world of F1, his transfer was accompanied by its share of feelings, misunderstandings, rumours, and sensational statements. The complicated season of the 28-year-old Frenchman, embellished by an unexpected second place at the Brazilian Grand Prix in early November, ended with an absence that caused a great deal of noise. During the final race of the year in Abu Dhabi, Alpine had indeed lined up its young reserve Australian Jack Doohan alongside Pierre Gasly, reserving Esteban Ocon a back door exit, after 106 Grand Prix contested under the colours of the French team.

But the Norman has seen others during his nine years behind a Formula 1 steering wheel. The real positive change - which he has been able to observe - is the explosion in the popularity of his sport, notably thanks to the Netflix documentary Drive to Survive and especially to the acquisition of F1 by Liberty Media.

"When I arrived in Formula 1 in 2016, I remember the holes in the stands in Austin. The first corner was not complete, he describes. This sport has never been so worked now, and to experience that as a driver is very special. It’s a crazy thing to arrive on the Fan Forum [a stage where drivers are invited for discussions or games on the sidelines of the Grands Prix] and to see a crowd of 80,000 people, you feel like a rock star."

The downside of this medal is constant media noise and vocal fans who exacerbate rivalries and forge reputations that are difficult to change. Type the name of the new Haas driver into YouTube, and you will quickly come across a video called "Why is it so hard to like Esteban Ocon?"

"There is always information that is distorted or taken out of context that will come out, and people who don't understand everything and are quick to criticize, the driver puts it into perspective. But to get back to Netflix, it can't be bad publicity to be [in this series] because it highlights the sport that I've always loved. Even if it's become more of a business than a sport."

I ask him if that hasn't always been the case.

"It's true that watching documentaries and series about Ayrton Senna, James Hunt, or Niki Lauda, ​​you understand that business and politics have always been part of this sport. But I think we've moved to another level. Some drivers cope with it better than others. For me, the important thing is to see who stands out and who does a good qualifying lap in difficult conditions."

The headlines in the press and the buzz on social networks, the stories of drivers who go from heroes to zeros in the space of a race, Esteban Ocon prefers to distance himself from them.

"I understand that it makes the fans react, but it doesn't fascinate me at all," he admits. "I've learned to stay vigilant and know how to anticipate." That's all you ask of an F1 driver, after all."

A turning point in his career

Moreover, a week after his sad deal at Alpine, as the end-of-year holidays approached, the driver seemed to have already digested the episode. He was impatient to begin a new adventure but also to spend time with his family in Normandy.

"We had reached the end of the story with Alpine, and I can't wait to embark on a new challenge with a team that soared last year. I have grown from this period, and I am proud to have brought home the team's best results since my return to Formula 1 in 2016," said the winner of the Hungarian Grand Prix in 2021. "I obviously regret not having been able to fight more often for better positions over the years, and it is obviously not the ending I would have wanted. But it ended like that. One thing is for sure: it was the right time for a renewal."

We discussed his development since his F1 debut almost ten years ago. In 2016, Esteban Ocon became the youngest French driver in history to compete in a Grand Prix. He was barely 20 years old and was racing for the Manor team. After a season at Force India and a spell at Racing Point, the young driver joined Renault in 2020, where he obtained his first podium in Bahrain. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then, but Esteban Ocon claims to have always followed the same mantra: getting out of his comfort zone. I ask him if a driver must necessarily change teams at some point to continue his progression. Does love last three years in F1?

"When you have a team and a car that win, there is no reason to change," he smiles.

While the media and social networks have reveled in the supposed tensions between the Alpine team and Esteban Ocon in recent months, and have serialized his rivalry with his teammate Pierre Gasly, the 28-year-old driver assures that his departure is due to a single desire: to embark on a new and exciting project to rediscover the pleasure on the track. But it is also a question of human relationships and trust. At Haas, Esteban Ocon will indeed be reunited with Ayao Komatsu, his very first F1 race engineer, who became the principal of the American team, who joined the paddock in 2016.

"He is not the type to make promises without having a plan to keep them. He explained to me his vision of things and the progress he envisaged for the team. As the races went on, I saw that these were not empty words, as there can be many in motorsport."

Haas went from tenth and last place in the constructors' standings in 2023 to seventh position in 2024. Last year, the team extended its collaboration with Ferrari for the engines and also formed a new technical partnership with Toyota. That said, Esteban Ocon knows that his mission does not look easy.

"We're going to have a lot of work both [with the young British driver Oliver Bearman]. We have a huge project on the simulator that is not up to par, for example. It's a fairly young team that needs drivers who are 100% involved. It's a great project," he enthuses.

To build strong ties with his new team this winter, and to put all the chances on his side, the Frenchman explains to me that the engineers from the Haas team will spend time with him near Annecy, at 321 perform, a center specializing in high-level sport, and in particular stress management. The goal of this course is to establish psychological profiles. In concrete terms, it involves putting each member of the group in stressful situations. The psychologists or the coach ask very tough and very personal questions, without the answers being revealed to the group. A collective debriefing then takes place. The goal: to observe each person's reactions and give them the keys to manage the pressure and the inevitable moments of tension.

"A drama teacher will also intervene, and I think it will be a shock for the new engineers. The team boss Ayao [Komatsu] will come too, but we're going to spare him, Esteban Ocon laughs. During these kinds of sessions, we break down all the barriers, and it leads to the most embarrassing situations. I hope none of these exercises come out!" Imagine role playing, singing, shouting. He gets serious again: "We're going to experience difficult moments during the season, and we have to be able to tell each other everything. It's super important to create a bond as soon as possible and for them to be able to see the submerged part of the iceberg of a driver's life. It's not just arriving at the circuit and putting on your suit."

Championing your bridle and learning from your mistakes

Sometimes, being an F1 driver means forcing yourself to stay up until the early hours of the morning. While Esteban Ocon poses in front of our photographer's lens with more ease than you would have thought, as comfortable in a full denim look as in a leather jacket, his partner Flavy Barla talks to me about the end of the 2024 season and how she supports him. About ten days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix at the end of November, the couple, for example, switched to the Nevada time zone... from Europe.

"We went to bed around 5 or 6 a.m. and went up around 3 or 4 p.m. These moments are difficult because we live completely out of step with the whole world, but it helps me a lot once I'm there, Esteban Ocon puts it into perspective. The life of a driver doesn't leave room for compromise, and everything I do on a daily basis is with a view to the car race. It's when you've prepared the best that you get the best grades."

In this respect, years of experience pay off. Because Esteban Ocon hasn't always been so ready. The former Alpine driver remembers a particularly difficult race during his first season because he had shifted his sleep by four hours... in the wrong direction.

"When I arrived, I was upside down," he jokes today, specifying that his coach Tom Clark, a jet-lag specialist, now concocts a specific program for him based on melatonin and blackouts glasses. Not very sexy, but effective.

"All this means that I am often tired between races, but in good shape in the moments that count. Each season, with my team, we put something more in place in my preparation, to perform better throughout the year", the Frenchman emphasizes.

What did he learn last year?

"At the end of the season, I was working in the heat to prepare for races like Singapore", he tells me, describing hellish one-and-a-half-hour rowing or cycling sessions in the sauna. "But it was cold in Qatar this year! It was the hardest race in history. I was cold in the car. Now, I know that the only race to prepare for the heat is Singapore."

At the beginning of October 2023, the drivers suffered from the heat in Doha (up to 40 degrees), and Esteban Ocon even threw up in his helmet during the race. The Emirati GP is now taking place a few weeks later to avoid these mishaps. Since his first steps in F1, Esteban Ocon has seen the calendar change and new urban circuits (Las Vegas, Miami) and other destinations (the Losail circuit in Qatar and the Jeddah circuit in Saudi Arabia) appear. 21 Grands Prix were contested in 2016 compared to 24 today, and this change of schedule inevitably affects the pace of training and life of the drivers.

"Ideally, I should already be starting my physical preparation [the interview was conducted on December 14]. But we have less and less time off-season to really develop the physical part. So you have to be very efficient and assiduous during these times to build up your health and energy capital for the whole year."

On the program are full days of training with lots of cardio and muscle strengthening, and meals every two hours.

"It's important to have endurance and mass at the start of the season because racing dries you out a lot."

Despite these new constraints and all the work that awaits him at Haas, Esteban Ocon seems to have put all the chances on his side to bounce back in 2025 and beyond.

[sngj08]

[Not so Quiet Boy] Sunghoon x fem!reader

summary: your friend tries to set you up with an old acquaintance of yours in hopes to get him a girlfriend by the end of his senior year

genre: crush to friends, friends to lovers, crush to lovers, high school romance, after school and outside of school hangouts, mixed signals, friends playing cupid, friends not saying everything, obvious flirting but protagonist doesn't see,

warning: profanity, mentions slight h@r@ssment

author's note: all of this is from true experience and none of them were altered besides names.

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Chapter 6: Smells Like Strawberries

“Oh ok ok.” Without thinking of anything else, you followed Jennie until she nudged you while raising her brow, making you chuckle. “What?” Jennie's face went into a ‘What do you mean what’ face. “You and Sunghoon?” She hinted out but you didn’t understand. “Yeah what about me and Sunghoon?”

She looked at you in disbelief. “He was holding your hand and he looked at you with that face! He lent you his chair?! And you can’t ignore how he asked if you were ok after the Increadicoaster when you weren’t speaking? Elisa also told me about how he didn’t complain about your screaming when you guys went to the Incredicoaster again?!” She said as if stating the obvious. “Yeah no. He’s just being friendly.” You chuckled back at her statements, not really thinking about it. 

“Yn, are you going to order anything?” Elisa said as you guys arrived at the ordering window. “Oh yeah me and Yn will just share. The bowl might be big.” Winter explains to Elisa as you nod in agreement. As they gave the tray of bowls to Winter and Elisa, Winter exclaims. “Yn, I think you should buy one more bowl for you.” She says, probably changing her mind because she thinks of finishing the bowl. You didn’t want to eat but to still fill your stomach so you just bought a drink and went back to the table. “Why didn’t you buy yourself a bowl? Are you really not eating anything?” Winter said in concern as you nodded with a smile. “It’s fine. I’m not that hungry anymore.” You told them but Winter shook her head. “Didn’t you say you were hungry earlier?” Winter said, making you mentally smack your head but then you see Sunghoon stand up which made everyone look at him. “I’m buying a bread bowl.” He plainly said before holding your arm and pulling you with him.

“Sunghoon, I’m fine. I don’t need the food.” You said to him while you guys were walking to the store. “Yeah I know. I’m buying myself a bread bowl.” He said, still holding your arm. “Yeah but why do I need to join you in buying the bread bowl again?” You said trying not to think you were being self centered or thinking he would buy you food. “You seemed to be the only one not busy.” He shrugged as you guys started lining up. “Wait. This place sells pretzels shaped like Mickey Mouse?!” You realized as you looked at the menu, jumping up and down in excitement to see them make it behind the counter until you realized he was still holding your arm. You turned your head to look at him, to see him looking at you.

“Next!” The lady at the counter said as he let go of your arm, you guys went up to the counter while you looked at the people making the pretzels. “1 pretzel please.” He said to the cashier, which made you look at him in disbelief but you see him taking the pretzel with a smile then he looks at you. “Let’s go?” He offered as you both left the store. “How about the bread bowl?” You looked at him concerned but he shrugged as he led you to the side of the exit that had a small roof for the both of you not to get soaked in the rain.

He didn’t reply to you and was about to bite the pretzel but you stopped him. “Wait, can I take a picture of the pretzel?” You said while holding his hands to prevent him from biting it. As he gave you the pretzel while chuckling, you took the pretzel and took pictures with it. As you were going to give it back to him, he shook his head and refused to get the pretzel from you. “I’m done taking pictures. I’m sorry I took it.”  You said to him while trying to shove the cookie in his hand. “Just eat it Yn.” He chuckled at you but you still tried shoving the pretzel at him. “Stop Yn. You’ll drop the pretzel.” He said jokingly which did make you stop in imagining if the pretzel did fall, it would be devastating for Mickey shaped pretzel. “Open up!” He said as you saw a piece of the pretzel in his hand, trying to feed you himself the pretzel because you won’t eat it. 

After a few moments of hesitation, you open your mouth and eat the pretzel. “Yeah, eat some yourself.” You said as you take a piece of the pretzel and wait for him to give you his hand. And after a few munchings, you guys went back to the table empty handed. “You guys were so long. Was the line long? Where’s the bread bowl?” Winter asked as Elisa and Jennie looked at you with a cheeky gaze you wanted to wipe off their faces. “Yeah the line was too long so we ended up leaving because you guys might be done eating.” Sunghoon explained to the others. “So where next?” Sunghoon said, trying to change the subject. “I know there is this one toy story ride by the pier that’s fun.” Winter said, making you all nod and went on the ride.

While on the ride, you were beside Elisa and Jennie as Winter wanted to be beside another friend that tagged along and Sunghoon. “So where are you guys making out?” Elisa asked jokingly while you pushed her. “They might hear Elisa!” You whisper shouted to her, reminding her that they were sitting behind them. “And no we didn’t.” You replied to her when Jennie and Elisa nudged you playfully. “I don’t have a crush on him guys.” You said which Jennie replied. “Wait, you don’t like him anymore?” And you realized what she said, you looked at Elisa. “Wait, you told Jennie I had a crush on him?!” You said to Elisa mouthing a sorry while shrugging her shoulders. “No to be honest I thought you and Sunghoon were a thing.” You said, talking about Jennie and Sunghoon which made Jennie make a disgusted face. “I already have a man.” She said, making you and Elisa surprised. “You’re taken?!” Elisa said in shock. “Yeah, this is my boyfriend’s jacket.” Saying proof to you two.

As the ride was done, you needed to return glasses but you were lowkey dizzy after the ride while still trying to tip-toe due to the floor being wet, and didn't want your pants dirty. You remove your glasses but then slip when you try to drop it onto the tin, Sunghoon holds you again before you hit the floor. “Do you need help going down the stairs?” He said as you laughed in response, holding the railing while going down the stairs.

As you go downstairs, you see the gift shop and you see a Lotso plush. With excitement, you run to it and start hugging it. “Guys, look!” You said with excitement to your friends, Jennie and Elisa all went and hugged a plush from the shelf. “They’re weighted!” Jennie said out of curiosity, you smelled Lotso and he did smell like strawberries. “He smells like strawberries!” You said to your friends while still hugging the plushie, you look at the price… 50 bucks?!! You slowly place the plush back in order to not get emotionally attached to the plush because it was way overpriced for a weighted plushy. You guys were about to leave the store when you saw Sunghoon holding the plush and was about to walk to the counter but you stopped him by calling him. “Sunghoon, Where are you going?” You said making him turn around to you guys, placing the plushie down on the shelf to leave with you guys.

The next ride you guys decided to go was the Spiderman ride. It was somewhat a long line so you guys went on the single rider lane to fasten the pace. So no surprise, you got separated with your friends but the ride malfunctioned and shut down. You were stuck in the middle spiderman ride and emergency lights were on. Bumped out, you were not able to see the World of Colors but you got distracted by an old guy slowly touching you weirdly and started recording you. Slowly you were escorted out the vehicle and reunited with your friends in front of the line but from the corner of your eye, you could see the guy recording you. 

You tell your friends what happened but didn’t tell them he was still recording you. “What the hell? That’s disgusting. Are you ok?” Elisa said to you then Sunghoon held you by your waist and pulled you behind so that you could be blocked by the guy.

“Thanks.” You said that only Sunghoon could hear. “Are you ok? Did he do anything else to you? Do you want me to be beside you during the ride” He asked you while facing you with a hint of worry in his eyes, holding both of your hands, to which you replied. “I’m ok. He didn’t do anything else and yeah can we sit beside each other.” You looked at him but then shyly looked away. He held your hand until you guys got on the ride.

As you guys leave the building of the ride, you guys walk to the Avengers sign. “Do you guys wanna take a picture?” He asked the group but he just looked at you but you shrugged it off as everyone nodded in agreement. “Can I have a solo?” Jennie said, making everyone chuckle at her maintained energy throughout the day. We took a photo of Jennie first by herself and we took one more group selfie until a cast member went up to us to take our photo with the professional camera he was holding. “I can take a picture on your phone too if you want.” The cast member said as Sunghoon gave his phone to the cast member and took another photo. He gave the phone back and Sunghoon and you sent the photos to the group chat. Both from the professional camera and his phone.

“Woah Yn, you look so pretty in the professional camera ones!” Winter and Elisa pointed out to you as you zoomed in on yourself. “Yeah it looks like you came out of a kdrama.” Jennie said in agreement. “Yeah and the fact it was a professional camera, it has high quality so you’re just pretty like that omg!” Winter hyped you up as you gave a slight smile. “You guys also look great in the pictures.” You said in response, hoping that they would appreciate it as much as they hyped you up. 

taglist: (open) @enhacolor @beigerin @tasnemluvs @parkjjongswifey

[dr-spectre]

I heard about how in Bancala Walker there was a short story about Marina and Acht and their time in the domes. And I'm gonna be 100% honest with you. It kinda makes me mad, and it really highlights a massive problem with Splatoon as a whole, and that's how it treats its stories.

(Yep I'm rambling about Splatoon's storytelling for the 500th time, welcome to my blog.)

Since Splatoon 2, the series has had a weird relationship with its storytelling, the main stories of each campaign are very simplistic and are very video game like plots. "Go get the Great Zapfish back and save Captain Cuttlefish. Go get the Great Zapfish again and find Callie. Find the thangs and get out. GO GET THE ZAPFISH AGAIN AND SAVE CAPTAIN CUTTLEFISH AGAIN!!! Climb up the tower." Splatoon 1 got away with this because it's clearly the most "tutorial" mode out of any of the single player campaigns and it doesn't really try to say any deeper messages or express a character arc.

Now, obviously video game stories must have goals for the player to work towards, I'm not complaining about that, you gotta have that stuff in games to motivate the player, however, what really drives me up a wall is when they decide to add depth and interesting things relating to the characters and world, yet they intentionally throw away that same depth and chuck it to the side. Hell they sometimes retcon the optional hard to find lore or make it more confusing just because!! If you're gonna add depth and something else to these stories, you HAVE to actually explore it and expand upon it WITHIN THE STORY! You cannot add it as "extra lore" when it's stuff that should have been in the main storyline to begin with. It's like not adding seasoning to chicken and that you boiled the fucking chicken and wrapped it in lettuce and mayonnaise.

I could obviously talk about the elephant in the room... you know... this little goober right here. This freak.

And I'm going to.

From the concept art we were given, we know that Callie was originally gonna have more exploration into her troubling mental health issues as seen by her being in the shadows and being comforted by Octarians. It's a significantly different tone compared to the final product.

However in the final game, they tossed MOST of this shit away and say in the game as well as in official media, "naw she was kidnapped and brainwashed forcefully because she's a dumb clutz lmao." They tried to backtrack with an obscure relationship chart, the sunken scrolls and Squid Sisters web prequel series, but then they backtracked AGAIN with the Splatoon 3 artbook that states that she was "brainwashed." It's an incredibly simplified and frankly insulting version of events that are TECHNICALLY canon but Nintendo and others don't treat it as such and i don't know why. I dont know why they treat Callie like this. Is it because she's silly?

Wouldn't it be more interesting and more powerful as a story if they made Callie had more control and awareness of her actions? That she was truly acting upon her mental illness and isolation? Putting DJ Octavio, the fucking funny octopus guy on the same level as Talon from Overwatch and Hydra from Marvel, the literal nazis who damaged Bucky Barnes' brain and removed all of his memories, making him into the Winter Solider, is fucking psychotic and actually insane of Nintendo to do.

There is also Acht and how they were shown between Octo Expansion and Side Order.

Some of the most powerful stories in media have strong character arcs and characters overcoming their struggles and pain. It is inspirating and incredibly real to see a loved one reach out to a person that they care about who have lost their way, either from mental illness or drugs. Trying to bring them back and help them go through their pain together. When someone is under distress and mental health troubles, they can act like a completely different person and the fact that Nintendo half assed serious topics like this and made shit WAY WORSE boils my blood to no end.

In Octo Expansion, we were told that they went under Sanitization willingly in order to remove doubts in their mind and put their all into music. Now due to the unknowns of Sanitization at the time, this made for a really interesting character and brought up a lot of interesting questions as to why they would do this and who they are.

However, in Side Order when they explained Sanitization further and told us that Acht lost all of their free will and were FORCED to make music for Tartar, it kinda damaged their story a little bit. Like sure, Acht still probably wanted to go under Sanitization to clear their doubts and remove emotion, but the added information kinda goes against the interesting story they were trying to tell with Acht. Acht doesn't even mention why they went under Sanitization in Side Order and their reasoning is only found IN A SOCIAL MEDIA POST BACK IN 2018!!! THEY DON'T RESTATE IT AT ALL WHEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN IMPORTANT TO DO SO! They kinda tell us via their letters, but guess when you get those, IN THE POST GAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!

This leads me to another big talking point, most of the lore is hidden and hard to find. You have to go out of your way to find most of the shit Splatoon has to offer. Sunken Scrolls are hidden collectables and most people don't wanna go through the effort of finding them all in the stages, the chat logs in Octo Expansion are completely optional due to entries being tied to specific stations and you can choose to easily skip them, the dev diaries are locked behind lockers and some people may complete Side Order in a manner where they can get to the final boss and be done with the main campaign before seeing most of the entries. Now I'm not saying that there cannot be extra lore tidbits for players to find, hell no, i love extra stuff like that, i think Splatoon 1 and 3's hero modes did a really job of that. BUT WHEN YOU HIDE AWAY IMPORTANT DETAILS LIKE CALLIE'S MOTIVATION IN SPLATOON 2 AND MARINA'S AND PEARL'S BACKSTORIES!?!? YEAH I GOT A FUCKING PROBLEM RIGHT THERE!

In other games, these would be cutscenes or a bunch of mandatory dialogue, BUT NOPE! THEY ARE IN HARD TO FIND SPOTS!

Some of the other lore details are found on social media posts and some of them are YEARS old or on Splatoon's dead Tumblr account. Most people would rather go to Inkipedia and even they can sometimes make vital mistakes or have wording that gives people the wrong idea on what happened in particular events, which heavily impacts the community and discussion. When i talk about my perspective on what happened to Callie in Splatoon 2, I've seen people say to me "wait really? Huh?! I didn't know that." The amount of research you gotta do to go into these characters is an absolute nightmare, AND DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON THE SPLATBANDS!!! Their lore is literally locked behind Japanese exclusive expensive artbooks!!! WHY?!?!

I really do wanna stress again, is it cool to get cool lore outside of the games and as collectables?! ABSOLUTELY! You know how awesome it was to read the Alterna logs for the first time? The smile on my face seeing Pearl and Marina back in the Final Fest in Side Order. But when the main stories suffer because of important information being tossed to the side and not applied to the main games... I dont know man, it just becomes incredibly frustrating to me personally. Especially with all the misconceptions and other things that occur within the community, the fandom has an information problem and honestly, it's Nintendo's fault. Imagine if Side Order had flashbacks to a younger Marina and Acht, it would have helped with the middle chunk of the story being so... nothing.

[39nyx]

"Winter Soldier" Nico di Angelo AU concept

pretty freshly thought up, definitely still needs brewing.

also because i'm a couple MCU movies away from actually watching CA:TWS which will definitely help me flesh this out LMFAO. I've read The Winter Soldier: Cold Front at least, I'm not totally going off nothing

I've had a semi-similar AU brewing in my head for, like, a year before I started getting into Marvel and realized it lowkey matched MCU Stucky's dynamic, so I decided to fully embrace the coincidence and give Nico more trauma and a fucked-up arm :D

Background:

Nico actually ends up fading into shadows during the events of Blood of Olympus/excessive shadow-travel.

Since he hadn't died traditionally, he's essentially locked out of his father's realm of power, unable to have his soul return to the Underworld, instead being lost to the darkness.

That is, if not for Nyx* (or someone under her authority) who manages to collect the remnants of his being and reconstitute his physical form.

Except, there's not enough of him left to reform his entire body, so they have to sacrifice his arm, creating a new, magical one out of bones and shadow (details in image)

With the memories of his life lost to the shadows, he now serves as Nyx's own "Child of Darkness" (or something), his body/soul now bound to her.

*I do, unfortunately, kind of hate The Sun and the Star, but it had the perfect concept to draw on for this, what with Nyx being a big bad and wanting Nico to stay in the darkness and all that. So that's kind of what I'm drawing on for this :'D but the book itself isn't canon to this AU's timeline

Since Nico's body is now reformed from the shadows, he can shadow travel with no repercussions ! He gains a lot more control over shadows/darkness in general, as he's working under Nyx.

I'd also imagine, with his memories gone and Nyx making him believe he's fully her child (or something along those lines), he doesn't actually know he has most of his Hades-kid-specific powers (geokinesis, necromancy, and the like. He doesn't think too hard about why he's able to control the bones in his shadow arm. Or he does, and he just gets reset-) Of course, he still has the subconscious effects of his powers, but his emotions usually aren't dysregulated enough for him to actually experience them. (you know... until they are...~drama~)

As far as further plot goes, I'm personally a Jasico shipper, this was originally a Jasico AU for me, and Jason also makes the most sense, uh, assassination-mission wise (and Steve Rogers parallel-wise lol). With some canon-tweaking.

Why does Nyx even want Nico to kill the main big threat demigods? Idk yet exactly! We'll get there! In a perfect world I would be able to turn this into a novel-length fanfiction but god am I bad at actually going through with projects. There will definitely at least be more of this random concept brainstorming, though, especially when I finish more of the movies >:3

Alsooo regarding his design, it was mostly to brainstorm his arm. I probably could've thought of something creative outfit-wise. But it's the PJO universe, it's not like I can really have him decked out Winter Soldier style, pretty much all anyone wears is an orange/purple T-shirt n jeans. Maybe some armor. Which I theoretically should have given him. But there's the angle of him being able to dissolve into shadows before you can even get a hit in, thus rendering armor unnecessary... and also the idea of him blending in as a normal person until you do a double-take and see shadows creeping up his neck, slowly growing to cover his face before he attacks. Possibilities! Mostly I just like Nico in the usual oversized jacket + skinny jeans, but I gotta think on this whole thing a lot more still LOL

[tarotbyjam24]

Describing you through poems

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

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Pile 1 pile 2 pile 3

Pile 1

A WALK

A meadow smiling in the sun,

Cows knee cleep in the stream, An elm tree waving in the wind, A silvery birch's gleam, A long white road, a rustic bridge, A brooklet gliding through, And with the sunlight on Your hair, Coming toward me-You.

DEATH

By Clarence E. Flynn

WHY do you fear me? I am your friend.

I but guide trav'lers Rounding the bend-Lead them to freedom From time and age, Help them start writing On a new page....

Seek for me never, Keep your course true-When I am needed In come to you, Then I will show you Roads without end-Why do you fear me? I am your friend.

Pile 2

i write when

i write when my heart gets too heavy to hold i write about my scars new and old. i write when i have a lot to share, but to hear it out, no one has time to spare. i write when i feel as lonely as one could be, when not tears, but the well dressed smile is what one could see.

i write when thoughts in my

mind begin to sink.

i write to share whatever i think.

i write, not with thr desire of being known, but to know the voice within my soul.

~bhoomika

I Sit Beside The Fire and Think by JRR Tolkien

I sit beside the fire and think Of all that I have seen Of meadow flowers and butterflies In summers that have been

Of yellow leaves and gossamer In autumns that there were With morning mist and silver sun And wind upon my hair

I sit beside the fire and think Of how the world will be When winter comes without a spring That I shall ever see

For still there are so many things That I have never seen In every wood in every spring There is a different green

I sit beside the fire and think Of people long ago And people that will see a world That I shall never know

But all the while I sit and think Of times there were before I listen for returning feet And voices at the door

Pile 3

Beauty

I like simple pleasures, Like wet hair & Clean sheets.. Pomegranate sourness, & the sweetness of ripe peach..

I like contradictions, Like rainbows after rain.. The glittering eyes of happiness, after days of pain..

A cup of hot tea, during a storm.. Living wildly and out of the norm.. I like good hearts, good art, the warmth of the sun.. The days you gave your self power, When you had none..

I like solitude, serenity, The thoughts in my mind.. And how in every tragic thing, Beauty I can find..

-Alethea Spark

Each of us are given a white canvas Some may be smaller than others. But the fact remains that it is pure, With not a single drop of colour.

As the days go by, the amount of strokes grow, With different colours and shapes. Some may be sharp and jagged And others smooth and clean.

You cant erase it or start over, But you can always cover it with a better strokes. You may even give up and want to stop at times, But you keep trying so desperately

And in the end, you can step back and look at what you have created And see that it was beautiful all along.

A masterpiece painted by you.

- C.

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem ✨

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Six: no good deed ever goes unpunished

tw: violence, non-con

Small chunks of salt stick to the tips of Simon’s fingers, dusting them like fresh snow. You were right—a simple order of chips really isn’t enough to keep him going throughout the night. 

If anything, the saltiness makes him hungrier. It pummels his stomach until it’s grumbling at an annoying frequency, and it doesn’t do much to help the dryness in his mouth either. He would have tried to order something if it wasn’t damn near impossible to get anyone to deliver to the club, and god forbid John Price actually install a proper kitchen. But there would be no use for any sort of kitchen in a place like that, as it’s not good food that makes people swarm to Terminus like brainwashed zombies. It’s the booze. The music. A quickie in the stall. 

Shady activities in an alleyway. 

Simon huffs as he tosses the empty chip container in the small bin that sits in the corner of the surveillance room. Monitors upon monitors line the wall on the far side of the room, illuminating the concrete floor with a grey glow as faint music pulses through the air. He hates this room. Small, stuffy, and overheating with the computers and servers; he’d rather be out in the bitter November winter right about now. He’s out of luck tonight, because after nearly two weeks, Johnny’s research has finally bore fruit. 

About time, too. All Simon has been able to think about for the last few days has been you. Sometimes when he closes his eyes, he can still see the outline of your body. It’s ingrained in his mind. He still sees your limp, exhausted form as you rested in the conversation pit—too overwhelmed to keep conscious. It follows him like a bad dream. He doesn’t know why you haunt him so terribly. Perhaps he has Aelin to blame; she knows how he never likes leaving a job half done. 

Or maybe it’s because you’re so… peculiar. For a woman he can only describe as being a skittish cat, you’ve suddenly melted into some other version of yourself. Your dislike of his proximity to you is obvious. Short words, gauche exchanges; yet you have this impulsive need to constantly get even with him, like you’re trying to sweep up the breadcrumbs that lead to your door lest he get hungry and follow you home. 

However, when he visited you a few days ago to check on your hands—as promised—you seemed to be a whole new person. Well, not entirely. If you were the world’s most skittish cat before, you have now become the feral stray that would maybe eat out of the palm of his hand if he doesn’t look at you while you do it. He asked you questions and you responded with something more than simple words or an uneasy, anxiety induced joke. 

I’m… glad that you’re not doing this just for me.

He still wonders what you meant by that. 

“Hey, you paying attention?” Johnny whines. 

Simon blinks the glaze out of his eyes—one which carries a now greenish-yellow hue around his cheekbone—and pushes the thought of you out of his mind as his attention fully settles on the monitors in front of him. A chair squeaks as Johnny settles back against the worn, faux leather. He’s already got everything loaded up for whatever presentation he’s about to give. 

“Waitin’ on you, Johnny,” he playfully retorts. 

“Right,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “So, I’ve been trying to do some research on your dance partner here, and he’s a slippery fucker. Whoever he is, he’s good at covering his tracks up. At least through the methods I use to find people. Nothing on the media or anything like that. Might as well not exist at all in the tech world.” 

A hum rumbles in Simon’s throat as he crosses his arms. “You drag me in here just to tell me you found nothing?” 

Johnny’s neck cranes to the side where he then looks up at him with a wide smirk. “Come on, Riley. When have I ever wasted your time?” 

Both men turn their attention back to the monitor as Johnny begins to rewind through the footage from a few days ago—the day Simon found you in the alley. Everything happens fast as he speeds through the film. Bodies dart across view like ants, and there’s a comedic speed up cars driving along the road as they slice across the monitor like knives. Static streaks across the screen as the footage warps before it suddenly pauses again. 

“Since I wasn’t able to find anything on this guy, I decided to sleuth through the footage again, and I found something a little odd about this bloke here,” Johnny explains as he points to a male figure. Whoever it is, they’re faced away from the camera with their hands shoved deep into their pockets to stave off the cold. “He enters the alley before your pal does…” 

The video plays at normal speed, and the faceless man vanishes behind the brick corner of the building a few meters down, just as Johnny described. He fast forwards, and everything plays at triple speed. Simon’s seen it all before. The man who accosted you enters the alleyway, and then you unfortunately come across him a bit later, but then something happens that he hadn’t bothered to pay attention to before. 

The man Johnny pointed out leaves the alley, this time facing the camera. He’s fiddling with something in his hands, and upon closer inspection, Simon’s able to tell it’s a small wad of cash. It’s quickly stowed away in his pocket, and that’s where Johnny pauses the video. 

“He leaves as soon as Chip arrives, shoving a couple quid into his pocket like he struck a deal,” Johnny concludes. 

Tense fingers grip the back of the office chair as Simon leans over Johnny’s shoulder, squinting at the face on the screen. He scrutinizes every detail possible through the fuzzy footage, and his jaw flexes as he huffs. 

Square jaw, visible stubble, and eyes just as shifty as his character. 

“He looks familiar,” Simon mutters. 

“He oughta. Fucker works here.” 

A rancid taste floods the back of Simon’s throat at that revelation, and his fingers tense so greatly that the imitation leather of the chair threatens to crack beneath his grip. Fury rises in the dark irises of his eyes as he leans back and grumbles. It seems like such a simple detail to miss. Something that he should have caught the other night, even in his sleep deprived state. If he had, he would have been several leaps closer to the real issue ages ago. 

“Who is he?” Simon demands. 

“Marcel Wylder,” Johnny answers as he twists in his chair to face him. “Works part time as one of the bartenders in the VIP lounge. Only really works on the weekends, and according to the floor manager, he’s a good kid. Twenty three years old. Always shows up on time, things of that sort.” 

“Good kids don’t meddle with men who like to scare women in alleyways,” Simon retorts. 

Johnny shrugs. “Guess we all have our dark sides… some are darker than others.” 

It takes a few more moments for Simon to finally get himself to look away from the screen, and his eyes land on Johnny with a malice not meant for him. He’s not quite sure why this revelation angers him so. The sting of failure pricks at his skin too violently for him to ignore it. 

“He here tonight?” he asks. 

“Yeah, he’s working on the second floor right now. Or, at least that’s where he was last, according to the cameras,” Johnny answers. He pauses to lick his lips and tilt his head. “You’re brewing something in that head of yours. I can tell. None of it looks too cheerful.” 

Swarthy eyes glare back at the monitor as Simon commits this new face and name to memory. Marcel Wylder. Twenty three. Square jaw. Stubble. Thin eyes. 

“Thanks for the intel, Johnny,” is all Simon says as he turns on his heels and walks towards the exit. 

A high pitched squeak echoes off the dull white walls of the room as Johnny excitedly watches him leave. All he can make out are a straight set of shoulders, clenched fists, and an aura that demands blood. 

“Go easy on the kid!” Johnny calls after him—his voice is too saccharine to truly mean it. 

There are very rarely any times when Simon Riley feels like a savior, but he can’t deny the fact that he feels like Moses when he’s walking through Terminus. Eyes snap to him, wary of the large brute attempting to slice through the club like a dull axe. All it takes is a single glance or a firm hand on someone’s shoulder and the mass of pulsing bodies splits open for him like the Red Sea. 

This trend continues as he jogs up the wrought iron spiral staircase that leads up to the second floor, and his path to Marcel is highlighted by the mob of patrons crowding the bar. He looks nicer tonight than he did the previous night, and his square jaw almost appears defined now that he’s shaved that fuzz off of his face. Pristine dress clothes mark him as a perfect employee as he quickly fills orders and stuffs tips in his pocket all with a thankful smile. Doesn’t look like he’s doing half bad for himself, considering there’s a near topless woman serving booze next to him. 

“Marcel!” 

Simon’s voice booms louder than the bass of the music and is so sharp all other sounds nearly seem to cease for a moment. That pathetic sod glances up from his work like a schoolboy being scolded, and his face grows pallid. All it takes is a simple gesture of his fore and middle fingers to get the man to slip from behind the bar and join him in the crowd. 

He leads Marcel out behind the building like a lamb to slaughter. Just like a good offering, he’s quiet. Hardly asks anything besides is everything alright? to which Simon doesn’t respond. Biting wind attempts to tear through the formidable fabric of Simon’s clothes, but it seems to really do a number on the kid. Hardly even ten seconds out the door and the poor boy is wrapping his arms around himself and trying hard not to shiver, lest he look pathetic in front of the head of security. 

A flickering halogen light is the only source of illumination in the shady alley, and even in the bleakness of winter the garbage spoils and festers with a stomach-churning odor. Marcel stands cornered with his back to the wall, and he watches with trepidation as Simon’s hand dives into his pocket. Relief doesn’t fill his face until his eyes catch sight of a pack of cigarettes. 

The cancer-stick sits at home between Simon’s lips as he lights it and puffs out a steady stream of smoke until it’s well lit. A gentle breeze whisks it away into the air where it quickly dissipates among the smog smothered stars. Once he’s satisfied, he holds the pack out toward Marcel. 

“You smoke?” he asks. 

“Yes sir,” Marcel answers. 

Simon shakes the pack, prompting him to take one, and a smile pulls at the boy’s lips. “Cheers.” 

As Marcel’s trembling hands work on igniting the lighter, Simon takes a better look at him. There’s hardly a single scar on him, and his hands are much too soft to truly be a part of any violent syndicate. Still, anyone can be a mole, even if they’re a smooth faced kid. 

“What do you do outside of work?” Simon asks. It’s kind enough. Simple, polite conversation—but there’s nothing civil about the look in his eyes as he chews on the filter of his cigarette. 

“School, mostly,” Marcel replies. 

Simon hums. “Uni?”

“Greenwich.” 

“Smart.” 

Another exhale of smoke dances between Simon’s lips as he huffs, dark eyes still trained on Marcel. He’s damn near shivering out of his skin as the black fabric of his uniform is designed to whisk away sweat and keep you cool in warm, humid temperatures. No matter; the boy can warm up soon enough. Simon intends for this interaction to be quick. 

“Since you’re a smart kid, you’ll do well to be truthful with me then, yeah?” Simon prompts as he flicks a bit of ash onto the ground. “That bloke you met up with the other night? Who is he?” 

Trembling muscles suddenly freeze, and the cigarette seems stuck against Marcel's lips. There’s no exhale of smoke. The embers don’t brighten at the tip to show he’s inhaling. There’s nothing. 

“Bloke?” he repeats. 

“The fucker you met up with in the alley a week or two ago,” Simon snaps, already impatient. 

Marcel jumps and the cigarette falls free from between his lips and fingers. It sputters and whines on the ground, where the boy quickly puts it out of its misery by stomping on the embers until they’re no longer glowing. 

“Right, erm, Andrei I think it was.” 

“Andrei who?” 

“I dunno. I just know him as Andrei. Honest,” Marcel insists. 

“What did he want?” Simon presses. 

“Well, he had this picture of someone. Some bitch he didn’t want hanging around here I suppose. Was asking me questions about her and stuff,” Marcel replies earnestly. 

A bright pink dusts the tips of Simon’s ears. The muscles in his jaw begin to flex. “What did she look like?” 

“She was dressed mostly in black, kind of similar to our serving uniforms. It looked like it was taken through the window of some restaurant. I don’t know which one it was. I swear!” 

Sapori. 

Teeth nearly cut through the filter of his cigarette as Simon’s jaw clenches. He rips the thing out of his mouth and tosses it on the ground, not even bothering to stomp it out. This man—this Andrei—is getting too close to you for comfort. He thinks back to the way you reacted in the alley; how petrified you were. A terrible thought plagues his mind as he wonders what has been done to you to get you to fear someone so terribly. 

Simon doesn’t like where his mind is wandering. 

“What questions did he ask about her?” Simon continues. 

“Dunno, just regular stuff? I suppose? He asked when she was here and who she was with. Things like that,” Marcel replies. 

Simon raises an eyebrow. “And?”

“And I told him the truth. About how she was here on Halloween. I mean, I didn’t see much of her so there wasn’t a lot I could tell him. Honest. I think he was mostly looking for confirmation that she was here at all. He didn’t ask for anything else after that, and he sent me on my way.” 

Acid eats away at Simon’s stomach. The chips he devoured before this seem to have a hard time settling with the heavy ire disrupting his mood. Dense feet scrape against the ground as he takes a few steps closer to Marcel, who puts his hands up in defense as if that’s going to do anything against the rating storm barreling straight for him. 

“That’s it, that’s everything, honest! I swear!” he pleads. 

“I know. I believe you,” Simon says through gritted teeth. 

Worn knuckles crash into the tense flesh just underneath Marcel’s sternum, stealing the very breath from his lungs. He sputters miserably as his back crashes against the brick wall behind him, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t breathe. A deep purple hue stains his face as his body begins to jolt and spasm uncontrollably. It’s impossible to keep himself upright with the wind knocked out of him—diaphragm screaming in protest—he slowly slides onto the ground with his hands over his stomach like he’s trying to stop blood flowing through a wound. 

“You’re a smart boy, so listen close,” Simon says as he crouches to Marcel’s new height. He rubs at his sore fist, but his eyes don’t stray even an inch from his target. “Be careful who you call a bitch ‘round here, because if I ever hear you refer to a woman like that again, I’ll knock your goddamn teeth out like the sorry sod you are, ya hear?” 

Still sputtering and heaving, Marcel nods. 

“Good. Now, that woman Andrei showed you? Forget her. She doesn’t exist to you. If he comes ‘round here askin’ about her, you tell him you haven’t seen her, because you won’t. You’ve got nothin’ for him, yeah? Nod.” Simon’s tone is too severe to deny—Marcel complies easily. “If anyone ever starts askin’ about any of our patrons or workers, you bring that shit right to me. Don’t you ever go ‘round behind my fuckin’ back again. You think there’s anything that happens here that I don’t know about? Huh?” 

After an eternity of struggle, Marcel is finally able to get a good gasp in, and a few subsequent breaths after that. That bright purple begins to fade from the paleness of his face, and he quivers and shakes his head. 

“N-No sir,” he stutters. “Sor-ry…” 

“Good. Don’t you ever fuckin’ forget that.” 

Simon pushes himself up to his feet and looks down at Marcel as he writhes and chokes on his achy diaphragm. He haphazardly digs around his pocket for his pack of smokes before he retrieves a single cigarette and tosses it toward the pathetic lump of a man at his feet. It bounces on the slimy ground before rolling to a stop with specks of dirt sticking to the filter—Simon’s half-hearted attempt at an apology. 

“Take a breather. Have yourself another smoke, then get back to work,” he orders. He turns to leave, but only gets a few steps away before he pauses. A stiff finger points at Marcel. “Keep in mind, that's not even half of what I’ve got, yeah?” 

Marcel’s pathetic response is drowned out by the uproar of music that fills Simon’s ears as he returns back inside of the club. A thick wall of heat melts the frost off of his skin as his brooding figure cuts through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. His blood continues to boil with clenched fists and heavy breaths. It’s all consuming. Swallowing him whole. Simon doesn’t like being angry. He feels too much like his father, and sometimes he fears that he looks like him, too. 

Violent, angry, sinister—his intimidating build and threatening demeanor have always been something he’s tried to rage against. A stereotype he’s been attempting to break. Yet now that he’s gotten one step closer to uncovering the monsters hiding in your shadows, he’s grateful for it. For once, it’s a tool he can use to his advantage. Something he can use to help you. 

Except, while Simon is busy taking baby steps through this web of lies, you’re already in the maw of the beast. 

Frayed string tangles around your fingers as trembling hands attempt to keep themselves busy with a solo game of cat’s cradle. It’s already the 25th again, and just like every other month, you’re in perfect position. Sitting properly on a bench with a wad of cash tucked neatly into the envelope that sits inconspicuously on your lap. This is a dance you know well. A dance you don’t think you’ll ever be free from. 

Washers and dryers hum around you and clash terribly with the ringing of your ears and the violent pounding of your heart. Trepidation plagues you worse than it usually does on your due date. Every other month is predictable. Something you have memorised. But this month? You don’t know how Marco is going to react about what Simon did to Andrei. 

You keep going through possibilities in your mind. Things you need to say to keep him off of Simon’s trail. Ways to apologize to keep him from getting upset. You’ve gone through every option your mind can come up with, yet it doesn’t feel like enough. There’s something you’re still missing. 

But you’ve run out of time. 

Frosty air slices through the warmth of the laundromat and you try your best not to shiver. Not that it does you any good—you’re already shaking. Marco’s cologne drifts along the air, mixing in dissonance with the fragrance of soap and fabric softener. Green eyes scan the small room as he takes note of the single mom folding clothes in the back of the building as her young son watches videos on her phone. It should be comforting to know that you’re not alone—but you’ve learned that you’re never safe. Horror does not wait for eyes to turn away before sinking teeth into flesh. 

Your attention stays firmly on your hands as Marco waltzes up and makes himself at home next to you on the bench. The scent of him scorches your nose as his arm wraps around your shoulders. You try not to jump as he involuntarily pulls you closer to him, and you find your fingers clamping down hard on the string in your hands. 

“Long time, no see,” he greets. 

He’s more cordial than he usually is, and that terrifies you. His thumb rubs at your arm through the fabric of your jumper and you feel your heart leap into your throat. He knows. He knows, and you’re about to pay for it. 

“Did you hear about our good friend, Andrei? Got scuffed up pretty bad the other week,” Marco prompts. 

You swallow your heart down your throat and back into your chest. “Is he alright?” 

“Define alright,” he hums. Long legs spread apart and bump into your thigh, crowding you further like he’s trying to lock you in a cage of your own flesh. “Busted lip, broken nose. His face is so goddamn swollen he sounds like he’s got a cold.” 

Images of Andrei’s wounded face sear your mind. Bright red blood trickling down his lips, an appalled expression on his face as if he had never met anyone capable of putting him in his place before. You should have known then that you wouldn’t walk away unscathed from something like that. Simon’s protection can only reach so far. 

“What were you even doing there, anyway? At Terminus?” Marco then asks. 

“I was delivering food,” you answer truthfully. 

“Oh, you’re a delivery driver now? I thought you were a waitress,” he digs. 

“Hostess…” you correct. 

“Who were you delivering to?”

“My friend… her husband owns the club and she was hungry… so… I, well…” you stumble over your lie. 

Firm fingers dig into your arm as Marco pulls you closer. You try to keep your bottom lip from trembling. “Ah, right. John fucking Price.” 

Shocked, you finally bring yourself to look at him. There’s faint amusement on his face as he stares at the washers in front of him. A mixture of soapy water and colorful clothes dance around in the machine as it gently spins and agitates the fabric. 

“You know him?” you venture to ask. 

A smirk pulls on his lips as he turns his attention to you, and your blood screams at how close his face is to yours. “Don’t worry about that, babe.” 

His eyes capture yours in a way that makes it impossible to look away—like you’re an unfortunate deer caught in the headlights of a speeding car. He wanders down. Down, down, down until he catches sight of the unmarked envelope on your thighs. He grabs it and isn’t at all courteous about where his fingers brush in the process. 

“How did that guy even know you were in that alley? That prick who fought with Andrei?” Marco ponders. 

As he waits for your response, he hits the envelope against the top of your thighs as if he’s bored. Tap, tap, tap. Each time it touches you, you feel your stomach twist. 

“I, uhm, asked the same thing. Said he heard us like… talking and… he thought I needed help. Guess he was the bouncer outside of the VIP entrance. M-My friend said he’s the head of security,” you reply, weaving truth and lies seamlessly together. 

“Yeah, I know who the bastard is,” Marco mutters in reply. 

Something lugubrious tingles up your spine as you have the slight urge to press him for an explanation. You bite that urge away as he folds up the envelope and shoves it into the pocket of his jeans, not even bothering to count the cash. Your gaze finally breaks away from him as you glance back down at your hands. They’re almost fully healed—nothng but faint scars and scabs now. You untangle the string from your fingers as you begin to wind it up, hopeful that he’ll leave soon after this interrogation. 

“Well, it doesn’t matter. I’m sure it was all one big misunderstanding. No use in getting worked up over it, babe,” he sighs. A pause follows his words, one that’s interrupted by the quiet giggling of the child still playing on his mother’s phone as she folds clothes somewhere to your right. “Still, some damage was done. Andrei’s been an annoying fuck ever since the altercation. As much as I would love to let you get off easy, it doesn’t really look too good if I’m letting some sweet, pretty thing walk all over me, now does it?”

Your eyes flutter shut as he speaks, and you attempt to mentally prepare yourself for whatever blow he’s about to deal. Of course it was naive to think you’d get out of this easily. Really, you were prepared to be hurt in some type of way from the moment you stepped foot in the laundromat. All you wanted to do was throw Marco off of Simon’s trail—to not drag someone innocent into this mess—and though it feels like you’ve succeeded for now, you’re not quite sure you even accomplished that much. 

“It doesn’t,” you pitifully agree.

Marco smirks. “Because of that, your monthly payments will be increased by five hundred starting next month. That ought to be enough.”

The very blood coursing through your veins turns to ice, and tears blur your vision as you try to make sense of his words. Five hundred. A brutal panic wreaks havoc in your chest. You want to sob, and scream, and thrash with frustration but his hand is still on your arm, keeping you chained to him. Gluttonous fingers stain your skin and his leg is still pressed against yours, and you can feel the disgusting warmth of his body and you can’t—you can’t. You want to rage, but you’re cornered and trapped, and there’s nothing you can do about it. 

“B-But that’s… that’s fifteen hundred a month, I… I’ve hardly- I can’t make that.” 

You’re crying now, and you hate it. You hate how weak and pathetic you are. You hate how you have no other choice but to be this way—malluable like molten metal and just as brittle. White hot tears cook your cheeks as they travel down your face, and you’re trying your best not to hiccup. Suddenly, you’re a kid all over again. Fawning, trying not to flinch as his hand reaches for your jaw to turn your face to him. His breath smells minty as it fans across the wet streaks on your face—he’s so close you can almost taste the menthol. There’s a small frown on his lips, something that almost looks sincere. 

Almost. His eyes are too hungry for it to be real. 

“Look at you,” he shushes. One hand moves up to cup your cheek while the other stays steady and firm around your shoulders. His thumb caresses your face, catching the briny tears and pushing them to the side. “Getting all upset over this? If it means that much to you, we can always negotiate lower, babe.” 

It takes an eternity for his lips to meet yours, and once they do, everything freezes. The only thing you can comprehend is the ringing in your ears and the warm shame on your skin. It’s degrading. Humiliating. A terrible reminder that you’ve never really belonged to yourself—that you’ve never belonged to anyone or anything but him. 

Things get worse when his tongue pushes past your lips. Everything becomes overwhelming—the washers and dryers, the video on that damn phone, Marco’s slight moan against your skin. You make a pitiful attempt to fight back by pressing your hands on his chest, but you’re met with harsh resistance and rigid muscle. He pulls you closer, holding you tight like a coiling snake. 

Something in you demands blood. You feel obligated to bite down, to sink your teeth into his tongue until the mint in your mouth is replaced with iron and copper. When you were a kid, your dad had taught you how to throw a punch. You wonder what he would think if he saw you like this. Sniveling and too afraid to fight back. 

Once he’s had his fill of your fear, Marco pulls away, but you still can’t breathe. He continues to wipe more tears from your face as if he can’t comprehend why they’re flowing in the first place. 

“For that, we’ll drop it down to only two fifty,” he whispers. He places another kiss against your lips—something chaste and quick. “Unless… you wanna take me up on that deal?” 

“N-No,” you stutter, then sniff. “I’ll get you the money.” 

Humming, Marco finally releases you as he stands to his feet. He looks down at you with a self-satisfied smirk as he gently kicks the side of your foot. “See you next month, babe.” 

Marco leaves just how he arrived—with a gust of bitter, algid wind. He’s taken something from you that you won’t get back, and it’s left you feeling empty on that bench. So void, so barren of anything that you can’t even bring yourself to move. All you can do is sit there and curse yourself for being just as worthless now as you were the day when you first got yourself stuck in this mess. 

Shuffling sounds on your right, and you nearly jump out of your skin as you look up at the source. It’s that lady and her son. You’d nearly forgotten about them. A small basket of neatly folded clothes sits on her hip as she holds the boy’s hand to lead him out of the laundromat. Her face twists with disgust, like she can smell every single sin that’s ever been forced upon you. As if you are at fault for the grotesque display of affection you were made to endure. 

As if the gaping hole in your chest is your fault. 

As she exits, you try not to think about why she didn’t help you. If anything, you’re grateful for it. No more favors. No random acts of kindness. It never turns out well. No good deed ever goes unpunished. 

Instead, you rise to your feet a few minutes later once you’re able to stitch yourself back together. Wiping your face clean, you brave the cold streets of London as you take the transit back home. You swear to yourself that the moment you step foot in your apartment, you’ll rinse your mouth clean until even the thought of Marco is gone. Then, you’ll call Sapori to see if you can pick up an extra shift.

This is how your life was always going to go—you’ve known this whole time. Pathetically slow, time wasted away at work trying to scrounge up enough cash to keep yourself alive. To pay for the right to continue to draw breath. You think of Marco’s scheming words—his terrible offer that he keeps attempting to shove down your throat—and you try not to squirm in your seat on the bus. 

Maybe one day you won’t have any choice but to endure his whims, but for now you’re content on working until your hands bleed.

follow @mother-ilia to be notified of updates | get early access to chapters here

[fairrytype]

heylo

Though I'd update here because it's been where I've put my rambling for years. First off! I'm hoping for more time at home eventually so I can get back to posting art again.

Things have been, for lack of a better word, chaotic lately. Winter blues are leaving, and I finally chased up a bunch of health symptoms I've been putting off for years. I got some answers, but more questions that need more answers by doing so. I'm waiting on some results from some tests, but I'm finally on a waiting list for a spinal team because of the nerve compression/numb legs so that's a plus!

However, my dad, who is a rock in my family and especially in terms of care for my mother, was diagnosed with cancer earlier this week. We're still waiting on biopsy results to see where the situation is at and I've been trying to not think about it too much. As my mum is terminally ill we're having to be realistic in terms of care options because of how bad the chemotherapy could end up being.

It's been a tough week.

I did promise a comic this year and to open commissions , and I've been working on it in my spare time, so just bare with me!! Once I have a stable day at home I can try and do commissions at least. I just need to be at home to work on them!! And before that, I think I need the queer eye guys to come and sort my house out. Seriously. My roommate has had to move home for a while so I've been alone and my motivation to keep on top of things have been especially low. I've come out of this winter depressive episode and woken up where a bomb in the form of clothes and just, STUFF, has gone off.

But, In two weeks my brother gets married and we're all trying to focus on that! I've had to pour all my creativity and spare time into sorting his decoration out so it's given me something hopeful to focus on, if not a little hectic with everything else going on.

TLDR: I feel a little like I'm drowning in life but I'm still here and I WILL BE BACK

[akaikali]

TMAGP SEASON 2 EP 1 REACTION (SPOILERS)

OH. OKAY. SO WE'RE PICKING UP IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE SEASON 1 FINALE. OKAY THEN.

so its just colin's hand??? not his entire body??? i mean, clearly he's become part of the system, right? like im assuming he TURNED into a system, like wires for blood kind of situation???

gwen you absolutely infuriating woman please get fucked (literally) i think it would really do you some wonders. find someone to dom you please im asking nicely it would do you So Much Good

OH. HAND'S GONE. GREAT. COLIN GOT EATEN BY THE COMPUTER AND NOW THE ONLY PROOF THEY HAD OF THAT IS GONE. LOVELY.

OH. OKAY. OKAY WOW. SO. firstly, jmj=null??? its not .jmj error rn??? and also "extension BECHER" so yes colin is become part of the system. and im assume the computer recording we're hearing is from...inside of him or something.

CROWBAR. YOU'RE JOKING. THIS HAS TO BE ON PURPOSE. BRUTAL PIPE URDER VS BRUTAL CROWBAR MURDER. EXCEPT THE CROWBAR WAS KIND OF SELF MURDER.

oh. oh thats. thats fucked. this is so sergey ushanka coded. tessa winters how i miss you my autistic girl with a tech special interest <3

hmmm okay thats strange. "self.host errors resolved" but ".jmj error not resolved"? but also now its like. if what happened to colin happened to jmj and THATS why they're in the system...my poor babies. except for jonah. jonah fucking deserved that.

new administrator permissions assigned?? TO WHO???? COLIN HAD ADMIN PERMISSIONS BEFORE, WHO HAS THEM NOW???? I THINK WHOEVER IT IS PROBABLY HAS FREDDY'S TARGET ON THEM.

"it sounds like the system was...provoked" SHUT UP GWEN YOU ARE SO FRUSTRATING YOU ARE JUST LIKE UR PREDECESSOR (our dear jarchavist)

"no, no, i'm sure we can leave!...Um. Freddie. Can we leave?" gwen i fucking love you, you stupid fucking dumbass <3

so like i also wanna know what alice knows about lena because CLEARLY, she knows that lena would know how to deal with this. also slightly concerned that lena might be dead seeing as she had uh. no exit interview. the government might have just nerfed her.

gwen acting all tough and like she's in charge but immediately running after alice and going "wait, wait for me!" because she's scared of being alone with the murder computer is SO funny

HELLO????? SAM???? MY BOY MY POOR DEAR BOY ARE YOU GOOD?????? listen i know we have mixed opinions on sam but like. come on. the man still fought off the archivist to protect celia when it came after her.

repeated by something. why is that underlined in the transcript. are there...are there like tape recorder creatures. is that whats happening here.

celia. celia honey no. i know you've got a kid and everythin but like sam is NOT okay. my girl, you sacrificed him and used him. and on top of all of that, you've lied to alice about all of this. this is going to end so badly.

"i...recognized it from a case" celia honey i know you can lie better than that. come on. you know alice does NOT believe that.

OH. THATS NOT FUN. THE PHOTOCOPIER PRINTING COLIN'S FACE EVEN WHEN UNPLUGGED. YEAH THAT IS VERY VERY SERGEY UNSHANKA. LOVING THAT. but also honestly valid coping mechanism alice you gotta make the dark jokes or you will break down.

IM SORRY YOU HAVE TO WHISTLE SOMETHING HAPPY TO MAKE THE ECHO MONSTERS LEAVE??? AND SAM CHOOSES FUCKING CIRCUS MUSIC??? "Not circus music, you cretin!" PLEASE IM DYING THIS IS SO FUNNY okay greensleeves is somewhat better.

OH MY GOD ITS GEORGIE ITS WIFE SHE'S BACK I MISSED YOU MY GIRLLLL she's always here for celia i love her. i think she knows whats going on. vaguely.

"But I just want you to know I think things are looking up. All going well, this should be the last zero-notice call out" "We'll see" GEORGIE WHAT DO YOU KNOWWWWW

"i want a solicitor" oh honey :((( even after being dragged into another dimension he first asks for a lawyer. i don't know if that was intentional but with him clearly being a brown man :((((

GEORGIE???? SHE'S. WHAT. CAPTAIN OF THE WARDENS???? "lacks the military mannor one might expect" IS THIS OUR TMA GEORGIE???? WHAT??????????????

"you got a ride in Gertrude" A RIDE IN WHAT NOW???? ARE YOU TELLING ME THEY NAMED A FUCKING TANK OR SOMETHING AFTER GERTRUDE????? okay wait if this is TMA verse then melanie would be around and melanie knows about gerrtrude's explosives so that. checks out actually.

oh celia. celia your web of lies is going to come back to haunt you. i know you cant tell them but at the same time they are going to find out the truth eventually and alice might straight up chuck you into the "tear" herself.

"licensing issues?" alice i love you never change

"How convenient that your only proof is sat in an inbox I can’t read in case it tries to eat me." "It did not 'eat' Colin! The system just… responded to an attack." "By eating Colin." dyhard how i adore you.

OHHHH ARCHIVIST CREATURE FOLLOWED SAM WE KNEW THIS OFC FROM THE TRAILERRRR

okay so. wait. is. was heidi a watcher???? like when the eyepocalypse happened, was she touched by the eye? like she seems like what i would have expected to happen to someone like amy patel.

oh my god we're getting to find out what LONDON was like during the eyepocalypse. whatever the creatures that were hunting down georgie, melanie, and their little cult was. oh my god.

OKAY SO THIS IS DEF TMA-VERSE "Not when the tower fell and the eye closed. Not when the pupil collapsed and the Archivist died, his face still burned into my mind." BUT ALSO FUCK ME NOOOOO IS JARCHAVIST REALLY DEAD NOOO NO NO HE'S SOMEWHERE ELSE I AM IN DENIAL HE'S ELSEWHERE HE AND MARTIN ARE LIVING IN ANOTHER UNIVERSE HAPPY IN THE SCOTTISH HIGHLANDS

oh heidi. bye bye heidi.

WOW WHAT A START TO THE SEASON. WE GOT SO MUCH. I HAVE NEVER SAID "WHAT THE FUCK" THIS MANY TIMES IN A ROW BEFORE. GERTRUDE IS A VEHICLE NOW. WHAT THE FUCK.

[spoolziecore]

you dont know how much that question means to me.

OKAY. SO. the characters pictured are like. artistic depictions of me and my friends characters in this minecraft smp were in (RebootSmp) that is a moreorless peaceful server (with no griefing allowed, keep inventory on and overall just a peaceful vibe to it,) but what it lacks in in gameplay, it makes up for with lore!!!

The lore for RebootSMP is really long, but TLDR; back then, before the tribes existed, hybrids and non hybrids lived peacefully, some friends, some neighbors, some even lovers. Until, a group named the Reservists was formed, a group of non hybrids that despised hybrids and saw them as overpowered. Years and years flew by as the Reservists grew and grew— until, chaos struck.

The Calamity; devastating event that destroyed the human and hybrid connection forever. By that point, the Reservists had gained enough members to take down several communities; and so they did. They targeted the strongest hybrids, seeking to make the go extinct - but not without getting what they desired most first.

All hybrid species lost a significant amount of members, but several went completely extinct, these being the cave spider, elder guardian, endermen, ender dragon, warden, iron golem, piglin brute, wither and wither skeleton hybrid species. These species now no longer exist, yet remnants of their past can be found throughout the world. At most, it's possible that one or two have survived, but it's highly doubted.

The fish (the sun in this depiction) is named Deez. Copy pasted from his official lore that the creator of Deez sent; Deez was a literal doorstep baby, aka orphan. Ended up on a sweet old lady(who lived alone)'s door one day and he was taken in, he doesn't know who his real parents were and is pretty clueless about it. After he grew up, he moved out. Trying to find a place to settle and stuff, where he met Rowan. The reason why he was like. ditched and stuff; They (Deez's parents) were blessed with this dumb little shit and were happy one day, until they realized "hey maybe our child could grow up and have elder guardian features." And just had to find a new home for him, obviously he didn't inherit the cool features but they didn't knew since, he was still just a little fish fetus. So, they just put him in a basket and put him on a doorstep. Why didn't they choose to put him at an orphanage? I don't know, maybe because they didn't trust him with an organization that's run by non hybrids.

Rowan is the cat (the moon in this depiction), i havent exactly made a full backstory for them yet, but, heres what ive thought of so far; Rowan was a golden child, winning competitions left and right, being loved by their parents, until they found out who they really were.

They tried to come out to their parents, but their parents told them what they are is 'disgraceful' and 'going against gods order' or whatever, and kicked them out at 17 or so years old.

They wandered the taiga forests for a while, their fur growing to adapt to the cold, unforgiving winters and snowfalls, that was when they found Deez.

yeah. thats it!! this post is. so long i am so sorry UMMM BUT YEAH!! also sidenote Deez and Rowan see eachother more as siblings compared to partners in crime so do with that information as you will ^_^

heres them in minecraft :3 ignore the fact deez is headless his skin is literally a fish. ummm. Their duo name is Inverted Duo because blue inverted is orange!

like. this is literally his skin.

Bore the shadows that you made, With ⠀ no ⠀ light ⠀of ⠀ my ⠀own.

[always-a-slut-4-ghouls]

The phrase rabbit hole is actually kinda funny to me because the rabbits where I live don’t really live in holes, so if I fell down one here it would be even weirder 😆

[pinkfey]

remember how in dao there were always like multiple flirty options u could just spring on ur love interest and it wasn't something that was brushed past it would stop a conversation dead in its tracks to have a cute secondary flirty offshoot with small variations dependent on the flirty option u initially chose with a unique course correction to get back on topic after...... yeah.

[softquietsteadylove]

Red and Green

Gil is glowering. He's been glowering almost since they arrived. He's happy to help, of course. Jack is in the winter play, and since Sersi is also teaching at his school, they've all come to help out with last minute decorating and such. He's baked five sheet pans worth of goodies for the bake sale taking place before and after the play.

Thena is on stage, helping Jack and a few other kids with putting fake snow everywhere. She's not exactly taking part but she's good at keeping them from throwing it on each other or anywhere unnecessary.

That's not the problem. The teacher talking to her is the problem.

Gil doesn't know who he is. Ben says he thinks he's the gym teacher or something. Seems a little young--aren't gym teachers always old dudes who don't actually play sports? This guy is their age, visibly handsome, even from a distance.

"You're a natural with them," the tall, blonde stranger insists.

Thena shakes her head, "I couldn't disagree more. I am here for Jack and no one else. The little hellions can fend for themselves."

She says, and then still decisively stops two boys close to the stairs from seeing what the fake snow tastes like.

"Well, I think you're a natural." Who does this guy think he is? He was moving some larger stuff around with Ikaris all afternoon. Apparently until Thena caught his eye and lured him away.

Gil rolls his eyes as Mister Blondie pulls off the fleece he's been wearing. His t-shirt gets pulled up a little with it, just enough for the stage lighting to really emphasize the full, washboard eight pack of abs he's got.

Phastos clears his throat loudly in Ben's ear. "Ahe-hem, Mister Stoss."

"Habibi, please," Ben attempts to lean away from his husband. "It is not a sin to have eyes, my love."

Gil sneers to himself. Thena has eyes. And while she wasn't openly admiring like Ben had - no matter how briefly - he knows she's seen them. He just...knows it.

"Gil?" Ikaris walks over to him, tugging at his own t-shirt now that boxes are moved or sets are arranged, or whatever they've been doing. "Wanna give us a hand?"

"Who is that guy?" Gil points blatantly at the man still chatting Thena up while she's trying to keep an eye on Jack and his friends.

Ikaris looks and shrugs. "Teacher."

Gil shakes his head at him. If Ikaris weren't both Thena's brother and Sersi's husband, sometimes he really wonders how they would have become friends. "Thanks, helpful--I meant how did he and Thena get to talking. She doesn't usually talk...with people."

It's not his most subtle tactic. But Ikaris doesn't seem to pick up on his greenish aura. "I heard him ask her a little about what she used to play. Guess they're talkin' about college sports?"

Gil's discomfort only increases, though. Thena did play sports when they were younger. He didn't. And he knows that she misses how she used to play soccer in high school and even in the first year of college.

His eyes are glued to them as Thena smiles and even laughs faintly as she talks to Whats-His-Face.

"What?" Ikaris asks him outright (no tact at all).

Gil huffs, deciding he's done just watching things unfold. "I don't think you'd like it if he was chatting up your wife."

Ikaris makes a face. "I guess not. But he's not. And Thena's not your wife."

Gil doesn't have a defense to that. He storms off so Ikaris can't announce to all the auditorium volunteers how flushed he is. Instead, he hurries up the little stairs onto the stage. "Uh, hey."

Thena stops dead in her conversation to smile at him, "hey."

He has to give it to him, if Mister Golden is bothered at all by the interruption, he doesn't let it show. "Hey, thanks again for helping out. The school doesn't have much to offer for things like these. Volunteering really goes a long way for the kids."

Gil tries not to scoff at Mister Perfect's magnanimous speech. He offers a stiff smile and hovers closer to Thena. "Yeah--I need Thena's help with the bake sale stuff, if you'll excuse us."

Thena lets him grasp her hand and all but pull her away. She only lingers enough to point over her shoulder, "Jack is in charge."

The other kids whine, but he's still riding the high of having all his 'cool' aunts and uncles help.

"Oh," Mister Friendly laughs faintly with a bright smile (and perfect teeth). "Well, it's already snowing out. You should stay warm inside."

Gil bristles as Mister Flirtatious' hand comes dangerously close to touching Thena's shoulder. He pulls her closer to him.

"I can give you a hand," he offers.

Gil is now borderline tugging Thena with him. "Thanks, but I need to, uh, ask her opinion on some things."

He wants to get right in the guy's face and tell him that of course he knows it's already snowing. He's not going to let Thena get cold! He rushes off the stage with her and makes sure to grab her coat off the back of one of the chairs. Maybe it's a bit obvious, but he loudly shakes it out and holds it up for her to slide her arms into the sleeves.

Mister Sunshine just smiles and waves before going back to watching the kids.

Gil sniffs. "He's friendly."

"Quite." It doesn't tell him what he wants it to. Usually Thena isn't warm to people just coming up and talking to her.

"What were you guys talking about?" he asks, realizing it's too late for him to be asking in a fake-casual way. He shoves his hands in his pockets as they walk out of the auditorium and head outside.

"He introduced himself as the physical education teacher," she states factually, which at least isn't the smitten fondness he was dreading hearing from her after their interaction. "He told me Jack is doing exceedingly well in his activities."

Of course that was his in; Thena is a sucker for talking about Jack, in any way, shape or form.

"Phastos is insistent Jack learn American football, but my practices with him have been paying off," she states with her nose all the way in the air with pride.

Gil laughs. Thena is determined to get Jack so hooked on it that he calls it football instead of the American 'soccer'. "It is a little less physical than football."

They get outside and Gil shoves his hands deeper in his pockets. Maybe it was dumb for him to get Thena's coat for her and not go looking for his own.

"Gil, aren't you cold?" she asks outright.

"It's okay, I just need a hand with a few of the trays," he excuses with a smile, unlocking his car from where they stand.

"What did you need my opinion on?"

Oh, right, the blatant and bold faced lie he told in order to soothe his own jealousy. What was he thinking? Ikaris was right, Thena isn't his wife--she's not even his girlfriend. But that never really bothered him so much as when he saw Mister Model up there chatting her up...showing off his abs to her.

"Gil?"

"Uh, well," he hesitates to get out as they step out from the school doors' cover and into the light evening snow. "I guess...do you think what I made will sell well?"

It's lame--it's super lame, and embarrassing. It's a bit late, isn't it? He's made a full dozen of five different desserts. Wouldn't he have asked this before he got so far into the process? And she and Jack were there when he baked them at Ben and Phastos'!

"Of course they will," she answers honestly, though. He likes the blunt and earnest realism on her more than Ikaris. "Your baking is always amazing. I'm sure the school will make back the cost of the play and then some."

"If they make the 'then some' I think I should get to keep the profit," he mutters. Thena laughs at his joke, but butter is expensive, and he's made three dozen different shortbreads! "Here."

He hands Thena a tray of the frosted cookies, which have to be separate from the rest to keep their design integrity pristine. He carries the other three trays himself and closes his trunk.

"It's nice that Jack is excited about it."

Gil smiles, some of his earlier agitation melting away. Thena, for all her insistence that she didn't like anything to do with children, lives for Jack. She loves coming to his school events, helping with parent stuff. He knows she's lied at her job so she can attend every single soccer game he has, even when they're at 4 in the afternoon on a tuesday.

"I didn't expect him to be so happy to have all of us here."

"Well sure," Gil chuckles, breathing a little easier now that it's just them. "Jack thinks you're the coolest aunt in the world. He's bragging to his friends right now about how you were a pro soccer player and know how to use swords."

Thena rolls her eyes modestly. "I keep telling him it's an amateur fencing class."

Calling it amateur is a disservice; Gil has witnessed a little of it giving her a ride once, and she dominates in it.

"I hope he never gets tired of having us around for things like this," she admits to him quietly, maybe even sheepishly. "Even when he's a teenager."

Gil smiles even wider, because Thena is just so sweet and loving under her calm and placid exterior. "I'm sure he won't. At least not you--maybe Uncle Ikaris."

Thena laughs, and it shows off her teeth in a cute way.

Gil shifts his load to open the door for her. He really didn't need help with anything, but he doesn't need to confront what it means that he was so desperate to get her out here with him just yet.

"There you two are, people are starting to arrive!"

"Sorry, just had to keep 'em nice and cold y'know," Gil murmurs as Sersi rushes forward to take Thena's tray for her. He sighs but Ikaris has some decency and extends his hands. Gil lets him take the top tray from him. "Are you sure I'm supposed to have this much real estate?"

Sersi waves a hand. "I've run this bake sale the last three years. I am not exaggerating when I tell you two parents at most will actually bring enough. Everyone else just brings a store bought cookie platter and lets it suffice. They don't sell well and they just take it home with them after the play."

"Gil will put them all to shame."

He blushes at the confidence Thena has in him. "If it's to help the kids put this play on again next year, then fine."

Ben has his phone out, snapping pictures. "They're gonna knock people's socks off, Gil."

"Thanks guys," he sighs as he unwraps his trays upon trays.

"They certainly look great!"

Gil's blood pressure spikes again. He turns and someone has let the golden retriever with a whistle around his neck out of the auditorium. "Thanks."

"Jack's been bragging about how his uncle is the best cook on the planet. I hope I can snag one for myself before the play!"

He's just being friendly, but Gil can feel his veins tightening under his skin with every word out of this guy's mouth. He looks at Ben, who's all excited and bouncing with his phone up. "What?"

Ben points.

Gil looks up, as does Thena. There's a pretty half-assed sprig of mistletoe hanging from the decorative archway put up over the table. He looks around; none of the other ones have this. He's ready to tell Ben to stop messing around. But then the presence of Mister Smiley and the memory of him flirting with Thena resurfaces in Gil's mind.

Thena's eyes go wide but she doesn't move as he pulls her closer. He slides his hand up her cheek, letting his palm angle and hide where their faces make contact, and not too briefly. Her eyes flutter closed.

Everyone's jaws drop (except Ben's).

Gil pulls away. He's kissed her close enough to her mouth that it will look the part, but not actually on her lips. But far away from her cheek that it can't be misconstrued from her view. He smiles as her eyes open again and she blinks at him.

He's never seen Thena blush before.

"You know I wouldn't kiss you without asking," he whispers before pulling himself away from her. "But, uh, come find me after the play is done?"

"H-Hm," she squeaks out, taking a few stiff steps away, her heels clicking like a fawn's hooves as it learns to walk.

Gil goes back to setting up his bake sale spread, some renewed vigour swirling in his chest. He peeks up from the table. Mister Perky seems to have gotten the hint and has started directing parents with trays to take the other (smaller) tables. Gil is satisfied.

Ben loudly snaps a picture, practically giggling. "Habibti, you're as red as the tinsel."

"Stop it! And delete that!"

Gil chuckles to himself as Thena rushes back into the auditorium and away from the commotion he's just caused. He does hope she comes find him after, and not just because he's her ride home.

Ikaris gives him a strange look but Sersi rushes him inside too. She leans back into Gil's view to give him an enthusiastic thumbs up. He blushes, but if Sersi thinks it was the right move then maybe he's onto something.

Gil takes a seat, ready to start selling. He has to admit that maybe he owes it to Mister Chatty to save him a brownie or something. But only if he gets to kiss Thena again later.

[cheeseknives]

Instagram keeps showing me reels of someone with a handle named something like jamesmaythristtraps and like, they are truly doing gods work but I can't like or comment on these masterpieces because I know what kind of snitch of an app it is 😔

[dreamyberry]

/3.11.24