#but now I don’t even need the transcripts half the time

[avatarofthetired]

So I relistened to MAG039 because I was thinking of a silly moment from it (ghost Martin :3) and wanted to go back to it

And let me tell you

Now that I have the ability to differentiate between character voices and I can understand their tones and speaking mannerisms better

I can finally see how FUNNY Tim Stoker is

And I know on the relisten of the whole series I’m going to be so much more devastated at everything that happens (to literally everyone) because now I’m so much more connected

[hedonists-den]

POV: Your eating habits and your weight have gotten so unbelievably out of control lately that I think it's about time I give you a wake-up call in the form of some teasing and shaming.

⚠�� It gets a little mean, so... ⚠️

Hope you enjoy! 😇

TRANSCRIPT:

What is it? Is there something you need to tell me? You overate again... Well, I'm not surprised. Is it really overeating if you do it every time you sit down and glut yourself like you’re trying to win some prize? No, it's just the norm for fatasses like you. Shameless, self-indulgent gluttony is just the way it is for you. You should be ashamed. You should be desperately searching for a way to stop yourself. What kind of person shovels food in their face the way you do? What kind of person lets themselves get so obese that they can’t do basic things without getting winded?

I don’t imagine you even have any excuse for what you're doing to yourself. Imagine what you could look like if you weren't so busy gorging yourself with greasy food and carbs every chance you get. It's fucking obscene. And do I really need to bring up your sweets addiction? I swear, at this point, you might as well just have me hook a funnel up to your greedy mouth and pour syrup down your throat. 

Wait…please don’t tell me…do you actually think about that? What, are you just going to eat and eat and eat until you can barely waddle from room to room? Have me stuff you until all that weight that you keep piling on ripples with every lumbering step that you take? Is that what you want, fatty? This huge, heavy-breathing, mound of embarrassing flab that can barely maneuver around your own home? If you keep this shit up, you’ll be there faster than all those DoorDash deliveries you keep getting every fucking day.

At this point, I’m just morbidly curious about what goes on inside your head that justifies letting yourself become so shockingly, grotesquely obese. I mean, look at what a shameless blob you are…rolls stacked on top of each other like pancakes, each one covered in stretch marks, with a hanging gut that takes over your lap, the flab on your arms keeping them pinned to your sides. God, every inch of your body is overflowing with fat. You eat so many goddamn calories, it looks like you're in a near-constant state of stretching and expanding. How can you not notice that your body is screaming at you to stop being such a fucking pig?

Is there even a point in trying to shame you for all of this? You’re obviously not going to change one thing about the way you’re ruining yourself. All you’re going to do, as soon as you can, is find the next thing to stuff your face with. So, what is it going to be this time, tubby? Burgers? Pizza? Few boxes of snack cakes? Honestly, I wouldn’t put it past you to get all three, the way that I’ve seen you eat. You clearly don’t have any self-control, so, fuck it, why not? Just hork down more calories until your body can barely handle it. Stuff your bottomless pit of a stomach every chance that you get. Even after every other sign is telling you to stop. 

You know what? I don’t think anything can help you now. You are too far gone, and there’s no way you’re coming back from this. You’re going to be half a metric ton of pure blubber soon enough. And you’ll have no one to blame but yourself for what a hopeless, greedy, wobbling tub of lard that you are. So just lay back and grab another snack, why don’t you?

[pilot-boi]

Pilot, I know you primarily bully Jaune. But would you mind having a go at Papa Arc talking to the Vacuo mural?

Orion Arc is not a hero, even though his son always thought he was. He’s just a man who loves his family and tries his best to do right by them.

So it’s more than a little strange standing there, in front of a mural of his own son’s face. His boy immortalized and honored in ways Orion could never dream of.

His son looks like a stranger.

“Mr. Branwen thought it might help to talk to ya.” Orion’s hand brushes over the palm prints of countless children, all paying their respect to his boy. “Don’t see much point, ain’t gonna bring you back.”

His son watches him, all quiet confidence and bravery. A true warrior, a hero. Where is his brash anxious son who begged to join the Huntsman Academies? How much of his son did he lose when Jaune finally left home? Somewhere along the way his boy grew into a man and he wasn’t there to help him.

“Your uh…” He clears his throat. “Your mother misses you.” And it sounds pathetic even as he says it. Even in front of a facsimile of his son he can’t say what he needs to.

“She was beside herself when you didn’t come back from Haven.” So was he, even more so than his wife. Orion paced the house for days, worry driving him to throw himself into work, into anything that would take his mind off the attack and the fate of his boy. “We were so relieved to hear from Saph about you and your friends.”

His friends. A group of seven that from all accounts Jaune grew closer to than even his sisters. Orion glances up at the others in the mural. Four of which fell alongside his boy, and the other three were left grieving.

Ren, Nora, and Oscar, he remembers them being called. He never thought he’d see his grief echoed in faces so young.

“As soon as we saw the broadcast, your mother was packin’ our bags.” Orion chuckles. “You shoulda seen her, she was fixin’ to march up to the General herself and teach him a lesson. If I ever wondered where you got your fire, I got my answer.”

His face falls, crumpling like paper. “And I triedta douse that fire.” How many times did he tell Jaune it was okay if he failed? How many times did he refuse to train him? How many times did he let his fear guide him to crush his son’s dreams?

“When you walked into the livin’ room with your transcripts in hand sayin’ you were gonna be a Huntsman whether I wanted it or not, why…” His eyes are stinging. If there’s anything his son inherited from him, it’s his tendency for emotions to live near the surface. “Why that was the proudest day of my life.”

He’d never been more proud. Never. His boy standing there with those papers clutched in his fist, and a defiant look on his face. “I won’t let you down.” Jaune had said.

You could never let me down. It’s what he should’ve said. Why didn’t he just say it?

Orion scrubs the heel of his hand into his eyes. It does nothing to stop the flow of tears. “Did I ever once tell ya how proud I am of you?” His voice is cracking and hitching, but if he stops talking now Orion knows he’ll never start again.

“You’re so brave and you don’t quit when things get tough. I saw how hurt you were after the Fall of Beacon, but you just got right back on that horse.” His baby boy, the most caring and most stubborn of all his children. Strapping the family sword back onto his hip because “Somebody has to, dad.”

Letters where it’s clear his boy isn’t saying half the trouble, but he’s saying enough that they know what trouble is. Hearing about the attack on Haven, a week and a half of terror. Saphron sending word that Jaune made it to Argus.

And then nothing. Nothing until the broadcast from Miss Rose.

Packing in a whirlwind, sending the girls to stay with Saphron. Renting the first available airship to Vacuo and contending with his wife’s motion sickness. By the time they got there, they were met halfway by a near armada.

But no Jaune.

Orion’s hand rests on Jaune’s painted cheek. A child’s hand against the larger-than-life hero his boy grew into when he wasn’t there.

Did he ever tell his son how much he loves him?

“Come back to us,” Orion begs, no longer trying to stem the flow of tears. Why bother? His son isn’t here to see them.

[lynzishell]

The Present 🧡 Chestnut Ridge

Prev // Next

Transcript + Bonus below the cut:

Julian: So, how long have you been living out here? Joseph: About eight years now.

Julian: Why didn’t you call me? Joseph: Figured you were finally done with me. The last time we spoke, you told me never to contact you again.

Julian: When has that ever stopped you? Joseph: [laughs] Fair. Guess it felt like you meant it this time. Julian: I suppose I did. But I’m glad you’re doing well. It’s really good to see you. Joseph: You too.

The font door opens and slams shut. Daisy: [barking] Danny: Papa!

Danny: Whoa. Um. Hi. Joseph: Hey bud, c’mon in. How was school? Danny: Good.

Joseph: Guys, this is my son Danny. Danny, this is Julian and Phoenix.

Danny: So, you’re my brother? Phoenix: I sure am. Danny: Cool. D’you wanna meet my goats? Joseph: Hey now, do you have homework? Danny: Yeah, but I can do it tomorrow. You said I can stay home, remember? Joseph: I remember. But these guys have had a long drive, so how about we give ‘em a break tonight and you can show ‘em around tomorrow. Danny: Okay.

Danny: D’you wanna help me with my homework? Joseph: Danny, what did I just say about givin’ ‘em a break? Phoenix: I don’t mind. I can help you. Joseph: You sure? Phoenix: Yeah. I mean, what are big brothers for if not to make sure you get all the wrong answers on your homework? Danny: Hey! Phoenix: I’m kidding. Let’s see what you’ve got.

Phoenix: Look at you, you don’t even need my help. Danny: Math is easy. I like numbers. Phoenix: I like math too. Danny: I don’t like the word problems, though. I have to draw them, or they don’t make sense. Phoenix: Nothing wrong with that.

Danny: Have you met Daisy? Phoenix: Not officially. But she gave me a little bit of a scare when we first got here. Danny: [laughs] That’s ‘cause she thought you were a stranger. Phoenix: She sounds like a good dog.

Danny: Mhm. She’s my dog. She protects our house, and she helps me sleep. Phoenix: Oh yeah? How does she do that. Danny: If I have nightmares, then she wakes me up and lays with me. She can even turn on the light if I’m too scared. Phoenix: That’s pretty cool. Do you have nightmares a lot? Danny: Not anymore. Phoenix: Sounds like she does a good job then.

Danny: Do you have a dog? Phoenix: Nope. I’ve actually never had one. I’ve never had any pets. Danny: You should get one. Phoenix: Maybe I will. Danny: Do you have any kids? Phoenix: Yeah, I have a daughter. Her name is Aspen, but I call her Annie. Danny: [laughs] That rhymes with my name. Danny and Annie! Phoenix: Yep.

Danny: How old is she? Phoenix: She’s two and a half. Danny: Does she like dogs? Phoenix: She does. One of her uncles has a dog, and she loves him very much. Danny: You should get her a dog of her own. Phoenix: [laughs] Maybe when she’s a little bit older. Joseph: [offscreen] Who’s hungry? Danny: Me!

[oxpogues4lifexo]

Keeping up with the Camerons

TumblrTV

Keeping up with the Camerons

Trailer:

Transcript ( / means cut scene. Bold letters means host)

Five Kooks.

/

“Hello, I’m Ward Cameron.” He says holding a proud grin to the camera as he emphasises a wave.

/

One House.

/

“Hi, I’m Rose.” She speaks looking irritable, not enjoying the experience to come. The thought of her house full of strangers for a week, itching the back of her mind.

/

One week.

/

“You already know, I’m Rafe Cameron.” He gives the camera a wink as a lustful smirk sits on his face, his arms splayed out against the back of the couch.

/

The Cameron’s lives aren’t what you might expect.

/

“Hey, I’m Sarah.” She keeps a symmetrical smile, her face not looking as believable as she thinks; Her body held in closed language, expressing her lack of excitement.

/

Having money doesn’t always buy happiness.

/

“Immm.. Wheezie Cameron!” She stutters, the anxiety of the attention taking over, but managing a sweet smile to mask her nerves as she pats down her dress hem to keep her fingers occupied.

/

At most..

/

“And this is Keeping up with the Camerons!” Each word switching between every member of the family, a smile sat perfectly and proudly on each face.

/

A way out.

//

“The Cameron’s are literal lifesavers. They practically adopted me so of course they mean everything to me.”

/

“They think they can control me like I’m their kid or something.”

/

“They’ve really helped me out money wise. Without them I’d be living on the streets.”

/

“I love seeing her happy. They’ve really changed her life. Me? They hate me haha.”

/

“I think he’s in love with her..”

/

“That pogue hasn’t got half the shit I do what’s her fucking deal?”

“Better dick..”

/

“Sarah!!!”

/

“Oh if you ask me he’s head over heels for her. Don’t tell him I said that..”

/

“Having two extra bodies around makes everything ten times more difficult. I don’t even know how Ward likes them.”

/

“I’m in charge now!”

/

“News flash he ain’t your fucking dad bro!”

/

“We gotta do something about him..”

/

“This needs to stop!”

/

“Turn the fucking cameras off!”

//

Coming to TumblrTV soon..

Check out the Instagram page Here

Looking for the episode list? Look Here

Thank you for reading. Please be patient with the episode releases! ❤️🌹

Taglist:

@viawritesstuff @mymelodylvr @rafeinterlude

Masterlist

[veinsfullofstars]

“What? I never said knighthood was easy.”

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of young Dedede and Meta sitting side by side on a circle of grass, having a conversation about leadership and the future. Transcript below the cut. END ID.)

More childhood friends AU. Guess I’m on a role right now. Too many ideas, not enough time!

Started 10/10/23, finished 10/12/23, updated 03/11/24, updated for color correction 11/02/24. NOTE: This was originally posted on my deleted account on 10/12/23. | Childhood Friends AU Masterpost

---

Transcript:

Panel 1

Dedede: *sitting grumpily* Hmph! Stupid Ms. Squishy and her stupid group projects. Who does she think she is callin’ me a bad leader?

Meta: *gazing lazily skyward* Well, you did kinda make the other kids do all the work for you, so…

Panel 2

Dedede: *holds arms out in exasperation* Hey, it got done, didn’t it? That’s already better than, like, half the class - they didn’t even finish their dioramas! We’d’ve flunked for sure if it weren’t for my excellent direction! And my awesome ideas!

Meta: Didn’t you get a C, anyway?

Panel 3

Dedede: *holds arm up confidently* You’ll see, Meta! Once I’m big and strong enough, I’m gonna be the best leader this town’s ever seen! No - better! I’ll be the King of Dream Land itself!

Meta: *looks uncertain* “King”? Hmm. I dunno, Dee. Sounds like a lot of work. (And you and work don’t exactly get along great…)

Panel 4

Dedede: *arms behind head, eyes shut, confident* Psh! Nah, bein’ King’s easy! All ya gotta do is sit on a throne and look regal all day! It’ll be a breeze, ‘specially since I’ll have you as my first knight.

Meta: *turns sharply to face Dedede, tiny wings perked up in surprise* Wh- Me?? A knight?

Panel 5

Dedede: *smiling and winking at Meta* Uh, duh! I mean, who else would I trust to keep me safe while I rule? Only someone as strong and cool and brave as me, that’s who!

Meta: *smiles and hides bashfully behind his hands, little wings curled around him* O-Oh… Uh, heh. Well, when you put it that way… (He think’s I’m brave?)

Panel 6

Meta: *looks skeptically at Dedede* Wait. If being King’s so easy, then what would I need to keep you safe from?

Dedede: *staring skyward with a straight face* Assassins, mostly.

Panel 7

Meta: *sweating, wings drooping, eyes shrunken in fear* …

[moodymisty]

Part 1 (some needed context)

Author's Note: Part two, as was requested. I need to stop listening to Halsey when I write, I always end up making things too verbose and hyperbolic.

Also pspspsps @rivalriotrenegade you wanted to be tagged in the sequel? Here you go.

Summary: Angron will be leaving soon, and he comes to take in a moment of you beforehand.

Relationships: Angron/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Angron being Angron, Vague descriptions of death violence and gore, General 40kness, The most emotionally stunted man in the galaxy receives an affection, Historitor!Reader is scared but in love horny

Word Count: 1942

Guilliman hadn’t been pleased with the news. 

It had arrived to him via a distressed captain who had been attempting to deal with the issue discretely up until now, but in his attempts to track down their missing historitor, he had found you in Angron’s company. You didn’t seem to be in any sort of severe peril, but the captain expressed his concerns of the World Eater’s Primarch trouncing when he didn’t belong, as well as encroaching on someone who might hold secrets to their legion. 

Guilliman agreed with most of the captain’s concerns, but also hesitated. His hand hovered over half written parchment as ink threatened to drop from the tip of his pen.

Roboute has no desire to pick a fight with another Primarch over one historitor. And if any information ended up in the hands of the World Eaters, he would know exactly where it came from. He would deal with the matter then as swiftly as he would any other traitor.

In the end, he simply instructs the captain to keep watch on the matter. 

The scenario is unique after all; You seem to be no traitor, but now spend almost all of your time in the presence of the World Eaters. Guilliman’s captain had described the scene in a confused manner, wondering as to why the Primarch had taken such a keen, almost obsessive interest in one soul in particular. Roboute thinks he has an inkling why, but his captain simply doesn’t have the experience to understand. Afterall he’s known nothing but battleship halls and bolters, these sorts of thoughts are… Foreign. 

With no solid solution and the threat of a legion wide war with any misstep, The Macragge native elects to largely abandon the matter, and mark any information related to you with a note saying to refer to the relevant paperwork for more information.

—------------------------------

The Conqueror is the first Gloriana class battleship you’ve ever seen in anything but historical documents, and those transcriptions fail to even capture a hint of the overwhelming scale of the massive battleship. The barges you’ve seen are huge, but even they don’t compare to the size of the World Eater’s flagship.

It stays moored in the planet’s upper atmosphere, but it’s impossible not to see it lingering in the sky alongside a myriad of other ships. Servitors and other such are loading heaps of supplies into low orbit cruisers to bring back up to the massive battleship, preparing it for another long journey out into the reaches of Imperium space.

Part of you wonders if Angron expects you to join him. You desperately hope not, but in another odd sort of way, you find it almost saddening to be without him for an extended period of time. You know that there are horrors out there that can rend the mind into pieces, that being behind Terra’s walls is to be afforded a luxury so few in the galaxy will touch that the mere thought of leaving should cast you in an unbearable shame. But it seems so completely ridiculous to say that you’ll miss him. Though the thought still crosses your mind anyhow.

You hear the sounds of his heavy footsteps approaching. You’ve been away from his side most of the day, so you figured it was due time for him to eventually hunt you down. He stands not a step away from you once he finds his hunt for you concluded, looking outward towards the mass of Terran servitors and other workers hauling World Eaters requisitions to where ever they're needed.

“You are staying. If you are wondering.” 

Part of you feels a sense of relief from it. While you might have a fondness for Angron, his World Eaters are significantly less appealing to you. They only tolerate your existence due to the repeated threats of their Primarch. Khârn has also questioned his genefather; The still unfilled crack in his ceramite armor remains as evidence of it. His doubt had hurt, but you can’t help but feel his questioning was justified. 

It’s not as if you can do much for them, beyond what you do for their Primarch. In the eyes of men bred for war, you’re the meaningless byproduct of a planet they protect more because they enjoy the bloodshed of doing so than anything else. Whether you are alive or dead is a meaningless query to them.

You curiously look up at Angron, who is gazing over the massive shipyard.

"You're leaving soon, I suppose." The Primarch lets out an affirmative grunt in response.

It hasn’t been long of you knowing him, and you’re still cautiously testing what territory can be tread, and what very much cannot be. There’s not much of the former, and plenty of the ladder.

You have learned that he seems to enjoy whenever how larger and stronger he is than you- when his prowess in brutal combat, is prominent. That isn’t a hard thing to achieve, given his height you stand at roughly his midsection. The Primarch absolutely towers over you and while he knows it sends fear through you, you fight it. 

As you watch over the railing you suddenly feel a heavy weight on your shoulder, and glancing to your left it’s easy to see the bronze colored gauntlet that now rests there.

You know that whenever he does that, a weight on your body, he’s attempting to take solace in the weird ability you somehow possess. You gently lay a hand over his armored one, fingers brushing over the knicks and scratches of his worn, battered plate. He’s worn it for many years, it shows the story of endless battles and it’s still able to hold so many more.

You don’t know how long it’ll be till you see him again. The warp, it’s, power; Time doesn’t work the same way out there that it does on Terra. You want to give him one last before he leaves, but you hope that it doesn’t ruin the little bit of progress you’ve made with him.

“Can you, bend over? So I can reach you?” 

You don’t know what you had expected for when you hesitantly asked, but you hadn’t expected the Primarch to indulge you. 

His massive weight shifts, landing on his right knee with a loud enough thud, that you swear the marble beneath his knee plate is surely cracked. With him at this height, your hands can touch his face, feeling the way it’s decorated with a million different little scars. Some large- thick, deep cuts like one over his brow, or over his lips. Others are smaller, not visible from so far away but you can feel them under your fingertips.

“Can you tell me how you got some of these one day?”

Angron grunts.

“The arena, most of them. I killed anyone who struck me. They are nothing but sand now.”

Your face drops. Sometimes you forget that Angron has never felt anything but pain his entire life. And it’ll continue, as the nails will never be removed. What little you can do to them only serves to prolong what he feels. Your fingers brush over more of his mauled skin.

One might call it cruel. But you want him to have at least a few moments of peace in his life.

Your fingertips brush along the scarred skin around where the nails dig into his skull, glancing at his expression. It’s softened ever so slightly, but you can see anger still etched into his skin. 

You don’t know how you went from the brain hijacking, heart wrenching terror, to feeling this way. Part of you will still always remain frightened of him; Of the sheer strength he can barely keep in check in the best of moments, that is always boiling beneath the surface. But there’s something that over time has gradually fallen over that terror like a thick heavy curtain draped atop a coffin.

You love him.

In a way that makes you sick to your stomach, churning in a way that has you petrified to be near him, but also away from him.

You can’t say that he’s been kind. You’d be stupid to even assume as such; Even with the key you hold, he’s still him. His grip on you is rough- your body has bruises from shoulder to wrist, he speaks to you in short quips. He uses more words now, but he still will never reflect back whatever you give him. You can see the moments where he tries, but he simply isn’t capable of it. You can’t ask a man who’s known nothing but endless pain and suffering to suddenly not rip and tear every hand that reaches for him. But you can maybe numb it- put bandages over gushing wounds and cover scars, trying to give a modicum of kindness before he’s sunken down too deep into his own abyss. 

You can feel him watch you as your hands touch his face, his brow is tight knit and his armor makes soft metal noises as pieces gently knock against each other when he shifts. The hand that had been on your shoulder has long since moved, it now wraps around your elbow instead; As if he’s debating removing you.

You hold a softness in your eyes reserved for the closeness of family, friends, or lovers. He’s so rarely seen it that recognizing it was nearly impossible for him. But you look at him like that, like he’s the only thing in your world that matters. Your hands touch his face so gently he swears he can’t feel them. Like they would fall right through him as if attempting to touch a hologram.

How? 

Angron doesn't understand why. He isn’t something you can love. There’s just, nothing in him capable of receiving or reciprocating it. He’s done nothing but kill, tear, maim, splatter every wall he’s near with the blood of others or his own. 

To be the object of another’s affection is a laughable concept. He’s a creature, a creation of war; Lorgar likes to call the Primarchs the product of the Emperor’s Mastery, his sons, as much as the phrase makes bile rise in his throat- but Angron knows he’s nothing but a pieced together amalgamation of DNA made to fulfill a purpose. He was not made to feel any of this. 

You kiss him. 

You feel his hot breath on your face, his hands clenching into fists and threatening to dent the ceramite of his armor. He tries to funnel his anger there; His anger at the galaxy, at the Emperor, at the thought that you actually are stupid enough to think there’s something in him worthy of paying this level of gentleness to. He’s never felt things like this before. He’d never wanted to; Because he knows that the pain of it being taken away hurts far worse than the pain of never feeling it to begin with.

His face is rough as he pushes back into you, and you feel pleased to know that you didn’t overstep. He hears your soft sigh as you lean into him, hands still on his face.

But Angron knows there will be a point where you can numb it no longer. The nails are a part of him, an ever growing sea pulling him deeper and deeper into a blood red abyss. It drags him down no matter how hard he fights it, with no hope of safety or even temporary sanctuary. 

When he’s fully under, when he can no longer see ally from foe and your face and touch and voice becomes no more soothing to him than the likes of any incomprehensible field of demons yearning for his blade to slice their hide, as his nails scream and bite and beg for him to taste blood;

He dares to hope only then will someone fulfill his role of taking anger unto themself, and put him out of his torment.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟓   ❛ 𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 ❜   |   LEONOR'S APARTMENT, MID MARCH 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

   ❛  After the meeting with Beatriz, Leonor spent the intervening time at home. Others had eagerly launched themselves back into the world as the mourning period ended. The isolation, the quiet, the total stillness had, at some point, mutated from a comfort to a burden. This hadn’t been the case for Leonor. She reemerged at the appointed time to find everything changed. Yet, the world continued to spin, and that fact left her overwhelmed and overexposed. Retreat to the protective embrace of home required no decision on her part. It wasn’t that her space brought any sort of peace or rest so much as that it was private. Privacy is what she craved; her sanity hinged on it, she quickly came to believe, as soon as the flashing and shouting inherent to public life fell upon her once more. That, too, had changed. Although dulled by the haze that grief had settled on her mind, the new intensity was undeniable. Listless and alienated from what—from who—had once been familiar, Leonor behaved as if it were still deep winter rather than the cusp of spring. She hibernated. Reality intruded nonetheless, springing forth like leaks in a ship.

❧ thank you to @crownsofesha for miss kore whom i love !!!! it’s been months and months but here she is 💅 also, okay, i fibbed, because i remembered that we have one more scene before the party starts (which, actually, i’m excited about), BUT ... i’m so happy to see miss leonor hanging out with a friend, looking hydrated and moisturized, reluctantly makings PLANS !!!!!! (oh, and, i didn't really decide what leonor's playing in the beginning, but let's say it's something like the platters.)

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

TRANSCRIPT:

{Record music playing}

{Door opening, muffled conversation}

[V] My princess, do you—

[L] I’ll take it from here, Vita. Hi Kore.

[K] Brought you something.

[K] It’s not strawberry season, but I know you like them.

[L] Sweet of you. 

[L] You didn’t have to drop by. It’s a workday. I bet you just left the office. We could’ve made plans over the phone.

[K] The plan I have for you needs to be made in person.

[L] {Chuckles} Uh oh.

[L] A bar? Seriously? You hanging out at a sewage plant is more believable.

[K] {Laughs} Okay, that’s why you have to believe me! It’s the best time I’ve had in a while.

[L] I’m not buying it.

[K] I ended up there on a whim. We were on Oceanside Ave, and Sybil got in an argument with a bouncer—shocker—so we were looking for somewhere to spend another hour or two. Do you remember Carlo? He was driving by and took us there. Don’t know why I agreed. So glad I did. We left at sunrise.

[L] Not my scene, Kor. Definitely not right now.

[K] I’m asking you now for a reason. The atmosphere is good. It’s not rowdy, and there’s no normies. It’s invite-only. Cozy. You’ll know half the people who party there. It’s artsy, in a way. Just one time.

[L] {Sighs.}

[L] We’d be sorting through Mama’s things at the estate the morning after, if I went with you.

[K] Kind of bitchy to save that excuse for last—can’t argue with it!

{Leonor chuckles}

[L] Not what I meant. It feels like a sign. I’ll give it a chance. Even if I don’t like the place, it’ll be good to see everyone again before I have to go—you know, do that.

[K] I agree. And I promise you’re going to have a good time.

[L] A Kore promise? That’s legally binding. Are you sure?

[K] I’m offended you have to ask.

[trans-duckling]

KakaGai Week 2024: Lost words in transcription

Words: 2,207 Pairing: KakaGai Promt: Books A/N: Sorry if you find grammar mistakes, I barely slept today so I'm fairly sure it won't be perfect ^^"

Kakashi’s day began as any other, with a bed full of dogs in the place where his husband should be. That was about right, as Gai still went out at sunrise to train, even if the exercises had to be lighter at almost sixty years old.

Decided to not leave the bedroom until he had his morning kiss, he turned to the side to sink his hands in dog fur. Judging by the tact of it, that morning it was Uhei who had managed to press himself against the Hatake’s side, while the rest had to conform with any other space available, which with nine dogs in total was not a lot.

Years had not only caught up with Gai and him, but also his ninken. They were all retired now —his initial team, at least— and enjoyed a calm life. He knew their joints were getting old; walks had to be shorter and some of them needed help to go back home from time to time. Kakashi tried not to think much about it.

The front door made a strained noise as it was opened and then closed, probably indicating it required some oil in its joints as well. Knowing what was coming next, the Hatake hugged Uhei with his arms and tried to put on a sad face while facing the entrance to the room.

“Rival!” his husband exclaimed loudly. “You’re still in bed?”

It had become some kind of ritual between them. Gai would leave for training and Kakashi wouldn’t get up until he was back and kissed him good morning. The same question was asked every day, and every day the scene repeated itself. It was a rather enjoyable routine.

“I’m still waiting” he pouted.

With a huff, he heard his husband approaching the bed and sensed him bending forwards while avoiding the ninken just to kiss him a second after. They both were in need of a shave, the short hairs on their faces brushing against each other as lips met. It took Uhei about a minute to get tired of being sandwiched in between them and lift his head to separate their mouths.

“Ugh, Uhei, if you wanted a kiss you just had to said so” the Hatake complained even if smiling.

“What I needed was air, boss.”

With the dog still in his arms, Kakashi used the opportunity to stick his tongue out and lick him from neck to head, at which Uhei responded by battling out of his hold.

“I hate you, boss” the ninken said while trying unsuccessfully to remove his saliva with a paw. “I’m far from a puppy for you to do that.”

“He’s also too human to do that” Gai added.

“Hey, don’t insult me!” Kakashi protested.

He was sure his husband rolled his eyes.

“Ok, time for breakfast” the man said a moment after. “I have a small present for you, rival, so you better hurry up.”

“Ooh, so a present, eh?” the Hatake playfully commented, patting the mattress to grab Gai’s hand and bring him down into another kiss. “This is going to be a fun meal, then.”

“Ugh, boss, we’re still here” Uhei complained, jumping off the bed.

“It’s not that kind of present, rival” his husband laughed as his weight left the mattress as well. “Come on, they’re in the living room. I’ll go and heat up some food and you can take them afterwards, ok?”

Now curious about what that was about, the Hatake nodded. As he heard the other man’s steps abandoning their bedroom, he started to nudge his other dogs to wake them up. Half of them were deaf and the others were on their way to become it, so the majority of the time they didn’t wake up just by Gai and him talking over them.

“Guys, breakfast is going to be ready soon” he said as they began to move a bit. Then, he added louder. “Don’t you want to eat?”

That made it. The few ones that still heard something shook their bodies and started to wail their tails, which quickly told the others what magical word had been mentioned. In about a three minutes, once Kakashi had pet each and one of them, the ninken jumped off the bed and disappeared towards the kitchen. All except one.

Endal had been his latest addition to the pack just a few years ago, back when he was a puppy uncapable of standing up on his four legs. His parents had rejected him, so both Kakashi and Gai had become his family together with the other dogs. In exchange, Endal decided to guide him once the Hatake started to lose his sight about a year and a half ago.

Choroideremia. A strange genetic disease that should have taken his eyes’ functionality back when he was twenty years old, but that for some reason had decided to remain latent until way later in his life. A lucky bastard, was what Sakura had called him after the diagnosis.

It had been an adjustment, especially because the loss of his sight was not something that happened from one day to another, but rather a progressive disease. At the beginning, he stopped being able to see when it was dark. Then, small spots started to appear in his visual field and, finally, tunnel vision. At that point, Kakashi could barely see a few centimeters circle ahead of him and very blurry. Medically, he was considered blind.

A lot of changes had to be made in his and Gai’s lives to accommodate the new situation, but they pulled through, just as they had done with everything before that. They hadn’t been walking on a flower field until then, after all. And besides, Endal was of great help. At home, Kakashi rarely needed help to move around, things never changing positions and dogs and tortoises either moving away if he walked towards them or advising of their presence. Outside was a completely different story.

Konoha was a very busy city now, which meant a lot of people, smells and noises that made Kakashi want to stay at home for the rest of his life. Unfortunately, neither Gai, his dogs or his friends would let him. Endal didn’t walk attached to a leash as other guide-dogs did, mostly because he was not only a dog, but also a shinobi and had the ability to talk. Wherever they went, he moved brushing against the Hatake’s left leg, head under his hand. With simple movements, he was able to indicate him if there was any danger or situation ahead of them, and if not he could simply tell him so. They made quite a good team, and so far Kakashi hadn’t suffered any kind of accident while being guided by him.

“You can go with the rest, Endal” he indicated with a pet over the dog’s head. “I’ll be right behind you.”

The ninken didn’t need to be told twice, his paws making a funny noise against the wooden floor as he left the bedroom. Once alone, the Hatake put on some clothes —it was summer and he refused to wear nothing more than his underwear— and passed through the bathroom before reaching the kitchen.

It smelled like bacon and eggs, with made him realize how hungry he was as he took his seat at the table, waiting for Gai to serve him a plate. It tasted delicious with his coffee, which helped to camouflage the disgusting flavor of the pills he had to take for his anxiety and other age-related problems. As always, his few leftovers were fed to his ninken, even if they had already had their breakfasts.

“And you complain if anyone else does the same” Gai chuckled.

“I cannot say ‘no’ to those puppy eyes.”

He knew his husband rolled his eyes at that. But, hey, even if he could only see his dogs’ expressions in his imagination now, it didn’t mean he was unaffected!

As Gai finished his way larger breakfast, Kakashi started to clean the pans and dirty dishes, already an expert at it even if blind. The last item that joined the sink made it in company of a couple of hands that latched themselves around his waist. When a soft kiss was pressed against the wrinkled skin in his neck, he let out a happy sigh.

“Is this my present?” he asked as he finished cleaning the last mug. “Because I’m ready to unwrap it.”

“We’re still here, boss!” Pakkun complained this time.

Just as any other good owner would do, Kakashi tried to shoo him away with his foot, even when he didn’t know where exactly the grumpy pug was. Gai, however, let go of his waist while laughing, grabbing one of his hands instead to pull him towards the living room. Once there, they sat around the wooden table they only used when having guests over. Not wanting to appear too interested in the presents —even if he was rather curious at that point—, he avoided taunting the surface for them.

“Here, rival” his husband said after a bit, pushing something against his hands. “Hope you like them.”

There was no paper wrapped around the gifts, and after a few second of touching them Kakashi realized they were books. The size and thickness felt similar to those that they had at home; pocket size, perfect for their travels.

“Should I worry about you getting dementia, Gai?” he joked. “Or did you just simply forget about…”

The Hatake passed a hand over his eyes.

“Very funny, rival, but don’t be stupid” his husband huffed, hitting his arm softly.

“Ok, then, new books for you to read me, right? What are they about?”

“Why don’t you tell me, rival?”

“Ah… I feel like we need to go back to my first question” Kakashi commented with a frown.

A part of him started to worry for real at the circular conversation that seemed to be taking place, but his brain stopped dead when his fingers touched a familiar set of bumpy circles. He had been playfully touching the books up until that moment, so he tracked back the part of the cover he had just passed his fingers over and realized that there was something written in there. Something he could understand because it was in braille.

His confused expression changed into a surprised one. Focused now on the task, he accommodated the book in the right position and read the title, eyes wide upon understanding what it said.

“B-But this is…” he mumbled, opening the book to confirm that, indeed, all the pages were written in braille. “How? Only a few books have been translated yet, and I’m sure Icha Icha Paradise is not one of them.”

“Well, it was not easy, that for sure, but I made it work” Gai chuckled. “Now you can read your favorite books again without my assistance, dear husband.”

“W-Wait, you…? But, all of them?” he gasped, checking that the three novels were in fact fully translated to braille under his hands. “How?”

It was the first time in years that he felt lost for words, too many emotions running through his body. There was, however, one that surpassed any other: adoration.

“Do you remember when I told you I needed to use some of our money to repair my electrical orthosis? Well… I lied” his husband admitted, voice slightly nervous. “I, uh, used that money to buy a braille typewriter. Here, let me bring it to you.”

Kakashi opened his mouth to say something, but nothing managed to get out. In the time he required to recover normal brain functioning, Gai had come back with a heavy machine, leaving it in front of the books he had transcribed. Before he could move his hands away, the Hatake grabbed them to feel his fingertips. They were rough, more than usual, and he could even feel some cuts probably due to all the movement of the paper while preparing the novels.

“You did all this, in a week?” he asked, pressing his husband’s hands against him. “For me?”

“I would do anything for you, rival” the other man answered with complete honesty. “Even transcribing your pornographic books by hand.”

That did it. Kakashi pulled him in for a kiss, mouths colliding loudly. Gai’s response was immediate, his body moving to fit the new position and hands leaving his to attach around the Hatake’s neck as their tongues met each other. He blamed the sappiness of old age for the wetness in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t have” he murmured against his husband’s lips. “This machine is very expensive, and our travels…”

“Oh, so it is fine to use our money for my orthosis, but not for something that would make your life easier?” Gai intervened with a light tone. “That doesn’t sound fair, rival.”

Kakashi wanted to protest some more, but the other man kissed him again.

“I don’t accept complains, I’m sorry.”

The Hatake chuckled against his husband’s mouth, shaking his head and sighing happily. Then, he moved his arms to pick Gai up and started to walk towards their bedroom.

“Well, then I’ll show you my gratitude in an appropriate way, rival.”

[igotsnothing]

Beginning/Previous/Next 🐯🥭🐠🌅🪷

Beautiful lot build by @pandorasims4

Musical reference: 🎧

Happy New Year, friends! A new year, a new obsession story! I keep finding myself playing in Tomarang all the time: it's beautiful and I love it, and this story has been in the works (writing, setting up) pretty much since the day after the expansion dropped. It owes its existence to not just my enjoyment of Tomarang, but because a conversation with a friend got me thinking: my friend claimed that writing stories about how a couple meets and gets together is far more entertaining than writing stories about that same couple once they are together. I disagree! This is my formal protest! 😊

Transcript:

Lee: So…Thoughts? Henry: Can we even afford this place? It’s huge! Lee: Believe it or not, it’s half the price of our one-bedroom in San Sequoia. Henry: Are you sure? I won’t have to sell my body to the night to support my cute husband through medical school?

Lee: No, because your cute husband is also your smart husband and got a full scholarship. Henry: Then, can you hire me for my salacious services anyway?… Lee: Henry. Focus. Auntie Mei will be here with the keys any minute. If you don’t like it, I’ll tell her we’re ready to see the next place. Henry: What do you think? Do you like it?

Lee: I do. I like it a lot. It reminds me of my grandparents’ house. Lots of happy memories. Henry: Was that in the countryside? Lee: Yeah. The house is no longer there, but I’d love to take you to visit the village sometime.

Mei: Hi, boys! Lee: Hi, Auntie! Mei: I’m sorry I’m a bit late! I was with a client over in Koh Sahpa and traffic on the bridge was so slow!

Henry: Hi Mei! I haven’t seen you since the wedding! Mei: So nice to see you too! You had an easy trip? Henry: Not too bad! Mei: And is Lee taking good care of you? You eating enough? Lee: Oh my god, Auntie. It hasn’t even been five minutes…

Mei: This place is perfect. It’s a fifteen-minute walk to uni for you. And Henry, you can take the 71 bus to work; only two or three stops! Lee: This place…the tiles on the floor. High ceilings. Big windows… Flowers everywhere…It all reminds me so much of Grandma’s house.

Mei: I thought so too, sweetie. Your uncle suggested I show you an apartment on Segara Drive, but I knew you’d like this much more. It’s old-fashioned: no fancy gym, pool, or central air. It’s not in a flashy spot…But it’s real Tomarani living, in an authentic neighborhood, near our family. Besides, the owner is VERY motivated to sell !

Lee: Uh-oh…What’s the story behind that? Mei: Nothing bad! This is where Gugi Nguyen would secretly rendezvous with Anita Tran, away from the paparazzi. Lee: Who are they? Mei: Famous soap opera actors! They got married and don’t need this house anymore. Henry: Babe! That’s just like our story, minus the celebrity stuff! Lee: Pfff!

[Voices coming from downstairs, speaking excitedly in Tomarani.]

Henry: This is really happening. We’re here! Just a few days ago we were in San Sequoia… Now? This is going to be home. And this view? This could be our view. Every day. Wow!

[breakerwhiskey]

100 - ONE HUNDRED

Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey.

Transcript under the cut. For more episodes, click here.

[click, static]

“Dear Harry,

Today I saw the Grand Canyon. And it was more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. The picture on this postcard doesn’t do it—“

And then my pen exploded, so there’s a big ink splatter on half the card now. Not a lot of room left to write. But if there were, I guess I’d say…

[click, static]

“The picture on this postcard doesn’t do it justice. The colors are what’s really hard to capture—there are too many of them for me to name. But you’d find them on your palette by taking four colors and blending them in various ways to get a dozen more. I never understood how you did that. How you started with a few bright tones and discovered every shade between that existed. How you did it so expertly, without any hesitation.

You rarely hesitate. It’s one of the things I envy about you. It’s one of the things that made you so good at your job. You didn’t rush, you were always so intentional and careful and sure of yourself. And I didn’t hesitate on the job either, but in other things…

The only time I saw you hesitate when it mattered was—

Well, I guess the important thing was that I didn’t hesitate.

Did you…did you try to reach me? Did you get another radio? Are you calling out? Can you hear this somehow?

What—

[click, static]

What did you want? Are you okay? Are you just bored? Do you want to talk to me specifically or are you just lonely?

Never mind. I’m not sure I want the answer to that question even if you could reply.

I hope you’re okay at least. I trust that you are. You can take care of yourself. And you don’t need me for anything, you made that very clear.”

[click, static]

I guess all of that wouldn’t really fit on a postcard.

Probably for the best.

[click, static]

[ehlnofay]

49 - Arabella :')

49: nightfall

This had better work – Arabella is using up good vellums for this, and they’re not cheap.

She’s crouched on the hall’s smooth stone floor, half-listening to the soft crackling of the hearth and the rattling of pots and pans, all her papers spread out in unruly glory before her, half-covered with scribbled ink. The concept, she’s quite sure, is sound; it’s figuring out how to properly execute it that gives her trouble. She’s no scholar. She’d probably qualify more as a hobbyist. The things she has in mind would doubtless be a bit beyond her on a good day – trying to craft them herself is likely, logically, an exercise in futility. Arabella does not do things that are futile.

She traces her finger down the side of a page – a scribbled transcription of a description of an illusion spell that’s well beyond her grasp, broken down as best she can make it into its bare components. She doesn’t need all of it; almost the whole first half can be thrown away, and she can adapt the second half to her foundation. If she can figure out how, of course – what she can do is not a spell, so grafting one onto it is a complicated process. It’s all very finicky.

It's a problem to circumvent. Arabella loves those.

It takes her a moment to realise the sound of the fire has died down. It’s her only warning before  Karliah’s voice, carried on footsteps that cannot make noise unless she tries, comes down like a thunderclap. “Arabella.”

“Karliah,” she replies brightly, twisting her head up to meet her eye. It’s a strange angle; she can see up her nose, this way. Karliah raises a brow. She only carries one bowl. Arabella asks, “You didn’t make me anything?”

“You can cook for yourself,” Karliah says. Arabella pouts. “Arabella, really? A gift from a Daedric Prince isn’t enough for you?”

(Arabella stepped onto that half moon and gained the ability to make herself unrecognisable – to wipe herself clean from the slate of others’ minds, just for a little bit. There have been times in her life when she would have killed for that ability. There are times in her life now when she’s sure it will come in handy. But why stop there? Total erasure doesn’t have to be an end in itself. It’s fresh ground for building.)

Arabella shrugs, turns back to the mess of her papers. “It’s not a gift if I paid for it,” she replies, “which I did, and will continue to do. This is my end of the bargain. I’ll use it as I see fit.”

She can positively hear Karliah’s raised eyebrow as she says, “How irreverent of you.”

She’s never really been one for reverence. Pledging herself to a deity that bestows her bounties as business transactions is not likely to change that. 

Arabella shrugs again. “Besides,” she says, flippant, “It’s a fun challenge.”

“Is it.” Karliah’s trousers rustle as she shifts her weight. “You came here to test it on me, didn’t you?”

“Only partly,” Arabella admits, smiling, and waves her down.

Karliah sits. She’s wearing her lazy tunic, the one with the stitches drooping at the hem and flowers embroidered about the cuffs. Soup dribbles down the edge of the bowl as she adjusts her position. It’s green. She bends to lick it off her knuckles, which kind of spoils her stern demeanour.

“Not really, actually,” Arabella amends. “It’s not nearly ready for testing. I might need to go up north to get a refresher on some of these ideas, because spellcraft is, surprisingly, quite hard.”

Karliah sets the bowl with a clink on the stone floor. “You know, I never pegged you for an academic.”

“Oh, I’m not.’ Arabella pinches a page between finger and thumb. “I don’t have the temperament for it.” Study requires patience; patience makes Arabella feel like crawling out of her own skin. If she stays still for too long she starts spitting sparks. “That’s rather the problem, isn’t it? This would be a lot easier if I knew what I was doing.”

“Which is altering Nocturnal’s gift,” Karliah says, patient, “so that you can make people think that they know you. Even though the point of yours is to make sure they don’t.”

She sips a spoonful of her bright green soup.

Arabella tips her head back and says, “The thing about illusion magic –”

“You’re workshopping on me during dinner?”

“Well, it’s not my dinner – abominable treatment of your guests, by the way, I can’t believe you didn’t give me anything – the thing is that it can’t take. Illusions can’t enforce an absence, they can only impose a presence. You can’t take away someone’s hearing, you can only impose a space of silence. You can’t make someone forget, you can only replace a memory. The mind doesn’t respond well to a vacuum. The rules of magic don’t allow for it. All spells can do is cover up the truth.” Karliah isn’t wearing her hood; her hair is down. It’s always startling to see, somehow; makes her whole face look different. She keeps placidly sitting her soup. Arabella taps at one of her vellums. “What I can do – it takes. Which is, I understand, magically unprecedented, but also very jarring for anyone who witnesses – like how you tried to kill me earlier, when I –”

“I thought you were a stranger in Nightingale Hall,” Karliah says, “and I wasn’t going to kill you.”

“You found it off-putting,” Arabella insists, “on some level, because the mind doesn’t like a vacuum. But when I figure this out – I could layer spells on top. Oh, yes, I’m supposed to be here – oh, yes, we’re dear friends – all that sort of thing. And it would be almost impossible to see through if I linked them right because there would be no truth to cover up! Just a vacuum! And the mind would take almost anything over a vacuum.”

Karliah looks at her, unblinking. “You’d be a menace,” she says.

Arabella smiles. “Am I not already?”

There is a space of silence, for a moment. Karliah’s spoon clanks against her bowl. Arabella can hear the water gently running in the other room, the soft creaking of the stone, the airy breath of the low-burning hearth. Nightingale Hall is very quiet, and very full of ghosts.

“So,” Karliah says, “are you just here to tell me your magic ideas and criticise my hosting, or was there something else?”

Arabella tips her head to look her in the murex-purple eye. Lightly, she says, “You never come into town.”

Karliah holds her gaze. “I’m fine here,” she says.

Arabella shrugs. “I know.”

There is a pause.

Karliah sighs. “I think we’ve got some smoked fish strung up somewhere,” she says. “I’ll get it for you.”

Arabella presses tongue to unsmiling teeth. “Thank you,” she says primly, and jabs a finger at her higgledy-piggledy stack of vellums. “This is hard work.”

Outside, beyond the rock walls of the hall, night falls. The moons rise, a dim red half-moon and a narrow crescent, to their place in the star-spattered sky.

[gaybroons]

via @NHLbruins on Twitter

Transcript:

(To Lucic) > did you ever believe this guy would be captain?

Marchand: [laugh] no!

Lucic: [laugh] I think if you told me that, y’know, when he was a rookie, I think I speak for most guys, everyone wouldn’t believe it. But to see him grow as a player and as a person, I think he definitely deserves it and I couldn’t be happier for him. I think he’s going to lead us the right way.

Marchand: now we know that looch is a liar!

[they both laugh]

> does it feel good getting closer to opening night after three weeks of training camp, the real deal, in a couple of days?

Marchand: yeah. You know the time in camp starts dragging on a little bit, you know, you start looking forward to the season starting and your team starts to shape up. The first half of camp y’know the group is split— [turns to Lucic] I think we were kinda joking— it’s almost two weeks before we even skated together. So you start getting excited when-when the group comes together and they’re always down, you’re able to start building, y’know, the foundation of the season so yeah we’re looking forward to—and today was a great practice; everyone was dialed in, competed hard and, y’know, you can see the intensity rise up and the guys were excited for Wednesday so, looking forward to it.

> [inaudible question asking about the retirement of the old core, Chara, Krejci, Bergy, and now that him, Pasta, and McAvoy are the new core(??)]

Marchand: yeah, yeah for sure so, with Looch coming back, it kinda lessens that [inaudible] of some of those guys leaving. Y’know looch came up in that era—in that culture that was built early on and y’know the more guys we can have around that can salvage that and y’know, lead the way, it helps a lot. But they brought some guys in who’d been around and, y’know you can’t— you never count out that experience in the room when you go through adversity and, y’know, when you go through tough times so, y’know the younger guys have taken big steps in the past couple of years and we expect them to do that again this year. But there’ll be other guys who step up and start leading in different ways too so, I’ll be excited to see who does that.

> [inaudible] some obligation to play the role of ambassador— not just on the ice but also answering questions about different bruins throughout the years— some of which no longer living?

Marchand: uhh. I mean. I don’t feel pressured to do that by any means but we’re all happy to do that. To be part of this organization is a really— a really big honor, when you see the guys that’d come through and built the culture, built the history here, y’know you love to be part of that, you love it talk about it and y’know we don’t forget about those guys; they built the road that we walk on today so, y’know we love giving the previous players a ton of credit and— like I said the amount of pride that we have to wear this jersey and walk in this room everyday— we’ll do whatever the team needs us to do.

[snowberrydream]

Käärijä @ Puoli seitsemän - talk show 26.4.2023

Here is an english translation/transcript of Käärijä’s appearance on Finnish talk show Puoli seitsemän for the enjoyment of all the non-finnish Käärijä & Eurovision fans. I have no clue how to screenrecord videos or put subtitles on them, but I can offer you a written translation :D (if someone has access to the video and can do that, feel free to use the translation if you want to, just tag me if you do, please). If there’s anything confusing or weird, comment or message me and I’ll try to clarify it 

So here it goes, enjoy!

Käärijä @ Puoli seitsemän - talk show 26.4.2023

(hosts talking about generic beginning-of-the-show-stuff, introducing Käärijä)

host1: Today we are having a party, holding onto pina coladas with both hands (handing out drinks). These are non-alcoholic, I assume it’s fine by you?

Käärijä: Absolutely. It’s probably for the better. This time.

host2: And it’s tasty! You can try both of them.

K: Is this green one also a pina colada? (tastes)

hosts: Ummmm (unsure noises) we are also curious to know (laugh) But hey, glad you could come amidst all the hustle! You’ve been all over like a … a pina colada.

K: (sipping his drinks) (chuckles at the metaphor). Exactly. Happy to be here, thank you for inviting me. And amazing that we have these [pina coladas] here. I actually haven’t really drunk these that much, so thank you for this!

H1: They’ve gotten a lot more popular lately, the sales have gotten up. Have you heard about that?

K: Well yeah, yeah I’ve been told that there has been some empty shelves.

H1: Green yarns sold-out, green fabrics sold-out, (H2: green nailpolish too), pina coladas…

K: It’s indeed quite a circus that I’ve managed to create, but well, (shrugs) why not.

H2: And this is only the beginning, isn’t it?

K: That’s what I’m a bit scared of, really (laughs). That what else will people come up with?

H2: Right now you surely don’t have time for days-off, but when you do get to relax a bit, what do you like to do?

K: I think I’ll just snuggle underneath my Formula1 -sheets, take a little nap and think about absolutely nothing, if one is really able to do that. Or watch some series or listen to some relaxing music. But probably just be in silence.

H1: Yeah, there was a couple moments before the broadcast started, like a half a minute of quiet in the studio. You had like this serene smile on your face.

K: Yeah, I was enjoying that (laughs). I mean I of course like talking with you, too. But, when you are constantly surrounded by thousands of people, at some point it just starts to feel like you need a bit of your own space. As much as we humans are pack animals [=like and need others], too much is too much.

H2: (agreeing hums) Do you know how to take that own space when you need it?

K: Not always. Though I’ve been trying to learn to say no to things. I used to be really bad at doing that, worrying that what if I’ll upset someone etc. But now I’ve been learning, also because of this [Eurovision] that sometimes it’s just …Too bad, I just can’t do that now. That I just need to take that space (moment of realization) …And yet I still don’t have it (laughs). But, on the other hand, some things you just have to get done, and then you’ll take care of those. So… Let’s just hope that everything will go smoothly.

H1: The contest itself is about two and a half weeks away, but there has already been pre-parties all over Europe, getting people into the Eurovision spirit.

H2: Yes, let’s see how it was in London about a week ago. (cue a clip of Käärijä’s performance & fan interactions from London, Cha Cha Cha playing in the background)

(back to studio, hosts and Käärijä jumping and dancing before sitting down again)

hosts: You just can’t stay still while listening to that.

K: Even I joined in too.

H2: So much for resting.

K: Yeah, there it goes again (laughs). When I could’ve just been like (slouches on the sofa) for once.

H1: It happens to everyone! It just pulls you in, it’s such a banger.

K: Yeah, it’s quite enegetic. Though I’ve also tried to not listen to it a little bit, so that it doesn’t become completely (gun to the head -gestures). But I hear it all the time anyway. Everywhere (flailing hands).

H2: So, pre-parties all over Europe. How did you feel about those?

K: Damn good, foremost. It was so amazing to see people singing along to a finnish song. Hadn’t really even imagined that something like that could happen. Met wonderful people there, such amazing personalities, and the mood was great. It really felt like a family, everyone cheering for each other and no like, any disturbances, like what could sometimes happen in an ordinary gig, you know. Really great. I’m glad I went. At first I thought that I wouldn’t go at all (H2: to Eurovision, or…?) – No, no! I meant the pre-parties (H2: Ah, yes) so that I could rest, because they can be quite …demanding. Lots of interviews, travelling, waiting around and so on… And then during Madrid trip I also got sunburnt …roasted my skin a little (laughs) Oh well, I’ll have a bit of a tan now, no burns any longer. But overall it was really good, though also tough.

H1: So you keep a professional attitude about it all? Like, ’this is work, not partying, focus on the job’?

K: Keep focus on the job, yeah. You always aim for a win. Of course you must also remember to enjoy the experience, but the attitude is still like ”See you at the Market Square [= for victory celebrations], all of Finland”. I’d feel so quilty if I’d be just drinking and partying around amid all this, I might never forgive myself.

H2: People have been fitting the victor’s mantle on you [=predicting him to win] already. And on Sweden’s Loreen, whom we saw briefly in the video clip. How do you feel about the pressure of being a fan favorite?

K: I don’t really take pressure about it. In a way. I mean of course I feel like …I have that pressure, but, I haven’t really understood it, It hasn’t quite sunk in yet, because I’m just running from one place to another all the time. I haven’t had time to be stressed about the H-hour, because there is still so much happening before that. I don’t think that quite a panic alarm moment (slamming gesture) will happen before the contest, but some level of nervousness will probably still hit me, as it did in the UMK. But the moment you get on the stage, it’s quite an easy case from there on, in the end.

H1: Right. But hey, here we are, holding on to our drinks with both hands, but you’d actually need a third one, as you have also a cup of tea there in front of you.

K: Yes, and also a cup of water on top of that.

H1: For some voice maintenance, right?

K: Yes, as you can probably hear, my voice has taken some damage [he is sounding a little hoarse occasionally] but let’s hope it’ll get better before the contest. You wouldn’t want to attend with a voice like this.

H1: Yeah, but let’s not be too worried for now, as there is still time left.

K: Luckily there is. And we’ll make some more if we have to.

H2: Right. So, you’ll leave on Sunday?

K: On Sunday, yes. You all will be here celebrating May Day, while I’ll be packing my funnel cakes and mead with me and taking off to Liverpool.

H1: The fan phenomenon has caught everyone by surprise. It’s… I assume it has surprised you, surely it has surprised all of Finland, maybe Europe too. I mean, it’s massive!

K: Right. It’s awesome. It’s kinda funny, all the things this has lead into and like, the kind of people that have sent me messages. Like, world-class artists even from abroad and so on. It’s strange how at some point nothing feels like anything anymore. I mean, when you don’t have time to enjoy it, like getting good news about one thing, because another thing is already happening right after. And then comes another thing, and another and another and another. Because every day there is something new, cool and fun happening to me at the moment. I haven’t had time… - I’ve really had no time to properly process any of what I’ve been given. I’ve just, gone somewhere to do stuff and then been off to the next place already and been like ’ok you do that I do this’ (delegating gestures) and so on. I hope that at some point I’ll get some time to think about all that has happened. Of course I’ve enjoyed this, but…maybe not in a way that people might assume? It hasn’t been just living on cloud nine all the time, for real. Even though this is what I’ve wanted, and wanted to get my music out there here in Finland, and, now it seems to be happening in Europe and elsewhere too, so yeah…

H2: Fans have been running after you and so on… Apparently there has been some extreme reactions even? Someone had…?

K: Yeah, one person fainted.

H1: Where did this happen?

K: In Madrid (H2: so they saw you?). Yes. And… They all behaved really well, like, in Finland people just take pics and whisper to each other, but there – they’ll run after you. It’s really a shocking feeling when you step out the door and everyone starts screaming and (running gesture) they are running and then we are running (laughs). But, it’s not like …If you said no to something that they asked for, they were really respectful and nice about it [despite the enthusiasm].

H2: So, someone just saw you and just, simply couldn’t handle the shock?

K: Yeeahh. Though, sometimes I can barely handle it either, when I see myself in the mirror (laughs) (hosts laughing).

H1: The Käärijä hype is intensifying indeed. But, let’s add to that a bit more with the following clip.

(Videoclip about a family of real Käärijä superfans, where the mom had made Käärijä’s Cha Cha Cha costumes for her three sons and even the family dogs. the boys are dancing and talking about how much they like Käärijä)

H1: They are really rooting for you.

H2: Aww, such sweet boys.

K: So cool.

H2: They really got it down, dance moves and all.

K: Yeah, I’m speechless, honestly. Like, amidst all this there’s little time to pay attention to what is happening around you in the world. And then there’s kids like that… It’s truly amazing thing, thank you to them, really. All the best to them. And the parents too, truly tipping my hat to them for like, for doing all that for the kids. I remember back when I played ice hockey, it was my parents made it happen for me too, taking care of things so that I got to play. And now those boys want to be Käärijäs. Just, lots of love to the whole family. [He seemed to be quite touched about this clip. Either that or he just happens to struggle with his voice a bit right then, sounding a little quivering for a sec]  

H1: Exactly. So. Käärijä is Jere and Jere is Käärijä, is that the way it goes? Are you still just Jere for those closest to you, or is everyone calling you Käärijä by now?

K: Ahhh, well, mom is calling me Käärijä now (H2: okay). I’ve had to sometimes tell her to stop it already, or that else I’ll adopt myself into a new family to have someone who calls me Jere (laughs). Just kidding, really, she’s just proud and excited about all this. But I hear it a lot, this Käärijä stuff. It can get a little dull, because sometimes you’d just like to forget this work stuff, when you are at home etc. and talk about other things than Käärijä and Cha Cha Cha and music. Sometimes it makes me wonder like, …what have I gotten myself into?

H2: A phenomenon has been born, indeed. Well,  we asked for you to bring some pics from your home album, and you brought these two (pics of him as a kid behind a drum kit and him in his late teens wearing hospital pj’s appear on the screen). There they are… You could tell us a little about them yourself.  (H1: a little drummer boy). A little rookie instrumentalist there. A little drummer boy, yes.

K: (looking at the pic) Yeah, I’ve enjoyed banging drums since I was little. My brother played guitar and we watched some Fröbelin Palikat [a finnish kid’s music band], used kettles as drums and and, brother had this weird thingy as a guitar.  Then at some point I got my own drums, started drum lessons and eventually even taught my classmates at school how to play. My teacher assigned that task for me. But that career didn’t last, in the end. Wasn’t quite that interested in drums after all, I guess. But that’s where my sense of rhythm and all comes, surely. And anyway, where would you put those things in a small flat? Banging them in some apartment building, you’ll get evicted in a second. But, drums are still close to my heart and whenever I get the chance I do grab the sticks and see if I’m still any good at playing them.

H1: And then, how about the second pic (of him in a hospital cafeteria or some common area, sitting by a table filling lottery coupons)

K: Right, that’s an interesting one. I got sick with Colitis ulcerosa, I think that was the latin name for it. And well, I think that was taken around the time it was at it’s worst.

H2: So it’s a bowel disease?

K: Yes, my entire colon got inflamed eventually and I ended up needing an emergency operation to remove it quickly, to prevent the inflammation from spreading to other parts of the body. I was hanging by a thread, honestly. I wasn’t even going to go [to the hospital] at first, but dad forced me and dragged me in there. Packed up some The Simpsons movies and my pillow and was like ’we are going now, son’ and… yeah. Honestly the shittiest time of my life, not wishing that for anyone. But it did also make me grow a lot as a person, and I wouldn’t change anything for myself, I’m totally okay with this. I’m alive, in the situation that I’m in now, and it changed who I am. Of course I have things where to improve even now, but it took me forward at the time, regarding my values and such, I think I’m in quite a good place now. (back to describing the pic) I went to place some bets [the lottery coupons] to pass time, there wasn’t anything else to do. Friends or my brother sometimes came to watch ice hockey from TV with me while I was laying in the hospital.

H2: You are wearing hospital clothes in the pic. Did you spend long periods of time in there?

K: I was there for like two weeks at a time. Went there every now and then, had an IV drip and laid there, had some medication and such. But in the end the treatments didn’t work and had to have the surgery, remove the colon completely. So, yeah. But, it’s a thing that happened to me and one just has to learn – and I have learned – to live with it. It won’t destroy your world if a thing like that does happen, on the contrary, it can open some new doors, that’s how I try to view it. But again, wouldn’t wish that for anyone, or anything like it. Yeah. That was a tough time. Made a young guy think about stuff, how others are out there partying, going to festivals and all that, and I didn’t get to have that. It went on for about a year, and towards the end I just laid in bed. I couldn’t go anywhere because I’d be just shitting blood in my pants right away etc. I was just, bumping into doors, barely able to stay on my feet, so…

H2: And a year is a long time in a young person’s life.

K: It was, yes. I had to drop everything. All the sports I did back then. I was really into going to the gym at the time, had certain goals I wanted to achieve and was working towards them. They aren’t important any longer, guess they weren’t even back then, really, but it did hit me hard at the time, when I lost 10 kg, from that kind of body (H2: woah). I weighed 49 kg at the worst point, hemoglobin about 54, or 56.

H2: Rough numbers, truly.

K: Yeah, it wasn’t healthy at all, I was pale as a sheet. In that pic I’m actually still looking surprisingly fresh. Yeah, I was just skin and bones.

H1: And does the disease still affect your life today?

K: Well, of course in the way that I have to go to the bathroom more often, 7 or 8 times a day on average. But I’m used to it, it’s not an issue for me. I can hold it in – so, rest easy there on the other side of the camera, no need to worry that something might happen mid-performance …Well let’s knock on wood just in case – But otherwise, not really… well, I can’t eat spicy food anymore. That will surely destroy my mood and the pipes, so to speak. So there are some things, but I’ve lived with this for so long already that it’s just normal for me.

H2: Surely. Bit of a balancing act.

H1: Hey, you spoke earlier about how people want to talk a lot [about you], and we want to talk and everyone wants to talk about Eurovision, and how it would be great to speak about anything else, even about the weather. But now! Now we’ll talk about it!

H2: Yes, let’s watch the clip first, about a very fundamental question.

(a videoclip of interviewing people abouth whether winters used to be better in your childhood than they are nowadays :D Conclusion: it’s more a matter of childhood nostalgia and personal memories than anything else)

H1: Soo, Jere. Were the winters better back when you were a kid?

K: Well, yeah. Especially now that I’m thinking about all the memories connected to them. I liked snowboarding/downhill skiing [unclear which one he means] a lot back then, and i do feel that there was more snow and it came earlier, but of course my memories might be faulty and in reality we were just skidding on bare ground. But yeah, I have a feeling there used to be more snow and outdoor ice rinks and chances to build snow castles and things like that.

H2: Yeah, you must’ve been familiar with the ice rinks, since you played ice hockey for many years, right?

K: Yes, though with little success. But yeah, I did go swat the puck for a time.

H2: That looks quite proper to me (looking at pics of him in a hockey match).

K: Well, I’ve got the gear on and the puck in my control, so that helps (laughs).

H1: I gathered that you played quite many positions?

K: Yeah, I did go through them all, but none of them was my thing, in the end. But I have very fond memories from my hockey days, too. Though it was also like banging your head to a wall sometimes, too. That either wasn’t just sunshine and rainbows all the time. Very hard training at one point, and from there it swung to the other end when I was mainly just fiddling around. Like, training once a week and then playing a match. But yeah, spent a lot of time at ice halls.

H2. Yes, and speaking of halls. It was on the news today that your iconic green bolero has now been frozen and hoisted up to the ceiling of Helsinki Ice hall rink.

K: Yes, there it hangs now. Up there it went.

H2: An honorary gesture for the shirtless rager. To cheer you on.

K: Yes, my thanks for them all, too. And we’ll have a gig there at the hall in May also, so it was really cool of them to come up with such event. I guess they wanted to wish me luck and bring some joy to the people with a silly happening like that.

H1: And there’s also the positive side to it that it wont get lost from up there (chuckles).

K: Yes, it sure won’t. Unless someone finds a crane or something to get it. So I’m sure it’ll be waiting for me there.

H2: Your live performances are quite demanding physically. Do you think this (points at the hockey pic) laid the groundwork for that?

K: Yes, I’m sure of it. Like, thinking back to the time I was in hospital, I bounced back really fast and got back in good shape even though I was a total wreck after that one year. But when I got back to the gym and jogging trails I started putting weight and muscle back on quite soon. There is some, like, muscle memory to it. I can tell my sports background has it’s effect. That’s why I wish that also the youth of today would all have the chance to have hobbies. It’s not possible for everyone, but I wish it was, because it brings a lot of good, improves your health and brings new friends and so on.

H1: So then, like, most of us have only seen Cha Cha Cha from you at this point, but how are your usual gigs? How long and how physical are they typically?

K: About 45 min to an hour, around 12 or 13 songs a gig. And… yeah, they are quite a mayhem, even more than Cha Cha Cha is, some pretty fast-paced songs in there. You get to shriek and rage and run and hype the audience to your heart’s content.

H2: No wonder that your voice is a bit down, then. You aren’t holding anything back while on stage?

K: No, I think that if somebody has paid, whether it’s 5 euros or 50 euros for the ticket, I’ll give it my all every time. I don’t want the people to feel like I’m slacking off , came there to just collect some easy money, or that I’m not interested in being there. Because it is our shared experience, when the audience is there. I am not alone in there, but together with everyone, and it should be a party for all of us then.

H1: Of course. So, on Sunday you’ll be on the move, but before that a little time to rest, to spare yourself. You won’t be doing any gigs before the ESC anymore, right?

K: I won’t, no.

H1: Great. You’ll get your voice in top condition, yes?

K: Yes.

Hosts: (starting to wrap up the interview] But! BUT! Now, let’s put on some music, shall we? Just a couple little dance moves, pleeease. We can’t end this without a little Cha Cha Cha! So, good luck to you in Liverpool (K: thank you], but now, let’s head onto the dance floor (everyone running away from the sofas). Teach us some moves that everyone should know!

(chaotic Cha Cha Cha-ing ensues, until the hosts form a mini-piggytrain and Käärijä rides away from the camera view. The End.)

[parkswritessometimes]

Escapees of IRIS CHPTR 4

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2] [Chapter 3]

Chase stares into the shelves of produce, his eyes scanning every object but notfully comprehending what he was seeing. Rows and rows of colorful produce stare back at him. He groans and presses his head against the refrigerator door, letting the cool stainless steel soothe his forming headache. The thought of cooking dinner fills Chase’s chest up with dread. Recipes and random thoughts crawl over one another, battling to be the one that Chase’s full attention goes to.

It’s been a full three weeks since he “moved in” with Jackie and Marvin. It’s time he started pulling his weight, cooking, cleaning, things that should be super easy. But these simple tasks still feel like moving an actual mountain, maybe he isn’t ready for this. He grips the door’s handle with all his might trying to stop his hands from shaking like they were on a fault line. He knew that going sober was going to be hard, but at least the worst was behind him. The only benefit of the whole IRIS debacle was it kept him away from alcohol and started the road of sobriety. His head isn’t as foggy, and his skin was finally starting to clear up for the first time since his early twenties. While he still had the odd craving for the sweetness of being in a thick haze, blocking out any guilt and emptiness, he was starting to feel better. More whole. His hands still shake, and the brain fog can be so intense it would leave him bedridden, but it feels worth it.  Because everyday he is making his new friends proud. He is making Chole proud. 

“Hey, Chaser!” Jackie’s voice rings throughout the small apartment, ripping Chase’s attention from the produce. “Whatcha doing?” 

“Trying to make dinner but I can’t figure anything out.” 

“Oh, dude, it’s fine. Marv is gonna bring home some Italian place from that nice place down the street.”

“Oh, well, is there anything you need me to do?”

“Chase, it’s fine. I promise. You look tired man, why don’t you go lay down.”

“Jackie, I’m fine. And I’ve been living here rent free for almost a month now. You have feed me, bought me a whole new wardrobe, for fucks sake Jackie, you practically renovated your room for me! Let me do something.” “Alright, alright,” Jackie puts his hands up as he concedes the fight. “I have some files in the corner of the living room that I didn’t put away, why don’t you clean that up for me?” “Fiiiine.” Chase laughs, his headache having completely disappeares as he goes into the living room. 

The room was usually so clean the only word he could use to describe it was pristine, granted you have to ignore the blankets and pillows in random places, but other than that, not even a crumb could escape Marvin’s cleaning frenzies. But Marvin wasn’t here and Jackie made it today’s mission to completely redo his theory board. Well, Jackie preferres to call it his “superhero board”, but with all the string and newspaper clippings, and random placeholder photos, it looks like a crazy conspiracy theorist had gotten into their apartment.

Scraps of red yarn and remnants of newspaper clippings cluttered the corner of the room. Manila folders filled to the brim and ready to burst. Chase doesn’t even attempt to understand half of what was on the board. Faces he didn’t recognize, scientific terms that looked made up and cities he never heard of, litter the board. 

“Jackie, what even is all this?” Chase asks, his fingers brushing up against the newspaper clippings.  

“Oh, uh, I’m just tracking some people.” He calls out from the kitchen. 

Chase’s eyes scan the sections of the board. The first one is obvious, the demon. ALTR 114209. A static image of the red hallway sits right in the middle. Newspaper clippings, reports, transcripts and images stem from the portrait. Chase could feel his stomach twist and distort the longer he looked at it. 

The other two are a mystery to Chase. A placeholder image pinned in the middle of the board, and the name Jameson scrubbed just above it. Chase feels his heart ache at the clear desperation on the board. Pushpin holes decorate the top of each scrap of paper. IRIS reports that it looks like they’ll crumble if he touches them. Jackie’s notes are thrown up against the board, all asking where this person was.

If that section is full of love and concern, the last one is full of hate. Slashes and jagged cuts from the cutouts. Papers ripped and torn without care and thrown up onto the board. Pins in the faces of the scientist and fowl words scrawled across the articles. “IRIS scientists' son missing” the man’s eyes are full of false sorrow and pain. Chase knows the look of a broken man, and this isn’t it. His eyes hold a hint of sadism behind it all. Like he couldn’t care less, or even worse, that he was happy his son was gone. Chase feels the urge to call out to Jackie, to ask why this scientist was on his board, but his words are stuck in his throat. He has a feeling he already knew. He shakes off the disgusting feeling that has begun to crawl up his back, as he picks up the folders on the coffee table. 

“Where do you want these Jackie?” 

“Uh, fuck, where do I want those…um, just throw them in my room!”

Chase rolled his eyes as he smiled. Classic Jackie. 

“You gotta get like a bookshelf or a filing cabinet.”

“Hey, my system works!” 

“Barley!” Chase lets out a small chuckle as he opens the door to Jackie’s room. He begins to throw the folders on Jackie’s bed when he notices a familiar picture sticking out of one of the folders. He slides the folder out from the others, pulling it aside. His heart drops to his stomach, as he looks at the label. Every fiber of his being tells him to put it back with the others, pretending that he never saw it. But he has to know. His eyes scan over the document, skipping what little stuff he already knows, trying to find something that would fill in the gaps that are being withheld from him.

ALTR 114209 was subsequently freed by Dr.[redacted], letting the subject escape containment. We theorize that Dr.[redacted], was influenced by ALTR 114209. But until Dr. [redacted] reovers we will be unable to confirm.  The [redacted], that was used to contain ALTR 114209 was found scattered in said ALTR’s containment unit. 

Witnesses claim that ALTR 114209 was not fully formed, taking the image of a distorted green man, glitching heavily and erratically, a large gash in his neck and limbs phasing in and out of existence. Witnesses also claim that ALTR 114209 did not interact at all with employees or members of the CNC unit, instead going straight for the electrical cables.

ALTR 114209 will most likely use technology such as monitors, cables, telephone and electrical wires, to travel until it can find a proper host and/or vessel.  We will do our best to recontain the ALTR before it can attach itself to a host and/or vessel. 

Be on the lookout for-

Chase feels his entire body go numb as the folder slips out of his hands. His mind races as he tries to process all the information on that sheet of paper. He can feel his heart sink like a rock in the abyss that had become his life. 

“Holy shit.” Those are the only words in his broken mind he can manage. “Holy shit.”

 They let him go. They let him go. They let Stacy die. They let Chloe die! IRIS was to blame!  They could have done something, anything, but they let it go!

He wants to scream, to cry, to punch a hole in the wall over and over and over again until the drywall is embedded into his flesh, but he is just unmoving on the bed. He can’t breathe, he can’t blink, he’s as frozen and helpless as he was when that creature first arrived. 

He feels tears flow down his face, as the world starts to distort. He feels his mind start to leave his body, that familiar tingle beginning to crawl up his spine. He knows deep in his heart that this was him beginning to dissociate. That there is no way Anti can reach him here. But a part of him wishes the ALTR was here. He wishes the demon will take over his body and shove him into the depths of the void. Take his body someplace safe and quiet, before cutting and slicing into it. Letting the crimson red pain flow down his body, then let Chase clean the mess up once he was done using his body. 

Drink. I need-wheres my-I need-Drink. His mind yeared as his cravings hit him full force. Whiskey. Suntori. Where-I-I need it.  His hands pat the bed sheets, searching for the sweetness of his whiskey. It has to be here somewhere. It was always near his bed. Where is it?! Where is it?! Where is it?!

“Chase, hey, Marvin just came back, and-“ 

Chase looks up at the hero, words fight to reach his mouth, they clamber and reach over each other, desperate to be on his tongue. What does he say? Does he know?! Does he have the answer?

“Jackie,” He chokes out. “I-They,”

“Chase are you-“ Chase watches as Jackie’s eyes land on the folder on the floor. He can practically see the gears turning behind Jackie’s eyes “Oh…Chase why don’t we put that away and-“

“No. I-They killed them. They let it go. IRIS they-Jackie they-it-“ 

“Chase hey, I know, trust me, I know.”

“No the fuck you do not! You have no idea what that is like!” Chase screamed as he bolted up from the bed. “You didn’t-You didn’t have to kill your own child-and they-they could have prevented it! How many-How many people died because they let it go! Did you know about this?! Did you let it kill Chloe too?!” Chase’s index finger digs right at Jackie’s heart. He sees Jackie’s face contort into one of fear and sadness. Good. He needs this to hurt. He wants it to hurt.

“Chase, Chaser, hey, can you follow my breathing? Can you please help me help you?”

“No! I don’t want anymore of this bullshit! I don’t want-I don’t want you! I don’t want to be here! I want to go home and-and drink and I want to die!” 

Chase's chest heaves as he spat out the words. He can’t understand what he is saying, only that he was saying everything he needsto say to get everyone away from him. 

“Chase, hey, I know you don’t mean that,”

“Yes I do! You don’t know shit about me Jackie!”

“I know that people say things they don’t mean when they’re upset.”

“Well, I want to die! I want to drink! I want-I want this pain to go away! And you-you aren’t going to be any help in accomplishing that goal, so you can fuck off! ” 

Chase shoves Jackie aside as he storms out of the room. To small, to small. This room , this apartment, did he even ever leave IRIS?! Did Jackie and Marvin work for them?! 

The world beomes gray and slow as he walks out of the room. He feels his hands wrap around a set of keys, snatching them from the kitchen table. Jackie’s screams sound like distant ambiance by the time they reach Chase’s ears. Marvin’s desperate grasp feels like nothing as he rips himself away. And even the door slamming shut is nothing more than a simple vibration, running down the hallway. 

Fuck Jackie. Fuck Marvin. Fuck IRIS. Fuck everything and everyone. 

But mostly, fuck him.

[umlewis]

lewis hamilton during the press conference, saudi arabia - march 16, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "Lewis, thank you for waiting. Now, look, fifth in Bahrain this year, having finished third in that race last year. Do you feel closer to the front this year than you did last year?" Lewis: "No." Interviewer: You feel that the gap between you and Red Bull is greater?" Lewis: "Yep." Interviewer: "And having..." Lewis: "I mean, it's a simple answer." Interviewer: "I know, but being through all the data, where do you feel you're losing out to someone like Checo around the track?" Lewis: "It's not on the straights. I think last year we were struggling not only on the straights; we had to take a much bigger wing, but we were equaling, if not losing, in the corners, is where the shear is mostly through the corners. I think down the straights we're quick, but exits, these guys have a lot of rear end through the majority of the corners. I think in the race they weren't pushing, and so I think they're a lot quicker than they even seemed. We have it as them as a second-and-a-half faster in the race, per lap; something like that.” Interviewer: "Given what you've just said, are you having to re-evaluate the year as a whole, in terms of your own objectives?" Lewis: "Once I drove the car for the first time, you kind of already start to do that, as you learn more about the car and you understand what the challenges are going to be that you're facing. And we're in a similar mentality-wise as we were last year, where we're just really working as hard as we can, staying one as a team, trying to all remain positive as, obviously, it's a shock when you find out that the car is not where you want it to be. But everyone is working on the solution, and I have 100 percent confidence in everyone just doing their job. You don't all of a sudden lose the ability to build great cars. We're not where we need to be, and where we want to be, and we just gotta keep working on it." Interviewer: "But, Lewis, given your level of success in this sport and given how long you've been doing it, what does what you've just said do to your motivation?" Lewis: "Nothing, really. You just redirect your energy. It's just different. If you're fighting for a world championship, which is what you prepare for in the beginning of the season, you realize that that's not the case, and then you redirect the energy into building and strenghtening the team, supporting everyone in the best way you can, and you continue to prepare the same for the races, in a sense, so your fitness and the mental approach. But we're not fighting for- We need the Red Bulls not to finish the race, and the Ferraris not to finish the race, and maybe now the Astons not to finish the race for us to be winning, at the moment, but that dosen't mean we can't catch them up. None of us at this team have ever shied away from a challenge, so we enjoy the challenge. We would much prefer to be at the front, but it isn't the way it is, so...” Interviewer: "Okay. Lewis, thank you for that."