#i’m a trademarked disaster

[risestarkiss]

✨The Fashionista✨

Rise Ramblings #234

While watching “The Clothes Don’t Make The Turtle,” I noticed something.

I found it interesting that Raph, Mikey, and Leo were content with Raph’s outfit choice until Donnie stated that he wasn’t “in love with it, ya’ know.”

Suddenly, Raph declares “I’m a disaster!” Albeit ridiculously endearing, it was a little strange to see his sudden shift from moderately content to absolute dissatisfaction. Huh…

Then, the disaster twins decide to help him out.

Take a note of their outfit choices.

Raph tries on all of these fits and more.

Donnie’s first choice is a mild “no.” Leo’s choice is a hard “NO.” (Not surprising, lol.) But then, the overwhelming consensus lands on Raph’s fourth outfit, which ended up being Donatello’s other pick for his brother.

So, in summary, Raph tried on his personal choice for an outfit, of which they rejected. Then, ultimately, Donatello picked out an outfit for his brother, and that pick ended up being perfect. Hmm…

Then I noticed something else. In this episode, we never get a Donnie “curtain reveal” moment, to our disdain. I mean, Raph, Leo, and Mikey got to try on several different outfits in order to get their brothers' opinions before landing on that “perfect outfit, you know the one.” All of his brothers got to shine. Why not DonTron?

Then it hit me.

The try-ons were to get their brothers' opinions and approval. And, for his brothers' choices, he was a major contributor in assisting them in pulling their looks together.

What if, bear with me, Donnie didn’t need the "curtain scene" because he was so confident in his fashion sense that he didn’t need to ask his brothers for help to pick out a great look.

…or they figured out how to break Hypno’s spell before he could get a “curtain reveal.” BUT STILL-

Look at his outfit choices in this episode. Some of his wardrobe changes were off-screen, but all of them were fire.

(I added the baseball cap pic because it makes me happy. I wish we'd seen more of that fit.)

To me, he makes some really smart choices for himself, pushing the envelope of what is expected and taking chances: an open collar with no tie for a “black tie” event, a beanie and spiked wristbands for their “gansta look,” no socks with loafers (a viral fashion trend that actually began in Africa) with old man slacks in his reclined pose. *muah* Chef’s kiss!

But Don’s fashion sense doesn’t just shine in this episode.

In “Reparin’ the Baron” the boys go to Draxum’s apartment. Leo and Donnie show up in some extra nice “Sunday Dinner” twin drip.

The gold is in the details. Everything Leo is wearing, Donnie rocks its compliment: for Leo’s round collar, Donnie’s is angled, for Leo’s blue shirt, Donnie’s is white, For Leo’s light slacks, Donnie’s are dark. Blah blah blah. It’s so good!

Look at the winter fit in Snow Day.

Again, Donnie is Leo’s perfect compliment. As a pair? Fire.

Donnie has “the eye.” I can go on and on with examples, but I’ve said all of that to say this…

In the future, we see that Donatello’s technology had major pull in the resistance. He had drone ships patrolling the skies. He built and designed Leo’s arm, Casey’s chainsaw-hockey stick, and Casey's mask. The list goes on…

But, when Donatello from the past see’s Casey’s clothing from the future, he says this:

We know about the “Genius Built” brand. We’ve seen that logo on all of his tech up to this point. But, here he didn’t just say “Genius Built.” He said, “Genius Built Apparel.”

“Apparel” is not a tech brand. “Apparel” is a fashion brand. Of course, tech is incorporated into the clothing, but still.

This means that past Donatello secured this trademark with plans of creating a fashion brand, comparable to the likes of Gucci, Ralph Lauren, or any other modern clothing brand, as a subsidiary of “Genius Built,” the tech company.

And why not? The evidence has been in front of us this entire time. He has a sharp eye for style, fashion, and trends. It is easily canon that he can sew. Splinter sewed their ninja garbs in “Insane in the Mama Train,” and there is a sewing machine in the house.

They already learned Ninjutsu through basically osmosis, so learning to sew is not too far-fetched.

And here it is, right in front of us, Casey’s entire ensemble, from mask, to weapons, to clothing, was made by Donatello in the middle of the apocalypse under the brand name “Genius Built Apparel.”

And that was just in the bad future. Resources were limited, they didn’t have access to much of anything in that broken world as they were survivors of a devastating Krang invasion. Yet, he created all of this.

However, now that they’ve changed the future, his future as a fashion designer is limitless. Think of what Donatello could produce with unlimited resources, unlimited technology, and unlimited creative freedom.

Tech genius. Clothing designer. Fashionista. Future Genius Built Apparel Owner and CEO. I’m sorry, but I have to call it...

Donatello Hamato of the present, of the bad future, and of the good future is a fashion icon, the likes of which the world has never seen. ○○○○

Update: I've decided to make this concept into a mini-comic series!

2025 Update:

I've also made this post into a YOUTUBE VIDEO!

Video Preview:

You can check that out →→→ HERE ←←←

○○○○

🎞 YOUTUBE 🎞 | 💚 SEND A SLICE 🍕 | 🎵 BANDCAMP 🎵

[deonsx]

Sorry for asking so late but can I bother you to do a Rin x reader where the blue lock guys try to get the two together but don't know that they're already a couple and they prefer to not have pda? I understand if this is a pretty weird post so sorry 😭🙏

Hiii im dead for a while but now im here by the way if you into date games play killer chat im playing for 2 days (every route)

Unfortunately for you, Isagi and Bachira were terrible at reading the room.

“I’m telling you, Rin just needs a little push!” Bachira whispered loudly, glancing over at Rin, who sat silently at the table with his arms crossed, eyebrows furrowed in his trademark glare. You were seated across from him, quietly reading a book.

Isagi nodded, leaning closer. “Right! They get along so well. We just need to create the perfect opportunity for them to bond”

“What are you two scheming now?” Chigiri’s voice cut in, unimpressed as he crossed his arms “Shh! We’re playing Cupid,” Bachira said, his grin widening. “Rin and (Y/N) have potential. They just need a little help”

Chigiri sighed but stayed to watch the disaster unfold. Their first attempt came at dinner, where Bachira “accidentally” knocked over a drink right into your lap “Oh no! (Y/N), you’re soaked! Rin, why don’t you help them clean up?” Rin blinked at Bachira, his expression somewhere between annoyance and disbelief. “What?”

“I think I can handle a little water,” you said quickly, standing to grab a towel. Rin gave a short nod. “Good. That’s settled” He turned back to his plate, leaving Isagi and Bachira dumbfounded

Next, they decided teamwork was the key. During practice, Isagi orchestrated drills that paired you with Rin every single time “Isagi, stop screwing with the pairings,” Rin snapped after the third consecutive drill

“What? It’s just coincidence!” Isagi replied, sweating under Rin’s glare. You exchanged a subtle look with Rin, suppressing a smile. He was irritated, but you could tell he found their meddling amusing in a way only you would notice

Their final attempt was a classic: trapping you both in a room together “Oops! Door’s jammed!” Bachira called, locking the storage room from the outside. Rin groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as you sat calmly on a crate

“Should we let them think this is working?” you asked, a small smirk tugging at your lips “No. That’ll encourage them.” Rin walked to the door and pounded on it. “Open the door, or I’m kicking it down”

Panicking voices followed. “Wait! We’re not ready yet!” Rin sighed and glanced at you. “Idiots” You smiled, leaning back. “You’re lucky they have no idea, or they’d never leave us alone”

“Tch. As if they could figure it out. They’re too dense.” But when Rin turned to look at you, his gaze softened for just a moment a fleeting look that spoke volumes. When the door finally opened, Bachira and Isagi peeked inside, expecting tension, chemistry something

Instead, Rin brushed past them without a word, leaving you to follow behind with an amused shrug “I don’t get it” Bachira muttered. “Why isn’t it working?” From down the hall, Rin caught your hand briefly, just out of sight, before letting it go

Enjoy!

[airybcby]

hii i was wondering if i could have kaiser 🍰 for 'More Than A Married Couple, But Not Lovers' event thank you!

Of course!! You didn't pick a trope, so i picked one for you, hope you don't mind!

a michael kaiser apple slice :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° the lingering question kept me up

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — michael kaiser x gn! reader, gn! reader, rivals-to-lovers, arrogany and rude kaiser, hot headed! reader, reader calls kaiser a prince once, bickering, fighting, set in a high school setting

♡ synopsis — every girl wanted to get paired with michael kaiser, except you. and isn't it just your luck that that's exactly what ends up happening.

If there were a ranking of people you’d least want to be paired with in a fake marriage simulation, Michael Kaiser would sit comfortably at the top.

The smug, arrogant soccer star had been a thorn in your side since the day he transferred to the academy. He wasn’t just good—he was incredible—and he knew it, lording his talent over everyone with a devil-may-care attitude and a smirk that could ignite arguments in seconds.

So, naturally, when your name was called alongside his for the month-long program, your first reaction was disbelief.

“This must be a nightmare,” you muttered under your breath, glaring at the instructor, even if they didn't care how you felt

“Nightmares are just dreams, sweetheart,” Kaiser said, flashing you his trademark grin.

The first week was nothing short of a disaster.

Kaiser treated the simulation like a game he was determined to win, turning every task into an opportunity to assert dominance.

“You call this cooking?” he teased, poking at the pasta you’d made for dinner.

“Maybe I’d try harder if my husband didn’t lounge around like a spoiled prince,” you shot back, slamming your fork down.

“Ah, but I am a spoiled prince,” he said with a dramatic bow. “And you’re lucky to be married to royalty.”

You rolled your eyes so hard they hurt. It wasn’t just his constant teasing—it was the way he seemed to glide through life without effort, as if nothing could touch him.

But what infuriated you most was how easily he charmed everyone else. While you were busy struggling through the tasks, Kaiser had your classmates laughing, the instructors nodding in approval, and even the simulation’s pretend landlord eating out of his hand.

Things changed during the second week.

The task was to build a piece of furniture together—a deceptively simple project designed to test communication skills. Predictably, the two of you argued the entire time.

“Kaiser, you’re putting the screws in the wrong way.”

“No, I’m putting them in the efficient way. You’re just slow.”

“Efficient? You mean completely wrong?”

An hour later, the bookshelf you’d been building collapsed in a heap of wood and screws. You sank to the floor, burying your face in your hands. “This is hopeless.”

“Hey,” Kaiser said, his voice softer than usual. “It’s not that bad.”

You looked up, surprised to find him crouched beside you. His usual smirk was gone, replaced by something almost… sincere.

“You’re good at this stuff,” he admitted. “I’ll follow your lead this time.”

The words caught you off guard. For the first time, it felt like he was taking you seriously, not just treating this as another game to win.

Working together after that was easier. He still teased you, of course—this was Kaiser—but there was less bite to it, and you found yourself smiling despite your best efforts.

By the third week, something had shifted between you.

Kaiser, as it turned out, wasn’t just good at soccer. He was good at listening, too. When you vented about the program’s ridiculous expectations, he didn’t interrupt with a sarcastic comment or brush you off. Instead, he sat beside you, offering thoughtful advice and the occasional joke to lighten the mood.

“You’re not as insufferable as I thought,” you admitted one evening, after finishing the day’s tasks.

“High praise,” he said with a laugh. “I could say the same about you.”

It wasn’t long before the teasing turned into something softer, more playful. The line between rivalry and something else began to blur, and you found yourself looking forward to his smirks, his quips, even the way he always managed to steal the last slice of pizza.

The final week of the simulation brought the ultimate test: a mock anniversary dinner, complete with speeches about what you’d learned from your “partner.”

You’d planned to keep your speech simple—something polite but detached. But as you stood in front of the class, looking at Kaiser’s confident smirk, the words you’d prepared evaporated.

“I thought this simulation would be a nightmare,” you began, earning a few laughs. “And, at first, it was. But somewhere along the way, I realized… maybe it wasn’t all bad. Kaiser might be arrogant and impossible, but he’s also… surprising. He’s thoughtful when he wants to be, and he pushes me to be better, even when it drives me crazy. So, I guess… I’m glad it was him.”

You sat down, your face burning, and avoided looking at him.

When it was his turn to speak, he stood with his usual flair, hands in his pockets and a cocky grin on his face.

“I could say a lot of things about my lovely partner,” he began, shooting you a wink. “But the truth is, they're smarter, stronger, and more stubborn than anyone I’ve ever met. And if I had to do this again, I’d choose them every time.”

Your breath caught, and for once, his grin didn’t feel like an act.

The simulation ended with the two of you earning the highest score in the class, but it was the goodbye that stayed with you.

“You know,” Kaiser said as he helped you pack up the last of your things, “we make a good team.”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you teased, but your voice was softer than usual.

He stepped closer, his usual confidence tempered with something quieter. “Maybe we don’t have to stop being a team.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying… let’s find out what happens next,” he said, his smirk softening into a genuine smile.

For once, you didn’t have a comeback. Instead, you nodded, a smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.”

And as he walked you to the door, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, Michael Kaiser wasn’t so bad after all.

i love a good rivals to lovers

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[devildomwriter]

They Listen to You Play the Piano | Lucifer x Reader

Lucifer was anxiously filling out paperwork at his study desk as he did every night. The mountain of pavers very slowly decreased, and his hand began to cramp from so much writing.

He sighed and stretched, deciding he should get another coffee lest he fall asleep at his desk again. Honestly, Diavolo worked him a little too hard at times, but he’d never admit that to the demon lord. He’d be far too embarrassed to admit he couldn’t do everything as he saw proudly proclaimed. However, he didn’t know any demon that could do a thousand and five reports in a single night while keeping their six demon brothers and chaotic human under control.

He sighed as he left his room, and as he walked down the hall towards the kitchen, he thought he heard a few keys being played on the piano.

“Ode to Joy?” He thought out loud, recognizing the simple piano piece.

He followed the sound of the piano to the music room and stood just out of sight as he saw you looking rather aggravated, staring at your D.D.D. screen and cursing your hands for not moving correctly.

He listened to you practice as you continuously hit the wrong key until you banged your head onto the piano keys, and he decided he couldn’t let this go on.

He walked up behind you quietly and saw a piano learning app pulled up on the D.D.D.

“___?” He asked, standing right behind you.

Your head shot up from the piano, and you stared at him in embarrassed shock.

“What the? Please tell me you didn’t hear that disaster….” You mumbled, red in the face.

He chuckled and nodded, patting your shoulder to comfort you as you hid your face in your hands.

“My pinky won’t move without the other fingers! It’s so easy to play with one finger, but I can’t use my entire hand?” You complained, and he laughed and gestured for you to move aside.

He sat on the bench next to you and moved your fingers to the correct keys.

“Like this.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” you sighed.

“Well, you aren’t doing it right,” he corrected.

“Yeah, I figured that the eighth time I screwed it up. How did Beethoven compose music as a child?”

“Practice. He practiced day and night just like you’re going to do.”

“What? I am?”

He nodded, “yes. I’ll be your teacher. You’ll be playing masterpieces in no time.”

“You have too much faith in me,” you mumbled, not sure if you should be excited about lessons or scared.

“No, you just have too little faith in yourself,” he scolded, and he put your hand back over the proper keys.

“We’re going to practice using your pinky by itself until your other fingers get used to it,” he instructed.

“Don’t you have paperwork,” you tried distracting him.

“It can wait. This is far more important,” he dismissed.

“What? No, it’s not,” you insisted, but he gave you his trademark smirk, confusing you.

“I’m the only one in this house who plays piano; you wanted to impress me, didn’t you?”

“Not everything is about you,” you blushed because he was right.

“Nonsense, of course it is. Now let’s begin.”

Thus began the first of many nights sat closely by Lucifer’s side as your hands moved together, filling the house with beautiful music.

[onehundredelevven]

You received a Christmas Fic I !

Pre-Christmas with Sukuna.

word count: 1,010

cw: Just Sukuna being Sukuna, cringe ig, but sweet and fun nonetheless

note: this is kinda rushed, but I hope y'all like it !

December was in full swing, and your apartment was a whirlwind of holiday chaos. Boxes of decorations were scattered across the floor, half-empty rolls of wrapping paper had taken over the couch, and you were wearing an oversized sweater with a cartoonish reindeer on the front.

Sukuna, meanwhile, sat at the dining table, looking like he wanted to murder the nearest inflatable snowman.

“What exactly are you doing?” he asked, narrowing his eyes as you balanced precariously on a stool to hang a string of lights.

“What does it look like?” you replied, sticking your tongue out in concentration as you secured the lights. “I’m spreading holiday cheer, duh.”

“You mean you’re spreading a disaster,” he muttered, taking a sip from his coffee.

You turned to glare at him. “Oh, I’m sorry, Mr. Grinch. Didn’t realize you were allergic to fun.”

“I’m not allergic to fun,” he said, leaning back in his chair with that trademark smirk. “I just don’t see the point of all this… nonsense.” He gestured vaguely at the mess you’d made of the apartment.

“Nonsense?” You gasped dramatically, clutching your chest like he’d just insulted your entire family lineage. “How dare you disrespect the sacred art of Christmas decorating!”

“It’s not sacred. It’s tacky,” he shot back, though his eyes lingered on the string of multicolored lights you’d managed to drape across the room.

“Oh, come on, Sukuna,” you said, hopping off the stool and plopping down beside him. “Don’t you feel the Christmas spirit? The magic? The joy?”

“I feel like I’m stuck in a Hallmark movie,” he deadpanned.

You gasped again. “You take that back!”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your theatrics. “What are you going to do? Throw tinsel at me?”

“Don’t tempt me,” you muttered, grabbing a nearby strand of tinsel threateningly.

Sukuna rolled his eyes, but there was a faint twitch at the corner of his mouth—almost like he was trying not to smile.

☆☆☆

It didn’t take long for your chaotic energy to rope him into the madness.

“Here, hold this,” you said, shoving a box of ornaments into his arms.

“No,” he said flatly, not even bothering to look up from his phone.

“Yes,” you insisted, grabbing his wrist and dragging him over to the tree. “You’re helping whether you like it or not.”

“Why would I waste my time hanging plastic baubles on a dying plant?”

“Because you love me,” you said sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him.

He snorted. “Debatable.”

“Wow.” You pouted, crossing your arms. “Fine. Be a Grinch. I’ll just do it all myself.”

You turned away dramatically, but before you could pick up an ornament, Sukuna grabbed your wrist.

“Give me that,” he said gruffly, taking the ornament from your hand.

You grinned triumphantly as he begrudgingly hung it on the tree.

“See? That wasn’t so hard,” you said, nudging him with your elbow.

“Don’t push it,” he warned, though he didn’t pull away when you leaned against him.

☆☆☆

By the time you finished decorating, the living room looked like Christmas had exploded. The tree was covered in lights, ornaments, and a questionable amount of fake snow. You’d even managed to hang a wreath on the front door, though Sukuna had grumbled the entire time about how “pointless” it was.

“You know,” you said, collapsing onto the couch with a satisfied sigh, “I think this might be my best work yet.”

Sukuna stood with his arms crossed, surveying the room like a disgruntled art critic.

“It’s… less terrible than I expected,” he admitted reluctantly.

You gasped. “Was that a compliment? From the great Ryomen Sukuna himself?”

“Don’t get used to it,” he said, sitting down beside you.

☆☆☆

The evening took a quieter turn as you both settled in with mugs of hot chocolate (well, you had hot chocolate; Sukuna had spiked his with something stronger). The lights on the tree cast a warm glow over the room, and for once, Sukuna wasn’t scowling.

“This isn’t so bad, is it?” you asked, nudging him with your shoulder.

“It’s tolerable,” he said, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Watch it,” he warned, though he didn’t push you away.

For a moment, the chaos of the day melted away, leaving only the quiet hum of holiday music and the gentle crackle of a candle burning on the coffee table.

“Hey,” you said suddenly, sitting up and looking at him with a mischievous glint in your eye.

“What now?” he asked, already bracing himself for whatever ridiculous idea you’d come up with next.

You held up a sprig of mistletoe, grinning like a child who’d just pulled off a prank.

“Really?” he said, giving you a flat look.

“It’s tradition,” you said innocently, holding the mistletoe above your heads.

Sukuna sighed, setting his mug down on the table. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he muttered before leaning in to kiss you.

The kiss was slow and deliberate, a rare moment of tenderness from someone as rough around the edges as Sukuna. When he pulled away, his usual smirk was back in place.

“Merry pre-Christmas, brat,” he said, ruffling your hair.

“Merry pre-Christmas, Grinch,” you replied, snuggling back into his side.

And for once, Sukuna didn’t complain.

[kiyawritesforf1]

TANGLED HEARTS

Pairing - Carlos Sainz x Norris!Reader

Words - 3.2k

The Monaco sun blazed down on the paddock, a chaotic swirl of mechanics, media, and the occasional rogue seagull eyeing someone’s sandwich. Y/N Norris, younger sister of McLaren’s golden boy Lando Norris, strutted through the chaos like she owned it. Her oversized sunglasses perched precariously on her nose, and her trademark smirk screamed I’m about to cause trouble. She was a classic Norris—charming, a bit bratty, and utterly incapable of thinking three steps ahead. If Lando was the family’s lovable goofball, Y/N was the human equivalent of a sparkler: bright, unpredictable, and likely to set something on fire.

Today, her target was Carlos Sainz. Ferrari’s smooth-talking Spaniard was everything Y/N wasn’t: measured, sensible, and infuriatingly good at keeping his emotions on a leash. They’d been dancing around each other for months, ever since a blurry, tequila-fueled night in Miami where a hotel room and questionable decisions had left them both flustered and avoiding eye contact for a week. Y/N wasn’t one to let things slide, though. She wanted Carlos, and when Y/N Norris wanted something, she’d move heaven and earth—or at least annoy everyone in a 10-mile radius—to get it.

Carlos, on the other hand, was playing the long game. He liked Y/N—more than he’d admit to himself—but the idea of dating his best friend’s little sister was a minefield he wasn’t keen to cross. Lando was protective, and Carlos valued their friendship too much to risk it over what he kept telling himself was a fleeting crush. Except Y/N wasn’t making it easy. She flirted relentlessly, in private with teasing whispers and in public with winks that had the F1 gossip blogs buzzing. Carlos was holding strong, but his resolve was cracking like a cheap phone screen.

The Paddock Shenanigans

It was Friday, free practice day, and the paddock was buzzing. Y/N lounged against McLaren’s hospitality suite, sipping an iced coffee and scanning the crowd for Carlos. Lando was nearby, chatting with Oscar Piastri about tyre strategy, oblivious to his sister’s scheming. Max Verstappen and Daniel Ricciardo were loitering nearby, Max scrolling through his phone while Daniel tossed a stress ball at anyone who looked bored.

“Oi, Y/N!” Daniel called, grinning. “You causing trouble yet, or are we still in the warm-up lap?”

Y/N smirked, flipping her hair. “Danny, I don’t cause trouble. Trouble just finds me. It’s my magnetic personality.”

Max snorted without looking up. “Yeah, magnetic for chaos. Didn’t you crash Lando’s golf cart into a fence last month?”

“That was an artistic statement,” Y/N shot back, unfazed. “And anyway, Carlos fixed it. Didn’t you, Chili?” She spotted Carlos walking past with Charles Leclerc, and her voice took on a syrupy edge.

Carlos froze mid-step, his brown eyes narrowing. “Don’t drag me into your crimes, Y/N,” he said, but there was a twitch at the corner of his mouth. Charles raised an eyebrow, clearly sensing the vibe but too polite to comment.

“Crimes? Me?” Y/N pressed a hand to her chest dramatically. “I’m an angel. Tell him, Lando!”

Lando, distracted, glanced over. “Yeah, sure, angelic as a tornado. Carlos, mate, don’t let her rope you into anything. She’s got a knack for disaster.”

“Too late,” Y/N muttered under her breath, winking at Carlos. He shook his head, but his ears were turning pink—a dead giveaway he wasn’t as immune as he pretended.

The flirting wasn’t new. Y/N had been at it for weeks, dropping innuendos in team meetings, brushing past Carlos a little too closely in the garage, and texting him memes at 2 a.m. with captions like “This could be us but you’re playing hard to get.” Carlos would reply with a single emoji—🙄—but he never told her to stop. That was her green light.

The Miami Flashback

The Miami night was a hazy memory, but it haunted them both. It had been post-race, the air thick with champagne and bad decisions. Y/N, tipsy and bold, had cornered Carlos at the bar, her usual bratty confidence dialed to eleven.

“Carlitos,” she’d slurred, poking his chest. “You’re too serious. Live a little.”

He’d laughed, his guard down after a few drinks. “And you, pequeña, live too much.”

One thing led to another—banter to dancing, dancing to wandering hands, and suddenly they were in his hotel room, giggling like idiots and kissing like they’d been starving for it. Morning came with a pounding headache and mutual panic. Carlos had bolted upright, muttering about Lando killing him, while Y/N sprawled across the bed, smirking.

“Relax, Sainz,” she’d said. “It’s not like we robbed a bank. Just a little fun.”

But it wasn’t just fun. Not to her. And, if she was reading him right, not to him either. The problem was getting him to admit it.

The Flirting Escalates

Back in Monaco, Y/N wasn’t backing down. During a drivers’ briefing, she slid into the seat next to Carlos, ignoring Lando’s raised eyebrow from across the room. As the FIA droned on about track limits, she leaned closer, whispering, “You look good in red, but I bet you’d look better in my hotel room.”

Carlos choked on his water, earning a curious glance from George Russell. “Y/N,” he hissed, “behave.”

“Make me,” she shot back, batting her lashes.

He glared, but his hand lingered a second too long when he passed her a pen later. Progress.

That evening, the drivers hit a bar to unwind. Y/N, in a dress that screamed trouble, was in her element, laughing with Pierre Gasly and Yuki Tsunoda while keeping one eye on Carlos. He was at the bar with Lando, looking like he was trying to solve world peace instead of enjoying his beer.

“Mate, you alright?” Lando asked, clapping Carlos on the shoulder. “You’ve been weird lately.”

Carlos forced a smile. “Just tired, amigo.”

Lando didn’t buy it, but he didn’t push. Y/N, however, saw her chance. She sauntered over, leaning between them to grab a cherry from the bar. “Carlos, you gonna sulk all night, or are you gonna dance with me?”

Lando groaned. “Y/N, leave him alone. Not everyone wants to deal with your chaos 24/7.”

She stuck her tongue out at her brother. “You’re just jealous because I’m more fun than you.”

Carlos’s lips twitched, but he stayed silent, sipping his drink. Y/N’s patience was fraying. She’d been flirting for weeks, and while Carlos wasn’t shutting her down, he wasn’t biting either. It was driving her up the wall.

The Breaking Point

By Sunday’s race, Y/N was done playing nice. She’d tried subtle, she’d tried bold, and Carlos was still dodging her like she was a DRS zone he didn’t trust. So, she did what any self-respecting Norris would do: she went nuclear.

Post-race, the paddock was a zoo. Lando had finished P3, Carlos P5, and the media was swarming. Y/N, in a McLaren cap and a devilish grin, cornered Lando by the motorhome while Carlos was nearby, signing autographs.

“Hey, big bro,” she said loudly, ensuring Carlos could hear. “You know how you’re always saying I need to be honest? Well, guess what? Carlos and I have been sleeping together.”

The world stopped. Lando’s jaw dropped. Carlos dropped his Sharpie, spinning around so fast he nearly tripped. The fans nearby gasped, phones already recording.

“Y/N!” Carlos barked, his face a mix of horror and fury. “What the hell?”

Lando blinked, processing. “You… what? With Carlos? My Carlos?”

“Your Carlos?” Y/N scoffed, hands on hips. “He’s not your property, Lando. And yeah, we hooked up. Miami. Great night. He’s just too stubborn to do anything about it.”

Carlos dragged a hand down his face, muttering in Spanish. “Madre de Dios, this is a nightmare.”

Lando rounded on him. “Mate, is this true? You and my sister?”

Carlos opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked at Y/N, who was staring him down, daring him to deny it. “It… happened,” he admitted, voice low. “Once. We were drunk. It was a mistake.”

Y/N’s bravado faltered for a split second, hurt flashing in her eyes. “A mistake? Wow, okay. Good to know.”

The tension was thicker than Monaco traffic. Lando looked between them, torn between betrayal and confusion. “You’re my best mate, Carlos. And you—” he pointed at Y/N—“you’re my sister. What am I supposed to do with this?”

Daniel, who’d wandered over because he smelled drama, piped up. “Mate, sounds like they need to sort their shit out. Maybe lock ‘em in a room till they figure it out.”

“Great idea,” Charles added, appearing out of nowhere. “But maybe not during a race weekend. Ferrari needs Carlos focused.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “I’m done chasing you, Carlos. You want to pretend it meant nothing? Fine. But don’t cry when I move on.”

She stormed off, leaving Carlos staring after her and Lando muttering, “I need a drink. Or therapy.”

The Aftermath

Carlos found her later, sitting on a balcony overlooking the harbor. The sun was setting, painting the sky pink, and Y/N looked smaller than usual, her usual fire dimmed.

“You’re insane, you know that?” he said, sitting beside her.

She didn’t look at him. “Worked, didn’t it? You’re here.”

“Not because you told the entire paddock we slept together,” he snapped. “That was reckless, Y/N. You could’ve ruined my friendship with Lando. Your relationship with him.”

She shrugged, but her voice was softer. “I don’t think before I act. It’s kinda my thing. And I was tired of you ignoring me.”

Carlos sighed, running a hand through his hair. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I was trying to do the right thing. Lando’s my brother, Y/N. You think I want to hurt him? Or you?”

Her head snapped up. “You think you’re protecting me by pushing me away? Newsflash, Sainz, I’m a big girl. I know what I want. And it’s you.”

He stared at her, the weight of her words sinking in. She was a whirlwind, a liability, everything he wasn’t. But God help him, he was crazy about her.

“I’m gonna kill you one day,” he muttered, but there was no heat in it.

“Promise?” she teased, scooting closer.

He laughed despite himself, and when she leaned in, he didn’t pull away. The kiss was slow, tentative, nothing like Miami’s frenzy. It felt like a beginning.

The Paddock Reacts

By the next race, the news had spread like wildfire. Lando was still grumbling, but he’d grudgingly given Carlos his blessing after a long talk—and a threat involving a golf club. The other drivers were having a field day.

“So, Norris Jr. and Sainz,” Max said, smirking. “Didn’t see that coming.”

“Liar,” Daniel countered. “Everyone saw it. They were practically eye-fucking in the paddock for months.”

Charles grinned. “As long as Carlos doesn’t crash because he’s distracted, I’m happy.”

Y/N, true to form, didn’t care about the gossip. She walked into the paddock hand-in-hand with Carlos, her smirk back in full force. When a reporter asked about their relationship, she winked. “What can I say? I always get what I want.”

Carlos rolled his eyes but squeezed her hand. “She’s impossible,” he told Lando later.

“Yeah,” Lando said, clapping him on the back. “But you’re stuck with her now. Good luck.”

[anlian-aishang]

For the practice drabble thingie, Sweat/Scent kink? 👁️ 👁️

I just. k n o w. I have this headcanon that Levi always uses baby/scented powder to avoid sweating so much on expeditions/missions, but maybe one day he just runs out of it or rushes out of his room, so Levi gets flustered or self-conscious for the rest of the day or smth, idk I don’t think he would smell **that much**, but… still, he smells pretty masculine, yknow?👁️👁️

Tags: levi x reader [mutual pining], sfw [but fetish-based material], sweat & scent stuff, canonverse, gn!reader Word count: 2700 A/N: Holy hell, thank you, this is exactly what I wanted. nsfw sequel is in the works <3

It was his fucking day off. 

Levi was the most cautious when it came to anticipation. Sights no one should have to see had scarred him to the point of learning: if you never got your hopes up, nothing could let you down. That thought rained on most of his parades, but he supposed there was little letdown to be had when it came to the likewise little things. On returns from expeditions, he allowed himself to look forward to the removal of his heavy gear and tight belts. When the smell of fresh-baked bread wafted through the barracks, he let his tongue salivate and his stomach sing. Today would have been his first day off in - he couldn’t even remember - god knows how long. Last night, his stagnant stoicism seemed to float away, head in clouded daydream of how to make this day perfect.

But some days weren’t meant to be perfect.

Instead of birds chirping and the first rays of sunlight that Levi anticipated, it was a series of harsh knocks at the hour of indigo sky that woke him up. Levi startled out of sleep, snapping up with a breathless gasp.  

In hindsight, maybe he should’ve said nothing, maybe then they would’ve left him alone. However, being woken suddenly, though a common occurrence, almost always meant disaster in the Scouts. His voice cracked a barely audible “W’What?” No response. Levi coughed and cleared his throat, the return of his scathing tone, “What?”

The knob swiveled. His door creaked. In the shadows of dawn stood a domineering, a commanding, six-foot figure. The leisurely pace with which he entered the room conveyed that there was no life-or-death emergency, and thus no good reason, for having barged in here on his day off. Levi rolled his eyes and scowled, “I didn’t say ‘come in.’”

Erwin ignored his remark and instead cut to the chase. “Supply transports were raided in Trost.”

His mind already set in vacation mode, it was remarkable how quickly his knowledge of the restock had left him, “What?”

“Tug-of-war with the Garrisons and MPs, scouring over the leftover scraps of the materials that were supposed to be.”

“The hell do the MPs need anything for?”

“I’m headed to the capital to find out.”

Too tired to think - let alone attempt - to disguise his confusion. Levi’s brows arced, lips parted as he tried to piece together what the hell this had to do with him. When it dawned, his trademark pout revived. 

“...No.”

“So you’ll take my stand, running morning drills in -” Erwin checked his pocket watch - “twenty minutes.”

“I’m off today.” Levi refuted. “Get Miche or Hange to do it.”

“They’re coming with me.” Erwin’s eyes were dead set, nearly offended, don’t you know I’ve thought of this already? “Unless, of course, you want to make the trip.”

To yak with the higher-ups? He would sooner crawl through mud.

Though he was given a choice, he took pity at his situation: “Bullshit…” Levi cursed beneath his breath, his version of whining.

Impatient, Erwin tapped his foot, “Are you going to get up or would you like to sit here and talk about our feelings?” The commander’s voice was starkly monotone, despite the sarcasm dripping in his statement.

Levi could play that card, too. “Are you going to leave or are you just here to watch my bare ass roll out of bed?”

Right. Erwin turned on his heel, door slammed in his wake. 

His impulse was to throw his head back on his pillow and an arm over his face, but twenty minutes - he didn’t even have the time for that. Levi bunched his sheets in his hands, so angry that his fists trembled, and swiveled his legs over the edge of his bed. A pang of nausea and a sharp headache, his body was pissed at him for the violent disruption of his sleep cycle. Levi held his forehead in hand and shook, blame eyebrows, not me. 

Levi’s limbs felt heavy, like he had just come indoors from a rainstorm. Clouds of colorful swears and harsh grunts propelled him through his morning routine. A three-minute shower, trimming his bangs, toothpaste and mouthwash followed by tea. One of many identical uniforms was laid out on his dresser, but before that…

From head to toe - undercut nape, under the arms, the shelf of his pecs, between his thighs, and finally his feet - Levi always applied a handful of drying agent. At this time of year, headquarters could seriously reek, and Levi refused to contribute to that filth. Pressing his lips together and stifling a yawn, he turned the container upside down. Lips parted, though, when nothing fell out. 

Shake. Shake shake.

A blockage, a clump, maybe? But there was no sound. The slightest of twitches in his fingers as Levi delicately, anxiously, twisted off the cap and peered inside. 

That’s right. He had made a mental note yesterday, that part of his day off would be dedicated to visiting the market, buying tea leaves, some new briefs, and his astringent powder - all items he was too mortified to order through the Corps. Given the thieving that had just happened, it was not like those supplies would’ve arrived anyway, but now, he would not have the freedom to go out and get them. 

With the jar completely open, he considered a few shakes in vain, but the bottle was so empty that he could see the reflection of his dark-circled eyes in the bottom of it. Levi allowed himself a heavy, exasperated sigh as he set the empty vessel back on his bathroom countertop just to loudly smack it into the trash can. Fucking shit. 

At least he had showered, but peering out the window and onto the training grounds, he could already see waves of heat radiating off the pavement. Come noon, it would be far worse. Clock ticking, for now, his only solution was to cut down on layers. It was then that he realized how little leniency the uniform lent. Gritting his teeth, Levi reluctantly left his top drawer shut, forgoing his undershirt and underwear. Walking past his mirror, his reflection caught his own eyes: his ivory skin barely yet noticeably peeking through the buttons of his grey shirt. Goddammit, he ripped the brown, canvas coat off its hanger and crossed it tight across his chest. To the harmony of his soles on wooden floor, his inner voice melodized: Could an outfit be both breathable and modest?

Levi could not bring himself to abandon his cravat, so instead of tying it beneath his collar, he let it sling out his back pocket, at the ready to grasp for when he needed to wipe his sweat away. That moment was inevitable, but he preferred not to think about it. He ran his fingers through his hair, base of his hand lingered on his widow’s peak, grinding pressure away like a mortar and pestle. Whatever, he tried to assure himself, as long as no one was around… 

At first, he thought he might manage. If they got close enough, they would surely notice the glimmer shining upon his skin. However, by terse orders and points of his fingers, he had maintained a perpetual distance from the hoard of trainees. He was more of a hands-on kind of teacher, opting to join them as they ran laps or learned to grapple through trees. Today, though, he was standing in the shade several yards from the action. If anyone gave him shit for lazying aside, he had an excuse in that he wasn’t even supposed to be on-call today anyways. However, perhaps because he looked particularly irritable and scary, no one dared question his bystanding.

Then came you.

“Levi?”

It was the first time you had ever seen startle on the captain. A simultaneous, steep flinch in each of his shoulders. Hairs stood on end, he whipped his gaze around, “What? What’re you doing here?”

The sight of panic on someone so fearless, it caused you to fret by proxy. “I - I uh…” You had never second-guessed him before, you had never had to. “I’m covering for -”

“Erwin?” 

You knit your hands behind your back, a sheepish grin, “He said you’d need help. You know, given the heat…”

Levi crossed his arms and bit the inside of his cheek. How shitty could that oaf be? The truth was that this heat was getting to everyone, yet in his fluster, Levi was sure that not only Erwin knew about his secret susceptibility, but that he had spilled it to the last person Levi wanted to know. No words seemed adequate for response, so instead, he kicked his foot against the barrack wall, leaned back, and deferred to silence.  

Something was off, your eyes darted in search for it. His cheeks had been tainted a light red. Luckily, you chalked it up to the temperature, though Levi knew that was not the sole factor. His hair was slicker than its usual light-and-airy allure, you figured he had just gotten out of the shower. That was true, but this damp was sweat, not soap. Your gaze started to descend down his body, and on the way, you noticed it: no cravat. 

A dog without a collar. A missing puzzle piece. Mildly irksome yet disproportionately intriguing. It was like he had read your mind, the mocking timing with which he reached back into his pocket and lifted the cloth to his forehead, sighing and swiping. After a couple wringing flicks of his wrist, he folded it and shoved it inside the lining of his tan jacket. His left hand tucked it away, hidden, while his right hand lifted the coat away from his chest, granting him the space to do so. Again, his own state snagged his attention - the dark, drenched patch of fabric at his underarm jumped out like a bug on a wall. Fiercely, he snatched his jacket shut again, praying to whatever was out there that you had not seen. 

And though you had not seen the soak of his shirt, his odd behavior was garnering more and more of your attention. Cruelly, that made him sweat even more: not only the sun’s rays, but the blaze of your stare burning onto his skin. He cursed the thickness of his leather boots, the ODM gear that strapped his clothing tight to his skin, the turn of events that had brought you to this moment, his stupid genetics, and his even stupider feelings for you. Thoughts spiraling, humidity could mess with him in ways that titans could not.

If you thought hard about it, you may have realized that his humidity induced the same haze in you. Bangs glued to his forehead. Chest rose high and fell deep - combined with his light panting - made your brain boggle. Now and then, a clear bead of sweat would fall from his temple, down his jawline and neck, before disappearing down his collar - where you noticed that his top button was uncharacteristically undone. 

The loud pop! as he uncorked his canteen broke both of your thirsts. Head tilted far back, Adam’s apple deliciously bobbed as he gulped down his water. Lips absentmindedly fallen, your eyes drank as he did. 

Levi recognized, pretending that he hadn’t noticed your stare had thus far failed to shake it. He scoffed internally: someone could use some self-awareness, he was literally dripping with it. With a straight-on side-eye, he maintained eye contact as he gradually lowered the canteen from his lips, only to thrash it and splash it upwards into his own face. Still, you gaped like an idiot. Finally, Levi decided: if you were going to be this indulgent, he would be, too. Maybe then, you’d realize. Levi thumbed a leaking drop from the corner of his mouth. After briefly sucking the digit dry, his tongue snuck between his lips to slowly lick them clean. 

Stone-cold steel eyes and his soft pink tongue - that was what it took to break your concentration. Immediately, you snapped your gaze down to your toes and silently mouthed sorry. 

Despite the heat, shivers somehow managed to seize his figure. With your gaze averted, you thankfully missed them. However, when you no longer had your sight to rely on, other senses instinctively took over. Particularly, scent: aged sandalwood, burnt charcoal, bitter tea. On the training grounds, these smells did not come naturally. And if it were anyone else, you may have cringed at the combination of scents, but upon realization of the one and only source of this musk, you felt your middle warm with inexplicable satisfaction. 

Meanwhile, he was squirming: fuck, how badly he wanted to hit the showers. If Erwin had left this assignment to him, he had every right to leave it to the next person. The thing was, that next person was you, the blinking, doe-eyed, fresh promotion who hardly knew their blades from their gas. If you were anyone else, he could see himself saying: take this cash, head to the square and stop at this stand, buy the tallest bottle they have and bring it back to me. Say a word, you’re dead. 

But you were the entire reason he strove to keep this secret under wraps. To give you such orders would essentially be a confession, erasing the whole point. Between a rock and a hard place, Levi stood frozen in fever. 

The air was thick with moisture and silence. With each breath, the memory of that canteen escapade and his intensifying aura seemed to suffocate you. Internally, he was simmering over how to shoo you away from his disgusting sorry state. On the other hand, you were parsing over how to excuse yourself without being rude. 

The 10:00 bell rang, you used it to craft a feigned excuse, “If you’ve got things under control -”

“I do.” In some ways, he did. In others, absolutely not. 

“- I’m supposed to help mess out with lunch.”

Levi knit his brows, seemed unlikely, but he would not object. With a slight flick of his head, his gesture released you from post and encouraged you inside.

At the door frame and with his back turned, you could not help but take one last look. At his last end and assuming you had departed already, he finally shouldered that Scouts jacket off, revealing his light-grey button up having turned dark with his sweat. His fist clutched his collar and fanned ferociously, allowing his skin to breathe. Inaudible to the other, you both simultaneously reprieved, “Fuck me…”

At 11 on the dot, Levi and the platoon of morning athletes were in the cafeteria line. So what if it meant they called it quits prematurely? Inside, no one was complaining. Levi was relieved that he did not find you there, hopeful that you were in your room avoiding heat stroke, and oddly satisfied to have correctly suspected your “cafeteria-duties” bluff earlier. 

Levi looked like he had been rained on then dunk-tanked. At least, that was how his squad put it, jeering and elbowing, “What happened to you out there?”

They didn’t want to know. He didn’t want them to know. Most of all, he would rather forget this day ever happened. He took his steel tray and made for his room to eat in private - but more importantly, to shower again.  

The venture back to his quarters seemed to drag - maybe it was because the dampness of his clothes had weighed him down, or maybe it was because the empty, lone quiet of the halls allowed his consciousness to echo loud and clear: humiliating, huh? 

He could not deny that it was fucking humiliating, but for as scathing as the memory of that embarrassment was, the recollection of your rose-colored stare was just as impactful. All along, he had feared that if you witnessed his weakness to heat - more so the sweat and stench that came with it, it would have sent you running the other direction. Self-doubt suggested: they did end up running, though. That mess-hall excuse, them being them, they were probably trying not to offend you as they took cover from your reek. Self-confidence objected, but remember the way they looked at you? Don’t play dumb. You know that look anywhere. They like you - and hell - maybe they liked it.

On his doormat, a tall white bottle and a handwritten note confirmed the latter.

Seemed like you were missing something… …not that I think you need it. - (Y/N)

// masterlist //

[w4ndering-th0ught]

sweat. 647 words. @jegulus-microfic.

Joint quidditch practices were Madam Hooch’s idea. Something about trying to quell inter-house animosity- blah blah blah.

In Regulus’ opinion the only thing useful about the joint practices is that they get to see first hand what a disaster the Gryffindor team is.

Like right now, Frank Longbottom and Marlene McKinnon are in a shouting match over which drill the group should work on next.

“No- NO! We can’t give them our best drills, Marlene, they’ll-”

“Oh for fucks sake, we have practice with them for the rest of term, what are we going to do? Never train to our full potential?!”

The Slytherin captain, Dorcas Meadowes, is watching the exchange with her trademark sharpness. She throws a look over at Regulus and cocks and eyebrow. He can practically hear her voice in his head, all brawn no brains, this lot.

He laughs at her and turns away, catching sight of James Potter. Staring at him.

Dorcas claps her hands together twice. “Alright, we’re going to move on to some partner work while those two finish their little spat.” She gestures with two lazy fingers over at Frank and Marlene and starts to draw a line in the mud with the heel of her boot. Marlene looks like she’s swallowed a pygmy puff.

“I call this one push-over.” Dorcas says as she finishes her line. She flicks another finger at Marlene. “You’re with me since you’re finished over there.”

Marlene splutters but stomps over all the same.

“Slytherins will be on this side of the line, Gryffindors on the other.” Dorcas indicates the line in the mud separating her and Marlene. “Knees bent, hinge slightly at the waist, and link your shoulders.” Dorcas gestures for Marlene to follow her lead and they end up with Dorcas’ left shoulder pressed to Marlene’s right, their cheeks practically smushed together. “The goal is to get to your opponent's side of the line.”

That’s all the warning Dorcas gives before she is barrelling into Marlene full force, the Gryffindor staggering back three paces. Dorcas catches her round the middle before she can go sprawling in the mud.

She keeps her hand in the curve of Marlene’s waist and turns to address the rest of the two teams. “Just like that. Go ahead and pair off. I’ll count you down.”

Marlene has gone bright red.

Regulus turns to see which Gryffindor he can goad into going against him and finds James Potter already waiting on the other side of the line. He doesn’t say anything, just bends over slightly and offers his shoulder to Regulus the way a knight might offer a lady his sword. Chivalrous. Condescending.

Regulus tries his best to scowl and hinges forward, slotting his shoulder in place against James’. He’s hot from their warm up, Regulus can feel his breath tickling at his neck.

“3, 2, 1-”

Neither of them hesitate, they’re pressing and shoving and heaving at each other. James is growling, the feeling of it vibrating through his chest and transferring to Regulus’ clavicle.

And Regulus is not going to win this. James is a chaser, broad and tall and fucking strong. Regulus is a seeker, he’s quick but he can’t-

James’ foot slips in the mud and he goes down, snagging Regulus’ kit so they land in a heap, Regulus directly on top of him.

James is gasping, heaving in the air Regulus unceremoniously squished out of him. Regulus is trying to catch his breath as well, very conscious of the fact that they’re only inches away.

“Thought you had that, did you?” Regulus says.

Sweat drips down James’ forehead and snags in the tail end of his eyebrow. “I’m right where I want to be, sweetheart.” James reaches his head forward and brushes their noses together. It’s a tiny touch, a fragment of a moment, and then James is dumping Regulus into the mud.

[yacinthemorning]

A Lesson in Listening

Summary: Grian's brother is moving to town and staying with him while he house hunts. While introducing him to his friend, however, Jimmy and Tango seem to make quite a connection. Determined not to suffer through the pining, Grian and Impulse attempt to play matchmaker.

Ships: Grian & Impulse(Platonic), Jimmy/Tango (Romantic), ZITS (Platonic), Grian & Jimmy (Familial)

Warnings: mild acephobia, verbal fight, sibling bullying, misunderstandings, relationship meddling

If Grian was good at one thing, it was connecting people. Not to be a braggart, but he was a sociable sort who was good at reading people, made new friends with ease, and led the pecking order in his circles. It was his great talent, really. One of many.

“Humility not being among them, clearly.”

“Shush.” Grian hissed, whipping his head around to glare daggers into Impulse. The stout man returned it with his trademark innocent smile, as if Grian didn’t know what went on in the head behind it. “You’re distracting me.”

Impulse chuckled. “What’s there to distract from?”

“I’ll have you know mixing friend groups is a very delicate process!” Grian explained, holding his phone to show the opened notepad doc. “Inviting the wrong person could be the difference between success and disaster.”

“I think you’re overthinking things, G. Anyone who’d get along with you will probably get along with your brother.”

Therein lied the problem, though. Jimmy was nothing like Grian. Okay, well, nothing was a bit of a strong word. Jimmy was extroverted and sociable like Grian, and they both had a fondness for mischief and cats. And maybe Jimmy was the first person Grian always invited to karaoke night when he was in town, because no one else was quite as enthusiastic as they were. But other than that they were nothing alike! For one, unlike Grian, Jimmy was a massive loser.

“That’s a bit rude.”

Grian squawked. “Would you please stop reading my mind!”

“You should stop speaking your mind, then.” Impulse shrugged and returned to scrolling through his phone. Grian had assigned him the task of picking out the venue for the night out, being far more familiar with the town than Grian. He paused, “You might as well monologue, I know you want to.”

“I don’t monologue! I’m not Scar.” Another name was struck out on the list. Doc was angry at him right now, anyways. “I just want things to go well, can I not be excited that Tim is moving closer? I’ve barely got to see him more than once every other month for the past several years! By the way, we can’t-“

“Can’t eat red meat so make sure there’s other options, yeah, I know.” A large hand patted down on Grian’s head, ruffling his hair.

He pouted, falling back into the cushions of his couch. “I feel like you do not appreciate the skill needed to coordinate you people. It’s like herding cats, you know.”

“Why do you think we leave it to you?” Impulse leaned over Grian’s shoulder. “Who you got so far, anyways?”

“You, Scar, Gem, and Cleo. Mostly people he’s met before at least.”

A curious hum filled the air and Grian patiently waited for whatever idea was brewing in Impulse’s head. There were a few taps to his screen, then, “You think Tango can come?”

“Tango?” Grian’s eyebrow quirked up. “Isn’t he hauled up in his basement working on some game right now?” While most certainly a good friend, Tango was one Grian went almost just as long without seeing as his brother half a day’s drive away, despite being a street away. Once he had an idea he would dedicate himself to it until it was done.

Impulse sighed. “Yeah. Zed was able to get him outside for an hour last week, and he went on some business trip for a bit, but he also hasn’t eaten in like two days last I checked. It’d be good excuse to drag him out. He’s gonna forget what real people sound like outside his headphones if we don’t.”

“I honestly don’t know how he expects to survive if he moves out from you guys.”

“I already made him promise to give me a set of spare keys when he does.”

Grian tilted his head as he stared at his last message to the man in question. Something about a crazy idea for a remote-controlled cat toy he thought of. In all honesty it wasn’t the worst idea. Not the cat toy- Tango was a strong personality who left a big impression, but he was always polite. Certainly much more introverted than everyone else going, but not nearly as bad as Zed. At least, when he remembered to leave his basement. It couldn’t do them any harm. At the very worst he could sit in the corner and chatter with Impulse. “Yeah, sure, let’s invite him.” He said, already typing. 

Impulse gave a thumbs up. “Tell him we’re gonna go to that barbeque place he loves, that’ll get him.”

“I said-”

“They have plenty of chicken and even vegetarian options, I double checked. It’s right across from the bowling alley, too. And call him, don’t text, or he’ll never see it.”

It was a small miracle Tango agreed to go. It was a small miracle he answered his phone at all. The mention of barbeque worked, though. How much of the rest of the evening they could convince him to stick around for had yet to be seen, but Grian was hopeful he’d stay a little while at least.

Impulse could deal with Tango, though. Right now, Grian had his hands full with Jimmy. They were running ten minutes behind because his poor little brother couldn’t bear going a day without a bubble bath. “C’mon, Tim, get in the car!” He shouted from the window.

Jimmy stumbled in, nearly dropping his phone between the seats in the process. “I’m hurrying, I’m hurrying, I just had to send a text. I thought this was supposed to be fun?” He whined. The second his door was closed Grian began driving, not waiting for him to get his seatbelt in. He was so tall and lanky he’d just smash his head through the glass whether he had one on or not, anyways.

“It’s called punctuality, Timmy. Something the hosts should have!”

“Alright, I get it.” He slumped back into his seat, caving as he always did. It must be hard, having an older brother who was always right. Of course, it was much harder being said brother, as Grian could attest.

The car ride was quiet, only the radio filling the space while Grian worked to remember where he needed to go. Jimmy was the first to break the silence, “So, I’ve scheduled some tours for this week.”

Grian hummed. “Anything promising?”

“Actually yeah.” He chirped, pulling out his phone. Before he could shove it in Grian’s face he put his hand up. It’d only been a month since he rear-ended a Toyota, and he’ll be damned if he hit someone else. The last thing his friends needed was to reignite the jokes about him being too short to see over the dashboard. Jimmy made a whine but didn’t try again. “There’s a place not far out of town in the farmlands. It’s small and old, but it’s an actual house with over half an acre.”

“I dunno why you care so much about land. A condo downtown is way better.”

“It’s nice, isn’t it? I could have a garden.”

“I guess.” The obnoxiously large sign for the barbeque glared high above the trees and buildings around it just up ahead. “Oh, we’re already here. Should be mostly people you met before, by the way.”

“That’s fine.”

Pulling into the parking lot, Grian could already see Impulse’s minivan and Cleo’s beat up old car. He clicked his tongue as he pulled up next to them. “See! I told you we were late, everyone’s already here.”

“Oh, come off it, they probably just got here, it’s fine.”

It was not fine, the host should always be first, but he wouldn’t expect Jimmy to understand. The two squabbled all the way inside, only stopping to tell the waiter their booking. A nice large table on the patio already had most of Grian’s friends sitting around, still having yet to be served even drinks. Everyone but Tango despite his phone, unmistakable with its Guy Fieri case, on the table. Bathroom, maybe? He was always terrible about going before he left. Scar was the first to spot them. “G! Timmy! You’re here!”

“That we are.” Grian mumbled and turned to Impulse. “Where’s-”

“Hey, Grian, just in time!” The scratchy voice of Tango shouted too-loudly behind them. He saw Jimmy jump, and both brothers swivelled on their heels. Tango jolted back a bit, friendly wave shrinking to his side at the reaction. His eyes grew wide, locking with Jimmy’s which mirrored him like two deer caught in headlights. “Oh!” He squeaked unintentionally.

It jogged Jimmy out of his fright enough to look away, though Grian took suspicious note of the redness of his ears. He gave his baby brother a raised eyebrow, but he didn’t seem to see it.

“Right, well, Tango, Cleo, this is my brother, Ti-”

“It’s Jimmy.” Jimmy jumped in at lightning speed, holding his hand out for Tango to shake with a wide smile. “The name’s Jimmy.” Tango hesitated for a second, before tentatively shaking back with an equally tentative smile.

“Tango, of the Tek variety. Nice to finally meet you.”

“I thought you said your brother was Tim?” Cleo asked.

Impulse scratched at his bread. “Honestly, I thought it was.”

“It’s not, my name’s Jimmy. Don’t trust anything this man says, he’s a menace.” Jimmy huffed, which got far too enthusiastic an agreement from nearly the whole table for Grian’s liking. Behind him, Tango snuck around back to the table. In a baffling move, as far as Grian was concerned, he paused at the empty chair across from his own and pulled it out. He nodded towards Jimmy, who muttered a sheepish thanks. Grian narrowed his eyes at the engineer, but he seemed to be pointedly not looking at him. A shared look from Impulse, though, let him know he wasn’t the only one who took notice.

“Well, then, Jimmy, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” Cleo reached over the table, offering their hand.

Chatter very quickly picked itself up once they were all sat down. Most was directed towards Jimmy, asking what he did and the places he was looking at and how on earth did he get his hair that perfect. It was a bit awkward with him sitting at the end. Given the middle seat where Grian now sat was also empty, he suspected Tango’s little gentleman’s stunt had messed up the seating arrangement Impulse intentionally left. 

It wasn’t the last. When their drinks came Tango had ordered some crazy bright red fruity slushy monstrosity like he was on vacation or something. For him it might as well be. Something that brightly coloured, with a fruit skewer at that, was basically tempting the gods as far as Jimmy was concerned, who looked more dazzled by it than the already bright blue drink he ordered. Only a sip had been taken before Tango was nudging it towards him, asking, “Wanna try?” Which he wholeheartedly accepted.

Honestly, between that and the conversation somehow always managing to close into a back and forth between the pair, Grian wanted to gag. Did his brother have absolutely no shame? Or maybe Grian was just bitter he had to order something lighter as their driver. It was at least funny to watch Scar also ask for a sip and be completely ignored.

A large platter was ordered over individual meals. It was just easier, when everyone wanted to try this and that. Astonishingly, it was probably the first time Grian had witnessed Tango eat a vegetable, when he tried one of the skewers the brothers ordered on the side. That was the power of good barbeque, he supposed.

They finally called it after Gem won the third round of bowling in a row. Grian tapped against the open door of his car, glaring holes in the back of his brother’s head, who was too busy saying goodbye to Tango to notice. “Come ooon Tim!” He finally shouted after the third obnoxious little giggle they shared. When he turned, Grian narrowed his eyes. You ain’t subtle. The pair finally said goodbye for real, and Jimmy ran to get in the car before Grian decided to drive off without him. He’d barely gotten his seatbelt on before he was furiously typing something on his phone. Really?

“So, how was it?” Grian asked.

“It was fun, your friends seem cool.” Was the distracted response.

“Mhm…” He leaned closer over his shoulder. “And how was Tango?”

If it was possible to jump out of one’s skin then Jimmy had jumped out of his skin, muscles, and bones. “Huh?” He squeaked, face red and eyes bugged. Grian only returned it with an unimpressed eye roll.

“Oh please. You nearly dropped a bowling ball on your foot while swooning.”

“Well… He’s a cool guy, isn’t he?”

And that shut Grian up. More efficiently than he would like to admit. He expected Jimmy to deny it, or be too flustered to say much of anything. When Grian failed to reply Jimmy went back to his phone, tapping away with a smile. There was that obnoxious giggle again.

This was not one of the issues Grian anticipated having when his brother told him he was moving. 

“So, how do we set them up?”

Impulse Hummed, spending far too long reading the contents of a can of cream of mushroom like it wasn’t the same can he always bought. “Who?”

“ Who? ” Grian mocked back. “Tim and Tango!”

“Do we need to?” Three more cans joined the first, before they moved on to the broths. Grian threw the bouillon in the cart before his companion could grab a carton that would languish in the back of his fridge. “They seem to be doing fine on their own.”

“No, trust me. I know Tim. He was literally living with his last boyfriend before he realized they were dating and that he liked him. He’s an idiot.”

“And Tango hasn’t exactly been leaving the basement much lately.” Impulse conceded, grabbing a carton of pho broth anyways. Acceptable, Grian supposed.

“So, then, any ideas?”

They paused before entering the next aisle. The larger man’s face twisted in thought. “Well, we could invite him to D&D, run a oneshot, and have their characters drink a love potion until they get the hint.”

“That sounds like a terrible idea, absolutely not.” He wrote it down in his phone for a future session.

“Another dinner?”

“What are the odds of getting Tango out of the house twice?”

“Probably a lot higher than you’d think with how they were acting.”

“What if I gave Timmy a tour of your house and just locked the basement door behind him?”

“You know I’m starting to think we might be bad at this and should leave it to someone else.”

“Nonsense!” Grian grabbed the first bottle of soya sauce he spotted, much to Impulse’s protests. He wasn’t going to sit and wait for him to match the prices to the ounces. “Look, I know Timmy best, and you know Tango best. Logically, there’s no better pair of heads to crack together for this. They’ll thank us at the wedding.”

A jar of pickled bamboo shoots found its way into the cart beside the biggest bag of basmati rice Impulse could pick up. He had to catch his breath before he continued. “Listen, Grian, do you need to… talk, or something?”

“What?” Grian’s head whipped around from the wall of spices he was mulling over. “About what?”

Impulse hunched his shoulders up, cringing slightly. “I dunno, y’know… You’re planning your brother’s wedding to your friend while picking out my groceries for me. I’m not even sure how you found out I was grocery shopping or found me in the store. I don’t think that’s normal, healthy person behaviour.” 

“I am so completely normal and healthy!” He said just a bit too loud.

“You know you can talk to me if you need to.”

This was getting nowhere real fast. “Are you going to help me or not?”

Impulse sighed. “I’ll help.”

“Good. Then, what’s the plan?”

In the end, the plan was little more than ‘wait and see’ with a side sprinkling of putting the pair in as much direct contact as possible. This turned out to be much more work than they anticipated, however. Jimmy had always been a socialite, but he seemed to be gone every other day viewing houses or visiting locations. Meanwhile, Tango did as he does and made himself busy constantly. Every group activity Grian planned was lucky to get even one of them, and he was about to lose his damn mind.

Their big break finally showed itself one evening, when Jimmy dropped in with Grian. Well, it was more like Grian promised to drive him to do some errands and made a left turn away from the mall and directly to the ZITS house instead. A decision Jimmy was not familiar enough with the town yet to notice until it was too late. Just the sound of Jimmy’s voice managed to draw Tango upstairs to see what was going on in his kitchen, where the rest of them were chatting.

Immediately the annoying little giggles started up again. If there was one thing in this world that could make Grian try to keep them apart, it was that giggle.

“By the way, Jimmy,” Skizz piped up from where he leaned against the sink. “You still need a lift tomorrow?”

When had Jimmy found time to befriend Skizz? Who knows. Knowing the two of them they probably bumped into each other on the street and kept talking till the sun went down. Extroverts were so exhausting. (He ignored the little Impulse-ish voice nagging that Grian was also something of an extrovert.)

“Yeah, sorry, I appreciate it.”

“Where you going?” Impulse asked.

“Got another house tour.” Tango of all people replied. Maybe that wasn’t all that surprising, though, given the amount Grian has spotted Jimmy texting the past few days.

“Is that so? Will you be going with them?” Grian teased, but instead got a toothy grin back.

“Yessiree!”

Really? Inviting your crush house hunting? Was that forward or just weird? Either way, it was an opportunity. “You know, Tim, you haven’t invited me to go with you.” He whined, putting on his best puppy dog eyes. 

Unfortunately, while Jimmy’s talents were sparse, this was one area where he outranked Grian by a factor of magnitudes and had unlocked absolute immunity, or something. “Yeah. That was on purpose.” He said bluntly, not even looking away from Tango, who laughed. In fact, everyone laughed. Even Impulse, the traitor.

Grian wouldn’t give up so easily, however. “Well I think you should. So where is it?”

“What? You’ll just embarrass me, I’m not telling you!” He squeaked, finally looking at his kind, sweet, dear older brother.

“Yes, you are!”

“No, I’m not!”

And that was how Jimmy ended up in a headlock on ZITS’s kitchen floor, Impulse reluctantly using Jimmy’s phone to text Grian the address on his calendar. Tango, simp that he was, managed to distract Grian by jokingly calling Jimmy honey, forcing Grian to let go in order to pretend to hurl, during which time Jimmy made his escape back to the car. 

He won though, and the next day when Jimmy pulled up with Skizz and Tango to the house tour, Grian and Impulse were already waiting there with the realtor.

“I can’t believe you.” Jimmy dragged his hands down his face. “Don’t you have to, I don’t know, work?”

“Jokes on you, I’m my own boss.” Grian puffed up his chest.

Tango patted Jimmy on the back and turned the both of them towards the poor, confused realtor. “Let’s just get this over with.” He soothed, to which Jimmy gave him a saccharine smile.

The property was ridiculously nice. It wasn’t especially big, but it was lined by woodlands and already had a garden, albeit in need of some severe TLC. There was even an old chicken coop to the side of the house that only needed new fencing and cleaning. The house itself was a one-story cutesy cottage-like thing. It was older, but whomever had lived in it last had the wiring redone and appliances replaced. The bedroom was big, too, as they tended to be in these older houses, and the bathroom had a proper large tub. There was a spare office room with a nice big window to the garden. The garage was separate, and large enough to be a workshop. All that while being well within the range of good internet and still close enough one could walk to town if they really wanted to. 

It was, essentially, Jimmy’s dream home. The only issue Jimmy seemed to have was the fact that the wall between the living room and kitchen had been knocked out for a more modern open concept design with the largest windows in the house.

“It’d probably be a pain to heat in winter, right?” He asked no one in particular. 

Grian knew jack all about houses, and only shrugged. It still wasn’t that big, so he imagined not. Impulse and Skizz seemed to mull the idea over a little longer. Tango, though, saw an opportunity, and Grian had to give him credit because the man took it without hesitation. His arm was around Jimmy’s shoulder, toothy grin leaned in a bit too close. “Well, that sounds like a good excuse to cuddle up in bed all winter, hm?”

Jimmy’s cheeks turned pink. He muttered something under his breath that made Tango chuckle. Grian rolled his eyes towards Impulse, who seemed almost too shocked by his friend’s forwardness to notice.

More questions were asked, things Grian was glad he never had to worry about as a condo guy. Owning a home seemed like so much work, but Jimmy had lists upon lists. Of course, it was Jimmy, and even with lists he forgot certain things. But Tango seemed ready to pick up the slack with his own barrage of inquiries. 

“I think,” Jimmy said, looking at the kitchen with a bit of awe. “I think this might be it, guys.”

“Yeah?” Tango’s eyes practically sparkled with excitement. Jimmy nodded.

The realtor stepped up. “There aren’t any other serious inquiries at the moment, I think you have a good chance if you put in the asking price.” Jimmy nodded, and the realtor went off to his car to make a call.

Grian pursed his lips at his brother, though. “Are you sure you can afford that? I know you’ve saved up and all, but it’s still a lot.”

Jimmy beamed though, clearly overwhelmed with excitement. “Of course, you think we would look at houses we can’t afford?”

“I mean if I’m honest kind of, but- wait. We?”

“I’ll have you know, despite the beliefs of certain individuals, my credit score’s top notch.” Tango patted his chest proudly. “And between the two of us we have more than enough savings for the down payment.”

Grian felt the wires in his brain short circuit and reboot. An unholy screech came from his throat. “What!”

Jimmy and Tango both side-eyed each other, their awkward smiles caught between guilty and like they were ready to burst out laughing. “You… Thought I could buy a home on my own?” Jimmy asked, hiccupping in the middle.

Impulse looked just as dumbfounded. “When did you work this out?” His voice came out hoarse.

It was Tango’s turn to be confused, raising an eyebrow. “Um, months ago? I told you, Impy.”

“You said you were thinking about moving out, not buying a house with a stranger!”

“Wait-” Skizz burst out laughing, pointing at Grian and Impulse. “You guys really didn’t know?”

“No, why do you know!”

“Cause I listen to my roommates?”

“Hold on. Months ago?” Grian pushed them out of the way, getting into his brother’s face.

It seemed Tango was no longer able to hold in his laughter, leaning on Jimmy for support while Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck. “I honestly couldn’t tell if you’d actually forgotten or if this was some bit.” He admitted.

“We’ve been together for almost three years.” Tango wheezed out between cackles.

“Excuse me?” Balked Grian. “Since when? You’ve never met!” His head whipped between the two. How on earth-

A finger twirled absently in the air as Jimmy tried to explain. “Do you remember your Halloween party? The one me and Joel attended, where Tango was dressed up as an imposter?”

“Yeah?” It was the biggest party he’d ever held, how could he forget? His brow creased. “But that doesn’t make any sense, I never got to introduce you two cause you both went… home… early.” Grian’s eyes went wide as the puzzle pieces clicked into place.

Tango leaned against Jimmy’s shoulder with a smirk. “There it is.”

“Oh. My god.”

“I told you he doesn’t ever listen to me.” Jimmy groaned.

“You two-”

“Yeah.”

Grian gasp cracked. “Jimmy you slut !”

“ Excuse me? ” Jimmy shouted back in equal amounts of disbelief and anger.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw the realtor pause in the entryway, then slowly back out of view once more.

“You heard me!”

“What do you think we did!”

“Well you weren’t enjoying my party, that’s for sure!”

 “Okay, okay, everybody calm down.” Skizz stepped in, pushing Grian towards Impulse, who seemed to hold Grian back on instinct more than anything as he was still lost in shock.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Impulse asked, giving his housemate a look of betrayal. It was returned with concern.

“I did? I swear I did.”

“Dipple Dop, he told us he was busy in call with his partner all the time. He extended his work trips several times.”

“That was Timmy?” He stumbled back, leaning on the counter. “I thought he meant, like, an MMO buddy.”

“Yeah, and you certainly never told me!” Grian huffed, which Jimmy returned.

“I did tell you, but you didn’t listen! Or did you just do that thing like with Scott where you thought I wasn’t aware I was dating the guy I lived with for two months just because I told you we hadn’t-”

“You know what?” Skizz clapped his hands together. “I think we all need to just take a deep breath, okay? Everybody just breathe. In,” He took a deep breath, of which his housemates joined in while the brothers continued to glare at each other. “And out.” They all let out a long sigh.

 A brief silence fell over the group, only interrupted by a nervous knock at the door. The realtor stuck his head in, eyes darting between the group. “Um, Mister Solidarity, Mister Tek, could I speak to you now?”

“Yes, one second.” Jimmy said, voice tight. The pair left to talk outside.

Grian and Impulse went home after that, waiting for the other three to return. They said little, Grian fuming while Impulse stared at his lap like his dog just died. Zed popped in to say he was going out, at which point he was let in on the day’s events and gave them both odd looks. Had they really been the only ones who didn’t know? 

By the time everyone else arrived back at the house they’d pulled themselves together somewhat. Not entirely, but enough to ask questions without shouting.

“So, you’re really leaving?” Impulse asked, voice almost watery. Tango’s posture softened with his smile, and pulled the larger man into a big hug.

“Oh, buddy, I told you I was gonna. I’m a big boy now!”

“Yeah, but… I dunno. We’ve lived together since college. I didn’t think this would actually happen…”

Skizz rubbed his back. “Hey, he ain’t movin’ cross country, he’s just down the road. We’ll see him all the time.”

“Yeah! I promise, Impy, I ain’t going nowhere.”

The three continued to talk among each other, comforting their friend, so Grian left them be. Instead, he turned his attention onto Jimmy, who still looked huffy, with his arms crossed and a glare squarely on Grian.

“I told you.”

“Well, maybe you should have told me better.” Grian turned his nose up as an almost automatic response. Jimmy threw his arms in the air and stomped off to the doorway, and immediately Grian felt the regret. He chased after his little brother. “Wait, Tim. I’m…” A warbled wheeze escaped his throat, straining to get the dreaded word out. “Ssso-…rry... That I didn’t listen.”

The shift was near-instant, disdain laxing into smugness. “There, was that so hard?”

“Immensely.”

“Oh, come off it, you big baby.”

“I just don’t get it.” Grian grabbed his hair. “How did I miss that you two were dating? Why didn’t Tango say something when we invited him to dinner?”

“Well, it probably started with the fact that you introduce me to everyone as Tim and his boyfriend’s name is Jimmy.” He sneered, eyebrow raised.

Well, he had him there. Not that he would ever admit that to his brother’s face. “I still can’t believe you ditched my party to hook up with my friend.”

“Oh my god, we didn’t hook up!” Jimmy threw his head back. “We just went to get Mcdonald’s and watch movies because Tango almost had a panic attack at the number of people you invited and couldn’t breathe.”

“In my defence, I didn’t expect that many people to actually show up.”

“Either way, stop projecting.”

“Wh- excuse me?”

“Tango’s the same as me. I can assure you nothing like that would ever happen.”

Grian pouted. Well, at least they were happy and close by. “Fine, I’ll forgive you if you can get Tango to come to roller derby night.”

“Uh, I don’t have anything I need to be forgiven for, and I’m not going to make Tango do something he doesn’t want to do.”

“But Tim, consider: Tango falling on his butt in the most hideous disco suit.”

That gave Jimmy pause, thinking for a solid moment before a smile stretched behind his hand. “Alright, fine.”

“Yes!” Grian pumped his fist into the air, nearly smacking Impulse in the face as the group joined them.

“What’s going on out here?”

“Nothing.” Both brothers replied, matching smiles immediately getting them suspicious looks. Jimmy pushed past them to grab Tango’s hand and drag him towards the basement. “C’mon, we have to finish planning.”

“Yessir.” Tango saluted with a chuckle. 

As they retreated, Grian shouted after them. “Oh, Tango!”

“Yeah?” Bless his soul, he was too busy giving his partner a doofy look that was wiped away the second he turned to see Grian. He did his best to bore a hole through the man’s skull.

“You better watch your back. I know where you sleep.”

“Well, I’d hope so.” Grian didn’t like that grin. “Be weird if you didn’t know where your brother was.”

And that was how Grian began to plan the death of Tango Tek.

[atommadly]

Drabble | On Thin Ice

Pairing: Tom Cavanagh x Reader Warnings: none Masterlist

“You’ll be fine,” Tom assured you, his voice laced with that trademark mix of charm and amusement.

You stood at the edge of the ice rink, wobbling precariously on skates that felt like they were held together by sheer hope. The icy expanse before you might as well have been a minefield.

“Easy for you to say,” you muttered, gripping the railing like your life depended on it. “You’re practically a figure skater compared to me.”

Tom laughed, the sound warm and unbothered by the cold air. “Not quite. But I do have some experience. Trust me, you’ll get the hang of it.”

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. “And if I don’t?”

“Then you fall,” he said simply, skating backward with infuriating ease. “And I’ll catch you. That’s the deal.”

Your stomach fluttered, though you tried to play it off with a roll of your eyes. “I’m not sure I trust you, Cavanagh.”

“Now that,” he said, skating back toward you and holding out a gloved hand, “is an insult. I’m hurt, Y/N.”

You hesitated, staring at his outstretched hand. His grin was infectious, though, and the promise in his eyes—steady, sure, and teasing all at once—was enough to convince you.

With a deep breath, you released the railing and grabbed his hand. “Fine. But don’t you dare let me fall on purpose for a laugh.”

Tom’s lips twitched as if he were fighting back a quip, but he nodded solemnly. “Cross my heart. Now, come on. Baby steps.”

He guided you onto the ice, your legs shaking like a newborn deer’s. He skated backward in front of you, his hands steadying yours as he talked you through each wobbly movement.

“You’re doing great,” he said, a little too enthusiastically when you managed to take two unsteady glides in a row.

“I’m doing awful,” you shot back, though you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped you.

Tom leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. “That’s the trick to skating: confidence. If you think you look amazing out here, everyone else will think so too.”

You snorted. “Sure. I’ll remember that when I faceplant in front of all these kids.”

But slowly, with Tom’s patience and guidance (and the occasional laugh when you flailed dramatically), you found a rhythm. When you finally made it around the rink without holding onto him, you threw your arms in the air triumphantly.

“See?” Tom said, skating up beside you. “Natural talent.”

“More like a natural disaster,” you quipped, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

Tom grinned, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he steered you toward the exit. “Next time, we’re working on spins.”

“Next time?”

“You didn’t think you’d get out of this that easily, did you?”

As you laughed, leaning into his warmth against the cold, you decided that maybe ice skating wasn’t so bad after all—at least, not with Tom by your side.

[feral-sylki]

You know I think episode three Loki and Sylvie is favourite them because they’re goofs and disasters I’m being so serious. They’re such losers they’re fuckin disasters both of them. What was Lokis plan. His mastermind plan is so goddamn vague and I love it and on that note. What was Sylvie’s plan. Why did Sylvie bring a tempad with only enough charge for two hops to the mission that is the culmination of her life’s work. Stab each other in the shack just stab ignore the problem outside to focus on knives you’re both such Lokis I can’t even. Sylvie hun you can’t just grab someone in a suggestive way like that and then blue screen when they ask you what you’re doing even if you were trying to magically ransack their brain. Every line of their dialogue is hilarious and unexpected and fits so fucking well it’s insane but importantly they’re not trademark “cool” they’re very them like they’re both so very genuinely playfully fully everything a good Loki we’ve been wanting to see is and it’s glorious because that’s what makes them cool. Them being genuinely and goofily the character we’ve come to love, with the good sides and bad, being capable badasses and also just utter unhinged can’t convince one old lady with a gun not to shoot either of you in the chest literally you could have died omg disasters

[darkhighness]

Good Omentober Day 6 - The Bentley

Prompt by @disaster-dog

During a getaway in Tadfield, Aziraphale grows enamoured with the way humans spent their summers. Crowley can't trust Aziraphale with the Bentley alone. Bubbles ensue.

When Aziraphale burst through the door holding a bucket and car cleaning surprised, Crowley thought he was seeing red.

“What do you think you’re doing with those?” The demon hissed, making a grab for the cursed tools.

“I’m going to clean our car!” Aziraphale beamed proudly. He carried his trademark grin since he’d walked through the door and was truly excited at the possibility of doing something with Crowley. They had been staying in Tadfield for the week and Aziraphale had watched another couple cleaning their car. It simply looked like so much fun.

“You are not going anywhere near her with this rubbish,” Crowley scolded lowly, “We can miracle away any dirt like we always do.”

“Please Crowley,” Aziraphale pleaded. He could tell it was getting desperate so he had to use the one trick that always persuaded the demon. His puppy-dog eyes.

The demon looked at Aziraphale whose wide eyes were staring at him in some kind of adoration. He wanted to say no but Aziraphale knew exactly how to tug on Crowley’s heartstrings and get him to go alone with any kind of plan.

“You can’t wash a car in a waistcoat though, angel.”

“Oh, I’ll get changed most quickly! You best get changed too, Crowley,” Aziraphale beamed before placing the cleaning supplies down and shifting into the next room.

Crowley was less bothered, quickly miracling up a new ensemble. Crowley was never one to wear shorts but the thought of damp jeans clinging to his legs so here he was in a dorky pair of high-cut, quick dry shorts and a black tank top. His loose curls got pulled back into a half-up style and he made sure to bring a towel into the main room for when they were finished. He hadn’t washed a car himself but if any of the videos he’d seen were a good indication, it would be a messy affair. The demon would be absolutely mortified if anyone saw him like this, but it was for his angel so he’d suffer.

Aziraphale, much less confident in his changing wardrobe settled on something a little more conservative. He managed to muster up a button-down hawaiian style shirt with small books on it, rather obnoxiously paired with a pair of light blue board shorts. He was truly enthused to make use of the limited good weather and would enjoy all the sun he could.

Aziraphale exited the room and Crowley’s jaw immediately dropped. He’d gotten used to seeing the angel in his centuries-dated ensemble and while this was somewhat of a welcome change, it threw the demon off guard entirely, “I like the…colours.”

Aziraphale blushed at the demon’s compliment, “And you look gorgeous as always. I didn’t know you shaved your legs?” He quizzed.

Red couldn’t even begin to describe the colour of Crowley’s face, “I mean, plenty of people do…”

The angel walked over and kissed Crowley’s cheek, “I think it’s cute.”

He grabbed the bucket and headed outside where the Bentley had parked herself perfectly on the grass, almost in anticipation of her bath.

“See Crowley, she’s excited!” Aziraphale gushed.

Crowley went to unfurl the hose from the side of their temporary residence. As he moved closer and began to fill the bucket with water. Aziraphale rather keenly squeezed the soap into the container and watched all the bubbles form, giggling with an almost childish delight.

Content to be getting attention from her parents, the Bentley began to play music, unprompted. Crowley’s embarrassment had almost faded but it all flooded back as ‘Fat Bottomed Girls’ began to blast out of the car’s radio.

The demon just grabbed one of the sponges and began to wash the bonnet of the car in a circular motion. Bubbles began to cover the entire car as Aziraphale joined in. For a while, they were just enjoying the company.

At some point, Aziraphale turned around hastily and his sponge landed firmly in the middle of Crowley’s chest, leaving warm soapy water dripping off him.

“Angel!” Crowley huffed but as he turned around and saw the giant grin on Aziraphale’s face, he couldn’t stay mad, “Oh, is that how we’re playing now?”

The demon leant down to dip his sponge in the water before hurling it in Aziraphale’s direction, landing squarely in the angel’s back.

Aziraphale gasped in shock, taking one of the rags they’d thrown aside to throw towards Crowley.

“Don’t move, angel,” Crowley grinned before reaching into the bucket and scooping a handful of bubbles. He moved closer to Aziraphale and pressed the bubbles onto his partner’s face, making a makeshift bubble beard.

The demon doubled over in laughter watching Aziraphale’s dumbstruck expression.

Azirapahle was hardly about to allow that and returned by taking a handful of bubbles and making a movement towards Crowley’s hair. In his movement, he slipped on the wet grass and began to fall.

Crowley rushed to catch the angel, holding him up from the ground and he just smiled at his angel. Aziraphale, slightly out of breath from the whole affair just let out a small breath and straightened up.

“Bit too old to be having this much fun, don’t you think?” Crowley teased, wiping the remaining bubbles from the angel’s face.

“Never too old. Hasn’t stopped us before, why start now?”

Crowley pulled the angel close to him once again, one hand resting on his waist and the other moving around his shoulder. He slowly pressed their lips together, enjoying the admittedly sloppy but all-the-while perfect point of connection. Aziraphale indulged in the kiss, his movements matching Crowley’s as they became one. After a moment, he slowly pulled away to stare into Aziraphale’s eyes.

“We should do this more often, angel.”

[giuliettacapuleti]

An obnoxiously long summary of Frank Wildhorn’s Carmen absolutely no one asked for:

The musical was originally put on in the Czech Republic in 2008, and actually became so popular it broke box office records for the theater. Despite this, I’d never heard of it until I read that the Budapesti Operettszínház is putting it on soon. It’s been put on in Japan, Korea, and Austria, and seems to have been popular in Korea but not Austria (not sure about Japan). There’s an English demo but I can only find 2 songs from it.

If you are familiar with Frank Wildhorn’s work you’ll know he likes to play fast and loose with accuracy regarding the source material. The plot is a huge departure from the opera, which is fine with me but probably not so much if you like it.

The musical is allegedly actually an adaptation of the novella that the opera is based on, but it doesn’t really resemble that either. The musical partly takes place in a circus and this makes Carmen’s posse a group of performers instead of smugglers which to me is neat but again, not for everyone.

Overall the plot is. Well. Something. It’s got some trademark Wildhorn-ness going on that if you’re familiar with Dracula and Jekyll and Hyde you will likely be annoyed with but not surprised by.

I am not 100% sure on the time period in which the musical takes place, it appears to be the 50s but there are a few hints that it’s more current than that, so I’m not sure. It’s possible it’s deliberately meant to be vague.

On to the Summary (FULL DISCLOSURE IT’S 100% NOT SERIOUS AND REALLY LONG SORRY)

The musical starts off with a flamenco dance off between a random woman and the sexy and confident Carmen, who more or less steals the random woman’s dancing partner. The random woman isn’t having it. Suddenly a bunch of random people with torches burst in and start fighting with soldiers (???). Then they stop fighting and just chill because I guess the dance-off is more important. Carmen and Random Woman continue their dance-off, which culminates in Carmen either waving a knife at or actually slashing Random Woman across the face.

A woman (possibly fate itself) sings about fate. It wouldn’t be a European musical without someone singing about fate.

Meanwhile, the citizens of a picturesque town in Spain (?) are celebrating the engagement of police officer José Rivera and Caterina, the mayor’s daughter. The mayor gives a speech about how moral and Totally Not Secretly Corrupt the town is. Two seconds later, the mayor and José’s superior, Captain Zuniga, laugh about how the currently moral José will soon become as corrupt as they are (side note: I think they are meant to be Spanish but the officers’ uniforms are giving Carabinieri). We immediately know the mayor is shady because he wears sunglasses and a white suit, has a pinky ring and smokes a cigar. That and the fact he sings about how corrupt and greedy he is.

José and Caterina sing a sweet little duet about how much they love each other despite only knowing each other for a few months. We all know love duets mean impending disaster in European musicals so stay frosty.

Caterina leaves and Carmen and her friends appear in the mist, talking about how they want something fun to do in the boring, vanilla town. Carmen notices José standing there and kisses him after giving him a rose. José has no object permanence I guess, and forgets Caterina, immediately running after Carmen. Prime bf material right there.

The next day, the circus performers are hanging out at the Carnival. Carmen sings a song about how desirable she is, which would sound vain except for the fact that literally everyone wants her, so she’s just telling us how it is. José appears with the rose Carmen gave him. José’s bff and fellow officer Inmar, aka the only sane person in this entire musical, appears and tells José to fucking chill. Zuniga, AKA Officer Creep, suggests they arrest Carmen for no reason so they can take her in for “questioning”. A bunch of men try to assault Carmen, so she pulls a knife on one of them. Zuniga uses this as an excuse to have her arrested, and orders José to take her to the station. Carmen sings a song about how no one owns her (yas queen), and José tells her he has morals and is totally not weak and definitely won’t cheat on his fiancée no really he’s cereal. José is Madonna-Whore Complexing on main and calls her a devil, comparing her to the angelic Caterina. His crisis of conscience lasts LITERALLY two seconds, and he and Carmen start making out, only to be interrupted by Zuniga, who tells José off and gives Carmen the ultimatum of sleeping with him or being put in jail. Carmen rejects him and runs off, while he calls her a whore and chases after her (peak rejected guy on bumble behavior).

Meanwhile, Caterina is in her room worried about José. Her aunt calms her down by singing her a song about how she should totally have sex with José and recounts her own romantic exploits. Caterina is reluctant because she wants to honor her mother’s memory and not disappoint her dad (ew). Later, José comes through her window and basically tries to pressure her into sex because Carmen made him horny (what a guy!). Caterina sings about her conflicting feelings and almost has sex with him, but they are interrupted by Caterina’s sketchy dad knocking on the door. He exhibits creepy behavior and then leaves.

The next day, girls from the town are at a beach, talking shit about Carmen and her crew. Enter Carmen and her crew. The townsgirls make fun of them, but Carmen is unbothered. One of the non-hostile girls asks Carmen to teach them how to be sexy, and we get a song about that. Admittedly, the song starts out about how to be sexy to men, but it turns into a nice bonding moment and ultimately is about being confident so I’ll allow it. Unfortunately, Inmar and José ruin everything and tell Carmen and her posse return to their camp. One of Carmen’s friends says what everyone’s thinking and wonders wtf Carmen sees in José. Carmen and José start grinding right in front of Inmar’s salad, and Inmar is understandably pissed at him for remaining with her. José reminds Carmen he Totally Won’t Cheat on Caterina No Really. Carmen hints that she is unavailable too and is dating (?) a really scary guy who apparently even scares police (more on this later). Then it’s Real Sadgirl Hours for her and she sings about how everyone is ultimately alone and she really wants José for reasons that are still a mystery to literally everyone.

Back at the police station, Inmar calls José out and berates him for wanting to cheat on Caterina. José doesn’t listen and is all ‘it’s so hard being me uwu’. Despite his friend being a fucking idiot, Inmar is a real one and warns him about Zuniga anyway. They sing a song about how José should/should not sleep with Carmen. Listening to José talking about how it’s soooo hard to not cheat on Caterina is like. That’s so sad world’s smallest violin Alexa play despacito etc. Then the mayor and Zuniga join in and sing about how they also want Carmen. Lana Del Rey was right the boys the girls they all want Carmen.

That night, the circus puts on a free show for the town. Everyone goes, including the now Carmen-ified townswomen. Inmar gets a cute moment with one of the girls (fuck everyone else I respect YOU).

Carmen and her girlies appear and perform a very catchy song about living in the moment and having no regrets. The townspeople are vibing but the party is crashed by Carmen’s Very Scary bf (?) Garcia, who owns the circus but has been off somewhere (it’s never explained where but whatever). We know he’s Bad News because he wears a black leather coat, a chain necklace + black boots, has an eye scar, an excessive amount of black eyeliner, a chest AND neck AND arm tattoo, and throws knives around.

Ok, on one hand, the interesting thing about the opera (though not the novella) is that José starts out being a good person but descends into evil and this guy being obviously Bad from the beginning removes that theme, but on the other more important hand, I eat this stuff right up and I’m not mad about it. Dolhai Attila and Homonnay Zsolt are playing him in the upcoming Hungarian version but you know who would have been PERFECT?? Szabó P. Szilveszter that man would make this dude PATHETIC.

Anywhoo, Garcia is pissed that Carmen put on a show for free and apparently he’s another guy who thinks he owns her. Obviously he missed the multiple ‘I only belong to myself’ songs she sang whilst he was off doing fuck all. Where is Elisabeth singing Ich Guhör Nur Mir when you need her? José arrests Carmen again to protect her from both Zuniga and Garcia, who apparently gets a pass for throwing knives at people in front of the entire police force but whatever he’s a knife thrower so maybe they figure that’s just what he does.

Caterina is upset that José is taking Carmen in, but he explains that she’s not safe with the increasingly thirsty Zuniga. Which, ok, is true, but we all know damn well that’s not the main reason.

Carmen and José are about to have sex but are interrupted by Zuniga AGAIN. He pulls a gun on Carmen (or José I literally cannot tell) and demands Carmen have sex with him. But here comes Garcia with a steel chair Garcia has ALSO been following them and attacks Zuniga. Carmen and José run away while Garcia fights Zuniga. I NEED to mention that Garcia is wearing a vest under his jacket but is otherwise shirtless. What does the vest even DO. What is the point of a vest if you are shirtless under it like ugufhddhgddhdh

There’s a neat little fight scene until Garcia remembers he’s a knife thrower and literally has knives in his pants, and stabs Zuniga before shooting him with his own gun. He then frames José for the murder.

Act I ends with the entire town singing about fate and fateful decisions (did you notice they are themes??) while Carmen and José are finally about to have sex without Zuniga interrupting them (RIP asshole).

The police force is not only corrupt, but corrupt and stupid, so they don’t dust for fingerprints on the gun used to kill Zuniga or anything and go straight to assuming José killed him. The mayor is Big Mad, not because José killed Zuniga (lol) but because he cheated on his daughter, who is worried about losing José (girl why, just let the trash take itself out). Garcia is Big Mad and jealous, and gets a line about how he is ‘the fear they can’t outrun’ just in case you weren’t already 100% certain this is the Big Bad. Like. Just in case. In case you didn’t get it.

Now we have a nifty circus scene full of circus performers (I just KNOW Opi will have a field day). Hopefully later productions do without the zoo animals :(

Carmen confronts Garcia over framing José for murder, and he responds by accusing her of having real feelings for José before singing a song about how he owns her and she can never escape him (tbh just typical boss/employee behavior). Despite the (obviously) disturbing lyrics it’s kind of a bop. I do think it’s dependent on the singer - the Czech actor has a rough and unpolished voice that’s perfect for the song, but I can see it sounding weird when sung by guys with a different vocal type. You know whose voice would be perfect for his songs?? Szabó P. Szilv*gunshot*

Despite the fact he spends the entire song flinging her around the stage, the thing that really upsets her is him saying José will never go for her when he has Caterina. I understand the bar for men is in the Grand Canyon but THAT is what upsets her??? The thought of losing the most Mid man on the planet?? Not the increasingly possessive and violent guy following her around ??? Side note: there is a giant circus poster on stage of Garcia looking sinister while holding knives just in case you somehow still didn’t get that he’s bad news by this point. If you didn’t - no worries! You will be reminded many more times before the musical is over.

Garcia warns Carmen that if the police don’t find José he will kill him and everything he loves.

Meanwhile, the police have been given orders to arrest José or kill him. I’m not all that familiar with police procedure but it seems weird they would kill someone outright just because the mayor tells them to. Why is the mayor even giving orders to the police force ?? I understand he is corrupt but ?? ???? ?????

Inmar, who again, is the only Real One, warns his bff and tells him to get out of town. José actually takes some accountability for his actions but immediately ruins it by forcing poor Inmar to sit through a song about how he is stupid and is not going to leave Carmen. Inmar, for reasons I cannot possibly fathom, still cares about José, and promises he will watch for Garcia at the circus. He leaves but José is not done with his song and forces us to listen to his whining for a few more minutes.

Carmen urges José to run away with her, but he refuses because he wants to clear his name. This man is so stupid !!! He is SO stupid !!! He cannot get worse at this point !!!

Carmen warns him about Garcia wanting to hurt everyone José cared about. It takes José a few seconds, but he eventually realizes that means Caterina.

Apparently he can get worse at this point, and urges Carmen to warn Caterina. THIS IS MAYBE ONE OF THE DUMBEST PLOT POINTS IN ANY SHOW EVER ASIDE FROM WHATEVER WAS HAPPENING IN LOVE NEVER DIES. Alas, it is needed because Carmen and Cat need a showdown.

And showdown they do have - in a church no less! They start off antagonistic (and Caterina finally has a Bad Bitch moment!!) but then bond over how stupid they are for falling in love. They are soo right I could not agree with this song more. Girlies you are stupid. They have a cute little moment where they hold hands and you start to hope they will run away together and leave José behind but NOPE. Caterina has the potential to be such an interesting character but noooooo we had to go the ‘personality amounts to loving a man’ route. We had hints Caterina could be an interesting character !!! She mentions feeling desire but feeling guilty about it because of religion and feeling like she is disappointing her family !! More of that !!! More deconstruction of the Good Girl trope instead of playing it straight !!! They could have went with her realizing she didn’t really love José and just was doing what was expected of her but spoiler alert this does not happen !!!

Caterina, who now realizes Carmen actually loves José, suggests to her that they work together to protect José and expose Garcia as the murderer. WHY ARE YOU PUTTING YOUR LIVES IN DANGER TO PROTECT THIS SKRUNKLY ASS MAN MAMMA MIA HE IS NOT WORTH IT. Carmen believes it’s too dangerous for her, but Caterina says she is tired of playing it safe. Caterina’s aunt pops out of nowhere and tells them it’s totally a good plan. They decide to draw out Garcia at the circus (HE OWNS THE CIRCUS AND IS A KNIFE THROWER WHERE TF ELSE WOULD HE BE WHY DO YOU NEED TO DRAW HIM OUT OH MY GODDD).

The circus is about to put on a show (presumably for money this time), and the townspeople are congregating to watch. Jeff Bezos I mean the mayor arrives wearing his sunglasses at night, causing that song to be stuck in my head along with the admittedly catchy songs from this musical. We get more circus performances featuring a lot of fire (I cannot WAIT to see the Does My Health Insurance Pay For This amount of fire the Hungarian version is going to go with).

You came to see a musical but SURPRISE! You’re getting a circus performance too. Does this make up for the wonky plot points? You decide.

Garcia arrives on the scene to sing about how the circus and everyone in it belongs to him and that everyone should be totally scared of him because he has knives in his pants and can kill people. Inexplicably they are scared, even the fucking whole ass police force that showed up. I understand he can throw knives but I don’t think that would be any match for, say, seven guns. CALL ME CRAZY. I also don’t think he has actual jurisdiction over anything just because he has a circus. Call me crazy again.

Anyway, the song is banger but is alas, too short. Why do the bad guys always get the bangers and bops ??? I’m not complaining but it’s a valid question. You know who would play this part perfectly - ?? * gets dragged away *.

Garcia grabs Caterina and makes her part of his knife throwing act. For some reason the mayor allows it. Whatever, I’ve given up trying to understand. Before he can throw the knife, Carmen appears and offers herself as the target. While it’s a badass moment and cool of Carmen to save Caterina, it makes no sense. But whatever! It’s dramatic!

Anyway, Carmen offers to have knives thrown at her by an extremely violent guy who explicitly says he wants to kill her. He tells her that he would definitely kill her in front of everyone because he is not afraid to die. First off, I don’t think the audience (of the circus) was meant to hear him saying that but I wonder about how much they heard considering they look freaked out when he violently grabs Carmen by the neck. Second, you gotta appreciate a villain who talks the talk and walks the walk. So many bad guys are all *surprised pikachu face* when they actually die, so shoutout to this asshole who is actually committed to his cause.

Garcia, being the professional performer that he is, tells the audience they are going to see something they’ve never seen before (presumably Carmen’s death). Before he can throw the knife, José jumps in front of her. Garcia very loudly and explicitly tells the audience that he is going to kill someone, but the police straight up do not care. José accuses him of killing Zuniga, but his dramatic moment is ruined by Garcia straight up admitting it in front of everyone. He waves his knife around and continues telling everyone how he is going to kill someone. Again, the police just casually watch. Go girl give us nothing.

Garcia throws his knife at José (tbh at this point I was rooting for it) but nooo Carmen jumps in front of him and gets stabbed instead. Inmar (who again is the only bitch I ever respected) fatally shoots Garcia but it is too late. Carmen dies in José’s arms before she can tell him she loves him. To reiterate, this bad bitch died for the most skrunkly ass dude on the planet we HATE to see it.

Caterina walks away from both her sketchy dad and José (yas queen) to follow the procession leading Carmen’s body away.

The personification of Fate, who has apparently also been a fortuneteller at the circus this whole time, tells us the story’s over. Carmen, presumably now in Heaven, sings about how she wouldn’t change anything about her life if given the chance. WELL I WOULD, CARMEN. I WOULD.

….AND YET ??? Barring the plot and some character personality choices I ??? Liked it ??? It has a ton of potential if they just change some things about the plot and characters (I’m serious). The songs have been stuck in my head for days and I like the fact they gave Carmen some depth beyond the standard Femme Fatale archetype. Unfortunately, the wonky plot points and José exist.

[nikatyler]

List 5 facts about a favorite sim of yours, and send this to 10 simblrs whose sims you adore ♥♥♥

Thank you! I'm gonna do Sharon today.

1. I’ve mentioned it recently, but I’m changing up the reason why she comes to Twinbrook a little bit. Originally, her father gets a new job in Twinbrook, but there’s nothing else really about it. That's all, just a new job. Now, there’s a bit more to that. He’s a detective, and he’s been called to the area to solve a strange crime others have been struggling with. He spends most days working on the case over in Bridgeport. He’s very careful with his daughter, he wants to keep her really really safe (maybe too safe), but he’s so busy now, much more than he used to be back at home. He just can't look after her as much as he used to. So, Sharon finds new friends and spends a lot of time with them, she hates being alone in their little rented home. When he finds out, he doesn’t approve at all, but it’s too late. They’re already close and she’s already developed feelings for a certain disaster.

2. Okay this might seem like I’m making it more about Nathan, her father, but no, we’ll get strictly to Sharon in a minute. Anyway, he wasn’t always a, well, stuck up boring serious adult grumpy about the youth today. Back in the day, he was quite a specimen of the rebellious youth too, but he says he learned and matured and grew out of it. Still, something from those days stayed with him, his love for rock music. He’s got a huge collection of old CDs, tapes and vinyls, and he shares this passion with his daughter. It's one of the few remaining things they can bond over. He doesn't get her at all anymore.

3. You might remember that after the Werewolves GP dropped, I was debating making her a werewolf again. Way back when I first created her, she was one, then I scratched it halfway through gen 4, then I started thinking about it again in 2022. Well, I can now tell you that she will be turned into a werewolf, early 30s or something like that. Not gonna go into detail but before that she gets a new coach, he turns out to be a piece of crap, she decides to fire him, he gets angry, turns out he’s a werewolf, and he attacks her and…yeah. That’s about it. 😬

4. Besides dyeing her hair blue (which is totally trademark kinda thingy), she also enjoyed bleaching her hair an even lighter shade of blonde once, but it was really stressful, she thought she was going to lose her hair. She dyes her hair at home always, even if she could afford to go to the salon. It comes with risks sure, but she just prefers it. Salons and hairdressers are too much to handle sometimes 😂

5. One of my favourite things about Sharon and Tyler’s relationship is the way she brings out the serious side of him while he can bring out the funny side of her. It’s one of the clearest signs how well they complete each other.

[myremains]

Next year marks the 2 decade mark for Stockholm based group Self Deception. They’re dropping their 6th album Destroy The Art, which is really quick seeing as number 5 only dropped last year, in no way a complaint I love these guys.

Straight away I wanna talk about the first single “Matthew McConaughey”, I adore it, it’s so much fun with a tinge of silly humour, but make no mistake it’s an absolute banger. Warm up those clicking fingers for “The Great Escape”, it’s got a nice swinging and sliding vibe going on with that chorus, it’s a really frisky song flirting with your eardrums, I can’t not move around to this. After already guesting on Dead By April’s last album, screamer Christopher Kristensen is returning the favour on “Lonliness”, it’s still got its pop sensibilities but its heavy as shit with many Blegh’s, which of course I thoroughly enjoyed, a sort of scratchy melodic chorus which is becoming a part of the trademark sound. “Blood & Scars” is another bruiser with a really emotionally charged chorus, it the build up that really gives it its character particularly with the drumming, much like album opener “Killocain” however that track got the twaaaaang on that riff, you know I’m a slut for twang. “Hysteria” is a decent song but it was just a touch too high on the pop sensibility scale for my liking, it’s got a couple screams but mostly it’s a sort of arena, it’s a similar story with “Beautiful Disaster” but not quite as strong.

Overall I think this album has been and will continue to be a success. They’re a band that really has found its vibe and style in the last couple albums and it just keeps getting more refined with each one. I was absolutely gutted to miss them at Dead By April’s tour earlier this year but I’m on the lookout for any more UK dates!

[8/10]

[greta--gill]

when the feeling sinks in

Rating: T

Words: 3.5k

Status: 1/3

—

Summary:

“Yuri,” she breathes, her body sighing with relief at the sight of the girl in front of her. “What are you doing here?”

“Now that Christmas has passed, I’m here to see you, obviously,” Yuri answers, like she didn’t fly halfway across the world, like it’s perfectly normal to come to an entirely different continent just to see somebody.

Like people are just that rich. She supposes Yuri Han is.

Kitty inches a little closer, taking a deep breath. Yuri's trademark scent reaches her. She smells like pomegranate and mango. She flew almost six thousand miles, spent over twelve hours on a plane, and she still smells like her soap.

It’s awesome. --

(Or, with Kitty’s scholarship and expulsion up for debate again, Yuri heads to the US after Christmas to hopefully find more reason to convince her mom that she should stay at KISS. It would be a grand gesture – at least that’s what Kitty thinks – if Juliana didn't come along. It’s clearly nothing more than her friend wanting what’s best for her… right?)

(Or or, the one where Yuri makes the grand gesture, Kitty is my favorite disaster bisexual, and the Song-Covey sisters have each other's backs.)

[read it on ao3]