#idk if this counts as a foil

[a-very-sparkly-nerd]

Mmmmm Viren trapping the last protectors of the Dragon Prince in ice, then ten years later the last protector of the Dragon Prince (Ibis) puts his daughter who would do harm to the Dragon Prince in ice

[jonsnowunemploymentera]

There are a lot of theories out there about the true identity of the last hero, but I think the one that makes the most thematic sense is that he was a member of the original Night’s Watch. See the last hero’s identity is shrouded in mystery but his deeds live on forever and he is attributed with having led to the defeat of the Others. The legends show that his actions are famous, but the man himself is forgotten.

This seems quite close to what being a member of the Night’s Watch entails. The Watch’s vows dictate that members, who are the sword in the darkness and the fire that burns against the cold thus directly marking them in opposition to winter and the Others, shall hold no lands, wear no crowns, and win no glory. They are known to the rest of the kingdoms as those who guard the realms of men, but their identities and individual triumphs are largely unimportant.

This is a shared parallel between the members of the Night’s Watch and the last hero. We don’t know anything about his name, house, or background. Even the title ‘the last hero’ is merely an identifier - note that it’s in lower case. So it would make sense that the last hero’s identity is to remain anonymous if that was the entire point of it all; he was a man of the Night’s Watch and thus, indirectly, swore a vow of anonymity. And better yet, we don’t even know who his twelve companions were. We know only that they rode out with him and died in the process. However we do know that in the north, there are two figures who are directly identified as having been responsible for the ending of the long night: the last hero (as per folk tales narrated by Old Nan) and the Night’s Watch (see the Night that Ended). It could be that the legend of the last hero and his twelve companions is a glimpse of the NW’s last stand.

I also think it’s interesting that we have various last hero parallels in the text who are members of the Night’s Watch. We first have Waymar Royce who seems very last hero-y in the AGOT prologue. Then we have Jon Snow who is implicitly identified by the narrative as a last hero figure. And it gets even more interesting when we consider that Jon has at many times stated that as a member of the night’s watch, he is to remain a shadow among all shadows. His greatest deeds are to go unnoticed and his name is not to be spoken in the halls of men. His deeds could live on, but his name won’t; even more interesting when we consider that Jon, due to his bastardy, technically doesn’t actually have a name to begin with. And what makes Jon’s connection to the last hero so poignant is that while the last hero’s name has been lost to history, Jon has a whole thing about being a lost and forgotten prince/king.

But there’s a rather unexpected last hero parallel in Sam Tarly, also a member of the Night’s Watch. Sam is not magically special, nor is he marked as someone with a particularly important bloodline or destiny. However, he is the first person in thousands of years to slay an Other. And he did that using a shard of dragonglass, which provides an interesting callback to the last hero’s dragonsteel blade. There’s also the parallel of both heroes being the last men standing after an Other attack. But interestingly enough, there’s a slight deviation in that though we still do not know who the last hero was, we do know of Sam the Slayer.

So it’s entirely possible that the last hero was one of the members of the original NW. And this makes for a rather interesting foil in another character who is explicitly stated as having a relationship with the Others - the Night’s King. It’s interesting if both figures have some background with the NW due to the dichotomy that arises. The last hero kept his vows and wore no crown and got no glory, but the Night’s King very directly broke his. The last hero protected the realms of men, while the Night’s King embarked of a path of destruction. And he was, quite famously, a member of the Night’s Watch (and is even identified as having been the 13th lord commander). But it’s interesting that while we don’t really know of the Night’s King’s true identity, we are actually given multiple clues by the narrative. We’re even told that he may have been a Brandon Stark - thereby having a name which the last hero doesn’t. But even then, just as it was with the last hero, the Night’s King has deeds which live on forever even though his name (very deliberately) has not.

[andro-dino]

thinking about plasma and white on this day

[requiemforthepoets]

en garde! 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: charles had been asking you to teach him fencing, and you finally did.

REMINDERS: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: smau mixed with narrations, inconsistent photos, typos, not proofread, cursing, no use of y/n on the narrations, poorly google translated italian, and all photos are taken from pinterest

FACE CLAIMS: all from pinterest

WORD COUNT: 4.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s been a long time since i added a new fic to my leclerc!sister series, so here it is hehe sorry, i’ve yapped a LOT about fencing on the narration part, so pls forgive me 😭 i hope i didn’t bore you a lot with fencing stuff 😭 i’m also accepting request for this series (i’m running out on ideas lmao 🥲) but i hope that you’ll enjoy this one!

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, sofia_rossi, marcoromano.fencing, landonorris and 783,984 others

ynleclerc E' passato un po' di tempo, Italia 💘

view all 12,837 comments

charles_leclerc when are you coming home?

ynleclerc idk, why?

charles_leclerc are you serious right now 😐

ynleclerc what…🧍��‍♀️

charles_leclerc check my messages for once 😐

username1 OH HOW I MISSED YOU 😭

username2 the y/n drought has finally ended!!!! 😭

username3 MOTHER IS BACK, MOTHER HAS POSTED 😭🎉

landonorris thank god you’re alive. i thought you’re already dead somewhere 😔💔

ynleclerc bro what 😭

landonorris anyways, when will you teach me how to fence for a new quadrant yt vid

ynleclerc you sure you’re up for it? don’t want you poking yourself with the foil

landonorris 😠😠😠😠

sofia_rossi CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU NEXT WEEK!!

ynleclerc 🥰🥰🥰

username4 OUR FAV FENCING DUO IS GOING TO SEE EACH OTHER SOON??? OMG 😭❤️

francisca.cgomes you’re in italy and you didn’t even tell me? 😠

ynleclerc I FORGOT IM SORRY IM SORRY!! but hey, i’m italy 🥰 hangout soon?

francisca.cgomes of course!!! just text meeee!!

username5 SHE REMEMBERED HER PASSWORD 🥳

ynleclerc posted a story!

liked by charles_leclerc, sofia_rossi, yourbestfriend, francisca.cgomes, marcoromano.fencing and others

charles_leclerc when will you teach me fencing 😔

charles_leclerc can’t believe it’s so hard to schedule one with you 💔💔💔

charles_leclerc i need big brother privileges 💔

ynleclerc USHCJJSJD CHARLES 😭

ynleclerc i’ll be home by next week! (hopefully you’ll be home as well 🤥) damn, can’t believe our schedules never really align

charles_leclerc ❤️❤️❤️❤️

francisca.cgomes i’m free tomorrow!! how about we go out for brunch?

ynleclerc KIKAAAA!! yes yes, ofc! ❤️

francisca.cgomes YAY!!

username6 OUR FENCING DUO WILL BE REUNITED SOON 😭❤️

username7 oh we pray for times like this (you being active on ig 😔💔)

MONACO

The sound of clashing blades echoed through the halls of the Club d’Escrime, a backdrop to your training session with Marco, your Italian coach. Fully suited in your white fencing uniform, mask tucked under your arm, you watched the double doors open, revealing your brother, Charles and his videographer, Antoine. The latter already had his camera rolling, and Charles, in his usual casual style—jeans, a dark hoodie, and white sneakers, looking like he had just stepped off a magazine cover.

“Finally!” You said, walking towards them with a smile. “Thought you’d never make it.”

Charles chuckled, spreading his arms in mock exasperation. “Don’t start! You’re the one who’s always impossible to catch. What is it this week? Tokyo? Budapest?”

“Home, for once,” you replied with a laugh, gesturing around the salle. “But that’s rare, as you know.”

“The place is very stunning,” Charles said, as he marveled the interior of the salle. “So this is where gold medals are made?” He teased.

“Something like that,” you replied, your voice light with pride. “Though Marco here deserves half the credit.”

“Ah, Charles! Finalmente ci incontriamo,” Marco greeted, shaking Charles’ hand firmly. His thick Italian accent added a charm to his words. “Your sister talks about you a lot.”

“È un piacere finalmente conoscerti. Lei non parla mai di me quando vinco, però.” He joked, shooting a playful look your way.

“Not true, and you know it.” You rolled your eyes at the comment.

Marco laughed, patting Charles on the shoulder. “Well today, we’ll see if athletic talent runs in the family, sì?”

“Okay, so here we are at the Club d’Escrime in Monaco. This is where my sister trains—when she’s not winning Olympic gold, of course,” he said grinning at you and turning towards the camera.

“We’ve been planning this fencing lesson for many months now, but with her busy training schedule and my racing calendar, it’s been almost impossible to find a day that worked for both of us. So finally, today is the day!” Charles added.

“Did you mention how excited you’ve been?” You quipped, folding your arms.

Charles smirked. “I may have. But, let’s be honest, you’re probably more nervous than I am.”

“Nervous?” You scoffed. “Why would I be nervous? You’re the one holding a weapon for the first time.”

“Ah, but I’ve seen the movies,” he countered, mimicking a clumsy lunge. “How hard can it be?”

You laughed at his theatrics, shaking your head. “We’ll see how long that confidence lasts when Marco puts you through the warm-up.”

“Speaking of which,” Marco interjected, “shall we start soon? Time is short, and I want to see if he can last more than five minutes.”

“You’re in for a workout.” You teased and smiled.

Charles gave an exaggerated sigh but could not hide his amusement. “Great. I love being underestimated.”

“You’re about to learn that fencing isn't as easy as people make it look on TV.” You smiled at the camera.

“Or tiktok.” Charles quipped, earning a chuckle from Marco.

You gestured towards the piste. “Alright, let’s get you geared up. I don’t want to hear any excuses later.”

Once Charles was all suited up, he stepped onto the piste, fully suited in his borrowed fencing gear, and you couldn’t help but pause. There was something striking about the way the jacket, breeches, and long socks suited him. The silver sheen of the lamé, a metallic vest worn over the jacket for scoring, added an almost regal touch. You smirked as you took in the sight of your brother adjusting his gloves.

“Oh my god. I’ve never looked so good.” Charles said as he came out all suited up.

“Would you look at that,” you began, folding your arms. “Hate to admit it, but you look good. Maybe too good.”

Charles glanced up, clearly amused. “Oh? Surprised your brother cleans up well?”

“I’m just saying, if this racing thing doesn’t work out, you might have a future as a fencer. Imagine, Charles Leclerc, Olympic Champion.” You gave him an exaggerated once-over. “The gear suits you.”

“I mean, I do look the part.” He smiled, striking a mock fencing pose, which was more comedic than impressive.

“You do,” you admitted with a laugh. “But let’s see if you can move like a fencer before you start planning your second career.”

“Basta con i complimenti. Time for the warm-up! No excuses later when your legs start complaining.” Marco smiled.

Charles groaned playfully, shooting you a mock glare. “Leg day already gets me in the gym. Don’t let him overdo it.”

“Stop whining,” you teased, motioning for him to follow Marco. “You’ll thank him when you’re not limping tomorrow.”

“We begin easy,” he said, demonstrating a forward bend. “Touch your toes, Charles. Keep your legs straight.”

“Easy for you to say,” he muttered, glancing at Marco, who was effortlessly folding himself in half.

“Come on, Charlie. You can’t lose to a guy twenty years older than you.” You chuckled from the sidelines, standing near Antoine, who was filming the entire thing.

“Thanks for the encouragement,” Charles quipped, finally managing to graze his toes. “I see you’re enjoying this too much.”

“I am.” You admitted, voice light with laughter.

Next were lunges, which Charles did with ease, his form surprisingly precise. “Now these, I can handle. We do this in the gym all the time.”

“Good. Now arm extensions, long and controlled. Think of reaching for the target.” Charles mirrored Marco’s movements, extending his arms fluidly.

You couldn’t resist teasing, “not bad, Charles. Maybe you’re a natural after all.”

“Maybe I am,” he replied, smirking. “See? I’ve got this.”

“Next is jumping jacks,” Marco interrupted, clearly amused by your banter.

Charles transitioned smoothly into the exercise, his movements energetic and practiced. As he worked through the routine, Charles suddenly turned to you, his tone curious.

“Why don’t we ever train together? Seems like it could be fun.” Charles glanced at you.

“Because you’d complain the whole time.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“Hey, I don’t complain that much.” He argued, clearly offended.

You just laughed at him, waving a hand dismissively. “Fencing is my thing, Charlie. I need to focus when I’m training, it’s not all fun and games.”

“And today isn’t serious?” Charles raised a brow, pausing mid-jumping jack.

“Not really,” you admitted with a shrug. “Today’s more about proving to you that fencing isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Good luck with that,” he said, clearly amused. “You forget who you’re talking to.”

“Charles,” Marco interjected, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your sister has a gold medal, she might surprise you.”

“I don’t doubt that,” he said sincerely, before his grin returned. “But I’m still confident I can keep up.”

“That’s the spirit!” You smiled.

”The floor is yours, campionessa.” Marco smiled as he stepped back, and gestured for you to take over.

“Alright,” you turned to Charles. “Let’s start with the basics. This is going to be your crash course in fencing, everything you need to know before you touch the blade.”

Antoine, still filming, zoomed in on Charles’ face as he nodded, looking serious. “I’m ready, let’s hear it.”

“Fencing is one of the oldest sports in the world. It dates back centuries, originally used in dueling and combat training, but over time, it became more of a sport.” You explained. “In fact, fencing has been part of the Olympics since the very first modern games in 1896.”

“1896?” Charles repeated, very intrigued. “So, it’s been around forever.”

“Pretty much,” you confirmed with a smile. “Since then, it’s evolved into three distinct disciplines—foil, sabre, and epee. Each had different rules, strategies, and weapons. That’s what makes fencing so fascinating, you’re not just swinging a sword around. It’s a mind game as much as a physical one, that’s why some call it physical chess.”

Charles tilted his head, clearly interested. “What’s the difference between the three?”

“Come on, let me show you guys.” You walked over to a nearby rack, where several swords were neatly displayed, each one gleaming under the salle’s lights.

“This is a foil.” You picked up a foil, you held it up for him and the viewers to see. “It is the lightest of the three weapons, weighing about 500 grams, and the one I use. Foil fencing focuses on precision and technique, the target area is only the torso, and points are scored with the tip of the blade.”

Charles reached out, and you handed him the foil. He tested the weight of the blade, lifting and lowering it.

“It’s lighter than I thought.” He admitted, giving it a small swing.

“Foils are meant for agility and speed,” you explained. You then picked up a sabre, slightly heavier with a distinct curved guard. “This is a sabre. It’s a bit heavier, and the rules are very different. In sabre, you can score with the edge of the blade, not just the tip, and target area is the upper body—above the waist, including arms and head.”

“Sounds aggressive,” Charles remarked, running his hand along the blade’s flat edge.

“Oh, it is,” you chuckled. “Sabre is all about speed and attack. It’s fast-paced, almost like a sprint compared to foil’s more calculated, chess-like style.”

“And the last one?” Charles asked, pointing to the remaining weapon.

“This is the epee,” you said as you picked up the epee, handing it to him. “It’s the heaviest of the three, about 775 grams, and the target area is the entire body, head to toe. But in epee, there’s no right of way, whoever hits first, scores.”

Charles tested the epee in his grip, nodding thoughtfully. “So it’s more…straightforward?”

“In a way, yes,” you said, setting the sabre and foil back on the rack. “But it can also lead to longer matches since there’s no restriction on who can attack when, you need all the patience you can get when playing epee.”

The camera panned as you gestured for Charles to follow you back to the piste. “Now, let’s talk about the rules. In foil, which is what we’ll be learning today, the target area is just the torso. No arms, legs, and head. If you hit anywhere else, it doesn’t count.”

“Got it,” Charles said. “What about the scoring?”

“In foil, we use something called right of way. It means that the fencer who initiates the attack has priority. If the other fencer wants to score, they have to defend or parry first, and then counterattack.”

You picked up a foil and demonstrated, lunging forward in a quick, fluid motion. “For example, if I attack you like this, you can’t just hit me back. You’d need to block my blade first.”

“So, it’s not just about being faster, it’s about timing.” Charles frowned slightly, absorbing the information.

“Yup,” you said, impressed. “It’s about strategy and reading your opponent’s moves. Now, there are also some practical rules. The piste, the one we are standing on right now, is 14 meters long and 1.5 to 2 meters wide. If you step off, you lose ground or even a point, and you can’t use your off-hand to block, and obviously, no overly aggressive moves like charging into your opponent.”

Charles raised a brow. “No tackling allowed? Shame.”

“Not unless you want to get a penalty.” You laughed, shaking your head. “Lastly, to win a match, you have to reach a predetermined number of points, usually 15, or have the highest score by the end of the time limit.”

“Okay, I’ll give you a quick demonstration of how right of way works in a tournament.” You gestured for Marco to join you, and he grabbed another foil, stepping into position, as Antoine adjusted his camera as you stepped back onto the piste.

“Watch closely,” you instructed as you and Marco faced off. “Marco will attack, and I’ll defend and counter.”

Marco lunged forward with a smooth attack, and you parried, your blades clashing with a satisfying ring before you swiftly riposted, your blade landing lightly on his torso.

Turning to Charles, you explained. “Since I defended first and then countered, I get the point. Make sense?”

Charles nodded slowly, his brows furrowed in thought. “So, if I just swing wildly, it’s useless unless I have priority.”

“Yes,” you said smiling. “Fencing isn’t about brute force, it’s about control, precision, and strategy.”

“This all felt like a masterclass,” Charles chuckled. “This is very incredible stuff.”

Once Charles had a solid grasp of the basic rules and ths purpose of fencing, you decided it was time to get into the technical aspects.

“Alrighty,” you began, pacing in front of him, foil in hand. “Before you can start attacking, you need to learn how to defend yourself. So, let’s talk about parrying.”

“There are four primary parries in fencing, and each one is important for blocking and setting yourself up for a counterattack.” You added.

Charles nodded, gripping the foil in his hand as if ready to jump in. “Alright, I’m listening. Hit me with it.”

“Not literally,” you teased, pointing your foil at him briefly before continuing. “First is parry four. This is your standard parry, used to block attacks aimed at your torso. You bring the blade across your body like this.”

You demonstrated, twisting your wrist and angling your blade so that the imaginary opponent’s strike would be deflected away. Charles mimicked the movement, though his hand was stiff, and his blade angle slightly off.

You leaned in, using the tip of your foil to adjust his blade position. “Loosen your wrist a bit, it’s all about control, not brute strength. The goal is to guide their blade away, not smack it out of their hands.”

“Okay, okay. Got it.” Charles said, trying again. This time, his movement was smoother.

“Better,” you said, stepping back. “Next is parry six. The one is similar to parry four, but instead of protecting the inside of your body, it covers the outside. Like this.” You executed the parry with ease, your blade moving in a fluid arc.

Charles tried to copy the movement, his blade wobbling slightly as he adjusted his wrist.

“Close,” you said, stepping closer. “But watch your wrist, it needs to stay firm, or you’ll lose control of your blade.” You tapped the back of his hand with your foil, and he adjusted accordingly.

“Parry eight is for low attacks to the outside of your body.” You continued, moving on, and crouching slightly, angling your blade downward to demonstrate. “This one is a little tricky because it requires good reflexes. You’re aiming to protect your lower torso and legs.” Charles gave it a go, though his stance was a bit too wide.

“Too much space,” you said, tapping his knee lightly with your blade. “Keep your movements controlled. The smaller the motion, the quicker you can recover.”

“This is harder than it looks.” Charles exhaled, looking at the camera as he adjusted his stance.

“That’s fencing for you,” you said with a grin. “Last one, parry seven. This one is similar to parry eight, but it protects the inside of your body instead of the ourside.”

You demonstrated the motion, and Charles followed suit, this time managing a relatively smooth movement.

“Good,” you said, stepping back. “Now, key things to remember when parrying—keep your blade pointed at your opponent at all times. It’s not just about blocking, it’s about setting yourself up for a counterattack. As soon as you’ve parried, you need to riposte, counterattack, immediately. If you wait too long, you’ll lose your advantage.”

Marco stepped forward, foil in hand, and you turned to Charles. “I’ll show you how it’s done.”

You squared off with Marco, and as he lunged forward with a mock attack, you parried effortlessly, your blade gliding against his and redirecting it away. In the same motion, you extended your arm, blade tip landing lightly on Marco’s torso.

“See how quick that was?” You said, turning to Charles. “It’s a fluid motion—parry and riposte, all in one go. No wasted movements.”

Charles nodded, his brows furrowed in concentration. “Alright, let me try.”

You stepped aside, letting Marco face Charles. As Marco slowly lunged, Charles attempted a parry, though his movement was slightly delayed, and his riposte lacked precision.

“Not bad,” you said encouragingly. “But don’t overthink it. The more natural it feels, the faster you’ll be.”

“Okay, let’s talk about stance,” you said, planting your feet firmly on the piste. “Your stance is your foundation, if it’s wrong, everything else falls apart.”

You demonstrated, keeping your feet shoulder-width apart, one foot pointing forward and the other at a slight angle.

“Your dominant hand is the one holding the foil. The non-dominant hand stays behind you, raised slightly for balance. So, which hand are you using?” You asked.

“Right.” Charles said, switching the foil to his dominant hand.

“Good,” you said. “Now, copy my stance.”

Charles mirrored your position, though his back foot was slightly out of place.

“Close, but—” you tapoed his leg lightly with your foil. “Your back foot needs to be at an angle, like this. Don’t forget to bend your knees slightly. You need to stay low for balance and quick movement.”

“Not bad,” you said, nodding approvingly when Charles adjusted his stance. “Now let’s work on movement. When you’re in your stance, you need to be able to move forward, backward, and side-to-side quickly withou losing your balance.”

You demonstrated, gliding forward and backward with small, controlled steps. “Notice how my feet stay the same distance apart, no matter where I go. That keeps me balanced and ready to attack or defend.”

Charles followed your lead, though his movements were a bit stiff.

“Relax,” you said, smiling. “You’re not marching in the military. It’s more like a dance, fluid and controlled.” He tried again, this time loosening up slightly.

“Better,” you said. “Now let’s add a lunge, the lunge is your main attacking move. From your stance, you push off your back leg and extend your front leg forward, like this.” You demonstrated, your movement smooth and precise. Charles attempted the motion, but his lunge was too short.

“Bigger step,” you said, tapping his front leg with your foil. “You want fo cover as much ground as possjble without overextending.” After a few tries, he managed a decent lunge.

“Not bad,” you said, stepping back. “You’re getting there. Now, let’s put it all together—stance, movement, parries, and lunges. You ready?”

Charles grinned, gripping his foil. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Alright,” you said, picking up the body cord, “before we start, we need to get you all hooked up.”

Charles tilted his head, examining the cord. “What’s that for?”

“This is a body cord,” you explained, stepping closer to attach it to his fencing jacket. “It connects your weapon to the scoring system. When you land a valid touch, the electrical circuit completes, and the scoreboard registers the point.”

“So no sneaky hits?” He joked, watching closely as you secured it to his back and guided it through the sleeves of his jacket to attach to the foil.

“Not unless you want the referee to see it light up,” you quipped, making sure everything was in place before handing him a fencing mask. “Here, put this on.”

“For this first round, we’re keeping it simple, call it a trial run,” you said, rolling your shoulders and flexing your foil. “Marco will referee and keep things light. Just focus on getting comfortable.”

“Got it. Don’t go easy on me, though.” Charles raised his foil slightly, his excitement evident in his stance.

You laughed. “Trut me, Charles, I won’t.”

Marco stepped onto the side of the piste, holding a referee’s clicked in one hand. “Alright, trial run. I’ll call the touches. En garde!”

You and Charles took your positions at opposite ends of the piste, foils raised in salite before dropping into the en garde stance.

“Prêt? Allez!” Marco called, signaling the start of the bout.

Charles moved hesitant at first, testing his footing as he advanced. You let him come forward, observing his movements.

“Don’t forget your stance,” you reminded him, stepping back slightly. “Stay balanced.”

He nodded, adjusting his feet, and made a tentative lunge. Charles’ foil grazed your blade, missing the target area entirely.

“Close,” you said, countering with a light touch to his torso. Marco raised his hand. “Touch!”

Charles shook his head, laughing. “Okay, that was fast. Was that even one second?”

“Welcome to fencing,” you said with a grin. “It’s all about timing. Relax, though you’re doing fine.”

As the trial run continued, Charles began finding his rhythm. He landed his first touch on your shoulder, earing a quick ‘touch!’ from Marco.

“How does it feel?” You asked, stepping back for a brief pause.

Charles grinned under his mask. “Not bad! Are you nervous yet?”

“Me? Nervous?” You teased. “Cute. Let’s see how you handle the next round round.”

The second round began, and Charles was much more deliberate in his movements. He used the parries you had taught him, successfully blocking two of your attacks and landing another touch on your shoulder.

“Not bad, Lord Perceval,” you said, nodding as you reset your stance. “You’re learning quickly.”

“Of course,” he replied, his voice light with mock arrogance. “I’m a Leclerc. We adapt fast.”

By the end of the round, Marco called for a pause. “Alright, let’s use the scoreboard for the next one.”

“See this?” Marco said, pointing to the display. “Every valid touch will light up here with a beep. First to fifteen points wins.”

Charles noticed the screen, which displayed yor names, complete with small Monaco flags next to them.

“Wait, you personalized it?” He asked, laughing. “Now I feel like I’m in the Olympics.”

“Of course,” you said with a grin. “Nothing but the best for my big brother.”

Charles chuckled, lifting his foil again. As you adjusted your own, you bent the blade slightly, an action that caught his attention.

“Why are you doing that?” He asked.

“It’s something all fencers do,” you explained, holding the blade up for him to see. “Foils are flexible, and bending them ensures they’re in good condition and won’t snap. It also helps make the touches more accurate and less painful.”

“Huh,” Charles said, mimicking the motion with his own foil. “Interesting.”

“Alright, this is it,” you said, lowering your mask. “First to fifteen.”

Marco raised his hand. “En garde! Prêt? Allez!”

The boug began, and Charles quickly demonstrated his growing confidence. He moved fluidly, landing a few clean touches on your torso and arm. You could see his competitiveness kicking in, and you responded with sharper attacks, forcing him to parry and riposte.

Halfway through, the score was tied at 7-7, and the beeping sound of the scoreboard filled the room with each touch.

“You’re doing great.” You said during a brief pause.

“Thanks,” Charles replied, panting slightly. “But I’m not letting you win.”

“Good,” you said, resetting your stance. “Because I’m not letting you win, either.”

The intensity ramped up in the final stretch. Charles managed to land three more touches, bringing his total to ten, but you quickly countered with a series of precise attacks, pushing your score to fifteen.

Marco raised his hand as the final beep sounded. “Touché! Match for her—15 to 10!”

“Lifting your mask, you grinned at Charles, who pulled off his own mask, shaking his head in disbelief.

“That was incredible,” he said, still catching his breath. “I actually thought I had you for a moment there.”

“Well fought, champ! Ten points is impressive for a first timer, you did really great.” You said, resting your foil on your shoulder. “But I told you, fencing isn’t easy as it looks.”

Charles laughed, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Yeah, no kidding. I think I’ll stick to racing.”

Marco, who had been observing with a smile, stepped in. “You were actually good for a beginner. You’re a fast learner, Charles. I’ve work with a lot of first-timers, and not many can pick up that quickly.”

“That’s true,” you chimed in nodding. “You were way better than I expected. Usually, people take ages to figure out how to lunge properly or keep their stance balanced.”

Charles’ grin widened. “Well, what can I say? It’s in my blood to be competitive.”

Marco laughed, clapping Charles on the shoulder. “You should come by more often during her trainings. You’d make a good parry partner.”

“Oh stop feeding his ego,” you said, rolling your eyes playfully. “It’s already huge.”

Charles gave a mock bow. “Keep it coming, Marco. I’m soaking it all in.”

Marco just smiled as the camera zoomed in on you both as he continued. “Not, really, Charles. If you’re free diring off-season, you should consider it. You’d give her a good challenge, and it would keep her on her toes.”

“Hmm…” Charles leaned on his foil again, pretending to consider the offer. “Fencing during off-season. I might actually think about that.”

You laughed. “Sure, if you can handle beaten every time.”

“Bold words. But we’ll see.” Charles grinned. “So, what’s next for you? You’ve already won the Olympics. Where do you go from here?”

“Next up is the Fencing World Cup. It’s coming up in a few months, so I’m focused on preparing for that.” You smiled, feeling the excitement bubbling inside of you.

Charles nodded. “If people want fo follow your journey, where can they find you?”

“Everywhere.” You said with a laugh, then added, “but seriously, you guys can follow me on my social media. If you are curious about up coming tournaments, you can check out Team Monaco’s offical instagram. They post all of the updates there.”

Charles turned to the camera. “There you have it, guys.” He then faced you and Marco. “I just want to say thank you, for real. I know your schedules are crazy, and you took time to teach me something completely out of my comfort zone. I really had fun.”

“You’re welcome here anytime, Charles.” Marco smiled warmly. “You’re a natural. Who knows? Maybe one day, you’ll be on the piste at a tournament.”

Charles laughed, shaking his head. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, but I appreciate the vote of confidence.”

“You did great today,” you grinned, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “Who knows? Maybe we’ll see you fencing for Monaco one day.”

Charles smiled. “Only if you promise not to embarrass me in front of everyone.”

“No promises.” You teased.

Marco gestured toward the camera. “Alright, shall we wrap this up?”

You, Charles, and Marco all faced the lens. “Thanks for watching!” You said with a wave. “Remember, fencing is cooler than you think.”

“And harder than it looks!” Charles added. “Thank you both for taking the time to teach me, I had a blast today. It’s always fun learning new things.”

“Of course, Charlie!” You replied warmly. “We’ll be waiting for your next fencing session.”

“You’re always welcome, Charles.” Marco smiled. “Just don’t take too long to return, alright? We might have to recruit you into the team at this rate!”

All of you laughed as you said your goodbyes, and with that, the video came to a close, screen fading into black.

twitter posts

yn.jpg

liked by charles_leclerc, yourbestfriend, lilyzneimer, landonorris, lilymhe and 88,746 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, gaiusthecaracal

yn.jpg just a regular day at the office (bonus: taught charles fencing, see slide 4! 😁)

view all 10,837 comments

username8 never knew i needed to see charles in a fencing gear up until now 😮‍💨 THANK YOU MOTHER!

landonorris can’t believe you taught charles first, i thought i was gonna be the first one 😞💔

yn.jpg sorry, big brother privileges 😔✊🏻

charles_leclerc what she said! 😁❤️

landonorris i see that you have taken my advice

yn.jpg yes, and i owe it all to you sir 🫡

landonorris when will u be our quadrant athlete 😔🤲🏻

yn.jpg idk bro, what do they do? 🤨

yn.jpg just hit up my personal coach 😁

landonorris ME NEXT PLS

yn.jpg THERE ARE A LOT OF YOU WANTING ME TO TEACH YOU ALL FENCING 😭😭😭

lilymhe I ASKED HER FIRST! FALL IN LINE!!

landonorris IM HER BEST FRIEND

landonorris BESTIE PRIVILEGES

yourbestfriend EXCUSE ME????

landonorris EXCUSED

username9 WE FINALLY GOT A JPG ACCOUNT??? ACTIVE ERA IS UPON US?????

yn.jpg u guys really gotta thank lando for convincing me on making one bc apparently according to him, i always “ghost” you all 😞💔

username9 OHMGYGOSD I LOVE YOU 😭

username10 GAIUS 🥺🥺🥺🥺

username11 CHARLES WHAT ARE YOU DOING 😭😭😭

username12 petition for you to have a yt acc or tiktok or smth 😔😔😔😔

username13 and then what? we all ended up being ghosted 😔😔😔😔

username13 she barely posts on instagram, and now that she has a jpg account, i’ll take what i can get tl have some y/n content 😔😔😔💔💔💔

username12 omg u right 😭😭😭

username14 ok, scuderiaferrari, just hear me out this once…what if y/n teaches charlos fencing on a tiktok or yt vid? huh huh huh, wouldn’t that be a great idea, right? 😁

scuderiaferrari hmmm, i think you might be onto something 🤔🤔🤔

username15 i will sacrifice my first born for this to happen 🤲🏻

username16 we are BEGGING, on our knees

username17 charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me. charles leclerc in fencing gear, save me 🛐

[yoursselo]

Counting the days until Christmas

a/n: hi everyone! i couldn’t get the little advent calendar concept out of my mind so i decided to write a little something. this is my first ever fic (idk if i’ll ever write something again haha) so please be kind. i hope you guys enjoy it. love you lotsssss 🩷

word count: around 1k

warnings: none tbh but maybe some suggestive content

It was the most wonderful time of the year—Christmas. Ever since you were a child, you had loved the holiday season. Hot chocolate, gingerbread cookies, Christmas markets, and, of course, the advent calendars. Growing up, you always had one. You loved opening a door each day, feeling so excited about the little treat inside. Each day’s surprise only made you more eager for what was to come. The anticipation built with every door, and you could hardly wait to open the last one.

This tradition stayed with you through the years. Even now, getting an advent calendar was one of the things you looked forward to most during Christmas. Mason knew about your passion for it. Ever since your first Christmas together, the two of you had made each other small advent calendars. They were never extravagant—just simple and sweet, filled with things that reminded you of each other. Most of the time, they were sentimental, but this year, you decided to be a bit bolder and change things up.

You had been planning Mason’s advent calendar for weeks, and after putting in extra effort, it was finally ready. It took more time than usual, but you managed to finish it. The calendar sat on the coffee table next to the one Mason had made for you. Each door was carefully numbered and adorned with festive snowflakes and tiny golden stars. To Mason, it looked like any other advent calendar, but he had no idea what surprises lay behind the doors.

On the morning of December 1st, you rushed downstairs to open the first door of your advent calendar. Inside, Mason had placed a small heart-shaped heating pad. It made you smile because he knew how you were always cold and if he couldn’t warm you up himself, he wanted you to have something that reminded you of him. Hugging him, you kissed his cheek and said, “Thank you, babe. I’ll keep it in my pocket all the time.”

He kissed you back, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “Is this for me?” he asked, poking at the little calendar you’d made.

“Yes, but you have to promise me to open just one door a day. I worked really hard on this,” you said, trying to sound casual despite your fluttering heart.

Mason groaned dramatically. “Babe, I’m not a child. I have self-control.”

“Of course you do,” you teased, biting back a laugh. “Now, come on. It’s your turn. Open the first door.”

Rubbing his hands together with excitement, he carefully peeled open the first package labeled with the number one. Inside was a small packet of M&Ms—his favourite—wrapped neatly in festive foil.

“Yesss! Thank you, babe. These are my favourite!” He kissed your nose before opening the bag to eat his treat.

As you watched him, you couldn’t help but smile, waiting for him to discover his extra treat. He was so focused on the sweets that he almost didn’t notice the hidden Polaroid tucked inside. But as he went to set the calendar down, something caught his eye.

“Wait… what’s this?” he asked, his brow furrowing in curiosity.

Your stomach did a little flip as you watched his expression shift. Mason pulled out the Polaroid, his eyes widening and his cheeks turning red. The picture wasn’t overly scandalous, but it was far cheekier than your usual photos. You were wearing his hoodie, leaning against the kitchen counter with a smirk. The hoodie barely covered your bum, leaving plenty to the imagination.

“Baby…” he whispered. He looked up at you, his face a mix of awe and disbelief. “What’s this?”

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye. “Oh, that? Just a little extra treat for you. Do you like it?”

A sheepish grin spread across his face, his dimples appearing. “Like it? Are you kidding? I love it.” He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed deeper.

“Well, there’s one in every door,” you said, sheepishly. “I wanted to do something extra special this year.”

Mason blinked, trying to process your words. Then it hit him. His eyes widened, and before you could stop him, he lunged for the calendar.

“Wait, Mase! No—”

“I need to see the others!” he exclaimed.

You snatched the calendar away, holding it behind your back. “Nope. The point is to wait until Christmas. You need some self-control. Weren’t you the ‘master of your body’ last year during No Nut November?” you teased.

Mason groaned dramatically, slumping back onto the couch. “But how am I supposed to wait?”

“You’ll figure it out,” you replied with a smirk and kissed him on the cheek.

By day twelve, Mason’s patience was wearing thin. That day’s door held his favorite chocolate bar, but he barely glanced at it before pulling out the Polaroid. It showed you lying on the bed in a lacy black bralette and matching panties, your tousled hair making it look as though you’d just woken up.

Mason froze, his jaw dropping. “Do you like it?” you asked, fluttering your eyelashes innocently.

“Babe, please let me open just one more door. Please,” he begged, practically trembling with excitement.

Laughing, you shook your head. “Nope. Patience, Masey.”

By Christmas Eve, Mason was climbing the walls. He had barely made it through 23 days without breaking the rules. When he opened the final door on Christmas morning, his reaction was everything you’d hoped for and more.

Inside was your boldest Polaroid yet—a picture of you wearing nothing but a red Santa hat.

For a moment, Mason just stared, completely speechless. Then, without warning, he grabbed your hand and pulled you toward the bedroom.

“Mason, what are you—”

“Merry Christmas to me,” he muttered, kicking the door shut behind you with a grin that made you laugh.

The end. I hope you guys enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writiring the story. 🩷

[fuumiku]

Chilcille huh... ngl I was a little suspicious. like why would you do that, huh... hope youre not mischaracterizing anyone in your weird and wacky ship. a little weird. but then you said they both had flat asses and you know what? I salute you and your perfect characterization

The fact you seem to think you managed to not make this ask insulting is baffling. What the hell. Fuck off.

If you actually care to be open minded about the ship, I talk about marchil on my sideblog 24/7. Funnily enough I’m currently 4k words deep into an analysis of their character arc together in canon, but that’ll take some more days to get done. Some notable posts:

Of course without counting the analyses of Chilchuck on his own I’ve made, like my masterpost on his family situation. Or better yet you could also read my fics for them, see how weird and wacky they are here.

Wanna talk about mischaracterisation? They’re literally a comedic duo who interacts 24/7. Marchil is crazy bc ppl are like "did those shipper read with their eyes CLOSED?? They have no chemistry!" Meanwhile canon is like: "She’s obsessed with knowing everything she can about him and she reads him like a book." In her eyes he’s like that extra rare and hard and shiny unlockable dating sim character, that brooding mysterious character trope that’s thrilling to crack open and typically is at the center of the plot. The wife roleplay???? "Hey, did you know his type is blondes. Hey did you know he likes his women pretty and blonde. Hey did you know he likes her hair. Hey did you know that he teases her 24/7 and it’s one of the few things that consistently gets him grinning because he finds her reactions cute." Like a schoolyard bully pulling on the pigtails of the girl he likes.

It’s not like they have any thematic narratives or relevance. It’s not like she’ll live to 1000 and has existential dread about it while he’s logically gonna be her next friend to die at 50 and wether it’s romantic or platonic it’ll terrify her to lose him. It’s not like it’s fear of death x fear of rejection so they’re both obsessed with the thought of loss looming, past and ongoing. It’s not like it’s half-elf x half-foot and there’s an inherent journey that was and still is to dispel prejudices and truly come to see each other. It’s not like he’s painfully real and raw and flawed but still a good man, that he’s not the figure of prince charming that she’s always dreamed of while still being virtuous and worth fighting for. Or you know, her hair being golden and it being the epitome of beauty to him, and his hair turning silver and it being Marcille’s worst nightmare.

Just a weird wacky ship who means nothing but shallow things to people who have weirdo reasons for liking it. Like can you not. If you’re not imaginative enough to think of reasons why this ship may have an appealing dynamic that’s not my issue. But yes, yes, they’re both flat asses to me, thanks.

[alyimoss]

horrortale king papyrus "ending", aka what happens if horror joins nightmare

i was thinking of making this into a fic or smthn but idk when ill get to that so. nevermind that im just gonna make a post. lotta yapping ahead. (word count: 1972)

so, i see a lot of people, when including horror in nightmares pantheon, say that he was either a) abducted against his will, or b) coerced by food, both for himself and his world. and i dont have much against the first interpretation, but the second… something's bothered me about it for a while, and its the simple fact that canon horror isnt that selfless. if nightmare were to offer him a deal, he would first and foremost be thinking about his own interests (he has already proven to be this kind of person in the comics).

so i instead think that were nm to offer him a deal, horror would only agree to a specific multi-part deal. and the first part? undyne's death.

we already know the whole "eating humans" thing was moreso to spite undyne and foil whatever plans she has than to help the residents of snowdin, shown by the fact that sans himself doesnt eat humans and that he urges everyone to keep this a secret from undyne and the rest of the underground. if a mysterious, powerful entity suddenly appeared and asked horror for his servitude in exchange for something he wants, a "mutually beneficial deal", i guarantee you that first and foremost he would think of undyne. of the traitor who sacrificed him "for the greater good".

and he would get that. i dont know if he would prefer to kill her himself or let nightmare to the dirty work, but either way, its not a hard thing for someone as powerful as him to do. only after his final act of revenge is certified does he think about everything else. with undyne gone, the underground would be left without a ruler, and things would likely get even more chaotic than usual. plus, they would still be left without food and without power.

i think hed ask for their CORE to be repaired or something else to be done about the power and magic situation going on in the underground first, but. i see this as something out of nightmare's range. hes not exactly a mechanic, and he doesnt want to waste time and energy getting someone who is just for another underling. so horror compromises on just food. regular deliveries of enough to feed all the monsters left in the underground. and this is a bit tedious, but still doable, and nightmare would likely agree.

but theres still one more part to the deal, and that is an opportunity to set a plan in motion.

with undyne out of the picture, someone would need to take control. and sans has the perfect idea of who.

the monster who has kept snowdin fed for years; who reported to undyne and mediated when her temper flared up; who kept up the puzzles and security around snowdin; who tried to keep the others' spirits up even when times were darkest…

thats right. he wants papyrus in charge.

i often see ht papyrus being portrayed in fandom as kind of a dope. someone innocent despite his creepy appearance and still rather incompetent. and this frustrates me because hes anything but. hunger, death, murder… all have taken their toll on him, and hes certainly not fine or completely sane. but id say hes arguably the sanest out of all the monsters weve seen in the comic so far (other than flowey and mettaton, i suppose… though mettaton is uncertain since weve only seen him in the past). hes also shown handling a lot of responsibilities, like the previously-mentioned providing of food and mediating when undyne goes too far. this applies to his brother, too, who was also known for having a temper. horrortale papyrus is still pretty cheery, but hes less idealistic, more responsible…

anyway, all that to say that 1) horrortale papyrus is horribly underrated and idk why because i love him dearly, and 2) between the reasons above and the fact that he's his brother, i think sans would consider him a perfect next-in-line. plus, all this power and respect and recognition… werent these all things he yearned for?

so before he leaves with nightmare, he does a little manipulating of the playing field. i dont know what this would be, honestly. talking papyrus up to others? making sure other monsters are aware of his capability and his kindness and his resolve? i dont know. but he does it. and after hes gone and undynes death is discovered, papyrus is chosen as the next king.

and you know what? i dont think he would want that.

because hes already gotten a taste of his "respect and recognition" via being an important figure in snowdin, and its been nothing but hell the whole time. hes exhausted. hes not one to be lazy or give up, but even a guy like him has his limits, and frankly hes probably reached them a long time ago. but the people desperately need a leader… and he cant exactly deny them. reluctantly, he agrees.

maybe a week into his rule, a miracle happens. food appears.

no-one knows where its from, but no-one can really care. "dont look a gift horse in the mouth" or whatever. the royal guard has to tear ravenous monsters away from the food in an attempt to save some to be rationed out. some guards undoubtedly succumb to the temptation themselves. but a good amount is saved and rationed. and the people look to papyrus with a new kind of reverence.

because how is it possible? under undynes rule, everything went to shit, and despite the years of promises, nothing was ever fixed. but as soon as papyrus take control, they get food, a good, livable amount of food, for the first time in years. theres hushed whispers that there must be a higher power involved. some seem to view papyrus himself as that higher power. the support for him grows from acceptance to wild endorsement. parents able to save their children thanks to the food cry and promise him unyielding loyalty. monsters who had all but accepted their deaths and met with a miracle instead fall at his feet. some compliments are backhanded: "i thought you would just be a useless stand-in, but youve actually saved us!!"

and papyrus smiles tightly at them all as panic mounts inside him. what will happen once this food runs out? will more appear? what if it doesnt?

but it does. it appears consistently, on a schedule. the people rejoice every time. but papyrus still finds himself fearing every day. barely able to rest amidst his panic. being king is a lot of responsibility, and he finds himself constantly overworking, so, so tired… but hes still putting on a smile for the public and assuring them that everything is okay.

with a consistent source of food, hes able to focus on other problems, such as getting monsters treatment for the effects of this hell that theyve been living in for so long and restoring the core. he's constantly meeting with different monsters, doing paperwork, handling this matter and that…

hes not alone. toriel would help him, i think. she knows what being a ruler is like, after all, and he is her good friend. but i dont know if other monsters, who rejected her as their queen, would be thrilled to have her even as an advisor. if mettaton is still sane, perhaps he would help, too, in whatever ways that he can. but papyrus still feels this… absense.

because his brother isnt there.

he never told anyone where he was going or what was happening. the most papyrus knows is that hes sure this all has to do with him somehow. but nothing else. not how, not to what extent. not whether hes even alive.

and for this one reason i think he would be so much more tired, so much more miserable. hes lost his only family, his support. the brothers' relationship in horrortale is pretty clearly strained, but theyre still shown to be close because, well, theyre family. theyve always been close. always helped each other. they were always there when the other needed to get something off his chest or get help. they kept a lot of secrets even from each other, yes, but im willing to bet that number's a whole lot less than the number they keep from others. what im getting at is that sans and papyrus are extremely important parts of each others lives, and one losing the other is a huge and unbearable change.

…and yet, with growing pangs of horror (ha) and guilt, papyrus finds that he doesnt know if its really much different now.

hes lost his biggest support, the one person he could tell almost anything to. but really he lost him years ago. for a long time, hes kept more secrets, done more work, put up with so much not to agitate his brother… even through his love, i think there was a mounting resentment and aversion to him… and he finds that with sans gone, he really gets about the same amount done. maybe more, actually, now with food and with toriel's help. and its a horrifying realization to him because thats not how he wants to think of his brother!

he did his best. he did help them, even if it was through backhanded and frankly horrible methods. his personality was a result of the hunger and that wound. if he was here, hed likely be more like his old self now that food is finally available. his brother isnt a bad person. he cant be, because papyrus cant handle that thought. but that resentment is unresolved. he feels abandoned. he doesnt know what emotion to feel. he prefers to just not think about it after a certain while.

and its the same with undyne. he misses her, he misses his friend. but she's been gone for years, too. when he thinks of her, he cant help but feel fear and anger. and thats not what he wants, either. he doesnt think of her, either.

and so hes left to rule in misery. roaming the unnaturally empty underground with the entirety of monsterkind praising his empty step. he has help, he has friends, but he still tries to handle everything himself. hes so tired that he doesnt even lie down because he doesnt know if he'll be able to get up. hes so stressed. even though they now have food, he barely eats. his eyesockets seem to sink somehow deeper into his skull. for the leader of a people finally recovering from devastation, he looks like hes only getting worse, and really he is. every day drains him more and more, and though he pushes himself to persevere for the sake of the people, he doesnt know how long he can go on.

doing what he thought was best, sans doomed his brother. if he ever goes back to his au to visit or something, he would see that first-hand. i think he'd struggle to accept it. would just run away. try to convince himself that he did what was right even as the guilt burns at his ribs.

this deal turns out more beneficial for nightmare than horror. nightmare gets a servant and a new source of negativity through ht papyrus (and though it would also spread a lot of positivity, i think its so little when compared to the whole mutliverse that nm finds it an acceptable trade and that some "positive" feelings, like the kind of god-like reverence some monsters in horrortale have for papyrus, are actually quite negative and feed him still), and horror gets to better his underground by sacrificing the only monster he probably bothered to care about: papyrus.

anyway. horrortale king papyrus. thats it thats all im gonna say goodnight

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

breakfast in bed

a/n: idk what to tell you, this is just a cute (horny) and domestic morning with matt.

warnings: matt murdock x reader, smut, established relationship, morning sex, kissing, oral, fingering, protected sex, penetrative sex, dirty talk, overstimulation, idk matt being late to court

word count: 2345

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

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Bright morning light streamed in through the large windows and caused your eyes to immediately squint as they began to blink open.

“Morning,” you heard your boyfriend hum, his chest vibrating underneath your cheek. 

A lazy smile seeping over your features, you turned your head to squish your face further into his warm skin, “good morning,” wanting so desperately to stay here forever.  

The remanence of last night’s activities still lingered between your legs as you pressed your body further into his, surely painting his thigh with the sticky memory as your left leg curled up over his. Grinding unconsciously against him in a fit of morning bliss, you turned out to be more sensitive than you had thought following the fun that had put you to sleep the previous night, your sore centre barely needing any reminding before it was trembling in want. Without even realising it, your lips began a lazy trail up Matt’s torso, the feathery touch of your adoring kisses made his hands roam down over your duvet-covered body.

“Come here,” his palm found your cheek and ushered you the rest of the way up, drawing your lips to his in a tender kiss. Feeling his fingers dip down under the covers, they curved around the plump of your ass with a needy knead on the way.

You whimpered against his tongue as his fingertips swept through your soppy petals, your head falling back a bit as your heavy lids blinked up at him. With upturned brows, you parted your legs more, granting him better access. 

His strong arm, reaching down, flexing against your body and determinedly craning to reach the spots he so wished to touch, invoked a sloppy-sounding symphony that caused a soft chuckle to rumble within him in contentment.

“You hungry?” you asked shakily as a long finger methodically popped all the way in and out of your quivering hole.

His other hand buried in your hair, Matt stole another kiss before growling, “fucking starving,” clearly not talking about his desire for food. 

Slowly raising yourself up on your hands and knees above his resting form, his touch never faulting, you suggested, “I could make us breakfast if you want,” your hips rocking into his touch as your body screamed for more.

A warm smile blooming at your sweet offer, “with what food in my fridge?” he pointed out the sparseness of his kitchen.

“Well, you never know,” you braced yourself against his chest as you tried to crawl over him to get up, “maybe I could whip something delicious up out of the stale takeout you undoubtedly have in there.”

“Maybe,” he drew out and craned his neck to nibble at your side, “or maybe you could just let me have a bit of breakfast in bed,” his grasp seized your form before it could disappear and flipped you further around.

“Matthew!” you shrieked, hovering a second above his face before his burly arms curled up and over your hips and drew your dripping mess down for him to have a taste, close enough for him to practically suffocate on your goodness, “you-, fuck…” your eyes quickly rolled to the back of your skull as his tongue turned your whole body into jelly atop of him. 

Fingers clenching the covers that now only haphazardly covered him, like a stretching cat you reached down and palmed the excitement tenting the fluffy duvet, earning a broad smack to your bottom that made your back arch. 

With the trembling of your thighs, you grew impatient and hastily reached to the bedside table, yanking the slim drawer open. Frantically, you snatched up a little foil packet and brought it to your other hand to try and rip it open.

The smooth wrapper slipping between your fingers, you grumbled, “god dammit, fuck!” and desperately brought it up between your teeth as Matt’s laughter vibrated against your clit. Finally getting it open and nearly dropping the condom in the frantic process, you pushed back the rest of the covers and let your upper body slump further down to press against his. 

Teeth digging into your bottom lip, your fingers curled around your partner’s girth, your lips still too far to kiss the dewdrop at the tip away, you stuck out your tongue and just barely managed to swipe it against the raging vein snaking up from the fussy base. Quickly rolling the latex on, you slid a palm down your side till it curved over the hands still groping your behind. Lacing your fingers in his, he reluctantly let your puffy pearl go with a pop and helped rotate your form back around. 

Clutching his hand tight in yours, you sank down on his length. In unison, both of you let out a needy gasp as you made your slow way down to the base, eventually bottoming out and resting there a moment, legs trembling on either side of his hips as you both reeled in the sensation. 

Desperately, your hips began to roll against his, “fuck, you feel so good,” he groaned as one of his hands slid up your form and found the slope of your tit, catching the weight in his palm.

“Matt,” you moaned, your wild bedhead surrounding you like a curtain as you swore you felt a trickle of drool drip down from the corner of your parted lips, too blissed out to truly notice. Your hand flexing in his, you lifted it up to your lips and sloppily planted a kiss on the fingers encompassing yours, one of them extending a moment to stroke your cheek. 

“That’s it, baby,” his left hand abandoned the jiggle of your boob and drifted down to clutch your hip, “ride it out, just like that,” he didn’t aid your movements as much as just settled into a front row seat, “nice and slow,” fingers hungrily indenting in your soft flesh. 

As you sluggishly continued to bounce in his lap, a pout couldn’t help but appear on your lips as your still drowsy body just couldn’t keep up with your ambitious desires, leaving you a whining mess on top of him as your sleepy efforts just wasn’t enough.

“Matt.”

“What, sweetheart?” he chuckled at your light-hearted cry for help. 

“I can’t, I’m too-…” you blubbered through your soft moans, “can you please help me?”

“Aw, you want my help?” he purred in a mocking tone, only moving to settle further down against the pillows. 

“Please,” you frustratingly begged, trembling on top of him like a leaf, “I feel so useless still being half asleep.”

“Oh, I think you’re adorable like this,” his fingers ghosted over your skin, causing you to shiver. 

“Matt, please. I wanna cum so bad.”

Only enjoying your sloppy efforts a second longer, he then utilised his brawny skills and flipped you over, rolling on top of you as you sank down into the mattress. Haven slipped out of your drooling cunt in the process, the vigilante wasted no time burying himself once more, thrusting up into you with such efforts that you swore you saw the stars themselves even though the sun had long ago risen. 

“That better?” he asked cockily, nudging his nose against yours as his strong forearms came to rest on either side of your head, his pelvis ending each motion with a tickle at your clit. 

Shakily, your limbs wrapped around his form, “f-fuck,” as his hard thrusts just about put you to sleep again with how mind-numbingly perfect they felt. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that,” he teased, bucking up into you in a way that made your body jolt, nearly pushing you far enough up for your head to collide with the wall. 

“Y-y-you’re-,” the whole bedroom went fuzzy as you finally felt the end near, “holy shit!”

Attempting a chuckle through his laboured grunts, “take that as a yes,” he captured your lips again, swallowing your lewd moans and mixing them with his own.

Letting one of your hands, clutching his neck for support, snake down between your bodies, you inadvertently bit down upon Matt’s swollen bottom lip as your fingers began a fierce dance over your clit. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to mind as it only extracted a more guttural groan from his throat. 

“Fuck, just like that, just like that,” you panted, sharing his breath as you felt yourself tumble over the edge, “don’t stop!” 

Body quivering beneath his, you held onto dear life as he too rode out his high, turning your moans into screams as he only increased his pace, making you buck beneath him from the overstimulation. 

Finally coming to a standstill deep within you, for a moment everything seemed perfect as you slowly crawled back from the depth with each synchronized breath.

“You know what?” you mumbled, your breath still heavy as Matt lazily planted a smattering of kisses along your jaw, “I retract my offer,” your fingers lightly traced the definitions along his spine, “I no longer have the energy to make you breakfast.”

A warm giggle bubbling out of him, “I think I’ll live,” Matt then consciously retracted from your warmth, still clenching around him and refusing to let go. With him still comfortably moulded on top of your form, you reached down and routinely tugged the spent condom off, tossing it in the nearby bin. 

“I blame you, just so you know,” you joked, “if it hadn’t been for you and your-, you know, then you could have indulged in a feast worthy of a king on a weekday!”

“Then what do you call the tasty breakfast I did enjoy?” he played off your joke, making you burst out a laugh. 

“Oh my god, you’re terrible,” you gushed, gazing up at him in adoration.

His expression suddenly morphing into something more sour, he muttered as realisation hit him, “weekday… wait, what time is it?”

“Um,” you located your phone in the tangled sheets, “it’s 8:14.”

“Oh shit!” he scurried out of bed and raced to the closet to yank out the very first suit his fingers grazed.

Slowly sitting up, you bit down on your smile as your eyes followed the chaotic swarm that was your boyfriend, whirling around the apartment, simultaneously scurrying to get his clothes on all the while darting from one end to the other, trying to locate every item necessary for him to be able to leave. 

“Glasses, glasses…” he mumbled, head whipping around as his fingers hastily flung his tie around his neck.

Calling his attention with a soft whistle, you pointed out for him, “on the coffee table,” and promptly giggled as he raced to put them on.

“Thanks!”

“Have a great day,” you called out from the bedroom, duvet hugged tightly to your chest. 

Shirt untucked, tie untied, and shoes only rashly tugged on, he sprinted out the door, only managing a rushed, “bye!” before you heard the door close behind him.

Not but two seconds after the front door slammed shut, you heard it jolt open once more. 

“Did you forget something?” you asked as you watched Matt determinedly march back into the apartment. Not offering you any context, your brows only furrowed further, “Matt?” 

His long strides carried him all the way back into the bedroom and without warning, bent down and scooped up your face in his palms, pressing a feverish kiss against your lips. 

Sucking in a surprised breath, your fingers sprung up and tangled themselves in the loose tie hanging from his neck. 

Painstakingly pulling back, Matt groaned, “you really shouldn’t be allowed to be in my bed in the morning.”

“Why?” you smiled, “is it really that bad?”

“No, it’s not,” his short nails scraped stripes along the base of your scalp, “that’s the problem,” and seized your lips once more. His tongue dancing against yours was only halted when a robotic repetition of his best friend’s name suddenly emanated from his phone. 

Letting out a pained grown, he fished it out of his pocket and accepted the call, putting it on speaker before sighing, “yeah?” 

“Dude, why are you not here yet?” Foggy snapped at the other end of the line, “I’m freaking out here! You’re supposed to do the opening statement!”

“I’m on my way,” he said, though didn’t move his feet even a millimetre closer towards the exit, “calm down.”

“No, you calm down!” Foggy protested as the man before you reluctantly raised one of your palms up to his lips, whispered you a hushed proclamation of love and then straightened back up, “wait,” his buddy’s tone suddenly softened, “did you just tell me that you love me? Because that won’t help your case, not today.”

“What? No!” he slowly made his way out of the bedroom. 

“Really?” the man on the other end challenged, “because it sure sounded like it. Wait-, are you-, are you still at home?” prompting a soft groan to emanate from Matt, “oh my god, you are! You’re over there getting your rocks off with your girlfriend while I have to carry our entire legal firm on my own back!”

“Okay, alright,” Matt huffed on his way out of the apartment, “I’ll be there in 15 minutes.”

“15? It takes at least half an hour to get here from your place!”

Figuring your presents no longer was a secret, you shouted sweetly after him, “good luck in court!” 

“Yeah,” you just barely heard Foggy scoff, “if he makes it in time.”

“I always make it, shut up,” he shot back before turning his attention to you one last time, “I’ll be home around 5.”

“Okay,” your body could help but crane to watch him disappear, “and, hey Matt?”

“Yeah?” he stopped right before reaching the door. 

“I love you too.”

Still on the line, Foggy’s groan rang throughout the apartment, “I swear to god, Murdock, if you crawl back into bed right now and leave me to deal with this case that you convinced me we should take on, then I will fucking leave you for a position at Landman and Zack!”

© 2023 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[irithylldancer]

Messmer and Melina are the bookends to Marika's family. Her family begins and ends with a vision of fire.

Just something I've been thinking about today. It's taken me a while to come up with a satisfactory narrative for Messmer's origins and I don't think I would have come to any conclusions if I didn't think on the origins of Melina. Some scattered thoughts from me and others can be found in this thread here. Also some extra context for this theory: I don't think Marika was ever put into the jar and I think Radagon was always a part of Marika, not a separate person who then joined with her.

I want to preface by saying that I think the Gloam Eyed Queen is a foil to Marika. There isn't much info in the game about her and she remains quite mysterious. They're both Empyreans chosen by the fingers and possibly, also born influenced by fire. To what extent, I couldn't really say for sure unless I go into super speculative town. We know GEQ harnessed the power of Destined Death via fire, giving the ability to her apostle children; and Marika passes on the affinity for fire to Messmer and Melina. I think it's something that's passed down genetically (idk another word to describe it lol) and not them being influenced directly by outside forces (like Malenia and Miquella) because of Radagon also naturally having that red hair. As a divestment of Marika, he took on that property. Essentially, GEQ embraced her fire while Marika smothered hers.

Malenia and Millicent's characters helped give me a lot of answers to questions. We know from completing Millicent's questline that she was born when Malenia bloomed her scarlet rot. An action that was most likely very a intense emotional and physical pressure (a reference to a crucible? heavy emotions and bodily stress strained to make new life akin to smelting?). Another huge clue was looking through the various statues of Marika. They help give us a decent view of the timeline.

The headless one is kind we find in the Land of Shadow. Middle is Marika holding baby Messmer from his boss arena (from kitetales on YT), and the last one is the kind we find around the Lands Between. Judging from the length of her hair, we can start to piece some info together. The story trailer for Shadow of the Erdtree and the Hornsent Grandame mention Marika's betrayal. I think they were the ones who constructed those churches around the land. As an Empyrean, a vessel, they saw the potential for her to become their new living god. It's why I don't think Marika was ever put into the jar. She was already a living jar in their eyes.

Then we have this snapshot from the story trailer. Her hair is much longer than the statues depicted in the LoS. What's also interesting is how she's dressed. It's not her typical attire, but something very similar to what Radagon wears. In this moment, if we assume that Radagon's persona has come into existence and they share the same body, her ascension didn't happen alone. If we reference back to Malenia and Millicent's creation, Markia becoming a vessel for the Elden Ring would also count as intense emotional and physical pressure, off shooting new life in the form of Messmer. If this is the case, he is technically the son of Marika and Radagon. Radagon's mix into this off shooting of Messmer is what classifies him as their child, earning him a butterfly. His birth would have been incredibly special if it happened in that moment and why I think Messmer was given so many blessings and love. Why he was the 'chosen one' for her crusade. Now looking to the statue of Marika holding baby Messmer, her second braid has been cut (it's hard to tell from the photo, but kitetales does rotate the statue in a video and the braid is gone). That cut braid we find later in the Shaman Village as the Golden Braid talisman, an offering she leaves before veiling the LoS.

As for Melina (also butterfly baby), we know for sure that Marika and Radagon had converged back together because I think she was born as a result of shattering the Elden Ring. Another moment of extreme emotional and physical pressure. Melina tells you she was born at the foot of the Erd Tree and that her purpose was given to her by her mother from inside of it. Anything she remembers revolves around the Erd Tree. And since most fans agree that Marika is influencing the guidance of grace, it's also possible she was able to convey Melina's purpose to her while crucified inside the Tree. I won't go too into detail about Melina as a person since I've discussed it in another thread, but we can reference Millicent as her parallel. Offshoots of divine beings, not raised by their mothers, but they feel this compulsion to complete a journey and fulfill a purpose. In the end, they both regain some memories and find their autonomy as their own persons.

Ending this really long post by bringing up Law of Regression.

The fundamentalists describe the Golden Order through the powers of regression and causality. Regression is the pull of meaning; that all things yearn eternally to converge.

I think this sum up Messmer's, Melina's, and Millicent's narratives really well. Despite having no memories, Melina and Millicent feel this pull. A force of yearning to return to their mothers in some way because they are fragments of them. And I think Messmer feels this pull too, but he knows he can never make his journey home.

[iridescentttears]

idk about u guys but this feels like a riddle… sommonday, 8 days, guarded secret, december 1964, whistleblower, hyperbole.

okay so if summonday is the 8th day of the week, and the countdown began on release day july 23rd, and then 7 days later on july 30th the countdown ended and another countdown in negative time began. if “time is dead and meaning has no meaning” then everything could be malarkey and there’s not gonna be any way to predict what’s gonna happen. but also, maybe time got reset when it “died” and july 30th became day 1/ the first day of the week. we’re currently at day -5 and 19 hrs.

perhaps (based on nothing but the number 8 maybe-clue) on the -8th day of the countdown which falls on august 7th, they’re will be some form of a release/ another clue that hints closer to the answer.

that would make the time from release day to lost files release day 16 days (two weeks if we are counting summonday as the 8th day of the week)

all i’m saying is this feels very much like the brewings of a modern day cipher hunt like maybe it’ll be less about traveling to physical places like the original but instead some sort of wild goose chase treasure hunt online through hopping websites and soundtracks and books from 1925 and just like mixing the media formats. i think the mixed medias in tbob are so incredible and are really what set this book apart as its completely original entity and not just a sequel to journal 3. and with that shift feels very reflective of the era of time we live in now and in no way tries to recreate any previous era. ALSO all the metaphorical foils and parallels that alex hirsch has been begging us to see through the great gatsby are important. the literary connections between bill and gatsby’s characters AND the real life lesson of: we can’t repeat the past, we can’t get back things we lost, if we choose to live in the past it will lead to our demise but if we look to the future and accept what’s happened, we have a chance of building something amazing. (sooo no season 3 ppl like that’s not what any of this is about)

and and side note if the majority of the public believed the government release of the truth about “summonday” to be hyperbole, what about the minority that took it seriously? who are they? did they decide it together? are they in some sort of group/cult together?

the themes of cults, cult leaders, sociopaths, narcissists, and control come to my mind immediately regarding tbob, great gatsby, and now these weird cryptic messages from jason ritter…

sooooo long winded answer later,

i would love it if the countdown would end in 3 days @ -8 days and for it to lead to another link or to a code or to some sort of next step for us all to work together on tumblr and twitter and reddit and discord and all the platforms. thus ushering in the beginning of a new cipher hunt— but not like a cipher hunt 2. this is alex hirsch we’re talking about. i think the stakes will be different and i think it will be much less about physically finding things in the real world and more focused to online clues. and if it does end up being some sort of wild goose chase treasure hunt online i will be sooooo overjoyed.

cause i think that working together to solve mysteries as a collective is where this fandom shines. we make allies, we learn from each other, y’all are all so fucking funny and smart and passionate and genuine and i love hanging out in this community in the space between space and time.

i would love to go on that adventure with y’all cool internet sleuths!!

[dandelionlinolinaline]

ok rant time, stick with me.

the reason i don’t like damian wayne is not that i don't enjoy him as a character, it is that he feels like the final nail in the coffin that is 'robin'. now what do i mean by this? dick grayson as robin is obviously fantastical. he is an interesting foil to bruce/batman, he i tragic and complex, but his backstory is very much not real. he feels like a fictional character, so it isn’t a stretch to suspend disbelief and 'buy' him being robin, so to say. the family dynamic he has with bruce is NOT like father and son (argue with the wall on this one), it's paternal, but regardless of age difference in different interpretations, it is very much an unconventional family dynamic.

now, i've never really had a major issue with jason todd as robin (maybe because he has been red hood for basically my entire lifetime), but he was the first step in a direction of a more traditional family; son, father, grandson (and older brother), which i strongly dislike. now say what you will about jason todd, but he was arguably the most 'real' of the robins (in terms of backstory). he has a much more plausible family background (not counting sheila working with the joker) and feels less like the fantasy of dick grayson and more like wish fulfilment of a poor kid (ultimately this is what i think led to his downfall at dc - they couldn’t sell the 'fantasy' of jason todd in the way they could the other robins).

tim drake is where i kinda take issue. he is the 'normal' robin, but is very clearly an 'upgrade' from jason todd. he fits into the socialite life, bruce is significantly older than him (enough to be his actual father), and dick also takes a much more active role as a 'big brother' than he did with jason. tim drake, as neither dick or jason did, seems like the successor to bruce wayne, as well as batman. he is a genius, brilliant detective, rich and well-versed in the upper echelons of society. he is a HUGE leap in the direction of this sort of 'born for the role' idea i really despise for robin.

(i will take the liberty of following dc's example and overlook stephanie brown's robin)

lastly damian. not only is he batman's biological son, he is a prodigy who has trained since birth to be the next batman and is the heir to the league of assassins (i also hate what his creation meant for talia as a character, but i'll let that rest). he is now amalgamation of this slow trajectory towards robin as an heir who is divinely 'destined' to become batman (evidenced by the fact that damian is the only robin to consistently have the surname wayne).

don’t get me wrong, i greatly enjoy damian wayne and think he has an interesting dynamic with a number of characters and has some really lovely character devlopmemt and arcs, but i hate hate hate how robin went from 'orphans make do' to 'the heir apparent to not only batman but bruce wayne' and i. idk, i just wish dc had kept more of the charm and choice that the relationship between bruce and dick.

[michimonie]

Idk if I've posted any of these before, but anyone want a few recipes from my old Disney recipe book?

(Disney Recipes: From Animation to Inspiration)

For example...

Uncle Scrooge's Golden Risotto

Left Page

"Gold and more gold! Look at it, touch it, and if you can't get enough of it, try eating it! Gold is Uncle Scrooge's main preoccupation, as he counts and recounts his vast fortune, more than "three acres of money" to be exact. Beholding a dish of this golden yellow risotto, we're sure the old miser's eyes would sparkle with joy. The dish blended with saffron, the spice worth its weight in gold, and served with a crowning touch of edible gold on top. The soft, warm glow this elegant dish provides is proof of your great generosity towards friends and family, a sign of how much you care."

"And I like to dive around my money like a porpoise..."

---

Right Page

HOW TO MAKE IT

4 Servings 1 Hour Preparation Time

INGREDIENTS

6 cups - low-salt vegetable broth 1/2 teaspoon - saffron threads 2 tablespoons - unsalted butter 2 tablespoons - extra-virgin olive oil 1 medium onion, finely diced 1 pounds - arborio rice 1/2 cup - dry white wine 3 ounces - parmesan cheese, freshly grated 1 piece - edible gold* salt and pepper to taste * Edible gold is available in specialty gourmet shops and fine bakeries.

Being vegetable broth and saffron to a boil; then reduce to a simmer and proceed to the next step.

Melt 1 ounce of butter and olive oil in a pan. When butter begins to sizzle, add onion and sauté until translucent.

Add rice and saute until coated and somewhat translucent, about 5 to 6 minutes. Slowly add wine. Stir in a single direction until most of the wine has evaporated.

Add a ladleful of stock. Continue to stir in the same direction until incorporated. Do not add more stock until the previous amount has been completely absorbed. Continue until all of the stock has been used and/or the rice is al dente, about 10 to 15 minutes from the start.

Remove pot from heat and add final ounce of butter and Parmesan cheese. Shred the "gold" over the top just before serving.

MENU IDEAS

You might preface this dish with a salad with "Bambi and Thumper's Green Goddess Dressing" and follow up with "Esmeralda's Turkey Piccata."

VARIATIONS

Add fresh peas or quickly sauteed asparagus tips to your risotto just prior to serving, for additional texture, flavor, and visual appeal.

SERVING SUGGESTIONS

Refrigerate leftover risotto in a flat plate or pan. The next day, cut into shapes and sauté in olive oil. Serve in any number of ways: alone as a quick appetizer, as an entree with a light stew poured over the top, or simply alongside fried eggs for a rich, extra special breakfast.

WHAT CHILDREN CAN DO

With parental supervision kids can help stir the risotto or, using safety scissors, they can help cut the "gold" foil into little strips to decorate the top of the risotto before it is served.

[mystristages]

god I remember when we were trying to figure out what time-frame the first 10 issues of sm2099 take place in and it's like:

day 1: miguel is drugged with rapture (6-7pm ish), goes home to tell dana, and returns to alchemax (probably around midnight since he was able to enter undetected). the transformation happens, the building explodes, and he escapes on the skykite and passes out. I know this is all in one day (or at least less than 24 hours) because rapture takes 24 hours to bind to your system.

day 2: he wakes up and it's morning because he needs to darken the windows (idk. somewhere between 8-10am?). gabriel comes over, miguel notices venture, and kicks him out. he hotglues the skykite foil to his back and jumps out a window. the venture fight happens. miguel then spends "the next couple of days criss-crossing the city" to throw off trackers.

that last speech bubble is so down in it by nine inch nails of him. lol

day 4: when he gets home he tells all of this to lyla, finishing the flashback. tyler stone shows up to his apartment at like 2am to hit him with a white man jumpscare.

in the morning, gabriel tells him about kasey. she takes him as a hostage, escapes, he sees the specialist go after her, he fights the specialist, and then falls into downtown. it's probably the afternoon around this time.

this is where it gets a little difficult...he crash lands in a pile of garbage and he's all fucked up and gets to a doctor and then the vulture picks him up and knocks him out and he spends an indeterminate amount of time in a dingy little cell. the funniest possible outcome is that the vulture hitting him on the head finally got him to get a full night's sleep for the first time in like 7 years so I'm counting that as a new day

day 5: the vulture fight happens. miguel gets uptown again and sees that he has stans (the spiderites) and gets freaked out and goes home. he takes a bath and dana jumpscares him (white woman edition) and then gabriel shows up and they have to go to wellvale. after that he destroys the security camera, and later visits george.

and that's it. he can't catch a break for nearly a week oh my god someone help him

[shinakazami1]

Shina's TSP Out of Bounds Adventures - EMPLOYEE DATABASE COUNT

THIS POST BROKE 9 TIMES I AM CLOSE TO BEING DONE but tbh it was so silly, feeling like I have a thin foil hat with 'theory master' written on it

I have explored a bit of the game out of bounds and I know its been done before but I still want to share some stuff so I want to focus on this particular screen I found in the normal ver of the Museum (I think it sometimes shows in other ones in Parable), focusing on the 'total employee in x' lines MORE UNDER THE CUT

TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN OFFICE: [2]

We know the first one is Stanley

The other one has no number and no status. It is possible the system being off just cannot tell the mysterious employee, their data might be corrupted or sth else idk, I'm rewriting this for 9th time My theories: a) Narrator: makes the most sense, might not have a number associated with himself but has power over Parable, seems to have internet access (mentions of Steam, reviews, Twitter), his status being left unknown might be due to his computer working but not being connected to the system b) Settings Person/TK/432: people yelled at me that it shouldn't be the case cus they got fired (look below) but: - 432 sorta evaporated likewise - as the Settings Person, being able to keep the game on rolling, they seem to have overall some control over the game - they used to be an employee but since they now aren't human, it is possible the system deleted their files but still sees them Other options: Curator, other Stanley, dead rat, Mariella

TOTAL EMPLOYEE IN DATABASE [604]

There are in total 599 numbered screens - since two are fired

Fired ones: 104 - view on 432's desk; 601 - view on 434's

There is also blackened ones, 097 and 098 but these might also just not work

There are also 4 whitened screens with no numbers (look above next to fired and here) - I do not know if I should coun them in anything since no "employee" is written on them. However, meetings room and stairs often show up as diff employees so I do think they deserve a mention

we also have 2 special employees - Pirate and Clippy.

Pirate is just a view on 427's desk (we have a few diff camera views throughout this whole thing but I have no energy to show every one now)

Clippy, 104 - fired, and 234 all show 432's desk. It might repeat more times but I think that's quite good to mention

We also have a 000 employee that doesn't have a special screen

We also have two errors: 028 (which is sideways) and 528

So to summarise and try to make sense out of that:

Computer screen says there are 604 employees

The room, however, has 601 (603 if you include Pirate and Clippy) employee screens 595 normal employees; 2 fired - 104, 601; 2 errors - 028, 528; 2 blackened - 097, 098

3 special ones - Pirate, Clippy and 000

4 white screens without numbers

My suggestions: a) 603 in total (601 with fired ones+ Pirate and Clippy) + 000 - prob the easiest b) Delete 2 fired ones (599 left), add 4 whitened out and Pirate - since 432 is already fired, we shouldn't count back Clippy c) 595 normal + 2 blackened + 3 specials + 4 whites d) 594 ( since 432 is already fired), count Pirate, Clippy, 2 blackened, 2 errors and 4 whites

I'm so done

[targaryenluvs]

So hello, I think I placed this request is someone else inbox and it’s so embarrassing. So I hope you're having a good day/night. I was wondering if you would consider the crows × teen! reader. Like the one you have done, because I love that. Maybe she has her first crush and everyone is reaching in their own way. I just really want to see kaz glaring and staring at the boy and is scared him so much. (Protective dad)

-🦢

this is shorter than most since i’m in a rush but enjoy!

Where'd All The Time Go?

kaz brekker x teen!reader, crows x teen!reader, oc x teen!reader

warnings: cursing, yelling, intimidation? (idk if that counts) kissing

You’d tried so hard to hide him.

Elias, or Eli as you called him was amazing. You’d meet him whilst shopping with Nina and you couldn’t keep your eyes off of him.

He was the son of a Pub Owner, but he wanted to be more. His ambition matched yours, so did his personality. The two of you got to talking and ended up conversing for hours. To the point where Jesper had to run around and try to find you which lead to you lecturing him on the fact that you were sixteen and able to handle yourself at night.

On the way home you begged Jesper not to mention it to anyone except Wylan. Wylan would never tell a soul and Wylan would make sure Jesper never let it slip. You had wanted to tell Nina but she would tell Matthias and you weren't sure if he fully understood the concept of a secret relationship and Nina had a particularly loud personality.

So you snuck around, Eli also worked as a Barkeep and would sometimes pick up on information left out in the open by inebriated customers which he'd relay to you.

You were able to sneak him books, his father wanted him focused on running the bar one day but you knew it wasn't what he wanted out of life.

You'd spend the time you usually set aside for leisure time to spend helping Eli study. It was too risky to bring him into the Slat or the Crow Club since you knew you'd run into someone you knew who'd question you for his presence.

Eli's mother knew about the two of you and loved you a lot, you were well-mannered and educated as well as gorgeous. What's not to like? And you loved her too. She always had something to give you, a trinket, a book etc. One of the things you adored?

Her cooking. Gosh it was like being transported to heaven. She herself was half Zemeni and it was always nice to have someone appreciate your culture.

Sometimes you showed up just to talk to her.

When his parents were out and two of you had the place to yourselves you loved to cook together. It helped you imagine a future life together, peaceful and sweet.

But when his dad was in you'd sneak him into your place.

And you'd always been so careful, until today.

You had a few drinks at a local tavern, perhaps a bit more than a few but who was counting?

Eli had gotten himself a secret job at the biggest Library around with the only problem being that it was so close to Pekka Rollins turf. You knew if he found out about Eli he would be used to lure you.

Instead of scaling the walls to your bedroom you thought that walking right inside would be more fitting. "I'm so hungry E." You whined as Eli laughed, "I'll bake you something. Make you some eat."

You giggled, "What in the Saints are you on about?" Eli pushed open the door as he frowned, "Don't mock me, that is a very rude thing to do my love." As you walked in you felt at home, quickly you lead him upstairs as fast as possible, along with a few trips on the stairs.

But your swift escape was foiled when you ran right into Kaz.

"Y/n." He spoke in an angry tone, although anger wasn't new in Kaz's case. "Kaz." You replied in a low, mocking tone. "See now that's mocking babe." You laughed, but Eli wasn't.

"What's wrong?" He laughed drily, "Nothing, just the fact that he's staring at me like he's gonna skin me and maybe shoot me in the head to finish it off." That brought out a smirk from Kaz, "Would you suggest another way to ward off unseemly boys from trying to get with a girl too high above them in every way.

"Aww how nice of you to say so Kazzle. Come along E." You smiled but as you walked Kaz grabbed your wrist before swiftly pulling back.

"You can go upstairs but he cannot. Leave. Now."

"That's not fair! He's my guest and my boyfriend he can do as he please."

"Boyfriend?"

"I mean a friend who just so happens to be a boy. Goodnight!"

"Y/n."

"Yes she's my girlfriend and there's nothing you can do about it. She's a grown woman and not a little kid with a crush, I know who she is. She's not stupid and you know that. Y/n wouldn't risk getting into a relationship if she didn't know the person and if they weren't a good guy. I love her with everything I have. She always pushes me to be my best and half the things I've been to scared of doing she held my hand and led me through it. She taught me so much and I'm forever grateful. She's absolutely gorgeous, intelligent, articulate, well-spoken and overall an incredible woman and I'm forever grateful she chose to be with me and I will always treat her with the upmost respect because she deserves nothing less."

"And E is a good guy. He's sweet, and genuine. He always knows when I'm in a bad mood and he always knows how to cheer me up. He cooks for me when I can't be bothered. He reminds me to clean up, he knows everything about me and I him. No I haven't met his father yet but that's because he's an ass. His mothers an amazing woman and incredibly sweet to me and treats me like I'm her own. And not only is Eli an amazing guy but he's super pretty!" You exhaled and inhaled quickly.

Eli stood with his jaw dropped and eyes bulging. "I- Y/n." You sat down on the stairs with him as he sat next to you with his hands clasped with yours.

Kaz was stunned, and he hadn't been speechless in forever, his fast thinking and wit was one of the main reasons he survived.

Inej and Nina were standing with Kaz, a bit behind him.

"I think I'm going to cry, I wish Matthias would say something like that to me."

Inej smiled, she'd always known you'd attract suitors, you were nothing short of stunning. But the Barrel had no shortage of annoying, immature boys and she was thanking all her Saints you had seemed to find the best.

Kaz looked back at her, Oh how he wished he could say that, express all of his millions of thoughts and praise. But it was too hard, so he looked back at you to see Eli smiling whilst resting your forehead on his.

And so he relented, "Leave the door open halfway and if you try anything I will drag you through the streets attached to a wagon and then let the Crows have a go. It's been a while since we delivered a proper beating."

"Yes sir." Eli nodded, you were surprised his head didn't fall off with how quickly he nodded.

Kaz sat back down at his desk and opened his locked drawer, grabbing one of the old notes you use to leave him, it had a drawing of a flower, your favourite, a Black Dahlia. And he couldn't help but sigh.

Where'd all the time go?

[thedarkmongoose]

SPOILERS: i have mixed feelings about the bear s3 but knowing that s3 & s4 were written/filmed at the same time makes sense. s4 will prob answer s3's q's. (A LOT was left open-ended) usually i love that, but it felt like the show lost itself in certain places, esp the self-indulgent finale. all stories are indulgent to some degree, but too much decadence rarely leaves room for substance.

and i get why they tried to do the chef's table thing, but other than andrea, syd, and luca, everyone else's acting was disjointed and trite. but i loved ep 1; it was an ethereal, artsy, meditative piece (peace) that was necessary after the chaotic s2 finale. however, as a big fan of the show, it was hard for me to finish the eps.

the standout in s3 FOR SURE was tina's ep - directed by ayo. glad we got her backstory. personally i liked her anxiety-inducing job hunt bc it's really like that irl, esp for older woc. the sobbing while eating a free sandwich was relatable, and the mikey convo was super impactful. but as much as i loved the ep, it still felt superficial compared to s2 'forks' (richie) or 'honeydew' (marcus). we never see her son again either; all we get is tina yelling at him to quiet down.

then there was marcus's mother's funeral which seemed like it was going to be more central to the plot than it was. i wish we got more. and claire is still one of the most underwritten characters EVER. nothing about her or the mis en scène really sells it that she's a doctor lol. and the scene with the faks trying to apologize on carmy's behalf was beyond cringe. i like matty matheson - i have his cookbook, but there was entirely too many faks in s3.

and let's be real: where was ebra & sweeps? ebra has such an interesting story that i'm HOPING we get to see in s4. sweeps too - he tried out for the chicago cubs! but on a positive note, i loved the chemistry between syd/luca. it was v sweet and organic. wonder if they'll be a thing in s4 since luca is carmy's foil. too bad marcus was barely in s3, tho the hug between him & luca at the party was cute. syd's meltdown mirroring carmy's in s2 was also a nice touch.

idk how to feel about sugar's labor scene. most praise it, but it didn't hit the same for me. donna's over-acting (the whole series) is really distracting and i can't take her seriously. ik she's supposed to be mentally unwell, but it borders on cartoonish. the hospital moment was heartwarming, but again, artificially. and pete was so underwritten too, just so they could have that mom moment. i liked the scene with him and syd tho. it felt authentically awkward.

i also understand what they were trying to do with the finale, but it was a flop for me. the scene with andrea/carmy staring out into the chicago night was introspective and beautiful, but the msg doesn't hit all the way bc we have a group of wealthy celeb chefs saying it's okay to stop while you're ahead and enjoy life while you can. every second counts. unfortunately for those who are not celeb chefs, it's not that easy to simply "enjoy life."

on one hand, i agree that food is life and restaurants have been community "third places" forever (essential to life itself; historically, like when revolutionaries would gather at pubs or cafes). however, do i think that fine dining and the "art" that comes with it is necessary? no. if there were more spots like the original beef/bear in the world tho, that would be a good thing.