#if there's any spelling mistakes sorry lol

[parisoonic]

How the hell do you manage to superimpose the hilariously exagerated proportions of the tf2 mercs into a cohesive 2d style? I always struggle SO much with like, the way the mercs' models have huge hands, the way they have relatively low-poly definition on things like arms, shoulders, and legs... and Especially the way like, the models are kinda janky when you pose them for art purposes- when using movement tools, things like armpits and seams between body parts get all deformed... Which makes the study of form and silhouette rather difficult.

I assume that a lot of your ability to translate the concept of the mercs from their original mediums into your own works of art comes to you quite naturally- through experience you have with drawing and art style stuff, as well as through intuition. I was simply wondering if I could poke at your mind and get some insight into your process, any thoughts you have about the proportions and silhouettes of the mercs, any quirks you've found while drawing the mercs, or simply what you enjoy drawing about them. Like, don't be afraid to infodump about something just because you think people wouldn't find it interesting- I am here, I am sitting, and I am listening- if you so choose to speak.

I am utterly fascinated and enraptured by the more behind-the-scenes aspect of art. The mundane things that come second nature to great artists yet seem so revolutionary to less experienced artists.

I love your work, I look forward to seeing more of it, and I hope you have a nice day :]

Sorry for the late reply! I've been a little…stuck on how to answer this but that's mainly because to me, drawing is composed of SO many different little skills - you have form, anatomy, shape language, silhouette, appeal, rhythm, acting and posing…not to mention everything AFTER your raw draughtmanship like line style, rendering and colour theory. Trying to distill a multiude of small skills into some pithy advice is overwhelming to my brain. So I'll take the invitation to ramble instead :))

I don't think I have any new or revolutionary insight into the tf2 guys specifically - more I'm using them as work horses to excercise general silhouette/posing/shape-language and further my skills when it comes to drawing characters!

I do agree though the proportions are rather silly when you stop and think about them realistically…they can be kinda tricky if you follow their 'actual' proportions. what looks great individually was maybe never meant to be directly compared (ie: Heavy's hand size against Spy's lol). It would've been funny if the TV show exsisted and we had more content to review…would the animators have had rules like Spy and Heavy can never shake hands? Would they cheated the proportions for shots? Or would they have said WHATVER it's gonna look weird and embraced it? (Like Kingpin in Spiderverse lol)

Paul Lasaine for 'Into the Spiderverse' This is AWESOME. But it's also one of the silliest designs I've ever seen comitted to screen. The varied scales of the characters work because of the unifying treatment (lighting, rendering, consistant hand anatomy, consistant cxlothing fold treatment etc) and because they are sort of proportional within themselves. A common manta is that hands should be about as large as a characters face....which they all are here!

Human brains are very flexible and forgiving though. It's totally fine for you to put a character with huge hands and head next to a teeny tiny character! Vanellope and Ralph from Wreck-It Ralph look grand next to each other! And in that film you even have varying levels of stylisation sitting against each other (unified by the look dev treatment of the shaders and lighting). I think as long as the chracter is proportional within themselves it sort of works out. IE: a general rule is that a hand should be as large as the face so…you can have some large arse hands as long as their placed on a body with a big arse head. Unifying characters with the same treatment (ie: lineart brush, colouring style will also help them look cohesive next to each other :) )

I don't actually reference the 3D models/animations very much at all and instead draw their proportions based on my tastes for stylisation following their general vibes/silhouette profiles. I don't stick THAT close to their in-game looks and there are artists who do that are so so so much better than me (Creedei and Flapjack come to mind). I'm not amazing at body-type differentation and TBH they're all wearing chunky clothes all the time so I usually draw the guys as one-of-three body shapes: Heavy is the uniquely wide guy; Sniper/Scout/Spy are all tall and slim and Demo/Soldier/Medic/Engie have a little more of the generic 'hero' bodytype with varying tallness and broadness of the shoulders

Something like this! You can vary all these individual elements in terms of size, thickness, taper amount etc to create different characters. If you ARE going to reference the 3d works though you'll need to apply some anatomy knowledge to overcome the weird shoulders, armpits and knees which desperately need blendshapes to correct the 3D volumes and approach it a little more like an animation supervisor. There's a reason why you see in making-ofs and art-ofs character designers, character leads or animation supes doing drawovers of the models. These are character models that have had great effort put into their 'base' silhouette but it still needs to be reinforced in every frame for maximum appeal.

Shiyoon Kim for 'Raya' This sort of thing will occur at multiple stages during the animation process. Shiyoon Kim's notes are post final model but pre-animation. Most likely for internal rig tests, exploring what blend shapes and alt shapes are needed for the rigs etc. If your production has time, this will continue all the way to final anim. IF! But it's interesting to see how he emphasises the shapes and enhances the character acting of the 3d model.

As for 'mundane things' - I wouldn't say they're second nature! (If that makes you feel better!) I have to actively really persue certain advice and try to figure out how to best apply it. This can sometimes involve redrawing and redrawing an element of the drawing until I've grasped the nettle of whatever I'm after or…..until I get frustrated and either delete the drawing or just call it done lol

Here, I'm looking for a really specific flow of the head that sells both the acting and a subtle head tilt. I'm also trying to apply the general mantra regarding faces that converging lines (set by the eyebrows and mouth) are more appealing than parallel. It's tough! I also tend to use a drawing I've already done as a template/reference on the page too. Oh! This page is an amazing example of why I'm not an animator or storyboarder…consistancy? Who is she? 💅

Converging lines (that form tapered shapes) are always more appealing than parallel. Using this logic you can loft the facial features across converging lines to create dynamic appealing espressions. Combining this with anatomy, perspective and rotation is the tough part though. I'm still learning o7

The things I probably think about MOST are always flats vs curves, simple vs complex and general line of action/flow...and then eliminting tangents. Each of these can be a dedicated visual-essay on their own - hence my stumbling as to answer your question. Anyhow, not sure if it's ever come up on this blog but I looove dinosaurs :)) so i'm using a wee piece to demostrate these ideas! (but also to demostrate these concepts apply to everything from humans characters to animals, props and background design)

Okay, I'm getting self-aware that this is getting really long :') I have a wee tutorial tag for my blog if anyone wants to comb through my garbled art-thoughts. Learning, studying, repetition and practice will always be the greatest teachers! I'm glad you like my art- thank you so much for the lovely comments - I feel like such a noob still and not qualified to give people advice but we're in it together learning! High-five! 🙌

[fizzy0bloom]

the length stans will do with this 'thing' is concerning 

This MF has nothing 

I don't know why die-hard fans will excuse / gaslight / pretend that he is this deep and relatable character 

he's just a raipst 

that it  

I generally think people who claim he's a comfort character are so mentally ill they need to leave this fandom or just evil themselves 

(serially how do you relate to him? Do you wanna do what he does so badly? I need answers )

but God forbid we discuss and like Stella, right? 

I also want to mention this weird obsession with other fandoms and comparing them 

I don't know who that guy from Jojo but I bet he's 10 times better writing than this ugly ass moth

Again, it's ok if you like him i just had enough of those weird people 

and if you're from Twitter please stop acting like character discussions don't exist 

they do this for all characters 

call me a Viv hater all you want but I am not that delusion like you this is so embarrassing 

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part two

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: implied sexual content

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 2.5k

You weren’t sure what woke you at first but when you opened your eyes, you found the brilliant, early morning light that streamed through a crack in the curtains. Groaning, you rubbed the sleep from your eyes, not missing the unmistakable rustling of clothes somewhere at the foot of the bed. 

Peeking over the sheets to the source of the sound, you found Ale working to put her pants back on, her bare back to you. You propped yourself against the headboard as you watched on, biting your lip at how Ale’s tattoos deliciously shifted over her rippling muscles. She picked something up from the floor before she turned towards the bed and you caught sight of the darkening marks on her neck and chest. When she saw you looking at her, she smiled, a little bashful, which you returned in kind.

“What time is it?” You cringed at how you croaked out the words.

“Early. You should go back to sleep.” Ale said, putting her bra on as she kept your gaze.

You hummed. “I could say the same for you.”

Ignoring what she said you sat up on the bed, allowing the sheets to slide down and settle by your waist as you stretched. Ale’s eyes wandered to your chest which, you supposed, bore the same marks you could see on hers, and you relished the attention. Once she found your eyes again, you sent her a knowing smirk before you left the bed, headed to the closet where you grabbed the nearest fresh shirt you had, and tossed it to Ale. 

Without even looking at the shirt, she caught it with ease. You raised your brow, both in question and in wonder. In response, Ale just smiled innocently at you. Ale pulled the shirt over her head, hiding the marks from view, then she moved towards you, her eyes dark and shining with intent.

Your body remembered last night’s endeavours before you did: every nerve in your skin lit up in anticipation for Ale’s touch, a fuse waiting for a spark. She laced an arm around your waist and pulled you flush to her front with a strength that left you breathless, her clothed body firm against your bare flesh. Without your heels she almost towered over you that you had to stand on your toes to wrap your arms around her neck. You closed your eyes when you felt the words she spoke against your temple.

“As much as I’d love to stay, I have to go.”

You sighed, unable to hide your disappointment. But what did you expect? You knew what you were getting into last night–you knew this was meant to only be a one-time thing. Besides, you were never one for relationships anyway; all your dalliances were brief and fleeting, ending before they ever got serious. Still, something about Ale pulled you to her, a force that compelled a desire to get to know her. The logical part of you already accepted the fact that you’d probably never see her again after this, but a small part of you wanted to rebel and resist that fate. 

Unsurprisingly, logic won out.

“I shouldn’t keep you, then,” you whispered against her collarbone. Ale shivered and that made you smile: it’s good to know you weren’t the only one still feeling the effects from the previous night.

“You’re not making this easy,” she whined and you laughed. 

“Alright, alright. I guess it’s time for me to let you go.”

There was a moment of silence but not an uncomfortable one. You looked at her, soaked in how her features caught the morning light, how her fair hazel eyes almost appeared like twin golden suns. You were tempted to kiss her lips then but you settled for a chaste one on her cheek instead. “Keep the shirt, to remember me by and… a thank you for last night. It was wonderful.”

“I had a good time, too,” she hummed, a small smile on her lips. 

You returned her smile, and then you gently pushed her away as you took a step back. “Go, Ale.”

Ale stood there for a moment more, took one last look at you, gave you one last smile and she was out of the bedroom. When you heard the front door shut, you sighed again as something akin to regret settled in your bones. Maybe you should’ve at least asked for her number…

“So… did you have fun?” A deep voice filtered through the speaker before you saw the familiar mop of blonde hair and blue eyes on your screen. You rolled your eyes at his dry tone but you smiled nonetheless.

“Oh hi, Derek, I’m doing fine! Thank you for asking!”

Derek gave you an unimpressed look. “Come on. I need details cause that club was exclusive for a reason. So, did you hook up with someone?”

“Dude, stop! That’s so–” you shook your head, a palm over your face. You swore if he wasn’t family you would’ve… you breathed through your nose. “Thank you for the pass and everything but I’m not obligated to tell you shit.”

“Fine, I see how it is. Just ‘cause I’m not there you’re keeping secrets from me now, huh?” He raised an exaggerated eyebrow. 

“Then maybe you should’ve come here with me,” you retorted with faux annoyance. “What’s the point of you owning a house in Barcelona if you’re not going to use it? It’s literally rotting here! The fact that you haven’t even put any personal things in here is criminal!”

“And let this agency burn down to the ground while both of us are away? Pfft, yeah, right!” Derek scoffed. “You know it’s either you or me who can keep watch around here. Besides, the house can wait and you’re using it now, right? So, a win-win in my book.”

He was right but you weren’t about to tell him that so you opted to change the topic. “How are things on your end anyway?”

“Chaotic, as usual. And it doesn’t help we’re now down two–actually, three including you–of our best in the Spot News department.”

At that, you sat up from the couch, alarm and dread filled your body and you brought the phone closer to you. “Oh my god, did something happen?” 

Derek sighed heavily, his demeanour clouded over as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “It was Jones and Gilda–they’re stable, don’t worry!–they got caught in a flash flood on the way to the base at their area. Sick with some minor injuries, Jones more so than Gilda, but thankfully they’re both okay.”

At that, you breathed out in relief. You were well acquainted with the dangers that came with your job but you could never get used to how quickly a situation could get from bad to worse. The mere thought was enough to turn your hands cold. 

“When did this happen?”

“Early morning today in our timezone.”

“Oh, fuck. Derek, why didn’t you call me?!”

“Dude, you’re on leave. And it’s not that I didn’t want to let you know, I just wasn’t about to wake you up in the middle of the night to give you this headache. I’m just about done with the paperworks anyway.” A moment silence, then Derek sighed. “You really chose the worst time to go on leave. You know, I had to send Jersey to start covering Spot.”

“Not my fault you authorised it. I was happy to wait another month, remember? Wait, so if Jersey is doing Spot, who’s doing Sports?”

“I know, I know, don’t remind me ‘cause I’m already regretting it. And no one’s doing it. Spot coverage is more important but–”

“–we get a decent sum from Sports, too,” you finished for him. You did some quick estimation in your head: a month or two without Sports could prove costly, too great of a sum to let go. You hummed, rubbing your chin, but it didn’t take you long to realise that you could help out, your mind immediately fleeted to your conversation with Ale and her suggestion.

“I’ll cover it, Derek.”

“No. You’re supposed to be enjoying your leave–”

“Derek.” You fixed a stern gaze at him, the one you knew that he knew meant your mind was made up. Then you proceeded to reassure him that it was fine, and then you told him about your plan. “Alright, then, I’ll leave the press passes to you.”

“I’ll e-mail them to you once I get ‘em, most likely by tonight your time. I–” 

“Derek, you got to see–” Another voice filtered through the speaker while you watched as Derek turned his head to the side and held his hand up to whoever it was before returning his focus back to you.

“Okay, as much as I’d love to keep talking to you, Robert just brought me a huge stack of paper so I’m going to bail.” 

“Alright. Have fun, you. Talk to you later.”

“Ha ha, very funny. But seriously, thank you.”

“No worries. Kiss Mom for me when you see her.”

“I will. Love you, sis.”

“I love you, too.”

After calling Jones and Gilda to ask about their condition and to send them your well wishes, you decided to spend the rest of your day at the nearby square and the beach. A day as good as this wasn’t meant to be wasted by staying inside so you grabbed several rolls of film and your beloved Leica camera before heading out. 

It was already late afternoon when you found yourself trudging along the shoreline of one of Barcelona’s beaches, appreciating the orange-tinged skies and how the gulls called from above. When you looked to the horizon, you found a mother and her little daughter paddle-boarding just a hundred meters from the shore. You could see almost no details in the shadows of their silhouette but the large setting sun framed them in such a way that you felt to take a shot of the moment. So you adjusted your aperture accordingly, pressed the viewfinder against your brow, lined up your shot, and pressed the shutter.

“I thought you looked familiar… And I was right.”

Your thumb froze over the advance lever when you heard someone speak from somewhere behind you. That voice… could it be?

You whipped your head over your shoulder and found none other than Ale standing there. She was wearing a pair of jean shorts, a white opened blouse that put her toned abs and Nike sports bra on display, loose hair slightly damp, with a leash in one hand that lead to a small, fluffy dog. She also had on a pair of black wraparound sunglasses that she moved to the top of her head, revealing her hazel eyes that captivated your gaze immediately.

You could hardly believe your eyes and your luck; you already accepted her fleeting presence in your life but to meet her again in a city as big as Barcelona without any means of contact… that surely was nothing short of a miracle.

“Ale, hi! I–I never thought I’d see you again,” you said after you finally found your voice but as soon as the words left your mouth, your cheeks warmed. What were you supposed to say to a one night stand in this situation, especially when you clearly wanted it to happen again?

“Me neither. I should thank Nala for dragging me out here.” Ale grinned as she glanced down at her dog by her feet. You crooned as you bent down, then you offered your hand first and only after Nala licked your knuckles did you proceed to pet her.

“Thank you, Nala, for taking your owner for a walk.” At that, a hearty laugh came from Ale which caused Nala, who seemed to be overjoyed by the sound of her owner’s delight, to yip and wag her tail. And just as quickly as she had, she seemed to get bored and began to bound forward, urging Ale to move as well so you stood up, brushed the sand from your palms, and fell in step with her. 

For a moment, the space between you was filled by the sound of the waves, the sound of the shifting sand beneath your feet, and the ever-bustling noise from the city. Then you recalled your conversation with Derek this morning.

“I thought about what you said, about covering women’s football. I’m going to be given a press pass for a match, not sure which one they’ll give me, though. But do you know of any big matches coming up?”

“Really? That’s great! Do you have any particular team in mind or…?”

“Research is still on my to-do list so no, not really. I’m all ears for suggestions, though.”

“I see. Well, there is this match coming up: Real Madrid and Barcelona. Since you don’t know, there’s rivalry between the two teams so any match between them tends to get crowded. You should come watch.” 

“That sounds like a good one. I hope that’s what they’ll get me into. Will you be there?”

“I hope so, too. And yes, I’ll be there.” As she said this, her eyes shone with a glint not dissimilar to what you saw in them the night you met. Her lips tilted to the side, closed but quirked at the corners like she was holding in a laugh. If it weren’t already clear that night, it was now–you were definitely missing something here.

“What?” You asked, confused. What was she not telling you? But at the question, Ale only let out a small giggle, grinning as she did so.

“Nothing, nothing,” she said, shaking her head. You didn’t believe her but you let it slide one more time and the fact that she looked so distracting didn’t help either.

She had her head turned to you, her loose hair framed her face and strands fluttered in the cool, ocean breeze. You had to tilt your head up slightly to meet her eyes and, without any bidding, memories from that night and the morning after filtered through your mind: the way she held you against her, the way you wanted her to stay… maybe you should ask her if she was free tonight.

“–what do you have in mind?”

You blinked. “What?”

Ale threw her head back, letting out another hearty laugh before she looked at you and you saw amusement swimming in her eyes. Then, she continued with a smirk, “you asked if I was free tonight. I said yes. Or… was I not meant to hear that?”

Your ears and cheeks burnt while you internally cursed your slippery tongue.  That was smooth. Real smooth. “Ummm…”

You woke the next morning with a delicious soreness between your thighs, a pleasant reminder of the way Ale ravished you last night. Similar to the first morning after, you heard the rustling of clothes being put on. But before you could fully open your eyes, warmth from Ale’s lips branded the skin on your shoulder. 

“I have to go. See you next time?” Ale murmured softly. You shifted slightly to the side and you saw how the sunlight behind her gilded her hair with an amber halo and made her eyes appear like molten gold. 

Brushing a loose strand behind her ear, you hummed in confirmation and pressed your forehead sleepily against the sharp line of her jaw, closing your eyes as you did so and you whispered, “you know where to find me.”

[the-ninjago-historian]

I just completed four hours of house cleaning. And BOY, do I need a nap!🤣😴

Anyways, have to leaked episode titles for Dragons Rising Season 2 Part 2. :)

Enjoy! And goodnight! :D

[throwawayasoiafaccount]

i still cannot believe that people consider having lovers outside of a political marriage as cheating

a lot can be discussed about how raging misogyny and the patriarchy in westeros has led to unequal standards for women to uphold and suffer from

as highborn women are not allowed the same sexual freedom that highborn men get to experience, and even if these women do have relationships outside of their marriages, they are usually scorned and shunned by society for daring to practice sexual autonomy

it’s unfair, i am very aware of this fact

(that’s why i’ll never understand team green stans)

but george has never ever condemned his characters for finding and experiencing love outside of doing their duty.

never.

we’re not unfeeling machines that lack emotions. we’re humans who are, more often than not, led by our hearts. and grrm does a phenomenal job when creating characters, as they truly feel human.

so yeah, it’s a bit disappointing that people dumb down what is clearly a very complex situation to “cheating” (btw george himself calls rhaegar and elias relationship complex and he’s never implied that they loved each other in a romantic sense).

to reiterate, i am well aware that highborn women and men are held to different standards, however, if you have a problem with characters working through, around, and sometimes failing to overcome the social structures that cause their suffering, then you must have a major issue with george’s exploration of the human heart in conflict with itself.

george’s characters aren’t robots and that’s what makes them interesting. they do things for very human reasons. they’re biased. they’re traumatized. they’re conflicted. but they’re still reaching for a better tomorrow and they’re still trying to find happiness.

so i’ll never consider rhaegar and lyannas relationship as cheating, or something unsightly that should be scorned. for they simply dared to find and grasp love in a society that would rather shackle them to unhappy marriages, which is very commendable.

oh… and do you know what george does criticize?

political marriages lol

he makes it clear that selling women off as broodmares and forcing men into marriages they don’t want is a recipe for disaster.

of course the eventual fallouts of these relationships is super interesting to read about, but you should never ever support the systems in place and the societies that benefit from pushing people/characters into these incredibly unhealthy relationships

so while i find it interesting to read about characters navigating these relationships, i’ll always be the first person to condemn these societies for forcing this fate onto them. i’ll also always be the first person to root for characters who do their best to find happiness outside of their political/arranged marriage

sorry that i don’t condemn a character for finding love outside of a loveless marriage

instead of getting angry at rhaegar and lyanna and being very nonsensical in the main tags about it, how about you turn that anger onto the patriarchy, which is rooted in every single institution and family in westeros, the patriarchy that refuses to allow women to have the same amount of sexual autonomy as men?

(this is why i despise team green :))

[m0th-h]

Fan fiction.

And for those in the back, fan FICTION.

It does not have to follow canon, it does not have to make sense, and it certainly does not have to be read.

If you just like the show and not the ships/fanfics, that's fine! You don't have to participate in that side of the fandom! If there's a ship you really hate or it doesn't make sense to you, that's okay! You don't have to read about it! If there's something in a fic that makes you uncomfortable, that's OKAY!!! YOU DONT HAVE TO READ IT. In fact, you don't even have to see it!

On Ao3, there's this nifty little feature that allows you to exclude tags from your search results! This means that as long as everyone is using the Ao3 tag system correctly, you don't ever have to read or even see a fic you don't like.

Is there a ship that you don't like or understand? Don't partake in it. Block the ship tag and ignore the posts. Hell, block the user! Easy as that, no drama is needed.

Do you think this fic that you just found is disgusting, and the author should be ashamed? How about you close that tab and read something else! Someone else is loving that book and thinks the author should be proud! That book is for them, not you!

[a-witch-in-a-dumpster]

So I've seen people in the fandom do it for their country, I loved so much the idea I did the same (i'm very influencable).

(Based on the lore/maps of the webcomic "Stand Still Stay Silent")

Even if I did know it could not fit the canon, I tried my best to do the more accurate (non-canon) lore for french territory.

I will maybe do a part 2 but not now, I will talk more about the infected and the Basques language.

The Tarasques are the french equivalent of the Trolls, I didn't have the energy to add other pages of information. (one day maybe)

I also wanted to mention the Dahu in the type of infected beast. (Yes there are Dahus, and that's is the best thing to know about infected beast, THERE ARE DAHUS INFECTED BEAST PEOPLE.)

______________________________________________________________

(Also can't spell in english so that's not very well written lol)

(Please note I'm just doing this for fun and it's a very rough/sketchy idea and I didn't take time to well adapt everything or even have a stylise coherence)

[pillow4t]

More headcannons :3

--

★Lùcio doesn't own a normal pair of shoes. All of them are heelys. If he's not in his skates he's barefoot or heelys 🫶🏻

★I think it would be funny if lifeweaver was scared of bugs. He loves them so much and appreciates them more than anything but ask him to hold one? He'd love to! But he starts to freak out (more than) a little "aw look! It's a- ITS ON ME-!"

★Back when Lifeweaver and Symmetra shared a dorm, Niran would constantly forget/not have to energy to brush his hair, putting it off until it was so bad he thought he would have to cut it. Satya sat down and brushed through his hair for 3 hours. He's still so grateful, even if her reminding him to brush his hair every. day. got annoying but he appreciated it.

★Brigitte listens to all types of music. Her playlist goes from Black metal to k-pop then to some Spanish song Sombra told her to listen to. D.va banned her from the aux cord in the car after cannibal corpse played after Ke$ha<3

★Cassidy carries his mom's Rosary with him at all times — he's not a religious person but it was his mom who would wear it everyday and it's nice to have something to remind him of her

★Genji gives sparrow feathers to people he trusts with his whole body and soul. Cassidy carries one in his hat, Kiriko has one in a frame in her room, Mercy has hers tapped on top of her computer. He has a spare one he's been thinking about giving Hanzo but every time he thinks about handing it to him, he starts to get nervous.

★Junkrat didn't tell Roadhog he was making him a trap until he had already made like 50. Junkrat kinda just handed it to him during a fight, Hog threw it, It worked. Rat made 100 more for him

★ Illari made Hanzo a blanket made out of 100% alpaca wool as a birthday gift and expected him to set it to the side and use it a few times. No. This man takes that blanket EVERYWHERE. Overnight mission? He'll bring a bag and that blanket. Genji forced him to movie night? Blanket is going with him.

★ Ashe used to have hair down to the middle of her back, Cassidy loved it so she kept it. Then when Cassidy left for Overwatch she cut it herself in the middle of a 'i hate him' breakdown. He never grew his beard out because she didn't like it, he didn't start actually growing one until a few months in blackwatch. ALSO When Cassidy was still in the deadlock gang he would kiss the mole above Ashe's mouth before he would actually kiss her( I'm so normal about deadlock Cashe I promise )

★D.va and Genji have game nights where they'll play board games instead of playing online. While they do have online gaming days (it's most of the time tbh) but after a stressful week, CandyLand was the way to go<3

[justaz]

lance who has always hidden his insecurities under grandeur and humor. a huge ego paired with an inflated sense of pride. he is someone who is confident and cocky, but he exaggerates it in response to the deep rooted belief that he is not enough, that he is ordinary at best, lackluster at worst. he grew up as the baby in a huge family which came with a lot of coddling, yes, but his achievements had been made time and time again which made them expectations rather than milestones. the first time he truly shone was when he got into the garrison, something no one in his family had done before, something to be celebrated. he worked his ass off at the garrison to be top of his class, to be a fighter pilot, to reach the stars - to be the first of his family to reach space. who could too that? no matter how long he spent studying or training, he still tested into the cargo pilot class. it wasn’t the worst but it wasn’t what he wanted. he fell short by a measly three points. it was infuriating.

lance worked his ass off even more. he wanted to be something, he wanted to be noticed, he wanted to be praised, he wanted to be celebrated. he never made it. there was one student that caught his eye though - keith kogane. a living, breathing legend. he tested at the top of their class. miles above the other students. completely untouchable. despite his reputation, his grand achievements, keith never cared. he was never in the library studying or spending his free time on the flight sims. he rarely made it to class on time. he didn’t care. yet he was the best of the best. iverson gave him a hard time but it was clear to everyone that even iverson admired him and his skill, his talent. even lance admired him. he wanted to be like him, he wanted to be him. he was rejoiced, he was celebrated, he was praised, he was admired and he didn’t even try. lance pushed harder and harder but only ended in burning himself out. he crumbled under the pressure while keith didn’t seem to notice it. lance loved him but also hated him. then he was gone. and lance was a fighter pilot. barely.

iverson, now with one less eye, loathed that. he gave lance scorn and belittlement, compared him to keith at every turn and went on and on about his failings, about how he’d never be keith, about how he didn’t deserve keith’s space in the class. lance hated iverson, lance hated keith, lance hated himself. he just had to try harder. he was more deserving of all of it than keith. he never cared, he didn’t want what he was blessed with. lance fought tooth and nail for it. he deserved it. he rose a bit in the fighter pilot class and kept fighting, iverson kept ridiculing and humiliating, keith’s name remained at the top of the boards. as the year passed, his name overtook name after name until he was below keith, three points behind. almost, almost, almost, almost…

then they were in space. kidnapped by giant, sentient, mechalions. fighting in an intergalactic war. unable to return home. the years of resentment lance held for keith came to surface in close quarters with the man and he relished in every challenge that he won and despised every challenge he lost. he worked his ass off to get better until he could rechallenge keith until he won. he wasn’t sure when their rivalry became tinged with friendship, but he didn’t hate it. he should’ve, but he didn’t. it was keith’s disregard for his own amazement that infuriated lance. he was gifted and never cared for it. he was everything lance wanted and it was like it meant nothing to him. like he would trade it all at the drop of a hat if he could. yet, keith was fun, in an odd way. awkward and funny, a little prickly around the edges but a soft, gooey marshmallow heart under it all. lance knew it. he saw keith tear up at a couple of cute babies of some species on some planet as they played.

then shiro went missing and keith was forced into the role of leader and he very clearly did not want it. again, lance felt a flicker of annoyance. the role of black paladin, the pilot of the black lion, that was something lance had wanted. not at the expense of shiro, not at the expense of anyone, but he could be leader. he could lead the paladins of voltron in the fight against the galran empire. he could be revered on every planet they freed from tyranny, his name would live on forever. no one would overshadow him. yet, now keith stood in the shadow of the black lion, his face pinched and his eyes dark. he had lost his brother twice now and was being forced into leadership, he was now the one to make all the decisions for the team of (mostly) teenagers against the empire that had terrorized the universe for over ten thousand years.

lance stomped on the flicker of annoyance and put it out as he strode forward and stood beside keith. he spoke lowly, gently. he wasn’t sure how, but the right words spilled forth. keith’s shoulders relaxed and his scowl eased to a faint frown. he stepped into his role as leader. he was still as impatient and impulsive, he was quick to anger and often blinded by it. lance was there for it all. he held keith back, became his patience and impulse control. he quelled his anger when he could and talked sense into him when keith was already fired up. in return, keith gave him trust and gave him power. to outsiders, it seemed like it always had since the birth of voltron - the black paladin, the leader, and the red paladin, the right hand. but in all actuality, it was more the black and red paladins, leaders of voltron. the final decision rested with keith, but he never made a choice without lance’s input. lance made the plans and keith approved of them. lance talked at the diplomatic meetings while keith put on a brave face and played nice for a few hours.

then shiro came back and keith stepped down. lance felt as if he had finally found his footing. lance and keith, leaders of voltron, best friends. and now keith was leaving. lance watched keith walk away as he supported hunk and his tears. lance retreated to his own room and found traces of keith in every nook and cranny. hell, the damn castle ship could be traced back to keith in lance’s mind. ever since he stepped foot in the garrison, everything was tied to keith - the school legend, top of the class, best fighter pilot in their generation, the crazy man breaking into a government facility to kidnap legend takashi shirogane, the conspiracy theorist with the odd sounds in the desert, finding the blue lion, ending up in space fighting a war, red paladin of voltron. it was all keith. yet he wasn’t here. lance loved him, but he also hated him. he wasn’t sure how many more times he’d end up feeling that same sentiment.

the team…drifted. hunk and pidge paired off while allura and shiro paired off leaving lance and coran. coran was a nice, funny, odd man that reminded lance of his father back home. coran’s crazy, kooky exterior melted away when it was just them two and lance felt the same happen with him. coran talked of altea before it all, his husband and their son. lance talked of home too, every detail he could remember from earth and his family. lance busied himself with training or helping coran around the castle. he tried with the rest of the team, but things were pretty tense and his loud, jovial nature wasn’t exactly welcome all things considered. he tried to be shiro’s second as he had been keith’s. he offered his input and his plans but they were tossed aside without a moments thought. he was belittled for sticking his nose where it didn’t belong when he tried to speak up at their meetings. he was not shiro’s second, he was keith’s piss poor replacement as he had been at the garrison. he quieted and kept to himself. he stuck to the walls with crossed arms or locked himself on the training deck for hours at a time. shiro was off, a but different but lance couldn’t put his finger on it. the way he looked at them all sometimes was eerie. his eyes were empty and void and unsettling. after being shouted at on the bridge during a meeting,

he really couldn’t keep his thoughts to himself. he thought getting it out in the open would ease the worry off his shoulders and, if it didn’t, then whoever he spoke to could laugh off his worries to properly ease his mind, help him see sense. lance told coran. coran did not laugh. he did not brush off lance’s worries. he all but confirmed them. he said how he had found shiro’s behavior odd and the shouting really sent the point home. shiro before had never yelled, not like that (bar slav but that was understandable). the rest of the team also sought lance out to share their same opinions. lance took it all in stride despite the heavy dread settling over his shoulders. in agreement, the team trailed down to the bay and sat in front of the black lion. instead of the slow, patient meditation where they would ascend into the astral plane, it felt more like they were snatched and hauled up into it. they found shiro there, the real shiro, the dead shiro. they weren’t sure who was on the ship, but it wasn’t their leader. they all remained in the astral plane as they talked over a plan.

lotor considered their line of questioning and shared the witch’s experiments while he was there and gathered that if shiro was anything, he was most likely a clone. there were other options such as shapeshifter or droid disguised as shiro but both were easily disproven as if shiro were a shapeshifter, there would’ve been moments when he tripped up and either didn’t remember something or acted too different from the shiro they knew. if shiro were a droid disguised as shiro, well…their capabilities of such a thing were lacking. the droids the galran empire had were only good for fighting and even then they were pretty lackluster. the witch had an odd fascination with life and death so the chances of shiro being one of her experiments at recreating life were incredibly high.

lance didn’t trust lotor either but he knew they needed all the aid they could get so he bit his tongue and allowed lotor to remain in close cohorts with all of them. they staged a coup and overpowered the shiro on the ship. unable to kill him, they froze him in a pod and kept him locked in the floor of the infirmary. with the loss of her spy, haggar launched an attack on voltron. tens of hundreds of galran ships warped to their position but their appearance was quickly followed by hundreds of thousands of rebel ships and military ships from those in the coalition. the blade managed to send a few ships, though at lance’s poking and prodding, kolivan relayed that keith wouldn’t be there as he hd been out of a mission for the past couple of weeks and hadn’t returned yet. heavier dread settled over lance but he had no choice then to ignore it and fight with the rest of his team against the galran attack.

with a great sense of deja vu, lance found himself locked out of the red lion. he groaned and complained to him as they didn’t have time for this but red didn’t budge. lance spoke to coran through his comms that red wouldn’t let him in and the older man appeared in the bay at frightening speed. they talked it over and red allowed coran to enter and pilot him. as coran stepped into red’s maw, black let out an ear-shattering roar. the deja vu was never ending as lance found himself rushing toward black and taking a seat at the helm. the castle ship was put on autopilot, it kept its shield up as it fired at passing galran ships whilst the rest of the team flew around in their lions taking on ship after ship. as rebel and coalition ships began to fall, the team formed voltron and took out the ships with ease.

it was odd, finally being in charge. finally being recognized. being turned to for guidance with unwavering trust. it was something he had always dreamed of, something he envied keith for, something he truly didn’t want when he finally got it. how could they look to him? how could black choose him? he was just a boy from cuba, one out of a family of seven, twelve counting his sister in law, niece and nephew, and grandma and grandpa. he was a cargo pilot who had no business being in the fighter pilot class. he became a paladin by sheer luck, luck attributed to keith kogane. even now, as black paladin, he only received that position because shiro was out of commission and keith was on a mission for the blade. the moment keith returned, the lion would return to keith and lance would go back to being his second, ignored at best, yelled at at worst. as of now, he was keith’s stand in. he just had to make it until keith returned. problems arose practically ever minute and lance tried to imagine keith and how he would respond before making a decision. he’d stand still as he took in the information, pointer finger and thumb brushing together as he thought it over, and finally respond.

he checked practically every minute of every day for a response from keith or a change in status from kolivan, but neither ever came. keith was still on a mission. he had been for weeks. lance stood on shaky legs as he led the team. he hesitated and was indecisive. he froze up when they turned to him to make a decision. he was not a leader. he wasn’t who they were looking for. they needed keith. he needed keith. lance would spend his time in the bridge, a line ringing endlessly in hopes of keith finally picking up, as he looked over the battle plans and made tweaks and adjustments as he saw fit. allura joined him once and merely watched as he worked. she chuckled to herself suddenly and mentioned how with the clone as their leader, she had forgotten what it was like with keith as their leader. she had forgotten that lance was once their strategist, that he had been part of the duo that made all the decisions for the team.

coran also joined him after allura left. he let lance ramble aloud about the plans until he ran into an issue he couldn’t resolve quite yet. he stood still as he rubbed his thumb and pointer finger together. coran smiled and exhaled sharply. he said softly how he had not seen lance “like this” in quite some time. at lance’s questioning look, coran explained how lance had been so confident and sure of himself when he led with keith. under the clone’s leadership, lance had been shaken and wasn’t sure of himself anymore. the lance of the past few months was quiet and hesitant, unsure and unsteady, whilst the lance who led with keith was confident and self-assured. he made these decisions for the team and didn’t second guess himself once. yes, he thought over his plans from every angle to ensure the team was as safe as could be, but he never doubted himself. coran supposed it was keith’s unwavering faith, loyalty, and trust in lance. keith followed lance’s decisions just as much as the team followed keith’s.

lance watched coran leave after ruffling his hair and slowly turned back to the messy draft of a battle plan. lance’s gaze shifted over to his stilled hand where he had been rubbing his thumb and pointer together since running into the issue. he had been doing the same motion since becoming black paladin. it was oddly familiar. he swore he had seen…keith do it. it was keith’s unique tick that he did when stressed or emotional and trying to compose himself. lance had stolen it. allura and coran’s words echoed in his mind as he thought back to the short period of time with keith as black paladin. lance had felt like he finally found his footing there. he felt seen and heard and appreciated as he and keith led the team together. keith’s trust in his decisions, lance’s ability to match each of keith’s weaknesses to balance the team. here lance was now, leading the team all on his own, and he felt his own weaknesses exposed to the elements at the loss of his samurai.

well, the whole time he had been thinking what would keith do. he had been leading like he still had keith. perhaps that was the problem. he was leading like half of a whole rather than black paladin. lance looked up at the trilling line on the screen of the bridge. keith was on a mission. he was not on the ship. it was lance and his team. lance reached up and ended the ringing line. he had to lead like it. lance watched lotor closely for days but still couldn’t find any issue with him. weeks passed and things sailed smoother than before. lance still froze up in meetings and hesitated before making big decisions, but he stopped looking to his side for keith’s input. just as they fell into the new normal, keith returned. he flew into the castleship with a teleporting black and blue wolf, a tall galran woman that looked suspiciously like him, and (most peculiar) an altean. as well as a growth spurt that came with bulging muscles. not that that was important. what was important was that keith finally gave lance the reason why lotor was so hard to trust.

in the hours waiting for lotor and allura to return, lance lead keith to the infirmary to see the still clone body and retold everything that had happened while he was gone. keith’s face cycled through a few emotions but he quickly forced them back behind a mask of indifference and he nodded. the two of the returned to the bridge to wait for lotor to return to confront him. allura was heartbroken and enraged at the news and had taken to fighting lotor herself. outnumbered and surrounded, lotor surrendered and allowed himself to be taken to the dungeons of the castle. it was unnerving that the castle had dungeons and lance never knew despite his wanderings over the years, but he let it go. lotor was taken into the belly of the castle in chains while keith mourned his brother once more. maybe it was the news of her people that had survived only to be farmed for experiments that gave her the idea, but allura thought of a way to bring shiro, their shiro, back.

the clone’s body was taken down to the bay where allura pressed her hands to the black lion. she began to glow and she walked toward the limp body and placed her hands to it’s chest and head. the light around her body flowed down her arms and hands and into the body on the table. after a few seconds, the body took a breath and cracked open it’s eyes. lively eyes. loving, kind, and caring eyes. shiro’s eyes. shiro was put back in the infirmary as he got used to being alive again. coran stepped back from the red lion and turned the mantle back over to lance without complaint. lance did the same with the black lion to keith. instead of it feeling bitter, lance felt more at peace. being a nobody was horrible, unbearable, but being the somebody that everyone turned to for help and guidance was not very fun either. he was content to be second in command, right hand man, three points behind keith. only, keith took back the black lion but didn’t let lance fall back into the shadows. they fell back into the same dynamic they had before, two halves of one whole, two leaders that complimented each other, that met one another’s weakness with their strengths, that balanced each other, that made a damn good team.

[latenitewaffles]

OK Agent 32 Side Order drabble GO.

Agent 8 (or Shelly, as they had been told by their close friend, Matt- though, Pearl and Marina still called them Eight.) had become quite accustomed to climbing the Tower of Order at this point. Nearly halfway through all the Pallettes, the difficulty never even surpassed that of Girl Power Station, which still gave them stress dreams on occasion. They had hoped those Octolings had gotten free, but they pushed that thought to the back of their mind for now. There were other things to worry about.

Like finishing Agent 4's Pallette.

"Eight, are you with us?"

Marina's voice shook Shelly back to reality- or as close to reality as one can get in the Memverse.

"Oh, uh... yeah, Marina. I'm fine."

A flash of pink flooded Shelly's eye's- Pearl had suddenly flew right up into their face to get her battle buddy's attention.

"You better be! We're coming up on a boss floor! Yo, Rina! What floor's up next?" The drone yelled excitedly.

"Um... intensifying_harmony.floor! So you're going against the Parallel Canon next!"

Shelly froze. That boss. The one they had extreme suspicions about. The one that strangely resembled their boyfriend.

"Eight? Hello?"

"I'm fine! Let's go!"

"Ahem."

Acht's sudden noise made the group turn to them, as if they had forgotten that they were there in the first place.

"... Am I really that quiet? Whatever. Eight, if you're not feeling up to it, we can go back to the foyer or Marina can switch the boss to the Asynchronous Rondo, it's no problem."

Shelly shook their head. It's not like they had told their companions about their suspicions yet, and they didn't want them to worry... though from the looks on the other's faces, they already were.

"Seriously, it's fine. Come on Pearl, let's go beat these guys!"

"That's what I like to hear! Team Eight rides again!!"

"Well then, stay safe. Marina and I will be here keeping the elevator warm."

The elevator door opened up to the balcony, and Shelly rushed to the cage as quickly as possible. They could see the Parallel Canon in the distance, each of them getting ready to take them on. As soon as they landed, the first wave started- the pair of gray helmeted "Inklings" wasted no time trying to take down their Octoling adversary, but failed miserably as always. The second wave fared no better, each of them going down quickly thanks to the many power chips in Shelly's current Pallette. Though, strangely... the masked Inkling hadn't dropped yet. Odd, it usually comes in the second wave...

"EIGHT, WATCH IT!"

Pearl's shout managed to snap Shelly out of their trance, and just in time, too- they were almost the victim of a Triple-Splashdown. Luckily, they were able to dodge roll away, and Pearl took the Inkling down with an Inkstrike. The next 3 were splatted just as easily... which left the final one. This time, Shelly would get to actually have a look at this Inkling to see if their suspicions were true. It rode the cage and immediately used a Triple-Splashdown, and as the ink settled... Shelly got a good look at him. They'd recognize that dumb spikey hair from anywhere- it was him. Agent 4.

Archie.

Their heart jumped, and not in a good way. They had hoped that Archie had managed to stay out of this, but somehow he was sucked in too, now mindlessly serving as defense for Smollusk just as Marina was before.

"Arch-"

Splat.

He had gotten the jump on them. One life down.

"Eight?! What the heck was that?! Don't tell me you froze!" Pearl said, getting right back into Shelly's face again.

"I... that's... that Inkling, it's... Four."

"Wait. Your roommate? The one who's Pallette you're running right now?"

"Well... we're more than roommates, but..."

"YOU'RE DATING SOMEONE?!"

"That's not important right now, Pearl! Can you just help me free him like we freed Marina?"

"Of course! But we're gonna have a conversation about this later, y'hear?"

"Yeah, I know."

The ensuing fight took up the rest of Shelly's lives. Most of them were wasted trying to reason with the greyscaled Inkling, but now they had a plan. Pearl set her Killer Wail to a non-lethal level, and as soon as Archie's body was just destabilized enough, Shelly would rush in and rip the mask right off his face- it sounded just stupid enough to work. When the Killer Wail ended and the Inkling was practically melting apart, Shelly ambushed him from behind, grabbing the mask from the chin and pulling as hard as possible. Archie screamed in pain- though digitalized through a filter, Shelly knew it was him. The dense, chaotic, lovable squid they loved dearly.

"Sorry, Archie, but this is hurting me way more than it's hurting you!"

A few more tugs, and Shelly heard a click- they hoped it was something good, but the hope was momentarily dashed when Archie threw them off of him.

"What the shell are you doing, Shelly?!"

He actually spoke. Though garbled, that was him, his real self.

"Archie! It's me, don't panic, let me help!"

"Y-you're hurting me! I can do it on my own!"

"Calm down, please! Just let me get the mask off of your face!"

Archie didn't let them. He just kept pulling, and each time, the color returned to his skin and tentacles, but...

"I-I can’t... I can't get it off!! H-Help!!"

Shelly walked back over to him, and kneeled down. There were tears pouring from the red eye sockets of the mask- it was truly stuck. He tried to pull it more, but Shelly stopped him.

"Don't hurt hurt yourself, Archie. It's going to be alright."

They kissed him on the forehead of the metal mask, and it finally fell off. His colors were back to normal, and the greyscaling had been undone. The Tower seemed to count that as a victory, and on the platform behind them, the locker key formed.

But that could wait. Despite Pearl's protests, Shelly comforted Archie in their arms, both soaked head to toe in ink.

It was surprisingly nice.

"Thanks..."

"You're welcome."

"Don't let me go."

"I won't."

[midchelle]

hello are we still doing uquizes? yes? okay here's mine:

[alliumbunny]

My biggest pet peeve in 2012 tmnt is that one scene where Mikey and Raph hug and they get all weird and like "wow what was that" "I think that was a hug" "ew let's never do that again" (NOT ACTUALLY LIKE THAT BUT I'M PARAPHRASING!!!)

THESE MENACES SO VERY OBVIOUSLY HUG ALL THE TIME!!!!!!!!!! THEY ARE SIBLINGS AND CLOSE ONES AT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!! I'VE SEEN THEM HUG OTHER TIMES!!!

I SWEAR I HAVE!!! DO NOT TELL ME I HAVEN'T, I WILL CRY /HJ /LH

MIKEY'S LOVE LANGAUGE IS SO CLOSE TO PHYSICAL TOUCH, IF NOT LITERALLY IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I ALSO THINK HE'S VERY ACTS OF SERVICE CODED BUT WERE NOT TALKING ABOUT THAT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!

MY BOY(Michangelo of the TMNT Variety) IS SUCH A HUGGER AND RAPH SO TOTALLY INDLUGES(I'M PRETTY SURE THAT'S THE RIGHT WORD BUT IDK) HIM BECAUSE THEY ARE BROTHERS AND LOVE EACHOTHER AND IF ANYONE TELLS ME OTHERWISE I WILL SCREAM AT THEM /LH /HJ(I MIGHT IF I'M FEELING SILLY!)

RAPH MAY NOT BE A HUGGER MOST TIMES BUT YOU CAN'T TELL ME THAT BOY DOESN'T LOVE HIS BROTHERS!!!!!!!! YOU FUCKS!!!!!!!! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!

[thesunisatangerine]

against all odds (to wait for you is all i can do) – part ten

alexia putellas x photojournalist!reader

warnings: none (im pretty sure)

(a/n in the tags) [parts: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve]

word count: 5.8k

The melodic chirping of birds in time with the gentle beat of Alexia’s heart roused you, your back delightfully warm, and for what seemed to be a long time you felt well-rested–felt as if the leaded weight that made its home in your bones finally melted away because, truly, you’d forgotten the lightness of being one felt upon waking from a night’s sleep or, even more so, the lightness one felt when waking in the sheltering arms of a lover. So you sighed, content and at peace, as you breathed Alexia in when you nestled further into the safety of her neck where faint wintergreen and her delicate, earthly scent lived, familiar and evermore comforting. 

When you finally drew your eyes open, the world came to focus and revealed, in its center, Alexia already awake, her head propped on her arm with her honey eyes, just like molten gold in the resplendent glow of the morning sun, lidded as she gazed at you with a lazy smile, soft and relaxed but it ignited you with a gentle flame all the same, whose radiance only intensified upon meeting your eyes. 

“Good morning.” Alexia greeted you and it struck you just how much you missed the sound of her voice in the morning, low and soft with just the right amount of rasp that never failed to incite the desire to kiss her right then.

“Good morning.” You replied in the same tone, cheeks warming to a gentle simmer in the face of your lover’s tender demeanour. She brushed the back of her fingers on your cheek while a silence filled the space between your eyes, intimate, as you soaked each other in. But when you could no longer sustain the weight from her gaze–when you chest had filled twice over that it felt in danger of bursting from the sheer joy of being looked upon by such earnest affection–you whispered, “you’re staring.”

Alexia tucked your hair behind your ear before she countered in a voice so tender your heart ached.

“And you’re beautiful.”

No words could translate the gravity of what you felt in that moment, so you spoke the only language that could ever come close to conveying it: you cupped her jaw and caught her lips between yours, seared the missed ‘good morning’s’ and the lost ‘hello, how are you’s’ into the kiss, the pace languid but sweet, savouring the way her lips parted in this silent conversation–relishing the way Alexia tasted like summer on your tongue.

Alexia tugged you closer, and closer still but still not close enough, with a gentle pressure from her hand against the small of your back, the other now over the nape of your neck.

But the conversation was cut short, too short, when a small gasp reached your ear, electrifying you in an unpleasant way your eyes flung wide open, darting immediately to the direction of the sound to find Elisa standing at the last step of the stairs, her hair ruffled from sleep, her loose shirt creased and draped slightly to the side, mouth wide open in disbelief as she gawked at the sight of the two of you.

And what a sight the two of you must have been. 

In your haste to extricate yourself from Alexia, you ended up flopping down against the tiled floor, the carpet doing little to cushion your fall, but you recovered quickly and now you stood there not quite knowing what to do with your arms or what to even say. Alexia, on the other hand, remained half on her back and half sitting up, her weight against an elbow, the other arm frozen outstretched towards you, a clear attempt to save you from when you fell down. If the situation had been different, you probably would’ve laughed especially at Alexia’s expression: her face contorted in part mortification and part worry, brows upturned, eyes agape, and lips partially opened–if only you weren’t too flustered yourself to do so. 

Alexia got her bearing faster than you, though–damn her and her athletic condition–because she, too, now stood from the couch (and did so with a lot more grace than you did). She cleared her throat, fumbled with her hands as it looked like she tried to stick her hands in her jacket pockets before it dawned on her that it remained still on the coffee table, so she resorted in putting them in her jean pockets instead. 

“Good morning, Elisa. How are you?” Alexia said in English and her voice wavered at the end, the question infused with a guilty inflection. 

With bated breath, you waited for your daughter’s reaction as trepidation filled you, which only worsened when Elisa’s eyes darted at you, then to Alexia, then back to you again. Numerous scenarios fleeted through your mind and out of all the images your mind conjured, what happened next was not one them: you didn’t expect the way with which Elisa’s surprise morphed into smug delight, her once opened mouth now curved into a coy smile, not dissimilar to a cat’s, that only served to accentuate the mischievous gleam in her eyes.

“Are you guys dating?” Each word deliberately drawled out as Elisa posed them, punctuated by a teasing cadence that set your ears and cheeks aflame. The question, thankfully, brought you back to yourself because only you could save you and Alexia from this situation. 

“Okay, I think I need to have a conversation with you so up you go, young lady, back to your room for now.” You said as you approached Elisa who you guided towards the stairs with a gentle hand on her back but not before you placed a good morning kiss on the crown of her head. Elisa whined, but she heeded your words nonetheless, although she did sneak a wave and a cheeky thumbs up to Alexia on the way up, leaving you with an amused smile on your lips at her antics as you thought fondly, shaking your head, ‘Oh my god, this child.’ 

When Elisa was finally out of sight and you heard her bedroom door shut, you let out the breath you were holding. That really could have been a disaster, and when you looked over your shoulder, you found the same thought written in Alexia’s face. You dragged your feet back to where Alexia stood who, as soon as you got close enough, was quick to pull you back into her gentle arms. With your cheek pressed against her collarbone, her arms loose around your waist, and her chin resting on your head, you were grounded back to the moment, your muscles relaxing as apprehension began to leave you. 

“That was mortifying.”

Alexia let out an airy laugh, the remnant of her nervousness still apparent. “I know. At least we didn’t do it last night.”

“Alexia,” you groaned as your cheeks burnt anew, “please, don’t–I don’t even want to imagine that right now.”

Melodic laughter filled your ears again before it tapered off which, once again, left you two blanketed in the subtle refrain of the waking world and the warmth of the sunlight that streamed through the window. You didn’t know which of you moved first but in the next moment, you found the both of you swaying to a gentle rhythm as you held each other. 

“So, what now?” Alexia asked, breaking the silence.

“I… I don’t know.” You answered truthfully. Sure, the both of you agreed to take everything slow, but where to even start? When intimacy and familiarity were already there, strong and incessant in their pull, how could torn lovers begin to mend the fragments–to keep everything tentative and slow? Where should the lines be drawn, the boundaries set, when a profound desire that transcended physical affection already made its home in your heart, a yearning that constantly craved for not only Alexia’s company but also her thoughts? Because with Alexia, you wanted–and would always–want more.

“I think, for now, I need to talk to Elisa about this–about us.” Sighing, you continued, “what do I even tell her?”

“Well, she seems to approve.” At that, the both of you chuckled, then Alexia spoke again, serious but her tone remained light when she did. “Tell her whatever you’re comfortable with. Slow, remember? No labels for now, it’s just you and me.”

She placed a kiss against your ear and you hummed, nuzzling her neck in gratitude.

Another pause. 

“I think I should go.” 

Hard as you tried, you couldn’t hide your disappointment at what Alexia just said even though it was probably the best thing to do right now. There were much you needed to talk to Elisa about alone: her nightmares and her therapy, and now this. The only thing that eased your heart was the fact that Alexia seemed as reluctant to go, too, with the way her hold on you tightened and you responded to her touch by falling further into her, clutching the fabric of her shirt in an attempt to let her know you’d rather she stayed.

“I know. Me, too,” Alexia sighed seeming to understand what you were feeling as she kissed your temple. “How about this? If you and Elisa are feeling up for it, I could take you some place tomorrow? I did tell you before that I’d show you around.”

At the reminder, the memory fleeted through your mind and a sense of melancholy filled you but you swallowed it down before it could take root. Then you hummed in agreement, “I’ll ask Elisa about it. What’s on for you today?”

“Apart from waiting until tomorrow comes?” Alexia joked which made you giggle. “I’ll probably visit La Masia, check with Josep for next week’s schedule, then head home or visit Mamá and the family.”  

“That sounds fun.” You said as you began to kiss her, knowing that your time together for the day would end any second now. As you punctuated each word with a kiss, you continued, “alright, I should let you go now, then.”

The rumble from Alexia’s chuckle radiated beneath your palm on her chest as she whined, “you’re making it really difficult to leave.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop now,” you giggled and just as you began to pull away, Alexia cradled the nape of your neck and sealed your lips together again for a deeper kiss. Then she pulled away but not before dragging down your lower lip with her thumb as she untwined herself from you and gave you a look that made you burn all over.

“Call me later?”

You nodded.

Alexia grabbed her leather jacket, gave you a smile and one last peck on your cheek, before she strode out of the door. 

The feeling of loss that arrived upon her departure did not go unnoticed by you but before it could settle in your heart, you made your way to Elisa’s bedroom. As soon as you entered though, Elisa shot you a question without any preamble, practically buzzing in her excitement. 

“Mom, why didn’t you tell me you’re dating Alexia?” 

Your cheeks burnt at Elisa’s bluntness.

“Before we get to that, ladybug, I need to talk with you about something first.” You said as you set yourself down next to her on the bed. Elisa regarded you with a look that said she already knew what you were going to talk with her about. You wrapped an arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. “I’m worried about your nightmares and your therapy. Do you think we need to switch to a different therapist?”

Elisa gnawed on her lower lip before she spoke in a soft voice. “I like my current one. She’s cool and she makes it easy for me to talk about what happened. But I can take more sessions if you want me to.”

“Do you think you need more sessions?” You looked at Elisa pointedly, emphasising the fact that the choice was hers to make. “All I want is what’s best for you and your wellbeing, Elisa. I’m not trying to make you do anything, especially if you know yourself you don’t need them, but I also can’t just stand by and watch so I’m just here to tell you that there are options. If you need more sessions, we can do it. If you want to change therapists, we’ll both find you a new one. As long as it’s going to help you get through this, we can do it.” 

“I’m not sure… Can I–” You caught her eye again and you raised your brows at her chosen word, and you watched as Elisa nodded, understanding what you meant, before she began again, “I will talk to my therapist about it and see if I do.” 

You beamed at her, proud as you squeezed her shoulder again. She smiled back.

“So, what do you think is causing this spike in nightmares?” 

“I… I don’t know. I think I’m just nervous? Also, maybe too excited?” Then Elisa added with a small laugh, “or both? I don’t really know.”

“About what, ladybug?”

“Going back to the Academy.”

At this information, you couldn’t help but frown, confused. “Is something happening in the Academy?”

Concern must have been too apparent in your tone because Elisa quickly looked at you and said as she waved her hands in reassurance, “it’s nothing bad, Mom, don’t worry! It’s just, Coach told us there are scouts coming some time around the end of the year and I’m… I really want to play for Barça, Mom.”

You understood her apprehension but her answer didn’t tell you why her shoulders looked like they’d taken on an invisible weight again with the way her spine curved inwards, almost dejected. 

“That’s a really big opportunity, ladybug, so I understand that pressure is there for you to perform your best. Is it the pressure that’s making you think about what happened?”

Elisa shrugged, quirking her lips to the side in an unsure manner. A moment later though, she nodded and admitted in a small voice. “I just don’t want to let them down. I don’t want to let you down.”

“Elisa,” you took her hand in yours.  “Never, never. If your parents were here, they would tell you how proud they are of how far you’ve come already. You’re so strong, ladybug, and you don’t even know how much. And if you happen to fall down, we’ll be here to support you until you’re ready to stand back up again. Just know that whatever happens, you will always be enough. Always, Elisa. ”

Elisa leant her head against your shoulder then she turned her head and gazed at you with wide eyes. “You really think I can make it?” 

“I believe in you, ladybug. Do you?” You pinched her arm playfully which earned you a giggle from her. When she looked back up at you and you saw the determined gleam in her eye, the worry in you was put to rest. 

“Yes.” 

At that, you couldn’t help the warmth that surged through you and you hugged her. “There you go. I’m so proud of you, ladybug.” 

After a moment of silence, Elisa asked in a teasing tone, “so… Alexia, huh, Mom?” 

Your cheeks warmed. “What about her?” 

“Are you together?”

“It’s… complicated right now, ladybug. We’re working on it.”

“Was that why you always looked sad whenever we talked about her? Before now?” You raised your brows in surprise. You’d always tried your hardest to school your features whenever Alexia was brought up because you didn’t want Elisa to worry but you didn’t think that you were that transparent. 

“Did I really?”

“Yeah. I don’t know how to explain it but whenever you tried to smile, it didn’t quite reach your eyes.”

“Oh.” Pause. “I… I didn’t know. I’m sorry.”

Elisa shook her head. “There’s nothing to be sorry for, Mom. And it’s different now. Now you look happy.”

“I am.” You admitted with a small smile. “How… how do you feel about us, though?”

“I’m happy that you’re happy, Mom. It’s going to take awhile to get used to the Alexia Putellas being around but I’ll be fine. And as long as she treats you well, I’m alright.”

Your chest expanded at her words. “Thank you, ladybug, that… that means a lot.”

Elisa hugged you then and you hugged her back. 

“Speaking of, Alexia offered to take us around the city tomorrow. What do you say?”

At that, Elisa practically jumped up, unable to control her excitement and you laughed. 

True to her words, Alexia pulled up in her car the next day a couple of hours before noon. Alexia looked comfy in her white sneakers, ankle length socks, shorts, an oversized t-shirt, and a baseball cap, and upon opening the door for her, she took you in her arms and kissed you. Her eagerness amused you and you laughed against her lips but you tangled your fingers in her hair to deepen the kiss anyway. 

“I missed you.” Alexia spoke between kisses.

“It’s only been a day,” you smiled into the kiss, charmed. “And I missed you, too.”

Time slipped you as you lost yourself in Alexia’s arms and lips, and you didn’t know how long the both of you were there by the open door, but it was apparently long enough that Elisa needed to interrupt you two. A terse cough made you pull away and, turning to look at Elisa who was standing just beneath the archway that lead to the living room, offered your daughter an apologetic smile. Elisa only stood there with her arms crossed, clearly unimpressed with the way her brows were creased. 

“Hola, Elisa.” Alexia said with a shy wave which drew your attention back to her and you bit your lip at the state of her face. You reached out to wipe away the faint smudge of your lipstick on the corner of her lips and, upon realising what you’d done, Alexia quirked her brows up as she smiled at you, sheepish. 

“Hi, Alexia.” A pause. “Wait, should I be calling you Aunt Alexia now?” 

Alexia opened her mouth then closed it, seeming to be completely disarmed by the question. And when she looked at you with plea in her wide eyes asking you silently how she should answer it, you knew just how much the question definitely caught her off guard.

“Uh, if you want to.” Her words lilted with so much uncertainty it sounded more like a question than a statement. 

Then Elisa grinned at the both of you, practically beaming. “I’m just messing with you, Alexia.” 

She then continued to skip between you two, bounding through the door and down the porch stairs, and you held your laughter in as Alexia looked after her with a bewildered gaze, mouth agape. Once Elisa got to where Alexia’s car was parked, she started to wave the two of you over. 

“She’s… she’s very funny.” Alexia laughed nervously, eyes still fixed at Elisa. Then she whispered conspiratorially, pointing to Elisa for good measure. “Are you sure she’s the same kid I met at the Olympics?”

“Yes.” You chuckled as you locked the door and began descending down the stairs. “She’s only like this when she feels comfortable around people. So, do you know what that means?”

Alexia shook her head.

You smiled at her, cupping her cheek before you pressed a light kiss on the other. “It means she likes you.” 

At that, Alexia smiled back at you with lightness in her eyes before she grabbed your hand, intertwined her fingers with yours, and kissed the back of it. And the gesture warmed you more than Barcelona’s summer sun ever could.

Then, once the three of you were in Alexia’s car, you asked, “so, what do you have planned for us today?”

Alexia adjusted her rearview mirror to look at Elisa at the back seat, smiling. “First of, who’s hungry?”

After a delicious–and a quite scenic–brunch at a restaurant located by one of Barcelona’s waterfronts, the three of you took a short walk down a nearby landing connected to the port. By this time, the sun had already reached its peak, and with the vacant sky and the high tide, the view was one someone would expect to have come out of a film; the blue tinge of both the heavens and the sea was so vivid that you knew your camera would have trouble capturing the essence of it. Image after image, you captured your surroundings and as the three of you walked on, rolls of film were exposed to the light of Elisa and Alexia, and these images, you knew, you would cherish forever. 

At one point during the walk, Alexia asked you to teach her how to work your camera, and so you did. With Elisa between you looking over at the sea, you guided Alexia’s fingers over the camera and taught her how to hold it properly, before you told her about the rest. As soon as she got it, she slung your camera around her neck and immediately started taking photos of you and Elisa. You laughed when she held the camera at arm’s length in an attempt to take a selfie of the three of you, adjusting it as best as she could to get the right angle before she set the timer. You told her as all of you returned to her car that you’d send her the fruit of her labour the moment you developed the negatives. 

About half an hour later after hitting the road again, the three of you ended up at the second stop for the day: Camp Nou’s Barça store–much to Elisa’s delight. When Alexia parked the car at a less crowded spot and began to take her seatbelt off, you fixed Alexia with a reluctant gaze, speaking in Spanish so Elisa wouldn’t understand.

“Is it really wise for you to just march in the store? You’re the Alexia Putellas, after all, there’s no way no one would notice.” 

In response, Alexia held a finger up to indicate you should wait and shifted so she could grab the hoodie that was hanging over the back of her seat. She put it on, zipped it up and pulled the hood down over her cap, then she put on a face mask and her sunglasses, her light brown hair spilling out to frame her face.

“Voila!” Alexia waved her open hands. “What do you think?” 

You looked her up and down. All of her tattoos were covered but even with her attire and her face concealed, you could still recognise her–maybe you could chalk that up to you intimate familiarity with Alexia’s being but still. So you said as you schooled your features, your voice monotonous. “Wow. You really look like a whole new person.”  

Alexia threw her head back, laughing. Then, “we’ll treat it as an experiment and see if they will.”

“That’s very modest of you,” you countered, tone still dry. 

“Thank you,” she retorted in a saccharine tone while she flipped her hair over her shoulder, and that, in turn, made you laugh. 

So then it was decided that you and Elisa would also wear face masks as all of you went on ahead in your quest to infiltrate–as per Alexia’s words–the store. Much to your surprise, Alexia’s disguise worked although she did draw some unwarranted glances, ranging from suspicion to pure amusement, due to the nature of her getup. And to your chagrin, once the three of you got back to the car with your bags of merch, Alexia smirked at you, smugness all too evident in the curve of her lips. 

After that, Alexia took all of you for a drive up a mountainside with the windows rolled down that let the fresh, summer breeze rush inside. With the wind in her hair, she began to sing along with you and Elisa to the music playing on the radio, nodding her head to the beat of the music. At the end of the ascent, Alexia parked the car at your third stop, which turned out to be the Tibidabo Amusement Park.

You knew this place was pretty high up, but the moment you stepped out of the car, even from the parking lot, the view hit you: it was incredible. The city of Barcelona stretched out far into the distance, expansive and seemingly never-ending, and you could just see the strip of blue that bordered the ports, and the colours of the city’s structures were made ever-vibrant by the radiance of the sun. The view pulled you towards the edge of the parking lot, where you put the viewfinder to your eye to capture it.

“The view is stunning, isn’t it?” Came Alexia’s voice from beside you.

“Yeah…” you said, breathless, dragging you eyes from the cityscape to Alexia and as you did the remainder of your breath was completely taken away, cheeks warming when you found Alexia gazing at you, her smile as tender as her eyes, while her loose brown hair fluttered to the breeze which added to the softness of her demeanour. The urge to kiss her then became too much so before you fall into temptation, you closed the distance and simply rested your head against her strong shoulder, an arm around Elisa’s shoulder when she stepped into the space beside you.

Soon, you began a short trek upwards to get to the entrance, and if the view from the parking lot took your breath away, it was nothing compared to what you found at the top: from the regal immensity of the structure of the Temple of the Sacred Heart of Jesus that greeted you, to the Torre de las Aguas de Dos Ríos that stood proud just behind the Temple, to the perspective that overlooked the other side of Barcelona. After another round of picture-taking, the three of you finally entered the park.

The day went by as the three of you amused yourselves with the park's attractions. And since you'd all forgone wearing masks, Alexia was, as expected, recognised by people and was stopped more than a handful of times for photos and signatures during different points of your excursion. And you watched with Elisa on the sidelines, appreciating the way Alexia interacted with her supporters, and smiled at her with encouragement and reassurance whenever she looked at you two with an apologetic gleam in her eyes.

By the time the three of you left the park, the sun had begun to set.

It was another drive around the mountain side that lead you to the last stop for the day: Mirador d’Horta. Alexia parked the car in such a way that the trunk faced the cliffside before she urged the two of you to step out and you gasped. 

You’d seen some magnificent scenes today, but this one was definitely your favorite.

There you stood, taking in the way the lights of the city burned like embers embedded in the earth. There was something about witnessing the city at night that never failed to make you feel connected, elevated, when you see the million tangible proofs of existence: under each light was a person, a family—lovers—all in their own worlds at their corner of this world you shared with them. And in your corner, in the opened trunk of Alexia’s car, was your world right beside you, and there was nowhere else you’d rather be. The three of you sat there in silence, Elisa in the middle of you and Alexia gazing over the city lights.

It wasn’t long until the day finally took its toll on Elisa, and she ended up settling her head on your lap and dozing off into slumber. You smiled down at her, brushing back her hair behind her ear as you watched her breathe deeply, feeling relieved when you noticed the peaceful smile on her lips.

“So her battery does run out. Sometimes, I forget just how much energy kids have.” The pure awe in Alexia’s voice made you let out a quiet laugh.

“It has its way of catching you off guard.” You shook your head fondly before you met Alexia’s eyes and teased, “I can’t believe she tired you out; aren’t you supposed to be the athletic one?”

“Hey! I’m only human; thank you very much. And what’s a thirty-year-old compared to a twelve-year-old?" Alexia raised an eyebrow in challenge.

“Touché. Ah, to feel young and full of energy again.”

Alexia cringed before she laughed out. “Please, stop. You’re making me feel old.”

“I’m making us feel old.”

The both of you chuckled, then took a momentary pause. You turned to Alexia and asked, "Did you run your parents ragged as a kid?”

The inner corners of her brows lifted—it was subtle, but you were familiar enough with the intricacies of her demeanour that you caught it—exposing more of her eyes, which looked pensive in the dim light, her lips pressed in a melancholic line before she smiled, wistful.

“Oh, yeah, but I’d like to think I wasn’t a menace. It’s just—you know, when you get so focused on something that you forget the time?"

You nodded. She continued.

“When I was much younger, there were times I was so intent on winning that I’d forget about dinner. So, one of them would look for me around the streets or the square. But after I got into Sabadell, my energy finally found the right outlet, and most days I’d gone home tired. Papá–” Alexia bit her lip, her eyes glazing over for a moment as she receded somewhere—a tender memory—then she shook her head. You watched the way her throat moved as she swallowed before she continued, voice raspy and quiet, “He, uh, he’d always exclaim, ‘She’s finally tamed!’ whenever I’d slump down on the couch after a practice. It was ridiculous, but it never failed to cheer me up.”

You grabbed her hand and squeezed it, expressing silent gratitude for the memory she imparted, as you smiled at the image of young Alexia with red cheeks in a sweat-soaked shirt, hair matted to her face, being chased and dragged back home to have dinner.

“No, I can’t imagine you being a menace. Mischievous, yes, and probably hot-headed, but never a menace.”

She laughed, winking at you. “Yeah, hot-headed is probably what people who knew me then would say about me. And I can’t imagine you being a menace, either.”

You raised your brow at her, smiling slyly. “Are you sure about that?”

Alexia opened her mouth as if to reassert her claim, but you saw the way her confidence wavered as she regarded you. Then she closed her mouth, now looking more unsure.

“Wait, are you being serious right now?”

You allowed her confusion to linger for another moment before you finally broke your character. “No, I wasn’t a menace, but you really should’ve seen the look on your face.”

Alexia squinted at you and muttered just loud enough for you to hear, her tone dry. “Are you sure about that?”

“Hey!” You yelled quietly, giving her shoulder a playful nudge but being careful not to accidentally jostle Elisa awake before you took her hand again. You intertwined your fingers together and pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, meeting her eyes. Then you took a moment to soak her in.

“Thank you, Alexia, for today. You don’t know how much this means to Elisa... how it means to me.”

Alexia squeezed your hand, smiling softly.

“I’m glad you both enjoyed it.” Alexia squeezed your hand as she regarded Elisa with a soft eye. Then a sincere smile lingered on her lips as she caught your gaze and said, “I think I needed something like today more than I realised. It feels good to be spending time with you again.”

Warmth bloomed in your chest, clearly understanding what Alexia meant.

“I know the feeling,” you whispered. And I missed you, too.”

With her other hand, Alexia reached out over the space between you and brushed her thumb over your cheek, tucking a strand of loose hair behind your ear as she smiled at you with her eyes and her lips. With the city lights behind her, the soft glow of the car light bathing her features in its golden glow, and the summer breeze playing with the soft strands of her hair, Alexia looked so tenderly human, the embodiment of warmth and all that the word entailed, gentle and, oh, so soft.

The two of you sat in silence, just soaking each other in, until a ping from Alexia’s phone interrupted the moment. Alexia looked down, read it, and then locked the screen with a sigh. When she met your eyes, hers were apologetic. You smiled in understanding.

“Time to go?”

“Yes.” Alexia sighed as she stood up and tucked her phone back into her pocket. “It was Josep. He reminded me I have a full day tomorrow.”

You nodded. You gently roused Elisa, watched her drag her feet to the back seat, and nearly chuckled when she fell right back to sleep after putting her seatbelt on and closing the door. You turned to Alexia, and as soon as she closed the trunk, you cradled her jaws in your hands and pulled her down for a kiss. Immediately, Alexia wrapped her arms around your waist, pulling you closer to her.

“I wanted to do that all day.” You whispered against her lips.

Alexia gasped when you nipped at her lower lip before she buried her fingers in your hair, deepening the kiss. “You have no idea.”

On the way back to Derek's house, Alexia kept one hand on your thigh. And with the radio playing softly as the car passed under a tunnel with lights overhead, it felt like you were in a movie.

After Elisa had gone back inside the house after thanking Alexia for the day and bidding her farewell for the night, you kissed Alexia’s cheek in gratitude. Then her lips.

With her forehead resting against yours, she whispered, “I’ll see you Tuesday?”

“Yeah.” You brushed your nose against hers before you kissed her again. You began to pull away. “Have fun tomorrow.”

“I will. I–” Alexia’s cheeks flushed before she smiled. “Bye, for now.”

Later, when you were in bed about to go to sleep, you received a message from Alexia. She sent you a link to a tweet containing a photoset that contained pictures of the three of you but mostly pictures of a hooded Alexia taken from a distance by the photos’ grainy quality, captioned, 'Alexia, what are you doing????’ followed by a string of laughing emojis.

At that, you couldn’t help but laugh. Her disguise was ridiculous in person, but captured like this, you thought it was a work of pure comedy. 

You messaged her back, 'I guess you do have reason to be modest after all.’

[notreallyuseless]

Me: *having fun and laughing at Baghera and Cellbit killing people*

My brain out of nowhere: what would q!Phil think... how would he react if he saw his two teammates in this state. Would he feel guilt? Because he couldnt save them? Because he let them go down this murderous path? Would he feel anger? Towards the Watcher for pushing them to this extreme? Towards himself for not being there for them?

Would he wish he stayed there so that something like this didnt't happen to them.? Or would he wish he was there so that they wouldnt feel so alone?

[123pixieaod]

oh my god your girl daniel was so amazing!!! it was such a treat to read and if you ever have any more thoughts about that universe i would love to hear it!!! <3

Anon, do I ever!!!!

Firstly thank you so much for the kind words 💖 I had never written girl Daniel before so I'm so happy you think she works :)))

Secondly, yes. Yes I do. You have either opened Pandoras Box or a can of worms, depending on which allegory takes your fancy, because I literally cannot stop thinking about insecure Girl Daniel, and what would happen next to her (so I apologise in advance for the upcoming rambles lol).

So, after the time in the gym, Daniel phones Michelle and Michelle has about zero sympathy for her because she is a Working Mother™️ and thinks (possibly correctly) Daniel is a single millionaire professional sportswoman and has no right to be having problems (again going back to this deep rooted misogyny that for a woman having a family is the most important calling for them, and everything else paled in comparison).

And basically Michelle tells Daniel that of course Max would say and think that because Daniel always acts like a 'one of the boys', even as a little child, and dresses as if she doesn't care what people think of her (jealousy now from Michelle that she never felt like she could be that free???)

So Daniel gets off the call and basically decides to change, and the first thing she does is gets fake nails put on. And she goes for these little gell ones with flowers on because Flowers are Feminine.

But at the next race weekend, walking back after the press conference with Max, she realises that the nail onher ring finger has fallen off and just starts to ... cry. Because it feels like the universe's big fat way of telling her she's never going to be desirable and no man will ever want to marry her (and ofc by no man she means Max, but accepting how utterly in love with him she is feels like defeat in a different way). And Max is walking with her to the motorhome of Red Bull/ Alpha Tauri and is slightly freaking out because 😰why is Daniel just staring at her hands😰why is she nearly crying😰 and he asks and that does make her burst into tears because she just feels so pathetic in that moment, and the only thing she can say is one of her new gel nails fell off and she walks away before he can say anything else.

That evening she pretends she's feeling a bit unwell so gets to stay in her driver room and eat dinner alone and feels slightly less miserable because she now has an Even Better Plan ™️ and so she pulls off all the fake nails (flowers? How old is she, six?) and calls her mum asking for advice and is half way through listening to her mums step by step process for straightening her hair when there's a knock on her door and it's Max holding out the lost nail. And as soon as Daniel opens the door he marches in complaining that she should be more careful and that it was under the couch and he got such strange looks from the staff so the next time she should not be so upset over a nail and instead just take another from the box and replace it, and all Daniel is able to say is she didn't buy the gell nails in a box she got them done directly at a nail salon and Max just blinks out at her. And then nods, and mumbles that Kelly orders her online and they come on a box with extra. He looks away as he gentle places the sole gell nail down on her table.

"I suppose it is a good thing then I got it for you, if you had no spares," he mumbles, cheeks suddenly warm, and Daniel just nods and stutters a "thank you" and Max nods again as if they've both been caught doing something embarrassing and leaves quickly. And then Daniel is staring at the nail that Max went back and searched for and found, just for her, and then goes to retrieve all the others she ripped off and begins to carefully glue them back on, refusing to think about what any of it could mean.

ANYWAY then it's time for Daniel's Big Plan™️. This is where she gets her hair professionally straightened and begins to smile with only her lips and tries not to laugh because Girls Don't Have Loud Honking Laughs and wears long sleeves to hide her tattoos and when she's going out she wears dresses and she finally shaves her legs and she learns to wear makeup and trims her eyebrows and waxes the hair on her upper lip and begins to wear jewellery (but only clipon earrings because her race engineer tells her she would be a fucking idiot to try and get her ears pieced and then expect them to not get infected while wearing a racing helmet).

And for a while, she feels good. She feels really good. She likes the way her mother keeps texting her photos that the f1 photographers take of her and telling her how beautiful she looks now. She likes her sister texting her advice on which shoes go with which dresses and saying she's glad Daniel's finally grown up ("usually the tomboy phase only lasts a few years, not two and a bit decades, but at least you're out the other side of it"). She gets attention too, papers writing of "Ricciardo's New Look!" and articles on her "killer figure previously hidden under oversized clothing".

She likes it and she lives for the moment at at a party when they're both drunk and Max brushes his fingers over her long, silver, dangley earrings, saying "pretty," and Daniel feels her chest contracting and Max suddenly drops his hand as if the silver burns, and he looks at her and she looks back and he blinks, Maldives-blue eyes meeting her dark ones lined with eyeliner. "Thanks," she whispers, and he just jerks a nod and then takes a step back, as if there wasn't enough oxygen for the two of them that close together.

But then it slowly turns sour. She gets tired of constantly trying, constantly waking up early to do her makeup and constantly ignoring her favourite, baggy clothes in favour of new, tight shirts and dresses her sister recommends. Her mother sends her another photo, but this time it's just accompanied with "That's a bit revealing don't you think Dani?" When she facetimes her dad with her new smooth, straight hair and makeup and a smile that's always closelipped, he looks sad as he smiles back at her.

She comes P3 at the race before the summer break, and goes out wearing a sequined purple dress her sister encouraged her to buy, which once she wouldn't even consider wearing (she knows her mother would call it borderline obscene with its plunging neck line and high hem). At the last moment, she puts on the earrings Max complimented, refusing to think about the warmth in her chest as she clips them on.

At the party, she gets drunk and finds Max, and he's drinking and Kelly is there too, and she just looks so perfect, and suddenly Daniel feels like a little girl playing dress up. It all comes so natural to Kelly. She doesn't have to try to be feminine and beautiful. She just is. And Max isn't. No matter how many dresses she buys or makeup, she wears or hair heels she nearly twists her ankles on, she won't be Kelly. That's the sort of beauty you're born with, the sort Daniel is so clearly deficient in.

She wants to leave, but Max sees her before she can and weaves his way to her. His cheeks are flushed from drink, and he's wearing a white shirt with the top buttons undone, and he looks so good that she wants to die. "Your earrings," he says, blinking at them before meeting her gaze. "I talked to Victoria. About you."

"Cheers for letting me know," Daniel tries to make a joke but it sounds too bitter to land. Max frowns, no doubt picking up on her tone.

"No, I mean... what I said about you earrings. Last time. About them being pretty."

Daniel suddenly can't breathe. The club is too busy, too dark, too noisy, too much. She wants to leave, wants to suspend this moment in Amber and let his sentence stay unfinished.

"I did not mean it."

And Daniel barks a laugh, her chest aching like it's being crushed. She's so fucking stupid.

"No wait," Max says quickly, cheeks growing hotter. "I did not - I mean, of course I meant it. But they are just earrings. They are pretty because you are wearing them, and you are pretty. I do not -"

"Hi," Kelly materialises beside them, wrapping a perfect, unblemished arm around Max's waist. "Congratulations on the podium Daniel," she says in her sensual accent, the cadence smooth and so unlike the musical, messy lilt of Daniel's Australian one.

She forces a smile. Close lip. She refuses to look at Max. She makes up some excuse about not having a drink. She leaves them.

And then the night gets even more messy and Daniel gets even more drunk and ends up on the dance floor with some creep who keeps putting his hands on her ass no matter how many times she grabs them and raises them to her waist and then a tiny voice is asking her what the fuck are you doing and she leaves and the air is cold on her cheeks and her bare arms and shaven legs and her smooth hair keeps flying into her eyes and she's hugging herself as she's walking aimlessly, and then someone calls her name and it's Max, looking exhausted but significantly more sober then before.

"I did not mean what I said," he continues stubbornly, an echo of previous words, the moment that triggered her desperate attempt to change, sparking this whole fuck up.

"I looked for you," he says with a frown as if Daniel was a misbehaving child.

She snaps, "Maybe I didn't want to see you," and he blinks as if she's slapped him, as if the thought never even occurred to him.

"Yes you did. You always mean what you say." Daniel hugs herself tighter. She looks away. She wants to cry.

"Yes," he allows after a beat. "Okay, I meant what I said but I did not say it how I meant to. I just meant that the earrings are not the things which made you pretty, that -"

"And Victoria told you to say that, did she?" Daniel says, voice back to bitterness.

"No, she didn't," Max replies, his own tone beginning to sound annoyed, like Daniel is intentionally vexing him. "But she did tell... well, she made me think, and what I think is that you are not very happy, Daniel."

Daniel jerks her head up, staring at him.

"What?"

"Happy," he repeats, brows knitted together. "I do not think you are happy."

Nobody has said that to her. She has been praised or accused, her new look attracting attention and labels and names. But in all the rush and noice and chatter, nobody had said that.

"I am happy," she says after a pause, mind racing. "Of course I'm happy. Why wouldn't I be happy?"

His lips thin. "You do not smile any more. Not like how you used to."

Daniel barks out a laugh, feeling something in her chest constrict even further.

So then they have a Big Argument and Max says he does not understand why she has changed her appearance so much if it's making her so miserable and he does not like how she dresses and acts because she's not laughing or smiling anymore and she is not happy. Daniel snaps back that maybe she doesn't give two shits about what he thinks (the irony burning her from the inside out) and the argument gets even worst and eventually Daniel storms off and Max doesnt follow her.

When she gets home she just lays on her bed and cries and doesn't even bother taking off her makeup, even though she knows her mother would scold her and say she'll get spots.

It's summer break and Daniel watches as Kelly posts photo after photo of Max on holidays with her family, and Daniel just... gives up. She didn't care. It was never possible, because she's not like women like Kelly. She's Daniel, and no amount of straightened hair or revealing dresses will change that.

So she throws it all out. She bags all her new clothes into bin bags and leaves it anonymously outside a charity shop. She throws out all her makeup. She gives her straightener to a alpha tauri worker for their daughter. She lets the hair on her upper lip grow back. She goes back to her baggy shirts and ancient ripped jeans and frizzy hair. She stops caring, and it's one of the most freeing things she's ever done. She's Daniel again, Daniel with the crazy curls and oversized shirts. Daniel. Herself again.

Everyone is disappointed. Her mother barely speaks for the entire facetime they do, her lips thin in disapproval as she takes in Daniel's altered style. Her sister snaps at Daniel for wasting her time looking for advice if she was just going back to not bothering about how she looks. The papers declare "Babe-cardo is gone" and publish photos of her wearing dresses and make up as if it's a eulogy.

She is nervous to see Max again, waiting for his expression to fall as he sees she's back to being messy, ugly Daniel. Instead, his face lights up when he walks into the meeting room and sees her. They haven't spoken since their fight, haven't even texted, but Daniel blurts out a stupid joke about how even under the Mediterranean sun Max still has the colouring of a sickly Victorian child, but Max laughs and then Daniel laugh, back to her honking laugh which makes everyone turn and look at her, and just like that she knows her and Max are back to normal.

Only it's more than normal. When everyone else looks at her like she's a let down, Max smiles as if he never quite wants to stop looking at her. When some reporter asks in a patronising manner if she was trying different hair textures to see which is more aerodynamic, Max replies before Daniel can even begin to form a polite PR answer, pointing out George now has a middle parting, and surely that's much more important news then Daniel's curls, and everyone laughs and looks at George as he blushes and tries to stammer out a response. But Daniel just looks at Max, who looks back from across the opposite side of the interviewing coach. And she grins, and then Max grins back and laughs softly, looking away.

And this is pretty much the point where the tags on the fic begin. Max and Daniel are somehow closer than ever. Max keeps giving her compliments, which is new, but they're always such Max compliments Daniel can't help but laugh as he says them. Like "you are only a few seconds behind me, they is very good" or "Daniel, is your bagpack new it is very lovely and big" about a rucksack he's definitely seen her with about a hundreds time before (((but the compliments are never about her physical appearance, which Daniel never actually realises and possibly Max doesnt even realise it either. She's just Daniel, and it's her smile and her sense of humour and her liveliness which makes her beautiful to Max, not how she styles her hair or which clothes she wears))).

So then Daniel finally wins a race and Max is the first to hug her tightly and tell her how amazing she is and how lovely her drive was and of course if be hasn't had engine problems then she would've had a proper fight on her hands but he is sure it is the first of many podiums they'll share and Daniel's just laughing and hugging him back and on the podium she gets Max to do a shoey but holds her shoe to his lips and watches as the champaign runs down over his lips and the buldge of his Adams apple moves with his swallowing and she suddenly feels very drunk and slightly ill, knowing she can't have any of it but now after making her peace with it.

And down below Kelly is like 🤨🤨🤨 and doesn't understand because Max definitely didn't desire Daniel when she tried to be pretty (not very successfully either, she thinks) so how could he find her desirable now in a sweaty race suit and with inked arms dusted with dark hair and wild curls which are more frizz then anything else and a smile which seems almost cartoonist its so unnaturally big???? But she knows what she saw, watching him gently brush a few wayward curls away which had been glued to Daniel's forehead and cheeks by the champaign, watching him drink from her shoe, watching him smile at Daniel as if she's the only thing he can see.

So that night she gives him an ultimate. He has to stop seeing Daniel, or else she'll leave. And Max is like wtf Kelly isn't like other girls she's secure!!! And it's just Daniel!!!! And Kelly just snaps its pathetic and embarrassing how obviously he pines after the weirdo, and Max just goes very still and Kelly tells him Daniel is probably a lesbian anyway from how she dresses (we bringing all types of internalised misogyny in this fic🫠) and they wouldn't make any sense but him and Kelly are perfect, and Max just nods because he doesn't... him and Kelly make Sense. She's beautiful and classy and his dad tells Max that he picked well with her and people in f1 always tell him how lucky he is to have such a beautiful girlfriend and his mum writes "Max and Kelly" in letters now and somehow Max nodding is equating to him texting Daniel, Kelly dictating exactly what to say.

And Daniel gets the text and just sort of feels herself falling apart and it's so unfair because he said her earrings were pretty and then took it back, how could Kelly possibly think she's a threat to her?? But Daniel does what Max asks and doesn't text him and he doesn't text her and at the next race they acknowledge each other as nothing more then professional coworkers and Daniel wonders if this is what heartbreak is like, and how losing Max as a friend is a thousand times worse than when she admitted to herself he'd never find her desirable.

She goes back to Monaco for the two week break. She buys a photo of a shark, this one swimming and alive and looking so real she swears his eyes follow her. She hangs it in her living room. She loves it. She buys flowers. She cleans her apartment. She tries to learn to bake.

Then, a knock on her door. She's half way through baking a possibly unsaveble batch of brownies (she got the salt and sugar mixed up :((( ) and opens the door with an old Red Bull apron, a lá a Red Bull PR Christmas videos from years back, and hair in a wild mess and tattered Aussie slippers and there's Max. And even before she can comprehend he's standing there with a bouquet of especially drooping flowers he's marching in past her, going to the cabinet to get a vase all while complaining about how awful the florists in Monaco are and how they fucked up his order and how one day he will take her to the Netherlands, proper, not just for a race, and show her the tulips fields and then she will get proper flowers and and and and -

And Daniel is just standing by the still open door, staring at him, distantly wondering if she's astronomically fucked up the oven temperatures and this is CO2 poisoning. Max suddenly stills, stopping mid sentence to worry his lip before turning and blurting out "You're not a lesbian, are you?"

And Daniel is so shocked she bursts out laughing and Max's cheeks flood warm and he quickly says that of course it would be fine if she is, he has lots of gay and bi friends and besides, he knows he likes Daniel in a lot of ways and he would be happy having her as a friend because she's his best one and he -

And Daniel takes pitying on him and finally says no Max I'm not a lesbian and Max just sort of nods and looks away, and Daniel finally shuts the door but can't stop staring at him and then she laughing again, but in delight and happiness and joy as she finally realises what he said and what he meant, and then Max is laughing too and she can still feel the smile on his lips when they kiss.

And they have wonderful, pent-up-longing-finally-released make out session in her kitchen and then Daniel's alarm goes off and they spring apart as if they're teenagers caught misbehaving and Daniel looks at Max and Max looks back at her and then she grins and he looks so relieved and smiles back.

"I have wanted to do that for a long time," Max admits softly, cheeks blazing as he helps Daniel cut the brownies into squares. She looks at him but he won't meet her eye and then it somehow comes out in mutters and blushes that he's liked her for literal years, but of course she would not like someone like him, she's too cool and free and extroverted, and he moved on and Daniel just can't believe it (((Max loves her for things which aren't her physical appearance!!!)))) and tells Max he's an idiot and when he looks up at her in surprise, she kisses him.

And then Max tries her brownie and Daniel is weirdly afraid something mightve changed between them now but he takes one bite and makes a face and tells her she has always been a bit of a shit cook but this is astronomically shit and Daniel laughs and playfully shoves him and then tries a piece and can't even pretend to enjoy it. They throw it out and Max orders from their favourite Chinese and then life gets bigger and bigger and Max doesnt care if Daniel dresses smart or casual or shave or wears make up, but the one thing he insists on is she not straighten her hair again because he likes to wind the curls around his fingers and tug softly on then. Daniel somehow smiles even more and her laugh is even louder but she no longer cares, and the shark painting in her living room continues to watch her with bright, black eyes and Max eats all the ice cream left in her freezer that she hasn't been able to touch and each time she thinks she can't get any happier, Max will or complain about her thick hair clogging up the shower drain or ban her from cooking unless he's there to supervise and keep the salt and sugar separate or or or

And it goes on like that, happy and in love :)))

[tigerr-cherry]

HELLO WAITER WAITER SOME CREAM RAMBLE AND ART PLEASE

Evil and fucked up i didn't see the post for fit suggestion

May i suggest something along these lines

I have 0 idea what style Cream would b about so yeahg

Cherry Im shaking yiuy

EVIL AND FUCKED UP INDEED !

Jfgjdsg sorry I took so long 2 answers. I wasn't sure how much info I should spill, so I rewrote this like 6 times. each time a different part of the story lol

¡ info dump !

So! First thing about Cream is that they're a demon! Well, technically part demon. Cream comes from a long family history of demon blood. On their mother's side, it's rumored that the family made a deal with the devil for power and riches but for whatever reason they never uphold the deal and was cursed with supernatural ability that will never give them peace. Basically, they're kinda like mediums.

On their father's, rumored to blessed with the blood of angels. Noble and holy people who lead with strength and wisdom. They’re basically like royalty. But plot twist! Both sides of the family r from demons ! A lot happens (trauma) in their childhood and early life, but I won't get to that

Where the story starts is when Cream is being dragged up from 'hell' after just successfully taking over the throne . She was just betrayed by one of their allies, which she had suspected but underestimated how hard they were gonna hit. Being dragged up to the moral realm means death to demons, but since Cream is part human, it won't kill her because she has a physical form.

Anyways, where Cream was pulled up from was in Judith's late grandma's backyard, who watched the whole thing. Obviously scared shitless she starts freaking out.

Cream needs energy to get back to 'hell' so they take control of the situation and convince judith that they're just an injured poor soul that just wants to go home :(

Judith unfortunately believes them bc she understand how it feels. Cream can easily read Judith right off the bat. Judith is deeply insecure, low self-esteem, and just wants to belong, plus ! She's grieving over her presume to be dead grandma. Cream takes advantage of her vulnerability and tells judith whatever she wanna hear to slowly consume her energy (which will eventually kill her). Girl falls in love with them bc who wouldn't?

This is the part of the story where I'm deciding how cruel Cream will be for her own desires . Is this all just an act to get what they want and secretly actually care about Judith in their weird way? Or does cream simple not gaf ?

Uhhh fun facts!

• Cream goes by they/she/it . No longer really sees themselves as a person more of a thing. No labels on sexuality bc Cream will go for anyone they think is fun

• Cream has Anophthalmia, which is when the eye is didn’t develop . They also happen to get a scar over that eye in a bar fight lol

• favorite bands are MARINA and Studio Killers

• dosen't like wearing clothes lmao they kinda feel like they're above that so Judith has to convince them to wear at least a shirt. It's a good day if she can get Cream to wear a dress at least

• hasn't been it the mortal realm since the 16th century, so it has been a difficult adjustment for them

• when the story takes place, Cream unknowingly has a great (x20) granddaughter roaming around. It doesn't have any importance to the story, tho

•Cream isn't its real name

Here's some songs that fit w the characters' theme/ vibe

•how Cream sees itself

•how Cream sees their relationship with Judith

• how Judith sees Cream

•basically a general view of their relationship

Uhh art next ! Sorry

Old art I have of cream back when they were an Arcana oc. Oh, how much they've changed 🤧(this is from I was like 17-18. I had a LOT more, but I've lost a major of it)