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carylmeanslove · 3 days ago

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My thoughts on it all after a very vivid dream I had. (Thank you intuition)

(My strictly speculation, but it makes a whole hell of a LOT of sense, doesn't it?)

The truth is being hinted at. Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she did & JD looking like an assistant more than a friend in the last two days. After this week being very busy. It feels like we're ramping up to the grand finale in this whole thing.

Now let me tell you about what I think happened due in part to a vivid dream I had. I am not saying that JV & A were always a thing/dating since back in 2023. I think they were friends but do like each other very much thus the body language, behavior back then & her body language & look now.

It's evident that A wants to be famous/wants to have money more than anything but doesn't want to work hard herself & wants it handed to her. So, she saw her chance to get that with being with Luke & using him to get there. Luke is why she found a way into meeting him & wanted to be in Luke's friend group in the first place. She thought she could try to get involved with Luke only to ride his coat tails/use him to gain fame & fortune. So that's what A stayed focused on even if JV seem so great when she met him & she unexpectedly really liked him a lot, but JV isn't famous.

She didn't realize that it wasn't going to be easy, because Luke's heart belongs to someone. A didn't let that stop her trying though. I still get mad when watching the videos of the NYE 2023 party. Because he was totally wasted. He totally wasn't in his right mind that night. I can totally imagine the SoHos working on him due to his sadness over not being with Nicola due to them still being on their break & not knowing if she'd want to get back together when after reshoots it probably made him very much wanting to get back together even more. The Sohos probably using his sadness to take advantage of him. Having him drink away his sadness.

When the videos of the party leaked. A used the optics of the kiss to her advantage, but very slyly so she could remain in the Soho friend group. She probably/very likely made Luke feel bad. That she thinks he took advantage of her by kissing her while they all know he is in love with someone. When in reality it was her & the Sohos who took advantage of HIM by getting him drunk. So, Luke feeling in the wrong allowed her to remain in the group.

I have to add here that I think A was to Luke only someone in his friends group, which then after he learned of her true nature, he started calling her just a friend of a friend. If there was a situationship or any casual dating going on, wouldn't they have been standing next to each other/touching in the Sohos photobooth pictures? Remember on the WT on the Wingman question? Luke said he has friends who have tried to wingman him. But he said sorry to those friends, that he is not the one to help. It's because his heart was taken by Nic & he was hopeful that they'd get back together. It probably happened when he was depressed over Nic, that they tried to get him to maybe start seeing A, but it was a hard no. But we know they probably didn't let that stop them from taking advantage of him during NYE.

Now the tennis court cheek kiss is very telling in my opinion. He tensed up when she kissed his cheek. If they were really together, wouldn't it have been another 'on the lips' kiss? A knew she couldn't kiss him on the lips again, because he wasn't drunk anymore & he wouldn't allow it, but someone for whom he feels guilty about kissing while drunk, her kissing him on the cheek as a fake apology for thinking he was trying to take advantage of her perhaps. A taking advantage of his kind nature. That's the feeling I get anyway.

But then once him & Nicola obviously got back together, he talked to his team about the optics of the leaked videos. They probably told him not to worry about it they can use plausible deniability by putting it out there that he is publicity single. So, it muddied the water for the online fandom/GA. It can give him & Nicola some cover/privacy until they're ready to announce their relationship but also doesn't confirm something with A that was never true. A kept up her sly ways unknown or unrealized by Luke & since he felt so guilty still about kissing her while drunk, he decided to let her get some exposure for a bit. Likely here is when he even promised her the exposure.

Then when she got less & less sly (going rogue) & Nicola helped him see why A was doing it. Luke had to make sure A wasn't misunderstanding that he wasn't interested in her. But of course, she didn't like being rejected. She was losing her way, her chance at being famous, where she wanted to be. So, she worked some stuff over some people that are super close to Luke. She weaseled her way to the NYC premiere even though she was uninvited. After that Luke started seeing A's true motives & her true nature. Eventually his team had to step in with the NDA, because then it was desperately needed especially when there was more than just keeping his & Nicola's relationship a secret, but also a precious little one too. Luke learning A's true nature is why he was displaying more & more anger body language around A as time went on. When around the Sohos as a group it isn't as bad, because the friends are there too. But when it's A by herself he is miserable.

Someone said that A was heard saying at the NYC premiere that she wasn't given the exposure she was promised. Makes me think she was wanting him to act happy around her not just her getting to be around him. She wanted the Luke that he is when he is around Nicola. That's ridiculous of her to think he'd do. She wanted it to be truly believed they were together. She wanted to be treated like the most important person ever. Thus, her behavior at the NYC premiere. She wanted to be seen as if she was the biggest star that ever lived. (*Sarcasm activated due to this whole thing about A* Great parenting Mr. & Mrs. R!) Her illusions of grandeur & her upbringing making her that way. (Come on A, you don't have to be the same as your parents. Do better, Be better!)

I think she planned the Pap moment. She wanted to trap Luke without being blamed for it. She called Backgrid. I believe it was her more than it being her mother or someone else in her circle that did it. She didn't look surprised AT ALL in those pictures. She wanted to make it look like they were together & that it was a hard launch, but I love that Luke ran ahead to get away from her, so fast that she almost fell. Serves her right.

He was still under the NDA. He willingly fell on the sword for Nicola & BN. He took the heat. I still smile thinking about his 'We won't let her ruin our night' moment story afterwards & Nicola's song she shared with the lyrics "I'll be waiting for you"

So then began the "HBS" trips that I'm sure were part of the NDA obligations due to him allowing A to be around still at that point. Letting the optics of it to continue until he fulfills the NDA obligations. A getting into the GQ Heroes event even though she wouldn't have normally. R & S hiring her so she could get in is so telling.

Then comes the adorable things of Luke bringing up Nicola on Fallon with a hint of his feelings for her with 'I could be Ken for her', Also, him subtly confirming the rumors in Brazil being true about the walk on the beach. Gotta love Lukey's breadcrumbs. Then what we now know is that Nicola was in NYC at same time. L/N's teams probably cleverly arranged Fallon/KS on their schedules so they could spend some more time together between busy schedules.

Then we got another obligation (perk for A I'm sure) being fulfilled by Luke with him taking A to a Milan fashion show. Poor thing, Luke was miserable. Thank God for Holly (Girl, I love you!) But then we got another possible Luke & Nicola time with Temu Luke/Dylan B (Decoy for Luke) being seen in Paris near Luke. Holly gave us a hint about it in a comment interaction with Nicola about his look. Also adore Luke already wanting to get his curls back for Nicola. Pace yourself Lukey, I know you really love making your Nic happy, but hair is going grow as fast as it can grow.

Then we got A thinking she's smart by posting insinuations every time Nicola posted something great. Trying to undermine Nicola & Luke. Also revealing her jealousy of Nicola, because Nicola is everything A can never be. We got the amazing JVN combating A's behavior with their amazing shading talent. Love you JVN! We also got crumbs from them of L/N's 'little pumpkin' coming.

Then we noticed pieces more recently that when put together with stuff in the summer it shows Luke & Nicola went to Italy the week leading to the Sorrento ordeal. That was the final straw for Luke with the Soho crap. He left the Sohos behind. He went home to Nicola, Good thing Nicola likely warned him of some stuff about the Soho's sly & manipulating behaviors as well as the obvious danger they put him in by posting in real time his location.

Luke & Nicola were finally reunited; his summer was complete. Thank you, Emily, for your story letting us know it was done. But they still couldn't do anything like announce their happiness openly yet because Luke was still under the NDA contract, it probably stated they couldn't hard launch until after a certain date. He left A behind, so he didn't really complete his obligations, but he didn't care. He was still liking her posts; that's also obligations so it counted. Nicola didn't confirm but still hinted at their happiness. They then had to work out what to do with the whole Luke bashing that was happening. The JD thing was their answer. Prove people's double standards. Or at least, that was part of it. There was more to it. L/N were taking turns in the spotlight. Decoy needed.

Fast forward to a couple of almost hard launches after the 1st round of the NDA was complete in October. Each one being thwarted. First by a horrible fake red haired menace's minion & the 2nd by A lying & posting another insinuation in the form of Spain pictures. I keep telling people she wasn't there with Luke. The damn floor of the balcony is a different color. The balconies do NOT match. It's A's lying ways. Just like her stolen video of a pasta making restaurant & trying to pass it as her own, to which JVN was acting very frustrated afterward (I feel ya, JVN) & Nicola liked a posted meme of SpongeBob that showed she really wanted to say something but not being able to. (I feel ya, Nic) Then later the Gelato eating in Cyprus trying to pass it off as Italy. EYE ROLL.

--- post about this time period coming soon.

Finally, after things were starting to serious about BN which I think A wasn't able to take it when she knew time was running out. That BN would be coming soon, afraid that they would launch any day. She got the lawyers involved, because she felt she wasn't given enough. Luke tried to get her to have more chance of getting the kind of exposure she wanted by trying to rehab her image in December. Even JV got involved (Pathetic Girl, that is who you really like. It's plain as day. Do better, be better & get it!). That was when the 2nd round of obligations started, which Luke & Nicola of course would have made sure was arranged to be when they needed some privacy the most for their little one arriving. Having those closest to them help in the believability.

--- post about this time period coming soon.

I believe 2nd round is now almost over so Luke & Nicola are subtly blending in some truth in the fake narrative with A looking at JV the way she was & JD looking as if he is an assistant more than a friend & I can't wait for truth to be revealed.

That is my current thoughts/belief on the timeline.

ETA: Added something I forgot in the A being in the Sohos friend group, NYC premiere, Sorrento & Lukola's August sections. Also rewording a few things & fixing typos.

ETA: I fixed a couple more typos & clarified some things to better aligne to what I believe. If you reblogged you might want to delete those &/or reblog this updated version. I also added a surprise in parts that I believe those who enjoyed this post like.

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lewismcqueen · 2 days ago

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could've been. 2/2

lh44 x black!reader

start from beginning summary: things between you and Lewis escalate quickly, and you learn to become a very good liar. wc: 6k...sigh cw: girl they fuckin a/n: you can low key tell when i got tired and just started saying anything but shhhh. open ending because why not lol

Lewis texted you not long after the party ended. Your phone flashed in the car on the ride home.

Lewis: hey, you seemed a bit uncomfortable back there.

Lewis: sorry if i ambushed you lol. Just got a bit excited to see you after so long

You stared at the messages, not wanting to start crafting a response just yet. Instead, you looked up at Joshua.

“That was fun,” you sighed. “Nice to see some familiar faces.”

Joshua didn’t have to turn to you for you to hear the self-satisfaction in his voice. “You saw Lewis there, right? I really don’t know how, but I managed to get him on an off-day—more of an off-afternoon, really, you know those drivers—and he said he’d just love to catch up. I didn’t tell you because I wanted it to be a surprise. Did you manage to speak to him?”

Leave it to your husband to answer your questions before you’d even asked them.

You nodded, your mind already elsewhere. “Yeah, we had a…a chat.”

Joshua’s eyes became crescent moons in the rearview mirror, and he laughed.

“That’s great. See? And all it took was a phone call!”

“M-hm.”

You watched trees whizz by, becoming progressively smaller and skinnier the closer you got to your neighborhood. Elbow resting by the window, you let your mind drift towards thoughts of deep brown eyes and tattooed fingers.

One week ago…

Joshua was off traveling for work again, a fact that you were only made aware of after he called you from the airport. The man had apparently “assumed you knew the deal by now”. As evening fell, you paced around the empty penthouse, no longer quietly seething like this morning, but still terribly bored. You’d cleaned the kitchen twice in a sudden whirlwind of restlessness, now spotless and smelling of a cocktail of cleaning products that nearly gave you a headache. There was nothing on television or Netflix; you'd checked. So you decided to give up and hop into bed early.

You pulled your bath robe over your shoulders, freshly-washed coils dripping water as you sat beneath the heavy blanket, laptop sitting in front of you with YouTube pulled up.

Formula One interviews had become your bread and butter; it was a comfort to quietly pick apart strategies and post-race analysis, to delineate between who had a good head on their shoulders and who was just bullshitting for the cameras. In the corner of your eye, a thumbnail for a post-race interview featured a familiar face.

He looks so different now.

You can't help yourself.

Neat braids tied back in his usual ponytail, with two loose strands framing his face. Lewis pulls up the collar of his coat to shield from the cold. The boyish way that he tilts his head while gazing at the interviewer brings an old memory forth from the back of your mind. You remove your robe halfway, suddenly feeling too warm.

The longer you watch Lewis’ shifting expressions—intense focus, then a knowing smile after telling a joke—the harder it becomes to register the words coming out of his mouth. Something about stewarding, said more eloquently than the younger him would have ever been able to manage. He's gone and gotten a nose piercing, which somehow suits his face so well that it feels like he's always had it. You can't tell if the moisture on your skin is from the shower or your own sweat.

A noise outside—a trash can—startles you and you abruptly shut the laptop closed with a sharp clap. As if you were afraid of being caught. But caught doing what? Surely, watching sports interviews was perfectly legal.

Maybe it's because you realize that your mouth has fallen open while watching, and that your fingers are now beneath the blanket, squeezing and pinching your inner thigh while your other hand gently squeezes your breast. You begin imagining that they're someone else's hands.

I just miss Joshua, you tell yourself. It makes you feel less guilty for reaching beneath your robe and rubbing the pads of your fingers against the soft fabric of your underwear. It's already sticking to you, creating a bit of resistance as you try to slide them off. You only get them down to your knees before running out of patience. You massage two fingers up and down sensitive folds until they come away wet and glide easily. Easily enough to finally slip inside, making your breath hitch.

When you shut your eyes, you stop trying to imagine your husband’s fingers in the empty bed.

They turn into Lewis’—first clear of ink before they become covered in tattoos that you want to ask the meaning of—then you imagine his lips. It doesn't take much imagination to dredge up the feeling of them, trailing fire along your skin before sending burning pleasure coursing through your system as they caught on the bundle of nerves between your thighs. He'd be unrelenting with his tongue once you gave him permission. Would he smile kindly at you now, or smirk at how easy it still was to make you fall apart?

Lewis’ soft voice echoes around your head as you inch closer to the edge. The words start out as things he's said to you before. You speed up as the tension in your middle builds.

The more you lose yourself, the more your mind starts weaving together sentences that you might never hear him utter in your presence. Soon, he's talking you through it, breathy and polite as ever as your fingers make disgusting sounds that you cannot hear over your rapid heartbeat.

“You're doing so well, sweetheart, that's it.”

“I missed you.”

“You're so close, that’s a good girl.”

“Let it go.”

Soft moans spill from your lips as your back arches, and you release in waves.

With a clear head, you realize that there's a darkening wet spot beneath you. You hadn't felt yourself squirt, but it seemed you had. With a deep breath, you decide to take another shower. Cold this time.

Present day.

The blue light of your screen illuminated your face. It was close to midnight when you finally decided to reply to Lewis’ texts.

You: you didn't make me uncomfortable, no worries! Josh just didn't tell me you were coming to ‘surprise’ me

Lewis: 🤣 were you sufficiently surprised?

You: I nearly had a heart attack when I turned around lol

“What's giving you the giggles, hun?”

“Just messaging a friend,” you held your phone close to your chest, even though Joshua was rolled over in the opposite direction under the covers. “Sorry if I woke you.”

“That's alright. Your stuff’s all packed for tomorrow?”

“I've just finished packing the last of it.”

You feel the covers shift as he turns to face you. The moonlight filtering through the window reveals the outline of his face, allowing you to make out a gentle smile.

“Good. We've got a tight schedule.”

You chuckled. “For a vacation?”

“You bet. I take fun very seriously.”

You foolishly thought that a trip to Monaco would take your mind off of Lewis, but he managed to find himself invited to nearly every single dinner, outing, or poolside hangout.

Every. Single. One.

You had begun to ask yourself if Joshua was somehow fixated upon the idea of reconnecting you with your childhood friend, or if he just really wanted to be seen around Lewis Hamilton. Based on the number of times he raised his phone to take a selfie with the man, you were beginning to suspect the latter.

“Another one, mate? Don't you have enough?” Lewis laughed as Joshua grabbed his phone off of the wooden table sitting between the two men's lounge chairs.

“Just making memories, man!”

Your husband’s arm lowered to examine the photos. While he wasn't watching, Lewis glanced over him to make eye contact with you. He gave you a questioning look. You smiled, and shrugged. Joshua’s shenanigans were just another Tuesday for you.

“Alright folks, I'm gonna go get us some margaritas. Wish me luck!”

Joshua rose from his seat and gave a two-fingered salute before turning to leave, making a beeline for the poolside bar. You rolled your eyes, silently begging and pleading to whoever could be up there that he would eventually tire of the cool guy act and take you home early.

Lewis seemed to be chuckling at something. When you turned your head, you realized that he was watching you intently.

“Is he like that at home?” He asked. He had one hand behind his head, and the other idly resting on a bare torso. It took a great amount of focus not to stare at the ink in the middle of his chest: a compass.

“Ah, well, he's…definitely calmer at home,” you replied while rubbing your temples. “But it never really stops. Love him, though. What can you do?”

It might have been the sun, but Lewis seemed to narrow his eyes just slightly, his grin faltering a bit. Had you not known any better, you’d say he looked skeptical. He put on his sunglasses and said nothing.

You fiddled with your hands before getting up. “I'm gonna go for a swim before Josh gets back. He takes eons to order.”

Lewis stopped you as soon as you approached the pool.

“Oh shit, hold on—do not move another inch.”

You froze with widened eyes, immediately fearing the worst. Did you put on normal underwear instead of your bikini and forget? Was there a massive bug on your shoulder?

He was behind you in a moment.

“What is it? What's wrong?”

“Your bikini strap’s come undone.”

Relief washed over you. You were still covered despite the string that tied behind your neck being loose, but you soon wouldn't be if it wasn't tied quickly.

“Thank you,” you gestured towards your back. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all, what are friends for?”

You immediately regretted your decision. Not because Lewis did a poor job (he tied the string at an impressive speed), but because the brush of his fingers against your skin sent a shudder down your spine. He was close enough that you could smell his cologne—an understated, clean musk today—and feel his breath hit the nape of your neck, making the tiny hairs there stand on end. You stepped away as soon as you could.

“Thanks for…”

You trailed off as soon as you spun around. Your noses were nearly touching, he was so close. The sun glinted off of the stud in his nose. You wanted to trace the pigment lining the edges of his lips with your finger. Thank God he had his glasses on.

“Are you alright?” Lewis’ voice snapped you out of your daze, brows knitting together with concern.

You briskly pushed past him. “I'm fine. Thanks for helping.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, I have returned with refreshments!”

The sight of Joshua’s face had never felt like nearly as much of a relief as it did just then. Lewis glanced between you before awkwardly settling back into his chair, unsure of whether to address what had just occurred between yourself and him, or to greet your husband.

If there was one thing about Josh, he may have been brash and loud, but he was not oblivious. His lips contorted into a frown.

“Everything alright over here?”

You quickly put together an explanation. “Nothing wrong, love, it's just that, uh…Lewis has just informed me that he doesn't drink. He forgot to tell you, right Lewis?”

His lips quirked up in amusement, but he played along. “Yeah, I don't do alcohol anymore. Sorry, mate. I let you buy one for me by accident.”

Joshua looked genuinely shocked for a moment before regaining his composure, as if he had been introduced to a new concept. He shrugged despite the tray of delicate drinks in his hand, million-dollar smile returning in full force.

“All good, brother. I might quit the drinks myself at some point, to be honest,”

He passed Lewis and moved to where you were so that you could take your own glass. “Just not today. One of us is gonna have to take one for the team and down an extra glass, right, honey?”

Joshua winked at you. Caught off-guard, your mouth opened and closed before you resigned yourself to your fate. It was certainly not the worst thing you'd ever had to endure. You smiled awkwardly.

“Sure.”

You were now holding two small but vibrant lime margaritas in both hands, the chilly condensation dripping all over your fingers. You made quick work of them both, prompting a whoop and a fist pump from your husband after you set the empty glasses back onto the tray.

“Thanks sweetheart.”

“I aim to please,” you said flatly before descending down the steps into the pool.

As it turned out, the poolside drinks were a pregame for the a restaurant visit later that evening. You sat in front of the vanity in your hotel room while Josh shaved in the bathroom. Still in your robe, you rubbed shea butter cream between your palms to melt it before slathering it over your arms and chest. You bent down to get your legs when he emerged, freshly shaven.

“Your skin’s always so shiny,” he marveled. This was the quietest his voice had been for the entire trip. He gave you a timid grin that you returned.

“It’s just body butter. Makes your skin shine even when it dries.”

He scratched the back of his neck, chuckling softly. “I’ve just got my Aveeno lotion in there. You seem to have it all figured out.”

You smiled sadly to yourself. If only that were the case.

It was 8pm, and you were nursing a glass of sparkling water while your husband spoke to (or spoke at, rather) Lewis. Save for the racer, who wore a bright yellow polo shirt, the place was filled with flowing evening dresses and button-up shirts. The men sure did love their watches, heavy metal weighing down the wrist of nearly every single one. Joshua called your name, interrupting your thoughts.

“You haven’t touched your alfredo at all! Who are you, and what have you done with my wife?”

Your head snapped up. Both men seemed to be observing you. Mustering your most photogenic smile, you brushed it off, waving your ring hand dismissively. “Oh, my appetite’s just not particularly large tonight.”

Lewis looked like he was holding back a laugh.

He chimed in, looking at you despite addressing Joshua. “I remember my dad used to take the two of us out to eat after race weekends when we were kids. Didn’t matter where we were at, it was shrimp alfredo no matter what. She hasn’t changed one bit.”

Too late, you tried to cover your mouth as you burst into laughter.

“There’s no way you actually remember that!”

“You were such a picky eater, it was ridiculous. Remember that one night when you took so long to pick something off the menu to order that the place closed?”

You reached over and smacked his arm, making the both of you laugh even harder. “I did not. Stop lying in front of my husband, Hamilton!”

“Mate, it was after I taught you how to drive in that dirty parking lot!”

“It's coming back to me now. We just grabbed fish and chips after and went home, right?”

A cough came from the opposite side of the table. Joshua had gone quiet over the course of the exchange. He turned to Lewis with a strained grin.

“You taught her how to drive? I hope you didn’t have her street racing, my friend.”

Lewis was too busy looking at you fondly to notice. “She’s a good driver. Got her first license the week after. Wouldn't let me drive her anywhere since.”

You twirled the alfredo onto your fork with a half-smile spreading across your face. “The rumors are true, I’m a natural talent at parallel parking.”

Joshua chuckled, “I wouldn’t know, I’m usually the one in the driver’s seat. Right honey?”

Picking up on the sudden terseness of his voice, you made a point of turning to him, giving him full eye contact and placating. “Yes, you're quite the gentleman, love. I do still steal the car to go shopping on the weekends, though.”

“You’re not speeding down the road just because Lewis taught you to, I hope,”

He looked at the man like he was aiming at a target. “I hear he's a bit of a thrill-seeker.”

You pressed your lips into a thin line, unsure what to say to that. Lewis stopped smiling as soon as he caught a glance at Joshua’s expression, quickly turning back to you.

“...Anyway. Speaking of cars,” Lewis carefully changed the subject, “Do you still want a tour of the factory? They’re working on a new model.”

Predictably, the phrase ‘new model’ made your eyes light up as your attention immediately snapped back to him. “Did they finally change the front wing?”

“Yup, side pods too.”

“My goodness, people, English!” Joshua interrupted with a laugh that sounded too obviously forced. “Not all of us are racers.”

Your smile faltered a bit. “Right. We can discuss later, then.”

With an arched eyebrow, Lewis’ eyes darted between you and your husband. He suddenly looked down at his watch.

“Well, it was nice chatting with the both of you,” he announced as he rose politely from his seat, “But I should get back home. Manager’s been blowing up my phone all night.”

You gave him an apologetic look. “You'd better get to it, then. Goodnight.”

Josh gave him a curt nod. “‘Night.”

After an awkward dinner, you rode back to your hotel. The car ride had been uncomfortably quiet. Anger simmered in your chest, but it would be impossible to tell Joshua why without making things worse. What would you say? That you’d prefer some alone time with a hotshot racer to him? It would sound incriminating no matter how you put it. In spite of the tense air between you, though, he still attempted to make stiff conversation.

“So…he’s giving you a factory tour, huh?”

“Of Mercedes, yes.”

“You’re really into the car stuff. Makes sense.”

You rested your chin on top of your hand, staring blankly out of the window. “I was planning on becoming an engineer in one of those factories, a long time ago. Changed my mind.”

Joshua kept his eyes forward, expression unreadable. He seemed deep in thought.

“You never told me you wanted to go into F1 specifically. Interesting.”

“Yeah.”

That night you lay awake, staring up at the ceiling while Josh snored beside you. It wasn’t the loud, obnoxious kind of snoring. More of a low rumbling, like an engine. On your nightstand, your phone flashed with a text message. Something told you you knew who it was. You reached over and grabbed it without hesitation.

Lewis: still offering that factory tour if you’re still up for it

You: I’d love to. I’ll let you know when I’m available :)

You: Also…Sorry about dinner. Idk what set Josh off like that.

Lewis: I have an idea lol but I won’t say

You: I also have a theory, but I’m not sure how to bring it up to him

You bit the nail of your thumb. Was it strange to be telling Lewis about the state of your marriage right now?

Lewis: He's not gonna be too upset if I ask you to hang out with me tomorrow?

Lewis: It won’t be long. I just want to catch up with you without stepping on any toes 😅

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears. It sounded so innocent on paper, hanging with a childhood friend. But it felt more like plotting.

You: It’s not like he can keep me inside, lol. Where are we going?

Lewis: How does doing donuts in an empty parking lot sound? Like the old days.

A smile threatened to split your face in half.

You: Hell yeah.

Josh seemed determined to fill the next day with as many impromptu activities as possible, as if he wanted to keep you from thinking about doing anything else. By the time you finally managed to get all of the Louis Vuitton packaging through the door, the sun was already setting. You set down the last of it by the bed and sighed. You were close to sweating in your velour tracksuit, glad that you had taken running shoes. Josh sank into the bed while still in his shirt and jeans, equally if not more winded from helping you carry half of the bags. The time was now.

“I’m gonna head back out, babe. I’ll only be a couple hours,” you announced with both hands on your hips.

The man sat straight up, running a hand through ruffled, jet black hair. “Why? Where’re you going?”

“For a walk. I’d like to slow down and enjoy the scenery a little.”

You don’t know why you lied, but he seemed to relax. He flopped back onto the bed, looking about ready to knock out for the evening.

“Alright, have fun.”

“Oh, come on, you definitely used to go faster than that!”

Lewis smirked at you from the driver's seat. “I can, but I don't want you losing your lunch in my car.”

“That was only one time, Lew. Let that shit go.”

His face softened.

“Back on nickname terms, are we?”

You shrugged. “I don't see why not.”

Like a kid at an amusement park, you screamed with delight as Lewis whipping the car around in rapid circles. He looked serene by contrast, finding solace in the eye of a storm while he spun the wheel and wrangled the shift lever with expertise. The window was open so that the wind hit your face while Lewis drifted.

There were other little thrills to it, like getting to watch the rings on his fingers gleam as the last rays of sunshine caught on them. Or his thick lashes coming together a bit when he squinted at the sunset. Adrenaline with a healthy dose of admiration.

Your throat was sore from all of your whooping and hollering once Lewis finally brought the car to a smooth stop. He slowly pulled out of the lot, giving you time to fan yourself off.

“I missed this,” you breathed.

Lewis had one arm resting behind the head of his seat, steering one-handed as he twisted to watch for cars behind him, earrings dangling with every movement. He stole a brief glance at you, then smiled.

“Me too.”

The drive back was comfortably silent. Both of you were coming off of the adrenaline rush, and whenever you tried to think of something to ask him, the questions became too many for just one car ride. So you said nothing.

The texts came at the same time every evening for the remaining week of your vacation, and you became an expert at lying.

“I'm just going shopping.”

“Headed to a museum, babe!”

“There's a lovely ice cream shop just around the corner.”

Driving with Lewis became drifting then grabbing a bite to eat after, which turned into grabbing a bite to eat then having long talks in his car. It wasn't long before he stopped picking you up in his car at all.

Loose curls with fading blonde highlights fell just at his shoulders when he removed his helmet. You carefully stepped off the motorcycle, afraid that you might somehow cause it to tip over.

“How do you like the motor?” Lewis asked, tucking the helmet beneath his arm. He wore a black sleeveless shirt with a silver bracelet fastened around his wrist beneath the usual watch. At that moment, you thought he'd be a shoe-in for an action movie role.

You removed your own helmet and dusted your jeans off. “Fun, but I think I prefer driving still.”

As the sky darkened outside, the two of you got lost in conversation. Lewis aired out his frustrations without needing to worry about how the media would spin it, you dreamed aloud about how you wanted more than just garden parties and small talk. At one point, the discussion turned to reminiscing on Lewis’ karting days.

“Do you still have the helmet?”

Lewis nodded. “It’s in my room on a shelf somewhere. D’you wanna go take a look?”

He led you to his bedroom, surprisingly cozy for some luxury home in Monaco. His walls were covered in candid polaroid photos, minimalist shelves filled with memorabilia. He lifted the bright yellow helmet off the shelf closest to one of the large windows, and gently deposited it into your hands. You turned it in the low light; had it always been this small?

“I loved watching this thing zip past me,” you said wistfully with a tiny smile. “Even if you lost the race.”

You handed the helmet back to Lewis, who returned it to its place. He asked, “Do you still watch me race?”

“When it’s not at 3am in the morning, sure. I try,” you replied, reaching out to brush his hair back. It was out of the blue, but the movement felt like instinct.

He watched your fingers gently tug at the end of a strand until it was straight and taught, then release it so that it bounced back.

“I’m glad you started getting your hair braided. I don’t think I could’ve handled the blonde any longer.”

Lewis laughed. “It was a weird phase, I dunno. I think your braids are even nicer than mine.”

“Oh, stop,” you waved him away with a smile. “They’re all frizzy and grown out now.”

The space between his eyebrows creased, and he gave you an earnest look. “You don't have to be fake polite, y'know. It's just me.”

A pit began to form in your stomach, the awkward display at dinner last week returning to you. You looked away and briefly saw your reflection in the window. Heat rushed to your face at the image of your two figures as he drew closer. The image feels right. Like a peek into an alternate timeline where everything went the way you’d planned.

You really shouldn't have, but you turned to face him. He was close enough that you could count every lash and every pore, and see the slight crease between his brows. His eyes were filled with uncertainty, but he leaned in anyway. You didn't move, just closed your eyes.

The kiss was light, exploratory. Testing the waters. Allowing your lips to part, you seemed to give him permission to explore further. When he pulled away he searched your eyes for any sign of apprehension on your part. He found none, which relieved and worried him all at once.

“Before I do anything even more stupid, can I ask you something?”

“Go ahead.”

“Do you…love him?”

You sighed. “Lewis, now is not a good—”

He said your name, gently but firmly, his breath ghosting over your lips.

“I need you to answer me, and answer honestly. No bullshit. The man you're married to.

Do you love him?”

You gnawed on your bottom lip.

I like when he smiles at me like it's the first time we met. I love his compliments when they're soft and genuine. I like running my hands through his hair.

But none of these were the answer to the question.

“No,” you replied so quietly that Lewis had to ask you to repeat it. You shook your head very slowly, and like a doctor delivering bad news, you said it again. “No.”

A stormy expression passed over his features. He appeared to struggle to put his thoughts together, until finally shaking his head and beginning to back away.

“I didn't think so.”

You caught his wrist before he could put any meaningful distance between you, the metal of his watch digging into your palm as you pulled his body flush against yours. Releasing his wrist, you grabbed his face and kissed him desperately, as hard as you could remember how.

He responded just as quickly, grabbing your waist with one hand with the other sliding below it. A breathy moan escaped you when you felt him tighten his grip, hard hands digging into soft flesh.

A flurry of discarded clothing, and soon you were falling back onto the king-sized bed, braids undone from the bun they had been in and spread across the sheets in black rivulets. The quiet air was disturbed only by your gasps and labored breathing.

Because old habits die hard, Lewis had left reddened marks all over your neck, chest, and up your thighs. A red dotted map of everywhere he’d just been. He gazed up at you from between your legs while he planted a kiss on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh.

“D’you still remember the first time I tried to eat you out?”

How could you forget?

“M-hm,” you ran a hand through his soft curls. “Can't say you were the best at it, but it's the thought that counts.”

You felt Lewis laugh against your skin, his lips parting to reveal that adorable gap toothed smile, sharp white canines on full display.

“Fair enough. Let me make it up to you, then.”

He sucked on the spot he'd just kissed, letting his tongue dart out to lick it while he maintained heavy eye contact with you. You looked down with half-lidded eyes and a lazy grin.

“Go on.”

Make it up to you he did. He had your legs trembling within ten minutes, having to hold them up so that they wouldn't collapse onto the mattress. He would not let you come down from the high of your orgasm, lapping up the mess you were making with the flat part of his tongue before going right back to stimulating already-tingling nerves. Your stomach already ached from the muscles squeezing so much, your vision speckled with tiny stars.

After a minute or two, Lewis finally let you breathe. The sound of rushing blood in your ears eventually subsided, and you realized that Lewis was snapping his fingers in front of your face. You furrowed your brows to try and concentrate on the sounds coming out of his mouth.

“...okay? Are you alright? Come back to me, love.”

You blinked once, then twice. “I'm…fine,” you replied, your voice thin. “Better than fine, really.”

You heard soft laughter from above you. “Good to know. You got a bit quiet there. I was worried.”

Lewis’ face shone with what you presumed to be sweat and the results of his hard work, his lips especially shiny as if he'd applied Vaseline to them. They were parted slightly as he released quick, shallow breaths, his tongue swiping over them.

You realized that he had switched on a small bedside lamp while you were still returning to Earth. It cast a warm glow over his features, reflecting in his eyes.

“You're really pretty,” you remarked suddenly, still partially in a daze.

The dimple in Lewis’ cheek made an appearance. “Alright.”

“What? You are.”

“Yeah, yeah. It's getting late,” he dismissed as he adjusted himself to a sitting position on one side of the bed. “I should get you back to your room, unless you wanna take a cab.”

You pouted at him like you were eighteen again.

“That's it?”

Lewis’ brow lifted slightly. “Did you not hear me? It's getting late. As in, ‘Joshua’s gonna be worried about you’ late.”

You sat up, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at the man suddenly regaining a conscience. “Right. I'll see you tomorrow, then?”

Lewis pressed his lips together.

“We shouldn't make this a thing.”

“Tell me you love me.”

Lewis’ breath hit the shell of your ear as he held you against the kitchen counter, his thigh wedged between your legs as he plunged two fingers into you beneath your sundress. Gasping, you had your arms wrapped around his neck with your underwear balled up in one hand.

“I-I love you,” you managed to get out. “So much.”

You heard your phone vibrate beside you and made the mistake of glancing at the screen. It was Josh. “Be there in an hour. Pick a movie ;)”

Lewis grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eye as he hooked his fingers upwards and hit your favorite spot. “Say it like you mean it.”

Torn between figuring out how you were going to get him out of your room unnoticed within an hour and your rapidly approaching orgasm, your voice was crackly and uncertain. So Lewis made you repeat it over and over again as you finished, hips bucking uncontrollably with nowhere to go.

“Lew, he’s gonna be here in an hour,” you attempted to sound assertive, but it came out more like a whine or plea. “We can’t—”

You bit down on your bottom lip to suppress an embarrassing whimper, feeling his palm travel up your thigh to squeeze your ass. He kept holding your chin, an amused grin playing on his face.

“Can’t what?”

Lewis pecked your lips when you fell silent, giving you a small amount of wiggle room so he could turn you around. “Thought so. Bend over.”

Your dress was now hiked up to your waist, and his pants now hung below his. Lewis had a thick gold ring on his pinky finger that dug into your skin just slightly as he wrapped his hand gently around your throat to keep your head up. Your knuckles were beginning to ache with how hard you were gripping the opposite end of the counter. His other hand was still holding your hips, making sure you stayed where you were and keeping your back in an arch. He had pushed so far into you that you felt him pressing against your middle, as if he had entered your stomach. Once in a while, he’d pull out a little farther just to overwhelm you with the additional force, ripping out raspy, broken moans from the depths of your throat.

In between thrusts, you began to wonder how you managed to get Lewis to go this far with you every time. What was it this time? The way you switched your hips whenever he was behind you, or when you sucked on the soft spot behind his ear after telling him you “just wanted to smell his cologne?” Either way, he gave in like he always did.

You rocked on the soles of your feet and pushed back into his hips as if it could make him go any deeper, focusing on nothing else but the warm feeling gathering and releasing from deep within you as you came a second time. Every muscle seemed to contract and shudder at once as your vision went white. You would’ve fallen over if Lewis wasn’t still holding you upright.

“Stay with me love,” he encouraged. His own voice became rough, wavering the more he sped up. “Almost there…”

You clenched around him just as you felt something hot release inside you—it wasn’t certain whether or not it came from you or from him. Judging by both the clear and the milky-white running down your leg after he pulled out, you’d finished at the same time, or something close. The belt buckle hanging from Lewis’ jeans made a clinking sound behind you as he pulled them back up.

After Lewis helped clean you up with a nearby roll of paper towels, your legs nearly gave way beneath you as you struggled to slip your panties back on. Your phone flashed again.

“Joshua gets back in fifteen minutes,” you said breathlessly. “You gotta go.”

He gave you a lopsided grin. “You’re kicking me out? Ouch.”

“I’ll talk to you later. Tonight.”

“Promise?”

You planted a kiss on his cheek. “Promise.”

Just then, the sound of a car honking cuts through the air like a warning signal. Your stomach dropped. You’d know that car horn anywhere. It was your car, after all. Frantically, you unlocked your phone to check the timestamp on Joshua’s second text message. He’d sent it ten minutes ago.

Lewis gave you a worried look. “What’s wrong?”

You began to slip your sandals back on. “He’s here early.”

#lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton x black!reader #lightning writes #lh44 x reader #f1 x reader

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popatochisssp · 2 days ago

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Since, in The Hamper, Mal explains that Monsters can't handle "Red Magic" (which I assume meant Determination since the book showed a picture of a droopy Monster, which we know is what DT does to Monster bodies), and you also explained at some point that the color of a Skeleton's eyelights directly correlates to the color of magic they use, then what color of magic do the Underfell brothers use??? As far as I know, your versions of them exhibit signs of Red magic or red-ish, is that Determination or is that something else? If it is DT, then how are they not going all droopy and drippy like other Monsters that come in contact with DT?

It's red magic that the Underfell brothers use, yeah! And red magic is an infinitely less concentrated version of humans' Determination.

To pull Mal's quote directly out of The Hamper...

"MONSTER BODIES DON’T ALWAYS REACT TO IT WELL IN HIGH QUANTITIES. A FEW STUDIES HAVE BEEN DONE BUT NOTHING PARTICULARLY CONCLUSIVE WAS FOUND. …EXCEPT FOR A CORRELATION OF STABILITY WITH REPORTED LEVELS OF ANGER OR PASSION, AND A FEW OUTLIERS WITH TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCES, ESPECIALLY IN THE FORMATIVE YEARS."

Jasper (Underfell Sans) and Pyre (Underfell Papyrus) fall right into those categories--anger? Absolutely yes. Passion? Definitely! Traumatic experiences in the formative years? Their formative years were traumatic experiences, it was almost nothing but!

It takes a very fiery personality to handle red magic well in high amounts, the passion to find it and tap into it, but also the focus and strength (Determination) to keep from being overwhelmed by it.

For monsters, using red magic is like playing with fire. It's powerful, but it can and will fuck you up if you're not in control of it.

Jasper picked it up when he was a reckless kid who didn't really care whether he lived or died--"dad" said he was weak and needed to get stronger, so fine, he'll do it this way, and if it kills him... Well, that'd throw a wrench in that shit old man's plans, fuck up his day and waste his 'research,' sounds like a win-win.

Obviously, he didn't kick any buckets. Turns out an abused, enslaved teenager full of hate for the prick who made him as nothing more than a science experiment actually had it in him to hold the reins on a fickle thing like red magic... Who knew?

Pyre's motivation to learn to harness red magic was...a lot more innocent.

He only wanted to know it because his big brother did, and he wanted to be just like him.

It's something Jasper regrets risking to this day, actually teaching him and getting him started with that shit. It was one thing to risk his own stupid life, but he never should've let Pyre even think about it, let alone hand him the russian-roulette-pistol himself...

But even back then, Pyre was a persistent little brat, and Jasper never had the stamina for a long fight.

It worked out fine, of course, and Pyre--brimming with passion and righteous fury at the many, many injustices in the world--probably has an even better handle on red magic than Jasper nowadays.

Jasper can concentrate a staggering amount of destructive power in one kill-shot attack, but Pyre can pace himself impressively well, less power per-hit but steadily maintained throughout a fight.

They're a formidable pair when they fight together, but even separately, they can hold their own against just about anything.

Yes, though, they might run into some problems if they ever lost their will to live, their joie de vivre, so to speak. If the Determination in their physical bodies outweighed the determination in their heart, there could definitely be some melting...but as long as they are who they are and can maintain that balance, they'll be just fine.

#sugar-33 #headcanons #underfell #uf!sans #uf!papyrus

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jobob-80 · 2 days ago

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I'm pretty close to the same age as JKR, which means chances are we read similar books growing up, and if you're younger than that you might not know that by and large books for kids and young adults were pretty dire.

I would bet heavily that Rowling read a load of Enid Blyton growing up because that's the sort of school story Enid Blyton did. But Blyton's stories were unapologetically upper middle class to posh - sometimes she tackled the "we're poor now so we're moving to a cottage in the country" but mostly her characters were so comfortably well off that wanting for something just wasn't in their experience. And yes, the Britain in Blyton's stories was white and there was no real representation of any other group in any of the hundreds of stories I read. It was from the fifties.

So actually Harry Potter was kind of a step up from that? The non-white characters were caricatures, but they were there and they previously hadn't been. Meals were cooked by slaves but a character noticed this and cared about it, while I'm not sure a servant in any Enid Blyton book was ever called anything but "Cook". Rowling drew on racial stereotypes but that was how fantasy worked very often, and in the pre-internet era it was far harder to learn about other perspectives. People were genuinely poor or mistreated, something Blyton would never have tackled. And she was writing during the "Section 28" era: if there had been any LGBT+ representation, the book couldn't have been read in schools.

They weren't really ahead of their time, they were very much _of_ their time and it was not a good time for young adult fiction and it was not a good time for representation.

Maybe if she hasn't been radicalised later, we would have learned to see the Harry Potter books much like Enid Blyton's: a limited product of their time, with some interesting stories but portraying an out of date and privileged world view that saturates the text.

It's not the books that are bad. It's the funding transphobia. And that's bad, and honestly as a cis women I'm also not keen on being pushed into a world where I need to get a chromosome test to use the bathroom.

And all that said I don't really want to read anything she writes now either because I'm not sure "written from Voldemort's perspective" is a winning tagline.

ok im going to #seriouspost for a second here. I don't think Harry Potter is a manifesto. I think it was a flawed passion project that millennials latched onto because of the fantasy of sticking it to their mean teachers and arbitrarily categorizing themselves (hogwarts houses; it's the thinking millennial's astrology). I think the fact that the series got popular when and how it did was very much a product of its time.

I don't think Harry Potter is the biggest symbol of JKR's bigotry. I think the most flagrant sign of that was how she responded to critics. I watched her become radicalized in real time. I watched how she doubled down on her racism when she was called out for the ways she promoted her tragically mid fantastic beasts movies. I watched her chase marginalized teenagers with a double digit follower count off of twitter for daring to criticize her thought process, and no one with any kind of power standing against her because she was the one who was paying them. This isn't to say Harry Potter is without flaws. This is to say she really didn't give a shit about that. Getting rich and powerful is a hell of a drug, and she had enough sycophants that she had no reason to care about what her critics were saying.

She was convinced that she was a martyr; a voice for the unheard; a leader for the ages, so of course her detractors were the bad guys. And I think we should take this to heart. We should see this as an example of how easy it is to get radicalized; if you think of yourself as a paragon of virtue, you are going to think that whatever you see as good and right is an objective fact. Most people don't know this, but the majority of terfs start out as trans allies. You are not immune to propaganda! You are not immune to falling into dangerous ideologies!!!

This is why the most important thing you can do as an activist is to listen. Do NOT think you're above being wrong; do NOT develop a god complex; do NOT form an identity out of being right all the time. Involve yourselves in the groups you claim to speak for. Listen to trans women; share resources that help trans women; familiarize yourself with the diversity of experiences that trans people have and the struggles they face.

No, none of you are as bad as JKR because you don't have her money or her power. You will likely never have the capacity for harm she does. But check yourselves. Do not affirm yourselves into thinking you always have the moral high ground. Watch yourselves; humble yourselves; check yourselves for signs of cult behavior and internalized prejudice. You are always learning. You will always be learning. Do not allow yourselves to get a power trip from brushing off marginalized voices.

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miraculouslbcnreactions · 2 days ago

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A note on "Miraculous treads on very much explored territory and still fails epically".

Thomas Astruc used to work (as a crew member, not a leader, but still) on W. I. T. C. H.

Which is:

A magical girl show with team dynamics

A show that mixes episodic and serialized format

A show where two the male romantic interests have a massive role (Caleb is a main character on par with the six girls, and Matt has an epic character arc)

A show with a strong mystery element

A show with manipulative villains (sometimes with schemes reaolved within an episode! And sometimes longer), villains that turn out to be family members, sympathetic villains, loathsome villains... Great, complex villains, almost all of them

A mean girl quasi-redemption arc

A show that does all of the aforementioned elements very well. Also, better diversity despite being 10 years older.

Yet when I watch ML, I see no inspiration (despite many common motifs), no lessons learned, no indication that the lead writer ever got anything from the experience working on that show. Unless the lesson was "W. I. T. C. H. got cancelled after two seasons, so everything about the show was wrong and we should do ML differently".

(Mind you, WITCH got more plot in two seasons than ML did in five, and still wrapped up the story fairly well)

Sorry for the rant. I kinda know that the explanation for "why is ML not like that" is "ML is forced to be an episodic show against its will", but also.

ML is trying very hard to pretend that it's More Than an Episodic Show and Not Only for Kids, and really doesn't measure up with shows with seemingly similar premises.

(Post that inspired this ask)

Before we get into it, if anyone likes fun theme songs and missed the American opening to W.I.T.C.H.'s first season then I have a treat for you!!!

youtube

Top tier opening song! Other countries were robbed!

Anyway, I agree with everything you said and this ask got me curious about the writing staff. I started doing some digging and a lot of them appear to have worked on other shows that would fall with the same genres as Miraculous. Many of those shows were even episodic formula shows that reserved the serialized elements for season finals and specials (looking at you Code Lyoko!) That doesn't shock me, but it does just add to my curiosity as to what the heck is going on with Miraculous.

These aren't new comers to the industry in over their heads, they're established professionals! Why are they struggling so hard to tell a good story while working with an incredibly simple premise? Why are aren't they embracing the show's limits and making it the best it can be in its chosen category? I'd love to know the full story, but alas, I likely never will. My best guess is that commercial success has got to their heads and so they're convinced that any criticism they see can't possibly be valid. At least, that's what the head writer's twitter feed seems to suggest every time I see screen caps from it...

#alexunbroken #ml writers salt

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ct-multifandom · 1 day ago

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The Ruler Reactions

Gay people on national television! This one’s really long. If you read any one thing off this post let it be my analysis of Nath’s bedroom layout. Should I post that on its own, too?

Did they retcon his family to be ginger I’m confused. Oh wait no, I think the dad is, but the mom has brown hair? Curse the way they shade brown hair with orange highlights; it’s confusing, and it doesn’t help that Nath’s hair color right now looks more like his dad’s natural hair than his mom’s.

Nath’s miraculous is like a 〰️ shape

Pinkie Pie ass family dynamic

The dad, who I guess doesn’t have a name yet (?), is giving me basic businessman energy based on his outfit. He has a kind of douchey looking suit and aviator sunglasses

Dude their house is MASSIVE where do they even live?!?!? Is this one of those mansions that’s really far from central Paris? Like holy shit it’s huge and in one of the most expensive locations in the world, too. Is Shirel such a famous and successful architect that she’s that rich, or does the dad maybe have a very high-paying job?

Ew so the dad is one of those “I’m fine with gay people, but not everything has to be gay/ I’m okay with the distant, abstract concept of LGBTQ, but I don’t like to actually see it existing openly irl and deny it could apply to the people close to me” people

Local man prefers nonsensical, out-of-character het ship over well-developed and textually intentional same-sex relationship, hundred dead, thousands injured

Nice to see them making original stories instead of Ladybug rpf

You should talk to your good old pal Marc your buddy your bro

LMAO Marc has the same exact haircut as his mom. How did two boho hipster special brownie recipe Fleetwood Mac vinyl collection parents have such a Hot Topic son? Must be adopted

^ wait actually unironically might he be? I’m taking a closer look, and usually, they give the characters obviously similar features to their parents. His mom might have green eyes, and her mouth and chin shape look like him as well as maybe the ears, and obv they have the same hair texture. I don’t really see anything in common with the dad, though, and neither of their noses look like Marc’s, plus his skin tone is different from both of them and they have thinner eyebrows than him. We don’t know what color the dad’s hair used to be, but Marc clearly didn’t get it from his mom. It could be that the mom is his bio mom, but the dad is a stepdad?

The mom has a skirt with sun patterns and rainbow earrings. Nice to see her supporting her son’s character design motifs. How much do you wanna bet they all have pun names based on the sky like Sol(omon) or Sunny or Luna or Stella? Im putting all my money down, just look at the (a)Couffaines. I’m sure we’ll get more about them in another episode

Everyone’s got their shoes on the couch. Evil

Marc and Nathaniel’s moms would look like Ms Frizzle if they fused together

Marinette reminds me of that one Chris Fleming Gayle skit about cleaning the house. “get rid of the couch. We can’t let people know we sit!”

“I can’t go to school like this!” Because she’s embarrassed about snot and not because she’s ill. Hey Mari remember that time you starred in a COVID-19 PSA? What happened to that, did you learn nothing?

Okay so Diane is literally Nagito Komaeda I see how it is. Write this down for your Danganronpa AUs guys, she’s the ultimate lucky student. Sometimes I think about the early concept where the school they all go to is for elite and talented students… like girl that’s Danganronpa school. And that’s why all the kids are exceptionally good at at least one thing. Diane probably would’ve gotten accepted through some sort of lottery scholarship let’s be real. Side note, I saw the English dub gave her a South African accent which is so cute! They’ve been going off with foreign accents this season in all these different dubs

Marc has a rainbow “lightning bolt” logo of some sort on the back of his shirt

“Probably a jet plane” LMAO

So Marc really does have makeup on just one eye huh. Idk how I feel about that I mean it’s unique and the lightning bolt is kinda cool. I think I would’ve put the makeup and earring on opposite sides because it feels a bit unbalanced.

“It’s as if everything [the heroes] confronted led them to a final revelation” oh Adrien baby you weren’t there for your final revelation

“It’s our story, yours and mine” “it’s more than that, it’s our story, all of us!” Mylene is bi y’all I’ve been saying it. Myvan is bi4bi mark my words. “She’s wearing a pride pin because she’s an ally” you fools, that pin is for HER

To clarify, when she said that ^ I’m pretty sure it meant like the story represents the experiences of all queer people who read it and see themselves in it

Marc’s schoolbag has a tie-dye rainbow flap and the strap is studded like his belt. Nath’s is paint-splattered, and the flap has a comic book POW sunburst with a half-tone pattern and a graffiti tag. Gone are the days of everyone having bags that were the same assets, just randomly recolored in different pastel shades.

“I won’t hold it against you, it won’t change anything between us” <- lying, probably

Genuinely what is Nathaniel doing all day to get paint splatters all over his overalls, shoes, and bag? That’s one character design trope i do not enjoy because it’s so quirky Pinterest art hoe manic pixie dream girl, and it doesn’t even make sense because he’s almost always shown using pen and pencil, markers, and digital media. Show him painting more murals or something to justify this. Or give him a yellow Kanken, a huge reusable water bottle, and a phone case with a famous Impressionist painting on it idk.

^ also knowing how rich his family is now, the whole messy-on-purpose aesthetic is giving Coachella attendee idk like trust fund baby cosplaying as a Home Depot employee. Does this make any sense

Seeing Ziggy participating in all this and Nath asking for her opinion makes it even weirder that Ivan wasn’t talking to Stompp last time. See, Nath and Sabrina are making the most out of their free dogs.

The big nostrils they gave her are kind of distracting, though, and I feel like they make her less cute? If I were to draw a goat from memory I wouldn’t give it particularly large nostrils

He has the Adrienette fairytale AU art above his desk. “Oh Mariknight, we’re really in it now”

More epic art! This is still Avril Circus, right? I guess they really got into the romantasy genre

So obv the knights represent them, but I’m thinking are the helmets supposed to be like fur and feather themed to nod towards their hero designs? Is that a stretch?

“He’d rather lose his powers than his partner” that’s the line of the day right there ^ we are so coming back to that later as it shows how different Marc and Nath as well as Alya and Nino’s priorities are than Marinette’s

“They can’t lose their powers, it’s not fair” oh this is so foreshadowing. It also reminds me of the overarching idea that as a miraculous holder you can kind of just do whatever you want, and that you can create a third outcome instead of choosing between two bad things

Really interesting how Nath’s room is so huge, but only the tiny, hidden-away corner of his desk is decorated or representative of his personality in any way. The rest of the room is neutral and boring like it’s from a real estate catalogue, and is clearly in his mom’s style rather than his own. That shows how controlling she is and how even in his own bedroom the space represents what she wants without considering him. There’s even an abstract painting with harsh black smears and a bunch of eyes on it? It’s like his parents put that up to make him feel like he’s constantly being observed or scrutinized by them even when they aren’t physically there, which follows him away from home as well. Creepy af and reminds me of that one psychology thing where putting up posters of eyes is supposed to deter people from stealing. He has to shove his true self into one little corner as far from the door’s line of sight as possible where he can block what he’s doing with his back.

And this whole “true self vs my parents want me to be a certain way” thing is put in the context of homophobia in this episode, but I think it goes deeper than that. His sexuality and career plan are just two examples in what’s likely a constant stream of “hey you’re not existing correctly please fix that”

When Gabriel Agreste in s4 came out I made a post about the juxtaposed shots of Adrien and Marinette’s scenes with how Adrien’s house is oppressively empty and colorless while Marinette’s bedroom and visit to the art room were colorful, crowded, and filled with details full of personality and warmth. They’re doing it again with Marc and Nathaniel’s houses as a parallel to Marinette and Adrien, and showing us the Mariknight art from that episode solidifies the callback. Even then, despite the rest of the house being cold af, Adrien got to have a bunch of colorful games, music, and a TV in his bedroom even though he didn’t really choose which enrichment got thrown into his enclosure. As far as I can tell, Nathaniel just has art supplies. How is Shirel worse than Gabriel in this regard the bar is in hell

Nath rewrote the ending and Marc liked it better hm. He’s also taking poetry class. Before, Nath said he was bad at writing, but it seems like he’s improving. I wonder if they’re moving in the direction of him making solo comics later on. Not saying he and Marc are gonna stop working together or anything, but Nath wants to do this for a living and we don’t have any indication of what Marc wants to do yet, so there’s a chance comics might be a hobby project for him in the future. By which I mean when they’re adults, not like, later this season.

Nath hid what he was holding as soon as he heard the door that’s a reflex

LMAO they’re referencing the famous “does Adrien smell like cheese” fandom question

Talk about comic relief after all that stuff I just talked about ahaha

I hope the proof poster is gonna be up in the background of Marinette’s room from now on

Ok so they just look through his stuff in his room ok

“I’m okay with gay people as long as that doesn’t include you”

That mindset that you need to have a useful, stable job and make a ton of money and be productive 24/7 is like the Jewish version of the stereotypical “why no A+” Asian parents it’s like “you’re gonna pay our bills when we’re old, right? Why are you slacking off then, why no doctor or lawyer or business executive?”

Girl she threw that entire thick ass packet in the shredder with the BINDER CLIPS still on it?!? What kind of diamond drill bits are built into that thing

Oh hi Fred

First time a side character is abusing their powers for something stupid. I hope this won’t be a problem for him in the future,,, he’s a bit too casual about running around and transforming for personal reasons

Reverser callback, Nathaniel is once again doing destructive bullshit in the heat of the moment that will harm everyone involved instead of doing anything rational

No Alix for him to talk about his feelings with this time though :( when will platonic wife come home from the war

Thinking about that one analysis post I read that was posted forever ago where OP theorized/headcanoned that he has BPD you were so real for that

That was like a bajillion dollars worth of printer ink, rich kid

Maybe you should’ve talked to Marinette before going to school…

“So you were the jet plane?” Lmao

“Comic books are so you” “you’re only saying that because it’s all I’ve ever done” I mean he’s not exactly wrong about that. I don’t think he’s been shown to have any hobbies or specific skills outside of art

“Please respect my choice” callback to Penalteam when he said no to the miraculous and she was like… ok here it is anyway, see you at the akuma battle in five minutes

Aw that hug was sweet. Me personally though, I wouldn’t hug someone with a red nose and puffy eyes who just sneezed through the sound barrier moments ago. Lila wins by default because the whole team gets incapacitated by The Plague.

My “friend”

New teacher just dropped! The gardening teacher has flowers in her hair and patched up knees on her overalls cute

“I didn’t know tomatoes cry when you cut them” yes Nathaniel is very sad right now

Strike two of Nath making Marc cry, thin fucking ice

I need to know more about this academic vampire coven. There’s the poetry teacher and… maybe a school nurse? Both with bat accessories. Putting punk spikes all around the handles of a wheelchair is crazy btw. “Help me with my wheelchair, but also it’s a torture device. If you say no you’re ableist”

“If they were real art they’d be in the louvre” girl is YOUR art in the louvre, huh?

“Comics (allegory for being gay) aren’t real art” ma’am the entire LGBTQ community is currently looking down and watching you from the balconies

How are you homophobic while wearing quirky miniature-object earrings that represent what your job is, that’s a lesbian symbol

Also your son looks like if a man and a woman had a baby so this is your fault

Ok forcefully dragging him by the forearm

Very interesting that Lila didn’t attempt to akumatize Nathaniel during his breakdown but waited for his mom to get more upset,,, will expand on this later

“I’ll give you the power to literally put your kid through instant conversion therapy! It’s gonna work this time.” Wtfffff also the extremely blatant villain name pun is kind of lost in English

Marc has broken the fourth wall a couple times, he knows he has enough plot armor to jump a supervillain without transforming and not get seriously injured

Transformation! His design eats so hard I’m obsessed, and he’s skipping around like a baby goat. The spiky parts of his hair on the sides kind of look like floppy goat ears and the back of his jacket ends in a little white triangle hanging out that looks like a tail :)

How was he doing all that in that tiny closet? *onlooker sees the closet rattling violently and the legs of a poorly made 3D model clipping in and out of it* and yeah yeah he’s done hiding busting out of the literal closet yeah

I do appreciate a teen coming out story where the character is fully aware of their sexuality beforehand btw. None of that “b-but we’re both boys 🥺” trope just a guy who is openly bi and dating a boy at school but has to hide it at home

Ok this is so nit picky but I do wish they did something to suggest he is bisexual in this episode. Totally understandable to focus on mlm relationships, but I see what I imagine are young kids on the insta side of the fandom get confused about season 1 and assume he “became” gay, or I guess had massive comp-het idk. They might be reinforcing that idea here. I hope there’s something later on at least, like that time Rose joked about kissing both Mari and Adrien.

“I need to find my son” I already found MY son get away from him

Bro thinks he’s Splatoon

Those markers cost also a bajillion dollars. I mean they’re like magically generated so I guess it doesn’t count but still. Also are they… just regular art supplies he’s using or are they real weapons that look like art supplies because his power can’t make magical objects. If he’s just launching plastic rectangles at an armored knight that’s not very effective

Love the cunty Bayonetta style kick from chat noir

I guesssss it makes sense why Lila wants to turn CN on LB and get him to bring both the miraculous but like,,, you’re better off asking him to give you his ring first and then go after LB yourself whether you get her or not

This is the part of the episode where the hero explains what’s going on between them and the villain very explicitly in case you didn’t get it yet

Phew good thing mind control victims will respond to anyone’s orders

“Adrien is gonna have a villain arc” well it just happened and it’s that he turned into an Axe body spray boy

Oh what the fuck why is Lila calling out Nathaniel by full government name that’s creepy. Is she onto him for potentially being a superhero? Tbf he did transform twice in front of huge windows. And he stuck to the artist shtick a little too hard. If she suspects him then she’s not entirely sure yet? To expand on stuff from earlier, in Daddycop, she tried to akumatize Sabrina after she ran away crying, but didn’t do the same to Nathaniel even though he was arguably more upset. In El Toro de Piedra, there was a suspicious figure stalking Ivan, but I didn’t notice anyone like that here. In both those episodes, she didn’t say anything specific about Sabrina nor Ivan, so what’s going on in this one? Perhaps she was watching him in the scene where he went to destroy the prints?

Another episode where the shitty parents become niceys at the end. Please don’t let them magically be perfect form now on nor Raul nor Emile, let them suck a little but try to be nicer

Ah so the rewritten ending is that the sun and rain knights don’t lose their powers, but combine to create a new power of rainbow? Also mlm on screen kiss but it’s not between real characters. Fair enough, I don’t think this is an appropriate time for a marcnath kiss

There’s something to be said about how wlw relationships are seen as less threatening than mlm in media like girls kissing can be brushed off as cutesy but boys kissing is seen as a weird kink thing, like how the dad was saying mlm romance isn’t deep and sentimental unlike straight romance. In TV-Y7 cartoons in general there have been a good handful of iconic canon wlw moments, but I can’t think of any mlm equivalents other than minor side characters that barely do anything or like, older men who are also background characters and have no romantic subplot because they’re long time partners. In this show they’ve created an in-universe justification for why Marc and Nath are less open about their relationship, but they still continue to be censored far more heavily than Julerose, Zoe, or Caline and Giselle.

Shoes on the BED broooo if Sublime can have four different hairstyles in one episode they can make the characters take their shoes off okay

I love the physics on Marc’s dangly earring

Let’s talk about rampant homophobia and hate crimes but use nerdy fantasy metaphors for plausible deniability

Awwwww they’re so cute

YOOO Marc’s disguised miraculous has a cutout design in it like the one in a calligraphy pen that’s cool

REVEAL Nath was gonna be bisexual but not eat hot chip nor lie. This will soooo come back later. When Nino did it, it didn’t exactly have humongous consequences? I mean kind of but not in any way that endangered him nor Alya. That’s what I was saying earlier that Nino and Nath value their relationships more than being a hero. The trouble here is that Lila is being really ominous about Nath, he has a track record of impulsively doing bad things, and he’s recklessly transformed a couple times in this ep alone, so this is… concerning but also cute? And since the comic represents them, instead of giving up their powers after a reveal they’re gonna combine them and make them stronger?

People have been saying there’s gonna be a Myvan one too because of the intro and yeah I agree. Probably even more, like I can’t imagine Luka and Juleka can hide it for long. Marinette will realize that nobody thinks lying to their friends and partners is sustainable. She values being a hero over her relationship because she feels responsible for everything. Like she can’t just quit her job and get replaced at this point, she needs to protect the whole city/world and to her, that’s bigger than her personal life.

Interesting that they’re obscuring Marc’s transformation. Does that suggest his episode is after this? It’s not like it’s a spoiler, we already know what he looks like. Dramatic effect ig. Marc was generally very mature throughout this ep tho, and he jumped into the fight to protect Nath, so idk maybe it came first

Lila already knows who most of the heroes are, but not them. There’s a good chance she will find out and use it against them in the endgame. She does know about Alya and Nino. I predicted after Daddycop that Sabrina might fly under her radar the longest and be key in tricking her a second time.

Important edit: I just noticed the spiderverse-esque comic book effects in his transformation sequence, that’s actually sick. It’s so blink and you’ll miss it and by god I missed it the first time. Nathaniel Kuntzerve or whatever his name is. The goat, like literally

Unimportant edit: it finally hit me who Nath’s dad reminded me of and why he felt so familiar. It’s goddamn Tighten from Megamind. “There is no audience for your comic book, there is no tooth fairy, and there is no Queen of England”.

Wow that took me so long to write in actually almost glad there’s a hiatus now! (Not actually I’m joking) :((( it’s ok tho. Gay people in my phone

#miraculous ladybug #ml #ml spoilers #the ruler #nathaniel kurtzberg #marc anciel #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #lila rossi #sabrina raincomprix #that’s enough tags for today I’m tired #I fear I ate that room analysis and the parallel it has to the Gabriel Agreste episode #that shit made my stomach drop a little when I noticed it

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 2 days ago

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A symptom of this I often see is that a great many Americans also feel the need to highlight to the entire world around them when something they encounter is Other, or outside of their wheelhouse, and this applies even to the most mundane of things. I have two examples of this:

First, back in 2020, a lost walrus visited the Welsh town of Tenby for many weeks and menaced its lifeboats by sleeping on the slipway. I wrote a lengthy post about this, and included the fact that the good folks of West Wales named the walrus Wally, after the children's book franchise Where's Wally.

I was inundated with Americans reacting with everything from astonishment to derision that the character is not called Waldo outside of America. It was constant. Everything from "Wait you guys call him Wally??? Not Waldo???" all the way to "Are you guys fucking stupid his name is Waldo omg"

Which is very interesting, because Where's Wally is a British franchise. He was called 'Wally' first. His name was translated into over 30 other languages, including Charlie and Jonas, depending on region. Nonetheless, I did not get one single solitary note about the name from anyone else; it was exclusively Americans, unable to keep their amazement to themselves, unable to not highlight and point out that SOMETHING IS DIFFERENT FROM US.

Second, I once wrote a post in which I, a speaker of British English, used the word 'gaol' - the BE spelling of 'jail'. Again, I was flooded with comments, asks, messages, etc from Americans who simply could not fathom why I had done so. Four of them very literally sent me asks that asked why I had done it (I mean this literally - "Why did you spell jail like that?" was word for word one of the asks), so unable were they to work out on their own that spellings differ between dialects. I responded to one, saying that I was baffled by it, and suggesting that maybe the polite thing would be to google these sorts of things for yourself rather than requesting to have your hand held through the process of learning that other places have different words and spellings than you're used to. I said I did understand, but that this was something I myself fetched up against all the time with American media, and had since I was a child - but I simply used context clues to work out meaning, or google when I couldn't, because I get that American English is a different language.

And then two things happened: the first was that a non-trivial number of Americans lost their entire shit at the very suggestion that there was anything at all rude about this (again, I really don't know what answer they wanted to that beyond "Because that's how it's spelled in my language", information readily available with a single google search), and the second was that I was then inundated with non-Americans sharing stories of how they love writing fanfic but they had to start doing it in American English because when they used their own, they would get flooded with comments from Americans trying to 'correct' them, and it just wasn't worth the hassle.

And it's ultimately a 'dominant culture' sickness, I think. When everything is constantly catering to your understandings and cultural expectations, anything outside of it feels Other, and Must Be Commented Upon. I'm Welsh, and I find absolutely any mention of anything Welsh around most English people gets the same reaction; they absolutely have to comment on the Thing They Think Is Weird. Just last week I was discussing a fieldtrip for my students with an English colleague of mine, and I said I was taking them to the Bannau Brycheiniog. He didn't interrupt, to his credit; but he got the stupid grin that I knew meant he was going to comment. He waited until I finished asking for his risk assessment input, and then rather than answering, his first response was "The Bah Bah Bluh Bluh?"

If I'd said an Anglicised or English name, he'd have just continued the conversation. But he didn't recognise the name Bannau Brycheiniog. So We Must All Flag Up That It's Weird.

And that's dialled up to 11 for a great many Americans.

(Though not all, by a long shot. I do want to stress that. In both examples I've given, I had far more Americans who agreed with me than not. But it is a common behaviour, unfortunately.)

im american and i knew that like in kindergarten so i think some of you are just stupid sorry

#usia #long post

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aquamarinemarie · 2 days ago

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Regarding Their Deepest Fears

I heard/researched all of Nightmare's taunts and learned one thing... that the grand fear demon is one sassy bitch.

Nightmare to the Inquisitor

Nightmare: Ah, we have a visitor. Some foolish little boy/little girl comes to steal the fear I kindly lifted from his/her shoulders. You should have thanked me and left your fear where it lay, forgotten. You think that pain will make you stronger? What fool filled your mind with such drivel? The only one who grows stronger from your fears is me. But you are a guest here in my home, so by all means, let me return what you have forgotten.

Nightmare to Hawke

Nightmare: Did you think you mattered, Hawke? Did you think anything you ever did mattered? You couldn't even save your city. How could you expect to strike down a god?

(Romanced) (Name of love interest) is going to die, just like your family, and everyone you ever cared about. (Romanced Sebastian/No Romance) You're a failure, and your family died knowing it.

Diplomatic Hawke: Of course, a fear demon would know where to hurt us most. We must ignore it. Humorous Hawke: Well, that’s going to grow tiresome quickly. Aggressive Hawke: I’m going to enjoy killing this thing.

Alistar (Theirin)

Nightmare: Did the king's bastard think he could prove himself? It's far too late for that. Your whole life you've left everything to more capable hands. The Archdemon, the throne of Ferelden… Who will you hide behind now? Alistar: Is that all it's got? I've heard worse than that from Morrigan.

Loghain Mac Tir

Nightmare: Teyrn Loghain Mac Tir, the brilliant commander. Pity the one time you tried to rule, you failed so miserably. You had to be beaten, humiliated, lest you destroy your own country. You even doomed the Wardens by bringing the Inquisitor down on them. You destroy everything you touch. Loghain: (Grunts.) Is that all you've got? It's nothing I've not said to myself.

Jean-Marc Stroud

Nightmare: Warden Stroud. How must it feel to devote your whole life to the Wardens, only to watch them fail? Or worse, to know that you were responsible for their destruction? When the next Blight comes, will they curse your name? Stroud: With the Maker's blessing, we will end this wretched beast.

Blackwall (Thom Rainier)

Nightmare: Ah, there’s nothing like a Grey Warden. And you are nothing like a Grey Warden. Blackwall: I’ll show you a Warden’s strength, beast.

Cassandra Allegra Portia Calogera Filomena Pentaghast

Nightmare: Your Inquisitor is a fraud, Cassandra. Yet more evidence there is no Maker, that all your “faith” has been for naught. Cassandra: Die in the Void, demon.

Cole

Nightmare: Are you afraid, Cole? I can help you forget. Just like you help other people. We’re so very much alike, you and I. Cole: No.

Dorian Pavus

Nightmare: Greetings, Dorian… It is Dorian, isn’t it? For a moment, I mistook you for your father. Dorian: Rather uncalled for.

Iron Bull

Nightmare: The Qunari will make a lovely host for one of my minions. Or maybe I will ride his body myself. Iron Bull: I’d like to see you try.

Sera

Nightmare: Sera, Sera, Sera… If you shoot an arrow at me, I’ll know where you are. Sera: Out of my head, bitch-balls!

Solas (Fen'Harel)

Nightmare: Dirth ma, harellan. Ma banal enasalin. Mar solas ena mar din. Solas: Banal nadas.

Nightmare Translation: Dirth ma, harellan. (I know you, trickster.) Ma banal enasalin. (Your victory was no triumph.) Mar solas ena mar din. (Your pride/triumph will be your end.) Solas Translation: Banal nadas. (Nothing is inevitable.)

Varric Tethras

Nightmare: Once again, Hawke is in danger because of you, Varric. You found the red lyrium. You brought Hawke here… Varric: Just keep talking, Smiley.

Vivienne de Fer, First Enchanter of Montsimmard

Nightmare: What’s it like living as an apostate, Vivienne? Do you really think you’ll reclaim your power in the Circle… at your age? Vivienne: Not one word.

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 days ago

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Hey Raven, is there any info about Merfolk/Coral Sea performances? Such as concerts, theatre, anything like that.

Personally i only saw Floyd mentioning that "underwater concerts are boring" in his lesson chats, i think? But i am really new to twst and i do not know a lot of things sadly😭

But considering that Little Mermaid is a musical, and in the film they actually did sang a song with Ariel's sisters for a bday or something, i feel like there might be more information that i just never saw(Which is fully possible because i am really bad at doing research😭).

I am searching Coral sea info for my Octavinelle Oc, who is a Shark merman who is obsessed with performances, but i didn't saw a lot of info about specifically this part, so im asking it. :3

Also in case there is any information about Sharks in Twst i would ABSOLUTELY gobble it up, but considering we never saw(or at least i think we never did) a Shark merfolk(or any shark tbh), i am really not sure if there is a lot of Shark info to even search for. Floyd did said in his lesson chat that Sharks exist, i guess, and that "you should hope they see you as a friend and not food" but i am pretty sure it won't get any further than that😭

I apologize if you do have a post about it already, i just didn't saw it, and i think not a lot of people are interested in knowing that part of Coral Sea, but in case there is, sorry🥺

P.S. Your posts are amazing and they helped me A TON when creating my OC, especially the Coral sea theories and info, SO HELPFUL!!! GIANT THANKS FOR YOUR SERVICE!!!! :333

Here's what I was able to find regarding concerts, music, composers, and other related performances in the Coral Sea or for merfolk:

In Lost in the Book with Nightmare Before Christmas, Azul indicates that, in the Coral Sea, music is considered very important in creating an atmosphere.

Merfolk sing songs and create music together for a variety of reasons: to celebrate holidays, to express their love to their significant others, or to simply just enjoy the ocean.

Music is such a huge aspect of merpeople culture that even the flippant Floyd says that he feels like he has to put in at least a little effort for it.

Perhaps music's importance to merpeople is why Azul suggests gifting a song to Noble Bell College in Malleus's Masquerade Dress vignettes--although the reason Azul cites in the vignettes is because a song is very cost effective.

It seems that there is an assumption by humans that all merpeople are great singers, but a museum guard in book 3 says it's an "urban legend" and that tone-deaf merpeople exist.

Floyd isn't a big fan of the concerts held back home, stating that all the songs sounded the same.

Floyd explored with many brass instruments to pass the time, and is now able to play any of them with ease.

Floyd has also played the drums in the middle school band he used to have with Jade (on contrabass) and Azul (on piano).

Jade has also played the flute when visiting Harveston, though he is not very skilled at it.

In Rook's Halloween Dress vignettes, we learn about Granchio IV, who is described as having "bright red claws". (This is probably twisted!Sebastian, seeing as we see the original animated Sebastian in paintings in some Platinum Jackets yet he is not acknowledged or identified as Granchio IV by the NRC students.)

This composer lived ~3 centuries ago and was the Coral Sea's finest court musician. However, he lost his position due to a scandal at a concert. (This is most likely referring to when Sebastian got in trouble for Ariel not showing up for a concert to perform with her sisters.)

Granchio IV was soon hired as the first foreign conductor for the Shaftlands Philharmonic Orchestra.

His "Undersea Hymn" is still very famous, even in modern day Twisted Wonderland. Rook states that classical music such as this is his favorite, and that he has worn out his concert CD from having listened to Undersea Hymn so many times.

Twst hasn't spoken of shark merpeople in detail. Floyd mentions sharks in a Chat (in the context of sunken ships being shark lairs)... He does frequently mention sunken ships at other points (Halloween Dress vignette, Birthday Boy vignettes, etc.) but doesn't bring up the sharks again in this context. The only other time I can recall sharks being mentioned in Jade's Platinum Jacket vignettes; he says that a group of sharks failed to keep their promise, and so he had to punish them.

You honestly don't need to count on canon to give you lore on something so specific to work with though (be it shark stuff or music stuff). An OC is your own creation and meant to be played with for fun, so just go wild and do whatever you think best suits the character! You can also just headcanon whatever you want, there's no shame in that.

I hope that helps ^^ Thank you for enjoying my stuff and appreciating my efforts, and happy creating!

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angeliteeyes · 2 days ago

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Ganyu x Demon Reader

''I'll be a good demon for you''

Your boss wants you to get off your ass and be evil. Unfortunately for them, you can't be bothered. That is, until they offer you a special reward. Now determined, you wander around Liyue looking for someone to possess and happen upon a sweet blue-haired girl being mistreated.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"Listen up. We need you all to start taking your job more seriously. None of you have accomplished anything at all! No possessions, no curses, no contracts... the only thing you've accomplished is being nuisances and a pain in my ass."

You yawned widely as your boss continued to ramble. Personally, you couldn't care less about their mission to reinstate demonkind or whatever. What's the point of worrying about lame stuff like that? They didn't even pay you for all the overtime they'd been demanding... not that you would do the extra work even if they did.

"It would appear that some of you need a stronger incentive to do your job. With that in mind, we've prepared a surprise for you." Your boss reached into one of their pockets and pulled out a small vial. In seconds, the entire room full of codemonworkers sprang to life, though you didn't understand why yet. Murmurs spread around the room.

"Is that..."

"No way!"

"I haven't had any in 2000 years!"

"As some of you might recognize, this is what humans refer to as 'sugar', one of the greatest delicacies ever invented. All of you have the opportunity to receive one vial of sugar—if you commit at least one successful demonic act by the end of the month."

Groans echoed in the room as insults and complaints were thrown around. Was this 'sugar' really that good...? It had to be, based on how everyone around you was acting, right?

Damn. Time to do actual demon stuff, you guess.

With that said, your list of ideas for what to do was pretty small. Curses would be cool, if you actually ever bothered to learn any. Haunting somebody wouldn't work; you'd need to actually give a fuck about wanting to hurt them, or else the bad vibes wouldn't be strong enough. So, that leaves... huh.

You'd never tried possession before, but according to what you've heard, even the least skilled of demons can do it if they try their best. You won't, of course, but surely you can pull it off anyway.

"Do you have any idea how busy I am, Ganyu? I've got a date right after this and I haven't even gotten ready yet! Seriously, you can be so lazy sometimes."

As you traveled around Liyue, you spotted two women. One was the voice's owner who kept shrieking loudly. The other, a small blue-haired girl, shrank into herself further and further with each round of beratement. Intrigued, you slinked your incorporeal form closer.

"I-I don't think I'm—"

"God, just shut up already. Here's the paperwork you need to get done by tomorrow. Do you hear me? To-mo-rrow." You observed as the rude one shoved a stack of papers onto her so harshly that it nearly pushed her over. Damn. Despite the expectations of your boss and the public, your heart went out to the poor girl. Ganyu, was it? If anyone could understand how frustrating pushy coworkers were, it would be you.

Welp. Time for demon stuff.

"You better not turn it in late, got i—mrfph!" You instinctually pushed the girl's soul down, making room for yourself. All of a sudden, a cacophony of distorted senses rushed through you. Was this how possessing someone was supposed to feel like? It seemed... off, somehow.

"...are you... okay?" A faint voice pulsed in your brain. Oh, right, the girl. You had nearly forgotten about her with all the chaos. Taking a few deep breaths, you attempted to pull yourself together.

"Ah... yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry." You smiled at her. At least, you think you did. Possessions are way harder than everyone made them out to be.

"I uh, I changed my mind. You don't have to do the paperwork, okay? Hand it back to me." As much as you tried to sound natural and mimic the real woman's tone, this was getting super draining for you already. You had to get out of here fast.

"No, I don't mind. Really, I'll take care of it, so go get some rest. You don't... look well. Should I walk you home?"

"What?" Her concern bewildered you. Didn't you literally just hear this woman get insulted and treated like trash? You'd never do any favors for someone like that, that's for sure.

"No, that's not right. If someone's rude to you, you're supposed to be rude back."

Now it was her turn to be confused. Despite your sincerity with those words, it must sound kind of weird coming from the very person who was being mean just moments before. You squinted at her.

"Just give them back. Please."

"No, I—"

"Please." Sweat dripped down your shivering skin. Even with your inexperience with possessions, one thing was clear; you were running out of time. Fast. Your vision was already hazy and growing duller and duller by the second. In a desperate attempt to conclude your evening's adventure, you reached out to grab the papers yourse

. . . H u h ? . . .

. . . I ' m s o . . .

. . . C o l d . . .

"Can you hear me?"

. . . C o l d . . .

"■■■? Can you hear me?"

. . . W h o ? . . .

"Here, drink this."

. . . You felt something unidentifiable press on your lips. Barely processing her words, you obeyed.

It wasn't long before the blurry veil covering your vision lifted. Finally capable of thinking clearly, you looked around at your surroundings. Somehow, your body must've sunk down to the ground, seeing as you were now leaned against a nearby wall. Ganyu sat directly across from you. Her hands still held the cup you'd drunk out of, and inside it was some sort of weird, orange liquid.

She looked at you with sympathetic eyes. "I had a feeling your blood sugar was low. Thank goodness I happened to have this leftover."

Blood sugar? What the hell was that? And more importantly... why was that drink the best damn thing you've ever tasted?

"Oh, uh, thanks. What exactly is that stuff?" You lifted a finger to point at the glass. Her head tilted to the side.

"Orange juice, why? I can get you something else sugary if you'd prefer."

"Wait wait wait, you're telling me you have sugar here?!" Rapidly losing any concern about disguising yourself, you rushed forward and leaned in close to the girl in overwhelming excitement. Her cheeks flushed red at your proximity, before she began to stutter out a response.

"Well, y-yes? You're acting a bit strange, are you—oh!" Her response was interrupted as you pulled her tightly into a hug, nestling your face into the crook of her neck. Your bodies rubbed against each other and your warmths mixed together, furthering your current bliss.

"Pleaaaaase please please sign a contract with me! I promise I'll treat you well and take care of any meanies that get in your way. Just let me stay by your side and have more of that sugar thing, okay? Pretty please?" You could feel her squirm under you as her breath hit the side of your neck.

Oh, wait. You're still possessing that girl, aren't you? Better change into your real form and introduce yourself.

"Ahem, let me start over. The name's [Redacted], and starting now, I'll be your demon pal! I just need you to sign this form right here and we'll be good to go." You hummed to yourself with pride. Look at you, being so productive (for once in your demon life). Surely, this was a foolproof plan.

Except she's not responding. Peering down at her, you notice abruptly how wide her eyes are.

"A... demon? But I thought they all went extinct."

"Ohhhh, that. Yeah, I don't get it either. My dumb boss brought a bunch of us back somehow and keeps trying to make us work. Can you believe that? Here I was, having a cozy afterlife nap, and all of a sudden I'm being bossed around by some nobody! Ridiculous." You huffed to yourself.

Ganyu lifted her hand over her lips pensively, looking deep in thought. "I see, so that's the situation. But why did you come here and do... all of this?" She motioned to the now-unconscious woman you had been possessing prior.

"Ummm, because she was being rude? Nobody deserves to have extra work pushed on them like that. That's just cruel." A pouty expression crossed your face, both at the reminder of the mean woman and your work.

"I... see. Um, forgive me for saying this, but I've only heard of demons being, ah, unkind people before. Are you perhaps different from the others?" She peered up at you with her purple eyes.

You scratched the back of your ear. "I don't know. None of us like this new boss guy, so we haven't been exactly doing real demon stuff. Before today, of course." A thought bubbled up in your head.

"Hey, Ganyu?"

"Yes?"

"If I behave and act good and not demony, will you let me stay with you?" As you spoke, you crouched back down to get closer to her, eventually resting on her lap. Once again, your bodies pressed together. You hadn't had any real experience with this physical contact thing before, but it felt good. Addicting, even.

"Oh, uh, I..." Your eyes locked with one another's, energy buzzing in the air. "I suppose that's alright?"

Your face lit up with excitement. Finally, you'd be able to get away from stupid work and have a happy, simple life—with plenty of sugar, of course. Now, what's that thing you've seen humans do sometimes? They get close then...

"Thank you, Ganyu! I promise I'll be a good demon for you." Mimicking human behavior you've seen before, you pushed your lips onto hers. It felt warm, soft, and like nothing you've experienced before. Like a home you'd never had, and one you'll never let go of.

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #ganyu #genshin ganyu #ganyu x reader #ganyu x you #demon reader

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serveandchoke · 3 days ago

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Everything has changed

Jannik Sinner x Reader

Synopsis: You're the girl next door, foreign, and out of place. But you meet the red-headed boy from the house next to yours and changes your life.

a/n: 2/3 fics :p im so soo sorry for making u guys wait, tourney has been unforgiving and it's hard balancing activities hahaaa but yeah after my tournament i got to go to madrid and see matches happen in real time so yeah.. but i kinda wished jannik was playing, i miss him. BUTTT we get to see him again in a few weeks and i cannot wait for that. alright enough oversharing hope u enjoy this fic!!!🤍🤍

It all started when you moved to Italy. You were just a kid, barely twelve, when your family decided to make the move from your home country to Jannik’s small hometown of San Candido. At the time, it felt like an impossible adjustment, a different world filled with strange customs, a new language, and people who all seemed so far ahead in their lives. But there was one constant that kept you grounded: Jannik Sinner.

He was thirteen, just a year older than you, but he made everything feel easier. He was quiet, a little reserved, yet incredibly kind. His smile was rare but always genuine, and it seemed like he always knew how to make you feel at ease, even in the most foreign of settings. He spoke in his thick Italian accent, which at first was hard for you to understand, but soon enough, you’d learned his words as if they were your own.

The two of you were inseparable. Every afternoon, after school, you'd both ride your bikes through the winding streets, exploring the beautiful town together, laughing over things that seemed silly to everyone else. It wasn’t long before you realized you had developed an undeniable bond with Jannik. The friendship blossomed naturally, and you never thought twice about it, he was just the boy you grew up with. The boy who always made you feel like you belonged.

By the time you were sixteen, something in Jannik changed. You could feel it before he even said it, before you even understood it fully. You’d noticed the subtle shifts in the way he looked at you, the way his hand would brush yours when you walked side by side, the way his smile became a little warmer every time he saw you. The small things that shouldn’t have meant anything, yet they did. But you were too caught up in your own world, high school, your family, your plans, to pay much attention to it.

“Hey, I’ve been thinking,” Jannik said one evening, the two of you sitting on a grassy hill overlooking the town. He was staring at the sunset, but you could see the tension in his jaw, his lips pressed together like he had something heavy on his mind.

“About what?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to read him. You could tell something was different in the way he spoke. It wasn’t the usual carefree Jannik who would joke around and tease you.

“I’ve been thinking about tennis,” he said, his voice low, almost hesitant, like he wasn’t sure whether he should say it or not. “About how... I might want to take it seriously, go pro. You know, travel the world and all that.”

It wasn’t a surprise. He was already exceptional at tennis, the best player in town by far. You’d always known he had potential, but the weight of it hit you when he spoke those words aloud. He had always been so grounded, so humble about his talent, and now, you could see the pressure in his eyes.

"That’s... that’s really amazing, Jannik, you should go for it. I mean, whatever you feel like what works for you, you know?" you said, trying to sound as supportive as you could. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. The thought of him leaving, leaving everything behind, was too much to process.

His eyes flicked to you, reading your expression, shaking his head. “I’m not sure if I’m ready to leave here, though,” he said quietly, as though he were confessing something. “I don’t want to leave you.”

The way he said that made your heart race. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The moment stretched on, both of you sitting there in the silence, but the air was different now, charged with something unspoken. Something you didn’t know how to name, and neither did he.

But the day came, and Jannik left for the big leagues. It wasn’t a grand goodbye, just a quiet one. You clung to him, as if it was the last because this was the last you'd be having this. Having him. "I'll miss you." You'd say, swallowing the tears back. "I'll miss you even more," He'd press a kiss to your temple, and you'd pretend it meant something to him. Because it did to you, and maybe, it meant something to him too.

You watched him go, as he stepped onto the plane to begin his journey. And you stayed behind, your world still in San Candido, your heart feeling the loss more than you ever expected.

Years passed. You focused on your studies, diving into your work, pushing through medical school. You had dreams of becoming a doctor, helping athletes, but every now and then, Jannik’s face would flash in your mind. It wasn’t often, but it was enough for you to realize that part of you still held onto him, even from afar. You followed his career, of course. Everyone did. He became one of the best players in the world, and with every victory, you felt a mixture of pride and ache. He had become everything you had always known he could be. And as much as you tried to ignore it, you couldn’t deny that you missed him.

By the time you were twenty-four, you had finished your medical degree and started working as a sports doctor, focusing on athletes. The job was demanding, but it was everything you had ever wanted. And yet, no matter how busy you were, the thought of Jannik lingered at the edges of your thoughts. You had moved on, in a sense, built your life around your goals and your work. But Jannik’s absence, the loss of that connection, still weighed on you.

Then, one day, it happened.

You were working at the clinic, reviewing a new athlete’s file when you heard the familiar voice. At first, you thought you were imagining it. But when you looked up, there he was. Jannik Sinner, standing in the doorway of your office, wearing that familiar smile that sent a warm rush of nostalgia through your veins.

It took a moment for your brain to process it all. He had grown taller, his body more defined, his face sharper. But his eyes, those deep blue eyes, were still the same. They were the same eyes that had watched you grow up, the same eyes that held secrets in them when you were younger, when you were both too scared to admit what you had.

“Jannik?” You blinked, unsure if you were dreaming.

He chuckled, a low, familiar sound. “It’s really you. I wasn’t sure if you’d be here.”

The warmth in his voice made your heart flutter. You hadn’t realized how much you had missed it, missed him, until now. “What are you doing here?” you asked, standing up from behind your desk, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of him.

“I’m here for a check-up,” he said with a shrug, as though it was no big deal. “You’re working as a doctor for athletes now, no?”

You nodded, trying to steady your breath. “Yeah, I’m actually the team doctor for some of the tennis players now.” You gestured to the seat across from you. “You can take a seat.”

Jannik did, sitting casually across from you, his posture relaxed as always. But even now, you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw, the way his eyes searched your face, like he was trying to figure something out. Something important.

“How’s everything?” you asked, trying to sound casual, but you couldn’t help the flutter in your chest. He was here. After all these years, he was here.

He smiled, and for a second, you swore you saw a flicker of something more than just friendship in his eyes. “It’s good. You look good, too. You’ve really grown up.”

You laughed softly, nervously. “Well, I did go to med school, so... there’s that.”

The conversation shifted easily from there, but beneath the surface, something had changed. You both had changed. Jannik, the young boy who had once been your best friend, had become a man. A man you couldn’t deny you still had feelings for. And as you talked about everything that had happened since you last saw each other, you realized something. Something that had been building for years. This wasn’t just a reunion. This was fate pulling you back together, as if it was always meant to be.

As Jannik stood to leave, he turned to you with a look that was both familiar and new. “It was good seeing you again,” he said, his smile lingering a little longer than necessary. “Maybe... we can catch up more? Off the clock?”

Your heart raced as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. But you didn’t need to. His smile said everything.

And just like that, everything had changed.

#forza jannik #jannik sinner #jannik sinner imagine #jannik sinner x reader #jannik sinner imagines #jannik sinner smut #jannik sinner x you #jannik x you #tennis #tennis fic #rose writes #a taylor swift song fic cs i can #Spotify

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swtheartz · 2 hours ago

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“ LIKE STRAWBERRIES. ” — M. Grayson Part one, part two Info : Slow burn, duh. Mark’s perspective and him being an annoying little freak. General fluff before things get freaky W / C : 2.6k+. A / N : microsoft word didn’t wanna cooperate so i hopped in google docs and got to fucking work. mb for the delay, genuinely started tweaking out when i realized i was already behind schedule LMFAO

“Where do you live?”

The question was genuine and curious, as Mark sat there and let you use him as a lab rat. He was more emotional support than anything, actually, seeing as you didn’t really need to do anything too hard unless it was being the resident doctor. And, to be fair, he hasn’t seen you outside of the GDA unless you were placed out on the field for emergencies. That alone was a rarity.

You don’t even look up at him, sighing, “That sounds creepy. Like, scammer or stalker kind of creepy.”

He ignores the fact he technically is somewhat a stalker, instead focusing on the topic on hand.

“I’m serious. I’ve never even heard you mention anything outside of work unless it’s about Oliver or Eve.”

“Good,” leaning back in your new swivel chair—because Mark had broken the last one by pure accident—you look at him with a bored look in your eyes. “I like it like that. You already know too much.”

Mark shifts on the medical bed, not injured this time, which had become a more frequent thing. He’d drop by more often. Less bloody each time, but with heavier weights on his shoulders. It wasn’t something he bothered you with. Your presence alone seemed to remedy whatever ringing lingered in his ears.

“I don’t know what that means.” Mark shrugs, holding your stare. “The most I know is that you’re here, 24/7, using me as an emotional support pet.”

You snort. “You’re hardly emotional support, Markus. You’re an accessory at best. Every time I turn around, you’re there, and I don’t know why.”

“Do you have to?”

“Yes. I do, actually, because whenever Stedman catches you in here, we both get put on probation. Which is stupid considering I never tell you to come here. You’re like a dog,” You hum and set down your paperwork, done for the day. “And not in a cute way. I’d pet a dog, I’d castrate you.”

He winces at that, unable to help picturing the uncomfortable feeling of that. “That’s rude.”

You nod languidly, spinning around idly in your chair. The one he insisted on paying for because he wanted to know a little more about your preferences. If anything changed at all, if there was something new about you that he hadn’t noticed before and hadn’t made both mental and physical notes of.

“It’s supposed to be, Invinci-Boy,” You smile, but only faintly. It’s a sight that makes Mark pause every time he sees it, even if it’s barely noticeable by the untrained eye. He’s learned to watch close enough that even the smallest uptick of your lips has him stopping, just for a moment.

Over the last few months, he’s made slow progress. Slow, most definitely, but still more progress. You’re not as guarded. Mark himself isn’t sure if you’ve noticed it or not, but he’d prefer the latter. If you ever did notice how you ever so slowly relaxed around him, how you’d smile—despite it always being barely there—the longer he’d stick around. He doesn’t have the heart to tell you you’re wrong about him being like a dog.

Because you’re not wrong.

You’ve got him on a leash, and if you were to tug on it, he would follow.

“Please stop reminding me.”

“So this is your place? It’s. . .”

“If the right words don’t leave your mouth, I will gut you.”

The house itself on the outside was simple. A two story house, a light but faded blue color with a dark roof, actually quite the distance from the larger cities and areas that’d usually have crowds and countless buildings. It looked old. Something that had been passed down, for sure.

The interior, in Mark’s defense, was cute. Floral print walls that were slowly yet surely yellowing, dark wooden floors, and a plain white ceiling. It was cozy. Lived in; which was a surprise, considering how often you’d get to work early and stay late into the night. Years on years of memories scattered on the walls. People you don’t mention. Pictures you don’t talk about. Thoughts you don’t think about anymore.

“You live on your own?” He looks around, and there isn’t really any other indicator of anyone besides you living here besides those photos and decorations. Except for what looked like a cat’s food and water bowl, and a bag of what seemed to be really, really expensive cat food. But he’s not sure if a cat counts as a someone.

You’ve never mentioned a cat before. Mark supposes he should’ve known—you seem like a cat person. You have cat themed pens, and occasionally doodle weird looking animals on your reports to annoy Cecil. Maybe those were cats; even if they looked oddly misshapen. He can’t help but zone out as he thinks about it. Cats suit you, he figures. He buries the little fact deep inside his brain for later.

“I have a cat,” The words are nothing but a murmur as you crouch down, looking at the bottom of your couch with a slight furrow in your brow. With a huff, you reach under and pull out a small cat, which blinked as it woke up. “Her name is Apricot.”

“Apricot,” He repeats, testing the name on his tongue as he watches the cat in question purr and practically fall back asleep as you hold her. You don’t seem as jaded as you do when you are working. Fatigued, for sure, but you seem gentler. Softer around the edges. Something he wants to see every day. He’s surprised you’ve come around to the thought of him, enough to let him in.

It was strange. If it had been a month before this, or hell, a week before, you wouldn’t have trusted him enough. Not even enough to tell him your cat’s name.

As he said before. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

“Were you hungry when you named her, or?”

“I will let her claw your face off, Markus.”

Your home constantly smells of vanilla and something purely you, Mark comes to realize. There is always an extra carton of strawberries in your fridge thanks to him, and every time he drops by, you let him stay a little later. You let him stay until sunset. Then until the moon is hanging high in the sky, and then until the sun comes back up. It’s like you don’t notice, and if you do, you don’t say anything.

He doesn’t say anything, either. Doesn’t want to. This is something that is meant to go unsaid, Mark decided. It wasn’t every night, but it was definitely frequent enough to notice, even if no one said anything. He’s memorized the main floor of your house—knows the feel of the couch cushions, the smell of your air fresheners, the sound of rain against the windows. It’s something he’d subconsciously etched into his memory. Into the hollow of his bones, really. All the things he doesn’t want to forget.

The sound of both Apricot’s and your heartbeat is cemented into his mind. Mark’s never been much of an animal person, but your cat seemed to be an exception as she purred quietly against his leg.

“Why do you have a whole process for strawberries?”

“Because just rinsing them doesn’t do anything,” You tell him as though he should know, drying off your hands as you leave the strawberries he’d gotten you to soak. It’s become a new piece of your routine. Whether or not you asked, or said no, there’d be a new container of strawberries left on your desk or in your bag.

You couldn’t be annoyed. Not at the fruit, anyway. You usually ended up baking them into something and feeding it to his little brother or Eve, or gave it right back to him just to hear him insist that he share his piece with you.

“I didn’t realize you were a germaphobe.” Mark comments, leaning down to pick Apricot up after she basically tried to crawl up his leg. The joke itself was a lie. You’re a healer, and he’s seen firsthand how particular you are about the cleanliness of your workstation and of the people you interact with. He knows about the little pet peeves that you don’t even know about, the small habits that are second nature to you.

It’s just gotten worse since you’ve let him a little closer. To Mark, it doesn’t matter if you realize how much you’ve come to trust him or not. As long as he can stay in a close proximity, it won’t ever matter. As far as he knows? He’s the only one you’re willing to let invade your space. The one he gets to rant to, even if all he gets in response are mumbles and scoffs—even the taunts and sly remarks you make. He enjoys it. Revels in it, really, and he refuses to have it any other way unless it means getting even closer.

“You’re stressful. Like a toddler.” The words that leave your mouth come out as more of a yawn, and the quiet of your home accompanied by your heartbeat is what peace sounds like to him. “I wish nothing but nightmares and despair on you, Markus.”

“You know you are literally the only person who calls me that. It’s disturbing,” He hums, wandering over into the living room and is secretly delighted by the way you follow behind.

All day, you were working your ass off. Paperwork, Cecil, patients, and a last minute emergency where you had to be out on the field. Healing people with your own two hands seems to drain you, something Mark wishes he’d noted sooner. The solutions you’d made to avoid healing with your hands were depleted, unsurprisingly, with the sudden spike in injuries amongst the heroes.

The amount of times you’d berated people in the last month were too many to count. Still, the insults you would hurl towards his way still amounted to more, and he wouldn’t change that for anything—as dumb as that sounded.

It’s a comfortable silence between you two when you both settle on the couch. Opposite sides, of course, a quiet boundary that Mark couldn’t be bothered to break. Just being this close to you was enough.

At least, that was what he would keep telling himself until it wasn’t enough, and he’d crave more again.

He’d always crave more when it came to you.

“I’m staying the night,” He rests his head against the back of the couch as he stares at the tv, which wasn’t even on. It wasn’t a question. It didn’t feel like he had to ask anymore, and you never protested. He’d leave if you told him to, but you don’t. Instead, it’s quiet for a few moments, before he can hear you sigh.

“I know.”

Mark can’t help but smile at that, noticing the way you curl up ever so slightly, shifting to get comfortable on the couch as Apricot crawled off of him and onto you. He can’t help but stare for a few moments, even if those moments are something he wants to last forever, and he blinks when you tilt your head to look at him. As usual, it’s blank. Tired, physically and emotionally. You don’t look like this whenever you’re on duty, but it is a look that he’s seen more as he spends more time with you outside of work.

Your heartbeat sounds like peace.

“Go grab the blankets from upstairs, you freak,” You lean your head on your hand as you reach for the tv remote and ignore the way he is seemingly snapped out of a trance. Slowly, he nods and stands up, wordless as he goes upstairs.

There are framed pictures hung on the walls of people. Not people you’ve mentioned before, and probably not anyone you could even remember yourself. They looked old. Aged, despite the moment being timeless and put behind glass and a wood frame to be hung up and looked at by those who could remember them. The wallpaper was somewhat chipped, little pink and blue flowers slowly fading and peeling. Every step he takes makes the stairs creak under his weight, and oddly enough, it feels comfortable.

You keep your blankets folded neatly in your room, on rare occasions. This is, what, the third time Mark’s stayed over? The second time he’d stayed, the blankets were sprawled on your bed, set up in a way you’d probably found comfortable enough to sleep on. He would figure it out at some point. Surely.

You’re still scrolling through movies and shows by the time he comes back down with all the blankets, setting them down beside you on the couch before sitting down next to you. Indecisive on what to put on, or if you even wanted to watch anything as you would doze off.

“What do you wanna watch?”

“Are we friends?”

Both questions come out at the same time, Mark’s voice being quieter than he had originally intended. He can hear the hitch in your breath, sees the way you stop scrolling through mindless television at his question. It’s been a nagging thought for some time, one that’d taken root barely even a month after he had met you a year ago. He wants to pretend that if anytime were a good time to ask, it’d be now.

When your heartbeat is slow and steady, calm and beating. When the creaks in the house have settled, when the sound of Apricot purring soothes the both of you, when he can’t help but feel his fingers twitch with want and feel his chest ache with so many thoughts swarming his head, he just can’t seem to focus on one.

You’d tilted your head slowly, a slight scowl on your face, and Mark can feel a lump in his throat.

He hadn’t felt this type of nervousness since high school—which, admittedly, felt like a lifetime ago after getting his powers, since moving on with his life. It was strange. A creeping feeling up his throat, his spine, his very soul. Down to the root.

“Friends.”

“Friends,” He repeats, nodding slowly. At best, you’d probably call Eve another coworker, Oliver an occasional nuisance, and Mark a constant pain in your ass that refused to leave no matter how much you turned him away.

The quiet that follows makes him want to claw at his throat, and he can feel his cheeks heating up. Whether or not it’s from embarrassment isn’t something he wants to think about right now, because he was certain he’d stopped being embarrassed around you quite some time ago, but it seemed that that wasn’t quite true.

And, again, you sighed.

“You know what? Sure. We’re friends,” You shrug, going back to focusing on the tv after making such a simple statement. As though Mark hadn’t felt like he was going to throw up just a few seconds ago. “Now, what do you wanna watch? Or else I’m putting on those obnoxious sleep noises and wait for a hell playlist to pop up and give you nightmares at like, three in the morning.”

He blinks, mouth opening for a moment before closing, and then opening again.

“Hell. . . Playlist?”

“I can show you. If I have to go through it, you do. I’d have to be smitten by the gods themselves if I didn’t torture you psychologically.”

As if you hadn’t done that enough just by existing, but Mark says nothing. He just laughs—relieved. You were willing to let him just a little bit closer, and that was enough. It had to be enough. Just for now, it was enough.

Until he’d start to crave more, just as he always did.

TAG LIST : @lxluvsmoney @broicouldjustbuyyousomekombucha @pookiei-bookie @tokoyamisstuff @koilikesthefishy @treeteaofversailles @astrelz @tryingandfailingtowrite @vghjvvhhj

#ʚ — heartz : fic #ʚ — heartz : love letter #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson #invincible x reader #invincible #gn reader #yandere mark grayson #invincible mark grayson #mark x reader #fem reader #masc reader #male reader #mark grayson x gn reader #mark grayson x male reader #mark grayson x y/n

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fuckedupfate · 2 days ago

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𓂃 ۶ৎ ﹕ WELCOME BACK , ANGEL.

leading roles ﹕ dean winchester , sam winchester , ange (aka angel!reader)

notices ﹕ none .ᐟ (don't think you're safe from the smut takeover though. you'll never be.) author's entry ﹕ quick little fic for the comeback season of my writing *everybody screams and cheers*. i'm going to be feeding you guys SO many fics this week (and maybe even next week 🙈) i'm soooo happy to be able to provide for you all again!! and i've been meaning to add another part to the angel!reader series since i began it, so here we are!! (i'm cooking up some more as well) credits ﹕ i owe the layout credits to the lovely @deansbeer , you need to stop cooking so hard with the layouts because i cannot handle them!!

you have been with the winchester’s now for a few days. you had stayed with them in a motel room, throughout a mission, and despite dean wishing you hadn’t, it was harder to tell her to leave that he had hoped for. you stayed inside the room, sitting naturally and unmoving in a chair, not at sleeping—dean and sam knew that you wouldn’t, as angels don’t sleep—but it was unnerving. to live the same period of time which they had with castiel at the beginning of meeting him, again. but with a different angel. a new angel.

but now, instead of being with them in a crappy, dingy motel, you’re in their bunker. after a long, but short, argument between sam and dean, dean finally caved. allowing you to come with them to the bunker, but only if you kept out of their business. which meant no hunts. just stay inside the bunker, and keep out of everything.

listen, it isn’t as if dean hated the poor girl. no. he was just.. used to angels being absolute dicks. complete—and utter—dicks. so he was—and is—wary around her. making sure you’re not conspiring anything. not whispering stuff into the angel radio about them. but you’re not. you’re just as confused, intrigued, and interested, about how the human world works now that you’re on it. now that you’re amongst humankind, and an youl, you’re trying to figure out the differences between the two worlds. between the homosapiens and the celestial beings.

now sam, well.. he was more welcoming to you. much more kinder, more gentler, than dean. he was more than happy to explain how certain objects and gadgets worked, especially the ones in the bunker, along with the ones out in the world. more than happy to explain the sayings that humans say, along with the references of shows, movies, and songs, dean and he happen to make. and, plus, he enjoys the curiosity and confusion that fills your expression and eyes as you look at him while he’s explaining something, or when someone has said something that you don’t understand. it’s cute. really. he enjoys it. he enjoys talking to you, explaining to you about what something does, or what something means. and he enjoys the softness you bring. he feels calm around you.

you’re like a newborn giraffe. stumbling and learning how to walk, but with.. everything the human’s have to offer. you were staring at dean in complete awe as he made burgers. looking at him like he was some sort of wizard. well, to you, he was. he was doing something you haven’t ever seen before. the process of cooking. amazing and never seen by you. and when he turned to see you standing right beside him, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, head tilted. of course at first he was stunned to see you standing right there, not having expected it, but then he just gave a slight smile and a raised brow. asking you simply, “what’re you staring at, huh?”, while your eyes then just flicked up to him. “how did that…” your words trailed off but he saw the way you looked to the raw patty which was sat on a plate beside him and then to the cooking one, which were two completely different shades, even though you were sure that they were the same items. though despite knowing what you were trying to say, he wanted to play with you instead. “how did what?” he coaxed, a small smirk on his lips as he watched as you tried to gather your words on how to explain it. “that was… that—it was.. pink and now it.. isn’t?” he stops himself from just laughing at your confusion, knowing that’ll get you even more confused on why he’s laughing at her. “it’s called cooking.” is all he had said, simple and short. earning a more confused, though curious, expression to form on her face. “...cooking?” you questioned back, looking at him expectantly. and he knew what exactly what he was about to retaliate with, a now cocky smirk forming on his lips. “yeah. sam’ll explain more about it. why don’t you go ask him?” he said, smug and cocky. and he knew exactly what you were going to do. you heard those words. 'why don’t you go ask him?' it was a smart idea. you all but nodded and happily walked out, prancing your way out of the kitchen and beginning to find sam. and when you did you asked about what cooking was, which left him a tad confused at the sudden, and slightly random, question, but he understood why you were asking when you mentioned that dean had been doing it and said that sam would explain it for you. which, of course, had him subtly rolling his eyes at how dean just sent you over to him to explain, but he couldn’t deny that he very much enjoys explaining things to you.

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#𐑺 angel!reader ⧽﹑#sam winchester #dean winchesrer #sam winchester fic #dean winchester fic #supernatural #supernatural fic

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userluhna · 2 days ago

Text

࿔⋆ SOMETHING IN BETWEEN

hwang inho x platonic!reader

based on this request

words: 2.7k

warnings: in two part; in the games and not in the games. even in the game inho is being referred as inho. platonic relationship. mention of the games. reader being 20.

enjoy! :)

not in the games

you met inho through work.

you were around twenty, juggling university and a small job at a record store. he came in about once a week—quiet, always lingering a little too long, flipping through records like he had all the time in the world. sometimes he’d talk to the owner about music, just a few words here and there. when you rang him up, he always smiled, soft and kind. over time, he started calling you by your name.

you never talked much, just polite exchanges. but he always came back. one day, you weren’t doing so great. something small had happened at university—something that shouldn’t have hit so hard, but it did. you’d gotten slammed with assignments, couldn’t manage your time, cried the night before. your balance felt off, your eyes still a little swollen.

when he came in, he noticed. he didn’t say anything at first, just browsed like always. then, after a few minutes, he picked up a record and looked over at you. “did you even listen to this one?” his voice was low, steady. grounding. you smiled politely. “no, never really got around to it.”

he walked over, holding the record out to you. “you should. it’s good when you’re having a bad day.” you took it from him, not saying anything. his eyes stayed on you for a second longer than usual. then, quietly, he slipped you a tissue. he must’ve seen it—the way your eyes had started to shine a bit too much. “i’m sorry,” you said, voice thin as you turned away, hand half-hiding your face.

“it’s okay,” he replied, calm as ever. “we all have bad days.” after that, he was gentler with you. more careful. not in a weird way—just more tuned in. he asked how your day was, talked a little longer when he came by. sometimes about music, sometimes books. you didn’t even notice when it started to feel like friendship.

one day, you mentioned how your class schedule left you skipping lunch most days. the next week, he showed up with food. nothing big, just something warm in a paper bag. you tried not to cry again. you were far from home. he noticed the gaps and filled them in quiet, small ways.

then one day, you saw him outside the store. total accident—you bumped into him near the train station. he looked at you with a smirk. “are you following me? that’s not cool, you know.”

“really?” you raised an eyebrow. “you’re going with that?”

“what can i say,” he shrugged, deadpan. “dad jokes are timeless.”

you laughed harder than you expected to.

you ended up sharing a coffee that day. nothing big—just a quiet moment between the two of you at a corner table, warm cups between your hands, steam curling in the air. you learned a little more about him. and he did about you. he asked about your studies, what you wanted to do, if you even liked it. you told him the truth, that sometimes you didn’t know. he just nodded, like he understood that feeling more than he let on.

“you’re allowed to change your mind,” he said, watching the street outside. “more than once, even.” there was nothing strange between you. no pressure, no questions you didn’t want to answer. just something steady.

when he passed by the record store, he’d ask, “did you eat?” if you said no, he’d already have something. wrapped neatly, like he made a plan for you just in case. “you knew i’d say no,” you’d mutter, unwrapping whatever it was—rice balls, pastries, a sandwich too big for one sitting. “yeah,” he’d say with a shrug. “you’re predictable like that.”

when you had a rough day, you’d text him. just; you free later?

he always was.

you’d find him already at the café or waiting at your usual bench in the park, hands tucked in his coat pockets. sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn’t. sometimes he’d just listen while you spilled every thought out like it had nowhere else to go.

“do i talk too much?” you asked once, embarrassed after a long rant about professors and deadlines and an accidentally burnt pot of rice. “you don’t,” he said. “you think a lot. that’s not the same.” when winter came, he asked if your apartment was warm enough. you’d said it was fine, but he showed up anyway with one of those plug-in heaters, just in case.

“you really didn’t have to—”

“it’s not that serious,” he interrupted, already setting it up. “besides, you complain too much about cold floors.” he always carried a jacket for you. he never said it out loud, but it became a habit. you’d meet him outside in a thin sweater, arms folded, shivering. “why don’t you ever wear one?” he asked, handing his over.

“because it ruins the outfit,” you said simply. he gave you a look. “that’s the worst excuse i’ve ever heard.”

“style is suffering.”

he snorted. “that’s not style.” you talked about music a lot. he’d tell you about the bands he used to love, the weird gigs he went to when he was your age. you’d share your playlists, and half the time he’d pause, squint, and say, “this came out when i was in high school.”

“you’re so old,” you’d tease, sipping your drink.

“i’m experienced,” he’d say, deadpan. “huge difference.” and when he talked about the weather like it was a serious topic, you’d just look at him with disbelief. “you’re doing it again,” you’d say.

“doing what?”

“talking about the wind like it owes you money.”“it does,” he’d say. “that wind yesterday? personal.”

as time passed, his presence just felt right. like he’d always been there. you didn’t even notice when it started to feel like safety. he talked about his life too, sometimes opening up just a little. but you could tell when it was too much for him. so you’d take the time to just watch him, quiet. “you don’t have to say everything,” you told him once. “some things are heavy. i get it.”

he just looked at you, thoughtful, and then nodded. one day, he called you kid.

“eat something, kid.”

“text me when you get home, kid.”

“what are you even listening to, kid?”

you never said anything, but it felt like a shift. a small, quiet shift. you had exams one week, barely slept, just ran on coffee and small bites between studying.

“you look bad,” he said when he saw you, setting a coffee down in front of you at the record store. you didn’t argue. he sighed, then handed you a small paper bag.

“it’s soup.”

“you didn’t have to—”

“just eat it. and go home early today, yeah?”

you nodded, too tired to protest. later that night, he texted: did you eat all of it?

you sent back a blurry photo of an empty bowl.

he replied: good. now sleep.

he wasn’t always warm. sometimes he’d be distant, quiet for days. but you never took it personally. you’d send him little things—a photo of a dog you passed, or a terrible pun you heard at school. and eventually, he’d reply, even if it was just a few words.

one day, your parents didn’t pick up the phone. not once, not twice—three times. he noticed the way you stood there, phone still in your hand, staring at the screen.

“well, you’re with me today,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder, a small gesture of comfort. that one sentence stayed with you. you started to think of him as someone you could rely on—not quite a friend, not quite a parent. something in between.

in the games

at first, he didn’t pay you much mind.

he was there as 001. silent, focused. one goal in mind. not much time to worry about some kid barely out of university. he noticed how young you were, of course. barely twenty. too young to be in a place like this. but he didn’t say anything.

he only stepped in when two other players started messing with you—just words, small jabs, but the kind that could build. he didn’t raise his voice. just walked over, quiet, and said, “is this how you want to play?” they backed off fast.

you didn’t know if he did it for you, or just because it wasn’t fair. “you okay?” he asked, not looking directly at you, like it wasn’t a big deal.

you nodded. that’s when 456 called you over. said you were too young to be on your own. they had a group already. you learned their names quickly. inho didn’t say much, but when you skipped your meal later, just pushed it around, he noticed.

“eat,” he said. you glanced up. he didn’t look at you, didn’t wait for a response. just left the word there. like it was non-negotiable. maybe it was sympathy. maybe something else.

during the six-legged pantheon, you were with his team. jung bae stepped aside when a pregnant woman approached, found another group instead. you were nervous—he saw it in the way you held your hands too tight, your eyes darting around.

he didn’t speak. just put a hand on your shoulder before it started. solid. grounding. afterward, back in the room, everyone talked. shared.

someone asked why you were even here. you hesitated, but then you told the truth. you were a student. you’d lived off your parents’ money. but your mom had gotten sick. treatment wasn’t cheap. she passed. and then the money was gone. just like that. you didn’t cry when you told them. just said it plainly, voice flat.

that’s when it hit him. something he’d kept buried started to shift. when lights-out came, he didn’t sleep right away. stayed near you—not too close, but close enough to step in if he had to.

“get some sleep, kid,” he said, almost like it was a habit now. during mingle, he kept you nearby again. eyes tracking you quietly. when you got separated, you looked around—no sign of him. you tried not to panic. then he came back. spotted gihun first, then you.

“you okay?” he asked, his voice steady. you nodded, a bit breathless with relief.

then the game started. number two was called. panic spread fast. everyone reached for someone.

your hand moved before you could think, grabbing for something solid—his arm. his grip closed around yours immediately. firm. not hurting. just sure. “come on!” he called, pulling you forward. your feet moved before your brain did.

he didn’t let go. not when people slammed into each other. not when you stumbled. and when you almost fell, he didn’t hesitate—he picked you up. he pulled you into one of the rooms and kicked the door shut behind you. you collapsed against the wall, legs barely holding you. your knees buckled and he caught you, arms around your shoulders now, not tight but steady.

inho wasn’t a hugger. you could tell. but right then, he held you. because you needed it. and maybe—maybe he needed it too.

you buried your face against his chest, just for a moment. he let you. he didn’t say anything about it. but later, after things settled, he looked at you longer than usual. and maybe it hurt him a little, because he hadn’t meant to care this much.

not about you. not about a kid.

after that, he didn’t leave your side. he made sure you ate. that you rested. he passed you once, just walking by, and messed up your hair lightly with one hand.

“you’re tougher than you look,” he muttered.

you smiled, small. “so are you,” you said.

masterlist

#squid game #squid game headcanons #squid game x reader #squid game fanfic #hwang inho #hwang in ho #hwang in ho x reader #hwang inho x reader

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