#love notes....get it??

[weemsgay]

Love Notes (Ch. 3)

Another playlist included for these lovestruck dummies. Also, @coffeemelko had a great idea to have Larissa know the hospital staff had been calling Reader her partner, hehe. Thank you for letting me write that in! :)

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

AO3 link

Spotify link

Getting Larissa inside and settled proved a harder task than it would seem. She kept demanding to stop and confirm everything was in order after being away from the academy to recover. She tried to inspect the grounds and interrupt the groundskeeper. She was stopped by several students who she confirmed were okay and didn’t need anything. Larissa even attempted to gather faculty for a meeting.

Oh, you felt like a tired mom who's toddler kept grabbing at all manner of items in the store only for you to sit it back down and try again. Once in her office, she continued the behavior, striving to call the mayor. Finally, having enough of this, you say agitatedly, “Shhh, Larissa. Enough. Just let me take care of you.”

Larissa seems to take the hint and quiets down considerably.

“How about I start to get you settled in the bedroom while you peruse your email. Only peruse, okay? And just until I’m finished.”

Walking into Larissa’s bedroom to turn down her sheets and prepare the space, your thoughts wander to the mess you’ve gotten yourself into. With the abundance of time spent with Larissa over the weeks, you began to pick up on the various genres that she likes—from 80’s power ballads to modern classical arrangements of pop songs to elegant classical music.

What started out as an effort to fill Larissa’s day with music while she recovered turned into a desperate attempt to disclose your feelings for the woman. The next mix CD you already started to create began to expose how much you cherished the principal-turned-friend. Though…the idea of only friendship was the furthest thing from your mind. You considered the assortment of music you had planned for Larissa’s next surprise. Desire. Affection. Appreciation. Yearning. These emotions undoubtedly flickered throughout the collection, tying each song together. If only you could pick up the courage to sign your name to these love notes.

Is it too late? you ponder warily.

Stepping back into the office, you hear Larissa typing frantically. With a sigh, you march over to where you left her at her desk. You reach out to slowly close her laptop until both of your eyes lock. “Hello,” You utter softly. “Ready?”

Larissa couldn’t help but feel secure and thankful for someone to be taking care of her for a change. Normally, she would resent the charity or pity, but from you, it didn’t read as those things. She can’t even be frustrated to be pulled away from her laptop. Instead, she replied definitively, “Ready.”

—

You and Larissa gather on the bed with wine after you tuck her in (quite literally). You can’t remember the last time you slipped blankets around someone’s feet and sides to make them feel snug. She just seemed so carefree for a moment at the action, wiggling her feet back and forth once she was bundled. You couldn’t help but feel a wave of adoration for the woman, as well as gratitude to be one of the select few who has seen her guard down.

“Oh gods, how I have missed red wine,” moaned the silver-haired blonde, downing a glass before you were even able to get one yourself and accompany her in the bed. “Excuse you,” you gasped. “Save some for the rest of us!”

“You didn’t have to give up wine,” she emphasized, teasing you. Regardless, you refill her glass and decide to bring the bottle bedside instead.

“And you are lucky that I’m letting you drink at all your first night out of the hospital.”

Larissa feigned astonishment with wide eyes. Revealing some of her typical poise and filter weakening, she returns, “You’re not in charge of me, you know.” With a gentle roll of your eyes, you mutter a bit under your breath, “Tell that to the staff.”

Perplexed, as if she is trying to catch up, Larissa questions, “What was that?” She turns her body to face you—to try to focus her eyes on your expression.

You giggle and steady her hand that almost spills some of her wine on the pristine duvet below.

“Oh, nothing.” Larissa feels a bubbling desire to press you for more information. However, she is suddenly struck by how heavy her arms and body are. How comfy the sheets feel. How warm her cheeks are. How can someone’s tolerance plummet this quickly after not drinking? she wonders as her head spins.

When Larissa lays flat on her back to still her spinning head, you roll onto your side towards her and tenderly stroke her forehead and hairline to provide her some comfort. The soothing motion feels right…feels natural. Her shoulders relax a bit and her breathing begins to even out. You wonder if she has already fallen asleep.

A few minutes pass. Eventually, you hear a soft proclamation, “I didn’t correct them.” The sleepy voice continues, “It felt nice, and I thought it was you.”

Your mind races. Does she mean she didn’t correct the staff? Does this mean she knew the doctors and nurses thought you were her partner? That the idea of you being her partner felt nice? Or just having someone there for her at all felt nice? What does she mean that she thought it was me? The mix CD? It had to be that… After another moment, with a nervous and fluttering heart, you question, “How would you feel if it was me?”

To that, you receive silence. No response, only steady breathing. Asleep, it seems.

You continue petting Larissa’s head, not wanting to rescind your touch. Her skin was warm from the wine and soft under your caress. You two didn’t discuss sleeping over, and you’re nervous to overstep or make her feel uncomfortable. Maybe you could get away with a few hours of blissful sleep next to the other woman?

You wake slightly at Larissa’s shifting body flinging an arm over your waist and pulling you close. Your stomach flips, and you’re not sure if you can get back to sleep. You lie in Larissa’s bed syncing your breaths to hers and trying to commit the feeling of her body next to you to memory.

Once the morning light started to trickle in through a crack in Larissa’s green velvet curtains, you decided it was time to untangle yourself from her and take your leave. You quietly grabbed a few of your things and exited the principal’s living quarters and office, heading toward the faculty showers. Hot water against your skin might ease the ache you felt from Larissa’s absence.

—

You attempt to sleep but can’t, so you make some buttered toast to munch on while you work in the orchestra room, knowing no students will be up to bother you. Last night strengthened so many of the feelings you knew you had for Larissa. What if that’s the first and last time I share her bed? The intrusive thoughts threaten your sanity, and you attempt to replace them with selecting songs for her next mix CD.

After an hour of immersing yourself in how to convey your emotions perfectly, you feel sleepiness begin to take you. Satisfied, you drag your feet to your own bed and plop down to rest.

Many hours later, you are jolted awake by an excited knock at your door. You glance at your clock to see that it’s noon. Confused, you stand up and put your father’s old robe on. It’s always been a comfort item for you—the way it was slightly oversized and could be wrapped around you tightly. You make your way to the door.

“Enid? What’s wrong?” You implore with concern as you swing open the door and are met with eager eyes and a slight bouncing up and down. You glimpse behind her to see Wednesday standing idly by, exuding mostly nonchalance but with an edge of analysis.

“Nothing is wrong. Sorry. It’s just that Principal Weems wants to see you in her office. Isn’t it great she’s back? I can’t believe Ms. Thornhill turned out to not be Ms. Thornhill and that she poison-“ you begin to interrupt the sweet, rambling young werewolf. “Thank you, sweetie, for letting me know. If you don’t mind, I need to get dressed.” Understanding, even though she wants nothing more than to keep talking and ask about the time you and Principal Weems have been spending together, Enid steps back. “Okay, see ya!” Enid assures, turning around to slip her arm around Wednesday’s to attempt to skip off. You stare after the unlikely couple for a few seconds before taking a deep breath and closing the door.

You drag your feet getting ready; you’re not sure why you are so nervous to see Larissa. Okay, yes, you do. You can’t help but think, What if she is upset with me?

You push the thoughts from your head and travel downstairs. Standing outside her office, you take a breath to prepare and knock.

“Come in!”

You receive a rather large smile from Larissa as you enter her office. To your dismay, she is in her work chair behind the desk. Are you seriously trying to do work right now? You mull over voicing your thoughts. She interrupts, “Where did you go?” Almost all anxiety around overstepping last night had left your body as you saw Larissa choosing to not rest.

“I couldn’t sleep. What are you doing up at your desk?”

“As usual Wednesday’s assimilation is once again rocky. I just got off the phone with the temporary replacement therapist in Jericho. I need to repost the job advertisement…” Guilt overwhelms you. Rather than trying to scold her, you should be understanding. You move to stand by her and rest a comforting hand on her shoulder.

You hear her out and strategize a plan forward. After posting on a few education and counseling job boards, you stand and stretch—letting out a bigger yawn than anticipated. “Is that all?” you ask sympathetically.

“Oh, I didn’t want to see you for this. I wanted to apologize for falling asleep on you.” You blush a bit, disclosing, “No, no, not a problem. A cuddle was nice.”

It was the blonde’s turn to react puzzled. “Cuddle? I rather meant falling asleep early. Did we cuddle?” Larissa seemed to tease and had a lilt to her voice.

Mortified, you backtrack and stutter, “I-I’m not sure. Y-your comforter was heavenly, though. You’re lucky I don’t steal it as compensation for taking care of you.” A deep, throaty laugh sounds from Larissa. You two banter a bit before you retreat to her restroom attached to her living quarters.

Okay, so using the restroom was a ruse for slipping out and delivering her new mix and letter. This time you included a poem special to your heart.

You quickly lock the door and phase into the adjoining classroom on the other side of the wall. Making sure no one is watching, you slip out of the room towards the principal’s office door. Your knuckles rapt against the door three times before you slid the gift underneath and to the other side. You begin to hear heels coming closer in determination.

The door opens quickly, Larissa’s torso peering out, inspecting the hallways to find no one. You had immediately disappeared into the wall to return to the bathroom before Larissa could suspect you were missing. Her mind reviewed the many possibilities, It’s almost impossible to vanish that quickly with no trace. Vampires could not transfigure into bat form that abruptly. No ghosts were enrolled or employed. Powers of invisibility were rare and difficult to control… She turns, closes the door, and heads into the bedroom.

Coming out of the bathroom, you hear Larissa, “Look what I found.” “Oh, shit. Another mix CD? Who is it?”

The taller woman sits on the bed, perplexed. “I confess I don’t know.” Larissa’s disappointment shines through, only you don’t notice that it is due to your alibi and not the impending mystery.

—

After you make Larissa promise to stop working on emails and paperwork for the rest of the day, you depart for your own room.

As soon as you are out the door, Larissa is rummaging through files on everyone associated with Nevermore. All faculty, staff, and students self-disclosed their outcast status and abilities annually. Things are bound to develop and change as powers evolve, but there is no mention of any power that could reasonably explain the mix CD’s presence in the absence of its creator or deliverer.

Her hands wander over your file. You were an obvious choice for the open music position when Mr. Altone, your predecessor, retired. Your ability to manipulate sound and generate music was unparalleled, and you could even compose according to specific emotions or mental states. Before you applied to Nevermore, you were a successful composer and closeted outcast, somewhat of a musical theater sensation. Nothing listed here that would explain the delivery of the CD, but plenty to incriminate you in its very creation.

Resigned for the night after another hour of scouring the internet and her book collection for an explanation, Larissa decided to put on the new playlist. She had almost melted the first one from playing it on repeat until her CD player was hot to the touch.

Larissa pulled a chair towards her magnificent fireplace and waited for the music to envelope her. A sweet melody begins to play, and she is transported into a warm, dream-like state. Behind her eyelids, swirls of purples, blues, pinks, and reds dance and convey the emotions behind the carefully curated songs. Her heart swells. Larissa still has doubts about who is behind the mix CDs, but when the music fills her up, she imagines you. She hopes for you.

@lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029, @asterlovesgwen. Let me know if any of you don't want tagged anymore! :)

[kochei0]

I turn to Ares.

Thanks to Tyler Miles Lockett who allowed me to draw inspiration from his ARES piece for page 2! Look at his etsy page it's SICK

⚔️ If you want to read some queer retelling of arturian legends have a look at my webtoon

[mythtakens]

“these characters should be mentally healthy before they get together 😌” ummm no I actually think we should smash their mental illnesses together like clumps of play-doh and see what colors it makes

[mlm-blues]

“lmao imagine liking men” OK!!! ON IT BOSS 🫡🫡🫡 it’s beautiful here

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The squad of all time has arrived on scene.

[palarien]

sketched this out at jury duty actually

[crsssie]

husband - professor!simon riley x professor!reader

Every now and then, Simon gets a student who doesn’t seem to get it past their skull that he’s happily married and not looking for a side chick or mistress.

He can usually tell in the first handful of classes, brow raised as they ask him to visit office hours, shirt peeking a little too low, smile a little too uncanny for his taste. He finds that typically as long as he plays uninterested and talk more about his wife, most of them learn to back down.

Now, occasionally, he gets a student who just doesn’t back down.

In those cases, he entertains the office hours, forcing you to stay back and lounge on the couch when they visit, extra affectionate with you when they walk in, ring on his finger extra polished and your matching one visible when you work.

You find it hilarious when you reach for his tea, lips around his straw as you continue to work on your research, drinking up the way his student’s eye twitches at his blatant displays of affection. You’re his “beloved” when the student walks in, and his “one and only” when they’re almost out of hearing range. You get a kiss when you walk him to class, and you peek into his class so much more to drop off drinks as long as the student doesn’t back down.

He refuses to hold an office hour with the student if you’re not available to hang around. He’d much rather be called a shitty professor than a shitty husband.

He can find another job. Not another you.

[prolibytherium]

I will say I get the vibe that a lot of peoples interest and support for strikers is a bit too much for a vicarious ‘burn it down’ thrill, rather than for the actual goals of a strike.

Like UPS has agreed to come back to the table and it is very possible they will concede to Union demands and avert a strike. And if that happens (so long as the union does not make concessions on its key demands) it’s a good thing. It’s a victory for the laborers. It is the same ultimate conclusion that a strike would intend to produce except without the workers having to go on (not so great) strike pay for a week or two.

[lotus-pear]

learning to love

[egophiliac]

tsum events really are just the best, huh

[soulmvtes]

it's about the small acts of intimacy... forehead kisses, putting jewelry on you, rubbing your hand with their thumb, putting a jacket on you, touching your necklace, running your hands through their hair, wiping away their tears, peeling them an orange, un/zipping their dress, tying their shoelaces, holding hands, removing an eyelash from their cheek, washing their hair, putting an anklet on them, tucking their hair behind their ear, sorting out their collar, untangling their necklaces, drinking out of a cup in their hands

[weemsgay]

Love Notes (Ch. 2)

Thank you all for being patient as I got around to chapter 2 and a short playlist.

Larissa Weems x musicteacher!Reader

Kind of a mix between Larissa POV and Reader POV. If it is too confusing, let me know so that I can change it up for subsequent chapters!

AO3 link

Spotify playlist

Thank goodness Larissa was able to convince the nurses to allow her a notepad. Bedrest, honestly? she scowled to herself. Undoubtedly Wednesday has already gotten into trouble again. At the same time, though, Larissa thought back to the younger, morose girl hovering over her limp body with obvious worry marking her face. Her scowl softened. She couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the girl. Seeing Wednesday forge her own path from Morticia was refreshing; Larissa didn’t need any further reminders of her former roommate…

Lost in thought, Larissa’s head snapped up at your gentle knock from the doorway. You step into the room hesitantly, worrying your lip as you make your way over to her hospital bed. “Ah, finally,” Larissa begins theatrically with a wave of her hand. “Darling, had I known you’d show up, I wouldn’t have had to improvise.” She gestures down at the small notepad with the hospital’s logo on it before giving you a wink and gentle smile.

Suppressing a blush with your own cheeky smile, you retort, “You mean you’re not known for your visions?!” You feign a gasp while reaching out to sit the duffel bag down on the tray table at the foot of her bed. You knew Larissa was a shapeshifter after accidentally witnessing her morph into Rowen earlier in the semester. That was an awkward conversation. Larissa didn’t know if it would have been awkward regardless or if it was awkward because it was you.

Of course not many people knew of her abilities at Nevermore, except for one faculty member that taught her back when she was enrolled. I’ll have to get him a thank you gift for never revealing my specific outcast status after all these years, she briefly filed away in her brain for later. Naturally it would be nerve-wrecking to get outed shapeshifting, especially during such a precarious moment. Albeit, Larissa had to admit that there was something about you that intrigued her. The fact that you now knew her abilities only added to the feeling of not being in control that you generated.

“Here” you continued. “I got your things, as well as a surprise for you.” You tested the waters. Perhaps you could still decide to claim the letter and mix CD.

Larissa looked a bit better already, more life in her than yesterday. She perks up at the thought of a surprise. You could have sworn you saw her eyes sparkle. Surely she has just felt deprived of social interactions or having the comfort of her own items. It’s probably not about seeing you specifically, you resolved.

“A surprise?” she answered intrigued. Larissa moved to snatch the bag and rummage through it. Sitting on top was indeed the letter you wrote in intricate calligraphy taped to a mix CD. “What’s this?” she continued, appearing confused with furrowed brows and an otherwise unreadable expression.

With a hitch of your breath, you worried internally, Okay…maybe you did read this wrong. Hopefully she is not disappointed or appalled at the sudden intimate gift. Defeated by your own inner turmoil, you backtracked.

“Oh, I found it on your desk in your office when I went by to gather your things, Principal Weems.” Larissa’s eyes shifted from the letter and CD to you and back. You scolded yourself for choosing such an expected medium for a gift; of course the music professor would compile a mix CD…

You continued, attempting to sound nonchalant, “But, like I said, I have a surprise.” You tried to salvage your previous statement with a reasonable alternative. Your hands searched through the duffel, dangerously close to Larissa’s, almost grazing the back of her hand.

“And voila!” you declared after a moment. In your outstretched hand you presented her signature red lipstick.

After waiting to confirm you were seriously proposing the lipstick as your intended gift, Larissa verbalized her gratitude, “Am I so predictable that you could sense I feel incomplete without my red lip?” She chuckled, and it sounded heavenly. What came next you could never have anticipated. “Help me put it on?”

Your mouth immediately went dry, and you felt warmth pool in your center. “Uh, hm? Wha-” was all you could muster. Larissa let out another small laugh and reasoned, “Well, I’ve no mirror, and these darn nurses are too good at their jobs to let me out of bed unsupervised.”

That makes perfect sense, you deliberated. You stepped further into the blonde’s space, leaned down eye-level with her, and waited for her to begin applying the lipstick. Your eyes flitted down to her lips as you attempted to keep your breathing steady. Larissa’s hand came up with the uncapped red applicator and began slowly dragging it across her smooth, plump lips. She occasionally pursed and brought together the upper and lower lips to ensure coverage, and it was as if you were entranced. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought the principal was purposefully prolonging the process. You would consider it torture if it didn’t feel so inexplicably pleasurable to watch.

Larissa questioned, “How’s it look?” To that you muttered breathlessly, “Utterly flawless.” A light pink began to creep up Larissa’s neck, but it was lost on you, as you were trying to drag your gaze to anywhere else in the room except her pouty, mesmerizing lips.

Taking a step back, you finally announce, “All is right in the world again. Thanks for letting me help, and please let me know if there is anything else you may need. We were all worried about you.” Larissa noticed a desperate tone in your voice.

You turned to leave. “Stay a moment, will you?” Larissa blurted.

—

Larissa had put you to work asking the hospital staff if there was a way to play CDs available for patients. After awhile, she had assumed no such possibility could be arranged. However, you sheepishly returned with an old alarm clock with a CD player top. Before plugging it in and placing it next to Larissa, you quickly wiped off the top with a paper towel from the bathroom dispenser.

In your absence, Larissa had time to consider the gift. If it weren’t for the accompanied music, she might have thought it was a joke. Who would court her? she considered. Of course she has had lovers and experiences, but nothing of serious magnitude and certainly not in recent years. Her duty to the academy came first (and often intimidated any potential suitors). In fact, Larissa hadn’t considered a romantic relationship viable with anyone since Morticia and the subsequent tragedy that transpired.

Her first thought was you, of course. Larissa isn’t sure if her suspicion was because it was logical or because she hoped for it to be true. She couldn’t help the magnetic pull towards you she consistently underwent. Over the past year and a half, Larissa was mindful of your interactions together. She’d begrudgingly depart faculty meetings early and keep her distance during school events like Outreach Day and the RaveN. The restraint it took to not invite you to enjoy a hot chocolate with her when she was at the Weathervane and saw you pass by outside was remarkable.

Like two magnets, though, Larissa often found herself in close proximity to you. Ensuring you did not notice, she couldn’t help but linger outside of the orchestra doors while you composed your own melodies. Larissa had heard or known of all the music in your curriculum, but these evenings you played after dinner were different. She hadn’t heard these original compositions before, and they stole her away each time.

Her longing aside, Larissa thought back to any moments she encountered your handwriting. Print, she realized, dejectedly. She’d only experienced your print writing—proposals and lesson plans. Her only clue to the beautiful calligraphy within the letter was your signature from your contract. Even then, your cursive signature was hurried and less ornamental than the steadied brush lettering in question. Doubt gnawed at her.

Without being certain, Larissa could not jeopardize your professional relationship to Nevermore. How embarrassing and improper it would be to suggest such a conclusion and not have it reciprocated. Moreover, she isn’t sure if being certain that you are behind the surprise gift is a large enough catalyst.

At this moment, you had retrieved the mix CD from the illustriously decorated case and popped it into the player next to Larissa. With your back turned to her, she was not privy to your nervous and timid expression. Notes begin to sound.

With her eyes closed, Larissa lets the music wash over her, filling her up. Her body involuntarily tingles at the base of her neck as the beautiful instruments hasten in tempo, threatening her composure.

With her eyes closed, Larissa lets the music wash over her, filling her up. Her body involuntarily tingles at the base of her neck as the beautiful instruments hasten in tempo, threatening her composure. Larissa is overwhelmed with the feeling as if this mysterious musical secret admirer understands her to her core. …as if each song speaking to a specific moment in Larissa’s life.

—

With the music framing your discussion and filling the room, you two fall into easy conversation. Hours pass. When a nurse comes in for the third time to kick you out, stating that visiting hours are over, you and Larissa share a knowing, mischievous glance and try not to chuckle. You didn’t want to go, but you also refused to make the hospital staff’s job more complicated. Alas, you began to head out, but not before you and Larissa planned more visits. Just as you were almost out the door, she asserts, “Please, call me Larissa.” You nod and take your leave, smiling giddily in the elevator.

Throughout the next two weeks as Larissa recovered from Marilyn Thornhill’s attack, you would come to her room, listen to music, and chat as if you’d known each other deep to your cores.

Out of nowhere on one of these days while taking in the songs again, Larissa queried, “So, who do you think it is?”

“The secret admirer?” you vocalized to give yourself more time to consider a plausible suspect. “Maybe that cute barista always doting on you from the Weathervane? I mean, she does arrange their Spotify account for the café.” In part you chose this option to examine how Larissa responded to the idea of another woman being interested in her.

Seemingly unsatisfied with this proposal, the silver-haired blonde grimaced. “What? Not into women?” you blabbed before being able to stop yourself—cheeks gaining a bit of color.

“No, no, women are marvelous.” She waited a beat. “I just wonder why she would gift something anonymously? I’m barely even intimidating.”

At that your mouth gaped open. “I’m sorry? Are we talking about the same person? You? Principal Larissa Weems who towers over almost everyone with a soft but powerful demeanor that suggests you don’t take shit from anyone???”

You continue, “Larissa, my friend…are you serious?” Larissa felt her stomach recoil at the statement. Friend…she internalized, almost feeling accosted. The whiplash of being enamored with your description of her and then the finalizing bestowal of friendship gave her pause.

Mustering a lackluster response was all she felt capable of, “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” In acknowledgment of her sudden tense demeanor, you reached out to take Larissa’s hand in yours. Her warmth seeped into your hand, reminding you that your hands were always cold to the touch. You gave her a reassuring squeeze, eager to continue the contact. Your touch seemed to placate Larissa but did not completely disappear an underlying look of uncertainty.

After this interaction, you and Larissa didn’t mention the secret admirer’s identity as much in your visits.

—

A week later the hospital staff finally cleared Larissa for discharge. With students heading off for winter break soon, there should be plenty of time for the principal to rest and recover in her own space. Mistaking you for Larissa’s partner, the nurses in Burlington handed you her discharge paperwork to sign, as she would need to go into your care. In a panic, fretting about bringing it up to Larissa, you went ahead and signed the paperwork.

Regardless, you were in high spirits. You could finally get back to making another mix CD for Larissa without major suspicion. Since you hadn’t needed to retrieve any other things from her office, you doubt you’d be able to use the “oh, I found this for you” excuse again. You’ll just have to get creative. Hey, maybe you’ll make your handiwork clear this time.

—

Tagging to be notified: @lilsmeaux, @suckerforcate, @rickistheman, @tundra1029 :)

Not sure if you wanted a tag, but here @asterlovesgwen!

[stil-lindigo]

the fox god.

a comic about a trickster.

--

creative notes:

–

all my other comics

store

[unlimited-nobu-works]

my group chats on private MMO servers

[oh-gh0st]

i heart these rivals so much. maybe they'll kill each other. maybe they'll kiss. maybe they'll make ou

[platypusundercover]

HE'S FINALLY FREE FROM SKETCH JAIL OMFG ICARUS