#raymond is taking the picture probably.

[angermango]

still undecided on whether or not Descole also exists in my "Rachel Bronev as Descole AU" thing, but either way after getting over the initial shock of the reveal he's actually having a grand old time tbh (he's taking it a lot better than Layton is that's for sure)

[original ref:]

[sehnsuchts-trunken]

I'll Show You Just How Sad I Am

a raymond smith x reader quick little blurb, just 1k words

there's mentions of smut in this so read at your own risk <33 who knows, maybe raymond will make a more regular occurrence on my blog over the next few weeks

here's my masterlist in case you want to check out my other works

"Should be the door to your left, honey."

Your voice is sweet in his ear, a pleasant distraction from the run-down building Mickey had sent him off to. It's smelly and dirty and even though he knows he should most likely feel pity, he's still just as disgusted. He'd be with you in a heartbeat if he could, safe and clean in the comfort of your home.

"Mickey should've sent a cleaning lady", he grunts as he knocks at the door, your chuckle almost making up for the very truthful, thinly veiled anger behind his words.

"Mickey wanted you because you're the best", you recite - you've told him often enough by now that it really is reciting. "And because he trusts you to keep this clean."

Which is easier said than done.

Twenty minutes later, the whole thing's anything but clean.

Sure, he'd very much accomplished bringing Laura home - but he'd also left a dead teenager in a puddle of blood about two stories down from where he should've been sitting.

"Left, left!", you call into the mic. Even though you're far from panicking, you're still much too loud, your voice flowing from his earpiece and stinging his brain.

"I'm trying, darling", he grunts back, breathless and panting as he pushes on, one foot in front of the other on the pavement of some random South London streets.

"I know, I know", you sigh. He isn't sure whether he's actually hearing you chew on your lip or imagining it, but he doesn't really have the capacity to think too much about it at the moment. "He's right in front of you. You've got him, Ray."

Yeah... The only problem is that what you must be seeing as a moving, flashing dot on a digital map, he's seeing as a bunch of teenagers trying to look intimidating. Probably feeling intimidating too. God, this is exactly why he didn't want the job. He isn't made for the fucking low-classed youth.

"You've seen enough?", that bastard of a boy spits at him. "Now I've got backup."

Raymond steadies his hands on his thighs and takes a deep breath in.

"You couldn't back up a phone, you cunt", he rasps, his erratic heartbeat slowly starting to calm back down.

"Raymond", you scold. "That's a child."

"That's a bastard", he mutters, before he finally straightens and tries his best at a somewhat mannered bargain. He's really only here for the fucking phone. He needs those pictures, then he's gone. He doesn't want to leave more unnecessary corpses to take care of.

So he offers them money. Which is something that they should definitely take, just judging by how they look. Plus a visit to a very good psychiatrist. But they don't. It's the same fucking bastard who's taken the pictures in the first case and got him into this mess that refuses - and in such a really stupid way, too: "How 'bout you give us that bag and be gone anyway?" - god, even you let out a choked up laugh at that, your breath carrying through the mic and into Ray's earpiece.

He drops his chin to his chest and shakes his head. What a fucking bunch of idiots. Goddamn it. He can feel his blood boil, hot and hotter.

"It's bait", you mutter, your voice low. "Calm down, love. You've got a machine gun. Use it."

Yeah, fucking hell, it's bait, he knows that. It doesn't change the way he's feeling. But your voice in his ear at least brings him back down to reality.

"Right", he grunts, then he swipes his coat to the side, closes his hand around the grip of the gun and steadies his fingertips against the trigger. He pulls it out in one swift motion, points it at the sky and shoots. For a good three seconds longer than necessary.

"Just like that", you breathe, your grin dripping down onto your voice and melting into his ear like honey. You've really got to stop that, he actually loses his focus for half a moment there and in his line of work, next time that means sure death.

The entire bunch of teenage boys flees - as expected - and in less than a minute, Raymond has the phone pressed into his palm.

"God, sometimes I really hate that I'm not there", you sigh, something in the background ruffling, probably as you shift into a more comfortable position on your chair. "Kinda wish I could've seen you."

"Run after a little cunt like that? You didn't miss anything, darling", he says, turning his head left and right before he strides back towards the car, his steps long and purposeful.

"Turn the corner here", you mutter, your voice taking on that specific tone that tells him there's a lazy grin licking at your lips. He can just imagine how you're looking (especially now that he has the time and freedom of mind for it) - one foot propped up on those bar stools that you'd bought for the kitchen, your equipment organised on the table top in front of you, his shirt hanging from your shoulders and pooling in your lap, your head tilted back and your eyes half-closed as you talk to him.

"I don't mean the little idiot", you go on, undeterred even as he narrowly avoids a trash can. Fuck, you really distract him too much. "I'm talking about you. God, you sounded so hot I wanted to jump at you. Actually scratch that, I still do."

He lets out a chuckle as he spots the car, his steps slowing. He should hurry up, he knows that. But he's got you in his ear, talking in that sweet voice of yours about just how much he affects you. He can't pass up on that.

"You're a little fuckin' minx, darling", he mutters with a grin, throwing a glance over his shoulder to check if there's any possibility he could be overheard. He doesn't necessarily feel like making your conversation public, even as you hum into the microphone.

"Yeah, but yours", you mumble. It sounds like you're almost proud of that. "Here's an idea, love: Get back home before I finish my shower and I'll show you just how sad I am that I couldn't watch you."

[maounteighn]

Overanalising Moral Orel: Clay, Bloberta and the Colour Theory

p.2 Bloberta

p.1

In p.1 we have already established that Bloberta's colour is red and it remained red throughout her whole journey. Her sense of Self was untouched neither by marriage nor by parenthood. When we are taking about relativity of her identity, she doesn't base it around or against anyone in her current family.

Her style barely changes, always containing red and white. However, she gradually loses white in her garments the more she decides to walk on her own. Her younger self up to that wedding in Help wears the most white – visually it softens the boldness of her red skirt. At the reception party she wears mostly red, white is only her belt and headband – red is also more saturated. The same red remains in her post-wedding daily wear. While white is not only in her collar, but also her apron, it is a completely different piece of clothing. Underneath the apron there's still her red dress. White apron dilutes red too, making it look less assertive, but it's only for the time she wears it. It's like a mask of a housewife and a mother, that she willing puts on for a meantime. Underneath it it's still her real, very persistent Self, that she is not particularly trying to hide. She also water down her true Self to appear less threatening to the society – she is a woman who has desires, attitudes and strength she shouldn't demonstrate. So not to apper a deviant, she has to adopt a socially acceptable Persona for herself.

Despite common beliefs that woman's true identity is of a wife and a mother, Bloberta is never changed by acquiring these statuses. Quite opposite, it's Clay who shapes his identity in relation to her (against her). It a simple visual storytelling, he is nothing significant to her, he is an instrument to her goals and desires, a tool. And a useless tool, too.

What has actually influenced Bloberta's sense of Self had done it way before she and Clay met. Take a look at her family.

Her mother Regina wears a mix of brown, red and very dark-green. Everyone else wears a variation of her colours. Modella – red and yellow-green, Lunchbox – green, Raymond – brown. Together they look very homogeneous too. They don't stick out, they don't clash, they don't take attention away from Regina. In comparison, their wardrobes are also similar and very simple, mostly plain l, while hers is quite busy and speckled, ornated. She is the center of attention. Raymond blends with the background, Modella and Lunchbox are like an extension of her perfect aesthetic. And all together they look classy, a very much dark academia family. That to be said, literally no one on the picture is allowed to diverge from the selected route (even their interior is in gren/brown/red) – they HAVE to be inside the borders of The Family Aesthetic or else...

In other words, they are constantly putting up a show, a collective Persona. The are not a perfect family by any standards, but Regina tightly manages their public image. Even at the reception the are like this.

But Who we have across the table? Bloberta. Her bright red skirt and white patterned blouse. She doesn't fit in the family approved hue of red, she wears too much white – she reflects too much light, her red looks even brighter again it. She is just that bright. Her reception dress is also bright red. If she was ever allowed to stand closer to them, they would look dull. So she never is. She is a family outcast. It's also reflective of a talent that she possess so naturally but is never able to utilise bc no one is interested. Despite her constant search of love and acceptance, she adopts this identity of a black – or rather red – sheep of the family that functionally casts her aside. She doesn't change to appeal to her mother's taste, probably bc it's senseless. Regina is not interested in Bloberta or her success, so it wouldn't matter anyways.

See, also, if her father was truly affiliated with her, he would have won a bit of her red maybe. It would've been a nice touch. But we know that he was too reluctant to defend his daughter even if he felt sorry for her. Her siblings are not on her side either. Lunchbox is actually her antipode – completely in green, a contrasting, complementary colour to red from the opposite side of the colour wheel – a son, a youngest child, a talent her mother actually wants. He is everything Bloberta is not. Modella, despite being closer to Bloberta in colour theme, in tone is closer to their mother. She may be not so aggressively opposite, but she is too reluctant to align with her. She has softer colour, she might be on good terms with her personally, but wouldn't risk standing up for her to Regina. Thus, Bloberta is completely alienated from her family.

Also, Bloberta's clashing style can be interpreted as her subconscious attempt to separate herself from her siblings in a desperate attempt to get attention too. Bloberta is a middle child, moreover she is a middle daughter inbetween an older sister and a younger brother. It's socially acceptable to deem her invisible – you already have an excellent daughter and a son™, this one is spare. Red is a very noticeable colour, it attracts attention. In Bloberta's case, it can also be so that she is noticed even if looked at passively. This way, her bright red is imprinted on someone's retina, even if they barely acknowledge her presence. This way, her mother, despite looking past her every day, never forgets that she is there. Thus, red is her only chance to be noticed by somebody, anybody. It's a survival tactics for her. Her depressed, meek attitude at home, and everywhere where she is with her family, doesn't allow her to come to her own character. To avoid being an afterthought, she wears bright red and contrasts it will white.

Now, let's take a look at her friend group. They all seem to have a similar style of colour combination. Pastel tones, dark-light, no more than two colours etc. But you see, no one is so on the nose like Bloberta. Even that one girl, that wears red too – it's not the same. Her red is darker, closer to brown and contrasted with light green, that is also with red plaid. The all are colourful, of course, but tame. It's just Bloberta who is standing out, and not only bc she's the only single friend now.

Also, there's another character, who stands out just like Bloberta, but in an opposite technique. Censodoll and her in this instance actually (and in general) share some similar characters despite such a dramatic difference in colour identity. They are both single, their Self shaped by actions of their mothers, the Self so strong, that they keep it throughout the whole life. However Censodoll approaches her existence with black – colour that absorbs light. She is not susceptible to the influence of her environment, but she is acutely aware of it – subsequently she can exploit it for her own gain. (Censodoll deserves her own separate paragraph).

White is a very reflective colour, it reflects light from its surrounding. Pre-Help Bloberta is very much receptive of what her surrounding thinks and expects of her and she reflects back exactly that. The slow decline of white elements in her clothes can signify gradual maturing, jadedness. Young Bloberta is still sensitive, naïve and youthfully innocent. She's of course already lost most of her expectations, learned to accept that little consideration she's given and not object or ask for more. At the reception she wears mostly red because the earlier encounter with her friend group gave her a motivation – to get engaged asap to be included again. The tone is more saturated, the white belt or headband does very little to counteract it – she drops the act she does without her family around, she is confident in her actions too. Subsequently, this becomes a colour of her victory and her downfall.

I have to say, the only time Bloberta ever abandoned her significant red was during her affair with Stopframe. It's a sportswear, so it's usually white. But on a storytelling side, it tell us about her (and his) motives a lot.

She wears all white with a tiny bit of blue. You see, we already established how white is a reflective colour. Story wise she is trying to be someone different too, just this once. It doesn't necessarily mean that it's unauthentic for her, just that it diverges greatly from her original and by that time setted colour identity. Its probable, that she is also putting a very strong and exaggerated act – she's desperate after all. It's been at least 4 years of her marriage to Clay, that was a horrible mistake from day 1, she knew it instantly, too. So this act here is targeted to secure her a better relationship (or so she thinks). It's actually the same approach she used on Clay in Help + longevity. The one thing she definitely has learnt was that she shouldn't immediately jump to a conclusion. So here, she is expanding her act in time and also putting more effort in her reflection. A tiny bit of blue is her way of associating with Stopframe, blue is one of his signature colours, especially to her. (Notably, he also has a tiny bit of red – he is also putting up an act here, they are quite the same in their tactics. He wears white, just like Bloberta, for the effect of reflection – he is whatever she wants him to be, an affinity to her. But notably, he keep an element of his own colour, while she drops it completely. He is not that dedicated to the initial act, not as much as she is.)

So, Bloberta holds her identity in a death grip and wears red as a trophy. However, she became a product of her own environment first, and locked it on herself second. Red is what she needed to survive among her family and friends, not necessarily what she truly was. Now, of course, it's what she it, the Self she accepted and built up.

Her red is very different from Clay's red too. She has a potential to be whatever she wants actually, she has much more agency than Clay in terms of independent existence. She is versatile and resilient, she is flexible and capable of big achievements if she puts her mind to it. In her case, red = strength, power she actually has, and, in extension, the power of Self that Clay actually desires but lacks.

They are different in their approaches and attitudes, routes the took etc., but in the end they arrived to the same result. They are two parts of the same disaster, one whole broken system.

Orel is next.

[leafsbabe]

HOCKEY PLAYERS TAKING YOU ON A DATE

for @2manytabsopen sorry it’s a day late happy birthday ily!

Lucas Raymond

he would take simple dates and turn them into something great

so when he invites you over to watch a movie you think he simple wants to watch a movie

maybe cuddle a little on the couch

but that would be too easy for Lucas

no this guy has built an entire cozy pillow fort with fairy lights and everything

can’t decide if this would be funnier if he already had fairy lights laying around or if he went and bought them for the date

he’s got like ten different snacks in bowl and because he knows movie theater snacks hit different he has Mo on speed dial to go and get some from the nearest cinema if you want

made a few preliminary decisions but let’s you pick the movie(s) you want to watch

compliments you so much if you dressed up but also offers you some of his clothes if you want to get comfy

starts and loses a popcorn war

Matt Rempe

Matt would take you out to explore the zoo because it would be something the two of you can do that’s a little active but not too much

part of him would want to skip the boring animals but he’ll look at them for you

actually reads the little information boards and then tells you little fun facts

makes fun of animals with weird names IT’S NOT THEIR FAULT THEY DIDN’T NAME THEMSELVES

insists on watching the public feedings like this boy wants to see some penguins get fishes thrown at them

buys matching overpriced merch hats because he wants you to be protected from the sun but also not feel awkward for wearing a funny hat alone

also buys you overpriced zoo ice cream to share #romance

secretly buys you one of those animal partnerships where you sponsor a specific animal and surprises you with it after your date like congratulations you’re now the proud sponsor of a tiger named Marilou or something

totally down to take cute pictures with the animals but he’ll probably have a black eye in them and joke that a group of turtles beat him up or that he got it from fighting one of the bears

has his arm around your shoulder for almost the entire date in a very cool and nonchalant way and definitely isn’t screaming internally the whole time

Trent Frederic

he would ask you for a list of things you’d like to do on a date so that he can pick one to surprise you

because he doesn’t want to take you to something you don’t enjoy

when he sees your list his eyes are immediately drawn to the art museum since he’s never been to one before

likes that he can experience it for the first time with you

pays about half as much attention to the painting as you do

but pays a lot of attention to you and how you react to the art

takes a while to find his favorite painting when you challenge each other to pick the one you like most

he likes the sculptures, even if he does get a little close to them

definitely doesn’t use that as an excuse to hold your hand while you walk through the museum

gets a postcard with your favorite painting in the museum shop because it now reminds him of you

[folkdances]

my opinions on the sexualities of (nearly) every single main aa character and some side characters also

mia fey: bi

phoenix wright: bi

larry butz: straight. he tried to go gay it just didn't work 😢

winston and gaspen payne: straight

maya fey: in my heart she's a lesbian. textually? idk. i will say dubiously lesbian because she said regina berry was cute but most likely i think she is aro

dick gumshoe: straight but he has fooled around with men before, he just doesn't take it seriously. like he doesn't mind banging boots with men but when he pictures a future he has a wife

miles edgeworth: do i even have to say it. gay

will powers: straight and transfem.

dee vasquez: gumshoe situation where she's straight but i know she has gone down on a girl at least once in her life

lotta hart: straight

gregory edgeworth: he's like a spore to me. asexual reproduction. he cut his fingernails one day and the next a baby had spawned into being. but like straight i guess

manfred von karma: straight. his earring doesn't fool ME!

ema skye: lesbian and ace she will have sex every now and again but mostly out of curiosity whenever she forgets what it feels like

lana skye: lesbian.

angel starr: bi

jake marshall: straight

damon gant: gay

maggey byrde: straight but in a larry way. she tried going gay and it didn't work. her and gumshoe are like schrodinger's bi couple

morgan fey: straight but perhaps a lesbian in another life

mimi miney: lesbian but in a tiktok astrology sapphic way

franziska von karma: she thinks she's straight for a while but she is a butch lesbian (butch in the gender identity sense as well)

matt engarde: gay

adrian andrews: straight. sorry.

dahlia hawthorne: EXTREMELY loaded opinion here. i will say straight but in a very complicated 'there's more important and weird stuff going on' kind of way so no way to really know

ron and desiree delite: straight

diego armando: straight but i do think he thinks about it in prison

viola cadaverini: lesbian idgaf

iris hawthorne: straight but she fools around a little after prison at phoenix's insistence (they are friends don't test me)

kristoph gavin: gay

olga orly: lesbian. what else was i supposed to make of the nickname 'quick-fingers'.

apollo justice: gay and transmasc (the voice training? hello.)

trucy wright: another loaded bomb. i will say aroace but with a lot of weird pseudo comphet stuff happening where she knows she doesn't like boys but she's been acting for long enough that she's semi-convinced herself. she'll figure it out one day

wocky kitaki: straight and he gets really offended if you suggest he's gay but he has thought about it at night

klavier gavin: bi and cis but he goes by she/him pronouns

juniper woods: beat me and take my blood but straight

athena cykes: lesbian and ace. she did have a crush on juniper

simon blackquill: straight until he gets out of prison and edgeworth is his gay awakening. he doesn't really care that much though. probably aro as well

aura blackquill: lesbian. like textually

pearl fey: straight

nahyuta sahdmadhi: straight and cis

dhurke sahdmadhi: bi.

rhoda teneiro: straight

kay faraday: lesbian and nonbinary also

shi-long lang: he doesn't care that much probably bi though

tyrell badd: straight but one day he gets asked if he's gay and he sticks his lollipop in his mouth for a long time before saying "... who hasn't had ... gay thoughts?" and it's never brought up again.

raymond shields: straight

justine courtney: straight

sebastian debeste: straight and transfem but she only figures that out a few years after aai2

abstaining from commenting on bronco knight and simeon saint. for now

[tua-five]

Season 2 Episode 1 (Spoilers! ⚠️)

Among other things, one thing I wonder and wish was more explained is how and/or why the siblings banded together to stop the 1960s apocalypse. In the first scene, Five comes about and witnesses the Soviet Union attacking the US. And there are all of his siblings working together to stop this thing. However, we know that when five rewinds 10 days and he brings it up to them, they're all like, f* that I don't care about the dumb apocalypse.

Speaking of which, why did Hazel decide just 10 days? Why not longer?

Speaking of Hazel... What promise did Agnes make? To help stop the apocalypse? Did they know it was going to happen again, or was it more of a vague/open minded promise? Also, he had to have known bc he showed up there in the first place. But he quit the commission, so how..? Also, if he quit the commission, why keep the briefcase? And wouldn't they just take it back? He probably kept it just in case, but.. still. RIP Hazel and Agnes tho 😔🙏

Also... the briefcase survived the grenade Five threw but not a bullet??? How does that make sense??

Speaking of Five. I love how right after seeing the impending apocalypse, witnessing Hazel die and getting shot at, he's more concerned about messing with a man who he saw take a picture of him. Poor Elliot thinks an alien who looks like a 13 year old boy is threatening him 😭

On a separate note, Allison cheats on Raymond before she cheats on Raymond. Now, she doesn't literally. But she's always looking at the moon. So much so that he notices and buys her a book... little does he know it's because she's thinking bout her other man...

Also, if everyone went back to the alley to look for each other.. why didn't they actually look for each other?

Diego was in the newspaper.. [Viktor] was put up as a missing persons, Allison was fighting for civil rights, Luther was a bodyguard for a "famous guy" and a fighter.. I mean... they were all doing significant things that you could possibly hear about or read in the newspaper. It's very unlikely they didn't see each other or hear about each other... But idk. Maybe they did just never hear/see about the others because the universe really does hate them.

On a separate note, I just realized that the reason the swedes went after Diego is because HE'S trying to change the timeline. He probably DOES succeed in saving Kennedy, and that's why they went after him.

BONUS: Luther hovering like an ambitious stripper just to become one 2 seasons later 😏

[whoiwanttoday]

Here's some Chun Li today because sometimes, just sometimes, you need something that isn't real. When I started this blog, despite this being tumblr, I definitely got blow back for it being weird if I posted someone who doesn't exist in actual reality. The snarky, shitty part of me would say that none of the celebrities I post exist in reality, not in the way they portray themselves but that's the sort of pseudo intellectual 10th grade profundity that helps no one and doesn't address the notion at hand. The reality is for some people it is weird and I get that but for me there is largely no difference because like a celebrity I don't actually know and will never meet, Chun Li and my attraction to her has much more to do with me than her. I mean, she's hot, those thighs aren't in my head but what I mean is I am rarely someone who looks at just pictures and that's all it takes. Most celebrities I post I have some sort of relationship with their work and it's a connection to art or just my brain thinking too much and creating a narrative that really does it. It's why fictional characters work for me because in many ways they are easier to do this with. I know more about Chun Li's inner life and thoughts than I do any real person because… like you can read it on the screen when she wins at the end. Also fighting games don't give you that much story so it's a neat trick where you can fill in the blanks which also makes sense to me because minimalism was always what I was most drawn to. I know that seem strange as we reach word 311 but Raymond Carver was my favorite writer. Of course, the real reason is probably that I was a child and we didn't have the internet and she was literally the only girl in the most popular game in the world at the time. Or at least that's part of it. I knew kids who would do the brick breaking scene with Sonya Blade and purposefully lose just so they could watch her breathe hard. That felt weird to me. But Chun Li? That's normal. She put sos much work into her hair and that's a really nice dress, who wouldn't be into that. Today I want to fuck Chun Li.

[obigem]

As the homegoing ceremony reception wore on, Cam decided to take a quiet moment to himself.

It felt so strange to be in his dad's house surrounded by so many happy pictures of him, in contrast to the reality that he was gone.

"If a funeral is good for one thing it's fancy free food. It's just too bad I can't eat any of it."

"Huh?" Cam looked up to find Aiden in front of him. "Oh, wow, I'm sorry, Aiden. I didn't even think about making sure there were vegetarian friendly options."

"I'll have Dre order something. Anything you want. It's on us."

"Cam, it was joke. I guess I failed at lightening the mood." Aiden gave a half smile.

"Oh. Sorry, I guess it went over my head."

"It's OK. You're allowed." Aiden got serious. "I really am sorry for your loss."

"My bio dad is kind of the worst, so it's probably shitty to say this, but I don't know if I'd even go to his funeral. But Henry always seemed like he really cared a lot about all of you. I'm sorry you lost that."

"Yeah, he did." Cam stood. "I think I'm gonna make the rounds."

He appreciated Aiden's kind words, but he didn't want to spend his quiet moment having people tell him how sorry they felt for him. It was bad enough he was still grappling with the fact he had no parents left. He didn't want the constant reminder of that.

Unfortunately, there was no shortage of people around him who were sorry for his loss.

"Cameron," Raymond approached him as he tried and failed to make it to the restroom.

"Oh, Raymond, how are you? Er, I guess that's weird to ask."

"No, it's fine." He waved him off.

"All things considered, Shelly and I are doing just fine."

"Thats...that's great to hear." Cam was running out of steam to stay in conversation.

"Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something important."

"Oh?"

"Your father, he was a good man. I'm glad I got to know him."

"It's no mystery to me that he was loved by so many, by you, the grandchildren, everyone."

"Listen, Raymond—" Cam tried to interrupt.

"What I'm trying to say, Cameron is, Henry had spoken to me about how hard losing your mother hit you both. He missed her dearly to his last."

"He'd mention so many times how ready he was to go, so he could be with her, but what held him were the grandchildren, and you. I told him that he should cherish the time he has with you now while he has it, so he did, but I also made him a promise."

"I promised him that when his time finally came, I'd look after the grandchildren and you."

"Me?"

"He worried about you, that you would feel alone once his time came. I know I can never replace him, I may not have long myself, but when you married Andrea you became family."

"As dear to me as Andrea is, you are too, like a real son. So if you'd like, I wouldn't mind if you decided to call me Dad from now on."

"Oh, umm, wow. I....don't really know what to say."

Raymond telling him to call him 'Dad' wasn't exactly on his bingo card for the day.

[writingbyshiloh]

Scary Coincidence

AN: Reader is dressed as Colombia from Rocky Horror Picture Show with the shiny hat. Going to a Halloween party tonight and I’m shaking w excitement. Some of this got messed up when pasting

CW: Drinking, (finally) non-FBI reader, probably should have been putting age gap was a CW bc he's like 50+ in the show, no beta brace yourself

WC: 0.5k

The pub your friends picked was definitely an old man's pub, just somewhere to drink and pass the time before the club you planned to go to opens. You got a few odd looks, with your group's costumes far from a classic Dracula or superheroes. Instead, the looks you got were probably from the amount of exposed skin, and how your specific costume was full of bright colours which, stood out against everyone else dark pallet. You just had to be Colombia, covered in a rainbow of sparkles, from your gold top hat to your feet.  

While some patrons stared at you like you had come from a different planet (which makes your costumes feel even better) no one has made any rude or even borderline comments. You tip well and stay close to each other dishing out workplace gossip. A few of you you sitting on stools by the bar, the rest standing in a semi-circle. , everyone idly keeps an eye on their phones to keep checking the time. 

Hat too hot and itchy you take it off, setting it on the least sticky part of the bar, slightly to your side. The pub is pretty empty so you don't feel too bad about your hat just sitting there. It's not until you go to leave that you notice your hat is gone and in its place is a sleek black fedora. While not the highlight of your costume, it did take you ages to sequins on top and you want it back.  

Scanning the other patrons you look for anyone wearing your hat and hopefully the owner of the black you’re sporting. You told your friends to go ahead without you, you can catch up. It takes you a few walk-throughs, but you spot your tophat sitting on a booth table, surrounded by a few men in various costumes. Finishing the drink in your hand you walk over. 

“Excuse me,” you say, watching everyone in the booth turn to face you “I think you have my hat.” 

The short man dressed as a cop sitting on the outside opens his mouth, probably to tell you to get lost, but the man next to him interjects over him. 

“Would you look at that? I think I do.” he replies, voice smooth and deep. The hat you’re holding certainly matches the dark suit he's wearing. You smile, reaching to swap the hats. He’s older than you but handsome nonetheless while he returns your smile. 

“Please. Allow me to buy you an apology drink.” he says to you, quietly telling the fake policeman next to him “Glenn, move.” 

You step back from the table to give the fake cop - Glenn apparently - space to stand, and for your hat thief to move out of the booth. He unfolds, one hand held out for you to shake. You grab it, probably shaking it a bit too hard. 

“I’m Raymond, and you’re... Columbia?” He asks, gesturing to your costume. He tips his head while gauging your reaction. You huff out a laugh before telling him your actual name. You like how he sounds repeating it. 

“Now, how 'bout that apology drink?” you ask, letting him guide you towards the bar. "And what are you supposed to be?"

"I'm dressed as Raymond Reddington, the FBI's most wanted. My friend there, Glenn, is a cop. Purley his idea, my dear."

"But your real first name is also Raymond?" 

"Lifes full of happy coincidences, like how your hat ended up at my table." 

You can't help the smile on your face, trying to discreetly text your friends you're going to be very very late. 

[holly-opal]

SCP Foundation OC

SCP - 4789: The Painter.

[Scientist Log]

The Painter is an SCP we captured around six years ago. His name used to be Elias Kingst, but we call him by the foundation name of The Painter. According to his file, he was able to paint when he was just a tiny infant. His ability is to paint whatever he wants and make it become real, we are aware that he can switch from making normal paintings and making the things he paint become a reality on command. And if it wasn't obvious enough, he seems to be made of paint himself. He is friendly and is not very hostile, this will put him in the safe class. According to an interview between The Painter and another employee at this foundation, when he was around six years old, he painted a monster that killed and ate his parents right in front him. He said that he jumped from orphanage to orphanage before running away and painting money, food, and drinks. He lived in an apartment with his abusive boyfriend (Who was later arrested and charged with domestic violence and drug trafficking) before the foundation found him and took him into government care. Despite his friendly ways, he isn't very social and is distrustful of others. He used to be very fond of a certain D class member by the name of Raymond Conners, and the other scientists quickly noticed that they were both growing feelings for each other, as if it wasn't inherently obvious with the way Painter would create makeshift dates for Raymond and himself. One of the scientists joked that they will probably get married in the facility. [Sighs] A part of me wishes that became reality. Raymond... Died from another SCP. I believe it was SCP - 682? I don't remember much. I can only remember Painter's devastation when we told him that his lover wasn't coming back. He even painted him a picture of a cherry tree. Painter shut down after that. He refused to interact with the scientists, the other members of D class, even Scps when we did cross testing. And.... Oh God... [Exhales with a sorrowful tone] We had to up security around Painter after he attempted to end his life. He painted a noose and was in the middle of pulling it out of the canvas. I had to call in the foundation to get him to stop. We watch him 24/7 now. We placed cameras inside his room, scientists and officers check on him regularly, take away any weapons he creates so that he can harm himself, and we patted his room after he started banging his head on the walls.... I feel for him, honestly. He's such a gentle soul. He didn't deserve this. We're going to do another cross testing with Painter next week, it's either with SCP - 999 or a new SCP we found in one of the swamps. Maybe one of them will make Painter smile once more.

[End of scientist Log]

[moghraidhs]

jackbucky pt vi

The letter arrives on a Monday.

Bucky’s sitting on his cot, reading Guys and Dolls for the tenth time, when Curt comes in with a couple of letters in his hand.

“Those from your folks?” Bucky asks. He’d stopped joining in on mail calls a long time ago. The sting of not getting any letters has (mostly) faded by now.

Curt smiles. “Not all of them. One’s for you.” He tosses Bucky the slim white envelope with a wink.

Bucky almost drops his book in his haste to catch it. “For me? Really?” He looks down at the letter. Sure enough, his name is scrawled across the front in bold, black ink.

“Well, open it then,” Curt pokes him in the shoulder, eyes alive with curiosity.

Bucky obeys automatically. Tearing open the envelope takes little more than a couple of seconds, and then…

It’s a photo of Jack. There’s a note attached.

Dear Major Egan,

Consider this a gift. I wish you both the best of luck.

Sincerely,

Raymond Bryan

“Who’s Raymond Bryan?” Curt asks, because of course he’s still there.

Bucky swallows. “One of the journalist guys who was here a couple of weeks ago.” He looks back at the photo, his hands trembling a little.

Jack isn’t looking at the camera, his attention focused on someone standing next to him out of frame. His hair’s a little rumpled, mouth curled in a small smile. He looks…well, stunning.

Curt whistles softly. “Well, how ‘bout that?”

Bucky skims his thumb across the photo almost reverently. He’s never had anything like this: a picture to take to the skies with him. Practically everyone else in the 100th has something; hell, even the ground crew carry pictures from wives or sweethearts. It had hurt at first, until Bucky had made peace with the idea that something like that wasn’t meant for him. And now he has this. He’s not sure whether to laugh or cry.

He does neither, though. “Where’s Jack?”

Curt shrugs. “Probably in the Air Exec’s office, like usual.”

“Thanks.” He’s out the door before Curt can say anything else, long legs eating up the ground.

True to Curt’s word, Jack is in his office, his head bent over some papers. Bucky watches him momentarily through the window. His heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of his chest, his whole body light and giddy.

Not even in the air and he feels like he's flying. It’s stupid, really, but he can’t stop it.

“Hey, Jack,” he says as he enters the office.

Jack looks up, the lines of his face relaxing briefly. “John? Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Um…” Bucky shifts on his feet from side to side. “I wanted to show you something.” Before he can lose his nerve, he slides the photo across the desk towards Jack.

“One of the journalists from London sent it earlier. I asked him for a photo, but I thought he’d forgotten until today.” Bucky grins. “Now I’ll be able to have my man with me wherever I go.” He doesn’t intend for the words to come out, but they do anyway, and they actually sound…right.

It’s a rare thing for Jack Kidd to blush, but he does so then, colour flooding his cheeks. “Oh,” he says, quiet, and Bucky’s heart beats even faster.

“You don’t mind, right?” A sudden, insidious thought spears its way into his mind. “I can send it back–”

“John.” Jack’s hands land on his, warm and solid, and Bucky stops mid-sentence.

“I love it,” Jack says. He’s smiling, more with his eyes than his mouth, and there’s nothing but sincerity in his voice. Bucky stares at him, and his chest feels full to bursting.

“Can I get a kiss?” The words come out almost of their own volition.

Jack shakes his head, properly smiling now. “You’re something else, you know that?”

Bucky has heard the words a million times before. As a taunt, out of frustration or anger. Only a few have said it with affection. When Jack says it, though, it feels…special.

Bucky tilts his head, putting on his best puppy eyes. “Please, Jack?”

“Someone might walk in,” Jack mutters, but his eyes flick down to Bucky’s mouth regardless.

Gotcha.

“Just one,” the Air Exec says finally, and Bucky beams.

Jack cups Bucky’s face in his hands and kisses him. He’s good. Bucky melts into the touch, chasing Jack’s mouth with his own, his hands tugging the other man closer.

Good, good, good…He never wants this to end.

Someone knocks on the door, and Jack pulls away “One minute,” he calls, sounding infuriatingly calm in spite of his previous occupation. Bucky watches him, dazed and out of breath and happy.

“Guess that means I’ve gotta go, huh?”

Jack smiles at him. “For now.”

And there’s the mischievous streak that Bucky loves. Heat flares in his stomach and he smirks back. “That a promise?”

Jack ducks his head and kisses him again, somehow quick and lingering at the same time. “You can count on it.”

[coquelicoq]

last week marked a full year since i started a daily habit of reading french fiction to myself out loud, so i took a picture of the books i finished in the last twelve months to commemorate the occasion!

as you can see, there are nine books total but two of the books (count of monte-cristo and les mis) take up fully half the volume, which makes sense because the first six of the twelve months were devoted to just those two behemoths. full list:

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, Tomes I et II, Alexandre Dumas père

Les Misérables, Tomes I et II, Victor Hugo

La fin de Chéri, Colette

Le Tour du monde en 80 jours, Jules Verne

Exercices de style, Raymond Queneau (this one i read in both paperback and audiobook; the audiobook is stacked on top)

Changer l'eau des fleurs, Valérie Perrin

Claudine à l'école, Colette et Willy

Candide ou l'Optimisme, Voltaire

Le mur, Jean-Paul Sartre

la fin de chéri was both the shortest book and the hardest to read! there was a lot of vocab i wasn't familiar with, and the syntax was a real challenge. colette LOVES her a comma. like, she uses commas to do so many different things i can never really tell what any given comma is supposed to be doing. she might as well just not use punctuation at all. also, i only discovered this like five months after the fact, but it's apparently a sequel?? i was super confused by a bunch of stuff that seemed pretty unexplained and it turns out there was a reason for that lol (the reason being the explanations were in a totally different book). i also just, like, didn't really like the story 😩 rip me!

cmc and les mis were both books i had read previously in english but never in french. exercices du style and probably about half of le mur i had read for college french (if you look closely you can see the spines of those two are a more faded color because i've had them for 15 years lol). the rest were brand new to me. changer l'eau des fleurs was the only book published in the current century. so much great vocab in that one...i really gotta read more stuff from the last few years. also it made me cry big time.

i think i'm gonna keep up this daily habit, but i'd like to expand to poetry and possibly? even non-fiction?? at some point?? francophones feel free to rec me stuff! i'm trying to work my way through some of the really classic french canon, so next up i'm thinking maybe le fantôme de l'opéra, cyrano de bergerac, and at least the first volume of à la recherche du temps perdu? i also want to read more recent stuff, so i've been looking at winners of readers' choice prizes and whatnot, but suggestions from actual individuals would be grand. i think some scifi could be cool maybe, but i don't know anything about french-language scifi and have no idea where to start...

non-french francophone authors would also be really great if you have any suggestions!

[flowersforfrancis]

i really like your blog :) do you have any book recs? besides The Secret History of course

Thank you. Book recs? I’ll try my best. My reading preferences are just what I call mainstream classics - you’ve probably heard of most of  these. And uh sorry for taking so long. 

No idea what you like to read, so here are just some books that I like/find interesting:

The Stranger - Albert Camus The Metamorphosis - Franz Kafka Maurice - E.M Forster The Murder In the Rue Morgue - Edgar Allan Poe The Mystery of Marie Roget - Edgar Allan Poe  American Psycho - Bret Easton Ellis  Brothers Karamazov- Dostoevsky 1984 - George Orwell  Animal farm - George Orwell  Down and out in Paris and London - George Orwell  Kafka on the shore - Murakami Norwegian wood - Murakami After Dark - Murakami  To kill a mockingbird - Harper Lee  Lapvona - Ottessa Moshfegh The Body in the Library - Agatha Christie The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath On The Road - Jack Kerouac Visions of Cody - Jack Kerouac Lord of The Flies - William Golding The Goldfinch - Donna Tartt Anne of Green Gables (and all the books that follow) - L.M Montgomery  Breakfast of The Champions - Kurt Vonnegut Circe - Madeline Miller The Song Of Achilles - Madeline Miller A room of one’s own - Virginia Woolf Picture of Dorian gray - Oscar Wilde Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes  Killer in the rain - Raymond Chandler If On a Winters Night a Traveler - Italo Calvino  The Road - Cormac McCarthy Any Terry Pratchett books Any Hermann Hesse Books (If you haven’t read them already-) Lord of the Rings (I’m personally not so into it but-) If We Were Villains - M.L. Rio

Hope this was helpful in someway. Hope you weren’t, I don’t know, expecting explanations of any sort…

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/12/2023

this series not sponsored by murphy's wood oil soap but boy do i wish it was

listening

this song popped up as the first video when i opened accursed tiktok to figure out what the deal was with that german engineer lady digging a storm shelter in her basement. this is the specific recording i want but the second video with a slightly longer intro... u have got to see Abel Selaocoe in motion performing Ka Bohaleng/On The Sharp Side.

i feel like every time i see a video of a cellist they're doing some absolutely bonkers shit and producing sounds i did not know a stringed instrument could make

-

reading

i am constantly chasing the very high highs of raymond chandler's philip marlowe detective noirs. Human Target, a DC extended universe thing by Tom King and Greg Smallwood got real damn fuckin close.

i took thirty-five screenshots while reading these twelve issues. they are such a lush love letter to midcentury advertising. it luxuriates in period-typical stylized coloring in a way i do not see very often. i hope mr smallwood gets sucked silly every night.

one of the reasons for the tuesdayposts is to force myself to look at new things, bc sometimes i find shit i really like. i am remarkably unwilling to consume new things when i am not feeling good, even though new things i like are���not a keystone, but really up there holding together some arch in the viaduct of mental health or whatever.

anyway Christoper Chance is a man with a very specific skillset: perfectly imitating wealthy clients to lure out assassins. he takes a fatal does of poison meant for Lex Luthor and has about twelve days to solve his own murder before he dies. this is an EXTREMELY compelling reason for someone to haul ass through an entire noir novel in less than two weeks.

let's make some comparisons to other spy media i've seen in the last month. christopher reminded me a bit of loid forger from spy x family: same hypercompetent backup plans for backup plans and incredible disguise skills. im sort of...positively? fascinated by him, as opposed to the (also entertaining) train wreck of james bond's psyche slamming up against soft targets for two to two and a half hours. like there is womanizing in Human Target, but it is not the time-filling bond girl eye candy. do not worry, christopher FUCKS.

it is self contained within its twelve issues so i didn't have to read eighteen other crossovers and have encyclopedic knowledge of c- and d-listers from the silver age of comics. it was a very fair mystery. the twists and turns weren’t stupid. i know that’s not a terribly helpful observation but sometimes in a mystery…it takes a fucking stupid turn. most importantly imo it sticks its landing and understands that a noir is a subgenre of tragedy.

how’d i find it: has a pretty cover, stood out from the crowd on hoopla. americans, you probably have access to hoopla through your library!

-

watching

@andmaybegayer referenced the youtube channel About To Eat in a recent mondaypost and i was so enthralled by this man's confident, dulcet, soothing and mustachioed tones. i had forgotten that i could in theory make french onion soup like myself. at home. soup season will not begin here for many months here and even then it's kind of pushing it, but i would like to eat some soup without melting!!!

overall About To Eat's recipes are a bit beyond my skill level and ability to prepare things in one sitting without joint pain but they are a display of competence i find very fun to watch.

-

playing

ive rationed all my picture slots for other slots but i did finally obtain two of the country-specific fishing rods in genshin impact. they were extremely irritating to obtain but i trust you'll understand i'm quite pleased with myself.

-

making

unphotographable things:

reactivating the dried sourdough starter from the horrible woods apartment of 2021, unforch rn it does look like when my cat regurgitates her kibble

sprayed the new couch down with some rather nasty insectide just in casies, it is still degassing in my office with the fan at helicopter speed and the balcony door open and towels shoved under the inside door for another 24h, also made plans to dye a big canvas dropcloth and strategically pin it in place for a cheapo slipcover

coffee table specific unphotographable things:

finally finished cleaning all seven

had to violently strangle the urge to repaint certain inner sections and made peace with touching up the worst of it with an oil-based paint pen bc let's be real nobody is going to look closely at that but me

pried some corrosion off one of the little brass decorative thingies, now it looks bad in a slightly different way

photographable things:

now this is a fun little record cabinet. i haven’t seen many pieces out in the wild that have that sort of vertical bullnose detail. makes me think of thirties waterfall dressers with their molded plywood rounded upper edges.

i can’t decide if the veneer on this piece is starting to really go (it is heavily crackled esp on the sides) or it was once owned by a smoker. the photo below is of the THIRD round of cleaning this front panel after upping the cleaning mix to a HEARTY 2:1 water/soap, and this was not the worst panel on the piece. mostly it really just smells like old wood? i don’t THINK the innards are cedar, bc that would be an odd choice for a record cabinet, but it is an oddly fragrant base wood.

there are some details that make me think it was never a terribly high end piece, or was maybe repurposed into a record cabinet? the veneer is quartered but somewhat indifferently matched, it has very indifferent nailhead finishing, and im not sure if the casters and record slots were later additions. i think the little door catches are original, but they aren’t magnetic yet which starts ruling out some later mcm. i would hazard this was made right before or right after wwii, but realistically it could be early thirties-early sixties. no makers marks :(

i will refinish this eventually. a bit nervous about how the front bullnoses might come out, i don’t really want to fuck around with veneer repair or like. grain painting. that’s for insane ppl and antiques dealers and i am clearly neither

free of ghosts, spider eaten on the house no additional charge with the friends and family discount

[a-hopeless-romantic-fanatic-blog]

One Piece - shipping drabble

Law x Nami

Just some silly, incorrect quotes about marriage and being in a relationship with pictures! That I personally think fit really well with the LawNa dynamic!

( I also think it is neat and fun to explore that possibility and idea between these two fictional characters)

Rating: SFW

Warnings: some minor bad language, but nothing too bad.

...

I am aware this isn't a popular ship, but any form of hateful or negative comments will not be tollerated. You can like what you like and that's fine~ Because we all want to have fun, and a good time here! A wise person once told me: "If you got nothing nice or actually constructive to say, then probably don't say anything at all."

Let's spread love and kindness. Not hate and war.

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ ✧ﾟ･:❤️🧡💛💚💙💜🤍🩶🖤🤎

If you wanna see other stuff check out my

Main Shipping Harbor! Lots of verity there~

Heads up!

So marriage isn't just between a man and a woman. Marriage should be all about being with the one you love regardless of their gender or ethnicity. So long as it's not toxic or against the law (like actual cringe stuff)

Then go for it! Get out there and find love in whatever way makes you and your significant other happy~

Okay now that's outta the way...

To this self-indulgent drabble~

...

Sleeping together:

"Some mornings, I wake up grouchy. Other mornings, I just let him sleep." -Nami

(Quote from:Unknown - Marriage humor of great men and women.)

"Marriage is an alliance entered into by a man who can’t sleep with the window shut, and a woman who can’t sleep with the window open." -Law

(Quote from: George Bernard Shaw)

...

The benifits of being married:

"Why do married people live longer than single people? I think it’s because married people make a special effort to live longer than their partner—just so they can have the last word." -Nami

(Quote from: Janet Periat)

"Look, you want to know what marriage is really like? Fine. You wake up, she's there. You come back from work, she's there. You fall asleep, she's there. You eat dinner, she's there. You know? I mean, I know that sounds like a bad thing, but it's not." -Law

(Quote from: Robert Barbone - Everybody Loves Raymond)

...

Tolerance and Compromise:

"I love you no matter what you do...

...

... but do you have to do so much of it?"

-Law and Nami

(Quoted from: Jean Illsley Clarke)

...

A doctors' take on marriage:

"Marriage is like vitamins: we supplement each other’s minimum daily requirements."

-Law

(Quote from: Kathy Mohnke)

...

It's totally normal:

"My husband and I have never considered divorce… murder sometimes, but never divorce." - Nami

(Quote from: Dr. Joyce Brothers)

"And she might be a pain in the ass. But she's my pain in the ass." -Law

(Quote from: A Very Potter Musical)

...

Extra benefits:

"I married for love, but the obvious side benefit of having someone around to find my glasses can not be ignored."

-Law & Nami

(Quote from: Cameron Esposito)

...

Vows

"The first draft of my vows, which I wrote the day after we got engaged, clocked in at around 70 pages."

-Law

(Quote from: Leslie - Parks and Recreation)

...

This was meant to be.

"I never fell in love with you.

Falling is an accident.

No, I walked aggressively

towards love for you.

It was on purpose and

with purpose." -Law

(Quote from: f.k.q)

...

The greatest thing...

"My most brilliant achievement was my ability to persuade my wife to marry me."

-Law

(Quote from: Sir Winston Churchill)

The End~

...

Picture/Art work credits:

Law playing with Nami's hair by: Unkown

Law and Nami in a comfy place: saram_80

Nami putting her lip gloss on Law: @ZSxJvsKNpB7AVoE

Law fighting with Sanji and Nami trying to stop them: One Piece Episode - 913

LawNa week day 4: Height Differences - Unknown

Straw-Hat's and Nami laughing at a not so amused Law: shevoj

Nami beating everyone up. Including Law: Unknown

Nami helping Law with his Dressrosa disguise: Unknown

Law passed out at his desk, and his crew sneaking in with gifts for him: Unknown

Law and Nami meeting at Sasbody: xMinyuV

Nami whispering something into Law's ear: Unkown

...

I do not own any of the pictures above nor characters from the One Piece franchise, but go give those artists and Anime/ Manga some love if you can!

And if you know who any of the "Unknown" Artists are, please send me a link to their portfolio (if it also includes the picture that's excellent too!)

...

Want more? Check out this other LawNa Drabble I did (warning it is kinda sad).

Also, my main Shipping Harbor. For even more stuff to explore here on this blog!

...

Like what you see? Consider sharing and / or leaving me a tip! Thank you, and I hope you have a lovely day~

[niobe-loreley]

Heaven Is In A Shortcake {xii}

oooooh another chapter in less than an hour? *tries to mesmerize you*

disclaimer: The Gray Man and the characters are NOT mine, even the reader. I only own the plot and the reader's character lol. Pictures used in the fic are NOT MINE, but only the edited version (u can msg me if u ze owner); credits to the rightful owners and canva + weheartit. Addtionally, I am not a Subic/Zambales native, so my apologies for any wrong locations, descriptions, or languages.

Six x F!Reader / Courtland Gentry x Female Reader

warning: moderate amount of swear words. some filipino dialogues. slow burn. fluff. trust issues. dramaramramamama. comedy if you use a magnifying glass. culture shock. word count check. slightly proofread/revised.

CHAPTER SELECTION is in the ✨Masterlist✨ Chapter 11 should be out of the blueprints Chapter 12 is this right here

word count: 3k (N/N) = nickname *Kiara = Claire *Kurt = Court *cover names = reader doesn't know (except you do know #wreckthe4thwall)

It’s been a week since you’re dating Erick. 

But three weeks ago, if you're more honest, you thought you’d be dating Court.

Why is that?— Oh, maybe because he asked if you were in a relationship. You answered truthfully, and even flung the question back to him. If that wasn't a gigantic sign to ask someone out, you don't know what it was. 

For two weeks, you have waited for him to ask you out. But, as God said when Wuntch tried to sneak past the gates into heaven, “It ain’t happening, honey”—rebuked by Captain Raymond Jacob Holt of the 99 Brooklyn precinct.

Even so, you’ve contemplated on being the one to take the first step and ask him out. Your nerves unfortunately tear your vocal chords to shreds; whenever you think you have the courage to ask Court out, you’re losing your voice as though Ursula wants it to scare off any colorful sea creatures.

Your little inner selves are warning you, telling you to be sure first before producing stupidity into something tangible. So you decide to wait it out, look for definite signs that Court is authentically interested in you, and—

Nothing happens.

Apparently, you’re only positively daydreaming. You think you’re that lucky to have a foreign guy become interested in you? Stop, please, you’re killing your muscle fibers— they’re laughing too much.

If your own ethnicity has always had trouble finding you attractive, what more for people of other ethnicities?

Here you go again, degrading yourself like a terror professor. Stop it— you're sexy and you know it.

Erick certainly believes it as he periodically murmurs how sexy you are during sex earlier. You regard his open-mouthed sleeping face, wondering how he doesn't snore, and softly run a hand through his hair. Something— someone else flashes in your eyes, making you see that you're not combing Erick's hair.

Dirty blond locks instead of black bend to your gentle will. You carefully retract your hand, gaze at Erick guiltily, and quietly knock the back of your head on the headboard of his bed. For some reason (there's no point hiding it), during intercourse with Erick, your mind occasionally imagines that Court is in Erick's place.

When you soothe a hand up and down his arm, you vividly feel Court's arm instead of Erick's. It has been practically a month, yet your mind still replays that moment you and Court had in their kitchen as though it happened yesterday.

You recall his scar and wonder if Court has any more that he will let you venture.

An exasperated sigh blows out your lips, like a single storm cloud wafting angrily to rain on everyone's parade. Here you are in bed with a guy who's definitely interested, and you're musing over somebody else who probably isn't.

Talk about being a shitty person.

"Why weren't you two here last week?" you inquire, unable to keep it in your molars any longer.

Claire and Court didn't show up for their Monday breakfast, and Friday and Saturday dinners. She mentioned that they may add it to their more dinner nights and breakfast at the cafe. You shouldn't have assumed it'll be written in stone, now you're reddening as the father-daughter duo exchange unreadable looks.

Maybe you shouldn't have asked.

"Busy preparing for homeschool," says Claire.

"Oh, yeah? When are you going to start?" you grin excitedly.

She grimaces. "Next week, actually."

"Damn, time flies fast!" you exclaim with a laugh, "It seems like yesterday you two were first-time customers in the cafe."

Claire snaps her fingers. "I remember we played UNO Flip then. We haven't played that since."

"That's true.. how about instead of a movie night tonight, we'll have a game night?" you suggest with a toothy grin.

"We can do alternating events— game night this Friday, and then movie night on the next!" Claire claps her hands enthusiastically.

The two of you regard Court, who has been quietly finishing his meal. "(Y/N) may be busy," he states without looking and drinks his water.

You blink. "No, I'm not—"

"Well, I am." he curtly says.

"You are?" Claire heaves a brow.

"Company project needs to be done tomorrow morning." he begins wiping his mouth and hands, sliding out of the booth, he's careful not to be in your proximity. He looks at Claire, "Let's go?"

She glances down at her empty plate. "We haven't had dessert yet."

"Two slices of strawberry shortcake to go, please." Court whisks away to the counter.

"O-Okay," you glance at Claire, who shrugs in response, and you follow Court, trying to catch his eyes as he keeps his gaze down.

When you outstretch the paper bag to him, you keep your hold on it before Court can take it. "Are you alright?" you inquire before he can say anything.

He is astonished, yet he replies nonchalantly. "Yeah."

You tighten your jaw. "Are we alright?" you press, brows knotting worriedly.

It nearly takes him a moment to answer. ".. Yeah, why wouldn't we be?" says Court, offering a small smile.

"Right," you murmur dubiously.

Reluctantly releasing the paper bag, you look straight into Court’s eyes and spot a flicker of emotion. But you can’t name it, and he turns away before you can scrutinize him further. Court strolls ahead to exit the cafe, while Claire trails behind with you. "See you next week, (N/N)." she waves with a toothy smile.

You hold the door open for her. "Yeah, see you." you manage a bright smile, even though it feels dejected.

Once Claire has climbed in the SUV, you give the father-daughter duo one last wave before returning inside the cafe.

"Why are you being a dickwad?" Claire immediately (verbally) pounces on Court.

He glares at her. "You're grounded," and carefully drives out of the parking lot.

"Seriously? That's what you're coming up with?" she questions, scoffing. "Court, it's the two of us against the world.. tell me why you're being a dickwad to the only person who'll ever be good to us."

"How are you sure (Y/N) is good?" he demands, knuckles blanching white as he tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "We don't know anything about her, she's as much a stranger as everyone else. She doesn't even know who we really are—" he pauses to sharply glance at Claire, "—How are you sure she won't pick money over us? Or her real family and friends over us?"

Claire is seething. "How is (Y/N) a stranger when each of us have our own late night talks with her?!"

Court shortly glances at her in shock.

She mirthlessly laughs. "Oh, yeah, buddy.. I know— way before she even mentioned it. The bedroom doors still have gaps, I've eavesdropped on some of your conversations. She also mentioned that you haven't walkie-talked to her for the past weeks. She's worried.. agitated, even.”

An imaginary elephant stomps on his chest, bruising his skin, cracking his ribs, and flattening his every organ. He doesn’t deserve your concern.

Claire breathes in and out, turning to the road ahead. “Look, I don't know who (Y/N) will pick, but it certainly won't be money. You know that as well as I do,” she pauses to regard Court. “So why are you being shitty to her?"

The blinker chirps periodically when Court signals that he’ll be making a right turn. He carefully rests the SUV by a vacant spot on the curb, pulls up the parking brake, and clenches his jaw. 

“Court, it’s the two of us against the world.. tell me why you're being a dickwad to the only person who'll ever be good to us.”

Keeping secrets from the only family he has is kind of pompous and shitty.

Expelling a hefty sigh, he starts to open up. "I'm avoiding her—"

Claire snorts. "No shit."

"—for my own sake."

Her eyebrows leap in astonishment.

He shortly closes his eyes when he soothes his forehead. "Every time she's at arms-length, all I think about is kidnapping her. Stealing her away from that guy— from the world. Telling her who I am.. who we are.” he glances at Claire with a sadly amused smirk, “That way, it’s the three of us against the world.”

Claire remains silent, either she’s letting him continue or she doesn’t have anything to say. It’s both.

“She just lays her eyes on me and my self-control slips like sand through my fingers,” Court releases his grip on the steering wheel, gazing at his rough appendages. “I don't think I'll be able to hold back any longer if she keeps nearing me."

"Oh, damn..” Claire breathes out, “Oh, damn… Oh, damn, Six! I didn't think you were in love!"

He regards her, both flabbergasted and discombobulated. Then he fully processes her words and flares like a red stoplight. "I wouldn't call it that,” he stammers, “I'm just—"

"Oh, yeah? Just what?" she questions, snickering.

"Just…” he trails off, glancing out the window, he notices his faint reflection morphing. It’s not him looking back at himself, it’s you. Every memory he has of you starts streaking across the glass like a fast-paced, slow-motion movie. The most recent images he has of you is you in the arms of the guy you’re dating and the way you looked at him earlier when you asked if the two of you were alright.

The two of you— we.

Him, her; I, you— us.

You have already considered him in your life. 

You’re at the door, opening it halfway, not wanting to overwhelm him too much and letting it be his decision to enter. Do you know what you’re doing already? Or is it still your subconscious taking the wheel?— Because either way, you’re letting him into your world, willing to let him have a piece of your life, and willing to know more about him.

Court sighs as he faces forward, scratching the side of his head, he shrugs. “I just think I like her more than I've allowed myself to like another person."

Claire stares at him, until she suddenly smacks him on the arm. “Ow! The hell was that for?!” he shrieks, bewildered.

She strikes him again, this time with a toothy grin. “I never pegged you as someone who can say such poetic words,” she coos, “You make Shakespeare run for his money.”

“Well, Shakespeare is overrated.”

“I dare you tweet that.”

Larceny.

Arson.

Attempted murder.

Necrophilia.

You're listing things that you're certain are reasons why Court is avoiding you. What happened last week is already enough proof, and you've hundred percent confirmed it during this week's Monday breakfast and Friday dinner.

He doesn't look you in the eye.

He's rigid whenever you're in close proximity with him.

His responses are always clipped when talking to you.

And he still hasn't engaged in the weekly late night talks with you through the walkie-talkie.

Other than illegal activities that you certainly do not engage in, you’ve been thinking and listing how you’ve been behaving around the father-daughter duo.

Did you say something explicit with Kiara at earshot?

Were you being racist without realizing?

Are you smothering them uncomfortably with hospitality?

You let out a cry, distressed voice bouncing from the bathroom’s ceiling to floor, seeping into the walls. You’ve just served the father-daughter duo their meals and decide to wallow in your anxiety in the staff bathroom. Because you might not be able to stop yourself from asking Court why he’s avoiding you. It’d be embarrassing if that isn’t the case.

But what if it is?— The next question would be: what have you done to make him avoid you?

Muro raps on the door. “(N/N)? Are you okay in there?”

“Yeah, just..!” you pause, “Feeling some cramps, you know, I might get my period tonight instead of next week.”

“Need any pads?”

“You have some?”

“NO— Mindy does.”

“Are you sure they’re not yours?”

“Bahala ka nga d’yan!” you hear Muro storming off.

You laugh and holler. “Sorry na!”

Standing in front of the mirror, you exchange nods with your reflection before you exit the bathroom. Just be cool. No matter how Court acts, just be your everyday waitress self.

"How's dinner?" you quirkily step up to their booth.

"Magnifique!" Claire exclaims, "I didn't think vinegar and soy sauce would go absolutely well together."

"Adobo certainly is magic," you wink at her and glance over to Court, who's silently finishing his meal. You clap your hands together, "Right, since dinner looks almost done.. would you two care for dessert?"

"We'll have our desserts to go, please." Court says without looking at you.

"Got another one of those hefty company projects, huh?" you reply, as though you’re knowledgeable about gruesome corporate deadlines.

"That's right."

You tighten your jaw when you feel the bubbling anger in your throat. However, the resistance does not pull on the reins of your exasperation. "We're out of strawberry shortcake today. Do you need the menu to choose for other desserts?" you ask, eyes and tone as sharp as the knives in Mindy's kitchen.

The father-daughter duo notices your edge and regards you in astonishment. This is the first time in a while since Court looked at you properly. Pro tip for anyone handling Court in the near future: vividly express your annoyance if he’s ignoring you.

You give him a bright, tight-lipped smile. “I’m asking so that I can immediately prepare the takeout and you won’t have to waste your energy going to the counter.”

“No, it’s fi—”

“Great! I’ll be back with the menu in five minutes,” you chirpily cut him off and sashay away to the counter.

Claire shares a look with Court before she frowns at him. “If I haven’t said this was gonna bite you in the ass, then I’ll say it now,” she pauses to clear her throat, pressing her palms together like she’s praying, she taps her fingertips to her lips and points her praying hands to him. “This was gonna bite you in the ass.”

“I don’t understand what she has to be mad about,” Court scoffs, stabbing the last piece of meat on his plate, biting it off the fork like a caveman.

“Seriously? You’ve been reducing contact with her, henceforth she’s mad.”—Claire waits for any realization on Court’s face, and when there’s none, she continues—“And she’s mad because.. she cares.”

Court ceases his chewing.

She gives him a look. “.. About you,” and sighs. “She cares about you, Six.”

He gulps, glancing over to you, he settles his gaze on the table. “Well, that’s not good for any of us.”

Claire quietly explodes. “How is that not—?!”

“Are you forgetting our quality of life, Claire Fitzroy?” Court sharply interjects, glowering. “We let anyone in, there’s a high chance they die. That may not have happened yet, but that doesn’t mean I’m up for testing the theory.”

The way he ends his argument indicates that there’s no leeway for a rebuttal. Claire hasn’t really come up with a counter yet. She watches as Court rigidly finishes his plate: face tight, shoulders squared, and anger oozing from him like sweat out of pores.

“Maraming salamat po! Sana nabusog po kayo sa aming cafe!” you beam at the group of customers departing from the vicinity, “Ingat kayo para makabalik kayo ulit dito!”

Thank you very much! I hope you all became full from our cafe! Be careful so that you can return here!

Claire watches you clear out the table that the customers used, catching you vaguely hum a funky tune. You appear quite content with your life. With that swing of your hips and a bounce in your step, you look like you can take on the world. She notices Court furtively glimpsing at you in her peripheral vision and recalls his words from last week.

“Every time she's at arms-length, all I think about is kidnapping her. Stealing her away from that guy— from the world. Telling her who I am.. who we are… That way, it’s the three of us against the world.”

She then connects it with Court’s recent statements. Her face brightens with cognizant, smiling stupidly yet sadly, she begins finishing her meal.

“At least you confirmed that you care about her, too.” she nonchalantly declares.

“What?” Court regards her quizzically, “I didn’t—”

She noisily sips on her drink. “Directly said so? True.”

"I don't c—"

"Now, we both know you'll be lying if you continue that sentence."

"... Whatever," he scoffs.

Shit.. you're really mad at him. Enraged, even.

Another week has passed, marking it to be a month since you dated Erick. And during their cafe breakfast and dinners, you've reciprocated a much colder demeanor than he could ever conjure. You're only genuinely smiling at Claire, dropping it whenever you lay eyes on him, as though he's that kid who's always stealing other kids' juicebox in preschool. Your sentences are razor-sharp despite being up to 3 words long. You've been keeping your distance, always in close proximity with Claire, evading him like he has a viral infection.

Court did not expect that two could play this game. And he’s on a losing streak right off the bat when you joined.

He also did not expect how it’s more painful to have you ignoring him. However, this rift makes it easier to sledgehammer the relationship you two have been building.

So why is it that he’s currently driving out of the house, with Claire asleep and buckled in the backseat, and with the intent of reconstructing his friendship with you?

‘Friends..’ his inner self scoffs derisively.

‘Better than nothing,’ he replies as fast as a gunshot.

One of the guards slides the gate outwards and salutes to Court as he drives out of the subdivision. He halts the SUV, glancing from left to right, and shortly watches as a motorcycle gently swings off the highway. The rider honks thrice and they stop right beside the SUV.

Court’s eyes widen when they take off the helmet.

A/N: is it just me or this chapter feels like a rollercoaster? HAHAHAH i am absolutely reeling after revising this

Follow the map to Chapter 13, it'll reveal the location in the near future.. AND THERE IT IS

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