#remember le mans... don't you want to do another le mans... please do another le mans... even a catalunya... come on... please

[batsplat]

jorge martin is just an off-brand motogp version of george russell. both incredible qualifiers, hard racers, have issues sometimes keeping their tyres together, have stayed in a satellite/backmarker team for three years begging the big manufacturer to accept them into the main fold and will randomly decide that they are actually done with race by beefing it into the gravel/walls on the last laps.

this is why ducati did not hire martin, he hasn’t done the power point presentation

strong last line but hm... do I agree with this...

I don't entirely disagree with the profile of racer, though jorge's a bit more in the flame bright and early mould (partly also just because of the different rhythms of those two racing series). he cut his teeth not just on being an exceptional qualifier but also a starter. even though this year, you do kinda have to say pecco's just?? uh?? he's never been a BAD starter but I swear he didn't used to be this good? some of his starts from the second or third row this year have been genuine works of art. this isn't relevant, just needed to mention it. that's part of why jorge does so well at sprints... he's really good at that abbreviated format, where it's just all out from the very start. mr russell was considered quite a poor starter in his williams days (though lbr that may have partly been car characteristics) - the qualifying's very strong and very consistent, but for a while the question was of capitalising off the line. he's got a few more drives that are about working his way through the field... like qatar last year. I just don't really associate jorge with that?

the bottling thing is debatable and we could get into that debate, but like, never mind that. we're leaving sports analysis now and getting back into vibes territory. the thing about jorge is that he has had a competitive bike from the word go. mr russell, whatever you think about how clutch he is or isn't, did not set a foot wrong in terms of making the mercedes case for himself. what happened with him was basically just... a series of unfortunate events that got him stuck in a spectacularly uncompetitive car for three years. got one shot in a good car in said three years (sakhir 2020) and delivered the perfect performance. but jorge!! jorge had 2022!! he blew it!! he did get unlucky with the gp22 vs the gp21 comparison early that season and how bastianini was able to take advantage of the early stage factory spec malaise, and he's far from the only gp22 who was struggling early on (cf one 'pecco bagnaia'). but still, some of his rides that year were. truly horrendous. and the way the whole thing played out left him with a massive chip on the shoulder.... that's the thing, right, I think what's so key about jorge is that sense of grievance, the fact that he was rejected for that factory seat and we're now several years on from that. and it's a really thin line between that being a good thing and a bad thing. like, anything that's a potential source of motivation fundamentally can be helpful, right? in 2007, casey showed up at ducati as not their first choice, kinda a stopgap, and also after yamaha had pulled the plug on a potential contract not once but twice. he has spoken again and again how yamaha and honda's behaviour towards him made him want to show them exactly what they were missing out on. he used that! it was good for him as a competitor that he had something to get worked up over! he's done it throughout his career! but on the flip side, if you're so busy feeling victimised that you're kind of already... primed for failure, then you've got a problem. like, if the takeaway is you're probably screwed anyway because you're being sabotaged by the factory, then even if that were true you're fucked before you start competing. you've already lost in your own head, you've made excuses before you've even started. it's a thin line! thinking the world is out to get you can either be a good way to get yourself to going, or it can be a loser mindset

quickly circling back to georgie boy, my main feeling is that they kinda have a different type of malaise. one is an overthinker and the other is at times very much an under-thinker. grussy actually shares the overthinking trait with his fellow 63 more than anyone else... all three kinda have this fun meeting point of a lot of cockiness and a lot of insecurity - they just balance them in other ways. and russell reminds me more of pecco in that kind of... being constantly thrown up against a Big Legacy of someone you admire, being in the shadow of greats and having to make your own name... you're very much part of a succession plan that leaves you with massive shoes to fill... (though admittedly grussy has also gone through the unenviable experience of getting to work closely with his hero and eventually having most of said hero's fans absolutely despise him. can happen, I suppose.) jorge is a bit more baggage-free. he's very much the main character in his own story, not so much faffing about with the narrative implications of all this shit. more straightforward! if jorge wins, it's about him. if he loses, it's also about him. ducati has been his world for the past few years, to the point where he's gotten a bit parochial about the whole thing. early this season, he was talking like - sure, the championship lead is important, BUT this is also giving him power in contract negotiations!! which... yes, that's true, but also that should be way down the order of priorities my man. jorge martin might be the only person in this universe who... genuinely might be more obsessed with beating pecco than marc? like, beating the marc marquez would be great and all, 8x world champion bla bla, but pecco is his personal antagonist! he's known him for years! that's ducati's golden boy! he needs to beat pecco so badly! there's something really fun about a rivalry where it feels like at least one side's feelings towards the other... kinda go beyond a personal relationship, like at a certain point it becomes about what the other guy Represents. jorge isn't worried about legacy and the shoes he's got to fill and can he truly live up to all those expectations as much as he's worried about himself and also occasionally pecco bagnaia

anyway, I've been thinking about the bottling thing... what jorge said about it earlier's been rattling around in my head since I saw the quote

man, it must be really tough, right? like, you don't know why it's happening... it's not just cockiness - though there is an element of someone who's kinda used to bulldozing his way through problems with sheer obstinacy and stubborn self belief (another distinction with the 63's, who are more introspective and prone to self-flagellation following mistakes). but it's also just... you can't figure out why it's such a fundamental shortcoming of your game! today, from the way pecco and also luca (apparently) were talking about it, it seems like there was something noticeable about how jorge was gradually losing a bit in his control and precision as a result of how the tyres were going off, as a sort of precursor of the fatal error. which... well, it's at least a somewhat understandable mistake, because it comes from pressure? it's not just the tyres going off each time - the mugello sprint crash was lap four, jerez was lap ten. but an interesting thing about his big errors this year is that they have all come as a result of serious pressure - as a result of pecco directly behind him in the case of jerez and sachsenring and like... in anticipation of the massive points damage he knew he was probably going to take in mugello. it sounds obvious to say pressure is more likely to generate mistakes, but of course that's not always true of our title contenders! pecco only really wakes up when he's already dug a hole halfway to the centre of the earth - but when he faces actual pressure, his track record is mostly very strong. his biggest howlers this season, portimao + catalunya sprints, both came when he was leading comfortably. martin has also made these pressure-light mistakes in the past, most memorably indonesia last year but... well

one of the most fascinating bits of sports are like... limits and ceilings and how your build-up as an athlete kinda determines what's possible for you. like, sports is sort of where you experiment with notions of fate and inevitability and all that, where you question whether it's possible for anyone to ever really change. is it once a choker, always a choker? if you know that you have this problem, this flaw that is always just there in the background, waiting to be actualised - what can you do? does it give you more or less hope that there's not a clear root cause? how debilitating that must be for confidence too, always knowing that you could cause everything you've worked for to crash down in a moment.... this is where. y'know, the thing with pecco, right, is that he's now gotten to a weird place where psychologically he has to be wary of the mistakes he himself makes - but he knows that he can also bounce back from them. he has that muscle memory, because he's done it before. he chucked it down the road in india and he won the title! jorge did it in thailand and he didn't! and the problem is that it becomes a self-reinforcing cycle of sorts, because even though the margin between the two of them at the end of last year ended up being relatively slim... one of them still won and one of them still lost. which actually means that even though pecco and jorge both have made serious mistakes this year (though pecco's track record is cleaner - in portimao the points punishment didn't quite fit the crime and in the jerez/le mans sprints he was kinda just unlucky), only one of them knows they can do this shit and win the title anyway

and now jorge has an entire summer break to go away and think about that. can be a good thing, get some distance, and it's easy to slip into a run of bad form that you can't escape if there's no interruption. can be an awful thing because you're sitting with your mistakes for weeks on end with no chance to rectify them. I'm naturally a pessimist on the 'can any athlete ever really change' question because life has very much worn me down on this topic over the last few years (aka some sports results made me really sad). but I always want to be optimistic! I want to believe athletes can fix their fatal flaws! I want to believe they can get better at managing their tyres and not folding under pressure. and pressure works weirdly... sometimes it's not really a test of 'mental strength' as much as it is of what kind of in-built margin an athlete has (btw this is my best guess for what goes wrong with martin). sometimes it's beneficial in sharpening the mind and erasing the possibility of you just... not being sufficiently concentrated (which is my best guess for what happens with pecco when he's not being pressured). can you truly get better at dealing with that? or at a certain point, have you already accumulated so much mental scar tissue that you're always going to get in your own way? who knows! maybe we're all doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past forever and ever. who knows

anyway. in response to this ask. I do think it's more a case of 63's aligned in being too stuck in their own head, too concerned with legacy, and walking a very thin line between arrogance and insecurity. all three of them, though, have a bad case of 'coming through the ranks in an era of greats they'll always be disparagingly compared to'. what's new can never be as good as what came before, right? and they're constantly struggling to manage or maybe even overcome basic flaws that seem to be embedded in their make up as competitors... maybe they'll make it, just a little. maybe they never will. but it sure is fun to watch them try!

[stinkysam]

Serge “Frenchie” - Gris.

Warning : none

Genre : fluff

Synopsis : “Hey! it’s me again, so i just finished s4 of the boys and boy am i feeling bad for frenchie. i mean that poor guy just feels so unloved and unsafe like idk i mean ofc kimiko is like the closest he has to a safe person but i fell like he needs a home in form of another person yk?! Just give him a break ok. I NEED TO SEE THIS COMFORTED AND HUGGED AND SMOCHED!!! please i need some fluffy and kissing happiness for him.” - @jadenisdead

Reader : gender neutral (you/yours)

Everything was silent except for the TV playing a documentary quietly.

Frenchie was laying on the couch, facing the TV, seemingly watching it. Though you knew something was up as he wasn't making any comments about what he was learning.

You thought he was just zoned out so you said nothing and hung the laundry on the drying rack by the open window behind the couch. You often stopped to pay attention to the documentary before going back to your task after a few minutes.

Suddenly Frenchie spoke.

“Pourquoi tu m'aimes ?” He asked, sitting up and turning around so he could look at you.

“Quoi ?” You said, not sure you had heard correctly, waiting for him to repeat himself.

But he didn't, staring at you with sad eyes instead.

You put what you were holding back in the basket on the floor and walked around the couch to sit next to him.

“Why I love you ?”

“Oui.” He then looks at the TV. “I just- I wonder- You and Kimiko… Pourquoi ? Ça n'a pas de sens.” He said, looking back at you.

“Because you make me happy ?” You reply, unsure of how to answer.

“But why ?”

“You're funny, kind… you're French, that helps.” You chuckle at the last bit. “It really does. Just like how you have your own thing with Kimiko by being the only one who understands when she signs.”

“But I killed people. Families. I'm not a good person, you shouldn't love me.”

“I didn't say I love you because you're a good person. I vaguely know your history, what you allowed me to know. But I know you're trying to change, to be better.” You looked at him, nudging him. “I think that has to matter a bit, non ?”

He shrugged, looking down, unsure.

“You're not killing for Little Nina anymore.” You added.

“For le Charcutier, now. Same thing.” He said with a shrug feeling upset about it.

“No. You're trying to make something good out of it. Sometimes to do good you have to get your hands dirty.” You started, placing your hand on his back to gently rub it. “Look at Hughie. You see what I mean ? Not wanting to kill Translucent, then doing it, taking temp V to go after Soldier Boy and teleporting into those Russian soldiers, working for Neuman, then going back to us. I'm not saying what we're doing is good or the right way, but it's for a better future. You're not killing just because Burcher told you to.”

He said nothing, letting the words sink in as he thought about them. You must be right, no ? Like Hughie you always tried to find a better way.

“What you did with Kimiko, that's what a good man would've done, so I don't believe you're completely bad, or not anymore.” You stay silent for a moment, thinking. “Redemption exists, I can't say if you deserve it or not, maybe only Jesus or God could but it's up to you to balance out the bad you've done. I think ? Keep trying to do better.”

You looked at him, scanning his reaction.

“You believe so ?”

“I love you because there's good in you. Nothing is all black or white, it's all shades of grey, It's hard to remember that, I know, but it's true. You're just nuanced.”

He sighed, and leaned against you, resting his head on your shoulder, grabbing your hand.

“I wish I wasn't this nuanced.”

“I know. But that's what makes you you. You'd be different if you had a different past.” You squeezed his hand, your thumb gently caressing his skin. You kissed the top of his head before letting yours rest on top of his.

Silence fell, both thinking.

“Désolé, this was really out of the blue.” He said, now feeling bad and embarrassed for worrying you and for the serious conversation.

“You don't need to apologize. I love you. I understand that sometimes the past can be heavy to carry. But with it you can make a better future.”

“I still don't believe you should love me. J'ai causé trop de souffrances.” He said, looking at you.

“But not to me. Not to Kimiko. Not to the boys. Do you understand ? You're not all black and bad, you're not who you used to be.” You moved his hand, raising it to your lips to kiss it. “It's good to remember what you did, but don't let it stop you from doing better. Don't let the past freeze you or define you.”

“Je sais. But what we're doing… It's…” He frowned, not finding the words he wanted to use. Working with the boys is not good. There's pain and death following you all. But it's not completely bad as it's for a greater cause.

“I know. But as soon as we can, as soon as we find a way to stop Homelander, we put him down and leave. We will go to France with Kimiko. There will be no more violence or killing. Just peaceful life.”

He chuckled. Deep down, he felt like this moment would never come. They'll never find a weapon or poison to kill Homelander. Only their death awaits them.

“Be a little more patient, I promise you our dream will come true.”

“I hope you're right.” He said quietly, scooting a bit closer.

You stayed silent for a moment before speaking again.

“You can ask Kimiko too, why she loves you, she'll tell you the same thing as me. And she knows what killing for other people do. She knows she's not a good person because she has killed and still kills, but she's trying to do better and to heal as well.” You paused, looking at him. “But does it stop you from loving her ?”

“...Non.”

“Voilà.”

He said nothing for a second before squeezing your hand.

“Merci…”

“Of course.” You kissed the top of his head before letting go of his hand to wrap your arms around him, pulling him closer, letting him rest in your arms. “I love you.”

Though Frenchie struggled to agree with everything you said, he still felt a bit better knowing you loved him despite not knowing his past. He felt glad he had you and Kimiko to support him and help him be better.

“Je t'aime aussi, mon cœur.” He said quietly, closing his eyes, enjoying your warmth. “Did you know oysters can change genders multiple times ?”

You chuckled, holding him tighter.

“Yeah, they said it in an old French movie I saw recently.” You kissed his forehead as you both slowly focused back on the documentary playing.

You stayed like this, cuddling on the couch for the rest of the afternoon and slowly, Frenchie’s worries were washed away.

They didn't completely disappear, but he was happy again. Feeling loved and safe.

Traductions - Translations

Pourquoi tu m'aimes ? - Why do you love me ?

Pourquoi ? Ça n'a pas de sens. - Why ? It doesn't make any sense.

J'ai causé trop de souffrances. - I caused too much pain.

[neolynne]

Pit Babe episode 5 rewatch/live commentary (part 2)

Hello boys !!!

he's so pretty🥹

Once again, North and Sonic are the sweetest toward Babe.

First : Hiiiii Dean, second : that jacket is fire

Way experiencing a very intense emotional whiplash -> Babe telling him that he leave the race to him WHILE holding his hand and the next second, Babe is calling Charlie, who came running like a puppy 🤣🤣🤣

Dean asking Charlie to take care of Babe -> see he was the sweetest 😭😭😭(and i'm adding that to my "Charlie and Dean could have been great friend/rival" agenda)

Hiiiii Kim !!!!

Does he look happy to you Babe ? That's more the face of someone who had not had a good night of sleep in the last few days and drank too much coffee

And as some of you might know, everyday is everyday

That not a nice way to talk about your future pack

He was so offended by Babe's innuendos, it's so cute

So, either Kim is a bad judge of character and naive for trusting Winner words, or he knows Winner enough to trust him on that one....

An now it's Kim turn to regret every single life choice he ever made

Jeff look so soft and fluffy

Yes, block his ass baby!

Detective Kim Minsu just entered the stage

Wait wait wait, the "stranger-to-almost lover" plot is starting

Hiiiiii Pete !!!!

Do i or do i not shake hand with that very attractive man ?

Is that very attractive man shaking my hand ?

(Good time to remember that Nut had the cutest crush on Ping during Boys journey)

Did they just jump right into the full domestic life before becoming official boyfriends ?

Also it's officially Babe = babygirl

Or you could take that shower together ?

Beautiful

Kenta bracing himself before Tony start speaking

Go f*ck yourself Tony !!!!

Well for some reason Kenta cares about the racing (i wonder why...). The way his entire expression change when Tony calls it a "shitty championship"

1, no one deserve that. 2, Forget about f*cking yourself Tony, you can go drown in a septic tank !

Hehe tiddies (and n*pple)🤓

No, don't cry 😭

That one way to put it

Also, is Diner the only club in the city ?

One day, i will make a post with only gifs of every single Babe's pout

Quick thinking here Charlie

And the two of you will always be special to ME !!!

Teacher Babe is ba-ack !

You can do it Charlie

oh my god, he's so giddy when Charlie take care of him

Yes he is

I love cheeks kisses too

Charlie's taking note for the future dates

Baby Babe ! And he was the curious puppy back then.

i.....he.......just look at him after Charlie's declared that he would be by his side

Hiiiii Dean !!!

One of the only mention in the show that North and Sonic are also racer

oh Dean, you're in for a world of heartbreak and disappointment

Sonic hopping from one couch to another when there is literally 3 place on that couch (not wanting to be to close to creepy Way ?....i'm joking....)

ah Babe , le tact, c'est vraiment pas son fort

And there is no coming back for Dean starting now

Awww caring boyfriend

I love this scene between CharlieBabe : Babe softness in is action, is confidence in Charlie, the fact that he keep his hands on Charlie will talking to him, the flirty banter....Babe smile (that man is so in love)

He was ready to kiss his boy right there -> choose to pat his head

All three of them look worried (for different reason) after hearing Alan plan

Please, tell me your joking Nut, because cold ?????

More please.....

Garfield is so cute !

Episode 5 done !!! See you for episode 6 (that one gonna be a long one i think)

[pinievsev]

1."I could kiss you right now" with Kent from the serie of wednesday netflix, pretty please? :,3

Ayeee some love for my siren man! Les go!

(had to make my own GIF because I couldn't find one)

(also, there isn't much info on him except for the fact that he is Divina's twin brother, so I'll try my best <3)

POE CUP!

Pairing: Kent (last name unknown) X !gn!seer reader

Seer: a person of supposed supernatural insight who sees visions of the future.

Warnings: swearing, kissing,a little long.

Prompts used: 1. "I could kiss you right now"

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"oh we're so going to win!" Enid cheered as you waited for Wednesday to get dressed outside of the tent "I hope so" you said, you were scared, Bianca always won the poe cup. Enid was really happy to have you and Wednesday on her team, you've never talked to alot of people. Wednesday and Enid happened to see you sitting on your own and Enid wanted to be your friend.

"oh come on, cheer up! With wednesday's ideas, we'll be unstoppable!" You laughed at that and just as you were about to agree Wednesday walked out and Enid gasped in excitement "omg. You look purr-fect" you wheezed at that "hey, Wednesday, where are your whiskers?' you teased, possibly having a death wish. Wednesday glared at you "ask again and you'll be down to eight lives" you nodded akwardly "got it-"

You sat in the canoe, looking around at the other teams. Bianca was glaring at Wednesday who turned her head and told her something you couldn't hear. "let the poe cup begin" you heard Weems say followed by a gunshot and started paddling, "go go go".

Two of the teams were down it was now your team, Bianca's and Xavier's. Wednesday went to get the flag with the others while you stayed back with Enid. She went over to another canoe but you didn't pay attention. You narrowed your eyes looking at the lake, you swore you saw a fin, "what..?" You whispered to yourself. "What?" Enid asked. "Nothing, nothing" she nodded and just then Xavier and his teammates came running back with their flag, Wednesday nowhere in sight. "Shit" you mumbled. Just then. Wednesday made it back "yes okay! Let's go!" You shouted.

You just took down Xavier's team, just as you thought you would win you saw the fin again, and so did Wednesday, "see it?" You whispered to her and she nodded, "thing" she, basically, commanded her... Hand companion who pulled a lever. You had no idea what it did but, you didn't ask.

You did it you won! You were cheering at the finish line. A while later as you were about to leave since barely anyone was there you saw Divina looking at the lake worriedly, you didn't hate her, she didn't do anything to you really, not like Bianca,not to mention you've had a crush on her brother for like, forever. So, you walked up to her and put your hand on her shoulder making her jump "hey, you alright?" You asked and she shook her head "it's nothing" you sighed "I won't tell, what's up?" You assured her. "Fine, well. We had my brother, you know, Kent, take the other teams down underwater, but, he hasn't come back up yet"

Your eyes widened, you knew you had seen something. "Seriously?" She nodded looking at the lake once again, waiting for her brother. Then you remembered, the lever!, Oh god what had Wednesday done! "Can you not go look for him?" You asked and she shook her head "no I-" you put your hands up "it's ok, you don't have to explain yourself, uhm" just then you saw thing running up to you, "thing!" You yelled, "what are you doing here?" Turns out Enid was worried about you and sent thing to find you, "okay, I need a really big favour" thing gave you a thumbs up "great, okay, could you go underwater and look for anyone trapped perhaps" giving you a thumbs up again thing ran to the water and jumped in.

A couple of minutes later, you were trying to reassure Divina, who had started to panic when you heard something coming form the lake, you turned your head and saw Kent and thing climbing on the dock. Both you and Divina ran up to them and she hugged her brother "oh thank god" she turned to you "thank you! Seriously!" You were surprised, you've never seen her look so vulnerable "it's no problem, you should be thanking thing" she looked at thing weirdly "or not-" you laughed "what the hell?!" You heard from behind Divina, she moved a bit and you saw Kent glaring at you "what was that?" "What was what?" You asked "the fucking net?!" Your eyes widened "a net?!" He nodded confused, "yeah-?" You shook your head "I had absolutely no idea- seriously" Divina then perked up "I'll go get your shirt" she laughed realising her brother had been half naked the whole time.

Realising that yourself you blushed, looking away hoping he wouldn't see you. Divina ran off and you just stayed there staring at, nothing in particular when you felt something scratch your leg "ow, what the fuck, what?" You looked down at thing who pointed behind you. You turned around only to see Kent staring at you. "Yes-?" You asked confused "you send the hand down there didn't you?" He asked "yeah, I did" he took a step forward "why?.." you had alot of reasons "Divina was having a panic attack, I couldn't just leave her alone here" that wasn't entirely a lie, but you weren't going to confess to him. "Seriously? That's all" he asked lifting an eyebrow "yeah.." you took a step back forgetting you were at the docks "WHOA-" you fell back and in the water, you looked up to see Kent doubled over laughing, 'what is taking her so long?' you thought.

"some help would be real nice" he sighed, wiping away fake tears "okay, okay here" he reached down to help you out but you pulled him in instead "OI, WHAT THE FUCK?" now it was your turn to laugh "payback for laughing at me" your cheeks hurt from laughing, you closed your eyes trying to calm yourself down, when you opened them again, you were greeted by Kent once again staring at you "what?" He smirked at you "I could kiss you right now..." He admitted, you blushed and looked away again, "why don't you?" You mumbled, but to your dismay he heard.

"good question, why don't I?" He reached out to you, pulling you closer, you had forgotten you were still in the water "should I?" He asked and you gulped, not answering "I'll take that as a yes" he smirked again and pulled you even closer one hand on your cheeks the other around your waist and kissed you, it took you a second to realise what was happening and when he was about to pull away you pulled him back in, you could feel him smiling against your lips, and when you finally pulled back you smiled, like him, not a smirk this time, it was a genuine smile, "I'm guessing that means you'll go on a date with me yes?" You nodded "yeah" "good" he pulled you back in when "OH MY GOD EW, SERIOUSLY?" you heard Divina and your eyes widened, and you turned around to see her holding Kent's shirt. Rushing you climbed back on the dock looking down at yourself, good thing you hadn't changed yet.

You heard Kent laughing at you, probably for getting so flustered "shut up" you yelled making him laugh even more.

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Eye! I have 10 more requests to write so I'll get it that! Hope you liked it! It was a little hard to write but I did it!!

Taglist: @ke1ramar1e , @georgi-salva , @arson-the-royal , @falleni0-hq , @mindflay3r , @rottenstyx , @alice0blog , @nova-lov3su , @elduster , @countsmoon , @biggestsimponhere , @andreeasancheez , @justmanu , @yourmidnightlover , @whitewingsh ,@hwrtsiren

[ilottthepilot]

Cant remember for the life of me if youve already discussed this but I need to know your opinon on Callum (there aren't even rumours so pulling this out of my ass) going back to Indy to race for prema? Or do you reckon he'll stay in WEC?

Heyy, I haven't really discussed it on here I think, but I have been thinking a LOT about it.

Edit: adding a cut here because it really was more than i expected to write😭

What I ideally want, is that he gets a full time Mclaren Indycar seat. While I love prema and I'm super excited for them to come to Indycar, I would oviously prefer to see him at an established team, close to the top. I think Callum has also said at the beginning of the year that he is happy in WEC and he would only consider coming back to Indycar if it's with a top team (i don't think he said it this emphatically but that was the sentiment). Now, obviously Prema could be an exception here, because they have history together and he at some level knows what he can expect from the team. Also, importantly, they are already quite an established and serious operation (Alexander Rossi called prema basically an f1 team in one of his recent podcast episodes).

At the same time, there are definitely arguments for staying in WEC. I think hypercar drivers can get paid quite well?? (I think i read that in some Indycar article a few months ago. If anyone knows more about that PLEASE let me know. I have been googling a bit about hypercar salaries but Ican find nothing. I'm pretty sure the other endurance categories have mainly pay drivers but idk about hypercar.) Anyways, if he's getting a nice salary in WEC, switching back to Indycar is also a financial question. I know Mclaren would have no trouble paying him decently, but I have no idea where Prema will stand on the pay driver front. I can also imagine that living in Europe and not Indianapolis is a bonus for him.

It's also important to note that he has only had two WEC races with Jota so far. They seem pretty competitive with that first podium, but i imagine their performance at Le Mans for example will be a big factor in if he wants to stay.

All in all, i think if Mclaren offers him a drive, he will definitely come back to indy. For that to happen thogh the options are

a) they add a 4th car (idk if that works with the number of engines? But i have seen it discussed in the past)

b) David gets replaced. I mean, the rumor is that that could happen soon with all the complications surrounding his recovery. If that happens, i assume Théo will take the seat because i'm pretty sure that Callum's WEC contract is airtight and Jota won't let him fuck off to Indycar whenever he wants. There are a lot of clashes later in the season. What David loding his seat would mean for next year is anyone's guess.

c) Alex gets replaced. Remember when Prema said they want an "Indycar veteran" and young talent they developed in their cars? I don't know what they define as a "veteran", but I picture someone over 30? I think he could be an option for them, because he is good, but he doesn't seem as tightly tied to his team as most of the other older top drivers seem to be. I think Prema has enough clout internationally that they wouldn't just take anyone. Additionally, he has spoken super positively about Prema on his podcast.

If Mclaren isn't an option, I honestly have no idea if he would pick WEC or Prema. I do think Prema is probably in contact with him because he seems like such an obvious choice. I also always get the feeling that WEC is something a top level driver can always come back to, simply because there are so many seats. Obviously, a lot of people want that Jota seat, and there is no guarantee of getting one as good again, but I think there is more of a tendency in single seaters to forget about drivers once they miss a season or two. F1 is the worst with this, I don't think it's nearly as bad in Indy, but his career is still losing momentum. I think if he wants another try at Indy, he should probably give it a go sooner, rather than later.

Now what do I want? I would love to see Callum in Indycar again. Both WEC and Indycar aren't available on free TV here, so it's much more of a concious effort for me to seek out some link to watch a race, than it is to turn on F1/F2/FE/Motogp etc. Indycar interests me enough that i do regularly go out of my way to find a way to watch it. The thing with WEC is that I already spend way too much time most weekends thinking of motorsports. I really can't find the time to tune into an endurance race throughout the day. I know I don't have to watch all of it, but I simply am not invested enough for this to appeal to me. What I am doing now is simply refreshing the live timing like once an hour while I go about my day, to check in on how callum and mick are doing. So from my perspective, Indycar, which I sometimes watch anyway, would be way more convenient😅

About Prema specifically, I have to say I have been watching so many Prema youtube videos recently, wishing that they made them to this extent while Callum was there. If he does end up there, I will be obsessed and use every bit of delusion to manifest some wins.

Wow, you asked for an opinion, sorry for writing a whole ass essay😭

TLDR: i have no idea what will happen, i want callum to come back to indycar but mainly i want him at a good team

[aceofspades-sml]

Newsies 30/07 matinee - closing matinee

So yes the show closed almost a month ago but I just found this in my drafts and realized I never actually published my notes from this show so... Here you go ! (Also let me know if you want my actual notes from closing night because I just kept ranting about random moments but can totally do an organized post if required)

Cast : all the main actors were on, Les was played by Harry and Bobbie did Hannah but not Splint since she was still sick

Josh's presence on stage at the beggining is so good- like man just owns the stage for the first 30 seconds and oh boy does he enjoy it. Race of all times.

After Buttons steals apples at the beginning he gives one to Ike and then they both spot Tommy boy kind of sulking in a corner and Ike throws him an apple while they both look at him like "take care, kid"

When Tommy boy comes back on for Carrying the banner the apple is still in his hand and I think it's adorable

Matthew was definitely already losing it in the Prologue and like. Mood. I kid you not he was crying for the whole show

Carrying the banner being the mess it usually is

Jacob Albert was back and ready to throw hands with anyone coming close to him. Especially if that person happened to be Oscar Delancey.

"Whatever happened to rOmAnCe"

Henry getting on his knees and crawling toward Wiesel with a pout and Wiesel just sighing and giving him the papes

Harry was such a cute Les oh my god. Actually everytime he was onstage I just kept turning toward my friend mouthing "he is adorable" but like he is so precious and must be protected at all costs

"and guess what ? 🎶He got elected🎶"

"buy a pape from a poor orphan boy ?" "nO he's not an orph-" ft jack holding his boyfriend back

"why don't you come home with us fordinnerimean"

Bowery beauties <3 also Lillie Pearl giving Les a feather from her costume while Davey's entire attitude is just "les NO"

For the first time I noticed Specs and Albert on top of the stage directing the lights during that's rich I love them

Also during That's rich Ike, Buttons and another newsie (if anyone remembers who PLEASE tell me i can't believe I forgot) are watching the show and they are a mess

"hey baby I was just talking about you !" *points at Ike* ft Ike standing up super excited and Buttons going "sit DOWN" while violently gesturing to prove Medda was pointing at him

And then "Life is too short to waste it on youuuu" *points again* and Buttons just mimics following her finger like "see she is pointing at ME"

Anyway also Alex looking at Lindsay for the whole song

When Albert is getting back down after That's rich and Katherine arrives he just looks impressed and stands aside

"we got a father too !" Davey desperatly trying to get his brother to stop talking

Oscar pacing back and forth before world will know while Morris is just sitting there with his legs hanging from the structure

I don't know if it was just me or because I was really close to the stage for the first time or something but Wold will know was the most intense I have ever heard ?? As in I always get chills during this song but then more than usual. Even in the evening it wasn't like that idk this one was just super intense I loved it

Finch physically dragging Crutchie away from the gates of the World after jack, Davey and les are thrown out

"two cents for a glass of seltzer ? Just give me a watah" then Race (who is sitting at albert's table) snatching the glass of seltzer from Jacobi's plate and Jacobi just grabs it right back in a way that says 1- he was expecting it 2- this is totally a thing Racer does every time

Race then proceeds to look personally offended for the next five minutes of the show

"I would say we launched our strike in the most auspicious manner" *longest silence you ever heard* "I dunno about thaAT"

Another one to add to the list of "who wants Brooklyn ?" reactions : mark spending a good minute wrapping his neck ribbon thingy around his eyes

"why don't I tell you what I'm hoping for for tonIgHt" and "can't you see it ? In my eyyyyes ?" This is true comedy right here. Jack trying so hard to be a straight guy and failing miserably.

Bronté legend queen goddess nailing the best Watch what happens ever

When the scabs arrive and Albert just shoves Tommy boy so hard he falls on the floor and Buttons has to help him up oh my god

Anyway I will make no comments about Seize the day nor Santa fe because I was bawling my eyes out at this point. And so was everyone on stage. All I can say is during the name call when it was Les's turn everyone started cheering and it was the cutest moment ever

ANYWAY king of new york my baby love of my life

Everyone rolling their eyes to high heaven when Katherine shows up

"the world's your erster !" Josh Race ceo of saying the dumbest things you have ever heard with an unmatched level of confidence

Featuring Henry's entire "what the absolute hell" attitude I love him like "your WHAT ?????"

I could talk about this scene for hours but anyway sitting in the bronx was so scary when they started spinning on the lamps lmao

The spoon crown is still the cutest thing ever done in newsies to this date <3

And like I never talk about it but I absolutely love how they removed the awkward moment when Katherine starts tap dancing and they all look at her legs because urgh I always hated this moment. But here ? Nothing ! They are just having good fun !

Anyway Matthew already crying during Letter absolutely broke me so I won't talk about it

Did I ever mention Davey is gay

"Front page news above the fold ! Oh yes. Above *flips paper* the *flap* fold *flip* !"

WWH reprise had me absolutely dying because of how adorable Les was okay bye

"Can we table the palaver and *angrily stomps foot* go back to business ??"

Jack and Davey are gay. If you even care.

The scene in Pulitzer's office is always so heartbreaking because you have jack being so confident and all but then the second Katherine appears you can see how heartbroken and lost he is

Michael's facial expressions >>>

Also the way he just has a flight reflex the second Snyder appears like urgh

And Oscar and Morris grab him violently and one of them (I wanna say Morris ?) growls "let's don't" like Jack is trapped in every way possible

Brooklyn's here my baby my angel love of my life

As much as I missed Stray I absolutely loved Lucy's energy on "when you doooo" and her lil high five with Spot

Brooklyn girlsies have my heart now and forever like "Pips !" "Ritz !" "Mack !" "SPOT !!"

Queens

Anyway the rally was. something. I was finally able to catch some of the unscripted comments (what with being in the bronx and all) such as Tommy boy going "how is that realistic ??" and it just made the whole thing so much more heartbreaking

Also the way Davey has to build up so much confidence to speak in front of everyone and then Jack arrives and turn everything he just did to nothing

Finch booing Jack with his whole chest is honestly one of the best moments of the show he just puts his whole heart into this

Gosh I had missed Michael and Bronté's dynamic during Something to believe in they are. they were. them. the best.

"It's good to have you back" "...shut up"

Jack's reaction to bill and darcy will never not be funny because he fully says "I suppose you are the son of William Randolph hearst ?" as a joke and then Bill answers with the straightest face possible and Jack is left like "?????" (Picture that one Pikachu gif if it helps because that's exactly the face Michael makes at this moment)

Spot and Race were flirting idc

"he can't talk right now he'll call you bAcK" *hangs up* *picks up the phone again* *incoherent sobbing*

"no you can't come i-" see uksies is great because they actually made spot scary. Lillie Pearl just has to stomp in front of Bunsen and he backs up to the other end of the stage

I missed almost the whole scene in Pulitzer's office after Once and for all because I was busy looking at Ross Lindsay and Josh in the aisles behind me leave me alone. Also because I was sat right opposite ross's sister and they just spent the whole scene waving at each other

"I am told we once shared a carriage ride !" "I TOLD YOU"

Roosevelt pointing at Les and harry's reaction was just adorable

There is something so personal about Race just going "it's Snyder the spider !" in such a genuinely mean way and Tommy boy having to physically hold him back and dragging him away so he can chill

Anyway I was full on sobbing at the end but during the bows I could see Ryan and Harry making up their bow choregraphy in the back and they were adorable

...this got way longer than I expected I am so sorry I think I am slightly in denial

[apneicodette]

Corvus corax II

ᴛᴀʙʟᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛꜱ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪ -> ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪɪɪ

A scaramouche x [gender netural] reader story

♫ J’ai pas fait semblant, je te jure. J’ai jamais dit non, j’ai juste. Laissé le temps courir, partir, venir, mourir, courir, partir, venir, et mourir ♫

"I received news from your soldiers that you acquired my assistance?" An angelic voice came from an elegant woman with long rosy pink hair, she resembled that of a mermaid.

"Divine Priestess. You sure took your sweet time getting here," Scaramouche said bitterly.

"Well, this unexpected snowstorm did prove to be a difficult travel for your soldiers, not to mention that one couldn't breathe through their mouth."

"Oh, so he made it? Impressive. I'll be straightforward with you, Kokomi, I'm not here for idle chit chat."

Kokomi grinded her teeth at Scaramouche, who had very little to no care for his people. "Of course, I don't want to waste your time here any longer, my Lord."

"I'll pretend you aren't mocking me just this once for their sake," Scaramouche unwrapped a blanket to reveal the raven he had been carrying in his arms. Kokomi gasped at the sight.

"A raven? But I thought all of them were terribly massacred."

"I had thought so too. However, it seems as though one managed to survive. But not without being harmed. I managed to stop the poison from getting anywhere near their heart, but only someone with your expertise can fully rid them of this poison."

"Yes, of course, I'll gladly do so. Seems to be yet another effect of black magic. " Kokomi carefully picked the raven off Scaramouche's hold and placed them on a flat surface, "You poor thing, do not fret. The pain will only be temporary."

Scaramouche gave Kokomi space, distancing himself. He had saved the raven purely out of impulse.

The truth was,

He saw a little bit of himself when he witnessed the Raven's begging.

The times he had begged his mother to not toss him aside.

"Please don't leave me! I swear I'll be better, I'll become better!"

But when he begged, no one saved him.

So he saved you, his raven.

It didn't take too long for you to wake up. The immediate soreness rushed through your body. You held your head as you felt a headache coming in.

Though your eyes were blurry, you could make your surroundings you were in an infirmary of some sorts. But most importantly, you weren't home.

Your memories started to flood back in. They were dead, you could feel it. You were alone.

"So you're finally awake."

Your eyes shifted to the doorway where the man who saved you stood.

"Who are you?" On guard, you still had no clue of this man's intention regardless of his helping hand.

"I was expecting a 'Thank you', but I did hear you Raven's were quite the bold ones when it comes to strangers not of their Lord's."

"You didn't answer my question." You carefully demanded.

"Well, to put it simply, I'm your Lord." He crossed his arms.

Your Lord? But that would mean. Now that you looked at him, he awfully resembled the Raiden Shogun. Oh.

"You're her son."

He shoulders tensed at your realization. He sighed, rolling his eyes from you to the bandages on your stomach.

"That I am. Seems your injury has been healing quite well. " he placed a hand at his chest, playing with the fabric. You eyed his strange actions.

"If you have taken place, does that mean the Shogun has stepped down?"

"She died."

Your heart sank. "She - she died? Is that why she didn't come to save us?" You talked more to yourself than to the man in the room.

"The events happened just a mere day before your family's incident. It's such a shame. You all were supposed to be my army."

Your headache was starting to hurt. What now? What now? What now? What now? What now?

"Calm yourself, you swore to me, remember? I don't need a brainless fool by my side."

You were still in shock that all of this had occurred, this- it was too much.

"Ugh, clearly you are still recovering. I will have someone to check on you for the time being. I'll give you some time to think, but when I return, I expect a true Raven to be here"

-☆-

The morning air felt unusually cold, as you waited at a food vendor in Inazuma City for Kujou Sara. Last night thoughts lingered in your mind.

"Hey, you alright?" Kujou Sara woke you up from your thoughts.

Huh? You were confused as to how you exactly made this bench you and Sara sat on in front of a small pond with Koi fish swimming about. Was I that deep in my thoughts?

"Yes, sorry I was just zoning out."

"So, what did he talk to you about? Did he confess his undying love for you?" Sara practically gagged at the idea.

"Nothing really just something about scouting the area near Kannazuka island."

Sara nodded taking a bit out of her egg roll. "Didn't you say you have something to tell me?" You asked.

"Ah yes that. I just wanted to ask a personal question, if you don't mind that is."

"That depends on the question, Sara."

"Do you like Scaramouche?" You almost choked on your food.

"No." You managed to cough out.

"Well you sure answered that quickly, a little too eager to shut it down if i do say so myself."

You gave her a deadpanned look to which she lightly laughed at.

"That couldn't have possibly been your question, stop messing with me, your jokes are not funny."

"Oh but you laughed when I fell down the stairs." Sara sarcastically said.

You covered your chuckle at the thought.

"Wow!!" Sara exaggerated.

"Now see, that was funny." You both smiled at the memory.

You both relaxed in the silence eating your food. You've grown close to Sara during your few months living and working in Tenshukaku, often checking on each other regardless of different positions.

Though you denied it you did trust her and valued her opinions even though they annoyed you or you disagreed with them. However, at this very moment.

She was lying.

So this is how it is. So this is how it is.

You both were lying.

Sara broke the silence in disappointment, "Do you even know who you are?"

"Do not patronize me." You immediately retorted.

"Can't you believe it's been almost 4 months, and you still haven't told me your actual name?"

"What are you getting at, Sara."

"You've thrown your life away and gave it to someone who is just keeping it stored away."

"Such poetic words, it almost touched my heart truly."

"I get it, you've lost so many-" that was it.

"Don't kid yourself, Sara, you don't get it. You never will, but I've never antagonized you for it. So what? Let me throw my life away. You are not responsible for my actions. Don't waste your time on me when I make my decision. I chose this."

"You do love him… don't you?" Sara's eyes stayed on yours. And all you saw was pity and regret.

"This conversation is over."

The koi fish scattered away as you stood up, taking your leave back into the city. Sara did not call out for your name, not that you expected her to.

You were in a rush back to Tenshukaku purely out of frustration, you didn't usually get upset that easily at least not with Sara.

You were on edge.

What did she really want to say? It felt like she was testing my current mindset. And clearly, I have failed. The trust is no longer there. She won't confide in me anymore. Could she be-

You were abruptly pushed back when your shoulder collided with another.

"Oh, so sorry, dear." A lady grabbed your arm apologetically. You turned to look at the said the Lady. No way.

Lady Guji of Narukami Grand Narukami Shrine.

Also known as Yae Miko.

"It's not a problem. What a rare occurrence to see you far into the city Lady Guji. What brings you here?"

"Ah, just a change of scenery. Working two jobs as Chief editor and Head shrine Maiden, a woman like me surely needs a break, don't you think?"

"Yes indeed" Lady Guji's way of speech was always hard for you to read, it's as though she is an open book with no words written on it.

"You look so gloomy dear, it's been quite a while hasn't it. That last time we've truly interacted was when I visited your family." She clasped her hand on yours as a means to say her condolences.

"I must be on my Lady Guji" you broke off from her hold, bowing and continuing your walk.

She called your name.

"Whenever you seek answers you know where to find me."

You gazed behind your shoulder as you watched Lady Guji walk off.

She is heading in the direction of Kujou Sara.

-☆-

In a discreet room in Komore Teahouse, four guests hold a heavy discussion.

"Raven's are very loyal Sara, they were soldiers and messengers for the Shogun herself. And now only one remains. They aren't just loyal because Scaramouche saved them but because it's their job" Shikanoin Heizou explains.

Sara groaned in frustration as Yae Miko hummed.

"Oh detective, it's much more than that, surely you have realized that?"

"Miko enough of your literature input." Sara barked.

"Sara you can't deny they clearly have something between them that the public eye can't see, maybe even they themselves can't see-" Yae Miko took a sip out of her tea.

"-Regardless, your relationship has cracked after your inputting"

"Which is why I told you not to engage so brashly," Heizou added.

"Yes, I get it, I fucked up. However, I do not regret it one bit. They are obviously very detached from themselves. I simply want to help."

"Relax, Sara, one might think you're the one in love-" Miko teased, though it only upset the ex-general.

"Enough of these games Miko. I had enough about them. The whole purpose isn't about Raven, it's about Scaramouche and bringing him down."

"Alright alright, slow your horses Sara. Raven may not be the whole purpose but they surely do play a part" Heizou defused the rise in emotions.

"With what exactly?" Sara calmed herself.

"Well, Divine Priestess? You've been unusually quiet when you're the one who hosted this meeting?" Miko gestured to the unspoken guest.

"Apologies everyone, I'm just soaking in the many possible outcomes of this rebellion" Kokomi placed the tea she was holding for a while down.

"Of course, because this could always backfire on us at any time. Which might very well cost us our lives" Heizou reminded. Everyone nodded in acknowledgement.

Kokomi cleared her throat.

"There is one factor we might be able to exploit from our Raven's existence-

their heart."

-☆-

You trashed everything in your room. Glass shattered on the floor. Curtains dragged to the floor.

You were sweating, as your chest was burning up. Your brain screamed at you as you gripped the edge of your vanity table. You couldn't even bring yourself to look at your reflection out of fear on your appearance.

It felt like darkness was cloaking you, suffocating you. Constant whispers of wanting to kill and commit multiple bloodsheds flew into your ears as you told it to "shut up" which to no surprise did not work.

Frequently, Kujou Sara's name was brought up. You always talked big on doing what you must. But the morbid description of putting an end to her clawed at you. She was your friend, after all.

I always seem to contradict myself. You laughed at yourself.

You wanted to rip your skin, you couldn't take it.

You heard your name being called from behind you.

"You're aware when I said this room is for you to do as you please, I didn't mean to turn it into a dumpster." You lifted your eyes to see Scaramouche through the mirror, blurring out your image. You hadn't realized he welcomed himself inside.

"Lord-"

"Don't you ever get tired of calling me that? It's just me and you. You know my name use it."

"I didn't mean to Kuni" he softly sighed as he walked up closer to you resting his hand on the top of your chair.

"I don't know about that, you seemed to make sure to destroy every fragile item here. Mind telling what's the issue?"

"It's nothing."

"Don't lie to me"

"…"

"It's quite embarrassing for me to have to fetch my own soldier when they should've arrived at the said time." He complained but he didn't really seem to care that much about the matter.

"It won't happen again"

"I would hope not. Now-" he grabbed your hair pulling it off your face.

"-Who is the problem?"

"All of them," you answered.

He hummed. "I should have expected as much. Well, there is nothing we can do at the movement. What do you say we just act it out till the moment to strike arises."

"Yes sir"

Sir? You never really called him as such. And it was off-putting for Scaramouche. He chose to ignore it.

"... I never liked that Kujou girl anyways."

He pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket wiping the sweat off your face with it.

"Now we have work to do, dear. Don't worry about the mess, I'll have someone take care of it."

You slowly stood up from your chair with the help of Scaramouche pulling your chair out for you.

"Calmer?" He asked.

You nodded. You peeked through the now wide opened windows thanks to you. "The snow is finally drying up."

"The cold still lingers so make sure to wear your coat, I'll meet you outside."

"No, wait." You called out.

Scaramouche stopped at the door, awaiting your response. "My coat is on the bed, I just need to put it on. So might as well go down together" you swiftly made your way to your bed to put on your coat.

"Well then, hurry up, would you?"

Scaramouche held the door for you, as you walked out together.

And the voices were gone just like that.

[small-sinclair]

Belong

A Lester POV dabble based off this song.

Tw: unalive attempt by drowning, CPR, Worried Bo and Vincent, this is very dark, sad thoughts from Lester, violent Bo, emotional abuse mentioned, physical abuse mentioned, abuse from parents mentioned, misnaming Bo, strong language used, not proofread

If you are feeling as if you can't be here anymore, just know you are welcomed to talk to me. If you you need help, reach out. You are loved and needed in this world, starshine. You are not alone. I am so proud of you <3

The Louisiana marsh was high as the everglades became muddier by the hour. It's rain season in the south, and the Sinclairs weren't strangers to it. They know the woods around the town. They know the best place for crawdads and fishing. They know where the gators mate have their nests. They can tell you where the best little beaches for picnics and little cries if you need to be alone. It's sometimes dangerous to be there by yourself if you don't know where you're going, but it's even more dangerous when it's flooded and the currents could take you before you can scream.

Maybe that's why Lester is out here on top of the broken railroad bridge, looking down at the murky waters. He held the faded photo of his family between his fingers that a girl took when days before his mother died Vincent's hands. It's been two years now and he feels as if he was stuck as the forgotten child. He only asks for one day, one day for his brothers to remember, and they couldn't even do that! Bo's been wrapped up with their mother's "future" and Vincent's been working hard. Killing is bad, it's the worst sin there is; that's what the pastor told them one morning in church. But he never said anything about dying by your own hands.

Lester's suit wasn't too snug, but if you're going to meet God, you gotta look nice, right? That's what his father said before he blew his head off in front of Lester. He took the time to shower and dress right as if he was going on a date. He combed his hair and cleaned his face. Even though the two cinder blocks tied around his ankle clashed with the outfit, Lester still looked good. He felt good, too.

Bo would've made fun of him looking like this. Though he isn't the cleanest out of the three, he does know how to look good in a suit. Of course, it didn't fit the status quo of them: Bo the pretty one, Vincent the artist, and Lester the grimy and creep.

He wasn't a creep; he just looked like one because he was always dirty from the roadkill! It wasn't a pretty job, but it paid well and he got holidays off along with his birthday!

...but his brothers couldn't even remember that. Instead of cake, he got Bo yelling at him in the morning, wishing him dead and gone. He looked at Vincent, who silently watched in the background and didn't cut between him and Lester. Bo yelling at him was one thing, but for him to wish death on him was another.

"Wish ya weren't born!" He spat, his words filled with venom. He can't even remember why he was yelling at his little brother, but he didn't want to lose this battle. "Should've died at birth!"

"Don't say 'at, Bo! Please!" Lester's throat felt dry as he looked at his brother in the morning light. The sun in his hair made it look like he was on fire. "Ya don' mean it!" His hands wrap around his arms tightly.

Bo pushes his brother away, picking up an ash tray that Lester made out of glass years ago fro their mother. "Don't put words in my mouth, Les." He scoffed. "Ya torn 'is family apart! I's your fault! All of it!" The memories he held in the glass played in his mind like a movie. "Fuckin' bitch!"

Lester looked at Vincent for help, but even Vincent didn't know how to help. How could he? This was his twin, his other half. "Bo... don't say that." He didn't mean to start crying. "I-I'm sorry."

"Ya know betta than 'at!" Bo shouted, making him flinch. "Fuckin' cryin. What? Ya a baby, now? No, yer a fuckin man--!"

Lester didn't mean for the words to fall out, but, "Stop, Pa! Stop, please!" He covered his ears, tears burning his eyes. "'M sorry, Pa! 'M sorry! I promise I'll stop! Pa, 'm sorry!" Within a beat, silence filled the house as horror took over Lester's eyes. Why did he call him that? Why did he think Bo was his Pa? "Wait. Wait, no, 'm sorry, Bo! 'M sorry! I didn't mean it!"

"Git out of my house."

"'M sorry--!"

Bo threw an ash tray at his face, but it broke on his shoulder, glass cutting into his shirt. "Gi'out!" That's when Vincent stepped in, pushing Lester out the door so he didn't the full front of it. As he ran out of the house, he heard his brother yell, "Kill yourself before I kill ya, fuckin' freak!"

... that's all he needed to hear.

Bo must've found his note he left on the counter in the shop by the new oil cans he brought in the afternoon. Bo must be wishing he took back his words, unsaid everything as his eye read over and over Lester's neat hand writing. He might be getting Vincent from the basement in a frantic to go get his brother off the railroad bridge. He's probably gunning the truck towards the marsh, cursing himself out as he comes closer to the freshly broken path, finding Lester's truck with his gun still in the passenger seat.

Or he doesn't care. He saw the note and laughed at it, shaking his head at the call for help. Might call him "attention seeking" as he goes back to working without a care. He might be looking for his wretch for the car, thinking Lester is home with the dog. Vincent will be underground with his wax creation, not caring about him.

Yeah... he likes this one better. If he goes without his brothers ever knowing and he would find out on the news, he thought that was better. It'll save the trouble and stress.

You were always in the way, his mother hissed at him once when he came home in the middle of Bo arguing with their father. She pushed her youngest son away when Vincent stopped playing the piano, and she started yelling at him for playing the wrong note. He was shoved aside and sent to his room without food as if he was an animal.

He might as well be an animal to his family. He made it through high school and life with out his family, so why is he struggling now? Why did it bring him here?

Because you're nothin', Lester Sawyer Sinclair, his father answered for him.

He looked down at the photo again and let out a shaky breath. Though they were force to be in suits for Easter Sunday, a friend shot a picture of them smiling at a terrible joke Bo said that made all three laugh. The muddy waters below faded as he thought of the memory. Rebecca took that photo with her new camera that she got from the Easter Bunny, the bright blue and green Polaroid taking picture of everyone that morning. When she got them in this photo, it only showed the happiness and calm thoughts of the brothers. That's when he thought he was truly happy. Trudy was nowhere to be seen when it was taken, but she came back in a flash when she saw her kids standing next to Rebeca looking at the photo, giggling about how they should get a group picture together in their nice clothing.

"If 'm still single when 'm olda, promise I'll marry ya,' Lester whispered in her ear. "Promise."

"I wonder how ya doin', Rebecca," he whisper to himself as he gripped the photo. "Wonder if ya're alive and well." He smiled at the thought of her smiling somewhere up north with her collection of photos and drawings. She always wanted to be an artist like her grandmother--

"Lester!"

"Wonder if ya miss me," he continued, ignoring Bo's call. He could hear his boots snapping through branches and muck. "Wonder if they'll miss me--"

"Les! Git down from 'ere!" Bo didn't like how fast the water was rushing. He didn't like how Lester was looking at the water below, seeing ropes tied to blocks, how dangerously close he was on the edge. "Come home--"

"Ain't my home, remember?" Lester said bitterly, looking up at the full moon. He closed his eyes and took in the light. "Ya tol' me 'at 'is mornin'!"

"Didn't mean it!" He took off his jacket and threw his hat behind him in front of Vincent. He motioned him to stay back. "I swear I was lying! 'M sorry!"

"Does 'at heal my arm, Beauregard?" Lester snapped, his foot resting on one of the blocks, ready to kick and go under. "Does 'at take back everythin' ya said?" His laughter cut through the trees as he shook his head, making Vincent's shoulders tighten and flinch. "There's too many colors, Bo! It hurts ta look an' think! An' ya said 'at 'm betta off dead." His throat tighten like the time his father had his hands wrapped around his throat after walking in on him cheating with his first grade teacher. "I don' belong," he chocked out, tears falling faster than the river below. "Didn't ya say 'at?"

Bo looked down as he stepped on the bridge, walking carefully over the wood and metal. " 'M sorry, Les! I didn't--"

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" Lester hung his head towards Bo, pushing the blocks closer to the edge. In the moonlight, his brothers saw the pain swimming inside him, and he was drowning so fast under it all. "I'll do wha' Mama couldn't when I was a kid." A broken smile escaped as he sobbed, "I'll as-ask God to le' y'all in."

Bo started running towards his brother, his hand reaching out. "Lester, no--!"

Welcome him with open arms, sweet water below.

Without hesitation, he kicked the bricks forward and he fell with it. Time slowed as he looked up, arms reaching up towards the moon and stars. He wondered if he could be able to paint the sky when he's an angel, if he could put up the moon, and let out the rain. There has to be room for him up there somewhere. His mother said it wasn't his fault that she couldn't love him. She could only love one child and Vincent was the one she loved. If he was a bit better, a bit more like Vincent as an artist, maybe his mother would've loved him? No, that's not right--

Then his mind shifted to Rebecca in her lemon printed dress over white fabric. Her red hair braided and tied into a bun. He promised to love her with ever fiber, and she did the same. They split a locket in half, her with a picture of him and he with a picture of her. He kissed her goodbye when she got on the train in the city and headed north to Indiana to live with her aunt after her parents died. She was the only woman he loved, and he wanted to see her again...

Is she looking at the same moon, thoughts of him passing over tear stained face? Does she still wear the locket like he is tonight?

Why do I think of ya now, dandelion? Why now in my death hour? He thought bitterly as his back hits the cold water below. He doesn't know what to do as he sunk under the water, going down with the coldness. He can feel the moonlight grace his face as his hands reaches up. He closes his eyes and lets go of his breath. He felt himself fading into the currents and mud, passing fish and sticks. He's swam in these waters when he was a kid, so he knows the bottom, he knows the cold mud, he knows the true embrace of Louisiana and her arms over the ruby fields.

I'm sorry, Bo... Vincent... I'm not strong like ya.

When darkness welcomed him with a tight embrace, felt like home, like he belonged somewhere.

.

..

...

Strong arms pulled under Lester's shoulders and lift him up from the sand and mud, dragging him to shore. Bo ripped his shirt open and started CPR on his chest. The Louisiana heat touched his skin, the swampy air making his hair stand, as Vincent met him on the shore. He went to Lester's legs and started cutting the rope, pushing back the blocks. He didn't want anything near him that reminded of their failure. The twins are at fault, and he'll blame himself until he dies. He could hear Bo counting then--

Lester coughed roughly, Bo lifting him and turning him to his side, throwing up muddy waters and death. He's breathing roughly as he tired to see if he's dead or not, but when he saw Bo's face in the starlight, his worried face and breathless expression, bright blue eyes wet from water and tears, Lester was pissed.

He pushes his brother away, coughing, "Why'd ya do 'at?" He turned his head and threw up in the sand, coughing mud up until it mixed with his birthday cake he made for himself. It was just a small cake, too.

Lester cringed away from Vincent's hand rubbing his back. "Breathe," Vincent whispers. "Breathe, Les."

"Fuck you," Lester gasped, wiping his mouth. "Fuck ya both--!" He leaned forward and threw up more, food hitting the mud under him. "Now y'all care?" He wanted to shout at them, but he can't find the air to do so. He was shaking from shock, form anger, from death. "I had-had to do 'is t'make ya notice?"

It's like a stick snapped in his brain as he felt Bo wrapping around him, Bo holding him close. Lester tried to push away, hitting his chest to get away from Bo's grasp, but Vincent cornered him, holding both his brothers in tightly. He was tired, so tired...

Lester's hands fall as he stopped fighting. He was sandwiched between the two people he loved most, and he started falling apart. He felt the swamp looking at him with glowing eyes and gentle kisses from the fireflies brought him back to his family. He buried his head in Bo's chest as regret and self-hatred fill his lungs. What did he do? Why did he do it? Brothers fight, but...

"Never leav' me," Bo whispers in his hair, his wet clothes sticking to his skin. "Les, never do 'at again."

"Ya wanted-wanted me gone," Lester chocked out, shaking like a leaf in Bo's arms. "Ya said 'i yourself!"

"Stupid," Bo murmurs. "Was fuckin' stupid ta say 'at." He takes a staggered breath. " 'M the worse. Don' forgive me." His grip around his little brother tightens. "Never forgive me."

You're just like me, boy. Just like your old man.

Lester felt Vincent snake his hand into his. "Love you," Vincent said in his curls. "Lov' ya so fuckin' much." Vincent started rocking back and forth slowly, pulling Lester and Bo in tighter. "Don't know wha' I am without ya."

Lester squeezed his hand. "Y'all hurt yer throat if-if ya keep talkin."

"Shut up," Vincent breathed out, his voice raspy and gravely. "Shut up. Ain't 'bout me now. Just you... always you, Lester."

The moonlight glowed brighter around the three, and Lester closed his eyes, allowing himself to cry in his brothers' arms. He felt his heart breaking faster and harder as he sobbed harder and louder against Bo's wet clothing. His ankle where the stone was tied felt sore and hurts to move. In his pocket, he felt the photo of his brothers, and he felt the memory of their laughter fill his head, Rebecca's giving them the photo when it was ready. The blanket of moonlight covered him in comfort and love. He knew it'll be a long road for him to recover everything mentally, and his brothers will be there this time. No pushing, not throwing, nothing but love for the next couple of months.

He'll grow wings and he'll fly his brothers out of here. He promised to the moon and the muddy river. He promised the stars and his brothers in his arms. He'll get them out of here, somehow, someway.

Get a load of this train wreck.

[veliseraptor]

Can I request both your Lymond fics for WIP meme?

you sure can!!! i mean, you know the one, et ipsi sunt jacula is the not h/c h/c aka the one where an exhausted and overtaxed lymond collapses during the disorderly knights and gabriel is like. let me :) help you :) and. you know. is obviously very helpful and solicitous and just interested in helping lymond feel better! psych.

it's slow-going as all of my lymond fic is, because i get distracted by things that are easier to write and then go back and read what i have and go "oh but this is fun though and also i do enjoy the research bits and the footnotes" so I'll write another 100 words in it and then get distracted again. this ask is nudging me to get back to it and continue that cycle. part of my problem (you may be noticing a theme) is I don't actually know how I'm going to finish the damn thing. maybe I can cheat and just leave it open.

for the curious, "et ipsi sunt jacula" is a line from the vulgate bible, psalm 54:22 (55:22 in a modern bible): "molliti sunt sermones ejus super oleum; et ipsi sunt jacula." according to the RJPS translation, the line can be translated (from the Hebrew) as "his talk was smoother than butter, yet his mind was on war"; the vulgate latin translates more directly as "their speech was softer than oil, but they themselves are (like) arrows."

“Ah,” Lymond said. “Behold, Ganelon.” “Francis,” Gabriel said, in a tone of gentle reproach. “Where do you think you are going?”  “To Roncevaux, surely,” Lymond said, “that I will mort en conquérant. If you come to fence, I think I will make poor sport.” “I do not come to fence.” Gabriel closed the distance between them in slow strides; Lymond did not flinch back, but looked up at him, an obstinate cast to the line of his jaw for all his pallor and visible weakness.  “But you will make sport nonetheless.” “Sport?” Gabriel shook his head slowly. “No. Why do you assume I am your enemy, Francis?”  “Ta suka suka, ten skaphen de skaphen onomason,” said Lymond, unmoved. No flicker of displeasure disturbed the handsome face of the man watching him as he reached out, laying hands on his shoulders. 

the second one, haec olim meminisse iuvabit, is (meant to be) a post-series richard and lymond fic, specifically one where richard finds out what happened with khaireddin and the chess game, because I am an absolute sucker for brotherly angst and i think it would make sense of some more of lymond's behavior afterwards. this one came out because i realized that richard didn't know and went "ah, but he should!" and then realized that would make for fun post-series drama as the two of them are figuring out how to have a relationship after all the upheaval throughout the series.

also considering if I want to have marthe still alive just because i can and possibly the answer is yes, because, again, i can.

the title on this one comes from the aeneid: "forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit" or, as I translated it in my epigraph, "perhaps someday it will please us to remember even this."

I get to be so pretentious with my lymond titles and I will not stop.

“I assume that Graham Reid Malett is dead.” Richard kept the words short and blunt, but saw no reaction.  “Le roi est mort. I killed him in a chess game.” The words were spoken with exact equanimity; Richard cast his gaze sidelong and narrowed, and stayed silent, waiting. The fine-featured face was a mask, inscrutable and unbreakable.  “To see the way you look at the boy,” Richard said, “one could not believe that you crossed much of the known world for him.” Lymond was quiet. He propelled himself to his feet, turned, and walked a few steps away, long-fingered hands folding behind his back. “Kuzum is not my son. He is Joleta’s. By her brother.”  Richard took a sharp breath. “You are certain?” “Yes.” Lymond’s voice was level, empty of feeling. Richard waited, but he said no more. “Does Philippa know?”  “Perhaps. Perhaps not. I haven’t told her. She loves him, and he her.”  Richard stood slowly and approached Lymond. “And what of your son?” he asked quietly, almost against his own will. Lymond was silent for a long while, but Richard did not press him, sensing that to do so would be a grave mistake.“Not oats, but wheat of blood...he died,” Lymond said. “In a chess game.”

[expired-applejuice]

Part 6 of incorrect les mis

Some or these may have been done.

Grantaire: I will not let a technicality stop me.

Joly: Techni- you mean the law?

Grantaire: Yes I hate that word.

-

Bahorel: I asked Feuilly out.

Montparnasse: Oh, I'm sorry.

Bahorel: Why?

Montparnasse: Well, I assume he said no.

Bahorel: No, he said yes.

Montparnasse: Really? Then I'm sorry for him.

-

Courfeyrac: Gay as fuck to be a angry politician. What are you mad about? Men? Are you just crazy about men?

Grantaire: I hear that politics is a man dominated field. Is that what you want? To be dominated by other men?

Enjolras: *confused* I beg your pardon????

Grantaire: *holding out a Bouquet of flowers* what's not clicking?

-

Jehan: Well, this is the last box of your clothes. I'm just gonna label it, 'What were you thinking?'

Feuilly: Funny, 'cause I was just going to go across the hall and write that on Montparnasse.

-

Courfeyrac to Combeferre: I don't know how many times I have to say this. Do not like a picture of my ass on Instagram if you don't want me in your DMs telling you to spank it, all right? Just don't do it.

-

Fantine: Javert, you and Valjean did not do it. And while I applaud your misguided efforts to make me jealous, I have work to do. So... leave.

Javert: I don't care about making you jealous. I just care about pleasing your fella.

Fantine: Valjean is not "my fella".

Javert: *smirks* And how!

-

Eponine: I've kinda of had this uh, this crush on you. But since you were with Marius, I-I didn't do anything about it. But, now that you're not, I'd really like to ask you out sometime. So-so that's-that's what I'm doing, now.

*Marius gets this hurt expression on his face and goes into the back room*

Cosette: Wow! Umm....

*A loud crash and the sound of breaking dishes. Followed quickly by another crash, Marius emerges with everyone looking at him*

Marius: I dropped a cup.

-

*Grantaire stops Combeferre*

Grantaire: Oh, Combeferre, I saw what happened. Is your boyfriend okay?

Combeferre: *stops short, looks at him* My boyfriend?!

Grantaire: Yeah, th-th-the loud little friendly one you're always hanging around with...oh, uh, Courfeyrac.

Combeferre: He's not my boyfriend.

Grantaire: Are you sure...?

Combeferre: Yes, I'm sure. I don't like him. He's shallow and loud, talkative. He's everything that I hate.

Grantaire: But Combeferre, you hate everything.

Combeferre: What's that supposed to mean?

Grantaire: Well, it means that... that maybe you like him cause... *sings* I kinda think you dooo.

Combeferre: No! How could I like him. Because I don't like him! Because I can't like him! Grantaire, if I like him.... shoot me.

Grantaire: *turns to him and makes a finger gun* POW!!

-

Grantaire to Enjolras: You'll figure out what to do Apollo, you have great instincts. You have a great butt too, but that's a whole other thing.

-

Bossuet, drunkingly confronting Musichetta: Hey you! Musichetta is it? Yeah. I don't know where you're from. But I'll have you know, I am the catch of Paris.

Joly: That's true. That's how he signed my yearbook.

-

Marius: Okay, remember, workout time tomorrow is 6:30. So get some rest. Or do what I do: lie awake and listen to your roommate do stuff with your other roommate on the other side of the wall.

*Everyone stares at Eponine and Cosette*

-

Joly, putting a hand on Bossuet's forehead: God, you're hot...

Bossuet: So are you.

Joly: With a fever.

-

Courfeyrac: We don't have to do nothing *looks around* nothing big was taken, probably some kids having fun.

Enjolras: Fun?

Courfeyrac: Yeah, you know, fun... that thing you've never had.

Enjolras: I have plenty of fun, okay *walks over to Grantaire and smiles* I'm fun, right?

Grantaire, looking Enjolras up and down: You're good lookin!

-

Eponine: Anyway, I was wondering if, you were the sort of person who... eats lunch.

Cosette: Are you asking me out? 'Cause it would be kinda weird since I just broke up with Marius.

Eponine: Yeah uh... okay. I'm-I'm sorry. Bye.

Cosette: No! Wait! I was just saying that so you'd think I was a good person. Fight for me.

Eponine: Uhh, I won't take no for an answer.

Cosette: Not great, but we can work on it at lunch.

-

*The other cops walking in on Javert packing up night vision goggles*

Javert: Oh man, I gotta go to the bench in town. I'm late to stalk Valjean.

-

Courfeyrac: So what, we just sit?

Combeferre: Ohh, no, no. We're not going to just sit. *calls Marius* Shhh.

Marius, answering the phone: Hello, Marius Pontmercy.

Combeferre, in a high pitched female voice; Hello Mr. Pontmercy... I love you.

Marius, angrily: Alright, whoever this is, stop calling me! *Les Amis silently laughing* It's been six months! It's not funny!

Combeferre: But, I love you.

Marius: Leave me alone! For the love of God, leave me alone!!!

*Combeferre hangs up*

Combeferre: And that's Wednesday.

-

Feuilly: We just have to really, really, really, not let stuff like money get--is that a hickey?

Jehan: No, I just, I fell down.

Feuilly: On someone's lips? Where'd you get the hickey?

*Bahorel high fives Montparnasse*

-

*Marius tries to enter the Cafe back room that has a voice command*

Marius: Marius.

Computer: Access denied.

Marius: Pontmercy.

Computer: Access denied.

Marius: Nostrils.

Computer: Access Denied.

Marius: *grumbles* Napoleon's Bitch.

Computer: Welcome, mari-quiff.

-

Marius: I know I didn't do anything wrong, but where am I gonna find another friend like Courfeyrac?

Eponine: Look, there are plenty of other fish in the sea, okay? It's like when you and Cosette broke up. It was for the best. And after a while, she found someone better. Me. And since then, I've enjoyed throwing that in your face as often as possible. What was your question again?

-

*Valjean and Javert hug*

Fantine: Could you cut it out? I gotta go home to an empty apartment.

-

*Marius wants to talk to a hidden Cosette*

Marius: Eponine, do you know where she is?

Eponine: 712 Forest Lane, blue house with a little flamingo on the lawn.

Marius: Wow. Stalk much?

Eponine: Yes.

[greekbros]

"greek-Bros": Sussy Imposter

*after the bois visit to the Celtic/Gaelic Island that will become England*

Apollo: Oh it was magnificent! The lush country side-

Dionysus: the endless mead at the Celtic god's place, man was that great.

Apollo: oh and the Gaelic pantheon there was very hospitable.

Zeus: I am very pleased to hear you all had such a lovely time, Hermes you seem rather quiet is there anything you would like to share?

Hermes: .....father....

Zeus: ?

Hermes: How's does one become a "King of Gods" again? I mean does it go by human monarchial rules o-

Zeus: My dear boy, do you remember the last time we had this conversation?

Hermes: ...ugm ..no?

Zeus: hmmm well, the last we both had this conversation was that if you told me that if you ever asked the question of 'becoming king of the gods' again, to as you adamantly put it...."tie you to the nearest marble column and interrogate you"

Hermes: .....*makes a surprisingly slow paced run for it, for Hermes 's standards*

Zeus: seise him.

Apollo: what?

Zeus: DO IT

*after the world's most hilarious chase insuses in which I shall not elaborate on*

Hermes: What the hell?! What is the meaning of this?!

Apollo and Dionysus: *now both a little worried about this situation*

Zeus: Alright, talk.....who are you?

Apollo: Father, it's Hermes.

Dionysus: ugh...did Athena give you that "special medicine" again?

Zeus: WHATno. Hermes and I made an accord that if anything suspicious had ever happened to him, to treat the suspected accordingly until proven innocent. I'm not certain as to why he instructed me to go through this protocol but it seems that it's the appropriate time to do so.... because this is NOT Hermes...this .... person...is AN IMPOSTER.

Dionysus: *takes out the tiniest lyre and plays the Among us theme"

Hermes: *sitting quietly*

Apollo: ugh ok...that is the most insane thing you have ever uttered in your life....also isn't it "Innocent until proven guilty"?

Zeus: Nonsense dear boy how on earth would anything be done if that were the case?

Apollo: *the dawning moment of irony*

Dionysus: Come on dad, what's wrong with Hermes now?

Zeus: he never calls me "Father".

Dionysus: ah..but I mean, that's clearly him.

Hermes: Yes, it's me your dear and loyal and clearly beloved son Hermes whom has done everything for you. *Puppy dog eyes*

Zeus: *cold unloving stare*

Apollo: Father stop this madness and untie Hermes.

Hermes: *disheveled, dirty and covered in leaves, comes out of the corner* DON'T UNTIE THAT FUKN FAKE ASS LOON.

*everyone le gasps*

Zeus: Ah!...is really you Hermes?

Other Hermes: *chews through his restraints, leaps at Hermes and the both of them start beating each other up*

Apollo: GREAT HEAVENS!

Dionysus: If I wasn't 50% sober right now this would be a funny ass trip.

Apollo: Dionysus do something! I can't tell which one is which!

Dionysus: ugh....*getting confused* oh shit it's just like that coconut shell game.

Zeus: ENOUGH! *grabs the both of them and ties them up* Alright! Which one of you is my son, and which is the Imposter!?

*both Hermes start yelling and pointing at each other calling one and another imposter*

Dionysus: wait there's only one person who can help now....*points to a corner*

Ares: *tries to sneak away with a bag of chips* ..........what ever this bs is.....I didn't do it.

Zeus: Ah yes.... wait how is Ares going to help us?

Hermes: ARES! Please! It's me man come on!

Hermes: Ares I'm the real Hermes! Can't you tell? I'm the real Hermes.

Zeus: Ares! This is a matter of life and death, I'm going to have to strike one of them down and let the other live....which one i-

Ares: *points to the Hermes on the right* seriously guys, it's that one right there.

Zeus:....wut.

Apollo: Ares are you sure you don't want a little more time t-

Area: no seriously the other guy has fake ears

Zeus, Dionysus and Apollo: ⁉️

Ares: *walks up to the other Hermes and takes off his fake ears revealing elf ears* see fake ears.

Other Hermes: ....*let's out a scream since his ears were practically scrunched inside a small set of humanish ears*

Apollo: wut the?

Dionysus: *squints a little*....hey wait a minute I know him, that's Oberon.

Apollo, Ares and Hermes: WHO?

Zeus: Ah yes, Oberon, also known as the EXILED TITAN PRINCE OF THE FAIRIES.

Dionysus: yeah now I remember, we had a rager a couple of years ago and he turned all my guests into random items....banned him for life for killing the mood.

Oberon: *world's most thickest Scottish accent* AND I WOULD HAVE GOTTEN AWAY WITH IT TOO IF IT WEREN'T FOR YOUR LOG HEADED DOLF.

Ares: hey I resent that. *Eats his chips*

Apollo: but wait how did Ares know he wasn't Hermes? In fa t I should have known better?!

Hermes: We're bros Apollo, just like how we are. *Fist bumps Ares*

Apollo and Dionysus: *a little jealous about the fact Ares can actually do that*

Zeus: ah yes, Oberon... wait until your mother Titania hears about this.

Oberon: HA! Like that tart would care about my mischief.

Hermes: ugh dad I just have a question, why does he LOOK like me.....am...I a fairy?

Zeus: *let's out the hardest and loudest laugh a god like Zeus can make* No my dear Hermes....your half nymph and half god....your far more than some woodland deity.

Oberon: And YOU! *Referring to Dionysus*

Dionysus: *sheepishly points to himself*

Oberon: If I catch your kin in my island again i-

Titania: *makes a dramatic entrance* And WHAT are you going to do my child?

Zeus: Ah hello my dear.

Titania: Zeus.

Oberon: *feels fear*

Titania: *struts to Oberon, pinches his ear and lifts him up* It is time for a VERY long time-out. My apologies my lord, I do not raise my children with such insolence.

Zeus: Oh no matter my Lady, I too have similar issues.

The bois: D:< hey

Zeus: silence.

Titania: So long, and fair well. *leaves as she drags Oberon by the ear like a dirty rag*

Oberon: I'LL HAVE MY REV-~ow!

Zeus: Hahahaha. Well. I am off to see your mother for a visit. *Leaves*

Apollo: ... wait....which one?

Ares, Apollo, Hermes and Dionysus: *now just wondering which 'mother' was Zeus referring to*

Hermes: ...can someone untie me

Ares: hold on not until I find out which mom dad was talking about.

Hermes: ....unting me technically can help.

Dionysus: well now that you said that, it sounds sussy.

Apollo: hmm yes. You must stay there for a little longer.

Hermes: seriously guys

[aladaylessecondblog]

The Birth (Faal Hah Wuld prequel)

Author's Note: tw childbirth, new mother fears, reasonable amount of symbolism.

Sadrith is born during her mother's latest trip through Morrowind with the khajiit caravan.

------------------------

Kogolanu had been feeling ill at ease for weeks now. Cramped, inclined to keep walking after they'd made camp for the night. The weight gain she blamed for that - how that had happened she wasn't sure. They were always on the road, and it wasn't as if she ate too much when they DID stop. The nix-hound jerky and ash-hopper stew surely wouldn't...

The rain started, and knowing they were going to stop anyway, knowing of a cave nearby that would suit for shelter, she told Rass Le. He seemed to agree, and looking skyward, said, "This one would rather not see the dark moons...or for the dark moons to see him."

The eclipse, yes. She'd learned a lot from them over the years they had let her travel with them, including their views on the eclipses. The Urshilaku did not waste time debating on what it meant, only that it made hunting less easy. More dangerous. Hunting in the dark--

A ripple of pain moved over her stomach and radiated into her back as she lead them into the cave, which was lined at the entrance with mushrooms. She schooled her expression, though, and looking around, was careful to place a lightning rune just inside after she had gotten everyone inside.

The pains only worsened over time as she got the stew ready and everyone began to eat. She barely finished half a bowl before needing to sit back.

"Are you unwell?" Rawla spoke now, tilting her head just slightly.

"Cramped," Kogolanu said. She lay back, breathing hard. "I think we didn't cook those mushrooms long enough yesterday. I'm..."

Another wave of pain.

It was Rawla who stayed with her, and after the fourth and fifth instances of pain, the cat finally asked, "When we stopped in Blacklight, did you...partake of the whores?"

"No. No, of course not. I don't--I never did. Why do you ask?"

Rawla didn't respond for a few minutes. Not until the next wave of pain.

"Perhaps you drank too much, and simply don't remember."

Kogolanu was sure she hadn't. She didn't generally drink to excess, and aside from a little partaking in moon sugar didn't hold with mind-altering substances either.

"Please--why do you ask?"

"Lift your skirts."

Kogolanu obeyed, and after only a moment's look Rawla looked back up, "This one is sorry she must be the one to inform you...but you are giving birth."

Her face paled.

"That's not possible," she said, "I've gone through my...my change. I've not bled for months. This--this isn't--"

A fresh wave of pained echoed through her body, as if to refute her claim.

She hadn't bedded a man in years. She'd always been moderate in her consumption of alcohol. And she'd always considered herself infertile - two hundred years of marriage and not one child had ever exited her womb. Her husband had been dead nearly a hundred years now, and she had not yet met any man who either stirred her heart or were appealing enough to join in marriage with. Who, she had wondered, would have her anyway?

Rawla had birthed several of her own children, and so was a great help. Something for her to lean back on, instructions to push. Water for her to drink, sweat, wiped from her brow.

Kogolanu's thoughts soon turned to the child itself. Welcome, yes. She had always wanted a child, a little one to coo over, to cuddle, to tell the traditions and stories of the Urshilaku as she saw other mothers do. Now her chance...

...another pain. She cringed, and felt a sudden dampness.

"Your waters," Rawla said, "Your labor will begin in earnest soon."

"Under the dark moons," Rass Le said, from the smoldering campfire nearby, "If this child were a khajiit, we might now be--"

A stronger pain came now, worse than all the rest. Kogolanu practically screamed, interrupted Rass Le--and DID scream when the next contraction struck.

She felt weak through it all, so very, very weak, but still the time passed and Rawla kept praising her for the progress she was making. The others would bring over things to Rawla as needed, but the things they said went unnoticed. When Kogolanu wasn't pained, she was transfixed by the bob and weave of the shadows that the fire was casting. Those of the khajiit were there, and yet there was one other, too...

...one that almost seemed to turn in her direction, waiting, watchful.

Kogolanu feared for a moment that she was dying, hallucinating perhaps. She feared she would pass and leave her child alone--not that she did not trust these khajiit who had come to be her friends, but she did not want the child to have no mother to shield her from the hate she would surely face from a life among the cats.

A final wave of pain, a push, and then a cry, the beautiful sounds of her child's arrival.

(The campfire dipped low for a moment before roaring back up, and there was the sound of profanity from one of the khajiit. She would later learn that his bowl of moon-sugar had broken suddenly, scattering the precious dust all over the ground.)

"You have a daughter," Rawla said, after cleaning the babe up. She swaddled the little one and handed her over to Kogolanu.

Kogolanu kissed the little nose, counted the little fingers and toes, and smiled at the red eyes once they opened. So beautiful. This little one in her arms was so beautiful, so perfect. What joy it was to nurse the child, to marvel at the white fuzz decorating her tiny head.

A little one had finally been coaxed from her dead womb...

A name, she thought suddenly. I must think of a name.

She looked about for an idea. The fire, the cooking pot, the khajiit. Rawla...the dark moons and their dual eclipse came suddenly to mind, but she thought it might be an ill omen to name the child after the moons in any way. A Jone or Jode might not bode well - the khajiit always said those were the names of stillborns.

She was no longer of the Urshilaku - the response from the khan when she left had made that obvious, and so it would not do to give the child a name like her own. Then her eyes crossed a cluster of violet coprinus...and a strange but perhaps well-fitting name came to mind.

A dead womb, and life springing up from it...

"Sadrith," Kogolanu said, pressing another kiss to the tiny fingers of the babe's hands. "Your name is Sadrith."

She was no longer of the Urshilaku - the response from the khan when she left had made that obvious, and so it would not do to give the child a name like her own. But 'mushroom'...yes, that was fitting, fitting indeed.

But the peace that came as she held Sadrith passed on, and the fear of before returned. Kogolanu was sure she had not lain with a man, and yet from her womb had come new life. She could only pray her memory was faulty, that she was simply not remembering well.

This had happened once before, and to another Dunmer woman. She prayed to Azura that the same fate did not await her unexpected but very much welcome little one.

[empirelead]

SHIPPING INFO

Answer the following for your muses so people know how shipping works on your blog.

WHAT IS YOUR OTP FOR YOUR CHARACTER(S)?

Baavira! I know a lot of people do not like this ship because they believe there is no chemistry between them and they don't share scenes where they act like a couple, but I honestly disagree with them. It seems like they've already been together for a long time so they're no longer in the honeymoon stage, and they don't look like the type of couple that would constantly be all over each other.

I know people don't like this ship for another reason, that reason being the fact Kuvira shot the warehouse without hesitation and they all believe that is proof she never cared for him. Again, I disagree with that. Kuvira was in the middle of trying to achieve her goal, that goal being a promise she made to her people, so of course she wasn't going to emotionally breakdown or go back on her promise for her own selfish desire; if she did, the people would lose faith in her. Remember, she gain a big following because she sees things through. And if people actually paid attention, Kuvira did had to hold everything in before she steeled herself to continue on after she made the difficult decision to sacrifice the man she loves.

She was also originally suppose to cry in the scene, but that idea was thrown away since Bryke believed the impact in the Spirit World scene wouldn't be as emotional. AND the comics did confirm Kuvira still has feelings for him.

Oof, this turned into a rant. Haha. I apologize, I am very defensive over this ship.

HOW LARGE DOES THE AGE GAP HAVE TO BE TO MAKE IT UNCOMFORTABLE?

I do headcanon Kuvira to be twenty-five years old until stated otherwise, so I don't think she would want to date anyone that isn't even old enough to drink or still has the maturity level of a peanut; I say anyone under the age of twenty is a big no. The oldest she'll go for is someone in their fifties. As for immortal characters, they just have to look like an adult.

HOW FAR DO STEAMY MOMENTS HAVE TO GO BEFORE THEY ARE CONSIDERED NSFW?

When it goes beyond kissing, like touching and clothes starts to come off. Any moments like this would be placed under "read more", discord, or fade-to-black. Though, I don't do much smut content these days because I'm not that interested in writing them, but that doesn't mean I hate it. It could still happen as long as the ship is well established.

ARE YOU SELECTIVE WHEN SHIPPING?

Yes, like, Kuvira isn't exactly an easy person to be ship with due to her past trauma of being abandoned by her biological parents and Suyin as well, she's not going to trust anyone that comes to her way easily and will make her distrust known. There is also the fact that she can be difficult in general, she cannot be please so easily. So if you are trying to win her heart, you're gonna have to do more than giving flowers or showing off fancy tricks.

WHO ARE OTHER CHARACTERS YOU SHIP YOUR CHARACTER WITH?

Korra! That Spirit World scene is just so divine.

DOES ONE HAVE TO ASK TO SHIP WITH YOU?

It all depends if you're brave enough to poke the bear, like I said Kuvira isn't easy to be with so I am picky with who I'm going to ship her with. Though, sometime, it just happens and I have that occurrences where it all work out, but it is better to ask than to assume. You may feel the chemistry, but the same cannot be said for the other person. That doesn't mean I am oppose to the idea of shipping our characters together, there's a high-chance I will give it a shot.

Chemistry isn't always instant, we can always try to build it up just by discussing it together.

ARE YOU SHIP-OBSESSED OR SHIP MORE-OR-LESS?

I'm more in the middle. I do like shipping because it's fun to see what kind of dynamic Kuvira will have with other characters, but I'm not going to ship Kuvira with every character that comes to her way.

WHAT IS YOUR FAVOURITE SHIP IN YOUR CURRENT FANDOM?

I'll respond it with my other muse: Kai'sa, from League of Legends! My favorite ship with her is with Akali! Though, I also do like her with Ahri and Evelynn as well.

FINALLY, HOW DOES ONE SHIP WITH YOU?

Just ask or read my rules, it also helps if we interact together a lot and talk behind the scene. And I also do wanna add that I do like oc and crossover shipping as well.

Tagged by: @nameaprice (thanks~) Tagging: anyone! if you're reading this...or skimmed through it, considered yourself tagged~

[baladric]

What first got you into writing? How did you develop your style? And have you got any tips for other budding writers out there? Also who are your favourite authors and poets?

this got LONG but i'm going to tell myself you were ASKING FOR THAT and take a breath a;ldfkjwo;dfjsf

i can't remember if my inuyasha self-insert fic days predated my gaiaonline roleplaying days, but it was one of the two! definitely entirely a form of escape from a very painful and lonely life, but i think it was actually several years after i started definitionally Writing™ before i got into it, you know? i don't remember what kickstarted it, but somewhere along the way, i realized that i could really do whatever i wanted to, and i discovered figurative language and non-linear storytelling really went hogwild on some super niche death note fics ;alkfjwd and from there i started writing prose-poetry and really just. splashing around in there. i've been a musician my whole life, and it was like i'd realized that i could put music into the written word, like i wrote entirely for the way things tripped off my internal ear—like this one line from a poem i wrote when i was 14 still sticks with me, Leaves stain, leaves stains (rough obviously, but it was my first foray into writing about visual imagery that stuck in my sad little head)

my style started as its own nascent messy little thing, and like. man, people on here don't talk about Lolita because. you know. it's literally the apotheosis of the stuff that gets people wound-up in fandom spaces? literally a novel about SA and pedophilia and grooming—but the thing is, there's a reason it's considered a central part of the western literary canon, and that book revolutionized me as a writer. nabokov's entire thing really is just. ear-worms as text, like i cannot even express how often i still think "I am just winking happy thoughts into a little tiddle cup", or how many times i'll echolalia my way through this one line from the intro bit of the book: "Lo-Le-Ta: The tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth." take or leave the content of the book, nabokov does it like none other—or he did until ocean vuong published On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous, which is just. idk if you haven't read it, please please please, do yourself a favor and make space for it. it's the most effecting book i've ever read, as well as the most gorgeous and the most lovingly, grievingly composed.

You once told me that the human eye is god's loneliest creation. How so much of the world passes through the pupil and still it holds nothing. The eye, alone in its socket, doesn't even know there's another one, just like it, an inch away, just as hugry, as empty. Opening the front door to the first snowfall of my life, you whispered, "Look."

if i can ever write a single sentence that pins the wide universe and the complex sorrow and joy of the human experience in place the way ocean vuong does, i will die happy. honestly.

favorite authors/poets is in vein with that last bit, but the short list anyway:

ocean vuong, esp On Earth We're Briefly Gorgeous (novel) and Time is a Mother (poetry)

maggie stiefvater, specifically The Raven Cycle—i could (and have) gone on for hours about the way she puts her readers into a tactile, vivid world, and her singular skill for spinning characters so contradictory and multifaceted that, to my mind, they're whole entire people, instead of the archetypes or loving stereotypes of most other fiction

richard siken, for Crush, which. i mean, i'm a gay man obsessed with words, this one really goes without saying lmao, if you read nothing else from it, read Snow and Dirty Rain. it is my gospel and my lifeblood, i have it memorized and still i reread it every week.

katherine addison taught me so much about storytelling, unreliable narrators, and the complexities of healing/trauma recovery while contending with rigid society (tragically pertinent to our present lives)—her Chronicles of Osreth (comprised of The Goblin Emperor, Witness for the Dead and The Grief of Stones)

maggie nelson, both for Bluets and The Argonauts

becky chambers—Psalm for the Wild-Built altered me as a person, it is gorgeous and soaring and humble and such a necessary book

donna tartt, obviously

anne carson, also obviously

freya marske—will read anything she ever writes, her language is lush, her worldbuilding is unique and spectacular, and her smut is HOT

alexandra rowland, for the same reasons as freya marske, but also their characters are so stunningly sympathetic, as well as really loving examples of neurodivergence in fiction (evemer hoşkadem, my deeply autistic beloved)

robin hobb really writes a toxic, complicated relationship saga like none other, i am stunningly enraged by Realm of the Edlerlings and also am physically incapable of not thinking about it constantly

and then there's the authors who taught me about magic: Garth Nix (The Old Kingdom Series), Holly Black (Modern Faerie Tales), Tamora Pierce (Protector of the Small), and Francesca Lia Block (Weetzie Bat)

writer tips!!!!!! this is hokey, but honestly my main advice is READ and also HAVE FUN. storytelling is the oldest human act, and language is the show where everything's made-up and the points don't matter. language is a sandbox, and it's there for you to literally just fuck around in. it can be whatever you want—it can be your raison d'être as a writer, but also it can be incidental. it can be a means to an end, economical, and some of the best stories are taken with that approach. but also you can paint with language, if you want to. you can compose music with it. you can do whatever suits your fancy.

my second tip is WORD COUNT DOESN'T MATTER. stop counting. stop stop stop holding yourself to the weird, quantity-obsessed writer culture. 2,000 words a day? nobody has time for that except full-time writers or those really rare writers who blink and 5k words fall onto the page. personally, if i'm sitting down to write and i'm really determined to actually get something onto the page, whether or not it's necessarily good, i'll force out 200 words. 200! i can't remember where i got this tip, but the point of that number is that 200 words is attainable even on the most blocked day, and by the time you hit your 200th word, you're gonna be in the middle of a sentence or a thought that you'll have to finish, and you end up with 300. or you hit 200 and you've broken through the fog and warmed up to it, and you leave with 700 or 1,500 (or a couple wild times for me, 5k).

my third tip: if you're a writer, EVERYTHING IS WRITING. this goes for art, music, literally any creative pursuit. walking out your door in the morning is writing, because you're learning things about the world, you're processing stimuli, your wheels are never not spinning. every video game you play, every show you watch, every fic you read is inherently a generative act, because that story is entering your store of knowledge to be processed and synthesized and lend you inspiration for the kinds of stories you want to tell, or the characters you want to make, or even the kinds of things you want to avoid as a creator. i can't tell you how much i've learned from games (Outer Wilds, i'm lookin at you!!) or tv (Station Eleven....) or music (Joanna Newsom really should be on my list of authors) or fanfiction (if you're a goblin emperor beastie and you haven't read celebros's Blackbird series, RUN, don't walk. i learned literally everything about creating character conflict within a framework of love that really motivates characters to work at it and not just get angry and walk away, and i remain uhhHHH fuckin Gobsmacked and reeling that she wants to write with ME a;lkdjfalw;dfs also literally one of my most formative collaborative and creative experiences came from reading kingdom hearts fanfiction in 2010, so) so!!!! just live your life!!! think about what makes you tick, what makes stories tick, think about the stars or birds or the history of glassblowing, whatever lights you up, and that energy will find its way into the things you make.

oh and also NEVER FEEL BAD FOR TAKING BREAKS. and i don't mean a 5-minute break, or a few days. i mean weeks. i mean months or years or what-have-you. sometimes it's just not there, and that's not a failing. your creations aren't content, they're little critters you make with love, and you can't love a thing you're banging your head against day and night. take breaks. allow yourself ebbs and flows in your creativity. everything hibernates, and i promise it'll wake up again and it'll be better than you left it.

end point: i Love You, and if you're writing or hoping to write or planning to write, i love your writing, too, nascent or tangible.

[clochardscelestes]

Demain le soleil se lèvera à nouveau, demain il y aura un autre matin, et sans doute des centaines d'autres qui suivront, des matins froids, gris et sans saveur.

Please remember me, happily By the rosebush laughing With bruises on my chin, the time when We counted every black car passing

Your house beneath the hill and up until Someone caught us in the kitchen With maps, a mountain range, a piggy bank A vision too removed to mention

But please remember me, fondly I heard from someone you're still pretty And then they went on to say that the Pearly Gates Had some eloquent graffiti

Like 'We'll meet again' and 'Fuck the man' And 'Tell my mother not to worry' And angels with their great handshakes But always done in such a hurry

And please remember me, at Halloween Making fools of all the neighbors Our faces painted white, by midnight We'd forgotten one another

And when the morning came I was ashamed Only now it seems so silly That season left the world and then returned And now you're lit up by the city

So please remember me, mistakenly In the window of the tallest tower Call, then pass us by but much too high To see the empty road at happy hour

Gleam and resonate just like the gates Around the Holy Kingdom With words like, 'Lost and found' and 'Don't look down' And 'Someone save temptation'

And please remember me as in the dream We had as rug burned babies Among the fallen trees and fast asleep Beside the lions and the ladies

That called you what you like and even might Give a gift for your behavior A fleeting chance to see a trapeze Swinger high as any savior

But please remember me, my misery And how it lost me all I wanted Those dogs that love the rain and chasing trains The colored birds above there running

In circles round the well and where it spells On the wall behind St. Peter So bright on cinder gray in spray paint 'Who the hell can see forever?'

And please remember me, seldomly In the car behind the carnival My hand between your knees, you turn from me And said the trapeze act was wonderful

But never meant to last, the clowns that passed Saw me just come up with anger When it filled with circus dogs, the parking lot Had an element of danger

So please remember me, finally And all my uphill clawing My dear, but if I make the Pearly Gates I'll do my best to make a drawing

Of God and Lucifer, a boy and girl An angel kissin' on a sinner A monkey and a man, a marching band All around the frightened trapeze swinger

J'espère que tu te rappelleras de moi comme moi je me rappellerais de toi. Please, remember me.

[cherryjuicegf]

ao3

"You're still here, then."

The wind howls, carrying salt and the bitter taste of rocks, as though his despair had slept on every inch of them, claimed its ground. A violent wave wrecks the shore, digging its shape into the wet sand, sucking it in, greedy, doesn't stop, as though to devour the whole earth with it. Another.

A chuckle, lost in the wind. "I never left."

"Of course you didn't." Geralt stares ahead.

It's the only direction he can stare and he tells himself that the sea is beautiful, dark and wild under the grey sky, like an enchanting nightmare that never lets go. That's what he tells himself. Then again, it could be the wind, blowing right against his face. Dries away the tears. Convenient.

Geralt stares ahead.

Oh, he wants to turn around. Clenches his fists. The salt tingles his nose like flowing blood. He can't.

"They're talking about you," he says instead because what else can he say? What is more left to say?

Too much, is the thing. And they don't have any time left, not anymore.

This time he hears a hum and feels it, feels the smile as though it's his own, as though the dampness skinned it from pale lips and sewed it on his face. "They better do. I spent a lifetime making sure of that."

He wants to laugh. It's just a game now. Who is going to give in first. A wave crashes on the shore and splashes water on him. Only him. "Not what I mean."

Jaskier is standing closer to the sea. His shirt is dry.

"They talk about a man," Geralt continues, and gods, he wants to look, he wants to, but he's so tired, so tired of looking, and reaching out, and grasping and still the waves pulling him back, still devouring him in their foam. "A man strolling on the shore every now and then, gazing upon the ships arriving at the harbour nearby."

"Wrong." Jaskier's voice is rough and it must be the salt, it must be. It always is. The poet shakes his head. "Not arriving. Only leaving." Shivers down his spine. The shirt is sticking on his skin like an unwanted hug. Jaskier swallows and he can feel blue eyes on him. "Only those."

Geralt laughs. He's not certain there's anything else to do. And finally, finally as though the wind slaps him on the face, he turns. And faces him. And oh, he's so beautiful. So empty. Standing there, the salt peppered like snowflakes on his hair and Geralt remembers once, when it was snowing, a snowflake floating and resting on Jaskier's lashes, and melting. The salt, he thinks, doesn't melt. And his eyes are still blue, only darker now, as it seems. He didn't remember them so dark. Then again, even the sea would be jealous enough of their blue to steal it.

There's this smile on his face, always there, just like that day. Something to leave behind, perhaps. Geralt shakes his head. "Yet you never leave."

The wind blows his hair in front of his eyes and Jaskier tilts his head. He looks hurt. Complaint carved between his eyebrows like a scolded child. "You want me to?"

"Yes," and Geralt knows his voice is sharp like the blade of his sword and he knows he doesn't want to, knows that if he turns away from Jaskier now, he will never want to see anything else in his life. Any other sight would make him claw his eyes out.

Jaskier knows. And again, smiles. "I love you, Geralt."

Something is flowing down his face. It could be tears or just the sea. The salt burns his lips anyway. "Please," and he begs, voice quivering, and his eyes are blurry now and the more he stares at Jaskier, the more he remembers, the deeper his heart sinks and drowns and the waves roar.

He remembers. Pale skin, just like now. Seaweed over it, stripes on a painting, covered in seaweed, hidden almost, terrifying, and parted bruished lips, and the eyes. The eyes. Wide blue and drained and staring at the sky and Geralt didn't know if it was the sea that his lungs had sheltered, or himself. Slipped off the cliff, they said. He still doesn't know. Only remembers.

And yet, oh, he's so beautiful now.

Bittersweet. Jaskier walks a few steps, feet leaving no prints on the sand, never. Slowly, he raises his hand, and rests it on Geralt's face, trembling, and the wind trembles with him, and it looks like it will rain. It's nothing. Geralt shivers. Nothing, just the wind, warm on his cheek, a caress, and there are tears in Jaskier's eyes and he's so close now. "I'll leave," he whispers and it floats on the wind as though it refuses to reach his ears. Jaskier huffs, his thumb trying to catch a drop on Geralt's cheek, and catching air. "If you promise not to cry."

Geralt laughs. Cries. "You know I can't do that."

The salt is still there, between the cracks of Jaskier's lips. He wants to kiss it away.

Resigned, Jaskier lets his hand fall. And takes a step back. Rain.

Another step and now his feet sink into the water and Geralt remembers when they used to go near the coast and he would take off his shoes just to wet his feet even if the water was freezing. And he would smile, he would smile so wide and Geralt would think that the rays were so charmed that they chose his eyes to mirror rather the sea.

And the salt would be sweet.

"Jaskier." The poet waits, hums. Geralt's fists clench and he's drenched, shivering. The wind on his cheek is no longer warm. "I love you too."

In a way, he feels guilty. Jaskier always wanted to live by the coast.

He got to die by it.

Yet Jaskier smiles, and his smile is so wide, just like then. Geralt pities the sun that doesn't get to see him.

One last time.

Jaskier smiles and reaches out his hand. "Swim with me, witcher?"

One last time. Geralt doesn't cry. He just walks into the sea, and watches as Jaskier walks deeper, and reaches for him and for once, for once he thinks he will catch him. And never let go again.

Geralt doesn't cry. And if he does, the water will be too high above his head to care.