#revell model racing

[stone-cold-groove]

All I want for Christmas is…

[cherriesnpapaya]

Fashion Killer - LN

In which Mr Norris is left speechless over a sundress.

Warnings: NSFW - smut. unprotected sex, oral (both male and female receiving / giving), friends with benefits, soft dom!lando,

Lan <3 - are you coming to the race?

Miami Grand Prix. In which the men on the grid couldn’t get away from models. Families definitely weren’t invited to this exhilarating mess of a weekend.

On my way sweet cheeks, please find me the coldest drink you can. - sent

Lando couldn’t care less what model they had behind him, trying to seem interested in the sport. He was watching her walk to the paddock in that ridiculously perfect sundress.

Loose, hung perfectly over her american doll legs. The cream of the linen light and only complimented by her brunette hair curled to perfection on her sides. He could practically feel how soft the stands felt as his hands gripped his bottle.

The tan she sported a crude reminder of her skimpy attire she had been living in whilst they lounged around the villa the last few days. He got them the quiet space, filled it with his friends to distract everyone and then revelled in her presence.

Bright smile on her cheeks as she waved for the cameras. Max Fewtrell by her side as they came to join Norris after supporting Fewtrell with his racing activities.

“How are you dressed in that.” She groaned, slipping onto a stool next to him. Lando had to peel his eyes off her legs before he ditched the car to catch a ride instead.

“My job, honey.” He chuckled, holding out his bottle for her. Bad idea.

He watched her lips wrap around the straw. He’s taken back to when he was teaching her how to use the bottles, and somehow ended up with a blowjob.

Final calls were being made to start the pre race media, so Lando stood up and opened his arms for his friends to fall into them.

“Go get em tiger.” She chuckled, the bottle handed back to him with the deep pink stain of her lipstick around the top of it. God how Lando wished to be a straw.

He certainly got them, coming first place for the first time in his career. He dripped with sweat, and some water he’s poured over his face, gleaming ear to ear. His tan still deep golden next to his orange suit.

The celebrations were never ending. From the crowd, his team, other garages and of course his fellow drivers. They poured into his villa, music and drinks flowing freely. The hum of chatter with the occasional cheer as the winner would join conversations. He worked his way round, trying to find the girl he’s been thinking about every second of the day.

“Thought I’d lost you.” He made her jump, slipping into her room. She turned from her position in front of the mirror, earrings in hand.

“I was just going to change.”

“But you look fit.” He could help but speak his mind. The filter between them had been lost about 6 shags ago.

“Have caught you staring a few times.”

“Oh no, punish me for my crimes please.”

He sneered, falling back onto the plush white bed. She rolled her eyes, placing the earrings down. The carpet muffled her steps, letting her slip between his open legs quietly.

“Aren’t you meant to be celebrating?” She teased, arms crossed as he peaked a look at her:

“I am, what’s my prize?” He hummed, sitting up to place his hands on the back of her thighs. Cheeky eyes gazed up at her, watching as her lip caught between her teeth. His thumbs worked circles into the soft skin. She didn’t know if she was desperate, but it felt like they slowly moved inwards.

The music vibrated through the floor, which she was quick to notice when she dropped to her knees. Lando couldn’t help the smirk taken over him, quickly removing anything in the way. He propped back on elbows as she finally took him into her hands.

Profanities rough from his throat as she took him down hers, tongue tracing the vein down the side of him. Bobbing her head, tongue piercing running over his top just how he liked. He throbbed, excitement having built up all day. She hummed, smirking when his head would fall back from watching her.

“Shit baby c’mere.” He ran a hand over her jaw, pushing her off his stained cock. He had the stamina for races in incredible heats, but she knew just how to ruin a man. He slipped off his tshirt in a blink, hands back glued to her hips as he pulled her to straddle his legs.

When she moved to slip her dress off, he caught her wrists, pushing them behind her back to drop them there. Her insides giddy with the move, grinding down slowly on his crotch.

“No chance. You’ve been teasing me with this all day.” He spoke against her neck, leaving sloppy kisses and sucks on any exposed skin. She didn’t even notice his fingers lingering over her panties, moving them to the side.

“Lando.” She whined, arms now hooked around his neck. He kneaded her arse, hips, tits as he sunk into her slowly. Her head rolled, moans covered up by the sounds of some asap song underneath them.

He could barely speak, weak moans fell from his open mouth as she took more control. Moving up and down at her own speed, occasionally rolling her hips to get him to hit that one spot.

She gasped, eyes shut as she rolled continuously into the same spot. Lando knew the tightness, he knew what it meant for you to get close.

“Just like that pretty girl.” He cooed, fingers brushing slowly over her clit in an aggravating manor. A string of swear words left the previously painted lips as she rolled, now mixing between rutting against his fingers and his cock.

Thank god for the loud music as she came for the first time that night, her body spasms into his as the rocking comes to an end.

“You good?” He checked, hands playing with the hem of her dress.

“So good.” Practically drooling, Lando chuckled at the cock drunk girl slumped into him. He attached his lips to hers, lifting her up to swap them around. Her legs rested over the end of the bed, not having a chance to even prop herself up before Lando licked a stripe through her folds.

It was a guilty pleasure of Lando’s, enjoying her body’s reactions to the way he rolled his tongue over her bud. Her legs wrapped around his head, before spreading again as she ran her fingers through his curls. She moaned out as Lando spat into her opening, the smile on his lips almost pushed her over the edge itself. And there she came, for a second time.

“You’re so gorgeous.” He complimented, overwhelmed by the look of her on the bed currently. Fucked out, face flushed and smiling. Hair sprawled out over the mattress, looking like a goddess. It made him harder to just look.

“Fuck me Lando.” She pulled him back in, heel digging into this back causing him to practically fall forward. He pretended to be shocked, moving her ankles to hang over her shoulders as he got right back to it.

“So fucking tight.” He hissed, fucking in and out of her and she swore he was in her stomach. He knew he was nearly fucked out, her nails digging into his stomach hinted the feeling was mutual.

Before he could pull out, he was pushing the warmth into her further. Moaning out probably a bit too loud, stilling completely as they both caught their breaths. Once he had pulled out, he was helping her clean up, pulling the dress back down to sit perfectly again.

“Wear that dress for me again sometime.”

“That’s a boyfriend privilege Norris.”

——————

Thank you for reading! New to the scene, so send any prompts/inspo over. I hope to write lots more for ya ;)

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [15]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 14 | Fic Masterlist | Part 16

"I still don't understand why you had to creep around instead of just approaching her and introducing yourself properly," Jongho remarked, rolling his eyes as Wooyoung clicked his tongue in frustration, "Oh, come on! Can you blame me? She's so beautiful, I got nervous, alright?! I've never had to talk to her before, and I just... I panicked!"

The assistant squinted at his friend, "You do realise if the general catches wind of any of that, you'll be out of a job. Don't tell me you have a crush on our mistress..."

"And you don't?!" The private investigator squeaked, eyes widening in disbelief as Jongho shook his head, unamused, "That's inappropriate. Don't you ever suggest such a thing again."

Wooyoung kept his mouth shut, realising that his friend would be the last person interested in hearing him gush about how pretty he found you. He was fully aware that you were his employer's wife and therefore off-limits. Still, it wouldn't hurt to indulge in the innocent fantasy of being a secret admirer.

Besides, he still valued his life, and it wasn't as if he was actually in love with you or anything. Deep down, humans are all visual animals, and he found his tiny crush on you completely justifiable.

Turning serious, Jongho inquired, "So, what did the mistress need help with? She's been secluded in the study ever since Prince Yeosang's departure and hadn't spoken to any of us until you showed up. Something must have happened."

With a smug nod, Wooyoung responded, "Ah, it seems I already know more than you. How does that feel, senior assistant Choi?" His grin disappeared when the younger man did not react as expected, only staring him down intimidatingly, as if daring him to continue with his playful shenanigans, "Ugh, fine, sheesh. The fourth prince invited her to his birthday banquet happening next week. She's really anxious since it's her first royal event and without General Park. She wants guidance on dealing with the royals."

Head shooting up at the revelation, the assistant knitted his brows together in concern, "The fourth prince... invited her to his birthday banquet? Did he say why?"

The private investigator shrugged, a hint of nonchalance in his tone, "He mentioned that since General Park is away, he hoped Lady Park could represent him this year."

A troubled expression clouded Jongho's features as he processed the information, his mind racing with possible implications. The idea of His Highness extending such an invitation seemed out of the ordinary, sparking unease within him.

Noticing the younger man's troubled demeanour, Wooyoung nudged him on the shoulder, concern evident in his voice, "Why do you look so bothered, man? What's on your mind?"

Jongho's stomach churned as he mulled over his thoughts, his voice tinged with apprehension as he responded, "I wouldn't have been surprised if it had been any of the other princes. But Prince Yeosang? He hasn't hosted a single birthday banquet in years. And besides, his connection with the general is minimal at best. So... what do you think he wants with our mistress?"

That revelation made the private investigator sit up straight, suddenly grasping the complexity of the situation. If what his friend said held true, it meant the fourth prince was plotting something. A surge of protectiveness for you washed over him, wanting to ensure your safety and not let his role model down.

Turning to the assistant, he asked, "Damn, I don't like the sound of that. So what's our move? Should we warn her?"

Jongho shook his head adamantly, "Absolutely not. She'd panic, and that's the last thing we need. I'll fetch the dressmaker; he's one of the general's closest friends, and along with Physician Jung's help, we'll try to figure this out."

"Oh, one more thing!" Wooyoung interjected, grabbing the younger man's attention, "Lady Park did mention that it would be great if she could somehow get in touch with Royal Secretary Choi. It seems she believes he's the only one who can offer helpful advice for navigating the royal event."

Pondering this information quietly, the assistant nodded, "Fortunately, I've corresponded with him on behalf of the general several times. I should be able to reach him easily."

Jongho furrowed his brows, noticing the unsettled expression on the investigator's face, "What's bothering you now?"

Wooyoung sighed, his expression clouded with uncertainty, "The lady also expressed her doubts about whether the royal secretary would even consider helping her. She's unsure if someone as busy as him would take the time to assist her."

Shaking his head, the assistant offered reassurance, "Don't worry. Royal Secretary Choi is genuinely one of the kindest people you'll ever meet. He shares a friendship with the general and will certainly lend a hand to our mistress if she needs it."

That would soon be clear to them all when San arrived to grace everyone in the general's estate with his presence in just a few days, leaving Hongjoong, Yunho, and Wooyoung in awe as they watched the handsome man with an exceptionally fit physique—perhaps a little too fit to be a mere secretary—walk past the three of them, who were sitting in the living hall, with a respectful nod and courteous smile.

Jongho exchanged knowing glances with them as he ushered the royal secretary into the estate and towards the study, where you awaited his guidance with your studies.

"Am I the only one who thinks that guy seems more suited for the battlefield than the royal office?" Wooyoung quipped, prompting a reluctant nod from Hongjoong. For some inexplicable reason, he found the private investigator mildly annoying, almost like a younger brother, "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right about that. He does give off that vibe."

Yunho, known for his wisdom and maturity, offered a shrug in response, "We shouldn't judge someone solely by their appearance. Perhaps the royal secretary excels in matters of intelligence rather than physical strength."

Rolling his eyes, the dressmaker fired back, "Obviously, we're just joking. Lighten up a little, Yunho, or you'll never find a wife with that boring ass attitude."

The physician pursed his lips at the jab, while Wooyoung watched with amusement as the banter between the two friends unfolded, "Says you? You're older and still single. Perhaps the problem lies closer to home."

Hongjoong scoffed in disbelief and placed his hands on his hips, "Excuse you, I'll have you know there are plenty of women vying for my attention every day. It's not my fault I have standards."

"I could say the same." Yunho retorted.

Before the banter could escalate, Jongho intervened with a heavy sigh, "I leave for a minute, and you're already arguing. How is it that all of you are older than me?"

"I agree, assistant Choi. Their behaviour was rather immature," The investigator remarked, feigning innocence when the doctor raised an eyebrow, "You're the one who instigated the whole thing."

Just as Wooyoung opened his mouth to defend himself, the assistant rubbed his temple wearily, "Oh my god, enough. Let's not forget why we're here today—to figure out the intentions of Prince Yeosang regarding our mistress."

"Is that the purpose of this gathering?" Eunsook queried as she appeared by the entrance of the living hall.

The four nodded in confirmation, and the head maid sighed before joining them, "If that's the case, I believe I may be of help. I was with the mistress in the palace on the day the master discovered he had to depart for war. Something happened with the prince while we awaited the general's return from his emergency meeting."

As she recounted the incident at the cherry blossom garden, a dawning realisation settled over all of them. Suddenly, it all clicked into place: why Yeosang, known for despising his own birthday due to its reminders of his painful existence, was now planning a celebration and extending an invitation to Lady Park, of all people. It was clear to the group that the prince had set his sights on the general's wife, and this elaborate scheme was likely his attempt to lure you away from Seonghwa.

"I understand we're all concerned about what His Highness might attempt to win over our mistress, but I believe we should have a little faith in her. Her devotion to General Park is undeniable. I don't think she would easily forsake him after all he's done for her." The physician suggested, hoping to ease the tension in the room.

As the others visibly relaxed with the reminder, the dressmaker appeared to be the only one still troubled, "Yeah, about that..." The dread in the room heightened at Hongjoong's uneasy expression.

"What is it?" Jongho inquired cautiously.

With a frustrated expression, the eldest man among them ran a hand through his hair before recounting the recent encounter with Jinjoo, your stepsister, and the doubts you were starting to entertain about your husband, "I'm sorry, it's all my fault."

The elderly woman's stomach sank at the revelation, but she shook her head to reassure the dressmaker, "No, Hongjoong, it's not your fault. You couldn't have known her stepsister would be there. No matter how much we deny it, the truth has a way of surfacing. We can't hide it from her forever."

The others nodded in agreement, though filled with worry at the implications. They knew Eunsook was right. Eventually, you would likely discover the truth. They just hadn't expected it to happen so soon, especially with Seonghwa away at war. The thought of you being possibly swayed by the fourth prince's charms sent shivers down all their spines.

Well shit, that's not good at all.

"San, you're an absolute lifesaver. Thank you so much." You expressed with gratitude after the lengthy crash course he had just given you on dealing with royal figures when attending such events, offering a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes.

Returning the smile, the royal secretary noticed the fatigue and stress evident in your expression. He sensed there was more to your distress than just the fourth prince's sudden invitation to his birthday banquet. Perhaps his close relationship with his elder sister had sharpened his perception of women's emotions.

Observing your troubled expression, San gently inquired, "Are you feeling quite alright, Lady Park? If you're worried about the general, I can assure you that he is being partnered with only the best military strategist in all of Joseon. They have yet to lose a single battle thus far, I'm sure this time would be no different."

A wave of conflicting emotions washed over you at his words. On one hand, you appreciated his attempt to ease your worries about your husband's safety. On the other hand, a nagging curiosity gnawed at your mind, Jinjoo's words still lingering, urging you to delve deeper into the mysteries surrounding your family's punishments.

San's position as the royal secretary and his close friendship with the general made him an ideal source of information. Surely, he would know the intricate details of the case and could provide you with the answers you sought. However, the thought of uncovering the full truth filled you with trepidation.

What if reality's more than you could bear?

You wrestled with your inner turmoil, unsure of whether to broach the subject with Royal Secretary Choi. Part of you yearned for closure, to finally understand the events that took place without your knowledge. Yet, another part hesitated, fearing the potential consequences of unearthing Seonghwa's carefully buried secrets.

As you glanced at San, who was patiently awaiting your response, you grappled with your decision. Would you dare to confront the shadows of your fears, or would you continue to dwell in uncertainty, afraid of what truths lay beneath?

To hell with it.

Taking a deep breath, you responded, "Thank you for your reassurance regarding my husband's capabilities. However, that's not precisely what's weighing on my mind..."

He arched a curious eyebrow, intrigued by what other concerns could possibly be bothering you besides Seonghwa's safety, "I'm all ears, my lady." He offered, inviting you to share your thoughts.

Lowering your head, you recounted your recent encounter with your stepsister and the unsettling doubts it had stirred within you. Then, with a hesitant tone, you inquired, "May I seek clarification from you regarding my husband's role in the Jang family's punishments?"

San maintained a composed smile, betraying no hint of shock at your revelation. With a calm demeanour, he laced his fingers together before him, "I empathise with your concerns, Lady Park, and I want you to know that they are valid. While the details of the case are confidential, I can offer some clarity to ease your worries."

You held your breath as he continued, "The truth is, His Majesty was responsible for determining your family's physical punishments, but the general took charge of overseeing the entire process."

So, it's true.

Your heart sank at the confirmation.

"Understandably, you may find his involvement frightening. However, you need to know that this has always been the nature of his job. If you think him cruel, remember that every drop of blood shed was in service of this nation's security. He's doing what only a few have the guts to do. And in this case, it's out of love for you that he was determined to ensure that those who harmed you and your mother faced justice. My lady, can you truly fault him for that?"

His words struck you like a boulder, and you realised he might be onto something.

The royal secretary grinned as he observed your expression, knowing his words were making an impact, "Besides, you've been here long enough to witness how good he can be to those he cares about. That includes you, all the staff in this estate, as well as his loyal friends currently seated in the living hall. Surely, there must be a good reason why these people choose to remain by his side, wouldn't you agree?"

Noting your silence and contemplative expression, San understood that you needed time to digest everything. While he hoped he had made a valid point, he knew that your conflicting emotions wouldn't dissipate so easily. Nevertheless, he had done his best to encourage you to keep an open mind and speak the truth.

Ultimately, the next steps were up to you.

"As much as I'd like to stay and chat, I have another appointment scheduled in an hour, so I should probably head to my next destination." He announced, rising from his seat opposite you.

His words snapped you out of your reverie as you got up after him, "Ah, yes, of course. I can't thank you enough for everything, San."

As you escorted him towards the exit, he smiled warmly at you, "You're most welcome, Lady Park. Don't fret too much about the royal event next week. I'm sure you'll do splendidly, especially considering you've already managed to impress the fourth prince. He's not an easy royal to handle, so that's quite an achievement."

Prince Yeosang is... not easy to handle?

Before you could ask him to elaborate, the royal secretary was already boarding his carriage. With a defeated sigh, you waved at him as the vehicle began to pull away.

Heading back inside, your mind reeled from his words. His Highness had never seemed difficult around you, so you struggled to comprehend what San meant. Besides his slightly playful demeanour, you didn't find the prince hard to handle in any way.

Before you knew it, your head began to throb with the endless thoughts swirling around. Eunsook rushed over in concern when she saw you swaying, your hands pressed against your temples.

"Mistress! Are you feeling alright? Oh dear, you look exhausted," She exclaimed, her worry evident in her voice, "That's enough studying for today. Go and rest. I'll bring you dinner when it's ready."

Throughout the rest of the week, Jongho and the others couldn't bring themselves to warn you about the potential advances of the fourth prince. They noticed how visibly stressed you were, dedicating all your time to refining your ladylike etiquette and practising formal speech with the head maid. Your determination for perfection in your debut at a royal event was clear as day.

After receiving all the help you needed, you were finally ready for the banquet. Standing before the mirror, you inspected yourself, admiring the delicate red flower the dressmaker had once again helped you paint on your forehead, perfectly complementing your new hanbok, "Are you pleased with the look, Lady Park?"

You nodded enthusiastically, "Absolutely, Hongjoong. You never disappoint, and you know that."

With newfound confidence, you departed from the general's estate, accompanied by Jongho and Eunsook. Mentally reviewing the list of potential royals in attendance, you appreciated Wooyoung's efforts in the past week as he assisted you with retrieving specific books from the public library and studying the royal family tree.

The private investigator lingered near the estate's entrance after seeing you off, his jaw slightly agape. He had always found you pretty, but seeing you all dressed up and with the flower on your forehead, he was struck by your ethereal beauty. Just as he was about to entertain the thought that Seonghwa must have saved an entire country to deserve someone like you, he realised that might actually be true.

"Excuse me, Jung Wooyoung. That's not your lady to be ogling like that. Behave yourself, or I'll have to whoop your ass on behalf of the general." Hongjoong warned, rolling his eyes as the younger man pouted before sulking back inside the estate.

As your carriage approached the familiar high palace walls, Jongho and Eunsook exchanged determined glances. They had agreed to stick by your side at all times, wanting to protect you from whatever schemes Prince Yeosang might have planned for the event.

"We've arrived, mistress." The assistant announced as the carriage came to a stop.

With the head maid's assistance, you stepped down from the carriage with slightly less ease than when your husband carried you, feeling a pang in your heart as you were reminded of him. Despite your complicated feelings, you couldn't deny the longing for his presence. You hoped he was safe and well while you attended the birthday celebration of another.

Approaching the grand entrance of the hall hosting the fourth prince's birthday banquet, you noticed that the palace staff responsible for announcing guests had recognised you immediately, sparing Jongho the need to introduce you. As you reached the entrance, the staff announced in a loud voice, "Miss Jang, eldest daughter of the former Minister of Military Affairs, has arrived."

Your shock was palpable as the announcement rang out, your eyes widening and your stomach sinking at the unexpected introduction. The last thing you wanted was to be associated with your father, especially not at such a prestigious event. You had been specifically told by the prince that you were here to represent your husband. So why would they announce you like that, using your past title, when you now held a new and official one as the general's wife? The discrepancy left you feeling uneasy and out of place as you stepped into the grand hall.

What's the meaning of this, Your Highness?

« Preview of Part 16 »

"General Park! Letters for General Park!"

The messenger's urgent cry echoed through the camp, drawing attention to the main tent where Seonghwa typically conducted his affairs between battles. Bursting into the tent, the messenger gasped for breath, his eyes darting around, "Sir, may I enter?"

"Come in," A deep voice replied, but it wasn't the general's. Officer Song, the military strategist, sat alone inside, his gaze fixed on the newcomer, "General Park is uhh... preoccupied elsewhere at the moment. What brings you here, soldier?"

Handing over the stack of letters he carried, the messenger answered, "The general has received a few missives, one from his assistant and another from His Highness, the fourth prince."

Mingi's brow furrowed in confusion, "The fourth prince?"

The messenger nodded vigorously, "Yes, His Highness mentioned it's regarding an urgent matter and should be delivered to the general as soon as possible."

Officer Song nodded in acknowledgement, "I see. Leave it to me, soldier. I'll ensure it reaches him as soon as he's available."

As soon as the messenger departed, Mingi's curiosity overwhelmed him, and he unfolded the letter from Prince Yeosang. His breath hitched as he absorbed the concise yet weighty message. The prince started off by conveying gratitude for Seonghwa's service to the nation and extended well wishes, reassuring him not to worry about returning.

However, the content took a surprising turn with his final paragraph.

'Out of respect for you, I am writing to inform you that I will be proposing to Miss Jang. I believe she deserves the freedom to choose her own husband. Perhaps what she needs is someone who can remain by her side and not cause her any worry. If you truly care about her happiness, you would understand.'

Once again setting the stage for the main event HAHA sorry for the (sorta) filler chapter, but I promise there will definitely be drama in the next part.😈

Also, thank you so much for 1.3k followers! As always, thank you for reading and please let me know your thoughts! <3

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[amirasainz]

Could you please do amira going on keeping up with the kardashian as she grew a sweet bond with Kim at the med and all the kardashian love her, also the grid watching that episode for her

It was so much fun writing this one. You guys can always send some requests. Enjoy reading and Adios! -XoXo

Keeping up with the Kardashians

The anticipation in the room was palpable—a sense of déjà vu as drivers and WAGs gathered around the TV, waiting for the show to begin. Snacks and drinks were strewn about, and Lando’s impatient whining echoed through the room. “When is it starting?” he whined from the floor. Max groaned: "I swear to fucking God" and Lily’s loud "Everyone, shut up. It's starting!" startled everyone.

Finally, after a quick recap of the last episode and the intro, the moment arrived. Kim, Khloe, and Kris sat outside on the garden furniture. Kim began, “You guys know I attended the Met Gala a few weeks ago.” Khloe and Kris nodded, their curiosity piqued. “And you also know how I met this really sweet girl at the After Party. Well, I thought it was time to introduce you to this special someone.”

Khloe’s excitement bubbled over. “No way. No freaking way. Kimberly, if this is a joke, I’ll never talk to you again.” Kris whispered, her smile wide, “Oh my God…”

Then, a voice interrupted—the very person they were discussing. “Hello, mujeres guapas. How are you all doing?” Amira stood there, and Kim quickly enveloped her in a hug. “Hi, wifey. Look at you. You look amazing.” The warmth between them was evident.

Amira turned to greet Kris and Khloe, hugging them both. As the women chatted, Kim beamed with pride. Finally, her wifey was meeting her family. She held Amira’s hand, squeezing it three times—an unspoken language of love, pride, and gratitude.

As the scene shifted to the Kourtney and Scott drama, chatter erupted in the room. “Why did Kim grab her hand like that?” Kika asked with a hint of jealousy. “Why aren’t Kris and Khloe fans of me too?” Oscar wondered quietly. “Does this mean she’s an honorary Kardashian now?” Charles exchanged a confused look with Pierre. Carlos shushed the room, eager to hear more.

The scene transitioned to a Kardashian-Jenner family dinner. Amidst the chaos of kids playing outside, Kris began, “You guys will never guess who Khloe and I met the other day.” The table leaned in, eager for the revelation. “Who?” Kendall teased. Kylie and Kourtney exchanged amused glances. “Amira Sainz.”

The room erupted. “No. No way!” “What?” “What the…” Excitement buzzed. Kendall fired off questions: “Is she nice? Does she like horses? Do you think she’d like my modeling? Would she like ME?” Kourtney interjected, “Hold your horses, Kenny. The only way they’d have met Amira means that—” Kylie cut her off, “Kimberly Noel Kardashian, tell me you didn’t.” "Why is everyone saying my full name the whole time?" asked Kim. Chaos ensued, and before viewers could witness the ensuing fight, the outro played.

Suffice it to say, with Amira’s confirmed appearances for the next few races, the show’s ratings soared.

[nayziiz]

No Way | LN4

Summary: Lando Norris, an F1 driver for McLaren Racing, faces persistent attention on his single status. In an attempt to appease fans and quell rumours, his management suggests a fake relationship with a popular Portuguese model. However, Lando's PR manager, Natalie, disagrees, believing fans would see through the ploy. As an alternative, Lando's management notices the genuine bond between him and Natalie and proposes they feign a relationship for authenticity. Initially hesitant, they agree, given their existing friendship and professional connection. The fake relationship takes an unexpected turn as Lando and Natalie grapple with burgeoning real feelings, attempting unsuccessfully to conceal their growing emotions.

Pairing: Lando Norris x Original Character (Natalie)

Warnings: Mentions of physical and emotional abuse

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1

As the new F1 season begins, a wave of anticipation and excitement envelops both Natalie and Lando. For Lando, the racetrack is not just a place to showcase his driving prowess; it's a canvas where he paints his aspirations of success. The aspiration to perform consistently, stand atop the podium, and clinch victories symbolises his hunger for glory. This season represents a pivotal moment in his career, a chance to transcend from promising talent to a formidable force in Formula 1.

Lando's focus on consistent performance indicates a strategic approach to the season. He understands the importance of not just individual brilliance but also the need for a sustained effort across races. The podium is not merely a physical platform; it's a symbol of accomplishment and recognition. Standing there signifies that Lando has not only met but exceeded expectations. Each race becomes an opportunity for him to etch his name in the history of McLaren and Formula 1.

Meanwhile, for Natalie, the new season brings its own set of challenges and goals. Her role as Lando's PR Manager is not just about managing media interactions and public relations; it's about crafting and enhancing Lando's image both on and off the track. The challenge lies in maintaining a delicate balance between showcasing Lando's personality and ensuring a positive public perception.

However, Natalie's ambitions reach beyond the immediate season. She envisions herself as more than just a PR Manager; her goal is to ascend to the position of managing the entire McLaren F1 team. This aspiration reflects not only her confidence in her abilities but also her commitment to the long-term success of the team. Solidifying her role with Lando is a stepping stone toward greater responsibilities within the McLaren organisation.

“I haven’t seen Lucas around. Is he still coming to watch the race?” Lando innocently asks Natalie as they sit in his driver’s room with Lando signing caps and other McLaren merchandise.

“I doubt it.” Natalie responds, avoiding eye contact.

“Oh. How come?” Lando asks, confused.

“We broke up.” Natalie informs him as she hands him the next batch of caps to sign.

“When did that happen? He didn’t mention anything to me.” Lando continues to pry.

“After Christmas.” Natalie bluntly answers.

Lando's signature hand pauses mid-air as he processes Natalie's revelation. The room, once filled with the mechanical hum of the race cars outside, now echoes with the weight of unexpected news. His innocent inquiry unravels a personal chapter that Natalie had kept tightly closed for months.

The dynamics between Lando and Lucas had always been a delicate balance, their interactions shaped by a shared connection with Natalie. While Lando and Lucas managed to find common ground and form a semblance of friendship, the undercurrent of tension remained, fueled by Lando's observations of how Lucas treated Natalie during her first season with McLaren the year prior.

Natalie had been the bridge between the two, her professional role demanding a level of collaboration between her boyfriend and the driver she worked with. Lando, appreciating the importance of maintaining a harmonious team atmosphere, tried to put aside his personal reservations for the sake of professionalism. However, it wasn't easy for him to look past Lucas's treatment of Natalie.

Lando, inherently protective of those close to him, struggled to like Lucas when he witnessed moments of disrespect or insensitivity toward Natalie. It wasn't just about professional courtesy; it was a matter of personal values. Lando valued the people around him, especially those who supported him in various capacities, and seeing someone mistreat Natalie sparked a sense of loyalty and concern.

In those moments, Lando found himself grappling with the conflict between friendship and principle. While he maintained a civil demeanour and tried to foster a positive atmosphere with Lucas, there were times when he couldn't suppress his disapproval of Lucas's behaviour. The struggle to balance his personal feelings with the need for a cohesive team dynamic presented an ongoing challenge for Lando.

Natalie, caught in the middle, appreciated Lando's support but also urged him to prioritise the professional environment. She understood the complexities of the situation and attempted to keep the personal and professional spheres separate. However, the tension lingered, adding an additional layer of complexity to the dynamics within the McLaren team.

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.” Lando says, the tone of his voice now tinged with concern. He couldn't help but feel a sense of awkwardness settling in the room. The merchandise, once a simple part of race day preparations, now carries an unexpected emotional weight.

Natalie maintains her focus on the merchandise, her eyes fixed on the caps as she avoids direct eye contact with Lando. The revelation casts a subtle shadow over the room, and she is determined to carry on with their professional tasks, steering clear of the personal. Lando, however, can't let it go

“After Christmas? Why didn't you tell me?” Lando asks, a mix of confusion and curiosity etched on his face.

“Honestly, I was just trying to keep my head above water.” Natalie confesses, her eyes revealing a mix of vulnerability and resilience. She takes a deep breath, gathering her thoughts before continuing. "Remember, we dated before I moved to the UK. We lived together, so I had to get my own place and move all my stuff."

Lucas, her high school sweetheart, had been her anchor for six years. Their journey had taken them from South Africa to the UK, where Natalie pursued her studies and Lucas secured a job opportunity in London. He was more than just a partner; he represented home, stability, and a significant chapter of her life.

Despite the duration of their relationship and the shared history, Natalie found herself in a place of grief. The breakup marked the end of a long-standing connection, and the process of disentangling their lives proved to be a challenging and emotional endeavour. Lucas had been her constant, her support system, even if it came at a cost.

Lucas's treatment toward Natalie painted a stark contrast to the nostalgia that might have lingered in her heart. The emotional toll of being screamed at, called names, and enduring his disdain for her job added a layer of complexity to the grieving process. Despite the toxicity, the familiarity of their history made it difficult for Natalie to sever those emotional ties completely.

Lando, now privy to the depths of Natalie's experience, feels a surge of empathy and concern. He realises that her grief wasn't solely about the end of a romantic relationship but also the dismantling of a life she had built with someone who, at one point, had been her everything.

Lucas merely befriended Lando with ulterior motives as to ensure nothing would ever foster emotionally between Lando and Natalie because of their close working relationship. Lando, who had tried to maintain a friendship despite his reservations about Lucas's treatment of Natalie, now grapples with a newfound understanding of the underlying dynamics.

“You should have told me, then I could have helped you.” Lando mumbles, his eyes convey a mixture of regret and genuine concern .

“Shoulda, woulda, coulda, huh?” Natalie, ever resilient, responds with a subtle smile.

“Nattie, seriously. Are you OK?” Lando genuinely asks, his voice reflecting a sincerity that transcends their professional relationship.

“I’m better now.” Natalie assures him, her small smile carrying a hint of gratitude.

The acknowledgment of Lando's concern created a bridge between them, a reminder that beyond the race strategies and public relations duties, they were individuals navigating the complexities of life.

Lando's soft spot for Natalie had been evident from the very beginning, stretching back to her first day at the McLaren Technology Centre over a year ago. There was something about her kindness, dedication, and unwavering support that resonated with him. As they travelled the globe together for races, a bond formed, rooted in mutual respect and trust.

The introduction to Lucas after the first race of the previous season brought about a different dynamic. Lando, despite his efforts to maintain harmony, couldn't comprehend the connection between Natalie and Lucas. They seemed like polar opposites, and Lucas's penchant for criticising Natalie's work only deepened Lando's reservations.

Despite his disapproval, Lando tried to bridge the gap by inviting Lucas out, attempting to understand the dynamics of their relationship. However, in those moments, he couldn't shake the feeling that Natalie deserved better. Lucas's possessive and objectifying attitude towards Natalie grated on Lando's sensibilities, making him acutely aware of the stark difference in how they viewed and treated her.

Lando grappled with the discomfort of witnessing someone he considered a friend be treated in such a way. The distaste for Lucas's disrespectful remarks and possessive demeanour fueled an internal conflict, as Lando navigated the fine line between maintaining professional courtesy and expressing his concern for Natalie.

Despite his observations, Lando refrained from explicitly sharing his thoughts with Natalie. He respected her independence and knew she was capable of making her own decisions. Yet, he held onto the hope that she would see Lucas for who he truly was - and she finally did. The news of Natalie ending things with Lucas brought a sense of relief to Lando. He felt genuinely happy for her, recognizing that she could now move forward with her life unburdened by a toxic relationship.

“Anyway, enough about me” Natalie states, her tone lightening. “Did a special lady pop up since I last saw you?”

“Nope. Still just me, myself, and I.” Lando chuckles in response, a hint of amusement in his eyes.

“The fans are going to have a field day knowing you're still single.” Natalie playfully adds.

“I'm happy to be single until I find someone who ticks all the boxes.” Lando, unbothered, responds with a confident grin.

Lando reassuringly squeezes Natalie’s shoulder before he hurries off to speak with his race engineer. Natalie takes a seat behind the screens and pops on a headset as she watches replays of qualifying the day before. The ambient sounds of the garage, a mix of distant engine roars and muffled conversations, create a dynamic backdrop to the focused atmosphere.

With the headset snugly in place, Natalie's attention sharpens on the screens in front of her. The glow illuminates her face as she immerses herself in the detailed analysis of the team's performance during the qualifying session. The occasional chatter over the headset and the intermittent sounds of tools and equipment being handled blend into a rhythmic symphony, underscoring the team's preparation for the imminent race.

- AFTER THE RACE -

“Congratulations, Lando, on a great race today. What does this mean for the rest of the season?” The enthusiastic interviewer asks Lando.

“Appreciate it. Big shoutout to the McLaren crew for their grind during the winter break, putting together a solid car. We're still getting the hang of the new machine, but snagging second and fourth at the season kick-off is a promising start. Looking forward to unleashing this beast on the other tracks.” Lando explains, sweat dripping down his brow from the hot race he had just completed.

“You seemed to have a busy winter break. What, or who, do you think helped get you into a positive mindset coming into this season?” The interviewer continues.

“Honestly, just spending time with my family and friends was a great reminder to remain humble and appreciate the small moments in life. I lost my granddad over the winter break, so that kind of put things into perspective for me.” Lando answers, wiping away the sweat with a towel.

“And, no lucky lady to celebrate your P2 tonight?” The interviewer chuckles.

Natalie's gaze lifts to the interviewer, registering the conspicuous absence of sympathy in their response to Lando's revelation. The weight of the loss he had shared seemed to hang in the air, untouched by the expected words of condolence or empathy. Unsettled by the apparent oversight, Natalie decides to intervene, steering the conversation in a more considerate direction.

“That’s all we have time for, thank you.” Natalie declares - her tone firm - as she guides Lando away from the glaring cameras and back into the welcoming confines of the hospitality building. Lando, still processing the insensitive turn of the interview, quickened his pace to keep up with Natalie through the hallways. “Absolutely crass.”

“What’s that?” Lando questions, his eyebrows furrowing in a mix of confusion and frustration.

“I sometimes forget how classless the media can be. Seriously, you disclose the fact that you lost your grandfather and she makes no effort to express her sympathy.” Natalie explains, her voice tinged with a blend of disappointment and protective concern for her driver.

The weight of recent events hung heavy on Natalie's heart as she made the journey to the UK to attend Lando's grandfather's funeral. Mere days after her breakup with Lucas, her own heartbreak was set aside as she prioritised being there for Lando and offering support to him and his grieving family. The bond with Lando's family had grown strong since she joined McLaren, with invitations to holiday events making her feel like an extended member of their close-knit circle.

Lando's family had always gone above and beyond to include her in their gatherings. The previous Easter weekend, when she couldn't travel back to South Africa to be with her own family, they had made her feel welcomed and loved. These gestures had forged a sense of belonging, making Lando's family an integral part of her life.

Sitting in the back of the church during the funeral, Natalie observed the waves of grief that swept over Lando and his family. Tears and sobs echoed in the sombre atmosphere as they mourned the loss of their beloved family member. Natalie, despite her own struggles and heartache, focused on providing the support that Lando and his family needed during this difficult time.

It was precisely the depth of this loss that left Natalie annoyed by the subsequent interviewer's callousness. The media had no idea how profoundly the death had rocked Lando's family, and their lack of empathy struck a nerve with Natalie. The disconnect between the public facade and the private grief was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by individuals in the public eye, and Natalie, protective of those she cared about, found herself grappling with a mix of emotions as she navigated the intricate tapestry of personal and professional relationships within the McLaren family.

“Hey, it’s OK.” Lando offers, attempting to console Natalie. “Like I said to her, it puts things in a different perspective.”

Natalie glances at Lando over her shoulder, and a sense of relief washes over her. His calm demeanour and understanding response reassure her. He doesn't seem upset by the insensitive question or the lack of empathy from the interviewer, giving Natalie a cue to let go of her annoyance. Natalie takes a deep breath, appreciating the support from Lando and the acknowledgment that some things are beyond their control.

- THAT NIGHT -

“It’s been a stellar start to the year and we’re looking forward to seeing where Lando and Oscar take McLaren this year. Here’s to a brilliant season.” Zak Brown declares with a smile as he raises his champagne flute for a toast at the McLaren start-of-the-season dinner.

The long table is filled with the McLaren team, a diverse group ranging from mechanics to engineers to marketing officials. Zak's words resonate, creating a moment of shared excitement and anticipation for the upcoming season. After the toast, the team engages in lively conversation and indulges in the dinner spread.

Seated between the two drivers, Natalie finds herself immersed in a discussion about a specific corner at the Bahrain Grand Prix, a topic that unites the trio. Lando, with a casual ease, rests his arm on the back of Natalie's chair as he leans over to chat with Oscar. Natalie, sitting back, feels a sense of relaxation and peace. It's a stark contrast to the weeks of turmoil since her relationship ended. In the midst of her team, surrounded by people who share her passion for racing, Natalie rediscovers a familiar sense of joy and camaraderie.

“It was smooth. I don’t think I’ve taken that corner that well before.” Lando adds with a grin as he engages in conversation with his teammate.

Their camaraderie, evolving from being teammates to friends, is evident in their banter. The second season together has brought about a deeper understanding, and the shared experiences on the track have solidified their connection.

“Compared to DNFing last year, this was by far one of my favourite races yet.” Oscar comments, his enthusiasm evident in his words. However, before the conversation can delve deeper, he gets distracted by someone to his left, leaving the statement hanging in the air.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Lando observes, his light nudge to Natalie's ribs coaxing a small smile from her.

“Just taking everything in. I missed this.” She explains, her gaze wandering across the lively scene around them.

“I suppose it helps not having someone constantly messaging you to find out what you’re doing.” Lando comments before realising the weight of his words.

“There is that too.” Natalie agrees, her chuckle carrying a hint of relief.

“I know it must be difficult, but I’m just glad you’ll be able to enjoy your life without feeling guilty.” Lando tells her, his eyes meeting hers. With a subtle gesture, he removes his arm from the back of her chair, proceeding to savour his dessert.

He had found her crying in the paddock one too many times last season to not be relieved about her leaving Lucas. Lando had been an inadvertent witness to the toll their relationship was taking on Natalie's mental health and self-esteem. He had seen the tears, heard the phone calls, and been privy to the distressing text messages. It was evident that the relationship had become a source of emotional strain and turmoil for her.

For Lando, seeing Natalie break free from the shackles of that tumultuous relationship was a cause for genuine happiness. He knew she deserved to live her life peacefully and without the heavy burden of regrets. The bond they shared within the McLaren family went beyond the racetrack; it extended into the realm of personal well-being. Lando, having witnessed Natalie's struggles, felt a profound sense of relief knowing that she could now move forward and find the tranquillity and happiness she deserved.

“And, for what it’s worth, you seem happier.” Lando adds, his genuine concern and care evident as he spoons a mouthful of Tiramisu into his mouth.

Natalie smiles in response, savouring a bite of her lemon cheesecake. The bond between her and Lando had been instantaneous when she started working for McLaren. Circumstances dictated their closeness as they spent more time together than with their own friends or family. Lando's visits home to his parents often included Natalie, who had no family or friends in the UK or Monaco until Lucas moved to the UK.

A shift occurred when Lucas moved to London, becoming a more constant presence in Natalie's life. She moved in with him, and the dynamic with Lando changed. Lucas's insecurity cast a shadow over her friendship with Lando, even though it was an integral part of her professional responsibilities to be by his side at races and media appearances. The relationship became stifling, with Lucas questioning Natalie's every move and decision. Lando, recognizing the toxicity of the situation, did his best to support Natalie and mitigate the escalating tensions.

“My parents are going to be in Jeddah next weekend. They’ve been dying to see you.” Lando tells Natalie.

“I’ve missed them so much.” Natalie admits with a genuine smile, the warmth of her emotions evident. “And, your sisters, of course.”

“They’re coming as well.” Lando adds, causing her smile to grow even bigger. The anticipation of reuniting with familiar faces, especially those who have become a second family to her, adds an extra layer of joy to the upcoming weekend.

As Lando and Natalie stepped out of the restaurant, the crisp night air greeted them, providing a refreshing contrast to the warmth of the dinner venue. The decision to walk back to the hotel seemed like a natural extension of the camaraderie they shared, and the short distance only added to the appeal.

The city's evening lights painted a picturesque scene around them as they strolled along the illuminated streets. The ambient sounds of the city, a harmonious blend of distant traffic hums and the occasional laughter from nearby cafes, created a tranquil backdrop for their conversation.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what was the final straw?” Lando bluntly asks her.

“What do you mean?” Natalie asks, confused.

“What made you finally break up with him?” He clarifies.

“It was a series of things that happened leading up to Christmas. We obviously went home to celebrate Christmas with our families back home. I got him this stunning watch he had been raving over for months, gave it to him and he was so uninterested in it. I mean, I get it, tastes fade, but I spent quite a bit of money on it and he was so unappreciative of it. And, he literally gifted me a notebook set that he must have bought the day before, no thought whatsoever.” Natalie starts. “Then as we got back to the guesthouse after dinner, he started complaining that I spent all day on my phone and demanded to see who I was texting. So, I gave him my phone and, honestly, I still don’t quite know what he saw, but he threw my phone against the wall and it broke, obviously.”

“So, he was getting physically aggressive?” Lando asks.

“Very much. When I asked him why he threw my phone, he went on this tirade about how he knew I was cheating on him, blah, blah, blah, and before I knew it, I was shoved into a door. Bruised my arm pretty badly. And, that was it. I don’t think I ever felt that disgusted in my life. I took my stuff, drove back to my Mom’s and booked a flight back. Luckily I had a spare phone. And, when I got back to London, I started packing my stuff and then you let me know about your granddad, then I was on my way to you.” Natalie elaborates.

“I had no idea things got so out of hand.” Lando mutters as they continue to stroll at a leisurely pace towards the hotel.

“I should have ended things far sooner looking back.” Natalie comments as she shoves her hands into her jacket’s pockets.

The two continue to walk in silence, the weight of Natalie's revelation hanging in the air. Deep down, Lando's blood boils with a mixture of anger and frustration. The idea that Natalie had endured such emotional and physical trauma at the hands of someone who claimed to love her fills him with a sense of indignation.

As they navigate the quiet streets, the rhythmic sound of their footsteps is punctuated by the heavy thoughts that occupy their minds. Lando, usually so composed, finds himself grappling with the harsh reality of Natalie's experiences.

“Just know that I’m here no matter what. If he even tries to contact you or anything, you let me know.” Lando blurts out.

“Thank you.” Natalie shyly agrees as he pulls her under his arm.

In that moment, their protectiveness for each other takes on a new level. The unspoken understanding between them solidifies into a spoken promise of support and vigilance. Lando's words carry a weight of sincerity, a commitment to stand by Natalie's side through whatever challenges may arise.

Their bond, forged through shared experiences and a genuine friendship, becomes a fortress against the trials of life. They have each other's backs, ready to go to battle if it means preserving the other’s sanity. The unyielding loyalty they share is a testament to the strength of their connection.

They make a formidable team, and in each other's company, they find solace, strength, and a profound understanding that transcends the confines of their roles within McLaren.

[transmutationisms]

@cubeghost sure, here are some places to start:

"Spectacles of Difference: The Racial Scripting of Epidemic Disparities", Keith A. Wailoo (Bulletin of the History of Medicine 94.4, 2020, 602–625, DOI 10.1353/bhm.2020.0085)

This essay explores how epidemics in the past and present give rise to distinctive, recurring racial scripts about bodies and identities, with sweeping racial effects beyond the Black experience. Using examples from cholera, influenza, tuberculosis, AIDS, and COVID-19, the essay provides a dramaturgical analysis of race and epidemics in four acts, moving from Act I, racial revelation; to Act II, the staging of bodies and places; to Act III, where race and disease is made into spectacle; and finally, Act IV, in which racial boundaries are fixed, repaired, or made anew in the response to the racial dynamics revealed by epidemics. Focusing primarily on North America but touching on global racial narratives, the essay concludes with reflections on the writers and producers of these racialized dramas, and a discussion of why these racialized repertoires have endured.

"Epidemics Have Lost the Plot", Guillaume Lachenal & Gaëtan Thomas (Bulletin of the History of Medicine 94.4, 2020, 670–689, DOI 10.1353/bhm.2020.0089)

This article draws on Charles Rosenberg's classic essay "What Is an Epidemic?" (1989) to reflect on the complex narrative structures and temporalities of epidemics as they are experienced and storied. We begin with an analysis of Rosenberg's use of Albert Camus's The Plague and a discussion of how epidemics have been modeled in literature and in epidemiology concomitantly. Then, we argue that Charles Rosenberg's characterization of epidemics as events bounded in time that display narrative and epidemiological purity fails to account for the reinvention of life within health crises. Adopting the ecological, archaeological, and anthropological perspectives developed within African studies enriches the range of available plots, roles, and temporal sequences and ultimately transforms our way of depicting epidemics. Instead of events oriented toward their own closure, epidemics might be approached as unsettling, seemingly endless periods during which life has to be recomposed.

"Revisiting "What Is an Epidemic?" in the Time of COVID-19: Lessons from the History of Latin American Public Health", Mariola Espinosa (Bulletin of the History of Medicine 94.4, 2020, 627–636, DOI 10.1353/bhm.2020.0086)

This essay considers what thirty years of scholarship on the history of epidemics in Latin America and the larger hemisphere can bring to a current reading of Charles Rosenberg's influential 1989 essay, "What Is an Epidemic? AIDS in Historical Perspective." It advocates that taking a broader geographical view is valuable to understanding better the arc of an epidemic in society. In addition, it proposes that, to see the ways in which the United States is experiencing the COVID-19 pandemic, we need to place the United States alongside the experiences of other countries of the Americas rather than making comparisons to Europe.

"The model crisis, or how to have critical promiscuity in the time of Covid-19", Warwick Anderson (Social Studies of Science 51.2, April 2021, 167–188, DOI 10.1177/0306312721996053)

During the past forty years, statistical modelling and simulation have come to frame perceptions of epidemic disease and to determine public health interventions that might limit or suppress the transmission of the causative agent. The influence of such formulaic disease modelling has pervaded public health policy and practice during the Covid-19 pandemic. The critical vocabulary of epidemiology, and now popular debate, thus includes R0, the basic reproduction number of the virus, ‘flattening the curve’, and epidemic ‘waves’. How did this happen? What are the consequences of framing and foreseeing the pandemic in these modes? Focusing on historical and contemporary disease responses, primarily in Britain, I explore the emergence of statistical modelling as a ‘crisis technology’, a reductive mechanism for making rapid decisions or judgments under uncertain biological constraint. I consider how Covid-19 might be configured or assembled otherwise, constituted as a more heterogeneous object of knowledge, a different and more encompassing moment of truth – not simply as a measured telos directing us to a new normal. Drawing on earlier critical engagements with the AIDS pandemic, inquiries into how to have ‘theory’ and ‘promiscuity’ in a crisis, I seek to open up a space for greater ecological, sociological, and cultural complexity in the biopolitics of modelling, thereby attempting to validate a role for critique in the Covid-19 crisis.

Constructing the Outbreak: Epidemics in Media and Collective Memory, Katherine Foss (2020, ISBN 9781625345271)

Constructing the Outbreak demonstrates how news reporting on epidemics communicates more than just information about pathogens; rather, prejudices, political agendas, religious beliefs, and theories of disease also shape the message. Analyzing seven epidemics spanning more than two hundred years―from Boston's smallpox epidemic and Philadelphia's yellow fever epidemic in the eighteenth century to outbreaks of diphtheria, influenza, and typhoid in the early twentieth century―Katherine A. Foss discusses how shifts in journalism and medicine influenced the coverage, preservation, and fictionalization of different disease outbreaks. Each case study highlights facets of this interplay, delving into topics such as colonization, tourism, war, and politics. Through this investigation into what has been preserved and forgotten in the collective memory of disease, Foss sheds light on current health care debates, like vaccine hesitancy.

"Reconsidering the Dramaturgy", Dora Vargha (Bulletin of the History of Medicine 94.4, 2020, 690–698, DOI 10.1353/bhm.2020.0090)

This essay reconsiders epidemic narratives through the lens of polio to examine temporal shifts and overlapping and conflicting temporalities and assess some of the stakes in how we conceptualize the epidemic dramaturgy. I argue that while the dramaturgy of epidemics serves as a thread around which people, state actors, and institutions organize experiences, responses, and expectations, consideration of the multiplicity of epidemic temporalities is crucial in understanding how medical practice and knowledge are shaped and transferred, particularly with attention to actors that might be rendered invisible by the conventional narrative arc.

i also recommend the September 2023 special issue of the IsisCB, Bibliographic Essays on the History of Pandemics. these essays cover more than disease narratology but many of them do discuss it, and they are intended to serve as guidelines / commentary on their accompanying bibliographies, so they can be really helpful in getting further reading recs or an introduction to any of these sub-topics. also, this entire special issue was published open access (CC-BY license), so you don't have to screw around with bypassing paywalls paying for these essays.

[misshoneyimhome]

Nothing screams like wifey material when the reader cooks him Sweedish food and makes his breeding kink go up up. https://500px.com/photo/1075823846/cooking-vibes-by-buyanskyy-exclusive-photo-and-video-on-patreon

Babe, I swear this was how Eliot was created in the first place, for the 「Dad!Willy x reader」 series 😉🙈

Reader was such a snack, and though William loved nothing more than to practice the doing, she did ignite the idea of a family is his head.

He might have had the thought w few times before, however, when she showed her ultimate Wifey potential he couldn’t shake it off.

・✶ ｡ﾟ

Wifey material | William Nylander🤰🏼💭 [Blurb]

William Nylander had always wanted a family, inspired by his own rather large one. Yet, with his hockey career taking up most of his time and lasting relationships not panning out, he never imagined it happening quite like it did for his father.

His parents had been exemplary role models during his upbringing. It was truly admirable how they stayed together despite his dad Michael juggling his professional hockey career.

Their journey hadn’t been without its challenges. Constantly moving the family around North America made it difficult for the young Nylanders to establish stable social lives. It wasn't until William and his brother Alex decided to stay in Sweden to join the national team that they found a sense of stability.

And ever since then, William had dreamed of providing his own children with a warm and secure upbringing, in a comfortable home.

Which was a dream that became a possibility when you entered his life. Despite enjoying his carefree bachelor lifestyle, you turned everything on its head, igniting in him a desire to settle down and reconsider his ideas about relationships.

You weren't just a passing fling, and you weren't a casual one night stand he could forget about. You were something special, someone who seemed like you were there to stay. Which became more apparent as you became increasingly involved in his daily life. Your support at his games and your willingness to meet him late at night after training impressed him more than anything else.

Your effortless integration into his life, from sporting his jersey to standing by his side through victories and defeats, earned you a special place in William's heart. You seamlessly mingled with his friends and other partners, effortlessly becoming a part of his inner circle without him having to worry.

However, it was when you showcased your potential as "wifey material" that thing truly clicked into place.

The first time you began spending extended periods at his place, staying over for several days at a stretch, turned out to be a revelation for William. Your efforts to cook his favorite meals, aimed at impressing him, stirred a deeper desire within him.

Particularly when you mastered the art of cooking his beloved Swedish dishes like meatballs, mashed potatoes with gravy, and lingonberry jam. Initially intended to comfort him after the Leaf’s playoff exit, it ended up doing much more than that.

William couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth in his heart as he watched you move around his kitchen with ease, clad in your summery attire. Seeing you effortlessly prepare the traditional Swedish dishes he grew up with, the aroma of sizzling meatballs filling the air, and the sight of lingonberry jam perfectly complementing the mashed potatoes, stirred something profound within him.

However, it wasn't just the mouthwatering food that set his heart racing, though. It was your embrace of his culture and your genuine effort to learn about the things that mattered to him. Your sincere interest in his background and traditions made him feel valued and understood in a way he had never felt before.

And as you placed the meal in front of him, a proud smile lighting up your face, William couldn't resist pulling you into a tight hug. " Tack så mycket, älskling," he whispered, planting a tender kiss on your forehead. "This means everything to me."

Little did he know, your culinary efforts weren't just about satisfying his hunger. They were also sending his breeding instincts into overdrive, awakening a primal urge within him to claim you as his own and start a family together.

With each delicious bite, William found himself picturing a future filled with love, laughter, and the patter of little feet around their home. And as he gazed into your eyes, he knew that there was nowhere else he wanted to be than by your side, building a life together one Swedish meal at a time.

The conversation came surprisingly effortlessly to you both. William's not-so-subtle desire for you was evident, his eyes sparkling like you had never seen before.

“What?” You chuckled lightly during the meal.

“Nothing…” William grinned. “I just... you’re incredible, baby.”

“Well, thank you,” you replied modestly. “I'm glad you enjoy it.”

“Babe, I don’t just enjoy it… I love it. Like I love you. And I want to spend the rest of my life with you, maybe even... maybe even with more than just the two of us.”

And your smiles simply couldn't be contained. “You mean, having children?”

William's grin widened at your understanding, nodding eagerly. "Yeah. Can you imagine it? Our own little family, like the ones we see at team gatherings. I want that with you, more than anything."

Your heart swelled with warmth at his words, a sense of excitement bubbling within you at the prospect of beginning a family together. "I want that too, Willy," you confessed, reaching across the table to intertwine your fingers with his. "I want to create a life with you, filled with love and joy, and perhaps a few little versions of ourselves running around."

He gently squeezed your hand, his eyes brimming with affection. "Then let's make it happen, älskling.”

With that simple agreement, you solidified your future together. And only two weeks later you had an appointment with your gynecologist, discarding any form of conception, as well as preparing yourself mentally for what was about to unfold.

[twizzyburger]

Redemption

caught..

part 1!

tags!❀

Captor!König x Engineer!F/NB!Reader

In a digital cataclysm, documents erupted like an insidious storm across the vast expanse of the web, their clandestine contents laying bare the identities of thousands—soldiers, scientists, and amongst them, you were exposed to the unforgiving scrutiny of the virtual tempest.

“We got them…”

Amidst the orchestrated messiness, the room unfolded akin to an engineer's inner sanctum. Commanding the space was a substantial desk, its gleaming surface marred solely by the scattered remnants of papers strewn across both the desk and floor in a harmonious symphony of unbridled inspiration. A glass whiteboard, embellished with a maze of equations and intricate models, stood guard against one wall, bearing witness to the perpetual cerebral ballet that unfolded within. Blueprints graced the encompassing walls like revered manuscripts, revealing the chronicles of meticulously devised weaponry. Delicately crafted miniature weapon models, elegant yet potent, adorned the shelves, murmuring stories of functionality and design.

You sighed, the weight of frustration heavy in the air, as you furiously scribbled on your pad, attempting to rectify a flaw in one of the prototypes you had been diligently working on. The room echoed with the rhythmic dance of your pen against the paper, a silent symphony of dedication. Suddenly, a disruptive banging shattered the cocoon of concentration around you. Annoyed, you tossed the pad onto the desk, irritated that anyone would dare to interrupt your solitary focus. The door swung open, revealing a soldier who entered in haste, speaking at an accelerated pace, leaving you bracing for the unexpected intrusion.

“Everything!Everythingwasleaked!Wecan’tgetaholdofDr.Leon!Everythingwasleaked!Soldiers,scientists,everyone!”

You stared at the soldier in confusion, the rapid stream of words leaving you struggling to grasp the urgency in their message. Frowning, you held up a hand, a silent plea for them to slow down and articulate their message more clearly. "Take a breath and start from the beginning," you urged, a mix of irritation and genuine curiosity flickering in your eyes as you waited for the soldier to unravel the reason behind their sudden intrusion.

“They leaked everything! Dr. Leon is in another country, he can’t take deal with it and our signals have been cut off!”

Your inquiry about the leak causes your mind to race with the sudden revelation. The soldier swiftly details that all classified information, including yours, has been compromised. A surge of concern tightens your chest, prompting both of you to hurriedly head to your computer. With a flash drive from Dr. Leon, you deftly maneuver through the digital maze, inputting a protective code to shield the exposed information from prying eyes.

A sense of triumph illuminates your face as the safeguard activates, preventing unauthorized access to your sensitive data. "Dr. Leon provided this for emergencies," you share, your voice tinged with a blend of relief and gratitude. The once chaotic room now stands as a fortified defense against the digital intrusion that loomed, threatening to unveil your identity to the world.

With a nod of gratitude, the soldier acknowledges your efforts and swiftly exits the room, leaving you to reclaim the sanctuary of your workshop. As the door closes behind them, you return to your desk, picking up your notepad with a renewed focus. The urgency of the situation lingers in the air, but you find solace in the familiar dance of pen against paper as you continue to modify and refine your designs.

…A sudden bang startles you, and your eyes dart towards the door. A fleeting thought suggests it might just be routine shooting practice, but before you can dismiss it, another loud bang echoes through the air. Alarmed, you yell, uncertainty gripping your senses. The unmistakable thud of boots pounding in the hallway draws your attention, the cacophony growing louder and more chaotic. A tense realization settles in, shattering the illusion of routine, as you brace yourself for the unexpected tumult that now encircles your once-quiet workspace.

"Where are they?!" a voice with a distinct German accent echoes, a hint of urgency cutting through the air. The voice, slightly high-pitched yet carrying a rough edge, raises your concern. A series of more bangs and a thud against your door intensify the chaos. Reacting swiftly, you stand and make your way to a nearby closet in your room, seeking refuge and concealment amidst the unfolding uncertainty. The echoes of commotion linger in the air as you brace yourself for the unknown presence outside your door.

Another resounding bang reverberates through the room, and with a sickening crack, the hinges of your door surrender to the relentless force. The door bursts open, hanging precariously from the damaged frame. Panic courses through your veins, and you instinctively hold your breath, pressed against the back of the closet in fear.

As the intruder strides into the room, you catch a glimpse through the crack in the closet door. The man is tall, towering over the space with an intimidating presence. A hood shrouds his features, casting a veil over his intentions. Your limited military training pulses through your veins, a meager defense against this imposing adversary, knowing that you could not beat this mammoth of a man. The closet becomes a fragile sanctuary as you silently pray that the looming threat passes without unveiling your hiding place.

[pavedinashes-if]

Care to tell some facts about the ROs?

Of course I'd love to! I have added some facts that are tiny teasers and some more random where I decided to avoid spoilers at any cost, so it is a wild mix. Thanks for the ASK!

Your Neighbour (Police Officer):

they're fresh out of an engagement - You'll meet their ex.

they live in the same district your step-mom lives (in their Ex's flat atm)

they suffer from nightmares

they are a sucker for any Vampire franchise

Your Ex (Rich Kid):

they still have a photo collection of you

regardless of the endless fights, you shared your most memorable moments together

their parents couldn't stand you - at all

they have a thing for lucky socks

Your New Foe (Lawyer):

they come from a poor background and had to fight a lot to get where they are now

it's actually not your fault they can't stand you

they love gambling

they take care of their grandparents

Your Best Friend

Always played cupid for you

You both had your school evacuate due to fire alarm

When you got dumped at Prom, they offered a dance AND wild kiss, for everybody to see. Just friendly, right?

They have the weirdest Skittles addiction - they appear out of nowhere at any times

Your New Friend (Musician):

they believe in love at first sight, not necessarily in until death does us part

they tend to suddenly just disappear for days - without any warning

they are politically active, with consequences

they were born in the same city as you

Your Childhood Friend (Student):

they still have the little wooden lemon you stole for them in Kindergarten

you started Skateboarding together, when you were no more than 4 years old

their parents thought you'll be together forever, and that's what they wished for

their extraordinary grades allowed them to choose between many scholarships

Your Rival (Pro Skater):

Skateboarding is their plan A to Z

they seem like they have everything under control, but they don't

they are jealous of everything you are, can do and represent

they were never in love...

Your Best Friend's BF/GF (Model):

you once saved their life - they won't forget, ever

they borrow clothing they like and never return - consider it a gift to them

they always liked you...

they actually hate planes and traveling

Your Boss (Club Owner):

they know absolutely everybody in the HH night scene

they won't admit they have a soft spot for you (which will still show)

there's some rules you mustn't break nor question

they have the most amazing penthouse in all of HH

The Doctor:

they don't have any clothing nor furniture in red

they have 2 sphinx cats

they worry about the responsibility coming with the age gap between you two

they are a huge football fan (St. Pauli)

Your Supplier (Drug Dealer):

they're a huge Disney & Pixar fan

they earn some extra cash with illegal car racings

they never knew their parents

they love sneaking into the movies

NEW REVELATION: A Stranger (Executive Vice President):

they have a large luxury car collection

they prefer good, representative company over anything else

their favourite place is the bear fur in front of their supersize fireplace with some whiskey...and you

sexuality is not that important to them

[stone-cold-groove]

5 things you need before you start racing at home. Revell - 1966.

[cptn-m]

One Piece chapter 1121 review

I think there can be no doubt about it – this is the climax of Egghead and the finale of volume 110. There may technically be one last chapter to go at the start of the next volume as Emet makes his final play and Vegapunk signs off, but there’s no mistaking that the moment Oda wanted to build to is this.

First thing of note here is the title. People have been saying this since the spoilers dropped, so you’re probably not hearing it from me first, but the chapter’s title references part of Roger’s quote from the start of chapter 100. “Inherited will. A man’s dream. The tides of the eras.” Both previous parts, at least in Japanese, have also been chapter titles and the titles of the volumes containing those chapters (chapter 145/volume 16 and chapter 224/volume 24). The English releases, unfortunately, have not maintained the same consistency of wording between the original quote and their chapter/volume titles. I really don’t want to become the kind of content creator you come to for a simple review and have to skim over him pitching his side projects, so I won’t go on too long, but catching these kinds of things is exactly why I wanted to start my One Piece Rewrite Project for so long. This is such a powerful set of series-long connections to draw and a shame for English readers not to have, but also not something you can blame the older translators for because it would take more than 20 years of foresight to know how important it was meant to be.

The colour spread has a very pleasant, summery vibe to it with some really strong colour work. It’s the coldest, wettest part of winter here, so I appreciate the reminder of warmer weather. Off-hand, the idea of a giant Nami and a lot of ice cream sounds like its reusing the concept from chapter 1011’s spread, but in practice the two look and feel different. But having seen the prototype with the crew building a model Merry, yeah, I wish we’d gotten that instead. It would have been a much better fit to celebrate the anniversary as well. Can only hope Oda decides to take another shot at the idea at some point.

Finally moving onto the chapter proper, the first thing that stands out is Luffy’s choice to elevate Bonney. He’s winding up his own attack when he notices her feelings, and, even without knowing the backstory himself, encourages her to participate in the final blow. This shows both an emotional perceptiveness and a willingness to share the spotlight that might scan as uncharacteristic of Luffy. But it feels like character growth to me. We saw this behaviour develop through his relationship with Momo, and it seems to have stuck. And boy does that final punch feel good. Bonney’s bit about her loneliness and the family she wanted to have is tragic and moving. Saturn well and truly earned that hit, even if he’s almost definitely not dead yet.

But I can’t help thinking this might have had more impact if this had been the first time Bonney achieved the Nika transformation. Let it be the giants and/or Strawhats who team up with Luffy to throw Mars away and save Bonney for the battle that’s personal to her. But whatever. Maybe the mood would have been wrong to achieve a Nika transformation if Saturn was already on deck. He’s not exactly a figure who inspires joy.

It might also have been cool to see Kuma contribute, but that tiny little smile he offers after it’s done speaks volumes. His survival, combined with Bonney’s little fantasy spot of living with him and Ginny, feels like death for Bonney’s odds of joining the crew. She’s got a home to return to that she’s been missing. Her happiest ending is getting it.

Vegapunk sneaks a few final revelations into his closing remarks. Connections are drawn between the Lunarians, Buccaneers and Three-eyes as races oppressed in relation to the Void Century. The first two we knew about, but as much sense as it makes, what with the ability to read Poneglyphs, the Three-eyes are not something I’d thought about tying into that thread. It’s reiterated, also, that the World Government might have usurped the top of the Red Line from the Lunarians. I wonder if the oni/ogres will eventually fall into this category as well?

And of course, we have the kick-off of the final scramble for the One Piece. Given what’s been said, it makes sense for the Marines to finally consider prioritising it to keep a pirate or Revolutionary from claiming the power the decide the fate of the world.

I’m going all in on the last spread being the key figures of this last war. Maybe Law and Kid could struggle back as wildcards, but I think Oda’s telling us they’ve lost their shot at being major contenders. Plus, we’ve got an existing wildcard in the totally unknown silhouetted figure down there. People are maybe jumping the gun being so quick to call him Shanks-y with so little info, but I am personally a believer in the evil twin theory. What’s sticking in my mind though, is how many of the faces shown are obstinately on the same side presently. Blackbead and Kuzan; Sabo and Dragon; and Sakazuki and Koby, who themselves are subordinate to Imu and Garling. I wonder if the suggestion is that each of these figures has some kind of their own agenda and could end up at odds with any of the others. For some, the divide is obvious. Kuzan’s true loyalties have been the subject of debate for years. SWORD making a splinter group of good Marines is on every final arc bingo card. But Sabo embracing his new solo identity as the Flame Emperor and creating friction with Dragon could be an interesting twist.

So that’s it. The world has caught up to where the readers are and the race for the prize has been officially declared. Things can only get really crazy from here. I’m tempted to use the break week to reread Egghead in full, but I’d rather save it for when the island is definitively done with, Emet and all, rather than have to adjust opinions over a last few chapters like when rereading Wano during the mid-epilogue break month.

[grcetxt]

When your money makes you money What's the well-to-do, to do But buy another pony with the interest they accrue? While right across the bay they're making fortunes on the go Over there, the rich are 'riche' And the money is 'nouveau'

Oh, the nouveau riche are reaching for the sceptre of the kings And some are high above us You've got Gatsby pulling strings Faster and faster, no slowing them down Lucky boy, you got the hottest ticket in town A whole new ruling party and your neighbour wears the crown

New money Young, rich and wild, revelled, reviled You can't stop that New money Filling your pockets, spend it while you got it Heaven knows if it'll last (new money) Watch it as it goes (new money) Watch it as it go-go-goes (new, new money) Ba-da-ba-ba-ba!

In West Egg, there's no nest egg (oh-oh-oh-oh) No need to sit and brood (oh-oh-oh) On piles of cash (oh-oh) They spend their stash at shocking magnitude! (Oh-oh-oh) The kind of wealth you gotta see to believe (oh!) A level of luxury that's hard to achieve (oh!) No, I don't wanna live here but I never wanna leave Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!

New money Young, rich and wild, revelled, reviled Don't you want that new money? Filling your pockets, spend it while you got it Heaven knows if it'll last (new money) Everything top shelf (new, new money) Can only top itself (new, new, new money) Ba-da-ba-ba ba-ba-ya! New money!

High roller, comin' through! (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) Ram-bam-da-bo do-bo da-bo ow!

New money When it's scanty New money Up the ante Ooh, ooh, butter me honey Tonight, I'm on a roll (tonight, I'm on a roll)

Wolfshiem! Hey, kitten! (New money) Wanna blow on my dice? (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh) Are you kidding? I wanna throw 'em! Whoo!

New money Lucky sevens New manna From the Heavens Ooh, ooh, butter me honey Tonight, I'm on a roll

Ha-ha, who's the schoolteacher? (New manna) This is Nick Carraway I see you looking at my cuff buttons (new money) Finest specimens of human molars (new manna) (Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh)

Who was that? That's Meyer Wolfshiem He fixed the World Series You can meet anyone at these parties

So when do we find Gatsby? (Oh-oh-oh-oh) Can you point him out to me? (Oh-oh-oh) I've never even met him (oh-oh-oh-oh) The man's a mystery Every night it seems his notoriety grows I wonder if he's even at the parties he throws I think that it's dandy (oh-oh-oh-oh) That he keeps a brandy handy (oh-oh-oh-oh) But his modus operandi? (Oh!) No one really knows

Well, I heard Gatsby owns the patent For the Model T! I heard he's a spy! I heard he won this place in a horse race! I heard he killed a man! (Oof!) (Eh)

He's selling bathtub gin! He's Prussian royalty! Stock market? He's flooded! Red carpet? Star-studded! Black market? Cold-blooded! Do you wanna dance? (Woah-whoo!)

Do you believe that about Mr Gatsby? What? (The kind that washes up clean) That he killed a man! Wouldn't he be in jail? (My baby has a taste for new money) Not if he didn't get caught! (She likes her legal tender, tender and mean)

Well, what kind of-! (Do-do) Jeez! (Do-do) What kind of a person throws large parties (do-do, do-do) He doesn't attend? (Do-do) A person who likes large parties (do-do, do-do) I like large parties, they're so intimate (do-doowa!) At small parties there isn't any privacy

New money!

New money Young, rich and wild, revelled, reviled Don't you want that new money? Filling your pockets, spend it while you got it Heaven knows if it'll last (new money) Boats against the current (new, new money) Push against the tide! (New, new money) We ride, we ride, we ride We ride!

Oh-oh-oh-oh! (Revelled, reviled) (Don't you want that) Yeah! (New money) (Filling your pockets) Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh! (Spend it while you got it) (Heaven knows if it'll last)

I want that new money (oh) Crisp money (oh) Straight-from-the-mint money (oh, oh) Fresh money (oh) Young money (oh) Push against the tide (oh-oh, oh-oh-oh-oh!) Hey! We ride, we ride! (Ride, ride!)

Don't want that old money Clean money Comes-with-strings money Cold money Funny money Push against the tide We ride, we ride, we ride! (Oh!) Yeah-yeah-yeah-ah!

AGREE

[the-paintrist]

William Powell Frith - The Derby Day - 1856-58

oil on canvas, height: 140.5 cm (55.3 in); width: 264 cm (103.9 in)

Tate Britain 

The Derby Day is a large oil painting showing a panoramic view of The Derby, painted by William Powell Frith over 15 months from 1856 to 1858. It has been described by Christie's as Frith's "undisputed masterpiece" and also "arguably the definitive example of Victorian modern-life genre."

The original version is in Tate Britain in London. As with many of Frith's works, he painted a second version many years later, which is now in the Manchester Art Gallery. A much smaller but well-finished oil study was sold in 2011.

The painting measures 40 inches (100 cm) by 88 inches (220 cm) and gives a satirical view of Victorian society. It includes three main scenes, during the annual spectacle of the Derby, when large numbers of Londoners left town for the day to visit the races on Epsom Downs Racecourse, presenting a cross-section of society in a contemporary saturnalian revel. Earlier pictures of the Derby crowds were drawn by illustrators such as John Leech or Dickie Doyle.

On the left, near the private tent of the Reform Club, rich city gentlemen in top hats surround the table of a thimble-rigger who is busy cheating them out of their money. To the right, one stands with his hands in his empty pockets, and shirt gaping, having gambled away his pocketwatch, its curb chain and his shirt-studs.

William Powell Frith RA (9 January 1819 – 2 November 1909) was an English painter specialising in genre subjects and panoramic narrative works of life in the Victorian era. He was elected to the Royal Academy in 1853, presenting The Sleeping Model as his Diploma work. He has been described as the "greatest British painter of the social scene since Hogarth".

[demonicangelics-world]

Redamancy - Zestial x Angel!OC

Chapter Eight: Wine and Candy

Synopsis: In the shadowy realms of Hell and the celestial heights of Heaven, two souls grapple with the ache of unrequited love. Zestial, the formidable demon overlord, commands respect and fear. His past has forged a reputation that isolates him. Resigned to a life of power and isolation, he yearned for companionship and understanding, knowing that his intimidating demeanor made such connections seemingly impossible. Gabriela, once a radiant angel, admired the archangel Michael from afar, her heart swelling with unspoken affection for his divine strength and kindness. Casted into Hell on a mission, she now struggles to survive in a world where danger lurks at every corner, her angelic essence buried beneath a demonic exterior. Amidst the chaos of Hell and the secrets of Heaven, a profound and forbidden love ignites between them, challenging the very core of their beliefs and values.

Chapter Eight: Wine and Candy Chapter Nine: The Long Night

word count: 4,532

*********************************************************

On his way to the hidden mansion, Valentino, tense and on the verge of murder, couldn’t help but reflect on just how terrible his day had been.

Earlier in the day, Valentino was informed that Angel Dust, his muse, had decided to move out of the V tower and live at Charlie’s hotel—Lucifer’s daughter, no less. The revelation sent his meticulously maintained control spiraling into chaos. 

All day, he had been bombarding Angel with messages, demanding his return to the V tower. The messages were relentless, a digital barrage that went unanswered, fueling Valentino’s fury.

Angel’s refusal to respond pushed Valentino to the brink. 

Seething with frustration, he had unleashed his wrath on the nearest unfortunate souls. His rampage was brutal and merciless; limbs were torn from bodies, and blood splattered across the walls in a macabre display of his fury. The air was thick with the acrid stench of sulfur and burnt flesh, mingling with the metallic tang of fresh blood.

Valentino’s hands twitched with residual anger as he recalled the crumpled forms, their lifeless eyes staring blankly. 

The destruction didn’t stop there—he had also targeted Velvette’s precious models, smashing them to pieces with savage glee. The delicate creations were reduced to shattered fragments, scattered across the floor like the remains of his shattered patience.

Each wing flap towards the mansion was a reminder of the carnage he had left hours ago, a testament to the depths of his rage.

“Those worthless whores couldn’t even dodge a bullet,” he muttered to himself, the memory of their crumpled bodies doing little to soothe his anger.

Then came Vox, of all demons, attempting to calm him down. Valentino could almost laugh at the irony. Vox, with his smooth, digitalized voice and infuriatingly calm demeanor, sauntered into his room as if he owned the place. 

“Valentino,” Vox, his voice modulated to a soothing tone, “chasing whores down the street will only ruin our reputation. It will make it seem like you can’t control your own employees. Sometimes, doing nothing is the best strategy.”

Valentino bristled at the suggestion but knew better than to show it. Outwardly, he nodded, pretending to absorb Vox’s advice. “You’re right,” he said, forcing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. 

As Vox continued his condescending pep talk, Valentino’s mind raced.

A calm, manipulative rage was brewing. Valentino played along with Vox’s pacifying words, but his thoughts were already crafting a rebuttal, a way to regain the upper hand and exact his dominance.

“You know,” Valentino said, his voice dripping with feigned casualness, “Angel isn’t the only one living at Charlie’s hotel. Apparently, Alastor has moved in too. He has returned.”

He watched with satisfaction as Vox’s calm facade cracked, his digital eyes flickering with barely contained rage. The mere mention of Alastor, the Radio Demon, was enough to send Vox into a tailspin. Valentino had hit a nerve, and he knew it. 

Vox’s composure shattered like glass. His modulated voice, usually so controlled, took on an edge of anger. “What did you just say?” Vox demanded, his calm veneer completely gone.

Vox went into a frenzy. He stormed out, no doubt to make a live broadcast denouncing Alastor’s return. Valentino watched him go, a cold smile playing on his lips. Vox’s breaking news would be splashed across every screen in Hell, a public spectacle born from the chaos Valentino had subtly unleashed.

As he relished the sense of control he had regained, Velvette stormed into Valentino’s room, her eyes blazing with curiosity and annoyance.

“What’s his deal now?” she demanded, thrusting her phone at him. The screen displayed Vox’s furious broadcast.

Valentino leaned back in this sofa, his mind drifting to the intricate dynamics within the Vees. 

Velvette's rise through the overlord ranks had been nothing short of meteoric. From the moment she appeared on the scene, she had demonstrated an uncanny knack for manipulation and a keen eye for detail, qualities that had not gone unnoticed by Vox.

Vox had swiftly accepted her into the inner circle, the Vees, a move that had initially surprised Valentino. He had always viewed her as merely a pretty face with some talent for organization. Yet, Velvette had proven herself to be far more than that. She was cunning, observant, and possessed an almost preternatural ability to anticipate moves before they happened.

Despite her impressive skills, Valentino had kept his distance. He saw Velvette as a potential threat, a wildcard whose loyalty could never be fully trusted. She was Vox’s protégé, not his, and he had no intention of getting too close to someone who could easily become an adversary. His daughter, however, seemed to enjoy Velvette, a rare smile gracing her face whenever Velvette’s fashion work was involved. 

Valentino had always known Valeria had a knack for design. From a young age, her sketches and creations showed a keen eye for detail and an innate sense of style that surpassed even some of Hell's most renowned designers. 

Seeing her potential, he had initially kept her talent a secret, worried that exposing her talent would bring unwanted attention and danger.

But then, one day, he saw an opportunity to expand his influence and power. 

Velvette had been struggling with fresh ideas for her new line, and Valentino knew Valeria’s unique designs would be the spark she needed. With cunning precision, he introduced Valeria’s work to Velvette, presenting the designs as if they were from an anonymous prodigy he had a soul contract with. 

Velvette was impressed, to say the least. The collaborations between Valeria’s innovative designs and Velvette’s expertise led to stunning collections that took Hell by storm. 

Valentino has earned handsome commissions for brokering the deals. They were significant sums, one that could have been life-changing for many. But Valeria didn’t need the money; she already had everything she needed – a roof over her head, food, and, most importantly, safety. Valentino kept the all commissions for himself, using it to further solidify his position and influence as overlord.

Valeria’s talent had not only brought her joy and recognition but also reinforced Valentino’s standing. 

Yet, despite the success, he remained vigilant, always aware that in Hell, trust and security were delicate, and even the most talented could be exploited if not protected, as he himself knew best.

Valentino’s thoughts wandered to the countless meetings where Velvette had proven her intelligence. Her ability to gather and analyze information was unparalleled, and her strategies often turned the tide in their favor. 

Yet, despite her contributions, he couldn’t shake the feeling of unease she inspired in him. Her eyes, always sharp and calculating, seemed to pierce through the facades everyone else wore. She was too perceptive, too dangerous to be taken lightly.

His relationship with Vox and his daughter were the thin threads that held his tolerance for Velvette together. It was one of the few reasons he tolerated Velvette’s presence, if at all.

In the ruthless world of Hell’s overlords, alliances were fragile, and trust was a rare commodity. Velvette’s presence was a constant reminder of that reality. Velvette was a valuable asset, but he knew better than to let his guard down. In this infernal realm, trust could be a deadly mistake, and he wasn’t about to make it.

For that reason, Valeria, his daughter, remained hidden from Hell’s prying eyes. 

The reason was simple yet profound: she was his weakness, a precious innocence he couldn't afford to expose to the treachery of Hell’s debauchery and politics. 

“He’s losing his cool over Alastor,” Valentino replied nonchalantly.

They watched Alastor and Vox’s broadcast in tense silence. Valentino continued sending degrading messages to Angel, but received no response. Just as he was about to send another, all the power went out, plunging the room into darkness. Even their phones were dead.

Valentino’s first instinct was to check on Valeria at the mansion. However, Vox barged in, demanding both him and Velvette to help restore the signal. 

“I have urgent business to take care of,” Valentino told Vox in a coded language, trying to excuse himself.

Vox dismissed him with a wave. “It can wait. We need to fix this now.”

Velvette, perceptive as ever, noted the odd interaction but said nothing. Together, the three of them struggled to power on the signal. The tension was palpable, and Valentino’s mind was elsewhere, fixated on Valeria.

Before he could leave, Vox demanded a meeting to discuss preventing any deals between Alastor and Charlie. Valentino’s tension mounted. He just wanted to get the meeting over with. Vox suggested having someone on the inside, like Angel Dust, to sabotage any plans between Charlie and Alastor. This only reignited Valetino’s anger again at the mention of Angel. They eventually agreed to send Sir Pentious to sabotage the hotel, a plan Valentino couldn’t care less about.

Now, Valentino flew down and landed at the gates of the mansion. As he pushed open the iron gates, their creaking echoed in the stillness of the night, and he hurried inside, his heart pounding with a mixture of dread and urgency as the surveillance system on his phone was down during the blackout.

The events of the day had taken their toll on him, but his focus was singular now: Valeria.

Stepping into the grand foyer, Valentino’s eyes darted around the dimly lit space.

“Valeria!” he called, his voice reverberating through the empty hallways. There was no response, only the haunting echo of his own voice. A chill ran down his spine, but he reasoned that she was probably asleep.  

Quickly, he moved up the staircase, taking the steps two at a time, his eyes fixed on the door to Valeria’s room. He pushed it open, the hinges groaning in protest. 

The room was empty. The bed, neatly made, looked undisturbed. A dress in process was scattered on the floor and her phone on the nightstand. 

“Valeria!” he called again, louder this time. There was no response. Panic began to creep into his mind, gnawing at the edges of his composure. He began checking every room in the mansion, calling her name with increasing urgency. Each room he searched was empty, the silence mocking him.

As he moved through the mansion, his eyes caught sight of his office door. It was ajar, the passcode lock blinking green. He felt a jolt of dread. He always kept that door locked. With a sense of foreboding, he pushed it open and stepped inside.

To his horror, the room was in disarray. Papers were strewn across the floor, and drawers hung open, their contents spilled. His eyes were drawn to the safe hidden behind a bookshelf. The door was open.

A calm, cold rage began to build inside Valentino. 

Valentino stood amidst the chaos of his office, the destruction a stark contrast to the meticulous order he usually maintained. The sight of the broken safe, its contents scattered, made the truth crystal clear: Valeria had escaped. The realization hit him like a punch to the gut. She had used the blackout as her chance, taking advantage of the chaos to make her move.

Valentino’s mind raced, calculating the time from the blackout to his arrival at the mansion. She couldn't have gone far. His heart pounded with a mix of fear and rage, but he knew he had to remain composed. If she had truly escaped, he needed to act swiftly and discreetly to find her. 

Vox. He had nobody else to blame for the blackout but him. It had provided his daughter the perfect cover to slip away unnoticed.

Valentino’s jaw clenched as he pulled out his phone. The rage simmered beneath his calm exterior as he dialed Vox’s number. The line rang once, twice, and then Vox’s smooth, digitalized voice answered with a sultry tone.

"Valentino, darling, you just left a while ago. Are you calling to do a little business on the floor tonight, we could have done it at the tower, you know?"

Valentino’s voice was icy, controlled. "If only that were the case, Vox. We have a problem."

Vox chuckled, the sound like static crackling through the line. "Oh, do tell. You know how I love a good problem, especially during these late hours."

"The kind that involves Valeria escaping during the blackout," Valentino replied, his tone dripping with barely contained fury. "I need your help to find her. Now."

There was a pause on the other end, then Vox’s voice came through, serious and calculating. "Well, that does put a damper on our night plans. Any leads, or are we playing hide and seek in the dark?"

"She couldn’t have gone far," Valentino said, his eyes scanning the wreckage of his office. "But let's not forget, this game of hide and seek happened under your watch."

Vox's tone shifted, a hint of irritation seeping through. "Are you suggesting this is my fault?"

"All I'm saying," Valentino replied smoothly, "is that if certain emotional displays hadn’t led to power disruptions, I wouldn't be in this situation. So, it's only fitting if you help rectify it. I need you to tap into every surveillance feed in the city.”

Vox sighed, the sound modulating through his digital voice. "Fine, Valentino. Consider it done. I’ll mobilize our resources. We’ll find her."

Valentino ended the call, his mind already plotting the next steps. He would find Valeria and make sure she understood the consequences of her actions. And when he did, he would ensure she never had the chance to escape again.

*********************************************************

Zestial sat in his hidden sanctum, the eerie glow of green fire casting flickering shadows across the stone walls. The flames danced hypnotically in the hearth, a peculiar color that matched the intensity of his thoughts. Reclining in an ornate, high-backed chair, Zestial pondered the day's events with a mixture of intrigue and anticipation.

Earlier, the frantic chaos of demons and sinners scurrying about confirmed what he had suspected: Alastor, the Radio Demon, was back. Alive and well. 

It was widely believed that he had perished in an extermination, killed by an exorcist's weapon, seven years ago, as no one had seen or heard from him since. Now, there were rumors that swirled of his involvement with Charlie and her hotel, adding another layer of intrigue.

Earlier, a conjured note had appeared before him, materializing out of thin air. 

The message was an invitation from Carmilla herself, calling for a meeting of allied overlords to discuss the recent extermination. This prospect excited Zestial. 

If the rumors were true, he would confront Alastor to confirm his suspicions. He also looked forward to seeing Carmilla and her daughters, whom he hadn't seen in quite some time.

His thoughts then drifted to Celeste, the enigmatic sinner he had encountered today. 

His encounter had been entirely unplanned. Zestial had intended to stay in his sanctum, as he often did. But during his breakfast teatime, he had come across a section in the local newspaper praising a nearby establishment, Pandemonium café. The critic's glowing review piqued his curiosity, leading him to decide on an unusual outing later in the day.

Venturing out into the late evening, Zestial hoped that the café would be relatively empty, given the late hour. He had earned the privilege of a quiet evening out, or so he thought. 

Upon arriving at the café, he found the place bustling with activity, contrary to his expectations. Expectedly, the moment he stepped through the door a wave of terror swept through the patrons and workers. Screams erupted, and demons and sinners alike fled in panic, leaving a trail of overturned chairs and shattered windows in their wake.

All except for one. 

Amidst the chaos, Celeste remained standing, her calm demeanor a stark contrast to the pandemonium around her. Intrigued by her fearlessness, before Zestial could approach her, a great white shark demon descended the staircase, responding to the ruckus with a menacing presence. 

The shark's eyes scanned the room, ready to assert dominance. However, before he could react, his gaze locked onto Zestial. Recognition flashed in the shark's eyes, and his demeanor instantly shifted from aggressive to nervous.

"Lord Z-Zestial," the shark stammered, his bravado crumbling.

Zestial raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips. The shark, visibly trembling, quickly excused the ruined café before he hurriedly shoved Celeste towards him, as if offering her up as a peace offering.

Without waiting for a response, the shark turned and bolted back upstairs, leaving Zestial and Celeste alone amidst the shattered remains of the café. The room fell into an uneasy silence, the echoes of the shark's retreating footsteps fading into the distance.

Zestial chuckled softly, amused by the shark's hasty exit. He turned his attention back to Celeste, whose calm demeanor was now tainted with caution. 

His presence seems to have that effect on every soul. 

He remarked on her composure in his presence. It was unusual, to say the least. He expected fear, trembling, perhaps even pleading. But instead, she met his gaze with careful steadiness.

"Am I not supposed to?" she responded, a hint of humor in her voice. Zestial blinked, momentarily taken aback. This was not the typical reaction he elicited from sinners.

A smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly, remarking her being a rare gem.

Her confidence seemed to grow. "I suppose I just have a knack for dealing with unexpected situations."

This one was different, and that intrigued him. Observing her reaction carefully, he asked, "Tell me, Celeste, what doth keep thee anchored in such chaos? Is it courage, or perhaps a hidden agenda?" 

Her response, though calm and measured, hinted at something more. 

Zestial narrowed his eyes slightly, a spark of interest igniting in his lime-green gaze. Zestial realized that Celeste was a new sinner. He remarked how it was rare to see such composure in someone so new to Hell's chaos, where most would be overwhelmed. Celeste handled it with grace, which intrigued him further.

She shrugged. "I guess I'm just a quick learner. Adaptation is key, right?"

Her responses were carefully crafted, revealing just enough to maintain his interest without giving too much away.

"Why don't you take a seat? What can I get for you today?" she asked, clearly trying to shift the conversation.

He raised an eyebrow, noting her attempt to steer the discussion. He asked her to surprise him with a slight smile, curious to see how she would handle the situation.

Suppressing any visible sign of nervousness, she nodded and moved to prepare a drink. Zestial's eyes remained fixed on her, observing every movement. There was something captivating about her, an air that he couldn't quite place.

In a fit of entertainment, he requested her to prepare a drink for herself and that he would pay for it.

He found amusement in her reaction, sensing her internal scream. Outwardly, she maintained her composure. "Of course," she replied, adding an extra cup for herself. Once the teas were ready, she set the steaming mugs on the table and took a seat across from him.

Zestial picked up his cup and took a measured sip, watching her closely. She held her breath, clearly awaiting his reaction. 

To his satisfaction, the tea was well-made, and he set the cup down gently. He remarked on her talent, his eyes glinting with approval. He asked how she found herself in Hell.

He could see the wheels turning in her mind, her caution evident. She took a sip of her tea, buying herself a moment to think. Finally, she spoke, her voice steady but her words carefully chosen. "Well, in my mortal life, I was a nun."

Zestial's eyebrows shot up in surprise, a flicker of genuine interest crossing his face. He remarked how it explained her calm demeanor and grace.

She nodded, a bit taken aback by his unexpected reaction. "Yes, I suppose it does."

He leaned forward, his expression thoughtful. Now Zestial was intrigued, he asked what led her becoming astray. He did not expect her response.

"The truth is, I have no memory of the grave sin I committed, or even how I died," she confessed, her tone genuine.

Zestial's eyes widened imperceptibly, surprise flickering across his face. "No memory?" he echoed, his tone laced with genuine intrigue.

She shrugged slightly, "The administration was as clueless as I am. It seems my records are... incomplete."

His gaze sharpened, a hint of curiosity and a bit of confusion. Leaning back in his chair, Zestial considered her thoughtfully. He remarked how she is a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

He could see her shifting uncomfortably under his penetrating gaze. "I... suppose so," she replied cautiously. "Though, I hadn't expected a… demon as yourself to take such an interest in me."

He smiled faintly, a hint of amusement at her politeness, dancing in his eyes. He remarked how unexpectedness often holds the greatest intrigue.

However, his response seemed to cause her slight discomfort, yet she maintained her composure admirably.

Her next move was an attempt to glean information from him. "I must admit," she began tentatively, "I am rather new to all this. Vinny mentioned you're an overlord. Could you enlighten me on what that entails?"

Zestial's lips curled into a wry smile.

In truth, he didn’t mind answering Celeste’s question, but he was worried that her palpable discomfort would be amplified with information she seemed to not be familiar with, so he answered with a bit of wit to lighten the gravity of his status.

She chuckled softly, appreciating his response. "Middle management," she echoed, nodding as if pondering the concept. "Quite the responsibility, I imagine."

Zestial inclined his head gracefully. Now, he saw the chance to shift the conversation back to her and asked about her plans to recover memories. 

Her hesitation was brief, and her answer carefully measured. “Honestly, I am unsure. What I am certain of is that I must atone for my sins. Perhaps in doing so, I will reclaim the memories that have eluded me since my arrival in Hell,” she replied evenly.

Her responses were intriguing, revealing layers to her character that only deepened his interest. Her composure, her mystery, and her quest for atonement all hinted at a deeper story waiting to be unraveled. The fact that she had been a nun in her mortal life added a layer of wisdom and grace to her demeanor.

Zestial knew that religious sinners were actually quite common in Hell, often due to hypocrisy, hidden vices, or moments of faltering faith. Yet, there was something different about Celeste that he couldn't quite put his finger on. 

Her presence exuded an unusual combination of innocence and strength, a calmness that seemed out of place in the chaotic inferno. This paradox only fueled his curiosity. 

It did not go unnoticed to Zestial how beautiful Celeste was, despite the infernal taint that marked every soul in Hell. Her features were delicate yet striking.

Zestial found himself wondering how such a beautiful woman had chosen the path of a nun. What had driven her to a life of devotion and purity, and what had ultimately led her to this damned place? 

Her allure, both physical and enigmatic, captivated him. He couldn't help but imagine how breathtaking she must have been in her mortal life, unmarred by the darkness of Hell.

However, what truly captured Zestial the moment he stepped into the café was the faint scent of wine and candy. At first, given the environment of the café, he thought it was just the atmosphere—a blend of intoxicating yet sweet aromas. But as he and Celeste stepped out of the café and walked down the chaotic streets of Hell, it confirmed his suspicions: the scent came from her. That was what captivated him—her scent.

In all his years in Hell, everyone reeked of brimstone and sulfur. Demons and sinners could try to clean and wash and afford the most expensive perfumes and soaps, but the smell would always be there. 

The scent that emanated from Celeste was very faint, and it took someone like him, with his many years in hell, to pick up on the subtle difference. The scent of wine and candy, as he would describe it, was intoxicating yet sweet at the same time—almost heavenly. 

There was only one other being with that scent, and it was Lucifer himself. 

As Zestial thought of Lucifer, memories of his years of friendship with Lucifer flooded his mind. Zestial recalled countless private briefings, where the two of them discussed the intricate politics of Hell and its various power struggles. In those intimate moments, he would often catch the subtle scent of wine and candy emanating from Lucifer—a peculiar aroma that had always baffled him, though he never gave it much thought, until now.

Now, that same scent enveloped Celeste, stirring something deep within Zestial. 

His thoughts drifted back to Lucifer. In recent years, Lucifer had retreated from Hell's affairs, preferring to stay out of the constant turmoil that plagued his realm. The disappearance of Lilith had only deepened his withdrawal, leaving a void in Hell's leadership. Zestial had become Lucifer's eyes and ears, tasked with monitoring the ever-shifting dynamics of Hell and reporting back to him. Hence, keeping tabs on Alastor’s reappearance. 

As Zestial pondered Celeste and the potential implications, he felt a surge of curiosity and determination. Was this sinner somehow linked to Lucifer or was there another explanation? Whatever the case, Zestial knew that he had to unravel the mystery surrounding her. His role as Lucifer's confidant demanded it, and his own intrigue compelled him to delve deeper into the enigma that was Celeste.

Beneath his logical analysis, a subtler belief stirred within him: the notion that a divine force had brought him to her. In Hell, where chaos reigned and nothing happened by chance, Zestial couldn't shake the feeling that their encounter was more than mere coincidence. It was as if fate or some higher power had guided his steps, leading him to Celeste. 

This idea, both unsettling and thrilling, added another layer to his determination. He was not only following his duties as Lucifer's eyes and ears but also responding to an inexplicable call that resonated with his very being. Whatever the truth behind Celeste's presence, Zestial was resolute in his quest to uncover it, driven by both his loyalty to Lucifer and this newfound sense of direction.

As these thoughts churned within him, Zestial couldn't help but reflect on the famous proverb, "There is no rest for the wicked."

In his long existence, he had found this to be undeniably true. The restless pursuit of power, the endless schemes, and the ceaseless machinations of Hell ensured that peace was a rare commodity. Yet, for Zestial, this restlessness was not a burden but a driving force. It was what pushed him to uncover truths, to seek out hidden knowledge, and to unravel the mysteries that others might overlook.

In this moment, with Celeste at the heart of his curiosity, he felt the proverb's weight more acutely than ever. There would be no rest until he understood her, and he was more than willing to embrace the relentless pursuit that lay ahead.

*********************************************************

Next Chapter: The Long Night

Story Available on AO3

[heart-gamer]

Secret ( heartbeat fetish story )

In the vibrant city of Atlanta, lived a woman named Rebecca Thompson. By day, she worked as a waitress at a local cafe, but when the sun set, Rebecca delved into a secret world as a heartbeat fetish model. Driven by financial struggles and a desire for independence, she had discovered a lucrative opportunity to film videos that catered to the unique desires of the heartbeat fetish community.

Rebecca possessed a rare and captivating trait—a strong and visible heartbeat. This made her performances highly sought after and quickly earned her a devoted following within the community. However, her secret remained hidden from the world, known only to her closest confidant, her cousin Emily.

One day, Emily found herself in desperate need of money. She turned to Rebecca, seeking assistance. Recognizing an opportunity to help her cousin, Rebecca encouraged Emily to explore the world of heartbeat fetish modeling. She saw potential in Emily's own visible heartbeat, which she had noticed one night while Emily was sleeping. Rebecca believed that Emily could meet her financial ends by becoming a heartbeat fetish model just like her.

With trepidation and curiosity, Emily agreed to follow in Rebecca's footsteps, adopting the persona of Amara Heartwood. Rebecca became her mentor, guiding her through the intricacies of captivating the heartbeat fetish community with her visible pulse.

As Rebecca's reputation grew, she caught the attention of a prominent member of the community, Samuel Hayes. Samuel, known for his exclusive and unconventional desires, extended a rare invitation to Rebecca for a private session. Eager to please and further her success, Rebecca accepted the invitation, unaware of the dark fate that awaited her.

The night of the private session arrived, and Rebecca prepared for her breath-hold performance, displaying her captivating heartbeat to enthrall Samuel. But in a shocking turn of events, tragedy struck. Rebecca was brutally killed, her life extinguished in an instant.

News of Rebecca's death reverberated through the heartbeat fetish community, leaving its members shocked and grief-stricken. The loss of such a talented and beloved model with a unique visible heartbeat sent shockwaves through their tight-knit world.

Detective Nathan Rodriguez, a seasoned investigator with a reputation for solving intricate cases, was assigned to uncover the truth behind Rebecca's murder. As he delved into the twisted world of the heartbeat fetish community, he encountered a maze of secrets, desires, and dark obsessions.

As Detective Rodriguez peeled back the layers of secrecy, suspicions began to arise among the community members. The killer had left behind little evidence, displaying a cleverness that challenged the detective's skills. With each interview and clue, the investigation became a race against time to unveil the truth and bring the killer to justice.

In a stunning revelation, Detective Rodriguez discovered that the killer was none other than Rebecca's own brother, Jason Thompson. He had long harbored a dark and taboo heartbeat fetish, which had driven him to commit the unthinkable. The realization shook the community to its core, as they struggled to comprehend the depth of Jason's depravity.

With solid evidence in hand, Detective Rodriguez confronted Jason, bringing him to justice for the heinous crime he had committed against his own sister. The community, torn apart by the shocking revelation, slowly began to heal, leaning on one another for support in the aftermath of the tragedy.

Rebecca's memory served as a reminder of the dangers that lurked within their community, a cautionary tale that prompted them to prioritize safety and create a more vigilant environment. The loss of such a talented model with a visible heartbeat became a catalyst for change, as they vowed to protect one another from the darkness that could infiltrate their shared desires.

Atlanta's streets witnessed a community transformed, where trust was rebuilt, and the pursuit of their passions was accompanied by a renewed commitment to safety. Rebecca's legacy lived on, not just as a gifted heartbeat fetish model, but as a beacon of resilience, reminding them to cherish their desires while remaining vigilant against the shadows that may lie within.

[miyakuli]

South of the Circle

The very cold war

At the midst of the Cold War, young British student Peter sets off for Antarctica to study climatology, but unfortunately finds himself stranded there. As he tries to survive the cold, his thoughts take him back to snatches of his past, and question the choices he has made in his professional and love life.

❤ The staging ideas are brilliant; the parallels between past and present are ingenious, and the transitions are always fluid and coherent. We get a real sense of the character's loss of bearings due to the cold, which often makes us doubt his survival. ❤ The story is well written and fits in well with the societal changes of the time, tackling interesting historical subjects such as gender equality and the nuclear race. ❤ The game design is very pretty overall, with a contemplative, uncluttered style that is much appreciated. ❤ Very good, convincing English dubbing for all the characters.

+/- The soundtrack works well with the intimate moments but isn't memorable enough for the strong moments in my opinion. +/- After reading a number of reviews, I can see that the most divisive point concerns the illusion of choice offered by the game. I'm pretty divided myself, because yes, the dialogue choices or actions you take have absolutely no impact on the story, which makes it too directive and not really replayable. BUT this illusion of choice is in fact important given the revelation made at the end of the game...SPOILERS 1...It's an interesting move and I understand the approach, but it's not well enough developed to satisfy, especially as in the end there's only one moment where we really have the freedom to make a real choice...SPOILERS 2

✖ Lots of visual bugs, from pop-up effects on certain backgrounds to 3D models moving very strangely. (hmm is it the right way to hug x'D)

✖ The character's movements feel unpleasantly heavy, and the joystick control isn't always precise. ✖ Instead of having dialogue choices, you choose "dialogue colours" that correspond to the emotion with which the character is going to respond to the other person… but you just have no idea what's going to be said, I went more by instinct but I didn't really like this lack of precision. ✖ For what little gameplay there is, I would have liked at least more interaction with elements of the setting. (✖ A French translation that is not rigorous enough, with an alternation between "tutoiement" and "vouvoiement" in the same conversation and several typing errors.)

South of the Circle is a game I enjoyed above all for its story and clever setting, but it doesn't give players enough freedom to make it their own, given its lack of gameplay and real choices. As a result, you end up feeling a bit left out...

➡ My Steam page