#something something legacy something something

[duusheen]

Time to go home. Pandora would have stayed longer, but Ash had to go back, and she needed to return to work too. For the first time, she felt comfortable with her family, like she truly belonged 💕

[jayvikstolemyheart]

*hits this post with the jayvik beam*

If Jayce died and was resurrected by the Hexcore I could totally see him going through this experience.

A big part of Jayce’s character is how his privilege and naïveté blind him even with his good intentions and genuinely caring nature. Yeah he had that near-death experience when he was a child but I think that trauma was overshadowed by being saved by a cool, mysterious mage.

Now cut to Viktor, in a moment of desperation, revoking his own promise and merging Jayce with the Hexcore.

Jayce now has to face the fact that he died, that all his accomplishments ultimate led to nothing, his “legacy” sparking a war. He had plans to quit the council and return to lab, but can he really do that now? Jayce’s body has been irreversibly changed by something Viktor wanted destroyed. Even though it was Viktor’s best chance to save him.

And that’s the thing isn’t it? Viktor might not even last the year. Jayce, mentally shaken, wants to hold onto his partner as the only source of stability. But Viktor’s time is limited. What’s Jayce going to do without him?

Jayce was always overconfident. He never thought about his own death, or seriously cos orders Viktor’s. He was devastated to hear the diagnosis of course. But the moment the shock wore off Jayce was already thinking of potential solutions. Jayce had refused to accept the fact that he might fail; that Viktor’s life was already forfeit.

Jayce is scared. A shell of his former self. And neither he nor Viktor know how to fix any of it.

"came back wrong" what about Came Back Afraid. You used to be brave. Too brave maybe, defying the odds at every turn, a fighter, cocky, playing with fire, first to throw yourself at the enemy. Until one day it all caught up to you. You came back, somehow, but now you know all too intimately how it feels to lose, to die, to be destroyed. Now you flinch and freeze and cower at the slightest provocation. Who even are you now if you can't be brave? The grave may have let you go, but the mortal fear still grips you tighter than ever.

[persevereforahappyending]

A Legacies Regret |11|

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader

Summary: You were living in New York with your girlfriend, trying to forget about last year and just enjoy life, but that was easier said than done. (Sequel to A Legacies Secret)

Warnings: Canon Typical Violence, Attempted Murder, Stabbing, Shooting, Violence

Word Count: 3.6k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | A Legacies Secret Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11

You rode all the way to Gale’s place in silence. You felt Gale constantly glancing at you out of the side of her eye, but you refused to acknowledge it, you just kept your eyes focused straight ahead. When you finally reached Gales’ place you couldn’t help the way your mouth hung open. You knew Gale lived on the upper west side, but it seemed you didn’t realize how well off she truly was.

You couldn’t help but press your head against the window, trying to look up at the building. You furrowed your brow as Gale pulled down into a garage under the complex. Your eyes widened, it was a struggle finding parking in New York and yet Gale had an entire parking garage under her building. You didn’t even have a car anymore, you and the others walked everywhere and where you couldn’t walk you rode the subway.

You followed Gale out of the car, clearing your throat to try and hide just how impressed you were. The two of you entered the elevator, Gale swiped a card then hit the button for a floor near the top. Your eyes widened; she wasn’t at the very top of the complex, but she was pretty close.

Some soft music played in the elevator to fill what would have usually been an awkward silence. The elevator dinged as you arrived at the floor in no time. You stepped out into a small hallway that had less than a handful of doors in it. You had your hands shoved in your pockets as Gale step up to one of the doors and pulled out her keys. You glanced around as she unlocked the door, if there was less than five condos on each floor that meant the space had to be rather large.

“Make yourself at home,” Gale said, holding the door open for you.

Your mouth once again fell open as you stepped into Gale’s condo. It was an open floor plan with the door opening up right into the living room. From where you stood in the doorway you could see the kitchen, a long hallway that probably led to the bedrooms, and a balcony that stretched the length of the kitchen and the living room.

“Damn,” you couldn’t help but whisper.

You could barely afford the one-bedroom crappy apartment you had in Woodsboro to begin with. New York was another monster all together, you made more money bartending than you ever did back home, but rent was also more than triple what you paid. The only reason you were able to afford the current place was because you, Sam, and the money Bailey paid for Quinn’s share helped divide things up. You weren’t sure what would happen now, a Ghostface attack happened, meaning the apartment was no longer safe, meaning Sam would want to move again. Quinn was also murdered in said apartment, which definitely didn’t help, and a roommate, along with you, Tara, and Sam was the only way you could afford the place.

“Didn’t know a reporter’s salary could get you all this,” you mumbled to yourself.

“Helps when you’ve written several bestselling books,” Gale said.

You couldn’t help but scoff. Those books she wrote, though based on real events, tended to paint everyone in a bad light, except for herself of course. Sam got the worst of it but even Sidney was never portrayed the best.

“Profiting off others pain,” you commented. “Definitely something to strive for.”

Gale let out a sigh and when you turned around, she at least had the decency to look at least a little be ashamed. “I know you weren’t a fan of my interpretation from last year’s events,” Gale said calmly, like she was trying to choose her words carefully.

“It was a bunch of bullshit,” you snapped. “What you said about me, about Sam,” you started gesturing with your hands. You and Sam might not have been friends and only really tolerated each other because of Tara but she didn’t deserve all the crap Gale said about her. “The only one portrayed decently was…” your words quickly died, and you had to look away. You quickly tried to blink away the tears.

“You weren’t portrayed bad by any means.”

“No!” You snapped, the anger coming back to you in full force. “You just used me as a prop to make you look better.” Gale physically flinched at your words. “Abandoning your daughter to keep her away from the horrors of Ghostface,” you mocked. “How honorable.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Gale whispered.

“Well, at least our fictional relationship is better than our real life one,” you shrugged. “We really get to bond and reconnect.” You saw the tears in Gale’s eyes, but you didn’t even so much as begin to back down. “To bad in real life our relationship is nonexistent.”

You turned away, no longer able, or wanting to, look at her. You were the reason the two of you didn’t have a relationship. A part of you wished things could be different, you didn’t regret your decision though, maybe if Gale was different, if she had proven she could be different. In her book she made it seem like she did you a favor, giving you up. She went on about how you reunited, how the two of you grieved Dewey and despite how hard it was you found yourself able to forgive Gale for what she did. The thing about fiction though, it had a habit of being better than real life.

“I know,” Gale whispered. “When I got to writing I…” you glanced back to see her shaking her head as she tried to figure out what she wanted to say. “I got carried away; I started fantasizing about how I wish we could be. Meeting for lunch regularly, getting to know you,” she began to list off. “Being a part of your life.”

“Well, none of that is true,” you snapped.

“No,” Gale whispered sadly. “I’ve tried to respect your decision, in wanting nothing to do with me.” You were thankful she couldn’t see your face as a lone tear escaped your eye. “And I apologize for any pain my writing might have caused you.”

“Whatever,” you shook your head, your voice hardening. “I didn’t come here for apologies, I meant what I said,” you turned to face Gale again. “There’s safety in numbers. So, let’s just keep this simple.”

Gale’s eyes fell to the floor, but she didn’t argue, she just nodded her head. “Make yourself at home,” she said again, gesturing to the living room.

You opted to sit on the couch, stretching out your leg just enough to give your knee some relief. You checked your phone, making sure Tara hadn’t messaged you. The last text you got from her was her replying to you telling her to be careful. Nothing good ever came from you and Tara separating but you couldn’t just let Gale go off on her own.

Gale grabbed her laptop and set up next to you on the couch, though she made sure to leave plenty of room between the two of you. You glanced at her out of the side of your eye when you heard her mumbling to herself, it sounded like she was complaining about Kirby. You glanced at her laptop screen and saw she was still researching Jason and Greg, she was still investigating, trying to figure out who this new Ghostface could be.

“Jason and Greg weren’t involved,” Gale mumbled. “They were just in the way.”

“Meaning whoever this asshole is,” you said. “Doesn’t just want us dead, they want to be the one to do it.” Gale looked at you, you could see her clench her jaw before she nodded.

If this Ghostface just wanted, you guys dead they could have just hung back and let Jason and Greg try to fulfill their plan. You doubted it would work, you didn’t think the boys would have taken down any of you. That wasn’t the point though, Jason and Greg weren’t a real threat, they were just in the way of what the real Ghostface was planning.

“I’m hungry,” Gale said. “Are you hungry?” she was already getting up as she looked at you. “I have takeout menus in the kitchen.” Before you could even open your mouth, Gale was already walking away.

You watched Gale disappear into the kitchen and grabbed your phone when you felt it vibrate. You furrowed your brow at Tara’s name popping up. “Hey,” you answered, a slight frown on your face. It was a little early for them to already be done, that was unless something went wrong. “What happened?”

“Ghostface is there!” Tara shouted.

“Wait, what?” You sat up straighter. “What are you talking about?” You were already moving, intending to find Gale. “What…” your words died in your mouth as you turned around, Gale was standing there, phone to her ear and tears in her eyes.

Gale’s eyes widening was your only queue. You turned around, raising your arm just as Ghostface brought his knife down. You kept him at bay, but he used his other arm, pushing the knife closer to you. In the process of trying not to get stabbed you dropped your phone, you just hoped Tara wasn’t freaking out too much.

“Hey!” Gale shouted right before smashing her phone into the side of Ghostface’s head.

Gale yanked you to the side when Ghostface stumbled away. You didn’t know the layout of the penthouse, so you were really relying on Gale. She dragged you to the kitchen, rounding the enormous kitchen island. Ghostface recovered and now stood on the opposite side of the island.

You were at a standstill, the only potential place to go was out onto the balcony. Ghostface could easily block your path to the front door, as soon as you went one way he’d know where to move. The only options were to wait for Ghostface to get impatient and move first or to split up. If you went one direction and Gale went the other Ghostface would have to choose who to go after. You weren’t willing to take that risk, the odds were never in your favor it seemed when pertaining to Ghostface.

Ghostface rocked back and forth, their patients clearly waning, though they didn’t seem anxious about it. Finally, Ghostface moved, opting to take the side that would block the front door. You spun around, giving Gale a gentle shove as the two of you made your way to the balcony.

Gale flung open the door, not hesitating to rush out into the cold. You were right behind her, but Ghostface was right behind you. He jumped on your back, slamming you into the doorframe before you could actually get outside. You yelled out in pain as you felt the knife pierce your shoulder, just barely missing your neck.

The two of you tumbled out the door together. Ghostface was still on top of you, straddling your waist as you managed to turn around. Your hands shot up, catching Ghostface’s hands just as he brought down his knife. You gritted your teeth, trying to hold him back as best as you could but he had the advantage.

You couldn’t help but notice how familiar this position was, the first time you were ever attacked pretty much the same thing happened. You had been alone in your apartment when Ghostface attacked, managing to get the jump on you. You had turned the tables on them in the kitchen, and you had been the one pushing the knife towards Ghostface’s chest though.

Another key difference from last year was that you weren’t alone. You were reminded of that when Gale seemingly came out of nowhere smashing a potted plant over Ghostface’s head. As soon as you felt his grip loosen, you shoved him to the side, instantly finding Gale’s hand as she yanked you to your feet.

The two of you rushed to the other door. If you could just make it there, then you could lock Ghostface out. On the balcony he’d have nowhere to go, he’d be trapped for once. Just as you were about to run through the door someone grabbed you by the collar of the shirt and yanked you back. You were pretty sure you heard Gale call out your name, but you were too busy catching yourself on the railing of the balcony.

You groaned when your back hit the railing, you looked up to see Ghostface slamming the door closed in Gale’s face. You didn’t even have time to push yourself off the railing before Ghostface was on you again. They leaned all their body weight on you, forcing you to lean over the railing as much as possible. You held them by their wrists, trying to keep the knife away from your eye.

You glanced back, your eyes widening at the city below you. You weren’t sure which would be worse, falling to your death or Ghostface gutting you. Your breath caught in your throat as the knife came down, inching closer while you were distracted. You did your best to wiggle your body to the side, using enough leverage to get Ghostface stumbling forward.

The two of you went back and forth fighting over the knife. Ghostface kept trying to stab you and you did everything to keep that from happening. You weren’t sure when the two of you started moving, you were so busy focused on trying not to go over the balcony that you weren’t ready when the two of you crashed through the door.

You rolled over with a groan, glass crunching beneath you. Gale didn’t waste time asking if you were okay before she yanked you up and began dragging you down a hall. You furrowed your brow, it seemed going out the front door would be the better play but when you looked back you saw Ghostface already on their feet, though a bit disoriented.

Gale dragged you into a room, quickly pushing you to the back and slamming the door closed just as Ghostface got to it. She clicked the lock and ran to her closet. It wasn’t the time, but you couldn’t help the way your eyebrows raised at the closet, it was more than half the length of the room. You and Tara were supposed to share a closet, which was still mainly filled with Tara’s stuff, while yours was all in the dresser, which Tara also took over half of.

“Are you okay?” Gale asked. She looked over from what she was doing but quickly dropped her attention back to trying to open a silver case. “Fuck!” She smacked the case when the lights lit up red, rejecting whatever code she punched in.

“Are you okay?” she asked again.

“I’m fine,” you said.

Gale punched in the code again and finally the lights lit up blue. She grabbed the gun and was already aiming it at the door even though it sounded like Ghostface stopped slamming his body into it. Gale didn’t wait though, she fired a few rounds into the door, if Ghostface was still on the other side he surely would have been hit. Your entire body went rigid when a phone ringing shattered the already uneasy silence.

Gale picked up the phone and by her irritated tone you knew it was Ghostface trying to mess with her again. She walked closer to the door, firing two more rounds into the door. You moved to follow her but let out a hiss as you winced. You looked down to see spots of blood staining your shirt. You flicked your eyes to Gale; her attention was fully on the door and talking to Ghostface. You gritted your teeth as you gently lifted your shirt, getting a good look for the first time at the bit of glass stuck in your side.

You rolled your shirt back down as gently as possible, then powered through the pain as you came up behind Gale. She flung open the bedroom door, her gun steady in her hands as she held it out, moving and checking every potential place Ghostface could be hiding before passing it. You made sure to stay close, you had nothing to defend yourself with and you were sick of Ghostface catching you off guard.

“Hold please,” Gale said. You furrowed your brow and watched as she clicked a few buttons on the phone and redialed the number Ghostface had used to call her.

The two of you whipped around when ringing started coming from the closet you had just passed. Gale set the phone down, allowing the ringing to just continue as she gently nudged you back and stepped in front of you. She fired a couple rounds into the hall closet and the two of you heard a thud.

Gale inched forward, still making sure to keep the gun raised. Just because you both heard what sounded like a body falling to the ground didn’t mean Ghostface was actually down. Ghostface had faked being down plenty of times, he could have also stashed some random person in there to use them as bait. You didn’t think that last one was likely, but it definitely wasn’t insane to think about.

Ghostface launched out of the closet before Gale could react, knocking the gun out of her hand and shoving his knife into her shoulder. He pushed her back until she hit the stone column in her living room. He gripped her by the hair and began slamming her head against the stone. You didn’t think as you charged forward, tackling him off her like as if you were a football player.

The two of you rolled around on the floor, both of you fighting for control of the knife. Ghostface reached up and clawed at the stab wound on your shoulder. Pain seemed to radiate through your entire body, forcing you to instantly release Ghostface. Ghostface tackled you, your head smacking back against the hard floor. Ghostface seemed to like bashing someone’s head because he gripped you by the hair and slammed your head into the floor until you were seeing spots.

You were sure you had a concussion, again. When the image above you began to clear you were left frozen as Ghostface hovered above you, holding his knife high. You wanted to move, you kept telling your body to move, to roll out of the way, to fight back, to do something, but you just lay there. Ghostface brought his knife down but before it could get to you Gale tackled him off you, sending the two of them crashing into the glass coffee table.

You rolled onto your stomach; through blurry vision you could see Gale get up first. You couldn’t help but let out a relieved breath. She approached Ghostface, stepping on his wrist before yanking the knife out of his hand. She turned the knife in her hand before kneeling down next to Ghostface.

“Wait,” you gasped.

You reached out with your hand, as if you had any of hope of reaching Gale. Before Gale could bring the knife down, finally ending Ghostface, his hand shot up, impaling her in the side with a shard of glass. Gale collapsed, managing to drop the knife as both her hands went to her side. Ghostface rolled over as if none of what had happened had phased him.

“Don’t take it personally,” Ghostface said, taking the knife back. “A legacy character was never going to make it out of this.” He stood above Gale as she continued to gasp for breath.

You managed to use your forearms to push yourself up and began crawling towards them. You didn’t know what you were going to do, you stood no chance against Ghostface, you were probably only going to just get yourself killed quicker. Ghostface looked over at you, tilting his head before giving it a shake in disappointment.

“Look on the bright side,” Ghostface said. “At least you don’t have to see your child die.” He looked back at you as you continued to crawl towards them. “But they do get to see me gut you in their last moments,” he chuckled, his laugh sounding more sinister through the voice changer.

Ghostface brought up his knife, finally ready to end things once in for all. You heard someone shout, Ghostface looked up from Gale and dove away as whoever yelled came running into the room. The person grabbed the forgotten about gun on the floor and instantly began firing as Ghostface ran through the penthouse.

“Oh my god,” someone said, dropping down next to you.

You blinked several times and could finally make out Tara’s face in front of you. You let out a relieved breath that turned more into a sob. “I’m fine,” you tried, Gale was in worse shape than you, she should be the priority.

“Shut up,” Tara snapped, but she cradled your head as gently as possible and helped ease you back until you were laying on the ground again. “Just, stay awake,” she ran her hands through your hair.

Your eyes drifted past Tara to Gale. Sam was on her knees, trying to stop the bleeding. “G-Gale,” you rasped out. You even attempted to reach out with your hand again.

“Focus on me,” Tara guided your chin until you were staring up at her again. “Just focus on me.” You weren’t sure if it was your concussion or what, it was hard to tell, everything was still slightly fuzzy, but it looked like Tara had been crying.

You did as Tara asked, you stayed still and focused on only her. Even as the medics came in, you focused only on Tara. Even as you saw them loading Gale onto the backboard out of your peripheral you only focused on Tara. You never lost consciousness as the medics checked you out, you figured that was a good sign.

Taglist: @mamas-evil-hag @thatshyboy1998 @btay3115 @idontliketoread2137 @nwestra

@honorarysimp @canyonyodeler @chxrryxcx @aceofspades190 @worstendingever

@riyaexee @gayandfairycore

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Could you perhaps continue your "favorite places to fuck" series but with Telemachus? 👉👈 he's invaded my mind so bad

A/n: hehe...I'll be happy too 👏

(A Private Glimpse Into the Heart of a Young King Deeply in Love)

Telemachus, son of Odysseus and Penelope, had not grown up expecting softness.

He was born into a world of war stories, duty, legacies, and shadows he wasn’t sure he could ever fill.

But then you came into his life—his wife, his equal, his peace.

And suddenly, all that weight he carried began to shift.Because in your arms, he wasn’t just the son of a legend.

He was just Telemachus. Yours.

And he never took a single moment of that for granted.

1. The Secluded Garden Behind the Palace

It was your favorite place first; tucked behind the stone walls, wrapped in vines and wildflowers, a small fountain singing in the corner.

Telemachus never cared for gardens until he found you lying barefoot in the grass, laughing at something he said.

Now, it’s where he pulls you into his lap, kissing your neck slowly, the scent of jasmine curling through the air as he lays you back into the earth.

There’s something sacred about the way your hands tangle in his hair, the way his name leaves your lips like a prayer.

He never rushes here. No Here, he worships.

2. The War Room (When It’s Just You and Him)

It’s bold. Reckless. Forbidden.

Which is exactly why it thrills you both.

Maps and scrolls lie forgotten on the table, replaced by the heat of his mouth against yours, the way his hands slide beneath your robes like he knows every inch of you by heart.

He loves pressing you against the table, the carved marble cold beneath your back, your fingers clutching the edges as he kisses down your chest with a hunger that leaves you breathless.

“Do you have any idea what you do to me?” he growls, voice thick with want.

You do.

And he proves it. Every time. Because he can never say no to you.

3. The Royal Bath — Steam, Silence, and Skin

This is where Telemachus softens completely.

The steam clings to his skin, and so do you, curled in his lap in the warm water, your thighs wrapped around his waist.

He bathes you like you’re made of gold—his fingers slow and reverent, trailing down your back, across your stomach, between your legs.

He kisses your shoulder before he ever kisses your lips.And when he finally moves inside you, it’s slow and deep, his forehead pressed to yours, the water rippling softly around you both.

Here, you are not king and queen.

You are simply Telemachus and the woman he would give the world for.

4. His Childhood Room — Where He Lets His Guard Down

Few are allowed here. Only you.

It’s smaller, quieter, untouched by his titles.

He lays you on his old bed, the sheets still smelling faintly of sea salt and summer.Here, he doesn’t have to be strong.Here, he clutches you tighter, his voice softer, whispering things he doesn’t say anywhere else:

“I dreamed of you before I knew your name.”

“You make me feel real.”

“You’re the only thing that makes me feel whole.”

And when he takes you in this room, it’s with everything he is—boy, man, king, lover.

5. Anywhere You Say His Name Like That

You could be in the stables.

In the shadows of the palace halls.

Beneath the stars with a blanket wrapped around your bodies.

If you say his name—soft, breathless, wanting—

He will find you.

And he will take his time.

Because he doesn’t just want to have you.

He wants you to feel how much he needs you.

Every inch of you.

Every sound you make.

Every moment your eyes flutter closed because of what he’s doing to you.

Telemachus never thought he’d be greedy.

But for you?

He always is.

And Later…

You often find him just watching you after you two make love, your chest still heaving, arms tight around you, lips brushing your shoulder.

“You’re my peace,” he’ll whisper.

Then smile, pressing a kiss to your temple:

“And my undoing.”

And you’ll smile back.

Because you know.

You’re his wife.

And he will always be yours.

[mdshh]

A protect together? 👀

Teacher: Alright, class. Today you’ll be given new project. For this I’ll divide you in groups of two people. Everyone is going to get a partner.

Teacher: This is an important project and 60% of your final grade depends on this.

Teacher: Does anyone have any questions?

Someone: Can we choose partner?

Teacher: You can’t. I chose pairs myself, so you can communicate with different people. Alright, there was a list somewhere… Here it is. The pairs are: George Collins and Elina Johns, Tiffany Stars and Elijah Thompson, Jeremy Ellis and Pearl Forks… *continues naming pairs*.

[themaresnest-dumblr]

Yes, unfortunately places like Pluckley attract utter bumnuggets like this nowdays thanks to the internet and everyone either wanting their fifteen seconds of game, or being willing to scrap any old barrel for attention. We live sadly in a shameless age. Pluckley is one of England's nicest villages, the setting of H E Bates' Larkin family sagas (although he never lived there), and the matter of its plethora of ghosts was always regarded as little more than a shrugged shoulder coincidence (Prestbury in equally sleepy Gloucestershire has much the same supernatural issues ...). Then this book came along:

Carey Miller's 'Mysteries Of The Unknown' hardback probably did more than any other to kickstart interest in ghosts again in a new generation of youngsters - which by the 1970s were regarded as very passé thanks to everything from Scooby Doo to the Amityville fiasco (all faked, and brilliantly lampooned by Hammer Horror's 'The House That Bled To Death'). Carey also did booklets for the British Museum, but this remains her lasting legacy (granted, the ghosts section was more Christopher Maynard's work). It included a two page spread on Pluckley, and its ghosts. As an advert for a future generation of paranormal enthusiasts, it was never bettered. It also brought a whole new generation back to familiarity with this up until then largely forgotten British cultural icon:

Black Shuck, the original and the very best Black Dog - a particularly British Isles type of ghost of a large generally itinerant hound roaming over a set area handing out generous amounts of whoop ass ...) who inspired The Hound Of The Baskervilles and whose 'brother', Padfoot, had his name ripped off by J K Rowling. If you are wondering why he had just one eye, the answer is simple - he's the giant war hound of the Norse supreme god Odin, who of course sacrificed one of his eyes in return for drinking from the well of All Wisdom.

Now, of course, Norse Gods sometimes would turn themselves into human beings or creatures in order to interact with the world more directly. Was Black Shuck really a Norse God rather than a ghost? Who knows? But his rather famous smashing up of St Mary's Church in Bungay and the nearby medieval cathedral of the Fens in Blythburgh in the 16th century showed he didn't like Christianity very much, which considering the intolerant manner the Norse gods and belief systems were treated by the Christian church was perhaps understandable.

And it certainly made our day this week when Norfolk's very own ASBO woof woof got the ultimate accolade of a Royal Mail stamp.

Certainly makes up for that stupid song by The Darkness about him ... long overdue that Norfolk's own Let's Eat Grandma did something about his nibs, who will be haunting those Norfolk bays long after they and the rest of us have gone as he's done for the last thousand years ...

[torchlitinthedesert]

There’s something very strange about Paul’s usual “how John and I started writing” narrative. Here’s how he likes to describe it:

Me and John knowing each other, the fact that both of us independently had already started to write little songs... I said to him, “What’s your hobby?” I said, “I like songwriting,” and he said, “Oh, so do I.” You know, no one I’d ever met had ever said that as a reply. And we said, “Well, why don’t you play me yours and I’ll play you mine.” GQ, 2020

It’s my impression that this is now in the rotation of Paul Stories - I think he says it in McCartney 3,2,1, and in other interviews. Is it true? The earliest accounts contradict it:

“Paul’s first public performance, as a member of the Quarrymen, was at a dance… later on, after the dance, he played a couple of tunes to John he had written himself. Since he’d started playing the guitar, he had tried to make up a few of his own little tunes. The first tune he played to John that evening was called ‘I Lost My Little Girl’. Not to be outdone, John immediately started making up his own tunes.”

Hunter Davies, The Beatles, 1968

“‘I learned a lot from Paul. He taught me quite a lot of guitar really. He knew more about how to play than I did and he showed me a lot of chords. I’d been playing the guitar like a banjo so I had to learn it again. I didn’t write much material early on, less than Paul, because he was quite competent on guitar. I started to write after Paul did a song he’d written.’”

John Lennon to Ray Connolly, unpublished interview, 1970*

"He used to write songs before I even started writing songs."

John Lennon, St Regis interview, 1971

*[The Connolly quote is weaker as a source, because was published after John’s death (and he quotes it slightly differently: “I started to write after Paul did a song he’d written” is in Connolly’s John biography, but not in the version in his collected Beatle journalism). But it fits with the other accounts.]

Still, Paul’s version might have some truth in it. Mark Lewisohn cites a couple of 1971 interviews where John remembers trying to write a calypso song, tapping into a brief craze of spring 1957. I don’t know if he finished it, or told anyone about it. None of the Quarrymen mention it, while Pete Shotton told Bob Spitz that John was “floored” when Paul first played him one of his own songs. But the calypso story does make “so do I” seem more possible.

It’s still surprising that Paul wants to frame it this way. He’d be justified in pointing out that songwriting was his innovation, something he brought to the band. By any measure, he’s the one who started it: when he met John, he’d already written the melody of When I'm 64, plus Suicide and I Lost My Little Girl. And he was always prolific. As John told David Sheff, talking about I’ll Follow The Sun, “he had a lot of stuff”, “written almost before the Beatles, I think.” He was the one pushing to do their own material, whether that’s talking it up to music promoters or suggesting In Spite of All The Danger at their first amateur recording session. (To me, that suggests that Lennon-McCartney was established later than they tended to admit. In Spite of All The Danger, recorded in 1958, has George as cowriter; if Paul had written anything with John, I bet that's what he'd have suggested they record. And if John on his own had written something that was ready to record, they’d definitely have picked that. )

In the 1950s, writing your own material was groundbreaking: it’s part of the huge cultural shift into the 1960s. There were hundreds of skiffle/rock’n’roll bands in Liverpool, but it’s genuinely possible that Paul was the only songwriter among them. Why isn’t that the story he wants to tell?

When Paul started defending his legacy in the late 1980s, he was fighting against specific distortions. First, that he was the middle-of-the-road conservative one - which is why he lays out his avant garde credentials. So you’d think he’d want to remind everybody that he wrote songs first. But second, he’s up against the idea that he and John didn’t love each other, that they didn’t write together, that Lennon-McCartney was a myth. Paul is a rock star, with an ego to match; he’s not given to downplaying himself. But he wants the partnership more than he wants precedence, even more than he wants credit for innovation.

And he always did. Remember the story about John sharing half his chocolate bar? Paul joined the band, and shared half his songs.

He didn’t need to: he was already writing alone. If he wanted help, George was more musically accomplished, and would have been a more logical choice for a songwriting partner. But it's John whose attention and praise Paul needed, John who had the authority to say they’d play Paul’s songs, John who needed to feel like the most important person in the band. Becoming Lennon-McCartney formalises all of that. And Paul is still true to it.

Across decades, Paul has been consistent about promoting their partnership as a partnership, regardless of who did what. (This isn’t true of John, who by the late 1960s was eager to break down who wrote which song, which lyric, which middle eight.) After working with George Martin on the string arrangement for Yesterday, Paul signed the score: “"Yesterday" by Paul McCartney John Lennon George Martin Esq and Mozart.” Even as a joke, you don’t separate Lennon and McCartney. Ken Mansfield asked Paul why songs were “Lennon-McCartney” when John hadn’t been there for the writing process:

And Paul said: “John and I are so close to each other, we’ve been through so much together, we understand each other so much, our relationship is so deep, that when we’re songwriting,” he said, “even if I’m 6,000 miles away, I can be working on something and I can hear John over my shoulder going, ‘No, no, no, that’s not gonna work; why don’t we do this?’ Or ‘Hey, I like this.’” He said, “So, in essence, to me, we’re songwriting together even if we’re not together.”

Ken was asking about Ob-La-Di Ob-La-Da, not realising that John was there for that one: they worked on it in India. But rather than giving a practical answer, Paul chooses to frame the partnership as a profound connection. (Of course there are other times Paul insists on or overstates his contribution, or gets petty about who did what. He’s human, and he’s an egomaniac. But always, always within the framework that this was a partnership.)

Fundamentally, he’s loyal to Lennon-McCartney. “So do I” matters more to him than going first. It might not be literally true, but it's the emotional truth that he needs.

[redux-iterum]

At the beginning of the book, I assumed “Charred Legacy” referred to Tigerclaw, and I still think that’s true, but I think it refers to Bluestar as well, given how prominent her decline was this book. Which is really sad, considering how important her leadership, legacy, and service to the Clan were to her. She gave up so much to be leader, to get to where she was, and to lose it all like that…I really hope she can rest in StarClan

You hit the nail on the head there, bud! That's exactly what I was thinking of when I titled the book Charred Legacy.

The Tigerclaw interpretation is interesting though, not something intended, but I can see it.

[miss-antisocial-reader]

I feel like most people won't agree with this but it's my option so deal with it. I don't think any of the pjo characters would name their kids after friends who died.

The first reason being that it would probably bring them a lot of pain. I mean just imagine, every time you look at your child, you think of the friend you failed, who if you tried harder they could still be here. Every happy moment, every good time is tinted with the memory of their death.

Secondly, how would the kid feel if they found out who they were named after? Maybe they would feel proud to carry on their legacy, or maybe pressured to do so. Pressured to live up to that person, feel like they have something to prove. Maybe prove that they are their own person, that they have their own options and ideas.

It might also offend other people, like Percy naming his daughter after Bianca, Nico might be against it as he thinks/thought that Percy is the reason Bianca died.

Anyway, sorry if I offended anyone, it just my opinion.

[lu-is-not-ok]

Doesn't Two in One kind of really just reiterate on themes that are present with Don Quixote/Sancho? I feel like any idea of that theory has to coincide with the fact that Sancho herself has a ton of duality themes and imagery and that with the amount of family motifs repeating it feels like it would be a little clunky to have them having similar character arcs along those lines.

Well, first of all, let's get one thing straight: I didn't just randomly come up with duality motifs for Hong Lu.

They are, already, very much there in the game itself when it comes to Hong Lu's E.G.O. corrosions and other places. That's not something I just randomly came up with, it's all already there. All I'm doing is pointing at and trying to explain why it might be there. Even if this theory didn't exist, the motifs and imagery wouldn't just disappear.

That's something you'd have to bring up with PM themselves, not with me. //silly

As for the similarity in character arcs you bring up... there are two ways I could respond to that. Both which I think are important to mention.

The first is that, well, Don Quixote and Hong Lu are already set up as being major parallels to each other. There are already many other little motifs and details that the two overlap in.

Donqui and Hong Lu are two out of the three Sinners to wear nameplates rather than ID cards on their uniforms. They're two out of the three Sinners to have something strange going on with their eyes. They're the only two Sinners whose base E.G.O animations have them enter the frame from off-screen rather than start off already standing there. They're both compared to actors in one way or another. And most importantly, the 'Oblivion' mentioned in Don Quixote's Sinner color is directly compared to naivete in the story itself, meaning it's effectively a synonym to the epithet of Hong Lu's Sinner color - 'Naive'.

The fact that Donqui's Canto was for a good chunk of it effectively a prologue to Hong Lu's Canto isn't just some random coincidence - it's meant to highlight that the two are similar in a way that isn't immediately obvious.

Their arcs being similar is already set up to be kind of the point.

The second thing is that you seem to think that the degree of "similarity" you expect this theory to lead to would make the two arcs downright identical, when... in all honesty I don't think that'd be the case.

Sure, if you look at the two from the bare bones surface, you could Maybe make the argument that they'd be 'too similar' - someone who is stripped of their humanity and is part of a family that defines their life recognizes a part of themself and decides to move on despite the setbacks.

However, there is. A lot more to their stories. And a lot more differences that directly contrast the two in a way that would make them serve as proper narrative parallels.

Don Quixote's dehumanization comes from outside of her familial circle. Hong Lu's dehumanization comes from inside his family.

Don Quixote's family has good intentions but either don't realize the harm they're causing or have no other choice. Hong Lu's family has bad intentions and simply don't care about the harm they're causing.

Don Quixote wished to stay with her family but was forced to leave. Hong Lu was forced to stay with his family but wished to leave.

Don Quixote abandoned her former identity in favor of continuing someone else's legacy. Hong Lu abandoned his former identity in favor of becoming a person that's completely fictional.

Don Quixote started off as someone who acted fully genuine but came out of her Canto deciding to wear a mask that lets her be happy. Hong Lu started off as someone who was a complete fraud but would come out of his Canto more genuine with himself as his mask only furthered his fatalism.

Don Quixote didn't know she was lying. Hong Lu knew and was doing so on purpose.

...I could go on, but I think you get the point.

The reiteration is the point. It's meant to highlight the similarities while contrasting the differences. That's generally how narrative parallels work.

[astrotruther]

Mars in the Sheets

Sorry for the unserious title😭, it's basically on intimacy (Mars signs in all houses)🔞

♈️ Aries Mars | 1st House

They want it fierce and unfiltered. They’ll catch your gaze with that determined, fiery look, then suddenly press you against a wall and kiss you with all they've got. They love to lead and go all in, which can feel almost primal. Spontaneous, hands-on energy—literally, can't keep their hands off you. Fast and intense—sex is a conquest.

2H – Physical touch is everything—slow but hungry. 3H – Dirty talk, teasing, mental stimulation—words fuel arousal. 4H – Emotionally-driven, protective, needs to feel safe first. 5H – Passionate and playful—sex is a game they intend to win. 6H – Focused on technique, enjoys pushing their limits. 7H – Dominant yet responsive—loves a partner who challenges them. 8H – All or nothing—sex must be transformative, almost destructive. 9H – Adventurous and open-minded—loves trying new experiences. 10H – Power is an aphrodisiac—status and control fuel desire. 11H – Unpredictable, experimental—loves breaking the rules. 12H – Hidden intensity—looks calm but secretly obsessive.

When They're Into You: They’ll make the first move, no hesitation. You’ll know they want you because they’ll tell you straight up—or just grab your hand and pull you in.

🎬 Scenario: A heated argument that turns into a passionate kiss. The sound of a door slamming before they turn back and press their lips to yours, breathless.

♉️ Taurus Mars | 2nd House

Their love language is all about sensation—long, lingering touches that make you feel adored. They’ll run their hands down your arms, lips grazing your neck, savoring every moment and every inch. Think low lights, silk sheets, and cozy, indulgent textures. They'll pull you close on the couch, gently pressing their forehead to yours before a lingering kiss that feels like home. Sex is about claiming and being claimed.

1H – Sensual, slow-burning, needs full-body connection. 3H – Slow seduction—whispers, teasing, anticipation. 4H – Needs emotional warmth—intimacy must feel like home. 5H – Loves deep, passionate pleasure—enjoys taking their time. 6H – Knows exactly what pleases their partner—patient and skilled. 7H – Prefers harmony—sex must feel beautiful and mutual. 8H – Dark, intoxicating, secret desires—obsessed with control. 9H – Natural stamina—wants to experience sex in different places. 10H – Status-driven—sex is power, dominance, and legacy. 11H – Experimental but selective—only opens up to a chosen few. 12H – Erotic but private—fantasies stay locked in their mind.

When They're Into You: They'll find subtle ways to touch you—a brush of the fingers, resting their hand on your thigh. Their patience is unmatched, and they'll savor every moment.

🎬 Scenario: Candlelight flickering, soft music in the background, hands trailing over silk sheets. A deep, unhurried kiss that leaves you dizzy.

♊️ Gemini Mars | 3rd House

They'll surprise you, coming up from behind and wrapping their arms around you, whispering something mischievous in your ear. They love the build-up: playful teasing, flirty comments, and clever words that drive you a little wild. Expect variety and constant switches—they’ll play with your hair, steal kisses, then lean back to see your reaction. Communication and spontaneity are their turn-ons, keeping things light and exciting. Dirty talk, sexting, teasing—it starts with the mind.

1H – Restless and playful—sex is a fast-moving exchange. 2H – Touch-starved but needs constant variety. 4H – A mix of emotional depth and fun—craves intimacy but avoids attachment. 5H – Flirty, playful, thrives on mental foreplay. 6H – Overthinks but perfects their technique—loves variety. 7H – Needs a smart, engaging partner—boredom is a turnoff. 8H – Talks their way into their partner’s deepest desires. 9H – Loves spontaneous, uninhibited sex—new places, new cultures. 10H – Sex as an accomplishment—loves a challenge. 11H – Kinky, open-minded—thrives on breaking norms. 12H – Secretly wild—hidden desires even they don’t understand.

When They're Into You: Expect nonstop teasing, stolen kisses when you least expect it, and flirtatious banter that keeps you guessing.

🎬 Scenario: Laughter between kisses, a game of tag that turns into being pinned against a wall, whispered secrets in the backseat of a car.

♋️ Cancer Mars | 4th House

Cancer Mars is all about tender, protective energy—they crave a safe, private space where they can let down their walls. They want to wrap you up, both physically and emotionally, and keep you close. They crave intimacy. They love skin-to-skin contact and meaningful kisses. Sex is a very private matter for them.

1H – Intense and protective—sex is deeply emotional. 2H – Needs security first—then, they become devoted. 3H – Soft-spoken seduction—melts through words. 5H – Passionate but private—only opens up in trust. 6H – Takes care of their partner’s needs—subtle but intense. 7H – Feeds off emotional connection—sex must mean something. 8H – Possessive, deeply bonding—once in, they never let go. 9H – Needs emotional adventure—craves deep conversations and intimacy. 10H – Power and protection turn them on—loves to be needed. 11H – Surprisingly wild but only in trusted circles. 12H – Deep, hidden cravings—needs to feel safe before opening up.

When They're Into You: They’ll make sure you feel safe and wanted. Late-night check-ins, forehead kisses, and a quiet but undeniable devotion.

🎬 Scenario: A late-night drive, soft rain pattering on the windows, fingers intertwined on the gear shift. A long hug that turns into an even longer kiss.

♌️ Leo Mars | 5th House

Leo Mars brings a lot of passion and a little flair—they want it to feel like a scene from a romantic movie. They’re not afraid to shower you with attention, and every touch is meant to make you feel like you’re their one and only. It’s romantic, playful, and a little larger-than-life. Flamboyant, confident, lives for romantic tension.

1H – Fiery, passionate, unforgettable—sex is a performance. 2H – Slow but dominant—needs admiration to feel turned on. 3H – Dirty talk, mind games—aroused by praise. 4H – Wants deep emotional warmth—intimacy must feel special. 6H – Loves to please—perfectionist about satisfaction. 7H – Seeks a power couple dynamic—sex is an event. 8H – Dark, obsessive, intense—demands full surrender. 9H – Adventurous—thrives on bold, risky encounters. 10H – Career-driven, but behind closed doors? Dominant. 11H – Unpredictable, rebellious—hates routine. 12H – Secret exhibitionist—wants to be worshipped in private.

When They're Into You: They’ll show you off, give you their full attention, and make every moment feel like a scene out of a movie.

🎬 Scenario: Dancing in the kitchen at midnight, a spontaneous dip-and-kiss moment.

♍️ Virgo Mars | 6th House

They’re the type to pull you close and hold you in their sleep. Virgo Mars loves the little things—they pay attention to what makes you feel good and lean into it. Think soft whispers, gentle touches, and a quiet intensity that feels endlessly comforting. They want to make sure every detail is just right, creating an atmosphere where you feel secure and comfortable. Subtle but intense lovers.

1H – Skilled and meticulous—they study their partner’s needs. 2H – Slow, sensual, deeply focused on pleasure. 3H – A perfectionist in seduction—words turn them on. 4H – Needs to feel safe—intimacy is soft but deep. 5H – Picky, but once in, they’re completely devoted. 7H – Love must feel right—they take their time choosing. 8H – Secretly kinky—obsessed with the details. 9H – Needs stimulation beyond just the body—mental attraction is key. 10H – Controlled but intense—always leaves a mark. 11H – Detached yet secretly obsessive—choosy about partners. 12H – Deepest desires stay hidden—locked behind layers.

When They're Into You: They remember the little things—your favorite drink, how you like to be held. Their devotion is in the details.

🎬 Scenario: The smell of fresh linen, fingers tracing invisible patterns on your back, quiet mornings with sleepy kisses.

♎️ Libra Mars | 7th House

They’re all about creating that perfect balance—your legs draped over theirs, your head on their shoulder, while they run their fingers up and down your arm. They love to keep things harmonious, so expect gentle caresses, romantic eye contact, and sweet gestures. Everything about their touch feels like an invitation, one that pulls you in with grace and elegance. Passion needs to be equal.

1H – Seductive, charming—sex is an art. 2H – Luxurious lover—loves slow, indulgent pleasure. 3H – A master of words—flirting is their weapon. 4H – Needs emotional intimacy to fully open up. 5H – Passionate but elegant—loves the romantic build-up. 6H – Focused on mutual satisfaction—perfectionist about pleasure. 8H – Drawn to deep, soul-binding sex—intensity must be mutual. 9H – Adventurous, playful, enjoys new experiences. 10H – Magnetic, irresistible—sexual energy feels high status. 11H – Open-minded, experimental—loves exploring fantasies. 12H – Secretly craves total surrender—hidden depths of passion.

When They're Into You: Every touch feels like an invitation. They’ll take their time, making sure every glance and movement is perfectly timed for maximum effect.

🎬 Scenario: Champagne glasses clinking, slow dancing under fairy lights, the feeling of silk against skin.

♏️ Scorpio Mars | 8th House

Scorpio Mars craves intense connection—they want to merge with you on a soul-deep level. Think of a quiet room, whispered secrets, and an energy that’s both passionate and mysterious. They’ll hold you tightly, maybe pulling you even closer when you think they can’t. Every touch feels like a promise of something deeper. Your soul belongs to them.

1H – Dominant, intense, you’re theirs—seduction is psychological. 2H – Slow, possessive, stamina for days—sex must feel earned. 3H – Dirty talk that penetrates the soul—turns minds inside out. 4H – Emotionally binding—sex must feel like an unbreakable tie. 5H – Dark, passionate, hypnotic—lures lovers in like a trap. 6H – Extreme focus—makes sure their partner is wrecked. 7H – Drawn to power plays—obsessed with control. 9H – Sex must expand them—thrives on forbidden experiences. 10H – Uses sex as power—irresistible yet untouchable. 11H – Secretly taboo-loving—acts detached, but their mind is wild. 12H – A ticking time bomb—secret cravings they don’t admit.

When They're Into You: Their gaze alone will make you weak. They’ll pull you in with an unshakable magnetism.

🎬 Scenario: Low-lit rooms, the scent of leather and warm skin, a whispered “come here” before they pull you into their arms.

♐️ Sagittarius Mars | 9th House

Sagittarius Mars is playful, free-spirited, and loves exploring new ways to connect. Expect spontaneous, fun-loving energy—they want to keep things light, full of laughter, and open to discovery. They crave excitement and connection that feels genuine and unrestrained. They enjoy sex in different places, different cultures, with different rules.

1H – Unpredictable, playful, fast and wild—loves the chase. 2H – Sensual but restless—needs constant excitement. 3H – Flirty, teasing—words turn them on more than touch. 4H – Warm yet detached—loves deeply but won’t be trapped. 5H – Sex is a sport—playful, high-energy, always fun. 6H – Surprisingly attentive—a pleaser but in their own way. 7H – Loves a challenge—needs a partner who pushes back. 8H – Unapologetically blunt about desires—zero shame. 10H – Seduces through status—sex is a conquest. 11H – Open-minded, freaky, will try anything once. 12H – Secretly insatiable—needs spiritual connection but avoids it.

When They're Into You: They’ll keep things exciting, always finding an excuse to pull you into a new adventure—whether that’s a road trip or a stolen kiss under the stars.

🎬 Scenario: Barefoot runs through the sand, kissing on a Ferris wheel, the thrill of being caught in the rain together.

♑️ Capricorn Mars | 10th House

Capricorn Mars is grounded, sensual, and all about taking their time. They don’t rush; they want to make every touch meaningful. Whether it’s a light graze of their fingers or a lingering kiss on your forehead, they bring a steady, controlled passion that makes you feel safe and desired. Their biggest turn-on is power. Status = aphrodisiac.

1H – Controlled but feral underneath—dominant in a quiet way. 2H – Stamina of a god—slow, calculated, makes it last. 3H – Silent but deadly—lowkey filthy mind. 4H – Needs deep trust—sex is sacred and serious. 5H – Passionate but reserved—a beast once unleashed. 6H – Obsessed with perfecting their partner’s pleasure. 7H – Needs a serious partner—sex must be earned. 8H – Boundaries don’t exist—completely takes over. 9H – Loves breaking limits—challenges their partner sexually. 11H – Freaky but in private—secretly loves pushing societal limits. 12H – Kinky but no one knows—hidden dark cravings.

When They're Into You: They’ll take things slow, but when they decide they want you, you’ll know. Their energy is steady, confident, and all-consuming.

🎬 Scenario: A strong hand at the small of your back, lingering glances across a crowded room, a deep, grounding embrace after a long day.

♒️ Aquarius Mars | 11th House

They’ll surprise you with a sleepy, spontaneous kiss in bed, lips brushing against yours as they mumble sweet words you can barely make out. Aquarius Mars is quirky and unpredictable; they love keeping things fresh and new. Expect unconventional moves, a bit of playful teasing, and a level of comfort that lets you be yourself without judgment. They’re into experimentation and letting you see every unique side of them. In bed, they have no shame in trying everything.

1H – Unpredictable, experimental—thrives on shock factor. 2H – Detached but deeply physical—only commits when obsessed. 3H – Sexually rebellious—dirty talk + unexpected moves. 4H – Emotionally unpredictable—one day passionate, next day cold. 5H – Sex is an experiment—playful, no rules. 6H – Lowkey obsessive about perfecting pleasure. 7H – Attracted to strange or unconventional partners. 8H – Freaky but detached—doesn’t belong to anyone. 9H – Thrives on sexual freedom—hates being tied down. 10H – Secretly dominant—power and status fuel desire. 12H – Hidden fantasies no one expects—kinkier than they admit.

When They're Into You: They’ll surprise you, pulling you into spontaneous moments that feel thrillingly out of the ordinary. They want to keep things unpredictable.

🎬 Scenario: Kissing in the middle of a busy street, neon lights reflecting in their eyes, hushed conversations at 2 AM that turn into something more.

♓️ Pisces Mars | 12th House

They’ll pull you close in a hug, holding on just a bit longer than usual, as if they’re trying to melt into you. Pisces Mars brings a dreamy, otherworldly vibe—they want every touch to feel meaningful and almost ethereal. Expect soft whispers, lingering glances, and a vibe that feels like stepping into a fantasy. Their touch is gentle, tender, and makes you feel like the rest of the world has faded away. They can be the most intoxicating and unforgettable lover.

1H – Dreamy, hypnotic—sex feels like a different reality. 2H – Slow, sensual, almost trance-like—pleasure is an art. 3H – Seduction through soft whispers and teasing. 4H – Deeply emotional—sex must feel like melting into someone. 5H – Passionate but fluid—mood-based, needs the right vibe. 6H – Subtle but intensely giving—sensitive to every reaction. 7H – Needs romance and fantasy—love must feel like destiny. 8H – Seduction is spiritual—loses themselves in their partner. 9H – Drawn to taboo experiences—loves the unknown. 10H – Power is seductive—but they hide their intensity. 11H – Freaky but dreamy—sex is a fantasy come to life.

When They're Into You: They’ll make you feel like you’re in a dream. Their touch is soft, their gaze full of meaning, and their presence feels like a warm current pulling you under.

🎬 Scenario: A kiss in the rain, fingertips brushing like they’re painting poetry on your skin, lying together in a sea of blankets, lost in a world of your own.

I swear I could be in the worst slump of my life and new music from BTS always pulls me out of it. Idk what drug these guys put in it.💌

I'm absolutely loving the new music j-hope is exploring, and I hope he achieves everything he’s working for. Linking a playlist for ARMY who want to join in on streaming:

[imsobadatnicknames2]

Calling Ultima the single most consistently groundbreaking, pioneering, influential series of videogames in the history of the medium would be kind of an understatement (Akalabeth and Ultima I pioneering the idea of adapting tabletop RPGs to the medium of videogames in a way that established so many elements that would become intrinsic to the identity of the genre for decades, like the concept of grid-based first person dungeon crawling and tile-based overworld travel, later games establishing the mold for isometric top-down RPGs, Ultima Online being a critical tipping point in cementing the popularity of the MMORPG), but even among a series that consistently pumped groundbreaking videogame after groundbreaking videogame it's just completely impossible to overstate how massive Ultima Underworld's legacy stands over a huge chunk of the gaming medium, even if its effects manifest in subtle ways nowadays like I legitimately believe no individual videogame in the history of the medium has been as influential as it.

It's legitimately insane how many seemingly unrelated videogames can be directly traced back to Underworld in some form or another. Like, to get the obvious out of the way first, it established the DNA of the immersive sim genre, so if you like games like System Shock, Thief, Deus Ex, Bioshock, Dishonored, Prey, all of those games were either made by people who worked on Ultima Underworld (sometimes by the same studio even), or otherwise directly influenced by games that were.

But also, if you like any first person shooters influenced by Doom and other ID Software games? John Carmack was there when the demo of Underworld was first shown and decided he could create a faster texture-mapped first-person 3D engine. Which he did, at the cost of sacrificing true polygonal 3D environments in favor of the pseudo-3D that he would use for Catacombs 3D and Wolfenstein 3D, eventually resulting in the creation of Doom. RPGs like the Elder Scrolls or Gothic? It would take all day to list off how much they directly owe to Ultima Underworld. That videogame trope of finding out what happened to the occupants of a place through finding in-game logs and documents? It was established by Ultima Underworld and popularized by one of its successors.

That's without mentioning how many games directly cite it as an influence. Some already mentioned like Bioshock, Deus Ex, and Elder Scrolls, but also like. Half-life 2? Tomb Raider? Gears of War? Vampire the Masquerade: Bloodlines? All cite it as a direct influence in their game design.

Like of course a lot of these things are by virtue of being one of the earliest free-moving 3D first person videogames, when you're that early in the history of the medium you'll inevitably end up being the first to do *something* that otherwise someone else would eventually have ended up doing anyway, but no other game has a "first videogame to do [thing]" list anywhere as long and important as Ultima Underworld's.

[charmed-asylum]

Girl u taking words out my hod damn mouth huh girl mmm u and I can do a pod cast w way this chapter went. Side note honey boo boo I know the feeling girl it be hard af you wanna just read your stories but got a 15 page paper due by Monday on some boring ass philosophy topic. ( and my ass planning on going to get my doctrine) 🤧😪🤧😪🤧😪🤧😪🤧😪🤧

Honestly idk who I’m more mad at. The father or Ward. “ No one ever took you seriously anyway” Is Rafe really even the dark one ( on fence but he sure as hell a manipulative perk) if you got both a father who okay you might think your doing the right thing which in all turn for you to be a fuckin cop out and wait til your dead dirt still freshly laid to do this to your legacy to your blood to your daughter or Ward who can’t put any respect to it simple more emotions what if this was Sarah or W who had this happen to you but no no u don’t. I love that while it’s stats: dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, the reader didn’t seem to bimbo in 1st part.. in all it’s just not the right time for this but damn u make us so invested into this story. Like” Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them” so sad because maybe she can have this with Rafe but but it’s not gonna be the same because of a man selfish and lack of respect for a woman or another then themselves it gonna be twist with a sour tastes Ward lit came in busing in like he own it like shit bring a grief counselor or something, You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either. This statement kept repeating its self over and over again. She said it he said I’m sure as hell know dad thought it but is it true sorry but what can Ward or even Rafe know about the land compare to over . ( let me stop my podcast on this one part alone lol) I do want to ask she talks about her mom a lot how long was she alive before he died to have so much confidence on the dad and men oh they can’t be bad daddy care about me and mommy this or that honey your dad was a man 1st dead beat on the horizon second. Shit she could have stay at college hello or something.

“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.” 

That got me in a chock hold like man again for a bimbo reader she got to much smarts on her to be a true bimbo but I gotta say trying to escape to a shack and getting bored and coming back with a daisy crown and a bundle of flowers hehe.

“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense…This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close

What a piece of shit huh

I wonder if this was first time he saw her when he was following her: And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame. Also so you telling me he waited til she got bored went pick a bunch of flowers and made a crown til he decide to say something lol I also do wonder why this like Rafe said this is like a slap in face with a fish deal for him or this a test also I’m worried when he said this : But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped. 

In all he stated he how power and this idea of to be shaped idk even if he does manipulate her she obviously has more common sense then they think does she do it right mostly no but I hope and feel won’t be so easy. But I can see away he can get to her way Ward is with him. No lie he play his shitty hand right she might give him a pass or two. —> Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.

Okay so John B works for the ranch oooo ooo ooo. Idk but I’m thrilled about this. Also can u imagine the fit he had lol

Also is he upset this was more worried about the horse then him or she talk to John B in general: Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight. 

What a perv: Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!” idk I feel he so all over the place you mad but 1st chance you get to touch her u do . You get mad she talking to a boy and mostly what he call having brat behavior

Huh that whole car scene had me crying and throwing a fit huh huh huh I think W gonna be her new bestie and a reminder for Rafe. Fuckin manipulated the fuck out of Herve this shit mmm mm mmmmmm !!!

“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.” Because it’s after that and the other moments yeah he still him but idk more he gonna be w her I think it’s gonna see it change to a different vibe.

Also u know he love playing w her and with this proud love for her daddy girl u about to get a whole new daddy girllllll : Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?” 

Hate me but that talk about wild horse idk idk but huh i feel hear me out that a threat andddddddd a challenge and maybe ( smack lips) him saying he turn on.

Damn damn damn I hate it bc lets be real we know as rafe drew lovers that he soooooooo bad so bad so naughty so huh all these things and still like a sour candy we go for another huh ( dramatic fall to a chair) damn damn damn that oh u want another kiss we’ll get doll up for me shit smh he gonna do that to her and it was her 1st man o man let him realize that shit. He gonna be baby oil in his hand with lighted candle and some RB music in background fuckin ready . We screw we screws.

You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.

rough hands, soft chains [1] r.cameron

[warnings] dark!grey!rancher!rafe x bimbo!cowgirl!reader, arranged marriage, rancher au, manipulation, size difference, future smut, little editing, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK 18+

A/N: This is an au I'm trying out where Kildare County is actually in Montana and all the pogues and kooks exist within a ranching community. Hope you enjoy!! I would really appreciate feedback, reblogs are most appreciated!

In which your dying father struck a deal with Ward Cameron, he promised the family land in exchange for your safety. But protection comes with a price, and that price is Rafe Cameron.

word count: 5k

rafe cameron masterlist

After the funeral, you flopped down on the old leather couch in your living room, absently twirling a lock of your hair as you stared up at the cracked ceiling. Your black dress, meant for the sweltering summers, fell just below your knees. You’d paired it with a shawl you found tucked away in your mother’s dresser, a pretty, soft thing with little patterns you didn’t understand, but it smelled like her, so it felt right.

People at the funeral said you looked “so grown up” now, which filled you with a sense of pride. They said nothing about the dirt under your nails from wandering around the yard barefoot earlier that morning or the way your mascara smeared from crying too much. No one ever took you seriously anyway. 

The quiet of the house was deafening, pressing in at you at all sides. The lack of his presence weighed on you. He’d built every corner of this house, your mother painted every wall, and you were grateful for the life they’d built you. Three bedrooms, a wrap-around porch where you’d once dreamed of watching your children play in the yard as you rocked in your chair, and the old, red barn that had weathered time alongside them. You knew you couldn’t lose it, but you weren’t sure how to keep it either.

A loud knock at the front door made the house shake and snapped you from your daze. It was not the knock of a kind neigbor delivering a sympathy caserole, the knock was firm and authoritative. You half expected the sheriff to be behind the door but instead found yourself staring back at Ward Cameron. 

You pushed back the curls that had fallen into your face. He stood before you, tipping his finest black cattleman hat with deliberate grace, lifting it from his head and placing it over his chest in a quiet gesture of respect. His square jawline was sharp, his striking blue eyes unflinching, and though the gray streaks in his hair hinted at age, they only added to his rugged handomenss. 

“Miss,” he greeted you smoothly, his voice as sharp as the crease in his shirt. He looked out of place here, too clean, too polished for the worn edges of your family’s ranch.

Your anxiety peaked, “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” You gripped the handle of the door tighter than you expected. 

“I think you know why I’m here.” His smile didn’t reach his eyes. “It’s time we talked about your father’s arrangements.”

Arrangements? You shifted nervously, trying to make sense of his words. You knew your dad had debts, but it wasn’t like he told you all the details. You knew that a significant amount of your father’s debt was to Ward. It humiliated your father to lease the Cameron’s grazing rights but he only did it to keep the ranch afloat. Money and paperwork were never your thing, and your dad always said not to worry about it. “I—I don’t think there’s anything to talk about. I’ll figure out how to pay you back, okay?”

Although Ward wasn’t the tallest man, most people towered over you, and as he leaned in the doorway, you knew he had your stature in mind. 

Still, his smile was empty, “Why don’t we discuss this in your father’s office, hmm?” 

“Um, no thanks,” you said quickly, shaking your head. But before you could shut the door, his hand pushed it open with way too much ease. You stumbled back, your cheeks heating with embarrassment as he walked in like he owned the place.

“Excuse me! You can’t just barge in here!” you squeaked, hurrying after him, his expensive boots, tapping against the creaking floor of your home. 

He made his way down the downstairs hallway, barging into the room that not even your father wanted you to step in. Immediately as you stepping inside, a coldness touched you. he heavy oak desk sat like a monument to your father’s stubbornness, papers scattered across its surface in disarray. Just looking at it made your brain feel fuzzy. Ward moved behind it as if it were his own, his hands brushing against the chair’s worn leather.

“I offered to come speak to you, before all of this drama, but your father insisted I wait until he was gone,” Ward gestured to rickety chair that sat in front of the desk, “Sit.”

You ignored him, crossing your arms in stubborness, “What are you talking about?”

“Do you know how much exactly your father owes me? How much you’d be taking on?”

His words, like they had certainly intended to, made you feel stupid. Your father made sure you were uninvolved in the ranch’s finances and he had just passed this week, you hadn’t thought about entering his office and disturbing his things. 

You blinked, your mouth opening and closing. “Well… um… I know he owed some money, but he didn’t really tell me how much.”

“It’s more than the farm is worth, Y/N.”

The weight of his words settled heavily between you, thickening the already suffocating air in the room. You clenched your jaw, refusing to show any sign of the panic tightening in your chest. The farm, your father’s legacy, your mother’s dreams, was supposed to be yours to save.

“That can’t be right,” you said, though your voice wavered slightly. “My father would’ve told me if it was that bad.”

“Would he? It’s nothing you should’ve worried your pretty head about,” Ward continued, his eyes sharp and assessing, “We parents try to protect our children. But he was too prideful. Pride doesn’t pay the bills and banks don’t wait forever.”

“The bank–”

“The bank would’ve taken the entire property if your father hadn’t already signed the land over to me.”

Your heart sunk into your stomach at Ward Cameron’s words. Your breath hitched as you stared at him, trying to process what he’d just said. You shook your head in disbelief, “He wouldn’t do that.”

The land was the only piece of your father that you had left. A hundred acres that your family and only a few ranch hands tended to.There were dwindling amounts of livestock, mounting debts, but it was your home. Humble in comparison to the Cameron’s thousands of acres but it belonged to your family. Even if you were the only one left. 

“This all would’ve been easier for you if your father had explained all of this to you before. I think he was scared of you hating him.”

“I don’t understand.”

Ward’s expression didn’t falter. If anything, he looked almost bored with your responses, “We came to an agreement a year after his initial diagnosis. Instead of losing it to the bank, he would sign it over to me.”

“I promised to take care of you.” Ward’s words were slow, deliberate, as if he were explaining something to a child. “You’re unmarried, no prospects, and this place is a sinking ship. Someone was bound to take advantage of you eventually. You don’t have the resources to rebuild.”

“T-take care of me?” you stammered, your face scrunching in confusion.

“You’ll come live with my family for the time being. And eventually you will marry my son, Rafe.”

Your eyes went wild, “Are you crazy?”

Ward’s expression didn’t change. If anything, he looked even more smug. “This arrangement keeps the land in the family, ensures your safety, and gives you a future. You’re not equipped to handle this ranch on your own, Y/N. Your father knew that. I’m offering you a way out.”

You gaped at him, your thoughts spinning too fast to make sense of anything. “I… I want to talk to a lawyer or—or see his will or something!”

“You’re out of options. It’s either this arrangement or being out on the streets. I’m tossing you a lifeline.” 

 “I didn’t agree to this,” you said, your voice shaking with a mixture of anger and disbelief.

“No,” Ward admitted, standing and adjusting his cuffs. “But your father did. And a Cameron always honors their agreements.”

You wanted to scream, to tell him to leave and take his deal with him, but the weight of your father’s decisions pressed down on you. The debts, the ranch, your future—it was all tangled up in a web you couldn’t escape.

“I’ll give you until tomorrow to pack your things,” Ward said, placing his hat back on his head. “Rafe will come by to collect you.”

He turned and walked to the door without another word, leaving you standing alone in the office. The walls seemed to close in around you, and although you’d be crying for a week, you cried again. 

You thought that if you weren’t at the house when Ward’s oldest son came to collect you, they might just give up and leave you be. Maybe you’d slip through the cracks of their plans, vanish into the quiet of the countryside. You could disappear for a little while and return in a few days. It would be rough surviving outside but you could make it on your own. You’d packed a small bag of essentials and took Juliet, the chestnut-colored mare that had belonged to you since your fourteenth birthday.

“Okay, Jules, we’re gonna go on a little adventure,” you whispered as you fumbled with her saddle. 

Her large, liquid-brown eyes blinked at you with trust as you led her down the south path, the one behind your family’s ranch, overgrown from years of neglect. You left before the sun had a chance to rise. You didn’t want Ward Cameron or his scary son to find you, after all.

You tried to dress for comfort. Your long jeans would keep you warm, and you layered a jean jacket over a soft white cotton shirt. Perched atop your head was your trusty white cowboy hat, its wide brim offering protection from the sun, taming your unruly curls, while keeping your face shielded.

Juliet made a snorting sound, and you patted her neck. “Don’t worry, girl, we’ve totally got this. Like, what’s the worst that could happen?” You glanced back at the ranch, its dark outline fading behind the trees. 

You mounted Juliet after deciding the direction you were going to travel in. You wanted to be much farther away by the time the sun came up. The air was cool and crisp, a reminder of the coming morning. You looked behind you although you were sure no one was following you yet. 

The path twisted and turned. “Okay, so if we head toward the old fishing shack by the river, we can stay there for, like, a day. Nobody’s used it in forever.” You spoke out loud, pretending that Juliet could respond. “I think it’s... that way.”

You continued down the path in the direction you remembered the fishing shack to be located. The sun rose slowly, bringing light to the dark path. The shack was tucked away on the outskirts of the ranch, sitting in the bend of the river, most of it shielded by tall grass. The water flowed gently, the sound caressing your ears, it’s hues reflecting the red in the sky. 

A clearing sat nearby covered in wildflowers, the bright colors splashed against the muted landscape. You hadn’t ventured this far out since the previous spring and were surprised to see how the flowers had held their vibrancy, defying the chill of the cooler months. 

You hopped down from your saddle, taking Juliet’s rein before you tied her to a nearby tree, allowing her room to graze. The shack was small and weathered, and you rested on a rickety cot that you had to clear of cobwebs. It felt safe. At least for now. 

If only staying still was your strong suit. A few hours later, boredom quickly got the best of you. You could only talk to Juliet for so long and you’d failed several times to nap inside the dirty shack. The silence pressed in on you. You decided to wander out into the wild flower fields, tugging your cowboy hat low over your curls. The vibrant colors were calling to you. 

An hour later, you held a thick bundle flowers in your arm and a crown of daisies wrapped around your hat. Before you knew it, the shack was almost out of your sight and you faced a long trek back to Juliet. 

You didn’t hear him at first.

“Hell of a hiding spot.”

The deep drawl froze you in place. Slowly, you turned, heart pounding, your eyes landing on Rafe Cameron sitting tall on his horse a few yards away. His blue eyes sparkled with amusement, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at something darker.

Rafe’s quarter horse was even more intimidating. It’s coat was midnight black, sleek and imposing. There was a wild, untamed quality to him, a fire in his eyes that mirrored Rafe’s own.

“I… I was just…” You stepped back without thinking, the urge to drop your bouquet and bolt creeping up. You’d seen Ward’s son from across a room before, but no one had ever bothered to introduce you. Still, you knew enough from the whispers and rumors. He was wild, always getting into trouble with the Kildare County police, and everyone said he was gonna take over his dad’s power and influence one day. 

He was older than you remembered, more rugged, and definitely more muscular. His black button-up shirt clung to broad shoulder and his sleeves rolled up to reveal sculpted arms. A baseball cap sat atop his head, the bill slightly bent, with the Cameron Ranch sigil stitched on the front—an emblem of a stallion rearing. His light brown hair peeked from beneath it, slightly tousled. 

“You’ve been wandering around all morning. Half the town’s already seen you,” Rafe leaned forward slightly, eyeing you curiously, “If you were gonna run, thought you’d go a little bit farther.” You gained the courage to finish your sentence, “I wasn’t running …or hiding. And you can’t tell Mr. Cameron that.”

“Why do you think he sent me?” He smiled devishly, “I’m the one you gotta worry about, darlin’.” 

Your lips parted in shock and Rafe watched you take another step back. His jaw clicked before he swiftly hopped down from his horse. His heavy boots hit the dirt with a thud that seemed to echo, and you couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of him. Though he wasn’t much older than you, it was clear he towered over you, his presence demanding attention in a way that made your knees feel weak.

“I’m not coming with you,” You stated with all the strength you could muster, “It’s not right. You can’t make me.”

He stared back at you. Where Ward was bored by conversation with you, something about your Ward’s made Rafe’s eyes fiery, “And I guess you’ll make your living by what … selling flower crowns?” 

Your eyebrows furrowed. You hadn’t considered that an option. In fact, you hadn’t dwelled long enough on what you would do once Ward gave up on this arranged marriage nor did you have any idea of how to make the ranch profitable again. The idea seemed wrong. Flowers weren’t the key, were they? 

“I’m kidding,” Rafe spoke again after a moment of watching you reflect, “That’s a bad fucking idea. You know…I think your father might’ve been right about one thing in his life. You do need someone to look after you.” 

“You don’t know me,” You looked away, your face heating up with embarrassment, “And I don’t want to go with you.” 

A yelp escaped your lips as he started to close the distance between you, his long strides closing the gap in a matter of seconds. His smirk widened at your reaction, and quickly, you dropped your bouquet and made a run for the fishing shack. Rough hands easily snatched you up by your waist, lifting your feet off the ground, and making your head spin, “You’re real cute, darlin’,” Rafe drawled, hardly breakin a sweat as he dragged you back towards his horse. His grip on your waist was firm, unrelenting, and no matter how much you kicked or squirmed, it didn’t matter. He only hoisted you higher. 

Heavy boots crunched against the dirt. You could hear your breathing and the sharp pounding of your heart in your ears. You lost your hat and subsequently your flower crown in the struggle. Scared that you might spook Rafe’s horse, you found yourself succumbing to his force, letting him lift you onto the saddle. 

“Please, let me down,” You whispered, tears beginning to fall. Rafe was next, hoisting himself onto the black stallion, squeezing himself behind you. You were pressed against him so much that you could feel the flexing of the muscles of his stomach. An arm wrapped tightly around your waist. 

Rafe shushed you, and surprisingly, you felt him settle your hat back on your head. You hadn’t even seen him pick it up. You were never supposed to ride without a hat, that’s what your father had taught you. You barely had time to process it before he urged the horse forward, the powerful animal's hooves pounding the earth beneath you as Rafe held you tightly, “M-My horse, Juliet!” You remembered, panicked, “I won’t go without her, Rafe!”

“I didn’t forget your horse,” He spoke calmer than you expected, though his tone still had an edge to it, “She’ll follow. Unlike you, she seems to have a decent amount of common sense.” 

He kicked the horse into a gallop, the powerful animal responding instantly, the sound of its hooves hitting the ground like thunder in the otherwise still air. The wind whipped through your hair, stinging your face. You gripped the saddle tightly, to anchor yourself, despite knowing that Rafe’s grip was strong enough to keep you from flying. 

This wasn’t the escape you wanted. Not even close. 

Sure, he’d heard the rumors that you were a little …daft. And maybe that was true in some ways, but you were more than he had anticipated. He followed you, watched as you handled the horse with ease, and found himself intrigued. Your confusion, innocence, even your stubbornness drew him in like a moth to a flame. 

The last thing Rafe wanted was a wife. He resisted the way his father felt like he could stll make decisions for him. Rafe was losing with this arrangement. Your father’s hundred acres was nothing in comparison to what he family already had and would acquire. But perhaps his father had seen exactly what Rafe was seeing now. You were raw, so unpolished, and that meant you could be shaped. 

Once you were under the Cameron’s roof, Rafe had the power to do whatever he wanted. 

Proving himself to Ward was a constant battle, every choice scrutinized, every misstep noted. To run the ranch one day, Rafe needed to show he could manage it all, the land, business, and now a wife. Building a home and keeping you in line was just another test.

That morning, Rafe had never expected to chase after you on horseback. He had arrived in his truck, scouring the house for any sign of you, only to realize you were already gone. In frustration, he called John B., one of the Cameron ranch hands, and sent him to bring Trigger, his horse, to the Y/L/N ranch.

When you both returned, John B. was already there, waiting. Thunder cracked above, a sunny morning turning into a dreary afternoon. Rafe barked orders to ensure Juliet and Trigger were both stabled at the Cameron’s ranch.

He lifted you down from the saddle, his grip firm on your wrists before you could bolt. It only took a second for him to realize the urgency in your voice as you spoke, trying to talk to John B., who was already taking Juliet and Trigger’s reins. “She gets nervous when she’s in new places. She doesn’t like to be rushed,” Rafe overheard, catching the panic in your tone.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, I’ll take it slow with her,” John B. assured her although Rafe only glared at the worker, jaw tight. 

“Come on,” Rafe pulled your arm, “We’re leaving.”

Your small hands grabbed where he’d wrapped his hands around your arm. You dug your boots into the gravel in front of the house, “Wait, I don’t have everything. I-I need to grab some things,” Rafe’s gripped only tightened as his irritation grew. 

“You should’ve thought about that before you made me chase after you,” He took one more look at your teary-face before he snapped. Taking you home should’ve taken thirty minutes, not four hours. Without warning, he scooped you up over his shoulder, ignoring the surprised gasp you let out. 

Your legs kicked in the air, “Hey! Please put me down!” Rafe didn’t spare your house on John B. a second glance as he trudged over to his dark, blue truck. Please, that made Rafe brow furrow. Rafe took the opportunity to cop a feel, of course, he had to know exactly what he was working with. You were his future wife, after all, “Rafe! I don’t like being upside down!” 

“Scream all the way there for all I fucking care,” He muttered under his breath, his voice cold as he finally reached the truck and tossed you into the passenger seat.

Rafe sped off moments after he pressed start engine on the vehicle. You went quiet and he hoped to be alone with his thoughts, soothed by the soft pitter patter of rain on his windshield. Fifteen minutes down the road, he heard your breath hitch. He looked over to see you were staring straight head, eyes wide and wet with tears. Smudged mascara beneath your eyes. Your chest rose and fell rapidly and you clutched your hands tightly in your lap. Your lips were shaking, moving as if you were whispering something to yourself. 

Your legs began to jitter, restless, and Rafe looked away. He managed to tune out your obvious panic for nearly an entire minute. He had a rare feeling. One he didn’t fully understanding. The angel on his shoulder was telling him to reach out, to try and comfort you. He thought about what Wheezie might think if this was the disheveled state he brought his future wife to meet her in. He let out a quiet sigh, knowing it was only going to get worse as the reality of your situation set in.

“Hey,” He spoke without that sharp edge, channeling a voice he might use with his youngest sister, “I didn’t mean you’d never get your things. We can come back, when you’re more settled …And I’ll send someone to get all your keepsakes. Okay?” 

“Okay, okay, okay,” You repeated though your voice sounded empty, “Okay.”

He thought those would be the magic words but you hadn’t even turned to look at him. You were doing the same thing, shaking like a leaf, barely taking in enough breath, “Fuck,” Rafe cursed. He pulled over to the side of the road with a sharp jerk, the gravel crunching under the tires as the truck slowed to a stop. Without thinking, he shifted into park and turned to you.

Rafe needed to be more deliberate in his actions. He had eyes on him, his entire immediate family, and he wouldn’t have them thinking he couldn’t handle you. 

He tried to calm you, squeezed your hand, told you to breathe over and over again. Nothing. You were spiraling, letting your thoughts consume you. Rafe had been too rough. It was all too much too fast for you. He wanted to mold you, not break you. 

He leaned in, taking your face in his hands, and pressing his lips to yours. You went frantic but he only deepened the kiss. He held your hand and slowly felt your tension lesson. He entwined his fingers in yours and slowly felt you move your own lips against his. You tasted like cherries, dark red, and perfectly ripe. His hands moved to the back of your neck, his fingers pressing lightly, urging you to focus, to let go of the panic.

He pulled away only when you stopped your heaving. 

“You’re okay,” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “You’re okay now. Breathe with me.”

He waited for you to come back to him, cradling you there. You had no one left, Rafe realized in that moment, the truth settling heavily in his chest. And maybe that was why he couldn’t bring himself to be cruel. 

No, taking care of you wasn’t just an obligation, it was an important responsibility. One he’d shoulder completely. Whether you liked it or not, Rafe would make sure of it.

Rafe Cameron tasted like whiskey, with a faint hint of mint that lingered now even as you stood in the foyer of your new home, Tannyhill Ranch. The white house was sprawling and pristine, situated amidst of sea of green fields. Windows sparkled even in the storm that was coming down, and although the roof’s shingles were weathered, it was hard to believe the property had been there for more than a century. 

Workers, chefs and maids, bustled by but no one spared you or Rafe a glance despite the dry tears on your face and disheveled appearance. 

The interior was grand, the hardwoods polished until they shined, and the ceilings were higher than the ones at church. Everything screamed old money. You felt a hand on the small of your back, guiding you through the grand entrance hall and then up one side of a grand staircase. Portraits line the walls, serious faces, Camerons and previous owners of the estate. 

Their eyes watched you, “Rafe, where are we going?” You asked him quietly. 

“To your room,” He spoke low and firm. There hadn’t been any rough grabbing of your limbs or unwanted rides on Rafe’s shoulder since your kiss in the car. You hadn’t fully let you guard down but you preferred when Rafe was calm, and so you remained calm too, “You can settle in.”

Rafe led you down the upstairs hallway, stopping at one of at least six bedroom doors, and pushing it open. The room was breathtaking, a four-poster bed draaped in white linens, oak furniture, blue-white toile patterns, and large windows that overlooked the property. It was beautiful, yes, but none of this belonged to you. 

Your fingers absentmidnely traced the fabric of the bed’s comforter before you got a grip, turning around to say something in protest, “Don’t look at me like that,” Rafe interrupted, hands tucking into the front of jeans as if to give off a non-chalant appearance. The position emphasized the silvery belt buckle that sat on the middle of his waist. 

“I don’t want to live here,” You spoke softly, your voice still weak from all the crying. 

“I know,” Rafe continued, sounding exactly like his father, “Your father did though. You still love your Daddy, don’t you?” 

Rafe’s words made you think. Really think. Of course you loved your father. He was a smart man and he always did right by you and your Mother. However, deep down, this all still felt wrong. You stood there, caught between the beauty of the room and the unease of what you felt.

You nodded, “But–”

“But this is what he wanted, darlin’,” Rafe spoke in a way that carried a sense of finality. Rafe stepped closer and suddenly his body was a brick wall keeping you from leaving the room. His lips pulled into a smirk and he leaned down to speak in your ear, his breath fanning over your cheeks. Whiskey and mint, “You always did what your Daddy said, right?” 

“Yes,” You answered too honestly for your own good. 

“Now you’ll do what I say. That’s how it works. A young lady belongs to her father, and one day, after she grows up, she belongs to her husband,” He straightened up and you blinked your big eyes up at him. Slowly, your eyes traveled down to his lips, “You’ll thank me, one day.” 

Gently, he tucked a finger beneath your chin, lifting it even higher. You held your head exactly in the place he placed it, making something flicker in Rafe’s eyes. A heat bloomed in your core. You could only think about that kiss, your first one, despite the fact that he was one of the men completely ruining your life. 

“You ever seen someone break a wild horse?” 

His question caught you off guard, and your brows furrowed slightly as you searched his face for meaning. The smirk on his lips deepened, and his hand dropped from your chin.

“Takes patience. Takes strength. Takes knowing exactly when to push and when to pull back. But eventually, the horse figures out who’s in charge.” His blue eyes darkened, the intensity of his gaze pinning you in place, ”Out on the ranch, when we get a wild one. It’s my favorite thing to do. Watch em’ go from fighting you to starting to trust you. Really, there’s no point in fighting. The one’s who don’t submit, we don’t keep em’ around. They’re dangerous.”

“Oh,” You managed to say, shifting uncomfortably, “That sounds … hard.” 

Rafe chuckled in response, “Hard? Yeah, especially if you don’t know what you’re doing.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could, Rafe’s smirk returned, sharper now, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You want me to kiss you again. I can tell.”

His words sent you stammering immediately, “No!” 

“Tell you what,” Rafe interrupted smoothly, ignoring your denial as if it hadn’t even registered. “If you settle in, get all dolled up for dinner…” His voice dripped with false generosity. “I’ll give you another one.”

You stared, dumbfounded and frozen until the young rancher casually turned and walked out of the room. Your fists clenched at your sides as a storm of emotions swirled inside you, anger and fear. One emotion simmered quietly beneath the surface, unwelcome and disorienting. Anticipation.

Reblog and let me know your thoughts to be added to the taglist!

[probablyasocialecologist]

Though widespread popular scrutiny of Internet tech companies has exploded only in recent years, the key moments in the historical construction of surveillance advertising unfolded in the mid-1990s, when the new technology of the World Wide Web was transformed from an outpost on the fringes of business to a central nervous system for commercial monitoring. To paraphrase Thomas Streeter, surveillance advertising is not something that happened; it is something that was done. In other words, the massive data collection infrastructure that undergirds the Internet today is the result of twenty-five years of technical and political economic engineering. Surveillance advertising was created by marketers, technology start-ups, investors, and politicians, a coalition bound by the desire to commercialize the web as quickly as possible. Through bouts of competition and collaboration, private and public sector interests steered digital networks toward maximizing their monitoring and influence capacities, tilling the soil for all manner of deceptive communication practices and wreaking havoc on less invasive media business models. The legacy of this period is the concentration of surveillance capacity in corporate hands and the normalization of consumer monitoring across all digital media platforms we have come to know today.

3 August 2022

[enhaflixer]

Hiii! If you could write something for signed sealed and undone, I wanted to drop in something: a look at their relationship throughout the years from the media's eyes only! Like at galas or idk somewhere told from a 3rd pov???

hi so i though this was a wonderful idea i wanted to put my own lil twist on it! A timeline of their relationship told purely through media headlines over the years:

🗞 YEAR ONE — “The Contract”

BREAKING: Park Jay Engaged to Civilian Journalist Amidst Corporate Merger Speculation

— Seoul Finance Daily, January 3rd

“From Nowhere to the Top”: Who Is the Woman Who Captured Jay Park’s Interest?

— Dispatch Korea

Body Language Expert Analyzes the Engagement Photos: “There’s Something Off Here”

— StarTrend Weekly

EXCLUSIVE: Jay Park and Fiancée Spotted Arguing at Embassy Gala — Trouble Already?

— Paparazzi X

“A Business Transaction Disguised as Love”: Netizens React to the Surprise Wedding Announcement

— The Seoul Scroll

🗞 YEAR TWO — “The Shift”

Newlyweds No More? Jay Park and Wife Seen Holding Hands Unironically at GreenTech Summit

— GossipWire Asia

EXCLUSIVE PHOTOS: Jay Park Smiling—Like, Actually Smiling—at Wife During Charity Auction

— The Seoul Paparazzo

Chairwoman Park Comments Briefly on Daughter-in-Law: “She’s not what I expected. She’s better.”

— Korea Economic Post

“This Is Not a Strategic Marriage Anymore”: Experts Note Subtle Shift in Couple’s Public Behavior

— PowerWatch News

🗞 YEAR THREE — “The Breaking Point”

Sources Say Jay Park Walked Out of Boardroom to Be With Wife During Medical Emergency

— KCN Insider

Jay Park’s Wife Pens Op-Ed About Power, Silence, and Being ‘Decorated but Unheard’ — Internet Explodes

— Modern Seoul Magazine

Is the Power Couple Crumbling? No Joint Appearance in Over 3 Months Sparks Rumors

— TabloidEX

Jay Park and Wife Leave Gala Early Without Speaking to Press — Tension or Tiredness?

— Dispatch Korea

🗞 YEAR FOUR — “The Return”

She’s Back: Jay Park’s Wife Stuns at Reconciliation Gala in Crimson Silk Gown — And He Can’t Stop Looking at Her

— Elle Seoul

Park Jay Speaks for First Time About Wife’s Advocacy Work: “She Reminds Me What the Point Is.”

— Business World Asia

OPINION: Maybe It Was Never Just a Contract. Maybe It Was Always a Revolution.

— The Seoul Times

Chairwoman Park Caught Holding Her Daughter-in-Law’s Hand in Rare Display of Affection

— Weekly Politics Digest

🗞 YEAR FIVE — “The Family”

EXCLUSIVE: Jay Park Cancels Summit Appearance After Wife Enters Labor — Priorities in Order?

— MarketWatch Korea

Meet Mina Park: The Next Generation Arrives for Korea’s Quietest Power Couple

— Family & Future Quarterly

Jay Park and Wife Seen Walking with Daughter in Hanok Village — “Just Let Them Have Peace,” Netizens Say

— Anonymous Dispatch Post

Jay Park’s Wife to Head National Media Reform Taskforce: “I Wasn’t Raised For This. I Chose This.”

— Government Transparency Today

“From Contract to Legacy”: Why Jay and His Wife Are No Longer a Headline — They’re History

— Seoul Sunday Morning

[freedelusionshere]

Carmy in the promo with the blue apron over his shoulder in front of The Bear, and Carmy in the other promo talking to Marcus in the alley telling him he’s never alone. They wearing blue aprons.

My prediction is that Marcus leaves The Bear to go be with Luca!

This is foreshadowed by the conversation about legacy in S3. You’re supposed to think Syd is leaving (because of the Shapiro thing) but it will actually be Marcus. He will go start something new and carry that legacy forward from Syd and Carmy.

They’ve already set all this up. Luca and Marcus vibe and Luca is sticking around Chicago for Marcus, he’s in the S4 promos. Luca is in love with Marcus. His flirting with Syd at Ever is supposed to make you worry he’s into her - it’s misdirection. Luca has already said he doesn’t compete with Carmy, he watches what he does, LOL.

Luca has a charming and flirty personality, and he’s into Marcus, he has given him a gift. He is excited to meet all of Marcus’s friends. He knows Carmy invited Syd to Ever which means he cares about her. And Carmy sent Marcus to Luca because he trusts him.