#that the team wanted the visuals to come first and for the song to come second. which meant they wanted the song TONED DOWN

[mbat]

the fact that disney is more determined to give us "amazing" visuals rather than good stories and songs anymore is insulting

like they act like they cant have it all. youre the biggest studio ever, you own more companies than anything ever should, you have more money than i can even concieve of.

YOU ARE FULLY CAPABLE OF GIVING US MOVIES THAT ARE AMAZING IN EVERY ASPECT. SO FUCKING SHOW IT

[dallaji]

Hope we make it to the Cloud.

♡ bada lee x idol!reader / NSFW❗

SUMMARY: Amidst an identity crisis, you try to adequately prepare for your solo comeback. The lyrics have already been perfected, the song recorded and the visuals pinpointed. However, your creative team is not fully convinced by the choreography you came up with. They decide to send over one Bada Lee to help you finetune your jumbled ideas and bring harmony to your vision. You just have one specific request: the routine must include a trampoline.

WORD COUNT: 10k

CW: eventual smut, bada is 100% a giver and not a receiver in this jsyk (but i promise it makes sense in context), hinted voyeurism.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this was meant to be pure smut but it became much longer than i intended ... oops for that . . . lets just roll with it!!1 also the choreo described is heavily inspired by tinashes bouncin.

- you don't care about those 7k words worth of boring build up? skip to this line: <After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?”>

————— ୨୧ —————

The first thing you notice is how surprisingly gentle her voice is. 

“I’m Bada, it’s nice to finally meet you.”

Bada Lee stood tall in front of you, clad in an oversized jersey, cargo pants and a cap hugging her forehead in such a way her eyes were entirely obscured from your view. She promptly bowed after she spoke. Unsure where to look, you dropped your gaze and followed suit; vaguely aware of her seniority and bowing deeper.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” You tried to keep your own voice as neutral as possible, but agitation bubbled in your chest as you felt your manager’s prodding, eager eyes behind you. “Thanks for being here.”

Your team was much more excited about this collaboration than you were.

None of the aggravation you felt was Bada’s fault. It had been three weeks of your creative team dismissing every choreo draft you came up with: Three weeks of sleepless nights at the dance studio, tiring out yourself and your background dancers. Three weeks of browsing through videos sent in by other choreographers across the country, attempting to mix bits and pieces together but none of it ever feeling right. Three weeks filled with reminders of a deadline looming over your head. Three weeks of your team letting you know they had little confidence in this comeback. Your last attempt at showing them what you had come up with had ended up in a shouting match. Your manager, who you otherwise got along with just fine, bluntly stated that, perhaps, this concept simply wasn’t something you could pull off.

It had left you feeling betrayed. Your creative team had agreed it was time for you to approach a more mature concept, something that you felt was years overdue. But it seemed their definition of mature and yours were wildly different. You had worked hard on perfecting a set of songs to choose from, but you immediately butted heads with the rest of the team. You wanted to do the bouncy and playful R&B track. Your team wanted the EDM track. Eventually they relented, but now seemed hellbent on making it as difficult as possible for your vision to come to fruition. Putting together the visual board for the concept photos and the eventual music video was a similarly arduous process. You had to meet in the middle and sacrifice a lot of your initial ideas, but that procedure was almost pleasant compared to what you were dealing with in regards to the choreography.

Every idea you put forward was promptly shut down. Too complicated. Too boring. No TikTok challenge potential. Too sexy.

And maybe it was true. Your formations weren’t as clean as the ones thought up by a professional choreographer, but you weren’t really given a chance at all. It wasn’t like you were a bad dancer either. Far from it. You picked up choreos incredibly fast and had always played an active part in brainstorming past routines alongside your background dancers. You had more experience than most of your peers, yet you were treated as if you were still the same teenaged trainee from years ago.

“Is that really how you all feel?” You had whispered after your manager dropped that bombshell, searching for an answer in the facial expressions of your creative team. Most of them were not even willing to meet your eyes. “We just need to be realistic.” Your manager stated matter-of-factly. “That other song is still an opt—” “I am not changing the song.” You cut him off. Momentarily, your manager looked like a fish on dry land, gasping for air. “Sorry.” You added quickly, albeit a bit flustered. “Look,” He sighed, “We can do mature without shocking the nation. Let's keep it mild for now and maybe after two or three more singles, you can go all out.” “I haven’t been 18 in years, you know.” You retorted bitterly. Something inside you understood where he was coming from, but you had been obedient since your debut- how much longer should you wait? You didn’t want to sacrifice any more of your creativity, so many years into your career. You had even seen one of your own concepts go to a labelmate instead, your own team dubbing you too “youthful” to pull it off.  “Okay, how about this,” He began with a frown, “Let us pick one of the choreographers’ drafts for you. You can finetune it with their guidance.”

Their pick had been Bada. You hadn’t even realized she sent in a draft: at one point you were so overwhelmed you just stopped checking your emails. You also hadn’t bothered to watch it before this meeting. You were genuinely too deep in your feelings about that whole ordeal for that. However, now that she was standing in the studio, tall height towering over you, you couldn’t help but feel a little self conscious. 

You had seen Bada around.

After all, she had worked with many of your labelmates before. You had also watched a fair amount of her videos. She was one of the best in the business, and whenever you had downtime to practice freely you scrolled through her routines on Youtube to help stay in shape. As you were facing her, even with half her face hidden, you understood why everyone was so stricken with her. When she had walked into the room she oozed with authority, though not in an obnoxious way.

“Great!” Your manager clapped his hands, effectively breaking your train of thought. “Thank you so much for supporting us, Bada. Shall we jump right in?”

“Sure,” She nodded eagerly, hands wringing together as her body turned towards you. “I kind of wanted to see what you had in mind for this choreo.”

That surprised you, and you were certain your facial expression wasn’t hiding it. Your manager held his breath. “Oh! Well—” You chewed on your lip as you vaguely motioned the corner of the room, trying to find the words. “I wanted to use… I wanted to use a trampoline.”

Bada immediately turned her head to follow your gestures, her eyes landing on the mini trampoline set up in the studio. “A trampoline?” In the background, your manager heaved a sigh.

You purposely ignored him and nodded, slowly: “I can show you, if you want.” You had hoped that sounded more self-assured to her than it did to you.

Bada scratched her chin, still looking off to the trampoline, and then nodded along with you. “I’d love to see it.” 

You felt the tension in your chest ebb away. There was no malice to her tone; she seemed genuinely curious.

Then, Bada turned her head towards your manager, her ponytail falling off her shoulder. “I hope I'm not imposing but, I would like this to be a collaborative effort between the two of us. I think it would take the pressure off if you…?” She trailed off with a kind smile, one impossible to say no to.

As if he got doused with cold water, your manager stood up with an urgency. “Privacy! I can give you two some privacy, no problem!” He fussed around, gathering his things. “Just let me know when we can sit in on the finished product.”

The both of you bowed to him as you bid your farewells, watching him leave the studio with a wave. Once the door shut behind him, you could feel yourself exhale in relief. You knew that if your manager was going to sit in on every practice, he would go out of his way to shut down all of your ideas. Without him around, you had more opportunity to champion your vision- at least, you hoped so.

You craned your neck, looking up at the ceiling, before letting your eyes fall shut with a sigh, almost forgetting there was another person in the room.

“They’ve been on your case, huh?” 

Bada's soft but clear voice broke you out of your spell, and you turned your head to search for a glimpse of eye contact. Tough luck, as her hat was still in place casting a shadow down her face. There was, however, a knowing smirk playing across her features.

“You have no idea.” You muttered honestly. Bada laughed.

“I don’t want to make you dance a routine you don’t fully stand behind. I did mean it when I said I want this to be a collaborative effort.” Bada spoke carefully, but sincerely, her fingers once again intertwining. “I always wanted to work with you, so it’s an honor.” She added.

If you got a penny for every time you were caught off guard today, you could set some humble savings aside for an early retirement.

It is true that you’ve been sought after, but it wasn’t something you had ever internalized. Hearing it come from someone who herself was heavily sought after, made your face heat up.

“T- thank you. It’s an honor to work with you too.”

She bowed her head humbly, glancing over to the corner of the studio again where the trampoline sat, waiting. “Do you feel comfortable showing me what you have been working on?”

You nodded and rushed to the corner to set up your speaker, and then dragged the trampoline to the center of the room. You were oddly aware of your own presence, and almost felt the urge to make yourself smaller as you moved around. In the meantime, Bada was getting comfortable: she had dropped her things on a nearby table and left out a bottle of water. To her it must be a regular working day, but to you this felt scarier than getting up on stage.

Once you stood behind the trampoline, facing the wide stretched mirror filling up one side of the room, you stole a glance at the choreographer who was now crouched on the floor. She had pulled out a small camera and was setting it up on the edge of the table, making sure the lens was focused on your position. Long fingers fiddled with the buttons, and her tongue was prodding the hollow of her cheek. The angle allowed you to finally catch a glimpse of her eyes.

As if on cue, she glanced up at you. Your eyes met in the reflection of the mirror and your heart raced.

She gave you a soft smile and moved to sit cross-legged on the floor, the camera now fully set up. “I usually record everything, so we can watch it back and give feedback.”

Right, of course.

“Yeah, that’s usually how we operate as well.” You spoke timidly, and it was true. Yet something about having her attention on you felt more intimate. Usually there was at least one other person from your creative team looking on as well.

Trying to come across casual, you tied your hair up in a high ponytail. “What do you think of the song?” You asked curiously.

It was now Bada’s turn to be caught off guard. Her smile faltered and she broke the eye contact you had been sharing, clasping her hands together as she spoke. “I like it.” She began. “A lot, actually. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. There isn’t anyone doing a song like this nowadays.”

Even though her body language was confusing, you couldn’t find any dishonesty in her voice. What she said made you feel relieved, some of your insecurity fading to the background. It’s why I wanted to play a part in it. 

You sent a smile her way even though you weren’t sure she was even looking at you. 

Proving you wrong, she smiled back.

“Alright, so,” You gestured to the trampoline at your feet. “The idea is, the other dancers and I all do the same routine. I'll be front and center. Four or six other dancers dance behind me, with their own trampoline.” You gave the trampoline a light shove with your foot, making sure it would stay in place, and then grabbed your phone. “Then you have an idea.” 

You looked over your shoulder at Bada and gave her an inquisitive thumbs up. “Ready?” You asked.

Bada pressed a button on the camera and mimicked your thumbs up with a smile. “Ready when you are.”

You faced the mirror again and shook your shoulders a bit, forcing your body to loosen up. After twisting your neck a few times, you hit play on your phone, quickly placing it under the trampoline as the familiar synths of the song started blaring from the speakers. You tried to feel the confidence you were usually able to conjure up on stage, closing your eyes and swaying your hips, ponytail moving from side to side. 

As soon as you heard your own voice through the speakers, instrumentals going deeper, you got into position. Your eyes opened up to focus on your own reflection in the mirror as if it was a fan in the crowd watching. Mouthing along to the lyrics, a playful smile on your lips, you hit every move as you had envisioned. Once the chorus came up, you dropped to your knees on the trampoline, grappling the edge as you performed the routine. Pushing back against the springs gave you the velocity to keep your moves fluid, your body twisting and turning, flipping over and hitting the next move. You made sure to move your hips deftly, aware that you had enough curves to allow you to pull it off, and kept your facial expressions in line. It had to look effortless. 

You felt your ponytail swing along with your movements as if it were an extension of you, and sat up on the trampoline. The chorus came to an end and you used your arm strength to twist yourself around fast enough, gracefully falling back on your chest whilst keeping your toes en pointe in your sneakers. The tips of your fingers were touching the floor as your legs crossed, moving to rest your elbow on the edge of the trampoline and resting your chin atop your palm. You lip synced to the final words of the chorus, gaze alluring as you finished the move, and the music stopped.

You slowly sat up straight on the trampoline, crossing your legs, and slid your hand underneath to hit pause on your phone. You looked towards Bada expectantly, but the question got stuck in your throat. She was staring at you, mouth slightly agape, with an unreadable expression. For a split second you were reminded of your trainee days, when you had just finished a routine and were met by your choreographers’ stern faces; they wouldn’t spare you a single compliment, and instead listed off every mistake you had made.

But then, Bada blinked once and then twice, as if in a daze, and let out a soft “woah”. She started applauding you, shaking her head in bafflement. You felt your shoulders drop in relief.

“That was incredible!” The choreographer took off her cap, fixing her bangs before putting it back on. “You came up with this?”

You nodded slowly, the tips of your ears glowing hot. “I used to be a gymnast.”

“I can tell—” Bada spoke bluntly, but then snapped her mouth shut as if she said something wrong. “I mean, that was really good. Every part of your body was in command. Your team didn’t like it?”

“They think it’s too much, compared to my usual routines.” You had the urge to go off on a tangent, but ultimately you didn’t know Bada well enough. Unfortunately, you were naturally quite expressive and the disapproving frown on your face was on clear display.

“Too much? I kind of wanted more, actually.” She laughed softly, looking down to where her legs were crossed. You felt your heart skip a beat and bowed your head in lieu of a thanks. 

Subsequently, the bright green light of the camera caught your attention. It was still recording. 

“Hey, I think the camera is still on.” You spoke before you realized, and hoped it didn’t sound accusatory.

“Huh? Oh!” Her expression was almost akin to a child being caught with a hand in a cookie jar, the way she swiped at the camera to turn it off. “Sorry. Good call.” She mumbled shyly, tucking it behind her. 

You weren’t sure what to say next, still flustered at her lofty praises, but luckily Bada broke the momentary silence.

“I had an idea…” She began, her hand rubbing at her chin pensively. “I don’t know if you’ve had the chance to watch my draft yet?”

You shook your head abashedly. “No, sorry, I honestly didn’t get to it.”

“It’s fine.” Bada waved her hands dismissively. “Maybe instead of doing the trampoline routine in every chorus, we could only do it in the middle? Exactly as it is. I wouldn’t change anything. And then for the other two choruses, we could keep some key moves but keep it on the floor.”

You mulled it over for a second, glancing up at the ceiling contemplatively. Using the trampoline the whole way through was not an option, according to your team. They had felt you were toeing the line with ‘raunchy’ much too closely. Perhaps you could find middle ground this way, while still keeping the part of the routine you felt most proud of. 

“Okay.” You agreed, nodding slowly. “We would need something special for the final chorus, then.”

“I had another idea for that, if you’re fine with it. Would you like to watch my draft with me?”

————— ୨୧ —————

Her draft was good. Really good, actually. 

Bada and you were sitting on the floor next to each other, the taller girl holding her phone out in front of you as the draft played on the screen. You were sitting quite closely together, but not close enough to be touching, a conscious decision on your part. You were a bit too aware of her presence, something about her was heightening your senses in a variety of ways. It wasn’t even as if she was stern or unkind, she just had an aura that intimidated you. At least, that’s what you were telling yourself.

A blonde girl you didn’t recognize was dancing your parts. Six other dancers, one of them being Bada, were in formation behind her performing the choreography perfectly in sync as your song played in the background. While you should really be paying attention to the girl in the center, your eyes couldn’t leave Bada’s figure. In the video she was dressed in loose-fitting cargo pants, just like today, and a crop top. Once again she wore a cap covering half her face, and even a face mask, but her hair hung loose over her shoulders. 

You were always impressed by the small movements she was able to squeeze in, emphasizing certain parts in ways the other dancers weren’t able to. However, it was the final chorus that had your hands turn clammy.

The final chorus was a duet formation. Bada, with a quiet confidence in her step, and the blonde girl moved towards each other in the center of the room. They were effectively dancing for each other, the blonde girl whipping her head back as Bada stared her down, swaying their hips together rhythmically. Their steps were coordinated in such a way they almost mirrored, Bada rolling her body one way and the blonde girl moving the other; but it still felt cohesive. It was an intimate choreo. There were a few split moments of hips grinding against crotches, but it never lasted long enough to be straight up inappropriate. Still, you couldn’t help but realize you would have to practice this routine with Bada as well, and you felt yourself getting hot under the collar.

The choreo ended with the blonde girl giving Bada a playful shove, and the taller girl backed away slowly, a saunter in her step, before moving off the screen along with the other background dancers. The video ended and Bada dropped her phone in her lap, not looking at you.

“That was good.” You were relieved your voice came out evenly, and Bada started nodding in her trademark way, hands clasped together. “The formations were really clean and— I loved the final chorus.” You blurted.

She smirked, head raising and meeting your eyes for the second time today. You were starting to feel eager, greedily watching. 

“I’m glad to hear. We definitely need to finetune the first chorus, line it up with your routine and all that. I really don’t want to lose your input.”

“That sounds great, thank you.” You felt a surge of gratitude in your chest, and shot her a wide smile. “I’m looking forward to working on this together.”

Bada dropped her gaze again, worrying her lower lip. You felt miffed at the brusque interruption of your shared eye contact but didn't show it. 

“I suggest we start with practices tomorrow, we will edit the first chorus as we go,” She whipped out her phone, looking at her calendar. “We should practice the duet together until you’ve got a handle on it, and then I can bring over some of my guys to prep for the actual performances. I know someone for my part. He’s worked with some of your labelmates before, I’m confident he’s right for the job.” 

You couldn’t tell if you were anxious at the prospect of practicing such a choreo with Bada, or if you were disappointed that the eventual product wouldn’t be performed with her. It made sense, though. If your label was already worried your concept was too mature for the country, having two women perform such a choreography wouldn’t be received well at all. 

“Great. Same time tomorrow, just the two of us again?” 

“Same time tomorrow,” The third time she was willing to meet your eyes, and once again with a small smile playing across her features. “Just the two of us.”

————— ୨୧ —————

Working with Bada the past few days has been surprisingly easy. 

On the first day, she brought some iced coffee for the both of you and presented it with an exaggeratedly deep bow, holding out the plastic takeout bag in front of her as if she was a lackey presenting you a treasure. You giggled, muttering an incredulous “thank you” as you took the bag from her hands. Through sips of coffee, the both of you fast forwarded through the recordings trying to piece the choreography together. You were able to bounce ideas off of her in a way you never felt comfortable enough doing with other choreographers. Bada was attentive, patient and, above all, eager. 

On the second day, you wanted to repay your debt and entered the studio with a box of doughnuts. She let out a surprisingly girlish squeak when you laid the box on the table, and barreled over to grab one. That day she was wearing a beanie instead of a cap, something you inadvertently preferred as you could now lock eyes and take in her features. Sometimes you had the impression she was hellbent on looking anywhere except into your eyes, but you didn’t want to mull it over for too long; some people just had a different way of interacting. Everything else about her still left you with a warm feeling.

Sometimes you both took turns performing for each other. She would pull her beanie further down her head as she took the center of the studio, and each time something inside you would brace itself. You could only watch in awe: her movements were sharp and magnetic, her entire body language changing in the blink of an eye. While your attention should be on her footwork, you were instead hypnotized by the sway of her hips, greedily drinking her in. You chalked it up to her being such a captivating dancer.

However, little could explain how much you relished in her undivided attention. When it was your turn to copy the moves, you made sure to give it your all and put on a show. Without a hat obscuring her eyes, you could tell where her eyes were looking and it wasn’t always on your reflection in the mirror. You swore you could feel her gaze burning in your lower back, but you didn’t mind. It encouraged you to hit your moves a bit harder than you usually would.

“You’re a fast learner,” Bada said at the end of the day, drinking from her water bottle as you watched her throat bob. “Keep it up and you won’t need me anymore.”

You didn’t like the sound of that.

————— ୨୧ —————

By the fifth day, the both of you had started working through the details of the duet. 

The familiar song sounded through the speakers, the room filled with the sound of your singing voice and the squeaking of your sneakers on the floor. 

You were painfully aware of the way Bada closely danced behind you but you kept your eyes down, forcing yourself to keep track of your footwork. You bent over slightly at the start of the next line, your hips popping out and letting your hair whip to the side as you hummed along to the lyrics. In tandem, Bada moved her hips the opposite direction but gyrated closer to you, her hand coming up to tug her cap lower. You spared the mirror a glance for a split second, realizing Bada was much closer to you than you had realized, but you pushed the thought away.

You looked good together.

“Pause real quick.” She spoke suddenly, stepping away from you and bending over to stop the song. You immediately halted your movements at the command, trying to control the heaving of your chest and willing away the warmth of your cheeks. 

She stood up again, meeting your eyes in the mirror before steadying herself behind you, body close to yours.

“You’re doing great, but,” A tentative hand slid to your hip, fingers curling over in a loose grip as she subtly urged it to move to one side. Both your eyes remained locked through the mirror. “I think we should move together in this part. Like this.” She repeated the motion, her grasp on your hip tightening ever so slightly before pulling you flush against her pelvis. Her hips rocked along with yours, and you could only follow. 

She hummed close to your ear, and you felt her breathe along the side of your face. “Just like that.” Her voice was quiet, gentle even, though her stare was everything but that. It was intense. 

In an attempt to sound casual you replied with an “okay”, but it came out softer than you had hoped for. 

Her eyes dropped from the mirror, opting to look down at you directly, but you couldn’t find the confidence to return the favor. “You should do that thing again," she continued quietly, "Where you throw your hair back, but look at me when you do it.”

You repeated your steps, but this time both her hands came down to hold your hips in place. You turned your head as requested, your hair falling over your shoulder as your eyes finally met. Her gaze was intense but undecipherable; she hadn’t been looking at the mirror at all this time.

Bada was so close, unblinking and heady. The thought entered your mind before you fully realized: if you craned your neck you could kiss her. In a careful motion, you felt her hands slide up and down slowly, smoothing along the curve of your hips.

“Perfect.” She said, and it sounded so intimate you felt lightheaded. Usually she voiced her approval with an animated smile and a thumbs up, but she spoke to you as if she was scared you would set off running. “You got it. You want to try that again with music?”

You nodded slowly and her hands dropped from your hips, leaving a burning sensation in their wake. As she bent down to turn the song back on, you brought the back of your hand up to your cheek; checking if it was as warm as you felt. Then you ran your fingers through your ponytail, tightening the hair tie with a sharp tug in an attempt to snap yourself out of whatever daze you had fallen into.

It meant nothing. She had merely workshopped a move and there was no need to feel so nervous.

The final chorus of the song began thumping again and the both of you got into your starting positions. Bada’s presence was palpable behind you, but you tried to force your head back into performance-mode. You kept your moves sharp, lip synced as if the voice came directly from your own throat and smiled playfully at all the right lines. 

As the instrumentals of the final chorus got louder, you twirled a finger around your ponytail, playing with the imaginary crowd in front of you. Bada pressed up against your back. Your hips moving in tandem just as the choreo required and you could no longer repress the urge to grind back against her. You saw Bada smirk in the mirror, her eyes obscured by her cap, but you could tell she was enjoying your blunt display of confidence. That made you laugh for real, putting an extra ‘oomph’ into the roll of your hips, dropping even lower, and feeling Bada take what you gave her with a great amount of enthusiasm. You heard the choreographer let out a "woo!" and you giggled.

At the very end of the choreo, you were meant to face Bada and push her away; making room for a final solo moment. So you turned around, meeting that familiar mischievous grin and your hand came up to curl into her collar. Bada sucked in her lower lip, greedily towering over you and looking down expectantly. 

But something about the giddy atmosphere had you feeling bold, so you tugged her even closer instead. Her mouth fell open, but she followed you down nonetheless, eyes becoming half-lidded. You were mere inches removed from each other, and her breath fanned across your face. For a split second her gaze lingered on your lips, and you held your breath, heart fluttering in an unfamiliar feeling. A fleeting thought told you to bridge the gap, pull her impossibly closer by the grip you had on her collar, but your body acted before your brain could. 

You reached for her cap and tugged it off her head, putting it on yourself in one swift movement and then shoved her away as you were supposed to do; effectively breaking the spell. You turned on your heel to look back at your reflection in the mirror, consciously blocking Bada from your periphery and closed out the song. The music stopped.

Now that the studio was quiet you could hear the both of you catching your breaths, and rather than facing Bada while your face was still heating up, you flopped onto the floor, limbs spread out. You moved Bada’s cap atop your face, blocking out the bright lights of the practice room, feeling exceptionally winded. 

You felt Bada sit down next to you and she promptly pulled her hat off your face.

“Ow,” You uttered lamely, arms coming up to cover your face instead. Surely the shame you felt was on wide display and you had to save the little bit of the reputation you had left. You could already hear her voice, albeit uncharacteristically, echo in your head: “What was that?” “Why didn’t you just stick to what I told you?” “That was highly unprofessional.” Your stomach churned.

But instead she said: “That was incredible.”

“Huh.” You exclaimed unintelligently. You tentatively moved your arms from your face and were met with Bada staring you down, her hat back in place. It would probably be too weird if you went back into hiding, so you dropped your arms uselessly. 

“That was incredible,” she repeated, a fond smile on her lips. “You are incredible. I’m telling you, we’ve got a hit on our hands.” She extended her arms excitedly, as if she had to convey the sheer magnitude of potential you both had crafted.

“You really think so?” You sounded breathless, the warmth in your chest blossoming. 

“I know so. Seriously? If your team doesn’t like this, they’re idiots.” Her bluntness kicked a laugh out of you, and you playfully whacked her knee. “No, I mean it!”

“It wasn’t too much?” Slowly you sat up, tugging at the front of your shirt clinging uncomfortably to your body from the sweat.

Bada tilted her head, blinking at you sympathetically as she weighed your words carefully. 

“I’ve already told you,” her voice was quiet, as if she was worried someone else might overhear, “I can’t get enough of you. The same goes for the public, by the way.” 

That made you want to kick your feet like a teenager, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as you fought the impulse to fall into her arms. Instead, you dropped your head with a timid smile hoping that did enough to show your gratitude. 

Bada placed a hand on your shoulder with a touch so soft she might as well be reassembling a broken vase, urging you to look at her. “Let's take a break, order some bubble tea and then watch the recordings. Sound good?” 

You leaned into the touch with exhilaration. “Yeah. My treat, though.”

————— ୨୧ —————

The tenth day coincided with a photoshoot in the morning. You had gotten up at 4am to get to the location early enough so that there was enough room for your stylists to get to work. 

The first thing you noticed was the visual board you had worked on tirelessly a few weeks prior.

It had changed.

Some of the images jumbled around or left out entirely, replaced by ones you did not recognize or even liked to begin with. Even the color scheme had changed. Before you could ask your manager about it, however, your hair stylist beckoned you to follow her into the booth. Still groggy, with just a protein shake in your belly to keep you at bay, you followed without objection.

But then, after you emerged fully made up with your hair in intricate braids and ribbons, you saw the backdrop you were going to work with and the outfits you would be wearing: they looked nothing like what you had agreed on. 

Once sown into the baby pink corset, you looked at your reflection in the mirror with a glassy expression, too exhausted to even express the anger that was simmering in your chest. 

“What happened to the costume I commissioned?” You asked your manager in a flat voice, fully realizing you wouldn’t like whatever the answer would be.

“Oh,” But he didn’t sound surprised at all, “We didn’t really like how it turned out, so we decided to go with something else. Pink looks good on you, you know.” He added hurriedly. 

You blinked, clenching and unclenching your jaw. The last thing you wanted was to cause a scene in front of all the staff. Firstly, it wasn’t their fault; secondly, word got around quickly and the last thing you needed was a trending blind item about diva behavior. With great difficulty you swallowed the venom down your throat and walked over to the camera crew without sparing your manager a single glance. Bowing to everyone separately, you turned on the autopilot. You just needed to get through the day. You posed for the flashing of the cameras, turning your brain off.

“That’s a wrap! Great work, all.” The photographer’s voice snapped you out of your daze, and you slowly stumbled away from the backdrop, blinking back tears.

“Great job everyone, thank you for your hard work.” You hoped your voice sounded even and hurried away to get changed.

Once alone in your dressing room, you bent over the sink with your hands in your hair. You didn’t understand. They had seen the choreography Bada and you had worked on, and approved. They had been enthusiastic even, and it felt like your team and you had finally buried the hatchet. Now you understood why they were so pliant in their acceptance of the final choreo; they had found something else to exert their control over. You didn’t want to cry, so you grit your teeth and untied your hair, fingers smoothing out where the braids had been.

Bada.

In the bustle of the early morning you had almost forgotten you were meant to start your first practice with the entire dance crew today, with Bada as the lead choreographer ensuring everything played out exactly according to your collaborative vision. It had been almost two days since you had last seen her, yesterday being a day off for the both of you, and for some reason it felt like a lifetime.

You wanted to see her, but you weren’t sure if you could dance today.

You arrived at the studio about an hour later, right on time, with most of your makeup cleared from your face and dressed in joggers and a crop top. This time you were sporting a cap as well, hoping the dancers wouldn’t notice the fatigue etched on your face on your first day with them. 

Everyone was already there. Some dancers stretching, others practicing and a few watching the recordings while in deep discussion with Bada. Her flannel shirt was bunched up at her elbows as she made grand gestures with her hands, explaining something to the dancers in front of her. As the sound of the door opening and closing filled the room, the tall girl perked up mid-sentence, shooting you a wide smile. 

“Hey! I got you some coffee.” She spoke brightly, walking over to you in big strides as her loose braid fell off her shoulder. You had just finished bowing to everyone when you turned to Bada, feeling your chest swell at the sight of her. “How was the shoot?”

She must’ve noticed something. Perhaps it was the sag of your shoulder, the way you bit your lower lip or the exhaustion in your eyes; but her smile faltered slightly when she got a closer look. 

“It went alright.” You spoke neutrally, unable to meet her eyes but adding a nod to come across as reassuring as possible. “Thank you for the coffee.”

Bada stood a bit helplessly but seemed to understand that prying any further would be futile. “Of course, it was my turn, after all.” She smiled carefully. “You wanna get started?”

“Let’s do that.” You agreed, hoping that dancing would get your mind off of things. 

Bada gathered everyone together and gave a small speech, making a conscious effort to do all the talking so you could comfortably hide the swelling insecurity you felt deep in your chest. You nodded at the right times, smiled at the dancers (some of them peeking at you in awe) and tried to come across relaxed. 

Once Bada finished talking, she called for everyone to get in position as she strode to the far end of the room, where she had the most optimal view. You moved to the front, right next to your trampoline, facing the mirror and vaguely took note of a tall guy with a buzzcut who now stood in the spot Bada did when you had been practicing with her. Something about her not being part of the dance anymore, even though you perfectly knew this was going to be the plan all along, made you feel even less secure.

You shook your limbs loose, trying to empty your head for the sake of the dancers who were all blind to your inner turmoil and instead incredibly excited to be here. You did not want to waste their time. Once again, you forced yourself into auto pilot. 

The song started playing, bubbling synths building up to your first lines, and you danced. You danced as you had practiced with Bada, but weren’t able to envision the crowd in front of you. Instead you relied on muscle memory, which worked out well enough. Even when the tall guy was behind you for the duet, hips grazing yours, you didn’t feel very aware of your surroundings at all. Sometimes you all had to stop midway when Bada noticed that someone was offbeat or out of position, but you slid back into the moves easily. The team was strong, too. You danced the choreo once, twice, thrice and a fourth time. When you grabbed the guy’s collar, you pushed him back immediately, unlike what you had practiced with Bada, and finished your move.

Bada clapped her hands together with a cheer.

“That was solid, everyone!” She strode over, giving everyone a thumbs up. “Some things we have to smooth over, but we are way ahead on schedule. Let’s take five. I— Are you okay?”

You barely realized your own actions until you felt the warm tears run down your cheeks. You had sat down on the trampoline in such an unceremonious way, body shaking from exertion as you tried to hold back hiccups. Panic began crawling up your body and into your throat. Suddenly aware of the dancers seeing you in such a state, you took your cap off and held it in front of your face.

“Actually, since we are ahead on schedule, let’s make this a short day.” Bada’s authoritative voice declared to the entire room. The dancers nodded along nervously, glancing at your hunched figure with palpable worry. “Great work everyone, make sure to get home safe. Same time tomorrow.” 

You croaked out a soft “Thank you, everyone” through your fingers, but your voice was barely audible. You couldn’t face them.

Footsteps rushed around the room, the dancers gathering their backpacks off the floor. You barely registered the hushed voices slowly echoing further and further away from you, until the door shut with finality; a lock sounding in place and silence reigning over the space.

Bada’s hands came to rest on your shoulders as you felt the trampoline sink with her added weight. Then she pulled you into her arms with a tenderness you had never experienced from anyone before. Your arms tightened around her frame in instinct, dropping your cap onto the floor, and your heart constricting painfully as you hid your face in her chest. 

She didn’t speak as you hiccupped soundlessly, letting the exhaustion pour out of you with quivering shoulders. Bada’s hands traced comforting lines along your back, her cheek pressed against the top of your head as she waited for the trembling of your body to subdue. In turn, you tried to focus on the steady rise and fall of her chest, her breathing lulling you. 

After ten minutes of complete silence, Bada was the one to speak in a hushed voice: “What happened?” 

You glanced up at her, tears still running down your cheeks as you choked back a particularly pathetic sob. “I’m sorry…” 

Bada let out an affronted gasp, bringing her hands up to cradle your face instead and letting her thumbs wipe the tears from your cheeks. “Please don’t apologize. Tell me what happened.”

“My team,” You began with a slurred speech, “They still don’t believe in me. They don’t think I can pull this off.” 

Your voice sounded heartbroken: “They make sure to remind me every chance they get. My manager is certain I am going to embarrass the nation, because there is only one thing I can do and it’s not this. I can’t be sexy. I don’t have good ideas. And maybe they’re right! I don’t have the charisma to pull this off. My fans are going to hate it, because it’s not the person they wanted to support—” There was nothing you could do except keep going, like a faucet running, and Bada let you, “—I can’t even wear what I want. My visual board was cybercore inspired. I had a red PVC two piece outfit custom-made, but they put me in a pink dress and ballet shoes.” You added, horrified; not at the clothes, but at the clear disconnect between your team and you.

Bada, who was nodding along to your words with a serious expression up until that point, chuckled at your words, thumbs still catching tears. “Well I always thought you looked like a pretty princess, but that’s indeed a bit on the nose.”

The follow-up to your rant died in your throat, eyes widening at her words. Your brain was short circuiting. “You think I’m pretty?”

The taller girl scoffed at that, brows furrowing. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

“Why?” You asked, genuinely.

For a moment she gawked at you, deep in thought and searching your face for insincerity. Bada was unable to find it. 

“It’s not the only thing I think of you.”

Something about the atmosphere in the room changed when she spoke, and you almost forgot why you were upset in the first place. She carefully tucked your hair behind your ears, her eyes staring into yours unblinkingly. It reminded you of the way she had looked at you during practice days prior, when you had pulled her close by her collar for the first time. Her attention on you was suffocating, but you were glad to be drowning.

You sucked in your lower lip for a split second, releasing it, and waited with bated breath for her to continue. Her eyes dropped immediately, following your movements. She slid one hand down to the crook of your neck, slowly, the tips of her fingers tracing along your skin and leaving shivers in their wake; her other hand curled under your chin with a loose grip, tilting your head back slightly. Your head felt so heavy you could only lean in closer, wanting more of something you couldn’t even put in words.

But as always with Bada, she seemed to know what you wanted before you could open your mouth and ask for it. She closed the distance, brushing her lips against yours in a soft peck, and it was when you realized she was also holding her breath.

Her thumb trailed along your jawline, breath fanning over your lips. “Is this okay?” She asked quietly. You placed your hands on her thighs to brace yourself, your own lightheadedness overwhelming you, and nodded.

There was a shadow of a smirk on her lips when she kissed you a second time; lips connected with more force this time before gliding together in tandem. She tilted your head to get impossibly closer to you, her hand moving from your chin to tangle her fingers into your hair and cradling the back of your head. When her lips parted and closed around your bottom lip, nipping eagerly, you inadvertently let out a soft noise at the warmth of it all which only seemed to spur her on further. 

You curled your hands into the front of her shirt as her back straightened, crowding around you as if her goal was to subdue, the trampoline creaking underneath your shared weight. She seemed to relish in overpowering you, inhaling sharply through her nose when you parted your mouth for her further.

You felt the tentative prod of her tongue, and accepted. The wetness made you shiver as she swallowed your quiet gasps. The hand that was previously nestled against your neck slid lower, began exploring along the curve of your waist and feeling the bare skin your crop top couldn’t reach to hide.

She parted the kiss, and you let out a soft whine. Biting her lip in an attempt to hide her smile, but ultimately failing, her eyes were drinking you in. You could only imagine what you looked like as even Bada was flushed all over, chest heaving from excitement. Then, as if she was reading your mind, her eyes glanced over to the mirror in front of you. 

Bada shifted her position behind you, running her fingers through your hair before ultimately placing her palm against the other side of your waist. Steadily, as if she were correcting a move during practice, she turned your body to face the mirror. At this rate you simply accepted the effect she had on you, and wordlessly obeyed her ministrations. She planted her feet on the floor, long legs on either side of you; and ultimately caged you in, nestling her chin into the crook of your neck. Her eyes never left the mirror.

She brushed some of your hair over your shoulder as if she were propping up a doll, and spoke in a hushed voice: “Look at yourself.” 

The sight made you feel all the more dizzy. Through half-lidded eyes you barely recognized your own reflection; hair slightly mussed and lips swollen and lovebitten. Someone did that to you. Bada did that to you. 

The taller girl, pressed up against you, placed a kiss on your shoulder, fingers running up and down your body and making the hairs on your arms stand straight in exhilaration. You loved the way she touched you, how it made you feel; as if she was tracing the lines on an art piece. “You’re beautiful,” she whispered against your shoulder, “people would kill to see you like this.” 

The honesty in her voice made something in your stomach roll. “Bada…” You began, but you didn’t even know what you wanted to say.

“You have no idea how other people look at you.” Her hands cradled the small of your waist, fingertips digging into your hips. “So let me show you how they look at you.”

She began kissing up your shoulder, soft and warm presses of her lips, before parting her mouth against your neck with a tangible hunger that left you sighing. You tilted your head to the side to give her more room and every inch you freed, she swarmed eagerly. Her tongue swirled against a patch of skin, hand flattening on your lower stomach as the other traced higher and higher, along your ribcage, before inquisitive fingertips moved under the hem of your top. As she sucked a mark onto your skin, you clenched your thighs together at the familiar sensation between your legs. Your eyes slowly fell shut as she crept up higher, lips pressing right below your earlobe with a barely-there hum.

She whispered: “Keep looking at yourself.”

You obeyed bashfully, right when Bada reattached her lips to your skin. She had been tracing lines along the hem of your sports bra, enthralled with the way you shivered in her grasp, before slipping a hand under; her hand was warm as she kneaded your breast, but your nipples stiffened at the sensation all the same. You pushed out your chest to convey your delectation, and she rewarded you by sinking her teeth into your skin. Suddenly, with a swift movement, both her hands hoisted up the hem of your top and bra, and pulled it upwards, your breasts releasing from its confines. The cold air made them perk up and Bada’s hands cupped the underside.

She detached her lips from your skin with a wet sound before looking up at the mirror, taking you in with her saliva-slicked mouth agape. 

“So pretty,” Bada muttered, bringing your breasts a little higher, “Are you sensitive here?” She wondered loudly before tracing her thumbs right below your nipples. Once again your legs squeezed together, feeling yourself throb from excitement, and Bada picked up on the hint with a wide smile. “You are.”

In your reflection you saw Bada bring her fingers up to your mouth, thumb pressing down on your bottom lip imploringly, and you opened your mouth. She slipped her digit past, pushing it back against your tongue and you sucked obediently. Her eyes were drilling into yours through your reflection, enthralled by how pliant you were under her care. 

You released the digit with a wet ‘pop’ and Bada promptly brought it to your nipple, rubbing it in circular motions as her other hand continued to knead your other breast. A quiet moan escaped you, chest rising into her touch and Bada giggled, pressing another kiss on your shoulder. Your own hands ached to touch her, but she kept you firmly locked between her legs; instead you squeezed her upper thighs, feeling her shapes through the baggy cargo she was sporting. 

“Give me a kiss.” She commanded, and you immediately twisted your neck to capture her lips. 

It was all teeth, wet noises echoing through the room as your tongue swirled against hers; the taller girl groaning into your mouth at the sheer force you exerted. She gave your nipples a pinch before rubbing her fingers over them repeatedly, and she swallowed your breathless moans greedily. You dug your nails into her thighs as she cupped your breasts again, her tongue slipping out of your mouth to trail along your bottom lip instead. Your head was chanting her name, getting drunk on the near delirious attention she gave you. Tilting your head back even further, you connected your lips again even though the angle was uncomfortable. You were starting to feel desperate, hips lightly rocking back against the firmness of her body as Bada sucked down on your tongue.

One of her hands released your breast and trailed down the expanse of your stomach, once again breaking the kiss and instead opt to look at you in the mirror. Her fingers found the knot of your joggers as your eyes met in the reflection, and she pulled on the string; untying it. 

“Okay?” Bada inquired meaningfully, and you nodded much faster than you intended. “Let me hear you say it.” The tone of her voice, which was otherwise so gentle and quiet, made your full body shiver.

“I want it.” You spoke breathlessly, squirming impatiently between her legs as her fingers finally slipped down your pants.

She trailed along the sweatband of your underpants before cupping your heat over the fabric, fingers pressing against your folds inquisitively. Her eyes never left yours, quietly measuring your reactions. Unwittingly your thighs clamped around her wrist, breath hitching in your throat as she began to caress you with a touch so gentle it didn’t fit the precarious position you both were in. 

“You’re so wet.” Bada spoke coyly, smirking at the way your eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment. She began rubbing circles over your covered folds, feeling your wetness spread as if on command. Your breathing turned into whining, subconsciously grinding back against her hand. 

She removed her hand much to your distress, until you realized what she wanted: Bada began tugging the fabric of both your joggers and underpants down as far as she could, before giving your hip a commanding pat. You raised your hips to assist her ministrations, and she pulled the clothing down past your knees before you kicked them off fully. 

Your thighs were pressed together when you got back in place and suddenly felt self-conscious at how exposed you were despite your own eagerness. Bada wasn’t having it: her eyes were taking in your figure, hands immediately coming down to smooth along your thighs. Then, she squeezed tightly and wrenched your thighs wide apart, making you expose yourself for her. Before you could instinctively close them, her long legs hooked over your ankles, forcefully keeping them in place. All of it only made you throb harder.

“You don’t want to know how often I’ve been thinking about this these past few days.” Her hands smoothing along your sides in marvel, cupping your breasts once more. The tip of her nose pressed against the shell of your ear. “How many times I’ve watched those recordings and imagined you, exactly like this.” Her fingers fit into your mouth once again, and you sucked on them, letting your tongue swirl along the digits as if you were starving for it. “I think I lost count.”

Her confession made you moan around her fingers, shivers running down your spine. She scooted back ever so slightly, pulling your hips back with her unoccupied hand until it was the angle she needed, and then dropped it between your legs. Her fingers spread your folds and she sucked in a breath, completely mesmerized by your reflection. You were still swallowing around her fingers and she hummed encouragingly, hand cupping your vagina and spreading your wetness across your heat. 

She removed her fingers from your mouth and you caught your breath, fingers digging into her upper thighs as you braced yourself. As one hand kept your folds spread, the other, spit-slicked, began rubbing slow circles against you. You gasped at the sensation, mumbling her name in amazement. You raised your hand to the back of her head; grabbing a hold of her braid to simply have a hold of something, but it earned you a particularly sweet noise from the girl behind you. Your hips rocked back against her movements trying to find more friction in the right place, and Bada slowly sped up, moving her wrist up and down to try and find the spot that did it for you. Her lips pressed against the back of your neck so tenderly, and something about the dichotomy between that and the way she was touching you between your legs made your eyes roll back; lids closing as you thrusted back against her hand.

You didn’t understand how she was able to build up to that familiar knot in your stomach so soon, and it almost made you feel embarrassed, until you realized Bada was savoring every second of it. Her eyes never left your form, as if she were studying just another choreography, lips parted in an awestruck way. You had long foregone the urge to keep quiet, vocalizing exactly what she was doing to you: You let a particularly loud moan leave you when she rubbed along your most sensitive spot. Trying to pull more sounds from you, she pressed against your clit with more force and rubbed faster. Your hips could only chase her touch as your lower stomach constricted. 

Bada brought her hand up to her own lips and lapped at her fingers, effectively pausing her motions for a split second and thus drawing a broken whine from you; both because her hand wasn’t where you needed it to be and also because she had no qualms about having you in her mouth. It didn’t last long: she hushed you soothingly as she put her hand back where you felt it belonged and used the added wetness to add faster friction against your clit. Your head rolled back and you tugged at her braid, pulling an attractive groan from the girl behind you.

You weren’t far away anymore. Your lower stomach was unbearably tight with desire and you were a gyrating, frantic mess against her hand while her fingers rubbed against you in vertical swipes, her name falling from your lips repeatedly as if you were reciting a prayer. 

You managed to utter an “I’m close”, and Bada crowded against you before you could start begging her for release. “Come for me.” She demanded, and then immediately captured your mouth in a desperate kiss, teeth clashing together while she drank your sweet moans. 

As if on cue, the tension in your stomach imploded and you gave her braid a sharp pull. You gasped into her mouth, no longer kissing each other but rather breathing each other's air, as your orgasm rippled through you.

You felt your whole body quiver and shake in pleasure as Bada led you through your release, thighs trembling despite the hold the choreographer’s legs had on you. Her fingers hadn’t left your core, but the rubbing slowed down until you were gasping at the overstimulation, yet unwilling to make her hands leave you. As if she read your mind her movements came to a halt, but she pressed her palm against you; almost possessively. She planted kisses along the side of your throat, whispering praises against your skin as you caught your breath.

Once you had the rise and fall of your chest under control, her arms curled around your waist in a fond embrace, and you turned your head to look directly at her. She had already been staring at you, meeting your eyes with a bashful smile. The two of you laughed at each other, and Bada pressed your foreheads together.

“That,” You mumbled, eyes falling shut as you relished in her open affection: “Was amazing, thank you.”

“Was happy to do it.” She responded playfully, rubbing the tip of your noses together affectionately. 

“Will this happen every time I get self-deprecating?”

“I definitely intend to do this more often, but you could also just ask nicely.” Bada retorted with a smirk before pecking your lips. You giggled, putting your hands over hers and leaning back into the embrace.

After several more shared kisses and hushed whispers, both of you decided to get a move on: you were starting to get cold in your exposed state so Bada urged you to get up. She helped you step back in your clothes, a smug self-satisfied grin never leaving her face when she noticed the unsteady wobble in your legs. 

When you pulled your bra and top back over your breasts, Bada pouted. You gave her a playful shove but she caught your arms instead, bringing them around her neck as her own enveloped your waist.

“Wanna grab dinner?” Her eyes were round and hopeful.

“I would love that.” You replied, and gave her a kiss.

As the both of you tidied up the practice room and gathered your things, Bada listing off food suggestions in the background, your eyes slid to the table at the front of the room.

A familiar device remained perched on the edge, a small green light lighting up proudly.

“Hey, Bada.”

“Hm?”

“Camera’s still recording.”

She stumbled over looking mortified, snatching the device off the table and rewinding haphazardly. 

“Oh, fuck.”

[f1cflcfic]

The Prophecy (SMAU ft. Lando Norris) Part I

pairing: lando norris x singer!reader (y/n)

summary: what happens after the break-up that noone saw coming? as Y/N L/N gears up to release her next album, each song reveals a little bit of the past, present and future of her relationship with Lando Norris. Inspired by a curated playlist built around "The Prophecy". note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons. Also, this story is angsty with a happy ending - it does not contain any smut or suggestive themes. [A/N: This is my first SMAU and hooooooly shit did I totally underestimate how much work it is, and how things work within Tumblr to make it look alright. If you have any tips, let me know lol. I had to split it up in pieces, but i've got all the content written out already, so will be updated soon with the next part!]

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

December, 2025

February, 2026

[Excerpt from red carpet interview at the Grammy's with Y/N]

How are you feeling tonight? You're up for 3 awards, one of them Album of the Year for All I Ever Needed - that's huge!

"It's so overwhelming, to be honest."

Even when you've gone through this experience before? This is your fourth time attending, second time as nominee.

"Yeah, maybe even more so! It's a great chance to hang out with friends and meet new people, but it's also really prestigious still. Being nominated - I try to act like it doesn't matter, because awards always involve politics too - but at the end of the day, you do want it."

And who're you most looking forward to seeing tonight?

"Honestly? I came alone tonight, so I can't wait to find Sabrina [Carpenter] and Jade. I'm gonna need my girls."

Your friend Miley is also up for an award tonight in the same category, what's that like?

"Ha, if the Grammy's do the right thing tonight she'll win it - I know I voted for her!"

You'll also be performing one of your songs - Ruin My Life, can you tell us a bit about what to expect?

"I really wanted this to be visually interesting, but it took me a while to get the right concept for it. I think it's because to me this album and song already feel sort of far removed, and lived in? I'm in a different phase of my life right now, so I had to find a new way to still connet to it. I was really grateful to work with a great art director to bring a different version to the stage."

March, 2026

July, 2026

[SkyNews excerpt]

Lando Norris wins Silverstone GP, dedicates his 20th podium win to his family

The man of the hour is none other than Lando Norris, who’s just gone on to claim his 20th victory at his home race. You’re reading that right, his home race! While he still owns his apartment in Monaco, Norris revealed today that he’s been living back in England for the past few months. “I just wasn’t in the right headspace anymore and wanted to live closer to my family. Especially now that my brother’s kids are growing up, I just like knowing I could drive over – rather than having to fly across countries.”

Speaking on the importance of his family being present, Norris shared that it means everything to him. “In this sport you need to have skill, talent, trust and investment from your team, but also you need that stable sense of safety from the people you love. If your mindset isn’t there, you can’t be competitive.”

Norris has been vocal about mental health in the past, and has advocated for more access to mental healthcare facilities and professionals across motorsport.

“Especially in tougher years where there’s just a lot of noise and turmoil, it’s nice to have a professional coach you to mental fitness as well.”

It was the only notable reference to Norris’ private life, which ended on a low note last year after splitting from long-time girlfriend y/n l/n. The two were originally thought to have had an amicable split, but recent reports hint at a different story, with Norris unfollowing his ex and her friends unfollowing him in return.

August, 2026

September, 2026

♥･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♡･*:.｡ ｡.:*･ﾟ♥

Part II can be read here! likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

[celestialalpacaron]

Ayo, someone by the name of Curly-B-Blog is redlining art of yours from 2020 (while pretending that it's actually Sai Scribble's work), and kind of being a dick about it. just thought you should know.

You know, originally I was just gonna brush it off, but then I went back to look at my old SU art from 2020 and did so much self reflection from then till now.

I think this was around the time I was just learning how to do perspective and tried to use the perspective tool on Procreate for the first time? :0 and I remember telling Sai “Sai I have this STUPID idea, I CANT believe it this stupid joke it’s so DUMBBBB, it’s living rent free in my BRAIN I SWEAR THIS IS GONNA BE SO STUPID DCIUWHEFIUWHIRFUIW4F” and being super excited to show her the finished product. People still think Sai created the Cursed Skin Gloves comic and I think it’s hilarious wjhwnuhwijwuiw

The comic was received very well and it made LOTS of people laugh and I’m still proud of this comic to this very day! :D and tbh if it wasn’t for my obsession for Sai’s Switcheroo AU I never would have found my passion in comic work! (love you you stinky hoe @saiscribbles 🩷)

HOWEVER…. I definitely still had lots to learn! I wasn’t very good at perspective at the time I’ll admit, but I was definitely having lots of fun learning :3

And throughout the past 4 years, ALOT has happened.

I graduated from college with TWO fancy pieces of expensive papers in Visual Development in Animation and Illustration learning from Will Kim and Jeff Soto, and as a I was working with the funny voice man Cougar MacDowall as a comic/story artist and reached in total around 7 million views for my fan series FNAF Security Malware Breached (it was even #21 on the trending list around the time of my birthday 🩷 what a lovely gift), had an insane opportunity to work with Mike Geno and with the voice cast from The Amazing Digital Circus for a fan song as a background and character asset artist, Vivienne Medrano liking and sharing my silly Overlord Husk AU comics, currently on my route to getting my certificate from Aaron Blaise’s Character design program and graduating from Marc Brunet Art School, and now I am completing my first year as professional colorist and art assistant for my storyboard and comic mentor Michelle Lam, aka Mewtripled! (Also I’ll be heading out to Lightbox Expo 2024 on October 26 with Michelle and the team so if y’all ever wanna meetup hahahajaj wink wink wink wink wink)

So you can say I learned ALOT and I enjoyed every minute of what I do :D I try to be humble about my accomplishments because blah blah being humble good yes yes but this time I wanna be selfish and say HELL YEAH I DID ALL THIS!!! AND IM SO EXTREMELY PROUD OF MYSELF FIUGEIURGERGGRS

Now here’s my most recent comic page that I posted like 2 days ago without the text.

That’s pretty freakin wild to me, I can’t believe I used to draw Steven Universe art like that back in 2020 LOL LIKE GUYS I DREW THIS!! WITH!!! MY HANDS!!! IS THAT NOT INSANE!!!???

Anyways moral of the story:

Learn from everyone and everything! Yes, even then mean ones too! If you can learn to work with anyone, I promise you’ll get to where you want to be faster. People can be a little mean on the internet, but that shouldn’t stop you from being where you want to be in the future. I’m so EXTREMELY grateful for all the opportunities and to all the kind professionals who were willing to give me a chance. Seriously, I’m so graciously thankful for everything, and I hope everyone here will support me and my silly little comics I will do now and in the future!

And one more thing:

Don’t be a jerk. Be to be nice to everyone :D nothing good comes out when you’re bad to everyone.

[trippinsorrows]

give me a reason + three

authors note: still blown away by people's interest in this one. i included visuals in this chapter, so look out for links. tweets and messages are intended to be read from left to right.

as always, confusion is to be expected. :)

one + two

words: 8k

song inspo: just give me a reason by p!nk and nate ruess

warnings: language and fluff

To say this is the first time in his life that Joe has felt lonely would be a lie. He felt it a bit the first time he left home for school, but it was greatly eased by the fact that he had BJ, his best friend. They were both in the same boat, so it wasn’t as bad.

He felt it again on and off over the years as he fought to make an NFL career that was never going to work, well, work. And once that brutal realization finally hit, after taking way too much time feeling sorry for himself, he experienced t it again as he started the hustle and grind to make a wrestling career work instead. 

And he’s especially felt it over the past two years as his marriage with Ri has deteriorated to a level he thought unreachable. 

But this….this is different.

It’s different because he’s not going home to an empty house. He’s on the road, back to work, surrounded by his cousins, a fantastic team, and a plethora of fans. It’s truly the opposite of loneliness.

But that’s exactly what Joe feels.

Because he doesn’t have her. Doesn’t have Ri.

Even if he hasn’t had her for at least two years. Not really, anyway. Not in any meaningful way that actually matters to him. 

A knock on the door pulls him from his depressing inner dialogue. 

Sitting up, Joe calls out, “come in.” 

In walk Jon and Josh, and right away, Joe knows what’s up. He can tell by their facial expressions.

“I’m fine.” Maybe if he jumps ahead of whatever semi intervention they have planned, he can avoid a conversation he really doesn’t feel like having. Physically or mentally. 

“Bullshit,” Josh scoffs, closing the door behind them. The twins sit down on different seats opposite the sofa Joe’s big body is sprawled on. “You ain’t been fine for a minute, Uce.”

It’s not entirely wrong, but that doesn’t mean Joe has to necessarily agree. “A lot of shit has happened.”

“Yeah, and I’m not quite sure you fully allowing yourself to feel that shit.”

“Kind of hard not to.”

“You know what we mean, Joe.” Jon cuts in, asking over a sigh. “Why you here right now? You should be with Ella. Helping her heal and remember shit.”

Joe feels the exact same way, but that’s not what her family wanted. Not what she wanted to some extent, because Joe was present when her parents brought up the idea of her returning home to Florida with them. She didn’t seem opposed. Didn’t express any desire to instead stay and go back to her real home with him. 

Not that he can blame her. He’s a complete stranger to her. Granted, technically, so is her family. So that not being chosen thing has definitely left a sting. 

So, Joe settles on a simple answer, “it’s not what she wanted.”

Josh is quick with the rebuttal. “Man, she don’t even know who she is, let alone what she wants.” Again, not wrong. But also, again, no need to verbalize as such. “Look, Uce, I know….I know things been rocky with you and her the past couple years—”

“Don’t.” This time, Joe doesn’t hesitate to dead the conversation before it can truly transpire. “I’m not doing this shit right now.”

“That’s the problem though, Joe.” Jon jumps back in, pointing out, “I feel like you, and her too, been avoiding talking about whatever it is that happened. And that avoidance has damn near cost you your marriage.”

“I said I’m not doing this, Jon. Drop it.” Joe can think of a million other things that he’d prefer to talk about than that. All kinds of cruel, mideval types of torture would be preferred over venturing down that path. The only person he should be discussing that with is his wife. But, that’s hard to do when she doesn’t even remember it. 

Doesn’t remember the thing he’ll never truly be able to process. 

He doesn’t even know someone can process and make peace with that. 

The twins share a look. They must know they’re defeated. In this round, at least. Cause if it’s one thing he knows about the cousins he considers more as brothers, they can be resilient and tenacious. Especially when it comes to heavy shit like this.

“Alright, man.” Josh shakes his head and slaps his thighs. “We’ll leave you alone.” It’s appreciated and both unwanted. Joe doesn’t want to be alone, per se. But, he doesn’t want his cousins, either.

He wants his wife. 

And when they walk out, the door closing behind them figuratively and literally, Joe is back to ruminating thoughts about his wife.

His wife who he’s seen mostly online in the two weeks that have passed since she was discharged from the hospital and left to be with her family. 

Joe isn’t ashamed or embarrassed to admit he’s found himself looking at footage of her via her music videos, interviews, performances and home videos. He’s reviewed old news articles that came out about them back in the day, got a good chuckle at a situation a few years back where some irrelevant rapper called himself trying to start shit with Mari that Joe and BJ handled and deaded right away.

He laughed over old text exchanges with his wife who will always be the smartest yet dumbest person he’s ever met when it comes to common sense sometimes. 

But, he’s especially enjoyed the home videos. Joe had almost forgotten just how much footage he has of her. Personal videos taken when it was just the two of them. 

Some taken by her. Some taken by him.

Memories, they’d always call them.

And they still are. 

Just haunted ones. 

Joe grabs his phone and navigates to his videos folder. There’s hundreds of them, because every time he upgrades to a new phone, he always makes sure to back up and transfer his texts, photos, and videos. For no reason other than not wanting to lose anything. Not miss out on any of the many hilarious, heartwarming moments with Ri. 

Joe picks a random video, a smile easily falling on his face as he immediately remembers and recalls what this one is. 

She’s wearing one of his Bloodline shirts, a random ball cap and a pair of his sunglasses over her eyes. There’s also a spatula in her hand as she sits on the floor in their living room in front of their flat screen TV while one of his more popular promos with Brock Lesnar plays in the background.

“You must be confused, farm boy. That title? That’s my title, and you don’t even realize cause I’m gon smash you at WrestleMania. And it’s not even your fault, Brock. You ain’t got a chance.” She’s mouthing along perfectly, facial expressions and body language in almost perfect sync with her makeshift microphone. Joe can hear his laughter in the background as she stands up, getting more into character. “This is my show! This is my ring!” She gestures off to the side. “This cameraman right here? This is my cameraman!” She gestures around the room. “These people, these are all my people, because they acknowledge me!” She then points to him. “These two right here? They work for me! This commentary team is mine because they brag and talk about me the whole time.” She then lifts her arm, pointing to the ceiling. “That sign right there? Is mine! Because I am WrestleMania! I am this show, I run this show, and everybody works for me!” She smirks, head titled. “Including the security in the ring with me.” Joe’s laughter increases as she drops the spatula and throws the hat off along with the sunglasses, also falling out laughing with him. 

Ri walks over and climbs onto his lap, asking, “That was good, wasn’t it?” Joe doesn’t hear a response on his end, but he’s certain it was nonverbal acknowledgement. 

As the video ends, he finds himself back frowning again.

Close….

They were so close.

Joe switches to a different album, photos this time, his smile returning as he opens a photo she snapped of them laying in bed. He’s clearly asleep, his arm over her body as she smiles happily.

His finger traces over the outline of her smile, a memory popping into his head.

“It’s just so beautiful.”

Joe sighs. Loud. 

It’s not often he gets time off, so these next couple days are precious and cherished. And he’d love to kick it off the right way: by getting some much needed sleep.

If only his lovely wife understood this.

Because even though it’s almost 2am, she sits beside him in their bed, emotional for no damn reason at her chosen movie: The Brave Little Toaster.

He blows out a breath. “It’s literally about kitchen supplies.” Joe then asks, confused as hell. “Why the hell you watching this anyway?”

Her answer is rushed and nervous. “Because I watched that creepy ass movie earlier today, and now I need to ease my anxiety.” 

Joe closes his eyes, turning on his back, looking at her with all the judgment. “Didn't I tell you not to watch that shit? You know your ass is scary as hell.” As soon as she started giving him a description of the movie, a psychological thriller, he knew she needed to stay far away. Ri has a tendency to overthink films like that, somehow convincing herself that whatever happened in the movie could happen to her. 

And that’s exactly what’s happened. 

“Well, I didn’t listen to you, okay!” Joe rolls his eyes. Obviously. “So, now I need to watch this soft, cute movie about these brave little utensils.” She starts sniffling. “And it’s just so sad.”

“What they do? Rust?”

“Joe!” She slaps his arm, huffing, “oh my gosh, you have no creative bone in your body.”

“Not at no damn 2 o'clock in the morning, you’re right, I don’t.” He turns back on his side, bringing the blankets up to his neck, snatching back more of the covers from his hogging ass wife. “Now I’m going back to sleep. You enjoy your KitchenAid movie.”

But that’s damn near impossible when she starts crying again minutes later, somehow louder than before. 

“He’s just so brave.”

“Oh my god.” Joe closes his eyes, rolling once again onto his back. He pinches the bridge of his nose and reminds himself that this is his best friend and his wife. He can’t grenade this. Can’t and won’t hurt her feelings by telling her to shut the fuck up, even though that’s what he would say if it was literally anyone else. “Your period must be coming because you done gone through all six stages of grief watching this damn kids movie about a fucking toaster.”

Ri gasps beside him, and he can almost feel her dramatic ass, judgmental glare. “I resent you saying that! Just because I’m a woman with feelings does not mean—“ She pauses. “What day is it?”

And before he can answer, she’s kicking the blankets off, climbing over him, and scampering to the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

Joe is barely even able to turn back on his side when she calls out from the bathroom. “Goddamnit , you man, you! You spoke it over me!”

He sighs. It all makes sense now.

Ri is just an overall emotional, theatrical ass person, but it’s always exacerbated whenever she’s on her cycle. She becomes….difficult. 

Super sensitive. 

“Shit.”

He hears her curse from the bathroom, but it’s not as loud, not as dramatic. And that’s what catches his attention.

“What?” Nothing. Nothing but the sound of the drawers being opened and almost slammed shut, like she’s in a rush of some sort. Joe kicks the blankets off and walks over to the bathroom. He knocks once, asking, “can I come in?”

She answers by opening up the door only to turn back around, clearly looking for something. “What’s wrong?”

“Damnit!” She snaps, slamming the cabinet shut. “I’m out of tampons.” Ri walks over and gestures to the few she has on the counter. “These are all light.” 

Shit. 

Right away, he sees her dilemma. There’s no way she can use light tampons for the first night of her period. And the reason he knows this and isn’t weirded out like how some men would be is simple. He grew up the only boy among four sisters, the baby of them all. He’s heard and learned a lot over the years. Some, or maybe a lot of which, he could have gone the rest of his life without knowing. But, some information, like in cases like this, have proved to be a bit helpful. 

So, it’s only natural, he offers, “I’ll run to the drugstore right quick.”

Ri turns to him, instantly protesting, “no. It’s late, Joe.” She crosses her arms and shrugs. “I can just, like, stuff a bunch of toilet paper up my vagina for tonight and pray nothing gets stuck.”

He leans against the doorway, easily shooting that down. “Yeah, with your luck, that’s exactly what’ll happen too.” He loves his Ri more than what’s probably healthy, but the girl is accident prone and the queen of freak accidents. “I’d rather get you the damn tampons than spend all night in the ER with you.”

Her not disagreeing with his prediction is telling. She knows he’s right. “Let me at least go with you. I don’t want you out by yourself this late.”

Joe would also not like to be out on the road, hitting up Walgreens for a random ass tampon run, but this is also Ri. And there’s very little he wouldn’t do for her.

If anything. 

“I think I’ll be fine, Ri.” He chuckles, walking over to her. She pouts as he kisses her temple. “You’re the one who would get kidnapped or some shit.” He laughs at his comment, a reference to the movie she watched earlier that’s got her up so wide and awake. 

She gasps, mouth dropped as she looks up with wide eyes. “See! I told you it could happen!”

Joe walks into their bedroom and throws on some sweats, a hoodie, and slides on some sneakers. He grabs his wallet, keys, and phone as Ri walks out, shuffling over to him and moving up against his chest, hugging him. “You want the chocolate?” She nods. “Milky Ways?” 

Again, another nod as she looks up. “And the—”

“Hot fries and Arizona tea. The one mixed with lemonade. I know.” 

She pouts. “Thank you.”

He kisses her forehead, murmuring, “I’ll be back.”

He walks toward the door, as she calls out, “I love you.”

Joe chuckles. “I love you too, baby.” He’s halfway down the steps when she screams out from the bedroom. 

“Damnit! Now we can’t do the nasty!”

By the end of the memory, a time so much simpler and happier, Joe has his head back, eyes closed, emotions all over the fucking place. 

She was his best friend. The person he trusted the most. More than anyone. 

And all of a sudden, it was just….gone. 

His entire view of her….gone.

Or maybe not.

Because while this nightmare of an accident has taught and shown him a lot, one of the biggest things it’s made him realize is that while his hurt and confusion and betrayal may be strong, his love for her is stronger.

It always has been.

He was just blinded by all of those other miserable, heavy emotions and too stubborn to do anything about it.

And now he’s in this extremely uncomfortable, confusing as fuck dilemma where he has to find someway to manage and deal with these emotions when they should be managed and dealt with with her.

But how can someone forgive someone for something they don’t even remember doing?

———-

Sleeping in a bed that isn’t yours anymore but once was is….weird. 

Sleeping in a bed in a bedroom that was once yours is even weirder.

But, staying in a house full of people who feel like and are, for all intents and purposes, complete strangers is the weirdest of them all.

It’s borderline uncomfortable.

Mariella understands the intentions of her parents. Sees how they think and believe her sleeping in her old bedroom could potentially stir some memories. It makes sense. But, it doesn’t work that way.

At least, it’s not working that way for her. 

And to her credit, she tries. Tries to observe and almost study the damn near wall full of photos from her childhood, photos of her with people who are both family and friends. She’s not sure if this was just how she last decorated her old room, but something tells her it’s the result of her family's continued effort to jog her memory. It seems….excessive. But from what she’s gathered, that’s also a good word to describe her personality. Extra. Dramatic even. 

If only she could….connect with that somehow. 

Stepping out of the shower, she takes her time getting ready. Doesn’t rush to get downstairs where she knows she’ll be greeted with a row of smiling, unfamiliar faces. Mariella really does feel bad that she’s having such a difficult time understanding and connecting, because for all intents and purposes, her ‘family’ has been nothing but kind and supportive.

And she knows this has to be difficult for them, but….she can’t force it. 

Even if she wanted to.

Because she damn sure does.

It would all be so much easier that way. 

Sure enough, the smell of bacon sizzling on the fire and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee isn’t the only thing that’s waiting for her in the kitchen.

Her father is the first one to lay eyes on her, his smile small but oh so genuine. “Morning, Ella.”

Mariella does her best to return the smile. From what she’s seen and heard, she’s always been exceptionally close with her dad. With her whole family, really.

“Morning.” 

Her mom turns around at the sound of her voice and entrance, also smiling. It’s bigger and deeper than her dad’s. And she doesn't hesitate to turn the fire on low, clap her hands against her apron and walk over to pull Mariella into a hug.

It’s not missed upon either woman how Mariella initially tenses. And she feels bad for that too. This is her mother for crying out loud. 

April pulls back, the sadness and slight level of rejection evident in her pretty brown eyes that Mariella realizes she inherited from her mother. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, it’s…it’s okay.” Mariella swallows, forcing an even bigger smile. “You are my mother, after all.”

April’s smile is tight, the coverup for a disappointment Mariella can’t truly understand. “How did you sleep?”

Not very good. “Fine.” She walks over to the machine, lifting the mug that she assumes belongs to her dad given the same word is written in big red letters on said mug. She reaches it to him. 

“Thank you.”

A small nod of acknowledgment as she grabs a new mug and starts to brew her coffee when April speaks from where she stands again by the fire. “I was thinking of going to the promenade today. Olivia is going too. Would you like to join us, Ella?”

Mariella doesn’t have to be looking at her mother to know that while it’s meant to be a question, it’s more of a statement. And while she isn’t opposed, much preferring to be out of the house vs in the house, home videos and photos stuffed down her throat, a true question would be nice vs being told.

“Sure,” she answers with a shrug, turning around and pulling out her phone, opening to the contact she’s found herself thinking about the past couple days. 

Joe.

Their last correspondence was almost a week ago. All limited to texts that seem rather on the dry end considering they’re supposed to be married. She doesn’t really fault him though. In his defense, he seems to be wanting to give her space vs coming on too strong.

Unlike her family.

She sighs loudly, fingers hovering over the keyboard as she debates editing, once again, the text she’s had drafted for a couple of days but hasn’t built the courage to send.

Mariella: Can we facetime or something?

It’s such a simple thing that she’s not sure why she’s overthinking. In the little interaction she had with him at the hospital, she could see that despite his size, he’s a man on the quiet side. That calmness was appreciated, and in the midst of being bombarded with information, she’s found herself missing that to some extent.

Missing….missing him to some extent.

Even if it makes no sense to her. 

“Morning, family.” Olivia’s voice rings into the air, pulling Mariella back into the present. She’s dressed to the nines, and from that alone, without even needing to be told, Mariella knows her sister is a successful woman. She just looks the part. Liv sets a smile that seems a bit off on her, red lipstick contrasting against her almost unnatural, straight, pearly whites. “Hey, sis. How you feeling?”

Such a big question that seems impossible to truthfully answer to the people who are only trying to help. “Good.” So, she lies. “I guess I’m going out with you all shopping today?”

Olivia rolls her eyes and adjusts the expensive looking designer bag on her shoulder. “Of course, you are. We’ve gotta get you back out there.”

“Olivia…” 

Olivia turns to their dad, asking, “what? She has to get back to her life eventually.”

“Leave her be, Liv.”

Olivia rolls her eyes, ignoring April and reiterates, “she needs more than just photos and videos, guys.”

Mariella doesn’t know what she specifically needs but being thrusted into social situations when she still hasn’t memorized her SSN seems to not be it either. 

But still, she remains quiet. 

“Ella.” Mariella turns to her dad, brows raised. “When’s the last time you spoke to Jo—”

“Oh, Ella, I forgot there was something I wanted to show you.” Olivia interrupts the question Mariella was already thinking about without her dad even needing to ask her.

The thing she’s still thinking about even as Olivia pulls out her phone, inundating some random ass photos from back when she was in high school.

The man she can’t seem to stop thinking about.

———-

As expected, shopping has ended up providing just another form of frustration and level of feeling of being overwhelmed.

It wouldn’t be as bad for Mariella if her mom and sister didn’t feel the need to stop and introduce her to almost everyone who’s familiar, to them, that they come across. She feels a bit like a politician, plastering on smiles that don’t meet her eyes and accepting hugs from strangers. Members from church. Old neighbors. Even an old elementary school teacher.

It’s just weird.

So much so that she eventually has to excuse herself, making up some excuse about a headache as she sits outside on a bench in front of the store where Olivia and April continue to shop.

Mariella is grateful for the solitude and uses that to once again play around with just texting her freaking husband of all people. 

She could use some of his quiet right now. 

“Mariella?”

One thing that’s improved is her ability to respond to her name, but it’s who says her name that has Mariella more stumped than anything. 

He’s standing above her, creating a massive shadow and distraction from her sending out the text she’s not exactly sure she wants to actually send. 

He’s wearing a smile that’s objectively friendly, but there’s something about it that feels….off. He’s also objectively attractive, pretty light eyes, tall, sinewy build. Facial features that seem more appropriate for a page out of Vogue vs being on this strip of stores.

“Wow. It really is you.” He scoffs and tucks his sunglasses near the collar of his shirt. “It’s been too long.”

Mariella may not know just who exactly she is, but she does know the difference between being friendly and rude. And she really doesn’t know a nicer way to say her first response other than what comes out. “I’m sorry, I don’t….do we know each other?”

The man frowns a bit. “That’s right. I forgot….” Something tells her he feels uncomfortable outright saying what’s otherwise obvious. Like the fact that she was in a severe accident that knocked the shit out of her. 

And her memories. 

“My name is Brendan. We….we dated back in college.” 

Oh.

Mariella still doesn’t know a lot about herself. Much of anything at all, really. But what she is seeing is that her taste in men is pretty damn good, because this Brendan person is far from ugly. Though it’s hard to not compare. Hard to not think about the contrast between him and Joe, her husband’s voice deep and baritone compared to Brendan’s soprano-like tone. Joe’s massive build to Brendan’s much slender one. Even the height difference. She recalls having to crane her head up to look at Joe. Brendan is a few inches taller than her but nothing significant. 

And those comparisons also have her reconsidering, yet again, keeping the text as it is right now, just drafted in her phone. Has her wondering what benefits could be gained from just sending it, seeing what he says.

“Oh.” The word escapes her head but nothing else comes out, Brendan clearing his throat.

“This may be poor wording, but you look absolutely amazing considering….well….”

“That I almost died?” He looks uncomfortable but also amused. “It’s…it’s okay. I guess it’s a compliment.”

“I didn’t realize you were in town.” He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jeans, asking. “How long are you here for?”

Hopefully not much longer.

And it’s a thought that she instantly feels bad about. This is her family, and it’s not their fault she can’t remember. Because they’re trying their damn hardest to change that. But, that’s also a part of the problem. 

It’s…..it’s too much.

She feels almost suffocated at times. 

Like now with this Brendan person. 

“I don’t know.” An honest, truthful answer followed up with more honesty. “But, I’ll be going back to California eventually.” Back to be with her husband. One person vs several who seems really great at giving her information but not too much. Largely only when she asks vs being told in heaps of overwhelming data. “With my husband.”

She doesn’t know why she adds on that last part or why she fiddles with the beautiful diamond on her left hand. The ring that she placed on her finger without much thought when given her items upon being discharged. 

Brendan’s lip twitches, his eyes flashing with something that almost looks like irritation. “Of course.” There’s definitely no denying the irritation in his tone. “Listen, I’d love for us to catch up before you leave. A cup of coffee.” Her eyes widen a bit when he adds on, “maybe even dinner—”

“Hello.” 

Another voice. This one a bit more familiar. April stands in the doorway of the store with Olivia. They both wear polar opposite expressions. Olivia is smiling in Brendan’s direction while April’s mouth is in a straight line as she moves to stand beside Mariella.

“Mrs. Holmes. Long time, no see.” The irritation is washed away, swapped out with something amiable but also….inauthentic. Mariella doesn’t know if she’s exactly in a place to be judging people or calling them fake when she doesn’t even know who she is, but there’s something….off about this Brendan character.

She doesn’t know a shit ton about Joe either, other than the basics, but right off the bat, between the two of them, she chose the right one to walk down the aisle with.

Her mom’s smile remains tight. “Maybe not long enough.” This takes Mariella by surprise. She hasn’t seen this side of her mother before. Unfriendly, almost.

Olivia, however, rolls her eyes. “Mother, please. You know Brendan also works for the same firm I’m at.” Ahh. That would explain the smile. “Excuse my mom. It’s been….a lot for all of us.” 

Now, Mariella is the one fighting back confusion. She gets that this has to be difficult for her family. For her to not remember who they are, but it’s not just them she can’t remember. She can’t remember quite literally anything. She’s the one who’s been impacted the most out of this.

She just kinda wishes they would get that more. Would respect the level of intrapersonal difficulty on her end. 

“Of course.” Brendan frowns, but again, it feels inauthentic. “Well, I won’t keep you, ladies—”

“Good.” 

Mariella bites down on her lip, turning away to hide her smile as Olivia looks straight up annoyed at April’s coldness.

“I’ll see you at the office, Brendan.” Olivia says almost apologetically, dragging her eyes back to her mom who seems completely unapologetic for her tone.

Brendan nods, landing his gaze back on Mariella. “Remember my offer, Ella.”

She can’t even find it in her to nod or acknowledge his departing message because there’s not a single part of Mariella that wants to entertain his offer let alone take him up on it. Does he not know she’s married?

It’s once he’s gone that April turns toward Mariella, a genuine smile replacing the fake one. “Sweetie, can you go wait in the car? I need to speak to your sister.”

There’s a part of her that would like to overhear this probably interesting conversation, but the desire to just be away and by herself is more overpowering.

“Sure.” She accepts the key fob and shopping bag from her mom, not hesitating to turn on her heel and head back toward the parking lot. 

And as soon as she’s gone, Olivia is on April, voice harsh and sharp. “Mother, what the hell was that?”

“Watch your language with me, child.” April’s correction is swift as she crosses her arms. “When did you plan to mention Brendan now works with you?”

“Didn’t realize I had to keep you up to date on the latest hires at my job.” She rolls her eyes, also crossing her arms. “Plus, really, mama? How was that a priority with everything we’ve had happening?”

“Watch it, Olivia.” Aprils loves all her children equally, but Olivia has always been the one to push her close to her limits. “I don’t like that boy. He’s a snake.”

“Oh my gosh…” Olivia turns away for a second, coming back as she points out, “you don’t even know him.”

“I don’t have to know him. You know why? Cause I distinctly remember Joe nearly putting him in the hospital for whatever went down between him and your sister.”

Olivia is taken back for a second. Her mom’s memory is as sharp as the best of them. “You mean when he committed aggravated assault and ruined any chances Brendan had for a basketball career?” 

April, however, is not backing down, showing just where Olivia inherited her stubborn personality. “You ever wonder why Joe reacted the way he did? How bad it must have been for him to get that upset?”

“Oh, please. Mama, let’s not act like Joe hasn’t always been a hothead. He’s just better at masking it than BJ.” And before April can protest, Olivia provides facts. “How many times did you and daddy get a call or called down to the office cause BJ got into it with someone, huh? And more often than not, who’d he get in trouble with? Joe.” Olivia shakes her head. “The only reason they always got slaps on the wrist was because they were athletes. Joe has been problematic, and I’m tired of ya’ll not seeing it.” She blows out a big breath. “Brendan is not a bad guy—”

“You saw how he was looking at your sister.” April stresses, lowering her voice. “Don’t no man have no business looking at a married woman like that unless he’s got bad intentions.”

“Ella isn’t even with Joe right now, so what’s the big deal?”

April is quiet for a moment, eyes narrowing in suspicion. “What are you up to, Olivia?” 

Olivia easily slides into deflection. “Mama, you’re always so hyper-vigilant—”

April, however, is wise and knowing. She advises with all the seriousness, “don’t think that because your sister can’t remember nothing that you can just rewrite history.”

“Mama—”

“I’m speaking.” And Olivia quiets down because no matter how old she gets, her mother using that tone will never not be able to set her straight. “Hear me, and hear me good, lil’ girl. Ella is home with us now, yes, but she will be going back to California to be with Joe because he is her husband, and her place is with him.”

———-

Spring, 2023 

“You want to what?”

Iris was already having a not so great day. Some inept, thinks he's a hot shot lawyer actually thinking that he can lowball and bully her into convincing a client to accept a deal that’s absolute horse shit.

She had to, of course, show him just why she’s the most sought after manager in entertainment. Ruthlessly.

The thought of his bubble eyes nearly bulging out of his head at her cutthroat response is almost enough for her to actually smile. A rare anomaly that happens every couple of years but is especially not going to happen after what she just heard.

Mariella rolls her eyes, again repeating herself. “I said I’ll do the tour.”

Iris knew she heard her right. It’s just the shock of it all that made her need some level of clarification. “I’m sorry, you do remember that this is a world tour, Ella, right?” And in case she forgot, Iris reminds, “you’d be on tour for nine months.”

“And?” Ella shrugs, continuing to write in her notebook, lyrics of some sort. “It’ll be a great opportunity to connect with my fans.”

“Fuck your fans, Ella.” Iris is quick and borderline nasty with it. “Who gives a fuck about them?” She sits down on the opposite end of the sofa. “I’m thinking about you.”

Iris sees the way that Ella tenses at that last part. “I’m fine, Iris.”

“Bullshit.” She then asks, almost tentatively. “Ella….have you sp—”

“No.” It’s a firm, harsh, borderline cruel shut down. A complete sentence compacted into a single word.

Iris closes her eyes. “I just think—”

“Get me the contract to sign, Iris. That’s all I need you to do.” 

If only Iris was a ‘yes’ man. “You think this shit is healthy, Ella? You’re running away.”

“I don’t need your judgment.”

“I would never judge you.” And it’s the truth. Iris may judge quite literally everyone else who walks this earth. But not Ella nor Promise Rose, her best friends since she was a child. And especially….especially not Ella. Not after…..after what happened. “But, I just—you’re not happy, Ella.”

There’s a brief second of hesitation. “I wasn’t happy before it happened, Iris.”

Voice softening, Iris calmly contradicts her, “yes, you were.” Ella closes the notebook, pushing it to the side and pulling her legs up to her chest, looking away. Even without a clear look at her face, Iris knows the emotions are brewing. “I just—I think if you tell him—”

“No!” That’s what makes Ella snap her watery gaze back on her best friend turned manager. “I—I can’t. I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to know.”

Iris closes her eyes. “Ella—”

“Have you told anyone?”

Iris is almost offended that Ella could even fix her mouth to ask such a question. Ella knows how massive loyalty and trust are to her. “Of course, not. I would never. I just….I hate to see you like this.”

For as long as Iris has known Ella, she’s always been an annoying ass ray of sunshine. Always seeing the bright side of things. Glass always half full. But in recent months, especially after that….something in her has snapped, has gone away into deep hiding. And usually, this is when Iris would gladly push Ella in the arms of her husband. He’s always been Ella’s safe person. 

Now, Iris can’t even get the two in the same room without an argument breaking out. 

They’re both just so….angry with each other.

Or maybe it’s not anger.

Maybe it’s just hurt.

“That’s why I need to get away, Iris.” Ella all but whispers. “I need….I need a new environment. I feel like I’m surrounded by reminders.” She sniffles, quickly wiping at her eyes. “I just….it hurts too much to stick around and have to constantly relive it. I—” Her voice cracks. “Please….please just get me the contract.”

“I will.” Iris doesn’t agree with this, doesn’t like it at all, but she also knows her best friend can be determined as hell. If she doesn’t handle the tour negotiations, Mariella will do it on her own and sign just anything just to get away. To escape. “But, I still think you should talk to J—”

“I hate him!” 

No one says anything. 

Iris is truly stunned into silence. In the two decades that have transpired since the beginning of her friendship, She has never known Mariella to express such strong sentiments against another human being. It’s almost against her nature. 

But to say such a thing towards Joe? Her person?

Iris now realizes just how deeply this hurt and trauma lies.

That maybe….that maybe their relationship truly is irreparable at this point. That lies, deception, betrayal, and everything else under the sun has destroyed something she once thought indestructible. 

———-

Present 

The last name Joe expected to see pop up on his phone is the exact name that’s flashing along with his contact photo for her which happens to be them a couple years back when they finally went on a long awaited honeymoon to Bora Bora. She’s in front of him, his arms around her, her smile big and wide, eyes closed as he kisses her cheek.

It’s one of his favorite pictures of them, and even after all this time, after everything that’s happened….he hasn’t been able to bring himself to change it.

Even….even when for a brief while, he thought he hated her. 

There’s a second of delay as Joe hits the green button, officially accepting her FaceTime call. 

His connection is the strongest it’s been all day because she’s almost instantly filling his phone screen.

“Hey….”

She smiles, and Joe takes a minute to take her in. The cuts and bruises on her face have almost entirely healed. She doesn’t look as pale as she was laid up in the hospital bed. Her curly hair is pulled into two space buns. “Hi. Is—is this a bad time?” She’s outside, clearly. In her parents backyard on the swing that holds a million and one memories. 

Joe shakes his head. “No.” Even if it was, it wouldn’t make a difference. This is the first time she’s called him since being with her family. He’d make whatever work if need be. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles, but it’s bitter. Almost resentful. “Overwhelmed.” 

Joe sits up more, naturally asking, “you wanna talk about it?”

“Thank you for actually asking.” Her voice is soft as she leans back into the swing, answering truthfully, “I know they mean well, and they’re just trying to help, but—”

He finds it almost too easy to finish her statement. Knowing her, her tics and whatnot has always been so easy. “It’s too much.”

“I just….” She blows out a breath. “You seem a lot more chill, and….and you ask me what questions I have instead of just telling me shit that I don’t remember and feel any sort of way about, even though I know I should.”

“It’s….it’s gonna take time.” And that’s truly a guesstimate on Joe’s end, because the official medical recommendation on her amnesia is that it’s unknown when or if she’ll ever fully restore her memories.

And he’s still so damn torn on just how he feels about that.

“I was wondering…” She looks down, pausing. This is such an unfamiliar thing for Joe. He’s not used to her being so quiet. His wife is many things, and quiet is none of them. “I know you’re on the road and stuff, but…is there anyway I can like….join you for a bit?” She quickly adds, “I don’t know if that’s even a thing—”

“It is,” he finds himself answering. Quickly. Probably too quickly. “I travel on a bus for the most part, stay in hotels for the rest, so if you wanted—”

“I do,” she also answers quickly. “I just…I think I need something different. This.” She motions between herself and the camera. “This is a lot easier than having over 30 years of history shoved down my throat.”

Joe feels for her, hates hearing the conflict in her voice, and he doesn’t blame or fault her family. They’re probably doing the best they can. It’s just….not what she needs right now.

“When…..when can I come?”

The almost desperation in her voice catches his attention, creating a sense of excitement in his stomach that’s quickly quenched by the wise reminder that she’s not coming for him. She’s coming to get away. Not that the specific reason makes much of a difference. He just wants to see her.

“When do you want to come?”

She chews down on her bottom lip. “Would tomorrow be too soon?”

His eyes widen a bit as he clarifies. “Tomorrow?”

She nods. “I’m—I’m sure I can get a flight out.”

She could, but he has a better option. “You should use the jet.”

Ri is understandably confused. “Jet?”

Joe has to remind himself yet again to approach this a bit from a tabula rasa standpoint. “You have a private jet. Through your record label.” He does too, but that’s not what’s important right now. He’s also partially confused why they didn’t take it when flying home to Florida, but it’s not a major thing. Nothing worth thinking too much about. 

She makes an ‘O’ with her mouth. “That’s right, we are, like, rich, aren’t we?”

He chuckles. “Now, yes.”

She gives a little smile, asking, “I guess there’s a story there?”

“There’s a lot of stories with us, Ri….” His voice is quiet as he clears his throat, not necessarily wanting to go down that road. “If you’re serious about coming—”

“I am.” She speaks up, shoulders dropping. “I just—I think it’d be nice to spend some time with you. Hear about that part of my life at my own pace.” He nods, understanding where she’s coming from, trying not to put too much into her comment about wanting to directly spend time with him. “Is it just you on the bus?”

“Basically. My cousins sometimes hang out, but they have their own bus, so I gladly kick them out when it starts getting late.”

She smiles, and Joe is close to screenshotting, wanting to add it to his collection when her smile dips into something else, eyes squinting. “J—Jon, right?” Joe sits up more. “And…..Jo—Josh?” He scoffs, in a partial state of disbelief and shock. “They’re….they’re twins, aren’t they?”

He nods, unable to speak. Did….did she really just remember something? On her own?

A frown falls on her face. “I don’t….can’t remember anything other than that and something….I don’t know, something about Uno?” 

Joe laughs. The best laugh he’s had in some time, since this whole nightmare began. “Before your schedule got super crazy, you’d come on the road with me, and you and my cousins always played Uno, and it always ended up being a thing because you all suck and can never agree on the rules.”

She giggles, eyes twinkling with mischief. “And what about you? Are you any good?”

He scoffs. “Better than ya’ll.” 

Her mouth drops open as she declares. “Okay, then we definitely need to play when I get there. Cause I feel like I might surprise ya’ll. Maybe I could beat you.”

Joe makes a sound. “You can try. You've never been able to beat me. None of ya’ll.”

She crosses her arms and exclaims with all the confidence. “Oh, I’ve gotta knock you down a peg. Are you always this arrogant?” She asks, head tilted. 

His correction is calm and assured. “Not arrogant, baby. Confident.” 

Her smile deepens, and Joe finds himself enjoying her company more than he has in some time. Even if it’s through a damn phone. “Yeah, well, you’ve got the looks to back it up. Let’s see if you have the talent.”

She has no idea. “Just remember you asked for this.”

“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, and they exchange a prolonged locking of gazes. “I—-that’s the first thing I’ve remembered on my own, and you….you didn’t even have to try to force it.” 

She swallows, voice softening. “I’d really like to come see you.”

He wants her to come too. More than she could know. “Text your sister. Everly. Not Olivia. See if she’ll fly out with you. If not, I’ll come. You don’t need to be traveling by yourself.”

Ri frowns. “I don’t—I was medically cleared to travel.”

“Yes, and you did so without incident because your team hadn’t announced you’d been released yet, but now the public knows you’re out. They spot you, and the fucking paparazzi will be all over you. You don’t need that.” Mariella has never enjoyed the constant flashing of lights and cameras in her face anyway. 

He doesn’t want her dealing with that on her own. “Okay.” She then asks, “Why not ask Olivia?”

Joe debates how to approach this. “Your sister and I….we’ve never gotten along. If she knows you’re coming to see me, she’ll probably decline to travel with you. Everly is more or less a flower child. She’ll be fine with it.”

It’s the best answer he can come up with in the moment. He happens to think Olivia is a certified bitch who sticks her nose where it doesn’t belong, but he would never do anything to create a biased view of how she sees her sister.

Anyone in her family. 

Ri chuckles, and he half expects her to ask why her sister doesn’t like her husband, but she instead hits him with something unexpected. “Do you know who Brendan is?”

And just like that, any relaxed state he had is ripped away with a single name. “Brendan?” She nods. “Where did you see him? How?”

She seems taken back by his questions, and he hates bombarding her, but that fucker is one person that always will be able to get Joe to act out of character. 

She honestly offers more information than he was expecting. “I—today at the promenade out with my mom and sister. I get the sense my mom doesn’t like him, but Olivia seemed friendly. I guess they work together.”

Fucking Olivia….yeah, Joe’s definitely gonna have to bite the bullet and text her. Because in no way, shape, or form does he want that son of a bitch anywhere around his Ri. And the fact that he may even be a fucking attorney or lawyer blows Joe’s mind.

That creep should be the one in jail. 

“He’s not a good person, and he needs to stay the fuck away from you.” Before she can ask anything else, he tells her, “let me know what Everly says. If not, I’ll have a flight out tomorrow morning.” He’s definitely got to get her out of there now. He wants to put and keep as much distance between Mariella and Brendan as possible, and if she remembered just why they broke up, she’d want the same. 

Mariella nods. “I—I can call her now.”

“Do that.”

She swallows. “Okay.” Mariella opens her mouth and seems to hesitate for a minute. “Thank you, Joe.”

Her thanking him feels weird, because he’s never looked for that from her. Never really wanted it really. Just wanted her. Her love. Her trust.

Getting into that not so great place, he shakes his head, reminding, “just text me whenever you find out, I’ll keep my notifications on.

This seems to please her. “Okay.” She gives him another smile. Of a parting and appreciative nature. “Bye.”

“Bye.” She ends the call, and despite him deep down knowing he should wait until he’s calmed down a bit to message Olivia, Joe’s fingers seem to move faster than his brain. 

[mcytblraufest]

MCYTBLR AU Fest: General Rules and FAQ

TIMELINE: 

May 4: Discord opens at 0:00, Artist creation starts. May 30-31: Artists with a finished piece of Art can sign up, submitting their work for claims. May 31: Artist creation period ends at midnight. June 2-4: Writers can claim art and be assigned to Teams. June 6-7: Writers who wish to be assigned a Beta Reader can sign up (this is optional) June 9-10: Beta Writers can claim writers/art and be assigned to Teams June 29-30: Check-in #1 July 13-14: Check-in #2 July 26: Writer creation period ends at midnight. Unless you have an extension, you must be fully ready to post at this point. July 27: Posting period begins at 0:00 August 2: Extension period ends. Unless you are a pinch hitter, you must be fully ready to post at this point. August 9: Posting Period ends. All work must be completely posted by midnight.

ABOUT:

MCYTBLR AU Fest is a mini reverse-big-bang event where artists and writers work together in teams to make stories and art inspired by MCYT and set in an Alternate Universe.

EXPECTATION: 

Artists must make a completed Art piece. Writers must deliver a story of at least 5k words, inspired by the art they signed up for. Dark or triggering topics or themes must be tagged for.

RULES:

You must be a member of the discord, for team matching.

Because of Tumblr, Ao3 and Discord TOS, you must be 13 to participate.

Respect your fellow participants, even when you disagree on fandom matters

You agree to work together with your teammate(s) to make a piece of art and a fic together, and link to each other's works.

All works must be MCYT-centric and set in an AU— no canon-compliance. 

No AI-Generated content.

LINKS:

Discord: Here Ao3 Collection: Here

FAQ:

What is MCYTBLR AU Fest? MCYTBLR AU Fest is a reverse minibang-type event where writers and artists come together to create fanworks centred on MCYT and set in an alternate universe from canon.

How does it work? Artists will have a month to complete an art piece. After a month, once the art is complete, they will submit the art, with information about server, characters, relationships, and any warnings they are opting into, which will be posted anonymously for writers to view and claim, first-come-first-serve. Teams are assigned by mods, and then writers will have two months of creation time to make a pice inspired by the work (minimum 5k words).

What type of MCYT is included? We welcome creations based on any SMP, whether or not they have a canon tag on Ao3. Mianite, DSMP, QSMP, Hermitcraft, 3rd Life, Lifesteal, Witchcraft SMP— it’s all welcome. 

Can I join if my Art is a Game/Web Weave? We welcome all types of art— web weave, game, traditional art, original songs, videos, etc. While the list is not exhaustive, we have outlined some of the baseline expectations for an art piece below.

What are the requirements for art? It is difficult to define precise expectations for art pieces, especially given the broad realm of things that could count as art. We are primarily looking for art that is complete to a level that you would normally post as "finished", ready to inspire a fic piece of 5k or more, containing an audio or visual component beyond the confines of the written word, that does not take more than an hour to consume. While you will have the opportunity to include your understanding of the world in things such as if the relationships depicted are romantic or not, the art piece must stand alone without explanatory text or extra worldbuilding.

The defined requirements for different forms of art are:

Digital or Traditional art: one piece, completed to whatever you would normally post as "finished", ready to inspire a fanfic.

Web Weaves: a web weave of at least ten elements, original or properly credited.

Video/animatic: a video at least 30 seconds long.

Other Art Form: other art forms such as fan games or original songs would fall under this category. If you wanted to sign up with an Other art form, you need to contact the mod team and work out what minimum expectations would be for your art.

Is shipping allowed? Yes. Because there is no broad fandom-wide consensus about how Creator boundaries are to be enforced in specific cases (whether it's okay to write beeduo as /r or /p is an obvious one, or whether it’s permitted to ship Joel Smallishbeans) or between specific fandoms (Lifesteal approach to shipping and boundaries is different from HBG is different from DSMP), the mods will not be policing any specific understanding of boundaries across the event. The event's motivating ethos is Don't Like Don't Read, in that artists will be able to specify for themselves if a given relationship is to be interpreted as romantic or platonic, and writers will choose to opt into that, and NSFW will have to be specifically opted into on both sides.

Is NSFW allowed? Yes. NSFW works are allowed, but must be opted into, both in terms of viewing art and in terms of creating fic. No one under 18 is permitted to opt into NSFW and attempts to do so will be grounds for a ban from this event and anywhere else the mod team touches. For the comfort of the greatest number of participants, and to conform with Tumblr TOS, anything with the tags Underage or Incest will not be permitted to be part of the event. 

Are major archive warnings (noncon/graphic depictions of violence/MCD) allowed? Aside from the content rules governing NSFW (no underage or incest, for the comfort of the greatest number of participants), major archive warnings are allowed. Depictions of real life horrors such as genocide and slavery are not-uncommon motifs in MCYT fics, and the mod team is not interested in legislating which types of horrors, griefs or abuses are inherently worse than others and are therefore off-limits. Because holding writing to a quality standard or saying only survivors can write atrocities is unworkable from a moderation standpoint, the three mentioned major archive warnings (MCD, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Noncon), are permitted to be included.

However, Major Archive Warnings must be explicitly opted into by the artist, and writers are free to not include Major Archive Warnings that their artist has permitted. Delivering un-asked for major archive warnings is grounds for a ban from this event. The mod team reserves the right to warn other mod teams on both the MCYT and Multi-fandom side about your bad behaviour.

What kind of an information will I provide as an Artist? How long or detailed? Artists will be able to specify

the server their art takes place on

the characters in the work

whether the relationships in the work are romantic, platonic, or could be interpreted either way

if they are okay with NSFW work

what age group of people they are okay working with

the type of AU it is

any content warnings present in the work already (i.e. gore, eyestrain, child death)

if the work is nsfw

any major archive warnings they are okay with happening in the story

common fandom themes and/or triggering content that they are okay with happening in the story.

A DNW

What sort of fandom themes will I specify? While this will not be an exhaustive list of every possible triggering concept, the mods want artists to be able to specify if they are okay with dynamics that circulate in the fandom that may be triggering or people simply may have strong opinions on, and for writers to be able to sort by that. Some of the themes include domestic abuse, alcoholism, family dynamics, pregnancy, dubcon, torture, body horror, dehumanization, child death, non-consensual touching, drugging, etc.

What is a DNW?

Artists will have the opportunity to fill out a DNW, which stands for Do Not Want. This is anything that has the potential to ruin a fic for you, and is where you opt out of content that would trigger, squick, or just render the gift unreadable for you. DNWs must be phrased politely, (so no "No foster aus because they suck and you suck if you like them"), and they must be reasonable, (so no "no blood/injury" if the art depicted shows injury, and no attempting to box someone into a specific gift beyond what is depicted in the art, so no "dnw anything that isn't a modern au where scar is a theatre teacher and grian is a biology teacher and they live in a city named hermitopia and grian has a situationship with mumbo and scarian has a rivalry at a coffee shop for the half-price muffins and jellie has psychic powers she's manipulating the muffin market with" if that is not clear from the art), and they must be specific and clear, (so no “no triggering content"), but they can be as petty (disliking 1st person) or as broad-reaching (no modern aus, no specific ships not depicted, no crossovers with specific servers or fics) as you like. Deliberately breaking someone's DNW is grounds for a ban from the exchange. 

Is Dark/Violent content allowed? As long as it is something that the artist has not opted out of, yes. For many of us, the source material that originally drew us to the fandom includes major character death, torture, murder-for-hire, death games, public executions, child death and more. The fanfiction that arose from the source material follows in that trend. We will allow dark content to be part of the event, but it must be tagged for. 

We also ask that participants use best judgement in delivering commonly triggering topics un-asked for. We reserve the right to ban people at mod's discretion for delivering unrequested triggering content, under the "do not be an asshole" rule.

Moreover, if your fic is rated E for any reason, (including violence or gore) your entire team must be 18+.

How can I get involved? You can participate in this event as a:

Author

Artist

Pinch Hitter

Beta Reader

You can even sign up for multiple roles, as long as you’re very sure you can make your deadlines!

What is a Pinch Hitter? A pinch hitter is a person who saves the day and steps in when the original creator is unable to deliver their work for whatever reason, making a new work on an accelerated timeline. You must reach the minimum word count of 5k. . 

When do I have to join the discord? You have the option to join the dicord and hang out as soon as creation starts on May 4, and if you are an artist, you must join before sign-ups close on May 31. If you are a writer, you must join the discord before claims begin on June 1st. If you are a Beta Reader, we'd ask that you join before claims begin on June 9th.

How does team assignment/claims work? We will release a document with all the art pieces linked in it, and 24 hours afterwards we will release a sign-up form. Writers will be expected to list out out a top-five of artists they want to work with, and mods will match writers with art on a first-come-first-served basis.

How does Beta Reader assignment work? Shortly after writer sign-ups end, writers who wish to sign up for Beta Readers will be able to do so. In a similar way to how writers claimed art, beta readers will be given a list of summaries and then, 24 hours later, will be able to submit a short list of fics they want to help work on. Beta readers will be assigned on a first-come, first-served basis.

What happens if there are more artists than authors, or more authors than artists? If there are more writers, some artists will be assigned multiple writers. If there are more artists, we will put in place a question where writers can specify that they’d be willing to make multiple pieces, and a (hopefully small) number of writers would be assigned multiple teams. 

What if all the artists I list have already been assigned? If every artist you wish to opt into has already been assigned, mods will contact you and ask if you wish to be matched to people who have not yet been claimed. You will then be able to choose if you wish to claim other teams, or wait and hope that there will be more writers than artists, and multiple writers on a team will be opened up. If that happens, you can re-submit your list and be assigned as a writer to one of your original artists.

I’m in [insert time zone here]. What if I’m not awake when claims open? There will be a spot to input your time zone in the discord. Mods will try to open the claims at a time that works for as many writers as possible. The art pieces will also be available for 24 hours before claims so that everyone can view them and pick out the ones that are the most interesting to them. We will aim for claims to open between 7 a.m. and 1 a.m. for as many writers as possible across all time zones. If claims fall outside that zone for you, you’ll be able to contact a mod and we’ll work out an alternative method for claims for you. 

I don’t know what time zone I’m in? Go to timeanddate.com and enter the nearest major city, and it will tell you your current time zone.

What’s a check-in and how do they work? Check-ins are there to make sure everyone is on track to finish their piece in time, and to communicate any issues with the mods! If you know that you won’t be able to check in on a specific date (lack of internet, etc), please contact the mods in advance.

How long should my fic be? The minimum word count is 5,000 words! There is no maximum word count, but we ask you to be mindful of how much you can actually create in these two months. 

If I wrote a multi-chapter work, do I have to have it all posted by the end of Posting Period? You must post your work in its entirety by the end of the two-week posting period.

What does AU mean in this context? AU stands for Alternate Universe and in this case means anything that would make the work not able to be tagged as canon compliant. Alternate endings, role reversals, complete setting or plot swaps, and crossovers all count. As this is a fest specifically to celebrate AUs, we ask that the AU be a significant and celebrated part of the work, not something that could be skipped if you aren’t paying attention. 

Can I create two fics for my artist? Absolutely! There is no maximum for number of fics you want to create, but again, be mindful of not biting off more than you can chew two months of creation time.  Can I post just the first chapter of a longer fic/Can I use AI to help me with my piece? All fics must be complete (no missing chapters or truncated scenes) and created specifically for this event, inspired by the art claimed at the beginning of the creation period. Writers and Artists must create their work themself. Works may not be wholly or partially created by generative text or art programs (so-called "AI") such as chatGPT or OpenArt.ai. Works may not be wholly or partially duplicated from other works, and may not contain substantial repeated material included in an effort to boost word count (such as paragraphs or comics panels that are copied with minor variations).

Can I sign up with two pieces of art? You are welcome to sign up as part of the fest with multiple art pieces. However, if you do so, we will ask that you prioritize which art piece you want to be matched on first, and you will only receive a match to your secondary art piece after everyone else has an writer. We’re going to proritize every particpant getting a team before we prioritize every art piece getting a team.

Can I sign up with a multi-piece art piece? If you want to sign up with a web weave that features multiple panels, a long video, a long comic, a series of connected art pieces, a song cycle, or any other more complex/more ornate work, you are welcome to. We just ask that you make sure you can complete your art piece during the month of artist creation time, and keep in mind that if your piece is sufficiently complex, that might restrict the writers who are able to sign up for your piece. But if you think you can pull it off, then go for it.

Can I sign up with a writing buddy— as part of a collab team? You are welcome to sign up as a collaborative team, either an art team or a writing team! We ask that you make sure you work together well, and when you sign up for an team, you must declare that you’re a duo, so people know that they’ll be getting multiple team members and not one. 

Can I submit an art piece that is part of a larger AU? All art pieces must stand alone, so you can't have it that your writer has to consider other art pieces to make a work. The art must also be made specifically for the event. We ask that you not submit an art piece that was made prior to the event, or one that is part of an au you've posted about so often that it will effectively de-anon you. Brainstorming or sketching early is fine.

Once my art piece is done, when can I post it? Art and fic should be posted together, during the Posting Period at the beginning of August. Once you have your art done, you'll have to hold onto it for another two months, while your writer is working.

What if I need to drop out? It is your responsibility to communicate with us if you need to drop out of the event for any reason, and we do need that communication. We know that life is no respecter of fic and art deadlines, so no hard feelings if something happens. However, we would hate for any artist to end up having no fic for their art, so please think about this if you are thinking of dropping out close to reveals. Dropping out after the last check-in without informing the mods will result in not being permitted to take part in further events run by this mod team.

I have a question not answered here? Send us an ask on tumblr, contact @antimony-medusa��on tumblr or discord!

[somnolent-scout]

To clear up a few things mentioned in this awareness post, I wanted to go into slightly more detail about it here:

The day we posted the original call-out post, multiple of us received an ask from a recently created user with a jumbled up username basically telling us that he was on a call with Cheavy and that he had run into traffic. We were extremely concerned by this message and one of us began talking to this guy. We discovered that apparently his name was Dylan and he was just a very close friend of Cheavy who was very worried for his well-being. It seemed weird, but we took it seriously. Eventually, I called the non-emergency number for a wellness check for Cheavy. They sent a team out there and then the rest of those events were played out pretty publicly on his blog.

But then we started receiving aggressive messages from this Dylan guy. At first, it was criticisms of how we acted and what we said about Cheavy. Then it was actual insults, then it was threats of blackmail. This is when I, admittedly not very appropriately, posted the "getting blackmailed xoxo" post to Tumblr containing two screenshots of the first few messages from Dylan. There was.. so.. SO much more after that. All of that is available to view in this Google photos album.

I continued to screenshot what I was being sent and once I realized something was seriously off about this guy, I stopped responding. I did not respond, regardless of whatever threats he threw at me. He seemed to be upset by this.

But then the big bombshell arrived from a mutual: Cheavy was pretending to Dylan to get our attention. We have irrefutable evidence of this claim as well, coming in the form of a screenshot from that user where Cheavy showed he was logged into this Dylan account.

Dylan was just Cheavy in a different hat.

Watching him edit a post about Dylan on his main tf2heritageposts blog three different times, only adding the "edit:" section on the third time, as he continued to unblock and reblock me while sending me various demands through the Dylan account.. it was almost hysterical. I couldn't tell if I wanted to cry or laugh or scream. It was just.. insane. The definition of insanity: Doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result.

Just wow..

Another thing I would like to clear up is that we unfortunately faced an extreme amount of backlash for our detrimental error on censoring the names of those not involved with the making of the post. This was mostly my fault, and I cannot apologize enough for the harm it caused. I understand that the Internet, especially Tumblr, is full of rotten vile people who will do anything to attack someone over miniscule shit. I apologize to those were affected by this, and I sincerely hope that our revised version will be better.

No one should have to face shit like that online. I should know, as I've been there and done that a dozen times.

Also, an additional thing that happened the night of the post, around 10:30pm I received a voicemail from Cheavy's phone number. I have had his contact and phone number BLOCKED for months. But somehow he was able to leave a very weird voicemail.

This was sent to my phone between the first few messages from Dylan and the posts about going to the hospital on tf2heritageposts.

[Transcript: Visual Voicemail format, censored name labeled as "Cheavy", plays a brief moment of silence before the words "Hi Sol!" are said in a sing-song tone. Sent on December 8th, at 10:40pm.]

Anyways, these are just some additional things I wanted to add but didn't want to clog up the awareness post with it.

[someprettyname]

✨GF FC INDIGO AWARDS 2024 PT 7✨

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11 | part 12 | part 13 | winner's list | after party

Some points to note before you move to the event visualizer : 

🟣 My anchoring style is highly energetic and bubbly so you can imagine me doing a lot of hand gestures, changing pitch and tones of my voice, moving around on the stage a lot, etc. Hehe.  

🟣 The theatre/event venue has been engineered by the best engineers of the world, with the most modern technology. The petals of the lotus can close or open to hide or reveal the night sky. It can also change its colours. For tonight, it's indigo!  

🟣 The "OUTFIT CHECK" were clicked in different places (according to where the member was spotted first) hence the different background. 

🟣 I didn't want to write too dialogues on yall's behalf but I can't really bother you with every small detail, so I hope whatever dialogues I've made up are not too out of character! 

🟣Ignore the contradiction of same blue locker entering the scene multiple times, pretend there are a few copies of each member 🥰👍🏻

🟣 Ignore the outfit mismatch in the edits (any edit after the outfit checks please, our editing skills only go so far 🙏🏻 ) 

🟣 I highly suggest that you listen to songs as you keep finding them being embedded in links for added feels and extra hype! 🔥

🟣 The performances where multiple songs have been used is supposed to be a mashup. You can imagine the mashup to be as you please! The songs I've bunched together are for the sole purpose of creating a particular vibe, so as long as to they are fulfilled it's all good! 😌🤝🏻

🟣 The posts are scheduled at a gap of 3-4 hours each, this event is going to be spread throughout 2 or more days. Feel free to go feral in the comments/reblogs/community my mates. 🔥 

🟣 I hope you enjoy this! Tagging all the attendees here : 

@glue-thief  @getosugurusbangs @bueris @soleilonthesun @galaxynajma

@sid3buns @mariyumemi @pinkinsect @refrigeratedboombursts @satosuguhastakenovermylife 

@10renz0 @simp-simp-no-mi @boinin @sharkissm @milkteansugar 

@thebestsetter @merlucide @jujutsustraycats @kurona-theshark @nskiyuriz

@asarajaa @writingonthewalls1832 @hooudie212back @sadao-tsuki @milaisreading 

@8-xnny @licoririce @rinitoshisgirl @luvingshidou  @duckydee-0

@kuro-min @gojoracle @marcsnuffy @filecurropt0 @riririnnnn 

@wroophruh @sanaexus @melodiclune

Previously on GF FC INDIGO AWARDS : 

GLITTER GALS SPREADING THEIR 🌟SHIINEE🌟 ON THE STAGE AND TO EVERYONE IN THE AUDIENCE!! 

✨OSHA✨ memers were awarded. 

Newest member showcase performance by @/8-xnny! 

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. 

Nami : MY OH MY CAN YOU ALL 🎶FEELLLL THE RHYTHM🎶 IN MY VEINS?? (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠♪ 

Nami : THAT WAS SOOOO GOOD MY GOD!! EVERYTHING FEELS ROYAL RIGHT NOW, DOESN'T IT GANG? *turns the mic to audience* 🎤

*hears loud cheering and hooting*

Nami : HELL YEAHHHHH YOU ALL BETTER KEEP THAT HYPE UP BECAUSE WHAT WE GOT OVER WITH WASN'T 50%. 

Nami : In fact, it was barely 30% ha! I am not going to reveal how many award category are left, yet. But there are certainly a LOT OF THEM. And how can there not be? You all are GRAND existences. Plainly simply just so special. 🥹❤️

*Hears a sudden cheering and clapping uproar from the audience.* 

Nami : HAHA! FACTSSSSSS I KNOW RIGHT? 😈😎 

Nami : Alriiiiight ladies and gentlemen HOOOLLD ON TO YOUR SEATS BECAUSE THIS NEXT PERFORMANCE IS DEFINITELY GOING TO LEAVE YOU !!!!SHOOK!!! 🤩😈😎😌

Nami : LET. THEM. FEEEEEL LIKE A ROYALTYYYY WITH YOUR LOUD APPLAUSE : TEAM PLATINUM PRINCESSES!!!

[ links : monster - lyrics | favourite | popular | espresso | typa girl - lyrics - choreography ]

Nami : 😙🎶

Nami : Told y'all didn't I? 

Soleil : EVERYONE LOOKS FIRED UP NAMI 🤩 NOW'S THE TIME TO MOVE TO THE NEXT CATEGORY!! 🔥💪🏻

Nami : ALRIGHT ALRIGHT! But before we move to buisness, COME ON EVERY ONE!! GIVE ME A WOOP! WOOP!  *Turns the mic to audience* 🎤

*The member in audience reply with WOOP!👏🏻 WOOP!👏🏻*

*Some members and blue lockers are so fired up they are standing and throwing their hands in air to cheer and encourage.*

Nami : PERFECT! 😌😎🔥💪🏻

Nami : LET US INTRODUCE YOU TO THE NEXT AWARD CATEGORY : GF FC INDIGO GRAND AWARDS!!! 

(*Fireworks are seen blasting on the stage and the audience bursts into applause, hootings and cheers as camera zooms past trophies.*) 

Soleil : As the name suggests : this is for the members who are the ABSOLUTE BEST at what they do. Unlike honorary awards, only ONE member can win this award for a sub category. Some awards have nominations and some are won by members who are no less than ONE MAN/WOMEN ARMY, hence no nominations. Simply gracing them with this award. Because it would be a sin otherwise.ヽ⁠(⁠･⁠ˇ⁠∀⁠ˇ⁠･⁠ゞ⁠)

Nami : That's right ladies and gentlemen, in a way or the other, these awards are nothing less than the main awards of tonight!! So who will take these absolutely ethereal trophies home tonight? 💁🏻‍♀️✨

Soleil : Well, that's a mystery for us to unfold 😌

(*They both give each other a knowing look and share a high five.*) 

Nami : Since we started the night with a note of 'not forgetting our roots', it's only fair we continue it with that. 

Soleil : PLEASE WELCOME ON STAGE, OUR BELOVED COACH WITH 70 YEARS OF EXPERIENCE AT THE RIPE AGE OF 19 : @/marcsnuffy ON THE STAGE FOR THE AWARDING OF FIRST CATEGORY. 

(*The crowd claps and cheers enthusiastically as marcsnuffy makes an appearance.*) 

Marcsnuffy : (*nods and wait for the cheers to die down before continuing*) Thank you! To be the coach of such an amazing team? Pleasure all mine! 😌

Marcsnuffy : The first GRAND AWARD that we'll be giving out tonight is THE GF FC INDIGO GRAND AWARDS FOR BEST BACKBONE TO THE COMMUNITY. 

marcsnuffy :  And I know Soleil said only one member can win this, but we have a history with bring exceptions don't we? 

(*Distant hooting can be heard from the crowd.*) 

Marcsnuffy : The two members who are sharing this award are....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Marcsnuffy : VAL AND NAJMA!!! 

(*Val gasps while Najma almost tears up, Kaiser pats her on the back encouragingly and proudly [opposed to Isagi's energetic BAM! BAM! BAM! back pats] and they both make their way to the stage grinning greatefully.*) 

Galaxynajma : When I first started Girlfriend FC I never thought in my wildest dreams that would get this big. I will forever be grateful to have met all of you this in this journey and I’m honored to be a nominee/won for these awards. 

Galaxynajma : I wish I had the words to describe how you all make me feel how this team makes me feel

Honestly I couldn’t do it without my cat kitty kisser by my side and ofc Ben and Eli

Nami, Soleil and others : 🥹❤️

Glue-thief : it has been an honour to (accidentally) become one of the founding members of girlfriend fc! i didn't know what would happen when i decided to join najma and eli with a matching profile picture, and i didn't know what would happen when i decided to make one for each character. it has been awe-inspiring watching more and more people with these profile pictures show up in my notifications, and i know i wouldn't have made so many good friends without this experience. thank you girlfriend fc for this award. i love you all.

(*Crowd breaks into huge round of applause.*) 

Soleil : oof! (*Fanning her face*) That almost made me cry. 

Nami : Well, worry not then~ 

Soleil : Hm? 

Nami : I think I got just the right performance to light you up!! 😎

Soleil : oh? 👀

Nami : 😌

Nami : HOLD ON TO YOUR HEARTS LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! BECAUSE THESE FOLKS COMING ON THE STAGE NEXT? THEY MIGHT STEAL IT!! :3 

Nami : PUT YOUR HANDS TOGETHER FOR TEEEEAAAM RADIANT RAVERS!!!! 

[ link : stereotype - choreography | ASAP - choreography | After school - choreography]

Nami : I'm a good MC guys, ain't I? 😚 I warn y'all before a performance takes your breathe away ~

Soleil : You're saying that as if that helps them with their breaths anyways. 

Nami : Hah? Are you blaming me? The ones to be blamed are our amazing performers. 

Nami : And a certain someone else too, who blows away people's mind with their beauty ~ 

Soleil : You're changing the topic aren't you? But I'll let this one slide because we have coming up on stage @/mariyumemi for GF FC INDIGO GRAND AWARDS FOR BEST MANAGER!!! 

(*A pleasant theme plays over speakers as mariyumemi comes up on stage.*) 

Mariyumemi : I think this one's pretty obvious so let's just put our hands together for....

🥁

🥁

🥁

Mariyumemi : @/licoririce!!!!

(*She gasps and Anri instantly hugs her happily before she gets up, hugging the ones on her table and making her way to recieve the award.*) 

Licoririce : It can’t be put into words how grateful and honored I am to be nominated for these award(s)! First and foremost, I’d like to thank my boyfriend/wifey, Anri Teieri, for existing! I probably would not have found out about the Girlfriend cult icons had I not been looking through your Tumblr tag. Love you miss girl 🫶🫶

Licoririce : I’d like to shout out to Riri (riririnnnn) and Kira (merlucide)...[ *Camera cuts to both of them who are then seen all hyped up and cheering for their miss manager* ].....for being the first interactions I had within GFFC. They’re consistently funny and I love whenever I see their posts on my dash. I can’t believe they nearly killed each other for my kisses!! 

Licoririce : Actually thank you to girlfriend fc as a whole ! I’ve only interacted with a small portion of the community through my askbox but I love how friendly everyone is. Drawing Blue Lock characters in a bright pink football jersey is hilarious and has gotten me to pick up drawing as a hobby again. It’s been great fun to bond over everybody’s fictional girlfriends. You guys are amazing!

Soleil : And we're glad to have such a amazing  manager as you, miss!! 🥹✨

Nami : Now then Soleil, what do we have next? (⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠♪

Soleil : Let's see. Till now, we as gf fc have had battles over beauty [*camera cuts to RIRI and KIRA who wave proudly*]...

Soleil : ...gone to space [*Camera cuts to IZZY and a feral (🤑🤪🤟🏻🔥) shidou can be seen in the background all hyped up*]...

Soleil : ...discovered the our roots and realised the family tree we are part of [*camera cuts to ISH*]....

Soleil : ...won car racing tournaments [*Camera cuts to Hooudie with a pleased looking REO in the background*]...

Soleil : ....lost out hairs and gotten it back, investigated Kidnapping [*camera cuts to a nervous yet relieved looking Kira who's patting her hair just in case*]....

Soleil : ...got kidnapped [*camera cuts to Oki whom Otoya hold protectively at the words*], and so much more. 

Soleil : BUT one thing we shouldn't forget is we all started as FOOTBALL players. And it's only fair to award those of us who are the stars on the field. 

Nami : True. True. (*nods*) 

Nami : And even though that would practically be...all of us really. Some are a god's angel on the field, contributing largely to our wins. 

Soleil : Indeed! So let's start shall we? 

Nami : ABSOLUTELY!! 🤩🤩

Soleil : well, it only makes sense if we start with GF FC INDIGO GRAND AWARD FOR BEST COACH, since we are nothing without our coach!! 

Nami : That's right! Ladies and gentlemen, out your hands together, for we have coming up on stage ASH (@/refrigeratedboombursts) to hand out this award!!! 

[*Camera cuts to marcsnuffy who has a very proud and pleased looking marc snuffy sitting beside her, with his hand on her shoulders : a gesture of proudness.*] 

ASH : Huge round of applause for.....

🥁

🥁

🥁

ASH : @/MARCSNUFFY!!!!

(*She smiles widely, hugging marc snuffy and moving on to the stage with people patting her back on the way.*) 

Marcsnuffy: Thank you all for being here tonight. Strikers, defenders, midfielders, goalies and observers, it's wonderful to see everyone come together in such an elegant and well organized event. 

Marcsnuffy : Back when it first started, this team was conformed by a mere handful of players. Today, there are over 50 girlfriend (and boyfriend!) havers amongst us. I might not even know some of you, but just know I'm grateful for each and every single one of you. 

I want to thank my not girlfriend, Marc Snuffy. He has been my inspiration for a long time and every single merit I am awarded with is dedicated to him. (Please ignore the fact I am the most hands off coach to ever exist. I don't think I've told any of you anything about the sport or anything). Literally the only man ever of all time. He's very dear to me. I also want to thank Najma for making this profile picture for me. I would not be here, amongst every other talented player at GF FC, if it wasn't for you. Lastly, I want to thank every member of this football club/group/cult. You're all appreciated, no matter what you do. Thank you for all your hard work and participation.

Soleil and Nami : THANK YOU COACH!! 🤩🔥

Nami : You might be a hands off coaching style kinda coach, but your words always motivate and encourage us!! 

Soleil : Yes Nami, indeed! I'd personally go as far as saying a huge credit of all our victories goes to her!! ❤️❤️

Nami : I know, I know! We are nothing without her 70 years of experience are we? 🤧

Soleil : No we're not. But a FOOTBALL team ain't nothing without their STRIKER either, are they? 

Nami : Oh well 😈 true that 😈

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. .·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·. 

Best striker award coming up.....stay tuned!!

[ organiser : @/someprettyname

script writing credits : @/someprettyname

proofread by : @/melodiclune

editing credits : @/soleilonthesun ]

[bluelocksource]

Kiyora Jin’s trivia

☆ Character color: Peacock blue.

☆ Birthday: 31st August.

☆ Current age: 17 (2nd year high schooler).

☆ Zodiac: Virgo.

☆ Birthplace: Fukuoka Prefecture.

☆ Family structure: Father, mother, older brother, himself, younger brother.

☆ Current height: 165 cm.

☆ Foot size: 26 cm.

☆ Dominant foot: Right foot.

☆ Blood type: A.

☆ Visual acuity: 1.2

☆ Grip strength: 55kg.

☆ Nickname: "Dance Battle Footballer"

☆ Motto: "Sharpen your blade, prepare for battle."

☆ Starts playing football: At age 2. “Before I knew it, I was playing soccer with my big brother.”

☆ Team before joining BLUE LOCK: Murasame High School Soccer Club.

村雨 (Murasame) means "village rain".

☆ Hobby: Breakdancing. "Come breakdancing with me".

☆ Favorite food: Candied grapes (budō ame). "I got addicted to its crunchy texture and juiciness."

☆ Food he dislike: Mizuna (Japanese mustard greens). “Isn't that just a leaf?”

☆ What goes best with rice: One stick of mentaiko. "Beware of overeating!"

☆ Favorite animal: Peacocks. "The difference between the moment they closes and opens their feathers are amazing."

☆ Favorite season: Summer. “It ignites my fighting spirit.”

☆ Favorite football player: Yuki Soma.

☆ Favorite song: "NIGHT DANCER" by imase.

☆ Favorite manga: Vagabond.

☆ Favorite movie: Fight Club. "Passionate film directing. Clever composition."

☆ Mushroom shoots vs Bamboo shoots: Mushroom. "I feel like bamboo shoots always win, so I’ll side with mushrooms."

☆ What makes him happy: Provocation "The thought of me crushing someone gets me excited."

☆ What makes him upset: Atrophy. "This is what makes me lose strength. Don't freak out, you pigs."

☆ What he thinks his strength is: Extremely competitive.

☆ What he thinks his weakness is: Tends to think everything is a fight. "Sorry, I can't change that"

☆ What made him cry recently: “I hit my head during breakdancing practice. I got 3 stitches.”

☆ Favorite/best subject: P.E. "I like competitive sports. You can really engage!"

☆ Weak/least favorite subject: Overall studying. "I aim for the borderline of failing grades."

☆ Ideal type: Someone who likes sports. Good at making up after fights.

☆ Number of chocolates received from previous Valentine: 7.

☆ At what age he experiences first love: 10 years old.

☆ The first time he got confessed to: “In the second year of middle school, I was confessed to by both of my twin classmates. I got confused about who was who, so I turned both of them down.”

☆ Fixation: Sweats. "I like people who are sweating."

☆ Average sleeping time: 8 hours (6.5 hours + 1.5 hours nap)

☆ How he spend his holiday: “I participate in dance battle events. Of course, I aim to win.”

☆ When taking a bath, which part he washes first: "My bottom. I loosen up while washing."

☆ What he usually buy from the convenience store: Red Bull. "I feel energized after drinking it."

☆ What will he do if he received 100 million yen: "I would return it. I want to earn it with my own hands. Money earned with blood and sweat is not just paper."

☆ At what age he stops receiving presents from Santa: 11 years old.

☆ What was his last wish from Santa: Weight training equipment. "To win fights against my older brother and younger brother."

☆ What will he do during his last day on Earth: Dance and play soccer. "I’d probably do it while crying, thinking it might be the last time."

☆ Favorite historical figure: Sasaki Kojirō.

☆ If he hadn’t encountered soccer, what will he be doing: “Breakdancing. I’d probably have won a gold medal”

☆ If he could only take one thing to a deserted island, what would it be: A sleeping bag. “I can't stand being cold.”

☆ If he had a time machine, would he go to the past or the future: The future. “I have no interest in the past. Living for the future is what it means to be human.”

note: i want to apologize in advance for any mistake made in the translation!

source: twt & vol. 26 & Egoist Bible 2.

Last updated: 28/10/2024

[ladybugsimblr]

Rolling Stone - Fall Bailey Kay, One of One

-

Shoutout to @soulsimmin for the other musical artists noted on the cover and general Team BK shenanigans. Somebody cut the check.

Article Below

Category: Baaad Bitch

10.59pm The initials BK pop on the screen indicating Bailey Kay has joined the Soom call. The camera flashes on and my heart skips a beat. I hear her soft but firm voice say “Kiss” and another face appears in the view. Bailey’s husband Quinton leans in for a kiss as requested. The two quickly exchange “Love you’s” and adoring looks and then he’s gone as fast as he appeared. Bailey Kay turns to me and I now have her undivided attention. She flashes that gorgeous smile and my heart skips a beat again.

“Sorry. Hi! Thank you for agreeing to meet with me this late. I hope you’re a night owl too.” Absolutely not. I’m normally in bed by 10pm, but who says no to the Queen B when she agrees at the last possible second to her first interview in ages. I awkwardly reply “I am tonight!” and she laughs, exclaiming “I like you!” Phew! Any remaining tension and nerves are gone. Let’s get into this.

Channeling my glitteriest of kitties I jump right in and ask “Where are the visuals? We the butterflies are begging for the music videos and performances.” Honestly I expected a glare or an eye roll in return, but I get a sly smirk instead. “You are the visual”

I instinctively look at the small image of myself on the screen thinking I did too much with my look for this call. Bailey must have sensed my confusion and continues: “Butterfly is about celebrating life, love, and freedom, overcoming struggles and transforming into your best, highest self. I didn’t want to dictate how anyone experienced those things with the typical visuals. But I did want to get the party started so I gave you the first step- the music.”

“So you dropped the album and bounced to let us party and figure it out for ourselves?”

“You are funny! But yes, kinda. And look what happened! You all started your own challenge and created the visuals, and all I had to do was sit back and watch. Also I really didn’t leave y’all empty handed. I thought we killed it with the pics in the Butterfly Box. But I can’t forget the hive is the hardest to please and I love that. Keeps me on my toes.”

“Ok, I see the vision, but why literally leave the country and go on vacation during an album rollout? That’s unheard of!”

“Ok two reasons. The first is that was what I needed to do. That was my way of celebrating. I told my baby girl that putting out an album was like graduating. I fought hard to overcome my own issues and dark places and now that the project was out to the world, I needed to release and just be with my family, my babies.”

“And the second?”

“Because I can. I’m THAT girl! Deadass!” Again with a smile and a laugh. BK might be the nicest bad bitch I’ve ever met.

“What do you say to the critics who say the album is going to fail? There are rules to the game if you want to succeed.”

“I say check the streaming numbers and sales.” That eye twinkle and smile return one more time. “Rules are meant to be broken. Sometimes. Note to self: Redact that line before my terrors read this. But seriously if we did the same thing, the same way, every time, art, music, life would all be extremely boring. Tackling the unheard of and never been done before is my shit. I live for that. As far as succeeding… I’ve been lucky enough to have more success in my entertainment career than I ever dreamed of. Whatever I do from here on is the extra sauce and will not be measured by industry standards.”

“Speaking of the future, what more can we expect for Butterfly? Please say tour.”

“Ha! Ummm performances are coming. It’s time for me to party with the butterflies.”

“Ok, will they be on multiple stages in cities near all of us?”

“I can't with you! But I can say I’ll perform songs from Butterfly and the rest of the catalogue, on stage, soon. Stay ready.”

And ready we will stay. Ready for the Queen BK. One of One. Number One. The Only One.

[farm-witches-fic-recs]

Farm witch friends, you have done the coven proud.

We've got so many good recs it's going to take a few weeks to share them all!

Starting with these that were recommended more than once, if you haven't spend some time with these fan favorites, you should check them out now! And leave the authors some love, of course.

========

Everyday Magic (houdini74/@mostlyinthemorning)

Each magic story is so unique, so sweet, so... D&P! 

I couldn’t pick just one of these wonderfully variable scenarios that all include just a little (or maybe a lot of) magic added to the perfect scene setting and banter. 

Favored Nations (@blueink3)

ALL OF IT! It’s my go-to when I’m feeling down, when I need to revise our boys. The characters, writing, and plot are all amazing. 

Amazing world building, very in character slow burn.

The ultimate slow burn, the perfect love story set amongst the wonders of Broadway and NYC.

It’s just so, so good!  I am a sucker for secret romance fics, and this one has that and so much more.  Add in some Shakespearean theater with a twist and just the right amount of angst and sexiness, it’s just perfect! I love it so much.  

This author knows David, Patrick, and the NY theater world inside and out. The volume and level of specificity, volume, tenderness, anxiety, and love of these characters and worlds is astounding. The characterization is so vivid, it's the easiest fic to forget isn't canon.

Fifteen hundred miles (morehuman)

I go back to this fic a lot! I just love the idea of them both challenging themselves and finding out what they are capable of.

The most incredible journey, a gift to go along with them in it.

I carry these heart-shapes only for you (@ladyflowdi and @ships-to-sail)

I love this transportative, visual feast of historic fiction. Luscious WW2 Paris is so vividly portayed and David’s wild, wealthy, LGBTIQ+out flamboyance juxtaposed to the farm-boy turned military-man Patrick is sexy and sweet. It undoes me every time. I actually first came to the piece via FairManor’s outstanding podfic. Both the text and the podfic are high art. It’s not just one of my favorite fan-fics. It’s one of my favorite stories of ALL time in any genre. I read/listen and I am at the Gaston, riding on the back of Patrick’s motorcycle, kissing in windmills, eating crepes, touring junk shops & dancing naked to 40’s blues. I’d give anything to see this as a film with Dan & Noah & cast. I want a leather bound print copy of it. Also - The epilogue is progressive, heartbreaking thoughtful genius. I’ve just finished rereading & listening to it again. Each time there are new Easter eggs to be found. Joyous. 

It's just the most beautiful piece of writing ever written. Descriptive, lyrical, hot, stunning, heartbreaking. It has everything. 

I’d swing with you for the fences (@nontoxic-writes)

Achingly sweet and fluffy all set in the perfect baseball/famous AU with secret relationship AND musician Patrick. I come back to reread this one a lot!

What isn't there to love?  Baseball, long distance relationship, sex, songs, coming out to the parents, coming out to the team, coming out to the world, excellent use of side characters....I could go on and on.  There are so many amazing fics out there, but I've read this one at least a dozen times! 

Incorrect (@lisamc-21)

You can hear David saying it, but now picture the Maldives.

A beautifully written story of our boys meeting on vacation. Their trip is so sweet and so hot, and when they say goodbye, it's heartbreaking. The twist- they are both famous in their own worlds but don’t recognize each other so don’t realize who the other has hooked up with. When their week ends, they try to maintain a long-distance friendship as they learn who the other is. What was a hot hookup becomes a slow burn, and it’s amazing!!

The Last Rose Video (@distractivate)

Gorgeous writing, the perfect mix of canon and AU, clever plot, great dialogue.  The fic I read over and over.  It’s as comforting as a warm blanket. 

Swoon. SWOON.

Strike Anywhere (@madlori)

Hot firefighters. Hot sex. Hot romance. But like in a Sandra loves Keanu sliding out of a speeding bus kind of way.

Hot hot hot!  That’s the first work. Then- the author developed a prequel that is also hot but is also funny, loving, sweet. Love fireman Patrick!

This enemies-to-lovers-to-secret-husbands story featuring Patrick Brewer as a firefighter, is deliciously tropey and blazing hot, but also it’s written with such authentic emotion and perfect banter that it keeps me coming back to read it whenever I need a mood lift. 

Such great heights (@likerealpeopledo-on-ao3)

Great story, the very best jokes, and the wedding date chapter is so good it would work as a stand alone fic. 

It's got the mother of all fake dating scenarios, and Stevie in this in among the best I've ever read her. It's also very very funny. All the times when they say Feel The Air crack me up every time!

Sustineo (@rockinhamburger)

This is a perfectly paced one-shot AU that builds a world in which David is a brilliant, stormy, reclusive artist whose whose treatment by the press (and one Sebastien Raine) has made him unwilling to engage with the world…. Until he meets an intuitive and kind art writer who sees him for everything that he is (and can be). All of characters here are perfect and I love the descriptions of David’s art. 

Incredibly hot art fic.

You can fall (sweetsirius/@wordthieve)

It takes the David and Patrick rescue each other theme of the show and makes the stakes even higher. Plus it's just a genuinely beautiful piece of writing.

The story arc and pacing are fantastic. I love how David and Patrick's relationship develops and how Patrick learns to open himself up again after grief. It's incredibly well written. I've read it so many times, from full read thrus to dipping in and out of my favorite moments and chapters.

Patrick is so heartbroken, but then he meets David. So romantic, and feels lived in.

[sstar-ggirl]

The Lights shine brighter when you’re there.

Pairing: Alex Turner x AFAB!reader (but u can read as wtv u want)

Word count:1081 (this ain’t a blurb ts a fic atp😭💀)

Summary: filming for TBHC, 2018 era, super cute fluff shit

Mars rambles abt things: AIGHT SO I NEED THIS MAN TERRIBLY BAD. ESPECIALLY TBHC ALEX😭. Anyways I wrote a cute little fluff fic for the first time in forever bc I had time(FINALLY) anyways I’ll try to write as much as I can.

The set was abuzz with anticipation as Alex Turner prepared to film the music video for his latest album. Surrounded by a team of producers and filming crew, he couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement for this particular project. The album was a supposed to be “a playful tune, super smooth but makes you feel expensive”he said when you asked about it. It carried a personal touch that resonated deeply with him – and he had the perfect person to share the screen with, his girlfriend, you. His most prized possession, something he wants to show off forever.

As the cameras started rolling, the set was transformed into a mesmerizing, eye catching jazz bar. The director, recognizing the unique connection between Alex and you, aimed to capture not just the essence of the song but also the genuine emotion shared between you two. The first scene unfolded in a dimly lit but well decorated jazz bar, the air heavy with the lingering notes of the melody.

Alex, dressed in his signature 70s style, met you in the center of the set, dressed in a tight black dress with a long slit in the side, black heels with gold accessories. There was an unspoken understanding between you two, a silent agreement to let the music guide the movements. As the haunting notes filled the room, you two moved with a fluidity that spoke of a deep, unspoken connection. It was more than just a regular dance; it was a dance of the heart.

The director, observing from behind the monitors, couldn't help but marvel at the chemistry on display. The raw emotion conveyed through his and your expressions painted a vivid picture of love and longing. The first scene wrapped, leaving everyone on set with a sense of anticipation for what was to come.

During a break, Alex and you found a quiet corner to steal a moment away from the commotion. You two shared a deep hug and kiss, acknowledging the magic that was created by you two. As you two broke from the kiss, Alex couldn't help but express his gratitude for having you by his side.

"(Y/N), you brought something special to this video, in fact this whole album – something only you could inspire. It's like the songs, the lyrics, the melodies come to life when you're here, or at home or sitting in the studio waiting for me to wrap up. You are truly the muse for my art." he confessed, his eyes reflecting sincerity.

You grinned and blushed, "Well, I happen to think your music brings out the best in me too, Alex. This is a great masterpiece in every sense."

As the day progressed, the scenes became more diverse, each one telling a different chapter of the song's story. From a rooftop overlooking the casino to a dimly lit jazz bar to the pool setting, the couple seamlessly transitioned from one setting to another, their connection intensifying with each passing frame.

The highlight of the video was a sequence where Alex and you found yourselves dancing under a canopy of fairy lights. The soft glow accentuated the tenderness in your movements, creating a visual poetry that mirrored the song's emotional depth. The crew watched in awe as the couple moved through the enchanting scene, your silhouettes etched against the twinkling lights.

As the day drew to a close, the final scene approached. The director wanted to capture an intimate moment between Alex and you that would serve as the emotional climax of the video. The setting was a quiet, candlelit room – a metaphorical space where their love could unfold without any distractions. A safe haven that hides all troubles and shows your true self to eachother.

The room was adorned with vintage furniture and flickering candles, casting a warm glow on as you two stood face to face. The soft strains of the song echoed in the background, creating a cocoon of intimacy around you. The director, satisfied with the day's work, whispered instructions to the cinematographer, signaling the start of the final scene.

With a subtle nod, the cameras began to roll, capturing the delicate nuances of the couple's expressions. Alex gently reached for your hand, his touch conveying a silent reassurance. His eyes locked, and in that moment, the world outside the set ceased to exist. It was just the two of them, immersed in the emotions the song evoked.

As the lyrics unfolded, Alex sang with a soul-stirring resonance, his voice intertwining with yours in a beautiful harmony. The vulnerability in your eyes told a story of love, heartbreak, and the unspoken promise of togetherness. The director, realizing the magic happening before him, chose to let the scene unfold organically, without interrupting the flow.

The room seemed to disappear, replaced by a realm where only your emotions mattered. Alex's thumb traced gentle circles on your hand, a silent gesture of comfort. Your closeness spoke volumes, transcending the scripted nature of the scene. It was a genuine moment, an unfiltered expression of the love they shared.

As the last notes of the song lingered in the air, the director called for a cut. The crew erupted into applause, acknowledging the authenticity and beauty captured in that final scene. Alex momentarily pulled out of that intimate bubble, shared a knowing smile, proud of the art you two had created together. You couldn’t stop staring at him falling deep in love within each second.

With the filming wrapped, the couple found themselves outside the studio, bathed in the soft glow of the evening. The air was crisp, and the city lights twinkled in the distance. They walked hand in hand, reflecting on the day's journey.

"I can't believe we did it," you exclaimed, your eyes sparkling with a mix of joy and exhaustion. Alex grinned, "It was magical, wasn't it? Having you by my side made it even more special. You’re really a present full of surprises aren’t you"

Later on, after leaving set, you two continued to stroll through the quiet streets, savoring the post-production bliss. The city seemed to have slowed down just for them, allowing them to relish the shared triumph. The music video, a testament to their love and collaboration, was destined to become a visual masterpiece.

Days later, as the video premiered to the world, fans and critics alike were captivated by the palpable chemistry between Alex Turner and you, (Y/N) (L/N). The comments flooded in, praising not only the song but also the genuine connection that elevated the video to a realm beyond ordinary music visuals.

In interviews, Alex and you shared snippets of their experience, emphasizing the organic nature of the collaboration. The music video, now a symbol of their artistic minds, resonated with audiences on a profound level, leaving an indelible mark on the hearts of those who watched it.

As the applause echoed and the views skyrocketed, Alex couldn't help but feel a sense of fulfillment. His journey- no Your journey together, from the studio to the screen, had not only produced a beautiful piece of art but had also strengthened the bond between eachother. The music video became a cherished chapter in your love story, a visual representation of the magic that happens when two hearts beat in perfect harmony.

[bunnymajo]

Wing Girls: An early example of an all female transforming hero team

We've all heard the take that in 1992 Sailor Moon is the first anime to focus on an all-female super heroine show akin to "Super Sentei" or "Saint Seiya", aimed at girls, and that is true. But I want to talk about another very early example I've never seen mentioned: The Wing Girls, a plot element that shows up about midway of the 1984 shonen anime "Yume Senshi Wingman"

Yume Senshi Wingman is a show very aimed at teenage boys. It focuses on Hirono Kenta, a huge tokusatsu nerd with his own hero persona, Wingman. He's chosen and gifted with the Dream Note that can make anything he draws in it come true so he can become Wingman for real and defeat and evil organization from taking over his world. Another big point about Wingman is it's focus on love triangles and fanservice, between Kenta's ladylike classmate Miku and the more bold and flirtatious Aoi, who is a resident from the world that the Dream Note came from

The opening visually explains I think what kind of dynamic they were going for here: (also if nothing else, the music in this show is really good)

In episode 33, Airing on November 13, 1984 - Kenta and his classmates are visiting a shoot of a liveaction henshin hero episode. Agents from the evil organization are rumored to be part of the cast and Kenta's not able to focus his attention on it, so the female classmates who know his secret are given their own special forms in case something goes wrong and they need to step in

Enter the Wing Girls, consisting of Aoi, Miku, along with his other classmates Momoko and Kumiko

More of a backup squad to Wingman himself, they're still given similar abilities to instantly change forms with the power of the dream note and enhanced physical abilities for punching and kicking

They make a few other appearances throughout the show but this is their big solo moment. They even get their own theme song on one of the drama CDs, and figure merch in 2009.

I just think they're a neat little part of magical girl history.

Side mg history in case someone brings it up:

The idea of female super-hero magical girls as main characters goes as far back as the early 1970s with "Suki! Suki! Majo-sensei" and "Cutey Honey" and continues to sporadically appear through the decades. But these only focus on one heroine compared to an entire team.

Another early cited example of a mg team is the Studio Pierrot crossover special "Majokko Club Quartet: Alien X from A Zone" a direct-to-video special from 1987 that shows the heroines from Pierrot's line of magical girls: Creamy Mami, Magical Emi, Fairy Persia and Pastel Yumi, team up against alien invaders and parodies sci-fi tokusatsu tropes in the process. While the original TV series are all aimed at children, and the special is still within the realm of SFW, I would argue this OVA is more aimed at adult fans of the series due to its content and release format. So that's why I tend to not think of it on the same level as Sailor Moon.

[writeforfandoms]

Warrior Song 10

Find the series masterlist

Well here we are. Getting to some actual plot. This is entirely speculation and, again, I play fast and loose with canon so. Keep that in mind.

Warnings: Brief violence, we're going beyond canon now, Blue Team in danger, shit's going down

Word count: 1.5k

Two days later found the entire team back on the Pelican, on your way to the next objective. Another part of the installation, Joy had told you. One they hadn’t visited yet at all, and were hoping would reveal more information. 

Honestly, you were expecting this would be like every other time Blue Team went - you and Fernando would mind the Pelican and shoot the breeze, Blue Team would do their thing and come back with questionable stains on their armor, and off you’d go again. 

But not this time. 

“Echo-216.”

“Here, Chief.” 

“Is the LZ secure?” 

“Yeah, all quiet here,” Fernando confirmed. “Need a pickup?” 

“We’re heading your way,” Chief said without giving an actual answer. 

“Copy that.” Fernando looked a bit puzzled. Understandably so. That was something new. 

“What do you think that’s about?” you asked quietly, leaning your weight against the back of his seat. 

“Not sure.” Fernando frowned out the front viewscreen of the Pelican. “At least he hasn’t thrown himself off something this time.” 

You snorted and shook your head, sinking carefully into the copilot seat. “This time.” 

Fernando tapped his fingers on the control panel before he glanced at you. “Ever flown one of these before?”

“Me?” You snorted. “Absolutely not.”

“Want to learn?” He smiled, but there was something more in his eyes. 

“Fernando…”

“Never hurts to learn a new skill, right?” He tipped his head at you, waiting to see if you tried to defy his logic. 

You puffed out a breath but obediently watched as he fired up the Pelican, explaining to you as he went. 

Fernando hit the button to lower the ramp. “Let’s go see what Chief found this time.” 

You got to your feet carefully and made it to the main area. Fernando hovered next to you but let you pace yourself, which you appreciated more than you could say. 

Blue Team walked on board and Chief immediately made for you and Fernando. “We need to go.”

“Made a few new friends, big guy?” Fernando asked, even as he threw himself back into the cockpit and into his chair. 

“Not exactly.” Chief stopped next to you, one heavy hand on your shoulder guiding you to sit. 

“We found evidence of activity further in the ring,” Joy piped up. “Recent activity.”

“Could be more Banished,” you murmured, though you frowned.

“Or worse.” Chief didn’t say anything else as the Pelican lifted off. 

A quick glance showed Fred, Kelly, and Linda all sitting, though they were all on alert. 

You clenched your jaw as the thought of worse caught up with you. Well. That could definitely be bad. You swallowed hard, glancing at Chief. But he didn’t show even the remotest sign of nerves. Which, honestly, of course he didn’t. Especially not with the helmet on. 

“It will be fine.” Chief kept his voice low, for the two of you, his hand squeezing your shoulder lightly. 

You nodded once but didn’t reply otherwise, brow furrowing. His confidence was bolstering, but not quite enough to keep your worries at bay. 

The trip was otherwise silent, although you could hear Fernando and Joy talking quietly in the front. You just focused on breathing. 

“We’re here.” Fernando’s statement was quiet but it didn’t matter - everyone heard him. The Pelican landed with only a little bump. 

Chief was the first off, gun in hand, sweeping the area visually. The rest of Blue Team followed, and you went only as far as the end of the ramp, looking around.

Like the rest of the ring, this place was beautiful, with long grass and trees, studded with rocks. It was almost peaceful, except for the tension the team carried with them. 

But you could see a cave entrance up ahead, a faint blue light coming from within. That must be part of the Halo structure, leading inside somewhere. 

A hand fell on your shoulder, not as big as John’s but just as comforting. “They’ll be fine,” Fernando murmured to you, standing next to you. “They’re Spartans! And they’ve got Chief!”

“They’re human too,” you murmured back, twisting your fingers together. “I just… worry.”

“Yeah.” Fernando sighed, squeezing your shoulder. “So do I. They need people to worry about them, I think. Keep them human.” 

“Good thing they’ve got us,” you agreed, tipping your head to smile at your friend. “Well. Let’s see what we can get done while they’re hunting, hm?” 

Fernando shot you a grin and nodded. A couple hours passed in companionable work. 

And then the ground started shaking. 

Fernando slammed himself into the pilot seat, hitting the button for the COM. “Chief, what the hell is happening?” 

“We found the Endless,” Joy spoke, sounding anxious and a bit distracted. “But not just them.”

“Get to a safe distance,” Chief interrupted. 

“Copy, Chief.” Fernando started up the Pelican, and you more or less plopped into the copilot seat. “Hold on, this might get bumpy.” He handled the controls like a pro, guiding the Pelican up away from the ground and further away. You held on tight to the safety straps, watching below you to see what was going on. 

The ground below cracked and split open. For a moment, you had the wild hope that this was the worst of it.

And then things started to fly up out of the crevice, which was slowly growing larger as the ground gave way at the edges. Most of them ignored you, flying off in one direction.

But a few turned to look at the Pelican, drifting closer. 

“Shit,” Fernando breathed, eyes wide. “Hang on.” He turned the Pelican sharply and retreated. 

“Think they’re following us?” you asked quietly, as if speaking too loudly would summon them.

“Just two.” Fernando clenched his jaw, hands tight on the controls. “If they’re what I think they are, we’re in trouble.”

“Well… I’ve gotta warn you, I’m not the best shot.” Your own hands clenched around the straps and you swallowed hard against the rising fear. 

“We’ll figure something out.” Fernando swerved the Pelican around a cliff, clearly hoping the two followers would get bored and move on. Almost idly, you noted that some of Chief’s relentless determination must have rubbed off on Fernando. 

With a triumphant noise, Fernando maneuvered the Pelican into an alcove in the cliff face. You both held your breath, hoping the two would ignore you, or miss you altogether. 

For once, luck was on your side. The two moved away, back to the others, which Fernando silently pointed out to you on the screen. 

And you both sagged into your seats. 

“That was too damn close,” Fernando breathed. 

“Can we wait here? Safely, I mean.” You levered yourself upright to get a better look around the alcove. It wasn’t much bigger than the Pelican, really, at least from what you could see. 

“Think so.” Fernando shrugged, the corners of his mouth pinched. “We’ll find out.” 

The Pelican set down with a bump, and you grimaced. Still wasn’t your favorite way to travel, but it was sometimes convenient. 

Without a word, Fernando stood, motioning you with one hand to stay put. You watched outside carefully, gaze flicking back and forth to the scanner, while he rummaged around in the back. There was a soft swear or two, but other than that, just quiet. 

He sat next to you again and held out a gun. A handgun of some kind - you were far from an expert. “Do you know how to use this?”

“Yes.” The answer felt ripped from you, but your hands didn’t shake as you took the gun, double checking the safety. “Like I said. I’m not a great shot. But I know how to shoot.”

“Let’s hope we don’t have to use these.” Fernando kept hold of his own gun, shoulders tense, mouth a thin line under his beard. 

“Think they’re okay?” you asked quietly after several long minutes of tense silence. 

“They have to be.” Fernando rolled his shoulders, staring outside. Not that there was a lot to see - grass, rocks, trees. Not much else. 

Neither of you spoke again until Joy contacted the ship. 

“Fernando, we need a pickup.” 

“Right, okay, I’ve got a lock on your location.” Fernando moved quickly and confidently, getting the Pelican moving again. “Everyone okay?” 

“For now.”

Foreboding slithered down your spine like cold water, and you wordlessly got up and moved to the back to drag out the medical supplies. 

“What the hell happened?” Fernando asked, pushing the Pelican to go faster. 

“It’s… I’ll explain when we’re all on board.” 

“Copy. We’re a few minutes out - are you secure?” 

“We’re okay here for now.” 

You swallowed hard when the Pelican juddered a little under your feet but you refused to move. You had potentially injured Spartans to tend to, after all.

[bookqueenrules]

Tunnels, Hallucinations, and the Yellow Door: A Convergence of Signs in DD 2 Episode Six

Hallucinations, tunnels, and the color yellow have all been used to symbolize reunions in the TWDU.  According to leaked script pages if you haven’t seen them here is a post with the name of the poster who originally posted the pages. In episode 6 of DD2, Daryl, Carol, Codron, and a couple named Angus and Fiona are in the Hoverport Tunnel which connects France and Great Britain. There is a toxin in the tunnel which soon has them hallucinating.

I believe this shot is of the glowing walkers in that tunnel and you can see the yellow door just off to the right.  

Codron hallucinates his dead brother, Michael. Carol hallucinates Sophia, and Daryl hallucinates Isabelle. The common denominator symbolically with all three are people they couldn't save. For the FIRST TIME since her “death” in Season 5, Daryl will say Beth’s name in that tunnel. Yes, it will be with Merle’s and Glen’s, but he has mentioned both of their names since their deaths.  He has never said Beth’s. The fact that he says her name again for the FIRST time in a decade, in a tunnel with prominent yellow doors, while in the midst of a hallucination is a TRIFECTA of reunion symbolism.

I am sure that many other of the brilliant TD theorists have written about these over the years. I just want to bring up some examples of hallucinations, tunnels, and the color yellow, symbolizing reunion in light of the episode 6 spoilers. I believe that anything that happens with one of Gimple' s "super couples" is especially significant, so Maggie/Glen and Rick/Michonne reunions will especially foreshadow the Daryl/Beth reunion.

Daryl’s hallucination in the tunnel parallels Michonne’s hallucinations in “What We Become”. JUST before discovering evidence that Rick is alive, Virgil gives Michonne a hallucinogenic tea. Michonne doesn’t hallucinate Rick or even about Rick but rather what would have happened to her if she had not found Team Family.

Daryl hallucinating Isabelle in episode 6 seems to be about the people whose loss haunts him the most. He tells Isabelle, “If you see Merle, or Beth, or Glen, tell them I tried.” To me this implies that he has been trying to honor their memories. In Merle’s case, he tries to honor the sacrifice he made for Team Family.  

Another example of a hallucination preceding finding someone once thought to be dead, is in “On the Inside” when Connie hallucinates due to lack of sleep just before she is found by Kelly and Carol. Carol finding Connie before Daryl will, I believe, parallel her encountering Beth first just like Grady.

The fact that Daryl is hallucinating in a TUNNEL is also significant as a precursor to a reunion. In Season 4, after being separated during the fall of the prison, Maggie and Glen are reunited in a TUNNEL. 

Daryl’s reunion with Leah(the anti-Beth) is another example. Daryl comes out of the D.C. Metro, an underground tunnel, and soon after sees Leah again for the first time in years. 

.

If the convergence of those two signs weren’t enough, we have a third. This yellow door below is part of the tunnel set as seen above, but this BTS pic shows more detail.

The yellow jeep was seen multiple times and places on the DDS2 set.  In trailers we see Genet in it, but it could be used by Daryl/Carol at other points in the season. Since the jeep first appears before Daryl and Carol reunite, it could symbolize Daryl and Carol’s reunion. However, all of the episode 6 symbolism indicates another reunion soon to happen.  In TOWL episode four, the song "Tie a Yellow Ribbon" by Tony Orlando and Dawn is playing. Traditionally, a yellow ribbon is tied to a tree in front of someone's home as a visual reminder of a loved one who is gone(not dead) that you would like to remember(usually someone serving overseas in a war). Once Michonne and Rick reunite emotionally, they leave together in a yellow truck intent on reuniting with their children.

Of course, yellow is strongly associated with Beth because of her polo shirt and the sunshine drawings all around the prison which were featured prominently in the WHWGO the episode after Coda.

****New spoiler ish stuff: According to Sarah Rowan on X, the first sets in Spain are being designed to look like England. So, if accurate, it would seem that Daryl and Carol walk through the tunnel and end up in Great Britain.  Season 3 may start in “England”, but quickly move to Spain. Zabel said in an interview that Daryl and Carol wind up in Spain due to some “cool and compelling” reasons. Regardless, based on the symbolism, whatever happens on the other side of that tunnel will lead Daryl to his reunion with Beth.

On a side note, I’ve seen some in the fandom worried that Emily is not in Spain right now.  Remember that she spent months in Europe this Spring.  I speculate that she was filming some for season 3. I wouldn’t expect her in Spain until about 4-6 weeks into filming, and even then, I am sure they will try to hide her.  It takes roughly 3 weeks to film an episode, and I am sure that much of episode 1 will be Daryl and Carol and how they get to Spain. 

[supakixbabe]

Ah, hello. I welcome you back to your normally scheduled program of me deciphering what I think is happening within a wrestling storyline by concluding all context and visual representations. It’s a little something I call, “Kayfabe With Laura.”

Today’s topic: Hangman’s Redemption Story; Is Hangman Okay?

The answer is: No.

By now I’m sure you all have either come to the conclusion ‘Hangman’ Adam Page is either a face, heel, or justifiably morally gray before he returned and after he returned. Let’s break down Hangman’s vignette that was shown on AEW’s Saturday night program, Collision. The vignette showed Hangman sitting alone in what is to be believed to be his living room while movers are packing up his things and moving them to what we now know is where he relocated to. Followed by his favorite artist Orville Peck playing ominously in the background. While I can’t decipher the Peck song, I can give you my thoughts on what I think it means.

The song is, “Chemical Sunset” by Orville Peck. There’s a line in his song that goes: “I can see it in your eyes, you're not afraid to die.” And what I got from that is Swerve and The EVPs took everything he had. Made him hate who he is even more than he already does. This man is no longer afraid of the consequences of his actions and will go down swinging. He wants Swerve Strickland, that is his main goal. Swerve broke into his home and went into the presence of his kids' nursery to threaten them both. And Hanger being a family man, you just don’t screw with other people’s families.

We all noticed his shirt. It was the same shirt he wore when he was kicked out of The Elite the first time. The same shirt he went drinking his sorrows in. People are convinced Hangman is on a warpath for the championship, but I’m here to tell you it’s a lot more than that. Sure, he’s consumed by needing that gold strap around his waist; he feels like that will solve all his problems and he’ll be whole again, but he mainly doesn’t want Swerve to have it. Swerve went to depths no man should ever go to with another man, and Hangman wants his redemption, but not just for him, but his violated family.

Hangman lost to Swerve three times in their rivalry, the fourth was a triple-threat at Revolution 24’ so I can’t necessarily count that one. Their match at Wrestle Dream 23’, then their Texas Death Match at Full Gear 23’, then their Dynamite match before Revolution in 24’. Hangman has been blinded by unadulterated rage. Plus Swerve not giving him that ‘five more minutes’ really killed him inside. And his former best friends, the EVPs, Nicholas and Matthew Jackson are latching onto his rage and pushing him through obstacles to get what they want, not really caring if he gets the redemption he needs.

Hangman’s shot was unfortunately taken away by “The American Dragon’ Bryan Danielson by losing to him in the Owen Hart Cup, but I do not believe this is over.

This brings me to Blood & Guts coming up in less than a week; Team AEW Vs Team Elite. Now before you all get excited, Hangman is not a part of The Elite. This is merely a business deal for him to get his hands on Swerve. That’s all he wants – blood. Swerves blood on his hands and his head on a stick. Yeah, it used to be about a championship, but now it’s about Swerve not being on top any longer than he currently is. Now as Matthew and Nicholas seem to think they are on the receiving end of a good deal, they may have made a huge mistake by adding Hangman.

If Hangman is fueled by his rage, who's to say he won’t turn on The Elite during or after the match. Who's to say he won’t be blinded again and cost The Elite the match? Tensions are running high, but one thing is fairly certain, Hangman is on a mission and he will not stop until Swerve’s time on the mountain comes to an abrupt end.

My only question: Can Hangman and The Elite co-exist even after everything that went down? There is some serious bad blood between them all.

Note: Feel free to reblog with your own thoughts and opinions. I love reading them. ♥️