#that was when I knew there was nothing a dedicated artist couldn't do

[akutasoda]

“diamond tiara crushed in two, my heaven crashes down for you”

synopsis - you are a royal, they aren't. would it be such a crime for them to be someone more than a companion of yours?

includes - argenti, aventurine, boothill, sunday, reca

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, i have no clue what im doing, wc - 2.8k

a/n: ngl this only came about cause my fav artist dropped a new single... something else was inspired by that which idk if i want to work on that onrle rrr

argenti ★↷

↪argenti was once the commander of the knights that protected the region. well, he still was but now most of his time was spent beside you. as your very own personal knight.

↪it was agreed very widely that argenti was by far the best knight in the kingdom. so it was inevitable that he ended up in such a trusted position - and it was also safe to say that your safety was pretty much always guaranteed with him around.

↪naturally, he still held his title as the commander but spent most of his days by your side so normally he would put others in charge in his absence. although in honesty, argenti never minded.

↪argenti enjoyed his job as a knight, he liked helping people out and defending the kingdom he was proud to be part of. a part of him enjoyed the serenity of spending his days with you.

↪most of it tailoring to him following you around as you attended meetings and the occasional trips to the town. and even argenti had a bit more freedom as you always let him do what he wanted but even willingly, argenti would happily spend time with you.

– – –

you walked idly through the corridors, you had nothing to do as of late. bored out of your mind. your only real idea was to head out to the town and see if they had anything to satisfy your boredom, although to do so you thought it may be best to find argenti first.

you knew where to find him however. if you were going out you wanted him to accompany you, not just as your guard but as a companion - you didn't really need a guard in your opinion. but you quickly found the knight in the training grounds.

he was very dedicated to his training. it was always intriguing to you when you did catch him in action - in training or in a real life scenario. so you couldn't exactly help but take a seat nearby and watch as he trained.

you weren't trying to be creepy but it was interesting, and rather entrancing, so you watched. although you should've expected argenti to notice your presence as soon as you sat down. he huffed as he stopped swinging his ornate spear, stabilizing himself, he stopped and turned to you with a smile.

“is there something you need your highness?” argenti slowly walked closer to you and quickly noticed the flushed expression on your face at being caught.

you tried stammering out a response but quickly gave up and broke eye contact looking at the ground. argenti let out a small laugh, “if there's something you require of me, please do let me know”

eventually you managed to piece together a coherent sentence and explained how you wanted to go visit the town for a bit. argenti agreed, like he would ever not agree, and excused himself for a moment to get ready and don his armor.

argenti always loved when he got to accompany you anywhere. your presence was such a joy for him and a selfish part of him enjoyed knowing that he spent the most time with him - argenti knew you enjoyed his presence as well which always made his heart soar.

but he was merely your personal knight. he should be glad to be granted such a title, but when you take him by the hand and lead him to wherever you wanted with that smile on your face, he could convince himself that for a fleeting moment, you two were something more.

aventurine ★↷

↪a diplomatic representative of the stoneheart group who spent their time negotiating and delivering messages between various kingdoms. a neutral group who maintained positive relationships with all kingdoms to survive.

↪aventurine was always responsible for being sent to your kingdom, and so he would always make an appearance when your council met to discuss. a part of you was curious if he'd ever drop his position among the stonehearts to become a permanent member of your council.

↪he always had very valuable insights that always seemed to work towards bettering your kingdom as a whole rather than helping the relationship between the kingdom and the stonehearts. he also spent a decent amount of time rilling up your actual council members.

↪although, nowadays you noticed how he made more frequent visits to your kingdom, and specifically you. aventurine would occasionally come and find you just to drag you away from your duties and hang out - something you never actually minded, even if you should've..

– – –

aventurine walked through the lone halls of your residence, he found it almost laughable how easily the guards let him in, how much they trusted him. he could easily walk in with the wrong intentions and dismantle your kingdom from the inside out but you both knew he wouldn't. which was why he was here now.

bursting through your room's doors, you shot up from your paperwork before relaxing at the sight of the emissarie.

“hello to you too aventurine,” you briefly glanced over to your calendar “what are you doing here? seeing as we have no meetings…”

aventurine smiled as he sat himself on the corner of your desk “do i have to have a reason to see you?” he knew he didn't, he knew you'd always welcome his presence at any time.

“you know you don't want to be stuck here doing..” he looked at what was laid across your desk, making a vague shrugging motion “whatever that is, take a break! we can walk around for a bit!”

you knew you shouldn't listen to him, that he was a bad influence on you. but one look at your desk was enough to convince you that aventurine was right. you'd have even more work to do when you got back but who was going to tell you off? aventurine was definitely one of your best “advisors”.

he smiled when he watched you stand up and he followed suit, already talking about all the things that had happened since he last saw you (which was barely two days) and asking you about what you wanted to do.

suddenly your boring day filled with paperwork was actually going to be exciting, spent with someone you liked as more than one of your emissaries.

boothill ★↷

↪apart of a group of mercenaries known as the galaxy rangers. they take up whatever contract they agree with and pay the most of course. the “galaxy ranger” name is simply a convenient way of finding the best mercenaries in the regions - whether or not someone can get one to work for them is a different story.

↪boothill was once hired by a rivaling kingdom to bring down yours, he didn't exactly agree with his contractor but they did have rather deep pockets. that hesitation of his was what you used to save your kingdom. paying boothill more than what he had previously been offered.

↪and what better way to ensure your kingdom's safety than to constantly ensure boothill worked as a mercenary for your kingdom by paying him. it was a simple solution in your eyes and boothill wasn't going to complain.

↪although as time went on, boothill was seen less as a mercenary and more as a companion - seeing as you spent quite a bit of your free time talking with him and listening to his takes from traveling all over.

– – –

“so tell me again why i’m accompanying ya?” boothill poised as he watched you eye up some shop window displays

you hummed “because i gave argenti the day off for his hard work” turning to face him you continued, “and your nice company”

nice company huh? boothill would've never considered himself to be nice company for anyone but he wasn't going to argue your word. it wasn't entirely uncommon for you to drag him around the town when you were bored, always giving that same excuse or saying something along the lines of being blunt and just wanting to hang out.

boothill would be lying if he said he didn't enjoy this time with you. it was always peaceful, a nice respite from his daily activities - which admittedly became more calm themselves ever since you began paying him to be loyal to your kingdom.

even if you were to stop paying him, he reckoned that he would still never go against your kingdom. there was something about you that was enchanting to the mercenary, no wonder you were royalty. he could spend ages thinking about you, he had no clue why however.

boothill had no idea why he felt this way about you. you were just another stupid royal who was too big for their boots. and yet, he stuck around. he indulged in your conversations and requests, he genuinely enjoyed being around you and-

“say, why don't we stop for lunch on the way back?” your voice broke his chain of thought and that smile of yours practically rendered him entranced

“sure, your choice, your highness” and he reveled in your brightening smile that was caused by him, the one that made his knees weak and he couldn't care less about how you grabbed his hand and practically dragged him away.

sunday ★↷

↪the oh so prestigious high priest of the land. the one in charge of all the churches and so he had a spot on the royal council. not only as the main representative of the churches but also as an advisor.

↪he was a form of spokesperson for the people who confided their issues with him and some of his ideas had helped the kingdom greatly, so he definitely deserved a seat among your council

↪sunday was very reliable. he would always show up to meetings and always ensured that services within the church were planned and carried out to the nest they could be. a man devoted to fulfilling his role. although with how long you'd known him, he had a few flaws.

↪namely his “people problem”. not that he despised anyone but at times he could be quite uptight and rather condescending - namely when discussing with your other advisors which made for quite the trouble occasionally.

↪but you valued his advice and so he kept his position. although you also highly valued his companionship, something he would deny of but secretly indulge in your favoritism of him - like a bird preening in front of a mirror.

– – –

service had finished mere moments ago. sunday sighed and closed up his book as he kept an eye on the last couple stragglers exiting the sermon.

so he couldn't exactly miss the line figure that walked down the aisle to his position. in honesty, even if he did miss it then sunday would know it was you, after all you had developed the rather neglectful habit of visiting him after his services - neglectful as you were obviously shrugging away duties to be here.

his face resumed his stern look that he usually held before he addressed you “your highness, you know you mustn't be here”

but you both knew that even if he sounded annoyed he wasn't. you knew that he enjoyed your clear favoritism to the priest but he cared too much about appearances and positions to let it shine through, in your opinion.

“i don't think i do” you responded, sunday quickly picked up on that playful tone of yours, he knew what he was in for “would you mind enlightening me priest?”

oh aeons how he hated that dumb smile of yours. that stupidly pretty smile that made his heart skip a few beats. no, he couldn't let you break his act down so quickly, that would be embarrassing for him. so he collected himself and answered

“considering i enlightened you yesterday, i have no need to repeat. or is your memory that bad? if so i feel a trip to your healer is necessary then?” when he heard you grumble, he knew he'd managed to save his facade.

this wasn't exactly the first, or even the last, time that you slinked away to spend time with him when he had nothing going on. but you were the monarch. you had duties to attend to and so despite his true wishes of wanting this time with you, he always urged you to go back to your duties.

“fine then” you huffed “i'll be seeing you tomorrow then”

turning on your heel, you began leaving with a stumped sunday who was wracking his brain for any idea of what you meant behind you. but he couldn't think, so he had to ask

“what's tomorrow?” sunday hadn't got anything planned with you tomorrow, yes he had other things but nothing that you should've been aware of

you stopped in your tracks and turned around, feigning shock and hurt, you gasped “don't tell me you forgot! the meeting tomorrow?”

sunday paused, “but that's the day after, no? we agreed so at the last meet”

as soon as that smile of yours widened, it all clicked together in his head “oh it is? my.. well i already have a cleared schedule for that time.. wouldn't want to waste it?”

turning around again you continued, “so ill be seeing you at noon then” before walking away once more

sunday stood in confusion for a moment and before realizing fully and blurting out “you-” but you were already out of earshot, also missing the smile that crept onto his face.

reca ★↷

↪an infamous playwright who recently had taken residence in your kingdom. his plays were known far and wide by everyone, highly praised and honored. people always eagerly awaited even a whisper of what his new creation was.

↪and so naturally, you had become a patron of his. always sponsoring his plays as you were quite the fan yourself. whenever you saw that he had a new play that was being performed, you immediately cleared your schedule for that time and got your ticket - they were always in high demand.

↪reca was faltered that royalty such as yourself was so deeply invested in his writings and he greatly appreciated the sponsorship, it enabled his plays to reach greater heights. and so it was only natural that he started pandering some of his plays to you.

↪more based around subjects that he learnt you loved, your favorite troupes, anything you deemed intriguing and so on. of course, they all came out as hit plays but he knew they were slightly more special than just his average play.

– – –

reca stood from the sideline, hidden behind a deep maroon curtain, as his latest play came to an end. he watched as the actors he so desperately searched for took a bow as gifts were showered upon them for his characters he created for them.

but nowadays, he cared less about audience validation and more about a specific person - yes he still valued the opinion of anyone that saw his plays as that's what kept him going mostly but this play was special. he spent ages driving himself into sleep deprivation and stress trying to perfect it.

all because he tailored it for you.

his number one, and favorite, patron. he'd seen you take your seat and eagerly awaited your critique for his piece. reca wouldn't mind if you didn't pick up on the hints that it was tailored towards you, just as long as you enjoyed it. and his question was soon answered.

reca's ears perked up when he heard your voice call out to him. you shouldn't be backstage, but nobody would stop you. a confident smirk graced his face when you immediately starting rambling about specifics of his play, what you liked the most, how well it flowed etc etc.

he took your praise in strides, even more so when you poised him a question.

“oh! mr reca, you must tell me how you got inspiration for the main character!” you seemed so happy and so rene's smirked widened

“well if you must know your highness, it was about a special patron of mine” reca watched as your face twisted into something akin to confusion as you tried to figure out what that meant.

he nearly laughed when your expression portrayed a more shocked and embarrassed tone, you tried stammering out a sentence “so what about their lover-”

“well a writer must take some creative liberty, no? and one's subconscious might influence those decisions” he held back a laugh as your face flushed.

“your a tease mr reca” you huffed. and he only smiled back as you too let a smile creep onto your face.

taglist - @little-miss-chaoss, @frankiesteinn

[the-s1lly-corner]

Ej, Lj, Masky, Hoodie, Masky, Ticci Toby and Bloody Painter x reader who draws them

Prize 5/5 for @reivelmin !! I hope you've enjoyed all of your prizes WOOHOO!! I had a blast writing them, hardly ever get the excuse to write for some of these characters EHEHEHEHE

EYELESS JACK

I've always headcanoned that Jack was always a bit of an artist himself, although the most he does it sketch every now and then to keep his kind busy. He points out some techniques he recognizes and asks you about it. It.. actually takes him a moment to realize that all of the drawings are him. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head before he tries to move on. This opens the window for the two of you to draw together every now and then.. though jack is always a little embarrassed.. flustered.. with the knowledge that you have so much of him in your book

LAUGHING JACK

Very loud when saying he loves it. Hes flipping through the pages before pausing, looking you dead in the eye. He makes a comment about how you must be soooooo obsessed with him. Hes teasing you, of course! He offers to draw you in return.. though dont expect anything crazy, Jack's not.. the best artist- and hes okay with that! Loves looking through your art whenever you offer it. Would kick his feet in the air while looking through the pages. Sometimes you give him sketches to color, to keep him busy while you have to go do something

MASKY

He already knew what you were drawing him before you ever have the chance to show him. The man is silent and is constantly keeping an eye on you.. he does NOT know how to be a normal roommate!! You probably dont get the chance to show him yourself, because he points at a stray pencil marking that you forgot to erase. Worst jumpscare of your life, if you werent already aware of his presence in the room... he.. actually gives a thumbs up. Which doesnt seem like much but considering that he doesnt really emote, that's a huge thing... now does he think it's a little odd that you have a bunch of sketches where hes the reference? A little, but he does offer some good poses and lighting due to him tending to lurk in the shadows

HOODIE

Very similar to Masky but at least he pretends to not know. You walk up to him with your sketchbook and hes so obviously playing dumb but its.. sweet that hes pretending. He takes his time looking through all of the art, where some of the others get too excited and flip through it all. He doesnt talk, but he does communicate that he thinks it all looks great via sign.. oh he would definitely start leaving sticky notes with doodles around for you to find

TICCI TOBY

I think Toby would be a little overwhelmed, he didnt think anyone would be interested in him enough to want to fill an entire sketchbook with him. He tries to cover up his shock by lightly making fun of the situation. Though every tease he tries to draw out falls flat, as everytime he goes to poke fun of something about the art he trails off. Besides, he couldn't bring himself to actually make fun of the stuff you make.. if it's a gift, you offer to take it back but he quickly shuts that down. Its like the Bob's burger friendship bracelet audio, "no fuck off its mine"

BLOODY PAINTER

As an artist himself, he asks you about what materials you used as well as the techniques you used! Unlike EJ, Helen is more thorough in his questioning and knows a lot more fancy terms.. he points out the good parts of your pieces, and catches himself before giving his criticisms.. he at least makes sure that the criticism is wanted before just unloading (and even then hes constructive! Hes well aware that just dunking on someone does nothing to help them grow). It actually strikes his ego a lot that you would dedicate so much time and material to just him, and it inspires him to make something for you in return. If he didnt know you were an artist prior to this, he offers to paint with you.. whether as a collab or just simply working parallel to one another! Just please pay no mind to him staring at you more intently while hes at his canvas...!

[f1daydreamers]

𝐌𝐲 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐞 [𝐎𝐏𝟖𝟏]

gif credits: @u-u-piastri81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

Summary: Oscar is a visitor at your first art exhibition – not exactly his scene – but it's one that he contributed to financially to help you out, an upcoming artist he's taken a bit of a liking to.

Warnings: criticism but not always constructive, fluff, Reader and Oscar being cute, this man in a suit (audience may faint from the gifs), angst, maybe Oscar is a little out of character but I just upped his rizz by a solid 20% because I love him but he's way too shy to do any of this methinks :)

A/N: I know nothing about this profession icl but I got major black tie and exclusive event vibes from the gifs so this is what came out of it. I did a ton of research to make sure it wasn't too unrealistic but experience beats knowledge so if you guys read any things that need some correction, lmk!

Yeah, I never expected this to be so long but once I got to writing, I couldn't stop so hey, enjoy!

Word Count: 4.6k words (17 mins reading time avg)

…

Safe to say, this wasn’t Oscar’s scene.

Standing among collectors, art enthusiasts, curators, and industry professionals meant feeling a little out of place was a tad understated.

But he wanted to be here tonight. Of course, being invited is one thing but accepting the invitation comes with a whole new world of formalities he hadn’t prepared for.

You hadn’t noticed him yet, busy greeting and socialising with what looked like a few critics and journalists.

The notebooks in their hands were a dead giveaway but your hand drumming on your leg was another. You were anxious.

Oscar took a sip of his drink, the one he was offered when he received an entry pass coming through the venues' doors. He knew how much this evening meant to you, both in the months of planning and the dreams that preceded it.

Initially, the idea seemed farfetched, but as you dove straight into creating the collection, photographing it, staying up late to create statements that wholly captured the essence of your creative process, the once exciting prospect of submitting it to a gallery felt somewhat dissatisfying.

In a few conversations with Oscar, you’d shared your aspirations of seeing your portfolio bask in the limelight. However, the reality of organising a self-funded exhibition in a rented space would blow your budget out of the water.

You don’t know at what point but he’d made the decision to donate a significant sum of money to your artist fund, covering a major portion of the exhibition's expenses.

It helped you realise all those curious questions about possible venues, dates, and basic costs weren’t just to fuel his enthusiasm, but to sincerely offer his support.

You were grateful beyond what words could describe, and the least you could do was ask him to be here today.

You were nervous partially because you had critics and community leaders alike wandering around the space, conversing about your work you’d spent years dedicating blood, sweat and tears to.

But you were also nervous because he was here tonight.

Even if you’d drawn a squiggly line on a blank canvas, Oscar would marvel at it like it was the most beautiful thing on this planet, but tonight was when he was finally seeing your work in all its completion.

He brought your vision to life and the last thing you wanted to do was make him think his investment was a waste.

Last you’d checked, you hadn’t seen his brown wavy hair anywhere around the venue, his innocent smile playing on your mind even when you were entranced in conversation with fellow artists.

You stepped in front of a painting no one else currently seemed to be trained on, focusing on inhaling and exhaling your breaths, fidgeting with your fingers by your sides.

Tonight, was the most important day of your career by a mile.

“Excuse me.” Someone spoke up behind you and you inhaled a deep breath before whisking around to greet them. But your eyes grew soft, and your smile grew amicably at the man glancing downwards back at you.

“Do you know where I could find the host of the evening?” He asked, his smile mirroring yours, fiddling with the stem of his wine glass.

"Oscar," you breathed out, and the F1 driver had to force himself to disregard the palpable sense of relief that accompanied the utterance of his name.

The way it effortlessly rolled off your tongue, it left him wanting to hear you say it repeatedly.

“You made it.” He nodded his head, “I did.” Initially, he had doubts about attending, but considering the venue was conveniently located close to his hotel near Silverstone and his flight to Budapest wasn't until Monday evening, he managed to find the time to come.

You drew in a breath, "you look good." Your compliment was genuine, whenever you'd met up with Oscar or came across photos on Instagram, he was either in racing gear or in casual outfits. To see him in a suit was different. A good different.

"Thanks. Pretty sure I should be counting my breaths though." You chuckle as he looks down at himself, the shirt was a little smaller than he would've liked.

A testament to how life in Formula 1 was like and that his neck size had grown exponentially.

"Each one could be your last," you joked, adding on and he nodded.

"Exactly." His laugh culminated into a final chuckle, melting into a warm smile.

When you looked away, seeing the waiters you'd hired tonight refilling cups as people wandered around, Oscar took the opportunity to let his eyes drag over your figure.

"You look beautiful," his compliment drew a smile from you.

You briefly cast your gaze downward before lifting it to his chest then finally up to his eyes. "Thank you, Oscar."

He responded only with a curt nod; his eyes trained on your face before he tore them away to have a look around him.

"How's it going?"

You hummed, thinking about your answer. "It's okay. There's a few paintings that are getting lots of attention, others a little less."

"Did you expect that?" He asked and you reasoned, you knew when you began this collection that people would naturally gravitate more towards some pieces anyway, that's the advice you were given everywhere you went.

"Yeah, I'd be lying if I said I didn't." Oscar took a sip of some liquid courage before pointing at the painting you'd just been standing in front of with the rim of his glass.

"I like this one." You turned as he took steps towards it, his shoulder grazing yours. "This is the last one." You mentioned as he skimmed over the statements planted on the wall next to the artwork.

"I think it's an elderly couple, and the mirrors all around them are portals into a specific memory of their relationship." He said undisputedly. You look up at him, your mouth parting slightly in surprise.

"Yeah, how did you figure that out so quickly?"

"It's almost like you were brainstorming ideas to me on call a few months ago." You scoff, rolling your eyes but ultimately impressed by his memory.

He hadn't spoken much during that phone call, so you'd assumed he wasn't paying much attention to your endless rambles.

"I never realised you were actually listening." You softly said and Oscar turned his head to look at you.

"Every word." He reassured, and a warm feeling encompassed your chest at his affirmation.

His gaze traced over the painting once more. While he had never hesitated to express his belief in your talent, seeing your artwork displayed in such a way stirred a whirlwind of emotions inside of him.

He was proud of you and excited for you, knowing that you had undertaken this journey for your own sake, garnering an array of artistic admirers. It's no mean feat to organise an event like this, take a risk so early on in your career.

"I don't know how I'll ever be able to repay you." You snap him out of his thoughts, turning your body towards him, standing a few feet away.

Oscar mimicked your movements, turning so he was facing you, and placed his now empty glass on a bar tray that a waiter had extended to him, refusing a refill.

"Why do you think you need to repay me? Remember, it was a donation." He said matter-of-factly. You let out a sigh.

Despite his repeated assurances that he expected nothing in return, you couldn't shake off the feeling of indebtedness that lingered in your thoughts.

You found yourself dwelling on the late-night conversations, wondering if your eagerness to discuss your plans had inadvertently conveyed desperation.

Your gaze drops and without hesitation, he reaches his hand out and gently slots it into yours, his thumb caressing over your skin in a soothing gesture. Your heart skips a beat or two, the warmth of his hand was relieving.

"This is the best way you can repay me. Living the dream." He smiles and you nod, finally lifting your eyes to meet his. His voice was a calming anchor amid your thoughts.

"I'll never forget how you made it possible though," a small smile graced your lips, and he let out a chuckle.

"Yeah, you never miss a chance to mention it," he quipped, his eyes dancing with amusement. You playfully rolled your eyes, a good-natured sigh escaping you as you did.

Oscar's hand retreated to his side, and a subtle longing for his touch flickered within you. Nevertheless, you mask it with a smile that grew as you exchanged a couple more jokes.

...

He courteously held the door ajar, giving a nod to a man entering the bathroom who appeared to appreciate the gesture. Letting the door close behind him, Oscar took out his phone to check the time.

Absentmindedly, he began scrolling through his notifications: a mix of sports updates, a message from his mum, one from Mark. Yet, none seemed particularly urgent.

Just as he was about to tap on one of the notifications, his attention was drawn upward to the sound of your voice.

You were engaged in conversation with a man, his journal held in his hands, and sunglasses perched atop his head. Oscar's gaze briefly went back to his phone screen; he made no overt effort to eavesdrop.

Despite this, fragments of your conversation found their way to his ears anyway.

"I must say, your work is quite disappointing. The lack of technical skill is evident in every piece." Oscar's eyebrows furrow as he observes openly, a marked departure from his earlier disinterested demeanour.

You clear your throat as you try to collect yourself, bringing your fingers up to your mouth to hide your quivering lip.

You had previously cautioned yourself that not everyone will like your work, but experiencing such candid criticism directly was far more destructive than you could have expected.

"Um, okay. What sort of things did you not like about it?" You asked, trying to find some sort of valuable insight from such a respected critic in your community.

"The colours are garish and clash horribly. It's clear that you have no understanding of colour theory or composition." You nod, gathering some form of strength to just take his words on the chin but you were failing rather miserably. Your stomach was sinking, and your eyes were watering slowly.

"It's a shame that your efforts have resulted in such subpar creations." Your jaw tightens and as you scramble for the right words to respond with in your mind, a hand presses into your lower back from behind.

"Excuse me. I want to purchase a piece, but I can't seem to find your sales assistant." The accent is unmistakable, and you muster a smile as you turn to face him.

"I'll help you." Your voice is unsteady, your emotions deflated.

"Thank you," Oscar responds, though his gaze carries a hint of concern. He moves to follow you but before he can do so, the critic extends his hand to grasp his arm, waiting until he's certain you're out of earshot.

"Coming from a collector, don't bother." He smirks, his conviction clear. Yet, the F1 driver's face remains impassive.

"Sorry, I don't remember asking you. Now, if you don't mind." He looks down at the grip on his arm, his fist clenching by his side. The critic seems taken aback at the blank expression looking back at him, devoid of any gratefulness.

He swallows before loosening his grip.

Oscar rounds the pillar just as you press down on the handle to the fire door exit at the distant end.

He contemplates whether he should grant you some space, but he wonders if doing so will only make matters worse.

Pausing briefly, he contemplates his choices before deciding to make his way toward the fire exit anyway. His hand firmly grasps the handle, and he proceeds to push open the door.

With your back turned towards him, you're unaware of his presence. Your palms are pressed against your face as a means of stifling your sniffles hence the closing of the door registers faintly, the sound hardly penetrating your thoughts.

It's only when the crunching of gravel beneath someone's shoes reaches your ears that you realise you're no longer alone. But oddly, you know there's only one person who it could be.

The combination of embarrassment, distress, and sheer exhaustion was what left you feeling so overwhelmingly emotional.

Aware that you don't want Oscar to witness you in this state, you quickly swipe at your cheeks, hastily erasing any traces of tears from your face.

You whisk around, smiling up at him and nodding your head. "I'm good Os. It's not always going to be a perfect score, right?" His heart swells at the nickname you called him, very few people did so, but hearing it from you felt special in a way.

"He's a dick," the F1 driver bluntly responds, his tone carrying a hint of anger.

You chuckle softly, but the sigh that follows is slightly shaky. A wave of heaviness crashes over you again as the critic's hurtful words echo in your mind, your stomach sinking in response.

Oscar picks up on the shift of emotion and his eyes soften at your teary and lowering expression.

Without a word, he opens his arms and pulls you into an embrace. You don't resist; instead, you bury your face in his shoulder, your shoulders trembling as silent tears escape your eyes.

His arms encircle you tightly, offering a comforting refuge as your emotions spill over again.

His chest rises and falls with each steady breath, the rhythm providing you with some comfort despite how irritated you're getting at yourself for letting one conversation bother you this much.

As he holds you, his chest aches both for your vulnerability and the anger he feels towards the critic who provoked it. You reluctantly pull away after a minute or so, a mixture of gratitude and sadness in your eyes.

But in the moment, you can't help but feel that the money he donated for the exhibition might have gone to waste, that your efforts fell short.

Disappointing your clients is business but disappointing him felt personal, he was the reason you even had a chance to do this, and it'd turned out horribly.

"I let you down," you say quietly, and Oscar's eyebrows knit together as he studies your expression.

"How? Every piece I love, Y/N." He responds, placing his hand on your forearm, his touch warm. It sends a flurry of goosebumps over your skin which you're sure he would've picked up on considering his attention to detail.

He positions his index finger under your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes which you do. Your legs suddenly feel like they're incapable of keeping you upright, your face warming under his gaze.

"You didn't let me down." He whispers.

Oscar's concern remains palpable as his hand doesn't fall back to his side. His eyes hold a depth of emotion, the colours in his eyes becoming more distinct.

The connection that you can sense increases, and it's as if the unspoken understanding between you becomes more profound in that moment.

His cologne surrounds you but it's his gaze that flickers to your lips, a fleeting but unmistakable gesture. You realise that he's leaning in closer and there's a fraction of a second when it feels like the world around you fades.

The possibility of his lips meeting yours feels tantalisingly close.

But just as the moment deepens, you're both interrupted by one of the assistants, their voice breaking through the charged atmosphere.

"Sorry," the assistant interjects, sounding somewhat hurried. "There're a few clients waiting to speak with you Y/N."

Oscar slowly pulls back; he tucks in his bottom lip between his teeth and his expression shifts from one of intimacy to one of polite neutrality.

He offers you a subtle smile, the connection lingering between you even as the assistant's words redirect your attention.

"Of course," you reply, your voice steady despite quite the hurricane of emotions storming inside of you. You look to the assistant, ready to face the responsibilities of the exhibition once again. As you move away, you steal a glance at him, his gaze locked onto you for a moment longer before he nods.

That damned connection between you and Oscar remains, but now only punctuated by unspoken possibilities.

...

"Thank you, ma'am." you say with a warm smile as the elderly woman clasps your hand, offering kind words about your artwork while draping her shawl over her shoulders.

Once she'd left, you looked around to see if there was anyone else remaining in the space. Oscar had left a while ago considering he was on a flight tomorrow to Budapest.

Though a tinge of disappointment lingered within you, you understood and bid him goodnight.

You wrapped up a little later than you would've liked, a couple of your pieces had sold so you had to coordinate transport for them.

For the remaining few, you'd wrapped them up, gathered the papers for each one before loading them into the van to have them delivered back to your studio.

Oscar eventually made it back to the space he'd rented on Airbnb, staying in a hotel for a week definitely wasn't something he was fond of doing, a neatly packaged box of takeout planted on the small table.

He threw the crumpled paper bag into the bin and settled onto the couch, his phone in hand. He opened Instagram, scrolling through his feed to pass the time it'd take for him to get sleepy.

As he tapped through the stories, your profile picture caught his eye. He felt a smile tug at his lips as he watched it whole. The familiar scenes of the exhibition unfolded before him – videos capturing the venue, the artwork.

His gaze lingered on the art as if he hadn't been there tonight, his mind wandering into the world you had created. It wasn't just the work itself that interested him; it was the glimpse they offered into your mind, your perspective, and the emotions you poured into your work.

The admiration he felt for your creativity was intertwined with the growing fondness he was developing for you as a person.

Once you'd reached home, you dropped on to the couch with a sigh of relief that the day was done.

So, when your phone started vibrating besides you, you groaned and brought it up to your ear, not bothering to take a look at the caller ID.

"Y/N," you closed your eyes and waited for the other person to respond. They stuttered first before speaking up, "should I - should I reply with my name, or do we just get into the conversation?"

You lightly gasped, chuckling and straightening up on the couch. "Oscar, sorry. I'm still in work mode I think." You rubbed your forehead and the F1 driver poked through his food with a fork on the other end.

"No harm done. You back from the venue?" He asked and you stretched your legs out in front of you, fiddling with the hem of your dress.

"Yeah, only just. Perfect timing, Piastri." He smiled at your response, "I pride myself in that."

"I'm sure you do." You joked teasingly and fell back on the couch again. The similar onset of warmth and goosebumps from earlier bubbled up again inside of you.

"I thought you would've knocked out by now." Oscar hums, swallowing his food as he traps his phone between his ear and shoulder, throwing the now empty box on to the coffee table in front of him.

"Yeah well, I needed to eat. Luckily for me, there was a long queue at every takeaway place tonight." He retorted sarcastically and you scoffed, "typical London."

He agreed wordlessly before shifting his body horizontally, propping his head up on the armrest, his legs splaying over the leather sofa.

"What did you end up getting?" He made a humming sound as he reached for the receipt he'd tossed carelessly aside, bringing it up to eye level.

"Caribbean chicken curry." He said slowly, squinting to read the half-printed letters. Your stomach rumbling beneath you helped you remember that you too hadn't eaten for majority of the day. Your last meal was breakfast with a few snacks you always have on hand.

"Sounds good. I'd kill for some chicken curry right now." You mumble and Oscar's head turns to look up at the clock hung on the wall above the television.

"How 'bout I bring some?" He asks nonchalantly and your heart skips, you stutter in your response, glancing at the digital clock blinking at you from the corner table.

"You'd do that?" You say, a little more high-pitched than you would've preferred.

He smiles, refraining to say something corny. "Yeah, well I mean it's not my bedtime for another hour so..." He trails off thus leaving you to make the decision.

You don't even care about the food anymore, your stomach is doing somersaults from the mere thought of seeing him twice in one day.

"Only if it's alright with you. If you need to sleep, please sleep." You insist and there's a pause, you could swear you hear keys jangling on the other end of the phone before Oscar confirms.

"I'll be there in a bit."

...

You're changed into some slightly more flattering pyjamas than your regular animated giraffe ones when you hear a knock on your door. Taking a deep breath to steady yourself, you walk the length of the hallway and reach for the doorknob.

Giving it a couple of moments, you open the door to find Oscar standing there, a warm smile on his face that mirrors your own feelings.

He's holding a paper bag up and you smile, "my saviour. Come in."

He slides past you, toeing his trainers off and pushing them up to the wall so they weren't in the direct pathway, allowing you to lead him into the living room.

He places the bag on to your wooden dining table and you sigh in delight, the smell of the food faintly wafting out of it.

"How much do I owe you?" He shakes his head, letting you take the box out of the bag.

"Only your eternal gratitude," he replies, his lips curving into a smile as he takes in the sight of your light expression, your eyes lit with appreciation.

"You already have that." You chuckle.

Eventually, you begin eating, all the while holding a conversation. With each passing minute, a subtle worry creeps in - that he might decide to leave soon. Not that you're against him getting his rest, but your own enjoyment of his company is growing stronger by the second.

The idea of the evening ending prematurely becomes less and less appealing. The warmth of his presence, the humour in his words, the hesitance you initially felt about him leaving transformed into a silent plea for him to stay, at least a little longer.

"I'm going to go up and use the bathroom, head over to the couch, make yourself comfortable." You insist and Oscar nods. His feelings he was aware of when he reached back to his place had tripled since he'd got here.

His leg had been bouncing the entire duration he'd been talking, he was nervous but albeit not understandably. He'd visited your place a few times now, he'd known you for nearly a year.

Nothing about the fluttery sensation in his belly, the excitement prior to seeing you, the attraction, the thoughtfulness, made any sense to him.

But at the same time, they made perfect sense. He likes you. A whole lot.

Realising he was getting a bit warm, he pulled the hoodie over his neck to reveal just a plain white tee underneath.

Tossing it on to the dining room chair he was previously sat on, he plops on to the couch, bringing the calf of his right leg up to rest on the knee of his left, his arm outstretching on the back of the couch.

You eventually return, having brushed your teeth since the aftertaste of the curry wasn’t a very pleasant one in your mouth.

“Do you piss for that long?" Oscar asks curiously, locking his phone and sliding it on to the table.

You scoff and feign offence as you sit next to him just a few inches away. "I don't actually, even if I did, what's it to you?" You tease and he shrugs, his lower arm draping off the couch casually, his fingertips brushing close to your shoulder.

"I was bored," he admits, his explanation falling a bit flat.

You raise an eyebrow, a mockingly sympathetic expression on your face. "Poor Oscar, suffering from boredom in my humble abode. My heart aches for you." He smirks, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he shakes his head at your antics.

His eyes sparkle with amusement, "Well, I must say your empathy is truly heartwarming."

"That's just me, a paragon of compassion," you quip, a mischievous glint in your eyes. His proximity has your heart racing, and you're acutely aware of the playful tension that's building between you.

He tilts his head, his gaze holding yours as he leans in slightly. "You know, I was half expecting you to beg for my forgiveness."

You roll your eyes, your gaze locked on to his, you didn't mean for them to glance down to his lips, but it didn't skip past his notice either.

Your heart was hammering in your chest and the silence that followed afterwards definitely gave Oscar enough time to be able to pick up on it.

"Please forgive me Oscar, please?" You reduce your words to a whisper and he smiles, refusing to waste another second and he instantly ducks his head to catch your lips in a fervent kiss.

His actions catch you off guard, the sensation electrifying and sending a jolt of surprise through your system.

Your thoughts scatter as the world seems to narrow down to the point of contact between your lips. The kiss is eager and filled with a mixture of longing and curiosity, as if both of you have been dancing around this moment for far too long.

Your heart continues racing, and time feels suspended as his touch sends shivers up and down your spine.

The sudden intimacy of it all is exhilarating, and you find yourself responding without hesitation, your fingers instinctively finding their way to his arm, your body moving a fraction closer to his.

A soft moan escapes you, and Oscar slides his hand beneath your top, pressing his palm against your waist. A squeeze of your skin hints at you to move back slightly, creating the room needed for him to push you down on to your back.

Your lips detach for a moment as he positions himself over you, lowering his head seconds later to press them together again.

His face was level with yours when he eventually pulled away to catch his breath, and let you catch yours, his arm propping him up besides your head.

"Isn't it your bedtime?" He chuckles softly, his fingers toying with a few strands of your hair.

"I'll just have to use the plane's naptime feature." You laugh, bringing your hand up to push his hair out of his eyes.

His gaze flickers across your face, capturing the traces of your faint smile lines and the tiny beauty mark adorning your skin.

He leans in, planting a tender kiss on the mole. Meanwhile, your fingertips journey to the nape of his neck, exploring the contours of his hair.

He grins boyishly when he picks his head up again. "I think I could stay here forever," he admits, his voice a soft confession.

You playfully raise an eyebrow. "Oh really? What if the plane's naptime feature gets jealous?"

He chuckles, a low, melodious sound. "Well, I guess it'll just have to deal with a bit of competition," he remarks before his lips find yours once again.

...

Masterlist

[melodic-haze]

☆ — SONG TITLE: I know what you tell your friends (it's casual)

☆ — PAIRING: mermaid!Kokomi x artist!Reader

☆ — TYPE: SFW, bittersweet angst? I honest to god don't know

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: POTENTIALLY OOC for the purpose of the character......mostly, light depictions of blood, drowning

☆ — NOTES: HI ALL I DIED BUT WHO'S SHOCKED LMAO 😜😜 this is for @edgeray's Halloween event, though it's a bit late bc I was ill at the last week of it and I'm lazy😭 GO CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S STUFF HOLY HELL. Also, my interp of a mermaid is moreso leaning towards what people nowadays THINK sirens are. I js couldn't bear to USE 'siren' bc of how they're acc supposed to be like. Winged creatures, not fish people

☆ — WORD COUNT: 2,801 words

It was often said that one must not go into the beach all alone.

Naturally, people would often tell you of sensible reasons such as possibly having your fragile items like your phone being dropped into the sand or, god forbid, the water or losing said belongings if you were to ever leave them somehow.

However, the most notably repetitive reasoning came out to be the possibility of being missing.. or ‘taken by the sea’, as everyone else would say.

It was a lot easier to just say that someone was lost or missing, but there was a certain reason why most have opted to disregard practicality for the sake of glamorisation—where you live, there has been a concerning surplus of missing persons cases with their last-seen location all being the beach, the seaside, the shore, all the same thing. And no matter how much the police had tried to investigate it (and it’s crazy that they actually did try, though that might be due to government concern), they found nothing conclusive about how the victims disappeared.

Perhaps it was because of the tides washing any sort of evidence away, though such an assumption led to the cases all collectively being dismissed as a suicide because.. well, really, they had to put some sort of conclusion to the case when they couldn’t really find any other possible outcomes without it sounding like more of a conspiracy than it already was.

(Fat lot that did anyway, because you can’t even put nightwatch on post there without them getting taken too.)

..So to a normal person, being at the beach all alone with nothing but a phone and a sketchbook in hand in the middle of the night would equate to one of the dumbest things you can do out here.

It wasn’t like you didn’t care about what would happen to you, or that you were experiencing that particular phase where you went against what was advised of you just because you wanted to be cool or popular or something (you weren’t a child, you were a grown adult with a life, for god’s sake), but oftentimes people like you all had one common flaw: artists were all dedicated to their craft, suffocatingly so.

And you were no exception, even if it had been too long since you drew with any sort of creative inspiration.

You remember when you walked back from god knows where and witnessing the way the moonlight hit the water, its gentle glow reflecting on the tide like fluid glass.

You remember that sweet dulcet tone stopping you in your tracks in the midst of your misery once your headphones lost power, the singing voice holding a certain alluring cadence that rooted you to the spot.

You remember the sight of dark crimson on shimmering claws and scales of blue, pink and purple, the palette much too distinct to be considered ‘natural’.

You remember the brief contact of eyes between your own and a set of glowing orbs that were no less striking than the tail that flapped behind the entity once it turned to have its body be entirely consumed by the ocean’s depths.

As an artist, you knew you had to immortalise the vision seared into your brain. And so, the day after that fateful encounter and consecutive days after that, you visited the beach at the exact time you remembered from before, picked up a pencil and opened your sketchbook to sketch like a madman possessed.

But of course as time passed, so did the freshness of your memory and your recollection of the details that had you entranced in the moment. The background itself? You had no problem. The issue was the oceanic figure; what details were you missing? What was its scale pattern? Was the red meant to mesh with the purple? What was it doing there?

Eventually you convinced yourself that maybe you were seeing things, and the messy scribbles of faint recollections were erased and drawn over with lines that connected the ever-flowing sea. Even when artists were seen as delusional, prone to confuse one thing with another—perhaps that thing was just a trick of the light, or maybe you’re starting to go insane, whichever tickled your fancy—you knew where to stop and come back to reality.

..Still doesn’t mean you had to keep coming back to the spot at the same time over and over again but alas, you couldn’t help it when you woke up at the dead of night just for your legs to lead you to the exact same spot you remember being at that very night.

Despite the constant warnings against the act of going to the beach all by yourself, nothing had happened to you or interrupted your creative flow despite being completely alone so the nights you spent on that exact spot were often peaceful, if a bit devoid of life. That was fine for you though, it meant less distractions from finally finishing this piece and moving on with your--

(You feel warm breath against your skin before you hear--)

“What are you doing?”

You startle, the pencil losing its gentle stability and creating an atrocious line across the page, and for a moment the irritation actually takes over any form of self-preservation you have.

So you start to complain, “I was drawing until you scared me—” then you turn to look at her, "—and made me ruin my own--"

...

Shimmering blue.

"..work."

Your speech fell flat the minute your gaze clocked onto those glaringly familiar set of eyes that pulled you in as if it were the ocean's depths itself. Its highlights were some sort of pearly pink, a soft contrast to the deep dark unknown.

And no pupils.

Maybe a trick of the light again, maybe you're hallucinating. Though you guessed even some of the best painters were kinda crazy back then.

"I apologise for disturbing you but, ah.. I don't suppose you can stop staring now?" And the mystery woman giggles lightly, her hand—a normal human hand, although her nails were manicured sharp and painted a glittering blue—moving to hover over her mouth as if to cover it politely, "I don't think I have anything of interest on my person to give you for.. emotional compensation?"

You blink, and you are drawn back to reality, "Physical, actually. You ruined my work."

"Even worse."

"You don't seem all that apologetic."

"But I am... Can't you tell?"

"It's dark, and our only light source right now are some busted tungsen street lamps." You sighed, putting your sketchbook and pencil down beside you, "Whatever, did you need something? No one's supposed to be out at the beach this late."

"Why not?"

"..Are you a tourist? Actually, no, if you were a tourist, you'd have to be real ignorant to not know... Though I've never actually seen you before."

You weren't sure if you lied just now or not. In fact, you're pretty sure you told the truth, but...

You see her stare at you, and you're unsure of what to do with the quiet.. until she shrugs, "I've been curious of what you were doing all alone at night. No one else seems to come outside."

"Don't you think that's any sort of indication to maybe mind your own business?"

"Forgive my curiosity."

You almost do, and you know not of why.

(Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, putting your safety to sleep.)

Instead, you relent, "People have gone missing after giving this place a visit all alone in the dead of night. Nobody really wants to die, so mornings and afternoons are when the people crowd here."

And you tear your gaze away from the stranger to look at the ever-expanding sea, "Come midnight, you won't see a single soul standing on the sand."

"But you're here," she says. "Why?"

"If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."

"I don't think I will."

"I doubt that—I don't even know your name."

"Kokomi."

You look back at her, brows raised slightly, "What?"

"My name is Kokomi. Yours?"

...

You tell her your name and state your purpose for coming here every single night. And from then on, the two of you talk until the sun comes up, sketchbook forgotten.

She asks you if you're going to come back now that your drawing's been ruined. You tell her that you don't know, considering your current lack of purpose, but then she says that she'll sit with you as you recreate your ruined art as if that's going to make up for the ruined days—weeks, even—of meticulously-sketched pencil art.

..For some reason, you were compelled to agree.

(Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the eyes.)

(Maybe it was the feeling of unsettling familiarity that drew you in, or that strange feeling of fight-or-flight.)

And so you continue to go down to the beach at night despite everyone's constant warnings, putting pencil to a new page in your sketchbook after having taken out and thrown away your previous attempt. Though even then, while there are still all sorts of warnings, people have noticed that there have been less and less people going missing from the shore. Can't help but think 'no wonder', considering how you haven't been killed or kidnapped after continuously coming here for so long.

Either way, nothing much has changed in your schedule.. save for a brand new companion appearing at night, her pink hair flowing behind you before going to sit beside you and observe.

Sometimes the two of you sit in comfortable silence, other times one of you talks of whatever comes to mind and it turns into some sort of winding discussion that ends with your sketchbook completely forgotten until you need to leave.

"..If you have something to say, you may as well spit it out."

"Hm?"

"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my skull. You may as well."

"Ah, I hadn't realised that I was staring so hard!" You feel her body draw back from originally leaning onto you and you suppress the urge to pull her back next to you as she continues, "I'm just wondering... Was no one particularly interested in coming outside with you?"

You put your pencil down on the page and look at her with a raised brow, "Are you calling me lonely?"

"No? ..Well, perhaps a little, I admit. I don't ever see you outside with anyone else."

"Oh, so you've been watching me. A bit creepy, no?"

She shook her head, "The observation merely struck me just now. I haven't seen you with anyone else at night, apart from me."

Instead of giving the curious girl an answer, you look down on the pencilled page. There wasn't much that you could really say beyond the fact that everyone else was asleep at this time.. and...

"I like being alone at the end of the day."

"Mmm. Me too."

"..That so."

No one points out the fact that neither of you are alone right now.

Nothing else is said, and you continue on sketching.

Oftentimes, that's what usually happens.

And it's.. nice, being able to just sit there with soothing company—she isn't overwhelming, nor is she insufferably awkward or borderline unbearable. She was like a smooth current, her voice akin to the sound of gentle water and her touch against your skin as she leaned into you cool and refreshing.

Not like you'd admit it.

(You wouldn't because saying that to a stranger's face is, quite frankly, really lame.. though you couldn't help but touch upon the water's detailing a lot more delicately in your sketches.)

(Or think about drawing her as your muse under the moonlight instead.)

One certain topic she was particularly interested in was the iridescent visage you witnessed all those nights ago—anyone would be, of course, in an 'entertaining-the-schizo' sort of way, not.. not her way. Not with genuine curiosity laced with something much more hidden, inquisitive.

"What would you do if that thing came back?"

"Like, to do what?"

"Who knows." Kokomi wore a soft, jesting smile, "Eat you, perhaps?"

"Would you be there with me?"

"Let's start with a 'no'."

"Probably sit there."

"Really?"

As you muse on the question, you take the cap off your water bottle, "May as well die finishing this rather than live with it gnawing on my mind."

"You have no self-preservation, do you?"

"Would it be edgy if I said it was overrated?"

"Perhaps," she shrugged, letting her hair shift and cascade from her shoulders and her arms down to her back. "What would you do if I was there, then?"

You took a sip, "..Say thank you, maybe."

"Oh? Why?"

"For keeping me company? I guess? Dunno, I just feel like I should thank you if I died on this beach with you."

You turn to look at her, and before you could say anything more, you notice the look on her face; it's indecipherable, blank, as if she were sizing you up and profiling you within her mind palace.. but what for?

Her eyes are unsettling—a touch of hunger glimmers in the ocean depths—as they stare at you (and has she ever even blinked once?) but then the moment you blink, her light expression is back as if it was never taken off.

"Let's hope that neither of us die, haha."

"Right..."

You also can't help but notice the way that you are reminded of said visage whenever you look at her, especially when she's by the water.

"Join me?"

"Why should I?"

"Perhaps you need a change of pace," she says as she takes off her lavender jacket and leaves her slippers off the sand. "I get the feeling, but you've been concentrating on your work for a while now."

"I don't swim."

"Don't? Or can't? I can teach you."

"Why?"

"Perhaps being in the water may help you gain a bit more perspective with your art."

"But I only need one perspective. Plus the water would be cold."

Kokomi stares at you with a slightly tilted head, and you can't help but notice her unusual eyes softly glowing but you do nothing but dismiss it, and then ends up shrugging, "Alright. I won't force you, of course. Just..."

She turns her head, "You never know, maybe getting into the water will turn out to be your final step."

..And as she walks off into the ocean, you don't even notice yourself taking off your shoes and chasing her after a beat until--

"Wait!"

She turns around, an eyebrow raised and a gentle half smile on her lips, "Yes?"

You stop just short of her, "Fine, I'll.. I'll go. With you. But you're not letting me go. I know how to swim but it's dark. So."

"Of course not," she reassures you, "I sought you out, after all."

"Huh?"

You don't get a chance to react, not when she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the water.

You don't get a chance to react, not when the both of you submerge yourselves and you are thrown back to that very night at the sight of clustered scales on pale skin.

..Or maybe you can't react at all, not when water starts clogging up your lungs and your consciousness sung to sleep.

...

You woke up coughing your lungs out, sore and very much still full of saltwater.

You woke up alone on the shore, probably for the first time since Kokomi had decided to come up and startle you enough to ruin your focus.

And you got up and ran.

You don't tell anyone, because the only person who would have ever believed you turned out to be someone you wish you hallucinated.

(Never felt so lonely like this in so long, like you don't have a purpose--)

You don't visit the beach for a while. And when you do, you wish you hadn't.

Not when you see a crumpled piece of paper—your scrapped mistake—on the spot the both of you had always occupied at night.

Not when you see the scribbled-out 'thank you' on the back of the page.

Not when you spot that same visage at night all over again, yet with the tainted memory of your near-death and of the brief company that you kept.

And certainly not when she looked at you with those shimmering blue eyes, her claws clear of any sort of metallic red, before she looked away and disappeared into the ocean depths.

(Though you end up finishing what could have been your magnum opus forged from looking at death in the eye all those many nights, you voluntarily put a line across the page and close your sketchbook.)

(You don't end up opening it anymore, not when you feel disjointed.)

(Incomplete.)

[pynkgothicka]

Oc is a famous idol or actress member (doesn’t matter which) is an obsessed fan and kidnaps her

Ｒａｄｉｏ ＰＪＭ

Synopsis - A pop star gets her life destroyed as a fan destroys everything.

Pairing - Dark! Yandere! Fan! Park Jimin x Fem! Pop Star! Reader

Warnings - NON/DUBCON, DRUGGING, acts of violence, OBESSION, STALKING

Authors Note - I finally did a Jimin fic!!?!

A friendly reminder that all my works are dark fanfiction! Please if you do not like that do not read them! This is your final warning before hitting the keep reading button!!

Jimin loved you.

It wasn't a fan loving a artist ghey looked up to kind of love. But more so a delusional based love.

He was such a lonely kid, having little to no social interaction outside of school. Even then he only talked to others when it was required of him.

But when you broke into the scene with your angelic voice and bubble pop music. He was just driving around, needing to escape, before hearing your first breakout hit on the radio.

He fell so deeply In love.

He followed you on every social media platform he could find.

He spent hours looking for pictured of you and saving them to a hard drive, getting them laminated and printed whenever he had enough.

Anything you announced a tour or even a singular concert he was there, pouring so much of his lavish parents money into you.

He even spoke to you on multiple occasions.

It was strange, you knew of him and whenever you had fan signs would always recall him and some weird thing he mentioned last time. It was like you almost realized how perfect you and Jimin could be together. Not only that but you ignored what your other fans had said to you. He was often being called somewhat creepy with how much time he dedicated to you.

If anything you talked to him more and even gave him a free pass to your organized fan signing events.

Like right now, as he waited for you for a meet and greet that you'd organized. You'd given him a free pass as you told him, “You always show up any other time, it would be weird to not see you!” He'd added one of the passes to a photo album he had, surrounding it with hearts.

He has so many pictures and posters for you to sign he couldn't contain his excitement. His shakey demeanor scared off the people around him so he willingly stood in the far back.

Being last meant more time spent than the rest with you in his mind. And with his dark brown hair shinning as bright as his smile, he waited patiently for those doors to open.

And when they did he was blessed as you still had on the tight dress you wore on stage. “Hey everyone! I'm so sorry I was late, ya know stage stuff!” You said waving both of your hands to your friends. The room buzzed with excitement, feeding off your presence and aura. Jimin could feel the breath leaving his body as he found himself completely speechless. He'd seen you in real life so many times yet everytime you seemingly got more and more beautiful.

He watched as you sat down and pulled out a pink pen, the color you connected to your star status branding.

“Alrighty! Whose first?”

📻

It was finally his turn and it would be just you and him as your management had left to pack everything up.

“Omg! Is that you Jimin?” You said giving a bright smile to the starstruck boy. You stood up, pushing the chair in and opened your arms to give him a big hug. In which he reciprocated quickly taking in your smell and warmth. His head went straight to your neck and hair, asking in a deep whiff before you pulled away and moved back to the obligatory chair and table.

“So what's been happening with you huh? Talk to me.”

“Umm, nothing much… just ya know listening to you.” You let out a small laugh and began to work on signing everything he brought.

“I'm assuming that means everythings good?”

“Yeah of course!”

“Thats good! As long as your not struggling, I have to care for one of my favorite fans.” You laughed finishing up signing his merch.

Did you just say ONE of your favorite fans?

Jimin felt his hand clench. He thought he meant more to you.

That you would've valued what he offered you more.

He thought he was special?

“Yeah…” But Jimin had to push that back into his mind. This was it. This was the perfect time. He didn't care that he didn't have everything together, he listened to his heart. And his heart was telling him to act now.

“Oh I forgot! I got you a bracelet, it's kind of bulky but its for you!” Jimins voice rose gleefully. But he quickly shut up, face going red as your hand grazed his and you took it. You wrapped it around your wrist, the weaving moving in and out in delicate patterns. Your eyes danced in amazement and you couldn't be more stunned by the gift.

“Did you make this?”

“Yeah, do you like it?”

“Do I like it?! Jimin I love this!” You shot up doing a little twirl. Jimins face glew a bright red and he could feel his pants stiffen as your dress rode up hi the curve of your ass.

“Hey! Its time to go!” Your manager walked into the lobby. You stopped dancing quickly. A deep sigh was let out before you gave Jimin a small smile.

“I have to go, I’m leaving in the morning and ya know hotels are super fun to live in.” You sarcastically commented rubbing at the bracelet on your wrist. “I’ll see you at my next concert I’m assuming?”

“Yes! Of course.” Jimin hurriedly said waving at you enthusicacally.

“Okay… plus my manager is kind of over everything right now so.”

“Yeah…”

“Byee.” You sung and picked up your things and walked towards the suited up woman. Your manager gave Jimin a hard glare as you walkes past her. The door then slammed shut

Jimins hands shot for the pink pen you left behind and he brought it to his nose. That same citrusy scent staining it was well.

Oh God he couldn't wait to have you.

📻

You slammed the curtains shut one more time.

Paparazzi and fans had crowded beneath your suite at the hotel you were staying at. You were on the top floor for gods sake, and yet your team never thought you'd maybe want some privacy?

To say they had your best interest at heart maybe their protection would be a tad bit better.

Even when you had picked up your phone, falling onto the bed, majority of the notifs were from your manager and telling you off about Jimin.

People were so mean to him. It made you feel bad in a way, so why not use your new found influence and power to make someone feel less alone in the world.

You did find it creepy that he went to damn near all your concerts. To you though it was cute, having a fan that dedicated to you. You decided to finally open the slew of texts, having nothing else to do.

Manager: That man is dangerous, why did you hug him?

Manager: I've told you time and time again its time to fill out a restraining order against him. At this point you could possibly get hurt on the route you're going, forget the tabloids, lets just end this as fast as possible.

Manager: Call me.

Nope.

You put your phone back down, that entire one sided conversation giving you a headache. You cant just get a restraining order against someone whose generally done no harm to you. Plus Jimin was so sweet, he really cares about you and that's all you could ask of your fans.

Or at least the ones who respected you.

Needing to take your mind off just about everything happening you went into your kitchen and grabbed a glass of apple juice. You bummed absentmindedly to yourself but was quickly interrupted by a noise coming from near your doorway.

Click

Your head quickly turned around, your body moving across the luxurious suite to the front door. It creaked open slowly and you hid behind a wall. Nobody should be up here. Your entire team had a different hotel to avoid paparazzi, hotel staff were told to leave you alone, hell even the cleaning maids weren't supposed to be near you.

You refused to look and question further as you crouched down and began to crawl across the ground going behind the kitchen island.

Blindly reaching for anything that could protect you, your hand knocked over your empty glass. Shards dug into your knee and hand, and you hissed out. Everything became blurry as you fell out of balance straight to the ground. You then looked up and made direct eye contact with Park Jimin.

Fuck, you should've listened.

“Hi baby.”

You didnt stay around as you used your opposing knee to get up and use the island as leverage. “Jimin no one is suppos-”

“I'm taking you somewhere nice baby…’’

This is was not how you were going to die. This just can't be it.

You pushed yourself off the island and flung past him and bolted to the window. But Jimin was quicker, as he seized your wrist and pulled you back. Your body hit the ground but Jimin grabbed the back of your head, taking his other arm and digging into his back pocket.

He pulled out a rag and you'd seen enough movies to know where this led. Jimin began to smuggle you with a rag, the sickly sweet smell taking you away. Your eyes became blurred and the last thing you felt was a pair of lips meet your forehead.

📻

You came too handcuffed to a bed. The mattress had no sheets, and was dirty, reeking of moth balls. In fact the entire room reeked of old cardboard. It reminded you of your grandma's house.

The cuffs dug into your skin as you tugged to no avail. The headboard began to bang with each tug, letting anyone in the house know you were up.

And you did alert one person.

Jimin walked through the door frame holding a bowl of soup. “Hi baby. You really had me scared for a second there, that I ya know … used too much.” He lamented putting the bowl on the night stand next to you. You just watched him, his every move. He moved with such haste and grace.

“Now give me your hand, I need to see if everything is begining to heal.” He gave you no time to be hesitant as he took your wrist gently. You hadn't even realized he patched it up, soft cotton bandages covering your hand and knee. Jimin got to work, slowly unwrapping, and looking at the small cuts in your hand. “Its beginning to look better already. I need to get that knee now.”

“Jimin?” You finally muster up, watching as he reached for the spoon in the bowl of soup. He let out a low hum as he took a spoonful to your mouth. You took it in, still watching him.

“Why did you do all this?”

“I did it for us silly. Can't you see how better things could be… well not now but it can and will be better.” Jimin rambled feeding you another spoon as he was talking.

“Jimin I have a life … a career… this. This is just a weird fucking crush…”

“No baby. I've seen how you talk to me compared to others. You weren't happy with that pop star life so I'm giving you a different life. A better life.”

You took another spoon in and furrowed your brows. “But I can't disappear… I need to go back.”

“No you don't. Lets just finish the soup, you only have a few bites left.”

“Bu-”

“Your making this difficult… Stop saying all that!” He yelled slamming this hand on the nightstand.

“It's the truth! You cant just kidnap a fucking popstar and think that your gonna get away with it.” You kept going, pushing his limit. You assumed that if you pushed him just far enough he would get aggravated with you and just throw you out.

But Jimin wasn't aggravated. He took in a deep breath and stood up taking the soup. “I'm going to give you some space, you need to come to terms with everything. And us being in the same room isn't helping that.” And with that Jimin left leaving you yelling and crying in anguish.

📻

Jimin moved you downstairs after a few weeks. Months? You stopped counting after a while and just accepted your fate. Jimins hands rubbed at your hair, as he watched another movie he'd pop into his VHS player.” Your hair is so soft baby… and you still have that citrus scent to you.” Jimin fawned over you. But you smiled at him, while being held captive you guessed you became used to Jimin and realizing that he was all you had.

“Jimin why isn't there anything new…?” You mumbled into your captors stomach, his hand going back into your hair.

“What do you mean?”

“Like new furniture and stuff.

“I thrifted everything baby. I don't really have the funds for new right now.”

“I had that money… in my old life.”

“Stop bringing that up. We talked about how I feel about the past.”

“Why? You can't face what you did?” You sat up instantly beginning to get mad with him again. Just pretending that everything is alright isn't what you want to do anymore. You were about to get up but was stopped as your wrist yanked back reminding you, and placing you back in square one. “But it's fine. Everything is fine.”

“I can tell your bitter still and I'm sorry but what's done is done. And all I want to do is look ahead.” Jimin lamented closing his legs to rest your head again. And you did, docile as ever. You almost damn near fell asleep until a hand landed on your hip.

You jumped up in shock, handcuff tugging at your wrist. Jimin slipped down onto the ground in front of you, looking up at you with such wide, lustful eyes. “J-Jimin what are you-”

“Shhhh. Let me take your mind off things, just moan with that pretty voice when I'm doing something right.” His hands went to the soft pajama bottoms he'd put on you that morning and tugged them down. You felt a cool breeze hit your clit, a newfound wetness forming. His right thumb went to your bud and pushed down, moving in slow circular motions. Your breathing got caught in your throat as he added a tongue along side his movement.

“Jimin… Jim- Please!” You screamed as his tongue jabbed inside of you, licking your walls. It all felt so good, and you didnt know if you could hide it anymore. Your hand went to the back of his head and pushed him further into you chasing that high. You wanted to feel something, you just had too.

Finally you were hit with that white light. Your came all over Jimins face and he drunk it up, starved for your touch.

He stood up, cock in hand as he jerked himself to completion. “Open wide baby.” With his other hand he grabbed at your chin and stuck his thumb into your mouth pressing down. You began to choke as he moved his tip closer to your awaiting mouth. And with a final whine he shot his load onto your tongue, kissing you afterwards, making sure you swallowed it all.

“I'm so glad I'm the only one who ever gets to hear you from now on. Your voice is so much fucking better when your moaning.”

[wariopunkdesign]

Chrono Cross Heroes

This drawing was probably the most ambitious project I've undertaken since I started this hobby, when a few years ago I prepared the illustration "Videogames Rumble" I drew all the characters individually and then assembled the entire composition, this time instead it was a single drawing, the composition is in fact much more tidy and without empty spaces.

Another technical detail is that having such a complex drawing and with smaller characters than I usually do, I couldn't use my usual filters to manage the shades as they would mess up the characters with each other, so this time the shades are rougher and less similar to brush strokes.

Let's move on to talk about Chrono Cross, another game from the golden age of squaresoft that I played only recently, a game I knew absolutely nothing about in terms of history and gameplay.

Chrono cross has a wonderful graphic style as well as the character design, that period of square with 3d models on pre-rendered backgrounds is my favorite and the one I'm most fond of, FFVIII, FFIX, Parasite Eve and Chrono Cross are spectacular from an artistic point of view.

Also the music in Chrono Cross is fantastic and incredibly ambient.

The gameplay is definitely experimental, there are many new aspects and overall they work and the game is never boring.

Moving on to the story, I found it ok, up to about half of the game I was really disappointed, thinking that square had made a game with such a banal progression worthy of a fanfiction of one of their titles was quite discouraging me, things simply happen and we chase the character with bad guy written on his forehead because there is nothing else to do, obviously the bad guy is looking for the macguffin of the day.

Then something happens in the story and finally the plot starts to be captivating and deep, too bad that the first part of the game is so empty and despite being full of "adventurous" moments there is no real motivation.

I also hate protagonists who don't speak and finding something like that in a game from that period of the square is for me a big negative point and is probably the reason why Serge is not a protagonist who is remembered.

The choice to have numerous companions was handled better than other similar titles, although it is "annoying" not to be able to have them all in a single gameplay it is also true that there is no real reason to use more than 5 or 6, and the fact that everyone has a mini quest or in any case a hidden chest for their final element and dedicated dialogues at various points in the game is very nice.

Also the way in which the various alternative endings are unlocked is very intelligent considering what the game is about, even the humor especially in these endings is very funny.

Chrono Cross is a game that I liked but didn't love, I don't think I'll play it again but it definitely left me with some good memories, my favorite characters were among the strangest: Mojo, Starky and Skelly.

I also played Radical Dreamers, the prototype of Chrono Cross and the game was very fun and well written, recommended.

If you like my illustrations, you can find my custom merchs on Redbubble, TeePublic or my Threadless Store.

TEEPUBLIC https://www.teepublic.com/user/wariopunk

REDBUBBLE https://www.redbubble.com/people/Punkkommando77/shop?asc=u&ref=account-nav-dropdown

THREADLESS https://wariopunkdesign.threadless.com/

[darkstar225]

Twice’s 10th member is found by 3mix self-harming

A/N: I got an ask on Wattpad from one of my fav writers @emlovesmarvel <3    

The request: Heyyy!! I've been loving your twice one shots so much you are amazing writer! I'm wondering if you could do one where Y/N is struggling with self harm and 3mix dotes on her and helps her through it? You're amazing!

PS: Tysm for everyone that reads what I write, I hope I can bring a smile to your faces every time I post! I'd like to thank whoever sent me this idea 'cause I loved to write it <3

__________________________________________________________

Y/N sat alone in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes were filled with sadness, and the weight of her emotions was unbearable. She had been struggling with self-harm for a while now, finding it difficult to cope with the overwhelming pain inside her. As tears streamed down her face, she felt lost and hopeless. Meanwhile, Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo, members of 3mix (also known as the moms), noticed a change in their kid's behaviour. They had always been close with her, considering her as their little sister and sometimes being mother figures to her when she needed it, and they couldn't bear to see her in such pain. They decided to pay her a visit, wanting to show their support and love for her.

The three girls quietly entered Y/N's room, finding her huddled on the floor, her arms covered in fresh wounds. They gasped in shock and immediately rushed to her side, their hearts breaking at the sight of Y/N who after seeing them started whispering through her tears.

Y/N - Nayeon unnie, Jeongyeon unnie, Jihyo unnie, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to worry you and make you see me like this.

Nayeon, with tears welling up in her eyes, gently cupped Y/N's face in her hands. 

Nayeon - Kiddo, you have nothing to be sorry for. We love you, and we're here for you. Always.

Jeongyeon and Jihyo wrapped their arms around the maknae, forming a protective cocoon of love. With a silent talk, Jeongyeon decided to be the next one to speak with a voice so soft that the maknae could hear her raw emotions.

Jeongyeon - Sugar, you are so precious to us. We want to help you through this. Will you let us?

Y/N nodded, feeling a glimmer of hope in the midst of her darkness. She knew that she couldn't fight this battle alone, and having the support of her 3mix sisters meant the world to her. Over the following days, Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo dedicated themselves to their youngest's well-being. They made it a point to be there for her every step of the way, offering comfort, guidance, and unconditional love. They showered her with affectionate nicknames, wanting to remind her of her worth and how much they cherished her. One evening, the 10th member took notice of it and with a voice filled with self-doubt, she expressed her feelings.

Y/N - Nayeon unnie, can you please not call me by this endearment name? I don't deserve it.

Nayeon placed a gentle hand on Y/N's shoulder, looking into her eyes with determination. 

Nayeon - Sweetheart, you are deserving of every bit of love and respect. From now on, we will call you 'Honey.' Because that's what you are to us. Something sweet, something precious!

Y/N's heart swelled at Nayeon's words. She couldn't believe that someone saw her as something precious when she felt so broken inside. The nickname 'Honey' became a constant reminder of the love and support that surrounded her. Jihyo, always the nurturing one and Y/N's mama, took it upon herself to help her child find healthier coping mechanisms. She encouraged Y/N to explore her passions, suggesting different hobbies and activities to distract her from the urge to harm herself. On one sunny afternoon, Jihyo proposed a different hobby for her dear daughter and sister.

Jihyo - Sunshine, let's try painting together, it can be a beautiful outlet for your emotions.

Y/N hesitated, doubting her artistic abilities. But Jihyo's unwavering belief in her talents gave her the confidence to try. They spent hours together, brushes in hand, creating vibrant masterpieces on blank canvases. Through art, Y/N discovered a new way to express herself, allowing her emotions to flow freely without causing harm. 

Y/N - Mama, I love painting, thank you for finding me a distraction! 

Jihyo - You deserve it, babe, we love you. 

Jeongyeon, the pillar of strength, became Y/N's confidante. They would often sit by the window, watching the world go by, as the girl shared her deepest fears and darkest thoughts.

Jeongyeon - Babygirl, remember that you don't have to face this alone, we are your sisters, your protectors. Lean on us whenever you need to.

Y/N found solace in Jeongyeon's words. Knowing that she had a support system gave her the courage to reach out whenever the darkness threatened to consume her. As days turned into weeks, Y/N's wounds began to heal, not only on her body but also in her heart. The journey was far from easy, and there were moments of relapse and setbacks. But Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo never wavered in their love for her. They continued to shower her with affectionate nicknames, reminding her of her strength and resilience. Whether it was calling her "Darling" during a group hug or whispering "Angel" in her ear during a quiet moment, the girls made sure Y/N felt loved every single day.

With their unwavering support and newfound coping mechanisms, Y/N started to rebuild her life. She began to see a future filled with hope and possibility. And though the scars on her arms were a reminder of her pain, they also symbolised her strength and the love that surrounded her. Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo taught Y/N the true meaning of sisterhood and self-love. They showed her that she was never alone in her struggles and that there was always a light at the end of the tunnel. Together, they proved that love and compassion could heal even the deepest wounds, transforming pain into strength and darkness into a beautiful journey of growth. And so, Y/N, once lost in her own despair, emerged as a shining star, with Nayeon, Jeongyeon, and Jihyo as her guiding lights. Their bond, forged through the darkest times, would forever remain unbreakable making her think:

I love my dear unnies.

A/N: I apologise for any errors, English is not my first language. Pls, let me know if there's something wrong, ty for reading <3

[rocknrollflames]

I’m curating a playlist on Spotify that’s dedicated to my hometown, Memphis, and I got so excited just now.

So I knew Otis Redding (one of my all-time fave singers) was discovered here (so to speak) and recorded here at Stax Records, but I guess I didn’t know to what extent. Like, so many of my favorite Otis Redding songs were recorded here—I’ve Been Loving You Too Long (To Stop Now), Try A Little Tenderness, Sittin' On the Dock of the Bay, and These Arms of Mine…just to name a few. 🖤

I’ve been to Graceland and toured Sun Records (where Elvis, Johnny Cash, and Jerry Lee Lewis all were discovered and recorded), but I’ve never been to Stax Records and done the tour there. I really need to. I also need to visit the Rock & Soul Museum, which is here too.

Sometimes, despite our issues here, I love being from Memphis. We have such a musical history and culture. I feel like that’s why I have such a love from deep in my soul for this music—the old Soul/Blues/50s & 60s rock. It’s in my DNA. 🎵

And we have the BEST BBQ IN THE COUNTRY. Fight me, you’ll lose. 😂

Ok, enough rambling about Memphis.

Love ya, sis. 🖤🍒🎵

Wow! I didn't know they also had a Rock & Soul Museum. That's so cool. I woiuld love to go there. I also still want to go to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame of course, too, lol!

I love old rock and roll. The first rock and roll. It's the real deal. A lot of people don't understand how rock is a mixture of both country and blues. I would say both country and rhythm and blues, but that's not the way I see it. Because country has rhythm too.

If you go back and listen to some of the oldest rock you can hear and feel it. I think the thing about rock, and this is my opinion, is that it should make you kind of let go. When it first came out, it drove people crazy! I mean, people were worried about their kids cause they wouldn't stop dancing and listening to the radio and they thought they had lost their damn minds. Women would pass out. They would faint when they watched Elvis Presley or The Beatles. Guys would wear their hair and clothes like them cause they wanted to be them and couldn't get enough of them.

And I love both the Buddy Holly/Everly Brothers side of things as well as the Chuck Berry/Little Richard side of things. They both fit in, you know? I have nothing against new rock at all, but the thing I love about old rock is that you can dance to it. If you can't dance to it fast then you can still dance to it slow! Or at least get a really good sway on, you know? Ha!

I understand they whole, 'get really into the lyrics and try to decipher the meaning behind every word and every line in a song and what the writer meant when they wrote it', and I get the appeal of that to an extent. But - rock is also a feeling. Like, it doesn't have to make sense. It doesn't have to have a deep, profound meaning ALL of the time. But sometimes it definitely does! And rock and roll and rock and soul that is straightforward and tells it like it is, is sorely missed.

I love my symbolic and deep thinking lines - the songs that you can find some meany meanings to. But when you don't have to THINK that hard - if you can just kind of lose yourself in it - then THAT'S rock and roll. That to me, is the most rock and roll that there is.

And I think that 'rock and soul' makes so much sense. Because to me, there is such a fine line, you know? There is overlapping and there is sharing and sometimes it is just borderline. But it's all so cool. Anyway - I think that is so awesome you have been to Graceland and to Sun Records and now are going to Stax too!

(I finally ordered my shoes, lol! Been putting that off forever! I lost my discount! Anyway, now I have to get the Spotify all worked out. As soon as I do I want to listen to your Memphis playlist. Is it going to be songs by artists from Memphis or is it going to songs from artist who recorded or played in Memphis, or will there also be songs that mention Memphis? Like, 'Walking in Memphis' and doesn't 'Black Velvet' also mention Memphis?

I think it is great that you still live in Memphis. I know there are problems there but there is nothing I hate more than people having to leave their home because of things like that. It has such a rich heritage and it needs it's people to maintain that heritage.

As far as the BBQ - I believe you. I have heard that dry rub is used in Memphis and other parts of TN. In GA, people were always poor. We weren't TX who had the ranches and the beef so no one knew what the hell brisket was cause no one could afford a cow. That's why they had to use every single piece of the poor hog! Ha! So, GA is and has always been famous for the pulled pork - with Carolina Sauce of course. And it is crazy you just mentioned BBQ cause i just had some pulled pork with CS a couple of hours ago.

When I lived In CA there was a cool restaurant that had all kinds of BBQ from around the country. They called the pulled pork sandwich the Georgia Pulled Pork Sandwich, lol. It was the first time I ever got try brisket. And I tried dry rub ribs the first time in Chattanooga.

Okay, so I really blogged today. Keep me up to date on the museum and the playlist. Otis is so cool. I mean, he feels it. He rocks. He rocks and souls.

Love,

Sissy xoxo <3

[heliosirrius]

I haven't had the need to use this blog, not still feel it, but Its late and I'm listening to music while riding out a flu. Of course music makes me think.

I've always been interested in song lyrics and relating to them to cope with life events, or even just because the lyrics are fun to decipher, but one that's been making me think a lot of my experience is jack stauber's cunk.

I know, silly name, but the lyrics are actually pretty dark and related to depression. Of course I can understand it as someone with the illness itself, but ever since I dumped my ex, a lot of things have been reframed, and I was thinking about this specific snippet of it to my experience.

I'm only here because this reason

I close my eyes, there goes a season

At the height of their control, I was just there. I was so burned out. I couldn't think. Things kept happening, every time I thought I got somewhere I'd fall again due circumstances. Time passed and I don't remember it happening. I don't think it still sinks in.

I will bury all my best friends

As I carry all the questions

Thinking back on it, their influence has made me destroy so many friendships. So many people who had the mistake of being human near them and being subject of my fondness.

I've reconnected with so many, and this takes me back to when I was burying them all to my past, wondering why. Wondering but accepting I had to. Why did I have to?

End, in the middle of my heart and my life

'Cause we're already out this far, holy one

End, in the middle of my heart and my life

'Cause we're already out this far, holy one

Because I was already too far in. I was only there and existing because it was my existence for so long, I didn't realize I could just leave. I didn't realize I had a choice. That the way I was treated wasn't normal.

It was just my reality.

Although the monster's in his cave

If we keep quiet, we'll be safe

The monster in this song is usually interpreted as depression. For me, depression was the least of my concerns. They were the scary one. I was scared of opening up, talking, sharing. I'd be better off like that. Because when I did, I was forced to lose my friends. So I kept quieter and quieter with the ones I still had left.

Take your lovely rope and wrap around my brain

Until the muscles ache and strain

I'll be happy on the day I squish the bug

That sucks my blood and has me drugged

The thoughts were ultimately just for the pain to stop. But in the end they drained me of everything. Demanding everything from me when I was so burned out in so many ways. And I told them. Yet they'd demand more more and more emotional, artistic, sexual things from me, and it was never enough. It was like a drug, where I'd feel nothing but a fog so strong I couldn't think, couldn't do anything but to oblige.

I knew I'd only be happy if I kicked that out of my life, even if it took a long time for me to accept it. Who can just accept everything you've always done for someone wasn't and would never be enough?

And once I squished the bug, already so fat from all it drained from me for years, I immediately felt better.

Swallow all of my teeth and shut the blinds

I can do another one, two, three, four, five more times

Usually this part is rightfully negative taking about self harm. In this recontextualization though? It's good. I would suck it up and go through all the pain to remove them from my life over and over. The relief is incredible. I don't care, it's blissful.

If you've made this far you're either very curious or my friend and I love you.

I love you too if you're just curious.

I don't love you if you're the ghoul who sucked the life out of me, stalking me once again, if the curiosity ever gives in. "People told me" my ass. No one wants to talk to you or would be this dedicated for you without peer pressure. This is my blog, I get so say my piece. This was a year ago and I know you don't let go.

[unrealward]

The last few posts are, like I said, from my high school AP drawing and painting portfolio (By the way, the theme of the concentration was "Transformations of the body". Does it read?)

I have some complicated feelings about the work. Below the cut I share some musings about it.

Warning, this story is about classroom abuse.

My high school art teacher was hypercritical, controlling, and at times coercive. In other words, abusive.

Because we, her students, regularly won awards for our work, she continued mostly unchallenged by the school. She was working there for over 15 years.

I was her favorite, so I was spared the worst of it, but that isn't the kind of privilege you're happy to have. Favoritism is conditional on obedience, and in this case, achievement through technical skill.

I generally try to make the best of any situation--Call it resourcefulness, or opportunism. I tried to explore and express my ideas while still getting her approval to go forward with the pieces--At times a lengthy process. I knew to keep my most vulnerable ideas to myself. She might have vaguely known that I enjoyed manga, cartooning, and surrealism, but I kept it hidden. Everything I brought to the table was a sacrificial lamb.

It's a particular kind of violation to not just lack ownership over your own ideas, but even your physical output. For some students, she would actually paint or draw over parts of the work to "correct" them. This only happened to me once or twice, and I usually managed to paint back over her work without a fuss. But even if I only dealt with it in the ideation process, all of my work from that time inevitably still has her hands on it.

I decided pretty early on, unrelated to her class, that I was not interested in pursuing art professionally. As I approached graduation, adults in my life would constantly encourage me--"Don't let this talent go to waste! Don't stop drawing, okay?"

It was difficult to understand. Drawing is reflexive to me. I couldn't really imagine a world without it--Even a "me" without it.

And that's still true in a lot of ways. I don't think I can ever put the pencil down completely. But certainly, I've had to make time for it, and it's no longer my biggest priority. There are weeks, probably months I've spent without drawing much of anything. It's been years since my last oil painting. I miss drawing with colored pencils.

In high school, I had some hundreds of hours dedicated to nothing but making art--But only under the hawkish eye of the teacher. I could make these highly developed pieces because I simply had the time to do so. If nothing else, I enjoyed the technical process.

If I want to make work of this caliber again, I have to devote a similar amount of time--And as an adult, time is on quite the premium.

When I make art, I never think of high school. Regularly I forget it ever happened. Wisely and tragically, I knew how to compartmentalize.

In the absence of acute pain, what I carry is more insidious--That strategic disconnection, that permanently-guarded heart. The sharpening of my abilities such that I appear as a whole self when I am sharing just a sliver.

There isn't some grand moral to the story here. The abuse neither actively haunts me, nor can I say I have recovered from it. It simply happened. But I know a lot of students were turned off from art, maybe forever, because of that teacher. They carry medals that don't feel earned. They struggle to find an artistic voice amidst the din.

At times, I need to make art to understand how I feel. Other times, I need to understand how I feel to make art. I can't help but see the image of things I want to create, even if I don't know how, even if I'm not ready.

Obviously, there's life after this kind of abuse. I'm living it. More than giving me new baggage, it's more accurate to say it codified existing problems. Anyways, I'm sharing this old art because I want to claim the past as mine, even if it's painful or embarrassing.

I'm hoping to make more art soon. I am trying to unbind myself from careful strategy and intention and to create things that bubble up from my subconscious. There are ideas I have held onto for years that are just waiting for me to create them. Even if it's slow or difficult, I hope I can share them with you some day.

Thanks for reading.

[ayearwithoutwater]

Twenty-four.

In my head, the subtitle to A YEAR WITHOUT WATER is “or, the men who loved me until they didn’t.” Although my reflections are structured around the narrative of one specific breakup, the broader purpose has always been to discuss how and why I loved the men in my life and vice versa.

My introspection on the topic began when I parted from my first actual boyfriend, but it’s a natural result of a youth spent reading and losing myself in my own inner world. I was a dreamy and idealistic kid whose imagination was stoked by book series including Mary Pope Osborne’s Magic Tree House, Gertrude C. Warner’s The Boxcar Children, and, of course, K. A. Applegate’s Animorphs. Reading taught me to imagine not just how things were but also how they could or should be, and it instilled within me the curiosity to want to know why. As I parsed my loss of who I'd considered to be the one man that got away, I thought about my third boyfriend and the baggage I carried with me as a consequence of that relationship.

In my mid-twenties, I dated a guy named Jun and wound up giving him more years than I have to anyone else to date. We had some good times, but it was a mistake I knew I was making as I made it, and I didn’t extricate myself from that situation because I was complacently comfortable. It was too easy to be able to rely on having him around, too easy to have a fairly agreeable partner for whatever I wanted to do.

I liked him, but I knew I was dragging out our relationship just to postpone the inevitable because the inevitable would be unsavory. So, one year became three, and suddenly we were living together to save on rent. It was a month before the coronavirus pandemic hit New York when he broached the subject of breaking up. It was another six before we were able to cancel our shared lease.

It wasn’t fair to him, either. I know he felt belittled or inadequate because his conversational input was limited to whatever memes and excerpts he’d read on social media about anything we’d discuss, save for music by Mariah Carey or K-pop artists. He once asked me whether I thought he was an intellectual, to which I easily answered no because, in all my years with him, I never observed him reading or learning about current events, civics, anything at all, not even the pop culture he so assiduously consumed. In a huff, his response was to create a dedicated Twitter account to subscribe to various news outlets. I told him that I didn’t expect him to become an expert on anything overnight, that I’d known before dating him that he just wasn’t the kind of learned person the word “intellectual” entails, that I had chosen to date him not for his intelligence but for his kindness. I know that that, too, must have felt like infantilization to him.

He never did log back in to that Twitter account, but I didn’t mean to patronize him. I was just frustrated that I could never have with him the same sort of discussions I have with all of my friends, about anything and nothing, and that he was only ever sycophantic in his back-and-forth with me. For his part, he thought I was uncompromising, uncaring, unaffectionate.

Honestly, he was kind of right. I resented feeling like the older, wiser partner. But, I only felt that way because I was arrogant and because I couldn't resolve the dissonance I was experiencing, that I wasn't brave enough to end our dead-end relationship. He wanted to be treated as an equal; I never saw him as one. It wasn't his fault that there was a two-year age gap between us. It was my fault for wielding that fact for my own self-aggrandizement.

I know he was probably thinking the same thoughts about our long-term prospects because, eventually, he was the one to initiate our separation. I didn't love that conversation, but I remember feeling impressed by his bravery in beginning the decoupling. He was finally standing up for himself, and he had every right to do so.

Jun wasn’t unintelligent. He was the type to lose himself in the Wikipedias of his interests, which I don’t deride when I specify that they were by and large limited to anime, manga, and K-pop. (I said earlier that I never saw him learning; I am, of course, an unreliable narrator.) He was fiercely loyal with a tender heart, qualities that supersede smarts. Obviously, our three years together weren't all that bad, but our interests just weren’t wholly compatible. He was a sweet and devoted partner, and I still had a hard time adjusting to his absence after we split.

I was twenty-four when we first started dating; I was twenty-seven when we stopped. After I had blocked his phone number so as to make permanent our disassociation, iMessage would glitch every now and then, and some of his messages actually slipped through the cracks. Even six months later, he sent me songs that he thought I'd enjoy. Alone in my studio apartment, arduously procured in the immediate aftermath of our pandemic breakup, I clicked the YouTube link he'd sent me and listened. He was right.

As I began dating my fourth boyfriend the year after Jun exited my life, I was determined not to make the same mistake of getting trapped in the wrong relationship. But, I over-corrected: I took too long to wholly commit to this new man who'd been all in from the start, and I left him feeling, frankly, unloved. My most prominent emotional baggage was a giant piece of luggage that screamed hesitancy, and I vacillated. I made not the same mistake that I'd made with Jun, but its polar opposite, and the end result was the same—yet another breakup.

Years later, I heard through the grapevine that Jun had found a new boyfriend who, perhaps ironically, shared my first name. I confess that the irony made me laugh, but it wasn't out of malice. I just thought he'd probably already made that connection himself and disliked it.

I went into my phone and social media settings to unblock him, even though he doesn't have my new phone number and likely doesn't think to check my online profiles, because he didn't deserve it. If he sees this, I don't mind him knowing that I'm sorry for how I treated him. All things considered, he was one of the good ones.

[diskaywrites]

Whumptober 2024

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭 #𝟗: 𝐎𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐂𝐚𝐥 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐥𝐚𝐲 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐱 𝐀𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐬 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐎𝐟: 𝐂𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐑𝐡𝐨𝐝𝐞𝐬, 𝐆𝐚𝐛𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐝, 𝐃𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐂𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐧 (𝐨𝐜) 𝐕𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞: 𝐌𝐚𝐢𝐧 (𝐓𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬)

.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽..✽✦✽.◦.✽

Anyone who knew Cal Finlay knew how much the music of Angel Michaels meant to him, even if they knew little else about him. Cal had always been open about how it spoke to him, about how he swore she wrote some of the songs in her repertoire about him. Most simply patted his hand and indulged the man in his belief. He wasn't hurting anyone but himself, so what did the belief matter?

That was until Angel Michaels herself had reached out to Cal for his assistance.

As well as being an established artist, Angel was one half of AEW's ultimate power couple, terrorizing the roster alongside her husband, AEW EVP Cody Rhodes. She had wanted Cal to help the duo as her personal bodyguard. Cal had been ecstatic with the opportunity, even if it meant abandoning the rest of the War Dogs. Instead of tag teaming with Gabe Kidd at Forbidden Door, Cal had simply been a silent observer to Cody's own win. Still, he hadn't minded. Cal would do anything Angel and Cody asked him to.

That was a statement to be tested.

Over the following months, Cal had been nothing but the muscle for Cody and Angel. He didn't mind if his own career suffered, no. 𝑆𝘩𝑒 was giving him attention. The woman who knew his mind even better than his own partner Delaney Cullen, at least in his own mind, wanted him around. Cody, however, seemed to ignore Cal unless he needed something. There seemed to be something boiling just under the surface of both men. Cal couldn't see why Angel tolerated having Cody around, they would have both been better off without the American Nighmare.

So when Cody lashed out after a loss, Cal showed Rhodes just ℎ𝑜𝑤 to lash out.

It had been a week since the two men had thrown hands in the ring and Cal hadn't seen Angel since. He 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 it was only because Cody was so controlling. Angel wouldn't have stopped talking to him if not because of Cody trying to control her. It was why he had let himself into the office she used in the back, thankful for being able to pick a lock. He knew, from experience, that Angel would be at the arena a half hour before the show, carrying a pumpkin spice latte she picked up before hand. Cal was observant, he knew her routine.

It was what made him such a good friend.

As if on cue, Angel entered the room with the aforementioned drink. Her baby blue eyes rested on Cal, an unreadable tone in her gaze. No, no Cal knew that tone. 𝙁𝙚𝙖𝙧. Angel was afraid of what Cody would do to her if she met with him. "Shh, shh. He doesn't have to know, Angie. I won't tell him."

"C...Cal what are you doing here?" she questioned, back pressed against the closed door.

"I missed you," he came closer to her, large hands taking her trembling ones. Oh, she was trembling. "I won't let him hurt you anymore."

Angie gave a little whimper, "You can't be here. You have to go."

Cal squeezed her hands, trying to comfort the woman who loved him. She needed an assurance of his dedication to her, to the cause that he soon faced. "I'll destroy him for you. For you. For us. I'll protect you Angie. I'll do anything for you."

"I know..." Angie whispered, tears of joy now streaming down her cheeks, "I know you will Cal..."

[back-and-totheleft]

"We are moving towards Fascism"

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Mr. Stone , in the USA Edward Snowden is condemned as a traitor, in Europe he is celebrated as a hero. How do you make a film that works here as well as there?

Stone: By staying close to the truth. And the truth is: Snowden loves his country, but he firmly believes that the Constitution should not be violated. He committed a crime to prevent an even greater crime. He gave up his life for that. Metaphorically speaking, he died when he became a whistleblower. Everything he had imagined for his future was over in that moment.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Have you met Snowden?

Stone: Yes. My co-writer Kieran Fitzgerald, our producer Moritz Borman and I went to Moscow eight or nine times to visit Snowden. We were impressed by his clarity, his determination, his dedication.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Not a nerd?

Stone: Yes, he is. As far as I can tell, he has few social contacts. His life takes place mostly in his head. His girlfriend moved to Moscow to be with him; she is his bridge to the human world. For most people, Snowden is just an abstract figure. When he appears on television, they don't like him. He doesn't have that human touch that makes him likeable.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Is his extraordinary intelligence one of the reasons why so many Americans distrust him?

Stone: Definitely. When he appears, they get the feeling that he is putting on an act, that he is not showing his true face. I always had the feeling that Snowden was himself, authentic. Most Europeans saw it that way too. But America is a strange country, things don't work there as you might think. This country is completely unpredictable.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: At the TED innovation conference in Vancouver in March 2014, Snowden was only connected via video and captivated the audience, even though he was thousands of kilometers away. Is he a talented performer?

Stone: He's a self-taught artist who can get people to listen to him. But he certainly doesn't stand in front of the mirror and practice. He speaks the way he thinks and his thoughts are clear. A performer? I don't know.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: The ability to present oneself is astonishing.

Stone: No question, especially for his age. He wasn't even 30 when the whole thing started. I couldn't have done it at that age, I wouldn't have had the courage to take on the Western intelligence services. Snowden knew what was coming, he had seen what had happened to Chelsea Manning. Ed knew the game and knew it would get dirty. But he never lost his nerve. That is perhaps his greatest strength.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Manning is small and scrawny, Snowden still looks like a teenager today. Was this inconspicuousness the best disguise for the two of them?

Stone: When you see Snowden, it's hard to believe that he had access to highly classified information. But isn't it more surprising that there are about 40,000 people working at the NSA who know they're working on the fringes or outside of the law, and nobody says anything? That's what I call a real conspiracy. Everyone keeps quiet because they have to pay off their house and pay child support. It's like Nazi Germany.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Many people know Snowden as a talking head from television. Do you want to show the person behind it in your film?

Stone: The love affair between him and Lindsay Mills was a key to this film for me. You can feel their relationship changing under pressure, how both of them mature in the process. At one point she asks him, "Why do we have to hide?" He knows, but he can't tell her. She thinks she has nothing to hide, but realizes over the course of the film that's not the case. We need privacy to protect our souls.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: In the film you can sense how much it burdens Snowden not to be able to share his secrets with his girlfriend.

Stone: Yes, he doesn't want to put her in danger. He shuts himself off to protect her. That touched a lot of viewers at the previews. To see that this man is made of flesh and blood.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Were there previews in the USA?

Stone: Yes, all over the country. In front of mixed audiences, women, men, blacks, whites, young people, old people.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: What will Trump supporters think of the film?

Stone: I hope they will see Snowden with different eyes after this.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Can the film change the image of Snowden in the USA?

Stone: Either way, the film will change the perception of Snowden. I doubt that it will lead to a pardon, though. The effect of films on viewers is always short-lived.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: How will America view Snowden in 20 years?

Stone: Hopefully much more nuanced than today. I would like him to write an autobiography in which he explains his point of view. The book would be a huge success.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Is Snowden a friend of yours now?

Stone: No, but I admire him.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: How is he?

Stone: He seems stable. He works hard and keeps himself to a strict, tight schedule. Doesn't seem to have much downtime.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Has he seen the film yet?

Stone: Yes, he likes it.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Is he a patriot in your eyes?

Stone: From head to toe. I see him in the tradition of men like Henry David Thoreau, who called for civil disobedience in the 19th century, or like Martin Luther King , who deliberately violated racial laws.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: The head of the German Federal Office for the Protection of the Constitution, Hans-Georg Maaßen, said a few months ago that Snowden might be a Russian spy.

Stone: Crazy. There is no evidence for all these claims that Snowden betrayed secrets to the Chinese and put Western agents in danger. On the contrary, many of the people who claim this have long been proven liars and should be fired or sent to prison. James Clapper, Michael Hayden, all that secret service gang. Not to mention Bush and Cheney. The sense of morality has gone completely to the dogs because of them. There should have been Nuremberg trials against all these people.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: At the beginning of his first term in office, Barack Obama promised transparency and clarification. Then he created the most comprehensive surveillance system in history. Is he also a liar?

Stone: Obama took money from Wall Street to finance his campaign. He didn't fight his opponents, he brought them on board. He filled his cabinet with people like Robert Gates, Bush's Secretary of Defense, or Hillary Clinton, a neoconservative, a hardliner.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Was Obama just badly advised?

Stone: At some point you're stuck in this bubble, these people are constantly whispering to you what you should do, until you end up believing it yourself. You get a list of names, someone tells you: "These are terrorists, we have to liquidate them." They pump bullshit into you from morning to night. But how can you believe a word someone like John Brennan says? How can you make him head of the CIA? Obama promised change, but picked up exactly where the Republicans left off. He's a decent guy, a good father, yes. But being a decent guy isn't enough, you have to fight.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Why does surveillance play virtually no role in the US election campaign?

Stone: The war doesn't matter, even though we are currently taking military action against some Muslim countries. The defense budget is not up for debate either. Military-industrial bliss reigns across the country. It's all completely corrupt. The same people keep giving each other jobs and shoveling money into each other's pockets. We're fucked.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: You sound very pessimistic.

Stone: The USA will prosper as long as we remain a consumer society. The system regenerates itself again and again. The free trade agreements are intended to ensure that our system expands across the entire globe. There will never be an uprising in the USA, we will always just about keep the poor alive. No one will starve. But our values ​​are going down the drain, we are waging wars, spreading violence and ruthlessness.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: You are a vehement opponent of Hillary Clinton. Will you vote for Trump?

Stone: I don't know if I'm even going to vote. The polls will tell us in advance who will win. And we will remain a surveillance state whether Clinton comes to power or Trump. Trump has called for the death penalty for Snowden. What hope can I have? People don't know enough because they are kept in ignorance. Democracy doesn't work.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: You described Clinton as the candidate of Wall Street. Does that mean Trump is the candidate of the people?

Stone: No, he represents a small white minority. Many of them feel threatened by feminists, by blacks, by Mexicans. Trump is running a completely destructive campaign.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Do you still have a vision for your country?

Stone: A vision? Phew. Perhaps this: we need a Gorbachev, a perestroika. Gorbachev did not intend to destroy communism, but by questioning it he promoted its dissolution.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: What does the future of the Internet look like?

Stone: Is there another one? If an opinion spreads on the Internet that is not acceptable to those in power, the big key is turned and then freedom is over. That is the future of the Internet. If Clinton wants to wage war, but people on social networks are calling for peace, will she stand by and do nothing? She will say: these protests are endangering our democracy, our security. That is the next step.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Can't someone like Snowden inspire people?

Stone: Of course. But it won't change the fact that we are moving towards fascism, a good-natured fascism that lulls us all with consumption. That constantly manipulates us, that deliberately scares us and then calms us down again, that collects all the data about us and knows us better than we know ourselves. That draws ever wider circles so that it can sell the Russians or the Iranians everything it wants to sell them, including a feeling of comfort. A huge bubble that keeps expanding.

SPIEGEL ONLINE: Do you still feel like an American? Or a citizen of the world?

Stone: As a citizen of the world. But in a good world. Not in tyranny.

-Lars-Olav Beier, "Everyone keeps their mouths shut, like in Nazi Germany," Der Spiegel, Sept 21 2016

[f1version]

DATES WITH YOU ♥︎ F1 HEADCANONS

includes: charles, carlos, max, daniel, lando, oscar, lewis, george, alex, logan, pierre, yuki, lance, mick, and sebastian.

summary: f1 drivers’ and their favorite themed dates!

author’s note: happy valentine’s day my loves!! this is incredibly late (almost 15th where i am) but here it is <3

love on top, a vday special ♥︎ general masterlist

now playing ♫₊⊹ until i found you by stephen sanchez

★ CHARLES LECLERC ( 16 ) — Charles has a “dates bucket list”. Enjoys planning them curled up in bed with you, talks about how you shouldn’t repeat any until the list is done—unless it’s a Drive-in theater date, he loves them. When they're arranged in Monaco, it's usually for old romcoms and coming-of-age movies, which is perfect in both of your eyes. Charles makes sure to bring snacks, blankets and pillows, everything so you can be comfortable while cuddling him. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as the movie plays, dusk falling over you, looking as beautiful as ever. He loves these type of dates… it even gives him a chance to show off his beautiful cars, but hey! that's off-topic.

★ CARLOS SAINZ JR. ( 55 ) — You and Carlos have a passion for trying out new recipes so, sometimes, when you have everything you need, you decide to put on matching aprons, as well as toques, and start working on your next masterpiece. Usually, old Spanish songs play in the background, Carlos singing, grabbing you by the waist to distract you and dance a little. He loves days like these, your focused face and little scoldings are all he needs, especially because in one way or another, you will end up laughing and dancing with him, sometimes covered in flour and seasonings, the kitchen wearing its best perfume.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN ( 1 ) — Max is always looking for ways to impress you, to catch you off guard and surprise you, he loves how you tease him about it. That's why, when you go to one of your favorite places ever —the planetarium— as a date, he recollects as many details about the celestial objects as he can, waiting for your surprise when he drops a fact you didn't know he knew, starting a long, beautiful conversation about it. You know a lot more than him, but he's eager to learn, loves the way you explain every single thing to him, loves the way places like this brings you closer.

★ DANIEL RICCIARDO ( 3 ) — Daniel loves music, he spends hours on end with his headphones on, discovering new artists, sharing his songs and albums of the month with you, adding to his playlists your recommendations. It's no surprise you find yourself going to multiple concerts. Dancing and singing, hugging and fangirling. Sometimes artists know Daniel, and that’s when you laugh the most because there's always a chance of him ending up on stage, singing to you (or trying to).

★ LANDO NORRIS ( 4 ) — Lando loves your creativity, he’s a fan of getting to know what's on your pretty mind and seeing your ideas come to life. He also loves sharing his own ideas with you, feels free doing so. His favorite dates with you consist of this: having a canvas, paper, or even pottery to paint on, gossiping and laughing for hours, having picnics and enjoying food. Lando would buy hundreds of utensils, wanting to try everything with you, forever. PS: He would have you paint him and his car, probably.

★ OSCAR PIASTRI ( 81 ) — It didn't start as a date per se, Oscar just couldn't sleep one night and you suggested building the Star Wars lego in your closet, so you stayed up until 6 AM building it. Now it’s a “midnight date”. He loves the tranquility it brings, how you can go from discussing deep topics to a comfortable silence. Focuses on the little things, like when your fingers brush his while reaching for a piece or that little celebration when you find another. In his apartment, he has a shelf dedicated to the Legos you've built together and photos to go with them. So, in Oscar's humble opinion, these are the best dates in the world.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON ( 44 ) — You and Lewis can live off two things: Roscoe and the beach. Surfing is something you have always bonded over, that's why you love heading to the beach early morning, going for a run with Roscoe, and then jumping to surf (taking Roscoe back inside first). You can stay out there for hours, challenging each other, improving your skills, and lying on your boards, talking about everything and nothing, loving every second of it.

★ GEORGE RUSSELL ( 63 ) — While experimenting with extreme sports would be a lovely date for George, he chooses to call his favorite something more domestic: comfy clothes, a good bottle of wine, and a long puzzle night ahead of you. He enjoys the challenging but relaxing parts of the activity, loves to strategize alongside you, and loses his focus when looking at you, falling deeper in love.

★ ALEX ALBON ( 23 ) — Playing Mario Kart as if your life depended on winning has always been part of your relationship — "It's our love language," Alex says— That's why you love to spend a large amount of time (and money) in arcades. You usually play against each other, sometimes with. You can also spend forty minutes trying to catch that one stuffed animal from the claw machine, cheering (and almost getting kicked out) when you get it. Alex loves it as much as he loves you.

★ LOGAN SARGEANT ( 2 ) — Logan fully believes that the best date in the history of dating are theme and amusement park dates. Whether it's a local funfair or the infamous Florida parks, Logan loves walking hand in hand, map and snacks in the other, trying to go on as many attractions as possible, calming the nerves of each other when necessary, laughing at the photos quickly taken on the rollercoasters (and going again to attempt looking good), and many other things that make this type of date his favorite.

★ PIERRE GASLY ( 10 ) — Pierre loves chaos and what's more chaotic than doing karaoke? Your catalog goes from High School Musical's "Gotta Go My Own Way" to Gaye and Terrell's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Sometimes you end up drunk enough (from adrenaline, from love, or both) to sing French songs or attempt Celine Dion's highest notes. You can spend hours teasing each other, dancing to the rhythm, and sneaking kisses in between songs.

★ YUKI TSUNODA ( 22 ) — Contrary to popular belief, Yuki's favorite type of date isn't taking you to a restaurant or cooking together, because even though he does love doing those things with you, your trips to farmers markets are his favorite. When the season is right, you visit them hand-in-hand, no matter the country since there is nothing better than discovering new foods with his favorite person. And hey! If there is something to eat, why not mix dates?

★ LANCE STROLL ( 18 ) — No matter the weather or season, you and Lance will always be up for an ice cream date. You're on a quest to find the best flavors, and the fact that some dates end in small big disasters is enough to keep you searching together, chins full of ice cream and all.

★ MICK SCHUMACHER ( 47 ) — Two things about Mick: he really enjoys ice skating and he loves you. If you put them together, he's guaranteed to have the time of his life, so he's lucky you like ice skating as much as he does. You both spend hours on the rink, being careful not to fall while holding hands, yet most of the time it's Mick who ends up in the floor as you drown in laughter. He loves that sound. He loves making you laugh and smile, it's his favorite pastime, and seeing you shine on the ice rink makes him realize how much he adores this place, next to you.

★ SEBASTIAN VETTEL ( 5 ) — Seb’s favorite is going hiking and then camping with you in the beautiful Swiss mountains, away from the hectic side of life. Just you and him giving new meaning to the known, sharing not only the beauty of life but also the comfort of one another, wrapped around small info-dumps and timeless laughter. It’s therapeutic being so close to each other, so pure and loving. If you ask him, he would repeat this date a thousand times over.

[tr0ubl3d-tr4n53nd3r]

So I have this sim I play in my legacy challenge, and her whole thing is kinda about how she has a whole hair journey, and since I have no (good) wifi on my computer, here is her whole hair journey to date.

(you may know her from the handheld ports of the sims 2... Ara Fusilli!!!!)

Ara had finally moved into a house away from her father, she look very similar to how she did as a teenager, except her hair grew out a bit for her wedding. at this point she felt like her life was complete, but felt kind of lost.

Ara and Lazlo have been married for a while now, and they finally decided to have their first kid. During her pregnancy she usually put her hair up so that it wouldn't be too much of a disturbance. At this point she was unemployed, and pretty much depressed, but anticipating the arrival of Reggie.

Despite her hair barley changing, this part of her life is important to mention. (this version is her og hair but without the little bit braided). She gave birth and her entire focus in life was dedicated to her son. At her roomates wedding she contracted a deadly disease, and ended up missing his whole childhood.

While being blocked away from the whole world, with nothing to do but read and cry to herself alone about how much she is missing out on she went insane. She tore hair out of her head and it got tangled, and choppy. The room she was social distancing in was wrecked. Everything that made Ara, Ara was gone.

Through her time with the disease she damaged her hair more and more. The agressivley red box dye she always put in it started to fade, and eventually she died on christmas day... kinda. The whole time she was like this Grim was just kinda like "Oh. poor kid. I guess I'll resurrect her" (she is unlucky btw). After her revival she started a life of crime... then got to thinking.

When Ara made the connection that she literally evaded death she tried to reinvent herself. A pass time that she once did casually as a kid (painting) became her whole job. during the time she had the disease, her roomates started earning so much money, that being an artist was honestly a safe career choice. Her hair was so matted and torn out that she had to shave it, which terrified her at the time but she grew to love it as a mark of new beginnings.

Because she missed so much of her own children's life, and her roomates were so busy working all the time, she decided to help them raise their own kids, solidifying them a house for their entire childhood. She practically became a second mother to Lemon Delossantos. Her hair grew a little and she dyed it red again.

Because she spent so long taking care of the kids, her hair started getting really uneven and patchy, and she decided to embrace that. This is the beginning of her really figuring out who she is. (also her hair is starting to fade back to brown a little.)

As she watched the children she basically raised as her own (And Reggie) grow up right before her eyes, she realized that she wasn't young anymore. She couldn't participate in trends young teens did- so she went retro. Around this time her art started getting more classical, some even being displayed in museums.

On the 28th anniversary of her close call with death, she started to see her husband's hair greying. She always knew he was older than her, but up until now she didn't really realize what that meant. She got much closer with her husband and son, and made sure to spend the remaining time she had left with them... well... with them. Alot of this period of her life was surrounded with death. Her brother In laws Vidcund and Pascal, Sister-in-laws Penelope Redd and Jenny, her father. Her hair doesn't reflect that too much, but she does just let it grow out, and keep dying in her signature red color.

On that same christmas Lemon and Reggie got engaged (No that isn't weird because we'll just say that Ara was a good mother-in-law figure for her), and did a celebratory woohoo, where they got pregnant with Cheddah' and Camembert, twin boys who take after their mother and paternal grandfather in being handy (for some reason) and she had to start dealing with the idea that she is a grandmother. Around christmas time as well, Orange had a kid of his own, him being the youngest of the three in the house really set things into perspective. Jean Luc (her lowkey annoying washed up celeb of a roomate who gets his french 'oui oui' out of his pants every five minutes) was starting to fall ill (he's about 78) and had to be admitted to the hospital. His life looked bleak, setting him at about one or two years (days in game) left to live. His wife was aging as well, at about 70 years old, and her husband not too far behind, and she started to realize that she herself was old. Sure she missed 10 years to illness... which places her mentally at about 39, but truthfully she is 49. She only has about 30-ish years left of her life, and she wanted to calm down a bit. She dyed her hair back to brown and even added greying streaks to make her look her age. She wants to make sure to be a good grandma to her grandkids. She doesn't want them to miss out on a grandma (or as she would differently word it herself) like Reggie did.

Currently that is all, but from my brain she has about two more hairstyles left before death so thats fun!

[jonfarreporter]

Entertainer extraordinaire, Carole Cook is remembered well by those who knew her

It seems that the only thing most of the celebrity newsfeed channels could say about the passing of comedian/actress Carole Cooke is that she was investigated by the U.S. Secret Service for a comment she made about Donald Trump when he was elected to the office of President.

Cook died on January 11 just three days before her 99th birthday. Her nephew Mark Cocanougher posted on Facebook that “my dear aunt Carole departed in peace…having lived a long and wonderful life doing the work that she loved.”

The work she loved according to those who knew Cook well such as, David Galligan was entertaining and charitable work.

He remembered the very first time he met Cook. “It was at a special party that was planned for Carole,” he said.

“She was returning home from Australia after playing the lead in the touring production of ‘Hello Dolly.’ Carole was the first to portray Dolly after Carol Channing. Australian audiences loved her,” said Galligan.

Galligan met Cook through actor Ray Stricklyn. Galligan surmised that Stricklyn and Cook became friends quickly because they were both from Texas. “I didn’t know anyone at the coming home party, said Galligan, but Carole made me feel right at home. She was so wonderful.”

Noting that Cook was larger than life in more ways than just show business, “I knew inwardly and instantly I loved this woman,” Galligan said.

Like his longtime friend Stricklyn, Galligan was an actor. “I enjoyed acting but it gave up on me and I then went into journalism,” said Galligan. His writing for mostly trade publications and theatrical news/critique, brought him into directing plays and various productions/awards ceremonies like Drama Critics Circle Awards.

Among shows he directed was benefit shows like S.T.A.G.E. (Southland Theater Artists Goodwill Event) Gala. “S.T.A.G.E. is among the longest running AIDS benefit shows around,” said Galligan. “And, Carole was always eager to help.” He added.

While some celebrity news feeds like Facts Verse on YouTube did mention Cook’s longevity in television and movies, as Galligan pointed out. “She enjoyed being on stage.”

He remembers with much appreciation the stage production he directed of ‘Lion in Winter.’ “Carole was marvelous in it, to great success,” said Galligan.

Yet he laughed as he recalled, “I was always conscious of her natural Texas drawl,” he said. There were times when she would slip into it and I would say to Carol. Remember you are supposed to be Eleanor of Aquitaine, and not a Eleanor from Abilene!”

Cooks ability to remain current helped her to get roles in contemporary films such as “Sixteen Candles” with Molly Ringwald and “American Gigilo” with Richard Gere, in the 1980s. To some film critics, those are among the definitive classics of the era.

Yet some, attribute her longevity to Cook’s humor. Like Lawrence Helman observed. “There is nothing so funny and or irreverent than seeing a show biz professional over 80 telling hysterically funny, off-the-cuff jokes and slaying the crowd into fits of laughter.”

For more than 20 years Helman has been doing the PR for the Richmond / Ermet Aid Foundation (REAF).

Helman mentioned “There are two big events that REAF does, HELP IS ON THE WAY - a large benefit for REAF and Equity Fights AIDS.”

“Carole performed regularly at REAF's annual summer "Help is on the Way" gala benefiting local AIDS, hunger and homeless youth services, said Ken Henderson. Executive Director of The Richmond/Ermet Aid Foundation (REAF). Her dedication was appreciated as Henderson added. “She was often referred to as REAF's Grand Diva."

As Henderson reminisced, “one year when Carole was having severe abdominal pains and could hardly stand up straight. We kept telling her she couldn't go on and we should get her some medical attention,” said Henderson.

Yet as he pointed out. “Carole refused and when the music started for her entrance, she drew herself up tall, marched on stage and gave one of her best performances of her many years of doing our benefits.”

“Her pain, we found out later, said Henderson was from a kidney stone that she eventually passed. But she was so dedicated and committed to the cause, even that kidney stone could not keep her off the stage.”

In 2018, Carole was presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award for her dedicated service & commitment to REAF and for the S.T.A.G.E AIDS benefits in Los Angeles.

To understand the extent of the charity work Helman said. “Help Is On The Way, they do a Summer show and a Holiday show in December.”

“For all those years I have worked with REAF, said Helman, Carole did the big Summer show in August. She always went on stage last to close the show - with a bang,” he said. Adding, “Carole always was irreverent and she delivered.”

Which might be why the Secret Service were on the alert when Cook allegedly commented something politically outspoken and outlandish to the effect of “Where’s a John Wilkes Booth when you need him!”

Facts Verse, and other celebrity news reports noted, Cook was a longtime advocate of the LGBTQ community. All relationships were important to Cook as Helman said. “Carole’s long-standing marriage to her devoted husband  (actor) Tom Troupe set the bar for a great partnership. They adored each other.”

As a stage and production director for over 33 years Galligan was quick to say. “Carole was always helping people, she almost never missed a charity event, he said. She was a ‘mother hen’ and I want people to know, Carole was one of the most unselfish people I have ever met. If there was a charity or benefit that needed help, Carole was there. I wouldn’t do the benefit show without my Carole,” he added.

Cooke spoke highly of many people and experiences when interviewed by HVY-Journalists in 2019. “It was Lucille Ball and ‘The Lucy Show’ that brought me to Hollywood and to television and the movies,” she said.

The 1964 live-animated, “The Incredible Mr. Limpet” with Don Knotts was a hit and her very first movie.

“But the stage was my first love,” said Cooke who spoke highly of her theatrical training in Texas at Baylor University. This gave her the skills and confidence to make her way from doing regional theater to go off to New York City and be in major productions like ‘Annie Get Your Gun.’

It’s is there in that musical that she caught the attention of Lucy Ball. And her career then took off.

Even though she was in contracts with Desilu Productions and Warner Brothers her love of the stage kept beckoning. So much so, “I took a risk, and gambled on going on tour to Australia to do Hello Dolly,” she told HVY. Cook also recollected and reiterated something similar to The Bay Area Reporter (The BAR) at the time back in 2019.

Of course some of that gamble had a “sure bet” spin of the wheel of fortune assurance as Galligan explained. “It was (producer/choreographer) Gower Champion that encouraged Carole to go on tour to Australia.” And the fact, that her husband Tom was willing to pull up roots and go on that venture with Cook, no doubt helped.

Working with the material of composer Jerry Herman was a delight as not only did Cook get to play Dolly, she also appeared on stage in the lead as Mame. Of which she described as a “rare and fun opportunity.” Because not only are the characters of Dolly and Mame optimistic amid life’s challenges, “they are survivors,” she said.

“She was truly magnificent,” said Galligan. Helman agreed as he sees Cook as someone who was more than just a survivor. "We shall not see the likes of her again, said Helman. “And I might add, “Whatta Broad!”