#this is a long one :)

[sandeewithtwoe]

Cross and Delta meet again!

Cross and XChara belong to Jakei95

Delta belongs to Animated Zorox

Epic belongs to Yugogeer012

Transcription:

Delta: Epic! Nice seeing you here!

Epic: Oh, hey bruh. I don’t think I’ve introduced you to Cross before…

Epic: We actually met a loooooong time ago but he kept getting overwritten lol

Cross: Dude, you know that’s not my fault

Delta: Wait a sec… YOURE THE GUY THAT TRIED TO KILL ME THAT ONE TIME!!

Cross: … I am? Sorry about that

Delta: Ahh, but the past is the past! We’re all friends here, right?

Cross: Uh, sure…

Delta: If you hurt Epic in any way whatsoever, I will beat the shit out of you

Delta: Aight, I’ll be on my way now. See ya!

Epic: See ya!

Cross: …

XChara: We can beat him in a fight

Cross: We’re not fighting Epic’s friend again

Epic: Pfft, bruh what??

Cross: Nothing

[koirankusema666]

Sit down and listen cuz I’m gonna be so real rn. This is gonna be a long one. It’s a serious topic but it’s positive I promise.

When I first made this account I was quite unfamiliar with the therian community on tumblr but so far it’s been more than welcoming. In fact, at first I thought maybe it was a bit too welcoming. You see I have never seen a community be so accepting of physical therians (holotheres, physical nonhumans and such) and at first I was a little alarmed because I myself have psychosis and sometimes have delusions that people misunderstand and I always thought I should treat other people’s delusions the same way people treat mine. That is, with disbelief and ridicule.

When I started reading about physical therians instead of being understanding and happy for them I got mad. I was livid. I took the acceptance and love of people like me as an attack and I thought people were invading my experiences as a delusional therian and I realized there was a whole new discussion on here that I haven’t heard of. I decided, maybe if I ignore that part of the community, everything would go back to the way it was before. Because I hated that all my life people have brushed my identity off as a thing to “fix” when all I wanted was… acceptance.

I was reminded of a person, though. Anna Lappalainen, the princess of Kellokoski mental hospital. No matter how much they tried to “fix” her, her delusion of being a princess never went away. And it got me thinking. Why is it that we want to erase mentally ill people’s voices and identities and brush these delusions off as things to “fix”?

Why can’t we just accept these identities as they are? Why do we have to tell people how they can and can’t identify? When you tell a physical therian they’re just a mentally ill human, do you really think you are in the position to say that? Did you really think you fixed something there? What, you think they’re just gonna stop?

There’s also something to be said about the human experience not being what it seems and our identities being more than but also encompassing our physical selves. If someone wants to physically identify as something, it’s not going to hurt you to respect that. Just like you wouldn’t go around calling trans men physically female men, you wouldn’t go calling physical nonhumans something they don’t want to be called.

I’m more than welcoming of physical nonhumans now. Because if I’m not, I would forever ignore a part of myself I need to address. And with that, I also want to come out as a shapeshifter. I know I can physically shapeshift, people say that to me all the time too, and it’s freeing to finally admit that. I’m not insane for this and I hope people will accept that. I’m valid, and so is everyone else with nonhuman/therian/otherkin identities, physical or not.

[atane-is-here]

@ainurweek

Balrogs - Kosomoth

Kosomoth, also called Gothmog, was the captain of Balrogs, son of Melkor and heir to his throne. In the beginning, his father favored him greatly. But as Melkor became more deranged, he started to forget the adoration he once held for his son. Ever since the return of Melkor to middle earth Kosomoth has tried to win back that attention. Whether it be by rescuing his father from Ungoliant or slaying Feanor, his enemy. He could never truly break through to him. He saw Gondolin as his next chance. With the information that was extracted from his prisoner, victory was guaranteed. He planned to return to his fathers fortress in glory. And victorious they were with the hidden Kingdom completely destroyed. And on his dark throne, Morgoth was glad. Already sinking into thoughts of his next plot, he missed a crucial detail about this latest success. His captain never returned to Angband.

[team-iceflower]

Weiss: When she was with you, did she ever do that thing where she petal bursts into a room and immediately starts talking?

Penny: *giggling* Yup. Does she still do that thing where if she's confused she cocks her head to the side?

Weiss: *smirking* Yup.

Ruby: *Petal bursts into the room* Oh hey guys, the new shipment of dustishereanditssocoo-

Weiss and Penny: *giggling*

Ruby: *cocks her head to the side* What?

Weiss and Penny: *holding their sides in a fit of laughter*

Ruby: Yang, I am so confused.

Yang: *walking up, wrapping an arm around Ruby and pointing at Penny* Ex girlfriend. *pointing at Weiss* New girlfriend. They're comparing you.

Ruby: *face drains* Oh.

Weiss and Penny: *laughing even harder*

[tulisydan]

Jere saying the most unhinged and disgustingly sweet things to/about Bojan

Thanks @frikatilhi giving me the best ideas, why not do this instead of some real-life things I really had to do today

sources for the concert videos: [x][x][x][x][x][x]

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 15

Jaskier realizes that when Geralt comes back from a hunt, pent up, eyes black, still snarling and panting like a beast, the only thing that helps is cuddling him. He hugs him, and runs his hands through Geralt's hair, and gently washes him with a rag and hushes words into his ear, and it helps bring Geralt back down. Sometimes he wakes up to Geralt coming back from a late-night hunt and immediately grabbing Jaskier's waist and yoINking him into Geralt's bedroll so they can snuggle. It's cute. And Jaskier certainly has no complaints.

Jaskier tries to ask him about it one time, but all it earns him is a "Shut up, Bard." and Geralt acting weird the rest of the day. Maybe he's embarrassed? Jaskier doesn't know why. He has no idea what the potions must feel like to Geralt, perhaps he truly needs the warmth and mass of a person in order to not want to rip his own hair out or scratch off his own skin or something else? So he's just fine with hugging his beefcake of a bestie (of whom he may be completely head over heels in love with) if it means keeping some awful ailment at bay. And he believes this for at least a decade, before he meets Geralt's brothers. Don't get him wrong, they're lovely people! But one day, an exceptionally difficult hunt calls for all three of them to go together and leave Jaskier at camp. Jaskier is a bit concerned over how he'll comfort all three of them at once, but when they come back, he finds that Geralt is suddenly ignoring him, and Lambert and Eskel are acting normal, if not just very exhausted. Jaskier pulls Lambert aside and asks him why they're not itching to hug him, and Lambert is very confused. Jaskier explains that usually Geralt needs to hold him in order to deal with the after-effects of his potions. Lambert explains that's not a normal witcher thing, and that Geralt probably just likes him, but he explains it in his own lovely lambert-y way, meaning it's mostly just laughing hysterically at his big brother catching feelings for some bratty noisemaker in silk (He likes Jaskier! It's just... Not what he saw Geralt going for.) Jaskier tries to talk to Geralt about it, but Geralt stops him from even walking close to him, and walks farther off as extra salt in the wound. It's like he can't even bear to be around Jaskier. It hurts a bit. Jaskier asks Eskel if Geralt took different potions or has a toxin of some sort i him that makes him behave like this instead of the normal, and then explains everything Lambert told him. Eskel agrees that it sounds like him just being comforted by the feeling of his mate safe and sound next to him, and that they've never seen Geralt like that. Jaskier is confused, because surely Geralt doesn't feel the same way, right? sURPRISE SECOND ATTACK! THE MONSTER RETURNS! OH NOOOOO Anyways, It slashes the shit out of Jaskier's arm, or perhaps chest, I don't know, whichever wound strikes your fancy, and the witchers go after it, but as soon as the beast is killed, Geralt rushes to Jaskier, and holds him close. The others try to walk over to help patch Jaskier up only to get growled at by their own brother. So now Lambert and Eskel are playing rock paper scissors on the ground over who REALLY got the final hit on the beast while Geralt sits 12 feet away from them, mending his bard. He growls at them if they look at Jaskier and him too long. A while later, he's off the high of the potions and adrenaline combined, and the witchers sure are going to have a field day lovingly making fun of their brother over this. But first, Jaskier and Geralt need to have a heartfelt talk. ♡!Optional addons!♡

• Big bonus points for a sequel or additional chapter of Lambert starting to act the same way over Aiden (or other ship of your choice, but Lambert and Aiden are my bread and butter lol)

[v-i-r-i-d-i-a-n]

Everytime I open a jrwi episode it’s a gamble on what I’m gonna be hearing and seeing

“You’re It” Episode 91, quotes and reactions

Bizly;”Charlie would make a great sim”

Ollie;”Damnit! I mean- dang it!…Darn it? SHIT!”

Gillion *in the most serious tone imaginable*;”No tag backs.”

Ollie;”Gillion what the fuck! I mean heck!”

Chip and Gillion in a barrel Chip and Gillion in a barrel- damn nvm mechanics stop it

Condi;”Jay disappears”

Bizly;”Now hang on 🤨”

THERES TWO GILLIONS AND NEITHER ARE ACTUALLY GILLION GIGGLING

Ollie;”It’s coming. I’m safe.”

GOOBLECK CAMEO <33333

Ughhhh propaganda propaganda blablabla

Gillion;”thats that girl that attacked us, what happened?”

Chip;”We handled it.”

Gillion;”..bet.”

Chip;”Bet.”

Charlie;”Underage people cannot commit crimes in the world of riptide, which is a cool little world building fact.”

Gillion;”This is Queen, he can’t finish”

Gillion;”Falsetto? Is that what that is? I don’t know, I can only tell the truth. I only have a truesetto”

ONE PIECE REFERENCESSSSS

Gillion;”I’m sorry if it made you sad that I piledrived a cat through an entire city at 300 MPH :((. He started it >:(“

JAY STRUGGLING WITH HER PART AND PLACE IN THE WAR AND NOT WANTING TO HAVE HER FAMILY LOOK AT HER WITH DISGUST AND NOT WANTING TO HURT THEM AND WAAAAAAAAAGHHHH MY BBG

Chip;”Yk what they say, an eye for an eye”

Jay;”And the world goes blind?”

Chip;”…just forget the last part :DD”

YESSS DONT LET HER WALK AWAY ‼️‼️

God I love all of their dynamics so much albatrio I love you so much

Gillion;”If I were you I don’t think I could’ve answered her either..” AWWWGGHHSHDHDKDJXJD

Earl;”BOOHOO, BUNCHA BITCHIN ASS KIDS. OH MY GAWD, IM DROWNING IN ANGST. BOOHOO”

Gillion;”I am the consequence I am the consequence.”

Fake caspian noises I love him HES A SIM

Fake Caspian;”Hakuna matata bitch.”

I feel like this little journal Ollie gave Chip is gonna emotional devastate me

Ollie;”I’m gonna kick you in the nuts” “I’m gonna burst the lump”

Chip;”You shouldn’t remember things like that!”

Ollie;”I remember everything I’m an impressionable 12 year old.”

Jay;”Great googly moogly! Kira!”

NIGHTMARE TIMEEEE

Gillion’s mom;“Eggs.”

“I’ll..be..back” IS FUCKING TERRIFYING

ALSO DREAM EDEN NOOOOOOO

Chip;”I see that shit every day in the mirror”

Jay;”You want breakfast..?”

Gillion;”……what are we having.”

Chip;”IM MAKING EGGGSSSS”

Gillion;”….WAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUPWAKEUP”

Chip;”…he taken all the eggs :00”

Jay;”I think we need a therapist as our next crew member”

Chip:”It’s so early to be scary”

Gillion;”I think it’s pretty fucking late to be scary.”

Gillion;”I thought I’d make it more then a day before having to show these puppies off” *black oozing scars on his chest*

WEED CIRCLE WEED CIRCLE WEED CIRCLE

Charlie;”you fail the weed check and you die”

Literally any of their high quotes are fucking amazing

Chip *high as balls*;It’s your destiny to fuck that thing up dude”

Chip;”You’re Gillion, mother fucking, titty sucking Tidestrider”

Gillion;”How’d you know my middle name? 😦”

[mega-aulover]

Katniss didn't settle for Peeta, she didn't say well this is as good as it gets...no she actively chose Peeta every single time. She knew him intimately when she described him with swoon-worthy words:

You're a painter. You're a baker. You like to sleep with the windows open. You never take sugar in your tea. And you always double-knot your shoelaces.

She always thought of him...chose him:

When he was reaped she expressed immediate remorse "Oh no not him, not the boy with the bread."

When he was reaped in The Hunger Games: "To this day, I can never shake the connection between this boy, Peeta Mellark, and the bread that gave me hope, and the dandelion that reminded me that I was not doomed."

In the Arena, the Hunger Games: “The idea of actually losing Peeta hit me again and I realized how much I don’t want him to die. And it’s not about the sponsors. And it’s not about what will happen back home. And it’s not just that I don’t want to be alone. It’s him. I do not want to lose the boy with the bread.”

To Haymitch in Catching Fire: ″‘Like you said, it’s going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it’s his turn to be saved. We both owe him that.’ My voice takes on a pleading tone. ‘Besides, the Capitol hates me so much, I’m as good as dead now. He still might have a chance.‘” (Katniss was ready to die for him and is begging Haymitch to die for him too)

In Catching Fire the Arena: I realize only one person will be damaged beyond repair if Peeta dies. Me. "I do", I say. "I need you."

In District 13 in Mockingjay: I drink in his wholeness, the soundness of his body and mind. It runs through me like the morphling they give me in the hospital, dulling the pain of the last weeks.

In District 13 in Mockingjay, she is deeply depressed without him. She is suffering from PTSD and doesn't have her support system there. She misses Peeta. Katniss pines for him - keeps the pearl he gave her nearby...

"Sometimes when I’m alone, I take the pearl from where it lives in my pocket and try to remember the boy with the bread, the strong arms that warded off nightmares on the train, the kisses in the arena."

"My mockingjay pin now lives with Cinna’s outfit, but there’s the gold locket and the silver parachute with the spile and Peeta’s pearl. I knot the pearl into the corner of the parachute, bury it deep in the recesses of the bag, as if it’s Peeta’s life and no one can take it away as long as I guard it."

By the end of the book, after watching her sister die, and having shot Coin - Katniss loses it...and she becomes almost catatonic. Katniss blocks out everything when she comes back to District Twelve in Mockingjay:

"I haven’t left the house. I haven’t even left the kitchen except to go to the small bathroom a few steps off of it. I’m in the same clothes I left the Capitol in."

She cares for nothing and is forced to eat it's only when Peeta comes back that she becomes aware of her appearance and it's when she literally begins to live:

"When I see him, I pull up short. His face is flushed from digging up the ground under the windows. In a wheelbarrow are five scraggly bushes. “You’re back,” I say. “Dr. Aurelius wouldn’t let me leave the Capitol until yesterday,” Peeta says. “By the way, he said to tell you he can’t keep pretending he’s treating you forever. You have to pick up the phone.” He looks well. Thin and covered with burn scars like me, but his eyes have lost that clouded, tortured look. He’s frowning slightly, though, as he takes me in. I make a halfhearted effort to push my hair out of my eyes and realize it’s matted into clumps." ...-... "Back upstairs, I throw open the bedroom windows to clear out the rest of Snow’s stench. But it still lingers, on my clothes and in my pores. I strip, and flakes of skin the size of playing cards cling to the garments. Avoiding the mirror, I step into the shower and scrub the roses from my hair, my body, my mouth. Bright pink and tingling, I find something clean to wear. It takes half an hour to comb out my hair. Greasy Sae unlocks the front door. While she makes breakfast, I feed the clothes I had shed to the fire. At her suggestion, I pare off my nails with a knife."

Katniss chose to be with Peeta, just like she chose to live when he came back...

[francixoxoxo]

⋆.✧˚𓇼𝒫ℯ𝒶𝓇𝓁𝓈 𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽ℯ 𝒮𝒶𝓃𝒹 𓆝𓆟

𝐏𝐢𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞!𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 𝐗 𝐌𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐁𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐲, 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐠𝐮𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫, 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐚𝐫𝐝. 𝐘𝐨𝐮, 𝐚 𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐮𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐚𝐟𝐚𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐲.

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭

Sorry for the wait but i couldnt bear hyping it up and putting out less than my best!! This au is my baby 🤭 @milliesfishes for supporting me through this whole idea!!! Enjoy!!

The sea was entrancing.

She drew you in. She let you believe she was docile, but it wasn’t a lie. She was beautiful and generous, the sea. Frequently kind, but she was suddenly and at a whim cruel.

Billy had been absolutely in love with the sea since boyhood, growing up along the coast with his mother and brother, Joe. About as in love as a man could be with an indescribable force. A force he could not hope to understand. Understanding the sea, in his mind, was accepting that even if you were to know, you couldn’t get. He was all right with that.

Now that the sea seemingly wanted to thrash his body ‘round and drown the life from his lungs, well, he supposed he might’ve deserved it. Billy could see his life stretching before him, similar to the vastness of the same sea threatening to take that life, and frankly? He didn’t like the looks of things. He didn’t like the path he was on, a pirate on a crew of scum who did nothing but take. Take from the sea. Take from women. Take from innocents.

Perhaps, Billy thought, this was the sea gently cutting his thread short before it frayed. Letting him gracefully leave the stage, as a pirate with a reputation for violence despite his true, kind-hearted nature. Letting him exit before the former drowned out the latter.

Perhaps this was the sea embracing him as he had always embraced her.

Just a moment ago Billy had been slamming his fist into Ollinger’s jaw. That dick, Billy thought bitterly, though he didn’t want his last thoughts to be of the scraggly bastard. He’d just been begging for it, ever since he came aboard. He let the older man throw the first punch, but he was a fool to think that Billy wouldn’t fight back.

It all happened very quick. Suddenly, the wooden railing was digging into Billy’s back. He whipped his head over his shoulder, gaping at the waves rushing by the moving boat. He was scrambling to find purchase, to get back to his feet, but Ollinger made it impossible. “Bob, Bob, hey— don’t— Ollinger, stop. Don’t do this—“

Ollinger sneered at Billy, panting like a dog and obviously relishing in the other man’s panick. He snorted, rolling his shoulder to shake off the hand of a crewmate. The tussle was gaining some attention from the other men.

“Hope y’can swim, Kid.” Ollinger spat, shoving Billy into the waters below.

Oh, fresh air was freedom.

You’d certainly get in trouble with your mother for being above the surface, but that seldom worried you anymore. You felt such a powerful sense of freedom, such a compelling desire to do what you were forbidden against.

It felt like discovery.

Yes, sometimes you longed to gush to your many sisters about your findings, the breeze, the beautiful stars and the warmth of the sun. But it felt nice, sometimes, to keep it all to yourself. The secluded beach you’d lay upon, watching the sand run through your fingers— it was for you. You’ve never had anything completely and truly of your own.

Today you weren’t particularly in the mood for the shore of the nearby port town. You were laying out on some rocks a ways away instead. That was the beauty of this thing, the secret you had to yourself— you could do exactly as you pleased!

Well. Exactly as you pleased until it came to men.

You’d slipped underwater from the rocks you were sunning yourself on when the boat approached. Despite what everybody seemed to think, you weren’t that foolish. You knew that a mermaid laying on the rocks was like finding a nice steak in the middle of the desert. The thought irked you, but you couldn’t ignore the myths that every part of your body would sell for plenty in a market.

From what your mother and sisters have told you? Men were monsters. Men’d harpoon a woman like you through the chest before you could open your mouth to speak. You’d been told horror stories about sailors cutting mermaids at the hip, selling their tails and locks of their hair.

But you were certain those stories were fake, conjured by cruel adolescent girls to torment their little sister. Not that you had much of a reason to believe otherwise.

You reminded yourself of that as you held onto the rocks, peeking your eyes out of the water and watching the vessel. It was close enough for you to see the commotion on board; two men having it out, one much broader and younger, but one with an obvious thirst to see the other one bleed. It was in their nature, you supposed.

It was dangerous to be watching so close. Your mother’s reprimanding words rang in your ears. But the boat was moving so slowly, as if the tussle was begging for your eyes on it.

Before you knew it, harmless, boyish punches and wrestling turned into one man being held over the railing. The broader man was falling into the sea, the men aboard shouting their lungs out. With the size of the boat? The height of his fall and the current today? Oh, he hardly had a chance.

You waited a moment. Then another. Your eyes flickered twixt the boat and where the water rippled from the man’s fall, chest heaving with the thumping of your heart. You couldn’t just leave him to drown, you thought as you counted ten seconds underwater. It was obvious the undertow had him. You forgot the old tales about violent men— your conscience outweighed your fear.

You were swimming to him in an instant. He was still trying to swim against the current, poor thing. You wrapped your arms around his middle, clearly shocking him, because he writhed in your arms and turned to look at you with wide eyes. Oh, what pretty eyes he had. The deepest of blues, a pure and clear color, one that struck through your chest and into your heart. Before you knew it, those eyes were fluttering shut, his stiff body going limp in your arms.

Enough staring. You reminded yourself that you were supposed to be saving him.

You swam as fast as your tail could take you, gliding through the water effortlessly. You glanced down at the man, only for a brief moment, distressed to see that his eyes were still closed. God, why were humans so stupidly fragile?

Soon enough you were lifting him onto the shore, even putting the effort to haul him onto the dry sand. Maybe the heat of the sun-warmed grains would help, you thought, eyes wandering to his legs. You felt more calm than you should’ve around a human man.

You leaned over him, folding your glittering tail under yourself. The water in his lungs wouldn’t kill him, you were certain. Just to be sure, you pressed your lips to his, coaxing the fluid from his lungs. Nothing more than curtesy, you told yourself. Only because a kiss from your kind could let a man breath through water. You were careful to wipe it from his chin as he choked it out. You spooked a bit, wondering if the man’d wake, but no. He was still unconscious.

With that comfort, you leaned your face close to him, squinting at his features. He didn’t seem vicious.

You stroked your pointer finger along the slope of his aquiline nose, intrigued. He was quite handsome, really. The set of his mouth and his plush lips, he just seemed kind. Out of curiosity, you pushed your fingernail under his top lip, lifting it and finding that his teeth were not in fact razor-sharp, like your mother had told you. You hummed, pleased.

You couldn’t help stroking the backs of your fingers along his jaw, his forehead, his stubbled cheeks.. you rather liked the rough texture under your skin. Curiously, you leaned your face closer to his, narrowing your eyes at the man.

You’d been told men were dangerous. But this one didn’t seem so bad.

Your hand drifted down to lay over his chest, feeling the strong thump of his heartbeat under your palm. What a relief! Your other elbow rested above his opposite shoulder, your face hovering over his. You brushed your hair off his forehead, the dripping locks falling around your face and onto his. He was certainly more handsome than the mermen where you were from. You didn’t fight the excited smile splitting your lips.

The man’s eyelashes began to flutter, though, and you pushed yourself a bit further above him out of curtesy. His eyes opened a crack, then a bit more upon realizing he wasn’t in fact looking into the sun, but a woman, a beautiful one at that. His blue eyes twinkled, and for a moment he just stared, and you did the same.

Well, what could you say?

“Hey.” The man mumbled, his brows drawing together and a faint smile stretching his features. Oh, he wasn’t just handsome, he was gorgeous.

You hadn’t moved your hand from his heartbeat, you could feel the rhythm of it accelerating. “Hi.”

“S’ this heaven?” He asked, voice low and gravelly from the saltwater. “You an angel?” His eyes flicked downward, settling on your chest. His dark brows lifted, as if there was something surprising down there, you looked down at yourself. No, nothing special. Though you did notice that he was wearing fabric over his own chest. Maybe a cultural difference.

It wasn’t until the man’s eyes drifted further down—catching a glimpse of the way your hips melted into iridescent scales, a tail of blues, pinks and purples, colors impossible for a man to name— that his blue eyes became buggy, his brows drawing again.

“Or a mermaid?”

Billy was entranced from the moment his eyes fluttered open and you were looming over him.

It was something indescribable. Something about you, some radiant, iridescent glow hanging around you, some unknowable way about you— it was as if just the glimmer in your eyes put a spell on him. You were otherworldly.

The simplest of hellos from you was all he needed to fall head over feet, the sweet flutter of your eyelashes all he needed to be at your whims.

Billy only understood just what it was about you that was so opalescent, so undoubtably esoteric, when he glanced down to see that where your hips would’ve connected to a pair of legs, there was only a tail. A tail full of beautiful scales shimmering colors like stained glass in a cathedral, the sunlight moving over the sleek of them similar to the way the light danced over the waves washing onto the shore.

a tail. A mermaid.

Well, it wasn’t like Billy’s never heard of one. No, quite the opposite. Practically every man on his crew (his crew, the image of Ollinger brought a sour taste to his mouth,) raved about some time or other that they’d encountered a mermaid. Dick claimed to have caught one, but that it slipped away when he turned his back. Jesse said once he heard the melodic voice of one.

Ollinger, that bastard, said that on his old crew, they got one in their fishing nets. Hauled her aboard, had a good cheers, and—

“What’d you even do with her?” Billy had asked, furrowing his brow. It irked him to imagine just what pirates had to do with such majestic creatures, creatures with a heart and a soul just as they had.

Well. Probably a heart and soul of a purer kind. “Well, y’sell the tail, that’s the big one.” A cruel smile had spread over Bob Ollinger’s cheeks, one that dripped with a devilish greed that flashed behind Billy’s eyes like a warning sign. “We cut her straight ‘cross at the belly. Y’shoulda heard her cryin’, Kid, ya woulda gone green over the railing.” Billy certainly felt green then.

Looking up at you now, meeting your enthralling eyes, recalling Ollinger and by association the mortifying chill of saltwater enveloping him, he came to a sure conclusion. “I almost drowned.” Billy breathed.

You just nodded your pretty little head, eyes suddenly round and doey. He was beginning to wonder if he imagined you speaking. Billy went on, voice soft and low, meant only for your ears. “N’ you saved me.”

A shy smile overtook your lips, which he’d dare say were perfectly shaped. “I did.” There was that voice. You could speak. Oh, and something about your timbre was so unbelievably melodic, a lilted and sweet alto. But he tried to stay on track.

“Why?” Billy’s eyebrows drew together, his forehead creasing as he grimaced. He shook his head a bit, daring to rest his calloused hand over your soft one on his chest. It felt a bit like getting dirt on a diamond, his roughened, fishhook-pierced and rope-scathed fingertips over your gentle knuckles. But the warmth of it was something he wasn’t sure he could move away from.

“It just..” You frowned suddenly, those pretty eyes becoming downcast. The very ends of your eyelashes were blonde against your sun-kissed cheeks, he noticed. “Seemed like the right thing to do. I couldn’t leave you there.”

Billy shook his head, swallowing hard. The painful action twisted his face in a wince. “You could’ve.” He murmured, lifting your hand up to his eyes to squint. He wasn’t sure what he expected. Perfectly normal. Though maybe the webbing twixt your fingers was a bit longer, you could’ve passed as a human woman. Besides the long, oval sharpness to your fingernails. Certainly not like razors, but still.

You seemed to be flattered by his foggy-minded curiosity, because you twisted your hand to hold his, your fingers intertwining. “Well. I didn’t want to.” You cooed in a cheerful, nearly teasing voice.

A heart and soul of a purer kind, Billy thought.

He let a lopsided grin overtake his plush lips, and you mirrored him with the sweetest, most unbelievably beautiful smile he’d ever seen. Christ, he barely— no, he didn’t know you at all, and he was beginning to wonder if he’d throw himself back into the tide at your request.

“How’d you get me breathin’ again?” Billy couldn’t help but ask, a shiver running up his spine at the hollow memory. It had been like water invaded every one of his senses, the life choked out of him excruciatingly. How could he possibly have come back from that?

You hummed in amusement, shrugging your shoulders simply, “a kiss.”

“A kiss?” Billy breathed, his brows lifting. You just hummed affirmatively. He supposed he ought not to question it. Though he sorely regretted missing a kiss from you.

Your free hand was curiously inspecting his own hand, his knuckles, the splay of sand-sprayed hair over his exposed forearms. Maybe it was then that Billy realized you were inspecting him just as curiously as he was watching you.

“I’m Billy.” He breathed after a moment. He wasn’t sure why you’d care to know, but it just slipped out. A part of him desperately hoped that name would mean something to you.

You smiled softly, testing how the name felt on your tongue. “Billy.” You repeated. You rather liked the ring of it. You told him your own name in a lilted voice.

“Suits you.” Was all Billy could manage, his eyes greedily drinking you in, trying to commit you to memory. You shifted a bit, leaning a little further down to him, your wet tresses falling around yours and Billys faces like a silky privacy curtain. Oh, your hair smelled like amber and fresh laundry, Billy wondered how that could even be.

But he was beginning to think that questioning any bit of you was moot.

So Billy was content to stare up at you for a few moments, the sea breeze mussing his hair, sand probably finding its way into the dark locks, catching in his eyelashes. “You a daredevil or something?” It was silly of him to say, he knew, but he couldn’t help trying to draw a laugh out of you. A stupid smile overtook his own lips as a giggle spilled from yours.

“What does that mean?” You shook your head, that warm smile pushing your rosy cheeks up and crescenting your bright eyes. Billy’s mind was hazy still, his voice low and a bit slurred as he shrugged. “S’ a little dangerous, for a mermaid t’be up here, don’t y’think?”

You hummed a little thoughtfully, casting a long glance to the sea. The waves were lapping gently against the sand, cresting and falling languidly yet with purpose. “Maybe.” You pressed your lips, brows lifting. “I think it’s worth the risk.”

Billy grunted in acknowledgement, his eyes still flicking over your face, your sun-tanned and freckled shoulders, your dark tresses (poignantly avoiding your breasts peeking from beneath the strands,) and of course your tail. He wasn’t looking at you like an object to buy or sell for his own gain or pleasure. He was looking at you like a sculpture, like a temple of a religion he’d willingly devote his life to, that he’d willingly pray to and worship.

You just had that effect, you supposed. It wasn’t off putting, but it certainly put a silly, girlish feeling in your stomach and a smile on your face. It was a good feeling, how Billy was admiring you.

“I should go.” You murmured, your eyes flicking back to the tide as you tucked some hair behind your ear. Splitting the curtain. You could guess that the boat would come to port in less than an hour, and surely they’d come looking for Billy. “You should wait at the dock for your crew.”

Billy’s brows drew together, suddenly alarmed by the thought of going away from you. “Will I see you again?” His lips parted over his teeth in a grimace, he shook his head. “I don’t mean t’sound…” No. He discarded the idea of apologizing, of letting you slip through his fingers like water.

“I wanna see you again.” Billy murmured, the sincerity in his sapphire eyes striking. You’d absolutely enchanted this man.

You pressed your lips together again. Could you really trust him? Truly, really trust him enough to meet him again, and risk becoming a horror story to be told to some other little girl? Your curiosity would be the death of you, your mother had always warned. “You may.”

A lopsided smile overtook Billy’s lips, his brows raising. It was better than nothing, he supposed. It’d be silly for him to expect a single thing from you; he was only a man, after all, and you were this ethereal, otherworldly woman. He brought your hand to his lips, kissing the backs of your fingers tenderly.

“Then ‘till I see you again,” Billy mumbled your name nearly reverently, watching as you slipped away from him with a sugar-sweet smile and a twinkle in your eyes. Watching as you disappeared into the tides.

It was very, very possible he’d never see you again. Oh, that thought was like swallowing an anchor. If he never saw you with his own eyes, Billy thought, he’d certainly see you in dreams.

The moment he stepped back onto the Seven Rivers he was met with Bob Ollinger’s scraggly, dog-like face. He was standing beside Jesse, who had a guilty expression. Come to think of it, the whole crew was hardly looking at Billy, like he was a horse with a bad leg or something. Like they all felt guilty for letting Ollinger throw him overboard.

“No hard feelings, Kid?” Ollinger sniffed, curling his ugly lip at Billy. He narrowed his eyes, looking twixt him and Jesse.

“Just a few.” Billy grunted, pushing a hand through his wet hair. Within moments, that strange tension dissolved from the crew, and then came the loads of questions. How had he survived seemed to be the overall sentiment.

Billy could only shrug, give the credit to God. He wasn’t sure why the notion of telling these guys about you felt.. wrong. Perhaps it was his own selfish desire to keep you to himself (though he really never had you,) or perhaps it felt like ratting you out, sending rotten men on your trail. Perhaps both.

A few torturous days passed. Absolutely tortuous.

Billy cast endless longing glances into the waves, hoping with all the strength of his heart that he’d see you. You’d stuck in his mind like glue, enrapturing every crevice with your sweet voice, your kind eyes, your opalescence.

He’d never felt like such a wistful fool. Frankly, he was beginning to wonder if you were a figment of his imagination, that in his dazy, water-logged state he’d been seeing mirages.

In his hopeless effort to hold onto the fleeting memory of you, while the rest of the crew went out drinking in the town pub, Billy stayed back to ‘watch the ship.’ In reality he was slipping off his boots and stuffing his socks into them, rolling up his trousers to mid-calf and walking along the shore.

The moonlight danced on the dark tide, the cold water and sea foam swirling around his feet. The only light was that moonlight, demure and casting the beach in an ethereal glow that was painfully reminiscent of you.

Billy was a fool to think he’d truly see you again, wasn’t he?

He treaded wearily on the sand, his worn boots in hand, his azure eyes flicking twixt the sea and his feet. This must’ve been that siren’s effect, that spell that so many sailors had warned him of. You had such a tight hold on his mind.

Billy thought he was imagining it, those first faint notes. He tried shaking it off, but the further he walked along the water the song only grew louder. An ethereal alto, a voice that could pierce through titanium and straight to a man’s soul.

He began to walk with more purpose. The voice became louder, louder and clearer, your words shining brightly through the notes. He was absolutely certain they were yours.

“And you want to travel with her, and you want to travel blind,”

“and you know that she will trust you, for you’ve touched her perfect body with her mind.”

“And Jesus was a sailor when he walked upon—“

You stopped singing, that beautiful sound dying in your throat as you felt his presence. You shifted on the rock you’d been sitting on, jutting out from the shore and hanging slightly over the tide. Your tail shone under the moonlight, dancing on your scales and casting them nearly silver. No, not silver. Opal. Pale yet full of color. Billy could tell that much, as you twisted to look at him, dark tresses falling over your back.

Billy approached slowly, as if you’d spook and slip through his fingers again. “S’ you.” He breathed, shaking his head in a bit of disbelief. Oh, the smile that overtook your sweet lips lifted the weight off his heart.

“Little old me.” You hummed, eyes crinkling with mirth. Maybe you sung a little tune on purpose. Maybe you just wanted to lure him close, ‘cause you knew that your angelic voice would reel him in like a sunfish on a fishing line.

Billy sat on the ledge of the rock, setting his worn boots on his other side and leaning to you. You were sprawled across the length of the rock, your tail laid out and your upper half held up by your hands behind you. He twisted to you, you turned to look at him.

“I wanted to see you again, too.” You smiled, relishing in the way those puppy-dog eyes twinkled at you.

Billy chuckled a bit, shaking his head again. He was beaming. You wanted to meet him? “Aren’t I lucky?”

“Why would you be lucky?” You furrow your brows, shifting to fold your tail underneath you and scoot beside him. Billy watched you move, shrugging and trying his best to keep his eyes off your body.

“Ain’t like just any man gets the pleasure of your company.” Billy smiled goofily and lopsided, but his tone was smooth.

You hummed thoughtfully, watching him look out to the ocean. “Well, you aren’t just any man.” In his eyes, there’s not a damn thing about him worth your time. But he’s not seeing himself through yours. You find him unbelievably handsome, rugged yet kind. If you thought him anything like the stories of cruel men, why would you be here with him?

You tell him so. Billy smiles shyly, looking down at his lap and his calloused hands. “I hope m’not.”

“If you try not to be, that already means you aren’t. Not deep down.” You coo. That little smile of his grows into a grin as you reach for his hand, turning it over and pressing a smooth little shell into his palm.

In the moonlight, the soft cream looks almost an ethereal blue. Billy turns it over carefully, as if he’ll crack it. The inside is a rich purple, one that fades into a soft lavender at the edges. “F’me?”

“Mhm.” You can’t resist a giggle. You figured the best way to get acquainted would be a little gift. “If you come back, I could give you more.” You add cheekily, your girlish joy practically glowing from you.

Billy laughs a bit. As if he needs any incentive to want to see you. “Y’know, I don’t need any reason t’come back besides seein’ your face.” He chuckles, looking up at you. Christ, you really are gorgeous. More gorgeous when his mind isn’t waterlogged and his eyes aren’t hazy.

Another smile graces your lips. You bow your head, picking at your fingers in your lap. Your lap of shimmering scales— another reminder of how different you are from this man. You can’t help mumbling, “You barely know me.”

“Y’know, that’s a reason t’come back. T’get t’know you.” Billy coos, tilting his head to meet your eyes. When your brows draw sweetly he adds lowly, “I really, really wanna know you.”

A soft sigh escapes your lips. The way he murmurs those words deeply, the sincerity in his eyes, his undeniable interest in you… Oh, what trouble this could get you in!

But those lips, plush and soft, they’d been calling to you. Butterflies scattered across your stomach, an excited smile creeping across your own lips just before you burst forward and kissed him. Immediately his roughened hand came up to gently cradle your face, his forehead creasing as he kissed you with all the tenderness such a rugged man could muster.

Your lips were as close to heaven as he’d ever get, Billy knew.

You filled his every sense as you had for the past week. But this was much more real. He regretted his need for oxygen, one that you apparently didn’t know he had, since you only chased after his lips until they disconnected. Billy chuckled breathlessly.

You leaned away, a bit sheepish. “Sorry.” Billy just shook his head absentmindedly. His blue eyes twinkled with mirth and awe as you went on with a shy glint in your eye. “I’ve never done that before.”

Billy cracked a grin, a snort leaving his nose as he let his hand fall from your cheek to your bare shoulder. His callouses were a welcome sensation on your smooth skin. “You kiddin’ me?” A giggle bubbled past your lips as you shook your head passionately.

“Well, aren’t I lucky?” Billy breathes, repeating himself and wondering if he looked like a fool, with eyes so bright with admiration for you. But who could blame him? He felt as though he was in the presence of an angel. God, if he was your first kiss, he wanted to be your last.

It was a strange feeling. Perhaps an hour ago Billy resigned to never know the whimsical feeling of your attention again. A blessing, to be allowed to touch you. A blessing to know you. A blessing to be here with you.

You were a blessing of your own. The sea had given him one of her daughters, if only for a moment.

[drarry-reccage]

To Be Like Geese by @writandromance (211k, M)

Tags: post-war, slow burn

As one, the ballroom bursts into action, multiple Aurors running towards Agnes then halting in their tracks, hesitant to touch her. The security attendants to the side of the stage sweep towards Harry, muscling him back towards curtained safety even as he fights to stay in the action. “No!” he yells, pulling at his shoulders, trying to loosen the Aurors’ restraint even while his eyes dart around the ballroom, following the commotion. He knows, beneath the adrenaline, that a dozen Ministry officials are already at Agnes’ side, but he can also see them hesitating to do anything. Hermione would likely refer to his current urge to join them as more of his ‘impulsive heroism.’ He has no clue what he would do if he reached the action. All he knows is that disappearing behind the stage curtains very much feels like the wrong answer. The muscled men don’t lessen their hold though, as they haul him off the platform. The last thing Harry manages to see before he’s separated from the chaos is Malfoy, wand pointed directly at Agnes, staring furiously and unblinkingly at her bloody form.

(Rec by @sweatersinthesummer)

[racewinners-landoandsam]

You are so right about the team and orders. In Hungary when they guilt tripped Lando into fixing their own mistake, the team told him “you can’t win a championship on your own, you’ll need Oscar” okay like when are you going to make that happen? When is Oscar going to pay that forward? Wouldn’t the smart thing in Monza have been to tell Oscar to hold up and cover Lando then start building a gap? It does feel like Lando is on his own at times with McLaren.

I know it’s been a year, but Carlos was more of a teammate to Lando in Singapore, than Oscar was today.

you're so true about singapore. carlos did something that benefitted him and lando, oscar only did something that benefitted himself, it meant lando lost a place as well.

lando has been loyal to the team since they signed and supported him. he did work experience around the garage when he was eighteen, so he was ready to start the following year. he's had interest from other top teams, but has chosen to stay with mclaren. he's had talks with red bull and chosen to sign a mclaren contract the very next day.

six years he has been loyal to this team. he has never been out qualified by a teammate, even in his rookie season.

in 2019 he finished the championship 47 points behind his more experienced teammate.

in 2020 he closed that gap down to 8 points behind carlos, and helping to secure 3rd place in the championship.

in 2021 there was so much talk about daniel embarrassing lando out of the sport, he responded by beating his teammate who had been in the sport for 8 years longer.

in 2022 he increased that gap and outscored him by 85 points, which ultimately ended in daniel losing his seat.

in 2023 lando beat oscar by 108 points, which is crazier when you think about how many people were talking about how good oscar was in his rookie season.

lando has proved again and again how good he is, even when the machinery he's given isn't as good as he makes it look. the mclaren has only really been good since austria 2023, and since then lando has had 17 podiums, including 2 wins. before then he's had 6 podiums. he was the only driver not in the top three teams to get a podium in 2022.

there is a reason so many of the older/former drivers like lando so much. fernando, lewis, nico, jenson, have all spoken about how good lando is. all championship winning drivers, surely that counts for something.

when nico rosberg is telling zak brown they need to prioritise lando, surely something clicks there. when your driver is second place in the championship with their competitor not qualifying well, surely something clicks there. i'm all for drivers racing, but mclaren have a chance here. they may keep it up for next year, they may even keep it up when the regulations change. but why risk it, when they have a chance of a championship this year.

lando has stuck with mclaren through the bad years. joined with a team that had one of their worst years in 2018. he watched his teammate get a win in 2021, followed the team orders and stayed behind, then at the next race he got so close to his win, but mclaren let him make the decision about the tyres, which never should have been his decision. then in 2022 the car was awful, mclaren were no where near with the regulations, but he got a podium regardless. in 2023 the team got it right, but he still accepted that he wasn't going to get a win, max was too far ahead. now the team have two good drivers, a car that looks to be the fastest at most tracks, yet they still keep bottling wins, and still won't prioritise lando's championship.

oscar is doing much better this year, his race pace has improved a lot, but lando is faster. we all know how much faster he was at hungary, but he still listened to team orders, because he is a team player, and surely at some point he should be rewarded for that.

surely at some point his loyalty, and his skill should be seen and rewarded. he has been the top driver since 2021, it makes no sense that oscar keeps getting preferential treatment.

it kind of feels like gentle parenting. lando got a win, so oscar should get a win too. it's stupid.

anyway, sorry for rambling, i'm pissed off at the moment, and needed to do the research to prove how stupid mclaren are and how amazing lando is!!

[sandeewithtwoe]

Rejected gift

In case you can’t read my writing:

Nightmare: Ah, Horror. Just the guy I wanted to see

Horror: Huh? Me? Really?

Nightmare: Absolutely! In fact, I’ve got you a reward for all you work

Horror: Aw, thanks Bosssssssssss..?

Nightmare: ta-daaaah! Oh your face! You must really like him

Horror: N-Nightmare… Is… is he..?

Nightmare: Ah! No, he’s not dead (yet). Just passed out

Nightmare: We can put him on your walls! Kinda like a painting-

Horror: NO!

Nightmare: No? Why not?

Horror: Because… it’s cause I don’t have space left in my room!

Nightmare: I can give you a bigger room?

Horror: But you can’t! Cause if you do, it’s not fair for the others! You’ll have to give a bigger room for Dust and Killer too!

Nightmare: Ugh, you’re right, that IS a hassle…

(Killer: why can’t I have a bigger room?!

Dust: my imaginary bro an I would also like a bigger room)

Nightmare: Here, you can take him back to his AU. I have other things to do

Horror: W-Wait! Where did you- Aaaaaaand he’s gone. Great.

(Later)

Farmer: *doesn’t remember what happened*… Did I fell asleep?

[anemicpopnatural]

My cas knew first manifesto

Whole of the moon // Destiel

[nerdishpursuits]

Mind you. Marta’s only been the CEO for a week or so, if we’re considering the show’s timeline. And in the unenviable position of having to clean up after everyone’s mess. So it kinda cracks me up that but one day ago, Fina was telling Marta that she’d have patience, of course. That to love, also means knowing when to yield. When to compromise. Looks to me like that’s going to be tested.

Would Marta, on a whim, cancel their date night in Madrid, after all the planning she did and how enthusiastic she was about it? The answer is no. If anything, it must be killing her, to be letting Fina down in what feels like a sequence of failed plans together. I don’t think, for one moment, that Marta wants Fina, and their relationship, to be sacrificed at the alter of corporate interest. The look on her face, when she told Fina she cannot go, was one of profound sadness and frustration with the unjust hand she’d just been dealt.

As repetitive as this particular storyline feels, there’s also the truth that, often, things don’t go as planned. Marta accepted the reins of the company and everything that entails. Now, as the CEO, she has to answer to clients and continue to secure employment for the workers. Not to mention that, as a woman in charge, there’s even more pressure to ensure everything runs smoothly. It’s 1958: she’s going to be tested, and contested, left and right. Should anything go awry? She’ll be blamed first. Because in that kind of a social climate a woman cannot be entrusted to lead, lest the consequences be dire. She’ll be seen as either weak, or hysterical, or unprepared, or not decisive enough. She’ll be accused of lacking business acumen or of being too lenient. Even as the most prepared person in the room, they’ll always find her lacking, somehow. Marta’s life right now? It’s a walking nightmare and a hotbed of endless, bone-deep stress.

Is the situation ideal? Hell no. Marta’s is in such hot water right now. She’s basically, single-handedly, trying to keep the company afloat and save them from disaster. A disaster caused by Luis, who refused to comply with contractual obligations. Which, in turn, has landed them in a difficult situation with one of their most important clients.

But lo and behold: does anyone hold Luis responsible and drags him off of his high horse? No. Does Andres step in to help his sister? Of course not (he’s too busy chasing after his own personal interests). And so many others are just waiting to see Marta fail. The Merino who, for some misguided reason, have decided to paint a target on Marta’s back, as if she’s solely responsible for their suffering, not Damián and Jesús. Jesús himself, who is all but salivating at the thought of Marta failing, incessantly plotting against her. And countless other men in positions of power, who will want to get their way in negotiations and business deals. Marta couldn’t find herself in a more impossible situation, work-wise, if she tried.

That being said. Do I think Fina is wrong in feeling utterly despondent and like Marta is failing to choose her too? No. I think it’s perfectly normal to feel discarded at this point, to feel … invisible. But I also remember it’s only been one week or so. There’s no way Marta can assume leadership and organize it all in such a short period of time. That’s impossible. Were they both counting the minutes until their date night? Definitely. And I hate that, once more, we don’t get to see them go to the opera together, sharing much needed time as a couple. Do I think Marta needs to find better work-life balance? No doubt about it. Does she need to delegate? Yes: if only there was anyone she could delegate to, anyone she could trust. Also, let’s not forget there’s tasks she can only handle herself, by virtue of her position. To say nothing of the current impossibility of coming home to Fina after an exhausting day at the office. Which further complicates things, because they get so little time together.

In the end, patience is needed. Fina’s a bit of a powder-keg, and we love her for it, but she needs to remember her own words. Marta’s spread too fucking thin right now and she’d never cancel on her by choice. Marta herself told her she’s the most beautiful thing she has, the rest only a string of endless problems. That she’d never set them aside, if she could help it. And never willingly.

Do actions need to match words? One hundred percent. And they will. Marta is a woman of her word. We all know she wants to be with Fina just as badly. It’s just that some fine-tuning is needed, until a semblance of balance is found. That being said: they’d both benefit if Marta showed Fina, first-hand, all the shit she’s dealing with. A sort of A Day in the Life rundown. They need to find solutions together. Hopefully, they’ll do just that at some point.

At least we got a really great conversation between Isidro and Fina. And he’s right too. Fina doesn’t cease to be Fina if something has come up for Marta. She has a life too. And she shouldn’t put it on hold, but live it. Are Fina and Marta better off together, unstoppable as one? Always. But they are their own persons too, and formidable ones at that. They’ll find a way, eventually. Until then: drama galore because the show must go on.

Things will get better. And, as always, when in doubt? Marta and Isidro still haven’t had their famous conversation. So nothing’s lost. As much as Fina wants to set fire to the company right now? It feeds them all. And keeps roofs over their heads. Many people depend on Marta doing her job well. They just have to keep it together, for a little longer. The sun will shine again. And the stars too. They always do 🤗

P.s. Fina defending Jacinto? Expected nothing less from her. Let a beautiful friendship commence!!! 🥳

P.s. 1 How is a woman of Carmen’s calibre married to a troglodyte like Tasio? Make it make sense. Love may be blind but this kind of a situation never ceases to be a conundrum 😤

[incorrectgenv]