#x marks the ed

[grapemoon]

By Jove, he’s silly!

[eddwardmarianvincent]

“ARE WE JUST ABOUT DONE?!”

[peanutsmixedwithjuice]

every ted ship i could remember but i locked in

@sophiethesoapster i want you to be here

[kinokoshoujoart]

30 days of Harvest Moon day 23 - wedding / rhythm

these are the genders apparently i don’t make the rules (natsume and xseed rock makes the rules)

[eenedump]

>Watching youtube on my phone

>tumblr notification pops up

>imediately removes from the screen

>”…wait what”

[perpendicularpotatoes]

3 - Coconut War [Fic]

First image for Chapter 3 of The Marks Left On Your Skin. This is the last Jack chapter (also the last short chapter and the last that might still count as mature depending on your definitions)

Art progress pics below the jump.

Left one is from some point this summer. Particularly happy with the hair, the buried in sand effect and my absolute favorite—the thumb...

I think this thumb is one of the best things I've ever drawn. Here's a closeup without the shadow.

[dearstvckyx]

𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐮𝐦 𝟑

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐚 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐧𝐢𝐜𝐨 𝐡𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 ➜ 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞

Location: New Jersey

Liked by trevorzegras and 24,638,129 other

thelunahischier New Album out now!! along with Music Videos for Aphrodite, Mamas Song & Something Bad

tagged dixiedamelio teddysphotos

view all 11,629,149 comments

edwards.73: Naming a song after yourself is such a Luna thing to do 😭

⟶ thelunahischier: STOPPP ETHAN

colecaufield: YOUR SONGS ALWAYS MAKES ME CRY HOW ARE YOU DOING THAT

⟶ thelunahischier: magic cole 🥰

⟶ jackhughes: EVERY SONG COLE?

teddysphoto: A beautiful singer

⟶ thelunahischier: thank you ed 🩶🩶

lhughes_06: a song with my jersey number 😄

⟶ _quinnhughes: its also mine lukey

⟶ jackhughes: yet it’s probably about neither of you

⟶ thelunahischier: wellllll not reallly

trevorzegras: EVERYONE MRS LUNA APHRODITE HISCHIER

⟶ thelunahischier: Z🤭🥰

oliviaholzmacher: SUCH A PRETTY ALBUM 😭

⟶ thelunahischier: Liv 🤍🥰🥹

⟶ joeyb_9: she has been listening to it NON STOP

⟶ oliviaholzmacher: deal with it babe 😘

⟶ thelunahischier: yeah joey deal with it

dixiedamelio: something bad has some really good singers

⟶ thelunahischier: thats what i was saying, i wonder who they are 🤔

ninahischier: der sanfteste Sänger

⟶ thelunahischier: love youuuuu

_quinnhughes: tell me why mom called ME crying about mamas song

⟶ thelunahischier: really!?

⟶ _quinnhughes: yeah dad was in the back trying to calm her

mackie.samo: IF I LAY HERE

⟶ markestapa: IF I JUST LAY HERE

⟶ dylanduke25: WOULD YOU LIE WITH ME

⟶ noahwest31: AND JUST FORGET THE WORLD

jamie.drysdale: NOW RUMOR HAS IT SHE AINT GOT YOUR LOVE ANYMORE

⟶ _alexturcotte: BUT RUMOR HAS IT IM THE ONE YOURE LEAVING HER FOR

⟶ trevorzegras: BUT RUMOR HAS IT HES THE ONE IM LEAVING YOU FOR

nicodaws: you still don’t know your last name? 😉 😉

⟶ thelunahischier: nope, starts with an H thats all i know 🫣

njdevils: the username change 🫣👀

Translate:

der am weichsten Sängerin - the softest singer

[meimeiherokitten]

Well, duckies, thank @deskgirl for this!

I've never written soulmate au before, so let's see how this goes!

Izzy never believed in soulmates. Or soulmarks. Or any of that crap. So why does he have a new mark on his arm...?

[ticktockheartstop]

My current DBDA comics ratings:

1. Toby Litt and Mark Buckingham

2. The OG Neil Gaiman (The Sandman #25)

3. Ed Brubaker

4. Pornsak Pichetshote

Toby Litt and Neil Gaiman are close, then there’s a big gap between #2 and #3.

Ed Brubaker and Pornsak Pichetshote’s versions are pretty close in ranking. I liked that Charles and Edwin really seemed like themselves in Pornsak Pichetshote’s version, but I wasn’t a fan of the plot. Like seriously barely cared about anything but the Chedwin moments.

Meanwhile, Edwin and Charles weren’t really themselves in Ed Brubaker’s comics, but at least the plot was fun!

[leonskendy]

okay but i'm obsessed with how izzy has the raid makeup on when he goes to talk to ed in episode one and then when it cuts to the breakdown scene he's wiped it all off except for a smudge over the little x tattoo on his cheek

like he didn't want to look at it or something

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

hear me out, i havent stopped thinking about heartbroken ed's crew's new uniform vibes

izzy 'I'm not smearing that stuff on my face' hands vs ed 'it's not optional' teach: fight

outcome: izzy carefully applying precise eyeliner each morning using little more than the dim light of sunrise and one of the fancy trays stede left behind

[absencesrepetees]

hank mccoy in the avengers: no surrender (mark waid, jim zub, al ewing/pepe larraz, 2018) + extermination #2-3 (ed brisson/pepe larraz, 2018)

[theknucklehead]

The legend...

HAS RETURNED!!!

Yes, Weird Al Yankovic just dropped a new Polka medley just recently, and with it's own music video as well:

The songs included in this medley are:

Bad Guy - Billie Ellish

Hello - Adele

Flowers - Miley Cyrus

We Don't Talk About Bruno (Encanto)

Vampire - Olivia Rodrigo

Old Town Road - Lil Nas X

Despacito - Luis Fonsi ft. Daddy Yankee

Shape of You - Ed Sheeran

Uptown Funk - Mark Ronson ft. Bruno Mars

WAP - Cardi B. ft. Megan Thee Stallion (I actually can't believe he got away with this one)

Thank U, Next - Ariana Grande

Shake It Off - Taylor Swift

I do hope this means Al is planning on releasing a 15th album in the future!

[mceproductions]

Best of 2022 TV Shows #1: The Orville: New Horizons (Hulu)

For Seth Macfarlane his little show that could somehow managed to do the unthinkable.

Be the best show of the year.

All it took was a new network partner, upgrades in effects, story and quality to bring us some very compelling sci-fi.

With the timeline reset the Orville crew pick up the pieces and strained relationships in the process.

While not showing it, hurting most is the Kaylon Issac having burned all his bridges with the crew including newbie Charly who directly lost someone based on the attack.

But what this actually does is gives a real reason to root for the unthinkable.

Like Issac and Claire going the distance.

A peace summit between the Union and Krill that unfortunately dove into real world issues resulting in a coup.

Bortus going through the wringer of fatherhood with Topa and identity issues with his race and mate.

Kelly with mentoring an asylum seeker in the ways of the galaxy.

Lamar seeking advancement in command and love with his and Tallas unexpected connection.

Even Gordon who is given TVs single best episode this year as he unexpectedly makes a life for himself in 2025 Pasadena.

Pure wonder is brought within these 10 episodes.

11 if you count the Audible novella.

But if this is the last time we get to see the crew, we might as well take Gordon Malloys advice from his James Taylor Cover.

“Since we’re on our way down, might as Well Enjoy the ride.”

Oh, we enjoyed it Seth we certainly did.

SUM 22: Hulu gives New Horizons to the Crew of the Orville and delivers this years best show for it.

[perpendicularpotatoes]

6—Calypso's Birthday [Fic]

Just posted the second-to-last chapter of The Marks Left On Your Skin.

[Sketchy WIP and alternative version after the jump]

Just a regular WIP step this time, but it also gives a better view of the leg tattoos:

I did make version with the half up hair for continuity's sake (see second illustration), but felt it made everything feel unbalanced... also went back and forth on the shadow intensity.

[no-144444]

playing favourites- o.piastri

summary: your first season as an f1 driver doesn't start the best, and you quickly realise McLaren doesn't like women very much. On top of that, your race engineer is as smug as the rest of them, and you have to deal with him all the time.

pairing: race engineer! oscar piastri x f1driver! fem! reader

warnings: lots of misogyny, lando is an asshole in this, illusions to ed behaviour, reader is not in a good head space, all of mclaren is super sexist.

pls remember this is fiction and purely for fun!

part one | part two | part three | part four | part five

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It wasn’t exactly your plan to have a DNF on your first race but, thus the joys of a backmarker team. Zak had promised you, sworn even, that McLaren would be up there, fighting with Ferrari and RedBull. He’d told you that leaving RedBull would be worth it. Now, you were getting beaten by a fucking VCarb, the seat you could’ve had. You stalked over to Oscar once you got out of the car. 

“Care to fucking explain?” you scoffed. He looked at you, unimpressed. 

“It was an error with the steering wheel,” he shrugged. “Nothing you, or I, could’ve done.”

You sighed. “Of course not. Nothing anyone could’ve done, do you think the media will take that? Do you think this won’t mark my fucking career?! Oscar I need you to understand-” 

“Stop shouting at him, it wasn’t his fault,” Zak demanded. 

“Exactly, it’s yours. Make your car drivable,” you said before walking away. 

It was your reputation on the line, your career, your life. You’d worked to be in Formula One your entire life, you were the first woman in years. You didn’t have the option of  ‘just having a bad race’. You had to impress every single time, or else you’d be ridiculed. You knew what you’d see online tonight. You knew what people would say. You knew what questions you’d get from reporters. You knew it all. You’d done the song and dance a million times before, and you weren’t interested in doing it again. 

“SO, WHAT HAPPENED?” “YOUR FANS ARE DEMANDING ANSWERS?” “WAS THIS AN ACTUAL FAILURE OF THE CAR, OR JUST THE DRIVER?” “WHAT DID YOU SAY TO YOUR RACE ENGINEER AFTER?” “DO YOU TAKE RESPONSIBILITY FOR YOUR RACE?” “WHAT DO YOU SAY ABOUT PEOPLE’S OPINIONS ON YOUR DRIVING AFTER TODAY?” “SHOULD YOU HAVE STAYED AT REDBULL?” 

“ARE YOU EVEN A GOOD DRIVER?”

Walking out of the media pen, you had your head hung low and a blank expression. Every single reporter wanted to talk to you. Every question was more and more degrading, and you just felt empty by the end of it. Megan, your press officer, left you in the hallway of the motorhome and you leant against it and sighed. 

You couldn’t keep doing this. 

In recent months you’d been questioning whether or not any of this was worth it. Every single weekend of your career had been a step towards gender equality, you were the poster-girl for being a good driver, but it was always just not enough. You’d left RedBull because of it. You realised they’d never give you a seat and just continue to use you as a diversity hire. It hurt though, that had been your home for years. You’d always been a RedBull driver, since you were in karting. The whole lead up to your first race was months and months of questions, everyone wondering if you could finally show everyone that women deserved seats in F1. 

And you’d just fucked it up. 

You hadn’t even noticed that you’d started crying until you felt them on your cheeks. You quickly wiped them away, but it wasn’t quick enough to fool Oscar. He frowned as he looked at you, walking towards you. You rolled your eyes. “Don’t fucking pity me,” you scoffed. “Come on, we have to debrief,” you said, walking into the boardroom. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Oscar, when am I pitting?” you shouted, hoping he would finally fucking answer you. 

“I’m not sure yet, give me a moment Y/n-”

“Y’know it’s really fucking impressive how we finally get in the points and now I’m getting fucking undercut because you’re not fucking ready Oscar, this is ridiculous!” you shouted. 

“Pitting next lap,” he said, neutral. It pissed you off how level-headed he was. 

“Fuck off,” you muttered. You pitted next lap. You finished the race in P11. 

Shit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“Fuck!” you shouted at Oscar, getting out of the car. “This is such fucking bullshit.”

“Y/n-” he started.

“Just fuck off,’ you sighed, pushing his hand off your arm. “That would’ve been our best finish! P5?! And then Lando turns into me?!” 

He nodded. “Calm down,” he soothed. Your mood turned. 

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do,” you ripped your arm back. 

Lando DNFed. You DNFed. Shit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

P15, another failure. At least you’d gotten higher than Lando, stuck down in P17. 5 races in and 0 points between the two of you? Fucking hell. You’d never scored so badly in your life. You walked over to the barrier, finding Oscar standing there. 

“Sorry,” you sighed. “We’re so fucking slow.”

He nodded. “We’ll keep working.” 

You nodded, but you felt that same nausea twisting your gut. 

“Are you hungry?” he asked, somehow sensing it all. You shook your head. 

He stared at you a second longer, then took your answer, despite the way he sensed your lie. 

You two didn’t get along. He understood that. It didn’t mean he wasn’t aware of your insane diet and work out regimen. He was completely aware of the way you blame yourself despite the car being the only issue. He watched you work yourself to the bone. He almost wished you would be a bit more arrogant, like Lando, he wished it fell off your shoulders as easily as it did his. 

He couldn’t stand the media. The narrative they were pushing about you was ridiculous. You’d won every junior series, you’d waited your turn in RedBull, only to get kicked to the curb, you were good enough, but something told him you were starting to believe otherwise.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

“So what’s the issue?” Zak sighed, pacing the garage, starting one of his famous pep talks. 

“Y/n,” a voice from the back muttered and everyone's heads snapped to you. It had been one of the mechanics who had preferred Carlos, but you just shrugged. A few chuckles were heard, one of them coming from Lando himself, and you just continued what you were doing, staring off into space. 

“It’s the car we built,” Zak answered his own question, trying to do damage control. 

“She’s not exactly Hamilton,” Lando said, a little bit too loud, as he joked with his engineer. 

“She’s consistently placed in front of you in the same car,” Oscar pointed out, his voice neutral. “The only reason she DNFed in Saudi Arabia was because you turned into her. Also, you haven’t gotten any points.”

“What are you, her boyfriend?” He chuckled, making the garage laugh. You rolled your eyes, getting up and walking off. “Is she fucking PMSing?” 

Oscar’s blood boiled at the way his co-workers laughed at that, at you. You didn’t deserve this shit from Lando, from anyone. Oscar went after you. He stopped right outside your driver’s room. 

“I don’t know what to do.

He heard your voice, thick with emotion. 

“You’re not working hard enough, look at Lando. You have to pay your dues here, it’s how McLaren works. Go for a run and clear your head.”

“I’m exhausted-”

“I’m not asking.” 

He stepped back, letting the door swing open. You stared back at him with wide eyes. “Run?” he offered.

“She should go on her own-”

“Yeah, sure,” you shrugged. 

You didn’t like Oscar, but it was better than going alone. 

“What’s Richards’s problem?” he asked as you two ran the streets of  Miami in the pitch black of the night. Richard was your trainer.

“He’s just a bit of a pushover,” you shrugged. “He’s making me better.”

“He’s making you train more, relax less, and eat less,” Oscar pointed out. “Is that better?” 

“So you’re a health expert now?” you scoffed. “The gaul of you, to always assume that you know better than someone just because you can. It is fucking insane how much of an ego everyone here has.”

“Maybe you should get one,” he scoffed. 

“An ego? No thanks.”

“No, a backbone,” Oscar said. “You can’t let Lando walk all over you, he’s without.”

“Without what?”

He shrugged. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” you continued. “Explain.”

Oscar smirked. “Talent.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re so strange.”

And off you went, running again. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

P4, finally a good result, finally a result worth all the struggle, all the shit, everything.

But no one was at the barricade. None of your mechanics, no Zak, no one. Not even Oscar. You looked like a fucking idiot. Lando had DNFed. They were busy with him. McLaren was such a fucking boys club, and you didn’t fit in. You shook your head as you searched the barricade, not one familiar face to be had. Bullshit. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You walked back into the motorhome after all of your media duties, and you scoffed when they let out a half-hearted cheer. No celebration for you, only sympathy for Lanod, who crashed because of his own reckless driving, Lando who was totally fine, Lando. You pretended it didn’t hurt. You’d been congratulated by everyone else, every other driver, especially Danny, Liam, Yuki, Max, and Checo. They all gave you the biggest hug, told you how well you were doing, and celebrated you.  You wished you’d just stayed as their reserve driver. Maybe then you’d be something to someone. 

You stumbled into your driver’s room and found a note on your table, beside it, your favourite chocolate bar. 

Congratulations on your result, you deserve to be celebrated, but Lando sucks so we had to pretend that you aren’t incredible. I thought you’d enjoy something sweet, sorry we had to be the ones to leave the bitter taste in your mouth.

Osc. 

You stared down at it for a moment. Oscar knew your favourite chocolate bar. Oscar explained himself and apologised. Oscar was there for you, even if it was just in spirit. Oscar wanted to celebrate you. He wished he didn’t have to leave you alone, standing in Parc Fermé with no one to congratulate you. 

“Fuck you,” you said, to no one in particular. You were alone, as always. You crumbled up the note and threw it into the bin. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When Oscar looked at his desk in MTC the next morning and found the same chocolate bar he’d spent 3 hours searching for, he frowned. McLaren was ruining you slowly. Your mental health was falling further and further away from ‘alright’, and he seemed to be the only one to notice it. He saw you out of the corner of his eye. “Y/n,” he called. “Come here.”

You rolled your eyes, walking over to him. “What?”

“I don’t like these,” he shrugged. “You should take it, I’m sorry-”

“I don’t like them either,” you shrugged. “Go give it to Lando, since you’re his bitch now too.”

“I-”

“I don’t fucking care about where your loyalty lies, Oscar, but don’t play both sides. You picked one in Imola, so stick with it,” you seethed, hitting the bar out of his hand. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

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