#you can make that without sacrificing apples

[redrockbutch]

We have to stop lying about apple pie being good. We have to. At no point in history has anyone ever bitten into an apple and gone "ugh, this apple sucks, it's not mushy and tasteless enough" like what are we even doing here

[femmefatalevibe]

Femme Fatale Guide: Habits To Become Your Best Self In 2023

Some habits, routine ideas, and mindset shifts to help make 2023 your best year yet. Hope this helps and inspires you to reach your goals for the next 12 months. Remember to work hard and take care of yourself. Once you put your mind to it, the sky is the limit! xx

Make Your Meals Plant-Based & Produce-Focused: Center your meals around a variety of vegetables, fruits, plant proteins, potatoes, and unprocessed plant-based fats (avocado, nuts, seeds) and minimal whole grains.

Get Creative With Stress Eating Substitutions: Discover healthy swaps for your meals and snacks to ensure what you're eating without sacrificing your goals. Some simple substitutes include mixing in cauliflower rice into your whole grain rice to add nutrients/volume while slashing the calories, using half an avocado with lemon as a salad dressing over spoonfuls of olive oil, swapping meat for lentils in a chill, soups, or stir fry, choosing frozen grapes or whipped bananas with berries over candy or ice cream for a sweet treat, etc. Remember: Spices and seasoning are your best friends.

Be Mindful of Your Beverage Consumption: Consuming enough water is essential. However, if you get bored with water, add some herbal and black tea, black coffee, or fruit-filled water into the mix. Cinnamon, vanilla, and apple or peach teas are great options to satisfy cravings and prevent mindless snacking (not a substitute for food – eat if you're genuinely hungry). For the winter season, try using some pure cocoa powder with hot water, vanilla extract, and a tablespoon or two of plant-based milk for a healthy hot cocoa drink.

Prioritize Long Walks: Carve out 1-2 hours of your day to get 10-12K steps in at least 5 days a week. Go outside if possible or jump on a treadmill/walking pad to get in some movement while watching TV, talking on the phone, or catching up on some emails.

Find A Simple Resistance Workout You Love: Yoga, pilates, or an at-home weight-training or body-weight exercise you can do at home. Browse different YouTube videos for 10-30 minute workouts to try or sign up for a class in your local area to make it a more social experience (and force yourself to take accountability to show up in the first place).

Create Short & Long "Bookend" Routines: Create a simple routine for the beginning and end of the task-filled portion of your day. For most of us, these routines would be done in the morning and evening/at night before and after work, school, or doing chores/errands. Let go of the rigid idea that these routines need to be done at certain times of the day. Set yourself up to win and tailor them to your schedule. Consider these short routines (like drinking a cup of coffee/tea, reading, meditation, journaling, a walk, or a short dancing session) your warm-up and cool-down sessions of the day. Having these rituals to look forward to will give you the energy and motivation to do what you need to get done each day.

Practice This 10-10-10 Mindfulness Practice: Make time for at least 10 pages of reading, 10 minutes of meditation, and 10 minutes of journaling daily (This can include shadow work) either in the morning or nighttime to clear and reset your mindset for the day.

Take An Hour To Plan Out Your Week: It's most convenient to do this power hour on a weekend (I typically reserve an hour before dinner on Sunday for weekly planning). Write out all of your main work tasks, schedule any due date reminders (for work, bills, chores, and other life necessities), must-do errands, emails and calls or appointments to make, etc.). I like using the Productivity Planner from Intelligent Change and my Reminders app/Google calendar via iCloud to sync deadlines and times to schedule messages/tasks/bills, so everything will be in front of me at the correct time throughout the week.

Prioritize 1-3 Tasks Daily: You might need to choose one large project to work on in small chunks or select a "Big 3" for the day, depending on how complex, lengthy, and time-consuming your projects/errands or appointments are for the day. Using this method allows you to be efficient, streamline your life, and feel productive without overwhelming yourself on the regular (the fastest route to burnout).

Make A Life Admin Schedule (and Stick To It): Choose days (and times if possible) of the week to update certain spreadsheets, batch reply to less urgent messages, clean your house, do laundry, grocery shop, etc. Scheduling these tasks ahead of time eliminates half of the battle for following through on what you need to do. Eventually, you will make these tasks into habitual routines that your brain will allow you to execute effortlessly as though you're in autopilot mode.

Mind Your "Circle of Influence": Do an intake on the 5-10 people you speak to the most or value in your life. If you're an employee, it is probably best to not include your boss or coworkers in this consideration list, as you need to work amicably with them regardless of your personal feelings. Look how you feel during your interactions with your friends, family, intimate partner, or an adjacent love interest. Consider how they speak to you, about themselves, and the topics your conversations are focused around. See if they align with the person you want to be and your goals. Evaluate how close you want to be and what parts of your life you think would be the most beneficial for you and the relationship going into 2023.

Set Boundaries: Understand your expectations, non-negotiables, and limits in every area of your life. Communicate these principles to others clearly, so they know when they are overstepping. Don't tolerate disrespect, but also don't expect others to be mind-readers. If someone knows that they're crossing your boundaries, it is easy to draw the line in the sand and walk away without the guilt or shame that can arise when conflicts originate from a lack of healthy communication.

Incorporate One Creative Practice Into Your Week: Reinvigorate your mind by engaging in at least one hour of creative activity per week. Try drawing, creative writing, poetry, singing, dancing, painting, pottery, jewelry making, graphic design, photography, etc. Even taking a foreign language course or creating a Pinterest inspiration/mood board or organizing your home/closets in an aesthetically-pleasing way counts. Figure out what creative outlet(s) you find satisfying. Prioritize scheduling this practice into your schedule weekly.

Refine Your Signature Look: Edit your wardrobe, try out a new haircut, or change up your makeup routine, nail color, or signature scent. Consider how you can close any gaps between your authentic personal style and how you present yourself on a day-to-day basis. Create an inspiration board if needed to help yourself define your unique aesthetic and gradually work towards embodying your ideal look.

Keep A "Praise" Archive: Create a record of all of the messages you receive highlighting your achievements, milestones, recognitions, or compliments. Compile a folder that acts as your "praise" archive for every area of your life. Create a folder in your work email inbox to save all of your professional achievements, praise, and positive contributions. Do the same for your personal email. Create a folder in your photo album of screenshotted texts. Keep a running list on your "Notes" app of any compliments you receive on your conversational contributions, actions, attire, personality, smile, etc. Hyping yourself up to connect to your highest self.

Create A "Siren" Kit: Take note of all of the clothing, scents, songs, cosmetics, phrases, people, and other aspects of your environment that empower you to feel your sexiest. Keep all of these items/songs/texts together to make it simple to set the mood before engaging in some indulgent action or revisit when you need a boost of confidence throughout your week.

Do A Financial Audit: Create an income/expenses spreadsheet to understand your current spending behavior and budgeting plan going forward. Set up your 2023 financial goals and projections, including target amounts for income, savings, and investments.

Give Yourself A Weekly "Treat": Find a healthy indulgence that you can strategically incorporate into your week. This "treat" can be a massage or nail appointment, permission to watch a movie or a couple episodes of a TV show, a serving of your favorite dessert or a glass of wine, etc. Life is meant to be enjoyed. Consider regular indulgence as an act of self-care not as a sign of weakness or self-destruction. Embracing pleasure does not require guilt or external permission.

Happy New Year, loves! Cheers to an abundant 2023 xx

[periwinkla]

I think what I love the most about AA is that characters have a duality to them that I don't see often in media. They have actual flaws and do actual bad things, and it's not glossed over. Phoenix is a fundamentally good person, he helps people at the drop of a hat, risks his life for them. Has a penchant for taking strays under his wing. He believes in people... but also not really. He carries a literal lie detector with him at all times, and only employs people who can also peer into other people's hearts. So is he really that trusting? Sure he trusts his clients are innocent, but he doesn't trust they will tell him the truth at all (there's always something to lie about). He believes himself naive, and that's why he works extra hard not to be. Some people think he changed with his disbarment but I feel like when he actually changed was after Dahlia. He became less and less trusting as time went on. And Phoenix actually does forge evidence and risks his subordinate's career, and he says pretty nasty things sometimes (that one time to Edgeworth had got to hurt, badly, especially if you consider that the note could have been genuine at first, which we don't know for sure), has a pretty tactless and somewhat hurtful sense of humor, brings his daughter to cheat at poker, and doesn't tell said daughter she actually has some family left alive. He's secretive, elusive and cryptic, and masks it under a false pretence of goofiness. Miles is, by contrast, very easy to read. He may appear emotionally stunted but is one of the more emphathetic characters. He realizes when he's wrong and immediately needs to correct those wrongs. He grows uneasy and uncertain and eventually recognizes when he's mistaken. By the end of it he begins to help people naturally, without even thinking about it as much as he would have in the past. He helps so many people, he has basically got Phoenix's savior complex 2.0 but the healthy kind where he doesn't jump off a bridge. But... he was also actually cruel, and did send innocent people to their graves (was he really so naive to believe whichever defendant came his way was guilty?). He feigned his death disregarding other people's feelings, and while you could say he had no obligation towards Phoenix (apart from basic decency and respect towards someone who had turned his life around to save him), he still abandoned Franziska, who was still just a kid and had just found out about what her father did. She probably thought, at some point, that the apple didn't fall that far from the tree. That's it's somehow her fault as well. He may be rude and antagonistic, frank to a fault. Isn't afraid of telling stuff to your face. But he also cares about the people he loves so much, to the point he doesn't hesitate to risk his career and break the law multiple times. He may appear a pessimist but he's pretty idealistic at heart, it's quite funny that his favourite show is about an hero of justice, isn't it? Godot is... well, we don't know much about it from before his coma, but he definitely shared Mia's sentiments for helping people in their hour of need. But when he wakes from a 6-year coma he's so broken that he just pins the blame on the most absurd person to blame it on, settles on a complicated plan, and also prosecutes on that particular murder he should just confess upon. Iris was sweet, innocent, self-sacrificing. She knew absolutely nothing about the world apart from what Bikini or her sister told her. She was naive and falsely thought she could fix everything, that her sister was salvageable, that she could save Phoenix. But she still ended up lying to the person she loved and abetting a murder. That's why I love these characters so much. They're interesting and their stories make sense. People don't remain unchanged from what happens to them. People are multi-faceted and complex. You can't sum them up in a bunch of characteristics and aspect them to act on every single one of them, always, consistently. Sometimes people break. They make mistakes they regret, ...and some they don't.

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 10: Poseidon, God Of The Sea]

A/N: Only 2 chapters left!!! 🥰💜

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 7.2k

Let me know if you’d like to be tagged! 🥰

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

It’s Friday, November 1st, and it begins like every day does: with you sneaking a birth control pill and swallowing it with a handful of cool water from the sink. Aemond is usually gone before you wake up—writing speeches, reading newspapers, strategizing with Otto and Criston and Sargent Shriver—but you always lock the bathroom door just in case he reappears. You’ve popped the tiny pink pills out of their circular packages and hidden them in hollowed-out tampons, each opening sealed with cotton balls. You don’t like taking the pills; you don’t fully understand how they work, and you don’t like feeling out of tune with your body’s own rhythms, but they are infinitely better than the alternative. You can’t imagine having to carry Aemond’s child now, sacrificing your comfort, your health, your future, your life for a man who doesn’t know the real you and doesn’t want to. You return the modified tampon to the box you keep in the linen closet, then begin to pin up your hair.

When you venture downstairs, you’ve thrown on a long flowing floral skirt and chunky black sweater, black flats, small unceremonious gold hoops in your ears. You’ll have to change before the journalists arrive to fawn over the children as they bake homemade apple pies this afternoon. You’ll have to wear whatever Aemond tells you to. But presently, it’s Aegon you’re looking for; you begin with the basement.

He isn’t sprawled across his futon, he isn’t lazing on the floor. He isn’t there at all. As you stand on the steps, you see only Eudoxia, muttering irritably in Greek and crawling around on her hands and knees as she picks globs of red out of the shag carpet.

“What is wrong with him?” she says when she glances at you. “Can you believe this? Melted candle wax everywhere. He is a pig. A pig! Someone should make bacon out of him. Then he could finally be useful. He’s just about fat enough. He could feed the whole family, and all the dogs too.”

You don’t know how to reply; you can’t apologize for helping to make the mess, you can’t agree that Aegon is a plague and nothing more. “Do you want help cleaning up?”

“If Aemond saw me putting you to work, I would be deported back to Tyrnavos.”

“No, Doxie. Asteria would fall into the sea without you.”

She peers up at you through fallen strands of her hair, dyed a palpably artificial pitch black. Then she grins, large doughy cheeks, crinkles around her eyes. “Go help Aemond win his election.”

“Yes ma’am,” you say dutifully, and head back upstairs.

In the living room, Aemond and Otto are hissing like snakes as they leaf through the Wall Street Journal. The newspaper reports that Nixon’s poll numbers are climbing in this crucial eleventh hour. They can’t decide if that’s true or if the Wall Street Journal, a Nixon-friendly publication, is trying to give him a little extra momentum as Election Day approaches. Criston nods at you from where he sits on the couch, looking exhausted, dark shadows around his eyes and shoulders slumped low; Aemond and Otto don’t notice you at all. You keep moving.

There is chatter and giggling and the clanging of bowls and pans in the kitchen. You peek inside from the doorway. Fosco, Helaena, and the nannies are making pancakes with the children. Butter sizzles, spatulas scrape, bubbles appear in wells of batter. Helaena is lifting Evangelos so he can pour a cupful of smooth, milky batter into one of the pans on the stovetop. Cosmo, drizzling maple syrup over an ambitiously tall stack of pancakes, waves at you. You smile and wave back. In the corner of the room, Ludwika is smoking one of her Camels and shooing away Aegon’s second-youngest son Thaddeus, whose fingers are covered with flour.

“Please take your paws elsewhere,” Ludwika says, flicking ashes into the kitchen sink. “This dress is Prada.”

Fosco spots you. “Would you like some pancakes?” he asks as he approaches, wiping his palms on the apron tied around his slim waist. Flour dusts his eyeglasses. “We have enough batter to make about 500. Although I cannot promise they will not be burnt. Our chefs are rather inexperienced.”

“Thanks, but I’m not really hungry.” You take one last look around the kitchen, wondering where Aegon could be.

Fosco understands. His voice drops low and discrete. “I have not seen him this morning.”

“He isn’t usually up yet.”

“He’s not, this is true.” Fosco taps his chin, leaving white dabs of flour there. “Maybe he’s sailing?”

“Maybe. I’ll check.”

“And I have no idea where you’re going or why,” Fosco says with a wink before returning to the stove.

Outside it’s grey, misty, only 50 degrees. It would be a bad day for sailing. The wind rips at your clothes and your hair like a man’s lustful hands; the waves are choppy and treacherous. You think of Icarus plummeting into the ocean, of Andromeda being offered as a sacrifice to assuage Poseidon’s wrath, of sirens beckoning doomed sailors. From where you’re standing in the backyard of the main house, shivering with your arms crossed over your chest, you can’t see Aegon’s boat Sunfyre bobbing in the rough surf. You turn left to investigate Helaena’s withered garden.

As you walk, the hem of your skirt dragging dead autumn leaves, you skim your fingertips over the evergreen emerald hedges, cool and damp. At the center of the garden—like a diamond in a wedding ring, like the sun surrounded by its planets—you don’t find Aegon smoking a joint or napping under Zeus’s shadow, only a silent stone circle of gods who watch you with unmoving, all-knowing eyes. You spin slowly, studying each of them, deities who loved and cheated and offered mercy and cursed and killed. From his gurgling fountain in the middle of the clearing, Zeus glares at you most fiercely, wielding his lightning bolts, aching to loose them. The wind rattles the leaves of the hedges; crows caw from somewhere out in the mist.

“Oh! You’re here, darling?” Alicent says from the arched doorway cut into the greenery. She’s pushing Viserys in his wheelchair. Sparse white spiderweb-strands of hair hang limply from his head, mottled with liver spots. His fingers are bony and clawlike. “In this awful weather?”

You scramble for an explanation. “I just, um, needed some quiet.”

“Yes, the children are very rambunctious this morning, aren’t they?”

“Children?” Viserys echoes, as if he is only just learning of them.

“Your grandchildren,” Alicent reminds him. “Aegon and Helaena’s kids. Orion, Spiro, Violeta, Thaddeus, Cosmo, Daphne, Evangelos, and…” Panic crosses her face. She realizes she’s forgotten one, but she doesn’t know who.

“Neaera,” you say.

“Of course. Such a sweet girl, gentle like a lamb.”

You weren’t blessed with that sort of disposition. Sometimes you wish you were. Life seems easier for women who don’t feel bitterness or forbidden ambition, who pain moves cleanly through like clear water. They have no thorns for it to snag on and grow roots into the bones, the soul. They are never at risk of becoming poisonous like Jupiter’s moon Io. “What brings you to the garden on a day this dreary?”

“I feel close to them here,” Viserys rasps.

You stare down at him, baffled. “Close to who, sir?” You rarely interact with the ailing patriarch of the Targaryen family. He is often confined to his bedroom, attended by Alicent and Eudoxia and his nurses, and even when he is physically present his mind is sluggish, alien, impenetrable. Now Alicent’s eyes are downcast, and she drifts away to inspect the statue of Poseidon, a formidable bearded man holding a trident and with dolphins and sea turtles emerging from the waves of white marble at his bare feet.

“I left them back in Greece,” Viserys says, his gaunt face vacant, distant, vaguely sad. He is bundled up in a thick wool robe that hides how skeletal he has become. “I thought about having them brought over to be interred at the mausoleum, but it felt wrong to disturb their bones. Now I cannot visit their graves. I can only hear them here, among the gods our ancestors worshiped.”

“Who…?”

“Aemma and Rhaenyra,” Alicent tells you from where she now stands by Aphrodite, gazing longingly at the goddess of love. You notice that she is clutching a komboskini in one hand; she must believe that what her husband is saying is blasphemy, but she doesn’t condemn him. “Viserys had a wife and daughter before he met me.”

You feel a sudden and overwhelming stab of grief for the old man; you are thinking of Ari. “What happened?”

“The sea took them,” Viserys explains. “A riptide off the coast of Euboea. We found their bodies three days later.”

“Oh God. I’m…I’m so sorry for your loss.” You don’t know what else to say; it’s too disastrous, too unspeakable.

“Aemma was pregnant. It was a boy. She delivered him in the water, a coffin birth.” And you know from his face, his voice, that Alicent and her children never stood a chance, that Viserys has only one true family, only one set of names carved into the scarlet chambers of his failing heart. You think of Aemond’s heart, claimed by Alys and her son; you think of your own.

“They’re at peace, Viserys,” Alicent says. “They are in heaven with my mother and Ari and Mimi.”

He continues, as if he hasn’t heard her: “I thought that if I made something of myself in America, if I helped contribute something incredible to the world, then they would not have died for nothing.” Viserys reaches out with trembling, gnarled hands, and when you realize he wants to hold yours you let him. His grasp is weak and cold. “Aemond will be president. He will save countless lives, he will save this nation’s soul. And you have made that possible.”

Where’s Aegon? Is he okay? Why is no one else ever looking for him? “Thank you, sir.”

Viserys begins hacking, doubling over in his wheelchair, and Alicent hurries to soothe him and provide a handkerchief that Helaena embroidered green spiders onto. When he has recovered, you leave them with the gods: Viserys to grieve his old life, Alicent to mourn the one she never had.

You plod through sand dunes out to the Atlantic Ocean, peering into the fog as you search for Aegon’s sailboat. Still, there is no sign of him. You glance back towards the main house as sea spray peppers your cheeks and your knuckles. You’re beginning to get nervous. Where the hell is he? Is he passed out somewhere, is he sick, is he hurt?

And then, at last, you see him: sitting at the bottom of a small bluff so he is invisible to anyone not at the water’s edge, arms linked around his bent knees, not smoking, not drinking, not gulping pills, just gazing out into the waves that thrash and rumble beneath a grey sky, his too-long blonde hair whipping in the wind. He wears one of Daeron’s army jackets over a white turtleneck sweater, ripped jeans, no shoes, a collection of other men’s dog tags slung around his neck.

“Hey,” you say as you join him, dropping down onto the cool, crumbling sand.

Aegon smiles. “Hey.”

“It’s strange to see you awake before noon.”

“Yeah…I didn’t really sleep.” No, he didn’t, you can tell: his eyes are bloodshot and his voice tired, husky. He is watching you, so hopeful but so afraid. “What are we gonna do?”

About us. About Aemond. “If he loses on Tuesday, I can leave him.”

“What if he wins?”

You don’t have a good answer. You shrug, avoiding Aegon’s eyes. “It’s not forever, you know? It would be four years, and then…”

“Four years?” Aegon says. “No, I can’t wait another four years. I’ve been waiting my whole life for something like this. And what if he gets a second term? Eight years? I’ll be almost fifty. We’ve already lost so much time, I can’t surrender another decade.”

“Aegon, first ladies don’t quit. It’s never happened before, not once since 1789. It’s a part of the democratic process. People aren’t just voting for Aemond, they’re voting for me too. You know that. You told me we were a package deal, and you were right. If they trust me and I walk away, it’s…it’s…it’s treason, it’s abandonment, it’s wrong. And Aemond needs to have the political credibility to get what he wants done.”

“Look,” Aegon says, like it pains him. “I get that my life is already half over, and I haven’t done anything worthwhile with the last forty years, but I want to be different. I want to be better. And I can do that, but I need you to give me a chance.”

“You think Aemond would let me leave? If I publicly humiliated and undermined him?”

“We don’t need Aemond, we could figure it out—”

“What do you think he and Otto would do to you, Aegon? They would ruin you anywhere you go, they would have you declared mentally unfit and take your children away.”

“They don’t own us!”

“They do,” you insist. “And if you try to fight them it will destroy you. You’ve never cared about strategy, and I love that you’re truthful, and I love that you’re real, but I need you to understand what you’re asking for right now.”

“But he breaks the rules,” Aegon says, and his eyes are glistening. “He has Alys. He has a kid out of wedlock.”

“Yes,” you agree softly.

“And what, I’m supposed to hope Aemond loses?” Aegon swipes tears from his eyes with the heel of his hand. “Because that’s the only way I get to touch you? Nixon wins and more draftees get butchered in Vietnam, and Daeron doesn’t come home, and the white supremacists get to resegregate the beaches at Biloxi, Mississippi and wherever the hell else they want to, and civil rights protesters get attacked by police dogs, and teenagers get sentenced to decades in prison for marijuana possession?”

“I’m sorry.” You can’t tell him he’s mistaken about any of that. He isn’t.

“I’ve spent my whole fucking life in a cage, but I’ve never felt this powerless.”

“Aegon?”

“Yeah.”

“Am I…” It’s terrifying to ask. “Am I the same way Mimi was when she was younger? Is that why you like me?”

“No,” he says immediately. “No, you’re different than Mimi. Mimi was fun, and we could party together, and I cared about her, obviously, but…” He stares out at the ocean, shaking his head. “She wasn’t as strong as you. And she couldn’t really get to me. I feel like you could kill me if you wanted to, you could reach inside my chest any time it crossed your mind and crush me in your fist and I’d be gone.”

You stretch out your fingertips until they collide with his sweater, warm yielding flesh woven over his ribs. “Not so easy,” you say. And then Aegon smiles and he leans in to kiss you, the ocean roaring like an ancient beast, a titan, a maelstrom. The wind rakes through your hair and stings your eyes. You ask when he rests his forehead against yours, your hand on his face, your thumb stroking his cheek: “Do you wish you could go back to when you hated me?”

“Never. I’ve gotten used to not being alone.”

“The kids made pancakes. You should go have some.”

“Come with me.”

“You first. I’ll be five minutes behind you. We shouldn’t walk to the house together.”

“Why?” Aegon teases. “Because people might think we fucked in the basement last night?”

“I’ve already told them. Aemond is waiting for you in the kitchen with a bazooka.”

Aegon laughs and struggles to his bare feet, slipping on the sand. “Okay. See you soon.”

“See ya.” Once he’s gone, you recite the full length of Here’s To The State Of Mississippi in your head, then trek across the sand and through the backyard to rejoin the rest of the Targaryens.

When you open the sliding glass door, Otto is standing in the hallway. His icy blue eyes sweep from your simple black flats to your windswept hair, still pinned up but unacceptably tousled. “Why the hell aren’t you dressed for the reporters?”

“Because they won’t be here for another two hours. Surely you are well-acquainted with the itinerary that you yourself arranged.”

“Don’t get yourself in trouble, girl.”

“Remember when you used to defer to me about things? Were you stupid then, or are you stupid now?”

“Do you know what Joe Kennedy did when his daughter Rosemary threatened the family’s reputation?” Otto says, eyes glittering cruelly.

You really don’t know; you weren’t aware that JFK had a sister named Rosemary. “What?”

“He took her to a surgeon to be lobotomized. Now she’s hidden away in a little cottage in Wisconsin, can’t speak, can’t walk, with full-time nurses to wipe the drool off her face and change her diapers. How would you like that? Would your obscene little flirtation still be worth it? We could tell people that you were in a car accident or fell down the stairs. The doctors go in through the eye socket, you know. And you’re awake the whole time.”

“You can’t do that to me,” you say, shellshocked.

“Oh, if that’s what it takes, I’ll find the will somehow.”

There is shouting from the basement, and you and Otto both bolt for the staircase. At the bottom of the steps, Aegon and Eudoxia are embroiled in a ferocious confrontation, red faces, hands itching to slap and shove. Aegon roars, jabbing his index finger at her like a petulant teenager: “I told you to stay the fuck out of my room!”

“You are filthy, you leave crumbs everywhere! We will have mice!”

“Where’s the garbage?” Aegon demands. “Huh? Where’d you put it? Out by the curb?”

“It has already been picked up.”

“No, no way! That’s bullshit!”

“You’re too late!” Doxie says. “The truck went by 20 minutes ago. And why is this a problem? What precious heirloom did I steal from you? An empty rum bottle? A magazine full of naked women? Candy wrappers, cigarette ashes, melted candle wax? You live like a pig, you should not be so outraged when you are treated the same as one.”

“Aegon, what happened?” you ask. Otto is equally bewildered, surveying the markedly clean basement, his brow knitted into deep crevices.

Aegon doesn’t answer. He only glances at you—frustration, anger, but shame too—and then sighs in defeat and stomps up the stairs to the main floor of the house.

Eudoxia looks at Otto and shrugs nonchalantly. “At least there were not so many used condoms this time.”

Your gaze catches on the end table by the futon. The empty cups are gone, the ashtray is spotless…and there is no folded white corner of a receipt poking out from under it.

The math problem from Mount Sinai, you think, that relic, that talisman, that worthless scrap of paper that Aegon never wanted to talk about but kept so close to him, just like you cling to the card he gave you and Aemond cherishes his engraved Ouija board. It’s gone. It’s almost like it never happened.

~~~~~~~~~~

After the journalists arrive and the apple pies, so quintessentially all-American, are made—you help Cosmo with his job, layering strips of dough into lattice crusts that turn golden in the oven, glinting with sugar crystals like diamonds—Aemond’s retinue begins the last of their campaign stops by travelling via limousines to Philadelphia, just an hour and a half across the width of New Jersey and over the Delaware River. In your penthouse suite at the Ritz-Carlton, you soak in a bath opaque with bubbles, steam hot and dewy on your skin. Your hair is long and free. The Zenith radio out in the kitchenette is playing Tomorrow Never Knows by the Beatles.

Your hands have just slipped beneath the hot water—your skull full of Aegon, things he’s done, things he’s said—when you hear the bathroom door open behind you. You rest your arms on the spotless white rim of the tub, porcelain-enameled steel, and try not to look like you’ve been interrupted. Aemond’s footsteps cross the linoleum floor, then he kneels by the bathtub and wraps his arms around you, his long uncalloused fingers skating over your shoulder, collarbones, nipples, before linking like a long necklace. He likes you best like this, when your scar is hidden, something that might have been a nightmare or a sad story that happened to somebody else. He rests the mutilated left half of his face against the right side of yours; his eyepatch scratches against your temple. You shift uncomfortably, you can’t help it. You don’t want him touching you. His arms tighten around your ribs.

“You know, JFK’s mother went through a crisis of sorts as a young wife,” Aemond says calmly. “She realized her husband was a hopeless philanderer and tried to leave him and go back to her parents. But her father sat her down and explained that she had made a commitment. Marriage is for life, and you don’t abandon your vows when the circumstances prove difficult. So she went back to Joe. And if she hadn’t, there never would have been a John F. Kennedy, or a Bobby, or a Eunice or a Ted, or a million other things too.”

“I am so fucking sick of hearing about the Kennedys.”

“You used to love being compared to Jackie.”

“I’m not her. I’m never going to be her.”

“I’m giving up things too,” Aemond says. Now he’s combing his fingers through your hair, unraveling tiny knots, yanking at your scalp. “If I win, I won’t be able to see Alys and our son. It would be too risky, someone might catch me. For as long as I’m president, I’ll have to be apart from them. You don’t think that’s painful? But Alys understands. She knows it’s for the greater good.”

“Please stop touching me.”

“You’re mine to touch as much as I want to.”

You stare at the seafoam green wall and try to pretend you’re in another place, another year.

“I’ve been thinking,” Aemond says sympathetically, an appeasing sort of tone, like he’s trying to strike a bargain. “I’m a realist, I’m aware that I can’t keep you locked up in a basement or put you in a straightjacket for the next fifty years. That doesn’t serve either of us. If you are truly desperate to be rid of me, there’s nothing I can do to change your mind. And I require a partner who is fully committed to my cause, my legacy. Not a captive. I can’t fight Nixon and you too.”

You twist around in the tub to look at him, skeptical, amazed. Is there a way out? “So what are you offering?”

“I need you for as long as I’m president,” Aemond says. “If I win, I need you for at least four years, probably eight. And a short while after that to establish myself in retirement and fade from the headlines, another few years. But then…we could work out some arrangement that is mutually agreeable.”

The hope is so fragile, so fearful, splintering glass. “You would let me go?”

“We’d have to negotiate the details, particularly as far as our future children are concerned, but…yes. In some sense, at least.”

You can’t find any words. You don’t want to offend him, to shatter this moment. And yet the price is so steep. Four years, eight years, ten years. But then…but then…

Aemond smiles, his remaining blue eye bright and cunning. His fingertips trace the slope of your jaw. “I care so deeply for you. You are my Aphrodite, you have made my wildest ambitions possible. You will help me save this country. I am worshiped because of you, I am trusted, I am envied. No one has a wife as beloved as mine, and everybody knows it. So I feel…I’ve considered…” His hand moves down to your throat, drawing invisible chains of gold or silver. “If you’ve given me so much, I can extend some mercy in return.”

“You can’t harm Aegon,” you say. “Or take his children away, or do anything else to punish him.” And then you lie, a necessary fiction, an invention, a myth, Prometheus stealing fire to give it to humans, Zeus hiding Io from Hera. “He hasn’t betrayed you.” And he’s saved me over and over again.

“Of course I won’t harm Aegon. I need him too. This act he has now of the devoted, reformed, tragedy-besieged single father? People adore it. At this rate, I’ll be able to make him the attorney general for my second term if he uses the next four years to rack up some experience. And his children are gold mines for the photographers. They have filled the void left by our own son’s death.”

“Ari,” you say.

“What?”

“He had a name. He wasn’t just ‘a son’ or ‘our son.’ His name was Ari.”

“You’ll feel better once we’ve had others.” Aemond stands and holds out a hand to you. He’s wearing a black suit like he’s getting married, like he’s going to a funeral.

You gaze up at him, not wanting to leave the water. You belong to him, but when he touches you it feels like the earth dying when Persephone is stolen away by Hades each autumn, it feels like Eurydice’s spiderweb-fragile life evaporating when Orpheus dared to look back at her as he led her out of the Underworld. “What if I can’t get pregnant again?” you ask. “It took over a year the first time. And the surgery…what if there’s too much scar tissue, what if I’m just…just…broken?” There’s real pain in your voice that staves off any suspicion Aemond might have. You do want more children, you believe, you know; just not with him.

“Then it is God’s will. But we’ll keep trying.”

Aemond draws you out of the water like a fish from the sea, something to devour, skin and muscle, delicate bones sucked clean.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sunlight is cloudless and glaring. Leaves swirl in the brisk wind in jewel tones: gold, ruby, fire opal, honey calcite, tiger’s eye, red jasper. Aemond has just finished a speech at Franklin Delano Roosevelt Park, standing in a stone gazebo that you can’t help but think resembles a Greek temple, tall columns that house deities of love and death, oceans and fire. Alicent and Helaena have taken the children to attend the opening of a new public library on the other side of the city. The rest of Aemond’s entourage—you, Criston, Otto, Ludwika, Fosco, Aegon—are arranged in a semicircle around him on the stage. Only 50 yards away, there is a small parking lot full of police and press vehicles. Philadelphia residents have walked miles to hear Aemond speak, to glimpse him, to cheer for him, to take leaves he’s stepped on or loose threads from his navy blue suit as relics like the bones of a saint. You match him, as you always must: navy blue dress, high heels, hair neat, makeup mature and understated, gold jewelry gleaming on your ears, throat, wrist. Ravens flap their wings from the skeletal limbs of bare trees. A car radio is blaring Break On Through by The Doors.

“Senator Targaryen,” a reporter calls as flashbulbs strobe dizzyingly. “What do you think about Tommie Smith and John Carlos getting death threats for raising their fists in the Black Power salute at the Olympics in Mexico City?”

There is a split-second lull; it is a difficult question. Aemond must remain the savior of the hippies and college kids and civil rights activists, yet he must not let the old-money urban elite or suburban families mistake him for a discord-sowing radical. You and Aegon exchange a glance; Otto placed him on the opposite side of the gazebo, and this is not a coincidence. Then Aemond decides what to say. “Peaceful protests—even those that can make us confused, defensive, fearful—are not a threat to democracy,” he speaks into the microphone steadily, deliberately, commandingly. The crowd leans forward as they listen, enraptured. Journalists’ pens fly across the pages of their notebooks. “They are not the harbingers of some doomed descent into anarchy. They are a manifestation of the fact that we have already failed. Our nation has failed, our laws and our leaders have failed, and this is our chance to address those dire inadequacies. I urge every single American to listen to what Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos have actually said about their concerns and their hopes, to be empathetic, to be honest when reflecting on what our country has achieved and yet so desperately still needs to improve upon. These men are not enemies of the United States. They are the United States. They are a part of us, and we are a part of them, and we must not allow prejudiced, ignorant voices”—he means Wallace, he means Nixon—“to draw divides between us. The harassment that Mr. Smith, Mr. Carlos, and their families have experienced is a travesty. It is something that we should expect from a fascist or communist regime, not from a democracy. And to do my small part to show my admiration for them and atone for the mistakes of this nation that I so fervently hope to make better, I would like to personally fund private security services for the households of Mr. Smith and Mr. Carlos for the foreseeable future.”

The crowd erupts into applause, cheers shouted, signs held aloft. Your eyes snag on one, clutched by a middle-aged woman bundled up against the cold; only her eyes—grey, tearful, shining like quarters—are visible above the red plaid of her thick wool scarf. On her sign is a large photograph of a young man in uniform, maybe nineteen, maybe twenty. Below the photo in red marker is written: Ryan Farrelly, my youngest son, burned to death in Phan Thiet on September 21st. Bring Daeron home! Bring them ALL home!

The woman waves at you. You raise your hand wave back. And then there is a sound that comes from everywhere, a boom of thunder, an explosion, bullets like the one that demolished Aemond’s left eye in Palm Beach back in May, a lifetime ago, a truth that has become mythology. There is something hot and sticky splattered across your face, and you can’t see; when you wipe it away with your sleeve and open your eyes, there is a hole in your palm that you can look through like a window.

Where else?

But when you check your chest, your belly, you are whole. It is only a hand would, and that won’t kill you. It doesn’t even hurt yet, though the blood runs in torrents down your arm. You peer frantically around to see if anyone else is hurt.

Aegon, Fosco, Ludwika, Criston??

People are rushing the stage to shield Aemond and his family from bullets. Police are tackling somebody in the audience and beating him bloody with their batons. Aegon is screaming and shoving through the chaos as he fights his way towards you. Otto slams him against one of the columns of the gazebo and holds him there, because Aegon is not the one who’s supposed to get to you first. Now Aemond’s arms are around you, and he is ushering you down the stone steps towards the parking lot, and Criston is running alongside him and telling Aemond that the closest hospital is Jefferson Methodist, but UPenn is better and only two miles farther.

“Who else?” you ask as you cradle your hand against your chest, blood turning your dress from navy to black. Now it hurts plenty, like waking up from your c-section, like a crimson wave that is scalding and crushing and dragging you under to be drowned. “Is anyone else—?”

“No, just you,” Criston says, a reassuring grip on your shoulder. “Don’t worry. Nobody else is hurt.”

“Senator Targaryen, this way!” a police officer is yelling, and he leads the three of you to his black and white car. Criston leaps into the passenger seat; Aemond pulls you into the back with him and slams the door. The sirens shriek and the police officer careens out of the parking lot, Criston giving directions, Aemond yanking off his suit jacket to wrap around your hemorrhaging hand.

“I’m not going to lose it, am I?” you ask dazedly. None of this seems real. You wish Aegon was here. “I need my hands.”

“No, honey. I don’t think they’ll have to amputate.” Then Aemond stares down at the blood on his palms, warm scarlet ruin, water and oxygen and iron that once pulsed in your arteries and veins and now stains him. He frowns, then wipes his hands on his white shirt until almost all the blood is gone from his skin. He is cleaning you off of him. He is readying himself for the cameras that will undoubtedly be waiting at the Hospital of the University of Pennsylvania.

Inside the glass doors of the building, dust motes circle in aisles of sunlight; you watch them as doctors and nurses push you towards the operating room on a stretcher.

“We’re going to take excellent care of you, Mrs. Targaryen,” a doctor says as he ties a sterile white mask over his nose and mouth.

Don’t let Ari die, you almost murmur in response; and then you remember that’s already happened.

There are needles gliding into your veins, bright lights, pain vanishing like the memory of a dream dissolving when you wake.

~~~~~~~~~~

Four hours later, you are propped up in bed on a mountain of pillows, your hand surgically repaired and bandaged, morphine in your IV drip. The doctors think you shouldn’t lose much function—the bullet was from a pistol, blessedly small in size and missing most of your major tendons and nerves—but you won’t know for sure until it’s healed. Ludwika is here with you, lounging in the chair beside your bed and flipping through a copy of Cosmopolitan with her Louis Vuitton stilettos propped up on the ottoman. She is content to be here, but this is technically a job; she has been tasked with supervising you while Aemond and Otto meet with the Philadelphia police who are investigating the attack. The rest of the family—everyone except Aegon, who you suspect has been forbidden to enter the premises—has already been here to fret over you and ask if you need anything. But you aren’t in the mood for visitors. You are stunned, and aching, and you hate hospitals. You keep thinking of tiny babies in incubators, priests in black robes.

Your room is already filling up with flower bouquets. Every few minutes, the phone rings and Ludwika has to answer it. Each time she announces who it is—“Oh, hello Lady Bird, so nice of you to offer your well-wishes!” and then looks to see if you nod, agreeing to take it. The current first lady says that you are already as beloved as Jackie Kennedy and Eleanor Roosevelt. Pat Nixon calls you a gladiator.

There is a mint green Zenith radio on your nightstand, the volume turned way down low, and a television mounted on the wall. NBC news is on, but you’ve muted it to attend to the barrage of phone calls. There is a knock on the doorframe. Aegon stands there in his khaki pants and ill-fitting viridian button-up shirt and tan moccasins, wide searching murky blue eyes, carrying a white Dairy Queen cup.

Ludwika observes him as she puffs on a Camel cigarette. “I am suddenly struck by the inspiration to spend Otto’s money at the gift shop. I hope they take American Express.” She rolls up her magazine, shoves it into her oversized Gucci purse, and clicks in her heels out of the room and down the hallway.

Aegon commandeers the chair and drags it closer to your bed so he can feel your cheeks and your forehead, so he can get a good look at you. “Hey, little Io. You hurt your hoof, huh?”

“It’s not that bad. The caliber of the bullet was really small. Who shot me? One of Wallace’s Klansmen?”

“No, just some insane guy who thinks Aemond is a Russian double agent trying to overthrow capitalism here and put us all in gulags. I heard you could see right through the wound.”

“Yeah, I had a hole in my palm.”

“Just like Jesus.”

“I guess they fixed it.”

“Messiah status revoked.” Aegon sets the Dairy Queen cup on your nightstand. “I brought you a lemon-lime Mr. Misty.”

“I need to get out of here.”

“They gotta make sure you’re okay, babe. You could spike a fever or something.”

“Aegon,” you say seriously. “I can’t be in a hospital. I need to leave.”

He understands; his voice is gentle. “I might be able to get you out tonight, okay? I’ll try. I’ll talk to the doctors.”

“Okay,” you whimper.

Aegon turns up the Zenith radio, Van Morrison’s Brown Eyed Girl. He sings along, snapping his fingers and shimmying his shoulders, his hair shagging over his eyes:

“Hey, where did we go?

Days when the rains came

Down in the hollow

Playin’ a new game…”

Reluctantly, you give him a smile. And you think very clearly, though you don’t say it: I love you.

Aegon leans across the bed to rest his head on your lap. He says softly as you run your fingers through his hair with your good hand: “Maybe Aemond will lose.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

On the muted television, Nixon is giving a speech in Charlotte, North Carolina to a euphoric crowd. You can’t hear the people gathered there, but you know their applause are thunderous. Nixon is flashing peace signs with both hands and beaming radiantly, this man who was once so poor, tragic, ordinary, unwanted, unloved. He has learned what it feels like to be a god.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s Sunday, November 3rd, and your hand hurts like hell. You swallow your pills, smiling a little. Now Aegon is getting clean and I’m the one swimming in a haze of narcotics. Who could have predicted that? Still in your robe and bare feet, you swish to the hotel bathroom to wash your face, brush your teeth, rebandage your hand and make sure it isn’t growing dark insidious vines of blood poisoning.

When you venture out to the kitchenette, Aemond is in a sapphire blue suit and seated at the table, reading the Wall Street Journal, his face hidden by columns of black ink and interspersed photographs. This is unusual; he should be scheming with Otto and Sargent Shriver by now.

“Everything okay?” you ask with only vague interest as you go to the refrigerator to get yourself a leftover slice of apple pie, meticulously wrapped and packed in a cooler by Eudoxia before your departure from Asteria. Aemond doesn’t answer. You plop a piece of apple pie onto a plate, return the rest to the refrigerator, and then turn to your husband. And only now do you register the newspaper’s front-page story.

The photographs, all three of them, are of you and Aegon. They are blurry, taken from a distance, but you recognize the moment immediately. You can feel it again: ocean wind in your hair, his lips on yours, your hand on his face as you willed him to be closer, healed, permanent. You are sitting at the edge of the Atlantic Ocean, turbulent and perilous. The journalists must have been north of you, shrouded in mist, their camera shutters clicking feverishly. The headline reads: A Family Affair?

And you remember what Aemond said on your 23rd birthday before he left for the Washington State Convention in Tacoma, how he scolded Aegon when he saw him lighting a joint in the backyard at Asteria: You know journalists will sneak around trying to get photos. You know we’re never truly alone out here.

You can’t speak, you can’t breathe. Aemond knows. The whole world knows.

Slowly, Aemond lowers the newspaper so you can see his face, scarred and hateful and horrifying, lethal like the volcanic hellscape of Jupiter’s most cursed moon.

~~~~~~~~~~

What are my earliest memories? Aegon getting drunk on his futon in the basement while I played with toy soldiers on the green shag carpet, Aemond with his poems and his myths, Helaena letting a praying mantis creep across her knuckles, Criston teaching me how to swim and sail, my mother cleaning sand from my face and hands and giving me water to wash the grit out of my teeth, my father wandering through the doorways of Asteria like a ghost, always on the periphery of my vision, and I had the sense that if I reached out to touch him my hands would pass resistlessly through his skin and sinew like a stone through water.

These are the things I think of here in the rain-dripping darkness, bruises down to my bones, eyes swollen almost completely shut, teeth broken and throbbing like blows from a hammer, fingernails ripped out. I know Tessarion is here because I can hear her, soft sympathetic squeaks, the padding of her tiny feet. I know John McCain is still alive because sometimes he taps back through the cracked concrete wall. I have run out of folklore, so now I tell him the truth. I tell him that I am afraid each beating will kill me as my body becomes a stranger, someone weak and brittle and helpless. I tell him that all my life I wanted to run as far as I could from home, but now I would crawl back to them through razor wire, I would fall into their arms in a shredded bloodstained heap and I’d be happy to do it. Isn’t that funny? I mean, I don’t laugh much these days. But maybe you can appreciate the irony.

Has the election happened yet? Has Aemond won? I’ve lost track of the days, but it has to be getting close to November 5th. What happens if he can’t get me out? What happens if Nixon wins?

I don’t want to be a hero anymore. I don’t want to have adventures like Heracles, Achilles, Jason, Odysseus, Perseus, Orpheus, Ajax. I just want to go home. Please let me go home.

I can hear keys jangling against the lock on my cell door. My heart jolts into a breakneck, pounding rhythm; I think that sound will terrify me all my life. Some things you just can’t forget, you know? Some things dig down deep and build a home in the marrow of your bones, a rust-red cave of immutable memory. I know exactly what the communists want from me. They’ve been asking since they dragged me out of the Loach four months ago.

Everyone has a breaking point. This is mine.

[stay-somnia]

Virgin Chan! hard thots

Everyones likes to think Chan must have had a girlfriend or at least hook ups but I raise you Virgin! Chan. 

-Virgin!Chan who’s never had the chance to go on a date; sacrificing his youth and recklessness for the sake of his group

-Virgin!Chan who avoids his crushes at all cost; locking himself up in the studio until his mind goes blank 

-Virgin!Chan who’s so busy he doesn't time or space to jack off; so sleep deprived having wet dreams is a blue moon blessing

-Virgin!Chan who can't look women in the eyes outside of professional conduct let alone give her his number

-Virgin!Chan who’s content at working until he passes out if that means the boys can live their lives the way they want to

-And then there’s Yang Jeongin

-The Maknae, who’s been coddled and spoiled rotten by his hardworking hyungs

-Poor Innocent baby bread who rejects any attempts at flirtation…or so it seems.

-Our little bread boy has a secret, he used to be quite the whore

-Dating girl after girl, making and breaking any heart he chose… until he met you

-his pretty little girlfriend

-Jeongin would do anything for you

-Sugar Daddy in the streets and a beast in the sheets Yang Jeongin didn’t learn nothing from his teen days

- He would give you the world; it just so happens that you are his world.

-You might be the apple of his eye but he's not the only one fixated on you…

-Virgin!Chan who has a panic attack when he realizes he has a crush on you... their maknae’s pretty little girlfriend 

-Virgin!Chan who scurries off whenever you come by wearing those short skirts that drive him and your boyfriend absolutely insane

-Virgin!Chan who starts whimpering your name in his sleep always drenched in sweat and shame 

-Virgin!Chan who starts squirming when you get within five feet of him

-Yang Jeongin is not blind or stupid

-Anyone can see how his Hyung goes wild over you

-That tent in Chan’s pants whenever you say his name might as well be a neon sign

-Its so cute how his leader drools for you; a desperate puppy at his master's feet

-Jeongin owes Chan (they all do)

-where would any of them be without their leaders' hard work and sacrifice

-He really should pay his Hyung back... and what better way to do that than helping his poor overworked hyung de-stress a bit… 

-Virgin!Chan who’s stomach drops when Jeongin comes forward with a little proposition

-Virgin!Chan who cant breath when you tell him that you're okay with it... that you want it.

-Virgin!Chan who's gasps when he sees you in Jeongins arms wearing nothing but one of his !Chan's! hoodies..

-Virgin!Chan who stays motionless when Jeongin beckons him over

-Virgin!Chan who thinks he's died when the realization that he’s allowed to touch you finally sinks in

-Yang Jeongin who grabs his Hyung's hands to guide them to your most sensitive bits

-Yang Jeongin who puppeteers a trembling Chan into giving you sweet release

-Yang Jeongin who swells with pride when you cry out for him

-Yang Jeongin who gently pushes his Hyung aside to show him how its done

-Virgin Chan who creams his pants watching Jeongin wrench orgasm after orgasm from you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This is probably really shitty quality, I'm sorry. Any writers out there feel free run wild with this Drabble? hard thought?

if I get my shit together maybe I'll write a one shot of this.

[shotmrmiller]

The start of a journey

A small drabble of a thought that had me awake at an unreasonable hour because how cute is HE PLEASE GOD.

Dadtobe!simon who when you told him you were pregnant, he sat quietly on the sofa without saying much. You were so worried he didn’t want the baby due to his history with his family— but in reality, he was so shocked. How can he deserve such a precious gift from life when all he does for a living is take them? He sees your eyes watery with unshed tears and quickly grabs your hands to reassure you that this may have not been planned but it is a gift unworthy of a bad man such as he and he already loves you both. 

Dadtobe!simon is the one who looks up what foods help alleviate nausea so when you’re heaving over your toilet, he’s already in the kitchen getting some cold apple juice and saltines just in case you could stomach them this time.

Dadtobe!simon is pressed that you’re choosing to have a home water birth with a midwife instead of the hospital because “What if you need immediate medical attention? We’d have to get you to a hospital and that’s time wasted.”

“ The baby and I will be okay. The midwife will be keeping an eye on my vitals and if anything went south, they’d be getting us to a hospital before I really needed to be in one. Besides, I want an unmedicated labor in the comfort of my own home.”

“Alright, love. But if anything looks even slightly wrong, I’m getting you out o’ here. Clear?” “Crystal, sir.” 

“Cheeky.”

Dadtobe!simon personally bought an at-home fetal doppler to hear the baby’s heartbeat whenever he couldn’t make it to the monthly OB appointments. He helps you lie down on the sofa, hips propped up on a pillow, and he’d get the doppler gel from the warmer because he CANNOT have you uncomfortable so long he can help it. Skin goosepimpling with the warm gel, he starts rubbing it on your lower stomach with the probe and puts light pressure— doing circular motions to try and find the distinct, rhythmic thumps of the baby’s heart. He catches it, a fast beating, _strong_ heartbeat, and ups the volume.

“There ya are, my little sprog.” 

Dadtobe!simon gets up from the warm cocoon of the bed and out into the cold, rainy streets because the Missus is craving butter pickle spears and marinara sauce and he is a humble servant to your wants and needs. Butter pickles though, seriously?

Dadtobe!simon who has had all of the Sprog’s necessities ready to go from the beginning. The cot and moses basket, assembled. Nappies, baby bottles, and dummies are all bought and stored away. If the baby can use it, it’s in the house put together and clean. Ruthlessly efficient. 

Dadtobe!simon doesn’t let you pick up anything heavier than a jug of milk because “You don’t need to be doin’ any heavy liftin’, it’s what you got me here for, love.” And you aren’t above _not_ being extra pampered because you’ve always hated putting the groceries up anyway.

Dadtobe!simon usually sleeps spooning you but now you’ve got the maternity pillow swaddling your front, a pillow in between your thighs and another underneath your hips and supporting your lower back because your heavy stomach puts so much pressure on your body, but your mountain of pillows helps you rest as best you can. Simon can almost physically see the aches alleviate when you lie down so he doesn’t complain about the lack of cuddles nor how he’s been essentially shoved into a space the size of a twin bed on your California king. 

Dadtobe!simon who squeezes the heel, kneads the instep, and presses the pads of his thumbs into the balls of your swollen feet— you’re carrying extra weight after all, and as you’re groaning in relief you start crying because look at how large you’ve gotten. You not having puffy, achy ankles is a miracle and how can he still love you looking like this? He grabs both of your feet and peppers kisses from the toes to the ankle you seem to hate because how can he not love you. Especially like this. Your body is sacrificing comfort to bring his little babe into the world for him to meet. All the changes you seem to hate— the stretch marks, the extra weight, the not-so-tight skin— to him it’s perfection. You’re perfect. He’s never really lived before you and now he can’t imagine living without you. The both of you. 

Adieu.

[hey-august]

Description: You're feeling a little under the weather and Buggy takes it upon himself to help you feel better. Word count: Just under 1k Warnings: SFW, fluff, GN!reader, no use of Y/N.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗ ✩ ˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Buggy knew something was wrong when you didn’t drink the coffee he left on your side of the bed. He’s an early riser, so he’d leave you to wake up slowly while starting his daily duties. Usually you’d find him after a few hours with a thank you in the form of a kiss to his stubbled cheek. Buggy would act like it’s bothersome and you’re interrupting, but that’s not true. In fact, if you don’t do that part of the ritual, he would find you to ask if you don’t like him anymore.

When you didn’t show up, he began his search and it took way too long to revisit the bedroom. There are days where you sleep in and he would find you on his side of the bed, peacefully wrapped in the remnants of his presence. But this time it looked like you got into a fight with the sheets - one where you defeated your opponent but ultimately succumbed to injuries from the battle. The blankets were crumpled all around the bed, but none were touching your body. And your coffee was untouched.

You didn’t react to his presence until you felt a large, slightly sweaty hand on your forehead. The pressure and dampness did not feel good and you let Buggy know by swatting his arm away and rolling in the opposite direction. Well, you tried to roll away. Even without his hand on your head, the pressure in your skull increased with the attempt to move your entire body. You gave up with a wince and settled for tilting your face in a different direction. Tears of pain and frustration pricked the corners of your eyes

“Headache?” His voice was soft, practically a whisper. Your response was quieter, just a simple nod. 

And that was the end of the conversation, which you appreciated. You weren’t in the mood to do anything more than exist and wait for the pain to subside.

You listened to his footsteps fade away before letting yourself drift on the droning waves and rushing water outside. You didn’t truly fall asleep, but the current managed to carry your consciousness forward a few hours. The next time you surfaced, you felt a little lighter. Less confined in your head. And in the bed. The blankets were sloppily draped on the far corner of the bed - within reach, but not touching you. Also within reach was a cup of water and an apple.

Sitting up was a chore. Your head felt heavy, like you were about to tip over. An aching throb sat in the back of your mind, so you took a deep breath to try and push it away. The idea of crunching an apple rattled in your mind like coins in a glass jar. Instead of risking damage to something fragile, you settled for drowning your thirst. The liquid poured through your body with a comforting weight and fullness. Laying back down, you tugged over a blanket and let your mind wander again.

Quiet rustling started drawing you back before a sharp clang and profanities pulled your mind and body back in unison. Sitting up was much easier this time. The difficult chore was assessing what was going on in the room. It was darker, but clearly still day. The smell of flowers was everywhere, just like the puddle of water spreading on the ground.

Hands were tucking cloths around the windows, adding make-shift curtains on top of the existing ones. Scarves, blankets, spare fabric, anything seemed large enough and could block light had been recruited. Buggy himself was holding an empty container with his forearms, scowling as he kicked flowers out of the water on the ground. Looking around, you saw a few other containers of flowers sitting on surfaces throughout the room.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you,” Buggy grumbled.

“It’s okay, I think I slept enough.” You watched as he sacrificed one of the curtain scarves to the floor water.

“You sure? You can keep sleeping, they’re mostly holding things down out there. I remember you said the dark makes your head feel better.”

The kind gesture brought a gentle weight to your body as a warm pressure settled in your chest.

Buggy saw you look at the flowers, counting all 5 of the containers in the room. 

“I couldn’t find lavender, but I thought maybe one of these shi- flowers would help.” 

Buggy followed your gaze around the room, suddenly feeling self-conscious. The room wasn’t actually dark, he spilled water, you were using the blanket he thought you didn’t want, and you didn’t eat the snack he brought. Buggy was starting to worry that he created a mess you would feel compelled to clean up as your weird way of saying thanks.

You saw the hesitation in Buggy’s movements and a slight droop in his body. He didn’t have to take care of you - it was only a headache - but he still took time to check on you in a subtle but somehow flashy way. Knowing how invasive his self-doubt can be, you invited him to the bed with a pat of your hands. Buggy joined you, moving slowly with the invisible weight on his shoulders.

“Can you cut this for me?” you asked while handing him the apple. Although you could just bite into it, you wanted to be babied a little longer.

You leaned against Buggy’s shoulder and felt his body relax as he focused on slicing the apple. You ate the first piece and slipped the second one into his mouth. The pattern continued until only the core was left.

“Feeling better?”

“Mmhmm, thanks for taking care of me. You did such a good job.”

Although he didn’t fully believe it himself, Buggy knew that you believed he did a good job, and that was enough for him.

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

xi.it’s okay we’re the best of friends

— the one where all you do is think about the feelings that you hide.

warnings: guys, my brain was failing during this so not really proofread, also please pretend the dress is the same in both pics lol, alcohol consumption. 2.5k words.

currently playing: drive by halsey!

masterlist ✢ next

Liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, mati.bassi, tchalamet and others.

View comments

softyn FIRST POST SINCE MAY AND MOTHER WANTS US DEAD

ynstars I LOVE YOU SO MUCH SLAY

aid4anfeels ugly bitch

lecsainz516 whose wedding is this, charles and carlos were there too

formulayn did @/charles_leclerc take these?

liked by charles_leclerc

THE COMMENTS FOR THIS POST ARE LIMITED.

August 5th, Madrid, Spain.

WHEN Charles said you needed to make new memories in Spain to replace the bad ones, you didn’t have a wedding in mind. However, with the rollercoaster that is your life as of lately, you don’t swim against the current anymore. Just going with it is not a bad way to live when you’re still trying to reach the surface and get away from the wreckage.

Things aren’t good. Not yet. The press is still having a field day with all that he said, she said merry go round. Aidan and Victoria are fighting to play the victim and Mia Kim is on a mission to paint you as the worst sister-in-law who could have ever existed. Which, to be fair, paints her in a weird Freudian light.

But things are better than they were the last time you were in Spain. And that’s something to be grateful for.

“Are you sure?” You asked Charles on FaceTime for the third time that night two weeks ago, he had just asked you to be his plus one to one of his Ferrari mates’ wedding. “Are you a hundred percent sure they won’t mind?”

The last thing you wanted was to feel like an intruder, and with the type of attention you carry around like a dark cloud over your head, ruining someone’s special day was not an experience you wanted to add to your repertoire.

“Of course they won’t mind, soleil.” Charles assured, he was still in Hungary after the Grand Prix. “Tommaso told me I could bring anyone, and I want to bring you.”

The last time you saw Charles in person was in New York City, almost two months ago. It doesn't mean, of course, that you stopped communicating. Whenever Charles is on his phone, you can be certain you'll receive a text, a picture or a random iMessage drawing. You handle time zones as best you can without sacrificing too much sleep time, especially for the one who has to drive a car at 300 km/hr.

Although he insisted on you coming to any Grand Prix of your choice, you thought it best to stay away from the paddock for a while. Plus, you had some work to do. You didn't love Talk Shows while promoting, most hosts did horrible, unfunny jokes, and you were the butt of a lot of them, but if being in some of them helped you to speak about your situation and dismiss whatever rumor Victoria, Aidan or Mia (or just about half the internet) had going on, you were willing to make the sacrifice.

You were also willing to attend a complete stranger's wedding just to see Charles again, but you didn't want to give that thought the depth it demanded from you. Not in the seven hour flight from New York to Madrid, and not now, as you're getting ready for Charles to pick you up to go to the wedding.

Your blue dress is frankly magnificent, and you are aware of how good you look, but it doesn't hurt that the first thing Charles does when the doors to the lift open, is compliment you. Well, to be fair, the first thing he does is gather his thoughts and try not to feel stupid after basically picking his jaw up from the floor.

"You look gorgeous," Charles says, clearing his throat. His sudden anxiety makes you chuckle, as his Adam's apple bobs up his neck. "I missed you so much, soleil."

You are mildly disappointed when he doesn't hug you the way he did back in New York, and you dismiss the feeling almost as quickly as it appeared. Although his words linger in the air, he missed you, and you did too.

"I don't want to ruin your hair," he explains, as if he's read your mind, and smiles wider.

"Right," you shake your head, it was obvious. "You look pretty good yourself, Charlie," you add, always trying to return the compliment, and only managing to make it awkward.

There is something about men in suits that makes them twice as attractive, and it's unfair when it comes to someone like Charles, who is already way too handsome as it is.

"Thank you," Charles is always nice enough to accept your half-assed, anxiety induced compliments. "Shall we?"

You nod, and when he offers his arm to lead you to the car, you link yours through it taking a breath so deep, it makes your lungs ache.

"Do you like weddings?" Charles asks as the engine of his car roars to life. A red Ferrari is the only way you manage to describe it, afraid of getting details wrong. Although you're certain Charles would patiently explain anything you needed to know about it, you don't ask.

"Everyone likes weddings," you reply, setting both hands on top of your knees. "Right?"

Charles chuckles and shrugs, "I guess so,"

You love weddings, except when you're expected to be the bride.

"Charles," you pat his shoulder and he takes his eyes off the road for the briefest second. "Are you completely sure the bride doesn't mind my presence?"

You don't want to give yourself some sort of importance you don't deserve—the bride has more important things to worry about—but particularly nervous about how your presence will be received at the celebration.

"Seriously, y/n," Charles soothes, his right hand leaves the steering wheel and searches for your own blindly, accidentally landing on your empty lap. He takes his hand back immediately, red creeping up his neck. "It's fine." he resolves, his sight way too focused on the road now.

"Alright," you whisper, smoothing the skirt of your dress. "Alright."

Both of you remain silent the rest of the way as you take in the Spanish landscape and Charles drives like his life depends on it. You promised yourself you'd ask for as much information on the happy couple as you could, but your voice is lost in the pit that opened in your stomach.

And the evening is just beginning.

It's after the ceremony, at cocktail hour that you find everything out about Tommaso and Bárbara thanks to none other than Carlos Sainz, who seems to really have a thing for gossip and also, for making fun of you for crying during the vows.

"Leave me alone, Carlos," you warn for the last time, this time threatening him with your closed fist. "Not my fault you don't have a heart in that big-ass chest."

This makes him laugh harder, and even Charles chuckles against the lip of his whiskey glass.

"I miss you so much around the paddock, y/n!" Carlos sighs, patting the place above his heart. "For real."

You click your tongue. "Sure you do,"

Carlos and you talk a lot less than Charles and you do, of course. But if Charles calls you during whatever free time he has while in the Ferrari Suite, you can trust Carlos to insert himself in the conversation.

"And a lot of the other drivers do too," Carlos' tone is mocking again, and you glower at him.

"Stop picking on me," this time you punch him on the shoulder.

"I'm being serious. Lando has a crush on you,"

You talked to Lando a few times, mostly when he and Carlos were being boys and hitting each other in the balls outside the Ferrari Suite and Lando made small talk as he tried not to touch his private parts. A crush is an exaggeration, Lando just told you he thought you were cool for making movies.

"Why don't we take some pictures?" Charles suggests before downing the rest of his whiskey. You don't miss the look he gives Carlos.

"Why not?" you smile at Charles, shrugging. The place is beautiful and you would love to have a memory of this whole thing that you can go back to.

"I'll catch up with you guys," Carlos calls as you two walk away, uninterested in the impromptu photoshoot.

Charles directs an annoyed look at him again and then makes it go away to return his attention to you.

"What was that?" you ask, taking Charles' arm again for him to lead you to where the rest of the guests are more scattered and won't photobomb your pictures.

"What was what?" Charles lifts an eyebrow, forever the expert at playing dumb. Or, not really.

You shake your head, this is another deep thought you don't want to venture into. There is enough of this weird tension already, and you're not sure if Charles feels it too.

─────────

"Your girlfriend is beautiful," a lady is patting your hand, a gentle smile on her face as she looks at Charles. She's the spouse of another Ferrari team member, and the first thing she did was compliment your dress before even asking for your name.

"Oh, I'm not—"

"We're just friends," Charles clears up, gentle as well. "But y/n really is beautiful."

The woman raises both eyebrows and laughs, an 'oh you kids' snicker that isn't unkind. "Of course, of course."

It's the first time of many during this party that Charles has to say you're not in a relationship, and it seems to get easier every time the words come out of his mouth.

Although it's true, you're not sure why it nags at you.

You cry again during the couple's First Dance and verbally threaten Carlos to leave you alone as you wipe your tears carefully, doing your best to keep your makeup intact. He laughs, but takes your threat seriously and remains quiet. This whole Tom and Jerry thing is amusing but he doesn't want to actually make you angry.

A few songs in, after you're done bickering with Carlos and you have finished your third glass of champagne, Charles asks you to dance with him.

An slowed-down version of Sixpence's 'Kiss Me' plays as you take the dance floor. You blame your giddiness on the fact that you finished that flute of champagne in record time.

"What is it?" Charles questions, smoothly placing one hand on your hip while the other holds your palm. His thumb runs up and down the curve of your wrist.

"What if I step on your foot?" you retort, looking up at him. That's only one thing that makes you nervous, although you know how to dance. You took lessons for both Supercut and Parisian Valentine.

Laughter bubbles from Charles' chest and you join in, although this makes you even more nervous. It would be stupid to say you don't see how handsome he is, even if he's just your friend.

"I won't mind," Charles promises, and his fingers press a little harder against your hip bone.

"Okay, then."

It's obviously not a complicated endeavor to sway around the dance floor with Charles, he lets you set the pace, lacing your fingers together after you spin back to him.

"Thank you for coming with me, soleil," he says in a low voice. You can smell the alcohol in his breath although it's been a while since he stopped drinking, he still has to drive you back to your hotel. "I really missed you these two months."

"I love weddings. Thanks for inviting me," you squeeze his shoulder, the contrast of your manicured nails against his shirt distracts you momentarily from the fact that you can feel his breath against your jaw.

It's the second time today that you miss the chance to tell him you missed him too, and you know he notices it by the way he leans away.

The song ends before your tongue decides to respond to you again and Charles lets go of you. A few seconds feel like an hour as you stare at each other, unable—or unwilling—to say anything of what either of you really want to say.

"Care to dance?" a guy with longish hair and dark eyes is offering you his hand now, as a faster song starts and the lights around the room turn brighter.

You break eye contact with Charles and when you look at him again, he just nods, taking a step back to your assigned table.

"Sure," you tell the guy, a tense smile on your face. "Let's dance."

The ride back to your hotel is silent again, and you're too tired to find a way to fill it.

Charles' energy has shifted and this makes your stomach turn. Your anxiety worsens every time you feel someone is 'off' towards you, and that someone being Charles makes it a hundred times worse.

He takes the elevator to your room with you, placing his hand gently in the middle of your bare back to let you in first.

"We're okay, right?" you whisper, looking at your distorted reflections on the silver wall of the cubicle.

You see Charles' reflection frown and then his face turns to you. "Of course we're okay, y/n. Is something wrong?"

You shake your head, the loose strands of your bun tickle your nape. "I'm just wondering."

Charles is never bothered by your need for reassurance, not even when he needs reassurance himself. That he's not being a complete and absolute moron by wanting the woman all the boys want to dance with, and holding onto that little slither of hope that he might have a chance with her. He's the one standing next to you after the party, still.

"We are okay. Didn't you have fun today?" he asks, pushing those thoughts aside. You're friends. Just friends.

"Of course I did!" you inhale sharply, "I just— nevermind." you take your hand to the back of your head, already tired of the half undone bun that threatens to give you a headache.

"I had fun. I always have fun when I'm with you," Charles follows you out of the elevator and down the hallway to the third door marked with a 3321.

You're still struggling to find the exact hairpin that holds your hairdo together, and Charles pinpoints it almost at the same time as you do, pulling it out swiftly to make your hair fall down your shoulders.

It's a meaningless gesture, Charles hasn't given it a second thought or stopped walking. But a shiver runs down your back as his knuckles graze your nape.

"Thanks, Charlie." You say, swallowing.

"Of course," Charles puts the pin inside the pocket of his trousers with a shrug.

You stand in front of the room for a minute, having a stare down again as you rub the back of your head.

"Thank you again for today, Charles." you're the one to break the silence, keycard already between your fingers. "I had a great time."

"I'm glad, soleil." Charles his dimples appear when he smiles and your breath hitches when he leans towards you. It feels like you've been showered with ice cold water. "Good night, y/n," he says and presses his lips against your cheek.

"Good night, Charlie," you wave him goodbye from the door as he walks back to the lift.

The feeling of his lips against your skin is there, even after you've washed your face and tucked yourself into bed.

─── team principal radio: ❝thank you for reading! surprisingly, i don't have much to say this time other than i really hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that I appreciate each one of you dearly!♡❞

✰ paddock club members: @sassyheroneckgiant @flowerchild-96 @fangirlika @shegotboreddsoo @roseamongthorns13 @cissyp @chimchimjiminie16 @saturnsrinqs @roni-midnights @gayyvodka6 @studioreader @its-ash-not-grey @lu-morningstar @ferraribabe @reidsworld @feelslikestrawberries @celestialams @kosmosgalore @heeseung-baby @missenclod @buendiabebeta @mycenterfold @aces-tattooartist @burningrred @you-bleed-just-toknowyouarealive @rainybabe25 @ru-kru @lazybot @teenagedreams-cl @cool-ultra-nerd @kuskumu @formulakay3 @bisexual-desi @somanyfandomsbruh @icarus-nex @haziefairy @xjval @xoxoloverb @sainzleclercs @headinthecloudssblog @incoherenciass @bookophiliac @torrie421 @nooshytushie @azxulaa @steephanie07 @anonymous8462 @tbisloneely @pukklv @bn7921 @be-your-coffee-pot @fdl305 @lovely-blackinnon @landonorizzz @ruleroftheuniverse @ivegotparticulartaste

want to join the paddock club? click here!

if you are not tagged please check your blog settings because tumblr isn't letting me tag you

[magentas-dystopia]

Something I really lament is the move towards digital media. Slowly we start to never own the things we like. Even if we "buy" a digital game, or movie or show. It's locked behind a certain platform or service. Once it shuts down we lose it forever.

(me when big booby anime girl explosion Is taken off of Netflix)

I also feel like there's a certain charm to owning physical media, like things you can hold and the satisfaction from pressing a clicky button or putting a disc or cassette in and seeing it work.

(oooh so classy so retro so.. expensive in the modern day)

More people should try to make copies of what they own digitally, or try to buy physical media before it's lost from streaming services and digital storefronts forever. Like the case with certain games like Godzilla 2014 and Transformers War for Cybertron. They don't exist digitally anymore. Only hard copies exist outside of emulation and at insane resell prices like... INSANE ones for a mediocre Godzilla game

So yea. Buy some more CDs of those albums you have on replay! Buy a DVD of that niche obscure anime you like! And most importantly PLEASE PLEASE START MAKING HARD BACKUPS OF SHOWS YOU LIKE THAT YOU PIRATE!!! media preservation is important!

(me downloading every episode of Daredevil onto my hard drive to burn to a DVD later so I can give it to all my friends)

This is now going to be a Comprehensive guide on how to rip a CD

POLL TIME!

Burning and Ripping Disc's❤️❤️💕💕🏳️‍⚧️🏳️‍⚧️

STEP ONE:

BUY A CHEAP BLU-RAY/DVD DRIVE FOR YOUR WINDOWS COMPUTER

here are some I recommend!!!

i personally use this pioneer one :)))

DVD drives in general are relatively cheap from 30-20 smackeroos, but Blu-ray drives are around 80-100 bucks depending on the manufacturer but offer better support for copying HD video such as on a Blu-ray.

STEP TWO:

FIND A PIECE OF MEDIA YOU ENJOY.

in this case its gonna be a CD!!

i really enjoy Vespertine by Bjork, but i wanna have it on my computer just in case anything happens to my CD. SO. ill open Windows Media Player

(she hasn't changed since 2011 <3333 be urself girl)

NEXT

ill insert the disc into the player. and it'll start playing!

Pause the disc and go into Rip settings

NEXT!! select the format!

if you want to conserve space and don't mind sacrificing audio quality select MP3! if you want to hear the same level of audio quality as preserved on the CD, select a format labelled LOSSLESS. I recommend .WAV files as they'll work with most devices including an android phone or iTunes on PC (more on that later ;3 )

NEXT!

create a folder on whatever u wanna save ur music to! (u can call it whatever u want the world is your oyster bestie)

THEN!!! FINALLY

go into more options on the Rip Settings menu!

select ur folder and press Rip CD!!!!

the fun thing of this now, is that you can pull these files on your computer and put it onto your Android device so you can listen to your hearts content without lugging around your CD in a player at high quality without any subscription service with free reign of who you can give your download to!

But Magenta! what if i have an iPhone?

ohohoo fear not bestie because iTunes on PC has an even EASIER way to do it

because simply putting in a disc with iTunes downloaded prompts THIS

(oooo so new age)

and if you have apple music on your iPhone this will sync to your phone if you logged into iTunes on PC!!

thank you for coming to my TED talk

[finluz]

//totk gameplay video spoilers

i was a bit cautious when they showed those vehicles in the last trailer, but after seeing the new gameplay video i am completely sold.

i was wondering how they were going to deal with the weapon durability since it turned a lot of people off of the game, and people were throwing around ideas like crafting or repairing or just removing it.

this fuse mechanic seems kind of genius because it embraces that crafting and player improvement without sacrificing the wild and improvisational aspect that makes botw so special. i think making the player sit at a crafting bench prepping for five hours would've been a bad idea, and this new shit is perfect.

a lot of open world stealthy crafty games like these have a lot of useless items in them that i just never really get around to using other than really specific situations, leading to them wasting a slot. (i.e. scatterbangs in legends arceus or literally any of the consumables in elden ring)

having that type of item just pull from the infinite pool of cooking materials you randomly pick up or pointless physics objects that normally don't have an interaction is such a seamless idea that im genuinely impressed.

one of the first things i saw was that the ability slider was replaced with a symbol of an apple, which seemed strange at first, but after seeing how the rest of the video played out, i realize just how much of a gamechanger this is.

i dont know how to stress just how happy it makes me that you can just do this instantly when a contemporary game would make you sit at a bench or menu screen crafting x5 homing arrows

god i love zelda

also i want to raw link

[rinmession]

Feeling a little sad for Rozenmarine in Lebkuchen/Freya's endings ngl. Spoilers and rambling below:

Of course to start, Not Being Gruesomely Sacrificed is always for the best in the scheme of things, but also: imagine living so much of your life with fate as a compass, being so thrilled to be with your soulmate after years of dreaming about her to the point you know her intimately without having met her, guiding her through a dream you're willing to die for-- and then out of nowhere, in only a week's time, that fate, that dream, is totally averted at the last minute.

Either Elise chooses someone else to die in Rozenmarine's stead and leaves to become a depressed aristocrat, is burned at the stake, or she abandons the ritual altogether and leaves Kieferberg with someone else, and in any case Rozenmarine's whole raison d'etre is gone... I wonder if it's almost worse on a personal level for her if Elise rejects the ritual and chooses someone else, because then what was Rozenmarine even there for? To give Elise the push she needed to leave I suppose, but then what's Rozenmarine to do with her life afterwards? Elise has a different soulmate who she wants to fulfill her dreams with, not her, and the person Rozenmarine says makes her whole is gone.

She says she's not necessarily Elise's soulmate even if Elise is hers, and that fate is something than can be changed, so she's certainly aware of other possibilities, but I wonder if she knows what to do with herself if the fate she's been chasing is so directly rejected.

Even with her happy ending in Star-Crossed where Elise says Rozenmarine 'broke free of her fate' after abandoning the ritual, she feels the need to go out on her own for two and some years and 'grow', learning new skills and taking on a whole career as a chimney sweep before she's ready to meet Elise. It's a bit vague, but she's certainly lost without the same fate that chained her, and needs to find new grounding for herself. As Elise needs to go out and find the world outside Kieferberg, Rozenmarine must go out and find things for herself that aren't Elise before she's ready for their new beginning. Even though she's with Elise as she's always wanted, this wasn't the plan! How much more disruptive it must be to lose that sense of fate without Elise, without any purpose or person to rebuild herself for.

And just to twist the knife a bit, Rozenmarine in her own route--as happy as she is to be with Elise at last--expresses her remorse that she couldn't have come to Kieferberg earlier, or even been born there to make memories with Elise and feel like she's part of a community. She pointedly compares herself to Leb and Freya here, which makes me wonder how that envy must extend to endings where they're the apple of Elise's eye. How much more bittersweet an experience it must be to only have that happiness for a week before it's snatched from your hands...

So what then becomes of her then when she doesn't show up at all in Leb or Freya's endings (besides, strangely silent, in the background of Auto-da-Fe), when she doesn't have Elise as a tether? Lebkuchen and Freya both appear in one another's happy endings at least, so I think it's intentional. Lost without fate and without her soulmate to aim towards, perhaps it's too much for her to stay on in Kieferberg without Elise after having reached the end of the line on her star-lit path, and so she returns to her nomadic life as a now aimless wanderer, knowing nothing else. Maybe as Elise could never feel like a part of Kieferberg without Holle, Rozenmarine cannot feel a part of them without Elise. More hopefully, perhaps her experience in Kieferberg allows her to reinvent herself as in Star-Crossed, however hard the heartbreak. Rozenmarine characterizes the scales of her treasured pinecone in one of her dates as all part of her path to Elise, but maybe in that same metaphor there's a dot of hope for her she says herself, and there are more scales for her yet to find...

[alwerakoo]

Baby Blue (Chapter 1)

Rise of the TMNT Leonardo/Yuichi Usagi Chapter 1 of a longer fic THIS IS PART OF A SERIES - might be confusing to read without context

AO3

---

When Usagi sees him for the first time that day, Leo's sweaty, covered in oil and grease, and his knees still ache from crouching down.

If Leo had a choice, he would've chosen any other circumstance; preferably one where he didn't have to worry about how he smells.

But he was the one who offered to help Donnie in the workshop, so blaming that on anyone but himself is a lot more difficult than usual. Which doesn't mean he's not trying, of course.

Donnie, on a principle, didn't let almost anyone near his baby, let alone one of his rather destructive brothers, so only a fool wouldn't take advantage of such a rare opportunity. A fool, and apparently: Mikey and Raph, who, from experience or intuition, already guessed what 'helping' looked like in Donnie's eyes.

“This is child exploitation,” Leo complains, rubbing his stiff hands together.

His fingers tingle from handling all kinds of metal, paint, and other things he's not even sure how to call.

Leo is strong, like all of his brothers, but without adrenaline pumping through his veins, something that always accompanied a fight or even (occasionally) training, he can feel each hour taking its toll on his muscles.

“If you don't shut up, I'll show you real exploitation.”

Donnie doesn't even spare him a glance, mostly because he's still lying under the hood of the tank, elbow deep in its belly.

He's wearing a completely new shell; less durable than the previous ones, as anyone who's had the chance to exchange even a single word with him in the past few weeks would know.

Leo knows that Donnie doesn't like to compromise on his inventions, especially not the ones he holds so dear. But sacrificing the shell's previous primary function for a much lighter structure and a soft center that didn't weigh down the fresh scars seemed not so much preferable but necessary.

But Leo knows him too well to not see through the mask of an unfulfilled engineer.

It's only been three months since they saw Shredder for the first, and hopefully last, time. The wounds on Donnie's back have grown new skin, pink at first and so delicate that something in Leo clenched nervously every time his brother leaned over, like the bonds holding them together were about to snap at any moment.

Now they're pale and rough and seem to irritate Donnie less, at least judging by the fact that he no longer sits on the couch with his spine perfectly straight.

But Leo knows that there are other scars left on him; ones that can't be protected by a layer of metal and fabric.

Donnie is nervous, twitchy, like all of them now. But he stands with his back to the walls now, looking over his shoulder. He doesn't like open spaces, hunching his shoulders and tightening his fingers around his staff.

There are dark circles under his eyes.

And Leo has always been able to see right through him.

So nowadays, he spends a surprising amount of time standing right behind his brother, watching his back.

(He spends a lot of time making sure Donnie isn't alone.)

“Pass me that screwdriver,” Donnie says after a moment of silence, holding out one hand and flexing his fingers. Leo reaches for the tools carelessly scattered to the side before his brother adds: “Not that one, the other one.”

“You don't even know which one I was holding,” Leo mutters under his breath, but agreeably places the appropriate tool in his hand.

“I sensed your bad vibe,” Donnie says, probably only half joking.

Leo stands up, rolling his eyes. He stretches his numb limbs, resting his shoulder against the cold metal of the machine. But then he steps back a little, remembering the oil he'd managed to somehow get all over his arms.

Donnie's baby – affectionately named 'Turtle Tank', is the apple of his brother's eye, and the object of Leo's endless jealousy.

He suspected that even if the tank somehow passed all traffic inspections and regulations – Raph would've sooner glued him to the passenger seat than let him drive it on his own.

Donnie was clearly never going to receive the same treatment, which Leo considered both unfair and perfectly understandable. He himself would never want to stand between his brother and his one true love.

For now – he'll have to settle for a passenger-row view.

“You know,” Leo begins, feigning indifference, like he hadn't been waiting to breach the subject since morning. “April told me you went to school with her again.”

Seeing a human school wasn't so much a dream of Donnie's, as much as it was a checkmark on his 'so bad I have to see it' list.

April said 'sure', clearly amused and intrigued in equal measure, like she could sense a car crash approaching and could no longer look away.

Raph said it was the stupidest idea he's ever had, and it seemed to scare him almost as much as the following demonstration of Donnie's cloaking brooch.

Leo said it was the funniest thing that's happened in a while, and included a few quips about his brother's taste in fashion (though that was mostly to dispel something growing uneasy in his chest every time he looked at his very familiar, but very human face).

Mikey only said to bring him back a 'souvenir', though he hadn't specified what kind (perhaps that was why Donnie returned that afternoon with a stolen extension cord).

Draxum hadn't said anything, because he wasn't there and no one told him.

“Mhm,” Donnie mumbles under his breath as he works.

“That's the fourth time,” Leo notes.

“Mhm,” Donnie repeats, this time with palpable suspicion. “I like spending time with April.”

A warm feeling settles in Leo's chest, right before he quickly squashes it down, knowing his brother too well to fall for his half-truths.

“Ah, yes.” He puts up his hands, cupping them by his cheek, raising his voice to a near squeak. “I’m Donnie and I love spending time with my friends!” He lowers his hands, resting them on his hips. “Admit it, you’re just a nerd who likes school.”

“I don’t like school.” Donnie finally pulls himself out from under the machine, gracing Leo with a look. “Neither does my father, which is why I never went to one.”

Leo leans in, tilting his head a little.

“You’re a nerd.”

“You’re a moron.”

“Home-schooled freak.”

“You can barely count.”

Leo opens his mouth but doesn’t finish, cutting himself off in mid-sentence at the sudden creaking of the door. Leo turns around even before he hears a familiar voice.

“Hey, guys,” Usagi says, almost melodically, quickly slipping into the garage.

Leo glances at him. Then blinks, looking him over once more.

Usagi is wearing his work uniform. Or at least – most of it.

His pants are a little dusted with something that might be flour, but he’s thrown off his white shirt, unceremoniously tying it around his waist. It leaves him in a tank top, which Leo notices immediately, to his own embarrassment.

Leo watches him only for a moment, before promptly turning his gaze away, fixing it onto the floor.

Which is a shame, because Usagi is ridiculously nice to look at – in the most objective way.

He's round with fur around the edges but lean and sturdy, with arm muscles tightening when he crosses them over his chest. His smile creases the corners of his eyes, the red half-moons around them.

Usagi leans his hip on a desk, and Leo spots a new expression on his face with a corner of his eye. Like he knows Leo's putting a lot of effort into looking anywhere but at him.

“Aren't you supposed to be at work?” Donnie hums, his tone suggesting that his excitement at seeing his friend is entirely dependent on the circumstances surrounding his presence.

“I'm on a break,” Usagi announces. “I thought I'd check in on you.”

“Mhm. And how is that going for you?”

Donnie, having clearly reassessed his priorities, once again slides under the tank.

“You look like shit,” Usagi states.

His voice still has the same, joking tone.

In the moments where Leo has avoided his gaze, Usagi managed to pull out his yo-yo, lazily twirling the string between his fingers.

“Thanks for the feedback,” Donnie says in his usual, neutral tone.

Usagi laughs, short and loud, like he's doing it for both of them.

Leo steals a glance at him, and quickly realizes that in the time he was putting all of his attention into the flood and walls – Usagi has been looking at him.

Their gazes meet, and Usagi narrows his eyes, like he's trying not to smile even wider.

“Hey,” he says.

He moves his hand, as if trying to lift it, clearly forgetting about the yo-yo still wrapped around it. He untangles his fingers, finally lifting his palm in a slightly awkward gesture, pushing his ears off his shoulder.

“Hi,” Leo replies, a little breathless.

Usagi opens his mouth, like he's planning to say something more, but stops, interrupted by the loudest, squeakiest ringtone Leo has ever heard.

He raises his hands, reflexively covering the sides of his head. Even when he can't see Donnie, he knows he's doing the same.

“Why the fuck is it so loud?” Leo says, raising his voice above the incredibly distorted vocals of Britney Spears.

Usagi, finally untangling his fingers enough to pull his phone out of his pants pocket, glares at him a little.

“It gets loud around here during rush hour,” he says in his defense, flipping open the phone. “Hello?”

In one moment: Leo learns two new things.

How quickly the smile can fade from Usagi's face: something he previously thought downright impossible, and honestly – rather upsetting. And that, apparently: his friend speaks more than one language.

It takes him a moment to recognize Usagi's harsh, clearly irritated tone as Japanese; mostly because he's never heard him sound this cold, no matter the language.

Leo watches with a new kind of slightly concerned attention as Usagi crosses his arms over his chest, nervously tapping his foot.

Donnie, seemingly lured from his hiding place, rests his hands on the floor, his head on the metal next to Leo.

“Do you understand what they're talking about?” Leo asks, his voice lowered.

Donnie reaches out, waving it in the universal gesture of 'so-so'. Then, an almost painful grimace breaks across his face.

“But I don't think you want to know.”

It's a nothing answer, but before Leo has a chance to protest, Usagi closes the phone with a sudden snap of plastic.

“Sorry.” He sighs quietly, relaxing his shoulders a bit. “I have to go. The tokage got to the trash again, and I'm the only one they don't bite.”

“Why?” Leo asks, mostly out of reflex.

“I feed them, sometimes.” Usagi replies. But then he freezes, his ears perking up stiffly. “Uh-um. Do you think that’s why they keep coming back?” He looks away, biting his nails in a new wave of panic.

The next moment he’s standing in the doorway, pushing it open with the necessary force. He doesn’t say anything more, but Leo still receives a crooked smile in response to his: “Well, see you later?”, which he can only consider a success.

When the door closes again with a quiet creak, Leo glances at his brother, but Donnie speaks before he has a chance to.

“What’s going on between you two?” He asks, so suddenly that Leo straightens a bit, thrown for a loop.

“Between who?” He asks, stupidly.

Donnie sighs quietly. He reaches for a rag, previously thrown to the side, wiping the oil from his hands.

“Between you and Usagi,” he clarifies.

He doesn't look at Leo.

Which could mean nothing, because his brother never seemed to fully master the intricate art of proper eye contact, and Leo never had any trouble finding true emotions beneath his relative indifference.

But it could also mean something more, something like disapproval or confusion, and Leo's newly clenched stomach seems much more inclined to that scenario.

Leo curls in on himself a little, folding his arms around his torso, gripping the edges of his shell.

“What's that supposed to mean?” He replies evasively.

Donnie frowns, huffing quietly as the oil stubbornly sticks to the inside of his claws. He stands with a slight grimace, walking over to the sink in the corner of the room.

“That's what I'm asking, isn't it?” Donnie raises an eyebrow. Then: “Are you two, like, going out?”

“What?” Leo sits up, so abruptly that he almost chokes down on his own tongue. “Why?”

Donnie glances over his shoulder, sliding his hands under the cold stream of water, and their eyes finally meet.

“Are you asking me why you're dating, or...?” He frowns, like he's not entirely sure who's the problem in this conversation: him or Leo.

“No.” Leo stands, mostly to keep on the same level with his brother. “Why do you think that?”

For one unwavering moment, Donnie just looks at him in silence.

He turns away, wiping his hands on a towel with insufferable casualness, leaning his back against the sink.

In the meantime, one of Leo's hearts manages to circle his entire body – from his throat to the very bottom of his chest.

He knows Donnie must feel how hard it's beating. He hates that fact more than ever.

“Nardo.”

Donnie's voice softens unexpectedly, taking on the same tone he sometimes uses when he tries to sound comforting. Which means that he usually ends up somewhere between patronizing and like he's talking to startled cattle.

“I’m not stupid,” he continues anyway. “Or blind.”

Leo presses his lips together.

He looks away, crosses his arms over his chest, then lets them fall again, sighing quietly.

He knows Donnie isn’t. None of his brothers are.

He knows that it was only a matter of time before they brought up what they had been half-jokingly dismissing and plainly ignoring until now.

But this – stating it like it's so clear, so obvious, so blunt, makes something in his chest tighten painfully, his fingers twitch nervously.

He thinks he’s just embarrassed.

(He thinks that some part of him never stopped fearing the rejection that was never meant to come.)

Donnie raises his hand, adjusting his headscarf. He managed to get some oil on it earlier.

He sighs quietly, lowering his arms. He steps closer to the tank, resting his shoulder against the cold metal.

“Listen, Nardo.” He shoves his hands into the pockets of his pants, like he's not quite sure what to do with his own body. “I'll be straight with you.”

“Uhm, I don't know if that's the right word for this occasion,” Leo says, more out of habit than anything else.

He immediately winces, looking away.

“Okay?” Donnie frowns. Then, a slightly more serious expression returns to his face, which in his case can be associated with an exceptionally wide range of emotions. “Listen. Usagi is a bit of a...”

He makes a vague gesture with his hand.

Leo thinks he can guess what Usagi is, but listens anyway.

“Lovebug,” Donnie finishes. He crosses his arms over his chest, shrugging. “But he's been pretty set on you for a while now.”

“Wow,” Leo says, dryly, before the real meaning of the statement sinks in. “Oh.”

Donnie reaches out a hand, resting it on his shoulder.

“He likes you.” Then, his face hardens, and the hold on his shoulder tightens almost painfully. “So don't fuck it up. And don't play with his feelings, I don't want any broken hearts. That would be so fucking awkward.”

Leo shrugs, pushing his hand away.

The old, familiar embarrassment still builds up in his chest, but the sudden defensiveness quickly squashes it down.

“You know I'm not like that,” Leo bites, a little more honestly than he planned, giving way to actual hurt.

Donnie clicks his tongue, but something on his face softens.

“I know. Which is why this is a warning, not a promise.”

“Are you giving me the shovel talk?” Leo snorts, somewhat reassured by the change in tone.

Despite everything, something in his chest beats harder, warmer at the thought that this is the closest to sincere support he could expect from his brother in this scenario.

He thinks Donnie feels it too, because when he speaks again, he does so almost lovingly.

“I wish I had a shovel every time I see you two together, so I could smack you over the head with it.” With a quiet sigh, he sits down again, resting his shell on the floor to look under the tank again. “Now, hand me the screwdriver.”

And before Leo has a chance to even crouch down, he adds:

“Not this one, the other one.”

[mastermindmp3]

1, 2, 3, 4—

The Prophecy opens with the softest whisper, a male voice (likely Aaron Dessner) counts the song in. It's very faint ( I didn't hear it on my first listen through, actually. ) Deciding to record / keep the count in is an interesting writing tactic. Count ins can lend songs a sense of being like, a chant, but it can also lend a sense of vulnerability and rawness, an 'unedited' feel.

Here, it kind of has the same edge of like, an acoustic, live performance, and definitely calls to mind this idea of the singer songwriter, sitting with her instrument and her band mate, and processing her feelings out loud. And god, does the Prophecy deliver.

The Prophecy is a plea, it is hands and knees begging for another chance. There's this sense of defeat in Swift's narrator, as she acknowledges that a "lesser woman would've lost hope," and that "a greater woman wouldn't beg," even as she turns to pray for a different fate. There's something so painful in the speaker painting herself not as great, and not as weak, but as someone too strong to let go and not proud enough to know when to walk away.

It paints this picture so vividly of someone who has had her heart broken so much that the aches all bleed together. She says that she "thought I caught lightning in a bottle, but it's gone again." Gone again. If she were a greater woman, a woman more proud and less willing to suffer at the hands of her lovers, she would have walked away. Instead, she "howls like a wolf at the moon."

I love how.... claws and teeth that description is. Swift, in the bridge, paints her narrator as so desperate she is reverting to all her base instincts, sounding "like an infant" and being so drained that she feels "like the very last drops of an ink pen." Burnt out, hurt, left without even the words that Swift's narrator once donned as armor. All she has left is begging.

The Narrator does discuss the singular loss that has brought her to her knees - describing "poisoned blood from the wound of the pricked hand." A lover whose self destruction has soaked into her, has infected her mind. It brings forward, again, that idea of wanting to help someone through their darkest patches, but being unable to, because they don't want to get better. ( Its sister lyric, if I had to assign one, is You sacrificed us to the gods of your bluest days. from So Long, London. )

But I don't think that singular loss is what pains her so. The song makes it clear, it is the culmination of years that has brought her here - and by her own hand. I got cursed like Eve got bitten. (Note: My main source of bible knowledge was a Gender Women's Studies class I took in college called Women in Biblical Literature, so my understanding of the story might be... off.) Eve made the choice to bite the apple of knowledge, manipulated by the Snake, and in doing so, is blamed for all of mankind's ills. It's a fitting metaphor for Swift (and in turn, the narrator she portrays,) a woman blamed for something a man also did.

Swift's narrator in The Prophecy has suffered bruises and pains and still has it, somewhere in her heart, to beg for another shot at love. It's painful; how much she wants to be loved, and how little she gets in return. Left feeling as useful as a paperweight - something meant to hold down an important document, but ultimately, put aside once its usefulness is gone.

[dawnthefox24]

My Overwatch Headcanons Part 2 DPS addition

(These are my headcanons please respect them ^^)

Ashe/Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe

Wishes that her parents would have at least noticed her but knows you can't always get what you wish.

Hate's Cole with a passion since he betrayed her and the rest of the gang but won't admit that she does miss him from time to time.

She considers B.O.B as a father figure too her and will do anything to protect him at any cost.

Is an arsonist.

Has called B.O.B the wrong name a few times before.

Wonders where her hover bike is and really wants to know what happened to it even though Cass won't tell her.

Always wondered if Cole really sacrificed himself to protect the gang or it was all just a ruse to leave them for good.

Hate's it when her plans get foiled mainly by Cassidy since they keep crossing paths with one another.

She wonders why Lifeweaver doesn't want his parents support since their making sure he doesn't end up like her.

Is very jealous of Lifeweaver but understands where he's coming from but give's him a heads up in case his parents do drop him or at least forget about him.

Needs to start a competition on who's the better shot since she has a huge ego.

Has wondered if her parents think about her or at least missed her.

Is very impressed by Echo and wished Cole didn't get in the way with the "cargo"

Hate's saying her full name and hates being called Eliza or Liz since those were nicknames her parents gave her.

Is a bit of a narcissist.

Get's annoyed when people mentioned if she had a crush on Cole to which she punches them hard before saying no.(she won't mention that she saw him as a sibling)

Wishes she never met Cole but without him they would have never form the deadlock gang.

Knows she supposed to be focusing on heists but she needs to get rid of a certain pest ignoring the gangs pleas to leave Cole alone.

Really take's her threats seriously and always keeps her word.

She sometimes has to be reminded to sleep since she usually is busy planning a heist and it's usually B.O.B or Frankie who has to remind her to rest( It used to be Cassidy when he used to be part of the gang)

Always vents too B.O.B about her problems and is very grateful that he listens too her

Her favourite food used to be apple pie but now it not anymore

Likes her coffee with a small dash of milk and sugar in it, she can drink it plain once in awhile but she needs some flavour in it.

Symmetra/Satya Vaswani

Realised she was autistic when she actually had trouble reading a few social ques.

When Niran left the academy she really did miss him but won't admit it to him since she finds it to embarrassing.

Will forever be grateful that Niran was her very first friend and she appreciates it since she never really had any friends before till she met him.

Doesn't understand why people hate Vishkar since she thinks what they're doing is right, but is slowly starting to think they might have point.

Is very socially awkward but is trying her best to be a bit more out going.

She likes listening to Lucio music since it keeps her very calm but feels very awkward around him since she has a feeling that he doesn't like her too much.

Always worries for Niran and doesn't want him ending up hurt even though he has no regards for the rules it scares her that she might see him hurt or worse.

Misses playing with Niran hair from time to time since it was really relaxing for her mainly she enjoyed doing a few hairstyles for him.

Her favourite tea is Jasmine tea.

The first time she met Baptiste she was already threatening him, since she doesn't want to see Niran heartbroken.

Doesn't like to talk about how she grew up in poverty.

She finds Zenyatta as her own teacher though she does get a bit jealous of Genji since she doesn't understand how Zenyatta can deal with someone like him.

The only two people she truly trusts are just Niran and Zenyatta since they seem to understand her in some ways.

She finds gardening peaceful and calms her nerves as well, she also found out that she has a good green thumb as well(Which makes Niran happy )

Really wants to be friends with Lucio but doesn't know how too since he seems a bit hostile towards her.

She actually taught Niran how to kathak and was impressed that he was practicing how to dance with her .

Has her own little routine on what she needs to do.

Always has to reminded Niran to slow down even till this very day.

She see's Niran as a brother too her and to her he's the little brother who always gets in trouble.

She enjoys spending time with Niran and surprisingly Hanzo as well for some tea time together.

Whenever she gets too stressed out she starts dancing to calm her nerves since she feels move free when dancing as there is peace too it.

She misses eating Niran's pumpkin coconut soup, so when they reunited again she asked him to make it very bluntly to which he did.

She tends to get lost in thought once in awhile as her mind tends to go somewhere else.

Is visual and hands on learner since she doesn't understand when people tell her something it becomes very complicated too her.

She enjoys spending time alone since relaxing for her.

Sombra/Oliva Colomar

Knows that Talon shouldn't have trusted her from the start but she stays for only Sigma since she doesn't want him ending up getting hurt.

She and Cassidy are like siblings to one another though she hates the fact that she doesn't know so much about him but so far his internet search history makes her chuckle.

Knows that Moira carries band-aids.

Always makes sure the Sigma is getting treated well since she cares about him.

Even though she enjoys hacking it could be sometimes boring too her since its the usual speal she finds on the daily bases.

She understands where Illari is coming from but is worried that if she finds something it might crush the poor girl and she doesn't want that happening too her.

Knows the Mauga really wants Baptiste back but always erases where he's at in case Mauga does look him up.

She's happy that Baptiste left Talon for the greater good since is 100% right as Mauga does bring out the worse in him.

Her and Cole tend to spend time together and catch up on a few things but will leave little remarks about his past only to be shut down real quick by it.

Enjoys changing people's passwords if their asshole's too her or to her friends.

Doesn't like the experiments that Moira is doing on Sigma since they're taking advantage of him for "games"

Enjoys sigma company and takes to him about things that upset him she also made a promise to herself not to leave him if things go south.

Has blackmailed a few people before but sometimes does it to get free stuff.

She became friends with Kiriko,Brigitte,D.va and Tracer though she won't admit it too them since there not really friends.

Knows about Frankie but finds it comical that she'll be the better hacker than her.

Loves to annoy Zarya from time to time getting a rise out of her.

She still closes door on Reaper since she finds it hilarious whenever he gets mad though she does wonder if he still misses his wife or something.

Her favourite food are Tamales

Her and Sigma tend to talk about space and birds as well. She tells him her favourite bird is the Social flycatcher since that bird reminds her of herself.

Has wondered if Omnics ever dream or if they even fall asleep. (She tried to hack Maximilien but of course she got in trouble before she could even do it)

Listen to people's playlist and will always change it to her own liking since "people have no taste in music"

Won't stop still she finds more information about Cole since she really loves a challenge and it's a challenge she won't stop till she completes it.

Torbjörn Lindholm

Worries for Brigitte 24/7 but is very proud of her and how far she accomplished her goal to where she got.

When he took in Bastion he was a little bit hesitant at first but in the end things turned out great of the both of them and he feels sad that bastion is the last of his kind.(He adopted Bastion much to Ingrid dismay)

He loves his kids and his wife dearly but also his turrets those are his babies too

He keeps in contact with his others kids wondering how their doing and asking how his grandkids are doing as well.

There's a deep regret on what he did to Angela with her biotech as it turn into a biotech rifle ignoring her warnings.

He doesn't want to build Cole a robo horse since it takes time an energy but in reality, He's just lazy since he could built it but he doesn't really feel like and wishes that Cole would stop bothering him for a moment.

Tends to get stressed out when Rein and Brigitte tend to run in head first but he trust that his daughter will be okay.

The first time he saw Ganymede he wasn't so sure that the bird will be safe with Mitzi being around but so far they've never really interacted, though the chances are very high none the less so he's protecting Ganymede at any cost.

Is happy that Bastion is part of his family now but is a bit concerned since Rein is a little bit iffy with him taking in a bastion but none the less he seeing the progress between Bastion and rein bonding but is keeping a close eye on rein in case he does something.

Love's his Ingrid always and loves to speak of the time they first met too his grandkids much too Ingrid dismay but he knows she enjoys it.

Will always be thankful for Reinhardt saving him from certain death.

He does see Angela as a daughter but knows she won't even speak to him only when its needed since he can't fault her for that after all he did go behind her back.

He's very proud of Brigitte and though he knows he not suppose to have favourites Brigitte is his favourite child but so is Bastion but he won't say that out loud.

Bastion

He always happy helping out around the work shop with Torbjörn whenever he can

Is very happy the first time he met Ganymede and is still working on building his nest.

The first time he saw Rein he was terrified of him and still is.

Has to protect Ganymede from Mitzi from time too time since Mitzi has tried to eat Ganymede more than once and luckily enough either Brigitte or Torb always catch Mitzi or Ganymede flies away from the cat.

He really really likes Orisa but its a small crush.

He and Cole get along pretty well since he enjoys his company but noticed that almost everyone enjoys Cole's company which is very odd.

Knows that Sojourn doesn't understand what he's saying to her but appreciates the effort of her trying to understand what he's saying to her.

Enjoys the upgrades that Torb gives him and is very thankful for it.

Will die for Ganymede.

He and Ganymede are very inseparable he never leaves without Ganymede.

Is trying to find the right branches for Ganymede so he can rebuild his nest again.

The only people he likes are Cole, Brigitte and Torb plus Ganymede as well.

Wonders if he should either ask Zenyatta or Orisa to be his translator for Sojourn whenever he speaks too her. Since it seems she's the only one who is struggling with whatever he's saying.

Even though he doesn't eat or smell food but if he did have a favourite food it would be Ingrid apple pie.

He takes really good care of Torbs hat and wears it all the time since he finds comfort in it.

Sojourn/Vivian Chase

She doesn't have any regrets for when she spoke out against Overwatch she knew what she did was right.

Is very close with her sister and niece as she writes too them making sure that their alright.

Had to put Murphy on a diet since she kept eating all the left over scarps and knows that Murphy isn't too happy about it.

She loves cats but is allergic too them.

The people she is close too are Cole and Winston, since they seem more likely to understand her.

Loves croissants mainly buttered croissants.

Doesn't even regret getting her cybernetic enhancements since how ever could she turn down rocket legs making things go quicker for her.

Knows that Jack is pissed off at her for speaking out against Overwatch but find it very hypocritical of him since other agents spoke out too.

She has no idea how the others can understand Bastion except for Zenyatta and Orisia but thinks the others don't even know either since all he does he beeps and boops.

She actually did miss Winston and the others since she did tell them that.

Was surprised when Hanzo thought about adopting a dog though she might send him to a few shelters who are showing dogs who need to loved and taken care for in the future.

She fins it really weird on how much Genji as changed since she always remembered him being angry and well emo as well but none the less she's happy that he's gotten better.

The first time she got her rocket legs she slid into the wall not even knowing how too stop at first till she got the hang of it. Thought it would be easy but she was wrong.

She loves her niece dearly with all of her heart and always makes sure she stays safe for her. Her nieces words not hers.

Wanted to be a detective when she was younger but turns out she surpassed that goal of hers.

Will kill anyone for Murphy,harm her beloved Murphy you'll be 5 feet under.

Wants Jack to let go of the past for what she did but knows he's too stubborn to let anything go.

Was a barista part time but had to quit since too many people recognised her.

Still keeps in touch with agent Tremblay

Loves a nice hot cup of coffee everyone morning mainly a double double.

Knows what Cassidy meant when Jack is chasing ghosts

Amelie Lacroix/Widowmaker

Enjoys classical music as it keeps her calm.

Killing truly does make her feel alive since that's the only thing keeping her sane and not lose herself too madness.

She misses Gerard everyday and hates herself since she really loved him with all of her heart.

Used to be terrified of spiders but has grown a liking to them now.

Is very much terrified of Moira because of her experiments.

Is a wine connoisseur but prefers red wine but sometimes white wine is also good.

Always wondered how come Ana never took the shot too kill after she shot her eye out.

Doesn't like Tracer since she finds her a distraction but annoying as well.

Loves doing ballet since keeps her in more control of her body and mind.

Knows that Reyes made mistake for going to Moira for help.

Likes being isolated since she doesn't want to be around to many people.

Finds her teammates a bit incompetent.

Is always shivering in the dead of night do to how slow her heart is since she cannot keep herself warm.

Always visits Gerard gave and talks to him telling him what's she been doing staying there for awhile till the next morning heading back to Talon.

Doesn't like the fact that she sometimes has to go on missions with Sombra since she always asks her stupid questions.

Some what regrets killing Gerard.

Always wondered if things would have differently if she wasn't kidnapped and didn't end up kill Gerard.

Feels very calm when she has her rifle with her since it makes feel at ease, finding some comfort in it.

Doesn't like loud noises.

Always goes to her and Gerard favourite spots when he took her out on dates.

Her favourite food is wine but she also likes Salade de Chèvre Chaud (Goat Cheese Salad).

She likes liquored cherry chocolates but also salted caramel chocolates too.

Tracer/Lena Oxton

Loves her girlfriend Emily and plans on proposing to her very soon.

Has a deep regret for not saving Mondatta but more over she should have taken that bullet instead of him.

Her and Cole are very attached to the hip since she finds him as a good friend but also a brother too her since he always makes sure she doesn't get too caught in the mission.

Even though she bad at every type of video game she loves cooking games since she finds some calmness in it.

Hate's Widowmaker with a passion and enjoys messing her up since she finds it funny whenever she gets frustrated.

Is terrified with Orisa when she told her too run getting the message with how she catches criminals.

Has to be reminded to take things slow.

Always asks for nature tips from Lifeweaver because she had no idea what she's doing as she accidentally kills Emily plants more than once(She keeps buying new ones).

Her and Iggy spend time together but also gave Iggy one of Lucio signatures.

Plans on making Iggy maid of honor and Cole her best man.

Enjoy's Cole company since she really did miss him and was the first person to tackle hug him when they saw each other once again(she cried hugging him)

Has asks Cole is he knows that like at least 2 people have a crush on him and was confused when he said yes too her.

She won't lie the first time she sparred with Genji during his time when he was a Blackwatch agent he scared her to death but over all in the end there good friends with each other.

She and Winston are very close since she's gotten to know him more during her time in Overwatch but always the checks up with her Chronal accelerator.

Will forever be grateful that Winston made her accelerator.

Sometimes has a girls night with Angela, but sometimes Angela tends to be very busy so she goes to Kiriko,Brigitte and Hana.

When playing cooking games with her she tends to be very competitive and will get mad at the other play she's playing with telling them to mend their stations when cooking, they need to be on their side of the kitchen and she's on the other side( her Gordon Ramsay side always comes out).

She had a feeling that Fareeha was gay since she used to tease her about her crush with Angela, she still teases her about it to this very day.

Loves listening to the old vinyl music and still can't believe that there still around.

Love earl grey tea and always has it with scones cranberry lemon scones in fact.

Dreams about having a big family with Emily but mainly pets.

Really wants to know what Zenyatta did before the crisis but there's no straight answer with him also she's pretty much disappointed in Genji since even he doesn't know either.

She,Angela,Cole and Freeha always have a get together to catch on a few things and see what they've been doing.

Has tried to get Hanzo into D&D but he keeps refusing but she won't give up till he says yes.

Reaper/Gabriel Reyes

Is in consent pain to the point where he can't move his body too much.

Had a small crush on Jack and Martina knew about it.

He did see Cole as son to him.

Thinks that Jack is responsible for the way he turned out but also the fact the way Overwatch fell too the ground.

The only people who have seen his face are Ana and Moira.

He deeply misses Martina and his son but knows they won't even recognise him.

He still believe what he did was right by killing Antonio even know Cole was nagging at him through the whole way he still believes he did nothing wrong.

The pain killers do nothing for his consent pain but they somewhat work none the less but still a total dud in the end.

He should have killed Jack when he had the chance but wheres the fun in that but mainly he wants him to leave him alone.

To him Sombra some what reminds him of Cole but more annoying than ever.

He believes that Jack abandoned when in the explosion since he knows he could have saved him but didn't since he was on the brink of death.

He is somewhat grateful that Moira saved him but some part of him wishes that she didn't.

Has no ill will towards Ana but never liked that fact she's always taken Jack side than his since he thought they were friends.

Knows he has an anger problems but he doesn't even know how to fix it since thats the only thing he can feel besides the pain he's feeling.

He has wondered if Jack has ever saved him during the explosion maybe things would have turned out differently.

A part of him wished he should have retired a head of time and settled down with Martian and lived his life the way he wanted.

The only thing he doesn't regret was taking Cole in even though he used the deadlock gang as leverage against him.

He fully doesn't trust Sombra but knows that Talon needs her in the end.

He cannot taste food but he does miss Martina cooking since she made some amazing conchas.

100% misses Martina cooking.

The only people he scared of are Martina and Ana.

He always attracts cats for some reason but in the end he feeds them though he pretends to hate it.

Still enjoys sewing since he finds a calmness to it as it some what control his anger, its the only thing that keeps him calm.

Misses making everyone there Halloween costumes since he doesn't like the cheap crappy ones.

Cannot sleep during the night with depending on how bad the pain can be.

Hates dancing in front of others since he doesn't like being the center of attention.

He tries too control his anger but gets even more angrier when he cannot calm himself down.

Adopted a stray cat in secret and only Sombra knows because the cat reminds him of certain cowboy that he knows.

Genji Shimada

Will forever be grateful for Zenyatta and Angela for everything that they did for him.

He really wants Hanzo to get better but knows he can't push him since Zenytta had to reminded him of that.

Wants to explain to Kiriko what really happened to him but doesn't want her to hate Hanzo since in the end he's suffering enough already and also the fact it was his fault the Shimada clan crumbled.

He is ashamed of himself for what he did during his time in Blackwatch.

Doesn't like the fact that Moira pointed out the obvious of agreeing with her on what happened with Antonio since he was clouded my anger and revenge on his brother that he didn't care at the time.

Will forever be grateful that Cole was his friend during when they first met.

Thinks his brother and Cole have a crush on each other.

Has a crush on Angela but also a has crush on Zenyatta as well.

Still plays video games but doesn't play with D.va since she's likes to rub it in his face that she's the better gamer.

Is really concerned for Hanzo well being.

He really does see Cole as a brother though he knows he was an ass to during his days with Blackwatch.

Used too get nightmares of actually killing Hanzo, but now they just stopped.

Allowed Lucio to hook his music to his lights but found it very annoying but wanted to stop him from asking him so let him only do it once.

Doesn't like Ramattra since, Ram basically left Zenyatta.

The first time he sparred with Zenyatta, he would constantly lose too him because of how angry he was.

Feels very embarrassed by how much little control he had when he was angry to the point that Zenyatta had to teach him how reckless it was(Which is very much embarrassing)

Has regrets for all the things he did during his youth and also his time during Blackwatch.

Has to tell Kiriko he isn't the same person he was back in his youth anymore and that he's changed for the best.

Will spend time with Hanzo just to repair what bond they have left but knows that Hanzo won't even look at him for what he's done.

Thinks Fareeha has a crush on Angela.

He was worried that people wouldn't like his brother for what he did too him, but wasn't expecting Angela and Cole to be the first people to welcome him but mainly Angela(Since he explained how much Hanzo ruined his life with Cole).

He's happy that his brother made a few friends.(Mainly Mei,Brigitte and Illari)

Enjoyed playing D&D with Lena and asked his brother to play with them though his brother says he'll think about it.

Finds it very hypocritical of Jack accusing him and Cole for what happened during their time in Venice since he explained to him that his mind was clouded by anger.

He apologised to Lena the first time they sparred when he was in Blackwatch though she forgave him(even though he knows he scared her too death)

He has no idea why Symmetra is jealous of him whenever he spends time with Zenyatta.

Whenever stress he meditates.

He worries for Cole since it seems like he hiding something even though he told him he regrets what they did during their time in Blackwatch he did try his best to make good memories even though his memories contain him being broody.

Regrets giving Overwatch the green light to take out the shimada clan only for the Hashimoto to swoop in.

Hanzo Shimada

He wondered if things would have been differently if he didn't kill Genji and would have told him to leave.

Knows Kiriko hates him for leaving but he lost so much but knows she has every right to be mad him for leaving.

Can't bare to make eye contact with Genji but he's slowly trying.

Has a major sweet tooth for strawberry pastries.

Still thinks he doesn't deserve Genji's forgiveness for what he's done to him.

When he says he was better with a sword he really means it.

Gets PTSD and night terrors for slaughtering Genji to the point he refuses to sleep.

Was surprised when Angela and Cole were the first people to be friends as he allowed himself to vulnerable around them.

Adopted Illari/became her mentor since he see's himself in her, he also heard her call him dad but choose to ignore it.(it made him smiled though)

Always helps Brigitte with her poetry and is happy she's slowly improving on it.

Enjoys ice carving with Mei since he finds a calmness being with her.

Really hopes that his father is proud of him but also forgives him for what he's done.

Has anxiety when mentioned about his past.

Thought about joining Talon but decided against it.

Joined Overwatch for Genji's sake since he's is his only family.

Salmon sashimi is his favourite food with tuna being seconded.

Prefers Oolong tea.

Has a huge crush on Cole but doesn't even know what to say too him.

Tried to write a few love letters too Cole but chickened out last minute throwing them away.

Is slowly healing at his own pace but he's getting there.

Sym and Lifeweaver are his gossip friends but he mainly listen to the gossip.

His favourite animals are horses and sparrows.

Feels a bit out of place now that he finally having a "normal" life for once.

Might try to defeat the Hashimoto clan on his own without Kiriko or Genji help, since he knows it's his responsibility and duty.

He finds Baptiste attractive.

Has OCD on being perfect.

Feel like he and Cole carry the same burden though different.

Solider 76/Jack Morrsion

Knows the wound on his side isn't healing correctly but chooses to ignore it.

Wishes he saw all the signs on what was happening to Gabriel.

The reason he is still going after Gabriel is because he wants to help him.

Used too have crush on Gabe.

He misses Vincent everyday.

Is terrified of Cole since he might turn out like Gabe even though he knows that he and Ana trained him as well.

Hate's Sojourn for turning her back on Overwatch since he thought they were friends.

Even though Ana is with him he wishes she never tagged along to begin with.

Is slowly going blind but can still somewhat see.

Thought Gabriel died in the explosion since he was lifeless when he saw him so he mourned him thinking he was dead.

Wishes he never even became strike commander.

Has night terror about the explosion and abandoning Reyes like a coward.

He could have save Gabriel but didn't even know he was alive till he saw him.

See's Lena and Angela as his own kids(Cole used to be but all he see's is the shadow of Gabriel Reyes)

Wonders when Gabriel will kill him since he knows he really deserves it.

Knows he responsible for how everything turned out but refuses to take part of the blame so he blames it on either Genji or Cole for not doing the bare minimum.

Knows he tried he hardest to make Overwatch work but he was under consent stress and couldn't keep up with all of the work that was happening.

Won't stop fallowing Gabe even if it kills him he wants to make everything up too him for what he's done.

Echo

Wishes she knew more about her successor Aurora

Saw Mina and Cole as parental figures since she was more close to them.

Is always willing to learn more and adapt to her surroundings to improve on herself.

She's Bastion personal translator too Sojourn since she's quiet surprised that she's the only person who seems not to understand Bastion.

Is thankful that Cole saved her and woke her up from her quarantine even though like she states it really didn't feel that long.

Her only regret is that she didn't say goodbye to Mina.

If she could eat and smell her favourite food would be pie mainly apple pie.

Feels like she doesn't belong anywhere.

Is helping Bastion build a nest for Ganymede.

There are times were she wished she could have saved Mina.

Really wants to make Mina proud like Aurora did.

Knows that she'll never be like Aurora but knows she do everything she can to help.

Has wondered if Aurora is proud of her since she considers Aurora as a sister even though they never met each other, but she likes to think that she is.

Tends to wonder what would happened if Cole ever saved her and she ended up with the Deadlock gang.

Mei-Ling Zhou’s

Really misses her friends a lot and wished that none of this would have happened to them.

She fully understands what Illari is going to through and sympathies with her.

Love's Snowball company since Snowball is the closest thing she has to her friends.

Wanted to be Hanzo friend since he only had 2 friends and also the fact that he was pretty awkward being around other people so she made the effort.

The people she considers to be her friend are Hanzo and mostly everyone she hangs out with.

She knows that Cole understands the weather forecast but doesn't trust the news reporters since they're not very certain on how the weather is going to be.

Finds Junkrat a bit annoying though at the same time very entertaining at best.

She is very sensitive.

She loved playing D&D with Lena and had the most fun playing it and is asking Hanzo to come and join for the next session telling him he could watch.

Is an animal lover and loves penguins since she finds them interesting and cute.

Taught Roadhog how to make dumplings and was impressed by how much of a quick learner he was.

Love's boba milktea is her favourite type of boba but melon is second best.

She speaks Cantonese and Mandarian.

Always apologises even though it can never be her fault she just can't help herself.

She mainly snow though she likes rain too due to how calming it is and relaxing since there nothing great than listening to a storm at home and reading a book.

Is learning how too carve ice with Hanzo she thinks she isn't doing it right.

Junkrat/Jamison Fawkes

He's very glad he met Roadie cause without he wouldn't be doing all the things they both enjoyed.

Is scared of Junker queen but has total respect for her.

Is really trying to make some friends but doesn't understand why they don't want to be friends with him.

Wants Ana too be his mother but was a bit heartbroken when she rejected him.

Is he and Roadhog in a relationship? he doesn't even know himself he just enjoys his company.

The only people he considers to be his friends are Cole and Lifeweaver.

He made Roadie his pig pen for him since where is the fun in that when you can have two traps at once.

The first time he made pig pen it was a bit too much like his own trap so he asked Roadhog for some advice even though he wanted them to be matching.

He always takes advice from Cole how too stop a train even though he doesn't even know how too stop it so he takes notes down...maybe.

Had a feeling that Jack would eat his own toenails since he looks like someone who would.

Always wanted to be a news anchor/weather reporter.

Finds that he and Ashe share the same love for bombs but his bombs are way better than hers and thinks she needs to step up her game.

His favourite animal...spotted dogs the ones that laugh(basically Hyenas)

Is an arsonist but doesn't know the meaning of it, thinks its a compliment.

Is lucio #1 fan.

He'll forever have roadhogs back and knows that Roadie will have his back too.

Pharah/Fareeha Amari

Has mommy issues but is slowly working on them.

She misses her mom but also resents her for being alive since she mourned her.

She never liked her last name being English so she changed it to her mothers since it sounded more cooler than Fareeha English.

Is very close too Cole and see's him as an older brother as she still considers him family.

She and Cole wrote to each other keeping a few updates on one another.

Has a huge yet very obvious crush on Angela but has a feeling that Genji also likes her.

Basketball is her domain she'll wipe you with the floor.

Saw Cole trip on a basketball once and laughed at him.

Thinks her mom is in love Rein with Rein feeling the same way towards her mother.

She going to Sojourn for dog tips advice since she is going to adopt a Rottweiler and maybe a Doberman as well.

If she ever gets a rottweiler she's gonna name them either Rosco or Hades.

Wishes her mom would just come back to her and put her first than any other mission.

Is quiet impressed that Kiriko can keep up with her in a game of basketball.

She talks to her father once in awhile but isn't as close as him.

To her Jack and Gabe were her parental father figures though now she barely knows them.

She is still close with her mom but is still heart heavy being near her though she happy she is alive she just won't tell her that.

Hates it whenever Cole or Lena tease her about her crush on Angela, even till now she hates it.

Always ask Sojourn about Murphy and gives Hanzo some which type of dogs will suit him,Though she'll be honest she thought that Hanzo was more of a cat person than anything.

Hints to Cole about how much Baptiste really likes him.

Has asked Cole if he liked anyone but all she got was a "It ain't none of yer business"

She is really trying to hook up Baptiste and Cole together not even realising that Cole likes Hanzo and Bap is in a relationship with Lifeweaver but to her two hands are two hands.

She remembers the first time she came out she came out to Lena too which Lena told her she already knew that she was gay.

Knows that Cole seems very stressed but whenever she asked he would just avoid the topic thinking it has to do with Jack.

She will forever take care of Angela but does drop a ton of hints that she really likes her but isn't so sure that Angela likes are back.

Hate's playing video games with D.va since whenever she plays D.va tends to annoy her too the point they have a shouting match in which Cole has to separate them.

She won't admit it but she knows that she has a ton of trauma too unpack.

Knows that her mother is trying but she's slowly getting tired of waiting and knows it's not her fault.

When she found out what happened to her mother eye she was beyond pissed and was stopped by her mom and Cole to cool her down before she did anything stupid.

Will always let Angela win in bowling though Cole calls her a simp which she hates.

Really wants to know who taught Cole how too shoot like that, the only people she has in mind are Jack and Gabe.

When she was younger she thought that Cole had a crush on Angela and it made her very jealous of him but found out he wasn't into her because he saw her as a sister.

Honestly thought Cole and Genji were dating found out they were not.

Cole Cassidy

Will lie about his past or just tell people hint about it but he'll never tell the whole truth about it.

Knows that Sombra wants more information about him but always shuts it down killing the mood for her since it's none of her business.

Despise Jack knowing that the old fool can't admit when he's wrong.

Regrets his last words too Gabe when the Swiss HQ exploded in front of him since he never got the chance to apologise to him.

Will sometimes spend the Holiday with Martina and her son since he considers them as family to him and will be grateful when first met them.

Called Ana mom once and is still embarrassed about it too this day,though it seems that Ana can never let him forget about it.

Took him awhile to realise that he had 2 adoptive mom's which were Ana and Martina.

Knows he sucks at all kinds of sports but will never tell Fareeha who taught him how to shoot.

Hate's yelling at people but it get others attention and work done.

The people he considers as siblings are Genji,Angela,Fareeha,Lena and Sombra(Ashe included).

Knows that Baptiste,Lifeweaver and Hanzo have a crush on him,though he has more of a crush on Hanzo than anything.

Found out who Reaper is and is dreading the day they'll have to confront each other once again.

Used to see Gabriel and Jack as father figures but not anymore.

He is still waiting for his robo horse.

He was bit unsure about Hanzo showing up too Overwatch but when he saw him he couldn't help but feel sympathy towards him when all he saw was how broken Hanzo was.

Flirts with Hanzo since he enjoys seeing him getting all flustered.

He didn't mean for Bap to feel bad after he ate his pork griot not realising it was pork of all things and felt even more worse when he had to spit it out in Bap hand of all things.

See's Kiriko is trying to set him and Hanzo up by planning dates for them but is failing miserably.

Thinks that Widowmaker is a great sniper but knows she lacks the combat skills.

Was a bit surprised when Doomfist asked him to join Talon which was very suspicious.

The tapir will forever be his favourite animal since he finds them cute and adorable also they remind him of pigs.

He hates the taste of pork after working in basically a slaughter house mainly pork factory it made him feel a bit nausea, since it made him lose his appetite and also he couldn't put them down.

Will never allow himself to be vulnerable ever again after losing Mina due to how close he was to her as a friend and as a close family member as well.

Has no clue how his deadeye work he is still trying to figure that out himself.

The only people he's close too are Lena,Fareeha,Angela and Genji.

Is stressed out but knows how to hide it well.

Keeps a hided stash of cigar everywhere but knows how much Angie hates it though he can't help himself it became his coping mechanism.

Wishes things would have been different but life kept flipping the coin.

He misses his folks but knows their long gone.

Has cried himself too sleep a few times and wakes up pretending that none of that happened and carries on with the day.

When Angela asks him if he's okay he always tells her that he's fine even though he's really not.

Is depressed but hides it to support his friends hiding his true feelings which he knows is wrong.

Sometimes wondered what would have happened if Gabriel never caught him or he picked the prison instead of Overwatch.

Finds Jack pretty stupid going after Gabriel like that knowing he's either going to be end up dead or worse.

Honestly was a bit hurt when he found out Ana was alive but none the less he was thankful she was still alive.

Wished that Sombra would stop looking at his internet search history, cause how else was he suppose to remove the cactus spines out.

Knows he has the same stride like Reyes and doesn't like to be reminded it of it since he was close too him after all.

Had to built thick skin when he was surviving on his own.

The first time he killed someone was out of self-defense and that's when he knew he was all alone.

Is honestly happy that he retrieved Echo back.

He knows that Echo has some doubt is she wonders if Mina was proud of her and he's sure that Mina is very proud of Echo.

[mylambandmartyr]

when you have the time and energy id be very interested to hear why you dislike the punisher (2017)......... because i also dislike it but can never put into words why or even point to a reason. its always "frank's vibes are off" or "the general vibes are off" or "its painfully unfunny" or "it just annoys me". if you have anything more specific or analytical id love to hear it

Where to even start…

Ok. I'm going to be focusing on just the first season where it’s at it’s "best" to be generous, because all of the most egregious issues get so much worse in the second season so it barely counts in my mind.

It’s got all of the trademark Marvel Problems. The cringe dialogue, the convoluted plots, the nationalist propaganda, the aggressive heterosexuality, sacrificing an interesting story in favor of an American-dream-Apple-pie-and-motherhood ass-plot… etc. etc…

I’ll split this up into a miscellaneous laundry list of complaints for structure, so this doesn’t end up turning into a rambling essay.

• Incoherent messaging/Bad politics

First off, It’s US military propaganda, but we all know that. That impacts its ability to tell an authentic, thoughtful story. Propaganda is always full of contradictions and exceptions to its own rules, which exacerbates problems that already riddle corporate media.

The most glaring problem I think most Marvel properties have is lack of a cohesive message and themes. Daredevil suffers from a similar issue, which is as much of a "too many cooks in the kitchen" problem (too many contradicting ideas) for what they wanted as it is with the producers being spineless hacks who were unable to decide what they wanted their story to be.

They wanted to have their cake and eat it too, in a lot of respects. They wanted to tell a story about trauma, vengeance and the brutality of war but they also wanted a All-American Badass Gun Guy to get young people interested in enlisting, so it constantly jettisons back and forth in tone and makes for shitty television.

• Stupid Plot

The conspiracy-thriller plot feels off-base for a Punisher story, and is jarring if you saw season 2 of Daredevil. It doesn’t even feel like it takes place in the same universe (none of it feels cohesive, which as stated is a running problem)

The series begins with Frank "finishing" his mission to eliminate everyone involved with the murders of his family and symbolically burning his Punisher vest. This is beyond stupid for a variety of reasons. From a continuity perspective, a storytelling perspective, a character motivation perspective… it just doesn’t make sense. This means the writers have to scramble to come up with a new conflict, which is absurd to me when they could’ve just… had him keep going.

• General Characterization

You’re entirely correct in that Frank’s character just feels off. Like I said earlier, going into the Punisher fresh off of Daredevil season 2 is jarring, even before I knew anything about the character from the comics. There’s a sense that there’s something missing with Frank’s motivations and it definitely has a lot to do with the aforementioned stupid Government conspiracy A-plot in season 1.

Imo, Jon Bernthal, despite everything, plays Frank pretty well considering the material he’s been given, but there’s still something off. @cabfarewell says that it’s because he plays him too much like a cop, which I think is true. There’s just air of… Bootlicker throughout the whole show that undercuts the fact that Frank, at his core, is a character who gets fucked over by his government, which is vaguely gestured at but never satisfyingly addressed.

• Sexism

It goes without saying that Marvel is dogshit at female characters and the Punisher is no exception.

It’s tragic because Karen Page, Dinah Madani, Sarah and Leo Lieberman (and to some extent Maria) all have potential but are woefully underutilized. It’s very clear that the writers are using stock archetypes as a crutch (Potential Love interest, "Virtuous" Cop, Mother, Daughter, Dead Wife etc…) and never expand on them more, because clearly they do not see them as people, but like I said, this is par for the course for Marvel, nobody’s surprised.

• The Liebermans

Then there’s my beloved Micro.

I adore Micro as a character for a variety of reasons and I think Ebon Moss-Bacharach plays him fantastically, BUT it has to be said that he embodies a lot of antisemitic stereotypes.

The narrative aggressively pushes the audience to view him as an unathletic, cowardly effete intellectual who’s reluctant to get his hands dirty. He’s scheming and not entirely trustworthy, he’s simultaneously hypersexual and impotent. Literally the only way they could’ve made it worse is if they made him a cheapskate with deep-seated mommy issues.

It’s kind of bizarre because there are things David does that directly contradict the stereotypes, he’s clearly very capable, and not a coward, but Frank and other characters insist that they’re true. It’s just bad writing.

They kind of half-ass a suggestion of a character arc, but it ultimately ends with a restoration of the status quo which MAKES NO SENSE for David as a character.

Sarah’s an even worse case, not even getting an arc and barely changing as a result.

Like I said earlier, Sarah is neglected by the narrative which makes a lot of the things she does not entirely make sense taking into account how a real person might respond in her situation. Sarah and her kids are more plot devices than people, which is disappointing, because I feel like giving her more character would have enriched the story a lot. She’s positioned as a mirror to Frank, being also recently widowed and coping poorly, and like most things in this show this is never addressed fully.

[teecupangel]

Based on @wisecloudnightmare’s tags in the Altaïr and Desmond commits identity fraud (on each other) idea:

#this makes me think of that one comic where joonghyuk keeps saying going away kim dokja and then when kim dokha really disappears #he says don't you ever leave again or I'll kill you asfghjkbijgds #ugh but altaïr with 999th joonghyuk's personality would be so fascinating too #the one where his mind is really fragile but he's still a beast to fight with. only kdj can tame him.

(Absolute spoilers to ORV underneath)

I believe you are talking about the 1863rd Yoo Joonghyuk. 999th Yoo Joonghyuk is the best boi who sacrificed his limbs and life so his companions could reach the ending even without him by making a pact with a certain Outer God (which I think would be a fun idea to play with as well).

We’ll focus on 1863rd version for this one and we’ll make it so that Altaïr is regressing over and over again and he has no idea why.

He’s caught in a time loop that starts every time he died (doesn’t matter when, where or how, what matters is he dies) and he doesn’t even have a goal to focus on.

He always regresses to the same point:

The moment he killed an innocent man underneath the Temple Mount, Malik saying the same words again and again.

Nothing worked.

Getting the Apple of Eden during this time did not help.

Saving Kadar did not do anything.

Killing Abbas before he orders the death of his family and friends did not end this cursed life.

His first life was not perfect but it was a fulfilling one.

His later lives?

He could not bear to watch his sons grow and die before him.

He could not bear the thought of that family of his from long ago become just another part of this wretched tragedy.

That’s when the Apple whispers to him of what he must do.

It never did that before.

So he agrees to it as long as the Apple promises to find a way to finally kill him without any chance of returning to that point.

The Apple only says “Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad’s greatest wish will come true in this ‘round’.”

The Apple’s instructions gets Altaïr to kill Al Mualim early on, branding him a traitor and pitting him against his own brothers. This culminates in pretty much a ‘me versus the world’ with Malik being ordered to hunt him down together with Abbas.

During one of the three-way fight between Altaïr, some Assassins and the guards of the city they are in, Desmond appears.

Now…

Desmond survived the Solar Flare but how he did it was hazy. What he does know is that something is terrible wrong with Altaïr because he doesn’t look like the Altaïr in his memories.

This Altaïr is both more savage yet also more tired than Desmond remembered.

There is a resignation in his movements even as he dodged everything. As if he had given up on life but knows he must continue to move forward, ignoring the pain and tiredness of his mortal body.

Desmond doesn’t know about the regressions until the Apple tells him that this is the 1863rd ‘loop’.

Because of this, Desmond tries to help him and Altaïr leans on him because he is an anomaly. He knows of Altaïr’s first life.

He only knows about Altaïr’s first life, reminding him about it when he himself barely remembers it.

Desmond was from the original timeline.

Desmond was the real key to end this, not the Apple.

And so Altaïr started to depend on him.

Protecting Desmond was the most important thing in this entire world because he was Desmond, the key to ending all of this and the first person to ever get pass the darkness that has clouded Altaïr’s mind for so long.

Desmond was important.

Desmond’s words were law.

All he needed was Desmond.

.

.

On the other corner…

The Apple just lets Desmond use it like it was Desmond’s personal Google.

It does, however, give an error every time Desmond asks why he’s been transported to this timeline and the truth about the loops.

Desmond knows that Altaïr is getting a bit… well…. obsessed with him. But it brought life back in his eyes and that was enough for Desmond. He’d deal with the rest as they come up. (famous last words)

.

The twist is the loop is an unintentional byproduct of the Reader and the Heir trying to find clues to how to save the world by checking the other unused timelines that the Calculations had also found and more timelines that the Calculations didn’t catch the first time.

They didn’t know that Altaïr’s constant use of the apple made him the closest being to them and he gets sucked into their research, but didn’t get to the Grey. Instead, he was taking over the consciousness of the Altaïrs in those timelines they’re ‘skimming’.

Time was inconsequential to the Reader and the Heir. It was not to Altaïr.

They only learned about Altaïr around the end of the 1862nd turn.

The Apple? That’s the Heir staying in the Gray and connecting with the Apple to guide Altaïr into bringing the solution into the 1863rd worldline.

Unfortunately, something happened and what he brought was an incomplete solution.

Because Desmond forgot that he was the Reader.