#<- I guess. I did technically draw part of it

[doink-boink]

Decided to do a panel edit from volume 6!! I am afraid of how decent it looks

[krysmcscience]

Call this the Whoopsie AU (it's barely an AU)

I mean. Narinder never explicitly SAID the Lamb would stay dead... :3c He probably should have been more specific. >:3c

Part Two:

Well. The Lamb tried, but...sorry, Nari, the crown hates you now. Shouldn't have been so quick to lend it out, I guess. :D

Aaaand Part Three:

'Isn't he just adorable?' -The Lamb, probably, while their followers smile and nod and internally scream at the brand new hellcat they now have to share living space with...

Anyway, nothing says 'Dead To Me' like following a person around to loudly remind them of how dead they are to you. Right? Right. Narinder's got this all figured out. <:]

[peach-sea]

Cringetober Day 1. Screenshot Redraw

inspired by this early eah scene where raven "lets her bad side out" playing guitar and my cousin and I go "apple's probably losing it" and then they cut to her and she's making this face ↓

[hotttgrilled-cheese]

C'mon Steve you have like 12 of them, you gotta share with your bestie 🙄

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

[luna-the-cretar]

So while out shopping, I found this book on tarot, and I bought it to help me get a better understanding and such. And, of course, I decided to look at the cards I drew this morning.

Turns out they weren’t calling me a broke greedy bitch. Turns out they were saying that I was alone, bored, and depressed (because I had been stuck inside for the past couple of months—not by choice, mind you), which uh…yeah. Yeah, they were right.

[silverware-is-interesting]

ignore the blank space by Tic

well. i HAD another character fully done (well, technically 2 bt that doesn't matter since it was only a head of one of them) krita really hates when i insert text though. so that's all gone, but have all (-2) of the users i've designed so far i also had a little thing that related to lore but krita hated that apparently (how dari i even attempt to insert text and forget to save the drawing)

anyways, bet you didn't expect me to make KinitoPET user ocs, didja?

[bonus-links]

*waiting eagerly and patiently for directors commentary* :)

IT'S DONE RAHHHHHH ITS FINALLY DONE!!!!!!! I hope you all have enjoyed this chapter but I am REALLY excited to move on to what's next!!!!! i have been waiting literal years to get here,,,,

starting off with a few things: these frames are the same design from pt. 9, just damaged now. it's also uh. literally the same drawings KJSNFKJG listen sometimes I just have to make things easier on myself. also convenient crack through the hero of time's right eye >:-)

okay so the hero of time lore gives me a bit of a headache. let it be known that I understand in wolf's timeline, the events of OOT technically never happened. He knows the "hero of time" moniker bc he's met him, and i could've SWORN that name is mentioned if not somewhere in TP then in the TP manga. suspend ur disbelief for me lol

Anyway the idea is basically that post-game Wolf has done some digging to track down the person the Hero's Shade was when he was alive. I like to imagine he had some kind of bargain with Zelda where if he agreed to come to certain events she'd let him dig around in what survived of the archives after lol. I actually got stuck on this panel for a while trying to think of some other imagery that got this idea across without being so,,,idk on the nose? but i couldn't think of anything so i went with this HAHA. Even if Mask wasn't technically the "hero" in this timeline, I think he still ended up being a prominent figure, and some documentation of him would exist. An unfinished portrait, a text about the history of the royal guard, military records, correspondence between him and the castle, etc.

ALSO ALSO. how do they know they're talking about the same hero of time? well, they don't. they're making an educated guess lol. obviously whoever made this statue of the Hero of Time couldn't make it look exactly like him, but I feel like Wolf has noticed enough similarities between depictions to be like. hey wait a second

wake is trying to give a pep talk here like "come on guys, going on adventures is what we do!!" meanwhile Wolf and Loft are both like. yeah i guess leaving our loved ones behind with little notice to go on dangerous missions we may never return from IS what we do.....

speaking of which Loft is maybe technically being a little bit of a hypocrite here but I really think he's just trying to make sure Wake doesn't make the same mistake he did lol. he's feeling guilty

one of many things I really regret abt this chapter is not having Tetra and Loft have a conversation similar to the one he and BOTW Zelda have. I feel like Tetra's experience of getting to grow up outside of the pressure of the royal family or her role and then basically having it forced on her during the events of WW would be very valuable for him to hear. I had so many things I was trying to juggle this chapter and somehow that just slipped through the cracks 😭 im sorry tetra.

AT LAST!!! ANNA FROM FROZEN!!! when all that was going down a few weeks ago i was like GUYS GUYS WAIT. HE'S ALMOST HERE. does this mean I have to get a new icon now

in case its not clear (and it probably isn't) he's in the ALTTP lost woods!

okay so some of you may have noticed this, but up until now we've basically been following the thread of mainline games, starting where the timeline merged and working our way back to where it split in OOT. ALTTP is technically part of that, as the timeline where the Hero of Time dies. I have them all connected through the Lost Woods. The pitch for this was basically "wouldn't it be so fucking funny if Mage could've joined the story way earlier but didn't bc he was the only one with enough sense and also enough gall to just throw something through it." and then I couldn't NOT do that

so on that note, this is the BOTW lost woods. If you look closely, you can see Wolf in the distance.

I wanted to do something to establish him as a magic user! he could have just pulled these out of his bag but where's the fun in that. you might also notice that he's not wet because the rain isn't actually hitting him

ALTTP ZELDA MY BELOVED!!!! that's all

that's all i've got for now!!! bonus links turned 3 years old 3 days ago which is. wild. thank you all for sticking with this story for so long!!!

[meanbossart]

Jacked anon again (jeez I guess this is my legacy on your blog now lmao), I tend to forget how ripped he technically is in game, but that's because I tend to ignore that. Bro has a default strength stat of 8, which means a -1 to strength checks and strength based stats, so I tend to attribute his in game model's defined abs and tits to a few things: 1) not much variation to the game's body models, and 2) bro was starving for years, and so any muscle he did build up, whether for aesthetics purposes to lure in victims for Cazador or working out our of boredom or whatever the hell you want to say it was, were especially noticeable due to the fact that he was starving. Kind of like Hollywood movie stars being severely dehydrated so their abs are super noticeable.

So I personally don't see him as being super buff due to the combination of those things. Not to say he shouldn't have any muscle whatsoever, I just tend to forget that not everyone interprets things in the same way haha. To me, Astarion would be on the thinner side if there was more variation in BG3's body models. I also don't tend to see people drawing Astarion as buff as you do (nothing wrong with that at all btw, I love men with tits) and the fact that in your lore he's a Rogue/Fighter multiclass, it's definitely fitting and fun to see a different interpretation of him. Does that make sense? I hope that makes sense lmao. All this to say, I love how you draw him. There's no right or wrong way to draw a character (for the most part, nuance exists) and I enjoy seeing the different ways people draw him!

LOL, there are worse things to be than "the Jacked Anon", at least. Thanks for playing along!

At some point in my life I heard from a DM that stats should not necessarily be a factor in how a person designs & roleplays a character; and I really like that! Otherwise, I could see how characters within x or y mono class could all turn out a little too similar, so that's usually the assumption I operate under - though like you said, it's all up to preference, and at the end of the day I do still like to point and laugh whenever a low CHAR character sticks their elbow into their pint while flirting at the inn.

For me, I take the character's body types pretty much as they are save for some small changes I would make if it were up to my preference - but they wouldn't really affect their silhouette overall. Here are my personal justifications for everyone's vacuum sealed six-packs, plus what I would tweak if I had the chance:

Astarion: He was very fit when he died, and his body retains that state as long as he's well fed. I personally like to make him even more pale than he appears in-game and emphasize the tired eyes.

Gale: Using a charm to improve his appearance. I wouldn't change anything per-se, but I would have made it that at some point throughout the game he stops using illusion magic on himself and reveals a paler, older-looking man whose whole half of his body is rotting off.

Karlach: Just beef her up, to be honest. I also would have liked her outfit to resemble some type of rugged uniform to solidify the mercenary/wardog aspect of her story.

Lae'zel: She's perfect, LOL. But I wouldn't scoff at unique gith armor for her and perhaps a shorter haircut.

Shadowheart: A more, erm, subtle armor set would have been nice, and I think they could have pushed a more wild/messy look with the hair and makeup like we see in the concept art. it would have made her far more unique and served as a really neat visual foreshadow of her incident from childhood/father's lycantropy. I especially like the ones where her hair almost completely covers her eyes.

Wyll: I mostly think that his transformation into a devil could have been far more dramatic, but I also believe a large body type would have suited him more and made for a nice contrast with his gentle nature.

[itslifetreesworld]

So I've been having this idea of doing one of my favorite looks of Ethan and Benji across the M: I series! Obviously Benji joined in mi3 so I put the first two Ethans together to jump start everything. I hope to do each one every day so stay tuned!

I will also write something explaining why I picked that particular costume/look, with screenshot references and anything I found interesting during the process, so if you are interested in some ramblings here we go:

Mission: Impossible

I know everyone thinks of the Langley suit when talking about the first M: I movie (so am I). I'm not saying it's overrated because it's not, but I do think maybe that's too much of a cliche if I also pick that? So the other day I watched a video essay discussing the evolving of costumes in movies and they mentioned this grey striped suit with blue shirt and a blue tie in M: I and I just thought, damn, that's a really nice suit:

It was the suit Ethan wore when he met with Max. It's a bit of a shame that Ethan slowly turns to a very utilitarian all-black-and-leather choice of clothing and does not really wear anything like this anymore.

Plus, I think it is one of the very few times where Ethan wears a long coat (the only other appearance actually being in FR? Correct me if I'm wrong)

Mission: Impossible 2

Ok so the thing is, I don't remember a lot from mi2 ... (would you blame me thou) so when I watched it again trying to pick a favorite look, what I realized is that... (Spoiler alert if you haven't seen mi2 which is from,,,literally 25 years ago)

...that a lot of my favorites are actually the villains in Ethan's mask!?!? I find it very funny but then it would not be fair to do that, maybe I can do that as a bonus one after everything? Anyway eventually I picked Ethan in this grey-ish blue shirt with a vest:

I think this was technically still part of the disguise of Nekhovich, but it was pretty cute (and I'm running out of options)

My favorite part of this look is actually the disheveled hair due to the removal of the mask, and it's also super fun to draw :D

Mission: Impossible 3 (finally)

My first choice of Ethan's look in mi3 is actually the one with the brown suede jacket, which is also the one with the most screen time (I think?)

The second one that came into my mind is the tactical suit during the mission to rescue Lindsey, which is also something l like a lot but never really reappeared on screen:

(btw do you know how hard it is to find anything that's neither pitch black nor blurry while showing the suit during this sequence, this is the best I can do)

But as I put them next to Benji...none of them feels right!? At that point I realized I had no other choice than this aforementioned all-black T-shirt and jeans combo when he called Benji in Shanghai.

I am not complaining about anything, the beaten-up Ethan and the blood are all part of the look and they are VERY GOOD (I mean to draw).

Speaking of Benji, before doing this, I genuinely thought he only had one costume, the one when he's rambling about the rabbit's foot:

But the one when Ethan called him is actually slightly different! I think it was the same blue jacket that gave me the impression of only one costume:

Anyway, I actually preferred the rabbit's foot one, but again for pairing him with Ethan I went with the second one.

Btw I cannot find anything about what pants Benji wears in the movie, so I had to make something up. Judging from the dress code of the IMF at that time, I guess it was probably also something dark or black, colorless, and probably not really Benji's choice of clothing.

Another thing I realized from this is that Benji in his pre-field agent days might be quite sensitive to the cold? In both of the IMF office scenes, he wore at least 4 layers and he kept his jacket on, in comparison Ethan only wears a light sweater while Luther is wearing a sweater and a jacket, no one else in the IMF seems to wear as much as Benji did:

It was probably just part of the character building, to have this kind of geeky-nerdy look? He doesn't seem to wear particularly more than others in the following series.

Anyway that's all of my ramblings for my fav looks in mi1-3! If you made it this far, thank you so much for reading, and looking forward to seeing you again maybe tomorrow ;)

Quick link to:

Ghost Protocol

Rouge Nation

Fallout

Dead Reckoning

The Final Reckoning

[heftyabyssofsweets]

Uh idk.......sumo wriothesley but so immobile he can't move any part of his body

i did draw something like this already, though i guess it isn’t technically sumo wriothesley

i mean, i guess he can still use his mouth…

[kroosluvr]

vending machine coffee

hi guys i did not move for 7 hrs until i finished this HELP MEEEEE (From the lineart+colors stage btw.... it basically took 7 hrs for rendering LKDSKJADKSAHD)

this is technically long winter au (royal trio r trapped together for longer than like 10 minutes) and this is.. i guess.. like a week in? to maruki's actualization. so theyre all very antsy and anxious (and sumire and goro havent reaaaalllyyy had many heart-to-hearts yet)

ANYWAY do u think abt the horror of being slam dunked into an ""ideal reality"" and not knowing what's real and what's fake and Most horrifically. getting used to the fake part

i like to think in long winter au they band together super close bc theyre tbh frightened of this reality, don't know wtf could happen if maruki could do This then he could do Anything right. so they walk all together like ducks in a line LMAOOO

akira feels disheartened at akechi's joke in page 1 - like yeah shit ur right. what's real and what's not. sumire distracts them by buying coffee

akira covers akechi's mouth bc he thinks hes gonna say some dumb shit (he wasn't)

(also for the record sumire hands the first coffee to goro and then the 2nd to akira then akira picks the last one up for her)

THE WAY AKIRA SMILES AT SUMIRE IM GONNA JUUUUUUUUUMP (i forgot to draw his bag strap there. fml. whatever)

woah the posters on the wall thats crazayyy is that the detective prince, the phantom thieves, and kasumi yoshizawa (tm)???? woahhhhh smile

akira grimaces at akechi's ""advice"" bc he Knows how real it is. He knows how haunted goro is by 1) his mother's death. 2) his murders. 3) the death of his Child self and his dreams of being a "hero of justice." sumire obviously doesn't know all this baggage so she just takes it at face-value like "yeah ur right senpai now that i think abt it!" but it really weighs heavily on akira and goro realizes that in the last page. so hes like. shit. well. ermmm. awkward lets get outta here

i like the colors on the last page eheh

ok time for me to eat something im feel like im dying.

[mrsjjongstby]

ONLY YOURS TO CATCH - N.RK

~ HIS FAVOURITE DETECTIVE

PART 1: BAITED AND BOUND

Pairing: Obsessed serial killer!riki x Detective!fem!reader

Genre: Dark romance.

Synopsis: You, a detective who has always solved her cases with ease — until he appeared. A string of murders, all more twisted and challenging than the last, draws you deeper into a deadly game crafted just for you. As the lines blur between hunter and hunted, you realizes you're not just chasing a killer — you're the prize he’s been chasing all along. In a city full of noise, he made sure only you heard him.

Warnings: Killing, blood, knives, jealousy, obsession, stalking behaviour, violence, mentions of murder, mentions of pregnancy(not related with the female lead), toxic dynamics, dark themes, cursing, jail/ prisoner setting, mentions of poison (cyanide), etc (let me know if i missed any!)

Word Count: 2,962

| Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Some traps aren't meant to catch you. They're meant to keep you."

You are good at your job, you really are. But recently the job has been feeling way too easy. Something is just not adding up. You are a very well-known pro-found detective- the one the departments brags about infront of press and in articles.

You knew you deserved the praise, the applause but now, as you are sitting before the 35-year-old man while tapping your pen against the metal table, you don't know if you deserve the “The detective who solved it all” title anymore. 

“I killed Yuri” the man- Jae states bluntly.

He continued, “Had an affair with her and got her pregnant and I didn't want Hana to know, I did warn Yuri though, told her to get abortion but she was stubborn she said she didn't want to kill a life who hadn't even developed into a baby. But I didn't want that- I didn't want her or the child. I did what I thought was best-”

“And that is to kill her?” You can’t stop yourself, gripping the pen tightly as you yell. 

Jae shrugged. “I did what I had to do.”

You don't understand why this is happening, why the past five cases you’ve been handled have been too easy to solve.

But one thing is for sure, you don't like it one bit.

You liked the critical thinking, assessment of the evidence and putting pieces together that come with the job.

But lately, the criminals are being found after you’ve only uncovered a few pieces of evidence.

Not that you aren't happy that the criminals are getting caught early but it's that it almost feels too unreal, too silly and too convenient for a criminal to be found with the first 3 clues.

Too absurd for the criminals to come out and confess- always with an underlying feeling and a strange tension you can’t quite place.

You look at him and ask, “So why are you confessing to me now when you tried to hide her body, hide the murder which you committed?”

Jae chuckles almost nervously “I guess I still have a thing for Yuri.”

You get up from your chair disgusted “Rot in jail bastard.”

With that, you leave the room with your mind full of thoughts and theories. And none of them make sense.  

Now, back in your office, you sat pondering about the past five cases. A knock on your door snapped you out of your thoughts.

Detective Jun-ha, your senior, stuck his head in.

“That’s the sixth case you’ve solved in the past two weeks Ms. The detective who solved it all, are you sure you didn't make a deal with the devil?” Jun-ha, though technically your senior, never acts like one.

He has seen you grow. He was there through your thick and thin and he’s one of the few people who truly support you and are genuinely happy for you.

You gave him a tired chuckle. “Maybe I’m the devil. Anyways, what brings you here my dear senior?”

"Nothing, just checking up on my favourite detective” he says as you roll your eyes playfully.

"I'm doing alright, thanks for checking up on me senior”

“Good to know. I'll take my leave then” he says with a grin as he exits, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Your smile fades as soon as the door shuts click.

This isn’t normal. It was like the justice system is on autopilot- making crime scenes easier and making criminals confess so that you have a perfect record. The nagging feeling in the back of your mind grows louder and louder. 

You know it. You feel it.  Someone is pulling strings...

A few days pass by. As you enter your office, the first thing you notice is a file placed neatly on your desk- an indicator that you got yourself a new case.

You walk over and flip it open.

There it is. 

Nishimura Riki.

The most wanted serial killer in the city. 

You aren't even surprised anymore. You’ve said the name often, seen it written across countless headlines, articles, reports, evidence sheets- it might as well be imprinted in your brain by now.

You get his cases often, it's like clockwork. Once in every three cases which took you no time to solve and are practically solved by themselves, his case awaits on your table.

A new one every time, only on your desk like the case only wants to be solved by you and no one else. 

His cases are different, they make you work, really work. 

They demand your attention, challenge your logic and wake up the parts of your brain which have been rusted due to the regular cases.   Riki’s trail is cold.

His victims are killed unusually, are scattered, his patterns are confusing and if you are being honest to yourself, the only common piece in his puzzles is, you.

All of his cases only ever come to you and with each murder of his, it's like the universe is leaving his case for you to actually solve.

And beneath the pressure and fear, you almost feel relief because for once, you aren't being handed the answer. You are chasing it  

As you are about to dig through the file, you get a call. The sound cuts through the silence like a blade.

“Ms.Y/n? We found a body. Linked to Nishimura. You are needed on-site. Now.”

You are already grabbing your coat, your mind preparing what to expect from him.

The alleyway is damp, cold and silent, completely as if its untouched by the chaos of the city around it. The streetlights flick, casting that glow on the body surrounded by rainwater.

You duck under the yellow tape. The officers nod at you, their faces pale. You nod back at them and look at her.

Female, early thirties. Clean, untouched except for the severe wound on her head. She has been posed. Elegantly, like someone took their time- as if it wasn't a murder but a performance.

What caught your eye was the folded piece of paper in her hand. You kneel and gently take the paper with gloved hands. You freeze as you open it.  

It was a page torn from a novel- not just any novel- your favourite novel. The one that you mentioned briefly in an interview a year or two ago. No one ever bought it up again.   The highlighted sentence, which was underlined by read ink reads,  

“The hunter always smiles when the prey finally notices the traps.”  

Your stomach twists. Because you know- this isn't just a message- it's an acknowledgement. 

Acknowledgement that he’s watching you- not just your work but you.

And you don't know how to feel about that.  

After inspecting the place, collecting evidence and talking to the nearby people you return to your office.

You walked into your office, but something was wrong. You locked your door- you were sure of it.

Yet there it is. On your chair. A plain black envelope. You quickly closed the door as you tear open the wax seal.  

Jae was wasting your time.   I handled it, you're welcome.  You shouldn't have to clean their messes.  You are meant for something greater- for me  Tune out the voice, love. I'm the only sound worth hearing.  Think smart, Detective This game is ours   - Your R 

You sit down slowly, the wait of the message heavy on your chest  And you feel it- he's taking control of everything around you.

Watching your every move.

Eliminating every distraction.  

For what?

For you.

You begin to notice the small things first.

The coffee on your desk, still hot and made the way you like it, even though no one was in the office when you arrived. 

Your favourite pen- the one with the broken cap with no ink left- replaced by a new one.

Same colour. Same brand.

A hair tie on your desk whenever you chose to leave your hair loose.

Always made your skin crawl and made you look around you to see if someone was watching you. 

Your instincts tell you to file a report, but something stops you.

You're a detective- why would you need another detective to help you?

That's what you told yourself.  

This felt like more than surveillance. It felt like intimacy 

Riki isn't just watching you work. He somehow made his way into your routine... Inside your life. 

And the worst part?

You don't tell anyone- Why?

Because you are scared you'll be mistaken for paranoid rather than being right. 

And that’s why you haven't been yourself lately.

You are always thinking. Something or the other runs through your mind 24/7. You haven't been able to sleep properly, fear clinging to you at night- the fear of being watched which caused you to not be energetic and more "alive-looking" in the morning.

And maybe that's the reason why you were seated across from Jun-ha after work hours in a café.  

"Ok. C'mon y/n, what's going on with you?" Jun-ha asks unable to comprehend why you have been like this for the past week or so.  

You chuckle awkwardly, "What do you mean, I'm doing just fine".

Jun-ha gives you a "Are you really fucking with me right now" look and says, "You know what I'm talking about, you look like a panda with your eye bags, you are always zoning out and you just look paranoid all the time." 

There it is.

Exactly what you feared- people thinking you’re paranoid, when in reality, you are right. Someone Riki is watching you. 

You don't want other people to perceive you as paranoid or delusional. So, you dismiss his worries and not-so-wrong accusations and say, "I'm just tired of dealing with his cases"

Jun-ha looks at you sympathetically, knowing who him means, "Ah I get it, his cases are so time consuming and hard- I wonder how you do it. Just be careful"  

You nod at that as you drink your latte, the bitter taste staying in your throat.

After a few days, an autopsy report lands on your desk.

Victim: Male, age 27 Time of death: Between 2am-4am Cause of death: Cardiac arrest (supposedly). 

You stare at the report, unease setting in your gut.

Something was wrong.

You visit the alleyway where the body had been found. The place covered with yellow "crime zone do not enter" tape and surrounded by multiple professionals.

You greet them briskly and make your way towards the scene. But you don't look at the body. No- you look around it. 

Your eyes catch a half-opened water bottle lying a few feet away holding a small amount of liquid.

With gloved hands, and after confirming with the forensic team, you carefully pick it up and bring it closer.

You unscrew the cap and take a cautious sniff.  

Minerals.

Sharp.

A chemical aftertaste that shouldn't be there.

Poison.

You sent it to the lab for testing- and the results came back quickly.

Confirmed.

Cyanide.

Cyanide- the silent killer. Efficient. Fast. And almost undetectable in standard reports, making it every seasoned criminal’s best friend and making it easier for them to get away with it.

But not on your watch.

Determined, you proceed to your next lead: Lee Haneul, the victim's girlfriend.

She's devasted when you met her- blood red eyes, trembling hands- but she’s cooperative.

"He left around midnight” she sniffles, “said he needed some air to clear his mind. He took his phone, headphones and his wallet"  

You nod, scribbling your notes, "Before this... did he mention anything strange? Anything bothering him? Weird behaviour?” 

She hesitates, then murmurs, "He... he said he'd been getting these creepy messages. Anonymous ones. He brushed them off — thought it was just one of his crazy stalker fans. He posted singing covers online... had a following."  

You thank her gently, offer your condolences, and leave, mind already racing.

Back at your office, you immediately request access to the victim’s phone — the password provided willingly by Haneul. 

You get his phone, and you extract the texts- there it is.

The last message received before his death: "Want to hear a song that ends with your last breath?"

You feel your skin crawl. 

You run the sender’s IP number.

It's a burner. Obviously.

But you trace its last activity, a ping from a local library. You head to the nearby library and review the footage along with your team.

There. A hooded figure. Tall. Black hoodie. Walked out at 1:47 AM.

You zoom in.

A janitor’s badge clipped to his chest. You track him down with the help of the authorities.

His name: Park Minjae.

Minjae is pale as a ghost under the harsh lights of the interrogation room  

"I-I didn't kill him!” he stammers, wide-eyed.

“I swear, I just saw someone dragging something in the alleyway, I got scared- so I hid" 

You lean forward, "Why didn't you call the cops?"  

He swallows thickly. "Because... because he saw me. He looked me dead in the eyes and then he smiled. Like he knew I'd keep quiet" 

You narrow your gaze.

“And this message.” You ask, showing him the threatening text.  

He widens his eyes and shakes his head frantically. "No! My phone broke a few days ago. I got it repaired but afterward, it started acting weird — random messages being sent, glitches everywhere. Turns out... it got hacked."   

He's telling the truth. You know it in your gut.

"Do you remember his face?" You ask quietly. 

"Uh y-yeah I do"  

You nod and show him a photo- Nishimura Riki mug shot. 

Recognition flashes instantly across Minjae's face.  "That's him! That’s the guy!" 

Which means...

Riki left a witness.

That's sloppy. Thats not like him- at all. 

Was it just a mistake? Or was it something else?

You began thinking- thinking of anything that could help your case move forward. 

And then it clicked. 

Cyanide.

There are only two registered mineral industries in the city who had legal authority over cyanide.

You immediately dispatch teams to both. 

One industry reports a suspicious transaction a week prior — security footage confirms it: a man matching Riki’s build, wearing a mask. 

Under pressure, the supplier, Lee Seo-Jun, folds quickly under interrogation. 

And when he does, he gives up an address. 

Registered under the name Kang Tae-jin- A name connected to exactly nothing.

A perfect ghost.

Until now. 

Your team gears up and storms the listed property — a sleek, modern house nestled in the city's quieter outskirts. 

Guns raised, shouting orders, you breach the door. 

And there he is. 

Nishimura Riki.

You visit the jail’s visiting room. It's quiet. Unsettling. 

He’s already there.

Handcuffed, relaxed, sitting like he owns the room.

His eyes lift the moment you walk in. 

And for the first time, you look him in the eye. 

Not through photographs. Not across crime scenes.

Here, In person. 

“Y/N,” he murmurs. “Finally.” voice soft—softer than you imagined, almost delicate. 

"You're earlier than I expected," he says, tone almost... proud. Proud of you- your skills.

His eyes glint.  “Though I didn’t want you to find me yet,” he says softly. 

He shakes his head, “You were beautiful out there,” he says even softer. 

The silence thickens, pressing up against the walls. 

You finally break it.  “Why? Why all of this? Why the murders, the notes, the chase?” 

He leans in, and for the first time, the smile drops. 

“Because you weren’t supposed to waste yourself on simple men and simpler crimes. They don’t deserve your mind. I do.”

You feel your stomach twist. “You killed them to get my attention?” 

“No. I killed them to clear your schedule.” 

“Riki—” 

“No,” he interrupts, voice rising just a little. “You were drifting. Getting tired. Losing yourself in noise. I fixed that.” His gaze pins you on the spot. 

“You’re here. With me. And don’t tell me it’s because of the law.” He tilts his head slightly, smile inching back. 

“Because we both know—you wanted this too.” 

You stare at him, heart hammering. Unsure if the chill running down your spine is fear… or something else.  

He leans back, eyes still on you.

"I told you this is our story, baby"

You don't know what makes you stand up- rage or disgust or the terrifying part of you that understands him a little too well. 

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor.  Riki’s eyes follow your movement lazily, like a wolf watching its prey. 

You want to leave.  You should leave.  But you don’t. 

Instead, you lean closer.  Hands flat on the cold table separating you from him. 

"You're sick," you whisper. 

His smile grows, slow and poisonous.

"I'm devoted," he corrects, voice warm like he’s confessing love — not murder. 

You clench your fists, trying to steady your breathing. 

"You destroyed lives. Families. You ruined people just to get to me Riki"

Riki tilts his head, handcuffs clinking softly with the movement. 

"Ruined?" he echoes. 

"I think of it more like... rearranging the world around you.” 

You open your mouth — 

but he leans in so fast, so close, you freeze. 

Only inches between you and him now. 

And when he speaks again, his voice is barely a breath: 

"You feel it too, don't you?" 

His eyes are searching yours, merciless. 

"The world makes sense when you're with me." 

Your throat tightens. 

You can't move. 

Can't think. 

His next words are quieter than a whisper — a blade against your skin: 

"You were always mine to catch, Detective."

The guard bangs on the door, warning that visiting time is over. 

You step back, almost stumbling, heart hammering against your ribs.

Riki watches you go, a soft smile curling at his lips — 

as if the real game has only just begun. 

The door slams between you, but you swear you still feel his gaze. 

Watching.  Waiting.  Smiling...

PART TWO YET TO COME... | Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

©mrsjjongstby all writing belong to me. do not copy, modify or repost my works.

A/n: Hey guys! Writing is not my thing so sorry if it wasnt up to your expectations! And let me know if you guys want to be added in the taglist! Part two is in the making so stay tuned! Hope you guys like it! I literally was literally a second away from ripping my hair off due to exhaustion. Anyways! This is officially one of the longest fic ive ever wrote....... PLease show alot of love! ALSO THE DIVIDERS R FROM THE VERY TALENTED : @uzmacchiato @enchanthings @kodaswrld THANKS GUYS!!!!!!! ENJOY!

[wolfsocks61]

cinderella colt

open image for better quality :) more info+transcription below!

btw I will cry actual tears of joy if u draw these designs, just please credit if you do ❤️ feel free to @ me or dm me I would love to see omg

BUDDY:

- He's a batpony which isn't TECHNICALLY a vampire. Chase verdict: doesn't count.

- All the keys are breezies in their humanoid (equinoid?) form. However, he was originally a Pegasus.

- Hides flank; has no cutie mark. He did not earn his cutie mark when he was a regular Pegasus, so he doesn't have it at all yet.

- Though his batpony wings are strong and dexterous, as a breezy his wings are very delicate. He takes the opportunity in books to use his stronger wings and often flutters around instead of trotting. Also note that breezy magic is activated by a breeze, so without it, they can’t fly!

- Chase just assumes he hides his cutie mark to hide his identity.

CHASE:

- He is a Pegasus, but his wings are smaller than average. He CANNOT fly, only hover/flutter off and onto the ground.

- Chase got his cutie mark at a younger than average age. Though with having it so long, he sometimes questions what it means to him.

- Although he can’t fly, he uses his wings all the time - he uses them to express or stress a point, basically talking with his hands except it’s with wings.

- Gets mad at Deacon because his horn is cheating with height (he is still just taller without it anyhow…)

DEACON:

- A Unicorn with a talent in magic - however, he is part KIRIN/NIRIK. When he experiences intense emotions, specifically rage, he transforms into a NIRIK. He is still learning to control this form for fear of causing destruction with it - though perhaps what he really needs is to just let it out.

- He has a kirin like tail, more feather than his other relatives, and cloven hooves (though they aren't fully separate toes).

- His family, and sometimes Deacon himself, wilfully misunderstand his cutie mark as representing a studious nature. In truth is it representative of "writing one's own story".

- His magic is blue (same as his eyes, maybe a bit lighter). It can be purple/red when he is stressed as a precursor to his Nirik form.

PRUNELLA:

- A Blankflank, yet to get her cutie mark. She is an Earth pony, as well as her mother, but is rather agile despite that.

I’ll probably draw more of these guys so keep an eye out.

OTHER: I guess Deacon has an obsession with humans instead of horses. It's a mysteryyyy, anthropologyyyyy…..

[yuurei20]

Hints in the game about characters' personal fashion: Cater ⚠️(Yasamina Silk Cater groovy below)

Summary: ・Owns multiple brand-name accessories ・Likes bright colors because they cheer you up ・Is possibly not a fan of pink or cute things for himself

Jamil observes that Cater seems to be a fan of brand names (or maybe of one brand in particular), with a phone case and bag that are both from the same brand, “which says to me that you accept no substitutes when it comes to your stuff.”

Cater tries on a scarf during the Firelit Sky event that Jamil describes as “VERY yellow.” He commends on Cater going for bold colors and Cater says, “I’m a big fan of bright colors. Just looking at them cheers you up, y’know?”

Jamil is less enthused by the yellow scarf and so Cater tries on a black and white one, instead. Cater seems awkward when Jamil recommends a “cutesy salmon pink” scarf, saying, “It’s not really a color I usually go for…” but he has read that peach tones are the next big fashion trend, so Cater might adapt his wardrobe to new trends as they arise.

It is possible that Cater was uncomfortable about a “cutesy” scarf because of his sisters: he explains that, growing up, every birthday present he received “was 100% THEIR aesthetic. Cute stuff galore, and nothing but! Plushies, dolls, perfume, soap…nothing that was even on-brand for me,” so he does not seem to consider “cute” things to be a part of his brand.

Cuteness seems to be a part of Cater whether he likes it or not, however: he accidentally creates “an ultra-pink mandrake with big, round eyes” during a class with Crewel.

Lilia says, “I never knew your tastes trended so feminine, Cater,” and Cater insists that he doe not actually have such “feminine” tastes at all, but because of his sisters:

“In the Diamond household, everything’s judged by one simple question: ‘But is it cute?’ Day in and day out, no matter what I did, if it wasn’t cute, it didn’t cut the mustard! Drawings, handicrafts, store-bought sweets, you name it! So I guess l’ve got ‘make it cute’ burned into my brain as a first instinct.”

While cuteness may be a part of his instincts (and his sisters insisting on everything be cute would explain why he uses the word “cute” so often in his dialogue, as he possibly grew up hearing it so often that it became a verbal tic), it may not be a part of his personal fashion choices.

Jamil explains that he thought the salmon pink scarf suited Cater’s “friendly,” “easy to get along with” personality and “gentle vibe” which results in Cater buying the scarf, but we do not technically know if he has ever worn it anywhere.

Cater says he feels great wearing his Yasamina Silk ensemble and he likes the bells on the belt, but this may not be a reflection of what he usually wears day-to-day outside of school.

He seems to like the “chunky boots” of his New Year’s outfit, saying that he is “big into flashy looks,” so his personal wardrobe may incorporate things like bold colors (re: the yellow scarf) and “flashier” pieces? 

Cater says, “nothing like a flashy fit to bring the hype” about his Firelit Sky outfit and that he likes the belt that comes with his Playfulland clothing, but also says that he likes the laces of his Halloween look: “It gives the whole outfit a real mature flair, unlike our usual dorm uniforms.”

This might not be saying much about his personal fashion choices, as Playfulland and Halloween were costumes.

Is he fond of the Halloween outfits just because they are different from what he normally has to wear, or does he enjoy more mature looks in general? It is maybe not clear.

[littlemonstrosityy]

𝑨𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕, 𝑨𝒍𝒘𝒂𝒚𝒔 (Casey Novak x Reader)

casey novak x female reader slow burn, angst, emotional hurt/comfort, eventual smut word count: 2k this is my first fic! there are more chapters that i'll upload soon <3

She's careful, you're reckless, and it's all starting to show. A slow burn full of late nights, quiet tension, and feelings no one wants to admit to until it’s all too much to ignore. Read on AO3

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑶𝒏𝒆 - 𝑨𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝑭𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔

Casey’s office always ran a little warmer than the rest of the building. You’d blamed the old radiator under the window the first time, but now you weren’t so sure. Maybe it was just her.

Late afternoon light stretched long across the carpet, muted and soft against the fading sky. Most people had gone home. The halls were quiet. Casey sat behind her desk, legs crossed, fingers typing at a steady rhythm as she scrolled through a report, jaw tight in concentration.

You were on the couch, technically her couch, sprawled out in your usual spot, laptop balanced on your thighs, shoes kicked off somewhere near the filing cabinet. The lid of the food you ordered had long since been taken off.

You typed something, stopped. Typed again. Stopped.

Then looked up at her. “You know,” you said casually, “this would go a lot faster if you came over here and helped me think through it.”

Casey didn’t look up. “I am helping. From over here. Silently.”

You huffed, shutting your laptop halfway. “Come on. I’ve been sitting here alone for an hour while you’ve been pretending I don’t exist.”

“I’m not pretending.”

“Right.” You leaned your head back against the arm of the couch and looked at her upside down. “You just like to work while I suffer in your presence.”

That made her glance up briefly. Her eyes flicked to your exposed neck. The way your throat stretched, collarbones catching the gold light, caught her attention. Her mouth opened like she might say something, but then she blinked and looked back down at her screen.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, drawing it out just enough to be theatrical. “Guess I’ll just sit here looking hot and underappreciated.”

She exhaled sharply, almost laughing, and stood.

You lifted your head just enough to watch her cross the room. The movement alone did something to your pulse. Her slacks, with the top button of her blouse that was never done up. She was casual in a way that made your mouth go dry.

She didn’t sit right beside you. Not at first. She sat at the opposite end of the couch, legs crossed again, hand slowly smoothing out her slacks.

“Better?” she asked, not looking at you.

You shifted toward her just slightly, pretending to stretch. Your bare foot brushed her calf. Just enough to feel her tense.

“Much.”

As her eyes darted to you, you could practically feel the brief, wide, and unreadable expression in them. Her eyes dropped to your mouth before flicking away again.

You smiled slowly. “You’re blushing, Novak.”

“I’m not.”

You tilted your head, voice soft. “You know I like it when you lie to me.”

Her jaw clenched. She said nothing. But she didn’t move away either. Casey didn’t rise to the bait, just picked up the folder resting on the coffee table and flipped it open, the corner of her mouth twitching like she was suppressing a smile.

“You still want help, or are you too busy complimenting yourself?”

You grinned, adjusting your laptop and nudging her knee lightly with yours. “What can I say? I’m an expert at multitasking.”

She rolled her eyes and leaned forward, skimming the first page of the case file. You watched her for a second, admiring how her hair fell over her shoulder when she tipped her head, how her brows furrowed when she focused.

“I still don’t think we should call that witness,” she said, flipping to the second page. “She contradicts herself three times in the same paragraph. She’s a mess.”

“She’s a psychic,” you offered with a small smile. “It’s part of her charm.”

Casey looked at you, deadpan. “She said the dog told her the murder weapon was buried under a full moon.”

“And?”

“She also said the dog was reincarnated from a Civil War general.”

You snorted. “Well. He was a very assertive little guy.”

That earned you a small laugh, one of those soft, unguarded ones you never took for granted. You smiled down at your laptop, heart warm. This was the part of her you liked the most. The dry, brilliant Casey Novak, who let you into her little world piece by piece.

You didn’t need the flirtation, not really; she was intoxicating enough. It was moments like this that always hit harder.

Casey leaned back, rubbing her temple. “Honestly, I think we can work around it. Go heavier on the medical examiner and loop back to the security footage. She’s entertaining, but she’ll wreck it for us.”

You nodded, typing a note into your draft. “See, this is why I need you on my couch. You’re the brains, I’m the charm.”

“Oh, so this is your couch now? And that’s how we divide the labour, is it?”

“Yes and yes.” You smirked, eyes flicking to hers. “You know what they say about pretty faces and cold hearts.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Which one am I?”

“Depends on the day,” you said lightly. “Today, I’d say you’re both. But in a really hot way.”

Her lips parted for a second like she might say something, but nothing came out. This happened frequently to Casey, often at a loss for words around you. She looked down at the folder again, a small, unreadable sound left her throat.

You didn’t push. Not yet.

After a while, the silence between you settled into something companionable. The soft hum of your laptop, the occasional rustle of paper from her side of the couch, the distant city noise outside the window. All the white noise blended into the quiet kind of intimacy that had become strangely normal.

You were halfway through typing a section on cross-examination when your shoulders tensed with the stiffness of having been in the same position too long. You stretched, arching your back slightly, arms over your head until your spine popped in two satisfying cracks.

Casey looked up. She didn’t say anything, but you felt her eyes linger for a second too long. You caught her gaze mid-stretch, her brows raised slightly.

“What?” you asked, lips quirking.

“Nothing,” she said, voice dry. “Just watching you work through all your personal drama on my couch.”

“My couch, remember?” you said, swinging your legs off the cushions and standing. “Want anything from the break room? I need water before I dry out completely.”

She waved you off without looking up. “I’m fine. Go hydrate.”

You padded out into the hallway, rubbing your neck as you went. It was strange, how normal it was, the late hours, Casey’s voice in the quiet, the small jokes. You hadn’t even thought twice about kicking off your shoes in her office. You hadn’t even realised how close you’d gotten until it started to feel like this.

When you returned a few minutes later, bottle of water in hand, Casey had put down the file and was leaning back into the couch, head tilted slightly toward the ceiling. Her eyes were closed.

“You dying?” You asked softly.

She opened one eye. “Just resting my brain before it breaks.”

You smiled and dropped back into your spot beside her, offering the bottle. She took it without hesitation, her fingers brushing yours.

“Thanks,” she said.

“No problem, Novak.”

She took a drink, then turned a little to face you more directly. “You know,” she said, “you’re not bad company when you’re not talking.”

You scoffed. “You say the sweetest things.”

She gave you a look she doesn’t often give, teasing and almost warm. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

You blinked. That was… weirdly friendly. Not sharp. Not sarcastic. Just easy.

“Are you okay?” you asked, tone light but curious. “You’re almost being nice to me.”

Casey looked at you, mouth twitching at the corners. “Don’t get used to it. It’s just the exhaustion.”

Still, she didn’t turn away.

You watched her, your voice soft. “I think I like it when you’re like this.”

She shook her head but didn’t deny anything, both of you drifting back into a lull. The comfortable quiet that comes after long days and shared work had been building without either of you admitting the closeness between you. Casey skimmed the last few pages of the file, her eyes moving slower now, more tired than focused. You’d opened your laptop again, but the words on the screen had started to blur.

At some point, you yawned a little wider than you wanted to.

Casey looked over at you. “You should go home.”

You shook your head, adjusting your posture and trying to wake yourself up. “I just need ten more minutes. I’m almost done.”

Casey didn’t say anything. Just watched you.

You felt it more than saw it, the way she looked at you like that. And when you looked up, she quickly shifted her attention back to the papers in her hand.

Then, without saying a word, she reached behind her and tugged the folded blanket off the back of the couch. The one she kept for herself when she worked late, and the heating cut out. She shook it out with one hand and passed it toward you.

“You’re freezing,” she said, not looking at you.

You were a little. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way she gave it to you in that quiet, awkward, almost shy way.

You took it, letting it fall over your lap as your heart thudded softly behind your ribs. “Thanks.”

She didn’t respond. Just sat there, suddenly stiff again like she’d given away too much. You pulled the blanket higher and sank back into the cushions, the edge of your leg just barely touching hers. She didn’t move.

Eventually, you closed your laptop and exhaled. “Alright. I’m cooked.”

Casey stood, smoothing creases in her blouse as you stretched again and gathered your things. You turned toward her, tucking your laptop under your arm.

“Thanks for letting me hijack your space,” you said. “Again.”

She looked at you, eyes softer now. “You don’t hijack it. You just… show up.”

There was a beat between you. Something unspoken flickers in the air.

“Yeah,” you said, voice quieter now. “Well. Thanks for letting me.”

She nodded. Not smiling. But not cold either. Just… present.

You stepped toward the door, pausing with your hand on the handle. “Night, Novak.”

“Night.”

You turned, but before you opened the door, you heard her voice, low and a little rough.

“Text me when you get home.”

You froze for a second, then glanced back over your shoulder.

A smile tugged at your mouth. “Okay.”

You slipped out into the hallway, the warmth of the blanket still clinging to your skin. The door clicked shut behind you, and the office fell back into silence.

Casey stood there for a moment, staring at the door like it might open again. Like you might come back in and say another joke, another effortless comment that would make her feel everything she desperately tried not to.

But it stayed closed.

She exhaled slowly, rubbing her hand over her face. The couch still held the warmth of where you’d been, the blanket now folded neatly beside it as you tried not to overstep. Like you were always trying not to take up too much space, even when you were the only one who made hers feel bearable.

She crossed back to her desk, meaning to sit, meaning to keep working. But instead, she just stood there, staring down at the files, her mind already lost. It had been getting harder to stay neutral. Harder to pretend that your presence wasn’t doing something to her. And now it kept getting worse. Your comfort, your kindness, your ease. You were in her space like you belonged there, like you always meant to be there.

Casey sat back in her chair and stared at the text thread open on her phone. Your last message was a week old, something dumb and familiar she hadn’t replied to. Now it sat there like a bruise, feeling different that she hadn't acknowledged it. She’d asked you to text when you got home. She told herself it was just habit, just a precaution, just something she would’ve said to anyone.

But the ache in her chest said otherwise.

She didn’t move for a long time. Just sat there, listening to the quiet hum of the radiator, trying not to think about the fact that she missed you already.

[ephemeralp1eces]

You Don’t Have to Choose if No One Makes You - Part XIV

Summary: You’re usually behind the scenes, amused, and relieved you aren’t in front of the camera during media filming days. Karma must be out to get you though, because this week the boys have to film a video with one of the crew members, and, against all odds - that crew member is you.

What to know: Lando x reader, Oscar x reader, light fluffy fun (lol), a filler episode if you will

wc; 6,500

Part I | Part II | Part III | Part IV | Part V | Part VI | Part VII | Part VIII | Part IX | Part X | Part XI | Part XII | Part XIII

It started with Charlotte, our social media manager, which meant it was going to be trouble.

“Hey,” she said, appearing out of nowhere like she always did when we were just relaxing. “I need you for a media shoot.”

I looked up from my laptop, skeptical. “Me?”

“Yeah. It’s random draw this weekend. Zak wanted to highlight some behind-the-scenes staff for the fan content rotation.”

Lando, lounging nearby with a packet of crisps, grinned. “You’ve been summoned.”

Oscar, not looking up from his phone, added, “It’s about time someone else gets dragged into these things.”

Charlotte waved a card. “It’s a ‘Who Knows Them Better?’ challenge. You’ll be the ‘mystery crew member.’ The fans’ll love it, seeing how well the drivers really know the people around them.”

Lando nudged Oscar. “You’re going down.”

Oscar deadpanned, “You still think I don’t know your coffee order.”

Charlotte continued. “You two are competing. She asks the questions. You write your guesses. Winner gets a prize. Loser gets a forfeit.”

“What’s the forfeit?” Lando asked.

Charlotte grinned too wide.

“…It’s going to be bad, isn’t it,” I muttered.

—

They set us up on the lawn behind the McLaren hospitality tent.

Three chairs. Two whiteboards. One crew member (me), now regretting her entire morning.

The rules were simple: I’d ask ten personal questions (basic stuff) and Lando and Oscar would each write their guesses. Most correct answers wins. The loser drinks a concoction the interns called “The Surprise Smoothie,” which smelled vaguely of mango, brine, and regret.

“What if I lose?” I asked.

Charlotte shrugged. “Then you get your dignity shredded on social media.”

“Excellent.”

Lando clapped once. “Let’s go.”

—

ROUND 1: What’s my go-to paddock breakfast?

Lando: Those weird overnight oats in the black container.

Oscar: Scrambled eggs and coffee.

Me: “Oscar’s right.”

Lando: “You literally had oats this morning!”

Me: “Because you made me try them.”

Oscar: “One-nil.”

—

ROUND 3: What’s my job title?

Lando: Trackside operations support

Oscar: Logistics manager?

Me: “Technically, Lando’s closer. Media strategy and team scheduling.”

Oscar: “It’s literally on your badge.”

Lando: “You’ve seen her badge?”

Oscar: “She gave me a lanyard once.”

Me: “Let’s stay focused.”

—

ROUND 5: Favorite driver growing up?

Oscar: Mark Webber

Lando: Alonso

Me: “Trick question. It was Jenson Button.”

Oscar: “British bias.”

Lando: “I should have known.”

—

ROUND 7: What’s the dumbest thing you’ve seen me do in the garage?

Oscar: Trip over a tyre and pretend it didn’t happen.

Lando: Walk into the halo bar. Twice.

Me: “They’re both true.”

Charlotte, off-camera: “That was the same day.”

Oscar: “Double points?”

—

ROUND 10: If I wasn’t working in F1, what would I be doing?

Oscar: Running something. Probably bossing someone around.

Lando: Project manager for some mysterious, intense operation. Possibly MI6.

Me: “Honestly? Equal points. Both scarily accurate.”

—

The final tally was 6-6. A draw.

Which meant both drivers had to drink The Smoothie.

Oscar sniffed his and grimaced. “Is that… celery?”

Lando took one sip, gagged, and doubled over laughing. “That’s cruel.”

“You bet your media points for this,” I reminded him.

“I have regrets,” he choked.

—

After the shoot, the three of us hung back on the grass, the camera team packing up around us.

“That was actually fun,” Oscar admitted, tossing his whiteboard into a pile.

“I’ll remember this when you’re forced to do a TikTok dance next time,” I said.

Lando flopped onto his back, hands behind his head. “You’re weirdly hard to read, you know.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“You have all these routines, but then you’ll randomly organize a team dinner, or sneak snacks into the sim bay, or give out headache meds like you’re running a black-market pharmacy.”

Oscar added, “You’re basically the glue.”

“That’s not my job description,” I said, smiling.

“It’s your unofficial title,” Lando said, eyes closed, sunglasses slipping off his nose. “Head of keeping us functioning.”

Oscar nudged him. “That smoothie didn’t help your brain cells, did it?”

Lando sighed dramatically. “It hurts me.”

—

It was moments like today that made me realize how lucky I was. How fun it could be, just the three of us, hanging out and doing the most random things. Even if it was for a forced social media shoot, I still enjoyed it.

It gave me such a good feeling, warm, content. And yet fear lingered somewhere underneath. Fear that something might change.

All I could do was pray it never did.