#Site of Witness and Memory

[jontycrane]

Shkoder

My second visit this lovely city, Shkoder may not have many big sights but is a very pleasant place to wander around. After a couple of weeks exploring Croatia and Montenegro it felt much more like a living city than a tourist attraction. The Cathedral of St Stephen was almost empty other than a tour group that I later ran into again at Ebu Beker mosque. It has had an eventful history, being…

[windor-truffle]

if I had a nickel for every sidequest involving Sophie and the death of a child/childlike humanoid I'd have... wait 5 nickels?? jesus christ Sophie I'm so sorry 😟

[satellite-evans]

his person

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: you are lando’s person <3

Word count: 2.3k+

Warnings: fluff

A/N:

English is not my first language, so I apologize if I made any (grammar) mistakes. Feedback, requests, talks, vents, recommendations or just simple questions are always welcome.

Happy reading xxx

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site.

If you asked anyone — anyone who’d known Lando even half as well as the world thought it did — who his best friend was, the answer came easy, automatic, like muscle memory.

Max Fewtrell.

It was almost too obvious. They’d been inseparable since their karting days — the kind of friendship that was stitched together with inside jokes, shared playlists, matching scars from dumb teenage stunts, and years of standing side by side through wins and wipeouts. They were co-founders of Quadrant, partners in crime both on and off the track, the human embodiment of controlled chaos whenever a Twitch stream went live or an Instagram story popped up. If you ever bet on who knew Lando best — who could read him like a page out of his own life — your money was safe on Max.

But if you asked Lando — really asked him — his answer wouldn’t even take a breath.

“It’s her,” he’d say, soft but steady. Certain.

“It’s always her.”

You.

The girl who had known him before the podiums, before the fame, before the world chanted his name like a stadium-wide heartbeat. The one who saw through the swagger and the quick wit, the one who called him out when his ego got a little too comfortable, and who held him up when the weight of expectation became too much for one pair of shoulders to carry alone. His girlfriend, yes. But more than that. His person. His safe place. His best friend in every sense of the word.

And God, Lando could never seem to shut up about you.

It was an unspoken rule among his circle — one that started as eye-rolls and playful jabs but eventually softened into quiet acceptance. Your name had a habit of slipping into conversations without warning, as if his mind couldn't help but orbit around you even when you weren’t there. His engineers learned to expect it, Max would mock him with exaggerated groans, but none of it ever stopped him.

“Mate, we asked about tire strategy, not your girlfriend,” his race engineer would tease over the radio mid-practice, when his focus momentarily drifted.

And Lando, without missing a beat, would just laugh — the kind of laugh that sounded like pure ease, like home.

“Same thing, really,” he’d reply, grinning under the helmet. “She keeps me grounded. Technically part of the setup.”

On race weekends, it didn’t matter how chaotic the paddock got, how many fans called his name, or how tightly his schedule was packed. His eyes would always search the crowd — cutting through the noise, the flashing cameras, the blur of faces — until they landed on you. Like some unspoken radar tuned to a single frequency.

“There you are,” he’d mumble every single time, pulling you into his arms, cameras be damned. “Took me forever to find you.”

“You walked straight toward me, Lando,” you’d laugh against his chest, your voice the one sound that always, always managed to quiet his racing thoughts.

“Still felt too long,” he’d whisper, pressing his lips to your hair like that simple touch could steady the adrenaline still roaring through his veins.

You weren’t just the girl he loved. You were his favorite adventure. His co-op player. His partner in every messy, beautiful, unfiltered part of his life. Nights were spent tangled together on the couch, feet tucked under each other, controllers in hand, or phones abandoned on the table as you scrolled through old memes, trading soft jokes and lazy kisses. But the best part was always the silence. The ease of it. The kind of quiet that didn’t need filling, because being with you — just being — felt like the world had finally clicked into place.

And when the world outside got too loud — when the weight of expectation grew heavier than a leaden race suit, and headlines tried to script his story before he even had a chance to live it — it was always you he turned to.

“Do you think I’m doing enough?” he asked one night, voice quieter than the hum of the television, exhaustion settling deep into his bones after another long, hard-fought weekend. His head rested on your lap, and your fingers moved through his curls with slow, absent strokes — the kind that said I’m here, without needing the words.

“You’ve always been enough,” you answered, not even hesitating. “Wins don’t make you, Lando. You do.”

And something in his chest softened — like your words had reached places even his own self-belief couldn’t always touch. He looked up at you then, eyes warm, like he was trying to memorize the exact way you said it, the exact way it felt to be loved by you.

“See, this is why you’re my best friend.”

You smirked, playful but sincere. “Oh, I thought it was because I make better toast than Max.”

“That too,” he grinned, and it was the kind of grin that reached his eyes — the real one, the one that didn’t need cameras or podiums. “But mostly because you’re the only person who makes this whole crazy life make sense.”

And you always would.

Because even on the days when the world felt like it was spinning too fast, when the pressure of living under a microscope crept too close, you were there. Not with solutions or speeches — just you. Existing. Holding space for him the way only you could.

You brushed a strand of hair from his forehead, your fingers slow and familiar. “You know,” you murmured, “I don’t think anyone will ever understand you the way I do.”

“I don’t want anyone else to,” Lando replied, quiet but sure. “They’d get it all wrong.”

There was a pause, but the comfortable kind — the kind that wrapped around you both like a blanket, no need for more words. His hand found yours, thumb absentmindedly tracing circles against your skin, the rhythm steady, grounding.

“You’re stuck with me, you know,” you teased, squeezing his fingers gently. “For life.”

His lips quirked, soft and lopsided. “Good,” he whispered. “That’s exactly the plan.”

Race weekends always had a way of making that feeling even stronger — like the noise and the speed and the stakes only sharpened the way Lando looked at you, like the world could be spinning at 300 kilometers an hour and still, his attention would only ever settle on you.

You stood by the garage, tucked slightly out of the way, half-hidden behind a stack of equipment cases as the paddock moved around you in its usual, barely controlled frenzy. Journalists darted between interviews, chasing headlines with mics stretched out like fishing rods. Cameras tracked every flicker of expression on every driver’s face, lenses hungry for a story in a single glance. Engineers, crew members, mechanics — they weaved through the maze of people like clockwork, hands full of telemetry sheets and radios, their minds a million miles away, deep in calculations and split-second decisions.

And then, there was Lando.

The second his eyes found you through the blur of it all — the sponsors, the fans, the pre-race nerves knotted beneath his skin — everything else seemed to fall away. His entire posture shifted, tension melting from his shoulders as that unmistakable, boyish grin pulled at the corners of his mouth. The smile that wasn’t for the cameras, or the sponsors, or the sea of people waiting for autographs — the one that was just for you.

Like clockwork, he jogged toward you, cutting through the paddock like gravity had decided to rewrite the rules, yanking him toward the only place he ever really wanted to be.

“There’s my good luck charm,” he greeted, voice bright but edged with exhaustion and adrenaline — the kind that no amount of coffee or sleep could fully shake before a race. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your cheek, the contact lingering longer than it probably should have given the dozens of eyes watching, but Lando had never cared much about timing when it came to you.

“You should probably be focusing on the race,” you teased, fingers finding the zipper of his suit, giving it the lightest of tugs, grounding him even as the rest of the world tried to pull him in a hundred different directions.

“I am,” he replied, tilting his head slightly, those warm eyes locking onto yours like they always did. “You’re the best part of it.”

And the way he said it — soft, steady, without even a hint of his usual playful sarcasm — left no room for superstition or charm. Just the truth, plain and simple.

You reached up, brushing your fingers along the edge of his balaclava, adjusting it slightly before your thumb traced the sharp line of his jaw, a familiar and quiet ritual between the two of you — like you were handing him the last piece of calm before the chaos.

“Go win,” you murmured, your voice low but sure. “I’ll be right here.”

“You better be,” he said, stepping backward, reluctant but smiling, his eyes still drinking you in like he could store the moment away for later. His race engineer’s voice crackled over the comms, pulling him back to reality, but even as he turned to go, he glanced back — once, twice — like the distance between you was the only thing that ever felt wrong.

And when he finally climbed into the car, helmet on, gloves tightened, visor down — the world might have narrowed to tire temperatures and corner speeds, but you were still there. A fixed point. The face he’d always find, whether he crossed the finish line first or not.

Later that night, long after the champagne had dried on his race suit and the headlines had already written their version of the day, you and Lando found yourselves right where you always seemed to end up — curled up on the hotel balcony, wrapped up in a blanket you’d stolen from the foot of the bed, legs tangled together like the world didn’t exist beyond that little pocket of quiet.

The city stretched out below you, lights blinking lazily in the distance, but neither of you paid them much attention. His hand rested on your knee, your feet propped comfortably in his lap, his fingers absentmindedly tracing patterns along your ankle — like his body hadn’t quite figured out how to sit still, even if his mind finally had.

For a while, you both just sat there, letting the silence settle. It wasn’t awkward or heavy — just easy. The kind of quiet that only ever existed between two people who didn’t need words to fill the gaps.

But of course, Lando couldn’t resist breaking it.

“You know,” he said eventually, voice light but thoughtful, “it’s kinda ridiculous, isn’t it?”

You turned your head slightly, raising an eyebrow. “What is?”

He let out a soft, amused huff, like the thought had been bouncing around his head for hours. “I spend all day surrounded by thousands of people — cameras, fans, the whole circus — but the second I step out of the car, the only face I ever want to find is yours. Like some lovesick golden retriever.”

You snorted, nudging him with your elbow. “You? A golden retriever? Please. More like a raccoon hyped up on energy drinks.”

He laughed, head tipping back slightly, the sound warm and genuine. “Fair, but still. You’re basically my human GPS at this point. Doesn’t matter how big the crowd is, somehow I always spot you first.”

You tilted your head, playful but sincere. “Maybe I’ve just trained you well.”

“Oh, definitely. Pavlov would be proud.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Guess that makes two of us, though. I could be anywhere — grandstands, the grid, the middle of a fan mob — and my brain’s only ever tuned into you.”

He grinned at that, the kind of grin that was all soft cheeks and crinkled eyes, and for a second the teasing dropped away, leaving only something honest and quiet between you.

“God, look at us,” he said, nudging your shoulder with his. “Disgustingly sappy.”

“Max would be physically ill if he heard this conversation.”

“Max would disown me,” Lando agreed, lips quirking. “But he already knows I’m screwed when it comes to you. No point in pretending.”

You stretched your legs out, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You’ve been screwed since the moment I stole your fries that one time, haven’t you?”

He chuckled, shaking his head like the memory was still fresh. “That was the moment. I knew I was done for. Anyone who can steal the last fry and not feel guilty? Dangerous.”

You grinned, leaning your head back against his shoulder, your voice soft but full of playful affection. “And you let me do it anyway.”

“Let you?” he scoffed. “I offered. You just didn’t hear me over the sound of your victory.”

You both sat there for a second, wrapped up in that perfect kind of comfort that came from knowing — truly knowing — you belonged exactly where you were.

Then, without looking away from the view, you murmured, “You’re my person, you know.”

He glanced down at you, his hand finding yours under the blanket, fingers lacing through yours with a quiet certainty. “You’re mine too. Always have been.”

You turned your head, catching the soft, lopsided smile on his face — the one that always gave him away no matter how hard he tried to act cool. “I hope you know I’m keeping that in writing. You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good,” he said, pressing a kiss to your temple, his voice lower, softer now. “Because I wouldn’t know how to be me without you.”

You leaned into him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear, and let the moment stretch. No flashbulbs. No roaring engines. Just the two of you.

And it hit you all over again, the same simple truth that always seemed to sit quietly at the center of everything: You weren’t just his girlfriend. And he wasn’t just your boyfriend.

You were each other’s person. The constant in the chaos. The soft place to land. And the best part of every single day.

Always.

[vunblr]

Masterlist

Thanks for stopping by! Enjoy the journey through these stories as much as I enjoyed writing them.

The Weight of Choices (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot.

Summary: Torn between his instinct to protect his family and his desire to be a part of their lives, Bucky tries to deal with the reality of his ex-wife going on a date while he stays home caring for their son.

An Unfinished Goodbye (Slight Angst. Side-story of The Weight of Choices.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky tells himself he’s only watching over his ex-wife and son for their safety. But when someone threatens to alter the status quo, his quiet vigilance falters.

What If?... (Fluff. Smut) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky navigates his insecurities and guilt from his past as he grows closer to his new neighbor, a nurse.

The Memory Remains (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: An unexpected encounter brings Bucky face-to-face with someone from his past, stirring memories he thought were long buried.

Wounds and Walls (Slight angst. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky starts to walk into his new civilian life but struggles with his painful past, while slowly building a connection with someone who sees through his walls. As the relationship deepens, he must decide if he’s ready for something more, or if he’ll hide and push it all away.

Crumbs of Connection (Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: When Bucky wanders into a quirky late-night bakery, he doesn’t expect the warmhearted owner to challenge his defenses.

Spells and Fangs (World of Warcraft AU) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky, a grumpy worgen warrior, and his sharp-tongued mage partner are sent on a relatively simple quest that quickly spirals into chaos.

Roots and Branches (Fluff. Smut. Lumberjack AU)

Summary: Bucky has built a quiet life in the woods, content to keep the world at arm's length. But when a new neighbor moves to town, her presence ignites emotions he’s hesitant to face.

A Heart in Hiding (Angst-Hurt/Comfort) Oneshot

Summary: Caught between the shadows of his past and an unexpected connection, Bucky wrestles with his demons and his growing feelings for a new Avenger.

To Mend a Soldier (Slight angst. Comfort. Fluff.) Oneshot

Summary: Pressed by a worried Sam, Bucky reluctantly agrees to try an alternative -and, if you ask him, weird- therapy program: rent-a-mom. What starts as an obligation soon turns into something far more meaningful than he ever expected.

Toy Soldier (Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Smut) Ended.

Summary: She had been the tool Hydra used to keep him operational; he, the weapon manipulated by their tendrils to execute their ambitions. Years after breaking free, fate Sam Wilson brings them together once more. Now, they must navigate the challenges of forging a connection beyond the twisted dynamic that once bound them in the past.

The Broken Waltz (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.) Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Fifteen Minutes (Angst. Hurt. Sprinkles of comfort. Dark content.)

Toy Soldier's Side-story. Oneshot

Summary: Before freedom, before choice, there was only function. A tool and a weapon, bound in a dance orchestrated by Hydra’s cruel hands. The tool was meant to mend, the weapon to destroy. That night, the tool got to witness the weapon's other purposes.

The Price of Silence (Blue-collar Bucky) Ongoing

Summary: Porn with a little plot. Cynical and disenchanted with the world Bucky finds a job at a construction site after the blip. Tasked with retrieving lunch from a local bakery, he never expects to fall into a fuck-buddies situation with the clerk.

A Hand in the Dark (Angst. Hurt/Comfort.) Ongoing

Summary: In a brief moment of lucidity, Soldat makes a choice. And some choices echo across time, shaping the future in ways no one could predict.

Foundations (Slight Angst. Fluff) Ended

Summary: Bucky is doing his best to build a stable life for his newfound son, rescued from the guts of a Hydra facility. As he struggles with unexpected fatherhood and his own circumstances, he meets someone who slowly becomes part of their lives, establishing a connection he never saw coming.

Plump & Ripe (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: On a routine visit to the fruit shop, Bucky ends up with more than his usual goodies.

Lush (Fluff. Smut.) Oneshot

Summary: After Bucky is reminded by an offending shirt that his body isn't what it used to be, Sugarplum finds just the right way to get him out of his head.

Terms of Attraction (Fluff. Slight Comfort. Sexual Tension.) Oneshot

Summary: Long hours, sharp tongues, and unbreakable trust have defined Industrial Inputs CEO Bucky Barnes and his secretary’s dynamic, always walking a fine line. But some lines aren’t meant to be left uncrossed.

Tangled (Merman! Bucky. Fluff. Slight Angst. Teratophilia.) Ended

Summary: Between fear and fascination, a solitary creature struggles to protect his hidden world -and himself- after an unexpected encounter with a curious human woman makes him question everything he thought he knew about trust, danger, and boundaries.

Built to Last (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Bucky took up carpentry to keep himself busy, but didn't expect a hardware clerk to make him want more.

A Star Without a Sky (Slight Angst. Comfort. Fluff. Smut) Ongoing

Summary: A wounded Sheriff Barnes seeks shelter in a young widow’s home, and finds himself wrapped in a warmth he no longer believes he deserves, and longing for something he thought long buried.

Behind Closed Doors (Slight angst. Mommy Kink) Oneshot

Summary: Most days, Bucky is a functional, dependable, and even deadly man. Others, when the noise in his head gets too loud, behind closed doors, he becomes Jamie.

The Trouble With Saturdays (Fluff) Oneshot

Summary: Life at the Thunderbolts Tower is loud, chaotic, and full of questionable moral choices. Bucky’s used to keeping to himself, until one night, after one of those questionable moral choices was made, the guys got him high.

Spasibo (Smut) Oneshot

Summary: She offered kindness where there should’ve been fear. Now it haunts her in silence, starved for warmth it can’t forget.

EVENTS MASTERLISTS

AA Bucky's 108th birthday Bingo

AA Kinky Bingo

Chains of Fate (Fluff. Smut.) Destroyer!Chris. Oneshot

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Dividers by: @/cafekitsune

[musehyacinthus]

When our truth is burned from history

By those who figured justice in fond memory, witness me

Like fire weeping from a cedar tree

Know that my love would burn with me

We'll live eternally

————————————————

❤️ Happy Barricade Day 2025 ❤️ @barricadeday

I’m early for the Shooting a Flower prompt, but I couldn’t wait to share this. I think it’s some of my best work.

Please do not post to other sites without permission.

[acid-ixx]

Ohhhhhhhmisggashoosghhh

I love everything about "before the bell rings"

Such masterpiece such peakness oh my goodkdasssdffrddf. Couldnt stop thinking abt it couldnt stop rereading it its ltrly currently 3:11 am rn i wasnt aware of the time all i know was that i was obsessively drawing this man with your story in my mind my god i couldnt stop giggling and blushing n i had to take few breaks n paces in my room to cool off

HOPE U ARENT TOO WEIRDED OUT

— related post ! (tw: a bit nsfw, non-con kissing)

OHMYGOD. OHMYGOD!!! user luffyadolover you are the gift that keeps on giving because WHAT THE HELL??? more than five sketches of this feral, horny man and HE'S SO HANDSOME ILYSM FOR THIS!!! i'm actually so down bad i had to stare at the last image for a few minutes because YOU DREW THE ENTIRE SCENE SO WELL.

i love the first image, you drew him so well, the slick-back hair and everything!?!? with him looking all so proud of himself when he chooses something for his spouse that they actually really like, as if he didn't just planned to ignore you or to simply hastily choose whichever looks the fanciest; that was the plan until his brain haywires just witnessing the absolute joy on your face every time he picks something right; imprinting the memory of your smile in his brain to the point he sees it every time he blinks— so now it's become his daily mission after falling for you to traverse each and every shopping site and malls in his batcave to ensure you only get the highest quality of gifts. mind you, he is a very dedicated man, bruce wayne doesn't give up so easily.

AND THE SECOND AND THIRD IMAGES TOO !!! with his mask on, you couldn't really tell just how obsessed he is, due to the blunt face he always has to wear, but the comparison of him without; with the stare that speaks of a million promises all dedicated to honoring and cherishing his beloved spouse. he doesn't need wedding vows when his eyes (always almost unexpressive, unable to fully show the full range of his emotions; vulnerable in the midst of worshipping his sleeping, little deity) already presents what your future life would like with him.

it doesn't matter if you're drooling, or butt-fuck naked. if i say he's remembering every small, incoherent detail about how you sleep, what position you sleep in, even the position you bury your head in the pillow, let that devotion cement in the very crevices of his mind and in every corner of his heart. it wouldn't matter anyways that you're sleeping alone, hugging a pillow (that should've been him) now, because soon, you'd be quickly migrated in his bed, in his arms, and you won't be getting out. he'd be too invested in the smell of your hair, the feel of the pudge in your stomach, and the seams of your clothing rubbing against his thighs to even allow you to let go.

AND GOD, THE SKETCH WHERE HE'S JUST LICKING THE SPIT AND ALL?!? my brain is malfunctioning, i'm going insane. this is my favorite fanart of yours so far, i'm so grateful for your existence because you've graced me 😭 i'm absolutely not going to deny the future accusations of me writing for debauched and absolutely feral and/or horny bruce wayne!!! trust me when i'm telling you that he's not only memorizing exterior parts of you, but bruce promises (it's actually just him justifying his actions) himself that he has to remember what the inside of your mouth feels like to fully and properly kiss you before your wedding date arrives, just to establish how much of an absolutely perfect husband he will be for you.

to make up for all his past mistakes of absolutely ignoring you, to ensure you that it's not you who's the problem— it's him and he has to fix it all. he has to guarantee that you won't even dare look at another man; even if it means watching you every night disguised as the bat, then coming home to the manor (your shared home, soon) by the time the sun breaks out of its sleepy stupor, just to dream about what it'd feel like pinning you willingly and taking you all for himself after your honeymoon— how could a man like him stop dreaming about his beloved spouse? how could he control his hands to stop lingering beneath his utility belt just to touch and pleasure his body the same way he wishes to worship yours?

the answer is: you don't. or rather, you couldn't.

so if you ever feel your lips becoming more and more sore every other night, and notice the trinkets from your desk and even undergarments from your closet now missing... well, you'll soon know who the culprit is...

a/n: no, i do not tolerate this behavior irl. once again, pls be aware guys that this is a yandere blog (and i've been writing content like this for years) and i'm bound to write more extreme concepts compared to this. the only element that never disappears from this is that i'm writing under the sub-"category" of soft yandere. that doesn't mean it doesn't stray away from the eventual dub-con/non-con.

once again, thank u so much for the dedication to send me so many good fanarts @luffyadolover 😭🥹, although i may not always reply quickly, i appreciate you and all the other fanartists who spend their time drawing inspired by my content. it's truly an honor, and in all my years of writing, you guys are one of the reason why i still continue to write <333

[bluesunss]

Goldfish memory Choi Su-bong x F!Reader

part 2

summary: after witnessing your (ex-)boyfriend cheating on you (and making no effort to hide it), you go to a fast-food place and complain to the cashier. but that random man is a way better listener than your stupid ex ever was, and you find yourself ranting to that hot stranger.

warnings: not really a warning, but reader is extremely blunt, tactless and messy. not in a bad way, just a big blunt mess. swearing, mentions of cheating

a/n: sorry for being inactive :( ill try to update my main stories this weekend but here is a filler episode to make up for it. also McRonalds bc we boycott here ! btw not proofread im super tired #help

The lights of the cheap McRonald at the end of the street kept flickering to death, neon red bleeding into the puddles on the pavement. The rain fell in slow slivers, barely there but still making the hairs on your arms rise. You sneezed, walked faster and reached for the handle.

Your mind was a wreckage site. The sterile light immediately woke you up, it was so late. The smell of frying and salt hit your face, it got warmer and greasier. Scanning the screens, you found them all taken, and you muttered an insult. The cashier was tapping on the screen, his lips moving silently as if talking to himself, and he had an AirPod in.

He wouldn’t hear you. You needed to vent. That is why you slammed your hands onto the counter.

“I just think,” you announced, “that if you’re gonna cheat, at least try to fucking hide it."

The boy behind the register barely looked up from the screen, swaying his head slightly to the music you could hear from here. His name tag read Su-bong, his hair under his cap was too bright for this night, a flashy purple tousled on the edges of a fluffy brown mass, and you spotted silver piercings on his ears as well as a black line going up his coloured fingers. He looked familiar, but you had no time for familiarity.

“You okay girl?” he asked, finally looking at you when you said nothing, pulling out an earbud.

“Fucking great," you snapped. Anger and exhaustion coexisted within you and you broke down. "My boyfriend decided to raw-dog some girl on MY couch in MY house. When I opened the door, he saw me, but that asshole kept going until he finished. Only then did he fall to his knees and beg. After he was done."

You squint your eyes in disgust.

"He said it ‘just happened.’ Like he tripped and fell into her y’know."

Then, you stare suspiciously at the cashier. Gladly, it’s late, and there is no one standing behind you, the people are ordering at the machines. His dark eyes are surrounded by a blue orbit, and eye bags make the dark circles pop. He puts down the earbud, stops tapping on the screen.

Letting out a low whistle, he finally taps at the register. “That’s rough, señorita. Wouldn’t wish that on myself."

“No, rough is the fact that he had the audacity to send me a voice note crying about it,” you continued, pointing an accusing finger at him. “Like he’s the victim. Like I put him in that situation. You ever seen a grown man sniffle out a ‘baby please’ while he’s got another girl’s press-on nails still clawed into his shoulder?”

That got a real reaction. Su-bong barked out a laugh, pressing a hand to his chest like he’d been shot.

“Oh, that’s tragic.”

“That’s pathetic.”

He was still grinning when he turned around, grabbing a large soda cup and filling it, before taking a loud sip from it.

"So what’re you gonna do bout this cheating narcissistic little bitch?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean if I were you, I’d light his pants on fire. Or maybe steal his dog. Or… nah that’s breaking bro code. Don’t break his PS5. That’s too mean."

"Oh. Good ideas."

He shook his head and sipped again from his coke. "Nah. Y’know what breaks any man more than revenge? Nothing. Do nothing and walk away like a proud bitch. That makes us want to go on all fours and beg."

You laughed, hand brushing his arm instinctively. Keen on physical touch, that seemed to shine the cashier’s eyes who was already in another dimension. He stared at you an instant before straightening again.

"Why are you even helping me?" Your laugh died down, the ghost of a smile on your lips.

“Because my night’s already shit. And a pretty girl’s whining bout a shitty guy. What a way to score a goal on some fine shit."

Your heart, that had calmed down since the awful stress the visual sight from earlier had put on you, sprinted again. You were dizzy, it was late. His gaze locked with yours, tired. Absentmindedly, your fingers touched his forearm, and he let you there. Stroking circles, you watched the way his breath hitched and the way his eyes stared at your eyes. Those eyes. Those tattoos. This purple hair.

"Hold on. I know you."

The instant broke. He pulled his arm away, turned back to the register, lips curling, self-deprecating. “’Course you do babygirl. Everyone does." He sighed, took a sip of his drink. "’Specially after last week."

You leaned in. “You’re Thanos.”

His expression didn’t change. He slightly furrowed his brows, removed a piece of fry from his teeth and swallowed it. His elbows were now propped on the counter as your meal was getting prepared behind, and he was awaiting a reaction.

“My ex loved you,” you said. “Wouldn’t shut up about your freestyles. Played them in the car. I hated it.”

Su-bong blinked once. Then, instead of looking offended, he let out a short, dry laugh. “Wow. Brutal.”

"Fucking hell each time I’d hear your voice I thought I was going MAD. If we were fighting, he’d blast your hit song ‘break ur bones not my heart’ or whatever that was. If I complained about any minor inconvenience he’d slam into my ears ‘bitches get mad when they know I’m right’. Man, even after he cheated he sent me a Spotify link to your ‘ain’t nothing better than make up sex."

You were not exactly known for your tact. That is why Su-bong was biting his lower lip at a loss of words. He got criticism. Lots of it. But he’d usually get told his music was just plain amazing or shit. No explanation. He awaited the continuation. You were seemingly lost in your raging anger.

"Your rap isn’t totally bad though," you remarked. "Just-"

“Just?”

You sighed, debating whether you should keep talking. But you were too far in.

“Sometimes it felt like you relied too much on your flow to carry you. Like, you’d have these really good setups, and I’d be waiting for the punchline, and then it wouldn’t land as hard as it could have. Like you were holding back, or playing it safe. I mean I would appreciate some of the things my ex played in my ears, but I’d never tell him."

He didn’t say anything right away. Just tilted his head slightly, considering.

Then: “That’s actually solid criticism.”

You shrugged. “Whatever." Then, you looked over his shoulder. "I’m hungry! When’s my food coming?"

Su-bong looked back too, before standing. "Girl I think you forgot to order."

That made you smile. He watched you, amused, as you made a motion similar to pouting, observing the menu. "Triple cheeseburger. Lots of fries and pickles. And sauce. Extra spicy."

Su-bong tilted his head. "That’s all for you tonight señorita?"

You bit your lip again, let out a quiet ouch. "I think so. Oh, maybe add sparkling water."

He smirked. "Not many people go for that."

You didn’t answer immediately, pulling out your card from the mess in your bag as two lipsticks fell and rolled to the ground as well as bills. Muttering insults, you knelt and grabbed your stuff, finally exhaling.

"Yeah I’ve never tried it before. Just first thing that came to my mind. I don’t wanna think of the shit in my apartment. Fucking hell, he stained my couch with his sweat and another woman’s. That’s so disgusting!" You kept swearing, scanning the card. It kept declining and you almost crumbled in despair.

The cashier chuckled pitifully. "Don’t worry it’s on me. Tonight."

You half-smiled. "You’re broke. I saw the last rap battle. Actually, my ex kept replaying it and saying it was rigged and you didn’t forget your own lyrics."

If he was embarrassed, he did not show it. He called someone from the back and gave them your exact order. "See? The memory of a goldfish."

"Gold fishes have shit memories. It’s elephants."

He laughed. "I know babe. Been testing you."

Your meal came. His fingers brushed against yours as he gave you your cardboard bag, he stared at you a second too long.

is not proofread I’m exhausted I need sleep

[whatsnewsameasiteverwas]

Let’s talk about October 8th

Edit: I stupidly forgot the author…This beautiful piece was written by Masha Gabriel, the director of CAMERA’s Spanish department, CAMERA Español.

Oct. 8, however, took on a uniquely Jewish significance. The focus shifted from the event itself to the reactions it provoked. Rather than universal empathy for the victims, what followed was a wave of hatred. If the seventh was marked by extreme violence, the eighth saw this evil rationalized and fitted into ideological frameworks.

As horrifying images circulated, Europe witnessed jubilant celebrations and the rise of openly antisemitic voices justifying the slaughter, while others sought to deny the atrocities witnessed by the world. Never before had such a massacre been met with such public rejoicing and unashamed antisemitism in Western streets.

This mix of celebration, denial and justification paradoxically formed a cohesive ideological front that permeated intellectual, artistic, media and educational spheres. Oct. 8 reminded many Jews that they stood alone, while Islamist totalitarians had enough allies in the West to reignite existential Jewish fears never fully buried.

Holocaust historian Georges Bensoussan reflected on these events likening them to a “second act” of the Holocaust, saying: “Jews reacted with their long memory of persecution and, more poignantly, their recent memory of the Shoah. Oct. 7 was seen as a prelude to a potential catastrophe, awakening existential fears even among the most empathetic observers.”

In a mutating Western world, however, compassionate voices were often drowned out by orchestrated narratives aimed at erasing any possibility of coexistence. Jews were attacked globally in response to the violence in Israel with hatred spreading like wildfire, filling streets with angry mobs and antisemitic chants, and targeting Jewish sites from cemeteries to synagogues.

Under the guise of radical slogans, terrorism’s useful pawns waged war on the free world and were met largely with cowardly silence. To sustain this lack of empathy for Jewish victims, some segments of the left sought to dehumanize Israelis, even comparing them to Nazis.

Such distortions only deepened Jewish trauma and deflected from legitimate discourse on conflict resolution. Terms like “genocide” were misapplied, ignoring legal definitions and historical context, further complicating efforts toward peace.

Ironically, those who claim moral high ground often fuel antisemitism and fixate on demonizing Zionism—an anticolonial movement that enabled the self-determination of an indigenous people in their homeland, ensuring equal rights for all citizens, regardless of race, gender or status.

Oct. 8 symbolizes not only Jewish isolation but also a profound moral failure of the West that is incapable of protecting its minorities or educating against historical and emotional illiteracy fostered through empty slogans, which, as French philosopher Raphael Enthoven aptly put it, “substitutes for thought.”

[starcrossed-lov3rz]

The Vow Spoken Through Time - Part 3

Daemon x Rhaenyra x Wife!Reader

Series: Series Masterlist

Warnings: MDNI, violence, minor character death, general filth, mild smut, dirty talk, oral (fem receiving), and Daemon Targaryen is his own warning 

Tags: marriage, poly relationship, Daemon being hopelessly in love with his wives, Queen!Rhaenyra

Words: 2.2K

Description: Y/N is having a rough morning. She's fired. She's hungover. She's in a stranger's bed. She's waking up in a new world? She's married?!

Rhaenyra and Daemon's day started normal. Waking up next to their darling wife before tending to their duties. The difference? Their wife is speaking in riddles and has no memories of them.

Check out more works in my Masterlist!

You gaze out across the stadium, shocked at the hundreds of people clamoring to see the violence and pageantry of the tournament. Your hands smooth down your dress anxiously. Rhaenyra picked a beautiful gown. The deep red of the gown is offset with gold embroidery along your shoulders and waist. The patterns resemble dragon scales, glistening as the light hits it.

Rhaenyra looks over, seeing your anxious movements and grabbing your hand to still the gesture. She brings it up to her mouth, kissing the back of your hand before she turns to address the crowd.

“Be welcome!” She shouts. “I know that many of you have traveled great distances to witness these games. I trust you will not be disappointed.”

The crowd’s cheers are deafening, but Rhaenyra continues once they die down to a dull roar. “Looking across the fine knights here today, I see a group without equal. May the luck of the seven shine on our combatants!”

She raises your joined hands in a cheer. You brace yourself for whatever disapproval might come from the crowd. If two women in modern days still got weird looks in public, you weren’t sure you were ready for whatever reaction this medieval world would have. The crowd continues to cheer, and you swear you can hear someone shouting “all hail the queens.” 

Rhaenyra pulls you in for a chaste kiss before motioning for the tourney announcer to take over. Your cheeks are on fire from her very public display of affection. “I wasn’t expecting that reaction,” you admitted as you both took your seats. 

“Whatever do you mean, darling?”

“I-” you pause for a moment. “You know? I just didn’t think people would be so accepting of our relationship?”

Rhaenyra laughs, “the smallfolk have always adored you. How could they not?”

“It’s just that people where I’m from-”

“You’re from here.” Rhaenyra interrupts, frowning. “Your place is with me, with us. Our people–your people–would fight wars in your name.”

You sigh in frustration. Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the maester were still convinced that you fell and all the memories of your past life were just an odd dream. It wasn’t a frequent argument, but one that never failed to begin at the most inconvenient times.

When you don’t respond, Nyra cups your face in her hands and forces you to look her in the eyes. “Do you know what the smallfolk see when they look at you?”

“Nyra-”

“They see the same thing that I see,” she says. “A queen.” Your hand comes up to cover hers as you lean into her palm. 

Rhaenyra’s thumb gently strokes your cheek. “I love you. It doesn’t matter where you came from, you’re here now. You’re here, and you’re mine. Never forget that.” 

Your breath catches in your throat. “It’s not fair,” you whisper. “You always know exactly what to say.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, a yell from the arena draws your attention. “My queen! My lady!” Daemon’s voice reverberates through the stadium. Both you and Rhaenyra walk to the edge of the balcony, and the site nearly takes your breath away. Your husband is terrifying in his armor, and so, so, so attractive. 

“Fuck,” you swear. The dark armor is covered in the Targaryen crest and adorned with dragon-reminiscent flairs throughout the pieces. Daemon removes his helmet, shaking our his hair and preening at the attention.

“My beautiful wives, I am certain that I will win this tournament.” Daemon boasts. “But with your favor, there will be no doubt.” 

Rhaenyra laughs, “I don’t know. Should we offer our dear husband our favor?” 

“Hmmm,” you pretend to think it over. “I fear there are many knights worthy of this honor. How am I to deci-”

“My love, must I get on my knees to beg your favor,” Daemon teases.

“It would certainly be a start,” you smirk. “I suppose I can give you our favor, on one condition.”

“Anything.”

“Win this tourney swiftly so we might celebrate your victory together.” You say, grabbing the favor.

Daemon winks at you, raising his fist as the crowd roars in approval. You watch your husband ride out to meet his first opponent. 

“You know we are never going to hear the end of it if he wins,” Rhaenyra sighs. Daemon takes his place across from the other knight, placing his helmet back on and adjusting his grip on the jousting lance. 

“Was there ever a doubt he would?” you ask as Daemon and his opponent charge at each other on horseback. The crash as the lance hit lands and breaks is unsettling. Daemon’s opponent flies from his saddle, landing hard on the ground.

“True,” Rhaenyra agrees. Daemon tosses the broken half of his lance, jumping to the ground and drawing his sword. “Next year I plan to find Daemon a real challenge.” Daemon stalks in a circle around his opponent, waiting for the knight to regain his footing and draw his weapon. The knight recovers, going on the offensive to swipe his sword at Daemon.

You snort in amusement. “Are the rest of the knights really that bad?” Daemon easily dances around blows, not even bothering to waste his energy by parrying them. He’s toying with the other knight. Letting him exhaust and embarrass himself in the arena before Daemon ends the fight. You see the ghost of a smirk play on Daemon’s lips as he tosses his helmet to the ground.

“No, they’re actually quite skilled,” Rhaenyra replies. The knight’s attacks become harder and more calculated. Daemon parries them with practiced ease. You see the knight lean in as he gets closer to say something to Daemon. They’re too soft for anyone else to hear, but Daemon clearly heard them. His smirk drops and his gaze darkens. 

He’s ending this now. Daemon pushes the knight back, swinging a hard blow with his sword.

“Daemon is just….” The knight scrambles to parry the swing, but the blow is hard enough to dislodge his grip. Your eyes widen in shock, Daemon is ending more than this fight. You instantly snap your eyes shut, but you can still hear Rhaenyra’s words in time with Daemon’s strikes.

“That.” 

“Much.” 

“Better.”

The knight’s screams stop with the final blow. You open your eyes to peak at the scene in front of you. The knight is unmoving on the ground. His armor dented in. His sword hand on one side of the arena. His head at the other.

“I think I’m gonna be sick,” you mutter.

“A Targaryen tourney without at least one death would be considered boring.”

Your eyes land on your husband. He’s looming over the headless body of the knight. Daemon spits on the corpse before walking away.

Even Rhaenyra is shocked, but regardless, the tournament continues on throughout the late afternoon. The other fights are nowhere near as violent as Daemon’s round. Daemon is eerily calm as he wins his rounds with brutal efficiency. He doesn’t kill another opponent, but he makes light work of each one. 

After the stadium clears out, you walk with the maids back to your chambers as Rhaenyra left to greet some of the noble houses who haven’t visited Kings Landing since the last tournament. When you get back, you ask the maids to draw a bath and you gather up Daemon’s favorite soaps and oils. You didn’t realize just how serious a tournament was. After seeing that brutality, you were just relieved that Daemon was coming back safe.

The doors to your chambers shuts loudly,and you turn to see Daemon still in his armor. “Daemon-” He cuts you off with a kiss, sweeping you off your feet. 

“I need you.” Daemon says, pulling at your gown as he struggles to unlace the back. Growling in frustration, he tears the fabric. 

“Daemon! What’s gotten into you?” You yelp. “At least take off that damn armor first!”

“Fuck,” he swears, backing away from you as he begins slipping off his armor piece by piece. You reach forward to help him.

Once he’s rid himself of the armor, Daemon picks you up. You wrap your legs around his waist instinctively, and he grinds against you. He kisses and bites at your neck like a starved man. Whimpers and moans fall from your lips as you tug roughly at his hair. “Daemon, wait,” you say breathlessly. 

“Hmm,” he rumbles as he pulls back. 

“If you keep going, it’s going to ruin my plans,” you whine. “I wanted to spoil you. Please get in the bath before it gets cold.”

Daemon follows your gaze to the tub and sees your handiwork–candles meticulously placed around a steaming bath. The table next to the tub piled high with luxurious oils, wine, and fruits. “You did this for me?” He asks. You nod vigorously and he captures your lips in a heated kiss. “Gods above, you never fail to surprise me.”

You giggle as Daemon carries you to the tub and you both sink into the water. Daemon moans as the water eases over his sore muscles. You shift so that Daemon is leaning back against your chest and begin meticulously scrubbing his body. “You’re so perfect,” he groans as you massage at the knots in his shoulders. 

You hum in response, focusing on the knots. You find yourself softly singing as you work, and you glance down to see Daemon nodding off. Moving to work on his hair, you gently detangle his braids and massage the soap into his scalp.

“Love,” you begin, “what happened in that first fight?” You feel Daemon’s body stiffen against yours. 

“Nothing.” 

“Are you sure? It didn’t seem like nothing.” You answer. 

“It. Was. Nothing.” He’s definitely hiding something.

“No it wasn’t,” you insist. “He said something and you lost it. What did he say?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Daemon’s tone is short, but it’s clear he’s still upset over whatever that knight said.

“Yes it does, just te-”

“He called you a whore!” Daemon shouts, whipping around in the tub. “That spineless bastard called you a whore, and asked if he could take a turn after you finished eating Rhaenyra’s cunt on the balcony.”

You blink. Shocked. You assumed it was bad, but didn’t realize it would be quite that vulgar. “And you killed him for it?”

“If I could go back, I wouldn’t kill him,” Daemon bares his teeth as he hisses out the words.

You raise a brow in response.

“I would cut him apart piece by piece until he begged for death,” Daemon growls. “And when he’s on the brink of death, I would call for the maester to heal him so I could do it all over again.”

“Fuck,” you swear. Hearing your husband’s bloodthirst shouldn’t be this hot. Your breath quickens, and you shift.

Daemon notices your sudden shift in demeanor. “I see,” he grins. “I kill a man for disrespecting you, and all you can think about is my cock.”

You whine, desperate for Daemon to touch you. After he and Rhaenyra left you wanting this morning, you’ve been on edge all day. Daemon stands up, water sloshing from the tub as he climbs out and pours a glass of wine. He sips a mouthful before leaning down to kiss you. You moan as the wine hits your tongue. Daemon pulls back, popping a grape in your mouth before picking you from the tub and tossing you on the bed.

“I’ll just have to give my sweet girl exactly what she wants,” Daemon says. He drips wine across your body, lapping up the drops as he follows the trail with his tongue. Daemon knocks back the rest of his wine, placing the chalice on the dresser. He settles between your legs, wrapping his arms around your thighs as he dives into your cunt.

Daemon’s tongue swipes broad strokes across your cunt, lapping greedily. He suckles at your clit, and you cry out in pleasure as his hums vibrate against you.

“What is this?”

You try to shoot up to greet Rhaenyra, but Daemon’s arms have you locked in place. “Rha-Rhae-fuck-Rhaenyra” You struggle to speak as you feel your orgasm building. Your eyes roll back as Daemon moves an arm to slide two fingers into your weeping cunt. Moans fall from your lips as you buck into his mouth and hands.

Just before you climax, Daemon pulls back. “My queen,” he greets as Rhaenyra leans in for a kiss. 

“I take it our girl couldn’t wait?”

Daemon grins. “She never does.”

NOTE: This was supposed to just be smut, but I got carried away. Anyway, hope you enjoyed bloodthirsty Daemon, I know I did. Next part coming Friday or Saturday night (and yes, it’s going to pick up RIGHT where we left off). I have two delicious requests in the works: 1) a Feyd Rautha request (featuring the iconic darlings), and 2) a Daemon request (featuring some angst and steamy make-up sex). ~ Lacie <3

Taglist: @syraxnyra @avalyaaa

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[imperfectskeleton]

I’ve started on my animorphs read (got a whole heap of notes on the first three chapters somebody help me) and I was thinking about how it’s neat that visser three is the one to say elfangor’s name but also. <an honour to meet you>

like probably nobody else knows this isn’t their first meeting because of Chapman’s apparent memory wipe. And like wow, this is a big moment. Their first face-to-face meeting since the alternate universe.

Prince Elfangor-Sirinial-Shamtul, decorated by the Andalite military, mortally wounded and the last survivor of the ambush on his dome ship. A hero so big that nobody will ever hear of his crimes, who just wanted to do things right.

And he’s facing Visser Three, who nobody has fought and survived.

Whose face he has personally been spitting in - as well as a creature without a mouth can - since he was just a subvisser in a hork-Bajir body.

Whose hands he played into better than the visser could ever have hoped, allowing this abomination - an andalite controlled by a yeerk - to be created.

And he knows he has to die. There’s nothing he can do, but he makes his ship fire, one last time - not on alloran though, he could never kill alloran, this is all his fault after all, but people have been freed before, and he’s just met the son he never even saw and he needs what he tells these human children to matter.

So he shows them how to fight, how to be brave, as one of the biggest moments in the war against the Yeerks happens in an abandoned construction site on Earth, with five human children as witnesses. Elfangor probably isn’t arrogant enough to think he’s a big moment, but to the yeerks, to the andalites, to the animorphs, he is. So really, of course, the biggest moment in the war was before visser three landed and showed the animorphs what elfangor meant. It was when a dying alien crash-landed in front of a bunch of mall rats who should’ve taken the long way home.

[kimkenta]

Timelines, Jewelry, and Sex? Oh My!

Despite all efforts to keep myself from constantly overanalyzing love scenes on this site, here I am once again. And this time I've brought three (3) of them!

It was honestly inevitable because in a series like this where sex quite literally drives the plot, these scenes are necessary to understanding the story and characters, and in turn must be discussed. That said, walk with me lovelies. We have a lot to cover. Theories and takeaways are in blue, and questions and discourse are welcome.

Great and Tyme's love scene was so beautiful and truly a joy to witness which is why it pains me to say that it was not real. At this point, we can all agree that there are multiple timelines in play. That's why I think their love scene and the moments that lead up to it were what Great wishes their relationship was like if he had made all the right choices and met Tyme under different circumstances.

I think their relationship started with a one-night stand possibly initiated by Tyme to get closer to Great and his family.

Now before I attempt to provide evidence to support my thesis, I need to point out one thing about the timelines—they are parallel. Great's first 4-minute out of body experience establishes that point.

Sure, going back in time allows him to make a different, often better choice, but the timeline in which he made his initial choice continues.

That is why we see him wake from the "nightmare" of seeing Manee lying dead on the ground after he hits her and drives off. That timeline is still in motion and part of him has experienced and is still experiencing it.

The notion of parallel timelines is further supported by the final scene in episode 4 where we see two timelines seemingly collide as Dome returns home in one and is dead in another.

I highly recommend reading this post by @becauseimanicequeen which has an extraordinary breakdown of possible timelines and the differences between them.

Taking what we've seen so far into account, my theory is that each 4-minute jump creates a new timeline or a new branch in an existing timeline that later merges back into it's parent timeline while all events and memories remain intact. Lukwa provides a bit of insight on this during her interview with Dr. Den:

What I plan to discuss in this post is based on the premise that there at least 4 timelines in play for Great-Tyme's part of the story:

Great hits Manee and drives off → has his first 4-minute jump (4MJ) → a new timeline is created; this one continues with memories intact → ?

Great hits Manee, stays, and calls for help → visits her at the hospital and delivers flowers to her room where they talk for a bit → bumps into Tyme and tries to leave, but ends up having a 4MJ → a new timeline is created; this one continues w/ memories intact → ?

Great leaves the flowers he brought for Manee at the nurse's station → first instance of seeing visions of he and Tyme having sex on 2 different occasions → bumps into Tyme, says sorry, and helps him pick up the papers → Title kills Dome and Great has a 4MJ → a new timeline is created; this one continues w/ memories intact → (this is where Tonkla and Win would come in, but they're not my focus atm) → ?

Great saves Dome and takes him to the hospital → Tyme sutures his wound; Great recalls visions of him riding Tyme → Tyme saves him from being choked out/killed by Title in the garage → Tyme brings Great his favorite iced tea and is rejected when he asks Great out → Great has a 4MJ, explains what's been going on to Tyme and asks him out → claw machine date at the mall and almost kiss in the car (interspersed with another round of visions of his other self and Tyme from T2 sleeping together; I'll explain later) → Tyme attacks Korn looking for answers about Nan's whereabouts → Great confronts Tyme at the hospital → has a second 4MJ and promises to help find Nan → Great finds Nan, but hesitates and fails to save her → has a third 4MJ, manages to save Nan, and escapes with Tyme's help → they quickly drop Nan off at the hospital and skip town → sleep together

Since Great has had three 4MJs in T4 (the current timeline), it is plausible that 3 additional timelines may have been created but I don't think that's the case because (1) four is a thematic number in the series and (2) T4 is the timeline that offers the most continuity in sequence of events.

It's also interesting to note that Great's 4MJs have become more frequent and life-threatening which could mean that he's on the right track and/or nearing the end.

That aside, the timeline I want to focus on is T2, which is where I think one of their sexual encounters takes place. Let's take a look at the timeline as if Great's 4MJ does not occur:

Great hits Manee, stays with her, and calls for help

Great visits Manee at the hospital and delivers flowers to her room where they talk for a bit

Great, unnerved by his conversation with Manee, bumps into Tyme and leaves

Great meets Tyme at a bar and they end up having a one-night stand

This scene was the sole catalyst for this post because Great seems to be wearing the same outfit he had on when he visited Manee at the hospital—jewelry and all.

Our rich boy may like wearing black and white, but he is not one for repeating outfits.

While chatting at the bar, they're conversation indicates that they remember bumping into each other at the hospital. However, unlike in T3 and T4, they don't seem to know each other beyond that. It's possible that Tyme may have some info on Great because he is investigating his family, but they're essentially strangers both to us and each other. This Dr. Tyme (T2) is not the rizz-less one we know and love from T4 because he manages to charm his way into spending the night with Great (this is speculation; Great very well could have done the charming and Tyme got lucky). How do we know this? Great's visions from the first time he bumped into Tyme at the hospital (T3) and the almost-kiss in the car (T4) show us what happens next.

Great-Tyme are seen holding hands as they enter Great's condo. I will admit that this is quite familiar behavior for people who've essentially just met, but holding hands with your one-night stand is entirely possible. That aside, if you look closely you'll notice that Tyme is wearing a silver paperclip bracelet and Great is wearing his favored watch.

These are the same pieces of jewelry that they're wearing when Tyme kisses Great's chest on the pool table ... which is insane choice of a flat surface to start a romp on when the bed is literally a few feet away, but I get it. Where else would one serve a full-course meal if not on a table?

Anyway~ Tyme is also wearing a necklace which will be of note in a sec, but what I find interesting is the stark difference in this Tyme's gaze and demeanor in comparison to the one in episode 4. He appears to be more confident and decisive.

A man on a mission and who knows exactly what he's doing. That said, if we ever get the entirety of this scene, I wouldn't be surprised if he doesn't kiss Great on the lips because there seems to be an emotional distance between them that is not present in the love scene we saw in episode 4.

Now back to Tyme's necklace. He appears to be wearing it in another scene from the trailer where he's standing next to Great's window so it's safe to assume that it's the same day.

I can't decide whether his gaze is menacing or not, but he is holding a rag and something black and shiny that looks like a switchblade a phone so we'll just have to wait and see.

So far we've looked at 2 of the 3 Great-Tyme love scenes shown in the trailer. The third, which also takes place in Great's condo, is one that also gives me pause because once again, Tyme's gaze is different.

Something about the way he looks at Great does not read as the Tyme we've been seeing over the last 4 episodes.

But what's most notable to me in this love scene is that neither of them is wearing any jewelry. Great doesn't wear jewelry at home, so not having any jewelry on in this scene isn't out of the ordinary. Tyme on the other hand, is NEVER without his smartwatch. And as I'm writing this, I've realized that we've never seen any indication of what time it is when Tyme is alone. The only instance we've seen a clock in direct relation to Tyme is on his phone when he exchanged numbers with Great at the skatepark.

So, is any of what we've seen so far real?

Yes and no. The only thing that has been real and consistent throughout Great-Tyme's storyline is the certainty of death; impending or otherwise. And because of that, neither Great's nor Tyme's perspectives are reliable.

It may feel like we are getting the full picture, but there is always something missing in between.

If you've made it this far, thanks for reading. Now off to episode 5 to see how wrong I am XD

[thevulturesquadron]

No, Neve is not unreasonable, mean or stupid (all things I’ve seen people describe her as) for not showing much sympathy towards Solas during the reveal of his regrets or during his memories in the Crossroads.

She witnessed him kill her friend the very first time they made contact. She never knew Solas, only the Dread Wolf. She didn’t hear fond stories of the Inquisition about the sad apostate from Varric, but she did have to drag his cold body from the ritual site.

Mythal, whatever part she played in the past, didn’t make Solas angrily plunge that dagger into his own friend. It was his hand, his doing. And Neve was there through all of that.

Her perspective around the table is equally important in order to get the full picture.

[ayeolaomolara]

Today is the anniversary of the assasination of our revolutionary African brother el-Hajj Malik el-Shabazz, also known as Malcom X. Swipe to see some quotes of his that are my guiding light.

My politics and the politics of so many abolitionists are primarily informed by Malcom X’s legacy, his timeless wisdom and unwavering commitment to securing human rights for oppressed people globally. His vision of an Africa, united with the Black diaspora is a dream I hold.

As the western empire crumbles under the weight of its contradictions, it can be easy to despair and wait to be swallowed up in the rot. But the injustices we are witnessing are only one aspect of reality. Even in the 1960s, Malcom X refused to give into thoughts of hopelessness. He was too attuned to the global community to succumb. He felt confident justice would be realized because he looked to the people the imperial media tries to erase. The communities that are exploited in order for the western world to thrive are rising up and recognizing their power and divine rights.

‘But when you find those of us who have been following the nationalistic thinking that prevails in Harlem, we don’t think of ourselves as a minority, because we don’t think of ourselves just within the context of the American stage or the American scene, in which we would be a minority. We think of things worldly, or as the world is; we think of our part in the world, and we look upon ourselves not as a dark minority on the white American stage, but rather we look upon ourselves as a part of the dark majority who now prevail on the world stage. And when you think like this automatically, when you realize you are part of the majority, you approach your problem as if odds are on your side rather than odds are against you.” -Malcom X 1965

I wish he could see the way our people are continuing to build solidarity and meaningful power against imperialism and racism. May his memory continue to be a flame that ignites our fight for justice and liberation.

In remembrance of his legacy I’m sharing a portrait of him that I illustrated and pages focused on Malcom X from my Pan African Revolutionaries zine. The zine is available as a free pdf on my site and also includes portraits and quotes from Angela Davis, Assata Shakur and Thomas Sankara 🐉

[albertasunrise]

Work Wife - One

Masterlist

Summary: Working as a Secretary and Miller & Sons Construction, you fall hopelessly in love with the eldest son Joel. What you don’t realise is that Joel’s completely in love with you too. What will it take for the two of you to realise whats’s right in front of you?

Pairing: Young Joel Miller x Reader

Warnings: Like AO3, I choose not to give any so the plot isn’t spoiled. This fic is 18+ (So here’s the first chapter as promised! I hope you all enjoy. Let me know what y’all think ♥️… I wrote half of this on my iPad so sorry for mistakes 😅)

Series Masterlist

Working as a secretary at Miller & Son's Construction had its highs and lows. You loved the job. The pay was great, and all the guys treated you impeccably, but there was just one slight problem that, if you were honest with yourself, wasn't really a problem but more of a personal issue. 

You were in love with Joel Miller. 

At 21, Joel was already shaping up to be a fine businessman, taking on a lot of the work from his father so that Cole Miller and his wife Lucia could take more time for themselves. The youngest Miller brother Tommy was shaping up to be a troublemaker. At 17, he was often out drinking with his friends and getting himself arrested and it had fallen to Joel to bail his little brother out every time. 

You were a year younger than Joel but as he always said, years ahead of him on the maturity scale. You had always been an old soul but that hadn't stopped you from developing the biggest schoolgirl crush on Joel the day you had started, two years ago. What had started off as a temporary job before you went off to college became permanent when your mum had gotten sick and your dreams of going to college were dashed. 

Her illness took her a year after she had been diagnosed and with no father to speak of, you were left alone in the house you'd grown up in. Alone, with nothing but the photos on your walls for company. That time had been what had brought you and Joel closer together but had also forged your crush into what it was now. Unrequited love. 

Or so you thought. 

"Sup Pip." Said Joel as he placed a paper coffee cup down beside your keyboard "How's my favourite secretary this mornin'?" 

"I'm you're only Secretary Miller." You chuckled as you picked up your cup to take a sip and hummed at the perfect coffee flavour that exploded across your taste buds "Better now you've brought me coffee." 

"Always happy to assist Pip." He said with a wink and you prayed your flushing cheeks didn't give away how much his wink affected you. 

Pip had been a nickname Joel had affectionately given you around three months after you had started. You had been eating a plum at your desk, not a care in the work and engrossed in the customer email that you were reading that you hadn't noticed that the next bite you had taken had contained the pip. Joel had walked in just in time to witness you choking and, using his first aid training he'd acquired just the week before, had managed to save you from a fruity death. 

From that day he had called you pip. 

Because you'd almost choked on one. 

"Anything I need to know about before I head to the site?" Joel asked, pulling you from the memory of your near-death experience and you shook your head slightly before giving him what you hoped was a bright smile. 

"Yes." You replied as you pulled out the list you had compiled for him "A Mr and Mrs Cork have emailed, wanting a quote for an extension and kitchen refit." You stated as you handed him the email with a post it note with their number on top "You have a call with a new cement supplied at 2 and Gloria Mullins called this morning asking that you call her when you get a chance, apparently her boiler is on the fritz again." 

"I need to tell that woman one of these days that I'm not a plumber." He chuckled to himself as he took the rest of the notes from you. 

"You just need to stop being so nice." You chuckled "You've set their expectations now." 

"I think you're probably right." Joel chuckled as he grabbed his own coffee cup and took a large swig "Anything else?" 

"There's just one more thing." You said shyly as you smiled awkwardly "I need to duck out a little earlier today." 

"Hot date?" Joel asked and you knew he could see you blushing now. 

"Actually yeah." You answered as you looked down at your hands, missing the way Joel's expression dropped "Simon asked me to dinner." 

"Simon Richards?" He asked and you nodded "Oh, wow. I uh... I didn't realise you were into him." Joel shrugged before taking another sip of coffee to try and settle his nerves. 

"Well, he's cute and sweet and it's not like I have guys lining up to ask me out." You replied, your smile almost sad "So I thought I should at least go. See if there's any chemistry there." 

"Sure... Of course." 

Joel knew his response was cold but he couldn't help it. Learning that you were going on a date just made him want to find the nearest pillow and scream. These feelings he had for you drove him crazy and it didn’t help that all his employees knew how he felt about you too. He’d allowed them to plant false hope when they told him that it was obvious you felt the same way. It was becoming painfully clear now that that wasn’t the case. 

He needed to get over you. 

You couldn’t help but notice the slight icy tone that had coated Joel’s response to your request and you couldn’t help be feel a little confused by it. You never asked for things. Often worked late to make sure everyone and everything was up to date. You would argue that you were one of his hardest workers so sue you for wanting to let your hair down a little. 

It’s not like he felt for you the way you did for him. 

“Sure.” He said after a short and awkward pause “Lord knows you deserve an early finish.” He chuffed before gathering his bag, the papers you’d given him and his coffee “And, seeing as I won’t be back today and Friday, I suppose I’ll see you Monday!”

“That you will!” 

“Enjoy your date, Pip.” he finished before giving you a friendly wave and then leaving. 

“I’ll try to.” you said sadly as you watched him walk away. 

...

"You are my hero!" Hailed Gloria as she clapped in delight at Joel's handy work. 

"Was an easy fix." Joel shrugged as he waved the older woman off. 

"You always talk yourself down." She chuckled, her Jamaican accent coming out thicker with her statement. 

"I'm just speaking the truth ma'am." 

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me Gloria?" The older woman chuckled and Joel winked as he replied. 

"At least once more."

"Auntie G... you home?" Came a voice that Joel didn't recognise and he looked up just as the owner walked into the room he had occupied with Gloria.  

"Ah, darlin' this is that fine man Joel I was tellin' you about." Said Gloria as she smiled at her niece. 

Joel was instantly aware of the fact he was wearing paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt so worn that he was sure this mysterious girl could see his nipples through it. 

"Joel, darlin' this is my niece, Eliza." Gloria stated and Joel quickly rubbed his hands down the front of his jeans before taking the hand that was being held out to him.

"Nice to meet ya' darlin'." He said sweetly as he gave her a shy smile "Was just helpin' Gloria here with her boiler. Darn thing needs replacin' really but-"

"I won't replace something just because it's a little saucy with me sometimes.' 

"You won't replace it because poor Joel here keeps fixing it for free." Eliza teased and Joel scratched the back of his neck nervously as he replied. 

"Well not completely free." He chuckled "She sends me away with weeks worth of food." 

"You're too skinny." Gloria chuffed "No girls gonna want to marry a man with no meat on his bones." 

Joel chuckled at the older woman's statement before looking back at Eliza who was grinning at him as she practically fluttered her thick black lashes at him.  

"Well, I need to get to that meeting I was talking about." Stated Joel as he coughed nervously. 

"Don't forget to pop by later for your food!" Gloria ordered as she watched him collect his tools "I made you my famous jerk chicken with rice... peas on the side." She finished with a wink.

"Why on the side?" Eliza asked and Gloria simply rolled her eyes as she said.

"Boy don't like them mixed in." 

Eliza mouthed an 'ooooooh' before watching as Joel started to leave. 

"I'll see you later to grab that food." 

"Or I could bring it by?" Eliz suggested, "You give me your address and I can swing by and drop it off when you're home."

"Oh that's-"

"Ah, splendid idea." Gloria interrupted, leaving Joel looking like a fish out of water "Don't worry dear, I'll give her your address. Get her to drop it by around 9. You're normally home then, right?"

"Right but-"

"9 it is now you best get going or y'all be late." Said Gloria as she practically herded Joel out the door. Leaving him speechless when he made it back to his truck. 

What an earth just happened?

...

The restaurant that Simon had brought you to was nice. Not too fancy but not exactly a dive either. Conversations had been a little awkward at first. You'd not really been on many dates but after being honest with Simon about your lack of dating experiences, he put you at ease and now after one glass of wine and a very large meal, the two of you were chuckling away as subjects came easier to you both.  

"So how long have you worked for Mr Miller?" You asked as you sipped at your second glass of wine. Simon had already been at the company when you had started and was a few years older than you and Joel. 

"More or less straight outa of high school." He replied as he took a swig of his soft drink "Have always been good with my hands so when Cole put up an advert for an apprentice I marched myself over to his office and waited till he got back to speak to him..." 

"Wow." You chuckled around the rim of your glass. 

"Guy liked my tenacity. Offered me the job on the spot." 

"Well, you know my story so..." You trailed off, smiling sweetly at him as he grinned at you.

"So glad you agreed to come out with me." Simon confessed, his cheeks tinging pink "Been wantin' to ask you out a while but didn't outa respect for Joel, but can only wait so lo-"

"What do you mean, out of respect for Joel?" You asked and Simon's expression took on one of a deer caught in headlights.

"Well... with him being into you and all." Simon clarified and your brows drew together as you shook your head.

"Joel isn't into me." You pushed and Simon grew more uncomfortable with each passing moment. 

"He's been crushin' on you more or less from day dot." Your date continued when he saw you needed further clarity "We've always teased him for it but he never made a move so I thought, you know, with him not trying to date you it'd be okay for me to." 

You weren't sure what to do with the information you'd just received. For years now you had pushed your feelings down for Joel because you believed he didn't return them. So to learn that he might really put a spammer in the works for you. 

The subject moved on after that but the atmosphere wasn't as relaxed. After Simon dropped you home, you allowed what he'd told you to run on repeat in your brain. Keeping you from getting to sleep until late that night. Yet, you came to a decision before you finally drifted off. You were going to go to Joel's in the morning and ask him.  

You had to be sure.  

...

Joel wasn't surprised when there was a knock at his door at 9 pm sharp. He opened the door to see a beaming Eliza on the other side, her arms full of food containers. 

"Shit, come in." Joel said before grabbing a few containers to ease the load. "Let me take some of those." 

"Auntie G likes to feed you huh?" She chuckled as she followed Joel into his kitchen. 

"I had to buy a second freezer." Joel stated and Eliza barked out a laugh, taking Joel by surprise. 

"She's always been a feeder." She chuckled before placing the food down beside where Joel had put the other containers "Think it's a Caribbean thing."

Joel chuckled before turning to face his guest. 

"Thank you for dropping this by. You really didn't have to go through all the trouble."

"It's not trouble is I offer." Eliz chuckled and Joel chuckled at her reply. 

"Either way... that you for bringing the insane amount of food your aunt,

made me over."

"You are quite welcome." Eliza replied as she placed herself within kissing distance of him "I wanted to see you again anyway." 

Joel blushed at her statement. Taken aback by how forward she was then, in what felt like the blink of an eye, she was kissing him. Starting softly and gradually growing hotter as tongues tangled. 

"I uh... I feel like I should tell you that I'm kinda getting over someone so I'm not looking for anything serious right now," Joel stated and Eliza chuckled. 

"Who said I wanted anything serious either?" She whispered against his lips "I think I can be of great help... assisting you in getting over whoever this person is." 

Joel looked into Eliza's eyes a moment, trying to discern her endgame. Then, when he was sure that she was being honest with him he kissed her again. The food is forgotten as clothes are discarded in a breadcrumb trail to his bedroom. 

... 

You let out a steadying breath before knocking on Joel's door. Your slightly shaky left hand clutching the to-go coffee tray that contained your and Joel's favourite coffees. You chuckled when you heard Joel inside, calling out to wait a moment before suddenly opening the door, looking rather flustered. 

"Pip." He said as his expression turned from surprised to confused "What are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you about something." You replied with a smile "I brought you a coffee. Mind if I come in?"

"Now's not a great time... what was it you wanted to talk about?" He replied nervously, smiling awkwardly as you handed him the coffee. 

"It's just about something Simon told me on our date last night." You chuckled "You see he said that you have-"

"Who's this?" Asked a woman that you didn't recognise, dressed in a shirt you assumed was Joel's and nothing else. Her brown skin glowing in the early morning light. 

"Oh, I didn't realise you had company." You said awkwardly as you started to take a few steps backwards "I'll um... I'll see you Monday." You choked as you fought to keep your tears at bay, but in doing so you missed the step down and went tumbling onto your backside. Your coffee going all over your arm. 

"Shit... Pip, are you okay?" Joel shrieked as he leapt towards you, stopping dead when you held your hand up to stop him... 

"Fine... I'm fine."

"That coffee'll be skalding." He said as he took another ginger step towards you "We need to get your arm under some cold water or else it'll blister." 

"Please just let me go." You choked, your resolve crumbling under the weight of your sadness and embarrassment "I... I just need to go." You affirmed and Joel nodded, giving you a small smile before stepping back into the threshold of his home "Bye Joel."

The older Miller brother watched with concern etched into his features as you left. Glancing at Eliza who was watching you and looking equally worried. 

"You think she's okay?" She asked and all Joel could do was shake his head as he replied. 

"I don't know."

...

You spent the rest of the weekend dreading Monday morning. You felt like such a fool going over to Joels to, you had hoped, profess your love but instead, you had fallen ass over tit in front of him and his date and burned yourself in the process. Said injury was now wrapped in gauze and throbbing with each knock and graze of your arm on your desk. You had spent the morning wishing you lived somewhere colder so you could hide your accident. 

But alas, it's 100 degrees outside and you were forced to wear a short-sleeved blouse. The air-con once again broke at the most inconvenient moment.

"Morning Pip." Said Joel as he stepped into view, placing your coffee down as he did every morning. 

"Morning." You replied, not takimg your eyes off your computer screen. 

"How's the arm?" He asked upon seeing the brilliant white bandage wrapped around it. 

"Killing me." You answered shortly, still not looking at the man who was desperately trying to pry any form of conversation out of you. 

After a long, heavy pause, Joel spoke again. His question finally tearing your eyes away from your monitor. 

"Did I do or say something to upset you?" He asked, his signature kicked puppy look making your stomach twist.

"No." You answered simply and he nodded. 

"What was it that you wanted to talk to me about?" He asked and your brows drew together "On Saturday... you said you needed to talk to me." He clarified "Said Simon had told you something on your date."

"Doesn't matter now." You bluntly replied before returning to the email you'd been writing before. 

"Seemed important then." 

"Well, it isn't now." You growled, your tone stopping the conversation dead.

"Okay." He couldn't hide how your aggressive tone wounded him. He didn't understand why you were suddenly so cold towards him. What could he have possibly done? 

He opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Simon as he blasted into the office. 

"Morning Boss!" He said chirpily before turning his attention to you "Morning beautiful."

"Morning" you replied with a smile that he returned tenfold. 

"Fancy going out with me again on Friday?" He asked and you nodded without hesitation "Great!... see you later beautiful."

You grinned at Simon as he left. Not seeing Joel's crestfallen expression.

Perhaps he did need Eliza. 

Next

For updates follow @albertasunrise-ficsblog

[itsscromp]

If you care to find me, look to the western sky

Here is a little birthday present for bestie @callofdudes word count:1K

It's been a year since you and Glinda witnessed your friend Glinda defy gravity and fled the Emerald city. Ever since then you and Glinda have been gagged by the Wizard and Madam Morrible to not say a word about her and only mention her by "The wicked witch of the west".

You missed her so much, the memories were the only thing that comforted you, from your first meeting to the unadulterated loathing to the dance and the Ozdust ballroom where you three had connected for the first time since arriving at shiz. You always treasured moments with her like spending time in the library where you would read each other stories... You won't be able to get to do that anymore.

Your birthday was coming up and Glinda was trying to return to some form of normality even though she now has to take up the role of "Glinda the good" thanks to Morrible.

"Y/n... is there a specific cake that you want ??" She tried to beam her usual smile but could see the grief in your eyes.

"I'm ok... thanks Glinda..." You nodded to her before looking back out of the window.

You could hear her yelling out "Chocolate cake" as she waved her wand and did nothing, she did learn magic in the years but they were only limited.

Hoping to clear your head, you got up and put your boots on, maybe the fresh air could clear your mind. "I'm gonna head out for a little bit..."

"Are you sure ?? We're meant to make an appearance soon in Munchkin land" You and Glinda both had to keep up public persona's in the name of the wizard and spread his lies and conspiracies.

You gave her a reassuring look before hugging her. "I promise I'll be back on time"

That fresh air you hoped would clear your memories only amplified them, how you could wish you would go back in time and do all those things again... Helping Elphie learn how to be popular or wanting to be in the hoi polloi when spending one short day in the emerald city. But now all of that was gone... or so you thought, cause something did pop up in your mind when you remembered her flying.

"So if you care to find me, look to the western sky"

She may have flown west from the city, so as you pointed in the direction of the city, you went west. But the journey was a little more difficult than it would be, with the wizards now spies flying across the whole of Oz, not only in finding rebellion animals but also too keep you or Glinda from finding her. Further and further you went out east and she wasn't anywhere in sight... you were now starting to lose hope, how far has she gone... did she still even remember you two ??

In a hideout that she had crafted, Elphaba looked at the drawing that you three had gotten when you were touring the city, tears fell down her face as all she wanted right now was her friends. But with the wizard after her it wasn't possible, she even remembered your birthday, in some form of normality, she took a book from her shelf which was one of your favourites and wrapped it with some string like a bow of ribbon.

"Happy birthday y/n..." She whispered to herself.

But what she or you didn't expect was for your paths to cross again, cause when you were sitting down by a tree crying in grief, she was getting food from her makeshift garden when she then heard faint sobs from further out. Placing her basket down she then went and investigated, her eyes widening softly when she realized who was crying. "Y/n..."

You turned and sniffled, wiping your teary eyes to see her... she was... alive and well... "Elphie..."

You both ran into each other's embrace, hugging each other so tightly as if you would both turn into dust if either of you let go, more tears fell from both of you as the relief washed over.

"I thought you were gone..."

"Shhh it's ok... I'm here" she gently wiped your tears as she then brought you to her hideout, out of site from the spies.

"What's been... happening ??" She asked hesitantly.

You sighed as you looked at her. "They both gagged us from mentioning your name. Glinda has taken up as the wizard's spokesperson as "Glinda the good" and he's been having me find ways from keeping the animals from escaping..."

This made her blood boil... as if she wasn't mad at him already. She then gently kneeled in front of you and took your hand gently. "I promise y/n... I will stop him" You could see the determination in her eyes... It was a sort of reassurance that made you say everything is going to be ok.

She perked up when she remembered... "Wait right here" She got up quickly and tried to find the book she wrapped. Once finding it, she then came back and presented it to you with a soft smile. "Happy birthday..."

You looked at it with such fondness as you untied the bow. "Thank you Elphaba... thank you..." You got up and hugged her again to which she happily returned it.

But you then remembered you had to go back to the city to help Glinda with the statement, Elphaba could see the look on your face.

"You have to go..." She whispered sadly, knowing clearly.

But as you began to walk out the door...

"Unlimited... together we're... unlimited" She sang softly.

You chuckled softly as you looked at her with soft sad eyes "Together we'll be the greatest team that's ever been" You sang back.

"It's not goodbye Elphie... It's just farewell for now" You spoke before continuing on.

Seeing her again lifted you up, filling you with the determination to join her on the journey of taking down the wizard... maybe it'll be your turn to defy gravity soon.

A/N: Please bare with me on this one as this is the first time that I've written in a while and the first time writing anything wicked 😰😰

[ailius-suffers-through-art]

The Box Cat's Immortality

When time shattered along the fault lines, it wasn't a clean break.

None of them had anticipated the gap to have micro filaments that held the structure in place, though, quite frankly, she also hadn't expected time to fracture in the first place. It was all theoretical; an invisible construct in another dimension, one that surrounded everything yet could not be witnessed. It was like being encased in a clear non-Newtonian resin, or so the tests said.

It was a principle discovered alone in their lab, known about by solely Dimitri and her. So, of course they explored it. If they could understand how exactly time interacted with reality, she could clear the last obstacle in her way to inventing true time travel. It was the final frontier between mankind and inter-time communication.

And so the construction of their machine began. If something could witness the fluidity of time, then surely something could break it, too. This was the hypothesis behind the FTB-1 prototype; the fundamental principle that if something can be observed, it can also be changed or altered. The FTB-1 was, at its core, an incredibly well engineered bomb designed to stress and punch a hole through time around the walls of the device. Of course, measures were taken to ensure that the human inside this bomb wouldn't be blasted with the resulting gamma radiation, but conceptually the FTB was sound.

When Bill had asked her to be the guinea pig, it was inevitable that she would agree. The machine was something she had put together with her own two hands, and the danger that came with their experiment was hers to bear. Dimitri could try all he pleased to convince her otherwise, but it was her duty to see this through. Though they may not have had all the time they needed to perfect it (and wasn't that ironic?), she was confident in their calculations.

Claire Foley was torn in three by the resulting blast.

After the detonation, her body, or what was left of it, remained in the laboratory. It was a miracle that the FTB-1 had fizzled before reaching the expected yield. Had it gone off as planned, London would have become the worlds first accidental thermonuclear test site. With the failure of the biological shields, most of the blast had concentrated inwards, evaporating the coolant and exposing her body to 2 kilotons of explosive force.

Ten years down the line, the second part of her would be found by an older Dimitri Allen. She would quickly decay, tugged by the filaments back into her own time in the milliseconds after the explosion. She was a living ghost, existing just beyond the film of future's reality. Time cooled again and returned to stability after ten years and six months.

Trapped in the infinity between seconds was the third piece. An after-image of Claire on the liquid of time itself. Like a long-exposure photograph whose subject walked away, there remained a faint impression of a person in the atoms. Not alive, nor dead. Rather, it was simply the memory of someone who once stood on the cutting edge of science and toppled into the abyss on the other side of it.

Lost forever in the moment between existence and non-existence, Claire Foley smiled and clutched a pocket watch.