#WE PREDICTED THIS EIGHT YEARS AGO

[talizorah]

not gonna lie it’s hard to be like “yay artists standing up for themselves” when you see artists fighting against machine learning and artifical intelligence but you’re a translator who has been fighting (and losing) countless battles of artifical intelligence taking over your specific field of work while no one gives a shit

[meazalykov]

the golden girl

uswnt x uswnt!reader

summary: what happened in a world where reader played on the USWNT in the 2019 World Cup?

part one (part two here)

Knowing that the call at eight am could change the pathway of my career, I couldn’t sleep. My mind spins rapidly as I tried to close my eyes and manipulate myself into believing that tomorrow would be an ordinary day, but that didn’t work. 

Hi! My name is Y/n L/n and I am a soccer player who plays for club Olympique Lyon. I am a forward who many people call the “next big thing,” since I am only 19 years old. 

After winning the Champions League final with Lyon, scoring a brace which involved a penalty, my career seemed to go in a great path that was unordinary for a teenager. 

I sat on my bed, criss-crossed, as I stared at the digital alarm clock on my bedside table. 4:38am. Three hours and twenty two minutes until I get the call. 

After traveling to my hometown in the United States, Virginia Beach, I traveled to the last International camp, before the World Cup, in order to “try out” for a World Cup roster spot. My mentality is great, my skills during the camp were phenomenal and I believe I proved that to the coaches, but I am young. 

The coaches will prioritize other forwards like Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath, Megan Raphinoe, and Christen Press first. I am aware of that. They’ve won the 2015 World Cup four years ago and have the experience to go up again. However, everyone knows that the USWNT will need to bring on youngsters to set themselves up for future competitions, so I have confidence that I'll be the one they’ll call. 

Three hours and twenty minutes later, I sat at my dining room table in Lyon, preparing for the unexpected. 

My phone’s flashlight goes off a few times and my screen brightens at the sight of my International Coach’s number. 

“Hey.” I spoke first as my finger pressed on the green button. The nervousness in my voice was present, I wanted this decision to go my way. 

“Hi Y/n! How are you feeling right now!?” My United States coach, Jill Ellis, asked. 

“I’m- Um— I’m nervous.” I told the truth. I heard a small chuckle come from the coach which I raised my eyebrows at. The tension on my end could be cut with a sharp knife. The lack of sleep made my nerves worse too. 

“Well I have some news for you.” Jill said. I swallowed on nothing as the next few seconds can predict how my day– sorry— year will go. I know she has to call other players about the decisions for them so our call won’t last long, thankfully. 

“Let me start off by saying that all of the coaching staff, including myself, needed to consider someone who is young and has a lot of quality. We were impressed by the amount of work you've put into our international camps and we’ve kept up on your club experience at Lyon for more reference. So, we’ve chosen you to be on the roster to represent the United States in the 2019 World Cup.” The excitement in Jill’s voice grew when she announced that I would be in the World Cup. 

However, most of what she said sounded muffled through the happy tears that poured down my eyes. I couldn’t believe it! My hard work paid off. 

“Thank you!” I said. 

“No Thank you Y/n! We’ll see you soon, Bye!” Jill ended the call before I jumped in joy. 

A couple of months later, I sat on the bench in France as the USWNT was up against Thailand in the group stage. It was the 64th minute and we were up 7-0. As I sat on the bench, my heart raced faster out of nervousness. Eventually, my head turned when I heard her call my name. I am excited, but my stomach felt like there was a rock in it. The weight of expectations settled squarely on my shoulders as I looked at the ongoing game. 

We are winning the game by seven, but I still wanted to prove my best to the coach, teammates, and the fans. When I stood up, my legs felt like jelly making my way to the touchline. The crowd's roar was deafening, every step closer to the pitch amplifying my nerves. 

“You’re going to go on for Raphinoe. We are up 7-0 but use this as an opportunity to get a feel of the field and experience.” Jill spoke with empathy as she patted on my back, allowing me to do the required warmup on the sideline before standing at the midline. 

I tried to shake off the doubts, reminding myself of the countless hours of practice that had brought me to this moment. The nerves in my legs wouldn’t calm down. Maybe I can use that as a source of adrenaline. 

Running onto the field in replacement for Raphinoe, the enormity of the occasion hit me like a ton of bricks. The stadium seemed to stretch endlessly all around me, filled with thousands of spectators watching my every move. I took a deep breath, trying to calm my racing heart. The ball was at the other end of the field, giving me a moment to collect myself.

Then, Julie Ertz shot the ball over the left side of the field to gain space. The ball landed on my ivory-colored cleat and I dribbled around a Thailand opponent before passing to Alex Morgan who lightly tapped the ball behind the net. Goal!

My jaw dropped in realization as Alex jogged over to hug me. Some of the girls on the pitch came to congratulate me on the assist as others clapped their hands. I didn’t take it offensively, we are up 8-0 now and there's not much to celebrate now besides the inevitable win. My first touch in the World Cup gave an assist which I later found impressed spectators. 

I glanced at my teammates when the game started again, finding reassurance in their encouraging, yet concentrated, nods and smiles. They had confidence in my abilities, even if I struggled to find it within myself sometimes. With each passing second, my nerves began to settle, now replaced by a fierce determination to prove myself worthy of wearing the US jersey.

Eventually, I found myself caught up in the rhythm of the play. My eyes were on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment. With each touch and pass to a teammate, my confidence grew and my movements became more fluid and precise.

Then, in the 73rd minute, it happened. A perfectly timed pass by Samantha Mewis found my feet. At this point I wanted to be the goalscorer, not the assist. With a burst of speed, I raced towards the goal and dribbled around the defenders who were in the way of the goal, the screaming chants of the crowd fading into the background as they saw what I was doing. At that moment, there was only me, the ball, and the goal.

My right foot unleashed a powerful shot, the ball rocketing into the back of the net with a stunning curve. Goal! The stadium erupted into cheers, the sound washing over me like a tidal wave of euphoria as my teammates ran to congratulate me on my first ever goal in the World Cup. For a brief moment, I allowed myself to bask in the glory of my achievement, the weight of my nerves finally lifted off of my shoulders. The game ended in a 13-0 win for us!

Later in the World Cup tournament, I found myself on the bench as my heart pounded at the match in front of me. Thanks to Alex Morgan and Christen Press who scored in the Semifinal against the Lionesses, we were in the World Cup final against the Dutch. 

As the game enters the 79th minute, with the score being 2-0, the coach calls my name. This took me by surprise since I didn’t believe that any substitutes would join the final. When I stood up, my legs felt like lead as I made my way onto the pitch for Tobin Heath, who had an injury earlier in the tournament and couldn't play all 90 minutes. The roar of the crowd washes over me, drowning out the doubts that threatened to consume me since I am on the right wing.

With only minutes remaining, I can’t make a mistake. I have to make every second count. We are up 2-0 but the Netherlands could easily catch up if we make a few errors, they’re EURO champions and have a statement to make for the world.

As I focus on the ball, blocking out the noise of the crowd and the pressure of the moment, the 89th minute comes along. Krieger gets the ball from a Dutch forward and launches the ball in the air towards Rose Lavelle. The girl who scored the second goal in the final headed the ball over the field again before it landed onto my feet— This is my chance. 

My feet take the ball towards the goal. Veenendaal, the Dutch Goalkeeper, sets herself up in a ready position. As I race closer to the goal, my heart pounds in my chest. The defenders close in but I dribble around them effortlessly. An Oranje defender missed her chance to side tackle me as my left foot unleashed a powerful shot. The ball grazed the tip of Veenendaal’s fingers and the ball hit the back of the net with stunning precision. Goal!

The stadium erupts into cheers as I run to the corner of the pitch to celebrate. A typical knee slide that allowed my knees to slide through the soft grass before I stood up and turned to my teammates who rushed to congratulate me. Everyone on the bench got up and ran to me as well to celebrate. At that moment, the voice in my head told me that I’ve done it. My goal gave everyone the reassurance that we secured a World Cup win for the USWNT four times. 

After winning the Bronze Ball, Gold Medal, and being able to take pictures with the World Cup trophy itself, I cried. The tears wouldn’t stop after my bestfriend Mallory Pugh hugged me as she cried as well. We were so happy, I have never felt so proud of myself and my team. 

Hopefully 2023 will secure us a three-peat…. 

part two here

[elliesbelle]

nobody compares to you

chapter 2

pairing: ellie x reader

synopsis: you're in your junior year of college and at a party, you run into the girl who broke your heart: ellie williams. despite the time it took to reset your life, will you risk a broken heart again for her?

content warnings: modern college au, cursing, angst, dealer!ellie, mentions of marijuana and alcohol, use of alcohol, sexual speech and content, anxiety attack, brief mentions of homophobia, a little bit of enemies to lovers, minors do not interact

word count: 2k

chapters: one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, fourteen

series masterlist

my masterlist

i have a ko-fi if you like my work so much that you feel compelled to tip me ♡︎

the "nobody compares to you" spotify playlist

Ellie walks in, looking behind her first and not at you. You stand frozen in place, contemplating seriously about running quickly into one of the stalls and locking yourself in. After a moment, she finally closes the door quietly and meets your wide eyes.  

You could have sworn you’d stopped breathing right at that moment. Neither one of you say anything to the other. Your mouth feels dry and your head dizzy. This is not at all how you predicted the night would go, and you know that you need to tear your eyes away from hers immediately before you’re back where you were when you’d first met. 

Clearing your throat, you muster enough courage to break eye contact and mumble a “sorry” before making an attempt for the door directly behind her. But before you can take a step, Ellie finally speaks. 

“Hey.” 

This is the first time in who-knows-how-long that she’s spoken to you, the first time that you’d looked at her this close in months. She has both hands tucked into the front pockets of her pants and leans against the bathroom door. Her tongue swipes across her top lip, wiping away what seemed to be something chocolate-y. You notice that the strands of hair that’d fallen out of her half-bun still sat on her cheek. If you were the same person you were over a year ago, you would have instinctively brushed them behind her ear. But you aren’t. 

“Hi.” You reply, meekly. 

“You okay?” 

You fight a grimace. 

“Yup,” You say, beginning to crumple up the paper towel in your hand. 

She scans you up and down, noticing the redness of your eyes. 

“That Adam dude is a dick.” 

Fuck, she did hear. 

You scoff and say, “The fuck do you care, Williams?” 

She frowns, noticing that you’d used her last name instead of her first. 

“Look, I just came in here to check on you ‘cause what that douche said was pretty uncalled for, and I assumed you probably weren’t okay after that.” 

“And as I said, Williams,” You assert, now ripping the paper towel between two fingers. “The fuck do you care?” 

“Hey, I just—” 

“Just what?” You say louder, cutting her off. “You don’t fucking know me anymore. Why do my feelings matter to you all of a sudden?” 

Ellie looks taken aback, not expecting you to get bold. 

“Just because—” She starts, but you cut her off once more. 

“I don’t need to hear anything you have to say. So move the fuck out of my way.” 

Ellie leans off the bathroom door and took a few steps towards you but doesn’t budge, planting her Converse firmly on the floor and standing her ground. 

“We might not be friends anymore, but—” 

“Friends?” You spit. “That’s fucking hilarious, Williams. You’re right. I am not your friend. I am not your girlfriend. And you have no obligation to me.” 

Those last two sentences are like a slap to Ellie’s face. Her eyes widen in recognition and her hands which were previously balled up into fists now lay flat on her side. 

Seeing an opening, you step around her, throw the completely shredded paper towel in the trash can, and wrench the door open to leave. 

The door closes behind you and Ellie doesn’t follow. Instead, you hear a silent “Fuck!” from inside the restroom. You take several deep breaths before proceeding back to your table. 

No one seemed to take notice of your absence except for Dina and Jesse, both eyeing you as you sir down. Eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed, they look at each other and then at you. Dina looks like she wanted to say something, but Jesse places a hand on her arm. 

You give them both a noncommittal smile before looking away, trying to distract yourself from the unpleasant encounter with Ellie a few moments before. 

You notice that the flirty freshman to whom Ellie had lent her jacket sat to the left of Ellie’s empty seat. She’s still wearing Joel’s (Ellie’s) old jacket and keeps glancing towards the direction of the restroom, anticipating the auburn-haired girl’s return. You roll your eyes at this and proceed to take a sip of your hot chocolate. 

Ellie doesn’t return for a while. You’d returned to scrolling aimlessly at your phone and paused for half a second when she’d returned to her seat. You pretend not to take notice of this and swear to yourself not to look her way for the rest of the evening. 

“Everything okay, Ellie?” The freshman girl croons. 

“Yeah. Just needed to take a phone call.” Ellie lies. 

“Oh, okay! I was just worried!” The girl says. 

“All good, babe.” 

You cringe at this comment. You feel disgusted that younger you had swooned when Ellie used to call you “babe.” 

Was it this embarrassing to watch when she’d flirt with me this way? It can’t have been. Did I really fawn over her like this girl is right now? Wait, why am I thinking about this again? 

You then admonish yourself for listening to their conversation. A notification pops up from “D Money 💛” on your phone. Dina. 

Glancing up and across from you, you realize she’s already looking your way. She raises her eyebrows. She has her phone in her hands and her eyes point at your phone. You look down. 

A second text pops up right after. 

You sigh and begin to type. 

Dina replies with just a 😕 and is immediately followed with: 

You take a moment before replying. 

Three text bubbles load for a few moments until she says: 

You reply with a simple “❤️” and put your phone down on the table. 

As the night passed, a few people in your group began to get up from the table, muttering excuses of early Sunday morning plans and leaving cash on the table for their orders. You’d have joined them, but unfortunately for your loyal heart, a few of your friends still lingered and they were unluckily the drunker ones of the group. But fortunately, Frat Guy Adam and Freshman Girl (who told Ellie that she wished she could stay longer and could she possibly give Ellie her jacket back on Monday) had joined those who left. 

To your dismay, Dina and Jesse have the same idea as you to linger as chaperones for the drunkards in the group, which meant Ellie remained behind as well. 

You wander down to the end of the table where your friends Sidney and Rebecca have their heads down, giggling incoherently at each other. You sigh as you grab Sidney by the arm, keeping her steady. Jesse follows you and does the same with Rebecca. 

“Best mom friend of the year.” He chuckles. 

“And they wonder why I don’t go out with them every weekend.” You grimace. 

“Proud of you for making an effort, though.” He smiles. “But are you okay?” 

“Jess—” 

“My friends’ problems are my problems. Just wanna make sure you’re alright, bud. Don’t want you to keep it all in.” 

You chuckle and say, “You sound like Dina.” 

“Hey, she’s one smart lady.” 

You sigh. 

“I told her I’ll talk to her about it later, so I’m sure you’ll hear about it about two seconds after I tell her.” 

He laughs. 

“She never tells anyone but me, don’t worry. And you know I don’t run my mouth.” 

“I know. I trust both of you, it’s okay.” 

His free hand gave you a pat on the back. 

“I know.” 

You smile endearingly at him and he returns it. 

“I’m gonna order an Uber for these two and wait for it outside.” Jesse says. “Do you wanna ride with them or catch one with us?” 

You make a face. 

“Alright, alright,” He chuckles. “I’ll holler when it’s close.” 

“You’re the best, Jess.” 

“Hey, that rhymed.” He says. 

You roll your eyes at his recycled joke. He smiles, then says to Rebecca who was leaning against him, “Let’s go, lush.” 

You chuckle as he walked at half-speed towards the diner’s doors with Rebecca wrapped around one arm. 

Thank god for Jesse. 

It was just you with Sidney draped against you, Dina, and Ellie left. You glance over at the two who were looking over the check that the server had delivered a few minutes before. 

“Assholes,” You hear Ellie say. 

“Just what happens you wanna be the responsible ones.” Dina sighs. 

“Hey, that’s just you and Jesse. I’m just along for the ride.” 

You notice Ellie drinking a cup of hot chocolate. 

Wait, is that mine? 

Glancing over at where Ellie’s seat was, you see an empty cup on a saucer. You then look at where you sat before and see that your cup is now missing. 

“Whatever, Els.” You hear Dina say. “How much is left to pay? Tara, Mike, and Astrid just sent me about five bucks each.” 

Ellie recounts all the cash everyone had left. 

“Uhh, about fifty bucks left.” 

“Fuck. I don’t think I have that much cash on me, and my card—” 

“It’s fine, I got it.” Ellie says, pulling out her wallet and placing six 20-dollar bills down on the table. 

“Ooh, look at all that daddy money, Els.” 

“D, if you don’t shut the fuck up—” 

Dina holds her hands up defensively. 

“Not my fault she used to call you that!” Dina laughs. 

Ellie freezes. 

“What the fuck, Dina!” 

You see pink rising underneath her freckles. Dina snickers in response. 

“I know much more about your ‘friendship’ than you realize.” Dina says, making air quotes upon saying the word “friendship.” 

“What the fuck!” Ellie repeats. 

“Els, you know you’re drinking her hot chocolate, right?” 

Ellie blushes harder and says, “I finished mine and she didn’t want hers. Plus, I don’t want it to go to waste.” 

Of course. She always liked hot chocolate. That was the chocolate she licked off her lips earlier. Wait. Stop thinking about her lips. 

“Yeah, okay.” Dina scoffs. 

“Dude!” 

“Hey, she’s still over there. So if you don’t stop yelling, she’s gonna hear everything you’re saying.” 

You freeze, finally registering that they were talking about you. You’d already thankfully looked away from the pair as you felt both their eyes suddenly on you. Preoccupying yourself with grabbing Sidney’s purse from her seat, you pretend that you didn’t hear everything they’d just said. 

You hear a hissed “Dina!” from Ellie followed by a cackle from Dina. 

“Let’s just go,” Ellie says, stomping away from the table. Ignoring all eye contact with you, she places your now-empty cup on its respective saucer and moves towards the exit. 

Dina chuckles at Ellie’s departing figure before walking towards you. 

“Give me Sid, hot stuff. You look like you’re about to fall over.” 

Ellie and Dina’s conversation left you a little weak in the knees. But convincing yourself that it was just from your blister-covered feet, you hand Sidney off to Dina. 

“Thanks, D.” 

“Anything for you. Let’s go, okay?” Dina says, motioning to the exit. 

“Yeah,” You reply distractedly. 

You glance at the wad of cash Ellie had left on the table, noting the extremely generous tip she’d left. 

Though being a sought-after dealer on campus made her a good deal of money, Ellie was never a materialistic person. She almost never spent spare cash she had on herself, preferring to use it to someone else’s advantage. 

You feel a little teary-eyed thinking about this, knowing that this was the influence of her father, Joel. 

Your gaze then wanders towards where you’d sat before. On the brim of what was your cup is the outline of Ellie’s lips formed with hot chocolate. 

After a beat, you chide yourself for once again thinking about Ellie’s lips before eventually following Dina and making your way towards the diner’s doors.

author's notes:

thank you so much for such amazing feedback so far to chapter 1! i hope that chapter 2 lived up to the brief hype! i'm sorry that it's a little shorter than chapter 1, but trust me that there will be plenty of chapters to come!

likes & reblogs are very much welcome AND encouraged!! and feel free to leave more feedback as well!

taglist: @lonelyfooryouonly

[updownlately]

it's been seven minutes (since i lost the girl of my dreams)

| leah williamson x reader | angst | a/n: got this idea earlier today but didn't get the chance to write till now (aka 3:30 am). inspired by 7 minutes by dean lewis (shocker)

~~~

It’s been ten months of you both dating before your world comes crashing down. You would've never predicted that a singular text would be the beginning of the end.

Driving to your girlfriend's house at nine pm on a Wednesday night was not in your plans for that day, but you didn't mind- you never minded when it came to Leah, you'd do anything for her.

You could've never predicted the eight words that suckered punched you in the chest soon after your arrival. Upon entering, you'd noticed the awkward tension in the foyer as you were greeted in, the always-confident blonde wringing her hands as she ushered you in, deftly avoiding giving you a greeting kiss. It was only as she brought you to the island, took a handful of deep breaths and started speaking did it all sink in. Unsuccessful in your attempt to swallow the lump in your throat, you felt the blood rush in your ears as the defender spoke, not meeting your eyes.

"I don’t think we were meant for forever"

It's been seven minutes since all your hopes and dreams for the future came tumbling down, ablaze, unable to be saved. Seven minutes since your tears started to silently fall, any attempt to wipe them futile as you tried to ignore Leah's sympathetic look.

Since then you'd been driving around aimlessly for the better part of six minutes- blurred vision, no idea where you were going, no care where you ended up, just as long as you were away from the blonde- far away from the one who just ripped your heart out of your chest and let it fall unceremoniously on the ground, ready to be stomped on.

Five days is how long it took before you even remotely start to feel human again. You’d been through heartbreaks before, of relationships that were much longer, but somehow nothing had ever hurt this bad, this much. None of them had meant anything remotely close to this. You'd finally thought you'd found the one- finally convinced that love did exist, only to be proven wrong, your innocent assumption blowing up in your face.

For you she was forever. You’d come to that conclusion a few months ago, when she had joined you as you sat on the grass, head tossed back, your music playing softly as you let the weight of life crash down upon you. You'd let yourself break in front of her, trusting that she'd catch you, and she did. She caught you, held on tight, picked you up, that is, until she let you fall the remaining way, all by yourself.

It had you silently wondering if she'd ever meant those three words when she'd whisper them to you late in the night. If her promise of I love you ever meant anything to her. Had the words always been as empty as what you felt now?

Two weeks pass before you see her again, your heart clenching in agony as you see her smiling shyly at her phone, a red hue coating her cheeks as one paints your vision. That used to be you, and now it wasn't, and you'd be lying if you said that your heart wasn't wrenching in pain, chest constricting so tight you feared you'd forget how to breathe. So caught up in your love, you'd never stepped back to see if it was reciprocated, and you couldn't help but feel like an idiot now.

It's why one month later you’re signing your papers for your transfer, the new year the perfect time for a new you, a fresh start.

If love wasn't meant for you, then so be it. If it's what the universe had planned for you, then you weren't going to let someone break your heart again. It's why zero was the number of times you'd let yourself love again, heart locked away for good, walls up higher than anyone could ever climb.

[markrosewater]

I just saw a collection of 7 screenshots from 2011 thru 2018 from this blog where you repeatedly shoot down the idea of doing mtg crossovers. You said "We think it's important that Magic is one cohesive game, and not a hodge podge of different things." This hurts to hear because it's verbatim sentiment that has been expressed to you about UB which you shot down as unreasonable, and you never addressed the contradiction. I know things change, but how can we trust what you say to us here?

I've never said anyone's feelings are unreasonable. People can and should feel justified believing whatever they want. My goal on this blog is to share with you my best sense of where Magic design is at that moment. Often Magic moves in directions I can't predict.

If you asked me ten years ago, as many people actually did, I wouldn't have predicted Universes Beyond. But now that I'm knee deep in it, and I've seen a lot of data based on the ones we've released, I'm a convert. I believe it is something that will bring lots of happiness to Magic players. For example, I was in a playtest for a Marvel set the other day and it was one of the most fun playtests I've had in years.

I'm a huge fan of Marvel, and, obviously, a giant fan of Magic, so bringing those two loves together is quite joyful. It really hammered home to me the power of Universes Beyond.

Trust is a thing to be earned, and I've worked hard for twenty-eight years to form a trust with the players. I've never lied to you, but I have said things that I didn't think would happen that did. Saying something not knowing the future isn't lying. I 100% believed the thing I said when I said it.

Also, I always stress that I couch future talk with the mindset that I don't use my future knowledge. If I know we're doing thing X next month, I'll act as if I didn't know that when asked about it, because it's important for me to not ruin the surprise of what's to come. This is much more like not telling someone they're having a surprise party than straight up lying, but yes, whatever you want to call it, me not ruining future surprises is something I do regularly on this blog, and I'm totally transparent that I do it.

[mari-writes]

Akaashi Keiji has a secret. One that he’s sure people might be surprised by if they found out.

He has a deep, prevailing love for classical ballet. He’s not sure when it started. Perhaps when his parents took him to a Nutcracker performance when he was barely eight years old. To this day, he spends hours of his free time watching videos online, and reads about the history of the art form. He even convinces his mother to take him to see live performances on occasion.

There's something so romantic and expressive about dancing. The way the dancers can convey emotion through their body, with no words at all—it’s absolutely fascinating. Keiji admires them so much. He wishes he could be like that.

He doesn’t tell anyone. He’s not ashamed, just cautious. Dance should not be a gendered interest, but alas, society is strange. His friends and most of his teammates already know he’s gay. No need to push the stereotype further, right?

What he doesn’t predict is that his best friend (and secret crush), Bokuto Koutarou, is apparently also a fan.

“Akaashi!” The older boy exclaims, right over his shoulder. “Is that the Australian Ballet?”

Keiji flinches, scrambling to switch off his phone. “Bokuto-san,” he scowls, “it’s very rude to eavesdrop.”

“Oh, sorry!” Koutarou plops down next to him. Their futons are close, much too close, and Keiji can smell his mint shampoo. It’s distracting. “But seriously, is it?”

Keiji shoots a nervous look around. Most of the training camp attendees are either taking turns in the bath or wandering around campus, enjoying the warm evening. Only Komi is here, casually lounging with a magazine on the other side of the room. “Ah, um, yes,” he nods. “You’re familiar with ballet, Bokuto-san?”

The other boy nods enthusiastically. “My sister does it! My other sister and I tried it when we were younger, too!”

Surprised, Keiji stares. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah! I still do exercises I learned back then. It’s good for flexibility and to strengthen muscles. People don’t know how much of a workout ballet is! It’s really hard.”

Again Keiji nods, awkwardly shuffling on his futon so that he and Koutarou are sitting thigh-to-thigh. “Would you… like to watch the rest of this with me, Bokuto-san?”

Koutarou answers with a beaming smile.

They make it a habit of watching dance videos together. Koutarou is surprisingly knowledgable about the different companies, even mentioning specific dancers and performances. It’s odd, only because he never watches or talk about it otherwise. Perhaps he’s shy about his interest, too?

It isn’t until one evening, when Koutarou is staying the night at his house, that he discovers the truth. 

Keiji is eager to show his crush the souvenir program her purchased after seeing a performance of La Sylphide two years ago. He carefully passes it to Koutarou, wondering if the other boy will be surprised, or maybe even jealous that Keiji was able to attend such a special, sold-out show.

But instead—

“Oh! My sister was in this!” 

Keiji freezes. He turns slowly to look at his friend, unsure if he heard correctly. “What?”

“Yeah, she was made principal ballerina that year!”

Keiji frowns. “Your sister… performed with the National Ballet of Japan?”

“Yeah!” Koutarou grins. “She was there for two years, until she went overseas. I miss her so much.”

“Wait a minute.” Keiji is having trouble trusting his own ears. Because it sounds like Koutarou is insinuating… but no, that can’t be it. Can it? Suddenly frantic, he flips through the program, until he find the cast profiles. He leans in to look at the lead female dancer. A familiar face in the modern ballet scene. He blinks, turning to look at Koutarou, and then back at the woman on the page. 

Intense golden eyes. A wide, toothy smile. Silvery hair, with just a hint of black at the roots. “Bokuto-san,” he croaks, “is your sister… Bokuto Kai?”

Koutarou chuckles. “Well, yeah! That’s my Kai! Isn’t she so cool?”

Keiji chokes on nothing. He sputters, enough for his friend to reach over and pat his back consolingly.

“You okay, ‘kaashi?”

Is he okay? Keiji doesn’t know. The fact that his best friend’s sister is one of the most well-known ballet dancers in Japan, the world even, is actively shifting his reality.

“So… I guess you’re a fan?” Koutarou smiles in obvious amusement.

“Y-yes,” Keiji admits, thoroughly shaken. “I am. She’s incredible.”

One year later, Keiji is standing frozen in the threshold of his now-boyfriend, Koutarou’s family home. He’s been here many times, and spent time with most of the family. But the person at the door is not anyone he’s met before.

But oh, he knows her well.

“Ah, you must be Akaashi!” Kai Bokuto is short, the crown of her head barely reaching Keiji’s shoulders, but her immaculate posture seems to expand her presence. She’s wearing a cotton hoodie and leggings, her silver hair tossed over one shoulder in a long braid. 

She’s a vision.

Keiji’s mouth drops open. He blinks. “B-Bokuto-san, um, hi! Hello there. You… um, I… well...” His words stumble out of him like dominos. He’s never felt so inarticulate in his entire life.

Kai laughs. “Please, call me Kai! I’ve heard so much about you. Come in, Keiji-kun!”

When Keiji finds his boyfriend inside, he greets him with a light punch to the shoulder. “You could have warned me she was here,” he hisses, “I just made a fool of myself.”

Koutarou snorts. “You’re such a fanboy!”

“Shut it.”

It turns out, Kai and Keiji have a lot more in common than a love for ballet. Both of them love literature, poetry and art history. Kai regales him with stories of her time in Europe—including her recent stint in Paris, thes city Keiji wants to visit more than anything.

They also happen to be quite protective of Koutarou.

“He’s very important to me,” she says, as they watch Keiji’s boyfriend hurry to help his mother in the kitchen. “He means the world to all of us, really. It doesn’t matter how tall or strong he gets—he’ll still be our baby Kou.”

Keiji grins softly. “Yeah.”

They exchange numbers that first night, and stay in touch when Kai flies back to France for her next set of performances. She regularly sends him photos, poems, news articles, and of course, updates on the Parisian ballet scene. They ask each other advice on outfits and home design.

“Ya know, I’m starting to think you like her more than me,” Koutarou pouts, one morning when they are curled up in Keiji’s tiny dorm bed. 

“Are you jealous?” Keiji raises one eyebrow.

“Hmm,” Koutarou hums, “maybe a little…”

Giggling, Keiji turns in his hold, leaning up to touch noses. “Don’t worry, love. You’ll always be my number one star.” The comment seems to light a fire in Koutarou, whose face splits into a brilliant smile as he pulls Keiji in tighter. “Promise?”

Keiji smiles back. “Always.”

//

I love the idea that Keiji gets along great with Koutarou’s sisters, and admires them (almost) as much as his boyfriend. The idea for Kai being a ballerina was inspired by the beautiful artwork of Temari! I just can’t get the idea out of my mind.

Please, if you enjoyed this, reblog and comment! It really helps me out. 🥰❤️

[akittenwrites]

Queen of Ice and Prince of Fire [2]

Author: @akittenwrites

Summary: Lady Y/N Stark of Winterfell has declared herself Queen in the North. That means war, against King Viserys, and also against Prince Daemon. But the Rogue Prince doesn't want to fight her.

Type: multichapter series

Chapter: two

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x reader

Word count: 1498

Warnings: swearing.

Part one.

A slight breeze caressed her skin as she dipped her fingers in the ice-cold water of the small lake. Winter was coming. The ground around her would be covered in snow in a few months.

She looked at her reflection in the water. The past year had come and gone, robbing her of her father and the innocence in her eyes. She was still young, her skin bright and her lips plump, but her life had taken a turn for the worse since she had lost the only parent she had left. Her brothers were too young to take on the role of Lord of Winterfell, so it had become her burden to bear. And so far she had done so with responsibility and dedication, taking care of her people and honoring her father's memory.

Yet now everything had changed. Eight months ago they had received a message from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch: winter was coming. Almost at the same time, her most trusted maester warned her that war for the Iron Throne's succession was looming in King's Landing as it appeared the King had trouble producing an heir.

Winter would be harsh for the entire realm, but especially the North. There was no way of predicting how long it would last. It could be two years, or it could be twelve. Facing the effects of war in the south or being forced to participate because King Viserys' dick didn't work? Because Daemon was apparently too unlikeable to sit on the damn throne? No, she refused to be a part of it. She wouldn't send her people to die for that. Northerners had their own war on the horizon, and it was a real war, not the product of politicking. Ravens flew from Winterfell and back for months, and soon her letters informing her bannermen of the threat that was near were followed by the summoning of the heads of their Houses for a secret meeting to discuss and agree on a strategy.

That night the lords named her Queen in the North.

Now she had to live up to the title.

The rustling of leaves behind her made her stand up, the long skirt of her gown feeling heavy as it hung to her waist. She dusted it off without turning around, the grey silk of its outer layer a gift Daemon had given her the day she left King's Landing, almost a year ago. She knew he would recognize it. He always did.

"This castle is terribly guarded."

Oh, how she had missed that cockiness. She smiled to herself, relishing the sound of his voice after so long.

"Well, nobody comes here, I've been told it's a cold and unwelcoming place, so we do not bother with such pointless matters."

She turned around with a smirk on her face. Daemon stood next to the heart tree, a black cloak covering his clothes but with the hood off, his pristine silver hair framing his face. She raised an eyebrow, questioning his choice of attire. Did he really think he could blend in dressed like that? Just one more example of how disconnected the South was from the North.

She was still impressed he had managed to find her so quickly, anyway. It was a place he hadn't visited in decades, even if she had intentionally made it easier for him, waiting there, in the Godswood. It was a small clearing in the woods, away from the noise of the castle and prying eyes. Only the Gods were listening. The ground was covered in red leaves from the Weirwood tree, and the lake reflected the grey sky above. Her long dark hair moved in the breeze.

"You arrived thirty minutes ago," she stated plainly. Then she pointed to her left. "Caraxes is six miles that way. You didn't sneak into Winterfell and the Godswood. My guards follow my orders. I let you in."

"Then I am relieved," he said, walking a few steps in her direction, careful to avoid the tree roots. "I would hate to think you weren't properly guarded."

He paused, gazing into her eyes with such intensity she held her breath, waiting for him to close the short distance between them and kiss her with the same fiery passion he did the day they said goodbye.

But he didn't.

"You were expecting me."

It wasn't a question.

She nodded.

"I had faith."

"Faith?" Daemon laughed. "Faith in what? That it would be me that would come here to talk to you peacefully instead of a handful of dragons flying around and burning you and your people to death?" His eyes didn't leave her, his brows furrowed. He looked at her almost as if he was scolding her, but something else caught his attention then. He sensed movement near, inside the woods, and his eyes darted around for just a moment. That was when he saw a few pairs of bright green spots glowing in the dark.

Direwolves.

All around them, watching. Ready to attack.

"Why are you so bothered?" Y/N responded, claiming his attention again. Daemon had grown tense, and she knew it was because he realized they were surrounded, but he had nothing to fear. The wolves answered to her. "Dragons and armies are not known for their stealth. Had that been Viserys' answer to my message, I would've received them accordingly."

"What game are you playing, Y/N?" he questioned, examining her face, trying to read her, to figure her out. "You are gambling your life."

"It's not a game," she answered, walking up to him. She placed a hand on his chest, yearning for his warmth, and felt his muscles relax under her touch. "You know me, Daemon. I do not wish to be your enemy."

"Yet that's what you are," he whispered, looking into her eyes.

She sighed, feeling him so close yet so far as they stood in the center of the Godswood, their faces barely a few inches apart, their eyes refusing to look away. She caught a whiff of his scent, smoke and musk, and had to fight the urge to bury her nose in the crook of his neck.

Why had she let so much time pass without writing to him? Why hadn't he visited her?

"I'm sorry," she said, her voice barely audible. "I missed you."

His hand found the underside of her chin, tilting her head up as he examined her face. She let the hand she had on his chest wander until it reached his shoulder, keeping her ground as she looked at him too. He hadn't aged a day.

Her eyes became glassy and she closed them, unwilling to show weakness. And yet, a few seconds later, when his lips found hers and she felt her heart jump in her chest, a lone tear fell down her cheek.

He was hesitant at first, kissing her slowly, lingering. And when she kissed back, parting her lips, desperate, his other hand grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him, their bodies finally becoming one. The kiss was long and intoxicating, deepening as his tongue found hers, exploring, so intense and drugging. They had both been longing for this in a way it couldn't be described. For their lips, for their kisses, for each other. They parted for just a moment to catch their breath, slightly opening their eyes to look at each other, to make sure it was real. Daemon used his thumb to wipe her tears, worry evident on his face.

"Why are you crying, love?"

There it was. The Daemon only she knew. It had been so long since he had called her that. It brought her back to all those times they laid in bed together, completely naked, the bed unmade and only a few candles alight. He would call her love and look at her with such tenderness her heart would swell inside her chest.

"No reason," she whispered, not wanting to ruin the moment. "I just missed you."

He pulled her in again for another kiss, capturing her lips fervently, his hands stroking her hair, her back, her arms. He was everywhere, hungrily sliding his tongue between her swollen lips, and she let herself get carried away, mindlessly hugging his strong body, trying to become even closer to him, if it was even possible.

When they finally parted, he rested his forehead on hers, closing his eyes. She closed hers too as she recovered her breath and soon she could feel his heart beating against his chest, against hers. Were they his heartbeats or hers? It didn't matter. She cherished the moment because it was just them and nothing else mattered.

His warmth embraced her, and as they stood like that, in each other's arms as the sun set and darkness found its place around them, she wished they could stay like that forever.

But they couldn't, and they both knew it.

It was the calm before the storm.

Next part.

Tagging: @batprincess1013 @lollaa-puff @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mamamooqa @queenmendes @chevelledahuman @thanyatargaryen @zgzgzh @boofy1998 @lovelokiqueen @kmhappybunny240 @dudde-44 @dankfarrikdin @gothicgay14 @ilovemarauders @ilovemydinoboi @asgardiandeadpoetsociety @how2besalty @kaitieskidmore1 @thhriller @omgsuperstarg @missyviolet123 @booksnink13

TAG LIST CLOSED. If you asked to be tagged and you are not here, it's because tumblr wouldn't let me tag you. Sorry. I'll use the tag #queenoficeprinceoffire so you can follow anyway.

[gemsofgreece]

P.O.P: A masterpost!

Given that this is a blog about Greece, I suppose it's only fair to discuss what is going on in Greece right now. We're in the mid of an interesting, maybe unusual (if not unprecedented) cultural phenomenon. And I am seeing that splinters from this explosion have even reached Tumblr.

Chapters:

Preface

The Album

The Songs

Preface

The artist that represented Greece in Eurovision this year, Marina Satti, is not exactly a newcomer. She's actually involved with the music and general artistic industry of the country pretty much in the last 15 - 18 years. However, it was only eight years ago when she decided to put her phobias and anxieties aside and claim a prominent role as a solo singer and performer of her own work. In those eight years, she had the tendency to appear suddenly, go viral with one song or one project, then disappear and repeat that cycle over and over. In 2022 she eventually released her first album YENNA (=birth), celebrated by fans and music critics, and from that point onwards she started building a more consistent career, more open to the exposure of the audience and the media alike.

In late 2023 she was announced as the representative of Greece in Eurovision. In March 2024 she released the song for the contest, Zari, which sort of shocked a large part of the population for many reasons that I do NOT ascribe to, half of which should be studied in Greek sociology. (The song has literally 0 shocking elements.) From that point onwards, an unbelievable war was unleashed against her, not only by people, but also by other celebrities and the media, all while she was trying to prepare for her Eurovision performance. Satti defended her song Zari but except for rare incidents, she mostly avoided commenting or answering back to the hate she was receiving. This mass assault persisted and continued even when she lost her father three weeks before she had to fly to Sweden for the contest.

Her days and rehearsals in Malmö, Sweden weren't exactly good either but I have analyzed what she went through in another post already. On top of everything else, in the press conference of the qualifiers for the final, she feigned disinterest towards the Israeli participation for the obvious political reasons, a move that doubled the hatred she was receiving from the Greek government, Greek national TV broadcaster, half the people and all the Israeli, Jewish people and Israel supporters who unleashed a well organized cancel campaign against her. Unlike what happened with the Belgian, the Dutch and the Irish participants, the Greek TV broadcaster did not support or protect Satti but instead forced her to revoke, in supposed fear of a diplomatic episode (for a yawn in a pop song contest, mind you).

Marina Satti and her song Zari for Greece got the eleventh place in the final, which caused confusion anew in the country, as the fans were not happy but still content with the result, while the haters wanted to blame her for missing the Top 10 but had a hard time proving themselves right for having predicted a disaster or a disqualification.

In any case, with her unconventional song and her very charismatic if a little loud persona in Eurovision, Satti managed to quickly build a small European fan community. A few days after the final, Zari started climbing the global charts (it's #16 in the Global Viral Chart as we speak, a first for a Greek lyric song).

Four days after the contest, Satti strategically released her second album, called P.O.P.

The album

P.O.P. has become single-handedly the talk of the town in Greece, in a way that I don't remember happening enough for other artists and certainly not for a woman. To be honest, I don't remember another famous woman doing what Marina did here. Part of the novelty of this album is that its main goal is not the music itself but rather expression and it is a manifesto of sorts. But the true novelty is HOW she did it. So let's analyze a bit the genius of P.O.P.:

I call it P.O.P here but the album's title is actually Π.Ο.Π in Greek. Apart from the obvious nod to the pop music genre, Π.Ο.Π. actually stands for P.D.O. (Protected designation of origin). This could be a jab at all those who hated her and questioned her ethnicity for having a Sudanese Arab father and being, ALAS!, only half-Greek, while in the meantime Marina in Sweden was vocally advocating for the support and promotion of the Greek language and Greek ethnic sounds in modern music. So, she's P.D.O., certified GreekTM and pop! This is one of the cleverest album titles I have seen.

Now, let's go to the equally clever cover of the album.

What is only seemingly a rushed design looks like a draft in microsoft paint. It looks like the colour base was black which is erased with rushed white brushes, until the white prevails over the black, leaving only a few traces of the darker paint behind (remember, she's half-Greek half-Arab and she receives hate for this). On top of it all, there are several bold brushes of Greece's trademark blue. At the center of the cover we see the title, in the likes of an instant message. P.O.P aka P.D.O. and a Greek flag emoji next to it. Protected Greek origin. Below is her name in Latin characters, with her surname in capital letters, probably a tirbute to her late father. The time of the text message, next to her surname, I wonder whether it is random, but knowing Marina, I have this morbid feeling this time is not random at all. The message is circled with more blue paint and it suspiciouly looks like something is covered under the blue paint, next to the Greek flag. Below the text message, there is an emoji of a goat. This works in three possible ways: a) the goats are a classic image of the Greek countryside, especially Crete island where Marina comes from, b) it is used as the slang G.O.A.T, which is possible given the content of the songs and c) well, it could also serve as a self-deprecating joke idk!

The back of the cover features the names of the songs with a suitable emoji each. The time remains the same, next to the last song, which is the song she dedicated to her father.

The songs

TUCUTUM

Tucutum is a song Marina had releashed as a single last year actually. The reception of this song was very interesting because before Eurovision it had almost as many dislikes as likes. You see, it was Marina's song that made Greeks remember they actually like quality music. An extremely hypocritical attitude since more young Greeks than I care to admit like trap music. And I am listening to it and I am pretty sure Marina's trap is rocket science compared to the average trap of the... uh... proper trappers. And yet the trappers get nowhere near as many dislikes. But there is an explanation even for this: Marina blends Greek, other Balkan and Romani cultural elements, she indirectly trashes the biggest political party of the 80s-90s (largely responsible for the financial crisis), she directly addresses her haters, "who do nothing but say, say, say" and states it's her time to be heard. In the music video, she is supposedly the guest singer in such a feast of mixed cultures where men drink and celebrate to a decadent degree. When Marina breaks her trapping to intersect with a beautiful melodic bridge which is the part she was practicing the most before she arrived, therefore what she truly cared to express, a short ballad expressing her dream to fly away free like a bird, only a little girl listens to her in hope, while all the men have dropped unconscious due to their decandence. In the end of the feast, women discard the unconscious men in trucks. So you see, there is cultural, political and gender commentary. Too much for a braindead type of Greek to deal with, so let's just pretend we suddenly hate trap.

2. ZARI

As already stated, Zari was the Greek song for Eurovision. The lyrics is a blend of a regular love song, her exorcising her anxiety for the contest and multiple sly references to her older songs as a treat to her fans. She did once more something amazing - the song is sort of jarring and crazy because it combines many music genres. Instead of toning it down with the music video, she went all in and created an even crazier albeit ingenious video targeting foreign viewers. This time, Marina is a lowkey insane tour guide helping an unsuspecting typical "German tourist" (fun fact: the actor is actually an American retiree in Greece!) navigate and explore what seems to be an Athens-on-drugs. This once again made "proud"(?) Greeks protest that "this is not what Greece truly is", entirely missing the point that Marina didn't even have to do a travel promo in the first place. My humble opinion is that Greece is A LOT of things and when all of these are compressed in a presentation under 3 minutes with a touch of humour, it can totally give an on-drugs vibe. In truth, Marina didn't lie about anything she showed. She was proven right again, with most foreign people loving the video and her perception of Athens, including the winner of this year's public vote, Croatia's Baby Lasagna, who praised her for having the best music video this year. Objectively, she did.

3. STIN IYIA MAS

Now we go to the new, post-Eurovision songs. This is a pure song for a feast, where the composition belongs to Marios Tsitsopoulos, an artist I don't know much about but the general vibes are bouzoukia, ethnic, folk, balkan, arabic, a bit of trap, world etc. It's an easy, cheerful song and Satti elevates it with her angelic voice. So far, so good. (NOTE: There is a lyric there, she says she is swimming in the Aegean Sea but calls for he love to take her out so she won't drown. This is not an unusual lyric trope in Greek but keep it in mind for later.)

4. LALALALA

This is a song that takes you aback with it's childlike, unreserved joyousness. It almost feels like a musical "talk to the hand while I go lalalala" to the haters. It is basically Greek island folk turned into pop and the lyrics are pure innocent happiness, perhaps also paying tribute to classic Greek movies of the 50s-60s. I don't know if Marina filmed the music video before or after the ageists went berserk against her (she's 37 and everyone acts like she's 87) but the music video for this song, intentionally or unintentionally, is the most epic fuck you to the ageists. Marina, all people in our 30s are with you!!! The music video has had more than 1 million views in under 48 hours, a huge success in our small country. She's going viral. Again.

5. EIMAI KALA!!!!!!!!

The party is officially over. Again, this album is more of an experience than purely music. In this track, which is under one minute, the album features a Greek life coach recommending some positive affirmations for happiness, love, career etc. In short, that is a jab for what Marina has to do to deal with all the changes in her life and also all the good and all the bad vibes she has received.

6. MIXTAPE

If everything else wasn't bold enough, here we are. Mixtape. The 10-minute descent into madness. Ultimately, this is what makes this album what it is more than anything else. A song that is resolutely not a song and yet everyone admits that they have been listening to it again and again, either trying to understand everything or dancing to it as if it is actually a song. The funniest comment I saw about it is someone saying: "my mom entered the room as I was listening to this and I switched it to porn because at this point it is easier to explain". XD This could serve as one of those youtube videos about "what schizophrenia feels like". There is no way Mixtape can be effectively translated into English. In short, it is her answer to all the hate (or some of it, for the full deal Mixtape should be one hour long) in a delirious way through a patch of sounds and songs. There is trap in there, a famous bouzoukia singer whose lyrics can incidentally be used as Marina's commentary for the haters, she warns and reminds of her first song TUCUTUM, saying "didn't I say back then I am ready to speak now", she says she managed to shut the haters up, there is direct address for the criticism for Zari, she's mocking the lyricist who claimed copyright violation for the lyric "ta ta ta ta" (for real), she features (surely to her ignorance) a song from the singer that called her song "cat vomit", she features other trappers making a commentary on the Balkan ways of a Greece that pretends to be West Europe, she mocks those who obsess over Bouzoukia but become music critics when it comes to her, she mentions Eurovision, I think she also makes some references to Ireland's and Malta's songs (not negative), she speaks of a man that I am not sure who is supposed to be, many more things that I haven't fully deciphered, then she has like a kid song praying to Virgin Mary for a miracle for all this madness to stop before (tw) she loses her mind and falls from a cliff, then some more stuff, then suddenly a catholic Hallelujah is heard (implying the miracle has happened) and then she returns to the kid song but her voice sounds more mature than before and she goes like: "Sike I lied to you, thanks to Virgin Mary I don't care anymore, I am off to my vacation, I don't give a fuck and BYE". I don't think this has happened before by a Greek artist, especially in such a way. And I am so delighted that it is a woman who did this. This has attracted so much interest and curiosity around her, her personality. She is THE talk right now. Hats off, honestly. We wish non-Greek speakers could really fathom what is going on here but after all, she made this for us only... and it is...an experience.

7. AH THALASSA

In another 180 degree turn, this is a very emotional ballad for the loss of her father. She ends this frankly lunatic album by allowing access to her psyche, the suffering she went through all this time and never let it show. The title means "Oh, sea", where she implores the sea to take her down and drown her (notice the contrast with the lyrics in STIN IYIA MAS, that I mentioned). The ballad is sweetly haunting, Marina sounds truly like a siren mourning. But even here we get a taste of the ever surprising gem Satti is. The last part of the song is instrumental and as the music reaches its climax, the song ends straight away, right before the highest note in a morbid metaphor that almost scares you to death. Because that's how death is, especially of a loved one. Always unexpected. (This is the only song of hers so far that her haters have steered clear from and I think this says something.)

So, this is what Greece is basically dealing with now, crazy as it is. We are losing our mind over an artist who is not new, but only recently decided to start revealing all her cards. Furthermore, Satti is about to become known globally or at least beyond Greece's borders. If eventually she doesn't, that will be because she decided against it or she miscalculated greatly. But right now, the stars are on her side and we only need to see what happens next.

[silverhallow]

Drabble request: how does Benedict earn Amanda and Oliver's trust after they found out he had choked their dad?

How does Sophie help smooth things over with his newest Niece and Nephew?

Family Feuds

Benedict found it rather odd and slightly terrifying as he stood there, in the grounds of his own home, being glared at by two eight year olds… 

Two eight year olds who looked like they were plotting his demise. There was something so startling like Eloise about the twins that had Benedict worried as he moved away from the twins and towards his sister and wife who were talking to one side.

“Hello my love, is everything okay?” Sophie asked as Benedict approached, noticing how he kept glancing over his shoulder.

“Erm… I am not sure. The twins… I don’t think they like me very much” he said

“I am sure that is not true…” Eloise said “they love Charlie and Alex…”

“El, seriously they’re looking at me like they’re plotting my demise…”

“What? I am sure that is not true” Sophie said glancing over at the twins who sure enough were glaring but the moment they saw Sophie looking over, smiled and waved at their new aunt as Benedict replied

“I saw that look enough growing up, especially from Daphne after i lopped the head off her doll”

“Well what did you do to them?” Sophie asked

“Why would you assume it is my fault? But i’ve not done anything to the twins” Benedict said

“Oh… it might not be the twins… They did ask me two days ago if it was true that you choked their dad…” Eloise said a little guilty feeling in her stomach

“And you told them no right? That it was a misunderstanding…”

“Well no… I said you did but it was nothing… but they didn’t say anything more so I assumed…”

“Oh great, so they think I've tried to kill their father?!” Benedict said “no wonder they want to kill me”

“Go talk to them?” Eloise suggested.

“I tried to talk to them earlier but they actually gave me the cut… and whenever i’ve tried since they’ve just walked off…” Benedict said

Sophie sighed “they just need to have it explained, want me to try and talk to them?” 

“Well I probably should do it… but if you want to try… be my guest, no one is able to actually be mad at you so maybe make more sense” Eloise said with a smile 

Sophie rolled her eyes at her sister in law “you Bridgerton’s are all predictable”

“I’m a Crane now” Eloise said, sticking her tongue out rather immaturely.

“Once a Bridgerton…” Sophie said, shaking her head and walking off from her husband and sister-in-law and towards her newest niece and nephew.

“Hello” she smiled at them both “are you enjoying yourselves?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes thank you” Amanda said sweetly, a smile on her face “you have a lovely home and garden”

“Thank you” Sophie replied “we have a little Apple tree just over the way, did Charlie or Alex show you it? They do so like climbing it” she asked

“Oh not yet!” Oliver replied brightly

“Come, i shall show you” Sophie said and started to walk with the twins, figuring it was easier to talk to them and explain what happened out of the way of the rest of the family.

As she walked she pointed out some of the things her sons liked in the gardens and promised that they could come over often to play with them and it was as she pointed out benedict’s art room from the outside, she saw the faces the twins pulled.

“Can I ask, why you pull a face at the mention of Benedict?”

“He hurt our father. He choked him!” Amanda said angrily.

“I know but he didn’t hurt him, it was all just a misunderstanding. He was trying to protect his sister…” Sophie said

“Why?!” Oliver asked “Father didn’t hurt her”

“We know that now, but at the time, they turned up and saw that their sister had a black eye with no explanation. They did not know about you or Amanda. If you saw Amanda with a black eye and no other explanation and only one person who looked like they could be responsible… what would you do?” Sophie asked Oliver “or if it was Oliver…” she said to Amanda.

“I… I would be upset and angry!” Oliver said “I’m the only one allowed to hurt Manda, and even then I’d not punch her…”

“Same” Amanda said

“See so your Uncle Ben thought that your father had hurt his sister, and so he was trying to protect her, they made up and your Uncle Ben, Anthony and Colin all apologised to your father after they realised and it was explained how it happened” Sophie said.

“Oh so they know it was us…” Oliver said sheepishly.

“They know it was an accident and whilst you were trying to prank her you did not mean for her to get hurt as such… and you apologised to Eloise about it and she forgave you”

“After she put a fish in my bed” Amanda said crossly

“Darling, there is something you need to know about the Bridgerton’s… this family… are crazy. If there is a prank to be returned, revenge to be had… they will do it… you will have to ask your Uncle Ben what he did to Aunt Daphne’s doll after she destroyed one of his paint sets… or your Uncle Colin about how he tried to get Eloise back she changed the sugar for Salt…”

“When did she do that?!” Amanda curiously

“The day before he married Penelope” 

The twins gasped “do they all have stories like this?” Oliver asked

“Oh yes, one of their favourites is the time your Aunt Kate bested your Uncle Anthony at Pall Mall”

“What’s that?” Amanda asked

“It’s a game, ask your Aunt Kate about it, trust me, she loves this story and it will give her great pleasure to tell you it” Sophie smiled

“Oooo we will!” Oliver said brightly, the trip to the apple tree all forgotten as they beamed as they spotted Benedict and without saying another word they ran over to him and begged to hear the story of the doll and with a bright smile towards his wife, sat down with his newest family members and regaled them for the rest of the evening with stories of his childhood.

After everyone had turned in for bed he pressed a kiss to Sophie’s lips, whispering his thanks for smoothing things over, especially as the twins declared him their favourite Uncle as they hugged him before they went to join Charles and Alexander in their bedroom for the first of many sleepovers.

[nerdraging4point0]

November Moon

CW: 18+, oral sex male receiving, language, dirty talk, oral sex female receiving, PIV, protected sex. Exhibitionism, partner sharing.

Authors note: @tearfallpixie and I had .... thoughts.....conversations. It wasn't what I had in mind but as I wrote it, something took on a mind of its own. She was kind enough to offer one of her OC characters to the story. I have been in a rut for a few weeks now, so this is the first thing that has actually reached the finished stages. Enjoy

______________________

 Rick came out of the kitchen a large bowl in each hand filled to the brim with popcorn. He was nothing if not predictable. He set the bowls down on his new extra-large coffee table-a rustic French farmhouse type made of birch wood that looked weathered-it wasn’t his usual style, but he picked it up because one it fit the length he wanted and two he liked the way she looked at it. They hadn’t been together long before Rick had asked Anya to move in with him, he had never been so sure of something in his life.

Horror, the cute pup he had adopted just the year before jumped onto the couch, his tail thumping on the fabric tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. There was a full table of drinks and snacks that Rick and Anya picked up from the store earlier and a couple bags of burgers and fries with milkshakes included from Five Guys. If Rick knew his friend it would be to order Five Guys for dinner, especially when he was about to propose something that could be considered completely insane.

Just a few weeks ago he’d come home from a long tour, finally set to be home for a full eight months, ready for some much-needed rest and relaxation. Yeah right. Rick knew better than to have any kind of relaxation, after he’d properly welcomed himself home to Anya and their pup, he’d immediately started working on his film projects. She had been talking to him from the couch in his office, slumped over his laptop clicking away at videos as he edited them, giving her an occasional ‘uh huh’ ‘really’ or even a ‘hmm’ all things to make it seem like he heard her.

"You know what would be hot?"

"Hmm?" The guitarist hummed quietly, not lifting his eyes from his computer.

"If we had a foursome with Vinny and Dana."

"Wait what?!" Rick exclaimed, turning in his chair to face her. After a long period of silence, he’d waited for her to say more but when she didn’t, he had to process what she’d said. His brain took the suggestion, fumbled it around amongst the other thoughts currently occupying its space, until figuratively tossing everything from its desk inside his head to focus on the idea she proposed.  

"What? Vinny and Dana are hot as fuck. And don't think I don't know you and Vin have fooled around before. It's so obvious." Rick sputtered as he processed her words. Seeing her raise an eyebrow at him, realizing his darkest secret had been found out. He sat back further in his chair eyes darting to the ceiling as he thought the idea through.

“Oh my GOD!” She squealed pulling herself to the edge of her seat on the couch “I was only joking; I wanted your attention you perv!” They had put the idea aside for a while talking again about idle things this time with Rick’s attention on her. But he’d be lying if his mind was drifting back to the earlier topic.

He couldn’t deny that the thought of seeing his best friend and girl get it on wasn't intriguing. Not only that, but he found Vins girl appealing. Anya and Dana were like night and day. Dana was shorter in stature, standing only at 5’2 long sandy brown hair, light skin tone, and eyes that he couldn’t determine were either green or blue. He imagined how her soft curves might feel under his hands, if she’d groan at his touch like Anya did or whine. Anastasia was 5’6 dark brown hair just past her shoulders, deep green eyes and a full sleeve of white roses on her right arm, the spaces between the leaves blacked out. She was athletically built, the muscles from her years of sports softened under her skin leaving her with a relaxed toned look.

Anya was his spitfire spastic girl, she could talk for hours if the subject intrigued her, and there were a lot of subjects like that. She was never not at a loss for words on any given subject, always wanting to learn and express herself. Outsiders might think they were arguing with how they spoke to each other during their debates, but it was all understood, they were communicating on a different level.

While on tour Vin and Rick had stayed up later than the rest of the band and crew, just talking about their girls back home. The girls had gotten close, so closely bonded they weren’t above holding hands and kissing each other on the lips occasionally. They had gotten so deep in conversation that night Vin started to talk about his sex life with Dana, while he never discussed much with anyone else in the band and crew, he and Rick had a mutual understanding to share everything with one another.

Rick had expected Dana to be shy and innocent, inexperienced, somehow the thought of having to break her and teach her a lesson made his sex throb with anticipation. But when he heard how dark she could be for Vin he was surprised. The way Vin described her she was mouthy, sassy even. Rick liked that. The idea that he could still break her gave him some satisfaction.

The couple walked through the door of Rick’s house, greeted eagerly by Horror, Dana seemed to take great interest in petting the pup’s belly while Vin made a quick bee line for the food on the table. Anya caught her friend in a hug, bringing her in by the waist to the couch. Dana had chosen a simple pair of leggings and hoodie to wear tonight. Although she matched in all black with her boyfriend, Rick couldn’t help but feel cheated, what could she possibly be hiding under there?

He'd never seen Dana wear anything outside of leggings, sweatpants, hoodies, and the occasional pair of jeans. Anya said it was something about being self-conscious around a lot of people. What could she have to be self-conscious about? He’d seen some of the photos on Vin’s phone. Not on purpose, anything that had to do with Dana and Vin was all found out by accident. He either happened to be looking that way just at the right time or Vin was scrolling through his phone passing by a saved photo of her pausing only for a minute before continuing through his gallery. Rick just always acted like he didn’t see it.

Vin didn’t know it but a few nights after that conversation Rick had gotten up in the middle of the night making his way to the bathroom for a late-night piss, on his way back to his bunk he could hear the private conversation between Vin and Dana. Vin seemed to think everyone was asleep and opted for no headphones, in whatever way, to the universe or deity of some kind he thanked him for the absentminded mistake.

She was moaning on the other end, giving a sexy giggle, maybe in response to Vin’s reaction.

“Sugar, come on don’t tease me.” He whined, his voice climbing higher than a whisper.

“What are you gonna do? Make me?”

Rick had to suppress the growl in his throat. Oh, he’d make her alright. Miles away or not, he’d have her follow his every direction without hesitation.

They watched a movie together, eating and making small talk. But it seemed that no matter how much he tried to bring up the subject he just couldn’t get the words to come out of his mouth. I guess it was a good thing his girlfriend was better at breaking the ice than he was. He wasn’t sure what she’d said, or how she had said it, but when Rick looked over in the dark living room toward the girls, they were practically in each other’s laps hands wrapping around each other, lips locked. He tapped his friend’s thigh unable to tear away from the scene in front of him, the sudden thud of Vin’s phone on the floor was confirmation he was seeing the same thing.

It wasn’t much to convince them to take everything back to Rick’s room. He’d lead them down the hall and into the master bedroom tearing Anya’s top and bra from her body the minute she was inside their door. He held Anya against his chest, her breasts in each of his hands, kneading the flesh and pulling at her nipples while he kissed the exposed skin of her neck, cheek and shoulder. He heard a sound that made his eyes fly open and search for the source.

Across the room Vin had his girl in his arms teeth sinking into the flesh at her neck, Dana’s mouth dropped open and her nails digging into Vin’s shoulder, a look of pure ecstasy on her face. Rick drank in the sight looking her over, her pale skin was completely exposed her hoodie, shirt, and bra had been discarded and he could see her breasts pressed into Vin’s chest.

God damn she was beautiful.

“Fuck, Vin. That’s what you’ve been hiding from us?” It had been a comment Rick wanted to utter more times than one after seeing photos of her but knew better than to do it. Now he had no reason not to.

Dana’s cheeks went pink when her eyes opened landing on Rick’s from across the room. So sweet. She was still so shy. Rick wanted to taste her, he wanted to make her come first. The way Vin was playing with her, it was driving Rick insane. Like a kid on the playground who wanted his turn with the new toy, he seemed to be losing his patience.

“Think Vin would let me suck his cock?” Anya’s breathy voice was at Rick’s ear, her soft moans between words making his cock twitch.

“I don’t know,” he drawled “Why don’t you go over there and find out.”

Anya crossed the floor quickly, pulling herself between Vin and Dana, giving Dana a soft kiss on the lips before turning to face Vin. Her eyes focused on him as she dropped to her knees fingers already working the button of his cargo pants.

Dana stepped back, giving her friend room, her arms crossing over her chest as she pulled her thumb nail between her teeth. She was distracted, not paying any attention to Rick as he crossed the room coming up slowly behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist letting his chin rest on her shoulder as he pulled her into him his cock sliding between the cheeks of her ass. She tightened in his grip going stiff.

“Shhh.” He whispered letting his lips trail soft kisses from her shoulder to the bend of her neck. “Since he’s a little occupied. Let me take care of you.”

He spun her in his arms making her face him he squatted down grabbing her thighs and hoisting her up to wrap her legs around his waist. Rick climbed onto the bed, letting her back fall softly into the black duvet. He kept his eyes on hers, taking in the beautiful glassy green color as he watched her pupils dilate and shrink with every move of his hands over her body.

“Would you let me eat you? I’m sure Vin does it a lot.” Ricks fingers were already teasing the hem of her leggings, waiting for the approval before tearing them down her thighs. He watched as she covered her body with her arms, hands making a tent over her mouth and nose while her cheeks turned that adorable pink color.

“Why do you think I call her sugar?” Vin teased moaning when Anya giggled, his cock still down her throat.

“You have to say yes.” Rick gave her an encouraging look, or maybe he was pleading, he wasn’t really sure what expression his face was making at this point. Whatever he’d done made her nod her head slowly, he understood the hesitation and although he wanted to tear her clothes off and bury himself between her thighs, he felt he should treat her a little more delicately. Pulling the clothes from her body he looked back up to see she had completely covered her face. He crawled up her body taking her wrists in his hands as he pulled her away to look in her eyes.

“No need to hide. I’ve seen it all already and trust me, you are beautiful.” Her face went completely red but as Rick made his way down her torso, she didn’t bring her hands up to hide again. Opening her thighs she parted them easily for him, letting him find his way between them as he licked a stripe between her folds the intoxicating taste of her burst through his mouth, he groaned wanting more but having to hold himself back from devouring her. “I see why he calls you sugar, you do taste sweet.”

Fingers pressing her open he lapped at her clit listening to the pleased sounds she made as he found the spot, she liked the most. Her hips rocked into his face, and he grabbed her thighs in order to brace himself for the moment she came on his tongue. She moaned, the dirty words falling out of her mouth all that Ricks’ ears hoped they would be.

Shuffling, the tear of a foil packet, a sudden keen from Anya and the sound of skin on skin meant Vin had taken it upon himself to move his moment along. They hadn’t discussed how it would all make them feel, but then again, Vin didn’t have much emotion when he was horny. Rick liked to think things through even now, he could feel the pang in his chest that someone else had his girl, but the knowledge that she was always his softened the blow.

Dana’s hands tangled into Ricks hair desperate to pull him off her as her body started to shake and seize from her orgasm. He continued to hold her clit between his lips, letting his tongue flick along the edge as she spasmed against his face. When he opened his eyes and looked up at her, she was flat against the bed panting, her breasts rising and falling with her deep breathing. Some of the muscles in her thighs and arms were shaking from what he’d just done to her. The pride in swelling in his chest.

He couldn’t wait any longer.

“Vin.” He looked to his friend who had Anya bent over the side of the bed taking her from behind. Vin’s green eyes looked up from under his lashes, the red streaks falling over his face. “Toss me one.”

The drummer groaned as he pulled out of Anya, she whined at the loss of him, Vin spinning around to slap her ass before digging through the drawer of the nightstand. He tossed the purple foil to Rick, catching it mid air he ripped it open sliding it down his length before bracing himself at her entrance. He wanted to go easy, maybe take his time, but if Vin finished soon, it would just be awkward for the whole room.

He bottomed out watching as she folded herself up arm latching around Ricks neck. He moved his hips immediately filling her up quickly and starting a pace that was sure to give her another orgasm. She moaned, keened and whined in his ear. The sounds making his brain fill with fog. She fits him so easily, her walls parting for him only to tighten around as he withdraws. She is just as soft as he imagined she’d be, fingers tracing the scars of her stretched skin, stripes that were no doubt earned and should be appreciated.

Under his touch she trembles, but then relaxes as he strokes her back, he can feel her shake every time he thrusts deep inside her. She is close and he knows it. The familiar shrieks from Anya tell Rick she’s enjoying herself. He was sure he’d have time to take Anya too, his ego telling him he had the stamina for it all. But as reality sank in it was evident, he wouldn’t. He felt in his lower belly that he was close, she was clenching harder around him, feeling her walls coat him with her slick his own body trembling.

“Fuck Rick.” She moaned in his ear as her arms clutched to him tight the orgasm breaking her. He couldn’t hold out anymore. Getting a hard grip on her body he thrust into her several more times before he moaned her name as he came.

The chorus of the four of them breathing heavily, smacking their lips from their mouths running dry was all the room could hear. The heady smell of musk and body fluid assaulting their sense of smell. Vin withdrew from Anya pulling the condom off quick and discarding it. Anya didn’t seem to notice him either walking around the bed to her drawers looking for underwear and something to wear.

Rick pulled out of Dana quickly making his way off the bed and tossing the condom away. He pushed the windows open behind his bed letting the cool night air waft the smell from the room. Anya’s warm hands wrapped around his waist, holding one of his t shirts and clean boxers in them. He took the clothes from her grip, bringing one of her hands to his lips before placing a chaste kiss on the back.

He slipped the clothes on seeing Vin help Dana into his sweatshirt, he was still naked, but after making sure his girl was dressed, they cuddled under the blankets.

“I told them they can sleep here tonight.” Anya stood up on her tiptoes to give Rick a kiss on his cheek.

“And where will we sleep?”

“In the bed silly. Where else?” she giggled crawling into the bed and settling next to her friend. Rick was too physically tired to care who slept in what bed. While the idea of a foursome wasn’t exactly what he’d imagined, it wasn’t a waste of time either. Now that the ice had been broken maybe there was just a little room to have more.

She woke to the faint sound of moaning.

The chill in the room made her shiver under the sweatshirt Vin had given her last night, she rolled into him seeking the warmth of his body. The window he’d opened was left that way all night, the late November air making the room go chill. Settling into Vin’s chest he was fast asleep, his arms not even moving to hold her, shivering as she pulled the blankets up over her nose. She tried hard to go back to sleep, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would force them to stay closed and bring sleep on faster.

Another soft moan carried through the room, and she realized that it wasn’t the sounds of her dreams from last night anymore. Turning slowly in the bed she saw Rick and Anya over her shoulder. Rick had Anya’s back pressed firmly into his chest, his hips rocking into her from behind, one ink clad hand wrapped around her waist disappearing between her thighs his fingers moving in and out of her sex with slow strokes. Anya had her head tipped back, hands wrapped around Rick’s head as he kissed into the bend of her neck, eyes were held shut pulling her lip between her teeth to suppress more of her moans. Rick’s grey eyes met hers from across the bed, they held the stare for only a few seconds before he gave her a wink and a seductive smirk. Pressing his lips once again to the neck of his girl. She turned back into Vin, not shy about what she saw, but disappointed that her boyfriend wasn’t awake to join in the fun.

She snuggled into Vin’s chest more drinking in the smell of his cologne, the fragrance still potent even though he’d applied it yesterday morning. She was close enough to hear his heart beating in his chest, the steady rhythm drowning out the sound of the couple next to her. Vin shifted in the bed allowing her to sink deeper into his bare chest.

“You to huh?” his gravely morning voice made heat pool into the space between her thighs. She was very pleased with herself that all she was wearing was his sweatshirt and panties from the night before. A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth before she nodded her head. “Turn around then.”

She rolled to her other side making sure her ass rolled over him in a suggestive way. He groaned when she rolled over his cock, realizing quickly that he hadn’t dressed himself after their games last night. He kept his eyes closed, hand taking her hip and pulling her close to him. She glanced over at Rick and Anya, he seemed to have lost patience with only his fingers. Anya was pressed firmly on her belly into the bed one of Ricks’ hands tangled in her hair holding her head up off the mattress, his other had both her wrists clasped firmly into her lower back. Rocking his hips into her from behind, his black hair was already falling in his face lips parted breathing getting heavy. The sight turned her on to watch and when Vin started to rock his hips into her from behind slowly grinding himself against her ass, she let out a whimper Anya’s eyes only opening a little to look her friends way before giving her a satisfied smile.

Suddenly the chill from earlier was gone, the room filling up with a sudden heat she couldn’t explain. She pushed the blankets down and off her with her feet trying to cool her already sweaty skin. Vin’s fingernails were digging into the flesh of her thigh as he pulled her closer to him, continuing to grind against her. She was soaking through her panties as Vin would move her the friction of the material clothing her sex gave just enough friction to stimulate, but not enough that she’d be able to come. She wanted more. He was hard the feel of him pressing into her cheeks erotic the length not giving from the pressure of her on him.

He suddenly stopped fingers frantically trying to find the edge of her panties to bring them down her legs. She rolled onto her back grabbing the sides and pulling them down to toss the wet garment somewhere. Vin rolled onto his back motioning for her to come to him, she straddled his lap her knee barely coming to rest next to his hip before he pulled her down into a needy kiss. Her mouth distracted he lined up, pushing himself between her folds before bottoming out with no hesitation. She squealed into the kiss letting his tongue push past the barrier and into her mouth. He already had a grip on the sides of her hips rocking her over his length pulling her up before bringing her back down. They had barely started, and she was already about to burst.

Pulling herself out of his mouth she sat up grasping his thigh and bracing herself on the soft of his abdomen before she rocked herself back and forth, letting him fill her completely. While she rolled her head back she let her eyes wander over to their friends. Anya had her lip in her mouth teeth bearing down into the skin it was turning white, her forehead was sticky with sweat and her eyes were shut tight. Rick’s grey orbs looking directly at Dana. He had a feral look in his eye and it only made the coil in her belly tighten, watching him fuck Anya with sharp snaps of his hips was a show. She looked down at Vin who beneath her was arching his back Adams apple bobbing in his throat as he swallowed before letting his mouth fall open again with his heavy breathing. She was so close, her rhythm stalling, feeling like she couldn’t continue. He sat up with her, head placed into her chest, he let his hands roam up the sweatshirt she was wearing fingers running along her spine and over her skin.

“Gonna come for me, sugar?” She wrapped her arms around his neck letting her fingers lace through his messy curls. Her hips moved faster as he spoke, driving herself to a quick release, beyond speech she only nodded her head. She looked over to Rick whose own hips started to falter, his eyes still on her, she threw her head back watching as he stilled in his movements spilling into Anya with a loud groan. It put Dana over the edge, clenching hard around Vin’s cock she squeezed his hair as her body shook with her orgasm. He wasn’t far behind her, taking her hips in his hands and slamming her down on him one more time before she could feel the warmth of his release inside her.

They fell back on the bed, her ear pressed against his chest to hear his heart thudding loudly. As they caught their breath, she heard the couple next to them whispering softly to one another, followed by a comfortable silence. The serenity of the moment lost when Vin cried out to the room,

"I'm hungry."

[undeath1245]

My former predictions and interpretations for episode seven

I started this post around three to eight months a year ago shortly after watching episode five. Originally, I was going to make a list of predictions on what's going to happen in episode six, but since it was already out, I might as well make some predictions for what's going to happen in episode seven. But then, after episode seven premiered, I missed another deadline yet again. I think it's because either that I haven't fleshed out my predictions enough or that I kept trying to flesh them out that I wound up making scenarios in my head, kind of like what I'm doing for episode eight, of which I'll work on quite later. So, here's another list of former predictions I made for episode seven. I think some of them might hold up in episode eight. I don't know.

After remembering a couple of posts speculating about episode seven, I think this episode will be based on The Exorcist due to the religious horror atmosphere and imagery. However, I can share a prediction of what the episode's stinger would be like, largely involving Nori and Khan. I think it would start out as some sort of recollection between the two during the aftermath of the core collapse. Maybe they'll discuss about what their comrades would like to do now that their human superiors had been wiped out, like maybe do some finger painting or write some books or start a family. We might also see a cameo of Doll's parents, Yeva and Doll's father (whom I'm gonna refer to as Ivan). But then, Khan gets a bit worried, wondering if they all got off too easy, and Nori will then assure him that everything is going to be alright, and if it won't, they'll figure it out together. How's that for a heartwarming calm-before-the-storm moment? Now, to end it with a scene of Nori's eyes glitching yellow.

Uzi, N, and Tessa would survive the fall from the elevator, most likely thanks to N's quick reflexes by grabbing Uzi and Tessa and then flying out of the elevator before impact, at least that's how I imagine it. Tessa would then ask them if they're alright, only for Uzi to respond coldly that they all watched V sacrifice herself to the sentinels, but Tessa would happily reply that V will be cloned back at base (where the three landing pods are). N would worriedly ask Tessa if V would really come back with her memories fully intact, only for Tessa to be hesitant of answering his question, but she would then respond yes. As the trio enters the underground church, probably where the testing or enhancement of the solver powers occurred, N would apologize to Uzi for cutting off her hand when she was using her powers to burst the wall open. Uzi would then say that it's okay, and that her powers have been acting really strange lately and is losing control over them. She would then say conclude that the Solver is taking her over, while Tessa looks at Uzi and N from afar.

I think we'll have a couple of brief flashback scenes of Nori and Yeva sneaking into the underground cathedral either to initiate the plan to liberate their fellow drones or do some reconnaissance. I have a headcanon that Yeva, while her default language is Russian as well as her daughter's, can speak English, and vice versa with Nori speaking Russian. I also have another headcanon that drones can switch to any language of their selected choosing, even if they don't know any lick of them. To tell you the truth, I have zero idea how this scene will play out, maybe with a zany dynamic between the two? The wild, giddy Nori compared to the stoic, serious Yeva. Now that I think about it, considering that the cathedral might by at a deeper depth from the planet's surface, let's say by about 3,000 feet, it could be possible for Nori, Yeva, and other Solver-infected drones to overload Copper-9's core together on a closer distance from the core itself, most likely in the center of the cathedral.

V's sacrifice was honestly very shocking when I first saw it. I've never thought that they would briefly kill off a main character like that, and honestly, I really liked where V's character is heading, especially when she finally put her trust on Uzi, possibly for her to find a way to break herself free from the Solver's control. Now, this doesn't mean that V is truly dead. I feel that it's too soon to kill off a main character like that unless it's much later on in the series like in a potential season three (hope I don't foreshadow anything). There is a good chance that she'll come back in either episode seven or eight, and I came up with a few scenarios:

Rescue scenario: V is horribly injured, most likely from fighting off all of the sentinels; let's face it, there's no way a bloodthirsty disassembler like her would go down without a fight. So, who would finish off the remaining sentinels after V is down? Either J, the defective sentinel, or a combination of both. I feel like V would wind up in a heavily wrecked, limbless state, most likely being forced to be carried by either J or the sentinel. Clone scenario: V wins the battle against the sentinels, but then dies in the process. However, as J stated in episode six, she stated that "efficient drones get cloned", meaning that V would most likely be rebuilt in a new body, somewhere in one of the landing pods Tessa and J used to get to Copper 9. There was a previous concern I had with N and V currently retaining their memories before or after death, as (according to episode five) the Solver had been tampering with their memories before they were resurrected into their clone bodies. But, because that Uzi had assigned herself as their new admin, I feel like we probably don't have to worry about an "amnesiac V" scenario. Resurrection scenario: As before, V wins the battle, but dies afterwards. However, there is a slightly good chance that N also gets killed by the Solver, and Uzi also briefly dies. Essentially, the main trio dies. Bad ending time, right? Wrong. I feel like these three are going to self-resurrect, or Uzi self-resurrects first before subconsciously resurrecting N and V afterwards. They'll probably transform into a new type of drone. I'm hoping that they'll transform into an angelic form of some kind, looking a bit similar to V's concept design.

I think we'll get some solo scenes for Doll, probably when she's walking through the lab corridors. I think she'll head to her parents' lab first. I developed a headcanon that Doll's parents managed to separate her from the Solver's influence, probably when she was at a young age. At first, I thought that they would use some sort of unique antivirus code (I'm imagining it as random zeroes and one at this point; I honestly don't know computer codes) to sever the Solver from Doll. But, since episode seven is heading for cosmic horror territory and possible influence from The Exorcist, I imagine that Doll's parents used a strange machine that painfully severs the Solver from its potential host. So, I think that Doll would try to look for the severing machine in her parents' lab, and we could also see some nice pictures of her and her parents. Either that, or maybe Yeva and Doll's father used a series of

The trio might head over to a weapons vault first, but N double-checks it to see if it's booby-trapped by shooting at it. While he does so, he now retains a serious, militant personality, impressing Tessa and worrying Uzi. Tessa and Uzi will arms themselves up with multiple firearms and blades, with Uzi carrying an actual Uzi submachine gun. Meanwhile, N readies an ultra powerful weapon, the comically large cannon we saw in an earlier teaser, of which I believe to be the weapon that will destroy a Solver-possessed drone, like Uzi. After that, Tessa heads off to search for something to defeat the Solver with, but in reality, she'll actually search for the list of test subjects to hunt down the remaining drones that are potentially infected with the Solver virus.

I believe that the next obstacle the trio will face would most likely be eldritch drone mutants similar to eldritch!J, with many of them resembling spiders, cockroaches, and centipedes; creepy crawly galore. We would see back-to-back scenes of N and Uzi and Tessa battling against the drone mutants. Tessa would get a gash from the leg, with a mixture of blood and liquid metal pouring out of it, but Tessa would shrug it off. While Uzi and N are fighting the mutants, we would then see a scene where Uzi leaves the fight all of a sudden to enter a dark, red sea emitted by a blood red sky, the same one we saw in this teaser posted by Liam Vickers himself. And then, hearing N's cries, Uzi immediately returns back to the battle, only to see that she was knocked down and disarmed. As she gets back up, the Solver appears and assists her by morphing her hands into large, fleshy claws, much to Uzi's horror. The Solver will then take the wheel and start slaughtering its own twisted creations one by one, metallic screaming echoing the church, and N watching in horror from afar.

Later on, Uzi would start breaking down, saying that she won't make it and that the Solver will finally take her over, but N implores her that they'll solve this predicament together.

Lately, there's been speculation by many Tumblr users (@haastera-001 included) about Tessa not being entirely human. For example, she's wearing a heavily tinted helmet, and whenever there's a scene when either of the drones are looking at Tessa, all we see is their reflection of the drones' eyes. Plus, from the scene when a sentinel bit Tessa's hand, not only did we see blood, but also some sort of liquid metal, probably the same substance used to regenerate lost disassembly drone parts, like when N regenerated his head in the pilot episode. And strangely, she's been doing some weird mannerisms similar to what CYN was doing in episode five (i.e. the raptor hands). So, it might be possible that she's not entirely human, and that she may or may not be possessed by the Solver. I have a strong feeling that Tessa might have become either some sort of mutated human or an eldritch cybernetic being.

After his battle with Tessa, N would finally make a crazy choice not to kill Uzi, and during his confrontation with Uzi, he instead pleads with her to fight the Solver's control. While fighting Solver!Uzi, he pulls out this huge "I know you're in there" speech, stating how Uzi inspired him to question his programming, how she saved V from Doll's revenge spree, and how she helped him and V recover back their memories. N tells Uzi that she's the greatest drone he's ever met. He then walks up to her and kisses her, declaring his love for Uzi, before being gruesomely impaled and dismembered by the Solver-controlled Uzi.

Seeing N's body, Uzi begins to break away from the Solver's control, overloading her own system in the process and blowing up herself and the Solver. In the center, something starts to reform and take shape, and soon enough, it begins to take the form of a tall hybrid between a worker drone and a disassembly drone. Uzi is fully reformed into a murder drone, as she spreads her newly mechanical wings and tail wide open. She and N share a tearful hug, and then a kiss.

So far, I came up with three outcomes, starting with the downer ending, which seems to be the most possible outcome for this series. N winds up killing Uzi (most likely with Uzi's help), therefore not destroying the Solver for good, but heavily hindering its plans to assimilate the universe. N will undergo a deep depression after this, and Tessa will try to comfort him and ensure him that he saved the universe, and all is right at the end. She then tries to offer something to ease his mind (like watching TV), but N will coldly tell her to leave and that he doesn't want to see her again. Tessa does this, but she tries to hide her tears. As N sinks into his bed (he is gifted a room at this point), he will be greeted by two digital spirits in the form of Uzi and V (if V doesn't come back, that is).

So, that's all the predictions I made for episode seven.

[qqueenofhades]

i know you've talked about this before but i just saw someone say obama had 59 senate seats and a 78 house seat majority and he "could've done anything" and i can't. when did peoples' collective memory get so shit? i was in middle school for most of his presidency and even i knew back then how hostile the republicans were to him. what is this revisionist history people are insistent on engaging in like i just don't get it. it's so easy to look back from where we are now and act like people back then didn't try hard enough and it's infuriating

"Obama could have done anything." Sure, when he came into office in the middle of a global economic meltdown and somewhat understandably, put that first, even when the Republicans had already declared their firm intention, in the middle of said financial emergency, not to work with him ever on anything and to make him a one-term president. And yet, still got the $787 billion stimulus through (which at the time was just an Absurd level of Government Spending Oh Noes!!!) and in fact managed to stop things from getting even worse.

"Obama could have done anything." Sure, for the first half of his first term where he had full control of Congress (4 months with 60 seats) and aside from said minor economic problem, was also trying to get the Affordable Care Act done. After 2010 he lost the House; after 2014 he lost the Senate. There are plenty of critiques to be made with the benefit of hindsight about how the Democrats did or did not push to change the procedural rules (something they still can't do now with a much smaller majority and Joe Fucking Manchin reliably on hand to torpedo it), or how they did or did not campaign on the ACA, or how they got punished for it, or how Obama's political inexperience and knowledge that the Republicans were going to crucify him but he still tried to work with them did or did not play into it. The point is, to act like he had those whopping majorities for his entire two terms (and that they automatically just did whatever he said, thanks to his magic mind-control powers) is nonsense.

"Obama could have done anything." As the first African-American president who faced ungodly levels of hate, racism, paranoia, personal attacks, personal attacks on his family, attempts to prove he "wasn't American," Tea Party conspiracies, and Christ knows what else, all while he had to not put a single foot wrong in any scandal, no matter how minor, for eight years. (Which he did!) If only Obama had KNOWN that he could have just done anything and this would totally happen and be fine and never be subject to legal challenges or anything! The Republicans haven't spent a decade since trying to destroy the ACA or anything like that, not ever. Why didn't he use his psychic powers to peer into the future and realize that Roe, universally regarded as settled law, was going to be overturned thanks to an orange maniac and a dark-money federalist judiciary effort! Why didn't he predict that American white fragility was going to backlash in the form of Trump and just never run for president at all? HIS FAULT! THANKS, OBAMA!

"Obama could have done anything." Because he was a wizard, because the Democratic Party and the country was exactly the same 15 years ago, because 2008 was completely identical to 2023 in its social priorities, political issues, cultural beliefs, and other material, and because we can happily act as if Trump never existed, his effect on the American social, political, and racial zeitgeist never existed, because everything is Obama/the Democrats' fault somehow for Not Doing Enough, and nothing to do with anything else, ever. Clearly nothing to do with these fuckwits and their chucklefuck revisionist purity ideology and deliberate refusal to learn or accept anything that contradicts that, i.e. basic reality and history. Nosirreebob.

[bunchofdogstuff]

A work in progress.

(( this is the first time I post something on tumblr... I hope it reaches someone! ))

(( Please let me know what you think! ))

It will start right at the North Pole.

Predictions from the distant past failed to calculate the exact point of impact, but modern technology has made things so, so easy… we can pinpoint the precise spot where the first lightning bolt will fall, even if we can’t do anything to stop it.

The sensors will go awry, the entire world will take notice for a moment. A lightning bolt? On a perfectly starry night? Where did it come from? Questions that will stall the minds of the brightest minds in the world, while disaster spreads through the ice fields, crawling so close to the floor, devouring everything on its way.

The Loathsome Mist will return, and with it, the shadows of the beings we stole this world from, so long ago that no one remembers anymore.

The Second Sacrifice will begin, and this time there’s no unlikely hero, no charitable soul to stop it as its core.

As time draws near to the end of the world, and all my attempts to stall it crumble to dust, I am faced with a choice.

I can either brave this alone, and pray to the stars that I find a solution like I did almost six hundred years ago… or I can submit, and seek his aid.

I’d rather die and take the whole world with me than having to talk with that pusillanimous buffoon again.

So I guess I am on my own.

Diary of Mustafá, the Witch. Entry Number 882.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

My heart is beating so hard, it feels like it could just jump straight out of my throat in any second now. My lungs are on fire, my neck and my arms hurt as I get up. I can feel my own blood flowing from my arm and falling on the floor, mixing with the magic flowing in the air. Green, purple, golden, red, I can’t distinguish them as they swirl and dance… and I can’t really stop and marvel at it. Not with this sense of impending doom on my back.

I try to get my bearings, after all I hit my head real hard on my fall down the stairs. The stairs! I am standing on the stairway of the apartment complex where I’ve lived for the last three years. It’s dark, pitch black in fact, and yet I can perfectly see my blood dripping and my favorite hoodie being ruined by it.

It’s a very small space, barely having any room for an extinguisher on every floor. Ah, that’s right, and I’ve seen several extinguishers already, so I must have gone down a few floors. I started on floor eight, and I am on floor…

With some of the blood on my fingers I paint the walll, illuminating some of it with the bright color of pure magic.

3rd Floor.

I fell five floors straight!? No way, I must have run a little at least… run… run from…

The sound of steps interrupts me. They are slow, calm, she’s getting closer. She knows I don’t have the physique to run nor the knowledge to somehow disappear myself. And yet I push myself to start trotting down the stairs again, no point in trying to hide from her! 

As I go, I furiously tap on my phone, sending messages to the Fellowship. It’s not like any of them can help me now but, at least they can make sure to save whatever we can from the work before she takes it from my cold, dead hands.

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx:  SHE’S CHASING ME, 82 IS CHASING ME.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: WHAT. OMG RUN, RUN!!!! O.o

jeepers creepers man: what do you mean “chasing you”???

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx: SHE’S CHASING ME, SHE APPEARED IN MY HOUSE AND IS NOW CHASING ME.

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: TAVY-CHAN RUUUUN!!!

jeepers creepers man: ok ok, calm down, calm down.

jeepers creepers man: i assume you tried to talk to her and it went poorly

xXxNoCookieLikeBIGCookiexXx: CAN’T TALK RUNNING

jeepers creepers man: ok ok, fuck, hmmm…

ケンジー・イズ・マイ・ワイフ!!!: I’M GONNA WAKE UP CANNY-KUN HE’LL KNOW WHAT TO DO

GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: shit shit SHIT I knew this was going to happen man

GalaxyTaco to your rescue!: she’s gonna come for us next guys you better get ready. 

I don’t have time for this.

With a loud sigh I jam the phone in my pocket and stop running, panting, gasping for air and fighting for my life as I reach the door of the bottom floor. I didn’t even notice how her steps were no longer echoing in the stairway, I was just desperate to push that door and look for an exit. 

Only to find her standing right there, a bored look on her face and her hand raised in my direction. The Alchemist was a head smaller than me, at least! But her tiny frame commanded a strange, powerful presence. Her skin was dark, darker than mine at least! But what really caught my attention from the very start were her eyes: unnaturally golden, wide awake and yet so dull, dead. 

“End of the line, Octavia.” Her cold, emotionless voice makes me shiver. “Give me the book or I’ll take it from you.”

“C-Can’t we discuss this?”

“You don’t want a part in this game, kid. If this is the only way to make you understand, so be it.”

Green, purple and golden, the octarine light of magic, flowed through the Alchemist’s veins and straight to her hand. I have no idea what she has in mind but I do not want to just wait and figure that out. I raise my own hand, throwing it down as I jump back into the stairway. I may not be powerful enough to cast a proper fire, but I know how to make smoke.

"GOLTHOI!"

I don’t know why I yelled, it just felt appropriate. There’s a very small yet loud explosion,  as if something had broken on the floor between us, and then a thick cloud of smoke expanded and covered the whole door. As I fall back, I can feel something brush past me, mere inches from my head. A ball of green light that breaks into pieces of glass on the wall behind me, surely aimed at my face before my little gambit.

This woman wants to kill me.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be.”

Oh I’d make it as hard as I could. As I ran back up the stairs without really thinking where I will hide from this crazed Alchemist, I can’t help but look back and wonder how I ended up here. To think that a few months ago I would have simply kneeled and submitted my life at the first chance to end it all… 

And now here I am, running for my life, clinging to my backpack with all the strength I can muster and pushing my body far beyond its pathetic limits just so I can continue pushing my nose where it doesn’t belong. 

Truly, the life of a translator really is non-stop excitement.

[mangoshorthand]

No Hard Feelings- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch7

Note: this chapter was added as part of a major edit/extension of this fic which is why it's being posted now and out of order. SUMMARY: You're Five's latest assassination target, but things don't go to plan and now he wants you as his fuckbuddy. Funny how what we want and what we need are rarely in line. (Aged up Five because things get smutty...obviously.)  Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five- Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven - Chapter Twelve

Having stormed out of your apartment, Five's getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

GIF by thisgameissonintendo

Chapter Seven: Scars

Now he knows why Lila’s been acting like more of a prick than usual lately. Since not murdering her is essential to maintaining his position as Santi's favorite uncle, he decides against doing his drinking at home. Instead, he sucks his final lime with his elbows on the bar before dropping the shot glass on the tray beside the other five. Tequila is an efficient delivery system, and the ritual of salt, tequila and then lime always appeals to him. 

“Jesus, son. Another bad day?”

“What?” he snaps, head whipping in the direction of the voice like a bated dog on the brink of biting.

“Woah,” says the old man, one hand held up in surrender, “just saying hi. We talked in here a few weeks ago, remember? You bought me a drink. Just repaying the favor.”

As Five looks at him from under lowered brows, the guy places another tequila slammer in front of him.

“Oh,” Five says, recognizing him and nodding, “Thanks, but I’m not in the mood to socialize.”

The guy, clearly drunker than Five is, (and nowhere near as drunk as Five intends to get), seems to brush off the rebuff.

“Name’s Geoff. What’s eatin you…?” the question tapers off expectantly.

“Five”, he supplies, reluctantly.

“Like th-”

“Like the number, yes,” Five snaps, irritated by the predictability.

Geoff, undeterred by his obviously forbidding attitude, sits down next to him.

“Sure. Five. Is it still chick stuff and job stuff?”

Five chuckles darkly. Drunk as it was like six shots from a revolver, the tequila’s permeating his brain extremely quickly. He finds that Geoff isn’t as annoying as he might have initially expected. 

“Just chick stuff now.”

Geoff makes a sympathetic noise as if he knows the situation of old.

“You in a fight with your girl?”

“No,” he says, “she’s not my girl. That’s kinda the point.”

Geoff looks his confusion and Five explains.

“I’m seeing her casually but she’s getting clingy.”

“Treating her mean to keep her keen, huh?” 

“No.” Five said, raising his new glass briefly to Geoff before downing the shot. When he surfaces, wincing slightly, he says:

“She knows the deal. It’s casual or nothing, but she’s sticking her goddamn nose in my past.” 

He’s becoming effusive, the liquid sounds in his words starting to drag and hand gestures becoming more pronounced than usual.

“What gives her the right to…to psychoanalyze me? To pathologize the only good thing I had- she has no idea what I’ve been through.”

“Sounds tough, son,” Geoff says, only understanding part of this, “she sounds like my ex-wife. Everything’s always ‘oh, you have a transactional understanding of relationships’, ‘you aren’t attuned to my emotional needs’ or some dumb shit like that.”

“Exactly!” Five says, pointing at Geoff, “she doesn’t know my goddamn shitass life. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t understand. All we had was each other for over forty years. You don’t just forget that.”

“Exactly!” Geoff repeats, not really listening, “my ex could never understand that I’m not a mind-reader.”

The two men talk over each other:

“-You don’t just throw it away because it wasn’t normal or whatever.” Five says, tipping the shot glass again in the hope of a final drop of tequila. “She was the fuckin’ love of my life. She saved me. She was there when nobody else was and I don’t regret a single minute of it. So fuck her.”

“...just expected me to magically know when the housework needed doing. Here’s the thing, Karen: I don’t know if you don’t tell me.”

“-she doesn’t get to judge us. She doesn’t get to call her a fuckdoll just because she wants me to be her emotional support animal. Dolores was twice the woman she is-”

“...and maybe,” Geoff rants, “if she’d put out now and again I might not have got all that credit-card debt spending money on cam girls.”

“Looking up at me with those goddamn puppy-dog eyes and she thinks she can…she thinks she can make that all go away? Like it never mattered?”

They both stop talking at the same time, both of them having caught up with some of the contents of what the other said. There’s a brief moment in which they look at each other, confused.

“Well…thanks for the shot,” Five said, not wanting to hear any more about Geoff’s cam-girl debt. 

“No problem.” says Geoff, clearly deciding that the mental wherewithal to unpack how such a young man could have had a 40 year relationship with a sex doll is beyond him, “bye then.”

He decamps quickly, not looking back.

After the brief interruption, Five turns his attention back to the task at hand: getting fifteen flavors of fucked up.

“Hey- you,” he says to the bartender, “will you do me a double tequila and ginger ale?” 

The bartender looks over at Five and the several empty shot glasses in front of him. “I think you’ve had enough. Your ID says you’re over twenty-one, and that’s fine, but I’m not serving you any more.You’re gonna end up having your stomach pumped at this rate.” Five tries to summon the wit needed to persuade the guy, but finds it’s missing after the sudden influx of alcohol to his brain. “Ah…well fuck you.”

He blinks with surprising accuracy given the booze and emerges, swaying, behind the bartender. He grabs an opened bottle of scotch and gives him the finger before disappearing again. 

Out on the street, he shivers in the sudden blast of chilly December air. Drinking out in the open isn’t exactly a problem for him: it’s where he’s done most of the drinking in his life. In the apocalypse, drinking alcohol was a rare godsend. It represented brief moments of respite: a break from obsessive reading, calculation and fight for survival. Alcohol even gave him sweet, dreamless sleep: something he learned to value above almost anything else.

And throughout it all, she’d been there. His angel, his saving grace: Dolores. She’d been there when he was thirty and sure he was going to die of an infection, she’d been there when he was forty-two and had the most severe of his nervous breakdowns. She’d been there through the good and the bad, and she’d borne it all with her Mona Lisa smile.

He takes off his tie and undoes a couple of shirt buttons as he walks, not knowing where he’s walking to. He’d clung to her; a lifebuoy in stormy oceans In return, she’d kept him afloat. Their love was a deep-rooted thing and, in itself, terrifying. In his fractured, beleaguered brain, she spread and clung, filling the gulfs, digging into the sinew and creating new, if diseased, pathways. His love for her was so essential to his sanity, so entwined in the basest part of his brain, that there was a time he thought she could never be extracted, even if he wanted her to.

At random, he turned down a sidestreet and then down the sort of alleyway he envisioned Klaus inhabiting during the worst of his addiction With numb hands, he twisted the lid off the whisky and took a long swing, smacking his lips appreciatively. 

He left her behind when he first got back because he felt himself come full circle: once again, he was a young boy in a strange world. He felt their lifetime together could end poetically...and she had always appreciated poetry. Leaving her behind in the department store had attractive symmetry: her back with her friends and him back with his family…but he’d anticipated visits. He hadn’t imagined skipping between timelines, encountering more apocalypses and ending up somewhere similar but entirely different, where that department store didn’t even exist.

He lowers the whisky bottle and slides down the wall, back leaned up against it and legs splayed in front of him.

Dolores didn’t even speak in his head anymore. 

Before, when he was apart from her, he had a direct line to her consciousness. The part of his mind reserved for her could communicate easily with the rest of him. When they were together, he liked to talk to her out loud, but he didn’t really need to: they could have entire conversations without either of them needing to speak a word. She simply wasn’t there now: at some point in the last six years of contact with other people, she’d faded into nothing.

He raises the bottle to his lips, inhales the smoky, molasses smell and relishes in the precious oblivion it promises.

An improvised fuckdoll. A fuckdoll, you called her?

His teeth work furiously at his lower lip.

“Fucking bitch,” he murmurs, inbetween deep gulps of whisky.

“Please! S’still Thursday.”

You awake suddenly, eyes wide. It’s him. He’s outside in the hall, knocking loudly and insistently.

“Please….please,” he begs, “c’mon…it’s Thursday for like ten more minutes.”

Cautiously, you get to your feet, grabbing your robe from the back of your bedroom door, wrapping it tightly around yourself and creeping out into the hall. You can hear him moving around in the hall: his heavy movement sliding against your door. 

“Please. I’m sorry. Pleeeaase.”

He doesn’t sound like himself. 

Briefly, you consider just ignoring him. You could pretend you never heard him and wait for him to leave. You waver on the cusp of indecision. 

Voice shaking, you call out, “Go away, Five.”

“Please…I won’t blink in but please… oh shit, I couldn’t blink in. But please, talk to m-” he cuts himself off with a dry heave.

Maybe it’s his increasing volume, maybe it’s the thought of what your neighbors will think, after this racket at ten to twelve, only for the whole hallway to smell of puke in the morning. Whatever it is, you open the door.

He all but falls through it, catching his balance at the last minute and stepping slightly back into the hallway, waiting to be formally admitted. 

“m’sorry”

He looks entirely and absolutely awful.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” you hiss, sticking your head out and taking a furtive look down the hall.

He sways, following your gaze as if expecting to see onlookers gathered. If his hair was mussed before, now it’s a disaster; some sticks up at odd angles and yet more is plastered to his face. His tie, waistcoat and left shoe are gone. His shirt is untucked and unbuttoned to just above his nipples. His face, though still handsome, looks slack, his eyes unfocused. He holds a bottle of scotch by the neck with less than a finger’s width left in the bottom.

“Shit.” you mutter, under your breath.

He smells so strongly of the whisky that it hangs in a miasma around him. 

“I need to pee,” he says, like a kid in school. You regard him for just one more moment before standing aside with an angry exhale, now just happy to get him off your doorstep. Better he be in here embarrassing himself than being out there embarrassing you. 

“Thank you,” he says. He stops a second, facing you in the doorway. His eyes are bloodshot:

“Your eyes are a lot like hers, you know.”

You’re not sure what to do with this information.

“How much have you had to drink?” you ask, worried, as he crosses the threshold, “have you drunk that whole bottle?”

“Nah. It was only…only half…maybe three quarters full. I only had that and some tequila.”

His words blur together. 

“How much tequila?”

He steps past you. At his first attempt he walks into the bathroom door frame, making it through on the rebound. You hear him urinate, muttering incoherently under his breath. 

“How much tequila have you had?” you ask, raising your voice to follow him through the bathroom door.

“Only two shots…or maybe like, six?”

“In…” you check the time incredulously, “under two hours?”

“M’fine.” he says, sounding more his age than usual: every inch the gruff old man.

Rolling your eyes, you go as if to wait for him on the couch, but then you hear a crash, a short yell and more retching.

“Five?” 

Yet more retching is the only response.

“Okay, I’m coming in.”

You push the door, still ajar, and find him kneeling with his head in the toilet bowl with vomit splattered on the cistern and toilet seat. He can barely draw breath in between bouts of vomiting. His whole body heaves with the force of the mostly-liquid mush surging out of him. 

You hover, unsure what to do. Him vomiting is probably good, right? Listening to his pained groans is difficult. As much as he terrified you tonight, hearing him in real discomfort tugs at you. Your hand hovers for a moment as you consider laying it comfortingly between his shoulder blades, but something stops you.

 When, at last, he subsides into watery gasps, you lean and flush the toilet.

“God…I’m so sorry.”

He falls back onto his heels. One hand still holds the bottle, standing upright on your bathroom floor. He looks up at you, chin caked in puke. The mixed smells of scotch, piss and bile are disgusting. You shake your head.

“Take off your clothes.”

He giggles drunkenly.

“This is hardly the time!” 

“Shut up and get in the shower.”

He laughs again and stands up, swaying. You catch his bicep and steady him.

“Whoops” he says, steadying himself with difficulty, “thank you m’dear.”  

He’s being ironic, but the use of this endearment makes you frown.

He manages his shirt and shoe alone, but needs to put a hand on your shoulder for balance to remove his trousers and underwear.

You turn on the shower for him and help him take the wobbly step over the side of your bathtub.

“Shampoo is next to you. Make sure you wash everything. You stink.”

“Yessirrr,” he slurs.

You draw the curtain and kick his clothes to one side. With a sigh, you turn to the cupboard beneath the sink and dig out your cleaning stuff: the heavy-duty antibacterial variety. You clean the floor and the toilet, trying not to puke yourself at the smell. As you work, you can hear Five stumbling in the shower.

What the fuck are you doing here? Here you are, cleaning the vomit of a man who screamed in your face today, someone who you had not-unreasonable worries could murder you if he chose. A man who trashed your apartment, who treated you like shit, who never even held you after he fucked and degraded you.

A small clatter and a whisper.

“Shit.”

He’s dropped the shampoo. Not wanting him to attempt to bend over, make his head spin and vomit again, you remove one of your latex gloves and lean over the bath to pass it to him. 

“Th-nks.” he slurs, face and hair covered in suds. 

He tries to take it off you, but his reactions are too shoddy, especially with the addition of soap on his hands, and he drops it again with an identical clatter.

“Shit,” he says, again, as if faced with an impenetrable problem. 

“Just leave it.” you say, firmly, “you got plenty on you.”

“Yeah, okay,” he replies, sounding thankful that this insurmountable issue has been solved for him. 

You finish up your cleaning and close the toilet lid, using it as a seat whilst you wait for him to finish in the shower. Once or twice, you’re sure you catch him sing-humming a couple of bars of Cher’s If I Could Turn Back Time. You certainly hadn't imagined any of this knelt on the floor with his gun to your head.

“You nearly there?” you ask, searching for a spare toothbrush.

“Yup.”

A few seconds later, the water shuts off and he opens the shower curtain. As he does so, he gives a small hand gesture as if to say ‘ta-da’. You can’t help but laugh at this with him standing there, looking so pathetic.. 

After getting him dried, his teeth cleaned and his underwear back on, you shepherd him into the living space and onto the couch. The water seems to have sobered him up slightly.

“I don’t deserve you.”

He tries to take your hand, but you avoid his touch, instead throwing the blanket over him.

“No, you don’t.”

He lies down. You put a full glass of water on the coffee table and a basin on the floor near his head, just in case. He looks up at you.

“She did…challenge me,” his eyes appeal, begging you to understand, “i-in the ways I could imagine.”

He takes a few sob-like breaths before continuing

“She kept me sane…more or less.”

You sit cross-legged in front of the couch.

“I know- I know how it sounds. But she was real. She made me...laugh. Y'know, take myself a little less seriously? She didn’t always agree with everything I said. She wasn’t some…Stepford wife.”

He turns his face into the couch cushion, his voice muffled now.

“She’d kill me if she knew what I did today.”

You wait. He’s not done and you can sense it.

“But the love was- is - real. The grief is real. I know what a shrink would say. I know that I projected my conscience onto an…an object. But I love her. I love her and I miss her every day. I felt like I could fuck you and not betray what we had, but I couldn’t hold another woman like I held her.”

You can’t help now but pity him. Your anger and resentment ebb away as you watch him, hiding his face in your couch. You know how much this cost him to say. For once he looks like the lost, lonely boy of so long ago.

“She sounds very special.”

“She was”

“And,” you hesitate, “I’m no shrink, but if she was ‘just’ part of you, then…isn’t that good?”

He can’t unpack this. Maybe it’s the drink, maybe not. You try to explain.

“She sounds sweet and loving and she stopped you going mad. And that…that’s all inside you . You and she did that together. You can’t lose her if she never fully left. It means you have all that love to share. The love you have for her and the love she had for you. If she was loving, then so are you.”

“You're getting a little ‘kumbaya’, don’t you think?” Then, as his characteristic cynicism fades, “Thanks.”

You stand up.

“I have work tomorrow. Sleep on your side just in case you puke again. I’d rather avoid having someone who looks like a teenager choking to death on my couch.”

“ ‘kay,” he mumbles, eyes already closing as he shifts, “she always said I drink too much.”

“She was right.”

Friday morning. You intend to let him sleep, but when you enter the living room he’s not there. The blanket is folded neatly on the couch, the bowl and water glass clean and drying on your draining board.

He’s cleaned up the glass from the vase and your destroyed TV is gone. In its place is a note:

New TV arrives tomorrow. Sorry again.

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03.  Here is a link to the whole series

[generationlosscorkboard]

Dream interpretation is certainly something, and it's taking it's time-

So I'm just gonna do a quick side review of current information and my predictions:

So far we have the following characters known to us

- The writer (who I've been calling Chronos)

- Jay (previously assumed she/her but I believe those belong to-)

- Mary (assumably Chronos' therapist)

- Chronos's boss (like, a million years old)

- Chronos' family, and dog

- XXXX (the "<- nevermind" one. I'm assuming that this is a person but who knows)

Stuff we know:

Something happened eight months ago and Chronos is trying their absolute best to ignore it. (I suspect X has something to do with it).

Chronos is having weird dreams, but is purposely ignoring their signicance (linked to right month ago event)

We may be affecting said dreams via the polls

they work at a tech place, one that specifically deals with fixing stuff, like VCR units

they do NOT work 6 jobs (they just had their job starting an hour earlier- 6 jobs would probably be more nightmarish than their dreams)

the year is 19XX, though very likely post-1972, cause of the mention of VCR unit. The fact they call some of the stuff like VCR units as "old" it's been a reasonable time since 1972. Sooo... 90s? Course, time could just be real friggin weird-

The polls has some strange influence over Chrono's reality. Specifically, messages through radios and such. (And a lil bit of dream stuff)

My current predictions of what is and is to come:

Chronos is gonna lose their family and the dog is gonna die (Yeah.....)

Jay may also die, and it will be directly because of Chronos actions. because I predict it so. (and it will be incidentally, but yeah.)

Chronos is gonna have to stop ignoring whatever happened eight months ago, but will in doing so is discover something super f--ed up about their reality (if they haven't seen a glimpse of this already) and how much of a lie it is and it's gonna make them go insane-

Mary and Chrono's boss aren't going to be super important, Mary may be mentioned again, but she won't play a major part.

and this final one is just entirely based off this fact:

I once designed an au world in which people were unaware of the fact they're living in dome cities and outside that is an absolutely apocalyptic world where the sun exploded and it's held together by magic and fantasy duct tape (it's a fantasy world, so ignore those elements) and yeah dome people don't know until one scientist realises the sky is like- super off. doesn't make sense mathematically or astrologically. And they go insane!

so if it turns out that they sky is f-ed and/or they're in a DOME CITY/TOWN (or something similar) I'm going to cry again because this will be the third time Chronos/Ranboo/GenLosers have apparently been on the same wave length as me-

(which is also just kinda the Truman show but I promise it's way more than that)

-----(major timeskip)-----

Oh HI THERE! the prior post was written a while ago, but I ended up taking an impromptu step back from everything whislt it was quiet- sorry about that!

Anyways, here it is for you now. I'd best also finished that third dream theory huh! While it's still qui- AHHAHA you think I'd tempt fate like that? Nooooooo. Noooo thank you.

[mariacallous]

Sometimes the most obvious questions are the best. In the case of the Conservatives, the most obvious question is so glaring that one wonders why Tory politicians don’t ask it ten-times a day before breakfast: why don’t they move to the centre?

The opinion polls are predicting a Tory rout on the scale of 1906, 1945 or 1997.

Surely in the interests of preserving the Conservatives as a fighting force the party must compromise to limit its losses to Labour. Here are a couple of compromises that occur to me. They make perfect political sense until you realise that conservatism has been so radicalised that compromise now feels like treason.

First, health. When we remember the suffering of the early 2020s, we will remember covid, of course.

But we will also remember the millions on NHS waiting lists, the elderly left for hours until ambulances arrive, the cancelled operations, the sick who would work if they could be treated but cannot find a doctor, the explosion in mental illness, the needlessly prolonged pain, the needlessly early deaths.

The Conservatives ought to be doing everything they can to improve the health service before polling day – out of a reptile-brain survival instinct if nothing else.

They will not do it because in British conservatism’s ever-diminishing circles health is not a concern.

The dominant Conservative factions want a right-wing policy offer of tax cuts and immigration controls. Not one of the party’s leaders has discussed how the increase in life expectancy means the demands on the NHS of an ever-larger pensioner population make tax cuts unaffordable. Nor have I heard honest discussion of how the need for foreign health and care workers to fill the gaps in provision makes immigration essential.

Rather than face up to the impossibility of Thatcherite economics in the 21st century they prefer to change the conversation and look the other way.

Let me offer a second example, which I think Brits will soon be obsessing about.

After years of delays Brexit Britain is finally imposing border checks on food imports from the European Union.  Wholesalers and retailers predict that bureaucratic costs and the need for veterinary and phytosanitary checks will lead to continental producers deciding to sell their goods elsewhere. Price rises and food shortages will follow.

What kind of government in an election year, of all years, wants empty shelves?

A Conservative kind of government appears to be the answer. The sensible move would be for the Conservatives to follow Labour’s policy of striking a deal to stick to EU standards and ease bureaucracy at the border.  That would mean the UK following European food regulations, as EU ambassadors have made clear.

But compared to dear food and empty shops, who the hell cares about that?

Tories care. Brexit is their King Charles head, their reason for being, their obsession.

David Frost, who negotiated the UK’s disastrous exit agreement with the EU, wrote an unintentionally revealing paragraph last week which encapsulated the ideological capture of British Conservatism.

“The Conservative Party owns Brexit. Whether ministers like it or not, or maybe even wish it hadn’t happened, it’s the central policy of the Party and the government. They must be prepared to defend and explain it – to show why it’s so important that Britain is a proper democracy once again. For if voters come to believe Brexit is failing, then the Conservative Party will inevitably fail too.”

There you have it. Brexit is the Conservative party and vice versa.

What a distance we have come! In 2016, a mere eight years ago, the Conservative party’s leader and most of its MPs supported the UK’s membership of the European Union. Eurosceptics posed as mild-mannered people. They promised that leaving the EU would not mean leaving the single market .

But then leave won the 2016 Brexit referendum and set us off on a spiral of radicalisation, which was instantly familiar to those of us who grew up on the left. 

Here is how it worked on the left in the 20th century.  You would be in a meeting where everyone agreed to a leftist policy: say that the government should encourage banks to give micro loans to poor people to keep them out of the hands of loan sharks.

Everything seems fine until an accusatory voice accuses all present of being sellouts because they do not believe in nationalising the banks,

Or today, after the great awokening, an academic department will propose reasonable measures to check that they are not unconsciously discriminating in their application process, only to be told that, if they were truly concerned with justice, they would decolonise the curriculum and purge it of “white” concepts such as truth and objectivity.

The near identical radicalisation of the right has been more serious because the right has real power.

Here is how its spiral into Tory Jacobinism went.

After winning the Brexit referendum in 2016, retaining the UK’s membership of the single market and the customs union suddenly became wholly unacceptable. They had to go.

As the ideological temperature rose, Theresa May’s attempts at compromise became sellouts, judges became enemies of the people, and the only acceptable way to leave became Frost and Johnson’s impoverishing hard Brexit.

We now have a new Tory ideology: “Brexitism.” It is a style of swaggering bravado and a bawling loud-mouthed way of doing business that goes far beyond the UK’s relations with the EU.

The catastrophic premiership of Liz Truss was “Brexitist”. She crashed the economy because she believed she was right to ignore the warnings of the Treasury, Bank of England and Office for Budget Responsibility.

What true Brexit supporter trusts experts, after all?

Brexit showed that you did not need them.  All you needed was the will to impose a radical agenda and then the world would accommodate itself to your desires.

In retrospect, 2016 plays the same role for the radical right of 21th century Britain that 1917 played for the British radical left in the 20th. The fluke communist takeover of Russia in 1917 convinced hundreds of thousands over the decades that revolution could succeed in the UK, even though communism never stood a chance in this country.

The fluke leave win of 2016 has had an equally mystifying effect. Because radical right politics succeeded in one set of circumstances, its supporters assumed they would succeed in all circumstances.

Nowhere in right-wing discourse do you hear suggestions that the Conservative defeat might be softened if the government appealed to the majority of voters. Instead, the right says that the only way to save the right is for the right to move rightwards and become more rightly right wing.

Once again, the parallels with the communist movement to people of my age scream so loudly they are deafening.

To quote the weirdest example. A few weeks ago, an anonymous group of wealthy men calling themselves the Conservative Britain Alliance spent about £40,000 on opinion polling, and gave the results to the Daily Telegraph. They showed the Conservatives were heading for a landslide defeat, as so many polls do.

But the spin put on it by the Conservative Britain Alliance’s frontman Lord Frost (again!) was that the Tories must move to the right to attract Faragist voters, not to try to stem the growth of Labour support.  

A further release from the anonymous group of wealthy men added to the impression of a right wing living in the land of make believe.

They produced findings that showed the Conservatives could win if Sunak were replaced by a hypothetical Tory leader. This imaginary figure was a political superhero who would be strong “on crime and migration” (naturally) but also had the superpower to “cut taxes and get NHS waiting lists down” at the same time.

Lower taxes and better public services all at once in a wonderful never never land.

My guess is that it will take three maybe four election defeats to batter the delusions of 2016 out of the Conservative party.

Perhaps no number of defeats will suffice, and Brexitism will be Toryism’s final delirium.