#and the most i could find is One (1) show in mexico and One (1) in brazil

[cosmicheromp3]

i'm a tswift hater because it's so much fun but the fact that she's never in her ENTIRE career done a latin american tour (practically never having come here at all) would make me furious if i were a fan

[reidrum]

the prophecy part 1:

cards on the table, mine played out like fools in a fable | s.r.

A/N: trying something new…..this one’s been on my mind for too long and the angst hurt too good. sorry in advance ! perhaps a part 2 who’s to say ..,,,..,. ?

cw: bau!fem!reader, spoilers for prison arc, implied talks of SA (referring to when lindsey doses spencer in mexico), maeve donovan, just angst bro this doesn’t end well

summary: you and jj accompany spencer to cat’s correctional facility to play her games, except there’s more than one loser

wc: 2.1k

part 2

——————————————————————————

Cat Adams’ taunts and demands have led Spencer, JJ, and you to visit her in her correctional facility to play whatever game she has for him. Emily had you and JJ go with him given his erratic state from just being released, in hopes that you both could regulate and monitor the whole meeting.

You and JJ watch Spencer walk in stoically, sitting down across from Cat as she smiles at him. He angrily demands for his mother’s location, but she gets upset and tells him that he doesn’t get to treat her like a criminal. She only agrees to tell him the location if he plays her game, and figures out the secret she knows about Spencer.

Spencer’s brain works overtime to figure out what he’s missing, what Cat could possibly be holding against him that would make him deny the truth of it. He runs through all the scenarios; Spencer being able to now understand how it feels to have a parent used as a pawn, Cat wanting him to admit his love for her. But she shakes her head and reveals that a clue was left in a scrapbook in Spencer’s apartment.

You remember you took a picture of it when you went with Spencer to scope it out, and pulled it out to show JJ.

“Is that an X and a Y?” She ponders, “What could that mean?”

“I think it’s…” You stop halfway, realizing what it means. Your face drops and you look back in the room to watch Spencer come to the same conclusion.

“We’re pregnant!” Cat sings.

You and JJ look at each other in shock, the blonde’s voice slowly drowning out as you sink further into the Cat shaped hole. You vaguely hear her mention going to the guard to find her medical records, but all you can think about is how she could be bearing Spencer’s child.

Spencer and you had been together for a little over two years now. While still in the relative early stages, a lot about your relationship had been figured out and solidified. It was the most secure you’d ever felt with anyone, and despite the road bumps with Mexico you felt that you both came through it as well as any couple would in that situation.

You loved Spencer, and Spencer loved you. Right now was just another one of those road bumps, just like Mexico. That’s what you needed to tell yourself.

JJ bursts through the door with the medical documents, “I got them.” breaking you out of your spiral. You both anxiously look at the paper to find a little (+) sign ticked next to the pregnant box.

Cat Adams really was pregnant. You think you could be sick, you feel JJ’s hand grip your arm in an attempt to tether you back down, but it’s a futile effort. Your brain has already taken the information and ran a billion different directions with it, each coming up with a more crazy conclusion.

You stare blankly into the interrogation room as Spencer vehemently denies the child being his, denying any such way that it could even be his. The disbelief is ruling his words as he shuts down any theory that gives it truth, until Cat reminds him of the heavy dose he was given in Mexico. It hit him then, if he could barely remember the third person in that room, he had no bearing on whatever else transpired.

Spencer tries not to let the anxiety and shock show on his face as he sits down to face Cat in the eyes, “How did you do it?”

“I gave Lindsey very specific instructions to get you in the mood.”

“She pretend to be you?”

“Why, would that have worked?”

“No.” he says sternly.

She pauses, ego clearly bruised, “Yeah, I know. I know. Believe me, I know exactly where I stand on the Spencer Reid "Hot or Not" list. I told her to pretend to be Maeve. Maeve Donovan, who had her brains blown out right in front of you before you two could even kiss.”

Spencer’s face falls. No, he thinks, no no no. He looks back at the one way window behind him, knowing very well he can’t see you but you’re watching everything unfold disastrously.

Your heart drops so fast it could have very well been seismic. To your horror, Cat continues.

“I thought about telling her to pretend to be your little BAU girlfriend,” she chuckles, “But then I realized, you only had one love of your life. and you won’t let anyone else measure up.” She leans in closer, “By the way, I know that you still think about Maeve when you’re, you know, with your little crime fighter over there. But don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.” She gives an over exaggerated wink to the window.

Spencer feels like he’s seeing white, anger coursing through his body as the reality of his situation comes to a head. He’s definitely not thinking when he pushes the table aside harshly, grabbing Cat by the collar and pushing her against the wall. He’s only able to stop when JJ is beside him suddenly attempting to pull him back, reminding him that she’s pregnant.

His fists are clenched and without a second thought he storms out of the room, his tunnel vision taking him right past you and JJ.

JJ doesn’t know what to do, she looks back into the room to see Cat smirking to herself, and god if she didn’t have morals she’d finish what Spencer started. She thinks it’s wise to go after Spencer and check on him, knowing that Cat’s timer is still ticking and the faster he gets back in there the sooner they can find his mother.

But then she looks at you and suddenly her feet are rooted next to yours.

She lays her hand on your shoulder and gently speaks, “Hey, I’m right here okay?”

You nod mindlessly, hoping you can keep the ocean of tears at bay with whatever resolve you can muster. She squeezes her hand at your acknowledgment and doesn’t move.

How is she supposed to even comfort you? How are you supposed to process this?

You knew how important Maeve Donovan was to Spencer. The whole thing had happened a year before you joined the team, only having heard the story through your teammates. It was tragic, there was no other way to put it, and your heart clenched for Spencer for having to go through that by himself. When you both first started dating, he disclosed the more intimate details to you, wanting nothing to be left unspoken about his past to affect his future with you.

What a cruel twist of fate.

“I—I think,” you stutter, “I have to go, JJ, I can’t be here right now.”

“But—“ She starts.

You cut her off, “No, JJ you have to go talk to Spencer and get him back in there. The longer his mom is with Lindsey…” you trail off.

She nods, understanding that you’re thinking about the priorities right now, “Okay, okay I’ll go find him. Where are you going to go?”

You could go home, the one you share with Spencer. Or you could go back to the office, the one you also share with Spencer.

Every realization adds another needle to your stack, and you’re about to crumble under the weight. “I—I don’t know.” You whimper.

JJ closes her eyes to think quickly and grips your shoulders, “Go back to the BAU okay? I’m going to call Emily and tell her to expect you back, you go straight there, do you understand me?” she emphasizes. JJ is smart enough to know that you cannot be alone right now, and that Spencer wouldn’t be able to scrounge up whatever focus he could into getting answers from Cat if he knew you had left by yourself to god knows where.

All you could do was nod, and hope and pray that your feet would carry you to the car and back to the bureau. JJ was nervous having you drive back, but she really didn’t have a choice. All she could do was notify Emily, as well as Penelope for tracking purposes, that you were headed back, and to not ask you too many questions.

After you left, JJ stood in the waiting room for a brief moment before going to find where Spencer went. She finds him sitting on the floor of an unused interrogation room with his head tucked into his knees.

She speaks quietly to not startle him, “Hey.”

He looks up at the voice, JJ noticing his eyes flit around and behind her as if looking for something, or someone. His eyes sulk back when he’s unable to find it.

Spencer opens his mouth to speak, “Is she—“

“She’s going back to the BAU, Emily knows she’s on the way,” she cuts him off already anticipating his question, “Listen, whatever you’re feeling about what just happened right now has to be paused. You need to focus and finish this stupid game with Cat so we can find your mother and be done with her.” She grits out.

He sighs shakily, he doesn’t even want to think about what must be going through your head. As much as it pained him to experience her vitriol first hand, you were on the other side of that window listening to every word Cat spewed out. And somehow, knowing you watched all of that hurt worse than Mexico, worse than Tobias Hankel, and even worse than Maeve Donovan.

Cat was playing a deeply fucked psychological game with him, and she had now called you in as a pawn. You, his darling girl. The one who made him see the light of the sun after it was constantly being put out, the one who loved him through his mother’s illness and wrongful imprisonment, the one who is, with all and every bit of certainty, the love of his life.

If the velvet black box in his sock drawer was any testament to the power that love held, he hoped it would take mercy on him in this moment.

He stands up and paces the room for a moment before kicking the chair to the other side of the room. JJ startles, her eyes widening but attempting to remain neutral faced as Spencer sorts out his emotions.

“Spence, we need to focus,” she reminds him, “Time is running out.”

“I know,” he mumbles and paces the room hoping to have a stroke of insight, “I have an idea.”

———

You must be no better than a zombie in the final apocalypse when you walk into the bullpen, stumbling around with glassy eyes, no regard for what’s in your way. The apathetic coping mechanism you’ve deployed almost makes you seem as mindless as those monsters, if it weren’t for Penelope to show up and steady you.

“I gotcha, honey,” She makes eye contact with Emily, acknowledging that she’s got you, before turning back to you again, “Come here, let’s sit down.” Penelope sits you down in the nearest chair and drags another one for her to sit right next to you.

You don’t speak for an hour after sitting. Penelope doesn’t ask, only checking in every ten minutes to see if you want a snack or some water, to which you shake your head no every time. She’s too busy typing away on her laptop getting information that could help the team find Spencer’s mother, the last thing you want to be is a bump in the road for them.

Another hour passes before the team exits the conference room, alerting you and Penelope that they think they’ve found the cabin where Diana and Lindsey are. Emily gathers everything they need before approaching you in the bullpen.

“Do I have to be here when you guys come back?” You ask quietly.

Emily sighs, understanding the gravity of your circumstance, “No, you don’t. Will you let Garcia drop you home though? Give us all a peace of mind.” She chuckles humorlessly, unknowingly squeezing the other shoulder JJ didn’t.

You know the ‘all’ she’s referring to really just means one person. It doesn’t make you feel any better, but you don’t think it’s meant to. She brings you in for a tight hug, “I’ll check on you after, okay?”

You nod and release from her embrace. Penelope gathers her things next to you and you both walk to the elevator.

“Honey,” It pained Garcia to see you like this, and she didn’t know how she could help, “What can I do?”

You sniffle and shrug, there isn’t much she can do. There isn’t even much that you could do. Not that anything you could do would be enough, it was never enough. Not for you, not for the team, and not for Spencer.

With a bitter chuckle you answer Penelope’s question,

“Bring back Maeve.”

[moonwoodhollow]

2k follower gift: Casa de Tedeji 22 - a cc lot by moonwoodhollow It’s finally time for one of my favourite buildings I have done in a while; Casa de Tedeji 22! Casa de Tedeji 22 is a mostly unfurnished residential lot that is best placed in Ciudad Enamorada. This lot was inspired by the film Roma, and I hope you'll find it as charming as I do! This building consists of three different houses, and you could either have just one family living there, or you could fill all three houses with families and watch the drama unfold. Either way, I hope you have fun with this lot & thank you again, for 2k followers!

More screenshots, info + download link under the cut!

Building background

As someone who's never been to Mexico, I still wanted to create a somewhat realistic building for Ciudad Enamorada that perfectly fits into the world.

The house that I first thought of, was the 'main' house in which most of the plot of the film Roma by Alfonso Cuarón took place. Even though I watched the film some time ago I often kept thinking back to the house and the architecture of Mexico City in the 70s. So I looked up the filming locations and found out that the house actually still exists, you can read about more here and here if you're interested.

While building I obviously changed a few things from the original structure, because I did not want to recreate the house entirely, as I didn't have too many inside-the-house photos, so I went to googlemaps and got inspired by the neighbouring houses and that's how this building or these three buildings came to be!

So what do you get?

Case de Tedeji 22 is a 30x20 residential build best placed in Ciudad Enamorada on the Mansión de la Pasión lot. It probably could also work on other lots, but it looks best on that one. The lot is unfurnished, meaning I only added the outdoor decor but kept the houses completely unfurnished except for flooring and wallpaper + a floorplan for each house.

house one: 2 bedrooms, 1 bathroom, a fenced-in garden

house two: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms, a balcony, courtyard

house three: 2 bedrooms, 2 bathrooms (1 ensuite), rooftop space

If you own For Rent, you could change the lot type to residential rental, but obviously, even without that pack, you could play with up to 8 sims/three families on this lot.

Uses items from the following packs: I will update this, once I hop back into game, but I own almost all packs.

Download: Google Drive(195 MB) | Also up on the gallery: aeromantica (but you’ll need the cc files from the Drive folder!)

Is the CC included? Yes.

A BIG THANK YOU to all the CC-creators, without their creations, I wouldn’t have been able to build this!

TOU: Please don’t claim as your own or put behind paywalls etc. If you find any issues (wrong/missing files, etc.) please let me know + tag me if you’ll use the building, I’d love to see it in your games.

If you like what I do and want to show your appreciation, I have a ko-fi!

[mellxncollie]

Part 1 of looking into some of the technical cinematography aspects of the show

(or, why does Dead Boy Detectives look Like That?)

(update 6/30/24: there's now a part 2! check it out here)

Dead Boy Detectives has some interesting things going on with the cameras. You probably noticed it at some point while watching the show. Whether it was the weird blurs or the sort-of-fisheye, there’s something about many of the shots that doesn’t look the way many people expect TV shows to look.  

The main reason why is because it uses an anamorphic lens instead of a spherical lens. These lenses are pretty different from spherical lenses, and the recent rise of anamorphic lenses in TV has not been without some pushback, as viewers unaccustomed to them may find the look weird, distorted, or that it pulls their focus away from the content. Whether you enjoy how Dead Boy Detectives looks or find the cinematography distracting, this post is designed to explain the different effects that the lens has on the show.

This post is very long and very graphics heavy (I made lots of gifs to illustrate my points) so the rest is under a read more.

What is an anamorphic lens and what is it used for?

To begin with, a bit of history and technical info. Say you’re making a movie at most any point before the mid-'90s and you want it to be widescreen. However, the 35mm film you’re shooting on has a smaller aspect ratio (closer to a square than widescreen). You could use letterboxing (black bars on top and bottom) but then you waste the top and bottom parts of the film, and it ends up being slightly lower in ‘resolution.’ The solution: use a lens that records the full height onto the film, but squishes the picture horizontally so that it fills up the whole film frame without any letterboxing. Then, a projector (or a computer) can stretch it out again to display the whole thing in widescreen. The kind of lens that can do that is an anamorphic lens. They've technically been around since before the 1920s but were mostly used between the 1950s and the 1990s.

Up until sort of recently, television networks broadcasted using a smaller aspect ratio that they required shows to be in, and TV shows were not given the kind of cinematography budgets that movies were afforded. Anamorphic lenses are expensive and for widescreen, so they really just weren’t used for TV shows. Instead, a spherical lens was used, which is just the standard lens you think of when you picture a camera lens. 

In the 90s, new flat/spherical film formats came out that allowed for widescreen (one of the popular ones being Super 35) caused anamorphic lenses to drastically drop in popularity. However, there has been a recent resurgence, one that you’ve probably subconsciously noticed in both film and television.

In the last 10-15 years, TV has been given larger and larger budgets. Additionally, the rise of streaming services and the use of phones and computers to watch shows rather than actual televisions has meant that networks have started allowing wider aspect ratios, paving the way for anamorphic lenses to begin to be used for series. 

The history of these lens’ usage means they’re associated with a ‘cinematic’ look. They have a lot of characteristic effects that are not really ‘natural’ and depending on the viewer, this either enhances the experience or detracts from it.

Lots of recent series have been embracing these lenses (to varying degrees of success), including The Witcher, Sandman, Sh��gun, Narcos: Mexico, The Mandalorian, Andor and Chilling Adventures of Sabrina. Doctor Who also started using anamorphic lenses at the switch to the 13th Doctor, so that may be a good reference point. For some of these, it’s a very subtle look, for others, the lens choice is glaringly obvious and overdone (I’m looking at you Sabrina), and sometimes, as is the case with Dead Boy Detectives, it’s really obvious but it remains an effective and compelling choice. 

Why use an anamorphic lens in the 21st century when you could just use a spherical lens?

Anamorphic lenses create a look that some filmmakers desire, whether for their associations with a more cinematic look or their sometimes unusual quirks. In a film and tv world filled with spherical lenses that are nice, clean, and precise, anamorphic lenses introduce some irregularity and character. Making an informed decision on what kind of lens to use can enhance different themes of the work. 

I want to briefly bring up Moonlight to illustrate this point. Go watch the trailer if you haven’t seen it, and you’ll probably see some parallels with the cinematography of Dead Boy Detectives. There’s less of the ‘radial’ look, but otherwise, there’s a lot of the same kinds of things. Moonlight uses an anamorphic lens and it makes the whole thing look dream-like, nostalgic, and a bit like we’re getting into the character’s heads. To me, it indicates that the story is being filtered through people. We’re not detached from the characters, observing them. The story we are watching is personal, emotional, and necessitates intimacy. 

Dead Boy Detectives really benefits from the same visual effects. This is not because it enhances a dream-like or nostalgic quality, but because in the context of the show, it makes it look a bit otherworldly, magical, or otherwise supernatural. Additionally, the constraints of the lens means we get lots of focusing in on individual characters, with nice long looks at their faces allowing for more reflection on their dialogue and reactions.

So, here’s 5 different effects of anamorphic lenses to point out to you all. Starting with the one that allows us to easily identify that anamorphic lenses are being used in the first place.

You’ve probably heard of bokeh before. It's the way the lens renders the direct sources of light that are in the background but out-of-focus. You can see in this shot of Jenny how all the string lights are not circular, but elongated. On a spherical lens, these would be round.

In this next shot of the Cat King, the candles around the floor are all those elliptical shapes. Additionally, lots of other details in the background that aren’t from direct light sources also have an elongated shape. This is sometimes called waterfall bokeh.

Finally, check out this shot of one of the cats. Not only are the lights in the background irregular and elongated, but if you look to the left where the ‘horizon’ line is, there's a series of elliptical shapes where the light hits the edge of the docks.

The bokeh effect is one of those things that just happens because of the lens, and makes it pretty easy to identify that an anamorphic lens is being used. Unlike some of the other effects I’ll mention, I don’t have much to say about how this does or doesn’t add to the visuals.

Breathing is how the field of view changes when you refocus to a subject closer or farther from the lens. While spherical lenses also breathe, there’s a much more distorted look to the breathing that occurs with an anamorphic lens.

Lets start with this shot:

You can see how much the frame widens when the focus shifts from the jar of coins to Jenny. It affects the edges much more than the middle of the frame. Here’s the same shot, but with some of the features outlined (forgive my messy outlining, I used my laptop trackpad) so you can see the movement.

The frame widens when the focus goes from the foreground to the background. It appears like the whole shot is being stretched apart horizontally and compressed vertically.

However, it also does the reverse, narrowing as the focus moves from the background to the foreground.

(also in that last shot of hell, notice how the two points of light in the background elongate into those oval bokeh once they are no longer in focus)

Breathing is a very dramatic way of refocusing, and it forces us to pay attention to different things. In the shot of the Night Nurse, we have a light but the important thing after it turns on is not the light but the reaction that the people have to the cause of the light. In that shot of Niko and Edwin, it’s telling us: listen to Niko. In the shot of hell, it’s not letting us forget what the characters are running from. 

The next effect is the lens flare. You can get a lens flare from a spherical lens too, but anamorphic lenses typically generate strong, horizontal flares. A spherical lens would typically create a more radial flare, with multiple lines shooting out in different directions from the light source like rays from the sun.

We see these all over the show, sometimes they’re very prominent, such as in these shots with obvious light sources:

And sometimes they're a bit more subtle. Take this shot of Edwin, Charles, and Crystal on the dock:

While the lens flare at the top of the frame has a clear source, there’s a bunch of other horizontal lines cutting across near the middle and bottom half of the frame. These likely come from light sources outside of the frame.

Some directors, cinematographers, and other creators really like anamorphic flares. Others don’t. For a show with so many dark scenes that have colorful and dramatic lighting, the lens flares seem to enhance this. They are also a constant reminder of the interaction between the lights and the camera, kind of a fingerprint of the production. Sure, they make it seem more ‘cinematic,’ but I think they also ground us in the physicality of the production. (Kind of ironic given the lack of physicality of the main characters, and also you could consider the flares themselves to be the ghosts of the lights and the camera!)

Barrel distortion is where we start getting into why exactly the show looks the way it does. This is basically a subtle fisheye effect. Because of the squishing and stretching of the footage, anamorphic lenses have more distortion than spherical lenses, and it is strongest around the edges. 

You can see it most clearly in shots that have lots of vertical lines. They are relatively straight in the middle of the frame, but the closer to the edges, the more they are warped.

Looking at that shame shot of Niko in the bathroom, I have set it to stop at 3 different spots. Pay attention to the shape of the edge of the door.

At the start, it’s curved outward, like an open parentheses: (

Then, in the middle, it’s a vertical line: |

Finally, as the door passes all the way across the frame to the opposite side, it curves inward, like a closed parentheses: )

Again, notice how the lines in this shot of the Lost & Found Department change as they move from the outside towards the center. The door has an outward bulge at the beginning but becomes more 'normal’ shaped as it gets further away.

Anamorphic lenses can also have a pretty shallow depth of field and it’s used a lot in this show which is why we get a lot of those centered close-ups, and why we get that ‘radial blur.’ 

The center of the frame is where the actors are least likely to be distorted, meaning its easiest to have just one character in the dead center (pun intended). With a shallow depth of field, the background is out of focus, and since the actor is in the center, the background gets the most affected by the barrel distortion, leading to the sense that the background has been radially blurred. 

This blurred background with a strong, centered foreground really makes objects in the foreground pop. We are then able to really focus in on different objects and characters. It brings immediacy and intimacy. Here, we have nothing to do but consider Charles. He isn’t speaking so we must consider his reaction to what’s being said. 

Also, the further a character is from the center of a shot, the more they are distorted, such as Edwin and Charles in this still:

This kind of distortion definitely lends a more unnatural look to the shots, which definitely supports a show about ghosts and the supernatural. If the subjects are able to see things in our world in a way the viewers cannot, then why display the physical world the way we see it?

Finally, we have focus falloff. This is (like some of the other effects) a distortion that occurs around the edges. Here, the focus decreases the further from the center of the frame even if they’re all about the same distance from the camera.

In this shot of the Tongue & Tail, the sign 'Butcher Shop’ is clear and legible. But imagine if that sign was up in the top left or right corners, where things start to get blurry. We probably wouldn’t be able to read it.

It's also visible in this shot of Edwin. Not only does the floor get blurrier the further you get from the center, but you can see how the rope is less in focus in very top and very bottom of the frame.

The falloff (combined with the barrel distortion) is how we get the really unique dream-like look of the Edwin and Niko scene on the roof in Episode 8. (If you’re having a hard time spotting the falloff here, look at their legs)

When you start looking for falloff in this show, you start to see it everywhere. It’s easiest to spot in the corners of shots, but you can usually see all the way around the edges.

Look at the corners of this still of Edwin, or the way the top and bottom of Niko’s rent envelope aren’t as clear as the middle of it.

Or in this still, look at Charles’ jacket. The arm closest to the center has a much more defined line between it and the background compared to the arm closest to the edge. 

This blur definitely is one of the more noticeable effects in the show, and it’s good at focusing our attention on the center of the frame. It guides the viewer exactly to what we should be looking at. We get tons of centered shots in this show because of this and the barrel distortion. 

The falloff makes the show look softer and artistic, sometimes painterly or impressionistic. More than any other effect, the falloff is what makes me feel like I’m watching a dream or a vision. It puts us into the sensation of being fully immersed in a story.

I would argue that all of these effects (but especially the last two) not only enhace the supernatural aspect of the show, but they help us fall in love with the characters. They focus us on their faces, and encourage us to reflect on their motivations, reactions, and thoughts. The lens is telling us that we are not to take things at face value. It’s not letting us forget that there are multiple people and multiple stories involved, that things are blurry around the edges, and that things are not perfect and clean-cut. 

-----------

Sometime in the next week or so I’ll be working on part 2, where we’ll take a closer look at the cinematography of Edwin’s flashback to 1916 in Episode 1. It's posted! Read it here.

I really wanted to highlight the work of the cinematographers, Marc Laliberté, Craig Powell, and Pierre Gill because it’s clear that there was so much care and intention put into every aspect of this show. 

I’m so glad fans of this show are really embracing the work of different crew members, like the work of costume designer Kelli Dunsmore (and if you somehow haven’t seen @captainfantasticalright's posts about the costumes and other aspects of the show, please go check them out right now. My roommates and I have a kind of 'stop everything, new costume analysis dropped' attitude towards their posts, and their approach to show analysis was definiteily an inspiration for this)

If you want to read more about anamorphic lenses, the article Why ‘Shogun’ (and the Rest of TV) Is Slightly Out of Focus in The Ringer is about Shōgun and the rise of anamorphic lenses in TV (Marc Laliberté also worked on a few episodes of Shōgun) and it's a great place to start.

Finally, I want to first thank @skyvoice for these tags on one of my gifsets for semi-inspiring this post (I was already considering making this but these made it into a reality).

[in-daddy-price-we-trust]

All I Wanted - Part 3

summary: when you are kidnapped discovered by TF141 they can't help but fall in love.

pairing: 141 x fem!teen!reader (platonic)

warnings: mentions of child abuse, drugs, canon typical violence, kidnapping

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: so uh.. not dead.. I kinda forgot about thos between school and life so apologies for not posting.. for two months.. anyways, enjoy the chapter <3

You POV

Soap continued to ramble on about this and that, with Gaz occasionally butting in when necessary, as the pair showcased the base to you and how they weren't staying much longer. Something about how they had better chances finding this Nombre person in Mexico, where they were originally.

Gaz brought up the other members when they entered the shooting range, just past the training room. Apparently the barracks were deeper into the facility, (how much you believe that you aren't entirely sure). He pointed to two figures standing next to eachother, conversing with adoration in their eyes, "That's Alejandro-" you followed his finger to the taller of the two, "-And that's Rudy, they're a package deal if you get what I mean," To ensure his comment came across perfectly, Gaz shot you a wink.

With a clap on the back, Soap pushed you towards the two lovebirds. It was Alejandro who noticed you first, "Ah, here she is! Hola, niña, estas muy pequeño!" Rudy looked at the man fiercely before elbowing him in the ribs, "Qué? I was just pointing out the obvious mi vida!" A long sigh left Rudy at Alejandro's incompetence.

"So sorry about him, Ale can be, stupid occasionally," Rudy's smile was warm and inviting. Alejandro scowled at Rudy before giving a sympathetic grin towards you, a nod of the head as an apology.

"Do you want to show us how well you can shoot?" Soap gestured to the gun poking out of the duffle bag, a cheeky look in his eyes.

You moved too quickly for them to register, the eye piercing pink with hello kitty, kirby and cat stickers moulded into the metal of the rifle. A sparkly purple keychain dangling from it, blue stars twinkling alongside. The hold was confident, strong and firm, an aim to please familiar to the hardened soldiers.

Gaz gave a soft chuckle at the obvious excitement, pointing in the direction of the shooting range. Lines of plywood separating lanes with hip level metallic benches. Long pathways with human shaped targets, most paper but a few were made of a harder substance such as cardboard. Some of these were hidden behind more bits of scrap wood.

Practically skipping over and setting up the perfect first shot. And that's what it was; well maybe to some it could have been better but instantly the gun continued to fire again at a different target, and then another and another. Bullet casings falling past your face at each reload.

To be honest, you could have gone the whole day, it was when a hand on your shoulder pulled you away from the rhythmic sound of metal hitting the cold concrete. The action made you jerk, a startled yelp following as you whipped your head to the side, staring up at Skully. A very audible gulp was heard throughout the now silent room.

For a while nothing happened. A staring contest happening between the two of you before he spoke up, "..Sorry.." his voice was rough and deep, the words so softly spoken you were sure you misheard the behemoth of a man. "Good shot kiddo, but think about breathing. You're gonna make yourself pass out if you hold ya' breath for that long, hmm?" His eyes were an endless void of darkness, the coffee and gold colours swirling into a beautiful helix of patterns. The words soaked into your brain as you came to the conclusion.

"Yes Sir!" The smile plastered on your face was one of pure adoration, the twinkle in your eyes matching that on the glitter sparkling on the rifle, still clasped in your almost too small hands.

-

The shooting lasted a while. Each man giving tips and tricks to you, letting you improve on your gunmanship. Eventually, the sun slowly lowered in the sky, and the canteen opened for dinner. A selection of grimy looking slop, greens, beans and a lukewarm soup.

They gave recommendations of what to have and what to avoid (mostly the slop). The soup was better than you thought. Leek and potato. Though, there weren't any potatoes in it, just soft clumps of leek with other veggies thrown in to pad it out.

Tables weren't assigned in the mess hall, but it seemed each group had claimed a table. You bit your lip, standing in the middle, tray in hand. A whistle caught your attention, Gaz calling you over to their table.

You set the tray down next to Ghost before Price walked in, marching over to table 141. He gave you a warm smile as he saw you eating. "Glad to see ya eating, dolly," in return, you gleamed up at him, a spoonful of soup making its way down your throat.

At least half an hour passed, the group chattering and giggling at the stories and jokes that were passed around, before a yawn interrupted the fun. It was Soap who noticed - "Aye lass, ya tir'd?" a meek nod a was All it took before he started to rise, being stopped by the Captain.

"I've got her Johnny. Cmon dolly, I'll show ya you're room," A hum was all that followed.

The walk was comfortable, going back through the winding halls and plain walls. Price stopped abruptly at one of the doors, Knockin on the solid wood. "Here ya are. I put ya next to me, hope you don't mind, you get a bigger room- and~" He drew out the ending as he opened the door, "-an ensuite bathroom!"

You giggled at the man, going in and exploring the room a bit. "Does that mean I have to listen to your snoring, sir?" It was said cheekily, the smirk evident on your face and the chuckle on his lips.

"Aye, so better invest in some ear plugs!"

Giggles erupted from you, turning to face him. Braces were on show with how wide your grin was. "Thank you.." was all that was said. And a nod was all that was needed, Price turned leaving the room with a click of the door.

You faceplanted onto the bed, soft duvet covers wrapping around you like a burrito as sleep quickly overcame you. Soft snores left you as the moon rises high into the sky.

-

taglist: @urfavsunkissedleo @greenkiki @daryldixonh0e @elijahssuit @theunknownartistsworld @rafaelacallinybbay @cycy-nicole @romanticizedillness @thedeluded @blueoorchid @guiltyconfessions @r3dc4ndy @unnoticed-human @crazyfandomist @jaymum @chb-7 @chromslover @connierk690 @lilpothoscuttings @darkfaethedestroyer @cptg00s3 @elvyshiarieko @8-29pm @howlerwolfmax @minkyungseokie @tapioca-marzipan @cinnamoroll-things @kittythebloodykiller @thicc-plum @phoenixmistycal @marytvirgin @eddiesbitch83 @dwkfan @kdkj122920 @deakyspuff @dressycobra7 @swaggbella @sarraa-26 @autrefleur @revengze @elvyshiarieko @dweebsthings @maeplayscello

[nervousmiseryy]

I need non-spanish speakers who found out about Roier through the QSMP to know about The Hotel Room Incident bc i find it so fcking funny

To give you some context: a bunch of spanish speaking streamers were all in Mexico, staying in the same hotel bc of The Eslands (an award show for streamers that was happening on the 29th of January).

And somehow, even though most streamers arrived on the 28th and were tired as fuck, a party started to from on the hotel. So throughout the night we kept getting instastories and videos of the guys saying hi to fans outside the hotel. Here are some examples: 1 (yep, that’s roier in the beginning), 2

Mind you, the event started really early the next day.

So the next morning we start getting tweets and stories from these streamers who are very obviously hungover and tired (a whole bunch of them ended up going with sunglasses to the awards lol).

And Mariana posts this story:

M: [...] The problem here is Roier, I don’t know where he is. He was supposed to stay here with me bc he did not have a room and I told him “stay with me, no problem dude” and there are his things and everything... he’s not here! and I have like 10 messages and 10 missed calls from him saying like “dude, I can’t get in!”. The dumbass is him bc I gave him a key.. no way [..]

Roier is missing

He could be sleeping in the middle of the hallway for all we know.

After like an hour or radio silence, Roier tweets this:

R: when you end up sleeping with spreen bc mariana fell asleep

S: you suck it good

R: you look really pretty sleeping

And other than this story (which is mainly Roier insulting Mariana lmao) we get no more context at all.

For like two days

Nothing will ever compare to all the communities trying to piece together what the hell happened that night through all the vague tweets, it was so fun. Istg it all felt like one of those Twitter AUs.

So, the awards happen, everyone goes back home and the fun part stars:

The streams where the streamers talk about the trip.

No one was safe (especially spreen) (it doesn’t matter to the story but you have to know everyone had a different wild ass story about him)

It turns out Mariana got so drunk that he forgot and fell asleep, and the key he gave Roier did not work, so Quackity had to use his lawyer skills to get the hotel people to let Roier in.

AND IT COULD HAVE WORKED, the hotel people opened the door, but they had to ask Mariana if Roier could enter, and he was just not waking up at all 😭, so Spreen (who had a whole afterparty forming in his room) offered his room.

And this was only one of the many things that happened during that trip (for example, at one point Mariana got them kicked out of a store bc he leaked their location and a crowd was forming 😭 ). So, what I guess I’m trying to say is that I’m really excited for when La Velada comes around and all of them can meet up again, and you should too, because these mfs cannot be normal when they get together.

[sbdskate]

Laws of Attraction (Part 4) - DR x lawyer!fem!reader

Summary: McLaren is in breach of contract, dr3 hires a lawyer to deal with the aftermath. Tropes ensue. Slow burn. Enemies(kind of) -> Friends/colleagues -> Lovers

Pairing: lawyer!fem!reader x Daniel Ricciardo

Warnings (18+): language, alcohol consumption, COPIOUS sexual themes, references to self pleasure, NSFW for a hot sec

Word Count: 5,548

A/N: Happy Enchante drop day! Remember that time I thought this was going to be a one shot? Well, here’s part 4 and apparently there will now be a part 5 which I’m pretty sure will be the last one unless there is an epilogue. Thank you for your patience, while I had a strong sense of the story I wanted to tell in the beginning, I’ve had some trouble trying to figure out how to wrap it up. As always, any feedback is welcome. If you enjoyed, please like, comment, and/or reblog xoxo

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Epilogue 1

Daniel stood there dazed in the middle of the bar, unsure of what just happened. One minute, he and y/n were dancing and laughing, then you were suddenly gone. He felt sad, but he couldn’t pinpoint why.

He barely had a second to reflect when people started swarming him, men and women alike, trying to find their way into the driver’s orbit. Some of them just wanted pictures, some tried to make small talk or flirt. Despite being surrounded be people clamoring for just a fraction of his attention, he was incredibly alone.

It was late, he was tired, and it was time to leave.

-

By the following weekend for the Mexico Grand Prix, you had not spoken to your client since that night in the bar. You wished you had blacked out so you could simply pretend it didn’t happen, or blame your behavior on the excess alcohol, but unfortunately for you your memory of the night was crystal clear. The scene replayed over and over in your head. First comes the shame, at how much you enjoyed the feeling of his touch on your waist and the warmth of your bodies pressed against one another. You wonder what might have happened if you had closed the tiny gap between your lips. Would it have stayed a drunken bar make out session or would it have overflowed to the hotel? Would you have gone to his room or yours? Would it have been sloppy and desperate or slow and sensual? Would he be a gentleman in the morning or would he kick you out? When you finish going through every single permutation of what could have been, that’s when the embarrassment sets in. Embarrassment that you let the whole thing happen and that you basically ran away without an explanation, saying goodbye, or much else. Finally, the wave of guilt over abandoning him after an emotional weekend when he probably needed you most. You couldn’t see how you could come back from this.  

Fortunately you hadn’t had a reason to be in the same room together, but that would soon be coming to an end. Despite the temptation of margaritas and empanadas and tropical sun outside, you mostly stayed in your hotel room, throwing yourself deeper into your work and trying anything to distract yourself from the anxiety of the unknown fallout from what may or may not have occurred in Austin. There was a lot of positive movement happening with both Mercedes and Red Bull, which you should have been ecstatic to share with your client. And yet you were terrified to make contact with him.

As things seemed to be coming to a head in reserve driver negotiations, the partner set up an in-person client meeting on the morning of press day. You hadn’t been this nervous the first time you met Daniel or going into hostile negotiations against Zak Brown and McLaren. You changed outfits no less than seven times before heading out and no amount of power posing made you feel any better. Normally you would have gotten to the meeting at least fifteen minutes early, but you were worried Daniel would show up before Joe which would leave the two of you by yourselves. You uncharacteristically arrived on time, and ended up being the last person to join the meeting. You could tell Joe was slightly annoyed.

“Y/N, so nice of you to join us.”

You cringed. “Sorry. There was…uh, traffic.” You knew it was a lame excuse, but you couldn’t be bothered. You glanced over at Daniel, but he kept his eyes focused on the desk. For a meeting that should have been filled with excitement over the prospect of possibility, it felt somewhat somber.

You went over where he stood with Mercedes and Red Bull. The discussions between Daniel and the teams had been successfully kept under wraps until the last week or so, when a photo of Toto in an Enchante sweatshirt began circulating the internet. Though nothing was finalized, sleuthing fans thought this was an obvious hint that Daniel had signed with Mercedes. While it wasn’t the end of the world, you had hoped Daniel would be able to make his decision without the pressure of public comment or opinion. You were sure he had the mental fortitude to do so regardless, but you felt the need to protect him beyond your professional fiduciary obligations. He had already been through enough.

You pressed through the meeting, keeping your comments technical and brief. As usual you exchanged handshakes at the end before going your separate ways, though he hardly looked your way before he turned to leave. Once out of the room, Joe began to discuss next steps with you but his words went in one ear and out the other. You felt nauseous as the growing pit in your stomach failed to subdue. You thought back again to the night at the bar and your abrupt departure, and the last few days where you easily could have sent a text to reassure him or ease the tension, but you didn’t. You were the attorney and you were responsible for maintaining the attorney-client relationship, which you failed. You had to go find him.

You cut your boss off as politely as you could. “I’m so sorry, sir, I just realized… I forgot my, uh, charger! And I need to… respond to another client’s email. So I have to go.”

He quirked an eyebrow. “Are you ok? You seem flustered today.”

“I’m fine!” You were absolutely off your game, but you didn’t want to show him any signs of weakness. “Just, jetlagged?” You mentally slapped yourself as soon as the words came out of your mouth. While it might have worked for almost any other F1 race on the calendar, Austin and Mexico City were in the same time zone. The partner knew something was up, but he had too many other things to worry about than the mental breakdown of a low level associate.

“Ok. But I expect a draft of redlines by the end of the day.”

You were practically already out the door as you called out “Thank you, sir! I’ll be sure to get those to you as soon as possible!”

You were running around the paddock like a crazy person, unceremoniously shoving media personnel out of the way. You made your way through the maze of hallways and offices, the click-clack of your high heels announcing your presence before you got to wherever you were going.

In your haste, you didn’t notice running past Lando.

“Y/N!”

“Can’t! Don’t have time!” you called back, not even bothering to figure out who was addressing you.

“Y/N! It’s me, would slow down for two seconds?”

Finally, you stopped and turned. “Oh thank goodness.” You doubled over, huffing and puffing from the unexpected cardio. “You can help me. Where’s Daniel?” you asked between breaths.

“He went to his dressing room after your meeting. Whe-?”

You were already around the corner before he finished his sentence. “Great, thanks!”

You barreled your way towards Daniel, your run turning into a lame waddle from the constrictions of your shoes and pencil skirt. You did not pause when you arrived at your destination and pushed the door open without knocking. You doubled over again and leaned against the wall once inside.

“Can I help you?”

You were so exhausted you almost missed the fact that the driver was shirtless. It was a sight to behold, especially after months of imagining what might be underneath. Your eyes lingered longer than they should have on his toned pecs, moving their way down to his chiseled abs and the “v” that pointed its way to his pants. You knew he was still upset with you, but it didn’t stop the small smirk threatening its way to his face. But you were a woman on a mission and you refused to be distracted.

“I’m sorry,” you got out, still panting. “I fucked up.” You looked away while he put a McLaren shirt on, taking the moment to catch your breath.

He sat down and motioned for you to do the same, which you graciously accepted. He took you in. In the span of less than an hour, it felt as though he was looking at before and after photos of an ad but in reverse. You seemed so composed during the meeting and now here you were, blazer lopsided and unbuttoned, hair tousled, sweat beading at your forehead, cheeks flushed, and breathless. It was simultaneously hilarious and insanely hot, but he wasn’t going to let on anything at this point.

“What the hell happened?”

You started talking a mile a minute. “I wanted to talk to you right after the meeting, but Joe wanted to talk about next steps and I tried to get away as soon as I could, but then I couldn’t find you –“

“Not now you dodo, last week after the race.” You blinked a few times. Now that he was in front of you, the thoughts running in your mind from before went blank. He came to your rescue, filling in the silence.

“All I know, is that we were having a good time and then you left me in the middle of a bar by myself without saying goodbye after one of the shittiest races of my life. I haven’t heard from you since, and I know you haven’t been hungover for four days straight. I appreciate you coming in here and apologizing, but respectfully, what the fuck.”

You looked away in shame. You weren’t sure how you were going to handle this without disclosing your feelings. You took a deep breath and swallowed your pride, proceeding cautiously.

“What happened at the bar, and how I acted afterwards, is entirely a me problem and I could have been more… strategicabout how I handled it.

“Strategic!?” You winced and closed your eyes, immediately regretting your choice of words. Clearly insulted, he continued. “Strategic is how you describe a Bond villain, or a business deal, not how you treat a friend-“

You jumped out of your chair, interrupting him out of frustration. “Don’t you get it? That’s the whole problem!” You couldn’t tell if you wanted to hold his hand or punch a wall. “I love that you are basically the human equivalent of a golden retriever. I love how comfortable we are together, and I’m a firm believer that you do better work when you know and like the people you work with. But you are my work at the end of the day. You are my client. There’s literally a whole ethics exam that is separate from the bar exam and it’s really easy. (1) Don’t comingle funds; and (2) don’t sleep with your client.” He raised an eyebrow. You sat back down.

“Obviously, nothing happened on Sunday. But… it felt like it toed the line of what is acceptable in my professional capacity. I know this is probably very one sided and it’s all in my head, but it felt like something could have. If Joe or anyone else ever found out, I could lose my job or my license over something like this. That being said, I do not blame you one bit. I’m the one that let things get out of hand, and I realized it in a single moment, and I freaked out, and left. And I’m sorry. For all of it.”

Daniel looked at the floor, his cheeks dusted slightly pink as he processed your admission. “It wasn’t in your head,” he whispered. His gaze rose to meet yours, but you covered your face with your hands.

“Fuck, don’t tell me that.” You tried to keep your tone light as if you were trying to joke it off, but you were very serious. You had convinced yourself this was a delusional fantasy of your mind’s creation, which would have been very easy to let go. But now it had been spoken into existence with the revelation that those feelings were reciprocated. It had legs and took up space. It was terrifying. You sighed as you slouched back in your chair, feeling defeated and mind reeling. “Look. Let’s just chalk this up to the fact that we’ve been spending a stupid amount of time together for the last however many months. Can we please just pretend last weekend never happened so we can move past this?”

Daniel sat for a moment. Of course he had forgiven you as soon as you stampeded your way into his room. There was a lot about Texas he wanted to forget, but his day with you was not one of them. Maybe you were right that the feelings the two of you evidently had for each other were just the product of forced proximity, but right now he didn’t want to believe that. Time and time again this season when he felt like he couldn’t go on, you had been there with support and compassion. You grounded him while he mellowed your intensity. You provided logic and reason while he extracted adventure and vulnerability. He was Yin and you were Yang. You couldn’t make up a connection like that. Yet, he would never want be the reason you lose your license, let alone the job you love so much.

Looking at you now, all he wanted to do was scoop you up and kiss you. Instead, he stuck out his hand. “Deal.”

You smiled softly, giving a firm handshake. “Thanks.” You paused. “So, we’re good… right?”

Of course you were. How could you not be? He had a million things he wanted to say. Instead, all he could get out was: “Yeah. We’re good.”

-

You weren’t sure what was in the water. Maybe it was you, or next year’s team prospects, or simply the energy of Mexico, but Daniel gave his best performance of the season finishing a strong P7. For the first time since you met him, a genuine smile graced the driver post-race. Professionally, you knew this would be great to leverage in finalizing negotiations. But as his friend, your heart was exploding with pride. The crowd was roaring in celebration, everyone was a Daniel Ricciardo fan. After a tough season, you had forgotten this side of him. What you wouldn’t do for those dimples. You kept your distance though, allowing him to revel in the spotlight. It was killing you not to run up to him, but you wouldn’t have been able to get to him if you tried.

The post-race interviews would probably take a while so you decided to head out. As you fought your way through the media, you felt someone tap your shoulder. You assumed it was just standard foot traffic, so you kept moving until you heard someone call your name. You were shocked to find Christian Horner trying to flag you down.

“Y/N!”

“Christian! What a pleasant surprise, I assumed you would be busy.”

“I saw my favorite lawyer walk by, I had to say hello.”

Christian was an interesting character. Admittedly you had not looked forward to working across the table from him initially. He came across as arrogant, hypocritical, and conniving. You thought his only redeeming quality was that he was married to Ginger Spice, but soon found that was only second to how much he cared about Daniel. Given how Daniel departed Red Bull all those years ago, you wrongly assumed that bridge had been burned so you were nervous when you first approached the team for negotiations. It was quickly apparent how unfounded those feelings were after the first email. Christian was there when Daniel made his F1 debut in 2009 as an awkward teenager and watched him grow and molded him into a seasoned driver. It was clear he would give him both kidneys in a pinch.

“Honored and humbled,” you teased. You were almost shouting due to the swarm that quickly surrounded you due to Christian’s presence. You continued walking, “Running away from interviews now, are we?”

“Funny you should say that. I am, because I keep getting some interesting questions about a certain third driver seat.” He was being coy, and knew exactly what he was doing with all the journalists around you. “Are there any updates I can report back on?” He was more persistent than a used car salesman.

“None at the moment, I’m afraid. I promise you’ll be the second person I tell when I do.”

“Second? Who has me beat?”

“Your wife, of course.”

“Maybe if this thing closes, Geri might be open to grab some celebratory drinks.”

“I don’t know Christian, that sounds like a bribe to me.”

“Good seeing you as always, counselor.”

You laughed as you parted ways. You had been able to fly under the radar, until recently when snooty media noticed you going in and out of various meetings. You thought everyone would leave you alone when Christian left, but a few eagle-eyed personnel stayed with you.

“Does this mean that Daniel Ricciardo has a home for next year?”

“Can you confirm Daniel is going to Red Bull?”

“I’m unable to disclose any information, those discussions are protected by attorney-client privilege.”

Legal obligations be damned, the handful of media continued to follow you. You repeated the same statement in eight different ways, you tried ignoring them to no avail. You continued walking, hoping at a certain point they’d give up. Certainly there were at least a hundred other people around the paddock significantly more important and interesting than you.

“I think you guys confused the pretty lady for me?” You recognized the voice immediately. You were thankful for your savior shifting the attention away from you, except that the swarm around you returned ten-fold in an instant. The Australian entertained their questions while helping you navigate the crowd. You knew he and his PR advisor had prepped for this, and you were impressed how he skillfully dodged their questions while making them feel as though they had gotten a profound, headline-worthy snippet.

He fought the instinct to put his hand on your back to help guide you through the mob. You stayed close though, unnerved by the increasing number of people around you. As you continued to walk side-by-side, unsuccessfully willing yourself to become invisible, your fingers grazed. Instinctively, you flinched and pulled your hand away at the contact. He continued engaging with the media but took a moment to meet your eyes. His gaze was not judgmental nor offended, instead offering you reassurance. You realized how silly you were being and dropped your hand. The tips of your pinkies momentarily met again and the warm feeling you felt in the bar before everything went sideways came bubbling back. Only this time it made you feel safe and secure, not scared or embarrassed.

“As fun as this has been guys, I have big plans with some tequila shots and a mariachi band that I must attend to.” Even his excuses could charm the pants off the most scrutinizing reporter. He politely excused the two of you, pulling you away into McLaren hospitality. The doors shut behind you, immediately muffling the outside noise.

“Is it always like that?”

He took one look at you and burst out laughing. You might be able to keep certain thoughts to yourself, but often times your facial expressions gave you away as they did now. Your eyes, wide and unblinking. Your mouth, contorted into downward frown. In the distance, *sirens*.

“Don’t laugh, that was traumatizing!” you whined.

“In all fairness, it didn’t always used to be this bad. But you get used to it.”

“Please, you were born to be in the spotlight. The camera loves you.”

“Just the camera?”

You gave him your most aggressive side eye. It was hardly an appropriate comment given your conversation on press day, but you knew he was just joking. You raised your hands. “You know what, that’s on me. I walked into that one.”

“Had to go for the low hanging fruit.”

You looked around. McLaren hospitality was quiet, but not empty. You hoped no one noticed the light flirtation that was taking place. You changed the topic.

“I forgot to say congratulations on today! You must be so proud of yourself.”

“Yeah, it feels nice.” You know what else feels nice? “It’s been such a long, hard season. Y’know?” You know what else is long and hard? “I’ve just been really pounding away with trainings and everything -” You know what else you can pound?

You smiled and nodded while you continued to tally the that’s-what-she-said jokes and innuendos in your head.

“- and I feel like there’s been this gaping hole -” Surely he has got to hear himself.

You bit your lower lip to keep from giggling and cursed yourself for your filthy mind and having the sense of humor of a twelve year old boy.

“-but all in all it’s been a good day, yeah?” Finally.

“Yes, for sure. I’m really happy for you.” There was a pregnant pause before either of you spoke again. He could tell that you were distracted though he wasn’t sure why. You were concerned about keeping yourself in check.  

“Anyways, this has been lovely as always. Enjoy the rest of your night, I don’t want to keep you from your Mariachi band.”

“You’re not going to celebrate?”

You looked around, again being mindful of potential witnesses. “What are you talking about, we’ve been celebrating your points finish since the end of the race. You go have fun, I was just going to stay here and get some work done until things clear out a bit more.”

“Not for me. It’s Halloween, you know.”

Actually, you had completely forgotten. But you quickly realized where this conversation was heading. “That’s nice.”

“Lando wants to show off his DJ side hustle at some club. It will be fun.”

“Now there’s something spooky,” you said sarcastically.

“You should come.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

The stare down between you continued as you went about your delicate dance around the elephant in the room. He took a step towards you and grabbed you gently by the shoulders.

“Nothing will happen. Promise,” he whispered. You looked up at him.

“I don’t have a costume,” you lightly countered.

“We’ll get you one.”

You pursed your lips. You had a million other excuses in your head, but you trusted him. How could you say no?

-

It had been a while since you had been in a club, and truthfully you weren’t sure you were cut out for it any more as you approached thirty. The flashing lights and heavy bass were giving you a migraine. That being said, it was a very different experience than you remember and being the guest of a VIP had its significant perks. When you got to the venue you almost didn’t even get out of the car when you saw the line down several blocks. As it so happens, when you’re a Formula 1 driver you can skip the line. And get attentive bottle service as opposed to fighting your way to the bar and pray the bartender notices you. Not to mention easy access to the DJ booth. As he had assured you, there were plenty of other people around to act as buffers.

Sure enough, Lando was at the helm of the DJ booth along with his girlfriend and a few of the other drivers and their respective significant others. As soon as the others saw you, they burst out into laughter. If you were ever concerned whether you could ever fit into Daniel’s world, this experience quelled any uncertainty. What Daniel’s skeleton costume lacked in creativity, yours’ made up for in leaps and bounds. Why be a sexy nurse or police officer when you could be American Daniel Ricciardo? American flag bomber jacket, cowboy hat, belt buckle, poorly drawn facial hair and all - which looked even sillier given your short stature. It was clear the resourceful last-minute look was well-received and earned you a warm welcome.  

As the night went on and the drinks flowed, you leaned more into your Danny Ric persona including donning a poor Australian accent. Daniel continued to converse with the other drivers but watched you from a distance, trying to remain respectful of your prior agreement. Even with your face covered in smudged eye makeup to mimic his beard, he loved seeing you in his clothes. You were practically swimming in his jacket and he was sure it was the cutest thing he had ever witnessed. When you thought no one else was looking, you subtly grabbed the collar and gave it a sniff, deeply inhaling the owner’s fragrance.

Seeing you try to pick up his scent caused something primal in him to awaken. In another world he would have put on his usual moves to woo a lady back to his hotel room, which admittedly didn’t take much. First, he would buy you a drink. Then after some short flirty back and forth, he would move the two of you to the dancefloor. He would be behind you while you grinded - in a club packed like this, your bodies would be pressed closely together. He would place his hands on your waist and slowly move them down to your hips, rubbing small circles with his thumbs. Eventually he would leave kisses on the side of your neck, while finding your hands to hold. He would spin you around and ask if you wanted to go back to his place. Inevitably you would say yes, and the two of you would leave and begin your makeout session in the back of his private car to avoid suspicion by nosy paparazzi. Finally when you arrive at your final destination, he would fuck you senseless.

His mind was reeling at the possibilities. But you were no ordinary lady and you didn’t deserve his usual moves. You deserved so much more. And he couldn’t give you any of it.

Meanwhile, the constancy you had to stay away from your muse diminished as the night went on. The champagne was easily accessible and went down even easier. The club was hot and stuffy, though it was unclear if it was from everyone’s collective body heat, the Mexican climate, or both. You decided to take off the jacket, wrapping it around your waist, leaving in you a plain white tank top. It was far from being the most scandalous outfit in the room, but Daniel was doing everything in his power not to stare. It was a stark contrast from the conservative suits and dresses he’d gotten used to seeing you in, showing off every curve of your body. Again, he should have been turned off by the beard makeup alone but it endearingly complimented the cleavage that threatened to spill its way out of your shirt. Eventually you found yourself next to him again.

“G’day mate,” you said tipping his hat. You weren’t sloppy, but it was obvious that your usual social filter was long gone.

“Is that absolutely necessary?”

“What are you talking about, I’m Daniel Ricciardo. This is my voice. Pew pew pew” you gave him some finger guns and blew them out before returning them to their imaginary holsters. He couldn’t help but laugh.

“That is by far the worst Australian accent I’ve ever heard in my life.”

“I can switch to Steve Erwin if you want.”

“Please don’t.” You ignored him.

“Crikey! Here we see the Formula 1 Driver in his natural habitat.” You gestured over to Pierre shamelessly trying to flirt with a model with a bottle of Ace in hand. “Ah yes, the young male has spotted a potential mate. We will now get to witness his intricate mating ritual.”

He watched your face as you continued your animated nature documentary play-by-play of Pierre. He always felt lucky when he got to see this side of you. Silly, unfiltered, and unincumbered by responsibility.  

He leaned into you. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”

“I am. Are you having fun – oh!” Someone had pushed their way past you forcing you to fall into the driver, inadvertently smushing your bodies together. He placed a protective hand on the small of your back further pulling you into him while trying not to spill the drink in his other hand. The buzzing returned with a vengeance. It was hard to ignore the soft of your breasts pressed against his muscly torso. You blushed profusely at the new sensation of your hips meeting, feeling the bulge of his pants against your pelvis.   

“Are you ok?” You finally pulled your bodies away from each other, your cheeks on fire from the heavy and unfamiliar contact.

“Oh I’m fine. But on that note, I should probably head back.” You hoped he would he would attribute your flush to all the champagne you consumed, and prayed your “beard” was covering for you. The fluttering sensation between your legs refused to cease.

“Ok, I’ll call the car.”

“No, no, I can just call an uber it’s fine.”

“You shouldn’t leave by yourself.” It took a minute for you to realize he was looking out for your safety, not inviting himself to your hotel room. You again felt embarrassed at your own misinterpretation.   

“I don’t want to make you leave though, you should keep celebrating.”

“I’ve celebrated enough, I’m happy and tired and ready to go.”

“Are you sure?” He smiled and turned his hand into a fake phone.

“I’m calling it,” he said into his hand. You laughed at the reference to the joke he had with Lando about ‘calling it a day,’ thankful that he found a way to break the tension.

-

The car ride back to the hotel was relatively quiet. You squeezed your legs together to quell the growing heat below your waist and kept your hands in your lap to prevent them from accidentally wandering. Your heart rate had not slowed since you bumped into one another. You closed your eyes to try to center yourself and redirect the energy of your raging hormones.

Two feet away, Daniel was in a very similar situation dealing with his own demons. The smell of your perfume mixed with this own cologne intoxicated him. He forced himself to think of his home in Perth to keep his mind from wondering to all the ways you could be bent right then and there in the back seat.

You thanked the driver getting out of the car. The walk to your respective rooms felt like an eternity. You pressed for your floor when you got in the elevator and waited for him to do the same, but he did not move.

“What floor are you?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walk you to your room.”

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary.”   

“I just want to make sure you’re safe.” You looked at him from the corner of your eye.

“Fine. I’ll allow it.”

You again stood there in silence side by side as you waited to reach your floor. You cursed the mirrored walls of the elevator. With a few drinks in you, you allowed your lidded eyes to wander all over Daniel’s reflection from the neck down. Fortunately for you he didn’t notice your ogling, but only because he was doing the same thing. In the middle of your respective daydreams, your pinkies accidentally grazed again, pulling you back to reality. Your eyes finally met in the mirror.

“Sorry,” you said under your breath, taking a step away from your client.

“All good.” You both diverted your gazes for the rest of the short ride. You got off the elevator and walked to your room.

“Well, this is me.” You paused, finally making eye contact again. “Thanks for inviting me out, I had fun tonight.”

“Me too.”

“Oh, before I forget here’s your hat and jacket.” You went to remove the hat but he stopped you.

“Don’t worry about it, they look better on you anyways.” It was a questionably appropriate line, but he didn’t care. At this point, neither did you.

“I’m not sure when I’ll wear them again, but thanks.” You smiled to yourself, your hands fidgeting with the fabric of his jacket. He was still looking at you when you looked back up. The chatty driver was uncharacteristically quiet. You were both stalling, though it was unclear what for. You decided to rip off the band-aid.

“Good night Mr. Ricciardo, congratulations again.”

“Good night y/n. I’ll see you in Brazil.”

“I’ll see you in Brazil,” you repeated.

When the door shut, he placed his hand on it for a moment. His mind, again, going to all of the places that were off-limits. With a sigh he left for his room.

On the other side, you leaned your head against the door and squeezed your eyes shut. Sloppily undoing your jeans, you stuck a hand down your underwear to offer relief from the building tension. You were soaked. With reckless abandon, you grabbed your vibrator and shamelessly indulged yourself in the filthiest fantasies regarding your client the rest of the night.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @wewoo1233 @monzabee

[genocidehim]

Nacho secretly falling for Lalo's trophy wife and she not so subtly likes him back

notes: render is female, angst, marital problems, emotional neglect. words: 2715 part. 2 here

1. keep in mind that if Lalo as a husband seems disgusting here, it's because I'm basing it on the common archetype of the Mexican drug lord! don't kill me, I'm just trying to give some realism to the matter.

2. This could have more chapters, I really liked the dynamics!! Just ask for more and I'll make them.

Since Lalo's return to Mexico, many things had changed, but many remained the same.

Life in Mexico was pleasant and peaceful despite all the inconveniences brought by the criminal life. You were Eduardo Salamanca's wife, a man who was quite respected in Don Eladio's cartel, which gave you and your family some status.

You met Lalo about three years ago, when by chance, you both became emotionally involved. He was an attentive and somewhat arrogant man, like any man involved in organized crime. Lalo loved to shower you with gifts and treat you like a queen. He even proposed to you not long after and took you to live with him in his house.

Although married life with Lalo seemed like a dream, it was much more problematic than you imagined. Lalo was an obsessive man with his work and would typically not spend time at home, much less with you. Once he had you in his house, he began to neglect you because he no longer saw the point in chasing you. He had you under his power. Although he was still quite thoughtful and romantic, it was almost a rarity. Lalo was mostly away from home working, and there were days when you didn't see him at all. Not to mention, he didn't sleep with you most nights due to his strange sleeping behavior.

Over the years, you seemed to have grown accustomed to staying at home without expecting him at night, and due to the danger of going out, you stayed at home while watching the employees work and converse. You were not a prisoner, but you felt like one.

You no longer had friends, your family was not happy with your decision to marry a criminal and they avoided you. You didn't see your husband, and you had forgotten the last time you had spoken to anyone other than the house employees.

Lalo had priorities, and his wife was not among them. His family and his business came first.

When he had to leave for Albuquerque urgently due to business problems, you couldn't even say goodbye before finding out he was already in another country. However, that was already a habit and it didn't even make you sad anymore.

You lived alone in a house where the only people who talked to you were those who were paid a salary. Living in luxuries that you could not enjoy and feeling like just another decoration in Lalo's expensive house.

And technically, that's what you were. Just the beautiful wife that Lalo showed off at parties.

That's why when you heard the shots and a car skid through the entrance of the house, you guessed that he had returned, not knowing how many weeks or months had passed.

You took the time to fix yourself up before going downstairs. Your mood was much lower than on previous occasions, and you felt less excited to receive your husband because that meant having to make yourself hopeful only to be abandoned again without even being able to say goodbye.

You went down the stairs and walked to the entrance of the house after seeing all the employees welcoming Lalo with applause and smiles. You walked towards them and gave your best smile to Lalo, who quickly gave you a big hug and a kiss on the lips to which you tried to respond.

"¡Al fin veo a la niña de mis ojos!" Lalo held your face and gave you another kiss on the lips. "How has the queen of my heart been?"

Lalo's gentle and sweet voice awakened something in you, that love that you used to suppress when he was away. Little by little, you were regaining the excitement of having him home, and your eyes lit up when you saw him.

"Missing you... Last time I couldn't say goodbye to you."

"Ay mi niña... Did I leave you too abandoned?"

Lalo wrapped his arms around you while speaking in a sweeter and more mellow tone, caressing your hair as if you were just a little girl who needed attention. Shortly after, he let go of you and smiled widely as he put his hand on your back to keep you close to him.

"You still haven't met Ignacio! I want to introduce you to him. He's going to stay in the house for a while; he's a friend of mine."

You looked at the man Lalo was introducing you to and felt a small pang in the pit of your stomach. A strange sensation filled your body as you kept a warm smile while getting to know him.

Ignacio seemed your age, much shorter than Lalo, but what he lacked in height, he made up for in muscle because, yes, the first thing you noticed was how well that red shirt he was wearing fit him.

"Pleasure to meet you, Ignacio," you said as you extended your hand to introduce yourself. He hesitated, but eventually took your hand and shook it with little force.

When Nacho first laid eyes on you, he knew that you would be his downfall.

The days in the house didn't seem so boring to you anymore, and they were less stressful for Nacho.

Most of the time, Lalo seemed to be more occupied with fixing his cars and taking care of his horses than paying attention to you. He thought it was enough to have you at night and see you at breakfast, and he didn't seem too interested in playing the loving husband if he had more important things to do. It was something that Nacho noticed almost instantly.

Nacho was more observant, subtly noticing how you seemed to be seeking Lalo's attention while he seemed interested in other things. How you flirted with him at every opportunity you had, and how Lalo seemed to completely ignore it, offering you a credit card as a solution to your flirting, thinking that was all you needed from him.

Over time, Nacho discovered that Lalo wasn't just a man obsessed with the Cartel and his family, but they were his top priorities above his young and beautiful wife.

And then came the interest. Nacho started seeing you with different eyes when one of those days when Lalo wasn't home, you asked him to accompany you to a clothing store to replenish your wardrobe, and he was the first spectator to see you in clothes that were quite revealing, with the excuse of "wanting to know his opinion."

You weren't subtle, and neither was he.

The topic began to escalate when the factor of physical attraction came into play. Some afternoons, he would wear slightly tighter shirts or even sleeveless shirts to subtly show off his body in front of you. Other times, you took advantage of the heat to dress more lightly and walk around the house showing more skin. They were so subtle with the signals that no one would think it was intentional.

It was one of those strange mornings where you had a slight argument with Lalo before he had to leave to Don Eladio's house despite having plans with you that day. Lalo had his priorities and you weren't one of them.

It was insulting and it saddened you how everything had cooled down so much, now you could only watch Lalo's horses while reflecting on things in your life. In the distance, you heard Nacho's jovial voice, which seemed strange to you.

"Weren't you with Eduardo?" you asked curiously.

"No, he asked me to stay here resting while he did other things."

You nodded with disdain and gave him a forced smile before refocusing your attention on the galloping horses. Nacho felt a little more courageous and approached you to talk more privately without looking too obvious.

"Everything okay?" he asked as he leaned on the railing that contained the horses.

"Yes... I'm just a little bored of being in this house..."

"You're always at home, you should go out with your friends or do something else."

Nacho realized he had touched on a sensitive topic for you because your gaze saddened and you turned it away from him.

"I don't have many friends... Especially now that Mexico is so dangerous and there are so many kidnappings of narco families..."

Ignacio couldn't remember that, probably because the place where they were was quite safe and well-protected, but it was true that Mexico was much more dangerous now with organized crime so rampant.

"And why don't you invite those friends here?"

"I don't have friends, Ignacio," you said seriously as you gave him a cold and serious look. It was embarrassing for you to have to reveal that part of your life because it was admitting that you were just Lalo's trophy wife, that woman who was only in his house waiting to be the incubator of his children.

"I'm sorry... I had no idea."

"I thought you had already noticed, everyone notices it instantly..."

An awkward silence lingered in which both were unable to speak no matter how much they wanted to break the silence. Nacho hesitated if it was respectful to ask more about it, and you wondered if it was appropriate to talk about your marriage with one of your husband's friends.

"... Would you like to have lunch with me?"

Your question caught Nacho off guard for a moment as he didn't know how to respond. When he looked at you and saw you smiling with a sad expression on your face, he felt the need to accept.

"Lunch together?"

"Yes, we were supposed to have lunch all together, but Lalo had to go to Don Eladio's and I imagine he'll eat there..."

"I don't want to sound nosy, but... why didn't he take you with him?"

"To where? To Don Eladio's house?" You chuckled before continuing. "I don't go to those kinds of meetings, they never let wives attend the meetings."

"I understand…" Nacho recalled his last encounter at Don Eladio's house and was able to piece things together. Those gatherings were typically focused solely on the cartel: alcohol, cocaine, women… things that most husbands would hide from their marriages. And although Nacho knew that Lalo wasn't particularly interested in getting involved with other women, he couldn't guarantee it 100%. Not when he knew very well how the narco behavior was in Mexico.

"You've been to one of those gatherings, haven't you?" You asked curiously, turning around to face him. Nacho felt somewhat out of himself having you so close, normally when he spoke to someone he kept a considerable distance, but now you were just an arm's length away and he could smell the expensive perfume you were wearing.

"Just one, it was when Lalo introduced me to Eladio."

"And… is it true that there are girls at those gatherings?"

The sad look you gave Nacho was enough to break his heart. It hurt to see a young girl like you feeling so insecure about her marriage, a marriage that seemed more like a sentence in jail.

"There are always girls, Mrs. Salamanca…"

"Don't call me that… you can call me by my name." You felt some discomfort remembering that you were also a Salamanca, but not part of the family, just an extension that would one day serve to bear and give birth to true Salamancas.

Nacho nodded and watched you in silence as you seemed immersed in your own thoughts, with an unreadable expression on your face. Ignacio often didn't understand Lalo, and this only made him have a more abstract idea of what kind of man he was. He knew that Lalo had a strong connection to his family and always did everything for their benefit, but... Wasn't his wife also his family? How was it possible for him to abandon such a pleasant woman like you in a house like this? It was almost like a castle where you were locked up. Nacho wasn't very knowledgeable about many things, but he could easily deduce that you were depressed.

Those thoughts made something inside him stir. He couldn't conceive the idea of a woman like you losing her youth and life locked up in this house. Nacho wondered if your love for Lalo was so great that you allowed it, but was it right?

"So... do you want to have lunch with me?"

Your question brought him back to reality and he nodded, giving you a kind smile to which you responded with your own.

Both decided to take their lunch to one of the tables outside the house. Sweet Yolanda prepared Chilaquiles rojos and some natural juice to drink as they talked with more privacy outside of the house. The atmosphere was cool, the heat no longer felt as present, and the fresh air messed up your hair as you tried to keep it away while eating, eliciting laughter from Ignacio.

"Provecho! I hope you like it. I told Yolanda to make this especially for you."

Nacho's sweet gaze watched you with affection as he thanked you politely. Nacho's gaze seemed more focused on watching you than on the lunch he had in front of him. He was enchanted by you, not only were you beautiful, but you also seemed very affectionate and charismatic, and Nacho imagines that you would be a good wife and mother with those incredible qualities.

Nacho's heart beats strongly and he begins to wonder if it's really right to think of you that way, his boss's wife. However, he can't deny that being beside you really makes him happy.

"I wish Lalo could eat with us…"

The mere mention of Lalo's name made Nacho feel repulsed.

"Maybe tomorrow it could happen."

"I doubt it… He never has lunch with me, only breakfast and dinner."

"Lalo is a busy man..." Ignacio can't believe he's defending that man as you look at him with sadness. "I don't think he does it on purpose."

You let out a sigh and set your fork aside. You're tired, as if your pent-up emotions are about to overflow. You feel the words coming and speak up;

"I shouldn't be talking about these things, but... Sometimes I feel like I'm just a decoration in this house."

The sadness in your words really moved Nacho, who gave you a sad look seeing how distressed you were.

"Lalo only needs me when he wants to show off his beautiful wife... Sometimes he just talks about the pretty children I can give him, how obedient I am, that I never give him any trouble..."

Nacho stared at you with a sadness on his face. He could see how your beautiful eyes had no shine and only held sadness and loneliness... The idea that you felt that way crushed him deeply and only gave him more reason to despise Lalo.

What kind of man could be so cold to his wife? The kind of man who only cared about his business, and Lalo was like that.

It hurt Nacho to hear you describe yourself as useless, it hurt to hear you call yourself a "decoration" in your own home.

"God... I'm sorry I told you this, I don't know what came over me... I don't think I've ever had a chance to get it off my chest." You sighed, feeling the air in your lungs become heavier, holding back the urge to cry as you tried to regain your composure. "Don't tell Lalo I told you this... He'd be so angry with me if he found out."

He has to maintain his composure to not get lost in his emotions. He wishes so much he could stand up and embrace you in his arms, caress you, and tell you everything will be okay, to let you know that you are not really the things you think of yourself… However, he has to restrain himself, it's a bad idea, it's a terrible idea that he's starting to feel things for Lalo's wife.

"I won't tell him, I promise. Trust me."

The warmth of his words had really managed to take away some of your sadness. With some reassurance, you took Nacho's hand and gave it a little squeeze before thanking him. And Nacho felt like he had won heaven just by touching you.

[torch-the-throne]

My assessment on which Richmond players are likely to play for their national teams, based on an unscientific combo of FIFA stats, quotes, and vibes (discussion under the cut). 

Dani: absolutely. According to the FIFA stats, Dani is in the top 30 strikers in the world, and sits comfortably above the average Mexican attacker score. Brief run of injuries/yips aside, Dani would surely be one of Mexico’s star players.

Colin: perhaps surprisingly, yes. Most of the current Welsh team come from the lower leagues, so as a Premier League player Colin has a decent chance of making the team- not only is he in the top 30 world left midfielders, but were he part of the current Welsh national team he’d be their 3rd highest ranked player. Nate might have told Colin he didn’t inspire, but Nate is clearly out of touch with all the Welsh kids who are too hipster to call Gareth Bale their favourite.

Thierry: yes, but as a sub. Goalies are tricky, and unfortunately for Zoreaux it’s unlikely he’d make it as Canada’s #1. But, he’d absolutely be a sensible choice for a reserve goalie based on his stats, and if things change he could well join the starting 11.

Jamie: yes/no/yes. Boy, the whole quitting Man City and finding it tricky to be a team player really makes it hard for Jamie. I can imagine him as frequenting the reserve bench for England in his early years, before being dropped from the roster for a while, then making a comeback to the starting 11 later on. The man’s joint 10th in the world as an attacking centre mid, and now he’s showing both commitment and maturity he’d be a great addition to England’s strong set of strikers.

Sam: soon. The only reason why I didn’t have Sam down as currently playing for his national team is because in series 1 he explicitly states it’s still a dream for his future. According to the FIFA stats he’s the 3rd highest ranked Nigerian player, and 13th in the world for his position. Sam can, should, must, and will make the national team.

Isaac: maaaaaybe. Whilst Isaac sits below the average for an England defender, he’s still well within the numerical range to make the team. I can see him being a solid choice for the national squad, but unlikely to be consistently making the starting 11.

Moe, Richard, and Jan: no. Sorry. Unfortunately for these three, their country’s teams are full of damn good players. If Moe can cash in a Scottish grandma I’m sure he’d make the national team in an instant, but he’s unlikely to be a mainstay for England.

Roy: once upon a time. I have no idea if Roy’s FIFA stats are from his prime or from his last years at Richmond, but either way Roy gives off peak “nation’s old favourite” vibes. He’s been a captain, he’s played with Chelsea in their prime, he’s respected enough to be offered a pundit position: Roy absolutely served the England team for many years. Why else would little Mancunian Jamie Tartt idolise him so?

(Disclaimer to all this: ofc I know national teams don’t pick their players based on a single number, and I haven’t been fully into football since Alan Shearer was the UK’s darling. Feel free to debate!)

[burningdreambanana]

Tom Riddle was actually always pretty stupid and incompetent

Book 1 : I understand why he couldn't get the stone from the mirror but why did it take him so long to get passed three obstacles so easy three eleven years old were able to do it? Also apparently he has the ability to travel as a spirit form and take control of a humane body so why did he wait in a forest for a decade instead of paying a visit to one of his death eathers in liberty and try to get his body back?

Book 2 : Opening the chamber in the 1940s was pretty stupid when you remember that Dumbledore knows he's a Parseltongue and thus a likely descendant of Slytherin making a primary suspect. The only reason he got away with it is because Dumbledore yet again kept crucial information to himself instead of informing the authorities who could have used Veritaserum to get the truth out of him. Also him and the Basilik only managed to kill one person despite all their attempts which is pretty weak. His plan to kill Harry was based entirely on a twelve-year-old being able to rapidly find where the Chamber was (something not even Dumbledore had been able to do in decades) and going there alone (what if Harry had asked McGonagall to come instead of Lockart?). Also he forgot about Phoenix healing powers which is very stupid for someone who is supposed to be so knowledgeable

Book 4 : His convulated plan only worked because Barty Crouch and Harry are actually competent and some dumb luck. What if Harry had failed despite Barty's (relatively small) help? What if he had not to really try since he and Dumbledore know the whole thing is most likely a trap? What if Cedric had been a little bit more selfish and actually grabbed the Cup alone when Harry told him to? Also him torturing his own followers is pretty stupid. And he had Harry at his mercy, why did he felt the need to untie Harry and duel him? How is he not embarrassed to show his followers he wants to prove his more powerful than a fourteen years old? Where's the dignity?

Book 5 : His plan was even more stupid and convulated, and once again relied on incredible luck. He expected a fifteen year old to escape school, break into the Department of Mysteries without being caught where his Death Eaters would also have been able to safely infiltrate and he also expected his Deaths Eaters to be able to take back the prophecy to him without being caught. So my question is, if it's so easy to get in and out of the Ministry, why not just do it himself? Instead of relying on such a shaky plan that took him all year and relied on Harry not being able to contact Sirius (if he had used the mirror, or only been able to do the floo call some time later all could have changed). Also he supposedly did all that because he was scared of even the small possibility of being seen at the Ministry and yet after waiting all year, he ruins it all by showing up anyway

Book 6 : Not sure why he wastes so much energy trying to punish Lucius. Just ask Severus to kill Dumbledore at the beginning of the year and stop wasting time. I get that the memory with Slughorn functions like an exposition scene to the Horcruxes but you have to wonder why Tom thought Slughorn would know if it's safe to do seven horcruxes? It's not like he ever seemed to be particularly knowledgeable in dark magic and he doesn't get an answer anyway. Also why didn't he kill him a long time ago? For someone who cared so much about immortality, the way Riddle acted about his Horcruxes is ridiculously stupid and careless : Ok, I get that he feels only special objects are worthy of his precious soul but why oh why did he also decided to hid them in places significant to him? Why not throw the locket into to bottom of some enchanted well in Mexico? Or keep the diadem hidden in some tree in Albania? Or keep the ring on his finger ? Like the second he thought about it for a minute he realized there was a chance Dumbledore knew about the cave and his link to the Gaunts. It's so short-sighted. He also apparently decided to never check on them even though it only takes a few hours as we saw at the end of Book 7, otherwise he would have find out that Regulus had stole the locket and been more wary.

Book 7 : Humiliates his most faithful and skilled Death Eather (Bellatrix) for no reason. After failing to kill Harry yet again at the Battle of the Seven Potters you'd think someone actually smart would sit down and reconsider the whole thing and dive deep into how love protection magic works and wand lore. But no he just decides he needs a more powerful wand (very primitive) and wastes months looking for it everywhere even though Dumbledore's grave seems like a pretty good way to start. Uses Avada Kadavra on Harry yet again in the forest. I'm not one of these people who think he should have used a gun or even had a Death Eater do it necessarily but there are other spells that can kill. Why not simply set Harry on fire or have him choke to death. And what's funnier is that he still relied on Avada Kadavra in their final duel, what did he thought, fifth time the charm? And why did he rely on Narcissa to check on him? I thought he was supposed to not really trust anyone but himself? Heck he could have had her check if he was so scared of Harry and then go himself to make sure it's true.

Finally, it's pretty weird how Voldemort was aware of his connexion with Harry, even used it but never seemed to wonder why it existed. Maybe if he would have, he could have guessed that Harry was a Horcrux.

To end this rant I want to say that while I still love Harry Potter (these books are much funnier than I realized as a kid) Voldemort is just a very sad villain : he spent ten years working in retail (lol), ten years practising dark magic somewhere (ok pretty cool), tried and failed to become a teacher (lol), spent more than a decade trying and failing to take over Wizarding Britain despite the Ministry being super incompetent and corrupt and having many prominent families on his side (lol), more than a decade as a spirit form in Albania, two years doing god knows what and then actually took over Britain for nine months before dying at the age of 72.

[the-ace-with-spades]

Relating to this post, a snippet of the different first meeting/secret identity au fic (I think I'll stick with exhumation as the title):

The MacTavish House, Erskine, Renfrewshire, Scotland December 2017

Johnny got a call on Christmas Day.

Unknown number, with the Greater Manchester code at the beginning. He missed it, busy helping his Da and sisters with the tree decorating, but when the notification showed up on his Samsung, he felt something heavy drop from his throat to his stomach.

Simon hadn't been answering his texts, yesterday and today.

He was doing, well, not well, but better. He knew he was cleared to go back to work, finally, even if on a limited duty for a couple of months, but he was still having the PTSD episodes, still wasn't sleeping, still was on a constant high-vigilance and it didn't sit right with him. Even months later, everyone was worried about him — his mum, Tommy, Beth — but John wasn't sure they actually understood the extent Simon's issues run. John had opted to ignore it, for the sake of not arguing with Simon, but Simon's family seemed to have a very distorted image of him, like he was this invincible man capable of holding them all together, solving all their problems and never really needing much care himself.

It was easy to fall for the image — Simon, the unmovable wall of a man, standing guard over all of them — and John had fallen for it himself, just to have it shattered when Simon walked away from his grave after whatever happened that had him declared MIA for almost six months. The Simon that came back seemed the same now, to anyone who didn’t look closely, but John knew something died in him in the time he grieved his disappearance.

He loved him all the same.

It didn’t matter if he had nightmares through the nights they were in the same bed, it didn’t matter if he stayed awake and unmoving under John’s arms, it didn’t matter if he spaced out and stared at people’s faces like he could see their bare bones smiling at him, it didn’t matter if he kept scratching at the gnarly scars, opening them again and again. He was still John’s Simon.

He hadn't felt good about leaving him alone for the three days he’d be in Scotland, but it was his first Christmas back since he came—back, and Simon wanted to spent it with his family and not John’s and insisted John went, seeing as he didn't have many opportunities to meet his family much either.

“Promise I’ll try to meet your ma for Easter,” he had told John. He wasn’t sure how much of that promise would actually be kept — John didn’t think Simon would be doing that much better by Easter.

It was just three days and then John would be back in Manchester with the G Squad during the day and Simon during the evening.

He tried to find a quiet place. Impossible with half of their family in his parents’ house, but after shushing one of his nephews out of the living room and sending off his ma back to the kitchen after a couple of, “Yes, A’ll tell him ye’re sending love, ma, even though Am not even callin’ him reit noo,” and a promise to help her season the meat. He stood in the corner, not too far away from the Christmas tree, watching the snow moul their empty laundry line.

He called back the Manchester number.

It kept on ringing and ringing, and he was about to give up when he heard, “Detective Sergeant Wright speaking.”

Chapter 1 will most likely also have those scene headings:

Interrgoration Room, Unnamed Base, New Mexico, USA January 2018

(which is Price & Ghost)

Unnamed Joint Base, Classified Location, Urzikistan October 2022

Unspecified Location, near Verdansk, Kastovia March 2021

(Soap joining the task force)

[soft-and-bitter]

maybe you could be the one (3)

Chris Evans x Personal Assistant!Reader

Part 1 Part 2

You try figuring out what to do next after Chris goes and publicly admits that he needs you more than anything. Worse, he isn't done just yet.

Word Count: 1.9k

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging or leaving some feedback, thanks! ❤

Despite your close proximity to Chris, few actually take notice of you. That's no accident on your part, though. In your opinion, it's one of the reasons why you've done well in the role thus far and partly why you might've landed the job somewhat precipitously in the first place: you really know how to sink into the background. Your clothing is professional but terribly non-descript, with only the barest hint of a family heirloom peaking out beyond your collar; your makeup, while deftly applied, is minimal. The message is clear: Chris is the star of the show. Period. Any member of staff, especially a personal assistant, is relegated to obscurity.

So it's rather unpleasant of a surprise to feel so many pairs of eyes on you, slithering along the spine of your back, the bare surface of your forearms. People are meant to see you then forget you as soon as Chris so much as drifts into their periphery, but their lingering gazes today suggests otherwise. You've only introduced yourself to a handful of the crew members here, and never once did you actually mention that you're Chris' PA. With the way you hover about him, though, it shouldn't be too hard to put two and two together.

Even as the interview draws to a close and the last animal is ushered off the set, you're still not able to find any sign on his face whatsoever to indicate whether he's affected by his own admission; not a pause of surprise, nor a guilty frown. Nada. Chris just sails on smoothly like the seasoned celebrity he is, never once wavering, his hearty laughter infectious, his body language open and brimming with affection.

You, on the hand, are another story. Hand gripping your work phone like some talisman, you try to hide the mortification you fear might've made it onto your face, Chris' words racing through your head on an endless loop. That, and the various ways you might be able to murder him without getting caught. Throw him overboard a cruise moving through the middle of the Gulf of Mexico, maybe? Maritime laws are more lax when it comes to murder, if you're recalling correctly from that Netflix documentary you watched not so long ago...

I sure don't think I could live without her.

Did he really have to say that? More importantly, why are you so concerned he was being genuine when he did? That's the thing that bothers you: the spontaneity of it all. Well, you think it was, anyway. But was it? Who can say when dealing with an actor like him?

The set breaks into joyful applause once the cut is yelled. Like a spell broken, there's a sudden flurry of motion as crew members continue about the rest of their day; you move aside as one of the cameramen wheels his equipment across the studio. When you look back to find Chris, he's already meandered off the set with one of the animal keepers, nodding emphatically at whatever's being said.

You take a deep breath before exhaling slowly, trying to chase away the same words that keep running through your mind, the one you want to throttle Chris for. The interview's finished, you remind yourself, and most of the crew have already gone back to their day. Now it's time for you to go back to yours, especially when there's still such a long way go to before it's done.

Chris is in the middle of a hug as you approach slowly, still trying to expel any trepidation that clings to you. You pause just a few steps back while he agrees to some selfies that the remaining crew members ask for, but as soon as he catches sight of you, Chris grins widely. You feel multiple sets of eyes on you again, their gazes focused a bit too long. Damn it.

"Onward, soldier?" Chris says by way of greeting, moving towards you. In response you smile back, determined to keep it cool. Nothing to see here folks, you want to assure everyone still hovering about, only you suspect that that may pique their curiosity even further.

"Yes, onward. But hey, don't expect another menagerie at the Shangri-La. Or anywhere else, for that matter." That gets a few light chuckles out of those still remaining.

He winks at you, blue eyes sparkling with calm mischief. "Too bad. I just love it when things get freed from their cages once in a while."

Even once you're both in the SUV, heading off to the next location for the day's final stretch of press work, you hesitate to bring up what just transpired. Now that you've left Venturepop Media behind you, its main studio no larger than a spot in the rear windscreen, most of your mortification must've stayed back too. You're still mildly vexed, not to mention confused, but at least murder is no longer on your mind.

The car is charged with silence as Melvin, today's chauffeur, navigates down a street already congested. The bodyguard assigned for this leg of the tour sits beside him, wordless. You realize, a bit suddenly, that too long an unspoken moment might be dangerous; it means more time for the both of you to think about what happened. Now that you've got some of your bearings together, you realize you don't want to upset the equilibrium.

"Those animals made a mess on your shirt," you comment, sitting beside him. Your intentions aside, it's quite true.

You watch as Chris shifts his gaze downward. He pulls at an unruly cluster of red fur on his right shoulder. "What are you going to do about it?"

The SUV slows for a red light as you unzip your knapsack. The lint roller you're searching for is hidden beneath a pack of Chris' Marlboros and a tightly bundled chord for phone charging; you dig it out as the car accelerates again. "It's either this or another shirt," you respond, holding up the roller in a way not totally unlike the rubber slipper your mom used for doling out punishment when you were younger.

"Which shirt are we talking about?" he asks.

"It's the one Leland thought you'd look dynamite in until you somehow managed to talk him out of it."

"Well, looks like the universe has spoken," he says, pulling the ends of his shirt from the waistband of his pants. Before you can even protest, Chris is already pulling the yellow Gucci top over his head in the cramped space of the SUV, chest bared to you and everyone else present. Those in the front of the car say nothing. It seems they've been exposed to stranger sights just as much as you have.

You meant to suggest he change over at the Shangri-La, but the words die in your throat and you sigh quietly instead, turning in your seat to reach behind it, where a garment bag hangs from an attached hook.

"Just so you know, I meant what I said back there."

You freeze. Fuck.

Another silence prevails, this one more potent than the last. You're still facing away from him, thank god; is it possible for you to pretend you just didn't hear?

"Ditto, I think you need to say something."

Guess not.

You turn back to face him again, Chris' new shirt in your hands. "Couldn't you have just stuck with Dodger?"

He takes the shirt from you. "I could've, but you know what? I decided I didn't want to. Besides, I never mentioned you by name and you're leaving me soon, so there's nothing to worry about if you think this is going to blow up in your face or something like that. It won't."

Maybe it's the nonchalance in his tone as he speaks, but something in you tears open. Curiosity? Confusion? A bit of both? Whatever it is, it's fueling your courage rapidly.

"Chris, you just publicly admitted you can't live without me."

"And yet you're leaving anyway."

A response bubbles in your mouth, but it's a shriek that erupts from your throat instead as you land hard against Chris while the SUV makes a violent swerve, the move so sudden and heart-stopping you blank out completely, all your thoughts dropping off a mental cliff like it didn't know was there.

A car horn blares, long and obnoxious and angry; it's Melvin doing that, you realize. "This dumb asshole," you hear him curse before he looks around his headrest. "Sorry, friends," he says.

"Wouldn't mind getting to the next spot in one piece," Chris jokes, one strong wrapped protectively around your shoulder, his other hand splayed against the tinted passenger window for purchase. "You okay?" he asks, looking down at you. The hard band of his Rolex digs into your shoulder, but it also works to remind you that you're still here and alive.

Your heart pace is just beginning to normalize as you raise yourself back into an upright position, brushing off his arm. "I'm fine, thanks. Are you okay? Is the shirt okay? I won't hear the end of it from Leland if it's not."

Chris straightens his collar with a dramatic flourish. "The shirt will remain intact."

"Speaking of things remaining intact," you begin, just as you catch the first sight of the Shangri-La in Chris' passenger window, "we're good for the rest of your interviews today, right? As in, no more going off-script like you just did?"

He leans back against the leather seat, arms folded before him. "I guess that depends. Are you going to free up one of my evenings while we're in Seoul like I've been asking you to?"

You hold back a sigh. There's more yet to unpack regarding Chris' behaviour, but the idea that he might pull this act again when you know his publicist is already going to call you up before the week closes does not bode well for you. It's Marianne who will sign off on the final cut of that Venturepop interview; you realize, with no small measure of relief, that she'll likely have the Kit Kat segment pulled out entirely. Who's to say what she'll make of the following interviews, though?

"Buddy, I'm trying. Right now the best I can do is smuggle you out of that Hyundai afterparty you promised Nick you'd attend. And come on now, you've already experienced South Korea enough times before, haven't you?"

There's a firm set in his jaw. "Are you going to work your magic for me or not?"

You hesitate, silently cursing Bong Joon-Ho or whoever it was he was trying to score brownie points with through this little foray in Seoul. Wasn't it Chris himself who mentioned to you that the director was set to make another movie in English? You can already imagine the stories he'll post on his Instagram, though you doubt Bong would be that impressed with such meagre level of devotion. Honestly, though? Whatever.

"If I do this, you'll keep to the script for the rest of today and the rest of the tour," you state. This would be it, your final push.

Without warning Chris reaches out, long fingers brushing strands of hair away from your face and over the curve of your ear. "Done."

You don't get much chance to react; through his passenger window, you can see a valet attendant pull his door open. Chris turns away from you to get out, but just as quickly whips his head back.

"And ditto? Make sure to be free that evening."



Chris being like, 'if I can't bargain with her to stay, I'll bargain with her for a date lol.'

I'm sure it's obvious, but in case it's not I am playing hard and loose with the location, Chris' career timeline, everything y'all. If I had to place this story anywhere, I'd say it's when he was promoting Avengers: Endgame in 2019, but a pre-pandemic setting is really all you need to remember for the sake of this. Huge thanks to everyone that reblogged or left feedback, which includes but is not limited to:

@emoalien69 @peteseyy @themorningsunshine @lovenewfandoms @pono-pura-vida @@she-wolf09231982 @blondekel77 @hopefulbonkvoidland @ghostlychaostimemachine @sully-stick-together @kookiemonster221 @rebloggingfanfictioninthechaos @sapphire-rogers @secondevilex @mansaaay @marvelstarker-mha98

[such-a-barbarian]

🚄 w e e k ly 🌊 t a g ✨w e d n e s d a y ✈️

Thank you as always to @mybrainismelted and @jrooc for the tags!

_____________________

Name: Kell

Age: mid to late 30s

Location: the great white north!

we're going on a trip!! woot woot!

📍where are we going? Seeing as this time next week I will be Mexico, let's go early!

📍whats the weather like there right now? Warm and Sunny!

📍are you an over-packer or a light-packer? oh boy - chronic over-packer! Why do I need 10 pairs of underwear for a 7 day trip when I will be in swimsuit 90% of time? I DON'T KNOW OK! 

📍are we taking a plane or a train? I don't think you can get there by train and if you could it would take far too long. Plane it is!

📍early morning departure or an overnight trip? Seeing as there is no time change between here and there I prefer early morning. If there was a significant time change then I'd prefer overnight.

📍what song are you playing in the car while we drive to catch our departure? Probably whatever is on the radio.

📍we need to grab something on the way, starbucks or dunkin? Neither. I don't drink coffee. But since we are on an early morning flight I am stopping at McDonalds for a McMuffin and a hashbrown

📍we've made it to the transportation place 🚂✈️! be honest, are we on-time or are we rushing because we're running late? on-time. In fact, I am probably over an hour early. Being late gives me the most anxiety. If I'm not somewhere at least 10 minutes early I panic.

📍are you taking the window seat or the aisle seat? Window for sure. 1) I love watching the world get small. 2) I need to know when we are about to hit the tarmac.

📍we're settled in our seats, are you gonna read or watch a movie/show? Unlike my trip next week, for this pretend trip my kids aren't with me, so in that case I will be reading.

📍what are you reading/watching? So much fanfic. I currently have 92 fics on the "marked for later" list, so probably one of those.

📍are you using wireless or wired headphones? wired. I do not own wireless headphones. Actually, I'll be lucky if I can find my wired ones before the flight...

📍are you going to take a nap or stay awake? Chances are pretty good I will fall asleep at some point.

📍do you want a salty snack or a sweet snack? both?  Yes. (excellent choice Jess)

📍we've arrived! are we heading straight to activities or are we gonna rest at the hotel? Head to the hotel just long enough to drop the suitcases and change into a swimsuit, then it's immediately to the beach for me.

📍finally, pick a treat to reward yourself for a travel day well done! Something fruity and slushy and alcoholic with a tiny umbrella.

Also including this picrew! Forever in a hoodie.

tagging @francesrose3 @juliakayyy @tanktopgallavich @transmickey @babygirlmickey @zutaralesbian @lupeloto and @krysmiss if ya wanna.

[reality-detective]

⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️ HURRICANE UPDATE ⚠️ ⚠️ ⚠️

I've been doing a little research and trying to connect some dots with some information about hurricane Idalia. First off I will start with this article 👇

There are a few things that jumped out at me in this article.

#1 - Hurricane Hunters made their first flights into Tropical Storm Idalia on Sunday, launching what will be one of the largest sequences of flights and weather-balloon launches carried out in years to monitor a potential Atlantic hurricane.

#2 - The reconnaissance plan issued on Saturday included a flurry of NOAA and Air Force flights that began on Sunday to monitor Idalia as well as potent Hurricane Franklin, which will remain well east of the United States (see below). The biggest question marks on Sunday were how large and strong Idalia will be at landfall and where exactly on the Florida Gulf Coast it will arrive.

These 👆 alone should be making you ask questions, but let's continue. 👇

Contaminated gasoline? 🤔

Citgo has released the following list of affected Florida gas stations:👇

Most of these are along the western side of Florida. Where is Idalia tracking? The West side of Florida. 👇

Widespread Gasoline Contamination & Diesel

The stations affected by the contamination have been asked to stop selling gasoline until the fuel is replaced and the tanks are cleaned.

MY THOUGHTS: 👇

I'm getting Maui vibes... Right before a major tropical storm/hurricane? Thousands, if not possibly hundreds of thousands of vehicles affected, as well as home generators...

This is beginning to smell like sabotage. 🤔

I saw a list of states where possible DEW attacks may take place.

Here's that list: 👇

There were 15 states on a list that showed possible planned DEW Attacks in the future...

Texas, Arizona, Montana, New Jersey, New Mexico, Washington, Oregon, Colorado, Florida, California, Nevada, Idaho, Wyoming, Utah and Oklahoma.

I don't want to create any fear with this, I'm just pointing some things out, I'm trying to connect some dots so people can be aware and prepare for the worst.

Am I right? >>> Is it Florida's turn?

We're about to find out... 🤔

Last comment: 👇

I have been in hurricanes multiple times and I have listened to the local news many times and this one started out as being a cat 1 at landfall, then it was said to be a cat 2 now less than 24 hours later they are saying it will be a powerful cat 3 and it will continue to intensify up until landfall so could it be a cat 4 at landfall? Possibly because I keep hearing the term "Rapid Intensification" more than any other hurricane I have been in.

Pay Attention and implement the 6 P Rule - Proper Planning Prevents Piss Poor Performance. 🤔

EVERYONE STAY SAFE OUT THERE‼️ 🙏

[garbinge]

Wanderlust (1)

Angel Reyes Post Canon Fic (Mentions of OC Isabeth ‘Izzy’ Flores) From these August Prompts: Wanderlust Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Mayans S5 Full Season/Finale Spoilers!!!!!!!!, mentions of death, blood, loss, angst, bad thoughts, stress, PTSD, just really sad but it does have some hope!

A/N: I… this is a lot and was honestly just flowed out onto the paper and just I have thoughts for more in this post-canon world but for now, this will be a little ode to Angel post series. Mayans Taglist: @drabbles-mc @justreblogginfics @narcolini @danzer8705 @keyweegirlie

It was hard to accept his dreams coming true when it took everything falling apart to get there. It was truthfully even hard to call this a dream when it was just a necessity for a normal and safe life. The peace the beach town of La Paz, Mexico had to offer wasn’t as rewarding as the fight to get here made it seem it would be. For Angel, most of that had to do with the fact that time passed differently now. There was nothing to look forward to anymore now that he was here. There were no visits from grandparents, no visits from uncles, no waking up next to the woman he loved. The goals he once had before were now achieved and alongside of them looking different, he hadn’t had the time or honest want to create new ones. The one thing that kept him going was his son, Maverick. The thought of showing him a world of endless opportunities and making life better solely for him was what let him get out of bed in the morning everyday. On their journey down, he opted to show him where the little boy’s grandparents once lived, where Maverick's mother had grown up, but Angel knew staying in those places would only ultimately leave him in the same cycle. The cycle Angel was on the path to break, because, well, it was his only option now. 

Waking up might have been the hardest part of his day. It was ironic because falling asleep was the best. A moment of uninterrupted time where his thoughts weren’t consumed in his brain. He was shocked he didn’t have nightmares about everything, but his mind saved those for the daytime. When he was awake, he could vividly remember everything, every moment, every sound, every look, every feeling. It was why waking up was the hardest, because everything hit him like a pile of bricks the moment his eyes opened. He saw Felipe everyday. He heard EZ everyday. He searched for Luisa everyday. 

Not literally, ofcourse. The image of his father being rolled out on a coroner’s gurney was embedded into his brain. The sound of EZ’s last breaths, his last wishes of telling Maverick about him and their mother. And finally, his hand reached for Luisa in his bed every morning as some search for comfort but he was left with emptiness. Once Maverick was up that’s when he was able to push everything aside and do simple everyday things for him. He was currently living off the money Luisa had left in the crib before settling into a job. Settling into employment meant finding someone or somewhere to leave Maverick and he just wasn’t ready for that step. Luckily in Mexico, he could make that money stretch. Their place was cheap, Maverick was still sleeping in a crib so the one bedroom house they stayed in was more than doable. Food was no more than $25 a week between the two of them and that was pending if Angel even had the drive to eat a full meal. Maverick was always taken care of, though. He had tons of his favorite food stored in the fridge and freezer and lots of toys. Angel had taken his Pops truck down, loading it up with the broken down crib, stroller, and height chair, a few bags of their clothes, and that was just about it. 

It was early morning, Angel had been awake for a few minutes staring at the ceiling thinking about his brother. The ultimate choice he had to make in stabbing him. Logically he knew there was no out of that situation, but that didn’t stop the ‘what ifs’ from running through his head everyday. The biggest what if that weighed on Angel’s mind was what if he never joined the club. That was what brought them there. Sure, Felipe’s past life had brought violence to them, specifically their mother, but Angel continued it. Maybe if he never joined the club EZ would have gotten out of prison and done something with his life. Again, this was Angel told himself, but he struggled with that just like everything else. If he never joined the club, he never would have met Luisa or had Maverick, EZ probably would have stayed in jail for the full stint with no chance of getting out early. It made Angel think about who EZ was prior to losing their mother, what would have happened if everything was different. If he was a different person, his father was a different person, it ultimately brought him to one thought. Why him? Why was he the only one who got out. That’s usually when the cries of Maverick snapped him out of it as if the universe was giving him the answer. 

As Maverick’s voice cooed right on schedule, Angel was quick to get out of bed and grab him from the crib. Angel chatted with the boy, asking him how he slept, what he was hungry for, what he was in the mood to wear. All of those things took up a good couple hours of the morning between bath time and feeding, for the both of them. 

Now was the time to take on the beach town of La Paz, he and Maverick had been exploring the last few weeks, taking some time on the few different beaches, enjoying the street art and boardwalks, taking in the marinas, finding some local food spots to indulge in, and today was time to hit downtown. 

La Paz was beautiful, the streets were filled with statues, artworks, and markets as you walked along the coast to get downtown where there was just more of everything. Angel had Maverick in his arms as they walked past a bookstore which made him stop and stare into the window. 

“You know your Tío EZ loved to read.” Angel looked over at the boy in his arms. “Your grandpa, my dad, had bookshelves in his shop and would constantly be giving new ones to your Tío, I always told ‘em they smelt like meat and maybe there was somewhere better to keep 'em but they enjoyed it.” Angel nodded his head at the memory. 

“Maybe we can find you some different books, huh?” Angel looked into the bookstore and noticed it was more of a newsstand with biographies, novels, and stories versus children’s books so he began his search for a library. 

Biblioteca Pública para los Niños de La Paz, the words on the secluded building could be seen from a hundred feet away. The building was painted and bright and seemed to be exactly what he was looking for. Maverick was enamored by it, his eyes were glued to the building and his arms extended out to point to it. 

Angel let out a laugh, “Alright, little man. Let's go check it out.” 

As they entered the building it was a lot fancier than he imagined a library to be, there were different sections despite it being majorly a children's library. They had movies, DVDs, novels but when Angel looked to the left he was met with a huge children’s section. There was a big circular room that he assumed was for events, walls and walls of books, almost never ending and somewhere in the middle of that were couches and play sets. In the midst of all of this there was a big circulation desk that was covered in posters and kids toys and flyers where there was an empty desk chair. Angel assumed someone must’ve been on their break or roaming around the library so he walked past it and let Maverick roam around the play sets. 

“Mav, come, look at these.” He called the little boy over to the half shelf of books. Angel sat squatted on the ground at Maverick’s eye level as he pulled books out, there were two that he held onto which Angel assumed they’d be checking out while the others were left on the floor in his path along the shelf. Angel was quick to grab the discarded books and put them back in their proper place as he moved behind his son, making sure that nothing was left out of place. 

“Maybe we can find a book that daddy used to read all the time.” Angel started to look at the next shelf over for the book he remembered Marisol reading to him while Maverick plopped down right next to him as if he was waiting for the book. 

“Buenas tardes, como los puedo ayudar? ” A woman’s voice caused Angel to startle and turn around immediately. He was such a tall individual that looking up to someone wasn’t usual for him. 

“Lo siento,” he let out a chuckle and shook his head as he tried to think straight, “uh, estoy buscando un libro.” He explained in spanish what he was doing. 

“Perdoname,” the woman laughed back, “no quise asustarte.” Her eyes were soft as she apologized. “Sabes el nombre del libro?” 

Angel thought for a minute. “Uh, si, se–se llama,” Angel closed his eyes as he tried to remember the name, “olvidé el nombre, pero se trata del sol y…” He lost it, it’s like any bit of spanish left his brain when he tried to think of the word he was looking for. “Ah, que es,” he thought to himself now feeling fully embarrassed by his lack of fluency. “Come se dice, un reptilio?” He replaced the word he wanted with a similar synonym. 

“A lizard?” The woman spoke her English as clear as day even with her accent. 

Angel let out a sigh of relief. “Yea, the book is about a sun and lizard.” 

“La Lagartija y el Sol.” She nodded, knowing exactly what book he was referring to. 

“Yes!” His eyes lit up. “Sor– Perdoname, si, La Lagartija y el Sol.” He confirmed still stumbling over his words. 

“It’s okay, I speak English.” The girl met Angel at eye level as she squatted down and reached across his face to search for the book. 

“I’m trying to fit in, act like a local.” He let out a nervous chuckle that made her smile. 

“We stick out like sore thumbs.” Her thick accent was littered with humor as she related to him. 

“You’re not local?” Angel asked her out of curiosity. 

“No, I’m from Mexico but not La Paz. I learned English in the States a few years ago.” She wasn’t willing to give up more specifics but Angel wasn’t one to pry either.

“Any advice on how not to stick out and seem like a local?” He laughed as he adjusted himself to stand up. 

“No one cares here, everyone minds their business, it’s why I enjoy living here.” She stopped dragging her finger along the books as she found the one she was looking for and pulled it out by its spine. “La Lagartija y el Sol.” 

“Thank you, I think he’s gonna like this one.” Angel pointed to his son who was sitting on the couch mindlessly going through the few books that he had grabbed himself. 

“It is about perseverance and bravery, two traits you’ll need if you want to try and fit in as a local.” She teased. “The book is bilingual, also. Might help both of you.” 

“Good to know, ironically, my mom used to read me the bilingual version and well, you’ve seen how well that worked out.” He was now standing with the book in his hand. 

“Takes perseverance.” She smirked. “Let me know if you need any more help.” And with that, she was moving back behind the children’s circulation desk. 

Angel stayed with Maverick in between the two shorter shelves where the playsets were, letting the boy enjoy the toys and time out of the house. They picked out a couple DVDs too in addition to the 3 books in his hands, just trying to think of ways to pass the time back at home. About an hour and a half had passed and Angel decided it was time to leave to grab some lunch and maybe head to the marina so he began to approach the childrens desk with Maverick in one arm and the things he planned to check out in the other. 

The same woman came out from the back office and smiled as she situated back in her seat at the computer that was likely from the early 2000s. 

“Do you have a card with us already?” She looked up at him before taking the movies and books off the part of the desk that was raised to be more of an appropriate height for those standing on the opposite side of it. 

“No, I’d have to sign up for one if that’s not a big deal?” His tone had a little apprehension in it. 

“Nope, just need to get some info from you.” She began clicking things on the computer and then asking him questions. “Need a name, address, and some form of ID.” 

Angel froze for a minute, he wasn’t exactly sure what he felt comfortable giving up information wise. He was well aware that this was some random woman at the library and not the cartel or even a police officer but it just felt nerve wracking. 

“Um, do I need to give all that information?” He stood awkwardly as he re-situated Maverick on his side. 

The woman looked up at him and immediately understood. “I can make it work with just a name.” She agreed. “I just need you to promise you’re going to return those items in 3 weeks because if not it’s my paycheck the replacements come out of.” Her face was soft when she spoke. 

“Promise. You can put the card under Angel Reyes.” He leaned over to see what she put into the system. 

After a few minutes she took out a card and scanned it before placing it on the table in front of him. “If you have any trouble just ask for me and I’ll take care of it. I put the address in as my own.” 

Angel was speechless for a minute before he spoke up. “Thanks, I didn’t mean to have to have you–” she cut him off before he finished speaking. 

“It’s okay, I get it.” Her eyes moved to Maverick, who was beginning to fall asleep in Angel’s arms, and then back to Angel’s eyes before grabbing his things to check him out. After scanning all the items and placing them in a bag she moved to go grab something on the other side of the desk. “Also,” she twirled in the chair. “I pulled this for you. I think you and your son would enjoy it.” 

La Frontera: El Viaje con Papá - A Journey with Papa. 

Angel stared at the book for a minute with a smile on his face. 

“You know, I always wanted to travel. I had dreams about it. Going all these different places. I went to some but like I wanted to see things my family saw, see things they didn’t, just have the world at my disposal, right?” He was staring down at the book, holding it in his hand, wiping his tumb across the cover. “But now I just don’t feel that way anymore.” He put the book down on the table and snapped himself out of his thoughts. “Sorry,” his head shook. “I didn’t mean to unload, I don’t get to talk to many people that aren’t above the age of 2.” 

The woman smiled, “You know, sometimes that feeling of wanderlust is your gut telling you that you are not in the right place.” Her shoulders shrugged like what she said didn’t hold a heavy weight to Angel’s ears. There was a moment where he just took in those words before she spoke up again. “Maybe you’re just finally in the right place.” 

She had gone back to doing something, not paying Angel any attention as he slowly put the book in the bag. Maybe it was true, he was in the right place, he had finally escaped all the violence, the stress, the uneasiness, and he could feel free. That still didn’t come without punishment. The thought of feeling free reminded him that his brother, father, and mother died being stuck. The images of his mother on the floor of the shop followed by his father on the gurney and his brother on the floor of the Mayan clubhouse rotted his brain. Repetitive words of the things they said throughout their lifetime haunting Angel. How could he be free when he felt so chained to their memory. 

“Are you okay?” The woman’s voice snapped Angel out of his thoughts. 

“Si, Yes, Gracias, seriously for all your help.” Angel started stepping away now. 

“You are welcome, Angel.” She smiled and went back to her work before looking up when Angel stuttered after wishing her a good day but realizing he had no idea what her name was. 

“Isabeth–Isa.” 

Angel stood there frozen again and repeated her name. “Isa?” The woman’s head nodded and she looked at him confused.

“Is there something wrong with that?” She let out a nervous laugh. 

 “I’m sorry, that was sort of my mom’s name.” He closed his eyes with a smile. 

“Sort of?” She twisted her head and met him with the same smile. 

“Yea, sort of–it’s complicated.” He chuckled back. 

“Well to make it more complicated, you can call me Izzy. That’s what my friends in the states used to call me, I kind of miss it.” 

“How’d you know I was from the states?” He asked curiously, a look that didn’t last long as she gave him a knowing look and tried to hold in her laugh. “Fair enough, Izzy it is.” He nodded and with that he left the library with a feeling of content.

It was nice to finally have a conversation with someone that held some sort of mature value, despite the fact that it brought Angel some of his darkest thoughts, but he would have had those regardless, at least this time he was offered some solace. Maybe he was finally in the right place, maybe this is where Maverick needed to be, where he needed to be. Perhaps it was everyone he lost that guided him to this spot simply because it was the right place. Maybe wanderlust didn’t need to be about huge travel but just roaming around your own space, your mind even, finding one place of peace and calmness where all the bad things weren’t allowed to go. That was what Angel’s next adventure would hold, wanderlust of his mind, a place where all his demons and nightmares weren’t allowed, and just peace and tranquility could be found.

[josecariohca]

Hi Dani! How are you? How have you been sleeping? I hope your sleep schedule is good and you feel rested! What fandoms are you in? Or shows/animes/movies do you like? I also saw you graduated with double majors! 🎉 That's amazing!! I bet that was difficult because double the course load. What's 1 interesting history fact you learned while in college? -🪽

Oh my goodness hi hello!! I have been sleeping...okay! This is so sweet I hardly know what to do with myself! Uhh right now I am in the HWS, Naruto, and Bridgerton fandoms, but I will always hype up and recommend Black Sails to anyone who has never seen it. Maybe one day I'll write for it, but when it comes to anything pirate I have a bad habit of word vomiting about history and completely forgetting about plot. I just...really love pirates lmao

I did graduate with double majors! Spanish absolutely kicked my ass! But it was worth it, and I'm actually going to tour grad schools with my best friend next month, which I'm very, very excited for!! As for an interesting fact...oh my god there are so many...

I'm gonna keep it pirate related, because I'm. Predictable. But! Did you know that in May of 1668, English pirate Robert Searles captured a Spanish ship and managed to sneak her to St. Augustine waters off Florida's coast. The Spanish, who occupied St. Augustine at the time, thought the ship was one of their own sailing from Mexico, and when the sun set, Searles led his pirate crew ashore and absolutely ravaged the town, ransacking anything they could see and actually killing or kidnapping any St. Augustinian they considered to be not of "pure blood." The raid was so brutal that it caused Queen Mariana of (Austria) Spain to finally authorize the building of the now famous and protected Castillo de San Marcos out of coquina.

Poor St. Augustine has a history of being ransacked by pirates, especially with this coming after a raid from Sir Francis Drake (arguably the most powerful pirate in history, but it depends who you ask) in 1586. Known as El Draque (the Dragon) by the Spanish, Drake not only pillaged St. Augustine, but set her on fire, as well, burning down everything, enough so that archeologists would later find the charred remains of the original city more than 4 centuries later.

As for the Castillo de San Marcos, the fort is still up and can be visited and toured, which I recommend to anyone who manages to make their way to St. Augustine!

I apologize if that's not the kind of fun fact you were looking for. Not exactly the happiest, but it's what I had ready off the top of my head and I'm still so flustered by this ask that I couldn't think of anything else 😭 You are too cute for this and I want you to know it made my whole day.

Mwah!! Thank you!