#from his time in mexico i lost it over the move and it’s kind of weighing in the back of my skull because i had that for a second

[nazumichi]

they weren’t lying, that dis sure can connect.

[yeyinde]

lavender skies | Kyle "Gaz" Garrick x GN!Reader

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him.  (And that, maybe, you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

tags: friends to lovers (but the type of friends who are basically already dating and everyone knows except them - until suddenly they do), mutual pining. Slight Kent bashing, oops. Golden Girls as a coping mechanism. warnings: none. very tame, considering who I am as a person. Heavy make-out sess, though. word count: 6,6k notes: This has been sitting in my requests forever (I lost the original, but the gist was: Gaz + pining + idiots in love). You can blame a lot of this on summer rain and 80s city pop. Been going to the pier and listening to it while I wrote this. Not my best, sure, but it was fun.

The Tinder date he warned you not to go on (and seriously, mate, who uses Tinder anymore?) ends like this:

Your date, the biggest gentleman in Kent, as proclaimed in his bio (a red flag in hindsight—there's no such thing as a gentleman from Kent), sneaks his number to the waitress, and then leaves you behind in downtown Manchester to go bar hopping with a group he just met. 

It's not a great loss. All things considered, it's not even the worst date you've ever been on. It was just a spur-of-the-moment whim—equal parts anxiety and megrim: the sudden fear of being single forever (and no, despite what Kyle might say, it has nothing to do with the wedding invitation you'd gotten on Facebook, or the three others that came before it)—and therefore, there isn't much to be upset about. Not really. 

But the world doesn't work on half-hearted lies and shaky truths, and on a dank little corner in Manchester, abandoned by your ride home, your abysmal date who barely looked at you, you can't deny that it hurts. That it's a little bit of a hit to your self-esteem in a way that makes you angrier than you were before, because, honestly—he wasn't even a catch to begin with. 

Stupid. 

You should have listened to Kyle, to his immaculate wisdom and emotional maturity far beyond his years, but you hadn't because—

Well. Sometimes the world should work on little lies. If only to the ones you tell yourself. Ones like:

It's completely fine—really it is—if your friend of nearly eight years is moving on with his life. And it's totally, absolutely okay if your best friend meets some flighty barista in Amsterdam and won't stop talking about her for the meagre three weeks he's been back from his impromptu trip to the Netherlands, then to Mexico. It's fine. It's all fine. 

Because maybe you are, too. 

And maybe that's the reason you went out with David from Kent. 

From Kent? He texted, only hours before your date. (Hours because he'd been busy with this thing for his job—his boss is corrupt and the world is, too, but at least Amsterdam Barista is doing fine). You can do so much better than that, birdy.

You wanted to say, what? Like someone from Amsterdam instead? but you're doing this new thing where you try not to sound as mad as you think you are. Zen, maybe. Internal peace and happiness. So, instead, you say:

He's nice. I like him. 

Words that, of course, have come back to bite you. 

He isn't nice. He wouldn't stop staring at the waitress, and talking over you, or just generally ignoring your existence. He left you downtown, stranded without a way home. You don't like him. You really don't even think you were that interested in him. 

But it makes sense.

Kyle is moving on. Your friends are getting married. 

And where does that leave you? 

Well—

It leaves you stuck downtown with shoes that were intended to be used for aesthetics, the kind that means standing entirely still and immobile, and not walking the fifteen kilometres to your flat because you'd spent all your money on this super flattering outfit and these unfunctional shoes, and can't afford a cab or an Uber. 

Sometimes, you pretend you're a functional adult—one who knows how to navigate everything with ease, and you live in the present, the real world, where time is fluid and unchangeable, and things make sense (maths and geometry and physics) unless they don't (black holes and the vastitude of space and fate)—but moments like these remind you that you don't. That you live, instead, somewhere in the parentheses of both. 

The indigo sky, murky black and void of any stars, seems to grumble along with you as you turn toward the street, readying yourself for the long walk home. Except the groan sounds less commiserating and more ominous. A noise that seems to reverberate through the crowded street, and right into your bones.

Some have the wherewithal to find shelter. A smart move because almost a moment later, the heavens split, and a summer deluge drenches the street. It's unrelenting in its downpour, soaking everything in its path in a shrill roar. 

Caught in the middle of St Peter's Square, there are not many places to duck under for sanctuary, but you find an alcove beside a store, and dart toward it. The non-functional boots are pretty to look at, but with each step, you feel the hard synthetic rubber grind against your heel. Blisters form, break. The burn makes you inhale sharply against the pain, hobbling now on tender feet. 

The wall is slick with condensation, but you lean against it to keep your feet from taking the brunt of your weight. 

It reminds you, quite suddenly, of that night in Cardiff with Kyle. When you'd drank three-dollar margaritas at some downtrodden bar with your friends and ate rather limp-looking fish tacos (a mistake, of course, and Kyle still can't look at corn tortillas the same way), and laughed until your belly hurt at something he'd said—the words lost to alcohol and faded with time—and then leaned over, promptly throwing up in a bush. 

You still can't drink tequila without giggling (and gagging) at nothing, a phantom memory, and the thought presses against a tender spot in your chest in all the wrong ways. 

Time is fluid. An unavoidable truism that you can't escape. 

There are people you've known since you were a child whose faces you can barely remember. Ones you promised the world to, to always be together, who you hardly think of anymore. 

Moving on. Moving forward. 

You think, then, of Kyle. Of the distance that lingers between you both, widening each day. It's nothing you've done, nor he; it's just—

Life. Concurrent. Everpresent. 

It hurts to lose a friend, you'd always think. A small moment of grief, of loss. But not like this. Never like this. 

Stuck in a downpour in the middle of Manchester, you realise you miss him. Have been missing him. 

Huddling under an awning, you fish your phone from your soaked pocket, and pull up the only person you want to be around right now, in this moment of vulnerability. Loneliness. 

You send him a quick text, date was a bust. Stuck downtown. Are you busy?

Kyle's reply comes three breaths later. For you? Never. Send me your location. 

You send him your pin. 

Another message pops up: stay put. I'm on my way. 

You met Kyle Garrick at university. 

It's one of those things in life that just sometimes happens. A happy accident. An eventuality that makes the world feel a little less daunting. A lock and key sliding into place. Sunsets in pretty ochre. 

Someone you knew and someone he knew (two people who are now best man and groom in the upcoming wedding) decided to invite all of their friends out for a night, and it was then, slightly tipsy on cheap ale when you realised the boy in the back—a head taller than everyone else and more befitting inside the glossy pages of a magazine—was different, somehow, from anyone else you'd ever met. 

It started when some stupid kids decided to pick on another. A smaller boy with a blue cap. 

Kyle was the only one who noticed. The only one who seemed to care. 

It was his anger that drew you to him in the first place. Moth to a flame. It's quick—the sizzling flame of a lit match: suddenly burning the wick and nearly uncontrollable. But it's short. A flickering star, burning bright, burning hot, and then being tempered and swallowed down until it's smouldering. Still hot, still dangerous, but—

Managed. 

It was a snap. He was laughing, jovial. Telling jokes, and having fun, but still maintaining that enviable enigmatic persona: reserved but kind. Funny, but mature. And then it crumpled in an instant, folded away into anger. Bright and blistering. He walked to them, eyes blazing, and didn't wait for any excuses when the kids noticed him, just quickly decimated their foundations, and crushed their feeble lies between his teeth. 

"Bullyin'? That's a pretty foul thing to do, innit, mate?" 

And that was that. 

He handed the kid back his hat—the one the others knocked off into the gutter—and told him, clipped, that he was better than them. 

Just keep your chin up, yeah? Fuckin' losers, that lot. Don't go messing about with them anymore. Fucking pricks. That's a nice hat, too. Where'd you get it? Really? Oh, that's mint—

It was that moment when, unprompted and unnoticed, he easily slipped away from the group to help some kid he didn't even know that you realised you were very keen to get to know him. 

"Fancy a kebab, hero?" You asked, smirking up at him. 

A grin broke across his face. Sharp, feral. "I could always go to a lamb kebab."

The rest, really, just came quite naturally. Your best friend. The person you go to for anything—even terrible dates that leave you stranded in the rain. 

You just wish you knew when it all began to change, to fall apart. 

Kyle meets you near St Peter's Square. 

You spot him first from your hiding spot beneath the awning, catching sight of his form moving through the (now) empty streets, hands shoved in the pockets of his denim trousers, the bottoms tucked, sensibly, into his fawn-coloured boots. 

Even with the hood of his windbreaker pulled low over his brow, you can pick him out of a crowd with an ease that is as warming as it is jarring. 

You wave him over when he stops on the mouth of Mount Street, looking in toward the Starbucks on the corner. 

He finds you just as easily. And oh, his expression makes your toes curl in your misshapen boots. 

Anger pinches the corner of his mouth, and hangs off the furrow of his brow, the divot between his eyes. 

"Unbelievable," he huffs when he reaches you in the middle of the street, and sucks his teeth when you open your mouth to protest. 

"It is what it is," you offer, playing the peacekeeper. You fall into step with him, trying not to wince. "I'm over it." 

"Yeah?" The shadows across his brow deepen. "Are you sure? 'Cause… I'll fuck him up for you." 

Setting your friend on a man from Kent feels entirely too vindictive, despite how much of a rush you get at the thought of seeing the man cowed a little bit. You shake your head, playing the part of a reasonable adult. 

"It's okay. I'm just—I'm just, over this, yeah? Can we—"

Kyle stops you with his hand against your shoulder. "You alright?"

"My feet hurt," your smile is strained. "Terrible shoes." 

"Take 'em off."

"Are you crazy—?"

"I brought slides for you. Figured you'd wear something stupid." 

"Okay, fair. But—ouch? We can't all be crazy good-looking Armani models. Some of us have to work for it." 

Kyle snorts. "Just take your shoes off, yeah? Throw 'em in my bag."

You can't deny it feels blissful when you lean against the slick wall outside of a shop, toeing off your tight boots. Aching feet freed from their prison. The sigh you let out makes him glance up at you from the pavement, bent over the rucksack he brought. 

There's disapproval in his gaze—maybe at your choice. Choices. The date he warned you about. The boots. The socks he spots are stained with blood on the knob of your foot. 

He tuts. A soft admonishment that cuts through the silence of the empty square. But it's all he says. He swallows the rest and drops the shoes he grabbed on the pavement in front of you, slowly pushing them forward with the tip of his toe.

You try not to grin when you see them.

Crocs. The ugliest ones you could find in Schuh. You'd bullied him into getting a matching pair with you. Neon yellow adorned with little clips. 

You slip them on as Kyle reaches down to grab your boots. He pauses with them in his hand, eying them with something that taints the air with his disdain. 

"When did you buy these?"

"On Friday." When he was sleeping off his impromptu trip to Chicago. He brought you home deep-dish pizza, frozen, and promised that it tasted much better fresh. "For the date."

"Why?" Is all he asks. 

You shrug. "They're cute…?"

His eyes stray to your shoulders. The wet fabric of your shirt. His chin lowers slightly, but his eyes stay fixed on your flesh, on the goosebumps that bubble to the surface, spreading over your exposed skin. Eyes flicker, catching a droplet of water you can feel running down from behind your ear, falling over the slope of your neck. It breaks against your collarbone. He watches it all. 

There's tension in the air. Static. The pressure builds and reeks of ozone when it presses into you, knuckles digging into the hollow of your throat. It renders you unable to speak—locked in a paradigm where the world beyond the honeycomb of his eyes ceases to matter, to exist almost. Thick honey ensnares you. Molasses. It clots against reason, logic, and makes you feel weightless. Floating, unmoored, in this unfamiliar abyss that closes in around you. 

Except—

It isn’t. 

There’s something aberrant about it, anomalous, that you can’t ignore; but beneath it sits a preternatural sense of familiarity that bends the paradox into knowns. Into tangibles. Concretes. 

This is the same tension that has been simmering—festering, almost—since before he joined the miliary. In Cardiff when he leaned against you in the taxi, boney shoulder digging into your arm, and said, ‘dunno what I'd do without you, y’know? 

It was the hazy smear of neon from the shops perched on the street. An ethereal gold hue streamed in from the window, cutting across the tenebrous in an asymmetrical chiaroscuro. The light was soaked up by him. Warm honey, the perfect compliment to his eyes, to the soft pink of his lips. 

How could you possibly describe the feeling that spumes in the pit of your stomach outside of undiluted comfort? 

Home.

It feels like like in shades; muted. A soft undercurrent that lingers inside something else, something deeper—

Moments in the foyer when he was heading back home for the evening. When he’d linger in the doorway, shoulder balanced against the frame, arms folded over his chest, and warned you not to watch Taskmaster without him. 

He’d know, he said. 

When you asked how, he just said:

“Because I know you.”

It feels like that. Like that and something more. Everything, all of it, coalesces into this. Into this moment where you can’t stop staring into the flecks of mahogany and charred birchwood in his eyes, and he can’t seem to decide where to keep his, vacillating between the slope of your neck and matching your stare. A lurch, a flash of something in your chest when your gazes meet. The deep sfumato of a bare forest in the middle of winter—rich browns, raw topaz, honey and amber in a sea of white. A sleepy hinterland. Solemnent and peaceful. Dreamy. Hypnogogic. 

The world always seems to shudder into a deep slumber whenever he’s around. 

He dips closer, swaying into you. Gravity, maybe. Tidally locked satellites on the same rung. Something bubbles in your chest. Unwinds from its dormant perch between the gaps in your ribs, and climbs up your esophagus. Ready, you think, to be free—

In the distance, tyres squeal against the pavement. 

—and all at once, the moment burst, breaks. Shatters into a million pieces, cosmic dust, and you watch them fall around you, blinking rapidly, as though you’ve just woken. 

It feels like slowly coming down to earth when you quietly gather your things, words now stuck in your throat. In their prison. 

Kyle tears his gaze away from your bare skin, clearing his throat. 

"Hardly." He murmurs after a moment and slips his jacket off his shoulders before wrapping it around yours. It smells of rainwater, wet rubber. Beneath the polymer, you can smell Kyle—vetiver, cypress, jasmine; sweet and heady—and you bury your nose in the hood when he turns back to the empty street. “Well, uh—”

You can’t speak. Not yet. 

He seems to understand. 

"Yeah," he nods, and reaches out, tugging on the end of the drawstring. "Let's get out of here." 

The rain lightens into a muted drizzle, soft droplets that fall, almost rhythmless, on the wet pavement. The town sleeps, the streets bare. Empty. The only sounds come from your slick footfalls, a horn in the distance. 

It’s an easy silence that lapses between you—not at all unlike the lulls before, when things were easy and featherlight and endless; when you could talk to him about everything, anything, and all of the worries in your life were saved for something else. Never him. Never, ever him. 

But it tugs at something in your chest. The same pressure blooms at the edges, lingering in the periphery. You think of the spell you fell under—quiet yearning—and shake your head, desperate now to break it. 

It’s just as easy to slip into familiarity. To tease, and taunt. And so, you do. 

"I'm surprised you haven't said I told you so by now. That's so impressive self-restraint."

His gaze slides over to you. "Well, you know, it's implied."

"Oh, is it, now?"

"Yeah, like when you messaged me and told me about it and I said—"

"Who even uses Tinder?"

"—that he's knobhead, and you're gonna get hurt."

You scoff. "He's from Kent, so."

"Even worse," he makes a face, derision contrasted by the jaundiced lamp spilling over the pavement. "A Tinder date with a guy from Kent? What's next? Moving to Bristol?"

"It's a nice area." 

He rolls his eyes. "Sure. As nice as Essex, maybe." 

"The two are not even comparable—"

"'Dunno why you're rushing into anything, anyway,” he angles his chin toward you. “If this is about Carver's wedding, I said I'd go with you, didn't I?"

"Yeah, but…"

"But what?"

"That's sort of—like, you just have your own thing going on. I don't want to get in the way."

"I've always had my own thing going on. So have you. But that's never stopped us before, has it? What's changed."

"What about—" you swallow down something thick, bitter that wells in the back of your throat. "You know. Amsterdam. The Barista, or whatever."

His brow knots together. "And what about David from Kent?"

You sweep your hands out, motioning morosely toward your Crocs, your damp outfit. "This is what happened with David from Kent. Not exactly the fairytale meet cute you have with Amsterdam—" he makes a noise, like he means to interrupt. You cut him off. Bury it. "And besides, you should take her. I'll just—" 

"I want to go with you."

"Why?"

Kyle falls to a stop near the Kebab shop you usually go to whenever he comes back from his missions, when he's craving good, hearty food that will rot his insides and clog his arteries. A small comfort from before, when everything he has now was just a dream, and you were struggling students in university who could barely afford a meal each and would split a lamb dinner over ale and terrible movies from the noughties back at your flat. 

The suddenness of it all makes you blink beside him, slowly angling your chin up at him. A questioning noise wells in the back of your throat, but when you finally turn your gaze to him, it does out. A snuffed flame. 

He brings his hand up, finger scratching at the soft patch of skin on the bridge of his nose where it starts to arch up. The look on his face, hidden, slightly, by the night blanketing overhead, but just illuminated enough by smears of neon and flushed street lamps for you to see it clove into something slightly flustered, hesitant. Sheepish, almost, like he hadn't meant to say what he did, and now doesn't know how to proceed forward. Cards tucked tight to his chest. Does he play his hand or fold? 

You blink. Then blink again. Struggling, almost, to take in the suddenness of his flustered state. 

Because the thing is:

Kyle doesn't get embarrassed or sheepish. 

A running gag in your mutual friend group is that Kyle is twenty-eight going on sixty-five. An old man crammed inside the body of a young adult. He runs hot—passionate about his beliefs, quick to temper when he thinks an injustice is being doled out; a disciple of loose stoicism, but of a new age variety that is half parts stereotypical stoner chillness and ripe maturity—but he rarely is ever caught unawares enough to become embarrassed by something. He just has a perfect gauge of himself and those around him, able to quickly make friends with anybody he meets, and self-aware enough to know when he's in the wrong, when he needs to dial it back. 

Being his friend for so long, you know the nuance of these expressions. His mien is ingrained in your head: known and catalogued. Nothing about Kyle is a mystery to you except the things you're barred from knowing (his second life away from home, you often joke: wholly confidential, entirety draped in secrecy). 

But the look on his face is entirely alien to you. An expression you hadn't thought him capable of making. 

It's jarring. It bludgeons into you with a ferocity that takes your breath away. 

You know the man standing beside you, but this, everything else, is so unearthly. So foreign. 

"Kyle," you hedge, taking a small step closer to him. You're not sure why. Maybe to reacquaint yourself with the man standing before you. Maybe to find something of familiarity within him to comfort the sudden crescendo of your pounding heart because even just the heady scent of his cologne—vetiver, amber—quells the sudden bloom of anxiety in the pit of your stomach. "Are you—?"

"No," he mumbles, then huffs out a soft laugh. It sounds mean, in a self-deprecating way, and your heart lurches for him. "Yeah, no. I'm alright. I just—shit, you know? 'Course I'd wanna go with you. Should be kinda obvious, no?"

Sure, you want to say. Sure, no, totally. Very obvious. And maybe had he not stopped, not made this peculiar expression on his face—like he isn't sure what to do when he always knows what he wants, what he's meant to do—you might have said them. Might let them tumble from your lips, equally self-deprecating and a touch forlorn despite never really knowing why, but that would be a lie, now. 

Because you do. 

The look on his face is upsetting—not because Kyle never makes that expression, or because he's never uncertain about anything, ever, but because you don't know it. It's not something you've ever seen before. And it hurts. 

It's stupid. This whole thing. It shouldn't make you feel some sense of loss when he does something you don't expect. He always does. It's his brand, now—jettisoning across the world to catch bad guys and slap the trite American sense of justice and liberty for all across the faces of anyone who tries to oppose it—and you're very much acclimated to this side of him, the one he hides away from you, giving nothing at all about where he's going, what he's doing, what he's done, until he's back in England, safe and sound, and texting you at six in the morning for an English spread because he missed home. And maybe, maybe he missed you, too. 

Those quiet moments are tucked into a cosm where it's only you and him, and greasy food, and reruns of Golden Girls together with your feet in his lap as you sit on the chaise and pick favourites (his is, of course, Rose) until the sun goes down, and he heads home because he has a debriefing in the morning in Hereford, and you have work. It's bereft of unease, of tension. Time slips through your fingers fluidly, and you hardly notice it's been hours since he first arrived. Comfortable, wholly, in his presence and in your skin. 

Soulmates, everyone used to joke. You just get each other. Near finish each other's sentences. 

Except for lately, where there has been this undeniable tension simmering between the two of you—a sense of fragility that you can't comprehend.

Growing apart, you thought. And then: guess it's time to do the same. 

It made sense to make the first move. To download Tinder—much to his chagrin—and start looking for your—

Your Barista from Amsterdam. 

And oh. 

Oh. 

Maybe it's the way the street light frames the angles and plains of his face, or the shadows that run deep lines of tenebrous across the valleys in his eyes, the sharp slope of his lips, the soft pout. The inscrutable expression that rents a jagged divot between his brow, and an unsure twist of his mouth. Maybe it's everything. Nothing. 

But the only thing you know right now is that you know him. Have known him. Deeply. Intimately. In a way that goes beyond the boundaries of bodies, of flesh and blood. Bones and marrow. You know his soul. His essence. The foundations of who he is cobbled together in a lonely kebab shop over cheap ale, commiserating on an endless stream of papers and assignments; the eventuality of ever after when you hand in the final one. Over beans and toast in the afternoon, a whole day spent lounging in your flat watching reruns of Golden Girls, and petty arguments over Taskmaster that always seem to go a little bit too far, and never far enough. Fights that end two days later when he shows up with Greggs and a complete box set of that show you said you wanted to watch but never had the time for. Bargain shopping in Tottenham on an early Saturday morning because there's this chair, you see, one that you saw on their Instagram page and you simply must have it. 

Soft moments in between, brackets where life doesn't seem to wrap its cold hands around your throat. Time spent in each other's company just for the sake of it. 

Climbing onto your roof—a thatched mess of moss and straw and broken asphalt shingles that will one day give under your weight—and watching the stars, always searching for one that rockets across the sky while he murmurs beside you, quiet in this stillness that falls like snow in the dead of night around you. A hushed whisper as he relays the places he's been—all stars, he rasps, hand brushing wide strokes across the raspberry sky, dusted with light pollution: I'll take you there one day to see. Best fucking beer I'd ever had, too, just don't tell my cousin because he thinks the shitty lager he makes for his bar is good—and you try to picture it amongst the grey clouds. A life on the opposite side of the world. Just the two of you. Always. 

And that's what it's always been, hasn't it? Just you. Just him. 

It's sometime past midnight on a street corner in Manchester. Your feet hurt from walking all night, and your clothes are damp from the rain that caught you off-guard. A summer downpour. It clings to your skin in a way that's both freeing and wholly uncomfortable, but you're not thinking about that. You're not thinking about anything at all, not now. Not really. There's a silence in your head as the world falls into pieces, breaking like the jaundiced light that cuts crevasses and canyons in the tenebrous that colours sharp valleys of his face. He turns, then, a gentle list of his head as he takes you in, breathes your silence and questions the wideness of your eyes, the soft parting of your lips. The movement makes the light spill over the arch of his nose, the slope of his brow. The dawning of a new day. A new world. The untouchable of the moon where no light shines now burning hot under the sun. 

Then suddenly, and all at once, there's a loudness in your head: a hundred whispers echoing in time to the same off-beat rhythm, full of memories and moments shared between you, threads woven throughout the years all buoying to the surface as you realise you're a little bit in love with him. 

(And maybe you've been a little bit in love with him the whole time.)

So, you say it. You whisper all the words that bubble up, impatiently waiting between your teeth, effervescent and burning white-hot as they throw themselves over bone and flesh to be free. 

Confessing goes like this: 

Molten agony in your guts as the secrets you barely understand yourself dissolve into the atmosphere, spoken aloud and born on cobblestone and petrichor. Wide-eyed shock, uncertainty, as a new quiet falls over your shoulders, louder than anything you'd ever heard. Guncotton in your nose. A million detonations in your ears. 

You've never much liked the silence. You break it, then, with your bare hands. 

"...and that's basically it." 

It isn't much. It isn't poetry. You're not even sure the words were real. A figment of your imagination, broken free because of baristas in Amsterdam and losers from Kent, abysmal dates and the unending fear of being wholly alone in a world you're not prepared for, all without the person who makes you feel a little bit better about the nothingness that permeates around you. 

And sure. Sure. You don't need him. If Kyle decided never to speak to you again, you'd cry and you'd hurt, but you wouldn't be less of a person because of his absence. He doesn't complete you in the same way you've read about in thick books with strong-willed protagonists and an abundance of petty misunderstandings, but he compliments you. Elevates the good and stifles the bad. You want to experience things with him—not because there's some grand force at play, red strings knotted around your fingers that lead you back to him—but because you like his company. His thoughts. His mind. His presence. His essence fills you with joy in the same strokes it makes you want to pull your hair out sometimes. Good and bad. You want it all. 

You want it. Want him. 

And he—

He's taking you home a little past midnight where you'll make yourself beans and toast and maybe try and sleep, or turn on the television to watch four women you're intricately connected to eat cheesecake and solve each other's problems. He could be at his own flat right now, playing that video game he said he wanted to try when he got back, or watching that movie he was supposed to with his flatmates, his friends. He could be talking to some barista in Amsterdam. 

But he isn't. 

He's here with you. Still. Still. 

"I just—," you say, or try to. 

But the rest is a muffled gasp against soft lips when he presses his against yours, stealing the words out of your mouth. 

You can feel your heart beating through your lips. Taste him on your tongue when he draws you closer, hands reaching, grasping. Pulling you into him, into his body. You fit against him, tucked safe between the parentheses of his arms. He tastes of cardamom and cornflower. Lavender notes between his molars. Hints of milk on his tongue. You drink him down and know, then, that this is what they mean they talk about love being a feast because you chase this taste for the rest of your life and never be satiated. 

He loops his arm around the small of your back, dragging you closer still. As if any atom between your bodies is an affront. There’s no hesitation in the action, in the way he burrows into your skin. No trepidation. 

And maybe it would be silly for there to be any. You know him—every iota, every inch; secrets whispered at midnight in a shallow breath and dreams uttered at noon. To be known, to know, is a powerful thing. You feel it ghost across your flesh, featherlight, and reach for it with your bare hands. Seeking, searching. You don’t stop until the tips of your fingers meet his warm skin, curling around him. Anchoring yourself to him. Stuck, now, in permanence. 

You find spots that were untouched before. Behind his ears, the dip of his brow, the curve of his nose, and the slope of his jaw. Cupping it in the palm of your hand, a plinth for him to rest his chin. 

Your canvassing makes him groan, makes him tilt down into you as he begins his own exploration, chasing you in a mad pursuit. Sliding over your valleys, your plains. Running over the rugged mountains and the steep cliffs. He scours your topography with eager, nimble fingers. It’s slow, languid. There’s no rush with this, a consensus you both seem to come to rather quickly when he pries open your mouth and tangles his tongue with yours. It’s sweet, soft. His hands mimic his chase, sliding along your body as if he means to commit the entirety of you to memory, searing it in his brain. 

It’s only when he comes to a crossroads at your navel, pushed flush against his body, does he stop. You moan in despair at it, wanting more and more, not ready to give up this taste that curls over your tongue—saccharine sweet, salty—and Kyle echoes the noise with a groan, a quiet plea for air that both of you desperately need but can’t quite make yourself take. 

“Fuck—” he groans again, breath stuttering out in sharp, deep gasps. “Can’t bloody tell you how long I wanted to do this for, fuck—”

His words seem to peel back the dreamy gossamer of a slowly burning sensuality. It ignites in a blaze, not at all unlike the swiftness of his anger. The sharp, sudden strike of a match. The crackle and hiss of flames renting the air. 

The blaze starts at the point where your upper lip touches his, and almost immediately, it consumes you. 

It's frenzied when he kisses you again—feral and wild: all teeth and tongue and nips against your bottom lip but the moment you sink into the fervour, Kyle changes it. Slows down. Chaste pecks to your sore lips amid a sensual onslaught. A languid roll of his tongue, soothing the burn his teeth left behind. 

The way he kisses you feels like a paradox. 

It's organised chaos. Refined madness. A cluttered mess of finesse and deliberate suckles; an artist's masterstroke. 

You can't keep up. His rhythm is fierce and uncatchable. 

Each step seems to stutter. An avartan you can’t keep pace with. Elongated taals, dips. A crescendo of harmony that is matchless, unreproducible. You struggle along with his swift current, his unerring tide that sweeps you away; unmoored, adrift. The tentative exploration ends. He knows you, now. All of you. And this is his summit. His scramble to the top. It’s biting passion; roaring flames. 

You cling to him, holding tight to the liferaft he offers in a slow huff, a gust of mirth across your lips and into your lungs, slowing down to accommodate you. Malleable, now, he lets you lead, lets you take over, and move seamlessly with him. In tandem, parallel. Equilibrium brings you to heel, and you sigh into his mouth—a deep exhale of everything that has been building and building, tipping the scales around you until it was unbalanced and precarious. Teetering on the edge a precipice unknown. 

His hand roams across your known geography—hills and streams, rivers and canyons—until he reaches your hand still bracketed around his cheeks, slowly peeling it away from his flesh to slide his fingers between yours, holding tight, and—

Kissing is immaculate. Bending at an altar, and making an offering to something bigger than yourself. It’s the spark of lightning flashing overhead, static in the air. Magnets drawing closer and closer until they snap together in the middle.

But holding his hand?

It feels like coming home. 

The world tipping back into place. Amber warmth in your veins; the softness of a jasmine petal. You suck in a deep breath at the shock of it all. 

You think of missing puzzles and loose sea ice drifting alone in the vastitude of the ocean. You think of a life where he isn’t in it and find yourself shuddering at the wrongness that emanates from it. 

You want him. Want him—

It’s Kyle who pulls away first, resting his forehead against yours. You blink slowly, eyes catching dark amber, honeycomb. It draws a smile from you, full and deep. Giddy on the taste of him, of this. 

The only thought in your head is finally, finally.

You see his lips curl in response, eyes lidded and heavy. Blooming with want, affection. Adoration. 

"What, ah—," he laughs a little, then, breathless and happy, and the noise anchors itself to your breastbone, pressing into the hollow of your ribs. A place you'll keep it forever. "What now?"

He hands you the starless sky, and places it into the cup of your palm. Breathes laughter in the air, paints the moon with his joy. You think about the places he wants to take you, and the ones he swears you'll never go. You think about aeons from now when the world is gone and the stars all die out, when there's just the hazy lavender of endless abyss you can't make sense of. You think of him, and you think of you, and you wonder when it started to just make sense for there to always be two. 

Maybe that night in Cardiff when he held your shoes and gave you his coat. When he draped his arm around your shoulders, laughing at something stupid you'd said. A year before he joined this task force he makes cheeky remarks about but never goes too deeply into detail. When it was just endless summers spent working and drinking and eating good food. 

He'd asked the same thing, then, half slumped over in the taxi, and three sheets to the wind. It made his eyes darken, endless pits. Black holes. The expanse of the sky is framed by brown lashes, and drooping lids.

And you'd said—

"Beans and toast?" It feels right. It feels good. "We can—"

He huffed, too, just like he does now, and squeezes your hand once, tugging you along. 

"We're not watching Golden Girls."

You watch Golden Girls. Kyle wraps his arm around your neck, keeps you tucked in close to his side. He steals kisses from you when Sophia says something that makes you laugh until you're breathless and trembling. 

When David from Kent texts you, he grins wide, and whispers in your ear, think I've always been a little bit in love with you, you know? 

Yeah, you say, and kiss back until the taste of him is etched into the space between your teeth. Since Cardiff. For you?

"Since Uni for sure." He smiles again, sheepish and a touch flustered. It glitters on his brow and nips the apples of his cheeks. "You stole my heart when you devoured four lamb kebabs and then ate my tabbouleh. Said to myself, yeah, that's the one for me, innit?"

"On second thought, what's that Barista's number? Might try my luck instead."

"Nah, you're smitten," he presses his lips into the hollow of your throat, nips his teeth against your pulse point. "And you're all mine. No take backs."

"Ah, for fuck's sake—"

Ahhhhhhhh. Sappy romcoms are my kryptonite and it shows.

COD MASTERLIST | NAVIGATION

[malaierba]

That one person that tagged a post focusing on Toshiro and Namari hanging out, with "Namari probably bought Toshiro a beer and changed his life" left such an impression on my brain.

Latinx moots may know the comedian Franco Escamilla, there's this story he tells about going to London and ordering a beer except no one warned him that its alcohol percentage was like 7% (in Mexico the highest in 5% but most are like 3% or something idk, correct me if I'm wrong).

So yknow how it goes, it hits him like a truck coming from his blind spot, he's suddenly everyone's friend, starts saying stuff he shouldn't, eventually reaches the point where he's just fast forwarding in time and teletransporting, dies on his bed.

Okay well, you get the general idea of what I'm imagining lol. Namari buys Toshiro a beer bcs he seems like a reasonable guy, just a bit uptight, maybe it'll help him loosen up?

She misses the moment when Toshiro's walls crumble down with the power of alcohol. Suddenly he's openly praising her combat skills and weaponry knowledge, made him feel better about being abducted into Laios team, "what do you mean by that?", suddenly he's complaining about the whole "he came up to me, told me I look weird, misheard my name etc", it's unexpected and kind of funny.

She gets him to tell her a little about his family, more about swords, they're in the middle of retelling something or the other that happened the day before that was a little funny (Chilchuck being the straight man to Laios in a particularly creative way, maybe Marsille's attempt at solving a situation with a fire explosion and failing the task successfully, etc).

At this point she kind of wants to show this unexpected development to someone, anyone, at the very least Chilchuck, so she tries to drag Toshiro to wherever the rest is staying, except that by now Toshiro's logical thinking is more alcohol than rational thinking. He gets lost a couple of times, each time she finds him either somewhere unexpected (very still besides a statue, seems like he thought he was waiting in line) or talking to randos he'd never approach sober (some other drunk tall man grabbed him as if to dance with him and he tried to play along! She saw him dance!?).

She's determined but this side quest IS getting kind of long. The moment she spots a bench she hauls his ass princess style over there, so they can sit for a minute and rest.

They end up being found by Chilchuck the next morning, who dutifully wakes them up to ask them wtf do they think they're doing sleeping outside like a couple of dogs, though only after getting out a pen and doodling on their foreheads.

He at least helps Namari drag Toshiro back (man is more dead than alive), although he never believes her when she tells him that Toshiro has bizarre yet oddly rhythmical moves.

[sbdskate]

Laws Of Attraction (Part 6) - 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: language, slight angst, alcohol consumption, mature themes

Word Count: 3,635

A/N: That’s right, I broke the ending into another part which means another chapter is on the way. If you’ve been keeping up, I appreciate you sticking with me through my draughts and generally inconsistent posting schedule. Thank you again for every like, comment, and reblog. Please let me know what you think and enjoy ❤️

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

The week passed more quickly than you anticipated. You pulled an all-nighter to draft the language you promised. It helped that you couldn’t sleep anyways. You tried to make up for it on the twenty-hour flight from Brazil to Abu Dhabi but again, rest evaded you. It didn’t help that between the travel and the time difference you basically lost a day and a half. You threw yourself deeper into your work as a distraction. You were thankful that there were lots of back and forths of redlines, as expected.

But no matter how busy you kept yourself, you couldn’t stop thinking about that damn kiss that had now been tattooed in your mind. You wished it wasn’t good. You wished he had chapped lips and tasted like onions. But it had enveloped you. The way he grabbed you and the feeling of his stubble on your face set off butterflies in your stomach and other places down south. You were pretty sure you saw through space and time and you suddenly had the ability to hear colors.

And even though the kiss was so good, it was made bittersweet by everything that was discussed afterwards. You didn’t miss the warmth leaving his eyes and his obvious disappointment. On one hand, you handled the situation the best way you knew how. You had been very clear in Mexico on the limits of your relationship, that should not have been a surprise to him. Your job was to be professional and you reestablished those boundaries. On the other, you had somehow removed every laugh line from his face. You missed the crinkles around his eyes and the reverberating bravado of his laugh. If there was another way you could have gone about the conversation, it was lost on you. Leaning into the kiss and those feelings surrounding it was legally impossible. He would simply have to pick up his bruised ego and move on, which you were sure wouldn’t be difficult. The thought helped you somewhat – he was still a handsome, charismatic celebrity who could get any girl he wanted. You were one piece of parsley in an endless buffet. Poor little rich boy couldn’t have the one dish he wanted right now, but as soon as the season was over and you went your separate ways, you would be a distant memory he would laugh at in retrospect. Amongst the models, actresses, singers, and influencers he could pick from, he had trauma bonded with his very average and nerdy lawyer during a particularly vulnerable point in his life.

As your thoughts meandered during the course of the long flight, you were appreciative that you would not be on your own this weekend. The partner apparently decided to show up in Abu Dhabi, finally making Daniel a priority knowing that the matter would be closing. You had gotten somewhat frustrated with Joe, that he kept cancelling on meetings last minute leaving you to deal with everything. There were several silver linings, however. First, you hoped it meant he trusted you with the significant responsibility, which again would likely lead to a positive performance review and a hefty bonus. It may even come in handy a few years from now when you would become eligible to make partner yourself. Second, in picking up that responsibility, you had grown a lot professionally in the last few months. Belgium felt like a lifetime ago, in more ways than one. In the last few restless days your mind kept reflecting back to that first race weekend when you were full of nerves, but lately you didn’t quite feel like the same young associate with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove. Third, for better or worse, you grew to know you client in a way you would not have been able to but for the partner’s absence and that transfer of duty. Because you knew him so well now, you were better able to represent him. This was, of course, a double-edged sword. You’d unintentionally gotten to know the driver far better than you intended. Over the course of months, he poked little holes in your armor leaving you open and vulnerable and inching you closer towards that delicate line you dared not cross. The two of you had danced around it for weeks. If you hadn’t crossed it before, kissing certainly pushed the two of you over the edge together. You wondered what he thought about all this, considering he had far less to lose from the predicament. It would probably be awkward the next time you saw each other, but hopefully still respectful and professional if nothing else.

-

Meanwhile, Daniel along with the rest of the grid arrived in Abu Dhabi a day early to have a retirement dinner party for Seb. Seb had been unexpected source of support during this uncertain time in his career. Not all of the drivers had reached out to him when news about his early termination with McLaren broke. Of those that did reach out, some were simply surface level exchanges lacking compassion and depth. Seb, however, had helped him navigate a slew of existential crisis. The least Daniel could do was return that support to his friend. He sat next to Lando and Pierre, the drivers chatting amongst themselves during the meal. Of course there was a general curiosity about his plans for next year, but he playfully remained tight-lipped. The conversation was light, reminiscing and debriefing on some of the post-race debauchery over the course of the season. It was all fun and games until Pierre brought up Halloween in Mexico and his failed attempts at bringing home an instragram influencer and a model that night.

“I think I might be losing my touch. But that was a fun night though, yeah?”

“It was, I’m surprised you remember most of it,” Daniel teased.

“Honestly, me too. That girl dressed as you, she was a good time.” Daniel did his best to remain casual, though his heart skipped at beat at your mention.

“Yeah, y/n is fun when she’s not working.”

“I’ve seen her around the paddock a few times. She’s your lawyer, right?” He took a long drink, not liking the direction the conversation was headed.

“Yeah.”

“Maybe when the season is over I can grab her number.” It was more of a statement than a question. Daniel feigned ignorance at the request and laughed.

“I mean I can give it to you, but she probably wouldn’t be able to help you.”

“How so?” Pierre looked at Daniel, both men visibly confused.

“I mean I’m no lawyer myself, but wouldn’t it be a conflict of interest for her?”

“Oh no dude, I don’t want her services – or, uh legal services I should say,” he said cheekily. Daniel’s ears immediately turned red, his jaw clenched, and hand balled into a fist. He did his best to control his facial muscles to not let on to the fact that Pierre had unknowingly stepped on an emotional landmine. Lando, who had been talking to Zhou across from him, sensed the shift in the driver sitting next to him. He diverted his attention for a moment to try to break the tension before Daniel could say or do something he would regret.

“Pierre, she’s way too smart for you and you’re not her type,” he said casually, earning a laugh from the others including Pierre.

“What are you talking about, I’m everybody’s type,” he said with a smirk.

“Yeah, I think that might be part of the problem,” Lando responded. “Plus, you’re already in a committed relationship with this one,” jabbing his thumb in the direction of Yuki. That side of the table continued to laugh and joke, Daniel included, but he didn’t miss the chance to lock eyes with his teammate to silently convey his thanks for discreetly deflecting the conversation away from the woman that had taken up so much space in his mind. Had he really almost punched his friend at a fancy restaurant during his mentor’s retirement party? He was in deep. Hook, line, and sinker.  

Daniel had bought himself more time extending the signing with Red Bull, but he had no idea what he was doing. You had made it abundantly clear that nothing could happen until after everything was signed. You also hadn’t explicitly said whether you wanted anything to happen afterwards... All he knew, whether or not anything progressed further between the two of you, he just needed to be near you. He needed more time with you, beyond Monday.

The evening continued with heartfelt sentiments exchanged, and Daniel found himself more and more in his feelings especially as the drinks flowed. He thought he recovered from Pierre’s comments at dinner, but then Seb gave a speech to the rest of grid that brought him to the brink of tears. His mentor’s goodbye made him reflect and contemplate his own journey over the year. Though neither driver would be on the grid next season, Daniel was envious that Seb had the opportunity to leave the sport on his own terms compared to the lack of agency he felt with his tenure with McLaren. Feeling unmoored, you showed up out of nowhere to turn his ship around at the eleventh hour. He wasn’t sure what was next for him, but he knew he couldn’t do it without you by his side. Maybe another drink would take his mind off you.

The night continued, one by one the other drivers called it a night. But Daniel stayed until the wee hours of the morning with some of the younger drivers who had higher tolerances. Lando took note of his teammate’s condition who refused to believe he couldn’t keep up. They hadn’t discussed the elephant in the room, but he could put two and two together even if he didn’t have all the details. You might have been discreet, but Daniel was anything but. He noticed how Daniel perked up just a little on the days you had meetings. He noticed the stupid looks you gave each other, each party oblivious to the other. He noticed all the times you went out with the drivers at Daniel’s invitation, which was surely not in your job description. And right now for whatever reason likely involving you, Daniel was miserable, his melancholia exasperated by alcohol.

“Hey mate, I think it’s time to go back to the hotel,” Lando said as he put an arm around Daniel.

“Nooo, but we’re having fun! For Seb!” Daniel slurred as he held up his drink triumphantly.

“We are having fun, but we have to get up really early. Remember?”

Daniel was too tired to fight back. So he pouted as Lando corralled him into the backseat of the car back to the hotel.

-

You rolled into Abu Dhabi at 2am. You were exhausted. You had no shame about rocking under eye patches and a face mask mid-flight to at least hopefully make it look like you’d gotten some type of rest over the last two days. Unfortunately, the dark circles that remained begged to differ.

You were in the middle of checking in when you heard commotion in the lobby behind you. You rolled your eyes at the drunks stumbling in, keeping your head down to avoid any interaction.

“That’s it, almost there mate.” You knew that voice. You slowly turned to find Lando struggling to guide a dazed Daniel towards the elevator. You rubbed your eyes and blinked a few times to make sure you were seeing clearly. That made you wake up.

“Lando? Daniel?”

Both drivers looked your way. You suddenly became very aware and self-conscious of your grungy airport outfit: messy bun, no makeup, and full Enchante sweatsuit Daniel had gifted you after Japan. You couldn’t decipher the look Lando gave you that was equal parts relieved and concerned, but Daniel’s face lit up immediately showing off those darn dimples.

“Y/n!”

“Hi. What are you guys doing?” you asked hesitantly. It was mostly directed at Lando since he still had his wits about him, but Daniel answered anyways.  

“We had to say goodbye to Seb,” he said solemnly. Lando rolled his eyes seeing the immediate look of concern and confusion on your face.

“Jesus Christ. The guy’s retiring, he didn’t die.”

You gave a polite smile. “I’m sorry, I think I’m missing something.”

“The whole grid had a retirement party for Seb, not a funeral as this one might have you believe. It started with dinner but some guys stayed out and well… he’s just been slightly overserved.” You pursed your lips together to keep from laughing. You could tell Lando’s patience had run thin, but despite his annoyance he had made sure Daniel got back safe which you appreciated.

“Well, thank you for taking care of my client.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I’m fine,” Daniel slurred a few feet away, leaning against a pillar in the opulent lobby – immediately followed by him almost slipping but quickly catching himself. He smiled again, proud and satisfied with his own rescue effort.

“Right…” you drawled. You turned to the concierge who had been patient and stoic as the scene unfolded. You’d been informed that the hotel catered to Westerners, but you were still cautious being in a country that technically followed Sharia law despite the many exceptions for expats and tourists. “My apologies ma’am, is it ok if I help escort my friend to his room for a moment? I can finish checking in afterwards.”

“Of course Miss l/n. I’ll still be here.” Having the green light to accompany the two boys, you and Lando flanked Daniel linking your arms through his to walk him to the elevator.

“I don’t need help,” *hiccup* “I’m a strong, independent woman,” he said, though he did nothing to resist your assistance.

“You are maybe half of those things,” you retorted.

“That’s being generous, I give him zero out of three,” Lando chimed in.

“Oh be nice, you know you can feel those muscles,” you lightly countered as you gave Daniel’s bicep a quick squeeze. You gave him a tired, playful smile and the look he returned you was so full of adoration it felt like your heart was going to burst at the seams. He leaned his head on your shoulder when you stepped in the elevator and you wished you could put the moment on pause to keep him there a while longer.

“You can’t possibly be referring to these chicken wings,” Lando replied. “Do you have your room key?” Lando asked Daniel, breaking your daze. Daniel shuffled for a second, patting his pockets, then nodding in confirmation. “Good, I’m going to bed.” He pressed the floor for himself, then Daniel’s.

“I’m sorry, what?” Lando gave you a knowing smile.

“I already did 90% of the heavy lifting, I’m sure you can handle it from here.” You shot daggers his way, Daniel still between the two of you, blissfully unaware of your quarrel. “See you in seven hours,” he said as he got off the elevator.

You sighed as the elevator doors closed, leaving the two of you alone. Daniel was too drunk to feel awkward about the predicament given how you last left things, a lazy smile still on his face.    

“You called me your friend. To the concierge.”

“I did.”

“I thought I was your client.”

“The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” He hummed in response. The answer seemed to make him happy. His eyes grazed over you, his smile growing.  

“You’re wearing my clothes.”

“An astute observation.”

“They look good on you.” The elevator doors opened as a blush crept to your face. You guided him into the hallway and ignored his comment.

“Ok, what number are you?”

“This way,” he said, ignoring your question and yanking you to the right. You kept your arm around him to steady his swaying. You could smell the alcohol coming off him, making you wonder about the events leading up to this but whatever it was wasn’t a conversation for today. He finally stopped in front of a door and fumbled with his pockets. You waited to make sure he could get into his room, but after a minute or two you got concerned.

“I can go back to the concierge to get another key-”

“No, no, I got it.” You watched as he fished it out from the depths of his front pocket, then struggled with getting it to work on the fob.

“Here, let me help you.” Your own patience running low, you took the key from his hands and opened the door. You had planned on finishing your check-in when you knew he made it inside, but felt bad leaving him in the condition he was in. You reasoned that it was to help him avoid a hangover in the morning so that he would be as camera ready as possible for press day, but it was a loose excuse.

You cautiously entered his room and turned on some lights. Your jaw dropped for a moment – his room was at least triple the size of every other hotel room you had stayed at over the course of the season, every detail pristine. You held the door open for him as you ogled in the foyer. He pinballed off the door frame to make his way inside, leaning against the wall across from you. He openly took you in, admiring how his merch hung from your body more perfectly than he ever could have imagined. He didn’t turn away when you returned his gaze.

“Come on let’s get you tucked in, you have a long day tomorrow – or in six and a half hours.” You grabbed his arm again and brought him towards the bed, and he happily followed you like a puppy. You were relieved he was at least cooperating. You sat him down. “Ok sir, where do you keep your pajamas?” He gave you a wicked grin.

“I don’t wear any,” he said shamelessly. You pursed your lips, you knew you walked into that one.

“Of course you don’t. Well when I leave you can get undressed. Just sit tight for a sec.” You opened up the bottle of water by the coffee maker and poured it into a glass. “Here, drink this.” He guzzled the water, so you poured him another. “Good job. How are you feeling?”

“Better now that you’re here.” He showed off his pearly whites with a giant smile, closing his eyes as his head flopped back.

Oh my God, you’re so drunk, you said under your breath. “I’m serious, do you feel nauseous at all? Headache?”

“I’m peachy,” he said as he swung his legs back and forth off the bed. He played with his hands in his lap. Seemingly able to entertain himself at least for a minute, you walked into the bathroom to go through his toiletries to find some Advil and maybe some tums for the morning. When you returned, your patient was already taking off his shirt and had started undoing his belt.

“Woah, woah, woah, slow down there tiger. Why don’t you take two Advil first?”

“I’ll do anything you tell me,” he said before swallowing the pills you handed him. “I’m going to miss you when you leave.” His sudden shift in tone threw you off. You sat down next to him to show your support and solidarity.

“You know you can always call me. It will be like I never left.”

“As a friend?” he asked hopefully. You smiled and put a reassuring hand on his thigh.

“Yes, definitely as a friend.” There was a pause.

“What about as more than a friend?” *hiccup* “Like, afterwards?” You bit your lip, but smiled.

“I think that’s a conversation for another time.”

“You didn’t say no.” You laughed.

“You’re drunk as a skunk and this is the moment you choose to dissect semantics.” He picked up your hand resting on his thigh, bringing it to his lips to kiss without breaking eye contact.

“Enchante.”

“That doesn’t even make sense, but it sure is charming as heck,” you said between laughs. You pulled your hand back and stood up. “On that note, I think you have everything you need so I’m going to head out. You have two more ibuprofen on your nightstand for the morning and two tums in case you get heartburn or an upset stomach. I set your alarm for 8:00 so you can sleep in a little, but still gives you an hour to get ready before you need to head to the paddock. I think it’s ok if you’re fashionably late.” He pouted. “Oh come on now, no need to frown. You get to take off those pants and go to bed. I’m going to go to bed too.”

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay?” He gave the best puppy eyes he could. Matched with his bare torso, six pack on full display, and unbuttoned belt and pants, anyone with a weaker constitution would’ve folded immediately. But at this point you were a trained soldier, the end of your internal battle in sight. You did make one concession though.

Maybe it was impulse. Maybe it was the jet lag. Maybe it was the possibility he wouldn’t remember any of it in the morning. But in a streak of boldness, you brought your hand to the side of his face, feeling the sharpness of his jawline and the texture of his stubble. You bent down and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Maybe next time,” you murmured, your lips ghosting over his.

His eyes were flying saucers when you stood. “Good night, Daniel. Get some rest.”

Despite how tired he was, it was hard for him to fall asleep after that.

Taglist: @ravenqueen27 @leslizzle @zendayabelova @eitak-t @chiliwhore @wewoo1233 @thatchickwiththecamera

[ndconceptarchive]

Interview with Creators of the original Secrets Can Kill game

It's honestly a very interesting interview about the early days of HI and it includes some foreshadowing to Alibi in Ashes, Tomb of the Lost Queen, and Labyrinth of Lies. (There was also a mention of possibly remastering Message in a Haunted Mansion! Although that likely wasn't in development.)

The following is a transcript from a video titled, Interview with Creators of the original Secrets Can Kill game | Nancy Drew Games | HeR Interactive. Published Aug 20, 2010. It was created in promotion for Secrets Can Kill Remastered, as seen in the video description:

"We interview Megan, Kris, Robert, and Tim about their experiences making the original version of Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill from 12 years ago! They share funny stories and give a few little known clues about the game. It's a look back at how far Her Interactive has come and where it's going with the upcoming release of Nancy Drew: Secrets Can Kill REMASTERED (PC/Mac, available on August 24)."

Interviewer: Hello, so we are here today, with four of the original people who worked on the very first Secrets Can Kill game: 

Megan, our CEO, what were you back when we made Secrets Can Kill?

Megan: I was the Creative Director when I got hired in 1997, and then Robert was…

Robert: The Program Manager. I had been recruited from the accounting department in Albuquerque, New Mexico.

Kris: I’m Kris, I was hired as a 2D artist and I came in to work with Tim…

Tim: who was also a contract artist and then, I kind of took over the 3D part at the very tail end of the project. 

Interviewer: Did you know anything about creating games when you first started on Secrets Kill? 

Robert: I did a little. I made games when I was a kid. When I got my first computer, all I did was make games for it, especially adventure-type of text-based games, so I knew just a little, but definitely not enough. I was really surprised and overwhelmed by the amount of work that it took to make a computer game.

Kris: I used to do computer day camps with my father who taught us to to program to program games in BASIC. But beyond, that no. 

Tim: Oh I played a lot of computer games, but mainly board games was my big thing. I had a little board gaming group that would just play tons of a lot of German board games. And I think that helped because a lot of those mechanics and bargains translate over into, you know, mini games and puzzles and stuff. So that was fun, but I had no design experience or [anything] at that point. 

Interviewer: So what is the biggest challenge that you guys had to face when you were making Secrets Can Kill?

Megan: Well, first, we were a new team and half the team was in Albuquerque. Then it shifted and I guess everyone moved to Bellevue by the end of the game, really, we were all learning how to work as a team and to kind of create this game around Nancy Drew. So communication I think was probably the hardest. 

Robert: yeah, because there there was a lot of assets, but not a lot of documentation to go with.

Megan: No documentation. 

Robert: Yeah, I remember you, you brought down your, the art director at that time, Laura Henion, to Albuquerque so we could all meet. 

Tim: I think the hardest part was just finishing it. It went really long, much longer than we have [now]. I mean, we got it down to a science now. 

I remember [that] I would take my work home. [I would] then get up at like 3:00 in the morning and start another render on the computer, then go back to bed and get up another half hour and check it and make some tweaks and keep running. I was doing that almost every night it seems for a while there just to get it done. 

Kris: That's really true. There were three of us in the art department at that time- counting Laura the art director. So it was a big push at the end to get work finished. That was a challenge. 

Megan: I think you know, communication was the biggest challenge, but the good part was that everybody was so excited and enthusiastic and passionate. It didn't seem to matter what obstacle came up, because we just figured out a way to overcome it. So there's a lot of trial and error in the first game. 

Interviewer: What is something funny or memorable that you remember from the process when you made that first game? 

Robert: So remember we just had a recorder, a voice recorder. So we thought, let's make silly, silly voicemail messages when you would call different places like Maxines or Aunt Eloise. So we all gathered around the microphone and and just add libbed and it was really funny. 

Tim: When I was just basically just kind of an art assitant and helping Laura, the art director, and I just came in and sat down and started doing some work and I heard some rough rustling going on. What's going on? And I looked behind me and Glenn, who was our contract 3D artist at the time (three years at the time) came out of a sleeping bag from underneath his desk.

Interviewer: Kris, do you have any memories? 

Kris: I remember the marketing at the end. When we finished the game, Megan gave me a huge stack of cell sheets to take with me to spread around town. And I remember I was going to visit my family back east, so I was supposed to take them across the country and spread them around. 

And so there was really some guerrilla marketing that went on at that point.

Interviewer: Come a long way for sure. Say, what do you think of the original Secrets Can Kill now that's been 12 years since you've made it?

Robert: It's always, it was, it's very, it was very surprising to replay it when we're when we're looking at it to remaster Master. I mean, it's just it's so much more different. It was shorter. The storyline wasn’t as as intricate as our current ones. The puzzles were pretty primitive and I think there was only like. I don't know, like 7 inventory objects. Now we have at least 30. 

Tim: We also kind of approach it little differently. It was I think the only game where we hid these hidden messages all throughout the game that had really. That we're really outside of Nancy's world and universe. It was just like like the designer hitting hiding messages in there maybe about the game. 

But it was, you know, if you look at different book spine titles in the library, you could actually, spell out a sentence or something that that might say something, mysterious.

Megan: Meaningful? Tim: But it was like, if you were actually a player in the world, you’d be like, “where did that come from?” So we kind of changed our design tactic on that later on, but that was the one game where we did kind of funny things like that.

Kris: A player wouldn’t notice, but a lot of the articles were written by our family members. Or you know, some of the photos in the game, like for example, in the student dome where Hal Tanaka sits, there's the bulletin board for student of the Month.

Tim: That's where Connie was at. 

Kris: Oh, it’s where Connie is. And so that's, you know, pictures of ourselves and our friends and family. 

Interviewer: What kind of other things did you put in there that you don't think our fans would necessarily have picked up on playing through the games that you guys hid in there?

Robert: Ohh, I remember in the opening cinematic Darrell does that, [pulls his ear] which is an old Carol Burnett move to say “hi Mom!”.

Tim: My son Sam is in the teacher's lounge, he’s in a photo, and he was like a year or two years old and now he's like a grown man, you know, it feels like (he's like 13 now). 

Megan: So I can't remember if that's the one my nieces were in, but when I told them [that they were in a game] they said, “do we talk when you press on us?” And I said “no, maybe in the next game.” 

So what was really neat was when we got together with girls to have them play games at that time to see what they thought about Nancy Drew and games in general. 

And girls didn't really play games back then. And so their feedback actually helped us to improve on existing gameplay rather than just perpetuate stereotypes. 

They would say, when they're playing a shooter, “you know, we don't mind shooting, however, we prefer a reason before we shoot. Like if they were beating up my little sister, I'd be all over them.” So they really helped us with their input in terms of making the games, that that they wanted. 

Interviewer: What are some of the changes that you think have made the biggest impact in the newer games versus the original one? 

Tim: I think the design, the tighter design, kind of the overarching puzzle that is woven into the game is very compelling and interesting to follow for this new game. I think. 

The old game was much more open and just kind of, I mean, you could explore, but. There was a little bit more wandering and trying to piece together what was going on. This one, it's just more cleverly put together. Also the graphics. I think make a big difference with the new lighting and just a little bit updated the 3D characters definitely is a huge difference. 

Robert: Something the players won’t notice is that we now use Lua rather than our proprietary scripting language. It was horrendous. Very 20th century, so even though that doesn't affect the players, it really affected us and made it much more easy to put the the games together.

Kris: I feel really nostalgic playing this game going back but as far as the fun factor is concerned, I really liked that the arcade-style mini-games are now included

Interviewer: Barnacle Blast!

Kris: Yeah. 

Megan: I remember when we were on our first or second game people would say so what are you gonna do after that i mean nobody's gonna play a third Nancy Drew game.

Interviewer: Did you imagine that you guys would be still making these games 23 games later? 

Everyone: No [visibly shaking heads]

Tim: It’s pretty incredible just to think about. Every once in a while I’ll just pull up the codes and stuff because I can’t keep track of which games are in what order anymore. I’ll just look through this list and think “I’ve been here for all of these.” It’s crazy. I mean, it’s something I’m really prud of, that we’ve been able to last that long and create just this wonderful collection.

Megan: I think there’s just the team that you know, that we had all these years. Everyone is so talented and creative. There’s this creative collaboration from the beginning where everybody feels comfortable to add their ideas to the mix. 

Robert: The sky’s the limit for Nancy Drew. There’s so many stories you can tell, so many places you can go, so many people you can meet. It’s fun reinventing Nancy Drew for other platforms as well.

Tim: We get feedback all the time from players who are like “I really wanna see Nancy go to Egypt or to Greece” and we 

Megan: We’re all storytellers. We all come from very different backgrounds. Math, architecture, film, art, but we all love to tell a story. And in these Nancy Drew games, there’s a weave of fact and fiction. And it’s a lot of meaningful content. Historical references and characters, cultural discovery, you learn about the folklore. You learn, but you’re having so much fun you don’t even realize. 

Interviewer: What mystery would you like to see Nancy Drew solve in the future now that we’re talking about how the sky’s the limit? Robert: I actually liked going back to Secrets Can Kill. And I kind of wanna do some retro stuff. So I wouldn't mind going back to like Haunted Mansion and maybe something was left unfound. 

Kris: I might like to see Nancy go to Thailand so we could showcase the architecture of Thailand.

Tim: So many great characters.  some of these secondary characters that you never see like Krolmeister and Sonny Joon and all these people that have kind of built up this universe. It's it's great to be able to go back and and draw from some of that and create more content from that. 

Megan: Traveling just to different countries. I think that's so interesting. Egypt would be fascinating. 

Robert: I think it'd be also fun to take her back home. You know, we we haven't explored River Heights and there's just so much there too and this just wide geography of River Heights. It would be fun to look at. 

Interviewer: Do you guys have anything else that you'd like our fans to know about the new version of Secrets Can Kill Remastered? 

Robert: There's clues everywhere so…

[laughter from everyone] 

Megan: What made you give that away! 

Interviewer: We hope to see a lot more games from you guys.  Megan & the others: thank you, Thank you! We hope you enjoyed this.

[gucciwins]

a midnight kiss 

harry decides to make a move before the clock strikes midnight 

A/N: hi friends! nothing better to end and start the year with is a new story. something short and sweet for you all to enjoy. love you!!! catch me at midnight running around my house with my suitcase :D

Word count: 2182

+

Losing her friends minutes before the clock struck twelve had Y/N nervous. She was comfortable being alone, but only in an environment she enjoyed. She enjoyed the library, which had the best reading spot on the third floor down a back corner that allowed her to stay seated all day. There was also her brother’s tattoo shop, where she sat behind the counter greeting new customers, always excited when they showed off a new piercing or new tattoo. There were few places, and tonight she was feeling lost in the crowd of unknown strangers.

Y/N began to push through the crowd hoping to make it to the patio doors outside, happy to ring in new year’s alone, staring up at the moon than with drunk strangers. What Y/N didn’t realize was that someone had their eye on her all night, working up the courage to talk to her. He had seen her around, how she laughed at her friend's jokes and always searching for a hand to hold.

Seeing her head outside, he knew it was a moment he couldn’t miss out on. Harry wouldn’t want her ringing in the new year alone.

“Not cold?”

Y/N turns when she hears a voice fill the silence. She squints her eyes until he sets into the light, the moonlight bouncing off his face allowing her to get a good look at him.

It’s Harry.

She had seen him multiple times at the tattoo shop. She always gushed over his new pieces. Telling him which were her favorite tattoos he had but never offered more than a half smile.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.”

She remembers she never answered his question. “I like the cold.”

As Harry steps closers, he can see the goosebumps on her arms and begins to shrug off his coat and place it over Y/N without giving her a choice. “Just because you like it doesn’t mean you should endure it.”

Y/N tucks her head down, biting back a smile at Harry’s kindness. “Thank you.”

Harry looks at the sky and knows it will light up with fireworks in minutes. London never did shy away from a big display to ring in the new year.

“What’s your new year’s resolution?”

Y/N giggles, “didn’t take you for the type to have one of those, Harry.”

He shrugs, bumping his arm into hers, “when you really mean them, then I reckon you’ll do anything to make it happen.”

She takes a second to think it over and knows he’s right. There have been a few years since Y/N followed through with her resolution. When she was younger, she promised she wouldn’t curse anymore, and three days in, her brother changed her shampoo to pink hair dye, and she cursed at him like a sailor. There was also the year she swore she’d go to the gym consistently, promising to get a membership that was rubbish. Two years ago, her resolution was to connect more with herself and get into yoga. She learned new poses and meditation with each class, leaving with newfound confidence and friends. Last year, her resolution was to take on new adventures, leading her to Mexico for a research opportunity. A professor urged her to apply, and off she went. Y/N also visited Iceland over a long holiday, where she went on her first of many solo trips. Now, this year Y/N had an idea of what she wanted but was a bit bashful to share it with Harry, who had only ever spoken a handful of words with at most.

“Think mine’s rather silly then.”

Harry shakes his head, “don’t believe it.”

Y/N sighs, “will you tell me yours?”

“Promise.”

It’s good enough for Y/N.

“I want to get a tattoo,” she mumbles.

Y/N turns her head to see Harry’s reaction. He has a pout on his lips, and Y/N wishes she could kiss it away. Sue her. She has a crush on Harry. He visits the shop frequently; how could she forget him, there’s always a new tattoo being added to his left arm, and she wonders if there are more she doesn’t even know about.

“Your brother owns Sunflower Ink.” Harry states. “Why hasn’t he?”

She shakes her head, trying to find the words to explain to Harry why she’s never gotten a tattoo. “He’s drawn me endless sketches, and I love them. I want them on me forever.”

“Then why don’t you?”

Y/N feels her face flush, “because he won’t hold my hand.”

She waits for Harry to start laughing at her, but he doesn’t. He looks down at her pink nails and frowns. He reaches his hand slowly, testing to see if Y/N would stop him, but she doesn't. She is lost in a trance staring at the rings on Harry’s fingers, a silver robin, a lion head, and a pearled ring. The rings seem perfect for Harry, and she wonders if he takes them off each night, thinking about the beauty of each ring only to repeat the cycle tomorrow by slipping them on.

Harry’s warm hand reaches her cold and frowns at the contrast, but it doesn’t stop him. He slips his fingers between the cracks of hers. Y/N stares at where they now stand intertwined, and she smiles because she likes the feeling of his palm in hers.

“Like that?” Harry asks.

“Something like that,” she whispers, still lost in how quickly her body is beginning to warm up due to his added connection to her.

“I’d hold your hand.”

Y/N breaks her gaze from their intertwined hands to look up at him, his emerald eyes gleaming in the moonlight, and she knows he means it.

“You wouldn’t be embarrassed,” she asks.

He shakes his head, “not if I was making you feel safe.”

Y/N lets his offer sink, and she wants to say yes. She’s scared that if she accepts, he’ll say no or that tomorrow he’ll come into the shops and tell her he can’t sit with her while her brother pierces a needle into her skin.

She nods, “I’d need your number to let you know when my appointment is.”

Harry grins, showing her the dimples he’s always kept tucked away, “I can do that.”

“Now?”

He shakes his head, “is it okay if I hold your hand a little longer?”

Y/N is quick to nod her head, making Harry breathe out a laugh at her eagerness. They fall silent once more, no longer caring about the people they came with, too lost in their own world outside the party.

“What–do you want to share your resolution?” Y/N asks with hopeful eyes but knows if he says no, she will understand.

Harry shrugs, squeezing her hand twice before shifting his eyes away from her, “don’t know if it’s a resolution, more of a wish, really.”

Y/N doesn’t push him to share. She wonders what he could want. Harry seems like the guy to have it all. His eyes meet hers again, and she flashes him a comforting smile wanting him to know he’s safe with her.

He lets out a deep breath.

“I want to kiss you,” he confesses.

Y/N can’t hide her surprise. “Harry,” she breathes out.

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I—”

Harry shuts up when he feels Y/N place a hand on his chest. They’d never been this close. There was always a counter between them.

“I’ve never had a new year’s kiss,” she confesses, sliding her hand up to rest on the back of his neck. Harry gaining courage, slips one hand around her waist, pulling in closer, wanting no space between them.

“Can’t say I have either.” Harry knows it comes as a shock to Y/N, but he thought ringing in the new year with someone had to be special, and there’s no one more special than Y/N.

“You’d be willing to give that to me,” she asks, shocked.

Harry chuckles, “why do you sound surprised?”

Y/N shrugs. His eyes are full of curiosity. “Didn’t think you liked me.”

“Why would you say that, love?”

“Because when I tried to make conversation, you always rushed out the door.”

Harry sighs. He leans his head down to rest against hers. “Because you make me a nervous mess. You sit there in your cute jumpers complimenting my tattoos, telling me how pretty they look on me.”

Y/N smiles, feeling her cheeks heat up at the confession. “Well, you made me think I scared you off.”

“You’re the reason I keep coming back to Sunflower Ink,” he shares. “After my second appointment there, I realized you worked there, and I knew if I kept getting a new tattoo, I’d get you to compliment it after.”

She all but melts into Harry at his confession. She had no idea. He had a crush on her because Y/N felt the same way. All this time, Y/N was trying to grow her relationship with Harry. He'd rush out after leaving a big tip, knowing she got a small part of the tips because she made him nervous. Y/N didn’t think she had that kind of effect on anyone. Her brother told her she brought in customers, but she thought he was supposed to say that. Now Harry is telling her she’s the reason he goes back every time.

“You’ve never needed anyone to hold your hand,” she asks, overwhelmed with all the information Harry had shared.

“Only if you’re offering,” he replies with a cheeky grin.

“Me first,” she promises him.

“I can wait.”

Y/N stares at Harry, admiring his pretty face. When she first met him, he always liked to wear his hair in a bun, and one time he walked in with it down, a scrunchie in his hand, and Y/N thought she’d never recover. Then on Valentine’s Day, Harry walked in wearing a lavender knitted sweater with his hair cut. As Mitch quickly took Harry to his station that day, he spared her a look. She had to leave early for class, never having the chance to tell him how much she loved the new look or what new piece he was getting. She knew with a pretty face like Harry’s, he could pull off any look.

“What are you thinking about, love?”

Y/N bites back a smile at the term of endearment, “About a new year’s kiss.”

“Oh yeah,” Harry teases, “have anyone in mind?”

“Mhmm,” the smile on Harry’s face grows. “But if I were to let him be my new year’s kiss, I don’t know if that kiss would be enough?”

Harry tilts his head in confusion, “What do you mean?”

“See, I haven’t had a Valentine’s kiss or St. Patrick’s,” Harry is quick to catch on, and he’s grinning from ear to ear at what she’s proposing.

“I’ve never had a birthday kiss,” he adds.

She smiles, nodding, “when’s that?”

“February 1st.”

“That’s close. Think I’d be special enough to share that with you?”

“You’re the only one I want.”

“If I kiss you tonight, will you promise to give me your birthday kiss?”

Harry lets go of her hand, moving both to cup her face needing to be closer to her. He brings her close, their noses touching. “If you let me kiss you today, I’ll kiss you whenever you ask.”

“Is that a promise?”

“It is.”

Faintly, they can hear the countdown begin. Y/N knows what’s coming; she can feel her heart wanting to beat out of her chest, but she’s also calm because she’s excited for what the new year will bring for her.

“Three,” Harry whispers.

“Two,” she feels his breath mix with hers.

“One.”

Harry connects his lips with hers in a deep kiss. Y/N hears the fireworks going off around her, and every part of her feels like she’s exploding. He leads the kiss, and Y/N follows him, never wanting to part, loving the sweet taste of cherry on his lips.

She pulls back slowly, trying to catch her breath, opening her eyes to see Harry’s lip swollen, a cheshire grin on his face, and she knows that 2023 will be a year of kisses and tattoos.

“Happy New Year’s,” she whispers.

“Happy New Year’s, Y/N.”

Harry tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “can I have another kiss?”

“You can have as many as you like,” she promises.

“Might have to keep you forever, it seems.”

Y/N laughs as she feels Harry slips his arms under her (his) coat to rest on her waist. “I wouldn’t mind at all, Harry.”

“Good. Now come here.”

Y/N grins, their mouths meeting once more, getting lost in the feeling of each other. There’s still so much to learn about one another, but Y/N knows she’s got all the time with Harry.

After all, she did promise him a birthday kiss.

[darkesttimelinestuff]

"Do you recognize this?"

Day 7 of Fictober! How am I still doing this? Really proud that I've been able to write every day.

I had a lot of fun finding pictures for today's story.

Prompt #7 - "Do you recognize this?"

Find me on Ao3

Scully had turned her office upside down and inside out looking for her passport. She knew exactly where it was. Where she always kept it. Or, at least where it should have been. 

Maybe Mulder had moved it. He sometimes tossed things aside without realizing it. That’s how she had lost her paycheck once, until it turned up at the bottom of some of Mulder’s papers. Neither was quite sure how it had happened, but from then on Scully was certain to keep important documents as far from Mulder’s reach as possible. 

“Mulder, are you sure you didn’t touch the things in my desk?” she called across the room.

“I’m sure!” he shouted back defensively. “What business would I have going through your desk?”

“Because I always keep my passport right here,” she said, pointing to a drawer, “and I don’t see it. And if I can’t find it, we can’t go to Mexico tomorrow.”

Mulder stood and crossed the room to her desk. “Let me check,” he offered. “Two sets of eyes are better than one, right?”

She motioned with her hand, giving him permission to look.

“Be my guest, but I doubt you’ll find it. I’ve searched that desk twice,” she insisted, slumping in a nearby chair in frustration. 

As Mulder bent over the desk in concentration, Scully checked out his ass. Even in his 50s he had killer buns! 

“It’s so unlike you to misplace these things,” he was saying. “I’m a little disappoint…”

And then he stopped. 

“What?” she asked, worried that maybe he found her passport but it was damaged or expired. 

“Oh wow!” he exclaimed, standing up and examining something she couldn’t quite see. 

It looked like a small paper and she suddenly became very self-conscious. 

“What is it?” she asked, reaching for his hands, hoping to pry them open.

“Oh, it is the most perfect thing I’ve ever seen,” Mulder said, “and I can’t believe you never showed me!”

“Mulder, what is it?” she demanded, cursing her short stature. 

“Do you recognize this?” He held up a photograph.

“Oh, my god,” she said, feeling both embarrassed and defensive about the picture. “I haven't thought about that in a very long time.”

The picture showed a young Dana Katherine Scully on a bed in a black lace push-up bra and panties. She hated that word, but there was no better term for it. They weren’t underwear; that was too plain. No, these were panties. The kind a partner used their teeth to slide down your legs. 

This was Dana, not Scully, and she was bold and sensual, rather than pragmatic and sensible. Her smothering eyes said, “come fuck me,” and you couldn’t deny her anything. 

“Well,” Mulder said, licking his lips, “this is fucking incredible.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes! I love this! I can’t believe you didn’t tell me about this.”

“There are,” Scully said hesitantly, “more.”

“I need to see them,” he replied, almost too excited.

“Well, this was back when I first started at the F.B.I.,” she said, searching for the other pictures. “My friend suggested it and I don’t know what possessed me, but it seemed like a good idea.”

“Do you regret it?”

“No, not at all! I’m very proud of these pictures. But they’re more for me than anyone else. Ah! Here they are,” she said, handing him the rest of the photos.

The pictures showed a progression of Dana Scully shedding a man’s white button-up shirt, so that she was hugging her lace-clad breasts, posing suggestively on a bed, and, in the last one, looking right into the camera with nothing but a sheet wrapped around her.

“Well, I would be honored if they could also be for me.”

“They aren’t a secret. I just forgot about them,” she admitted. “So much has happened to us.”

“We’ve known each other, what, over twenty years,” Mulder said, “and you never thought to show me these?”

“Twenty-five years.”

“I’m really glad you lost your passport,” Mulder said, studying each and every photo.

[sooinbloom]

Hi there! I really love your work! Thank you for working so hard to create an amazing fanfic for us 🫶🏻. I have a request for you. Since I'm a typical person who finds comfort in angst stories, could you please write an angst story about Kyungsoo based on his song 'The View'? Thank you very much!

Answer: when I got this request I literally SCREAMED. Thank you @sooadorable for the request! I have been writing a series and wondered how I could introduce it, and this is the best way because it lines up with the story perfectly! I hope you enjoy this, thank you so much for the request and all of your support! Dividers by @saradika-graphics

The View

genre: angst, drama, Kyungsoo!AU, EXO!AU, romance

word count: 2,011

theme: marriage in trouble, lovers to enemies, separation, impending divorce, broken heart

warnings: use of alcohol, cursing, mentions of self harm, implied smut, sad kyungsoo, depressed kyungsoo

summary: Kyungsoo is separated from his wife and finds comfort in a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey and old home movies as he tries to figure out what to do with the divorce papers he was served. Based off of his song, “The View”.

I stare out into the vast open sky from my living room floor, the sunset paints beautiful colors that canvas the atmosphere above the rolling waves of the Pacific Ocean. I can get lost in moments like this, the times where my head is completely clear and I take in everything around me.

Slowly, effortlessly, the yellows become the golden flecks in her gorgeous eyes. The wind is her touch, soft and sends chills down my spine. The reds are her lips when she gets ready for date nights, putting on lipstick just for me. Even though she didn’t need it, she looked so spectacular in that shade of red. The waves are the promises we made, consistently rolling back to me to remind me that I failed to keep so many. Being here in this kind of scene just isn’t the same without her.

I watched my wife, Mila, walk out of the door and never turn back due to my own stupidity. I haven’t slept well since she left. I haven’t been able to eat on some days. Nothing in my life feels right anymore.

Our vacation home in Malibu looks out onto the shore, for the times we needed to get away from it all and spend time together. Tonight is my last night here before I have to fly back to New York to finish my album and I wish I could stay here longer. It’s the closest thing that I have to being with her.

Everywhere I turn, there’s pieces of Mila in every single thing. She’s in the clouds, the wind, the moon that grows brighter and brighter by the second. The last six months have been hell without her.

Watching old videos of us together has to be a form of self harm, but this is the only way I can see her smile. My eyes are glued to the screen as memories play out from different points in our relationship. From moving in to our first apartment together after we got married. From traveling to Korea to see my family. Waking up in Spain on our European tour together to staying up late in the studio to our honeymoon. I’ve replayed the honeymoon videos over and over, mesmerized as the events play out on screen. We were so young, Mila was 20 and I was 22. I need to be honest with myself, it wasn’t a honeymoon… It was our elopement at Mila’s grandparent’s ranch in Mexico. We stayed in the guest house on the ranch, and it was the happiest we’d ever been.

"Come here." My voice whines from the TV.

"No! Why are you recording us? It’s so weird!" Mila giggles. I grab the phone and the focus is Mila sitting with her leg tucked under her with cheeks tinted pink.

"Look at you, Angel." I breathe, calling her by her nickname. “You’re so gorgeous and you just woke up.”

“Soo!” Mila blushes. She tries to cover her face but I won’t let her.

“Don’t hide your gorgeous face from me.”

The engagement ring and wedding band on her left hand glimmers on screen. The rays of morning light filter into the room and it can’t even compare to her smile. She didn’t need to try at all, she just naturally glowed. I love it when she’s this way, no makeup, hair down and only wearing my t shirt.

I pull Mila by her waist into the frame and kiss her, my arm protectively still around her. I tease her by tracing her lips with mine and smile between kisses, placing her into my lap. I lean and prop the phone on the bedside table and we're in full view on the bed. Mila’s hands run through my hair, something she did when we’d be intimate like this. Her smile fades as she wraps her arms around my neck.

“Soo… I’m worried. I’m scared that us running off and getting married is going to make things worse with my father and brother.” Mila expresses. I press my forehead against hers, holding her tight in my arms.

"Listen to me. No matter what happens, my heart is yours. Angel, we’re married. Nothing can separate us. Not Sungho, not Chanyeol, no one. I know that we both took a risk when we didn’t tell Chanyeol that we were just dating. He’s your brother and my best friend. I can’t imagine how hard it was for you to keep that from your brother. You’re everything to me, my best friend, my life. All I care about is that you’re happy with this decision. They’ll come around, we just have to give it time.” I say lowly.

Mila nods her head, her hands glide down my shoulder to my forearms.

“I hope Chanyeol will come around, him and I are close and I never expected he’d react in the way he did. With my father… He may take longer but it’ll be okay. I’m beyond happy. This feels so right, yeobo.” Mila smiles again, and it’s a personal victory that she’s glowing again. “I just… Don’t know how I feel about you filming us in bed. It’s kind of…”

“Jagiya, stop. This is for our memories. This is our honeymoon. I had to document just how gorgeous you are when you wake up in the morning. You make the world around you envious.” I whisper, caressing her face.

"This is like a dream. I don’t want to go back to reality.” Our eye contact is strong, it never deviates from one another. I run my fingers through her hair and cup her face in my hands.

We fall into a deep kiss, molding ourselves to each other. We break slowly and a fire is ablaze in her eyes, full of want. She pushes me down onto the bed, I roll over until I’m on top of her.

“Look at me, Angel.” I straighten her gaze back to me by guiding her jaw back to face me. I lean down and kiss her velvety soft lips, my hand slides down to her throat. Her soft whimpers fill the room as my lips roam her jaw and down her neck. I stop at her shoulder and smirk into the camera.

“Mila, you’ll never forget this.” I say into the camera and nip her collarbone. She shrieks and holds onto me tighter. Before we go further, Mila grabs the phone and laughs.

“Nice try, Mr. Doh.”

We laugh and she cuddles into me, stopping the recording. I turn the TV off. Seeing my wife smile like that is something I haven’t seen in a long time. Tears threaten my eyes as the moon glows brighter. I can’t even remember when I started drinking or how I got halfway done with my bottle of Tennessee Whiskey. Now there’s nothing left but reminders that she’s not mine anymore. I shouldn’t have been working so much, prioritizing everything else over her, or even worse… I shouldn’t have been such a jealous monster. Being young and stupid, I’d bubble over with jealousy if a man just as much as gazed at her.

To be fair, Mila is a beautiful woman inside and out. She’s so selfless, humble and never afraid to be herself. Mila is known around the world for her music, to say she’s talented is an understatement. Watching her onstage is like a dream, she bursts to life when she performs. The entire world gets to see the woman that I am so proud to call her my wife.

Her physical beauty is just a bonus. Her sun kissed skin seems to glow, her plump lips framed her adorable smile perfectly, I could lose myself in her gorgeous eyes if I could. Her body is a gift from God, effortless curves that would hypnotize me the moment she’d walk into a room. She came right out of my dreams, everything about her is perfect.

It was never a secret that men pined over her and how gorgeous she is. I never checked my jealousy, something she never deserved.

I was certain every man she came across fantasized about her and wanted her the way I wanted her. I was so certain that it made me crazy. It was so bad that we started to fight all of the time and she finally had enough.

I open the sliding glass door to listen to the waves. The warmth from the whiskey offsets the cold night air, I wait for Mila’s arms to hug me into her embrace and when it doesn’t come, my heart splinters. I handled winter and spring without her, but summer reminded me how much worse it is that we’re separated. How she takes shape in the view.

“Mila… I miss you…” I whisper into the night air. The stars and moon start to sway and my vision clouds over. I rub my temples and turn my back to the ocean, glancing over at the divorce papers on the counter. I wrecked my brain relentlessly over what made Mila want a divorce. I didn’t cheat on her, I didn’t ever lay a hand on her and I didn’t lie to her or kept anything from her.

We could work on our problems easily, if she’d just allow it. Our last fight was the worst one, I can’t even remember what words were exchanged but that didn’t matter. What haunted me was that I made her cry. Something I swore I’d never do. I wanted to fix it and Mila wanted nothing to do with me.

Divorce papers.

This is not how I expected our relationship to end. I didn’t want it to end at all. I have to prove it to her that I’m going to change… Once the room stops spinning…

I stumble back and collapse onto the couch, closing my eyes to continue the memory the week we spent together on the ranch when we got married. Mila and I were in bed, cuddled up during one of our late nights. Mila’s fingers dance across my chest, her eyes heavy with fatigue.

“Promise me something, Soo.” She whispers.

“Yes, Angel?”

“Promise me that no matter what happens, we’ll never give up. We’ll never separate. Even if times get difficult, I don’t want to give up.” Mila pleads with her eyes.

“I promise you, Mila. I’ll never give up on you or us. If we somehow get lost or strained… We’ll fix it. I’ll fight for you until the very end, that’s my promise to you.” I reply, kissing her forehead.

“I’ll fight for you too. I’ll fight for us. This is different… Marriage is so different from just dating. You and I are in this together for life. I know I’m stubborn. I know I’m difficult to deal with, I’ll do better.” Mila smirks. I laugh and pin her under me, my forearms are on either side of her head.

“Your attitude is very easy to deal with. You’re a brat sometimes but it’s nothing I can’t handle.” I laugh, kissing her slowly. “But you’re mine, whether you like it or not.”

“I love it. I love you.” Mila smiles. “Our promise is sealed with a kiss, isn’t it?”

I kiss her mouth and cheeks, nodding. “Of course it is, Angel.”

The memory fades from my head. Everything she said that night resounds in my head. I can’t sit her and feel sorry for myself and drink myself to death anymore. She made me promise her that I’d fight for her, and that we’d never separate. It’s my fault she pushed away, it’s my fault she doesn’t want to be near me. I have to fight for her, I have to keep my promise.

The first thing I decided to do is not sign the papers. If Mila wants a fight, that’s what she’s going to get. I can’t take her just being a memory that I can see in the world around me. She has to see that she is my world. She’s my view.

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Thirteen

Jude slides into the seat across from me at the table of this brightly lit Turkish kebab place on Liffey Street. He’s only bought a bottle of Pepsi, while I’ve piled the table high with taco chips, lamb kebab, chicken goujons and a giant strawberry milkshake. I eye him as he twists open the cap of his drink. 

“Wow, greedy.” I say.

He laughs. “Yeah you’re going to have to have me airlifted out of here. Can I’ve a chip?” He reaches out but I smack his hand away. “You’re doing that thing that boys always complain about, when girls don’t order enough food so they steal theirs.” 

“Come on.” He says. “Just one, for God’s sake.” I relent and let him, but only one. I eye him suspiciously as he plucks it out of the box.

“Did you want to count it?” He teases. “To make sure I’ve not hidden another one in my hand?”

“Okay just shush for a minute.” I urge him. “I just really want to eat.” He signs and leans back in the seat, taking slow, leisurely sips of his pepsi while I tear at my food like some kind of feral beast. Nothing has ever tasted as delicious as this particular kebab, in this particular restaurant, even though the floors are sticky and there’s a drunk man snoring in the booth across from us thus creating an interesting ambience. 

“Skipped dinner?” He queries after a few minutes of silence where he allows me to satiate myself.

“Mmm.” I say. “Didn’t have time to eat.” I grab a napkin and swipe it across my mouth, afraid that it’s as coated in sauce as my hands are. I try to get some small talk going to distract from what is probably an abominable sight for him. “So you ate at some Mexican restaurant earlier?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“Risky move, I’d say, bringing an American to a Mexican restaurant.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because everyone knows we can’t ever compete with the way they do it over there. Everyone’s always like ‘Oh you don’t know Mexican food until you go to the states’. Or whatever.”

“Or Mexico.” He supplies, and I grin.

“In case your memory has been lost to the sands of time, I did actually live my entire teenage life in Dublin. I was here for the inception of the burrito craze, but still, you’re right. It’s not the same.” He drums his fingers on the side of the plastic bottle. He’s still got some of that zippy, restless energy that he used to have, but not as intensely as before. I no longer get the sense that he might rocket out of his seat at any moment. “It was nice to see Shane and Claire again, they both look good.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah! Shane looks so much fitter than he ever did, he’s in great shape.”

“He’s been training a lot. He has to drive back home twice a week to train with the team, and even outside of that he’s in the gym the whole time.”

“Good for him.”

“Bit miserable though, you don’t think?”

He smirks. “Clearly you think so.”

“Well.” I begin, swallowing a huge mouthful of kebab. “He doesn’t really ever do anything fun. He gets barely any free time, and even at that his coach has all these strict rules about how much he’s allowed to drink and whatnot.”

“Alright Evie.” He says in a mock-condescending voice, but it makes me feel a little ashamed all the same. I never realised how easily unkind words spilled out of my mouth before, and it’s not even like I have a particular problem with Shane. But Jude is being nice, he goes on speaking before I start flailing around looking for an excuse for myself.

“I remember having to do that back when I was on my school rugby team.” He reminisces. “Funnily enough, another rule was abstinence.”

I glance up from my food. “Really?”

“They said that sex’d diminish our energy and testosterone and we’d end up playing a weak game, but…” He shrugs. “I don’t think it ever made a real difference. It was probably another one of those weird Catholic rules that your country is obsessed with.” I bristle a little bit against the way he says ‘your country’ like he’s divorced from it, like he hasn’t got our weird Catholic blood in his veins. 

“So come on, Evie.” He says, leaning his elbows onto the table. “What’s been going on with you? I can’t believe it’s been so long since we spoke.”

“I know.” I say. “I guess we lost touch at one point there.” I slide my eyes up to meet his, not feeling as jovial as I had a minute ago, and his smile falters to become a little rueful. “Yeah, I regret that. Life got so busy for me so quickly after I moved, I guess it was kind of a whirlwind situation.” He touches his hair self consciously. “But I thought of you often, I always imagined that we might see each other again.”

“Ah well, here we are.” I say. “A year and a half later.” I watch his hand reach out to touch my arm but I swiftly move it out of the way to grab my milkshake so that his palm hits the table instead. He curls it slowly into a fist and pulls it back onto his lap. “You look really different.” He says. “You know, I always think of you with that really long hair.”

“Yeah I cut it all off.”

“ And are you still running? And swimming? Do you still do all of that?”

“No, actually, I don’t.” I say. “I suppose I fell out of the habit of it when I moved here, I don’t really do many of the things I used to do.” I’m different now, I’ve changed so much since we last spoke. I look different, I do different things, and I feel differently about him now than I did when I was seventeen. I have to keep repeating this in my head as he gives me the kind of familiar smile that threatens to wipe out the last nineteen months. 

I stare at him unsmiling. “How’s things in Berlin? Better than they were here after all?”

“Really good. Hey.” A frown comes between his eyebrows and the corners of his pretty mouth turn downwards with concern. “Are you angry with me over losing touch?”

“Why’d you ask?”

“You’ve just gone so chilly all of a sudden, I don’t know.”

I pause for a moment. “It’d be a bit intense if I was still angry over something like that, wouldn’t it?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Well, good to know you got my email. It’s a pity it wasn’t worth responding to.”

He laughs with surprise, as though he was expecting me to act the way I used to act. Docile. “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. I could have dealt with it better, but I was in a new city, and there were all of these new people. I left it sitting there too long and then, well, it felt like it’d be weird to respond after so much time.”

“Well, you know if you really wanted to you could have emailed me in a new thread.”

He arches his eyebrow “And equally, you could have sent the first message.”

I snap my mouth shut and pick through my food again, knowing that he’s right, but also knowing that I wouldn’t have been capable of doing something like that, double emailing him, like some kind of pathetic, desperate fool. The kind of pitiful low that I’d never have stooped to, not in front of him. 

“You have a new piercing in your ear.” I say quietly after a few moments of silence, grasping at anything that will stop this conversation heading down a too-vulnerable path. He reaches up to fiddle with the third tiny hoop in his ear, this one on the left side, looped around his anti-helix. 

“Yeah I figured that I already have a girl’s name and my dad thinks the other two piercings mean I’m gay so I might as well double down.” He grins. “I got it done when I went to Slovenia, actually. It was painful.”

“Little baby.” I tease. “I don’t remember mine being that bad, I got it done when I was like sixteen.”

His eyes go wide as he suddenly recalls. “I remember your piercings, you used to have four on one ear. Let me see.”

I turn my head to show him that they’re all gone now, nothing dangling from them but a simple set of gold hoops in my lobes. “I took them all out.” I admit. “They just didn’t feel like me anymore.”

“Damn, I always thought they were cool.” I almost remind him that nothing about me back then was cool, but then stop myself because I know now that language like that is a trap and he’ll only feel obligated to deny it. 

“Any other surprises up your sleeve?” I ask him, and he quickly steals another chip. I don’t stop him, finally starting to feel human again. 

“Funny you should ask.” He says as he chews on it. “I got this in Thailand.” He rolls up the left sleeve of his sweatshirt to show me the tattoo on the smooth inner skin of his forearm. It’s a mango on a stem with two leaves, done in simple black ink with this appealing, sketchy style. It looks a bit like something he might have drawn.

“Oh, nice.” I say. “Did you design it?”

“No, the woman in the tattoo parlour did. We were just passing by and I knew I had to get something done by her, like, I knew it was a kind of a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

“Does it mean something special?”

He grins. “Nope, it’s just a nice drawing.”

“Fair enough.” I wonder what it’s like to be so nonchalant about something that’s going to be on your body for the rest of your life. It’s exactly the kind of free spirited thing that I wish I was capable of doing, but sometimes I have anxiety dreams that I’ve gotten a tattoo that I regret in a really prominent place like my face and for some reason nobody will laser it off for me. I take them as a sign that I’m not ready for anything so permanent. He picks at my chips again and I slide them towards him so he can tuck in with fervent enthusiasm, and while he eats I ask him about Thailand. 

“I went May last year.” He says. “I always wanted to visit. So my friend Jonas and I decided to take off for a month while we had the chance and it was incredible. Seriously. I think everyone should go and experience it if they can.”

“Really? What was it like?”

“I can’t even do it justice by trying to describe it to you. C’mere.” He pats the seat next to him and pulls out his phone. “I’ll show you some pictures.”

I slide out of my seat and move in next to him, being very careful to leave enough room for Jesus between us in case our legs touch and sand of those dangerous feelings I used to have come flying back. 

“No Blockia.” I comment. 

“Hm?”

“Your old phone. It’s gone.”

“Yes.” He grins. “I couldn’t fight the future anymore, it just wasn’t practical, I needed Google Maps to get around.”

“They have torches built in now, did you know.”

He exhales a laugh and shakes his head. “Alright, well, let’s look at my holiday to Thailand, when you’re ready.” And he starts scrolling through photographs of the most beautiful place I’ve ever seen, his phone screen becoming like a travel brochure with almost unrealistically spectacular vistas. Thailand looks like paradise, crystal blue waters and white sand, these huge rocks covered in lush vegetation jutting out of the sea and the sky awash with gold as the sun sets over a bay. “That was Railay Beach.” He narrates. “Jonas got food poisoning from a street vendor and was holed up in the hotel for two days so I just wandered around on my own.” Next he shows me photos of beach bars with thatch roofs, of intertwining roots of mangrove trees and of people selling shell necklaces under colourful tents. He’s taken a snap of a hand painted sign that says, in English: Beach This Way.

“You know, in a funny way, it kind of reminds me of the beach we stayed on.” I tell him. “Just something about the way those signs are painted, it’s like how it was at the Surf Shack.”

“Actually, I thought the same thing.” He says, and flicks to the next picture, which is him and a big, blonde German looking guy, presumably Jonas, standing in a little wooden boat holding a pair of oars. “Oh, this is when Jonas was better.” 

“I like your hair band.” I say, snickering. 

“Ha. Yeah, well, my hair was longer, I needed to keep it out of my eyes somehow.”

“Did you keep it?”

“The hairband? Why? Do you want it?”

“Oh yeah for sure, gimme. It’s so stylish.” 

He laughs and flips through more, and tells me about them all, Phuket, Ko Samui, Phi Phi islands, and even Bangkok for a few days before they flew home again. In all of the photos he’s got that golden tan that I remember he used to have, summer coloured skin lost now to the winter, and he looks so free and easy and so happy, riding on a motorbike, lying in a canoe, shirtless on the beach and stretched out doing a goofy pose on a sun lounger, I find myself mesmerised by this depiction of his life, like he’s only ever having good days, only ever in gorgeous places, smiling, happy, and I let myself get sucked into the fantasy that a life like this is possible for me too until he scrolls too far and I have to look at a picture of him kissing his girlfriend. My stomach drops instantly. 

“Oops. “ He says. “Went too far.”

I laugh awkwardly. “Oh, don’t worry, it’s okay.”

“That’s my girlfriend, Astrid.” 

“She looks pretty.” 

He nods in agreement. “She’s, yeah… she’s absolutely beautiful.” He quickly flips to another photo of her where she’s not locking lips with him and makes me look at her smiling face so that I can pretend I didn’t spend months cyber stalking her. I don’t really know what to say. “Yeah, wow, she’s something else.”

He stares down at the phone with this adoring expression on his face as though he’s the luckiest man alive and this feeling comes over me that I haven’t felt in a very long time. It’s the same way I felt when he rejected my misguided teenage attempts at seduction, and the same way I felt when I saw his face when he spoke to Michelle. It’s the feeling that I’m not what he wants. I’ll never be what he wants. The memory of it is too much and all over again I feel the stinging pain of knowing that I offered my love to someone who saw no worth in it. 

I start gathering my empty milkshake cup and the greasy papers onto a tray to dump them into a nearby bin. “We should get going now.” I tell him. “I’m sure everyone else is waiting for us at the bar, and they’ll be closing soon.”

“Right.” He says, pushing himself upright and swiping salt from his black jeans. “Thank you for the chips, by the way. I wasn’t even that hungry but those things are like crack to me.”

“No problem. And I appreciate you coming with me to get food.”

Prev // Next

[s10127470]

Sonic’s Latin American Adventure (Part 1)

Most of you are probably familiar with Sonic Adventure.

While not being Sonic’s first, it was his first big successful jump into the world of 3D.

And although it has aged in terms of graphic and especially voice-acting, it’s gameplay and story is still fondly remembered by many.

But one element that I want to take about are the levels.

Sonic Adventure has some of the most iconic levels in the Sonic franchise.

But what some of you may not know were the real-world inspirations behind them.

Ever since the Genesis days, Sonic has drawn influence from our world for reference.

Carnival Night Zone from Sonic the Hedgehog 3 was inspired by the local carnivals that Sonic Team saw in San Francisco.

Casino Night Zone from Sonic the Hedgehog 2 was inspired by Las Vegas, which Sonic Team took a trip to during its production.

And undoubtedly the most recognizable (and widely hated) level in the entire franchise Green Hill Zone from the game that start it all, was inspired by the rolling green hills and blue skies of California.

But when it was time to develop Sonic Adventure, Sonic Team wanted to go bigger than ever before and create more realistic worlds than before, thanks to the greater capabilities of the Sega Dreamcast.

One of the kind of new environments they wanted to do for Sonic Adventure were jungles with ancient ruins.

When creating levels for the games during the Genesis days, while Sonic Team did draw some influence from the real world, they mostly drew inspiration from movies and tv shows.

None of the team had ever seen any genuine ruins or jungles before, and tools like the Internet were way too primitive at the time for help.

So in order to make the environments of the game feel authentic as possible, Sonic Team took a nearly 3-month long trip through Central and South America.

They traveled to Mexico (specifically around the Yucatán Peninsula), Guatemala, and Peru.

And they not only took inspiration from the environments of those locations, but also the culture, history, and possibly even religion.

So today, I want to go into depth on the real-world inspirations for some of the levels and elements of Sonic Adventure.

So grab your adventure gear and some snacks, cause we’re going on a Latin American adventure!

Coming up first we have the very first level of the game, Emerald Coast.

When taking in the tropical beach environment, the seagrass thatched umbrellas scattered all over the place, forested cove and the resort at the beginning of the level, it’s safe to say that Emerald Coast was inspired by popular vacation spots such as Cancún and Tulum.

Next we come to the Mystic Ruins and Lost World.

These two locations are definitely the strongest examples of the Latin American influence.

They’re both clearly inspired by the ancient ruins of Mayan cities such as Chichen Itza, Tikal, Uaxactun, and San Gervasio, along with the jungles surrounding them.

Within the Lost World level, there’s a bit of a snake theme going on. From the torches, to the entrances, and there even being a giant stone snake moving around in the water section.

In Mayan culture, the snake was one of the most important animals, alongside the jaguar and the quetzal.

Snakes were seen as the vehicles by which celestial bodies, such as the sun and stars, crossed the heavens on. The shedding of their skin made them a symbol of rebirth and renewal.

And although there were many sculptures of snakes, most of them found on pyramids, they were often used to represent an important deity in Mayan mythology.

But I’m gonna touch on that a bit later.

The history of the Mystic Ruins is also pretty accurate to the history of most of the Mayan cities.

As most of you probably know, the Mystic Ruins was originally the home of the Knuckles Clan.

But after it was abandoned for thousands of years, it eventually became overgrown with jungle.

That was basically the same thing that happened to the real-life Mayan cities.

After they were abandoned, the surrounding wilderness essentially claimed them.

For example, this illustration shows what Tikal might’ve looked like during the time of the Mayans.

And this photograph shows what it was like back in 1881.

Next we move on the second level of the game, Windy Valley.

When taking in the mountainous landscape and the stone structures (plus their appearance), it’s pretty clear that this level is a loose adaptation of famous Inca city Machu Picchu.

As for the next two levels, finding their inspiration was admittedly a bit tricky when considering the locations Sonic Team traveled to.

But after a lot of research, I think I found them.

Icecap from Sonic 3 returns as the fourth level in the game.

Although it’s inspiration is a tad tricky, I believe that it was inspired from the various snowy-peaked mountains of the Andes.

And for the final level, we come to Red Mountain.

This was probably the hardest level for me for find any possible inspirations for.

Admittedly, for the longest time I thought it was inspired by the tepuis of Venezuela.

And at first glance, you can definitely see the comparison.

Unfortunately, the only place that Sonic Team traveled to was Peru.

But then I remembered that Red Mountain had a bit of canyon look as well.

And after doing some research, I've come to two possible inspirations for the level.

These inspirations are Colca Canyon and Rio Marañón, two canyons located which not only have similar appearances to some of the geological features of Red Mountain, but also just so happen to be located in Peru.

Next we have is Sand Hill, and funnily enough, the history of the level actually involves its inspiration.

During the trip, one of Sonic Team's stop was the city of Ica. During their visit, they discovered the sport of sandboarding. It amazed them so much that they decided to include it as a mini-game for Tails.

As you could already tell, the location was inspired by Ica itself.

Well that's all I can share for now!

I've already reached the 30 image limit, so I can't show any more photos for this post.

So this is gonna be a two-parter. Along with that, it's gonna be much shorter than this one since I'll be covering that the last bit of info I wanted to share.

So stay-in tune for the second and final part of Sonic's Latin American Adventure!

[larstoomars]

i have such bittersweet feelings about my hometown. So much of my family, life, and memories are here, i love each of them deeply. my city is big, it sure isn’t small, 12th biggest city in my state. i remember jumping off my play house as a child trying to fly and walking down a broken sidewalk with my friends while hearing sirens and gunshots. i loved to camp, fish, and swim while nearly drowning again and again and eating cold Koegels. Walking around late at night but never alone and location tracking on. Always having a roof over my head but always being afraid of it being taken away from me, by weather, law, nature, or robbery. i finally graduated in 2020 with terrible ending, not even a year later my high school diploma is destroyed by water damage. i have friends everywhere but also if things get rough, i can just as easily start over again here bc the city is big enough for multiple people. it’s not slow and boring like the country and it’s not as bustling with citizens walking, biking, or riding to where they need to get in a big city. it’s the same boring places but somehow the people around me find the most interesting events and things to do. we had the biggest pride our city had seen in june and yet everyday i hear homo and transphobia.

it takes, on average, four generations to get out poverty in the united states, in 2016 the percent was still rising at 45%, now its at 35% but i don’t have hope for it to keep sliding down. two cities in my state are on the list for top 10 poorest cities in the united states.

in 2014 the michigan governor changed my cities water source, killing 12 people. our state government said they would fix the lead pipes, change them out by 2020 in 2017. the programs giving residents bottled water who were affected have stopped at the beginning of 2023. Residents still do not have clean water. technically Flint is under the amount of lead allowed in water federally and state-wise sitting at 9 parts per billion (below requirement of 15 ppb (personally i think it should be zero)) but, consider the following! Water pipes and lines have continuously burst over and over and over again, this has been happening of years, multiple times a year. forcing flint residents unable to drink water, clean, do laundry, be hygienic for days or weeks depending on where or how long the water break is.

my mom tells me things were getting bad in Flint when we moved away when i was 6/7. we moved to New Mexico and only stayed for a year before moving back home, i have mixed feeling about that place too. my best friend past away that year due to a shooting accident with immediate family. details are unimportant but right around then is when family members of my own started to pass away.

while in high school two teachers also passed. one had a heart attack and didn’t come to work so another teacher went to his home to check on him during the school day. everyone found out at the same time at he died, i wasn’t close to him. the other, she had muscular dystrophy, she was in an electric wheelchair and had a working dog, she also worked at the school. she had uterine surgery but there were complications and she didn’t make it.

after a slew of bad news this year, this september, my graduating class lost one of our alumni. his name was Johnny and he had just turned 21. i didn’t actually get to graduate with him because of covid, our ceremony was broken up into four parts in the same day, so i only graduated with a fourth of the 2020 class. i don’t look at high school fondly but, johnny was kind, funny, and smart. he worked so hard to make Flint a better place and prove all sorts of people wrong. He died defending his girlfriend, so many went to his funeral and brought our graduating class back together. to what cost though? his friends and family lost his life, he lost his life. he loved to fish, his favorite color was yellow, his lucky number was 44.

His murder was killed by another man. a couple days after another young man shot and killed at 18 years old. GM strikers were ran over in a hit and run. My dads truck was stolen right out of his driveway. A KFC was ran into by a police officer. A staff member in Flint schools had a ceramic chair thrown at their head and sent to the hospital. Ethan Crumbley, a teenager who killed four in a school shooting may be sentenced to life without parole from Oxford.

so much of my life is here, my memories, my family, biological or not. i always thought i’d move away from here. sometimes i still think i might. im not sure. i don’t know what to do to feel safe. i don’t think there is a safe place for any of us. was there ever?

[denimbex1986]

'The one thing you need to know about Christopher Nolan’s “Oppenheimer” is that it moves incredibly fast and covers a lot of ground. For most of its three-hour runtime, the atomic bomb epic can feel as if you’re reading a dense biography about J. Robert Oppenheimer at three times the normal speed. With so many scientist characters orbiting Oppenheimer at light speed, you’d be forgiven for feeling a little lost at times.

To help watch “Oppenheimer” with a bit more clarity, it’s important to know the movie takes place during three time periods. One timeline is set in 1954 as the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission (AEC) holds a security hearing to investigate whether or not Oppenheimer (Cillian Murphy) is a Soviet spy. The hearing prompts the film to flash back to the events of Oppenheimer’s life, from his university days to his role in creating the atomic bomb. These portions of the film, shot in color, make up the bulk of “Oppenheimer’s” three-hour runtime.

A third storyline is shot in black and white and takes place in 1959 as Lewis Strauss (Robert Downey Jr.), the former chairman of the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission, is seeking to become U.S. Secretary of Commerce under President Dwight D. Eisenhower. Strauss finds himself at the center of his own U.S. Senate confirmation hearing, which threatens to expose his involvement in the events of the 1954 timeline.

“Oppenheimer” creates its own kind of fission by constantly jumping between these time periods, as characters and events twist depending on the perspective. Whether you want to go into “Oppenheimer” with a bit more knowledge or you’ve just seen it and are wondering who everybody was (it can be hard to keep track given the film’s relentless pace), below is your guide to the film’s cast and the real historical figures they play.

Cillian Murphy as J. Robert Oppenheimer

Cillian Murphy stars as theoretical physicist J Robert Oppenheimer, known as the “father of the atomic bomb.” Oppenheimer was named the director of the Manhattan Project’s Los Alamos Laboratory in New Mexico. It’s here where Oppenheimer and his team developed the first atomic bomb for World War II. The bomb was detonated on July 16, 1945 in what is referred to as the Trinity test, with Oppenheimer present during the demonstration.

For Murphy, “Oppenheimer” marks his first time leading a Nolan movie in over 20 years. The two worked together on five previous features: Three Batman films, “Inception” and “Dunkirk.” Murphy revealed last year that in prepping to play Oppenheimer he skipped over all the mechanics of what makes an atom bomb and instead focused on the man himself.

“[I prepped by doing] an awful lot of reading,” Murphy recently told The Guardian. “I’m interested in the man and what [inventing the atomic bomb] does to the individual. The mechanics of it, that’s not really for me — I don’t have the intellectual capability to understand them, but these contradictory characters are fascinating.”

Emily Blunt as Katherine "Kitty" Oppenheimer

Emily Blunt stars as Katherine “Kitty” Oppenheimer, who married J Robert Oppenheimer in 1940. Born in Germany, Kitty was a botanist and biologist whose early life was associated with the Communist party after she became the common-law wife of party member Joseph Dallet Jr. She met Oppenheimer in 1939 at the California Institute of Technology, where he was a part time physics teacher and she was assisting physicist Charles Lauritsen. They began an affair while she was still married to medical doctor Richard Stewart Harrison. Kitty left Harrison and married Oppenheimer in November 1940 after she became pregnant with their first child, Peter. The couple moved to Los Alamos in March 1943 so that Oppenheimer could work full time on his Manhattan Project duties. They had their second child there. The isolation of living in Los Alamos contributed to Kitty’s alcoholism.

Matt Damon as Leslie Groves

Matt Damon plays Leslie Groves, who was the director of the Manhattan Project. The group’s mission was to develop the first atomic bomb during World War II. Groves had previously overseen the construction of the Pentagon while serving as an officer in the United States Army Corps of Engineers. As director of the Manhattan Project, Groves approved Los Alamos, New Mexico as one of several testing sites for the development of the atomic bomb. He personally recruited Oppenheimer to lead the charge at Los Alamos, a divisive choice at the time as Oppenheimer lacked a Nobel Prize and administrative leadership experience. Groves was on site for the detonation of the first atomic bomb on July 16, 1945.

Robert Downey Jr. as Lewis Strauss

Robert Downey Jr. plays Lewis Strauss, who served two terms on the U.S. Atomic Energy Commission (AEC). Strauss was the organization’s chairman during his second term. He became an enemy of Oppenheimer’s due to the AEC’s controversial hearings in April 1954 that led to Oppenheimer’s security clearance being revoked. The hearings came as a result of Strauss becoming convinced that Oppenheimer was a Soviet spy. Strauss became convinced of the fact after Oppenheimer’s claim that the Soviets were four years behind the U.S. in nuclear weapons development got challenged. Strauss eventually asked FBI director J. Edgar Hoover to run surveillance on Oppenheimer, and the organization ran a wiretapping of Oppenheimer’s phones. Illegally-obtained conversations Oppenheimer had over the phone with lawyers and more were used by Strauss to stack the hearing’s odds against Oppenheimer.

Florence Pugh as Jean Tatlock

Florence Pugh stars as Jean Tatlock, who had a relationship with Oppenheimer before and during his marriage to Katherine “Kitty” Oppenheimer. The two met at the University of California, Berkeley, where Tatlock was a graduate student and Oppenheimer was a physics professor. Tatlock was a member of the American Communist Party. The film shows the two first meeting at a members gathering that Oppenheimer is brought to by his brother, Frank, who also had ties to the American Community Party. Tatlock’s relationship with Oppenheimer was cited during Lewis Strauss’ AEC hearing because of her Communist ties. Tatlock died by suicide at the age of 29 after struggling with clinical depression.

Josh Hartnett as Ernest Lawrence

Ernest Lawrence, played by Josh Hartnett, was a nuclear physicist from Canton, South Dakota who was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1939 for his invention of the cyclotron, a particle accelerator that was the first cyclical machine of its kind. When audiences first meet Lawrence in the film, he’s in the process of building that machine at the University of California, Berkeley. It’s here where Lawrence and Oppenheimer became close friends. Lawrence is credited with recommending to Leslie Groves that Oppenheimer be named the director of the Manhattan Project’s Los Alamos research site. Lawrence went on to assist the Manhattan project with uranium-isotope separation.

Casey Affleck as Boris Pash

Boris Pash, played by “Manchester by the Sea” Oscar winner Casey Affleck, was a military intelligence officer in the United States Army. During World War II, Pash was tasked with investigating potential Soviet spy activity within the University of California, Berkley’s radiation laboratory. Oppenheimer was included among those interrogated by Pash, who determined that Oppenheimer was not a Soviet spy but may be connected with the Communist party given his previous relationships (see Jean Tatlock above). Pash suggested Oppenheimer be accompanied by counter-intelligence agents while on site in Los Alamos.

Rami Malek as David Hill

David L. Hill was an associate experimental physicist at the University of Chicago’s Met Lab during the Manhattan Project. Acording to the Atomic Heritage Foundation: “On December 2, 1942, he was one of the 49 scientists who witnessed the world’s first nuclear reactor to go critical.” Hill was also one of 70 scientists and workers to sign the Szilard Petition, a document written by Leo Szilard petitioning President Truman to avoid dropping the atomic bombs on Japan. In the film, Hill pops up in the 1959 timeline to disrupt Lewis Strauss’ bid for U.S. Secretary of Commerce by revealing the devious tactics Strauss used during the AEC hearing that stripped Oppenheimer of his security clearance.

Kenneth Branagh as Niels Bohr

Niels Bohr, played by Christopher Nolan regular Kenneth Branagh, was a physicist from Copenhagen, Denmark who won the Nobel Peace Prize in Physics in 1922 for his work on quantum theory and atomic structure. He is famous for developing the Bohr model of the atom. Whereas the U.S. had the Manhattan Project to develop nuclear weapons, Britain had the Tube Alloys. Bohr was a member of this group and made several visits to the Manhattan Project’s Los Alamos site during the atomic bomb’s design process. He helped Oppenheimer with work on modulated neutron initiators. In the film, Bohr is one of Oppenheimer’s physicist heroes and he attends one of Bohr’s lectures in college.

Benny Safdie as Edward Teller

“Uncut Gems” and “Good Times” co-director Benny Safdie stars as Edward Teller, a theoretical physicist from Budapest who is known as the “father of the hydrogen bomb.” He was included in Oppenheimer’s 1942 summer planning seminar for the Manhattan Project at the University of California, Berkeley, and he moved to the Manahattan Project’s Los Alamos site in 1943 and joined the Theoretical Division, which was overseen by Hans Bethe (played by Gustaf Skarsgård in the movie). As part of the Manhattan Project, Oppenheimer tasked Teller with researching uranium hydride and the mathematics behind a nuclear weapon implosion. He was one of the few scientists on location to watch the detonation of the first atomic bomb during the Trinity test.

Gary Oldman as President Truman

Harry S. Truman, the 33rd president of the United States, is played in “Oppenheimer” by Oscar winner Gary Oldman, whom Nolan worked with on the “Dark Knight” trilogy. The Manhattan Project started in 1942 under Franklin D. Roosevelt’s presidency. Truman served as his vice president and was notoriously not told about the Manhattan Project until he became president himself. As president, Truman authorized the first and only use of nuclear weapons in war against Hiroshima and Nagasaki in Japan. The bombs were dropped on August 6 and August 9, 1945. In the film, Truman assures Oppenheimer that the world will only see the president as a villain of history for dropping the bombs and not their maker himself.

David Krumholtz as Isidor Isaac Rabi

“Harold & Kumar” and “The Santa Clause” actor David Krumholtz stars as Isidor Isaac Rabi, an American physicist who won the 1944 Nobel Prize in Physics for his discovery of nuclear magnetic resonance. His work on radar at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology’s Radiation Laboratory led him to be a consultant on the Manhattan Project. Rabi was called to testify at the AEC security hearing in 1954 and strongly defended Oppenheimer. In the film, Rabi is heard passionately telling the AEC board that Oppenheimer loved and defended his country through his actions in the Manhattan Project.

Matthew Modine as Vannevar Bush

“Stranger Things” star Matthew Modine reunites with Christopher Nolan after “The Dark Knight Rises” to play Vannevar Bush in “Oppenheimer.” Bush was an American engineer who headed the U.S. Office of Scientific Research and Development during World War II. He helped sell the U.S. government on creating the Manhattan Project. Later during World War II, he joined the Interim Committee that advised president Harry S. Truman on nuclear weapons. Bush was present at the Trinity test and watched the detonation of the first atomic bomb.

David Dastmalchian as William L. Borden

Nolan regular David Dastmalchian plays William L. Borden, who served as the executive director of the United States Congress Joint Committee on Atomic Energy from 1949 to 1953. He is best known for writing a letter to FBI director J. Edgar Hoover that accused Oppenheimer of being a Soviet spy, which then led to the Atomic Energy Commission’s security hearing in 1954. The film positions Borden as a puppet of Lewis Strauss, as Strauss wanted to keep his hands dry in Oppenheimer’s public downfall. Borden went on to testify against Oppenheimer during the hearings.

Michael Angarano as Robert Serber

Michael Angarano stars as Robert Serber, an American physicist who contributed to the Manhattan Project. He previously had worked for Oppenheimer at the University of California, Berkeley and the California Institute of Technology before he was recruited to join the Manhattan Project in 1941. Serber was also involved with a section of the Manhattan Project known as Project Alberta, which aided in the delivery of nuclear weapons during the atomic bombings of Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

Jack Quaid as Richard Feynman

“The Boys” star Jack Quaid plays Richard Feynman, a theoretical physicist from New York City who shared the 1965 Nobel Prize in Physics with Julian Schwinger and Shin’ichirō Tomonaga for work on quantum physics. Feynman joined the Manhattan Project’s Los Alamos operation and was made group leader of Hans Bethe’s Theoretical Division, where he developed the Bethe–Feynman formula for calculating the yield of a fission bomb.

Josh Peck as Kenneth Bainbridge

Former “Drake and Josh” Nickelodeon star Josh Peck plays Kenneth Bainbridge, an American physicist known for his work on cyclotron research at Harvard University. Oppenheimer appointed him the director of the Trinity test. The demonstration was the first time an atomic bomb was detonated and took place July 16, 1945. In the film, it is Bainbridge who acts on Oppenheimer’s order to press the button to detonate the bomb. He allegedly told Oppenheimer after the atomic bomb’s first detonation, “Now we are all sons of bitches.” After witnessing the Trinity test, Bainbridge turned against the testing of nuclear weapons.

Olivia Thirlby as Lilli Hornig

Olivia Thirlby, best known for performances in “Juno” and “Dredd 3D,” stars as Lilli Hornig, a feminist activist and scientist who joined the Manhattan Project efforts. Lilli and her husband, chemist and explosives expert Bruce Hornig, moved to Los Alamos together to work for Oppenheimer. She became a staff scientist for the Manhattan Project.

Dane DeHaan as Kenneth Nichols

Dane DeHaan stars as Kenneth Nichols, a United States Army office from Cleveland, Ohio who worked on the Manhattan Project as a civil engineer. He later oversaw the production of plutonium as the head of the Manhattan Engineer District. Nichols eventually joined the Atomic Energy Commission in 1953 as a general manager and was involved in the security hearing against Oppenheimer. He believed Oppenheimer was a Communist and ruled in favor of stripping Oppenheimer of his AEC security clearance. The film positions Nichols as a mole who encouraged William L. Borden to report Oppenheimer’s alleged Soviet ties to the FBI.

Jason Clarke as Roger Robb

Jason Clarke plays Roger Robb, a United States circuit judge who joined the Atomic Energy Commission as special counsel during the security hearing against Oppenheimer in 1954. The hearing lasted four weeks as Robb and a panel of AEC members interrogated Oppenheimer on the grounds that he was a Soviet spy. Robb was convinced Oppenheimer was a traitor and used dramatic interrogation methods during the hearing to make Oppenheimer appear as guilty as possible. Robb was known for his ruthless tactics. The board voted to strip Oppenheimer of his security clearance.

James D'Arcy as Patrick Blackett

“Cloud Atlas” star James D’Arcy plays Patrick Blackett, an experimental physicist who won the 1948 Nobel Prize in Physics. He is notable in the science community for being the first person to prove that radioactivity can lead to the nuclear transmutation of one chemical element to another. Oppenheimer was one of his most notable students. Early in the film, it’s implied that Blackett was a harsh teacher who did not favor Oppenheimer. He tells Oppenheimer to stay behind while the class attends a lecture by Niels Bohr. A mentally unstable Oppenheimer injects cyanide into an apple on Blackett’s desk. Oppenheimer ultimately gets rid of the apple before Blackett can eat it.

Tony Goldwyn as Gordon Gray

Tony Goldwyn goes from playing the president on ABC’s “Scandal” to starring as Gordon Gray in “Oppenheimer.” Gray was an American attorney and national security government official during Harry Truman and Dwight Eisenhower’s presidential administrations. He was one of the leading members on the AEC committee during the security hearing against Oppenheimer. The film implies that Gray was against Oppenheimer from the start. Convinced Oppenheimer was a Soviet spy, Gray worked with Roger Robb to ensure the outcome of the AEC hearing was not in Oppenheimer’s favor.

Tom Conti as Albert Einstein

Albert Einstein won the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics and is regarded as the most influential theoretical physicist in history. He pops up throughout “Oppenheimer” as he was friendly with the title character. In real life, Einstein did not work on the Manhattan Project. However, he did join forces with colleagues such as Leó Szilárd, Edward Teller and Eugene Wigner to worn the U.S. government that Germany would win an atomic bomb race if the U.S. did not start getting plans together to create such a weapon. The group wrote a letter to President Roosevelt, which is credited with pushing the U.S. towards the creation of the Manhattan Project.

Alex Wolff as Luis Walter Alvarez

“Hereditary” star Alex Wolff plays Luis Walter Alvarez, who won the 1968 Nobel Prize in Physics for his work on particle physics used in the hydrogen bubble chamber. He was a friend and close colleague of Ernest Lawrence (Josh Hartnett, see above) in the research labs at the University of California, Berkeley. It’s here where Lawrence created the cyclotron, which Alvarez used to produce and study tritium. In the film, Alvarez is with Lawrence and Oppenheimer when they get the news that an atom has been split open for the first time. In real life, Alvarez traveled to Los Alamos and worked on the Manhattan Project.

Dylan Arnold as Frank Oppenheimer

Dylan Arnold stars as Oppenheimer’s brother, Frank. A particle physicist in his own right, Frank conducted research on behalf of the Manhattan Project and was called to Los Alamos by his brother to help prepare the layout and designs for the Trinity test. Frank is most important to Oppenheimer’s story because he was a member of the American Communist Party and invited his brother to attend party gatherings before the Manhattan Project was founded. Oppenheimer’s ties to his brother and more party members put him under scrutiny during the AEC security hearing.

Jefferson Hall as Haakon Chevalier

Haakon Chevalier, played by “Game of Thrones” actor Jefferson Hall, was a French professor at the University of California, Berkeley who became friends with Oppenheimer in 1937. In the film, Oppenheimer befriends Chevalier at a Communist party. The two went on to create the university’s teachers’ union, which angered some of Oppenheimer’s scientist colleagues as the union threw benefits in support of leftist causes. Their friendship was one of the defining parts of the AEC security hearing, as Chevalier told Oppenheimer about Soviet attempts to infiltrate the Manhattan Project. Oppenheimer belatedly reported the information as to protect Chevalier’s identity, which the AEC hearing committee used in favor of stripping Oppenheimer of his security clearance.

Matthias Schweighöfer as Werner Heisenberg

Matthias Schweighöfer, best known for his role in Zack Snyder’s “Army of the Dead” franchise, appears briefly as Werner Heisenberg, the German theoretical physicist who won the 1932 Nobel Prize in Physics for the creation of quantum mechanics. Oppenheimer idolizes Heisenberg in the film and even has a brief visit with him before World War II begins. Heisenberg was not involved in the Manhattan Project and instead worked on Germany’s nuclear weapons program during the war. Knowing how brilliant Heisenberg was and how his genius could aid in Germany’s creation of atomic weapons is part of the reason Oppenheimer needed to move so quickly with the Manhattan Project in Los Alamos.'

[perfectarmony]

Any thoughts on when Arman says "Then you can get back to your family and forget about all of this" when he and Thony are talking about getting Kamdar? Kind of reminds me of Mexico when he said that he hoped she didn't want to forget everything about Vegas. He almost seems resigned or perhaps thinking/fearing that she would be moving on (without him?) after this is all over.

As always, the following is the way I see and feel things - you're free to take and interpret what you see on screen the way you want 😏

Okaaaay.

I can definitely see that parallel with 1x08/Mexico, and can agree with you on your interpretation! 👀

However, I didn't exactly see it the same way, and I only realized the ''forget/not everything'' part a little while after the episode.

For some reason, my mind immediately focused on Arman's story and linked that scene to 1x07 and to their talk before Marco came by at La Habana.

I'll (try to) explain why in a second - but I was litteraly hit by the wave of pain (hidden) behind the ''YOU can go back to your family and (YOU) can forget about all of this''

I came by prepared this time! so you can rely on these gifs/parallels if I get too messy along the way (and I'm still not sure I'll make much sense but this is what you signed up for 👀)

Okay this isn't the most flawless parallel, but look at the paaaaaaaain.

Alright, you might already see where I'm going?

So, flashback to S1E07 - and Arman's need to get away from Hayak, start his own life and legacy without constantly being in the shadows - simply, to find some light and try to step away from the criminal life.

Back then, he had hopes with the gun deal and the money it would bring him. He saw an ''opportunity to finally do something good'' and seized it.

No, but just scroll back up and look at the soft smile he had when he told Thony that he had found a way out, to be better, to finally have a future that's his to build. (and then Marco and Nadia ruined his mood 🤧)

Earlier in that episode, Thony told him her husband was back in town - and without the rest of the story, he assumed that she would have her family back once Luca would be safe. So he let her go, because he thought he wouldn't need to protect her from Hayak by keeping her close if he'd leave, but also because he thought he had done the part she needed him for - and therefore wouldn't need him anymore.

Flashforward to S02E08 - The only thing Arman ever wanted was to be free. And right now, I don't think Arman sees a future / a way out for himself. He has lost everything, can't make plans with Kamdar and the FBI on his back - and let's not forget that he doesn't trust Garrett who could once again put him behind bars once this is over. And of course, he just had to kill an innocent woman - and If Garrett finds out that he's the one who pulled the trigger and killed Maya - for all he knows, he's dead at worse and in jail at best.

So this is why I think he doesn't include himself here and only focuses on her.

I already said it in my post yesterday, so I won't go too deep into it - but he is feeling guilty for dragging her down with him. When the season started, it was about him - he needed to get out of prison, he needed to get out from under Kamdar. He still always put her first whenever she was in need - but since Thony made it clear they were in this together in 2x05, and they got arrested by Garrett, I feel like he is now mostly only focused on finding a way out for her.

And then Thony corrects him and tells him ''we have to be done with [Kamdar]'' - meaning we (both) need this, we (both) need to heal, and get our lives back. For a split second I think it gives him hope, makes him feel like there could be an after for him too - but it still feels bitter and painful because he doesn't (entirely) believe it. And at the same time, it reminds him that right now, they have no other choice but to make sacrifices and push through together. Because she chose his well-being over hers, he can't offer her a way out until they reach the end of the tunnel.

I could go on, but I would be going in circles, so I'll stop here 😅

👀👀👀👀

An extra no one asked for...

When you think about it - both episodes had a couple other parallels:

- Arman romancing and then (using) Nadia to convince Noah to agree on the deal / Him ''reconciling'' with her to get the key card - and in both cases, it was to help his and Thony's family

- Nadia confronting Arman about his feelings for Thony (you have feelings for her / do you love her?)

- This one is a bit tricky because Marco and JD don't come from the same place of concern but there are similities so I'm still throwing it out there 🤷🏻‍♀️ Marco / JD worrying about the safety of their family because of her association to the criminal world - and taking over - - - JD not allowing Jaz to see Thony / Marco taking the money to try to find a way to keep Arman away from Luca (yes, I'm stretching it a bit) . A better parallel would be 1x10 when Marco asked Thony why she was protecting Arman instead of her family, but still.

- And of course, Fiona taking Thony's defense in front of Marco / JD - ''do you think everything's been easy for her? Everything she's done, she's done for your son'' / ''she's trying her best, she's a good mother''

I'm sure there are more, but this is already way too long 👀

I hope I answered your question anon! ❤️

[cherry01]

Green Eyes | H.S

First post. Please be gentle

Warnings: None

You sat that watching your best friend flirt with his ex girlfriend, Kendall! She was absolutely gorgeous, perfect for him! Tall, skinny, beautiful, a super model … the kind of girl he usually dates. She got him. She understood the fame and fans that followed him. She understood how difficult it is to be in a relationship when you’re a superstar!

After his recent breakup, he needed his friends. And you were there for him. One call and you were on the next flight to Guadalajara, Mexico.

You danced at the concert, laughed at his jokes, hung out after concerts and cried together over your exes while eating your favourite ice cream- mint choco chip !

But… there were certain things you could not give him! You could, I mean , of course…. But for him, you were his BEST FRIEND.

==============

Can I buy you a drink?

A voice from behind broke your chain of thought.

You turn around to see a very handsome man smiling back at you.

I would like that, thank you!

What would you like to drink?

A Vodka and watermelon punch, please

After he asked the bartender to get you your drink he pulled the bar stool and sat next to you.

I’m Luke! Nice to meet you.

I’m Y/N. Nice to meet you too.

You look incredible Y/N… you look beautiful… what’s a pretty girl like you doing sitting alone at a bar?

To be honest you did look pretty tonight. You wore a black dress that accentuated all your curves.

I am here with my friends. But they’re all busy with their boyfriends and girlfriends….

Thank you, sir! He said to the bartender as he brought my drink. Here you go mi lady. Your Vodka and watermelon punch. You took a sip and turned around to glance over your friends… they were all busy dancing and making out….

Although, you did notice a pair of green eyes glaring at me. He looked so handsome tonight, you could cry!!!!

You waved and smiled at your bestie. He just clenched his jaw tight and fake smiled at you.

Hello!!! Earth to Y/N

Sorry sorry!! I’m here.

You talked. Luke was nice. Handsome and his blue eyes were beautiful, not like the green ones you were mesmerised by, but yes beautiful. As time passed you knew you were drunk because you dragged Luke to the dance floor as soon as Cinema started playing! You moved your hips to the sexy tune, bare foot, lost in yourself. You could see Luke checking you out. He bit his lower lip and pulled you closer grabbing your hips.

Foreheads pressed together, you realised that Luke’s lips were really close to yours. He nudged your head to the side, brought his lips near your ear and whispered, Do you wanna go some place quiet, baby?

“Baby you’re cinemaaaaaa”

That raspy voice, the one that is your favourite, brought you out of your trance. You smiled and slightly pushed Luke back.

Sorry! I didn’t mean to lead you on. I don’t do hook ups!

Luke was sweet! He gave you soft little kiss on the cheek, said it wasn’t a problem and that he enjoyed the conversations you two had.

Walking back towards the bar after saying bye to Luke, you notice your bestie sitting there, just staring at you. Did he look angry? Maybe? Why? Who knows.

Hi Haz!

Hmmm

Wassup?

You tell me?

All good, baby!

Baby??? Why did I call him baby? Ohhh my drunk ass!

Who was he?

This guy I met! Why?

Where did he go?

I told him I don’t do hook ups … sooooo he went away!

What was his name?

Luke!

Luke??? It’s a shit name anyway! Luke!!!! He laughed

Please, Harry! He was sweet. What is it to you anyway??? Why aren’t you with Kendall?

Because, I’m here with you now!

Why?

Why?? Can I not?

You stayed quiet.

From your peripheral vision you could see Harry looking at you.

Hey! Look at me

Damn those eyes!

Yea?

Why don’t you date? I mean, it’s been 6 months since you broke up with Michael! Move on, love!

You don’t know how many Vodka and Watermelon Punch were in you now but you knew you fucked up when “Looking for someone like you” blurted out of your mouth

Meeee?? He smirked

Yeah… I mean… yeah… you’re sweet, kind, loveable…

….and hot!

You rolled your eyes, smirked and said… yeah that too. Narcissist!

He laughed and you shyly looked down, your feet suddenly becoming very interesting.

Harry! I can’t. I just can’t kiss someone without feeling anything for them. I can’t sleep with them without knowing them. I don’t get one night stands. I don’t know what’s wrong with me? I know, I’m silly and stupid but…

Hey hey hey… he interrupted you, getting up from his seat, both his arms on your shoulder, a frown on his face! Don’t ever say that. YOU are not stupid. You are perfect and there is absolutely nothing wrong with you. Alright? I find this quality very endearing. It’s cute. He smiled and kissed your forehead. I’ll look for guy like me for you, he teased.

You smiled and said, That right there, is not possible. You’re the best.

Both of you laughed and then he stopped, looked straight into your eyes, and teasingly asked, do you want to be with me?

Always!

Who said that? Damn you vodka

He sat there looking at you emotionless. Eyes flicking between your hooded ones.

Can I have two beers please? Bottle!

He thanked the bartender and asked you take your stuff.

You silently stumbled over to the booth where your friends sat, said bye and quietly followed Harry back to his car.

==============

Guilt. Fear. Confusion.

That’s all you felt as you sat in the car watching out your window as Harry drove silently.

I’m sorry. You said so quietly.I didn’t mean to.. I don’t know what I said… why I said…

The car stopped outside a park. You got out and looked towards Harry. He held both the beers in his hands and walked towards the entrance to the park. He turned around to see you standing near the car, so he flicked his head towards the park and said , C’mon …

==============

Silence.

That’s all that you heard. Occasional sounds of you or Harry gulping down the beer. But that’s it. You sat across each other, facing each other, both your backs up against trees.

Since when…

Hmmm?….

Since when have you wanted to be with me?

I don’t remember.

Look Harry. I’m sorry. Forget whatever I said.

There’s is nothing wrong in what you said. You just took me by surprise.

Why?? We flirt all the time

No Y/N! That wasn’t flirting. That was the truth. You meant it.

Does it matter?

It does.

So you’re gonna run away now?

What?

You’re gonna run away now, aren’t ya ?

Why would I do that?

Coz’ you’re a boy. Whenever I have told a guy that I have feelings for them, they run away….

So you do like me?

You say nothing.

Harry sighs, gets up and comes over to sit next to you.

Babe? We talk about everything. We talk all the time. There is nothing you don’t know about me and It hurts to know that I don’t know everything about you.

Tell me what you feel. He rasped in your ear.

You turned to face him, looked straight into the most beautiful eyes. All you wanted was for him to hold you in his green gaze. Sitting in the park I knew that his eyes were a forest of green, paved with a path to forever.

I like you. Always have. Always will. You whispered

Y/N, …

No. Let me please.

Go on, sweetheart!

All the alcohol finally giving you the courage to open up.

12 years ago, when I met for the first time, I never in a million years imagined being friends with you. You were just a 16 old boy travelling with your best mates all set to live your dream. I was just a fan, but you didn’t see me as a fan, but as a friend. All of you did. You, Niall, Liam, Louis and Zayn. I was so impressed by how much you all were level headed and grounded. You are my longest celebrity crush you know, you laughed.

He smiled.

But after getting to know you personally 4 years ago, I became a fan of you. YOU. Harry. Just Harry. You’ve always made me feel seen. Beautiful. Important. You’ve always encouraged me. Motivated me. You’ve held me up, instead of pulling me down. I didn’t realise when and how all this turned into something more than friendship.

Maybe when you got together with Olivia. I didn’t understand why I was heartbroken. We weren’t dating. Then why did it feel like someone took a piece of me away from me.

I don’t fit. I don’t fit in your world. I’m not tall and skinny. I’m not a model or a singer or an actor. I have a regular job and I don’t fit in your glamorous world. I know there is nothing that can happen between us. Because I’m not your type.

Harry looked at you with sadness in his eyes. Like you had hurt him. Real bad. He shook his head unable to grasp everything you said.

I can’t believe you feel that way! He finally said

I do! I’m sorry. But I do.

Did I ever make you feel this way? Did I make you feel like you don’t “fit” in my world?

Nooooo. Absolutely not, Harry!

I… I just feel this way. It’s my stupid brain that’s working double time I guess… you tried hard to make a joke but Harry just didn’t smile at all.

There’s a reason I don’t drink , you know?

I ruined your night, didn’t I? You would have been with Kendall, railing her to death

Hmmm hmmm vodka and beer!! Get in Y/N ! Well done

Harry looked at you wide eyed, astonished at your choice of words.

I want to kiss you. I want to kiss you so baaaaaaaaad!!!!!! Harryyyyyyy !!!!

Ohh hooo…. Someone turn this switch off.

Sometimes all I want to do is straddle you and make out with you like horny teenagers. You drive me crazy Haaaaarrry!!!!

Your voice increasing with every word.

Harry looked at you dumbfounded.

Do you feel better telling me all this? Life is too short to not tell someone you like them, babe!

Hmmm. But life is too fucked up to tell someone you love them.

Fuck!!!

As soon as you got up after indirectly confessing you loved your BEST FRIEND, Harry knew you too well to know what you were going to do next.

RUN!!!!

And that is what you did.

You ran. Only to be pulled back by 2 strong arms and engulfed in a tight hug.

Y/N… Harry sighs

I’m sorry Harry!

Shhh…listen to me …

He gently held both your cheeks in his hands and made you look at him. His thumb swiped the tear that left your tired eyes while he kissed your forehead…

You, darling, are my friend, my best friend, my refuge. You don’t fit in my world. But you fit with me. When I need to get away from the fame and drama, I come to you. Alright? You mean so much to me than any of those singers, models or actresses. I love you. Maybe not the way you love me. But I do love you.

Ouch!

I went through a very weird break up Y/N. I just need time.

Oh no! Please I’m not asking for anything Har….

I know. I know you aren’t. But honestly I’m just tired now. I want someone permanent now. And trust me when I say, you are that someone who I would want to be with… but not right now.

As you stared at him in awe, unable to fathom anything that came out of those lips, you realised how close you two were standing.

Harry flicked his eyes from yours to your lips very quickly.

You whispered very very quietly , …..Harry!!!

Gently he brushed your lips with his and whispered back, will you wait for me?

As a tear drop fell between you, you replied…

Always!

[nfumbewalk]

Well, I Never!

My Sour Jars are back at my store for $5. Tell me what you need and I'll work my jar for you!

Well guess what...I lost a follower. I only notice because I don't have many yet. I know who it was & probably why. Lolz! The remark made by my muerto, Rodolfo, about his opinion on the term "Latinx." It's not my opinion! I don't give a fuck. Rodolfo just basically said it was "fuckin dope" as in stupid. He prefers Hispanic, Latino or even Mexican. His favorite freaking colors are of the Mexico flag! Haha. I said he is old school but forgot to mention he was also military - Army. That makes a man very different, in my experience.

My husband, Tom, was an Army paratrooper in the 82nd Airborne. Yeah - not a leg. Makes a man an entirely different breed. I'm not dismissing women, but I only speak of what I know. I've had close guy friends who went to the first Iraq war. It's something you just don't ask about. Anyway...why are "dark" dudes such pussies? Jesus, that's all I've encountered. Dated ONE & he was 12 years older than me. Such a whiny little bitch, and he was military too! Well, he was Navy - if that counts. Lol! Joking! Just funning. Guess he left his balls on a ship in Spain. Roflmao! 😂 Sorry, there's tons of joking between branches of the military. It's great.

Am I always this way? Yep, get used to it or move on. Not many people like me or accept me because I *upset* them. Waa! Lol. Actually, I'm very demure and polite in real time situations. I just let all my demons out online. I ended up like most women in my family - no lady friends but I sure love dudes! They love me too. I love cars, especially old ones & I can talk about them. I like guy stuff. I grew up around lots of men & cars. Heh. I'm just an Oregon bumpkin. Not! Unfortunately, my hometown is PDX. Ugh!! Portland is a shit hole & even though my dad died last year, I'm so glad he doesn't live in that horrible place anymore. His ashes are here in Eugene with me.

Anyway, so some dark vampire/werewolf stopped following me. I'm just posting this in case he (I can't remember his pronouns!) comes back. 😅 Am I evil? Yes I am...so the old Metallica song goes...\m/ If ppl don't like my writings here, lemme know and I'll cease & go back to WordPress. My ppl there really love me warts & all. And my audience is older, like me. I'm very middle aged. I do have lots of things to share if you can stand my vernacular, writing style and sarcasm laced words. And obscenities.

I am good at not swearing though - I never, ever said a curse word around either one of my parents. Not once. I respected them. My mom was very hard. My dad was my world. Oh goddamn it! I don't have my Jet bracelet - it broke and my new one is in the mail! I wear Jet for grieving. It helps me not cry about my dad. It works well. Wear Jet if someone close to you passes away. The Victorians were correct! Not French Jet though!! That's nothing but black glass. I'll show you all my 104 year old French Jet necklace. I use it for channeling. Works great for being glass. Don't be fooled on Etsy with high prices unless it's old like mine.

Sorry, I'm all over the place, verbose and sped. Had a weird conversation with Yemanja earlier...don't know what to think. These changes swirling around are making me a little confused. I'm too old for this shit. Makes me just want to do nothing but my Muerteria. Use my cauldrons as vessels, perhaps. Not like Palo though, but kind of...I have been thinking, well, I need religion/spirituality, right? Now, I have no fuckin clue. Nada. Dunno. Roger that, Dahmer. 💀 I have always thought, need a god/ess, demon, etc. Maybe I don't. I really love my mother's though. 💖 They aren't a religion. Just stay away from the ATR folks. Lol. See, confused. We shall see & very soon. My dedication to Yemanja is five days away. A lot can change...I'll be doing divination, looking for signs & omens - anything. If anything breaks, burns, disappears, floats in mid-air - I'll be watching extra close! I'm freakin now!

Gotta run! 💖💀💖

[the-firebird69]

We need this guy next door john read alert out he has all these **** little stories to prove he's a man and it doesn't prove anything it proves he's a wimp. To prove stuff. we need them out it's a threat and it's also a stupid crap but we need them out now and permanently people. We realize there's a timetable but he can die earlier and over and over I mean come on get this **** out of here get his people out of here burn in front of him shut him up I don't care if it's 5 minutes keep doing it to him.

- We also have a couple things to talk about this storm was created by people removing ships and they're pulling out a lot of ships because they're having problems it's a pseudo empire and they're stopping the idiots with these ships frankly it's kind of a little rough with all this water and they can't do anything about it it should stop around midnight they should have those tunnels empty and they plan on going after what's inside. and There are other things going on as well but the storm they say they'll start their second batch tomorrow afternoon and then we think that the clouds and the moisture will be burned off in the Gulf there are there was a trail that led to Mexico from the ships and then went to the south of the Gulf along Florida and that fueled the removal of the ship moisture and pretty much more or less doubled it tomorrow would be half and it might evaporate most of it just as a heads up but there is flooding in Fort Myers and the Morlock are exiting and a lot of them are supposed to be 10% and it's more like 12% and more later on they will be down to about 10% at midnight and that's throughout Florida by average but southwest Florida will be up to around 3540 percent. And they're not gonna be supported the only thing doing it is probably the black ship and they're gonna push that out. And they plan to move west and they're going to do it shortly. Tomorrow night they will start removing the second position offshore it's about 300 miles to the southwest right now the next one will be 300 miles to the W W S or SW west and it'll come up and on North Fort Myers up to southern Sarasota will be in a swath of clouds hopefully just clouds and it might rain here continuously we don't know the ships are still going by the south route and they're going down the coast of Mexico and there aren't any that are going to California or the other side of the Yucatan. Yeah so that's a plus. And it's happening all over the world.

- And yeah these people are rude so we are going to lamb base them.

- Another item goes hand in hand with the storm these guys can't figure out what our son is saying most of the time but he says it's your torturing me bothering me harassing me keeping me poor and you'll **** pay for it and they can't understand it it's like Swahili this guy John Rema Lard has been hit this month and it's only mid month about 300 times and his brain has been dead 50 times that's what's in store for people who start yapping and harassing us and his people are on their knees shortly they'll be gone today the Eastern Hemisphere they took huge hits and the pseudo empire built up for what they did today over there. They lost a lot of people in the general populace and a few on the island they they went down to 3.4 percent from from about 3.6% they went down on the island from 3.1 percent to 3.0% and that's poor that's quite a loss and that's a huge number and it's going to go down more tonight and the hits will keep coming on them and armies are going to start going after them.

- There's been discoveries recently here in Florida a lot of people realize they're going after thorium and it's new to them and a lot of them remembered now and there's a lot of fighting. So they rediscovered stone chips there's a lot of fighting over those and very huge ones in the polls and Trump is under massive assault and there's a few other things to note he's sitting on an island but the cavern is not empty and he's been trying to do that there were a few interested parties looking for the entrance and they could not find it there's also another group of people running around here trying to find out who the guilty party is and really they are.

- John Remelard is going to court tomorrow and he is going to be prosecuted for what he's doing to people here and Tommy F is going to court Friday for it and the people here bringing them to court. He is meeting with a probation officer every day and it's because of the trial in New York City and it is abnormal. We don't know why they're doing that usually it's reserved until sentencing has been passed and they allot the month time. They can appeal. Which might not be massively normal either so people are wondering what happened and they look it up and they find out and somebody's lying so the president the former president is on probation and a lot of people assume that's what it is and he has to report in and they do check and make sure it's the right one and he's been doing it so far 'cause he doesn't wanna give up the position. Although he really is giving it up not to his knowledge though.

- And this kind of next door thinks he controls our son or our son believes in him or he's really a fruitcake a son doesn't like you and once you gone and he orders it all the time and you get killed trump. Up another point it's getting to be ridiculous we mentioned him every five minutes he's an ugly disgusting unintelligent boring person. We want him out we need troops of ours right now to get to it.

- We are in effect going to war with these Morlock and we are going to The Hague sometime in the next few days to tell them and most of them are still Morlock they want to invade our areas and grab our people and they want to use devices there. Right now we are up halfway on Kentucky 95% empty another quarter is 85% emptied and the last quarter that's the wall is 60% emptied we have cordoned off the factories about 90% of them are 85% right now we're going to cordon off the rest. If you attack or try to get in we will shoot you dead. And most of you don't listen to the warning and you end up dead..

- In addition to this information the upper Midwest is emptying rapidly now it'll suck the rest out of the Midwest they're taking with them essentials foodstuffs soaps detergents cleaning liquids cleaning machines dishwashers dishes stoves ovens crock pots practically every single piece of cookery and they're moving into these tent cities in order to come back and try and defeat us. And they wanna go through the tunnels and take over the camera and say they're from the Midwest.

- Other things are happening out there they're trying for other stuff and they're not doing very well and they don't have time to say we just have to grab all this and really it's kind of hilarious cause it doesn't last we're starting up factories in southern Kansas and to the south all the way to the wall we have about 70% of those factories up and running a lot of them make essentials but we have to provide for ourselves and then we'll have extra send it out it might take another couple days we're going to have huge shipments and we're going to use ships but they shouldn't make a mess we ship it to Florida but to Tampa and yeah it's gonna cause a little rain. And that leads us to another point.

- The rain is pushed a lot of stuff out and the rain up north that Appalachia. At the harbor mouth it was about a foot and a half last night of muck in the middle now it's about 14 inches and that's significant a foot and a half is 18 inches 4 inches in one day is phenomenal but it's really some sort of barrier and it blasted it out oddly enough when our son was stepping on the grass and you know there's reasons for that it's idiot stuff and Charlatan stuff it's cheap he says. And it blows out the crap well 44 wide down to 14 inches roughly it's really a little less but not that much and it's kind of this hump it's about four or five feet from east to west and 40 foot from north to south and that's on top of the sand and it's been whittling away at it but importantly enough right now there are two troughs eating away at it that go vertically north to south one on the east side one on the west side and it's about 80 feet long and it is ripping through this morning it was about 5 foot wide now it's about 4 foot 6 inches wide and tonight it's going to get ripped to shreds and might blow out and you think it would make a big difference but it causes a flow issue and it's gonna blast that out and then a ton of mock is gonna go out and in about two days the place will be full of oxygen for quite a while maybe half a year or more it's starting to grow seaweed and algae everywhere and the oxygen is increased from about 14 to 16 a day to about 15 to 18 on a good day inside and at night it's increased from 17 to about 18.5 and it has some moments of 20 normally and that's good it's increasing very slowly though and people need a lot more. And more shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

Zues Hera