#hi so i decided that instead of only posting caps i would try to do a more indepth look into some of my favorite reads throughout the month

[cal-kestis]

HOW TO: Make an iPhone Layout + Downloadable Template

Hi! I've gotten a few messages asking for a tutorial on my iPhone gifsets — but instead of only doing a tutorial (that would probably be triple the length this one already is), I decided to turn my layout into a template with all the bits and bobs! In the "tutorial" under the cut, I'll share everything you'll need, a free template download, and quickly go over how to use this template. :)

Disclaimer: This template uses Video Timeline and this tutorial assumes you have a basic to intermediate understanding of Photoshop.

PHASE 1: THE ASSETS

1.1 – Download fonts. These are the fonts used for all assets I've included in my template: – SF Pro or SF Pro Display (Regular, Medium, Bold): Either version works, they look nearly identical. You can download directly from https://developer.apple.com/fonts/ or easily find it via Google – Bebas Neue: Free on Google Fonts, Adobe Fonts, and dafont – Times New Roman (Bold): Should be a default font in Photoshop

Make sure to download and install any of the fonts you don't already have before opening my template. That way, once you open the template file, all the settings (font size, weight, spacing, color, opacity, etc.) are as intended.

1.2 – Download my template. Before you use my template, all I ask is that you don't claim or redistribute it as your own and that you give me proper credit in the caption of your post. Making these iPhone gifsets takes me a longgg time and turning this layout into a template took several hours too.

DOWNLOAD TEMPLATE VIA KO-FI ← This template is completely free to download (just enter $0), but if you feel inclined to tip me, I appreciate you! 💖

BTW this template also includes some of my frequently used icons!

NOTE: If, for some reason, you open the template and see the pop-up shown below, click "NO" — otherwise, the fonts will be all messed up:

And if you see this triangle with an exclamation point by a text layer, don't double-click it — it'll mess up the font as well:

PHASE 2: THE GIFS

I'm just going to briefly go over gif sizes and my recommendations. Also, keep in mind when grabbing your scenes, you'll want all of these gifs to be the same amount of frames.

2.1 – Background Gif: 540 x 540 px. I recommend this size so you have a good amount of visibility for the gif behind the iPhone wallpaper. I also recommend making this black and white (or in my case, black and white with a slight blue tint — idk I just like the way it looks) so the wallpaper coloring can stand out.

2.2 – Wallpaper Gif: 230 (w) x 500 (h) px. Keep in mind the very narrow dimensions of the wallpaper! And also keep in mind that you'll have a bunch of apps and widgets covering the image. I try to use wide shots (or layer my clips into looking like wide shots). Also, keep in mind your color scheme for your set and your character's aesthetic! I tend to focus on one or two colors for the wallpaper.

I usually position the wallpaper to the side with 20px bumpers, so there's lots of space to see the background:

2.3 – Large Photo Widget Gif: 201 (w) x 96 (h) px.

2.4 – Small Photo Widget Gif: 94 x 94 px.

PHASE 3: THE TEMPLATE – "IPHONE" FOLDER

In this section, I'll try to quickly walk you through how to use this template and some bits that may require extra instructions. I'll be going through each folder from top to bottom.

3.1 – Status Bar. Time, Service, and WiFi are pretty self-explanatory. In the Battery folder, you can use the shape tool to adjust the shape layers labeled "Fill (Adjustable Shape!)" to customize the battery level.

3.2 – Message Notification. Again, these are pretty self-explanatory. I've already masked the circle for the contact photo, so you can simply import any photo and use the transform tool to shrink it down. The circle is 24x24 px. If you don't want to use a photo, there's another folder called Default Initials.

If your message text can't fit the text box, the message should end with ellipses which is how iOS caps off long texts.

3.3 – Blurred Banner (IMPORTANT) This folder is easy to miss because there's only one placeholder layer in there. On iPhones, the area behind a banner notification and the dock get blurred (including the wallpaper and any apps).

What to do: Make a duplicate of the apps in Row 1 and/or widgets that intersect the message banner, convert them all into one smart object, apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 pixels) on the smart object, and move the smart object into this masked folder!

(There's another masked folder in the Wallpaper folder for the dock which I'll go over in that section.)

3.4 – Apps Turn off the yellow guide if you don't need it to keep things aligned and turn off layers you don't need by clicking the eye icon. Replace the "App" placeholder text with your app name, change the color or gradient of the square to compliment your color scheme, and add your custom app icon overlay!

If you can't find an app icon you need from the ones I provided, flaticon.com is a great resource. Also, if you can only find the filled version of an icon, check out this tutorial for how to make any text or shape into an outline.

Also, each app folder has 4 notification bubble options (1-4 digits). Again, you can toggle these on and off as you need!

3.5 – Big Widgets I like using these when my wallpaper has A LOT of negative space to fill. I included the Photos and Books widgets in my template, but there are lots of widgets available on iPhones. You can check some of the other ones I've done here, or if you have an iPhone, simply try adding some widgets to your phone!

There are also widgets bigger than these, but they would take up half of the phone screen which is why I don't use them for these edits.

3.6 – Small Widgets The only thing I'll say about these — because they're pretty straight forward — is there are a lot more weather themes than I included in my template. Also, if you set your character's phone to evening, the weather widget will show a dark background (sometimes with stars), so keep that in mind.

Speaking of, I've included Light Modes and Dark Modes for, I think, every applicable widget.

3.7 – Page Dots These barely perceptible dots indicate that your character has more pages of apps than shown in your gifset (so if an anon tries to come at you, you can just say "it's on the next page of apps" /j /lh)

3.8 – Dock Again, the dock has notification bubble options and I've included the default app designs, custom filled designs, and custom outlined designs for iMessage, Phone, Email, and Safari (there's also a FaceTime alternative if that's how your character rolls). These are usually the apps people keep in their Dock, but this is fully customizable too. So, if your character is, like, super obsessed with Candy Crush or something and needs it in thumb's reach — you can put it in the dock.

3.9 – Wallpaper This whole folder is masked already to a 230x500 px rounded rectangle.

Inside, you'll find another "Blurred Portion" folder for the area behind the message banner notification and the dock.

What to do: Duplicate your gif layer and place it in this folder, remove any sharpening filters, and apply a Gaussian Blur filter (Radius: 3.0 px). Be sure to add any coloring/adjustment layers ABOVE this folder and your original sharpened gif layer.

PHASE 4: EXPORT

We made it!

I hope this template makes it super easy for you to recreate this layout! If you decide to try it out, feel free to tag me with #usernik.

If you notice anything wonky about the template, kindly let me know so I can fix it! And if you have any questions about how to use this template, please don't hesitate to send me a message! I just ask that you try to be specific in your question so I'm able to answer you the best I can!

[vinvantae]

Unmasked

14/16

<<< previous part

Word count: 3.9k

A/N: Big thanks to my girl @formulaforza for not only making one of the edits for me but for beta-reading and helping me make this chapter as good as it can be. Love u ❤️ x

*************************************************

It was uncomfortably warm when you arrived in Spain, humid and sweaty and sticky - you still hadn’t managed to pull what Max and the others had planned out of your boyfriend.

Charles had whined half the morning when you refused to hold his hand that day, clammy palms, you claimed, but in reality you were hoping to sneak into the Ferrari hospitality as discreetly as possible.

You trudged through the paddock with your head down, cap covering your face as you head towards your driver’s room. Sometime before dawn, the PR team had sent over the press conference schedule.The FIA had decided to torture you, putting you alongside the four men who hadn’t publicly defended you from the harassment. They didn’t even know that privately, three of them were fully on your team, so it definitely felt like the sport’s governing body had resorted to bullying.

“Cherie, you’ve barely spoken to me this morning,” his voice was soft, a hand on the small of your back as you stepped inside. “Talk to me.”

“Did you see who they’ve put in my press conference?” Your tone matched his, lifting your eyes from the floor. “I think the FIA are on the side of the dickheads, trying to get me to leave.”

He frowned. “Why would you say that?”

“Because. Why else would they put me in a room with four men that they think hate me?” A soft huff left your lips as you chucked your bag down on a seat as the two of you stepped into the privacy of your room - Charles shutting the door with a gentle click. “It’s just plain nasty. As far as they know the four of them think I don’t deserve my seat.”

“Well.” He placed a hand on your shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “They’re going to kick themselves when they learn the truth.”

You frowned. “What truth? I don’t know what I’m walking into this morning…”

“Trust me. It’s going to be okay.”

You want to believe him, but it’s terrifying going into what would mostly likely be a room full of men who were expecting you to be absolutely tortured by your rivals. You knew the boys had good intentions but not knowing what those intentions were made your stomach flip. Instead of responding to Charles, you gave him a hasty peck on the lips before heading out to said media duties.

It was still fairly quiet around the paddock - not too many people flaunting their VIP passes this early in the weekend, so it was easy to slip through without too much hassle. You’re only stopped once by a group of girls who were all very kind and only asked for autographs. “I can’t believe they’ve put you in a press conference with those little bitches. How hard is it to put out a post saying they support you?”

Your cheeks flushed a soft pink. “It’s kind of hard to explain but Max, Pierre and Esteban do have my back they’re just… I don’t know, I know as little as you.”

“Well, best of luck, y/n. We’ve got your back if you need to teach them a thing or two.” One of them grinned.

Moments like this reminded you exactly of why you wanted to be a driver in the first place. You wanted to be the woman that others looked to for inspiration. You tried to remind yourself of this when a small gaggle of men leered at you as you continued making your way to the conference. They didn’t matter. They’d never matter. And if you were about to walk into a meeting with no back-up then you’d have to remember who exactly you were fighting for.

For the little girl who was watching her very first race, squished between Mum and Dad on the sofa and seeing someone like her amongst the 20 best drivers in the world.

For the teenager who hid under her sheets at 3am to watch races just to see her idol cross the line and wish that maybe it could be her one day.

And for all the women who never got the chance to race, believing they’d never be able to - finally seeing a woman achieve greatness in a sport that was supposed to be just for men.

You do it for them, for all of them.

You took a deep breath before stepping into the holding room. Immediately, four pairs of eyes were on you. You held your head high, not even sparing a glance towards the ones you considered friends. Just as Max was about to cross the room to speak with you, the door to the press conference swung open and the five of you were ushered into the room.

Max squeezed past you so you were sandwiched between him and Pierre on the sofa. You decided not to question it, just sitting down and taking a deep breath.

Let’s just get this over with.

“Let’s just start by saying Fernando, Esteban, Pierre, Y/N and Max - thank you all for joining us nice and early this morning.”

The five of you all gave various hellos to the room, you shifted uncomfortably in your seat as all of the eyes seemed to be on you. You knew exactly what kind of questions were coming - why else would they have put you in the room with these specific drivers if the debate of you being in the sport wasn’t about to be raised once more.

“We have seen a recent influx of negative responses about y/n being on the grid.” You sat up straighter - prepared to defend yourself. “Most of the grid has shown their support, but the four of you have remained quiet. Of course you don’t owe y/n defence but Max, Pierre and Esteban you’ve raced alongside her since you were children. So is there a reason you’ve chosen to remain quiet?”

“We have something to say actually.” Max cleared his throat. “I know we have disappointed people, especially our female fans, for not speaking out in support of y/n. But the three of us believe that putting a post on instagram is simply not enough. It wasn’t a big enough statement.”

Pierre watched your brow furrow as you listened to Max - he knew the words that were about to come out of the Dutchman’s mouth were going to shock you. He wanted to reach out and put a comforting hand on your shoulder but it would draw too much attention so he simply kept a watchful eye on you.

All eyes in the room followed a member of the Red Bull team as they crossed the room and handed Max a piece of paper. You didn’t get a good look at it before he started to read it.

“As a direct consequence of the FIA’s failure to take sufficient and decisive action in protection of driver 30, Y/n L/n, from the violence and harassment faced since the public reveal of driver 30’s identity, a coalition of drivers have signed a petition.” Your eyes burr into the side of his head, but he doesn’t dare look up from the page. “Led by drivers 1, 10, 16, and 30; Myself, Pierre Gasly, Charles Leclerc, and Esteban Ocon, a total of fourteen drivers have agreed to protest the Spanish Grand Prix, including all media duties, free practices, and competitive sessions, until appropriate measures have been taken to protect driver 30, and any other driver, from life-threatening behaviour. The drivers participating in this protest are as follows; drivers 1, 55, 44, 63, 16, 3, 4, 31, 10, 22, 5, 18, 24, and 77. This statement is being formally filed with the FIA immediately following the conclusion of this press conference. The official outline, along with the signatures of all 14 drivers will hopefully be made public by the FIA. If Y/n wishes to continue taking questions, she is free to. The rest of us retain the right to no comment if we so choose.”

The silence in the room was palpable - no one spoke a word as Max handed the piece of paper to you so you could read the names on the petition. You couldn’t even focus on the words, the room becoming a blur. Protest the race?

“The FIA only has so much power over what people post online, surely you cannot protest a race over that?”

“We are aware of this, but y/n was physically assaulted in the paddock. This should have never been a possibility.” Pierre spoke up next, you blinked hard a couple of times to bring yourself back into the room - your facade you’d put on had been blown, so confused by the fact the grid wanted to protect you so intensely. “The FIA have taken absolutely no action at all after the assault. Should’ve been the first thing they did.”

“Y/n, you look taken aback by this statement. Do you have anything to say?”

You lifted your eyes from the petition to see the entire room staring at you. “I uh… I don’t have words to describe how grateful I am. I tried to talk the guys out of doing anything drastic but the fact that so many of them are willing to stick their necks out to stand up for me like this? I… I’ll forever be in debt to them.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair that they’ll all risk being fined while you have no consequences?”

Max could see your jaw visibly clench and he prepared himself for the worst. “Are you serious? How was I supposed to sign a petition that I didn’t even know existed? I never asked for any of this… if they protest the race, you bet I’ll be with them.”

“We actively chose to not tell y/n about this petition as we knew she would ask us not to do it.” Esteban leant forward as he spoke. “It would not have been fair of us to put this on her shoulders with all of the stuff she’s already dealing with.”

You gave him a gentle, sincere smile before finally taking a moment to read the names on the petition. Some of the names weren’t so shocking but others such as George and Yuki were pleasant surprises. There was only a small handful who hadn’t and you couldn’t help but smile, a stray tear escaping at the fact this grid of men - who had nothing to gain - were willing to face fines and penalties to ensure your safety.

“Well, we eagerly wait to see how the FIA responds, best of luck this weekend. To all of you.”

As soon as you stepped back into the holding room you threw your arms around Max and hugged him tight. “You’re absolutely insane.”

“It had to be drastic to get them to listen.” He chuckled, hugging you back.

“I hope you all know what you are risking.” Fernando finally spoke up after sitting in complete silence for the entire session. “All of this to stop some bullying? It is far too much.”

Esteban scoffed a little. “Do you really think the FIA aren’t going to take action when they see the current and former champions aren’t going to race? Even if they don’t believe in what we are protesting for, the amount of money they stand to lose from this is enough of a threat.”

The two teammates stared each other down, the tension palpable. You hoped Esteban was right, ideally you didn’t want any of the boys to get in trouble for you.

But now it was all in the FIA’s hands.

*******

(Credits to Mack for this ❤️ thank you again)

*******

[Simon Lazenby] -“Hello everyone, welcome to Spain just ahead of Free Practice One. I’m Simon Lazenby and today I’m joined by Martin Brundle, Naomi Schiff and Nico Rosberg. Bit of a strange one here today ladies and gentlemen, isn’t it? Well, I guess we better jump into the biggest news to break this weekend - most of the grid have signed a petition and will currently not be racing or performing media duties this weekend. What do we think?”

[Martin Brundle] - “I have to be honest Simon, I do think it’s all a bit of an overreaction from the drivers. We all get critiques through our career whether it be in person or online, so I think y/n should just get her head down and crack on. The fans came to see a race, it shouldn’t be put on hold just for her.”

[Nico Rosberg] - “I have to disagree with you there Martin. What y/n has been put through since her reveal is unprecedented. We as a sport should be celebrating the fact that a woman is one of the twenty best drivers in the world and I think the drivers standing up for her is wonderful to see.”

[Naomi Schiff] - “I agree with you Nico. None of you will ever really understand what it’s like to be a woman in motorsport - we are held to a much higher standard than any man would ever be.”

[MB] - “But don’t you just think, as a two time champ, that she should have a strong enough head to be able to see past the criticisms?”

[NS] - “It’s not just criticisms, Martin. It’s physical violence and hate speech. Any minority in this sport whether it be y/n, Lewis, Yuki or Guanyu will always have people critiquing things they cannot change about themselves. Sure, someone may have called you a bad driver back in your day, but no one has ever told you to get back in the kitchen or go back to where you came from.”

[SL]- “Branching off from that, as you said, other drivers have received hate speech in the past. How would you all say y/n’s situation is any different?”

[NR] - “Being Lewis’ teammate and even as kids, he went through things similar to what y/n is going through. I think the biggest difference is, we didn’t have someone like Lewis to really show us how wrong it was that he was being treated so differently. Y/n is luckily in an era where she is surrounded by drivers who can see just how important it is to her and female fans that they don’t let things like this get off lightly.”

[NS] - “I think it’s important that the FIA take more protective action for all of our drivers. It is just a shame it’s taken most of the grid threatening a protest for the conversation to even take place. Y/n is a two time WDC and it feels like that has all been forgotten just because she’s a woman - it’s about time that the governing body of the sport take things like this more seriously.”

[SL] - “Now onto the drivers who aren’t protesting the race. We have Fernando Alonso, both Williams drivers and both Haas drivers. Now we have spoken to both Williams and Haas respectively and they say it is a purely financial decision not to let their drivers protest but they stand in solidarity with y/n and the rest of the grid. But Fernando is a bit of a different story.”

[MB] - “Fernando’s very old school. Very level headed about dealing with your criticisms - I guess the same as me. So it’s no surprise that he is not partaking in the protest.”

[NS]- “It is a shame as he is one of the most prolific drivers on the grid but I think the message will stay clear with Lewis, Sebastian and Max all taking a stand this weekend.”

[SL]- “Thank you all. Coming up next, hopefully following some affirmative action from the FIA this morning, is Free Practice One. Stay tuned.”

****

****

You tapped your foot nervously against the floor as you waited to hear The FIA’s decision. They unsurprisingly had a very quick turnaround of how they were going to respond to the protest and now the fate of the grid was fully in their hands. They could choose to do nothing and everyone takes a fine or they could actually respond.

Charles sat beside you on the sofa, his hand coming to rest on your knee to stop your leg from bouncing. “It’s all going to be okay, y/n. They can’t not do something… there’s only 5 drivers currently racing, the fans would be outraged if that’s what they paid to see.”

“It’s just a lot. I'm just not sure what they can do,” you said, voice meek. You lifted your eyes to meet his gaze. “Like if people want to hurt me they will, y’know?”

He pressed a chaste kiss to your temple. “They have to do something, I’m sure it’s all going to turn out okay.”

Attention was swiftly stolen as the door slowly opened - a small man with a clipboard entered with an unreadable expression on his face. “Can you all please follow me?”

The sound of 15 pairs of footsteps scuffling out of the room echoed through your head, Charles’ warm hand on the small of your back - the heat of his touch seeps through your Ferrari polo. The 15 of you were sat around a boardroom table facing the president of the FIA and half a dozen other high ranking members. It felt much more like they were sentencing you than opening a conversation.

Your heartbeat was loud in your ears as you locked eyes with the man who was about to decide the fate of the grid.

“Thank you all for meeting with us on such short notice. We hope what we have come up with is a solution that is both suitable and protective for both us and all of you so we can get this resolved quickly and avoid any more of the race weekend being missed.”

It was like he rehearsed the informality of it all, trying like a gentle parent to get down to your level before scolding. You see right through it, through him, through this whole smoke and mirrors show.

Charles linked his hand with yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwined against your skin calms you, steadies your half-rapid breathing. You looked at him, studying his profile for just a brief moment before remembering where you were.

“Any assaults, physical or verbal, performed by any individual at a Grand Prix towards any driver or personnel will immediately be banned indefinitely from any sports and events governed by the FIA. As much as we would like to do more about online harassment, that is much out of our hands - we hope you understand. We will put out a statement saying that we do not tolerate hate speech of any kind.”

Your eyes flickered across the room to gauge the reaction of your rivals. They hadn’t told you what they wanted from the FIA but, to you, it seemed like more than enough. Not only did it protect you but it also covered everyone else. You weren’t leading the protest, though, so in the end it wasn’t up to you. “May we have the room?” Sebastian was the one to break the silence, as one of the leaders of the GPDA he wanted to give everyone the time to collect their thoughts and discuss, rather than having one of fifteen feel that they could speak on behalf of everyone.

The president nodded and the men escorted themselves out - everyone’s eyes fell on you. “Why are you all looking at me like that?”

“…what do you think?” Max asked.

“I didn’t start the petition,” you held your hands up defensively. “It’s not up to me.”

George frowned. “Surely you have an opinion though?”

“Of course I do,” a soft sigh left your lips. “But at the end of the day it’s you guys who are sticking your necks out. If you think this enough then say it is. If it’s not, say it’s not.”

Max gave you a gentle smile, placing a hand on your shoulder as he stood up. “As much as I’d like for them to take more preventative action rather than reactive - I think it’s the most realistic solution and I’m ready to end the protest.”

“Everyone agree? If so then I can get them to write up the decision and we can all get back to doing what we love best, right?” Sebastian hummed, trying to dissipate some of the tension in the room.

A chorus of agreement echoed through the room and you felt like you could finally relax. It had been the longest few hours of your life and as grateful as you were for all of these men to have your back - it would be nice to put it behind you and not have them get in any more trouble.

After the formalities were all done and dusted, a final consensus reached between the drivers and the FIA, it was over. You were finally able to watch them all get back in the cars and do what they all do best.

The next few days felt like a blur, between being ushered from interview to interview about the protest and putting your best foot forward during your time in the car - you barely had a moment to breathe. But after Ferrari achieved a 1-2 start during qualifying, it really felt like the weekend had started over fresh.

“You ready?” Charles approached you on the starting grid, his helmet dangling from his fingers.

You gave him an excited smile. “Yeah, I’m so glad everyone gets to race. I was worried there for a second.”

The softening of his gaze made your heart skip a beat. With his free hand he reached up and cupped your jaw in his hand - brushing a thumb across your skin. “You’re worth it…”

As he lent in, you felt your breath catch in your throat but just before his lips met yours he ducked to the side to whisper in his ear. “But I will beat you in this race, Cherie.”

“I’d like to see you try.” You teased, placing a hand in the centre of his chest to push him back. “I’m on pole for a reason, no?”

“Touché. Bonne chance.”

This time he did kiss you, only for a moment - but long enough to ignite the adrenaline inside you before stepping away to get ready for the race. You shook off the nerves before hopping into the cockpit, anxious to get going.

A small part of you felt a little guilty that you’d qualified ahead of these men who’d helped you but the championship came first. You had to start pumping out results if you wanted to win and knowing now that the FIA was doing their part to protect you - you could focus on what’s important.

And as the green lights began to flash you took one more deep breath before focusing on the clear road ahead.

Somewhere, a little girl’s eyes are glued to her television screen, to your helmet and the infamous red car. For her, for all of the versions of her, it was time to win this race.

******

Next part >>>

Sorry for the delay on this one! Writers block hit me hard 😭 hope you enjoyed! One more thank u to @formulaforza for helping me, couldn’t have done it without you ❤️

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

[astroboots]

Idk if you've answered this before, but how boa and frankie met? Was it love at first sight?

At First Sight

Content: Your best friend Santiago introduces you to his other best friend: Frankie Morales

Word Count: 2,000

Homesick Masterlist | Homecoming Universe | Astroboot’s Masterlist

It is probably not the most romantic thing to say about the man who would one day be your future husband. But the first time you met Frankie, you’d barely noticed he was in the room. 

Frankie is one of those men that has a quiet energy about him. Not imposing. Not a braggart. He’s perfectly happy to sit, tucked away into a comfortable corner of the room, sipping on a shitty beer, and almost be forgotten about while the others in the room carry the conversation. 

So no, you hadn’t paid much attention to the man with soft curls, and a sleepy smile, when you were screaming your lungs out in the private karaoke booth to the screeching horror of your friends.

In your defense, you're more than a little bit tipsy. Fresh off a six hour exam with wrecked nerves, and Santiago has decided to spend more than his paltry salary with the army should be able to afford on tequila and Aguila that never seems to run out.

Santiago is faring much better than you on your duette rendition of the Celine Dion song you're supposed to be singing together. Because not only can the bastard sing, but he also seems to know the lyrics to the song, instead of whatever you're doing, which is singing the song title over and over again even as the song has moved on. But Santiago saves it, grinning happily as he pulls you in and continues to sing into the creaky microphone.

His sturdy arm, warm and clammy, in the confined small room, hangs over your shoulder. The weight of it is like coming home, and you treasure that contact.

With every chorus, his heat-flushed cheeks inch closer and you try to ignore it, in a room filled with your friends, but you end up leaning into the warmth of him all the same.

When you finally wind down and the song ends, your throat is scratching at the lining. You know that your vocal chords are going to be rendered useless for the rest of that week as you sit back down on the squeaky vinyl sofa with Santiago who is already pouring you another tequila shot and shoving the wedge of lime between your teeth. 

Your roommate, Greta, tries to offer Santiago's friend the mic when a Michael Jackson song comes on, but he immediately shakes his head, shyly pulling the cap over his forehead like an ostrich trying to hide its head in the sand, mumbling a a quiet excuse that he’s a much bigger Prince fan. 

Throughout the evening, the poor man doesn’t sing, and despite the polite smile on his face, you are convinced that he is probably having the worst time of his life. 

Not that Santiago seems to pay any attention. He's having the best time of his life, showing off how much better of a singer he is than the rest of you (the show-off) as he downs one Tequila shot after another like it's goddamned tap water.

Santiago doesn't seem to have any care in the world that he's wrangled this poor man into a post-exam party filled with rowdy strangers drunk off their asses. Which is typical Santiago really.

Shaking your head with a sigh, you tap Santiago on the shoulder, and he leans into you allowing you to cup your hand over his ear so he can hear you over the chaotic wailing in the background.

“Is your friend alright? I don’t know his name—” 

“Who? Catfish?” Santiago shouts in your face.

You grimace at that stupid army moniker. “Not calling him that.” 

From the corner of your eye, you see the said Catfish look over in your direction at his army nickname being called.

You can't really make much sense of the guy. The only thing you know about him is that he is Santiago's army buddy that's staying with him for a few week while they're on leave.

But there's nothing about the man that screams army about him.

He's soft spoken and polite, and despite the muscular build he's positively skinny. Not the brawny, loudmouthed guys you'd often imagined an army guy would be like. But then again it's not like you've seen or been around many of them. Santiago never brings any of his army friends around you or around his family.

It's a separation he clings onto, two different worlds that should never clash, and he's stubbornly steadfast about his refusal to mix the two.

The only exception he's ever made is for this man named Catfish-- and you can't help but wonder what's so special about this man that would have the most stubborn man in the universe go back on his principles.

"You never bring people from the army around, why him?" you ask.

Santiago, doesn't look up from his tequila shot or at you as he downs it before answering. “His family are some rich hot shots, deals with oil or something in New York, doesn’t get along with them. So I told him to come here before we’re deployed again. Better to be among friends right?” 

With a tilt of the head, you can’t help but observe the man across the room, making little effort in hiding your scrutiny. 

White faded t-shirt, a worn hat embossed with the company logo ‘Standard Heat Oil’, and overgrown hair underneath, the color of deep mud, weren’t exactly the markings of a trust fund kid. 

“He doesn’t look it.” 

“That’s a mean thing to say," Santiago says as if he's scolding you, but he's smiling at you as he says it.

He leans back in, even closer to you, until his lips are close to your ear so that you can hear him perfectly clear over the mayhem in the background. "He's my best friend over there. It's only right he gets to meet my best friend over here. Be nice to him."

The first time Frankie meets you, he's nervous.

It feels momentous somehow. Like the sighting of the mythical Chupacabra in the wild. A legendary creature told only in hushed whispers around bonfires, but no one has ever seen.

He knows who you are, seen your name on the military packets you send Santiago. Caught snippets of the letters written in your neat handwriting. On the very rare odd occasion, he's even managed to convince Santiago to share some of the chocolate and snacks you send him (for a hefty price).

Santiago doesn't talk about you much. But he doesn't have to say it in words for Frankie to understand that you're important to him.

It's clear from the way his smile goes soft when he reads your letters in his bunkbed. The way he'll unfailingly waste his time on leave to argue with local vendors over the price of ugly postcards to send to you. The way he hoards you like a secret, far out of bounds, like he doesn't want his life and world in the army to taint you.

So when Santiago invites him over tonight, knowing you'll be there. Frankie knows it's important.

He feels like a fiance about to meet his potential in law for the first time. The desperation to make a good impression. That nervous fluttering in his stomach where he's not sure if it's because he has food poisoning or if the beer here in Florida is just that bad. Except, of course, Santiago is not his boyfriend and you're definitely not Santiago's mother.

So far he's probably not doing a very good job at making a first impression.

Santiago being Santiago, had foregone introductions, and so Frankie never even really got to say hi or tell you his name. In the midst of the crowd, he'd somehow ended up being seated in the far end of the room. Away from you. Away from Santiago, sitting next to a couple he doesn't know who have been trying to jam their tongues into each other's throat like there'll be oil if they drill down deep enough.

Out of nowhere, he hears Santiago calls for him, but when he looks up, Santiago is in deep conversation with you.

He sees you observing him from across the room. Sharp eyes pinned on his form like you're trying to figure out what his deal is. The kind of look a shopkeeper of a bodega around the corner would have on a potential shoplifter.

And shit, that means the two of you are talking about him, doesn't it?

His skin prickles and stings under his t-shirt, and he grips hard around the neck of the beer bottle, trying to force himself to take another sip to look busy.

"Oi Fish!" Santiago shouts from the other end of the room, and this time Frankie's sure of it, Santiago is actually talking to him and not just about him.

Frankie looks up to see Santiago gesture at the door, signalling it's time to leave as he stands up and grabs your jacket. Frankie gets up in a haste with a murmured bye on his way out, but he doesn't think it makes much of a difference, the couple next to him is still busy playing whack-a-mole into each other's throats.

He joins the two of you in the cramped hallway. It's dark and smells musty of beer and sweat.

You're a little bit worse for wear at this point, swaying on your step and you're only three steps in when your shoe catches on the lump of the carpet and jolt forward seconds from landing on your face.

His reflexes react before his mind does. Arm flying out to catch you by the waist. Even through the cotton of your shirt, your skin feels warm against his palm.

You're looking up at him with wide eyes, face inches from his. Sharp and piercing, they're intimidating somehow, like if he looks long enough into them you'll find out everything there is about him and yet he can't look away.

"Oh, thanks," you say.

You're still staring up at him, and shit, he's been standing still all this time, not moving... still holding onto you hasn't he?

"You can let go Fish, I got her," Santiago says next to you. Hand already placed on the small of your back and Frankie can feel his arm brush up against him.

The small touch from Santiago is all it takes to send a shock through his spine, and his hand flinches away like it scalds him.

In that brief second, his eyes catches yours again, your head tips to the side, eyes curious. He follows your gaze, to see you observing his hand, before your eyes flicker towards Santiago's arm looped around your waist.

Maybe he's just paranoid. Maybe it's all the nervous energy in him. But something in your eyes seems to change. Recognition, and Frankie feels a cold grip around his spine, like he's burning in a firepit and freezing to death on a snow covered mountain all at once.

"Everything okay, Fish?" Santiago asks.

All Frankie can do is nod dumbly, as he forces himself to take a step forward to keep up with you two. "Where we going?"

"Grabbing food. There's an amazing Cubano place nearby." Santiago answers as he pushes open the door to the outside. "They also serve Yuca fries that this one is obsessed with", he continues as he nods towards you. "You love that stuff too right Frank?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Frankie takes in the cooling air of the outside trying to calm down his nerves and the sudden spike of adrenaline that seems to refuse to leave his system.

"See! You two have things in common already, you'll be best friends in no time," Santiago chimes.

You laugh brightly at that.

"Yes," you say, and your head tips towards Frankie, eyes observant. But there's a warm and knowing smile on your face that makes the anxious knot gnawing in his stomach ease somehow. "I think Frankie and I have a lot in common."

Follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

[flyingfabio]

Why Fabio chose to stay at Yamaha

Or why the Devil still wears Yamaha. You know it’s getting serious when I bother putting caps on a Tumblr post. I have to admit this is largely self-interested as I try to put some order into my thoughts. Putting this under read more because this is very long (probably too much).

The reasons why:

The factory team. Perhaps the most important, as I think Fabio wouldn’t have settled for anything less. He’s in a state of mind where, at this stage of his career, going back to a satellite team would means defeat. So this already eliminates the best bikes of the grid, as factory Ducati have three Ducati riders lining up to be Bagnaia’s teammate, and as KTM will most likely have Binder and Acosta on their factory bikes next year. You could make a point for a Pramac seat, as it’s “almost” a factory seat, but Pramac has already made it clear they want to have a junior team and grow talents there by signing Aldeguer for two years. Fabio is still young, but he’s an experienced MotoGP rider. And as I said before, I don’t think he would accept being anything else than Pecco’s teammate. So what is left? Honda but the point is to go to a better sorted bike, which the RC213V clearly is not. Already the only option left is Aprilia. 

The Aprilia option. This is assuming Aprilia offered Fabio a factory seat, which might not even have happened. Aleix keeps telling everyone he doesn’t want to retire yet, and Aprilia look like they want to keep Maverick. So what if Aprilia only offered a factory bike in their satellite team? If so, see point one. The thing is, I think Fabio did receive a factory offer from Aprilia, and there are two main factors to consider. First, the inconsistency and unreliability of the Aprilia bike. It’s no secret to anyone, the Aprilia suffers from technical issues every race weekend, and often prevents riders from bagging points on race day. It’s been an ongoing issue for years, and for now, there is no sign of actual improvement on this matter. The Aprilia is also inconsistent depending on the race track, though I think it's a lesser problem as Aprilia have sort of improved there, and the right rider can make up for this weak point. This first factor is strongly correlated to the second, which is money. According to early reports, Aprilia’s offer was 4 millions per year while Yamaha’s was the TRIPLE of that number. Now, if this offer was coming from factory Ducati instead of Aprilia, I think Fabio would have jumped ship, because the Ducati is a proven championship winning bike. But the Aprilia? Why would you turn down that much down money to go to a bike that keeps having critical failures? No matter how good of a rider you have, if your engine goes bop, there is nothing you can do about it. Maybe Aprilia will manage to sort out this problem, but maybe they won’t, and you would have turned down a huge load of money for a few race wins a year. Wins are good, but nothing compared to a championship. Riders’ careers are short and come with very high risks, so making as much money as you can in short periods of time is critical.

Last main reason is the timing. Yamaha is FINALLY making ACTUAL changes in the way they operate after years of riders complaining about the slow or non existent development, Fabio being the most vocal about it. F1 motorist Marmorini is two years in working on the engine, and Yamaha have finally decided to get some key players and hired Ducati’s ex number two Bartolini (for who Fabio had only praises after working with him for a few days) along with former Ducati aerodynamicist Nicotra. They are apparently working closely with an Italian aerodynamics company, have started a partnership with a 3D printing company and are basically strengthening the operations of the brand’s base in Italy. Does all of this come so fucking late? For sure, and Yamaha is paying the price for their complacency. It’s too early for these recent changes to bear their fruits on the track, so could Fabio have left now after finally getting what he asked, without ever seeing what these changes could have led to? He could have, sure. I think he would have if it meant switching for a factory Ducati, but the only option was Aprilia and it’s a less sexy option. See point two.

Bonus reason: sponsors. I think Monster Energy played a part. Monster sponsors many riders in MotoGP, but Fabio is their guy. He is the number 1 in the team for which they are the title sponsor. They wouldn't let him go that easily.

The gloomy part now, the reasons why there is doubt to have about this renewal (I won't elaborate as much because I don’t want to get depressed):

Yamaha is Yamaha… Disappointing fans since 2016 (minus 2021).

The il4 engine problem. With Suzuki gone, the il4 is yet to show how it can be competitive in this heavy aero era of these last few years. Maybe it has reached its peak and bears too many disadvantages compared to the v4. Then Yamaha will have to wait and pray for the 2027 new regulations to be more favorable…

This renewal doesn’t make sense if Fabio doesn’t plan to stick with Yamaha for the new 2027 regulations. He will help develop the new 850cc bike, and if the development doesn’t go completely awry, why would he leave then?

Fabio will not be able to test himself on another bike for another two years. The il4 style suited him, but what if he liked the v4 more? For now, we will never know. 

Bonus part, because I want to end on a good note:

The response of the Japanese fans has been overwhelmingly heart-warming. Look at any comment under a Japanese post, they are SO happy that Fabio is staying, and that not every rider is leaving to go to an European team. Japan is so important for MotoGP, and after Marc leaving Honda, Fabio staying at Yamaha is important to prevent Japan’s MotoGP stronghold from further decaying.

Fabio will be the highest paid rider in MotoGP. He will be able to take care of his family like he intends to. No worries for the bills of his new very big house. 

Fabio looks damn good in blue. 

Bonus hater point (I can’t help myself): 

Ducati can fuck off for wanting to pay its riders with pennies.

If you have made it through all of this, thank you…? Why are you still here...?

[inkluvs]

you've got a fever

a/n: hehe okay i think this was originally written for @pollenallergie ? posted a few months ago. tw: sickness ; cough medicine; him being boyfriend ; (0.5k ish)

eddie munson x fem!reader

masterlist // taglist

The shooting pain behind your eyes increases when your front door slams shut. Eddie’s voice calls out and you turn out to your stomach, your breath feverishly warm as you groan at the sudden penetration of the room's silence. You normally don’t mind how openly affectionate he is with you, in fact, you encourage it, but today even the sound of your air conditioning seems too loud. He calls out to you again, this time softer as he walks into your bedroom.

“Shit,” he curses, his tone hushed and colored with concern, as he kneels in front of you. He then presses the back of his hand against your forehead, the perspiration sticking to his hand as he remarks, “babe you’ve got a fever.”

A childish whine bubbles in the back of your throat along with the inexplicable urge to reply with a sarcastic remark. However, you control that urge, remembering that Eddie was only trying to help and it’s not his fault you were so irritable right now. Instead, you roll onto your side, facing Eddie and making him smile.

“There’s that face,” his words were fond and soft, “you wanna rest now or later?”

“Later, I think.” Eddie nods at your response before helping you sit up slowly. Your eyes screw shut as you fight off the nausea stirring in your stomach and he seems to notice, stopping his movements immediately. A mix of adoration and concern makes his eyes crinkle in the corner when you finally look back at him.

“Y’alright?”

You nod.

“I’m gonna get you cold medicine ‘kay? Stay right here.” You want to tell him that you couldn’t move if you tried, that your legs feel like jelly, but you decide to keep that to yourself; Eddie’s already concerned enough for you as is. He soon returns with your medicine, staring at the instructions for a few minutes before pouring it into the cap and handing it to you. Your nose crinkles at the strong smell of the cough syrup and you looked up at him.

“Eddie,” you murmured.

“Yeah?” he replied, honey dripping from his tone.

“Do I have to take this?” your bottom lip jutted out, staring at the cap between your fingers like a child would with their vegetables.

“D’you wanna be miserable all night?” You shake your head and press the cap to your lips, sniffling as you gulp down the medicine. You frown at the bitter aftertaste while giving Eddie the cap. He was quiet, staring at you while smiling like you were the most beautiful thing in the world. Of course, if you ask him he’d say you are. He’d say that even though your face was drained of color from the illness, he was waiting for you to finish your medicine so he could kiss you. And he did, pressing his lips against yours and not caring that he was able to taste the cough syrup on your tongue.

[puckpocketed]

inspired by yesterday’s ovechkin-posting and the stick story, because. i had as much fun as anyone with the idea that riding a camel over all-star break is what jostled the goal-scoring back out of him, but at the same time... i am frothing at the fucking mouth about ovi × The League × national hockey media. where is his respect? where is his hype? where are his roses???? please !!!! understand !!!! that i find sidney endearing as a guy and he is undeniably incredible as a player and he deserves the love that he gets. but from day one, ovi has only existed to them in relation to sid and that makes me lose my fucking mind. 

and general hockey fans through the years loved ovi, and then they hated him, and then they said he was an overhyped washed-up old man who doesn't care anymore (starting in like 2013 lmfao). like, I'M sorry, back in the late '00s and early '10s he was being hounded for days about his cellies, and being booed every time he came out on the ice—and you're mad? that he looks like he's lost his love and enthusiasm for the game???? (i cannot for the LIFE of me find the podcast ep where i heard this, so. grain of salt. but a former teammate talked about how startling and upsetting ovi found the booing, bc it was such a sudden change, and meanwhile, ovi was just the same guy he’d always been 😭).

and then, idk, we went through hate again, and then indifference, and now in the 2020s we're back to "oh, his production has dropped so therefore he's overhyped, can’t wait ‘til he’s gone"?? the season ovi was 36 he had more points per game than sid did last year at 36 (90 in 77 vs 94 in 82). or how about. please remind me how many goals gretz scored the season he was 36 (25 goals compared to ovi's 50). or what about when gretz was 38 (9 goals compared to ovi's 31)? i am NOT trying to say that ovi is "better" than either of them—this is just me saying that people are completely irrational about him. like back when he was drafted and people were saying "oh, he's not actually as good as he looks, because he's lying about his age" bc he looked 25 instead of 18. like. okay lmao. and then what? his NINE rocket richards count less bc he started later? he's actually older now and scoring more per game than gordie howe was the first time he retired? like what are we doing here??? i'm not an empty-netters-pod guy, but they talked about it in the first few minutes of this ep; like... yeah, why was everyone so fucking excited to dance on his grave at the start of last season? and then again in the playoffs? he’s NOT DONE YET, and even if he were, i would hope to see a modicum of respect for the player he’s been and the career he’s had! 

the point is. ovi has scored 30+ goals per season every single year since his debut except the pandemic-shortened season. his teammates, current and former, love him and say what an awesome, generous, team-focused guy he is. he has literally dozens of nhl records already, some of them previously belonging to gretzky. and yet! general hockey fans and the league and national hockey media all refuse to take him seriously. and caps fans (mostly) and dc hockey media (mostly) (barry svrlugas i do not forgive you... dan holmi i would just like to have a fucking word with you....) are all just standing here like hello? alexander ovechkin is RIGHT HERE and he is very good at hockey. hello he is GOOD at HOCKEY, can you hear me????? is anyone seeing this, HELLO???? 

i don’t get it. i simply and entirely don’t get it. there are so many excellent players on teams that i hate! there are players i dislike and i can still point to many impressive things about their game!!! WHAT is the mental block that happens for everyone when it comes to ovi, and how tf has it been going strong for nineteen fucking years? 

thank you for listening!! i swear to you that the vast majority of the time i am simply having a fun time with whatever my terrible children decide to do, admiring ovi’s fashion choices, cheering on my number one babygirl dylan strome, and enjoying whatever horny, incomprehensible nonsense they get up to. it’s just that sometimes i gotta go guard dog mode about alex ovechkin 😅

Hello!!! First of all, thanks for going to all the trouble of typing all that out and including links. I have loved sifting through your citations, and felt very much like a floor dwelling sea creature eating nutrients from the silt <3

I believe you all when you say Ovechkin's not done yet. Shaking my entire clenched fin at everyone calling him a washed up old man!! Fascinated by the Caps' attempt to pivot into being competitive long enough for him to break the record, because what of the After? The Rebuild of Damocles beckons!! Except, having paid some attention to prospects I see they've got a pretty interesting crop of talent coming through. And there are those big contracts they just acquired (hello Dubie and Roy). I just feel like have to be on this train so I can say I was there to see how it all shakes out. History Witnessing type beat <3

and I'm SO endeared to Caps rituals. What little I've seen of them is so fun, so silly. Exactly my vibe. MUST a team "Play Hockey Well"?? can't they just be obsessed with each other . can't they torture and embarrass each other . being stressed about strange concepts such as ""Winning"" is so., passé .

Thank you again for dropping by and for the essay! and I'm sorry it took so long to get back to you, it was such a meal I was digesting it for days :>

extended thoughts/discussion under the cut.

From the outside looking in, I think can speak to how compelling it is to pit Crosby and Ovechkin against each other. As your ESPN article puts it: "Crosby was careful, corporate. Ovechkin was unpredictable, borderline dangerous. The key word was passion, and even though Crosby had it inside, Ovechkin oozed it. He was the anti-Sid, possibly the better player, and soon a cult hero." (x, y) I know you're frustrated by this, but they do sort of exist in relation to each other. Maybe I've fallen for the propaganda, but it's very literary <3 You could write their story down and present it to a novel studies class, and the easiest thread to pull on would be all the ways in which they're each other's narrative foils.

IF you held a gun to my head and made me guess at the 'why' of it, I'd probably agree with Eric Adelson! It really does feel like Crosby's image is who hockey wants to be seen as. A Good Canadian Boy; humble, no conspicuous expressions of his wealth, no partying, and of course no on-ice flash! I think I can understand the backlash somewhat; in such a team-oriented game, one with all these arcane honour codes and the emphasis on humility and respect and not rocking the boat, I could see why the spectacle of Ovechkin's personality would've grated. Crosby's an easier pill to swallow for the conservatism of hockey culture. (And I specified 'image' because there's the reality of what it is to be famous, deified, and torn apart each time you don't quite measure up. I hate to be the guy who says there's another side to this but, like, I'm sure plenty of people who are more familiar with Crosby's story could come out and tell me about the unique challenges that come with being considered The Next One.)

And obviously, your specific frustration is coming from the fact that Ovechkin is, somehow, seen as the inferior superstar, and that his achievements - which either equal or surpass Crosby's - go uncelebrated by mainstream media. and ough. man. I'm not as invested in this as you given I just got here, but your emotion is palpable!! I have... complicated feelings about his whole deal wrt geopolitics I won't lie, but I am serious about the whole "Is it the Russian thing?" I wouldn't, like, submit this as a legal document or anything, and I doubt I'd be the first to point it out, but there has to be a level of Othering that comes from his nationality, right?

So there's my thesis: he's not like them, he's not from there, and his image is not who they want for a star. Being so undeniably good for so long probably bought him some time in their good books, but the moment he looked a little bit mortal any grace they had to give was dispensed with. It sucks for you as a fan of course </3 I don't mean to sound so morbidly curious about it all,,, like i get that a real wrong was done to Ovechkin by the establishment that refused to recognise him!! But . well. I'm looking at this through a nonfiction writer's lens. I do hope someone who was there for the whole thing writes a book or two about this, because it would make for a really interesting story. I get the feeling people will look back on this stretch of time and think the world went a bit crazy for believing Alex Ovechkin was done.

[lackablazeical]

Addams! AU snippet 2: 'Lab'

FULL CREDIT TO WRITER NewFallenLeaves ON A03! SHE IS THE BIGGEST SUPPORTER OF THIS AU, AND IS INCREDIBLY TALENTED AND SWEET. GIVE HER A COMMENT, KUDO, SHARE, WHATEVER. MAKE HER DAY JUST A BIT BETTER, SHE DESERVES ALL THE LOVE!

This specific snippet had actually been inspired by some art! Im pretty sure I've posted it before, but might as well also include it too! (It is pretty old, forgive meeeee LOL)

Full snippet below the cut! ⬇️⬇️⬇️

-----

Donnie had the setup exactly how he wanted.

The rat specimen was pinned to the exam table, paws impaled and spread. Its belly fur was scraped clear and the bloated, pink flesh exposed. It had died in the trap before Donnie could get to it (thank you, Mikey, for setting the couch on fire again and delaying him.) So no vivisection. But that was fine, dissection was the next best thing. Especially of a pregnant rat, oh, giddy grin, he was going to get a whole clutter of partially-developed babies to experiment on! And with Mikey and Raph off in the tunnels and Leo traipsing around the Hidden City somewhere, Donnie finally had a quiet afternoon to himself.

He intended to make the most of it.

Swiveling the lamp so the lighting beamed down on the specimen, he curled his fingers in anticipation. The mechanical scalpel joint lined up just at the top of the rat’s throat, where he could cut a straight line to open the abdomen–

“Donnieeeeeeeeee!”

Leo burst through the double doors. He waltzed across the room and flung himself over the dissection table, swooning like a lady in the throes of a fainting spell.

“Wha–” Donnie grabbed for his tray of needles and surgical knives before it upended and strewed across the floor. “Nardo! You’re squishing my specimen!”

Leo fixed him with a dreamy, half-lidded gaze. “I just met somebody.”

Donnie glowered. This was the reason Leo had barged into his lab? To annoy him with ceaseless gushing over some new simpleton he’d decided to pursue?

“You’ll never believe it,” said Leo. “I rescued him instead of mugged him.”

Donnie shook the table. “Didn’t you hear me? Get off.”

“He was cornered. By two smelly thugs. They had these adorable little switch knives, trying to be all intimidating. Donnie, I’m telling you, it would have been pathetic that he got himself hemmed in like that, if his cowering wasn’t so adorable.”

“Nardo…”

“You should have seen how cute his face was, all covered in blood!” Leo kicked his feet. “Oh, I couldn’t help myself. Don’t worry, don’t worry, you’ll be so proud of me, I only licked him a little–”

“I don’t have time for this–”

“--so I’m sure he knows I’m a gentleman. Oh, it was such a good thing I was there, those brutes were so unsophisticated, they wouldn’t have done anything right–”

“Oh my god would you just shut up!” Donnie dragged his hands down his face, opening a sliver on his cheek as the scalpel on his finger caught flesh. “What level of disinterest and indignation do I need to achieve before you get it through your addled brain? I do not care.”

Leo’s smirk never wavered. He held up his hand, smudged deep with red, and waggled his fingers. “Wanna sample?”

Donnie opened his mouth to argue, then hesitated. He peered a little closer at the smear of not-yet-coagulated blood. “...it was a yokai?”

“Mmm-hmmmm.”

“What type?”

“One you don’t have any blood work for yet.” Leo’s grin widened. “Rabbit. Or bunny. If there’s a difference.”

The swab was in Donnie’s hand before he realized he’d made the decision to reach for one. He soaked up a dribble from Leo’s wrist and snagged a clean Petri dish. “Of course there’s no difference, why do you think the combination term ‘bunny rabbit’ exists? It’s a hare that comes from another genus. And what do you want, huh? You don’t just saunter in here and offer me free DNA for my trials for nothing.”

“Can’t I help my dear brother with his evil lab experiments out of the goodness of my heart?”

“As if you have one.”

Leo dissolved into giggles.

Donnie capped the dish and pulled a fresh label from the drawer. “So? Spill. What am I beholden to you for after this oh-so-generous and selfless donation?”

“Oh, you know. Age, blood type, zodiac sign, debilitating allergies or hypersensitivities. Aaaand if you happen to match those to any particular medical records and it leads to a place of employment or a home address…”

“Don’t you have enough stalking victims already?”

Leo hopped off the metal slab and pirouetted his way out the door. “No such thing.”

[rogerswifesblog]

The hat-rule

A/N: hi! Finally a post on this blog without being shadowbanned:p but you can still follow my other blog; @rogerswifesblog-updates I don’t remember how this idea come into my mind (probably some tiktok or smth) but I really hope you’ll enjoy it!!

Masterlist

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Cowboy!Reader (cowgirl?)

Summary: Steve puts readers hat on not knowing the rule behind his actions.

Warnings: alcohol consumption, the cowboy hat rule, reader is described rather curvy I’d say, blow job, female masturbation, squirting, cum eating, cum swallowing, male masturbation (?)

Cowboy hat rule: If you wear a cowboy'hat, you have to ride the cowboy!

It was a stupid idea, Steve thought. Going to a country club? He doesn’t even like that kind of music. But it also wasn’t his idea. It’s Clint’s turn to decide what they’re going to do on a Saturday night and that’s what he decided would be fun. Usually they made movie nights, cooking, baking or going out for drinks to some luxurious places (yeah, the last one is always on Tony).

„It’ll be fun, Cap. You can even ride the mechanic bull-we all should do it”, Clint grinned as they walked into the pub, he and Tony were wearing cowboy hats. They wanted Steve to wear one too, but he declined. It’s not really his thing. He rather wears his baseball cap, as low as possible, so nobody recognises him-even though he’s pretty sure with the other avengers this will happen either way.

Sighing, Steve shook his head. “Yeah, sure. I can do that if you leave me alone about the hat. I won’t wear one”, he mumbled, as they sat down at a free table. Steve immediately caught someone’s eye; a pretty young lady sitting at another table nearby. She was a cow…girl? At least that’s what he assumed since you were wearing a cowboy hat. A sweet smile crept onto your lips when you looked right at him meeting his gaze.

Steve felt a blush forming over his cheeks, giving you a short smile he quickly looked away, straight into the eyes of a smirking Natasha. Her gaze told him she knew something-even though he had no idea what. She was looking at him like a predator at its prey. Like a shark. A grin crept onto her lips. All teeth.

But she didn’t say anything. Instead she took out a flask, giving it to him. The smell alone told Steve it was Asgardian alcohol.

So that’s how this evening is going to be. Fine.

After they all ordered the drink Steve asked for a shot Glass for himself, too, which he received without questions about the mysterious flask. That’s one of the little perks of being an Avenger. Nobody asked questions…

While they were talking and drinking one shot after another, he forgot about the pretty girl next to them. Only meeting your gaze a few times, always smiling at each other. You even once lifted your shot at him, signalizing him to drink-and he did it. Tony noticed it, of course, teasing him about it. “Well, well, Capsicle. A cowgirl?”, but Steve ignored him, as Natasha stood up and grabbed his arm, pulling him with her.

“I dare you to ride the bull!” She knew Steve is always up for a challenge, so it didn’t surprise her when he took off his cap and jacket, throwing both in her open arms. “Watch me tame that beast”, he grinned, loud enough for the avengers and you to hear. The corners of your lips twitched and you put down your drink, to fully concentrate on the avengers that were walking closer to the mechanic bull, probably wanting to watch Steve and maybe try riding it themselves.

That’s gonna be a show.

The huge chunk of a man sat on the bull, not needing help getting onto its back. His cheeks wore a gentle blush, maybe from being tipsy or maybe from having this much attention from all the people around him.

When the bull started moving you immediately saw his legs tightening around it, his muscles flexing, thigh Firm and thick. You’d do anything to feel them thighten around your head…or riding one of his thighs, while he’d bounce it, moving his hands over your body, maybe squeezing your breasts…

You quickly shook these thoughts away, watching the blond still holding onto the bull, but seemingly struggling. Huh. You thought the Captain would be better than that-but before the 20th second could pass, Steve was thrown forward, falling right over the bulls head, landing on his but.

His gaze immediately fell to you, especially when he heard your soft, amused laugh. Once again he felt his blood rush to his face, making him blush a scarlet red. “Wow, Cap, you really show the bull how it’s done-“ Tony’s voice made him look at the man. “Well, yeah? Then do it better”, while Steve left the mats, Tony shrugged his suit jacket off. “You’ll be surprised Capsicle.”

All the Avengers tried riding the bull-Tony being thrown to the side only a bit after ten seconds, then Clint, who made a literal backflip when the bull started moving more suddenly-but he was longer on the bull than Steve, not really surprising anyone. Somehow everyone got used to Clint having weird skills, not knowing the reason for that. Especially not after seeing him pole dancing on an undercover mission.

“Come on, Nat, you should try it”, Clint grinned, but the redhead only laughed. “Yeah, no I’m good.”

Hearing that the Avengers were done, you stood up and walked straight up to the bull. “Then let me show you how to really tame the bull”, with that you hopped onto the bull, not even grabbing the rope. The guy operating the bull laughed loudly. “Well, our record holder, I see. Let’s not make it easy for you”, he tipped his head to you, Turing in the bull.

You’ve ridden the mechanic animal so many times, it’s not even a real challenge anymore. Your hips moved smoothly, sliding along with every move, thrusting forward…making Steve imagine your body naked, riding him. Sinking on his dick, sliding forward and back on his dick, your hands grabbing his pecks, maybe pinching his nipple lightly. Fuck. Thank god he was sitting with his jacket in his lap, otherwise he’d give the other people around him a bigger show than before.

He couldn’t stop his dick from tenting his jeans, as he watched your breasts jiggle with every movement, your ass bounce as the bull started shaking from side to side. With you bending forward he could look right into your cleavage. His dick twitched, while he couldn’t tear away his eyes from your breasts. Fuck, they looked so soft. If you’d let him fuck these? Maybe you’d wrap your plump lips around the leaking head of his cock.

Looking up you noticed Steve staring at you, squirming in his seat. He was observing you like a tiger. A hungry tiger, watching his prey.

Without thinking twice you grabbed your hat throwing it to Steve, who caught it out of reflex. The people around him immediately started cheering, Clint and Tony telling him to put it on, which seemed to confuse him.

And then he did it.

Some people that saw the interaction clapped their hands, Tony whistled and Steve just looked confused to Nat. She only grinned cheekily. Then Clint clapped him on the shoulder and Steve was totally puzzled.

…What just happened?

After a few more seconds you jumped down from the bull, walking straight up to him. Sitting, he had to look up at you, with the few inches you had now over him. Putting his hands on his wide shoulders, you stroked over them, massaging him gently. “You know what they say, Captain…wear the hat, ride the cowboy-or, well cowgirl in this case”, you purred in his ear. Of course, others still heard it. Especially Tony, who had been listening curiously as soon as you stepped up to Steve.

The color that was slowly coming back to normal on Steve's cheeks turned once again a dark red shade, creeping from under his button down right to the very end of his ears. “E-excuse me? I don’t know what you’re talking about, ma’am, I’m sorry for taking your hat-my friend told me to wear it-I’m really sorry, ma’am”, Steve rambled, not understanding what you were talking about. Riding? You? Were you talking about…sex? Was he this obvious with his attraction towards you? Oh god, was he being a creep???

Your soft chuckle made him look back at you, not even having noticed he started nervously looking around. “Stevie, you have no idea what it means to wear this hat, huh?”, he shook his head, slowly taking off the hat and offering it back to you. You took it in your head, but put it back on his head instead of yours. “Wear the hat, ride the cowboy. It’s exactly what you think it is”, you grinned and it looked like Steve’s blush darkened if that was still possible.

His mouth agape, eyes big and curious roaming over your face…his hands slowly finding your waist and pulling you a bit closer. “So we-should we go now to your place? I’d like to-you know-do…it”, Steve mumbled, nervously playing with the hem of your shirt. You took his hand and pulled him up from his seat. Now, needing to look up at him, you winked at the man. “My place isn’t far away. Let’s get going and…I’ll show you some real riding”, with that you took your jacket from your booth, hearing as the avengers teased Steve. “I can’t believe we help Cap to get laid tonight-” “-don’t forget to use protection-“ “you’ll better endure longer than with the bull-” “hopefully you won’t get a heart attack old man-“

You couldn’t hear the rest after closing the pub doors and leaving the building. For a moment only sounds were coming from the cars passing by and people chatting, while you two walked the path, your arm around his, holding onto him.

“I’m Y/N”, you mumbled, only now noticing you haven’t introduced yourself yet. At least not properly. You knew who he was, probably most people in the pub knew it, but everyone was respectful and wouldn’t annoy them with autographs and pictures. In the end, the Avengers were just people. Well, maybe Tony Stark was…a bit different. But it’s Tony stark. Everyone knew him like that.

“It’s nice to meet you, I’m-well, you know who I am”, he sighed, making you look up at him, a small smile creeping onto your lips. “You’re Steve-an awful bull-rider if you ask me”, this made him chuckle lightly and he pulled you a bit closer against him.

Steve smiled at you for a moment, before kissing your head, making the two of you giggle. A few moments later you stopped at your complex building, taking out your key. “Here we are”, you grinned, already imagining Steve’s hands on your body, his lips on your skin…suckling and licking at your soft spot at your throat. God, you couldn’t stop thinking about it all. But he stopped smiling, pulling away from you and looking down at the footpath.

“I…I’m not- I usually don’t do stuff like that, you should know”, he mumbled, his hands buried deep in his pockets. Was he talking about bull riding? Because you could see it, without him needing to clarify that. And you didn’t mind. “It’s okay. I’m not making fun of you, don’t worry-I mean, I’d rather made fun of Stark. He looked silly, you looked…well, pretty good”, Steve still seemed unsure and not amused, which made you furrow your eyebrows. A few seconds ago he was laughing? What happened?

Gently taking his hand out of his pocket, interlocking them you pulled Steve against you. Your other hand stroking over his cheek. “What is it Steve?”, you asked quietly. You could clearly see the blush still lingering on his pale skin.

He put his hand gently over yours, squeezing. “It’s-its the first time I left with someone-I mean I’m- I have done it but never with a stranger-not that I would mind if, because you’re really pretty and fuck-so sexy and hot-oh god, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to-I mean-god I don’t even know what I’m saying at this point. It’s like my brain to mouth filter doesn’t work, Jesus, I’m so sorry”, he rambled, shaking his head.

When he looked back at you, you were grinning amused. All teeth, even with pretty dimples and little happy wrinkles surrounding your eyes. “Steve, we don’t have to do anything…we can just go up, sit down and watch a movie. I’ll make us something to eat…we don’t even have to kiss”, you reassured him.

Only then did he smile lightly before nodding. “But….I’d really like to kiss you”, it was only a whisper, barely audible. It still made your whole heart flutter, butterflies trying to erupt from under your skin, everything tingling…

God, did this man even know how pretty he was when smiling?

A second later Steve leaned down, giving you a gentle peck on the lips. Unsure and hastily, yet it still managed to make your breath hitch.

Blushing Steve watched you for a moment, before once again kissing you, this time longer. A slow soft kiss, not erotic just…gentle. It’s like he was kissing you for the purpose of kissing, not to indicate anything sexual. It was really…nice. To be kissed like that.

Your hand found his neck, pulling him a bit closer, the hat on his head slowly sliding down. You couldn’t stop the grin forming on your lips, while you pulled back and pushed the head in its place. “Let’s get inside. It’s getting cold”, you whispered, feeling your own blood rush to your cheeks.

After entering your apartment, you took off your boots, Steve doing the same with his shoes toeing them off. You shook your head lightly, grinning at the grown ass man, toeing off his shoes like a child. He shrugged, pulling you closer against him. “Don’t say anything. My mom hated it when I did that”, he grinned, not even noticing sharing such a memorie with a total stranger.

Laughing, you went to the kitchen to grab two beers. Of course Steve followed you like a lost puppy, looking around your apartment curiously. “Oh this is pretty”, Steve said, looking at one of your paintings. “Thanks, it’s…just a little hobby of mine”, you said smiling. Steve’s eyes immediately light up. “I love drawing too! And painting! What paint do you use?”

That’s how you two started talking about art supplies and other stuff, Steve having more knowledge than you, but still being patient and explaining everything to you. At this point you were both sitting on the couch, close enough for your thighs to touch.

Taking another sip of your beer your gaze fell to Steve’s head, still wearing your hat. Was he even aware of it? A small smile crept onto your lips. Steve followed your gaze, or tried to, looking up cross eyed. “Oh, I’m sorry”, he blushed, taking off his hat. His hair was sticking out in every direction, which he quickly tried to brush over with his hand. “You look cute with it”, you grinned, shrugging. You grabbed the hat again, putting it on his disheveled hair.

Only then did you notice how close you two were. His breathing against your soft skin…when did his hands land on your waist? Instead of pulling away you slowly stroking with your hand over his cheek and slowly down to his neck. Steve could hear your heartbeat quicken, when he slowly pulled you on his lap. His lips and nose caressing along your skin.

Then you felt his lips press against yours, kissing you gently, but hungry. His tongue exploring your mouth, kissing your teeth. A low moan escaped his lips when he felt your hips press against his bulge. “Fuck”, he whispered, slowly kissing down your neck, while grabbing your hips and grinding his arousal against your crotch, making you gasp. He felt big, even though he wasn’t even fully hard yet.

You reached with one hand to his zipper, slowly opening it, before pulling the pants a bit down with Steve’s help. While stroking his clothed cock you could feel him hardening beneath your palm. Your other hand started opening his button down.

“Fuck, you’re so gorgeous”, you whispered, leaning down and licking over one of his rosy nipples, listening to Steve’s moans, while he bucked into your palm. His tip had already left a wet spot on his boxer shorts from all the pre cum.

One of his hands grabbed your hair, pulling you in another bruising kiss, your lips already feeling raw from all the kissing. His grip on your hair tightened, while he grabbed your hand with the other one and guided you in his boxershorts, where he wrapped your hand around his cock.

Fuck.

Your fingers didn’t touch. They didn’t close around his girth. He was long, probably long enough to touch your cervix. Holy Jesus. You traced the vines with your fingers. You weren’t setted with just your imagination, so you broke up the kiss and looked down at his dick in your hand. “Fuck-wanna suck you off, steve. Please let me do that”, you nearly whined, already sliding down from his lap.

If you had to be honest with yourself, you weren’t sure if you’d get him fully in your mouth-and if you did, then your jaw would hate you for that. You could already feel the pain. Yet it didn’t stop you.

As soon as your knees hit the floor, you started licking his tip, circling his slit, before letting him glide in your mouth. You didn’t want to tease him. You couldn’t. You had to feel him.

When you started to bob your head, you felt how your pussy started throbbing. Fuck, you’ve never been this hot for someone you just met. Opening your own pants you pushed your hand beneath your panties, already finding your pussy wet. Drenched. When you started circling your clit a moan escaped your lips, making Steve’s hips buck into your mouth. “Fuck-“, he grabbed your hair, pushing your head a bit lower. His cock hit your gag reflex, but with Steve’s movements he pushed past it, his dick filling your throat.

The slightly rougher treatment makes you even wetter, two of your fingers sliding easily in your cunt with a squelch. Steve chuckled at that. “My little slut, getting worked up while sucking my dick, huh?”, he whispered, moving your head over his dick like he pleased. And you let him.

You’d let him do anything and everything to you at this point.

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of dick. You only looked up at him, while he fucked your face like toy.

You really hadn’t expected him to turn into a rough dom, after being all shy and unsure the whole evening long. Somehow this made it all even better. And you wetter.

“Baby-fuck, I’m going to fill your pretty mouth-you’d like that, huh? I can tell you’re desperate to have my cum fill your pretty mouth”, he mumbled, his thrusts becoming harder, his dick hitting your throat more often.

Your movements of your fingers quickened too and you started rubbing your clit furiously, feeling your orgasm approach, while Steve was chasing his own, fucking your face without a care.

The mix of Steve’s pre cum and your saliva was dripping down your chin and onto his balls, even some of it on his pants. It was messy. Filthy even.

A moan escaped you, muffled by Steve’s cock, when you finally came, drenching your own fingers while you squirted over your hand, your legs trembling with the intensity of your orgasm. “Oh fuck sweetheart-“, with that Steve pressed your head down, your nose hitting his pelvic, while he grinded against your face, his cum floating your mouth and throat. He slowly pulled your head away, but you felt how his tip was still twitching and spurting more cum. God, how much could he cum?

He pulled his whole shaft out, only leaving the tip between his lips. “Swallow sweetheart, Daddy wants to feed you some more”, if you could come just from words, this would be definitely it.

Steve started stroking his dick, not moving your head, still having the mushroom head between your lips. You looked up at him, still circling your clit gently, before pulling your hand out of your pants, which Steve quickly grabbed and pulled to his lips, licking and sucking your fingers clean. “Mm, so good, baby. Cant wait to have a taste from the source”, he grinned, making you whine quietly against his dick.

After a few more strokes you felt his cum flood your mouth, while Steve’s head fell back, a load moan escaping his lips, while he milked his cock in your mouth. You felt his tip leaving some cum on your lips when he pulled away, his dick slapping against his abdomen, still hard. “Swallow, sweetheart”, he grinned lazily. You did as told, showing him your empty mouth, sticking out your tongue, while you leaned to his dick again, licking around the head. “Such a good girl, fuck”, he whispered, grinding his dick against your face, before pulling you by the hair and away from his cock, back on his lap.

Your hat was still on his head, just a bit crooked, so you adjusted it a bit, which wasn’t necessary since Steve pulled you in another kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth, chasing his own taste.

“How many times can you go?”, you whispered against his lips, stroking over his hard cock again.

A devilish grin appeared on his lips.

“Wanna find out?”

Well, thank you for reading 👀 I hope you enjoyed it<3 don’t forget to like, comment and reblog! Leave some feedback!

Tags: @inlovewithchrisevans

Wanna be tagged? Message me<3

[criticallyacclaimedstranger]

Could you please please pleaaaaase write a one shot about Frankie taking care of a very tipsy and fun reader?

💖 u

Aww, dear anon, right back at you!

I haven't written anything on request in ages, but here we go... I don't know how fun it is, but I hope you'll enjoy it!

Frankie x reader/you (cishet female)

Warnings: Alcohol mention, intoxication.

Frankie's truck is a little higher than your sedan and that's usually not a problem for you, but now you're finding it somewhat challenging to climb aboard.

"Do I need to come around and give you a push?" Frankie chuckles as he, with great amusement, watches your endeavors. You finally slide into the seat and try to look dignified.

"I'm quite all right."

"Are you drunk?" He's doing his best to sound like an accusatory father, but fails miserably as he's too concerned with your actual well-being to try to pretend to be someone who would scold you for having a fun night out with your friends.

"I hope so, I sure drank enough," you quip and launch into a fit of giggles.

"Walked right into that one," Frankie sighs, shaking his head before reaching over to you for a kiss, then smacking his lips with a teasing little grimace.

"Okay, I'm not kissing you again until we get home. The alcoholic fumes alone are going to make me unfit to drive."

"Aw, you're no fun..."

"Buckle up, baby," he tells you as he does the same. "There's a bottle of water in the glove box."

You gratefully take out the bottle and drink greedily. Frankie watches you, one hand on the steering wheel, waiting until you've screwed the cap back on, and fastened your seatbelt. Only then does he start the car and turn onto the street.

"Did you have a good time?"

"Oh yeah," you yawn, tired but smiling big. The seat of Frankie's old truck is like a familiar hug, and you're starting the feel the time of the night. "It was good. Good food, good drinks, good company."

"What did you do?"

"Oh, just had dinner and drinks, nothing much."

"Really?" Frankie glances at you with a raised eyebrow, one that you can barely catch with your slightly blurry vision.

"What?" You try to sound innocent.

"So you did not go to a karaoke bar?"

"Not that I can recall."

"And you didn't perform?"

"You know me, I'd never sing in front of an audience," you remind him, seeing where this is going and still trying to save face.

"I know that, baby," he throws you a loving smile before hitting you with exhibit A.

"Because I saw something on Lily's Instagram."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you hiccup discreetly, taking another swig of the water. Frankie keeps his cool, as well as his eyes on the road.

"Besides," you add, "Instagram, what do you mean Instagram, you don't have Instagram!"

"Yes, I do," he reminds you, one finger rising on the steering wheel for a little wag. "I just never use it."

"So you just decided to use it when I was out?"

"I missed you," he shrugs, "I wanted to see you having fun. Figured someone would post something."

You want to give him a severe lecture on the harrowing deprivation of liberty and agency that men subject their female partners to, but the alcohol has rendered you simple-minded, so instead you say:

"Aww... babe..."

"Don't try to change the subject," your man points out, lifting your hand off his thigh where it mysteriously just appeared. You roll your eyes and slump back against the backrest.

"Okay so we may have gone to a karaoke bar..."

"Yes."

"And I may have sung something..." A smile begins to spread on your face.

"You did."

"But it was one song, and that was it." You can barely hold back your giggles now.

"You grabbed the mic and yelled This one goes out to my man Francisco, the man with the golden tongue! And then you sang Whatta Man, except you changed the chorus to whatta mighty good tongue!"

You burst out laughing, pressing your thighs together to avoid peeing yourself.

"It... was... a hit!" you wheeze, wiping the tears from your eyes. Frankie just shakes his head, but he's starting to grin as well.

"You enjoy your fun now," he states calmly. "You won't be laughing tomorrow when you're hung over."

"Worth it," you slur a little, suddenly feeling sleepy.

"I'm glad." Now his voice is soft, and he reaches for your hand. You put it in his, and he squeezes it slightly.

"Take me home," you yawn.

"A few miles left."

You start to blink against the passing streetlights, headlights, billboards. Nodding off a little, your head jerks up when something catches your attention. Jolting forward, you slam your hands to the dashboard and yell WAIT STOP!

Frankie exclaims a Holy shit! and has enough sense to check his rearview mirror before hitting the brakes. He turns his head to you, eyes wide as he scans you for injury or any other distress.

"Baby?"

"Look!" you gape, pointing to the side of the road. He follows your finger to the alluring, purple lights of an all-night, drive-thru Taco Bell.

"What?" he prompts, still not following.

"I want Taco Bell, let's go to Taco Bell!"

He shifts his gaze back at you, incredulous.

"You realize that you screamed at me to pump the brakes in the middle of the road - for terrible tacos?"

"They're not terrible and I'm starving!"

"Jesus fucking Christ," Frankie sighs deeply as he hits the turn signal and gets off the road, taking the entrance to the Taco Bell parking lot. "You are a goddamn menace, sweetheart."

"That's what you love about me," you giggle, tiredness forgotten at the prospect of the biggest burrito meal you can have. Frankie drives up to the microphone box to order, needing only a glance at the menu to know what you want, skillfully managing to keep you from crawling over onto his lap in an attempt to meddle in his order.

"Do I have to tie you down in your seat?" he grumbles without vehemence as he maneuvers his truck towards the pick-up window.

"Please do," you bat your eyelashes at him, and he has the decency to laugh at himself.

"Set you up for that one."

You get your food, and drive the last mile home. By the time Frankie pulls into the driveway, you're asleep in your seat, one arm around the Taco Bell takeout bag next to you.

[goldenchocobo]

After some thought, and a lot of planning, I’ve finally decided to post my interpretation of what the Wayfinder Trio’s outfit would look like, if they needed to blend in to save the world order; starting with Ventus. I did try to fit all three on here, but it was very, very cluttered. 

Terra and Aqua will be posted soon, so don’t worry.

I didn’t draw Radiant Garden as it seems their style of dress; although unusual is still acceptable- as well as possibly the inhabitants already knowing of other worlds on account of Scrooge McDuck being there (and outright stating to Ventus that he’s from another world). Its the same reason I didn’t draw Disney Town either, as well- scrooge is originally from there, and the King certainly travels about, so most, if not all residents would know about other worlds

Terra

Aqua

Keep Reading for more info inspiration;

Dwarf woodlands: I based Ven’s design mostly on the Prince and the Hunter; with the obvious Black and White colour choice that Ven wears, with the red accent being a feather in his cap instead. The boots have kept Ven’s small ankle armour-piece, but are more so stylized on the Huntsman’s.

Castle of Dreams: I always wondered why he wasn’t a mouse in the first place, especially since Cinderella called him one- so I did the right thing and turned him into a mouse. His clothing mostly stays the same, but I changed his shoes to be more like Jacque's.

Enchanted Dominion: Again, I looked to the Prince of Sleeping Beauty for Ven’s design and gave him a really long cape with his Mark as a clasp and tan tunic. Its not the clearest here, but the white section of the cape is longer than the black. His boots are in a similar situation to Dwarf woodland’s, only based on the Prince’s.

Neverland: I made him part of the Lost Boys and have him a rabbit costume! If you’ve followed me for these past few years, you may know why I chose a rabbit; but if you don’t, look to my now almost three year old His Dark Materials AU Post on the Way finder Trio. I kept his X-shaped bands to help break up the monotony of his white shirt and kept his armour-piece as well.

Deep Space: I wasn’t sure what to do first, and thought about ‘alien-fy’ing the trio, but decided against it, as the ‘world’ is already travelling through deep space, so instead, I kept Ven’s Keyblade armour, but stripped it of its ‘armour-y’ parts leaving just a space-suit-esq look.

Olympus: Ven’s wearing a black and white toga with his mark as a clasp, like young Hercules. I kept his shoulder armour-piece but got rid of the rest that went down the length of his arm to better stream line it. He’s also wearing capped sandals. 

[whatiwishfanfiction]

Chapter Five is up!

Preview:

It’s rare that a fantasy comes true just as you’re fantasizing about it, but that’s just what happened when Once-ler’s wagon rolled over the next hill. Not only did the scene happen to be extraordinary, but it came at such a coincidental time of desperate wishfulness that Once-ler was ripped straight from his daydreams and his eyes filled with tears immediately.

PEACE! FREEDOM! INSPIRATION! it screamed all at once.

Such a heavy feeling of serenity and joy descended upon his soul that he knew immediately he was where he was meant to be. It took less than a second to decide this was home, and he would never change his mind for the rest of his days. A smile spread across his face, the kind that was so big it hurt.

The valley he overlooked was a forest, but not like the forest at home. He’d never dreamed a forest could be so different. Where the one behind his farm was small, dry, and gray, the one below stretched beyond the horizon, filled with the brightest green grass and dark blue water full of lily pads, duckweed, and cattails.

Wispy trees and bushes bloomed with pink, yellow, and orange silken foliage that filled his nose with sugary sweetness. Instead of being empty and boring, as if animals would rather be anywhere less desolate, it buzzed with bees, butterflies, frogs, and fish he could see even from his vantage atop the highest hill. A sense of adventure and endless discovery pierced his heart as Once-ler's wagon rolled deeper down into Heaven.

So this was how forests were supposed to be. Every choice he’d made up to that point had been right after all, if it had led him to this. When the wagon reached the bottom of the hill, the yodels died on his lips, and he threw his guitar in the back. “Come on, Melvin,” he said, leading the mule along. The forest only became more interesting from there.

Ho-li-ah Ho-le-rah-hi-hi-ah Ho-le-rah-cuckoo Fol-de-rol, laddie right Toor-a-lie-addy

“Wait, who’s singing? Oh, wow!” Once-ler stood in awe as he watched a trio of fat yellow and orange fish dancing atop a rock, using their fins as legs. They held hands, spinning with their eyes closed, occasionally kicking out their fins or breaking away to do an Irish jig.

“Bizarre,” he said, checking over his shoulder just in case it was some kind of trick. “Does anyone else even know this exists?”

A yellow butterfly soared past with wings the size of book pages. The dark spots on its wings looked like a cow's. It landed on a flower where a frog strolled by on its hind legs and started milking it into an acorn cap.

"Oh my goodness!" Once-ler hopped up and down. "I think I just stumbled upon a completely undiscovered habitat!" After his life at home, he'd begun to think there was no such thing as anything new or exciting.

"Magnificent," he said, tears filling his eyes as a swarm of orange swans flew over his head under sun-tinted clouds. They soared, then dipped, taking a dive alongside a waterfall that roared ominously.

~*~

Follow me for the rest of the rewrite! (I'm going to post new chapters every week).

I can't wait to get to the part about the Lorax. I'm going to write him so much differently than the movie that made him a useless smart aleck. I always thought he should be more mysterious and fae-like. Gonna try to make it like something Tolkien or Holly Black would write. This story is really fun to write!

[yuutsunaoi-writes]

“𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙙𝙨 𝙤𝙧 𝙖𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 - 𝙞𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙 𝙞𝙩 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙡𝙡 𝙤𝙗𝙫𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙘𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙢𝙚.”

or rewriting boboiboy windara episode 3 animation because it strays too far from the comic by merging both the animation and comic plot.

a/n: i feel like it’s too short to be posted on ao3 so here it is on tumblr!! (actually could be a part of tls around ying’s pov but shhh i purposefully wrote it like so but shhh ^^)

They landed on a what-seemed-to-be deserted place with nowhere to go, and just like the barren place, so was Fang’s mind.

He knew Boboiboy was overwhelmed with guilt - yet what exactly was he supposed to do to comfort his friend?

Fang was no stranger to seeing Boboiboy losing hope a little. More often than not, Boboiboy would break down mid-battle, and then Gopal would do his magic with his words, Yaya and Ying would enforce those words by saying more words, and Fang would place a comforting hand on Boboiboy’s shoulder before sealing it with a ‘you can count on us!’ line.

It worked wonders all the time, as Boboiboy would regain his courage and then beat the tough opponent they were facing.

However, this time, there were no Gopal, Yaya, nor Ying to be speaking up and saying the right words.

So now all the talking was left to him - which sucked because talking was not his forte!

Sure, he had known Boboiboy long enough, and he knew Boboiboy saw him as a close friend, but Fang still doubted that his words could have the same impact as Gopal’s who had known Boboiboy longer than Fang did!

Hence, hesitant of stringing words he himself wasn’t even sure of, Fang frantically looked around for some kind of distraction that could help Boboiboy to at least quiet down the what-Fang-was-sure-of guilty and foolish thoughts in the capped teen’s head.

His savior came in the form of some smoke, and he quickly pointed at it and informed Boboiboy of it, hoping this would help Boboiboy to stop dwelling in his misplaced guilt and instead focus on what’s around him - on Fang.

Fang hoped Boboiboy knew Fang was trying his best to comfort the capped teen.

At Fang’s words, the fog in Boboiboy’s eyes lifted a little, replaced with slight resignation as a stiff smile adorned his face while he said that they should ask for some food too. (Fang pursed his lips in disapproval when Boboiboy admitted to have skipped meals, but he decided it wasn’t the right time to address the topic.)

Still, despite it being a stiff smile, it was a smile nonetheless, and Fang was determined to turn it into a sincere one - which led him to suddenly crack a joke about how Boboiboy should have eaten something like awesome him had done.

Only to blush in embarrassment when his own stomach growled.

It was embarrassing - but it pulled a smile and a small giggle from Boboiboy.

Fang considered that as a win.

So the two of them made their way to the source of the smoke, and while it was true that the smok was indeed a sign of someone living there, they haven’t really considered the part of who exactly were living there: allies or foes.

The people who lived there had a young leader - a kid - acting as the one who gave out orders that went by the name Papileon.

They had just gotten to Kampung Kepaku, yet they were quickly dragged to Kepaku Park instead after Boboiboy and Fang had explained how they had gotten there.

There were children playing around in the park, and Fang was quick to understand that something had happened to the children - saved for Tok Liam, who was too old that the tyrant chose to not care for as the old man would not be helpful in the mines due to his limited energy and strength. (Tok Liam mentioned something about how he looked familiar, but he dismissed it with a thoughtful look soon after.)

The four of them were brought to a secluded part of the park, passing by a couple of kids in the process - kids who all seemed happy and joyous.

It was odd - did they not know of the dire situation and the obvious fact that the adults - their parents - were being used to mine every hour of the day mercilessly without proper care by the tyrant?

Tok Liam had been explaining what was happening along their journey about what had happened, and continued to do so while Boboiboy and Fang filled their stomachs with the food they had.

Papileon didn’t seem to like Boboiboy and Fang very much, but that was solved when she managed to strike a deal with the duo to help save the adults who were forced to mine in exchange for the food that the duo had just eaten. (She also said she would find them a way to reach their friends - which made them all the more sure of their decision to agree with her bargain.)

Like a whole different person, Papileon started opening up to them, and explained that she purposefully moved over the children left to Kepaku Park to distract the children from their parents’ absence - to stop them from barging into danger to save their parents and possibly endangering themselves.

“Distraction doesn’t last forever, but I rather have them smiling than crying from feeling helpless because they couldn’t do anything to save their parents.” Papileon had said - and Fang could see how both him and Boboiboy whole-heartedly understood Papileon’s words.

Boboiboy promised Papileon that they would do anything in their power to help her with her plans to save the adults, and Papileon gave a weak smile in response.

For a child; Papileon was very level-headed and matured.

Eventually, the four of them set to go to the mines, and there they fought with Muskida who they managed to beat after a quite tough battle.

Still, they came out as the winner, and while Muskida unfortunately managed to escape, everyone was saved.

It was then did Tok Liam pulled Fang to the side and suddenly gave him a proud smile along with a hug that had him going rigid from how unfamiliar yet familiar the hug was.

Apparently, Tok Liam knew of Fang’s parents, and it took all of Fang’s might to stop himself from crying right then and there.

He rarely talked about his late-parents - so the sudden topic being brought up was enough to hit a spot in his heart, peeling at the still-healing injury a little.

Unfortunately, there was no time to catch up, as Papileon, true to her words, told them that she knew of a way for them to contact the friends they were separated from.

While Boboiboy was speaking to Yaya through the screen after successfully establishing a stable connection, Fang felt himself feeling relieved that Boboiboy was in a good enough shape mentally and physically to last through everything that had happened despite only having Fang as a support - a support who’s not very good with words, unfortunately.

Yaya told them they would go there to pick them up, and that they should take a rest first at Kampung Kepaku so that they were well-rested before their confrontation with Reramos.

Hence why they found themselves being given a room by Papileon who insisted that they should rest after using so much of their energy. (She also said something about a short celebration party for the plan being successful, but Fang was too exhausted to pay attention - at least Boboiboy seemed to be paying attention.)

When they were left alone by themselves, Fang had wanted to just hit the pillow and sleep, but as his eyes landed on Boboiboy who had a faraway look in his eyes, he scrambled for something to say to provide some kind of comfort and reassurance for his friend.

However, before he could, Boboiboy suddenly looked up to him, and Fang found that his heart started hammering in his chest at the tender look in his friend’s eyes - eyes that were looking at him.

Fang wasn’t really used to such eyes - especially from Boboiboy who played the role as a rival in Fang’s life.

“Thank you for being so considerate and patient with me, Fang.” Boboiboy had said sincerely, eyes crinkling in the corners and doing nothing to soothe Fang’s heartbeat.

“I- I didn’t really do anything. You did most of it yourself.” Fang replied, and while he knew that the two of them did everything together and that Boboiboy thanking him made sense, Fang felt like he just… had to do something to reassure Boboiboy that they couldn’t have gotten this far without Boboiboy.

Perhaps to remind Boboiboy that Boboiboy was anything but the one who was at fault for what had been happening in Windara.

Boboiboy shook his head from side to side, as if fond, before he gave yet another smile that had Fang fighting the redness in his cheeks.

“I’m thanking you because I know you’ve been struggling to try and console me. It’s nice; knowing you care and seeing you trying hard to make sure I’m okay.

It’s nice to see those words or actions - in the end it is still obvious you care and worry for me. No matter how awkward you are about it.”

The capped teen laughed a little at Fang by the end of his sentence, but Fang couldn’t find it in him to get mad and refute - because above anything else, right now he felt like he had achieved it.

He managed to be a good friend to Boboiboy.

Fang fell asleep soon after once Boboiboy had stopped pestering him about ‘being so sweet’. (It was a very good sleep - one that had Fang feeling fresh and anew after waking up from it.)

After participating in the short celebration, Yaya, Gopal, Ying and Maripos came to pick the duo up, and Fang was eager to add the achievement of saving Windara’s hands from the reign of Reramos on top of his ‘managed to be a good friend’ achievement.

[ca-suffit]

my inbox got *so* quiet the last couple days but then I noticed something interesting.

almost everything was about sam or lestat again

then look at how virginia is posting now

and this

this side has always needed to pretend this is about something else so they don't have to talk about fandom racism. some of the asks I got might have been real but the timing of this feels sus. trying to get me to talk shit about sam but when I didn't post anything for days u decided to get the gossip rolling urself? that's what this is lol. faked outrage to stir the pot. u have to subtly aim at black fans again and also go deeper into ur weird parasocial sam reid feelings so u feel important and loved. wtf.

didn't u all send sam a fan art book and other stuff ur always being loud about cuz he mentioned having it in interviews a few times? don't u visit him on sets and tell him u luv him all the time (I've seen the posts lol). he's fucking with u so u will watch the show more and react just like this lol idiots.

the last fangs psa post also tried to pretend it was about this

the craziest thing about this tho is that after she was done aiming at the black and brown fans, she posts a big part about this white guy *with a lestat icon* but.............now it's about race??

isn't it weird how they can't keep to one story lol. it's all about hating lestat except for when u can't use that against a white lestat fan u wish would stfu so u pull the "I'm black" card instead and then reveal u have no friends lol.

this has never been about lestat or sam. it's an excuse because they don't have the range to speak about why lestat being judged for his ignorant white shit feels uncomfortable to them (especially if they want to fuck him, cuz I'm p sure fangs does). they get off power tripping on telling white fans it's okay to do racist shit if u hate the "right" ppl. her and keybearer are the first to do dumb shit to alienate themselves but blame everyone else for it. then cry to white fandom for hugs because they know how easy it is to get white ppl to feel good about shit if u stroke the fires of antiblackness in them. nobody is kicking u out of spaces unless ur doing some fuckshit but white ppl only hear "I'm black and ppl are being mean to me :(" and then rush to do the most racist shit ever because u just gave them a "good" excuse to do it. if a lot of black ppl are defending a white person who talks about antiblackness and ur the only black person saying that's wrong? u are the one who is the problem! especially because fangs and keybearer are both *not* american and nearly everyone from "this subset" is......and that is also the show's focus, that is louis' struggle! not to mention how fangs got upset about *this* in the cap but then had no issue pulling out talk of the fucking palestine genocide on a black american fan, to say that black americans don't suffer oppression. is this the real reason nobody likes ur bitch ass, mayhaps?

them being unable to let anyone know peace because of their own bad feelings is the most annoying thing. the show hits u over the head with the "memory is a monster" thing. we *know* we're gonna be seeing different versions of ppl and events and that's alot of what makes it interesting and fun. it's insane u keep pretending we're ignorant to this, as if u *also* haven't been crying for years now about "wait until lestat tells his side!!!!" we have fucking heard ur annoying asses jfc. WE KNOW.

but u have these ppl who can't hear a word against their fav without pulling out the books and showing u some sad lestat passage to change ur mind. girl shut up idc?? can't u let ppl like things as they come gd. what's the harm in enjoying the journey. u assholes are always saying ur so smart but then u have tantrums that the show isn't on book 12 already and ppl don't luv lestat enough yet. who tf cares? he's literally all the tags are whenever a 2 second clip shows up in any S2 thing rn, what are u even complaining about.

fucking crazy that this is louis' story but the focus is always on why isn't lestat getting more attention, why do ppl hate lestat, why is everyone mean to lestat. nobody frames it like that because then u'd v easily understand how stupid and racist this shit rly is. when u speak up in defense about any black character they literally accuse u of being the woke mob but ok lol. "did u listen to what jacob *a black man* said about the character being a crazy liar, sweetie??" (example 1, example 2) this shit is so obvious.

[blackjackkent]

Followup conversation with Shadowheart, post-All-of-That-Nonsense.

"My parents. I saw them, spoke to them... and let them go. It's... it's more than I can take in just now. Give me a night, to try and get my head together."

OK, so not really a conversation, just a line, but still. Poor Shadowheart. :( Jennifer English does a tremendous job with these moments where Shadowheart's really conflicted or upset; she gets this little catch in her voice that makes me want to pick her (Shadowheart, that is, though maybe Jennifer English too, idk) up and take her somewhere safe where she won't have to make that sound anymore.

Hector feels really terrible about the whole business, and there are a lot of layers as to why.

a) Shadowheart is upset, and Shadowheart is his friend and sorta-kinda-protege(?) and does not deserve all the shit that Shar has put her through. b) Shadowheart has met and lost her parents simultaneously. Hector has never known his and can't decide if that's better or worse, because there was still something oddly compelling about the expression of pride that her father gave her before he died. c) Hector has met Shar in the "flesh", spoken to her directly - the precise manifestation of everything he was trained to fight against. (And meanwhile, his own goddess has never once spoken to him directly.) d) On some level, even though Shadowheart is free of the curse, this feels like Shar has won simply by the amount of pain she has caused Shadowheart. e) According to the dogma Hector was raised with, it should be considered a victory for Selune instead! She has two new martyrs! Shar's curse has been thwarted! But he can take no satisfaction in that because of what it did to his friend in the process.

Let's get the fuck out of here. Quick glance around the room first.

The only thing of major significance in here is the Mirror of Loss at the back of the room, which presumably was the mirror used to steal away Shadowheart's memories repeatedly:

Narrator: A huge, polished disc looms before you. A mirror - one used by the Sharrans to plunder memories from the minds of others.

"This feels familiar to me somehow. I'm sure I've stood before this mirror before... many times, perhaps..."

Interestingly, one of the options here is a Selunite-specific one to pray to the mirror. I'm not sure why anyone, least of all Hector, would think this would do anything positive, but sure, why not:

[SELUNE][RELIGION] Offer a prayer to the mirror.

We get disadvantage on this because Hector is Selunite, apparently, and it's a DC25 check.

LOL. I could try and spend inspiration on this but honestly this makes more sense under the circumstances.

Narrator: Your prayers fade away into the nothingness of the mirror, unacknowledged.

Sad Hector face! D:

OK, I am actually curious what happens if we succeed this, so backing up, casting Enhance Ability on Hector, and savescumming like crazy.

Narrator: You feel a presence, dark and ancient. It approves of your fealty.

OK, that's not the kind of prayer I thought Hector was offering based on the [SELUNITE] tag, lol. RELOAD.

We also have the option here to offer memories to the mirror; @zenjestrr tells me this would give us a +2 to any attribute, even going over the normal cap of 20. But Hector, obviously, is not going to touch that with a ten-foot pole.

I think we're done with this place. Let's GTFO.

[forthesanityofstorytellers]

Into the Caves

(I'm working out a new WIP idea focused on Lyra and decided I might as well just post as I go. No idea how far Imma get but ya'll can be along for the ride, lol)

Context: A bit of worldbuilding as Lyra follows her tutor into a sort of underground area where the maps are kept.

(Previous)

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

Lyra followed her tutor down through the carved hallways, grown patches of pillars scattered throughout the area, supporting the domed ceiling high above. They were well below the level of the waters now, the sound outside the building having changed to a sort of dull thud instead of the usual sounds of sloshing movement. The usual scents of salt and seagrass were replaced by still air and carefully cultivated species of plants they used for nearly every purpose on the islands; the building itself was carved out of a giant sea plant they found could support weight, carved and out and reinforced with things like mineral and hardened sediment from the other lands.

Along the way, long tube-like stems and caps bloomed at movement, trained to do so in order to light up the darker reaches, the stems and growths tended to by caretakers that seemed to never leave these darker reaches, dressed in only cloaks with the hoods pulled up and only identified by the antlers that were allowed to poke out from the sides or the front.

Lyra’s ears twitched as her hand went up to her own antlers, prodding at them gently. They had started coming in maybe two or three cycles ago, and it was around then that her more serious lessons with her tutor had started. Right now they were small and grew from her hairline back along her head into a sort of bowl shape, with very few prongs. Easy to cover up. Easy to miss.

She always knew they would come in eventually. Everyone grew horns when they reached a certain age. It was a mark of maturity, she was told, and therefore meant she had to start learning how to behave in a manner worth of her growth.

If she had her way she’d cut them off and pretend she never had them. But no, you’re not allowed to do that. Never allowed to do that. How you grow your antlers, the size and shape of them, how many prongs you have, all of it was some strange indicator of so many things in the world, according to her tutor. How one used their magic. If they were warrior or scholar. High social or lower social, mate desirability, birth origin, and some even believed they could tell someone’s destiny or fate by whether or not your points and antler growth matched up with specific constellations or planet movements.

She glanced back at the hooded ones and peered at their antlers, trying to see if she could read the marks yet, but her tutor merely rolled his eyes a little and tugged on her arm.

“Did you want to look at the maps today, Keroi, or did you want to study the Aimonhb and their Qawn?”

Lyra grunted and quickly sped up her pace to keep up with him. “Do we have to use the formal words for everything? Can we not just call them antlers? The offworlders do.” She paused. “At least, I think they do. Their translators are hard to understand.”

“And should we do everything the offworlders do?” he asked with a sniff. “They who have no understanding of our traditions? Who have no Qawn?”

“They seem to have an okay time with it,” she grumbled.

He sighed. “Keroi, our Qawn are our connection to our world. Our magic. Our way of life. To not have them is curious at best, a curse at worst. They allow us to sense our planet in a way that the offworlders do not seem to understand, that they can make no sense of.”

“They are trying, Qwkas. You must see that.”

He considered. “They are. But I doubt they will ever get there if they cannot figure out how to grow Qawn for themselves. It is not something to learn so much as it is something to feel.”

He paused at a closed pathway, long beads of sticky mucus coated with beads and mineral blocking the way. He reached into his jacket, inside one of the many pockets and pulled out a ring. “But the offworlders are not something you need to concern yourself with anyway. We have arrived.”

She grinned, ears twitching and wings fluttering as he slid the ring on and waved his hand at the sparkling blockage, the thin lines of mucus parting as he did so.

The room of maps.

Her key to the outside world.

Her path to escape.

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

And for a bonus, translations!

*Keroi - Child with authority/Princess (affectionate) *Aimonhb - Hidden One *Qawn = Antler/Horn

[ordon-shield]

Ok, so recently I saw this post by @tenten18282 and the art got me thinking so gave some AUs based on it! (Using the LU names since it’s what they used but this could also be seen as general LoZ).

(Content warnings for the expected, mention of suicide, some mild body horror, character death).

Bellum!Wind

It starts when Bellum takes over Wind instead of Linebeck. Linebeck has to take up the Phantom Sword to fight him. He tries his best but it’s not enough, even when he’s able to attack the weak spot with the help of Ciela, it’s too late. Bellum is a parasite that’s now fully integrated with Wind’s body, making it impossible to separate the two of them without killing him. Oshus appears, saving Linebeck, Ciela, and Tetra, but leaving Wind behind.

In the aftermath they end up in an unwilling partnership of sorts. Bellum gives Wind the freedom to do the human things like eating food or talking because it’s more convenient that way, but controls the body most of the time. At one point Wind tries to get rid of both of them, with the logic that at least Bellum would be dead, but it doesn’t work, and in the aftermath he starts to become more cynical about everything. He slowly starts to resent the freedom of the people caught by the Ghost Ship, working more with Bellum, and offering them cruel choices with no good options a

Ganon!Hyrule

It starts when he’s caught by servants of Ganon looking to revive him using his blood, but he manages to escape halfway through the ritual and at first, everything seems fine. Then he starts to hear the whispers, subtle nudges that feel like his own thoughts. They build on his paranoia, anyone could be an enemy, they drive him to get stronger, to keep himself safe. Eventually he notices that where he once would have risked his life standing between a traveller and a monster attacking them, now he quietly moves away before he’s even noticed. After that, the whispers in his mind shift in their goals. Now they tell him he should be fighting the monsters, that he should be figuring out how to use his magic to take out more at once, that he should be making them fear him. When a group of monsters he’s been going after particularly ruthlessly offers their loyalty if he stops hunting them down… why not take the deal? It keeps everyone safe after all and he doesn’t even have to fight.

Through all of this, he starts getting dreams, ones he only remembers impressions of at first, of a desert in the distant past. Trusting his own mind less and less, he decides that he should give the Triforce to the Zeldas to protect, but the moment he sees them he has to fight the overwhelming desire to attack. His case is more one of a gradual merge, the centuries of memory held by Ganon and the strength of his emotion overriding what was there before. He still remembers his past, still cares for the people he knew… it just takes a lower priority now.

Vaati!Four

At the end of the final fight with Vaati in The Minish Cap, he realises he’s about to loose, so he uses the Mage’s Cap in a last ditch effort to survive. Only one person comes back from that fight and he looks like Four… but he’s completely lost his memories. His grandfather and Zelda try to help him recover his memories, but he can’t seem to manage it, not even remembering some simple everyday things. He discovers an interest in magic, something that gets attributed to his experiences with magical items during his quest, and he tries to see if there’s a magical method to recover his memories but can’t find one. He also has off dreams, ones where he’s attacked by his own shadow screaming in fury.

For the next few years, everything is peaceful— until Hyrule is attacked by Ganon, a Gerudo man corrupted by the ancient darkness of a magical trident, and Zelda asks him to draw the Four Sword once more. He draws it, splitting into four aspects of himself, but Ganon takes advantage of his distraction to steal away his shadow, giving it a physical form. The Shadow joins Ganon willingly on the condition that he be offered the power necessary to defeat the four he came from. Of the four heroes, taking the names Green, Blue, Red, and Vio, the latter is the most different. He’s much better at magic than the other three, something they attribute to him being the smart one, and he keeps pushing for them to go after their Shadow and defeat it.

Eventually they end up fighting the Shadow and that’s when the truth comes out — the Shadow is actually the original Four, and the one that drew the Four Sword was Vaati possessing his body. When they split, Vio was able to access some of Vaati’s lost memories. Before the others can fully process the reveal, Vio kills the Shadow by shattering the mirror he was tied to. After defeating Ganon, they debate over whether they should merge back together or not, as they could regain their memories of being Vaati, and they’ve grown used to their life as the hero of Hyrule. In the end they agree and merge back into one. Zelda is there to welcome them home and realises too late that they’ve betrayed her, with Vaati revealing himself, and extracting the light force inside her.

Majora/Fierce Deity!Time

In the final fight with Majora in the heart of the Moon, Majora sees how powerful he is with the Fierce Deity mask and decides to take that power. The mask is forced onto his face, over the mask of the Fierce Deity which fights back, trying to protect him, but during the fight they become irrevocably intertwined with each other and to Time. He technically still has control of his body, but he’s sharing his mind with two other entities that have strong opinions on what he should do. Even if he he tries to just ignore them he ends up with debilitating headaches that keep him from doing anything at all. For a while he tries to just stay on the Moon, but the entities inside his head push him to leave, Majora wanting to terrorise Termina once more, and the Fierce Deity wanting to defend it. Leaving the Moon, Time soon ends up doing something he regrets and in his panic, he plays the Song of Time, resetting back to the First Day. He doesn’t have to worry about Majora, the mask he brought back with him replacing the one that was originally in that timeline, but now he has a way to erase anything he does at the urging of the mask now fused to his face.

Sometimes he’ll follow the desires of the Fierce Deity, befriending and helping the residents of Termina. But sometimes… he listens to Majora instead, taking what he’s learnt through the cycles against those he once considered friends. Sometimes they even summon the Moon once more, and wait for the last possible moment to play the song and set it all back to the beginning.