#last year's crop was crap

[ssaalexblake]

I feel like, after like 2 years?? of asking for it, expecting that eventually somebody will buy me fruits basket s1pt2 is foolish. 

[5sospenguinqueen]

Love You FURever - Toto Wolff x Vet! Reader

Summary: When Toto marries a vet, he realises his life consists of yelling about cars and fostering injured animals.

Fluff. Humour. Pinterest pics.

Requested: Yes by anon. Sorry this is only a small one

F1 Masterlist

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ynwolff just posted

liked by maxverstappen1, kimi.antonelli and others

ynwolff some friends from work

1,681 comments

maxverstappen1 sassy and jimmy said they’ve never enjoyed a vet visit so much

→ ynwolff bring them back anytime! such lovely cats

user toto’s plan to get max to mercedes is by making his wife befriend his cats liked by ynwolff

→ user ahah she liked. she’s so funny

lewishamilton roscoe says he can’t wait for his check-up

→ ynwolff i can’t wait to see my sweet boy

→ georgerussell63 i miss when i was your sweet boy

→ ynwolff i’ve been around you too long. you stopped being my sweet boy last year

albon_pets any room for more friends?

→ ynwolff there’s always room for f1 pets

→ user this just makes me think she set up her own clinic purely so she could look after the f1 animals

→ user agreed because she attends every race where a pet is so she can be on hand for them

charles_leclerc this is my sign to get a dog

→ user yes! charles dog dad era needed

mercedesamgf1 i thought we were friends… but you haven’t visited us for ages :(

→ ynwolff don’t make me tell my husband that you’re emotionally blackmailing me

→ mercedesamgf1 he told us to (and there’s no proof if we delete the comment)

→ ynwolff (i have it printed out)

→ user omfg she’s defo the funniest wag

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mercedesamgf1 just posted

liked by ynwolff, georgerussell63 and others

mercedesamgf1 boss man hard at work

4,463 comments

ynwolff tell him not to look so serious. he’ll scare the children

→ totowolff my love, i can see your comments.

→ ynwolff when did you do this? why do you follow mercedes and your drivers and not ME!

→ user toto sleeping on the couch later liked by ynwolff

kimi.antonelli 😊

user i hope he’s trying to figure out how to fix the shit box that is the W15

user he’s such a grandpa with his tied sweaters

→ totowolff i am not a grandpa.

→ ynwolff so when you were complaining about your back aching and begging for a rub?

→ user i bet he doesn’t act like a grandpa at home, that’s how they ended up with a 6 year old

→ georgerussell63 guys, he can see these comments now fyi

user definitely the hottest team principal liked by ynwolff

→ totowolff with the hottest wife.

→ user omg they’re so down bad for each other that he’s breaking pr rules for her

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wolffcare just posted

liked by roscoelovescoco, albon_pets and others

wolffcare boss of the month

933 comments

ynwolff i paid them to post this. literally

→ wolffcare that only makes it like 5% less true

roscoelovescoco vets of thes years

charles_leclerc leo is looking forward to his first trip to the vets tomorrow

maxverstappen1 would recommend

lewishamilton 10/10

alex_albon the cats are begging me to make them fat so they have a reason to come visit you

→ ynwolff stop feeding them cheese

user why are all the f1 drivers here?

→ totowolff because this is my wife.

→ user when he claims you

→ user girl bffr

→ user starting to feel like toto only made an insta so he could join the drivers in praising her online

mercedesamgf1 if the w15 was an animal, we would trust you with it more than toto

→ totowolff my office. monday. 9am.

→ mercedesamgf1 crap

→ ynwolff they were complimenting me, my love

→ totowolff fine.

→ totowolff @/mercedesamgf1 make that 10am.

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ynwolff just posted

liked by lewishamilton, alex_albon and others

ynwolff my best friends for the weekend

3,311 comments

user omg the fact that she cropped out toto

totowolff liebling, are we no longer friends?

→ ynwolff you left your wet towel on the bed again so no

→ user oh so it’s not just my husband

→ user even millionaires piss off their wives

→ totowolff *billionaire.

roscoelovescoco my favourites grand prixs buddy

→ ynwolff my favourite bulldog

georgerussell63 offended that i’m not in this

→ ynwolff toto, your child is pestering me again

→ lewishamilton actually, i’m a little offended that I’m not in this either but bono is

→ ynwolff omg lewis i’m so sorry. i'll dedicate a whole post to you this weekend

→ georgerussell63 wow

user jack is so cute. he’s the perfect combination of toto and yn

→ totowolff yn did a great job, didn’t she?

→ ynwolff stop trying to convince me to have another

→ user omg he’s trying to get her to have more!

mercedesamgf1 we love having the three of you in the garage. brings us more luck

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totowolff just posted

liked by mercedesamgf1, ynwolff and others

totowolff gentleman, if you fall in love with a vet, she will give you the best family. but far too many animals in your home

4,477 comments

mercedesamgf1 the cutest family 🩵

lewishamilton is this the puppy that was going to be put down?

→ totowolff yes. yn rescued him and i couldn’t say no.

georgerussell63 so that makes one child, three cats, two hamsters, two cows and a puppy. what’s next?

→ ynwolff i really want a pig but toto says he doesn’t like the noise :(

→ user isn’t he trying to get you to have another baby? how is that noise okay?

albon_pets we should open up a zoo together

→ totowolff don’t give her ideas!

charles_leclerc omg when can we meet him!?

→ ynwolff he’ll be at the next couple of races

f1wags what a lovely picture of yn and jack

ynwolff you shouldn't call your son an animal. he’s only a little feral. he gets that from you

→ totowolff i watched you tear into a steak yesterday. not sure i’m the cause.

→ ynwolff uh, you were the cause of my craving for steak

→ totowolff who knew getting you pregnant made you such a carnivore.

→ user pregnant?!

→ user baby #2?!?!

→ user definitely not a grandpa

→ ynwolff toto!

→ totowolff this is why i didn’t want an instagram!

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Requests open! Now include Franco Colapinto and K Mag

Tag list

@peachiicherries @rosecentury @c-losur3 @heavy-vettel @evie-119 @raizelchrysanderoctavius

[cdragons]

Fuck Everything, But Mostly Fuck You - Part 2

Previous Part, Next Part

Summary: You have never, EVER, in a million years hated anyone the way you hated Felix fucking Catton. But silver linings exist in the sticky toffee pudding Mrs. Gavey made for you.

Warnings- MDNI 18+, Sex, Felix is Felix (a ho), Reader finally eating some good fucking food, Michael is Michael, Farleigh is Farleigh, Oliver is Oliver (a creep), alternating POVs between characters, and author has spent too much time researching Oxford crap for this mess for a crack fic to be a crack fic

Author's Note: BRUH??? HOW DID I GET SO MANY NOTES IN PART 1??? Everyone has been so wonderful and supportive. I received so many questions and comments, which have all been great! Thank you for reading this story, and I hope that this part lives up the first one. Also, this is technically a Christmas fic bc it just fits with the story's timeline. I would like to thank Grammarly for catching all my grammatical errors 🥲, @ethereal-athalia for enabling my crazy ideas 🥰, and @valeskafics for providing me Saltburn smut when I catch myself thirsting 😇

Christmas Eve - Saltburn 2006

“Oh! Oh – y-yes, yes, yes! FUCK!”

Fucking the girl underneath so hard to the point where she likely saw stars. Meanwhile, Felix was trying to finish as soon as possible.

“So big! God, you’re so fucking big – FUCK!”

He brought her to his room and in his bed because he thought her hair just barely matched yours, and if he didn’t think too much about it – her voice sounded a bit like yours too.

But he made a mistake.

The girl – whatever her name was – sounded nothing like you. Her hair was nowhere near as pretty and shiny as yours, and her nails were fucking long and sharp that they were digging for his blood. Her makeup too – fucking hell, it was like she trying out for the opera with how much she caked onto herself.

Every time Felix saw you – whether in the library or under a tree – your nails were trimmed short. And from what he remembered, you didn’t plaster yourself in cheap cosmetics.

No, you never needed to. Your style of choice was simpler and more elegant than most girls he knew, including his sister, Venetia. Granted, he loved his sister to bits and pieces, but the girl loved her spray tan in the winter.

But worst of all – she didn’t have your eyes. Her gaze was too mindless and soft, a mix of adoration and unparalleled lust. Your eyes held vivacious rage and

“Felix?” What’s-Her-Face asked. “You okay?”

Fuck, he was getting soft.

Closing his eyes, Felix knew the only way he would get to finish was to think of you. He thought about the last time he saw you. He remembered how hard the wind blew and how cold it was that night. He felt himself harden at the memory of how alive your eyes were right before and after you broke his nose. His back still had the welts from the blows of your notebook. Every time he saw them in the mirror, he would lovingly stroke each bruise because they were the only evidence that you were real.

That you weren’t just a figment of his imagination.

Letting his mind run wild, Felix imagined you here instead of this imposter. He’d imagine you on top – no way a woman like you would let anyone be on top, not even him. Fuck, you’d be the most wild thing ever to exist, he’s sure he’d let you do anything to him.

His heart, his soul – whether you cared for him or wished to crush him under your shoe – everything of his would be yours.

He wondered if you were the type to be into using a riding crop.

Regaining his vigor with his eyes still closed, he imagined you riding him until oblivion. Your breasts would fit perfectly in his hands as you would still be bouncing on his cock. Your head would be thrown back, and his eyes would roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your pussy tightening.

Oh God, he was going to blow.

Quickening his pace, the girl that wasn’t you was full-on howling in unbridled pleasure. When she climaxed, he could finally let go and come. Ropes of his cum spilled into the condom as he shouted out your name.

Falling to his side, he hadn’t bothered to check if Lady Not You remained in the sheets. It didn’t matter if she did; Felix was too exhausted to care. Finally feeling like he could rest, he fell into a dream about the day he felt his life truly begin – the day he met you.

First Week of Oxford University Michaelmas Term of 2006

Felix remembered the first time he saw you – it was after the first week since the term began. He and his mates were fucking around in Radcliffe, and the old bag running the desk was having a cow with them. He was bored out of his mind when all of a sudden – he spotted you on the upper level. You wore dark wash blue straight-leg jeans with rolled-up cuffs and white high-top Converse sneakers. It looked like your shirt must have been at least a decade old, given how the black-dyed cotton was faded to dark gray, and the paint looked cracked and chipped. Your thick locks were gathered in a loose but simple braid. Unlike everyone else, your eyes weren’t focused on him – but on the structure and life around him.

He had to know more.

Slipping a tenner to one of his friends to cause a distraction, he used the diversion to make his way to your spot on the second floor. Having a closer view, you were the most vividly gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes upon. He was worried that his movement toward you would alert you of his presence, and you would only scurry off – and away from him. But judging by the slight bobbing of your head, you wouldn’t be able to hear him since you were listening to whatever was playing through your earbuds.

All the better for him to keep observing you.

As he inched closer, his eyes caught the tiny wisps of your hair that weren’t contained by your messy braid, creating a lovely frame of your face while also bringing out the shine in your eyes. You had a simple gold chain around your neck with a circular locket hanging. From the side, Felix could faintly distinguish the words “Bon Jovi” in blue cracked paint and “1989” underneath a skull wearing red aviators.

He didn’t know who the fuck Bon Jovi was, but clearly, he was someone pretty fucking important to you.

But what captured Felix’s interest was how engrossed you were with the scene unfolding underneath you. Your eyes very rarely broke away from the view – only to quickly glance at the hardcover sketchbook you balanced on the white-painted railing. Whenever you glanced down at your sketch, Felix could see how long and thick your eyelashes were. Each time you blinked, it was like his mind broke down the movement of your eyelids frame by frame as if he were editing a Garry Marshall film. He wished he could be your cheek at that moment. If only to feel the gentle flutter of your lashes’ touch. Deep in your concentration, your lips were slightly pursed in a way that brought out their luscious fullness.

He couldn’t help but imagine how they would look around his cock. If he came inside your mouth, he was sure that some of his spunk would leak past your lips before you tried your best to swallow it down.

He was so lost in the fantasy of you and him that he hadn’t realized you had been calling out to him. Breaking out of his reverie, he looked down to see you right before him. And you looked downright pissed at him.

“Hey! HEY!” you exclaimed while waving your hand to his face to catch his attention.

You were American. How adorable.

“If you could stop staring at me like a fucking serial killer, I think your ‘mates’ are trying to get your attention.”

You pointed your finger at his group of friends still on the first floor. It seemed that they successfully drove away the grounds' warden. The old bat was now fixated on putting away all the returned or misplaced books on the shelves.

Must have been Farleigh’s idea.

Anyway, back to you.

“Yeah, sorry about that. Hey, can I get your –” but you were gone by the time he turned back to you.

Instead, he found himself alone on the second floor. He quickly glanced around to see if you had just moved to a different area. But you were gone. Racing the stairwell, hoping to catch up to you, he found that you had already walked too far for him to call you out without seeming completely desperate.

Except that he was.

He watched you walk away – shoulders back, posture straight, and head held high – and thought at how utterly unfair it was to him that you walked away from him so beautifully without giving him your number, or at least your name.

Felix woke up in a dark room; he was confused as to why the maids hadn’t drawn curtains – until he realized that Mum had likely sent them for their holiday after the party was finished.

It's too bad that he wasn’t there to see everyone out like a good son. But he wouldn’t beat himself over about it too much – chances were that his parents were also hungover off their asses too. He didn’t even want to imagine V’s state right now.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Felix dug into his closet to find whatever someone wore the morning after fucking a completely faceless stranger to scratch an itch meant for someone else. In the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a little note on his nightstand. Swiftly plucking it with two fingers, he could barely make out the words written in swirly cursive.

My name’s Cassie. Just thought you should know for next time. Call me: XXXX-XXXXXXX 💋

Felix scoffed before tossing the dingy paper to the floor – destined to be forgotten before the next hour came – before locking himself in the bathroom to take a piss and wash off the smell of booze and cigs off his skin.

By the time he was finished, it was probably close to noon. He would have made his way down to the kitchens to fix something up – but he was immediately met with Farleigh as soon as he stepped out of the doorway. Bastard startled him up so bad that he practically jumped a foot off the ground.

“Fucking – really, Farleigh?” he asked. “Practically gave me a heart attack first thing in the morning.”

“It’s almost one so that ship has sailed.” He quipped back. “Aunt Elspeth and Uncle James were quite distraught when their golden son wasn’t seen by any of the guests when the party ended. It wasn't good when the Carltons’ daughter was gone for almost an hour. But at least she returned to her loving parents’ arms by the time it was to go home.”

Farleigh shot his cousin a curious look.

“You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? I’m pretty sure her name was Cassandra.”

Felix just shrugged.

“Don’t know about any Cassandras. Fucked a Cassie last night, though.”

Farleigh snorted a laugh as they went to the kitchens to see if any food was prepared.

“Merry Christmas, indeed.”

A few minutes of companionable silence passed before Felix asked his cousin something important.

“Hey, do you think she’s thinking about me?”

“Cassie or Cassandra? Because the answer’s probably yes anyway.”

“No, not them. Y/N, Y/N L/N.”

Farleigh immediately stopped. He genuinely wondered how Felix managed to get into Oxford sometimes. Sure, he was a legacy kid, but the line had to be drawn somewhere.

“You really think,” he slowly began, “that the girl who dragged you out of the library in front of everyone, broke your nose, beat you bruised with only her flimsy-ass notebook – because you ruined her painting – would be thinking about you?”

Judging by the look in his cousin’s eyes, yes. Sighing at the incredulity of it all, Farleigh could only shake his head before finding something to eat and drink away the migraine he could feel was coming.

Watching his cousin walk away from him, Felix knew he thought he was fighting a losing battle. But he wasn’t too worried. Everything would change during the upcoming term. Oxford was its own world – broken away from everything else. All that mattered to anyone in Oxford was this world's history, present, and future. And now – as it was made clear now to Felix – you were also part of that world. He would get to find you again and make sure to bring you to the point where you would look for him the way he would look for you.

Still, a selfish part of Felix hoped that you were even just the slightest bit miserable being away from him as he was being away from you.

Manchester, December 2006

You were having the time of your life.

Michael invited you to his home in Manchester for Christmas to spend the holidays with his family. You refused, at first, the idea of being a burden to your best friend during a time when it should be spent with family. Michael liked to put up a big front, but you knew that he was just as – if not more – excited to spend Christmas with his folks than you were before the “incident.”

But he insisted, and you could not have been more grateful for the invitation. But you wish you were a tad bit more graceful with your reaction when he first brought it up.

Oxford Dining Hall December 2006

You were angrily shoveling pasta into your mouth at the time. Sadly, the appallingly bland marinara sauce paired with the overcooked spaghetti and dry meatballs was the university's most flavorful dish.

“Come home with me.” He told you one evening during dinner time at the dining hall.

Caught off guard, you half-choked on the mountain of overcooked noodles in your mouth. Immediately, you reached for your glass of water to wash it down and to prevent a truly horrifically dull death.

“What?” you croaked out.

“Come with me to my house for Christmas.” He clarified, utterly unfazed by your near death. “Come on, you’ve been complaining to me all week about not being able to fly back for the holidays. And no one should have to spend Christmas eating whatever slop they’ll end up serving.”

“Michael,” you began, “I am not going to impose on your family like that. And you seemed to have forgotten one key detail: I can’t leave until I re-do the painting.”

“So, come over after you finish,” he reasoned, “I know you remember what to do, and that already cuts the time you originally spent on it in half. You won’t need a whole month to do it again, so come over when you finish. Plus, you don’t have your other classes to worry about.”

You knew that he was right – he was right about a lot of things – but the offer still made you uncomfortable. Scholarship student or not, you were no one’s charity case. If there was one thing you hated more than being underestimated, it was being pitied by people who didn’t know you. That wasn’t the case with Michael, but the feeling made you feel small.

You hated feeling small.

“That doesn’t change the fact that I would be imposing on your family. Your mom’s a nurse, right? She’s probably been looking forward to your homecoming for ages now. Informing her that she should be expecting a complete stranger, who would be staying for two weeks, would be a huge burden on her. She shouldn’t have that kind of stress burdening her during the holidays.”

He rolled his eyes at your concern.

“Don’t be a drama queen. I already have one in my life, and I’m genetically attached to her. And you’re hardly a stranger. Mum’s always asking when you would be visiting anyway. She’s worried if you’re eating enough or getting enough sleep. She’s a bit looney like that.”

You shot your friend a glare. He was trying way too hard to keep a cool, nonchalant façade. Michael Gavey was a total sucker for his family but in the sweetest way. During the long study sessions that stretched into the night, Michael’s defenses were lowered, and you could get more information about his life and home.  

His mom was a Manchester Royal Infirmary nurse practitioner, while his dad was an accountant at Pearl Lemon. They met at a coffee shop. He was working as a barista to pay off his student loans, and she was a nurse just starting her residency. He wowed her with his terrible jokes, and she charmed him with her infectious smile, and the rest was history. Three years into their marriage, baby Mikey was born, with the addition of his baby sister Lilypad a decade later.

When you remained silent, Michael knew your stubbornness would give him endless headaches. But you were his best friend, the only person he saw worth befriending in the infinite sea of prats and slags that overpopulated their university. You laughed at his shitty jokes, and he snorted at yours. You would try to trip him up with out-of-pocket sums; he’d laugh when he answered them before your calculator. You had his back when some rugby bloke pushed him around, and he had yours when some fake tanned bitch called you a tramp.

“Look, I can’t promise it’ll be anything like your home. I know you miss your mum’s cooking and your dad’s drunk stories. But my parents already made me promise that I would get you to visit because it’s Christmas and no one should be alone and you’re going to die without me here and blah blah blah. Just say you’ll come? Lil’ will murder me if you don’t come. She’s been dying to hear all about the Great Apple and Broadway.”

“…It’s actually called the Big Apple.”

Your comment brought a loud and rather unattractive snort to leave his mouth. And the chuckle that came after brought a small and tentative smile on you.

“Look, are you coming or not?”

You had to admit, the invitation sounded welcoming. You were dying to put faces on the people that made Michael Gavey, well, Michael Gavey. He rarely talked about his family, but his tone was warm and soft when he did. It was such a sweet contrast to the snarky little shit you were used to, and so temptation won in the end.

“…Fine.” You agreed after dragging out the tension. “But I am bringing presents for all your family members, and you have to help me. And any funds that were spent on me are going to be paid back before summer. Got it?”

A true, genuine smile crept across Michael’s face.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“…Will I be seeing any baby pictures of you?”

“Don’t push it.”

You weren’t sure what exactly to expect from Michael’s family – maybe they were wonderful, or maybe the idea of an American that hailed from a city with some of the highest crime rates in the US gave them hives – but you were sure that you wouldn’t be alone if Michael were with you. Safe to say, your expectations were set way too low.

His dad's arms immediately enveloped Michael after you two exited at your stop and the station. You had always assumed most British father figures to be a bit cold and distant, but it seemed that stereotype didn’t apply to his dad. You went in for a handshake but were also caught in a warm hug. You introduced yourself while expressing your gratitude to him and his wife’s generosity.

“Oh no, please,” he insisted, “please call me Greg. Mr. Gavey was my father’s name, and I don’t think I’ve grown that many wrinkles yet.”

When you arrived at his home, it was a medium-sized red brick building in the suburbs. After entering the door and Greg announcing your arrival, quick footsteps ran down the stairs, and a young girl with golden honey curls in pajamas and a pink tutu ran to Michael.

“MIKEY!” she exclaimed. “YOU’RE HOME! Did you miss me? Why did it take you so long? You said your tests were done by the third. It’s the fifteenth today!”

“Lily, Lily,” Michael breathily laughed, “calm down. Of course, I missed you. But I had to wait for my friend because she’s hopeless with directions.”

“That is not true!” you blurted. “It’s not my fault I come from a grid system!”

“Anyway, this is my very good friend, Y/N L/N. Y/N L/N, this is my little sister, Lily.”

Lily turned to you with a big smile and curtsied like a perfect ballerina.

“Hello! My name is Lily! I’m eight, but I’ll be nine in April!”

You almost squealed at how adorable the sight was. You crouched down and mirrored her smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you, Lily! I’m Y/N, and I’m turning nineteen this coming b/m! Your brother here told me so much about you.”

“He did?” she asked with wide eyes.

“He did! He told you how smart you are in math and that you’re an amazing ballerina.”

Lily shyly looked down as a massively cute blush bloomed on her cheeks.

“I wanna be good at sums like Mikey. That way, I can help Daddy with his work like Mikey did when he was my age.”

“Ok!” interjected ‘Mikey,’ cheeks equally flushed at the slipped detail from his baby sister. “Time to find Mum. She in the kitchen?”

“Yep! She’s making roast chicken and mash with peas!” She turned to you. “Is Y/N allergic to anything?”

“Nope!” you replied, “Only dust, but I’m pretty sure that won’t be in the dishes.”

Meeting Michael’s mom – who was absolutely gorgeous, by the way – was another huge highlight of the break so far. Hearing you three entering the kitchen, she immediately turned off the stove and dashed over to hug you and her son.

“Oh, Y/N!” she warmly greeted you. “I’m so happy that you were able to come. Michael has told me so much about you. Have you adjusted well in Oxford? The time difference isn’t putting too much strain on you, is it? You both look so skinny – are they feeding you at all at that school?”

“Careful, Mum. You might scare her off.”

You shot him a mocking glare before answering his mother.

“Don’t be mean! And I think I’ve adjusted well enough to the university. Jet lag wasn’t too much of an issue because my parents made sure I moved into my dorm early and adjusted to the time zone changes before classes started. The food they serve at the dining halls doesn’t compare to homecooked meals, so I haven’t had much of an appetite. But after walking into the kitchen, I think I’ll be able to regain it once I have your cooking!”

“Oh, you are so sweet! I’ll let you get settled. Greg and I cleaned up the guest room for you. It’s next to Lilypad’s room. She’s excited to hear any stories you have about New York. It’s just on the second floor at the end of the hall.”

Walking back to the entrance to grab your bags, you were just in earshot of Michael and his mom’s conversation.

“Michael! Why didn’t you tell me she was so beautiful! I thought she was a model from Vogue when she first walked in! Are you sure nothing’s going on between you two? Should I expect any grandchildren in the near future?”

“Mum!” he loudly groaned as you softly chortled.

Christmas with the Gaveys was so much fun. You played a dozen board games. Michael was a beast in Poker and Uno while you cleared the board with Scrabble and Black Jacks. Mrs. Gavey was a fantastic cook – you couldn’t remember the last time you had any meal that had more than salt as a seasoning since coming to England. You tried sticky toffee pudding for the first time – you almost cried at that first bite. Everyone was so warm to each other and showered one another with so much love. Most of the neighbors watched Michael grow up, and many shared his childhood stories. It reminded you a lot of the Christmases at your parents’ apartment back in Queens.

The community and camaraderie- it was like you were back at home with your family. Your mom would pick up a roast duck from Peking Duck Sandwich Stall in Flushing while you and your dad would go to Eileen’s to wait in line to pick up your favorite cheesecake. The building would have a huge potluck on Christmas Eve, and everyone would bring a dish. Your neighbor, Mrs. Wong, would bring out everything necessary to make her famous dumplings. Everything was made from scratch. You and the kids of the building would learn how to wrap the fillings in the wrappers while the adults made the wrappers and fillings. You would play White Elephant with the other kids on Christmas Day, which usually ended in a fistfight.

You still missed home. You missed your parents and cat. You missed making cookies with your parents because Christmas was the only time when both of them had time off from work. While his school was still on break, you and your dad would take advantage of your mom’s employee benefits and watch a bunch of live Broadway shows.

When your parents skyped you, you cried after seeing their faces for the first time in so long. School was so stressful, and you were starting to regret traveling so far when you could have easily gone to a school so much closer to home. You tried your best to reschedule your flight, but round-trip flights were expensive, and they increased exponentially during the holidays.

You cried for an hour after seeing the prices online.

But thanks to Michael, you felt so much less alone than you would have if you had stayed at Oxford for the entire break. You introduced him to your parents during the call, and they loved him. It was such a massive relief that they liked your friend, especially because of how much his friendship meant to you. When he left the room, your parents basically forced you to ensure he would come with you to stay with you when you returned for the summer. They were shocked when you told them he had never had fresh jianbing or a decent slice of pizza. After the call, you were confident they were making a list of every store and stall you and Michael would visit during his visit.

Classic Queens’ family behavior – showing love by forcing food down your throat whether you like it or not.

At the moment, you were at the window in your room and looking at the moon. It was about three in the morning, and the rest of the household was asleep.

Well – everyone except one.

Michael had crept in about half an hour ago, and the two of you were just looking at the stars. You hadn’t expected to see so many – you could only see the lights from planes and aircraft at night back home. There wasn’t any talking, only comforting silence. The scene outside your window with the fresh snow on top of the rooftops and ground. Each house had a slight outline of their Christmas tree lights shining from their lower windows.

Your fingers itched for your pencil and sketchbook to immortalize it.

Ever so softly, Michael broke the silence while looking at you.

“So,” he began, “how would you rate your first English Christmas in the Gavey Household?”

You looked back at him with the biggest smile that Michael had ever seen on you.

“Ten out of ten. Would pay to see lightsaber reenactment again.”

If there was a God out there, you prayed for the coming term to be as wonderful as this holiday had been for you.

Suburban Prescot, Liverpool December 2006

In a well-established suburban home in Prescot, a short boy with crystal blue eyes and inky black hair locked himself in his room. The noise and babble from downstairs gave him a headache. He hated his parents. He hated his sisters. He hated being invisible and being from nowhere.

He had to get out of here.

In his backpack, a photo of a specific heir of a manor was safely tucked in the bottom. The new term was going to be different for him. He would make sure of it.

Tagging: @aemondsbabe, @ethereal-athalia, @arcielee, @asa-do-your-thing, @valeskafics, @axelsagewrites, @the1999kid, @poolnoodlerescuer, @winterblu2, @abaker74, @whereismymindnow, @agustdeeyaa, @iamavailablesstuff, @bonnieblue0606, @st-eve-barnes, @nyxthoughtss

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list by commenting!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Ace Trappola: Trouble, that Trappola

Wow, different pjs??? I wonder if each student will truly have unique sleepwear or if it’ll be like “everyone in the same dorm has similar sleepwear, just recolored and with a different motif”. I’ve been laughing about how Ace is dressed and posed, it’s very… Justin Bieber-coded. His bedhead though, it reminds me of Sylvain from FE3H.

Fun fact, I have an irl friend that has the same birthday as Ace... Therefore, I am legally obligated to celebrate it with them/j This year, we're going to an Alice in Wonderland-themed afternoon tea, which I think is very appropriate for Ace! Aaaaaah, My Alice in Wonderland-loving heart can’t take it 😭

Rise and Shine!

He was having a pleasant dream.

There was a path, and the longer he walked on that path, the more the scenery morphed into nonsense.

First was a forest full of twisting turns, colorful signs that pointed this way and that. There was mewing coming from the trees overhead, but every time he looked, he’d find no one there.

Next was a field of progressively bigger and bigger plants. The flowers had faces set in them, and they taunted Ace as he passed. He had plucked the underside of a mushroom cap and chomped down on it. A mistake—Ace had an out-of-body experience, ballooning to the size of a giant and then back to his regular size.

Then he washed away in a sea of tea, spilling from a gigantic glass bottle labelled Drink Me. He swam with the sugar cubes drifting in the fragrant rapids. He caught a current of milk and rode it past trees of chocolate. A dollop of grape jam had dropped down from a branch and landed on his nose.

When Ace, at last, fished himself out of the tea, he was left sticky, skin caked in sugar. As he made to wring his clothes of Darjeeling, he spotted an iced cookie by his feet. Eat Me, it said. There was a trail of them, confections dotting the road ahead in a neat trail. He had followed it—followed until the cookies became crumbs and he was left wandering in a white void, a blank canvas.

Wandering… wandering… where?

Just as that question cropped up like an unwanted weed in an otherwise flawless lawn, a soft sound tickled his ear.

Someone was calling his name.

Who is it…?

He picked up his pace. A casual stroll to a speed walk, then a speed walk into a jog, a job into a run, then a run into a full-on sprint.

"I'm coming! I'm coming already, darn it!!" Ace shouted into the blinding white. "I'm coming, so...!!"

Wait for me. I'll meet you there.

I'll definitely, definitely...!!

His eyes snapped open.

He was lying on his back, wrapped up in his comforter and staring up at the ceiling of his bedroom. Ace blinked several times, slowly adjusting to the sunlight that was spilling in through drawn curtains. A groan escaped him--it was too early for this.

“Mmm… What time is it?” He rolled over in a groggy daze, reaching for his phone. It was still connected to a charger, but it snapped right out of its socket when Ace jolted up. "WHAT?!"

The time, it couldn't be correct. But the line of text messages in his history confirmed the building dread in his stomach.

Gm, Ace! I'll be over soon. Cya then.

I'm here!

Hey, are you up? It's 10 minutes past.

Did you stay up late talking to your bro and sleep through your alarm again?

Hellooooo?

I'm gonna leave without you if you don't come out in 5 minutes.

"Crap, I'm running late!!"

Ace leapt out of bed and flew across his room. The comics and magazines littering his mattress scattered to the floor, but he didn't stop to pick them up.

He moved like lightning, hurriedly dressing and rushing into the communal washroom. While he brushed his teeth with one hand (lest he face the wrath of his vice dorm leader), he teased out his hair with the other. After splashing his face with water (who was going to clock him, Vil?), Ace scribbled on his signature heart, grabbed his backpack, and slipped into his sneakers.

He had his technique down pat thanks to years of practice.

Ace bolted down the hall, stuffing a protein bar into his mouth as he cleared the door. The day greeted him--and so did you, glancing up from your own phone.

"There you are! You kept me waiting, wise guy," you lectured him. It wasn't anything serious--not like his dorm leader's lengthy tirades--just paling around.

"Excuse you," Ace huffed, running a hand through his hair, "I'm fashionably late. There's a difference."

You laughed. Typical of him to always have a snappy comeback prepared.

"Well, c'mon then, fashionably late loser," you urged, playfully nudging his arm, "or we'll both be tardy."

"We'll be late, but at least we'll be late together," he grumbled, nudging you back. "That's fine by me. Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world to be stuck in a room with ya for the afternoon."

"That's a weird way of describing detention with Crewel-sensei."

"What can I say? I'm a poet," he shrugged, letting his sarcasm drip like thick nectar. "Besides, I can't leave you hangin'."

"No?" Your eyebrows hitched. "Funny, cuz I clearly remember you ditching me for cleaning duty on the first day of classes. I almost thought you had left for class without me today too."

"Oi, that was then and this is now! Come on, do you really think I'd do that to you? Me? Really?"

"Absolutely," you said without missing a beat.

"Pfft. You're so wrong about that." He rolled his eyes. "If you were really that worried that I'd gone without you, you could've poked your head in to check on me."

You frowned. "That'd mean I'd have to go into your room."

"So? I've been over at your place and in your room before. What's the big deal? You'd just be returning the favor."

He leaned in, so close that your noses almost touched. Your heart stood still. The corners of Ace's mouth lifted into a smirk. It suited him well, loathe as you were to admit it.

"Or is it that you're being shy?" he asked in a singsong. "Prefect 🎵"

"I-I'm not!" you squeaked, stepping back to put distance between the two of you. "Quit assuming things, Ace! This is why you're so annoying."

"And who is it that's decided to hang out with my 'annoying' ass, huh?" he countered smoothly.

"Urgh...! Maybe I shouldn't have wasted my time waiting for you to get ready after all..." you muttered, turning away from him. "My morning would be way more peaceful without you."

"Way less interesting too," he quipped--getting in the last word.

You shook your head, but didn't bring yourself to argue. However meddlesome his tongue was, he had spoken the naked truth.

He's trouble, that Trappola.

[fizziepopangel]

StaticMoth Headcanons (Romantic)

These two absolutely did couples therapy for a very, very, very long time, though their sessions did get less frequent over time as they learned how to navigate their relationship.

Vox appreciates the gestures and gifts and all, but he doesn’t have the heart to tell the moth demon that he cannot cook for shit so he usually just smiles and chokes down the meals… unfortunately this encourages the moth demon to continue trying to make new, more extravagant dishes, all of which taste like crap.

Valentino has horrible eyesight and usually and when they’re out, Vox acts as his eyes so that he doesn’t have to wear his glasses outside of the tower, but for their last anniversary, Vox got Valentino a set of prescription glasses identical to his signature heart frames so he could see the world around him. Val was absolutely ecstatic. He walked around like a kid in a candy store, pointing out every little detail of everything he could now see.

Velvett has dozens of cute couples photos of the two.

Vox learned spanish to impress Valentino…. He pronounces everything in the whitest possible way, but he did learn.

Around their tower, the pair often wear each other's things. Most of Vox’s leisure clothes are too small for Valentino so he often seems to be wearing cropped shirts or jackets because he still enjoys wearing his partner’s clothes despite the size difference.

Vox calls Valentino his butterfly as a term of endearment 

Val likes to play videogames, but sucks at them. When he plays with Vox and loses, he pouts and says that it's unfair since Vox has an advantage since he's a tv. Vox usually throws the match of whatever they're playing to avoid his partner pouting.

Jealousy. No matter which way you look at it. Val is a jealous lover, hating when anyone even so much as glances in Vox’s direction. Vox on the other hand is only really jealous of Angel Dust.

Vox tends to be the less physically affectionate one in the relationship, but he often seeks physical affection from his moth man as a form of comfort after a really bad day.

Valentino is a cuddler…. Unfortunately he also tends to run warm so he has caused Vox to overheat a bit, causing him to glitch.

On the nights a certain moth demon can’t sleep, Vox stays up with him and plays him the dancing fruit videos that people usually play for their babies.

Vox has always been a bit more of a romantic, but Valentino does pleasantly surprise him from time to time with gestures like poems or gifts that he never imagined Val would be thoughtful enough to come up with. He always makes sure to thank Velvette for both of them. She denies any involvement, but he knows she’s the only person aside from himself that Val trusts to help him with anything in his personal life.

One thoughtful gesture that the pimp did come up with on his own though, is the stuffed shark plushies he buys him for the anniversary of his arrival in hell. The first sharks were just cute plushes that looked similar to the sharks that Vox kept, but after he had bought the entire line of them, Valentino started getting them specially made.

While their on and off again relationship is known to most, the two are actually technically married and have been for a few years.

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now | The Aftermath

House or Home?

It’s been about a year or so and they're finally looking at moving in together, properly this time, but Mouse is stubborn and Matty’s… Matty. 

“I hate it.”

Matty all but deflated at the three words, eyes sweeping over to where the estate agent was still stood in the kitchen doorway to the pretty four bedroom house they’d found in South Hampstead. 

In her defence, she still had that godawful smile plastered across her face, as though the entire statement bothered her none, but her eyes told a different story. They were screaming.

Matty couldn’t blame her, not when this was the eighth house Mouse had turned down this week alone. And it was only fucking Tuesday.

“Squeaks, babe.” Matty quietly attempted, mouth opening once more in an effort to get the woman to see sense. The house had everything they were looking for, it was more than perfect and how could it not be with an actual garden that Teddy could run rampant in and a sodding wine cellar to boot. 

But she cut him off, spinning around on her heel to shake her head at the agent in a silent apology. “Sorry. It’s just not gonna work.” It was all that was said before she took off, leaving Matty standing there awkwardly with the estate agent, hands tucked in his back pockets like a kid meeting their mum’s new boyfriend for the first time.

The woman, lovely girl named Mila, slumped slightly but kept up the act, pretending like all was fine and dandy, probably more than used to dealing with shit like this. 

“Sorry love, it’s just a big decision. You know?” Matty tried to soothe, lips pulling into a thin smile made mostly of regret. And it was exactly that– a big decision. 

It had been just over a year since that whole fallout had happened with the media and the sudden silence between them. And shit had cropped up every now and again after it; his management team had been a fucking nightmare to coerce and convincing themselves that this thing that they had was worth trying for had been daunting. But they’d put it all behind them in the end, they’d moved on.

And now here they were, buying a house. A home. Because Teds was getting bigger and bigger by the day, enough so that he now had a proper big boy bed and could ride a bike that took up a chunk of his bedroom. But also because Matty suddenly had a shit ton of crap to relocate since he’d moved out of and sold his London gaff, having slowly slunk his way into the flat he’d come to think of as home. 

All in all, Mouse’s was simply running out of room to hold them all.

Mila waved his apology off though with a single hand gesture, tucking the ipad she constantly held under her right arm. “It’s fine, I get it. Every client’s different.” She told him easily enough, but her smile was still so weary when she looked back at him, “I’ll get to looking for a couple more properties for you.”

Matty nodded, but let his eyes flit back over to the antique cabinets he could so easily picture Teds hiding in whilst they played a round of hide-and-seek, as well as the large kitchen island that they could all use for big get-togethers or family dinners. He gave a halfhearted sigh before allowing himself to take a small step back and follow Mila when she started to turn. “‘Spose this happens all the time then?” He asked her, hoping to fill the quiet walk from the kitchen to the front door.

There was a small pause, and then, “Sure.”

Wincing at that, Matty was more than a little thankful to be walking a step behind the woman, especially when they stepped out the front door onto a porch that screamed American Dream and spotted Mouse propped up against the Jeep’s passenger door. 

He tried to give Mila another polite smile when she told him that this had been the last viewing she would have for them for a little while and that she’d soon be in touch. Matty just shook her hand, thanking her again for her time, before they parted ways and he was walking back on over to the car.

He slid into his seat, hearing Squeaks follow, and didn’t say a word as he backed out of the paved driveway, admiring the stonework that lined the verdant grass and the fenced gate as they drove out of it. With one final glance at the house in the rearview mirror, he reached out to switch the radio on, the AC quickly following.

It was just as he made a left turn at the end of the quaint street that Matty heard a small intake of breath, he waited for the eventual…

“It just didn’t feel right.”

Even with the slight frustration he felt, Matty licked at his lower lip and looked right to hide the slight smile he wore. He hummed softly over the low buzz of the speakers, “You’ve said that about the last sixteen, baby.”

Mouse let go of a harsh breath and Matty felt his grin grow. “Well, then I guess the last sixteen didn’t feel right!” She retorted and threw her hands up in exasperation before crossing them over her chest, fingers moving to toy with the elbow of her sleeve. “I’ll know it when I see it, okay?”

Matty flicked an amused brow in the direction of the passenger seat and received a scornful glare for it in return, so he merely resorted to surrendering, glancing back out at the empty road ahead. “Okay.”

They stayed in a quiet little bubble the whole drive back to the flat. Matty’s mind stuck on the house they’d just viewed, on the long winding staircase, the extra bedrooms it offered, that waterfall shower. By his standards, it would’ve been perfect. It should have been.

It took a little wrangling but he did eventually manage to find a space to park on the overflowing sidestreet that their flat resided on when they finally got home, but it was at that point that Squeak’s phone rang. She moved on autopilot after answering it, unbuckling her seatbelt swiftly whilst Matty turned the car off and locked up.

She had a slight crease between her brow as they made their way up the few short steps which led to the front door and tugged a hand through her hair just as he worked the key into the worn gold lock. 

“Yeah, I can do that. Ah, just–” Matty listened to her pause in the entryway and glanced back, waiting by the radiator for her to shoot a quick glance his way so that he could ask a silent question with just a single look. She mouthed Teddy’s name before she was speaking into the phone again, only proving to puzzle Matty further. “Alright, can you hang on just a sec? Alright, thanks.”

Matty watched closely as she pressed the phone to her chest to muffle any sound the speaker might pick up and chewed on her lower lip. “What’s happened?”

Mouse raked her hand through her hair again and blew out a breath, “Teds has hit his head at school, they say he’s fine but the bumps come up quick. Need him to be picked up.”

It was immediate the way Matty’s pulse quickened at the implication of Teddy having been hurt and so he was pretty hasty as he moved to grab the keys he’d just set down on the hallway’s side, already gravitating towards the door before Mouse could even utter another word. “I can be there in ten minutes, just let them know it’ll be me coming, yeah?”

A year ago, Squeaks would’ve reeled a bit at the entire situation, what with Matty taking charge on matters where her son was concerned and on her not being the one to drop everything just to go and pick him up, but now she barely batted an eye. Instead, Matty watched on as she nodded, face full of relief as she stepped forward to press a chaste kiss to his cheek before she was speaking into the phone again, demanding to know what had gone down.

Matty slipped back out the front door with a slight rattle, his typical gait quickening as he hurried on over to the car, jumping in and starting it up once more before he could even think to worry about finding a better parking space than this when they eventually got back. Mind focused solely on getting to Teddy.

In the time Matty had known the kid, Teddy had only gotten sick twice. The first time had been this little bug, it had given him a bad belly and a bit of a cough but hadn’t affected him all that much. Still, Matty had fretted all the same, nursed him back to health and had barely left his side, even if that had meant listening to the same episode of Blue’s Clues on repeat for three days straight. The second though, that had been a lot more frightening.

Winter had rolled its way back around as it tended to do and the usual flu had taken its hold. Matty himself had picked something up off of one of their roadies during the promotional tour they’d been doing for the latest album in Europe. The tour had only lasted a couple of weeks, but he’d still been jumping back and forth between this city and that just so that he could see Teds and Squeaks as often as possible. But that in itself had also meant that Teddy had ended up catching the same bout of flu, too.

Matty had been beside himself when he’d first heard, guilty for the fact that he’d had the precious little gremlin sniffling down the phone on their next call. But Mouse had just laughed and shook her head at him, promising that Teds would be as right as rain soon enough. But not even she could have prepared for the way the kid had taken a sharp turn overnight.

Jamie had shaken Matty awake at four am, not long after they’d managed to make it to Sheffield and hunker down for the night in some swanky hotel. He’d been bleary eyed and still recovering from the relentless cough that had been wreaking havoc on his lungs for the past week when he’d rolled over to find his manager's nervous face staring down at him. 

Teddy’s fever has spiked, he’d said.

It had been a freight train of emotions after that. Jamie had somehow managed to score him a flight down from Manchester to London in less than a half an hour. But by that point Matty had already been in the back of a cab, trembling hands texting with Adi whilst the woman had updated him on every single thing that had occurred back home. 

Seemed that Teddy’s temperature had risen so quickly, having jumped from a steady 38 to 42 in less than an hour, which had prompted the most agonising hospital trip of Matty’s entire life. And that was including each time he’d fucked up and been wheeled there himself. 

It had taken him just over two hours to get down to them, so by that point Teddy had only just been properly seen and Mouse was in silent hysterics. Adi had ordered Finn to come pick him up from the airport, but back then the two of them had still been in this awkward sort of stalemate and so neither had spoken a word apart from when the other man had finally attempted to calm Matty’s anxious tapping. 

“He’ll be okay.” It was all that he had said, but Matty had found himself nodding along in quiet agreement all the same whilst he’d rattled his phone against his knee, ready to jump out of the car at a second's notice.

Driving over to collect the kid from school now, Matty felt that same agitation. The need to just be there, to see for himself that Teddy was okay. It was all that he could do to not hightail it over and fuck every traffic law he could somewhat remember just to ebb the sinking feeling that had wormed its way into his gut.

He did eventually manage to get there, making it in just under ten minutes after he’d accidentally ran a red and parked in a teacher's bay outside. 

The receptionist startled a tad at his sudden appearance, eyes probably as big as saucers and darting about the room in hopes to find Teds stood waiting there for him. But the kid was nowhere to be seen, and so Matty crossed the room to speak to her.

“Hi, here to collect Teddy? You rang, said something about him hitting his head?”

Matty had dropped Teddy to and from school more times than he could count, but collecting him from the office? That was something he’d never done before. Never even thought about, actually. And so he was fucking unsure on what the fuck kind of etiquette these people were supposed to use here. Did she need his ID, his passport? A picture of him and Teddy ice skating?

“Oh! Okay then, I’ll just fetch him for you. If you could sign him out here for me?” She pointed towards a clipboard and pen sat just off to the side and then smiled one last time before she wandered away.

Matty blinked and watched her slip out a side door. Was that it?

All he had to do was just sign the kid out? 

Matty released a heavy breath and shook his head at the thought, figuring it best to just do as was expected and have a word about it with Squeaks later on, maybe it was just something he was missing.

As it happened, he’d just finished scrawling down the last of his name when the door inside the office squeaked open causing him to jolt the y in Healy as his head snapped up.

It was as though all the tension he’d ever felt seeped out of him in that very moment. Years of stress from fucking performing, of trying to get through his own stupid exams back at school, and maybe even the trouble of having dealt with his parents and their shitty divorce. All of it just vanished when he looked over to find Teddy already grinning at him with his little book bag slung over his shoulder and a Spidey plaster stuck to the side of his eyebrow.

“Matty!” Teddy all but squealed as the kid darted away from the receptionist to barrel headfirst into his legs. Matty felt his heart give out a little at the sight of the tyke, obviously not as traumatised as he’d been expecting him to be.

“Alright, monster?” He replied softly, bending down a tad to scoop Teddy up into his arms, eyes flickering over every inch of his face just to be certain he wasn't hiding any other injuries. “Heard you had a bit of a tumble.”

Teddy nodded, almost excitedly, and Matty fought not to shake his head, utterly bewildered by the fact that the kid wasn't more phased. He almost wanted to scream, in truth. This amount of worrying wasn’t typical, alright? And he was fucking getting up there in age! All the stupid shit he’d managed to achieve during his livelier years and the life choices he’d made added up in the end, didn’t they? So it was an honest to God miracle that he hadn’t suffered a sodding aneurysm on the way over here, or something of the sort. 

“Just a little fall apparently.” Matty heard someone say and he looked up only to be reminded of the fact that the receptionist was still standing there, watching. She gifted him a sweet smile, eyes caught on the way Teddy clung to his neck and the way he appeared to cling back. “There’s an accident report in his bag for you to look at, they go home with all the little ones. The nurse said it wasn’t anything too big and that he should be fine, but it’s best to keep an eye on these things so if anything out of the ordinary does happen it’s best to take him to the local A&E.”

Matty felt his mouth go dry at the very implication and so he wet his lower lip just before he exhaled a little shakily. “Right,” He swallowed thickly, hand smoothing over a riot of curls and pausing on the small bump he felt at the top of Teddy’s head. “And the plaster?”

The woman blinked and weirdly Matty felt a little caught out, as though he was suddenly this afternoon's entertainment. He wondered briefly if she knew just who he was. 

“That’ll have been jotted down on the report too, but from what I heard it was just a little cut above the brow.” The receptionist answered him, extending an arm out to pat Teddy’s back before she stepped away again, “You really were brave today, Teddy.”

The kid puffed up at that, smiling proudly, but his eyes remained glued on Matty and so he returned the bright grin, kissing the side of Teddy’s head before he hitched him up further on his hip. “No stitches then?”

“Tiniest of scratches.” The woman assured him around a wide smile as she shook her head and waved his worries off.

Matty dipped his head in a slight nod, looking down at Teddy once more. “Anything else I need to do then, or?” He asked, letting that or drag out as he inched closer towards the door he’d previously barreled through.

“You should be good to go.” She told him, eyes still lingering. “It was nice to meet you though!”

“Yeah,” Matty replied as he struggled with the door, “you too.”

By the time the pair of them made it back outside and into the car Teddy was keeping up a constant babble, explaining (but not actually) just how he’d fallen and hit his head. From what Matty could make out it was when he was running to escape the fishmen? And so he could only guess that him and his mates had been playing a weird round of a tag at breaktime and Teddy had taken a plunge into the wrong kind of waters. 

“You’re sure you’re okay though, mate?” Matty asked him once they were about a minute or two away from the flat and Teddy’s ramblings had died out a tad. He glanced in the rear mirror to find Teds picking at the plaster above his brow.

“Uhuh.” Was the answer he received in turn and it was enough to dislodge the last of that worry that had been eating away at his chest. 

Matty figured then was as good a time as any to try and talk with him a little. The whole drive back from viewing that house, before they’d gotten the scare from the school, he’d been thinking and thinking. Enough to have concocted the beginnings of a small plan. 

“Remember how we was talking about looking for a new house, Teds?”

Matty’s thumbs tapped at the top of the steering wheel as he waited for a reply, oddly grateful for the small queue of traffic that sat up ahead. It would give them a bit more time.

“Yeah, you said a garden!” Teddy answered him and Matty figured he seemed excited enough about it all when the toe of the kid’s school shoe kicked the back of his chair. “That could mean a dog, right? Taylor has a dog!”

Matty fought back a laugh, the lad’s only just performed a stunt that’s gone tits up and landed him with a wound to the head but he’s more worried over when or if they’ll be getting a dog. Though, to be fair to him, a dog did sound nice. He could picture one now, out there on that grassy patch of land behind that particular house rolling about with Teddy. 

“That’s cool, mate. But I was just wondering what you thought about it all. A new house could mean a bigger bedroom for you, you know? Could have a couple sleepovers maybe, with a few of your friends from school.”

Matty didn’t have to glance back to know that Teddy’s eyes had shot open wide, he heard it all in that delighted little gasp he made. He chuckled.

“And remember my old house? How we used to make pancakes in the kitchen whenever you and mum would stay over?” Matty reminded him, eyes flicking up into the mirror to watch Teds nod at him, “Reckon we could do that again in the new house ‘cause it’d be a lot bigger, means we could all fit in there. Could even do your homework whilst we cooked in the evenings. How’s that sound?”

“Don’t like homework though.”

Matty laughed as the traffic started to pick up again, he moved to shift into gear. “Me neither, little man. But you’re a whole lot smarter than me so I reckon if we roped mum into helping too it’d all be done a lot quicker. And we could do that in the new house, don’t you reckon?”

“Yeah, and then I could get my Spidey walls!” Teddy exclaimed, bouncing in his carseat now, enough so that Matty was honestly a little fretful that he’d fall out of the thing. 

“You remembered that one, hey?” 

“You promised, ‘member!” Teddy shot back at him just as Matty turned onto their street, shoulders slumping in relief when he found that there was a space free a little further down.

“Yeah, I do, mate. Swear I haven’t forgotten.” He reassured and smiled to himself as he parked up and continued to listen to the dreams Teddy had for his future bedroom. And fuck anyone who thought he wouldn’t make them happen.

The two of them walked down the street hand in hand once Matty had pulled the monster free from his homemade rocking chair– and made sure that the thing was as secure as it should be. Teddy was happy to talk away, squealing when he caught sight of next door’s tabby cat and then bouncing in Matty arms when he had just about managed to scoop the kid up before Teds had gone bounding into the road to follow the skittish thing. 

By the time they’d made it in through the front door, Matty was sure he couldn’t take much more after the emotional rollercoaster he’d been on most of the day. 

“Squeaks?” He called out whilst he coaxed Teddy into kicking off his shoes and jacket, only just managing to peel the bookbag off the kid when Mouse came into view.

“Mama! Look at my Spidey sticker!” Teds called out as he tumbled on over to the woman, pointing to his head. In truth, it was a mystery how he didn’t take another tumble then and there, what with the way he was skidding about all over the floors. 

Matty let go of a weighted sigh and took to shucking off his own shit, dropping his boots onto the shoe stand before he hung up his jacket beside Teddy’s. When he stood back on his feet Teds had already hurried off into the living room, happy to be home from school again it seemed and not caring about the grape sized lump protruding from the side of his head.

Mouse quirked a brow at him when he stepped nearer, hiding her amused smile at his wary appearance, but still willing to let him wrap his arms around her waist and his head fall against her neck. “Okay, lovely?” She murmured into his hair and Matty felt himself nod slightly.

“Shattered.”

“Life of having kids, babe.” Squeaks chuckled, running a hand through his curls before resting it on the nape of his neck, “Thank you for going to get him.”

Matty pulled away to frown down at her, brow pinched. “Don’t thank me, you muppet. It’s weird.”

She simply resorted to snorting at the reply he’d given and then smiled, “I just appreciate it, is all. That alright with you?”

Rolling his eyes, Matty pinched her side before he slipped away. “Nope. But you can make it up to me by making dinner?”

He received a halfhearted scowl at the attempt but her smile was warm and soft and everything he loved, so he didn’t worry too much as he went to join Teddy on the settee.

Apparently, he hadn’t really needed to ask about dinner because it seemed as though Mouse had already had the foresight to have gotten a start on it when he’d been gone. So after he’d made sure that Teds was sweet and honed into his show, he’d peeled himself off the comfy cushions and headed into the kitchen to help out. 

Cooking together was something Matty had always loved. In the early days, he’d just been content to sit there and watch her work. But now he enjoyed helping out, even if it meant being bossed about or bumping into one another in the too small space.

It was just when they brushed against one another again, as she bent down to open the oven door that he only just narrowly missed toppling over the side of, that Matty could no longer hold his tongue on the subject.

“This place feels like it’s getting smaller and smaller by the day.” 

His words were merely met by a low hum whilst Squeaks continued to check on the food. Matty spared another halfhearted glance around the cramped kitchen, at the small wooden table and the tiny fridge tucked up under the counter. Then at the washing machine that was on its last legs and the pile of pots and pans they had no space for. 

“That house we saw was massive, kitchen was sort of like one of those you’d find in a catalogue, don’t you think?” He pressed a little further, tongue toying with the back of his front teeth as he struggled not to peer back over at her to witness her reaction. “Wouldn’t be bumping into one another all the time if we chose something like that.” He chuckled, but the sound of it was quickly cut short by the slam of the oven door.

“What, so you don’t like bumping into me anymore?” Mouse asked and Matty shifted to find her standing there by the hob, tea towel fisted in the hand she held at her hip. “‘Cause I do. I like coming home to you, to us spending time with each other, even if it’s in silence. I enjoy brushing past you in the kitchen and in the hallway, and even in the bathroom when you claim you have to brush your teeth the very second I do!”

Matty blinked.

“I love this flat, Matty. I love the fact that the rent’s cheap! That we’re chummy with the landlord and the neighbours aren’t half bad. That I can count on them to watch Teddy if something ever did happen!” Mouse exclaimed, staring back at him with those big eyes of hers, chest almost heaving.

“Teddy’s first steps were taken here!” She continued on, as though it had just slowly been building up inside her and had suddenly found its chance to blow. She paused, only to point up at the ceiling to where a splodgy patch of something hung above them, “See that stain? That’s from when Teds had his first bowl of bolognese. And that chip in the tile right there? That’s from when you dropped that planter you got me after you’d come home from tour!” 

Matty stared down at the chip now, noting that it wasn’t the only imperfection in the mosaic of tiles, but one that he could remember making as clear as day.

His silence must have lingered on too long though because Mouse then took his wrist and led him out of the kitchen, she stopped short to point at the plethora of guitars that crowded a corner of the living room. “And how about that mark on the wall? The one made when Ross and George came over for Halloween and all those guitars went toppling over as they chased after Teds.”

Teddy was watching them now, eyes having wandered away from the tele set and over to where Squeaks gripped his hand a little tighter to tug him along behind her and into the hallway. 

She paused by the door to Teddy’s room and Matty already knew what was coming.

“You told me you loved me here.” She murmured, stealing the breath right out of his lungs, before she then turned to spare a glance at the front door. “And we can’t forget that door.”

Matty breathed out a faint chuckle, his startled gaze moving to find hers in the dimly lit hall, only her eyes were glassy and darting back and forth between his own, almost pleadingly. 

“I know it’s too small. And I know we can’t stay here forever. But it’s home. It’s a place made up of all my best memories, Matty.”

He couldn’t think of anything to say to that. Because suddenly he realised that this was why she had claimed that she had hated every house that they had gone to look at. Why she had been so adamant on getting it right, on finding the right one. Why she had made up excuse after excuse to get out of viewings, to turn each one of them down.

Matty reached over to cradle her face before he pulled her in close, hands falling to hold her. He smiled softly when he caught a flash of movement just out of the corner of his eye. It was barely a gesture, let alone a nod of his head, but Teddy knew what it meant all the same and bolted over from where he’d been standing in the doorway of the living room to join them.

Matty understood then. That the flat was a part of them. But moving didn’t have to mean giving all their memories up. It could simply mean creating new ones, better ones. He only hoped that he could somehow convince Mouse of that. Because he knew that she wanted this too, deep down, she wanted a place that could be all of theirs, that they could mould and shift and shape into their own. But she was just so afraid to let go of the past, to take that next step, to leave the memories they’d made here together behind.

But he would show her it would all be fine. Somehow.

So with that thought, Matty went and did the one thing he knew would have to work.

A week passed after that emotional afternoon and things mostly settled. Matty hadn’t brought up another thing about house hunting or viewing talks with Mila, and so he could only guess that Mouse had been somewhat lulled into the sense of thinking that that had been the end of it all.

But then they were on their way back from Hann and Carly’s the next Wednesday, they’d had lunch and talked music, and Squeaks had been none the wiser when Matty had taken the Jeep down a wrong turn.

It was only when they’d pulled onto the street and the gravel beneath the tyres had levelled and softened out that Mouse had perked up a little in her seat. Her brow was pinched when she finally turned to face him, eyes darting around, “Think you missed an exit back there.”

Matty didn’t give her reply as he scanned the street for that familiar number, the weight of an unknown pair of keys sitting heavily in his right trouser pocket.

“Matty, do you even know where we are?” Mouse wondered again before she started messing about with the navigation system on the console. But Matty didn’t pay it much mind, continued to roll the car further and further down the street until they reached that fenced gate he’d exited through the last time they were here. “Matty?”

He came to a slow halt and switched the engine off, shooting her a sly smirk before he slipped out the side door.

“Matty!” Mouse called after him in a hiss, but Matty was already jogging up the few short steps to that painted white porch, a tiny set of keys already warming his palm. “Matty, what the fuck are you doing? You wanna get done for breaking and entering?”

Matty snorted softly to himself whilst he slotted the key into the lock and silently thanked the lovely Mila, reminding himself to get the girl a proper thank you gift if this all worked out the way he was hoping.

Squeaks called out to him one more time as he stepped over the threshold, a smile dawning on his face as he paused to wait for her to join him.

“Matty–” She was a tad bit out of breath but mostly exasperated by the time her fingers caught on the hem of his sleeve, but then she jolted beside him not a second later. He waited, peered over at her to watch her take in the familiar surroundings and smiled when the skin between her brows ultimately furrowed. “Why are we here, Matty? Isn’t this the last house we saw?”

Grinning, Matty linked his fingers through hers and gently lured her nearer. “Doesn’t hurt to take a second look around, does it?”

Mouse must have been more than a little perplexed by the whole ordeal because she didn’t fight him on the matter when he started to move them further inside— and in truth, he was really fucking thankful for that fact because he figured getting her inside would be the hardest task. And yet here they were.

The hallway back at the flat was about the same size as a twin bed and morphed into a narrow corridor which led onto the two bedrooms and the singular bathroom it had to offer. Here though, the entryway was wide and spacious. The current owners had a bench lined up on one wall where a pair of tall windows perched either side of the front door and the wooden floorboards that ran throughout the whole house homed a large vintage rug, which sat beneath a table in the centre of the room and held a rather bright bouquet.

Matty’s eyes stilled on the wide set of stairs though sat just behind the many flowerheads. “Couldn’t you picture Teds running about in here? Like, him storming in after school with all his mates behind him.” He wondered aloud, smiling as he took another step further inside. “And those stairs, I could see us taking Christmas photos there– like mum used to force me into doing back when I was a kid.”

He hadn't actually expected a reply and so he had to dampen his grin when she chuckled sweetly in return, “What, the three of us all decked out in matching jumpers?”

“Or pjs.” Matty countered before he led her a little further away, pointing out the large fireplace which they could use in the colder months and the downstairs loo that he could see becoming a lifesaver as Teddy grew older. “And look at this dining room, baby! We could have all the guys over at once in here, Adi and your mum too! Sunday roasts round ours, hey? Especially once the rest of the boys have littluns of their own.” 

She didn’t say much to that but her eyes were scanning, surveying even, and so Matty took that as a win and together they moved further forward into the famous kitchen. The very room she had claimed she hated the entire house in.

They paused by the entrance and Matty let himself lean against the door’s wooden beam, Squeak’s hand still holding his. Those antique cabinets looked the same as they had done a week prior, but the wash of colour seemed to illuminate under the setting sun that peered in through the old french doors.

“Could move about in here so freely.” Matty heard himself tease, voice soft though in hopes to not to break up the gentle moment. “Picture it. Making you pancakes on Mother’s day and helping Teds with his school work on the countertop there whilst we cook.”

Matty was surprised when Mouse was the one to shuffle on over towards the kitchen’s island, eyes mapping the vibrant fruit bowl and the cast-iron sink. 

He watched on as her gaze was drawn towards the back doors, to where another patio stretched far out on the other side. Slowly, he guided her closer to them, letting her get a feel for it all before he took the handle and opened them up, letting the light spring breeze flutter through. 

“Can you see it? A couple kids filling up the garden. Us standing here, or looking out that window there, to see Teddy laugh and smile while he darts about back and forth with a football or a kite.” Matty chuckled, already picturing it coming to life before his eyes, replacing the firepit in the back with a tyre swing and adding in a grill for him to man come summertime. “Could even get him a dog.”

Mouse shook her head even as they shared a smile.

“I know what you’re doing.”

Matty dragged his tongue across his teeth in hopes that it would dim the strength of his already too big grin. “And what’s that?”

“This, I get it.” Mouse replied, then she shrugged a single shoulder, “But it doesn’t change anything. The flats perfect for now, maybe soon we can look again and I might change my mind.” 

“You’re right stubborn you know that?” Matty acknowledged, because he’d hoped that by doing this, just them wandering through the empty property, that she might have been able to see what he saw. But still, he smiled down at her.

She widened her eyes mockingly in retort to that statement, forever used to hearing it. “Thought you’d’ve figured it out by now, rockstar.”

Matty simply hummed, feeling the slight breeze settle around them, rattling the metal wind chime which hung from one of the outside beams. He casted his sights out across the long patch of grass laid out before them and took a deep breath, mouth twitching ever so slightly. 

“You know, someday we’ll have to start making new memories.” He mentioned, tucking a hand into his jacket pocket.

“I know.”

It was hard not to fall apart then, especially when her eyes trailed over to meet his nervous smile. She tilted her head at him, confused. And Matty figured he just had to get it over with before his legs soon gave out. 

“So why not some place like this?” He wondered, fingers tightening around the hand he still held in his as he rocked back and settled down on one knee.

She didn’t dare move. Staring down at him and the pretty red box he now held, so still Matty wasn’t even sure that she was breathing. 

“Are you serious?”

A chuckle escaped him at the ask and it was surprising because it sounded so genuine, even with the way his hand currently shook. “I reckon we could make a couple nice memories in a place like this. So, you just gonna let me kneel here or will you marry me?”

Mouse tried to keep the smile from off her face, eyes sparkling as she stared back at him, but in the end the battle was lost and Matty ended up mimicking the strength of it.

“Is that a yes then?”

She laughed, bright and loud, then tugged him up to wrap her arms around him. When she finally pulled away her eyes were wet but he didn’t think he’d ever witnessed her happier.

“Of course it is, you idiot.” She sniffed, capturing his jaw between her palms, and she stared at him so earnestly that it made Matty feel so utterly seen. “But it really does need a new lick of paint.”

Squeaks must’ve seen the evident confusion that crossed his face right then because she chuckled and gestured her head over towards the back door. “The house. If we’re planning on living here then I want it to feel like ours.”

At the realisation Matty laughed in disbelief and dipped down to rest his forehead against her own.

“I think I can manage that.”

“You better.” She quipped, pulling him in for a slow kiss before she was giggling to herself. Her eyes were bright and alive even as she narrowed them menacingly at him and prodded at his chest with a finger, “But don’t pull anything like this ever again, you hear?”

“What, propose?” 

She rolled her eyes at the question but that smile of hers was relentless.

“Yeah alright, I hear you.”

[quitealotofsodapop]

So there's three different egg aus

Regular egg- regular stone egg stuff

Slow boiled stone egg- pregnant for centuries until s3

Kindred egg?- that little bit about the gang finding Wukong themselves and meet egg eventually

"#stone egg talk" - is for any general talk or au regarding the theory of Stone Eggs being a way for Stone Monkeys to reproduce asexually, though it has the potiential to kill the parent.

"#jttw stone egged au" - au for Wukong having grown a Stone Egg due to being under the mountain. In this Au Macaque learns about the egg early on and joins the gang. Stone Egg gets born at Thunderclap Monastery - baby is undecided. Possible alternate MK or Luzhen?

"#slow boiled stone egg au" - starts out the same as "#jttw stone egged au" with the major divergence in that Macaque is killed/dies before finding out that the Stone Egg exists, putting Wukong in a mental health state that causes the Stone Egg to refuse to be born until he gets his crap together. Rolls over into the LMK canon. Stone Egg born shortly after S3 special - becomes a version of Yuebei Xing.

"SWK is MK's stone egg dad au" renamed to "#century stone egg au" - SWK manages to dodge getting stone egg-pregged back in the Journey days, but after losing Macaque and a bunch of other stuff decides to deliberately trigger the process 500 years before the events of LMK canon. He's found by the reincarnation gang (+Mei's parents) a *bit* too early (20 something years), meaning that he's got to do the last leg of the process "awake/aboveground" after having isolated and literally buried himself for five centuries. Stone Egg in this case becomes MK.

And ofc in the "#The Monkey King and the Infant" au - it crops up as the method in which either the Lunar Node Twins (Jidu and Luohou) or Luzhen is created; via Wukong being trapped in a modified Trigram Furnace that started the process.

+Bonus: In aus where Mac dies/is dragged to Diyu like in canon, his body accidentally creates two Stone Eggs containing the Eclipse Twins (Rumble and Savage). He doesn't notice until somebody points it out to him.

I hope thats easy enough to follow!

[wonderlandleighleigh]

Midge & Lenny presenting an award together

"Please welcome Lenny Bruce, and Midge Maisel."

They step out on the stage, Midge's hand resting on his elbow as they step up to the microphone.

"Good evening," Lenny says, nodding out to the Oscars audience. "Now, we are supposed to stand here and talk about documentary film making, and how important a genre it is."

"And it is a very important genre," Midge jumps in. "So important you gave us an Oscar for ours last year."

"Yes a bunch of old geezers explaining that the current crop of comedians are spoiled babies who have never been arrested for talking about pornography to a paying audience," Lenny grumbles.

"Some idiot tells you your set sucks on Twitter and you wither and die," Midge complains. "As the kids say: Cry more."

Lenny chuckles. "It's currently streaming on Amazon for those interested. But no, we are not here to talk about ourselves."

"We're not?" Midge asks, confused. "I'm always here to talk about myself."

"I'm aware," Lenny volleys back with a grin. "But no, we are here to present the award for best documentary."

"But we won that award."

"Last year."

"Wait, it's not in perpetuity?"

"No."

"Crap."

Lenny chuckles. "The nominees for best Documentary are..."

[broomsick]

Hey norse pagans! *Leans close and whispers*

Reconstructing historical festivals and holidays is especially tough for us, isn’t it? Because there’s just so little evidence of anything, and even though Håkon the Good gave us a pretty good idea of some historical practices, it’s far from enough to have a clear idea of the actual celebrations, right? Plus, I bet your schedule’s tightly packed and that at least twice a year, you find yourself going: “Is it already [insert holiday]???”, and “crap, I forgot to prepare this or that for [insert holiday]”. Well my friend, let me tell you two important tips I’ve learned from years of trying to keep up with the proverbial wheel of the year. The first: holidays aren’t mandatory, especially not if you practice paganism alone, and especially since we know so little of holiday celebrations within germanic tribes, and during the Scandinavian Iron Age. Second *leans closer*: there’s nothing keeping you from making up your own festivals! If history hasn’t left us a lot of evidence on how your main deity/deities was worshipped, who’s to keep you from picking a spot on the calendar and going: “this day is all about [insert deity]”. You’ll have the possibility of listing out pre-determined rites and offerings. Are you going to sing songs? Recite poems? Decorate? Is there a symbol that’s prominent on that day? There are many ways to honor deities, and it’s fun to give oneself a chosen structure to follow when it comes to deity worship. Plus, it’s all the more rewarding to celebrate the seasons according the weather in one’s own area! I’m usually not in the mood to celebrate the coming of spring when it’s still -30 Celsius outside. In that regard, I give myself the leeway to diverge from historical practice and to celebrate the coming of spring when its does actually start to feel like spring! The crops are reaped a bit earlier than the 31st of October, in my area. For this reason, my Álfablót usually happens halfway through that month, and is spread out onto three days (the first for the ancestors, second for the álfar, and third for Freyr). So don’t hesitate to think up your own little holidays, and play around with the freedom it gives you! Just to give you guys a few ideas of where to start with this, I’ll add a little “holiday starter pack” right below!

Step one: choose the date! Is there a day of the week that’s associated with your chosen deity/deities? A season, or type of weather in particular? Maybe a time of day?

Step two: figure out the general “mood” of the holiday. Do you want it to be a time to party? To be grateful? To connect with loved ones? To be at peace? Or a time of self-reflection and silent introspection? (Every year, I dedicate a full day of silence to Víðarr.) What’s the goal of the holiday? What are you celebrating?

Step three: think of some ritual offerings! It’s no big deal if, for whatever reason, you can’t actually offer them up: the idea of these offerings will suffice to help you define this holiday better. Will you be offering a specific food, or drink? Or a particular craft, or a depiction of an animal?

Step four: will you be decorating? If so, what’ll serve as the theme for decorations? Are you going to buy them or make them yourself?

Step five: is there an activity, or activities that you would want to engage in to honor the deity/deities on this day? If so, what’ll it be? I love to cook to honor Freyr, for example (this year, I made a seasonal pumpkin soup in His honor)! You could also go swimming for Rán and Ægir, or take a walk in the woods for Jörð. What do you think would please the deity/deities this day is dedicated to?

Step six: will you be inviting someone, or people over? It doesn’t matter if they’re pagan or not: if you want to celebrate with friends or family, any excuse is good to invite people over! Still, even if you celebrate alone, you’re certain to have lots of fun! So don’t worry about this last step if you feel uncomfortable with it.

[probably-writing-x]

Summer Heat - Chapter One

Summary: Rafe had met his match when he met you. Both completely opposite and all too similar - the Kook and the Pogue who worked for his father; the hot headed boy and the girl who never backed down. And as summer rolls around on the island, tensions run high amongst the hottest enemies that OBX has ever seen.

Word Count: 2.6K

Warnings: Cursing, some (ish) sexual references, mentions of losing a parent

Author's Note: Omgggg I’m so excited to start this series !! I already have sooo many ideas for it. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter I want to hear alll of your opinions !! Much much much love to all of you, angels x

Rafe had grown up getting everything he wanted. As much as he was reluctant to admit it at times, he knew he had always been fed from the silver spoon. He could have half of the island wrapped around his little finger if he really wanted to. Everybody knew it. From his friends that were more like followers, to his girls that were more like groupies, to his family that were more like business partners. All of it was more and more a part of the personality that made the infamous Rafe Cameron.

You, having grown up in The Cut, were one of the many people that worked for him and his family. You'd taken the job working on the boat, you and John B both working together. It was mundane but it covered your share of the bills and kept your older sister off of your back. Since your father had passed away a few years ago, it was really just you and her left. That's how you'd become such good friends with John B - you'd been through the same shitty few years on the shitty side of the island you called home. And there was something comforting about going through it with someone that knew how it all felt. Working together was just another part of that - a way to make a crap life a little less bad.

Though, it was safe to say dealing with Rafe's input was one of the worst parts of your job - he was always on your case about every part of the work. He would pick you up on the slightest things, tell his father if you were even a few minutes late, made sure to give you enough jobs to last the day. It hadn't taken you long to start arguing back with him, defending yourself when he expected you to stay silent. And, though people might think he was the most hot headed a person could get, it seemed he had met his match in you.

"Oi!" John B shouts from the other side of the deck, "Are you going to help or what?"

You roll your eyes at him and stand up from where you'd been enjoying the sun from the deck. It was a scorching day on the island, the sun beating down relentlessly - even worse on the dock of the yacht that seemed to be allergic to any type of shade;

"Ward's not meant to be home for another hour, which means we have at least half an hour before we even need to start."

"Right, but if you grow up and do it now, we can slack off later," He points out, wiping the sweat from his brow.

The two of you were like siblings to each other - him the mature and logical one that liked to keep the peace, and you the unhinged argumentative one that seemed set on disturbing the peace.

"Touché," You walk over to where he's stood over the pile of used scuba gear, a hose in one hand to start cleaning it all with freshwater.

You pick up the other hose and spray it a couple of times to test it out. Watching it splash down the deck and trail towards the drainage, not paying attention to it bounce off in the other direction to spray over John B.

"Do you mind?" He raises his eyebrows at you, shaking off the water from his arm.

"I'm sorry I almost drowned you," You roll your eyes at him, spraying the hose another time in his direction.

"Really? You want to start that?" John B laughs, dropping the buoyancy jacket from his hands to turn his attention to you.

He sprays in your direction and it splashes down the front of your crop top, forcing a squeal from your lips.

"Oh you are dead!" You return, splashing him back so that it soaks his hair down to his head.

He goes at you again and soaks your outfit completely, water dripping down your shoulders and down your arms.

John B laughs and shakes his hair out, raising his hands in defeat, "Okay okay stop, I'm done."

He pulls a hand over his face and your hands down either side of your hair to slick it away from your face, welcoming the cool it brings you against the blazing heat.

"Good to see we pay you for some quality work here!" An all too infamous voice calls out from the other end of the boat.

You look up to see Rafe coming towards you, his skin sun-kissed in the heat. He crosses over the ramp from the wooden dock and onto the deck, long strides drawing him closer to you. There's a white linen shirt hanging on either side of his torso, exposing the dips of his abs and the way they seem more prominent with his tan. No. Ignore it. This is Rafe, it didn't matter what body came with that.

"We?" You scoff, "I'm not so sure you're responsible in the slightest for paying us. But go ahead, run along and tell Daddy if you need to."

He clenches his jaw but doesn't say anything for just a second, "I could get you fired with a click of my fingers, so watch your tone."

John B looks at you with warning in his eyes when he can tell you're on the verge of snapping back at Rafe. You struggled to hide your feelings at the best of times, but it seemed all the more impossible when it came to this boy.

You'd known of him when you were little, the two of you meeting when your father used to work the restaurant at the club. As a little boy, Rafe was a lot more tolerable than he was now - though you were sure that he didn't remember you. Your first memory of him was when you were sat waiting for your Dad's shift to end, you no older than six. You'd fallen and cut your knee and Rafe had found you, much taller than you even when he was a kid, and he'd stolen an ice cream from the buffet bar to give to you. He'd told you to stop crying because his Dad had told him that big kids didn't cry, but he knew from his sister Sarah that ice cream could cure a lot of things. He looked at your knee, the blood spilling down your leg, and he held a napkin over it whilst you ate the ice-cream he'd given you. When your Dad came to find you, he'd pulled you away and told you to not hang around with those 'Kook Kids' again. You'd looked over your shoulder as you left and watched as Rafe was getting told off by his own father, likely for disappearing, or perhaps for thieving from the buffet. He'd looked at you with a sadness in his eyes that didn't seem to dispel.

That same sadness, though mixed with a few other things, still seemed to remain all these years later.

"You can both leave, I've got some business to take care of," Rafe states simply, "Finish this up tomorrow."

John B grabs his hat and his bag from the side and nods, "You got it," He disappears around the side of the deck, glancing back at you with that sort of look in his eyes that tells you get the fuck out of there while you've got the chance.

"You know you shouldn't leave this stuff without cleaning it," You point out, "The salt can damage your gear. That's why we have to clean it."

"Then we can buy new stuff," His words are a cold contrast against the blistering summer heat.

You roll your eyes, certain in that moment that you and Rafe could not be any more different if you tried, "Easy life isn't it, Rafe Cameron?"

"Easier if you weren't here."

You're silent, a strange tension between the two of you that never seemed to disperse.

"Your top is dripping over the deck," He comments matter-of-factly.

He seems to look at you with a darkness in his eyes, though different from the way he seemed when he was angry. It wasn't an anger when he was with you - it was more like fury, a burning inside of him that seemed to echo in the tension in his muscles.

You cock a brow at him and lift one of your arms to pull your crop top over your head, quickly and in one motion, exposing the thin cover of the bikini top you wore underneath, "Yeah, you're right, wouldn't want water on the boat would we?"

"Was that necessary?" He cocks a brow at you, his eyes drifting south towards your chest, the way the droplets of water curled around the curves of your breasts.

"Keep your dick in your pants, Cameron."

~~~

"You know your life would be a hell of a lot easier if you didn't argue with him all the time," John B points out, sat on the dock next to the Chalet, his legs dangling over the edge, a beer can in his hands

"And what's the fun in that?" You tilt your head up from where you lay sprawled out over the wooden surface, one hand coming up to your face to block your eyes from the sun.

"The woman raises a good point," JJ comments, matching your pose as he was sprawled out over the small space of their boat.

"Plus," You lean up onto your elbows, "He thinks he can walk all over us just because his father's got money, I'm sick of it."

"His father having money is the reason that we can get a bit too," John B points out, standing up and going over to the cooler of beers that was already dwindling in supplies, "So please keep your mouth shut so that I can keep my job."

You push yourself up to stand and step through the barrier of the dock to stand on the side of the water, your hands reaching behind your back to hold the fence and steady yourself, "I can't make any promises."

You stretch your arms above your head and dive into the water, kicking below the surface to submerge yourself in the relief of the cold water. When you break the surface, you turn around to see the boys watching you from the deck.

JJ smirks at you, nudging John B knowingly before he says, "Damn, that was hot."

~~~

You're back at the Cameron's house the following day, pulling up in front of the mansion in your beat up car that seemed a stark contrast to the world around you. The car had belonged to your father, and had been passed down to you when your sister refused to drive it. It was littered with scratches and had a dent on one side, and the passenger side window didn't ever close, and it only took cassette tapes despite this being the 21st Century.

As you pull up today, Rafe is parked in front of your spot. The hood of his car is open and he's bent over, studying the inner workings like it were a foreign language. When he hears your door slam, a little too abruptly, he is quick to comment.

"You're late."

"Did you miss me that much?" You cock a brow, walking around the side of his car so you can see under the hood too, "What's wrong with this?"

He looks up at you for a second, his eyes squinting a little against the smoke that was just starting to bellow up from the vehicle, "I don't-" He stops himself, "It's fine, just go to the boat."

You look over, walking around to the front of the car so that you stood next to him, your shoulder bumping his arm as you tap at the source of his problem, "Your fuel cap is busted, radiator cap should solve it."

Rafe pulls away from the car to stand up straight, like a reminder of just how much he towered over you, "Are you kidding?"

"I probably have a spare in my trunk," You comment, standing up too so that you can face him, the tips of your shoes almost brushing with his.

"I don't need your help, (Y/N)."

You smirk and make sure your eyes are in direct contact with his as you state, "Oh, don't worry, I wasn't offering."

With that, you turn on your heel and make your way towards the house, diverting towards the gate that would lead you down towards the dock. You couldn't quite make out the feeling in your chest - a little bit of pride at your tiny victory, and a little bit of the typical quickening of your heart beat that only Rafe seemed to be able to cause.

~~~

Rafe gives up on his car not long after, storming back into the house as if the anger was practically radiating off of him.

“I need Dad’s keys, have you seen them?” He calls over to Sarah, who’s laying across one of the couches with a book in one hand, the other arm tucked under her head.

“Why would I know where they are?” She retorts, setting her book down and stretching her arms back above her head.

“Can you help me look for them?” Rafe snaps, “I’ve got somewhere to be and my car’s busted.”

“Find them yourself,” She scoffs, “Or get John B or (Y/N) to help you with your car.”

Rafe stops his search for the keys and looks at her flatly, “Are you kidding?”

“Why do you hate them so much?” His sister shakes her head, “They’re not that bad and you act like (Y/N) is the worst person on the planet.”

“She’s not-“

As if on cue, you walk through from the garden, sliding open one of the large glass panel doors. There were beads of sweat around your neck from being in the sun, the material of your halter neck top rising a little over your torso. Rafe finds himself trailing his eyes over you before he has a chance to stop himself.

“Perfect!” Sarah smiles at you, “(Y/N), if you’re not too busy can you help my pain-in-the-ass brother to fix his car so he can stop stressing out?”

You look from her and onto her brother, the way his chest is rising and falling like even the sight of you irritated him beyond normal, “I don’t think he wants my help. I’m just here to get the key to the locker, we’ve got stuff to put away.”

Rafe looks at you directly, as if he hopes his gaze will eventually pierce through your confidence and give him the upper hand, “I’ll get you the key, if you get me that cap.”

It’s impossible to hide the smirk over your lips, “Hard bargain, Rafe Cameron.”

“Just do it,” He rolls his eyes, storming out of the room just as quickly as he’s entered.

Sarah glances up at you and shakes her head, “I’m sure you make him worse than normal.”

You laugh and nod your head a little, “Yeah, probably, but someone’s got to do it.”

You leave then and go out to your car, where Rafe is already waiting. He’s leant back against the side of it, his elbows leaning back on either side of the roof and his ankles crossed as if you had kept him waiting for a short version of forever.

”Do you mind? You’ll ruin the paint,” You bat his arm away and it evokes a deep laugh from him, one of mocking more so than amusement.

“On this thing? I think the paint is the least of your concerns,” He comments, glancing down at the scratches that wound around the side of the doors.

“Do you want to fix your car or not?”

He’s quiet then.

“This was my Dad’s car,” You mention, grabbing what you needed from the trunk before closing it, “And until it stops driving, I see no reason to get rid of it.”

“Your Dad,” Rafe studies your face, “Yeah, I remember him, he used to work at the club, right?”

As you walk past him, you find yourself having to swallow the lump in your throat before you can think of responding properly, “Yeah.”

“How did he-“

“Can you stop?” You snap at him, twisting off the old cap and fixing the new one in place over the fuel pump.

“Can I stop what?”

You stand up from the hood of his car and slam it shut, “Pretending like you give a shit. I don’t need your pity.”

It’s like something switches off in Rafe then, a light going out before your eyes had even adjusted to it being there, he straightens up his shoulders, lets out a cold blooded laugh through his lips, “Oh I don’t pity you, you Pogues are all just as bad as each other. Criminals, nothing more.”

“Well, if you don’t mind, this criminal has to get back to working on your boat,” You step forward and swipe the locker key from his hand, “I’ll try my best to not steal anything whilst I’m there.”

He watches you walk away, tastes the sarcastic air left in the wake of your words, breathes in the lingering scent of your unwavering confidence. And he can’t bring himself to look away from you. But, for just a brief moment, Rafe realises that he doesn’t want to.

[dailyanarchistposts]

Biotechnology and the future of humanity

The End Of Diversity

GM technology is also set to plunge countless thousands of people into poverty by using GM plants or tissue cultures to produce certain products which have up until now only been available from agricultural sources in the majority world. For example, lauric acid is widely used in soap and cosmetics and has always been derived from coconuts. Now oilseed rape has been genetically modified to produce it and Proctor & Gamble, one of the largest buyers of lauric acid, have opted for the GM source. This is bound to have a negative effect on the 21 million people employed in the coconut trade in the Philippines and the 10 million people in Kerala, India, who are dependent on coconuts for their livelihood. Millions of smallscale cocoa farmers in West Africa are now under threat from the development of GM cocoa butter substitutes. In Madagascar some 70,000 vanilla farmers face ruin because vanilla can now be produced from GM tissue cultures. Great isn’t it? 70,000 farming families will be bankrupted and thrown off the land and instead we’ll have half a dozen factories full of some horrible biotech gloop employing a couple of hundred people. And what will happen to those 70,000 families? Well, the corporations could buy up the land and employ 10% of them growing GM cotton or tobacco or some such crap and the rest can go rot in some shantytown. This is what the corporations call ‘feeding the world’.

Poisoning the earth and its inhabitants brings in big money for the multinationals, large landowners and the whole of the industrial food production system. Traditional forms of organic, small-scale farming using a wide variety of local crops and wild plants (so-called’ weeds’) have been relatively successful at supporting many communities in relative self-sufficiency for centuries. In total contrast to industrial capitalisms chemical soaked monocultures, Mexico’s Huastec indians have highly developed forms of forest management in which they cultivate over 300 different plants in a mixture of gardens,’ fields’ and forest plots. The industrial food production system is destroying the huge variety of crops that have been bred by generations of peasant farmers to suit local conditions and needs. A few decades ago Indian farmers were growing some 50,000 different varieties of rice. Today the majority grow just a few dozen. In Indonesia 1,500 varieties have been lost in the last 15 years. Although a plot growing rice using modern so-called ‘High Yielding Varieties’ with massive inputs of artificial fertilisers and biocides produces more rice for the market than a plot being cultivated by traditional organic methods, the latter will be of more use to a family since many other species of plant and animal can be collected from it. In West Bengal up to 124 ‘weed’ species can be collected from traditional rice fields that are of use to farmers. The sort of knowledge contained in these traditional forms of land use will be of great use to us in creating a sustainable future on this planet; it is the sort of knowledge the corporations are destroying to trap us all in their nightmare world of wage labour, state and market.

[aquamine-amarine]

It's time for Part 2 of "I hate the fucking anime adaption so fucking much". Part 1 is here.

I've known about this since the start of the month since Nakayoshi posted a black and white ad in the January 2024 Issue talking about it, it just took a while for Marukuji to actually post about it in color. And it still doesn't make it any better.

That looks NOTHING like Amu. Holy shit is it bad. I had to do a double take when I first saw a cropped version of the ad on Twitter because that didn't look like Amu at all. It's horrible. Ikuto looks so fucking awful too. Why the hell is he wearing purple too? It looks way too similar to Utau. It's all so bad and out of character, and it's worse than usual because it's also a lottery. Yeah no, fuck this, I ain't buying it. Last year when they made that new anime art I refused to buy anything with the new art on it and I only bought the ribbons, purses, and mirrors. I hated it that fucking much.

Why do people think this is good? Why? I'm seeing so many people on here and in the Japanese fandom fawn over this and I don't understand why. There's so many yes men in these fandoms I swear, like you're all too afraid to say something is shit when it's shit. And this is shit. It leaves such a bad fucking taste in my mouth that they got the old anime character designer to do another set of merchandise. I really wanted that crap from last year to be a one time thing, and then this happened. Really makes me sick thinking about a reboot potentially bringing that old character designer back… God no. This is terrible. The art is so bad.

I know Rozen Maiden is doing the same thing lately, with the 2013 anime character designer making new art for merchandise and lotteries, the difference is that the 2013 Rozen Maiden anime art is actually good. It was a massive improvement over the horrid Nomad art. They never ever use the Nomad art anymore, and God I wish they would treat SC! the same way. Make a reboot, make merchandise using that new anime art, and please pretend the old anime art doesn't exist anymore.

I'm still convinced they will reboot it, with all the money they're hoarding from the constant new merchandise. Here's hoping we get some nice news after the sequel manga starts. Unfortunately right now they're going to focus on the Vampire Dormitory anime adaption. Shoujo anime adaptions are making a comeback, and they choose to give this trashy manga an anime adaption... sigh. And we still don't have a start date for the Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card Arc anime sequel either. I guess they just don't want it competing with these two anime at the moment, so they're waiting.

I need some eye bleach, I can't stand looking at this fucking art anymore.

[yellowcry]

Cornplate

I heard about Encanto from one of my friends. Luckily, my local shop just had cheap copies

A crack fic because why not?

I remember it as if it happened yesterday. Probably because it happened yesterday.

I was shopping in our local cheap convenience store, when my eyes spotted something. A CD with Encanto. A Disney Movie my friend didn't stop talking about. I was somehow intrigued as she really praised it. Part of me was surprised. It was 2024, who the hell uses CD disks in that time?

Luckily, my parents hadn't update our PC since before my birth, so it wasn't a problem.

For my huge relief, it was at markdown. How could anyone miss a chance like this?

The first thing that made me feel uncomfortable happened when I unpacked the box at home. Some idiots decided that, apparently, putting two covers was a brilliant idea. They looked exactly the same, only that the second was black and white.... Okay, maybe it FAR from exactly the same. But anyway, it was cheap. There probably would be some defects.

So, as I had beaten up the computer system unit to make it run and inserted a disk, the image immediately floated. CRAP! It's a virus... PC is probably dest—

"Hola," I froze, staring at the screen. Seeing a young man in here. "You had found a true version of the movie. The one that Disney had tried to destroy." Okay, what the heck? "Please, spread this version, the world has to knpw the truth about my wife and descendants."

Okay, why does it sound like I'm in some cheap creepypasta story?

I had leaned back in my chair, opening a pack of snack. Well, I had to do the best comfort, right?

A corn growing in a pot appeared on the screen.

"Open your eyes." An old woman asked, holding a girl. The magic corn of the Madrigal family? What? What are stories are they doing these days...

The visual was showing a young old woman (not really old then) and a man that I had seen in the beginning standing in a burning field. The entire food was destroyed. But then a man dropped dead because why not and one last corn grew bright and created a huge field.

"When my children came of age, the corn had given them magic gifts to serve our fields!" I listened to the explanation, intrigued. I wonder what would a girl's gift be.

Time switched to a years later. Pacing through the routine where a Tía Pepa rains on the crops. Julieta cooks. Dolores listens to the parasites. Camilo shapeshifts to have better physical strength. Isabela grows corn and Luisa plows the land. Such a good strong family! Everyone has a... What do you mean Mirabel doesn't have a gift??

Apparently, her door had dissapeared! Poor girl, but at least her family does really good even so. Mirabel is really sweet! She's such a good prima to Tonito! And she had even make a plush corn for him!

Gladly, Antonio got a gift. I breathed out with relief, knowing that the family was good.

But then... The family took a picture with corn... They took it all and Mirabel hadn't get any! Really sad... I wish her all corn in the world!

WHAT?? THE CORN IS WITHERING?? Oh no! What if they'll be left without any food? But once Mirabel calls everyone, everything looks fine. But it was definitely wrong ten seconds ago?

Honestly, this family just couldn't't catch a break. Abuela confirmed that the corn is indeed in danger. And at the next morning Luisa acted really off.

Oh, I guess being forced to work all day wasn't fun. I thought she was happy being useful, but she is breaking from the weight of a plow on her shoulders. At least we now knew about a vision.

Bruno's room looked awful. So abandoned. You can't grow anything in here. And lots of stairs! Too many for it to be legal! And the vision has Mirabel. Of course, it's always the protagonist in the centre of everything.

Tía Pepa told how her brother ruined her wedding corn but making ber rain too hard. She ended up flooding it. And while Mirabel was bisy with a vision the family did... something. Either preparing for the dinner or crying because her gift and corn are withering.

Mirabel in a empty field. Crap, it so tense! I bit my finger, waiting for the outcome.

The dinner was disastrous. All corn is rotting! Everyone saw Mirabel in a vision. And rats grabbed it taking it into the walls! Whre a strange man lives. Honestly, if I was Mirabel, I would immediately move the hell outta here. I mean, sure, it's her Tío. But why the hell does house have an apartment inside its walls??

No, dude, I understand everything, but how tf did you manage to live in the freaking walls for ten years? Oh, well, I probably should had expected that.

They take another vision where Mirabel hugs Isabela. Honestly, Isa was pretty rude through most of the movie. But that's what siblings are for.

Their talk grows into another musical number where Isabela makes a corn that looks like somebody had injected drugs into it. Pretty normal, I'm seeing it every odd Tuesday.

The moment where Mirabel and Abuela are arguing are literally makes me cry. And the corn is all dead! NO, NO, MIRA, SWEETY, DON'T GO!

At the next morning we get to see Abuela's story. The loss of her husband made her too closed and protective. And feeling like thay have to deserve the food. I had never thought Abuela had suffered so much...

But, together the family can make a new field even without their gift! And, what's even better, the entire village goes to help. They wanted to pay back after all those years of food supply from the Madrigals.

In the end of the day, they are family. And they are in it together. This movie needs to stop being so damn sweet, or I'm gonna flood my floor with tears like I'm Pepa.

The magic returns? But, now, the Madrigals are imperfect! I hope they will get even better!

How could Disney lie about the true version? They so annoying! No, listen, guys, how about we sue them to make a true version of Encanto get the fame it deserves?

[gaykarstaagforever]

Considering it has been in the public domain since 1962 (and for longer in the US), anyone and everyone can publish an edition of the Dracula novel. And since everyone is already familiar with it, you really don't have to worry about marketing it.

But also, like...there are HUNDREDS of editions of this book out there. Why would someone buy yours over another one? And also, vampires are cool.

All this taken together leads us to the amazing variation of covers for this book over the last 127 years.

(Some of these may be for strictly digital editions, or fanart. People who upload to Pinterest are garbage at providing accurate descriptions. But they're all going for the same cover-art vibe, so I've included them.)

(Also I tried to avoid comic book / children's illustrated adaptations, only because those aren't literally the same Stoker novel. ...But some of those are fun, so get bent, me.)

This will be more than one post. There are a lot of these. I'll cross-link them when I'm done.

The original 1897 edition, and still probably the best. LOOK at this. Blood red, narrow, imposing font on sickening yellow, the leg of the R dropping below the line as an ominous red fang, pointing to Stoker's name. Golden Age of novels, indeed. Just goddamn perfect. This is going to be hard to top, right out the gate.

Valiant effort. Just the original with roasted edges, with a stock photo of Castle Bran and a giant full moon draped over it. This castle + moon thing comes up a lot.

Also I have no idea what this sequel by "Dacre Stoker" is the hell about. This book is public domain so anyone can publish whatever fanfic / sequels they want about it.

...Dacre Stoker is apparently legit Bram's great-grandnephew, and is a gym teacher from Quebec who used to be an Olympic athlete and coach. Now he just writes or co-writes Dracula books. Good on him, I suppose.

Obviously an edition post the Coppola movie, what with the castle that is very nearly the one from the movie, and the field of impaled people at sunset. It's fine for what it's going for, I guess.

This is the one from the hardback edition I have, in that this is on the dust jacket I threw out because fuck those things. The actual book is black with a simple red title font.

I don't know what the legal status is of whoever using this Boris Vallejo painting for this. I assume they paid to use it. Especially since they edited the expected half-naked lady out of the original:

I love Vallejo, but using a desaturated, censored version of this kick-ass painting? Either use the original and rock the vibe, or fuck off. Lame.

...Blue? Crude sketch of a random castle? White font? I mean I know the text is free so you want to keep production costs low, but this is just lazy crap.

Nice 1960s theater poster vibe with this one. Good work.

When I think Dracula, I don't think "2010s gritty emo reboot of Red Riding Hood." Don't know why anyone would. But I'm sure the original emo / goth PC wallpaper you stole from 2006 made someone's Evangelical coworker slightly annoyed.

Simple, artful, story-relevant. Font is going a bit too hard with the Steampunk signage thing, but it's inoffensive.

This is...a choice. I mean, this IS a scene from the book, and the art is okay. Just a weird choice for the cover, especially with the obviously lazy lasso tool selection and cropping. This doesn't really represent the overall tone of the novel, which is not about old men being irritated. I guess it is certainly distinctive...?

[kharmii]

Here me out, -I spent a bunch of time thinking about this at work- but I think that Julius Novachrono gave Captain Yami a nudge to recruit Zora Ideale to the Black Bulls. He didn't come right out and order him to, but this is how it went down.

-So in an act of savage evil, a member of the Purple Orcas murders Zara Ideale because he's a commoner not knowing or caring that he's a single dad with a son who is now an orphan. Julius knows about Zora and even says, "Is that...?" when the child runs by him while he's visiting Zara's grave.

Despite knowing about the existence of Zara's son, Zora slips through the cracks and has a tough childhood. Revenge fantasies are constantly cycling in his thoughts throughout the years, and he is clever like his dad focusing on traps that use others' power against them while honing his magical technique. When he's in his late teens, he seeks revenge on the people who killed his father. While he successfully injures them, there's blow back that severely injures his face. It's unclear the details, (because I haven't fleshed it out in my mind) but it could be that his Uno Reverse Card spell got messed up causing some of the attack against him to get through that burned his lower face and neck. It could be a spell went wrong forcing him to draw runes on his own body spur-of-the-moment which caused him to injure himself. IE: His ash nature almost made himself ash.

Either way, he ended up injured on the point of death, and only an accidental tapping into forbidden magic saved his life but left him disfigured and forced to wrap part of his face, neck and chest to hide it. Years go by, and he gets better at exacting his revenge without any pain coming back on him. He is really, really careful and will only attack when he's 100% sure of success. He's very grounded in reality and has a good concept of his own mortality after that traumatic incident where he almost died.

Fast forward to Zora's early twenties when he has violently put a lot of corrupt magic knights in their place. Since anyone has since failed to apprehend Zora, complaints about a vigilante eventually get to Marx and through him, the Wizard King. The corrupt magic knights don't want to admit they were targeted for being dirty, so they frame it like they were approached by a male prostitute in a slutty little crop top who offered to turn tricks for cash. When they refused -they are pure magic knights who would never give into such temptation- Zora in a rage beat them up and ripped them off. "You'll know him when you see him", they claimed.

Julius, through a spirit of adventure, looks into it personally. At first, he believes the lies he was told, mainly that Zora does look like a typical street worker who's a perfect ten from the neck down but sort of a butterface. He eventually works out who Zora is and the motivation behind his actions. He feels sorry for him and doesn't want to punish him for doing them a useful service, albeit something illegal. The corrupt among them have it coming and should be kept on their toes.

One day when Yami is in the area, Julius tells him about Zora -his circumstances behind why he does what he does- and asks him to deal with him how he sees fit. He doesn't come out and ask Yami to recruit Zora, but he hopes that he will at least talk sense into him, even if he's not interested in letting him join. Yami finds Zora hard at work beating the crap out of some magic knights he believes deserve a comeuppance, and in a rage, Zora attacks him thinking he's part of their group.

Zora finds himself outclassed by Yami. He thinks....well, it was good while it lasted...... He believed death was imminent only to be taken by surprise when Yami throws him a Black Bulls cape with the 'take it or leave it' attitude.

Zora stews on this for weeks-months-years, like he wants to be a magic knight like his dad, but it would be awkward as frick to just show up at the Black Bulls base and confront a room full of strangers who might be evil people who'd chew him up and spit him out. They'd probably expect him to ditch his super awesome look modeled after the doll his dad gave him and make him dress up all classy and sheeit.. It didn't quite click that maybe the Black Bulls wouldn't care so much about appearances when their captain is a crusty chain-smoking guy in a wife-beater. He angsts over the expectation they'd look down on him for not being nobility, and they might not respect his abilities or take him seriously. Finally, he decides it's best to confront them on neutral ground to feel them out, but where to do it?

His chance comes when he finds out Xerx Lugner is invited to the Royal Knights Selection Exam. Since nobody knows who that even is, the usually level-headed careful Zora goes on a suicide mission to impersonate Xerx under the threat of capital punishment. Fuck it, his life is in shambles at this point with the fact he was given the opportunity to be a magic knight but is too messed up emotionally to take Yami up on it. It's better to go out with a bang while putting a bunch of them in their place right in the Wizard King's face.

Lucky for him, the Wizard King is a fun-loving guy who appreciates a good prank. He knows who Zora is but doesn't let on. Still, he was startled by Zora rocking up out of nowhere impersonating a magic knight whose whereabouts are unknown. When Zora puts an arm around him, he was repulsed by his injuries, his look that doesn't appear fully human, and the pungent nose-hair burning stench emanating off him because a stink bug went off in his pocket. Still, since they are vying for selection to fight a powerful unknown enemy, Julius thinks it would be good for the others to be exposed to an enigmatic person like Zora who might teach them out-of-the-box thinking.

Everyone else wonders why 'Xerx' calls himself the "Saint of Pure Ice" but they quickly come to the conclusion it's because he's a stone-cold douche. Even though Julius likes a good prank, he has regrets because he's more of the light-hearted prankster with a child-like spirit, whereas Zora is bitter and mean-spirited roasting the others in a way that cuts to their souls.

They also wonder why he has his tiddies out and wears low riding pants that shows most of his happy trail. After all, the doll his dad gave him (that he shows everybody like a weirdo) is fully clothed. "Because I have to draw runes on my own body sometimes," Zora eventually reveals, "It's easier to draw runes on my own body when there is a lot of exposed skin!"

[leerailway]

HELLO!!!!!

TUMBLR!!!! Let me introduce myself: I am Lee and I like to crochet and I'm starting a blog about it finally. Please interact if you crochet!! I'd love to find a community of people who also crochet and have mutuals.

A bit 'bout me :)

I'm 20 years too old to be in the womb

I use he/they pronouns cause I'm cool and hip and lack nipples 🏳️‍⚧️

Tried to be not like the other girls too hard and became a stereotypical autistic man with too much knowledge about trains and Minecraft.

Up until recently, I worked in a craft shop. I had to quit as they wouldn't pay me in yarn only this pound sterling crap.

My main interests at the moment are: Economics, Stardew Valley, Waterparks, Jet lag: the game, Torchwood, Doctor Who, Malevolent, jrwi, qsmp so if your also into any of them bonus points for you, you lucky thing.

I don't have many photos of my creations currently but here's a photo of a jumper I made last week, as well as a recent photo of me so that you know that I'm a cool guy 😎

urs for never and never lee

p.s. I'm rather new to tumblr so if someone could teach me how to crop images that would be much appreciated!! /j