#once again sorry for taking so long to answer this

[dark-night-hero]

Imagine being Caleb's non-mc significant other.

Imagine having a good night, everything was perfect, a good night out with your boyfriend. With the two of you spending the weekend after he came back from his mission. You have been waiting for a month now. He was quite the busy person, but it was alright. You knew he loves you very much.

"I have to go." Or so you thought, looking away from the big cinematic screen into your lover. "Why? Did they call you up for a mission?" You spoke quietly, trying not to disturb other people. "It's MC." Oh. "Caleb..." "I know, I'm sorry honey. But something came up and pips need me."

Imagine being numb for a moment, he was staring at you, looking for some sort of confirmation. But you were conflicted. You knew who MC was in his life, that was his best friend, that was his childhood friend, like a little sister to him. Of course you understand were he was coming from, two of them were basically each other anchor for a very long time. At the same time, "Caleb, this is the only time we have together. Can't that wait after the movie?" You asked gently.

Imagine you tried to understand. Really, you tried to understand over and over again. "Please Caleb, just after the movie. Can't we have this moment?" Just us? You want to add but kept your mouth shut. This always happened, and everytime you understand. But just this once, just this once, you are asking for his time to be sole yours, even just for an hour.

Imagine the way you watch him look away, look down into his phone then into his watch. It felt like he was running out of time. "Caleb..." You took a hold of his hand. He held it back, "..please." "what was that?" "Please don't make me chose between you and her." You swore you felt hour heart stop.

Imagine before you could even think, your mouth opens. "Why, because you'll choose her?" It wasn't even a question. Because deep down, you already knew the answer. Before he could even answer, you let go of his hand and and look back from the screen. "It's alright. You should go."

"I'm sorry." You heard him whisper but you did not look at him nor spare a glance. "I'll be right back as soon as I can." Taking a hold of your hand for a moment and giving it a squeeze, he stood up and kiss the crown of your head that you pretended not to care. "I'll be right back, okay?"

Imagine the rest of the movie was a blur, whether it was the heavy feeling on your chest, or the silent tears that was rolling in your cheeks. None the less you felt done, so done. He did not even answer, but his actions tells everything that is needed to be said.

Imagine arriving at your door in the middle of the night, going through your bag as you look for your keys and just as you find them, your phone rang, the name of the caller flashing as your lover. Heh, lover? Can you even call him that? You don't know anymore.

Imagine just staring at the call, then once again, the screen went black. You just look away and press in the key into your door. And you twist and open it, you heard your phone rang once again. But as you push the door open, all you were greeted by a rush of burning flame and a loud boom. Just like that, everything went black.

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2025°

: part ²? What's that? It is what it is. Hahahehe.

[kingofthecotas]

fragile line (ao3) | ~1.8k

a/b/o fic because i got summer camp fomo ✨ no sex just angst and accidental alpha voice lol

“Pecco?” 

The quiet rap on his rider’s room door makes him jump, and perhaps it’s for that reason that his answer dies in his throat, the don’t come in, I’m changing caught behind his tongue.  

“Pecco, Davide said the meeting would be fifteen minutes later, he has something—ah, sorry.” Marc stops, mouth curled in a bashful grin at the sight of Pecco’s bare chest. “The door was not fully closed—um, the meeting will be later—” And his gaze lands on Pecco’s neck, the uncovered gland. His well-healed bite. “Oh.”

Stupid, is the first thing Pecco thinks, stupid for not closing his door. He’d thought it would be quick enough to change his T-shirt. He’d been careless.

The next thing—panic. Self-directed dismay. A hot flash of protective fury, for Bez, his Bez. The growl rumbles in his throat before he can swallow it; Marc freezes. 

No one outside the pack knows. It was better that way, Vale had told them, no questions, no accusations. Just a lot of team polos and high-necked T-shirts. And Pecco—Pecco has undone all of that in a single thoughtless instant. His eyes burn, something blazing taking hold in his chest. 

“You can’t—” The words sear, acid. “Do you understand? Do not say anything to anyone.” 

As quickly as it had come, the heat fades, leaves him blinking, spacey. Just inside his door, Marc starts, eyes glazed; his mouth opens soundlessly. 

He frowns, shaking his head as if dazed, and his lips move again. Nothing. His scent, so familiar to Pecco now, even through blockers and the smell of bike and rubber, shifts, falls through confusion to something much worse. 

“Marc…” 

Marc’s eyes blow wide, the same horrible realisation that hits Pecco, fist to the throat. He’s never—not once in his life—but he did, and now Marc is staring at him, unable to speak, because Pecco slipped up again, fucking again, twice in as many minutes. 

He lost control in the one way he swore he never would. He used his alpha voice. 

“Shit,” Pecco breathes, “shit, I didn’t—Marc, I didn’t mean—you can talk—”

Marc keeps trying, keeps opening his mouth; Pecco catches the voiceless shape of his own name and nausea claws at his stomach. 

“Close—close the door,” he rasps, then adds, “Please. Please.” 

Marc does, his terror fading to something awful and accusatory. With the door shut, his bristling scent fills the room, like a cat puffing up its fur to hide how scared it truly is. 

“I didn’t mean—” Pecco says again, but it doesn’t matter, because he did it, freaked out for a single second and ordered his omega teammate into silence. Bez would—if Bez ever found out— “Fuck, we can—I’ll fix this. I will.”

A glare follows, the how? obvious even without words. And, to be honest, it’s a great question. Pecco has no fucking idea. They can’t do it here, though.

“I think,” he starts, careful to leave it open now, careful to give Marc the choice, “I think we should go back to my motorhome. More private.” And if Álex catches even a whiff of the distress Marc is trying to smother now, he’ll have no issue clawing Pecco to bloody shreds. 

Pecco has never—it’s never mattered to him, Marc being an omega: not a distraction, like some media outlets liked to sneer, not when he’s only ever had eyes for Bez; not an aggravation, because Pecco has truly never given a single shit whether he’s racing alphas, betas or omegas, just as long as he can beat them. The thought of it being Bez, of some thoughtless alpha losing control and stripping him of his volition, pulls the sickly feeling back up through his gut like knotted rope. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, aching in his earnestness. Marc only tilts his head towards the fresh shirt Pecco had been intending to pull on. Five more seconds, and none of this would have happened. 

He tugs the polo over his head. Catching his own smell, ozone-hot alpha twined through with engine oil, he grimaces.

——

It isn’t any better in his motorhome, apart from the fact that team personnel are much less likely to catch Marc’s agitated scent. It fills Pecco’s nostrils, however, permeates every inch of the living space: still scared, yes, but also pretty fucking pissed off. 

“Marc,” Pecco says, and says a quick prayer in his head, possibly his last. “I don’t know how to undo it.”

The glower he gets for that is truly frightening.

“I’ve never—” He closes his eyes. Hopes his funeral is a nice affair. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done that. I’m sorry. I panicked.” Silence. He peels open one eye, twisting his lips together. “It’s Bez, by the way.” He feels—he owes Marc that, at least.

The look Marc levels at him is as close to yeah, no shit as he’s ever seen.

“We’re that obvious?”

A sharp nod.

“Fuck. Sorry. Again.” He pauses. “I need Vale, Marc.”

Frantic, Marc shakes his head, mouthing no. 

“He’s—he’ll know what to do.” If nothing else, he’s pack alpha. Pecco wants him here. He’d come to the paddock this weekend, free of GT and WEC and everything else that demands his time these days. 

Another vehement no that rolls Pecco’s stomach.

“Please. I fucking—we need to fix this.”

Marc bares his teeth in a would-be snarl. 

Pecco isn’t stupid. More than that, he wasn’t fucking blind eleven years ago when Marc came to Tavullia, when Vale stared at him like the sun was coming out whenever he smiled. And then—

And then.

If anything, Pecco thinks, not for the first time, it’s lucky they weren’t mated when everything collapsed with the force of a dying star. Black holes, now, the history of them, inescapable gravity wells.

“Do you know anyone who can help?”

A pause. A quick headshake. 

“Then—please.”

Marc doesn’t exactly agree, but his expression slips into something resigned. Pecco pulls out his phone.

——

It’s easy to pick out Vale’s scent, familiar to Pecco even in the sensory cacophony of the paddock; for Marc too, apparently, because he stiffens. Vale moves closer, closer—and stops for a beat: Marc’s distress must be escaping the motorhome. Footsteps climb the metal steps, too fast, and the door is thrown open.

Vale’s nostrils flare the instant he steps inside, eyes narrowed, a snarl in the curl of his lips: whether it’s for him or Marc, Pecco can’t tell. “Pecco, what—?”

Plaster ripped off. “Marc can’t talk, and it’s my fault.”

Valentino growls.

In all his years knowing him, Pecco has never seen Vale growl at anyone in his pack—nothing more than a good-natured grumble when Bez or Cele got a little too boisterous. Pecco flinches, ducking his head in submission, as the door slams closed and the white-hot anger of his pack alpha singes the inside of his nose. “What happened?”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know that, Pecco. I asked what happened.”

“Sorry,” Pecco whispers, primal instinct demanding he does so.

Protective. Vale is furious and protective. He’s standing between Pecco and Marc. Even as Pecco registers that, Vale rumbles an apology. 

“I—he saw my mating bite. I said he couldn’t say anything, and now—”

“Pecco.” You have to be careful, Vale whispers in his memory. It is not something you should ever use.

“I know. I know, but please. Can you fix it?”

“I can’t undo this, Pecco. You have to.”

“I’ve tried!” Pecco cries, like a whine, like he’s still a pup who needs Valentino’s guiding hand. “I don’t know, Vale. I’ve never—we have a meeting in an hour, we have to be on TV in the morning—his brother is going to kill me.”

But Vale shakes his head, eyes blank. “I don’t know—I never used it. Not ever.” Behind him, Marc shakes his head in agreement—and Jesus, not even when they were worse than bad. Pecco feels like shit, because even in the midst of a violent implosion, Valentino was able to control his instincts better than him. 

He whines properly this time, pitiful. 

“Okay. Okay.” Calm seeps into the air, only a hint of force behind it. “You were worried about Bez, yes? About somebody finding out?”

“Yes,” Pecco admits. 

“Do you think Marc would tell anyone? Do anything to hurt you or Bez?”

Pecco blurts, “No, of course not,” like a reflex, and it’s like unclenching his jaw after grinding his teeth through a long meeting, sudden relief from a tension he hadn’t even realised he’d been holding. “Marc, you can—fuck, of course you can talk. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Marc gasps, an ugly gulping sound, then, “Jesus.” 

Valentino closes his eyes: his scent is clamped down, held close; has been since he closed the door behind him and took a stance in front of Marc like he still had any right to do so. Like his alpha.

“Sorry,” Pecco says again, and it feels like he’s saying it to both of them. 

Marc just stares, blank, gaze flitting between him and Vale’s sudden-hunched shoulders. 

“Please don’t tell Álex,” and that’s what finally gets him a smile, weak but real. There’s a wariness to the way Marc is holding himself now—and Pecco did that. He did that. “I can tell Davide you don’t feel well, it’s just a marketing meeting—”

“No.”

“Okay.”

Silence. Valentino still hasn’t moved. Marc glances at him again.

Pecco wants them out of his motorhome. He wants to sleep for twelve hours. And he wants his mate. 

Even if that means telling Bez the truth, even if that means being on the receiving end of the same distrust that’s now sitting behind Marc’s eyes.

“This will—it won’t happen again.”

“I know,” Marc murmurs, forgiveness coming easy as a breath for him. Pecco sometimes wishes it wouldn't. “I will knock next time.” Another pressed smile. 

It’s never mattered to Pecco that he’s an omega, and he’d always thought it never mattered to Marc either, but now—underbelly exposed, weakness prised open, he hates it, is squirming beneath it. Pecco swallows.

Marc loathes being reminded of the limitations of his own body more than anything else. And Vale, despite whatever happened between them, he never dug his fingers into this particular wound. Animal instinct halted before the bite became a mortal one. 

Still a fragile, desperate hope in both of them.

Pecco inhales; their smell, their smell, is woven through the air, the last hints of distressed omega all but chased away. Valentino still hasn’t looked at Marc, not once.

Well, that’s not Pecco’s fucking problem. “I’ll see you in—an hour, I guess,” he says to Marc, who nods and takes it as the polite dismissal it was intended to be. “Sorry. Again.”

“You didn’t mean to.” When Marc moves, heads for the door, Valentino twitches, clearly holding himself in place—except Marc pauses, tilting his head. “Are you coming?”

The door closes behind both of them.

[morallygreycactus]

Burnt pancakes

Note: This is my first attempt at writing a story x reader. It‘s also the first story I ever consider posting. Also, please be aware that I researched literally nothing for this fic. The idea just got stuck in my head and I needed to get it out. Plus, English isn‘t my first language. So, sorry for any inaccuracies or mistakes, feel free to give suggestions.

Summary: having unexpected breakfast after a one night stand and slowly things start to turn into more

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!baker!reader

Warnings: self-doubt, anxiety, hints at past sexual activities/implied sexual content (but no explicit descriptions)

Word count: ~2.8k

Part 2 - It‘s you

You‘re standing behind the counter in your bakery, glancing through the big front window while kneading the dough for a big batch of chocolate chip cookies. You are waiting for Lando, a bit anxiously if you‘re being honest. It's the first time he‘s visiting you, in your home. And your bakery, nestled below your apartment in the cozy two-story-house you bought almost a year ago.

The bakery is currently closed, a hand-painted sign hanging on the door telling that to possible customers, as well as your usual opening times. But still, the door isn't locked, so Lando could come in once he arrived. And found the shop, you think with a small grin. You still didn‘t tell him about the bakery yet, so he might be confused at first.

While preparing the dough, you're keeping your eyes on the street outside. It's a quiet part of the city, not exactly central, but that didn’t mean your business lacked customers. It took a while after you opened, but once people found out about it, they kept coming back. And together with the commissions you took in, your business was doing well and you quickly made yourself a name.

You mix the last portion of chocolate chunks into the dough before you start to form the cookies. When you have no dough left but three large baking trays full of unbaked cookies, you slide them into the oven and if on cue, you see him.

Lando, walking past the window, looking slightly puzzled. He looks up, probably reading the big sign above the window, then the „closed“ sign on the door. You grin to yourself, amused by his confusion.

He walks past once and then back again, brow furrowed, then looks at his phone, maybe checking the address you sent him. But somehow, he doesn't spot you waving inside. And the oven still needs setting, as well as the little clock you use to make sure nothing will be baked for too long. When you finally wipe your hands on your flowery apron, wiping off the remaining flour, your phone starts buzzing with an incoming call.

“Hey Lando”, you answer it, trying to sound serious, “Everything alright?”

“Hi, Y/N, umm… are you sure you gave me the right address?”, he asks immediately, sounding uncertain, “There is just a little bakery and even that is closed.”

“I know. But the door's not locked, so… just come in.”

“You're in there? Why? Did you see me?”, you hear him on the phone and at the same time, he comes back to the door and tries to open it, not fully convinced. „I walked past twice and you didn‘t say anything?“

You hang up and walk to the door, meeting him there. “I even waved, but you didn't see me”, you say, „I kinda wanted to surprise you. I didn‘t tell you before, but this is my bakery. And my apartment is just upstairs.“ You smile happily, proud that this is your life, your dream that came true.

He looks around and takes it all in, his eyes scanning the cozy space. „This is yours? Really?“

You can feel your proud smile faltering, insecurity taking over again, but you still nod.

„Wow“, he breathes, „That‘s…fitting. I love it!“

You face him fully and when he realizes your smile is gone, his expression softens. „I mean it. It‘s amazing, I can basically feel all the love you put into it.“

He reaches for the door and turns the lock. „I want the full tour. And every little story this place has to tell.“

Your chest tightens, your heartbeat picks up and you are sure that there must be a butterfly in your stomach. Or two.

“And it all makes sense now,” he adds, nodding toward the oven. “This explains why your pancakes were so unfairly good. Do I get to try one of these cookies too?”

You laugh, then move to check the oven. „They‘re not ready yet, and I would recommend letting them cool down a bit, so you won‘t burn your mouth again.

He follows you leaning over your shoulder to peek through the glass too, just to be sure you‘re telling the truth.

„Afraid I won‘t be able to use it later?“, he smirks and you straighten immediately, staring at him in disbelief, though unable to keep the blush from your face.

„Lando! You did not just say that!“

His grin grows even wider, though he raises his hands in mock surrender. “What? I meant my mouth. That part of my body I need for eating and tasting delicious stuff like cookies. You were the one who made it dirty.”

You shake your head, stifling a laugh. “Never at loss for an excuse, it seems.”

“But you have to admit that you like it,” he teases, still watching you like you’re the most interesting thing in the room.

You roll your eyes and step away, pretending to focus on the oven again, but a soft smile tugs on your lips now and your stomach does a very weird fluttery thing you‘re not sure you like.

“Anyway,” you say, checking the timer, “they need like… three more minutes.”

He leans against the counter, eyes wandering around the bakery like he’s trying to soak it all in. “It’s really beautiful, Y/N,” he says, softer now. “I didn’t know you… did all this.”

Your hands fidget with the seam of your apron. “I didn’t tell you on purpose. I wasn’t hiding it, I just… wanted you to see it first. Without expectations. It means so much to me, I was afraid… I didn‘t want you to think less of me, I guess.”

He tilts his head. “Expectations? Think less of you?”

You shrug, trying not to sound too small. A purple thread comes loose from the seam and you twirl it around your finger, avoiding to look at him.

“You’re used to grand things. Fast cars, private flights, race tracks all over the world. You‘re rich, you could have anything. This is… just mine. It’s quiet. A little messy sometimes. But it’s the one place where I can be myself.”

Lando watches you for a moment, a mixture of warm emotions swirling in his eyes, his expression soft. “It’s not just anything. It’s amazing. You built this. You didn’t just dream it - you made it real. Honestly, that might be cooler than anything I’ve done. You put your whole heart into it to build something.”

You laugh nervously. “If you say so.”

He grabs your hands to keep them from fidgeting and gently presses them while whispering conspiratorially, pretending to share a big secret with you. “I can’t even make toast without burning it. So yes, your bakery definitely wins.”

The oven timer dings, and you jump, not sure if it’s from the sound or the way he’s looking at you.

“Cookies are ready,” you announce, pulling your hands free from his to grab an oven mitt and carefully pull the trays out, the smell of warm chocolate and sugar filling the space instantly.

Lando inhales dramatically. “Okay, I think I just fell in love.”

You snort, ignoring the way your heart rate skyrockets. “With the cookies?”

“…Yes,” he says, but the way he smiles at you makes your stomach flutter.

You set the trays down and turn off the oven. “Please let them cool down, or you’ll regret it.”

He eyes the cookies like he’s weighing his options. “You’re asking a lot.”

“I‘m sure you‘ll survive a few minutes until they aren‘t burning hot anymore.”

“I‘m not sure I will,” he says, reaching like he might test his luck, but you swat his hand away with the mitt, laughing.

“They’ll be even better when you can actually taste them instead of just burning yourself. And then,” you glance toward the door that leads upstairs, “we can head up. If… you want.”

He meets your gaze again. “I want. That‘s why I‘m here in the first place. The cookies are actually just a nice extra.”

The way he says it, so simple and without any doubt, helps to relieve the tension you felt. It‘s true, he‘s here. In your place. He came here voluntarily. To you.

“Sorry for confusing you with the address, only because I wasn‘t brave enough to tell you about the bakery right away.”

“I would have knocked on every door around here to find you,” he replies, grinning sheepishly, „Didn‘t want to waste the opportunity of seeing you again.“

You blink, not knowing what to say.

„Last time we saw each other… well. You left before I could say anything.”

You look down. “I didn’t know what to say.”

“Well,” he says softly, “I’m just glad it wasn‘t ‘goodbye.’”

You look up, startled by his words as well as his tone. Something changes with what he just said. And for the first time since this morning, you let yourself believe that maybe - just maybe - this might be the beginning of something.

You check on the cookies again, carefully lifting one with a spatula.

“They should be safe now,” you say. “You can try one, before we head upstairs.”

Before you can even finish your sentence, he’s reaching for one and taking a bite. His eyes widen immediately.

“Oh my god.”

You laugh. “Good?”

He nods slowly. “That is dangerously good. Like… wow. I think the pancakes were just the gateway drug.”

You snort. “They're just cookies.”

“They're addicting”, he already reaches for another one, while finishing the first.

Rolling your eyes, you unlock the back door that leads to the stairs. “Come on. I’ll show you the rest.”

And he follows without question, still chewing, still smiling, and for once, you are not afraid that he might think you‘re not enough.

You open the door, heart thudding, and let him step inside first.

Your place smells like cinnamon and basil, like old paper and wet potting soil. There are books everywhere - stacked on your coffee table, sitting on window sills beneath pots filled with plants and competing with them for space on the shelves, around your cozy yellow armchair in the corner like you just put them down after reading and pick up a different one each time. It’s quiet, lived-in and full of things you love.

Lando walks in slowly, carefully, eyes tracing every little detail. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, almost like there is something fragile he doesn‘t want to destroy.

“This is you,” he whispers finally, still looking around. “I mean… this really feels like you. Even more than the bakery.”

You stay back, watching him and biting your lip as your anxiety comes back, telling you that his apartment is bigger and filled with all kinds of modern stuff and a lot more tidy. “It‘s a bit chaotic, I got distracted while cleaning and with the bakery… but I still love it here.”

He turns to you, smiling. “I get it. It’s… kind of magical, actually. Like if a library and a greenhouse had a baby.”

You can‘t help but laugh at that statement. „I take that as a compliment. I love both libraries and greenhouses.“

He looks at you for a moment like he‘s trying to figure out some hidden meaning behind your words before a happy smile takes over his lips again.

He sits down on the edge of your couch. “You stayed that morning,” he says, almost absently. “I wasn’t sure you would.”

“I almost didn’t.”

He nods. “I know.”

You take a seat on the other side of the couch, putting a book aside to not sit on it.

“I panicked a bit,” you admit. “It felt like I was intruding. But it also didn‘t. Making breakfast was easy, such a simple thing, so…natural. It scared me.”

He nods understandingly. “If it helps, I was scared too. I just… didn’t want that to be the end.”

You seek his gaze now. He’s different, not the joking, confident version you see in the media. Quiet. Softer.

“I’m glad you came,” you say.

“I’m glad you let me.”

After a moment of silence, you make yourself comfortable, curling into the corner of the couch, tucking your legs under you and leaning against the armrest to face Lando sitting at the other end. He‘s not too close, but close enough, and watching you like he’s waiting for the right moment to say something.

Outside, the sun’s setting casting your apartment in a golden glow with plants catching the light and books casting soft shadows.

You sigh, breaking the silence first. “I’ve been trying not to overthink this. Us. Whatever this is. But I’m really bad at that. Not doing it, I mean.”

He smiles gently. “Me too.”

You glance at him, caught off guard. “Really? You don’t seem like it.”

“I’m good at hiding it,” he says. “Especially when people are watching. But when they’re not…”

He shrugs. “I’ve been overthinking since I woke up to you leaving. And even more after the pancakes. And now the cookies“, he closes with a lopsided grin.

You snort, hiding your emotions behind it. “So it’s the baked goods keeping you around?”

He meets your eyes, steady and soft. “It’s you.”

You swallow hard. “I don’t know how to do this. With someone like you.”

He furrows his brow. “Someone like me?”

“You’re… bigger,” you say, fumbling for words. “Your life is louder. It moves fast. And I’m just… I run a bakery. I read too many books. I talk to my plants. I’m not glamorous. I’m not press-ready.”

“I’m not looking for press-ready,” he replies. “I’m looking for real.”

You just stare at him, blinking and trying to make sense of the words he just said.

He leans back a little but keeps his gaze on you. “I don’t need an answer right now,” he adds. “I don’t want to push you. I just want you to know I’m there for as long as you want me to.”

You pull your knees up and hug your legs. “I’m scared that this is just a break for you. A quiet moment before the next race, the next city. Only to be left behind once you find someone better.”

He’s quiet for a beat, thinking about what you said.

“I don’t know what the future looks like,” he says earnestly. “I can’t promise perfect timing or easy answers. But I know that right now, when I think about the next few weeks, months, even years… you’re in those thoughts.”

You hug your legs harder, basically hiding behind them now.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he says again. “If this is something, I want it to be honest. No pressure. No countdown.”

“I think I want that too,” you say quietly. “But I might need to take the long way to get there.”

He smiles like that’s the best answer he could’ve hoped for.

“No rushing,” he repeats.

You shift, slowly uncurling, opening yourself.

The moment stretches between you, warm and fragile. You keep your distance, just sitting there, breathing the same quiet air, letting the vulnerability settle over you like a blanket.

Lando’s the one who eventually speaks, his voice low. “I should probably go before I talk myself into staying.”

You give a small, almost shy smile. “And what happens if you stay?”

His eyes flicker to your mouth, then back to your eyes. “I don’t know. And since we just talked about no rushing…”

You nod, understanding. Glad. Not that you want him to leave, but it shows how much he respects your boundaries and the fragile spark growing between you.

He stands slowly and you walk him down the stairs and to the door.

At the threshold, he turns to you.

“I’m leaving town in a couple days,” he says, almost reluctantly. “But I’ll be back in two weeks. And I’d like to see you again. If you want that.”

You nod, heart beating fast in your chest. “I do.”

He reaches for your hand - not to pull you in, just to hold it for a second, his thumb brushing the back of it like he’s memorizing the feel of you.

His eyes flicker to your lips again and then he leans in.

The kiss is soft. Barely there. No heat, no rush. Just a quiet, steady thing. Like a confirmation of everything before.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead gently against yours. “Thank you,” he murmurs, before pulling back.

You smile, then open the door for him, and he steps out, pausing one last time at the top of the stairs. He grins.

“Don’t forget to save me a chocolate chip.”

You laugh. “Only if you don’t forget to come back.”

He gives a little nod. “Deal.”

And then he’s gone, his footsteps fading down the street, and you go back into your apartment. It‘s quiet, but doesn‘t feel empty.

You lean against the door for a long moment, eyes closed, heart full and anxious but a little bit lighter.

You don’t know what this is yet.

But you want to find out.

[bravetimetravellingaussie]

College au

Chapter 1

(I swear I'll come up with an actual title soon)

summary: what if buddie went to college together? cue a bunch of fluff and angst

warnings: I don't think there's anything that needs a warning in this one

Two energy drinks and an hour into a lecture on molecular biology and Eddie couldn't focus. He could hear the words, but they went in one ear and out the other.

He glanced across at the sleeping figure obscured in a hoodie a couple rows in front of him. He was jealous. He'd give anything to be able to just sleep. Preferably for at least a year.

But then the jealousy morphed into annoyance and anger. Because he recognised the figure. He'd recognise him anywhere.

Frat boy Buck, proud owner of a football scholarship and a careless attitude. Eddie couldn't help a little smirk at the thought of the hangover that Buck must be nursing. He imagined him having the worst possible migraine. And it made him feel a little better. Somewhere from behind somebody was throwing little balls of rolled up paper at Buck. That made him feel even better.

Eddie took his time packing up his notes after the lecture. None of it had gotten into his brain but he had made decent notes. Until they devolved into doodles towards the end of the lecture, that is. He kept his eyes on Buck, wondering how long it would take him to wake up.

He got his answer when everyone had left the lecture hall and Buck was still there. Eddie hesitated, sighed, walked over to Buck and clapped his hands right next to his ear.

Buck startled awake. That's when Eddie noticed his bruised eye.

Worst possible migraine alright.

Buck looked around, disorientated.

"Uh, thanks? For waking me." Buck blinked a couple times. "Sorry, I don't know your name."

"Eddie."

"I'm Buck."

"Yeah, I know. Nasty bruise you got there, Buck. You alright?" Eddie wasn't a complete monster, it was a concerningly dark bruise.

"Oh," Buck glanced down at the sleeve of his hoodie and Eddie noticed the pale, almost skin-coloured smudge there. "Does it look that bad?"

"Yeah," Eddie replied with a nod. "What happened?"

"I- I had a bit too much fun with a girl who forgot to tell me she had a boyfriend," Buck admitted sheepishly.

"Ah, the boyfriend found you, huh?"

"Yup." Buck grimaced. "Migraine."

"I'll bet."

"Well, thanks again," Buck said, getting up to go. But then he lost his balance and grabbed Eddies shoulders to steady himself. Once he'd regained his balance he quickly pulled his hands away and sat down again.

"You sure the guy who socked you didn't give you a concussion?" Eddie asked, crouching down next to Buck. "Can you follow my finger?"

"I'm not concussed." Buck pushed Eddie's hand away from his face. "I just stood up too quick. Trust me, I'd be able to tell if I was concussed." Buck stood up again, slower this time. "You- you know, because of, uh, football, yeah, you know a lot of concussions in football."

"Okay?" Eddie wasn't convinced but what could he do? "At least let me walk you to wherever you're going."

"Oh," the sound was soft and surprised coming from Buck. "I'll be fine, you don't have to do that."

"Suit yourself, I'll just follow you like a stalker," Eddie said. The guy couldn't even stand up without losing his balance. Even if it was frat boy Buck, the last thing Eddie needed was somebodies death on his conscience.

"Okay, it's not far. You can walk with me like a not-stalker." Buck said with a smile that Eddie managed to catch just before Buck pulled his hood over his head.

"So, Eddie, you from Los Angeles?" Buck asked once they'd left the lecture hall.

"Nope, El Paso, Texas."

"Cool. I'm from Hershey, Pennsylvania. You got any family here?"

"Look, I appreciate the attempt at small talk but I'm fine walking in silence."

"Oh, okay, sorry."

Eddie felt guilt akin to kicking a puppy when he saw the dejected look on Buck's face.

"I'm just not a very open book kind of guy, sorry."

"No, that's alright. Sorry if it felt like I was prying."

They walked the rest of the way in awkward silence.

"Well, this is me," Buck said, stopping in front of a big house. "Thank you for walking with me."

"No problem."

Eddie watched Buck disappear inside and shook his head as he turned away.

________

Something shifted after that, and Eddie didn't quite know how he felt about it.

During lectures, Buck sat next time him, in a sort of casual way that refused acknowledgment. They didn't exchange a single word, but somehow Buck seemed to just happen to be nearby whenever they were in the same room together.

It didn't really bother Eddie. It was almost nice, having a familiar face where previously he had had no one, his busy life not leaving much room for making friends.

But then Buck showed up at the bar Eddie worked at part time, with a cohort of other guys in various states of intoxication.

"Eddie!" Buck called to him with a smile.

"Hi, what can I get you?"

Buck and his friends ordered drinks, sitting around two tables, loud and obnoxious. Buck didn't join them, instead sitting at the bar.

"I didn't know you were a bartender."

"Lots of things you don't know about me, Buck."

There was that dejected look again.

“Your eye looks better,” Eddie rushed out.

“Yeah. Yeah, well, it was nice bumping into you." Buck turned to join his friends.

Eddie couldn't fathom how he could possibly be lonely enough to do what he was about to do.

"How about another drink on me?"

"Shouldn't I be the one getting you a drink?" Buck asked, sitting back down at the bar.

"I'm working."

"How about once you finish then?"

"Sorry, once my shift is over, I've got to go home, sober."

"I'll drink for two then."

Eddie smirked.

"Good thing for you I don't drink much, or I'd have to follow you home again."

Buck let out a laugh in response.

And so, Buck sat there, quietly, watching Eddie work with a certain softness in his eyes that made Eddie avoid his gaze.

"Your friends are gone," Eddie pointed out when the bar had quietened a bit.

Buck let out a sigh that seemed too weary for someone his age. Although Eddie could relate to feeling older than he was, he couldn't help but wonder what had caused it for Buck.

"They're more like drinking buddies to be honest."

"Isn't that a bit cliché? Popular jock doesn't have real friends?" Eddie kicked himself when he saw the almost hurt look on Buck's face. "I'm sorry, that was mean."

"It's true though."

"Haven't you got anyone here? Family?"

"Not really." Buck scratched the back of his head. "My parents are back in Pennsylvania, and I, uh, I haven't talked to my sister in the past two years."

"You have a sister?"

"Yeah, she older, pretty much raised me."

"I have sisters too, all younger though, back in El Paso."

Buck looked surprised.

"You have sisters?"

"Yup. No brothers though."

"Yeah, me- me neither."

"So, we have something other than our education in common."

"I don't think it really counts." Buck laughed, a nervous thing.

"Sure it does," Eddie argued with a mock-serious tone. "Yours teach you how to do makeup?"

"Oh, no, I only learned after she left home. I'm a little accident prone, wanted to avoid a reputation as a delinquent."

"Getting punched count as an accident?"

Buck laughed again, sheepish this time, and Eddie couldn't help but smile.

"Well, it's the end of my shift. Unless you want to start paying for your drinks, you may want to consider going home."

"I'll have you know I'm very good at getting other people to pay for my drinks."

This time it was Eddie who chuckled. This guy sure was full of himself.

"How about I walk you home this time?”

"Oh, what the hell, sure, I live pretty close. Just let me go get my stuff, I'll meet you outside."

And they walked in silence again. It wasn't quite awkward this time though. Eddie tried to not let the way Buck kept bumping his shoulder with his from how close he was walking annoy him. Other than that, it was peaceful almost. The city was far from quiet, but there was that calm that came from the sun no longer crowding the sky.

He was almost reluctant to see Buck go once they'd reached his place. He looked at the new contact in his phone. Just in case either of us needs a study buddy, Buck had said. He also gone so far as to take the most terribly smudged and low-quality dim lit selfie for the contact picture.

________

Next time they had a lecture, Buck sat in the chair next to Eddie, smiling in greeting. Eddie acknowledged him with a nod, although it felt like he barely managed to catch his head before it plummeted all the way down into his notebook. They sat quietly, Buck seemingly absorbed in the lecture while Eddie wondered what the most comfortable position to take a nap in would be while sitting at a desk. His pondering was interrupted by Buck slipping a note in front of him.

U look like ur about to fall asleep, coffee later on me?

Buck did owe him for drinks the other day after all. And Eddie would never say no to free coffee.

Sure

Once the lecture finished, they agreed on a café nearby and then Buck was talking about the lecture. This then developed into a discussion about the teachers they had, Buck going on to rank them based off who’s lessons he found the most interesting.

“What do you think?” Buck asked, holding open the door to the café. The place looked cosy but Eddie beelined for the chairs that looked the least comfortable.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never really thought that much about it.”

“Oh, yeah, no fair enough.” Only then did Buck seem to realise where they were. “Wow, was I talking the whole way here? Sorry.”

“It’s alright. I don’t mind.”

Buck looked a little stunned.

“You can keep talking if you want,” Eddie added, putting his stuff down and heading to the counter. “I’ll probably try and get some studying done once the caffeine kicks in though.”

“Oh, okay.” Buck smiled as he paid for their coffee, a smile he quickly hid beneath his cup. Then his eyes went wide.

“Hot?”

Buck nodded.

“There really are people who need the warning, huh?” Eddie chuckled, sat down, taking the lid off his own cup.

“Hey, the text was covered by my hand,” Buck replied with mock offence.

“Right, sorry.”

They sat quietly after that. Absorbed in their own work, occasionally conferring on things they didn’t quite understand. Eddie, again, kicked himself for assuming Buck was just a dumb jock before he’d even talked to him. Buck was far smarter than he’d given him credit for. His big build and flirty personality hid a quiet intellect.

“This was good coffee, thank you.” Eddie said once he’d taken the last sips from his cup.

“Any time.”

“I might just take you up on that.”

“I’ll pay any price for a study partner as good as you, haven’t been able to focus so well in a while.”

“Same here,” Eddie replied. And he was being honest. “Though that might just be the coffee talking.” Eddie glanced at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to run. See you around, Buck.”

“See ya.”

Study together at the library tomorrow?

Sounds good cya, Eddie replied to the text the next day.

It became a bit of a routine after that. They’d meet at the library, doing work together, exchanging notes. Buck would bring caffeine or snacks or sometimes both. And it was a nice bit of calm for Eddie. Sure, Buck rarely went more than half an hour in silence, but Eddie really didn’t mind listening. Sometimes it was about the work they were doing, or something related to it, and sometimes it was about a show he was watching or a book he was reading.

Eddie had his phone on silent most of the time, but then at least once a day, when he woke up or before sleep took him, he’d read and reply to messages about whatever had recently taken Buck’s interest. Eddie recommended him some shows as well and then Buck would tell him what he thought. One such time, Eddie caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, reading Buck’s messages as he went to brush his teeth. And he was smiling. It was a slight thing, small and fragile. But it was there. It was nice to have a friend.

@keeperofdragons

[kissvr]

𖦹 How Not To Flirt !

shigaraki x reader

previous <> next <> index

warnings: fem!!! reader

chapter seven: queer = hero?

Just like he said, he was waiting for you when classes were over. You found him at the entrance, leaning against the wall and scratching his neck, a habit you'd come to recognise.

"Shimura," you called as you walked up to him, giving him the kindest smile you could manage.

He looked up at you and nodded in acknowledge.

"Hey," he said. "Did you need something?"

"Uh, no." Fuck, you were getting nervous. "I just wanted to ask if... if you'd walk home with me?"

He paused for a moment. Just a few seconds. But it was enough for you to question every single decision you had made in life up to this point.

You were bracing yourself for rejection, mentally preparing for being called a weirdo, a creep, a complete—

"Yeah."

"... Cool."

It wasn't long until you started walking. You fell into step beside him, unsure of what to do with yourself.

Why did walking suddenly feel so weird? Was it always this difficult? Did you even know how to walk?

"So..." you started. "How was class?"

"Boring," he answered. Predictable. "I hate maths."

"Tell me about it."

Silence settled between you again. It wasn't completely awful—just a bit suffocating. You fiddled with your fingers. Shimura scratched his neck.

You kept stealing glances at him, every few seconds, trying to figure out what to say.

"You walk home everyday?" you asked.

What a stupid question.

"Most days. I don't live far," he replied, avoiding your gaze. "You?"

"I live like three streets away from school."

He nodded. Silence returned, once again third wheeling between you two.

"I'm glad you asked," he said, and you looked at him, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"To walk home. I wanted to ask you but I thought you'd say no."

Huh.

You didn't expect this. You didn't expect this at all. This wasn't something Shimura would normally say.

You felt like you were about to pass out. Your cheeks felt hot, your hands started sweating, your heart beating at a pace that would make a doctor panic.

"Oh." Give a normal answer, think of a normal answer. "Yeah. I mean- no. I wouldn't have said no."

He glanced at you. "Good to know."

a/n: sorry for taking so long, i have the most important exams of my life in 4 days (im panicking)

anyways, ive got some extras for you :3

yn came home and screamed onto the pillow. it did nothing to muffle it. hitoshi heard.

tenko spent 30 minutes staring at the wall, wondering why he thought it was a good idea to tell her he wanted to ask her to walk home with him.

yn was terrified of aizawa and mic (SPECIALLY mic) interrogating her if they saw her with tenko so she walked him home instead, which resulted in him getting bombarded with questions by all might.

[yaninamothe]

sometimes i’m not only an artist hahaha

sometimes i think about some things in hannibal. for example, will graham with gray hair.

i’m sorry english isn’t my native language but i want to share my thoughts about it.

While they were separated by the glass of the prison cell, the light and glare on that glass continually distorted Will's appearance to Hannibal. Every time Graham had to come back here and pretend he was only consulting on the red dragon case, Lecter tried to memorize every detail of Will's "domesticated" appearance.

But today everything has changed. The glass between them is gone, and Hannibal can clearly see Will. The skin on his face is lightly tanned, a little weathered and dry in places. The scar on his forehead has faded considerably since their meeting in italy. They say that scars beautify men. Hannibal always thought that phrase was perfect for Will. His scars did beautify him, making his features rougher and more angular, like a stone that you want to turn into a piece of art.

As the orderlies carefully fasten the straps behind Hannibal's back, Lecter continues to study Will's appearance. He has clearly changed since their last meeting. His gaze is sterner and sharper, those gray eyes literally burning a hole through Lecter. His hair was shorter, the unruly curls styled, but the individual strands above his temples, sunburned and streaked with graying, were still treacherously out of place, and there was something particularly human about those strands. Hannibal knew it wasn't old age; Will bore the marks of a debilitating internal strain, the marks of which could not be counted. The gray in his hair was like thin carvings on marble, where you couldn't tell where the blow had come from. The natural asymmetry of his face, once muted by the softness of his gaze, seemed more emphasized now, the nose a little sharper and the lines of his lips more wary. even his shoulders, hidden beneath the layers of clothing, seemed tense, as if carrying a great weight. Hannibal felt his mind fill with this image: not the familiar profile, not the memory, but the way Will stood now, this very moment, without the glass barrier. So alive. So vulnerable in his resilience. A false sense of closeness, like the smell of rain before a thunderstorm.

They're both silent. Will watches the orderlies work, and Hannibal just looks at him. Absorbs and retains.

It's almost obsessive in Hannibal's mind to run his fingers through those graying strands, to see how they would curve under his touch, how they would flow as Hannibal ran them through his fingers. He definitely remembers what Will's hair smells like, knows what his skin feels like to the touch, but this Will is different. This Will is after. and it's at this moment, as the orderlies finish buckling the straps behind his back, squeezing his arms as if in a vise, and step back, that Will looks up, so pleading and warm, saying:

“I need you, Hannibal," Will takes a short pause that feels like an eternity. “Please…”

The words rustle softly, like the sound of the sea, but there is something sweet in them, like a fragrant French sauternes that leaves a long honeyed aftertaste, — a trap, a lure so skillfully woven for him. and Hannibal knows it. He feels Will's very essence drawing him to him in this moment, like an impossible promise of being understood and needed. Again, but only for a moment.

He doesn't answer, but a slight smile touches his lips, and rays of wrinkles appear in the corners of his eyes. And inside him, deep down, in that place that defies discipline, a slow, waiting flame ignites.

[mariasont]

SHY!MEDIA-LIAISON!READER

meet the reader! ── .✦ °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

find out what she's listening to ↳ [✧ click to listen ✧]

if you ever wanna see her try to be normal online: ↳ [⋆ click to stalk ⋆] you didn't get this from her.

if you've ever wondered how she always looks like a 2008 indie film extra: ↳ [✿ style breakdown (ish) ✿]

personality

she's the team's new media liaison, which means she's great at writing press releases, answering questions, and managing the public narrative. what she's not good at is everything else socially.

she's soft-spoke, chronically flustered, and deeply committed to making sure no one ever finds out how often she thinks about spencer reid hands. she overthinks everything, replays conversations, and says "um" way too much for someone with a functioning vocabulary. she's polite to a fault, avoids eye contact, and when she does manage to say something bold, she freaks out in the aftermath. it's not that she doesn't have thoughts, she has so many thoughts, she just isn't great at saying them out loud without dying a little.

every crush she's ever had has been a prolonged slow burn built entirely on glances and daydreams. she gets overwhelmed easily, especially by gentle attention, and tries to cope with it by pretending she's totally fine.

but once you actually get to know her ... oh. ohhh. she's all dry wit, sneaky comebacks, and intelligent observations. she has this uncanny ability to read people, to pick up on details other miss, and she can ruin your entire worldview with one delivered comment if she wanted to.

hobbies

collecting vinyl records

annotating books in pencil with neat handwriting and sad little notes like ugh and this made my heart hurt. occasionally circles a line just to come back to it later and cry

making spotify playlists with super specific titles like staring at a ceiling fan in july

watching old interviews and concert footage from artists from the 60s-80s

taking long, aimless walks with no destination

pressing flowers in thick old dictionaries that she rescued from library donation piles. has definitely done this on the job once (sorry, emily)

likes

the sound of a record cracking before the music starts

book dedications that say you know who you are (she absolutely does not know who they are, but still cries about it)

drunk cigarettes

when spencer wears his watch on the inside of his wrist

old store signage with peeled paint and missing letters

highlights in soft ink colors (especially dusty pink and slate blue)

rainy mornings and staying in bed an extra 10 minutes just because

hearing a song she loved in high school

people who ask "did you get home safe?"

old postcards and paper maps.

dislikes

being interrupted

when someone talks over her favorite part of a song

when someone compliments her and she forgets how to respond so she just says you too like an idiot

small talk that feels performative

voicemail

jeans that don't sit right

open office layouts

when someone brings up astrology and says oh you're definitely a [sign] and it's... not hers

when someone knocks on her door and she wasn't expecting anyone

when spencer reads aloud of her shoulder and she forgets how words work

relationships with the team

rossi

affectionately intimidating older man. confusing father figure vibes. he calls her kid and she panics every time like she's being graded. he respects her but teases her mercilessly, always asking if her press statements were "written in sonnets" or if she's "gonna cry over a press releases again."

and she wants to impress him so badly and is lowkey convinced he thinks she's some fragile little mouse. except he does notice when something's off and has a scary-accurate read on her despite never making a big deal out of it.

emily

hyper-competent mentor she's half in love with, half afraid of. emily terrifies her in the beginning, mostly because she's so effortlessly cool and sarcastic and seems like the kind of person who can smell fear. over time, though, emily becomes one of her softest supporters. they bond over books and their shared ability to dissociate at social events.

jj

jj is so good to her it's suspicious. it's too kind. jj is the only one she feels okay being openly anxious around, because jj has that calm, nuturing, steady energy that doesn't really demand anything in return. shy!reader definitely cried in front of her once and jj just held her hands and didn't ask questions.

garcia

chaotic good fairy godmother. constant overstimulation. garcia is overwhelming in the best way. she immediately adopts shy!reader like a puppy she found in the rain. constantly texting her things like "this is your color palette" and "what song would play if you and spencer kissed under starlight?" shy!reader is horrible at texting back, but garcia doesn't care. she sends memes and playlists anyway.

luke

reluctant siblings. emotionally blunt but weirdly gentle. their relationship starts awkwardly. like ... very awkwardly. shy!reader finds him too handsome and too quiet and he finds her kind of emotionally unreadable. he once said "you good?" and she said "what? no. yes. i'm fine. did i do something?" and he just blinked.

but over time they develop a weirdly function dynamic, he doesn't talk a lot, she doesn't need him to. he probably leaves snacks on her desk and calls her silent but deadly.

tara

academic respect with real emotional undertow. i think they bond over psychology and trauma research first. tara sees her, really sees her, understands how someone can be so emotionally intelligent and still struggle to speak up in a room. shy!reader looks up to her so much it almost hurts. their conversations are deep, infrequent, and always hit too hard.

matt

respectful distance + weird shared humor. matt is a little too normal. he has kids. he reads the room well. at first, they don't talk much. he doesn't push her, and she appreciates that more than she can say. eventually, they bond over something stupid (maybe some press conference or someone mispronouncing her name) and now they share this deeply specific deadpan humor that no one really gets. he's protective of her in that dad friend way. never patronizing thought.

[cityofmeliora]

Hello again!

Anon who asked this question: https://www.tumblr.com/cityofmeliora/784818568710799360/the-second-papa-was-a-party-animal-i-ask-this?source=share

Thank you so much for answering! I read this post here that seemed to do a quick summary of the lore: https://www.tumblr.com/cityofmeliora/784805227430887424?source=share

And I only read it once... and while I did get a little bit of it... the rest was so... it left me like 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 😵‍💫 by the end of it. Not op's fault of course.

Do you know why the people who really run the ministry want the papas to be musicians?? I'm guessing they believe music will make spreading the word of Satan easier? (Did certain Papas know they were being used???)

Speaking of the devil, I'm guessing he's a character in the universe?? Does the ministry want to take over the world with Satan?? And if so, have they ever thought that he might double-cross them??

Qwertyrytu sorry if these questions are too silly. 😅

Also, THERE ARE GHOST COMICS???

Were they popular / are they still being made?? There's so much lore /story in different medias (music videos [i think?], interviews, regular videos, lyrics, performances [maybe?] possibly that one 2024 movie, etc, etc etc. 🤯)

Since you likely consumed a lot of it, I'm guessing the fandom's fanart / fanfics don't 100% follow the lore?? It also feels like it be impossible to. Most people are maybe canon divergent?? Are people in the fandom picky about people who don't follow the lore?

hi again!!!! thank you so much for sending another ask, i really like answering these (though it takes me a while) :3c

i'll answer this in parts.

1: Do you know why the people who really run the ministry want the papas to be musicians?? I'm guessing they believe music will make spreading the word of Satan easier? (Did certain Papas know they were being used???)

this is a quote from Ghost's old Myspace page from 2010– the earliest piece of Ghost lore / worldbuilding that describes who they are and what their mission is:

Ghost is the name of a devil worshipping ministry that – in order to spread their unholy gospels and, furthermore, trick mankind into believing that the end is ultimately a good thing – have decided to use the ever so popular rock music medium as a way to achieve their ends. …. Standing motionless and anonymous beneath the painted faces, hoods and robes which their sect demand, the six nameless ghouls of Ghost deliver litanies of sexually pulsating heavy rock music and romantic lyrics, which glorify and glamorise the disgusting and sacrilegious, with the simple intention to communicate a message of pure evil via the most effective device they can find: Entertainment. Ghost official Myspace (2010)

basically, Ghost has always been the efforts of a satanic cult to spread satan's influence through rock music. their specific goals / beliefs / presentation have changed over time, though.

in Era 1 (2010), the cult's goal was to hasten humanity's demise, so they wanted to further corrupt humanity by spreading evil messages. in Era 2 (2013), they shifted away from the overtly evil presentation and focused more on entertainment and social commentary– wanting to free and enlighten people by criticizing and satirizing the hypocrisy of christianity. Era 2 didn't say much about the Ghost cult itself and its beliefs. Era 3 (2015) kept the main messaging of Era 2, but made the Ghost cult itself relevant again. their goal seems to have changed from 'convince people the apocalypse is good' to 'world domination'. this is when the character Sister Imperator was first introduced as the boss of the clergy, and she described their failure to achieve those goals in the Era 3 lore video series, The Summoning:

SISTER IMPERATOR: Brothers and Sisters, you know why you are here tonight. This Ministry is now seven years into The Ghost Project. Seven long years of work. Two Papas, two albums, one gold. These are indeed some respectable numbers, but let me give you some others. Churches opened: zero. Governments toppled: zero. World leaders converted to the cause: zero. You call yourselves salesmen? Masterminds? You have done shit! And don't blame the music. The music is the very manifestation of His Dark Majesty. The Summoning (part 1)

however, the new Sister Imperator comics (2025) show a different in-universe backstory of the band Ghost. the comics reveal that The Ghost Project was entirely Sister Imperator's idea. she created the band and designed the character of "Papa" to be played by Nihil, and there's no mention of a satanic church / ministry at that time. Sister Imperator created Ghost because she loves music and wanted their concerts to spread positive messages and be a safe space free of religious oppression (this explanation is much like TF's actual IRL motivation behind Ghost). we don't currently know how the idea of the satanic cult / church / ministry started in the timeline of the Sister Imperator comics.

as for the question of whether certain Papas knew they were being used... yes. most of them know. they all have different feelings about it, though.

Papa I / Primo didn't care. he honestly saw himself as a humble servant of satan and was happy to do the work. this is shown in early Primo interviews, and it's something i talked about a lot in my old post about my notes and thoughts on Primo's characterization.

Papa II / Secondo also didn't really care. he was a bit disappointed but fully accepting of the fact. he was 100% aware that he was there for a good time, not a long time.

PAPA EMERITUS II: I wasn't here in the beginning, and unfortunately, I won't be here until the end. It kind of blows that I am, in many ways, making the bed for someone coming after me. But hey, that's life. Ghost B.C. - The Olde One - Papaganda Ep. 1

Papa III / Terzo... i think he knew and was very upset by that fact, but tried to push back against it as much as he could. i believe this was ultimately his downfall. i talked about this in my very first lore analysis post about Terzo, and in my post about Terzo being deposed.

Cardi was not aware he was being used until he was nearing the end of his time as Papa. he had a brief moment of realization that was quickly shut down by Papa Nihil and Sister Imperator. i'm not sure how much he understands what's going on now that he's been promoted to Frater Imperator.

PAPA EMERITUS IV: One thing I do not understand… All these things… here, all of this stuff, and all of these things we’re doing, where we go, and when, and to where… Who decides these things? I mean, who’s calling the shots? RITE HERE RITE NOW (2024)

Papa Nihil doesn't give a fuck. he does whatever Sister Imperator asks him to do <3

2: Speaking of the devil, I'm guessing he's a character in the universe?? Does the ministry want to take over the world with Satan?? And if so, have they ever thought that he might double-cross them??

answered the stuff about the Ministry wanting to take over the world in the previous question. anyway, the actual devil appears to be a character in the Ghost universe– in Chapter 5, he calls Sister Imperator on the phone and tells her it's "the Old One" calling. "Old One" is one of the names for the devil that's used in Ghost's music. it's a bit difficult to interpret this scene because it was a funny joke scene. like, is the devil real? it seems so. maybe, since there are supernatural elements in the Ghost universe, like actual ghosts. he seems to be on the side of Ghost / the Clergy, but we don't know what's really going on with the devil.

3. Also, THERE ARE GHOST COMICS??? Were they popular / are they still being made??

Yes! the comics are a new thing. what we have so far is the Sister Imperator mini-series from Dark Horse Comics. it's 4 issues and it came out this year. #4 is going to be released in a few weeks from now. unfortunately, they don't seem to be super popular with fans on tumblr– probably because the new information in it is changing parts of the established lore and going against popular fanon ideas. also, a lot of people here dislike Sister Imperator as a character. but comic #1 sold out and got a reprint, so at least some people are reading it! i think the comics are 100% ABSOLUTELY WORTH READING. THE SISTER IMPERATOR COMIC IS REALLY GOOD. it's the only piece of Ghost lore media that takes itself 100% seriously and is actually trying to tell a story, which i appreciate SO MUCH. the pacing is insane because it's only 4 issues and it's hard to understand sometimes because of that (and also due to the fact that almost none of the characters have names), but i PROMISE it is worth reading. i LOVE these comics. i hope we get more comics in the future.

4. Since you likely consumed a lot of it, I'm guessing the fandom's fanart / fanfics don't 100% follow the lore?? It also feels like it be impossible to. Most people are maybe canon divergent?? Are people in the fandom picky about people who don't follow the lore?

fan art and fanfics in the Ghost fandom are everyone's own interpretations / understanding of the lore, which includes intentional canon divergence, alternate universes, popular unofficial fanon, and common misconceptions / misinformation about the lore. nobody in the Ghost fandom 100% follows the lore. as much as i try to, it is impossible because the Ghost lore & worldbuilding has historically been 1) very hard to find because it's scattered across so many different sources, 2) inconsistent because Tobias Forge didn't have a plan for a long time, and 3) difficult to interpret due to the fact that a lot of the lore is presented in a humorous / joking way. very little about the lore actually gets explained, and it has all changed a lot and will continue to change over time. i'd say that probably 99% of Ghost fans are not picky about people not following the lore because they don't even know the actual facts of the lore themselves, but that's okay. and the people who do know the lore are nice too. i'm picky about people not following the lore, but i promise i'm still nice!! i have friends who have crazy AUs and have headcanons that are absolutely not aligned with the canon lore at all, and i'm chill with that. in this fandom, people tend to just make up whatever they want. personally, i'm not a fan of doing that because i like having a certain amount of rules and guidelines to base ideas & headcanons on, and i take more of an analytical approach to the lore rather than a purely creative approach. i'm really picky about the official / canon lore because i honestly think it's really really interesting! i wish more people would talk about it and acknowledge the interesting and funny and cool things in the official / canon lore. it is really disappointing to me that a lot of people seem to be uninterested in it and ignore it. i think people could make a lot of interesting and fun headcanons and AUs and art and fanfiction and stuff if people knew more about the canon lore to draw inspiration from! so this is why my main thing here is posting Ghost lore stuff for other fans to see.

[ask-dced]

Question for the rest of the local group (and other iterators)! what effect do you think that moons collapse (and subsequent reawakening and freedom) will have on the quest to find the solution? new paths to explore and all!

(OOC Answer)

Disconnecting a puppet from a can is a very undesirable condition to be in. The puppet (in my headcanon) is the epicenter of control for an iterator, so its absence would be a major detriment. Not to mention that the effort required to disconnect under normal circumstances would be immense, requiring breaking taboos in order to even attempt it on your own.

Disconnection from the can would usually only be desirable if the rest of the can was in a dying or irrecoverable state. But at that point it would require either blind luck and/or the great charity of an iterator's purposed organisms in order to recover it.

Moon's disconnection is, to put it simply, a fluke. In this AU, the mechanical arm and umbilical got hit in *just* the right way to have them both sever from the can while leaving her puppet alive.

All this to say; not many iterators will attempt it. Those who will probably weren't working that hard on the Great Problem anyways. Some may dedicate resources to alternatives to full disconnection; for instance, creating avatars that they can control, or generating simulations and getting lost within their mind.

So, overall, the whole thing probably won't have much of an impact on the Great Problem. At least, under my interpretation. Feel free to tag with any alternate theories or how your oc's would react to Moon's situation!

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

I see your tags on the Wocky and Alita art, I would love to hear your thoughts on Alita actually!

I only need one person to show interest in what I have to say for me to talk forever and ever, thank you. HAHA Okay, in seriousness, this won't be as thorough/long as the Klavier post because... there really isn't much to her, but I find it extremely interesting how Alita falls into the same category of witnesses as April May and Dahlia without being — and I mean no offence to her when I say this — stunning? Like, with April and Dahlia, there's a very clear mass appeal to them which most people point out. Contrariwise, Alita's appearance is really only commented on by Trucy, and just glancing at her portrait, you can see that, without her slightly outlandish fashion, she's frankly nothing to write home about.

So why am I discussing this? Surely it's a little reductive to analyse female characters beginning with their appearances? Usually, yes, but that's the thing about this category of witnesses: their pretty faces aren't just pretty faces.

For April and Dahlia, their beauty is part of their arsenal. It functions as both their defence and their weapon of choice; they know how to wield it to bring people under their heel. Alita being ordinarily pretty instead of drop-dead gorgeous deprives her of that weapon and leads you to wonder how she became a mafia heiress to begin with. It also parallels her to Mimi Miney in a way that goes beyond the 'murderous nurse who worked for and killed her awful boss' comparison you get on the surface. Presumably, Alita, like Mimi, only got to where she was because she managed to fool the people around her into believing she was less dangerous than she actually is. Mimi did this by feigning stupidity and inviting people to underestimate her. Alita seems to do this by showing them what they want to see.

When she first meets Apollo and Trucy, Alita stays quiet and spends more time listening to them than she does talking. Once she has a hold on who they are, then she slips into her persona, and I find it interesting how she doesn't even attempt to come across as particularly delicate or lovelorn? Instead she goes for the relatively typical role of a distressed, indulgent loved one earnestly entreating Apollo for help. I'm inclined to say she does this because her read on Apollo makes her realise that he'd likely be exasperated or annoyed by such a person; but it's also almost as if she knows she doesn't have the disposition to pull off that frail, damsel-in-distress archetype and has resigned herself to being ordinary. Like how she looks. The next time she has to reapply her persona, Alita's appearing in court, and again she makes subtle adjustments that best suit her situation. The judge is old, so she takes a chance on expressing her dedication as a wife while balancing her dedication as a righteous citizen, which works. But oddly enough, despite her successes, I don't think Alita is actually good? At donning disguises? Everyone I've seen discuss this case has been able to guess almost immediately that she's the culprit, and maybe we're just prepped by past characters like her that have appeared, but I don't think she's even that convincing in the game.

Both the identities she assumes are risky manoeuvres that happen to fall in her favour, and she's not particularly dedicated to maintaining the front. When she asks Apollo to be Wocky's defence, she admits that marrying him is largely a chance at a more exciting life than some great love story; Plum Kitaki straight up says that there's a darkness in Alita she doesn't like, despite how docile Alita behaves in front of her; and Wocky has moments where he slips up and calls her things like, "imposter" and "fallen angel", implying that at least subconsciously, he knows she's not what she makes herself out to be. Even her general mannerisms don't greatly differ between her actual self and the mask who's blunt her claws — nothing is ever overtly coy or cutesy — and when Apollo brings up the fact she was Wocky's nurse, she drops the facade almost immediately. There's no waffling, no, "Whatever do you mean?"s or, "You're scaring me"s, just the statement, "I don't know what you mean by 'meaning', Mr. Justice!" delivered in a sudden cool, frosted steeliness.

And I think that steel is what really makes her different.

See, the other women are all driven to crime by some defining trait in themselves caused by their circumstances. For Dahlia, it's her desperate need to be free of the Fey clan; for Mimi, it's grief over her sister's unjust death; and for April, it's her fear of Redd White. You don't really get that with Alita. Instead of there being something dark in her life that leads her down this path, she just seems... tired. Tired of being "pretty enough" but not "gorgeous", tired of being the obedient nurse to the corrupt doctor, tired of being ordinary. There's no predatory external force pushing her into a corner, there's no abusive family beliefs pinning her down. There's just an ordinary life, lived dull and ordinarily, and she had had enough. So what does this girl, who's tired and ordinary in every way except the steel that lines her spine, do to get out of this?

She gambles.

Marrying into the mafia was a gamble, seeking Apollo as council was a gamble, shooting Dr. Meraktis was a gamble. Every decision she's made since she met Wocky has been a series of high-stakes gambles that leave her life on the line all so she won't be second-best anymore. This time, she was going to be the one on top. No matter what.

... And I'm sorry for loving evil women, but girlboss?? Girlboss???

I've heard people say they're disappointed that her "breakdown" is just an extension of her usual damage sprite, but it's honestly one of my favourite "breakdowns" in the series ever? Just because it isn't really one? Everything Alita has done up till now has been reckless, calculated risk, of course being convicted for murder is no different than losing in any other aspect of her life. Of course you're not going to get more than her damaged sprite, because this doesn't warrant a more dramatic reaction. She's lived this whole time knowing it could all come crashing down around her, and it finally did.

She made a bad bet. You caught her. Oh well.

The frosted girl of steel, standing tall to the very end. It's kind of sad that, even after all that, she's still seen as only second-best, incomparable to mimi, dahlia or any of the other women who've stood in her place.

[writing-hat]

Out of curiosity, and you don't have to answer if you don't want to.

how would jay (from your fic) react to seeing or hearing about Arrakore?

SORRY FOR TAKING SO LONG TO ANSWER I needed to figure out how it would happen (idk if this is complete or not but it should be)

anyway bbnb!jay meeting Arrakore!

oh he would FREAK OUT

Like, real and heavy panic attacks that make me absolutely tense every time I write them

He would not feel safe every time he's around Arrakore, and panic alone in a room as soon as he can or something I think.

because Nadakhan kept lying to him about how djinns really were (for intimidation purposes mainly, but also because he was pursuing his own sort of ideal that lead to him getting banished from his homeworld (I'll explain all that in another fic that's taking me a while to write dw about it for now)), Jay is going to think Arrakore has to be lying all the time, or at the very least playing with them

He might even think Arrakore might be planning revenge for his people, like Nadakhan had, or is at the very least working with him or something

First scenario. First meeting might be Jay freaking out with his powers going insane, and him actually loosing control for the first time in a while. This might lead to Arrakore trying to help him control his powers, only for everything to get worse.

Or, second scenario, Jay might attack on purpose, trying to get rid of someone he knows is an enemy. There's no way that djinn would be on their side, and his friends trust him cuz they don't remember. That's it. Nya? She trusts the guy, but she can be wrong, and that's okay. He'll do the dirty work for her

3rd scenario would be Jay not attacking, after being told by the others not to, but being tense, not letting him out of his sight for even a second. Or trying to avoid him.

If it's during his amnesia, I'm considering the first or third being more of what could happen. I do like the idea of him not knowing why he's so scared, why he's so terrified of someone he's never known

Maybe even have Nadakhan's face replacing the Arrakore's every now and then, and him not really knowing what to do

I have multiple ideas mainly because I'm not done with my fic, and I have not decided on what the resolution of his emotions or powers is going to be. I mean, I have something I consider a vague idea, but based on how I handle it, Jay is going to have more or less control of himself whenever things like those are going to happen to him

Also, depending on whether Arrakore knows it's because of Nadakhan or not, his actions are going to be very much different as well

Cuz he knows how much of a twisted bastard the banished prince was, and he knows he must've done something terrible if Jay panics whenever he sees him like that

The worst in this, is that I see Arrakore being a kind and good soul, always trying to help out the lightning ninja

only for it to ultimately fail

But yeah! Overall, Jay would be terrified, and not trusting of Arrakore. He'd even try to get rid of him at all cost, and if he understands that his friends trust that guy, then he might try to do that behind their backs. I am one to believe Jay would be ruthless when it comes to a situation that is serious, especially if it's to protect his friends

An even twisted way for things to happen, would Jay taking sorta revenge about Nadakhan on Arrakore. How? Plenty of ideas there, idk if you guys want me to elaborate cuz this is already VERY long (and I'm sorry about that MJKERRLGK I digress easily help)

(Of course this would be resolved but it would take TIME. so so much TIME. And I am one to take time and write a lot when it comes to comfort and all so yea.)

thank you for the ask!! and I hope this answered properly

see you around!

[luck-of-the-drawings]

(OLD OC SKETCHES) Meet Sunnabelle Von Sunnoviche, final daughter of the Sunnoviche family. Peeking from behind a window, she witnessed a wizards final spell, one that reduced the world to a wasteland. Her noble blood damned her to [HELL], but unwanting to suffer with her family, she made a deal with the devil. She now hunts in his name. The top of her head was taken by the blast on that day. The fires of her spirit have boiled her blood into a super-heated plasma.

[collegeboysam]

Hi!! Are you still interested in Lucemond?? I’m obsessed with your Hotd fic!!

Yeessiiirrrr!! 🥰🥰 sometimes i forget i don't talk much about hotd or asoiaf here, i keep it mostly on discord and twitter (wich is locked lol) so in my mind I feel like I'm openly talking about it all the time and then I remember like ohhh wait right on tumblr I don't post about it as much (mostly bc I don't really know many people in the fandom here? which is sad.)

Also thank you sooo much! 💕💕💕 Holding your ask close to my heart 🥰 it makes me really happy that you like the story because I fucking love writing it, I'm having the best time with it!

Please know I'm constantly thinking about updating, it's in my mind 24/7. The chapter has been done for a while, but I have an issue called my stupid fuckassjob that I hate 😭😭 it's been a nightmare lately, I never have free time anymore. Since english is not my first language I have to go over the chapters like...twice or more before I post them to do corrections and whatnot, and because of my job I haven't really had time to sit down and read and correct grammar and mistakes properly (the chapters are a mess before go over them rip 😭)

Sometimes I worry that it looks like I won't update "you may bury my body" anymore or something, but that's not the case at aaaaall, I swear. I enjoy writing it too much and I'm excited for the upcoming parts. Plus at this point I know I'm writing more lcmd as soon as I finish this fic, because I have too many ideas about them bouncing around in my head. Endless possibilities when falling for the one they were fated to hate doesn't fix either Aemond nor Lucerys, actually makes them worse, but that's somehow even better <3

[fakeoutbf]

.

[solifelessblog]

How do you do your shading and highlights? they're so expresive!

❤️ Thank u!!! and well, I do two different things when it comes to shadows/lights on the face and clothes!

In the case of the face, according to the base skin tone I use, first I choose a slightly darker color to give a shadow across the face.

Then, another darker tone for more marked details (lips/eyelids/ears/hair on the forehead) And finally a lighter tone under the eyes and nose.

I also add a multiply layer of red on the cheeks and ears!

With the clothes and neck, I take the opposite color to the base in the color wheel and make the layer overlay/multiply depending on which one I like best.

I also add a small gradient to the clothes, the base color and another slightly darker one.

I add some light brush strokes in random places, I don't care much about the light source, have fun! Also I add shadows to the eyes, a little texture to the hair and paint some parts of the lineart.

And finally some hard shadows with multiply!

I hope I explained myself asdfghjkl Normally this is the process I do for my drawings and, it never hurts to see references to understand where the shadows and lights would go in case you want a more realistic approach ✨

[kimbapisnotsushi]

oh also this is completely unrelated but what’s ur stance on semi suga cousins hc. this is the same anon btw hi ‼️‼️

hi!!!!!! i think that headcanon is super super funny and i vibe with it!!! it definitely depends on how suga and semi are characterized but i think it would add a lot to their dynamic and it'd be fun to play around with. it would def make the shiratorizawa match 100x more painful, but on the other hand i think semi and suga could lean on each other with their similar fears/insecurities. they also drag each other SO much for their love lives (regardless of whoever you pair them with) because that's what family does!!

also i'm fond of making hq characters related in general i personally think yaku and sakashima of nohebi could also be cousins which would make the nohebi match a million times funnier