#As I don't know all that many... Old timey? Words

[edutainer2022]

This is a glimpse of my bosom future!headcanon timeline. Just 'cause (I came across a West Wing gif-set, probably why). It also features in Timey-Wimey and Piano Practice. Though, always in flux the future is... Virgil and Kayo have a chat - they worry about Scott. A lot. That's it, that's the story. Some things, old and new, hurt.

Warning: an OC death mentioned in passing (please, read the end note*, if you kindly make it that far).

WORRIES

A gust of wind ruffled his hair - still trademark styled, but more liberally sprinkled with salt and silver now - as Shadow landed on the pad. Kayo still used her trusty old bird for errands and investigative missions, although her flightsuit was a mandatory solid black of the Secret Service now. Ms. Kyrano, Chief of World President's Security Detail, joined him wordlessly at the railings of the rooftop terrace, overlooking the magnificent vista of the Alps, crystal blue sky and the beautiful city below. Virgil sighed.

"I need updates on his BP and heart rate stats twice a day, uploaded to my comm directly. Thrice a day if there's a... situation or Ambassador Lemaire shows up, or the First Lady starts a war or something..."

Kayo suppressed a smile and leaned sideways on the railing.

"Eos gleans his stats every morning and every night before bedtime from all the residences sensors."

"Yeah, but Eos doesn't have access to the situation room. Not that Scott knows of, anyway. And I can't risk..."

Virgil was short for breath and the last words came out as a croak. Kayo squinted and squeezed his arm.

"You don't approve?"

"That he had a cardiac episode after the memorial service and then went on to take the most stressful job in the world? No, I well damn don't approve!"

Virgil's knuckles went white from the grip on the railings. Kayo stayed silent, giving room to his anguish, a hand on his bicep an unwavering anchor. When dark brown eyes next turned back to her, they were glistening with a sheen of tears.

"How does he do it, Kayo? After we lost Jeffy Jr.*? I can't breathe sometimes, it hurts so bad! And I'm just an uncle."

The pain flared readily from an ever fresh wound. Virgil's voice hitched:

"Allie felt so guilty he left for that deep space mission! I'm so scared all the time. How does Scott even cope?!"

Kayo snorted at that.

"Have you MET Scott? He doesn't."

A wide arch of the black clad arm indicated the massive World President Residence and Offices all around and below them.

"He hoisted up the heaviest mantle he could fathom and let duty consume his every waking and sleeping hour, drowning out all other thoughts. There's nothing much heavier than the weight of the actual world, huh?"

"Guess not. That's what worries me most..."

Virgil's sigh was tinged with bottomless rue this time. Keeping busy with International Rescue is the one thing that keeps me from going crazy. The echo of the words biggest brother said to him so many years ago, on a dark, dark snowy night, rippled through memory. He hoped so much they were past... THAT stretch of self-destructive coping. For a blissful while, moreso after Dad got back, they were. Jeffy Jr. and Skye were born. It went unspoken between them all, but Jeffy was their golden chance at a Scott that was happy and carefree, encouraged and inspired by legacy, but not subsumed or crashed by it. But they were the Tracies, so the universe would never let them truly catch a break. Ever, it seemed...

Kayo, ever the psy-ops, ever the bereft family like them all, sensed a need to shift the subject to something brighter.

"Did you get to see Lucy rehearse?"

Virgil's whole face lit up immediately and he beamed at her.

"Oh yes! I was at the dress rehearsal, and she asked me to accompany her after lunch today, for vocal practice before the premiere! Though I think it's more of a courtesy - she's got world class concert pianists at her disposal."

Kayo was smiling fondly in return. Virgil's kids were as much a reflection of his kind and caring nature, and talent, as Scott's son and daughter were that of his consuming drive, focus, and dedication to duty. Okay, maybe not to go there at the moment! Kayo waved the imaginary wisps of hair out of her eyes to blink away unwarranted tears and regroup.

"Have you considered you're maybe Lucy's favorite world-class concert pianist?"

Virgil's smile was impish, yet full of love. A sudden idea occurred, as his glance fell on the Shadow, and made him gasp.

"Please, tell me he's not cowboying it here in Delta-One?!"

Kayo actually let herself laugh at the implication. They certainly wouldn't put it past Scott to ditch the entourage and take his augmented Thunderbird out for a spin.

"Relax! The Joint Chiefs requested an on-the-go meeting, so it's a scenic route across the Atlantic on a GDF bus. No Delta-drive jumps for our favorite Commander today. Besides, the whole media circus tagged along from NYC. Nobody would miss the World President's favorite niece perform Carmen at the Season opening of Vienna Opera."

"Scott doesn't have favorites!"

The response was automatic, which scored another of Kayo's smile. It wasn't quite a secret the family consensus placed Scott a higher ranking Dad in the overarching hierarchy of Tracy parents. Jeff Sr., the proud Grandpa, was more of a partner in crime and a co-conspirator to everyone's endless befuddlement.

Virgil's take-away from her previous statement was, however, unexpected.

"So there IS a situation?! Kayo, I need his stats THE MOMENT they land!"

"Nothing your Casey had warranted worthy of high treason to inform me about. Virgil, it's fine. He'll be fine!"

That was true. Virgil's second youngest was currently the Deputy Chief of Communications of the World President office and, besides Kayo herself, the family's trusty person on the inside. She virtually worshipped the ground her Big Uncle walked and would flag anything potentially too worrisome with regard to his mood or health. Besides, John would probably know in advance anyway if it were Bereznik or any number of regions giving grief du jour (something the World President himself probably didn't need to know about, for plausible deniability and a semblance of restful sleep).

Kayo made a point to amend her reassurance with a shoulder squeeze. Dark brown eyes turned to her were frantic again.

"Look after him, will you?!"

Kayo gave a firm nod in acknowledgement. A pang of an old heartache flared up. But it became a well practiced, tried and true spiel between them, through the years - he was burning himself to light up the world, she was the shadow.

---------

*[spoiler alert] The relentless narrative logic and poetic symmetry part of me dictates that Scott, in the later arch of his journey, would, very likely, have to loose a son to his own legacy and footsteps. The way Jeff dodged a bullet (just barely). But the regular bleeding heart part of me screams in agony in the face of such abject tragedy and comes up with elaborate scenarios in my head how it all could eventually be okay. Dad Jeff couldn't have used up all of Tracy limit of miracles.

#methinks i have astronomy #thunderbirds are go #virgil tracy didn’t subscribe to this #virgil tracy #kayo kyrano #scott tracy needs a hug #thunderbirds 2015 #lots of thinly veiled oc's #that bosom headcanon #my fic #a shadow of skayo

[oliveheart-worldbuilding]

GOD been thinking about my OCs (instead of insecticides as I should) and!! I have this deity, their name is Lady Mallow, she's the God of death and a bunch of things more. And like, I'm going to talk about her!

Lady Mallow's main form are mallows (of course) but, also, that of a human. In most stories, she'll actually be represented as a human (exact descriptions vary but all agree that they're always surrounded by mist as if difficult to see or comprehend fully)

So, because I don't want my cats to be weirdly xenophobic towards outsiders and all their lifestyles, clan cats actually look at kittypets with a mix of confusion and awe.

To them, humans are wildcards, sometimes they take you away forever, they can be dangerous, they drive prey away, they are clumsy and obsessed with touching! the things that they do make no sense! But, making cats live longer? Not getting sick at all? How?

At first their concept of a deity of death was nebolous, it didn't have any shape. As they started to develop burying rituals tough, they noticed that mallows would grow on the places where their loved ones laid. This soon started to form an idea.

However, Lady Mallow's relation to humans wouldn't come until much later and thanks to Silvereye, a Mountainclan seer. You see, Silvereye got extremely sick at some point in his life. It came to a point in which everyone knew he would die. But instead of accepting death, Silvereye told his clanmates that he had received a vision and that he was to leave to the humans. His clanmates made it so that he was found by a human and carried away. Everyone thought they would never see him again, but! They did! And Silvereye was stronger and healthier than ever. He spoke tales of weird medicines and of falling asleep and waking up smelling odd. He also spoke about the human who had nursed him back to health, of how all she had wanted in exchange was love! How strange!

Silvereye continued to have a normal life in his clan but, for some reason, he just didn't die! He lived longer than all his clanmates and never got sick much. Because he lived so long, there were many the generations that heard his stories and, after his death, those would go on to inspire the mythos every cat knows today.

Of course, many other would join in. Sparkbelly of Seaclan, who was handed over to humans as a sickly child by her grieving mother, and Russetclaw of Brookclan, a warrior turned seer who miraculously survived extreme wounds and infection. Both of them would go through similar experiences and would add to Lady Mallow's stories with those of their own, quickly solidifying humans as creatures related to her.

As to why humans love cats and are willing to serve them, well...

"There's this story, it's a sad one, it tells of a mother that is about to lose all her kittens to sickness, famine and predators. Of a mother that wouldn't stop crying and wailing for she couldn't live without her dear children. So miserable her cries were that even the mallows took pity on her."

"When the Lady appeared she tried to console the mother, she told her that death was her friend and it would receive her kittens in warm paws offering nothing but relief of their hunger, tiredness and hopelessness. Yet it only made the mother's heart break more."

"So she asked the cat what she could do to stop her cries. The mother answered she wanted no more than to protect her kittens of all tragedies, to make sure they all lived happily and, when death came to them, that it was only due to old age."

"Lady Mallow, as merciful and pious as is, decided to transform the mother into a new creature, one resembling themself, so that she had the power to help fullfil her wish. The mother took her offspring and, grateful as she was, swore to the Lady that she would forever care for catkind. Thus her children, and those who followed in her care, survived, were happy and died of old age"

(quick explanation/context time! In Spanish 'criar malvas'='to grow mallows' and it means being dead! This expression comes form the fact that mallows grow well in any soil here in Spain, being able of growing in really poor ground. Back in the day, where cemetary grounds where umkept, these flowers would grow everywhere giving the impression that the flowers where using human bodies as fertilizer. In this case, my cats would try to keep their cemeteries from growing certain types of plants such as thistles or foul smelling plants that would make cats uncomfotable spending time there. This artificial selection of plants eventually made some plants (mallows) grow more than others! Giving the impression that they were, somehow, related to death. Nowadays mallows are sacred and a very important part of burying rituals.)

Lady Mallow uses she/her and they/them pronouns.

I'll try to write more about her in the future! I really like this concept I've came up with honestly.

#warrior cats #warriors #the iberian clans #warrior cats oc #Mythology #Lady Mallow #Rambles #I wish I could write more! #But the insecticides... They call to me. #Wish me luck studying!!! #As a remainder: I'm Spanish and I'm dumb #I tried to make sound... Pretty. at some points #I probably just made it jarring because it's difficult for me to keep up using the same language #As I don't know all that many... Old timey? Words #I still enjoyed it! Hope you guys do too?

[ivestas]

Thank you for writing my request, I loved it!! I have another idea but it's a deeper subject so I understand not everyone is comfortable with writing about it. Could you write about a younger reader and the team see self harm wounds and scars while they were injured or while they were changing? (Something along those lines) and what they would do/ react? Xx

what is most precious to you?

Summary: The 141 discover a part of you that you’d wanted to bury.

Tags: TW s/elf harm scars + sui/cide and talk of it, please read carefully/don't read if this topic triggers you, platonic!141 x medic!fem!reader, reader implied to be mentally ill, younger!reader, descriptions of blood and injury, canon typical violence, soap + ghost focused, unedited

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: im glad u enjoyed the previous req anon! i hope I'm able to do this req justice too 🫡

You’d been a part of the 141 long enough for the others to know and trust you.

An esteemed medic that knew medicine and all things fixing like the back of her hand, despite your age—it was a natural skill, it seemed. Your hands were always so damn fast with a gauze—hell, even a dirty rag you’d make use of in an instant. 

You were just good. Reliable. Consistent. Seemingly just a normal young lady whose only eccentricity was the job she chose to be: a medic for a merc group. 

Soap often liked to joke about that normalcy that clung onto you. 

“Bet when you’re on leave you work a 9 to 5 and sleep right at 8. I’m right, aren’t I?”

You snorted. “No, I’d sleep at 9.” 

“Ohhhhh, daring! Don’t be too crazy! Ya might just lose a leg!” 

Even Ghost would sometimes jump in, adding his own joke occasionally. 

“Should I get you a planner for your birthday? A nice, minimalist one with neutral stickers to match.”

You’d scoff and jab back, whether it be at Ghost’s mask or Soap’s current and past hair-styles.

But they never gave you a tough time about it—they were glad that one of them was able to blend back to civvy life with ease. 

Price even said it was his favorite trait—”sometimes, you need the practicality and mindset of a normal lady to get shit done.”

“Thanks?” 

The guys all had a similar image of what your childhood was like: middle-class, parents all stiff-like and old-timey, your favorite hobbies probably were things like football or reading, things like that. 

However, that image shattered during a post-mission intermission. 

Things went wrong, completely askew—the enemies were clearly prepared for the attack, because landmines were everywhere and the area was crawling with hostiles.

It was a resounding loss—many casualties, wounded, etc. 

You could hardly keep up, trying to patch up as many as possible, even when the sky rained of bullets and the air tasted thickly of gunpowder and death. It was like a place between purgatory and hell, a constant flow of shouts, screams, explosions.

It was too late for you to noticed a bullet grazed your arm; it was deep enough to be visible, but luckily it wasn’t aimed low enough for it to shoot into your arm. 

You had ignored the wound—in your mind, it only made sense to focus on the soldiers who were fighting for their lives and riddled with bullet wounds. 

So you just did that: focus on them. 

But, due to the constant movement and strain, the graze only worsened, almost tearing. The adrenaline numbed the pain, but you knew it was gonna hurt like a bitch soon enough. 

Luckily though, Ghost shouted in your ear through the comms. 

“Bravo-1, retreat!—fuckin’ hell—everyone, retreat!”  

You did just that—retreat. 

Huffing and puffing, you were quick to run to the distant chopper you recognized as the 141′s. A haze of sand was the only saving grace as it covered you from the enemies direct line of sight.

Soap pulled you into the helicopter with a quick grab of your wrist, completely unaware of the graze that arm sustained. You let out a sharp hiss of pain, feeling the skin tear just a little more. 

The entrance of the helicopter shut, and with both of you heaving, the plane finally shot back into the air, rocking back and forth the slightest bit. The sound of bullets slowly melted away into harsh whirring and mechanical buzz. 

You took a moment to collect yourself, inhaling sharply before you got up, arm still bleeding. 

But, strangely, you felt it drip along your arm and into your hand, running along your finger—ah, it should’ve been obvious, the sleeve of your wounded arm had completely torn. 

You lifted the arm, examining the wound. 

Scars of varying sizes, textures, and freshness—some having strange bubbly dots, others consisting of messy lines. Some of the fresher scars had torn a little, causing thin lines or red to rise. 

Your blood ran cold. You glance up, hoping—praying—that Soap didn’t see, or even understand the implications. 

But you could see he was staring, the cogs in his mind slowly snapping together. 

You put your arm away to your side, hiding it from his view. 

“Lass—“

“I need a medkit. We have one on the plane?” 

You loathed the look of sadness, of pity that shone in his eyes, pulled at the muscles of his face. 

Don’t. Stop.

I’m not weak. Don’t—I’m not weak! 

A chorus of words, feelings, of palpable dark was what filled your mind now. Insecurity, self-hatred, all of it—you’d been working on it, trying to regulate, to reason with the miasma that had taken ahold of your consciousness.

But, fuck, you’ve revealed it to Soap of all people—he felt bad, didn’t he? Disgusted? Worried? He was gonna tell Price, wasn’t he? That your unfit for the 141, that—

A hand rested on the top of your shoulder.

“Can I patch you up?” Soap asked softly. 

You grit your teeth. Moving away from his hand, you shook your head, glaring at the floor. A small splatter of blood was there. “I can fix it myself.” 

You expected—wanted—him to berate you. 

But he didn’t. He was kind. 

“Sure, kid. I’ll just get ya the med kit—stay put.” 

Another wave of shame rocked you. You sat on one of the small seats connected to the walls of the heli, rubbing away the small bits of dried blood. 

Consumed by your thoughts, you didn’t hear Soap murmuring to Ghost. 

“The kid—she, ah...” He ran a finger along his wrist. “Catch my drift?” 

“Cutting herself?” Ghost said bluntly. 

“Sometimes I wish you had a little more tact, L.T.” 

Ghost ignored him. “They fresh or old?”

“Both,” he sighed, grabbing a med kit from one of the plane’s various compartments. “What’re we supposed to do? Don’t wanna scare off the kid, but don’t wanna leave her on her own devices hacking away at ‘erself!” 

Ghost grabbed the kit from his hands. “I’ll handle this. You sit down—go near the Captain. Try to leave us some privacy.” 

Hesitantly, Soap nodded. “Work your magic, sir.” 

Ghost made his way to the other end of the helicopter where you were. You were hunched over your wound, a deep frown on your face. It’s uncharacteristic, but he knew it was a part of yourself you’d prefer to be shrouded in dark. Suffering wasn’t a nice look, was it?

But it was human. Denying your own right to feel it—it made Ghost frown too.

He sat beside you, kit in his hand. You had finally looked up then, alarmed. 

“Gimme your arm, kid.” 

You opened your mouth.

“Not leavin’ till I patch your arm up, so don’t even try.” 

Shamefully, you lifted your arm slowly. 

He took it with gentle but firm hands, a thumb running along a faint scar. 

Ghost opened the kit haphazardly with another hand. 

“When I was your age—maybe a little younger—couldn’t find much meaning in everything.”

He lifted his hand from your arm and grabbed alcohol and a small cotton rag. Dampening the rag with alcohol, he drew it to your arm, rubbing away the excess blood and cleaning the wounds. You didn’t make any noise, only breathing raggedly. 

“The suffering was pointless, in my eyes; thought, ‘this isn’t bloody fair’. Born in a shitty house with a shitter father, food hardly ever on the table, my mind deteriorating, and the world cast in deep gray.”

You nodded. 

Ghost grabbed a bandage gauze, unravelling it and wrapping it gently around the graze and the scars. It was calming, watching him work away, even if the wrapping was a little clumsy. 

“The harsh reality came a little while later, and it’s that people like me—us—we gotta work hard for shit to change. That this weight forced upon us, it’s only we that can shed it off. It’s still not fair—frankly, suicide is easier. Thought of doing it for the longest time... But...” 

He shook his head. “In my eyes, it’s a coward’s way out. We should never die by our own hands—there’s always something to live for.”

“What are you living for?” 

“Mmmm.... For tomorrow’s pint.” 

You laughed. 

He grabbed a safety pin and pinned the end of the gauze. “...now, I know it’s ‘silly’ to say, but you know we’re here for you?—the 141′s got your back, kid—how about this, let’s make a deal.”

“Yeah?” 

“You ever have the urge to cut yer arm, you come straight to me, or the others. They’ll listen. They care.”

They care.  

It’s weird, but hearing the words said out loud, it hit you. 

They really care. 

You took in a shaky breath. “Thank... you.” 

“It’s no problem at all, kid. Stay strong.”

AO3

Masterlist

Requests are open

#modern warfare x reader #modern warfare 2 x reader #cod x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soap x reader #tw s/elf harm #idk if its an unpopular opinion to assume ghost has some variation of depression #but its a personal headcanon! #john mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #simon riley x reader #mw2 x reader

[copperbadge]

A newsletter has a regular feature going down the list of Notable Sandwiches on Wikipedia. This week's is the hot dog. The writer emailed 30 professors. I commend everyone for the well-thought-out answers, especially the grad student who produced graphs. buttondown(.)email/theswordandthesandwich/archive/notable-sandwiches-89-hot-dog/

What a fun feature overall! I haven't reviewed the entirety of the Hot Dog Document yet, but I feel like now I want to do a bunch of back reading, too. I like reading about sandwiches, even if I'm fairly picky when it comes to them myself.

I will say, and perhaps this is populist of me or perhaps it's even more ivory tower than the academics, but as we all know I have a longstanding solution to all of this "is a hot dog a sandwich" nonsense, which is this:

"Sandwich" is not a noun. It is an adjective.

I don't mean that literally, like I haven't found some weird archaic dictionary that tells us so, but "sandwich" as a word is not used as a noun but rather as a descriptor of a thing, ergo, adjective. An object is a sandwich if you must apply "sandwich" to the end of the noun in order to properly identify it. It's like how many different kinds of dogs can be "brindle" but that is not a breed of dog and doesn't stand on its own as a classification.

Now, I have no objection to anyone saying "a hot dog sandwich" because that's simply a redundancy and if they wish to, that's their prerogative; it sounds fun and old timey, like saying "a hamburger steak". But we need not classify a hot dog as a sandwich simply because you don't need to say "hot dog sandwich" for the person you're speaking with in order to make yourself understood. Much as you would not generally say "Italian beef sandwich" even when speaking to someone who might not know what an italian beef is. You say "an italian beef" and then elucidate.

There is a possible exception to the rule, which is the Grilled Cheese Sandwich, commonly referred to as simply a Grilled Cheese despite taking a very sandwich-like form, but there are three arguments one can make regarding this:

It SHOULD be called a Grilled Cheese Sandwich to distinguish it from Halloumi

It is technically a "melt" which like a hamburger is distinct from a sandwich (ie, a Tuna Melt or Patty Melt) in the classification of "sandwich-like objects that need not be called a sandwich"

The grilled cheese is the exception that proves the rule and this is right and just, because grilled cheese sandwiches are the best and should be considered special.

Thank you for coming to my TEDtalk; I will not be taking questions at this time.

#food #sandwiches #hot dogs #sandwich taxonomy

[secretagentspydetectiveninja]

The new trilogy means we finally got official French translations of the fifth and sixth games (the fourth already had one) so I did my thing and played through them, since they're always a lot of fun. Here are some things about French Dual Destinies I thought you might like to know:

Yes, it's set in France as per usual. They are all French people who live in Paris. And yes, that means that in this universe there is a Japanese village themed around yokai within throwing distance of Paris.

Athena lived in America in this version, and therefore peppers her speech with English and Spanish. My favourite unhinged franglais line was "let's get au travail" which I will be using from now on because it's hilarious

Many characters got French pun names again. Simon's name is "Jack Lamenoire" -- Jack, because the French version of Simon Says uses the name Jack/Jacques, and "lame noire" means "black blade". (Also he's not British or anything in this version, he just speaks in somewhat old-timey French.)

He has multiple nicknames for the judge that are all slight variations of "Your Baldness". He doesn't do that "-dono" suffix thing but he does refer to Phoenix in particular as "Maître Wright".

...I don't like pointing out things I didn't like buuuuuut his voice is a huge downgrade. Actually, to be honest, I don't like the new French voices that much in general... idk man they just don't sound very enthusiastic...

Filch's name is "Arsène Loupet", reference to the famous fictional thief Arsène Lupin, which I thought was pretty cool! (Herlock Sholmes was also a reference to that series too btw!)

Athena and Apollo use informal pronouns for each other pretty much from the get-go, but there have been some changes from the previous games: Phoenix now uses the informal "tu" for Apollo (and Athena) whereas in the prev game he didn't, Pearl now uses "tu" for Phoenix as well, and Klavier uses "tu" for Apollo now (but Apollo still calls him the formal "vous" lmao)

SPEAKING OF... SPEAKING OF. The French localisation continues to utterly baffle me when it comes to Klavier (or Konrad as he's called in French). No listen, liSTEN. In the previous game he was specifically stated to be English and did his law exams in England and dropped English words into his speech (and this is still the case in the trilogy version, I checked). But now?? They seem to have gone back on it and in this game he says he's German again, like the in English translation??? But he's still dropping English words into his speech randomly????? Look I already went through the five stages of grief when I found out they'd english-ified him, I made my peace with it, and NOW they change it???????

God and his new French voice sucks too (his old one was actually good)... what have they done to you my poor boy, was making you English not bad enough T_T Oh and he and Athena didn't even get their little language club moment where they both start speaking in the same foreign language?? Like, that just straight-up didn't happen here and I had been waiting for it aauuugh it's cool it's fine it's cool i'm okay i'm--

True to Dual Destinies fashion, there are still typos. In an emotional moment, Apollo took a leave of asbence from the office. Not absence. Asbence.

I can't put my finger on it but Robin's coming out scene felt more... respectful in French? The English translation was done over a decade ago so it feels somewhat dated, maybe that's why... I obviously don't know if she was purposely written to be a trans girl but she very much comes across that way, and it feels like the French translators were aware of that interpretation and took it into account, idk maybe it's just me

THEY GOT RID OF MY FAVOURITE LINE. THE FORESHADOWEY ONE WHERE SIMON TELLS ATHENA THAT THE PERSON SHE WANTS TO SAVE MORE THAN ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD DOESN'T DESIRE HER DEFENCE, AND HE'S CLEARLY TALKING ABOUT HIMSELF. THE FRENCH MADE HIM SAY SOMETHING ELSE WAY LESS COOL. I don't wanna be like "FRENCH TURNABOUT ACADEMY IS DEAD TO ME" because most of it was awesome, but man these occasional things made me wanna flip tables

Cosmic Turnabout and Turnabout for Tomorrow were great in French though, so there's that. Clay's French name is "Pierre" which worked surprisingly well because it means stone or rock, and the moon rock was also called that, so like, the phantom had to kill Pierre in order to get the pierre... idk it worked and it was cool

Simon and Athena switch to using informal pronouns for each other very near the end of the game, in the scene where they work together to psychologically mess with the phantom. It's around the time when they start openly calling each other by first name since everyone knows now that they're old friends.

Phoenix and Edgeworth also occasionally refer to each other by first name in this game, which threw me off completely. (Reminder that Edgeworth's French name is "Benjamin Hunter". Just picture Phoenix standing in front of Edgeworth and calling him BENJAMIN. Now you understand how absolutely bizarre it felt.)

Here's the entirety of The Dissin' of Phoenix Wright in French

#ace attorney #dual destinies #aa5 spoilers #random stuff #there's actually a fan translation of this game too but last i checked it wasn't publicly available yet #i think i'd still like to play it though. i know they worked super hard on it #i'll make a post about the next game as well when i can be bothered bc i have stuff to say about that too

[itsplumwriter]

Baking for Bucky

POV: While browsing a small collector’s shop, Bucky finds a vintage WWII magazine from the 40s. He flips through the pages and spots a dessert recipe, asking if you could make it for him.

A/N: Just some fluffsss. I haven't written a fluffy piece in a while so I really hope you'll like this. I love baking, do y'all? It's such a comfort activity and I think it'd be so cute to bake for Bucky.

--- --- ---

“What are we making again?” you ask, pulling out the flour and sugar.

“Gingerbread. It’s a classic from the 40s,” Bucky says, flipping through the old-timey magazine. “Housewives used to pack it in their husband’s box lunches back in the day.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Housewife? I am a housewife now?”

He lowers the magazine, glancing at you. “You can be..."

You nearly trip trying to get the bowl. “Slow your roll, soldier...”

He chuckles as he helps you pull out the rest of the ingredients. You love him, obviously, and you could definitely see yourself marrying him. But you’re both enjoying the dating phase and there’s no need to rush things.

You add the ingredients to the bowl and stir it's contents carefully, noticing a concerned look on Bucky's face. "What's going on in that head of yours?"

Bucky smiles, enjoying the fact you know him so well. "The smell is just bringing me back... Usually sights, sounds, and smells bring me back to bad memories from my past, so it's kinda nice to have a smell trigger a good memory for once."

You smile and nod, hoping he'll say more; Bucky rarely opens up. When he does, you find it best to just keep quiet and let it flow naturally.

"I kinda miss the old days, you know?..." he continues. "Sometimes I hate that I was frozen for so long. That so many years were taken from me. Sometimes I wish I could have lived in the era I was supposed to.”

“I can understand that,” you say, nodding.

He approaches you, hugging you. “But the thing is if I hadn’t been frozen... I never would’ve met you."

He buries his head in the crook of your neck. "And that sorta makes it all worth it."

“Bucky,” you sigh. His words are sweet, but they make you upset. "I don't want you to say anything was worth what you went through..."

Bucky takes your hand, kissing your palm. “I mean it. And I meant it when I said I want you to be my wife...”

You smile. "Let's see how this gingerbread turns out first. You may change your mind..."

Bucky chuckles, rolling his eyes.

--- --- ---

The entire house is filled with the smell of gingerbread. A warm feeling enrobes the air, reminding you of Christmastime. You both curl up on the couch, eating a few slices with milk.

"You're clearly wifey material," Bucky chimes.

You raise an eyebrow. "Where did you hear that term..."

Bucky stares at you. "Sam."

You chuckle, shaking your head.

"No, but seriously... This has got to be one of the best desserts I've ever had."

You roll your eyes. "...Don't exaggerate, Bucky."

“I'm not! It's the loveliest thing I've ever tasted because the loveliest person made it for me."

You fiddle with a few gingerbread crumbs on your plate, blushing.

Bucky smiles to himself. "I remember one of my buddies used to have these all the time in his box lunch. He’d brag all the time to us that his wife made it for him... I can’t believe I had to wait nearly 90 years for my wife to make me some...”

You clench your jaw. “But I'm not your wife, Buckyy... I love you and I can see myself spending the rest of my life with you. But I don't think I'm ready just yet."

He gives you a soft smile. “No rush, doll... I believe I waited my whole life to meet you... It'd be an honor for me to wait a little longer..."

--- --- ---

AAAHHHH the flufffffff <33 love you all so much!! Did you like??

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#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fluff #bucky #bucky imagine #bucky imagines #bucky one shot #bucky oneshot #marvel #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel imagines #marvel imagine #marvel fluff #marvel fan fiction #marvel fanfic #marvel fic #sebastian stan #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan imagines

[familyvideostevie]

summer's early sway

thank you for voting in this poll! here is remus taking you to a craft fair and calling you his girlfriend for the first time xo | fluff, early relationship, 1k

It might be the most perfect day ever. It's warm but not too warm, the sunlight's sting soothed by a nice breeze. You've made it to the craft fair fairly early to avoid the crowds, though not as early as you'd planned. Despite Remus's best attempts at order in most parts of his life, it's more like controlled chaos. He tends to run a little behind though that's still earlier than anyone you know.

You've been on enough dates that you've lost count but not enough that it's stopped feeling new. You're meeting his friends for dinner tonight -- the first official time you'll all be hanging out together, though you've met the boys a few times here and there -- but today is all about the two of you. You're going to stroll around the craft fair and then go for a walk by the water in the summer sunshine and probably sneak some kisses.

The market is lovely and you tell Remus so. You've got your hand in the crook of his elbow like you're on an old-timey date.

"You think so?" he says, eyes crinkling. "I've not been but I thought you'd like it because of the music." There was a folk band playing by the entrance and he's right, you do love it. What is there to say to his kindness?

No words come, so you kiss his cheek instead. Remus looks like summer was made for him though you know he's most alive in the fall. The sun tans his skin and makes his scars more prominent which makes him more handsome, in your opinion. His hair highlights just a little bit and he loosens up in the sunshine. It's magic.

"Did I tell you how lovely you look today?" he says, small smile turning to a grin. His eye contact is so intense that you can only hold it for a few moments before you look down at your feet.

"You might have," you tell him. He's said it many times just this morning. "You do, too."

"Darling, you'll make me blush."

The market has plenty of beautiful things. Your own place is full of knick-knacks whereas Remus tends to be a bit more minimalist. It makes you smile to remember how you've given him a few things since you started dating and he's put them all in prominent places.

You find a tent of frog sculptures and name all of them. A beautiful and kind of eerie raven pendant in the same row catches your eye and you buy it for Lily's birthday.

"Don't let me forget to get soap for James' mum," Remus says, palm on your lower back as he watches the artist pack up your gift.

"Christmas shopping this early?" you tease.

His face is so close that you can't see all of it but you know what his smirk looks like. "Obviously," he says, voice low in your ear. "I've got to impress her. She's got to like me best."

Another row of stalls reveals one full of stuff made out of spoons. Wind chimes, clocks, kitchen utensils, belts. You're looking at a spoon lamp as Remus wanders further into the tent to chat with the man running it. Their voices carry but you don't pay much attention until you realize you're being called into the conversation.

"Maybe your girlfriend would want one?" the man asks Remus. You look up and find both of them looking at you, the man with a somewhat bemused expression and Remus with what you can only describe as adoration.

You walk over and see that he's been admiring a large collection of rings made from spoon handles. "What do you think, my girlfriend?" he asks cheekily. It's the first time he's actually called you this out loud to someone else -- you've discussed it, of course, and you figure that it's how he refers to you when you're not around but you've not heard it yet. And even though it's a bit of a joke it makes you feel like you've just sped down the steep part of a rollercoaster.

"Only if you get one, too, boyfriend." you say, though you're not totally sure where it comes from. Remus's eyes widen in mirth and he blushes a little.

Rings are much more Sirius's thing, so you gather, so you think Remus will laugh you off but he seems to actually consider it.

"Pick one for me, then." You laugh in delight and survey the display boxes of rings as he looks for one for you, too. You settle on a curved handle with an intricate twisty pattern that should fit his thumb and he picks a lovely one that will fit your thumb, decorated with a delicate flower and vine.

"Perfect," he says, sliding the ring onto your thumb as you slide your selection onto his. It's startlingly intimate, exchanging rings, even if they're made of spoon handles and going on your thumbs. Your heart beats loudly in your chest and you can't stop smiling.

The shopkeeper is grinning as he reads off the price and Remus pays. You are admiring your new ring in the light when he grabs your other hand and pulls you back into the row of tents.

"Quite stylish, Rem," you say. You lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek in thanks but he feels you coming and turns his head to catch your lips in a quick kiss.

"You're quite welcome," he says, smile turning cheeky. "Sirius is going to have a fit that he's not the only one wearing rings anymore."

"Oh, let him," you say. "From what you've told me, he could do with a bit of humbling."

Remus's eyes sparkle. "On that, darling, we agree." He kisses you again, just as quick but no less tender before he pulls away and points at something over your shoulder. "Oh, look! Soap!"

He drags you towards the tent to the sound of your laughter. Sure, you haven't been together very long, but you're pretty sure you could do this for the rest of your life.

thank you for reading <3 reblog, send feedback, masterlist here!

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x y/n #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders

[justjams2003]

Fast Pace- 13

Am I being mean by releasing the last 3 chapters week for week? Maybe just a bit 🤭

Summary: You're a hard-working Chef in Paris and after a freak accident run-in with Carlos Sainz, your life makes a 180. Let's just say with a certain agreement, you get your bills paid and in return stand in as Carlos' girlfriend for the press. But will you be able to handle the pressure and ensure the lines don't blur?

Pairing: Sugar Daddy!Carlos Sainz x Sugar Baby!Reader

Warnings: I've aged up Carlos, he is 33 in this fic. Smoking, smut, sexual themes, age difference, manipulation, control, slight obsession, the word 'daddy', nudity, a garbage family, family trauma, disowning, tell me if I missed any

Taglist: @httpjeonlicious, @f1lov3r, @messersandmesses, @hollie911, @oriconde08 @thehufflepuffavenger1 @fanboyluvr @thatgirlmj @whyamireadingthis @oriconde08 @depressedriches @roseseraj @skepvids @sain55wifey @distinguishedvoidlady @amatswimming @sachaa-ff @lightdragonrayne @lazybot @formula1mount @fangirl-dot-com @saintslewis @carlossainzwho @lordpercevalcharles @topguncultleader @kitixie @serp3ns0rtiae @hangmandruigandmav @therealone4r @keii134 @dark-night-sky-99 @jax-the-oregonian @hachrinnen

Word count: 3,2k

Masterlist

Part 12 ~Part 14 (coming soon)

“Elle dort profondément, la journée a été longue.” Y/N’s brother and parents both look up at me in shock. I can’t help but laugh at their expressions. We’ve been here three days and if it weren’t for her family, it would be idyllic.

We’ve gone hiking in the beautiful mountains, she’s shown me all around her hometown. She has so many memories here, a lot of them good, but when I hear the things her mother says to her, I can’t but wonder if she’s sugar coating some of it.  

“What? You didn’t think that me, a million-dollar man who travels the world every day, with a French teammate, wouldn’t speak French? Not even a little?” I can only sigh at their foolishness; I see now why my sweet girl is so easy to...shape. Luckily for her, she has me and no one would dare hurt her with me around. Her family, however, after what I’ve seen they don’t get the same lenience.  

 I sit down on the table, “Tell me, how much do you want?” If I was some old-timey villain I would take out my checkbook and write some obscure numbers with lots of zeros. Her brother furrows his brows, “How much of what?”

I chuckle, I thought at least he would be smarter, I guess not. “Money. How much do you want to never speak to Y/N ever again?” Her mother scoffs and begins rambling about just how important she is to her.  

“Look, you’re a terrible influence on my precious girl. You make her feel terrible about herself after I spent all that time convincing her otherwise. Now, we can do as normal families do and only see each other on the holidays. Even then, it’s going be exhausting for her. So, why don’t we just take a short cut? How much money for you to kick her out of your life, permanently?” Her brother looks appalled and disgusted.  

His fist goes to find my jaw, but I catch his hand before he even comes close. “Be serious, you might be a rough and tough city farm boy, but I’ve spent years of my life practising my reflexes.” I take him by his shoulders and shove him back down in his chair. “How much will it be, mom, dad? Fifty thousand, a hundred thousand, or shall we go into the millions?” Everyone goes quiet at the numbers I’m talking of.  

“See? That wasn’t so hard? Now, Cash or Card?”  

“They’re so unbelievable! You know what, no, I’m glad that they did this. She’s been nothing but a cruel bitch all my life. Now that I’m happy, she hates it.” She screams into the phone, she’s standing next to the bathroom trying to get some distance from other people.

“No, I don’t care if they’re my family, who says that to someone?” She scoffs, likely she’s talking to Jasmine and Ilsa, I know Alex and Kika would defend me.  

She’s angry, a wrinkle in a brow and I just want to make it all go away. Maybe even, I’ll have to get rid of those two friends as well. They’re not good for her either. “I know I’ve only known him for a month and a half, but it’s been the best few weeks of my life! It’s been better than anything I’ve had with that fucked family of mine. And the fact that you two can’t see that, really shows me something about you two.”  

Her footsteps are loud on the floor of the plane. She throws her phone on the seat and plops herself down in my lap. Instantly her head finds the crook of my neck and her small hand takes fists full of my shirt. She pulls me as close as possible to me and wrap my arms around her. This is where she belongs, nowhere else but in my arms.  

 Her whole-body shakes as sobs make its way through her. “No te preocupes, mi dulce niña. Estoy aquí para ti. No importan, sólo estamos tú y yo. Just you and me. You have me now, you don’t need them.” I soothe her cries, rubbing circles on her back as she mumbles on about how awful they are and how evil they’re being.

I know it’s better for her in the long run, but it hurts my heart to see her like this. Hurting. At the same time, having her cling to me as if I am her lifeline is a feeling I can’t help but savour.  

“Carlos, where are we going?” A sigh escapes me. “Singapore, for the next race. But I have to talk to you about it.” She raises her head; she has these big doe eyes that has this melting effect on me. Yet at the same time, it makes the khaki’s I’m wearing tighter than I’d like it to be. “This is going to be the hardest race of the year. For the rest of the week until at least Friday, I’m going to be very busy with very hard training.”  

I know for a fact that this is the worst time possible to leave her alone. Right now, I need to be with her every moment. She has to be with me and no one else otherwise my whole plan will be for nothing. I have to be the only one comforting her, if not she’ll think that she can rely on others. My sweet thing whines at the realisation and goes to hide her face again but I stop her before she does.  

“I know, I’m sorry. But, I really don’t want to leave mi dulce niña alone, no?” She shakes her head, wiping her tears with the same hoodie I’d given her at the very beginning. I might have blasted the AC, just to see her wear it again. I know it gives her comfort and she just looks like a doll with it on. So small and so cute, I feel as if the love is oozing from my heart.  

“Now, we have one of two options. It’s not too late, we can still turn this plane around. Get you a nice, big apartment somewhere in France.” She stops me before I can even continues.

“No, I don’t ever want to see that damn country ever again. What if I see one of them again? I’d much rather live on the streets.” I can’t help but smirk, taking her small hands into mine.  

“I thought so. What about somewhere in Madrid? Why don’t you move in with me?” Her eyes go even bigger and bites down on that puffy lower lip of hers. I adjust her to sit on my other leg, the friction between us making me rock hard. Soon after, her eyes avoid mine. Her eyebrows pull together and I can’t help but reach up and smooth the crinkle in her forehead. 

So much seems to be running through her mind, and it shouldn’t be. Things should be easy for her, look pretty and be my pet. That should be the end of it. But this world can be so heartless and make the important people in our lives hurt. “Tell me, mi niña bonita, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”  

She sighs and then gives me those big doe eyes again. This time they’re all puffy from crying, and she looks just as beautiful as the day I met her. “Daddy, I don’t want to leave your side.”

Her words are like lava through my body. I take her chin and give her a kiss on her cheek. “I know, baby, but what other option is there? Follow me everywhere I go? You’ll get bored, I’m sure.” She doesn’t hesitate and shakes her head.  

“No, no, I promise. I’ll be good.” This would be more perfect than any other option. Having her by my side for the whole world to see. “I don’t know, cosas dulce,” it’s mostly just an act, I want her to beg. “Please Daddy, please?” She jumps ever so slightly on my lap and I can’t help but holding her waist to keep her still, not knowing how much longer I can hold out. Especially when she’s like this.  

Y/N takes her small hands and hold my face. Then she places a kiss on my cheek, then the other. I take her petite hands in mind. “Oh, alright, but no whining missy.” I hold out my hand, showing how stern I am. But she wraps her fingers around mine and gives me the biggest brightest smile. “You know I can’t say no to you.”  

“Carlos?” I had just finished pretty extensive training for the race. The whole gym room’s heat is all the way up to 30 Degrees Celsius, sweat is dripping off me. My hair is wet, luckily my girl gave me one of her headbands to keep my hair out of my face.

I could see her eyeing me the whole time. I couldn’t bare the heat much long, and just had to take my shirt of. Or maybe it was tactical to get her attention, nobody will ever know.  

“Yes, mi querido?” She gets up from her seat, discarding her phone which she had been so engulfed in before. Her hips sway, she too is sweating and is wearing the smallest little shorts I’ve seen in a while. It entrances me, every time she walks, the way her legs move. The way those tiny shorts sits a way below her naval. Showing off what all the boys are missing out on.  

Y/N makes her way over to me, her fingers dancing on my shoulder. “No, mi cosa bonita, you don’t want to touch me. I’m sweaty and smelly.” She scoffs and wraps her arms around my neck. “You’re saying that like I care.” I can’t help but chuckle at her attitude. Yes, last week changed her, but so far it’s for the better. My hands find her hips, “You’ve been looking so good lately, cosas dulce.”  

Her laugh alights my whole body. “You’ve been using that one a lot lately, I’ll have to google it,” I pretend to wince at her words. “No, cosas dulce, I might get in trouble.” Now she really does laugh, throwing her head back like she does when she’s comfortable. “Why do you laugh?” She shakes her head, “You, Mister Sainz, could never get in trouble with me. You’ve been nothing but perfect.”  

I pull her closer to me, our hips touching the other. “Is that so? I’ll have to hold you up to that.” I can’t help but place kisses all over her bare neck. “Except right now.” My heart rises and I’m just glad the monitors aren’t on.

Has she found out? No, no it can’t be. If she did, she’d be a lot more upset. Or would she? Would she be happy that I did it? Relief to get rid of them and have them well cared for at the same time. She doesn’t look happy now, but she doesn’t look to upset.  

“I’m scrolling through Instagram, right, only to see an edit about you. Guess my surprise that I found out through an Instagram reel that I missed your birthday!” Oh yes, that, is that really all? I can’t help but laugh at how serious she is. “You didn’t miss it; we did celebrate it.” Her eyebrows furrow, “What do you mean?” I love the way her long hair sways to the side when she’s confused.  

“Your fashion show, after the shopping trip. It was more than enough of a present for me. Not to mention you got the sunglasses, with our initials on them.” She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“You keep calling me hardheaded, but you can be even more dense than me.” I laugh, she can be so complex. Switching from soft and needing to be held one moment, to sassy and chatty the next. I love every moment.  

A hum escapes me, “Aren’t you brave, talking to me like that, cosas dulce?” She ignores my words and carries on. “It doesn’t count as a birthday gift, if I didn’t even know it’s your birthday.” I sigh, seeing now that she’s going to be persistent on this. “That’s why I love it so much. You gave me a gift without even knowing. Call it something poetic, like our souls just knowing, or something simple. Like the kindness you give me that no one else does.”  

She pushes out her bottom lips and her eyes go all big again. “Carlos, that’s really beautiful.” She pulls me down by the neck and gives me a kiss on the cheek. Oh, how I cherish those. I remember each and every one. “But, at least allow me to make you dinner tonight.” I don’t want her going through all the trouble, or making too much of a fuss.  

“Don’t bother, cosas dulce. There’s no point in celebrating. 34 Years and I spent most of them racing, to no avail. A team that fucks me over, another year with no win and still no championship behind my name. And the rookies are getting younger and younger, and better and better. I’m sure I’ll lose my seat in a year or two and after that, it’s retirement for me.”

I didn’t mean to spill out all my thoughts just like that. But when she looks at me with those eyes, I wan’t to tell her everything.  

She cooes and pulls me tight in her arms. “Don’t talk like that. I’m sure you want our kids to see you race at least once.” What? She surprises me again and again. This is good, very good. She’s seeing what I see. Our goals are aligning. Before long I’ll have her all to myself. “You mean it?” Her smile lights up the room and my life.  

“Of course, now give me your card. Brutis, Otis and I are going grocery shopping.” That’s my girl. No longer afraid to ask. “You know where it is, cosas dulce.”  

I can hear music blasting through the hotel room, along with my girl screaming the lyrics at the top of her lungs, like always. She’s dancing and swaying to the music. Her hips move in ways that entice. But the most attractive thing about her, is that she looks as happy as can be. Pure joy radiates off her like the sun’s rays. Nothing is as beautiful as her delight and I just need to be a part of it.  

I scoop her up in my arms and place her on the first open space on the counter. She breaks out in giggles, “Aren’t I glad you’re feeling better,” she mutters between laughs as I make marks all over her neck and shoulders.

“How can I not with such a beauty in my arms?” She blushes and still giggles as my scruff tickles her. But soon she gently pushes me away, not far, by the chest. Her hands there is like fuel to my engine. Sparking my whole body to keep her here, trapped.

“You’re just in time,” she smiles jumping off and plating the food she had made. “I made Fideuà.” At just the mention, memories of my childhood come rushing back. Big Christmas family dinners, with lots of people. Kids running around, screaming with delight, as people laugh and drink lots of wine. “Ah, mi amor, now you are bringing back some good memories, no?”  

Y/N’s smile is big as she hands me the plate and pours some white wine. The first bite is perfect, the taste of fish explodes in my mouth. After it’s the texture of the pasta and the hint of Saffron.

“Wow, I must say, mi amor, this is as good as Mama’s.” This makes her smile as wide as ever. “Really, you mean it? You’re not lying?” There are some slight differences, but it’s incredibly hard to notice. I shake my head no.  

“It’s almost identical.” She blooms with joy and her cheeks are just so faintly red. “Caco sent me the recipe from your mom.” I should have known. “My, my, already in kahoots with my family.” I pull her into my lap as we both enjoy our dinners. “Speaking of, mi amor, I want you to meet my family. And I know you still feel unsure about moving in with me. But if you meet my parents and see the city...”  

Her gaze is stuck on her dinner as she just moves the shrimp around. “I’ll meet your parents, but I won’t promise you anything.” That’s good enough. That’s more than good enough.  

Xxxx  

There is a blazing heat through the paddock. Everyone is sweating and I can only imagine Carlos must be so uncomfortable in his racing suit. Boiling hot, you can see his hair is sweating but you know he won’t wear his headband in public.

It’s a maybe five minutes until they play the national anthem. Yet still through the flurry of everything and everyone he still makes his way towards where you stand with Caco in the garage.  

He hands you his drink, with the weird tube and everything, clearly given to him by Rupert. “Here, it’s very hot, remember to drink a lot of water.” You sigh and take him by the race suit.

“Carlos. Your race starts in twenty mintues, you shouldn’t be bothering yourself with me.” He clicks his tongue. “Siempre tan testarudo,” you sigh, you’ve googled it before and he says it so much that you know he’s calling you hardheaded.  

“Carlos!” The people call out his name, they could get a penatly if he misses the song. “I’m coming! Caco, asegúrate de que bebe mucha agua.” He speaks to his cousin, who agrees. He goes to leave but you grab him by his suit and pull him back. His lips fit perfectly onto yours. He pulls you close by the waist, his other hand rake deep into your hair.  

He kisses you back with such passion. Like a fire lighting between you two. Your soul finally finds rest. You’ve been wanting this for weeks and now you’re finally taking it for yourself. And you can tell by the way he holds you and pulls you closer that this is what he’s wanted. He’s been yearning for it just as much as you have.  

Finally, when there is no air left in your lungs you’re forced to break apart. “I’ll move in with you.” His whole body comes alive with joy. “Really?” His smile is wider than I’ve ever seen before. “Yes really, now go before Ferrari fine me themselves!”  

Hollywood Life 

“Y/N Y/S/N’s content quality and quality raises, could she have gotten herself a full PR team?” 

Glamour 

“Fans are going crazy as the boost in Y/N Y/S/N’s conent shows new insight on her and her boyfriend Carlos Sainz’s life that’s never been seen before.”  

Page Six 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seem to be attached at the hip.”  

Us Weekly 

“People are freaking out over Carlos Sainz’s post race interview:  ‘The first non-Red Bull win of the season. What would you like to say?’  ‘I’d like to thank my girlfriend. She’s the reason for this trophy. I know I should be thanking the team, but I know they’d much rather have Charles win this. So, this is for her.’ 

E!News 

“Carlos Sainz and his girlfriend seen celebrating in a club with Lando Norris as the DJ.” 

People Magazine 

“Fans are swooning after a video of Carlos Sainz winking to his girlfriend on the first place podium surfaces.”  

My taglist is open, just ask! :)

#Fast Pace #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz smut #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x sugar baby!reader #sugar daddy!carlos sainz #sugar daddy!carlos sainz x reader #formula one #formula 1 #f1 #f 1 x reader

[cosmic-navel-gazin]

Finished Felvidek and had a grand time!

Thought I'd do a lil list of things/moments/details I loved off the top of my head:

gave cursed coffee bean to a chicken and it mutated. Did it for science

game's got some twin peaks vibes, some monty python, a tad of hylics, along it a bunch of other ingredients, but it feels very much its own thing with its own identity

pear man and his daughters deserve the world, wish we hung out more

there's a fight with an invisible enemy, all your attacks miss because your guys can't see shit and I was laughing just imagining Pavol and Matej swinging their swords at nothing hoping to slay the forest fiend. Very Don Quixote, I love it.

the PS1 style cutscenes are sooooo beautiful I love them to pieces, they drip with style and charm. I knew I needed to give this game a go the moment I watched the trailer and was greeted by the cinematics. God I love them so much. And not just the syle but the directing itself, the way shots are framed, god...

I love the character portraits for everyone. There's so much detail and everyone feels unique/like an actual person with distinct features. From the Priest's very punchable face, to Pavol's grin to Josef's sexy ass... From main characters to NPCs to enemy sprites, I love everyone's design and colour coding (don't know if it was intentional but the purple for the cultists was neat, seemed to subtly imply early on that they were being funded by rich folk, since pruple is associated with nobility, power and wealth)

speaking of character design, shout-out to this lil guy, look at him please

Numnut the drunkard my beloved, I recruited him and less than a minute later he fell on flat ground into a nearby river (and drowns???). I reloaded a previous save to see if I could have him in my party a lil longer. I took a different path, got into a fight. "yay I get to see him in action!"- I thought. I used his one special move, called: 'good idea', and Numnut proceeds to punch his own face, dealing 90 damage (not even in the endgame did I deal such high numbers!). THE Character of all time, he drowned again after that and I'll never forget him.

BALLOON IN THE MIDDLE AGES! (possible Andrei Rublev reference? I can dream...)

just, the way things are worded:

cutting people's ears after killing them as spoils (and giving the ears to a maiden, as you do)

there's a quest where you have to cut a man's tattooed buttock to give to another guy, and it's all for nothing, you ruined a man's ass for nothing. I love it. The dialogue during this whole section had me dying.

I love that there's just this guy who lives in the castle's well. And our boy Pavol thinks it's a great idea to throw a bomb in there to make him come out.

this:

there's these lil inisghtful and mournfoul comments on the dead bodies you leave behind. Like, expressing regret at all the senseless violence and death or how cheap life is here. And I'm not sure if it's Pavol or Matej making them. It makes more sense for it to be Matej but I kinda like the idea of it being Pavol's comments, these small moments of introspection and realization in the midst of a drunken adventure. You've been engaging in all the violence while pissed drunk but then after you kill your opponents and look at their corpses... and it's like this sobering moment, before you're back at it with all the merry-making (I also like that a lot of these bodies don't disappear and just remain on screen, and you can see the carnage your guys leave behind in their quest)

the whole adventure felt to me like, this series of odd little events in a knight's life before it's passed down, told by and retold by different people, and after many generations it's been touched up and made more coherent and noble than the clusterfuck it actually was. Before it became a narrative I guess is what I mean

it can get a bit wordy and hard to follow but I really like the old timey way the dialogue is written and its dry sense of humour

there's these little subversions of gaming tropes that I found really fun too! Like as soon as Pavol's wife and your falling out with her is introduced you may expect a reconciliation between the two, or a moment where you have to save her and prove your worth and love to her to win her heart. As you would expect from a story with a knight and a damsel. But no she hates his guts lmao tries to murder him too! (tho I do think Pavol took her in that balloon ride at the end). There's also the fact that I am not allowed to play minigames! Josef wants to play tabletop games but your character always replies no. No minigames for you son! And like, this feels especially catered to me as someone who, more often than not, will dread whenever a game will introduce some sort of card game or the like. I was so happy that wasn't forced on me for once! Couldn't believe it. Kinda felt bad for Josef tho, I'm sorry Pavol doesn't wanna play Pexeso wth you.

the battle animations! I'm particularly fond of the eating porridge one, or the chugging down a bucket of sour cream, and the petard

the little *slaps face* animation

Pavol and Matej as a duo and the whole tavern scene with the two exchanging clothes

the lil moments of humanity where Pavol talks about his broken life and sense of self

the rare moments when Pavol stops grinning

it goes without saying but the art is absolutely gorgeous. Its nostalgic monochrome melancholy speaks to me on a deep spiritual level. Inject it directly into my bone marrow please. Shout-out also to the ost, it fucks and has tons of bangers. The Hrad track, the one that plays on Josef's castle... god... love at first listen, and have been listening nonstop for the last few days now while going on walks.

#went in almost completely blind and had a great time. really nice surprise #Felvidek #my ramblings #videogames

[hotxcheeto]

Hi!

I was wondering if you could write something with Ellie x fem reader where reader is like an actress/film director who's passionate about just filmmaking and acting in general, maybe her and Ellie met because they're jobs crossed over or maybe Ellie was a fan of reader or something.

━ 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐏𝐎𝐑𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐓

𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜(𝙨) - Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 - Cursing, fluff, mention of crappy dating??,

𝙥𝙧𝙤𝙤𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 ? - Yeah/Nope/a lil

𝙖𝙪𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙧'𝙨 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 - so sorry this took months, I'm so behind but I was going through some shit lmao, thank you for the rq!! <3 ALSO making these banners here and there cause I'm running out of good gifs and got a lot of good screen shots and photos.. :)

REBLOGS ARE GREATLY APPRECIATED AND NOTICED!

"Don't you understand, she was my daughter too.."

You muttered your lines to yourself as the artist did your makeup, brushing over your eyes as she captured an old timey look. Using so many reference photos that the entire table was filled when you walked in, giving you both something to talk about at first.

That was until a comfortable silence filled over, Mia having become a close friend of yours on set. You felt excited every morning to come and get done up for whatever scene you had as the duchess you played. Knowing she'd capture every dated detail on your skin.

But today your mind was filled with other thoughts than just the make-up. Stressed to all hell for the next few days, knowing you and the director needed to perfect both your acting and the shots that would make your performance come together.

And that was just it, you needed to be perfect.

"Nervous?" Mia asked with a smile, taking a hint from your shaky, silent nature, backing up to grab a different brush.

"Extremely." You responded with a light laugh, looking at yourself in the mirror. "You got this, you're being nominated for, not one, but multiple of the most prestigious awards in media. If anyone can pull off such an important scene, it's you. Especially with how pretty I'm making you everyday."

You nodded with a small smile, but still felt like you could pass out at any moment in time. Clutching onto the papers like they'd disappear while letting out a shaky sigh.

"I know, but-" "But you still act like you've never been in front of the camera every time they're ready for a big shellshock to be filmed. Mind you, the scenes start filming tomorrow, not today."

You winced at the very clear truth to her words.

"Too loud Mia." She laughed, continuing on with your makeup, ignoring the door opening to reveal your favorite stage manager, smiling too brightly for the fact that it was six in the morning.

"The painter is ready when you are, ready to be photographed Y/n?" You sighed in response, looking at the clock as Mia applied an old looking lip color to your mouth. "I'm ready to look like a renaissance portrait, that's for sure."

"She said she might need you for the sketch too, just to make sure she's got the best outline of you that matches, but other than that, you should be done quick and have some free time before shooting starts."

The stage manager spoke, looking down at the tablet in her hand while speaking. Mia pulling away to look at your face, turning your head lightly with her fingers.

"What's her name?" "Don't remember, all I know is that she's good and the directors favorite prop guy really likes her." Mia took the cover off your costume, allowing you to stand up in your long, olden style dress.

"Ready to be renaissanced?" You nodded, leaving the makeup trailer and telling Mia you'd see her later. Walking off towards one of the nearby buildings labeled for set creation and prop design.

The place was decked out too, even more so since the last time you'd come inside. Pieces from every time period hanging about complimented by posters on every wall. Familiar drawings and items from some scenes of your favorite shows displayed out to remind everyone that these people had made them.

They liked showing off their stuff where they could, most of the workspaces and offices a bit more boring depending on who you were talking to. But other than that, the entire building was the best on set.

"Miss Y/l/n?" An assistance appeared behind you, wearing pajama-like clothing making you wish you were them just because of how early it was. "That's me." "Right in here." They led you to an office room, though there was only a desk covered in papers and the walls lined with movie and TV art and décor.

The rest of the room had easels and different sized canvases against the walls and laid on the ground, tarps on the floor with paint covering every corner. Jars of different colors and paint brushes laid about on different carts and shelves.

"She had to leave but she should be back in a moment. She said though, you can sit there while you wait."

The person pointed at a stood that was set up across from an empty easel, a very dim light pointed at the stool.

"Alright, thank you." They nodded and left, closing the door behind them leaving you alone in the silence to admire the painters area.

Spaceships hung from the ceilings in one of the corners, little figurines and action figures on the walls and done up to look cool instead of just sitting there. But some were still in boxes making you wonder if she collected them or would eventually sell them. Judging by the room though, collector for sure.

You sat down with a racing mind, messing with your fingers while you waited. You liked the warmth the office brought, it was like a child's daydream and it made you smile.

This person definitely had an eye for the arts.

"Shit, I'm so sorry." A girl then stumbled in through the door, her black tank top covered in colors that were probably not there when she bought it, as well as her blue jeans and shoes.

Her grown out mullet pushed back from her face that only showed stress. Arms lined with paint and markings, some of it even looked like dry clay making you wonder what kind of things she'd made besides paintings.

"Fuck, I shouldn't cuss. Sorry." You laughed, finally catching her attention but not her eyes.

"I don't mind, everything alright?" "You know, it's early, people are tired, you might accidentally drop something. But a perfectly good fucking vase someone spent hours making should not be one of them."

You clenched your teeth, feeling familiar with her frustration while watching her grab a few things from her desk drawers.

"Yeah, I agree. But I've also broken bones this early in the morning, so, I should not be talking." The girl laughed, rummaging for something and then grabbing an expensive looking camera and opening the bottom of it.

"How long you been doing this?" "Uh, couple years now. Fresh out of college." She stood up turning around but not looking up. "Something that I liked besides playing video games." You giggled. "Same. But with acting and you know, the other stuff."

Finally she looked up, meeting your eyes and then seeing your smile. The morning sunrise reflecting off your irises and skin, making you glow more than you already were before the window had assisted you.

She found herself at a loss for words as you continued to talk.

"I'm Y/n, by the way, but I mean by slight chance you don't already know that. I do hate saying that though, makes me seem like I've got a big head."

The girl didn't respond for a moment, suddenly nodding and humming.

"Yeah, no, I know you. Dina- my friend- loves you. Big 'Walking Dead' fan." Ellie felt stupid in the moment, thinking you probably thought she was an idiot especially when you chuckled, covering your mouth lightly with your hand.

"Aw, that's sweet. Tell her I love her too." You winked, Ellie still struggling to speak. "Yeah, for sure. I'm Ellie by the way! Probably should've said that when I walked in."

Ellie whispered a few curses under her breath while switching the settings on the light, trying to avoid your stare that was still on her.

"Heard you were one of the best at creating stuff like this." "Really?" She choked, making you laugh with a shake of your head. "Yep. Inclined to agree, you seem cool and cool people are talented. Even if they don't know it."

"Thanks, just doing my job."

Face palm, Ellie, c'mon get it together.

"So, anything you need me to do?" Ellie stood back, hanging the camera strap around her neck while stepping in front of you.

"Just, turn this way." Her hands brushed your shoulders while you positioned yourself, noticing how close she was when she knelt down. Adjusting your limbs to look as perfect as possible.

"Chin up, like this." Her finger went under your chin making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You weren't going to lie to yourself, she was attractive, very attractive. Somewhere inside your head hoping to all that would listen that this wouldn't be your last time seeing her.

"Just like that." She muttered, making the nervousness you felt in the tense room even worse than it already was. "Better?" "Yeah, perfect."

Ellie then adjusted your outfit and look, backing up to make sure it was perfect.

To her, with the lighting, you already looked like a portrait.

"How do I look?" You questioned, eye flickering up to meet her green ones. "Good.. good, yeah." "I mean in terms of beauty on this Monday morning, c'mon. Am I just, 'good'?" Ellie froze up, grabbing her camera to distract herself.

"I guess you're pretty."

"Wow, I'm so getting your ass fired."

You both laughed, Ellie getting down to the level she wanted for the picture while aiming the camera at you.

"Just stay still." You heard the camera click a few times, wondering to yourself if she ever got sick of looking at some ones face for hours on end. She then stood up, looking down at the photos.

"Perfect, stay like that though, just wanna make sure I get the-"

"Outline?" "Yeah."

"Ever get sick of staring at the same picture?"

"Not if it's you."

It just slipped out, Ellie panicking as soon as it happened. Her face burning red while she grabbed the canvas she had set aside for your portrait. Swallowing hard when you breathed a laugh.

"I knew you thought I was more than just 'good'. Was that an attempt at a flirt? Because if so, it definitely landed."

"Good to know I've still got it." She picked up her pencil, smirking at you when you giggled, trying your best to keep your pose.

"What's it like being you?" Ellie then asked, beginning to draw the shape of your head. "Eh, not all it's chalked up to be. Scary sometimes. Awesome most times. Lonely.."

"All the time?" You shook your head slightly making your earrings move. "No. Dating fucking sucks though."

Ellie snorted, quickly following up with a quiet 'sorry' making you grin.

"Especially when you like girls, it's an even smaller pool of fish, maybe like a puddle." "Puddle o' fish?" "My favorite dating app."

You could hear the pencil against the white surface, going both quickly and precisely, her eyes moving to you and back to the work in progress.

You shifted just barely, eyes scanning over her desk once again, admiring her green rolling chair. It looked kind of like yours at home, the color just different, but the design all the same.

"I get it though, sometimes I even wonder if the light is too bright." You laughed to yourself, Ellie even chuckling at your words.

"I just don't like paparazzi because I know I look like shit on camera." Ellie then said, making you snort and barely cover your mouth before returning to your pose.

"I beg to differ." "Trust me, you wouldn't differ if you seen some of the photos my friends have." You giggled again, hearing her pencil moving slower now against the the sketch.

"They're idiots though." "Just like mine, my dorks are a hivemind of morons." Ellie nodded in agreeance, smiling. "What's it like being you?" You questioned, Ellie erasing something from the sketch.

"Eh, probably a slower life compared to yours. I get a lot of freedom. Get to do shit on my own time. I like making stuff, art." Looking around the room you realized a lot of the décor was her own, by her hand.

"I wish I could do that." "You do, in a different way." "How poetic, Ellie."

She wished she could hear her name pass your lips again and again. Something about the way you said it, like a sickeningly sweet hum.

Your eyes danced to the clock, noticing the time was becoming less and less, the sinking feeling of your departure creeping up your back.

"You gotta go?" Ellie asked, noticing your stare on the two hands pointing at their respective digits. "Not right this minute, but soon." "Might need you again."

No she wouldn't, not actually. But seeing you again was definitely on her bucket list.

"If I'm not on set, I'm available. Usually. For you though, I'll make time." You joked, copying her flirtatious nature from before. "Fuck me." She whispered with reddened cheeks, unheard by you, or at least she hoped.

"Yeah, I'll make sure to hunt you down." "Is that a promise?" Ellie felt like a school girl talking to her first crush, hoping the canvas hid her face well enough. "You bet it is."

You glanced at the time again, more minutes having passed.

"Times up Michelangelo. The camera needs me." Ellie felt a pang of disappointment, finishing up the near perfect outline of your upper half. "Alright, alright. I'm done with you, for now."

"Make me look pretty, 'kay?" "Can't fix what's not broken."

You picked up the bottom of your dress with a grin, standing up from the stool. Dusting off the long skirt as if anything had gotten on it.

"See you later?" You practically asked, walking towards the door with little happiness. "Door's always open."

"I'll take that as a yes, I'll be back to check on the painting."

"I'm counting on it." "Better be."

A/n: Argh ( in pirate )

#ellie the last of us #ellie #ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #the last of us #the last of us part 2 #tlou 2 #tlou #tlou fanfiction #tlou fic #tlou x reader #tlou x you

[keekeenuggets]

RadioStatic Week, Day 2: Vintage / Modern

We were writing this for other reasons, but then realized it happens to fit the prompt for today, so... figured we'd post it. We probably don't have the energy to participate in a lot of the days for this week, but we're excited to see more of what other people create, regardless!

Summary: A year into Alastor's disappearance, Vox makes one last attempt to reach out to the demon -- he hosts a radio broadcast.

Title: Old-Timey

Day three hundred and sixty-five since the last time Vox had heard from Alastor. Not that he'd been keeping track. He only had the date memorized, of course, and he just happened to look at the calendar and notice how many days had passed. Just like he did every day. It was part of his daily routine, not that he would ever admit it. It just so happened that he had a calendar posted on his door, which he looked at every day before exiting his room. Of course he'd look, because how would he not look at before leaving his room? It only made sense.

But as much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started actually growing concerned for the old prick. An extermination had passed, not too long ago, and Vox wanted some kind of confirmation that Alastor was still alive. Even more, he wanted to know that his old friend cared, but he knew that was asking too much.

Still, he had an idea. He had the right equipment for it. Though radio broadcasts weren't his thing, what if...? It was a long shot, but if anything would catch the Radio Demon's attention enough to get a response, it would be Vox, the modern television overlord, going live on the air an old-timey piece of junk.

He wouldn't abandon his TV equipment, of course. He'd simply both avenues at once. Talk about the Radio Demon's mysterious disappearance, perhaps. It was as interesting as any news segment that bitch Katie Killjoy could come up with. Most of her shit consisted of boring, desperate grabs for views. At least Voxtek could come up with things that garnered actual interest. The hypnotism didn't hurt, either.

"... And three. Two. One. Going live!"

Travis, the studio director who bounced back and forth between shooting for Vox's segments and Val's pornography happened to be in charge of cameras, that day. He was mediocre at the radio tech, but they managed. And with the push of a few buttons, he saw the green light that let him know he was live not only on the television, but also on the more traditional radio waves. The perfect venue for grabbing the attention of all citizens of hell. Not only the most up-to-date ones.

"Annnnd good day, fine sinners!" Vox grinned into the camera, his hands folded in front of him. "Today's broadcast is brought to you by Voxtek. Trust *us* with your news." His eye sent out waves of persuasion, for only a moment. Today, he was all about the audio. And no one, not even -- or especially not -- Alastor, would be able to hear the hypnotic frequencies. He had to rely on his charm and showmanship, today. But that was not a problem.

He cleared his throat. "I come live to you in a rather unique format. Yes, this time, I'm broadcasting over the radio, too. A little bit of traditional medium for old time's sake, right? It doesn't hurt, every once in a while." He laughed, to himself. Then he continued. "Now, we've got a special topic this morning, and it's the reason I've decided on this dual transmission. As some of you may be aware, the Radio Demon hasn't been around in quite some time." Speaking the words gave them a truth he didn't want to think about, but Vox kept the grin plastered on his face like his life depended on it. He refused to slip up. "In fact, it's been an entire year since his last reported sighting!" Not that he had checked every social media platform in case of any mention of the Radio Demon.

Except that was exactly what he'd done. And as the overlord of technology, he'd been able to keep an eye on cameras and through screens all throughout the Pentagram. Sure enough, Alastor was nowhere to be seen. That is, nowhere that modern technology had any reach, at the very least. He still didn't want to believe him to be dead, but the fact Alastor would work so hard to avoid any detection or communication with Vox was also infuriating. As if had never meant anything to the other overlord. Maybe he hadn't. But he didn't need to think about that.

"Now, there has been some speculation on where he's been. Having a nice vacay off-the-grid, entrapped by another, more powerful, overlord..." The last one didn't seem likely -- or at least had been a possibility Vox feared the thought of. The Radio Demon was already quite powerful to begin with. "Some even speculate that the demon might not be among us any longer at all!" That would be much worse, of course.

"But hey, maybe there are some upsides to this change of pace, am I right?" He said this only because he knew that if anything would get a response from Alastor, it would be demeaning his choice form of expression. "I mean, radio is so outdated. It's about time we give Hell a more modern entertainment makeover. And sure, as I said, radio can be fun every once in a while, but who wants to rely on only barely audible sources of pleasure? With no visuals?" He laughed. "Please. That's so old school. And we've got much better means of enjoyment, nowadays."

He paused. Half-expecting the Radio Demon to interrupt his broadcast. Such a thing certainly wasn't unheard of before. Alastor enjoyed displacing mediocre radio hosts. And though Vox was confident in his ability to entertain, he knew that his old thought of himself as superior. Maybe he was right; maybe he was wrong. Regardless, it was his opinion that made the difference, and yet, Vox's program remained uninterrupted. It was almost disappointing.

So Vox continued, sharing some of the theories and speculation he'd found online about Alastor's disappearance. All found while searching for any signs of him being spotted anywhere. Stories were all kept anonymous, and there were a few ideas he made up himself. But no one needed to know that. The viewers, the listeners, they were just there for the entertainment and fun. Most of them didn't care about what was genuine or not, so long as it was enthralling, and technically, Vox wasn't lying about anything -- only pretending that the speculator of some of the rumors wasn't himself.

The segment Vox had planned out was only about an hour long, and as the top of the hour began rapidly approaching, he started to feel more restless and agitated. It became clear that Alastor really wasn't listening. Or at least, wasn't planning on showing it. Responding at all. What an ass. A year of absolutely no contact after an argument-induced battle, no way of even knowing how he could possibly contact his old friend, and all after Vox had dared ask Alastor to join him in expanding the medium he worked with? As if it was such a major offense. At least Valentino and Velvette supported him, even though they didn't seem to understand, either. They didn't understand the joy of broadcasting, not in the same way Alastor had. They'd had that in common, and he still had been too stubborn to stray from radio, even a little bit.

"Well, that about wraps it up for this broadcast," Vox chimed as happily as he could muster. The viewers, he knew, didn't care whether the grin was genuine or forced, and most didn't know it was the latter anyway. "We'll be back later for some more daily news. In the meantime, I leave you with this ad from our sponsor. And don't forget: You can always trust us, Voxtek, with your entertainment."

As soon as the cameras shut off, Vox's smile faltered, but he plastered it right back on when Travis came up to him.

"We're done here, right?" He asked. "'Cause Val's expecting me down at his studio for a shoot. The rest of the camera crew can handle the afternoon broadcast for you."

"Yeah, yeah," Vox waved him off. "Go help Val. He won't let me hear the end of it, if I keep you." It was good news, though, if Valentino was going to be busy with a shoot. He knew Velvette had her work, too. And he just wanted to be alone.

He retreated to his room and sat surrounded by his screens, all connected to cameras and tech across town. City-wide surveillance. Vox flipped through different feeds absent-mindedly. As always, in the back of his mind, he was searching for one specific person. But he should have known, by now, it was pointless.

What if something really had happened to him? Vox shook his head, sighing at the thought. No. Alastor was too tough for that. He was the Radio Demon. No, it seemed more plausible that he was simply avoiding Vox. Avoiding all detection. How, Vox wasn't sure. Strange that he could disappear so effectively. But, of course, if anyone could do such a thing, it would be Alastor. For whatever his reasons, Alastor knew how to remove himself from the public view if he needed to. That was their thing, of course, media and coverage of different sorts. Vox figured he, too, could avoid being detected, if he'd wished.

Vox sighed. It was time to just admit what he didn't want to before. Whatever he had with Alastor before, if he ever had anything at all -- it was over. Truly. By this point? Any hope of having it back was futile.

The aching became rage, like a protective shield. Rage, bitterness, was easier to handle. It meant he wasn't being hurt, but that he was the one in control. He was the one that would do the hurting, if it ever came down to it. If he ever saw Alastor again. That had been one thing he'd learned from the Radio Demon. Always find a way to keep the upper hand.

With his control over technology, now, he would. And someday, Alastor would see what he left behind.

#hazbin hotel #radiostatic #staticradio #staticlovetune #vox #alastor #radiostatic week 2024 #this will be edited and posted on AO3 eventually but have it here for now #canon is a little confusing about how much of Vox's broadcast was camera crew and how much was his editing(???) but eh #hopefully this works well enough #poor pathetic TV pining #posts by 📲 #kinda #sysmate wrote this but I'm representing him #since he doesn't use this blog #fanfiction #it just so happens that this kinda fits both prompts I think #this is one-sided-ish #as in it's entirely ambiguous #except that Vox has feelings

[anothersoulless]

Seven Minutes in Hell {Breakup! Eustass Kid X Reader}

You have been treated badly one too many times. It's time to leave your Boyfriend behind

Shit hasn't been well, this song slaps and let's get this shit show started!

Ofc kinda angsty(not really though?, but on god Reader deserves freedom (Dw, my pookie will get another actual One shot soon lmao, hopefully as tasteful as the song but lbfr i'll probabky flump it again)

Anywho, let's get it started

Admittedly, your relationship with Kid was everything but healthy. He was loud and didn't really care about if you had to stand up in the morning, police called to your place more than once for loud screaming and arguments. There were his guy friends, his crew, that were obviously higher on his priority list than you — far higher. The amount of times he nearly went to jail for them, you'd thought Kid would have learned his lesson, but alas he never did. And you? Well, you seemed to only be there for one thing — stress relief. If that meant fucking you and screaming at you, something even throwing random stuff at you he found in the house, well, that was for him to decide on the whim.

If at least the sex was good, but even that was all about him. It was like the world revolved around him and only him and everyone had to do what he wanted. Well, too bad for him, you had enough. Years of misery finally snapping to a close, you decided he wasn't worth your time anymore. You were done with being treated like an old-timey housewife of the Middle Ages. You had packed your things while he was out with his friends again, ready to leave. There was no way in hell however you would want to miss his face when you confronted him, oh how you imagined he'd look. Would he be upset, would he scream at you again, only proving your point?

You put your last bag in your best friend's trunk, she had been kind enough to lend you a hand in her endeavor. If it went how she wanted to, you probably wouldn't even have started this relationship, but now she just sat ready to drive, the box of glitter she brought still sitting on the back seat as she gave you a last encouraging nod to take it. You didn't and went back inside, letting her know it could get late — she waited, of course. And you went back inside.

Kid was expecting food on the stove when he came back home, he didn't even notice your shoes missing on the shoe rack out front when he unlocked the apartment, but he did notice one thing — all that decor he had absolutely despised missing. He even smiled triumphantly before he realised the missing smell of fresh food. Kicking off his boots haphazardly, he stopped into the kitchen and saw you on your phone, sitting on a chair at the table. "Yo, what's with food?" "I won't make you food anymore."

There was a silence, a calm before the storm. You put your phone in your back pocket before he could fly off the handle, just in time. "What the fuck?! You're not even gonna make me food now, what are you even worth?!" You let him have his little temper tantrum, before you sighed. "We're done, Kid. I'm worth far more than you, and by all means... I really hope you never get another partner in your life, my god" He seethed, his face contorting in anger, but he didn't say anything, couldn't say anything, words missing on his tongue and voice dying in his throat. "Oh, and uh, I'm moving out. Like today." You shrugged.

All the tension in him seemed to snap at once, as he lunged forwards, grabbing you by your throat and pushing you against the wall. His metal fingers pressing down hard, actually restricting your airway. "You fucking bitch have the audacity to come in here, live here for years, be absolutely useless to me, then up and leave? No, no, you don't get to do that!" "Well, I was good enough to make you food. And to get you off, apparently. Also, you hurt me in any way, I won't hesitate to call the police, I only need to press one button right now." He huffed, he really seemed like a bull trapped in a ring with gladiators, just that this was no real fight. "Don't fucking pretend like you didn't like this shit, wasn't that part of the reason you even came here in the first place?"

"It was, at the start" You smiled. "You just kind of… Put me through hell, not gonna lie. Like, you've gotten so bad in bed, it's actively hell. Like I'm just there, and honestly, no. Not even a thank you, no — just no." His hands clenched into fists, and for a second you thought you had crossed the line, as he raised his hand, before he turned, smashing the table with his prosthetic. "Get out you fucking whore! Get out, or I swear I'll rip your fucking throat out!" You didn't need to get asked twice, running to your friends' car, who looked at you worriedly, but you smiled as you hoped into the passenger seat. "Drive, Drive!" And without a word, she started the car as you began laughing. Finally, you were free again.

#oneshot #spotify #one piece #eustass kid #eustass kid x reader #one piece characters #one piece x reader #Spotify

[attorneytrash]

I really really really love Such Terrible Tales, it's one of my favorite fanfictions of all time!! I was wondering how you write a "period piece" so well with all the terminology, dialog, and flow of the work feeling so reminiscent of 19th-20th century novels! (It still has its roots and humor in the modern era, but you get me.) Do you do a lot of research and editing before you publish a chapter or does it just flow naturally for you? Did you read a ton of Jane Austen and bodice rippers before penning the Jackdaw? Have you you plotted out Such Terrible Tales in full before writing or do you just fly by the seat of your pants (or do you do a mix of both)? Sorry if this is nosy, I'm just so curious and invested and I'm looking into writing fanfictions that captures a similar feeling myself ^q^

OH MY GOSH HIIIIIIII wait i've never gotten one of these before. this is so exciting. fair warning my advice will be terrible but you did ask

first off thank you I can't believe you think i write a good "period piece" (what is the period? we just don't know) because I feel like i'm so slapdash about it and it's all Vibes. ANYWAY I'M REALLY REALLY HAPPY YOU'RE ENJOYING THE FIC. TRULY

genuinely one of the reasons I started writing STT in the first place was because I was on a kick of reading stuff that takes place in that general era (again, what the actual era is remains unclear). A few people have pointed out the Jane Austen of it all, and I think when I was in the middle of reading an austen novel you can tell because of the language in those chapters. basically, I don't know if this is true of everyone, but I tend to lean into the style of whatever I'm reading at the time. I also think it helps, if you like audiobooks, to listen to audiobooks in the style you want to write in! Especially with older works, audiobook narrators are really good at getting the flow and cadence of the language across, and it helps get your mind flowing along and sort of "hooked in" to that style. or it does for me at least!

ALSO I do jot down a lot of notes, specifically little turns of phrase that I like! so for example, I wrote down to use the word "directly" meaning "right now" (as in, "I will read you the letter directly") and "presently" meaning "in a short time" (as in, "we're expecting his arrival presently"). Little things like moving words around too ("what have you there" rather than "what do you have there" etc) give it that sort of feel. if that makes sense. i just take a lot of notes

One tip I will give is that a little really goes a long way with old-timey language. I notice it less when listening to the audiobooks, but in older books the sentences are LOOOOOOOONG which is what makes them so hard to parse sometimes. And often in romance novels that take place in victorian or regency era they'll overdo the language to the point that it makes you roll your eyes (though I'm sure I've done that once or twice too)

ANYWAY I'M PRATTLING ON SORRY as for the plotting. I have a bare-bones skeleton that has all the larger plot twists in it, so I can make sure to foreshadow things. That being said, I think part of what's fun about a serial fic is coming up with things as you go while still having to stay true to what you've already written. One thing I will say is that it's EXTREMELY helpful to keep a couple cheat sheets: one is a timeline, which keeps track of all the events that happened in the past, when they happened, etc. The other is a list keeping track of what every character knows and when they find it out. It's saved me many times when I've forgotten who's aware of what secrets etc.

YOU'RE NOT NOSY AT ALL and in fact I'm seriously thrilled to get an ask like this bc i could talk about writing for days. I hope your fic goes well and that you have fun with it ^^

[lunaralight09]

May I have an SFW Alphabet for SCP-073/Cain? Please and thank you for considering my request!

& bwalker0399(Wattpad) requested: DO LIKE A SCP 073 (Cain) alphabet head cannons please!💗(W)

No problem! I'm always glad to take request . Since I don't really know what to write :') But keep  in mind that my imaginations is dead-

And I'll probably rewrite old Alphabets(and ofc it will take a looong time

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

Pretty affectionate . There isn't many people who show him affection . So he'll be pretty clingy in the beginning of your relationship . Even if you both are best/close friends(But won't be too clingy if that makes you uncomfortable) And his way of showing his affection is quality time and well ... Physical touch ,if that's okay if not then words of affirmation . 

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

Well he's a nice friend , he'll listen if you rant or just felling down and want to talk about it . And he's good at keeping secrets(not really , but he'll try to keep a secret that you told him , especially if it's really serious . Not that he would tell someone if that is not serious .)

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

At first he'll be unused to cuddles and as I said will be clingy . After a while , he will be really happy to cuddle with you and will be a little less clingy . And Cain don't have a fav position , just happy to be near you . 

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Yeah , he would want to live together with you . But, it will be a problem if you got something made of plants/plant related things/plants or flowers in your home . 

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

It's a little bit hard for him ... Okay , no it's hard for him . He's scared that you'll be really mad at him just like his brother . And he don't want to hurt your feelings too . But maybe some day , he will thinks that Foundation won't really appreciate that you are dating an anomaly , maybe they'll hurt you , so he thinks that it will be safer for you .

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

I mean . He's a little old timey and would want to marry you ... If that was possible . But he still has some thoughts about both of you getting married and maybe start a family . And he knows that the chances are low. 

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

He's pretty gentle , both physically and emotionally . He knows that if he fucks up he'll hurt your feelings or you try to attack him and you'll get hurt . So he won't be too pushy about some things and etc. 

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Yup . Ofc he do . And I don't need to say more I already wrote about cuddles/hugs .

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

When he's just admiring you(where there isn't many people) and they he'll say that he loves you . Then realizes and panics a little .

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

He's not the type to get jealous of people you talk to . But if he sees someone flirt with you/cat call you or something then his protection mode goes up and will warn this person that you're taken and wouldn't want puch them or anything . But if they get aggressive and try to attack him . Well you know what would happen .

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Gentle and loving . That's one of the ways he show his affection 

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

He can tolerate them and thinks that some of them are cute(but doesn't like then they scream . Like all/most of us). But because he didn't see and interact them for a while. 

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

I mean if you have a chance to sleep with him at least for one day . Then he will want to cuddle for a little longer . You can only get out if you convince him . And it's not that hard . He can help you with something from your routine(if you have one). No really he'll gladly help you , just ask .

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Once again, if you have a chance to spend the night . Then ... Well . He's touch starved , so cuddle with him . Also he can listen to your rambling about problems/passion or just your talking . He's a good listener.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Even though he's affectionate with you he'll still need some time to open about all things , well secrets . He'll tell you them once he know that you're truth worthy.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Not really . He's usually irritated or just nervous, not angry . It takes some time to anger him . But if he is , he'll try to get away from people . Mostly keep the distance from you , he doesn't trust himself when angry . Since he still feel guilty about that ... Incident.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

Oh for sure . His memory is really good . So he'll bring some of your favorite things in conversation with you . And will try to study more about those(if he can convenience scientists) . Well ,he can forget about few details, but hey . He's trying his best.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

The confession. And when you hugged him for the first time . Just a simple wholesome memories.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

He's not overprotective, but not under protective((?)idk if it is a word) . But will be protective of you when his brother's near and will try to make it look like he's protecting just another person. 'Cus he doesn't want Able to know that he's with you or he'll try to kill you as a revenge about his own death. Usually he'll stand in front or close to you if person is trying to attack you physically, if they try to be mean to you , he'll take you away from them . Maybe he'll insult them back if they're too annoying . Even if he can't get hurt physically(he still can feel pain even if he reverse the attack), he still can get upset . So he'll be really grateful if you stand up for him .

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

Ohhhh . It's a really tricky one . He would want to be able to put more effort than he already can . But he's in Foundation, so it's not much . He's still trying.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

He has 3 of them . Fidgeting(Foot tapping to be exact.), day dreaming and pen/pencil chewing(if you give him one).

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

Eh . Not so concerned. He's usually don't care . Well even if someone points it out , he'll still don't care . Already got used to how he looks .

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Yeah . He'll feel like his half is missing. But he is used to being alone. But if you're together for a long time . He'll feel like literally his half of soul is straight up missing. 

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

If he ever tried to bring you flowers, they'll be fake . You know those fake ones that looks pretty real, until you look closely and/or touch them . Yeah , pretty much he would do that . And hey! At least they won't rot after a day/few days, so that's a plus . However if you prefer plants over/like them more than flowers, he'll try to convince(once again) some scientist to get him some(That are fake ofc). Many convincing . Like a lot

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

Rude, noisy people . And that are narcistic . And who likes kids romantically .

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Honestly he'll just go to sleep whenever he feel really tired . And the time he goes to sleep always change .

#scp #scp foundation #scp 073 #scp x reader #scp 073 x reader #reader #sfw alphabet #sfw

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Paved With Good Intentions

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Relationships: Very background Charlie/Vaggie. 99% Charlie and Alastor interactions (with added Razzle and Dazzle)

Word Count: 3,863

Summary:

“Why... hmm. Okay, real quick: what’s an old-timey way of saying someone is full of shit?”

Charlie blinked up at him innocently, probably overdoing it a tad, but after a week of hearing him disparage her dreams as “wacky nonsense” she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not too much, anyway.

“Why, I’d say the sod is full of hot air! A far classier image than the one you’ve just conjured.”

“Then you’re full of hot air, Alastor.” Charlie grinned.

Or: Charlie wants everyone to know that she didn't invite the Radio Demon into her home without precautions.

A/N: First Hazbin fic! Jfc Alastor may be one of the hardest characters I've ever written for. Nailing his voice is gonna take a while.

Fic also below the cut if you prefer to read here 👍

Many in Hell (okay, most in Hell) were under the impression that their Princess was a delusional simpleton, unable to understand something as straightforward as how her own domain worked. Her little interview hadn't helped matters, even if it did reassure them that she could at least throw a decent punch. Really, Charlie only cared about her reputation in as much as it might attract new patrons to the hotel. She didn't need her people to love her, she just needed them to be safe .

(She'd said that to Vaggie once who promptly broke into a choking laugh. “Charlie. You need everyone to love you. All the time . You're just lucky you're really fucking good at it.”)

If strangers cursed her out on the street, that was fine. If her first soon-to-be-redeemed soul thought this was a hilarious fuck-up with only free board making it palatable, that was also fine. If her own father laughed awkwardly at the mere idea of her success that was fine because Charlie could see the good underneath their caustic words; the fear and vulnerability buried beneath their dismissal. Criticism rolled off her back like magma on a fire-duck and if shouldering the disdain of her community was the price of seeing them saved, Charlie would gladly pay it.

...Although, she did wish her closest companions had a little more faith in her. Not about the hotel necessarily, but just that she had a functioning brain she put to use.

“Your... goats?” Alastor said, tipping his head to narrow eyes at them.

“Goat-dragons,” Charlie corrected, not sparing him a glance. “Mom made them when I was younger, to act as my bodyguards when she and Dad weren't around. You would not beeeliiieve how many assassination attempts there were when I was a kid. Dad even dyed my hair once to try and give me a low profile and that was—well! You don't need to see those pictures. The point is that I didn't just let you in all willy-nilly, heedless of my own safety, or whatever it is Vaggie's been saying. If you'd meant any real harm they would have torn you to shreds.”

Charlie was in the process of re-styling the seating area for a slumber party that night. Which throw pillow better conveyed emotional safety to share one's most intimate secrets past 3:00am? Blue or yellow? Pursing her lips, she bounced from foot-to-foot a couple times before chucking both against the growing mound. After a good fluffing she nodded. Both. Both was good.

When she turned, Alastor was staring.

He'd only been at the hotel about a week but Charlie had noticed that he did that a lot. It wasn't just the fixed smile that lent weight to his gaze; he didn't blink . Leaning against Husk's bar with that microphone tucked under one arm, Alastor looked so at ease that Charlie knew it was all an act—the real Alastor, tentacled and laughing maniacally, simmered just beneath the surface. She'd have felt threatened by it if not for the fact that, well, Razzle and Dazzle were here.

Charlie shot them a quick smile. They'd piled on the carpet together, a mess of limbs and horns. Snores and the occasional 'meep' emerged to fill the silence.

“Well now, stop the presses! Our little lady is just full of surprises.” Alastor's grin stretched even further, seeming to creak along its edge. His hands connected in a shattering clap. “We haven't known each other very long, my dear, so I'm sure this is just a misunderstanding—entirely forgivable, I assure you—but I thought you just implied that these lazy, miniature vermin are capable of besting me?”

“ Don't talk about them like that! ”

The words snapped out of Charlie before she could consider reigning them in. She even saw a little smoke wafting upwards, a sure sign that if she let those emotions stew any longer her true form would burst through. Fucking hell, Charlie, you're giving orders to the Radio Demon now? Oh Lord. It was never good when her thoughts starting sounding like Vaggie, but Charlie stifled a groan as she admitted that yeah, that probably wasn’t selling the whole 'Capable of handling tough situations without needlessly endangering herself' vibe she was going for.

Alastor just smiled though. It was hard to tell, but Charlie thought he might have been pleased with her temper. There was something in the way he leaned forward onto the tip of his staff; off balance to start a fight, but magnetically drawn into the fray. “Easy now, darling! I never took to baloney as a child—horrific excuse for a meat, truly—but I can recognize it when I hear it. So you care for these... creatures? Well off course you do! A sweet, silly thing like you is bound to get attached to all manner of beings. The delightful,” he dropped into a sweeping bow, “—and the drab.” Alastor's staff kicked outward at the end of the gesture, landing on Dazzle's back leg. The goat-dragon gave a sleepy grunt at the disturbance but otherwise didn't stir.

Really, Alastor had hardly touched him, but Charlie still felt the tip of one fang digging painfully into her bottom lip. She took a deep, fortifying breath to cleanse herself of negativity. She was just stressed about the new Extermination timeline. And the sleepover. And the fact that the Radio Demon was now living down the hall. Just the other day she’d chastised Angel for a barrage of angry texts he’d sent without thinking and now here Charlie was, nearly flying off the handle for similarly petty reasons. Razzle and Dazzle were fine. She was fine, and her people were going to be fine if she had anything to fucking say about it. Charlie summoned up a smile to match Alastor’s own.

“You’re right,” she said. “An Overlord like you didn’t exist back when Mom made them, so she couldn’t have foreseen how powerful you are. I mean yeah, you’d probably win... even if there are two of them. But!” Charlie hastened to add, waving her hands as Alastor’s head cracked sickeningly to the right, “The point is that these hypotheticals are silly. Why do you care so much about who’d win in a fight? You’re never going to fight them. You don’t want to hurt me.”

Alastor’s head, still staring at her from its unnatural angle, began to vibrate oddly while the chest beneath it hitched. It took Charlie a long moment to realize that he was laughing. Not his usual, staccato Ha, Ha, Ha , but something that felt more genuine, despite the fact that no body—not even a demon’s—should be moving like that.

“Ah, what an entertaining bunny you are,” he said, a slight wheeze mixing in with the radio static. “Charlie dearest, have you forgotten that I was a serial killer? Am currently a hunter of Overlords? A keeper of souls? Are you truly under the misguided belief that I wouldn’t hurt you?”

It was terrifying how fast he didn’t move. Charlie watched as Alastor took his time lengthening each limb—spine cracking, joints tearing until they were only held together by sickly, glowing threads—and the tentacles he summoned were lazy as a house cat, inching towards her like they knew it didn’t matter how fast she ran. They’d catch her. The static grew to a high-pitched whine that hurt her ears and the very reality around Alastor began to distort, glitching horribly. One elongated limb reached out with claws glinting in the newly darkened foyer, fingers twitching, itching to rip out her throat.

Charlie blinked. She pursed her lips, gesturing emphatically to Razzle and Dazzle who still lay snoring on the carpet. “Are you listening to me? They’d have ripped you to shreds if you meant any real harm .”

She could see the exact moment Alastor gave up the performance. He froze, the very air particles freezing with him, and a pin-print of light sprang back into his eyes.

“I beg your pardon?”

“It’s not—you can’t—” With a frustrated groan Charlie pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes. “It’d be easier to show you.”

She trotted through the bits of distorted reality (shivering because ugh ) and ducked under the long line of Alastor’s leg. His eyes tracked her as Charlie scooped a goat-dragon into each arm and nudged the hotel door open with her hip. Once outside, she slapped a drowsy Razzle onto her shoulder and cupped a hand over her mouth.

“Hello there!” she called to a passing demon.

“Who the fuck you yelling at? I’ll kill you, bitch!”

“Will you?” Charlie’s gaze slid to Alastor, now back in his everyday form, curiously peeking out from the doorway. “You know what? That sounds great! Really swell! Please come and kill me.”

The demon stopped in his tracks, staring incredulously up the hill at her fidgety form. “What? Fucking what ? You have a death wish?”

“Yes! Absolutely. Will you come kill me pretty, pretty please? Uh... you ugly, short-sighted asshole? Sorry, sorry sorry ,” Charlie muttered into Razzle’s fur.

“Oh, you’re a whole new level of crazy—”

The demon was adjusting his glasses with one claw and pulling out a clever with the other when Charlie felt Alastor’s energy at her back. She didn’t need to turn around again. The horror that descended on the demon’s face and his hasty exit said it all.

Razzle and Dazzle were now alert, tails thumbing, but neither made a move to go after the guy. Charlie released the breath she’d been holding and promised to write at least five Kindness Notes to leave around town tomorrow.

When she did finally look Alastor was twiddling his fingers at the demon’s retreating form. His eyes, however, were still latched onto Charlie.

“What an interesting way you have of entertaining yourself, my dear. I whole-heartedly approve! Let me take you out on the town—Cannibal Town, that is. You can offer your limbs to the first ravenous child we meet.”

Charlie cracked a smiled. “Uh... maybe later? I didn’t just do that for kicks, you know. The point is we’re living in Hell .” She ignored the way his eye twitched at the obvious statement. “Alastor, how many times a day do you think people threaten to kill me? Pull weapons? Or yes, try to eat me? If Razzle and Dazzle attacked everyone who simply appeared threatening I never would have opened the hotel because there wouldn't be anyone left to save. That guy? All bluster. I’m not sure how Mom did it, but they’re capable of sensing true intentions. They’ll only transform for someone with a real, sustained desire to kill me—or, I guess discorporate me—and the rest? The rest I can handle myself.”

“Hmm.”

Alastor bent forward, inspecting Dazzle closely. The goat-dragon panted happily in his face. “Fascinating! Powerful too, though I’d expect nothing less from the likes of Lilith. I must say, the confidence you hold in your own abilities is simply inspiring given what I’ve seen from you so far.”

Charlie blinked, trying to decide if she’d just been insulted or not.

“You remain delusional, darling,” he clarified, patting her head. Alastor’s grin widened at her scowl and he only pulled back when Razzle gave his fingers a quick lick, his static hissing like a cat. Charlie had the strong urge to chuck them both at the demon and let him suffer the fate of endless cuddles and sticky kisses.

She didn’t though. She was merciful.

“That’s why though,” Charlie said, shrugging so that Razzle had to dig his claws into her shoulder to stay balanced. Ow.

“Why what?”

Alastor had clearly lost the train of their conversation—or was pretending to—inspecting his own claws with the air of a bored Valley Girl.

“Why... hmm. Okay, real quick: what’s an old-timey way of saying someone is full of shit?”

Charlie blinked up at him innocently, probably overdoing it a tad, but after a week of hearing him disparage her dreams as “wacky nonsense” she couldn’t bring herself to care. Not too much, anyway.

Alastor’s eyes narrowed. Definitely suspicious, though not enough to deny her.

“Why, I’d say the sod is full of hot air! A far classier image than the one you’ve just conjured.”

“Then you’re full of hot air, Alastor.” Charlie grinned. “This whole shtick you’ve got going where you pretend like you’re just one insult away from killing us all; the super evil Overlord who could go on a rampage at the slightest whim? Yeah, I get why Vaggie is concerned, but that’s not gonna work on me.” She ran her hand gently through Dazzle’s hair, eliciting a purr. “You can toss out threats and transform all you want, but if you’d ever actually intended to hurt me, even just once... they’d have reacted. They’d have defended me, whether they could win against you or not. I didn’t let you stay because I was desperate for your help—although, ha, I kinda am. I let you stay because I trust you.”

The last was delivered softly and Charlie dared to lay a hand on his arm, oh so briefly. Alastor didn’t react. He appeared to be seeing something past her, the dials of his eyes ticking erratically.

The spell was broken when Razzle let out an explosive sneeze.

“Oh shit that reminds me! I need to pick up some almond butter for Sir Pentious. Apparently his human body was allergic to peanuts and he’s still pretty sensitive about it? And Angel made me swear I’d have peanut butter on hand for the s’mores if he was going to participate in the sleepover. I need to hit the shops before they close—can you get the other supplies ready while I’m gone? Thanks, Alastor, you’re a lifesaver!”

Charlie pelted down the hill with Razzle and Dazzle flying around her heels, both of them yipping at the prospect of a walk.

Alastor remained standing there for a long time after she’d gone. At a glance he looked the same as he always did, though if anyone had gotten close enough they would have caught the sound of a radio continually switching stations.

There appeared to be no connection between the clips. Except, perhaps, that each voice spoke in a tone of furious confusion.

***

The smell of popcorn and cheap booze was sickening.

Alastor’s grin never faltered—obviously—but there were small tears in the couch armrest that spoke of his disgust. In all his years alive and dead he’d never had the pleasure of attending a ‘slumber party’ before and the newfound honor was proving to be a dubious one. Sticky sweets, snacks, and spirits covered every available surface, thrown into truly unholy combinations as Husker passed his (admittedly substantial) limit. If they all hadn’t already been damned, Alastor suspected that making caramel popcorn whiskey floats would have done the trick. The other guests were decked out in their finest nightwear, resulting in them witnessing more of Angel than Alastor had ever wanted to see. Their sanguine Princess had led them through insipid card games, a pillow fight—which did not, apparently, allow for weapons or demonic beasts. Mores the pity—and worst of all: a production shown through that horrible picture box. If they craved entertainment he might have offered her the use of his radio, but...

Well.

In truth, nothing that had occurred here tonight had truly tested Alastor’s patience. If anything, this was merely a distilled version of their collective sins; hardly surprising. He had merely been...out of sorts since their little spat that afternoon. Though it was nothing Alastor couldn’t handle, of course.

(A block away six of Hell’s dictation speakers suddenly crackled to life, causing everyone in the vicinity to freeze, warily lifting their heads. Rather than the usual draconian drivel, however, a sustained, static-y growl began to sound.)

“They’re called Kindness Notes,” Charlie was saying, displaying her stack of colored paper like a trophy. “I got the idea from this awesome human website called Reddit that must just be filled with puppies and rainbows and—”

(”Think we should tell her?” whispered Cherri.

“Yeah, but only after she’s made a bunch,” Angel snickered.)

“—and so it’s the PERFECT activity for a redemption sleepover! Remember: there is no wrong way to go about a creative project, so have fun with it! I’ve got glitter gel pens and stickers—those are scratch and sniff!—and decorative hole punches and more stickers and ribbons and—”

“Stickers?” Husk asked, tipping his glass her way. Charlie nodded with the speed of a bobble-head doll.

“Exactly! Does anyone have any questions?”

“Yeah, I’ve got one.”

“Great!”

“How much sugar you had, kid?”

“Sooooo much!” and the stack would have gone flying if not for Vaggie’s quick reflexes.

“Alright, I’ll take it from here.” She dropped a quick kiss onto Charlie’s rosy cheek before distributing the paper. “You can write anything you want provided it’s nice . Like, actually nice and not your fucked up perception of nice. Don’t sign your name, but you can put a little HH at the bottom to help promote the hotel. Try not to get too many stains on these and yes, everyone has to participate.”

Vaggie stopped in front of the couch where Alastor sat, the only one still dressed and removed from the chaos of their snack-infested pillow nest. He hadn’t the slightest idea why she’d be glaring at him when she said that and he ensured the sentiment was conveyed through his grin.

“But of course!” he said, selecting red with a black pen.

“Humph. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Something nice? A truly daunting task, even for someone of his talents. After today Alastor was more convinced than ever that the Princess was the most insane of them all. Oh, it served his purposes deliciously that she should trust him, particularly with so little effort on his part, and yet it was insulting how naive she could be. Even if he’d had a conscious, Alastor was sure he’d have no qualms about upsetting the power dynamic of Hell and seizing it for himself. If this was their royalty... Hell deserved better. Someone with hunger. Someone with style. Their little bearcat was funneling her passion in all the wrong, most entertainingly stupid directions.

Alastor tilted his head as Charlie finished drawing a sunflower, Niffty flitting about as she swept up the glitter falling away. It looked... domestic .

Ah, but it would be so easy to slit her throat from this angle, spilling ‘paint’ all across the project. Or remove that pretty head from her shoulders, near instantaneously. Summon up his demon pet to crush her bones. Drop her into a void. Fill her mind with so many screams that her brain leaked out her ears in chunky rivers. Hollow her out and puppet her so convincingly that even their Dumb Dora wouldn’t recognize her. He could do it .

Beside Alastor, taking up their half of the couch, Razzle and Dazzle gazed upon the festivities with vacant expressions, tongues lolling.

One—he didn’t care to know which—turned its head and gave him a happy chirp.

(A block away the growl became an all-out screech, like a thousand souls blended together in agony.)

“I could do it,” Alastor whispered to them. He tilted his staff for good measure, ensuring the microphone pointed directly at Charlie. “I doubt your little ‘intentions’ magic is as powerful as she says. Even if it is, you beasts lack in imagination. Trust me, darlings: there are many ways to hurt someone that don’t threaten their physical safety.”

The second goat-dragon had joined in now, tilting its head curiously at Alastor. The first began thumping its tail against its companion’s face, pleased as punch, and suddenly Alastor felt a surge of genuine anger—the first in a long time.

“ She is only unharmed because I wish it ,” he hissed, “because she is more entertaining to me alive than dead!”

(The six speakers blew, showering citizens in shrapnel.)

“Alastor?”

He quickly blinked away the red light that had covered his eyes, turning his attention to Charlie.

“Apologies! Merely musing over what uplifting message I should grace the denizens of Hell with.” Alastor tapped a long claw against his chin, hamming it up. Only Vaggie was sober and de-caffeinated enough to catch on. The smile Charlie graced him with was... honest.

Violent images filled his head in response: of obliterating—or better yet—permanently stitching that smile into place. All the while those creatures sat beside him, both at perfect ease. One even edged closer.

He could do it. He would do it. The only reason Alastor hadn’t was because he didn’t want to do it yet .

But that day would come.

Dazzle sniffed the edge of Alastor’s sleeve. Razzle yawned.

Until then, their Princess was clearly in need of better protection. He’d assign a few shadows to her; sharp pieces of his silhouette who could tail the girl without notice. It would only require a bit of exertion on his part and the surveillance was worth it to ensure his favorite toy didn’t go dying before he had a chance to finish playing with her.

After all , Alastor thought, more at ease with that decision than he’d been all day, better the Devil you know.

“Do you know what you're writing?” Charlie asked, nearly having to shout over the commotion of an impromptu show-and-tell. Sugar and alcohol seemed to have loosened everyone’s dignity alongside their inhibition, because suddenly they all wanted praise for their absurd little notes. Generic messages of support were shoved under Charlie’s nose, led by Vaggie in a delightfully embarrassing display. Although, was it better or worse that Sir Pentious was equally desperate for Charlie’s approval? Angel slapped his note down on the table—complete with a diagram—and Alastor deliberately did not give it a closer look. (Husker’s spluttering was information enough, thank you.) Cherri was busy rolling hers into fuzes, muttering continuously about the message she’d send in the next turf war. Niffty had just written CLEAN in shaky letters across pages and pages and pages of notes.

All the while Charlie stared across the chaos at him. Imploring.

However could Alastor deny her?

“Oh, yes indeedy, my dear,” he said. “Patience—you’ll see it soon enough.” Alastor deliberately raised a hand, ensuring she saw, tracked, and understood when he laid in atop Razzle’s head. His hand was now large enough to crush the beast’s skull, claws poised to sink into vulnerable flesh, a dark ooze sizzling like acid that crept from a crack in his wrist, edging dangerously close.

Throughout it all, Razzle purred.

***

The next morning Charlie woke to find a red note taped to her bed, delivered by shadows. Dazzle was the first to find and drop it into his mistress’ lap, producing happy yips as he caught her expression.

“We’ll win him over,” Charlie said, grinning as she re-pinned the note to her mirror.

Alastor had given her just one word of encouragement, accompanied by a sketch of two dead goat-dragons:

SMILE

#Hazbin Hotel #Alastor #Alastor & Charlie #Hazbin fic

[cantsomeoneelsedoit]

Ch 42: As Long as They Don't Forget

They call him Captain Puppy Eyes

Did she atone by founding the Sunflower Nursery??

Andy tells her to pour Anheuser beer on his crew's graves to find forgiveness, and Fuuko sets out alongside him. He claims that he wants to make the saloon woman suffer, but Fuuko sees another side to his motivation. And then we get:

🐎COWBOY ANDY MONTAGE🐎

We see the four seasons representing the passage of time between them. In the first one, they're both shooting at a group of normal-looking old-timey Western guys. In the second, they're walking through the desert.

In the third, there's falling leaves and an angel in the background. It looks like they've got a child fighting with them. They're fighting two guys wearing suits and masks that resemble the Union Negator hunters from Chapter 1. The angel doesn't quite match up with the statue in the chapel in Longing, either. I'm so curious about this one!!

Angel comparison:

In the fourth, Andy has buried a friend in the wintertime. There are two other people dressed like Andy and Fuuko.

I love the way the narration boxes explain Fuuko's POV here. Describing the time as eons that passed quickly, like a dream, both rich and deep but also instantaneous--- that's a lot like the effect authors want to create when writing a good flashback.

We see some crumbs about Andy's current crew, and that he's drinking a Budweiser, which came out in 1876 IRL.

Andy and Fuuko's conversation about death raises some questions about Victor. When he's being suppressed, is he "alive?" Can you be alive if you can't challenge? If you can't change?

We see how Andy's crew formed. When they met him, everyone was wearing tattered clothes and looking like they were just in a battle. I'll bet Andy helped them out and then they started following him like Fuuko.

Fuuko tells him that she believes people who have passed remain alive in our hearts and talks about how she feels her parents guiding her.

Andy knows that he won't be alone anymore and he smiles. And then all readers collectively gasp at the next page:

FIRST OF ALL, {ohrwepo%9Ksd46<2[LJS:Fqj3nq4rwe^isdfah!

I can't believe it! The realest, non-battle-related, most solemn and serious moment of major romance, and they still don't kiss!

And she's right-- It's not really the same person and he doesn't really know her as well as she knows him at this point.

The line, "As long as I don't forget, then people won't die" is impactful to this story in so many ways.

First, Juiz has to remember to find people every loop. If she forgets to how to seek out the Negators or forgets who they are, she'll waste opportunities to defeat God.

Second, what does it mean when the story seals off Victor's memories? Are those memories "dead?"

Third, Andy has to remember Fuuko so he can find her in the future.

Also, Andy/Victor serves as a "witness" to the story to remember all the people and events that have happened. If they forget, they'll be missing valuable information that can help everyone.

In one way, it's really sweet that Andy now has a philosophy that he never really has to say goodbye to people bc they live on as long as he remembers them. But in another sense, it's horrifically tragic bc he's already forgotten so much. Everyone from before April 15, 1865 is dead to him, in all senses of the word.

What was the reason she began to fade away? Was it because she told him she loved him? Because he smiled? Because they almost kissed? And what will she find at the next stop in the book?

Masterpost

#undead unluck #undead unluck spoilers #overreading undead unluck