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thepaintedlady00 · 9 months

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Jake's POV: Halloween

TW: some mild feelings of inadequacy, man's is RUNNING in this, flirting, some very suggestive language and talk, as always mentions of alcohol, depictions of drunk idiots, a very heated make-out session, a bit of a hand job, some fingering, and the good ol' Russian cockblock!

Here's a little treat for y'all! Jake's POV of this was just too good not to share! 😂 Enjoy!

Jake watched as Lena moved through the mass of bodies, bathed in some unfathomable holy light. It might have just been a costume, some cheap dress with some cheap wings, but god, did she make it feel real. The way she playfully glared at Quinn, and the genuine amusement that followed at the sight of Ari made him suddenly feel nervous.

Looking down at his normal attire, Jake finally understood the meaning of the stripper's previous statement. It's not us you're disappointing. The costume hadn't been for Quinn's benefit but for Lena's. He was an idiot. An underdressed absolute fucking idiot.

The second she approached him, he could see that joyful light in her eyes dim… Disappointment staring back at him. He was familiar with that look, familiar with the bitter sting and the way his whole body tensed at the sight of it. Simone often had that disappointed gleam in her eyes, so one could say he'd gotten used to it. So used to it he'd usually laugh or make some flippant self-important asshole-ish remark and leave it at that. But Jake didn't feel like laughing now.

He almost felt sick. Like the disappointment in Lena's eyes made him physically want to throw up. Why was this different? He wondered. Was it simply the fact that she was disappointed? Or was it the fact that it was her that was disappointed? Then it happened… The thing that made the answer clear. Lena shoved her disappointment down, clearing it from those emerald eyes entirely, and smiled at him.

Simone would have just outright told him how she'd expected better. Howard would have made some mocking passive-aggressive comment. Literally, everyone else in this world would have done something to make him feel guilty or inadequate. And yet, there she was, smiling at him like there wasn't anything wrong… Like he was worthy of it.

What made it different was that Lena moved past it. She didn't try to make him feel anything or try to change his mind. She just smiled at him and gestured to the couple now making out behind her. "Those two are quite the pair, aren't they?"

Fuck. He looked down at his clothes again, a burning hot feeling filling his chest. Disappointment. Jake was disappointed in himself. Fuck. "I gotta go."

He heard her shocked reply, "What?" He felt her quickly reach out to try and halt his steady steps toward the door, but Jake didn't stop. His mind was made up.

That was how he ended up standing on the curb, desperately trying to catch a cab home before abandoning the foolish notion that a cab would be fast enough.

That was how he ended up running like a madman through the streets. He shoved his way past crowds of dressed-up people, ignoring their angered shouts and focusing on the image of Lena lingering in his mind.

He practically tore his door off the hinges, slamming it open suddenly enough to cause Hemingway to jump and scatter under his chair with a discontented hiss. Breathing heavily, Jake closed the door. "Sorry, Hem. Gotta be quick."

Quick, as it turned out, would be an almost two-hour process. The first thirty minutes were spent tearing apart the box and struggling to get the dumb costume on. The next thirty minutes were spent meticulously fixing his hair and getting the fake glasses to fit. Then Jake spent an embarrassing amount of time convincing himself to walk out the front door. "You look ridiculous."

Simone had always hated Halloween. She hated the costumes and the loud noise and staying up late and the horror and scares… Everything Jake had once loved about the holiday. He couldn't remember what Halloween had been like with his mom, but if he thought about it long enough, he could sometimes recall her blurry smile. He remembered every Halloween with Simone.

Her dad always got drunk, and her mom always tried too hard while not trying at all. As always, she was all talk and no action. She'd discuss plans with them, but it was Simone that always came through. She was the one that would take him to get a costume, and she was the one that would help him get dressed. Even though she hated it and made snide remarks about how stupid he looked, she still took him trick or treating. She didn't pretend to enjoy it, but she did it.

"Come on," Simone hissed, pulling his arm. "We're going home."

"There's still a whole block left!" He whined.

She turned and glared at him. "You look fucking ridiculous, Jake!"

She'd said as much before they left the house, but now it felt worse somehow. "It's Halloween… It's a dumb costume."

"Well, you're too old for dumb costumes. You're thirteen, for god's sake! What kind of thirteen-year-old still goes trick or treating!"

His eyes stung with tears, and as he looked around at the other kids running wild with their candy bags, he suddenly felt self-conscious. Plenty of thirteen-year-olds were in those crowds, but Jake didn't see that. He wiped his eyes with his stupid costume sleeve and nodded. "You're right. Let's go."

Simone sighed, noticing the change in him like she always did. "I didn't mean to upset you. I just… I don't want you to embarrass yourself."

"It's fine. Let's just go."

As the two walked back, Jake listened to Simone list all the reasons this was for the better. While she talked, Jake quietly decided he didn't like Halloween anymore. Not the costumes or the candy or the loud noises or staying up late. It was stupid, and he'd been stupid for enjoying it at all.

On that Halloween night, as he lay in bed listening to the other kids laughing in the streets of Cape Cod, Jake decided he didn't like being thirteen anymore.

The conflicting feelings and the relentless echo of Someone's voice in his head quieted when he looked down at his phone and saw a slew of messages waiting for him.

"Did you seriously bail? Everyone's asking where you went. So, text me or whatever, so we know you're not dead." Ari.

"I saw you leave. Hope everything's alright. Call me if you need anything." Ozzy.

"Hey, asshole, where the hell did you run off to? Look, you don't have to dress up or whatever, but you can still lighten up a bit. Just text someone. You might be annoying, but no one wants you to be in any trouble." Quinn.

"Hey… I, uh, hope you're not sick or dead or anything. You, uh, left pretty quick, so everyone's pretty worried about you. Call me if you need anything. Happy Halloween, Jake." Lena.

Jake found his feet moving before his mind had the consciousness to tell them to. At first, he felt ridiculous. Old self-conscious fears of someone telling him he looked stupid or saying he was too old to be dressing up plagued him for a few blocks. But, the closer he got to the bar, the less he cared about what anyone else thought. And then he stepped inside and found her in the low lighting, red hair glowing and wings framing her body in a way that made his heart race.

Watching her eyes widen, and her glossy perfect lips part in shock made the whole thing worth it. He moved around everyone in his way until there, standing among the crowd searching for him, she appeared. Her green eyes found him, and that nervous tension in his gut was replaced by another tension. A need to have her.

As the two drifted closer, he found himself unaware to keep his eyes from wandering. He took in every detail, filthy thoughts… Images of what he wanted to do to her - what he wanted her to do to him… All of it paused at the sound of her soft, slightly horse greeting, "Hey."

"Hey," he answered with an involuntary smile.

She made a quick gesture to his costume and hid a smile of her own. "I thought you didn't do costumes?"

His face suddenly felt hot as he chuckled. "Usually, I don't. But, I figured, why the hell not?"

The awkwardness that hung between them evaporated the second she slid her body right next to his, a long delicate finger dragging down the cheap buttons of his costume. "You know… I've always wanted to fuck a Ghostbuster."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"That your way of saying you're not interested?" She asked, looking up at him through her long lashes.

For a moment, Jake wanted to laugh at her. How she could ever think he'd be anything but interested was laughable. Shaking his head, he answered, "Oh, I'm interested. Always thought girls in angel costumes were sexy."

He watched that playful look grow. "Why's that?"

"I don't know." His eyes drifted again to the soft curve of her neck and the supple cleavage her pretty white dress allowed. Those thoughts were back again, louder than before, impossible to ignore. He wanted her. More than anything, he wanted her to want him. "But I am very interested in seeing that dress above your hips and those legs wrapped around my waist while you moan my name."

Her pupils dilated as she laughed, her body pressing into his. "These wings aren't the best quality, but they'd be a good place to pull on, you know, to help bounce me."

"That's a very good idea." The image instantly filled his mind, and his hands instinctively grabbed fistfuls of her dress. "Though, I am very tempted to just rip it all off you."

"How blasphemous." Her eyes shifted, and it was like he could see the decision being made. "Meet me in the alley?"

"Are you-"

"I'm not drunk or high or anything." She lifted herself on the tips of her toes and pressed her lips to his in a kiss that was far too short to satiate the burning hunger building inside him. She pulled away, whispering the exact words he'd wanted to hear, "I want you."

His fingers traced down her spine, testingly tugging on the base of the wings. "Good, because there's nothing I want more than this."

She pulled away, and his eyes drifted down the length of her. A finger tapped beneath his chin, drawing his attention back to those damn green eyes. "Don't keep me waiting."

Couldn't even if I wanted to, he'd almost said. "I wouldn't dream of it, princess."

He watched her as she slowly made her way through the crowd and out the back door, hips swaying and those pretty eyes of hers catching hid right before she disappeared out the alley door. Holy shit. His heartbeat was thundering in his chest. Pounding so hard he thought he'd break a bone.

Jake was anxious, buzzing with thrilling anticipation that made him want to run across the alley to the woman waiting for him. Sadly, he knew the feeling of Quinn and Ari's eyes too well. They watched him from their booth and giggled together as they continued drinking. He was hoping to be discreet. An unlikely thing, but one he wanted to attempt anyway. The last thing he and Lena needed was their loud teasing.

So, Jake stopped by the bar, ordered a drink, and acted like nothing had changed. He made small talk with Patrick and Katie, and Oz before the group of bikers came flooding in, providing a perfect cover. He molded into the crowd, carefully weaving through them and out the alley door. From there, it was quick, his feet moving as quickly as he could make them until he opened that last door and saw her standing there.

She froze, halting the obvious packing she'd been doing, and just watched him as he closed the door behind him. Lena looked cold, her costume not providing her much warmth while she waited for him. Jake almost asked her if she wanted a jacket, but that was when she moved forward and pressed her chilled lips to his. Her fingers curled into his costume, and Jake lost any notion of nervous anticipation.

She was here. She wanted him.

Their bodies moved with one another like they'd been made to. Jake pulled her dress up, exposing the soft skin of her bare legs to the brisk air. Lena shuddered against him, breaking away from his lips for a split second to gasp. Heat coursed through him with every sound she made. Pulling her leg up over his hip, he turned them, pressing her into the brick wall and swallowing the whines she made before he pulled away.

His lips stayed as close to hers as he could get them, breath fanning across her face as he breathlessly said, “Take your underwear off.”

She bit her bottom lip, and it took every ounce of control to keep him from ripping them off of her. His eyes drank in the sight of her, bending down to slide the silky garments off. "Better?"

Jake’s hands slid up higher, fingers gliding along the curve of her ass with a nod. God, he'd wanted this for so long, and now… He had to keep himself in check, or this would be over too fast. His hips pressed into hers, forcing another moan from her lips. Keep it together. “Yeah, that’s better.”

“Fuck." Her hands fisted in his hair, tugging softly for one second before she moved them to the front of his shirt and pulled until the buttons popped open.

Fuck. He groaned, helping her get his arms out of the fabric. The feeling of her soft palms running along his bare chest and her nails digging into his back made him almost lose himself. “God damn.”

He hoisted her up, using the wall to help steady her as her legs wrapped around his waist. Reaching between them, he tried to pull the focus back onto her. He needed her to come first. He needed to make sure she enjoyed this just as much as he was. His skilled fingers circled her clit, eliciting sounds that, in Jake's mind, only further proved how goddamn perfect Lena was.

"Jake." The way she moaned his name and moved herself more desperately against him only made the fire in him burn hotter. When her head tilted back, he didn't waste the chance to latch his mouth onto the gorgeous column of her throat, kissing, sucking, biting, trying to consume her as she had consumed him. "Couch. Now."

Jake almost came right then. The wanton sound of her voice… An order but at the same time a plea. It sent him backward without a second thought, carefully stumbling until his ass hit the old sofa. For a split second, he regretted choosing the alley. It was dirty and dingy… Not what she deserved for their first time. But that moment came and went as Lena's mouth locked back onto his.

The feel of her tightening around his fingers as she pulled his dick free of the costume and wrapped her hand around him. It felt like lightning struck him, filling him with an immeasurable amount of pleasure. His mouth fell open as he mumbled for the wings on her back, desperately pulling her down harder. “Fuck, Lena!”

Withdrawing his fingers, Jake angled his hips, settling his sensitive, pulsing dick settled between the lips of her pussy. She didn't stop the steady rocking of her hips, and he didn't stop pulling her. Each movement of her hips made the tip of him catch against her clit, and Jake watched with lustful eyes as the sensation drove her mad.

God, she was beautiful. Gasping and moaning against his lips, sharing his breath like it was the only oxygen she needed. When her eyes opened, and the blown green of them met his, Jake felt like he'd combust. Lena's eyes mirrored his. Desire, lust, hunger but also that speck of a thing… That feeling that neither of them had mentioned aloud. Passion and vulnerability. Trust and intimacy. Things he'd never felt before. Things he'd never expected to find in her eyes.

This was real. It was more than a quick fling - more than the sinful urge to have what he wanted, an urge he was more than used to. She was real. What he felt for her… That was more real than anything Jake had known.

His heartbeat skipped around, fear stealing the breath from his lungs. This was real. It was different and good, and… he didn't deserve it.

“Jake." The soft whisper of his name, her voice, was enough to pull him from that spiral of uncertainty. Her hand moved between them, carefully guiding him where he - both of them - wanted to be most.

“Come on, princess,” he encouraged, shoving any doubt and fear from his mind, focusing on her. Just her. He roughly tugged on the straps of her dress, wanting… No needing for more. “Don’t keep me waiting.”

“GET YOUR FILTHY HANDS OFF ONE ANOTHER!” That good for nothing, god damn fucking Russian!

Both of them froze, and Jake watched a fury that matched, no, surpassed his own fill Lena's eyes. She whirled her head around, casting that hellish gaze on the drunken Russian. “SASHA!”

Quinn and Ari drunkenly scrambled through the doorway after him. Jake groaned, head falling back against the shity cushion. God damnit. "This is cheating!”

Ari hiccupped. “You can’t just barge in on them!”

“This is America, lesbians! I can do whatever I want!” Sasha yelled words slurred and a glassy look in his eyes.

She moved off Jake’s lap, shoulders set and fists clenched, clearly seconds away from a fight. He shoved himself back into the costume and grabbed her arms as she began to unleash that anger on the drunken crowd. "Are you guys fucking serious?! Our sex is not any of your business, and you absolutely have NO RIGHT barging out here when you know we’re-”

Sasha’s watch beeped. Midnight. “I WIN! Pay up, you vaginas! I WIN!”

As he celebrated his victory, Jake forced his angry breaths out of his lungs. He'd fucking kick Sasha's ass later. That is, if there was anything left to kick once Lena was through with him.

“On my god!” She groaned, frustratedly fixing her dress.

Ari and Quinn fished cash out of their costumes with huffy sighs. “You guys couldn’t have jumped on each other like two minutes earlier?”

I swear to god… “I’ll fucking kill you.”

The rest of the night was spent in seething silence. Neither of them wanted to have the dressed discussion of what almost happened… Or face the reality of the fact that they both wanted nothing more than to finish what they'd started. Sasha loudly boasted again about his victory, and Jake scowled. And maybe kill a Russian too. When the time came for the idiots to crash at Lens's house, Jake walked them all home beside her. That frustration and deep-rooted ache coursing through his body made it hard to think of anything other than the feel of her body against his. When she turned and offered him a sigh, he felt some of the weight ease.

"I guess I'll see you tomorrow," she said, still sounding as disappointed as he felt. He realized then she likely thought that this would be a wake-up call or something for him. Lena Harrow likely thought this minor - annoying and fucking ridiculous - interruption would be enough for him to give up the seemingly endless pursuit of her.

And so, before she could disappear into her apartment building, Jake reached out and stopped her. He pulled her back to face him and kissed her. It wasn't as ravenous as their kiss in the alley had been and not nearly as heated as the others they'd shared over the months that had passed. This kiss was softer, a bit shy… It was a silent assurance that tonight hadn't changed his mind.

You are not some quick thing to me. He wanted to tell her. But, as he looked down at her flushed cheeks and dark eyes, he knew he didn't need to. Lena felt it. She felt that hum of something between them. And so, he set his forehead against yours with a simple, "Night, princess."

"Goodnight, tough guy," she replied, just as simply.

By the time he'd gotten back home, most of his anger had faded. Jake was going to get Sasha back for the interruption, of course, but for now, he focused on having spent this Halloween among friends. He tossed his shoes into a corner, slammed his door shut, and promptly fell into his bed.

Hemingway jumped up to join him, pawing at Jake's costume for a minute before he gently rolled into his chest with soft purs. Chuckling, Jake gave the cat what he wanted and scratched his head. "At least one of us had a good night."

Meow.

Staring up at his ceiling, he sighed. "Now that I think about it, my night was still pretty good."

On that Halloween night, as he lay in bed listening to the city noise, Jake decided Halloween wasn't as stupid as he thought. That night he smiled, quietly wondering what Lena would want him to dress up as next year.

#fic: nightshade #sweetbitter jake #jake sweetbitter #sweet bitter #sweetbitter #sweetbitter smut #sweetbitter fanfiction #sweetbitter lena #lena harrow #jake and lena #jake x lena #sweetbitter jake x oc smut #sweetbitter jake x oc #sweetbitter jake x lena #sweebitter ocs #cut pov #sweetbitter ari #sweetbitter sasha #happy halloweeeeeeen

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littlemisspascal · 2 years

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Formula 101 - Prologue: September

Summary:

Vulpecula picks Oddball to replace Juan Badillo for F1 2023

Formula1Daily - 5 minutes ago

Vulpecula reserve driver, known by the racing community as Oddball, is set to replace Juan Badillo as one of the team’s two full-time drivers in the 2023 Formula 1 season…

Pairing: eventual Javi/Fem!Reader "Oddball" (OFC)

Word Count: 7000+

Rating: T

Warnings: Formula One AU ft. multiple Pedro Pascal Cinematic Universe characters, Canon Divergence, Switching POVs, Worldbuilding, Social Media Fic, Headlines inspired by true events but edited for this plot, Usernames were created for PPCU characters and if they do exist irl there's no affiliation, Slowest of Slow Burn, Language

Author Note: I've been a longtime fan of Media Fics ever since my days in the Captain America fandom and I decided to finally give it a shot writing one of my own. This might be the most fun I've ever had working on a fic--and it's also been the most challenging by far 😅 Hope someone out there enjoys this! Can't wait to share more with y'all 💗

Also, in real life, CEOs and team principals are 2 separate jobs but for this fic I decided to combine them :)

Special shout out to @beecastle for keeping me sane! Looking forward to documenting our many adventures together with BBB 😉

A03 Link | Series Masterlist

Summer was in full swing, afternoons hot and Sorgan's forests green all around, when your dad took you to watch your first race. It was a karting championship at the track near the Common House. You remember the electric thrum of excitement in the air, the roaring drone of the engines as the wheels devoured the concrete, how the drivers were mere blurs whizzing by, distinguishable only by the colors of their gear. And despite being only seven, you knew right then and there you wanted to race too. Your dad raised an eyebrow when you told him your desire, but he didn’t say no. He didn’t say much at all, really, just got that wrinkle between his eyebrows he always got when he was thinking particularly hard about something.

You hadn’t known that motor racing was a predominantly male sport. Didn’t know how hard it was for a girl to get her foot in the door of the racing community without some kind of connection (usually in the form of a father, brother, or husband). You just thought it looked like fun. Like something new and exciting and nothing at all like the tedious krill farming the rest of your village loved.

That night, your dad brought it up at dinner. You remember your mom had seemed to freeze for a second, biting her bottom lip, meal momentarily forgotten. And then—

“Well, there’s nothing wrong with trying new things.”

Your dad hummed in agreement. “If she starts practicing now, she could be ready to join the local team next season.”

“She’ll need gear, of course,” your mom stood up to grab a piece of paper and pen to start a list of necessities. “And a kart—maybe one of Myra’s boys has an old one we can borrow for now. They haven’t gone down to the track in months. We’ll go ask first thing in the morning after breakfast.”

A grin spread across your face as you listened to her continue to ramble on, your dad occasionally chiming in once he’d swallowed his mouthfuls. The way your mom talked, it all seemed so easy, so simple.

Years later, you’ll laugh at your own naivety. There’s nothing easy about the world of racing. It’s a roller coaster of ups and downs, the thrill of success and the brutal disappointment of failure, never knowing what’s coming next. It’s high speeds and long hours and harsh words screamed in your face, telling you to quit, telling you that you don’t belong.

And later still, when you’re making history in Formula 1 and opening doors for future generations of girls to follow after, you’ll think it was all worth it.

There isn’t anything you would change.

_________________________________________________

Formula1Daily

All You Need to Know About Formula 1: A Beginner’s Guide

Ginger Ale ─ June 20, 2022

What is Formula One?

Formula One (aka Formula 1 or F1) is the highest level of international motorsport where 20 drivers compete in the fastest single-seat, open-wheel, and open-cockpit racing cars in the world. The word ‘Formula’ comes from a set of rules the constructors, mechanics and drivers of the car must strictly follow which were devised by the Fédération Internationale de l'Automobile (FIA).

What’s so special about a F1 car design?

Formula 1 cars are designed to achieve high speeds by generating aerodynamic downforce. They are capable of top speeds of 360km (223mph). Therefore the cars are also equipped with rear wings and diffusers to keep them grounded on the track or else the drivers would have little steering control.

How to become a F1 driver?

Most drivers begin their racing careers in kart racing competitions, then gradually progress through other single-seater series, and then onto Formula 3 and Formula 2. Champions of F2 are commonly recruited onto F1 teams, but it is not a requirement for F1 drivers to have competed in F2.

Drivers must develop high stamina and quick reflexes, as well as intense concentration. They are required to commit a lot of time maintaining their physical and mental health both during the season and off.

When driving around corners, a driver’s head will be pulled sideways by a force of 2 to 6Gs (the equivalent of a force 6 times their weight), making breathing and focus challenging for the duration of the race which could last from one to two hours. Formula 1 drivers are known to spend much of their training sessions strengthening their neck muscles in order to withstand the pressure.

Drivers must also be at least 18 years old, pass an official FIA knowledge test, and have a FIA Super License which allows them to annually compete in the motorsport.

How many people are on a Formula 1 team?

Drivers in Formula 1 compete in teams which are each supervised by team principals, aka CEOs. There are 10 teams overall and they must compete with two cars apiece. There may be upwards of a thousand members on a team when including engineers, mechanics, designers and support staff.

How many races are there?

There are 21 races which take place all over the world during the F1 season. Each race is called a Grand Prix (or GP) and lasts the length of a weekend. Typically, the season lasts from March to November.

How to win?

There are two championships which take place each season in F1: the World Drivers’ Championship and the Constructors' Championship.

The driver who finishes a race the fastest is determined to be the winner. A points system is used at each race and the top ten fastest drivers earn points. The amount of points decreases the lower a driver’s finish. For example, first place receives a hefty 25 points whereas tenth place only earns 1.

At the end of a season, all the points are added up. The driver with the most points is declared World Champion, and the Constructors’ Championship goes to the team with the most points accumulated by both of its drivers.

What’s it cost?

Formula 1 teams must pay an entrance fee per season starting at $500,000. The cost for building a brand new car, staff expenses, and transportation to each of the races are different for each team, but typically every one spends at least $50 million. A budget cap of $145 million was introduced in 2021 to make a fairer playing field for all the teams.

Why should you watch?

If the speed, strategies, and incredible technology of the sport hasn’t already hooked your interest, then stick around for the controversies, the rivalries, and, most hilarious of all, the reaction from social media. Whatever reason prompts you to start watching, it’s a guarantee the endless drama will make sure you always stay invested.

_________________________________________________

Present Day - September 5, 2022

“I see no Ferris wheels,” Javi’s father used to say whenever Javi complained about the unfairness of life during his preteen years. The phrase is an odd mix of humorous and poignant, meant to make whoever hears it stop and take a look around at the world, to notice life isn’t a fairground to entertain us. Back then, the words usually provoked Javi’s temper rather than quenched it, but now that he’s older he finds them coming to mind more and more.

“I swear you’ve been looking at your phone every five minutes, Javi,” Frankie says, taking a seat on the other end of the couch. As far as teammates go, Frankie isn’t so bad. He’s quiet mostly, keeps to himself and doesn’t cause unnecessary drama in the paddock.

“You got a secret girlfriend or something?”

If not for his irritating obsession with Javi’s non-existent love life, Javi might even call him a friend.

Javi doesn’t have to look at the man to know he’s smirking. “Or something,” he answers, only a little prickly sounding.

Frankie sits up straighter and braces his elbows on his knees, leaning closer into Javi’s space. He actually looks a little concerned now. “Shit, man, I was just kidding. There really is something going on?”

Here’s the thing: there’s always something going on when you’re an F1 driver. If he isn’t racing, he’s practicing; if he isn’t practicing, he’s reviewing data; if he isn’t reviewing data, he’s standing in front of a camera answering questions for the press or fans or God knows who else; and if he’s not doing that, then he’s usually passed out in a hotel room in whatever country they are in for the week. For as much as it’s a dream come true for this to be his career, it also has the tendency to turn his life into a roller coaster of chaos.

I see no Ferris wheels.

Javi lifts his cap off his head just enough to drag a hand through his curls, and says, “I’m expecting a call from Gabriela.”

His PR agent is quite possibly the closest thing to an angel on earth. She keeps his schedule organized, his interviews short, and doesn’t take any bullshit from anybody who dares try to stand in her way. Other drivers can only wish to have someone as efficient and quick-witted as her on their team. Javi honestly would rather lose a limb than lose her.

“It’s like pulling teeth with you,” Frankie mutters, shaking his head, though he doesn’t seem truly irritated. Javi can count on one hand the amount of times he’s seen his teammate angry and each of those times were out on the track in the aftermath of a shunt. “Wait, don’t tell me you got dropped again?”

The team polo Javi’s wearing does absolutely nothing to hide the way his shoulders tense up. Irritation flares in his chest—not at one particular person, that would have been easy to deal with, but at a whole list of names and things.

At the top is his younger self who agreed last year to be transferred from Black Gold to Triple Frontier for the current season, believing Maxwell Lord’s promise his seat would still be available for him to return to in 2023. Such an idiot. Next there’s Dave York announcing not only was he returning to F1 after two years of retirement, but also that he’d be joining Black Gold.

The media was shocked, the fans were shocked, Javi was shocked. And also hurt and a little—no, a lot pissed off.

Dave York is a two-time world champion so Javi gets the appeal. Hell, if he had to decide between himself and York he’d choose the other man without hesitation. Still, the betrayal from his former team had stung worse than a venomous snake bite, not to mention they didn’t have the consideration to even call ahead and warn Javi they were breaking their contract with him. If they had, Triple Frontier could have arranged to keep him as their second driver next season along with Frankie instead of devoting their time to finding a new rookie to fill the spot.

For the first two weeks of the summer break, Javi’s future looked helplessly bleak. He’d been an F1 driver for four years, barely given the chance to make a household name for himself and it was scary to think it could all be over. His career, his childhood dream— finished. Just like that.

I see no Ferris wheels.

But August proved to be another strange and unpredictable month within a strange and unpredictable year.

Pietro Alvarez announced his impending retirement. Vulpecula wanted an experienced driver to fill the seat. And all of the sudden, after a long phone call and no less than a dozen signatures, Javi’s future didn’t look so miserable anymore. He would be trading his dark green Triple Frontier kit for Vulpecula’s cobalt blue next year.

“No, Vulpecula hasn't dropped me,” Javi says stiffly. Frankie at least has the decency to look abashed for jumping to the wrong conclusion. “They’re supposed to be announcing my teammate today.”

“Poor guy,” Frankie says, wincing in mock sympathy. “He has no idea what an intolerable asshole you really are.”

Javi rolls his eyes. “I’ll miss you, too, Morales. No one else will ever compare.”

The other man beams at that, but his response is interrupted by the chime of a new text message. Javi’s not sure what surprises him more, the fact Gabriela—who notoriously condemns texting, claiming 99% of misunderstandings occur as a result of a text’s tone being misinterpreted—is the sender, or the actual text itself.

From: Gabriela (11:15)

Don’t say or do anything until I’m there

To: Gabriela (11:16)

What’s going on???

From: Gabriela (11:17)

Vulpecula officially announced your teammate

From: Gabriela (11:17)

Next season’s going to be interesting

“What the hell does that mean?” Frankie asks, unashamedly reading the texts. He sounds as confused as Javi feels.

Ignoring him, Javi exits out of the conversation and looks to the internet to make sense of Gabriela’s crypticness. He takes one look at the breaking news headlines and—oh.

After the whirlwind of last month, he hadn’t thought anything else could stun him. And yet here he is, five days into September, gaping at his phone like an idiot.

Frankie nudges him. “So, who is he?”

“It’s—” Javi swallows against the dryness of his throat. “It’s not a he.”

_________________________________________________

HoloNet

September 2022 Latest News

Vulpecula picks Oddball to replace Juan Badillo for F1 2023

Formula1Daily - 5 minutes ago

Vulpecula reserve driver, known by the racing community as Oddball, is set to replace Juan Badillo as one of the team’s two full-time drivers in the 2023 Formula 1 season…

Third female driver in F1 history has signed a multi-year contract with Vulpecula

BBB - 1 hour ago

Oddball makes it to F1, taking over for Badillo, what a turn of events! She’ll compete with Gutierrez…

Vulpecula F1: Oddball will partner with Javi Gutierrez next season

Weekly Motorsports News - 2 hours ago

“We’re ecstatic to have Oddball join us as a F1 Vulpecula driver,” said Vulpecula CEO Vivian Etten…

_________________________________________________

“I hate you so much right now,” Ben says, appearing out of nowhere. You look up at him, tucking your phone away back in your jacket pocket. He glares back at you, expression indignant. “How the hell did you get a seat before me? And with Vulpecula? Seriously?”

“There’s nothing wrong with being a late bloomer, Benny,” you retort.

“Takes one to know one,” he shoots back, pointedly looking at your chest.

“Wow, a joke about my boobs.” You slowly clap your hands in mock applause. “How original.”

“Oh, don’t mind him, Odds,” Eggsy says just as his arm drapes loosely over your shoulders. He pulls you in for a side hug. “He’s just mad he’s not the center of attention around here anymore.”

Ben scowls. “I hate you too.”

You’ve known the two boys for several years now, moving up the different series from karts to cars together. There’s a common misconception that anyone who is a rival is therefore an enemy, but Ben and Eggsy have become as close as brothers to you. Ricky, too, even though you scarcely see him nowadays since he’s too busy being one of the best rookies in F1. He’s already texted you congratulations about your promotion, followed shortly by: When I podium, I promise I’ll wave down at you amongst the peasants :)

It was nice to see Ricky’s trash talk game hadn’t improved in the slightest. Poor kid uses proper grammar and emoticons like he’s a seventy-year-old man. It’s ridiculous. Even your own father knows how to send gifs every once in a while and he’s one of the most technologically impaired people you’ve ever known.

“Oh, quit it already,” you say with an eye roll. “Everyone knows Santiago’s gonna pick you for Triple Frontier next season. He’s just being a drama queen and taking his sweet time getting the contract ready.”

Ben grumbles under his breath and crosses his arms. He doesn’t deny it though.

“And then there was only one,” Eggsy says with a chuckle, but the way he fiddles with his glasses gives away his nervousness.

You and Ben exchange subtle looks. It’s been a tough season in Formula 2 for all three of you, but while you and Ben have been vying against each other for first place, Eggsy’s been struggling a bit further behind. With only two races left before the season ends, he’ll have to have high finishes for a chance at fourth or third place in the Drivers’ Championship. And the higher he finishes, the better his odds of impressing the F1 team principals.

“It’s only September,” you say, trying to lighten the mood. “Plenty of time left for recruitment.”

“You’ll make it.” Ben’s voice is uncharacteristically serious, full of such raw certainty it has you and Eggsy blinking at him with surprise. “We’ve been through too much together to be torn apart now.”

“That,” you start, just as serious, pointing a finger in the air, “might be the nicest thing I’ve ever heard you say, Benjamin Miller.”

Ben offers you the sight of his middle finger as a response.

_________________________________________________

Wonder World Sports

Oddball: The young woman set to make Formula One history

By Steve Trevor, WWS

Friday September 9 2022

(Picture : Oddball, brow furrowed with concentration and lips pursed, studies her recent track data alongside Vulpecula engineers. Caption: Oddball is on course to become the third female F1 driver in history.)

(WWS) – It’s a cloudy September morning when I meet Oddball at a coffee shop in downtown Los Angeles. She’s dressed casually—a National Treasure graphic tee, blue jeans, and well-worn sneakers—looking like a local university student rather than someone who was recently announced to become the third Formula One female driver in the sport’s history.

“It was one of the best days of my life,” says the 20-year-old, reflecting back on the day she learned she’d be on the grid next season competing against nineteen other elite racing drivers.

What began as an ordinary race weekend for Oddball at August’s Swedish Grand Prix quickly changed with a single phone call from Vulpecula CEO Vivian Etten asking to meet with her.

“Vivian’s wonderful and hilarious. Everybody loves her,” Oddball says of the chief executive, who first recruited her as a junior driver for Vulpecula back in 2020. “When you go to a race or to headquarters, it’s always a positive environment—and that’s all because of Vivian. She looks after all of us.”

(Picture: Oddball, dressed in full cobalt blue Vulpecula driver kit, gives CEO Vivian Etten a thumbs up in the Vulpecula garage. Caption: Oddball began her racing career at the age of seven.)

READ: Marcus Moreno wins fourth world title

READ: Javi Gutierrez to replace Pietro Alvarez at Vulpecula

Vivian Etten, who has repeatedly described Oddball as “a fabulous driver” and “immensely talented,” made the decision to promote the young reserve driver to help the team improve and become a force to be reckoned with once again after several years of struggling in midfield.

Once Etten told Oddball she would replace Juan Badillo, a driver ten years her senior, for the upcoming season she was required to keep it a secret from everybody until an official announcement was made. Even her own family. She admits, “It was almost impossible keeping it from my mom. I tell her everything that happens to me, but somehow I managed to keep it under wraps.”

Oddball was born and raised in Sorgan, developing an interest in motorsport racing after watching the Outer Rim Kart Championships at the local kart track. “My family’s encouraged me from the start,” she says, smiling. “I travel so much, always on the go since I was seven, and I’m lucky to have their constant support.”

(Picture: Oddball photographed during a practice lap at the Spanish Grand Prix.)

She speaks fondly of her parents. They agreed to allow the 15-year-old Oddball to quit school and focus entirely on her racing career. “I thought it was great at the time,” she says now, looking amused. “No more math or vocabulary tests.” Homesickness, though, was a feeling she struggled with immensely once she began living on her own at eighteen. “It was so much harder than I thought it would be to move away from home. I called my mom every night the first six months and we’d both start crying. But over time, Vulpecula has become my second family of sorts. And I have more friends at the track than I ever did back in class.”

Oddball enjoys a strawberry lemonade while we talk, preferring the tart, citrusy flavor over the long list of coffees and teas on the menu. Her answers are polite and thoughtful, not a trace of smugness to be found. Her social media accounts are full of movie quotes, comedic gifs, and sarcastic one-liners. The fact that her name will go down in F1 history behind Anita Moreno and Ahsoka Tano hasn’t inflated her ego.

She has lived in an apartment in Altair for two years, about thirty minutes from Vulpecula headquarters. “No, I love it too much to move,” she says when I ask if she has plans to reside in the Mos Espa region where many past and present F1 drivers call home. “The food, the people, the closeness to Vulpecula—Altair is the best place for me right now.”

These past few months she gracefully balances the increasingly thin line between the worlds of F1 and F2—where she is currently second in overall standings—and also manages to squeeze in a plethora of interviews into her hectic schedule. September is a particularly busy month with two more races for Oddball to prepare for following this last weekend’s Romanian GP. The California GP is next weekend and then the Paradise Island GP will follow on the 30th. In general, Oddball says she enjoys the whole experience, but admits it can also be “pretty crazy at times.”

“It’s all part of the job, though. I’ve learned to become adaptable over the years.”

Of course, an interview wouldn’t be complete without mentioning four-time world champion Marcus Moreno, son of Anita Moreno, the first female F1 driver in history. “I knew he was going to come up at some point. He always does,” Oddball says, but her tone stays light, good-natured.

Similar to Oddball, Moreno was once a reserve driver for Vulpecula before making his F1 debut in 2013. However, he received additional insight and training from his legendary mother to propel his career forward, while Oddball has had to learn the tricks of the sport one step at a time.

She mentions she has talked to Moreno a few times, but she has learned the most from Vulpecula’s Pietro Alvarez, the three-time world champion who has announced his retirement at the end of the season.

They first worked closely together at the Ando Overland in January during F1’s offseason, taking turns driving during the 24-hour event.

(Picture Gallery 1 of 40: Marcus Moreno on first place podium sprays second-placed Din Djarin with champagne. Caption: Moreno and Djarin celebrate at the Florida Grand Prix before the midseason break.)

READ: Pietro Alvarez accomplishes Ando Overland dream

“It was a great experience teaming up with Pietro,” Oddball says about the endurance race, where the team came in twelfth out of fifty. “He gives everything 110% effort, even if it’s just reviewing data or rewatching footage. His advice on how to prepare myself for F1, both physically and mentally, has been extremely helpful.”

According to Alvarez, he sees “a bright future” ahead for Oddball. “She’s smart and has a natural instinct for this sport.”

Despite there being seven races left before Alvarez’s retirement, Oddball has already begun preparing to make an impact on the grid next season. What goals does she have for her debut? “Honestly? Just have fun,” she confides. “Everyone always says they want to start their career by beating their teammate or finish in the top three, but I…I just want it to be a good time, you know?”

And with that, the future F1 history-making rookie takes the last sip of her strawberry lemonade and steps outside onto the busy streets of Los Angeles.

_________________________________________________

Trending

#OddballMakesHistory

Oddball

Javi Gutierrez

Vulpecula

_________________________________________________

Busy Bee Blog (BBB) - Vlog Post #57

Thursday September 15 2022

Summary: The F1 world is abuzz right now with the news of Oddball joining Vulpecula. I asked some of the other drivers at the California Grand Prix what their thoughts were about the announcement and their answers may surprise you.

Bee Castle holds her signature black-and-yellow striped microphone, standing in the middle of the paddock walkway with a bright smile directed at the camera. “Hello everybody! Tis I, your Queen Bee, coming to you live from the paddock at the California GP.” She gestures towards the blue sky overhead. “It’s a beautiful Thursday morning, the teams are looking forward to a great race weekend while I’m looking forward to getting some drivers’ opinions on the new addition to next season’s grid, Oddball.”

The camera is zoomed in on Marcus Moreno’s grinning face. Bee coughs once, twice, and there’s a moment of fumbling before both Bee and Marcus are in view side by side. In the background, Sunspear’s motorhome is full of fancily dressed people and team members in gold shirts enjoying brunch, including Marcus’ teenage daughter Missy.

“Look who I found,” Bee says, gesturing with her thumb. “How are you doing today, Marcus?”

“Fantastic,” he replies, bobbing his head. “I love coming back here every season. Definitely one of my favorites.”

“I won’t keep you long so you can get back to enjoying everything, but BBB readers and I are dying to hear your opinion on Oddball joining next season.”

“I think it’s great news. F1 has been without a female driver for too long since my mom and Tano retired.” His smile widens at the mention of his mother. “It’s going to be great for girls to have another role model to look up to. My daughter even told me she would be rooting for Oddball instead of me!”

Pero Tovar glares at the camera.

“Good morning, Tovar.” Bee nervously shifts in place when the Spaniard remains silent. “Um, what’s your opinion on Vulpecula’s new driver?”

She tentatively holds out her microphone towards him, biting her lip.

“If she can race,” Pero says, voice a low grumble, still glaring at the camera, “she deserves a place.”

And then he’s stalking away down the paddock walkway, people all but leaping to get out of his way. His PR agent offers a quick apologetic smile before hurrying to catch up.

There’s a moment of silence. Bee looks at her camerawoman, arching an incredulous eyebrow.

“I’ll never understand why he’s your favorite driver, Rae.”

“I heard you were going around, asking opinions,” Nico Loro leans against a wall inside the Sunspear hospitality suite and places a hand over his heart, lips pulling down into a pout, “I gotta admit I’m a little hurt you didn’t come to me, Bee.”

“Well,” Bee extends her microphone with visible reluctance, “what do you think about—”

“I’ll tell you my opinion,” Nico interrupts, leaning in closer so his mouth practically touches the foam cover. “It’s most likely an advertising ploy, you know what I mean? A novelty to draw in more viewers. A gimmick. Not that I mind though. It means I have one less competitor to worry about next season.”

The camera pans to Bee’s face, catching her uncomfortable expression before she’s able to hide it with a strained smile. “Thank you, Nico,” she says through gritted teeth. “It’s always nice hearing your view on things.”

Bee, unaware the camera is recording, holds the microphone under her arm and attempts to fix her hair as the breeze picks up, ruffling it.

“Be honest, Rae,” she frowns, “does it look as much like a bird’s nest as it feels?”

“I think you look beautiful as always, Bee.”

Bee jumps with fright as Frankie Morales steps into view. She recovers quickly, offering him a beaming grin, and there’s the quiet noise of someone behind the camera snorting.

“Frankie,” she says, sounding pleasantly surprised by his appearance. “I didn’t think you’d get here until tomorrow.”

“And miss meeting with my favorite reporter? Not a chance,” he replies with a teasing wink.

Bee gasps. “Favorite?” She laughs then, delighted, and aims a fierce look at the camera. “Steve Trevor, eat your heart out.”

Frankie watches her, hands stuffed in his jeans’ pockets. It’s hard to tell if the rosy tint to his cheeks is from the sun or perhaps something else.

Turning back to the Triple Frontier driver, Bee resumes her professional blogger persona, asking, “How are you feeling about this weekend’s race, Frankie?”

“Good. Excited. Javi and I have both been preparing on the simulator, so fingers crossed one of us will end up on the podium.” He glances at the camera. “Preferably me, obviously.”

“Speaking of Javi, what do you think of his future teammate?”

“I’ve been keeping up with the F2 results and Oddball’s doing a great job holding her own against her competitors,” he replies, scratching at his scruffy jawline. “I think she’ll definitely make next season an interesting one.”

A voice off-camera calls out to Frankie, catching his attention. He waves, then holds up a finger asking them to wait for him.

“Nice seeing you again, Bee,” he says.

“You too, Frankie. Best of luck at qualifying tomorrow!”

The camera zooms in closer on their smiling faces.

Bee power walks through the paddock, in-between the motorhomes, talking over her shoulder to the camera rushing to keep up with the brisk pace. “Let’s try to get one more opinion. I think I see Dieter Bravo up ahead.” She pitches her voice higher, waving a hand in the air, “Dieter! Over here, Dieter!”

The Van Chance driver spins on his heel, lifting up his sunglasses to get a better look as Bee slows to a stop. She takes a second to catch her breath, missing the way he squints at her in silent confusion.

“Hi,” Bee greets.

“...Hi.”

“I’m doing a vlog for BBB asking drivers what they think about Oddball officially joining F1 next season.”

There’s an expectant pause which follows. Dieter merely stares at her blankly.

Bee jiggles the microphone, prompting, “What do you think about Oddball officially joining F1 next season, Dieter?”

“I had no idea she’s joining,” he answers distractedly, tonguing at the inside of his cheek. “Who’s she replacing?”

“Juan Badillo.”

“Right. That’s a shame.” Dieter looks appropriately dismayed at the news.

Bee subtly exchanges a look with Rae behind the camera.

“Is…is that all you have to say on the matter?” she asks.

He scrubs a hand through his thick curls, grimacing. “Listen, I’m sorry, I’m trying to care, but it’s way too early for this conversation.”

Bee stares with disbelief at his departing backside. “But it’s already eleven thirty…”

Bee leans against the balcony railing of a suite overlooking the pitlane.

“Thanks for tuning in to watch your Queen storm the paddock!” She gestures to the side where a like button appears on screen resembling a giant smiling bumblebee. “Let me know what you liked and what you didn’t about this video, I love hearing all your feedback. Rae, any thoughts about today’s vlog?”

“When’s lunch?”

Bee stares at the camera flatly.

_________________________________________________

Just because Javi’s never officially met Oddball doesn’t mean he’s not aware of who she is. She’s one of only a handful of female drivers who’s ever competed in F2, let alone F1, of course he’s damn well aware of her.

He’s seen her around at races, usually hanging around Vulpecula’s motorhome, decked out in their cobalt blue apparel, sometimes out on the track when the team lets her take Badillo’s place during practice laps.

She’s fast, whipping down the straights and around the corners like it’s second nature. She still needs some more time and experience behind the wheel to adapt to the changes between a F1 and F2 car, but she’s definitely got potential. He can see why Vulpecula’s taking a chance on her.

Javi has watched some of Oddball’s interviews with reporters after races. Some of her own personal Youtube content, too. Half to get a sense of his future teammate’s personality, half because once Gabriela told him Oddball creates her own videos he couldn’t resist his own curiosity.

The casual way in which she seems to handle attention is as admirable as it is surprising. When she wins, there’s no arrogance. No look at me, look at me attitude. When she loses, there’s understandable disappointment, but there’s no badmouthing her competitors. Just a fire in her eyes, determination to do better next time.

She knows she’s making history (not that she ever has a chance to forget given the amount of times the press brought it up), but she doesn’t expect special treatment for it. In comparison to how many drivers he’s met over the years, sons of politicians and millionaires, who expect the world to bend over backwards to accommodate them, Oddball’s equanimity is…refreshing.

Before the announcement Oddball was joining Vulpecula’s F1 team, she didn’t have much of an impact on Javi’s life. And even now, he hasn’t been formally introduced to her yet, only has a vague impression of what she’s like when not in front of a camera, yet somehow she’s taken up a corner of his mind. Makes him wonder about their future together at Vulpecula. If she’ll be able to hold onto that fiery determination.

Javi hopes she knows what she’s getting into.

_________________________________________________

Speed Beasts Magazine

United States' Top Motorsport Weekly

September 26 2022 Issue

Outer Rim's Next F1 Star

Can Oddball find success with Vulpecula?

How she’s making history in F1

What can she do to end Vulpecula’s bad luck with young drivers

Why she’s passionate about racing

(Cover Photo by Fennec Shand: Oddball, wearing a Vulpecula polo, offers the readers a wide smile.)

In This Issue:

4. Ricky Hauk nabs Aurelac seat 6. Pietro Alvarez retirement plans 7. Paradise Island Grand Prix first look 10. A chat with BBB’s Bee Castle 12. A chat with Speed Beasts’ chief editor Darren Eigan 13. Fan opinions on who’s hot and who’s not 14. Can Oddball find success with Vulpecula? 22. The next rising female F3 stars 24. Inside the Bravo twins’ garages 32. Be kind rewind: 2020 season highlights 36. Stats of Sunspear SS4/1 38. Remembering Paul De Santo 48. De Santo’s top 10 fastest F1 drives 52. Early predictions for the 2023 season

_________________________________________________

The second floor of the Vulpecula motorhome is a bustling hive of activity all hours of a race weekend. Drivers, mechanics, and management coming and going up and down the stairs, disappearing into the different rooms where they’re needed. The seating in the main center space has been arranged so no matter where you sit there will always be a good view of the three giant screens constantly displaying the current happenings including drivers’ standings, highlights, and weather patterns.

Having finished with your required duties for the day, you grab Diana, a spare video camera from the PR team, and sit down in one of the corner stools, out of the way of everyone else. It’s been a while since you’ve updated your personal Youtube channel, too busy dealing with the media circus exploding in the wake of your F1 drafting announcement.

“You feeling up for some fan questions today?” Diana asks, already pulling out her phone and pressing the Twitter app. This isn’t the first time your performance coach has doubled as your videographer, so she knows the drill by now.

“Yeah, sounds good,” you nod, though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t feel a flutter of nervousness in your stomach. You love your fans and interacting with them on social media, but there are also a couple rotten apples in the bunch who find joy in harassing you with rude remarks and invasive questions about your personal life.

Fortunately, Diana immediately skips over those with a derisive wrinkling of her nose, seeking out the thoughtful and funny queries instead. Although, sometimes those are hard to wrap your head around as well. Why on earth does it matter if you prefer Winnie the Pooh or Paddington Bear more? It seems like a total waste of a tweet.

The answer’s an obvious one though: Paddington Bear all the way.

Diana presses a button on the video camera, turning it on with a quiet beep and a flash of green light indicating a full battery. You give yourself a once-over, hoping nobody notices the stain on your jacket sleeve from lunch earlier, and then meet Diana’s patient gaze with another nod of your head.

She mouths, three, two, one—

“Hi everyone,” you wave at the camera, “Diana and I are here in beautiful and sunny Themyscira at the Paradise Island Grand Prix. Fun fact for those of you who don’t know, Diana grew up here. Which explains why she’s such a hardass coach—”

Diana chimes in with a cheerful, “You mispronounced badass.”

“I said what I said.” Your mouth curls up into an amused smile. “So if you want to see some of her favorite spots, I’ll be posting a couple of pics on my Instagram later today. But right now I’m going to answer some of your questions, whatever ones you’ve got, and uh,” you shrug, smile turning sheepish as your brain fails you. “Yeah, here we go.”

Hopefully there will be enough watchable material to post after you edit the hell out of the footage. You’re sure your hands are fidgeting too much, your voice too high, tongue too clumsy. Probably look like a total idiot who doesn’t know what she’s doing, but you’re trying, alright? That’s got to count for something.

“An easy one to start with,” Diana says with a smile, reading the question off her phone. “What is your favorite drink?”

“Lemonade,” you say immediately. “All kinds, though especially strawberry or lavender. Unfortunately, I can’t drink them during races. Gotta just stick with water, water, and more water.”

“Where’s somewhere you want to visit but haven’t yet?”

Your face scrunches up, imagining a world map in your head and looking for noticeable blank spots. Travel is a major element in the sport of motor racing. As both an F2 racer and Vulpecula’s reserve driver, you’ve been to every continent except Antarctica. And that doesn’t include all the years competing in karting, F4, or F3. You consider yourself incredibly lucky having seen so much when most people your age are in college right now, stuck in one spot.

“I guess…” You chew on your bottom lip. “Maybe the Water Gardens in Dorne? I know it’s impossible to go there, that only members of House Martell are allowed, but from what I’ve read it’s supposedly the most beautiful place in the whole world.”

Diana clears her throat, prompting an eye roll.

“Next to Themyscira, of course. I mean, what can beat a place literally called Paradise Island?”

“Exactly,” your coach hums affirmatively. She looks down at her phone, reading the next question. “This one is a popular one. Why are you called Oddball?”

Diana isn’t wrong; it is a popular question. So popular, in fact, it’s followed you around ever since you were seven-years-old. You wish your nickname had a cool origin story, like the superheroes from your favorite comics growing up, but life is unfortunately not a wish-granting factory.

“When I first started karting, I was the only girl competing at the time. I didn’t have sponsors like a lot of the boys, so my suit didn’t have as many advertising patches and stuff. There’s an old Disney movie, 102 Dalmatians, and in it there’s a puppy who doesn’t have any spots. I think you can guess where I’m going with this,” you look directly at the camera, shrugging a bit. “An article came out calling me Oddball and the name’s stuck with me ever since.”

“And how do you feel about it now?” Diana asks.

“Good,” you say, and you mean it too. “Both Ahsoka and Anita have nicknames—Snips and Daybreak. I think it’s actually pretty cool to have one too. Like we’re in a special club or something. Plus, if you have ever watched 102 Dalmatians, you’ll know Oddball is the G.O.A.T.”

Diana looks at her phone and whatever she sees has her shoulders shaking with restrained laughter. Oh God. “Alright, I like this next one. Would you rather have fingers as long as arms or arms as long as fingers?”

You bark out an embarrassingly loud laugh at that. “What the hell, D?”

“Don’t ask me! I didn’t write it,” she counters through her own snickering.

“Um,” you rub your hands over your face, trying to imagine the two scenarios without dissolving into another round of giggling. You only partly succeed, another snort escaping before you can stifle it. “I dunno. They’re both awful. Let’s just go with…Fingers as long as arms.”

The Q & A session continues for another few minutes. Most questions are about racing—how to get started, what’s your favorite car, best driving advice you’ve ever been given, etc.—and then there’s a couple more weird ones you suspect Diana only purposefully includes so she can laugh at your reactions, the most notable one being would you ever eat yellow snow? Hell to the no.

“This is the final question,” Diana announces, tone mimicking the overdramatic seriousness of a television game host. You school your features into an expression of intent listening, hands folded on top of the table. “Are you excited to have Javi Gutierrez as a teammate next season?”

You force yourself not to squirm. Ask anyone else the question and they’d probably give a positive or negative answer right away. Even after being faced with dozens of similarly phrased questions from the press, your brain fumbles for words each and every time. How do you say you're excited to meet him while also simultaneously feeling like you’re about to fall off the edge of a cliff—but in a good way? He’s one of your favorite drivers, been keeping up with his career since he was in F3, and when the realization sunk in he was going to be your future teammate you almost passed out. You can only hope you don’t do anything to embarrass yourself when you finally meet him.

However, there’s no guarantee you and Javi will become friends, let alone get along in a civil manner. Most of the grid doesn’t spend much time with each other off-track or consider each other anything more than teammates and fellow competitors. Javi could be a total asshole, for all you know, his whole persona on camera just a ruse to gain support from sponsors and fans. Only time will tell, you suppose.

“I am, yes,” you finally admit, hoping your smile conceals your inner turmoil. “He’s a great driver with a lot of talent and experience. I’m sure I’ll learn a lot from him next season.”

#javi gutierrez #javi g x reader #javi g x you #javi gutierrez x reader #javi gutierrez fanfiction #pedrostories #my fic #my writing

124 notes · View notes

arcplaysgames · 1 year

Text

OKAY I WENT BACK AND FIXED THE FLAG, lets roll

i'm gonna say it: futaba is the character that can go toe-to-toe with the casts of P3 and P4. she is so well written, so expansive, just the way she talks feels more alive, like allusions to her broader self. she's the one character who feels like she exists when she's not being observed on the screen.

she is Reverie's little sister and I love her to death.

Also when Reverie gives her a head pat (which is a thing I do to my mother to say hello) it's adorable, and it's clearly been so long since it's happened that it takes her off guard and she leaps away.

Baby steps, Futaba, you're getting there and I'm proud of you.

oh man i love how this game keeps making it agonizing as i turn people down!!!!

tho tbh none was worse than Ann, my god the Ann scene was so good I almost dated her just because the set-up.

but no, Futaba, i really thought about it, and you are a little sister.

(also, I am morbidly curious how the obligatory Christmas date goes without a romance. in P4G it was fucking delightful, but P5R has proven to be a fucking bastard if you don't romance someone. I wanna see if it can be worse than the Hawaii trip somehow.)

but jfc PERSONA! STOP THIS! LEMME SAY SOMETHING MORE PROFOUND! Lemme say "You're like a sibling to me" or "You're the best friend I could have hoped for," SOMETHING not just "Because we are teammates," it's so fucking cold!!!!!

yells

SEE

THAT'S MORE LIKE IT

I love that they have an in-joke. Futaba is absolutely Reverie's key item too.

okay so that's Hermit nearly a wrap, rank 9.

Time for the latest Beige News.

Akechi wants to go have a private conversation. Super private. No, even more private than that. He wants to have a chat in Mementos.

Morgana, I cannot BELIEVE you just let Reverie GO OFF TO MEMENTOS WITH AKECHI, who the fuck is gonna be around to drag Reverie's body back to the real world after? Someone needs to run up to Sojiro and meow like Lassie, okay.

But no, Morgana presumably is nervous about being an unwilling spectator to some hot makeouts so he's outie.

Points to Akechi's VA because my god it sounds like Akechi is actually having an emotion for the first time in the game.

For the curious, his emotion is Barely Restrained Murder Boner.

Unfortunately for you, bro, I just bribed Notigor with 60k yen to give me King Frost with Null Bless, so you are royally fucked. (Ba dum tish.)

This is so fucking horny I just stopped and laughed to myself for a while.

i'm fukcing cackling at this shit

Akechi would be like 50% more stable as a person if he just read Homestuck, honestly. The feeling that is burning in your chest/pants right now is called kismesissitude and it's totally fine, man. You are be max dramatic about your blackrom feels when you and Reverie could just be making out and leaving bruises on each other for fun.

But lets be real, if Akechi read Homestuck he'd unironically think Vriska did nothing wrong and then we'd have to kill him.

HE FUCKING THROWS HIS GLOVE AT REVERIE

He could be taking off a lot more than that if he stopped being weird about this blackrom thing but WHATEVER MAN, Y'ALL CAN HAVE HATE MAKEOUTS LATER I GUESS.

Pompous little windbag. I want to beat you up and make you wear something that isn't monochromatic to a hospital wall.

#p5 #persona liveblog

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blue-howlite · 2 months

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Okey first of all I just wanna say I love love LOVE your stories.

Second of all, I would like to request for doom breaker (any of your choosing). Hoe about someone cat calling their S/O right in front of them.

Aaaaa thank you! I'm happy I'm feeding y'all right!

When you get cat called.

Feat. Zephyr, Altair, Ophelia, Fade, Dariel.

Warnings: might be ooc, cultural shock in Dariel's part, I just love abusing classic elf society tropes with him.

Author's note: damn you really want to see the world burn. These people are fighting and taking down dragons, imagine what they can do to a piece of trash. These are kinda short, but they're fun.

Also if anyone ever cat calls you, any of you reading this, regardless of gender, remember: it's not your fault, you're in no way asking for it, there's an awful lot of uneducated and rude people in the world, you're doing great! Wear that top that you like, those new pants you've got, that skirt that you've had in your closet for forever! People will be horrible regardless of how you look, so decide to look good while they look like idiots.

Zephyr

The first thing he does is checking in on you. Are you uncomfortable? Do you want to head back to a private space? Are you sure you don't care?

Whatever your answer, he makes sure you get a good distance from the cat caller. Out of sight at least, even better if you get to a totally different area.

Then he makes up an excuse, he's got to deal with something real quick, be right back! Of course he leaves you with someone he trusts or somewhere safe where you can find an easy distraction.

He tracks down the cat caller and gives them a piece of his mind; maybe a hit or two, but nothing too drastic. Dragon tongue? Sure, why not, that's one of his cards to play in these kind of situations.

Altair

Then he drags that person back to you to make them apologise! He's discreet of course, he doesn't want to make you more uncomfortable, but he absolutely makes sure he's humiliating the cat caller.

Cat calls them back.

No hesitation, no questions asked, she just does it in the most awkward way possible for the cat caller, but without being outright insulting.

Just subtle enough to make everyone witnessing it really uncomfortable because they can't pinpoint what is wrong even though it's clear she's not saying something nice.

For the rest of the world she's got the silly princess pass for whatever she says, and she absolutely abuses it.

And she goes on until the person apologises to you. She is absolutely petty like that, even getting in the cat caller's face to make sure they don't get away.

Once the jerk is back in their place she holds you close and asks if you want to get something nice. Her treat!

Ophelia

First thing, she asks if you want her to beat them up for you. She'd be glad to defend you and beat up the cat caller.

Second thing, she asks if you want to do it yourself. She respects your independence and your ability to defend yourself!

Third thing, she beats them up anyway, either for you or after you're done. Even if you told her it wasn't necessary. She just wants a go with the person that cat called her partner. They're not coming out of it all in one piece.

She's not the delicate nor subtle type, she's going to absolutely make sure the person doesn't ever do it again. Broken limbs, ribs, nose, she is giving them both blunt force trauma and psychological trauma.

And she absolutely uses them to make an example for others who could get the idea of cat calling you, making sure the cat caller apologises out loud and asks for mercy. See, she's thinking in advance!

Fade

He seems calm about it.

Key word "seems".

He checks on your body language to see if you're uncomfortable or if you just don't care.

In any case he gives you a genuine compliment, while dismissing whatever the cat caller said as "Idiot's hormones talking".

He excuses himself for a moment, going to the cat caller. He doesn't seem to be doing much, just smoking and talking with the person.

Then comes back to you, and by that time you can see the cat caller starting to spasm and make weird sounds. But Fade tells you to ignore it and go ahead.

He shrugs your questions off with "Couldn't handle a little smoke I guess", not telling you that the smoke in question is one of his poisons. Non-lethal, but with very funny effects; since that person dragged attention to you, it's only fair they get some attentions from other bystanders too, right?

Dariel

...he doesn't get it.

He turns to you like "Why did they say that?". Maybe it's a custom he doesn't understand.

Cat calling is a foreign concept to members of the reserved and strict elf society. It takes a few moments for him to understand it and understand why it's bad.

But once he does, he takes it personally; that person basically insulted you, his partner. It's an attack on your honour!

He tries being reasonable and asking the person to apologise at first; then he's even more reasonable by challenging and making them fight him.

In a way or the other he beats them up. He's not one of the strongest ten in the continent for nothing.

He then goes back to you and asks how you're feeling, reassuring you that he will always defend your honour.

#doom breaker #doom breaker x reader #reincarnation of the suicidal battle god #zephyr #zephyr x reader #altair justina cayenne #altair justina cayenne x reader #ophelia amleth #ophelia amleth x reader #fade #fade x reader #dariel #dariel x reader #puppyfying Dariel is a lifestyle #so is making Altair an absolute menace that knows how to abuse her privileges #Love y'all and stay safe <3 #And be petty if they cat call you

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bullet-prooflove · 7 months

Text

Donna’s Wednesday Radio Show Prompt List #26

It’s that time again! The Wednesday Radio prompt list!

Please check the updated character list on my pinned post to see who I am writing for before submitting a prompt!

Also read the rules and do not forget to put the entire prompt into your ask!

God knows what is real and what is fake

If this old heart could talk, it'd say you're the one

you think nobody sees what you're doing to me

I'm hanging outside your door I've been here before,

You can't take back what you said

Such a saint but such a whore

And baby, you're the one for me

Your love for me, somethin' I didn't see

All these years I've been chasing down the answers

lights out on every street

I should have shut my mouth, things headed south

And now it's clear to me That everything you see Ain't always what it seems

Crashing from the high

One forgotten phone call

Doesn't matter how long it's been I know you'll always jump in

I hate what you've done, what you've made me become

Built a home and watched it burn

Too hard to breathe, I'm on my knees

It was great at the very start

I should have drove all night Would have run all the lights,

I was falling hard With an open heart

Starless sky

Last couple years have been a mad trip

Oh, these little rejections How they add up quickly

Now we're picking fights and slamming doors

It's overrated, just get another drink

How did I read the stars so wrong?

Oh the bond is deeper than skin

When you walk in the room that very night A special feelin' just burst inside

If I could turn back time, you'd still be mine

And now you're back inside my house again

One forgotten birthday

Play like the top one percent Til nothing's left to be spent

There's nobody left but the two of us

I wish I knew then, what I know now, Wouldn't dive in, wouldn't bow down

You learn love from Charlie Sheen

No remorse, no regret

I can feel so unsexy for someone so beautiful

But how'd y'all look so perfect?

I'm holding onto heaven

You must have some portraits in the attic

I'm telling you guilt is in your eyes

Dark clouds, dark clouds in every sky

Yeah, I was in the dark

I picked up every piece And landed on my feet

'Til I woke up on, on the concrete

But I don't know where it is that you've been hiding

All those years we spent alone

sleeping on the couch that night

God knows that I tried Seeing the bright side

I stumbled like my words Did the best I could,

Sell your sin, just cash in

There must be life after tragedy

You found me passed out in the yard again

We'll stay offline so no one gets hurt

Hiding from the real world

Couldn't stand to be far apart

We fucked this house up like the planet

If I ever hurt you your revenge will be so sweet

Take away your things and go

I'm not spending any time, wasting tonight on you

I've heard it all before, at least a million times

So well-trained, so animal

Live streaming the final days of Rome

It was just something in your eyes

Crazy that some people still deny it

Everything that made you great only made you bad

One tab along, it's pornographic

Tell me all your original sins

It was only you, nobody else

Why we keep coming back for more

So many questionable choices

We're gonna close the curtains

Are we both losing our minds?

Here 'til the morning breaks us

We run away from real life, thoughts tonight

Don't want to love you if you don't love me

Is the only reason you're holding me tonight 'Cause we're scared to be lonely?

We're gonna stay naive tonight

Fall into the night with you

We're gonna choose the blue pill

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mangosimoothie · 2 years

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The Bachelorette: Episode 18 - Au Revoir

Welcome back to the Sims 4 Bachelorette! In the conclusion of our dramatic multi-part hometown episode, it's now Aja's time to send one of our four boys home and select her top three. Will Cooper and Bastien's feud come to light? And if so, who will Aja believe? It's about to go down.

As promised, we let Cooper visit Aja's suite first thing in the morning so he can talk to her about his conversation with Bastien before the rose ceremony. "Cooper? What are you doing here - shouldn't we be getting ready for the ceremony?" "I really need to talk to you, it's important."

Cooper explains the situation to Aja; apparently Bastien had said something about "righting the wrongs of the past" whatever that means?? "He wants to get the final rose so he can reject you. You need to get rid of him."

Aja: But that doesn't make any sense. What “wrongs of the past??” Bastien just told me he loves me...I can't imagine him betraying me like that." Cooper: Well, he doesn't. Aja: Cooper I'm sorry but you don't know what you're talking about. Maybe you misunderstood because he speaks French and you only speak Canadian French? Cooper: Why do people keep saying that?! They're the same!

"Aja, come on, don't be naive. I know Bastien seems like a fairytale with the white stallion and the Beauty and the Beast ballroom and perfect smile, but don't you think he seems a little too good to be true? Not everyone can get the fairytale ending. Most of us just have to settle for what's REAL. Why can’t you be happy with that?"

Aja: ...Wow. If you think I’m someone who would just “settle” then you really don’t know me at all. Cooper: Crap sorry, I really didn't mean it like that. I just mean- Aja: You have a lot to say for someone who's already tried to hide things from me twice this competition. Why is it that whenever you have some big reveal for me, it's always about someone else? Anyway, I need to get ready for the ceremony so please leave.

"Aja, I'm sorry. You deserve the world. I just don't want you to get hurt." "I know. I'm gonna think about what you said, Cooper. I just need to do it by myself for awhile."

While the boys wait for Aja to come out for the ceremony (she asked us to postpone it for an hour so she could think...it's been 90 minutes.) Breakfast Club (now featuring Zeke after Darion’s elimination) gathers for a quick brunch prepared by Ryan, but Cooper’s too distracted to eat. Ryan: Dude, sit down and eat your dutch baby. Your anxiety is contagious right now. Cooper: No can do. I need at least 15 more minutes of nervous pacing so I don't have a full breakdown. Zeke: What's wrong? Cooper: I messed up. Like REALLY crashed and burned. Ryan: Again? Cooper: Not helping. Last night, I heard Bastien saying some seriously shady stuff on the phone. I told Aja, but I'm the only other person that speaks French so it's just his word against mine.

Ryan: I'm sure she doesn't think you're trying to sabotage him. You don't seem like that kind of person. Cooper: Yeah but then I told her not to be naive expect a fairytale ending and basically said she should settle because he’s too good to be true. Zeke: Oh...okay, yeah. Ryan: Yikes. I mean- sorry. Zeke: Coop, I mean this with full love so don't take it the wrong way. We're all on this show because we fit certain desirable archetypes. You're the Lovable White Guy, so realistically you have a lot more chances to mess up than the rest of us. Granted, you already have messed up a little more than the rest of us have, but you get some more slack. Cooper: Is that supposed to make me feel better? Zeke: No. It's supposed to be true.

"Y'all, at risk of sounding too much like my mom, I have a strong feeling that whatever omniscient god or sentient AI it is that controls our universe brought us to this competition with the intention of us all finding true love as a result of it. I think that the three of us should be the top three and that we all have something to give Aja. But if that's not how it happens it's not the end of the world. You did a good thing, Coop. It's gonna pay off somehow." "Thanks, Zeke...ok. Let's see how this plays out."

"I have no clue what to do. I know that Cooper wants to do the right thing, but he's had a habit of lying to me and then playing up this sort of lovably clueless thing to get out of it, and now I'm worried it might be an act. But Bastien is definitely playing to the cameras - he's extra like that. It could definitely mean he's here for the wrong reasons. I haven't seen him since he got famous. Maybe that changed him. If I send Cooper home and I'm wrong, I look like an idiot. But if I send Bastien home and I'm wrong, I look like a bitch. This sucks. Can I have like 30 more minutes to think?" You've got 15.

"Hi boys, you all look great all cleaned up as always. I loved getting to meet your families and seeing a glimpse into the people who shaped you into the fascinating men you all are. Through this, I've learned that not everyone is what they seem at first glance. Someone who seems collected and stoic can actually love to let loose and enjoy a little bit of chaos - I could definitely benefit from that. And people who seem a little prickly can actually have soft, lovable centers and big hearts. So, Zeke and Ryan, please accept your roses."

That leaves Cooper and Bastien as the bottom two, meaning one of them would have to be sent home. For some reason Bastien looks SHOCKED that he’s in the bottom.

"This is one of the hardest decisions I've ever had to make. I'm sure you know that, since it made me hold the ceremony up for two hours. Sorry about that. The thing about the whole 'people aren't always what they seem' lesson, is that it's not always a pleasant surprise. Either one of you could be putting up a front. I care for you both so deeply, but I had to go with my head instead of my heart on this. So for that reason, I'm sorry, but I will sending home...

“Cooper.”

“If you're playing me, I will absolutely destroy you. Got it?" "That won't happen, Aja. You have my word, and my heart."

Before Cooper leaves for good, Aja decides to make sure he gets a proper goodbye.

[soundtrack] "Cooper, please wait!"

"If I'm wrong about this then I'm sorry. But I just didn't know if I could trust you after you put me in danger like that with the cars, and then didn't tell me about your ex wife. I really will miss you though."

"I understand, Aja. Whatever happens, I just want you to be happy." "God damn it, that is so sweet, shit."

"I don't regret doing the right thing, and I don't blame Aja for her decision. After everything, I'd have trouble trusting me too. I have no hard feelings towards Aja, and I hope that she finds what she's looking for." What about Bastien? Any chance you and him will make amends? "Bastien can go fuck himself. Wait, sorry- are we allowed to say fuck?"

We move onto the penultimate dates with our top three: Zeke, Bastien, and Ryan. Next up, we'll take a stunning jungle vacation where the boys will each have an opportunity to get to know Aja more intimately. Could there be more surprises awaiting us? If there are, let's hope they're all for the best...

NEXT | PREVIOUS | BEGINNING

#sims story #simblr #new simblr #ts4 story #ts4bachelorette #ep18

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kinnsporsche · 2 years

Note

once again an episode that made me absolutely lose my mind!!! kp are so in love and they finally said it!! although, i would have liked it better if they said it to each other in private first but oh well can't have everything. and porsche is officially a stay at home wife i love that for him. the scene when p was drying kinn’s hair though, it was the softest shit i have ever seen in my life <3 i also loved the scenes with taytime they are always so good i wish they had more screen time. 1/4

and we got the kimchay breakup :/ i was expecting it but it still hurt. I still have hope that they will end up together. however, the most important part of this episode (for me) was vegaspete!!! god these two make me go insane. the way we went from sadistic torture to that convo at the end. bible and build's chemistry is actually unbelievable i can't get enough of these sick motherfuckers. and don't even get me started on the cinematography like the lights and the shots and just the whole atmosphere it was so good and so sexy and I’m gonna need 3-5 business days to recover. that preview was the final nail in my coffin i don't think i can wait a whole week for more. I’ve read some metas about them but honestly I don’t even care if vegas changes for pete or not. their relationship is so fucked up on so many levels that I don’t think it can really be redeemed. certainly not in 3 episodes. and honestly does he need to be? can’t he just stay the fucked up villain that he is? I wouldn’t mind. I’m just here to enjoy some toxic fictional men be sexy and gay and so far they did just that so I’m satisfied. I can’t believe we only have 3 episodes left T_T I don’t know what I will do when this show ends. (I hope you’re doing well )

omg my kp anon i've missed u so much!!!!

for me i'd always had a hc that kinn had a hard time saying ily to anybody bcs he'd been burned by love in the past so he hated saying it but this show roundhouse kicked that in the face and left me obliterated at the scene this mf is out here shouting it from rooftops to anybody who'll listen good for him

god you know what sends me absolutely feral? kinn casually mentioning his mother to porsche. her death must still be a sore subject for him, nobody talks about it we've hardly had any mention of her and for him to just be like "my mother used to do this for me" god how long has it been since someone's taken care of him like that? and now here's porsche the biggest caretaker in the world just so ready and willing to do everything he can to take care of kinn bcs thats his love language and he loves him sm i just y'all mind if i break the fuck down real fast

pls the kimchay break up!!!! like kimothy i get why you did what you did but that doesn't mean me and tankhun won't beat your ass for it bestie 😔😔 you made the baby cry. like he's literally alread living at the estate, he can't get anymore involved with the mafia, but i guess kim was literally just faced with the reality of porchay being kidnapped because of his ties to the mafia through his brother, and he's probably thinking about how much worse it'll be if he's tied to the mafia through HIM, he's probably thinking about all their enemies and how much of a target it'd make him so he's being a self-sacrificing little shit about it god tankhun needs to hit him with a tray and knock some sense into him

i haven't been that eager about the vp arc yet, im betting that'll probably change in today's ep and next weeks ep 👀 just wanna see pete humble that man so bad, and i dont want vegas to stop being a bad person just bcs he gets with pete ykwim? he's interesting because he's a villain lets keep it that way besties. i do bet he'll get a redemption arc, i've mentioned this to a few people i talk to but with the way things are going it made me wonder if the big shootout at the major family house in the promo where vegas is framed as a big bad is actually misleading and vegas'll be there to help kinn and the major family and maybe put a bullet in his dad's head i just wish him a very big die even if i will miss the dilf 😔

pls dont mention that we only have 3 episodes left pls dont mention that theres only 2 more weeks of kinnporsche or i'll start to eat glass

#kissies for u my kp anon mwah mwah mwah #kp anon #answered #anonymous

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samueltscf · 2 years

Text

Virtual Sketchbook !

Hello, my name is Samuel Tillis and a little known fact about myself is that I took Tae Kwon Do lessons for 5 years and earned my blackbelt!

The art piece that was selected for me was Sagrada Família. These are the five things I learned about the work of art.

1. The Sagrada Familia is still a work in progress and the buildings is still being worked on to this day,

2. Construction was delayed in 1936 because some of the building was raided and burned down during the Spanish civil war.

3. Gaudi is buried in a crypt underneath the building.

4. During construction, there was school classes going on for the constructors children.

5. There are 18 spires to represent the Twelve Apostles, The Virgin Mary, The four Evangelists, and Jesus.

My perspective did change when looking at it again. Looking at it without any research, you'll see a ceiling that is jumbled and rigid, but beautiful, but realizing that the building is under construction, I believe that almost makes it even more special. It shows how much beauty there Is in this project, and even though it isn't complete, it still looks amazing, and that can be said about other aspect in life. Even if you don't think you are whole or complete, there is still beauty that can be found in you and others. I also learned that the theme of the Sagrada Familia is nature, and the painting reminded me of a canopy of trees when I look at it know which also fits the theme the artist was going for!

The art piece from my life that I have decided to talk about is "Christina's World" by Andrew Wyeth.

This painting means many things to me because it was passed down through my family for many years do to how similar my great grandmother looked to Christina in the paintings of her. I love it so much for many reasons but the most would be is how much it reminds me of my old home and it makes me feel like a kid when I look at it every day. I also love the contrast in colors between the bright color of the dress, and the dull brown of the world around Christina. When I see this, it makes me think that no matter how bland or grey the world may be, I can always fin joy and color in myself and not what is around me!

Hello y'all, my name is Samuel Tillis and I come from North Carolina! My gender is male, and my pronouns are he/him. My ethnicity is actually from Lebanon, because my family crossed over to America many years ago, but I still carry many of the genetics that they have in the Middle East, including my black curly hair that I can barely control and my boring brown eyes! I don't really have baggage when it comes to art, and I love to look at it all with an open mind and from all viewpoints. I am a really social person as well and a lot of my free time is spent with friends and family. Im not the best at meeting new people though, so I struggle a lot with making new friends, but if I get to know someone, I really open up to them.

For My self portrait, I chose to put the key to my house as me! Like I said earlier, I am a nice person but it takes a while for me to get used to people. So I chose a key because if you can unlock me, you'll get to see the real me

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x-childish-x · 2 years

Text

Couldn't Compare pt. 2

Request: Yes

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x fem!reader

Fandom: Marvel

Warnings: slight TFAWS spoilers!, mentions of violence, betrayal, ANGST, sadness, slow-burn, mentions to PTSD/trauma

Word Count: 1,180

A/N: OKAY!! I'm sorry!! No happy ending!! (unless... y'all want part 3??) I'm so sorry this took so long for me to do, I know this has been requested many, many times! Anyways, I hope you all enjoy and that you like it! Feedback is always welcome and encouraged! Let me know if you'd like a part 3! Much love, thank you for all the love and support!!

Summary: Bucky's in need of help once more and like always, you're there to help him, but this time you show him some of your feelings.

PART ONE

(gif not mine!)

You hadn't been planning to follow Sam and Bucky back into whatever mess they'd gotten in. You took Bucky home and figured that would be the last you would hear and see of them for a while. After the blip, you'd managed to find a fairly peaceful life outside of being an Avenger. You'd spend your days attending therapy and checking in on Peter Parker. Oddly enough, you found comfort in listening to the boy explain his newest research and findings. Besides Happy, there wasn't anyone involved with the Avengers that had been checking on the boy.

While you might not have gotten a real job nor started back up fighting crime, you immensely enjoyed your small slice of regular life. You'd spent a majority of your time baking, cooking, and donating your time at shelters. So much of your life had been spent fighting the larger threats. Yet you'd forgotten to give to those who'd been hurt in your battle for the world.

That was why, when Sam called you once again, rambling about some explosion and a dead doctor, you told him your doors were always open to him. However, when Sam showed up with Bucky standing right behind him, you could feel your chest constricting, all your progress over the past weeks fading once more. Clearly, Bucky was the one that actually needed help.

You gave Sam a soft smile as you let Bucky in, watching for a second as Sam took off into the air. Turning around, you watched as Bucky looked around your apartment, taking everything in. Without a word, you took off into the kitchen. Bucky followed you silently and sat down when you instructed.

"So... the super-soldier ends up more injured than the human," You forced a smile out, "I'd love to hear this story."

Bucky looked up at you shyly, a slight frown on his face at your gentle teasing, "He can fly away when they swing. I can't."

"Don't worry, Jamie, I'll take care of you."

Bucky could help but smile at the old nickname that slipped from your lips as you grabbed your supplies. You asked questions, and Bucky explained everything to you. He told you all about how they'd gone after some doctor that Zemo ended up killing, and then there was an explosion and lots of fighting afterward, and that was how Bucky ended up here, sitting in your kitchen and asking for your help once again.

You finish stitching his eyebrow with ease and hand him a cold compress. Bucky remains silent as you clean up all your supplies and throw away the bloody gauze. He wants to talk. Bucky wants to say anything, really, but he can't think of what to say, and slight panic fills his body at the idea of you telling him to leave now that you're done.

"It hurts, y'know."

Your voice is soft, so soft that if it wasn't for Bucky's enhanced hearing, you know he wouldn't have heard it. However, Bucky had, and he was immediately standing up, prepared to stop whatever was hurting you. Bucky watched tears fall down your cheeks as you turned.

"It hurts to be near you, yet it's also the only time I feel whole," You choked back a sob as you spoke, "I want to hate you, but I can't. It kills me to be around you, knowing you're with that blonde girl while I sit here still waiting for you!"

Bucky's blue eyes filled with guilt as your voice raised, "(Y/n)..."

"No," You snapped, "I don't want to hear anything, Bucky. We... we were gone, and then we were back and you... you betrayed me. You left and didn't speak to me. I stayed by your side through everything but the moment Steve..." You paused, choking on your tears as your body shook with the heartache, "I had just lost everyone also, and you... you left too. Then Sam's calling me for help, and you have some eye candy... as if... as if I never meant anything."

"No, (Y/n)..."

"I mean some blonde that I've never even seen before! How long did it take to find someone, huh? Two weeks? Two months? I waited for you! I know you, and there's no way you fall in love that quick, Bucky."

"(Y/n)... please."

"No! I gave you everything, and you left me for some blonde girl, and I can't even make myself hate you for it! I still love you! And I... I can't..."

"(Y/N)--"

"You're a traitor, Bucky."

Your words seemed to strike him in the heart as he froze, his head dropping. And despite the war raging in your body, the debate of whether you should help him or leave him, you felt relief finally getting to say this. You felt a weight being lifted off your shoulders as you poured your heart out to Bucky, showing him all the pain he'd put you through.

"I'm sorry."

"The worst part is that no matter how much it hurts to be near you, I never want to leave."

"I'm sorry."

A pitiful laugh broke through your crying, breaking Bucky's heart, "I know you are. I know. But... I already forgave you."

Bucky's head lifted as your fingers placed themselves under his chin. His steel-blue eyes watched you intently, gauging every tiny movement you made as you took a deep breath. You slowly stepped into his chest and wrapped your arms around him, hugging him tightly as tears fell silently down your cheeks. The shaking of your shoulders tore Bucky to shreds as he dropped into a chair, pulling you into his chest as you sobbed.

His arms wrapped around you like a safety blanket, encasing you in all their muscle and strength, reminding you of all the times he held you like this before. After missions, when you heard about all the people you hurt, after a stressful day of training, after being heckled in public. The list was endless, and you clutched onto his shirt tightly, allowing yourself to relish in the moment of painful silence.

After seconds, minutes, hell maybe even an hour, you weren't entirely sure. You pried yourself away from Bucky and wiped underneath your eyes. A sniffle filled the air as you walked out of the kitchen, the sound of Bucky's boots alerting you that he was following you.

The door handle was cold in your hand, a welcomed grip to reality as you pulled open the door. Keeping your eyes down, you couldn't bear to see Bucky's expression as you tried to even out your breathing.

"Goodbye, Jamie."

He left silently, the sound of his boots trotting down your porch letting you know it was safe to shut the door. Like finishing a chapter, the sound of the lock clicking tore a sob from your chest. Breaking down all over again, you sank to the floor, cries echoing throughout your empty house. And as much as it destroyed you to say goodbye to Bucky... the pain of losing him and being around him, they just couldn't compare.

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pregnant-piggy · 3 years

Text

The Crow’s Nest

The Crows x reader

words: 12.1k

warnings: underage drinking, fire, character death, guns

A/N: am I slowly indoctrinating you with my pirate obsession? perhaps... ;) this is based on a dream I had while reading the first book and it wouldn’t leave me until I had written it. Let me know what you think of it! <3

translations (part real languages, part fictional):

Teufel -- devil

Fortell meg -- tell me

Jer elsker pe -- I love you

Faen -- fuck, damn

Goede morgen -- good morning

The grey waves hit against the hull of The Teufel, rocking the ship back and forth in the restless water. The howling wind creeped around every corner, finding even the warmest spots to cool the air and sparing no one from its breeze. The old sails fluttered in the force of the wind and loud slaps could be heard whenever the canvas hit against the mast. Little raindrops were falling from the sky, creating a layer of damp on everything in the open.

Thunder sounded far away in the sky, back in the open sea, but The Teufel was going the other way. Kerch was approaching steadily and if the winds didn’t turn suddenly, the ship would reach land before the sun had fully set.

The coastline of Ketterdam, the city The Teufel would arrive at, was peculiar with its high buildings and built-up streets. The lights of the city lit up the sky like an orange halo in the darkening heavens.

You leaned with two arms on the railing of the ship, watching the city approach over the water. Behind you the strongest members of the crew were working on the sails, steering the schooner into the right direction. You listened to the shouts and orders with half an ear, imagining what the city of Ketterdam would be like and where you would go after the ship had moored. Unlike many of the older ones in the crew you had never been to Kerch before. In the last two years The Teufel hadn’t gotten close to the island, finding enough profit near the coasts of Novyi Zem. Three weeks ago, however, the captain had ordered to turn the sails and head South, much to your delight.

Your entire life you had heard stories about Kerch. When you were very little, you had asked your grandmother over and over again to tell you about her trips to Ketterdam. Though you had been too young to understand most of what her stories meant, you had adored how your grandma was able to take you to a different world with her words only. It was a gift that you most admired and one that she had passed on to you.

Your parents passed away in a futile attempt to protect the town against the brutality of the land’s council. You had been just seven years old and the surviving neighbours hadn’t known what to do with you, so you had been sent to a boarding school in the countryside. Far away from the danger of the city they’d said, but you had known it was just to get rid of you. You had grown up in a strict environment, in a house full of stern teachers and meek children. But even there you hadn’t forgotten about your grandmother’s stories. Although the students thought you were odd, they would all gather around you in the sleeping hall after midnight when the teachers were to bed and you would tell them a story the same way your grandma had told them to you.

The older you had gotten the more trouble you’d seemed to cause. Obeying the rules had soon proven not to be something for you, at least not when you thought the rules were useless. With every year you’d grown older, you had found more ways to plant mischief. The punishments had gotten harder every time but you had refused to bend to their rules. Eventually they had been the one to give up and they had kicked you out of the school. At the age of fourteen you had been a homeless orphan only good for trouble.

For weeks you had travelled on your own and you had ended up at the harbour, where you had stumbled upon The Teufel. At first the captain had refused to take you on; he had no use for a child. It had been your talent to speak Kerch, Ravkan and a little bit of Fjerdan that had gotten you on board the ship that would become your new home.

For the past two years you had travelled along with the crew, learning to live on the ocean. Not a moment you had regretted your decision. The crew had accepted you as part of their family. The captain, Nerseh, had taken you on as his own daughter, learning you the tricks of maintaining a crew. Mayranoush, the quartermaster, was a strict woman who had at first scared you because she had seemed to be so much like your teachers at the boarding school. After a while you had gotten used to her, however, and it was from her that you had learnt how to shoot and how to read people’s faces like an open book. From the sailing master you learned how to read maps and the gunners had tried to teach you how to aim, but you had never mastered that skill. Stefan had taught you how to fight with a sword, Marina taught you the ropes and Hai learned you basic first aid and other cures that were necessary in combat.

In two years you had learned enough to make yourself useful on the ship and you had grown from just their translator to a valuable member of the crew. The Teufel was your home and you could not think of a better place for you.

“Are you excited?” Stefan stood next to you and followed your gaze to the skyline of Ketterdam.

You tore your eyes from the city and looked at the big blond man with his bright blue eyes. When you first stepped on the ship he was the first one of the crew to approach you and you had been surprised by the Fjerdan’s conviviality. Your teachers had always taught you that the people from Fjerda were cold and distant. But ten minutes spent in Stefan’s company proved all of that wrong. He had guided you in your first weeks and now he was your best friend, and your first friend.

“I am,” you nodded. “I’ve been dreaming about this place since I was a toddler. I can’t wait to see what it's like.”

Stefan smiled at you and leaned down on the railing next to you, his arm against yours. A warm feeling washed over you and sparkles shot through your upper body. The wind had died down to a light breeze and your hair wavered behind your neck as the wind blew directly into your face. A scent of smoke, burned sugar and oil filled your nose and you closed your eyes, taking in the smell and registering the different scents. This was the essence that your grandmother had talked about and now you were experiencing it yourself.

When you opened your eyes you noticed that Stefan was watching you intently. You smiled and raised one arm from the railing so you could turn to him. He wanted to say something to you, you could see it in his face. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” he stammered, his pale cheeks blossoming red immediately.

“Fortell meg, Fjerdan,” you ordered Stefan to tell you and, though you didn’t think it was possible, his cheeks got even redder.

The big, blushing man looked away from you and cleared his throat. His gaze was pointed at his feet and then he turned it to the horizon. The wind was playing with the blond curls of his hair, that looked golden in the light of the setting sun. He cleared his throat again and then he mumbled something.

“I can’t hear you, doofus,” you laughed and nudged your shoulder against Stefan’s arm. “A little louder, please.”

Stefan sighed and turned his head to look at you. He took a deep breath and placed his hand on your upper arm. The feeling of his warm hand on your bare arm made your heart flutter. Your lips parted and you sucked in a little breath.

“Jer elsker pe,” Stefan whispered. I love you.

Your heart stopped. The pulse in your chest disappeared for a moment and when your heart beat again, it did twice as hard. Stefan was no Heartrender but you were sure he could hear your heartbeat too.

“Stefan, I—” you started, taking Stefan’s other hand in yours.

However before you could go on, Captain Nerseh appeared from his hut and started shouting over the main deck. “Stefan! I need you up front!” Nerseh said and he walked to the forecastle deck, ordering the rest of the crew on his way. Stefan was still standing in front of you, your hands holding his but his face turned to the captain. This one turned around. “Now, please!”

The Fjerdan let go of you and hurried away, leaving you on your own. You held onto the railing for support as you felt your weight shift to your legs. All the excitement you had felt just mere minutes ago had now completely vanished and you looked around panicky. Not even a lifetime on sea could have prepared you for that.

-=-=-

The Jolly Roger was changed for a neutral flag with the colours of Novyi Zem and The Teufel navigated into the Fifth Harbour of Ketterdam. Once the anchor had been lowered and the ship lay still, a small party was sent out to get stock while the others were free to go wherever they wanted.

Stefan was sent with the quartermaster, Mayranoush, and Hai for food and ammunition and he was off the schooner before you could follow him. You watched him leave the Harbour, standing on the main deck. His blonde hair shone in the last rays of sunshine and he was visible for a long time, until his figure disappeared in the bigger crowd. Gone before you could talk to him.

“I want y'all back at twelve bells,” Captain Nerseh said and he waved the rest of the crew off.

Hesitantly you walked off The Teufel onto the docks. The first few steps were wobbly and uneven, as it had been a few weeks since you had last walked on land, but after shaking your feet and legs, you got used to walking again. Those familiar tingles, that you always got when walking on shore after so long on sea, shot through your legs and you were filled with a mix of anxiety and excitement.

Here on land the scent was even stronger, luring you into the streets. You glanced back at The Teufel over your shoulder and shrugged off the uneasy feeling you got at the thought of leaving your home behind in the harbour. Pulling up your boots a little, you turned away and stepped into the city, finally experiencing what you had dreamed of for so long.

The streets of Ketterdam were unlike any other place you had ever been. Big crowds of tourists and inhabitants were moving as one through the small streets of the Lid. Men, women and children all walked through each other, barely taking notice of the persons passing them. The lights coming through the shop windows casted yellow and white shapes on the cobblestoned ground, with which the shadows of the people danced.

You followed the crowd into the buzzing parts of town, falling in step with the other tourists. Many years ago your grandmother had told you that the Lid was filled with gambling houses and it was the place where the most tourists stuck around. And indeed, as you walked on the crowd gradually got thinner with people leaving right and left to fall into the temptation of the colourful buildings decorated with bright lights. Faint music combined with the loud chatter of people in all languages hung in the salty air, like a blanket that was thrown over this part of the city.

However, all that you could think of was Stefan’s face and his words. Jer elsker pe. In a haze you walked through the busy streets, hearing Stefan’s voice over and over in your head. His touch was imprinted on your skin, the place where his hand had been was burning hot on your arm.

You had known, that was the worst part. For a few weeks you had known. You had sensed it whenever he was looking at you or when he was touching you. The look on his face was different from before. There had been a softness on the Fjerdan’s face that hadn’t been there before. A weakness. It was an undeliberate thought, but it made its way in your mind anyway. If the past ten years of your life had taught you one thing it was that you had to hide your weaknesses. From enemies and friends.

It had been a particular hot night at the boarding school and you hadn’t been able to sleep. That day a new girl had arrived at the school and she’d sat down next to you at breakfast. Many of the others had scowled at her but she had ignored them and instead introduced herself as Lotty. It was the first time that someone had voluntarily come to you and the rest of the day you had spent getting Lotty familiar with the school and its surroundings.

You’d heard the girl stirring next to you and padded over to her. Upon seeing your face, a smile had spread on Lotty’s face and you had whispered: “Want to get out of here?”

Very cautiously you and Lotty had left the sleeping hall and on your toes you had run through the empty corridors of the school building. All the teachers had been asleep already and the big clock in the hall had showed that it was two hours after midnight.

The front door had opened with a small squeak and the dark night air had welcomed you and Lotty outside. The gardens of the boarding school surrounded the entire building with grass, flowers and low bushes. A sweet, humid scent had hung in the air, the result of the sun that had shone on the flowers all day.

You and Lotty had sat down in the middle of a flower bed and you had told her about everything. For the first time in your life you’d felt like you had a friend and you had trusted her with some of the secrets you knew about the school’s building. For hours you two had sat outside, until the sun had started to rise and the petals of the flowers had started to collect the morning humidity. As you had gotten up, you’d put your hand on the ground to push yourself up and you felt something crawl under your palm. You had squealed and stumbled back quickly, staring in disgust at the place where you had put your hand. There on the ground a thick spider had quickly crawled away under the flowers.

Lotty’d started to laugh and you had scolded her. Spiders had always scared you and no matter how much you’d tried to get over it, whenever you saw one you couldn’t help but shudder.

Back at the sleeping hall you had fallen into a restless sleep for the last few hours, dreaming of a thousand legs and jaws. When you’d woken up, Lotty hadn’t been there and at breakfast she had sat with the other children, not with you.

The next morning you had woken up with something crawling up your arm and the sound of laughter.

And now Stefan had shown you his weakness. Though you would never use it against him like Lotty had done to you, there was something that bothered you now you knew his weakness. What if unintentionally you would cause him trouble or danger?

“Watch where you’re going!” a man sneered and he roughly pushed past you.

You shook your head out of your thoughts and looked around. The bright gambling dens had been replaced by small, tall and crooked houses made by all different sorts of bricks and wooden beams for support. The streets were still busy but this was a different crowd. People with comical masks and cloaks moved in little groups, quickly and rushed, as if they were afraid someone would stop them. A few people wore gaudy suits and moved proudly over the streets, their hands in their pockets. The others wore more ragged clothes in dark colours and they walked with their heads down to the ground.

You were in the Barrel, undoubtedly. The gambling houses were still there, but more scattered. Still they weren’t much different from the ones on the Lid; a lot of dramatic lightning and flashing colours, all so that the most people would come in.

The East Stave was on your left. You had refused ever to step foot near the brothels on the West Stave. The horrid stories that your grandmother had told you had already been enough to keep you away and the rumours you had heard from the crew on The Teufel had only added to that.

Your legs were getting tired from walking so much and the unnerving thoughts were still whirling through your head. On The Teufel you would have searched for Stefan and gotten drunk with him hidden somewhere on the deck, but Stefan wasn’t here and The Teufel was far back in the harbour. So instead you searched for the least ostentatious building and eventually settled on a gambling club called the Crow Club.

A silver crow hung over the entrance of the club and you looked up to it as you walked under it, entering the building. You stepped into a big hall that was parted in two by a lowered floor in the back. The black lacquered walls had no windows and all sense of night and day was lost as soon as you stepped inside. The little clock around your neck told you it was little after ten bells. That meant that you had one hour and a half before you had to go back.

You sat on one of the crimson stools at the bar and ordered a drink from the man behind it. He eyed you for a moment and you noticed he was contemplating whether to give someone your age a drink, but he seemed to decide that profit is profit and poured you a drink. You watched him while he worked for a moment. He was not as old as you had thought him to be. The only wrinkles in his face were near the corners of his mouth and the cracks next to his eyes. His skin was dark bronze and his hair pitch black, almost like the walls around him. And what he lacked in height he seemed to be making up in strength, as his arms were muscular and he looked strong enough to throw a man twice his size out of the place.

The drink burned in your throat, but you threw it all in anyway. For a moment your gullet was on fire and the next moment it was gone. The years among a group of adult pirates had learned you how to take your drinks.

You asked the bartender for another and you didn’t miss the surprise on his face, but turned the other way, looking at the parlor around you. Most of the tables in the lower part of the room were occupied by a variety of people. In the left corner of the room sat a couple, their feet entangled under the table, but their eyes fanatically looking at the other.

At a table closer to you sat a woman in a bright red dress with feathers in her hair. From your place you could see the cards in her hand and if you stretched your neck a little you could also see the cards of her neighbour. The table was playing Ridderspel, a simple card game played with the lower numbers of the cards. It was a game to make little money quickly and one of the most played card games in gambling houses everywhere.

The woman had two sevens, an eight and a four of the crow-marked cards in her hand and she pushed forward four little red chips when the dealer asked to place the bets. Her neighbour pushed forward two grey chips and the man opposite of her one grey and one red one. The dealer collected the chips and stacked them in the middle of the table.

On The Teufel you had played many games of Ridderspel with the crew. However, after a while they had banned you from playing games for money. It hadn’t taken long for you to see connections between the faces of people and their cards. You could see a pattern in the order they played their cards and knew after showing the first card of the game who would win.

It had started with Ridderspel. One dark night under the light of a lantern you had been playing the game with Stefan and two others of the crew, Vinay and Cilka, when you had noticed that whenever Cilka got her cards the lightest frown would form on her face if she didn’t get good cards. It was invisible to anyone else, but you saw how her eyebrows would twitch shortly. You knew that everyone had their tells, some more obvious than others, but after that night you had searched the others’ signs. Vinay’s shoulders would slump a little if he had bad cards and Stefan’s eyes would flicker shortly over the table if his cards were good.

After you had learned their signs, you’d noticed that there was a pattern in the way they played their cards. If they had bad cards, they played the highest first, hoping to at least get a little out of the game. If they had good cards, they would hold their highest cards for the end, but they wouldn’t play their lowest card first either. It was a complicated strategy, a difficult trick on your mind, but after months of examining the game, both playing and from afar, you found the pattern. From there on it wasn’t difficult to find the patterns in other games and soon you were banned from playing games on the entire ship.

However, whenever you were on land and there was a gambling house in the city, the crew would often ask you if you could just play some games so they could get some money. You knew that with you playing at the table the game wasn’t fair anymore, but you would do it night after night if that meant you could do something for your crew.

Now, you knew that the woman in red had a good chance of winning the game. She tapped her fingers on her thigh and kept staring at her cards. So much for a bluffing face. The dealer asked to play the first card and the woman threw one of her sevens on the table. Not the highest and not the lowest. Her neighbours answered by throwing an eight and a five.

The next round was played and now the woman played her four, receiving another eight and a seven. She is playing out her opponents. If they wanted to win, they would have to change the course, but you feared it was already too late for them. The woman threw her eight on the table and the others a seven and a five. The last card was played and at her seven, the woman got a six and a four.

As the dealer started to count the points you turned away; you didn’t need to count the points to know that the woman in the red dress had won the game.

“Another one, please,” you said to the barman in Kerch and he nodded at you. Curiosity could be read off his face even by those who didn’t have your talent of understanding facial expressions.

When he gave you your glass his eyes lingered on your clothes and you realised how idiotic you must look in this environment. Though the people in the hall weren’t all wearing evening dresses or three-piece suits, you knew that someone in a black jacket and leather boots to their knees would stand out. Consciously you stroke a hand over the braids in your hair and looked at the bartender.

“Don’t worry,” he said as he noticed your looks. “Many tourists come dressed up.”

You tilted your head to the side and hesitated telling him the truth. Figuring there wouldn’t come much trouble from doing so, you sat up and shook your head. “These are my normal clothes.”

The barkeeper cocked an eyebrow and then went on with cleaning the glasses. You stared at the brown liquid in your glass before you knocked it back and softly placed your glass back on the bar. The movement caught the attention of the man behind the bar and he lifted the bottle, silently asking if you wanted another one.

“Sure,” you answered and pushed your glass forward.

The way the man filled the glass reminded you of how Stefan used to fill your glass. While you preferred to drink straight from the bottle, he would always insist on taking glasses from the galley.

“We can at least pretend we’re fancy,” he’d say, as you were hidden in the shadows of the back of the ship.

A faint smile played on your lips as you thought back of Stefan, but your inside burned as you heard his last words back in your head. Jer elsker pe. The truth was that you weren’t quite sure if you loved Stefan back. He had always been close to you and you appreciated him being such a good friend to you, but you didn’t love him the way he loved you. At least, that’s what you thought. You had never really experienced love before, so how could you know what it felt like?

“Maybe you should slow on those,” the bartender said as you placed yet another empty glass on the bar.

“No,” you rasped, fighting the burn in your throat. “I’ve had worse.”

“I can stop giving you, y’know?” the man said as you lifted your glass again for another.

“And not get paid? You wouldn’t.”

The barkeeper laughed and poured you another glass. This time you didn’t immediately drink it all, but you turned around on your stool and looked at the biggest table on the floor. It was an oval-shaped table, lined with the same crimson of the seat you were sitting on, and around it sat seven people. Dice lay in the middle of the table, surrounded by grey, black and red chips and a stack of cards.

Even in the noise of the other tables and people walking between them, the conversations at the big table were clear.

“You’re bluffing!” the man on the right shouted. He was big in all aspects someone could be big. The hems of his trousers were too high up his legs and the sleeves of his jacket were too short. The golden buttons of his blouse were about to burst and his hat kept sliding off his head because it didn’t fit well. His appearance was only mimicked more by his dark red cheeks and the little drops of sweat that were rolling down his face.

“Am not,” the lanky, dark brown man on the other side of the table said. He had a wicked grin on his handsome face and seemed to be in his element. His feet were lying on the edge of the table and he held his cards loosely in his hand, like they were to fall any moment.

“How could you—? You don’t— No one—” the big man started and the colour drained from his face. You had missed what the beginning of the conversation was, but surely it was not something the big man wanted to come out.

“Maybe you should try to keep such information to yourself,” the tall guy said. “Now, are you in or out?”

The surrounding men at the table nervously shifted in their seats as they looked at the big man. He patted his head with a silk handkerchief and stared at his cards for a moment. A new set of sweat seemed to pour over his forehead and eventually he threw his cards open on the table. ‘I’m out.’

The man got up from the table and he hurried away, followed by the other five men. They walked past you in a queue outside and when they were all gone, the guy at the table smiled pleased.

“He was bluffing,” you noted, after taking a quick glance at the cards that were lying open on the table.

“What?” the barman asked, who had watched the play with you, and you were reminded that you were not alone.

A warm rush spread in your cheeks and you turned your head to the bartender. “That guy was bluffing to scare the man away.”

The man squeezed his eyes at you and said a little too late: “Why’d you think that?”

“Look at the cards on the table,” you said and peered back at the big table. “That man on the left had two of the highest and the person two seats from him had another. I can’t see the cards on this side of the table, but whatever they are, this guy can never have enough to win.”

The barman looked at you for a few seconds. “How do you know?”

You looked out over the hall, scanning the games on other tables. “You learn things,” you shrugged and then nodded to a little table closer by. “See that guy? How he is glancing between his cards and the dealer’s hands?” The barkeeper leaned forward over the bar and looked at where you were pointing. “He has good cards and is trying not to let anyone notice it.”

The man leaned back from the bar and filled your glass without you even asking. He rested one hand on the bar and looked at you. “Where did you learn that?”

“Well, you have to do something on a ship,” you said, swirling the drink. “Eventually staring at the stars all night gets a bit boring.”

The barman snorted laughingly. “You’re from a ship?” Then he looked at your outfit again and he nodded. “Now that makes a lot more sense,” he mumbled. “When did you arrive?”

“About an hour ago,” you answered and pulled the clock from your blouse.

Meanwhile, the handsome guy from the big table walked to the bar and he greeted the bartender as he sat down one seat away from you. You looked at him from the corner of your eye and stopped at the guns on his hips. The clock lowered without you realising and you gave up on trying to hide your stare.

The two pearl-handled guns shone in the light from above and you shook your head in disbelief. Zemini-made revolvers were rare, and you would know. You had heard stories about them from your mates on The Teufel, but none of them had ever even had one in their hands. Only Nerseh in his younger years had owned one, but he had lost it in a battle. The Zemini guns were feared among your crew and there were two of them right next to you now.

“See anything you like, darling?” the guy asked and your eyes shot from his revolvers to his face. He had that same mischievous smile on his lips and there was a glimmer in his eyes as he raised his eyebrow at you.

“Those are pretty rare guns,” you said, ignoring the guy’s suggestive tone.

He took one of the revolvers from the holster and let it twirl in his fingers. Though you didn’t want to, you felt a shiver run down your spine at the ease with which the boy handled his guns. You had gotten quite familiar with your own guns, but you had yet to learn that.

The boy must have seen your googling eyes because he smiled a bit more real now and said: “I know, Zemini-made. You don’t find that very oft—”

“Faen!” you interrupted in Fjerdan, using the word that you had heard Stefan say so often. You had looked at your watch and realised that it was much later than you had thought it was. It was already a quarter till midnight and it would take you at least twenty minutes to get back to the harbour. You jumped from your seat, threw some coins on the bar and straightened your coat, mumbling: “Stupid windowless walls…”

Without sparing another look at the two guys you left behind you stormed out of the Crow Club into the street. Rain was pouring down from the sky and you shivered at the sudden cold. For a second you looked around and scanned your surroundings and then you hurried off in the direction you had come from.

People passed you in a blur of colours and shadows as you ran over the streets, desperately trying to find a way back to the harbour. The captain wouldn’t appreciate you being late and it would most likely cause you a night scrubbing the deck on a night you actually had been free. But perhaps Stefan would accompany you.

Your mind automatically seemed to find a way to think of your best friend. The situation in the gambling hall had taken your mind off him for a minute but now your logical senses were numbed by the alcohol the Fjerdan was back again. Stefan could’ve easily found his way back. The boy could find a route almost everywhere, even in a place you had never been before. He would just follow the direction of the sun or look at the leaves on a tree and know where you were.

But Stefan wasn’t there to guide you back. He was probably already back at The Teufel, waiting impatiently on you.

Every alley looked the same and all the gambling houses had the same flashy lights. You didn’t know if you were moving forward or just running in circles. Somewhere above in the sky you heard the twelve bells that told you you had to be back already. With the feeling you had passed the house on the corner of the street three times before, you ran on, ignoring the protesting people if you ran into them. You almost fell over your own feet and nearly stumbled into a girl dressed all in dark clothes.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, pushing away from her softly but when you turned around to her she was nowhere to be seen on the street. You were too much in a hurry to worry about that and ran on, sighing in relief when you saw the fluorescent lights from the Lid.

The Lid was filled with more people than the Barrel you ran from and it was harder to manage a way through. You pushed and threw yourself between people, growing a little nauseous from the smell of so many bodies together combined with the smells that came from the kitchens around. As you hurried through the tourists, your breath was high in your throat and you could feel your heart beating in your head. Heavy breaths fell over your lips but you refused to take a moment to rest.

The glittery lanes were soon exchanged for the dark open space of the harbour. The cobblestones echoed the sounds of your footsteps as you ran. People shot you weird looks as you raced past them.

The closer you came to where The Teufel lay, the busier it became, but instead of searching for a reason you just hoped that you could still make it past them. However, the crowd became too big for you to run as fast as you had and you slowed your pace slightly. You zigzagged between people and pushed them aside, getting various insults thrown at your head. As you came closer to the inner circle of the crowd, you realised that they weren’t just randomly standing there; they were standing around The Teufel.

You stopped running completely and approached the busiest part of the crowd at walking pace. Now you weren’t focusing on your own thoughts you heard that the people were all muttering and talking with each other—and that the people closer to the water were screaming and shouting.

The few people that stood in between you and your destination you pushed aside softly and the closer you got the more you felt a strange heat on your face. When the woman in front of you stepped aside, your jaw dropped.

There, in the water, right where it had been when you left earlier this night, lay The Teufel completely in flames. Not a single part of the main deck had been spared, flames were reaching high up in the sky, eating the masts like a monstrous creature. Thick dark grey clouds hung above the ship in the dark blue night sky. The flames curled around the hull of The Teufel, like a devil claiming its prey. Wooden walls collapsed, iron melted and ropes caught fire, sending the flames up to destroy the crow’s nest.

Among the chaos on the shore and the sound of the fire, all you could think about was one thing. My family. The shouting and cackling couldn’t drown out the screams of terror that came from the belly of the ship. Cries for help, prayers to all gods and saints. Your crew was in there. Your people were inside of a burning ship. Your friends and family. They were all trapped.

It could have been you. If you hadn’t lost track of time, you would’ve been there with them. You would have arrived before the twelve bells, gone inside with the others and would be trapped in there now. It could have been you, but instead it was your crew. And you didn’t know what was worse.

There was nothing you could do. No way to run on the ship and free your mates without catching fire yourself. No way to stop that fire that was capturing The Teufel. No human could do it, no grisha either. This was more than an accidental fire, this was controlled. Don’t fight a bigger power without knowing its weaknesses. It was a phrase your father would say to you whenever you had been mad at the world as a child. The advice he had ignored before he had gone to fight his way into death. You didn’t know what the fire’s weaknesses were, if there were any weaknesses at all. All you could do was stand on the shore with your hands clasped over your chest and your eyes stuck on what had once been The Teufel. What had once been your home.

The screams of the crew were engraving themselves in your mind, cutting you open and leaving deep wounds. The last bit of your hope had been left behind on that ship and was now burning away, leaving nothing but a hollow chest.

Time passed by as you stood on the shore, watching the last remains of your home falling apart. You didn’t look away when the fire burst through the portholes in the hull of the ship and you didn’t flinch as you heard the last sounds you would ever hear from your crewmates. You took it all in, soaked your mind in the pain, feeling the shock and terror making place for fury. One day, you promised yourself. One day you would find a way to get revenge.

You knew that in a city like this news would spread fast. Surely before sunrise all the people in Ketterdam would know of the ship that had burned away in Fifth Harbour. You wouldn’t be safe; not from the questions of the people and not from whoever had done this. You were sure that they wouldn’t be too keen on having missed someone from the crew before they blew it up. Chances were big that, if anyone ever found out that you had belonged to The Teufel, your days would be numbered.

Fortunately you hadn’t told anyone you were part of The Teufel’s crew. Anyone but the barman at the Crow Club. You hadn’t literally told him, but you were sure he could put two and two together.

Once the fire had been settled and the ashes of the wood were only still smoldering, you straightened your back. You would find the barman and ask him not to tell anyone. Or perhaps you would find your ending in the streets of the Barrel. The Teufel had been your home for two years, but it was time to get moving.

-=-=-

The Crow Club stood proudly in front of you. Rain was running down your face, following the lines of your neck into your blouse. You were cold and your entire body was shaking but you knew that was more from the shock than the rain. In the back of your head you still heard the screams but you tried to block them out as you stepped to the gambling house.

As you walked closer to the entrance, a boy stepped in front of the door, blocking your way. He was huge with arms full of tattoos and a mouth full of crooked teeth, some of them missing, and when you approached him you realised he was watching you. He expected me. This guy had been waiting for you, he had known that you would come back. How could he?

Hesitating you went forward. You had already seen the gun on his belt and you were quite sure if you turned around and walked away he wouldn’t be afraid to use it. In front of the boy you stopped and leaned to the side to look inside the building.

“I’m sorry, could I go inside?” you asked, your voice mellow and innocent. “I would really like to warm up a little.”

The man just tilted his head to the side and his lips turned into a stupid grin. His hand rested casually on his gun, though you knew that all his moves had been precisely calculated. Whether by himself or someone’s orders was your next guess.

“You better follow me,” the boy said and his eyes glassily looked at you.

“Do I have a choice then?”

“No.” The man took his gun from his belt and easily pointed it to your chest. If he shot now he wouldn’t kill you, just harm you. So he wants me alive.

“Fine, fine,” you mumbled and lifted your arms in the air to show you were defenceless.

The guy roughly pushed you away from the door and held the barrel to your back as he led you away from the Crow Club.

You weren’t sure why the boy didn’t just put a bullet through your head. If he was part of whoever had burned down The Teufel, why would he want you to stay alive? The rest had been murdered mercilessly, what did they have in mind for you?

However, if he wasn’t not part of the fire, why did he want to have you at all? You couldn’t think of anything you had done wrong or of any danger you could be. You were pretty much just a harmless teen in a strange city.

The man pushed you through the street and over a bridge. You made a few turns into small alleys and streets, passing houses in all shapes and kinds. Behind some windows flickered a soft light, others were dark. You heard screaming from one house and music from the house next to it. Laughter of children and cursing from adults.

You stopped in front of a house that looked exactly like all the others; crippled and on the brink of collapse. The guy held his gun to you as he kicked open the door and then pressed the barrel deeper in your back to make you walk. Slowly you passed over the threshold and stood still in the hall of the house.

Much different from what you had expected, the inside of the house was not damaged like the outside. While the colours and construction did look old, the house was built to survive for longer than just a few years.

“Up,” the man mumbled and he nodded to the stairs.

You followed his order and headed up the stairs, feeling your legs ache from all the walking on land you had done in the past hours. Though you got used quite fast to the difference, a sudden change from sea to shore did have its effects on your body. Especially if you crossed an entire city twice in one night.

The staircase led to a landing with many doors. The house wasn’t particularly big and with that many doors, you figured the rooms must be small. You wondered what this house was used for. It almost had the feeling of a hostel, but there wouldn’t be many guests if putting a gun to someone’s head was their way of advertising.

“That room,” said the guy and he gestured at one of the doors in the corridor.

The wooden planks creaked under the weight of your body. The door of the room was closed and the man with the gun knocked on it with much more restraint than you expected from someone who had just abducted you from the streets.

It was silent for a moment as you and the man waited for the door to open. Your heart was beating in your throat and you swallowed deeply. Nerves were running through your body, sending tingles down to your fingertips.

The door opened and before you had time to look inside, the guy pushed you inside and closed the door again behind you. You were inside a small room, with a bed, a chair and a closet that put half the room in shadows. On the wall opposite of the door was a little window, showing the side of another building that stood next to the house. The window reminded you of the portholes inside the hold of a ship, your least favourite place as there was very little light.

However, the room didn’t have much space in your mind as your attention was caught by the person in the room. He could not be much older than you yet it felt like this boy had more character than an old man. His face was hidden in the shadows but you could make out the hard lines framed by sleek black hair. His eyes shone like emeralds under his dark brows and there was a malicious glance in them when they rested on you.

“Sit,” he spoke and the rock salt rasp of his voice sent shivers down your spine. “Please.”

You sat down on the simple wooden chair in the middle of the room, though you rather would’ve kept standing. The boy was towering over you now, standing in front of you, leaning on his cane. Your eyes slid to the silver handle under his gloved hands. It had the shape of a crow’s head.

“Who are you?” you asked, trying to calm the nerves you felt rushing through you. You weren’t necessarily afraid of the boy, but you also couldn’t deny the unease in your body.

The boy cocked his head to the side and the smallest wicked grin played on his lips. “An hour ago a ship was set ablaze in Fifth Harbour,” the boy said and you looked away from his stern gaze. “The Teufel. A rather bold way of naming a ship, after the devil, isn’t it? Nothing is left of The Teufel, no plank, no crewmate. Or at least, so is said. That is why you are here, not y/n?”

Your head snapped up to the boy and your eyes narrowed at him. “You know my name?”

“I know lots, y/n, and your name happens to be on that list,” the boy said and it was a little harder for him to hide his smirk. He’s enjoying it, you realised in disbelief. This is what he’s trained for. “I also know that you are the only living crewmate and that you visited my club this evening.”

“Your club?” You frowned—he seemed way too young to have a successful gambling club.

“Yes, my club,” the boy repeated and he shifted his weight, letting a sigh fall from his lips. “You sat at the bar and ordered more drinks in two hours than an average adult would in four hours.”

You looked back at your feet. You knew you had trouble staying away from the drinks, but that didn’t make it any nicer when someone pointed it out. At sea it had never really mattered—the others had drunk with you and as long as you did your duties successfully the captain didn’t care if you were sober or not.

“You spoke with no one and just watched the games, until my barman got some information out of you,” the boy went on and you felt his gaze on you. “He said you were able to determine the outcome of the game after just the first card was played.”

“So?” you shrugged. Surely that was not why the boy had gotten you there and it was definitely not something that was on your mind right now. All you could think of were the screams and the longer you sat in the dark room, the more cramped it became.

“Can you?”

“I don’t see how—”

“Answer the question.” His voice was hard and cold, but laced with curiosity that he failed to hide from you.

“I guess I can, yes.”

The boy stayed silent for a while and the tension in the room reached for your throat. You had never been one for small rooms, that’s why you had chosen for the sea. And now the anxiety of all that had happened that night was piling up on your chest, like someone pressing down on you. The walls were closing in on you, leaving you gasping for breath. Your clothes were still wet and your hair stuck to your forehead and neck, but you were no longer cold.

You clenched your hands around the fabric of your blouse, feeling it crumple between your fingers. But even in your panicked state you could see the change in demeanor in the boy. He planned this. He had known this would happen, he had deliberately put you in this room, knowing what it would do to you.

“What do you want from me?” you breathed, looking up to meet his eyes, and then added with an intensity you didn’t know was in you: “Did you kill them?”

The hard expression on the boy’s face fell for a moment as he looked at you. For a minute he turned into a boy his age, someone with a soul. “I promise you I didn’t kill them. I had nothing to do with the fire.” Then he straightened his back and slammed his cane on the floor, pulling himself out of the moment. “I have business. We’ll continue in the morning.”

The boy limped to the door and the cane suddenly made more sense. He pulled the door open and stepped through it when you interrupted him.

“Who are you?”

He looked over his shoulder and casted a dark glance at your figure. You had stood up from your chair and were still holding onto the back for balance. There was an expression on his face that you couldn’t read and you feared that it wouldn’t be the last time that happened.

“Kaz Brekker. Nice to make your acquaintance.”

-=-=-

The mattress you were lying on was lumpy and hard, forcing your back to straighten in a way it never had to. The blanket was itchy and heavy and pressed hard on your chest, not allowing you to take deep breaths.

You were shifting in and out of sleep, unable to tell reality from imagination. One moment you were staring at the dark ceiling above you, the next you were sitting alone in the hold of The Teufel. The room around you moved in front of your eyes, the shadows dancing on the walls. In the ship, water slowly rose around you. You tried to get up, tried to run away, but it was as if you were glued to the floor. Unable to move you sat waiting for the rising water to reach for your throat.

Something moved in the room. It was a flicker of a shadow in the corner of your eye but enough for you to notice. You forced your eyes open, but the water was rising so quickly it was impossible for you to focus on anything else. The water level was at your jaw now. You took a final breath and the shadow in the room moved again. Closing your eyes against the water, it rose above your nose.

Then there was more movement. The shadow was coming closer to you, moving with the grace of a cloud.

Feeling the water on your face, you opened your eyes and shot up in the bed. The water disappeared and you were in the dark room again, shaking and coughing. Yet the threat wasn’t gone; the shadow was still in the corner.

You shifted to the side and rested your back against the cold wall, looking at the shadow in anticipation. While your heart was beating in your throat, you calmly looked ahead of you until the shadow moved from the corner.

“How did you see me?” the shadow asked and you shrugged.

“You move like a spider.” And I’m afraid of spiders.

Out of the shadows stepped a young girl, hidden in a flowy cloak that moved along with her. The lack of light threw a veil over the room, covering it with a black and white filter, but still you could make out the brown skin of the girl and her almost black eyes, that were staring right at you.

“What are you doing here?” you asked, though it would be no surprise if the girl had something to do with your meeting with Brekker a few hours ago.

“Look,” the girl said and she moved to sit next to you on the bed. You caught a shimmer of something near her wrists, but when you looked at her she was wearing a light smile. “This isn’t the worst place to end up. You have walked through these streets; you know where you could have ended.”

You thought back of earlier this evening when you were walking through the roads of the Barrel for the first time. The girl was right; if you hadn’t been brought to where you were now you could have turned into the colourless types that you had seen or, worse, you could have ended up in one of the brothels.

“Kaz doesn’t just take anyone in,” the girl continued. “He must think you have some use, or he would have left you on the streets.”

You snorted; that wasn’t exactly a much better prospect.

The girl must have guessed your thought because she chuckled shortly. “I know it does not seem like it now, but trust me—this is the right place to be.”

Silence filled the room for a minute as you thought about the girl’s words. Instinct told you that you could trust her, and that her trust once lost, was lost forever. There were so many questions you wanted to ask her but you were afraid of the answers. You preferred mystery over knowledge right now.

The shadow girl was looking at you with pity on her face, like she felt bad for your situation. There was sympathy behind her eyes and compassion in her touch as she placed her hand shortly over yours, giving it the lightest squeeze.

“What’s your name?” you asked, your throat tightening at the threat of tears.

The girl stared at you for a second and then she gave you a smile. “Inej,” she said. “But you might hear of me as the Wraith.”

Inej got up from her place on the bed and walked to the door. Her cloak fluttered behind her through the air as she walked, falling against her legs when she halted. She turned around to you. “Kaz will send someone to get you in the morning.”

“What will happen?”

“I don’t know what he has planned,” Inej sighed. “But I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do.”

She shot you a final smile and left the room silently. The shadow disappeared as quietly as it had come.

-=-=-

You didn’t know if you had slept at all. Undoubtedly you had dozed off for a while, but for most of the night you had just lain on your back staring at the stains on the ceiling above you. When the morning sun had brightened your room, the hope that it might all be a dream had disappeared when reality came in crashing hard.

The clothes you had worn last night had dried from the rain, but they no longer brought the comfort they used to. Here wearing those clothes meant that you stood out; you couldn’t blend in. When the same guy as last night had knocked on your door and ordered you to follow him you had left your jacket behind, deciding that the rest of your outfit was conspicuous enough on its own.

Last night in the dark the house had been silent, but now you heard noise everywhere. There were many more doors than you had thought and behind every one lay a secret. The house seemed bigger now it was light. Although there was no direct sunlight in the corridors you could sense that it was day. Last night you had felt mystery as you had walked through the corridors but now it felt more like the boarding school you had gone to with all the whispers.

“Where are we going?” you asked the boy who had brought you to this house.

“Crow Club,” he grumbled and then kept silent.

You walked the same route you had last night, but now the streets were deserted and the houses quiet. The Barrel was the part of Ketterdam that lived at night.

The big, silver crow that hung above the entrance of the Crow Club like a guardian quickly came to your sight and you shivered lightly. Entering that club was what had gotten you in this situation and you feared you would only get deeper in this mess when you entered again.

However, the big guy behind you left you no choice and before you even had time to think he had already pushed you over the threshold.

Stumbling inside you were greeted by the same black, windowless walls and the same stuffed scent. The crimson stools at the bar were unoccupied but the tables on the gambling floor were played on, despite the early hours. Games of Ridderspel and Spijker were in full motion as you were led through a door on the side of the room.

“Close the door behind you, Pim,” a voice from the shadows said and the boy who had led you there, apparently named Pim, closed the door.

You looked at the strange scene in front of you. You hadn’t known what to expect but it sure wasn’t a gambling parlor. There was one big table in the middle of the room and around it stood eight chairs. Only one of the chairs was occupied and with a jolt you recognised the boy from the Zemeni guns.

“Goede morgen,” he smiled at you as he leaned back in his chair. “Care for a game?”

“What?” You stood rooted to the ground, staring in confusion at the guy at the table.

From the shadows on the side of the room Kaz Brekker stepped. The loud, rhythmic thud from his cane on the floor was the only sound in the room as he walked to the table. He stopped in the middle and looked up at you with his hard cold gaze.

“Play a game,” he said, resting his two hands on the crow head of his cane.

“I don’t understand,” you tried.

“It’s easy,” Brekker said. “You said you were good at card games, right? So prove it—play a game with Jesper.”

Jesper, the boy at the table, flashed his smile full of white teeth at you and raised his eyebrows. It felt like a trap, but you couldn’t forget what Inej had said to you that night. I advise you to go along with it, or it might be the last you’ll do. An invitation to a game wouldn’t be your end.

Behind you Pim stepped closer to you and put his hand on your shoulder to push you forward. Within a second you had turned around and taken hold of his arm, twisting it dangerously close to breaking. The boy looked at you with somewhat of fright on his face and there was a little wave of triumph in your stomach. The emotions of the situation got the better of you and your heart was racing as you felt the anger rushing through your veins.

“Don’t touch me,” you hissed through gritted teeth and pushed his arm a little further. “Understand?”

Pim’s eyes flashed to the two people behind you and he recollected himself. He pulled his arm from your grip and stepped back to the door, avoiding your eyes and looking gruffly ahead.

You turned around and found Jesper looking at you in awe and even Brekker couldn’t hide his surprise. Then you nodded at the two men and took a seat on the opposite side of the table. “Let’s play then.”

Brekker nodded approvingly and shuffled the cards with his gloved hands. Your eyes were glued to the smooth movement of the crows imprinted cards. They slid through the fingers of the pale black-haired smoothly like water.

“I assume you know Ridderspel?” the gloved dealer asked as he placed four cards in front of you on the table.

“Of course,” you said, watching Jesper intently as this one got his cards.

Because everything in the situation was new for you, it would take you two or three rounds before you would get used to the game. All, from the cards and chairs to your opponent and the dealer, was unfamiliar to you and combining that with the pressure of supposably your life on the line only made it easier to overlook things.

Therefore you had to pay extra attention, and mostly to Jesper. His easygoing attitude and big smile were dangerous tricks that could throw you off without any difficulty but you wouldn’t fall for them. You were looking for little things that would give him away, like the slightest falter of his smile, a tiny frown or nervous twitch.

Jesper picked up his cards and you watched him from the corner of your eyes as you pretended to look at your own cards. For this round however those wouldn’t really matter. First you had to find Jesper’s tell. That you might lose and give him confidence was only an additional benefit; people made more mistakes when they’re blinded by the price.

At first nothing seemed to happen. Jesper kept the same smirk on his face and played the round with nonchalance, taking all but one pair in the game. Triumphantly he leaned his chair back on two chair legs and stacked his chips in front of him.

“Don’t worry love, you’ll get it later,” he said, giving you a wink.

You shot him a sweet smile back and took the new cards off the table. After one look you had them memorised and you looked at Jesper. He was looking at his cards with sparkles in his eyes, but yet again it was no different than before.

Silently you cursed yourself. Last night he had seemed so open and easy to read, but you realised now that there were many more layers to the guy with the pearl-handled revolvers.

Again you lost the game, now with all your cards being lost to Jesper. His pile of red chips was building and yours was only getting lower. You looked at your chips. If you didn’t win soon the game would be over and you’d lose, and you didn’t want to think what consequences that had.

The third game were the last cards of the deck before it was shuffled again. Your hand was to your benefit with no card lower than six. You knew there weren’t many high cards, if any at all, left in the game since Jesper had beaten you with high numbers every time. That meant that he would have low cards and now was the perfect time to watch his reaction.

You took a new approach to finding his tell. Instead of focusing on his facial expressions, that he proved to have under control, you now concentrated on his body language. His shoulders hung relaxed and his arms were resting on the edge of the table. Though you couldn’t see his legs under the table, you knew they weren’t standing neatly on the ground but were instead crossed or at least moving. Nothing in his posture gave him away.

Until it did. It was a flash of a second, if you’d blinked you wouldn't have seen it. For a fraction of time Jesper’s shoulders fell and his arms stiffened. No one else in the room noticed it, but your senses became hypersensitive.

Then, when you looked at his face, you saw more. His smirk wasn’t genuine anymore and the sparkles in his eyes weren’t as bright as before. It were minuscule changes, but big messages to you.

“I raise,” you spoke calmly and you pushed forward the last of your chips. It was all or nothing.

You saw Brekker raising his eyebrow in the corner of your eye, but you were focused on Jesper. His brows furrowed a little and he pushed forward the same amount. Though he had chips left, if you won this round you would have much more than he, meaning you won this game.

“Let’s play,” you grinned and opened with your six, your lowest card, but still a rather high card.

Jesper’s card would be crucial. If he had higher than a six, he would play that and you wouldn’t win the game. If he had a six, he would play that one and the cards would be evened out, but you would know that the six was his highest card. If he played anything lower than a six it would mean that you had won the game, for no one would lose a round on purpose and play a lower card when they had a higher one.

Expectantly you looked at Jesper. His smirk had gone and made place for a frown as he looked at the card on the table. His joyful bluffing face was nowhere to be seen and a sigh fell from his lips when he realised his defeat. He threw a five on the table and sunk back in his chair.

With a grin on your face you played the rest of the round and won all Jesper’s cards. At the end of the game, you rested your chin on your folded hands and smiled at Jesper. “You know what?” you started and Jesper looked up at you. “I think I got it.”

-=-=-

Kaz and Jesper had left the room after the game and Pim was standing on the outside of the door, making sure no one would get in. They had not said a word to you when they left and now you were alone in the silent gambling parlor. At least, that’s what they wanted you to believe.

“Inej,” you said. “Come out please.”

No matter how focused you had been on the game, you hadn’t missed the little shadow sneaking inside near the end. And you hadn’t missed how Brekker’s eyes had shifted to one particular corner while he was watching your game with Jesper.

The girl appeared from the shadow and silently walked over to you, giving you a small smile. “How did you know I was here?”

“Because you wanted to be seen,” you simply said and by the way her eyes widened you knew you were right. “I don’t really know you, but I have the feeling you can be really invisible if you want. Me seeing you is not a coincidence or special talent of mine. You wanted me to see you.”

Inej chuckled softly and shook her head. “How do you do that? Knowing what I feel by just looking at me?”

You smiled and shrugged. “I had a tutor,” you said. “Mayranoush was her name. She taught me how to know people before they even see you.”

The memory of The Teufel’s quartermaster hurt. The weird situation you were in had taken your mind off the loss for a moment, but now there was nothing to distract you the pain came double as hard.

You thought of your crew and how much you already missed them. Captain Nerseh and his brusque manners but warm heart; Marina and her cheerfulness; Vinay, who was the only one who still had wanted to play games with you. You missed them all so much and you couldn’t believe that they weren’t there anymore.

But the one you missed the most was Stefan. He had been your best friend for the past two years, you had spent every day together and never had you thought you’d have to say goodbye. You thought of his last words to you. Back then you hadn’t known what to say, but now as you were sitting there without him you knew that you loved him too. But it was too late.

“Jer elsker pe,” you whispered to yourself.

“What?” Inej asked and you looked up. You had forgotten she was sitting next to you, so silent she was.

“Nothing,” you mumbled and then turned to her. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure,” Inej answered and she smiled at you.

“Have you ever loved someone?”

Inej’s eyes flickered to the door Kaz had just left through and then she looked at you in silence for a minute. “No,” she said finally. “Never loved like that. Why?”

You stared at the upholstered table in front of you and swallowed away the pain in your throat. “I just… It hurts so much. Everyone always says that love is the most beautiful thing in the world, but no one ever mentions the pain…”

“Maybe the pain makes you appreciate it more,” Inej said. “Often we don’t see what we have until it’s gone.”

A tear rolled down your cheek and you shook your head. Inej was right; you hadn’t known you loved Stefan until he was gone. But that didn’t matter anymore. There was no way you could get the Fjerdan back and you wouldn’t turn into a mess trying to find one. You would keep your love for him deep in your heart until it was nothing more than a memory.

“Life’s not fair,” you said and you wiped the tears from your face. “But I’ll get my even.”

“How?” Inej asked and you turned to her.

“I will find who burned down my home and I will destroy them to the ground they’re standing on.”

“I suggest you find help for that,” the cold voice of Kaz Brekker said.

You looked to your side to meet Kaz and Jesper. Pim was standing inside of the room again, still avoiding your eyes when you looked at him. Jesper was watching you with a smirk and he winked at you when he caught your eyes.

Finally you turned to Brekker, who was looking at you with a peculiar expression. There was something playing around his lips that you would almost call a smile and his eyes had lost the ice cold gaze.

“Who do you suggest?” you asked, looking up at Kaz.

He shrugged half and said, before he walked away: “I have some connections.”

Pim and he disappeared behind the door and you were left dumbfounded with Inej and Jesper. The latter placed his hand on your shoulder and chuckled. You looked between him and Inej and raised an eyebrow. “What just happened?”

“I think you just became a member of the Dregs.”

- - - - -

special thanks to @awritingtree for the support and encouragement <3

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#six of crows #six of crows imagine #crows x reader #kaz brekker x reader #kaz brekker imagine #inej ghafa x reader #inej ghafa imagine #jesper fahey x reader #jesper fahey imagine #kaz brekker #inej ghafa #jesper fahey #soc #six of crows x reader #the crows x reader #crows imagine #the crows

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