#4 SE Celebrities News

[f1version]

DATES WITH YOU ♥︎ F1 HEADCANONS

includes: charles, carlos, max, daniel, lando, oscar, lewis, george, alex, logan, pierre, yuki, lance, mick, and sebastian.

summary: f1 drivers’ and their favorite themed dates!

author’s note: happy valentine’s day my loves!! this is incredibly late (almost 15th where i am) but here it is <3

love on top, a vday special ♥︎ general masterlist

now playing ♫₊⊹ until i found you by stephen sanchez

★ CHARLES LECLERC ( 16 ) — Charles has a bucket list with dates. Enjoys planning them curled up in bed, talks about how you shouldn’t repeat one until the list is done—unless you are a Drive-in theater date, he loves them. When they're arranged in Monaco, it's usually for old romcoms and coming-of-age movies, which is perfect in both of your eyes. Charles makes sure to bring snacks, blankets and pillows, everything so you can be comfortable while cuddling him. He whispers sweet nothings in your ear as the movie plays, dusk falling over you, looking as beautiful as ever. He loves this type of dates… it even gives him a chance to show off his magnificent car, but hey! that's off-topic.

★ CARLOS SAINZ JR. ( 55 ) — You and Carlos have a passion for trying new recipes, so sometimes, when you have everything you need, you decide to put on matching aprons, as well as toques, and start working on your next masterpiece. Usually, old Spanish songs play in the background, Carlos singing, grabbing you by the waist to distract you and dance a little. He loves days like these, your focused face and little scoldings are all he needs, especially because one way or another, you will end up laughing and dancing with him, sometimes full of flour and seasonings, the kitchen wearing its best perfume.

★ MAX VERSTAPPEN ( 1 ) — Max is always looking for ways to impress you, to catch you off guard and surprise you, he loves how you tease him about it. So that's why, when you go to one of your favorite places ever —the planetarium— as a date, he recollects as many details about the celestial objects as he can, waiting for your surprise when he drops a fact you didn't know he knew, starting a long, beautiful conversation about it. You know a lot more than him, but he's eager to learn, loves the way you explain every single thing to him, loves the way places like this brings you closer.

★ DANIEL RICCIARDO ( 3 ) — Daniel loves music, he spends hours on end with his headphones on, discovering new artists every day, sharing his songs, albums, and artists of the month with you, adding to his playlists your recommendations. So it's no surprise you find yourself going to multiple concerts. Dancing and singing, hugging and fangirling. Sometimes artists know Daniel and that's when you laugh the most because there's always a chance of him ending up on stage, singing to you (or trying to).

★ LANDO NORRIS ( 4 ) — Lando loves your creativity, he’s a fan of getting to know what's on your pretty mind and seeing your ideas come to life, he also loves sharing his own ideas with you, feels free doing so. His favorite dates with you consist of this: having a canvas, paper, or even pottery to paint on, gossiping and laughing for hours, having picnics and enjoying food. Lando would buy hundreds of utensils, wanting to try everything with you, forever. PD: He would have you paint him and his car, probably.

★ OSCAR PIASTRI ( 81 ) — It didn't start as a date per se, Oscar just couldn't sleep one night and you suggested building the Lego Star Wars ship in your closet, so you stayed up until 6 in the morning building it. He loves the tranquility it brings, how you can go from discussing the deepest topics to a comfortable silence. Focuses on the little things, like when your fingers brush his while reaching for a piece or that little celebration when you find another. In his apartment, he has a shelf dedicated to the Legos you've built together and photos to go with it. So, in Oscar's humble opinion, these are the best dates in the world.

★ LEWIS HAMILTON ( 44 ) — You and Lewis can live off two things: Roscoe and the beach. Surfing is something you have always bonded over, that's why you love heading to the beach early morning, going for a run with Roscoe, and then jumping to surf (taking Roscoe back inside first). You can stay out there for hours, challenging each other, improving your skills, and lying on your boards, talking about everything and nothing, loving every second of it.

★ GEORGE RUSSELL ( 63 ) — While experimenting with extreme sports would be a lovely date for George, he chooses to call his favorite something more domestic: comfy clothes, a good bottle of wine, and a long puzzle night ahead of you. He enjoys the challenging but relaxing parts of the activity, loves to strategize alongside you, and loses his focus when looking at you, falling deeper in love.

★ ALEX ALBON ( 23 ) — Playing Mario Kart as if your life depended on winning has always been part of your relationship — "It's our love language," Alex says— That's why you love to spend a large amount of time (and money) in arcades. You play against each other, with and without; also spend forty minutes trying to catch that one stuffed animal from the claw machine, cheering (and almost getting kicked out) when you get it. Alex loves it as much as he loves you.

★ LOGAN SARGEANT ( 2 ) — Logan fully believes that the best date in the history of dating are theme and amusement park dates. Whether it's a local funfair or the (in)famous Florida parks, Logan loves walking hand in hand, map and snacks in the other, trying to go on as many attractions as possible, calming the nerves of each other when necessary, laughing at the photos quickly taken on the rollercoasters (and going again to attempt looking good), and many other things that make this type of date his favorite.

★ PIERRE GASLY ( 10 ) — Pierre loves chaos and what's more chaotic than doing karaoke? Your catalog goes from High School Musical's "Gotta Go My Own Way" to Gaye and Terrell's "Ain't No Mountain High Enough." Sometimes they end up drunk enough (from adrenaline, from love, or both) to sing French songs and attempt Celine Dion's highest notes. You can spend hours teasing each other, dancing to the rhythm, and sneaking kisses in between songs.

★ YUKI TSUNODA ( 22 ) — Contrary to popular belief, Yuki's favorite type of date isn't taking you to a restaurant or cooking together, because even though he does love doing those things with you, your trips to farmers markets are his favorite. When the season is right, you visit them hand-in-hand, no matter the country since there is nothing better than discovering new foods with your favorite person. And hey! If there is something to eat, why not mix dates?

★ LANCE STROLL ( 18 ) — No matter the weather or season, you and Lance will always be up for an ice cream date. You're on a quest to find the best flavors, and the fact that some dates end in small big disasters is enough to keep you searching together, chins full of ice cream and all.

★ MICK SCHUMACHER ( 47 ) — Two things about Mick: he really enjoys ice skating and he loves you. If you put them together, he's guaranteed to have the time of his life, so he's lucky you like ice skating as much as he does. You both spend hours on the rink, being careful not to fall while holding hands, yet most of the time it's Mick who ends up in the floor as you drown in laughter. He loves that sound. He loves making you laugh and smile, it's his favorite pastime, and seeing you shine on the ice rink makes him realize how much he adores this place.

★ SEBASTIAN VETTEL ( 5 ) — Seb’s favorite is going hiking and then camping with you in the beautiful Swiss mountains, away from the a much hectic side of life. Just you and him giving new meaning to the known, sharing not only the beauty of life but also the comfort of one another, wrapped around small info-dumps and timeless laughter. It’s therapeutic being so close to each other, so pure and loving. If you ask him, he would repeat this date a thousand times over.

#love on top ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ #‎ “ ࣭⸰ ★ my writings ! #charles leclerc x reader #carlos sainz x reader #max verstappen x reader #lando norris x reader #oscar piastri x reader #daniel ricciardo x reader #yuki tsunoda x reader #lewis hamilton x reader #george russell x reader #alex albon x reader #logan sargeant x reader #pierre gasly x reader #lance stroll x reader #mick schumacher x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 headcanons #f1 2024

[kurogane2512]

HI KURO I LOVE YOUR WORKS SM CAN YOU PLEASE WRITE CHIORI AND G!P READER WHERE READER FUCKS THE HELL OUT OF CHIORI AFTER BEING PENT UP FOR SO LONG 😓😓

In celebration of Chiori's release, here you go!

18+ CONTENT

Game: Genshin Impact

Characters: Chiori x g!p reader

Type: Smut (blowjob, table sex, creampie)

It was a pleasant evening when you went to Chiori's boutique to ask for a new set of formal clothes as you were to attend a gathering at your workplace in a week. You didn't expect the shop to be so filled to the brim even at this hour, but you knew it couldn't be helped.

"Welcome to Chioriya Boutique. How may I help you?" Chiori's assistant greeted you at the entrance, you glanced around and saw Chiori attending to a customer hence decided to wait for her. Chiori also saw you walk in but paid no heed and focused on her work at hand, that's just how she was and you had problems. You sat in the waiting area and watched her diligently work with the customers around her, admiring her style and ethics.

You didn't expect her to tend to you first just because you were her partner; and frankly, you preferred to be tended later when there were less people around. Hours passed as you sat and waited, occassionally helping yourself to some tea and snacks and reading some magazines. You realized you were the last in line since nobody else came in after you and Chiori was still quite busy with others.

At last, Chiori was finally free to tend to you but to her surprise, you had fallen asleep on the couch while waiting for her. Her expression remained steeled but she felt slightly guilty inside for making you wait so long, it was perhaps due to the fact that she knew you won't force yourself in the middle that she rested easy and decided to come to you last.

She sent her assistants home for the day and closed the blinders of the shop then walked up to you and extended her hands towards your face to cup it but quickly retracted it and cleared her throat.

"Y/n, wake up. It's your turn now."

Her sharp voice rang through your ears and you jolted awake to see her standing in front of you with her arms crossed over chest. You hurriedly stood up but looked around to see the shop was empty and she had pulled out the blinders in the front, finally realizing it was quite late.

"A-Ah, I'm sorry. It seems you are closing up now, I'll come tomorrow morning."

Chiori stared at you with her usual straightforward expression then held your wrist and pulled you towards her work table before grabbing her tools.

"Don't waste time. What clothes do you want?"

"Um... I wanted a formal suit for a workplace gathering, something elegant and simple but enough as a party wear, if that makes sense."

Chiori nodded and took out a few fabric pieces to make you choose, you hesitantly went over the choices then finally picked one of them and she grabbed her measuring tape then came in front of you.

"W-Wait, don't you already have my measurements....?"

"Hmph, and what if you have changed in some areas? The measurements are almost 4 months old now, and with your eating habits I'm certain you have lost a few inches here and there."

"H-Hey, don't put it so bluntly. I try to eat well now..." you spoke in an embarrassed tone and looked away. Chiori smiled to herself for a moment then donned her usual expression and began taking your measurements.

"Hmm... I knew it, your shoulders are thinner by 3 cm.... and your waist by 8 cm... Seriously, what are you even eating?"

Chiori mumbled as she went all around your upper body then kneeled down in front to take measurements for your pants. You blushed all of a sudden looking at her in such a tempting position and felt your cock twitch in your pants, hoping she would be done soon and doesn't notice. Chiori then placed the tape on your pants' button and aligned it till your crotch point, noticing a small bulge as soon as she pressed the tape on it.

Chiori grinned and pressed the tape once again, earning a startled gasp from you. "Hmm, seems one part of you has grown at the very least. Looks like all that you are eating is going here~"

Chiori teased while palming your crotch, vibrations going up your body. She then zipped down your flyer and fished out your semi-erect cock, pumping it slowly and languidly.

"Ngh~ C-Chiori...."

"....I'll make it up to you for the wait." Chiori whispered then kissed your tip, your face becoming flushed at her actions.

"But first, take off your clothes. I don't want any fabrics getting dirty."

You couldn't do anything but comply, you swiftly pulled off your shirt and pants then stood in front of her and watched her pull down her kimono followed by her tights, keeping her underwear on. She dropped to her knees again and began pumping your cock like before, the length fully erect now. She placed her lips around the head and swiped her tongue over the slit, sucking and licking your cock.

Your groaned and gently held her head to stabilise yourself, she began bobbing her head up and down your length now. You thrusted your hips into her with a rhythmic motion, your tip brushing the back of her throat every time. Her hands massaged your balls and pumped your base as she continued bobbing her head, you sighed at the feeling of her warm and wet tongue slurping along that one vein and the way her cheeks hollowed as she sucked.

"Gah—! Chiori! T-Too fast—!~"

"I have to... close the shop soon.... hurry up and cum." Chiori moaned around your length, sending shivers down your body and you gripped her hair tighter.

Chiori eagerly bobbed her head and sucked your cock as if she was starved, perhaps she really felt bad for making you wait this long, or perhaps she simply wanted this so much. Your cock twitched as you formed a perfect rhythm with your thrusts, lightly gripping her hair and pulling her closer to plunge deeper.

"I'm close....nggh~" you moaned and Chiori hummed then swallowed your cock entirely, your eyes rolling to your skull as you instantly released inside her. Your hips jerked forward and you pulled her mouth flush against your abdomen, sending small thrusts inside her as you spurted your load. Chiori barely managed to swallow all your load, some drops dripping down her chin onto her breasts that she scooped up and licked.

"How messy. Good thing we removed our clothes." Chiori teased with a grin as she stood up and you suddenly pushed her to the table before turning her around and bending her body on it. Chiori gasped in surprise then moaned feeling your throbbing cockhead rub against her own drenched folds.

"Hmm.... you are slow, Y/n. Put it in already."

"I'm slow? Did you forget you are the one who made me wait for hours?~" you husked in her ear and licked the shell, your body resting on her back as you continued grinding your cock between her thighs.

"H-Hmph! Don't consider yourself special just cause you are my girlfriend—!"

"Oh, but I do. After all, you wouldn't accept this payment method from anyone else, right?~"

"Heh, do you want to be thrown out of my shop?~"

"Oh, try me~"

You immediately sheathed inside her in a swift motion, a loud gasp leaving her mouth as her body arched off the table. Your groaned at her tightness, her walls clenching you so well. You rutted into her in slow and shallow thrusts at first, making her more restless as she chased her release.

"I told you to get on with it! It's already so late—Mhm!~"

You suddenly slammed deep inside, prodding her sensitive spot. You then continued hammering against that same spot with a fast pace, your thighs slapping against her ass eliciting erotic noises in the shop. It was a good thing she put the blinders on the window, otherwise the Thundering Seamstress' dignity would be in trouble. You pounded at an animalistic pace, her body arching into you with each thrust and a moan filling your ears.

"Gonna cum again... damn, you are so tight for me, Chiori~"

"Mhmmm.... s-stop talking.... just fuck me....!~"

"My, such crude language is unbecoming of you, Ms Chiori~"

You smiked and pushed her further down by her lower back, making a beautiful arch of her body. You gripped her hips and drilled forward, your thick cock splitting her open. Her mind was hazy fron the stimulations, and soon after she felt a surge of hot and gooey liquid filling her up. She moaned as her walls clenched your cock and she released too, a ring of cum forming at the base of your cock.

You pulled out and watched some of the cum drip down her folds while she laid panting atop the table. You turned her around and held her up in your arms, her hands wrapping around your neck and legs around your waist. You kissed her deeply and passionately, then carried her to the couch and plunged your cock inside her again.

"H-Hey! Let's go home and— aaah!~"

"No, we do it right here. You made me wait for so long, you have to compensate me right~"

#genshin smut #genshin impact smut #genshin impact #genshin women #genshin x reader #chiori #chiori x reader #g!p reader

[crazy-so-na-sega]

10 MOTIVI PER CUI L'OMS VA FERMATA

1) L'OMS non serve A NULLA. Aveva un senso nel 1948 quando le informazioni sulle epidemie arrivavano con il telegrafo. Ora siamo in infodemia. Durante il covid l'OMS non ha fornito una singola informazione utile. Se non serve a quello evidentemente la sua reale funzione ora è un'altra.

2) L'OMS per pagare le sue ENORMI spese è in modo sostanziale pagata da privati. Tra essi i principali contributori sono la Bill Gates foundation, case farmaceutiche e associazioni pro diffusione vaccini, a loro volta pagate dai medesimi, come GAVI alliance.

3) A Maggio l'OMS cercherà di forzare tutti gli stati membri a firmare il cosiddetto "Trattato pandemico", una specie di MES DELLA MALATTIA, che garantirà ampi poteri all'organizzazione.

4) Se non riuscirà a compiere la forzatura del trattato pandemico, l'OMS tenterà di introdurre le stesse cessioni di sovranità via cambiamenti del "Regolamento Sanitario Internazionale", introdotto anni fa e già in vigore.

5) Un terzo del bilancio dell'OMS, oltre un miliardo di dollari, va negli stipendi del personale OMS sparso in sedi faraoniche in tutto il mondo. Lo stipendio MEDIO di chi lavora all'OMS, compresi i fattorini, è 120mila euro COMPLETAMENTE ESENTASSE.

6) Un altro terzo abbondante del bilancio OMS va in consulenze, strumento del tutto opaco per pagare a discrezione persone e organizzazioni in tutto il mondo.

7) La spesa in viaggi in giro per il mondo a carico dell'OMS è 160 milioni. I benefit futuri del personale sono un valore non desumibile dal bilancio, però la semplice oscillazione attuariale indica una cifra enorme.

8) La spesa TOTALE OMS per medicine e apparecchiature mediche in Africa è di soli 45 milioni. Tutta questa organizzazione enorme per una cifra minore del bilancio del comune di Urbino? Meno dei semplici costi di viaggio allocati a OMS Africa (53 milioni).

9) Il direttore OMS, l'Etiope di un partito comunista nazionalista, Tedros Ghebreyesus, mentre era ministro della sanità in Etiopia ha intessuto relazioni con la fondazione Bill Gates venendo nominato nel board di GAVI, the vaccine alliance, finanziatori complessivamente dell'OMS per quasi un miliardo.

10) L'Italia contribuisce in modo diretto e indiretto allo stipendificio OMS per circa 100 milioni l'anno.

Sarebbe il caso di smettere di pagare questi signori, magari allocando la cifra al nostro sistema sanitario nazionale. E' poco ma servirà sicuramente di più rispetto a quanto serve buttarli nella fornace OMS. Nel frattempo si deve ASSOLUTAMENTE non firmare il trattato pandemico e rifiutare ogni cambiamento al regolamento sanitario internazionale. Ho già provveduto insieme ad altri amici di maggioranza ad allertare il Governo per evitare il rischio di arrivare impreparati alla scadenza.

Fonti: Bilancio OMS:

https://who.int/publications/i/item/A76-17… Bozza testo trattato pandemico

https://apps.who.int/gb/inb/pdf_files/inb4/A_INB4_3-en.pdf… Alcune delle modifiche proposte al Regolamento Sanitario Internazionale

https://apps.who.int/gb/wgihr/pdf_files/wgihr1/WGIHR_Compilation-en.pdf… Un articolo ben scritto sui finanziatori OMS

https://ilbolive.unipd.it/it/news/chi-finanzia-lorganizzazione-mondiale-sanita… Un'intervista su OMS del celebre chirurgo Roy de Vita. Primario dell'Istituto dei tumori "Regina Elena" di Roma.

https://ilgiornale.it/news/politica/giusto-tagliare-i-finanziamenti-alloms-pi-utile-sostenere-i-2275818.html… Un'inchiesta di "Politico" sull'influenza di Bill Gates su OMS e risposta internazionale al covid.

------

[bestepisode]

Tales of Ba Sing Se

A set of vignettes about each of the main characters' adventures in Ba Sing Se, providing a glimpse of their personalities and private lives. Katara and Toph have a girls' day out; Iroh helps people in town before celebrating the birthday of his late son; Aang helps a zookeeper build a new zoo; Sokka accidentally ends up in a poetry club; Zuko goes out on a date; and Momo searches Ba Sing Se for Appa.

Sozin's Comet, Part 4: Avatar Aang

Ozai accidentally unlocks Aang's chakra, causing him to enter the Avatar State. The Order of the White Lotus successfully liberates Ba Sing Se, while Sokka and Toph manage to disable all of the airships. Katara defeats Azula and heals Zuko's injuries. Aang in the Avatar State easily overwhelms Ozai, yet still refuses to kill him. He uses an ancient form of bending, known as energybending, to strip Ozai of his firebending powers, keeping true to his beliefs and defeating the Phoenix King without taking his life. Newly appointed Fire Lord Zuko declares the War over, with Aang and his friends celebrating together. Aang and Katara share a romantic kiss on the balcony as the series draws to an end.

Vote on the other semifinal poll here!

#atla #avatar the last airbender #atla best episode #sokka #zuko #toph beifong #the white lotus #tales of ba sing se #sozin's comet

[giveamadeuschohisownmovie]

Pitch for the Earth Kingdom-Avatar show:

Assuming that Aang represents the 1800s (colonialism, warships, coal and oil) and Korra represents the 1920s (jazz music, steampunk, cars), let’s say the Earth Avatar takes place in the Avatar world’s equivalent of the 1970s/1980s.

For episode 1, instead of the traditional opening, we get a montage of how the world has changed since Korra died. Someone is watching TV and is flipping between channels, resulting in this montage:

1) A cheesy commercial about the home computer, developed by the Air Republic (by this point, the Airbenders have formed their own country)

2) A tacky ad about a cruise line for Kyoshi Island. The ad is intentionally degrading and not at all respectful of the island (lots of “ooohhh, how exotic!” type of editing).

3) A 60 Minutes interview with the Fire Nation Prime Minister (the Fire Nation government has changed since Korra died). The Prime Minister accuses the Earth Avatar of “Fire-phobia” and that he is biased towards the Earth Kingdom since that’s where he was born.

4) A news report that the crime rates in Ba Sing Se are skyrocketing.

5) A music video from a Northern Water Tribe celebrity. The song is in the style of city pop (ex: Mariya Takeuchi, Plastic Love).

6) A movie adaptation of Aang’s story. The actor playing Aang is obviously based on Arnold Schwarzenegger and the costumes are all wrong. It’s like the 1980s’ version of “Avatar The Last Airbender”.

7) Another interview in which several intellectuals argue about a “revisionist” perspective of the Hundred Year War. The intellectuals argue that the Fire Nation “needed” to attack in order to combat Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe aggression. They also placed the blame of the war on Aang for “cowardly” running away instead of acting as a peacemaker and that the real reason why the war ended was because of Zuko taking the throne.

8) Another news report that war between the Fire Nation and the Earth Kingdom is “imminent”. The Earth President and the Fire Nation Prime Minister both insist that they don’t want war but the news anchors cast doubt on the leaders’ statements. (obviously, this is to mimic the Cold War standoff between the US and the Soviet Union)

After the montage, we see that it was the Earth Avatar who was watching. He’s completely stressed out by what he was watching, which you can also see in his disheveled appearance. He tosses the remote and says something along the lines of, “Korra, if you’re out there, I need your guidance”. Korra doesn’t respond. The Earth Avatar then says, “Fine…I guess I’m on my own”.

Cue opening credits (which may or may not have 1980s synthpop beats).

#avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar the legend of korra #the legend of korra #the last airbender #Aang #Korra #nickelodeon #earth kingdom #earthbending #atla #tlok #air nomads #kyoshi island #fire nation #ba sing se #water tribe #zuko #prince zuko #atla tlok #northern water tribe #avatar studios

[brightlilith]

.002.

.important.

< previous chapter ; next chapter >

Masterlist Taglist Tokio Hotel - Masterlist Connected by music • Tom Kaulitz Patreon

December 25, 2022 - New York

...

It was Christmas, one of my favorite times of the years, but it seems this year I wasn't as excited. 5:30 am, my alarm had just gone off and I promptly turned it off, Amelia was still sleeping in the guest room, she didn't want me to spend Christmas alone again.

The dawn was so beautiful, so calming and comforting... The city was quiet, only the snow was falling serenely. Parents being awakened by their children eager to open the many gifts that lie under their trees.

My tree wasn't empty, in none of those years has it been... my family couldn't spend Christmas with me, and neither could I with them.. They always made sure to send me gifts months before so I could open them at Christmas and New Year my birthday. Brazil didn't seem so far away when I opened them.

Christmas is a time of year to celebrate with family, dress up in fancy clothes, and listen to silly jokes and boyfriend questions from your uncles. An amazing holiday. (In Brazil.)

"Why did you wake up so early?" Amélia frowned, she was leaning against the wall of one of the corridors that led to the room.

"Why are you awake?" I retorted, she stared at me. “I couldn't sleep, that's all." She nodded and came to me and sat next to me snuggling into me.

" Insomnia again?" She mumbled and I just grunted in agreement

We opened the presents and then we went to the sofa, I turned on the television and put on Friends, a good way to distract yourself..

୨୧ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ୨୧

It was 8:43 in the morning when my apartment doorbell rang, I was surprised, I wasn't expecting anyone, not even Amelia.

I went to the door and looked through the peephole, it was Marcus, the janitor, I opened the door and soon noticed a package in his hands.

"This package arrived for you this morning." He smiled and handed it to me, I smiled gently at him, so he withdrew.

I closed the door and examined the box, it was from Brazil, could it be that one of the gifts my family sent was left behind and arrived now? Who knows.

"Who was?" Asked the black-eyed woman.

"The caretaker, he brought a package for me."

"What is it?" She approached me curiously.

"I don't know, I'll open it."

I sat on the floor facing the coffee table, Amelia soon joined me. The box was medium and light.

I opened the box and found my old MP3 player, along with my headphones and charger, which I thought I lost in 2003 when I went to Germany with my parents, but it looks like it was left in Brazil. He didn't have a specific address, he just said he came from Brazil.

It was still in great shape, just unloaded it seems. I put the Mp3 player to charge next to the sofa and it started to charge.

Amelia had gone back to the guest room she officially declared hers and I went to mine, threw myself on the bed and sleep came fast.

୨୧ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ୨୧

I woke up with the cell phone vibrating, turned it off and went back to sleep, but they keep persisting. I opened my eyes and saw what time it was, 2:32 pm, and 4 missed calls from my mother, I returned the call and she answered immediately.

"Oi, mãe. (Hi, Mom)." My sleeping voice was noticeable and a little muffled because of my position.

"Oi querida, voce estava dormindo?" (Hi honey, were you sleeping?). Her melancholy voice rang out, and I hummed in agreement. "Oh querida, me desculpe, viu? Eu só liguei porque a porra do seu pai ficava me incomodando para ligar para você e perguntar se você gostou dos seus presentes." (I only called because your fucking father kept bugging me to call you and ask how you liked your presents).

"Pode dizer que eu amei, aliás, obrigado por encontrar e me enviar meu Mp3 player, pensei que nunca mais veria." You can tell him I loved it, by the way, thanks for finding and sending my mp3 player, I thought I'd never see it again). said shifting my position so my voice wouldn't be so muffled.

"Como assim? não enviamos nenhum Mp3 player, mas fico feliz que voce achou." (Sorry honey? We didn't send you any mp3 player, but I'm glad you found them). She laughed

Strange..

"seu pai sente muito a sua falta, eu também. Espero que volte logo." (Your father misses you a lot, me too, hope you come back soon). She sighed.

“Eu também, mãe. Vou tentar o meu melhor para ir ao Brasil ainda este ano." (Me too, mom. I'll try my best to go to Brazil later this year).

We talked some more and she had to hang up. I sighed heavily, Amelia is probably still sleeping.

My mp3 player should already be loaded.

I got up still lazy, opened the curtains and went to do my hygiene, as soon as I finished I went to where I had put it to charge and saw that it was 100%.

I turned it on and it started playing some weird music and some kind of thing came out of the screen.

I quickly dropped the mp3 player and walked away. The thing.. or whatever it was, it was yellow and had a funny witch hat, it also had a cape, it was blue with big white glittery stars and white glitter simulating small stars, with an orange wand in the shape of a star.

"WHAT THE HELL IS THAT?"

Tysm<3

Constructive criticism is always welcome. English ins't my fist language. Originally the idea was for the reader to be an oc, which in this case would be (Amanda White), but I will refer to her as a reader. Sorry for any grammatical or spelling errors. Comment or reblog it motivates me to keep writing.

(Not revised)

© morganaah/brightlilith ─ all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other platforms.

Taglist;

Connected by music taglist; @ajaxisbae @penquinsqge @suvakrpa @tsamiaxo @bxcndd @oh-kurva

Kaulitz Twins taglist; @Neteyamlovr

Tokio Hotel Taglist; @sunooslover @willow-sages

Tom Kaulitz taglist; @justash02 @pearlssck @venderretta

Let me know if you want to be added to the tag list 💗 the ones in blue, it's because I couldn't score.

#bill kaulitz #georg listing #gustav schäfer #tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz x reader #gustav schäfer x reader #georg listing x reader #kaulitz twins #tokio hotel x reader

[iztarshi]

Fandom: tmnt 1987

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and starts by listing to himself the reasons why that’s nonsense.

1) If he was sold at the legal size of six inches then he was likely anywhere from two to seven years old at the time, it’s been six or seven years since then, he’s been alive for fourteen years at most. But Splinter decided they were adults this year and Leonardo decided that meant these should be their eighteenth birthdays, and Michelangelo was excited to throw eighteenth birthday parties and here they all are.

2) It’s not his birthday, it’s an arbitrary day Splinter picked for him.

3) What does being eighteen even mean for a turtle? If it was twenty-one maybe it would mean Leonardo would let them have some champagne, but eighteen? He could vote, if turtles had the vote. He could enlist, which, hah, nope, he’s been fighting for years already he’s not upgrading to an actual war. Anyway, he doesn’t think the new Don’t Ask Don’t Tell laws would cover someone not asking if you’re a turtle.

At this point in the list, Michelangelo comes to wake him up and he puts his head under the covers.

“Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” Michelangelo announces.

“I don’t want a birthday, I want more sleep,” Raphael says.

“But I made breakfast…”

The blanket provides excellent defense from Michelangelo’s puppy dog eyes, so Raphael is able to say, “I don’t care,” and listen to Michelangelo walk away no matter how dragging and sad he makes his footsteps.

4) Why is Raphael’s birthday about making Michelangelo happy? Raphael would be much happier if everyone just forgot it.

Stewing on this keeps him busy until Leonardo comes to wake him up with a pat on the shoulder. “It’s nearly lunchtime,” he says. “You missed training.”

“Thanks for the birthday present,” Raphael answers. But he can’t lie in bed all day, and he’s getting hungry, so he does get up.

Technically the party is this evening, but clearly Michelangelo can’t contain his excitement. There are banners and balloons, there are party foods mostly consisting of a variety of mini-pizzas. There’s music. Great, this is going to last all afternoon. At least the food looks good.

“Happy Birthday!” Michelangelo tells him.

Raphael rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, you said.”

“Have some pizza,” Donatello suggests, handing him a plate of his favourites. At least the food is good.

The food that evening is good too, the cake is tasty enough Raphael’s glad he didn’t find a way to ruin it. The others let him pick the channel when they watch TV and shrug off how obviously he’s sulking his way through his birthday. So, that’s nice, at least, even if the whole thing is just grating like sandpaper on his shell.

It’s still a huge relief to fall into bed and forget about birthdays for another year.

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and doesn’t realise this until Michelangelo says, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!”

He opens his eyes and blinks at the other turtle. “No, it’s not. That was yesterday.”

Michelangelo rolls his eyes. “Come on, I made breakfast.”

“No seriously,” Raphael says. “You had better not be trying to make me celebrate my birthday twice in a row because I’m not doing it, Michelangelo.”

He follows Michelangelo into the kitchen where there are pancakes because Michelangelo has been branching out a bit from pizza recently. Leonardo is eating one with maple syrup and chopped olives.

“Happy Birthday!” he and Donatello chorus.

“Not you too,” Raphael moans. “Come on, wasn’t yesterday enough?”

Donatello frowns. “What happened yesterday?”

“My birthday, unfortunately.”

“Quite joking, dude, it’s not funny,” Michelangelo says.

“Who’s joking?” Raphael answers. “You guys are the ones screwing around.”

“It could be a minor time anomaly,” Donatello says, thoughtfully. “With all the time travel we’ve had in the last few years the time-space continuum might take a while to stabilise.”

“Seriously?” Raphael demands. “It’s seriously my birthday.”

“It seriously is,” Leonardo says, so earnestly that Raphael gives up on it being a joke.

“Great,” Raphael says. “So what do we do about it?”

Donatello shrugs. “Just carry on as normal. Having to relive one day isn’t so bad.”

“I’m not celebrating my birthday twice in a row.”

Michelangelo’s face crumples. “I was up all night preparing…”

Raphael caves like he pretty much knew he would. “Fine, fine.” He supposes he can endure one more birthday.

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and he’s not even that surprised. As soon as Michelangelo cheerfully announces, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” he stomps into the living area to find Donatello.

“You said this time anomaly would be over by today,” he accuses Donatello, who is biting into a pancake.

“I. What?” Donatello says.

“I’m stuck in a time loop, this is the third time I’ve had my birthday, and I’m not putting up with it. You said it was a time anomaly caused by all our time travelling visitors, so fix it.”

Donatello stands up, looking at Raphael as if he’s suddenly much more interesting than the pancakes. “Come into my lab and I’ll see what I can do.”

After some prodding with various technological devices, Donatello hmms thoughtfully and goes to rummage around in the back of his lab.

“Aha!” he says. “My time stopping device.”

“That can break the time loop?”

“Techinically, no. It can only freeze one person or object in time. But if the entire world is resetting every time you reach midnight - or an arbitrary time somewhere between 11 pm and 9 am - then having you frozen ought to prevent it. The world will be able to carry on as normal.”

“Uh. Th-that does not sound great for me.” Raphael starts backing away nervously. He was not expecting to be sacrificed to save the world from a time anomaly when he asked for Donatello’s help!

“Oh, I’d unfreeze you the next day. Once time has moved on it should be fine to bring you back into the timestream.”

Raphael sighs in relief. “You have an inimitable bedside manner, Donatello. Let’s do that, then.”

“You don’t want to wait until after the party?” Donatello asks. There’s a teasing gleam in his eye so Raphael doesn’t bother answering that one.

“Haha,” Raphael says. “Get on with it.”

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday already knowing exactly what day it is.

This time Donatello tries sending him to a different dimension which would have led to a really nice visit with the Neutrinos if Michelangelo didn’t insist on coming along and telling everyone it’s Raphael’s birthday. The Neutrinos do know how to party and if Michelangelo is the one who’s really having a good time, well. At least someone is.

This time they’re all still up at midnight and Raphael is sits in a flying car with a tremendous view over the biggest city in dimension X nervously watching the clock on the dashboard tick its way up.

-

Raphael wakes up in bed on his eighteenth birthday.

-

By the twelfth loop Donatello is out of ideas and increasingly upset when Raphael answers, “We tried that already,” to everything he suggests. He spends the afternoon and evening crashing furiously around his lab while Michelangelo tries to throw a party for Raphael anyway and Leonardo and Splinter both fret.

-

On the thirteenth loop Raphael doesn’t tell Donatello.

When Michelangelo greets him with, “Wake up, dude, it’s your birthday!” he gets out of bed mechanically.

Nothing feels real at this point. The pancakes look like the ones in adverts where the too perfect syrup is really motor oil. Raphael stares at them and wonders whether he’s doomed to an eternity of seeing these pancakes.

No one notices how out of it he is. They try to cheer him up the same way they did on the first loop, letting him pick the movies — he picks different ones — and not mentioning that he’s quiet and irritable.

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday for the fourteenth time and runs away from home. He has to move fast to be out of the way before Michelangelo comes to wake him up but he does leave a note.

I’m not celebrating my birthday this year. Please leave me alone and I’ll be back tomorrow.

Raphael

Michelangelo’s going to be really upset and they’re all going to worry, especially since he left his turtle comm behind, but it will all be the same tomorrow. Like it never happened at all. So how mean can it be, really?

He watches art house movies, sneaks into a live comedy show, and eats pizza on the roof at just the right distance from a loud concert. For today he can almost forget he’s in a time loop, after all he’s doing something different from yesterday.

-

It would probably take weeks to run out of things to do in New York, even once Raphael’s done the ones that really appeal to him. Even limited to things happening on a single day. It takes four days for him to no longer enjoy doing them alone. Even looping his birthday would be better than never seeing his family.

So he tries bringing them along.

It’s not even hard to convince them. “Hey, there’s a baseball game we can see from some roofs. I want to go.” There’s no argument, it’s his birthday, and they all enjoy a baseball game now and then.

But they bring the birthday with them. Not the banners, or the cake, or the food, but something less tangible. Everyone wants to talk about his birthday more than they want to talk about the game. Chatting about the past year, about the upcoming year, teasing him about past birthdays. Michelangelo sneaks cotton candy and crackerjack from the concessions stand and leaves money for it. Raphael is offered first pick and the others watch to see if he enjoys the snacks. Why does he hate that so much?

By the time they get home for the party dinner Raphael is snippy and sulking. He refuses to eat any cake.

Why did he miss these guys so badly, again?

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday for the nineteenth time and refuses to get out of bed. Michelangelo’s cheery wake up call is ignored and when Leonardo comes to shake him awake for lunch he just moans and vanishes into his shell.

Leonardo sits down and rubs his shell through the covers. “Are you not feeling well?”

“No,” Raphael mutters. Ill isn’t exactly what he’s feeling, but he thinks he deserves the sympathy.

“Try to get a bit more sleep then,” Leonardo says.

Michelangelo brings him soup for lunch instead of pizza and everyone sits around him while he eats. It’s somehow very different from the way they kept making him the centre of attention yesterday and even kind of nice.

Afterwards he curls up under the blanket again and it’s not long before he hears the soft, halting patter of rat feet mixed with the soft thud of a staff.

Splinter sits down on the bed and puts one hand against Raphael’s head to check for a fever. “Can you tell me what hurts, my turtle?” he asks.

Raphael sits up and then wishes he hadn’t when it makes him taller than Splinter. He’s always been taller than Splinter — at least since he stopped being palm-sized — but he would have liked to pretend otherwise. Maybe what he needs right now is a pair of big hands prepared to stop him walking his little flippers off the table.

“Uh, it’s not really…” he starts.

Splinter nods. “You are upset about your birthday?”

“No. I mean, yeah, but also I’m in a time loop.” It sounds abrupt and stupid said like that, Raphael groans. “Don’t tell Donatello, he already did his best. I don’t want to burst his bubble by telling him science is not always the answer.”

Splinter is quiet for a long moment and when he speaks it is slowly and thoughtfully. “I assume we were all aware of this at first?”

“Yeah.”

“And in previous loops I left it to Donatello to deal with?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s his thing, right? He said it was a time anomaly caused by all the time travelling lately, but —” Raphael takes a deep breath against the sting of tears. “But why is it just me? I mean, if Donatello’s right and the whole world’s repeating this day again and again without knowing, then maybe I’m the lucky one? But it doesn’t feel like that.”

“Hmm.” Splinter squeezes Raphael’s hands. “Science was never my field, but the mind can affect reality. Remember how I have taught you to reach for one another when meditating?”

“You think that would help?”

“Ah, probably not. But when you do that your feelings of connection to one another allow you to make an impression on the universe.”

“Are you saying I’m doing this to myself.” Raphael jerks away, wrapping his arms around himself.

“I doubt you would have the power to do anything so drastic. But whatever time anomaly is in play, your attitude towards this day may have entangled it with you. Let it go, if you can.”

Splinter pats his head gently and walks out, which, okay. Giving cryptic advice and walking off is sort of Splinter’s thing. It usually does help, in the end, but is this really the time for cryptic advice? Raphael sucks at interpreting it.

Still. He might not understand that whole thing about the universe, but a time loop that’s about you, personally, is the plot of Groundhog Day, right? The key to getting out of the loop is getting it right, living the day the way… he guesses, the way the universe wants you to. Great, he’s being bossed around by the cosmos.

Thinking about it the guy in Groundhog Day spent years in the loop and became a whole different person by the end of it. Raphael doesn’t want that. Sure, he’s a jerk, but he’s… he’s him. If he’s going to grow and change he wants to do it with the other turtles, not alone so he can become worthy of them. He just wants to get this day right quickly so he can go home.

Michelangelo brings him dinner on a tray with a bunch of balloons tied to it. There’s a slice of cake. Raphael nearly bursts into tears.

-

Raphael does everything right. Michelangelo is greeted that morning with equal cheer and compliemented on the pancakes. Leonardo is delighted when Raphael makes no objection to training on his birthday and gives it his all. Reminiscences, teasing, and even questions about the future are greeted without sarcasm. Raphael blows out the candles and wishes for this to be over before eating his piece of cake with a smile.

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday and wonders what he did wrong. Why it wasn’t enough. But that was only one try! He’s got to keep going!

So he does it again. And again.

-

Raphael wakes up on the morning of his eighteenth birthday after five tries at being good and decides that’s clearly not enough. He’s got to be perfect.

So maybe he’s more manic than cheerful when he answers Michelangelo’s wake up call with, “Good morning, my sweet Michelangelo. Breakfast smells absolutely amazing.”

When he greets the others with, “Good morning on this fabulous day!” Donatello gives him a Look. But he can’t let that discourage him! Embarrassment is a small price to pay for tomorrow.

He tells Leonardo that he couldn ’t possibly mind training with such a dedicated teacher. He insists on helping Michelangelo with lunch.

“He didn’t accidentally get hit with that personality changing ray again, did he?” he overhears Donatello asking Leonardo.

“I don’t know. Did you leave it lying around again?” Leonardo asks.

This is what they notice? Raphael thinks. Not him drifting through the day barely speaking. The time he refused to get out of bed they just thought he was ill. But if he’s nice something must really be wrong. Maybe he should use the personality altering ray. Maybe that’s the only shortcut to what the stupid universe seems to want.

Or maybe it doesn’t want anything and he’s only imagining there’s a way out.

-

Raphael wakes up on his eighteenth birthday and takes the day off from being nice. He can try again tomorrow. Or next week. Whenever. The only one it will make any difference to is him.

It’s not like he sets out to be nasty, it’s just a day where he’s not trying to be anything. He says good morning to Michelangelo, but curls back up to sleep until Leonardo wakes him for lunch.

He eats mini-pizzas and picks the movies, but complains that they’re all ones he’s seen.

“I don’t remember seeing the Snail that Slimed Tokyo?” Leonardo says.

“Yeah, me neither,” Michelangelo says.

“I must have watched it without you guys,” Raphael answers. “Definitely seen it, though. It eats the girl in this next scene.”

Michelangelo smacks him with a pillow and it’s worth it.

Everyone disappears shortly before dinner only to reappear and herd him over to the dinner table, set out with all the food Michelangelo cooked and a picture perfect birthday cake in the centre.

“Now it’s time to really get the party started,” Michelangelo enthuses.

“Can we not?” Raphael says, hopelessly. “Just this once, can we pretend it’s not my birthday?”

“Dude, come on, you only turn eighteen once.”

Raphael laughs and it catches in his throat like sandpaper. “Even if that was true,” he says. “Even if that was true. Even if this wasn’t an arbitrary day decided by Splinter and an arbitrary age decided by Leonardo, because our glorious leader is the boss of how old I am now. Even if turning eighteen meant anything to a turtle, if I could buy property, or vote, or, or smoke.”

“You definitely can’t smoke,” Leonardo interjects, alarmed.

“Right, see, there’s something else our fearless leader gets to decide. Even if I could smoke. Or gamble. Or, or, anything else, I still wouldn’t want to celebrate that. I am sick of you guys throwing a party for something I hate! All you want is an excuse for a day you, for some reason, enjoy! It’s selfish and stupid and I don’t even know why I want to be around friends like you. I hate my birthday and I hate all of you. If this party matters so much to you, you can have it without me.”

Raphael remembers his turtle comm can be tracked and throws it into the cake for emphasis before running out.

Stupid, he thinks, curling up against a random chimney pot. That was way overdoing not being nice today. He’s probably made Michelangelo cry.

Not that it’s going to matter. Tomorrow will wipe the slate clean.

Raphael decides to find a clock he can watch, see how long he’s got to wait before he gets the next do over.

It’s about four hours before Raphael is finally watching the clock tick down. He sighs and braces himself for waking up.

The hands meet at the top. The bell chimes. The minute hand moves on.

It is no longer Raphael’s eighteenth birthday and he’s got some apologising to do.

-

Raphael comes back at around half past midnight on the day following his eighteenth birthday to find Michelangelo pacing the floor in tears. He rushes over to grab Raphael’s shoulders and then immediately backs off.

“Sorry,” they both say.

Raphael blinks. “Why are you apologising?”

“For makin’ you celebrate. I didn’t know you hated it that much.”

“I’ve always hated my birthday.” It’s practically a family joke.

“Yeah, but, I shoulda known you really meant it. I just thought you were being grumpy about it, I didn’t know I was makin’ you hate me.”

“I don’t hate you.” Raphael grabs Michelangelo around the shoulders, pulling him into a hug. “I really don’t. Ugh. I wouldn’t have said that if I’d known it was going to count. It wasn’t meant to matter.”

“Why would it not matter?” Michelangelo sounds horrified.

“Not like that. Would you believe I’ve been in a time loop? It’s been a couple of weeks. Nearly four? I’ve been trying to figure out how to break it but of course it breaks when I’ve just upset everyone and worried you all sick. Splinter said my thoughts were connected to the universe, he didn’t say the universe had it in for me. Although I really should have guessed.”

Michelangelo takes a moment to process that and then he says, “Oh yeah! Everyone is worried sick. I gotta call them,” and takes out his turtle comm. “Guys, you can stop looking, he’s here. Yeah, he’s okay, um, I think.”

Raphael leans over Michelangelo’s shoulder. “I’m fine. And I’m sorry.”

Leonardo says, “We’ll talk when we get home,” and shuts off the communicator.

“Think I’m in for a scolding?” Raphael asks lightly.

“Not if you tell them what you told me,” Michelangelo says. “Being in a time loop would drive anyone nuts.”

Raphael laughs because Michelangelo is so straightforward sometimes. Sure, they’ve all been through a lot of crazy stuff, but he’s still accepted Raphael’s explanation really fast.

“It was really scary, though, you runnin’ off like that,” Michelangelo adds. “Especially when you haven’t seemed like you wanna be part of the team sometimes.”

“You took that seriously?”

“Pretty hard not to when you and Donatello actually left.”

Leonardo and Donatello arrive soon after that, they must have been close by when they got the call, and Raphael explains about the time loop with a rundown of the less embarrassing moments. When he lays it out it doesn’t seem like he’s been through anything that bad. A month of birthdays, hanging out with his family.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t fix it,” Donatello says when he’s finished.

“Uh, hey, don’t do that. Not your fault,” Raphael says. He knows there’s nothing that can really make it okay when Donatello can’t help one of them, but he really wishes something could. “I’m sorry I snapped like that.”

“Do you really not want to be eighteen?” Leonardo asks. “You’re right, I’m the one who decided. It’s not like you have to be.”

“Eh. May as well be one year closer to tasting champagne.”

“Be honest,” Leonardo says. “I know you did tell us you don’t like celebrating your birthday and we brushed it off, but we’re listening now.”

“I. Ugh.” His leader is looking at him with big, sincere eyes that are less round now than they were a couple of years ago, but no less effective. “I don’t want to think about ages. We were never kids, we’re never really going to be adults. We’re never going to be allowed to be adults. Not unless turtle suffrage becomes a thing. So.” A deep breath. “And what does no longer being Master Splinter’s students mean? ‘Cause if it means we have to get jobs now I’d better not wind up doing birthday party gig work again.”

“We’re not going to split up,” Leonardo says, like there’s no irony in him being the one to reassure Raphael of that after the whole HAVOC thing. “That time when Splinter left us and we had to get jobs on our own was part of Splinter’s plan. It wasn’t practice for it happening for real. And I… I wouldn’t make that choice again.”

Raphael mutters, “Okay,” and blinks hard.

“Guess the universe was waiting for you to be honest about your feelings,” Michelangelo says, resting his chin on Raphael’s shoulder.

“If so that’s really unfair,” Raphael says. “I was being honest in the first place and I didn’t mean everything I shouted either. The universe has an anti-turtle bias. Then again, I’ve always suspected as much.”

“Cheer up, dude,” Michelangelo says. “It’s not your birthday.”

#febuwhump #febuwhumpday11 #tmnt 1987 #87 turtles #I genuinely did write this one in a day #and now I need to sleep #also shout out to the discord #for telling me what americans can legally do at eighteen #I think I brought up everything they mentioned by the end

[saint-siren]

A World For Her Alone | 'Never again' is a prayer, not a promise

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7

cw (chapter specific): illness, death, pregnancy, birth, depression, absolutely nothing good happens to reader

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: the progression of Diana's illness and the birth of reader's child

author's note: sorry for the long gap in between updates, it will probably definitely happen again. anyway, who’s excited to place bets on Claude again? no one?

You had heard, the week after the news arrived at your home, that Diana managed to hold out but still her situation was precarious. Her condition was unstable and required round the clock supervision. Always, at her bedside, there was someone looking over her.

In the months that followed, the mansion was deprived of Claude’s presence. He was by your little sister’s side and as pregnancy drained your body, you could not follow him. Your body ached and the pregnancy was a tumultuous one, if you set off immediately in a carriage which was prone to bumps, hard stops and shaking, you might miscarry. It didn’t matter, though. He didn’t want you there, didn’t want you robbing his time with Diana. An intruder in the scene, a foreign object hanging over a lover and his tragic heroine.

He had only visited once, in earlier days of your pregnancy, when you were not so tired. Claude rushed in, probably only to finish work since he had stayed at your parents for so long, ignoring you even as you stood at the foyer. You turned quickly and called his name. “I apologize, I have work to do,” He said, flatly as he turned to leave. “I’m with child!” You blurted, desperate to have a moment to tell him. You clearly wouldn’t get another. Claude stalled and turned slightly so that he was looking back at you but his body still postured as if he would leave. His face was emotionless for a moment and then a smile touched his lips. That smile didn’t reach his eyes, which still looked lifeless. “Is that so?” He responded with much difficulty, you could tell. The voice that spoke those words barely sounded like him, a voice straining itself, gravely with the effort of holding back sadness.

His expression…one of regret. This child that you knew could never be celebrated by him in such a situation, was already being regretted by him. You knew that it was the probable outcome all things considered. Even so, knowing something that will happen in the future is not the same as knowing how you will feel when it arrives. You hadn’t expected to wound him so deeply with those words, you would not have expected that instead of his anger or his irritation, you would face his wavering form racked with sadness and regret. Yet again the illusion of ever having such a thing as a tie other than marriage to Claude was broken.

And then he disappeared upstairs.

You mused to yourself in bed, curtains drawn, your arrival would perhaps cut through the spell casted by them alone. Alone, they could pretend you were no one of consequence, that there was only their love and nobody else would be needing and wanting them. No greater importance. Your presence was yet another tragic layer, a reminder that they could never be. An omen of the real world. Even though you alone were not what was keeping them apart, per se – you would function as the symbol. For you were his wife. Standing next to Diana you were the chief reminder of duty over love, the weak, beautiful and needing Diana next to you. It was almost a call for rebellion, wasn’t it?

Your mind roved with thoughts about your husband at your little sister’s bedside humming sweet words of assurance while every ache and pain of your body could only be comforted with your own voice. “Everything is going to be alright,” You whispered in the darkness of your room, hands on your small bump, caressing it as if it were a touchstone for hours, unable to sleep. You lost yourself in that large room, lit only by a small lamp. Mindlessly, feeling your bump with some unknown exhaustion and with some desire to simply let the weight piled onto your shoulders droop while you were alone, you contradicted yourself. You whispered to yourself, not even expecting to hear the words aloud. “I believe that it isn’t.”

Nevertheless, your strength did improve some later in your pregnancy and with no help from your mind. On none of those days did Claude come home and you felt every single one of them. Even so, you were tended to by your servants who would of course preserve the health of Claude’s heir. Your days passed without incident, monotonously. Until you received a request from Claude to come to your parent’s mansion.

Your hands shook holding the short and curt note with Claude’s initials. You thought about what front you should take. What expression, what words would be proper in this situation? If you had truly been a devoted sister, you would have already been there regardless of the threat it posed to your health. That was the ideal big sister. But in part, perhaps you had stayed home all this time because you knew that with just one look at her, you would reveal your resentment. Even if you said nothing, your eyes would cast the blame.

You got out of bed and prepared to leave, although you were not nauseous or in pain as you used to be, it was still difficult. Even the effort of dressing in proper outside clothing winded you. The carriage ride was slow, for your sake but still uncomfortable. Still, you could not refuse to see your husband who for months avoided this house. You could not help but follow him when he allowed.

Your escort knight, who had silently accompanied you since you became a young lady, held out his hand for you to steady yourself as you walked. “My lady,” he murmured, signaling you to allow him to help you. His hands were warm and you were glad for their strength, glad that regardless of every anxiety inside you, they pulled you along slowly. You ignored his blue eyes, plied with pity at the state of you.

You arrived at your family’s mansion, your body sore. Your parents did not waste time with greeting, they simply beckoned you in and explained Diana’s current situation. They did not comment on your protruding belly, nor even cast a fixed look at you, their eyes were always directed away from you. The mansion was quiet, nothing except your footsteps could be heard. It was as dim as Claude’s mansion and your parents also seemed washed out. Everything was cast in ashes and deprived of the glow it took on before.

Claude himself had asked that you go to your sister’s room, saying she wanted to see you. It was an absurd situation, having your husband be the one already there, beseeching you to see your sister. But you went along, words lost to you.

When you went into Diana’s room, it was as shrouded as the rest of the house. That thing, that which washed away all color, was the shadow of death. Diana was in bed, weaker than ever, her breathing labored. Her eyelids drooped, under her eyes was colored nearly red as her irises. She laughed pitifully when her ruby eyes fixed on you. “I’ve recovered somewhat, I can sit up now if mother helps me.” What lay underneath that statement, the words to be left unsaid were “It won’t be long.” And you could see it, death had Diana in view.

Even so, she did look very beautiful. Even as the sight of her conveyed pain, she was still beautiful.

Suddenly, she had grown grim. Her small smile dropped. “I’m sorry.” She said, voice wavering more than before.

What could you answer to that? What would a sister who prioritizes her little sister say? You tried to conjure some half hearted words to comfort her and to make yourself seem less like a hollow husk of something born brittle.

“I love Claude” She confessed. Diana confessed her love for Claude as if she were asking for redemption before a statue in a temple. Her fingers, bony and fragile as twigs, clasped each other as if she were praying. Tears rolled down her cheeks which had changed from their natural, sweet blush, into pure ivory.

“I don’t have much time left here.” Though the room was quite warm, you thought surely there must be a draft in the room. It chilled you to the bone.

You could smell, mixed with Diana’s medications, the lingering scent of Claude in the stuffy room. It still remained even with the comings and goings of doctors, even with the seeming stream of air. That was how long he spent in her room.

“I’m afraid to be alone. I don’t want to die alone.” You have never felt more numb. Is it that you must forgive her because she’s dying? No matter what, must she be forgiven? The words passed through you like the reach of a ghost.

You couldn’t, even just shallowly without any intentions, say those words. You left as silently as you came, proper words alluding you just the same. That night, back at the mansion, Claude confronted you as soon as he had come home. He informed you that Diana had cried.

“What did you say to her? She was fine until you came.” His expression was cold.

“Nothing,” You answered lamely with the literal truth.

“Don’t lie to me,” He scoffed “Everything you’ve done so far to other people, how can I believe you? You used that same face while scheming against others without a thought.”

“That child you’re carrying, is it even mine?” He continued, words sharp as blades and aimed to cut you open the same.

In that instance, the world turned white as a snowstorm. Those words were the gentle murder of you. Everything collapsed into itself. And for a moment, you were watching from outside of your own body, passively replaying that voice.

Who knows how long that went on? You blinked and you were in bed again with the doctor in front of you.

“Madame…you’re unwell. Your body is at risk because of this pregnancy. If we act quickly, you can be saved. But that is only if you give up on having this child” The doctor grimly told you. It was clearly unpleasant to serve such an ultimatum but there was no other way it seemed.

He held your hands, his were warm like before. “No.” Your voice was thin as a weak breeze but resolute. If you could only give birth to your child, you could show Claude. That child would dispel his worst suspicions.

…Therein lies the problem. That was why Claude said what he did. You had stepped over others and became stronger for the sake of your love for Claude. You were even willing to use your child to prove your loyalty. You had schemed against many as if it was nothing. Because living otherwise, it would have been hard to protect yourself, protect the fragile semblance of a life you two had. And no matter what, you had to follow that path.

You gave birth months later after much struggle. The strain was enormous to your body, so much so that you thought you may die before the baby was even born. But when the child was finally born, it had the same golden hair as Claude. However, you never saw if the baby had his eyes.

Your vision was hazy and your life was ever diminishing with each moment. No one had even given the child to you yet, you had been watching the midwives clean them off. An impossible yearning, a doomed desire overtook you. You did not even know if it was a boy or girl but your arms would never hold them. Your eyelids grew heavier and it would seem that there was a doctor saying something to a midwife but you could hear nothing but a droning ring inside your head.

Claude had not returned home, not even out of suspicion, to see his child being born. Not even as a marquess, to see his successor. Not even as a ghost. Not even as a hallucination.

In the end, there was no one to look to. Claude was tending solely to Diana even on the day his child was born. Diana had said she was afraid to die alone but Claude had been by her side all this time. You were afraid too. Uselessly afraid of what was before your eyes.

You didn’t want to be brought back. This time was enough to show you that you were not meant to live in this world. You never wanted to again.

tags (i'm doing this on desktop so forgive me if it's not right on mobile): @kage-tobiuo @kreishin @rosephantomhive @yeahdrarry @splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiess @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid @ariachaos @cerisearan

Next

#claude x diana #claude de alger x reader #claude x reader #wmmap claude #claude de alger obelia #wmmap x reader #wmmap fanfic

[gavroche-le-moineau]

L’air de la misère / The air of misery

We're at this part in Les Mis Letters so here is my translation and annotations of one of Fantine's songs on the Original Concept Album, "L'air de la misère." The tune of this song would get used in the final musical as Éponine's "On My Own."

You can find a PDF of the translation here: L'air de la misère

[Fantine] J’avais des si jolis défauts j’étais rêveuse, j’étais coquette un peu naïve, mais pas trop pour ne jamais perdre la tête et je me faisais fête¹ d’un chant d’oiseau, d’un jour nouveau Je n’ai plus qu’une robe grise qui sert aussi de couverture quand le vent glacé de l’hiver tourne la nuit dans ma masure et plus beaucoup d’honneur de dignité au fond du cœur

[Fantine] I had such pretty flaws I was a dreamer, I was a coquette A little naive, but not too much So as to never lose my head And I used to look forward¹ to a bird’s song, to a new day I have no more than one grey dress That also serves as a blanket When the icy winter wind Swirls around my hovel at night And not much honor left Or dignity at the bottom of my heart

NOTE 1. “je me faisais fête” – While “se faire une fête de” means “to look forward to,” I think it’s important to point out that within this phrase is “faire fête,” meaning to celebrate, literally to have a party.

La misère n’est mère de personne² la misère est pourtant sœur des hommes mais personne sur terre n’en veut pour fille comme bâtarde née dans un cachot de la Bastille La misère enfante la détresse bien des vices et toutes les faiblesses³ la misère lâche la bête en l’homme et la mésange alors en chienne errante se transforme⁴

Misery is the mother of no one² Misery is nevertheless a sister of men But no one on this earth wants her for a daughter Like a bastard born in a dungeon of the Bastille Misery gives birth to distress Plenty of weaknesses and all frailties³ Misery lets loose the beast in man And the chickadee transforms into a stray dog⁴

NOTES 2. “La misère n’est mère de personne” – It is important to keep in mind throughout this song that “misery” in French is feminine, so it is referred to as a mother, sister, daughter, etc.

3. “des vices… des faiblesses” – “Vices” could just as well be translated as “vices” and “faiblesses” as “weaknesses / feebleness.” I simply chose the two English words that I thought sounded best.

4. “la mésange alors en chienne errante se transforme” – Remember again that misery is feminine, so in this phrase we have “la mésange,” which is a small cute bird (family Paridae which includes tits, titmice, and chickadees) with a feminine noun, and the noun for dog here is also feminine. In English the word for a female dog, a bitch, has strong negative connotations whereas the word used here, “chienne” can simply mean a female dog, so I chose to translate it as “dog.”

Il faut qu’on se sente survivre dans un enfant qu’on a fait vivre⁵ et qu’en sa source d’innocence on noie notre désespérance⁶ pour ne pas mettre fin à cette vie sans lendemain [Refrain]

You need to feel you are surviving In a child you brought to life⁵ And in whose source of innocence We drown our hopelessness⁶ So as not to put an end To this life with no tomorrow [Chorus]

NOTES 5. “survivre ... vivre” – I want to highlight the chosen words here. “Vivre” means “to live” so it’s easy to recognize it in the word “survivre” (to survive) and the phrase “faire vivre” (to bring to life / to give birth to). In addition, while I translated these lines using the pronoun “you,” in French the pronoun is “one.”

6. “source d’innocence … on noie” – Here, the word “source” is exactly equivalent to the English, but should evoke the meaning “the source of river / spring / of water” due to the next line which refers to drowning in this source. In this sentence, the literal French is again “one drowns” (which can also be translated as “you” or the royal “we”), however “notre désespérance” explicitly uses the word “our” for “our hopelessness.”

I've always thought it was interesting that Fantine got two songs in the Original Concept Album- this one, in addition to "J'avais rêvé d'une autre vie" which is the direct equivalent to "I Dreamed a Dream." In order, L'air de la misère comes before she sells her hair, while I Dreamed a Dream comes after and ends with reference to her sex work, and what would become the song "Lovely Ladies."

#les mis original french concept album #mytranslations #concept album translations #l'air de la misère #fantine #les mis musical #les mis lyrics #Youtube

[beesmygod]

JJBA PART 5, VENTO AUREO IS THE UNDERBAKED MESS I CAN'T STOP THINKING ABOUT FIXING...PART 1

imagine you are celebrating your big promotion at the pigeon crushing factory (in this world you make a living crushing pigeons into a cube, this isnt important) and decide to treat yourself to a delicious hibachi feast at the local grill. as you sit down, your chef introduces himself to you; to your surprise, the chef is reknown mangaka hirohiko araki!

"wow, amazing!" you think to yourself, "i can't wait to see what delicious treats he has waiting for me, especially after that scrumptious part 4 i had last time". araki smiles knowingly, seeing the recognition of his talent in the gleam of your wide eyes. with a dramatic flourish, begins his work. a wild and frenzied solo performance begins. ingredients are chopped and flung with dazzling accuracy, speed, and showmanship until you are presented with the fruits of his labor: a new dish, just for you.

there's one problem. he forgot to turn on the grill. or maybe he never meant to. his confidence leaves you unsure of what to do when he starts flinging raw onions into your mouth and encouraging you to chew. like the tragic chef from the clickhole video, he has served you a plate of raw chicken and vegetables and is now looking at you with his arms crossed over his chest waiting for you to dig in.

its not all bad. you can eat some of the veggies as long as they don't touch the chicken, but the majority of it is inedible. you didnt even get to see him do the cool onion thing. you push the plate back unfinished and hoping for an explanation for what the fuck just happened but when you look up, you realize araki has already left. his big chef hat and coat are lying on the floor where he shed them on his new journey to start a raw foods store having discovered his passion for organic veggies. next time you crush so many pigeons you get another promotion, you try the new store and its delicious. can't fault him, i guess!

this is the experience of watching jojo part 5.

---

and LOOK. i'm not lacking in perspective here. its presumptuous to say "i can do better" or "i could fix this" when it comes to anyone's work, let alone the work of someone singular like hirohiko araki. no one's brain operates the way his does, as evidenced by the paltry and weak attempts by the spin-off artists who struggle to recapture that same magic; they all lack whatever je ne se quoi araki has tapped into that's off limits to every other human on planet earth.

straight up, my approach to storytelling is too conventional to be a good replacement for araki's (who seems to be just completely unhinged both on and off the page) so my suggestions to "fix" part 5 are going to be broad strokes and not finely tuned fanfictions. there are just...things i would have like to see happen. and the list is long enough that i think it necessitates that this essay be done in parts. but everything you need to fix it is right there within the existing text. much like the bad meal, the manga (presumably, i only watched the anime. no! stop booing me!) has all the ingredients, the passion, and the skills to create a satisfying end result, its genuinely just missing the ability to bring it all together in a satisfying way. and it is so, so frustrating to watch unfold from the comfort of your couch.

however, for people not in the jojo know-know (who are just reading this bc it started with a pigeon crushing metaphor and you wanted to see where it was going), i do have to explain the historical lens we have to consider with part 5: it wound up being the first evolutionary step of araki's change in art style and story-telling conventions. the fashion aesthetics are wilder, the stakes are bigger, and the stands (WAY) more esoteric. with hindsight, we can look back and understand that it turned out to be weird because he was experimenting in real time (as artists who work serially have to due to the nature of the job) with what he was interested in and what he wanted to explore. so there's nothing WRONG with part 5 in the cosmic sense. and it wasn't without entertainment. and most of the characters were great!

it just that this whole thing causes me enough mental anguish to think about day in and day out to the point of writing what will turn out to be an embarrassing amount of words about my objectively least favorite part of a body of work i've come to adore. its fine. whatever.

come with me...join me whether you know jojo or not, as i try to stay sane tonight and many other nights. watch with concern and glee i rant incoherently about things that will make me seem like an absolute raving lunatic to anyone who is only barely familiar with the franchise and loosely understands it, as i only did, as a series about people who do pokemon but with ghosts who punch people.

first up, i need to do some comic work, and then we can talk about AHHH

OUT! GET IT OUT! GET IT OUT OF HERE! GET THAT BEAST AWAY

AHHH

#jjba #vento aureo #part 5 #essay

[talktomeinclexa]

The Marriage Pact

By: TalktomeinClexa

Rating: Mature

Warning: None

Status: WIP

Summary: Two childhood best friends swear to marry each other if they are still single by 34. As the years pass and no one else seems good enough, the deadline approaches. Will they go through with it? Can one marry their best friend and truly be happy?

***

Chapter 4: Adults Face Decisions

The Earth’s journey around the sun waited for no busy woman. One minute, Lexa was a young graduate student at Columbia, poring over law textbooks to forget her broken heart. The next, she was headed to Clarke’s apartment to celebrate her best friend’s birthday. Her 34th birthday.

Neither of them had mentioned the pact since college. Not even when Lexa turned 34 over the summer. They were intelligent, witty, attractive women. It stood to reason to assume that one, if not both, would be married before they reached the arbitrary milestone. Yet as the years passed, girlfriends—and, in Clarke’s case, boyfriends—came and went, but none made it to the altar.

A few had been around long enough for Lexa to wonder. Clarke and Finn were steady for two years before he couldn’t handle Clarke’s busy schedule as an intern. And Niylah was a kind, chill woman, exactly whom Clarke needed after that. It was a shame they eventually decided they worked better as friends.

Between graduating with excellent grades that secured her an internship in a prestigious firm and passing the bar on her first try, Lexa had had a decent number of women between her sheets as well. But after what happened with Costia, she was careful with her heart and kept the most vulnerable part of her protected behind high walls. The part no one except her family and Clarke could reach. In the end, her girlfriends grew tired of trying and left.

Lexa might not have been consciously sabotaging her recent relationships per se, but she had stopped fighting the strange self-fulfilling prophecy. And always with good reasons.

Callie’s family was insane and hated Lexa. No sensible person wanted in-laws who constantly seemed to want to recruit you for their cult.

And Echo… Well, for starters, none of Lexa’s colleagues and acquaintances would take Lexa seriously if she married someone named after an acoustic phenomenon. Not to mention the woman, although gorgeous and smart, had come with her own set of challenges. And often disappeared without an explanation, leading Clarke to assume she was a spy. Or had a double life. Either way, she was hardly wife material.

But as she drove closer to Clarke’s new apartment back in Polis, Lexa couldn’t help but wonder. Would Clarke make a good wife?

Keep reading

#Clexaweek23 #Clexaweek 2023 #Day 1 - Childhood friends #Childhood Friends #Friends to Lovers #Marriage #The Marriage Pact Clexa

[fgfluidity]

pincera (part 5)

Summary: pincera- Latin, ‘cup-bearer, one who mixes drinks’ || He has a bad feeling about this.

Pairings: Damien/DA, Celine/Mark, Celine/Will

Tags: Alcohol, Bootlegging, Adultery, WWI, Fights, implied Overserving, Abusive Parents, Autistic!Seer!DA

Parts: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

find it on ao3 | donate to my kofi

@opprose @statictay @volbeast @otterlyinluv @flerpdederp @hapikiou (and if anyone else wants to be tagged lmk!

Damien doesn’t make an exceptional habit of lying.

Every now and again, perhaps, a white one here and there, but nothing excessive, nothing harmful. He’s known enough people in his line of work that will lie about every last thing just to get ahead, and it leaves an awful taste in his mouth; how would he really be able to serve anyone if he insisted on keeping the truth from them?

All this to say… he holds his tongue when Mark and Celine announce their engagement.

It’s not really a lie. If he doesn’t say he thinks they’re a bit too volatile to make a good match, well, that’s discretion. He doesn’t have to say that Celine is willful and Mark is self-absorbed; he doesn’t have to say that when Celine’s need for independence clashes with Mark’s need for attention, it’ll end in tears-- or, at least, a big fight.

He can think it, but not say it, and it’s not a lie. Even if it doesn’t feel quite right.

So, he gives them his best smile over the dining table. “I never expected-- at least, not so soon. Congratulations.”

“Well, it was some time coming,” Celine replies, glancing at Mark. He’s beaming, holding her hand on the tablecloth; she, herself, smiles, a soft thing so unlike her, but not unwelcome. “We thought it’d be best before Mark signs his new contract.”

“They can’t enforce any bachelor clauses should I be married first. Besides,” Mark continues, “I didn’t want to wait any longer. We’ve known each other forever--”

“And goodness knows everyone’s been talking about it forever,” Damien finishes for them, discomfited by their affection. He doesn’t dislike affection, per se, but he’s certainly not used to it; not from his parents, and not from Celine and Mark. “Well, I’m happy for you. Have you told anyone else?”

Celine gives a dry chuckle. “No, not quite yet. You’re one of the least likely to make any sort of scene of the issue. Father will be apoplectic, and Wil… you know how he gets about celebrations.”

Yes, indeed-- Damien can party, but Wil can give him a definite run for his money. “I would imagine you’d want to build up to such a thing,” he laughs. “You won’t get much in the same vein from our local legal eagle, but they’ll be sure to gift you flowers. They’re a mite too busy for a party right now, anyway.”

“A shame.” Mark’s watching him, a stare oddly like Celine’s yet tempered with his own gleeful grin. “I’m sure you’d love to bring them along to our engagement dinner.”

They’ve been together far too long. Heat rises in his face, but he’s put far too much effort into learning how to ignore Mark’s jabs to give up and show it now. “They’re your friend as well as mine,” he replies, coolly. “Surely it’d be uncouth to relegate them to simply being a plus one.”

“It might tear them away from all that work. Should you be the one to invite them, that is,” Celine says. She’s less outwardly gleeful than Mark is, her smile restrained to only the corners of her lips rising, but her eyes shine above her glass of water. “For us, perhaps not, but for you, little brother…”

It’s a bit low-- and a bit rich-- for her to trot out that old line, considering she’s barely a few minutes older, but he takes a breath. No more rising to the bait. “Well, I’m honored to be the first to know, at any rate. You…”

He looks between them, just for a moment. Hands clasped, adoration in their eyes-- the whole picture looks perfect, a handsome and well-matched couple. In his gut, however, he feels something deeper. Something festering far beneath the facade, so deep that even Mark and Celine haven’t noticed it yet. He’s not an exceptionally anxious man, but it feels, already, that it will end in disaster.

How could he say so, though? They’re simply too happy.

“You’ll be very happy together,” he says, instead, and gives no more thought to his misgivings.

The thoughts hardly bother him at all again-- at least, until the wedding takes place.

Or, rather, they begin to stir as he checks his mail one day. Among a few different correspondences, a bill for services or two, is a deep scarlet envelope; it’s far finer paper than the rest in the pile, and fine penmanship loops out his name across the front, a black stain on blood red.

He knows before he even opens it that it’ll be a save the date, but his foresight doesn’t spare him any discomfort as he opens it up. In fact, it only grows deeper as he reads down the cream cardstock, the same neat handwriting giving out the address and date.

The date, right above the RSVP. Not even two months from today, hardly four from their engagement dinner.

They’re going too fast, he thinks, sliding the invitation back whence it came, stomach twisting. They’d said as much, hoping to get in front of Mark’s new contract, but he hadn’t expected it to be this fast. Barely a year ago, they weren’t even going together, not a flirtation in sight that couldn’t be chalked up to friendly teasing, and now…

Could it be that they’re aiming to be... honorable?

As the thought comes, a laugh bubbles up with it, half hysterical and half nauseous. Reckless as both of them could be, Celine and Mark both were too intelligent, too calculating, to be careless. Besides, if Celine ever found that she were with child…

No. She’d never allow it, not once, and being honorable to spare her parents the shame was something she would never do.

Could it be that they’re simply that in love?

… Yes, and little exists to discredit that theory, if he looks back. No news of any fights, of any grievances, and any time he sees them both together--

Well, it’s like they always like to call him. They’re moony over each other, in the way all new couples are-- at least, Mark is traditionally moony and Celine her own, more subdued brand, but moony nonetheless.

He could refuse to show, out of principle, or go to either of them with his misgivings, tell another friend so he has backup when he tries to call it all off, but he can’t. Wrong as it feels, perhaps he’s the wrong one; it isn’t even his relationship, so how could he possibly have a say?

He sends in his RSVP, and tries to ignore his discomfort, even when he holds his sister’s arm and steps out onto the runner.

( “Father isn’t coming,” she’d said, the very morning of the ceremony, bustling here and there. “So you’ll be walking me down the aisle.”

He stood in the entryway, dumbfounded. “I can’t say I expected a promotion from honored guest,” he manages, working around his already-prepared script. “I just came in to wish you the best.”

“Well, congratulations on the promotion.” She gave him a considering stare. “Your bowtie is a bit crooked. I don’t much like the tradition, but I want you to do it. I would even if he did want to come.”

He couldn’t help a grin. “I guess the red dress was pushing the more conservative guests a bit too much, then?”

“On the nose.” She finally gave him a smile of her own. “Between that and the alcohol and the jazz, someone’s going to leave on a stretcher, anyway.”)

So, he walks her down, arm in arm, towards Mark’s smiling face. Where what could have been his place in the wedding party, Wil stands in his best; he’s considerably less enthused, eyes only for Celine, his small smile edged bittersweet. Just as it soothes his aching stomach, the thought of someone else with misgivings reinforces the doubt.

He ought to say something. He’ll have a chance to, gauche as it may be to interrupt the ceremony; there’s a line in the proceedings specifically for that.

“You look about as nervous as I feel,” Mark quips when Damien takes his hand to shake, leaning in to keep the rest of the congregation from hearing. “Did something happen before the ceremony?”

His eyes drift over to their mutual friend, not in the wedding party but seated on a decorated white bench, eyes shining even as they fidget in place; Damien shakes his head. “What? No, sorry. Celine just sprung this role on me, I wasn’t really prepared.”

Not a lie, but hardly the whole truth. Still, Mark gives his hand another firm shake, clapping him on the shoulder. “Good on you for stepping up, anyway. Not that she’d give you much choice,” he laughs.

Damien echoes the laugh, managing not to flinch when it rings hollow to his own ears, and gives Celine’s arm over to him. She shoots him a questioning look, but he waves it off with something a bit more confident before retreating back to his seat.

Mark sounds flowery in his vows, a typical thespian, and Celine remains curt, and no one else seems to care-- or even notice-- that they don’t really match.

No one except himself, and Wil, but once drink and music got involved, the concern faded from his features, lost in a whirl of light and laughter amongst the other partygoers.

It’s been too often for him to discredit it, so it remains, doubt swimming in the pit of his stomach every time he hears mention of his sister and brother -in-law. Little even happens between them for a couple years, just the newness of their honeymoon stories, helping them move into Mark’s towering manor, settling into a life together.

When he gets a call in the late evening hours, the only shocking thing is that it’s Mark on the other end and not his sister.

“Mark? To what do I owe the pleasure at…” He looks to the looming grandfather clock nearby, ticking away. “… Nine-thirty?”

“Celine took off,” comes Mark’s answer, tinged with lingering heat. “We had… some words.”

As he’d always imagined they would. Damien bites back a sigh. “I see… I’m surprised you called me, though, considering. Aren’t you worried I’ll take her side?”

“It’s a risk, but you’re level headed. Wil isn’t, and you’re closer to it than our other acquaintances-- besides, you’re fun to drink with.”

Drink at a party, perhaps, but drowning sorrows is an entirely different experience, and not one he’s particularly knowledgeable of. Still, if a friend is asking for his company… “I suppose, if only for a bit. I do have to be at the office tomorrow.”

“A hangover has never stopped you.” He hangs up right after, but the slight smile in his voice worked well enough to ease his worries.

Mark’s in the den when he arrives, ushered in by Benjamin. Mark keeps a neat appearance as much as he can, and remains neat for the most part, but his hair sticks up oddly, anger in the tight lines around his face. In one hand, a glass of brown alcohol sloshes, half-full; the suspected culprit, one of Damien’s experiments, sits mostly-empty on the coffee table before him.

“I hope that wasn’t full at the start of the night,” Damien comments lightly as Benjamin steps away with his coat.

“It wasn’t. I’m not that out of sorts.” Mark sits up a bit, smoothing back his hair with a hand. “I took the time to make a drink, actually. I brought that over for you.”

As Damien approaches, sinking into the couch cushions, he notes the glass once more-- indeed, it holds a sliver of lemon peel, the slight scent of something green, herbaceous. “I appreciate the thought. So… what happened?”

Mark scoffs, shaking his head. “It was hardly anything. I proposed a vacation for the both of us after my new feature wraps, but she wants to go off somewhere in the middle of the woods! I could take her anywhere, give her anything, and still she wants the middle of nowhere.”

“I see…” Damien takes the time fixing his own glass to properly construct his response. “Well… you know how Celine is. She likes to follow her own path-- whether or not we understand it, ourselves.”

“I know that,” Mark replies waspishly, “but I thought once we married she’d be more interested in time together. She only just returned from a trip like that. I’m happy to have a little time apart, but…”

He takes a long drink. Once he swallows, he turns to Damien, eyes pained. “Do you think… do you think we were a mistake? That it was never going to be…?”

It’s the best chance he’ll ever get to speak his mind, right in front of him. A direct question from someone wanting the truth.

When the truth would destroy a marriage and ruin two good reputations in the process, not to mention break their hearts. Could he really be so cruel?

His stomach churns around the alcohol in his stomach, and he must look away from Mark. Hopefully, it only looks like he’s choosing his words. “No, no, I don’t… I think you’re strong personalities, yes, but I don’t think it’s always going to be… I think you’ll both be alright. Just give her space, and you’ll have your time together, too.”

(He regrets it so much later on, after everything. He should have told him the truth, should have been honest from the start about it. Maybe it would have spared everyone the pain and death and misery.

At the time, though, Mark’s relieved smile felt like the right outcome.)

--------

Sazerac

--

50ml/2oz rye whiskey

10ml/2 barspoons simple syrup

2 dashes Peychaud’s bitters

10ml/2 barspoons absinthe, to rinse the glass

lemon peel, to garnish

Stir all ingredients (save the absinthe) in a mixing glass with ice. Rinse a chilled rocks glass with the absinthe. Strain the drink into the glass and add the twist of lemon.

A complex creation, an acquired taste-- strong and almost hallucinogenic, but remarkably similar to the Perfect Manhattan. As long as you don’t look too close. Best to come clean about the ingredients-- one wouldn’t want a tragic outcome later.

#pincera #fg writes #wkm fic #wkm fanfiction #wkm damien #wkm celine #y/n da #actor mark #the colonel

[valpoupdates]

MARCH CALENDAR POSTING...

So much to see, so much to do, so little time ! Lucky for you, here in the Valparaíso Region, we keep track of it just for you ! Unless stated otherwise, these activities are optional. Residents do not have to take part in these if they don't wish to ! These can be used for threads throughout the month but new threads can't be started for these activities once the month is up. Please track the valpocalendar tag to stay updated month to month ( ©️ )

Casablanca Activities

March 14th: Aire Libre will be hosting an all day Japanese movie marathon in celebration of Japan’s White Day, a reverse Valentine’s Day where women generally buy gifts and show grand romantic gestures toward their partners.

10 AM: Asako I & II — Asako, una joven que vive en Osaka, experimenta el amor a primera vista cuando se encuentra con Baku. 1 PM: Kimi no na wa — Dos adolescentes comparten una conexión profunda y mágica al descubrir que están intercambiando cuerpos. 4 PM: Shall We Dance? — El exitoso contador Shohei Sugiyama tiene una esposa amorosa y una hermosa hija, pero por alguna razón se siente insatisfecho con su vida. 7 PM: Your Eyes Tell — Rui es un ex-kickboxer que se encuentra a Akari, una chica ciega. 10 PM: Majo no Takkyūbin — Kiki, de 13 años, se muda a una ciudad costera con su gato parlante, Jiji, para pasar un año sola, de acuerdo con la tradición de su pueblo para las brujas en entrenamiento.

March 15th-17th: With City Hall's assistance, Isidora is hosting the 36th Fiesta de la Vendimia, the Grape Harvest Festival!  It starts each day from 10 AM - 8 PM.  There will be a variety of events to celebrate high quality grapes, delicious wine, and the community around you.  Come enjoy fun games (like sack racing or grape stomping competition), beautiful sights (such as art provided by local artists and the grape maze), the llama petting zoo, and more! 

March 30th: Inherited Escape is hosting a book club from 6:30 PM - 8:30 PM. The book of the month is Pride & Prejudice, a personal favorite of the owner, Oliver Alaya. You do not have to have the book finished ( or read ) in order to come and participate! Snacks and beverages will be provided. Stay updated by following Inherited Escapes, @inheritedlandscapes , on Instagram!

Quilpué Activities

March 1st: Gimnasio O2 Aire is rolling out a new exercise program, and they’re looking for 10 dedicated people to help prove the program’s effectiveness.  You’ll meet Wednesday - Sunday from 6 AM - 7:30 AM for a private group session for 30 days.  Included is a nutritionist consultation, new work-out clothes with the Gimnasio O2 Aire brand, and a floral yoga mat.

March 8th: The Plants and Pants Swap was created by a local Chilean influencer who wanted to emphasize reusing clothes rather than throwing them away in landfills, and they’re hosting the swap again on Sunday from 1 PM - 6 PM in El Jardín.  Bring clothes or plants to trade with others!  Nothing will be sold or bought; only trades.

March 19th-24th: Caos Tattoos is proud to host 2 guest artists: @skars__, a neotraditional artist from Mexico City, and @tayeh_studio, a fine line and microrealism artist from Bogotá!  Please reach out to the artists through their instagram or email the Caos team at [email protected] to schedule with them.  Appointments only for guest artists; no walk-ins.

March 21st: If you’re a new player still learning the ropes, or if you’ve always been interested but never knew where to get started, come to Casa Dragones’ D&D Newbie Night from 6 PM - 11 PM! There will be several tables with experienced dungeon masters ready to help you have the time of your life as a 3rd level character in uniquely fun oneshots!  Space is limited so please sign up online!

March 29th: Sabor 24 Horas is hosting a karaoke night from 9 PM - 3 AM and it is BYOB.  For tonight only, guessing the staff’s favorite song of the week will also give you the opportunity to request for whatever you want that’s not on the menu.

Valparaíso Activities

March 3rd: Chasing Suns and Rescue Mission have teamed up with the Valparaíso Centro Médico for a Mental Health Marathon to help raise awareness about mental health and help raise funds for local nonprofits and programs that provide mental health services to the community.  If you’d like to participate and donate, please contact [email protected].  If you’d like to volunteer, please email [email protected]. 

March 31st: Cerro Barrón Street Market is hosting an Oddities Market from 5 PM - 11 PM.  All vendors will be selling items that align with the theme of oddities.  Expect to see exotic pets, cursed objects, macabre paintings, and unique knick knacks.

Viña del Mar Activities

March 7th: It is International Book Day, and what better way to spend it than at a free children’s book reading event hosted by Palacio Rioja. From 4 PM - 7 PM, there will be several story times by guest readers, arts and crafts where students can draw their favorite scenes from the books being read, as well as several important age-appropriate discussions based on the book themes ( bullying and self-acceptance ).

March 28th: Meet the drag kings of the Valparaíso Region at the Kings of Valparadise Show hosted by Club Divine! From 8 PM - 10 PM, celebrate drag, dance, and performance with a themed cocktail in hand!

#valpocalendar

[1ivinqdeadqir1]

SHADES OF COOL: Part IIII

Chapter 4: THE ELEPHANT MAN

A/N: Okay guys!! its been a while!! I hope you enjoy today's chapter and I hope you had an amazing Christmas/new years (if you celebrate) also this isn't proof read, i'll check over it tomorrow morning i just really wanted to get this out for you guys ASAP!!

WARNINGS: mentions of stalking, allusions to psychological abuse, violence, blood, lalo being lalo (sorry if I missed anything!)

word count: 5.8k

parts: 1 2 3

7 am

There was a scratch on the box that ran from the top left to the bottom right corner. It’d been the last model left in stock, and after paying, Ignacio sat in his car for a few minutes trying to buff out the white line. Lalo wouldn’t care, and he didn’t either, but he had been putting off the idea of driving to a random lady's house in the early morning. He sat there for 10 minutes before throwing the phone onto the right-hand passenger side and buckling up, his mind elsewhere as he rode to the young woman's home- which wasn’t as far out as he had initially predicted. The house was big enough for one person to live by themselves comfortably. It looked cosy. He procrastinated getting out too soon, awaiting movement or signs that someone was home. After 5 minutes he figured there wasn’t much point in delaying the inevitable.

A slight breeze brushed his neck as he took quick steps toward the front door, box in hand. Lalo had told him she’d be home, today was her day off. Nacho didn’t know what he had in mind regarding you. You were just a girl, 22 years old- a kid compared to him. What business did his boss have with somebody 22 years his junior? It hadn’t surprised him though, Lalo seemed like the type of man to attract young women. 

His knuckle clattered against the door, and his hand fell to his side when he heard feet padding across the floor. Lalo hadn’t given him a strict set of instructions per se, he’d asked as though he’d had a choice whether to pick up the device. “One second!” someone called through the wooden door. He cleared his throat, feet tapping the ground as he lingered, thumbing the scratch on top of the box. 

“Morning,” she said lifelessly, leaning her arms against the door, body hidden behind the frame. 

Nacho regarded the woman for a moment, nodding, “uh, morning” her head tipped to the side and her hair fell tepidly down past her shoulder “Lalo asked me to drop this off for you” he pushed the box forward in one hand, and she stepped back at the impact, brows furrowed inward as he remained on the doorstep grimacing. 

“Thanks,” she could’ve scoffed, but hadn’t and instead chose to smile up at him. He glanced to the side as she spoke, hands layered together. “You’re Ignacio, right? I think I’ve seen you at the restaurant and Casa Tranquila.” He’d been wearing a gold link chain around his neck, beneath his maroon button-down. Expensive, she thought, asking herself whether that restaurant Lalo’s uncle Hector owned was earning enough to warrant Ignacio a gold chain. Maybe, it's fake. or a gift. “Nacho is fine, and yeah, I’m there quite a bit… “he replied, fidgeting with his rolled-up sleeves. “How’s Hector?”

“Alright” by this point the woman had stepped out from behind the door, arms folded across her chest. “I’m y/n by the way, I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced,” he flashed y/n a warm smile, and she held out her hand- pushing it forward similarly to how he’d handed her the box a moment ago.

“Right.” Nacho took her hand in his, giving it a firm shake before letting it slip back to its original place, “Do you have Lalo’s number still written down somewhere?”

“I do, yeah, thanks for dropping it off,” she began to trace the white line where the box had been damaged; it was the same model as the phone she’d once owned- were they still producing them? “It's fine, I'll see you around, y/n”

------

When Nacho returned, Lalo was working on his car and his hands were stained with motor oil and grease. He’d talked to him about the stalker, Daniel. He bought from them often, complained about the product and then started buying his drugs from someone else before realising that he couldn’t get anything as good as what they sold. A backhanded compliment that would’ve been entertaining had Daniel refrained from stalking the woman who’d been taking care of his Tio for over a month.

Ignacio leaned against the workbench, forearms pressed across his chest as he glanced over, Lalo smiled widely, tossing a hand towel over his shoulder. “Took you long enough, Ignacio,” he ignored the fact Nacho rolled his eyes. “I’d half-convinced myself that you ran off with the girl…” 

“No,” Nacho said pointedly, lips pursed together. 

The fumes from the car had already begun to give Ignacio a migraine and he wondered how Lalo’s skull remained intact whilst he worked on his car. He could hardly hear himself think. 

“How is she? La Niña,” water slipped through his fingers as he scrubbed at the stains, thinking of the girl he’d dropped off last night and how soft her hands had been when wrapped around him. After a moment of silence, he spoke up again, the squeak of the faucet punctuating his speech “Ignacio?”

The shorter man sighed “She’s okay,” Nacho thought back to earlier, how you’d smiled at him and outstretched your hand for him to shake. You were pretty enough, soft looking in a way that made him want to pinch your rosy cheeks, but he’d keep that to himself knowing that Lalo would take it the wrong way. “I gave her the phone and asked if she had your number, she said yeah and introduced herself properly” 

As Nacho spoke Lalo busied himself by drying off his hands with the towel he had draped across his shoulder, nodding along. He had the image of you in his car last night at the forefront of his mind. The way you’d pressed your small hands against your cheeks as you wept, the sniffles and stammering as you tried to explain what was going on. I’m not crazy, she had said. Though he hadn’t come to that conclusion then and still believed that the way you were acting wasn’t irrational. When you’d first met, he took notice of the sharp intelligence behind your eyes, you knew how to handle yourself. you weren’t stupid or easy to fool and he admired that. He’d yet to meet someone as cunning and charming as him, however, based on what he had witnessed first-hand in person and over the phone, you were a force to be reckoned with. 

“She’s a sweet thing, right?” Lalo asked, not expecting much from Ignacio, the man that hardly spoke at all. “Yeah, she’s alright,” alright, a safe answer. Not too keen but not overly enthusiastic. That is the perfect response to a question like that. 

Lalo cleared his throat and tossed the towel onto the workbench, sitting down on a foldable metal chair that squeaked quietly beneath the weight of his body. “so, this gringo, Daniel, you know where it works, right?”

“Yeah, he works at this little rundown dive bar in the middle of town… it’s him stalking her, I had a few of the guys check out his place after you called last night, he has a bunch of weird shit in his room… photos, a toothbrush.. all sorts of junk.”

A toothbrush? What the fuck? He’d heard of men stealing women's panties but their toothbrushes… this guy was more fucked up than he’d initially thought.

“Aye, toothbrush? Dios mio, that’s fucking weird…”

Nacho laughed dryly, and Lalo almost felt like he’d imagined it. A beaming smile pulled at the corners of his lips, his dark, warm eyes concentrated with mischief. “I'm not having this pendejo keep scaring the shit out of her, she’s the only person Hector gets on with up here…” 

Turning his body to face Lalo, Nacho spoke up “Well what do you want to do about it?”

What do you want to do about it? Ignacio’s question, as simple as it was, ran through Lalo’s mind for hours after. 

------

It was 1:35 in the afternoon when the pair arrived at ‘Louie’s pub & grill’, Nacho had his window open, arm slung half across the frame. He kept his other hand loosely on the wheel. “He’s the one with the black hair- that one,” he said, nodding toward a man leaning against the fire door, fingers curled around a cigarette. Looking at him now, had he not already known the age of the man leaning, Lalo would’ve guessed that he was around 35. The shadows cut into his face like stone, his shoulders slumped forward- ageing him a good 5 years. The dark circles encompassing his eyes were so noticeable - even from the other side of the street- that for a moment Nacho had thought he’d been in a fight.

“So what, is he a  bartender here or something?”

Nacho turned, and the feeling of the warm air brushed his face. He shrugged, scratching his jaw as Lalo leaned over to get a better look. He took a breath, “ mouse said he gets his shit at around 9:30, right after work- he’ll be done in a few hours, best approach him then… if that’s what you’re planning on doing”

Laughing, Lalo moved his palms against the rough texture of his jeans, “You’re going to help me, you know that, right?” 

Nacho faltered for a moment and nodded his head ‘yeah.’ He couldn’t exactly say no to Lalo, stating directly that he didn’t want a part of whatever weird romantic gesture this was. Hey baby, you’re being stalked? How about I eliminate the guy for you? Oh- please, it’s nothing. Sometimes when he sat with Lalo and looked at him, he saw Tuco and then remembered who he was dealing with. Salamanca. Salamanca. Sa-la-man-ca. That name had repeated over and over. It no longer sounded like a word.

“We’ll get here at eight and see what happens.” He said, waiting for a reply which came in a low hum from Ignacio. “Besides, I wonder what this Hijo de puta has to say about it.” 

------

Back at your house, you’d just finished setting up your phone. It was relatively easy - you had all the essential numbers written down on a pad: Your grandmas, grandpas, coworkers, and a few others. You currently sit with your hands cupped around a mug of coffee, glancing between that and the TV. The show playing was rather dull, ‘friends’, the American sitcom your mother loved. As the laughing track echoed around the small living room, you began to wonder what Lalo was doing and shot him a message.

‘Hey, It’s y/n  :)’ 

A beam of sunlight catches you in the eyes, and you wince- shuffling off the couch to shut the curtains that’d been left ajar. Taking the heavy linen in your hand, you stop and glimpse the road. There’s a car that you haven’t seen before on the other side of the street, parked on the curb. You press firmly into the curtain and drag them shut. 

------

Buzz. buzz. Buzz. 

There’s a sigh, and Nacho dismisses it as he rounds a corner onto the street of El Michoacáno. Lalo was tapping away at the keypad to send his reply, smiling in the passenger seat as he skimmed over the message on the phone again. You must’ve already set up the phone he’d brought over; he severely doubted anyone else would have had Salamanca in such a bubbly mood from a text alone. You seem like a nice girl and having now finally met you. He understood the appeal- and how a stalker would grind Lalo’s gears- but still, he wondered whether or not he was being irrational. Or if you were. 

Your name is light on Lalo’s chest when he answers the phone. There’s humming, gravel crunching beneath ridiculously blue loafers and lalo wandering further into the parking lot. For privacy, Nacho assumes, and in turn, takes it upon himself to hide out in the restaurant and count money for the time being.

“So, you’re liking the new phone then?” 

There’s a laugh, and a small sigh, “yeah it’s exactly like my old one but… newer, of course” you wonder whether or not actually to get dressed today, or if maybe a day of rest would be more appropriate. 

“I’m glad,” he’s scratching the scruff of his chin as you sit in silence, “are you free tomorrow?” There’s a low hum, and muttering as if you’re trying to list all the things you need to do, it’s cute, and he doesn’t even realise that he’s smiling at your weird chattering. 

“Yeah, I should be,” you said, his name soft against your tongue- you loved saying it. Lalo Salamanca, it was almost poetic. “Why?” 

“Let me take you out for dinner, my treat” 

“But Lalo, you’ve already bought me a phone- I had to save up for ages to get the last one… how do you- how can you afford it?”

He scoffs, kicking at the gravel beneath his feet, the blue of his loafers a stark contrast to the chalky white pathway. “Oh? Well, I’m a little offended, querida.”

You laugh quietly, it’s light and feminine in a way that leads him to believe you’re holding back your genuine laugh. 

“No no, I didn’t mean it like that…but seriously, you shouldn’t- “ 

“-So what you’re saying is that you don’t want me asking just anyone out, right? “ his laugh’s a low grumble. “How controlling. ”

Cheeks rosy, you curl your fists into your lap and try to hide the ridiculous smile that’s drawn across your face; you get up, take the phone and walk into your bedroom to have a root around for something to wear. Maybe a nice dress tomorrow, something that’d make you look less ‘Grey's Anatomy’ and more ‘Baywatch’. Men liked ‘Baywatch’, right?

“Hey if you’re free later maybe we can… meet up? Go see a movie or something?” 

He’d been leaning against the side of the building, sighing and pushing his hair out of his face for what felt like the thousandth time. As much as he’d like to, there were a few things he had to do today- business related. Not that he didn’t like the idea of you picking out a movie for you to watch together. “I can’t today querida,” there’s silence on the other end of the phone. Chewing the inside of your cheek, disappointed, you tried to keep yourself occupied to ignore what he had just said. 

“But if we were to go and see one,” his words draw you from the moment of embarrassment. “What would you suggest?” 

The phone had been placed on your bed as you searched through your drawers, speakerphone on so you could hear him perfectly. You set a pile of clothes back into the chest, humming. “Well, you’ve heard of Quentin Tarantino, right?” 

“Of course, Pulp Fiction, he’s the guy that has a thing for…fee?t”

“Yeah, that guy, he’s just released that movie… kill bill 2? Maybe we could go see it another time when you’re less busy”

Your voice is somewhat quieter, and he almost folds- almost. “Maybe, we’ll see.” It’s odd, how for a moment the thought of you enjoying such violent films makes his chest warm and his lip twitch. You have good taste, and he’s more than happy to endure the Tarantino movie marathons he could see you both having in the future. “Alright” your voice is quiet, almost inaudible. “I have to go now, querida, I’ll call you later,”

He says as you sit down against your mattress, palms pressed into the soft cotton quilt. You nod, ‘yeah’ beneath your breath, and there’s a hollow feeling in your belly. “I’d like that… it was nice talking to you lalo- thanks again”

Despite what he had done, you weren’t confident that everything Lalo had done so far- snap your phone in half and toss it into the backseat- would do anything to stop the pestering Daniel would hammer you with.  

------

For the remainder of the day, you pottered around your home- tidying up places that’d begun to gather dust or that you figured needed a spring cleaning. You hadn’t heard from Lalo, so when there came another knock on your door at 7 pm, a conspicuous feeling of helplessness returned. By the oak wood door, there was a small side table where a few trinkets lay atop its frame- a shallow dish filled with loose change, bobby pins, a few scented candles - and recently,  you had added a small can of pepper spray. Just in case. Maybe it was paranoia, you were overreacting a little bit- hell, it might not even be Daniel. With the cylindrical canister comes the strength to move closer, and with the resilience, you reach out for the deadbolt and slide it through the hilt. 

There's another knock - this one firmer and more opposing when compared to the one prior - which makes your stomach turn with the handle and hinges.

------

At 8, Lalo and Ignacio sat parked in an alleyway beside the bar. Whilst stroking his moustache, lalo looks out onto the street, down the narrow walkway and thinks of what the weirdo would go and do with his evening had he and Nacho stayed out of it. As much as he liked you, Lalo would never go as far as stealing your toothbrush- or even breaking into your home to get close to you. It was almost comical how this ex of yours somehow managed to single-handedly become one of the most pathetic men Lalo had the displeasure of knowing. To his left, nacho’s tense in the driver's seat, one hand on the wheel and another on his thigh; his brown eyes flicked between the rearview mirror and the dashboard. There weren’t many people strung around the side of the bar, the trashbags and brick walls caked with grime warded off any unwanted attention from passers-by. Daniel had smoked here earlier, the guy didn’t have a car so they could probably get a hold of him relatively easily. Approach him, jab a gun into his side and lure him to the car. Easy, someone as spineless as this guy wouldn’t be much of a problem, not for Ignacio and certainly not for Lalo.

“I think I see him, that guy there,” Nacho says, nodding at a man that’s currently shrugging on a brown leather jacket that looked tight around the middle. Lalo huffed, perking up in his seat when Daniel came into his field of view. What a complete and utter weirdo. “Tape?” He asked as if Nacho had forgotten his crucial role in the kidnapping. Ignacio sighed and pulled out a thick wad of silver duct tape, Lalo grinned wide, patted him on the shoulder and jumped out with his gun at his waist. 

Daniel pulls a cigarette from a crumpled-up box of Marlboro reds’ and Placing it between chapped lips, he pats at his coat and jeans looking for a lighter.

“Need a light?” Lalo called out, motioning toward a zippo he’d had tucked away in his back pocket. There’s a smile on Daniel's face, wide and stupid looking- and his eyes wrinkle with fatigue. “thanks “ he doesn’t even flinch when lalo steps beside him, holding up the flame a few inches away from his face. “No problemo”

He thinks that’s it, that the two would part ways and this moustachioed stranger would leave and walk in the other direction- but he doesn’t. Daniel began to wonder whether or not the guy had something he wanted to ask- maybe he was a tourist or someone he owed money to. As he waited there, taking the first puff of his cigarette, lalo reached out to press a firm hand atop the man's shoulder. He stood around 5’9”, his shoulders were broad and his hair a mess of dark brown atop his scalp. “I don’t think we’re done here, mijo” Lalo says, his lips pursed in a straight line across his face. Daniel waits patiently- shuffling in his spot. The cigarette trembles between his cracked lips, and falls to the ground when something dull jabs him in his side. “If you shout or scream I won’t hesitate to put a cap in your baboso ass, okay?” there’s still a lightness to Lalo’s tone when he further stabs the gun into daniel’s side- punctuating his statement. Daniel’s breaths are shaky, and all he can manage is a feeble nod. Pushing a hand to Danny's shoulder, Lalo gives him a firm squeeze and walks him to the trunk of his car. 

Standing with the tape ready in his hands, Nacho binds Daniel’s wrists, mouth and eyes. There's a moment between himself and Lalo, silence, that is interrupted by the muffled cries of Daniel. Nacho goes to pacify him, but before he does Lalo lifts his arm and hits the butt of his gun right between Daniel’s eyes. Effectively shoving him into a state of unconsciousness. His body slumps against the open trunk, his neck angled awkwardly to the side. There’s already a bruise forming on his head. Lalo notices it when he lifts the guy's legs up and over into the back. “That was easier than I thought it would be” Nacho sighs, binding Daniel’s ankles together. The tearing of the duct tape rasps through the silence, though is muffled by the obnoxious sound of music panging through the brick walls. “I guess so, we’re a good team ay?!”  he closes the compartment of the car and rounds Ignacio in the alleyway to get to his passenger seat. as they pull out of the alley, it feels as though there isn’t a fully grown man curled up in the back.

------

“Mom” you whine as she springs through, across the threshold and into your home. Her Louboutins heel leaves small circles in her wake- all across your carpet. “Honey, you really need to start answering the door quicker!” the shrillness of her voice makes you want to dry heave all over the newly dotted carpet. “Mom, I was doing something” you try to keep your tone level- and grasp at whatever patience it is you have left, though when she turns her head sharply in your direction and scrunches up her face, you can almost physically feel the patience evaporate from your body and out into the hallway. 

Her wide, marbled eyes scan your form from head to toe, “Doesn’t seem like you were up to anything, you’re still in your pyjamas” you think you hear a laugh, a chuckle- giggle, maybe. But for the sake of your own sanity, you push it aside and follow her into the small kitchen. Before you can even open your mouth she’s opening up your cupboards and pulling a half-empty bottle of wine from the shelves. Her arm drops a little as she picks it up, as though she’d expected it to be lighter. 

“Oh my little baby,” the stream of red runs from within the bottle out into the wine glass she’d pulled from the washrack. For a split second, you imagine what she’d do if you spilt the cheap wine over her dress… but instead, you take a deep breath, “why are you here? I told you I don’t want anything to do with you, please leave.”

Your mother laughs and places the bottle down hard, the dull thud rings through the walls and out into the hall. “Excuse me? Who do you think you’re talking to young lady?” you don’t reply, and she seems to grow even more frustrated. Though the lack of wrinkling at her brow leads you to believe that she’s had another few botox injections since your last meeting. 

“I am your mother how dare you talk to me like that after everything I’ve done for you” she pauses, and you simply fold your arms across your chest. You haven't seen her for months, and before your last meeting, it’d been 2 years. She dumps all her emotional baggage onto you as a child- psychologically fucks up your head and leaves you with your father's parents. It was clear that she had never wanted children, your mom. She was always cruel and your father had known that. Despite his issues, he tried, he tried to be a good parent but your mother just wouldn’t budge. She’d degrade the both of you, you hadn’t understood it then, as a baby, but now when you sit and think about it you begin to realise that you had spent your adolescence missing a woman that had never really even been there. You see your dad sometimes, usually when you’re with your grandparents. He’d come over when sober and pass out on the couch, drooling everywhere and mumbling in his pungent clothes as you sit in the kitchen with grandma- peeling vegetables or knitting. Your grandpa would handle your father, he’d talk him around for a few hours whilst he calmed down. 

You hadn’t known what had turned your father into a mess. He used to be bright and full of hope, whereas now he’s quite the opposite. As a child, you’d ask your grandma if it was your fault. if you were the reason your parents argued and your dad gulped down his feelings. she‘d shake her head ‘no’ and give  you a squeeze. But as an adult, you’d accepted that your birth had contributed to the fall. 

Yet as you stand before her, no matter how much you are screaming at yourself to give her hell- you don’t. You just stand there. Placid in the doorframe. 

She starts to talk about her new fiancee, Martin or something. He’s a Swedish inventor and filthy rich- you want to laugh but bite your tongue as she rattles on about how well he treats her and how much you’d like him. God, she hardly knew you. It was as though she had made her own version of you in her head- the perfect daughter. Pretty, smart, funny- forgiving, naive. She just expected you now, after 2 and a half years apart, to just accept everything that had happened. As though it were as easy as treating a scraped knee or sore stomach. Nothing was easy with her. If she was a scraped knee it’d have to be amputated. If she were a stomach ache she’d probably be Irritable bowel syndrome. Emphasis on irritable. 

“- soooo I want you to be a part of the wedding!” 

Her feigned smile and chirpy voice draw you from your own thoughts. Your eyes are blown wide and your hands go cold at the tips. She hadn’t ever asked you to be a part of something. “You want me to take part in y-your wedding?” you feel like crying. One part of you really wants this- the part of you that's craved motherly love for years, yet the other is seething with rage- why would she come to you now with this news and just throw it at you expecting you to just accept without questioning where the fuck she had been.

“Yes! Precisely dear, Martin has two daughters, both around your age and he’s made me realise that i-” she stops, and clutches at the purse you had only just noticed in her hands. “I haven’t really appreciated you over the years, In all honesty, I've been subpar- yet I want to try and rebuild our relationship as mother and daughter.” 

Rebuild. Funny, it’d only be rebuilding if there were something there to work on. You think, bitterly, as though there isn’t even the slightest possibility of this being at all genuine. “I don’t know if I believe you.”

She winces, and places down the glass of wine. You hardly focus on the sound of her heels clicking against the linoleum, her expensive perfume overloads your senses and you suddenly feel like sneezing. “Look, darling- y/n, I’m being honest with you love, and actually… Martin’s working with a law firm and we’re going to be in town for a while so I was wondering if you’d want to go out for a meal with us?”

“I’ll think about it.” the words are out of your mouth before you can truly grasp what you’ve said- and how it must sound. “I’m not saying yes,” you flinch as she reaches out to touch your shoulder- a dismal attempt at comfort. “But I’ll- I just have to think about it. How long  are you in town for?”

“About a month.”

“That’s fine, I’ll talk to you before then.”

You think you catch a glimmer of hope in her tired eyes. “Oh- you can invite a friend with you too, if you’d like, a guy friend maybe?”

You brush off her awkward attempt at teasing, though, for a split second you see his trimmed moustache and wide smile in your head. Lalo. 

------

“I swear i don’t know anythin-” there's a thud as lalo hits Daniel again, taking his shoulder in one hand and plunging his fist into his face with the other. The man's arms are bound to a chair, his feet taped to the legs as blood trickles from his nose onto his shirt. They’d been there for what felt like hours, in a warehouse out of town- where ocho loco had set everything up for them. There was no one around for miles, no one to hear his screams as lalo questioned and tortured him to his heart's contempt. 

“Oh so you don’t know y/n?” he says, standing upright, hands on his hips. There are blooms of red on his shirt and at his knuckles, and the red runs thick down onto the damp floor- puddling. “you’re saying my guys are wrong? That these AREN’T pictures of y/n, showering, changing- they’re all what, relatively recent too, kid” lalo tosses the pictures to daniels feet, as his head is angled down at the ground. Limp, awkwardly. Nacho folds his arms nearby, looking at all the evidence his guys had broken in to get. There were two pairs of underwear, a plastic retainer, weird scribblings and collages. The panties looked to be somewhat crunchy, and he dreaded the thought of what that poor cotton had done to deserve such a cruel fate.  

“Just please let me go I swear just FUCKING LET ME GO!” he sobbed, hiccuping as lalo continued to mock him, and beat him. The guy looked unrecognisable; his head was plump and plum coloured in areas, his eyes swollen shut- the size of billiard balls. A thick sludge of snot and blood continued to fall and dry at his nostrils and busted lip. His teeth were all painted maroon, and slobber ran down his chin and dripped onto his lap. His hands were raw at the wrists from how he had been struggling in his chair- trying to get away. They’d upgraded from duct tape to rope, coarse thick hairs that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he whipped himself around. It was animalistic, how Lalo had kept him alive. As if this show of desperation was entertaining.

The guy was a creep for sure, god knows how long the stalking had gone on. Nacho wasn’t sure how he felt about it, how he felt about Lalo breaking each finger from the root of its joint whilst saying “try and take pictures of naked women now, Vete a la chingada, motherfucker.” the ear piercing sound of screaming was enough to make nacho wince. He used some tissue and picked up the pairs of underwear and walked over to shove them in that asshole's mouth. 

Lalo turned to look at nacho and placed his hands on his hips as he shoved the underwear into the pervert's mouth. “Geez nachito, I wish I’d thought of that one”

Daniel continued to sob, and Nacho took a few steps back to marvel at how lalo had expertly painted this gringo black and blue all over. The guy reminded him of a lump of squeezed playdough. It was like something you’d see at the end of a boxing match or during a zombie apocalypse. 

“Okay, well, toss me the pliers… if he won’t talk I guess we’ll just have to go digging for answers,” the taller of the pair sighs, heavily, and holds out a hand. Nacho is quick to deliver the pliers, the ones that he is all too familiar with. They were the same pair he’d threatened that lawyer with. Saul Goodman. “As much as I admire your craftsmanship, we’re gonna have to take these babies out” he's talking to nacho directly as he fishes the panties out from daniels mouth. He wriggles around violently, whipping his shoulders and head from side to side. The job proves harder than he’d initially anticipated, so Ignacio walks over and pries his mouth open with his bare hands. There’s resistance for a moment, but he stops resisting- stops whining ‘no’ - after a few seconds.  

Lalo thanks his friend, and shuffles closer- to get a better look. He pokes around a little with the pliers- singing to himself in Spanish- before deciding on a molar, one at the back that he’d definitely miss.

“WAIH  WAIH OHAY OHAY!!” he sobbed uncontrollably and wailed as lalo began to pull the tooth out from its gum. God his breath stunk. 

“I HID IT i fuhin did ih ohay?!?! I loh err!”

Lalo motions for Ignacio to let go of his mouth, so he can understand what the guy was saying. 

“Go on”

“I did it! Okay, I love her- i- just please let me go! I’ll do anything please!”

Ignacio walks to his side and shoves his hands in his pockets. Lalo looks up at him, and then back at Daniel. Lalo inches closer once again, and takes him by the nape of his neck- to steady him as he rockets a fist into his gut again. Winding him.

“The only reason I’m keeping you alive, Daniel, is because I think if I downright killed you, she’d notice… you have a family right?  that care about you?”

Daniel nodded twice, and Lalo tries to hide the smile tugging at his lips. If only his familia knew what he got up to on his days off.

“Well, if I find out - and I will find out - if you’ve called her up or visited her home, I will put a bullet right through your thick skull.” there's no lilt in his tone as he stares blankly at the man before him. The elephant man. “And if you go to the police, or tell anyone what happened here, I will kill your mother, I will kill your father and I kill your little sister,” he stops, and Nacho's eyes widen momentarily. “What was her name again? Lilly? Such a beautiful name... I wonder what Lilly would think of you now, or how the name Lilly would look on a gravestone”

The elephant man is panting and shaking his head violently like a caged animal. “No no no you can’t- You won’t!” 

“But i will!” Lalo chuckles and shakes his head- as though to mock Daniel’s struggle. 

“I think I’ve made myself pretty clear, no?”

#lalo salamanca x y/n #lalo salamanca x reader #eduardo 'lalo' salamanca #lalo salamanca #lalo x reader #better call saul x reader #better call saul #nacho varga

[once-upon-an-imagine]

2023 Wrapped Tag Game

Thank you so much for tagging me @thatdammchickennugget 😁

To celebrate 2023 coming to an end, create a moodboard inspired by your favourite memories of the year and answer any (or all) of the questions below

1. Top 3 songs of 2023 2. Top 3 artists of 2023 3. Top 3 albums of 2023 4. Top 3 movies of 2023 5. Top 3 tv shows of 2023 6. Top 3 books of 2023 7. Top 3 youtubers of 2023 8. Top 3 podcasts of 2023 9. Top 3 videogames of 2023 10. Top 3 celebrity crushes of 2023 11. Top 3 fictional crushes of 2023 12. Top 3 places you visited in 2023 13. Top 3 new things you tried in 2023 14. Top 3 things you were grateful for in 2023 15. Top 3 things you are looking forward to in 2024

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

1. Top 3 songs of 2023

Champagne Supernova - Oasis

I've Been Waiting - The Scarlet Opera

Caraluna - Bacilos & Carlos Vives

2. Top 3 artists of 2023

Ed Sheeran

Harry Styles

Carlos Vives (saw him live for the first time this year!😁)

3. Top 3 albums of 2023 (this are all 2022 but I loved them in 2023)

Harry's House - Harry Styles

Decide - Djo

Midnights - Taylor Swift

4. Top 3 movies of 2023

Barbie

The Super Mario Bors. Movie

Champions

5. Top 3 tv shows of 2023

Primo

Based On a True Story

All The Light We Cannot See

6. Top 3 books of 2023

Olga Dies Dreaming

Antes Que Se Enfríe El Café

The Last Chance Library

7. Top 3 youtubers of 2023

Don't really follow youtubers 😬

8. Top 3 podcasts of 2023

Same with podcasts 😬

9. Top 3 videogames of 2023

And videogames 😬

10. Top 3 celebrity crushes of 2023

Joe Keery

Pedro Pascal

Ben Barnes

11. Top 3 fictional crushes of 2023

Steve Harrington

Remus Lupin

Evan 'Buck' Buckley

12. Top 3 places you visited in 2023

Didn't go anywhere this year 😊

13. Top 3 new things you tried in 2023

Learned different techniques for painting

Learned sign language

Learned how to cook (kinda)

14. Top 3 things you were grateful for in 2023

Music

Painting

Writing

15. Top 3 things you are looking forward to in 2024

Traveling

Painting more

Guess I want to be surprised

tagging:  @lunamadhatter99 , @kjs-s  , @mycobrakai1972 , @chaoticgirl04 , @ittybittyhogan , @nix-rose  and anyone who’d like to jump in!

[queersatanic]

There's a problem with how Anton LaVey's Wikipedia article describes his politics, specifically that LaVey was "a member of James Madole's neo-fascist National Renaissance Party."

LaVey was a member of James Madole's neo-fascist National Renaissance Party. Due to Madole's opposition to Christianity, he sought new religious ideas and was attracted to a merging of fascism and Satanism that led an alliance between LaVey and Madole. Black Sun by Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke states, "James Wagner, a former Security Echelon (SE) commander, recalls that relations between the NRP and the Church of Satan, founded in 1966 by Anton Szandor LaVey, were cordial. Madole and LaVey frequently met at the NRP office and in the Warlock Bookshop in New York."

If we follow the citation, it's to "Black Sun: Aryan Cults, Esoteric Nazism and the Politics of Identity (Chap. 4) by Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke (2001, ISBN 0-8147-3155-4)"

But that source in Chapter 4, "Imperium and The New Atlantis" just claims Anton LaVey spent lots of time with James Madole.

In his quest for the pre-Christian, pagan sources of Aryan religion, Madole made contact with satanist groups, and there was even some overlap in membership between these and the NRP. James Wagner, a former Security Echelon (SE) commander, recalls that relations between the NRP and the Church of Satan, founded in 1966 by Anton Szandor LaVey, were cordial Madole and LaVey frequently met at the NRP office and in the Warlock Bookshop in New York. Madole is said to have erected a large satanic altar in his apartment, and Wagner has confirmed that an image of Baphomet, the sabbatic goat, hung there, and that Madole played LaVey’s recording of the Satanic Mass at several NRP meetings. One NRP bulletin shows a picture of Madole and an SE trooper with the high priest of the Temple of Baal and some female acolytes at their temple. Seth Klippoth, the NRP Michigan State organizer, formed the satanic Order of the Black Ram with some other NRP members “to celebrate the ancient religious rites of the Aryan race.” These contacts between Madole’s occult fascism and satanism anticipated the pagan alliances of neo-Nazis and satanists in the 1990s (see chapter 11).

So, this excerpt doesn't support the claim that Anton LaVey was a member of the neo-Nazi National Renaissance Party; there's no citation with further information in the book, and the subject doesn't come up in the referenced Chapter 11, "Nazi Satanism and the New Aeon", either.

HOWEVER, Jeffrey Kaplan's "The post-war paths of occult national socialism: From Rockwell and Madole to Manson" talks about the same subject, and it includes a letter from Anton LaVey to future Church of Satan apostate/Temple of Set founder Michael Aquino.

Anton LaVey: "I know Madole personally, and have been to N.R.P. headquarters. Even have a card."

Footnote 35: Letter from Anton LaVey to Michael Aquino, 24 June 1974, in The Church of Satan, 3rd edn (San Francisco: Michael Aquino 1993), 270.

This would seem to indicate rather directly that Anton LaVey was a literal card-carrying member of the neo-Nazi group "National Renaissance Party" in the 1970s, in addition to being personally genial with its founder James Madole, and fairly blasé about all that.

None of this is especially surprising.

We've talked before about how the clip of Anton LaVey using all of slurs was fully in line with his life, the people he associated with, and his fundamental philosophy.

To preempt some Church of Satan criticisms, yes, we would like to see a bit more evidence of Anton LaVey being a member of the National Renaissance Party than one stray reference in personal correspondence.

Also: the Wikipedia article should at least cite the right thing.

And as ridiculous as it may be to parse this, even if Anton LaVey was a literal Nazi party member, often agreed with Nazis, adored Nazi aesthetics, complimented fascism, and got along well with white nationalists — that doesn't mean that LaVey was himself ideologically a Nazi.

Ruben van Luijk's "Children of Lucifer" Chapter 8: "Tribulations of the Early Church" gets into this distinction.

Yet the most important reason for LaVey’s affinity with the National Socialists remains without doubt the ideological resemblance they displayed on many points.

Meanwhile, it must be emphasized that this affinity with the radical Right did not mean that LaVey also accepted the racist agenda of Nazism.

Ultimately, Anton LaVey had a lot of weird beliefs, but white nationalism wasn't one of them.

It just also wasn't a deal-breaker for him.

So the fact that fascist movements around the world and in history have been filled by people exactly like LaVey ought to be instructive.

#Anton LaVey #Church of Satan #James Madole #National Renaissance Party #facism #Neo-Nazis #Nazi Satanists fuck off #Ruben van Luijk #Nicholas Goodrick-Clarke #Michael Aquino