#also tried to use icons i hadn’t used before

[writershapeholeonthedoor]

Dog days are over

Pairing: Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader

Summary: Elizabeth isn’t a dog person… but you are. After the puppy interview, you try to convince your girlfriend to take one of them home.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language. It was inspired by the iconic puppy interview, obviously, but I changed the questions to fit the plot.

MASTERLIST

“Oh, my God,” you uttered at yourself under your breath, immediately bringing a hand to cover your mouth and stop a laugh from escaping as you watched the scene unfold in front of the cameras.

You were sitting behind the expensive equipment among the technical team while you all watched your girlfriend, Elizabeth, sitting in the middle of the room with several puppies surrounding her as she tried to answer the questions being thrown her way. It had been complete havoc since the start, something you had predicted when Elizabeth first told you she agreed with that interview - an internet success, which you had watched many other actors doing it before. However, Elizabeth kept her distance from most animals and you were waiting for the chaos that was going on right now.

What you didn’t expect was that a black puppy would jump to try to bite her hair and just fall on her chest, causing Elizabeth to squeak before she could stop herself. You had to hold your laugh the best you could so you wouldn’t disturb the recording, but you almost slipped when you saw your girlfriend trying to cover up her reaction by laughing and awkwardly scooping the puppy into her arms. You usually didn’t tag along to her interviews - especially because sitting behind the camera all day was boring as hell - but Elizabeth had asked you if you wanted to go with her and you didn’t think twice before saying yes. The reason? That scene right there. A slightly panicked Elizabeth holding an overly excited puppy who was waggling his tail and trying to lick her face.

Well, the fact that there were going to be cute puppies also convinced you to be there.

Elizabeth might not be used to being around animals like that, but you grew up surrounded by them. Since you were a small child, your family had a dog, which ended up coming home pregnant one day and the house was suddenly filled with eight other puppies. Your mother managed to give two of them to other family members before you started crying and screaming saying you didn’t want them to go, and that has been it. You grew up surrounded by dogs. When you left for college, you couldn’t adopt any dog since they took so much time, but you entered your dorm one day and found a black cat sitting on top of your computer, and that’s how you ended up with a new pet. The cat, unfortunately, was already a bit old and he ended up passing away a couple of years after you left college.

Since then, you hadn’t gotten any other pets because you lived in an apartment and had a demanding job that kept you away most of the time, but you loved going back to your parents’ house because they still had many dogs and some other animals - your father still hadn’t explained how they ended up with a tortoise, but you were fine with it.

So, yes, you were having the time of your life.

“Are you a cat person?” The question made by one of the interviewers brought your attention back to the scene in front of you.

When Elizabeth quickly replied with a short “nope” you laughed before you could stop yourself, but luckily you weren’t the only one since everyone else in the room shared the feeling. It also made Elizabeth laugh while she looked around at everyone else and struggled to get the black puppy with the blue collar out of her lap at the same time. Her eyes met yours for a brief second, something that made you smile softly even if you could see the silent ask for help behind her green eyes.

“Is it obvious I’m not a dog person?” Elizabeth wondered out loud with another laugh. “The way you said that like ‘so are you an any kind of animal person?’” She said, trying to sound like the woman asking her the questions. “Are you a bunny person?” She joked in the end, which only made everyone laugh again.

The dog in her lap finally gave up trying to lick her face and ran away to play with his little friends, and you saw how Elizabeth visibly relaxed, having a small break from the cute attackers for once. You were still smiling at her, unable to believe how cute your girlfriend was, when you felt something touching your feet. You looked down and saw that one of the puppies had run into you while playing with a toy and you didn’t think twice before leaning down to pet the cute dog. That was the puppy that seemed the most excited about Elizabeth since the beginning, jumping into her as soon as they saw her, and you received the same treatment as her. That made you smile even more widely and your eyes raised for a moment to see how your girlfriend was holding up before grabbing the toy from the floor to toss it away for the dog to chase.

You could have tossed it to the other side, you could have. Instead, you tossed it right on Elizabeth’s feet and then watched the puppy skid with the little paws to reach the toy. Elizabeth was answering a question you hadn’t heard, her attention away from the dogs, so when the puppy jumped on her again she yelped even louder than before in surprise at the sudden attack.

“Oh, God!”

You bit the inside of your cheek to hold another laugh, but you saw someone giving you a thumbs up for helping in getting that scene. You weren’t sure if your girlfriend realized it had been you who threw the toy at her, although you were praying she didn’t.

“I don’t have a dog,” you heard Elizabeth commenting with an awkward laugh when another puppy tried to get into her lap. She tried to move the first one, but he wasn’t having it, so she reached out for the toy to squeeze it. It was, obviously, the wrong choice because that only made all of the puppies rush to her to try to take it. “Okay, okay, okay…” She repeated the same word countless times while trying to dodge all of the dogs jumping on her and, finally, she threw the toy away, which made all of the puppies run away to get it. “I don’t remember what was the question.”

“You were telling us what are your hobbies,” the interviewer reminded her.

“Oh, yes.” Elizabeth nodded and opened her mouth to reply, only to be jumped by the puppy with the red collar again. She tried to move out of the way, but that only made the dog fall with his paws almost inside of her shirt. “You like the inside of my shirt, I see. You would get along with my girlfriend just fine.”

The laugh that resonated around the room was the loudest it has been since the start of the interview and, even if you were one of the people laughing, you still tried to make yourself look smaller in your chair when everyone turned to look at you. You felt yourself blush and you met Elizabeth’s gaze again just to shake your head at her little joke, but she just laughed and then had to avoid another jumping puppy from hitting her face.

“Since you talked about her,” the interviewer started, “can you tell us about how things are going? You recently moved in together, yes?”

“We did,” your girlfriend replied with a more contained smile. Elizabeth didn’t have a problem talking about you during her interviews - she knew it was going to happen when you both decided to go public about your relationship - but she tried to avoid giving out many details and always tried to change the subject as fast as she could. “People always say we only know who someone really is when you have to share a house with them,” she joked. “But things are going great. Aside from the occasional wet towel on the bed, there hasn’t been any trouble.”

The interview continued after that with the same level of chaos. The dogs kept jumping on her or running around like crazy, there was a poop incident and even a moment where you were sure Elizabeth was regretting putting herself in that situation, but she managed to answer the questions and all the dogs - and Elizabeth - were alive in the end, which you counted as a victory.

Once the questions were over, someone asked Elizabeth to stay in her spot for just a few more minutes while they collected the dogs to take them away again. You had gotten up from your chair since you felt like you needed to stretch a little bit and you were about to pull out your phone to check the time when you saw three of the puppies running towards you while fighting over a toy. Without thinking twice, you sat down on the floor and quickly reached for the toy.

“Hey, now, don’t fight!” You said. They all started to jump to try to get it from you and you felt your legs and arms being scratched with their little sharp nails, but you didn’t mind. It wasn’t their fault and, honestly, you were almost used to that. “Play nice, kiddos,” you asked before throwing the toy away.

To your surprise, not all the puppies rushed to get it. The black puppy with the red collar, that had been among them, decided he wanted to climb your lap instead and that’s what the dog did with his wobbly legs and waggling tail. You laughed happily as you decided to help him by picking him up and pressing him against your chest while you brought your other hand to scratch behind his ear.

“You’re so cute,” you cooed before pressing a kiss on top of his head. In return, the puppy raised his head to lick your chin and you let him do it. “Do you like me? I also like you, boy.” As soon as you said that, though, you paused and picked him up with both hands so you could hold him in front of your face. “Wait, are you a boy?” You turned him a bit to take a look and gasped when you put the dog back against your chest. “You’re a girl! No wonder you were trying to look at Lizzie’s chest!” You declared while trying not to squeeze the dog too much. “I don’t blame you at all for that!”

No one would be able to tell if you were joking or not since you were being so serious while saying that, but thankfully everyone was too busy trying to pick up the running dogs or putting the equipment away before the wires got chewed or something. You didn’t move from where you were sitting playing with the cute puppy and letting her lick your hands and face while all the other dogs were picked one by one to be taken away. You could already feel your chest tighten with the prospect of letting the black puppy go as well, even if it sounded crazy that you had gotten attached to her so fast.

Since you were too busy cuddling the dog, you missed when Elizabeth got up and walked towards you, getting startled when her voice sounded just by your side. “Why is he so calm with you when he was trying to murder me a second ago?”

You looked up and your lips quickly curled in a smile when you saw Elizabeth standing there with her hands on her hips while trying to pretend to be mad. “She wasn’t trying to kill you, babe,” you defended the dog. “She was trying to show you love!”

“That’s some aggressive love,” Elizabeth scoffed.

You laughed. “Yes, because she’s a puppy. She has too much energy. They get calmer when they get older.” Just as you said that, you raised the dog to your eye level again and kissed its snout. “Right, little princess? With a few walks and a lot of plays, you will grow up to be a lazy dog.”

As if she could understand you, the dog barked and tried to lick you again. You cooed and hugged her, but, before you could say anything else, a man approached you while chasing another puppy. You decided to help him out by reaching out with your arm to stop the puppy from running past you, but you still didn’t let go of the dog in your lap.

“Thank you,” the man said as he leaned down to scoop the dog.

“Of course,” you replied before you saw another person bringing a cage. “Where are these cuties from?” You wondered when curiosity got the best of you.

“From a shelter, ma’am,” the first man answered.

“Oh, so they don’t have a family?”

“No, ma’am. Their first event will be this weekend. The shelter organizes a fair to try to find their animals some owners.”

You made up your mind before the man was even done talking. You knew it was insane to even think about it, but you couldn’t help. The puppy in your arms had already won your heart, you couldn’t deny it. Besides, you have been working from home since you got a new job and you certainly had the money to take care of a pet. It could work out perfectly.

Elizabeth seemed like she had read your mind because, when you slowly turned your head to look back at her, she was already shaking her head. “Absolutely not.”

“Lizzie,” you tried to call out her nickname to soften her heart - exactly how you did it every time you were trying to get her to agree with something.

“No, Y/N.” Elizabeth kept her ground, firmly letting you know it was not going to happen. “We’re not taking a dog home with us.”

“But it’s not just a dog,” you complained while raising the puppy for her to see the cute little face. “It’s this little princess.”

“No,” she insisted. “No dogs. No little princess who tried to kill me either.”

“She didn’t try to kill you, I told you that,” you argued and then, because you could feel you were going to lose the argument, you went for your last weapon. A pout. “I promise you I will take care of her, you don’t even have to do anything! I will keep her fed and change the water, and take her for walks, and take her to the vet, all of it.”

“That’s not the problem, Y/N.” Elizabeth sighed. “I’m thinking about all of the mess. And the smell.” She added the last part while throwing a glance at the place where the puppies had pooped before, her nose scrunching adorably when she remembered the awful smell. “Look, I know you like animals, but we’re not getting a dog.”

“Lizzie,” you tried one more time, putting the dog down and pouting as well. It was now or never. “Pretty please? She won’t even get that big and we have so much space around the pool where she could run and play. We don’t need to let her go inside the house even.” Which you know was a little lie since you wouldn’t be able to keep the dog outside, but that was a problem you could solve later. “And I know you like animals, you just don’t… have much practice.”

“And I intend to keep that way.”

You sighed sadly at that and looked down at the dog who had gone oddly quiet during all of that conversation, as if she knew she shouldn’t interrupt. With a sniff, you leaned down to kiss the dog’s head before you let your cheek rest there. It was like saying goodbye to someone from your family.

“Oh, no, are you crying?” Elizabeth now sounded completely in panic, but you had your own emotions to deal with. You just shook your head, clearly lying since you could barely see anything after tears formed in your eyes, but you also didn’t want to seem stupid crying over it either. “No, my love, please don’t cry.” Elizabeth crouched in front of you and you briefly saw her wide green eyes staring at you like she had no idea what to do. “You can get a fish! What about that?”

“Okay,” you mumbled with a trembling voice without looking at her. You didn’t want a fish, although you couldn’t get enough energy to explain that to her. Besides, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow you to form a phrase anyway.

“My love, please don’t be upset,” your girlfriend tried again, sadly this time. “I don’t like when you’re upset.” All you did was shrug. “I love you so much, my love, but-”

Before she could finish her explanation, the dog in your lap wailed so miserably that it made you hug her tighter and look at Elizabeth again.

Ironically, that’s what broke her.

Elizabeth closed her eyes and pinched her nose for a few seconds before she shook her head to herself. “I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” she whispered while staring at the ceiling above you and then she finally let out a sigh and looked at you. “Okay, fine, you can have the dog.”

“Oh, my God! Really?!” You didn’t wait for her confirmation. You just threw yourself at her, almost taking both of you to the ground, and started spreading kisses all over her face. “Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you…” you kept repeating it non-stop.

“Okay, okay.” She pushed you away when it became clear you wouldn’t stop anytime soon, just to raise her index finger while she started listing some rules that you both knew would eventually be broken. “The dog must stay outside, you will take full responsibility for it, you will have to figure out what to do when we decide to travel together, and the dog is gone if she ever causes a single leaf from my garden to break.” Then, Elizabeth turned her attention to the dog, pointing at the puppy and raising her eyebrows. “And I mean it.”

“Did you hear that, pup?” You asked the dog while pointedly ignoring what Elizabeth said. “You’re going home with us!”

The dog picked up on your happiness and started to jump in your arms while trying to lick both of you, but Elizabeth quickly moved away and got up. “God, it has been a second and I’m already regretting it.” Just when you were about to get worried she might change her mind, Elizabeth added: “Wait here, I will see what we need to do to take the dog home.”

“Wait, Lizzie,” you called her before she could take another step away and she turned around at you in expectation. “Come here.” She rolled her eyes, but did as you asked. “Closer.” Again. “Closer.”

“Only if I climb in your lap, but my seat has been taken.” Elizabeth glared at the dog, but you could see she didn’t mean anything by it.

You chuckled and raised your chin. Once again, your girlfriend rolled her eyes although she leaned down to give you a kiss. “I love you,” you whispered when she pulled away.

“You better,” Elizabeth replied with a huff.

“Really, I love you so much.” You pecked her lips one more time.

She sighed and kissed your forehead. “I love you too, my love.”

Elizabeth had just started to leave again when you asked: “Can we call her Wanda?”

“Don’t make me change my mind,” was the reply you got even if she didn’t even turn around to say it.

You only laughed and hugged the puppy again. You could convince her about the name too.

#elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #celebrity x reader #marvel #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #fanfic #creative writing #my writing #drabble #fluff #puppy interview

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“California Dreamin’.”

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

MASTERLIST.

We were happy, I loved California, the sun and the movie stars, plus our home made everything seem perfect even though it always wasn’t. Our “land” was called: ‘Strawberry Fields’, Austin was a huge Beatles fan, hence the name. We made so many good memories there.

I was getting a bit more attached to our baby, I loved Lori, she was beautiful but I did wish that she looked more like me, sometimes she just looked so much like Austin that I felt as if I hadn’t taken part in her making. I lost the baby weight rather quickly, and the roles started to appear, I was casted on two of Ari Aster’s upcoming horror movies.

I could see that Austin didn’t like me still being an actress, after his breakup with Vanessa it seemed like he didn’t want a girlfriend that was that relevant on the Hollywood acting scene but I wasn’t about to give up what I worked so hard for. The filming of that movie did take a toll on me so I took a break, I was all over the place but Austin kept me together.

We were having his father and sister over for a pool party, it should be fun, right? I did my makeup and my hair was still teased so I just opted for a headband that complimented my pool outfit.

His father was dating this girl that had kids so they were running all over the place and playing on the pool while us the adults talked and laughed. I know his father or sister didn’t like me as I said before, and I don’t know why they don’t like me, I’ve been nothing but kind to them since I first met them. Some dirty looks were thrown at me from time to time, it made me sad though.

“Have you already learned to speak proper English, Cynthia?” His father asked, it was a joke but it frowned a little.

I was used to frown since I was little girl and I did it all the time until I suddenly felt a tap on my forehead.

“Stop frowning, you’ll end up wrinkling.” He said, he said it with his usual voice tone but it was more like a command.

“I forgot. Right.” I nodded and smiled at him.

His insecurities became my insecurities as time went on, he wanted to be seen as a good man, as an exemplary man, as the perfect civilian so for that he must have a perfect wife, didn’t he?

I really tried to be te perfect wife, truly. But I was adamant on not changing how I look, why should I? Unless something were to happen, I would change it but this was my image, everyone knew me like the ‘beehive girl’ or that crap. But I did try to support him a lot, to me that’s how a perfect wife was, someone who supported you no matter what.

I had heard about this new movie Baz Luhrman was doing, he was basically the man I had always wanted to work with. My agent told me he was doing some movie about Elvis, I had told Austin a thousand that he could play Elvis, it was mostly because of how huge of an Elvis fan I was but also because I always thought he could do something bigger than just cheesy and crappy movies. That same night while I was in bed unable to sleep I head him toss and turn, weeping a little bit.

“Hey, hey… is everything alright?” I asked softly, rubbing his arm. He slowly woke up, teary-eyed.

“I just— I had a dream about my mom. I wanted to hug her but I couldn’t…”

I hugged him tightly, kissing the top of his head, he couldn’t sleep.

“Why don’t I make you some tea? We chill out in the piano?”

And so we did, I made him some tea and handed it to him while he just played some notes on the piano.

“Baby, I’ve been thinkin’. Maybe I should listen to you, audition for the movie, my mom would have wanted to me to do so. But— I don’t think I can fill those shoes, I mean Elvis Presley?”

I smiled at him, I knew he could do it, I believed in him.

“I think that if you dream it then you’ll do it.” I said with a comforting smile. He smiled back at me.

It was the first time I heard him sing for real, I saw him record himself singing ‘Unchained Melody’, it was very magical and I hugged him afterwards, I knew he was very emotional.

Fortunately he got casted as Elvis, it was going to be a life-changing experience. Yeah, maybe I wasn’t what Baz was looking for right now but at least the man I loved was going to be able to have a better career now. That’s why I put my career on hold— again, I needed to be there for him while we were in Australia.

“This will be worth it, I promise.” Austin told me as we arrived at the new apartment in Australia.

“I know it will be.” I never knew how false that statement would be, I shouldn’t have even thought about it. I was being foolish and believed that my marriage was in fact a fairy tale.

I’ve never hated a weather so much, Australia’s weather was very different from California, it was humid and mega hot, hotter than California, filled with insects all over the place. I swear to God I’ve killed my more insects in just one night in Australia than in all my life. But you know, I hd to get used to it plus my mind was all over the place with Lori and Austin, the only time I had for myself was at night, all I did was just practice with some old and scrapped scripts, watch some true crime documentaries and just lay in bed, it wasn’t the best of time specially when it all got shut down by COVID-19, that’s when the ugliness started.

Sorry I haven’t posted, I’ve been so busy lately, schoolwork has me stressed fr!

#Spotify #austin butler #austin butler fanfiction #austin butler fic #austin butler imagine #austin butler x reader #austinbutler #elvis and me #priscilla presley

[cocogum]

Will “The Great Wave” Wakfu manga have more than 10 chapters?

There’s something that’s been bothering me ever since the official webtoon for “The Great Wave” appeared on Allskreen and in the Krosmoz app.

We all know Tot confirmed to us that the webtoon will turn into a manga to be released on June 7, 2024. We know the manga will have a prologue chapter that will appear before chapter 1. We also know that the manga will have 208 pages with 10 chapters.

But the thing that bugs me here is that that’s all he said about the number of chapters we were going to have. Tot never once mentioned another set of chapters that will come out later on and he never said anything about a second volume.

Since he never said any of those things, how come we see that the Krosmoz app labelled these ten chapters as “Volume 1”?

Here it is in plain sight! I even circled it in red for you just so you can see how Ankama did not attempt to make it smaller.

“Tome 1” translates to “Volume 1” in English.

Again, Tot never clarified about any volume 2 in the works but would it be far-fetched to think that they are planning on giving us more than ten chapters?

Because think about it.

I did the math and 208 pages will only have about 20ish pages for 10 chapters. With everything we have going on, the amount of pages for each chapter is nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Do you expect me to believe that a single volume of 208 pages containing 20ish pages for EACH chapter will be enough to explain the other rulers’ reactions to Yugo and Amalia’s alliance, the royal Osamodas family butting heads with Amalia, the events that will line up to the great wave WHILE dealing with Yugo and Amalia’s new relationship status after A FEW MONTHS since their political marriage??

Maybe I’m very late on this and everyone else has already realized that we were going to have a second volume, but I’m still processing it all.

It’s weird to know that we might have a second volume. Don’t get me wrong, I’d be very ecstatic if we’ll end up having that. I just feel weird because Tot never mentioned a second volume. His team hadn’t said anything about it. Everyone was talking about the ten chapters. Not even Cynthia Leman, better known as cathianedraws on insta, the official artist for the webtoon/manga, said anything about a second volume.

And yet here we have an indication that tells us we’ll have one.

The funny thing about this is that Allskreen on the other hand doesn’t show any indication that the ten chapters are part of the first volume. It doesn’t imply that there’s a second volume in the works either.

So now I’m confused.

The Krosmoz app isn’t helping either because I made sure to see if this wasn’t a recurring thing that happens. What I mean by that is that I tried to make sure no other webtoons/mangas in the app have an icon that only says Volume 1 to specify a couple of chapters.

And surely enough, if you look at other works that have been completed, you’ll only find completed works done in one volume (like the Lance Dur, Dofus Monster comics, etc.) with no icon forced to specify that these were part of “Volume 1”.

For other works that DO have multiple volumes, they actually do have that same icon.

So since completed works with very few chapters don’t deserve to have the “Volume 1” icon, I only have one question :

Does that mean we’re going to have more than ten chapters?

The only reason why I’m still not convinced is because no one mentioned anything about a second volume coming out in the future!

#PLEASE make this real!!! #I BETTER BE RIGHT #wakfu #ankama #krosmoz #wakfu season 4 #wakfu s4 #wakfu manga #wakfu webtoon #wakfu season 5 #wakfu s5

[bisexualfemalemess]

*HSMTMTS SEASON 4 SPOILERS*

Question; Is it already appropriate to stop putting a spoiler warning on my posts? lmao

Anyway, Let’s talk about 4x05 specifically, Ricky’s line “Last summer, I was terrified, when I realized i had real feelings for gina.”

Because maybe this will put the pw/rini fans down and help them accept that rina is and was supposed to be endgame no matter what happened with liv and josh. Also, I’ve literally never seen anyone talk about this and maybe i’m just exaggerating lmao.

I think Ricky could have just as easily said something along the lines of “when i realized i had feelings/ when i realized i developed real feelings for gina” but he didn’t. Because he knew he liked Gina from the moment she kissed his cheek in that orange bug after homecoming, we’ve seen them flirt and we’ve seen him shoot a shot several episodes after that and I don’t know about you but i don’t give a spin hug to my friends. He stopped pursuing Nini as soon as gina came into the picture and that’s a fact, they didn’t bring the rickyxnini couple storyline back until after Gina moved, he didn’t actively pursue nini until Gina told him to stop calling and even then he kept texting her and we see him distracted throughout the next episode, the almost kiss didn’t happen until after Gina had replied and told him they were leaving early, only once he knew gina was completely out of the picture, did he go back to nini. He said it himself, he reverted back to his old self because he didn’t have gina in his life anymore and when gina told him she wouldn’t quit on them if she wasn’t moving away he genuinely looked upset about it as well. In episode 1 of season 2 at Ashlyn’s new years even party, that boy did a Triple Take when gina went to get a root-beer, the feelings were still there, they were just buried because he didn’t think he would see Gina again when he made his confession to Nini so he held on to what he used to know and who he used to be, because we all know that ricky bowen is not good with change. Now, in episode three of the season, the iconic valentines episode, The way he looks at her, the way his voice softens while talking to her, his line “I think you’ll get yours too.” After gina told him that every girl likes a sweet gesture, THE NEXT SCENE BEING THE CHOCOLATES, the fact that ricky got messages from nini and gina only seconds apart but he only looked onto his face once gina’s message came on, all of these things hint towards ricky’s feelings, even in 2x04 when Nini came to surprise the group in the bomb shelter, Ricky and Gina looked like they just got caught cheating even though all they did was talk and laugh. Last point, Episode five and six, He was in awe of gina when she was dancing (gina porter effect) and only went to gina for advice on nini because she had helped him the previous two times when he hadn’t even actually asked for advice in 2x04 and 2x03, The boy probably thought she was trying to get over him. In the next episode even though she had already tried to break off contact with him, he still asked to partner up with her and smiled at her when she looked at him while saying she doesn’t know what her heart desires. Even during Ashlyn’s retention of home we see ricky look at gina when he comes back in. RICHARD BOWEN HAS ALWAYS HAD FEELINGS FOR GINA PORTER, THE SEASON 3 PLOT LINE WAS NOT RANDOM OR CAME OUT OF NOWHERE. Ricky just finally realized what he could’ve had if gina didn’t move away once he lost it. RINA WAS ALWAYS SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN AND BE ENDGAME. THEY DIDNT COME OUT OF NOWHERE OR ONLY HAPPENED BECAUSE OLIVIA LEFT. Because, fact-check Season 2 was filmed before the drivers-license drama, they did not break them up because things between liv and josh got tense. Your ship was not supposed to be endgame.

(In tomorrows post i will rant about the people who say that rina copied rini and portwells scenes And that gina is the new nini because literally where?)

#gina porter #hsmtmts #rina #ricky bowen #ricky x gina #anti portwell #anti rini

[blurblurdeactivated]

▬❝ keep your hands to yourself. ❞

summary: soldier boy is back. and he's in your house. and he's a fucking sleazebag, ⟶ [soldier boy x fem!reader]

warnings: swearing, sexism, derogatory language, sexual harassment, sexual innuendos, threats of violence, Soldier Boy being a toxic, problematic piece of shit <3,

ONESHOT. 2889 WORDS

masterlist, blog navigation, taglist <3

Soldier Boy was a total sleaze. 

He sat before you, leaning back in the chair you’d brought into the bathroom from the kitchen. You stood in between his widely spread legs, holding scissors and a comb in one hand and your electric razor in the other. He’d refused the salon-style cape you’d offered to keep the cuttings off his suit and so you’d simply draped a towel around his neck. He sat still while you trimmed his hair and beard and only made minimal comments. Surprisingly, he made a mostly decent client. 

The issue was that the creep had the audacity to have a hand on your waist. Not just resting there to steady himself, or you, not even as a threat or a reminder of his strength if you tried anything. He’d slid his hand up, under your shirt just enough to make skin contact with you. The invasive prick was drawing lazy circles with his fingertips into your side as you neatened up the edges of his beard. 

His eyes were also a problem. Save for when you’d tipped his head to each side and when you were doing the back of his head, he stared at you. Knowing better than to move his face too much, his eyes were the only thing giving what he was thinking away. The slight crease at the corner of one and the intensity with which he watched you made you feel like he was smirking inside. An arrogant triumph oozed out of him and the ease with which he let you work made you hesitant. 

You had to force yourself to focus on his beard and not be drawn back to his gaze. Just a little longer, a little more shaping and he’d be back to the iconic Soldier Boy look and you could slink out of his grip. 

“If only you’d been around in the 70s,” he said as you pulled back for a moment, eyeing your handiwork, “you’re a right-shot better than the fat fuck who did my hair then. Much softer hands too, you’d have thought she was a factory worker. Still, not bad in the sack. I mean that mouth of hers, goddamn.” You swallowed hard. You’re nearly done, you told yourself, you’re nearly done. He stopped talking when you got back to work, choosing to instead shut his legs slightly, trapping you between them.  

Switching from the razor to your comb, you delicately combed out his beard. It seemed to match the reference photo you’d printed out of him in the 80s pretty well; you only hoped he thought the same. Snipping off a few longer strands of hair that you’d previously missed, you looked down at everything you’d cut off and felt a little swell of pride. Thanks to you he no longer looked like some wolf-man hybrid and if he hadn’t already threatened to choke you til your eyes popped out you might’ve enjoyed the experience.

Feeling more than a little claustrophobic between his legs and with his hand on your waist, you reached over to drop your tools in the empty sink. “All done,” you declared. To your relief he made no attempt to stop you from moving away from him. 

Moving around him you carefully unwrapped the towel, trying not to let too much hair fall onto the floor. He got up as soon as he was rid of it and moved to stare at himself in the dingy mirror that hung above the sink. Shaking out the towel over the bathtub, you took a few deep breaths. 

“Ah. A woman’s touch,” he sighed as if that in itself was a compliment, nodding as he checked himself out. You fought the urge to tell him to go fuck himself. He was a Supe you reminded yourself, a Homelander level Supe and you were not looking to become a crimson stain on the floor anytime soon. 

“I used to cut my brother’s hair,” was all you said.

“You did a mighty fine job of it.”

There was a long moment of silence before you looked at the mirror and saw his reflection looking at you expectantly.

“Thank you…” you said, not quite sure what he was asking. The practised smile he shot you told you that’s what he’d wanted to hear.

“You’re welcome,” he said, turning around to face you again, “Now, if I take a shower are you gonna fucking scurry away as fast as you can? Or are you gonna be a good girl and stay put?” 

“I’m… I’m gonna stay put,” you said, choking on a hard lump of terror. He was horrifyingly nonchalant about keeping you hostage in your own home. It was safe to say the both of you knew what he was capable of.

“Atta girl,” he said with a wink, “I knew you were a smart one.” 

“I’ll bring something for you to change into once you’re done.” 

“Alright,” he said, amused by your urgency, “If you insist on getting me out of this uniform.” 

Taking the chair with you, you backed out of the room, shutting the door behind you. Returning to the kitchen and slotting the chair back into its place you took a couple of shaky breaths. Looking up, the sight of your front door filled you with the screaming urge to run. 

No. No. No. You didn’t even consider the possibility of him not finding you if you ran. It wouldn’t take him long, in fact, you wondered if you’d even make it out the door before he was yanking you back inside to meet a bloody death. For all of his sickening charisma and condescending compliments he was still a fucking psycho. You could still feel the pressure of the fingers he’d grabbed your jaw with as he forced his way into your home.

Your knuckles were white on the back of the chair when you looked down and you quickly let go of it, suddenly reminded that you’d said you’d fetch the Supe something clean to wear. Shuffling into your room you remembered a pair of navy sweatpants your last boyfriend had left behind, those and an oversized #BraveMaeve shirt you’d been given looked like they’d fit him.

Knocking on the bathroom door when you returned to it, you waited for his gruff “come in.” Pushing open the door you were greeted by the sigh of a shirtless Soldier Boy. He watched you carefully as you looked from his bare chest to his face, blinking faster than before as heat bloomed in your cheeks. “Here,” you said quickly, placing the shirt and pants on the floor out of the way of the door. His eyes didn’t leave you as you pulled it shut again.

You made your way back into the living room and took a seat on the end of the sofa. Pressing your hands between your thighs you just sat there, staring at the ground as the sound of your shower starting came through the wall. He just needed somewhere to hide for a day or-so, just needed to rest up and then he’d be on his way; that’s what he’d said. If you trusted nothing else about him, you trusted that he’d keep his word. You could wait it out, you had patience. A day of chauvinist bullshit and wandering hands in exchange for, well, your life. 

Glancing over at the shield that had been set on the other end of the couch, you cringed at the faint flecks of dark reddish brown that you knew for a fact weren’t rust. Just so long as you didn’t become any of the flecks on it, everything was gonna be just fine.

After the shower turned off, it was only another few minutes before a slightly damp, fully-dressed Soldier Boy emerged into your living area. “What in God’s name do you need all of those products for? Your fucking shampoo has me smelling like a fucking fairy,” he grumbled, rubbing his hair with your towel. He was back in his hero costume which made you frown a little. The small part of you that was pissed off you’d gotten those clothes for nothing was promptly silenced by the other part of you not wanting to be squashed like a bug.

Noticing your apprehensive stare, he raised an eyebrow, “What’s with the look like someone just ran over your fucking pussycat?”

“Nothing,” you said simply. Standing from the sofa you moved into the kitchen, looking for the map he’d demanded earlier. If you could get him what he wanted, maybe he’d be gone sooner.

“You got anything to eat?” he asked, taking a seat at your dining table. Looking up from the pile of papers you’d dug out of the stationary drawer, you turned to your fridge.

“Half a left-over boysenberry pie,” you said, peering inside, “Some carrots, a couple of apples-”

“I’ll take the pie.” If he’d ever had a wife back when he’d been ‘alive’ you felt great sympathy for her. 

Peeling the glad wrap off, you slid the plate into the microwave and set it for a minute thirty. Even as you stayed facing the pie go round and round you could feel Soldier Boy’s eyes on your back. You had been pretty sure he didn’t have laser eyes but given how hot you were getting you were starting to doubt your knowledge. The microwave beeped and as you turned around, warm pie in hand you were thankfully met with human green irises. 

Grabbing a knife and fork from the drawer first, you set the half pie down in front of him. Without even a ‘thanks’ he began to absolutely demolish his food. He groaned around the first mouthful and while you were glad your baking had gardened such a reaction you were less than pleased that you weren’t the one eating it. Small price to pay for your life though, you supposed.

He was about half-way finished when he swallowed, looking up at you with the same expectant gaze as before. “Water?” he said as if you were his fucking maid. How he’d managed to keep his spot as America’s Greatest Hero with such abhorrent manners you couldn’t comprehend. You fetched it without complaint. 

Once he’d drained the glass you brought him, he started to slow down. Eating more carefully, less like a man starved. 

“So what’s a pretty young lass such as yourself doing living in a big house like this all alone?” he asked, still chewing. 

“Should there be someone else living here?” 

He swallowed. “No man?”

“No,” you said, “Do I need one?”

“At some stage you will,” he said like it was a fact of the universe, “Every woman does. That’s just how the world works, sweetheart.” That made you feel sick. 

“Why’s that?” 

You knew you should’ve just left it. You knew there was nothing you could do to change the misogynistic understanding of the world cemented in his brain. 

His eyes flicked up to you, almost challenging you. “Because without one who knows what might happen to you,” he said threateningly, his mocking smirk returning, “I mean, without a man to protect you imagine the trouble you’d get into.” Stabbing the fork back into the last bite of pie, he didn’t look away from you even for a second.

Before you could move to get his plate for him - something you figured he’d expect - he got up and moved towards you into the kitchen. A shiver ran down your spine as he neared and your breath hitched in your throat as he brushed past you. Setting the plate and utensils down on the bench he came up right behind you, trapping you against the counter. Frozen in place, it wasn’t like you were going to scarper away anyhow.

“Not to mention you could do with someone knocking you down a peg,” he added, a hiss in your ear, “which I bet you’d fucking enjoy too.” He was all hard muscle pressed against your back. 

You let out a godamn pitiful fucking whimper. 

He seemed to relish in it. A hand on the counter on each side of you, you felt beyond small in his shadow. “Just like I thought.” His breath was hot on your ear. “If I wasn’t in the middle of a mission I’d bend you over this counter right now and fucking ruin you.”

Every muscle in your body was painfully tense and everything was screaming at you to fight and run and cry and be violently sick all over him. But you stayed frozen. Maybe if you stopped reacting altogether he’d forget you were even there. If he heard your prayers he clearly didn’t care, when he reached up, grabbing you by the throat and twisting you around to face him. You’d been this close when you were trimming his beard but those eyes of his were so much more menacing when they were looking down on you.

“Yknow,” he started, grip tightening on your airway, “If I hadn’t been fucking sold out to the Russians, I’d have liked to settle down with a nice girl like you. White picket fence, two kids, the whole sh-bang. My own perfect nuclear family. Grow old, a happy man.”

“You didn’t deserve what they did to you,” you choked out, starting to cry softly, “what they put you through.”

“No, I didn’t,” he agreed. He watched, transfixed, as your tears slowly rolled down your cheeks. His grip on your throat moved up, his fingers finding their way into your hair. Still the same firmness of his hold but with it no longer on your windpipe you relaxed slightly. A rough thumb wiped away some of your tears as he cooed a soft ‘shh’ to you. 

“Stop crying, sweetheart,” he said, “makes you look fucking ugly.” 

Swallowing your sobs, you tried to focus on evening out your breathing. His other arm wrapped around your waist. Hands flying to his chest, you did your best to keep some semblance of distance between you. His smirk grew. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, “please, don’t hurt me.”

“You think I’d really hurt a gal so pretty?” he asked, the skin around his eyes crinkling as he smiled. It was like he found your fear endearing. “Especially since you’re being so well-behaved.” 

He dropped the hand from your face and for a simple, stupid, moment you thought he was going to walk away. Instead, he grabbed the underside of your thigh and effortlessly hoisted you up onto the counter top. You let out a soft ‘oof’ at the unexpected manhandling, your fingers digging into his collar tightly on instinct. 

“What are you-?”

“Wrap your arms around my neck,” he said. About to protest, you were shut up by his fingers digging into the meat of your thigh. “Go on.”

Doing as told, you let go of his collar and looped your arms around his neck. The disturbing intimacy of this proximity made your heart race. The last time you’d been this close to anyone was making out with your highschool boyfriend at his birthday party senior year. 

And now you were making out with the Hero of Heroes. 

He hadn’t given you time to process that he was leaning in before his lips were on yours. It was hard and forceful and hot. He kissed you with forty years worth of want; romance be forsaken. All devouring and angry, it was brutal the way he nipped and sucked and kissed your lips.  His hand came up to your hair again and he yanked, just enough to make you tip your head back with a whine. That gave him the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You were french-kissing a fucking Supe. Invading every sense, he pulled you against him, attempting to consume your entire being.

The heat of him erased any fear from you. Feeling the power through his skin you coiled your arms around him tighter, ankles looping around his waist, chests flush against one another. If you’d been afraid of him snapping you in half with ease before, the thought of it now made you ridiculously light-headed. Fingers lacing into his slightly damp hair you wanted him to fucking swallow you. You gladly settled for him kissing you with godly arrogance.

When he finally slowed and pulled away, you followed him for a second, eyes shut. “Look at that,” he said, voice gravelly, “a quick pash and you’re fucking sedated.”

Blinking your eyes open, your brain began to reboot. Legs falling off from around him, you loosed the hold you had around his neck. 

“I- uh…” you started, still dazed, “what was- why did you..?”

“Attitude adjustment,” he said with a cruel chuckle. Leaning back in for a moment, he nipped your bottom lip before letting go of you and leaving you there. Slowly sliding off the counter you turned to watch him move to sit on your sofa. He kicked his feet up onto the coffee table, arms folded behind his head. Turning his head to stare at you, he looked pointedly bored for someone who’d just kissed the air out of your lungs a minute ago.

“You gonna stand there and look stupid, sweetheart? Or are you gonna get me that map?” 

Soldier Boy was a fucking sleaze.

⭑ ⟵ ★ ⟶ ⭑

follow @viridiesa for more <3

a/n: soldier boy fucking owns my brain, good lawd i am without other thoughts. also i think this says a lot about me in a not good 'girl you best get sum help' way but i am not yet willing to confront that yet (:

if you liked this please comment, reblog, or follow for more! my inbox is always open for suggestions, your thoughts, or if you just wanna talk :)) can't wait for you to read more in future &lt;3

#i saw an insta edit w the caption #new dilf dropped #and i can't stop thinking about it #soldier boy #soldier boy the boys #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys fandom #jensen ackles

[meenawrites]

Trudy Lives AU: Spider's Hair

We all know hair is super important to the Na'vi in general, but I think it's doubly important to Spider because his hair represents his connection and wanting to belong to the Omaticaya. 

Obviously with Trudy being Spider's mom, he doesn't have as strong abandonment and self-esteem issues as he does in canon. I think he would still have some because obviously kids feel a lot and notice a lot even if adults don't specifically say anything. Plus he just loves Na'vi culture so he would still want to belong. 

Trudy notices this desire from him early on as a kid when he freaks out whenever someone tries to give him a haircut and how he holes up and cries afterwards on the rare times someone succeeded. She hadn't understood the first few times until he saw him stare at Lo'ak's braids and queue when the kids came to the lab to visit him and Grace and touched the short ends of his own hair with something like shame. 

From then on, she stopped letting anyone give the kid a haircut. If he wanted his hair long like the Na'vi, he could have it long, what right did they have to stop him. He's already having a tough time as it is being a human born on this planet, a person torn between both races and cultures, an orphan of such a bloody conflict. So she just lets him be; what's most important to her is his happiness after all. 

I'd imaging in the short time he's with the McCoskers in this AU, they tried to humanize him a bit, which is another part of Trudy chewing them out and taking him in herself because they can clearly see how miserable it makes the kid and still insist on it as if short or long hair is such a big deal or end-all, be-all.

Obviously his curly hair starts getting tangled and unruly and tangled though and Trudy doesn't have much experience dealing with his hair type. So she scrounges up some old youtube videos maybe or talks to one of the remaining scientists who DOES have curly hair for tips and tricks. If there is a scientist left with curly hair (which I'm just gonna say yes there is), I'd imagine she has figured out what natural plants she can use to take care of her hair in the years she's been there, so she helps Trudy out with that. So Trudy takes care of his curls for him, but also finds herself trying out different hairstyles on him.

Like I mentioned in a previous AU post, Trudy learns to braid for him so he can feel included in Omaticaya culture (and it also frankly helps her deal with his curly hair). But none of this matted loc nonsense for Spider this time around, not while she's alive and in charge of his cleanliness and hair. When his hair isn't in a protective hairstyle, she tries out a lot of different styles on him, and it ends up being something she really enjoys doing. It's good mother-son bonding time for the two of them as well because he'll like sit between her knees on the floor and talk to her about his day or something in a very relaxed setting while she works on his hair and he loves her motherly touch on his scalp (because again he still has touch starvation issues). She does a lot of hairstyles on him that like Earth people might consider girly but he loves them and thinks he's an icon. She does stuff like french braids, dutch braids, waterfall braids, fishtail braids when she dries his hair straight. She's definitely given him a braid crown before, and Tuk went gaga over it and begged Trudy to do one to her too. 

She basically switches between protective hairstyles, full on big braids to keep his hair out of his face, and letting his hair go curly. Because his hair is so well taken care of now, I'd imagine that Omaticaya kids an adults see his golden braids and curls and like kind of break the ice there is between him and them and approach him to touch his hair or ask about his braids. 

Also, Spider 100% learns to braid and insists on braiding Trudy's hair every once in a while because he insists she has nice hair and it's a waste for it to just be put up in a ponytail all the time. So he gets really good with hair, and starts braiding some of the Omaticaya's hair when they ask like on special occasions if they want waterfall braids or a braid crown; it gives him a role in the village that he didn't really have before and he loves it. Not all the animosity held towards him goes away with this obviously, but no one can deny that the boy is talented. I'd like to say even Mo'at gives his skills a go one time when she notices him staring at her hair repeatedly for a week preceding some sort of big Na'vi celebration and relents to him. 

Anyway, yeah hehe, I just want to talk about little things like this that improve in Spider's life under Trudy's care. 

#Trudy lives AU #Trudy is Spider's mom #Trudy stan #Trudy is my wife #Trudy for best mom #Spider Socorro #he deserves parents #Spider deserves love #Spider Avatar #Avatar 2 #Avatar the way of water #Kiri #Tuk #Tuktirey #Mo'at #Lo'ak #Neytiri #Omaticaya

[syl-stormblessed]

So I have been having some. ahem. thoughts and feelings about Anastasia and Samael since Nona came out, and I’ve been thinking a lot about why John killed Samael. I think that after obsessing over this I may??have connected some major dots. please correct me if i’m wrong on anything, but I am currently convinced I’ve figured something out. also please forgive me if it’s incomprehensible. but this is the locked tomb nothing can make too much sense

Nona spoilers ahead

short TLDR, in case you don’t want to read the whole thing: Anastasia & Samael would have merged their souls together and become a being like Paul. John killed Samael because he thought of the synthesis like Nona did at first, believing that they would both die, rather than create a new life made up of 2 souls, and he would rather lose one of them than both.

After finishing Nona the Ninth, I’ve been thinking a lot about Anastasia. Specifically, the fact that Anastasia never achieved Lyctorhood. From Harrow the Ninth, we know that Anastasia did extensive research on Lyctorhood, and the only person allowed to watch her attempt was John. And John kills Samael, resulting in Anastasia never becoming a Lyctor. However, Nona the Ninth revealed that John and Alecto’s Perfect Lyctorhood only worked because Alecto was Earth’s Resurrection Beast, and John couldn’t completely exchange their souls. Alecto held too much power, so even after John had consumed a massive amount of her soul, there was enough left of Alecto that she could still live. This implies that Perfect Lyctorhood, at least as we perceived it before Nona, isn’t possible with two normal people who have two normal souls. Alecto was simply made up of billions of souls. This means that what Anastasia and Samael almost did couldn’t have been Perfect Lyctorhood. Meaning that John didn’t kill Samael to cover up the fact that he lied about Perfect Lyctorhood. Because he didn’t lie about that, specifically. So the question remains: Why, exactly, did John kill Samael?

In Harrow the Ninth, John says, “She panicked midway through. She hadn’t got his soul inside her all the way—if she had, Samael dying would have killed her too…They were both in danger.” This is immediately questioned by Augustine, and for good reason: It’s total bullshit. We already know that panic and other intense emotions don't cause a failure of the Lyctoral process. At the end of Gideon the Ninth, Harrow flat out rejects the Lyctoral process after Gideon falls on the fence. During that scene, Harrow gave us the iconic “I cannot conceive of a universe without you in it,” because she was already so consumed by her grief. She actively tried not to become a Lyctor, yet she still did. She even begged John for Gideon’s life back. And we know that Harrow did do the process correctly. When she tells John she misapprehended the process, John says “I don’t believe you did, Harrowhark.” We know that it was actually her homebrew lobotomy that messed with her consuming Gideon’s soul, not her own feelings of distress and panic. We also have Augustine’s story. While talking about Anastasia in Act V, he says “It didn’t make sense that I became a Lyctor under scrambling pressure and did it right, and that Anastasia screwed up in laboratory conditions.” Just from knowing about Harrow & Gideon and Augustine & Alfred, we know that John was full of shit when he said that Anastasia’s panic was why he had to kill Samael. Intense emotions and “scrambling pressure” aren’t enough to fail the Lyctoral process. So we know that John didn’t kill him because of Anastasia’s panic, like he said.

So why did he kill Samael, then? That’s where Paul comes in. During that same conversation in Act V of Harrow, John says “[Anastasia] learned the trick was to do the Eightfold slower—more methodically...” And now that Nona has been released, we have an example of the Eightfold being executed slower and more methodically—the creation of Paul. Let’s go back to Gideon for a second. When Gideon fell on the fence, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision brought on by necessity. They both would have died if she hadn’t sacrificed herself and forced Harrow to consume her soul. It was not a premeditated decision, they had never considered actually going through the process. There was no viable option other than the Eightfold. It happened in a split second, and Harrow consumed Gideon quickly, resulting in regular Lyctorhood. Now back to Nona. When Camilla and Palamedes merge their souls together, they are both entirely confident in their decision. Palamedes offers Camilla a chance to say no, and instead she says “My whole life, yes. Yes, forever, yes.” Their decision is in a much more controlled environment, and both of them are entirely sure of what they are doing. And then they actually begin the process, which is much slower and more methodical. Every action seems to have a purpose, whereas Harrow & Gideon scrambled and panicked. Nona observes that “Nothing particularly interesting happened, until Camilla burst into flames.” For Nona to have noted that nothing of interest happened, it’s safe to assume that at least five to ten seconds passed before Camilla combusted, meaning it was a much slower process than that of Harrow & Gideon. Even without Nona’s observation, the process was much slower and well thought out. And the result of the slower process? A fusion, or synthesis, between Camilla & Palamedes—what I’m going to call “True Lyctorhood.” And if Anastasia realized the secret to Lyctorhood was to do the Eightfold slowly, she would have had the same results with Samael as Camilla & Palamedes. Their souls should have combined, and they should have achieved True Lyctorhood. This is where John’s words start to have a little tiny sliver of truth. When he says that Anastasia & Samael would have both died, he wasn’t entirely lying, but it wasn’t the whole truth, either. Nona struggles with seeing Paul as both Cam & Pal because she thinks of them as dead. She’ll never see either of them again, but she has a harder time realizing that they both still live on in Paul. I think that John was able to see that Anastasia & Samael would have merged their souls had they continued, and he could only view it as the death of them both, rather than a new life made up of two souls. So he chose the option that looked most favorable to him, and he killed only one of them, rather than lose them both.

Now, you may be asking, how do we know that Camilla & Palamedes did the same thing as Anastasia & Samael? That’s where Cassiopeia comes in (and some speculation). Again, in Act V of Harrow, Augustine says “I knew [Anastasia] was working closely with Cassiopeia.” Cassiopeia was helping Anastasia research Lyctorhood, so she would have had access to all Anastasia’s notes and research. And the Sixth House are scholars, Cassy would never get rid of information as big as an alternate form of Lyctorhood. Cassiopeia would have stored her information somewhere, and if she didn’t make it accessible to the house as a whole, she could have put it in the instructions she left. Either way, her and Anastasia’s research would not have been lost, and it would have had a clear tie with the Sixth House. And as Warden and Cavalier Primary of the Sixth, Camilla & Palamedes would have had some sort of access to this research, and would have known that such a thing was possible.

So where does that leave Anastasia & Samael? It means that they, had John not intervened, would have achieved True Lyctorhood and completely merged their souls. We know that John was full of shit, Anastasia’s panic couldn’t have been his reason. We have already seen successful executions of the Eightfold while both people are under extreme stress—or even actively trying not to become a Lyctor. We know the process executed by Camilla & Palamedes was similar to, if not exactly the same as, the process that Anastasia attempted. And we know that they would have had some kind of access to the research done by her and Cassiopeia. So. John saw that Anastasia and Samael would have merged and achieved True Lyctorhood, and he killed Samael because he would rather lose one of them than both of them, even though, had they continued, neither of them would have actually died.

Anyways. I have so many thoughts about Anastasia and Samael. why is this relevant to the locked tomb going forward? if I’m being totally honest, I have no idea. it’s important to me though. if you even care.

#yes this is the essay i promised like the week after nona came out #don’t even get me started on the implied codependency between anastasia and samael #i could write another goddamn essay all about codependency but make it specifically only about anastasia and samael #i have. a problem i think. #vin speaks #the locked tomb #tlt #nona the ninth #ntn #harrow the ninth #htn #gideon the ninth #gtn #tamsyn muir

[marky-iplier]

Bactor, wholesome Bactor? Pretty please with a cherry on top 🥺👉👈

Of course! Here u go :3 I'm not sure if this counts as wholesome but I tried sobs

Unexpected Confession (Actor!Mark x Butler Ben)

Valentine's Day. A day filled with love. However, not for Mark, perhaps. His, well now, ex-wife, had divorced him so he wasn't sure what to do on the day. He didn't have any ongoing project, he couldn't just stay in his manor for Valentine's Day. That would be sad. But, in reality, he did have someone to spend with and he finally knew what to do.

Ben's POV

I just finished dressing up in my room, just another day being a butler. It was around 8 in the morning and Master was not awake yet. He told me he wanted to go out and get some things for tonight. He wanted me to wake him up if he hadn't woken up after 9 AM.

After weeks of him, being alone, it felt miserable to see him being broken and sad. I also had this feeling that I tried to push away to maintain professionalism over being personal. It was hard, really hard but I couldn't help it. It was a job I needed to face. The news of the divorce saddened me but somehow I felt relieved. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling.

I went up to his room and opened the curtain, he just rolled over under his blanket, facing away from the window. I grabbed his iconic dark red silky robe and hung it on the bed frame,

“Can you turn off the lamp, please?” he groaned, plumping his face on the pillow. 

“Sir, it’s already past 8. I am afraid you need to wake up due to your schedule today,” I said. I grabbed some of his clothes on the floor and put them away in the laundry basket, then stood beside him to give him his robe when he finally stood up,

“Fuck, is it today? What date is it?” He wiped his eyes with the heel of his hand, “14th February. It is Valentine’s Day.”

“Oh, yeah. Is the driver here already?” he asked while standing up on the side of the table, I gave him his robe as he covered his half-naked body was only covered with negligees. I looked at my watch, “He will be here in 15 minutes, sir.”

“That’s enough time to get ready. Oh yeah, you’re coming with me for today,” he blurted. I was surprised, usually when he went out, I would stay in the manor to make sure everything was okay.

“Pardon?” I needed to make sure what I heard was correct. Him? Asking me to go with him?

“Yes, you’re coming with me to go out today. Now, will you excuse me, I need to get ready.” He went past me, heading to his bathroom.

I just stood there, trying to process what was going on. I did not expect that. This was going to be nice. I went downstairs to make sure the chef was already cooking breakfast for all of us.

“Is the breakfast ready?” I asked, walking inside the kitchen. The chef put down a plate of bacon, egg, and toast on the counter. Then, another plate of pancakes. I just grabbed two pieces of toast for myself from the stack of cooked toast, since I hadn’t had my breakfast.

"Oh yeah, have fun on your go out," the chef teased, smiling to himself while cooking breakfast for himself. I just turned around and looked at him confusingly, "How did you know?"

"I know everything in this house. Don't ask." Huh. Although I tried not to think about it too much, he was right. The chef knew about everything and everyone in this house because of his little buddy. I put down the plate of breakfast on the dining table, along with the utensils. I went to the bar to make his favorite morning cocktail, Mimosa.

It took me a couple of minutes to make the drink, and without delay, after finishing it, I went to the dining table to put down his drink. Everything was settled. I suddenly felt a hand on my shoulder which caused me to jump a bit, "Well, isn't this a wonderful morning, don't you think, Ben?" 

I exhaled, "Yes, indeed. I should check on the driver to get us ready, sir." Before I walked out of the room, he called my name, "Ben. Hold on. Why don't you sit down here with me? You can have these pancakes. Enjoy the morning with me,"

"Oh, I don't think that is necessary. I already had my own feast for this morning." He was still insisting, pushing the plate of pancakes to the empty side of the table in front of him,

"Please, I insist. I don't want to get too full." He took a bite of his toast. I couldn't resist his plead. I smiled and sat down in front of him, grabbing the utensils in the middle of the table. 

"Thank you," I said before eating the pancakes. He opened his mouth which was slightly full from the meal, "Yeah, yeah, no problem."

The breakfast was silent. This wasn't the first time he did this, it was pretty common so it wasn't something special. He just wanted to have someone to eat with after his divorce. I finished my food faster than him, oddly, because his food had less portion than mine. 

"I shall check on the driver now." I wiped my mouth and got up from my seat, heading to the front door. 

The car was ready and parked perfectly. I smiled and headed back to the dining table, "Sir, the car is waiting for you." He just finished drinking, "Oh my god, you know me so well, Ben. I will wait for you in the car, okay?" He tapped me on the shoulder. I grabbed the empty dirty plates, glasses, and utensils on the table to put them away in the sink. The chef was enjoying his food on the counter, "Here are the dirty dishes. I will go now."

"Yeah, man. Enjoy your time," he said. I went outside to where the car was, the passenger front seat was empty because Master took the back seat, his favorite seat. 

"Good Morning, Butler Ben," the driver greeted me when I got in.

"Good Morning."

"So, are we going to the Boutique, Mr. Iplier?" He looked up while reading a magazine, "Oh yeah, yeah. You know which one. Also, can you play another radio channel too? I'm kinda getting bored with this one. You know, to try something new," he said as he continued reading the magazine.

"Of course, anything for you, sir." The driver changed the radio channel as the car started, driving to one of the most popular department stores, I. Magnin.

The day went on, it was about a 45-minute drive from the manor. We went through the department store to get a new suit but the size seemed to be bigger than his. Odd. He also got a box of chocolate, a flower bouquet, and a wrapped gift. It wasn't much for him, was he going on a date? He looked at the time, we had been there for more than an hour. Why did it hurt me a bit knowing he got a new date?

"It seemed like that's all. We should head back now, don't want to miss my afternoon nap," he said while stretching his body. The Driver and I were just assisting him with his shopping bags. We just walked around the department store for quite a long time now. 

We headed back to the car, putting the items beside him as I went to the front passenger seat. Master was just sitting there in the back while crossing his legs while we drove back to the manor.

Third Person POV

Timeskip

Time passed by, and Actor Mark was getting ready for something. It was almost sunset, Ben on the other hand was cleaning up the house. The thought of Mark going on a date was stuck in his head, hurting him inside. He had been on the first floor for the whole afternoon since Mark had told him not to go upstairs because he didn't want to be bothered? So, he did what he asked, not going upstairs. 

After cleaning, Ben decided to head back to his room and clean up, taking a shower. He didn't have much plan that evening, perhaps, reading a book would help past the time.

--

There were knocks on the door while he was fixing his tie after showering, and he wasn't sure who it was, the door was then opened, and it was The Chef, "Ben, Mark wants to see you upstairs on the balcony, he said that he needed help to prepare for his date or something." Ben looked at him, he needed to examine his facial reaction just in case he was messing around with him since he always did that to him,

"How can I be sure that you're not messing with me?"

"See it for yourself, man. You know how it is when Mark is mad." He narrowed his eyes as he walked past him, heading upstairs to the balcony.

The sun was slowly setting, it was a beautiful view along with dim lights from the city in the distance. He walked out to see a table set, the tablecloth, a vase of roses, candelabra, utensils, glasses, and plates. He didn't set this for sure. There was also the chocolate box and bouquet on one of the chairs. Ben felt relieved knowing Mark wouldn't be as miserable as he was after the divorce but again, a scar was made along the relief. 

'Wait, he's not here. Chef, I'm gonna come for yo-'

"Ah! Ben! There you are!" The familiar voice appeared behind me, he was admiring how amazing Actor looked in the suit, it was a different suit that I hadn't seen before, it wasn't the one that he bought. He shook his head a bit to brush off the thoughts, noticing he was holding two boxes that were wrapped beautifully.

"What do you need me for, sir?" he asked. Actor sat down on the opposite chair from where the bouquet and chocolate box were,

"How do I look?" he asked while facing me. 'Beautiful' 

"You look amazing, sir. Who is the lucky one if I may ask?" 

"Well..." He got up and looked down at the boxes, Ben was waiting for the answer nervously and anxiously. 

"One of the most amazing people I ever met." He smiled to himself, "I'm sure the person must've felt lucky to have you, si-"

"... and he's standing in front of me." 

Ben's POV

What? 

I was shocked by what he said. Me? No. The feelings that I had pushed aside came back at me. I could feel my cheeks heating up, I mean, he meant it as a friend, perhaps,

"I wasn't sure when the feeling appeared but every time you were there for me, it was like the first time feeling love again. I love you, Ben. Happy Valentine's Day," he softly said. His hands extended to me, lending me the boxes of gifts.

"You should try the suit, I'm sure it looks good on you," I was still speechless about what was going on but gracefully accepted the gifts. All this time, he also had the same feeling as me, perhaps burying it down. Or was he waiting for this moment to come?

"I... I am sorry. I am out of words. Thank you. I..." He was waiting for my answer, I couldn't form words in my head, "I also have been feeling the same way. I was just afraid that it would ruin my job." There I said it.

"Oh, Ben..." he stopped for a moment, "I noticed it, I was just waiting for this moment. I just thought that maybe it'd be more romantic if we do it right here, at this moment, during Valentine's Day." I smiled to myself, what were these butterflies feeling in my stomach? Should I just do it? Do it, Ben. Kiss him.

I put down the boxes on the chair. I turned around to face him as we both got closer, I could feel my heart beating faster, slightly sweating. I was taller than him so I needed to look down to see his eyes, I put my hand on his waist and slowly leaned down, planting my lips on his. He smiled and kissed me back. 

After waiting, it felt amazing. All those emotions just felt fulfilled. The connection and chemistry were strong, I could feel them. It was passionate. It wasn't long until I let go, "I should try on the suit now. Again, thank you, sir."

"Please, call me Mark from now on." I grabbed the bigger box, "I will."

I went to change to the new suit for the date tonight. The date that I didn't expect. 

It was truly planted as a core memory for me.

#markiplier #who killed markiplier #actor mark x butler ben #actor mark #markiplier fanfiction #fanfiction

[bots-and-cons]

Idk if there already is an 🦿anon but if not here i am

We need some dark shit with no happy ending. I was thinking like bots are visiting earth and find out their charge died from cancer but before passing they made a little goodbye video for bots especially their guardian.

I thought it would look better as a scenario but if its easier for you the please do hcs

For the bots i really wanted to read our grumpy medic, OP and wheeljack

Youre an amazing writer idk how are you doing this

Keep up the amazing work❤

I sort of did this for Jackie a while back, you can find that post here, so I won't be writing it again. I tried to give this a darker ending, and not a kind of hopeful one like I usually would. Also thank you very much and hello leg anon :D

~Optimus Prime~

You had been diagnosed a few months after the autobots had left earth and you really wanted to tell Optimus, but you had no way of doing so. You had been given approximately a year to live, and you held out hope for seeing him until your very last moments.

When Optimus returned to earth after over two and half years on Cybertron, he was contacted by Fowler, who gave him a memory stick, telling Optimus you had asked him to give it to him. Optimus of course wondered why you couldn’t just give it to him yourself, but the reason was about to become very clear to him.

He tried to call you, but the number apparently was not in use anymore, which he just explained away with you changing your number.

When he couldn’t contact you, he decided to see what was on the memory stick. He plugged it into the old base computer, and a window popped up with a loading icon.

You appeared on screen, and the video started playing.

“Hey Optimus!” you said with a bit of a forcefully chipper demeanor. “I wonder if you’ll ever actually see this, or if you’ll come back before… Well I guess I should explain why I’m making this first” your smile started to fade as you continued talking to the camera. “I was diagnosed with MBC. That stands for metastatic breast cancer and to be totally honest, I’m going to die from it and probably quite soon”

Optimus paused the video. He was well aware this wasn’t a joke, you wouldn’t do that, you weren’t that kind of person, but he also couldn’t see how this could be real. He decided to continue the video.

“I decided to film this for you, and maybe for myself too, to make sense of this whole dying thing. It doesn’t feel real, I mean I can feel my body basically decaying, but it’s like I still haven’t accepted what that means. I wanted to tell you I miss you and I hope to see you before I’m gone. I also want to be honest with you, I hated you for a while after my diagnosis, because you weren’t here and I felt so damn alone” you turned away from the camera a bit and wiped your eyes. 

Optimus was filled with grief and confusion. He was also angry at himself, for not leaving you a way to contact him. There was a small pause before you continued.

“Anyway I’ve come to terms with that I guess, I just still don’t understand how this whole thing can have such bad timing. If I was going to die anyway, I’d rather it had been with you and the rest of the team here” you started having a hard time with keeping yourself together.

“There are so many things I wanted to tell you, but now that I’m actually doing this, not a single one comes to mind. I guess it’s just time for me to say goodbye” you waved at the camera and the video stopped on you with a small smile on your face and eyes closed with some tears brimming in your eyes.

That was the last Optimus saw of you. You were dead now and he would never see you again.

Optimus hadn’t even noticed how weak the whole situation had made him feel, before he was suddenly on his knees on the floor, holding onto the edge of the computer screen. He felt weak and his spark felt like it was about to explode out of his chest. Above all he felt empty, he felt like a part of him had been ripped away, someone he had held so dear, his friend, was gone and there was nothing that could change that.

~Ratchet~

You didn’t really know how to start the video. You didn’t really feel like explaining the whole thing to someone again. So you were just going to make it short and to the point.

“Hey Ratch. I’m just gonna keep this short. I’m dying and I don’t have much time left, so I just wanted to tell you some things. First of all, you’ll always be dear to me, no matter where I end up or what happens to me. Second of all, I know you’re gonna feel guilty about not being here with me in my last moments, but you shouldn’t. No one knows when shit like this is gonna happen so, there’s no reason for you to feel bad about it. I mean yeah, dying sucks, but there’s nothing I can do about it. So, goodbye Ratchet, take care of yourself”

The video ended and the screen went black. Ratchet was left feeling all kinds of things, but mostly he felt broken, like a piece of him had broken into a million smaller pieces that were impossible to pick up and put back together again. He had lost friends before, but it  was due to war, there had been a reason for their deaths. For you, it was some illness that you had no chance of winning against, you had nothing to fight against, no war to win. 

There was no one else around while Ratchet watched the video, so there was no one to see him completely break down over it. The tears were streaming down his face and he was sobbing, trying to keep his voice down, covering his mouth with his hand, so nobody would hear him. He didn’t want anyone seeing him like this, he didn’t want their pity or to hear how sorry they were about his loss. That wouldn’t bring you back.

Sure you had been friends with the other team members too, but your relationship with Ratchet had been different, you were like family to each other. Your memory would live on with him, long after you were gone and he would always remember you.

#transformers #tfp #transformers prime #autobots #ratchet #optimus prime #tfp scenarios #transformers angst #reader insert #platonic transformers x reader

[yukidragon]

Heeeey YukiDragon!

Big fan; been low-key tearing through your SDJ headcanons and making notes for a fic that I'm somehow 25K deep in after only a few days....

Anyway, wanted to ask: what do YOU think the sun in the corner of the screen when you play SJD indicates? Because *I* have thoughts...but I also wanted to pick your brain 👀

Apologies if you've already been asked this! 😅

I’m really glad you like my headcanons and that I could be helpful for your fic!

I haven’t been asked about this actually, and I happen to have a few thoughts and screenshots I’d like to share!

This took me a couple tries to capture the full title screen before the “start” button appears. I did it to get see more of the children’s drawing of the ‘84 incident where Jack died. The crying of Jack, the children, and the X eyes make it pretty clear that’s what’s being depicted.

You’ll notice in the corner that the sun with the red, yellow, and blue swirls is obscured by a crinkled cloud, and three primary colors are awash in a layer of bloody red. This affects the border around the game as well.

We get to see this cloudy sun more clearly once we start the game... while Jack is talking to his sunshine for the first time.

There’s a cloud obscuring the sun, and all the colors are washed out in an unpleasant shade of gray. The border similarly is washed out. Curiously the text box is normal and vividly colored.

Then, when we jump ahead to MC’s monologue that takes place after they’ve started living with Jack and accepted him as a part of everyday life, the colors are vibrant all around. There’s no cloud blocking the sun. The corner icon remains like this for the rest of the game regardless of choices, including in the mini story with Ian at the end.

I want to show all three versions of this icon up close and side by side so you can see the difference better for yourselves.

I think the symbolism is pretty obvious here. The cloud and unpleasant colors muting the bright and cheerful colors that represent Sunny Day Jack... I imagine this is going to be an indication of when the relationship with Jack is deteriorating... or perhaps his mind.

I honestly hadn’t noticed this detail until someone pointed it out in this post, then I searched for every instance where this might change. I would’ve assumed that we might see it cloudy again in the “no” route, but it was still the sunny version there too.

What I suspect is that the user interface we see during the game is going to be affected by the route we’re on and the choices we make, specifically when it comes to our relationship with Jack and how it affects his state of mind. When everything is positive and MC’s feelings towards Jack are favorable, it’ll be sunny and colorful. When it’s negative... that’s when the cloud comes in and the colors are muted.

I suspect that when things start going this negative route, the interface in the text box is going to change as well. We might see dingier colors, stains, or even tears in the paper. After all, we’re given crinkly paper textures and folded up stickers in the regular interface. The cloud over the sun is especially crinkly. We might get more font changes as well besides just red text.

In this way, the game user interface is doing some storytelling here, likely giving us a hint of Jack’s state of mind. He is solidly in the mindset of Sunny Day Jack, who is all colorful, cheerful, and even child friendly.

Starting to lose his sunshine... that’s going to make Jack start to degrade, I think. His grasp on reality and his sunshine’s love is slipping. He is at risk of being forgotten in that cold, sleepless static hell where God had abandoned him...

I think that as Jack’s sanity starts slipping, that’s when the framing is going to be darker, more unsettling. Jack has the potential to be our foe after all, and he’s certainly a yandere considering what he does to Nick no matter what choices we make in the demo...

If I was to make a guess about what these mean currently... The red version with the cloud is the harshest of them all. It could, in a very real sense, represent Jack while he’s trapped in hell, reliving his gruesome death over and over again. He can’t leave it until MC plays the tape... or we start the game.

Then things change for Jack. He’s not reliving his death, he’s interacting with someone. He’s still wounded, as evidenced by the dimmed colors and the cloud obscuring his sun. MC doesn’t care for him yet because they don’t know him yet. However, by contrast the text interface is colored cheerfully, almost welcoming. The presence of someone interrupting his hell and reaching out to him gives him hope.

Then finally... everything is bright. MC wants Jack around no matter the route. They want him in their life to be their friend, or maybe more. They make him feel love, which of course makes him feel happy. He loves them. He’s free. He’s warm and basking in their happy light. Everything will be wonderfully sunny... as long as no one takes his sunshine away.

What’s interesting too is that by showing that the game’s interface is malleable in this way... it might hint that Jack could be a character who breaks the 4th wall and addresses the player directly at some point. After all, we’re the ones that start the game and let him live again. We’re supporting him and the game being made in the first place. It could even be more confusing to him why we would pick the “no” option when we’re literally playing the game for his company and love.

Personally, I think this is just a meta touch for us as players. It’s much too soon to jump to the conclusion that Jack is a 4th wall breaking entity like Monika from Doki Doki Literature Club, Flowey from Undertale, or other games like that where the characters address the player directly. We haven’t gotten any real hints that he’s interested in us, the player, rather than the MC we’re guiding through the story. MC does have their own personality after all, and a pretty strong one.

Still... it would make sense why Jack can read MC’s thoughts if he was a 4th wall breaker. After all... he could just be reading their narration right alongside us.

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur  

#Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask #Sauce-y Art

[nitefise-art]

Companion fic to my Zero comic, Part 1/?

--

If you asked the staff at Uva Academy, there was scarcely another person in Mesagoza more passionate about their job than Director Clavell himself.  The students are his greatest treasure, they will tell you; and of course, that much was obvious.  Nothing else would quite explain the “Glossary of modern slang” spreadsheet (of dubious accuracy) permanently on his desktop.  

Equally true, although they would all be far too modest to admit it, was that Director Clavell also treasured his staff.  Each was exceptional, in their own unique way, and, as such, indispensable to the academic institution.  Dendra, for example, was a remarkable athlete. Saguaro, “wholesome”, as the expression was used these days.  Jacq, brilliant, although you would be forgiven for thinking otherwise on first impressions alone.  Tyme, well…Tyme was… Tyme.  And Raifort, a woman with an encyclopaedic knowledge of history and a flair for the dramatics.

So Clavell thought, as the last-mentioned woman stood before him, peering at him over her glasses.

“Lovely to see you,” he had said.  “How can I be of assistance?”

“You might want to rethink that adjective,” she had countered, “after you hear what I’m about to say.”

Heavens, it was going to be a long day.

“I’ve had reports that students were seen entering the Zero Gate.”

Clavell’s eyebrows shot up.  Perhaps he had been wrong to judge her after all.

“The Zero Gate?!  Are you quite sure?”

“Well, it’s not like I’ve investigated myself, but you know what they say about smoke and fire.”

“No, quite right…”

Now Clavell felt judged, by the single hand resting on the history teacher’s hip, no less.  He didn’t dare look up at the raised eyebrow he knew was there, and busied himself with examining the surface of his table as he pondered the proposition. If it was true, how could they have gotten in?  The security on that door was first‑rate in the region, and he certainly hadn’t authorised any entries, not in the last five years at least.  The only other person with enough clearance was—

Clavell sprang up.  

If Raifort was surprised when Professor Turo’s icon appeared on the TV screen, she did not show it; or, perhaps, she was already one step ahead of him.  What she could not be privy to, however, was the growing apprehension plaguing the man next to her that perhaps he already knew who it was that was seen crossing the forbidden threshold.  Perhaps he knew from the moment he laid eyes on that strange Cyclizar.  The day Turo had rather abruptly requested an audience with the new student.  

Clavell shifted his weight from one foot to the other as the static image of his friend stared back at him.  A familiar face, although one that reminded him with each passing year that time spared no one—not even the man whose energy seemed like it could burn forever.

The ringing came to an abrupt stop.

“PROFESSOR TURO IS CURRENTLY UNAVAILABLE.”

Clavell tried to convince himself that it was probably nothing, that Turo was probably just busy (or on the loo, perhaps), but the pit of his stomach insisted otherwise.  

“…I apologise for being abrupt, Ms Raifort, but I must go.”  But not without forgetting his manners.  “Thank you for bringing this to my attention.”

“You’re not planning on heading down there yourself, Director?”

There was no hiding from a woman wizened by human history.  And yet, what could he do?  Lead a group of teaching staff down into an active research zone?  Ask the League and wait up to three working days for a response while there were children loose in Area Zero?  No, if Turo had really achieved what he suspected, Clavell would have to see to this personally.

“Please advise Ms Tyme that the usual protocols apply in my absence.  I should not be gone more than 24 hours.”

It was going to be a very long day.

#pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon sv #director clavell #clavell #ms raifort #raifort #mention of #turo #professor turo #nitefise-art #my writing #zerofic #x

[writerlyhabits]

White Christmas

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader

Word Count: 4.7k

Summary: The Holiday season catches Bucky by surprise, but after a less-than-ideal morning, a friendly invitation from his new neighbor is more tempting than he would have anticipated. 

Prologue to the Neighbors Series | Masterlist | Ch. 1 

Warnings: language, festive holiday things (I tried to keep it very vague so all celebrations could be filled in), talk of wartime and Bucky’s past, I think that’s it… 

AN: Happy Holidays!! I was watching White Christmas – one of my favorite Christmas movies, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend it – and the opening scene made me think of Bucky and how he might react. I thought of his neighbor showing this movie to him, and then did the math backward from the timeline of my series and realized she moves in right around Christmas time… so this is the fic that happened 😂 Set before chapter one, you don’t have to have read any of Neighbors to be able to follow along, but there are nods to later chapters if you have.

Thank you @deceiverofgodss for listening to my rambling, ily 💛

Bucky let out a sigh of relief when he got all the little app icons to jumble around the way google had said, finding the app he’d just been using and tapping the buttons in the corner. Yes, I want to delete the app. 

It had been about a month since he’d been given this new life, and it was… still an adjustment. The Wakandans had been more than generous, Shuri and Ayo seeing to it directly that he had everything he needed. They organized the pardon trial, went through hoops to find him a decent lawyer, and helped him settle into the apartment the government had set up for him. Shuri, in fact, had scolded him when he tried to tell her he’d find the place on his own, saying something along the lines of him being too stubborn for his own good. 

It was very reminiscent of when his family had dropped his sister Rebecca off at school in Indiana. Ayo had told him they’d already prepped the place with everything he would need to get started, Shuri had excitedly whispered about a new tactical suit she’d hidden in the back of the closet – “just in case… you can never be too prepared” – and then they were gone. 

Bucky had been required to start weekly therapy sessions as part of his pardon, and begrudgingly – by court mandate – he went each Saturday morning to hear comments about finding out who he was again. It was exhausting. 

It had started with the haircut. He hadn’t lasted two weeks before the shoulder-length mess drove him crazy. Though that wasn’t fair… it wasn’t the length that bothered him, but the reflection in the mirror. His codes were broken and his life was in his own hands, but the Winter Soldier seemed to be staring back at him everywhere he looked. 

The short hair was an adjustment to say the least. But he had stepped out of the barbershop feeling lighter, like a new man. And the face that looked back at him was one he hadn’t seen in a long time. 

That being said, it had also directly led to a plan that was most definitely one of his worst. 

The last time he had truly been James Buchanan Barnes was back in the 1940s, notorious for being popular with women. So when that cocky confidence surged back up again, he had the not-so-brilliant idea to try it again. He thought that if he went back to being the ladies' man he once was, he’d find himself. 

A horrible decision, that one. 

Having no clue where to even start, he took to searching on google “How does dating work in the 21st century?” Which had him downloading a dating app. The one that he was getting rid of this very moment. 

It had done nothing but confuse him further. He couldn’t take a good picture of himself to save his life and had worse luck creating a description for his profile; in hindsight, “James. 105. Still don’t know what to put here… I think I’m better in person” probably wasn’t his best move. 

Most of the girls thought he was trying to be funny, and were disappointed when the following conversation proved otherwise. Some girls took his profile as an invitation to talk about a number of things he wished he didn’t understand. And a handful of them… well, he didn’t think he could blame his poor excuse of a profile for the pictures he’d been sent, but it happened nonetheless. 

The dates he had been on were filled with nothing but meaningless small talk and modern nuances he didn’t understand, leaving him with less and less of the already dwindling monthly check he’d gotten as part of his pardon. It didn’t take long for him to come to terms with the fact that groceries cost far more than they did in the forties, and that his three thousand dollar army retirement wasn’t exactly the sum it used to be, especially when rent took up so much of it. Maybe he shouldn’t have turned Murdock down when he’d suggested they fight for more… 

No, he didn’t need to be selfish, he would get by. It had saved him from having to deal with any more of the loud crowds of press or the looks people gave him in the courtroom, which was why Bucky had told Matt ‘no’ when he suggested they could get away with more than a retirement rate based on outdated economic values. 

He’d certainly survived on less when he was in Romania. He’d be fine. 

Bucky approached the top of the stairs that deposited him in front of his apartment, returning from the last of his lousy dates as the app in question disappeared from the screen. Good riddance. 

As he went to put his key in the lock, he heard steps behind him coming down from the floor above, and he turned to glance over his shoulder as his door clicked open, pleasantly surprised when he found you descending from the floor above. 

You had on a flattering sweater and looked very put together, as you always did, except it didn’t look like it offered you much warmth since you kept your crossed arms close to your body as you moved through the building. In another time, he’d leap to offer you his jacket or make some quippy remark about keeping you warm. He’d have to be blind not to admit you were a very pretty girl, one he would have gone after back in his prime… 

But he wasn’t that man anymore. Not by a long shot. Who he was, he had no idea, but the James Barnes of his past was not who was standing before you in the hall. 

You gave him a warm smile as you made eye contact, and he returned it with a friendly grin of his own.

“Hey! James, right?” You asked sweetly, and he nodded in confirmation as you fished your own keys out from the pocket of your jeans. “Funny how we seem to keep meeting like this… You at your door, me at mine,” you joked as you gestured between the two of you, and it genuinely made him laugh. 

“Such strange places for either of us to be. We can’t keep seeing each other like this,” he tossed back, your airy giggle filling the landing. You were the first person all day that he hadn’t minded starting a conversation with. He didn’t know you all that well, he’d only seen you in the building a handful of times, but your interactions always left him with a smile on his face – in comparison to the rest of his daily encounters, that was a high compliment.  “Making more banana bread rounds?” He asked only a little awkwardly, gesturing up the stairs you’d just descended from as he tried to keep the conversation going. . 

“Hm? Oh! No, not today,” you answered, a little uncertain yourself. At least, that’s what he could guess from your posture, picking at your hands as you kept them in front of you. 

“That’s good. I don’t need any competition for your leftovers,” he joked, earning an amused grin. 

“Is that so?” 

“Are you kidding? That was the best banana bread I’ve had in eighty years.” You laughed out loud, your face scrunched up as you threw your head back. At least it had come across as funny because he wouldn’t have known how to play it off otherwise. “I may or may not have polished it off in one sitting,” he continued when your laughter had come back down to a chuckle. 

“Oh gosh, I’m glad to hear it! I’ll have to let you know when I make another batch,” you smiled, the warmth in your voice practically reaching out and taking hold of him, and he couldn’t say he minded. 

“Please do.”

The conversation hit a short lull – though shockingly, not an awkward one – and he feared whether this would be the end of it. Something about you made it easy to open up a little bit more, and he liked branching out from talking to either his therapist or Mr. Nakajima; neither of those conversations were easy, but unfortunately required. You were different. 

Before he could worry too long, your brows shot up on your forehead as you came to some sort of realization. “Oh, hey! What are you doing for the holidays?” you asked excitedly. 

“I uh… I won’t lie, I hadn’t even realized Christmas was coming up so soon,” he admitted. “I don’t really have any plans.” He could confidently say that was the understatement of the century, having lived through most of it. 

“Well, if you need somewhere to go, I was gonna do something Christmas Eve. Just, y’know, make some snacks and put on a few holiday movies,” you shrugged, and for a moment, Bucky genuinely didn’t know how to respond. “I’m new to the city so I haven’t found my people just yet, but nobody needs to be alone during the holidays.” 

When Bucky met you, he had opened his door to find you smiling directly at him, handing him a plate of banana bread muffins, and introducing yourself as his neighbor across the hall. And now, only a few days later, you were inviting him into your apartment to celebrate the holidays. He hadn’t been graced with this amount of kindness in a very long time, and it was more refreshing than he was prepared for. 

“Is anyone else coming?” he asked slowly, not quite sure what to do with himself and this wave of emotion that had hit him. 

“Uh, well I’ve been knocking on other people’s doors kinda asking the same thing,” you started, gesturing to the stairs you’d come down from a few minutes ago. “A lot of people are traveling, or have other plans. Or, you know, are lying to the stranger who just invited them to her apartment a few floors down.” Your comedic shrug made him chuckle under his breath, and he liked how easily you put a smile back on his face. 

“So it’d just be you and me?” Did that realization make him nervous? This whole interaction would be a hell of a lot easier to navigate if he could just understand what the hell his own feelings were doing. 

“That’s what it looks like... if that makes it too weird, that’s okay! But if you’re an introvert like me and like that there won’t be people there, my offer still stands.” Now it was your turn to look at him a little nervously, completely unaware that he could tell, waiting to see if you would end up having to spend the holidays alone. 

In that moment he realized that you were just two lonely people. One in need of a little extra kindness, and one with that much extra to give, conveniently placed right at each other's doorsteps. 

“I’ll be there.” 

When Bucky knocked on your door a few days later, you answered in a cozy-looking sweater, leggings, and tall fuzzy socks with festive patterns on them. He started to feel a bit nervous about the stark contrast of his leather jacket and gloves – more specifically, about what he would say if you asked about taking them off  – but the warm smile that spread across your face managed to ease his worries. For now. 

“Hey! Come on in!” You beckoned, holding the door open wider and turning back into the apartment, allowing him to follow in after you. “I’m glad you came over, I’ve been here all day and I just… well, human interaction could do me some good,” you laughed, and he chuckled with you. 

“Don’t mention it. I’ve been there, it’s… I’m glad to fill the position.” You smiled sweetly as you flitted through the space to the kitchen, and he took a second to take in his surroundings while you were occupied. 

Your apartment had a different layout than his, your front door dropping him directly into your open living room on his left, and the decently sized kitchen separated by a half wall of counters to his right. It was hard to judge precisely how large the space was as the only things in the room were a couch, a TV sitting on a dresser that definitely wasn’t in its final position, and a neat arrangement of cardboard boxes in the middle of the living room. And yet, despite the lack of living this space had gone through, it was far more warm and inviting than he was expecting. Even so early on, it felt like a home. 

You had an assortment of foods and snacks jumbled together on the countertop closest to him, and he watched as you pulled a few more dips and toppings out of the fridge. He had half a mind to laugh at the comical amount of food you had prepared for just two people, but he was a super soldier whose monthly expenses were starting to make him count his pennies... He could make a sizable dent in your selection without even trying, and leave only feeling a little bit guilty. 

“Sorry for the mess,” you started, stepping around a different stack of boxes piled in front of your cabinets. “I definitely thought that I’d have plenty of time to make my apartment look presentable by now, but I underestimated how much crap I have, so… I’ve made my peace with the cardboard coffee table for now.”

“I mean, you’ve been here how long, maybe two weeks?” He asked, and you nodded as you popped a loaded cracker into your mouth. “I’d expect you to have a cardboard coffee table still. It’s only a small change from the three pieces of furniture in my living room.” 

“Three? How long have you lived here?” 

“About a month,” he answered with a tight-lipped smile, and a small grin appeared at the corner of your lips. “To be fair, I didn’t really have anything when I moved in, so it’s… a work in progress.” You nodded in understanding as you pointed at him with intention. 

“Well, that’s different! Having to furnish an apartment is expensive, it takes time. Organizing the hodge-podge of shit you’ve collected over the years is less forgiving,” you explained, and he laughed when you rolled your eyes at all the boxes still surrounding you. 

Bucky was still trying to figure out how he wanted to settle into your space, but watching you be so candid and casual within minutes of his arrival was like a palette cleanser. Sure, maybe you didn’t know about the vibranium hiding under his left sleeve – nor that the history associated with it was his to claim – but watching you pick nonchalantly at the finger foods displayed between you was slowly eating away at his unease. You were relaxed and comfortable around him…

It was a nice change. 

“Help yourself, don’t be shy! Eat as much as you like, I’m sick of reheated leftovers, so if you don’t eat them now you’ll be taking them home,” you ordered pointedly as you stepped back into the living room, leaving him chuckling quietly to himself. “I’ll go ahead and put on something festive… Do you like old movies, James?” you questioned as you reached for the tv remote.

“Define old movies…” he offered cautiously. Catching up on the pop culture of the last seventy years had been a daunting task he’d barely scratched the surface of. 

“Like, really old. Classic Hollywood, from the forties and fifties.” Thank god…

“Yes. Yeah, I do. They- Yep, those are my favorite,” he fumbled, grateful that he’d at least know how to steer his way through most of this conversation. You looked ecstatic at his answer. 

“Have you seen White Christmas?” You asked excitedly. 

Dammit.

“I uh- no, I haven’t gotten to that one yet.” 

“What?” you asked incredulously, sounding offended as you snapped your head around to look back at him. “Oh, we’re watching it right now, you’re gonna love it.” 

Bucky raised both of his brows as if to ask if you were serious, a playful expression tugging at his features, winning him over when you gave him a sly grin before turning back to find the movie on your screen. What was he getting himself into… 

“It’s got some big names, too. Rosemary Clooney, Bing Crosby, and … shoot, I always forget his name…” you trailed off, fidgeting your fingers in concentration. He spared a glance up at you as he waited for you to figure out what you were trying to say, only to see a familiar face appear on the screen as you selected the movie. Well, somewhat familiar. 

“Is that Danny Kaye?” He piped up, remembering that painted smiling face from posters when he was younger.

When Becca came home from school in the summer of what had to be 1940, his family had driven up to Manhattan. As a treat, their parents had bought tickets to a show at the popular nightclub there – La Martinique – to see none other than Danny Kaye and his wife perform. It had been earlier in his career than whatever this movie was you were trying to show him, but if the smile on your face had anything to say for it, the vintage actor’s career must have done pretty well after the Barnes family had a chance to see him.

If he only had a nickel for each time he’d seen a celebrity in the 40s end up doing well for themselves. One for Danny Kaye, one for Howard Stark… That money could’ve at least bought him a soda to enjoy while being promised flying cars – and he was still waiting on those. 

You snapped your fingers and pointed back at him with a wide expression of relief. “Yes!! Danny Kaye… Ugh, he’s so good in this.” 

“No kidding. I’ve seen him in- uh… in other movies,” he started, recovering weakly from almost letting a detail slip that he very much would not have been able to explain. ‘I watched him perform in person over 70 years ago’ wasn’t exactly a shared experience. “My interest is piqued. Let’s see if it’s as good as you say,” he teased, happy when you hadn’t caught onto his blunder and shot him a smug look.

“It will be.” 

…

Bucky didn’t know what to expect from your classic holiday movie, but opening on a scene from the front lines of the war hadn’t been anywhere close. 

“Christmas Eve, 1944.”

That was a date he’d remembered living, having spent it similarly to what he saw on the screen. The Howling Commandos had banded together in their temporary camp, pulling together any bits and pieces they could to decorate one of the smaller trees growing just inside the perimeter. The men had shared traditions from back home, sang holiday carols, and kept Dum Dum Dougan from doing anything too outlandish. He definitely kept Steve on his toes, acting as an oversized mother hen to the whole group. 

“God, some of them are just so young.” 

Your voice took Bucky out of his thoughts, looking up to see your gaze locked on the screen with a commiserative expression. Your eyes followed a young soldier in one of the back rows before you turned back to look at him, becoming a little sheepish as you attempted a smile. 

“I know that sounds ridiculous. Like, they’re not actually out at war, he’s just an extra in the background, but…”

“But it happened.” 

He’d seen those boys come in. As Sergeant James Barnes of the U.S. Army in 1943, he’d seen men of all ages come into his responsibility as privates, the war encouraging an influx of men enlisting, himself included. Some of his men had wives and families they were fighting for. Some of them were around his age, having nothing better to do with their “able bodies” than surrender them to their country’s use. 

Some of those boys were freshly eighteen, enlisted mere days after their birthdays, and dropped in his hands. He’d even seen some as young as seventeen, having managed to get away with lying their way into the army, and each one of them made him feel more and more anxious about Steve’s ability to succeed at doing the very same thing. 

“I think people forget about that, sometimes,” you continued, your gaze back on the screen as you looked through the crowd of soldiers in between the crooner’s solo shots. “Just how young, or even how human these soldiers were.” 

He felt a lump start to form in his throat at your sentiment. 

“Obviously I know that these guys aren’t actually out on the front lines,” you continued, a small laugh escaping as you gestured toward the movie. “But I just… it makes me think about the soldiers who were actually out there and the lives they had. Their loved ones, wives and children, friends and girlfriends they might have left behind. What they went through when they were out there…” 

You paused, and when he studied the tight-lipped smile you were giving him, he knew you were trying to stop yourself from getting emotional. It caused a strange sort of tug of war in his brain, instincts that had been long since dormant wanted to prevent your tears, keep you happy. And yet, he was baffled by how moved you were by stories of these soldiers…

Soldiers like him. 

“Sorry, this- I know this is silly, but-” 

“I don’t think it is,” he offered quickly, and his train of thought was momentarily derailed when your sparkling eyes caught his – apparently the power of a pretty woman’s crying eyes still had an effect on him seventy years later.

He may not have been that same suave ladies' man anymore, but he wasn’t about to deny the fact that you were a very pretty woman, one that the old James Barnes would have been pushing people aside to ask you for a dance. He was old, not blind. 

“Really? Getting all sentimental about people who don’t really exist?” You snarked, trying to laugh it off. 

“But some of those men – the actual people – don’t have anyone to think about them like this anymore. Its… I think they’d appreciate knowing someone remembered their efforts.” He needed to stop and collect his thoughts for a moment, dancing on that line between his truth and the white lies he’d been telling so as not to stand out as a 105-year-old war veteran. 

If you kept looking at him like you could see into his soul he’d be spilling his guts in no time. He wasn’t ready to be seen like that, not by anyone, not by you. You were the only person he had actually wanted to talk to, he liked getting to know you, getting to relax for two fucking seconds without being holed away from the rest of the world…

He couldn’t risk losing that. Losing you. 

“I- I hadn’t thought of it that way,” you contemplated, pursing your lips as you reevaluated your emotions. “What made you think of it like that?” 

I’m one of them. 

Yeah, that wasn’t an option. 

“Uh, my dad, I think… he was in the Army before I was,” he started, which wasn’t technically a lie. But with the exaggeration, it gave him a moment to reflect on the truth, and remember those moments with his father so many years ago. “He was able to come home early after being wounded overseas. But even years later, he would look at the young men in their uniforms with this look in his eye… like he was taking the time to understand them, care for their situation like he wished he’d had someone to do for him.” 

George Barnes had never been a man of many words, especially not about his feelings. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t shared his stories with his children and passed on the legacy he’d carried with him through his service years. 

And now haunting the conversation Bucky was boring you with now. Way to be a sad sack, Barnes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring the whole mood down,” he tried, giving you an apologetic grimace, but your expression only softened. 

“Stop, you didn’t bring anything down. Besides, I started it,” you shrugged, and he couldn’t help but chuckle nervously. “So, you said you’re in the Army?” 

Did he say that? 

He did. 

Shit. 

“I- well, I was. I’m uh… I’m not now.” Oh this was going fucking swimmingly. “I was discharged,” he finished awkwardly. He was tempted to just walk out your front door. Empty stomach, empty hands, dignity in shambles… but his identity intact. 

“Oh, okay. Do you mind me asking what happened?” 

Every muscle in his body was telling him to run. Get up and bolt out the door. But what good would that do him? You were his Neighbor. He couldn’t go far, and even if he escaped this conversation now, he would still see you in the hall between your apartments. 

Bucky was stuck. If he ran, your friendship would be strained. It was even a friendship yet, it wasn’t anything yet, and he would ruin it. But if he stayed, one more slip could mean you finding out who he was. And what then? Would the Winter Soldier come back to ruin this for him anyway? 

“I was… medically discharged,” he started, his throat tight as he forced himself to say something. Maybe if he kept it vague, he stood a chance at making it out to see the light on the other side. “There was an accident. I uh… well, I don’t usually talk about it.” 

“I’m so sorry, I- we don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry,” you rushed to assure him, mere moments after he’d fumbled his way through an excuse. He felt like he’d just run a marathon, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he realized he’d somehow made it through. You were now the one sitting awkwardly, fiddling with your hands once again as you wracked your brain for a change of subject, some way to backpedal towards common ground. 

The two of you had that in common. 

“It’s okay, really. Besides, I started it,” he tried, throwing your words back at you with a small grin. A strange sense of ease washed over him when you laughed, relaxing back into your seat and sparing a glance back at the television screen. 

The division had just finished singing a heartfelt song to their general – much more emotional than he wagered the average man of his time was capable of expressing, but that’s a Hollywood adaptation for you – when the sounds of explosions became much more prominent, men running for cover this way and that. It was, unfortunately, a familiar scene. 

“You have to watch this!” You cried, quick at attention once you realized which part of the movie you were in. “It goes by quickly, but it’s important!” 

“Alright alright, I’m watching,” Bucky smiled, welcoming the topic change as he settled on the couch next to you, watching this scene you deemed so important before he set out to tear into the snacks on the counter. 

Much to his own surprise, it was really nice. If someone had told him a month ago that he would thoroughly enjoy himself as he watched a movie on his neighbors couch, he wouldn’t have believed you. But he also wouldn’t have been able to anticipate that the neighbor in question would sing along to all the songs or gush about the sway of the women’s skirts – he listened as you described your dream dress in great detail, and he hung onto every word. “Something just like this pink one Judy has on, but maybe in a darker color? Like a dark blue…” 

Bucky wouldn’t have believed he’d be laughing over a plate of appetizers as you mocked the nasally blonde side character, or stopping himself from spitting his coke everywhere when you rattled on about just how “freakishly tiny” Judy’s waist was – your words, not his. He’d even found himself comfortable enough to open up on his own, avoiding any conversation coming close to his complicated past, but he liked being able to talk with you about things he was familiar with. 

He’d helped you set up your record table when he brought it up on accident, relieved when you offered to give him a tour of your collection when it was a similar interest. And, having moved into aiding with  handiwork around your apartment, he was quick to offer his super-solider enhancements to get the dresser moved at least to the right room. You tried to insist he didn’t have to, but when you watched how easily he accomplished it, the protest fell quietly out of the conversation. 

He liked being useful. He liked making you laugh… Mostly, he liked feeling like himself again. Whoever he was, it felt good to be someone he didn’t mind seeing in the mirror. 

Maybe he’d run into you in the hall more often. 

Thanks for reading!! If you’d like to be notified when I post a new fic, be sure to follow @writerlyhabits-library + turn on post notifications! 💛

Masterlist | Ch. 1 

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #neighbors #neighbor!bucky #neighbors series #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #white christmas #christmas fic #holiday fics #holiday season #kam speaks

[spook-spectre-ghost]

Can we talk about the way each scientist is introduced to the audience?

The introduction of three of our male leads (sorry Winston) perfectly encapsulates who they are as people. There’s no beating around the bush. We get to see exactly who they are from the moment they appear on screen.

Peter Venkman:

Peter’s first scene forces the audience to see him for exactly what he is — a charismatic womanizer who likely got his degree because he thought it’d impress the ladies.

He’s shocking the poor male volunteer, even when he finally guesses correctly. He’s shamelessly hitting on the female volunteer. We get to see Peter at his worst — sleazy, conniving, and manipulative. And we as the audience have to come to terms with the fact that this hopelessly flawed guy is one of our heroes. We’re going to have to follow this dude around for the next approximately 105 minutes. And somehow, we’re going to end up developing a soft spot for this weasel because above all, Peter is charming. He’s confident. He cracks the majority of the jokes.

Much of Peter’s exposition also ties in with Ray’s, which is a rather convenient segway into our second introduction.

Ray Stantz:

Couldn’t for the life of me find a gif of Ray entering. Apologies for that.

Ray enters their office with enthusiasm, completely ignoring the fact that Peter is currently laying on the charm with his female volunteer.

He’s a man on a mission, (“We’re on a mission from God” — [shot] ) as he looks for the gear he needs. He’s clearly thrilled when he explains to Peter that there’s been a ghost sighting.

Peter provides a bit of exposition for Ray — namely, that he flat-out doesn’t care about ghosts.

But Ray is adamant that he come along, because Raymond Stantz is the believer.

This is the heart of the Ghostbusters at his finest — honest, enthusiastic, straightforward, and a perpetual optimist. We also get some technical jargon that suggests he’s incredibly smart. Ray isn’t some deluded conspiracy nut — he’s a scientist. A true scientist, unlike Venkman.

In many ways, Ray is a foil to Venkman. They serve to provide contrast to each other in order to show the many facets of each character.

Ray is honest. Peter is scheming.

Ray is an optimist. Peter is a realist.

Ray is a scientist, while Peter is only masquerading as one.

And last but certainly not least —

Egon Spengler:

Egon’s introduction is iconic for a reason. This snazzily dressed bespectacled genius is sitting cross-legged on the floor, brows furrowed in concentration as he sits listening to a table.

This serves to let the audience know one very key fact about Egon — he’s weird.

Spengler doesn’t have to try to be weird, he’s just existing that way. And much like Ray, Egon is a dedicated scientist. However, he’s much more of your standard stiff intellectual from the get-go.

(Side note: this is the moment I knew he was my favorite. This strange snazzy man is intensely concentrated on listening to a table whilst sitting on the floor like a gremlin. What a guy. …Anyway, back to analyzing —)

Again, Peter plays the foil to Egon — deliberately messing with him by knocking on the table and slamming a book down while Egon listens to it.

Peter fools around. Egon is no-nonsense.

When the book hits, everyone looks up to locate the source of the noise. Again, a contrast between Peter and Egon.

Spengler is not drawing attention to himself. He’s just quietly listening to a table with a stethoscope; this means that his quirks aren’t performative. Egon’s not trying to impress anyone, he’s just doing his job.

Venkman, on the other hand? He’s there for less than a minute before he draws the attention of everyone present.

Then we get the second key fact about Egon via some of his first lines of dialogue, once again with Peter playing the foil.

“Egon, this reminds me of the time you tried to drill a hole through your head. Remember that?”

“That would’ve worked if you hadn’t stopped me.”

This line. This is the one that gives us a peek into what Egon is like beneath that rigid no-nonsense exterior — he’s a mad scientist. He’s willing to drill a hole through his own head, presumably in the pursuit of science. And given that Venkman had to step in and stop him, there’s a good chance that Egon doesn’t have a ton of common sense.

To all appearances, this guy is pretty bland — your standard boring suit-and-tie scientist. But this line, which if I remember correctly was ad-libbed by Harold Ramis, shows the audience that there’s more to Egon than meets the eye.

In conclusion, each of these three entrances are perfect for introducing the audience to our favorite ghostbusting scientists. We know the core of the character. We know what their dynamic is like.

And now we’re ready to join them as they become unlikely business partners and somehow save the world while they’re at it.

#ghostbusters #peter venkman #ray stantz #egon spengler #scene analysis #character analysis #spook spectre post

[rivetgoth]

IN more positive news we checked out a new goth/dark electronic dance club last night that was geared mostly towards queer Latinos, with three bands playing that were all soooooo fun. We mostly went for ¿La Pregunta? who are this local queer punky EBM band that are sooooooo fun live, it was our third time seeing them and IMO the best they’ve ever sounded. I hadn’t seen Soltera before but Angel and Jason both had and they were also really good. Then finally MS. BOAN was the headliner and omfg, she was so drunk, she spent like as much time yelling things into the mic as she did singing and she ended up doing the same song twice in a row 😭 At the end of the night she actually tried to come back onto the stage and keep talking and the DJs faded her out by turning up their music so loud it was like earsplitting 😭 BUT SHE WAS SOOO FUN like the music itself was really good, her singing still sounded great, and her stage presence was great, she’s such a rockstar like…. She was iconic fr. Definitely check out all three— ¿La Pregunta?, Soltera, and MS. BOAN. The Latino dark alt scene is going off and LA is a really good US hotspot for it, all three bands are great and the crowd was also really really fun.

[detroit-grand-prix]

Wildest Dreams Chapter 25 - Holy Ground, Part 1

Chapter summary: Bee has been pushing all season towards one goal - doing well at her first-ever home Grand Prix in Austin, Texas, but she feels the pressure building, and a lot of things are changing.

Content warning: N/A

Chapter word count: 6,009

Author's Notes: This is the beginning of the end of the main story arc. This chapter had to be split into two parts because it was so long. I started planning this story in May and finished it in August, and I had a ton of fun writing it out. I'd grown attached to it to the point where I am still writing little one-off chapters and side stories for it. Anyway, not too many notes this chapter, other than the elements from Bee's custom helmet. The Spirit of Detroit statue, which is one of my favorite landmarks in Detroit. The We Can Do It! poster, which you will definitely be familiar with if you're from the US. Maybe even if you're not, it's a pretty iconic image by now. I also referenced it in one of the Monza chapters, in one of the fake tweets. Super Bee logo - The Super Bee was a muscle car produced by Dodge for a few years in the 60's and 70's, and then they brought the model name back for a trim package for the Dodge Charger in the late 2000's. I think the emblem is cute, but I don't know if Bee would have to get permission to use the emblem on her helmet or not, but this is fanfiction, so I can do what I want (within reason).

Grove, Oxfordshire, England, United Kingdom Mid-September 2021

The season was just over halfway through, and Bee was starting to feel the pressure of meeting her goal of getting on the podium. She’d been so close. God, so close. She finished as high as fifth. It was in Monza, of course, which she thought was her best chance, and it would have worked, and it would have been second if she hadn’t screwed up timing on the safety car after the crash that took Lewis and Max out of the race. She and George tried to double-stack to change tires, but she was a few seconds too late to come out into the pits in second and couldn’t manage to make up the places she’d lost. 

The worst part was it wasn’t her crew’s fault - she was concentrating so hard on making a good exit that she somehow missed the green light from the pit. She’d never seen anyone do that, let alone her. She felt awful.

She felt like she’d blown the opportunity with the two main podium contenders out. The frustration rattled her harder than she expected it to.

At least George had managed to secure a podium before that, in Belgium. There was barely a race run, but George put on a spectacular qualifying in the rain, qualifying in P2. They ended up only racing for two full laps, and the top 10 finishers were only awarded half points, but it was Williams’ first podium since 2012. On the bright side, Williams was an astounding sixth in the constructor’s championship now. It was their highest placement in years, and meant hundreds of millions in prize money for the team. The year before Bee joined, they weren’t even able to score a single point, now they were absolutely a midfield team.

It was a bittersweet occasion, though, because three days before, George had signed with Mercedes for the 2022 season. It was announced a week later, but Toto had told Bee already, because they were starting discussions for her contact for the next year as well.

“I’m really happy for him.” She told Toto. “He absolutely deserves it, but… I’m a little selfish and will miss being on a team with him.”

“Well, in a way, you are still on a team with him - that is what I told him when he had his incident with Valtteri earlier this year. You’re still a Mercedes driver.”

“I know, but it's not going to be quite the same, but I’m more excited for him than I am sad for me, trust me.”

As far as her contract with Williams, Bee opted to only seek another one-year agreement. She was starting to feel like her career had an expiration date that was sooner than most drivers, and she wasn’t sure how she would get along with the incoming team principal, who was Williams’ current CEO, Jost Capito. 

She hadn’t actually worked with him very much, not yet. He seemed like an amenable guy. He was German, and had come from the world of rally car racing. The person that was originally tapped to be Claire’s replacement had backed out, so Jost decided to absorb his role and be CEO and Team Principal instead of hiring someone else. At least he was going to be hands-on.

The only alternative that Bee was willing to confront was if Lewis won his 8th WDC at the end of the season, surpassed Schumacher’s record, and retired. The sport would be bereft without Lewis, of course, but Bee would certainly be in consideration for his spot. Not that she could ever think to replace Lewis Hamilton or even start to fill his shoes, but an open seat at Mercedes would be an open seat at Mercedes.

Some drivers would take a seat for any team that would have them - they just want to race, and they don’t care who’s name is on the car. Bee wasn’t one of them. She only wanted to stay in the sport if she could represent Mercedes. She knew she wouldn’t be happy elsewhere. 

She had a session with Natalie after Monza. Emilia suggested it - she’d noticed that Bee was on edge after that weekend, and it had apparently been a while since she’d had a check-in with her therapist. 

“You know that your performance is as much mental as it is physical, and I know you’re not at your best right now. It couldn’t hurt, at least before we leave for Sochi.” Emilia said gently. They’d just had a training session, but Bee had almost gone overboard trying to work out her frustration. Emilia only had her stop because she was afraid of Bee injuring herself.

“Okay, you’re right.” She said, trying to catch her breath. “I’ll call her later.”

“I just… I can’t believe I fucked up like that.” Bee said to Natalie on FaceTime. “I was concentrating so hard on trying to get away from the pit as fast as possible - like, how hard is it to focus for literally three seconds? But I looked away for a fraction of a second and it was already too late.” 

“That’s tough. I know in F1 those little margins matter, but… if I remember, you got 5th in that race, right? Isn’t that still one of your best results?” 

“Actually it is my best result in Formula 1. But I’m mad because if I hadn’t lost focus, I would’ve come out in the pit in 2nd place. And my goal this season is to get on the podium. And it was Monza! If I was going to get on the podium anywhere, Monza would be ideal - and Lewis and Max crashed each other out, so it seemed perfect. I mean, I don’t know how long I have left in this sport, and I don’t want to leave without feeling like I haven’t accomplished anything.” Bee said.

“Ah, okay, that’s something. What makes you say that you haven’t accomplished anything? As far as I know, you’ve accomplished quite a lot. You’re the first woman in a long time to make points finishes, first American woman to race in F1 - I think that’s -”

Bee interrupted her. “I mean, yeah. Okay. That’s all fine and well, but if I weren’t a woman, I would be having an incredibly mediocre career so far, but because I am, everything I’ve done is groundbreaking.” She was getting annoyed. She felt a surge of frustration creeping up the back of her skull, like a series of pinpricks.

“Would you, though? I don’t think anyone other than, say, Lewis and Max was any good in their first few seasons. You even outscored your own teammate - you managed a point in your first season, and he didn’t, and he’s considered a potential world champion.” 

“I know, but the car he had to try to compete in was way worse than the one I got in my first season.”

“I still think you’re underestimating yourself. But I’m also hearing a few things here. Number one is that you don’t to be remembered just because you’re a woman, which I think is very fair, but in a sport like this, that is a significant barrier to overcome, and I think it has required a lot more than people realize. Think about it this way - do you think anybody would know who Max Verstappen is if he was a woman?” Natalie said.

“Probably not.” Bee conceded.

“Right, because he didn’t have the kind of hurdle you did to get into this sport in the first place. And you think Susie is a good racing driver, right?”

“Yeah, of course.” Bee said, like it was a foregone conclusion. “I’ve seen her lap times, her telemetry data, her onboards, she definitely knew what she was doing. If she was racing now, she’d be better than almost a quarter of the grid.”

“Right. Of course. But Bee, even she couldn’t surmount the walls you have. I grant you, she has helped you a lot in your career, so she boosted you over that wall. Plus, I think timing was more on your side than it was hers, but I’m just saying - you’ve overcome a lot of things that not everyone would be able to, and I think that’s what makes your career so far exceptional.” 

Natalie sounded absolutely solid in her conviction, to the point where Bee forgot she was her therapist for a moment.

“The season is not over yet, and you’ve come within striking distance of a podium. So, you made a mistake. Every driver has. Some people make even bigger mistakes - at least all you lost was a split-second of a pit exit. Do you remember what happened when Lewis forgot to remove that... brake… magic… thing? I don’t know what it was. But, in Baku this year? He didn’t even finish in the points. Some drivers have even made mistakes that have destroyed their entire car. A few seconds on a pit exit seems like nothing in comparison, right?” 

Bee laughed. “Now you actually sound like a sports analyst. But, okay. I get your point. You’re right. The season’s not over.”

“Is there another race you’d want to aim for the podium for? Surely Monza wasn’t -”

“Austin. The US Grand Prix. How amazing would that be? To be the first woman on an F1 podium, as an American driver, in America? I’ve always wanted to… but we didn’t race there last year, and F2 never raced there.” Bee was resolute. 

“That sounds like a good plan. It’s a home race for you, it might be easier to get a good result with a home crowd.” Natalie said, thoughtfully. “I know in other sport, home-court advantage really can swing things. I’m not sure how it affects you drivers, though.”

“I think it does make a difference, honestly.” Bee said. “I think that’s why Lewis always manages to do so well in Silverstone, truthfully. And also speaking of Austin… This was a long time ago, but do you remember me telling you about that woman, on the airplane? It was way back in 2016, I think. The one who said she was my first fan? That was on my way back from the US. I always think about that. I think that was one of the first times I realized that I was on the right track.”

“Oh, I do remember you telling me about that. You should see if you can track her down, maybe, and see if she’s going to the race. I’m sure she’d love to see you again.”

“Natalie, that’s genius.”

“What is?”

“We have a limited number of paddock passes we can give out to guests, as drivers, and I gave you one for Silverstone this year, and I’m giving some to my parents for the US GP, but I think I still have a couple to use, so if I can track her down, I can give her one.” 

“Oh, that’s a great idea. She shouldn’t be impossible to find, right? You know her first name, at least, and approximately where she lives. This isn’t a big country. But, you have to hurry.” Natalie said. 

Bee went home that night and put in her best efforts on Google trying to find the Adelle that lived in Leeds that shared that flight with her. Apparently “Adelle” was a more common forename in the UK than she’d anticipated, but she had narrowed it down to a few options, until she got lucky on LinkedIn, of all places. She recognized the woman from her profile picture, and she still had the same bright red hair. Once she had a surname, finding an address was easy. Hopefully it was still current.

When she went to the factory in Grove the next day, Bee put together a package of Williams items - two shirts, a hat, and a keychain, along with a letter and two paddock passes, two of her collectible driver cards, both signed. 

Dear Adelle,

I don’t know if you remember me, but we shared a flight together five years ago, coming back to London from the Mexican Grand Prix in 2016. I told you I was a junior driver for an F1 team, and was trying to find a feeder team and wanted to make it into F1.

If you still watch the sport, you are probably aware that I did make it. It hasn’t always been easy. Something you told me that day, on that flight, has stuck in my mind. You said that there was probably a girl out there who was good enough to make it in motorsport, but just wasn’t told enough that she could. When I was 19, I thought that was me. But since then, I’ve come to realize now that I’ve been very fortunate to have a strong group of people - mostly women, supporting me in my journey, and you, in your own small way, whether you know it or not, are among that number. But the story you told me about your daughter - it made me realize that no matter how hard this journey has been, the trouble is worth it if I can bring some visibility to the women that participate in this sport and make the sport more open and welcoming for female fans.

You mentioned, at the time, that you liked to go to the races in North America on your holidays, and I was hoping you were planning on going to the US Grand Prix this year. I have enclosed two paddock passes and two pasess to the Williams garage and hospitality area. If you happen to be there, I’d be honored to have you as my guest in the garage, and you can feel free to bring someone. I hope this makes it to you in time, and that we get to see each other. It would mean a lot to me. 

Thank you again.

Phoebe Stallard

She listed the return address as the factory and hoped the package made it safely to its destination.

There were two races to go until the United States Grand Prix; Russia, and Turkey. 

Russia was not kind to Bee. She qualified well, ending up at the top of Q2, even though the track was wet and rapidly drying. George, however, qualified third. Not Q3, actual third place. It was stunning to see, and the paddock was almost buzzing about it - Williams still wouldn’t be in the championship running for a while, but their return to form over the past 2 seasons had been impressive.

Rain started falling on the last 5 laps of the race. As soon as Bee saw the track conditions changing, she cursed out loud on the radio, forgetting it was live - she was in for a points finish, but weather conditions always had the possibility of reshuffling the deck.

Bee pitted for intermediate tyres right away, but spun out on one of the last laps and had enough damage from the resulting collision that she had to retire. She didn’t finish the race, but was still classified because she’d completed more than 90% of it. At least George had gotten himself into the points with a sixth-place finish. 

Turkey was an interesting race. Bee hadn’t ever been to Turkey, and actually would have enjoyed spending more time in the country itself. But they were getting to the point in the season calendar where grid penalties were plentiful - each car was only allowed a certain number of component swaps per season, be they for replacing power units (which consisted of the gas engine, electric motors, and an energy recovery system) elements or engines. 

Every swapped major component or engine over the allotment for the season meant that your car incurred a grid penalty, no matter what your qualifying result was. Replacing an engine over the allotment would set you back ten places on the grid, no matter what your qualifying place was. Other components could mean having to start from the back of the grid. 

Bee knew her car was about to exceed the allotment for engines, so she begged Claire to have the swap done for her car for Turkey instead of risking the penalty for the United States GP. They weren’t in contention for the championship, so it really didn’t matter where or when she got the grid penalty, but she wanted every chance to podium in Austin she could get. 

Claire agreed, and Bee took a 10-grid-place penalty in Turkey. She had managed to qualify in 10th, which means she’d made it into Q3. It was a shame to be knocked back down to 20th (or 17th, really, because of other drivers incurring penalties) but it meant that she was able to get to Q3, which was important for Austin.

It was the first race she’d ever remembered running, at least in F1, without a single retirement. George placed 7th, and she placed 10th. She wondered how things might have shaken out if she hadn’t taken a grid penalty, but it had to be done. 

Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America October 18th, 2021

Bee landed in Austin a few days ahead of when the rest of the team would be arriving, but the bulk of her extended family had flown down from the Midwest - most of them from Michigan, but she had cousins that lived in Illinois and Ohio as well. Her parents would be flying in from Stuttgart as well.

Emilia decided to come early with her - normally, they mostly traveled separately, as Emilia still primarily resided in Germany, but she wanted a little more time to prepare. This was the first of the long flyaway races, so they’d be gone on a longer trip, and she was intrigued by the United States. 

“So what is your family like? I’ve met your parents, but this is your entire extended family, right - like, grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins?” Emilia said on the flight over.

“They’re… loud. Friendly, but loud. And most of them like to talk. They’ll probably ask you a lot of questions. They’re all basically the opposite of anyone from Germany, so if you want to pretend you don’t speak English to get out of socializing, you’ll need to decide now and commit to that.”

Emilia scoffed. “I’ve met plenty of Americans. You’re American, in case you’d forgotten”

“Ah, you say that,” Bee said, trying hard to hide her smile. “but you met me after I’d been raised in Germany, and you met my parents after they’d lived and worked in Germany for over a decade. It’s not the same.” 

“This should be fun”, Bee thought.

“I will give you one piece of advice. If anyone asks ‘How are you?’, it’s more of a greeting and not an actual question. You can just give a non-specific answer, like ‘Good’, or ‘I’m fine.’ That should make things a lot easier.”

Emilia looked confused. “But… Why would they ask if they don’t want to know? Why ask a question you don’t want an answer for?” 

Bee laughed. “Like I said, it’s not an actual question. Just treat it as a greeting, and the response is ‘Good, and you?’ If you say any more than that, you might invite a conversation that might become way longer than you want it to be.”

Emilia shook her head. “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.”

Once they landed, they went to their hotel to unpack and get ready to meet Bee’s family. They were all meeting for dinner at a restaurant called Vivo. Bee’s parents had made a reservation so they could all eat outside together on the restaurant’s patio. 

It was a strange experience - Bee hadn’t seen a lot of her relatives in-person for years, aside from her grandparents - even that was three years ago now. They peppered her with questions, mostly about Drive to Survive (because they’d started watching it when it debuted, just like everyone else did, and Bee suspected that most of them still didn’t actually watch the races.)

It was a bit funny to Bee - people that were real, her coworkers, more or less, that she spent so much time with - were television characters to them, like they were being played by actors. She did her best to answer their questions, but it felt like being in a rapid-fire press conference.

“That Daniel Ricciardo seems so nice, is he like that for real?” 

“Yes. He’s exactly how he is on the show, but he’s also kind of… the class clown, I guess. Always playing pranks.”

“Do those engineer guys really talk to you through the entire race? How can you focus like that?”  

“They’re not talking constantly, and they have important information. My engineer’s name is Gaetan. He’s French.”

Emilia, meanwhile, had either ignored or had forgotten Bee’s advice, and had found herself trapped in a conversation with one of Bee’s aunts that she hadn’t necessarily meant to get herself into. Bee turned around at one point and saw the thinly-veiled expression of anguish on Emilia’s face, and decided to jump to her rescue.

“Hi, Aunt Debbie. Nice to see you again. Oh, I’m doing great! Happy to be back in the US for a few days! Yes, I’m excited you’re here for the race, too! I just came to see if Emilia had decided what she wanted to eat. Come on, let’s grab a menu.” 

“Thank you,” Emilia said, relieved, as they left Lisa to talk to one of Bee’s other aunts. “She was telling me about her gallbladder removal, in great detail.”

“See? I told you this would happen. She’s an oversharer anyway. But in all seriousness, have you looked at the menu?” Bee said, as they sat at a picnic table by themselves, heads together, poring over the listed fare.

“I don’t know what any of this is,” Emilia said, puzzled over the Spanish names for the dishes. “I’ve never had this food.”

“Okay, well, you like chicken, right? Try the fajita taco plate - that’s always pretty safe, and… ooh, beef enchiladas. That’s what I’m getting. You can try it, if you want.”

So, Emilia had her first encounter with Tex-Mex food. She loved the fajitas, (“These are so good. Why can’t we have these in Germany?” “I could make them for you, if you want, next time you’re in Oxford.” “But your cooking is…” “Okay, fair.” ) but thought Bee’s enchiladas were a bit on the spicy side. (“You eat currywurst, how is this spicy to you?” “It’s a different spicy!”)

They had some drinks (not too many for Bee, at least), which made Bee’s family a little easier to take for Emilia. After the dinner party had dispersed, Bee and Emilia stayed and talked to Bee’s parents for a while, because they were all on European time and weren’t quite ready to head back to the hotel for bed, yet.

While they were sitting and talking, they all had a few more drinks, too. Emilia had quite a few more, and ended up more tipsy than she probably would have liked to have been. She was a clingy, huggy drunk, as it turned out. It was difficult, though - Emilia was eight inches taller than Bee, and practically toppled her over as she was hanging on to Bee for support as they were waiting for their ride back to the hotel. 

She didn’t take Emilia back to her room - Bee’s room had two beds, so she poured Emilia into the extra bed and pumped her full of water and ibuprofen, just so she could keep an eye on her.

“You’re my favorite,” Emilia said, in slurred German. She was splayed across the spare bed, and had asked Bee to tuck her in. Bee thought it was silly, but was oddly charmed by it. She sat on the edge of Emilia’s bed, talking to her until she fell asleep.

“I’m so glad I get to travel with you like this, because you’re my favorite client and probably my favorite person. I love spending time with you so much.” Emilia’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, but she was smiling at Bee.

“But I’m your only client right now.” Bee said. It was true. Emilia still worked for a performance coaching company, but like most F1 drivers that used that company’s services, Bee had hired her exclusively, a necessity of her busy schedule.

“I had other clients before you hired me!” She said, “But none of them have been as nice! Or as pretty. You’re very pretty. Did you know that? You have such pretty dark hair. And your blue eyes. I noticed you and your dad have the same eyes. Is that weird that I noticed that?”

“No, it’s true, I do have his eyes.” Bee was trying not to blush. “You should go to sleep, though. We have a long week ahead, but we have some time to do a few fun things tomorrow. And we can get some real barbecue for lunch, just like you wanted.”

“Okay. Goodnight, liebes.” Emilia said, drifting off to sleep.

“Liebes?” Bee thought. 

It was a term of endearment in German - the same as calling someone “sweetheart”, “love”, or “honey”, in English. It was startling, and Bee wasn’t quite sure what to make of it, but decided to let it go - Emilia probably had no idea what she was saying.

Circuit of the Americas, Austin, Travis County, Texas, United States of America October 22nd, 2021

It was only Friday, and it had already been a long week for Bee. It had been a fun week, though. She and Emilia had explored a little bit of downtown Austin on Wednesday before Bee had any media or team obligations. Emilia had woken up only a little worse for the wear, but a barbecue lunch had fixed that. (“This is so good, and you get so much food with your order.” Bee had almost expected her to make a “this is why Americans are fat” joke like most Europeans would, but she passed on it.) 

Emilia had virtually no memory of returning to the hotel that night, and said she was surprised when she woke up in a room that wasn’t hers.

“So she doesn’t remember flirting with me, or whatever that was, I guess.” Bee thought. She was surprised at how disappointed it made her feel. It wasn’t possible that she was falling in love with her performance coach… was it?

On Wednesday, she’d filmed a few things for Williams’ social media channels, including the reveal for her special Austin GP helmet, and a challenge with George where he had to try to guess how American towns were pronounced. She also was scheduled out for a bunch of interviews and other videos with some American TV broadcasters, like ESPN - they had her and George do a basketball free throw challenge. Bee was never very good at basketball, but she did better than George did.

George had also made a special helmet for the Austin GP, that was cowboy-themed. It didn’t suit him at all, but Bee thought it was endearing. Bee’s helmet was a little more personal and didn’t have much to do with Texas at all, but she’d been planning it out forever and it was gratifying to see the final product. It was strange to see him - a buttoned-up, stereotypical posh Brit wearing a 10-gallon cowboy hat and shooting basketball free throws. 

She spotted Susie in the paddock before free practice, and was ecstatic. 

“I wasn’t actually sure if you were going to come to this race!” Bee said, giving her a hug.

“Well, surprise! I knew this was a big race for you, and I didn’t want to miss it. I didn’t get to see your first race, but I’ll get to see your first actual home race. I’m going to be in the Williams garage on Sunday, too!” 

“Oh, that’s fantastic!” Bee said. “My parents are here as well, they’ll be excited to see you. They’ll be in the paddock tomorrow.”

They chatted a bit longer, but Bee had to go to Free Practice. She really liked seeing Susie at races, but it seemed like they never got long enough to sit and talk before either one of them had to be running off to something. 

She headed over to her driver’s room, where Emilia had finished getting everything set up for the weekend and was ready to start Bee on her warmups. She had to change first, but then it was always usually the same routine - a little bit of light, in-place cardio work with resistance bands to get her heart rate up and blood moving, then some neck strength work, some reaction time work with a series of buttons that had lights that flashed in different colors on them. 

Then, Emilia always helped her with some assisted stretching, some breathing exercises, and some light massage to keep Bee relaxed and loose, if she needed it. Every driver had their own little ritual and routine, and this was simply what she found had worked for her. 

Finally, it was time for Bee’s first practice runs on the circuit. She hadn’t ever driven on it, and it looked like it was going to be a challenge. The track had a whopping 20 turns - most tracks had 10-13 of them, and ran anti-clockwise, which was the opposite direction of most tracks. Not only that, but the first corner off of the start/finish straight went up a steep hill, with a bump that could disrupt your braking, and you had to downshift very quickly into the turn. And that was all just on the first turn, never mind the rest of it. 

Plus, it was hot the morning of Free Practice 1, which would mean that Free Practice 2, in the afternoon, would be even hotter. The challenge was going to be tire management - keeping the tires cool and not letting them degrade, which would mean punctures. It was the end of October, but it was still Texas. 

Bee looked at the grandstands during her first out-lap - it was packed, already, even for a Free Practice session, which meant that the audience for qualifying and the race would be absolutely massive. The last time she was here, in Austin, they had to throw a Taylor Swift concert to entice people to come - it didn’t look like that would be necessary this year. 

Williams Racing YouTube Channel

Phoebe Stallard reveals her helmet design for the United States Grand Prix

91,307 views October 23rd, 2021

Transcript: Hi everyone! I’m Phoebe Stallard from Williams Racing, and I just want to talk about my helmet for the US Grand Prix this weekend. It’s my first US GP! I joined Formula 1 last year, but the 2020 US Grand Prix was canceled because of COVID-19. I’m the only American on the grid, other than honorary American Daniel Ricciardo. This is my home Grand Prix, and obviously, I had a special helmet made! I just wanted to talk through some of the details, because this helmet is really kind of… well, it’s deeply personal to me, and it’s probably my favorite custom design yet.

So, on the top, we have the emblem from the Dodge Super Bee, which was a classic muscle car made in the late 60’s by the Chrysler Corporation, one of the Big 3 car companies based in my home city of Detroit. It’s kind of been a… nickname for me for a long time? I think Danny Ricciardo is the one that started calling me that, and it caught on over the years with fans, and I always liked it, even if Danny started calling me that to tease me because I was so scrawny as a teenager. Plus, it’s kind of a tribute to my dad, who was the one that got me into racing in the first place. He started his career at Chrysler as an automotive engineer. I did make a subtle change to it, though, to make it a little more personal - the bee has a little ponytail coming out of her helmet.

And then on the right here, we have the iconic “Rosie the Riveter” poster from World War 2, with the classic “We Can Do It” text on the top. I always thought it was pretty inspiring, because it shows a woman doing what was traditionally considered men’s work, and racing used to be kind of considered a man’s world. On the bottom of her coveralls, I put the signatures of both Lella Lombardi and Susie Wolff, who are both women in racing that I am inspired by. 

Lella Lombardi was the first woman to ever earn a point in the Formula 1 series, and until Monza this year, she was also the only one to have a top six finish in a World Championship race. 

Susie Wolff, as most people know, was a test and development driver for Williams, and was the first woman to take part in a Grand Prix weekend in 22 years when she participated in Free Practice 1 the 2014 British Grand Prix. She’s basically been my mentor since I was in Formula Renault. She’s an inspiration for all women wanting to compete in motorsport - I literally do not think I would have made it to Formula 1 without her kind of… advice and guidance. She also founded the Dare to Be Different foundation that works to get more girls interested in motorsport, and I’m really happy to be an ambassador for the organization. I definitely would have been remiss if I didn’t put some sort of tribute to Susie on this helmet. 

On the back, we’ve got an image of the Spirit of Detroit statue. I am originally from the Detroit area, and this statue is right downtown on Woodward Avenue. It’s always kind of been an iconic symbol of Detroit, it’s a really important landmark, I’ve always really loved it. And there’s the motto of the City of Detroit on it - “Speramus Meliora” and “Resurget Cineribus”, which means “We Hope For Better Things / It Shall Rise From the Ashes”. Detroit is a tough city, but it’s a city that’s always kind of… been out to prove everyone wrong, you know? A lot of people wanted to write it off entirely a few years ago, when the auto industry went bust and the city itself had to declare bankruptcy, but it’s still there, and there’s so much going on there now, it’s great. I don’t make it home very much, but I’m always really proud to represent it.

On the left side, we have my number, number 50, on a field of red, white, and blue stars, because it’s America, right? Had to show a little patriotism for my first US GP. Plus, it matches the current Williams livery which is handy!

And then, under my visor, we have the letters J & J S, which is for my parents, John and Josephine Stallard, because they’ve always been really supportive of my racing career. My dad was the one that got me into karting, because he thought it was something we could do together - he was always my mechanic, because he’s an automotive engineer. He never really pushed me into it, he just introduced me to racing and I kind of fell in love with it on my own, but both my mom and dad were really supportive of it. 

My dad used to work for Chrysler, and we moved to Germany because of his job, but when we had the option to move back to the US, he took a job with Mercedes so we could stay in Germany because I liked karting, and it’s a lot easier to advance in Europe. So, my parents made a lot of sacrifices, living so far away from home, so we could stay in Europe so I could keep racing, so I had to put some sort of tribute to them on here, too. 

#f1 fanfic #f1 oc fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #original character #female oc #female f1 driver #toto wolff #george russell #my fanfic #series: wildest dreams #susie wolff

[dansnaturepictures]

06/01/2023-WWT Slimbridge: Part 1 of 2-Birds I saw for the first time this year today We came into Slimbridge today and had an amazing day of birdwatching with so much seen and some incredible species over some glorious hours spent at this iconic reserve today. It was one of those dream days where based on what’s usually about on this trip we often do at this time of year, what has been seen lately and which birds I needed to see for my year list I saw everything we tried to which was fantastic. Thanks must go to the friendly WWT staff and fellow birders for a few like Snipe and Scaup for useful pointers and guidance on birds and I’d like to think we gave back a bit to others of the great people we met today in return throughout the day. My bird year list ended the day on a pleasing 110 a figure I always love getting to and after it being my joint easiest date reaching 100 birds in a year with this day last year when we came here too early today it’s the earliest I’ve ever reached 110 birds in a year bringing my days off in this incredible birding week to a grand end. In this post I talk through year ticks today, and my next post talks about other key birds seen today, plants, fungi, the landscape and has my full wildlife sightings summary for today. This post is here: https://dansnaturepictures.tumblr.com/post/705739977139634176/06012023-wwt-slimbridge-part-2-of-2-other-birds

It was an honour from start to finish to see the gorgeous Bewick’s Swans, old and young with their grey feathers, getting smashing intimate views of these angelic migrants with their evocative honking calls which just shouts wild to me and their immaculate yellow and black bills and fine feathers. I felt immersed in seeing them. It was good to see them feed by flapping their feet and at the late afternoon feeding they do here see them peck at each other and Canada Goose in a bid to hold access to areas where a lot of food was. I took the second, seventh with Mallards, eighth with Tufted Duck and Coot and ninth pictures in this photoset of them. Another Slimbridge specialty we saw for the first time in 2023 here today were the enormous Common Cranes flying and still old and young. It was so lovely to see these enigmatic birds so well again, I always feel so lucky to. As bird 101 of my year it narrowly missed out on being my milestone 100th bird of the year for a second year running. Then there were Golden Plovers, a key one here that we had to work for last year that we saw soon into the visit and at various points across the day today as they frequently burst into the air with Lapwings such stunning natural sights and a joyous spectacle to behold. They created a sea of shining colour when stood which was so rich to observe and take in a true highlight today. The sixth picture I took today in this photoset of three of the Common Cranes also has Golden Plovers, Lapwings and Teal in it. 

As hoped at Willow hide as we did in early 2019 and 2020 visits here we got exquisite and breathtaking views of two gem like Water Rails. Such a pleasure to see these two in all their glory getting prolonged views, seeing them up against Woodpigeon and their larger relative Moorhen was lovely for comparison and it was interesting to see the two engage in a chase too. I took the fourth, fifth and tenth pictures in this photoset of them. Reed Buntings seen really well here and Greenfinch in the bird collection areas late on as the first picture in this photoset I took today shows were two valuable year ticks that I’d not ticked here before that I simply hadn’t seen in home areas yet this year, two it was good to get seen and it will stand out in this Slimbridge visit compared to other years.

A spine of the day for year ticks was formed by four wader ticks; Black-tailed Godwit and Snipe likewise ones we had not yet seen at home. The Snipes at a couple of points we got lovely views of and this species was my milestone 100th of the year, one I am rather fond of so I was pleased with that. I took the third picture in this photoset of the first three we saw with Lapwing. Then there were two I hoped for today that were a species we tend to see a bit later in the year for home areas and one we’re never guaranteed to see in a year at home respectively Ruff and Knot. The former always a rustic and fine feathered treat of a bird to see which I loved getting seen so early in a year unlike recent years and the fair few of the latter all lined up felt like a classy bonus bird.

At the pinnacle of it all today perhaps is that we managed to see the Scaup on the south lake thanks to help from a kind WWT person we got chatting to a few times today and another birder. This was a fantastic alluring species to get so lucky to observe, a real attention grabber at the reserve currently which it’s always great to feel involved in seeing. This cute and pretty bird is only the third of the species I’ve ever seen, a serious contender for the best bird of my week off to start the year among many special ones. And my family of the week has definitely been ducks, as I mentioned earlier in the week we quickly saw nearly every species of duck we expected at this time of year down here with crackers and great views of many and have added Common Scoter and Scaup real quality rarer species which has been great.

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