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torterracotta · 10 months

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When I heard Gerry Duggan get asked on Cerebro, white boy to white boy, about the unfortunate optics of announcing and then immediately murdering the least white team of X-Men in years, I knew we'd be in for some shit. Man, did he deliver - after some evasive waffling about how ORCHIS is meant to be fascist, and how the story's point is to put the collective back of mutantkind even more against the wall than it was any of the last six times something like this has happened.

And, honestly? That's fair! This year's Hellfire Gala is ultimately the first part of a larger story, and history shows it's not going to last forever �� hell, does anyone remember what the status quo was immediately before HoXPoX? At least this time most of the characters have implicitly just been sucked into Mother Righteous's magical Poké Ball, rather than outright killed; if anything, that's an improvement. I was fully content to just think "hey, not for me," and get back to ignoring everything beyond Immortal and Sabertooth, secure in the knowledge that certain topics are bound to be handled poorly when almost everyone in the room is white, when Duggan said three words that stopped me in my tracks:

"Keep the faith."

See, that struck me, because for a lot of us, this entire era of comics has been about nothing but faith. I've been reading X-Men, and engaging with fans since I was eight, and I've never seen the kind of collective buy-in from other marginalized readers that I have with Krakoa. X-Twitter (or, I suppose, X-X) has been Blacker, queerer, more disabled, less homogeneous than the fandom has ever been, all of us buying in to the implicit promise that this time things would be different. Sure, the line was headed by a presumably straight white guy, but there were other voices in the room for a change, and it really felt like they were going to be listened to. We thought we'd moved past clunky metaphor, past queerbaitimg and awkward racial gaffes. Storm and Kwannon were getting to do stuff, Arakko was full of amazing characters of color, Cyclops and Wolverine were probably fucking, we were hooked, and we turned out.

It's hard to overemphasize just how wild this was to see in real time. X-Men has always been allegory, sure, but it's traditionally allegory by and for the majority. For years, the readers who might really feel that resonance, those of us who have been hated and feared for the unforgivable crime of being who we are, we were afterthoughts, tolerated at best. We got scraps, "representation" from creators who seemed to be offended by the implication that we would ever want something other than being fetishized tokens. We were, as Hickman so succinctly put it, told that we were less when we knew we were more. And then, out of nowhere, Krakoa made us inescapable.

The two biggest X-Men podcasts, X-Plain the X-Men and Cerebro, are hosted by queer people. X of Words has been rocking the Black, queer experience like no one's business, Mutant Watch has been a joy to listen to and to be on. Not just podcasts, either, in everything from criticism to fanart to cosplay, voices have been elevated that were previously silent. I mean, hell, I've gotten paid to talk about comics, that shit never would have happened four years ago.

All of that was based on faith.

Faith that we were being celebrated, for once, instead of just used. Faith that for whatever growing pains there might be, things were going to be better.

And let's not fuck around here, there were growing pains. In the first year alone we dealt with everything from blatant whitewashing, to queerbaiting — any Sunspot fan can go into detail there, assuming you can get one of us to stop crying for long enough. While that was going on, we watched Bryan Edward Hill (the only non-white writer in that initial wave) put out a book that was, let's face it, at worst aggressively mid, only to be excoriated by certain portions of the fandom, and dropped by the office, while significantly worse books managed to hold fast — er, hold on. Not to say that Fallen Angels was without sin, mind you, the book was packed with enough orientalism to make Chris Claremont blush. But, at the same time, Wolverine's first year ended with him doing what he does best: trying so hard to be Japanese that I had to check to make sure he wasn't Marvel's editor in chief.

Through all of that, we kept the faith.

Things didn't really get much better, of course. Arakko was a fascinating concept, and felt like it damn near doubled Marvel's characters of color. And yeah, the ending of X-Factor was one of the most poorly handled racist messes I've seen this side of… well, any given day on Twitter. Sure, the whitewashing has never stopped, to the point where everything from X-Corp to this week's Hellfire Gala has had to be hastily edited between previews and release. Maybe we keep dealing with stuff like butchered AAVE, even more queerbaiting, Kate Pryde's funeral, the genocide of almost all of those Arraki characters, and whatever the hell was going on with Lost in Way of X. Maybe there's a very real argument to be made that there's something insidious about three straight years of voting to determine if characters like Monet (who, by the by, has been retooled from "basically Superman" to "Black woman with anger powers") deserve the honor of being written by a white man who's stayed writing with his foot in his mouth. I mean, hey! All my white friends in the scene say he's nice, just like Williams, or Howard, or any number of other crusty crackers who are still proud of tripping over the bar Claremont left on the floor in the 80's!

And dammit, we kept the faith!

Even before the issue dropped, the Fall of X has had a lot of us wary. After all, all of the promotion leading up to it has been white guys saying the minority allegory has had it too good for too long, which, whatever, press copy. We all know they've gotta sell books — they, in this case, being the almost exclusively white, almost exclusively male creative teams attached to all of the books in the line. Sure, as Duggan said, the 616 has a fascism problem, but it’s hard not to see this as a deliberate step back from the almost double digit number of non-white creators these past few years — almost as if Marvel has realized they can make space for a fourth ongoing by their favorite white boy if they just throw out a Voices special every couple of months as a containment zone for the darkies. And, hey, considering how good ol’ C.B. got his foot in the door, I can’t even fake surprise. At this point, it’s a minor miracle any time a person of color is tapped for anything that’s expected to last beyond one issue.

In this issue, as a reward for keeping the faith, we got to see something astounding, something that'd bring a tear to the eye of even the most cynical reader — a team that was only half white. My god. And sure, their brutal murder in favor of a team with Kate "Hard-Arrr" Pryde and the Kingpin(????) was only a pit-stop between the resurrection of the suddenly ashy Ms. Marvel and Lourdes Chantel being killed off for the sake of a white woman's angst yet afuckinggain, but ain't that the dream that Malcolm Ten or whoever died for?

The Krakoan era, ultimately, has been the same as every other. Empty promises by white men who show us time and again that there was never any point in expecting anything better. Any meaning we've found, everything of worth, has been what we've made for ourselves.

We've spent years keeping the faith, Gerry, while you and yours have continued to let us down. What the hell do we have to show for it?

#xspoilers #Hellfire Gala 2023 #X-Men

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 16 days

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05/09/2024 Daily OFMD recap

TLDR; Leslie Jones; David Jenkins; Taika Waititi; Samba Schutte; Vico Ortiz; Jes Tom; Police Menacing Max; Articles; WBD Q1 Earnings Call; Casey Bloys Excuse Generator; Love Notes; Daily Darby/Tonight's Taika

== Leslie Jones ==

Leslie Fucking jones will be Joining NBC's 2024 Olympics coverage!! She's gonna be Chief Super Fan Commentator! Fuck yeah Leslie!

Source: @nbcolympics Instagram

== David Jenkins ==

Some sneaky shots with Chaos Dad for Kinga's 41st birthday! Happy Birthday Kinga!

Source: Kinga Malisz's Instagram

== Samba Schutte ==

So apparently Samba has started his Thirst Trap Era -- none of us are complaining! A lot of the OFMD cast members decided to comment on these as well!

Source: Samba Schutte's Instagram

== Taika Waititi ==

In case you missed the video on Rita's IG Stories: Peepa Sighting (I don't actually know how to spell this? I see like 3 versions online-- feel free to correct me!)

== Vico Ortiz ==

Vico's been doing so much voice acting lately! They decided to drop some pics from the booth! Loving all the facial expressions!

Source: Vico Ortiz' Instagram

= Date My Abuelita, First! =

New Episode of Date My Abuelita, First! with Vico! Listen here

Source: DMAF Instagram

= Jes Tom =

Our dear Jes Tom is an honoree of Queerty's 2024 #Pride 50! Congrats Jes! Thanks @adoptourcrew for sharing this!

Source: Adopt Our Crew's Twitter / Queerty's #Pride50

== WBD End of Q1 Meeting ==

Today's Q1 Meeting was full of massive BS as you've probably seen from various sources by now. Thank you @ragsandmuffins-ali for live tweeting during the call so we could get an idea of what's going on in their heads.

Source: @ ragsandmuffins Twitter

== Max Polite Menacing ==

SO MANY OF THE CREW stepped out today and started polite menacing Max again! Excellent job everyone! Thank you @ indarltonitrust for catching the count! I saw it was close to 10K by the time I went to bed!

Source: @indarltonitrust on Twitter And man oh man, we even got the bots in on it!

Source: @ragsandmuffins-ali on Twitter Some folks really let loose!

Source: @ ofmooshd on Twitter @ Seven_Sugars not pulling the punches either.

Source @ Seven_Sugars Twitter

= Casey Bloys Excuse Generator =

Idk which one of you indestructible little fuckers on this crew created a Casey Bloys Excuse Generator -- but well done! It's fantastic, try it out below.

== Articles ==

Thank you to Adopt Our Crew, Pink News, Never Left Podcast, and everyone else who shared all these articles today! Adopt Our Crew as well as the general OFMD fandom got several shoutouts today in them!

‘Nobody cares about Gollum’: The Internet’s reaction to new ‘Lord of the Rings’ films is anything but ‘precious’

‘Don’t Stream on Max’: Why viewers are protesting Max and calling for David Zaslav to be fired

#DontStreamOnMax, #FireDavidZaslav Trend as Warner Bros. Tries to Convince Us Everything’s Going Great

Warner Bros. Discovery Misses Q1 Expectations, TV Ad Sales Down 11% as Streaming Revenue Flat

Warner Bros. Discovery Reports Wider-Than-Expected Loss as Revenue Falls Short

Warner Bros. Discovery Plans Fresh Cost Cuts, Max Price Hike

== Love Notes ==

Wow! Crew, today was nuts! I wasn't even present for most of it, but I poked my head in occasionally and saw so many people Polite and Not so Polite Menacing today! It was fantastic! I want to give a huge shout out to AdoptOurCrew for leading this charge, SaveOFMD Crew for all their support and resources, @sonnetforbonnet for guiding folks, and all the other folks who helped so many people today in menacing Max! I tell you lovelies, it felt really good to see that kind of passion and banding together today. It reminded me of earlier this year when we were all united for one common cause. I realize we can't keep that momentum up all the time, but it was so very heartwarming to see everyone working together today again.

You all are badasses and you should be proud of yourselves. You seriously stepped it up today. I heard there was some drama with some not so kind "max supporters" but if you can, please just ignore those folks. They don't know where we're coming from and they are absolutely not worth your energy if you don't have the spoons <3 I'd like to share another love note I found on Instagram today that's not completely applicable to todays events, but it spoke to me because of the last part. Be proud of yourselves lovelies. No matter what you did today, polite menacing, sleeping, massive aggression, whatever it was. You did great <3 Take care <3

Source: soulscribbleerr's Instagram

== Daily Darby / Tonight's Taika ==

Tonight's theme is being a boss and dancing, cause yall were BAMF today.

Gifs courtesy of @ fandomsmeantheworldtome and @ a-man-for-hire-and-his-archives

#ofmd daily recap #ofmd #our flag means death #taika waititi #david jenkins #samba schutte #vico ortiz #date my abuelita first podcast #save ofmd #leslie jones #jes tom

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stryshttu · 10 months

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the scriddler nation doesn't appreciate Riddler 2022 as I do so I'm here to make you love him

He's one of the best interpretations of Riddler and here is WHY.

“he's a desyassified version,” “he doesn't wear expensive suits full of question marks,” “that suit was boring” NO!!!!! IT WAS THE PERFECT SUIT FOR HIM TO START!!! He literally comes from the lowest point, and he talks about how the men in power and corruption keep the low income/poor people at the bottom. Ofc he can't afford those shiny beautiful suits because he doesn't have money for it. Also the military suit was GREAT. He paint it and designed his own symbol which is amazing, a gun sight with a "?" in the center.

Also, he fights againts corruption and classism? 😭 Why would ppl hate that? He fights for the people that were forgotten like him.

“it's not the same story of his father and blah blah blah” ok, they changed his origin story A LOT, and I can get why you get mad at it. I also get mad when I am used to the southern granny Scarecrow story and ppl change it to the story of his father experimenting of him- BUT regarding the Riddler's origin story, it is so so great. Eddie HATES LIES AS WELL, HATES CHEATING, because ppl used to tell him that he could have a better future, and gave him fake hopes. He just wanted an opportunity to be better and when that promise of renewal broke, he broke, too.

He grew wanting to please everyone, be a good boy for the nuns and the other children at the orphanage, even if he didnt agree in somethings or if it was difficult for him to act "normal" (masking his autism- we will talk about that soon), but NOBODY thanked or pleased him. As he got older, he still followed orders from his corrupt boss and the goverment. But what did they do for him? NOTHING. And when he does something for himself ppl tag him as self-centered.

He became the Riddler for the others that also needed help, not only because of him, and ppl still think he's selfish.

He's implied to be autistic (you can notice this more in the comics of Riddler: Year One by Paul Dano), he is non-verbal since kid (canon), as an adult ppl say he doesn't talk and call him weird. He doesn't know how to interact with people in a "normal" way. He also seems to vocally stim with riddles and weird silly noises that you can hear in the movie.

The catholic guilt content? PLEASEEEE. We need to take advantage of that. He even did a catholic reference riddle!!! (That one of the sins of the father)

We can also see that topic of him dont knowing if he's insane or not, (or denying being it). He knows his situation is not good, and HE TRIES to be better, listening to podcast about mindfulness and stay positive- but at the end, everything gets worse to him. He's very smart and is afraid that his biggest and greatest thing about himself (his mind) is also the worst thing and can turn againts himself because of a mental illness. We saw it in the movie when Batman calls him "sick and twisted, etc etc," and he has a mental breakdown. Yes, that scene is DEEPER than you think. His mother died in Arkham when he was in the orphanage as a kid, now imagine that the guy you always admired says to you, “you're gonna die alone at Arkham” just like his mother did and no one cared. He doesn't want that, he wants to be remembered. He doesn't want to end up like his mother- alone and mentally ill.

He makes funny jokes in the movie! He's so goofy!!!!

AND CAN WE TALK ABOUT HIM BEING A BIG BOY?!!!! CHUBBY RIDDLER SUPREMACY!!!!!

And please he has the same bad habits as Arkhamverse Riddler, you cannot hate this version of him if you love Arkham Knight Riddler. He doesn't sleep well because he plays the DETECTIVE role (YES! HE ALSO GOES THERE AND INVESTIGATES- or else how tf would he have evidence of all the corruption and know all that information?) and claims that Einstein only took naps. He doesnt eat well. His lastname is Nashton (a reminder that is canon that Arkhamverse Riddler had the same lastname before changing it to Nygma). And in this page called "nigma. org" is well known and ppl call him a genius, which suggests that we will soon see how he calls himself E. Nygma.

And yes, he is also a little bastard insufferable, and if you dont think so, then I guess we didnt watch the same movie.

THERE'S SO MUCH MORE OF HIM BEING ONE OF THE BEST ONES!!! but i'll end it up here, thank you for your attention.

#sorry if theres bad English i wrote this at night #anyways Riddler 2022 my beloved #no one understands him as i do #riddler #edward nygma #paul dano riddler #riddler 2022 #Reevesverse #scriddler #PLEASE SCRIDDLER NATION OPEN YOUR EYEEEEEEESSSSSSS #steph talks :)

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maniculum · 8 months

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Pinned Post, or, What Is This Blog Exactly?

Given the recent influx of new followers, I figure I had better make us a pinned post so people know who we are and what we're doing. Because, as much as I enjoy just posting whatever, this is a podcast account and people should know that. Especially if they like weird medieval stuff, as that is our whole deal.

The Maniculum, available wherever you normally get your podcasts, is a show where we read medieval literature, make jokes about it, and then suggest ways to adapt it into TTRPG material (or other forms of storytelling). We try to pick especially strange medieval texts, most of which you would be unlikely to come across in your typical medieval-lit survey course, though we have done a few well-known ones (most notably our series on Egil’s Saga).

It’s hosted by Zoe and Mac. (This is Mac typing now; I do most of the Tumblr posting. Zoe sometimes posts as @meanderingmedievalist.) Both of us are medievalists with like degrees and stuff, so we at least kind of know what we’re talking about when we discuss medieval literature. Mac is in grad school, most of the way through a PhD. Zoe finished her MA a few years ago and got a job working on video games – she did narrative design on Pentiment, if you’re familiar with it.

The general structure of the podcast is that one of us (we take turns) chooses a text and reads / paraphrases / summarizes it for the other, who responds to it with comments & questions & jokes & digressive tangents. Then we close with a series of segments where we pull interesting features, ideas, etc. from the text for potential use in your TTRPG / storytelling projects.

If you want to check out the show but don’t want to start at the beginning where you have to listen to us figure out what we’re doing (the audio on the first handful of episodes is a bit rough, for instance), here are some suggestions:

Our 2022 Halloween special (link here), where we read a selection of medieval stories about undead creatures.

An episode (link here) about the dragon Fafnir and the famous slaying thereof.

The Story of King Constant (link here), a fairly short and obscure tale from medieval France. (The episode is still a normal length; the story is short enough that the full text fits comfortably into a single episode with no summarizing needed.) I include this one because I feel it’s a good self-contained representation of what we do.

The first episode (link here) of our two-parter on the Peasants’ Revolt, released to commemorate May Day 2023.

Lanval (link here), one of the most widely known stories by Marie de France. This is also good as a self-contained episode, and it's a story that may be familiar to you already.

And if you want to jump into a series:

The first episode (link here) of our seven-part series on the highly-regarded Icelandic text Egil’s Saga, about a Viking warrior-poet who is also kind of a dick.

The first episode (link here) of our ten-part series on Perlesvaus – our longest series on a single text so far, wherein we work through what might be the weirdest Arthurian romance out there.

If this just popped up on your dash, sorry for the long self-promotional post. Hope you come check us out. New episodes every other week.

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jo-harrington · 1 month

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Pinprick (A Gutterballs Story)

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Jo!Reader

Summary: You're sitting down to listen to one of your favorite podcasts when you hear your name as one of a long line of Eddie's loves, and you have a moment of reflection.

Note: This is a very very very late post in dedication to one of my fandom loves @dr-aculaaa (who is very much on hiatus but still deserves all of the love us resident weirdos have to give) and not only one of my favorite fics Sunday Morning but the offshoot she made for Valentine's Day: Gutterballs.

IT STARTS OUT SWEET BUT ITS A LITTLE ANGSTY AT THE END. SORRY DRAC. WE SORT OF TALKED ABOUT THIS. THE TIMELINE.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

---

You're sitting on the floor.

To be completely honest, you shouldn't be on the floor. You knew that, your doctor knew that, your team knew that. In fact, they yelled at you when you got down there, legs akimbo in a way that was comfortable for you to sit in but uncomfortable for them to look at, so you could start ripping the sleeves off of this fucking jacket.

You're alone in the studio now, hours after everyone left.

It's just you, a bottle of Tums, your favorite fucking jacket, and the dulcet tones of the man who gave it to you coming from your phone.

“Welcome back to another episode of Gutterballs! My name is Eddie Munson..."

As if he had to introduce himself.

"Nerd," you scoffed fondly.

It's your Wednesday night ritual. Well, not the jacket or the floor or the tums...Gutterballs. At the least, you owed it to your former client; at the most, you owed it to your ex.

And Eddie Munson was both of those things.

Although "ex" is a relative term.

An ex wouldn't still send you a gift basket full of goodies every award season when you barely took care of yourself, the way Eddie did for you.

An ex wouldn't shoot an email with wardrobe recommendations when they hear about some charity concert or something, like you did for Eddie and Corroded Coffin.

Still telling me what to wear Jo?

He would email back almost immediately.

Doesn't seem like anyone else is. I saw you at Lolla Ed. Not cute.

Would be your response.

You don't think I'm cute anymore?

That would go unanswered though.

Until next time.

Because you were exes.

But an ex didn't keep the jacket their ex got them because it was their favorite. Exes didn't take apart said favorite jacket because it got a rip in the sleeve, and then plan to just cut two new sleeves for it. Nor did they spend the last 20-ish years mending the jacket that their ex-slash-former-client got them as an apology for a spontaneous kiss before a red carpet.

---

The CFCA awards ceremony wasn't the band's usual haunt but they had composing credits for a film score that was up for nomination. It was a big deal. Something that would take them to a new caliber of their career; not just rowdy rockstars, but well-rounded musicians.

So of course, they were running late.

Their suits all needed a bit of alteration, Eddie was chattering nervously as you hemmed his pants, Gareth drummed a beat on his leg with two of the hangers from your roll rack and Phil, the band's manager, yelling for you all to get a move on.

"Do you want them to look good or not!" You yelled right back. "I'm not having them go up for their award looking like shit Phil!"

"Yeah remember the Grammy's," Jeff pointed out. "That's why you got us a stylist in the first place."

"You'd have thought you paid them to be here or something," Phil grumbled at you from across the room.

"I do pay," you shot up at Eddie with a conspiratorial smile. "With my sanity."

This was your schtick. He let you dress him in whatever dark-romantic victorian-gothic-inspired outfits your former-Catholic heart could dream up, and in return you let him be the spieling midwestern boy that he really wasn't allowed to be anywhere else. Because yeah the band was in charge here really--they were the talent, the money--but Eddie didn't like the whole pomp and circumstance of celebrity. Not anymore, according to him at least.

"The drugs are fun until they're not," he told you once. "We're just...guys from Indiana."

So you'd let them be that in the safety of your studio, shithead manager be damned.

You severed the thread with a swift bite of your teeth and wished the guys good luck with hugs before sending them on their way.

But Eddie...Eddie chose that moment to kiss you.

Well, you kissed each other.

As everyone walked out of the studio to get down to the car, you kissed each other.

And you froze.

Both of you.

Because it was a romantic, world-ending kiss. A kiss of declaration. A kiss of familiarity. The kiss you gave someone when you loved them for a long time and didn't know how to tell them.

Only...you hadn't loved each other for a long time.

Had you?

Hadn't said anything of the sort at least.

That wasn't love...was it?

He left for the awards ceremony and you absolutely spiraled questioning it all. You thought about all the long walks down State Street discussing ideas for this event and that one. The way he got you a membership to the Art Institute so you could sit in front of Salome and Hercules for hours and be inspired. The nights that he just couldn't work on lyrics anymore, so he would come over to sit in absolute silence save for the droning sound of your sewing machine.

The aches of the world were just a little bit easier when you could be near each other, whether it was being inspired or talking shit or sinking further into oblivion.

Was that love?

Eddie must have spiraled too. Because he showed up at your studio past midnight, disheveled and with a green Marshall Field's bag in his hand. A bag containing, you'd find out later, a black wool and leather coat that sat in a window that you'd noted looked nice months ago. One he made the guys make a special stop for before the award ceremony so he could get you to make up for fucking up your professional relationship.

The apologies were stuck on the tips of your tongues though.

And there was a beat before some silent decision was made.

And your lips came back together again, solidifying that decision, even though the words weren't said.

---

“Today on Gutterballs,” Mrs. H’s announces on the phone, breaking you from your reflection, “our lovely listeners at home are in for a real treat. As we record and discuss topics such as first loves, lost loves, and, as you can see, from our current location -body modifications."

“First we have… A spool and thread for Jo."

"She used to poke my ankles like a voodoo doll when she hemmed my pants. I still have the scars, if you wanna check ‘em out. I think that was her way of saying I love you."

Yeah that was the way it was with the two of you.

All the ways you said I love you without the words being said.

And they would never be said.

But that was another story.

"Yeah," you agree with Mrs. H belatedly, seam ripper making quick work of a line of stitches. "Lost love sounds better than ex."

#eddie munson x reader #gutterballs #drac <3

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dreaming-about-fanfictions · 2 years

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hope. ~ morpheus x reader

summary: you don't expect to run into the lord of dreams in the middle of a rainstorm - and neither of you expect to fall for each other so quickly. II fluff & a little angst

requested: yes

a/n: my first morpheus fic, i hope you'll like it words: 4.1k warnings: none except that the readers name is "hope" in this story

I am a dire wolf. Prey-stalking, lethal hunter.

Hope could never be confined to a single being, a single existence. It was too vast of a concept, too abstract for mortals, too powerful for the ethereal – even for the Endless. And so it broke and its million fragments spread across universes, across worlds, and finally rested inside specimens of every creation.

In the Waking World, Hope – or rather the embodiment of it – had travelled on from one person to another for as long as the human race existed. When Death came to reap that human, a new baby was born with a smile so bright it could break down the highest walls and the most bitter hearts. And it just so happened that this time around, Hope found its place inside of you.

I am a hunter. Horse-mounted, wolf-stabbing.

You met him in the middle of the night – but not in the Dreaming. You were taking a walk, trying to calm yourself after a break up so monumental, you weren’t quite sure yet how you would ever recover from it. It was raining and you didn’t have an umbrella with you but frankly you didn’t care. You walked the streets with your head down, tears streaming down your face, hot and devastating. Music blasted in your eyes, the same music you had already listened to when that boy whose name you didn’t even remember stood you up in middle school. Well, some things stayed the same.

You didn’t hear and didn’t see him. You felt him instead when you ran face first into his chest.

“Shit!”, you cursed as you stumbled back, earplugs flying out of your ears, pulling your phone down with them. It crashed down onto the wet stones. You bent down and reached for them but someone was faster. When you lifted your head, his eyes met yours and for a second, time stopped.

You had never seen such eyes. They looked like you imagined the night sky would look without the pollution and light from the cities. Like an ocean after a storm, like a forgotten lake in a fairytale.

“Hope.”

I am a serpent. Horse-biting, poison-toothed.

His voice was deep and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Then you blinked. You stood up straight, hesitant, unsure if you should get more distance between yourself and him. “How do you know my name?”, you asked. He was a stranger to you, you were certain of that. You would have remembered a man like him – with his black coat and the dark hair, looking at you as if he could stare right into your soul.

He ignored your question. “You are not meant to cry.” And then something else happened – he raised his hand, crossed the distance between you two and … wiped away a tear with his thumb.

And to your surprise it didn’t scare you. Maybe your ex had just fucked so brutally with your head that you considered it okay to be touched in the face by a stranger who stood on a dimly lit street in the rain with no umbrella. But his touch felt … soothing. Like you could trust him. His fingers lingered on your cheek for another moment and suddenly you felt tired. You wanted to rest your head in his hand and close your eyes and … he lowered his arm and the feeling vanished.

What. The. Hell.

Now you definitely took a step back … and another one … and a another one. And before you knew it, you were running in full-speed in the opposite direction. You had listened to too many True Crime Podcasts to be able to stop and talk to a good-looking stranger in the middle of the night during a storm.

At home, you fell asleep as soon as your head touched the pillow. Normally, your nights were almost always dreamless but this time you found yourself in your favorite bookshop. It was empty. Well, almost empty. At the end of the room, leaning against a shelf, looking right at you, stood the stranger.

I am a bird of prey. Snake-devouring, talons-ripping.

The next day was hectic. So hectic that you almost forgot the dream, the stranger and most importantly: the break-up. It was only after you left the hospital and headed to your favorite café for a much needed break when you remembered all of it. Mainly because the café was right in front of the very same bookshop you dreamed of. You felt the familiar sting in your eyes. Tears were near – and all because your ex-boyfriend decided to sleep with his colleague. Asshole.

“May I sit here?” The voice was so familiar, you flinched.

There he was – standing right next to the table, in his long black coat as the autumn sun shone down on him.

“Are you stalking me?”

“Stalking?” He tilted his head, just a little. “I came to return something of yours.” He removed his hand from his pocket and carefully put your phone on the table. Your phone! You had almost forgotten about it.

“Thank you”, you mumbled.

The man remained quiet. He simply stood in front of the table as if he was still waiting for your answer. It was probably a bad idea to invite him to sit with you but … but it was the middle of the afternoon and lots of people were around you. He couldn’t murder you here, right?

God, these podcasts were really starting to get to you.

“Sit, please”, you finally said and he did just that. “How did you find me here? Do I know you?”

“I don’t believe we had the pleasure of meeting in this lifetime.” His voice was low, just like last night. And just like last night, it send shivers down your spine.

Still, you frowned at his words. “In this lifetime? Who talks like that? Isn’t it still a bit early to be drunk?”

A smile tugged on his lips and god, was he beautiful. Yesterday, you barely had the time to take all of him in but now he sat in front of you and you couldn’t keep your eyes off him. You didn’t quite comprehend what it was – there was something about him. It wasn’t his lean body, the perfect face or the messy hair that practically screamed at you to run your fingers through it. It was his aura. The way he carried himself, sat in front of you as if you were the one having an audience with a royal instead of him disturbing you during your break.

“Who made you cry?”, he asked, breaking the silence.

“How do you know it’s a who?”

“Mortals rarely cry like you did unless someone hurt them. Who dared to hurt you?”

Dared. The frown on your face got replaced by a lifted eyebrow. “You talk like you’re from a video game or something.”

No reply.

You sighed. “My boyfriend was the reason. Well, ex-boyfriend.” You paused. “He cheated on me.”

“I’m sorry.” Two simple words but for some reason you knew deep inside of you that he truly meant them. “You must have strong feelings for him.”

“I …” What was there to say? That for the first time you believed you actually had a future with a man? It was pathetic. There it was again – the sting in your eyes, the numb feeling in your stomach. You blinked, chasing away the oncoming tears. Not now, you thought. Later, in bed, maybe in a nightmare where no one could see you. “You didn’t answer my question. How did you know where to find me?”

The man leaned back, watching you. You could swear that in this light, the blue of his eyes seemed even more intense. “From your dreams.” He nodded towards the other side of the street where the small bookshop was.

You shifted in your chair. What? This didn’t make any sense. He didn’t make any sense. “Who are you?”

Now it was him who hesitated. “Morpheus,” he said then as if he was unsure of what his name truly was. “Call me Morpheus.”

I am a butcher bacterium. Warm-life destroying.

On that day, Morpheus sat with you for almost an hour. He seemed interested in you, asking you all sorts of questions about your life while dodging all those you directed at him. He seemed to be fascinated by the fact that you worked as a therapist, wanted to hear all about your reasonings for why you chose this job.

“I don’t know”, you had said and shrugged. “I guess, I always liked helping people with their problems. Showing them ways, reasons, to go on.”

He had mumbled something along the lines of this making perfect sense for this century. Ironically, nothing he said made any sense. Nothing helped you understand him more … and yet you didn’t mind.

You kept meeting in that café after work. Almost every day for weeks, you sat together and talked. Well, mostly you talked. He was more of a listener. He watched you, the spark of curiosity never leaving his eyes. Soon, you started to look forward to these meetings. Even sooner, your ex-boyfriend was forgotten. Instead you kept thinking about a certain man with the bluest eyes and the most gorgeous smile – even though he seldom showed it. In fact, you thought about him so much that he even started appearing in your dreams more and more.

You were falling for him, you realized one morning when you woke up, your heart still fluttering. You were falling for someone and still practically knew nothing about him.

I am a world. Space-floating, life-nurturing.

The leaves on the trees had changed colors and fallen to the ground. The nights grew longer, the days shorter, the temperature dropped and soon snow began to fall while the people put up their fairy lights and Christmas decorations.

After your meeting, Morpheus had offered to bring you home. This was a first. Together, you walked through the snow in comfortable silence and while you wore a warm scarf wrapped around your neck and gloves to protect your skin from the freezing cold, he seemed perfectly comfortable in the same coat he always wore. The snow landing softly on his shoulders stood in sharp contrast to the black fabric. You watched him from the corner of your eyes and saw how snowflakes tangled in his hair. Suddenly, you had to resist the urge to lift your hand and reach for his hair, for the snowflakes within it.

“What is on your mind, Hope?”

You still weren’t used to how your name rolled off his tongue.

You cleared your throat. “Nothing.”

He smiled – softly, barely visible, the way he always smiled as if he was scared to do so. “You are a terrible liar.”

Heat rushes to your cheeks and you quickly avert your gaze. For the past two weeks you had been meaning to ask him out. Not on another coffee date but a real date. But then again, does someone like Morpheus even go on dates? And shouldn’t you at least get to know his last name before you asked him?

“Tell me”, he said and this time, it sounded more like a demand. A lightly amused demand.

You stopped dead in your tracks at his words. He turned to you, curious again. Curious like he always was when it came to you. Now or never.

“Hope?” The demand was gone, left was a question.

“It’s not necessarily something I want to say”, you begin and take a step towards him. You raised your head to still be able to look him in the eyes. The two of you had never been this close to one another. It was electrifying. The feeling you always had in his presence began to creep up. Something about him felt … ancient. Terrifying. And yet, it didn’t stop you.

Morpheus watched you, every twitch of your muscles, every change in your expression, unmoving, hands still buried in his pockets. Now or never. You had to. Before he was able to say anything, you leaned forward ever so slight and … pressed your lips to his.

His lips were soft, just like you had imagined. They were soft and warm and after a second, they began to move against yours. Careful at first, cautious, a little bit confused, but with every passing second the kiss changed and suddenly you felt his hands on your hips. They burned through the fabric of your coat as he pulled you close against his own body. Electricity shot through your veins, through every cell of your being. Forgotten was the cold, the nervousness. You drowned in his kiss, in the way his lips claimed yours, demanding, wanting, needing.

When he let go of you, an eternity could have passed and you wouldn’t have noticed. Out of breath you stared at each other, his eyes an even darker shade of blue.

“I …”, he began but stopped. Morpheus was speechless? Well, that was another first today.

“Sorry, I had to do this first. Before I ask you on a date, y’know.” The words came out quickly.

“Date”, he repeated and blinked as if he had to process that word first. Your stomach plummeted to your feet. Shit. Did he not want to? After that kiss?

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, obviously, I just … we’ve seen each other so much lately I thought … I don’t know …”

He watched you stumble over your own words but this time there was no smile tugging on the corners of his lips. He was serious. More serious than usual. This couldn’t mean anything good, could it?

“Hope, there is something you need to know.”

I am a nova. All-exploding, planet-cremating.

You didn’t believe him at first. You were convinced, he was making fun of you but when the smile never came that would have told you it was all a joke, you believed that simply managed to fall for a mad man. Not a word Morpheus said made sense until he turned up in your dreams again and told you the same story. And then you woke up and he stood sat in the chair across the room.

Truth be told, you almost called the cops.

But after that, something changed. You eventually did believe him. He slowly began to talk. Dream was apparently one of his other names. Dream of the Endless. King of Dreams and Nightmares. God, this sounded insane. Yet he showed you it wasn’t. He took you to the Dreaming and showed you his palace. And in the Waking World, he even introduced you to Matthew – a crow. A talking crow.

And here you thought, you had simply met a nice men after the terrible end of the relationship. But no, you had to meet a god instead. Or something more than a god as he liked to remind you.

It took you a few weeks to adjust to this world. Morpheus gave you the space you needed and you were thankful for that. And then, finally, you grew closer again. But no kiss was shared, no date happened. Obviously – you didn’t think that a King even dated. And honestly, you were a little too intimated to ask again.

Something that never left your mind however, was why someone like him was interested in someone like you. A human. Not even a very special one, just a normal one. You asked him that once and he replied with one of his beautiful smiles and left you none the wiser.

I am a universe. All things encompassing, all life embracing.

Once every thousand years, Morpheus would meet someone who fundamentally made him … feel. Contrary to popular belief, he cared deeply about humanity and held a great interest in them. But sometimes he’d meet a human that especially sparked his interest.

Lucienne had once asked him how he chose those humans. He had been short of an answer. If he could truly choose them, would he have chosen a random crying woman who bumped into him on a street? Probably not.

Yes, he admitted that you weren’t just any random woman. You were the embodiment of hope and at first he simply wanted to see what hope would manifest as in these times. But something about you kept forcing him to come back to you. In the Dreaming, in the Waking World. He wanted to be around you. Maybe it was the fragment of hope sewn into your soul, Morpheus didn’t know. But when you mumbled to yourself in one of your dreams that you started to fall, he began to tumble. And when you pressed your lips to his, he fell too. Hard.

It annoyed him when you didn’t believe him at first but he had learned from previous mistakes and gave you time and space. Yet, every night when you visited him in the Dreaming it physically hurt him not to be able to pull you into his arms.

You did not understand why Morpheus chose to be around you. Why he found such interest in your mundane life. Morpheus was once again short of an answer when you asked that very question one night.

“You’re not much of a talker, are you, Dream Lord?”, you asked him when he remained silent.

Both you were resting against a blossoming apple tree in Fiddler’s Green. You had turned his face to him and were so close that he could smell you. It was intoxicating. Morpheus smiled at you. Something he had done a lot more often in recent times.

“I have another question”, you continued.

“Anything”, Morpheus replied and also turned his head. Only inches separated his lips from yours.

You swallowed and Morpheus wondered if you felt the same in this very moment. Then you began to speak again. “When we met … you said I wasn’t meant to cry. What did you mean by that?”

His eyes travelled up from your lips to your eyes. He was certain he had never seen a mortal with such beautiful eyes before.

He had hoped that you had forgotten this moment already. You weren’t meant to cry. Hope didn’t cry. Couldn’t. But you weren’t just hope as hope was just a fragment within you. It took him a while to answer, to find the right words.

In the end, he didn’t tell you what you were. It was not meant for you to know. But to him, it still felt like a lie. And while the King of Nightmares, in his thousands of years of existence, was no stranger to lies, he hated the feeling that began to form in his stomach while his mouth formed words that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

I am anti-life. The beast of judgement. The dark at the end of everything.

“Hope.”

He didn’t raise his voice but it still overpowered the traffic noise and rang deep inside of you. Morpheus stood a few feet apart on the sidewalk. It was late and cold and the snow fell down on you relentlessly. You needed to get home, to prepare for a New Year’s Eve dinner with your friends. You didn’t have time for him – and you were still too mad.

“You stood me up.” Your voice cut through the silence between you, colder than the wind pressing against your own coat. Something flickered in his eyes. Hurt? He came closer, slowly.

“For a whole week you stood me up. In the Dreaming, in our café.” Our café. As if you could share anything with one of the Endless.

“Do you not believe that I have more responsibilities than drinking … coffee with you?”

Outch. You lowered your gaze not wanting to show him that his words hurt. Of course he had other responsibilities. You were confused as to why he kept you around so long anyways. “You could have told me, y’know”, you mumbled, unsure if he heard you. “I understand if you’re finally tired of me but … a word would have been nice.”

He stopped, directly in front of you. “Tired of you?”, he asked, his voice soft.

You nodded.

“That is so far from the truth”, he continued. “I don’t think I will ever grow weary of you.”

His words made you look up and when you met his gaze, you drew in a sharp breath of air. He was close, so close, there was only him left in this world. The night sky looked down on you, a mere mortal, with more love and affection than this universe held. It took you by surprise and with so much force that your knees weakened.

“Then why didn’t you come?”, you whispered.

He leaned in. “Because I am no longer able to be around you without … without doing this.”

His lips on your yours were merely a brush, a fleeting moment of worlds colliding. The Dreaming and the Waking. Nightmares and Hope. When you parted, his eyes darkened. You reached for his collar and pulled him down again, desperate to taste more.

Weeks had passed since that very first kiss. Weeks in which you weren’t sure of Morpheus intentions. Of his thoughts. You thought you had overstepped as he gave no sign that your advances were wanted. All these thoughts died the moment, he wrapped his arms around and pulled you close.

Forgotten was the cold, the snow, the dinner, the doubt.

I …

You laughed when Matthew finished his joke. It was loud and free, head thrown back, and Lucienne and the raven joined in your laughter. The three of you sat in the library of the Dream Lords palace, flicking through books, sharing anecdotes and stories. After your second kiss, Morpheus began to introduce you to more and more of his palace staff and you enjoyed being around them when he was called to work.

“We have a visitor”, Lucienne suddenly changed the topic.

“It seems our boss has returned”, Matthew cawed and pointed with his beak towards the end of the hall. Morpheus stood there, seemingly ingulfed reading the backs of books, but you could tell he had listened in on your conversation. The smile betrayed him. A warm feeling spread inside of you.

“He changed, don’t you – caw – think, Lucienne?”, Matthew asked the librarian. “I don’t think I’ve seen him smile so much.”

The three of you watched the King of this realm tilting his head into your direction. “Well, I always hoped this would eventually happen”, Lucienne admitted. “Hoped …” Her gaze traveled to you.

You shrugged. “How fitting that my name is Hope.”

“Yes, how fitting.”

I am …

“Do you hate me now?”, your question was filled with so much fear, it pained the Dream Lord. You knew of Nada, knew what happened the last time someone rejected him. But what pained him even more was that you believed he could ever hurt you.

You sat across from him in your small apartment on your even smaller couch, legs pulled up against your chest as you nervously watched him.

“Never”, he whispered, eyes fixated on the ticking clock on the wall. “I simply do not understand.”

You didn’t either. When Morpheus came tonight, he had offered you everything. A realm, a king, every dream come true. And still, you said no. You couldn’t leave this world, your family, your friends, your patients. No matter how great the love for him was, no matter how devastating the decision felt, you knew you weren’t meant for this. It wasn’t your purpose.

“I am so sorry, Morpheus …”

His hand twitched when you whispered his name.

“I wish I could but-”

“You can.” The clock ticked on and Morpheus followed the movement of its hands. “I am offering you everything.”

“And I have to decline.” It hurt. It hurt so much. “I can not, Morpheus. I … please, understand. I can’t leave.”

He understood. He knew this day would come. You weren’t a normal human being. Like him, you had a purpose and responsibilities and it didn’t matter if you knew about them or not.

You leaned forward, onto your knees and reached for his hand. You rested your forehead against his head, felt him lean into you, and the fear faded that he would take this rejection badly. In your heart, you didn’t believe he would ever hurt you. But he was an Endless and you didn’t understand them yet. You probably never would.

Morpheus closed his eyes as he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you onto his lap.

“We’ll still have a lifetime together. Here and in the Dreaming”, you offered weakly.

“As if that could ever be enough.”

… hope.

thank you for reading <3 if you want to be tagged in future stories, feel free to send me a message!

#dream x reader #morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #the sandman fanfiction #the sandman x reader

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historicallyaccuratecheese · 5 months

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I’m now halfway through The Magnus Archives’ 1st season, so I thought it would be cool to just post my thoughts on each episode so far :). (Spoilers, I like all of them, and this podcast is going to be all I care about for a while.) Also NO SPOILERS PLEASE!!!

Link to Masterpost (contains all of these thought posts)

- Episode 1, Anglerfish 🚬

Statement of Nathan Watts, regarding an encounter on Old Fishmarket Close, Edinburgh.

Really strong start, not the scariest episode so far but definitely unnerving, and it gives a good first impression and layer of intrigue. While the story is simple in comparison to the later ones, it was still enjoyable, and I was just appreciating the atmosphere and framing device of the episode as well.

- Episode 2, Do Not Open ⚰️

Statement of Joshua Gillespie, regarding his time in the possession of an apparently empty wooden casket.

This is still one of my favorites. The whole time I was on edge, and this was the first episode that really kept me up at night. I went from wanting to know what was inside the coffin desperately, to wanting to stay away from it as much as possible. Joshua’s insuring dread and creative solution to his problems was fantastic, and it ends with some intriguing plot threads being set up.

- Episode 3, Across The Street 📓

Statement of Amy Patel, regarding the alleged disappearance of her acquaintance Graham Folger.

I think I share a common sentiment when I say that Amy stalking Graham was almost as creepy as the actual horror lmao. Overall I don’t have that much to say about this one, but it was very enjoyable, and I feel really bad for Graham in retrospect :(.

- Episode 4, Pageturner 📕

Statement of Dominic Swain, regarding a book briefly in his possession in the winter of 2012.

I…feel like I should hold off on talking about this one for now. While it was definitely well written and creepy, it just seems to be so full of setup for future plot lines that I almost don’t feel like I can form a concise opinion on it until I really get what’s going on. Honestly, my only complaint with this episode is that maybe it’s setting up TOO much in one go, but I still had a good time with it overall.

- Episode 5, Thrown Away 🗑️

Statement of Kieran Woodward, regarding items recovered from the refuse of 93 Lancaster Road, Walthamstowe.

This one actually did a pretty good job at getting me to think about waste disposal workers lmao, I never really thought about them like that before. This one was just really creepy, but also kind of fun in a weird twisted way. It did a great job keeping me on edge as well.

- Episode 6, Squirm 🪱

Statement of Timothy Hodge, regarding his sexual encounter with Harriet Lee and her subsequent death.

I am simultaneously horrified, and unfortunately aroused by what happened here.

- Episode 7, The Piper 🔫

Statement of Staff Sgt. Clarence Berry, regarding his time serving with Wilfred Owen in the Great War.

Having an episode set nearly 100 years ago is a really fun idea, and it’s executed perfectly here. It was interesting how it also featured a real person, and I liked how the paranormal activity felt more metaphorical here, it really did feel like it was showcasing the horror of war.

- Episode 8, Burned Out 🌳

Statement of Ivo Lensik, regarding his experiences during the construction of a house on Hill Top Road, Oxford.

I found this one to be very nerve-wracking, since not only was the whole scenario with the tree just, like…three creepy things happening at once, but the fact that the statement was given by someone with schizophrenia did a good job making me question it’s validity, even though I’m certain it’s true after listening to a later statement. I also hope that I get to see how the history of the house is unveiled in the future.

- Episode 9, A Father’s Love 💡

Statement of Julia Montauk, regarding the actions and motivations of her father, the serial killer Robert Montauk.

This one made me feel really sad :(. I really felt Julia’s despair in this one (Jonathan Sims does such great voice acting for every statement btw, both the character and the actual person), and I was even more saddened by the implications of why Robert did what he did. If my assumptions are correct, then…SCREW THE MOTHER! It was also the first one that got me thinking about where exactly all of the paranormal stuff comes from, and later episodes only add to my theory that it’s all due to demons/cults/higher powers.

- Episode 10, Vampire Killer 🧛🏻

Statement of Trevor Herbert, regarding his life as a self-proclaimed vampire hunter.

Much like Episode 8, this one did a really good job at making me question the validity of the statement, although I became more sure of its truth a bit earlier. I also just love how nonchalant Trevor comes off as, compared to all of the other traumatized horror victims. (Also, I’m guessing that the name Trevor and the episode title are meant to be a Castlevania reference?) While vampires aren’t the most creative thing for an episode, at least in comparison to everything else, the beast-like execution here more than made up for it in my opinion.

- Episode 11, Dreamer 💭

Statement of Antonio Blake, regarding his recent dreams about Gertrude Robinson, previous Head Archivist of the Magnus Institute.

Yeah…Gertrude Robinson did not die a normal death. My guess is that she was caught by ✨the horrors✨, but I’ll wait and see. This was another very tense episode, with the prophetic dream world being really, REALLY creepy. I do hope we get to see more of “Antonio” in the future, as I think he could be quite important. (I also hope he gets punched for DUMPING GRAHAM IN HIS TIME OF NEED-)

- Episode 12, First Aid 🏥

Statement of Lesere Saraki, regarding a recent night-shift at St. Thomas Hospital, London.

OMG GERARD KEAY HI HI HI HI HOW ARE YOU!!! Yeah I audibly gasped when he showed up again, it was such a cool moment. Anyways, hospitals already creep me the fuck out so this was pretty effective. Definitely some great setup here, and it helped to make a bit more sense of Pageturner, now that I have a better idea of what Gerard’s whole deal is. It also added some good fuel to the whole cult idea, and my god this poor nurse. Having to deal with all of this in a single night sounds like hell.

- Episode 13, Alone 🌫️

Statement of Naomi Herne, regarding the events following the funeral of her fiancé, Evan Lukas. Statement taken direct from subject.

Having a new voice in this episode was really cool, and Katie Davison did an excellent job as Naomi! It was also cool to see how Jon interacts with other people, he was…nicer than expected. This episode honestly felt like it was calling me out, as I am also someone who’s confident in my independence, but if I was in Naomi’s place I would also probably be scared shitless. I really hope she’ll get a happy ending :(. Also, The Lukas family is quite intriguing, especially since we now know they have a connection to The Institute…

- Episode 14, Piecemeal 👆

Statement of Lee Rentoul, regarding the murder of his associate Paul Noriega.

Firstly, this is probably my favorite of Jon’s vocal deliveries. His performance of Lee Rentoul just feels perfect. (Once again, this applies to both the writer and the character, I’m genuinely convinced the latter is an ex-theatre kid.) Outside of that, THIS ONE CREEPED ME OUT. The body horror was very effective, with the only thing holding it back being the fact that Lee isn’t the most likable protagonist in the podcast, but if this happened to someone else I’d be even more upset. Still though, it was a very creative concept, and the whole vibe and execution of the episode made it great.

- Episode 15, Lost Johns’ Cave 🕯️

Statement of Laura Popham, regarding her experience exploring the Three Counties System of caves with her sister Alena Sanderson.

What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fuck. What the fu-

- Episode 16, Arachnophobia 🕷️

Statement of Carlos Vittery, regarding his arachnophobia and its manifestations.

The way they tackled the concept in the title was really well done. Arachnophobia is seen as an irrational fear by a lot of people, so having it portrayed as an effect of childhood trauma was a good call. And as someone who is not arachnophobic, this episode got me close to feeling that way. What ever force was making Carlos relive his trauma is a sick fuck. Also the cat was a real one, glad he survived the whole situation. (Also THE WORMS, HOLY SHIT IT’S THE SEX WORMS!!!)

- Episode 17, The Boneturner’s Tale 🦴

Statement of Sebastian Adekoya, regarding a new acquisition at Chiswick Library.

This episode really compelled me to get out the rubber bands connecting images lmao. I really liked all of the connections to past statements here, like the presence of another book from the library of Jurgen Leitner, to the mention of Micheal Crew. The body horror here was once again very creepy, (outside of the flat rat, that was morbidly funny), but my favorite part of the episode was the introduction of Elias, which was a humorous, but also very intriguing scene. Also, the themes of books containing power was great as well. Great stuff all around.

- Episode 18, The Man Upstairs 🥩

Statement of Christof Rudenko, regarding his interactions with a first floor resident of Welbeck House, Wandsworth.

…ew. Ok in all seriousness, this is probably my least favorite episode so far. Still very far from bad, but after all of the extremely interesting themes and plot threads, having an episode where the idea was just “What if a guy had a house covered in meat? Wouldn’t that be fucked up?”, felt just a little bit underwhelming. Which like, the fact that my least favorite episode’s biggest problem is that I find it slightly pales in comparison to previous ones is just a testament to how much I’ve been enjoying the podcast. Still though, there were definitely a few things I really liked. The reveal of the room was creepy (especially considering the meat that seemed…alive…), and as someone who has had to deal with upstairs neighbors making noise for hours during construction, this episode definitely scared me.

- Episode 19, Confession, and Episode 20, Desecrated Host ✝️

Statement of Father Edwin Burroughs, regarding his claimed demonic possession.

This, alongside Lost Johns’ Cave, was one (or I guess, two…) of those episodes that seriously fucked me up. While I am not religious, I have always had fears of how religion can negatively affect me and the people around me, despite the good that it seems to do for so many people. So seeing Edwin be charged for every “sin” he committed by a higher power that wishes to steal its faith, and then not get judged by it, but by the people around him for his one true sin, was absolutely haunting, and I hope he turns out ok in the end. Outside of the horror, the episodes were fantastic. Listening to the events of Episode 8 from Edwin’s perspective, and seeing how Ivo’s actions saved him, was really cool, and solidifies in my mind that Ivo’s experience was real. The connections to demonic magic and Latin script thickened, and it was overall just a great mid-season finale. In conclusion, I hope that Martin feels better soon, and if he isn’t actually sick and is being plagued by ✨the horrors✨, well then I hope he survives :).

Thank you for reading my silly little thoughts if you’ve made it this far, it really means a lot to me :). I’ll probably update this every time I finish half of a season, so hopefully my thoughts on episodes 21-40 will be here in the Reblogs soon. :)

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #Gertrude Robinson #elias bouchard #joshua gillespie #gerard keay #jurgen leitner #Ivo lensik #Edwin Burroughs #naomi herne #Julia Montauk #Robert Montauk

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punkeropercyjackson · 1 month

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Weirdboygirl Percy headcanons

(But it's almost entierly me just sharing my friends' because i'm a sap who wants them to be appreciated /lh)

When i say 'weirdboygirl',i mean it-Percy is transfem bigender and autistic with no masking ability based off canon subtext that borderlines on straight up text.He's also afrolatina/monoracial black dominican for the same reason and he's mostly femme but has a decent amount of masc thrown in there for gender fuckery and he's crustpunk with pastel/kidcore elements thrown in

He's a huge gamer who's got his own low cost setup and only dosen't do Lets Plays even though he has a vlog channel because with how he is that's setting himself up for getting viral meme'd

He thinks adult only shows and movies are absolute ass due to being too dark so he watches pg ones only including pre-schooler ones(Bluey is his favorite obviously)and he has no shame in it since he's not a freak about it

She listens to obscure podcasts and rambles about them and she's a part time artist thanks to her and Rachel being queerplatonic besties but she dosen't do grand materpieces and just draws weird shit and same for crafts

Her favorite musicians are nostalgic ex-weirdkid ones like My Chemical Romance and All Time Low and The Cheetah Girls and then it's shit like Everybody's Worried about Owen and The Cure and Meet Me @ The Altar and Metallica and a bunch of transfem artists and general genres they love are Lo-Fi Beats,Breakcore and Punk Rock

Her special interests are blue,video games,kidcore,cats and anarchy.Blue is not Percy's lifestyle but Percy's way of life,she plays only free games and uses an emulator for the rest,kidcore is a huge coping mechanism from her extremely brutal childhood,she employs a lot cat based things in their daily life and even naturally acts like a cat sometimes including a meowing vocal stim and she goes full force in Tales of Dead Seas,a Hoo one year later sequel that's about Percy dismantleing the greco-roman mythos world system starting with killing Zeus and things go up hill for everybody who's not a dickbag from there and this includes Percy gaining new powers even pre-deicide but actually having mentors this time and she actively helps out with activism in addition to all her direct action across all 5 books of her last official story

The only sea related things they love are because Sally does so she raised them in them all the time and they've got mixed feelings on them post claiming because of how awful Poseidon is but they very slowly reclaim it for themselves and the process is given big boost when their egg cracks as they use mermaid/seapunk aesthetics for presentation and their personality a little too and it gives them gender euphoria

They refuse to drink energy drinks that aren't blue colored so they have a whole stash of them and junk food too with a threatning note attached to it,their go to store is unironically Claire's and they made sure to beat the Hot Topic allegations by loud and proud announcing how much they hate them for being sellouts and fakeout freaks and they're neither a skater boy nor a surfer dude because ewww but a guitarist and a multitask helper at the Familia Jackson Beach Shack

He's also Nico and Hazel's eldest sibling figure and pseudo-dad that got them away from Hades forever and Sally legally adopted them so they all live together in the mortal world and stick together as a trio too in the mythos world.He's their caregiver but also their best friend and radicalized them and taught them how to be punks,Nico choosing tradgoth and Hazel pastel goth.Their relathionship is extremely intimate and equally silly but that dosen't mean they never had problems to unpack and fix-Siblings aren't perfect but real siblings are the ones who try to be anyway and don't expect eternal forgiveness regardless.That's what makes us siblings,not JUST blood

And they healed his inner child a lot just by hanging out with him and loving him and letting him take full responsibility in their best friendship and on the other end there's nobody who's helped Nico and Hazel heal and be stronger and be themselves like Percy has.They're eachother's whole world and multiverse and rubbed off on eachother significantly(Nico and Percy's love for video games,Percy and Hazel's artistry,Hazel and Nico's taste in food,all three of their love for kiddy things)and Percy helps Hazel with girls

He was Warrior Cats kid and gets back into it as an adult and loves it even more and yes,he roleplayed it his classmates during recess yet they pretended they hadn't and mocked and animalized him for years because how long his hyperfixation it is lasted and that's why he gave it up in his teenage years but returned to it and reclaimed the catlike behavior it gave him as autistic swag

Percy's five love languages:Humor,comfort,justice,unrestrained fun and diy'd gifts.All giving and recieving and none strictly platonic or romantic,Love is stored in the Percy

She knows how to diy so many things it's a running gag and includes things that don't exist,her biggest comfort characters are:Cookie Monster,Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy(she's a huge Flutterdash stan so she refuses to seperate them),Brandy's Cinderella,Shego,Cookie Nessa and Marina from Nintendo,Yang Xiao Long,Katara,Sonic The Hedgehog,Amy Rose and the Adventure Time Cast as a whole and her type is other autistic afrolatinos/afrolatinas who're pastel punk to her crustpunk

He (jokingly) kins Hobbie Brown and Gwen Stacy and looks like she could be Hobie's older brother

She acts and talks in ways people find offputting and strange but by now she's learned to stop being ashamed and happily embraced that she'll never be normal but that that dosen't mean she's not loved dearly and by so many people and realized that's what she truly wanted from the start instead of not being different from everyone else.Because she's the most awesome as all fuck person ever

RIZZ CITYYYYYYYYYY,HE'S FROM MANSHATTAN

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somnambulic-thing · 1 month

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"Hi, this is, um, Betty. Betty from Seattle. This might sound creepy as hell, but I heard about you on the recent Gutterballs episode. Not sure if Eddie ever mentioned me? Probably not, it was a long time ago, haha, but I got in touch with him for the first in maybe 18 years after that episode. Long story short, I'm going to be in your neck of the woods in a few months, and he thought the two of us would hit it off. I told him it was nuts to just call you out of the blue like this, but he seemed sure that you'd be cool with it. He wasn't even certain this was still your number, so I took a shot. He told me a story about one of your adventures, I can tell you meant a lot to him. That you still mean a lot to him. Anyway, I'm rambling, but I'll leave my number just in case? My Instagram too, but I'm rarely ever on there. If you ever wanna chat, or whatever, I mean, okay well that's all I guess, haha, bye."

this has been sitting in my inbox since the 17th of February? shit

I love you, Betty. Here's a little love note to prove it.

Another thread of the Gutterballs universe by the wonderful @dr-aculaaa who deserves the world. Thank you for your friendship. <3

Eddie Munson x enby!artist!reader - written from the perspective of Daria.

Words: ~1k

---

Oslo was cold today. Armed with sharp winds that nipped on sensitive skin, made eyes water and all joints slow and stiff no matter how thickly wrapped they were. All you could think of, all that you desired in this very moment as you mounted the steps to your small rental after a long day at the gallery was to drown yourself in steaming hot tea and a bone-melting bath before crawling between heavy sheets and passing out for the next ten hours.

You turned the kettle on before you unwrapped yourself from several layers of knitted garments and shoved your mittens into your coat pocket before you lost another pair to the hungry nooks and crannies of this place when something under your icy fingertips buzzed.

Gonna throw that fucking phone out of the window, you thought and pulled it out with the intent to really just turn it off without looking at whatever notification was waiting to spoil your evening but handling a screen with frozen fingers was harder than it might sound and… oh… an unknown number.

Country code +1. An unknown American number. And they had left a message.

‘A haunted castle, for Daria,’ his voice echoed through your mind for the hundredth time in the past forty-something hours since you’d heard those very words the first time. You knew of Eddie’s podcast but out of all his various endeavors - for reasons you hadn't been willing to investigate yet - you’d stayed away from Gutterballs. Until, that was, your assistant had made you aware of the episode through a voice message full of sighs and sobs and excited ramblings.

“I don’t want to spoil too much— haha, spoil, I mean, you know what happened, you lived it but— fuck, you know what I’m about to say: those drawings? Will forever be changed for me now. Now I really get why you won’t sell any of them, despite the gracious offers… Anyway, drop your pencil and. Go. Listen…”

And so you did.

After, you had spent more than an hour in the large armchair in the studio that was yours for the time of your Oslo residency, sipped cold tea and watched those memories unfold on the darkening ceiling of the room like an 8mm film.

‘Maybe my dear Strigoi is still out there.’

He’d held his hand out for you, in a way, and there was no doubt that you wanted to take it. But… you needed… a little longer. Wanted a little more time to spend with that Eddie from the past, to laugh and cry, to yearn and mourn before you were ready to reconnect with who he had become.

But, fuck. The curiosity.

You put the phone on the counter, put it on speaker and turned to pour your tea and—

"Hi, this is, um, Betty. Betty from Seattle…”

Oh.

“This might sound creepy as hell…”

No. Not at all creepy, you thought, not noticing that you were spilling hot water over the countertop while taking your eyes off your cup to stare at your phone as if you could miss Betty crawling out your screen.

Could be her style, for all you knew.

You had thought about— had planned on asking Eddie for her number yourself.

“Not sure if Eddie ever mentioned me? Probably not—“

“Oh, I heard a lot about you,” you said softly right over a nervous laugh that had an adorable ring to it, even through your subpar phone speakers. You placed the kettle next to the half-empty cup, leaned against the counter and listened.

“I told him it was nuts to just call you out of the blue like this, but he seemed sure that you'd be cool with it…”

“I bet he did,” you snort a laugh, instantly transported back to the early days of your - Eddie had been right about that - symbiosis and into a leaky tent, anchored in the woods far too close to the town where you grew up in. Rain drizzled lazily onto the taped canvas above you while you ran your fingertips lazily over Eddie’s skin in gentle exploration as the sun vanished into the thicket. Until they caught on two squiggly lines of ink.

“You into astrology?”

“Hm?” Stirred from his weed and caress induced trance he cracked one eye open. “Uhm, yeah, kind of.”

This had been the first time you heard about Betty. The first of many times.

The better he got to know you, the more he was convinced you and Betty would get along brilliantly and by what he told you about their time together, you started to like her without ever having met her. Sometimes it was almost like, through Eddie’s carefully curated memories, Betty was giving you recommendations for books, music or movies. Like little notes shared through time and space.

“He told me a story about one of your adventures.”

Betty brought you back to the here and now and for the umpteenth time in the past days, you felt some kind of nostalgic jet lag.

“I can tell you meant a lot to him. That you still mean a lot to him.”

You smiled around a heavy weight in your throat and pressed your slightly warmed-up palms to your still frozen face, wondering if you were to cry now, would your tear ducts just produce icicles?

“If you ever wanna chat, or whatever, I mean, okay well that's all I guess, haha, bye."

“Betty from Seattle,” you muttered into the sudden silence and tapped your phone screen to replay the message for the second of what would eventually be four times. “Nice to finally meet you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fic

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rosemarydisaster · 2 months

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I feel like the misogyny in fandom is only partially the fandom's fault. Let me explain: if the piece of media you're a fan of has a 50/50 female to male ratio, and treats its female characters with the same love, nuance and respect they treat their male characters with... Obviously you have a bigger chance of having your favorite character be a woman instead of a men.

If there's only one or two women, if they're written like shit, if they're not allowed the same complexity (because they're just set dressing or because "feminism dictates female characters can't have flaws" lest they call you out) well obviously you're gonna gravitate to the more nuanced male characters. If you don't care enough to write compelling female characters why should the audience feel compelled?

Don't get me wrong, even great female characters get sidelined in favor of "tall dudes with (dubiously) homoerotic tension". But in fandoms with majority female characters/really compelling female leads, the vibes are completely different. Even if there are still assholes. A great example is the fandom of Game of Thrones vs the fandom of A Song of Ice and Fire. When all your female characters either feel the same brand of girlboss/badass or are framed as annoying/evil while most of your male characters (even the evil ones) are painted as cool and badass as opposed to having a full cast of nuanced characters of both genders... yeah misogyny is gonna happen.

So yeah, we do need to work on our internalized misogyny and we do need to point out when we or the fandom treat female characters unfairly. But we also need more stories that love their female characters as much as their male counterparts. No one has the guts to hate on the female characters of The Locked Tomb Series. Mostly because why would you read a book with a mostly queer female cast about necromancy and the awfulness of love if you hated complex female characters??

We should try to give more attention to those stories. Once you start asking "isn't it weird there's no interesting women here?" When you watch/read/listen to a story you find yourself not caring much for a lot of shows. Hell it's why I can't watch most shonen anymore and why I gave up on supernatural at some point. As a "consumer" (hate that word) I also have the option to stop caring about a show that clearly doesn't care about me (or any woman for that matter).

Does this mean you can't read Sasunaru fanfic anymore? No, but when you start a new show you might want to keep that question in mind. And you also may want to consider specifically searching out for works about women or that care about their female cast as much as their male counterparts.

The fandoms don't yearn for the misogyny as much as we think. I've seen some fandom really work the terribly written female characters into extremely compelling stories. Or write new female characters in fandoms with barely any (shout out to "Local Skate Dads Adopt Three Sons and a Hooligan" for adding like three new female characters to a show with one and a half).

Our internalized misogyny is left alone to fester in a desert, deprived of good female characters. Of course people develop an almost paraphilic obsession with M/M ships when they've been trained from birth on shows that don't care for their female cast (if they have any). We center men because society centers men. And we have to do the individual job of decentering men/centering women while also aknowledging that the people that make our shows aren't doing the job.

Also if you're reading this and wondering "what even is good female representation? What kind of show should I watch?" Read the locked tomb series. Trust me, it is a religious experience (not just for women, it has so much gender in it).

Has this all been a ploy to get you to read about TLT? Yes. I also recommend The Magnus Protocol for podcasts, and Derry Girls for tv shows. They're all so good.

#misogny #fandom #fandom politics #meta #fandom misogyny #feminism #female characters #book rec #book recommendations #the locked tomb #asoiaf #justice for sansa stark

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choco-froggie · 2 months

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In his late twenties - Sebastian Sallow

Headcanons below

I want to start a series of my headcanons about what kind of person the HL characters would have become in their late twenties. Also I know next to nothing about the 19th century and don’t have the dedication to learn about it so in these, they’re just set up in our time. 😅 Bear with me

Work Life

I love the headcanon that Sebastian becomes a Curse Breaker. It fits his personal story AND personality well.

But he wouldn’t be happy working for a big corporation or the government. He is too much of a free spirit who needs to be allowed autonomy. So he would work in a small structure, a bit like a private investigator agency.

He loves his job and pours himself in it, resulting in a lot of overtime work. His boss has to throw him out of the office some days.

His home

He doesn’t need a big place so a small flat with two rooms is more than enough for him.

But he is prone to clutter and his place is full of books and things he thinks might be useful someday.

His flat is located in a big city, probably London. He needs to live in a place buzzing with life because he is easily bored. He needs a place where he will never have seen everything, with lots of things to do like exhibits, museums, libraries, pubs and restaurants,…

He doesn’t care for decoration but chooses his pieces of furniture with care. Decoration is usually taken care of by his partner.

He doesn’t own a pet, he is not at home enough to care for one and doesn’t feel the emotional need to have one.

He has a picture of his family in every room, even if it’s a small picture, but he wants them close everywhere in his place.

Social Life

He kept in contact with a lot of his former friends back in Hogwarts. He doesn’t meet them every day but is happy to have a drink with them when the opportunity rises.

He is outgoing and comfortable in social settings. He is able to come to a party where he knows no one and blend in with ease.

Despite being quite extroverted, he doesn’t form a strong bond with just anyone. Even though he is friendly with everyone, it’s mostly superficial and his true friends can be counted on one hand.

He doesn’t enjoy being alone so is often meeting friends after work, several times a week, and shares activities with them on the weekend like playing quidditch, go on small trips, game nights, watching quidditch games,…

Love Life

He has dated but has never had a « wild phase ».

He needs an independent partner. He is very busy with his work and all the things he has in mind, so he really appreciates someone who is likeminded. He can’t deal well with needy people. Being in the same room or space is already great to him for most evenings.

Actually self sufficient and people who are their own person attracts him.

He also needs someone with patience. When stressed or tired he can become a bit grumpy or moody, so he needs a partner who won’t escaladate. But he knows he is wrong and will come back and apologize once he is calmed down.

As said, he is a bit busy, but his partner is the person he wants to spend all his relaxing time with. Whether it is by cuddling after a long day in bed, or by exploring the city together, trying new activities, strolling in museums, or trying new food.

He is independant and self sufficient, as a partner he doesn’t slack off around the house and shares the mental load. He is reliable, he is used to live alone and gets things done without being babied.

Quirks

He hates doing laundry and doesn’t tidy his place as much as he should be but it’s always clean.

He can’t handle silence, even when he sleeps. He is always listening to something, most of the time it’s documentaries or podcasts about things he wants to learn about.

What would yours be about adult Seb ?

#cosy sebby #sebastian sallow #i am old so I make them old #i will admit I first started to draw a cosy room I would love to own and then decided to add Sebastian #and now I plan on making a series with the HL characters #hogwarts #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy headcanons #Sebastian sallow headcanons #aged up Sebastian sallow #hl headcanons #hl fanart #sebastian hogwarts legacy

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sgkophie · 2 years

Text

Man's World - Chapter 9 - Never Underestimate Georgia Leclerc

Pairing: Female!Leclerc reader x Carlos Sainz Jr, Carlos Sainz x reader

Warnings: smut, language

Rating: Mature

Word Count: ~6500

AN: OKKKKKKK.... things are heating up for our girl Georgia!

Sorry this chapter was a little later than I wanted - was originally hoping for Friday, but had some friends come in town. Hope this is worth it! I should have the next one out by Wed/Th.

I'm expecting this to go to 15 chapters, but don't fret, because I've already thought of a spin off with Lily with either Charles or Pierre - what do you think!? Could maybe do George Russell or Max?

Little poll for you all here!

As always, comments are greatly appreciated and thank for your the feedback!

Short Synopsis: Enemies to lovers with Carlos. <3

Check out the full intro synopsis + full story master list here!

***********

Friday Morning

After the podcast event last night, Pierre and Charles had stopped by my room for a nightcap. There had been considerable amounts of teasing from the Frenchman, most of which I tried to ignore. Still, even as I woke up with a fresh head this morning, there was one comment I couldn’t ignore from Pierre: “Either Carlos is the best actor on the grid, or I would say someone has a crush on you.” I knew Pierre had meant it in a teasing manner, but that comment stuck to me like glue. Why had Carlos said so many nice things? I mean – we were still new in our relationship, he could have just made a few hints and played it off. Instead, the Spaniard doubled down and dedicated the end of the segment to our relationship.

I picked up my phone from the charger and opened Instagram, trying to take my mind off of the man who was starting to consume my thoughts this morning. Why on earth I thought social media would be an escape from my relationship, I have no idea. As soon as I opened Instagram, my search page was flooded with photos of Carlos and me – F1 page after F1 page full of comments about the podcast.

Since when did the entire world decide to start listening to podcasts, I grumbled to myself.

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes as I came across a photo of us holding hands – well, what seemed like hundreds of photos of us holding hands. I guess Lizzie was right, the media and fans were going to eat this up. Not the worst thing, I thought to myself. We wanted to sell this and my, oh, my, the fans were buying what we were selling.

I stopped at a particular post, it was about the podcast from last night.

Filtering through the comments, I was pleasantly surprised that fans were receptive to Carlos’ interview about me. After last night’s talk I was worried that the hate towards me would just increase; jealous fans were a real problem in F1. But to my surprise, the comments were instead focusing on how he was good for me and would probably make me a more likeable person.

Well, that is the whole fucking point of this, I thought to myself. Still, a part of me was incredibly pleased that this was working. Just need to make myself likeable, and then I can rid myself of Carlos Sainz forever.

I heard some noise from the living room and turned to my alarm clock. 7:00 AM – could still get another hour of sleep. Carlos and I weren’t planning on leaving until 9:00 AM, this time in his Ferrari. Why on earth is Carlos up and awake? I hadn’t heard him come in last night, so I assumed that he had come back fairly late.

I jumped out of bed and headed to the door of my room. I opened it slightly, only see Carlos Sainz sitting on the sofa, his head in his hands, mumbling something to himself. He was rocking back and forth just a tad, a look of stress on what little parts of his face I could see. I shut the door slightly – not entirely sure what to do. It seemed like a private moment, and as much as the guy annoyed me, I didn’t feel as though it was right to invade his space.

Not even a minute later I heard the bathroom door close. I took that as my queue and tip toed out into the living room, making my way to the little kitchen the suite had. I filled my pour over kettle with water and began to grind the coffee beans. This weeks’ coffee beans were from a little roaster in Denver, Colorado that I had adored – a gift from Daniel Ricciardo who had recently visited some friends up in the mountains. As I was pouring the water over my coffee beans, I saw Carlos leave the bathroom – his shirt now in his hands as opposed to on his body. Does he do this just to annoy me? I mumbled to myself.

I opened my mouth to make a rude comment about this being a public living room, but as his face turned around, I could see that his eyes were red and puffy, slightly sunken in. Not the usual eyes that I was used to from the Spaniard. I don’t think I had ever seen Carlos cry, not even after his first win in Silverstone last year. I quickly shut my mouth as Carlos just simply nodded to me, turning back towards his bedroom.

I’m not sure what prompted me to call out to him – maybe it was that I had experienced the look he had on his face many times. Anxiety was real in the racing community, and I couldn’t imagine what this home race meant to him. He had never won before in Spain, he had barely even finished a race, constant DNF after DNF in the recent years. Now he had a first class car and a real opportunity to win the race.

“Want some coffee? There’s enough for two here,” I called out to him. Truth was, the way I drank coffee, there was barely enough for one, but I figured the gesture was probably more important than my coffee addiction.

I could see Carlos contemplating my offer, his eyes flickering up and down the kitchen. Much to my surprise, he nodded, coming over towards me – still shirtless. I tried not to stare at him, he was clearly not feeling well, and he didn’t need me ogling him. Although something told me that would actually make him feel better. Such an ego on that man.

As soon as the coffee was ready, I poured out two cups and motioned for him to sit on the sofa. I handed him a cup and sat down next to him, letting the silence sift across the room. I didn’t know what to say. Maybe I didn’t need to say anything.

After a few more minutes of silence and sipping our coffees, Carlos spoke. “I’m surprised you take your coffee black,” he said simply.

“I would never insult a coffee roaster by putting cream and sugar into my coffee,” I gasped, pretending to sound offended.

Carlos chuckled, nodding at me. “A woman of much mystery.”

I nodded in agreement, sighing as I sipped more of my coffee. I let a few more moments go by and then I gathered enough as much courage as I could to ask about the elephant in the room. “You feeling ok today?”

Carlos diverted his beautiful brown eyes from mine, letting out a deep breath that I didn’t realize he was holding. It was as if he wanted me to ask, and was too scared to volunteer what he was holding inside without my permission.

“Just a lot on my mind, you know, being the home race. I have never wanted to win so badly. There’s so many expectations for me today – expectations from family, friends, the team. A Spanish driver hasn’t won at home in well over a decade.” It’s as if the words just kept spilling out of him – like Carlos was realizing as every word left his mouth, the load on his mind was a little easier. I just sat and listened, internalizing everything he said. I could feel his words in my heart, because I had the same feelings about Monaco. “Sometimes I feel like it’s all too much – like it would just be easier if my car crashed and then I wouldn’t have to face the possibility of completing the race, but not even making it to the podium.”

His last comment shocked me a bit. I’d never seen Carlos this vulnerable before. I took in what he said and thought carefully about my next statement. “The only person that you can let down is yourself,” I said finally. “You don’t owe anyone anything. You drive for you. You’re many things Carlos, but you aren’t a coward. You’re going to drive this weekend with the same amount of passion you have for your country, and I think it’ll transpire into something you’ll be proud of.”

With my last comment Carlos looked up, his eyes looking directly into mine. For a moment, his eyes drifted to my lips, and I could feel butterflies once again forming in my stomach. For just a moment, I could see Carlos begin to lean in, his eyes still looking at my lips as he licked his own, his teeth slightly biting on his bottom lip. Is Carlos Sainz going to kiss me? I panicked for a bit. Did I want him to kiss me?

We suddenly heard a big knock on the door. Carlos and I both jumped a little and Carlos pulled back from me, his cheeks a little red now, as if he was slightly embarrassed by the weird moment we had both just shared.

“Georgie – any chance you’re up?” I heard Lily on the other end of the door.

I quickly got up from the sofa. Lily and I were close, but it was unusual to hear here knocking on my door at 7:30 in the morning. I opened the door for her and there stood in front of me was a slightly ruffled Lily.

“You alright, Lil?” I asked, looking her up and down. She nodded shyly, clearly a little embarrassed that she had come to my room so early while I was still in my pajamas. I opened the door some more and motioned for her to come in.

As Lily walked in, I had forgotten that Carlos was sitting on the sofa, shirtless, wearing some skimpy soft Puma shorts as pajamas. “Oh, sorry if I am interrupting something!” Lily giggled, a small smirk forming on her face. I gave her a look that told her don’t even think about it, and she took a seat in the armchair across from the couch. I went back to my chemex and began making a second round of coffees.

“I was- uh – just on a run and thought I would stop by. I listened to the podcast last night – really funny Carlos,” she giggled. I could see her eyes give him one more once over as she blushed a bit. Carlos smirked, clearly pleased that Lily wasn’t quite as good as I was in hiding her ogling. I’m not sure what came over me, but all of a sudden I felt a slight twinge of jealousy. Carlos might be a fake boyfriend, but Lily could at least not silently flirt with him in front of me. Well, flirting was perhaps a strong term for this… I mean, I couldn’t blame her, Carlos was incredibly attractive and shirtless Carlos, well he was just hot.

“The podcast was a good time,” Carlos agreed, finishing his cup of coffee. Once the second round was done, I poured everyone a cup and sat back down on the couch, this time slightly closer to Carlos than before, as if to remind Lily who he was actually fake dating.

What is wrong with you Georgia, you don’t even particularly like the man, I thought to myself.

“I mean I appreciate you dropping by, Lil, but 7:30 is a little early, even for you.” Lily was a notorious early riser. She had a weird thing about watching sunrises before race weekends, claimed it gave her peace and serenity before she entered the race car.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just feel like the last few weeks haven’t gone well in the car, and I’m just so nervous for today. I mean the upgrades are going to be great, but I just can’t seem to get ahold of the car. Feel like I’m working against the car.”

I nodded. Lily was a great driver, but getting ahold of a Formula 1 car was difficult and she was young – just barely 20. “I know you know this, but I’ll say it again. It’s your first year, Lily. It takes time to get used to a car of that quality. I have a lot more years than you and while it isn’t Indy Car, the cars are very similar to Formula 1. There’s a lot of learning that comes with age. Isabelle picked you for a reason. All you need to do this weekend is put your head down and drive like incredible driver the team believes you are.”

I could see a smile form on Lily’s lips, her eyes perking up a bit. What am I now, everyone’s therapist? I laughed to myself.

“Wisdom comes with age, as my Dad always says,” Carlos added, nodding in agreement with me. “I have no doubt you’ll have some WDCs ahead of you – probably more than this one will get,” he added, ruffling my hair and giving me a wink.

“And definitely more than Carlos will get,” I deadpanned, staring back at him with an annoyed face. Lily laughed at both our comments.

She stayed for another 20 minutes, finishing her cup of coffee, before excusing herself and leaving. About 2 minutes after she left I heard a ding on my phone, a text from Lily lighting up the screen.

Lily: GURL – why have you not had some angry hate sex with this fine man, yet? Or was that what I was interrupting this morning? 😉

I rolled my eyes, giggling slightly to myself. She had interrupted something – but I had no idea what it was.

Me: A classy lady never tells.

And with that, I put my phone down and hopped into the shower. Carlos and I spent the rest of the morning in silence, and as soon as 9 am rolled around, we left the room – together this time – and headed towards the valet to pick up his Ferrari. The drive to the paddock was also pretty quiet. We exchanged a few comments on the weather, and once we arrived, we did the same routine as yesterday. Carlos handed me my bag, took my hand in his, and we walked through the paddock together – hand in hand.

As soon as I walked into the Bugatti garage, I was dragged by Lizzie into what felt like the world’s biggest hug. “Georgie – soooo good to see you. How was the podcast taping last night?” she asked cheerfully. I rolled my eyes. As if Lizzie hadn’t listened to it live… please, I thought to myself. Before I could answer Isabelle called us both into her office. There was no smile on her face, but I could tell that she was pleased.

“Good morning ladies. Georgia, looks like you had a productive evening last night. I just got off the phone with Louis Vuitton, and they have asked for us to meet them the week of Monaco.” I felt a huge sigh of relief ripple through me, as I let out my breath.

“Oh! My! God!” Lizzie screamed. “This is amazing!”

“It’s just a meeting, but still, it’s a step in the right direction for us. Keep it up, and we should have a sponsorship deal scored before the summer break.” Isabelle turned directly to me and squinted her ryes a bit. “That means no Sassy Leclerc to the cameras, got it, Georgia?”

I rolled my eyes at her but nodded. “Yes, yes, I’ll do my best to quell the beast inside of me,” I bit back.

“Good to hear. Now remember, we have the Spanish Drivers Association event tonight. You will be attending with Carlos and you and Carlos will be seated at a table with me and Mattia, your brother, and Lily. A car picks you up at 7pm. DO NOT be late. I had a dress sent to your room.”

“I’ll be there will bells on,” I whistled back. “Now if you don’t mind, I have a race to win!” And with that I trotted out of Isabelle’s office, feeling quite pleased with myself.

Free Practice 1 and 2 had gone pretty nicely for me. I had topped the first Free Practice, but Charles and Lewis had beaten me in the second. I knew Carlos wouldn’t be happy that he hadn’t managed to get the fastest lap in either of the sessions. The moment I hopped into his Ferrari at the end of the day, I could see the look of disappointed on his face. The calm and teasing nature that he usually had was now replaced by anxiety and discomfort.

When I opened the door to our suite, I saw my dress waiting for me. As I opened the dress bag, I was slightly horrified to see what lay waiting for me. There inside the bag was what I could only describe as the sexiest black dress I had ever laid my eyes on. What on earth was Isabelle playing at?

Me: Ummm care to explain the dress Isabelle sent to my room?

Lizzie: Isn’t it just so gorgeous?

Me: ….

Lizzie: What better way to secure a Louis Vuitton sponsorship then you making headlines with that sexy black Louis Vuitton dress?

I clicked my phone off, sighing in annoyance. Lizzie was right; the dress was a statement piece and was sure to turn heads – and photographers cameras. After completing my hair and make up, I went back into my room and changed into the dress. I wasn’t going to lie, I looked hot in this dress. Fair play, Isabella, fair play.

When I was done changing, I walked back out into the living room, securing my Cartier bracelet around my wrist that Charles had given me for our birthday last year. As I walked into the room I heard a loud cat whistle at me and turned to see Carlos Sainz on the couch. His eyes looked tired – and slightly red – but his features were relaxed and he had a smirk on his lips.

“What did I do to deserve this honor?” he chuckled cheekily. I could see his eyes rake over me, going slowly from the top of my frame to the bottom, paying careful attention to my leg that stuck out of the dress slit.

“Don’t kid yourself Carlos, this is for a man called Louis – Louis Vuitton that is, might have heard of him.” Carlos raised his eyebrow a bit, but laughed at my comment.

“Ready to go?” I asked, grabbing my purse.

“Almost – I have a small gift for you,” Carlos replied, pulling out a small box from his bag. I quirked my eyebrow up, my interest now piqued. He set the box down on the coffee table and motioned for me to take it.

I cautiously took the box in my hands, opening it slowly. There inside the Tiffany’s box was a small necklace with a chili pepper insignia dangling from the silver chain. I was torn – it was actually a very tasteful and beautiful necklace, but the idea of wearing my competitors symbol around my neck irked me to no end.

I looked up at Carlos, letting me eyes meet his beautiful brown ones. “Really?” I said sarcastically.

Carlos, ignoring the sarcasm dripping from my voice, just smiled at me and said, “Designed it myself, cariño. Don’t want any of the other drivers getting any ideas when they see you in this black dress. I’ve seen how Pierre looks at you.” His voice was cocky, but I could hear a bit of jealousy in it when he mentioned Pierre. Carlos Sainz, bit of a possessive streak. Noted.

“Well, be quick and put it on then,” I mumbled, conceding to Carlos’ silent request to have me wear this ridiculous necklace. He had a rough day, I thought to myself. I guess the least I could do is throw him a bone. Carlos took the necklace from my hands and took it out of the case, motioning for me to turn it around. I complied, and Carlos draped the necklace over my neck. As Carlos’ hands slid over my bare shoulders, goose bumps went up my arms and chest. I silently prayed that Carlos hadn’t noticed how much his touch had effected me, but I knew he had noticed, because his hands went even slower, buckling the necklace with such a gentle touch.

“Beautiful,” he whispered in my ear as he pulled away from my back. I blushed a bit, feeling my cheeks heating up. Carlos grabbed my bag and handed it to me, as he walked towards the door, his hand on the small of my back as he guided me towards the elevator outside of our room.

As we waited for the elevator, I silently prayed that no one was inside the elevator. It felt as though I had experienced some bad luck with elevators recently, and I didn’t feel like enduing any more elevator moments with the F1 community. Carlos and I stepped inside once the door opened and I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw it was empty. Carlos chuckled a bit – although I wasn’t sure at what. I didn’t particularly want to know.

The elevator started to move down, but unfortunately for me it stopped just a few floors down, opening up to reveal none other than Pierre Gasly.

Ehh, could be worse.

“Wow, Georgie, you look incredible,” Pierre gasped, giving me a hug as he entered the elevator. He nodded in Carlos’ direction. As soon as the elevator began to move down gain, I felt Carlos move slightly closer to me. His hand started to move around my waist, ever so casually, as he side eyed Pierre. Is he trying to get a rise out of Pierre? I thought to myself. Pierre, however, just continued to ignore Carlos’ movements, chatting away to me as the elevator continued its downward movement, although I could see a twinkle in his eye, some silent laugher dancing in his blue eyes.

As soon as the elevator opened to the lobby floor, I felt Carlos grab my hand and drag me away from the elevator – or, more likely, drag me away from Pierre Gasly. As promised Isabelle and Mattia were waiting outside in the car. As soon as Isabelle saw us she waved, her eyes dropping to the necklace around my neck. She raised her left eyebrow, silently asking me a question that I didn’t particularly have an answer for myself. I just shrugged and hopped into the car, sitting next to Carlos. Charles and Lily were already inside the car, chatting away about the silly video McLaren had released early today of Danny and Lando.

Both of their eyes also flicked to my chest, the necklace getting Charles’ attention. I just gave him a dead stare, daring him or Lily to make a comment about it. Was this going to be my entire night?

We arrived at the Divers Association dinner and took our seats at one of the front tables. Carlos’ parents were at the table next to ours, and his mother gave me a huge hug as we passed. “Oh Georgia, that necklace is so beautiful – Carlos did a great job designing that,” she purred, still looking at the necklace. I put on my biggest smile and nodded, thanking her for the compliment.

As we took out seats at the table, I noticed Carlos’ hands silent shaking. Every so often he would rub his hands against his napkin, and I could tell that he was wiping away the sweat from his hands. I reached out and took his hand in mine, smiling at him, as I leaned over and whispered. “Your speech is going to be great, Carlos.”

Carlos nodded at me, but he released my hand from his grip, instead wiping his sweaty hands on his pants. It was odd, seeing Carlos like this. A very different demeanor from Carlos’ usual happy-go-lucky self. It almost pained me to see him like this, full of worry and anxiety. While I was starting to dislike Carlos a little less since we had started this fake dating, I knew for sure that I didn’t like this Carlos in front of me. Who knew I would prefer cocky Carlos?

As I turned to Charles, getting back into the conversation he and Isabelle were having, I put my hands on Carlos thigh, rubbing little circles on his leg and squeezing gently. Carlos turned and looked at me, raising his eyebrow just a tad, as if questioning what I was doing. I just smiled at him, and turned back to Charles and Lily, answering a question that was thrown my way, keeping my hand on Carlos’ thigh, slowly stroking up and down with my finger tips. I could feel Carlos start to relax a bit, his shoulders were leaning back more, and he was rubbing his hands on his pants and napkin less.

Well, at least now I knew how to distract Carlos, I thought rather proudly to myself. Still, Carlos wasn’t rejoining the conversation. I’m not sure why I thought it was my responsibility to help Carlos get over his anxiety about the speech. I suppose as his girlfriend in public, I knew I had a job to do. If Carlos fucked up the speech, it wouldn’t exactly make our relationship look great. I nodded inwardly, pretending that was why I quickly stood up and excused myself, walking towards the Ladies restroom, purse in hand. I entered the stall and quickly slid my red lacey thong off, putting it in my purse.

If this doesn’t snap Carlos out of his funk, I don’t know what will.

I sauntered back to the table, waving at a few of the other drivers on the way back. As soon as I sat down, I put my lacey thong in my hand and discretely slid it into Carlos’ jacket pocket. He felt the movement of his jacket and looked at me. I gave him a quick wink, and turned back to my conversation with Lily, chatting away about qualifying tomorrow.

While Lily was responding, I let my eyes slightly wander to Carlos, who had his hands in his jacket pocket. He raised an eyebrow at me, letting a large grin slide cross his face. Carlos removed his hand from his jacket pocket, and put it on my thigh, mimicking the movements I was doing earlier on his thigh. Carlos turned back into the conversation and joined us for the next ten minutes, before his name was called to the stage.

As he walked onto the stage, I saw his put his hands in the jacket pocket that I had snuck my thong into, another smile gracing his lips. I could see himself visibly relax, and he began his speech, which to my surprise, was actually quite funny and endearing. He spoke about his time karting as a little boy on the Barcelona track, and gave Ferrari a heartwarming thank you for giving him an opportunity to compete for a win tomorrow. As he ended the speech, the crowd erupted into cheers for Carlos.

Well done, Georgia, I thought to myself, internally patting myself on the back.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch. Carlos was clearly more relaxed now that the speech was over. As the evening started to die down, Carlos stood up, signaling that it was time to go. We said our goodbyes and Carlos hailed us a cab, opening the door for me.

The ride back to the hotel was quiet, neither of us wanting to discuss the fact that I was no longer wearing any underwear, although the grin on Carlos face told me enough. Carlos quickly ushered us out of the cab and got us into the elevator. As soon as the doors opened, Carlos grabbed my hand and bolted us to our suite, quickly opening the door and dragging us inside.

“Carl-“ I began, about to chide him for dragging me through the hotel, but before I could even finish my sentence, Carlos’ lips were on mine, his hands on my waist and neck. I’m not sure what came over me, but I pulled him closer, letting my hands rest on his back. Carlos broke away, resting his forehead on mine as he caught his breath.

“What was that for?” I questioned, trying to regain some composure. Carlos just chuckled. “I think you know what that was for.” I just rolled my eyes.

“Any chance I can get my underwear back?” I asked dryly.

“Carlos pulled the thong out of his jacket pocket. “And give away my good luck charm?” he responded slyly, smirking in my direction. He could tell I was getting slightly annoyed. “You want it back, you’ll have to earn it,” he added in sneakily.

So Carlos Sainz wanted to play games. That’s fine, I could play games.

“Oh?” I questioned, slowly moving towards Carlos. Carlos put the thong back into his jacket pocket and sat on the couch, still grinning like a Cheshire cat. I all of a sudden felt brazen. Maybe it was the champagne from the dinner catching up with me, but I felt bold and beautiful, as Carlos’ eyes raked up and down my body. Maybe Lily was right – maybe I should have sex with Carlos, get it out of my system.

I stalked towards Carlos, and reached him on the sofa. Surprising both Carlos and myself, I straddled his lap, my dress starting to hike up my legs. I reached for Carlos’ belt and he raised an eyebrow, clearly curious at what I was going to do. I began to unbuckle his belt, letting a grin cross my lips as he let a soft moan fall from his lips. As I pulled down his zipper, I let my hand slip into his waistband, raising my eyebrow in silent question to see if he wanted me to continue. He nodded, albeit a bit wearily, and I slid my hand into his waist hand, palming his already hard and aching cock.

I grabbed the edges of his pants and boxers. “Up,” I instructed and Carlos complied, letting his cock spring free. I’m not sure exactly what I had expected of Carlos, but wow was all that came to mind. His cock was thick, precum glistening at the tip. I licked my lips and slid down to the floor on my knees, taking my tongue and running it up the base of his shaft all the way up to his tip. Carlos let out a huge moan, letting his hand rest on my head. I took him deep into my mouth, letting him hit the back of my throat.

“Oh fuck,” Carlos gritted out. “That feels-“ I went down on him again, slowly bobbing up and down on his length, and he grabbed my hair even harder. “Stop teasing, cariño,” he demanded, letting a large sigh fall from his lips.

I continued to work him, letting my hands gently massage his balls as I kept deepthroating the Spaniard in our shared living room. I could tell he was starting to get closer, because his moans were getting louder. Both of his hands were in my hair, and I picked up the pace.

Soon Carlos was a moaning mess above me as he called out, “I’m going to-“ He didn’t need to finish his sentence, I knew he was about to come. I doubled down on my efforts as he came in my mouth, sucking up everything he gave me as Carlos came down from his high.

Once I was finished, I wiped my mouth and look up at him, a large smirk on my face. Carlos’ face was pretty speechless. Clearly he was not expecting me to do that – not that he was complaining, clearly. I stood up and put my hand in his jacket pocket, grabbing my thong.

“I’d say I earned this back, wouldn’t you agree?” I smirked. Before Carlos could answer, I sauntered back to my room, letting my hips sway just a little bit more than usual, awfully proud of myself. I didn’t even look back, but I knew Carlos still had a look of shock on his face.

Never underestimate Georgia Leclerc, I thought to myself.

Sunday Race Day - Carlos POV

Saturday had been an interesting day to say the least. After the incredible evening on Friday, Saturday had been a little awkward between us. Well, a lot more awkward. We both went out of our way to avoid each other, clearly neither of us knew what to say to the other. She had looked amazing on Friday, and felt even more amazing when she sucked my cock after we got back to the hotel room. Truth was, I was feeling a bit enamored by her. She had single handedly managed to calm me down and given me the confidence I needed to surge through the weekend.

I did know, of all the emotions I was feeling, I was a little irked that Georgia had just sauntered off after I had finished Friday evening. I wanted to repay the favor – but most importantly, I didn’t want to let her have the upper hand, which I now felt like she had. She had made me feel incredible, and I hadn’t repaid the debt.

I hated being in debt to other people. Especially people as sassy as Georgia; I knew she was loving this.

Still, I was able to get some revenge on her Saturday during qualifying. Her choices on Friday night had made me feel so relaxed, that I had actually taken pole on Saturday – my first ever pole, and at my home race, too.Maybe I should rile up Georgia more often – seemed to really work well for me, I laughed to myself.

Now here I was, sitting in the car in P1, waiting for the race to start. Georgia had gotten P3 in qualifying, with George Russell sitting in P2. Charles had to take a new engine, so he was starting at the back of the grid.

As soon as the lights went off, I launched off the starting line like my life depended on it. The car felt good – very good. I knew better than to let my hopes get up, because recently they seemed to be constantly dashed by Ferrari strategy, but today I was going to let myself dream.

As soon as lap 20 hit, I could see Georgia really gaining on George Russell behind me. I silently prayed that she wouldn’t pass him. George Russell I could keep back in the Mercedes but a Bugatti up behind me, not the most ideal situation at hand.

It was no surprise to me that after two more laps, Georgia had passed George, and she was gunning for me next. Within another 5 laps I could see her right on my rear, well within DRS range.

Neither of us had pitted, but I knew she wasn’t going to until I had – both teams trying to hold on as much as we possibly could. By lap 27 Georgia had caught me on the straight, and she sailed on by. I swear, for just a second I saw her wave to me. Had I imagined that? My blood boiled just a bit, but I put my head down.

I could hear my race engineer Riccardo come into my ear. “Georgia is going to pit. Box box.” Just as he said, Georgia went into the pits as did I, both of us coming out as positions 3 and 4 now. The race continued on, Georgia and I moving up the ranks, slowly getting back to P1 and P2 respectively by lap 40.

As lap 50 came around, I saw Georgia in front of me do a 360. Her car was still on the track and facing forward, but for a moment, she had spun and I felt my heart stop. How close was George behind her? What if he hit her? As quickly as she had spun, she started back up again, and I could see her car in my mirrors, regaining speed, although George Russell was quickly back behind her again.

I quickly hit the radio button. “All ok with Georgia?” I asked.

“Yup,” my engineer replied, probably a little confused as to why I was asking. “Head down Carlos – only 16 laps to go.”

I knew while Georgia would be furious with her mistake, this had given me the opportunity I needed to get out in front and win the race. This was my time. Like Georgia had said, I only owed this race win to myself. It was up to me to win it – and earn it.

As lap 65 came, I could see Georgia gaining on me again, with George Russell quickly behind, a DRS train forming. I held on, defending every move Georgia put on me. As soon as lap 66 came, I knew Georgia was about half a second behind me, trying to get around me. I held on tightly. Within a minute I could see the checkered flag up above, and as a few more seconds passed, I had crossed the line, my car just barely in front of Georgia’s.

I heard screaming in my headphones. “You did it, ChilI!” I heard Mattia come on the line. “What a race!”

“Gracias to the team,” I called back out. I could feel tears start to slowly trickle down my face. I had done it; I had managed to stave off Georgia and win my home Grand Prix.

I parked my car in spot 1 and looked to my right. There was Georgia in the P2 spot, on top of her car, doing her window washing dance as her engineers looked on, laughing with her. I knew she’d be disappointed, because that was her win that she lost purely on driver error, but still – P2 was an excellent result, one the other 18 drivers on the grid wished they had.

I hopped out the car and ran towards my family who were waiting for me. I gave my father a particularly big hug as he hugged me back with such force I could barely breath. I ripped my racing helmet off and hugged and kissed my mother; there were tears in her eyes. Before I could make it over to the interview area, I felt a tap on my shoulder. Georgia was behind me, a huge smile on her face, her eyes were glistening and for once, her smile looked completely genuine for me. I felt my heart beat a little quicker, as if that was even possible.

Much to my surprise, Georgia hopped up into my arms, her arms wrapped around my neck. “Congratulations, Chili,” she whispered in my ear. “Don’t get used to it, guapo, I’ll be back next week,” she said with a smirk and a wink.

And then she kissed me.

The kiss was nothing like yesterday. It was slow, messy and passionate. I held onto her back tighter as I kissed her back, forgetting for a moment that we were in public. Next to me I heard Daniel Ricciardo whistle loudly as he and Lando came up to greet me and Georgia. I set her down on the ground and grabbed her face closer to me one last time and whispered back, “Until next time, hermosa.”

Georgia laughed at me and walked away towards the interview area, my eyes following her form as she walked on.

Oh yeah, I was in trouble for sure.

********************

This was post number 100 for me - how fun!!

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