#... i'm sorry! i really feel bad how much of this is disagreeing with you. i really appreciate the ask!

[yoomimain]

༻ boyfriend Vinnie ༺

just some silly lil hc's of how I think he'd be in a relationship ♡

• attentive !! always making sure you're on the same page in your relationship, giving assurance whether you've asked for it or not. he picks up on all the little things and does everything he can to make sure he's treating you the way you deserve.

• honestly there's a part of me that sees him being much more of a small gesture boyfriend rather than huge over the top displays of affection. I mean don't get me wrong, your birthday? Valentine's Day? an anniversary? expect a penthouse with dimmed lights and trails of flower petals to a bed with giftbags (and lingerie) strewn around it.

• but generally I feel he's much more of a "I took this picture of the sky because it made me think of you" "there was a vendor selling bouquets on my way home just now" "I made sure to pick up some dinner for you because I know you've had a rough week" kinda boyfriend, yk??

• I fear he sleeps like a boy. we have seen a few pictures of him sleeping but I do feel like he just kinda. splays his whole body out over the bed, not quite snoring but doing that adorable thing of sleeping with his mouth open slightly. if you're in bed with him I definitely see him treating you like a teddy bear, wrapping his arms fully around you and not letting you move- at all- during the night.

• will absolutely tease you with his morning voice because he knows what it does to you. some mornings he'll brush his nose along the back of your neck, his warm breath making you stir slightly, until you're awake enough to hear him. "morning my love," he'd mutter in your ear, his lips brushing the spot just beneath it. "you were moving around an awful lot last night, have a bad dream?" you'd do your best to shake your head, trying not to let him get to you, until you felt his lips form a smile against your skin. "mm how 'bout you show me what had you so worked up, huh?"

• my goodness!! it is a bit warm in here!!

• anyways!! pet names. I think he'd like them but definitely silly ones moreso than actual affectionate ones. you guys would start ironically calling eachother like "stinky" or something until it actually became the main way you'd refer to eachother.

• although he is absolutely a "my wife" man, and you can argue with the wall if you disagree.

• "sorry guys, I can't game for too long tonight, my wife's making me dinner and I'm really excited"

• overall I feel he's just such a loving boy. realistically he'd probably be very awkward initially for the first chunk of your relationship, making really bad jokes and laughing way too loud and blushing nonstop. but it doesn't take long for him to get comfortable and become the border collie boy we all know and love :)

୨ this took me way longer than it should have, the holidays have seriously caused me some writers block. but I hope you guys enjoy anyways !! if you want a part 2 just lmk !!! :) ୧

[crownedwille]

.

[commsroom]

OHOHOHOH i like this train of thought with car guy eiffel who always has a tiny screwdriver/one of those with interchangeable heads in his pocket eiffel going to engineering and screwing around with spare parts and fixing things when he needs to think eiffel who always has little metal bits and screws that hes messing with on his desk eiffel who makes little metal trinkets for his loved ones. he sits and rambles to hera about engines and different manufacturers and they design the perfect car together with her knowledge of the world and his brain for design and mechanics. im thinking very much kaylee from firefly who never understood people but somehow machines just talk to her and spring to life in her hands. doug eiffel who wanted to go to college for aerospace engineering and work for nasa but never went to college and picked up a job hauling scrap parts to pay for said college degree before he dropped out and ended up working as head mechanic and whose dreams of building space ships were reignited when cutter found him in prison. or, my saddest thought yet, eiffel already planning on building a car with his daughter for her sixteenth birthday before she was taken from him.

idk also brings new life to his relationship with hera as the ship and how no one else on the hephaestus was really fit to do big repairs, but if he had a background in mechanics he could understand her on ANOTHER level that the other crew members dont get

oh gosh, i really don't think he'd be into anything that complex! like - don't get me wrong, eiffel is smarter than people (including himself) give him credit for, but he's a handyman, not an engineer. he is like the model for undiagnosed adhd class clown; he got through high school because he tests remarkably well without ever studying, and that was just enough to keep him from failing on account of all the homework he didn't do. i fully believe that eiffel never went to college, and never intended to. he's unambitious, and i love that about him.

maxwell's got the genius mechanical aptitude, minkowski's got the hard work and dreams of spaceflight... eiffel's passion is radio. when i say he's a car guy, i don't think it's his thing like radio is his thing - he's just a guy with a head full of american pop culture biases, who likes tinkering with stuff, and who lists "monster trucks" as one of the top ten things he misses about earth. like - i feel bad that so much of this is me disagreeing with you, these are just very different things! eiffel's definitely got tools on hand, he keeps one of his tool bags by his bed, he likes building things out of spare parts - canonically, he's got a lot of technical know-how, but it's in a much more practical, hands-on way. i don't think he'd be telling hera about design, much less his own design concepts, as much as he'd be ranking his dream cars. and i do not think functionality factors in as much as "he thinks it's cool" and/or "they used that make and model in a movie that he liked."

and speaking of hera, honestly, like... eiffel's good with his hands! and he can follow her instructions and do repairs if necessary. but the kind of electronics eiffel works with are nowhere near as complex, and i don't think spaceship maintenance comes naturally to him - and it's certainly not something he wants to do!! and while it makes a pretty big difference whether we're talking general station maintenance vs. specifically hera's hardware here, i think the fact that he doesn't know how to navigate this stuff without her input is part of the reason she feels safe with him. he didn't even think about what "optical system" could mean. eiffel couldn't (intentionally) mess with hera's systems even if he wanted to. hera is so used to people who "understand" her in that way taking advantage of her; i think it's reassuring eiffel has no interest in it. he is a people person; hera's just a regular person to him.

but anyway. i think he was looking forward to teaching anne how to drive, and that would be a depressing note to leave this on, so. eiffel could not be an engineer, and i think even the thought of the work that would require would make him break out in hives, but he could be a mechanic, for whatever length of time it'd take him to get fired. and i think that would be hot. put him in another set of coveralls and get him greased up. that's what's really important.

[fma03envy]

Hm having thoughts about Reze

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 5

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Currently thinking this will have like 5-7 parts? (That was a nice fever dream. I am now thinking maybe 8-9?)

Max didn‘t wait until he was back at the hotel to call Colette. He was attached to his phone as soon as he got done with that horrible press conference. 

He really didn‘t care what anybody else had to say about that. As soon as he could, he called Colette.

It wasn‘t Colette that picked up though, it was Pascale, her mother.

"Max," she greeted him.

Max was surprised to hear Pascale's voice on the other end of the line. He had been expecting to hear Colette's voice, and hearing her mother instead sent a jolt of anxiety through him.

"How is she doing?" He asked. He didn't need to say more. Pascale understood.

"She's...she's not doing well," Pascale said wearily. He could hear the exhaustion in her voice. "She's been crying almost non-stop since the news broke."

Max closed his eyes, his heart clenching painfully at the news. The thought of Colette crying, of her being so upset and distressed...it was unbearable.

"Can I talk to her?" he asked, desperately needing to hear her voice.

He needed to hear that she was okay, that she was holding up. He needed to know that she was coping.

Somehow. 

There was a pause on the other end of the line, and Max held his breath as he waited for Pascale to respond. He could hear muffled voices in the background, and he knew that Pascale was likely talking to Colette.

"Maxie?"

Colette had cried. That was clearly obvious in her voice, how hoarse it was...how even these two syllable seemed to take so much effort from her, her voice hitching. He could hear her shaky breathing over the phone, clearly her trying to get a grip on herself and not worry him even more.

But that had become impossible the moment George Russell had decided to get completely bananas.

"Hey, liefje," he said softly. "How are you doing?"

Colette's voice caught on a sob, and Max's heart ached at the raw emotion in it. He could practically picture her, sitting in their living room, tears streaming down her face as she tried to hold it together.

"I'm...I'm not okay," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Max's heart clenched in his chest, and he desperately wished he was there with her. He wanted to hold her, to comfort her. But he could only listen.

"What can I do?" he asked, his voice thick with emotions. "How can I help you?"

He needed to do something, anything to ease her pain and make her feel better. "Do you want me to come home?" He asked her. "I'll do it, liefje. Say the word."

There was a long pause on the other end of the line. He could hear Colette breathing heavily, clearly trying to compose herself.

"No," she finally said, her voice sounding a bit more steady. "No, please don't. You have a race tomorrow. You need to focus."

Max's heart squeezed at her words. He wanted nothing more than to hop on the next plane back to Monaco and be with her. But he knew she was right. He couldn't just abandon his team and the race like that. "If you change your mind..." he trailed off.

"No, we are not doing that," Colette said shakily. "Your races are yours, and I'll be waiting once you come home."

"You are more important than any race ever could be," he disagreed sharply. More important than anything else to him. He loved her so much. "I want you to know that."

He needed her to know that. 

She had always been a pillar of support to him. Had never questioned how much of his time his career demanded. Had never once thrown it at his head in an accusatory way. She had always accepted it. Had supported him every step of the way, from his first practice in a Formula 1 car, through his first point finish, his first race win, four championships…

She had always supported him. 

But no race win…no trophy, no world champion title was ever going to be as important to him as Colette. 

He would happily give all of that up, if it meant that he got to come home to her. 

He heard her exhale shakily.  "I do know that," Colette said softly. "I know that. But...But even if you were here, you couldn't do anything but hold me. Everybody is..." she trailed off and he could hear another hitch in her breath. "Did you...Did you see what Arthur did?" She asked him, and he could hear the tears in her voice.

"I did, liefje," he agreed softly. "He shouldn't have done that without talking to you first."

"Or to you. This is your life too," Colette disagreed.

"Colette," he said carefully. "I don't care that the public knows. You were the one that wanted to keep this private, which was completely alright with me. I agreed to that. It didn't bother me, liefje. But I wouldn't have cared if it was public knowledge either. I am only upset with Arthur because he upset you."

Colette didn't answer. He could picture her sitting on their bed, cross legged, one hand resting on her baby bump…she took deep breaths, clearly trying to keep her tears at bay.

"I just...I feel so stupid," she mumbled, her voice barely above a whisper. "I feel so stupid...I shouldn't be so upset by this. But I am and I..." her voice trailed off.

"Hey," he interrupted gently. "You are allowed to be upset, liefje. You are allowed to feel however you feel," he reminded her carefully.​​

There was a knock at the door and he looked up to see Gemma stick her head into the driver’s room, a grimace on her face. "Can it wait?" He demanded from her, not caring at all, that he was being rude.

"No, it can't. George Russell had some more stuff to say," Gemma said hesitantly.

Colette must have heard it, because he got to hear another choked off sob from her.

"Liefje," he said softly. "I want you to let me deal with this, alright? Don't look online. Don't search it out. Just ignore it. Your only job right now is to take care of you and our baby," he told her fiercely. "Let us take care of the rest."

Colette let out another shaky breath on the other end of the line. He could hear her trying to compose herself, trying to push the sobs back.

Finally, she said quietly, "Okay," in a small, meek voice, and he hated how defeated she sounded.

"Go cuddle with the cats," he told her softly. "Let your Mom spoil you."

"M…Maman’s making hot cocoa," Colette offered weakly, and he could hear the smile in her voice.

It was faint, but it was there. And that was all he could hope for right now."I am jealous," he teased her lightly.

"I'd save you some, but it's too good to share," she teased back before her voice caught on another sob, and he knew that this was it. This was the end of her being able to converse with him.

"Hey," he said gently. "I love you. So much."

"I love you too," Colette whispered in a broken voice. "So much."

Max hated that he couldn't be there, he hated that he had to hang up. He just wanted to hold her, to remind her that everything was alright.

"I want you to do something for me," he told her in a firm voice. "I want you to take a bath. And a long one," he told her. "One of the nice lavender scented bubble bath, I always make fun of you about. And I want you to eat dinner. And I want you to watch some of those stupid tv shows you love, and for you to relax. And rest. Can you do that?"

"I...I'll try," Colette said weakly over the line. He could hear her crying getting slightly worse again, the realization that they were ending the call obviously hitting her.

"And then you will take the best nap. And cuddle with our cats," he continued. "Alright? You'll do all that for me?"

"Yes," she answered him, her voice breaking on that one word.

Max closed his eyes, his heart hurting as he took a deep breath. "I am going to hang up now. I'm sorry, love."

"I know," she whispered, and he could hear the desperation in her voice. The need to keep the phone line between them open. But he knew that she was tired and he knew that she was distraught. And he knew that she needed rest. He needed to let her go.

"I love you," he said fiercely. "I love you so damn much, liefje. I'll talk to you as soon as I can."

"I-I love you," Colette managed back, before her voice broke on a sob again. "More than anything. Please...be careful tomorrow, okay? Be careful."

"I will," he promised her. "I swear, I will be careful. I'll come home to you in one piece, okay? I promise."

"You better," she told him in a wobbly voice. It was half pleading, half joking, and it just about crushed him.

"I swear. I'll try my damn hardest," he promised her. "And when I get home? I promise I will hold you for hours. I won't let you go, liefje."

He hung up on her then. And then he turned to Gemma. "What could Russell possibly have said that I should care about it right now?"

"How about that you have spent the last 15 years living a lie and that he wouldn't want you to date his sister, because your girlfriend probably is the one dealing with all your anger issues?" Gemma offered drily.

Max looked at her in disbelief for a moment, his mind refusing to process her words immediately, they were so completely insane.

"What?" He finally asked, his voice coming out in a disbelieving croak. Gemma handed him her phone, a grimace on her face. And there it was in black written text. Screencaps of statements George Russell had made.

 None of it making any sense whatsoever. Max had no idea what the other driver had snorted that had sent him off the rocker like that.

"They tried to get Charles Leclerc to comment as well, but he said it was insulting and that he has not once worried about you and Colette, more the opposite," Gemma said quickly. "Everybody that has ever seen the two of you together knows that it's complete bullshit, Max."

Still. He swallowed.

"I would never lay a finger on her," he said weakly. Not ever.

Colette was...Colette was everything. Colette had been his safe place before he even knew what that was or that he needed one. 

He would rather cut off his own hand than to put a finger at her in anger.

Gemma stepped over to him and laid her hand on his shoulder. "Everybody knows that," she told him gently. "Everyone that knows you knows that you would never. Just like everyone knows that the other stuff Russell has said is nonsense as well."

Max closed his eyes, letting Gemma's words sink in. He knew that they were true. The people in his life, the people that knew him and Colette...they knew that those accusations were completely ridiculous. That even thinking he would ever hurt Colette was laughable.

"But..." he said quietly. "Social media won't care that it's complete crap."

"It'll blow over. You know the online world has the attention span of a goldfish," she said with a shrug. "We'll send the usual suspects to talk to the media tomorrow to make it clear that you neither have anger issues nor that anybody needs to worry about you laying a single finger on Colette," Gemma promised. "I know that this is hurtful, Max, but I think it just makes it very clear that everything that Russell has said has been completely made up."

Max leaned his head against the door behind him, his mind racing, trying to process everything. He knew she was right. That everything she was saying was reasonable. But it still hurt. It hurt that somebody would come at him and his relationship with Colette like that. Especially when it was so clear that they knew nothing about them.

"I'm going to call some people," Gemma told him gently and with a final squeeze on his shoulder left the room.

Max took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair, trying to process everything and calm his racing thoughts. He wanted to call Colette again. He wanted to explain again and again that he would never hurt her. That all of this was complete and utter bullshit.

But he didn't want to bother or upset her even more, if she had even been able to rest at all.

And he hated this. He hated this so much.

He really did. He hated that there was nothing he could do.

He hated that the next day was going to be a media circus. He hated that he was going to have to sit in a car for an hour and a half tomorrow, without being able to see or talk to her.

And most of all, he hated George Russell.

Bath. Lavender. Warm Water. And hot cocoa.

She felt like a child again.

Her Maman had been hovering around her all afternoon and early evening, fussing over her when she really didn't need it, but Colette was glad that her mother refused to leave her alone.

Especially when her mother tucked her into bed like she had done when she had been a wayward 6-year old. 

"Arthur didn't think," her mother said softly. "He didn't do this on purpose to hurt you."

Colette let out a shaky breath. "I know he didn't," she said thickly. "But I am just so mad at him. And it just...hurt," she admitted. It hurt more than she had thought.

"I know," her mother said softly.

Another shaky exhale, and Colette closed her eyes, just to keep the tears at bay.

"I knew it was going to come out one day," she admitted weakly. "But I never wanted it to come out like this. Not now.”

Bébé rumbled unerneath her skin, striking out to kick against her ribs once more. She laid her hand over where he had just kicked her. 

Her mother gently sat down next to her, gathering her in her arms and pulling her close. Colette melted into it and leaned into her Mom with a soft, shaky sigh.

"It wasn't right of Arthur to say anything," her mother told her quietly. "He had no right to share that picture. Nor to talk about your relationship. Not without talking to you about it first."

Colette swallowed back another bout of tears, hiding her face in her Mom's chest. "I know," she said, her voice breaking slightly. "I know, it wasn't his news to share, but...it's still just...it's just so upsetting."

Her mother ran a hand over her hair while the other circled her back in a soft, circular motion. "I know," her mother agreed, her voice kind and soft. "But this doesn't change anything. You know that, right? The important people already knew," she continued softly. "Your family and friends. They all know that Max and you are in a relationship."

A quiet nod, Colette still hiding her face in her mother’s chest, her fingers clinging onto her shirt.

"It's just...." she said weakly. "It still hurts. A lot."

Her mother's arms wrapped around her a little tighter, a gentle kiss placed atop her head. "I know," her Mom agreed again, gently rubbing Colette's back. "It hurts, and it sucks, and it's not fair that he didn't talk to you about it before. I'm sorry, Choupinette."

Colette swallowed again, and exhaled, trying to hold it together. But a few tears escaped anyway. "I just...I just wish that he hadn't. I feel so exposed now," she admitted in a half-whisper.

"I know," her Mom agreed again, letting Colette let out another round of quiet tears. "I know, Choupinette," her mother repeated, gently rubbing her back again, her arms tight around her.

Colette sniffled again, her emotions a tangled, swirling mess, and clung on tighter to her Mother. "I just...I just wish Max was here," she admitted in a broken whisper.v"He asked me if he should come home," she admitted softly.

Her mother’s hand ran gently up and down her back, still hugging Colette tight.

"What did you tell him?" she asked quietly.

Colette swallowed past the lump in her throat and breathed in shakily. "I told him to race. I told him I didn't want him to come home," she said shakily, more tears escaping her.

Her mother hummed quietly and hugged her a little tighter. "Why?" Her mother's voice was gentle and curious, no judgement and accusation to be found.

"Because I fell in love with a 12-year-old boy for whom racing was the most important thing in his life,” she answered, her voice soft. “Max has this...passion for it. This incredible love. And I promised myself then, that I was never going to be the one to take it from him," she explained softly. "I was never going to make him chose. Between me and racing."

And maybe that was also because for years...she had wondered if she was going to be the one of the two he would chose. 

Her mother was quiet behind her for a moment, only the soothing motion of her hand rubbing along Colette's back continuing.

And then her mother said, softly.

"You know he would chose you in a heartbeat, don't you?"

Colette buried her face further into her mother, her tears starting to flow again as she let her mother's words sink in.

Because she wanted to believe it. She really, really wanted to.

"He will never need to," she said simply. "He said ​​the same thing but…I would never take it away from him."

Her mother hummed again and tightened her arms around her a little.

"I know you wouldn't," she assured. "But he still wouldn't hesitate, love."

Colette took another shaky breath, trying to keep herself from completely falling to pieces just from the thought of it. It was true. She knew it deep in her bones. Max would drop everything to get to her, if she only asked. And it just made her feel like crying more.

"I just...I just miss him," she admitted in a sniffly voice, her nails digging in her mother's soft shirt.

Her mother's gentle hand was running over her hair again, trying to soothe her as best as she could. "I know, baby," she whispered. "You'll see him soon."

Colette huffed a breath against her mother’s chest, the thought both a comfort and a curse.

She wanted to see him. She wanted to crawl into his arms and just listen to him tell her everything was going to be okay, and believe every single word of it.

Another shaky inhale and exhale, and Colette's hands gripped her Mom's shirt, just to keep from completely falling apart.

It was all so overwhelming, with Max so far away, and just everything in general.

Her breath shuddered again when her mother's arms tightened around her once more, pulling her even closer to her chest, as if she was trying to protect her through sheer force of will.

Colette let her, burying her face in her Mom's soft chest and trying to hold it all together.

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in; but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

[hanglimi]

fireworks - yu jimin

y/n finally got to make jimin do what she wanted, and it ended in a night that the both of them would never forget.

this is a part two of this fic!

TAGS - jimin x f! reader, fluff, slight angst, college au

WORDCOUNT - 2500~

WARNINGS - swearing, suggestiveness, THE amusement park date,

A/N - heyyyy guys, i'm sorry i was gone for like a month and a half. will i ever be consistent? no! but atleast enjoy this fic!

“go on a date with me.” 

you know you didn’t phrase it like a question–if you had even wanted to in the first place. it was more of a demand, and considering the fact that the girl in front of you had practically offered herself up to you, of course you weren't going to ask nicely and give her the opportunity to decline.

“that’s all?” jimin wondered aloud, her tone made it feel like she was making fun of your request.

you raise an eyebrow, reaching your hand out towards her own, holding it briefly–as if to enunciate your feelings. 

“if you want it so bad i could ask for much, much worse.”

she flushed red at the words and quickly backed away from you, shaking her hand violently before hitting the wall behind her with the force of her unknown feelings.

“i lied!” she sputtered, hot on her feet, quick to take the elevator down to her level.

“i’m perfectly fine with just a date!” she yelled down the hall as she entered the metal box, not noticing the multitude of heads that turned to observe her odd behaviour.

“she didn’t give me her number,” you mumbled, shutting the door as you laughed to yourself due to her idiocy.

“i’m still trying to wrap my head around this,” aeri said, her eyes overlooking the school’s campus, deep in thought. 

“you’re going on a date.” there was a pause, then a slight laugh, “with y/n? the girl who goes for anything that moves?”

“it wasn’t really an option, aeri, more of an order.” jimin’s head was on minjeong’s lap, enjoying the security and comfort it was giving her in this time of need.

“and of course you followed because you like being ordered around,” ningning giggled, teasing her friend.

“yeah, jimin.” minjeong agreed, shaking her head. “you know you could’ve easily disagreed with her offer, right?”

“you guys don’t understand because you weren’t there standing in front of her. it was her tone of voice–the way she was looking at me, i felt like i was drowning in a sea of y/n-”

“that's enough.” ning drawled and rolled her eyes, “i don’t want to hear about your sexual fantasies.”

“it’s not sexual!” jimin stressed, getting up from minjeong’s lap with speed, smacking the poor girl in the face with her hair. “it’s just a crush. a school crush, to be exact.”

“and you guys have already progressed so far in the five minutes of seeing each other to be going on a date.” minjeong said, rubbing her cheek softly with a pout on her face in pain.

“who knew jimin had more game than me,” aeri sighed, looking up at the sky and wiping an invisible tear from her eye. she stood up suddenly, clasping her hands together to create an abrupt sound.

“so?” the group looked on at her in collective confused silence. 

“when is the date? we have to prepare you for this.” aeri paced around the group, staring jimin down.

“oh my god, i forgot to get her fucking number,” jimin groans in realisation, her palms pressing into her face as she let her head fall back down into the shorter girl’s lap. this time, minjeong pushed her away, not wanting a repeat of several seconds ago.

“well then go get it, dumbass”

you let out a deep sigh as you stretched, raising your arms over your head, hearing a couple cracks release in your body as the morning sun rays forcefully entered your room through one of the closed curtains.

it was one of those rare days– the days where you weren’t scrambling to throw a party later in the evening. the days where you realised just how lonely you actually were when people weren’t drinking or smoking pot in your room. it’s not something you were particularly proud of, but either way, it was the only way you had succeeded in making lasting friends. even though half the things you and your friend group talked about with red eyes and running noses wouldn’t be remembered the following days. 

but thinking too hard about it was making your heart beat weirdly, and your lungs take in smaller amounts of air, so you ignored the thoughts and rubbed at your eyes as you made your way to your couch to catch up with your morning doom scrolling.

ten minutes in, and you were somewhat interrupted by a knock at the door, one which started off timidly but gained in volume the longer they knocked.

“whoever’s there, there's no party today!” you yelled, hoping the message got across.

after a pause, the knock sounded again, as loud as the other one ended, and you grumbled as you got up to go open it and tell the person off.

an unexpected face appeared in front of you, and you couldn't help but let out a wide smile. you could feel her eyes raking your body up and down, and while you did like a little bit of appreciation, you didn’t like how your skin started to heat up at her gaze, so you stopped her drooling short.

“what a nice gift for me at 1 in the afternoon.” you said, jimin standing in front of you, her phone held tightly in her grasp.

she slightly untensed at your words, and cocked her head. “you look like you just woke up, but it's literally 1pm.”

“a girl does what a girl needs to do” you shrug in response.

she shakes her head, and instead hands you her phone, open to a new contact page. 

“a woman with such little words, but such big actions.” you giggle, grabbing her phone, entering in your contact information. “i can get behind that.”

you hand her phone back and she just stands there, looking anywhere but your eyes. 

you raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to leave you to your devices.

“so, what’s your favourite first date spot? food-”

“oh don’t worry baby, i’ll be planning the date. just sit tight as i figure things out.”

you regret all your choices as you frantically search up on google “first date ideas.”

it’s not that you’d never gone on a date before. (you had only been on one, and honestly, it didn’t really count because the girl had to leave early anyways.) it's just that you had never gone on a date with a girl you liked this much.

jimin was an enigma to your brain–like fitting a square piece into a circle hole. she turned your heart inside and out, twisting and wringing it dry, and it’d last you through the whole day. the small amount of interactions you’ve had until this point have kept an eternal smile on your face as you create scenarios in your mind before sleeping. it’s never been like this before, and it’s definitely stressing, and scaring you. 

the flirty facade you’d been using on her can only last so long. and you just know it’d run out by the time you're on this date.

“not what I was expecting when you said you’d plan it all out.” jimin marvelled at the amusement park in front of her eyes, twisting and turning rails high up in the sky. 

“is it not to your liking?” while the way you said it had a teasing tone to it, you genuinely felt insecure as she looked around, viewing the experience.

“you know that's not what i meant.” she said, turning towards you, and gazing at your outfit. you were simply wearing a pink shirt and shorts (quite short shorts, but shorts all the same), but the way she was eating you up made you feel as though you had shown up naked.

you simply pushed her limp body towards the ticket line. one; to advance to the actual fun part of the date, and two; to get her damn eyes off of you.

the night was young, and you could tell jimin was excited by the way she was pulling your hand towards each of the activities, the smile on her face never fading. the joy she was exuding was enough to make your night as you simply watched her like a puppy observing its owner having fun. 

she looked back towards you as she ran ahead, her smile so wide it made your own lips curve up. the wind was hitting her face, making her hair flow in the same direction–all that made her look even more beautiful in your eyes. the tight feeling in your chest hadn’t gone away all night, and it wasn’t something you were used to. it was annoying you, because every time you got near the girl, your brain short circuited, your breathing close behind. this wasn’t like you, but you couldn’t say that you minded that much.

“let’s play this one y/n!” the girl screamed ahead of you, using both her hands and jumping up and down to wave you towards her. you let out a breath of happiness, and increased your pace, ignoring the tug of your heartstrings.

“this one?” you coughed, analysing the game. It was one of those ones that were bound to scam you out of your money. completely impossible, but you don’t think that’s why jimin was so eager to play it. 

the aim of the game was that one person had to wear a blindfold, holding the water gun up to the target’s level. the other player was to stand behind them, listing directions for the shooter to listen to and follow. this wasn’t the complicated part of the game–the game in itself wasn’t complicated at all honestly, just rigged. the part that got jimin so excited, so bouncy and giggly, was where the player who was directing the shooter had to wrap their arms around the other’s waist. (they definitely didn’t have to, and jimin only told you the truth after finishing the game.)

jimin was standing very close behind you. you could feel her hot breath on your neck, the hairs all over your body rising at the feeling. the clerk at the game stood there, an eyebrow raised at the your positions, but started the game anyway.

miss after miss, swear after swear, and you had ended the game with 2 points. a high score and the only score for the both of you. the ghost of her hands were still around your waist as the clerk signalled the game ending. you laughed at a comment jimin had made as you pulled the blindfold off of your face, shaking your head to properly get your hair out of your face. she stopped talking and looked at you for a quick second, before looking away and pulling you towards another game, thanking the man that stood behind the counter.

the two of you didn’t notice the clerk’s slight smile as he looked at the both of you, giggling and running away from his stand.

“young love,” he muttered into the night.

"no ferris wheel?” jimin asked you as you urgently pulled her along with you. she had dragged you to way too many stupid rides and games. well, they weren’t stupid, they were actually fun, but the whole reason you planned the date here was going to happen soon, and you had no time to waste anymore

“too boring,” you said, glancing back at her. “and i may just be deathly afraid of heights.” she laughed heartily, and you couldn’t help but grin widely at that.

you finally reached your final destination, which was an area of flat grass, where hundreds of other people sat, preparing for the show. you led her far off from any other people, and helped her sit down on the ground before lowering yourself too.

“so what did you bring me here for?” she asked, a questioning look in her eyes. she had hope in you–after all, today was the most fun she had had in days considering the amount she was studying beforehand. the grudge jimin held inside from you blasting music all day long was practically long gone. it was barely a thought she even remembered after spending this night with you.

“you trust me, right?” you stared at her in the eyes, holding her cheeks in your hands. she felt them warm up at the contact and nodded her head. “then just wait and see.”

so the two of you waited, and waited for what felt like eternity–which you wouldn’t have minded spending with jimin by your side–before you could hear people shouting in glee. you pointed upwards, redirecting jimin’s gaze to the sky, just as the first firework popped.

honestly, you think you watched the girl’s face more than the actual firework show, but the way her face lit up at each one gave you much more joy than any emotion gunpowder exploding could evoke in your body. she turned to you after a bit, and you swore you saw tears in her eyes before she hit your shoulder lightly and told you to watch the fireworks too. you listened to her for about 5 seconds, before turning to her again, capturing her face and drawing it pore for pore, line for line in your mind. that’s something that no matter how high or drunk you got, you would never forget.

the two of you had large grins on your faces as you walked out the amusement park exit, hands ghosting on top of the other.

“thanks for, you know,” you stand there and don't extrapolate, rubbing the back of your head in shyly. for the first time, you weren’t able to look into Jimin's eyes. there was something about the girl–something that was making the person you’ve hid inside for so long come back again.

“why are you thanking me?” jimin said, perplexed, and she didn’t like how she was staring at the side of your face, not at all.

“just for, like, actually coming out with me tonight.” you let out with a suspicious tightness in your chest, the intensity of her eyes was too much for you at this moment. “it was a great hangout-”

“hangout?” she cut you off, a frown forming on her face. “the deal was a date. i came out here with the mindset that this was a date.” 

“well, it could totally be a date!” you waved your hands in front of her, eyes wide as saucers–your entire demeanour screamed asking for forgiveness. “i just didn’t think you’d want it to be one. considering this wasn’t really done out of your will,” you mumbled, finally facing your body to look at her.

“i could’ve easily declined your request, y/n.” she stepped closer to you.

“i did this out of my own free will, y/n. i did it because I actually like you.” 

you froze at the comment, and the heat that was spreading all over your body decided to come up to your face, causing your cheeks to flush and a smile to break through your tight lipped mouth. 

“i’m glad,” you whispered in her ear, pulling her towards you until she was flush against your frame. the square piece that wasn’t fitting before had finally forced its way into the round hole–and you couldn’t have been any happier.

“because i definitely like you too.” you finished, and you swore that that night, another firework–not included in the show–had blown up in your heart.

A/N - why did i write this like one of them was going to die 😭😭

[niechys]

I'm sorry. I'm so not sorry but also so so so sorry. But I can't stop thinking about it.

from @keferon tf mecha universe

(Also if you don't want me tagging you please do tell. I didn't want to bother, just want to credit cuz it's glorious)

it's because of this post.

Happened after This event

I'm sorry in advance for all the grammatical errors.

I also don't know wo else would be the science guy to take this position of explaining the thing. I feel like there has to be someone else that's not Shockwave too. Sorry to all of Brainstorm's fans out there. I think he's not a bad guy. Just too excited for the possibilities.

---------------------------------

Something lingers inside that mech. Although there is no hard evidence of a human soul or spirit or ghost haunting it, most people who had anything to do with Vortex agreed that it was best to believe its first pilot never leave the cockpit of his mech. After all, nothing else would explain the freak accidents constantly killing all but the latest pilot.

Human are prone to be superstitious. It's normal to believe in something like ghost in the machine, really.

But one would not think a man of sciences such as Shockwave would take the rumors seriously. No one knows if the scientist really believe it or not. He

Regardless of the rumors' validity, it sure did inspired him.

"You're kidding me" Swindle stood, blinked, looked at the incomplete repair of Blurr's mech then back to the technician in front of him. Brainstorm was prattling on at speed faster than Blurr's F1 record.

"Not kidding. Why would I kid? This is a great breakthrough. Lives can be saved and there are much we could do with the tech, I don't know why it never occurs to me or Shockwave that the neural link tech could have been used in this way---"

Swindle turned his brain off during all the scientific mumbo jumbo all and only really heard him again at "It's nothing all that weird really. Some people disagree, but you can't go against Shockwave when he put his mind to it. If you think about it, it's just like Vortex"

"What?" Swindle blinked again.

"Vortex. That mech, I mean the mech's first pilot, crazy psycho, crazy good at slicing up kaijus"

"I know who Vortex was. I worked here when he started piloting. What did that asshole has to do with this?"

"Oh, everything. If, a big if. If that guy's consciousness was still in the mech like people been saying"

"Haunted" Crossing his arms, he narrowed his eyes at Brainstorm. The technician corrected him.

"Lingering consciousness. Either way, Blurr is in much better shape than Vortex. Brain still intact . So is most part of his body. We wired him to the neural link to allow him control of the mech. So when we are ready, he can still go about his task from within that mech"

"What . The . Fuck"

Swindle's eyebrow twitched. No, it's NOTHING like Vortex's case. The asshole died and probably refused to leave this world. Blurr, on the other hand, was still alive. Sure he wouldn't be the same. Maybe he would be scarred for life, paralyzed from the waist down or something. But hardwiring a person to a mech?

"So, you were working with Blurr before now, correct? That's why we would like to bring you in as his handler. Not like you have to do maintenances and stuff, just take care of him and, the publicity and all that. Like being his manager" With that, Brainstorm handed him a folder before excusing himself.

The guy wasn't bad most of the time, Swindle thought. But sometimes, just sometimes, his passion for science overshadowed the moral compass.

Like how he wished that his own greed would take precedented in his state of mind. They must have thought he would jump at the chance to milk more profit from Blurr. Hell, he wouldn't be feeling this bad if that was the case.

He wanted to refuse. Profit be damn, even he didn't feel right. Blurr saved them. He should be allowed to preserved his humanity, his dignity. Not preserving his brain in a jar inside a mech. If the pilot died and the mech is reparable, you find a new pilot. If the pilot lived but can no longer pilot, you also find a new pilot. Not..this.

But refusing means they will bring someone else on board to manage Blurr. He's pretty sure he wouldn't like that.

Fuck

------------------

**note. Blurr is not reduced to brain in a jar. Most of his body is intact, just hard wired to the mech.

I tink they can add robot parts to him later all stuff. But since they probably value Blurr as a money cow pilot first. If they can't use his face, they can still use his mech.

Sorry again ehehehehehehehehehe

[mysteriouswolf]

I'm going to start this off with saying it hurts. It fucking hurts. It hurts so, so much, and there's parts of me that still desperately want to look for a way out, to make him not the bad guy, but there isn't one.

Wilbur Soot is a fucking asshole. A piece of absolute trash, and it hurts. Because I've looked up to him for so many years now. He's been such an inspiration and comfort in my life, from dealing with issues I have myself, and giving me all the more reason to stay here. And now he's turned out to be like this. To anyone who's been following what I reblog about him, it's conflicting, because my thoughts seem to change by the minute. But I'm hoping in saying this I can clear my head and make a definite decision.

I will never be supporting Wilbur ever again. No matter how much better he gets, I don't care. What he did was unexcusable, and if you think otherwise, you can fuck off of my blog. His "apology" wasn't an apology, and for the most part all he did was defend himself. The responses from other content creators have pushed me to agree that yes, fuck Wilbur. He's an ass. I think I've stated this a couple times.

What he did to them, especially Niki and Tommy was inexcusable as well from what we know, and since Tommy is going on tour in about a week (if he's still going/up to it) PLEASE no one harass him with questions, or how he feels. Please, just leave him alone. I'm sure it's a lot to process for him too- even more than us.

I've seen some posts saying how we should be angry at other content creators for not speaking out sooner, but some of them have hinted at it/tried. And others haven't known enough, or didn't want to start causing something against him. The same reason Shelby didn't want to say his name. Maybe they couldn't. Please leave them alone.

The last thing I would like to say, is maybe controversial. If you disagree with me, I don't care, this is purely my opinion.

You can still enjoy his character. Your stories, your artwork, all that you've done with it. Don't feel bad about keeping it up, because that's yours now. You've worked so hard on it, and cared for that character so much that it's become far more yours than his. In regards to his music, I know his songs have provided a lot of us with comfort, including me. It's going to be really hard for me to stop listening to something I loved, but I'm going to make the effort- especially with his solo albums. Also, please don't harass the other members of Lovejoy. From what we know, they're lovely people, and if you're going to stop listening to them, great, do that, but don't harass them. Please. And if you do choose to listen to them, there's ways you can listen to music without supporting him- in my opinion covers are the best way to do that, but that one is up to you.

To wrap this up, I'd just like to say...please don't send death threats, or threats in general to anyone involved in this situation- including Wilbur. Leave them alone. Please.

This is subject to change if we get more information, but for now and the foreseeable future, this is my stance. I wish everyone hugs and comfort. This sucks. I'm sorry.

[wilkkio]

I love fic where Erik is a single father of 3 kids, Pietro and Wanda being kids and Lorna a toddler, and then Charles is like "oh what cute children you have let be me the stepfather".

But I need fics where Erik is a single father of 3 teenagers. The twins being 17 and Lorna 13 (something like that).

Wanda is the older sister who carries the whole family on her shoulders. She makes a cup of tea for Erik when he's having a mental breakdown, she helps Lorna (and sometimes Pietro) with her homework, she makes dinner when Erik comes home late. She's the one noticing that her dad might like the professor Charles Xavier, and she knows how alone and single her dad is so she makes plans to have Charles around.

Pietro is the teenager who wakes up at 3pm during the weekend and eats the whole fridge in one night. Sometimes Erik wants to shake him and yell "PLEASE FIND A PURPOSE IN YOUR LIFE" but he's too tired to do that. But Pietro is also the cool older brother that comes to pick up Lorna at school and tells her things about "adult life" sometimes he even takes her with him to hang out with his friends (Lorna loves that). He has a very conflicted relationship with his dad... Wanda and him are very close even if they have very different personalities.

Lorna is... A REBELLIOUS TEENAGER (yes I have an obsession with that). She's 13 and has cool older siblings who are 17 and they can go out late, go party, drive a car. So she's a bit jealous of that and tries everything to show her dad she's old enough to do everything like her siblings. She's in her phase "I'm my own person and I'm gonna show it to you by disagreeing with everything you're gonna say." Sometimes she teams up with Pietro to annoy Erik. But the thing is, Lorna loves her father, she wants to be like him and make him proud, so when she annoys him too much she feels guilty and asks Wanda to help her make an "I'm sorry" card. Some of Lorna's friends have a crush on Pietro, and she's annoyed by that. She's very possessive, protective of her family, and doesn't want to "share" them, so when she hears Wanda talk about a potential boyfriend for their dad she makes plans to make Charles go away.

Erik is tired, exhausted even. He tries to be a good father, but he feels like failing even more everyday. Wanda is the daughter every parent which for, she's kind, helpful and patient. But Erik feels like she grew up too fast because he was failing at being a single father, he really feels guilty of that. He also feels bad that he didn't succeed in giving Pietro a purpose in his life, or any kind of project, he's really hard on Pietro because he wants him to do great things and be a better man than him. He sees Lorna a bit like his second chance, a second chance to not fail at being a father, so he forgives her way faster than he forgives Pietro when they go into trouble.

[I might actually write a fic based on that]

[cripplecharacters]

hi there, i really appreciate this blog! i was wondering if you had any advice when it comes to writing characters who use mobility aids (manual wheelchair and cane) and things that are like, pet peeves or cringey to see written? other than the big ones like “wheelchair bound” or having people just grab their chair or otherwise be disrespectful. i’m thinking more “little things that make it seem like the author is clueless” lol. thank you!

Hey!

You can check out our main #mobility aids or #wheelchairs or #canes tags for the general info. If you have a more specific question, feel free to send another ask.

I will talk about my own cane pet peeves because there's definitely some:

The most glaring, obvious, painfully clueless thing I have somehow seen multiple times is when the writer/artist doesn't understand the difference between a mobility cane and a white cane. Usually in the form of giving their blind character the same kind of stick I use for my mobility issues. Of course, a person could need both for different disabilities. That very much happens. However, it's absolutely never the case in this kind of scenario. This one is an example of a lack of basic research so bad that it circles back to being kinda funny.

The writer not knowing which side the cane would go on for the character. Obviously, in real life, there's a whole lot of hyper-specific scenarios why someone could use it the "wrong" way and why it would work for them specifically, some users can also use either hand for the cane; it all depends on why they use it. The problem that I have is when the writer doesn't have a single clue about any of it and just gives their character with a bad knee and nothing else the cane on the same side. Again, shows lack of basic research.

As a certified knob cane hater, I can't just not talk about them here. They're so bad. So non-functional. Don't serve their function as a mobility device because they literally aren't one. That's a fashion accessory. Unless your character has a wrist of steel and doesn't mind that the aid meant to help with stability does the exact opposite, I guess.

I know a bunch of people will disagree with me, but I think the whole sword cane thing sucks. Sorry. The only time I don't roll my eyes on this one is when the writer is also a cane user. I always felt like it checked out two tropes that I hate, the "abled character pretends to be disabled and is actually dangerous" and the "abled writer thinks mobility aids are boring and has to stick a gun in them to justify their existence".

The cane that somehow makes the user non-disabled. Sounds contradictory, I know. I mean the kind of scenario where the character is Weak and Frail but then they get the cane and are suddenly just fighting, running, jumping, whatever. Did the author forget what the cane is used for? Obviously it will depend on the character's disability how much the cane mitigates symptoms, but this writing choice always feels bizarre to me. My cane is here so that I'm not in as much pain or to help my gait disorder, it certainly doesn't turn me into an abled man who just happens to have a stick in hand.

All these tired old person or similar jokes/comparisons are probably not that funny. We get it, older people use canes. It's not even cringy or whatever, it's just so unbelievably boring it's hard to react to it with anything else than an eye roll anymore.

Apologies for the extremely late reply. I hope it helps,

mod Sasza

[bayofwolves]

i dunno, if i was abeke (or rollan, or any of them), knowing shane was out there somewhere, i would be constantly looking over my shoulder waiting for him to reappear. so the moment a mysterious masked dude shows up and saves my life, i'm asking myself, even if only for a moment, "what if?"

i find it hard to believe that abeke and rollan didn't at least suspect that king was really shane before he revealed himself. like, i dunno. i get that king's redcloak disguise was supposed to be really good. and it had been a while since they'd seen him last. but if 11 y/o me could figure it out in immortal guardians, surely abeke could?

it would have been so cool if there'd been a part where the thought started to form in abeke's head. or she talked to rollan about it. and isn't rollan's whole thing supposed to be intuition? maybe he'd raise the possibility before abeke, who might have written off her suspicions as her just being paranoid and emotional. idk. just a thought.

[thepenguinweeb]

Hi (^·^). I would love to request for Bucciarati x F!Reader. The reader is part of his team and is really close to him, but they’re stuck in this thin line where they’re not sure if they’re just friends or something more. There’s this unspoken tension between them that’s hard to ignore, and the others in the group definitely notice, teasing them about it. However, Bruno and the reader always brush it off and insist there’s nothing going on between them.

Feel free to have fun with how it all plays out. I trust your creativity (^。^)★彡

`` Just friends.. of course. ``

[ ♡ Bruno Bucciarati x fem!reader ]

[ ♡ You've been apart of Bruno's team for a long time, and it is undeniable that the two of you have a certain.. bond. You can't help but wonder if you're imagining things, or if he really thinks of you that way. ]

[ ♡ Requested by: @sxturncloud <3 !! ]

[ ♡ A/N: Sorry for the lack of posts recently, burnout hit hardd D: I'm trying to catch up with the requests in my inbox but it'll take a bit of time probably.. anyway, thank you for requesting, hope you enjoy! ]

Divider by @/cafekitsune <3

"No, no- you don't get it. That's the complete opposite of what you were supposed to do!"

Just another day at Libeccio with the gang. You listened as Fugo shouted at Narancia, staring daggers at the teen and his notebook, which was filled with pitifully incorrect calculations.

"Hey! It's not my fault you're this bad at explaining stuff!"

You sighed, letting your head slump. The pair's argument continued on for a bit longer, and you wished you'd packed some aspirin in your bag with each moment that passed.

It was Abbachio who eventually stepped in.

"Can you two shut up and stop arguing for five minutes? You're giving me a headache.."

Fugo and Narancia were both clearly reluctant, but it only took one look at the man to know if they didn't stop now, he would not hesitate to beat their asses. So, they settled down.

You couldn't help but let out a relieved sigh and shoot a grateful glance at Abbachio.

The door to the restaurant opened, and your lips unconciously curved into a smile. Bucciarati had finally arrived.

"I'm sorry I was late," he began once he made his way over to his team's table. Your eyes met for a split second and he gave you a smile, then took a seat next to you.

"I hope the others didn't bother you too much while I was gone," he said, leaning closer to you without even meaning to. Despite the usual strict expression he put on, he always wore a smile when he was in your presence.. must be because you were such close friends, right?

You shook your head and returned the smile. "No-" you started, then glanced at Fugo and Narancia, who were still sulking from their earlier argument. "Not too much," you said instead.

For a moment, the two of you sat in a comfortable silence. You'd gotten lost in his beautiful blue eyes - staring at him as if he was the best thing you've ever seen.. maybe he was.

No, what were you thinking? You and Bruno were strictly friends. Good friends. Nothing more.

Mista cleared his throat in an obnoxiously loud way, clearly just to get your attention. "Uh, not to interrupt your coupley activities, but.. we're still here, you know."

You snapped out of your daze and immediately shot a glare in Mista's direction at his implications. Coupley activities.. was coupley even a word?

"Mista.." Bruno sighed, rubbing his temple. "I thought we'd discussed this already. Me and Y/N are not in a relationship."

"You sure act like you are," Narancia put in. You stared at him in annoyance, half-expecting Fugo to make a comment about how inappropriate and disrespectful it was to say such a thing about his superior, but even he was quiet.

It was in that moment you had to realize that nobody disagreed with that sentiment.

"You guys are ridiculous.. we're just friends," you protested.

"Oh, come on! The only thing you are is in denial," Mista exclaimed. "Even the Pistols can see it, and they're a stand."

You went on to glare at the man in annoyance, which only intensified upon seeing Giorno give a brief nod in agreement. You crossed your arms and rolled your eyes, realizing you weren't getting any backup.

Suddenly, you felt a hand resting on your shoulder. "Don't bother with them," Bruno told you. You looked back at him with a nod, any previous irritation you had seemingly vanishing.

Mista let out another loud groan. "Aaand there they go again..."

[daenysx]

hii, rockstar!reader here, i just love the way you wrote them!!! can i request more pretty please? maybe reader is too sick to perform and has to postpone a show she was really looking foward to? and james tries to cheer her up?

thank you for requesting, i hope you like this one too!! (if you wanna check the first fic i wrote for bodyguard!james x rockstar!reader, it's here, but this is not really a second part so you can read them separately)

bodyguard!james potter x rockstar!reader ♡

"james, i have to."

"tell me your reasons without coughing and i will accept, sweetheart."

this is the third time you try to leave your bed. james disagrees, you act like you can run to the stage and sing your songs like you always do, but well- you can't. you can't even form two sentences without your throat bothering you, endless coughs and teardrops complete the sickness trio.

you are sad, your body hurts and not being on the same side with james doesn't help. you put your head back to your pillow, your eyes are begging to be closed. it's so hard, being betrayed by your own body when you have somewhere else to be.

james stands next to your bed, he has his usual attire. he bends down, reaches the same level as your face. you look at him with sad eyes, hoping he'll do something. he takes your hand in his hand, gives your fingers a comforting squeeze.

"i'm really sorry." james says. "i know how much you wanted to play here."

you can't help a tear rolling down on your cheek. it makes your breathing even harder, you sit up to get some air in your lungs. james is on his knees next to your bed, he wanders a soft hand on your back.

"please, don't cry." he says, he sounds really really upset. "you'll make yourself worse, calm down, angel."

"i hate being sick." you say. he gives you a smile that says he knows. he's your bodyguard, he is always ready to protect you. it's difficult for him to see you unwell when he can't do anything about it.

"okay." james starts, voice determined. he rubs a gentle thumb on your tears to dry them. you are focused on his touch and for a moment you forget what you are doing. "we both should be calm if we want you better as soon as possible."

you nod. he's helping, you should do your part. you can't lift your body from bed but you can at least show him you care about his words.

"you need to eat something before taking your medications." he says as he helps you lie down. "anything you want? we can order soup."

he walks through the room to get the meds doctor gave you. he is moving quickly, thinking quickly like it's an operation for saving you from bad guys. he brings you a clean, thin tank top to change into, you manage to wear it without making it hard for james. he opens the window only for a few minutes to get you some fresh air, fixes your sheets without moving you too much. in these 5 minutes after he offers you food, he fixes the entire room for you without even trying too hard.

when he finally finishes the little things on the list he has on his mind, he finally comes next to you. you motion for him to sit, sadness lingers in your eyes but you do feel better. "thank you, james." you say quietly. "you don't have to-"

"come on, sweetheart." he cuts your sentence with a small smile. "you know i'm not doing all of these only because i'm your bodyguard."

you nod, he holds your hand. he looks at you like you're gonna break, like you are someone precious. he pushes your hair back with his free hand, you can see his gentle eyes through his glasses.

"my voice is terrible." you say, just to change the topic. "it doesn't even feel like my voice."

"there's no way i'd ever think your voice is terrible. you'll be better soon, i promise." he says, he means every word. "you'll have a show here one day."

you try to stay strong. you can handle it. if james says you'll be better, then you have to believe him. you give his fingers a weak squeeze. "so you think my voice is cool?" you ask, james relaxes finally when he hears the teasing tone.

"you now have the deep, scratchy voice of a rockstar, angel. you can give me a little concert after you finish your soup, if you want."

you nod, your mind is too tired and foggy from sickness. james tells you a few soup options after that, and you go with your usual choice. he orders it for you, gives you a cool glass of water when you wait for the food.

your throat finally feels a bit better, you realize it when you wake up from the nap you took after your soup and medications. you can at least swallow without hurting. james is fast asleep on the chair he carried next to your bed, his hand still holds yours. you don't move to let him sleep more, it's uncomfortable for him but he once told you he can sleep at anywhere in any position so you trust his word.

you try to go back to sleep, looking at your hero. you can't help but stroking the back of his hand with you thumb. "do you feel better?" james whispers, already awake but still in his sleeping position.

"yes." you whisper back. "you can sleep next to me if you want. i promise i won't cough on you."

he moves under the darkness of your room. he got rid of his jacket hours ago and he quickly settles down on your bed after he puts his glasses on your nightstand. he's more brave when it's dark, you realize. you like this new progress.

he pulls you to his arms, his chest becomes your new pillow. he holds you closer, until your breathing goes normal. "you can cough anytime you want, angel. i have a good immune system."

you smile against his chest. it's the best sleep you had in weeks when you finally close your eyes.

[arom-antix]

Hey, just wanted to reach out to say that I found you pointing out and calling this person was really great and you shouldn't have apologized. It was incredibly true what you said, and to be honest it seems out of touch with the reality of a great deal of the japanese fandom, the nuances and their culture. Also, it was as you pointed out, extreme and may I say rude. I want to mention too that the way it was written, as if entitled of the knowledge and the 'explanation' made it all worse in context of the 'fucked up'. The original poster always gets away by using the 'well-written academic'' statement of their 'metas' as an excuse to do or say and make everyone else agree and if not, uses victim narrative and discourses exactly selecting wording for people to agree on it or feel bad.

I don't know if they tagging you in the way they did made you reblog and apologizing/backing up, but no one thought bad about you pointing it out. On the contrary, a lot of people had been bullied and discriminated by this person when they called them out/disagreed going onto lenghts of sending their friends to harass people, and the other persons can't even defend themselves because they are effectively blocked. To quite a few people in the fandom has been done, even accusing them as 'acephobes' (when they're not) or even Nazis by spreading lies. So yeah, I just wanted to say that. I think you were right to call them out publicly.

Thank you very much for this ask. To be completely honest I agree with everything you said here and don't actually feel bad about pointing anything out. I mainly apologised because I didn't want any potentially poor phrasing from my side to cause unnecessary hostility and because I myself have gripes with this person's behaviour but didn't want to cause a scene.

My honest opinion is that they have a serious issue with taking accountability for their own mistakes and highly overestimate their own intellect. If you're reading this, @thegirlwhorideslikeasamurai, sorry if I seem harsh, but it's true. I saw your post lamenting how you're the only academic meta writer / fan in the fandom and I didn't interact then because I honestly do not care enough to start that drama but with the information Blonndiec has just given me, I think it's necessary that someone calls you out.

You're not an academic. You're not beyond the mental capabilities of other fans. You're actually incredibly childish in your metas and analyses and I am not kidding when I say that I was halfheartedly writing essays more academic than every analysis I've seen from you when I was barely a teenager. I don't know how old you are and I frankly don't care. You're not as clever as you think you are.

Also, don't think I didn't notice that you didn't reblog my correction (link here to my correction and here to their "response" for those who didn't see that exchange) of your post so that you could control what your followers saw of the exchange. You're the opposite of an academic. You control information to tailor the narrative, you don't cite your sources properly if at all, you don't format your posts in anything close to how an academic analysis would be, you make unbased claims, you reference posts and canon material without in any way indicating where that information is from, you reference your own (equally unacademic) metas and your conclusions from them without indicating what post it's from or that it's your own theory this new one is based on and instead present it as a common fact, and I could go on and on and on. Your posts are also riddled with logical fallacies and you talk in absolutes and opinions when there's no canon basis to claim such things. I'm sorry, but that's not academic in the slightest.

To be clear, you don't have to be an academic to post on the Internet. You don't have to be anything at all. You could up front be a genuine idiot with no remorse and that's fine. But when you claim to be an academic and also put down the rest of the fandom for not being on your level, you have to be able to back that up. It'd still make you sound like a prick but at least your arrogance would have a basis. It currently does not.

I haven't personally seen the discussions that Blonndiec is referencing and I'm not going to claim anything definitive (because that would be unacademic of me, take notes) but if what they're saying is true and did happen as described, which I have empirical, if anecdotal, evidence to believe could very well be (a friend of mine has personally been blocked by you after they criticised you without actually mentioning your name which I of course can't prove is the reason for the block but the timing is awfully convenient), you should know that you should be ashamed of yourself.

If there's context missing, feel free to enlighten me and call out any incorrect accusations. You have every right to defend yourself. However, I encourage you to cite your sources since you're such an academic. If you don't, then it's just your word against Blonndiec and anyone else who might comment's word and that doesn't prove anything. Don't misunderstand, acephobia and nazi rhetoric should absolutely be called out but only if it's actually happening. False accusations can ruin lives. I hope you know that.

I'm not a fan of calling people out publicly and, again, thank you for this ask, Blonndiec. But considering many of the issues I've personally seen and those I've been informed of by second hand sources were posted publically, I don't really feel bad about calling this out. I could do a full breakdown of just the insulting "academic" comments alone and how there's no academia to be found in said academic metas and, Samurai, if you give me reason to, I will show exactly what I mean point by point (and academically just to give you an example of even low level academia).

If you respond to this, do it in a reblog. That's what a real academic would do. If I'm wrong and you can prove it, you'd have no reason to not show my post in your rebuttal. If I'm right, you'd have every reason to be upfront about your mistakes and how you intend to rectify them. There's nothing wrong with being wrong but there's a lot wrong with refusing to admit to it in a way that lets others peer review you (academic thing, look it up) and come to their own conclusions about the situation. That's what you did when you just @'ed me instead of reblogging my response. A true academic wouldn't hide a peer review. You'd know that if you were one.

I swing in many academic spaces and yet that doesn't make me any kind of expert and I don't claim to be one because I'm not. But since you want to be one so badly, reblog this with a response and show us all how smart you are. I'm dying to know what your academic take on this is.

[god-syndicate-if]

I don't know if this is an unpopular opinion, but I think I respectfully disagree with the last anon.

I mean Ares just has naturally violent feelings and tendencies towards everything that pisses them off. Yes, feeling the urge to hit people when you're mad isn't a "good" urge to have but it's consistent with the character, that's how Ares is and they feel it indiscriminately towards everyone.

If you're playing as a professional boxer then punching someone will all your strength is going to hurt them either way, it doesn't matter much if they're a man or a woman, because you're going to do a lot of damage either way. I don't particularly think that it's "worse" to inflict harm on a person just because they're a woman. In my eyes, a professional boxer could hurt anyone badly, and to me, inflicting harm on a man is the same as doing it to a woman because they're both equally bad. So I don't think the lesson should be "don't hit that RO because she's a woman," but rather "Don't hit ANY RO because hurting your partner is always bad and it shouldn't matter what gender they are."

But like you said, feeling the urge is not the same as actually doing it. I think it makes sense for Ares to be feeling these feelings towards everyone/anyone, regardless of gender. You can't control what emotions and thoughts pop up, but the difference is that we have some control on when to act on them or not act on them.

(Plus, even fem dame is probably not exactly defenseless, they're still a god with healing and powers, and have a lot more going on than an average human who can't stand up for themselves)

So I did delete the ask that you're referring to so most people reading this wont get the full context of what the previous person said. but Essentially yeah. There are a lot of themes in this project I'm working with. Violence being bad and thoughts not equally action are two that kind of come up a lot. Hell the entire point of the project is how violence is bad and you shouldn't do it even if you really want to. Like if you didn't get that from the prologue then I'm sorry.

In general this type of discussion is going to be difficult, especially through anon ask/poster. So i probably won't answer any more like these just because of that. I feel like I can't really express my full thoughts on through asks because there are potential spoilers and stuff too.