#But thank you for the question I appreciate it lots ;///;

[mrsfancyferrari]

JUST READ LOSE MY MIND, CHASE ATLANTIC INSPIRED???? FOAMING AT THE MOUTH FUCK YESS, WE NEED MORE CHASE ATLANTIC APPRECIATION

Don't Stop

Summary: MV1 + "The problem is, if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Song: Church · Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: @dozyisdead thank you for your comment and your wish is my command! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 3.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

The roar of the engines was a symphony to some, an unbearable cacophony to others. For you, it was a constant hum, a background track to a life lived in the shadow of Formula 1.

Your father, a team principal with a fiery temper and an even fierier competitive spirit, had instilled in you a love for the sport, albeit one laced with a very specific kind of hatred.

That hatred was reserved for one man: Jos Verstappen. And consequently, for his son, Max.

The feud between your father and Jos was legendary, a well-documented saga of on-track collisions, boardroom betrayals, and accusations flung like grenades across the paddock. It was an old wound, festering and never allowed to heal.

You’d grown up hearing stories of Jos’s ruthlessness, his aggression, and the way he supposedly cheated your father out of a championship win years ago. You were raised to believe that the Verstappen name was synonymous with treachery and malice.

So, logically, you were supposed to hate Max Verstappen. It was expected.

But logic, as you were increasingly discovering, had a way of malfunctioning around the young Dutch driver.

You worked as a data analyst for your father's team, a role that kept you close to the action but slightly removed from the blatant animosity.

You excelled at your job, your sharp mind able to dissect telemetry readings and identify fractions of a second that could make the difference between victory and defeat.

It was during a pre-season testing session in Barcelona that Max first entered your orbit in a truly disconcerting way.

You were hunched over your laptop in the garage, the air thick with the smell of gasoline and burning rubber, when you felt a presence beside you.

"Looking busy," a voice drawled, laced with a Dutch accent that sent a shiver down your spine.

You looked up, your heart skipping a beat despite your best efforts to control it. Max Verstappen. He was leaning against the workbench, his eyes – those intensely blue eyes that seemed to see right through you – fixed on your face.

He was even more striking in person than on television.

"Just doing my job," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady.

"I've heard you're good at it," he said, pushing off the workbench and taking a step closer. "Your father keeps a tight ship."

"He expects the best," you retorted, your defenses instantly up.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through the air. "And you wouldn't want to disappoint him, would you?"

The unspoken question hung in the air, loaded with the weight of your fathers' rivalry. You met his gaze, refusing to back down. "No," you said firmly. "I wouldn't."

He smiled then, a genuine smile that transformed his face and made him look almost… vulnerable. "Good. Because I have a feeling you're capable of a lot more than just crunching numbers."

That was the beginning.

Over the next few months, their paths kept crossing. Brief encounters in the paddock, shared glances across crowded press conferences, and even the occasional, accidental bumping into in hotel lobbies.

Each interaction chipped away at your carefully constructed wall of animosity. You found yourself noticing the way he focused on the track, the quick wit he displayed in interviews, and the surprising kindness he showed to his mechanics.

He was… charming. Dangerous charming.

And he knew it.

He started seeking you out. A quick word in the hospitality tents, a shared elevator ride, a casual inquiry about your work. He was persistent, but never pushy. He was subtle, but undeniably present.

You tried to deny it, to rationalize it, to attribute it to simple curiosity or a harmless flirtation. But deep down, you knew the truth. You were drawn to him.

The tension between you grew thicker with each passing race weekend. It crackled in the air whenever you were near each other, a silent electricity that threatened to ignite into something explosive.

The Italian Grand Prix in Monza was the breaking point.

You were in the team's garage after a frustrating qualifying session, your father's angry voice echoing in the air. Max had just secured pole position, a fact that only added fuel to your father's fire.

You were trying to focus on the data, but your mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions.

He found you in the back of the garage, away from the noise and chaos. He leaned against a stack of tires, his expression serious.

"You look troubled," he said softly, his eyes searching yours.

"Just a bad day at the office," you mumbled, avoiding his gaze.

"More than that," he insisted, taking a step closer. "I can see it in your eyes."

You finally looked up at him, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you want, Max?"

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze dropping to your lips. When he looked back up, his eyes were filled with a raw intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

"I want you to stop pretending," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you to stop acting like you don't feel it too."

"Feel what?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

He closed the distance between you, his hand gently reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "This," he said, his voice barely audible. "This connection, this… pull."

You stood frozen, unable to move, unable to speak. You could feel the heat radiating from his body, the electricity crackling between you.

"You know it's there," he continued, his gaze locked on yours. "You've known it for weeks."

You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. "My father…" you began, but he cut you off.

"I don't care about your father," he said fiercely. "Or mine. This is about us."

He took another step closer, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. Your mind was screaming at you to run, to push him away, to remind yourself of the years of hatred and animosity.

But your body betrayed you, remaining rooted to the spot, yearning for something you knew you shouldn't want.

He lowered his head, his lips hovering just above yours. "The problem is," he murmured, his voice laced with a dangerous promise, "if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

The world seemed to shrink, the roar of the engines fading into a distant hum. All that existed was him, his eyes, his touch, the intoxicating possibility of something forbidden.

You wanted him. God, you wanted him more than you'd ever admitted to yourself.

But the weight of your father's expectations, the years of ingrained animosity, the potential fallout… it was all too much.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath, and forced yourself to step back.

"Don't," you whispered, your voice trembling. "Just… don't."

He stared at you, his expression a mixture of frustration and disappointment. He hadn’t expected you to deny him.

"Why not?" he asked, his voice tight.

"Because it's wrong," you said, the words tasting like ash in your mouth. "Because it would destroy everything."

He shook his head, his eyes filled with a sadness that pierced your heart. "You're choosing him over me?"

You didn't answer. You couldn't.

He took a step back, his shoulders slumping slightly. "I understand," he said, his voice flat. "You made your choice."

He turned and walked away, leaving you standing alone in the back of the garage, the weight of your decision crushing you.

The next few weeks were torturous. You avoided Max at all costs, burying yourself in your work, trying to convince yourself that you'd done the right thing.

But every time you saw him on the track, every time you heard his voice, every time you caught his eye, the memory of that moment in Monza would come flooding back, a painful reminder of what you had denied yourself.

He, in turn, became distant. Acknowledging you with a curt nod whenever your paths crossed, his blue eyes now devoid of the warmth you had briefly glimpsed. He became the Max Verstappen the world knew - the ruthless, focused driver, untouchable and unapproachable.

It was as if he was deliberately burying the flicker of vulnerability you had witnessed, replacing it with an impenetrable wall.

One evening, after a particularly grueling race, your father called you into his office. He looked tired, the lines on his face etched deeper than usual.

"I know about you and Verstappen," he said, his voice heavy.

Your heart sank. "I don't know what you're talking about."

He raised an eyebrow, his expression skeptical. "Don't play coy with me. I've seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him."

You remained silent, refusing to confirm or deny anything.

"I won't allow it," he said, his voice hardening. "I won't have you fraternizing with the enemy."

"He's not the enemy," you argued, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

Your father slammed his fist on the desk, making you jump. "He is the enemy! He's a Verstappen! Don't you understand what that means?"

You looked at him, your eyes filled with a mixture of anger and disappointment. "Yes, I understand. I understand that you're letting a decades-old grudge dictate my life."

"I'm protecting you," he insisted, his voice softening slightly. "He'll only break your heart."

"And you won't?" you countered, the words laced with a pain you had kept hidden for years.

He looked at you, his expression softening, and you knew you had struck a nerve. He knew that, in his own way, he had already broken your heart, countless times.

You stood up, your body trembling with a mixture of anger and grief. "I can't do this anymore," you said, your voice barely a whisper. "I can't live my life according to your rules."

You turned and walked out of his office, leaving him sitting alone in the silence.

You knew you couldn't stay. You couldn't continue to live a life dictated by other people's hatred.

That night, you packed a bag and left.

You didn't know where you were going, or what you were going to do. All you knew was that you needed to escape, to find a place where you could be free from the weight of your father's expectations and the shadow of the Verstappen rivalry.

You drove for hours, until you reached a small coastal town, far away from the noise and glamour of Formula 1. You found a cheap motel and checked in, collapsing onto the bed, exhaustion finally claiming you.

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of the ocean. You walked down to the beach, the cool sand between your toes, the salty air filling your lungs. You sat down on a rock, watching the waves crash against the shore, and finally allowed yourself to cry.

You cried for your father, for the years of missed opportunities and unspoken words. You cried for Max, for the connection you had denied, for the love you had let slip away. And you cried for yourself, for the life you had been living, a life that wasn't truly your own.

As the sun began to set, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. You didn't know what the future held, but you knew that you were finally free.

A few days later, while you were having coffee at a small cafe, you saw a familiar figure walking down the street.

Max.

Your heart skipped a beat. What was he doing here? How had he found you?

He saw you too, his eyes widening in surprise. He hesitated for a moment, then walked towards you, his expression unreadable.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, your voice trembling slightly.

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets. "I needed a break," he said, his gaze fixed on the ground. "And I thought I might find you here."

You stared at him, your mind racing. "Why?"

He looked up then, his blue eyes meeting yours. "Because," he said softly, "I couldn't let you go."

A denial trembled on your lips. This is a mistake. It can't work. The feud, your father, everything stands in our way. But the words wouldn't come. Your heart, traitorous thing that it was, soared at his words, desperate to believe in the impossible.

"Max…" you began, but he cut you off, stepping closer, his presence filling the small space between you.

"Don't," he pleaded, his voice raw. "Don't tell me it's a bad idea. Don't tell me we can't. Just… just let me be here. With you."

The intensity in his eyes was almost overwhelming. You looked away, breaking the connection, needing to gather your thoughts, to reign in the emotions that threatened to consume you.

"You shouldn't have come," you said, the words sounding harsher than you intended. "It's not… it's complicated."

He sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "I know it's complicated. I'm not stupid. But I don't care about complicated. I care about you."

He pulled out a chair and sat down, his gaze unwavering. The silence stretched between you, thick and heavy. You knew you should tell him to leave, to go back to his life, to the expectations and pressures that defined him.

But you couldn’t. The yearning in his eyes, the vulnerability he showed, mirrored the longing that had been buried deep within you for so long.

"My father knows," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush. "He knows about… us. And he’s not happy."

Max's jaw tightened. "I figured as much." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "Does he know how long 'us' has been going on?"

You looked down at your hands. "He doesn’t know there is an 'us'."

He chuckled, a low, humorless sound. "Right. Well, that's what you're afraid of. And that's the least of your worries. I'm sure he threatened you. He knows my father as well as anyone, and he'll have made it clear that he wants nothing to do with us."

You nodded, unable to meet his gaze. "He… he said I couldn't see you. He called you the enemy."

"And you listened?" There was a challenge in his voice, a flicker of the competitive fire that burned so brightly on the track.

You finally looked up, meeting his intense gaze. "No," you said, your voice stronger this time. "I didn't. That's why I'm here."

A slow smile spread across his face, transforming his features. The weariness seemed to lift, replaced by a glimmer of hope. "Good," he said, his voice softer now. "Because I don't think I could have handled it if you had."

He’d sought you out, finding you holed up in this anonymous corner of a city far removed from the glitz and glamour of Monaco. A city where you hoped to disappear, to catch your breath after the fallout.

But Max, with his unwavering determination, had a knack for finding you.

“This is crazy, you know,” you said, the small smile on your lips trembling slightly. It was crazy. Everything about this was insane. The clandestine meetings, the stolen moments, the constant fear of discovery. And now, the open defiance of your father’s wishes.

“What’s crazy is you living by yourself this whole time,” Max replied, his voice serious, devoid of the playful banter that usually characterized your interactions.

“Yeah, I’ve been living in a small hotel, a big change from Monaco, right?” you joked, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. But Max remained unsmiling, his focus unwavering.

“Has anyone tried to do something to you?” he asked, a furrow appearing between his brows. The intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. The concern was real.

“Nope, nothing I couldn’t take care of before,” you answered, offering a reassuring smile. “You’re overprotective for someone who is supposed to be my enemy,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low, insistent. “This whole situation… your father… it’s not safe. You shouldn’t be alone.”

You sighed, stirring your lukewarm latte with unnecessary force. “I know, I know. But what choice do I have? Staying in Monaco was… unbearable.”

The unspoken words hung heavy between you – the suffocating atmosphere, the judgmental eyes, the constant reminders of the chasm between your world and Max’s. Or, more accurately, between your fathers' worlds.

Silence descended, a pregnant pause filled with unspoken anxieties and desires. Then, Max broke it, his voice a quiet rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

“You could stay with me.”

The words hung in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. Stay with him? Live with him? It was a leap of faith so profound, so reckless, it took your breath away.

“Max…” you began, but he cut you off, his eyes pleading.

“Think about it. You wouldn’t be alone. You'd be safe. And… and I want you to be with me.”

The raw honesty in his voice was disarming, stripping away the layers of cynicism and doubt you had so carefully constructed. The thought of waking up beside him, of sharing your life with him, was a siren song you couldn't ignore.

You swirled the dregs of your latte, avoiding Max’s intense gaze. He’d sought you out, finding you holed up in this anonymous corner of a city far removed from the glitz and glamour of Monaco.

A city where you hoped to disappear, to catch your breath after the fallout. But Max, with his unwavering determination, had a knack for finding you.

"This is crazy, you know," you said, the small smile on your lips trembling slightly.

It was crazy. Everything about this was insane. The clandestine meetings, the stolen moments, the constant fear of discovery. And now, the open defiance of your father’s wishes.

"What’s crazy is you living by yourself this whole time," Max replied, his voice serious, devoid of the playful banter that usually characterized your interactions.

"Yeah, I’ve been living in a small hotel, a big change from Monaco, right?" you joked, pushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. But Max remained unsmiling, his focus unwavering.

"Has anyone tried to do something to you?" he asked, a furrow appearing between his brows. The intensity in his eyes made your heart skip a beat. The concern was real.

"Nope, nothing I couldn’t take care of before," you answered, offering a reassuring smile. "You’re overprotective for someone who is supposed to be my enemy," you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"I’m serious," he said, his voice low, insistent. "This whole situation… your father… it’s not safe. You shouldn’t be alone."

You sighed, stirring your lukewarm latte with unnecessary force. "I know, I know. But what choice do I have? Staying in Monaco was… unbearable."

The unspoken words hung heavy between you – the suffocating atmosphere, the judgmental eyes, the constant reminders of the chasm between your world and Max’s. Or, more accurately, between your fathers' worlds.

Silence descended, a pregnant pause filled with unspoken anxieties and desires. Then, Max broke it, his voice a quiet rumble that sent shivers down your spine.

"You could stay with me."

The words hung in the air, simple yet earth-shattering. You stared at him, your breath caught in your throat. Stay with him? Live with him? It was a leap of faith so profound, so reckless, it took your breath away.

"Max…" you began, but he cut you off, his eyes pleading.

"Think about it. You wouldn’t be alone. You'd be safe. And… and I want you to be with me."

The raw honesty in his voice was disarming, stripping away the layers of cynicism and doubt you had so carefully constructed. The thought of waking up beside him, of sharing your life with him, was a siren song you couldn't ignore.

"You don't have to answer now but can we get a meal, I'm starving after driving so long," Max said, breaking the heavy silence.

"I have food in my hotel, if you want," you replied, the offer escaping before you could fully register it. It was a small, hesitant step, a tiny crack in the wall you’d built around yourself.

Max's face softened, a glimmer of hope flickering in his eyes. "Really? Are you sure? I don't want to impose."

"It's just leftovers," you said, trying to downplay the significance. "But it's better than this coffee shop. And cheaper."

He chuckled, the sound warm and genuine. "Alright, lead the way. But I'm buying dessert later."

The walk back to your hotel was short, the silence less oppressive than it had been at the cafe. You found yourself stealing glances at

Max, noticing the way the afternoon sun caught the golden flecks in his eyes, the slight stubble that shadowed his jaw, the easy confidence in his stride. He was a force of nature, a whirlwind of energy and passion, and you were inexplicably drawn to him, even though every instinct screamed that it was a terrible idea.

Your hotel room was small and functional, a far cry from the opulent suites you were accustomed to.

You felt a flush of embarrassment as you opened the door, revealing the cramped space with its generic furniture and slightly musty smell.

"It's not much," you mumbled, gesturing vaguely around the room.

Max shrugged, unfazed. "It's a place to sleep. I've stayed in worse." He surveyed the room with genuine curiosity, his eyes lingering on the small framed photo on the bedside table – a picture of you and your mother, taken years ago on a sun-drenched summer day.

You busied yourself in the tiny kitchenette, pulling out the containers of leftover pasta from the fridge. "It's just pasta, nothing fancy," you said, your voice muffled.

"Pasta's perfect," Max replied, leaning against the doorway, watching you. "Especially when someone makes it for me."

You felt your cheeks flush again. "I didn't make it. I ordered it from a restaurant."

He laughed, a low, rumbling sound that vibrated through you. "Details, details. The point is, you're sharing it with me."

As you ate, the conversation flowed more easily. You talked about everything and nothing – the weather, the city, the ridiculousness of the reality TV show playing on the small television.

You avoided the topic of your fathers, of the racing world, of the complicated web of politics and rivalries that had brought you both to this point.

After you finished eating, you started clearing the dishes, but Max stopped you, gently taking the plates from your hands. "Let me do that," he said. "You relax."

You watched him as he washed the dishes in the tiny sink, the water splashing and the sound echoing in the small room. There was something surprisingly domestic about the scene, something that felt both comforting and unsettling.

When he was done, he turned to you, drying his hands on a dish towel. The air in the room suddenly felt thick, charged with an unspoken tension.

"So," he said, his voice low, "about that offer…"

You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. "Max, I don't know. It's… a lot to consider."

"I know it is," he said, taking a step closer, his eyes searching yours. "But I wouldn't ask if I didn't think it was the right thing. For both of us."

You closed your eyes, trying to block out the whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you. Fear, doubt, longing, hope – they all battled for dominance.

"My father would kill me," you whispered, the words barely audible.

"He won't have to know," Max said, his voice soft. "We can keep it our secret. For as long as we need to."

The idea was tempting, dangerously so. A secret life, hidden away from the prying eyes of the world, where you could be with Max without fear of judgment or reprisal.

But the thought of deceiving your father, of living a lie, weighed heavily on you. "I don't know if I can do that," you said, opening your eyes and meeting his gaze.

Max's expression was unreadable. "Then what do you want to do?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.

You didn't know. You wanted to run away, to escape the suffocating pressure of your life. You wanted to be with Max, to explore the connection that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

But you were afraid. Afraid of the consequences, afraid of the pain, afraid of the inevitable heartbreak that seemed to follow you everywhere.

You stepped back, putting some distance between you. "I need time to think," you said, your voice trembling.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes filled with understanding. "I know. Just… don't take too long. I don't want to lose you."

He took another step closer, closing the gap between you. You could feel his breath on your face, see the flecks of gold in his eyes, smell the faint scent of his cologne.

"The problem is," he said, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine, "if I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

The air crackled with electricity. You knew he was right. One kiss, one touch, and you'd be lost. You'd surrender to the desire that had been building between you for months, and there would be no turning back.

You closed your eyes again, bracing yourself for the inevitable. But instead of kissing you, Max stepped back, his face etched with a mixture of longing and restraint.

"I should go," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll let you think."

He turned and walked towards the door, leaving you standing alone in the small hotel room, your heart pounding, your mind reeling, and your body aching for a touch that you knew you couldn't afford to have.

The scent of him lingered in the air, a constant reminder of the choice you had to make, of the path you had to choose, and of the dangerous, irresistible man who was waiting for you on the other side.

You knew, with a certainty that chilled you to the bone, that your life would never be the same again. . . .

The sudden buzz of the hotel room door jolted you from your introspection, the muffled sound piercing the quietude that had settled over the space like a warm, velvet shroud.

You hesitated for a moment, your heart fluttering like a caged bird at the thought of seeing Max again. Two days had felt like an eternity, and you hadn't been able to shake the feeling that something was amiss. The buzz grew more insistent, and you realized you'd been holding your breath.

With a soft exhale, you approached the door, peeking through the peephole to confirm your suspicion. There he was, Max Verstappen, his frame slightly hunched as if he were carrying an invisible burden.

You swung the door open, the cool metal handle smooth against your palm, and took in the sight of him. Your eyes widened in alarm. Max looked as if he had been through a storm, his usually impeccable hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled, but it was the bruise blossoming on his left cheek that truly concerned you.

"Max! What happened!" you exclaimed, reaching for him, your voice a symphony of worry and relief. He stumbled forward, his eyes hazed with pain, and you caught him before he could collapse, the weight of his body a comforting presence that sent a rush of adrenaline through your veins.

With gentle insistence, you guided him to the plush couch that dominated the room, the soft fabric whispering against his skin as he sank into the cushions. He winced slightly, and you couldn't help but notice the way his muscles tensed beneath his shirt.

"Nothing happened," he muttered, his voice a low rumble that seemed to resonate through the air, thick with unshed emotion.

But the tremor in his words was a telltale sign of his distress, and you knew better than to take his dismissal at face value.

"Max," you said firmly, kneeling in front of him and placing your hands on his knees. The fabric of his trousers was rough against your palms, grounding you in the reality of the moment.

You searched his eyes, willing him to open up to you. "You can tell me." His gaze flicked to the floor, a silent confession of his vulnerability.

"My father…" he began, his voice cracking. "He hit me after I told him I was coming to see you today." The words hung between you, heavy with the unspoken implications of his actions and the price he'd paid for you two.

Your chest tightened with a mix of anger and fear for Max, but you pushed the feelings aside, focusing instead on the warmth of his body so near to yours.

"Why?" you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. His eyes met yours, the turmoil in his eyes a tempest that you desperately wanted to soothe.

"He doesn't approve," Max said, his jaw clenching. "But that's never stopped me before." A hint of defiance flashed in his eyes, and you felt a spark of admiration for his courage.

The silence stretched, a taut bowstring drawn between you both. The air grew thick with unspoken desire, and the space between you seemed to shrink until it was nothing more than a whisper.

You wanted to reach out, to trace the line of his jaw, to brush the hair from his forehead, to tell him everything would be alright. But you couldn't find the courage.

"I'll go get a first aid kit," you muttered, breaking the spell and standing abruptly.

You practically fled to the bathroom, grabbing the familiar box from under the sink. Your hands trembled as you opened it, the sterile scent of antiseptic doing little to calm your nerves.

You took a deep breath, trying to regain control, and walked back into the living room.

You returned with the familiar red and white box, the scent of antiseptic and sterile gauze a stark contrast to the intoxicating aroma of Max's aftershave that still lingered in the air.

He was lying back just as you'd left him, legs splayed slightly, a picture of vulnerable masculinity. A wave of protectiveness washed over you, eclipsing the earlier anxiety.

You walked between his legs, a move that felt both intimate and practical, and gently tapped his shoulder. "Max, wake up," you murmured, your voice soft.

He stirred, his eyes fluttering open, heavy-lidded and unfocused for a moment. He sat up slowly, wincing almost imperceptibly, and instinctively placed his hand on the side of your leg, a light, possessive touch.

"Yes, schat?" he asked gently, his voice thick with sleep and something else you couldn't quite decipher.

The word, Dutch for "treasure," sent a shiver down your spine. You tried to ignore the way your skin prickled under his touch, focusing instead on the task at hand. "I've got the first aid kit. Let's take a look, okay?"

He nodded slowly, his eyes meeting yours, searching, questioning. "It's nothing, really. Just… a bit sore."

You raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. "Let me be the judge of that." You knelt before him, opening the kit and carefully laying out the contents: antiseptic wipes, bandages, gauze pads, and pain relievers.

"Where are the worst spots?" you asked, your voice professional, though your heart hammered against your ribs.

He hesitated, then unbuttoned the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing a faint bruise blossoming on his chest. You gasped softly, your fingers tracing the edges of the discoloration.

"He didn't hold back, did he?" you whispered, your voice laced with anger.

Max shrugged, trying to downplay the severity of the situation. "It's fine. I've had worse."

"That's not the point," you retorted, your voice sharper than you intended. You softened your tone, looking back up at him. "Let me clean it up. And then we can talk."

He sighed, relenting. "Alright."

You carefully cleaned the bruise with an antiseptic wipe, watching his face for any sign of pain. He remained stoic, his gaze fixed on your hands as they moved with gentle precision. The silence stretched between you, thick with unspoken emotions.

Once you finished cleaning the bruise, you applied a thin layer of antiseptic cream and covered it with a bandage. "There," you said, stepping back to admire your work. "That should help."

Max looked down at the bandage, then back up at you. "Thank you," he said softly.

You met his gaze, and the air crackled with tension. You knew you couldn't ignore the elephant in the room any longer. "Why, Max? Why do you keep coming here, knowing what it costs you?"

His jaw clenched. "Because I want to," he said simply. "Because being with you… it's worth it."

"But is it really?" you pressed, your voice laced with doubt. "Is it worth the pain, the conflict, the disapproval of your family?"

He reached out and took your hand, his fingers intertwining with yours. His touch was warm, grounding, reassuring. "Yes," he said firmly. "It is. Because you make me happy. You make me feel… alive. And I don't want to give that up."

His words resonated with a raw honesty that tugged at your heart. You wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that your connection was strong enough to withstand the forces pulling you apart.

"I worry about you, Max," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. "I don't want you to get hurt because of me."

He squeezed your hand, his eyes filled with concern. "I know. But I can handle it. I'm a racing driver, remember? I'm used to taking risks."

You managed a weak smile. "That's not exactly reassuring."

He chuckled softly, the sound a welcome relief in the tense atmosphere. He pulled you closer, his gaze fixed on your lips. The air grew thick with anticipation.

It was a dangerous game you were playing, one that threatened to consume you both.

"I… I don't think we should see each other," you muttered, your hand instinctively reaching up to play with the soft strands of hair at the nape of his neck.

The words felt like shards of glass in your mouth, each syllable a betrayal of your own desires.

"And why is that, schat?" he slowly smiled, his Dutch accent thickening with playful provocation. He rubbed the side of your thighs, the simple gesture sending shivers down your spine.

"Because you're getting hurt because of me," you replied, knowing it was a weak argument, but all you could manage.

"For you? I'll do anything," Max said, moving closer, his breath ghosting across your lips.

He was so close, you could see the flecks of the ocean in his blue eyes, the tiny scar above his left eyebrow, a memento from his karting days.

You knew you should pull away, end this before it went any further, but you were frozen, caught in his magnetic pull.

He raised his head, his lips hovering just above yours. "I wasn't joking," he whispered, his voice husky and low. "If I kissed you, I don't think I'd be able to stop."

Your heart hammered against your ribs, threatening to break free. The world seemed to narrow, focusing only on him, on the anticipation that was building inside you. You knew he was right.

One kiss, and you'd be lost, spiraling further into this forbidden love affair.

"Maybe that's the problem," you whispered back, your voice trembling.

He tilted his head, his eyes searching yours. "What is?"

"That I don't want you to stop," you admitted, the truth spilling out like a confession.

A slow smile spread across his face, a genuine, heart-stopping smile that made you forget all the reasons why this shouldn't be happening. He lowered his head and finally, his lips met yours.

The kiss was electric, a jolt of pure energy that coursed through your veins. It was possessive, demanding, and utterly intoxicating.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, surrendering to the moment, to the overwhelming desire that had been simmering beneath the surface for so long.

Time seemed to dissolve as the kiss deepened, becoming more urgent, more desperate. He tasted of rain and adrenaline, of the forbidden thrill that defined your relationship. You ran your fingers through his hair, savoring the feel of it against your skin.

He pulled away slightly, gasping for air, his eyes dark with passion. "See?" he murmured, his voice raspy. "Told you."

You laughed breathlessly, the sound filled with a mixture of joy and apprehension. "You're impossible," you said, shaking your head.

"Maybe," he conceded, his eyes twinkling. "But you love it."

You couldn't deny it. You loved the danger, the excitement, the feeling of being completely alive when you were with him. But you also feared it. The consequences of your actions loomed large, threatening to crash down on you both.

"What are we going to do, Max?" you asked, the question heavy with uncertainty.

He sighed, his expression turning serious. "I don't know," he admitted. "But I'm not giving you up. Not without a fight."

He pulled you close again, burying his face in your hair. "Tonight," he murmured, "forget everything else. Just be with me."

You knew it was a temporary solution, a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. But in that moment, with his arms wrapped around you, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, your love was strong enough to overcome the obstacles in its path.

The roar of the Formula 1 engines rumbled in the distance, a constant reminder of the world he belonged to, the world that was waiting for him.

He needed to leave, to go and fight, to drive the best race of his life.

You pulled away and looked in his eyes. “Go. Win. I’ll be watching.”

He smiles, a genuine smile that reaches his eyes. “For you, I will.”

He kissed you once more, a quick but passionate kiss before turning and disappearing into the night. As you closed the door, you leaned against it, your heart pounding in your chest.

You knew this couldn't last forever.

But for tonight, you would allow yourself to dream, to believe in the impossible, and to hope that somehow, against all odds, your love story would have a happy ending. . . .

[gottencents]

MEMPHIS - Yu Jimin

causal scenarios. causal masterlist. main masterlist

pairing. meangirl!karina x soccerplayer!reader

synopsis. Y/N’s soccer team is gearing up for a championship match, and Karina initially shows up just to keep up the façade of their fake relationship. However, as the day unfolds, she begins to feel guilty for not being more supportive. She finds herself attending a pre-game practice, meeting Y/N's teammates, and witnessing firsthand how incredible Y/N is on the field. Karina can’t help but feel more drawn to Y/N’s passion and skill, questioning her true feelings in the process.

the sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm golden hue over the soccer field as Karina leaned back against the bleachers, her gaze following the movement of Y/N as she stretched with her teammates. The cool breeze rustled through her hair, but it did little to distract her from the sight before her. It was the day before the championship match, and Karina had only come to support the “fake” relationship she had with Y/N. She’d agreed to this arrangement in the beginning because it seemed simple—Y/N needed protection from the ever-present eyes of the campus, and Karina, with her popularity, was the perfect solution.

But today? Today felt different.

Karina had thought she’d be able to sit on the sidelines, cheer for the team in her usual way, and leave the moment the game was over. But when she arrived at the field, something had shifted inside her. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from Y/N. From the way her muscles worked as she moved, how she laughed with her teammates, and the fire that burned in her gaze as she focused on the game. It was all so... captivating.

Y/N’s laughter rang through the air as she joked around with her teammates. Karina couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she carried herself, how her teammates gravitated toward her with admiration and respect. It wasn’t just Y/N’s skills on the field that were impressive—it was her ability to command attention, to make everyone around her feel at ease.

As Y/N caught her eye and gave her a small wave from across the field, a flutter ran through Karina’s chest. She’d seen that smile before, but today, it felt like it held something more. Something that made Karina pause, her heart skipping in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

Y/N jogged over to the sideline, her breath coming in light pants, her hair sticking to her forehead from the heat of the practice. She was wearing her usual practice gear—loose-fitting shorts and a tank top that showed off her toned arms, the hint of muscle under her skin making Karina’s pulse quicken unexpectedly.

“Hey, babe,” Y/N greeted her, a teasing glint in her eyes. “You actually made it.”

Karina smiled softly, leaning forward on her elbows and resting her chin on her hand. “Yeah, I figured I should be here… support you, you know? Since you’ve got your big game tomorrow.”

Y/N arched a brow, crossing her arms. “Uh-huh. I think you're here for the post-game celebration, not my skills on the field.”

Karina chuckled lightly, a playful smile curling on her lips. “You know, I didn’t realize how dedicated you are. This isn’t just a hobby for you, huh?”

Y/N’s expression softened, and she uncrossed her arms, looking at Karina with a warmth that made her heart flutter. “It’s my whole life, Karina. This is everything to me. I’ve spent my whole life training for moments like this.”

Karina’s gaze flickered, suddenly feeling a bit out of place. She had always known Y/N’s dedication to the game, but hearing it come from Y/N herself, the sincerity in her voice, made Karina realize just how much it meant to her. It made Karina admire her in a way she hadn’t fully understood before.

“You’re amazing,” Karina said softly, without meaning to, her voice more genuine than she’d expected.

Y/N’s eyes softened as she offered a smile, the edges of her lips curling up in appreciation. “Thanks, babe. That means a lot.”

For a moment, Karina could only stare at her, a strange warmth rising in her chest. She didn’t understand why she was suddenly feeling this way, this overwhelming pull toward Y/N. She had always kept her emotions guarded, but now… now they were starting to crack open.

“I should probably go meet your teammates,” Karina said, trying to shift the topic, her voice almost nervous. “You know, be the supportive girlfriend and all that.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up, and she gave Karina a playful nudge. “That’s my girl,” she said with a wink, before grabbing Karina’s hand and pulling her toward the group. “Come on, I’ll introduce you. They’ve been dying to meet you.”

As they approached Y/N’s teammates, Karina felt her nerves creep up. She wasn’t used to interacting with athletes this way, not like this. But the moment Y/N introduced her to her friends, Karina couldn’t help but feel more at ease.

“Karina, this is Sunghoon, Mark, and Yunjin,” Y/N said, introducing the group, who all waved enthusiastically. “They’re the ones who keep me in check.”

Sunghoon, the team captain, stepped forward with a friendly smile and offered Karina a handshake. “Nice to finally meet you. Y/N talks about you all the time.”

“Y/N talks about me?” Karina asked, raising an eyebrow, a teasing note in her voice.

“Of course!” Yunjin chimed in. “She’s been holding out on the details, though. What’s the deal?”

Y/N rolled her eyes, laughing. “It’s not like that,” she protested, but the smile on her face was soft, a touch more intimate than Karina expected. It made her heart race in a way she wasn’t prepared for.

Karina’s gaze lingered on Y/N for just a moment longer than necessary, and the look in Y/N’s eyes—affectionate, warm—sent a wave of emotion flooding through her chest. She quickly glanced away, trying to distract herself from the sudden intensity of the moment.

The rest of the practice was a blur of movements, but Karina couldn’t tear her eyes away from Y/N. She watched as Y/N expertly maneuvered around the field, dribbling the ball, passing it effortlessly to teammates, and scoring goals with a focus that was awe-inspiring. It was then that Karina truly realized just how much effort Y/N put into every play, how she poured her heart and soul into the game.

“Wow,” Karina muttered to herself, a whisper of admiration in her voice. “She’s incredible.”

Sunghoon chuckled beside her, his eyes watching Y/N too. “I told you. She’s the best player we’ve got.”

Karina nodded, still mesmerized. “I didn’t realize how much she loved this. I knew she was good, but... watching her now, it’s like I’m seeing a whole different side of her.”

Sunghoon gave her a knowing smile, his eyes soft. “Y/N doesn’t do anything halfway. If she’s in, she’s all in. And, honestly, you’re lucky to have her.”

Karina blinked, Sunghoon’s words sinking in deeper than she expected. Maybe she hadn’t been paying attention before, but now? Now she saw Y/N differently. She wasn’t just a soccer star in her eyes—she was someone who had worked tirelessly for this, someone who had passion that burned bright in her soul. And Karina felt… something. Something real.

As practice wrapped up and the team gathered around Y/N, Karina found herself standing off to the side, watching Y/N interact with her teammates, the easy camaraderie they shared making her smile. When Y/N jogged over to her, sweat glistening on her skin, Karina’s heart skipped.

“You okay?” Y/N asked, wiping a strand of hair from her forehead, her eyes studying Karina with concern. “You seem quieter than usual.”

Karina met her gaze, feeling her heart race, her emotions rising to the surface. “I’m just... amazed,” she said softly. “You’re incredible, Y/N. I had no idea how much you put into this. I— I didn’t realize how important this all is to you.”

Y/N’s face softened, her thumb brushing against Karina’s cheek in a gesture that felt tender, intimate. “Thanks, babe. It really means a lot that you’re here.”

Karina leaned into the touch, her chest tight with something she couldn’t explain. “I’m here now, aren’t I?” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I think I’m starting to realize that I want to be here. With you.”

Y/N’s eyes lit up with something warm, her lips curving into a genuine smile. “Good. Because I wouldn’t want to do this without you.”

In that moment, Karina felt a rush of clarity. What had started as a fake relationship had become something far more than she’d ever intended. She wasn’t just here for the image or the façade anymore. She was here because she genuinely cared. And she was ready to see where it could go.

Y/N stepped closer, her breath warm on Karina’s skin. The scent of her, mixed with the familiar traces of sweat from practice, only intensified the electricity between them. Karina’s gaze dropped to Y/N’s lips for a fleeting moment before she met her eyes again. The intensity in Y/N’s expression was unmistakable—she was just as aware of the shift between them.

“Let’s win this game together,” Karina said softly, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s.

Y/N nodded, her gaze steady, filled with trust. “Together.”

As they stood there, hand in hand, the world around them seemed to fade into the background. The sounds of the practice field, the cheer of the other teammates, all faded into white noise. For the first time in a long while, Karina felt like she knew exactly where she was meant to be. Right here, with Y/N.

Then, slowly, Y/N cupped Karina’s chin, gently tilting her head upward. Without a word, she closed the space between them. Karina’s heart pounded in her chest as Y/N’s lips met hers in a kiss that was soft at first, but quickly deepened as the tension that had been building all day came to a head. Karina’s hands slid to Y/N’s shoulders, pulling her closer as Y/N’s fingers ran through her hair, the touch making Karina melt.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless, Karina rested her forehead against Y/N’s, her heart still racing. “I don’t want to lose you,” she whispered, her voice shaky.

“You won’t,” Y/N murmured back. “You never will.”

And just like that, everything felt right.

[jesawyer]

Hi Joshua!

I just watched 'It Takes an Abbey: Developing Pentiment with a (Small) Remote Team - DStars 2023' and I had a simple question for you. I work in HR and every time I suggest doing something similar to watching a movie or show together, management assumes that it will happen off work time, while employees assume it would happen during work time. How do you handle it?

Thank you for a delightful talk! I really appreciate it.

Thank you. I explicitly said that it would happen during work hours but also it was limited to 1 hour per week.

If you have a lot of reference material I don't think it's reasonable to ask employees to use their precious personal time for covering all of the reference.

[twig-tea]

Taiwanese Talk Show The BL Era

Thank you @thisonelikesaliens for shouting out the Taiwanese talk show miniseries The BL Era: Taiwan's Spotlight, it was really well put together and gave me some good insights into the Taiwanese BL market. And thanks @my-rose-tinted-glasses for pointing out Aliens' posts to me when I've been mostly off tumblr.

Aliens has posted about all of the episodes on their tag, which I recommend going through (all of the episodes are linked there).

Here are my main takeaways from all 6 episodes, in case it helps anyone decide if they want to watch/which eps may be of most interest:

Ep1 on Unknown and The On1y One: The discussion about the adaptation choices in both of these shows (as both of these were adapted from danmei) was really interesting, though the lack of discussion about where to end the first season of On1y One was glaring to me. I did like that this episode talked about what made both of these stand out (the build of the feelings between the characters) and how much emphasis this episode put on good writing. There was an offhand comment that Director Liu Kuang Hi made about not needing a shower scene that made me wonder if he regretted that scene in Your Name Engraved Herein (I for one am very glad it was in the film as a critical character moment). That last bit is just me speculating BTW, I don't mean to put words in his mouth.

Ep2 on HIStory 3: Make Our Days Count: It was new information for me that this aired in a time where Taiwanese culture more broadly was interested in tragic stories, I liked having that additional context. Also I was interested to hear confirmed by writers and creators that there was a lot of pressure post-MODC to write only happy endings, though some of the fans interviewed talked about how a sad ending can be acceptable if it's earned. This was such a tumultuous experience for BL fandom, if you didn't experience it in real time I recommend watching this episode to get a sense of the impact.

Ep3 on VBL: This was my favourite episode of the series; it was the most interesting to me because it got into a side of the business I really don't pay a lot of attention to: Fandom management outside of the series itself. I learned a lot about the VBL series including that it was produced in partnership with a Japanese company and that it was the first BL since 2018 to air on TV in Taiwan. I also hadn't realized that this company had worked hard to build fandom around the pairs outside of the show itself, and that was a part of why it was so successful. I had no idea that this set of shows did such a good job managing fan engagement. It was really interesting hearing the network person talk about how they think about the show as just one part of a whole that they are selling, and how managing how it lands and what impact it has and what trends is another part. All of that was fascinating. I also liked hearing the actors talk about what it's like being in a CP. This episode did not hold back that the writing in the VBL series felt shallow and that the actors were green, which I was impressed by--I appreciate creators who acknowledge their own gaps especially when they then talk about wanting to see those improve.

Ep4 on Kiseki: Dear to Me: Placing this right after the VBL episode was smart because they talked about the effect of the fanmeet flop and its subsequent handling failure and the impact on the show, which is given more context from the previous ep. I knew almost nothing about this other than that the pressure on the secondary CP in this show was high, so getting this BTS insight into what happened from fan and industry perspective was fascinating. I did not realize that Taiwanese BL producers experienced expectations formed by Thai fanmeets (which differ from Taiwanese fanmeet styles) from both international fans and from Taiwanese BL fans. The framing of expectation and the question of whether Taiwan should follow the Thai model or just do its own thing but better set expectations in advance is an interesting one.

Ep5 on HIStory 2: I'm so glad HIStory 2 got some attention because it's my favourite season that I rewatch regularly. The news that they had a plan to have an check-in on the family from Right or Wrong hurts my heart; how dare they pain me with this info. That being said, the actor Steven Chiang writing what is essentially fanfic for his own character made me very happy. The idea of the Thai market being a one-stop shop and Taiwan still experimenting with small producers that don't have a production line or 360 business model was very interesting. I also loved the Taiwanese pride in this episode, and the frustration that came through when they were talking about how Taiwan has great IP to adapt too, it's just hard to get it off the ground. It was smart to end on this episode, as a speculation on how Taiwanese BL should move forward in the context of everything above: Its legacy, it's fumbles, the international pressures and the realities of the Taiwanese industry. Also, LIN PEI YU PRODUCING A TAIWANESE GL IN 2025?! GIVE IT TO ME!!!

[bichianti]

Do you have to deal with harassment a lot? I love to see all the support you have, makes me so happy that such a talented artists gets all the appreciation you deserve :3 but also makes me question myself about if someone bothers you with stupid messages about your account sigh, idk if i could handle that, too anxious. Anyways, hope you have a good day <3

Direct hate messages are a rarity and not the norm at all. And tbh, If it really bothered me, I could just turn off anon or close my strawpage you know... everyone can message me (and anonymously lol).

I'm pretty immune to it tho, I think to a certain point you just have to be, if you create something and put it out there. People will always find a way to hate.

Now with the characters I draw it is a special case and I know that, because the more horrible, the more I feel inspired somehow. And I respect people not liking it, as long as they don't get SUPER obsessed with hating me or make up wild assumptions just because I love to depict certain fictional (!) scenarios/characters...

Anyway thank you for this nice ask. But yea, if you are an artist or writer or whatever. You need to grow a thick skin and not care too much about every single opinion, and focus on the positive aspects.

[markrosewater]

hey I was told to do birthday question on here?

Been waiting all year to ask:

Will there be a RedXIII card in the mtg final fantasy set?

And is there any little snippet you can give me about his card besides it'll be red xD

I Appreciate you taking the time to read this! Thanks!

I can't talk about unknown designs from upcoming sets. I do know a lot of time and energy was spent trying to hit the things fans would most want to see.

Happy Birthday!

[anticidic]

thanks for tagging me @frankenjoly @marichild and @saoirseyun <3 (I meant to do this eventually but three time's the charm)

20 questions for fic writers!

How many works do you have on AO3?

24 (but really 25, but one of them is written by a friend and I am merely a spectator and not really a cowriter)

what's your total ao3 word count?

406,373 words

what fandoms do you write for?

Only Bungo Stray Dogs, though I keep toying with the idea of writing for others (and then never do).

what are your top five fics by kudos?

from a to o, i love you so — omegaverse A/A -> A/O Soukoku piece

foiled fables — Kitsune!Dazai and human!Chuuya AU

with me, disaster finds a playfield — omegaverse Beast AU

letters to my chosen one — Angel!Dazai and Demon!Chuuya AU

bad days, good nights — Dazai birthday fic

do you respond to comments? why or why not?

Yes 💖 I do my best to respond to all of them because I appreciate others taking the time out to read and comment their thoughts, even if it's a simple emoji

what's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

still the snowflakes fall — A what-if had Dazai been a part of the Decay of Angels instead. It doesn't end well for anyone involved.

what's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

I think probably from a to o, i love you so. Because it's about Dazai waking up one morning and losing a critical part of his identity and suddenly everything he knows is a lie. But despite fumbling, he comes to accept a new reality because, as Chuuya puts it, he's still Dazai. That core part of him hasn't changed.

do you get hate on fics?

Not really. I've gotten dumb trollish comments and people demanding for requests but I've shut them down

do you write smut?

wildly gestures to almost my entire catalog of fics And I'll do it again

do you write crossovers?

No, but I've wanted to write fusions. Like dropping bsd characters into Genshin or Honkai Star Rail or Psycho-Pass or something. Some of my fics have been loosely inspired by games or things I've watched but I definitely wouldn't call them crossovers.

have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge, but I hope not jkdkjskj

have you ever had a fic translated?

I've had a few requests for one of my recent fics to be translated 👀 I'm over the moon every time someone asks

have you ever cowritten a fic before?

I SUPPOSE Darling, Some Things Are Meant to Be counts in a very roundabout way. @ohhcinnybuns gets full credits for the actual fic on there, but we go back and forth on here writing Snow White!Dazai and Prince!Chuuya ficlets (hey, go check out our fairytale playlist for them, I'm obsessed)

what's your all time favourite ship?

Probably IwaOi and ShuAke

what's the wip you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I started a zombie apocalypse-flavored omegaverse in anticipation of finishing it for omegaverse week and that never happened. I'm feeling ambitious but I also have a lot of events I'm participating in at the moment and ongoing fics that need prioritizing.

what are your writing strengths?

Painting scenes and going into depth about character motives and inner thoughts! Also, tying subplots into the overarching plot. I love worldbuilding and creating seemingly insignificant backstories for characters that end up playing major roles down the road.

what are your writing weaknesses?

The last time I did this tag game, I said dialogue, and that was a couple of months ago now but I feel like I've made major improvements in that area with my recent stuff. I'm becoming a lot more comfortable with fleshing out the plot through characters interacting with one another than in exposition and narrative. Now, I'd say editing. I tend to second guess myself and will scrap several thousands-worth of words if something's not working and then rewrite it all over again because I can't pick out what exactly is wrong with something.

thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I write Japanese honorifics simply because I feel like it reads a little better, but that's about it since most of what I write takes place in Japan.

first fandom you wrote for?

K-Pop help it was so long ago...we don't talk about those days...

favourite fic you've ever written?

hunter's season my beloved. It's a Dark Era omegaverse fic revolving around Dazai/Chuuya, with Dazai who thought he was an alpha but turns out he was really living a lie his whole life and finds out the hard way after taking some tampered medications.

no pressure tags: @altruistic-meme @monkey-banana41 @chuuyaspinkmotorcycle @calmlb @bloodsherry

[cottagecore-raccoon]

what’s your favourite oscar wilde quote

I've been thinking on your lovely ask all week, funny enough. I'd love to be the sort of person who just knows quotes off the top of their head, but unfortunately I'm much more of paraphrasing person

Still, the one that I keep coming back to is "The books that the world calls immoral are books that show the world its own shame." from the Picture of Dorian Gray. Obviously, any quote taken out of its original context is doomed to be misinterpreted (looking at most Jane Austen quotes-), but I appreciate the second life this quote has taken on in response to book banning

September has a week dedicated to the issue of books being banned, and October is Banned Books Month. Because of my work in a library, fall has become the dedicated time when we all raise awareness about the trouble of book banning. One of the things we did this year was wrap all of our books for the display with descriptions of why they were challenged/banned and then decorated the display with bookmarks that had quotes on the issue of book banning on them. This quote, of course, was one of them

[puppppppppy]

Hey I’m new to the LMK fandom, why do so many people ship Sun Wukong and Macaque??

A lot of people like the hurt/comfort potential because of their backstory and because they’re just really good counterparts lol. Macaque even makes a whole play about their past relationship, which is where a lot of that fuel for the ship comes from and the whole “the hero and the warrior were like the sun and the moon” spiel that people love using for shits and giggles. There’s also a really strong enemies to lovers sentiment and i think it’s kinda sweet

Personally, I just really like riffing off the divorced energy. To me, these idiots would rather beat the shit out of each other than make up and I really really eat that up. Not just as a joke, maybe as a way to cope with their feelings like “I want things to go back the way they were but this is all I can do”

[awakenthebeing]

ohhhhh please I wanna know….what does piepoe think about Noisette…..pink creacher solidarity

I really like to believe they are friends!!!

[motleyfam]

So, in the fic where Tim gets his appendix out, Jason tells him that he usually freaks out before he gets put under, not after. Now that Tim knows, how would he comfort Jason? I'm thinking, like, imagine that Jason breaks his leg badly on patrol, so urgent surgery is in order. Would Tim try to prevent him from freaking out? How?

P.s. i said i a thousand rimes bur I love your works!! You're amazing!!

Ooh so I've actually answered a similar question pretty recently (although that was focused more on the needle aspect than the anesthesia/loss of control aspect which I headcanon to be Jason's main issue with being put under)

Honestly? I think Tim would be the worst family member to try to comfort Jason through something like this. Not for anything that Tim is doing right or wrong, just because anesthesia is something that really freaks Jason out, and his response to being freaked out is a) to angry cry, and b) to lash out at people. Because he knows this about himself, and he's also extremely protective of Tim, he tries not to let Tim see him when he's not fully in control of himself. So while Jason would totally be great in a crisis involving Tim, he does terribly when the roles are reversed.

BUT that being said, if Tim was the only one available, I think Tim would end up offering his hand to squeeze, and Jason would hesitate at first but eventually take it. He'd probably also be trying really hard not to cry, which Tim would very intentionally act as through he wasn't noticing because at the end of the day, Jason needs his dignity more than anything.

[viperfizz]

I can’t stop imagining a scene in your mermaid AU where Xara waves Ellie over. Ellie walks closer and crouches near the water, unsure of what to expect. And Xara proceeds to reach into the murky water in front of her and pull out the silliest little brindled madtom catfish ever and hold it up to Ellie like “look at what I have!”

awww absolutely!! mer!xara likes to show off her prized possessions to ellie. it’s her odd way of showing affection and building trust. and she also just never gets to show people anything she finds bc she never interacts with any humans so it’s very exciting when she meets ellie!

mavis is one of those prized possessions

truth be told if mavis was a catfish in this au xara might just eat her the first time she encounters her. she’s a wild animal after all. she eats fish 🤷 though i do love the idea of her being like “i like this one i’ll let it live”

however i am debating on how i wanna approach the concept of xara being able to transform herself and walk on land. so if i did ever incorporate mavis somehow, she might just be the same lil tortoiseshell cat that she is in the normal xaragaard au. that way she would have a better chance of being spared (again, xara is still a wild animal. she would probably have the temptation to strike, but would hold back cause wait a minute this creature isn’t familiar to my diet and it’s kinda cute)

xara might find a boat nearby with the name “mavis” on it and think you know what this slaps actually

i might just not have mavis involved in this au though cause it breaks my heart thinking about xara seeing her sweet baby as potential prey. maybe she’ll have a cameo appearance instead :)

[thelingering]

Ask game :0!!!!

honeycomb 🐝 (do you want a big family or a small one?)

echo 🕳️ (what’s a habit you want to start?)

birch 🌳 (what’s something you’re proud of?)

:3?

GASP hiiii!!!!

ooOOoOo, good question :0 I sincerely hope my family's on the larger side one day lol :> As I myself have grown up in a decently sizable family (especially for this day and age) I just feel it's such a great thing and a real blessing to have; but! if'll be whatever the future holds :) (though a big family would be pretty awesome lol :3) ALSO ALSO ALSO thought from after I finished typing this: my family is most certainly gonna be more than just the people I'm related to; E'RAHONE is welcome in MAH household >:33

GASP a question I know the answer to right off the bat lol :0!! /silly- I would VERILY like to get off tumblr more and construct mine brain a tadd more than I have recently lol- I HURKLE DURKLED UNTIL NOON TODAYYY (in case that tumblr vocab has escaped your dash it's a funny word that means to procrastinate getting out of bed or something XD) so yeah! getting off tumblr (and yt shorts lol) more, and possibly drawing/writing/reading/listening to podcasts (jrwi our beloved....)/etc etc :D!

Oooo, something I'm proud of! Let's think: My 'stick out my chest a little cuz I like it that much' things have two categories: Things I did to earn, and things I Just Have :> when it comes to the latter, I am SO proud of my religion, and all the family and friends I have in my life (*points repeatedly*)

then for the other category, I'm rather fond of my music c: I think it's just such a great thing that the years have payed ofc and now I have a whole 'nother language to offer people! I can gibs joy and sad and good and bad and overall happysad :3

thank youuuu for the askk!! I enjoyed the questions you picked for me lol, those were good :>

[bandzboy]

I've been a stay for 6 years, I've seen all the bad and the good things, and skz have been a really important part of my life. With everything that was going on, I decided to take a break from skz until this whole lose my breath era was over. Now I wanted to come back for their new album, but it just doesn't feel the same anymore. It's been months yet nothing has changed, they haven't apologized or addressed any of the concerns, they are still working with zionists. Their lyrics seems so meaningless now, this is from their new song "Head above the clouds, stand tall for the hell of it. Tower over crowds, don't pause 'cause I'm lovin' it. Heavy and I'm proud, backbone never suffering". In the past I would loved this song, but now them saying this while being silent about a genocide and happily working with zionists, just feels wrong. I know that one person leaving won't change anything, but I don't think I can support them anymore. As much as it hurts, it's time to admit that they really don't stand for what they used to.

anon i'm honestly on the same boat as you and tbh your feelings are valid if you decide to unstan it's truly okay bc i get you! truly i've been following everything going on and it's insanely sad that so many stays have been trying their hardest to make them know but all we get is silence. it doesn't help that jype is also trying to silence people too but you know it just sucks because there's no way they haven't seen it at this point there's no way they don't know their fandom is so divided over this ever since the lmb release. i wanna believe they are good people but it just so crazy they keep being tied to zionists or hanging out with them and it feels like a slap in the face every time i am not gonna lie and unfortunately, they aren't the only group that is silent rn and it truly makes me question all the people i stan at the moment and what their intentions are... like i truly sit here and think to myself what the really reality is! i can't be excited about things anymore because of how everything is looking rn. i knew i wasn't gonna tune in for this next skz comeback when the lmb fiasco happened because unfortunately it tainted everything for me and it's sad! i don't know what i'll exactly do either but since i'm so dead set on making things right and to keep pushing it i am sticking around for that because my interest in kpop is kinda slowly going away and it's sad. even tho i want idols to have better working rights and it's something that i will always bring up and, i'm very passionate about you could say, it's hard for me to stay knowing that these people are so comfortable being silent and it hurts to know this was probably the plan all along. the way when people started to bring up celebrities speaking up, people were already not including kpop idols with everyone else like... the group of people that should speak up and i think that was the moment that i realized how wrong everything is like how we expect them to essentially do nothing and not gaf about anything and that's messed up ESPECIALLY coming from groups like skz that have lyrics that are very much about rebellion and fighting back oppressive things and so on and it makes you really think that yeah maybe this whole shit was just a concept to them and they don't bring that into their real life. it just sucks atp i'm just venting i could go on because i have SO MUCH TO SAY i'm just now realizing i've been bottling this all up almost but yeah all of this to say that i truly truly get it and just know you aren't alone when it comes to feeling like this towards groups you stan because it's happening to a lot of people atm

[strohller27]

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[claraknight]

1, 4, 9, 21? :]

End of the year ask game - Accepting!

(My apologies in advance, my memory has been really shabby lately so my answers are from fairly recent experiences) 1 - Song of the year?

Not going to mention Spotify Wrapped because the first one is a game soundtrack from a game I NEVER PLAYED that I just liked to daydream to- But now to pick one single song for the year is not easy... Oh wait I know.

The Sound of Silence (Simon & Garfunkel). I can't explain exactly why (RP lore aside), I just find this song incredibly soothing and calming. Soft yet powerful. It gets to the heart. It speaks of loneliness, and, ironically, how the masses are affected by it. I love it lots.

4 - Movie of the year?

I did go more often to the cinema this year, as opposed to the previous one- but nothing that really amazed me to the point of mentioning it here. But I also DID see some movies with friends on Discord, and frankly, one that has stuck with me was "Wallace and Gromit - The curse of the Were-Rabbit". I don't remember laughing so much, the British humor is so on point and SO TOUCHING... Looking forward to watching the next one in early January!

9 - Best month for you this year? This year has been very slow paced- with up and downs (the troubles that comes with self-employment and job hunting) which little by little drew me weary, dull, and, frankly, pretty lonely (that's what happens when you get your diploma in the opposite side of the country AND work as a freelancer).

Anyway, back to the point - I'll cheat and say a month period rather than name a single month : the period from October to November. In October I pushed myself to shove my jobless shame aside to return to uni for an anniversary event- it allowed me to travel, meet former classmates/teachers but also get back in touch with friends in Paris. I also got to spend some awesome time with another friend (hello, that's you!!) on my way back home! It felt like a breath of fresh air, to travel and reconnect with people, remember you're worthy and loved, no matter your struggles, and to build some must needed confidence. Then November came and so started my Simpsons hyperfixation. It may sound incredibly silly, but I do believe it's important because I do not remember feeling so hyped about a show- to the point of getting me back into posting artworks online, something I had completely dropped in the latest years! So really, I do think it's worth mentioning. So I'm taking the opportunity that you sent me this ask to thank you for your hospitality AND for giving me the good old Simpsons virus. ♥

21 - What’s something new about your place of residence (room, home, or general location) now vs the start of the year?

Had it been the end of last year I'd say my new PC set- that I'm very happy about, frankly. A must needed upgrade, but that would be cheating for this year's ask, so... The only thing new in my room this year? My translation master diploma. I would say it's "not much" but it's not the case - it's the conclusion of a hectic chapter of my life - one that had started in genuine confusion, fell apart with a nasty burn out, then slowly but surely improved as I got back up and started from scratch. And here it is. Sitting on top of my printer, always in sight, to remember what I've gone through and what I've achieved when I feel like I had wasted my time. It's a nice reminder, and particularly empowering considering things have been starting to improve professional-wise, so... I like to think 2025 will be the year my translation career will really start to take off. :)