#I have nothing else to lose at this point

[wonderjanga]

Damage

Billy literally cannot touch anything that has electricity or else it will break. The strange thing is that there’s only started happening after the bubble popped so something is clearly wrong with these people and it’s obviously not Billy’s fault. That doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty though.

Flash: “Dude, can you take a picture of us?”

Marvel: “I- Uh-”

Flash: “Thanks!” *shoves it into his hands*

Marvel: “-NO!” *phone literally explodes*

*silence*

Marvel: *covered in ash, holding the broken phone* “I… I’m so sorry.” *awkwardly hands it back to Flash*

or

Supes: *showing Cap around the tower* “This is the Watchtower- why are you flying?”

Marvel: “Huh?” *is hovering about a foot above the ground*

Supes: “Why are you flying? Captain, we’re already here.”

Marvel: “Oh uhm… I don’t wanna break your Watchtower, Mr. Superman Sir.”

Supes: “What?”

Marvel: “I said I don’t wanna break your Watchtower.”

Supes: *stares for a bit* “Wha- Captain, I assure you, you won’t break the watchtower if you just touchdown.”

Marvel: “Are you sure…? I don’t really believe you.”

Supes: “Yes, I’m sure. If you don’t believe me, just float down. I promise if you break anything, it’ll be on me.”

Marvel: *hesitantly touches down* “…Nothing. Nothing happened. Yay!”

The Watchtower then proceeded to lose all electricity and have every single computer absolutely decimated. That resulted in him and a bunch of other heavy hitters having to stop the Watchtower from falling down to the Earth.

or

Lex Luthor: “Captain Marvel. I have come to ask you something.” *in his mech suit*

Marvel: “What is it, Mr. Lex Luthor Sir?”

Lex Luthor: “Are you… Kryptonian?!” *points to him and has his pointer finger like a centimeter away from Billy’s nose*

Marvel: “No…?”

Lex Luthor: “Do not lie.”

Marvel: “I’m not.”

Lex Luthor: “Then explain your similarities!”

Marvel: “…We just have similar powers?”

Lex Luthor: “So you are Kryptonian!”

Marvel: *annoyed at the face in his face and slaps it away* “No I’m not-”

Lex Luthor: *entire suit immediately breaks apart*

[mameillieureennemie]

Could I please suggest Sub!vi with Dom! Reader riding Vi’s face and vi cums untouched and is punished for it????

You don’t have to if you dont want to

Thanks!

-saturn

ohoho this idea had me going a bit crazy, i shan't lie to you...i hope you enjoy 👀

cw: sub!vi, dom!afab!reader, praise kink, 18+ so minors DNI or else

"such a good girl," you praise softly, smiling down at vi's pleading doe eyes. they close briefly when you grip her hair, hold solid as you rock against her mouth. her nose brushes against your clit with each thrust, causing your breath to hitch and your hips to grind harder. "doing so well for me, aren't you?"

vi's eyes cross slightly at the still pouring praise, her hands grabbing the curves of your hips like a lifeline. she hums against your sopping hole, the vibrations having you hissing, body jerking at the sensation.

"fuck vi," you gasp, fucking her face a little faster. you grab at one of your tits with your free hand, twisting the perked nipple until there's a hint of pain to the pleasure. "you're being so, ah, so good for me and—" you shudder when vi whimpers against your pussy, her head tilting up so her lips can wrap around your clit. "yes, yes—"

vi's like a live wire beneath you, her nails digging into the plush of your hips. she's staring up at you, mesmerised and face wet from the last two times you came. her skin's all flushed, a darling pink a few shades too light to match her hair. but she's gorgeous, especially when she's desperate and needing to come for the past hour.

but she's holding on for you because you told her not to come. you told that she isn't allowed until you've used her mouth to the point of satisfaction. and there's nothing more that matters to vi on this earth than pleasing you. she'd be damned if she disobeyed you; but you can see that she's faltering.

you can feel her twitching, can see the telltale sign that she's about to erupt because she loves the taste of your pussy. she's come many times from just a drop on her tongue alone; now her mouth's been flooded with it. her senses are overwhelmed with you, and she's falling fast.

"vi," you breathe, inflicting a strict tone, the one that usually has vi whining. "don't you dare come. if you come, i'll be so disappointed and you won't be my good girl anymore."

vi's eyes grow teary, as if saying she can't hold on because you taste so good, smell so good. so you lift off her face, watch her gasp for air before she's saying, "please please please—" all needy, moaning pathetically as she watches you rub at your clit in fast circles. the wet slick sound of your cunt fills the room, along with your gasping moans as you start to cum again all over vi's face and—

"i'm, i'm sorry—!" vi breathes before she's crying out, eyes rolling back as she shakes beneath you. the sight of her losing it pushes you further, drawing out your orgasm until you have to rip your hand away with a whimper.

it's a minute before you're both able to calm down, still trembling with the force of a shared orgasm. you draw in a breath, close your eyes before you're shifting your body to lay on top of vi fully.

vi's got her eyes closed, mostly to avoid your potential disappointed gaze. but she doesn't resist when you dip your slick-coated fingers into her mouth, moaning as she suckles on them greedily.

"such a bad girl," you bemoan, taking in the tempting sight of vi greedily chasing your taste. "i told you not to come and what did you do?"

"...i came," she murmurs sadly around your fingers. "i'm sorry...i didn't—"

you take your fingers out of her mouth before gripping her chin between your index finger and thumb. you squeeze until she opens her eyes, all dejected like a bullied puppy dog. you smile at her, deceptively comforting before you're leaning in to give her a kiss.

"i know you're sorry," you whisper against her lips. "but i'm still upset so..." you trail a hand down until you're playing with the hair around her wet pussy. "you're gonna have to make me feel better."

vi swallows, the flush on her cheeks darkening, as she takes in a breath.

"will you be good this time?" you purr sweetly. "take your punishment like the good girl i know you are?"

the nod vi gives is frantic, her thighs closing around your hand when it slips down to tease at her clit.

"good girl."

[maedhrus]

#imo he's nothing like crozier at all tbh. bc crozier starts giving up the moment things start getting worse#he straight up stops caring. or at the very least avoiding his sense of care and responsibility through drink#making the worst calls ever bc he's angry all the time#when he goes fully alcoholic that's him avoiding his responsibility.#for everyone on those two ships. that's the entire point. it takes blanky losing a leg for crozier to think wait actually#i should be giving a fuck. bc that's my job!#and sure then he goes all redemption saviour arc but too bad! damage already been done by that point.#you know who carries on with a million burdens on his shoulders while crozier is off drinking himself into a stupour? edward.#every time i think abt it i get mad on edward's behalf like what do you MEAN you're still this loyal to a man who did all of that.#to you personally and to all the men on the expedition. how is there still any hope in you.#when people r like 'wow edward isn't suited to command he could not be a captain he's so anxious' i don't like that#he is anxious bc he wants to keep EVERYONE alive against all odds. and he never gives up even when he's scared out of his mind#and constantly abused by a direct supervisor whose condition he has to keep a secret from everyone else#idk this is a personal opinion but sometimes i feel like at the end on the shales when crozier is like 'no we need to bring everyone home'#i still feel like a big part of that is him looking for redemption. that he leans into this saviour complex#bc he feels extreme guilt over what he did. and bc he knows what his own rash decisions have led to re: feelings amongst the crew#nd when things go wrong he still takes that out on other people (like edward). which im not saying no one else out there is making mistakes#bc well they are. but personally! personally. i am a little tired of the way crozier is so often#painted as this flawless human being once they're out there on the shales. and im like actually he is still being a person#with conflicting emotions and being unfair sometimes and not always capable of assessing ur own mistakes#he's just as full of trauma as everyone else. (via @abrahamvanhelsings)

Matthew McNulty on Edward Little

Q:  At what point do you think Little begins to give up hope/worry about survival? A: I think Little's probably one of the most hopeful out of them all, simply because he has clung on to his humanity. I don't think he's compromised his morals up to this point, despite everything that's happened. So, I would say that he's still hopeful. He still thinks that humanity will prevail in this dark, dark world. There's definitely still a chunk of positivity in him.

[mylittlepimp]

It was meant to be a marriage of politics, and instead she finds herself as the caregiver. Surrogate mother most days.

Emperor Caracalla is sweet. Often child like. Innocent. But easily manipulated.

Emperor Geta is not as sweet or innocent. He's often angry. Hungry. Fearsome.

Both are troubled and unloved. Both somehow lean on her, and only her for their needs.

Emperor Geta loves to show her off during the day. Parade her around on his arm, dress her in the finest gold accessories and beautiful fabrics that compliment her skin. She's his after all. His wife.

But by night.

Emperor Caracalla seeks her comfort. To be held by her, while he mumbles on and on about how mean Geta is to him. She'll hold Caracalla's head in her lap, run her fingers through his hair, and she'll listen to him.

These routines have been going on for years.

Until Emperor Geta finds out that is.

Emperor Geta shouts at his brother, screaming at him like a rabid hound to stay away from his wife!

Emperor Caracalla is reduced to tears, begging on his knees to stay around her. He doesn't want to lose his only lifeline to the care, the love, and the longing he so desperately desires.

Emperor Geta throws his cup of wine at his brother. He won't hear of it. His brother's tears mean nothing to him. His begging pointless. She's his wife and he does not share with anyone!

(part 2)

Emperor Geta found his brother's tears to be weakness. She's his wife! Why the hell does his brother need her? He seeks the company of men! If his brother wanted a wife, Geta would've gotten him one!

Emperor Caracalla continues to cry and beg. No one else was nice to him the way that she is! No one saw him the way that she did! She's the only one that he feels can help him!

She can't take the tears anymore. She runs over to Emperor Caracalla, wrapping her arms around him, and shushing him while she rocks him back and forth.

Emperor Geta feels disgusted by this, he grabs her by the wrist pulling them apart.

Emperor Caracalla screams in protest as he tries to grab her hand and keep her.

She tries grabbing Emperor Caracalla's hand in return, but Emperor Geta yanks her away.

Emperor Geta decides to change how he treats her. At night he chains her to his bed, only by her wrist or ankle... Nothing more. As cruel as he's known to be, he does want her comfortable.

She's miserable. Sulking on the floor next to the bed. Being forced to listen to Emperor Caracalla cry at night or stumble around drunk. She wants to help him, but she can't.

In public Emperor Geta has added to her jewelry. A chain on her hand and wrist. He doesn't keep her physically confined to him, but he does make a display that she's only his. Trying his best to be... Somewhat discreet without drawing too much attention.

(visual representation of what I had in mind)

Of course it's only made from the finest gold. It matches every outfit he puts on her.

In public is the only time that she can see Emperor Caracalla. But they don't speak or interact together. They only exchange glances, small smiles, or looks. Like a silent conversation only they understand.

Emperor Caracalla looks miserable. Just as she feared. He tries replacing her every night with a different woman, but they aren't her.

Emperor Geta gets angry with his brother, finding his misery a distraction. Especially during their war plans and their gladiator games.

It finally gets to a point that Emperor Geta confronts his brother in a big argument. Wondering why he can't just get over her? Why can't he just move on? That wasn't Caracalla's wife he stole. In fact he didn't steal her at all! She's always been Geta's wife!

Emperor Geta looks at his brother confused. Assuming the worst that Caracalla, had infected Geta's wife with his disease this entire time.

But it wasn't about sex.

While Emperor Geta was seeking the comfort of other people at night. Geta would leave his wife alone. That's when she came across Emperor Caracalla, crying to his monkey about how horrible Geta was to him.

Emperor Caracalla stared at her for several minutes. He wasn't sure what to think or what to say. Eventually he offered her a grape.

She smiled at Emperor Caracalla's offer, even giggling a little.

Emperor Caracalla liked that. It made him smile in return. He decided to tell her silly stories, even acting out some of the scenes himself. Just to make her giggle.

She soon decided to add to Caracalla's stories. Doing her best to act out the scenes as well.

Emperor Caracalla started to like her. Especially since she was nothing like his brother and his other wives.

She made Emperor Caracalla comfortable, safe, and seen.

That's how she ended up in his quarters every night listening to him, comforting him, and making him feel seen.

When Emperor Geta walked into his brother's quarters and saw him with Geta's wife. That's why had assumed Caracalla poisoned Geta's wife.

But that wasn't the case.

Emperor Geta doesn't change his mind on keeping his brother away from Geta's wife. But now he knows what really happened.

She watches from around the corner, silently hoping that Emperor Geta will change his mind.

(part 3 soon)

@fandomsearcherforcuntymen

[woozinhos]

jeonghan jealous sex because you were being way too close to shua

Jeonghan had been watching you from across the room, his eyes narrowing as he saw you talking and laughing with Joshua. He knew that the two of you were just friends, but he couldn't help the jealousy that flared up inside him whenever he saw you being close to someone else.

As the night wore on, Jeonghan's irritation grew. He tried to ignore it, tried to focus on his own conversations and interactions, but he couldn't help stealing glances in your direction every now and then. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore. He walked over to where you were standing with Joshua and draped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you possessively against him.

"Hey, babe," he said, his voice a little sharper than usual. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

You looked up at Jeonghan, surprised by his sudden appearance and the tone of his voice. "Uh, sure," you said, glancing over at Joshua. "I'll be right back." Jeonghan led you away from the group, finding a secluded corner of the room where the two of you could talk in private. He pulled you close, his arm still wrapped tightly around your shoulders.

"What's going on?" you asked, looking up at him with a mixture of confusion and concern. "You seem...upset."

Jeonghan sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated. "I just...I don't like seeing you talking to Joshua like that," he admitted, his eyes flashing with jealousy. "You were laughing and joking around with him, and it just...it pissed me off."

You raised an eyebrow, a little taken aback by Jeonghan's outburst. "Jeonghan, Joshua is just a friend," you said, trying to reassure him. "There's nothing going on between us."

Jeonghan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, clearly not convinced. "I know that," he said, his voice petulant. "But I still don't like it. I don't like seeing you being so close to other guys."

You took a step closer to Jeonghan, looking up at him with a soft expression. "Jeonghan, you know I'm with you, right?" you said, reaching out to touch his arm. "I love you. There's no one else."

Jeonghan's expression softened a little as he looked down at you, but he still seemed upset. "I know that," he said again, his voice softer this time. "But sometimes I just...I don't know. I get jealous. I don't like seeing other guys getting close to you."

You reached up and cupped Jeonghan's face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "I understand," you said gently. "But you have to trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you or betray you. I love you, and I only want to be with you."

Jeonghan sighed and leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. "I know," he murmured, his voice tinged with guilt. "I'm sorry. I just...get insecure sometimes. I don't want to lose you."

You pulled Jeonghan into a tight hug, holding him close as you felt him relax in your arms. "You're not going to lose me," you said firmly. "I'm here with you, and I'm not going anywhere. I promise."

Jeonghan buried his face in your hair, breathing in your scent as he clung to you. "I love you," he whispered, his voice muffled against your shoulder. "I just...need to know that you're mine."

You and Jeonghan rejoined the group, Jeonghan's arm wrapped possessively around your waist. He seemed calmer now, his earlier jealousy replaced by a look of determination. As you mingled with the others, Jeonghan made sure to keep you close to him at all times. He didn't let you out of his sight, and anytime someone tried to pull you away from him, he would shoot them a glare and pull you back to his side. As the night wore on, Jeonghan's possessiveness only grew stronger. He seemed to have a constant need to touch you, whether it was holding your hand, resting his arm around your waist, or playing with your hair.

Every time someone tried to talk to you, Jeonghan would insert himself into the conversation, making sure to keep the interaction short and to the point. He didn't want anyone else getting too close to you, and he made that abundantly clear. Eventually, the party started to wind down, and people began saying their goodbyes. Jeonghan pulled you aside, his eyes burning with desire.

"Let's go home," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you all to myself." You nodded, feeling a shiver run down your spine at the look in his eyes. You said goodbye to the others and let Jeonghan lead you out of the party, his hand gripping yours tightly.

The ride home was silent, but the tension between you was palpable. Jeonghan kept shooting you heated glances, his eyes raking over your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. As soon as you walked through the door of your apartment, Jeonghan was on you. He pushed you up against the wall, his body pressed flush against yours as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over your body, touching and exploring every inch of you as if he couldn't get enough. He pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked at you with a hunger in his eyes.

"You're mine," he growled, his voice rough with desire. "Mine, and no one else's."

You gasped as Jeonghan's lips trailed down your neck, his teeth nipping at your skin as he marked you as his. His hands slid under your shirt, his fingers tracing the curve of your waist as he held you close.

"Say it," he demanded, his voice low and commanding. "Say you're mine."

"I'm yours," you whispered, your breath hitching as Jeonghan's lips moved lower, trailing down your collarbone and over your chest. "Only yours."

Jeonghan let out a satisfied growl at your words, his hands moving to unbutton your shirt. He pushed the fabric aside, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of your bare skin.

"Good girl," he murmured, his hands roaming over your chest as he pressed you harder against the wall. "You're so beautiful. All mine."

Jeonghan continued to shower you with kisses and praise, his hands and lips worshipping every inch of your body. He took his time, slowly stripping you down until you were naked and trembling beneath him.

"You're perfect," he said, his eyes raking over your body as he knelt before you. "So beautiful, so perfect for me."

He leaned in and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his breath hot against your skin. "I'm going to make you mine all over again," he promised, his voice low and husky. "I'm going to claim you, and make sure everyone knows who you belong to."

Jeonghan spread your legs apart, his hands gripping your thighs as he gazed up at you. His eyes were dark with desire, his expression possessive and intense.

"You're mine," he repeated, his voice almost a growl. "No one else gets to see you like this. No one else gets to touch you."

He leaned in and ran his tongue along your inner thigh, his touch sending shivers down your spine. He continued to tease you, his lips and tongue dancing over your skin as he worked his way closer to where you needed him most. You whimpered as Jeonghan's mouth finally found its way to your core, his tongue lapping at your folds with slow, deliberate strokes. He hummed in satisfaction, clearly enjoying the taste of you on his tongue.

"You taste so good," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "So sweet, so perfect."

He continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling against your clit as he brought you closer and closer to the edge. His hands gripped your thighs tightly, holding you in place as he worked his magic. You moaned and arched against him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he drove you closer and closer to the edge. His mouth was relentless, his tongue and lips working in perfect harmony to bring you the most intense pleasure.

"Jeonghan, please," you gasped, your body trembling with need. "I'm so close..."

Jeonghan hummed in acknowledgment, his grip on your thighs tightening as he continued to work you over. He knew exactly what you needed, and he was determined to give it to you.

"Cum for me," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Let go, sweetheart. I want to see you come undone for me."

With a few more skillful flicks of his tongue, you came undone, your body arching against him as you cried out his name. Jeonghan held you steady, his mouth working you through your orgasm as he drank in every moan and whimper that escaped your lips. When you finally came down from your high, Jeonghan pulled away, his eyes dark with desire as he looked up at you. He licked his lips, a satisfied smirk on his face.

"Good girl," he murmured, rising to his feet. "You did so well for me."

Jeonghan pulled you into his arms, holding you close as he carried you to the bedroom. He laid you down on the bed and crawled on top of you, his body pressing against yours as he claimed your lips in a searing kiss.

"You're mine," he whispered against your mouth, his hands roaming over your body. "All mine, and I'm going to show you just how much I want you."

Jeonghan's lips moved down your neck, his teeth nipping and sucking at your skin as he left a trail of marks in his wake. He continued to worship your body with his mouth, his hands mapping every curve and contour as he took his time exploring you. He pulled away for a moment to strip off his clothes, revealing his toned and muscular body. He crawled back on top of you, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at you.

"I need you," he growled, his voice rough with need. "I need to feel you around me."

You nodded, your body trembling with anticipation as Jeonghan positioned himself between your legs. He reached down and guided himself to your entrance, his eyes never leaving yours as he slowly pushed into you. He let out a low groan as he sank deep inside you, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he savored the feeling of being inside you.

"God, you feel so good," he whispered, his voice strained with pleasure. "You're so tight, so perfect for me."

Jeonghan began to move, his hips thrusting in a slow, steady rhythm as he claimed you. His hands gripped your hips, holding you in place as he drove into you again and again.

"You're mine," he growled, his words punctuated by each thrust. "Mine to touch, mine to claim, mine to love."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue tangling with yours as he poured all of his desire and passion into the kiss. Jeonghan's movements became more intense, his thrusts harder and faster as his jealousy and possessiveness took over. He pulled away from the kiss, his eyes dark with desire and anger.

"No one else gets to see you like this," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "No one else gets to touch you, to taste you. You're mine, and mine alone."

He gripped your hips tighter, his fingers digging into your skin as he drove into you with a primal intensity. Jeonghan's eyes blazed with anger as he continued to pound into you, his movements rough and possessive.

"Tell me," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Would Joshua make you feel this good? Would he fuck you like I do?"

You gasped at his words, the sound almost drowned out by the sound of skin slapping against skin. You knew he was trying to provoke you, to make you admit that no one could make you feel the way he did.

"N-no," you stammered, your body arching up against his as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. "No one but you."

Jeonghan's eyes darkened with satisfaction at your answer, his grip on your hips tightening as he continued to thrust into you.

"That's right," he growled, his voice rough with possessiveness. "You're mine. And no one else will ever touch you like this again."

He leaned down and captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue invading your mouth as he claimed you completely. Jeonghan pulled away from the kiss, his breath ragged as he looked down at you with a predatory gleam in his eyes.

"Take it," he commanded, his voice low and rough. "Take my big dick, sweetheart. Show me how much you want me."

You obeyed, your body arching up to meet his thrusts as you took him deeper. Your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you held on for dear life. Jeonghan's eyes roamed over your body, taking in the sight of you beneath him, completely at his mercy. He reached down and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "So perfect, just for me."

Jeonghan could feel himself getting closer to the edge, his thrusts becoming more erratic as he neared his climax. He leaned down and captured your lips in a rough kiss, his tongue plundering your mouth as he fought to hold on.

"I'm gonna come," he growled against your lips. "You're gonna make me come, sweetheart."

Jeonghan's thrusts grew faster and more powerful, his hips snapping against yours as he drove into you with an almost animalistic need. He could feel the pressure building inside him, his body tensing as he hurtled towards his release.

"Fuck," he groaned, his forehead dropping to rest against yours. "I'm so close, baby. Just a little more."

You could feel Jeonghan's body trembling above you, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to hold on. He was on the brink, teetering on the edge of ecstasy, and you knew that one more push would send him over the edge.

"Come for me," you whispered, your voice barely above a moan. "Come inside me, Jeonghan."

Your words were all it took to push Jeonghan over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you, his body tensing as he came with a shout. He collapsed on top of you, his chest heaving as he struggled to catch his breath. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close as he rode out the waves of his orgasm.

"Fuck," he gasped, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Jeonghan's grip on you tightened as he came down from his high, his body still trembling with the aftershocks of his orgasm.

"Take it all," he murmured, his voice hoarse with satisfaction. "I want to see it dripping out of you."

Jeonghan slowly pulled out of you, his eyes fixed on the sight of his release spilling out of you. He ran his fingers through the mess, a possessive glint in his eyes.

"Look at you," he said, his voice rough with desire. "All marked up and claimed by me."

[grandline-fics]

id like to request something - desperate kiss prompt with kid💗 love how you write him hihi

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Desperate Kiss

WARNINGS: none

CHARACTERS: Kid

WORDS: 822

A/N: Thank you for the request! I also didn't realise it's Kid's birthday until I was finishing this. I hope you like what I came up with for Kid and this particular prompt

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

Kid was always so self-assured, confident to the point some would call it arrogance. He was a true pirate, he wasn’t going to just roll over and let someone else take something he wanted. He also wasn’t going to just give up on pursuing something he wanted because someone was there first. Life was too short in his eyes to live anything but how he wanted and he did it unapologetically. Kid thought he was unshakable and never considered himself capable of hesitation. Then you had to come along and throw a wrench into his perception and the worst part? You had no idea what you did to him and with every passing moment of being around you he felt like he was slowly losing grip on the situation and going mad. 

On the calm, dark waters the Victoria Punk idly sailed through Kid had settled into his watch for the night. Knowing how bored Kid could get you decided to join him at least for a little while. To pass the time you shared a drink and idly chatted, mostly reminiscing about past adventures and tavern brawls. Which led you to talk about the most recent trip on shore that had gotten out of hand. 

“That poor guy didn’t have a clue what was happening.” You laughed with a small shake of your head. “Did you really have to punch him with your metal hand though?”

“Why not? Fucker had it coming.”

“Maybe it was the drink I had that night but I can’t remember him really doing anything to warrant a fight until everyone got involved.” You tired to focus your memory but still nothing came to mind. “I mean one minute he was boasting about his own crew then you appeared.”

“You forgot the part he tried to recruit you to his crew.” Kid explained and you gasped, reaching out to grab Kid’s arm as the memory sharpened. 

“That’s right!” You laughed, how could you have forgotten? Then you grinned broadly. “Were you scared I’d be sweet-talked into switching crews?”

“Don’t be a moron.” Kid scoffed, doing nothing to move away from your touch. “I wasn’t letting some nobody think he could take what’s mine.” Your smile stretched at Kid’s choice of words. You were part of the crew long enough to interpret what he’d been trying to say. You were his crew, a member of his family and he was a very possessive person and violently protective of the things that were important to him. To think his motivations went beyond looking out for a member of his crew wasn’t even in your mind to consider. 

“That’s what makes you the best Captain there is.” You smiled before finishing your drink. With a sigh you got up from your seat, taking his empty mug into your hand as well. Kid watched you carefully, his mouth falling into a scowl as he realised you were turning in for the night and he still had a handful of hours to endure a boring watch. You spotted his sour expression and mistook it for the earlier topic of conversation. Playfully you rolled your eyes and leaned down, pressing a kiss against your Captain’s forehead. “Promise I’m not going anywhere Captain. Stop worrying okay?”

You smiled and as much as you wanted to head straight to bed, you instead began to head for the kitchen to leave off the mugs you’d both been drinking from. The last thing you wanted was a lecture from Killer about the deck being left in a mess needlessly. Behind you, you could have sworn you heard Kid mutter ‘fuck this’ and thought he was cutting the rest of his watch short because of of how quiet it was. It wasn’t the first time he’d done something like that so it wasn’t entirely unexpected. What was unexpected though was when you heard his rushed footsteps drawing closer. As you reached for the door to the galley you were sharply turned and your back pushed against the solid wooden door. “Kid, what the-”

Before you could finish your question, Kid’s hand secured itself against your hip and his lips pressed hungrily and eagerly against yours. Fuelled purely by the desperate need for you to see him as more than just a Captain and desperate for you to finally see how he felt about you he couldn’t help but act the way he had. Against your lips, his arrogant grin crept in when he heard you drop the mugs in your hands as your mind caught up to what was happening. As the clattered loudly against the floor, you grabbed his arm and the back of his neck, returning the kiss at last with equal need. Inwardly he berated himself for doubting himself and hesitating making a move, because had he known kissing you would be like this he would have done this a long time ago.

——————————————-

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[inbabylontheywept]

Party Favors: Part 4

The ambassador went into great depth about the technical details of the ship. I stopped listening ten minutes in. I knew that I should care, that this was, in some way, my fault, but I just. I couldn't. Nothing that he said stuck. Insanity is frictionless - it can't be grasped. Anything that should slow it down just squeezes it somewhere else. Sometimes over, sometimes under, sometimes around or past. But never through. The only place to trap madness is inside, and I wasn't willing to open up for it. Seemed better to drown. So I drowned.

At some point the human looked over at me and froze in place. It spoke, and it was not a question. 

"You aren't listening." 

"No," I admitted. It was a relief to be caught. Pretending to pay attention is one of life's great traps - the longer one gets away with it, the harder it is to stop. The words pile up like debt, and the interest paid is the interest feigned. Some people lose years of their lives like that. I only lost a few hours. 

It tapped its fingers along the counter a few times, considering what to do. How to proceed. 

"Are you bored?" it asked. 

There was something vulnerable in the question. A shared secret. I had some idea of the place that boredom played in human culture. I was leery of imbuing my intention with that much meaning. 

"It is hard to pay attention," I said, careful in my phrasing. 

"Because it's boring?" the ambassador pressed. It did not seem hurt. It was matter-of-fact in its assessment. 

"Because I don't know what most of what you're saying means," I said. "I am not a tactician."

It tilted its head at me and inhaled hard, the translator crackling with the rush of air between bone. There was a whistle like death from above combined with a rattle like the echoes one could find on dead channels. 

It cleared the haze around its mouth enough for me to see it smiling again. 

"Not a tactician," it said in my voice. I'd have thought it was playing a record if I couldn't see its lips dancing behind the glass. It seemed to mull the statement over, mouth moving as if chewing the meaning apart. Biting and biting and biting.

"Why not?" it finally asked. 

I didn't know how to answer that, exactly. 

"I was busy becoming a diplomat," I said. "I don't have time to learn everything."

It inhaled again, the noise rasping, the mouth twisting down in disapproval. It didn't like this, but it needed to see. The clear vision through the visor was less haunting than I had feared. It was smoother than I thought it would be. Less sharp than its teeth. Sleek and hairless in a way that made me think of something aquatic. 

It looked at me with eyes white like stars, and it spoke. 

"You are short on time, so you are trying to be less? Do you think being small will save you? Or are you simply hoping to make it less noticeable when you are gone?"

I didn't know what to say. We watched each other as the slow trickle of smog filled the helmet up, until the sharpness covered in smooth skin got covered by thick, roiling smoke. 

"What is the fastest way to become a tactician?" I asked. It looked up at me, opaque as ever, considering the question for a few seconds before answering. 

"By seeing," it decided. "And I will show you such things."

Party Favors: Part 1

The ambassador asked me if I wanted a party favor. I was tempted, but human minds were notoriously resilient. What might bend their mind into an amusing shape for an hour or two could break mine altogether.

I declined. The ambassador shrugged in a way that made it very clear that he considered it my loss, before dropping several spoonfuls of the substance into a specialized port on his exosuit. By default, the visor was dark enough one could barely make out the dark outline of the creature's bulbous skull, but as smoke started to trickle up into the dome, even that was lost. Where I should’ve seen an alien face, there was my own dim reflection, twisted by the curvature of the glass and the slow roil of smog.

“It is rare to receive guests,” it said in my voice. As if stealing my face wasn’t enough. It was an unsettling but common convention for humans to borrow the voice of whoever they were talking to. The generous view of this was that they enjoyed being mirrors. Personally, I’d always viewed them as a species afraid of being observed. It is hard, to see the mirror underneath a reflection.

“Do you want more?” I asked.

I couldn’t see its face, but I could tell it was exhaling by the way vortices formed in the smoke.

“Yes,” it replied. “But I know my limits.”

It then carefully pushed the remaining pouch of powder towards the center of the table. The question of whether it had been talking about guests, or its recreation, suddenly grew fuzzy.

I decided to assume the best and plowed forward.

“Our colony by outpost Battan. It’s-”

“Struggling,” it finished. There was a glint of white inside the smoke, a hint of exposed wet bone. Weeks of study informed me this was intended to set me at ease.

“Yes.”

“Bad neighbors?”

The question was posed innocently enough, but it gave away the entire story. Twenty years of guerilla strikes, of blood and coin andlost life summed up in two words. A pathetically small conflict, and yet, large enough that the humans knew of it.

I did not answer. I stood still and watched my own face stare back. Humans loved games. I did not want to play.

It matched me again. Always the mirror. Coy when I was coy. Serious when I was serious.

“Any requests for how they are handled?”

“No unnecessary bloodshed.”

It inhaled deep enough to clear the smoke from the dome. My reflection was interrupted, replaced with the form of the thing in the suit. The lines of the face were murky enough but what shone brightest through the glass were its eyes - perfect paper white spheres, slick and shining. It seemed wrong for something to look so earnest and so hungry.

“That is not what humans are for.”

I could not decide if it was agreeing to or denying my request. I looked into its eyes as long as I could, as long as I could still make them out through the haze drifting up through the neck slot. Only when they were well and truly gone did I take my glove off, and reach across the table. It gripped my hand, clenched around it hard, and then let it go suddenly. I’d been told this meant the deal was sealed.

I should have just left. But I was always too curious, so I asked my final question.

“Why us? Why not them?”

“Because you came to me first,” it replied, as if the answer was obvious. “And I was very bored.”

It showed me the door very soon after that. I had the presence of mind to avoid running until I made it out of the building.

[wnderkoo]

🏎️ back to you | JKK

summary: in which a rainy day on track makes jungkook realise that there was someone else out there that cared about him

pairing: f1 driver!jungkook x reader

genre: fluff, mayhaps some angst??

author's note: hope you guys enjoy!! first post of 2025 ;) another a/n I COMPLETELY MESSED UP POSTING THIS???!! wrong title and forgot to add tags i might just retire atp

It only takes a split second for everything to change.

One moment you can be speeding down a straight at two hundred miles an hour, on track to set the fastest time of the grid, and the next you can be spinning out and crashing into the barriers.

Rainy days are always the worst for F1 drivers, when the roads are slick after a downpour and the tyres lose traction. Completely not ideal conditions for qualifying.

Jungkook had been struggling with his tyres all weekend, with issues arising during all the practice sessions. He had still managed to place in the top three each time, but not with many complaints to his race engineer over the radio.

The rain had given no warning before it started pouring down on the track, raindrops sliding across Jungkook's visor as he tried to manoeuvre through the new conditions.

It was bad enough that he was starting to slide on track, but nothing could have prepared him for the car impeding him up ahead.

It was necessary that cars on an out-lap, or cars that weren't trying to set a fast lap time, not be in the way of the cars that were.

Perhaps the car in front of him had slowed down because of the rain, abandoning their flying lap, or they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, but Jungkook had barely enough time to see him as he came speeding around the corner.

To avoid a collision, Jungkook swerves, but the lack of grip on the wet roads has him spinning out and crashing into the barriers. The impact isn't as harsh as it could've been, but Jungkook still feels the air getting knocked out of him. His race engineer is immediately in his earpiece asking if he's okay, and Jungkook only sighs before replying that he's fine.

The session is stopped for both the rain and removing Jungkook's mangled car from the track, and he's transported back to the garages by a safety car.

As he walks down the pit, he hears the commentators on one of the wall mounted TVs mentioning the lap times that had to be abandoned for the red flag. At the mention of a familiar last name, his heart wrenches.

Your brother had also been on a flying lap, and he had gone fastest in the first two sectors and was on track to setting the fastest time of the session when Jungkook had crashed. Jungkook hadn't been particularly affected, but realising he had ruined your brother's lap time made him feel worse.

After all, your brother was the reason you and Jungkook had met.

You had come to a few of the races this season to support your brother and had met his teammate. Your first impression of Jeon Jungkook, apart from being undeniably attractive, was that he was arrogant.

He had won two World Championships and was on podiums every weekend, he held himself to a high standard and drove like he had nothing to lose.

After your brother had moved to his team, their relationship had started off rocky. The two of them both wanted to win, and sometimes they fought each other too harshly on track and risked losing everything for the team.

The persona that Jungkook played into made you not like him much at first. He constantly pushed your brother to the limits and put both of them in dangerous positions. He was cocky and the articles about him that circulated every weekend didn't do much to help his image.

As the season went on, and they started putting the team before their pride, Jungkook and your brother became good friends, and now they had an incomparable synergy that led to massive points for the team every race.

It was only after the mid-year break that you started to see him in a new light. Your brother had invited him on your vacation for some team bonding, and the forced proximity had shown you that there was more to Jungkook than he let show.

He had taught you how to ski, being so patient and supportive, that you wondered why he would let others perceive him as the complete opposite.

That holiday had bloomed something unexpected, and although you liked to pretend like Jungkook didn't affect you, you both knew there was an undeniable chemistry between you.

Though, for all his douchebag moments, Jungkook knew to stay away from you. You were his teammate's sister after all. So the teasing and flirting never turned into anything more- no matter how much both of you secretly wished it would.

As Jungkook approaches the team garage, he hopes he doesn't see you. He can't bear to see your face after knowing he messed up the perfect chance for your brother to start at the front of the grid for tomorrow's race.

Since he had crashed towards the end of the session, your brother couldn't improve on his previous time, and was only 8th fastest at the conclusion of qualifying. While he would still have a good chance for the winning spot, it made it harder, and Jungkook could only blame himself, which meant you would too.

He sees you standing in one of the corners of the garage, looking up at the TV as a replay of the crash plays. He can just make out your furrowed eyebrows and your hands covering your mouth in shock as you watch Jungkook spin out and hit the barrier.

The next scene cuts to a replay of the radio message where your brother is forced to abandon his flying lap, your brother's disappointment and frustration ringing loud in Jungkook's ears.

As if sensing him, you turn around, meeting Jungkook's eyes straight away. He doesn't even have the chance to blink before you're rushing toward him, almost tripping over nothing as you speed across the garage.

Jungkook braces himself, expecting you to push or shove him while yelling at him, but instead you're crushing yourself against him and leaving him utterly confused.

His arms come up hesitantly and wrap around you and Jungkook soon realises the small tremors he frels are coming from you.

"__? What happened?"

When your head lifts off his racing suit, Jungkook takes in your teary eyes and his heart splinters.

"What happened?!" you mock, before sniffing loudly.

"One second you're on the track and the next your car is halfway into the barriers!"

Your fists grip the material of his suit tightly, as if you were trying to assure yourself that Jungkook was still in one piece, and Jungkook can't help but smile.

You cared about him.

You always acted indifferent towards him in public, rolling your eyes at every flirty comment and acting annoyed by his teasing. But underneath it all, you cared about Jungkook. Always wishing for his safety when he's out on track and celebrating every overtake. Though he may not know some of those things, he now knew you payed more attention to him than you let on.

And that was enough for him.

He brings your head against his chest once more, and hearing the thump of his heartbeat through the material of his clothes calms you down more than he could ever know.

"Those cars are built for a bomb, sweetheart,"

he whispers against your hair, holding you close.

"I'll always come back to you."

absolutely obsessed with f1 driver jungkook.

@lovingyou-lovee

[j-partneringrime]

tr!aimsey is such an interesting character especially their relationship with death, they’re someone who has become so intrinsically linked with death, starting as a morbid fascination with learning more about it which became more and more obsessive until he eventually overstepped trying to directly mess with it. And now it is a more desperate fascination with it and specifically trying to figure out how to reach it for themselves which unlike the normal curiosity that they went too far with, this is the opposite, a much more serious and desperate curiosity which he have basically given up on trying to figure out at this point. Because once death wants something, it gets it, which normally isn’t that big a deal because death normally wants you to die, which is gonna happen eventually, so no big deal. But if you mess with death too much and it decides it doesn’t want you anymore, that isn’t as simple, death actually gets to show its power, so it takes your magic you used to disrupt it to begin with, but that’s not enough for death, so it gives you immortality, or more accurately curses you with never dying since they can still feel the pain and the dying but without any of the relief of death and the pain stays with them even after coming back, with the burns from losing her magic, losing his eye from the enderman/creeper and now the sword slash from ros. They had nothing anymore except their studies and so she put everything into necromancy and learning more about death, and they did good, they got close, so close that death didn’t like it, so then they truly had nothing, not even their magic, they lost everything, even the one thing you always have in life, the certainty of death, was gone.

That could make you become such a deeply lonely person, I mean imagine if you lost everything, had no one, not even death itself wanted you, that would mess you up, but she has had a long time to come to terms with it and grow from it, which also means she’s one of the most intelligent, especially emotionally intelligent, people, which meant that when they did get close to people again, they were a massive help for advice and help for their friends, which is good for their friends but also for aimsey themself, having that connection that they need after so long, having meaningful talks gives a connection you can’t explain, even if those meaningful talks are mostly one way, since aimsey is very secretive about themself and her past and almost refuses to say anything about herself and dismisses any attempt to try to get him to open up, but even with all that, it is still massively helpful for a character who needs connection so much.

Until eventually his friends, especially tr!ros get too strong an idea in her head on what they should do or what she “needs” to do that even though she’s still coming everyday for advice, she doesn’t seem to actually be listening anymore, it didn’t matter how many times they tried to help ros, she just wouldn’t budge from this inherently flawed idea that she is convinced will help her, and everyone else, which isn’t just bad for ros but also for aimsey, who has needed this connection so much and has begun to rely on it, even if it’s annoying that he’s seemingly the only person who actually has common sense or foresight with how much advice she’s having to give out, they’ve gotten used to being able to express their thoughts and opinions on situations and having their friends listen and care so seeing that they’re no longer really listening and are just doing their own ideas anyway would really hurt. Trying to help and make plans to help ros, only to show up the next day and find out she hasn’t actually listened and just took what aimsey said and used their plan instantly without seeing that that wasn’t the actual plan aimsey said to her. So the advice and talks eventually became more desperate trying to get through to ros because this isn’t her, this is her getting tired of what’s happening and needing to fix it so forming an entire idea in her head without seeing that this idea wouldn’t work and already isn’t working because she needs it to work, so it didn’t matter how much aimsey tried to get through to her, it wouldn’t work, until eventually they talk about where this idea in ros’s head is rooted, which is respect, the idea that if she can get them to respect her, they’ll stop, which she is going about doing by making them fear her, even though fear and respect are vastly different things. And aimsey says that to her which leads to the most important question they’ve had, would ros kill aimsey to get everyone to respect and or fear her, and when aimsey asks ros this, their closest friend, the person they trust more than anything, the person they can count on, that they can both count on each other to pull each other back, to save each other from themselves, they ask ros… and ros hesitates, and that’s all they need to know, the fact that ros could hesitate means that in her head there is a part of her that would and that part just seems to be getting bigger and bigger the more she spirals in this idea of respect. And then ros says no, which as much as she says it, isn’t the truth, the truth is she doesn’t know if she would or not, and that’s the worst part, not only would she consider doing it but she won’t admit it, to aimsey or herself, they’re supposed to be helping each other and ros instead of being honest and saying she doesn’t know, lies and says no, of course not, she could never hurt him, which is of course coming from a place of love for aimsey and not wanting to ever think about and especially not say they’d ever hurt her, but to someone as perceptive as aimsey, they can clearly tell ros is conflicted on it and even though know they know ros is a good person, of course she is obviously, that was never in question, but even knowing what a truly kind person ros is, that doesn’t change the pain learning something like that has. So aimsey pulls them up on it and makes ros confront that side of her, for good or bad doesn’t matter, because it needs to happen to help ros, one way or the other, and so they convince her to fight, which or course ros tries to argue about but still tries to make aimsey see her side of it, still not seeing that her side doesn’t really exist, it’s just a desperate attempt to stop the fighting by any means, by any cost, not seeing that no fighting, no threats should ever make them turn on each other, would ever make aimsey turn on ros, especially not to gain some form of respect from the people they already don’t like. Ros is too caught up in protecting her friends that she can’t see her friends don’t need protecting, aimsey doesn’t need protecting.

And you can see how deeply this is affecting aimsey because they’re talk about how they’re glad they chose to be alone, they’re with their best friend and they’re saying how they’re glad to be alone, because right now this isn’t their best friend, or at least not that they can recognise right now, because he has spoke so much about how everyone is killing just to kill and how that is one of, if not the, biggest problems they have with them, so for ros to now believe that she needs to do that to aimsey to “protect” them and gain respect from others, even though she already has aimsey’s and the kingdom’s respect (mostly), is obviously gonna be upsetting for aimsey and a massive loss of trust. And they start fighting, they both swing, and then they both swing again, then aimsey stops and ros swings again and then ros swings one last time and aimsey is dead, but of course, it doesn’t last. Because if one of them was gonna die, they’d rather it be themselves, if that’s because they can’t actually die or because they can’t bring themselves to kill ros, we don’t know (although it’s probably almost definitely both). But either way ros still doesn’t get to live, because she killed aimsey and death doesn’t want that happening, the past times it’s been a mob but this time it’s a player, and they won’t allow that to happen, so it instantly makes one of its already dead kill ros… instantly, because you don’t mess with death or the ones death has already chosen to punish itself. And after the fight, his relationship with death comes back up, with her asking, basically begging, death to let them go and just let them die, but of course, they were denied again, because even after all that with ros, they still can’t have anything, everything they want always so close yet so far, always. And then after they both parted ways after the fight, aimsey when thinking about going to ros, thinks ros won’t want to see them, instead of themself not wanting to see her, after the fight, he doesn’t stew in what ros did and get angry, he just kinda goes crazy (and high and poisoned), both because of what happened with ros and also probably experiencing death again. Because even though, they just fought and definitely lost a lot of trust in each other, they still care about each other and want to protect each other above all else, because the amount of trust they have in each other, one fight, no matter how big, will change that. tr!aimsey is SUCH an interesting and compelling character, and their relationship with death and tr!ros especially is amazing! I can’t wait to see what happens next.

(this is mainly about tr!aimsey so tr!ros comes off a bit bad from their arguments, but I promise I think tr!ros is a genuinely good person, just conflicted right now and she is also an amazing and interesting character)

[uckk]

some au art while i yap a little about it:3 (sorry if its all over the place and probably too long, i dont usually make posts like this)

after jesse and the rest get teleported to the sunshine institute theyre stuck in there for wayy longer than they were in the game. in the meantime the scene from episode 4 with lukas and the admin happens and after that it doesnt take that long for him to realize that its not actually jesse so at one point he confronts the impostor about it. romeo reveals himself and while usually he would just send lukas to the sunshine institute, he knew that he was a friend of jesse and believed that having one of his friends by his side would prevent more people from getting suspicious of him.he offered to let lukas continue living in beacontown as long as he doesnt reveal this to anyone else and act like his friend around people (kinda like olivia and axel did except he would have to stay close to the admin most of the time to not reveal his secret) and at first lukas wanted to turn down the offer but quickly realized that he has no idea what would happen if he did so and staying in beacontown would mean he could make sure nothing bad happened to anyone and form a plan to take down the admin.

time went by and the new ocelots formed and whenever lukas was away from the admin he would plan with the ocelots on how to take him down. he didnt realize that romeo knew from the start that something like this would happen but waited for the moment they were actually confident that they could win to then step in and make the new ocelots dissapear right in front of lukas who believed they died (ofc they didnt, romeo just teleported them away making lukas believe they got killed) which in his eyes was to teach lukas a lesson. after that lukas changed his goal from taking down the admin to making sure that doesnt happen to anyone else as he was convinced that there is no stopping him. from that moment he spent most of his time near the admin and when he wasnt with him he was making sure no one did anything that could make romeo angry which made him become colder towards everyone even tho he just wanted to protect them. having the pressure of keeping everyone safe while not angering the admin caused him to become more paranoid and lose hope of the real jesse ever returning.

this obviously isnt the full story but i might make a second part for this post if anyone would be interested :3 i also apologize if some things wouldnt make sense to the games story, im bad at remembering stuff so might have got some things wrong!!!!

[rhiannonsknife]

okay, i don't wanna give spoilers, since you said you hadn't finished it, so.. first episode feels safe ??

fucking your cousin's is normal. it's a vault, there's limited selection. nobody blames you. but fucking your best friend.. well, that's a little much for lucy. not because your a girl. no, that's not- that has nothing to do with it, she promises. she just doesn't want to change your bond, that's all.

or super convoluted way to say lucy has a crush on you and refuses to admit it. mayb ?? idk if this makes sense sorry

also first ask i've sent that's not just conversation, so.. should probably put a name to my claim.

- 🦴 ( if possible </3 )

── KISS ME ONCE, THEN KISS ME TWICE, THEN KISS ME ONCE AGAIN

— summary: you and lucy decide to ‘practice’.

— warnings: friends to lovers. mostly fluff with some nsfw-ish content. so mdni.

the hum of the vault’s fluorescent lights buzzes overhead, the sound so constant it’s easy to forget it’s there at all until everything else is silent.

you and lucy are sprawled on the bed in her quarters, your shoulders pressed together as you share the same faded book, its pages worn from years of careful reading. the vault’s limited library doesn’t get restocked, after all.

“you ever think about what’s out there?” you ask suddenly.

lucy doesn’t look up from the pages, though her grip tightens slightly, the paper under her thumb crumbling. “not really,” she lies.

“come on!” you press, nudging her with your elbow. “you’ve never wondered what it’s like? the open sky, fresh air…”

at that, she snorts. “fresh air? you know the stories! it’s nothing but radiation and monsters out there!” lucy flips the page, her eyes fixed on the paragraph in front of her.

you roll onto your side, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at her. “you don’t think everyone out there is bad. you’re too nice for that!”

she finally glances at you, her lips quirking into a small smile. “you think i’m nice?”

“well, of course,” you say, your tone teasing. “i mean, you could just tell me to shut it and read the book, but here we are!”

lucy laughs, a quiet, breathy sound, and looks back down at the book. she doesn’t turn the page.

“okay, maybe i do think about it,” she admits after a moment.

it reminds you of childhood. of sitting in the quiet dark of the quarters, exchanging hushed secrets in the comfort of her presence.

“but not the way you do! you’ve got this whole…” she gestures vaguely, her eyes flicking back to yours. “…adventure thing in your head. like the outside world’s just waiting for you to show up and save it single-handed!”

“and you don’t?”

“nope.” she smiles. “i mean- eventually. once it is safe for all of us to return back. maybe our children will?” she clears her throat and nudges you with her shoulder. “anyway, why would i want to leave when I’ve got you around to drive me crazy?”

you grin, making a point of ignoring the way her words make your heart flutter. “lucky, lucky you!”

“don’t i know it?” she says, rolling her eyes, but her smile lingers, softer now.

the silence settles again, this time heavier with the book no longer her only focus. you don’t notice but lucy’s eyes keep darting your way, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of the paper.

she’s fighting a battle in her head. one she’s been losing for weeks, maybe months.

lucy’s been told, more than once and by multiple sources, that making out with your cousin, for example, is normal. perhaps expected, even, just to have some sort experience secured.

but wanting you? her best friend ever since she can remember? that’s something different. something that makes her palms sweat and her stomach twist in ways she can’t explain whenever she tries to picture it.

“hey,” you say suddenly, pulling her out of her spiral. “are you okay?”

“yeah,” she says quickly, her voice too bright. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“you’re fidgeting,” you point out, reaching to still her hand.

the touch is light, casual even. something you’ve done a hundred times before. but it feels different now, with pictures of your lips on hers flashing through her mind. lucy knows it’s not your fault. it’s hers. it’s always hers.

“i’m fine,” she insists, pulling her hand away and crossing her arms. “just…tired, i suppose,”

you don’t look convinced, but you let it go, lying back down and turning your attention to the book. lucy stays sitting up, her eyes on you instead of the page.

she shifts awkwardly, trying not to fidget again. you've started having that effect on her, and it's driving her crazy.

“you know,” you say suddenly as if you'd been reading her mind. “people in the vault are always talking about how it's normal to…y'know, experiment?”

lucy's head jerks toward you so quickly it's a miracle she doesn't pull a muscle.

“experiment?”

“yeah," you hum. “like...with other people…everyone says it's no big deal. ‘limited options,' and all that!”

she swallows hard, her palms suddenly clammy again. “uh...sure,” she says, trying to sound disinterested. “i mean, that's just how it is, right? have to keep the gene pool going or whatever,”

now it’s your turn to snort. “i'm not talking about marriage and babies, lucy. i mean..." you trail off. “practice.”

“practice?” she echoes, her voice an octave too high, the words catching in her throat.

“for when we do get married someday,” you clarify, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. there's a pause before you quickly add: “not to each other, obviously,”

lucy feels like her brain is short-circuiting all over again. you can't just say things like that and expect her to function like a normal person. “right….gee, of course not to each other!” she parrots.

you sit up fully now, visibly excited. “but think about it! vault life does mean limited options, right? most people are already making out with their cousins to 'prepare for marriage!” you pull a face, the very idea making you wrinkle your nose in distaste.. “at least this way, we're...helping each other out. as friends!” “as friends,” lucy repeats, as if saying it out loud will make it true. “you…you’re serious?” her voice wavers, and it’s humiliating. god, why couldn’t she just sound normal?

“why not?” you shrug. “it's not like it has to mean anything!”

she wants to tell you it already does. that it's meant something to her for as long as she can remember. that it could never not, when it’s with you.

but instead, she stammers, “i- i don't think-“

“oh, come on!” you tease, your grin widening. “what? are you scared?”

that does it. lucy always had a stubborn streak, and you’ve learned exactly how to poke it.

“i'm not scared,” she insists, sitting up straighter.

“then prove it!”

lucy freezes. the air between you charged with something she doesn’t quite know how to name. every ounce of logic in her brain is screaming bad idea, but it’s drowned out by the overwhelming desire to close the space between you. just this once. ust for the sake of practice.

“this is...for practice,” she says finally, the words shaky, as if she’s reminding herself more than you.

“exactly.” your voice is soft now, steady. reassuring.

she hesitates for a heartbeat longer, her eyes searching yours for any sign that this is some cruel joke, a trap, a mistake. but all she sees is you: familiar and warm and impossibly close. before she can talk herself out of it, lucy leans in.

the kiss is tentative at first, her lips brushing yours with a softness that surprises even her. it’s careful, until you don’t pull away. when you lean into her instead, it deepens. the warmth of your mouth sends a jolt through her entire body, a shiver that starts at the base of her spine and works its way up.

her hands hover uncertainly in the air before finding your shoulders and holding on for dear life. lucy senses you smiling against her lips, and feeling the curve of your mouth against her own sends her poor heart stumbling in her chest. stumbling, then falling. falling deeper than it ever has before.

your lips taste like the chapstick she applied on them earlier, reasoning that they’d been looking a little too dry when -in reality- all she wanted was an excuse to get to see you from up close.

now, that same gloss smears against lucy’s own, leaving the faint taste of cherry in her mouth. she wants to taste of cherry everywhere, overcome with an unexplainable urge to drown in the flavor altogether: a sweet trail drawn slowly along the zipper of her vault jumpsuit. perhaps even lower, after, so that when you’ll come back up to lucy’s mouth, you’ll taste of her instead of cherries and she’ll get a taste of that, too.

when you are the one to pull back first, heat rushes to her cheeks. you're both breathing a little harder, the space between you buzzing with something electric.

“well,” you begin, your tongue darting out to wet those lips. lucy finds herself watching, mesmerized. “that wasn't so bad, was it?”

her heart is pounding so loudly she's sure you can hear it from where you’re sitting. “uh...no. not bad!”

you grin, leaning back on your hands like nothing monumental just happened.

“we're definitely ready for marriage now,” you conclude, teasing.

later that night, after she’s made sure that the doors to her room are locked, lucy slumps down into the comfort of her bed.

her pillow is still crumpled where you sat earlier.

when lucy presses it between her legs, her face in the bedsheets to stifle her sighs, she smells cherries.

the door to lucy’s quarters hisses shut behind you.

lucy stumbles backward, her lips already pressed to yours, her hands fumbling against the curve of your waist to steady herself. the room feels smaller than usual, the bed barely a few feet away.

“just…practice…” she murmurs between kisses, her voice breathless and a little shaky.

“exactly,” you whisper back, your lips brushing hers again before moving to her jaw.

lucy hums in agreement, though the way her hands tighten on your waist as your lips find her neck suggests she’s not really thinking about marriage prep, potential husbands, or the repopulation anymore.

after that first kiss, something shifted between you. something neither of you could explain but could not resist either. what once was supposed to be casual, a vault-sanctioned form of bonding, a way to keep things ‘normal’ in an environment that was anything but had turned into something way more the moment your lips touched hers that night in her quarters. ‘normal’ went out the window then.

it’s become a familiar pattern over the last few weeks: a fleeting glance across the cafeteria, a brush of hands in the halls, a whispered promise to meet later when no one’s around.

not that you ever talked about it. with all the rules in vault 33, the unspoken one between you both was the most important of all: keep it light, keep it safe. you never pushed further than kisses, never ventured beyond the safety of your blue and yellow vault suits. anything else would be too much, too real.

still, it didn’t matter how many rules you set for yourselves; staying away wasn’t an option. not anymore.

lucy’s back hits the edge of the bed, and she lets out a quiet laugh, her cheeks flushed. “we’re getting really good at this,” she teases.

you grin, leaning down to press another kiss to her lips. “we’re dedicated to the craft,”

her laugh softens into a sigh as you pull back slightly and she can’t chase your mouth with hers, your foreheads touching.

“this isn’t weird, right?” she asks suddenly, her voice quieter now.

you tilt your head, brushing your nose against hers and drawing another chuckle from her. “weird?”

“yeah.” lucy swallows. “i mean, we’re best friends. and we’re…”

“practicing,” you finish for her.

“right,” she nods quickly. “practicing!”

you don’t say what you’re both thinking: that this doesn’t feel like what it was supposed to be. that it never did, to begin with.

instead, you kiss her again, slow and deliberate, letting the moment stretch. lucy’s hands finally settle on your waist, pulling you closer as her nerves melt away.

all these weeks of making out under the disguise of practicing for a hypothetical marriage neither of you had ever shown any interest in had been good already. great, even. better than anything else you’ve ever known. which truthfully isn’t that much, but it still counts for something that you’re more than willing for lucy to be your first.

the only inconvenience to your little escapades would come later, after sneaking out of her room: the shameful feeling of your arousal, a stubborn reminder that you could not truly be casual about any of this.

still, leaving lucy’s quarters with your wetness pooling between your legs uncomfortably would always be worth having the little of her that you'd been granted.

perhaps one day, it would actually feel like enough. until then, you'll continue with the familiar pattern you've both fallen into. you'll let her touch you through the way too restrictive fabric and say a little prayer that, one of these days, she will go straight for the zipper instead.

[vhagarys]

Sired (mini series)

aemond x reader, aegon x reader

PT. 1

summary: you are elated at the celebration that awaits on your eight and tenth name day. little do you know, you brothers have an unexpected surprise for you.

warnings: vampires, canon-typical incest (its the targaryens love), dub-con, smut, blood-drinking, manipulation?, all hail king daemon, siring?, probably more but I can’t think of any.. oops

MDNI

Ten and eight.

Your name day.

Twas a highly awaited day for you and your family both. While you were giddy with excitement for the festivities celebrating your womanhood, you’d little thought as to what exactly would await you.

See, what your family so carefully evaded from you was that the Targaryen dynasty were bestowed gifts in more ways than one. The blood of the dragon coursed through their veins, but so did something else.

A hunger.

On a Targaryen’s eight and tenth name day, the gift of immortality is bestowed upon them.

The dynasty has long reigned as the most feared and most powerful lineage in Westeros from this unique endowment.

Your naivety could almost be pitied as you fussed about the lacing of the scarlet gown you would don on your special day. Grinning like a cheshire cat, your older siblings watched you and your servants pick out jewels and embroidery to stitch onto the neckline.

“Why are we forbidden from speaking of the ritual? Shouldn’t we enlighten our dear sister on the events to ensue on the morrow?”, your sister Helaena frowns as she fiddles with her ring.

Aegon hummed, “I agree, dear sister. But, we mustn't worry her. Look at how excited she is to-”

“The ritual is a rite of passage. Tis a gift given only to us. That in itself is worth celebrating,” your older brother Aemond interrupted, closely following every small movement of his beautiful sister.

Aegon hummed once again, this time in agreement.

Both of your brother's eyes fixed upon your form. Your supple breasts now filled in the bodice of your gown, the soft flesh spilling over. Hips curved and full, your body was ripe and ready for child bearing, which of course did not go unnoticed by your brothers.

No, not when their hands tugged at their weeping cocks to the sound of your voice, to the soft touch of your skin against theirs, the sweet smell oozing from beneath your skin, pumping through your veins.

Aemond’s member twitched eagerly as you pulled the final layer of your gown over your head, leaving you in nothing but your small clothes. His eyes quickly averted to his brother, who chewed into his bottom lip to the point of drawing blood.

Sharp canines poked through his plump lips, Helaena lightly slapped Aegon’s arm and hissed under her breath.

“Control yourself, brother.” His eyes remained glued to you as you bent down to grab your afternoon camise, lavender eyes filling with red as a low growl emitted from his throat.

Just as he went to take a step towards you, the commanding voice of your mother broke through his thoughts.

“Aegon. Come with me.” The queen dowager walked towards them.

“Mother!” Your eyes lit up as your mother graced you with a loving smile.

“Hello, my love. Are you excited for the morrow?” Alicent sauntered towards you and lightly took your chin into her hands.

You beamed. “Very, is there anything I may help with?”

“No, sweet girl,” your mother kissed your forehead.

She turned on her heels, and you missed the look she shot towards your siblings as they quietly followed her out of the room, no words spoken.

That was odd.

They followed her into the adjacent room where she ushered them inside.

Alicent’s eyes were stern as she took a step towards Aegon.

The back of her hand graced the side of his cheek, snapping his head to the side as a pink handprint bloomed onto his pale skin.

“What were you thinking! Losing control of yourself like that in front of her!” She fumed.

Eyes cast down, he murmured, “I wasn’t thinking mother, please, forgive me.”

Aemond couldn’t help but scoff at him, his brother never exhibiting an ounce of self-restraint when it came to you.

Alicent’s eyes shot to her other son. “Keep him in line until the ritual, for the sake of our house. Please Aemond,” who only wordlessly nodded as the queen dowager stormed from the room.

Every fiber in his body wanted nothing but to give you another visit, the only thing stopping Aegon from forsaking his mother’s words was his sire bond.

During the ritual, one must first be bitten by another Targaryen to begin the transition. A sire bond between them is then formed, creating an innate urge within the newly turned to please the one who helped bring them into the world of immortality.

In tradition of their house, the father performs the siring ritual to each of his children. However, as King Viserys met his sudden end several moons past, Alicent performed in his place for each of her three oldest children.

Upon his death, your family named his brother, Daemon Targaryen, as the new king of Seven Kingdoms, your half-sister Rhaenyra his queen.

Them, along with other members of your family all gathered to celebrate the eve of your anticipated celebration.

You were sat next to one of your childhood friends, Sylvia, whilst the rest of your family chattered and indulged themselves.

“Are you nervous?” Sylvia turned to you as you stuffed another biscuit in your mouth.

You giggled. “And whatever is there to be nervous about? It will be a joyous occasion!”

You and your friend missed the quick glances from others at the table, unaware of their eavesdropping.

She leaned in closer, a look of worry within her features.

“I heard whispers in the wind that a sacrifice is required for the ceremony.”

Your heart spiked momentarily.

Just as you were about to question your friend further, a presence behind you pulled you fron your conversation.

“May I steal my sister for a moment?” Aemond offered his hand which you reluctantly took, your friend quick to avert the steely gaze of your brother.

Joyous music rang through the dining room as friends and family danced and laughed together. Aemond pulled you into the throes of people and wrapped his hand around the small of your waist.

He began to sway the both of you as the sour smell of anxiety invaded his nose.

“Brother, is there something regarding the ritual I am not yet aware of?”

He pulled you closer, inhaling the vanilla and cherries on your skin.

“Everything will be just fine, dear sister.” He rubbed small circles in the small of your back as the sweet tang of your blood broke through the sweetness of your perfume.

His breath hitched.

You looked up at him.

Something didn’t feel right.

There was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Pardon me, brother. I must refresh myself in the washroom,” you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before scurrying towards your friend, grabbing Sylvia’s hand before dragging her out of the room.

“Tell me what else you know,” your eyes frantically searched hers for answers after shutting the door behind the pair of you.

“I-I heard that the Targaryens possess a hunger inside of them. O-one of unholiness.”

Surely this was a jest?

You couldn’t shake the unease this warning brought upon you.

Your feet moved faster than your mind as you ran out and made a beeline towards your mother, desperate for some sort of explanation to ease your confusion.

Just as you were about to reach her, you were promptly swept off of your feet by your brother Aegon.

“There she is! The most important girl in the Seven Kingdoms!” You could smell the wine on his breath as he paraded you around the dance floor.

“Brother, please. Please set me down.” His eyes searched yours as an odd look of realization washed over his features.

Without explanation, he made quick work of whisking you out of the dining room and into the library across the hall.

The blood in your veins pumped loudly in your ears as he set you down.

“B-brother, please explain to me what is happening at the ceremony. I know there is something being withheld from me.”

He stopped abruptly in front of you, admiring how beautiful his dear sister looked in the light of the fire. A true Targaryen, he thought.

Perhaps it was the wine coursing through his veins, perhaps it was the desire to finally taste you that had the words tumbling from his lips.

“Have you ever wondered why our dear uncle, the king, has barely aged a day in decades?” He slowly circled behind you.

Vanillas and cherries. He inhaled you.

“I h-hadn’t thought of it, perhaps its-”

“Perhaps it’s because he is unlike a normal being. Perhaps none of us are,” he enjoyed watching the gears turning in your little head as his words filtered through your ears.

Poor, confused little girl, he smiled down at you.

He grasped the bottom of your chin and glazed over your soft features, your insatiably plump lips he so wished to devour.

All the while, you fiddled and picked at your nails beneath your skirts, a nasty habit you developed whenever you were anxious.

PIcking and picking, the unmistakeable scent of blood soon overtook his senses.

A low moan escaped him as he gently reached for your hand.

Trembling, you watched your brother inspect your bloodied nail bed.

“I am fine brother,” you tried to pull away but was effectively stopped as he brought your finger up to his lips and into his mouth.

You were so stunned by the queerness of his actions that you sat frozen in your seat.

Moaning louder, you were met with eyes filled with scarlet.

He looked other-worldly. You couldn’t seem to remove your eyes from your brother.

He smirked down at you as he released your fingers.

“You taste delicious, little zaldrīzes,” (dragon) his tone shot a shiver down your spine.

Cold fingers twirled through the strands of your hair. You couldn’t help but lean into it.

Aegon smiled at your pliancy. He was consumed by the urge to claim you, have you in every way imaginable.

And now he would take it.

Pushing your silver locks behind your ear, he absentmindedly traced circles into the skin of your neck.

“You’re just in time, brother,” Aegon finally acknowledged his brother who stood at the entrance of the door, observing the scene between the two of you.

As if hypnotized, your eyes remained locked on Aegons, your other brother taking his time as he waltzed over to the two of you.

“Well, what do we have here, hm?” His eyes immediately found purchase on your exposed neck, fidgeting in his place.

“Oh, I was just ensuring our dear sister was alright, it appears she cut herself. Look, brother.” He brought your fingers up to his lips and kissed them lightly, delighted to see how uncomfortable his younger brother looked.

You finally turned your gaze to Aemond, snapped out of the trance you were previously in.

“Aemond, I-I don’t understand what’s happening.”

His usual stoic demeanor cracked as the urge to taste you swallowed him whole.

He took the seat on the other side of Aegon and grasped your injured appendage.

“Shh. It’s alright. Allow me”, he began to lick up the droplets sliding down your finger, groaning as he finally got to taste you.

He needed more. They both did.

Watching his brother, a wicked thought popped into his brain.

“Would you like to know how we taste, mandia aesi?” (dear sister) Aegon ran his fingers through your tangled locks.

Mindlessly, you nodded as you watched your brother lapping at your finger. Not even registering what is what your brother was asking of you.

Aemond’s eyes shot up to his brother, wordlessly disapproving of what he had in mind.

Ignoring him, he pricked his finger and slowly brought it up to your lips.

“Jikagon, sylutegon issa mandia,” (go ahead, taste me sister).

Before your conscience could stop you, you savored the queer, coppery taste of your brothers blood.

You knew not of the sorcery that possessed you. All you knew was you wanted more.

Something inside of you snapped.

You wrapped your other hand around his arm, effectively locking him in place as you sucked harder, drawing more blood from his wound.

The pair of them watched, transfixed as their sister indulged.

A light yank of your hair pulled you from him, your other brother offering a taste from him which you happily obliged.

After a few minutes went by, you released his hand and licked your lips.

“More please,” your brother’s eyes darkened, something primal finally overtook any ounce of self-restraint remaining at your glossy eyes and blood dribbling down your chin.

“Now, don’t be greedy, dear sister. Let us have another turn.”

Leaning back in your chair, your brothers crowded each side of you and littered your neck with small kisses.

Nosing along your vein, your brother Aemond murmured, “Ao sytilībagon naejot īlva, mandia.” (you belong to us now, sister) before piercing into your soft flesh.

You groaned loudly as you felt a slight sting on either side of your neck, soon followed by an intense pleasuring shooting through every nerve in your body.

Gripping the arms of the chairs, your eyes rolled to back of your head as you brother continued to drink from you, their lust for you sending them into a frenzy.

Your body buzzed from the intensity, teetering on the precipice of an unknown pleasure you felt soon claim you as you lost control of your senses, spiralling into a black abyss.

Soon, your brothers broke away from you, maroon staining the skin around their mouths as they gazed upon your lifeless body.

“Fuck,” Aegon murmured as he wiped off and tasted the remains of you on his lips.

Aemond sighed. He stirred in his breaches as he reveled in the euphoria of the moment.

“She is insatiable,” Aemond grabbed a napkin and cleaned himself.

“Hmm, I already wish to taste her again,” Aegon smiled devilishly at his brother.

“Mother will be furious,” Aemond noted, following a rivulet of blood running down the valley of your breasts.

“Tis little matter now.”

The minutes dragged on before the doors of the library swung open, revealing a furious Alicent along with Daemon, Rhaenyra, and Helaena.

Taking in the scene before them, Alicent stormed toward the three of you.

“What have you done!” She shouted, rushing towards you lying limp in the chair, inspecting the puncture wounds on your neck.

Before either could reply, a small whimper left you which directed everyone’s attention.

Slowly lifting your eyelids, once lavender orbs were now tainted with red.

authors note: already starting pt. 2 hehehe, let me know your thoughts!

#enjoy

- alie

[gul4bjamoons]

✩ threads of patience; 

                    jamal musiala ────── 

when a footballer is sidelined due to an injury, the last thing he expects is to find solace in a fashion designer’s studio.

⭑  wordcount : three thousand one hundred seventy-eight.

⭑  notes : just a heads up the main character is of south asian descent !!

˙⋆✮ masterlist.

“Musiala, you need to sit this one out.” The words pierced his ears, yet his mind unable to grasp the meaning.

Jamal pouted, his arms folded tightly across his chest, a storm brewing behind his dark eyes. He leaned against the cold steel of the bench, the texture digging into his back as if mocking his inactivity. The training pitch buzzed with the rhythmic thud of cleats on grass, but Jamal’s gaze stayed fixed on the ground, unwilling to meet anyone’s eyes. His coach, Vincent Kompany, stood before him, unshaken by the young midfielder’s silent rebellion.

“We’ve talked about this Jamal…” Kompany’s voice was steady, a calm tide against Jamal’s turbulent sea. “Your ankle’s not ready, and if you keep trying to push yourself, you will make things worse.”

“I’m not.” Jamal shot back, his voice edged with defiance, though it trembled ever so slightly. “I just want to be part of the team.”

“You are part of the team,” Kompany replied, his tone softening but losing none of its firmness. “But right now, the best thing you can do is recover. We can’t afford to lose you long-term.”

Jamal muttered under his breath, his voice a low growl, barely audible but carrying the weight of his frustration. The coach’s eyes narrowed, the silence stretching between them like a taut wire.

“And for that to happen,” Kompany continued, his gaze sharpening, “you need to stay off the pitch during practice. You’re distracting the others.”

Jamal’s jaw tightened, his scowl deepening. He clenched his fists at his sides, feeling the strain of every muscle as if the tension could somehow mask the sting of his manager’s words. 

He didn’t argue, though. 

Deep down, he knew the coach was right. His irritation had spilled over onto his teammates all morning, sniping and snapping at every mistake. Even Manuel Neuer had joked about how Jamal seemed more intense on the sidelines than on the pitch. The laughs that followed the comment had only fueled the young boy’s anger.

Being benched wasn’t just a frustration—it was a simmering rage bubbling just beneath the surface. The UCL semi-finals loomed, and the Bundesliga points were precious, each one like a lifeline. Every second on the sidelines felt like an eternity, a punishment that gnawed at his resolve, whispering that he was letting everyone down.

“Why don’t you take the day to clear your head?” Kompany’s voice cut through Jamal’s thoughts. The head coach approached with a measured pace, a faint smile curling his lips. “Actually, scratch that—I have a job for you.”

Jamal’s eyes flicked up, suspicion shading his expression. “A job?”

“Yes.” Kompany’s smirk widened, as if savoring the surprise he was about to unveil. “You’re going to help review the kit designs for next season. The design team needs player feedback, and you’re not doing much else right now.”

Jamal blinked, his face a canvas of disbelief. “You’re kidding.”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Jamal opened his mouth, ready to protest, but the glint in his manager’s eye silenced him. The words died on his lips, replaced by a muttered, half-hearted complaint about it being a waste of time. He turned away, limping toward the club offices, each step echoing with the dull thud of reluctance. His mind swirled with frustration, the sting of the coach’s directive gnawing at his pride.

-

The design studio was nothing like Jamal expected.

He had been here once before, years ago, when Bayern was unveiling a retro-inspired kit. Back then, the studio had an austere atmosphere, commanded by an older man whose stoic demeanor matched the cold, minimalist decor. Every surface had gleamed with an almost clinical precision, and Jamal had felt as though even a misplaced breath might disturb the fragile order. Now, as he stepped inside, he braced for a similar encounter, but the scene that unfolded before him was a stark contrast.

Colors danced across the room, a vivid array that immediately drew his eyes. Deep maroons and rich yellows blended seamlessly with earthy greens and serene blues, each hue carefully chosen to evoke a sense of warmth and creativity. The textures added another layer of depth—soft, flowing fabrics with intricate patterns that hinted at something more, their delicate weaves resembling motifs from distant, storied traditions.

Meanwhile your focus was intense as you studied sketches and swatches spread before you. The air around you was infused with an energy that felt both welcoming and vibrant. A faint scent of jasmine lingered across the room.

You were younger than Jamal had expected, and your presence exuded a natural warmth that softened the sharp edges of the room. The soft lighting caressed your rich, radiant brown skin, creating a subtle glow that harmonized with the gleaming gold jhumkas—traditional earrings—framing your face, their gentle swing punctuating each of your movements.

“Jamal Musiala, right?” you greeted him with a smile that was as genuine as it was disarming. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m the lead designer for Bayern’s kits this season.”

The boy offered a curt nod, his expression guarded. “Nice to meet you.”

You could sense the tension simmering beneath his cool exterior, but it didn’t deter you. You’d navigated the emotional landscapes of many high-profile clients before—athletes, actors, politicians—and you understood the art of balancing egos with empathy.

“I’ve laid out the initial concepts for next season’s kits,” you said, motioning toward the table. Your voice was steady, a quiet assurance in your tone as you gestured toward the designs. “Home, away, and third. We’ll go through each, and I’d love your input on the colors, patterns, and overall feel.” As you extended your hand, the gold bangles on your wrist caught the light, their soft jingle adding a touch of elegance to the moment.

Jamal nodded stiffly, the weight of his discontent evident in his posture.

You picked up the first sketch—a sleek red jersey with various shades subtly layered to create depth without overwhelming the classic color. “For the home kit, we wanted something timeless yet modern. It’s bold but not overpowering.”

Jamal barely spared it a glance. “Looks fine.”

You raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge dancing in your eyes. “‘Fine’ is not exactly helpful feedback.”

He sighed, running a hand through his tousled hair. “I don’t know. It looks… red.”

You refused to let his mood dampen your enthusiasm. “It’s supposed to be red. It’s Bayern’s home color.”

“I know that,” he retorted, his tone defensive.

“Then what do you think about the gradient? The collar style? The texture of the cloth?”

He shrugged, a reluctant surrender. “It’s good.”

Taking a deep breath, you reminded yourself to stay patient. You sensed that his irritation wasn’t truly with the designs but stemmed from elsewhere—a storm cloud hanging over his day.

“Okay,” you said, your voice calm and steady as you set the sketch aside. “Let’s move on to the away kit.”

You presented the next design—a sleek black jersey accented with light green and dusty orange, a tribute to the statue of Bavaria. You handed him a fabric swatch, your fingers brushing lightly against the sample.

“This material is lightweight and moisture-wicking,” you explained, your voice taking on a soothing cadence. “It’s designed for optimal performance in hot weather.”

He took the swatch with the air of someone carrying a burden, barely glancing at it before setting it down. “Yeah, it’s alright.”

“Alright?” you repeated, your voice laced with a measured calm that barely concealed your waning patience. 

Your eyes locked on Jamal’s, searching for a flicker of engagement beyond the wall of frustration he had built. “Jamal, I need actual feedback. These kits represent the team. They’re not just about how they look; they’re about how they feel on the pitch, how they move with you, how they make you feel when you’re wearing them, leading the charge.”

For a brief moment, his hardened expression softened. His gaze met yours, and you could see the flicker of understanding—an acknowledgment of the care and passion you poured into every stitch, every thread of the kits. But it was fleeting. The weight of his frustration shadowed his features. He shook his head, the tension returning to his posture.

“Look, I get that this is important,” he said, his voice tinged with resignation. “But all I want is to get back to the pitch as soon as possible.”

You sighed deeply, the weight of his words pressing against your resolve as you gently set the fabric swatch down on the table. “I understand,” you said, your tone softening but holding firm. “But right now, this is part of your role. You’re still part of the team, even if you’re not playing. And this does matter—to the club, to the fans, to your teammates. What you wear represents who you are and what you stand for.”

He stared at you, his jaw tight, eyes reflecting the internal battle waging within him. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken frustrations. Finally, he sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate the tension in his shoulders. He rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture of weariness, perhaps even apology.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m just… not in the best headspace.”

You softened, offering him a small smile, the kind that spoke of patience tempered with understanding. “Let’s go over the third kit,” you said, lifting a sleek sketch from the table. It was a collared beige jersey with dashes of red uniformed across the shirt, like an artist’s deliberate brushstrokes. The design was a departure from the traditional, and though it exuded a quiet elegance, you couldn’t shake the nagging worry that the players might resist something so unconventional.

“This one’s inspired by the club’s heritage, but with a modern twist,” you explained, holding the fabric swatch closer for Jamal to feel. “The beige is subtle, but the red is fierce.”

Jamal’s brow furrowed, not in frustration this time, but in concentration. He ran his fingers over the fabric, his touch lingering as though weighing its texture against his experiences on the pitch.

“I see what you mean,” he said, his tone softer, more reflective. “It’s different, but... it might grow on people.” He paused, glancing at you. “Maybe the collar could be a bit more structured?”

You nodded, appreciating the thoughtful critique. He was more engaged now, though you could tell he wasn’t entirely present—his mind likely still half on the field, half on his current situation. You sighed inwardly but maintained your composed demeanor. "Thank you, Jamal. I’ll take that into consideration."

This wasn’t the best day for either of you, but you held onto the hope that his next visit—or even his feedback later—would be more fruitful. Perhaps this was just an off day, a temporary fog clouding his usually sharp instincts.

As you worked, you couldn’t help but notice the little things about him—the way his brow knitted when he delved into thought, the almost imperceptible way his fingers tested the fabric’s resilience, as if searching for its strength. Despite his earlier reluctance, there was a latent attention to detail in Jamal, an unspoken connection to the subtleties of design, even if he didn’t yet see it himself.

-

Jamal entered the design studio again, but this time, there was no scowl on his face, no frustrated dragging of feet. Instead, a calm acceptance settled into his posture, though a trace of disappointment remained in his eyes—a reminder of the three-week recovery dictated by the gaffer.

He knew better now, knew that defiance wouldn’t hasten his return. The idleness still gnawed at him, but he was determined to channel his energy differently this time.

When he stepped into the studio, he found you at the same spot as last time, perched gracefully on a stool by one of the long drafting tables. Your head was bent over your tablet, fingers gliding over the screen with practiced ease. The sunlight streaming through the window caught your hair, thick the luscious intricate braid that fell over your shoulder, a few wisps escaping to frame your face.

You looked up briefly, your smile polite but genuine. “Jamal. Back again?”

“Yeah,” he replied, scratching the back of his neck. “Coach’s orders.”

Your smile tightened slightly, and you went back to your sketching, the awkwardness between you two still lingering from your first meeting. Jamal couldn’t blame you. He hadn’t exactly been easy to work with.

He wandered over to the table where you’d laid out an array of patches and test prints. They were vibrant and varied—bold reds, deep blues, intricate geometric patterns, and minimalist monochromes. For a moment, he forgot his frustration and found himself running his fingers over the fabrics, appreciating their textures.

You glanced up, watching him out of the corner of your eye. He seemed… calmer this time. Less tense. Maybe even a little curious.

“What are you working on?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You blinked, surprised by the question. “Oh, just some drafts.” you said vaguely.

He nodded, his gaze wandering to the device in your hand. “Can I see?”

You hesitated for a moment before turning the screen toward him. Instead of a jersey design, the sketch on the screen was of a stunning red lehenga—a traditional South Asian wedding outfit. The skirt was adorned with intricate gold embroidery, and the blouse featured delicate, hand-drawn floral motifs. It was breathtakingly detailed, a testament to your passion and skill.

Jamal tilted his head, intrigued by the vibrant sketch before him. “That’s not for Bayern, is it?”

You giggled softly, the sound light and melodic. “No, definitely not. It’s for my cousin’s wedding coming up. She asked me to design something special for her. Weddings are a huge deal in my culture. The outfits, the colors, the jewelry… everything has to be perfect. And red is the traditional color for brides.”

Jamal leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued by the richness of your explanation. “How long does it take to make something like this?”

“It depends,” you said, your enthusiasm evident as you spoke. “A custom piece like this can take weeks, even months, especially with all the fitting sessions. Every stitch has to be just right.”

He watched you closely, captivated by the way your eyes sparkled with passion. You weren’t just describing a task; you were sharing a part of yourself, bringing the design to life with each word. The vibrant reds and intricate gold details in the sketch seemed to glow under the soft lighting, mirroring the energy in your voice.

“And the details,” you continued, your fingers hovering over the screen to highlight different elements. “See this gold embroidery at the bottom? I’ve been experimenting with different floral patterns. And the red fabric is silk, which has this beautiful sheen under the light. It’s not just about how it looks—it’s about how it feels when you wear it.”

Jamal nodded slowly, though his attention was no longer entirely on the sketch. He was mesmerized by you—the way your brows furrowed slightly in concentration, the gentle curve of your lips forming a small smile as you spoke with such fervor. There was something endearing about your devotion, a magnetic pull he couldn’t resist.

“You’re really into this,” he said softly, his voice carrying a newfound respect.

You looked up, slightly startled by the sincerity in his tone. “Well… yeah. It’s what I love to do.”

A faint smile played on his lips, the tension between you two easing like the first warmth after a long winter. The weight of the morning’s frustrations seemed to lift, replaced by a quiet understanding.

And as the morning progressed, you shifted your focus back to the Bayern kit designs, presenting Jamal with updated concepts. This time, he was more engaged, offering thoughtful input as you refined the details together. His earlier hesitation had given way to a genuine interest.

At one point, you reached for a tape measure to take his measurements for a prototype jersey. “I’ll need you to try this on,” you said, holding up a tester design.

Jamal complied, slipping the jersey over his training top. You stepped closer, your hands moving with practiced precision as you adjusted the fit around his shoulders and arms. “Hold still,” you murmured, the gentle command softened by the proximity between you.

He froze, his breath catching slightly as your fingers brushed against his arm, smoothing out the fabric. He could feel the focus radiating from you, the way your kajal had framed your eyes as they darted over each adjustment with meticulous care.

“Does it feel too tight around the chest?” you asked, glancing up at him.

“No, it’s fine,” he replied quickly, though his voice was quieter than he intended, tinged with a subtle vulnerability.

Your eyes met, and for a brief moment, the space between you seemed to shrink, the air charged with an unspoken connection. 

The silence stretched, delicate and electric.

You cleared your throat, stepping back slightly to regain composure. “Okay, let me just check the length.”

Jamal nodded, his ears turning red as he looked away.

As the session went on, the awkwardness from earlier seemed to dissolve entirely. You found yourselves chatting about everything from football to fashion, discovering that you had more in common than you expected.

“Do you ever get nervous before a big game?” you asked as you adjusted the hem of the jersey he was wearing.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “But it’s more like… excitement, you know? Once you’re on the pitch, it all kind of fades away.”

You nodded, understanding the feeling. “That’s how I feel before a big presentation. The nerves are there, but once I start talking, I forget about everything else.”

He smiled, his admiration for you growing with every passing minute.

As you finished up the adjustments, you stepped back to view your work. “Looks good,” you said, nodding in approval.

Jamal glanced down at the jersey, then back at you. “You’re really good at this,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks,” you said, fidgeting with your necklace.

Before he could hesitate, the words rolled out of his tongue. “So… uh… do you want to maybe, I don’t know… grab coffee sometime?”

You blinked, surprised by the question.

“I mean, you don’t have to,” he added quickly, scratching the back of his neck. “I just thought—”

“I’d like that.” you said as your chocolate colored eyes looked up at him.

His face lit up, a boyish grin spreading across his features. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” you said, feeling your own smile widen.

Later, as you packed up your materials for the day, a soft smile played on your lips. You couldn’t help but replay the moments shared, the quiet exchanges and the unspoken understanding that seemed to bloom between you and Jamal. The awkwardness had melted away, replaced by a comforting ease that felt special. Your thoughts wandered, anticipation bubbling up as you glanced at the time, looking forward to the future. It wasn’t just the designs that had you excited anymore.

© gul4bjamoons 

[hypertechnica]

i’m not saying that what Odo did in s6 while the dominion occupied the station WASNT fucked up beyond imagination, but am i the only one who thinks it completely makes sense why it happened (and why Kira forgave him?)

to be clear, i absolutely think the show forgave him too fast - it should have been a full arc on screen, not in a single off screen discussion in a closet. that was a massive writing failure. but! i don’t think that the arc is usalvageable at all.

(CW for discussions of grooming)

from what i knew of the dominion collaborator arc before i watched it, i assumed Odo had taken an active role in betraying the federation basically because he was lonely and horny and prioritized his own feelings over his values. i didn’t see that at all.

Odo’s betrayal lied within his inaction - his refusal to help kira and the resistance when she needed him most, ruining their plans and in the end costing thousands of lives. Kira (and everyone else) had every right to never speak to him again - so why did she?

Odo, to me, seemed completely dissociated the entire time his betrayal took place. where just before he had been talking of wanting to rip out his strong feelings for Kira, he then takes on an eerie apathy towards everything, stating things “used to” matter and that he felt nothing. he doesn’t even know how much time is passing. the crux of this, of course, is the link - Odo stresses that it’s an experience that can’t be compared to anything solids can do. Kira just “doesn’t understand.” that she can’t understand. what is so life changing about linking that makes him do a full 180 on everything he’s ever stood for? it’s basically just goo sex, right? right?

the Voice of the Link (the female changeling but i refuse to call her that because it’s a stupid fucking name) is manipulating him with his desire to link and to experience his culture. but linking is more than a metaphor for sex, it’s quite literally the emotional fusion between beings. the show compares it to sex, yes, but the emotional intimacy of the act transcends humanoid notions of sexuality in a way Odo had never experienced at this level before. the Voice already had power over him. she’d been building his trust and teasing him with hints at their culture for seasons at this point, it wasn’t a huge step to fully let her enter his mind. the Voice wanted Odo to join the Great Link - but she also wanted that minefield to be destroyed. Odo says she didn’t find out about their plans, but was he correct? what are the Voice’s true motives? she says she doesn’t care about the details of the war, that she just wants to be with Odo for companionship - i don’t buy it. she has to know about the resistance. she’s too smart to not have figured it out. it’s two birds with one stone - fully sway Odo to the side of the dominion, and ensure that the minefield is destroyed.

they’d linked before, but never in totality or for that length. she knew he’d be vulnerable to it. that he would lose himself to the overwhelming emotional intensity and melding of their minds. Odo was an extremely young changeling with little to no experience linking, and was thrust into an out of body extremely emotional and sexual experience literally transcending the boundaries of self with a thousand+ year old founder who knows exactly what buttons to press. of course he would lose his sense of self and detach from reality! she’s literally both attacking and assuaging every vulnerability Odo has in an extremely precise manner!

Odo wanted nothing more than to be able to link with another changeling but the power imbalance was too great. he was putty in her hands. it was really uncomfortable to watch and i dare say it was an act of predation rather than “Odo was horny and folded immediately” or “Odo was lonely and prioritized that over his friends.” yes, he was both of those things, but in the context of his relationship with the Voice… good lord. i wouldn’t even be surprised if Odo genuinely didn’t know the extent of the damage he caused until after things were over - he was completely and utterly gone.

it makes no sense for Odo to suddenly abandon his entire moral and value system just because The Link Is Cool and Awesome and i’m Learning About my Culture and then change his mind once more once shit starts hitting the fan. he’s not that gullible. he can’t rip out his feelings! but he can be coaxed into a state of derealized semi consciousness by continuous linking and isolation from others.

by linking with the Voice he lost track of where he ended and she began. his ego had been destroyed. he was nothing, and nothing mattered but the link. the totality of it. his loneliness was amplified by a thousand degrees every time they separated, she knew how to make him feel just right, she knew how to make him lose his independence completely.

but the spark within him, his love that he’d tried to get rid of, the kind that didn’t require becoming nothing but a drop in an ocean, saved him from her. Kira helped him remember himself and what he believed in right before it was too late.

Odo is far from a defendable character in many cases. he’s a very very flawed person. but i would argue this isn’t his worst moment. his extremely authoritarian tendencies and the amoral decisions he’s made while in complete sound mind are honestly more culpable to me than what happened to him in s6. the scale of the disastrous consequences resulting from his betrayal make it way worse obviously, but he was literally getting groomed and NOT in his right mind. he seemed almost drugged to me at points.

so he SHOULD have gotten another arc afterwards explaining all of that in detail instead of “well, he talked it out offscreen with Kira. he’s forgiven now!” BRO HE INDIRECTLY KILLED SO MANY PEOPLE dissociated or not he SHOULD face consequences for that!! make him grapple with it!! make him realize the extent of what happened not only the consequences but the the way he was taken advantage of! its literally existentially terrifying in every way! and of COURSE in that context Kira would forgive him. trust would have to be rebuilt, of course, but it’s one thing to actively put the entire alpha quadrant at risk for some strange, it’s another thing to have your vulnerability taken advantage of and be put into a dissociative state.

tldr: the Voice is a great villain and Odo has never done anything wrong ever in his life

[formylovetodaryldixon]

"Like there was no tomorrow." Daryl Dixon—Chapter 5.

Chapter Summary: Just when you thought you'd gotten rid of the Claimers, they arrive to try to destroy Carl and April's lives. There, Aeris gives you the second you and Rick need to protect the others, but the truth of the burns on your wrists comes to light as you confront one of the perpetrators. And upon the group's arrival at Terminus, you stay behind as the truth behind that "sanctuary" comes to light as well.

PAIRING: Daryl Dixon x reader

ERA: From prison onwards.

A/N: Hi! First of all, in an episode of TWD it is shown that the claimers want to SA Carl, so I want to warn you that this chapter talks about that. (Y/N) also talks about that with Daryl, telling him what happened to her best friend. It's not graphic because I don't like to talk about it too much, but I'm so sorry if anyone here went through that. I don't know what to say, but I'm so sorry. From here, I send you all my love!

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

You thought, mistakenly, that you had left the claimers behind two days ago.

But now, the not so lonely night grows darker, more terrifying as you feel the edge of the knife on your throat, with one of them pressing it against you as he keeps pushing you towards the ground with his body, feeling him in places you don’t want to feel him. In a second, everything happens in a second and with the violence of a hurricane: Rick is on the ground in front of Joe, one of them pointing at Michonne while others continue to beat Daryl as he tries to fight back, with the sound of kicks and punches filling the emptiness of the world.

But the morbidity of those two men pushing Carl and April to the ground makes bile rise in your stomach, to the corner of your throat as you try to utter a word, and it is like taking a breath after being submerged in water for too long—nothing makes sense.

The rules had changed in that new world that arose with the awakening of the dead, but some things remained the same: selfishness, the desire to destroy, the ability of some to break you into pieces but leave you alive so that you feel it in your skin, in your mind and in your heart.

But you are not going to let that happen, not again.

And the pressure that the man exerts on you triggers memories, that trauma of that night, but it also awakens that force that sometimes, under the right situation, is more overwhelming than fear.

"Any last word before we start having fun, doll?" He smiles, victoriously as his hand starts touching you.

And in that world that tries to bring you down at every moment, you find a way to spit your words at him.

“Yeah, I'm not gonna let anyone else go through this shit, fucker!”

You find the force to press your lips together, leaving a small space to let out a sharp, loud whistle, the signal that Aeris takes to push her wings back and dive from the tree where she was hiding, landing with the force of a bullet against the man above you, embedding her hooked beak in his eye, so hard that a few drops of blood fall on your face.

The man screams and pulls himself off of you, hands on what's left of his eye. And like a fast-motion situation, everyone (who would become your group too as well) starts to gain strength. Joe, stunned, loses a second in his surprise, eyes wide in shock as Rick sinks his teeth into his neck, pulling on a piece of skin tied to Joe's body.

And the act is shocking, freezing the still-living bodies of Joe's group, but it is the second that Michonne uses to take the gun from the one threatening her, shooting him in the face, shooting the man behind Daryl, giving him the opportunity to take down another with a punch, his boot against the man's head until there is nothing left.

But while Rick kills the one holding Carl, you approach the man who was holding April down, (the little girl who runs towards Daryl’s arms) hands in the air in surrender. Your body, small in comparison to his, and your anger looms over him like the shadows of the night—and it is like as if everything loses meaning and sound, as if that anger had made you deaf, but that pang in your chest still gnaws painfully inside you, like a loud scream that only you can hear. Sam’s scream, begging them to stop.

You squeeze the knife in your hand at the memory, so hard that the pain reminds you that you are alive.

"You don't remember me, do you, Gary?"

The man's face, who is kneeling on the ground now, is contorted in shock the moment he realized who you are, a frown over his terrified wide open eyes. And though you're not aware of how the others are standing in their places with their gazes on you, the memories you once pushed to the back of your back flash across your eyes with a destructive force—and it’s painful and sickening.

“You…” He exhales the air his body can no longer hold.

“Yeah, me. You don’t look as big as you felt that night while you were raping my friend.” The words are disgusting in your mouth, and you stop yourself from spitting out the bile on your tongue. “I killed three of your friends that night while you all ran away, but I told them that sooner or later I would kill you too, so I'm waiting for the missing one. By the way…” You chuckle, humorless, with an emptiness in your chest that could fill the night. “I did find your brother a little bit later in a camp... and he died crying like a pussy.”

Hearing your words makes his blood rush to his face, his expression changing to one of pure hatred, eyes fixed on you, holding the last expression in his life until the moment you plunge the knife sideways, embedding it in his neck, so deep that all the edge disappears into his skin.

But as his body falls to the side, eyes frozen in emptiness, you feel absent, like an empty shell, like a body without a soul, numb, feeling absolutely nothing, just like Sam felt after that night. Shit, you think in shock as the possible truth hits you hard, was that what happened to April's mom too?

The rest of the night passes in an almost gloomy silence, as if a thick fog has settled around the living, as if the knife has been embedded in all of you and not in them. Michonne's lap welcomes Carl's head inside that old car in the middle of the road after the sun rises, stroking his hair as soft as a mother's memory. Outside, Daryl uses his pocket handkerchief to wet it and hand it to Rick, who has an absent-minded look.

“We should save that water to drink.” Rick tries to be logical, even in the midst of his foggy confusion.

“Ya can’t see yerself, but he can.” Daryl hands it over, referring to Carl and his expression when his dad stabbed that man several times. Dary sits on the floor next to him, their backs against the car door, unable to swallow the lump in their throats at the result of a seemingly peaceful night that ended in death. “We didn’t know who they were. (Y/N) and I… we thought we'd be okay when we got separated from ‘em, I thought April would be safe. Joe told me that someone had attacked one of his group, but I didn't know that someone was ya.”

Rick is calm, absent, but calm.

"How did you three end up with them?"

Daryl shrugs.

"(Y/N) and I spent several days in the woods after the prison, tryin’ to get to the house where she was stayin’ with an elderly couple. Along the way we found April and Ruby, her mom, but she shot herself, but not ‘fore tryin’ to kill her daughter. That old couple was dead too when we got there, and after a few days we decided that we should keep lookin’ for our group until we came across ‘em. We knew they were bad, but they had a code. It was simple, or so it looked like."

Rick nods, a little more present in the now.

“You two were alone while taking care of a little girl, and I get that you had to protect your daughter.”

There's a small laugh from him, a sound like the crackling of a campfire, warm and promising that makes Daryl scoff softly.

"April ain't really ma kid, but I want ma monkey to be safe. She deserves it." Like a dagger stuck in his chest that doesn't let him breathe, Daryl tries to calm his racing heart. “Two days ago they said they spotted the man who killed their friend. Ain’t sound right for us so we left, and yesterday when we met ya all, I thought we could forget ‘bout ‘em.” Daryl takes a moment, has to, to try and swallow the guilt that occupies his body, that bubbles up inside as if it has replaced his blood. “I didn’t know what they could do. But shit, they almost destroyed Carl and April's lives.”

Remorse causes Daryl’s gaze to fall to the ground, but Rick keeps his on him.

“It’s not on you, Daryl. Hey…” His voice is soft but firm, a calling that makes Daryl able to look him in the eyes for a few seconds. “It’s not on you. You being back with us, now, that’s everything…" Rick has to take a breath, but his next words are so meaningful that they are easy to say. "You’re my brother. Okay?”

Rick's gaze is fixed on Daryl—and it is transparent, full of honestly, so they take a moment to process those words, to digest them and give them a deep meaning that from that moment on, will be tattooed on the other's minds.

“What ya did last night, what (Y/N) did… everyone would have done that.”

Rick nods slowly, because his response to the impending danger still weighs on him, although deep down, he feels like a monster. It's like a crossroads, the constant reminder of having lived his life by moral rules, versus having acted like a savage, breaking those basic rules.

“Is (Y/N) okay?”

Daryl shakes his head.

“Dun know. I didn’t know her friend was assaulted.”

He falls silent, but the fear of finding out if you were too makes the world so quiet it threatens to drive him mad.

"Make sure she's okay."

"I can't." Daryl swallows, but his throat is so dry that he grimaces. "I feel like s’ma fault. If I hadn't left her alone, we could have left town the night it all began and nothin’ would have happened to ‘em. I know she didn't want to leave me, but I pushed her away."

Rick frowns, confused.

"Can I ask why? I mean, you clearly love her, so I don't understand why you did that."

Daryl rubs his face with his hands before resting his head against the car, but his mind has a twisted sense of humor, and it shows him all the good times he had with you, cruelly mixing in with the night he told you he was ending the relationship.

“I always thought I didn't deserve her, that she could be with someone better, but I hid those insecurities ‘cause I wanted to be with her too. But one night, her father found out what kind of person she was datin’, and with a little diggin’, he knew ma idiot brother was a drug dealer. Her father was a drunken bastard but he was a cop too, so he threatened to put Merle in jail if I didn't stay away from his daughter. Shit, I loved her, man…" A sad, soft smile finds its way to Daryl's face, and in the midst of that sadness, Rick finds a way to smile too. "Like I never knew I could love someone, and fuck, I will always do, but Merle was ma only family, so I let her go.”

Rick nods, taking in his words, until he decides there is only one answer.

"Go with her, Daryl. The past is the past but she's here with you now. That’s all that matters."

Daryl wants to argue, to hide behind his fears like April hid behind his body, but he knows he can't, that the path behind him has burned down, forcing him to take only steps forward. So Daryl stands up and walks over to you down the road, April between your legs as she strokes Aeris who rests in her small hand. His heart is painfully squeezed as he sits down next to you, and if the world were a quiet place, everyone would be able to hear his heartbeat racing and pounding in his chest.

Your sleeves are still rolled up to your elbows, because now that the truth has come to light, there is no point in hiding the burns, and you can finally feel the warmth on your skin, the wind that travels freely.

“It was about two months later after the end of the world began.” Your voice is soft, full with an overflowing sadness, but there’s also a hint of calm amidst the stormy memory. “Sam and I kept going on until we came across a group. A few men and two women, and I foolishly wanted to believe that people didn’t think about hurting other people anymore… until they did. The rope around my wrists was cutting off my circulation, but it was worse the sight of those men taking turns…”

You glance at April, but she’s more interested in admiring Aeris, as if she’s capable of blocking out any kind of pain. Daryl feels like he's going to throw up from the anger as he thinks of the pain Sam and the other women went through, from the pain you went through seeing them, seeing your best friend like that.

"Did they touch ya too?"

But when you shake your head, he can feel just a little peace.

“One of them told me they were saving me for last because they liked how feisty I was. It took me a while to burn the rope into the fire next to me, and the pain was so excruciating that afterward my body didn’t recognize it as pain anymore. I didn’t feel a thing. When I stood up, I was lost, and I grabbed the first thing I found and stuck it into the neck of one of them. It’s almost funny to think of their scared faces, like they’d seen the chupacabras in person…” Your gaze meets Daryl’s for the first time, and you both find a second to give the other a promise of a smile. “It was easy to kill them with their pants down while three of them ran away like cowards, scared of a little person who at that moment, had nothing left to lose: maybe they saw that in me. After that, I found Gary's brother in another group some time later, and he knew who I was when I strangled him while he was sleeping. I guess this other one found the claimers after we left them. Now, I just have to find the last one.”

Your gaze is lost in a fixed point in the woods, but even so, Daryl can feel the weight of hatred in your eyes, the irreparable way in which they damaged you, although they didn't destroy you all the way, but they did something worse: they hurt the only person who mattered to you more than your own life.

"Ya will be okay, peach." Daryl is scared of losing you, like never before in his life. No, more scared than living without you after the breakup. But when your gaze meets his, he can see a small spark of hope. “We will find a way. Okay?”

You nod, softly, but a fear stirs in you, dangerously.

"I guess you have a different image of me now."

But Daryl shakes his head, his eyes on yours for you to see he means it.

“No. Ya did what ya had to do to save yerself and Sam, to save this monkey.” That word crosses April's ears and instantly, she snaps out of the dream, her frown deepening as she looks at Daryl, who returns the same expression. “What? Ya are.”

April shakes her head, too.

“No. I’m not!”

Daryl snorts, and that's the fire that ignites a funny argument between them, and you look at them in silence, wishing that they are that path to a better life.

But a moment later, when everyone feels calm again after the storm, you all take your things inside the car before heading back down the road, holding out hope that Terminus will indeed promise a safe haven. Michonne is ahead with Carl, Daryl and April behind them, but being last in line, as if the confusion of the outcome of events is still pulling you two down, you and Rick share a look before he speaks first.

“You okay?” He says, softly.

You knew him little but you know he's good, and you can see his monumental attempt not to drown in his own actions to save his son.

“Yeah. You?”

“I’m okay.” He smiles a little bit, sharing with you a look of hope before looking at Aeris now on your shoulder. “I wanted to thank you for what you did. Your bird was the one that gave us that second in which we could save ourselves.”

You smile, softly too.

"Thanks. This bird is like my daughter; you know? I may have given her a chance when she was a baby, but it's she who saved my life."

Rick nods.

"When we find the rest of our group, you can stay with us. I know you will be a good addition to the family."

You think about his words for a few seconds, nodding at him silently when you two reach the others, who are looking at a wood sign on the ground, with the name Terminus written there.

“We’re gettin’ close.” Daryl says, making Rick nod.

“Yeah. Now we head through the woods.”

Everyone turns off the main path, heading deeper into the woods until finally, after an hour or so, you all find the place surrounded by a fence. It's like a school or a factory, old, big and forgotten, with its name written on the windows for the people on the outside to see. Rick advises that you all split up into small groups towards the back, to get a better look at what could be a new home, so you do, and Daryl, April and you take the path to the left.

But why do you suddenly feel a pain in your chest? The weight of your backpack is heavier, and the strange feeling threatens to drown you, but it's like something you've already experienced, like when your body warned you that Mark and Ellie weren't okay, like when you woke up sweating before that call at the hospital to say your mom was gone, like that day your older brother got lost and never found his way back home. However, when you all reach the back fence, a new big panic takes over you as you feel the emptiness in your jeans pocket.

"I need to get back. I think I left Mark's watch on the side of the road."

Daryl looks at you, incredulous, his frown deepening.

"Ya ain’t goin’ anywhere. Are ya crazy, woman?"

You chuckle at his words.

"I didn't ask for your permission, Dixon." Your gaze stays on him, while the others staying silent, but sensing the tension. "But Mark was more of a father in one month than my own father was my entire life. So I'm going back... can you take care of April or not?"

"(Y/N)..." Rick takes a step between you, cutting off the frustration you're both starting to feel. "If that watch is that important, I can go with you. Okay?"

You shake your head, trying to smile softly at him.

"Thanks, Rick, but you have to take care of your son. I know it sounds stupid, and I know it is, but that watch was important to Mark because it was the first gift from his wife when they got married. And I've been taking care of myself just fine this whole time, so you don’t need to worry about me." You look back at Daryl, softly this time while ignoring the plea in his eyes. “Can you, or can you not?”

For Daryl, it's like letting you go again, unprotected, exposing him to the terror of you leaving him forever, but Daryl knows what not feeling your dad as a dad left in you, so holding on to the last memory of Mark is what gives you the strength to continue. So he nods, defeated. But April clings to your hand, tighter this time, telling you with her eyes and sweet voice not to leave her, so you crouch down in front of her, your hands that are bigger than hers enveloping them in your warmth.

"I'll come back for you, baby. I'm not going to leave you alone."

You look confident, but April has to make sure of that.

"You promise?"

"I promise, love." When you try to get up, her unsure and timid voice keeps you on one knee. "Yes?"

For a moment, April can't look you in the eyes, as if she understands the devastating fear of rejection, because at her young age, she had experienced what it was like to feel rejected by her own mother, left to her own devices, unloved or unwanted by either of her parents.

"When you come back, will you... be my mommy?"

It’s strange, but when her gaze finally meets yours, the world suddenly makes sense again, it has a purpose, because April is stronger than she thinks, brave and resilient, but innocent too despite everything, and you want to keep that intact. And it's also sweet how that feeling of protection towards her blossomed when Ruby told you that April was your baby from that moment on, and even though you haven't given it a title, you feel that way.

"Of course, sweetheart." To let her feel your warmth, you push her hair back, your hand on her cheek. "I've been your mommy since that afternoon, so you're stuck with me forever."

It's overwhelming the feeling that doesn't fit in her small body, pushing her into your arms for a moment before pulling apart from each other, watching them jump over the fence, walking towards different directions.

Rick takes the lead as they cross the back yard to the door of that building, Daryl keeping April in the middle while holding his crossbow, Michonne and Carl at the end. The hallway is deserted the whole way, but a woman's voice from the speakers echoes everywhere, until they walk through another door, into a large warehouse-like space. A few people are working around, unaware of the new presences until Rick approaches the woman at the desk, eyes wide in surprise.

Rick's voice saying hello echoes through the big place as well.

“Well, I bet Albert is on perimeter watch.” One young man says with sarcasm, surrounding one of the desks where he was working with a few people. “You here to rob us?”

“No. We wanted to see you before you saw us.” Rick takes a few steps.

“Makes sense.” The young man chuckles, taking a few steps too, opening his arms as a sign of welcome. “Usually we do this where the tracks meet. But… welcome to terminus. I’m Gareth. Looks like you’ve been on the road for a good bit.”

“We have.” Rick nods, looking at the rest to introduce them. “I’m Rick. That’s Carl, Daryl, April, and Michonne.”

Gareth waves his hand, smiling warmly, stopping a few steps away from Rick, whom he seems to recognize as the leader.

“You’re nervous, I get it. We were all the same way. We came here for sanctuary. That’s what you are here for?”

“Yes.” Rick answers.

“Good. You found it. Hey, Alex…” Gareth looks back for a second when the other man approaches. “This isn’t as pretty as the front. We got nothing to hide, but the welcome wagon is a whole lot nicer. Alex will take you, ask you a few questions. But first, we need to see everyone’s weapons, so, if you could just lay them down in front of you.”

The group falls into a silence, debating internally whether doing this is right as they look into each other's eyes, but in the end, Rick nods, pulling his gun front his waist to put it on the ground like the rest of them when the men come closer to search for any on their bodies.

“Hi, baby…” Gareth smiles at April, who is hiding behind Daryl. And satisfied, he steps back. “Just so you know, we are not those kind of people out there, but we aren’t stupid either. And you shouldn’t be stupid enough to try anything stupid. As long as everyone’s clear on that, we shouldn’t have any problems. Just solutions.”

After that, the group pick up their guns and weapons.

“Follow me.” Alex smiles too, a little bit nervous.

There is another door on the opposite side of the place, and when the young man opens it, the sun shines again like a lie, like a false sign that everything is okay as they all step out, walking between two big buildings.

“So how long’s this place been here?” Daryl asks, his hand holding April's.

“Since almost the start. When all the camps got overrun, people started finding this place. I think it was instinct, you know? Follow a path. Some folks were heading to the coast, others out west or up north, but they all wound up here.”

They stop in the front yard, with a woman smiling at them, cooking something on an old grill.

“Mary, would you fix each of these new folks a place for me?”

Michonne looks at Alex, suspiciously.

“Why do you let people in?”

“The more people become a part of us, we get stronger. That’s what we put up in the signs, invite people in. it’s how we survive."

Alex starts delivering plates full of meat, but in that moment, after Rick finished analyzing the situation, his eyes stop on the chain tied from Alex's waist towards the pocket of his pants. It's an old watch and he instantly knows who it belongs to, so Rick raises his gun to place it at Alex's temple from behind, using his body as a shield as the people around him draw their own weapons, with his group doing the same.

Alex threatens that there are more of them, but Rick doesn’t care.

“Where did you get that watch?”

Alex raises his hands.

“I got it from a dead man. I didn’t think he’d need it.”

“Yeah? What about the riot gear? The poncho?”

“Got the riot gear off a dead cop.” Gareth is behind, calm even when Rick uses Alex’s body to protect himself. “Found the poncho on a clothesline.”

“Gareth, we can wait.” Alex tries to talk, but Gareth shuts him.

“Not. Talk to me.” Rick says.

“What can we say? You don’t truth us anymore. Rick, what do you want?”

“Where are our people?”

Right there, everyone knows it's all a trap, a lie, an ambush. Rick shoots Alex, and Michonne takes April in her arms as she tells Daryl to use his own gun, shooting at a couple of people as Carl does, while Gareth’s people shoot at their feet, leading the group down a path, cornering them all the way until they stop in front of another fence next to a train car.

There are too many for the group to handle, and momentarily defeated, they all do as Gareth orders, entering the wagon. The darkness they are plunged into is stifling when someone closes the door, but the sight of the remaining members of their group is like a breath of fresh air, like a little light filtering through the door.

Scared and confused, April holds Daryl's hand, who, furious, still finds a little hope among those ruins, his gaze fixed on Rick—just like Michonne’s, Carl’s, Glenn’s, Maggie’s, even Sam’s, your best friend and everyone’s else. Rick and the others are scared, but the leader still finds his voice, confident enough to prove them that they are stronger.

“They’re gonna feel pretty stupid when they find out they’re screwing with the wrong people.”

And it's a promise he's willing to keep—with your help and with the help of someone else.

@fluffy-dixon @stunkbiggu @kurogxrix @ffsjustletmesleep @kaz11283 @daryldixmedown @enretrogue

If you don't want to be tag, just let me know please :)

[shivayagojo]

CHINA GP, overrated?

masterlist

PORSCHE'S DEBUT had gone stunningly: a double points finish and a win in Australia. They were proud and comfortable to be leading the constructor's championship coming out of Australia. Better, they were beating Audi by miles. Their beef with the German manufacturer was still soft-launching. Neither side were willing to full out reveal their hatred for the other brand - after all, they were both owned by the same group - but something in Stuggart was telling them the time was approaching.

youtube.com

MONACO IS OVERRATED?? | FLORETTEL EPISODE ONE

Admin: Today, we're playing a game of This or That. I'm going to tell you two options and you're going to pick one side or the other. Ready?

RACE TRACKS or STREET CIRCUITS

Ava: Race tracks. Not a competition.

Seb: Street circuits are fun, but I'll have to go with race tracks.

MONACO or BRAZIL

Seb: Oh.. {intense nerdy Vettel thinking kicks in}. They're both iconic tracks. I'll go with Monaco. It's a tough race and a real testament to your skill.

Ava: ... I'm already going to get a lot of hate for this. I don't like Monaco all that well.

Seb: What?

Ava: Saturdays are amazing, but Sunday is a snooze-fest. Maybe you're different cause you raced in a different era, but no. You can't overtake anyone. It's so boring.

Seb: Still, it's that bad?

Ava: Compared to Sao Paolo, yes.

CHICANE or HAIR PIN

Seb: Chicane

Ava: Definitely Chicane. You can't go wrong with it. So many different overtakes can happen... or crashes if you're Max and Lewis.

Seb: Actually, I thought during Australia, when I was behind them, they were going to take each other out and I can pass on by.

Ava: Brocedes 2.0.

f1

Gabriel Bortoleto has suffered a wrist injury during Free Practice 3 on Sunday. He is ruled out for the Chinese Grand Prix. Felipe Drugovich is set to be his replacement.

see comments below

audif1team: Wishing Bortoleto a speedy recovery. We've got a surprise for you all... 😉

> porschefanatic: Surprise? More like desperation. Heard you're struggling to keep up with development

aston_fan: Wait, isn't he Aston's reserve? What's going on?

> f1insider: Looks like he's leaving AM for a race seat. Big move!

> nando33: Lmao Stroll ain't leaving that soon as long Big Papa is around 🤣

drugovich_br: So proud to see Felipe getting his chance! 🇧🇷 From reserve to race seat, dreams do come true!

am_updates: Wishing Felipe all the best! You'll always be part of the Aston Martin family 💚

> drugovich_fan1: Class act from AM. But why let him go if he's so valuable?

f1

It's Sprint Qualifying time in China. McLaren and Lando have set the pace during practice, and Audi has shocked with a surprising performance. Can Porsche defend their monumental debut?

see comments below

gp2engine: Lando's on fire this season! 🔥 McLaren's back where they belong!

bea: Audi coming in hot! 👀 Didn't see that coming!

> lululemoncalled: Well Porsche cooked them last race so they gotta respond somehow

landonorris_stan: My boy's got this in the bag 🏆 #LN4

> mad_max: All for him to lose Pole by turn 1 🤣

> pawastri: The pole position curse is still going in strong in 2025

f1_memer: Plot twist: Kimi comes out of retirement and takes pole 😂

> nostalgicf1: Don't give me hope 😭

> raikkonen7: "Bwoah, I was having a shit"

teamlh44: Lewis P1, calling it now 🐐

> max33fan: Keep dreaming

totoismyfather: Anyone else think sprint races are overrated?

> boomer: Totally agree. Bring back the old format!

CHINESE GRAND PRIX: The anticipation builds as Formula 1 returns to Shanghai for the second round. Porsche had nothing but a stellar debut in F1. Now, everyone knows they're no longer the dark horse. They're the team to beat. And Audi would love nothing more than to best their German brethren. The team brought an excellent pace into Free Practice and after a terrible performance in Australia, they need jump into the points fast. 

          SQ1 kicked off with a flurry of activity as drivers rushed to set competitive times. Lando Norris immediately stamped his authority on the session, clocking a blistering 1:33.756. The surprise of the session came from the Audi garage, with Nico Hulkenberg and Felipe Drugovich (replacing the injured Borteleto) showing impressive pace, finishing P6 and P8 respectively.

         MEANWHILE, trouble brewed in the Porsche camp. Sebastian Vettel struggled with balance issues, barely scraping through in P15. His teammate Ava Florence fared no better, complaining of understeer in the tight corners.

AVA The car's a handful in these slow sections.

HENRY Copy that, Ava. We're losing too much time in sector two We'll look at adjustments for SQ2.

          SQ2 saw Lando Norris continue his dominance, lowering the benchmark to 1:33.403. The Audis shocked the paddock by maintaining their top-10 positions, with Hulkenberg even briefly holding P2 before being pushed down to P4. Drama unfolded as the checkered flag fell. Sebastian Vettel managed to sneak into SQ3 by the skin of his teeth, claiming P10 by just 0.021 seconds. Unfortunately for Ava Florence...

"We ride on board with last Grand Prix's winner, Ava Florence. Her first sector was not good... and her second sector will be even worse. Martin is what is happening?"

"Here is she comes hard on the brakes again from about 180mph to third gear, for a tight left-hande. Crofty, her car has been struggling in the slow corners. And so perhaps Porsche has found their first problem in F1. We saw how blazing fast she was in Australi's fast corners. Here, not so much."

"Indeed, Martin, and she approaches the biggest braking zone of the track, Turn 14. Spins the car around and fast through 15. She picked up some speed on the straights, but is it enough, slight brake into the final corner and.... NO! SHE DOES NOT! GREEN SECTOR, BUT IT'S NOT GOOD ENOUGH TO MAKE IT SQ3!"

HENRY Unfortunately, Ava, that is P11.

AVA F***! Sorry about that. This was a sh** session. Let's do better in the race.

          SQ3 provided a thrilling climax to the qualifying session. Lando Norris completed his hat-trick of fastest times, securing sprint pole with a stunning 1:33.479. The real story, however, was Audi's remarkable performance. Nico Hulkenberg and Felipe Drugovich locked out the second row, qualifying P2 and P3 respectively, sending shockwaves through the paddock.

f1

A Brit. A German. And a Brazilian. What could go wrong? The grid is all ready and lined up for the Sprint Race.

see comments below

racingtheory: Hulkenberg finally gets his moment! Sprint Race front row 🚀

> shoey: Let that Hulkenberg podium come. I don't care if it's a Sprint Race.

> german_speed: About time Nico showed what he can do!

drugovich_fan: Brazilian magic strikes again! 🇧🇷✨

> mclaren_insider: Felipe to replace Bortoleto?

> lelelemans: Hell no. Bortoleto is very good. Doesn't make sense to replace right away.

chaostheory_f1: Three completely different career paths converging in one sprint race. Netflix, you can't write this stuff! 🍿

2025 China Sprint Race Starting Grid

Lando Norris

Nico Hulkenberg

Felipe Drugovich

Max Verstappen

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Liam Lawson

George Russell

Oscar Piastri

Sebastian Vettel

Ava Florence

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alexander Albon

Esteban Ocon

Yuki Tsunoda

Ollie Bearman

Pierre Gasly

Lance Stroll

Isack Hadjar

Jack Doohan

AVA SLID ON HER HELMET, and got seated in her striped Porsche. She was staring down her Porsche teammate and the McLaren papaya of Oscar Piastri once again. Except this time, it wasn't for the race win. She was in P11, and with only 8 positions get points, she had to make each of the 19 laps count. Lando was on pole, Audi had a 2-3. Everything seemed against the Porsche. It was getting to the point that people began to wonder.... was Porsche's first a fluke? No, Ava did not think so. She won that race. She knew she had the skills to win that race. She did not win it on luck.

"Welcome to the first sprint race of the 2025 Formula 1 season at the Shanghai International Circuit. After an exciting qualifying session yesterday, we're set for a thrilling 100km dash. Let's take a look at our grid for today's sprint. We've got 16 corners to navigate for 19 laps. Your man on pole position, Lando Norris, for the second time in a row. Followed by the Audi pair of Nico Hulkenberg and Felipe Drugovich, who's filling in for his Brazilian counterpart Gabriel Bortoleto today."

"The Ferraris of Leclerc and Hamilton occupy row three, and I have to say, this is not the greatest start to their season. They were expecting big results this year, and they certainly did get that podium in Australia, but how many times can they rely on their drivers to cover up many places." 

"We will have to see, Martin. And now, it's five lights here at Shanghai International Circuit. IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO... Norris gets a decent start. Hulkenberg gets a better one. Hulkenberg is right there with him. They're side by side into Turn 1, and it's the Audi that gets the better exit as Norris goes wide! Hulkenberg leads into Turn 2 and once again, Lando Norris will fail to capitalize on pole position."

"Certainly, I'm sure he would've improved it from last season. And behind Drugovich, Verstappen and Leclerc are immediately at each other's throats. The Red Bull dives to the inside at Turn 6, but Leclerc holds his line. Verstappen is holding up Hamilton, but he's seemingly falling. And Lawson is going to get a good chance to try and overtake him... Oh, a little too ambitious. Hamilton keeps position."

"Hamilton's driving a lot more defensively this season, not the kind the driving we usually see him do. Behind, Ava Florence lost a position to Antonelli. So, yes, that Porsche is indeed struggling on the first sector."

LAP 3:

TURN 13 - RUS passes LAW on the inside, taking P7

LAP 7:

TURN 11: HAD divebombs STR, taking P20

LANDO NORRIS SETS FASTEST LAP : GAP TO P1 + 1.240

LAP 10:

"Verstappen makes another attempt on Leclerc. He gets a great exit from Turn 13, uses DRS down the long back straight. Leclerc defends the inside, BUT VERSTAPPEN GOES AROUND THE OUTSIDE. Incredible racing from both drivers, but Verstappen sees it through. Meanwhile, Oscar Piastri is all over the back of Sebastian Vettel's Porsche. Seb had a great start, but that McLaren is showing great pace for today."

"That's the difference that experience makes. Piastri is sure is fast, but Seb is holding him down beautifully. Oh, but he's right there. They're inches apart coming into Turn 6."

VETTEL Something doesn't feel right with the engine. I'm losing power on the straights.

RUDI Understood, Seb. We're looking into it. Just keep Piastri at bay.

"Looks like Vettel is having some engine problems. That's exactly what McLaren loves to hear. Oscar Piastri is gonna make his lunge soon... He's so close. He's just waiting, biding his time until Seb's engine gives up."

"I don't think he knows Seb is having engine problems yet. He's still racing him hard on these corners..."

"As Sebastian Vettel begins to slow down, Oscar Piastri gets through easily. Vettel losing speed. Antonelli moves forward, Florence moves forward. It's all going wrong for Vettel here in China."

RUDI Seb, we need to retire the car. Box this lap, please. Box this lap.

"And that is Sebastian Vettel's race over. He was dragging that Porsche through, but unfortunately, he's not going to score anything today. I wonder, Martin, if Porsche will be able to fix Vettel's car in time for qualifying today or will Vettel have to settle for last on the grid."

"Well, Crofty, the good news for Vettel and Porsche is that they'll have some time to work on the car. Remember, this is a sprint weekend, so we've already had our sprint qualifying on Friday. The main qualifying session for tomorrow's Grand Prix isn't until later this afternoon. That gives the Porsche team a few hours to diagnose and hopefully fix whatever engine issue Seb was experiencing."

LAP 13:

TURN 13 - OCO and ALB exchange corners, ALB remains P15

HUL SETS FASTEST LAP : GAP 1.869

LAP 17:

"Hulkenberg is driving the race of his life. Norris is pushing hard, but can't find a way to catch up with that Audi. Hulkenberg, after so many years, has a chance to get a podium on this sprint race. Audi is looking to make some noise today."

"We're looking at the Championship leader here. Ava Florence is having a torrid time. She can't get past Antonelli in anyway. The Mercedes rookie is holding his own, albeit for a non-point position, but this is stuff the team likes to see. Florence is not happy with this."

FLORENCE I have no pace on the corners! This is a joke!

HENRY We understand, Ava. Just keep pushing.

LAP 19:

"And after so long, Nico Hulkenberg is going to take a sprint race win. He had a great start, great pace, and now he will see the fruits of his results. He takes P1! Behind him, Norris, 2.8 seconds behind. And the surprise of today, Felipe Drugovich, his F1 debut, goes stunningly. He takes P3!"

HENRY Okay, Ava. That's unfortunately P11. But we've still got the Grand Prix

FLORENCE Yeah... Let's do better in the race.

CHINA SPRINT RACE RESULTS

1. NICO HULKENBERG (+8)

2. LANDO NORRIS (+7)

3. FELIPE DRUGOVICH (+6)

4. MAX VERSTAPPEN (+5)

5. CHARLES LECLERC (+4)

6. LEWIS HAMILTON (+3)

7. GEORGE RUSSELL (+2)

8. LIAM LAWSON (+1)

9. OSCAR PIASTRI

10. ANDREA KIMI ANTONELLI

11. AVA FLORENCE

12. FERNANDO ALONSO

13. CARLOS SAINZ

14. LANCE STROLL

15. ALEXANDER ALBON

16. ESTEBAN OCON

17. YUKI TSUNODA

18. ISACK HADJAR

19. OLLIE BEARMAN

20. JACK DOOHAN

21. PIERRE GASLY

22. SEBASTIAN VETTEL [DNF]

audif1

THE MAN HAS DONE IT!! NICO HULKENBERG WINS THE SPRINT RACE!!

see comments below

nico: Hulkenberg finally breaks his podium curse! From zero podiums to sprint race winner 🏆

> kachow: I mean, it's a Sprint win. Doesn't get added to his stats.

mclaren_nation: Lando P2, not bad at all! 💪

> norris_fan: Our boy still on the podium! 🇬🇧

> delulu: biggest cope i've ever seen

brazilian_racing: Drugovich P3! Reserve driver making his mark! 🇧🇷✨

> f1_potential: What a debut sprint race!

motorsport

Verstappen gets "no satisfaction" from F1 sprint wins.

"There's no satisfaction to win a sprint for me," Verstappen said when asked by Motorsport.com if sprint format changes would sway his opinion. "You cross the line and say: 'All right, well, tomorrow is the race, the main one'. That's how it goes."

see comments below

blanchimont: One of us, one of us!

> chuckleclerc: When he revenge punted that other guy in iRacing, we all knew he was truly one of us. 

porschef1: Couldn't have said it better Max 👊

> lululemoncalled: OH NELL NAH!

> undercooked_sushi: Audi is playing chess, Porsche is playing 6D tetris.

> helicopter: Even when Audi wins, they lose - Porsche admin probably

QUALIFYING WAS HELL. Once again, the Porsche's struggled in qualifying. Lando continued to dominate the sessions, setting fastest time in both Q1 and Q2. Oscar had also found pace in his face, joining Lando as the second fastest in Q1 and the fourth fastest in Q2. But it was Audi who continued to shock faces. Hulkenberg and Drugovich were consistently top five in both sessions, Hulkenberg being a tenth behind Lando in Q2. No one understood, but the pendulum had swung to Audi's hands. And Porsche hated every second of it.

          SEBASTIAN VETTEL made into the third qualifying session. Changing his turbocharger had given him the slight boost over the other Porsche to make it into top ten. However, Ava's unfortunate fate continued once again.

AVA FLORENCE : P13

          ONCE AGAIN Ava was knocked out in Q2. She got out of her car. She wanted to scream and smash something. She knew she was rookie. Rookies were going to make mistakes, especially against the best competitions in the world. But she did not want to lose. Throughout her junior racing career, she rarely lost. F3 was a cakewalk. She was the champion before the fight even began. But not anymore. Ava was no longer the best anymore...

          BUT SHE REFUSED TO LET THAT BE TRUE.

f1

McLaren and Audi. What a surprise? 😱

see comments below

flashy_misery: Please don't bottle this one Mr. Norris 🙏🙏

> rigidinstructor: He's only done it once. I have a feeling he won't do it again.

DM_ME_YOUR_CONSPIRACIES: Incoming Hulkenberg win!

leFerrari: FORZA FERRARI!!

redundantnursery: Ava during qualifying: GP2 ENGINE!

> stroller: Or maybe she's just not that good. 🤷

> filthydepression: lmao ur pfp is Stroll. Why are you talking?

CHINA GRAND PRIX STARTING GRID

Lando Norris

Nico Hulkenberg

Oscar Piastri

Charles Leclerc

Lewis Hamilton

Max Verstappen

Felipe Drugovich

George Russell

Sebastian Vettel

Fernando Alonso

Carlos Sainz

Alexander Albon

Ava Florence

Andrea Kimi Antonelli

Lance Stroll

Yuki Tsunoda

Liam Lawson

Jack Doohan

Oliver Bearman

Esteban Ocon

Isack Hadjar

Pierre Gasly

SUNDAY came fast once again. Normally, Ava is never pressured coming into a race. Yet she couldn't help it. She made the mistake of hitting up social media before the race. And she saw all the comments. Ava wanted to prove them wrong. Badly. She never cared about other people's opinion. But today she did. She wanted to shut them up.

"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the China Grand Prix here at the Shanghai International Circuit! We've got a stunning race lined up today, with rain on the horizon, potentially shaking things up around the second stint. Let's take a look at the track, shall we? We've got two DRS zones on this 5.45 kilometer track, 56 laps to go for a total of 305 kilometers. The track record here is set by Michael Schumacher at 1:32.238. Now, on to the grid! It's Lando Norris on pole position—his third pole in 2025 and his second here in China, clinched during yesterday's sprint race. But, Martin, we saw what happened in that sprint race..."

"We certainly did, Crofty. Lando might've taken pole, but he lost out to Nico Hülkenberg, who starts P2 today. That Audi is looking mighty quick here in Shanghai, and they're gunning for a historic victory—Nico's first-ever F1 win and his maiden podium."

"Behind him, it's Oscar Piastri in P3, showing the kind of pace McLaren has been craving this weekend. Then, we have the Ferrari duo—Charles Leclerc and Lewis Hamilton—lining up in P4 and P5. And in P6, it's Max Verstappen, the lone Red Bull in the top 10." "And what a performance from Felipe Drugovich! P7 after a stellar sprint race—can he repeat that magic here today? We have to see. But, Crofty, he's got some big names breathing down his neck: George Russell and Sebastian Vettel in P8 and P9."

"Indeed he does. Rounding out the top 10, it's the evergreen Fernando Alonso, but the big story today is Ava Florence. The Porsche rookie struggled in qualifying, didn't she, Martin?"

"She did. Starting down in P13, she admitted she's fighting the car here in China. But keep an eye on her; she's proven she can climb through the pack. We saw her thrilling wet-weather race in Monza in F3. So, with rain potentially falling, she might have some room here to climb some positions."

HENRY Keep calm here Ava. We're betting on the rain.

"Tire strategies are interesting too. Most of the top 10 are on softs, but Leclerc and Hamilton are on mediums, betting on the rain arriving a bit later. Let's see if that gamble pays off. All right—it's five lights here in China... And IT'S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO! Lando Norris gets a blinding start, but look at Hülkenberg! He's right on Lando's gearbox. Is this a repeat of the sprint? Not this time! Lando shuts the door. Lando Norris remains in P1. Hülkenberg holds P2, with Piastri, Leclerc, and Hamilton filing in behind. But wait—look further back. Ava Florence is on a charge! She's already jumped Alexander Albon and Carlos Sainz in one corner!"

"Carlos seemed to struggle off the line, letting Albon close in, and Ava pounced on that opportunity—using Albon's slipstream to sweep past both drivers. She's up to P11!"

"Meanwhile, at the back, it's a scrap between Jack Doohan, Oliver Bearman, Esteban Ocon, and the rest of the midfield pack. Further up, Liam Lawson is locked in battle with Yuki Tsunoda—the former Racing Bull rivals going wheel-to-wheel! Liam dives in... Not enough. Tsunoda holds position into Turn 4, but that fight's far from over."

"Back at the front, Lando Norris maintains his lead through the first sector. Behind him, it's Hülkenberg, Piastri, Leclerc, and Hamilton—all keeping it clean for now."

"And the battle for P8 is heating up—Russell and Vettel going at it hammer and tongs! Can one of them snatch the position before the lap ends? And Fernando Alonso in P10—he's got Eva Florence bearing down on him. She's already gained two positions. Can she make it three before the end of the lap?"

LAP 3:

Turn 14 - LAW passes TSU, moves up to P16

LANDO NORRIS FASTEST LAP : GAP +.475

LAP 5:

Turn 13 - BEA overtakes DOO, taking P18

LAP 9:

"It's Ava Florence right on the gearbox of Fernando Alonso! She needs this position—and fast—if she has any hope of climbing through the field before the rain arrives. Here comes Fernando Alonzo trying to hold off the Porsche. But Ava's got DRS now! She's closing in fast, following Alonso down the straight—hitting 210 miles per hour as they plunge downhill."

"A quick burst of throttle into the kink at Turn 4... she's sticking right with him. Look at her pace, Crofty! Two laps in, and it seems like Ava's found something overnight in that Porsche. She's already a tenth quicker than Fernando through Sector 1, closing in as they approach Turn 6—a short straight, but plenty of room to make a move if you're brave enough."

"Ava dives down the inside into Turn 6. Oh my goodness! What a bold move! Florence just dive bombs into Turn 6, squeezing in that tiny gap. Fernando must've thought he'd covered her off, but Ava committed—absolutely fearless. She saw the tiny gap Alonso left and thought, 'That's enough for me!' Brilliant move."

"Absolutely. She took the risk and it's paid off! Ava Florence up to P10 with a stunning overtake on Fernando Alonso. That was precision racing at its finest."

LAP 19:

NICO HULKENBERG SETS FASTEST LAP : GAP TO P1 +2.345

HENRY Okay, Ava. We're going to take a risk and put slicks on now.

AVA Are you sure? Cause I think Fernando is behind.

HENRY Fernando is 3.6 seconds behind. We're comfortable trying this

AVA I'm coming in.

"And there's Ava Florence being called into the pits. She's going to be the first driver to pit and she's heading out slicks. So, Porsche thinks they can get a jump on these other drivers by pitting first before the rain."

AVA FLORENCE PITS : 3.0 SECONDS | P12

TOM Oscar, we think rain should come in 2-5 laps for now.

PIASTRI Are any drivers coming in?

TOM Ava is the only driver on slicks

PIASTRI I think we should pit.

TOM Your call.

OSCAR PIASTRI PITS  : 2.8 SECONDS | P7

LAP 21 - 35:

RAIN DETECTED - DRIVERS COME INTO PITS

HENRY Ava, you're P6. Be careful of Leclerc coming out of the pits.

"And that's Ava Florence, who's gamble for the early pitstop paid off. Finds herself in P6 as the rest of the field comes in for wet tires. But here comes Charles Leclerc, fresh out of the pits. How will this go?"

"This will be her first fight against the Monegasque. Ferrari vs Porsche. I've got high expectations on this one."

"And I'm everyone else too. Ava is staring down the rear end of that Ferrari. She's alongside into Turn 14! Leclerc has the inside line, forcing Florence wide. Brilliant defensive driving! But Florence is going to have none of that. She's been forced wide one too many in Formula 1, the earlier being by Russell in Australia. She tries again into Turn 6, but Leclerc isn't going to let if fly."

"She's getting better traction out of the corner though. They're side-by-side through Turn 7! But Ava has to back off."

...

"Florence has been patient for a while. Will she make the move? Yes she will. Florence dives down the inside at Turn 1, is ahead at the apex, but Leclerc cuts back. He's got the position again through Turn 2."

...

"Patience must be running thin for the Belgian. She's got DRS. Leclerc under pressure. Florence has the speed, she has the line... She dives in Turn 6 and once again it sticks. Florence up to P5. Leclerc has to back off."

"It's that move again. She's did on Alonso, and it's working for her, just squeezing through an impossibly small gap."

LAP 40 - 50:

LANDO NORRIS SETS FASTEST LAP : GAP +4.560

"Now it's Verstappen in Florence's sights. He's not going to make it easy though. The defending champion. Look at that! He's forcing her wide at Turn 13. Florence has to take to the runoff!"

"Verstappen's defense is brutal. He's chopping across Florence's nose into Turn 1. He's making her go wide. Off the racing line. She has to back out of it in everyone. That's hard but fair racing from the world champion. We saw it last year. He can defend."

...

"Florence tries again into the hairpin, but Verstappen is wise to it. He positions his car perfectly, leaving no gap for Florence to exploit."

"This is a different challenge for Florence. Verstappen's aggressive style is a stark contrast to Leclerc's more precise approach. He races to the extreme limit. But is she going to try the same overtake she did on Leclerc?"

"We'll see, Martin, if it sticks on Verstappen."

...

"Oh my! Verstappen nearly pushed Florence into the wall on the exit of Turn 13. The Porsche driver had to take evasive action there."

FLORENCE What the f*** is he doing?

HENRY Keep your head down. We're faster. Keep racing.

FLORENCE F****** stupid. He almost crashed me!

...

"Florence is not giving up! She's got a great run out of Turn 13 once again, pulls alongside Verstappen, and... she's done it! Florence sweeps around the outside of Turn 14 to take P4! What a move!"

"Incredible, Crofty! Florence has managed to outfox Verstappen. That move took nerves of steel!"

LAP 51-55

"With just 6 laps to go, Florence is hunting down Hamilton. The gap is coming down rapidly."

...

"Florence is all over the back of Hamilton. She tries the inside at Turn 6, but Hamilton closes the door. Not this time!"

...

"This is it! Florence gets a great exit out of Turn 6, pulls alongside Hamilton into Turn 7, and... she's through! Ava Florence up to P3 with just over a lap to go!"

...

"But she's not done yet, Crofty! Look at this, she's setting purple sectors. Florence is pushing for the fastest lap of the race!"

LAP 56

"From start to finish, Lando does the job. He holds pole position, he keeps that car in front. LANDO NORRIS WINS THE CHINA GRAND PRIX! Nico Hulkenberg secures his first podium in second! Behind, Ava Florence coming into view. She was going for the fastest lap. Will she do it?"

"Florence crosses the line and... yes! She's done it! Fastest lap of the race on the final lap!"

"Well, she certainly stole the show today. From struggling in qualifying to a podium finish, it's a remarkable turnaround for the Porsche driver. This young driver has shown incredible race craft and determination today. Ava Florence. That's the name to remember."

HENRY Phenomenal job, Ava! That's P3!

FLORENCE YES! OH THANK YOU SO MUCH!! And a tribute to Bottas... To whom it may concern, F*** you!

CHINA GRAND PRIX RESULTS

1. Lando Norris (+25)

2. Nico Hulkenberg (+18)

3. Ava Florence (+15)

4. Lewis Hamilton (+12)

5. Max Verstappen (+10)

6. Charles Leclerc (+8)

7. Sebastian Vettel (+6)

8. Oscar Piastri (+4)

9. George Russell (+2)

10. Liam Lawson (+1)

11. Felipe Drugovich

12. Fernando Alonso

13. Carlos Sainz

14. Andrea Kimi Antonelli

15. Alexander Albon

16. Lance Stroll

17. Pierre Gasly

18. Oliver Bearman

19. Yuki Tsunoda

20. Jack Doohan

21. Esteban Ocon

22. Isack Hadjar

porschef1

Sprint races are overrated anyway.

tagged: avaflorence

see comments below

illegal_definition: Summoned all of Senna's energy for this drive.

lululemoncalled: THATS MY GIRL!! PORSCHE IS THE ONLY GERMAN WORTH WINNING!! 👑

heturnedintome: First George, now Max. Everyone is trynna kill Ava.

> delulu: But she cooked regardless 🔥🔥

audif1: 🙄

> florence4ever: Stay jealous

> les_blanc: Why would they be? Nico finished higher.

> florence4ever: Check the standings.

convictedcassette: Please give her a functioning car next time so she doesn't have to struggle as much. 🙏🙏

CHINA POST-RACE INTERVIEW

Interview: So, Lando. Great race. Congrats on the win. You had a bit of a lackluster sprint race, but you managed to pull it off today. How was it?

Lando: It was great. I got the start just right and we were quite ahead of the pack when the rain started coming in. So, I held onto that lead.  Maybe it was a bit slow on the first stint, didn't get the happen wanted. But it worked out.

Interview: Nico, this is your maiden podium in Formula 1. How does it feel to achieve this after so long?

Nico: This feels amazing. Like you said, for so long I've been chasing a podium. The sprint win the other day gave me a vote of confidence. And I'm super grateful to the team, to Audi for building a competitive car. And I'm going to enjoy this podium.

Interviewer: Ava, you are the talk of the race. From P13 to podium, incredible strategy, incredible overtakes. How did you do it?

Ava: Firstly, they just give you the most beautiful dresses in the world. It's unfair. I know I'm not supposed to flirt with staff but Seb got away with it, so it's fine. Secondly, yeah, great call by the team to put early. We got a huge jump out of it. And then it was just a game of trying to get past the juggernauts. Leclerc was a good fight. Defenitley thought we had the pace to make it easy, but it wasn't. Max was also tough. I do think he tried to kill me at one point, but we got past anyway. Then it was just a clear track. I wasn't particularly set on passing Hamilton, but more so on closing the gap to see what could happen. And what happened was what you say... so super happy.

CHINA POST-RACE INTERVIEW

Interview: So, Lando. Great race. Congrats on the win. You had a bit of a lackluster sprint race, but you managed to pull it off today. How was it?

Lando: It was great. I got the start just right and we were quite ahead of the pack when the rain started coming in. So, I held onto that lead.  Maybe it was a bit slow on the first stint, didn't get the happen wanted. But it worked out.

Interview: Nico, this is your maiden podium in Formula 1. How does it feel to achieve this after so long?

Nico: This feels amazing. Like you said, for so long I've been chasing a podium. The sprint win the other day gave me a vote of confidence. And I'm super grateful to the team, to Audi for building a competitive car. And I'm going to enjoy this podium.

Interviewer: Ava, you are the talk of the race. From P13 to podium, incredible strategy, incredible overtakes. How did you do it?

Ava: Firstly, they just give you the most beautiful dresses in the world. It's unfair. I know I'm not supposed to flirt with staff but Seb got away with it, so it's fine. Secondly, yeah, great call by the team to put early. We got a huge jump out of it. And then it was just a game of trying to get past the juggernauts. Leclerc was a good fight. Defenitley thought we had the pace to make it easy, but it wasn't. Max was also tough. I do think he tried to kill me at one point, but we got past anyway. Then it was just a clear track. I wasn't particularly set on passing Hamilton, but more so on closing the gap to see what could happen. And what happened was what you say... so super happy. avaflorence

Race tracks are better when they're wet. Thank you China for blessing me today. Onwards to Bahrain.

see comments below

florence4ever: MAMA cooked these bums!

elpadre: Ava, describe your Grand Prix in one sentence

> avaflorence: GP2 ENGINE... GP2 ENGINE!!

> toastedsalmon: 😭😭

lululemoncalled: I love she does not care at all about the swearing rule.

> delulu: They haven't done anything yet. She's that girl.

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