#and have vocalized that whatever problem I’m having

[loverboy-cc]

YEAAAAAHG this, at least in my experience, is exacerbated if you have good [I want to say problem solving skills here. That’s not what it is, the problem is not solved, it’s avoided.]

I had a very similar experience with the remotes. I decided to never use them, because I knew I could use the buttons on the side of the tv and on top of the cable box that worked so instead of learning The Skill I taught myself a completely different one that I could fathom in a way that I could not with the remotes.

This (and many other similar experiences) created an odd dissonance between what I could do, and what people expected me to be able to do.

Continually doing things “wrong” while still getting the expected results creates this entirely separate barrier on top of the communication issue where people don’t expect you to need help, and often don’t provide it if you do manage to ask, because your “competence” makes them assume you already know more than them.

I realized the other day that the reason I didn't watch much TV as a teenager (and why I'm only now catching up on late aughts/early teens media that I missed), is because I literally didn't understand how to use our TV. My parents got a new system, and it had three remotes with a Venn diagram of functions. If someone left the TV on an unfamiliar mode, I didn't know how to get back to where I wanted to be, so I just stopped watching TV on my own altogether.

I explained all this to my therapist, because I didn't know if this was more related to my then-unnoticed autism, or to my relationship with my parents at the time (we had issues less/unrelated to neurodivergency). She told me something interesting.

In children's autism assessments, a common test is to give them a straightforward task that they cannot reasonably perform, like opening an overtight jar. The "real" test is to see, when they realize that they cannot do it on their own, if they approach a caregiver for help. Children that do not seek help are more likely to be autistic than those that do.

This aligns with the compulsory independence I've noticed to be common in autistic adults, particularly articulated by those with lower support needs and/or who were evaluated later in life. It just genuinely does not occur to us to ask for help, to the point that we abandon many tasks that we could easily perform with minor assistance. I had assumed it was due to a shared common social trauma (ie bad experiences with asking for help in the past), but the fact that this trait is a childhood test metric hints at something deeper.

My therapist told me that the extremely pathologizing main theory is that this has something to do with theory of mind, that is doesn't occur to us that other people may have skills that we do not. I can't speak for my early childhood self, or for all autistic people, but I don't buy this. Even if I'm aware that someone else has knowledge that I do not (as with my parents understanding of our TV), asking for help still doesn't present itself as an option. Why?

My best guess, using only myself as a model, is due to the static wall of a communication barrier. I struggle a lot to make myself understood, to articulate the thing in my brain well enough that it will appear identically (or at least close enough) in somebody else's brain. I need to be actively aware of myself and my audience. I need to know the correct words, the correct sentence structure, and a close-enough tone, cadence, and body language. I need draft scripts to react to possible responses, because if I get caught too off guard, I may need several minutes to construct an appropriate response. In simple day-to-day interactions, I can get by okay. In a few very specific situations, I can excel. When given the opportunity, I can write more clearly than I am ever capable of speaking.

When I'm in a situation where I need help, I don't have many of my components of communication. I don't always know what my audience knows. I don't have sufficient vocabulary to explain what I need. I don't know what information is relevant to convey, and the order in which I should convey it. I don't often understand the degree of help I need, so I can come across inappropriately urgent or overly relaxed. I have no ability to preplan scripts because I don't even know the basic plot of the situation.

I can stumble though with one or two deficiencies, but if I'm missing too much, me and the potential helper become mutually unintelligible. I have learned the limits of what I can expect from myself, and it is conceptualized as a real and physical barrier. I am not a runner, so running a 5k tomorrow does not present itself as an option to me. In the same way, if I have subconscious knowledge that an interaction is beyond my capability, it does not present itself as an option to me. It's the minimum communication requirements that prevent me from asking for help, not anything to do with the concept of help itself.

Maybe. This is the theory of one person. I'm curious if anyone else vibes with this at all.

[hyewka]

warnings. switch!beomgyu, idol!au, brief mention of choking

cant stop thinking about trainee!reader and idol!beomgyu, where gyu first introduces a fuck buddy relationship after sleeping with you one time, not aware that alone would be the sole reason his obsession and attachment manifests. just imagine dom gyu whos used to fucking with no strings attached due to the nature of his occupation and who thinks itll be the same with you until he feels bored enough to leave your messages on delivered. but idol!beomgyu who one day lets out his frustrations, too roughly and mean that when hes done and sees the hurt, the less than normal distance, gets some clarity to immediately melt into apologies, inspecting every inch of your body to be sure you’re okay.

beomgyu who for once, lets someone sleep in with him after sex all because of what he assumed was really bad guilty conscience. awkward as he attempts to scoot for some room, letting you cover your body under his blanket, just completely rigid as he stares at the ceiling with his hands to his sides like some soldier.

then…he does it again, he lets you sleep in, this time its because he’s tired and he can feel your exhaustion radiating off you. he’ll feel bad letting you walk all the way to your flat. but due to how frequent you get together, his arms feel more comfortable wrapping around your figure as you drift to sleep.

when he lets it happen the third time, it’s a problem.

you didn’t fuck, not even a quickie or a makeout session, just him, for whatever reason, asking you to cuddle. cuddle. “i’m stressed, with the comeback and all.” he mumbles lamely, biting down slightly on his lip, trying to convince himself as well.

“when you’re stressed… we fuck.” you say slowly, and skeptically.

just when hes about to backtrack and take it back you jump in his bed anyway, “whatever i’m not gonna refuse a good mattress.”

and then when you sleep with your face turned towards him, he feels like hes been sucked in, looking at every detail as if hes trying to have a picture in his head forever.

beomgyu who gets attached way too fast and way too quick that after the fourth time you‘ve fucked around and sees you flirting it up with soobin he absolutely loses it.

“i just got him a gift to congragulate him for landing the mc gig..why’re you acting like i murdered your entire bloodline?”

because thats what it feels like.

he inexplicably presses harder on your throat, shutting you up more by pressing his lips on yours, kissing and kissing till your lips were swollen, his brows furrowed deeply as you pathetically attempt to roll your hips into his. fucking you against the wall in a random artists’ green room, five minutes before a pre recording…hes fucking lost his mind.

god, he’s addicted.

imagine when your dynamic slowly flips, none of you are aware until you realize how often he follows you around like a puppy fan—you don’t think he was ever this clingy. beomgyu being the one who tries to meet up any chance available even paying you a visit secretly in the practice room at midnight, sneaking in snacks.

then its the sex— he’s more vocal, more sensitive when you touch him, moaning so loud you would have to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. his eyes glaze over at times when you praise him and holy shit what the fuck was up with choi beomgyu.

the beomgyu you met that one day, fucked at a random hotel, and quite literally introduced hard kinks almost immedietely nows in front of you, crumbling down to his knees with his glossy eyes peering up at you like you were a god, begging you to use his face to get off. ruin his makeup. ruin him, please.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Geto/gojo/reader “I can’t believe there’s only one bed” and HAPPY LATE BIRTHDAY

THANK YOOUUU!! So, this one really sang to me, I went ahead and combined the two, mostly because they are very similar. Thank you both for the prompt!!

Now Presenting...

Starring: A flirty Satoru Gojo, and a tired Suguru Geto

Your body protested every step you took as you walked into the hotel, screaming at you to lay down and accept the sweet embrace of death. Okay, maybe death was a little extreme, but you could definitely have gone for a light coma in that moment. A yawn you had been suppressing came forward, and you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“Awe, well aren’t you cute when you’re sleepy.” Gojo teased with a smile, earning him a glare from you. 

“Shut up Satoru.” This entire trip he kept making note of how cute you were, and how you needed to be protected, and at this point, he was on the brink of losing vocal cord privileges.

“Flirt later you two, let’s just get checked in.” Suguru muttered as he ushered the two of you to the front desk. He tried to summon a friendly smile for the clerk, but it didn’t touch his tired eyes. “Hi! Uh, we should have two reservations under Masamichi Yaga.” He said, really hoping they didn’t ask for an id. He told his teacher that he should probably put the rooms under one of the three people going on the mission, but the man was more muscle than brain.

The young worker started typing on the computer, before confusion fell over her features. “Um, I found the reservations, but it says it’s only for one room?” She asked. You were a bit taken back by that, and you could tell from the looks on their faces the boys were too. You thought for sure you’d at least get your own room. But, then again, if getting a room with 3 beds was cheaper than getting 2 separate rooms, it did make sense for Yaga to take that route, the penny pinching bastard. 

“Uh, yea that should be fine, that’s us.” Suguru shrugged, too tired to really argue. Much to your relief (and concern) the woman nodded and happily gave over the room key, not bothering to ask for an ID. What a stand up place. The three of you dragged your tired worn bodies over to the elevator. Well, two of you did. Satoru felt fine, because of course he did. And because he had no problem filling the elevator with whatever came to his head. You shared a look with Suguru.

How do we shut him up? Your eyes asked.

Pillow over his face as he sleeps Sugurus eyes offered.

No, I want him to shut up now. 

Oh, that’s not gonna happen. For now, we just have to endure him.

You sighed, knowing he was right and hating that fact at the same time. Thankfully, the elevator door opened, and the room wasn’t far from it. Geto unlocked the door, and you and Gojo practically fell over him to get into it. You quickly went to grab your toothbrush, and Gojo went to fiddle with the tv. It was Suguru who noticed it first.

“Uh, guys? I don’t see another bed.” He said. You and Gojo stopped cold in your tracks, heads whipping to the center of the room and- yep. That was one bed, and only one bed. Not even so much as a pull out couch in sight. 

“OH ho ho!!” Satoru laughed, launching himself onto the bed and folding himself into what you think was meant to be a sexy pose. “I’ve read fan fiction before, I know what happens here!” He cackled, “Be gentle with me, I’m a virgin” He swooned, acting like a helpless flower. 

“I call sleeping in the bathtub.” Suguru said, checking out of this battle before it became a war.

“No, Don’t!” Gojo whined, reaching out to him, “The bathtub is cold and hard, I'm warm and soft. Unless you want me to be hard.” He winked. 

“I can’t believe there’s only one fucking bed, who sets this shit up?!” You snapped, aggressively waving your hands at the bed.

“God.” Gojo responded.

“Bad fan fiction writers.” Geto retorted, apparently salty about his characterization in my past fics. 

“Satoru get out of the bed.” You demanded, shaking your head. You did not just get out of a fight with ten, count em, ten first grade curses to sleep on the floor.

“How about you get in the bed?” He purred.

“I will, as soon as you get out of it.” you scoffed, fighting back a laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

“Why not get in it with me?” He grinned at you, opening his arms wide as an invitation. 

“I’d rather sleep in the bathtub.” You replied.

“Not an option, I already called it!” Suguru reminded you.

“Why don’t you sleep with him?” You accused more than asked, “He’s your man!”

“He is most definitely not my man!” Geto rebuffed the statement, shaking his head.

“He’s actually my man, we just haven’t taken our relationship to the next level yet.” Satoru purred with a cheeky wink to Geto to really seal the deal. Geto rolled his eyes.

“I’m going to bed, goodnight.” He said, going to grab a pillow from the bed, only for Satoru to grab his arm.

“Come on guys, don’t be silly! This bed is big enough for all of us!” He argued, “We all trust each other, right?!” Gojo paused long enough to look at both you and Geto, but not long enough for an answer. He already knew it. “We know no ones going to try any funny business, we trust each other with our lives there's no reason for any of us to be uncomfortable tonight!” you and Suguru shared more glances. Gojo may be annoying, but when he was right he was right. The only thing really keeping the three of you from sharing was standard social conventions. 

“Fine, but if any of you touch me I’m throwing you off the balcony.” You warned. Geto sighed and ran a hand through his hair, sitting on the bed.

“I just don’t get why we weren’t warned about this.”

“I mean, it kind of explains the weird look she gave us.” You noted, sitting on the other side of Gojo.

“Yay, sleepover!” Gojo cheered, grabbing onto Suguru because he was the one that didn’t threaten him, “Fair warning, I’m a cuddler.” He grinned, wiggling his eyebrows for emphasis. 

“I knew I should have just slept in the tub.” Geto sighed.

🛏️🛏️🛏️

In the morning, you were a tangled mess of limbs and drool with your two best friends. Any warning against cuddling being tossed to the wind in exchange for the comfort human warmth brings. You hated to admit it, but it was the best sleep you had gotten in weeks. Gojo woke up not long after you, smiling softly, slowly coming back to life.

“Good morning,” He said. You shook your head and covered his face with a pillow.

“It was before you started talking.” You muttered.“It’s 6 am, go back to bed.” Suguru begged, not happy to have been woken up.

[pampushky]

Teaser: My Name Is Brutus (And My Name Means Heavy)

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader

oooo what's this?? me dropping a juicy little teaser of probably one of my favorite things I've written??

so. this is basically an ABO au with a race engineer & lauda mc, with the wonderful trope of enemies to lovers thrown in, as you will soon see from the scene I'm releasing a bit early.

other things about the fic: slow, and i mean fucking slow, burn. exploration of what disabilities would look like in the ABO world (especially centered around the sense of smell and how that could be considered a disability if someone doesn't have one in a world where most things are communicated by smell), societal pressures about what the ideal alpha/omega/beta should look like to the rest of the world which leads to Lando making assumptions about MC's secondary gender/sex, mentions of past emotional & mental abuse, PTSD, scarring, and worries about self-worth. Oh. and obvious hurt/comfort. But again, and I cannot emphasize this enough. Slow. Fucking. Burn.

uhhh i guess i'll do a tag list too for this so. tell me if you wanna be on that.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like, when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, icy eyes that challenge even the Lauda death stare. “What do you mean?” You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say whatever you were about to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The heavily medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissy fit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icy-calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or the way you speak to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you talk. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With the classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth....

[tripleglitchwriting]

Kinesthesis 3

Jazz/Prowl/HumanReader first contact AU

Part 2

I am so sorry this took so long 😭 but I finally got something out! This was written over the course of multiple months so if it’s inconsistent that’s why. Over my impromptu hiatus I’ve grown as a writer and as a person so that will probably change the way this story goes, but not to worry! I still plan on carrying on with this fic.

Be aware that I may not remember things about that last two chapters before this because it’s been a while. If you find any mistakes, let me know!

Also, thank you to the anons that encouraged me to keep going! This one goes out to you.

So, now you have quite a few problems. Not only were the ‘robots’ alive, they were also obviously damaged and asking for your help. Your help. Of all people. You still didn’t know where they came from, if someone was piloting them, how they got here, what that blue liquid was, or why one of them only made weird metallic scratching sounds. That one in particular really freaked you out when it first started ‘speaking’. At the time, you immediately assumed there was a metal demon somewhere coming to eat you.

Instead of that, they were just giant robots asking for your help in the middle of asscrack nowhere. Very simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

“I’m… going to get to work.” You told the one apparently named ‘Prowl’. He didn’t make any sputtering noises at you this time, so you took that as your go-ahead.

He was huge. Well, you knew that, but it was still jarring. You had to literally climb him to get to his wounds. Delicately placing your rag to the injured spot on his neck, you could feel the pump of something akin to a heart under the metal. Now that was weird. Wait, maybe it was just a fuel pump of somesort. He couldn’t… it couldn't have an actual heartbeat, right? Robots don’t have heartbeats.

That isn’t possible.

After a bit of cleaning up blue liquid and trying not to cut yourself on shards of metal, a realization dawned on you. These guys were more complicated than you thought. Really, a robot shouldn’t have this much… everything. They shouldn’t have half of whatever parts are in them. What kind of coding was driving them anyway? What fuel did they even use? The blue stuff?

Oh, who are you kidding. They aren’t robots. They can’t be. They can’t just be robots. They fell from the sky, of course they can’t be robots! Your heart picked up its already erratic pace, yet even with shaky hands, your work took priority.

Soon after there wasn’t a hole in Prowl anymore. Not one on his neck, anyway. You counted that as a win. But seeing as there were way more lacerations, dents, and cuts all over both of them, you definitely had the rest of your work cut out for you.

Simple. Foolproof, even. Nothing wrong there.

—---------------------

Jazz, with his sight still mostly busted, anxiously awaited some sort of indicator that the person helping them was actually patching up Prowl. They seemed pretty stunned earlier. Scared. He had assumed they’d run away and get help. That would be a more reasonable reaction, right?

Obviously it was probably better that they didn’t, this was a completely new planet after all. They’d be scrap if it weren’t for this random person helping them out. This person that is native to this new planet. With… no knowledge of Cybertronian biology- oh scrap. This person had no idea what they were doing!

“W – it! Wa– a - i!” Staticy, barely understandable garble came out of his vocalizer. He heard a tiny peep out of the little guy and a kind of ‘hrmph’ from Prowl.

“What? What is it? Did I do something wrong?” They squeaked in a comically high-pitch tone. “I- I’m sorry, I- know mechanics but this is kind of different and I don’t want to hurt anybody I just-”

“Y- yo- u kno- me- c– nics?”

“Um, yeah, it’s what I do. For school.”

“S- – -ry f’r t--e frig–t, I’m j-st co– m– in’ to–my–sen s- s- ses, an’ rel-i’ed wher– we ar’... an’ I don’ kn- kn- kn- – -w… ca—n– ya- re- – -y fi- x us?”

“O- oh, n- now yo- -y questi- on it?” Prowl commented from the sidelines. Jazz deliberately ignored him.

“I mean, I can, I just need some time to figure everything out… i- it doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“W- Wha-t’s’t sayi- in- ing?”

“A- askin’ i- if it- it- it- hu- – -ts.”

“O- of co- rs’ it h-urts!”

“Wait, what’s he saying?”

Jazz cringed for a moment, realizing just how taxing it’s going to be on him to keep translating. Of course, he decided to use it to his advantage. Why not have some fun in the face of certain death?

“H- he s’ys h’s t—ckl’sh.”

“Oh, um, okay. Does that mean you guys can’t feel pain? Like, can I go harder with this? I have some power tools I can use back in—” Okay. Bad plan.

“N- N- N-O we C- – -N Fe’L It!”

“Oh, um, can or can’t?”

“C- C- C- C- CAAIIIEEEZZZZzzzt!” His vocalizer gave off a pointedly unpleasant sound just before shorting out.

“Is that… should I know what that means?” Jazz took a second to reset his vocalizer.

“N- n- n- o… b- b’t w– fe’l pa’n… i–t h- – -rts…”

“Can feel pain, got it. Um, is your voice okay? I can try fixing it… if that’s a thing I can fix…?” As much as he appreciated the gesture, Jazz wasn’t ready for that kind of operation.

“N- n - o thn’ks.”

“Alright… I’m gonna keep going here then.”

It was then, nearly offline, cut off from most forms of communication, on a completely alien planet, that Jazz realized this might be a little bit too much to handle.

“Y- y- you—re an ‘di—ot.”

“M- ay’e… bu— ‘least I c’n t- t- ta-k to ou- fr’nd ‘ere.”

“It’s Wh—lja’k, o- of c-cou’se I d- di—-nnooowoowOWW!” Jazz heard a loud crash followed by a tiny scream.

“Oh my god I’m so sorry, what did I do? I- I didn’t know, oh my god…”

“Wh—t? —at ‘appe— d?!”

“I- I’m sorry, I think I hit something, I’m so sorry!”

“Pr—ler? P—owl!?”

He got a groan in response. A groan and a new, distinct, clear sound.

“—bbzzzt —- bzzzt ——tobots! This is Optim— —ime. If yo- can hear thi-, heed my call. The Arc is inoperable. Most of you are scattered across an alien world. While I do not know where the Decepticons have landed, I can confirm they are on the planet with us. Do not lose hope here, my friends. For the fate of Cybertron and the remaining Autobots rests in your capable servos. Attached to this message are the coordinates to the Arc, I will be waiting for you there. Good luck—- bzzzt —— bzzzt—-!”

The three sat in silence. While he couldn’t see the hologram that was most likely coming from Prowl’s projector, he heard what the message contained. They were safe. Optimus was safe. And he once again had a goal to achieve.

“Wh- what the hell was that!?”

“Th’nk Pri—us…” Prowl whispered.

“It -as… a- a- f- fri—nd.”

“Oh, okay. What did your friend say?”

“Th— w- we ha— so—me-here t- be.” Jazz attempted to move his body, but was once again denied. “W- we n- n- ne—d to g—-!”

“Hey, woah woah woah! You are not well enough to get up yet! I haven’t even started patching you up!”

“Aau—augh! I- I- kn— Ratc— uh, I- I- I kno—“

“Settle down. I- I’ll be as fast as I can, alright?”

Jazz huffed in halfhearted agreement. Prowl, on the other hand…

—---------------------

He thought this was an incredible waste of their time. Oh, sure, he needed to be fixed, but he was doing just fine now and he did not need help from a mysterious stranger he couldn’t understand. How could he, Prowl of Petrex, need the help of a tiny little creature like this one? There was no such need. The only need he had was to get himself and Jazz functional again, report back to Optimus, and win the war.

He tried to get up. After about half a second of metal creaking, unconscious groaning, and a little squeak from his benefactor, his body gave out. His spark burned with a searing mixture of frustration and stress as he tried to clench a servo. But of course he couldn’t. Of course he was stuck. Injured, vulnerable, and useless. But still, Optimus needed him. Needed them. So he needed to get up!

“C- cal- m d- do— n Pr—‘er… ye’ sca- a- rin’ ‘em…” He could hear panicked chittering from somewhere on top of him. He had half a mind to shoo the thing away, but even if he could raise his servo, he knew this was his only hope. He would never admit that, obviously, but deep in his spark he knew.

He didn’t respond to Jazz. He didn’t need to. He just focused on the little twinge of pain somewhere atop his chassis and a wound being sealed. A familiar feeling. Not too familiar, not like this, but enough to be comforting.

He imagined the medbay in the Arc. That time when they defeated the enemy and no one had to die. They won, and everyone cheered and celebrated and did whatever people do to express joy during a war.

He was unconscious for cycles. Just because nobody died doesn’t mean nobody was hurt. And he was really, really hurt. But it didn’t matter, not even to him. Moments like that are rare, after all. When one could rejoice without mourning the loss of a friend. He’d only expected Ratchet or First Aid to stay with him during that time. Who wouldn’t want to celebrate the spoils of victory? No one is willing to give up a moment of solace like that. No one is stupid enough to pass up the opportunity for happiness. Except Jazz.

Jazz stayed with him the whole time. He stayed by his bedside, refusing to leave once the required surgery was over. He brought glasses of energon for both of them. To share.

Prowl didn’t wake up then. He missed the party and the congratulations and the relief. He missed Jazz telling him stories and about his day. He missed when the rest of the crew stopped by to check on him. When he did finally come out of stasis, Jazz wasn’t there. Not of his own volition, but because he passed out on the floor due to exhaustion. They both got a long lecture about taking care of themself from Ratchet when it was over.

And Jazz is there, now, still with him. Bleeding out and broken, but still there. And Prowl was powerless to help him. His HUD sang one final message in his head before it went suddenly silent, and he fell helplessly into the deep abyss of stasis.

[bunniesandbeheadings]

I’m generally not as anal about people being wrong on the internet as I once was and I don’t like arguing as much as I used to so I have to stay quiet

But sometimes

People are so wrong and it,

I mean you’re wrong!

Like this isn’t even a “oh well history is complicated people interpret things differently” it’s, “this is just objectively untrue what you’re saying.” It would be like saying the bastille was stormed in 2013; that’s just not true no matter what your religion or political ideology or whatever lens is

Robespierre was,,, just not in favor of dechristianization. He was very much against it. Love him or hate him or just not give a shit, he objectively was very vocally against dechristianization. This caused friction with other Montagnards. It was a problem. It was a whole thing!

[ryukatters]

kaaatttt 😭😭😭 i need some satoru headcanons to heal my soul... what is he like as a bf??

ask and you shall receive my love (writing this to heal my soul)

content: modern AU, fluff, nsfw headcanons at the end

SFW

“mmm..i think i deserve a little treat right now.” 

except he says that at least 5 times a day and you will also be given a little treat. he does not care if you don’t want to eat kikufuku right now, you will be accompanying him to get some. 

speaking of, this man is basically eating 24/7. if gojo leaves your side for any reason while you guys are home, just know he is scavenging the kitchen for scraps like the raccoon he is. 

food is one of satoru’s main love languages. there’s something oddly satisfying and strangely warm about his loved ones eating and sharing a meal together, even if they tend to make him the butt of the joke in every single dinner conversation. 

will force you to become a sanrio girly idc (if you aren’t one already)

“babe, look!” "satoru, we have enough cinnamoroll plushies at home." "so you hate me then?"

the type to pick you up and spin you around whenever you two hug. he’ll spin and spin until both of you are dizzy and crash onto the couch.

attention whore. also just a whore in general but mostly a whore for (your) attention. will absolutely do the MOST to make sure your eyes are on him— i’m talking about poking your cheek, locking your phone if you’re scrolling through tiktok next to him, and it doesn’t even take much for him to start begging. he’s a loser like that.

scarily in tune with you. satoru is a lot more emotionally intelligent than he likes to let on around others, but he picks up on a lot of things. both of you are at a function and he can take one look at you and know that it's time to pack it up and go home.

is very sentimental about the things you give him/the things you two do together. before you started dating, satoru wasn't really one to collect tiny trinkets or keep ticket stubs because he thought they were just a waste of space. after you two got together, he started keeping virtually everything in a little box hidden in his closet. he realized that it's nice to give sentimental value to the little things, because then the memories associated with them live on in something physical.

he just... can't keep his hands to himself LOL. and like not even in a sexual manner either (sometimes), he just naturally gravitates towards you and is almost always touching you somehow— hand fiddling with your jewelry or hair, arm around your shoulder when you're sitting, arm around your waist when you're standing, playing footsies, whatever.

this man is painfully in love with you, and he makes it everyone's (mostly nanami's) problem. manages to bring you up in every single conversation with a lovesick grin on his face.

you will rarely ever hear satoru address you by your actual name. it will always be some variation of baby, babe, sweetheart, love, etc. uses snookums, cupcake, sweet cheeks, cinnamon sugar roll, my little sausage mcgriddle <3 on a rotating basis to annoy you

NSFW

you know those couples that just have this pent up sexual tension between them for no reason? like y’all could just be looking at each other but to everyone else it feels like you two are just eyefucking ​​😭 that’s you and gojo

no matter how long you guys have been together for, that spark between you just doesn't go away. people can see the immense physical attraction between you two.

is somewhat of an exhibitionist LMAO. he literally gets horny at the worst times and will drag you to the nearest supply closet, even if it means breaking the door in the process. who knows, maybe his real kink is vandalism

enjoys when you put up a bit of a fight/act like a brat. it makes putting you in your place so much sweeter.

very vocal— talking, moaning, whimpering. he sounds very pretty. he's extremely receptive to your touch so simply rubbing your hand along the bulge in his jeans has him moaning like a pornstar.

say it with me: satoru gojo is a pussy👏🏻pleaser👏🏻!

really likes going down on you. he thinks he could stay in between your thighs forever if you'd let him.

nasty. will cum inside you and clean it up with his tongue.

oscillates between wanting to overstimulate you and deny you. sometimes he does both. the way you get this hazy look in your eye and become so pliant, so needy for him gets him going.

he gets strangely possessive during sex. maybe it's a way for him to affirm that you really do love him and find him attractive.

"i'm the only one that can fuck you like this, right? make you feel this good?"

is a fan of snacks during aftercare LOL. you could have just had the most wild sex of your life, with the two of you panting as you lie in bed before satoru rolls over and opens his nightstand drawer and pulls out a pack of oreos before shoving one into your mouth

Some of these aren't even bf headcanons they're just how I think he'd be LMFAO

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Wild Nights || CL16 {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x songstress!reader Summary: You show your support for Charles and he shows his support for you. Warnings: 18+only, just Charles being himself WC: 2k

F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Epilogue

“Hurry up or you’re going to be late to your own show,” Bea urged as she tugged at your arm. “Come on, we have to go!”

You rose on your tiptoes and tried to look over the sea of people. “Just one more minute.”

“I gave you ten.”

You checked your phone again but there was no new message from Charles since his last update that he was just going to quickly shower. You had briefly seen him before the free practice, but other than a few quiet words in the back of Ferrari’s hospitality you hadn’t really spent any time with him since landing in Las Vegas. 

You had thought scheduling concerts in the same city would mean seeing more of Charles but nothing was ever quite that simple.

Sighing, you sent him a message apologising for leaving without a proper goodbye and reminded him not to wait up for you. It would be late by the time you finished the show and he needed an early night before his qualifying race, but hopefully you were able to find a few minutes together in the morning before he left.

The drive through the city was long with traffic congestion and you spent most of it checking your phone to the point that Bea leaned over and ripped it from your hands.

“Hey!” you growled as she tossed it into the front seat beside the chauffeur. “I was using that.”

“No, you were distracted by it.” She grabbed a bottle of champagne from the minifridge and popped the cork. “Here, bottoms up.”

“Classy,” you murmured as you took the bottle and drank straight from it.

“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes and took it back for a quick swig of her own. “At least I know it will get you to relax. Luckily your makeup has survived the day, there won’t be time to redo it.”

“There was a time when you said I didn’t need make up, is this you saying I’m getting ugly?”

“Pfft, bitch, please. If I thought you were ugly I would tell it to you straight, like a good friend. You’re beautiful and I’m jealous, I just thank god I have these,” she said as she grabbed her boobs for emphasis. “They kill my back, but they look damn good.”

“Forget your back, I heard they nearly killed Pierre,” you chuckled. “I think his fans would have a problem if you accidentally smothered him with those.”

“At least he would die happy and doing what he loved. Imagine that obituary.”

“I’d rather not.” Your nose wrinkled at the thought of any type of obituary for a racer, it was an all too real possibility you tried not to dwell on.

Bea agreed quietly with another drink from the bottle and cast her eyes out the window, taking in the bright lights of the strip. She nearly spit out her mouthful at the sight of an electronic billboard advertising the first Las Vegas F1 race. “Wow, they really got him again?”

You leaned over the seat and saw the ad of Charles decked out in a glittering jacket, elvis wig and pink feather boa as a deck of cards rained down. A laugh bubbled up as you took the bottle back and brought it up to your lips with a dopey smile. “He’s too sweet and trusting, a little gullible too.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” she joked as the car pulled into the service entrance of the MGM. and she took the half empty bottle away. “Can’t have you drunk on opening night.”

“Can I have my phone back?”

She reached through the front and grabbed it off the seat. “Fine, but no moping like a sad sap because we have to run.”

The door to the car opened to an entourage of people chiding you for the tardiness and you were hustled through the back channels of the building, stopping briefly in a room little larger than a closet to change outfits before you reached the backstage area.

“You have five minutes,” the head coordinator warned as Bea arrived with a cup of lemon, ginger and honey tea to help warm your vocal chords.

You thanked her as you sipped the hot drink and felt your phone vibrate with a notification as Scuderia Ferrari’s Instagram went live. ‘Music Challenge’ was the caption and you waved Bea over knowing they were always entertaining.

“Oh, I love this song,” Charles exclaimed as he nodded his head along.

“You say that every time,” Carlos complained.

“Kill Bill?”

“Correct!” The interviewer confirmed as Carlos groaned and fell back into the couch in defeat.

“How do you know that?”

“I listen to a lot of music.”

They both fell silent as the next song started and they both smashed their hands on their little bells.

“Flowers,” Carlos shouted. “Flowers, flowers, I got it first.”

“You got it loudest,” Charles disputed but the moment the next song started he was jumping up and pinging his bell in time. “Y/N, Love You Need!” He turned to Carlos and blew him a kiss. “It’s my song.”

“That’s not fair, I don’t have a song.”

“I’m sure someone has written a song about you, probably not a love song though,” Charles teased before he checked his watch. “Ay, I need to go or the next song she writes about me won’t be happy either. Ciao!”

“He quit so I win, right?”

“No, no, no I didn’t quit.” Charles paused his exit to point an accusing finger back at his teammate. “You took so long fixing your hair that we started late.”

“Still, I win, because you’re leaving.”

“See this,” Charles turned to the camera, his hand still waving to his team mate, “he doesn’t care about winning, he’s just upset he wasn’t invited to Y/N’s concert. Carlos?”

Carlos batted his eyelashes with a smile. “Yes, Charles?”

“Would you like to come with me?”

Carlos was already on his feet. “I thought you would never ask.”

Charles rolled his eyes but couldn’t help laughing. “Vamos, we’re late.”

You turned to Bea as the live feed ended and you shoved your phone into the storage cupboard beside the stairs leading to the stage. “Did you know he was coming?”

“Duh, who do you think set him up with a backstage pass?” She shrugged and put her own phone away along with her jacket. “I gave him a few in case he wanted to bring some friends.”

You cocked an eyebrow and smirked. “You mean Pierre…”

“I mean friends, and if that happens to be Pierre then I have no problem with that.”

You didn’t have an opportunity to tease her further about the commitment issues the two of them had before a microphone was shoved into your hands and you were pointed to the stage entrance.

“Kill it babe!” Bae shouted with a thumbs up as she jogged around to the other stage entrance for her cue.

The sold out crowd was a swirling mass of energy and it swelled as you stepped into the spotlight, their screams barely blocked by the earpieces that you had pushed into your ears as you took the stairs. The rush of seeing the excitement on their faces never ceased to amaze you and you bounced on your toes eagerly.

“What’s up, Las Vegas? Are you doing alright tonight?” Their responding screams shook the stage and widened your grin. “That’s good to hear, because, for me, well, I’m Fine.”

The music started and remembered the day you started writing the song, taking off from Monaco. It had begun as a tribute to Bea and the friendship you shared but then as the weeks went by and Charles stayed in touch it had evolved. It really was a song for any sort of relationship and why it was one of your favourites after Love You Need.

“Woke up too early, Almost put salt in my coffee, Oh, I thank God that you stopped me before that.”

You grinned to the shadows where you knew Bea was waiting, having been the inspiration for the line.

“Tripped over something, Spilt it all over your front seat, Didn't even say I'm sorry about that.”

You had been so frazzled trying to clean the mess up in Charles’ ridiculously expensive car that you had forgotten to apologise at the time. You had made it up to him later, and luckily it hadn’t stained, probably credit to the expensive upholstery.

“On and on, it's just more of the same And even when you ask if I'm okay… I try to say I'm fine (I'm fine).”

The drummer came in with the heavy beat for the chorus and the hands in the crowd waved in time as Bea jumped into the spotlight for her parts. This was what made it a favourite of yours, when she grasped your hand like she had when you had broken down over your ex. She had called you on your bullshit when you said you were fine and she had been there through the worst. It made performing this with her even more special. 

The entire concert was going to be even more special knowing Charles was going to be in the crowd soon and he knew exactly which songs were devoted to him. 

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was coming because he balanced you, and everything was equal between you. You supported him in his races whenever you could make it to them and he supported you when he could make it to yours, but you knew how tired he would have been after his day. 

There were thousands of people beyond the blindly bright lights of the stage but somehow you knew where to look when you felt the energy shift halfway into the set. And there he was. 

He must have changed in the car as he was no longer wearing the bold red Ferrari shirt, opting for more sedate casual clothes to blend in with the crowd. It didn’t exactly stay that way when you pointed to him during one of his songs, singing the lines solely for him and drawing the attention to him.

“Can we stay frozen in time, in between hello and goodbye?”

You collapsed onto the bed of the hotel still riding the high from the concert and Charles fell down with you, equal parts of happiness and exhaustion warring in his eyes.

“You should get some sleep,” you said as you rolled onto your side to face him so you could cup his cheek, your thumb brushing over the 5 o’clock shadow along his jaw. 

“I will soon,” he murmured as his arm curled over your waist and pulled you closer. “I just want to hold you for a little while.” He tucked you into the curve of his body until there wasn’t any space left between you, his cheek resting atop your head. “You make me so proud, seeing you living your dream. I wish I could be at every concert.”

“Me too,” you sighed longingly. “It’s the hardest thing when we have to say goodbye.”

His chest rose and fell slowly as he relaxed in the embrace, bordering on the edge of sleep. “You’ve never asked me not to race.”

“Why would I do that?” You pulled back to see his face and recognised the look. It was something his ex had asked of him. “Would the moon ask the sun not to rise? No, because both are equally important and their paths still cross. We are the sun and the moon.”

You felt his smile as he kissed your forehead. “Am I the moon or the sun?” 

“The moon,” you stated as you tipped your head back so you could stare into those gorgeous eyes if his. “You are there to lighten my darkest nights.”

“And you make my day infinitely brighter.”

Click here for the epilogue.

Tagging: @91vhs @alwaysclassyeagle @applespiez @ravenqueen27 @booksobsess @tempo-rary-fix @baw-sixteen @im-an-overthinker @notleclerc

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day Nine

Here’s the thing. Like, on one hand, Paul loves teaching. But on the other hand, I honestly think he’d be a terrible teacher. He’s genuinely trying to explain songwriting to this kid, and all I’m getting is that I should be able to just look at a piano and it’ll give me whatever I want. “So it’s really just . . .” *plays Martha My Dear* “. . . and from there, you know, like, um, there’s no – unless you stop yourself – there’s no stopping yourself.” Yes, thank you, Professor McCartney. Very informative. Good thing you’re a gorgeous genius because not a word of that lecture made any sense. 

Seriously I am BEGging someone to write Paul and Ringo in the 20s as a cabaret duo! With Paul’s talents being songwriting, slutting it up, piano, and vocals and Ringo’s talents being tap-dancing, ventriloquist dummy impersonation, with the occasional piano, vocals, and sly winks. Maybe they meet George and John through organized crime, idk.

“They don’t just sort of come in your head, kind of thing?” “Yeah, sure. Fact, I had one this morning.” You know. As one does.

See, even Ringo’s on board with my plan. “Let’s make a silent movie.” And Paul. “In a club. That’s it. We’re in a band. We’re in a band, but we sell drugs.” And now they're stringing Paul up just for kicks. Maybe they could join the circus!

Literally the minute John starts being silly, Paul gets this fond look on his face and you can see the wheels turning like “quick, think of a way to get close to him.” And John’s into it. But they keep doing this seesaw thing and I can’t help but think how reminiscent it is of their dynamic as a whole. 

“I see you’ve given up smoking, Richie.” “Yes, I have.” Reminds me of that classic, “I don’t even smoke,” thing. Seems like five-hundred years ago.

PLEASE tell me Peter Sellers and Ringo had a torrid love affair during the filming of The Magic Christian. The way Peter touches Ringo’s hair and his face! Ringo being a gentleman and getting Peter a chair! And I mean there’s plenty of queer coding between them in the film.  

But also laughing my ass off at Peter’s reaction to their song-titles/lyrics/gibberish/other references code.

Yoko, you’re stone-cold and hilarious. “Or what we haven’t.” I honestly have mad respect for her complete disregard/disdain for the Beatles and their art only because that’s how they treat hers for the most part. But girl. You’re married to one of them. He genuinely does love them and what he does with them and you’ve got to respect that or go find someone else, you know?

Also, Paul does Not appreciate the attitude. “Or we’ll just sort of sit here and allow ourselves to be embarrassed. ‘Number nine . . .”

Aaand, just like that, Peter Sellers “must be off.” He lasted all of 1 minute 26 seconds. Weak. George and Ringo lasted fifteen years. 

MLH is literally that annoying person that asks you a serious question about yourself just so he can use you as a segue to talk about his problems.

John: just recovering from the day, you know. Yoko: from the night. John: embarrassed (you have no right, dude, you literally played your sex tape for everyone like two weeks ago) Paul: Did not want that image, thanks very much. 

It actually KILLS me though that we’ll never understand their code. Paul and Ringo will take it to their graves and no one else knows it and any footage like this we’ve got, and any code songs, will just be mostly uninterpretable for all time. 

Okay these few minutes here are soooo special to me. It’s John at his peak lovely, sweet, gentle, kind self. He makes a joke at which Paul can only nod darkly which makes John realize just how bad of a place Paul’s in. 

Paul wants them to get to work “achieve something every day.” But John knows he’s not in a good headspace to work and it’ll be shit and then Paul will spiral even more. So, he turns up the humor until Paul is sufficiently cheered. 

And then, he says. “Guitars? I thought that’s what they do.” And Paul’s stammering. “Oh, that is what they do, but–” John stands up, does a little head-tilt toward the instruments. “Come on, I’ll even show you about half a song I was writing. Come on.” That last in the tenderest, most coaxing voice. It’s just soooo. Like. We talk a lot about Paul ‘handling’ John, and he did. But John sure knows how to handle Paul.

I SO wish they’d have done something with “Madman”. It’s so fun!! Every single song in this era I will go to bat for, no question. 

Ringo’s little hug for Paul!!!! I can’t.

[restinslices]

If it's alright with you, can you write the lin kuei trio with a s/o, who is a detective tracking down a serial killer who is going to target s/o and the lin kuei trio's reaction to it.

I can confidently say I have never gotten a request like this

Handle it or he's handling it 

It's as simple as that 

Did Bi-Han let his own father die? Yes. But for whatever reason he didn't fuck with him 

I'm assuming he fucks with you though, so the thought of someone hunting you down is not something he's very fond of 

I don't think he'd have any strong feelings about you being a detective. Not everyone can be out and about fighting people from other realms. Some people gotta do some protective work for the smaller people 

So you being a detective is whatever to him

When you say you're hunting down a serial killer, I don't think he'd have any strong emotions either. He just assumes you'll catch them soon. His faith is pretty high 

When it's revealed the serial killer is hunting you, that obviously becomes a big problem 

A problem he has to solve 

If you're like “No Bi-Han! I got it! Let me find them and end this!” he'll consider giving you a set amount of time before he handles it 

Doesn't know how he's gonna track this unknown person down but his faith in himself is stupidly high 

If you find them and lock whoever up then great for you 

If the agreed time passes and they're still on the loose, he becomes Batman. Get out the way. He got it 

No point in protesting either. Just sit at home and let him figure it out 

He becomes the annoying boss in police movies. Y'all know what I mean 

Definitely finds the person eventually and finishes the job for you 

Hooray?

Honestly I think all the brothers are a “handle it or I'll handle it” case 

Thoughts on you being a detective are positive. I think he can see how difficult that certain job would be 

He's fighting with his fists. You're using your brain. You're both helping people. 

He admires it lowkey 

You're hunting down a serial killer now? Ok. Be safe-

What do you mean you're a target now?

He kinda saw it coming but it's still unfortunate 

He'd understand still wanting to lead this case and he applauds standing your ground, but he's also worried because ya know, you could be killed 

He'd try to assist but at some point he would really want you to let someone else handle it 

By someone else, he means him 

He's a trained assassin. He can probably hunt this guy faster than you can 

Has more patience than Bi-Han but if a lot of time passes and they're not handled, then he'll step in 

He probably would've warned you beforehand that this was something that would happen but as we can see, you either didn't listen or still slipped up 

It's not that he thinks you can't handle it… kinda. 

You're just not moving quick enough 

I think he’d be nice enough to remind you he has faith in you but would vocalize his concerns when it comes to you still working on this case 

Whether or not you decide to drop it is up to you, but he’s definitely not 

Thoughts on you being a detective I think are also positive

He thinks you're doing a good thing

The Lin Kuei can't help everyone. They do more bigger things 

So you helping civilians is great to him. It's a good cause 

I think he'd also enjoy hearing about your cases and chiming in whenever 

Hunting down a serial killer? Well, he guesses someone has to do it 

He'd be confident enough in your abilities to catch this person 

But then you're the next target

I think honestly all the brothers would have a similar reaction. So much so, I don't think there'd be much of a change. I probably could've written this in one paragraph 

He could possibility be the most cooperative when it comes to letting you handle it

Gives you the most time to figure it out and tries to help out as a partner 

Doesn’t wanna step on your toes but if you’re taking too long, he’s gonna do his own investigating 

Probably asks Kuai Liang for assistance 

I’m not saying any of them would find this person in days time, but they certainly believe they will 

Worried about your safety as you could imagine, so he wants you to sit this one out 

He’s probably conflicted, like what I said with Kuai Liang. One part is like “yeah, you gotta find this person!” And the other is like “you need to sit down so you’ll be safe”

Probably prefers for you to do all your investigating at home. Any leads you have you’ll either follow together, he’ll follow it, or someone else will 

I think all the brothers will want to help as much as they could and would wanna handle this serial killer. And by handle, I don’t mean letting them go to prison. You can get out of that if you play your cards right 

The only real difference is how much they let you help after they find out you’re a target 

Bi-Han is like “I gave you time. You’re done. I got it”. Kuai Liang is “I knew this would happen and I know you wanna stand your ground, but maybe take a step down” and Tomas is “I get it so let me help”

This is kinda boo boo. Also I hate their little moodboards I made. It’s sickening

[this-lovely-universe]

The M Saga: This Story starts at 3am

M was slowly losing it.

It was never easy trying to work through your trauma, we all know this, but it was especially hard when you couldn’t even open up to people about.

She was so familar with the way her chest would tighten, and the feeling of her heart racing in her chest. It was never less frighten, no matter how often it happened. In reality, it made it more terrifying cause she was on her own.

Sure, she could get help to calm down but she couldn’t tell anyone what triggered her. Everytime she tried, my vocal cord was stop working.

She kept getting triggered again and again, without anyway of being able to stop it from happening. She couldn’t couldn’t work through it, she couldn’t tell anyone about it.

She felt hopeless.

These moments were what cause her mind to wander to the same dark places it did when she was stuck in that rancid place.

She wanted to get better, she really did, but how could she?

Unless some magically being came and rid her of this curse or whatever had cause this, she was stuck. And it was horrifying.

She was laid on the Hermes cabin floor, wrapped in her sleeping bag.

She couldn’t sleep. Not unusual at all. She had the world’s least ideal sleeping schedule.

Her mind was always too busy to sleep. Having a million thoughts at once, going over the day, planning for tomorrow, going to older memories, good and bad alike.

It wasn’t fun, in the slightest, but she had gotten used to it by now.

She stared into space, thinking about how exactly the universe never ended. Seriously? How can something not have an end? Is it like a circle? Would you just loop around or something?

She was rudely interrupted by her thoughts, with a bright light hovering above her head.

“Jesus…” She muttered, shielding her eyes from the blinding orb.

Groans filled the cabin.

“I thought you said lights out, Travis…”

“Bro, turn that shit off, I’m trying to sleep….”

“I just fell asleep, man…”

“Why isn’t going away…”

“Cause someone just got claimed, you dipshit-”

M shot up, the orb following her. Well, looks like it was time.

She glanced up, to see a full moon hovering above her head.

She felt like crying, maybe even throwing up.

The very thing that cause her the most physical pain in her daily life, the thing that completely uprooted her life and controlled her like a puppet, was her mother’s domain.

“You’ve got be kidding me.” She deadpanned.

“Oh, shit.”

“Selene?”

“Yeah, Artemis doesn’t exactly have kids.”

“Good point. That would be a true plot twist, now.”

“Why are you treating this like a fanfiction?”

“I mean-”

More kids continued to wake up.

“Turn it off…”

“I would if I could.” She snapped.

“Jeez, what’s your problem?”

She resisited the snippy comment on the tip of her tounge. “Sorry.”

The moon started to fade, the room becoming submerged in darkness once more.

“Finally…”

M just defeated sighed, laying down again. This felt like a cruel joke.

But it wasn’t. It was just her life, shitshow and all.

YOOOO WE HAVE ANOTHER ARCH STARTING

we're ignoring that's it's lowkey bad writing, I started it whilst in a writer's block

also I hope you like lesbian angst cause there's gonna be a lot here on out

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @debacleofdaemons

@this-rose-has-thornes @ithacas-prince @daonedaonlysk @hispanic-child-of-hermes @i-was-never-sane

@gaygirldoodles @smileyalater @if-i-could-cry-i-wouldnt @hellincarnation @your-favorite-mess

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

[sportswriters]

so obvious - j. kotkaniemi

pairing: jesperi kotkaniemi x female!reader | a, f | situationship to lovers | wc: 1.4k | warnings: emotional constipation, kind of idiots to lovers, reader is not a blonde white skinny wag (i’m sorry y’all keep scrolling if you mind it), mentions of sex

“y/n, of course i like you. what kind of question is that?”

after a night out, you got back to your apartment with jesperi. you locked in your pain as much as you could to at least try to enjoy hanging out with his teammates. they were cool, this is not about them, far from it. the guys were fun, and so were their wives and girlfriends. that’s what triggered you the most, why would jesperi invite you to a place where everyone had their significant other? something was not clicking.

“then why are you scared of dating me?”

“dating? is it not obvious that's exactly what we're doing? we spend a lot of time together, i don't get your point.”

you were shocked he could be so oblivious. you weren’t used to showing your feelings very often, being insecure for things that happened in the past that made you prioritize being vocal. jesperi was aware of how you felt about this whole situationship, which worked, but his mixed signals were making you mad.

jesperi was the complete opposite. he’s affectionate, he’s touchy, but these actions turned his communication little to none. his idea of friends with benefits has shown to be more like a relationship without the title. what’s the difference between what you have and what his friends have with their significant other? 

“my point is that whatever we have only works when we're alone. it's been three months, jesperi, three months and just today you introduced me as a friend to your teammates. i could be literally any other girl.”

“don't say that. you know it's not true.” he dared to be offended.

“do i? do i, really? because i need words, i need sentences that speak louder than your actions. you touch me like i'm the only one that matters, then you go out there and act like i'm just anyone. you touch me, jesperi… you touch me like you love me, but i know you don't. in fact, just as you said, it should be obvious by now, right?”

“y/n, i… i don’t know if i can give you what you want. i thought it was enough.”

“don't you dare say that to me. you don't get to lock yourself in your own head and then tell me i’m asking for too much. your damn toothbrush is in my bathroom right now, jesperi! why would i give you small spaces around my place if i didn't mean it?”

he didn't fight back. he stood there, looking everywhere but at you.

“i'm sorry if i ended up falling for a made up version of you. but i'm serious when i say that i don't want to be with someone who's not ready to be as committed as i am,” you said, doing your best to not let your voice waver. “i’m going out for a while, i need you to pack up your stuff and go. you know where to leave your key.”

you changed your boots for a pair of more comfortable shoes and grabbed your purse again. not a word from him, still. you bit your lip and shook your head in disappointment, going for the door. but as soon as you got there, jesperi softly called your name.

“yeah?”

“just… be safe, okay?”

you frowned, but nodded your head anyways, trying to fight the urge to argue again. the urge to beg him to make you stay. he didn't.

“i'll try.”

***

after pondering for half an hour, jesperi couldn't handle the silence. he couldn't handle the emptiness of that apartment without you — the safe space you let him join, just for him to ruin everything. so he called seth, well aware what reaction he would get for reaching out so late.

“are you fucking kidding me, kk? it's two in the morning.”

“y/n left. we had a situation.”

“y/n? oh, your wife?”

“she's not my wife, well, guess that was the problem.”

“wait, what the hell is going on?”

“she got disappointed because i introduced her as a friend to you guys earlier.”

“you know that no one believed that for a second, right? you were obviously in love out there.”

“what?”

“kk, it's two a.m., i don't know if i didn't tell you already.” seth sighed. “are you for real? you let her go because you can't commit?”

jesperi went silent.

“shit. you are stupid. just… just call her, alright? man up a little, don't lose something special just for the sake of being dumb.”

“yeah, i guess i really messed up.”

“you guess? jesperi, do you love y/n?”

“i do. so much. damn, i love her for real.”

“then go get her and let me fucking sleep! i have practice tomorrow, do not wake me up again, loser.”

then he hung up, leaving jesperi alone with his own epiphany.

***

when you returned home, jesperi was sleeping on your side of the bed. he looked like he just fell asleep, which was weird for two reasons: the sun was already up and you realized you knew him well enough to notice his breathing pattern. jesperi didn’t look relaxed at all.

you took your time in the shower, wondering what to say when the dreaded conversation arised. you loved that man, you knew he was being dumb. seth gave you the confirmation a few hours ago with the text: “that dumbass thinks he’s fooling someone. don’t believe any situationship shit talk he tries to pull up. kk loves you, it’s fucking obvious.”

you found him properly seated when you got back. he had these puppy eyes staring at you, biting his lips like it’s the only thing that could save him. oh, you wanted to hear what he had to say. it was funny, to be honest. he looked lost a few hours without you after the final word.

“hi.”

“hi, sorry i woke you up.”

“it’s alright, wasn’t really sleeping. just realized i sleep better when i’m with you.” he gulped.

you rolled your eyes, trying to hold a smile.

“yeah? realized anything else while i was gone?”

jesperi patted the bed, silently asking you to come closer.

“i thought you knew i loved you all this time,” he said in such a forward way that made you stop abruptly, still standing near the bed. “what? is it such a surprise?”

“no, it’s just weird to hear you say it.”

“what do you mean? are you cringing with the fact that this dumbass right here loves you so much?”

“alright, alright. keep going!” you couldn’t help but laugh.

as soon as you got closer, you reached for his hand, sending a green light for him to get comfortable. jesperi clearly took a deep breath after feeling your warmth again.

“i don’t believe we started it wrong, but i guess we should’ve updated some stuff sooner,” he ponders. “i panicked for whatever reason, i don’t know, i don’t want to be a bad memory for you.”

“i get it. that’s why i value being vocal… i need us to be on the same page so things like these don’t happen again.”

“of course i love you, of course i want to show you off. look—”

he was about to hold your waist, then stopped.

“go on, baby.” you laid back, bringing him down with you. he seemed to be going through it without touching you properly.

he hovered over you, holding his weight to look over your face. he trailed kisses from your jaw to your neck while his left hand caressed your waist softly.

“how gorgeous, how clever, how fucking hot you are. sorry for being stupid enough to not be vocal about how amazing it is to be with you. how amazing it is to be your man.”

you lifted one of your hands to cup his face, loving every second of this.

“i love you too. jarvy was right though, you can’t fool anyone.”

jesperi threw his head back with a frustrated groan, “oh, do not mention this loser when i’m so vulnerable and so close to fucking you, please! such a turn off!”

he tried to back up, but you went along, now being the one on top.

“you were the loser for a few hours, so there’s a lot to make up for.” you grinned.

“a lot?”

“can’t take it?”

he watched you for a second, something twitching in his eyes. his hold tightened around you.

“spicy. guess it’s that time of the day where i make you forget your own words, right?”

[writing-for-life]

Considering this is a site where so many people have aspirations to become professional authors or artists, I think it’s really astounding that many (often the same) people encourage book piracy. And by that I mean: They don’t just do it behind closed doors (whatever, do what you have to do and keep it to yourself)—they actually package it as some act of immeasurable kindness in the name of “social justice”. And I’d say: If you’re not a professional author and have no experience in or with publishing, hence don’t really understand what it means to make your living as a writer, maybe just… don’t? And if you ever want to sell your books, maybe also just… don’t?

It’s not some cool subversive thing in the name of social justice you’re doing. You’re really hurting authors with it, and it’s in no way comparable to “fighting the big bad streamers.”

Yes, Neil Gaiman will be okay, but if you’re saying it’s okay to do it to him, you’re also saying by extension it’s okay to do it to lesser known authors. And those authors make up the vast (and I mean vast!) majority of authors. But maybe you’re one of those people who think that all artists are minted and picture them in La La Land, entirely possible. If that’s the case, maybe educate yourself what the median income of authors is, be very surprised and wake up. Sometimes, it really helps to think before hitting post. And if rants are not your thing, this is the exit sign because I’m not going to mince my words…

Here are a couple of really good comments from *that* post that people should maybe inwardly digest before they prioritise being oh-so-understanding and supportive of every Tom, Dick & Harry who “can’t afford the book” via piracy (how about buying them one instead if you care so much. No? Thought so) over supporting authors, artists and, yes, libraries:

(Re the last comment: Or use online libraries—they’re also free. That was also part of above post btw. Libby, Hoopla etc exist for a reason.)

If that’s all too hard, then let’s at least stop pretending on here that we care about supporting authors and artists while vocally supporting book piracy. Because really, it’s the same in all arts, even if the symptoms are slightly different—take it from one who is both a published author and used to be a stage performer.

And to say it quite frankly: These “ideas” are probably held by the same people who were tearfully blabbering about the arts being what kept them going during the pandemic and then forgot about it all when lockdown was over. Or maybe they are the same people who think that art is a “jolly pastime”, and that everyone should just be content to “do it for the love of it and give their art away for free because awwwww, so amazing, here, buy food with my exposure bucks.” Go on then, write and consume fanfics and create fanart, problem solved. Just don’t ever ask for the pro art that inspires it again. Ah no, I forgot, it’s all made for money and soulless anyway, innit? Why oh why then do you want to consume and pirate it though?

You’re not progressive and/or supportive of artists. You just have no clue how making a living in the arts works and think your comfort (= “I have to have all the things even if I can’t afford them”) matters more than someone’s livelihood (namely that of the people who devoted their lives to creating that art for you), and it really shows.

I don’t care about anyone’s Google history and even said so several times on here when people asked (this is the latest one, and yes, I see the people who had a “reaction” to this one or the reblog above, but I bet that’s “coincidence”). Do whatever you want to do, it’s your choice, keep it to yourself. But stop pretending that piracy means “caring about the noble cause”, because repackaging entitlement as social activism is performative crap…

[kindheart525]

how did Charlie handle being a father in the earlier stages.

For this I’m going to start with before he was a father! It was really rough at first

Dottie was an unplanned pregnancy and Charlie felt completely unprepared leading up to her birth. Before this point he was kind of just taking things a day at a time, doing his job and then whatever he wanted in between, but now he was about to have a new responsibility thrust upon him. Whether or not he wanted to be a father was not something he had really thought about, but now he had to make the decision quickly. Zoey wanted to keep the baby and Charlie knew deep down that he would forever kick himself if he didn’t step up just as much. It wasn’t what his God would want him to do but he also didn’t want to know himself as a coward. Even though the uncertainty of it all was fucking terrifying.

But he wasn’t alone in that feeling.

Of course Zoey, as the one actually carrying the baby, would have feelings about it. She was just as unprepared as Charlie was. I imagine she told Charlie that he didn’t have to stay but secretly hoped he would. He has a mind of his own and doesn’t seem to let anything get in the way of doing what he wants, and she anticipated that he would decide he wasn’t ready just as he sometimes decided his work missions were too much to handle. She would have been so disappointed in him if it came to that but she would have understood.

But he stayed. He didn’t want to be a disappointment for something as big as this. It was different from work and he knew there were times he could have tried harder there as well. And they both found comfort in knowing the other was scared too. Neither of them knew what they were doing but somehow, there was this understanding that they could figure it out as a team. They were in it together, plus they both had friends who they could count on to help. This period of uncertainty brought Charlie and Zoey closer together as it helped them get to know each other on a deeper level than the casual dating situation they had before. The bond they formed then is why Dottie still has two loving and present parents today.

And it was all worth it in the end 💛

“I might actually cry. If I cry, you guys need to look away.”

All of Charlie’s worries melted away once he saw his newborn daughter and realized what it was all worth. What he would have missed if he had let his fear get the better of him. He lived in a stressful and crazy world but one thing that was certain was his duty to this tiny, fragile life he had a part in making. This little critter that he swore to protect and nurture, so help him God. Even when it meant making lifestyle changes.

Charlie made himself cut way back on drinking leading up to Dottie’s birth, but once she was actually here he decided he needed to cut it out altogether. He loved her so much and he didn’t want to even remotely risk letting her see that ugly side of him that everyone else in his life had had to put up with. He couldn’t be a disappointment to Zoey, to his friends, to his God, and especially to Dottie. If he kept up his bad habits he’d be failing himself too. It had to stop.

Other than that, parenting was actually a lot easier than Charlie thought it would be. He had to feed Dottie and change diapers and take care of Zoey postpartum and all of that, which he was very willing to do, but Dottie herself was a very chill baby. She hardly cried at all; her calls for food and attention were just calm vocalizations instead of distressed wails. While she had no problem developing her own interests as she grew, she was (and is) very adaptable to whatever her parents wanted to do which made it easy for them to continue their hobbies

Charlie probably shouldn’t be playing those games in front of a baby lol, but that’s how he is as a parent. He speaks to his daughter (and later other children in his life) like an adult because that’s what all kids will be eventually anyway. He thinks the whole “goo goo ga ga” thing is an insult to their intelligence and especially his own, so he doesn’t bother with that. It did help Dottie be able to express herself clearly very early in life, including to tell Charlie she actually didn’t care for Rust that much. Ouch! But she also had the vocabulary to say she enjoyed spending time with her dad anyway, which makes it all worth it

[landoom]

(I’m the anon who brought up people not liking Oscar for off track stuff)

Yeah, I agree with all of that, I think. I try really hard to check my biases while also reserving my right to have an opinion. And just to clarify- I absolutely don’t think Oscar is nearly as much of an asshole as some drivers! It’s just his particular brand of PR that irks me… and some other things… anyways, not your problem. lol

I may not like Oscar much, not hate, and I actually feel kinda bad about not liking him, but I’m not out shouting hate against him for unfair reasons.

That’s the thing, right? We don’t have to agree, but it’s not cool to spread hate or wish ill upon someone for being a bit of a dick as a racing driver, on or off.

But to be fair, a lot of blogs are a “what you see is what you get” so we can block each other. And people should be allowed to vent… hmm.

McLaren has handled things poorly (race strategy and PR) in my opinion, and so many fans are vocally toxic that it exacerbates every tiny thing.

Some Hardcore Lando fans (kinda somewhat myself included) are so used to him being attacked for anything and everything he does that we’re super defensive of him, sometimes in unhealthy ways. Lando gets A LOT of hate. Way more than Oscar has. Way more. I always have to give myself a day after a race to let my emotions cool down. Just like some of the drivers have to! 😂😛 But I am very defensive of Lando, sometimes to my own detriment, I get so angry at people. I recognize that.

And McLaren has done exactly nothing to defend him, which I find distasteful.

Anyways, this turned into a tangent. 🤦‍♀️ I am so sorry. Ahhhh

(I’m so glad you didn’t take that ask poorly and it came across how I meant it, I do appreciate that we can have a calm discussion without either of us trying to change the others opinion ❤️)

Once again I agree with mostly everything.

Just the part about being able to block Tumblr means people can vent here... Yes but then they need to tag accordingly.

If you really want to hate on a driver, then tag it. That means realising you're perhaps going over the limit and that your words can be read as disrespectful or hurtful.

Because there is something I really despise in this fandom at the moment and on social media in general: how hate is becoming accepted, seen as normal or even glorified (through likes and views, etc...). It shouldn't! People should feel ashamed of hating or wishing harm to other people, especially ones who they don't even know, that aren't hurting them in any way! You can have an outburst brought out by your passion for F1 and adrenalin and acknowledge (like your doing) that you went over the limit. But some people are creating their whole online persona over being a hater!

Also, as a Lando fan too, I can completely understand the part about Lando being hated for nothing or never doing the "right" thing whatever he does. And I agree it makes us a bit defensive.

But we won't fight hate with hate! Some Lando fans are treating Oscar exactly like they are complaining other people treat Lando! I'm sorry but I can't understand that...

[cherry-pop-elf]

Weasley siblings reacting to you self harming

Trigger Warning out the wazu for this. Self Harm/Suicidal Ideations/Grief/Trauma/Abuse/Vent/Its gonna be a heavy one. It’s under the cut, so you don’t have to see it. Stay safe, you are loved, and I’m here for you. Sending you hugs

William ‘Bill’

To say he didn’t have a few would be a lie. He never actively does it, he just has a job that forces you into a very dark mental space sometimes. It’s the burden to a curse breaker. Sure didn’t help when he was attacked either. Don’t get him started on being the eldest sibling to six siblings. This means he’s often very vocal about mental health. Taking vacations to focus on it, and even being very active with therapy. So when he learns you have such tendencies, it breaks his heart. It hurts to know you feel such pain, and he will try and help any way he can. He would never shame you. He understands you don’t do it because you want to. The brain is just trying so hard to process something so complex. He will make sure your wounds are clean, and they don’t get infected. He would listen to whatever is burdening you, and hold you tightly. He’s going to help you through this. He understands that it’s not an easy fix. That maybe it can never be fixed. But that won’t stop him from trying to help. You won’t be trapped in the darkness alone. Your service werewolf will be there to scare off the rain clouds.

Charlie

He’s caught by surprised, but self harm isn’t just cutting. He’s learned that. He’s often throwing himself into very dangerous situations. Self harm just means you are self destructive. He’s very much so, but no one ever says anything because he’s a man. And men just do stupid things. So he can understand people not taking your problems seriously. It’s a rather delicate subject, and he will go to Bill for advice. Since he’s the guy who has to have good mental health. Maybe that can help him to. You two can help each other. He can help you when your thoughts get too dark, and you can make sure he actually thinks through his actions. You both can be each other’s rocks. Keep each other grounded, when things get too much. To make sure that there is someone waiting for you on the other side. The dark moments are scary, but he’s always ready to carry a torch to find you in it.

Percy

He’s stunned. He never thought you would do that, and that’s when it dawns on him that he thought like that about his older brothers. He never thought they could do such a thing, but yet they have. Even George. That is his wake up call. He’s finally putting down the books, and learning there is more to life than just climbing the corporate ladder. The most important people in his life were in so much pain, and they just remain so silent on it. Afraid of what others think. He can’t help but wonder if he’s even pushed his siblings to such. It shatters him. He tries his best to be a more open person now. To be there for you more, and learn to try and keep work at the office. That the moment he gets home, he’s off the clock. He can’t keep pushing people away anymore. It’s tearing people apart. You included. He has a lot of growing to do, but he’s trying. He’s trying to be better, and that helps shine some hope in your darkness. He may not understand it, but he knows what you are dealing with is real. There’s hope in your rain clouds again.

Fred

As an owner to a joke shop, you see a lot of class clowns coming inside to cope. He himself was no exception. Molly was doing her best, but all that yelling and degrading is going to get to you. Especially in such a big family of seven siblings. Things will happen. He never cut himself, but he’s definitely done stupid things he knew could kill him. He just did them anyway, in his darker moments. Seeing a win/win scenario. He thought those were normal, since George had them to. So he doesn’t get started when he learns. When you explain to him it’s not normal, it’s now a whole other story. It’s a lot to take in, but he’s a Weasley. He’s going to handle it. He’s a big brother. He has to, and that’s when you help him understand that he can be softer to. You both find comfort in each other. You are able to let him be vulnerable. And knowing he knows your pain gives you a morbid feeling a calm. That even people like him can feel this way too. It’s a long road ahead, but he’s going to keep trying to make you smile. No matter what

George

He’s made attempts to his life. More than once. Even at The Battle Of Hogwarts, he tried to. Once the shock of Fred’s death faded, he had to be held back from joining him. He’s tried so hard to keep going, but his soul is broken beyond repair. He’s cut himself, drank, anything to deal with the pain. How he’s still alive, he doesn’t know. He calls it a curse, but you suspect that Fred is the one who makes sure every attempt fails. That the rope always snaps, that whatever he drinks is the wrong bottle, that even his own wand back fires. Fred won’t let his baby brother die, and neither will you. There’s a morbid joy to the fact you are in a similar state. You are able to use what you know to help him process. To show him that it’s going to be ok. In a weird way, it’s healing to you. You are able to be the voice to someone else’s darkness. To guide them out of it. You are able to do the thing you wished people did for you. And George does. You will hold on to each other, and remind each other it’ll be ok. That George is allowed to scream and cry. That he’s allowed to be sad, and not happy all the time. You will clean his wounds, as he cleans yours. You’ll be ok. You’ll both be ok.

Ron

Harry has done the same, given the Dursleys. It was scary for him, to see an eleven year old with such a thing. But it helped him with his empathy and sympathy. He would go to Harry for advice, when he learns you do the same. Wanting to make sure he says the right things, and do what helps you the most. Soon you would not only have Ron helping you, but Hermione and Harry as well. At first, you were pissed that Ron told other people. But it quickly faded, because you knew he was just trying to help. The fact he was trying to help, compared to keeping it quiet, does comfort you. He didn’t brush it under the rug. There was a problem, and he went to go get help the second he could. You weren’t left behind. You would be ok. He was on top of it, and you cried because of it. The good cry. A cry you didn’t know you needed. Not only did you have Ron, you had Harry and Hermione as well. With their own scars, and stories, and warm arms to hug you close. You won’t face the darkness alone. You had a bundle of friends to save you. They would save you every time, and it gave you the strength to face that darkness. You won’t be alone. Not anymore

Ginny

She lost track how many people, during her sixth year at Hogwarts, did she see do such. Even taking their own lives, given what was happening at the time. She even has a few of her own, given her history with the diary. Every time she feels herself get to angry, she does it. Something in the back of her head tells her to do it. As if a part of Tom Riddle was still inside of her. Wanting to break free. What scared her the most was that feeling didn’t go away when Voldemort died. Knowing you have those dark thoughts makes her feel like there was some kind of red string of fate. That her trauma lead to something useful. That the fact she stayed so strong was to help others. She is able to help you with what she knows. Show her that even a kind and sweet girl like her can feel those morbid feelings. You two would hold each other, whenever those feelings got rough. Finding alternatives, like working out and doing what you can to handle it. It’s scary, but she is quick to drag you into her family. To have this massive audience to help you grow. You aren’t in the darkness. You are here with this bright red light, and she’s going to fist fight those evil thoughts away. She swears to you, and you know she will keep her promise. Weasleys always do