#and it impacted race results

[charles-leclerc-official]

mclaren needs to liquidate i am so serious i cannot stand them winning even a single race its so much worse than the redbull and mercedes domination ever was like you have this disgusting illegal rocketship and still you are being whiny and playing underdog ugh

Yeah playing the underdog in the fastest car doesn't work. Like no one gives a fuck, they see you have the fastest car and have been unable to maximize shit for half the races this season. It's laughable.

And don't get me started, I still want to challenge the Baku results bare minimum. It think it's pretty easy to know which races that wing, which has been deemed illegal affected. If not, to me that's a DSQ from the WCC again as those results impact it as well.

But no, British bias is the root of all our problems this season on top of the FIA missing a whole spine.

[opencommunion]

since people are talking about Imane Khelif, some reminders for discussing intersex issues: "Disorders of sex development" or "DSD" is an intersexist term that contributes to medical violence and social alienation. The correct word is "intersex," a neutral term for the characteristics that the term "DSD" others and pathologizes.

You can be intersex and cis. You can be intersex and trans. A lot of intersex people have more complicated relationships to those concepts/terms. Being cis or trans doesn't make someone more or less intersex.

Gender testing in women's sports is both transmisogynistic and intersexist. In practice it usually impacts intersex cis women because trans women are already disqualified by their social histories. Intersex cis athletes subjected to abuse and discrimination due to gender testing results are victims of intersexism, not "misdirected" or "mistaken" transmisogyny. Intersexism, transmisogyny, and misogynoir all overlap in many ways due to the intertwined histories of sex, gender, and race categories.

"Proof" that an intersex cis woman is not a trans woman (i.e. that she was AFAB'd) will not stop TERFs from attacking her, because TERFs also do not view intersex cis women as real women (case in point).

No one's private medical info should be reported on the news, but when an athlete is outed as intersex in this way, trying to defend their honor by claiming they're not really intersex only reinforces intersexism. Arguing over what kind of intersex variation someone has (e.g. hormonal vs. chromosomal) and whether it "counts" is intersexist and also weird. Leave us alone!

anyway, congrats to Imane on her win

[byoldervine]

How To (Realistically) Make A Habit Of Writing

To clarify: Works with my autism. WORKS WITH MY AUTISM!!! I’ve been meeting my goals since I made them my New Year’s resolution! Anyway I’m so sick of all those ‘how to’ guides that don’t actually tell you what the process is they’re just like ‘just do it, but don’t burn yourself out, do what’s best for you!’ because you’re not telling me what I’m not supposed to be burning myself out over but okay, so I made my own. Hope this helps

1. Choose your fighter metric. What works better for you as a measurement of your progress; time spent writing or your word count? Personally I get very motivated and encouraged by seeing my word count go up and making a note of where it should be when I’m done, so I measure by that. At the same time, a lot of people are also very discouraged by their word count and it can negatively impact their motivation to write, and in that case you may be better off working from how much time you spend writing rather than where the word count is

2. Choose your starter Pokémon time frame. How often can you write before it starts to feel like a chore or a burden rather than something fun you look forward to? Many people believe that they have to write daily, but for some people this can do more harm than good. Maybe every two or three days? Weekly? Figure out what fits your schedule and go with it

3. Choose your funny third joke goal. Now that you’ve got your chosen time frame to complete your goal in, what’s a reasonable goal to aim to complete within that time frame based on the metric you chose? If your metric is your word count, how much can you reasonably and consistently write within your chosen time frame? If your metric is time spent writing, how much time can you reasonably and consistently spend writing within that time? Maybe 1000 words per week works, or maybe 10 minutes per day? The goal here is to find something that works for you and your own schedule without burning you out

4. Trial and error. Experiment with your new target and adapt it accordingly. Most people can’t consistently write 1667 words per day like you do in NaNoWriMo, so we want to avoid that and aim somewhere more reasonable. If you feel like it’s too much to do in such a short time frame, either give yourself less to do or more time to do it in. If you find yourself begrudgingly writing so often that it constantly feels more like a chore than something fun, maybe consider adapting things. And if you think that you gave yourself too much wiggle room and you could do more than this consistently, give yourself more of a challenge. Everything needs to suit you and your pace and needs

5. Run your own race. Don’t feel like you’re not accomplishing enough in comparison to others or not working fast enough to satisfy some arbitrary feeling of doubt. Everybody works at their own pace and slower work doesn’t mean worse work. You could be on one word per day and you’ll still see consistent results, which is still one word per day more than you could originally count on. All progress is progress, regardless of its speed

[pucksandpower]

There is something seriously wrong with Williams Racing.

They destroyed the F1 career of one young driver already and, because apparently that wasn’t enough, decided they want to play around with their rookie driver’s neurological health by putting him in the cockpit for a race with a concussion.

Franco Colapinto suffered yet another horrific crash at the 2024 Las Vegas GP. The 21-year-old Argentine had a massive meeting with the barriers — estimated to be at least a 50G impact. Naturally, the Williams driver had to be examined immediately by the medical staff at the track. But his situation was dire enough for him to be sent back from the track.

Colapinto told ESPN Latin America that he had suffered a concussion. “I had a concussion, they told me I couldn’t speak with anyone and sent me back to the hotel. It’s true I tell you,” he explained.

In the aftermath of his crash, Williams put out a team statement explaining the gravity of the situation. It was being suggested that Colapinto’s concussion was severe enough to keep him away from the track on Saturday for the Grand Prix.

However, the young Argentine soldiered on and arrived to the track on Saturday. Starting from the pit lane, the 21-year-old drove his own race and finished 14th at the chequered flag.

Excerpt from Anirban Aly Mandal of The Sports Rush

Driving with a concussion could have worsened the head trauma. Driving with a concussion could have resulted in a crash. Driving with a concussion could have caused lasting damage not only to Franco but to the other drivers racing alongside someone who has temporarily impaired cognitive abilities.

I truly cannot string together words strong enough to explain how disgusted I am by this entire situation.

Shame on Williams Racing. Shame on James Vowles. Shame on every member of the medical team who stood by and allowed this to happen.

[jaythes1mp]

The Incident

Before the incident, you were no one special. 

Growing up, your family belonged to the middle class, your mother a waitress and your father a construction worker. You were an only child, raised by your grandmother from a very young age, as your parents were young and unfit to care for you. Choosing to spend their time working and partying with their friends rather than looking after their baby.

You hadn’t gotten into any of the colleges in your area, so you resulted in making a basic wage by working dual jobs. Saving up just enough money for some scrappy apartment on the outskirts of Gotham.

One afternoon, just before you were able to clock out of another grooly ten-hour shift, six masked women had smashed through the front windows, raiding the store.

The back room was dimly lit, with only a couple dusty desk lamps shedding any kind of light. You were shoved to the ground and forced to sit amongst the other victims while the women gathered whatever they came for. One of them, presumably the leader, began to count the people they had captured, when she stopped and took notice of you. It was the luck of the draw, really. 

You were terrified, practically trembling as the barrel was shoved up against your temple, the hard shove against your front being the only warning to move. 

You don’t remember much after that. Seeing four of the infamous masked fighters coming to rescue your fellow workers and subdue the other robbers. You, however, weren’t as lucky.

Just as the blunt edge of Robin’s katana was slammed into the side of the woman’s weapon, a shot rang out, echoing throughout the walls. 

The weapon was knocked to the ground by the force, completely out of her reach, and she was wrestled to the ground by the vigilantes.

You’re not sure why you fell, but everything suddenly felt warm.

As the room around you grew dizzy, your head spinning from the impact, the world around you felt like it was slowly fading, blurring and darkening at the edges of your vision. The ground was growing sticky beneath you at a rapid rate, turning dark as the deep red liquid began to seep and pour out around you like a spreading fire.

You remember all four of the vigilantes rushing towards you, their faces twisted into panicked masks unlike anything you had ever seen, not even the one time when you had broken your arm as a child. They were more worried than your father would have been at the thought of you dead. 

Oh... I’m dying.

You wanted to chuckle at how absurd it was. You were barely twenty four, and here you were, lying on the cold, dirty floor of a back room, shot through the chest. 

Fuck, my chest hurts.

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, watching as the last few moments of your life were spent looking at the frantic and worried faces of Gotham's heros.

You weren’t sure why they were so devastated. They had all seen death before, first hand. You shouldn't have been any different. There was nothing special about you. You were just an average, worthless citizen, no friends, a shitty job, and an even shittier apartment.

Your hand moved to the hole in your chest, a pained scream ripping through your lips, your eyes squeezed shut.

Then it all went black.

Or.. at least it should have.

Instead, you woke up. 

Gasping frantically for air, you looked around, your heart racing. The looks of the worried teens around you were inconsequential.

Your hands flew to your chest, clawing at the covered skin, looking for the bullet wound that had once been there. It's gone…

A deep, shaky breath left your lips, a relieved sigh following right after.

Then, you finally looked up to meet the eyes of your tenth grade literature teacher.

After the incident, you had found yourself flung back nine years into the past. However, this time, things were different from how you remember them to be.

Now, a cocky, billionaire’s son was claiming to be your best friend, your neighbours, who you vaguely remember having been old, crabby couples, were now completely different. Your old friends were nowhere to be found, And the ever prevalent vigilantes in Gotham seemed almost obsessed with you.

This is a slightly over-detailed synopsis.

I created this idea while I was working on chapter three for Here, Kitty.

If you’d like me to make this drabble into full chapters, then please reblog, comment, or message me. If it gets no interaction then I will understand that it was a shit concept and drop it. If not, then I have a lot of ideas for how the plot will spiral, and a potential twist-ending.

IF anyone was interested in it, then it would include both the BatFamily and SuperFamily, as yanderes.

Thank you for reading through all of this, lovely readers💚 Feel free to send in any suggestions or questions!!

[nasa]

Athletes Go for the Gold with NASA Spinoffs

NASA technology tends to find its way into the sporting world more often than you’d expect. Fitness is important to the space program because astronauts must undergo the extreme g-forces of getting into space and endure the long-term effects of weightlessness on the human body. The agency’s engineering expertise also means that items like shoes and swimsuits can be improved with NASA know-how.

As the 2024 Olympics are in full swing in Paris, here are some of the many NASA-derived technologies that have helped competitive athletes train for the games and made sure they’re properly equipped to win.

The LZR Racer reduces skin friction drag by covering more skin than traditional swimsuits. Multiple pieces of the water-resistant and extremely lightweight LZR Pulse fabric connect at ultrasonically welded seams and incorporate extremely low-profile zippers to keep viscous drag to a minimum.

Swimsuits That Don’t Drag

When the swimsuit manufacturer Speedo wanted its LZR Racer suit to have as little drag as possible, the company turned to the experts at Langley Research Center to test its materials and design. The end result was that the new suit reduced drag by 24 percent compared to the prior generation of Speedo racing suit and broke 13 world records in 2008. While the original LZR Racer is no longer used in competition due to the advantage it gave wearers, its legacy lives on in derivatives still produced to this day.

Trilion Quality Systems worked with NASA’s Glenn Research Center to adapt existing stereo photogrammetry software to work with high-speed cameras. Now the company sells the package widely, and it is used to analyze stress and strain in everything from knee implants to running shoes and more.

High-Speed Cameras for High-Speed Shoes

After space shuttle Columbia, investigators needed to see how materials reacted during recreation tests with high-speed cameras, which involved working with industry to create a system that could analyze footage filmed at 30,000 frames per second. Engineers at Adidas used this system to analyze the behavior of Olympic marathoners' feet as they hit the ground and adjusted the design of the company’s high-performance footwear based on these observations.

Martial artist Barry French holds an Impax Body Shield while former European middle-weight kickboxing champion Daryl Tyler delivers an explosive jump side kick; the force of the impact is registered precisely and shown on the display panel of the electronic box French is wearing on his belt.

One-Thousandth-of-an-Inch Punch

In the 1980s, Olympic martial artists needed a way to measure the impact of their strikes to improve training for competition. Impulse Technology reached out to Glenn Research Center to create the Impax sensor, an ultra-thin film sensor which creates a small amount of voltage when struck. The more force applied, the more voltage it generates, enabling a computerized display to show how powerful a punch or kick was.

Astronaut Sunita Williams poses while using the Interim Resistive Exercise Device on the ISS. The cylinders at the base of each side house the SpiraFlex FlexPacks that inventor Paul Francis honed under NASA contracts. They would go on to power the Bowflex Revolution and other commercial exercise equipment.

Weight Training Without the Weight

Astronauts spending long periods of time in space needed a way to maintain muscle mass without the effect of gravity, but lifting free weights doesn’t work when you’re practically weightless. An exercise machine that uses elastic resistance to provide the same benefits as weightlifting went to the space station in the year 2000. That resistance technology was commercialized into the Bowflex Revolution home exercise equipment shortly afterwards.

Want to learn more about technologies made for space and used on Earth? Check out NASA Spinoff to find products and services that wouldn’t exist without space exploration.   

Make sure to follow us on Tumblr for your regular dose of space!

[eclipseslayer]

• CW: Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, smut oneshot; ddlg, impact play, Toji is an asshole.

"Spread your legs, pretty girl. You know what time it is. Time to check if anyone's been touching you, yeah?"

You look up at Toji as he approaches you while you're sitting on the couch. You swallow thickly. Your daddy always does this, gives you check-ups every now and then to see if you've been touched by anybody, but, the thing was, was that you would never allow anyone other than your daddy to touch you.

You pout.

"Daddy, I swear no one's touched me—" You whine, but Toji waves it off.

"Don't care what you have to say. Come on. Open up those legs for me." He plants his hands onto his hips and raises an eyebrow at you expectantly.

Reluctantly, you open up your legs, giving him a sight only he's allowed to see. Your pretty, bare pussy underneath your underwear as you push your pink panties to the side.

Toji crouches down so he's on his knees, and shifts so he's sat in between your legs, in front of your pussy.

He hums, and takes a thick finger and slides it between your folds and begins to rub the space there. You look down at him, analyzing his expression as he furrows his eyebrows as if he's looking for something. You wonder what he's looking for as your heart beats quickly in your chest, hoping that he doesn't find anything.

However, your high hopes are quickly dwindling when you see his expression harden. His jaw tightens, and he narrows his eyes before looking up at you. He stands up and puts his hands on his hips before beckoning you to stand up.

Your heart races in your chest when you realize what he wants, and you quickly shake your head.

"Daddy no—" You plead, but your poor cries are drown out through deaf ears.

"Get up and turn around for me," he says, harshly, with a bite to his tone.

You whine and you shake your head. "No daddy, I can't—"

"Get up or else it'll be worse. Listen to your daddy, sweetheart," He grumbles, making a motion with his hand for you to get up and turn around.

Hesitantly, you get up, and you turn around so your ass is facing him, just like he asked.

"Hold onto the couch," he commands, and you lean forward, grabbing the arm of the couch.

Toji lifts your skirt up so he can see the round, plushness of your ass. He smirks and he looks at you, before grabbing a fistful of your hair, he yanks you towards him, and you let out a yelp.

"I know you let other guys touch you, sweetheart."

You whine and you shake your head, knowing that it's not true. "Daddy that's not true—"

"Don't lie to me," he snaps, before using his other hand to slap your ass.

Slap!

With a piercing slap, you yelp, letting out a cry as your fingernails reactively dig into the couch.

"Daddy, no, I'd never—!"

Slap!

"I said, 'don't lie to me.' I can tell when other guys touch you..." He smoothes his hand over your ass, rubbing over the places he smacked. "...I don't like being lied to, sweetheart."

Slap!

With another smack to your ass, you let out a cry as you jolt forward. You feel tears begin to prickle out from your eyes, as you thought about how unrightfully unfair this was. He did this all the time with you, touching you to determine if you've been touched or not, and the results were always random. You just knew that Toji would claim that boys were touching you just so he could have an excuse to spank you and be mean to you. It was cruel, and you hated it, but he didn't care.

Slap!

Another slap, and then another, and then another, and another and another, until your ass had bruises on them, and until you were crying in tears.

Toji smirks at the sight before him, you, trembling as you cry and your pretty bruises dotting your ass.

You're a sight to behold.

"There now..." He coos as his hand smooths itself over your ass. You hiccup, trying to calm down as he coos gently into your ear. "Shh... it's okay, sweetheart." He kisses your tears away. "Just don't let it happen again, yeah?"

[radishaur]

ʚɞ butterflies ʚɞ

Warnings: slight spoilers Genre: fluff Characters: Luffy, Zoro, & Law Summary: How they realize they have feelings for you (touch edition) Author's Note: I have like 2 other longer works I should be writing for but instead I'm doing this, so enjoy! Might do the other love languages/senses(?) later if people want. masterlist

Luffy loves physical touch with everyone. He also never asks permission first, just sends himself flying into people, so you would definitely have to be used to him just wrapping himself around you.

As a result, I think there are so many opportunities for him to accidentally realize his feelings through touch because he's just always touching. However, I think that when it comes to a partner, Luffy would really value making you feel safe. We've seen how devastated he was after he wasn't able to keep his crew safe in Saboady and even worse after Ace, so I think his first aha moment would have to revolve around that.

~

Luffy always wound up on some wild adventure no matter what island they visited. This time, the crew had planned for it and assigned you to go with him. The idea was that you would keep him out of trouble, but who were they kidding. It's Luffy.

He's walking around with you when all of a sudden he sees something further into town that he has to see right this second. He doesn't even think twice about grabbing you closer with one arm and beginning to slingshot his other one to propel the two of you up.

"Hold on tight!"

He's expecting you to protest, as most of the crew usually does when they're about to get flung to god knows where on his whim, but instead, you simply wrap your arms around his neck and get as close as you possibly can.

He lets go and hears you laughing, of all things, so he looks down and he could swear his heart stuttered.

You were looking right at him as you giggled, high on the excitement of your predicament. You don't look even slightly scared as your approach gets closer and closer, instead, you're looking at him with so much adoration that he feels like he can't breathe. He wraps his arm around you tighter and he's extra careful as he lands to cushion the impact for you.

"You didn't complain," he finds himself saying, arm still tight around you.

"What good would that do?" you ask, the last of your giggles subsiding. You turn to him then, your smile growing as you add, "Besides, I know you'd never let me get hurt."

All of the places where his skin meets yours feel like it's on fire and his heart aches all of a sudden in a way he's not used to.

He lets you go, his body tingling where your body no longer presses against his and the two of you go on with your day, but he can't help thinking about it. The way you had curled into him, put your trust in him to keep you safe, it fills his heart with a pleasure he hasn't felt before and he finds himself wanting to feel it again.

Over the day, he finds every excuse he can to keep touching you like that. He finds more faraway places that look interesting. He grabs your hand to show you something cool he saw. He even insists on climbing onto the rooftops and using that as an excuse to hold you close, just so you don't fall. His heart still races each time and it eats at him well into the night when he's back on the Sunny.

He knows even from the first touch that something is different. He doesn't feel like this with his other crewmembers, but it takes a discussion with Robin to finally realize that he likes you. When he does, he's quick to find you and pull you close again, reveling in the feeling now that it has a name. He almost shouts it out right then and there, but he decides to give it some time.

He still has to become the Pirate King after all.

Zoro is not a touchy person, but he's not opposed to it either. He's become more comfortable with it, you kind of have to if you're on Luffy's crew in my opinion, but he still doesn't seek it out himself.

You'd probably be the one to touch him more than the other way around, but I think the places he lets you touch and how long is what would set his realization moment apart.

~

Zoro can feel the sweat dripping down his back as the sun beats down on him. He'd been training for hours now on the deck of the Sunny as everyone had some time to relax.

He stops when Sanji comes out to announce that lunch is ready. He sets down the weights he's using and everyone starts to eat. He's quick to join in, hungry after a hard workout, but his back is aching. It's something he's used to, but it hurts a little extra today.

He rubs his back a few times and readjusts his sitting position and the rest of lunch is uneventful. He's about to continue his workout when he hears you call his name.

"Zoro!"

He turns and you're right in front of him.

"Before you start, I couldn't help but notice it looks like your back hurts. Do you want a massage?" you ask, motioning to your own back as you mimic the movements he had made during lunch.

"She's very good at them," Robin calls, observing from her favorite spot under the orange trees.

He hesitates. He trusts the crew, especially you, but the thought of someone touching his back makes him grit his teeth. Scars on the back are a swordsman's shame, after all. He's always been cautious of letting anyone near his back and today is no exception. Thankfully, you seem to sense his turmoil because you smile politely and say, "It's no pressure. If you change your mind, just let me know."

He goes back to training until dinner and he can definitely feel the ache in his back now, but he's still insistent that this is the burden of the best. Becoming the greatest swordsman requires discipline and sometimes pain. He won't let Luffy down, won't let him bear his pain alone, so he shrugs it off and goes to bed.

Or, he tries at least. After a few hours with no luck, he finally relents. He knows that tonight is your turn to be on watch and he hasn't heard you come back down to switch out, so begrudgingly he makes his way up to the crow's nest where he knows you'll be. If he was going to let anyone touch his back, he would prefer it be you out of anyone.

"Oh, hi Zoro," you say, surprised to see him up but seemingly not annoyed by his presence, "What are you doing up?"

"Can't sleep," is all he says, closing the door behind him as he settles in next to you.

You smile, adjusting yourself so that you're facing him. "I've been there," you hum, letting your face rest on your knees as you look out the windows to the sea.

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a few minutes before he works up the courage to say, "If the offer is still available, I wouldn't mind the massage."

He's surprised to see your face light up, grinning as you immediately agree and ask him to turn around. You tell him that you'll be careful and he tells you to do your worst.

The moment he feels your hands on his back, he begins to think that maybe he made a terrible mistake. It feels good and he can feel the ache in his back start to dissipate as you work out the stress in his muscles, but he also can't help the way his heart skips a beat and his mind starts to malfunction. He starts overthinking just why he felt so confident letting you touch him like this when he can't even imagine letting someone else touch his back for a fraction of the time you are. It stresses him out so much that he can feel his back tensing.

"Zoro, you're supposed to relax," you tease, and he can feel himself flush as he grumbles something under his breath about how it's not his fault that he's got so much stress worked up in him.

You laugh at him, which only makes his embarrassment worse, but you begin moving slower and taking more time to delicately work out the knots. You must think that you're helping but it only makes his heart flip more.

Eventually, he finds himself relaxing into your touch. Robin was right about your skill, your hands working out not only his physical stress but his mental stress as well.

He doesn't think he's ever felt so content.

You massage him for so long that he loses track of time. At some point, you begin making conversation with him and it helps him focus less on his erratic heartbeat and nerves. Eventually, there's a knock on the crow's nest door and Robin peeks her head in.

You stop at that point, smiling and greeting her warmly and Zoro is embarrassed at just how much he misses your hands on him. Robin looks over at him finally and he can feel his ears heat up as she smirks at him, as if she knows something he doesn't. You say goodbye to them both, telling Zoro that you hope he can get some sleep, and then he's alone with Robin.

"I see you changed your mind?" she mused, a tease in her voice that made him blush even harder.

When he was finally back in bed, his back was the loosest it had felt in a long time, but he still couldn’t sleep. He kept thinking about your hands on his back, warm and gentle but firm, and he cursed silently into the room. He'd been in denial for too long and this had only opened the floodgates.

Law does not get touchy with his crew. Ever.

He loves his crew, don't get me wrong, but he keeps his cards close to his chest. The only time he would touch you or you him would be in some kind of emergency situation or something medically related. I think it would take a situation like that for Law to break his walls down a little bit and have to touch you, out of necessity, for him to realize his feelings.

~

Law is no stranger to late nights doing work and tonight is no exception. There are only so many hours in the day and it's his job as Captain of the Heart Pirates to be prepared for any situation, so if he has to sacrifice some sleep to do that, then so be it.

What he's not used to is other people being up when he does.

He had worked well into the night, until his eyes could barely stay open, and had finally decided to head back to his room instead of falling asleep at his office desk. On the way there, he noticed a light still on in the library.

Thinking that someone had left it on, he muttered under his breath about it but went in to turn it off. He was about to make a mental note to remind his crew to not waste energy when he heard something shuffle.

He made his way over to the couch where he heard the noise and was surprised to find you curled up asleep, except you looked miserable. He called your name out as he knelt down to inspect you closer.

"Captain?" you asked, eyes cracking open as if you had felt his presence.

"You look awful," he said, his voice dry as he asked, "Are you sick?"

You had the decency to look sheepish at his question, which confirmed what he already knew: you were definitely sick. "I came to see you, but you looked so hard at work, I didn't want to disturb you...," you explained, your voice hoarse.

"You should have just come in," he scolded, frowning as he asked, "Why are you here and not back in your room?"

You avoided his eyes, seemingly embarrassed as you answered, "I tried. Couldn't make it back."

He sighed, all his exhaustion having left upon finding you in this state. "Can you sit up?" he asked, already assessing your symptoms as he watched you comply with his request.

You were shivering and even from his spot kneeling next to you, he could feel the warmth you were emitting. It also seemed like you were sweating slightly, so the most likely culprit was a fever. Normally, he would have just used his devil fruit powers to get you back to your room, but judging by the wince you did as you sat up, you also had a headache. Using his room would only amplify that pressure, even if only for a moment, and he didn't want to cause you any unnecessary discomfort or pain, so the old-fashioned method it was.

"I'm assuming you can't walk since you couldn't make it back to your room yourself, so I'll have to carry you," he explained, twisting so his back was facing you as he said, "Get on my back."

There were a few moments of silence where he almost repeated himself, thinking maybe you hadn't heard him before he felt your weight on his back and your arms loosely wrap around his shoulders. Your breath brushed against his ear and he almost shivered as he stood up, adjusting your body against himself so that you didn't have to hold yourself up.

"Sorry, Captain," you apologized, attempting to readjust some of your weight back to yourself. He easily shifted you back, his grip on your leg tightening slightly so you didn't fall. He didn't know why, but the adjustment made him all the more aware of just how much the two of you were touching. His face warmed just slightly as his heart skipped a fraction of a second.

"Just stay still," he scolded, but it didn't have anywhere near as much heat as he intended.

You didn't respond after that, seemingly content to let him carry you the rest of the way. At some point, you let your head rest on his shoulder. Your breath ghosted across his ear with each exhale and he couldn’t stop his heart from racing.

When he finally got you back to your room, he carefully dropped you off onto the bed with a promise that he would be right back. When he returned, he had his stethoscope, a thermometer, and some basic flu remedies.

"Take this," Law said, handing you some medicine and a glass of water to wash it down with. You sat up from your curled-up position in the bed and accepted it, swallowing the pill with only a little bit of a struggle.

"Is it bad?" you asked, your voice quiet.

"No, but I need to check your temperature and make sure there's no fluid in your lungs," he explained, holding up the thermometer first.

You leaned forward, letting him place the thermometer on your forehead. It blinked back at him and while you definitely were running a fever, it wasn't deadly. He told you as much and you smiled slightly at that.

"I need to check your lungs now, so I need to be able to access your chest," he said, doing his best to keep as professional as possible despite how irrationally his heart was beating.

You hummed, unbuttoning and unzipping your boiler suit just enough to expose the top of your chest to him. Law sat next to you on the bed, angling himself so that he was facing you, and began checking your chest for any odd breathing sounds.

His heart nearly jumped out of his chest when he felt your fingers graze the skin just above his top where his tattoo peeks out.

He's not done checking your lungs yet, but he freezes. His first instinct is to pull away immediately but for some reason, he can't make himself move as he feels your fingers trace the top of his tattoo. He swallows thickly when your fingers drop down into your lap and you murmur, "They're so beautiful up close."

He knows that the fever is clouding your mind right now. He knows you're acting like this because you're sick and that you would never say that to him were you not, but his face goes so red he thinks he might have caught your fever and he can't seem to form the right words, so instead he just continues his check on your lungs.

There's nothing wrong with them and he finally finds the strength to move and stand up from the bed. His heart is still pumping a million miles a minute and he can feel the tips of his ears heating up, but he tells himself that he must be sick too. That's the only way to explain what he just felt.

As he's leaving you call out to him.

"Law?"

His heart stops again, hearing his name fall from your lips. He doesn't say anything, afraid he might not even be able to, but he stops and turns to look at you. You're still in your boiler suit, but you've curled back up into the bed. You're still looking at him though, and he can't seem to take his eyes off you as you smile at him and say, "Thank you. You're my hero."

He doesn't sleep at all that night. He checked periodically for any signs of a fever of his own and found nothing, even the next day. The feel of your fingers grazing his chest is still lingering even days later and he can't seem to meet your eyes the same way he used to. He realizes how absolutely fucked he was when he finds himself missing your breath on his neck and wanting your fingers to trace his other tattoos as well.

ღ radishaur — i do not own any of these characters. do not plagiarize. please enjoy and remember to be respectful! 

[knnichs]

𝐥𝐚𝐛𝐲𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐡

when does he realize he’s fallen inlove with you?

c. cyno, kinich, thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli, scara/wanderer, xiao

t. might be slightly ooc as this is a multicharacter hc, friends to … to friends LOL, fluff, wc 0.4k

as always, author notes at the end!

He realizes it when you are laughing along with him. The two of you hanging off the top of the cliff of a mountain that took hours to climb, sitting on the edge of the plank platform and feeling the wind glide across your hair. He smiles—looking at you with eyes filled with nothing but adoration. He slips a silent thank you for joining him, in this spontaneous hiking trip, for just being with him at this very moment. He loves you more than you’ll ever know, but he won't be able to say that outright no matter how hard he tries, often shoving those feelings down his throat in hopes that you would stick around a little more. Because what would happen if you ended up not feeling the same way? He’d rather have you with him, as a friend, than nothing at all.

cyno, kinich

You find yourself often helping him out with his daily errands for the day. You know it’s exhausting for him, carrying crate after crate, negotiating with the merchants, doing something after another. Your presence alone in these seemingly mundane tasks makes him look forward to these silly things that he once viewed as tiresome. He gets a few hours with you by his side, chatting about everything and nothing, smiling about the stupid things you see along your way—this one is just any regular day for you, but when accompanied with the racing of his heart as he sees you happy being with him, it's certainly a special day for him. One that he’ll treasure, deep in his heart.

thoma, kaveh, ga-ming, zhongli

He claims that it’s nothing. All your attempts at getting close with him, your frequent invites to go somewhere and coincidentally losing the third ticket that was supposed to be for your other friend, you insisting that you stay with him until the sun goes down—no matter where the two of you were. He knows it means something, but he doesn't want to be the one at fault for plain out assuming you liked him. I mean, out of everyone, you really chose him? He says to himself that he'd do his best to show his disinterest, hoping that would stray you off and make you rethink your decisions. He doesn’t act on that thought in the end, finding your presence much better than whatever the wind has to say. It’s too soon to tell you that he loves you anyway.

scaramouche/wanderer, xiao

@ knnichs 2023 ﹑ do not repost, republish, translate, feed to ai or modify any of my works. doing so can and will result into me blocking you.

oh brother i was debating if i should put sethos up on the first one… if you want to you can actually pretend that his name is on the list since i was ABOUT to do it anyway HELP !!! ANYWAY i have a volleyball tournament for the next two days ,, if we win then there will be another vb!reader post soon . other than that i really miss writing for the women of genshin impact sigh. i miss navia. i miss furina. i miss hu tao. i might make a part 2 girl kisser edition,, I REALLY WANT TO !!!!1!!! itll be so much cuter id literally pour my entire soul into it.. ANYWAY see you folks ill be back again soon with a better fic for the network & even more vb au,, my inbox will be open for brainrots & chatting and u can even drop in a request if you want, ill see if i can do it !!

[dooberific]

I absolutely love your writing!! Idk if you're open for request, but if you do, can I request doctor!reader with Harumasa? He loves to go to infirmary not only he can pretend to be sick but also just to see them

Double trouble cause I thought it sounded like a fun combination. Does using a 1988 song name as the title make me sound old? 🤔

❝ 𝘉𝘢𝘥 𝘊𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯' 𝘠𝘰𝘶 ❞

harumasa x afab!doctor!reader

genre: fluff, I projected a little bit into this???

summary: if being in love with your cute doctor wasn’t bad enough, she’s completely clueless when it comes to romance

wc: 1.6k

The end of your pen tapped thoughtfully against your plush lower lip as you skimmed your notes. Once. Twice. Your eyes dart to the opened paper file on the counter beside you.

 Even cracked it was a solid two inches high and crammed full of health histories, specialty consult results and prescription sheets all bound haphazardly with what looked like ties from a bread bag. You really needed to get an actual binder to hold it all, but as of now you had other problems to address.

“Well,” you swiveled your chair around as you clicked your pen, eyes still skimming your intake sheet before you looked up with a smile, “Good news is nothing seems to be wrong. Well, let me rephrase that, wrong when compared to your baseline.” 

It was an important differentiation to make when you were dealing with one of your most tasking patients. In your two years of clinic practice in the city you had never needed to spend a series of days pouring over a patient file, heck, even before you graduated and were staged as a resident in the clinic in the Outer Ring it wasn’t so extensive. 

Ether Aptitude Regression Syndrome was a bad actor, and Asaba Harumasa seemed to be its favorite role to haunt. 

He coughed pitifully, a hand splayed over his chest as he shook his head. “Are you sure, Doc? My body’s aching all over and my head feels funny, and I—,” he coughed again, “can’t seem to shake this cough.” 

You frowned, scribbling another note on your papers. “Have you been taking all your medications as indicated?”

“Just as the doctor ordered…actually,” a pensive expression decorated his face as he fisted the fabric of his work shirt, “maybe I have a deficiency in something, I think I ran out of some of my vitamins.” 

You perked up immediately, flipping quickly to his laundry list of medication and supplements. “Which one have you been missing? A? C? K?”

“I think it was vitamin you.”

“Oh.” You pulled your prescription pad off the desk. “I’m going to write you an order for  Vitamin U. Try adding some cruciferous veggies to your diet, leafy greens, broccoli, stuff like that. Call me if it starts giving you stomach problems.”

You tore the slip off your pad as you extended it to him, the paper decorated in your curling and messy script. 

“Do you need a work excuse?”

Should he just quit? This was the question he asked himself every time he stepped out the door of the clinic back onto the street, paper bag of medication in his hand. 

White coat syndrome was a very real affliction, though his heart wasn’t racing and his blood pressure wasn’t spiking because he was anxious. After the fourth visit you just assumed it was his baseline response to see his pulse spike randomly through the exam, after all, his syndrome mainly seemed to impact his heart and lungs. 

What you didn’t know was that wasn’t his baseline, nor was it a mutation of his syndrome not documented by his past physicians. It was simply a biological response to something else you conveniently seemed to not notice: the raging interest he had in you.

Rest assured he was absolutely mortified when he figured it out himself, laying on his back staring at the ceiling in the dark as he realized he was enthralled by the very idea of you. Your intelligence, your nimble hands, the way you tapped your pen against your lips when met was a challenge you hadn’t quite deciphered, your warm smile.

It wasn’t a complete lie when he would tell you he felt feverish, or that his stomach felt sick and his heart was racing, he felt all those things with horrifying clarity tenfold when your hand pressed against his forehead after noting aloud that his skin seemed flush and clammy. 

Was it crossing a line to be flirting with your doctor? Definitely, he was sure he was toeing some doctor-patient professional relationship line, but if he ended up in someone else’s care later then there really wasn’t anything holding him back. 

But he was growing increasingly convinced that if you weren’t intentionally playing dumb that you might be a little thick when it came to the nuanced science of flirtation because he had shifted from casual to nearly outright and you never batted an eye.

How else could you have misinterpreted his texts from last week? He was half-giddy with excitement, sure he had you this time.

I miss you.

Your appointment isn’t until next week, you didn’t miss anything. Have a good night :)

It haunted him nearly as much as the day he forgot his work excuse and asked you to text it to him, how proudly he had flipped the phone screen to show Tsukishiro until she squinted and asked, “Why do you have heart emojis around your doctor’s name?”

A devastating blow to his ego. But so was every failed attempt to catch your eye. 

“Do you have an inhaler? Cause you just took my breath away.”

“Hold on, I’ll grab one from the cart. You’re supposed to carry your own inhaler, Mr Asaba!” You scolded, disappearing for a moment before tossing him an inhaler. 

“You look a little under the weather yourself, Doc. Sure you aren’t deficient in vitamin M E?”

“Ah, I didn’t put as much makeup on today.” You cupped your cheeks with your hands thoughtfully. “I feel fine though, thanks for your concern.” 

“I’m no organ donor, but I’d love to give you my heart.”

“Your medical condition prevents you from joining the organ donation program.” You didn’t even bother to turn around when you acknowledged him.

“I think my heart just skipped a beat when I looked at you.”

“You’re on a medication that regulates heart rhythm, should I write you a cardiology referral?”

He went to text you again as he walked home for the evening. Typed. Deleted. Typed again. Deleted again. You just weren’t getting it, or maybe you were just too kind to tell him you weren’t interested or even that you had a boyfriend already on his numerous visits. Maybe he should just give you some space?

But maybe that would be cruel when you were standing on the sidewalk waiting for the light to change, mascara smeared down your cheeks as you sniffled. He pocketed his phone.

“Hey Doc, you alright?” 

You tensed, head swiveled in his direction before you quickly turned your face away, hands swiping at your cheeks before wiping them on your dark scrubs hastily.

“Oh, hey Mr. Asaba.” He frowned at your attempt at a cheerful tone, your voice still wavering from your tears before you cleared your throat. “You, uh, don’t have to call me Doc when the clinic is closed.” 

“And you don’t have to call me Mister when I’m not sitting on your exam table.” He retorted, catching the little quirk at the corner of your lips as they quivered in a small smile.

“Want me to walk you home? It’s kinda late.” 

“No, but thank you.” You peered over your shoulder towards the restaurant just behind you. You gripped your bag tighter, inching closer to where he stood beside you on the curb.  “Actually, would you mind..?” 

He didn’t have to ask you what was wrong, within the first five minutes of your walk you had apologized to him multiple times, started crying again, and spilled your heart out.

Six bad dates in the span of a couple weeks came to a head over a plate of chicken parm, your date kicking back as he declared you to be dull, hopeless, slow, and much uglier in person than your dating profile picture (which was your clinic profile photo). 

“He said that I “couldn’t take a hint”, whatever that’s supposed to mean!” You cried indignantly before you turned to him, eyes puffy and wet from your tears. 

“Am I that bad?”

He sucked a breath between his teeth. “Well, not to play the devil’s advocate but I’ve been flirting with you for weeks and you didn’t notice.” 

You stopped dead in your tracks. “What?!”

He held up his hands defensively, but before he could say anything your head had already hung low, shuffling your clinic sneakers on the dirty sidewalk outside your apartment.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was small as your shoulders sank. “I’m not very good at stuff like this.”

He rubbed the back of his neck, fingers grazing his choker. “I noticed, but it’s fine. You just need things to be a little more straightforward.”

He took a deep breath, clasping his hands together as he pointed at you. “I think you’re very pretty and charming in your weird doctor-y kind of way, so I would like to take you out for dinner sometime. Like, romantically.”

He was sure you gave yourself whiplash for how quickly your head snapped up, eyes wide. You brushed your tousled hair back from your face, cheeks flushing brightly enough he could see them burning under the streetlights.

“Oh, okay….when?”

“Tomorrow after you get off? I’m dreaming of beer and fried chicken if you aren’t opposed.”

“Of course not!” 

He was a little taken aback by how aggressively you answered, your hands clasping around one of his as if he was about to dematerialize before your very eyes.

“Great, then I will see you tomorrow. Have a good night, Doc—I mean, (y/n).”

“Good night to you as well.”

He turned to leave. He was practically screaming inside like a teenage girl you just secured a prom date, a new lightness to his step in the wake of his victory.

“Harumasa!”

He paused in his step, head whipping around to face you. You still stood on the stoop, a smile plastered across your face like he hadn’t seen before, one that lit your eyes up and dimpled your cheek.

“Thank you!”

He gripped his chest over his heart as it flipped wildly in his chest. His grin was pained when he looked up at you. 

“Doc, I might actually need emergency care this time--,”

Rey 2024

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

WHIPPED

Pairing - Tommy Shelby x fem!reader

Summary - You strain from your husband who will not give you attention. He doesn't like that.

Warnings - NONCON, domestic violence, dub con, manipulative, belt whipping, spanking, tommy is mean, degrading words, breeding kink.

Word count - 3k+

Notes - You voted, you received.

Something in Tommy’s intellect changed overnight. Every once in a while, his mind would travel back in time to the war. But now, when he awoke from his nightmares, he still felt like he was crawling through the tunnels. The hairs on the back of his neck stuck up more frequently, his hand rested on his gun a lot. Feeling too skeptical that he’d need to fire it at any second. 

It had impacted your newly wedded marriage, but you didn’t dare to say anything to him. You showed you cared by holding him a little tighter at night. Whilst he laid on the bed like a stone figure, staring up into the ceiling as he refused to fall asleep. 

The sex had turned emotionless like flowers dying without water. The intimacy was dead. It made you down in the mouth and filled your heart with despair. You only wanted to kiss him, talk to him, be held by him. But he had forgotten who you were. 

Over the weeks, your sadness turned into anger. You refused to be upset by his neglect any longer. So, you found other ways to find pleasure in your life and quickly realized that the only way to get your husband’s attention was jealousy. It frustrated Tommy when you started to ignore his presence, venture out without informing him and associating with his family more than him. Tommy would lecture you, wagging his finger at you. You’d only simply nod your head, awaiting for it to be over. Then it would repeat all over again. But Tommy’s mind was too caught up in his business to find the time to truly teach you a lesson. 

Until now, the surprisingly last straw was Arthur whispering something into your ear, resulting in you playfully slapping his shoulder and giggling like a teenager. Tommy’s head snapped to you two, everyone in the reading room still watching Tommy as he awaited for you to acknowledge him. 

After a pause, you finally looked up to Tommy and the stare off commenced. Your eyebrows were furrowed as Tommy’s eyes twitched, he knew you had never been unfaithful. But his mind was now racing with thoughts of the possibility occurring if he didn’t put a stop to his behavior.  

“Well, we will have a break. It seems that my wife has forgotten her manners and I must reteach them…” Tommy declared confidently as he lit another cigarette between his cold lips. 

All heads snapped towards you and Arthur’s face turned beet red. 

“Thomas” you sighed as you pressed your hand to your forehead, cheeks turning a shade darker from embarrassment. 

Any other time, Tommy adored it when you called him by his full name. But this time, he felt as if you were challenging him, trying to humiliate him in front of his family. Tommy took three large strides towards the door and motioned for you to exit in an exaggerated manner. When you merely continued to stare back at him dully he snapped. 

“Get the fuck up!” Tommy raised his voice, causing everyone in the room to flinch. 

Tommy’s eyes were strained, a vein popped out of his forehead as his hands formed to fists. 

“Tommy” Arthur protested, leaning forward in his seat. 

Arthur was always so loyal to Tommy, but grew to be highly protective of you. He was prepared to cop the fire instead, take a beating if he had to. It was his doings anyways, not yours. 

“It’s alright Arthur” you soothed his guilty look, looking confident even though your heart was pounding in shock at your husband’s outburst. 

Tommy saw red when you reassuringly pressed your hand to his chest. Without waiting any longer he marched towards you. You jumped up from your seat before he could yank you up. But he still latched onto your bicep and pulled you out of the room with no care as you winced from his hold. 

“Tommy… You’re hurting me!” You cried as he pulled you up the stairs. 

There was no answer from him. Only the sounds of grunts through his hard expression as he led you to the bedroom. Shoving you into the room, Tommy slammed the door shut and stomped around in circles, his hand tugging at his roots as he heard the shouts and cries of his fallen fellow soldiers. Your arms crossed over your chest, a frustrated expression set on your face by glue. 

“Thomas you’re being dramatic” you pointed out, shaking your head at his behavior. The embarrassment had drenched you completely, he was too furious to notice how awful he had made the situation. 

Tommy’s head shot towards you and he glared at you. 

“Pardon? You parading yourself around my brother in front of my entire family is nothing more than me being dramatic!” Tommy roared as he marched towards you. “Why don’t you fucking respect me!” Tommy yelled, his pale skin now red as he grabbed onto your shoulders in a warning touch. 

His anger spattered onto you as you felt your chest tighten, you scoffed at his words, not intimidated by his hold on you. “Oh calm down Thomas!” You hissed at your husband. 

You fell to the fall before the pain even shot from your cheek. Before the redness even grew on your timid skin. You choked out in shock as you raised your hand to the burning sensation on your cheek. The back of Tommy's hand was still positioned in the air from where he hit you. Tommy had never hit you before, he had vowed to never do it. 

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down” Tommy growled.

Swiftly, he bent down to yank you back up to your feet. When you struggled against his hold and tried to smack him away he hit you again with the front of his hand this time. Then he hit the other cheek just as hard. You screamed out in fear but his hand was swift to smack over your mouth. 

“Who do you fucking think you are? Huh! You wear my name! You’re in my house!” Tommy lectured, shaking you around like a ragdoll before he shoved you back to the ground. 

Tommy went back to walking around in circles, his hand roughly massaged his chin as he wondered what to do with you. His disobedient wife. You laid on the floor, frozen in fear as you stared at his polished shoes twirling around the room. With your hands pressed against your stinging cheeks, tears shedded from your aching eyes. Your sobs were silent and rough. 

A heavy sigh left his lips as he looked down to you. Slowly, he undid his belt and slipped it out of the loops of his pants and folded it in half. Tommy fell back onto the brown leather armchair in the corner of the room and lightly slapped his belt against his knee. 

“Come here, lay over my knee my darling…” Tommy spoke in a soothing voice, but had a wicked grin on his lips. 

You looked up at him with fearful eyes, then your stare was stuck on his belt slapping against his pants. Knowing his intentions, you whimpered out pathetically and shook your head against the floor. 

“N-no” you objected weakly. 

“It wasn’t an offer” Tommy grunted, he leaned towards you, the grip on the leather tightened. “Do it before I show you how strong my foot is” Tommy warned, tapping his foot impatiently.

It took you a moment to get up, you were too busy having a little silent breakdown as you whined at his response. The smirk on his lips grew larger as he watched you gradually crawl towards him, wincing to yourself as you climbed up onto his lap and laid stiff on top of him. 

Tommy sighed as he pulled up your dress, his hand rubbed your ass briefly before he yanked down your panties to your knees. The leather brushed over your backside and you gripped onto his leg in fear as you sobbed quietly. 

“You seemed to have mistaken my kindness for weakness, my darling. I have no problem with showing you my ruthlessness, the many tales you heard of me before we had even met” Tommy explained as he dragged the belt all over your skin. 

“You’re scaring me Tommy” you sniffled out. 

The inside of your throat felt swollen and your chest ached. A harsh slap with the belt landed on your rear. It caused your panicky yelp to echo throughout the room. When you tried to impulsively wiggle yourself off of him he smacked you again with the leather. 

“You’ve lost your privileges to address me by my first name, correct yourself right now!” Tommy ordered, his hold on his belt tight as his free hand went around your back to keep you trapped. 

“Tom-uh Mr Shelby?” You answered unsurely, your expression wincing as your shoulders raised. 

“Good girl!” Tommy praised as the belt smacked against your rear again. 

You chortled out as he continued on with your punishment. Quickly, you lost count with how many times he hit you as he flicked his wrist in a haphazardly manner. Sometimes he’d focus purely on one cheek. Or do slow and heavy smacks across every inch of your skin. Then he’d do quick stings across your rear. 

“Please stop!” you begged, your voice dry and weak, your mouth pressed against his knee as you tried to muffle out your cries. 

“Aw, my darling can’t take it anymore eh?” Tommy chuckled. 

He dropped the belt onto your back and rubbed your tender backside with his bare hand roughly. 

“Please I love you Tommy!” you exhorted, desperately hoping this would ease his suspicions. 

The screech was piercing when he smacked your bruised skin wickedly with his palm. 

“Correct yourself, whore” Tommy spat. 

‘Ah! I love you Mr Shelby” you sobbed out. 

Your head fell back down to his knee, your teeth bit into his leg to silence yourself but he didn't mind. Surprisingly, the pain felt nice to him. 

“That’s a good girl…” Tommy grinned, rubbing your ass again roughly as if he was praising you. “I’m going to beat your ass beyond breaking point. Then I’ll know you’ve learnt your lesson” Tommy addressed. 

“No Mr Shelby please! I understand!” You protested as you squirmed over him. Tommy was quick to hold you on top of him as you tried to swing your body onto the floor. “Please forgive me! I won’t do it again!” You pleaded as you tried to blink back your tears.   

“Stay still before I hit you with the buckle!” Tommy threatened, his words hissing like a viper. 

You mewled out, but listened to his demand. Tommy picked up his belt again and proceeded to whip you with it. 

When your cries had died down and you laid still on him, Tommy dropped the belt to the ground and rubbed your black and blue rear. When his fingers rubbed against your slit, he grinned to himself as he brought them into his sight. They glistered in your fluid and he sucked his fingers clean, moaning to himself at your sweet taste. 

“Seems like I wasn’t the only one that enjoyed this”' Tommy commented as his fingers returned to your cunt, fondling with your folds and teasing your nerves by randomly pushing in a digit. “Have you learnt your lesson?” Tommy cocked an eyebrow to you. 

As you tried to turn your head back towards him, you nodded to him. “Yes Mr Shelby” you spoke out breathlessly. 

“Which is?” He questioned. 

You choked on your words as you blinked back your tears. “To be a good wife to you!”

“Such a good wife…” Tommy soothed as he caressed your bruised ass. “Stand up and strip for your husband” he instructed as he leaned back into his seat. 

Through gritted teeth, you stood on your two feet and slowly stripped till you were completely nude in front of him. Your body shook like a leaf in the wind as you resisted not to cover yourself with your arms. Tommy sighed to himself as he looked your heated figure up and down, and then he pulled out his length and gradually stroked himself a couple of times. Not failing to express how aroused he was through his groans. 

“Come here and sit on my cock eh?” 

“Mr Shelby please” you begged weakly, eyes stinging with discomfort. 

Tommy leaned forward and pointed his finger to you. “Shut up before I change my mind, bend you over and fuck your ass” he warned, his pointed finger completely still. 

You nodded your head like a begging dog and practically ran over to Tommy despite the pain that shot through your rear. You straddled your husband, his hands were on your hips as he grinned up to you, his cock pressed against your inner thigh. 

“Who do you belong to?” Tommy asked as his length pushed into your throbbing, soaked entrance. 

“You Mr Shelby!” You answered through a groan as you slid down his shaft. 

“Good… No more talking to anyone, at all, without my permission eh?” Tommy commanded with a resolute nod. All you could do was nod back as he rocked his hips against yours, his fingernails dug into your flesh as your walls squeezed his size. 

“Mr Shelby” you whined out. 

“You’re mine” Tommy growled animalistically as he leant in to bite your neck. “Only fucking mine. You wanted my attention? You fucking got it” he grunted as he rutted himself deep inside of you. 

Your eyes rolled back as you held onto your husband tightly as he drew blood from your neck. The pain dissolved as the pleasure quickly built up inside of your core. Your mouth had fallen open as you were moaning out shamelessly, Tommy slapped your ass and you squealed. 

“You’re clenching around me so tightly darling, you want to milk me empty eh? Get yourself pregnant?” Tommy asked, his own breathing heavy as he pounded himself into you. 

“Yes Mr Shelby!”

“Keep on squeezing me then, just like that” Tommy coached as his hips thrusted at an immaculate speed. “Maybe another baby in this house would keep you tamed. Let’s give Charlie a little brother or sister eh?” He suggested, a proud smirk on his lips.

All you could do was hum in compliance as you clenched around him. It was so slippery you had to hold your body in place. His balls were slapping against you as you felt your climax climbing as high as it could. The scream from your hot lips echoed throughout the room as you held onto Tommy for dear life. He grunted in response, and shortly followed through with his own climax. 

Your body fell dead on top of him as you tried to catch your breath back. Through deep breaths, your chest rose and fell as your eyes remained shut. Tommy breathed out, his hands caressed your lower back as he inhaled your scent. He was still buried inside of you, he could feel your fluids drip out slowly. 

“Fuck, that was something else, wasn’t it my love?” Tommy asked teasingly as he patted your rear. 

You whimpered, tear stained eyes as you looked up to your husband, he smiled softly to you, you smiled softly back. He guided your hips up, his coated cock slipped out of your swollen entrance with a pop and he helped you onto your feet. 

After he slipped his member back into his pants, Tommy guided you to bend over the bed, you winced as you followed through and he examined you. Down on his knees, Tommy pulled your lips apparent with two fingers as he watched your mixed fluids drip out of you. His hands caressed over your abused skin as he stood back up again.

“If only you could see how beautiful you look my dear” Tommy sighed, his voice dark and husky. 

He pulled you back up and held you in his arms, your flustered body caved against him. Your knees buckled as Tommy held your weak stance up, he murmured to you, his face rubbed against yours like a needy cat.  

“You wanna come down for the rest of the meeting?” Tommy hummed in the crook of your neck. 

The thought of you going back down there frightened you, the humiliation of this sudden occurrence felt too overwhelming. Having all eyes on you would cause you to have a breakdown without a doubt, you knew they heard you, your cries had echoed to the fields. 

“No Mr Shelby” you answered timidly, sniffling to yourself as you tried to cry silently. 

“That’s alright, you rest up, you look exhausted. I’ll come check on you later, I have some business to attend to after this, okay?” Tommy spoke innocently as he led you to the bed. 

Tommy helped you in, you winced at the friction of your rear to the sheets but made no comment to your husband’s kindness. The covers were tucked in around you, Tommy petted your hair to the side and smiled at you. 

“Thank you Mr Shelby” your smile shaked, cheeks still a dark shade of red. 

“Sleep well my love” Tommy whispered before he planted a tender kiss on your lips. 

It’s what you missed so badly, instinctively, your arms reached up from under the sheets and tried to snake around his back. But your body felt so weak, you couldn’t bring yourself up. Tommy hummed and pulled your body up, his hold on your lower back as the sheets slipped down your body already, his tongue slipped straight down your throat as your tongue massaged him. As you moaned directly into his mouth, Tommy pressed your faces together as he gently laid you back onto the bed. 

“I love you” you whispered once more as your head fell deep into the pillow, your tired eyes remained shut. A low hum echoed out of Tommy as you quickly fell asleep. 

Tommy walked back down into the reading room. He knew everyone had heard everything, his eyes locked with Arthur’s. As he shot him a glare, Arthur lowered his head submissively as Tommy continued on with his discussions and concerns to his family.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 2

Masterpost

Danny spends the next few days exploring the town more, while he considers the implications of everything he’d learned  at the library. He’d taken notes, but they’re not exactly the best. Danny’s never been that good at taking notes, after all, but he has a pretty good memory, so the various key words and few quotes he’d scribbled down are plenty useful in reminding him of all the wild shit he’d read about.

There’d been a lot of history involved in the whole meta situation. It seems like these so-called meta humans, and various other races (species? Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about the cultural implications of that) have been around long enough to have had a significant impact on the world at large. And yet, at the same time, there really hadn’t been a lot of personal information on any of the heroes. Oh, there’d been plenty on some of the villains - and of course there’d still be villains here, he’s not lucky enough to escape that - but aside from various speculation about their romantic lives, and a few acknowledgements of family ties here and there, there’d been very few details about where most of them actually came from.

Superman, for example (he seemed to be this world’s go-to example of metas and superheroes), is listed as being an alien, who’s powers come from his biologies unique interaction with this planet’s atmosphere, although it doesn’t explain anything about what that means. Interestingly, there seems to be almost no speculation about Superman’s so-called secret identity. Only about half the listed heroes seem to have one according to the public, but Danny knows that song and dance too well to fall for it. Honestly, they’re even more likely to have a secret identity than Danny himself, seeing as Danny’s alter ego is literally dead. Not that ghosts seem to be much of a thing here.

He’d felt so silly looking up information about ghosts, right before leaving the library. Compared to the deep dive into recent history, googling “are ghosts real” must have looked insane if anybody could see it. The answer he’d returned had been not unlike the way things had been when he was ten or twelve. Before the portal, you’d see dumb ghost hunter shows where they never actually saw much of anything. Ghosts were, like, poltergeists that moved your furniture around and slammed the doors shut. The results here had been a little more interesting - clearly in a world where superheroes are a fact of life, fantastical stuff is a little more rational, and the speculation was clearly affected by that fact, but it still had been, seemingly, all speculation.

Of course, none of that really mattered when it came to Superman. Danny was at least ninety percent sure he wasn’t a ghost. And even if he somehow was, it didn’t change the fact that he either has a secret identity, or he basically never takes part in society. And if he doesn’t have a secret identity, then the question very much becomes why not. Because that means he either has no real reason to care about anyone here (which seems implausible), or he’s unable to spend that time in public. It’s that possibility that’s knocked out any chance of Danny approaching any of the heroes. Because there’s always the possibility that the endorsed heroes are being used to lure other metahumans in. And Danny doesn’t know nearly enough about this world to make any kind of judgment on what’s most likely here. After all, historically there’s plenty of examples of governments that  work with specific people among targeted groups, in order to more successfully take out the others. it tends not to end well for those people when it’s all over, but anyone who’s short-sighted or even just backed into a wall enough can fall for that.

Hell, the GIW had actually tried that line on Danny once or twice, not that he’d ever accepted. After all, they’d never realized that was actually sort of alive, so their pitches had always been... less than convincing. 

Danny blinks, reaching out to touch the brick wall in front of him. He hadn’t meant to come back here, but honestly at this point, he really shouldn’t be surprised. This random little alley on side street wouldn’t be interesting at all to anyone else. But if Danny stares long enough, he can almost see the green-tinged light of the portal that brought him here. Not that he’d ever seen the portal from this side. He hadn’t turned to look until after the light had faded. The idea of seeing his friends’ faces through the swirling green had been too much.

They had all known exactly what it meant when he came here. The difficulty of the journey was the point. Between the anti-ecto acts gaining not just mainstream awareness, but support, and the GIW gaining access to better funding and training, well, the second the GIW had started successfully ending ghosts, it seemed like all the denizens of the zone had collectively decided to stay the fuck home.

At first Danny had enjoyed it, had relaxed and been excited to finally be able to focus on just being a teen. But the GIW hadn’t calmed down, had just started going even more on the offensive, and the second he and Jazz had noticed agents showing up casually at their house, everyone had gone into full alert.

That’s how they found out that the next goal was to apparently take the fight to the zone itself.

The conclusion had been easy from that point. The portal needed to be destroyed, and fast. But with the ghost zone blocked off (and Danny’s death being the unknowing link that made the portal ever work in the first place), that would leave Danny as one of three remaining targets.

They’d all immediately agreed that Vlad could figure out his own solution. Dani- well, she had been traveling, but the second she turned up, the others had made plans to send her on her own one way portal trip too.

Of course, the likelihood that she’d end up here is probably minuscule. So he’s alone.

“Hey,” a stern voice cuts through Danny’s thoughts. He glances over to the person who’s standing at the door to a building. “There’s no loitering here.”

Right. It’s almost easy to forget, in the face of his life’s inescapable absurdity, that to everyone else in this town, he just seems like a possibly-homeless delinquent. Not that the delinquent part is unfamiliar.

“Sorry,” Danny mutters belatedly, realizing that the person is just waiting as he stares at them like a weirdo. He’s not very good with people anymore. Not that he was that good to begin with. Phantom had been a Ghostly Menace, constantly destroying the town with his fights, nobody had expected him to function as a person. Nobody had thought he was a person. But as Danny Fenton- well, he’d fallen short of just about every expectation set at Danny Fenton’s feet.

Distantly he wonders if his friends even bothered to disguise his disappearance. He’d always kind of wondered if his parents would ever notice if he and Jazz just- left. School definitely noticed, though most of the faculty would probably take it as completely expected. After all Danny Fenton was a terrible student, constantly skipping class and never doing his work, and even when he was in class he was usually halfway to falling asleep anyways. Lancer had certainly lectured him about his lack of discipline more than enough. So they might just come to the conclusion that he’d dropped out and run away.

He doesn’t know if he’d prefer that, honestly. The truth is messed up and complicated and frankly, unbelievable. But maybe if they knew the truth at least one person might feel a fraction of sympathy for all the bullshit that he’d been dealing with. Funny, Danny thinks, how coming here feels more like a death than when I actually died.

[amirasainz]

Omg my queen. Can please write reader comforting Lando after today's race. I saw the story of the F1 Insta page where he was followed and he looked so annoyed.

Of course I can ♥️

Enjoy reading and send some requests

-xoxo, Babygirl 💋

In my arms

The sun was beginning to set over the Circuit of the Americas, casting a golden hue over the paddock. The buzz from the Austin Grand Prix was still in the air, but for Lando, it felt more like a suffocating cloud than a thrilling atmosphere. His 5-second penalty had cost him dearly, dropping him from a potential podium finish to a disappointing 4th place result. The frustration and disappointment twisted in his gut as he trudged back toward the McLaren hospitality area.

He’d barely made it a few steps when the media swarmed him like a pack of wolves. Reporters thrust microphones in his face, clamoring for his thoughts on the race, while fans crowded around, eager for a selfie or autograph. Lando tried to muster polite responses, but his voice was strained, his body language tense. The weight of the cameras and voices bearing down on him felt overwhelming.

“Lando! Do you think the penalty was fair?”

“How does this result impact your momentum for the next race?”

“Lando, over here! Can we get a quick interview?”

He could feel himself growing more tense by the second. The crowd pressed closer, and all he wanted was to escape. He kept walking, his pace quickening, but the reporters and fans followed him, their persistent demands ringing in his ears.

He spotted a small gap in the crowd and darted through, catching a glimpse of his girlfriend, Y/N, standing a little distance away, her back turned as she spoke with one of the McLaren staff. Relief washed over him like a wave. She was the one person who could calm the storm brewing inside of him. He broke away from the mob, pushing his way through with a few hurried apologies, and headed straight for her.

The McLaren team members had noticed his approach and stepped in to keep the crowd back, forming a barrier between him and the throng of people still trying to get his attention. As he got closer, Y/N still hadn’t noticed him, her focus on the conversation she was having.

Without saying a word, he reached out and grabbed her hand, spinning her around to face him. Before she could even react, he wrapped his arms tightly around her waist, pulling her into a firm embrace. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, his breathing ragged and uneven as he inhaled the soothing scent of her shampoo, the familiar lavender fragrance beginning to calm his frayed nerves.

“Lando?” Y/N’s voice was soft, surprise clear in her tone as her arms instinctively came up to wrap around his back. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer right away. His grip tightened around her, one hand moving up to cradle the back of her head, fingers tangled gently in her hair. He just needed to hold her, to feel the grounding comfort of her touch. The world around them seemed to fade; the voices of the crowd dulled, and all he could focus on was the warmth of her body against his.

She wasn’t used to him being so openly affectionate in public. Normally, Lando preferred to keep their relationship low-key, sharing a quick kiss on the cheek or holding hands when they were out in the paddock. This display, however, was something else entirely, and it startled not just Y/N but everyone around them.

But she could feel his desperation, the weight of his need for her comfort, and she instinctively responded by rubbing his back in soothing circles. “It’s okay, Lando,” she whispered, her voice barely audible to anyone but him. “I’m here. I’ve got you.”

He finally pulled back just enough to look at her, his eyes meeting hers, a mix of frustration and vulnerability in his gaze. “I just—” His voice cracked slightly, and he swallowed hard, trying to compose himself. “That race was… I just couldn’t get it right. The penalty… everything.”

Y/N’s heart broke a little at the sight of him like this. She gently cupped his face, her thumbs brushing over his cheeks. “You did the best you could, okay? That penalty wasn’t fair, but that doesn’t take away from how hard you fought out there. You’re still my superstar.” She gave him a small, encouraging smile, her voice steady and full of conviction. “You’ll come back stronger next time.”

He leaned into her touch, his eyes closing as he took another deep breath. Her words wrapped around him like a protective shield, easing the sting of his disappointment. The frustration that had built up in his chest started to loosen, replaced by a sense of calm he only ever found with her.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” he murmured, opening his eyes to meet her gaze again. His hand slid from her waist to cradle the side of her face as he leaned in, pressing a deep, desperate kiss to her lips. It wasn’t just a peck, but a kiss filled with everything he hadn’t been able to express—his frustration, his need for her, his gratitude.

Y/N returned the kiss, her hand curling around his neck as she tried to pour all her reassurance into the moment. She could feel the eyes of the people around them, but she didn’t care. Lando needed her, and she was there for him, regardless of who was watching.

When they finally broke apart, she pressed her forehead against his, her fingers gently raking through the hair at the nape of his neck. “Let’s get you inside,” she said softly. “You need some time to just breathe.”

He nodded, a slight smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Yeah… I think that’s a good idea.”

She took his hand in hers and began to gently guide him towards the McLaren hospitality, away from the lingering stares and the buzzing energy of the paddock. A couple of McLaren staff members stayed close, making sure the path was clear for them, while Y/N kept Lando’s hand securely in hers.

As they walked, she gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “You know, I’m still so proud of you,” she said, glancing up at him with a warm smile. “It’s easy to celebrate the good days, but it’s how you handle the tough ones that really shows your strength. And I think you handled today with more grace than you realize.”

Lando let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a genuine smile finally breaking through. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

She shrugged playfully. “That’s my job, isn’t it? Being the smart, supportive girlfriend.”

He chuckled softly, the sound lighter than it had been all day. “I’d say you’re overqualified.”

As they reached the entrance to the hospitality, Y/N turned to face him again, her hand resting against his chest. “Why don’t you go relax for a bit? I’ll bring you something to drink. Maybe even sneak you some snacks.”

“I think I’d like that,” he said, his voice tender. He leaned down and gave her one more kiss, softer this time, filled with quiet gratitude.

Y/N watched as he finally disappeared inside, her heart swelling with love for the man she’d just helped pick up off the ground. He was strong, yes, but even the strongest needed someone to lean on, and she was determined to be that someone for him, always.

As she walked back in, she could still hear the faint buzz of the media outside, but for the moment, everything was quiet. And for Lando, in the solace of the McLaren hospitality, it was enough.

[reasoningdaily]

The devastating impacts on reproductive rights and individual lives after the fall of Roe continue apace.

One study showed that as early as five years old, society perceives Black girls as “less innocent” and “more adult-like” than their non-Black counterparts, placing an unfair expectation on them to act more maturely.

The latest high-profile account to detail the gut-wrenching effects arrived in Time this week. The story—”She Wasn’t Able to Get an Abortion. Now She’s a Mom. Soon She’ll Start 7th Grade”—centers on Ashley, a 13-year-old girl from Mississippi who in the fall of 2022, according to her mother, was raped by a stranger in her yard.

The assault resulted in a pregnancy that she was unable to terminate because of the strict abortion bans in Mississippi and its bordering states, each enacted after the overturning of Roe. Ashley’s mother, Regina, told Time that she didn’t have the resources to take her daughter to the nearest clinic hundreds of miles away in Chicago.

This story, recounting Ashley’s trauma and highlighting the many systems that failed her, is an incredibly difficult read. But one line has especially stayed with me:

“One nurse came in and asked Ashley, “What have you been doing?” Regina recalls. That’s when they found out Ashley was pregnant.”

This is the question a nurse chose to ask when confronted with a Black child in clear distress, who had shown up to the emergency room unable to stop vomiting.  Not “What happened to you?” or “Are you okay?”

The nurse reportedly asked a 13-year-old child, “What have you been doing?” It’s hard not to see the suspicion and implicit blame in the question. That culpability, deployed with equal amounts of derision and judgment, is something that I and many other Black women and girls are all too familiar with. 

Victim blaming reaches people of all races. But Black girls stand at a uniquely horrifying intersection where both gender and skin color are weaponized against them.

One study showed that as early as five years old, society perceives Black girls as “less innocent” and “more adult-like” than their non-Black counterparts, placing an unfair expectation on them to act more maturely.

In 2017, Georgetown Law’s Center on Poverty and Inequality reported that participants in a study perceived Black girls as needing less nurturing, protection, and comfort than white girls. These virulent misconceptions, of course, can be traced back to historically racist stereotypes about Black femininity. GLCPI wrote:

“These images and historical stereotypes of Black women have real-life consequences for Black girls today. According to [Jamila] Blake and colleagues, “these stereotypes underlie the implicit bias that shapes many [adult’s] view of Black females [as] … sexually promiscuous, hedonistic, and in need of socialization.”

The results of this adultification are pervasive. Black girls are often punished more severely in schools and the criminal justice system than their white peers. The ripple effects can be found all over popular culture.

Huff Post’s Taryn Finley attributed this societal perception as a key reason why R. Kelly, whose accusers were primarily Black women and girls, was able to remain successful despite allegations of child sexual abuse surrounding him for several decades. And they can be found in questions like, “What have you been doing?”

Girlhood is a delicate period. It should be a time for crushes and school dances, not confronting the dark realities of misogyny and racism. It’s time for society to allow young Black girls to be girls, instead of forcing them into becoming women. Not ask, like the nurse in this story, “What have you been doing?”

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x Horner!Reader - Social Media AU

y/nhorner

Liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 273,816 others

y/horner waiting to get my wings

View all 529 comments

y/nbiggestfan come on red bull, give our girl her wings already!

y/nhornersupremacy i hate that the talent is right in front of them but they keep overlooking you! totally their loss

y/nhornersupremacy manifesting those wings for you soon! the grid is missing your fierceness

purplesector red bull or alphatauri would be crazy not to lock you down

womeninmotorsport the world needs more phenomenal female drivers like you ❤️

y/n4wdc the day is coming for those wings, i just know it

y/nhorner

Liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, and 1,395,627 others

y/nhorner i don’t care, i paint the town red

View all 2,894 comments

scuderiaferrari red is your color ❤️

charles_leclerc looks like we’ll be seeing a lot of each other 😉 welcome to the team!

y/nhorner can’t wait 🫶

gridgossip oh it’s about to go down! competing against daddy horner 👀

formulanone never call him daddy again 🥴

womeninmotorsport you go girl! time to show red bull what they missed out on

y/nbiggestfan so excited for you!

lewishamilton onwards and upwards 🙌🏾

y/nhorner thank you, lew!

formulanews red bull must be punching the air right now! y/n and ferrari are going to be a force to be reckoned with together

La Vendicata Revitalizes Ferrari

Maranello, Italy (15 July 2024) - Scuderia Ferrari is reinvigorated in 2024 thanks largely to the arrival of young British driver Y/N Horner. Dubbed “La Vendicata” (The Avenged) by the loyal Tifosi, Horner has made an immediate impact in her first season with the team and rookie season in F1.

Her commanding victories at the Austrian and British Grands Prix added to a consistent streak of podium finishes, establishing Horner as a rising star. Beating Red Bull, her father’s team, on their home soil was sweet revenge after being passed over for a seat.

But Horner’s influence extends beyond her own results. She convinced renowned race strategist Hannah Schmitz to make the jump from Red Bull and breathe new life into the famously questionable Ferrari strategy. Schmitz’s shrewd calls have helped optimize both Leclerc and Horner’s aggressive driving styles.

Additionally, Horner brought along several top designers and engineers from Milton Keynes to strengthen Maranello’s technical team. Her rapport with teammate Charles Leclerc has Ferrari targeting its first Constructors’ Championship and Drivers’ Championship in nearly two decades.

Team Principal Fred Vasseur praised Horner’s technical acumen and work ethic. “Her talent and confidence are matched only by her preparation and diligence. Y/N understands the car and motivates the team.”

The Tifosi have quickly embraced La Vendicata’s bold charisma and flair for the dramatic. With a title challenge in sight, she has brought fresh belief and energy to Ferrari. Still very much early in her career, her potential seems limitless.

Y/N Horner is out to show Red Bull what they lost by revitalizing the Prancing Horse. With La Vendicata and Il Predestinato leading the charge, Ferrari’s glory days may soon return.

y/nhorner

Liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, and 784,695 others

y/nhorner i still want your hands up on my body. you still make my heart beat fast, ferrari

View all 631 comments

leclerclover it’s definitely charles! i would know those arms and legs anywhere

trulytifosi i think her boyfriend is just being supportive and wearing ferrari merch

leclerclover no way, the body language is all there. it’s definitely charles!

f1wagupdates charles and y/n would be the dream team on and off the track

lightsoutferrari let’s not jump to conclusions, it could just be a random boyfriend. charles doesn’t have a monopoly on wearing ferrari branded clothing

scuderiay/n i know that nothing’s been confirmed yet but imagine if it is charles 👀 they would have so much chemistry together

monzamash i’m manifesting them so much

scuderiaferrari

Liked by y/nhorner, charles_leclerc, and 2,175,834 others

scuderiaferrari when your drivers take team bonding a bit too seriously

View all 2,906 comments

y/nhorner you told us that we should get close to each other so we did

scuderiaferrari as teammates, maybe friends. not close enough for the admin to be traumatized by finding you with each other’s tongue down your throats while i was just trying to get an espresso

charles_leclerc what can we say? we’re overachievers like that

maxverstappen1 so it’s okay when they do it but when i tried to kiss daniel for team bonding i got in trouble? make it make sense!

redbullracing it’s been seven years, let it go

maxverstappen1 no

ferraricentral clearly whatever they’re doing is working so no complaints here

[maryrouille]

Toxic romanticization of studying

In a word of introduction, my profile partly shows that studying and exploring is wonderful. But as a person involved in science*, I would like to show healthy and true patterns of this beautiful adventure in acquiring knowledge.

The inspiration for writing this post this time was not the phenomenon from Tumblr (although you can also observe it here), but from Pinterest. There you can come across cycles composed of quotes and photos whose aim is to motivate young girls to learn, succeed and get good grades. These images often also show examples of characters from movies, TV series or real life that you can aspire to be like. Overall, I have to agree that it really works! But I would like to draw attention to certain elements that need to be verified.

1. You shouldn't get up at 5am

First of all, the correct amount of sleep is one of the most important factors affecting the proper and effective functioning of our brain. During sleep, nerve cells regenerate, organize information acquired during the day and consolidate memory traces, which is directly related to learning. Lack of sleep increases impulsivity, deepens negative thinking and slows down the body's reaction time!

2. You can be a genius without good grades

Of course, good grades are a pleasant confirmation of our knowledge and praise for hard work. However, sometimes it is worth considering whether the structure of exams themselves, especially those with closed questions, affects the results. We often study for one specific exam, the knowledge of which may be very… limited and sometimes not useful, so it is worth prioritizing the topics that we study hard.

3. It's not cool to think you're better than others

We are different and have different priorities in life. It is also worth considering how many people escape from the rat race and start a slow, stress-free life. So we have to agree that judging people based on grades or responses under stress (sic!) is not cool.

The good thing about romanticizing studying

As I have already said, these types of collages are really motivating. So let's talk about what's great about them and what's worth highlighting and saving for later.

1. Knowledge is beautiful, but your outfit and surroundings can also be

We know that we should never judge a book by its cover, but… the issue of social perception painfully confirms that we do and will continue to do so because this is how our brains work. And isn't it nice when someone looks at us and thinks this girl is so classy?

Moreover, a nice outfit that makes us feel good gives us a lot of self-confidence. There are also many studies confirming the positive impact on motivation and concentration of a neat and aesthetic workplace.

2. Not just cramming, but also discovering

Broadening your horizons is easier with passion and real commitment. And to achieve this, the topics must really interest us. Not everyone has yet found something that they are extremely passionate about in science, so that is why you have to dig deeper and discover different areas.

3. Don't be afraid to use your knowledge in practice

Schools and universities, unfortunately, have their own rules and they do not always allow you to show your 100% potential. Thus, share your knowledge with others externally, write essays, blog and social media. This form of activity also makes you learn things faster and easier. In addition, contacts with others will expand your knowledge.

Therefore, I must say that it is worth choosing your inspirations carefully. Nothing helps you enjoy studying better than a clear head and lack of prejudices.

*This post was inspired by my own experience with studying. If anyone is interested, I think I can share my mistakes that did not help me in an academic adventure :)