#but I didn't expect it to be this effective

[katiascraft]

“If I define her I limit her” | CL16

Parings: Charles Leclerc x Actrees!Gf!Reader.

Summary: you go together to the Gladiator || premier because your best friend Paul Mescal invited you. You didn’t expect Charles being so sweet talking about you on interviews.

Word count: +1k.

Warnings: none! Just fluff and more fluff. Not a native English speaker so there could be (so many) errors. Not proofread.

Author’s note: I HAD TO DO IT. so I was inspired not only by Charles looking breathtakingly beautiful but from Chino Darin I LOVE THAT MAN 🫦 now I gotta go back to study UNLIVE ME Don’t forget to like, reblog, comment! And follow me so we can be friends :3 (and drink mate together!)

MASTERLIST

You were so excited to assist at the premier of the movie your fav person alive aka your bestie aka paul mescal was starring in. He invented the ferrari boys alongside you. Everything was so elegant - you were lucky enough to be wearing a high fashion valentino black dress - you felt a little intimidated like every time you stepped on a red carpet. Of course, you are an actress but still couldn't get used to this side that is part of your job.

Charles holded your hand gently at the red carpet while you were walking into the people circulating there. Behind you were Carlos and rebecca. But when you say Gracie - paul´s girlfriend - you part ways to say hi. Unfortunately Charles couldn't go with you because a reporter asked him and Carlos to join for a brief interview.

“Good evening, gentlemen. Looking good as ever i can see” the reporter said causing charles to giggle a little.

“What can I say ? We sweat all year so it's good to smell good once in a while,” Charles said, making the reporter laugh along with carlos. He asked a few generic questions about the break until the last three races of the championships and the invitation and expectations for the movie.

“So Charles, what's your favorite thing about london?” the reporter asked, making Charles smile but he didn't have to think about it.

“To be honest, my wife” he said grinning, making Carlos giggle a little looking at him. He has love written all over his face.

“How romantic, is she your wife already?” The reporter moved the microphone closer thinking he had breaking news. Charles laughed, nodding.

“I mean , not yet but she will, of course” he answered nervously and blushing like a little kid in love. That's the effect you had on him.

“How wonderful it is for you to say your favorite thing about London is your girlfriend. How would you define her as a person or professional?” the reporter was just as in love with him probably as you were.

“Oh well, if i define her i limit her to be honest. She is amazing at everything she does. As a person and as a professional” Charles answered without thinking. He couldn't define you, how could he? You were this huge force that made him feel things he didn't even know he could feel. You were so powerful in his eyes. Magical. He couldn't define you because defying you would be an actual crime. You're bigger than everything.

“Oh mate” Carlos expressed, making Charles giggle.

“What a lovebird, did y/n come with you?” the reporter continued.

“yeah yeah i don't know exactly where she is now but somewhere around here. We were invited thanks to her to be honest,” Charles explained.

“Lets see if we can find her in a minute.so carlos…” the interviewer followed with some questions around Carlos now. Charles listened to him but his mind was on you. He looked around looking for you just to see you. He spotted you after a few minutes talking lively with Grace and he smiled to himself. You looked so beautiful and happy.

You started going your way after a little chat with Gracie and found charles and carlos along with rebecca on a corner waiting for you. You walked across the carpet straight to them. When Charles saw you coming his face lightened up in adoration.

“Hey gang, let's go” you said happily, taking Charles hand in yours. So you found your way into the carpet. Flashes met you when you entered the photo section. You posed with Charles smiling for the cameras. Everyone screaming your names for your attention so they could get a picture of you. You still got nervous with this. But having him next to you just made everything better. You felt more relaxed. More secure and confident.

When you finished the photo section another round of reporters was set. This time you knew you couldn't escape. A reporter a few feet away from you called you so you looked at Charles to check if he wanted to join or wait but he confidently followed you along.

“Good evening guys, how are you feeling about tonight?” she asked firstly. You smiled. Charles let you answer he knew you were the star tonight. And also, this was not his element.

“We're excited. I'm anxious to watch the movie already. I know it's gonna be amazing” you said sweetly gently stroking charles hand with you to calm your nerves and his. It's probably the first time you are being interviewed together.

“y/n i dont know if you heard but charles” she started talking to you but then directed to charles “ you mentioned she was your wife and couldn't define her because i quote if i define her i limit her. She is just amazing in everything she does. y/n what do you have to say?” she asked you. You looked at Charles in a sweet simple surprise but flustered. Your thoughts all over the place and your cheeks turned red.

“Oh wow, what can I say? I have the best husband in the world that's for sure” you said proudly making him giggle. “And I can say I love him and I'm so glad he's here with me. But I couldn't define him either. He is everything and more to me” your answer made charles smile so proudly and fondly. His eyes went crystal looking at you. He was so in love with you. Just as you were. He was the love of your life and you loved that you could be yourself with him with no filters and this life that was as complicated as his.

“Oh wow, such lovebirds! You guys need to win couple of the year!” she said excitedly, making you both giggle and thanked her to start walking again.

“Babe you really said that? I want to cry, you can't be so cute. I love you with every fiber on my body. Stop being so perfect it should be a crime” you made him laugh looking at you so enamored.

“Of course, cherie. You are the most amazing person I know and I admire you so much. Im proud of you” he said to lean over you and kissed you gently.

“I love you charlie. You're the best that ever happened to me” you responded in his lips and giggled.

You will need to fix your lipstick before the next interview.

[whore-ratio]

when I started hrt, I was so incredibly unsure. every day I was wracked with doubt and anxiety. here was this gaping hole in my chest, which by my measure was only growing, and I expected one little pill every day to fix it somehow. I was doubtful, but when I talked to my trans friend about it, they said the same thing: they weren't sure at first.

they took theirs experimentally at first, just to figure out if it was what they wanted. they told me it was like a fog lifted. I felt very foggy. I decided to try it.

I live in a state where informed consent is the accepted model of treatment. I scheduled an appointment to consult about it, heard out the risks and benefits, and I was sure my doubt had been evident to my doctor. I was also sure it would disqualify me somehow.

she told me to see her again in a month. I booked my next appointment three weeks out.

at that appointment, she simply asked me if I understood the risks, benefits, and overall effects of estrogen. I told her I thought I did. she asked me if I wanted it, and I said the same. I was practically waiting for her to stop me, to tell me I had to be sure.

she wrote me a prescription and I picked it up the same day.

ESTRADIOL 2MG SUBLINGUAL TABLET

I left the pharmacy in disbelief. my pharmacist had usually said the name of my prescription to me when handing it over. she didn't say anything this time.

at home I sat staring at the bottle for a while before opening it. then I finally got out one tablet and placed it under my tongue. looking back, I'm sure I did it wrong. I didn't hold it there as long as I should have, and kept moving it around by accident.

I knew it wouldn't change me overnight, but I still somehow expected it to: to wake up with a different brain, one that could feel everything deeply rather than drifting through each day in a dreamlike state and drifting into dreamless sleep each night. of course this didn't happen. it wouldn't, either.

the next day I felt worse. with each passing day it continued, as my desperation grew for this little tablet to do something, anything to me. I just wanted a *sign*. something to me feel like I wasn't headed for the edge of a cliff anymore.

but I was on 2mg sublingual daily. a weak dose, one that achieves essentially nothing without an antiandrogen. I didn't really know what dosages meant at the time. even so, I was happy to have estrogen in my body.

wait.

*I was happy to have estrogen in my body.*

even without knowing what it was doing, without seeing any of its effects, just by beginning to take them, I had already realized that I wanted to keep going. I wanted to keep putting estrogen in my body, and as soon as I began to understand levels and dosages, I wanted more.

several times I asked my doctor to increase my dose ahead of the recommended schedule, and each time she obliged, remarking that while it could be risky, my mental state was the more important consideration and it was ultimately up to me.

so I kept going up, always just a bit ahead of the curve. soon I was at the maximum safe dose on tablets. soon after, I switched to injections (I'm now on 6mg estradiol valerate per week) and started progesterone. I have never been happier.

there were many stages where I fully expected doctors to refuse to prescribe me, or change my prescription for, estrogen. I expected them to tell me I wasn't ready to make that decision, that I could only know with more therapy, or that I at least had to be able to tell them I wanted it without a hint of doubt in my voice.

but that's only because it's what I kept hearing from everyone else: that it's a decision to take extremely seriously, one with irreversible consequences.

but all it took was one tablet with far too small a dose to be effective, and already I was sure. maybe I always had been.

remember that while nobody chooses which hormone their body produces, they are *always* changing you irreversibly. the question to ask is not "am I really certain I want estrogen?", it's "do I like the idea of this better than staying on testosterone?" and if you still can't answer that but are curious, it's perfectly fine to just try it.

not every place has informed consent, but they should. if they don't, never be afraid to lie to doctors in order to get what you want. remember, the barriers to HRT were not put in place because of genuine medical concern, but because of transphobia. you deserve better, so do whatever you have to to get your hands on it, even just to try it, even if you're not sure. your body probably knows what it wants.

for whoever needs to hear this:

starting HRT doesn't have to be a huge momentous all-or-nothing decision. you can just try it like you would an antidepressant you've been informed of the risks of.

there won't be any immediate irreversible changes overnight. you can always stop, change your dose, change your delivery system, decide it's not the right time. you can even microdose if you want to.

you don't have to tell anyone. you don't have to announce it if you don't want to.

stop waiting for a perfect time in your life because it won't come.

stop waiting to reach a mythical level of certainty that never comes to anyone, for anything.

you've been thinking about it long enough. if you have the opportunity, just give it a shot. you're worth the courage it takes to make a change in your life.

[eyesonlybutterflies]

𝘑𝘢𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘩𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘧𝘳𝘰𝘮 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺

𝓹𝓪𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: idol!Jay x fem!reader

𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓬𝓸𝓾𝓷𝓽: 1.6k words

𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽 𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰: smut, needy Jay, sleepy reader, consensual, oral (m and f receiving), orgasm denial, Jay and reader calling Jay 'daddy', pet names (darling, dear, baby), manhandling, unprotected sex, overstimulation, p in v, neck biting, marks, filthy, rough, little bit of aftercare

𝓐/𝓝: Hi guys! This is my first ever post and first smut fanfic ever so I hope y'all enjoy it! (I know I said idol!Jay but it's not rlly an important detail)

𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓭

The door slams behind Jay's tall, but tired body. After spending an entire day practicing and trying not to lose his mind from the other 6, all he wants is to fuck you into oblivion. His entire commute home he just imagined shoving your face in the pillow with your pretty ass up in the air for him to destroy.

Jay is a gentleman, but tonight he just can't seem to hold it in.

As he enters you guys' appartment, he sees all the lights on, but no y/n. He first thinks you fell asleep on the couch, as you often do whilst waiting for Jay to come home, but when he sees the bedroom door ajar with a very dim light on he realises you've already gone to bed.

Something inside of him snaps. Jay takes pride in the fact he can remain gentle with you. His dirty thoughts often not preformed in fear you'll be disgusted by it. However seeing you laying peacefully in bed, phone next to you presumebly falling asleep sooner than you anticipated, he just couldn't it in anymore.

He drops his bag and makes a beeline to your shared bedroom. He pulls down his pants, not fully, but enough to let out his hard, throbbing cock. He grabs you by your hair and puts your mouth all the way down his dick.

You wake up and in your sleepy haze, you don't know what's going on, but when you look up with your innocent eyes into Jay's eyes, you relax. Jay doesn't move your head. He's just cockwarming himself with your mouth, seemingly calming down with just this.

However, you're starting to get a little horny and want more action than just cockwarming him. So you slowly start moving your head up and down.

Jay pulls out and with his other hand he grabs your jaw, forcing you to look up to him. His eyes filled with something you've never seen before in him. He's both seems desperate, mad and horny out of his minds. You think its kind of hot and you start rubbing your thighs together to get some friction.

'Stop that,' Jay finally end the silence between you. You don't stop, 𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘑𝘢𝘺, 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘥𝘰? Oh how wrong you were. His hand that was previously holding your hair shot down to one of your thighs, holding to one side whilst he lifts his foot to hold down your other thighs so you have no way of rubbing them together anymore.

The shock on your face excites him, 'didn't expect that, darling?' He asks with a smirk. You don't move, say or even go as far as to change your facial expression. Jay is showing a side of him he's never shown, and you actually find it very attractive.

When you stay still like a prey caught in the hands of their predator, he starts to squeeze his hand on your jaw, forcing your mouth open. When you comply Jay gathers his spit and slowly lets it fall from his mouth into yours.

'Good girl.' He says. You're sure you've become the Niagara falls with the way he's treating you, finding it even more hot than when he's gentle and putting your pleasure above his.

Once Jay notices his effect on you and how you've become pathetic and desperate, he grants you a kiss. It's slow, wet and filthy, and you want so much more of that. He pulls back and his hand on your thigh travels back to the back of your head, guiding you to his cock. His tip now completely covered with precum.

He starts both pushing you head down on his dick and fucking your mouth. The only noise coming from your room is you gagging. Jay has to hold himself back, because this view of you, chocking on his cock, not allowed to touch yourself, looking up at you with tear filled eyes, it's got him on edge and he feels like if he lets loose for one second he's gonna explode in your mouth.

After he is pleased with the way you're taking him, he moves down on you and takes off your pyjama pants and panties in one motion. The cold air hits your wet pussy and you squeek a little. Jay looks up one time, with fucked out eyes already, before he dives into his late night snack.

The way he's teasing your cunt has you moaning his name on a level you normally wouldn't use, but with how horny you are, how hot Jay looks and the still sleepy haze you're in has you absolutely unhinged.

'Fuck Jay, oh my fucking god that's it,' He thrives on your moans, he's circling your clit even faster, pushing his tongue deeper in your hole. 'Shit I'm gonna- Ah fuck!' Jay knows you're about to come and right before you reach your climax, he backs up, not touching you in any way, shape or form to avoid accidentally making you cum with any kind of touch.

You squirm and shake and Jay is smiling at you like a devil, enjoying seeing you both already overstimulated and being denied pleasure. When you finally have the strength to look at him you almost want to slap him, he knows how desperate you are for your release and he just fucking denies it.

'That's what sluts get when they go to bed before waiting for daddy to come home,' He says with a tint of darkness in his eyes, as if he can't wait to fuck you into another universe and deny another orgasm.

In your entire two year relationship you've never called Jay daddy, so you're a little taken aback when he calls himself daddy.

'𝘍𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘯𝘯𝘢 𝘣𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵.' Is the only thing you can think before he pulls you down the bed before flipping you onto your stomach. He manhandles you into doggy before lining himself up with you and slamming into you without any warning.

The noises you make are pathetic and so dirty and you're loving every bit of this side of Jay. You have difficulty keeping up with everything as he's slamming his long and thick cock all the way into your pussy every single time at high speed.

As you feel your high coming again, your pussy clenches tightly around him with you whimpering into the bed sheets. 'You like this dick so much, baby?' You can hear the smugness in his voice. 'Yes yes, love it aah' 'C'mon baby, say it.' 'Yes daddy, love it.' You barely manage to get out.

'Fuck that's my girl,' is the last thing you hear before you're engulfed by the pleasure of the orgasm, almost screaming his name. 'Holy shit that's so tight,' Jay says before he throws his head back and shoots white ropes of his cum into your pussy. He keeps pumping into you as you both ride out your orgasms.

After you both finish, you think it's over. You're tired, overstimulated and just want to cuddle your boyfriend.

Yet your boyfriend seems to not be done with you yet. Having fucked his frustrations out, he's a little bit more gentle. He guides your hips to turn around so he can look you in the eyes. 'Mmh you did so well baby, taking all of me like it was nothing,' You smile, still lightheaded. 'You ready for round 2?' You nod, not fully realising you just said yes to getting railed again.

This time he's gonna make you take all of him in missionary, kissing you before entering. But the gentleness didn't last long before he starts speeding up. Both of you start moaning in each others mouth, sweat mixing up as he presses his forehead against yours. 'Fuck daddy I can't.' 'Yes you can baby,' He knows you're overstimulated, he can feel your pussy throbbing and clenching onto his dick like your life depends on it, but he doesn't care. He needs to cum again.

The thrusts start to get deeper. He's going so deep he's hitting your cervix. You jolt as you feel him hitting that spot. With your neck so exposed, he starts to kiss and bite your neck, biting and sucking so hard he's leaving marks on your neck. 'Mine.' He says in a very deep voice, almost animalistic.

Your head is in a completely different place, the only thing you are on this earth is a moaning mess and Jay is loving every moment of it. Both of you start climbing to your climax again as Jay doesn't stop fucking you into oblivion and you don't stop being a tight hole for him.

'Daddy I'm gonna cum please let me cum.' You blurt out, not caring how pathetic you sounds calling your boyfriend daddy and begging him to cum.

'Cum for me, angel.'

That sends you over the edge. Your legs are shaking, breath hitching, eyes rolling back. The view of you completely crumbling under his touch makes Jay cum so much harder than the first orgasm. He's moaning your name whilst sloppily trying to maintain his speed. He keeps pumping until he can see his cum drip out of your pussy. That sight makes him almost hard again.

𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘹 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘵𝘸𝘰 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥

Jay pulls out of you, brings you up to his chest and hugs you tightly. 'Sorry baby, was I a bit too rough?' 'No oh my god that was so fucking hot.' He grins widely, very happy with himself.

'Let's get you cleaned up, dear.' You nod as he leads you to the bathroom where he fills up the bathtub. You eventually lay together, lazily washing each other, not saying much but both still riding on your highs and enjoying each others company.

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝! <𝟑

[rizsu]

ꪆ୧ ── WISH UNATTAINABLE ┊ A MERE DREAM ﹑ HSR ⤿ starring: boothill ◟ sunday ◟ dr. ratio.

꒰ a player's mission ﹢ ding! quest(s) unlocked. to obtain a reward of 100 stellar jades, knock yourself out with missions involving your favourite! don't get caught up in the dream though.

𖧷 · love, ‘su: i clearly had an idea & needed to jot it down before i forgot about it (old draft i wrote when i js was fresh into hsr bear w me 😢)

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ siobhan’s revealed that someone's here for you, insisting for you to not be a killjoy and come meet him.

“drink's on me sweetheart, knock ya'self out,” boothill slides the cocktail at you, giving his signature smirk as its free side dish.

you're not quite sure what you expected, but boothill being a bartender wasn't one of them. actually — it's believable when you think about it.

when siobhan sent you those messages, your mind went to either gallagher or aventurine. (un)fortunately, your guess was wrong. you are now a taste-tester and subjected to subtle flirting? a win is a win.

boothill puts a hand on his hip. he mixed the drink gracefully with siobhan's aid, it's bound to be perfect — hopefully.

“what's it called?” you asked, turning the glass around to appreciate the red and orange ombre. it reminds you of someone, but you can't put a finger on it.

“didn't think that far into it.” he shrugs. “you can name it, sweetheart.”

“i can name it sweetheart?”

“no, i meant... well, why the fuck not.”

you're sure you heard a disappointed sigh from him. maybe it's the alcohol? whatever, it tastes good. the drink's sweet, but it leaves a bitter aftertaste — if that makes sense. it's so sweet that you keep sipping, yet it's so bitter that you're reminded it's alcohol and not juice. a perfect balance.

gently placing the glass down, you slid it towards boothill, “another glass please, gentleman.”

“right away, darlin’,” he accepts your request, refilling your glass with the sweetheart special. this time, he adds a little edible glitter in the mix to spice up the aesthetic.

the glass is once again slid back to you. the only difference is a shine to the liquid. the new beauty to it can make even argenti fall to his knees to worship it (he worships anything beautiful).

“it's so good i can kiss you for it,” you mindlessly reply, licking your lips from the excess liquid.

goodness, do you want him to overheat? is the way to defeat a galaxy ranger a compliment without thought put into it?!

“pfft— uh— well—” he sputters, unable to form a proper sentence yet.

a few coughs later, he regains his ability to speak, “it's just that good ain't it, darlin’?”

“you're the best and i need you in the express to make fifteen of these,” with desperation in your voice, you lean over to hold his hand. it's cold, but not cold enough to make you back away.

“i'll be right with ya!”

THE INTERPRETATION OF DREAMS ⟡ you received an anonymous message urging you to come to penacony. it felt like a scam, but the messages were too prim and proper to be one.

hmm, something isn't right. you can feel it in your bones. either you're experiencing side effects of being on cleaning duty, or you're being hunted down. has your excellence finally exceed you to the point where you've appeared on someone's hitlist? maybe.

staring at the message on your phone, you squint at it before moving your head away. you must be careful or else you'd be affected by its ominous energy.

there's only one logical decision to make: find dan heng and let him decipher a possible hidden code in the messages.

“dan heng, i need you!” you exclaimed, opening his room's door with a force that should only be reserved for battles.

“did you clean your manners out too?” sighing, dan heng closes the book he's reviewing.

“i think i'm being kidnapped,” ignoring his snarky comments, you enter his room, showing him the pile of messages.

> Hello, (y/n). I trust that you've been well during your trips.

> Have you decided on whether you'll return to Penacony? If not, I hope that you come soon.

> There is something I wish to do with you.

> Meet me at The Reverie Hotel 10 system hours from when you reply. I shall accompany you directly instead of a regular staff.

> That is all. I'll keep the conversations for our meeting.

you shake your head, hugging your body in attempts to shield yourself.

“see! there's no way that isn't someone out to get me.”

dan heng falls silent. clearly, this is someone you've met before, but who? they haven't left any name, let alone a profile icon. there's only one way to find out and that's to reply.

“hand me your phone, i'll reply.”

...

have you been deceived? is dan heng in on this too? why would he reply? suspicion dominates over you. you slowly back away from his side.

“damn... they really do say your enemies are close.”

“that's now how it... whatever. just give me the phone so i can ask for their identity.” his tone's laced with disappointment. he's not surprised, but boy was he wrong for thinking you matured.

being left with no other choice, you surrender your phone and safety to him.

< Sorry, who are you?

< I'm sure we've met though.

“they're typing...” he mutters, leaning into your side so you can see the screen too.

> My apologies. I forgot to set my account.

> This is Sunday, head of the Oak Family.

“sunday?!”

“sunday!?”

this time you both were taken by surprise. out of everyone in penacony that would've sent you a text, he was the least expected. dan heng shoots you a pitiful look. he's pretty sure sunday's still on your hitlist.

“i am not going.”

“it's rude to ignore someone's request.”

“dan heng,” you began, folding your arms across your chest, “you can't make me go.”

in response dan heng simply nods. he walks out his room and into the main area. you're not sure what he did, but he came back to you lounging on his bed in five minutes.

you were already comfortable, with one knee up and a foot on the knee. you expected him to come back, but not with a trusted adult.

“are you serious?”

“himeko, (y/n)'s ignoring someone's request to meet.”

one corner of his mouth moves up. he knows he won this battle. snitching is the way to go, always.

and that's how you're now standing besides sunday. all stiff with nervous laughs, praying to whichever aeon that he doesn't use the telepathy punishment thing on you. it's game over and restart if he ever dares to.

sunday's as poise as ever — with a hand behind his back, he observes the view of oti mall below. it's bustling with life; the noise is enough to do all the talking. truly a one-sided comfortable silence.

“so... how's life been, sunday?” you tread carefully with your question and behaviour. you don't even make eye contact.

sunday smiles slightly, “it's been busy as ever. this is probably the only moment of peace in my schedule.”

and it's silent again. how do you continue a conversation with a bigshot? you ran your mouth with the supreme guardian of belobog but god forbid you're with the head of the oak family. scary.

cold sweat drops. you have got to keep the conversation going or you'll lose your mind in seven minutes.

“been getting into gambling with the slot machines lately. what about you?”

perfect. ten out of ten. a penacony-related addiction.

“i see you've picked up that ipc stoneheart's behaviour.”

okay, maybe it wasn't that perfect. and was that disappointment?!

it's silent again. you steal a glance of sunday and it did not help. he has a relaxed expression on his face. his chest rising and falling with every breath. is he truly comfortable with the silence? you're dying here.

a sigh leaves you. why not just speak your mind.

“to be honest, it's a little uncomfortable being so silent. i feel like i'm being watched by that large eye in the mall.”

sunday's head turns, his expression slightly changes.

“apologies, i did not notice. would you like to take a walk together?” he suggests, holding his palm out to you.

you place your hand in his, trying to hide the smile. you're finally going to do something instead of standing like an npc.

“yeah, sure.”

after your approval, you basically re-toured penacony. he even took you to his office. that's not even the biggest part. the huge wow factor here is that you were hand-in-hand with him. yes, hands intertwined with the most handsome man in penacony. someone should be jealous.

although his hand was gloved it still counts. the gloves are thin anyway — it was basically skin contact. had you known beforehand that sunday's hand was this manly you wouldn't have even complained to dan heng.

COSMIC SPLENDOR AND MERITED PRAISES ⟡ herta bothered you to return to her station, insisting that she needs your help. you reluctantly agreed, but didn't expect to meet the doctor you've been hitting on.

> Come. I need to experiment on you.

< Excuse me?!?

> Aeon stuff.

< Which Aeon is it?

< Herta?

< Hellooooo... Anyone there...?

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

< You've got to be kidding me.

> [Automatic reply] Hi, I'm currently unavailable, and won't be contacting you later.

a heavy sigh leaves you. new day, same old herta demanding your presence and going off the net. well, it's been a while since you've revisited herta's space station, and it doesn't hurt gaining new knowledge on aeons. hopefully it'd be quick... and that screwllum's there as well. out of the three, screwllum's the sole one that's gentle.

once you stepped foot in her office, you stepped right back out. seeing someone you've been avoiding to reply to their messages certainly isn't a good thing. the chances of the man you were testing your charisma on being with herta is low — incredibly low — but never zero.

“come here, (y/n).” a voice filled with authority calls for you who's standing to the side of the door.

you purposefully chose that position; since the doors are automatic, they'd immediately open if you were directly in front of it.

“no, thanks!” you yelled, preferring to stay where its safe from confrontations.

inside the office, herta folds her arms. the clock is ticking, and she doesn't want to lose interest before she can glimpse the secret of at least one aeon.

“just go get her. what're you standing there for?”

with a tone as blunt as that, ratio feels slightly offended, but he can't argue. she's right, he can simply bring you back inside the office.

confidentally walking towards the door, he steps out and immediately turns his head left. it was as he calculated: you were right there leaning against the wall, trying your best to act nonchalant while ignoring his obvious presence.

“don't act childish.” disappointment laces his voice, his folded arms shows it, too.

“whatever do you mean, doctor?” you smiled.

ratio's having none of it. he moves his position to stand in front of you, forcing you to look at him instead.

“your behaviour then and now is childish. get back in the office.”

“cut me some slack! do you think the courage i have over text translates to real life?” your defenses raise, poking his chest to enforce your point. “you're intimidating and handsome, dude. give me a break.”

a silence follows. the kind of silence that indicates you said something you definitely should've kept as a thought. nervously, you move your eyes to look at ratio's. the eye contact doesn't last long — like you said, he's intimidating (and handsome).

“tell me something i don't know.” ratio breaks the silence, grabbing your finger off his chest. “but that's not the point here, is it? we have something to do.”

mood: ruined. it's common knowledge to anyone who's been in a conversation with ratio that he's well aware of his visuals. compliments are nothing new to him — it's a shame he didn't act the way he did in your daydreams.

“gosh, you're so annoying.” a voice of defeat.

grumbling, you straightened your posture, making your way back to herta's office. ratio followed behind, observing the you walked. has someone walking always been attractive, or is it just because it's you? a question that he'll be pondering on until he finds a suitable answer.

“hey. you guys took too long. i don't wanna do it again,” herta complains the second she saw you two walk in.

[pomefioredove]

I'm not sure exactly which day counts as "weekend" bc of cultural differences lol but you can ignore this if it's not on the permitted day!!

But for the brief Rollo x reader thing that's you're doing, can I please have something with him and a reader that is generally very tactile? One day they grab his hand to pull him somewhere as they absentmindedly ramble, and they don't realize it until he speaks up about it (or not....? <w<)

hii anon!! ofc this is a very cute request

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ cold hands

type of post: short fic characters: rollo additional info: platonic or romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is yuu

Winter in Fleur City is as unkind as it is beautiful.

Autumn's colorful embrace was short and sweet, giving you but three weeks of cozy, lukewarm mornings before the trees were bare and bending in the breeze that carried along the Soleil.

The first snow of the winter season had completely frozen over the river.

It had also kissed everything in frost, blanketed the streets, and canceled classes at Noble Bell College for the morning. It was heavy and restless.

It became no wonder to you that the people of Fleur City were eager to put up their tinsel and candles. The smell of cinnamon and pine is an effective distraction from the icy wind, after all.

And so, without classes to attend to, you find yourself walking through the city on crushed snow, already muddy with boot prints and animal hooves, to a seasonal cafe which had just opened.

Oh, and the Student Council President has offered to escort you.

It's, apparently, quite an ordeal; the few Noble Bell students you pass by in the streets stop mid-snowball fight or nearly drop their to-go coffees from their mittens when they see you, bundled up in Rollo Flamme's scarf, walking hand-in-hand.

You honestly hadn't even noticed you had grabbed him. It had been somewhat of an impulse, your cold, undressed hands feeling out for something to hold.

And usually, that would have been a quill, or one of those artisanal wooden blocks this city so loves, just something to run your thumb over while you think, not the Student Council President's hand.

But he doesn't say anything, and, more presently, doesn't pull away.

"You really ought to have dressed warmer," Rollo says, fussing over the scarf he'd given you off his own neck. "You'll catch something, and missing class over a frivolous venture such as is unacceptable."

"I suppose I didn't think of it,"

"Then next time," he says. "I don't know what I would do with myself if you were ill. It's the busiest time of year."

Right. Finals are coming up.

"I won't do it again,"

He sighs. "I know. Now, come along. Morning classes may have been dismissed, quite unnecessarily, I might say, but we'll both be expected on campus at noon,"

His hand tightens around yours, and his pace becomes brisker, cutting through the myriad of tourists and laughing children and pigeons. He shields you from the falling snow and blistering wind, holding you behind him until you reach the cafe.

It's bustling and loud inside, busier than the annual cafes you're used to visiting, but Rollo somehow has you in and out with a warm drink and a pastry in no more than five minutes.

You have the treat outside, your hands already cracked from the dry cold in the air, and once you've finished he slips his hand into yours and begins walking again.

There's not much conversation. Rollo is a strange man; some days, he's happy to talk about the history of Fleur City or what he's studying in Noble Bell's prestigious law class, and some days he's like this. Quiet.

His hand is surprisingly warm, though, despite the cold he seems to maintain a high body temperature all on his own. He runs a thumb over the back of your hand, feeling the dry skin there.

"You're freezing,"

"I'm okay,"

"Honesty is a virtue," he snaps, his sharp way of reminding you that he can always tell when you're lying, and he doesn't like it.

"You'll catch your death of cold. And then what would I do?"

For a fleeting moment, you can swear he gets a little warmer; or, at least, his hand does. You must be imagining things.

The silence lingers like the cold in the air, but, finally, he gets you to start talking about your favorite class subject, which you do until you've reached the gates of the school.

Rollo stops you, bids you an overly formal good-bye, and takes his hand, too, leaving you with the cold.

Hm. He seemed so off today. You wonder what that could be?

You won't realize that you'd been holding his hand all morning until later, but for now, you're content with the mystery and the warm scarf he left on your shoulders.

[whumpbby]

I cannot stand the "he should have just told SJ the truth!"

And I have to ask, how?

How was he supposed to speak of it? Of the darkest, most traumatic time of his life? He was shattered and locked up in a cave to heal by himself . He screamed for help to no effect. He was expected to either die or get better, and no one cared to step in.

Like, if you think about for one moment, you kinda realise that Luo Binghe had it easy in the Abyss.

How could Yue Qi even approach the subject?

The whole thing left him so traumatised that his whole character changed. He became stoic and removed and afraid to step into situations, because that's what lead to the whole tragedy unfolding in the first place. He didn't grow up or matured into a more steady person, he forcefully changed his character to never risk the situation repeating.

How could he even begin telling that to Shen Jiu?

In that Qijiu ask, I think you're right about how YQY's shizun must've been extremely detached emotionally, and probably encouraged the same in YQY. I remember what he says during his confession, about how "nobody was willing to actually listen to what I was begging for; nobody was willing to let me out..." That line paints his shizun in a pretty damning light to me.

Yeah. Like, just because YQY doesn’t show his rough edges as SJ does, doesn’t mean he doesn’t have them. Yue Qingyuan to me sometimes gives off the vibes that his rough edges were forcefully sanded down and it hurt. 

[d-z20]

Heavy Hits, Soft Touches

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You meet your rival, Rio Vidal, in the MMA championship ring, both of you determined to prove you're the best. Years of tension and unspoken chemistry finally come to a head in a brutal fight that leaves you both bloodied and bruised. But when the crowd fades and you're left alone in the locker room, you discover that maybe you've been fighting something else all along

- OR -

You and Rio have it out in the octagon but are flirting the whole time (MMA AU)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of violence/fighting, hurt (physical), angst, comfort, implied smut

Words: 2.9k

A/N: This fic is based on this request. No smut, but I am more than happy to create a fic that details just how you spent the night wrapped up in each other if literally even one person asks... update someone asked so expect the smut out soon

Have a gander over to AO3

The locker room is quiet now, the echoes of the cheering crowd fading into the background. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing blood smeared across your cheek, the bruise blossoming under your eye. You press a towel to your split lip, but the sting doesn't bother you as much as it should. Not when your thoughts are still wrapped up in her. In Rio Vidal

Your rival. Your equal. The woman who's been your greatest challenge and your biggest distraction for years now. From the moment you stepped into the MMA circuit, she was there, always one step ahead, always pushing you harder than anyone else. You've faced each other in the octagon before, trading victories in matches that never failed to make headlines. The press loved to play up your rivalry, spinning stories about how much you hated each other. But the truth? You didn't hate her. You respected her. Maybe a little too much, because with that respect came an attraction you couldn't shake, an unspoken chemistry that lingered every time you met her gaze.

The problem was, Rio knew it too. She knew exactly what kind of effect she had on you, and she wasn't above using it to her advantage.

You had just faced her in a non-title match to drum up excitement for the championship in a few weeks. It might not have been the final tonight, but with the way you both fought, it could as well have been. You could still remember the way she'd looked at you right before the third and final round, her gaze burning into yours, a smirk pulling at her lips as if she knew she had you right where she wanted.

The crowd's cheers had faded into a dull roar in your ears; all you could hear was your own breathing, the pounding of your heart, and her voice cutting through it all.

"Don't look so tense, sweetheart," she drawled, her smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

You glared at her, wiping the sweat from your brow. "In your dreams, Vidal."

She chuckled, low and dark. "Oh, you're always in my dreams."

Before you could respond, she lunged forward, throwing a punch that you barely dodged. The crowd erupted as you countered with a hook to her ribs, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she grinned, her eyes lighting up with something almost feal. She liked this—you could tell. She liked the challenge, liked the way you pushed back against her.

You exchanged blows, neither of you holding back. Her fists hit like a freight train, and she was relentless, forcing you back against the cage. She pinned you there, her forearm pressed into your throat just hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. Her face was inches from yours, her smirk maddeningly cocky.

"You're not tapping out on me, are you?" She taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "I thought you were tougher than this."

You gritted your teeth, shoving back against her with all your strength. "I'm not tapping out," you snapped, your voice a harsh rasp. "Not to you."

"Good," she purred, leaning in closer. "I'd be disappointed if you did."

You twisted out of her grip, slamming your elbow into her side. She grunted, stumbling back, but she was smiling. It was almost like she was enjoying the pain, like every hit was a game to her. You went at each other harder, trading punches and kicks that left you both bruised and bloodied. You managed to land a brutal uppercut that caused her head to snap back, and for a second, you thought you had her.

But then she was on you again, sweeping your legs out from under you. You had hit the mat hard, the air knocked out of your lungs, and before you could recover, she straddled you, pinning your wrists above your head.

"Gotcha," she breathed, her grin wide and predatory. She was bleeding from a cut above her eyebrow, her lip split, but she had never looked more alive. "Still think you can beat me, sweetheart?"

You struggled under her, but she had you locked down. You could feel the strength in her grip, the way her body pressed against yours, and it had sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much you had liked that—how much you had liked her like that.

In the end, she won. Barely. A split decision that had the crowd on their feet, the commentators buzzing about how you'd almost had her. Almost. She'd helped you up in a rare moment of sportsmanship, her hand lingering in yours longer than it needed to. "Better luck next time," she'd said, her voice low, challenging you.

You'd stared at her, every muscle in your body screaming in protest, but you'd nodded. Because you knew. The championship title was coming.

-

Tonight was finally the night. The championship fight—the one that would decide it all. The culmination of everything you've worked for, everything you've fought for. Five gruelling rounds, each more brutal than the last. You'd both won this title before, but you'd never faced each other in the finals. It was the match everyone had been waiting for, the one that felt like it was written in the stars. And you were going to fight like it too, like there was nothing outside that cage but the two of you.

The announcer's voice booms through the arena, introducing you both as the crowd roars. You barely hear it; your focus is entirely on her. She looks as fierce as ever, her dark hair tied back, a cocky grin plastered on her face as she rolls her shoulders, shaking out her arms. She knows the cameras are on her, knows the crowd is eating it up, and she loves it.

"You ready for this sweetheart?" She taunts, her voice carrying over the noise. "Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone."

You smirk, stepping forward into the centre of the octagon. "I'm not the one who should be worried."

The referee goes over the rules, but you're not listening. You're too busy staring her down, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as you wait for the bell. It's the longest few seconds of your life, but then it sounds, and you're off.

The first round is brutal. You both go straight for it, no holding back. You know each other's styles too well; there's no feeling-out process here. She throws a quick jab, and you slip to the side, countering with a hook that catches her on the cheek. Her head snaps back, but she barely flinches, her grin widening like she's enjoying it.

"Nice hit," she breathes, ducking under your next punch and driving her knee into your ribs. It knocks the wind out of you, but you don't back down.

You grapple with her, twisting her into the cage. "Save your flirting for later," you grit out.

Her eyes flash, and she shoves you off with surprising strength, spinning you around and slamming you into the mat. She's on top of you in an instant, her hand gripping the back of your neck as she leans down, her breath hot against your ear.

"Why wait?" She purrs.

The bell rings, saving you from whatever comeback you were going to throw at her. The ref separates you, and you both stand, chests heaving, staring each other down with a wild intensity.

The second round starts off even more aggressive than the first, both of you refusing to back down. Your body is already aching, each movement a reminder of the last time you had fought, but you pushed through the pain. You can't afford to show weakness—not to her.

She lands a sharp jab, then a right hook that rattles your skull, forcing you to stumble back. Before you can react, she's on you, driving you into the cage with her full weight. The cold metal digs into your back as her forearm presses into your throat, pinning you just like before. Her face inches from yours, her smirk even cockier now, her eyes dark with something that isn't just competition.

"Déjà vu, sweetheart," she taunts, her voice a low purr. "You looked so pretty the first time I did this. I just couldn't resist doing it again."

Your breath catches, a mix of frustration and something you don't want to admit, burning through you. You shove back against her, trying to twist free, but she's got you trapped, her body flush against yours, holding you there effortlessly.

"Fuck you," you rasp, glaring up at her.

Her grin widens as she leans in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Is that a promise?" She whispers.

For a second, you falter, caught off guard by the heat of her words and the way her breath skates over your skin. But then the bell rings, signalling the end of the round, and she pulls back, stepping away with a wink.

The third round is a blur of punches, kicks, and blood. You're both landing hits that would drop anyone else, but not you two. You're too stubborn, too caught up in this unspoken battle between you that goes beyond the championship.

In the fourth round, she gets you in a chokehold. It's tight, and you can feel the pressure building in your head, the edges of your vision starting to darken. The crowd is on their feet, roaring for a finish. You could tap. It would be the smart move. But you don't. You twist, clawing at her arms, and somehow manage to slip out, rolling away just as the bell rings.

You barely make it to your feet, and she's right there, hands on her hips, shaking her head with a grin. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

You spit blood onto the mat, grinning back. "Never."

The final round starts, and you both go all in. It's a flurry of strikes, both of you too exhausted for any fancy moves. She lands a solid punch to your jaw, and you stumble back, but as she moves in for the kill, you manage to sweep her legs out from under her. You drop on top of her, pinning her down, your forearm pressed to her collarbone.

For a second, you think you have her. But then she bucks her hips, flipping you onto your back, her body pressing against yours as she traps your arms beneath her knees. The referee moves in close, checking your position, and you realise you can't get out. Not this time.

The ref's voice is distant, calling the end of the fight. Rio just managing to secure victory once again. She pulls back just enough to let you breathe, but she doesn't get off you right away. Instead, she leans down, tilting her head, face inches from yours.

"Looks like I win again," her voice a mocking whisper. "You gonna cry about it?"

You laugh, breathless and bitter. "Fuck you, Rio."

Her grin widens as she leans in even further, her lips brushing your ear. "Maybe later, sweetheart."

She finally lets you up; the crowd's roar fills your ears as she raises her arms in victory. You stand there, chest heaving, staring at her as she soaks in the applause. She glances back at you, a flash of something softer in her eyes before she winks and turns away.

-

You don't see her again until you're both in the locker room, alone for the first time. You're sitting on the bench, wiping blood from your knuckles, when she saunters in. She looks as bad as you do—bruised, beaten, but somehow still infuriatingly cocky.

"Aww, do you need a hand?" She asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but there's a glint in her eyes that wasn't there before.

You roll your eyes, but you don't protest when she kneels in front of you, taking your hand in hers and dabbing a wet cloth against your busted knuckles. Her touch is surprisingly gentle, and you look down at her, catching the way her gaze softens as she cleans your wounds.

"You fought well," she admits quietly, not meeting your eyes.

"So did you," you reply, your voice just as soft.

Her hands linger on yours for a moment longer, her fingers tracing over your bruised knuckles like she's memorising the shape of them. It feels so different from the fight—so tender that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the warmth of her hands seeping into your skin, and it's almost comforting. Almost enough to make you forget how brutal you were to each other earlier.

She shifts her focus, moving the cloth to the cut on your brow. You flinch when she presses against it, but she hushes you softly, like she's soothing a frightened animal. "I've got you, sweetheart."

Your breath catches at the endearment. It's the first time she called you that in this way, it feels different—like she's letting down her guard, if only for a second.

She looks up then, and for a moment, the mask slips. There's no smirk, no teasing grin—just Rio, looking at you for the first time. It's raw, and it makes your chest ache in a way the fight never did.

You swallow hard, taking the cloth from her hands. "Your turn," you say softly, gesturing for her to sit. She hesitates, like she's not used to letting someone else take care of her, but she sits down anyway, her expression guarded.

You crouch in front of her, your hands trembling slightly as you clean the cut on her brow. Her eyes flutter shut, and for once, she doesn't have a smart remark or a cocky grin. She's just quiet, letting you work in silence. you can see how exhausted she is now, how the adrenaline is starting to fade and the pain is setting in. You touch her bruised cheek gently, and she winces.

"Sorry," you murmur.

She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "Don't be," she says, her voice rough but sincere. "I've had worse."

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Of course you have."

She chuckles, the sound low and husky. "You're good at this," she comments, watching you dab at her split lip with a tenderness she doesn't seem to expect.

"I've had a lot of practice," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. But it's hard when she's looking at you like that—like she's trying to figure you out, like she's seeing something in you she hasn't before.

You brush her hair back, revealing a small cut near her temple. Your thumb lingers against her skin, and she leans into the touch, just for a second. It's such a small, vulnerable gesture that it almost breaks your heart.

"Rio," you whisper, her name falling from your lips like a confession. You lean in closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, and she closes her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

Her hand comes up to rest against your chest, not pushing you away, just holding you there, feeling the beat of your heart under her palm. "You don't have to do this," she mutters, but there's no conviction to her words.

You shake your head, cupping her face in your hands. "Yes, I do."

Her gaze drops to your lips, and you realise just how close you've become, your knees almost touching, her breath warm against your face. You're not sure who moves first, but then her lips are on yours—gentle at first, as if testing the waters, but it quickly turns desperate, hungry. It's like everything you've ever felt for her—all the frustration, the anger, the unspoken longing—boils over in an instant.

She pulls back, her forehead pressed against yours. "Come on," she mutters. "Let's get out of here; my place isn't far."

You nod. standing up on shaky legs. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as she does the same. Without another word, the two of you leave the locker room together. The ride to her place is quiet, the air thick with anticipation. Every bump in the road sends a jolt of pain through your bruised body, but you barely notice. You're too focused on the way her hand rests on your thigh, a silent promise of what's to come.

When you get to her apartment, she unlocks the door and leads you inside. You both drop your bags by the entrance, and she turns to you, eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. but there's none. You reach for her, pulling her close, and she kisses you again—deeper this time, like she's been starving for it.

You spend the night together, wrapped up in each other, bruises and all. It's not gentle or slow; it's rough and passionate—the kind of release you've both needed for so long. And when it's over, you lie tangled together in her bed, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

In the quiet, she runs her fingers through your hair, her touch surprisingly soft. "I guess that settles it," she chuckles.

You tilt your head up to look at her, confused. "Settles what?"

She smirks, brushing a thumb over your swollen lip. "Who really won tonight."

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

Hey!!! I just got the most amazing idea ever!! (probably 🤭) I know that Franco had just lose his grandfather and he had to do FP. And basically everyone (the media & paparazzi just decide to hustle him despite him clearly not wanting to talk or do anything for them. Which is why he wears headphones and cap). So this is more of James with a wife reader. She is practically comforted and was with him since she always does that to everyone. Franco was just so young and she wanted to cocoon him in her warmth. From having bad weather to that awful FP which he crashed and later Alex did the same🙃🙃 Everyone especially the mechanics had to double their work because race starts in like 3 hours after quali. And how can they fix two cars in just that shirt period of time??? Being able to fix one was a miracle, but fixing two? They need to call everyone at the factory it seems😮‍💨😮‍💨 And then Alex not starting the race and Franco struggle in the rain because Williams didn't want to put wet tyres and then later crashed making the stewards flagging the race as red. You know, just a shitty day at the office. Williams out of the race:(( Everyone frustrated, tension arises, more work to do with how the race turns out to be. James admired her about that. Keeping calm, composure and bringing in warmth to everyone at the paddock (maybe interactions with drivers). This is the longest I've ever sent you, so it's up to you how it goes. I trust you. Can be anything you want. Fluff or angst or suggestive. Can be one shot or series. Anything. Just a whole lot of thank you for everything you've ever done for me!!! ❤️❤️❤️ Tag me later!! If you have any questions, just ask me!! I'll be happy to help. Thanks!!! :))

Rain, Resolve, and Resilience

word count. 1.2k

Pairing: James Vowles x reader

AN: Thank you so much for your application i really need that.

______________________________________________________________

The Williams paddock was a storm of activity that mirrored the turbulent clouds overhead. Rain battered the track, but it was nothing compared to the emotional storm inside. Franco, one of the team’s youngest drivers, had only recently lost his grandfather, the man who had nurtured his passion for racing from the start. Now, Franco was expected to push through that grief and focus on practice, even as his heart was heavy. The cameras followed his every step, journalists crowding in with pointed questions, ignoring the lines of grief etched into his face. He pulled his cap down low, headphones covering his ears in an attempt to escape, but it was all too much.

Y/n, the beloved wife of team principal James Vowles, saw it all unfold from the edge of the garage. She had spent countless hours at James's side, becoming a quiet pillar for the team in a way only she could. Mechanics and engineers knew they could go to her if the pressure became too much; her presence alone had a grounding, calming effect on everyone. Today, seeing Franco, barely more than a boy, desperately trying to hold himself together as he faced the cameras alone, broke her heart.

She moved toward him gently, slipping past the reporters who still tried to shout questions his way, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Franco,” she said, her voice calm, almost a whisper. “You don’t have to go through this alone. I’m here.”

Franco’s shoulders relaxed ever so slightly. He managed a grateful smile, his voice barely audible when he replied, “Thank you, Y/n.” He didn’t say more, but she could see the relief in his eyes. Knowing he wasn’t alone in that moment meant everything.

The rain was relentless, and as the team prepared for the practice session, the paddock was tense. Y/n stayed close, keeping an eye on Franco as he prepared to take to the track. She felt protective, wanting to shield him from all the hurt and stress he was carrying. With a deep breath, he climbed into the car, and she watched, fingers crossed, hoping he could find some solace in the race. But as the rain poured harder, the slick track proved unforgiving. Franco’s car spun out on a turn, and he crashed, the impact sending a chill through the paddock. Minutes later, Alex followed, a sickening repeat that left the team reeling.

The Williams garage erupted into controlled chaos. With less than three hours to go before qualifying, both cars were in dire need of repair. Mechanics dashed back and forth, voices rising as they shared updates over radios and called for parts. It felt like an impossible task; fixing one car was a miracle on its own, but two? Every hand was needed, and the tension among the crew was palpable.

In the midst of it all, Y/n was a steady, calm presence, moving through the garage like a breath of fresh air. She approached a young mechanic, shoulders slumped as he stared down at a particularly stubborn part. He rubbed his forehead in frustration, looking close to defeat.

“Take a second,” Y/n said softly, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. “You’re doing amazing. We’ll get there, piece by piece.”

The mechanic glanced at her, finding comfort in her reassuring smile. “Thanks, Y/n,” he murmured, his spirits lifting. She continued to move through the garage, offering words of encouragement to others, giving each team member the strength to push on.

James glanced over at his wife between giving orders, his admiration shining in his eyes. She had a gift, a way of making people feel seen and valued, even when everything felt impossible. He’d often find her in these moments, quietly lifting the spirits of those around her, giving them strength without ever drawing attention to herself. She was the backbone of the team in ways that only he could see.

Back in a quieter corner of the garage, Franco sat alone, hands in his hair as he replayed the crash in his mind. He looked up as Y/n approached, her presence bringing a hint of calm to the chaos within him.

“Do you want to take a little walk?” she asked gently, nodding toward a nearby corridor away from the noise. Franco nodded, grateful for the escape, and they stepped outside into the cooler air.

As they walked, she spoke quietly, her words laced with compassion. “You know, you don’t have to keep this all bottled up. Losing someone you love…it doesn’t go away just because you’re expected to race.” Her tone was soft, non-judgmental, offering him a safe space to express the grief he’d been carrying alone.

Franco took a shaky breath, the weight of the loss settling in his chest. “I just… I wish he was here to see me race,” he admitted, his voice catching. “He taught me everything, and now…” He trailed off, struggling to find the words.

Y/n placed a comforting hand on his back, offering him a moment of silent support. “I think he’d be incredibly proud of you, Franco. You’re out here, giving it everything despite how hard things are. That takes strength,” she said, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze.

When they returned to the paddock, Franco looked a bit lighter. The time away with Y/n had given him a bit of the peace he needed to keep going.

The rain returned with a vengeance on race day, and the paddock was alive with tension once more. Only Franco’s car had been fully repaired, and the knowledge that Alex wouldn’t be able to start weighed heavily on the team. Despite the pressure, Y/n stayed close, her comforting presence a balm to the team’s frayed nerves.

As Franco took to the track again, Y/n stayed by the garage monitors, her hands clasped tightly as she watched him navigate the rain-soaked circuit. But the track was treacherous, and the decision not to put on wet tires soon proved costly. Franco’s car began to slide, the wet track claiming another victim as he fought to regain control. Y/n’s heart sank as she watched him crash once more, the red flags raised as the race was halted.

The team was devastated. The loss of both cars cast a shadow over the weekend, leaving everyone drained and disheartened. In the paddock, frustration was written across every face, the team grappling with the weight of another painful blow. For many, the temptation to give up felt stronger than ever.

But Y/n, ever the steady presence, moved through the crowd, her calm energy pulling everyone back to center. She listened as mechanics vented their frustrations, offering a word of comfort or a quiet hug to those who needed it most. For the younger team members, she was a constant, a familiar warmth that reminded them they weren’t alone in their struggles.

When James finally made his way over, exhaustion etched into every line of his face, he found Y/n beside Franco once more. The young driver looked up at her, his gratitude clear even in his exhaustion. James watched, his admiration for his wife growing with each passing moment. She was the heart of the Williams family, the one who kept them all grounded when the pressures of racing felt too much to bear.

Y/n looked up at James, catching his gaze with a soft smile that seemed to ease his worries. “We’ll get through this,” she said, as much a promise as a reassurance.

[exhuastedpigeon]

Maybe don't take love advice from me because I'm a stranger on the internet who got married nine months after meeting my partner, but if you want some love advice I'm feeling sentimental since it's my 5 year wedding anniversary.

As annoying as it is to hear it, it's unfortunately true that in most cases you meet someone when you're ready. Ready doesn't have to mean ready to get married and settle down, I certainly didn't feel ready for that when I met my partner - ready can mean a whole lot of things, but to me it means you're in a place in your life where you're ready to put in the work and create a partnership with someone. You've got to be open to meeting someone, even in situations where you'd usually not be open to it. I met my partner on the west coast at a conference we both attended for a mutual hobby. Neither of us lived on the west coast. It just so happened that we lived within a 6 hour drive of each other back east. It isn't always easy, but love shouldn't feel like a job. Sometimes you've got to be willing to make sacrifices and changes to your life and you should expect your partner to be willing to do that too. Compromising isn't always 'meeting halfway', sometimes compromising is accepting something is that important to you but it is to your partner and letting them have it. Sometimes it's your partner doing the same for you. Falling in love is the easy part. Once you open yourself up to the idea of love and being in love, it's the easiest thing in the world to do it. Staying in love isn't the hard part either - the hard part is loving someone and knowing sometimes they're going to hurt you and sometimes you're going to hurt them even if you don't mean to. Don't lose yourself in your relationship. Have your own hobbies and interests. Be comfortable not being around each other 24/7. Do find parts of yourself in your relationship though. Find hobbies to share. Let yourself feel childlike joy with your partner. They shouldn't complete you, but they should compliment you and make you feel at ease enough to find new parts of yourself. Communication is the most important part of a relationship. If you can't effectively communicate with your partner, you'd better learn how to or expect to be unhappy. Communication doesn't just mean talking either, it means listening, it means listening to understand not just to reply. It means figuring out how you both communicate and working together to communicate effectively. You gotta talk about money. You gotta talk about kids. You gotta talk about where you want to live. You gotta talk about what you want in the future. If you don't do this, if you just assume, you're setting yourself up for heartbreak if your partner and you aren't on the same page.

I could go on and on, but the biggest piece of advice I have about love is this - the idea that you have to love yourself first before anyone can love you or you can love anyone is bullshit. You need to be able to trust that your partner is being honest with you when they tell you they love you though, you can't let your insecurities colour how they feel about you. Projecting onto them won't make anyone happy.

[blueishspace]

Hero Villain God 6

(Prev) (Next) (First)

Chapter 2

*Grian's pov*

It was Mumbo to suggest putting Ariana Griande online, something about the internet having more reach. He even offered to provide you with equipment... you know he's hoping to use your income to fund his villany... you don't really care for money but you find it weird he's investing so much on your "career", did the song you sang to him really entranced him that much?

Technically you know how it works, the internet is ripe for your domain. Phisically though? You are the god of chaos ...not technology and you never really cared to learn too much about it before this moment... You though it would be like making that meme of HotGuy but no... Video and Audio Editing is so extremely tedious.

You also finally build the persona of Ariana Griande, by telling Mumbo you are her you have limited your form to a variation of "Grian" ... Still you have fun with it and Mumbo looks like he's having a great time looking at her too.

Your first video as Ariana is nothing worth talking about, just the cover of soldier poet king that you have already sung to Mumbo a few days ago... It gets 5 views by the end of the day... You could push it along with a bit of divinity but that's not nearly as fun as letting the channel grow organically. You do get one comment: "Oh lord, your voice is divine!" which is very ironic... And amusing.

Your second Ariana Griande video is another cover, at this point an orginal song wouldn't make sense. It doesn't do much better but Mumbo seems to enjoy it... Perhaps you did put too much divinity in it because Mumbo takes a minute to recover after listening in... hopefully the effects will be less intense when viewing the video at a later date.

You distract yourself from the channel for a moment as Mumbo interrupts you. He is as anxious as ever and stumbles on his words but you can understand the gist of what he's trying to say. He's going somewhere and was wondering if you wanted to join in, you don't have much to do right now anyway so you easily accept.

The coffe shop he brings you is pretty small but it surely has a certain cosiness to it... It isn't that which attracts your attention though. There is a familiar presence here, you can feel it. Hotguy is here, what are the chances?

You get up under the excuse of going to the bathroom and walk toward the man that your divinity tells you is Hotguy... without his uniform yes, but it's him nonetheless. You approach and- he turns suddenly and accidentally spills his coffee on you...

...

...

..Calm down, Grian. Do not smite the mortal. Do not smite the mortal. Do not-

"Oh! I'm so so sorry! Are you ok?!"

"I- *breathe in breathe out* yes. Just didn't expect it"

And that is true, you didn't... somehow.

"Do you need something to clean yourself with-"

"No no, calm down, It's fine"

You say it to Hotguy as much as you say it to yourself...

"Are you sure -uh...?"

"It's... Grian" Then you remember about human identity, you are leaning. "... He/Him"

"Oh! Well Uh I'm so sorry about this Grian, uh wait, I should introduce myself too! I'm Scar! Uh- He/Him Nice to meet you... Well not nice since I dropped my coffee on you but-"

Oh you can't stay angry at him if he's going to act like that. You just can't.

"It's not your fault...and It's nice to meet you too"

This too isn't a lie, after all you still don't know how you managed to not notice the coffee was going to fall on you.

You turn to Mumbo, he must have seen what happened because he looks like he doesn't know wether he should get up and help or to stay in place and mind his own buisness...he's just kind of half standing?

You'll have to cut this meeting short but perhaps...

"I have to go now but if you really want to make it up to me you can buy me coffee sometime in the future"

You put your hand in your pocket and generate a piece of paper with your number on it. You then take it out and offer it to him before going back to Mumbo.

"Grian?"

"Yeah?"

"Why did you fllirt with the guy who spilled coffee on you?"

Uh? Did you? You don't think so at least.

"I have no idea what you are talking about mister Mumbo Jumbolio"

"... That isn't my full name??"

"Are you sure?"

"Y-Yeah???"

"If you say so Mimbo Jimbo."

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

Random thought I just had in my hospital bed, but what if Alice had immediately called Rosalie/the Cullens after seeing Bella is alive? And then continued to talk to Bella?

Which scenario are we in?

We're in the "Edward gets really really really pissed because no one does what he wanted and EVERYONE IS RUINING EVERYTHING!!!"

But Let's Back it Up

Before Rosalie has a chance to call Edward?

Rosalie goes "ugh" and is very pissed off that Bella is still somehow causing their family a bunch of drama over nothing, that Alice apparently has false positives now about people fucking dying, and is so done with this bullshit.

But Edward is not told that "Bella is dead, come home and stop this".

However, the Cullens don't get to sit on their hands too long as, "news, everybody!" it turns out Victoria has been picking off people in the Forks area, held out by teenage shapeshifters, to get to Bella so that she can kill Edward's mate as a part of her revenge for the death of James.

Remember Laurent? The guy Irina's stupid in love with? He was one of them!

And wow, it sure seems like this is kind of the Cullen's fault for refusing to keep even small tabs on the town/Bella because Edward was so determined to be a dramatic diva and tear himself out of her life.

I imagine the Cullens (sans Edward, he's still moping in Rio) have a meeting and while it's going to be a tough call (Rosalie wants nothing to do with this, Jasper is torn as he wants Victoria dealt with but also doesn't want to put Alice back on her radar) ultimately I think they'd vote to go back to Forks for as long as it takes to deal with this problem.

And erm, we'll see about Bella (there's no Volturi 'thou shalt' yet nor Edward's attempted suicide, so it's not as dire as it was canonically).

The question is...

Do they tell Edward? On the one hand, he'll be pissed if he finds out they went behind his back because his lady love/Forks was in danger. He'd be beyond pissed, he'd feel betrayed on an unheard of level.

On the other hand, Edward will throw a massive fit (much like the one he threw to get them out of Forks in the first place), and when he realizes his "leave Bella" plan has had unintended side effects, that placed Bella in even more danger... a) he'll despise himself which is the last thing Edward needs b) who knows what the fuck he'll do in response to this.

There's a very tempting option here where, maybe, they can take care of things quickly enough in Forks that Edward never even realizes they went back.

This is an even more heated debate, and I imagine it's very 50/50 and "... Alice, er, how does he take it?"

Ultimately, they probably decide to tell him. He has to know what's happened, they can't keep this secret forever, and he deserved to know exactly what has happened, both the good and the bad.

Rosalie does not get to tell Edward, as that's a very bad idea, and I imagine Carlisle gets to tell him.

And so, Edward gets a phone call in Rio telling him "you done fucked up, son", not only that, but remember how he was chasing Victoria and he pathetically lost her in Mexico and kept going south for some reason until he landed in Rio? Yeah, she went all the way back to Forks where she's been trying to eat Bella this entire time.

Laurent nearly did.

And the only people protecting her are those temperamental shapeshifters who it turns out are back in full force.

And so, Edward loses his goddamn mind.

Edward: The Eclipsining

Edward comes racing back and acts similar to how he did in Eclipse. The carpet was pulled out from under him, this Jacob Black character has moved in on his territory in a way Edward did not expect for all he thought he wanted Bella to move on. Worse, Bella's in even more danger than before, has picked up very dangerous habits, and now he has to crawl back into her good graces.

Trouble is, Edward also hasn't quite been convinced that he can't live without her yet/he would have broken eventually. He knows he was having a shit time in Rio, but he didn't have that moment of her death where he concluded there was no purpose to his life anymore. Oh, he still plans to nobly kill himself when she dies, but he sincerely thinks he can leave her alone, she can live her human life, and he'll kill himself off screen.

It's just... when he leaves her alone she doesn't live that idyllic human life he wants her to.

If Bella puts it to a vote, I imagine she'll still win as Carlisle will probably side with the majority, even though there's no threat of execution/Edward's imminent suicide on the table. In which case Edward smashes the Korean TV, but I'm not sure would ask for marriage.

He wants to marry Bella, but he also doesn't want her to commit her precious human life to him/he still wants to extract himself. I imagine Edward would plan to be with her in the short term, so that the family doesn't go and turn her, but is always looking for Bella to a) change her mind about turning into a vampire b) extract himself from the situation.

And Jacob Black would be great for that. In fact, while Edward fucking hates him at first, he proves himself a worthy advisory, he's brave and noble, and Bella clearly cares deeply for him.

... Edward is suddenly Team Jacob.

Edward deep down is Team Edward, but he can't be Team Edward, because he has to leave Bella as soon as possible without turning into a vampire. But Team Jacob means Team Human means that Bella won't asked to be turned and will live a normal human life... with a shapeshifter but at least he'll be able to protect her.

I imagine Jacob has very little idea what to make of Edward. He hated this guy, still hates him but why is Edward saying, "Yes, Jacob, we must make you as appealing to Bella as possible". And leaving them alone together, on purpose, so that Jacob will have opportunities.

Jacob... doesn't want to think about weird vampires being weird.

But it all ends up being moot point.

The Volturi

Due to the lack of Volturi meeting, I imagine the Volturi do come to Seattle much faster to wipe out the vampires. If they do, and they do stop in on the Cullens just to see what's happening, then depending who visits they will find out about Bella.

And, "hm, are you turning her anytime soon?" It's clear she's very gifted, so most likely death is off the table (Jane wasn't there by herself canonically, she doesn't get to call all the shots). So, probably they're looking to take Bella back to the mothership.

Depending who's there, Bella is turned immediately. If it's Aro... he may be persuaded by Alice as he was in canon, to let it happen on its own time, or he may turn her ther himself because these people clearly aren't going to and "she should join the guard".

But most likely, Bella gets turned and kidnapped to Italy for at least a year while she's in her newborn phase. After which she's 'free to go', if she still wants to after Chelsea of course.

After that...

Well.

A lot of bloody nonsense.

[overnightheartbeats]

He didn't reply to her text, confirming whether he would join her for dinner after all. Laurel was not usually one to assume, but they had, more or less, confirmed yesterday while they talked. Right?

Laurel glanced down at her phone, then up at the parking lot. She had said, five o'clock, no? It hadn't occurred to her until then, standing like an idiot in front of the place, that he just wouldn't show. The date probably went well, probably lost track of time, or something. It was something she knew would eventually happen, friendships losing priority. And, that was the title she held on to - friend. Still, the radio silence irked her. Why make such a big deal out of this place, and then not show up? A simple text to cancel plans would go a long way.

5:15 pm, he wasn't coming. In between her annoyance and frustration, Laurel felt a pang of sadness. Here she was, earlier in the day, swearing he wouldn't miss the plans they made. They never did. And, though eventually things would change for them, she just didn't expect it to happen so quickly. Right after the first date. It was momentary, the beat her heart skipped when she heard his voice, but she willed herself to cut it out. Still swearing that she was annoyed with him, though deep down, she was relieved that he hadn't forgotten her. Laurel turned around to face him, "not a steel trap at all," she said as she crossed her arms over her chest. She huffed, the puppy dog eyes he gave her always effectively countering the irritation. "I'm debating it," she rolled her eyes at him. "Fine, fine. Your treat, and maybe I won't be annoyed by the end of dinner." But, she moved to open the restaurant door, and that was already some progress. A small, irritated smile drew on her lips. "So, did you just forget we had this planned? Or pulled an all nighter? I did text you."

A light chuckle left him as he nodded. "We can only hope." he teased. They'd been friends for years and not a single of his more studious habits had rubbed off on her, he doubted that was the case now, but it was a nice thought. He nodded slightly at her last words. Katie did like him as far as he knew, and Laurel was right, he needed not to overthink this or he'd shoot himself squarely in the foot.

The way he lit up at her offer was obvious and he nodded instantly to match the happiness showing on his features. "Yes, definitely." he agreed with a smile. Though his head shook slightly at her words, his index finger coming up to tap at his temple. "Please, you know this thing is a steel trap." he joked.

He listened as they walked, nodding slightly. It was odd, wasn't it? Her giving him dating advice, considering just last week they'd been in bed together? He wondered if it felt as foreign and....off to her as it did to him, but he pushed the thought away as quickly as he could. "Thanks Laur." he responded and had to stop himself from leaning forward to press a kiss to her cheek. Instead he nodded once and offered her another slight smile before he turned and headed toward his building.

The date went effortlessly. Laurel had been right. There was hardly much ice left to break after the camping trip and he hadn't need to worry himself at all. Katie said she had a great time and they spent the night in his room, cuddling and talking until the wee hours of the morning when they fell asleep together. They slept in, and spent the rest of the day together. Jack was actually about to open his mouth to invite her out to dinner when he remembered the text from Laurel that he'd swiped to the side when he'd woken up. Fuck, what time was it?

Jack grabbed his phone and checked the time. 4:30. He was going to be late, but he couldn't bail on her, not when he'd basically asked her to wait to try the place with him. He apologized profusely to Kate about plans he'd forgotten, but she didn't seem to mind and they set up another date for the weekend. They kissed and he swore he could've gotten lost in kissing her if Laurel wasn't stuck at the back of his mind.

He showered, changed, and drove to the restaurant as fast as he could. It was quarter after when he was rushing toward the front door, noticing the brunette standing outside. "I'm so sorry." he apologized instantly, a sheepish grin finding his lips. "Guess it's not as much of a steel trap as I thought, don't hate me?" Jack offered her his puppy dog eyes before continuing. "It's my treat, c'mon, I know there's no way you're not hungry." he coaxed with a light tone.

[deathdetermineslife]

how do you manage to get any followers or friends in the selfshipping community? is it just luck?

for months i’ve been trying to interact with others and follow people, engaging with stuff like ask games and hosting reblog games, but when i try to share any artwork or i reblog an ask game myself, its radio silence. like even in small discords i get ignored so bad

i don’t say this at all to be guilt tripping /gen, it’s genuine curiosity at how this stuff even works. like am i doing something wrong or is the community just like this?

here is my comprehensive and lame guide on How To Get Selfship Followers

step 1 - posting

so a lot of my posts are either kinda general or fun. folks I will not lie to you. these are all stupid shit that come to my mind on a day to day basis. for example, today, I thought, "man I'm such a loser I'm not in college like all my friends r" and then I was like "omg wait. i could make a post out of this" so I did that.

you also kinda gotta be conistent. so i try to post at least *something* everyday. even if its a reblog, tho, I don't reblog a lot of things other than ask games.

another thing with posting is that i do try to make a lot of community based content. so idk if yall remember but in the beginning of my account, I did the "things you can do if you have xyz f/o". i did like,,, I think almost 100 of those ?????? it was a lot. then I started making templates and I made some ask games and ofc I post a lot of general like,,, imagine stuff. oh also polls. people seem to enjoy polls.

step 2 - be positive

this is the big thing. as most of yall (hopefully) know, I do not fw proshippers !! but I don't talk about discourse unless its directly brought up. not only this, I put a big focus on just,,, being nice idk. like id like to think I'm a pretty down to earth person.

if you make a template and people tag you in it, say something nice! reply to peoples art, send in asks, things like that. i try to do my part in being nice. i also just like hearing about peoples selfships.

when people post promos and have the little "rb to be moots", reblog! when you come across someone having a bad day, maybe they made a vent or something, reply with a simple "I hope you feel better <3" or "your f/o loves you <3". things like that, ya know?

step 3 - have fun

genuinely. i post as much as i do because I like it. i didn't go into this thinking "oh... yea... I'm gonna get selfship famous..." like no I just wanna ramble somewhere bc none of my close irls r selfshippers.

you wont get popular or get followers because you grind out posts. literally one of my biggest posts on this account I wrote while I was half asleep one night and wanted to test out queuing on my account.

and in that regard, it is partially luck. i don't control what posts people do and don't like. sometimes I write up imagines and no one sees them. sometimes I write up a post saying "lol go kiss your fake boyfriend ooo smoochie smoochie" and that does numbers

step 4 - interaction

im only in two servers. one server (which was the first public server I think I ever joined ???? i could be wrong tho,,, bad memory blehg) that I don't own and then my own 18+ server. i don't think being in servers does anything,,, considering I'm only in one that isn't mine. i think its more like ,,, sticking to one or two places ?? like just being consistently in an area you're comfortable in.

i guess you gotta just find the right people ??? and like I mentioned, be friendly, but ya know. also I guess tags too? idk if you look at any of my regular posts I have 8 million tags on them. idk if that actually does anything or not because its kinda hit or miss sometimes.

i was gonna say something else but i forgot. see look listen I dunno how I got here but this is what I do ,,,, effectively nothing. also with the being kind thing, maybe this is how I am bc I'm pagan but I think that if you expect kindness back you wont get anything. sometimes its just nice to be nice. eventually you gain a reputation for being a nice person. you kinda have to not want that tho? like I don't see myself as particularly like ,,, super kind ,,,??? i just do what feels right.

step 5 - uhhhh idk im just rambling now

i guess i also went into this kinda like. damn sometimes this community is a cesspool of absolute meanie pants. i don't wanna be a Meanie Pants and just post my thoughts and the things I think about. i guess how I see it too is, I kinda like ? idk I think all these things anyways why not post them? kinda feels like a waste not to.

also ive been told my posts are pretty recognizable bc of how I format them ? my dividers and such. also tagging all of my imagines and stuff with my 🥀📜 emojis. i guess that helps too? because that's how I recognize certain accounts. "like oh there's them I recognize their dividers and their tags".

also you kinda gotta like,,, not let hate get to you. like have fun with it? i know that's hard, but, that's what you gotta do. when I get printer ink (bc. a hoe does NOT like buying printer ink) im printing out that fucking 8 mile long hate message I got sent. but also that's just the kinda person I am. like people being a dick and stealing my posts and telling me to swallow a glock 9mm doesn't upset me, im more like,, confused more than anything because never in my life have I ever sent hate to anyone. also I have had this "I do not care because you're some loser on the internet and you being an ass wipe is no where near as bad as the shit people have done to me irl" attitude.

TLDR; i dont think youre doing anything wrong because I don't exactly know what I'm doing right. i just... do... and sometimes, "just doing" is enough. maybe its luck, maybe I've been blessed by the tumblr algorithm and I've somehow figured it out, or maybe the community is just genuinely that bad and they pick favorites. maybe its all of the above! who knows. i try not to worry about it. i think at the end of the day, as long as you're having fun posting about your f/os and selfshipping, that's what matters.

alright thats all see ya. if you have any more questions feel free to ask however I fear I cannot answer them </3

[violet-moonstone]

Black Women and Girls in Science Fiction, Fantasy, and Media in General

Thinking about how much Mel Medarda (and characters like her) means to me and considering making a sideblog with posts about black women in science fiction, fantasy, and historical fiction -- because we are often not included, sidelined, or portrayed primarily as struggling.

And I want to focus on Black women who are portrayed as intelligent, kind, wise, graceful, cherished, etc because we are not expected to be these things (I've straight up been told to my face that someone was shocked that I was kind and intelligent because I'm Black...and they meant this as a compliment). I've also had friends make comments about not expecting a guy I liked to be interested in me because they just naturally assumed he's "not into Black girls" because that's the norm in our neighbourhood.

I've also been told that I'm not "really Black" or that I'm "whitewashed" or "an Oreo" because I don't fit the narrow idea of a Black woman many people have about Black women and Black people in general. I'm not loud, sexual, or aggressive enough. The way I speak isn't Black enough, and neither are my hobbies and interests). Seeing Black women and girls portrayed in a variety of ways is so freeing, because it allows all Black women to see themselves in media and art.

I think conversations about how women are portrayed in fiction can be difficult, because no, I don't think all women should be portrayed as traditionally feminine and/or as love interests. Yes, I think there should be women who are portrayed a strong and brave warriors...but as a Black woman, that's pretty much the expectation -- to be a warrior who needs no help. But this expectation does not come out of admiration.

We're expected to be strong and able to shoulder burdens on our own because very often, people don't want to help us so we have to help ourselves. We're not expected to be watched out for and certainly not serious, long-term love interests (unless we're biracial or have light skin) in fiction or even in real life. And then when you get intelligent, dark skinned Black girls/women as love interests who have any personal goals or opinions that don't 100% align with the male protagonist, prepare for her to be hated (See the Castlevania: Nocturne and Invincible fandoms for examples).

I'm not going to get into detail about the history of the "strong Black woman" trope and the effects of slavery on perceptions of Black women, but if you need an example of how this still affects society: Black women in countries like the US, Canada, and England are more likely to die in childbirth. This is partially because of how wealth disparities among racial groups affect access to healthcare, but it's also related to Black women's pain not being taken seriously and Black women not being seen as worth protecting in the same way (This also happens with Indigenous and Hispanic women btw).

There are still people in healthcare programs/people who work in healthcare who were taught that Black people have a higher pain tolerance than people of other races. Being a "strong Black woman" isn't exactly an empowering experience when your suffering is seen as trivial or non-existent.

Let's not forget that when Rue (who was explicitly described has having dark skin in THG) was cast as Black (and played by a very light actress btw) there were people in the fandom talking about how they automatically pictured her as being pale and blonde because that's their mental image of a sweet, innocent girl. (Also because these people were not very bright and couldn't imagine that Katniss thought Rue was similar to Prim in terms of personality, not literal appearance).

When Annabeth Chase was cast as Black, I saw someone talking about how it didn't make sense because as a white blonde in the books, she would have a reason to prove her intelligence and defy stereotypes...as if this isn't something Black girls go through in a much more intense way on a regular basis!

Anyway I wanted to mention all of that because it's important to keep in mind when I'm talking about appreciating characters like Mel. Appreciating femininity or being a primary love interest can be seen as frivolous and limiting because in general it's a box that a lot of female characters (especially White female characters) are put into, but it's important for Black women because we get it so rarely (although I think it's getting less and less rare these days, thankfully).

[zoomzooml]

Dragons:TNR Jörmungandr redesign (rework?) concept

(Also I know that my design pushes beyond limits of TNR animation in more than one way but here I just had fun lol)

I feel like he is not intimidating enough in original. He is very small for an "Apex predator of all dragons" (and let's remember that TNR has Giants Realm so-). I expected him to slide way longer when he was escaping his prison. He also had a lot of troubles with catching dragons (it was honestly sad to watch) And yes, as far as I know snakes are expecionally challenging to rig and animate and TNR doesn't have movie-level budget, but c'mon. It's The Final Boss. (*I think that in concept art he actually is longer so perhaps they shortened him to make animation easier (and cheaper??) considering mad speed seasons were coming out)

Sidenote - that poor danger noodle had so little of any kind of build up. It's really sad. And the first time we see him live he: did shitty jumpscare (build up was actually decent imo, but sound effect and bad animation humbled it), had short, off-screen fight with Sky Torcher after which he didn't even kill him (though he did at least leave some nasty scars and broke Torchie's tooth), and then fucked away. For me it was very underhelming.

Low quality clip for those who didn't watch (I hope Tumblr won't take it down).

Coming back to the design. I really don't like his colors. He got wings but to compensate I decided that he's not a good flier. In my mind he is an ambush hunter. And I know that THE Jörmungandr, the spawn of Loki from the myths, did not have wings, and this is pretty consistent as far as I know, but it is not THE Jörmungandr, so yeah

He is in some way mix between King Cobra, Moray Eel and sea snakes (Yellow-Lipped Sea Krait mostly). I changed his hood to be more similar in construction to a king cobra. In short, it is a bit of loose skin and ribs with the ability to move. In my design, the tips of some of the ribs poke through the skin. Now I don't think TNR would be able to animate it (But i'm not very familiar with 3D animation, especially for shows) so in show he probably would just have hood always flared. His head and sail are inspired by mooray eel because they are dope and I love them. I feel that aspects of sea snakes have died in design - they have a paddle at the end of the tail, but this has already been included in the OG design, so I don't feel the need to talk about it. However, like Sea Krait, Jörmungandr is semi-aquatic. He is much slower on land than in the water, but the difference is not as great as with Sea Krait.

I increased his size - and if he wasn't inprisoned he probably would be about 15-25% longer by now. He's old enough to be a Titan Wing but he isn't normal size - he stopped growing a bit after outgrowing average dragon of his species (let's remember that Red Death is Titan Wing as well!).

*Jörmungandr is longer but Red Death is more massive. Avarage serpents are slightly shorter than Red Death as well.

To be honest, I'm not sure if I didn't overkill it with his size. On the one hand he is large, on the other hand he is mostly long and not that massive. Idk

In addition to the scars, I think Jörmungandr would also be covered with small amounts of moss and other vegetation that started growing on him when he wasn't really active (his cave is very wet/moisty). To survive he spent almost his entire life in a state of brumation, being more active when he sensed meal approaching his reach.

Now, in my mind The Jörmungandr is the name of this particular dragon, not the whole species (Midgard Serpents? IDK), and at the same time he is not a "real" Jörmungandr from the myths. Because words cannot describe how I hate that plot.

I don't know how exactly he got his name but I think it was not because of how big he is, but because of his intelligence and mischievous soul. Again, idk.

Jörmungandr is a tragic dragon. In my version he was not trapped by Hiccup (in my version Hiccup never come back to Hidden World, because c'mon. I don't really like THW but if TNR is continity to that franchise they should follow established canon and not wreck last movie and make it completely insignificant. It loses all it's value if Hiccup, his family and perhaps other vikings, just come back and maybe even lived in the Hidden World anyway! If we have to have human marks and structures, etc. in the Hidden World, I would do it more in the style of “Haddock's Cycle” than “Hiccup and Tom.” Essentially, the creator of these changes is perhaps one of Hiccup's descendants, Tom's ancestors - the "soul of the dragon" that Hiccup and before him his mother had, summoning them to the world of dragons to see "Is it finally time? ”, but it never is, not yet anyway. Idk, I'm trying lol)

I have two concepts: There was once a main entrance to his part of the Dark Realm accompanianed by the waterfalls of magma, but now there's only basalt wall. This would make the closure possible for natural reasons and give Tom an opportunity to show off his geoligical knowledge some more.

Or he was caged in human-build prison, but not by Hiccup. I did that little sketch of how his page in Dragon Book could look in this scenario. Clearly different artstyle than Hiccup's to show that he was not the one to write about this individual (tho in show there's already different styles so--) But at the second thought it can be just illustration for species as whole, so anyway

In both cases, there are ways to enter his personal prison but he is too large to use them. They are still usefull as this is the only way prey will come to his reach. Not many dragons can escape his jaws.

He has spent most of his life in a rather hostile environment to which he was not adapted, which has left scars on his body and psyche. When he's not hunting, he sleeps. Hunger has halted his growth.

Jörmungandr is a damaged, dangerous dragon, the victim of fate and unknown past.

The psychological damage has made him hyper-aggressive, even by the standards of an already aggressive species. I don't think he could ever satiate his hunger either - if he could he would hunt and eat until he consumed everything in range or died of overeating.

For this dragon, it seems too late for a happy ending, unfortunately.

Now about the Midgard Serpents (placeholdern name, I have no idea how to name them) as a whole. Apex Predator may be a bit much, given the existence of dragons like Red Death, Purple Death or Bewilderbeast. However, Midgard Serpents remain one of the dragons that feed almost exclusively on other dragons (and sometimes even other members of their own species - they're cannibalistic), and they're damn good at it. When they feel best in the water, they can follow their prey in the sky or on land. They grow quite large and still are able to take down prey more massive than themselves (mostly thanks to venom and poisonous gas).

I think they are the main predators of 'Deaths and Bewilderbeasts (and other equally large dragons) in the earlier stages of life.

[olliewrites-stuff]

What needed to be said.

Isadora’s body sighed to a halt upon recognising the tousled blonde hair of the person cradling a mug of coffee through the cafe window. Driven by an insistent urge to force her presence onto this once-friend, now-stranger, she stormed through the establishment’s kitsch red door. Her footsteps pounded towards the figure before she tapped an indignant finger between their covered shoulder blades.

"I wrote to you," she hissed.

To their credit, the blonde recovered swiftly from the initial shock, relaxing their shoulders once more and sighing deeply.

"I know,” they whispered. An infuriating silence followed as they took a leisurely sip of their steaming beverage, “but you never said what I needed you to say."

Isadora jolted back as if she’d been slapped. “What’s that supposed to mean, Carlin? I wrote to you! You didn’t bother writing back to me!”

The blonde sighed again, placing their mug gently on the table.

“Fine,” they stated, pulling out the lacquered stool next to them and gesturing for Isadora to sit down. “Let’s talk this through, I guess.”

Carlin picked up their coffee and took another slow sip, waiting silently and expectantly for their estranged friend to take a seat. Isadora slid into the stool warily whilst eyeing the side profile of the other.

They looked… tired. The dark bags under their eyes would certainly not be permitted to be carried onto an airline cabin. Their gaunt face whispered remnants of a mental and physical decline that Isadora had missed entirely due to her distance. However, a stubbornness resided behind the exhaustion that dared Isadora to call it out. It dared her to name the obvious, and in doing so, speak that which had been avoided.

Her cowardice won, as usual. Isadora slumped in her stool with a heavy sigh. “What did I need to say, then? What would have made you stop avoiding me?” she murmured.

It was Carlin's turn to sigh, “I never actively avoided you, you know? I just stopped being the first to reach out. You never instigated anything, so suddenly receiving your paragraphs of texts one night just - wasn't what I needed.”

They took another meditative sip of their coffee. “I needed effort. You forgot about me, and I moved on. One day you decided for whatever reason that I was finally worth some attention, but I'd moved on.”

Hazel eyes met Isadora’s searchingly, “I deserve effort, Dora. I deserve more than a word vomit apology late one night.”

This entire situation suddenly felt like a clusterfuck of historic proportions.

“But, but,” Isadora stammered. “But I didn't want to bombard you! I realised that coming out of nowhere would be jarring, and I didn't want to scare you off! I purposely didn't want to follow up until I heard back because I didn't want to overwhelm you!”

“You're telling me that I should've gone with my gut instinct?” she cried. “I thought I was doing the right thing by saying my piece, apologising, and then giving you space!”

A glimmer of frustration finally pierced through Carlin's stoic stare. “'The right thing’ would have been reaching out YEARS before you did. Time to process is only effective if that's what is needed. If emotions are still high…” They closed their eyes and inhaled deeply, centering themself.

When their eyelids opened once more, their irises shined with unshed tears, “We went from being attached at the hip, from platonic soulmates that had finally found each other despite the vastness of the universe, from best-friends turned siblings, into people who didn't acknowledge the other's existence…”

Carlin’s voice became small; a dramatic contrast from their larger-than-life personality. “I stopped waiting. I stopped expecting you to reach out. I accepted that our lives had veered us in opposite directions.” Their next sigh came from somewhere deep within their soul, “Space is the last thing I needed, Isadora. I needed my best friend.”

Well. Isadora had to do her very best not to burst into tears in the middle of this quiet cafe. Carlin's use of past tense ignited a fear that she had missed her chance.

Desperately, she opened her mouth and let the words fall out as they pleased. Carlin and Isadora had always found honesty easy. “I ask your parents how you're doing whenever I can,” she said. “I thought about reaching out to you years ago, but I couldn't string the words together. Then the time got longer and longer until I figured you'd forgotten me and it wasn't worth trying. My message was a desperate plea - it felt like sending a message in a bottle and tossing it into the ocean, hoping it'd wash up on your shore…”

Carlin had not yet responded in any way, so Isadora powered through. “I thought about you every day, Carlin. You're my best friend - my sibling in every way but legal and blood. I thought our bond could withstand anything, even if our active friendship didn't.”

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation for what she needed to say next. “I know it was you who told my mum everything. I know you sent her everything I shared in confidence with you.”

Carlin had frozen, their eyes wide.

Isadora swallowed around the lump in her throat, “It destroyed me. I know it happened so long ago, but your betrayal was fucking world-ending.”

Carlin opened their mouth to speak, seemingly ready to launch into a defense. The brunette cut them off. “I know, I know. You were worried about me. About my safety. You were trying to help. I just - it wasn't even about you telling her, in the end. It wasn't even about your actions…”

Isadora chewed on her lips momentarily before allowing them to open once more. “It was what you didn't do, Carlin. That's what killed me. I had to find out, from my mother of all people, years later, that it was YOU who made my world crumble when I was already at my lowest. You watched silently as I detached from my high school friends because I figured that they were the ones to blame. You agreed with me to my face. You listened to and supported me through the breakdown of whatever had remained of the relationship between my mother and I. Never, in my wildest dreams, would I have ever suspected you. I still struggle to accept that you did all this and chose not to tell me a single thing. That you chose to let my life and relationships fall apart. I thought we were honest with each other, and that's what destroyed me.”

Isadora wiped away a rebellious tear with a sniff, “It took a few years for me to process this. Hence the lack of contact - on top of my general social ineptitude. I finally got over it enough to reach out again, but based on our conversation, I failed that, too.”

“Oh,” Carlin's voice was soft.

“Yeah,” Isadora replied.

The two sat in an awkward silence for a long moment.

Isadora slid her eyes to get a look at her friend through her peripheral view. They really did look exhausted. Maybe this moment of honesty was the perfect time to finally address a burning topic.

“Your parents told me about your new boyfriend. They told me you have to pay his rent because he can't keep a job… You shouldn't let him do that,” Isadora stated in a rush.

She knew instantly that this was the wrong thing to say when Carlin's eyes shuttered, blocking her out once more.

"Oh, and you're going to tell him to stop?" they seethed. “I don't need another parent, Dora.”

Isadora figured she looked quite pathetic if only one glance from Carlin softened their demeanour ever so slightly.

“Look, Dora,” they sighed, “we're not how we used to be. And to be perfectly honest, I didn't always love your attempts at parenting me even when we were close. So, now? My relationship is DEFINITELY out of bounds, okay?”

The napkin that had wandered into Isadora’s hands now lay in pieces on the wooden bench. Her heart, for the record, also now lay in pieces within her chest. She managed to utter a small affirmative sound.

“I'm not saying we don't have a chance of rebuilding a relationship. We just - we can't just jump straight back in to how it used to be. It may never be like it used to be.” They shrugged, “We need to take it slow and hope we can become friends again naturally.”

Isadora nodded - a jolted, jerky motion in the wake of her sudden grief. She gathered her bag and swept the napkin remnants into her cupped hand.

She stood from her stool and stared down at Carlin, "Tell me to stay."

Carlin squeezed their eyes shut and looked away. Their voice was thick with emotion when they finally uttered, "I wish I could."

Isadora walked out of the cafe door as her world crumbled around her once again.

© O.M.A

"I wrote to you."

"I know. But you never said what I needed you to say."