#but that’s also something completely different but uhh

[florshedworf]

mlp infection au but. hear me out. hurtcomfort good ending they find a cure and everyone is saved and and and

[bonefall]

When Thunder stays with Clear Sky for a while, does Clear ever insist on referring to him as Thunder Sky?

Towards the end yes, as the final detail to Thunder Storm that Clear Sky doesn't love him. He wants to ERASE him.

If Clear Sky recognizes he's made a mistake in casting Bright Storm away with their child, he's incapable of seeing it was wrong because it was cruel. He wants what he realizes he threw away, because he now sees it has value. He wants to own his oldest son the way he wants to own the entire forest-- as a reflection of his greatness.

Anything that makes Clear Sky uncomfortable about Thunder Storm has to be sanded down. The assertiveness was the first thing, he feels insecure when he's challenged, the child must learn to follow before he may learn to lead.

The second is that leg, presenting a prosthetic as a gift (that he isnt allowed to refuse), because he can't have been wrong about the choice that killed his younger brother-- here is a SOLUTION that simply didn't exist before! Behold how resourceful and wealthy his cats are, compared to your old group. We've fixed you.

(This prosthetic is a clunky piece of shit that is annoying to strap on every day, gets in the way and makes a ton of noise, and itches like hell, but the change in Clear's demeanor is immediate if Thunder doesn't wear it.)

But somehow, Thunder Storm was willing to take all of that. In hindsight, it bothers him that the tipping point wasn't the other two things.

Bright Storm gave her son her own last name. When Clear Sky sent them away and the Mountain Cats permanently split, it was pointed. "My only survivor is named for myself." SHE would raise him, alone.

Bright Storm herself slowly seemed to lose sight of the meaning, encouraging him to understand his father's good aspects, but in the meanwhile it took on a new meaning to Thunder. His mother raised him. He found a father in Shaded Flower. He grew up next to Lightning Cry and Acorn Swoop. Thunder Storm means this. It's the person he made himself, and the love they've all put into him.

Thunder SKY is just another monument to Clear Sky, stripping away the life he lived without him. And WHY? For ego? For comfort?

"What am I letting him DO to me?!"

It wasn't the final STRAW, but it was the tipping point. Once Thunder Storm had this realization, the minute he was not going to budge on something, that confrontation was inevitable. The blowout fight was making reservations.

Sunlit Frost is still the breaking point, the injury from his burn going sour, but I'm going to emphasize the way that Clear Sky only called that meeting in the first place as an abuse game. Thunder Storm knew it was coming-- but it still sickens him that it was something THIS monstrous.

[vigilskeep]

Whenever I think about your Keir I think about Bethany telling Anders he reminds her of Malcom. I’m sure that won’t ever affect Keir ever.

bethany is my favourite mage bc she never misses with that psychic damage

but really he and anders aren’t even a thing in act 1 so it’s less like “PLEASE stop comparing my crush to our father” and more like “oh fuck off i spend my entire life trying to act like our dad and one (1) mage rolls up and suddenly he’s dad??”

[mylove-thresher]

JUMPING UP AND DOWN!!,,,!!,! I DREW!,!,,,!!!!,,

yo cuando mujeres sobrenaturales

[mad-hunts]

@ofgctham sent🔪 to walk in on my muse standing over a dead body (for bruce).

betrayal is one of the worst things to have to deal with, barton decided, as he sat with his back flush against one of the cold bathroom walls. it tears you up inside — squeezes your heart in a vice-like grip in a way that makes it seem like it's never going to let it go, and that you were stupid to have trusted anyone at all. barton would know because that is exactly how he felt right now sitting next to violet. he thought that they were friends, for they'd known each other almost a year now. but it was kind of funny how quickly their relationship was destroyed at the first sign that barton wasn't all that he seemed; violet turning into something of a cornered animal, willing to do anything to get out of a situation when she got a text message from someone she used to know. and this was only to find out that barton was hurting them for her.

barton tried to explain it to violet in a way that made sense to him. but of course, she didn't get that he deserved to die for what he did to her. violet was actually scared of the concept. of him, and whenever barton looked into her eyes then, all of the affection she'd felt for him was gone just like that. so much for being the most 'perfect, understanding friend,' as violet almost immediately declared that he needed help and she was going to call the police. needless to say, after hearing that, barton wasn't too pleased. from there, things just continued to escalate. one moment barton was telling violet that he didn't want to hurt her and the next he was trying to plunge a screwdriver he found through her gut. though that same screwdriver was wrenched out of his hands by her and in desperation, violet sunk it into his side whenever barton had taken to choking her out.

and that hurt like hell. she took off from there into the communal bathrooms of the dingy motel they were in to try to hide from him; but barton had found violet despite him leaving a very visible blood trail everywhere he stepped. he killed her by smashing her head into one of the sinks in a rage, it seemed, which he partially remembered and partially didn't. barton's eyes looked like just a bunch of veins with how bloodshot they were from crying while he bit down on his sleeve to keep himself from screaming out due to the pain of pulling out the screwdriver. if someone didn't at least report the blood they'd seen on the pavement out there leading to the bathroom, it'd be a damn miracle. but barton didn't even care if he got caught right now.

it really was a bad idea to take out that screwdriver, for he couldn't even stand now without his legs feeling like jelly and collapsing in on him. but he was able to do it while hanging onto the same bloody sink he'd used to kill violet. her body was right below him, and all barton could think of while looking at her was, why did things always turn out so badly for him? (maybe it was because he deserved it.) he could hear someone's heavy footsteps rush into the bathroom then. and with a weak chuckle, barton turned to face him. the batman. ❝ you're late. she's already gone. ❞ his knuckles turned white with how firmly he was gripping the sink to hold himself up.

❝ i liked her a lot, you know. she was my friend. but something happened, and i just... lost control. ❞ barton cleared his throat while tremors racked his body. looking down at her now made him suddenly feel very hot, probably from all of the adrenaline running through him, ❝ god's, i can't believe i killed her. ❞

[static-method]

when i talk 2 friends about like, making a website/neocities. i hope it is clear that i am not saying Create Your Brand and Market yourself, or anything. or even like, make a site about You And Your Information.

make what social media for dogs would look like. make a wall of funny stock photos. make a dictionary of words you keep forgetting. write some basic javascript and make your favorite pngs bounce around the screen. fuck dude keep an unpublished journal in html + css, that'd be awesome too. putting yourself online isn't smthn everyone wants to do, and you don't have to have anything public to exercise and develop deeper digital literacy :]

like especially when you are learning, in my experience you're not gonna immediately make smthn that you even necessarily feel is satisfyingly representative of you, so like. why make that the focus.

a lot of creative outlets and hobbies didn't click for me properly until i started coding, and like. i dunno. just try it. do stupid things that don't matter. i feel a lotta ppl start coding cuz they wanna make a really crazy cool vn or rpg or so on. and i think you should hold onto that ambition. but also remember like. you can have fun and toys too. fun and toys is kinda how you get to the level of making a full game.

[brick-van-dyke]

You save shit for arguments?? Get a life lmao who does that...

Basic sources still would take a while to read through unless you want a need abstract summary of all my points compiled into one.

I really find that hard to believe since, again, you think sources can just be read in five seconds as if they're half a page and you'd know. Sure I can skim, maybe find a few for you but really? Again? Online arguments don't educate, they just throw weight around and doing that regularly is... so crazy to me??

Anyway yeah, I don't really believe you. At the very least, it makes me wonder about bias in the university, which I guess isn't unheard of with the privatisation of them these days and if it's in certain places I know there is suppression of certain content but??

Look, I'm currently studying so sure I'll admit I'm not a PHD professor in everything we're talking about but the idea of "oh just show me the saved sources you have on this" is so crazy. I'm on my damn phone and just here to say maybe grouping all Jews as Zionists is bad, but hey since you and the person commenting agree on that point, what is there to correct? You both are polar ends of the "all Jews are Zionists" idea and agree. Congrats, you're both equally antisemetic.

dear jumblr: STOP LOOKING DOWN ON AND CONDESCENDING TO CONVERTS.

this includes saying “ofc converts don’t notice antisemitism.” or “they’re a convert, they don’t know any better.”

i really don’t think a lot of you realize how many converts don’t reveal they are converts because of this kind of behavior. my own patrilineal convert parent refuses to publicly, not because they are excluded, but because of the condescension. the way converts are basically patted on the head even if they have ancestry, are patrilineal, were raised in a jewish environment, etc. or have none of these at all.

if converts are equals to you, treat them that way. most gerim learned more during their process than many of us learn in hebrew school, let alone what most secular “born” jews learn throughout their lives. so yes, converts DO spot antisemitism. they DO know things. and there isn’t an excuse for them to be bigoted, to spread lies about our people, or to side with our enemies or to otherwise harm their community. just like there isn’t an excuse for any other jew to do so.

you are not being open minded or accepting thinking and talking this way. you are actually engaging in exclusion and separation. you’re looking down on converts instead of treating them like they have equal standing.

if a convert doesnt know something or does display bad behavior? call them in instead of making excuses for them. treat them like equals, because that is what they are.

[pearlzier]

────⠀ ⠀FRESH LOVIN' w/ CHRIS.

NOTES .ᐣ ana writing chris ????? its a literal miracle..... yeah hes been lookin a little too good lately... also ive been thinking of this for weeks now so uhh yeah !

WARNINGS .ᐣ p in v. uhhh dirty talk. afab!reader. no protection 🙀. im not great at writing chris i dont think... better at writin matt but i tried.

IT SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN AS AROUSING AS IT WAS to see you wearing his merch. chris gives you the pieces you like for free anyway, you're his girlfriend—half of the time you help with the designing process anyway. so he's used to seeing you in.. well, his brand. the sight of 'fresh love' written across your chest is nice, he likes it a lot, but he's used to seeing it when you're with him. you'd told him plenty of times that the hoodies and shirts are super comfortable, so you wore them often.

so that is exactly why he was so confused as to why the sight of you modelling his merch made his dick as hard as it did. it wasn't.. that different. was it? he doesn't get it. maybe it's the professionalism of the photos, or just how official it all is. that's his girlfriend wearing his brand. no one else's—just his. a funny feeling fizzes in his abdomen, a warm feeling flooding his chest. both of those things at the instance he sees your pretty body wearing something he created.

his baby wearing his baby—that kind of thing. its corny, sure, but still. it made his head all murky and fuzzy, and his jeans tighten around him so uncomfortably it was impossible to ignore it. being at the photoshoot was a fucking nightmare, let alone seeing the photos all over instagram. people loved the photos, of course they did, you looked really good in them, and yeah, he loved them a lot too. which was why it was agony going on any social to find the exact thing that gives him a raging hard-on.

it was merely a coincidence that you'd walked in wearing merely a fresh love shirt and not much else. he lets out a low groan at the sight of you, his tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip for a moment with his eyes raking up and down your figure. matt and nick weren't in, the entire reason you were wearing so little, so.. it wouldn't be completely wrong of him to have you bent over the couch due to your little get up, right? he's hoping so, since that's the only thing clouding his brain right now.

"actin' like you're not just as bad as me," he mutters, scoffing in return as you'd done previously. "actin' like your panties ain't soaked."

"you're starin'," he glances up at your words, his blue eyes wide and surprised for a moment before a smirk flits at his plush lips. yeah, of course he's staring. your nipples are hard beneath the cotton of the shirt, poking out a little and drawing his attention directly to them. soon, his eyes drop down to the curve of your ass beneath your underwear. slowly, he slides his hand down to adjust himself over his sweats with a quiet grunt.

"can you blame a guy?" chris murmurs, biting his tongue for a minute before he looks you up and down. "bein' such a fuckin' tease walkin' 'round like that," you scoff at his words, a soft smile playing on your own lips. a tilt of your head, and you're looking him up and down too. he looks good, he always does, but he does look really good. folding your arms beneath your chest, you lean against the kitchen island. "we both know you're soaked, baby." his words are practically a growl.

"you ain't got any proof," you grumble, feeling a surge of heat pool between your legs despite your own words. he wasn't wrong, you know, and he knows that too. all you wanted was to make something to eat, albeit wearing the least amount of clothing possible, but sure.

his smirk widens, "no? do you want me to check?" he knows you're wet, he can see it. from the way your thighs press together and how you're a little stiff whilst wandering around. all tell tale signs that you're just as horny as he is. "you're drippin', baby. don't even try to pretend with me," chris is quiet for a moment, before he pushes up off of the couch slowly. his eyes rake over your frame, and it only makes you feel more flustered in a way.

"don't gotta check 'cause i ain't wet," you mumble immediately, your skin warming up. you're lying through your teeth right now, and chris knows it. he knows you better than literally anyone, even if you don't want to admit it. trying to focus your mind on anything other than well, that, you turn away to open up the fridge and get something to eat. chris is making his way over, eventually standing in the doorway with his arms folded across his chest.

chris chuckles quietly, a low and rich sound. wandering a little closer to you, he stops right behind you with a click of his tongue. you shiver almost immediately when his hand slides over your side, skimming towards the swell of your chest. "liar," he murmurs, letting his nose trail along the skin of your neck lazily as he draws you a little closer to him. "you're always drenched for me, just as much of a mess as i am."

your eyes flutter over to him for a second before you swallow hard, "ain't a liar," you insist, head tilting to the side a little bit at the feel of his head by the crook of your neck. but back to the food, you tried to will yourself, as you bent over to grab a cutting board from a lower drawer. "yeah, can feel you pokin' my thigh with that ragin' hard-on of yours." chris scoffs at that, corners of his lips flitting up at the corners in a lazy smirk.

"s'not exactly a trade secret, is it?" chris mumbles with soft amusement, leaving gentle, warm kisses over the skin of your neck. his hands roaming gently over you doesn't stop him from pulling you back into him. he presses up against you as you're bent over, slowly rocking his hips up against you with a small, strained noise escaping him.

"you feel what you do to me, princess?" was pretty hard not to.

a soft gasp followed by a soft moan escapes you, "chris—" and you grasp at the drawer to keep yourself steady. a shaky breath slips past your lips and you feel it soon hitch in your throat. "don't," in the kitchen? matt and nick could walk in at any moment, you knew, but chris seemed like he didn't care at all, actually.

"don't what, baby?" he coos, taking a breath as he slowly alides his hands down to your hips. at the same time, his own hips grind enticingly into your ass, his aching erection pushing up against you. he needed you so bad. there, in the middle of the kitchen, he shamelessly grinds up against you. "don't what? don't touch you, don't make you feel good, don't love you?"

you let out this pretty moan, folding your arms beneath you to lean up against the counter. "no, no, no—mmh," you wanted him to keep going, you knew he'd make you feel good, he always did. made it his mission, actually. chris grind at your words, head tilting to the side a little bit now. "keep goin', please," well, you don't have to ask him twice, he'd do anything you asked of him.

"mhm.." chris hums quietly, considering whether he should take off the shirt so he can get his hands all over you before he decides not to. the shirt's the appeal, seeing you wearing something he made. fucking you in something he made. "keepin' this on," he adds, letting you know what was going on in his head.

as much as he'd usually keep you waiting, he was far too pent up to do so now. he lets go of your hips momentarily, his free hand moving to his sweats already hanging low on his hips to push them down a little bit to free his cock. a groan escapes him at being exposed, and he shuts his eyes for a minute when he wraps his hand around at the base and gives himself a languid stroke. he could get off right here at the sight of your ass clad in pretty panties pushed up against him like that, but the warmth of your cunt was a safety he couldn't deny.

"probably soaked all the way through these panties of yours, huh?" at the sound you let out, he smiles a little more, his hand slipping inside your panties almost immediately to test his theory. his fingers slowly start to brush against your clit, feeling how slick you are from just his words alone. "told you," you're sopping wet, and he loves it. his head tilts to the side a little, and he applies a little more pressure before gliding his fingers through your slick folds. biting his bottom lip at your sounds, he groans.

"chris, shit," you mewl softly, hips slowly bucking up towards his fingers as he pushed them up against you. he lets his thumb brush against your entrance, gliding over it easily before he glances back over at you. "that's it, let me feel you," for a few long moments, he makes tight circles over your bundle of nerves before his impatience gets the best of him. "feels so good—"

"i know, mmh, gotta feel you, baby," he tells you, tugging down your panties in a swift movement. you gasp quietly at the cold air hitting against your warm folds, and secondly at the feel of his cock pushing against your entrance. he's gentle, always is, his free hand moving to hold you steady at your hip. "you alright?"

you swallow hard, trying to figure out a way to say it without sounding desperate as all hell. "uh, yeah, yeah," you nod, shifting your hips back against him to feel him properly. a laugh escapes chris, and he hums, slowly easing himself inside you with a little buck of his hips. his hand moves to join his other one at your hips and he groans gutterly, eyes squeezing shut. "so fuckin' tight, baby."

"holy shit," you're clenching on him like a damn vice already, a moan escaping you as well in a similar fashion to chris'. he takes his time with it, lifting his hand from your hip to place it on the kitchen counter and grasp at it to keep him steady. he soon enough buries inside you to the hilt, hands roaming over your hips and ass, occasionally squeezing as he looks you up and down.

"such a dirty little thing, aren't you?" slowly, he shifts his hips back so just his throbbing tip is inside you, before he snaps his hips forward again so he's back to where he was moments prior. the sounds you let out practically have him coming right there, but he's got enough restraint to hold on for maybe a few minutes more. "lettin' me fuck you in the kitchen against the counter, knowin' anyone could walk in."

his words barely register to you with how he thrusts in and out of you, practically molding your insides to fit him, taking him so good like you do every damn time. "chris, mmh—! feels so.. ah, shit—!" your tits bounce beneath the fresh love shirt, drawing his eyes there almost immediately. he moves his free hand to cup your chest, thumbs circling over your hardened nipples and pinching momentarily.

"can't even think straight, can you? too busy thinkin' 'bout my cock, mmh.. i know it feels good, baby, feels right," chris keeps up the pace of his thrusts, practically pounding you up against the counter. "feels so, fuckin', good," he punctuates each of his words with a sharp buck of his hips, but making sure that you didn't hurt yourself in any way and holding you up.

"can't.. think straight," you agree breathily, practically panting with every push of his hips and feel of your pussy tightening around him. you shut your eyes, lashes fluttering as you practically squeal around him. "can't think straight, that's right. just focused on makin' a mess on my cock," and making a mess you were, feeling that burst of pleasure as he brought you over the edge.

soon, he got there too, the movements of his hips stuttering as he let out out a low sound, finally coming to a stop once he'd stuffed you full of his cum. "did so good for me," he murmurs. eyes darting up to yours when he managed to coax your eyes open with his hand. "did perfect.."

"yeah?" you ask, voice all airy and breathless. you feel so warm and fuzzy, a bliss washing over you. with a soft sound, you relax against the counter with his help and the feel of him easing out of you. his eyes dart down to his release leaking out of your hole, and he hums quietly, letting his hand trail back down and circle his thumb around the mess he'd made for a moment.

"and i thought you were hungry, baby."

ִ ֹ ★ @mattybsgroupie, @dayzeandhaze, @mattslolita, @stellasturns, @stevelacylovebot, @55sturn, @jetaimevous, @phone4pills, @aesthetixhoe, @venusiers, @chrissdollie, @stvrnmc, @sarosfilms, @beetlejenna, @funkycoloured, @v3nusasagrl, @imwetforyourmom, @deansbite, @beridollie, @pr3ttyf4wn, @sincerebabydoll, @pillwebb, @cayleeuhithinknot, @j2ss7, @sweetrelieef, @l3sbiancvnt, @fallbhind, @beausling ִ ꒱

[screamingcrows]

More Genshin characters as ways animals court and mate

The follow up to this that no one asked for.

Welcome to another round of (hopefully) the weirdest biology lessons you'll ever receive. Essentially a shitpost, someone should take away my writing privileges. There could be better suited animals out there, I just chose from the ones I knew.

Characters included; Baizhu, Ganyu, Dainsleif, Xiangling, Wriothesley, Cyno, Wanderer/Scaramouche

Tags: nsfw in the way a national geographic documentary is, there are no graphic details but proceed at your own discretion

Baizhu - Lumbricus terrestris (Common earthworm)

Spending most of his time tending to others, Baizhu doesn't have a lot of energy to spare when it comes to copulation. This combined with his illness makes for a difficult situation. To successfully bed this doctor, make sure to first become a trusted individual, and spend time in the pharmacy with him. Once the opportunity arises at the end of a day, ensure he is amicable to the idea, and bring him to a comfortable spot (preferably a bed) to avoid later joint pain. Benefits from having someone else do the hard work - please let him be a pillow princess. Lumbricus terrestris, and most other earthworms, have pretty chill mating habits. When they reproduce sexually (because they can also self-fertilise) it is done by two individuals laying against each other and forming a slime tube as well as gripping onto each other using the tubercula pubertatis <- this is a little thickening in the saddle (the band on earthworms that look different than the rest of their body). The worms then calmly exchange sperm before dislodging and sliding back into their respective burrows.

Ganyu - Capra spp. (Goats)

Sweet, docile Ganyu absolutely adores it when she gets to cuddle up to you, especially if your arms are wrapped securely around her. At first, you find her tendency to bury her head into your armpit a bit odd, but it's pretty endearing to be honest. Xianyun clearly makes sure her daughter is dressed to impress, and although Ganyu flusters easily; especially when you grin happily upon seeing her, you have no doubt she enjoys the compliments. Each sweet word is rewarded with a little kiss to your forehead (why her smile always looks a little sad when she pulls away is something you'll have to ask about, maybe she's still insecure around you?) Oh I promise you dear reader, this particular behavior is not a sign of insecurity. Goats are self-anointing animals, meaning they make sure to smell. For goats, this behavior includes males urinating on their forelegs and his own face, which combined with a secretion from glands located at the base of his horns, ensures a seductive scent. Some females have been observed to completely refuse mating with a buck who's had those glands removed.

Dainsleif - Antechinus spp. (Marsupial mice)

Oh you unfortunate soul who fell for Dainsleif. Ella, I dedicate this to you. Dainsleif yearns. And he lingers. His love is vast as an ocean and just as deadly- he knows (thinks) it will drown you both the moment he lowers his guard. For this reason, you're kept at arms length for a while, unsure if he wants you gone or not. It's impossible to tell with his tendency to appear for a moment and be gone the next. Every time you think yourself free and healed, he appears again to drive the blade further into both your hearts. When he finally caves, in a moment of weakness, the love he shares is passionate, the ferocity of a starved beast, keeping you awake throughout the night, crying out his name in pleasure. When you awake next, there's nothing but a scribbled apology next to you. Dainsleif doesn't return after that, but you swear he still lingers in your periphery. Marsupial mice have uhh interesting mating habits. Males are ready to breed a few weeks before breeding seasons start and females enter ovulation. Mating is intense but has a narrow window of opportunity. The males funnel so much energy into maximising reproductive capabilities, using up all energy storage, that a vast majority of males die off after mating. The level of free corticosteroids increase in the males during mating, which suppresses the immune system significantly.

Xiangling - Blattella germanica (German cockroach)

It probably comes as no surprise that Xiangling likes to surprise you with treats and meals. She takes great pride in making sure you're provided for and makes certain there's never a dull moment for your tastebuds. Maybe it's a little overwhelming at first, but don't worry, she'll learn your preferences for flavour combinations quickly. But more than anything, Xiangling loves being in the kitchen with you and seeing you add your own personal touch. Sure, she has a penchant for running all over the place, but there's no place like home. Blattella germanica males produce a sugary substance that they secrete from their back, offering it to females to keep them still long enough for copulation. This penchant for glucose led producers of pest controls to include it as bait, but as nature tends to, this has prompted a rise of glucose-aversion and a shift towards the sugary substance produced containing more complex sugars. Experimental little chefs.

Wriothesley - Acinonyx jubatus (Cheetah)

Regrettably, Wriothesley doesn't have as much time to see you as he'd prefer, seeing as he spends most of his time in the fortress. As such, he can be somewhat of a passionate and at times eager lover when he gets his hands on you. He takes pride in his physique and thoroughly enjoys when you're visiting and goes down to watch him train. Better yet if you see him win a match. Once he has you alone, he wastes no time getting close, his voice low and sultry as he asks about all that has transpired since he saw you last. His hands roam along your body as you try to answer, knowing full well nothing you say makes sense, heart swelling at the look in his eyes. It's fine, he'll ask again later when you're both relaxing with a cup of tea. Cheetahs are actually very straight-forward when it comes to reproduction. Males living in coalitions will sometimes fight for the right to mate. Females use a combination of vocal signals and urination to attract a partner, the male might also use urination to indicate his location. Once the pair meet, the male produces a series of sounds called the 'stutter-bark' which triggers female hormonal cascades and induces ovulation so the female is in prime condition for mating. Wriothesley could make a lot of people ovulate with his voice alone let's be honest.

Cyno - Erinaceus spp. (hedgehogs)

We all know that the General Mahamatra can be a bit.. annoying at times. And if he's actively trying to win you over? You best believe he's giving it his absolute best shot when he isn't out on the job, inviting you along wherever he goes to relax. To the great amusement (and embarrassment) of his friends, a choice strategy is to make you laugh... It's pretty cute, if a little pathetic at times. He makes genius invocation tcg decks for you to use against him, 100% has matching cards made of you both - you get his and he keeps yours. You can roll your eyes at his shenanigans as you please, he's persistent in his pursuit as long as you haven't outright rejected him. Erinaceus males will approach the sow and begin walking in circles around it, the female might occasionally hiss or swat at the male, sometimes even curling in on herself, but most of the time is just for show. The circling can continue for longer than an hour during which the male is huffing and trying to asses and approach.

Wanderer - Apis mellifera worker (European honey bee)

Not particularly romantically inclined, Wanderer could go the entirety of your life without declaring any affection, but you'll undoubtedly know that he favors you over others. He learns and remembers, and to be known is to be loved. Whenever you express a desire or wish, if it's within his power to grant, you may soon find yourself living out that dream. Deep down, Wanderer treasures every little moment of you being 'a nuisance', and you both know it. After all, he could leave at any moment if he wished to. Once he considers you kin, he'd do anything to keep you alive and content. Within eusocial insects such as honey bees, the worker can be fertile but will, in a healthy hive, most often refrain from producing offspring. This is done to instead focus on caring for the rest of the hive. The strategy is known as 'kin selection' and is based on workers being more closely related to each other, than they would be to potential offspring. As such, the individual's reproductive success is, in terms of % genetic material preserved between generations, better left to the queen.

Scaramouche - Apis mellifera drone

Sorry. He's so out of touch with his emotions that I don't think he'd last having to acknowledge being in love, much less indulge in 'human pleasures'. After mating with the queen, a drone's penis explodes while still in the queen (blocking off others from mating) and the drone dies shortly after. There's something poetic to be said about drones only having half the amount of chromosomes compared to a worker, but I'm no Scara analyser.

I also recommend checking out my comprehensive mating study of Dottore, it's exactly as weird as it sounds.

[dualumina]

After having taken 2 years of game design, it is GUARANTEED that IF a GW3 game would be another MMO, it'll be years and YEARS of time before it reaches public hands. Go check out a dozen YouTube videos about failed games by small studios and you'll see why these things take boatloads of time and so much money to get off the ground.

Game series' like pokemon have given off the impression that game development is a fast process. IT. IS. NOT. It is only fast if you are reusing previous assets (which pokemon has done) and even that isn't so simple as dragging a file into unity and calling it a day.

GW2 has a lot of assets that can be reused. This is true. But a lot of the more up to date assets had to be structured to work with old code. It is not a simple process to update something for modern code. Half the process of coding a video game is figuring out why your code isn't working. It's like following a recipe for cake and you end up with burnt flour, and it turns out there was an extra semicolon that screwed the whole thing up.

Think of all the times mild bugs have happened while using any kind of program. Now consider the fact that GW2 is running 24/7, for thousands or more players. Have you ever had to restart your computer because it was acting weird? Yeah you can't do that so easily if there's like 30 thousand people playing your game, and they're also the ones paying for your salary, and all the equipment used to run a program that's used by hundreds of people at a single time.

Now imagine the shear risk it would take to make something like that completely new. It would take hundreds of hours and so much money just to make it usable, and if people decide that this new game isn't cutting it? All that money is gone. Remember what happened to No Man's Sky? It was a disappointment to so many at first, but with time it got updated and people started actually liking it. Each update cost time and money, and it could have ended with the developers declaring bankruptcy if that gamble to make further updates didn't pay off.

You think most companies are going to risk doing something like that? Toss more money into a sinking ship and hope it floats?

No, not unless they have so much money to burn and know they have a good enough game to fall back on if things go horribly. Or someone in the higher ups is in over their heads.

If anything, GW3 could be a single player campaign, or structured similar to other games like Monster Hunter where you can form a party and take down a big monster in a private instance. This is much, much safer than recreating GW2 but with prettier graphics. And given the fact that GW1 is STILL running to this day, it's very clear Anet values preceding games, and better yet they want your progress in previous games to be carried over to newer games.

GW2 isn't getting abandoned anytime soon.

the gw3 concept hasnt even been greenlit yet calm your horses

[slashingdisneypasta]

Peter Hale x Younger!Mate!Reader || Drabble

Plot: **I forget how mates work in the Teen Wolf universe but for the good of the fic, we're going to do this in an AU where your mate is not your choice- you just Feel It, when you meet them, and Know. And you also have a little sixth sense, where you can tell when the other is in danger.**

Peter Hale is your mate, there's no question about that, but from the moment that you both realised that fact- he has made it clear that you are too young and sorry sweetheart, I'm not that evil.

But some time later he turns up at your house. He has no intentions of being there long, but will it be harder for him to leave then he thought?? After all, now its just the two of you. Just you, and him. Fuck.

Warnings: Age difference (Reader is 21-24, Peter is 35-38).

Of all the people who could've been on the other side of the door today, Peter Hale was probably the one possibility you thought would be the least likely. As soon as you see him, you straighten up your back; stand with more confidence. Even though you're really, really confused. How does he even know where you live?? Peter has never been here. And you've never been close enough to tell him.

"Wh-... " You look around. Did one of the other bring him?? Lydia??? Weirdly, you don't see anyone else. Just your devastatingly attractive, occasionally evil, quippy estranged mate. When your eyes land on him again, you cant help but notice something off about him. He looks a little nervous. A little worried. "... Is everything okay??" Your voice is gentle; soothing. You don't know how comforting that is to him, against his will.

"Hi." He starts, causing you to screw up your nose when he doesn't answer your question. "I uhh... I got your address from Styles."

"And he just... gave it to you?" You ask, dubious. Styles hates that you and Peter are mates, and one of the few things that Style appreciates about Peter is the distance he's kept from you all this time.

Peter shakes his head. "Well, no, he took some convincing, but- " His eyes flicker from your face to the rest of you for the first time- period. First time ever. But still, there's not a bit of lecherousness in his glance, just more concern. Now your lips form into a concerned frown. Why is he so anxious?? Thats not Peter-like at all. Even you know that and you barely know each other! "Uh, when I told him I was worried about you, he coughed up."

You blink. "Worried??... Why would you be worried about m- " OH fuck. Guilt rushes through you immediately. You completely forgot that that he could... that mates could sense when the other was scared. You were told it could be felt almost just as clearly as if you yourself were in the danger, if your mate was. And you were pretty damn scared, earlier.

Fuck.

Immediately your body goes cold and your eyes go round. "- I'm so sorry!! It was- I- My friend and I went into the city earlier, and she left early so I took the train back on my own, and there was this creep that sat next to me an-- It wasn't serious. I'm so so sorry."

Peter nods, the worried fog in his eyes clearing as he let out a sound- a sigh? Relief? He remains rooted to the spot, though, a crease in his eyebrows that still conveyed some level of concern. "What kind of creep? Are you alright??"

"He was just- um- " How do you describe the levels of discomfort you were in with this guy, and still convince him that you're fine? You're not, right now. In fact you were still pent up when you finally got home, safe and sound. You only forgot all about it when Peter turned up at your door. "Persistent. I'm okay. Thank you Peter."

The crease in Peter's eyebrows increases, furrowing and knitting together into a grimace of disbelief. What you would almost call a sneer pulls across his pretty face. "Really?? That felt... pretty bad, sweetheart."

You immediately ignore the twitter your heart gives when he calls you sweetheart. "Really. I'm not hurt, he didn't follow me home. I'll be fine."

"Hm." Peter clearly doesn't believe you. You don't know what to tell him!

... fortunately, you don't have to. After a moment, he rolls his eyes and rolls his shoulders, shaking off the grimace and the sneer and looking once again his usual, unique brand of nonchalant. "Fine, don't tell me. But hey, maybe I should give you my phone number. That way you can let me know whenever something like that happens, so I don't have to freak out cuz my heart's about to tear out of my chest while I'm just folding laundry."

"Oh. Yeah, probably a good ide- "

"You got a pen?"

And there he goes, you think with an indignant huff. He's brushing you off and trying to get away fast, like just being near you was a chore.

Giving a nod, you leave the doorway and head into your house. "You can come in!" You call back, searching for a pen and a notepad.

It hurt that Peter was like this with you all the time, but usually it was a vague unfortunate longing feeling somewhere deep inside you. Because, in the end, you didn't really know Peter. Just because he meant to be your mate, didn't mean you knew him (Just meant that you could. That you wanted to.). So truly, was it a huge loss that he didn't want anything to do with you? You tried to tell yourself that it wasn't. And besides, you sort of respected him for not wanting to 'prey' on you. That was good... A part of him not everyone saw.

Right this moment though you felt sad, and annoyed. Because for a moment there, he was really your mate. He was worried for you, he wasn't just shocked and upset like he'd probably try to convince you if you pressed him on it, he was worried. You could see it clear as day. Because one thing you could gather about Peter, was that when he wasn't wearing that semi-permanent poker face he had on again now as he wandered through your house behind you, peering at pictures on walls and books on your shelves, his face was more like a window directly to his soul. He couldn't hide anything. Thats probably why he invented the blasé attitude he'd patented now.

"... didn't know you were a reader." He pipes up, a definite note of interest in his tone. Not Talking is not a possibility for him- even with you. "What's- "

You give him a taste of his own medicine. "Yep."

Finally you find a pen and paper, stuffed in your food cupboard with a grocery list half done on the first page. You flip to the second page and turn around, handing the pad and the fine liner pen over to Peter.

You watch him carefully write in his phone number down for you, and feel very oddly about him being in your home right now. Morally debased Peter Hale, looking way too gorgeous in jeans and a designer t-shirt- your supposed mate- in your kitchen. Absolutely nuts.

When he's done, you cant help but asking if he wants a cup of tea? You want him to stay. You want him to be comfortable with this- with you.

But you wont force him if he cant. Even if it genuinely breaks your heart a little every time that you think about what could be, here.

"No- no, I cant." He says quickly, immediately, and you nod. Yeah. Yeah, you expected that. Okay. "Well... good seeing you, Y/N. I'll, uh, see you around inevitably."

"Probably, I'm in the pack you keep trying to take over."

A little grin flickers across his face. A little fake-ashamed, a little proud. "Exactly."

You don't know if thats a joke or not. Probably a bit of both, with him. From what you knew of him, he could never ignore the allure of being alpha for very long, despite any amount of good deeds he does.

Complicated man, he is.

Peter turns his back and starts on his way back the way he came, and you go to walk him out, and you're just thinking about what you're going to do with the rest of your day- how you definitely need a comforting cup of tea after all the fear and all the oddness and all the sad- when suddenly Peter turns back around. You nearly run into him. "Oh!- Peter- "

Before you even realise what happened, he draws you and in against him and seals your lips with his and swallows down your surprise. There's a passion in this sudden, shocking kiss that you've never felt before and it almost brings you to your knees. You kiss him back, parting your lips and meeting his tongue with a clipped moan, but you have to wrap your arms around his neck just to stay on your feet.

Being this close to him finally, you find you don't mind the rough stubble against your face one bit, and his cologne is expensive but good, and his nose rubbing against yours feels perfect.

When he pulls back he releases a wolfish growl into the small space between you both, frustrated and annoyed. "Shit, I wish I had a good excuse for that, but- " He shakes his head before pressing his forehead against yours. "Fuck me, I shouldn't have done that... "

"I'm a grown up, Peter- "

"See, Y/N, the fact that you have to say that, is not reassuring to me."

"Y/N??" You blink, eyes growing wide.

"Thats your name." He groans, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, but you've never said it before."

"Yes I hav- " He seems to decide arguing about that isn't worth the time, and shakes his head again. Probably because he definitely hasn't!- "Whatever. Point is, today I have reached a new low. And guess who's fault that is, sweetheart?"

Your mouth falls open with shock, despite the butterflies that fly around inside you at him calling you sweetheart again. "Not mine!- You could control yourself, its not that hard."

His intense blue eyes have a grin in them, now, making you insides feel warm and soft. Still, he sighs. "... any chance you can keep this a secret?"

Hmm... "... Only if you kiss me again." There's a lot to discuss, a lot to figure out; you know that. But the bottom line, the only thing you care about right now, is that you're a grown fucking adult- and you're still feeling the high from Peter's touch. You need it again. You think you're addicted.

Already!

A dark smirk slips across his handsome face. "Hm. You got a couch in this place sweetheart?"

[princeofrubber]

His Lycra-Coated Tormentor

Ethan lifted the cycling bodysuit off the door, letting the sleek material slip between his fingers. The fabric was soft yet sturdy. He held it up by the shoulders. The suit was a deep black with subtle reflective strips of neon green running down the sides for visibility and a faint hint of silver piping traced along the seams. Ethan’s heart pounded in his as he traced his thumb along the open zipper that ran from the collarbone to the navel.

He gazed from the enticing suit to the open wardrobe in front of him. And then he saw it.

A plethora of fetish items, numerous lycra suits, sacks and hoods hung from hangers within the dark space. Along with clearly visible boxes housing gags, dildos, rope, restraints and all kinds of perverted items. The vibrant colours of the shiny materials still reflected so vividly in the low light of the bedroom. Ethan stumbled back, the spandex suit he was holding slipped from his hands. He was breathing hard and heavy, as his mind raced with a thousand questions. What the fuck was he looking at?

At that moment, he heard movement behind him. Ethan froze, like a deer in headlights, turning slowly to see Lukas standing at his bedroom’s doorway, his face unreadable. The air between them was thick with tension, and for the first time since they’d met, Ethan was terrified in his presence.

“What- are you doing?” Lukas demanded, his voice low and clearly enraged.

“Uhh… I’m sorry… I… I dunno what,” Ethan responded, nerve-wrecked.

“Get the fuck out!” Lukas demanded.

“Wait no… no you have the wrong idea. I know who you are!” Ethan panicked, “wait shit I mean I’m also into this stuff… well maybe not all of it… maybe I dunno. Shit I am sorry!”

Lukas strode into the room, closing the door behind him. His gaze fixed fervently on Ethan. He hit a switch on the wall which filled his bedroom with a low red glow.

“Now that is a surprise. I always took you as the vanilla type.” Lukas chuckled, his tone was completely different from normal. It was full of menace and something… dark, “Since the cat’s out of the bag, why don’t we have a little fun?”

“Ah… fun?” Ethan nervously retorted.

“Yep. You say you’re into this stuff… well we’re about to find out just how much you like it. You broke into my room so I think it’s only fair you indulge me in this.”

- - -

Read the full story princeofrubber.com

[mad-hunts]

while jervis spoke, barton looked into the crevices of his nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world all of a sudden. he had to admit that the man beside him had a point. though as the other described to him what he'd done to marty in detail, reminding him of the horror, he didn't feel anything. and barton was hopelessly unable to place himself in jervis's shoes to even feel an scintilla of the remorse seeping into his words now; so, whenever he was done, barton only said this, ❝ touché. i didn't exactly grant him the mercy of a quick, or a painless death, did i? i wonder what the forensic examiners are going to make of it. do you think they're going to focus more on how you killed your guy, or how i killed mine? ❞

and now he was talking about the murder with an almost amused undertone to his voice. so much for being shocked by the revelation that jervis had synesthesia, i suppose. barton looked at the other where he sat with a raised eyebrow as if he didn't understand why he was agonizing over their death's as much as he was. which was sort of true, though he could feel cognitive empathy towards jervis over what he had to experience in that van. the same dead-eyed look that sometimes took over barton's eyes seemed to be in effect once more while he scoffed lightly, ❝ you are incredibly pissy when you're feeling guilty, you know that? just imagine the guard you killed was someone you hate. then, you won't feel half as bad about it. trust me. and i think i got it the first time you explained it to me, smartass. ❞

barton was slipping between acting more like his ' normal ' persona and like the dollmaker now, it seemed, as his newfound small amount of respect for jervis dwindled away for a moment. perhaps it was because his head was starting to feel 'fuzzy' again? barton didn't know, but he was able to tolerate the pain he felt when taking a breath from his ribs before. though now it was searing. letting out a frustrated noise underneath his breath, barton rested his head halfway down his arm while he checked something. he pressed down on specific ribs while he spoke to jervis, ❝ oh, please. only an idiot would regard you as weak because you have synesthesia. it just makes you more unpredictable. ❞

before long, he'd found what he thought he would and that was a specific tender spot on one rib that made him swear unintelligibly in french. ❝ non, non. pourquoi est-ce que ça doit m'arriver, * ❞ barton stated just barely above a whisper to himself while the other started to talk about his experience in arkham and about gotham itself. ❝ uhh, yeah. i obviously do believe in hell, because i'm living through it right now. i'm about 90% sure i've got a popped rib. but whatever you say. if you weren't trying to do it, then i believe you. and ravi likes me because i was introduced to him by my late fiancée. as for matilda, it's — much more complicated than that. she's my daughter. ❞ that word, along with fiancée, was said with a surprising amount of tenderness. barton looked down at his curry with a bittersweet smile on his face.

❝ when she was born, it was like nothing else mattered. i would do most anything for her, ❞ barton sounded like he meant every word too. then, ravi was coming out with jervis's soup and as he placed it down in front of him, he laughed as he held one hand behind his back, ❝ sorry for the wait, jervis. the chefs were running around like chickens with their heads cut off after i asked if they could make something new and special for someone here. not naming names, but ahh... what the hell. it's you, ❞ ravi placed a glass of falooda, which was an ice cream dessert, in front of barton and his demeanor seemed to change completely.

barton was positively beaming now at ravi. ❝ and they've got one cooking for you too, jervis. i'll bring it out when it's ready, ❞ ravi winked at jervis before leaving, and barton clasped his hands together in front of himself. he closed his eyes in contentment like a cat then and tilted his head, all while sighing dreamily, ❝ oh, i change my mind. i'm not going through hell anymore. ❞

[ translation: no, no. why does this have to happen to me? ]

"And when, pray tell, would've been a good moment for me to bring it up? Both occasions we've met, things have been rather tense, wouldn't you say so? Hmmm.... Should I have said something as you were working, or as I was feeling like the veins in my own eyes were bursting as Marty developed petechiae and eventually lost control of his bladder while you were crushing his trachea? Or when I picked the lock to regain my property, and was dispatching the driver... how'd you put it, 'turning him into a pincushion'?" Guilt filled his mouth, sour as curdling milk.

Jervis' finger grazed idly along his own throat as Barton coughed and sputtered on the vodka. As he felt his own windpipe spasm, his eyes flickered pointedly towards his messenger bag; left hand drawing back to his coat, ostensibly adjusting it from where it was draped over the back of his chair, when he was really clandestinely checking that Alice's rabbit remained tucked away in the pocket. "You're absolutely right, what a foolish oversight it was of me not to disclose it."

He sighed, shifted his weight. "The same reason you so adamantly refuse anyone's pity. Because I've made my peace with it. And to have other people make generalizations or false equivalences -- whether out of genuine naivete, or ignorance, or deliberate crassness -- or to view me as some sort of freak? 'A fragile little teacup'? Well... that's a bitter pill I've long grown accustomed to. And how can you expect me to judge you for your actions today, when I know full well what horrors reside in Arkham's bowels? I didn't first get acquainted with the place after becoming... this. Deep sleep therapy. ECT. Stretches of time where I was shuffled between the white room and the isolation tank, most recently. That's all that I can concretely remember, but I'm sure there were other things..."

Jervis let the question hang in the air, not expecting or particularly interested in receiving an answer. Instead, he removed his glasses; flicked one of their metal legs back and forth between his thumb and forefinger. An improvised metronome, timing his breathing; something else to focus on, though with the cannabis, the motion seemed a hair slower than what it actually was. Tick. Tack. Tick.

"There's something about this city... If there's a hell -- if you believe in that sort of thing, anyway -- we're both pretty much already there. But even the worst person has their virtues, so regardless of my dislike of you, I'm not claiming to know everything about your background or your experiences, nor am I meaning to speculate; merely describing what I've already seen from you... and for whatever reason, Ravi does genuinely seem to like you, as did the girl I heard at your workshop, else you wouldn't keep company... Matilda, wasn't it?"

An innocent gleam of curiosity shone in Jervis' eyes, then, though he hoped he could disguise whatever vulnerability he may be unconsciously displaying as a trick of the light or a side effect of the weed. Curiosity, and a touch of sadness. She didn't sound much younger than Alice.

But that train of thought was soon cut off, as the doors swung open, and Ravi's silhouette entered Jervis' periphery. Ahh, it seemed the soup was ready. And just in time; he was famished.

[willowsnook]

I see you (pt. 2)

max verstappen x reader

pt. 1 here

—————-five months later————————-

"I'm going to head out; I have to pick up y/n from the airport," Jackson (your brother) told Max, setting the controller on the coffee table.

"I haven't seen her in a while. Where was she?" Max asked curiously, thinking of the last time he was with you on the balcony right after his Monaco win.

"I haven't seen her either in a while, either," Jackson admitted. She quite literally disappeared for a few months. She checked in with my parents periodically, so I knew she was alive, but other than that, I had no idea what was going on. She called me yesterday to ask if I could pick her up. Do you want to come with me?"

"Would that be weird?" Max asked, unsure. Of course, he wanted to see you but didn't want to overstep. Jackson waved his hand, dismissing Max's worries.

You stepped off the plane as a completely different person than you were five months ago. Your doubts and concerns then were on target; you weren't happy with how things had turned out for you. It seemed like you were now finally seeing the world in color.

Smiling widely, you moved towards your brother and Max, who were both looking at you with somewhat shocked impressions. Your brother held you in his arms tightly, not saying anything as he tried to keep his emotions in check.

"Where were you?" He asked once you pulled away.

"LA," you replied, wrapping your arms around Max to hug him. He held you tightly, like he was afraid you'd leave again if he let go, and your brother gave him a wary look.

"You were there the whole time? Why didn't you call?" Jackson demanded, trying to keep the evident anger out of his voice.

"I needed to get away for a little bit," you said softly as you turned back to him. "I'm sorry that I didn't call, but it was something that I had to do by myself."

Jackson kept grumbling to himself as he grabbed your bag, and you followed him towards the parking lot. Max fell in step next to you, shooting you a small smile.

"You look good schatje," he said and you smiled. "Like you're glowing."

"I feel good," you told him.

As you got into the car, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and nervousness. You knew they would have questions and were ready to share what had happened.

"So, what exactly were you doing in LA for five months?" Jackson asked, glancing at you in the rearview mirror.

You took a deep breath. "I was interning at ESPN."

Both Jackson and Max turned to look at you, surprise evident on their faces.

"ESPN?" Max repeated, a smile tugging at his lips.

You nodded, feeling a rush of pride. "Yeah. I... After Monaco, I realized that I needed to make a change. I wasn't happy, and I knew I had to follow my passion. So I quit my job, ended things with Sam, and applied for an internship program in sports journalism."

Jackson's grip on the steering wheel tightened. "You broke up with Sam? Also, where am I taking you? Still your apartment?"

"Uhh no, a hotel would be good," you said, and Max shook his head.

"You can stay with me for now, just until you find a place," he said.

"I don't want to intrude," you protested, but he gave you a look and said he wasn't taking no for an answer. "But yeah, I ended things with him the day after the race and honestly was reassured I was making the right decision when he didn't really seem upset. It was more like he was inconvenienced by it."

"Good, I didn't like him," Jackson said.

"Me either," added Max, and you rolled your eyes.

"So what are you doing now?"

"Actually covering F1. I finished up that program, and they wanted to keep me on, but I mentioned that I lived in Monaco, so they moved me to that team," you told them excitedly.

"I'm so proud of you, y/n. This will be so good for you," your brother said warmly.

He helped bring your stuff up to Max's apartment and Max showed you to the guest room and other things that you had never paid attention to when you were here before.

As you settled into Max's guest room, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. The past five months had been a whirlwind of change and self-discovery, and now you were back in Monaco with a renewed sense of purpose.

"So, when do you start your new job?" Max asked, leaning against the doorframe.

"Next week," you replied, a mix of excitement and nervousness in your voice. "I'll be covering the Austin race."

Max's eyes lit up. "That's great!"

You nodded, smiling. "Yeah, it'll be my first time covering a race professionally. It's a bit intimidating, to be honest."

Max stepped into the room, his expression softening. "Hey, you'll be amazing. You know more about F1 than most people I know."

"Thanks, Max," you said, and he shifted nervously as if just realizing that you would be living with him now.

"I'll let you get settled in," he said awkwardly before leaving you alone.

The next couple of days were weird between you and Max. It was like he didn't know how to act around you, which you found both amusing and irritating at the same time. The day before you were both heading to Texas, you came home to see Max and Charles playing a video game in the living room.

"Hi, Charles," you greeted as you walked in, and he hopped off the game to hug you.

"It's so good to see you, mon cheri," he said, and you giggled. Max watched the interaction and frowned at how close the two of you were.

As Charles released you from the hug, you noticed Max's frown deepening. You wondered if there was some tension between the two drivers you weren't aware of.

"So, are you excited for Austin?" Charles asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "I hear it's your first race as an official journalist."

You nodded, unable to contain your smile. "I am! It's a bit nerve-wracking, but I'm really looking forward to it."

"You'll do great," Charles assured you, then turned to Max with a smirk. "You better be nice to her in the interviews, Max. No grumpy faces."

Max rolled his eyes, but you noticed a slight flush creeping up his neck. "I'm always nice," he muttered.

You couldn't help but laugh at their banter. "Don't worry, I can handle grumpy drivers any day."

Charles went back to the couch to restart the game, and you put away your stuff and changed back into comfy clothes before coming out to join them. You sat between the two boys and scrolled mindlessly on your phone as they played. Charles talked your ear off while Max sat there quietly, making you concerned. When Charles went up to go to the bathroom, you turned to him.

"Are you okay?" You asked, and he looked over to you, eyebrows furrowed.

"I'm fine, I just didn't realize that you liked Charles that much," he said and you gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean?"

"Just feel like I'm third wheeling, that's all," he said, and you started to get annoyed.

"Are you being serious right now?" You asked, and he didn't say anything, looking back at the game. Huffing, you got up and went to your room, slamming the door just as Charles came back into the living room.

"What happened there?" He asked carefully, and Max let out a big sigh, looking at the ceiling.

Max ran a hand through his hair, frustrated with himself. "I messed up," he admitted to Charles.

Charles raised an eyebrow. "What did you do?"

"I... I got jealous," Max confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. "When I saw you two so close, I just... I don't know. I said something stupid."

Charles's eyes widened in understanding. "Max, you know Y/N and I are just friends, right? We've known each other for years through her brother."

Max nodded, feeling foolish. "I know, I know. It's just... seeing her again, having her here... it's bringing up a lot of feelings I thought I'd buried."

Charles sat back down, his expression softening. "You like her, don't you? Like, really like her."

"It was easy to control when she was with that guy, but now that she's not…" he trailed off.

"You should talk to her," Charles advised. "Clear the air before you both leave for Austin."

"We'll see," Max said, ending the conversation.

The next morning was awkward, to say the least. You gave Max the silent treatment as the two of you rode together to the airport, where you were flying with him to the US.

You settled in on the plane, pulling out your book and planning on reading for most of the flight. Max sat across from you and was eyeing you.

"Y/n," he tried, and you looked up from the book. "I'm sorry."

"It's fine," you said tightly, and he sighed, dejected. He started to say something else, but you looked back to your book, trying to ignore him, so he kept his mouth shut. The flight was long and felt even longer, with tension brewing between the two of you.

By the time you reached the hotel, you were exhausted, and the person at the front desk was having trouble finding your reservation.

"I'm sorry, Ms. y/l/n, there isn't any reservation for you here," the receptionist said apologetically.

"It was supposed to be booked by my employer. Can you check again?" You asked exasperated. "Or do you have a room I can book for the night?"

"I'm sorry, we're all booked up for the race," she told you and you put your head down on the desk, trying to think of what to do. A hand gently touched your back and you looked up to see Max looking at you concerned.

"What's going on?" he asked, and you explained the situation. "Okay, just stay with me."

You wanted to argue, but there really was no other option you could find, so you nodded and let him grab your bag off the ground. His room was very impressive, which made sense considering who he was, but of course, it only had one bed. Both of you stood staring at it for a minute before he finally spoke.

"I can take the pullout couch," he offered, but you sighed, shaking your head.

"It's a big bed, we can both fit."

The tension between you and Max was palpable as you both got ready for bed. You tried to keep your eyes averted as he changed into pajama pants and a t-shirt, but you couldn't help sneaking a glance at his toned physique.

When you emerged from the bathroom in your own sleepwear, you caught Max quickly looking away. An awkward silence fell as you both climbed into opposite sides of the large bed.

"Goodnight," you murmured, turning off the lamp on your nightstand.

"Night," Max replied softly.

You lay in the darkness, hyper-aware of Max's presence just inches away. Despite your lingering annoyance at his behavior earlier, you couldn't deny the nervous flutter in your stomach at being so close to him.

Sleep eluded you as your mind raced. You kept replaying Max's jealous comments, trying to figure out where they were coming from. Hearing him shift in the bed restlessly brought you out of your thoughts, and you turned to face him.

"Max," you whispered, and his eyes opened.

"Yes?"

"What happened yesterday?"

He was silent for a moment before responding. "I didn't like seeing you with Charles like that."

You furrowed your brow, confused. "Max, Charles, and I are just friends. We've known each other for years, just like me and you."

"I know, I know," Max said quickly. "I don't have a good reason; I just didn't like it. Now, can you stop being mad at me?"

"I suppose," you said with a small sense of relief, knowing you could return to normal. "Now, goodnight for real this time."

"Goodnight schatje," he murmured and it was the last thing you heard as you drifted off.

Max woke first the following day, keeping his eyes closed for a moment, enjoying the weighted blanket that must have come with his hotel room. But then the blanket moved and his eyes quickly opened to see that you had your head on his chest, half of your body draped over his.

Max's heart raced as he realized the position you were in. He didn't want to wake you, but he also knew things would be awkward if you woke up like this. Carefully, he tried to shift away, but you only clung tighter in your sleep, nuzzling your face into his chest.

He couldn't help but smile at how peaceful you looked. A strand of hair had fallen across your face, and he gently brushed it back without thinking. The slight touch caused you to stir, and Max held his breath as your eyes fluttered open.

For a moment, you seemed disoriented, then your eyes widened as you realized where you were. You quickly rolled away, your face flushing red.

"I'm so sorry," you mumbled, avoiding eye contact.

"It's okay," Max said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. "I, uh, am going to get ready."

You were embarrassed as you got ready for the day and even more embarrassed about how much you had enjoyed waking up in Max's arms. God, you had to get it together.

You bid Max goodbye as you made it to the track to meet up with the rest of the crew and get started for the day. It was a great first day. Most of the drivers already knew you because of your racing connection, which made it easy to get them to open up for you when interviewing. By the next day, all your first-race jitters had faded, and you felt confident about what you were doing.

For FP1, you really didn't have anything to do besides watch and then head to the media pen afterward. You were chatting with a colleague, half paying attention to the screen, when it seemed like a panic went up around you. Focusing on the screen, you could see Max off the track and slamming into the barriers.

The sickening crunch of metal echoed through the speakers. For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion.

"Max!" you gasped, your hand flying to your mouth.

The camera zoomed in on the wreckage, smoke billowing from the crumpled Red Bull. You held your breath, scanning desperately for any sign of movement from the cockpit.

Seconds felt like hours as you waited for Max to emerge. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you saw him climb out of the car. Relief flooded through you, but it was short-lived as you noticed him limping slightly before collapsing. Stewards quickly surrounded him, and the medical team reached him, but you felt like you were about to be physically ill.

He was loaded into an ambulance and driven away. You found the nearest bathroom to try to catch your breath and collect yourself before returning to your job. You felt like you were going through the motions for the rest of the day. Your questions during the media's time were half-hearted, and some of the drivers, specifically Charles, noticed them.

As you wrapped up for the day he found you in the paddock and with one look at your teary eyes, dragged you to a private area near the Ferrari garage.

"He's okay, y/n," Charles consoled as you let out a shaky breath.

"I don't know what's wrong with me," you said, starting to feel like you couldn't breathe.

"Okay, okay, let's sit down. I think you're having a little panic attack," Charles said worriedly, guiding you to a nearby chair. He knelt down in front of you. "Breathe with me, y/n, okay?"

You nodded and took a deep breath, matching his, and slowly, you started to feel your heart slowing down.

"Why don't we go see him?" Charles suggested, and you agreed, following him through the paddock. You were done for the day with work but still texted your colleague since you would miss dinner.

Charles held your hand as you got a ride to the hospital, and you felt relieved. You could hear Max joking with one of his team members from the hallway. Charles walked in first, and Max smiled at him before his eyes settled on you, and he frowned.

“Schatje, what’s wrong?” He asked, and you bit your lip to keep your tears from spilling over. He slid off the bed, holding out his arms, which you crumpled into. Charles gave him a knowing look as he waved and backed out of the room with the other person, leaving you two alone.

"I was so scared," you whispered into him, and Max held you tightly, his hand gently stroking your back as you buried your face in his chest. He could feel you trembling slightly against him.

"Hey, it's okay," he murmured softly. "I'm alright, just a bit banged up. Nothing serious."

You pulled back slightly to look at him, your eyes scanning his face. There was a small cut above his eyebrow and some bruising starting to form, but otherwise, he seemed okay. Still, the image of him collapsing after getting out of the car was seared into your mind.

"When I saw you fall after getting out of the car, I just..." you trailed off, shaking your head.

Max's expression softened. He reached up to cup your face, his thumb gently wiping away a stray tear. "I'm sorry I scared you. It was just the adrenaline wearing off."

You stared at him, and in that moment, it all clicked. Was this what it felt like? True, unconditional love? Love so strong that the thought of it being ripped away would break you in half? You couldn't even remember when you had felt your feelings as strong as this.

"What's going on in that pretty little head?" Max asked softly, his brows furrowing.

"Did you ever hear about that time when Sam fell off the boat at night last summer?" You asked, and Max shook his head, so you continued. "Everyone told me it was amazing how calm I was, and they were right. I was calm. He could have died, it was dark, and we could have easily lost sight of him, but everything I did was what I knew I was supposed to do. I didn't jump over the railing after him because that would have been stupid, and nothing was screaming at me to do that."

You took a breath before meeting his intense gaze again.

"I would jump over the railing for you, Max. I would do it knowing that I might go down with you because the alternative would be living without you, and I'm not interested in living in that world. You saw me for who I was that night before I left. No one saw I was a shell of a person and had been for a long time except for you. I didn't want to admit what I had felt for you then because I wanted to learn how to enjoy being alone, but watching you crash today, I can't push my feelings down anymore."

Max stared at you, his blue eyes wide with emotion. For a moment, he seemed at a loss for words. Then, without warning, he pulled you close and pressed his lips to yours.

The kiss was soft at first, tentative as if he was afraid you might pull away. But when you responded eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, it deepened with a passion that left you breathless.

When you finally broke apart, Max rested his forehead against yours, his breath coming in short pants. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he whispered.

"Why didn't you?" you asked, your fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

Max sighed, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes. "I didn't think I stood a chance. You had your perfect life planned out, and I... I didn't fit into that plan."

You shook your head, a soft smile on your face.

"It wouldn't have been a perfect life if you weren't in it."

taglist: @leclercdream @freyathehuntress

[silverynight]

Dynamight's type

Izuku has noticed that whenever someone asks Katsuki's certain questions during interviews he gets really irritated; it's usually things about love and relationships that bother him the most.

It's one of the many reasons why Izuku hasn't told his best friend he likes him romantically; maybe Katsuki is not interested in romance at all or he just hates sharing his love life with the world.

Although it's not like Izuku ever thought he had a chance; he probably doesn't. Sometimes he thinks about looking for someone to start a relationship with.

"Let's move in together," Katsuki tells him for the... actually, Izuku has lost count of how many times he has told him that.

But Izuku always thinks he doesn't mean it because it doesn't make sense.

"Why?"

"Just because..." Katsuki says this time, looking particularly frustrated.

"We don't have the need to," Izuku points out, getting a little bit confused by his friend's response.

"I know."

"Kacchan... what if one of us starts dating soon? Wouldn't that be–"

The look Katsuki throws at him is enough to make Izuku shut up immediately; the other pro hero not only looks angry, he also seems hurt.

"Are you seeing someone?" The way Katsuki asks the question makes it look like each word is hurting him somehow.

"No, but–"

"I'm not going to start dating an extra!" Katsuki growls and, as usual, he walks away more irritated than when the day started.

Izuku honestly doesn't get it.

However, he usually goes back to normal when his patrol begins.

Until a reporter finds him after an incident; just right the moment after Katsuki and Izuku manage to save a group of people from a villain.

Actually, there are a couple of reporters, one of them even tries to corner Izuku and instead of asking him about the villain or the civilians, she asks Izuku about romance.

Alright, Izuku has started to get why Katsuki gets irritated at those type of questions.

"Are you dating someone at the moment, Deku?" The young woman asks, smiling at him and using one of her fingers to play with her own hair.

Izuku doesn't understand; is she nervous?

"Uhh... no."

"That's great!"

Not that far from him, one of the reporters is asking about Katsuki's type... again.

"So what would your ideal date be, Deku?" The reporter manages to draw Izuku's attention away from his friend.

"Maybe an amusement park? Sharing a crepe?" The green haired hero doesn't mean to make it sound like a question, but interviews always make him feel flustered.

"That'd be a perfect date for me too!" The girl says. "Would you like to–"

"DO YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW MY FUCKING TYPE?" Katsuki's loud voice cuts off the reporter who's interviewing Izuku.

"Of course, Dynamight!" It's a good thing most of the reporters are used to Katsuki's explosive personality already.

Instead of answering right away, Katsuki gets closer to Izuku and to everyone's surprise, grabs the other pro hero's freckled face and kisses him on the lips.

"There. That's my type!" Katsuki growls as Izuku's face turns completely pink. "Him. Only this nerd. Now, fuck off!"

The female reporter who was asking Izuku questions looks particularly upset about what happened, although it seems like she's a little bit reluctant to go... but she does anyway when she notices Katsuki is glaring at her.

Izuku doesn't get his hopes up, because it's obvious that Katsuki only wanted them to stop asking questions about his love life.

"But Kacchan... they're going to think we are–"

"Move in with me."

"Why?"

It feels like this is not the moment to have the same conversation all over again, but there's something different in Katsuki's eyes this time; he looks determined.

"Because I'm in love with you, oblivious nerd!"

Izuku's face is on fire, he's sure of it; Katsuki just told him he loved him. It almost seems like it's a dream.

"Are you sure, Kacchan?" His voice doesn't sound shaky at all, which is something Izuku feels ridiculously proud of.

"Of course I am! Wouldn't be asking you if I wasn't!"

After a heartbeat in which Izuku thinks about all the time they've been together and tells himself this is going to work, he nods.

"Let's move in together, Kacchan."

Just a year later, Katsuki proposes to him and of course, Izuku can't help but tear up. He's never been so happy before.

***

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[sturnioloskyline]

Idk if your right something like this but I’d find it so silly if you could! So the idea is Matts girlfriend and she’s has ADHD and she like vocal stims a lot when she’s comfortable around people,and she’s always saying the most outrageous things she hears from TikTok’s as a vocal stim ( I can’t go a second with out going “ hundred bans in my panties” because the cortisa star song that’s on my fyp but you can do any TikTok sound!) And she’s like either whispering it or yelling it when she deems it to quite around her! Or something of the sorts if you don’t do this it’s totally ok! Have a wonderful day/night! 🤍💙

blurt out

pairing: matt x fem!adhd!reader

warnings: language, adhd(obv), stimming, cheesy fluff, not proofread

summary: whenever there’s a catchy audio on tiktok, it somehow becomes one of your stims.

disclaimer: i am by no means romanticizing adhd. some of this is slightly based off of my own experiences with being neurodivergent, but i also did some research online, so i apologize if anything is inaccurate!

matt was incredibly understanding and supportive when it came to your adhd. when you first started dating, you were so nervous to tell him, and would mask it all the time around him. but as your relationship progressed, you realized that matt would never judge you or think of you any differently for your adhd.

so you became a lot more open about your adhd, and to be honest, matt loved it. he loved when you told him about your hyperfixations, and he adored the way you’d try to focus so hard while he spoke to you.

after a few months of dating, matt and his brothers had grown completely used to your adhd symptoms. they understood that your short attention span and fidgeting were just parts of what made you you, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

this particular day, nick had suggested that you join them as a special guest for their next car video. you were sitting in the passenger seat of the car, waiting for matt to check the camera angle. chris sat behind you in the backseat, with nick to his side.

you watched as matt stood in front of the minivan, bending slightly over the hood to get a good look at the viewfinder of the camera. he gestured to the left, and you reached out to the dashboard to adjust the camera's position. matt gave you a thumbs up and made his way back to the driver's seat.

"okay, looks good," matt said as he got in the car. he smiled at you warmly, wanting to provide you with a sense of comfort. this was the first video of theirs that you would ever be in, so it was safe to say that you were a bit nervous.

"alright. hey guys, happy friday," nick addressed the camera, leaning forward so he was farther in frame. "today we have a special guest."

you smiled and waved at the camera, glancing at matt who just grinned.

"this is matt's girlfriend, y/n," nick explained. chris let out a cheer, causing you all to laugh. "we're gonna do a q&a with y/n using questions that you guys sent us on instagram."

nick pulled out his phone and began to scroll through the thousands of answers to the triplets' instagram story, searching for a good starter. you looked back at him expectantly before something shiny next to chris caught your attention.

"what's that?" you asked chris, pointing to the can that was in the cupholder next to him. chris pulled it out, scanning the label.

"uhh, it's peach redbull," chris shrugged.

"oh my god, can i please have it?" you asked excitedly. matt chuckled as chris handed you the can, which you immediately grabbed and cracked open. you took a sip and let out a sigh, smiling and setting the can down in the cupholders between you and matt.

"okay first question," nick said, sticking his hand out to grab everyone's attention. "what's it like dating a triplet?"

"um..." you looked out the window, thinking about how you wanted to answer. "i mean, it's like dating any other person, just with triplet brothers? yeah, i guess you could say it's different, because i hang out with you guys all time, but that doesn't mean that me and matt don't like, have our own little moments. but being a triplet doesn't really change anything much. this way i get a boyfriend plus two built-in best friends, which is cool. but me and matt have a pretty normal, average relationship."

you blushed with self-consciousness as you realized you were rambling, quickly shutting your mouth and ending your rant with a quick nod. matt found your word vomit adorable, however, bringing his hand close to your knee, lightly brushing it with his knuckles out of view from the camera. you smiled softly at the reassurance.

nick scrolled through and asked a few more questions, occasionally interrupted by a random tangent that chris went on or something that caught matt's eye through the widow. the video ended up growing longer as the four of you jumped from topic to topic. it was as if you just couldn't stop talking, all of you interrupting each other excitedly and laughing loud enough for the entire parking lot to hear. you grew much more comfortable, slightly forgetting that you were even on camera.

while nick returned to his phone to look for more questions, you, matt and chris were silently communicating. the three of you passed looks to each other, holding back fits of laughter.

"okay, someone asked what you like to—"

"head so good she on honor roll," you blurted out loudly, interrupting nick. the car went silent as you clapped your hand over your mouth, glancing over the camera.

chris erupted into giggles, causing matt to join him. nick started chuckling too.

"sorry! that song is literally all over my for you page right now," you apologized, laughing slightly out of embarrassment. that song had been all you were hearing for the past week, so naturally it worked its way into becoming one of your vocal stims.

"you're fine, y/n. let's move on," nick rolled his eyes at his brothers, who were smacking each other out of laughter.

...

author's note: been a busy week, will post way more on the weekend i promise. also, would it be more fun if i posted one fic every monday, wednesday, and friday? lmk! love u guys 🤍