#but they do earn more than the actual engineers

[the-dragon-invasion-is-near]

i love/sarcasm that every single time i tell someone i want to go to x university to x state (in México), the conversation goes like this

+"oh, what do you want to study?"

-" [carreer in x university]"

+"the one in y state?"

-"oh no, i don't want to live there, people say it's awful, i'm going to x state"

+"but x state is so dangerous rn! why don't you study here?" (note: my state is ALSO dangerous, it's just, y'know, home)

-"there isn't any university in here that has x carreer"

i just want to study bugs and plants and animals and stuff why is it so hard abshabshba

i wish people could happy for me instead of worried when i talk about my plans, like yea it's justified, we all know about the stuff that is going on everywhere, but still.

[fuck-customers]

(half rant half story)

I'm a physicist. I work for a company that helps develop car parts. Essentially, car companies come to us with ideas on what they want from a part or material, and we make/test the idea or help them make/test it. Usually this means talking to other scientists and engineers and experts and it's all fine. Sometimes this means talking to businesspeople and board execs and I hate them

A bit ago when AI was really taking off in the zeitgeist I went to a meeting to talk about some tweaks Car Company A wanted to make to their hydraulics- specifically the master cylinder, but it doesn't super matter. I thought I'd be talking to their engineers - it ends up being just me, their head supervisor (who was not a scientist/engineer) and one of their executives from a different area (also not a scientist/engineer). I'm the only one in the room who actually knows how a car works, and also the lowest-level employee, and also aware that these people will give feedback to my boss based on how I 'represent the company ' whilst I'm here.

I start to explain my way through how I can make some of the changes they want - trying to do so in a way they'll understand - when Head Supervisor cuts me off and starts talking about AI. I'm like "oh well AI is often integrated into the software for a car but we're talking hardware right now, so that's not something we really ca-"

"Can you add artificial intelligence to the hydraulics?"

"..sorry, what was that?"

"Can you add AI to the hydraulics system?"

can i fucking what mate "Sir, I'm sorry, I'm a little confused - what do you mean by adding AI to the hydraulics?"

"I just thought this stuff could run smoother if you added AI to it. Most things do"

The part of the car that moves when you push the acceleration pedal is metal and liquid my dude what are you talking about "You want me to .add AI...to the pistons? To the master cylinder?"

"Yeah exactly, if you add AI to the bit that makes the pistons work, it should work better, right?"

IT'S METAL PIPES it's metal pipes it's metal pipes "Sir, there isn't any software in that part of the car"

"I know, but it's artificial intelligence, I'm sure there's a way to add it"

im exploding you with my mind you cannot seriously be asking me to add AI to a section of car that has as much fucking code attached to it as a SOCK what do you MEAN. The most complicated part of this thing is a SPRING you can't be serious

He was seriously asking. I've met my fair share of idiots but I was sure he wasn't genuinely seriously asking that I add AI directly to a piston system, but he was. And not even in the like "oh if we implement a way for AI to control that part" kind of way, he just vaguely thought that AI would "make it better" WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU MEANNNNN I HAD TO SPEND 20 MINUTES OF MY HARD EARNED LIFE EXPLAINING THAT NEITHER I NOR ANYONE ELSE CAN ADD AI TO A GOD DAMNED FUCKING PISTON. "CAN YOU ADD AI TO THE HYDRAULICS" NO BUT EVEN WITHOUT IT THAT METAL PIPE IS MORE INTELLIGENT THAN YOU

Posted by admin Rodney.

[saintobio]

⊹₊ ⋆🏍₊˚⊹ ON TRACK.

when being the WAG of a rookie MotoGP rider earns you the front-row seats to a thrilling race and... an unsightly amount of groupies.

▞▞ pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader

▞▞ genre. fluff, established relationship, biker boy au, motogp rider au

▞▞ tags. biker!sukuna, motogp rider!sukuna, sukuna rides for ducati, WAG!reader, ooc, profanity, mentions of reckless driving, jealousy, insecurities, accidents, mentions of injuries, sukuna gets a little touchy in the end

▞▞ notes. 1.8k wc. do we miss biker!sukuna? i think we all miss biker!sukuna !! bahaha the influx of biker!sukuna fanarts made me write this. and also bcos i watched motogp clips on tiktok. rbs and comments highly appreciated! :D

Have you ever imagined Sukuna as a MotoGP rider? 

Well, his passion for bikes didn’t just stay confined to the open road. He knew he was destined for more than just the city’s freeways and the thrill of 1000cc machines. He was, as a matter of fact, made for the track. 

Yes, the scary, dangerous, exhilarating world of high-speed competition.

When he had first told you about competing in MotoGP, you were thrilled for him. Truly, because you knew that the series had been his lifelong dream. Before, he was just a little boy who collected bikes for toys, and now he had the chance to make his dream a reality. So, who were you to stand in the way of that?

In fact, you were incredibly supportive—always present at his races, always cheering for him from the stands. It didn’t matter if you’d lose your voice the next day. You had to be his biggest supporter. And today was just another one of those days where your duty as his #1 fan called for you to be there and root for him with all your heart. 

Today’s MotoGP race was in full swing, and your heart pounded in rhythm with the thundering bikes tearing down the track. They all passed by in a resounding zoom! where your eyes could barely keep up from their otherworldly speed. From your vantage point in the VIP section, you watched intently as the riders navigated the circuit, your eyes never straying far from one rider in particular—Sukuna, your longtime boyfriend, riding a Ducati Desmosedici GP24.

“I’m so nervous,” you murmured, hands clasped together as your eyes remained glued to your lover. 

Sukuna was a sight to behold on the track, and he always told you that his bike was an extension of himself as he maneuvered with precision and aggression. Honestly, it must be scary to be the one riding such powerful superbikes, especially when the roar of engines alone was a symphony of speed and power that sent chills down your spine. And while you were filled with anxiety watching your boyfriend on the circuit, the red and black Ducati eventually flashed past, neck and neck with the Aprilia rider, and the two bikes locked in a fierce battle for the lead. 

You could imagine the commentators keeping a close eye as they narrated the race on live television.

But you trusted in Sukuna’s talent. His ability to escape from cops with his old R6 back in his college days was proof enough of how ridiculous he could get with his speed. He didn’t get a single ticket because he managed to outrun them all. Though, of course, that wasn’t something you should be mentioning to anyone. He wasn’t actually proud of notoriety and history of reckless driving before, especially when he recalled having endangered your life once before while you rode with him as his backpack. 

And since Sukuna upgraded to being a professional rider now, you had your fair share of an upgrade, too. That manifested in the form of being part of the so-called WAGs—or wives and girlfriends of the racers. Life as a WAG wasn’t drastically different from your previous one, except now your boyfriend was a huge global sensation in the biker community, and you had become somewhat of a fashion icon yourself. That wasn’t even an exaggeration, because every time you were seen with him publicly, people would soon be talking about your off-duty looks and outfits all over social media. 

But going back to the main star of the show, your hands clenched around the railing, knuckles white, as the race progressed. It annoyed you that the Aprilia rider was pushing him to the edge but never quite managing to overtake. Tailing the two were the riders for Honda, Gresini, Pramac, and KTM among the few.

Cupping your hands around your mouth, you cheered for your boyfriend. “Go, baby! Let’s go!”

The giant screen above the track zoomed in on Sukuna, his Arai helmet fitting the aesthetics of his big, red bike. The effortless way he handled his bike sent a ripple of excitement through the crowd. There were lots of cheering, screaming, roaring, and… well, squealing. Your head naturally turned to the group of girls nearby who were the very cause of the high pitched noises, their squeals of delight making the other WAGs around you shake their heads in amusement.

“Oh my God, he’s so hot!” 

“Look at him! He’s perfect!” 

“Sukuna, marry me!” 

“I’ll give you my number later!” 

“God, I wanna hook up with him.” 

“Girl, me too!” 

“You think we should wait outside his hotel later?” 

“Count me in!” 

Groupies. You felt a surge of pride mixed with a twinge of jealousy as you watched their frenzied adoration for your boyfriend. Literally. Your fingers were itching to gouge their eyes out. You wondered if he had ever been tempted to cheat, that when you were busy with your own corporate life outside of being his girlfriend, he might have rewarded himself by sleeping with an influencer or two. Probably models, too. Those tall, gorgeous women who often get partnered with him on ads and photoshoots.  

But the thing was, you couldn’t blame them—yes, your boyfriend was undeniably handsome, and his chiseled features and intense gaze made him a magnet for attention. A true eye-candy if you may add. Not to mention, he had the most attractive tattoos you had seen in a man. Ever. 

But he was yours, and that knowledge filled you with a sense of triumph over the hundreds and thousands of girls that were fantasizing about him.

Then, in the middle of your trance, an accident struck.

It was a blur of red and black as Sukuna’s bike suddenly wobbled after the rear wheel slipped on a patch of oil left behind by another rider. You held your breath in, praying to every saint that he remained safe, as you watched him struggle to regain control while the bike fishtailed dangerously. 

“Oh, gosh. Oh, gosh.” Your brain rattled with anxiety as you gripped onto the railings. “Baby, no. No, be careful! You got this!” 

For a moment, it seemed he might manage to stay upright, but then the inevitable happened. Sukuna went down in a matter of seconds, and his bike skidded out from under him in a shower of sparks.

“Oh, shit!” 

A collective gasp rose from the crowd, and your heart was lurching in your chest as you saw how your lover hit the tarmac. The medics immediately rushed onto the track, while you were still awestricken as you stared at the screen displaying his fall. 

“Please be okay, baby! Please,” you muttered under your breath again and again. 

A fellow WAG eventually placed a hand on your shoulders, rubbing you comfortingly. “He’ll be fine. Don’t worry. Their gears are made for this.”

She spoke like true champ, and you knew you could put some trust in her words since she was a seasoned WAG. She had probably seen worst accidents that her husband had gone through while on track.

Still, you couldn’t help yourself. What if Sukuna sustained really terrible injuries? What if he broke a bone or two? What if he experienced a concussion? And if he did, what if he’d no longer remember you when he wakes up? Oh, Jesus. Your overthinking was the true culprit here. Yet there was nothing you could really do but wait for good news and hope that nothing too serious happened. Seconds felt like hours, and you were almost about to faint until you saw Sukuna finally standing up between the medics that surrounded him, waving to signal that he was okay albeit limping a little.

“Thank fuck!” 

“See? I told you he’s fine.”

Relief flooded through you, but unfortunately, such joy ended up being short-lived. Sukuna had lost precious seconds in the fall, seconds that allowed the Aprilia to pull ahead. And by the time he got back on his bike and rejoined the race, the gap was already too wide. 

He crossed the finish line in fifth place, a position that felt like a heart-shattering defeat after having been so close to victory.

As soon as the race was over, you didn’t even think twice when you made your way down to the paddock, pushing through the crowd and the throng of zealous fans just to reach your boyfriend. Your heart was still racing, almost akin to the superbikes that were speeding on the track moments ago, as you desperately looked for the love of your life. Only when you rounded the corner did you finally see him, helmet off and leathers dusty from the fall, talking with his team.

“Lovey!” you called out, face full of worry.

Sukuna was quick to turn at the sound of your voice, his expression softening the very moment his eyes landed on you. With long strides, he removed hi’s gloves and closed the distance between you two, and before you knew it, you were wrapped in his arms, the scent of leather and motor oil enveloping you in a comforting hug.

“Are you okay?” you asked, pulling back just enough to search his face for any signs of injury. “I was losing my mind back there!” 

As if he didn’t just experience a dangerous fall, he had a mischievous smile displayed when he looked at you. “I’m fine, baby. Just a little bruised ego.”

“It’s not a joke,” you whined, arms crossed at his lack of seriousness to the matter. “I was so scared when I saw you go down."

Very sweetly, he cupped your face in his hands and nuzzled his nose against yours. “Hey, it’s okay. I’m still alive, right?”

That’s true, you thought. But also… “You came in fifth,” you said, letting out a quieted sigh. 

But the Ducati rider himself was merely chuckling. Not even an ounce of heartbreak was shown on bis face. “Fifth place isn’t the end of the world, babe. I can live with that.”

You shook your head, not understanding how he could be so calm. Really. “But you were so close. You could have won!” And you’d blame it on your hormones, but you remembered the group of girls who cheered him on and decided to bring it up. “By the way, you had all those girls ready to throw themselves at you earlier. One of them even suggested waiting outside your hotel to hook up with you.” 

“Really? Where are those baddies?” he joked, looking around and trying to spot the girls until you flicked his forehead. “Ow! I was just kidding, babe. You’re the only one riding this dick day and night.” 

“Not funny.”

“But you’re so cute when you’re jealous.” He started attacking your cheeks with squeezes. 

While you, you tried your best to swat his hand away. “I’m not. Stooop—! You’re so annoying!” 

“Okay, okay!” He let out a deep chuckle as he raised his hands in surrender. “Anyway, I don’t care about them. I’ve already won the most important race of all."

You blinked twice in the same second, not comprehending his words. “What do you mean?”

Sukuna’s eyes soon softened into a teasing gaze. “I have my beautiful girl in my arms right now. That’s the only victory that matters to me.”

As much as you tried to contain it, a smile eventually broke across your face. “You’re such a sap!”

“Only for you,” was his elfish response, pulling you closer. 

The celebrations continued around you as the media and the crowd swarmed into the paddock. Sukuna held your waist tightly the entire time, all while acknowledging the people that greeted him and asked him for signatures. While in his arms, you realized that he was right. Winning or losing on the track didn’t matter because he already had you—and that was his true and greatest victory.

As cringe-worthy as that may sound. 

“I do have a request, though.” Your boyfriend focused his attention back on you, giving your bum a playful squeeze in front of everyone before he moved his face closer to your ear. “Make me feel like a winner in bed tonight.”

[astonmartinii]

undercover verstappen | charles leclerc social media au

pairing: charles leclerc x fem verstappen!reader

get you a girlfriend who will threaten mutiny to get you a seat at a competent team

based on this request: HI BABES I HOPE YOU ARE WELL! I LOVE YOUR WRITING SM! So basically I have an idea for a (possible?) Smau series, so basically it's Charles leclerc × verstappen!reader, she is a reserve driver for redbull but is also maxs race engineer (idk if you call it that? The person that talks to them that one) so she's very involved with the team and f1 in general. The public doesn't know that her and Charles are dating, and they don't even think it as Charles and max "hate" eachother (they are both doing this to protect readers and Charles relationship, they are actually besties) and basically, reader has enough if ferraris tractor, so she's like 'I will get you too redbull' and then checo retires at the end of the 2023 season, and instead of taking the job when she was offered it, she asks if Charles could have it (obviously not publicised) and Christian is like "Yes very good idea" so he asks Charles who is uncertain at first but is then OK with the idea (he is worried about becoming a second driver to max but there is lots of reassuring that he won't be nd so he accepts) and then he goes on to win 2024 wdc (and wcc but irrelevant) and he's sad that he couldn't do it with ferrari omg that's long sorry babes - @lillians-world-is-f1

MASTERLIST | TIPS | F1 SMALL BUSINESS

redbullracing

liked by maxverstappen, yourusername and 1,390,887 others

tagged: schecoperez

redbullracing: checo has informed the team that he will be retiring from the sport at the end of the 2023 season. we thank checo for his service and all the good times, he will forever be a legend of this sport. VAMOS CHECO 👏

view all comments

user1: EXCUSE ME?

user2: they really thought they could drop this on a monday and we'd all be chill

maxverstappen1: i've heard tequila tastes even better when you're retired, congrats mate - we'll miss you

user3: wait does this mean it'll be double verstappen on the grid now?

user4: there's more than one of them?

user5: max's sister is the girl you'll hear on his radio and she's technically the reserve driver as well. so she might step up to the second seat now checo has retired

user6: idk about you but that spells trouble to me

yourusername: congrats checo! will miss you, carola and all the little ones x

schecoperez: you won't be able to get rid of them that easily, i'll be cashing in on some well earned babysitting hours

yourusername: can't wait !!!

user7: what i'm hearing is that there's a chance for a daniel return to red bull?

user8: double verstappen or maxiel i don't want to choose they're both my children

user9: i'm making an outside shout for a charles leclerc red bull era

user10: i am seeing the lestappen vision

user11: my personal headcanon is that both verstappens and charles are all besties and have always been besties

christianhorner: thank you for your service checo, first drink on me 👍

user12: i know christian is sweating having to make a choice between child no 2 y/n and child no 3 daniel

user13: idk i think daniel might have the edge

user14: if geri or max have anything to do with it we might have a team so dutch that the car will be orange next season

user15: christian punching the walls cause lando extended his mclaren contract literally last week 😭

EXCERPT OF RECORDING OF THE RED BULL GARAGE, ABU DHABI

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 892,309 others

tagged: maxverstappen1

yourusername: verstappens take the city

view all comments

user18: i just know they are simultaneously the best people to party with but also the people you probably don’t want at a house party

yourusername: i’ll have you know i once plunged a toilet at a house party and disposed of a “sick sandwich” i am a DELIGHT

user19: and max?

yourusername: no comment

maxverstappen1: as if ! i don’t care if we’re blood im suing you for slander

yourusername: i watched you volley a vase at AD21

maxverstappen1: i paid for it !!! and you said it was a sick shot anyway FAKE

yourusername: you can say that cause personally i was not at fault of any of my actions that night x

user20: PLEASE MA'AM AT LEAST ONE SEASON OF DOUBLE TROUBLE PLEASE

user21: idk if i could deal with seeing jos verstappen every weekend tho...

user22: obsessed with how neither verstappen follow charles but here he be in her notifications again

user23: someone add it to the interaction spreadsheet i am CONVINCED it will one day lead to more

landonorris: lando norris erasure once again

user24: DID YOU WRITE THAT NOTE???

landonorris: hell no i'd rather peel my skin off than call the three raccoons disguised as a woman pretty

yourusername: good gosh we would've got the point without all of that

maxverstappen1: yeah lando only i'm allowed to call y/n the raccoons in a trench coat. know your place.

user25: so you do wanna tell us who wrote the note then?

yourusername: nope ;p

user26: only y/n and max have been spotted out so maybe it's just brotherly love

user27: LOL? MAX? BROTHERLY LOVE?

danielricciardo: invite seemed to get lost in the mail again

yourusername: either get a room or get out of my comment section

maxverstappen1: ???

user28: no maxiel red bull again. i don't think y/n's blood pressure can take it

f1

liked by maxverstappen1, yourusername and 2,544,924 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

f1: ready to see them as teammates? charles leclerc has signed a deal with red bull to keep him at the team until 2028.

view all commments

user29: excuse me *clears throat* WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

redbullracing: welcome charles!!! no inchidents please

charles_leclerc: will we ever hear the end of that joke?

redbullracing: we know what the girlies want charles

maxverstappen1: you get used to it after a while. no ice bath thirst traps here though

charles_leclerc: phew 😥

user30: this little hoe pretending he didn't love it

user31: wait ??? does this mean what i think it could mean? GIRLFRIEND?

user32: i can't take leaving ferrari and a girlfriend in one day sorry

yourusername: welcome to the team charles :)

user33: don't think we forgot about the recording babe... IS THIS WHO YOU RECOMMENED?

danielricciardo: it better not be because if you recommended your lil boyfriend over sexy ol' me i'm gonna be real mad 😭

this comment was deleted

user34: WE SAW THAT WHAT THE FUCK

maxverstappen1: daniel you are so fucking dumb

yourusername: MAX? IGNORE IT?

maxverstappen1: bro it's all over twitter you might as well take the moment to curse out daniel before christian confiscates our phones

yourusername: DANIEL JOSEPH RICCIARDO YOU RAT BASTARD I'M GONNA RIP WHATEVER REMAINING HAIR YOU HAVE LEFT AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR SURPRISINGLY PERKY ASS. IF I HAVE ANYTHING TO DO WITH IT YOU AND YOUR CHILD BEARING HIPS WILL NEVER GET CLOSE TO A RED BULL EVER AGAIN FOR EXPOSING A SECRET US THREE HAVE KEPT FOR SEVEN FUCKING YEARS

charles_leclerc: what she said

maxverstappen1: oop.

user35: well. can we keep going this is quite fun.

christianhorner: they're all in time out sorry

user36: okay well now that happened... when can we get "who knows me better my boyfriend or my brother" lestappen version 🤨

charles_leclerc: i would wipe the floor with him

maxverstappen1: of course you would you BIG FAT NERD

charles_leclerc: i thought christian took your phone?

maxverstappen1: as if he doesn't fall for the verstappen puppy dog eyes every time

charles_leclerc: you'll use them for me right babe, RIGHT BABE?

yourusername: idk charlie, this is family business

christianhorner: i've taken their phones again

yourusername

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc and 1,304,555 others

tagged: charles_leclerc & maxverstappen1

yourusername: my favourite men in the world doing what they do best

view all comments

user37: take me out back and shoot me already

christianhorner: interesting i don't see myself here and considering i pay your wages...

yourusername: dads go in different categories?

christianhorner: don't use my paternal instincts against me y/n

yourusername: say goodbye to your father's day card

christianhorner: NO I'M SORRY

user38: the way this proves that second red bull really was y/n's ...

user39: for real imagine loving a MAN so much you give it to HIM 🤮

user40: she also said in that recording at jos made it so bad for the two of them when they did compete that she no longer wanted to give the fans and the media the chance to do it either

charles_leclerc: oh wow that's crazy, you're my favourite woman ever

yourusername: don't be so rude to mama pascale

charles_leclerc: well other than mama obvioysly

yourusername: so i'm not your favourite, i see how it is

charles_leclerc: I AM SO CONFUSED SO I'M JUST GONNA SAY I LOVE YOU

yourusername: awww charlie i love you too

user41: okay i've known about them approximately two weeks and i love them your honour

maxverstappen1: i'm so much better than him y/n be real

yourusername: don't be such a sore loser maxy

maxverstappen1: don't get it twisted, i still won on track

charles_leclerc: not for long

yourusername: okay girlies leave the trash talk for the weekends this is being normal for the sake of y/n's mental health time

user42: good lord this trio is so dear to me

maxverstappen1

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 1,043,788 others

tagged: yourusername & charles_leclerc

maxverstappen1: best thing about winning is choosing the restaurant after - closely followed about the worst thing: third wheeling them.

view all comments

user43: max coming through with the y/n and charles content as he should

user44: i need him to open the vault cause i have not forgotten that y/n said this relationship is seven years old

yourusername: i think i had a wet dream about this sushi spread last night

maxverstappen1: as long as that's it, good.

yourusername: i don't need to have wet dreams anymore, the real thing is so much better

maxverstappen1: BLOCKED.

user45: i know y/n is elated to be able to publicly terrorise max with her relationship

user46: so does this mean that this is a system they've had for a while?

yourusername: room service is our middle names

charles_leclerc: maximilian can you please send the last pic to the shared album

maxverstappen1: on it 🫡

user47: SHARED ALBUM? I MIGHT DIE

yourusername: you two are such cutie patooties

maxverstappen1: but for real no being so cute on my jet again or just wait for me to go for my nap

charles_leclerc: heard and understood

yourusername: or maybe just get a life and stop being so lonely

danielricciardo: can i join for sushi or am i still banned?

maxverstappen1: eh, you could take y/n in a scrap

danielricciardo: she read my ass for filth on main i'm scared of her

charles_leclerc: she had you gagged

danielricciardo: and this litlle guard puppy agrees with whatever she says :(

yourusername: as he should !

maxverstappen1: don't try and fight it daniel, i've been in this losing battle for seven years

charles_leclerc

liked by georgerussell63, yourusername and 1,834,903 others

tagged: yourusername

charles_leclerc: life in blue could never be blue with you. i love you baby, thank you for giving me this opportunity, every trophy is for you x

view all comments

user48: GOD PLEASE SAVE ME PLEASE GOD SAVE ME FROM THIS SINGLE LIFE.

yourusername: i love you too charlie, i'd do everything and more for you. i'm happy you're happy x

charles_leclerc: you can't get rid of me at this point

yourusername: seven years strong, i'm stuck to you like glue

charles_leclerc: you'll have my last name (or i can take yours) next

maxverstappen1: you can give her a ring but you'll NEVER TAKE THE VERSTAPPEN NAME AWAY

yourusername: you good?

maxverstappen1: yeah but we must always be double trouble. not even THAT man will come between that

user49: this is the trio of my dreams i need a whole drive to survive ep or even spin off just following these losers around

danielricciardo: see how could you be angry that i would want to talk about all this cuteness ?

yourusername: we are cute, correct.

charles_leclerc: i'd use the words incredibly sexy but okay

danielricciardo: are you guys still angry? I'M TRYING TO COMPLIMENT YOU

yourusername: we forgive you daniel.

charles_leclerc: i was also kissing her on my first podium REGARDLESS

yourusername: you're so romantic 🥰

maxverstappen1: GAG.

user50: convinced that max will still be the biggest big brother asshole until he is in the retirement home

alexalbon: flexing the alex albon and lily mun he photography i see

yourusername: thank you for your service

lilymunhe: we can also keep a secret 🤫

danielricciardo: I SAID I WAS SORRY

charles_leclerc: we're gonna hold it over you forever buddy

danielricciardo: was taking the red bull seat not enough?

charles_leclerc: until i win a championship? yes.

fin.

note: I'M BACK!! hope this was what you were looking for xx also, if you guys ever want to support me in any way i have a tip jar on kofi and also my small business @badlydrawnf1cats that has a sticker sheet available right now - love you all xx

[amplexadversary]

Still would rather buy three machines that are really damn good at three separate things than one machine that sucks at all of them for four times the price of any one of the others. Geez is that the goal these device designers have? Shackle their consumer base to one line (theirs) as if we don’t already have to deal with that with our physical fucking meat bodies? I really really hope that isn’t the fucking endgame here.

[moonieandi]

snapshots pt. 4 | stanley pines x f!reader 

summary: you and stanley unknowingly go on a date 

warnings (TW): swearing, illusions of past abuse, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, slight angst, affection

notes: thank you all for the engagement! hope you enjoy <3

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked an up to date masterlist of all the parts of this continuing series- hope you enjoy <3

word count: 3.9k

| masterlist | part v |

He had somehow managed to drag her out of the basement that day. 

Of course, he had been down there assisting her in any way he could. A high school dropout only knows so much about mechanical engineering and quantum physics. Still, she seemed happy enough to dance around the chalkboard she (he) had dragged downstairs, bouncing off ideas with him contently listening, trying to piece back together complex wiring to get the ominous inverted triangle on the basement wall to whirl back to life. 

She was even more spurred on when he actually engaged, not that he raised his hand like he was back in class (not that he ever remembered doing so when he was in class). She simply seemed grateful that he was attempting to learn anything to help her. To learn how to move this whole fucking thing along. 

She dragged him to the basement quite often now that the shack was half shut down for the winter. He had managed to see a few rounds of locals and tourists through the Murder Hut from early October until Thanksgiving when snow began to fall. Then tourists dried up, and only the locals frequented now, so Stan reduced his hours and gave some more of his time to helping her downstairs during the day. 

Every night was spent downstairs in the basement though, there hadn’t come a day since she stepped through that front door that they both didn’t wander down to the portal. Of course, this was usually then followed by convening upstairs in front of the T.V., Stanford’s journal passed between the two of them.

She had grown more frustrated as of late, raving about alien material and compatibility with human electronics. He did his best to understand, and he followed along very aptly. Always wanting to be an attentive sounding board, and even bouncing his own, albeit stupid, ideas. 

Not that she ever made any indication of them being stupid, and not that she would ever stop him from voicing them. 

Educationally, he felt it was the closest he’d ever gotten to an actual education. Said education being advanced quantum mechanics, but everyone had to start somewhere. 

But now they were out for dinner because, after yesterday’s long night of pacing and chalkboard rants, he thought they deserved to go out on the meager earnings of yesterday’s Murder Hut tour.

That and it had been exactly a year since he first laid eyes on her. Not that he was gonna tell her that. 

He could acknowledge that she may have noticed the amount of time that had past, hence her growing irritation with the lack of progress in getting Stanford back, and her growing hours spent in the dark of the basement. But she more than likely didn’t know of the significance of the exact date, or care, which he figured may be more likely. Especially with the anniversary of Ford’s disappearance having come and gone.

December had been hard for the both of them really, and some things had settled somewhat awkwardly between them from the previous week. 

They both handled the anniversary slightly differently, her with general avoidance, head somehow buried deeper in that god-forsaken journal. He found some semblance of self-soothing in diving head first into holding a conversation with any customer that walked through the front door of the Murder Hut that day. 

Sitting across from each other at the dinner table was hard that night, and for the first time ever, she poured copious amounts of wine into their mugs on a weeknight. The kitchen had been eerily quiet that night, the silence only broken by scrapes of plates and mumbled conversation.

He remembers being disgusted with his hands that evening. Remembers thinking about how he had shoved his brother away that day, how Ford had stumbled from one end of the room into the other just to disappear before his eyes. How his hands had reached for Stanford, calling for him. How the journal made its way back to his hands, but his brother hadn’t. His hand had been constantly grazing his shoulder that day, running along the raised scar, a sickening feeling sinking further into him throughout the day.

They had both shuffled around each other that night, and she had not said so much as good morning and goodnight in her mounting grief, it felt like. She had felt bad about how she handled that day but had felt even worse about failing Stan and Ford. She knew of the hope in Stan’s eyes that day when she had trampled in through the door of the shack, knew the relief he felt in her knowledge and presence. But a year had passed, and she could feel nothing but shame when she looked at him. She saw both twins that night while looking over at his hunched figure across the dinner table. She had said goodnight to Stan and Ford that night and had wandered upstairs wondering if she could wash the image from her eyes in the bathroom sink.

They had both returned to normal by Thursday but had grown more determined than ever before. So yeah, Stan figured a night out may be deserved. 

She seemed happier now, sitting crisscross from him in the Greasy’s diner booth, elbows on the table as she reached over to draw along the corners of his paper placemat with the crayons she had swiped from some kid on the way in. 

Something that made him chuckle for a little too long. He must be a bad influence. He had sticky fingers and she knew it. It now seemed to be a competition between the two of them, who could steal the most random of objects. 

Her hand was out, shielding the drawing on his placemat as she switched between the meager 4 colors the shitty diner crayon pack supplied. He nudged her hand aside as she giggled. 

“No! My masterpiece! Give me a second you grump.” 

“It better be good, Picasso, you’re hoggin all the crayons.” 

She handed over the red one, and he elected to reach across to her own paper placemat, beginning to draw his usual comic-book-style figures. One of the figures, oddly enough, began to look like her. 

Her face was so close to her drawing she might as well have been kissing the table, when she shot up, smiling at Stan and looking for approval. 

“Ta-Da!” She moved her hand, showing a mish-mash of red, blue, green, and purple. 

He stared contemplatively, sitting back in his seat humming. In truth, he had no idea what he was looking at, but he would entertain giving an “expert” review. 

“Hmmmmm, now the color selection may be controversial to some but I think the blue and the purple over here are just lovely. Truly an emotional piece mhm.” He nodded his head, pointing at the corner of colors. 

“You have no idea what it is, do ya?”

“Not a clue Doc.” 

She laughed, pointing to the blue and purple figures. “Okay so these are two llamas and they are totally in love. You can tell by the cool rainbow and shooting star I put by them.” She pointed at what he figured was the “rainbow and shooting star” between said “llamas”. 

“And they are here in Gravity Falls because I drew a bunch of pine trees behind them!” She pointed to what he supposed was the foreground and the mess of green sprigs she had tried to draw. 

He hummed again. “Very moving, very touching Doc.” He moved to wipe a fake tear, sniffling along with his act. 

“I ain't much of an artist, am I Stan?” She laughed, finding humor in her lack of skill. 

He gasped, fake clutching his pearls, an even faker mean expression on his face. “Don’t say that Doc! This is a masterpiece!” 

She smirked. “Okay, then that will be 50 bucks for said masterpiece, pay up!” Hand held out to him she made to grab his placemat. 

“Pretty steep price there kid, don’t get ahead of yourself now.” He conceded. 

She smiled again. “I knew you thought it was shit.” Shaking her head at him she moved to look at his own drawing. “Now what's this?” 

He smacked his hand palm side down on the corner image, a blush on his face. “Nothin’!” 

She nudged his hand now, trying to lift his hand finger by finger. “No! I had to show you mine now fess up! What ya drawing?” 

His hand clenched the corner of the paper placemat, ripping the picture of her from the corner of it and crumpling it up into his hand. 

“Nope!” 

“Yup!” She had risen up with her hands on the table, reaching for the corner paper now clutched above him in his fist. “Lemme see! Don’t do this Stan!” She giggled the entire time.

He panicked at her determination, fisting the paper into his mouth. 

“Gross Stan!” She laughed. “What the fuck!” 

He swallowed the paper, not thinking much of it. Saving himself the embarrassment of having to explain himself. He smiled across from her though, as she cracked up at his over exaggeration. 

She looked just right, under the shitty diner lights. Car headlights flashing as they went by from time to time, he began to wonder how long she would stay. If she would linger around, once Ford had returned. Wondered what it was that note said, that she brought in with her that very first day she burst through their front door. She had put it away after that day, and he never really did get to see his brother’s usual cursive gracing the paper. What was it he had said, to get her of all people out here?

She was too good to linger, he figured, and Gravity Falls felt far too small for someone like her anyway. Even if the unknown waited past their doorstep, they both hadn’t made the move to wander into the woods in search of the creatures Ford had spoken about. Something they had both voiced before over dinner, their shared hesitation to walk too far from their doorstep. If it was just himself he reasoned he would have wandered into the woods looking for signs his brother had been there, he wasn’t fearful of the unknown, he had done plenty of other things that were far scarier than what waited in their backyard. But she was here, and he felt some semblance of duty to watch her back in particular. So they had made a pact to not wander off too far from the other, and they had stuck to that deal even when coming into town. 

The townsfolk hadn’t seen Stan without her by his side since he trampled into the gas station in search of food that very first week. Surprisingly, not too many townsfolk approached her at all when they were out. If it was because he tended to glare at unknown men, she didn’t comment.  

“Order up!” 

Susan made her way back over to their booth, her hands full with two separate plates of short-stacks. 

“For you Mr. Pines.” Settling one plate in front of Stan, Susan moved to place the other in front of her. “And the other for you Mrs. Pines!” 

Brain short-circuiting, he freezes in his motion to grab his fork for his meal. His mouth began to move to correct Susan. 

“Thanks!” She said across from him, a panicked look in her eyes. Face creeping up into a flush as she thanked the waitress. 

Susan made her way away from the table after exchanging common pleasantries, all the while he sat in suspense. 

Only after he could swear Susan was out of earshot did he lean into the table, chest close to his plate to whisper across at her. 

“What the fuck was that?” 

She looked beyond guilty, ringing her table napkin in her hands as her eyes flickered to every corner of the diner that didn’t contain him. 

“I-I may have… accidentally… at some point, perhaps…” She sighs, knowing the drive home will be silent, absent of the usual radio. At least it would be if they couldn’t make it through the mistake she had made all those months ago. “Accidentally, sorta, maybe, kinda, let Susan think that we were married?” Her voice rising in octave, her hands running along the rim of the diner table now. 

He sits back, disbelief struck him. How the fuck had she managed that? 

She answers his question unknowingly. “Okay, so for your birthday in June, remember how I begged you to come to town?” A nod. “Well, you know how I snuck off to Greasy's to get you some birthday pie?” Another nod, remembering how she had been so happy to have correctly guessed his favorite kind that night. He hadn’t even chastised her about the money she had spent on him. 

She continues, hands now flying around, trying to flick the memory away. “Okay well, when I got the pie from Susan she had called my order and she called me Mrs. Pines. And I just…. froze up… and I didn’t know how to explain- well everything.” Her voice picks up speed. “I’m not good at lying, like I can do it, but she just caught me off guard. And we hadn’t discussed what we were gonna tell people- like what we were gonna tell people about us living together? And I thought of Ford and all that bullshit-“ she slumps further into the booth seat. 

“And well, ya I just…I just didn’t correct her.” 

Staring at him, expectantly now. Perhaps waiting for him to explode on her. But all he can manage to do is unravel his fork from his napkin and dig into his pancakes to finally take a bite. Chewing around it, he finally can ask something. He’s less likely to yell with his mouth full. 

But the question dies on his lips. He feels more confused by the second, and then more frustrated also. The silence she figured would follow in the car seems to have raced ahead and sits between them at the table now. Her appetite diminishes by the second, and she no longer waits for some sign from Stan, some indication of acceptance. She didn’t figure there would be, she knew she had fucked up. Or at least, fucked up by not telling him about all this sooner, but she had more or less forgotten in between work and well… enjoying living alongside him. But perhaps the arrangement she had unknowingly shoved him into wasn’t something he was comfortable with, which was understandable. She hadn’t ever really believed herself marriage material, and more or less figured she was even less so in Stan’s eyes. 

He knew she wasn’t the best liar, their old conversation concerning his name had rushed back to him. He hadn’t wanted there to be any lies between them, because he knew it would be difficult for her to upkeep them on top of everything else. That and he believed that their arrangement and reliance on one another wouldn’t work in the slightest if they were just spilling bold-faced lies back and forth to each other. But this arrangement she had stumbled headfirst into came as a surprise. Perhaps they should have rehearsed something to say to everyone who asked about them, but then again Susan didn’t really ask, she had just assumed that they were together, were married. He understood her stumbling into something like that, but he was struggling to find a way back out of it. Because he couldn’t allow her to live attached to him like this, didn’t want her to have to lie for their own comfort. 

A lingering worry in the back of his mind, concerning his past. What if it all came rushing back? What if someone was out there looking for him? What if they hurt her?

He was far past frustrated, not at her though. At all the scrapping and clawing he had to do just to get here, to wind back up in the comfort of lies to survive. But he didn’t want her scraping by with him through this, he wanted her to live. At least before today, he believed she could leave him behind if it all fell apart under him. Always an escape plan somewhere in the back of his head, a way out, a door to reach in the dead of night. But she had shut it, and he didn’t know how he was gonna get her out of it now. 

They finished dinner in silence, something that also rubbed him the wrong way. He was frustrated, and taking it out on her. She folded into an odd shape across from him, now looking dim in the diner light. It only served to frustrate him more. 

Susan didn’t comment or come by to further disturb them through dinner, which was odd for the waitress. She liked to talk, and Stan knew that the south half of town would know about their silent dinner by Friday night. 

Bill paid, they made their way back to Stan’s car. His coat caught up in her arms, he opened her door and shut it again after she entered the car without so much as a prompt. 

He didn’t voice a single word until he made it to his seat, he had been too wound up concerning what she had said. That and he hadn’t wanted anyone else to hear their conversation. To know about the lie she had sown, tying them unknowingly together. 

“So you’re tellin’ me that this town has thought that we’ve been a couple, no married, for about six months?” His hands tight against the steering wheel. 

“Well no, because it was just Susan. Like, maybe just a few people know?” She reasoned.

He shakes his head, chuckling. That’s not how small towns like Gravity Falls worked. “Nah, she told everyone. People in this town are nosey Doc. Everyone’s gotta know by now.” 

He adjusts himself in his seat again, reaching his hand out to the back of her seat, like he always does. She’s swallowed by his red coat, her hand meticulously passing the patch he had put across his right shoulder. Humming to fill the silence. He sighs. 

“This is gonna be hard, Doc. I get why ya shrugged off the assumption Susan made, really I do, but that doesn’t change the fact ya didn’t tell me.” His hand rubs his eyes, frustration seeping off of him. How the fuck was he gonna pull this off?

“What do you mean?” She interrupts. “It won’t be that hard Stan, we can manage this, it won’t be too hard.” She shakes her head, trying to smooth over his frustration.

“How am I supposed to convince this whole fucking town you married some sorry-sap like me doll?” He points between them, an intensity to his eyes. “Now this will be the hardest con. Because why the fuck would you have married me, huh?” He shrugs, throwing his hands up. 

Looking over his scarred shoulder, feeling regret seep through his bones when he sees her now. Sitting there, his winter coat hung off her shoulders, a look of disbelief on her face. An apology on her tongue, he could almost hear it now. 

“Don’t.” He shakes his head. “What’d I tell ya Doc, don’t apologize to me.” He turns back to face her now, still shaking his head. 

“No.” Anger blooming on her face. “No, why the fuck would you say that Stan. Why the fuck would you even think that.” 

She was fuming, a look crossing her face he had never seen before. He had never seen her this thrown before, and he hadn’t the smallest inkling as to why her anger grew tenfold in the face of his statement. 

“Because I ain’t no good and you damn well know it!” Voice raising, hackles rising. 

“No!” She shakes her head, fingers fisted into his coat sleeves. “You are good, Stan! I don’t wanna hear that utter bullshit from you, don’t say that to me. I don’t believe it, not for a second.” Shaking her head, refusing to leave his gaze. "You're kind to me, you're considerate to me. You're good to me." She reasoned. But he was only ever really good to her if anything. Only kind in the face of her everything.

He thinks of his parents then, their image mirroring their own, but only for a moment. Arguments in front seats of cars and in front of televisions. How they would bend and snap back to each other, how he figured his father would snap and his mother would lie, to soothe him. She would lie, to see the end of the argument, to soothe frustration and heal hurt. But he figured it had more to do with his father's temper more than anything, more to do with raised voices and raised fists. But she was a terrible liar, his Doc, and he would swear to be less of a terrible grump.

He slumps in his seat, turning glassy eyes ahead of him. 

“I just didn’t want you to have to lie for me, hun.” He hadn’t called her that in weeks, a flickering memory of that dream always made him flush at the enderment. But he enjoyed how she melted when he did call her that, so he’d concede his embarrassment for her. 

“Stan, we can do this.” She slides closer, into the middle spot of the long bench, reaching her hand to his chin and pulling him into an earnest gaze. “Stan we can do anything, we will do anything, to get your brother home. And if it means lying like this then I'm prepared to do it.” She chuckles, humourlessly. “Especially because I’m the one who got us into this mess.” 

She’s beautiful, he thinks, this close. Diner light seeping in through the dashboard window, her eyes looking deeper than he'd ever been allowed to notice. She's even more beautiful, as she giggles across from him, slipping a stolen diner spoon into his hand. Slipping her fingers around the stolen object and his fingers. He chuckles finally, he's a terrible influence. His heart settled into that familiar aching sickness, something he doesn't dismiss as much now. Now that it felt as familiar as her. There was a certain comfort he fell into when it came to the feeling and her now, one that made his heart race.

It wasn’t a mess though, what she had done, but it did solidify what he had to do next. 

He had been thinking about it for a while, thinking about what sitting in one spot would bring to his, their, doorstep. Thought of the crimes he had left behind, skipping from state to state. It's what had kept him up late at night during those early summer months. What had made him linger around the door late some of those nights also, what if it all caught up to him? Would she be safe? 

No, he figured now. Now that she had intrinsically tied herself to him, she was safest next to him. That she hadn't shut any door, that there was a way out, but only for the old him. So she wouldn’t be leaving, but that old part of him would have to. Protect her, them.

He sighs, ready for the conversation they would have to have. He would have to be more honest about himself, he warmed, kinda like her. But really only with her. 

“There's something I gotta do then, hun.” He shuffles, leaning into her warm palm along his cheek. “I gotta die.”

She pales next to him. 

[hannieehaee]

LOST IN STEREO - teaser

18+ / mdi

summary: after kicking you out of your own band to seek success with the band on his own, vernon finds his plans falling through, all the while you'd reached success on your own. now leading your own label, vernon finds himself having to earn your forgiveness, not realizing how badly he'd hurt you years back.

content: friends2enemies2lovers!vernon, band!au, drummer!vernon, guitarist!reader, unrequited crush (kinda), pining, vernon kicks you out of your band bc ur a girl (asshole, ik), really incorrect music industry terminology (i know nothing about music oops), afab reader, reader becomes a producer after being kicked from vernon's band, seokmin, chan, hannie and kwannie are in the band, smut, penetrative sex, dry humping, fingering, etc.

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 433 (teaser); 8.8k (full fic)

release date: june 3rd

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: i know the summary and content are all over the place, but i promise the story in itself is coherent</3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

"Fuck! Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?"

He winced at the sudden sight of you upon turning a corner in the huge building he was currently exploring, never having expected to bump into you there.

"I work here, Vernon. I would've expected you to do some research on the labels you're auditioning for."

"W-wait. What do you mean you work here?"

"I'm a producer here. What? Surprised?"

"N-no!" he spluttered.

Fuck, you looked good. No, scratch that. You looked beautiful beyond belief.

How long had it been? Three? Four years?

He still felt horribly about it. You know, that whole situation in which he threw you under the bus for his own benefit; only for everything to come crashing down on him immediately after. Not only did he feel like an asshole, but also like a huge idiot. Letting go of a friendship just for a failed attempt at success would go down as the dumbest thing Vernon ever engaged in.

In his defense, he was a teenager at the time. Okay, maybe he was freshly 19, but it felt like the same thing back then. He had been an idiot who dumped his best friend and crush just for a chance in the music industry. What he had thought that to be the smartest move to make for the future of your shared band, ended up becoming his greatest mistake. To this day, he still thought back on it with shame.

What sucked the most was how talented he knew you were. That, and the knowledge that he bad been the sole person to blame for taking this opportunity away from you – from taking your own band away from you.

He quickly came to realize that it had been a horrible mistake, but it was too late by then. Contractually speaking, you had never really existed within the group. Your friendship had also crumbled soon after, despite your reassurance that all you wanted was the best for the band, even if that meant they'd continue on without you.

At the time, you had been the band's sole music producer, and song writer, and engineer, and you were the one who had a macbook with garage band on it, and–

"Vernon!"

Fuck. Had he been in his head this whole time?

You looked annoyed. Also way more grown and mature than when he last saw you at 19 years old. Fuck, did he mention you looked insanely hot?

"Sorry, I, uh, as I was saying," he cleared his throat, "Of course I'm not surprised. You're the most talented person I've ever known."

...

a/n: lol sorry for how abrupt the teaser is, i wasn't sure how to cut it</3

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

[galaxynajma]

Blue Lock driving headcanons Why? Well why not

Btw I have zero idea what I’m even talking about here

Isagi:

Isagi was always use to either his dad or mom driving him around so he wouldn’t really think of getting a license ( especially when he’s in bluelock ), but at some point in few years he realized that the number 1 striker should probably know how to drive

Bachira

Probably knows how to drive a bike, besides that the closest thing he ever got to driving a car was one of them toy ones his classmate had

He would just let one of his friends ( aka Isagi ) drive him around , he’s more of a backseat princess than a passenger one

Chigiri:

Chigiri just lets his mom drive him around to school and such . His sister does as well when he’s visiting her

Chigiri is just a princess

Kunigami:

Sister kunigami was actually teaching Ren how to drive… but then Bluelock happened.. and then the wildcard

But after everything is settled he does touch the idea of learning how to drive again

Barou:

Barou got a sports car, black with red leather seats, for his 18th birthday from his father. A week or so later he got his license

he drives his two little sisters EVERYWHERE. The moment one or both of them are feeling a little down by just a little, Barou immediately gets the car ready to go to the mall and spoil them rotten

Barou has a couple of rules when it comes to having people in his car . And the number 1 rule is " NO EATING IN THE CAR ". Also has extra floor mats

Those rules don’t apply to his sisters btw

Shidou:

Does Shidou have a license? No , does he know how to drive? Yes , is he good at it? WELLL-

You won’t die but the amount of stress you’ll feel probably isn’t good ( unless your name is Itoshi Sae )

Aiku:

He knows how to drive ofc , after training with the U20 team he’s dangling his carkeys loudly with a cocky smug smirk asking if anyone’s up for a ride

He wants to learn how to ride a motorcycle at some point, do you know .. increase his popularity with the ladies

Karasu:

When Karasu’s 18th birthday was around the corner his older sister and grandma were teaching him late at night. Granny kept nagging at his ear the whole time .. but don’t worry everything tuned out alright, took his driving lesson a week after

Otoya:

Otoya thought about learning about how to drive just so he can seem more cool but ends up forgetting about it .after he met Karasu during bluelock he just uses him as his personal ride from now on

Yukimiya:

Yukki knows enough to drive around late at night he knows that if his eye condition gets worse that he won’t be able to do something like this again 

Rin:

Rin always knew that he’ll get his driving license eventually but he wasn’t in a rush… but the moment he heard both Isagi and Sae have theirs , Rin had to get his as soon as possible when he turned 18

Sae:

Sae has a license, he just likes it when other people drive him around instead( aka his manager)

The only reason he ever got it was because he wanted to go to the beach late at night alone without any worry

Lorenzo:

Snuffy had the great idea of teaching Lorenzo how to drive! … yeah the first time didn’t go so well.. might have ended with Snuffy needing his car fixed.. but Lorenzo is definitely getting better!!

Kaiser and Sae had the misfortune of being Lorenzo’s first two guests to ride around with… Kaiser felt like he was gonna have a heart attack meanwhile Sae was regretting his life choices that lead him here

Kaiser:

Kaiser finally had it .. a beautiful custom designed sports car , a hunk of steel and metal that was peak german engineering , something to show off how far he has come , something he bought from his well earned money

Ray Dark: it’s beautiful . Good choice, Kaiser.

Kaiser: oh ah- Well you don’t think that I, Michael kaiser , would have poor taste.

Ray Dark: No no of course not .. you’re no longer that helpless 15 year old I found. Why don’t you take her for a little ride?

Shit.

Kaiser: OH- um why of course - just give me a -

Ray Dark: You don’t know how to drive, don’t you?

…

Ray Dark: * sigh * I guess you’ll have to take some lessons first . Don’t want you getting into trouble

Ness:

Ness has always ridden a bike growing up, honestly if it was up to him he would use a bike forever

It fits his whole aesthetic you know? He has a lot of silly little wizard themed stickers on his old bike

He thought about riding a motorcycle before… hmmm

.

The end

[wifihunters]

There's something to be said for the strangeness of therapy and understanding not only why you do things, but why certain things make you feel like Death for no reason and sometimes why other people do things as well.

And its all well and good except its... tiring.

You go, you pay, you scoop out the seeds and flesh with a blunt spoon until you hit the rind, and then you sit there across from a sad, kind professional while the two of you try to sort out how to put it back together.

And no one thanks you for it outright. Your mom calls and you actually pick up for the first time in a month and she says you sound clearer. Your brother has nothing to say about the amphetamines in your bag because he knows something changed enough that he says an "I love you" at the end of a visit and gets one back. Your wife pulls you back to reality and you find affection and touch tolerable enough to do the same for her the week after without your skin crawling.

But then you start to feel muscles pull and things strain. Anger comes (real anger, not snapped frustration, not survival fighting, but deep, indignant flares) and it fires like an engine left to coagulate for years. It feels like an unwieldy hammer too large to control and too easy to swing all at once. You're afraid to pick it up. You're more afraid to have it taken away again.

So you start to demolish your own foundation. You find the rotten pylons holding up your childhood and leave them in the mud. You cannot move them now, only balance new beams better than your parents did.

Then the hardest room is next. The cozy sitting room with the day bed you kept open all hours and days for anyone to rest on, it goes down with the rotten floor. You never knew the mold had reached out here--you thought that was hidden behind the other doors, under your own bed, not in this space. Not here in the warm light of pride, of being kind and useful, where you curled up in too small of a chair and basked, knowing you had earned love with your tired limbs and heavy eyes. You drag the day bed to the curb and apologize to everyone who knocks. The new floor is bare and cold, the silence echoes in the empty room, but you start to ponder what color paint you might like to decorate yourself in. The roller is lighter than you expected. Maybe the bedroom deserves a coat.

And you brace for some pushback. Not everyone likes the color. Someone else compliments the new couch (only a couch now, an overnight bed for the cats and no one else) and someone else asks why you took the old one to the dump without telling them first. Some of them leave. Some of them put a crack in your newly painted drywall as they do. Others stay, asking if movie night is still on. You wipe your eyes and sweep the dust and ask if they'd like a drink before starting. The foundation shivers, but the walls remain.

Its mundane and earth-shattering and boring and the most terrifying all at once. No one will stop you from quitting. Healing is voluntary and the easiest responsibility on a long list to drop, and yet now that the mold is gone you understand, maybe, what it might be like to even want a home in your own mind and skin. Not a hotel, carefully crafted with beige walls and fluffed pillows, but a home.

[jakesangel]

late night drive with jake ꣑୧ - requested

notes : there you go bby @yunjaeda >.< i hope it's as good as you thoight i would make it <3 - not proofread i’m sorry :/

it's 10 pm and as your about to turn the lights off, you hear your front door ringing. knowing it can only be one person, at this late hour, you happily open the door already smiling thinking of jake making you an unnoticed surprise. hello, my love, he says as he hugs you tight. your precious boyfriend is only wearing his large hoodie paired w his sweatpants, but with his cute bare face and messy hairstyle, he looks more huggable than ever. i couldn't help til tomorrow to see you, he murmured in your hair, as he hugs you impossibly tighter. you can only chuckle and pet his hair as you know his embrace last usually long. the silence is comfortable, jake small pecks on your neck making you laugh from time to time earning to feel his smile on ur your skin. when he finally thinks his daily quota of hugging you is reached, he pulls back in a jump, too eager to tell you tonight's plan, actually i'm not staying here tonight, BUT before you pout at me and i'll give you everything, he starts teasing you, i have a surprise. follow me ?

and here you are, in the passenger seat, you know jake loves when you touch his hair, so as you wait for him to get ready, you brush the hair on his nap, making him slow down in his movement and hum as he enjoys your touch. he closes his eyes, and softly smile, silently thanking you for your sudden affection. he takes your hand away, and kiss it before putting it back on your leg, as much as i love it, i need to focus baby, he sadly say, finally starting the engine, where are we going btw ? you ask. he softly chuckle, eyes still on the road, no where baby, i just want to spend time with you. like late night drive ? oh by the way, can you connect my phone to the car, i made a playlist specially for this. his eyes rapidly move from the road to you, as he wants to see your reaction to his well thought playlist. his smile gets wider as he sees yours, happy to make you happy. car rides with the one who drives me crazy ? jake- you laugh, you're unbelivable, as you keep on laughing, what ? you always drive me crazy baby~ he replies back, his flirty side coming out. come on put it on !

the car ride goes smoothly, the car filled with laugher, the front windows rolled down, making your hair and his, fly around, making the atmosphere even funnier I PASS THE MIC, YOU STAY STILL YOU STAY YOU STAY, you guys sing-scream along the loud beat. your happy jake took a road far away from the city, the both of you would have waken up everyone. you laugh as you're done singing, followed my jake who slows the car. oh ? why are you slowing down ? you nevoursly ask, i thought we were having fun ? he juts looks at you with his trustful smile of his. he takes your hand in his, and hold it along the hand brake, don't worry baby, my surprise isn't just a car drive. aren't you wondering why we're so far away from the city ?

after stoping the engine, he goes around the car really fast, opening your door and offering his hand to help you, after you my lady, he playfully says. he then leads you to the back of the car, and open the truck only for you to see a plaid beautifully laid in it along with fairy light and snacks he thoughtfully paid. i thoight we could also stargaze, he turns you around and lower himself to look deeply in your eyes. what do you think ? he says with a smile hiding a hint of overthinking. jake- you're so... ? you're found speechless, his affection filling your body. you have the most thoughtful and caring boyfriend and he still show signs of insecurity, you're unbelievable, jake. you finally say as you hug him by the neck tight. you're so perfect, i love you, you whisper to his ear, not knowing what else to say but gets you're currently feeling. and hearing this makes him wrap his arm tighter around your waist and dig his head further into your neck, feeling proud of himself but mostly feeling joy as he knows and feels you love him.

after this heartfelt moment, he takes your hand again to help you jump in the truck, careful princess, he says as he put a hand on your forehead. he follows you, and bring you close to him, your head in between his laid arm n his chest. he hums in contentment, like always when he is in contact with you. as the silent falls comfortly between the two of you, you look up to him and his good looking side profile. tho the stars is beautiful, your boyfriend's agape lips is prettier to look at. his tall nose always digging into your neck, or his lips always saying sweet things to you. the said lips finally break into a laugh, jake's embarrassment coming out of his body, why are you looking at me, the show is ahead of you, he says, finally looking at you, i have a prettier star to look at, earning a shy laugh from him. it's rare occurrence you flirt with jake as he is usually the one making you fold, but everytime you do so, his shyness comes out. you're gonna be the death of me, his eyes falls on your lips, which doesn't go unnoticed from you. you come closer to jake, your hand coming up to his chest, signaling him to kiss you, which he totally gives in, his hand coming to your cheeks before diving in.

the kiss starts slow and soft, him wanting to pour nothing but his love for you. his thumb stroking your skin softly and his i love you's, fills you with nothing but warmth. it's only when he is out of breath, chasing your lips when you try to bake away, he breaks the kiss, but keeping you close, his forehead on yours, god i love you so much, y/n.

perm tag list ( open ) : @allurecile @luvj4key @stwrjvke @neos127 @goldenretrieverjakezgirlbaby @heeheeswifey @sjylouvre @txnwvc @oopshee @luvlyhee @en-ner-jay @en-chantedtomeetyou @erenmyman @hoonion @jlheon @ghostiiess @vlaeaex . @enhablr

[anxious-lee]

Nothing To Prove || Gravity Falls Tickle Fic ||

A/N: there's a lot of buildup at the start but THIS IS A TICKLE FIC I SWEAR! more than anything though, I'm writing this for the sake of developing characters. This is familial love so if I see any i*cest, I am blocking you on sight

Summary: When Ford comes to realize how much Dipper looks up to him, he seeks out a way to show his young nephew that there's no need to be intimidated by him.

Word count: 2,454

----

Dipper

Life just got a whole galaxy bigger.

Dipper thought he knew what his life would become when he found that old dusty book in the forest; he'd pursue adventure, get into danger, fight monsters.

But meeting his number one hero? And then finding out that he's related?

Not a chance.

It'd been a year since Dipper and his sister left Gravity Falls. They had lots of time that school year to ruminate on everything they had been through together. In the span of three months, their whole universe had turned inside out.

They had another uncle. Someone else to look out for and protect them. Mabel, as she is with all news of this sort, was over the moon. Dipper, however, wasn't as content. It wasn't that he didn't like Great Uncle Ford. Far from it. He loved him unconditionally. He worshipped the ground he walked on. He would fight a thousand beasts to earn his mentor's pride. And that was the problem.

Dipper had spent so long dreaming of the author as this distant hero; an intellectual mastermind that surpassed all around him. He dreamt of meeting him, yes. Bombarding him with questions, absolutely. But now the man was part of his family. The same family that he cracked stupid fart jokes and goofed around with.

Dipper wasn't prepared to have someone so important to him in his life on a permanent basis. He couldn't help but feel a little small around Ford, like every move he made was a chance to embarrass himself in front of his idol.

After his first summer in Gravity Falls ended, Dipper hoped that his overwhelming sense of awe would pass with the time, and he would grow more comfortable around this new addition to the family. But the moment he stepped off of that bus and saw his great-uncle there to greet him, he knew it wouldn't be quite that easy.

He volunteered for as many of Ford's experiments as he could. He offered as much help as he could provide. When faced with an obstacle, Dipper made sure to prove to his uncle that he was smart and tough beyond his years. This, as one might expect, is a difficult and exhausting image to maintain. Being "the perfect, mature man of science" was hard when you were a young, hormonal teenage boy. But that wasn't going to stop Dipper.

When Ford had asked if him if he wanted to help engineer a stronger form of glass that could withstand abnormally high temperatures, he nearly fell over with excitement. He was going to be the best lab assistant Ford could ask for.

It seemed, however, that he couldn't get that right after all, because when bringing over the regular glass jar for experimentation, it slipped through his fingers and shattered.

Dipper was mortified. Not only had he broken the constant variable in their experiment, but possibly also the trust Ford placed in him to be a responsible assistant. How could he have been so careless? Was their experiment ruined now? Did Ford think he wasn't taking this seriously?

"Oh my gosh! Oh my- I- I'm so sorry, Great Uncle Ford! I don't know what happened. I thought I had it" Dipper rambled, throat tightening.

"Aw shoot," Ford cursed under his breath, "It's okay, Dipper, it happens. Here, why don't you go fetch me a new jar from the back shelves while I sweep up this mess?"

"Act- Actually you know what, I think you might actually have an easier time doing this if I wasn't here. I- I don't want to get in your way. " Dipper shuffled back towards the door.

"But I thought you wanted to-" Ford turned to his nephew only to find that he was already gone.

---

Ford

It was unusual, and not the kind that Ford enjoyed. The puzzling kind of unusual.

The conclusion did not follow the variables. Variable one: Ford was conducting an experiment. Variable two: Ford asked Dipper for assistance. Variable three: Dipper was eager to help. Conclusion: Dipper had panicked and ran off. It just wasn't right. Something was off balance.

Now, in a technical situation, Ford could figure out the root cause himself. He had well over thirty years of practice doing so. But this was a human being. Moreso, this was his great nephew, and he wasn't so skilled in the people area. He needed to outsource this predicament with someone who knew Dipper longer than he had. Someone he could trust to tell him what he was doing wrong.

That someone in particular was tucking away a large medieval flail in the cupboards of the sitting room when Ford found him. What it was for, Ford thought it better not to ask.

"Stanley, can I talk to you about something?" He said.

"I didn't know it was a bear, honest!" Stan yelled.

"What?"

"Uhh, nothing. What's on your mind?"

"I have the strangest feeling that Dipper is more anxious than normal. He ran out of my lab this morning looking like he'd seen a ghost, which I have ruled out as a possibility because the air did not smell at all of sulfur. Anyway, the point is, I think something's wrong with him. You've known him far longer than I have. I thought maybe you would have better insight into these things" Ford explained.

Stan stood silently for a moment.

"Stan?"

"Oh sorry I was just enjoying the moment you finally came to me for advice"

"Stanley."

His brother quirked an eyebrow at him. "You don't gotta be a genius to figure this one out, Poindexter. The kid's afraid of looking bad in front of ya."

Ford was stunned into silence. This was a new feeling. An new, terribly odd feeling.

"What?"

"Come on, you've got to have noticed by now. He looks to you like you're a god. He practically worships the ground you walk on. You were like his hero before you'd even met him. You think he's not gonna feel some pressure to live up to your standard? He just wants you to be proud of him."

"I love him! He's my brother's grandson! And of course I'm proud of him. He's very remarkable for his age" Ford said.

"Then why don't you tell him that once in a while."

Ford lost himself in thought.

"Well, time to get back to restocking my weapons. Good luck with your family tension. I'll call you for dinner," Stan sauntered away, seemingly unbothered by the problem, "Prepping for battle, do do do..."

Once again, Ford was left alone to think.

---

This wasn't the first time that Ford had heard someone tell him that he had a standoff-ish impression on people, but he never thought it would impact his kin. Someone he treasured so greatly. Now that he knew how Dipper was feeling, he couldn't waltz around and act like he didn't know. Something had to be done. The only issue was, he didn't know what.

Ford waited a couple days before asking Dipper to rejoin his experiments, knowing that the boy probably wouldn't be willing to assist him just yet after what happened. To his relief, Dipper agreed.

It was still painful to know that his nephew was intimidated by him, but it felt nice just to have him by his side again being his seemingly normal self.

The day went without a hitch this time. In fact, things went quicker than expected and they finished early. It was as they were readying themselves to leave when Ford spoke.

"Thank you for your help today, Dipper. I've been having trouble operating all of this machinery by myself lately. Must have thrown out my back or something."

"I wouldn't worry about it," Dipper replied, "Muscles get tighter with age, so I'm sure it's normal."

Ford turned to look down at his nephew. "Are you calling me old?"

The boy paled. "Wh- I- Uh- I- I wasn't-"

"I'm afraid I have no choice but to punish you for your disrespect" the scientist said darkly.

Before Dipper could have time to overthink that threat, Ford pulled the boy into his arms, sat himself on the ground and started tickling his belly.

The first few seconds were filled with frantic babbling; jumbled syllables trying to make themselves into a coherent sentence. Ford wasn't hearing a "stop", so he didn't.

Dipper giggled hysterically. His face had instantly screwed itself up tight and was looking for a way to bury itself into some hiding place. "GREATUNCLEFORHOHORD! WHAT ARE YOU DOHOHOHOING?!"

"Tickling you, of course! I thought that was obvious," Ford answered with cheer, all pretend-seriousness gone. He chuckled. "I guess you inherited more from me than I thought."

Dipper couldn't seem to figure out what to do with his hands, until he settled on hiding his face with them.

"Aw, don't be shy, son. I'm not the author today. Today, I'm just your uncle," Ford then added with a growl, "Your uncle: the tickle monster!"

The boy's arms fell from his face, settling down on his lap like little t-rex arms. He seemed to have surrendered to the silliness of it and didn't bother to fight.

Wonderful, Ford thought, that means he trusts me!

As Ford moved from belly to sides to ribs, Dipper's laughter went up and down like a rollercoaster, his child-like smile never leaving his face. "IHIHIHI'M SORRYHIHIHI!"

"Nuh uh, kid. "Sorry"'s not gonna cut it," Ford said playfully. He was surprised how good he was at this. He didn't have much experience with playing with children, and he had thought his decades of interdimensional travel would've hardened him to such silliness. Thank the gods that it hadn't.

As Ford's hand started to travel up to the boy's underarm, the boy shrieked and suddenly found the will to fight.

"EHEHEHEK! NONONONONO!"

Ford couldn't help himself laughing at his adorable little ward. "Ticklish there, huh?"

"YEHEHES" Dipper cried.

"Okay, okay, I'll make you a deal. You take back what you said about me being old, and I'll stop tickling you."

Ford had expected the kid to be worn out by now. He thought it was only fair to offer him an out. To his surprise, he didn't take it.

Dipper seemed to think it over for a second, then shook his head with an extra giggle, one that was not from the tickling.

This kid is going to be the death of me, Ford thought, not a hint of regret in his mind.

"Okay, if you say so," the man said playfully, and dug all six fingers into the boy's hollows.

A shriek, and then more rambling, and then loud laughter.

Dipper, despite being tickled within an inch of his life, looked happier than Ford had ever seen him. If this was a dream, Ford did not want to wake up.

"I've got some questions for you, Dipper. Smile for yes and laugh for no, ya got it?"

All he could do was laugh.

"Okay, are you smart?"

Dipper sunk his chin in to his chest.

"Dipper, this won't work if you say yes and no" Ford remarked with fake incredulousness, "Okay, hmmmm... are you brave?"

The teen began to snicker.

"I don't think you understand the rules of this game," Ford said, which only made Dipper laugh harder.

"Alright, alright, last one. Are you ticklish?"

Dipper let out a snort at that infernal question.

"I'll take that as a yes," Ford smiled smugly.

After several more minutes of goofing around, Dipper finally had enough.

"OKAYHYHYHY OKAYHYHY! I TAKE IT BAHAHACK!"

"Good lad." And with that, Ford released his victim.

Dipper wrapped his arms around himself and giggled till there were no more laughs left in him.

"You okay, son? I didn't go too crazy, did I?"

"No no, I'm fihihine. Mabel's put me through much worhorse."

"I can believe that. She got that from your uncle Stanley, you know."

After having regained his breath, Dipper got up from his uncle's lap. "So... are you really not mad about the jar I broke the other day?"

"Oh, Dipper, of course I'm not. You should see the things I've broken down here. You'd be shocked."

"But when you make a mistake, it's different." Dipper recoiled. Apparently, he didn't mean to let that slip.

"What do you mean?"

Dipper's timidness was returning, and Ford almost regretted even asking.

"It's just... you've done so many great things and are so perfect the rest of the time that the mistakes you make don't count as much."

That was some seriously flawed logic, but Ford chose not to point it out.

Dipper continued. "I make too many mistakes."

"Dipper, you're supposed to make mistakes. You're twelve. Do you think I was able to do all the things I do now at your age? Not even remotely.

"And more to the point, you don't have to embarrassed about those mistakes. Especially not with me."

"But you're different! You're the author! The author I'd been searching for all summer. You're a dimension-hopping scientist! And surprise, surprise, you're even cooler in person! And I'm just... so... small.

"I keep trying to make myself useful, to be someone you can be proud of, but-"

Ford kneeled down and placed both hands on the kid's shoulders. "Dipper, listen very close to me. I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to really hear me, understand?"

Dipper hesitantly nodded.

"I am so proud of you. You're my great nephew. I'm proud of you every minute of every day. That's not something that can change. You've got nothing to prove to me. You make me proud simply by being who you are. Never question that. Can you do that for me, son?"

The boy looked near to tears.

Oh gods, Ford thought, did he say something wrong? He thought this would make him feel better, not worse! Should he-

Little arms suddenly hugged his neck tight. "Yeah... yeah I can."

Ford could not get his arms around him fast enough.

"Now, don't you ever go comparing yourself to me. What a disservice to your incredible self."

Dipper hugged tighter.

Ford himself could feel little pin pricks in his own eyes. He released his hug and cleared his throat.

"Well, I think we've had enough excitement down here for one day. What do you say we head back upstairs for dinner."

Dipper wiped his eyes with a happy smile. "Sounds good to me."

The two walked back towards the door, a new kind of bond formed between them. It felt like something had been accomplished today, and that was all either of them could ask for.

"You are old, though."

"Oh, I'll show you old. Get back here!"

----

This has been an idea of mine for quite some time. Rewatching the show was just the straw that broke this writer's back apparently. So happy to have finally written this ❤️

[dangerpronebuddie]

hi maggie 🥰

70 for the 100 kiss prompts please!!

Hi Nolan 🥰

I loved this one! Hope you like it darling 💕

Kiss Me Once Cause You Know I Had A Long Night 30/?

70. An accidental kiss that confuses you both, but only a moment passes before you crash your lips back against each other's

Summary:

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

(read below!)

They're sitting on Eddie's couch, talking over some (admittedly dull) action movie Chim recommended, one night they both managed to have free.

Eddie had ended things with Marisol at the makeshift wedding in the hospital, and hasn't been eager to "get back out there." He still doesn't know why he decided then was the best time, but it was for the best. When you spend the entire day wishing you could marry your best friend and not your girlfriend, there's something wrong with the relationship.

Buck and Tommy had decided to stay friends, and the three of them still got together often for fights or a beer, (no basketball. Not again), and Buck hasn't jumped back into dating yet.

And, with Chris being the social butterfly Eddie never was, the kid was at yet another sleepover, leaving Buck and Eddie without any plans.

So, pizza and about three beers later, Buck is deciding whether to stay the night. Something he hasn't done in months. Not since he came to Eddie after the lightning.

“Come on, do you really want to drive home at one in the morning?” Eddie reasons. He pretends his reasons for offering the couch are noble. They're actually… kinda pathetic. Be in love with your best friend and try to keep your dignity, or your sanity.

Buck smiles and sips his beer. “If I didn't know any better I'd say you've missed me.”

I always miss you when you go, Eddie doesn't say. “Oh yeah. I don't know how I manage to sleep without your snoring as a lullaby,” he says instead, tugging on a curl behind Buck's ear.

Buck gently elbows him in the ribs. “If that's your way to convince me…”

“I never said my negotiation techniques were good,” Eddie shrugs.

“They're terrible,” Buck scoffs, earning himself an elbow to the ribs right back. He giggles and ducks his head with a smile, pulling his lower lip between his teeth. “Okay, I'll stay. Wouldn't want you to have to sleep without my snoring as your white noise machine.”

“What do you know? My negotiation techniques worked!” Eddie grins.

Buck rolls his eyes and shoves at his shoulder. “I will never admit it.”

“Actions speak louder than words,” Eddie shrugs. “Goodnight,” he smiles, leaning in for a quick kiss.

“Night,” Buck says softly, meeting him in the middle.

Wait a minute.

Eddie pulls back like he's been shocked. And he has. In way more ways than one.

He has no idea what made him do it.

Maybe the box holding his feelings for Buck had finally exploded. Maybe his brain got up the courage without telling him the plan. Maybe it was the easy affection they'd been exchanging recently. Shoulder touches, lingering hugs, knees pressed together in the engine or on the couch.

Maybe it was just Buck.

Either way, Eddie feels like he's been struck by lightning again.

Judging by the wide eyed stare he's getting from Buck, he's at least not alone in his confusion.

“Eds,” Buck whispers, glancing at Eddie's lips.

“I'm sor-”

Buck surges forward, stealing the words from his lips and cupping his cheek. Eddie sighs into the kiss and melts against him, reaching up to card his fingers through soft curls.

Buck grips Eddie's hips, nudging him until he gets the message. Eddie throws a leg over Buck and straddles him, never once breaking their kiss.

He has no idea what's happening. But there's no way he's going to stop it.

Buck slips his hands beneath Eddie's henley, splaying his palms on his ribs as he teases the seam of his lips apart. Eddie makes a soft noise as Buck licks into his mouth. He tangles his fingers in Buck's curls and settles more firmly in his lap.

They kiss until the need for oxygen separates them. Eddie rests his forehead against Buck's. Buck traces nonsensical patterns on Eddie's lower back.

“Guess actions really do speak louder than words,” Buck smirks. Eddie kisses the expression off his face.

“Stay,” Eddie whispers, and it feels right. Asking Marisol to stay always made something sour twist in his gut.

All he feels now is butterflies, giddy and fizzy like champagne.

“That was the plan,” Buck says with a cheeky grin.

“Stay,” Eddie says again, pouring everything it's too soon to say into the word.

I want you, stay. Don't sleep on the couch, stay. I love you, stay.

Buck presses a soft kiss to his lips, just like their first kiss and yet somehow completely different. “Okay. I'll stay. For as long as you want me.”

“Forever,” Eddie whispers before kissing him again.

From 100 kiss prompts

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 3727

this is loosely based off of sympathy is a knife by charlie xcx, it’s a lot of world building please bear with me i have a vision (-﹏-。) also expect cursing. this is quite a long one (im working on multiple parts), i'll try to post as much as can.

part ii part iii part iv

All children are encouraged to do their best, dream big, and reach for the stars. But let's be honest: how many kids actually achieve that goal? How many adults can say they have been fighting for their place for far longer than they can remember?

Not a lot.

That kind of passion was rare. But perhaps it was more than passion; maybe it was the sick sense of wanting something bigger than yourself. Maybe she was just a workhorse that never learned when to stop. 

Growing up karting was where Yn found a love for motorsports, it was her dad that introduced her to it. A part of her felt for the older man; this had been his dream as much as it was hers. Back then, it had always been just a hobby, even though she had already achieved multiple wins. She never thought it would come this far.

At 16, she was picked up by the Red Bull junior team to race in various junior categories, eventually making it into Formula 3 and then Formula 2. Even then scoring points and race wins came easy. Years of hard work and dedication had done her well, with many saying that a Formula 1 career was surely in the cards for her.

And if she was being honest, Yn was hungry for that Formula 1 seat.

Yn’s laptop lit up with an email, enclosed was her contract with VCARB. She was going into Formula 1.  Was it arrogant to say she had been expecting this? Could you blame her for asserting it wasn’t a matter of if, but when? 

But signing the contract should have felt like a victory, a promise fulfilled, a chance for everything she’d worked toward to pay off. But as the seconds flew by, Yn could already feel the weight settling over her, heavy as a storm cloud. The stakes had never been this high, and the whispers were already there, quietly accusing, scrutinizing. Her entrance into F1 wasn’t just a testament to her skill and ambition; it was a flashpoint, a reason for some to undermine her achievements and question her right to be here.

F1 wasn’t just a men’s world—it was a battleground where “passion” for her felt dangerously close to “obsession,” and her relentless pursuit of victory was both her strength and her vulnerability. Yn knew that she couldn’t just be good; she had to be perfect, ruthless in her pursuit for wins and podiums, and undeterred by every sly remark and skeptic. Sympathy, after all, was nothing but a knife in disguise, and she’d long since learned not to expect it from anyone, even her team.

Her first day at VCARB was a whirlwind of meetings, briefings, and countless faces both excited and skeptical. The engineers studied her, sizing up the girl who was stepping into a seat she’d earned, but one they seemed to question if she could keep. Her jaw tightened with determination—she would prove every one of them wrong, and not out of spite but out of an unyielding hunger to carve her name in F1 history.

Yuki arrived in the afternoon, a familiar face in a sea of unknowns. With an easy grin, he crossed the garage, his demeanor effortlessly lighthearted as he joked with the engineers before catching her eye. “Didn’t think I’d be seeing you here so soon,” he teased, a glimmer of pride in his eyes that he knew she’d earned.

She let a small smile slip, and for a moment, the walls she’d erected came down. “Surprised? I thought you’d know better,” she quipped back, crossing her arms.

“Not surprised,” he replied. “Just excited. Maybe I’ll finally have someone here to keep me on my toes.”

But behind their friendly exchange was an edge, a reminder that this was a competition and that teammates or not, they were both vying for survival in the world’s most ruthless racing series. They had both clawed their way here, and no amount of camaraderie could change the fact that every second on the track was a chance to prove they deserved to stay.

Underneath Yuki’s easygoing nature, she knew there was a fierce competitor. She’d seen him race, seen the raw talent that made him as unpredictable as he was quick. Yn knew they’d push each other to the limits, that their friendship would inevitably become a duel of ambition. And she wanted that—it made her hungrier, sharper.

But there was something different about her fight. Being the first female F1 driver in years meant her wins were never just hers; every success and failure became ammunition for those who doubted women in motorsport. There was no room for mistakes, and any slip-up would be amplified, dissected in the press, on social media, even in private conversations she was never meant to hear.

One night, as she stared out at the empty track after hours, she felt Yuki’s presence beside her. “They’re going to be watching everything I do,” she said, voice low, a rare admission of vulnerability.

“They watch all of us,” he replied softly, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “But I know how hard you’ve worked to get here. And… well, if they think they can beat you down, you’re gonna prove them wrong. Just… stay hungry, yeah?” He nudged her shoulder gently.

“Hungry?” she scoffed, steeling herself. “I’m starving.” 

Yuki chuckled, but it was laced with respect. “Good. Because that’s what it takes.”

The season had started on fire for Yn. Her first four races saw her consistently in the points, an impressive feat for any rookie, let alone one under as much pressure and scrutiny as she was. Headlines praised her talent, with journalists and fans alike marveling at her ability to keep up with more seasoned drivers. Her team, too, seemed to start letting their guard down, seeing her not as a gamble, but as an asset. But as is often the case in Formula 1, the success didn't last forever.

Her fifth race began with promise, but Yn knew almost from the start that something was off. The car felt different, twitchy around the corners, each lap feeling more and more like she was on a knife’s edge. Halfway through, she could feel her grip on the track slipping, but she pushed harder, unwilling to lose ground.

With just a few laps remaining, the inevitable happened.

The crash was swift and brutal. The car spun out in the third sector, her back tires skidding as she lost control. She hit the barriers hard, the sound of carbon fiber breaking echoing through her helmet. Her vision blurred as the world spun, then finally stopped, leaving her breathless in the cockpit, staring at the wreckage around her.

Her engineer’s voice came through her headset immediately. “Yn, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she said breathlessly, trying to steady herself, adrenaline still pumping as she felt the sting of defeat sink in. “I… I’m sorry. I lost it. The car just—slipped.”

There was a pause on the other end, a moment that felt like judgment even through the crackling radio. “We’re glad you’re okay. We’ll get you back to the garage. We’ll review the data,” her engineer replied, his voice careful.

Yuki’s voice came through on her personal channel moments later, after seeing her crash on his onboard. “Yn? You alright?” His tone was laced with concern, stripped of the usual playfulness.

She swallowed, fighting the frustration building in her chest. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just… pissed off.”

“You’ll be back next race,” he assured her, but she could only respond with silence. The shame of letting her team, her fans, and herself down weighed heavily on her.

In the post-race interview, Yn struggled to find the right words. The cameras focused on her, the flash of lights overwhelming as journalists fired questions, each one cutting a little deeper.

“Yn, it was a tough day. Do you think the pressure got to you out there?”

She clenched her fists, forcing a composed smile. “I don’t think it’s about pressure. Today just… wasn’t my day. The car was giving me some issues, and I did my best to control it. Sometimes, that’s just racing.”

“But after four races in the points, are you worried this is a sign of things to come?”

The question sliced through her like a knife, and she could feel the weight of the implication: that she was fragile, a fluke who’d just been lucky.

“No, I’m not worried,” she replied, her voice steady but tense. “One race doesn’t define my season. I’m here to compete, and I’ll be back even stronger next race.”

When the interviews ended, she caught Yuki’s eye across the paddock. He gave her a nod, a silent show of support that reminded her she wasn’t alone, even if it felt like she was carrying the world’s judgment on her shoulders.

The news coverage the next day was ruthless. Headlines screamed with exaggerated disappointment: “Yn Cracks Under Pressure?” and “First Female F1 Driver in Years Falters After Promising Start.” A few outlets were kinder, chalking up the crash to typical rookie mistakes and downplaying any concerns over her ability to handle the car. But most took the crash as an invitation to dissect her every move, doubting whether she could handle the demands of the sport.

Social media was ablaze, fans and critics alike chiming in, and Yn could barely stand to look. She knew this was part of the game, that everyone in F1 was under scrutiny, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that for her, the stakes were higher. Every failure she faced felt amplified, a reason for the world to question her right to be here.

Yuki called her that night, his voice calm and soothing against the chaos swirling around her.

“I’m just so pissed,” she admitted finally, her frustration cracking through her voice. “I wanted to prove that I belong here, and now… it feels like all anyone sees is this one mistake.”

“You know that’s not true,” he replied, a hint of warmth in his tone. “Everyone makes mistakes, even the greats. They’ve all crashed at some point. Don’t let them take that fire from you. Because once the season’s over, they’ll see what you’re made of.”

She took a shaky breath, comforted by his words. It was strange—she’d started this journey expecting every teammate to be a rival, another barrier to overcome. But in Yuki, she’d found someone who understood the relentless, hungry drive that fueled her, and who respected it.

The next morning, her team’s engineers ran a debrief, analyzing the telemetry and tire data from the crash. They assured her that she’d made the right call in pushing the car, that the twitchiness wasn’t imagined. Yn felt a flicker of relief; maybe she hadn’t just cracked under pressure, maybe it had been an unfortunate mix of circumstances. But no matter the reason, she knew she had to rise from this stronger than before.

It had been a long race, Jeddah was grueling and relentless, yet Yn had been on the verge of a breakthrough. She was fighting tooth and nail for P8, going wheel-to-wheel with Fernando Alonso in the final laps. She’d been holding her own, each move calculated, each corner taken with the precision she’d been honing for years. This was her shot, her chance to show everyone she wasn’t a fluke or a face in the crowd. She was ready to prove herself.

Then it happened.

They clashed in the final sector, both fighting for space. Fernando took the inside line, edging her out, and she, desperate to hold her position, stayed close, too close. Their wheels touched, and in a flash, her car lost stability, skidding and spinning before colliding with the barrier. The jolt left her breathless, her hands gripping the wheel as the rage took over.

Her engineer’s voice cracked through the radio. “Yn, are you okay? What happened?”

She clenched her jaw, trying to control the fury building up inside her. “That fucking guy, Alonso! He squeezed me—left me no room!” Her voice was shaking, frustration and adrenaline spilling over. “I had that position!”

There was a silence on the radio as they processed her words. “Copy, Yn. We saw the incident. Just stay calm.”

Stay calm? She’d given everything, and now, twice in a row, her race had ended in ruin.

After the race, Yn felt the press of cameras and microphones on her as she trudged toward the media pen. She could barely contain the frustration bubbling inside her, a storm barely held back as reporters closed in, questions already on their tongues.

“Yn, this is the second crash in a row. Are you feeling the pressure of Formula 1?”

“What’s your take on the incident with Alonso? Do you blame him?”

Yn took a steadying breath, but the calm she'd usually conjure wasn't there. “Look,” she said, voice tight, trying to keep her tone steady, “I know what happened out there, and Alonso gave me no space. I was holding my line, fighting for position like we all do. I’ll review the footage with the team, but if people think I can’t handle the pressure—they’re wrong.”

The next question felt even more loaded. “Is it challenging to maintain focus, given the scrutiny you’re under as the first female driver in years?”

She forced a smile, one that didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m not here to be a spectacle; I’m here to race. Everyone’s under pressure in this sport. It’s what makes us competitors. The scrutiny just makes me hungrier.”

Her words were pointed, but she could already feel the twisting of her words forming in the reporters’ minds, their pens scratching away, headlines already buzzing to life in their notebooks.

The news the next morning was merciless. Some articles analyzed her crash with Alonso, calling it a “rookie miscalculation,” while others openly questioned whether Yn’s composure was “cracking” under the scrutiny. The worst were the opinion pieces, suggesting she might be better suited to junior categories if she couldn’t handle the rigors of F1.

Yuki found her in the paddock later that evening, her expression set as she packed up her things, clearly wanting to avoid any more eyes on her. He walked over, hands in his pockets, a gentle smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his tone light. “Rough race out there. I saw the footage—Alonso really gave you no room.”

She shot him a look, her expression unreadable. “Thanks, Yuki, but I don’t need anyone to say it wasn’t my fault. I should’ve handled it better.”

“It wasn’t about fault,” he countered softly, unfazed by her edge. “It was a close fight. You held your ground. Besides, you’re doing something none of these people could even dream of.”

She let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shoving her race gloves into her bag. “Spare me the pep talk. I don’t need anyone’s sympathy. Especially not yours.”

He took a step closer, not backing down. “This isn’t sympathy, Yn. You’re one of the best rookies on the grid. Every one of us has crashed. I know what you’re going through, and I know how much you want this. But maybe don’t let their voices drown out what you already know—you deserve to be here.”

She wanted to tell him to stop, to remind him that it was different for her, that every mistake was fuel for those doubting her existence in this sport. But instead, she looked away, unable to bring herself to speak. She didn’t want to be seen as weak, as someone who needed reassurance.

Yuki sighed, catching the conflicted look in her eyes. “Alright,” he said quietly, his gaze softening. “Just… don’t forget that you’ve got people here who believe in you. No matter what the headlines say.”

She gave him a brief, reluctant nod, her voice a whisper. “Thanks, Yuki. But belief isn’t going to get me P8.” She turned and headed for the exit, leaving him behind as the words hung in the air, heavy with the reminder of just how high the stakes were.

Yuki knew things had changed since those days in the Red Bull junior program. Back then, it was just him and Yn, two kids pushing limits, sharing laughs and late nights studying data, feeling like the world wasn’t so big, like maybe they’d take it on together someday. She’d always been determined, sometimes stubbornly so, but she’d had that spark, that glint in her eye when she talked about F1 like it was the only thing that mattered. But now, standing at the pinnacle they’d dreamed of, Yuki could feel the distance growing between them, a wall she was building with every race, every misstep, every setback. 

He tried to remind her of those lighter times, even when the racing got intense. On weekends, he’d linger in the garage with her, cracking jokes, trying to coax a laugh out of her, like they used to do after tough sessions back in Formula 2. But it felt different now. She had this look, as if there was a weight pressing on her that no amount of lightheartedness could lift. 

The night after her crash with Alonso, Yuki tried again, catching up to her outside the paddock as she was leaving. “Hey!” he called, jogging to catch up. “Thought maybe we could grab a bite together. There’s this place nearby that serves ridiculous ramen—reminds me of the spot we’d hit after races.”

She hesitated, her gaze distant, before letting out a sigh. “Yuki, I’m tired. I just want to go back to the hotel and review the data. It was a messy race, and I don’t think I have much appetite.”

Yuki’s shoulders dropped, but he shrugged, forcing a smile. “We could just hang out, then. No data. Just us. I mean… it’s been a while since we’ve really relaxed, you know?”

She gave him a weary smile, one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I appreciate it, really. But I need to focus. I can’t afford to mess up again, not with everything they’re saying.”

He could hear the bitterness in her voice, the resentment barely hidden beneath. It killed him to see her like this—so hardened, so guarded. She was always the toughest of the rookies, fearless, but now it seemed like her own passion had turned against her, trapping her in a never-ending battle against herself. 

He tried again the next day, lingering by her side during their briefing, sending her a grin every chance he got, trying to bring back that easy dynamic they used to have. But it was like she was somewhere else, somewhere far away where his words couldn’t reach her. She’d nod along, respond, but always with that distracted air, her eyes flicking back to the screen, the telemetry, the data, anything but him.

By the time they were heading out after debrief, Yuki couldn’t hold back anymore. “Yn,” he said, his voice softer, catching her arm as she went to turn away. “I know you’re frustrated, I know it feels like everything’s on the line, but… this isn’t like you. You’re carrying everything on your shoulders alone. Let me be there, like we used to.”

For a moment, her expression softened, a glimpse of the Yn he remembered, the one who used to nudge him in the ribs and joke about who could get pole on the practice track. But it faded just as quickly, replaced by that same stony determination.

“I appreciate it, Yuki. But you don’t understand. It’s different for me.” She pulled her arm back gently, looking away. “Every mistake I make gives people more reasons to think I shouldn’t be here. Every crash, every missed point. Sympathy’s a knife in this sport, and I can’t afford to need anyone’s help. I just… I have to handle it.”

He let her words sink in, feeling the sting behind them, realizing that every race, every session was turning her into someone he barely recognized. But he understood, maybe better than she thought. Yuki knew that in F1, there were those who supported you, but there were also those who’d gladly let you fall, especially if you didn’t fit their mold.

“Maybe it’s different for you,” he said quietly, keeping his voice steady. “But you don’t have to do it alone. We’re teammates. We’re supposed to be here for each other. I’m… I’m supposed to be here for you.”

She looked up at him, and for a second, he thought he’d broken through. But she just shook her head, a faint, sad smile on her lips. “Thanks, Yuki. Really. But I need to be strong enough on my own. If I rely on anyone too much, they’ll use it against me. I have to prove myself, no matter what.”

Yuki watched as she turned away again, shoulders squared, that unyielding resolve back in her posture. He knew there was no convincing her, no getting her to see that it was okay to lean on someone every now and then, that it didn’t make her weak. But as she walked away, he felt the weight of her words settle on him, a sadness mingling with frustration. This wasn’t the Yn he knew—this was someone who felt like she had the world against her, like every race was a fight to justify her existence in F1.

Later that night, Yuki found himself with Pierre, staring at his untouched bowl of ramen, his mind churning. He’d always known Yn was strong, maybe even stronger than him in ways he didn’t fully understand. But it was painful to watch her shoulder that strength like a burden, pushing everyone else away, including him. 

He thought about what he could say next time, some way to convince her that she didn’t have to do this alone, that he wasn’t there out of sympathy, but out of respect and genuine friendship. But deep down, he knew that as long as she felt the world’s expectations pressing down on her, she’d keep her guard up. For now, all he could do was be there, waiting, hoping that one day she’d let him in, let him remind her that even in the ruthless world of F1, there was room for someone who’d stand by her side, win or lose.

[another-lost-mc]

a/n: this was a request and it sounded really cute. I used to watch watch F1 races as a kid and thought it'd be such a fun job to have. but then I grew up and realized I hate driving lol

➤ when MC is a professional F1 driver | the demon brothers

2.6k words | sfw | fluff & slice of life shenanigans

cw: developing relationships with the demon brothers; some angst and insecurity if you squint.

related: the dateables + mephisto edition

Lucifer is your main obstacle when you decide you want a shot at racing in this realm. You argue it’s only fair if they expect you to give up your passion and livelihood for an entire year without warning. The world of Devildom racing is dangerous and he doesn’t want (or expect) a human like you to understand that. You try to show him videos of some of your races that you have on your old phone, but he’s still skeptical of your abilities. He takes you to the local track so you can prove what you’re capable of. (His brothers, Diavolo, Barbatos and the students from Purgatory Hall show up to watch as well.) By the end of the first lap, most of them are stunned with disbelief or excited for the possibilities of living with such a talented driver. Lucifer grudgingly concedes that he underestimated you. He arranges a personal vehicle for you to use during your stay in the exchange program. He also speaks to Diavolo about your interest in continuing your racing career. The young prince agrees once he’s confident you understand the risks. 

Lucifer is your advocate and advisor at first, but over time he gradually becomes your friend. He admires your determination to make a name for yourself. He attends each race in person and pretends he’s there on official business, but it’s his own way of supporting your efforts. He’s genuinely proud of you for making such a lasting impact in the Devildom in a short amount of time. He treats you to dinner after each race and it becomes a celebratory ritual you both look forward to. He starts to crave your company when the racing season comes to an end, and he scrambles for new reasons to spend time with you. He starts asking you out for dinner—just the two of you—for no apparent reason at all. He can't explain the profound happiness that blooms in his chest when you eagerly accept.

Mammon thinks this is a fantastic opportunity. At first he assumed you were just some cute human that liked cars. But now it turns out that you actually know how to race, too? The novelty of a human racing against in the Devildom’s most competitive league is sure to draw in a bigger crowd than usual. He never bothered with betting on the races before, but your introduction to the racing league shows him the untapped potential; he can't wait to make a fortune off this! Unfortunately for him, you hear through the grapevine that he bets against you before your first race. You're annoyed and drive more aggressively than usual because of it. You already feel like you have to prove yourself, and you’re already under enough pressure without him counting on you to fail. The race finishes and you rank in the top three—it takes the Devildom sporting world by surprise. Mammon lost a fair bit of money betting against you, but he’s not angry. He admits he underestimated you and it feels like you’ve earned his respect. (He learns from his mistakes and doesn’t bet against you again.)

He’s a lot friendlier after that. He's a good engineer and likes working with his hands. When your loaner car acts up, he offers to help you with it even though you both know you can handle it yourself. He keeps you company and watches you work on it in the garage Lucifer had built. Mammon pretends he's "supervising" your work so he still has a reason to hang around. Sometimes you let him do the work for you because he looks so happy when he does. He makes a show of rolling up his sleeves and flexing his muscles before he pops the hood and leans forward to take a look at things. It's ridiculous how attractive he is when he's sweaty and covered with dirt and engine grease. 

He doesn't let anyone else drive his precious car Demonio 666 Lexura except for you. When you finally agree to his invitation to take you out on a date, he hands you the keys so you can drive it for the first time. It’s nicer and a lot faster than the car Lucifer arranged for you to use. You can tell that Mammon puts a lot of pride and care into the upkeep of his vehicle, and you’re flattered he would trust you with it when no one else has that privilege. Mammon gets a little flustered in the passenger seat because watching you drive in your date night outfit turns him on. He’s tempted to slip his hand into your lap and test how good your concentration is.

Levi doesn’t have any interest in driving outside of video games. He’s shocked at how talented you are as a racer because you’re terrible at Devil Kart. He still invites you to play games with him and it surprises him that you would waste your time with him. He's not sure how to act around you sometimes. It should be easier to interact with you the more he gets to know you. Instead, he grows even more shy and anxious and flustered all at once and he doesn't know why.

The other students at RAD start to admire you and you develop a little bit of a fan following. He gets a little jealous that you seem to bask in all the attention, but you admit to him later that a lot of your public persona is just an act. You’re scared to be yourself in the public eye, and you hate the feeling of being judged for who you are. You show him rare glimpses of the real you that no one else sees, and he realizes he likes you. He wants to be your friend, but he wants to support you too. You don't have to pretend to be someone else when you're with him. He's not a fan of sports, but in his eyes, you slowly become as important as one of his beloved idols.

He hears rumors around RAD that some of the students want to start a fan club for you. It irritates him that he didn’t think of that first, but he sets up a fan site that gets a lot of traction. His username is different from the ones he uses on other sites so it’s harder to trace it back to him. He basically runs the largest Devildom site dedicated to you and your career and its his worst-kept secret. Another fan of yours designs cute logos based off your Devildom racing nickname, and it opens the floodgates to a huge line of fan-made merchandise. Levi orders one of everything, and he knows all of his brothers have bought some that merch too. He squirms in his seat when you mention how sweet the fan club president is. You drop subtle hints that you know it’s him, but he’s too nervous to admit it. One day you ask him out to see a new movie he’s interested in, and all he can do is nod and blush furiously when you call it a date. (He doesn't even realize he's wearing one of your fan club t-shirts until after you leave his room with a bounce in your step.)

Satan didn't have much of an interest in cars or racing before you arrived. Once you break into the Devildom racing scene, he takes it upon himself to learn more about it. (Watching awkwardly from the sidelines while Lucifer his brothers fawn over you has nothing to do with his sudden interest.) He picks up the basics of car maintenance easily enough, but his main focus is the politics behind the racing industry and how the teams function. He wants you to succeed and that means finding a manager that's dedicated and organized and has a keen eye for detail. He observes how the other teams operate and quickly identifies the weak spots in their leadership. He's certain that he can do so much better than them and he’s relieved when you agree to give him a chance. 

You spend a lot of evenings working together. You give him detailed breakdowns about your career in the human world and how things operated. He makes careful notes of the things you liked and didn't like, the people on your team that helped you and the ones you butted heads with. He knows some of his brothers are suitable for roles on your team, and he's extremely critical when he begins filling the other vacant positions. He goes to the track when you practice and you appreciate his company. He takes on most of the behind-the-scenes responsibility for you so you can focus on other things, like not crashing and staying alive. He has zero tolerance for demons that badmouth you when he's in earshot, and it takes all his self-control not to tear them to pieces. Don't they realize how hard you work? Sometimes he gets frustrated when he has to control his temper, but you pat his arm and hug him or kiss his cheek for his efforts. You remind him that you appreciate him sticking up for you like no one else does; the anger inside him deflates and is replaced with something even more potent.

Asmo can’t remember the last time he felt so inspired. Here you are, the most precious little human he’s ever laid eyes on, and you’re a professional racer? He's already planning a new fashion line that’ll capitalize on the hype of your budding career—he knows the trends of the Devildom and anticipates your success before anyone else does. Your first race generates so much excitement that he sets up a corporate Devilgram account for you too. The first wave of fans start following you within minutes of your surprising race debut. Asmo goes to the track and takes pictures of you talking to Satan and the others on your team about devil-knows-what. He manages to snap a particularly fetching photo of you leaning against your car. He knows you were just pointing out something in the car’s flimsy paint job, but it makes you look intriguing and formidable and a bit sexy, too. (You roll your eyes when you see the photo on Devilgram later, but his suggestive caption under the photo about the Devildom’s hottest new ride leaves you feeling flustered the rest of the day.)

Things move very quickly once the rest of the Devildom media catches up to Asmo’s insight into your popularity. All the magazines want to interview you, and even Mephistopheles requests an interview on behalf of the RAD newspaper club. The Devilgram account Asmo runs for you skyrockets in popularity with each photo he posts. Satan offers Asmo a role on your team as your official agent and social marketing strategist. He asks Satan for some other responsibilities too: he arranges your sponsorships and endorsements, and he designs your race attire and car wrap. He’s not sure anyone else in the Devildom can capture your talent or charming good looks the way he can.

You and Asmo have some very long, heated discussions about managing your celebrity status and your personal boundaries. You maintain veto power over any interviews or photo-ops you’re uncomfortable with. You also get final approval on any licensed fashion or merchandise. (The little fan club of yours has superior merch anyway and everyone knows it.) Asmo enjoys the challenge of designing your race suit too, and he’s so proud when he shows it to you. It incorporates comfort, style and function in a way that's flattering without being provocative. There are little symbols embroidered along the sleeve cuffs and he explains what they are when your brow furrows in confusion. “Oh! The thread is imbued with protective magic. The sigils will help protect you in case you get into an accident.” He mistakes the shocked look on your face for disappointment and backtracks quickly. “I promise, it’s not cheating! Demons are more durable so most of them don’t bother using these, but I don’t know what I’d do if you got hurt—“ He stumbles a little when you wrap your arms around him and mumble thank-yous into his chest. He kisses the top of your head and hugs you back just as tightly while he murmurs about how special you are.

Both of the twins end up working in the pit as part of your crew.

Beel is an obvious candidate for that physically demanding job because of his speed and strength. He didn’t know much about racing before you came to the Devildom. Your passion and his brothers’ involvement is contagious and he can’t resist getting involved too. He learns about the mechanics of caring for cars and how important the pit stop crew is to your success. He bonds with his family because they're all supporting you in their own ways. Working with his hands helps distract him from his hunger and becomes an unexpected perk of the job. You’re considerate and still make sure he has access to snacks throughout the race if he wants them, though. He can’t be there for all of your races because of scheduling conflicts with his other club obligations, but that’s when he realizes how much he likes spending time with you. He’s flattered that you find time in your busy schedule to go to his games to cheer him on too. You agree to go with him for spontaneous lunch dates when you both have time off. He takes you to new restaurants and watching your reactions to the different types of food the Devildom offers. He worries that you don't eat enough when you're so busy, and he's much happier knowing that you're well-fed.

Belphie works in the pit but his responsibilities are a bit more abstract. He volunteers for that role because his twin is there. All he needs to do is help keep Beel’s hunger-related distractions to a minimum and stay out of the way while the other demons do their jobs. He has a nice little corner where he can watch the race if he wants, but he spends most of the time sleeping. He wakes up when he senses your car is pulling up. Each time you drive away, you wave in his direction like you know he wakes up just to see you for a few brief moments.

He doesn’t like it when your fans recognize you on the street. They ask you for autographs or selfies and it’s annoying. He’s proud of you, but he hates having to compete for your attention. He makes snarky comments about your fan club but he still buys your merch—the t-shirts are soft and nice for sleeping in. He drags you to the bed in the attic for naps because he senses how exhausted you are. He makes sure that you’re not sacrificing relaxation or sleep for the sake of your career. Sometimes you dream, but it's not the nightmares that bother you. You dream about returning to the human world and living a normal life without obligations to your fans and your manager and your sponsorships. You crave a life that's completely your own again. Those dreams disturb you the most because sometimes you wish you could go back to being that person before you started on this path. Belphie listens quietly when you share your feelings in a moment of sleepy vulnerability. He doesn't judge you or laugh at you. He understands why you’d want to give up a lucrative career when it leaves you feeling weary from self-doubt and regret. Maybe one day, sooner rather than later, he can help convince you that it's okay to retire and pursue a different dream instead.

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König is Naturally Nerd!König

A lot of people suggest nerd!König (which is essentially regular König in my books) would be into DnD, or Star Wars, or Lego, but I disagree.

Normal and Nerd!König are obsessed with miniature armies. He has little models of airplanes and tanks that he puts on display in his room. He only has two World War models (and even then it's WW1), and those are the planes that Baron von Richthofen flew. Otherwise, he collects medieval minis and paints them.

He creates whole dioramas of them, and they're surprisingly good. He has the money to sink into his hobby, and it fills his time when he's not at work. He fidgets a lot, but he's gotten good at doing fine detail work. They're not award winning, but they're really quite good.

In addition, he's a major reader. If you want to know more about what König reads, check out this post here. If you don't want to read it, the gist of it is that König loves reading and reads all the time. He's probably the type to sniff and say the book was better than the movie. He's right, but he doesn't need to be so snobby about it.

Through the military, he has an extensive knife and gun collection. He can use all of them, sure, but he really doesn't need that many. He used to have only one room dedicated to them, but he's since had to move twice and torn down a wall most recently to make a big enough room for everything. He kinda sucks that way. He really takes up a lot of space.

However, Nerd!König didn't end up joining the military. He instead went into nuclear engineering and earned an excellent living to fund his expensive hobbies. He also ended up having more time to devote to his crafts, which led to...

More under the cut.

Nerd!König is a Snob

König is a pathfinder 2e type of guy. He's that pedantic. He'll have the rule books memorized, and he has links to download the pdfs ready at the flick of a wrist. He's ready to convert you. Your DnD supplies will be absorbed into his Pathfinder 2E.

A big reason he's into Pathfinder 2E is because he was introduced at a young age and so collected the supplies, but when he heard about the Wizards of the Coast scandals he decided he'd use that as his reasoning. He gets up on a soapbox about it whenever he can. He really, really hates Wizards of the Coast. It's a firey rage that burns within.

He also likes Warhammer. He's a disgusting Warhammer lover. He plays a ridiculous Adeptus Mechanicus army that he's painted himself. It's surprisingly good painting, too. Having painted Adeptus Mech before, I'm telling you it's really hard. He makes it looks easy with craft paint and crazy glue. He's disgustingly good at it. I hate him for it. How dare he be so good. He is genuinely a fantastic painter. That said, we saw what happened with the last Austrian painter, so maybe it's a good thing he stuck to painting minis.

Nerd!König also loves to collect ancient weaponry. To make it worse, he actually practises with it and has become pretty decent with it. He's feared among the LARPing community because he's known to be a fearsome competitor. He'd be more well liked if he didn't accidentally break people's wooden shields so often. As it is, he's not fully blacklisted, but he's skating on thin ice. He'd be banned for sure if it weren't for the fact that the forest on his property is amazing for LARPing.

Finally, he's into Renaissance fairs. He goes and does public sword fighting, once again, LARPing. He'll also show off his weaponry collections, and will gladly go on hour long spiels to anyone unfortunate to ask about the history of an item on his table. He is on good terms with the blacksmiths, and he's always having to pay the local seamstress to fix his clothing back in the traditional style. He will also go up to the ferret keeper and play with their ferrets, and then beg you to get some. He just wants a cute little ferret. Can't he have a couple? No, not one! They need playmates. You need at least three.

Either way, Nerd!König is a big silly guy. He's a bit friendlier and gentler than regular König honestly. He also is super passionate about his hobbies. He's so excited to show you his hobbies, and he really wants you to enjoy them too.

Just so you know, all these hobbies are expensive. Very expensive. It's a good thing he's making so much money, because otherwise you'd go bankrupt overnight, because, "Games Workshop released a new edition of the walkers! I need them for my army!"

[piratefishmama]

Fake It 'Till You Make It | Part 7

“Are you sure we’re ready for this?” Eddie didn’t feel ready for it. Although they’d definitely spent the better half of the morning and a little of the afternoon getting used to kissing, something Eddie would remember for the rest of his life and maybe thank Dustin for at a later date, and maybe curse him a little for because Steve wouldn’t take it any further than kissing.

Dude had some impressive self-control. No handsy behaviour, no leading, didn’t even follow when Eddie tried subtly nudging it. They had a goal in mind, and he wasn’t getting side tracked for anything.

Eddie might have felt self-conscious about that, had he not kept feeling Steve’s grin against his lips whenever he tried, or those little warning nips which both told him to stay on track and fed the mischievous little gremlin that was his brain. He was growing his confidence!

Steve was helping him be confident!

“We’ve gotta be, sooner we get this over with, the better.” They were sat in his BMW in the Harrington driveway, engine off, psyching themselves up. Steve climbed out of the car,

Eddie following shortly after with a grumbled “Better for who exactly?”

Steve wished he had an answer for that. But the longer he sat with the idea that they had to reveal this ‘relationship’ to his parents, the more daunting it became. It’d be fine. He knew it’d be fine, the worst case scenario was that they wouldn’t like Eddie, okay no worst case scenario was that their behaviours had been performative in an attempt to call his bluff, but that was looking less and less likely.

They could just… not like him. Not think him good enough. Judge his clothes, his hair, his social class, they could be mean, out of touch rich people so easily. But at least if they got this over with quickly, he’d know if it’d work.

“…The plan I guess. If they don’t like you then—”

“Jobs off?” At least Eddie could say he’d gotten to make out with Steve Harrington, to approximately zero people because who could he brag about that with? It was a personal victory for himself.

“Mmhm... that’s ok right?” Slowly they made for the door.

“Sure, no harm no foul, I got to make-out with Steve Harrington and I’d get to go back to bed, I’m calling that a win.” He didn’t care if it went to Steve’s ego, and from the smile lighting up his face it did a little, he got to make out with Steve Harrington. “Let’s get this over with, Stevie.” He could handle a little rich person judgement if they didn’t like him.

His whole shtick was aiming for parents to not like him, he wasn’t made of glass. He could handle it. And as such, he gave Steve’s perfect ass a light smack because honestly when else was he going to get the chance to do that, and went off in front headed for the big, over the top red double door entry.

Steve, only momentarily stunned by the smack, shook himself out of it and jogged to catch up, hissing a harried “wait up, Eddie!” That only served to earn an over the shoulder grin from his ‘boyfriend’ before he was turning and walking backwards, amusement dimpling his cheeks and lighting up his face.

He really was attractive, wasn’t he? Not a thought Steve figured he’d be having at random but... it wasn’t unwelcome. Eddie was... pretty. Pretty and fun.

Maybe the kids were right, maybe Eddie was worth the effort to get to know.

So it wasn’t as much of a surprise as maybe it should have been that... he actually really hoped they would like him.

Wasn’t that an interesting thought?

“Okay just... be—”

“-haaaave? Be pleasant? Beeee polite?” Be anything but himsel—

“Yourself Eddie. Be yourself.” Oh. His surprised must have showed because instead of opening the front door, Steve paused and decided in a moment of sheer ‘fuck it’ cupped Eddie’s cheeks and just held his face. “Be yourself... you’re not unlikeable, you’re charming, and funny, and goofy, and they’re going to like you” God he hoped so. His thumb caressed the soft, warm cushion of Eddie’s cheeks taking in those big brown doe eyes so wide, full of surprise “so just be yourself, alright?”

“... Kiss for good luck?” Maybe it was just a bid to lessen the tension, the feelings bubbling within from being touched so gently, but it worked about as efficiently as a chocolate fireguard, because Steve kissed him.

It was soft, and chaste, quick so the neighbours wouldn’t see, but it chased any nerves Eddie might have had right out the metaphorical window. Didn’t help the feelings from erupting like goddamn Vesuvius but, the nerves vanished.

“It’s gonna be okay” it’d be okay. “Walk behind me alright? I’ll introduce you and we’ll riff from there” they were doing this. He was about to out himself to two complete wild card strangers in shitsville Indiana.

It’d be okay, it’d be okay. It’d be okay.

“Okay... promise me they’re not gonna turn on me, like... they can hate me but...” hurting him was... a real risk.

“Eddie... I’m with you. Okay? They turn on you... I’ve got you. I’ll keep you safe.”

“Even though they’re your parents?”

Steve tucked a stray curl behind Eddie’s ear and offered him a warm, comforting smile “I’ll side with you long before I side with them, I swear. They wanna get to you, they’d have to go through me.” He was both younger and stronger than his parents. They tried anything and he wouldn’t hesitate to get between them. “And trust me, they wouldn’t be able to.”

Steve may not have been known for winning fights but... he was still pretty damn big, could definitely overpower a couple of older rich people. “...Okay.” He’d be safe. Steve would protect him.

He could be brave.

Steve opened the door and stepped inside, Eddie following behind him trying not to think too hard about how the last time he’d been there it’d been at night and it’d been heaving with teenagers being stupid.

There’d been alcohol, he’d been selling drugs, it looked different during the day.

“Steven?! Is that you?!” Came a feminine voice from somewhere within. Steve seemed to know where though, because his hand found Eddie’s, lacing their fingers together to gently tug him in that direction until they reached the dining room door where Steve let him go to make himself known

“Yeah it’s me, is Dad home?” Eddie remained out of sight as instructed, feeling the nerves bubble in his gut again, kind of missed Steve’s hand around his, it felt nice.

“He’s in the living room with me, is something wrong?” She sounded pleasant, inquisitive, Eddie had never met Lynda Harrington, never seen her before in his life, not even photos as the house didn’t seem to have them.

The Harrington’s didn’t like clutter.

They could do this. They had their bare bones story, they were comfortable kissing, and apparently holding hands was easy too, definitely didn’t make his chest do a wibbly little thing. Didn’t make his chest do that at all. Steve had him wait just to the side of the doorway as he entered, definitely the bravest man Eddie had ever met in his entire goddamn life.

Didn’t know a single person capable of a more ballsy move than what Steve Harrington was about to do.

Even if the roles were reversed and he was telling Wayne about Steve it still wouldn’t be as ballsy! Steve was a catch, it’d be like the Jester had bagged the King. The other way round… Steve was clearly way out of his league.

“Nothing wrong, no. I uh… I wanted to talk to you about something.” Eddie leaned back against the wall, let the flat surface of it ground him as he listened. It’d be okay. He’d be okay. “You know how I’ve been… less than… enthused, about all the… ehem, potential people you’ve been trying to introduce me to?”

“How can we forget? Speaking of which, Heather, you know Heather, the Holloway’s daughter?” Eddie stuffed the bend of his thumb into his mouth to stop himself from making a noise, yeah, good luck with Heather, she was busy with Megan.

“Heh, yeah, yeah I know Heather, we got our life guard certification together, but she’s irrelevant, not—not irrelevant I don’t mean it like that” god what were their facial expressions like if Steve was stumbling so much “she’s… not—okay, heh, start over. The reason that I’ve been against all this is… well you know how I said I’m… I’m bisexual?” Eddie assumed at least one of them nodded during the brief pause “w-well, I’m… already seeing someone. And I have been for a few weeks now…”

“What?! Steven! Why didn’t you tell me, heavens now I have to cancel with—”

“With whom, mom?” Maybe Steve’s fears weren’t as unfounded as some might have thought them to be.

“…Nobody. Go on.”

“Well… I didn’t tell you, because… he… was nervous about being known, which y’know, fair, he doesn’t know you, it could be dangerous for him, frankly I didn’t even know you’d be totally okay with it, but—but with the week away coming up I was hoping that maybe… maybe you’d let me bring him with us?” There it was, the in, it was coming, he’d have to be seen soon. Breeeath, it’d be okay. He’d be okay.

“Oh!” Oh? What did oh mean? Was oh bad? Would oh be—

“Could we meet him first?” Masculine, Steve’s father. Holy shit. His dad. His dad. John Harrington. Fuck.

“Yeah! I uhm… he’s here actually. Uh… one second.” Steve dipped back out into the walk through where Eddie looked at him through wide, slightly panicked doe eyes. “Hey… it’s okay…” could have paid him millions, it wouldn’t erase the fright that seemed to settle into his bones when the time to shine arrived. He’d never had stage fright before. Maybe he should have given Greg, the kid playing Hamlet more of a break during that school production of Hamlet he’d flipped out just before. “Eddie… c’mere” he drew Eddie in, coaxed him away from that wall and drew him into his embrace. “It’s okay, I’m right here, it’s safe, nothing and no one is going to hurt you while I’m here, okay?”

“Steven, is he—” Steve turned his head to look back at his father in the doorway, Eddie just about visible in his arms, wide eyed and frankly freaking out just a little “Oh Steven…”

Part 9