#can someone just making coming up with ideas a job or something became i swear

[triglycercule]

alright horror and dust content is prepped for the upcoming flight :3 planning on getting this done during the flight because i have time to KILL (ooohhh pun. the mtt would be so proud of me). anyways i made sure to get every scene ive yet to cover of horror's so i dont need internet THANK GOD. ignore the other photos in my camera roll i like to save funny images. what's that? you spot a piece of artwork i've yet to post??? oh well,,,, you didn't need to ask i'll give to you :3

i really don't feel like tagging this and this one was just an excuse for me to fuck around with markers and lighting and be loose so i guess this is for the people who have enough eye energy to read the above paragraph and open this little hidden sector. my favorite genre of mtt art (along with fluffy fun upbeat chill hanging out stuff) is stuff where theyre just attacking some sort of indescribable figure and look intimidating and stuff with blood and all their magic. i really like that type of art i think there's a severe lack of it on THIS app. except the only issue with that is you have to figure out where theyre gonna be positioned and it gets upsetting at some point when you have to just make one of them stand on some invisible platform or something so theyll be visible like i did for killer here. but sacrifices have to be made. killer's lack of correct positioning is made up for by the fact that his blaster is the one making the lighting look cool. ALSO horror looks soooo good here. not a day goes by where horror sans isn't a slay. first time drawing his canon cleaver too. gotta say it actually makes a lot more sense compared to the axe but also axe cooler

i'm finally doing it. i'm finally making that stupid ass horror character analysis i promised myself to make like a month ago. and DAMN this shit is actually so fun ngl horrortale is so beautifully tragically written. i've been listening to SAS's horror theme the entire time i've been doing this because it's actually a pretty good theme for depicting horror ans i need to get into a HIM mood. this sets the tone. my hands are so sweaty but i also have my fan blasting at me so i don't know why the hell i'm so sweaty wtf. anyways idk when i'll finish this but it'll be soon TRUST (i need this character analysis more than anyone 💀💀 this doc is just a first draft since horror is like wayyy more complex than i originally thought wtf)

[intoanotherworld23]

Dirty Little Secret

Pairing: Reader x Joel Miller

Warnings: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD NSFW 18+, mention of sex toys, description of sex, female masturbation, consensual sex, unprotected sex, swear words, cheating

Word count: 2386 words

Summary: Joel Miller owns his own company and is your boss and you’re his personal assistant. He’s the most incredibly handsome man you’ve ever met but unfortunately he’s married. Then one night he unexpectedly comes knocking on your door

Check out my other works on my Hall Of Hunks

"He does what for a living?" Your friend exclaimed on the other side of the phone making you cringe at her voice.

"He designs sex toys." Repeating yourself but in a much lower tone as you laid down in bed. "He owns his own company."

"Fuckin a Y/N." She sighed loudly making you laugh at her reaction. "How in the hell did you get this job?"

"I saw an ad somewhere that he was looking for a personal assistant so I applied and got the job." Not really wanting to tell her the full story of what happened during the interview.

"Does he get to ya know.. test the toys on you?" You could hear the teasing tone in her voice making you shake your head.

"Absolutely not." Scoffing loudly although it would be kind of hot if he did. "I keep track of his schedules and just run his errands."

"The man has to be kinky as fuck." Surprisingly she wasn't asking a question it was more of a statement to herself.

"I would have no idea about that." Even though it wouldn't surprise you at all if he was.

The man probably had a whole room filled with all kinds of toys. He just screamed dominance and power. The type of guy to call you a good girl as you he bent you over his lap, and spanked you until your ass was on fire.

"Is he at least hot?" She went from shocked to interested very quickly.

"He is absolutely gorgeous." Humming to yourself picturing him in your head, and how good he looked in his dark gray suit. "I've never seen a man more handsome than him."

"Is he married?" A frown appeared on your face hating the fact he was married.

"Unfortunately yes he is married." Both of you groaning at the fact, and a sense of envy washed over you.

"She probably forced herself on him, and made him marry her." She replied making you burst out laughing. "Or she has huge tits."

"Well let's just say I know her boobs aren't small." Remembering the picture you saw on his desk of the two of them. "Or real."

"Well at least you get to stare at him all day." Her words reassuring but it didn't help your feelings at all.

"I guess yeah." Shrugging your shoulders as you bent your knees moving them side to side.

"Does this man come with a handsome name?" She asked you as you sat up and tried not to moan while saying it.

"His name is Joel Miller." Hearing her groaning on the other line as she mumbled something to herself.

"God I can imagine screaming that name out loud." She was more promiscuous than you ever were, and she had no filter.

"Jesus you haven't even met the guy and your more horny for him than I am." Joking as she laughed and you could picture her flipping you off.

"Holy mother of god I just googled him, and I about creamed my pants." Of course she was instantly looking him up wanting to know exactly what he looked like.

"Hope you have an extra pair of panties to spare." Raising your eyebrows as she laughed loudly.

"Well I know what I would be doing that you wouldn't." You knew exactly where she was going with this.

"And what's that?" Humoring her with a question even though you already knew the answer.

"That you would never grow some lady balls and fuck him." Her vulgar words had you rolling your eyes as you giggled. "I would be all over that in a heartbeat."

"I know you would." Agreeing with her instantly knowing her history. "Then you would get fired."

"At least I would get to fuck someone incredibly handsome."

A part of you became jealous hearing those words come out of her mouth wanting this man all to yourself. Constantly wishing and fantasizing that he wasn't married to his wife, but was married to you instead.

"I bet his cock is incredible and huge." If you had water in your mouth it would be all over you. "His wife probably needs crutches after him."

This time you weren't laughing or shaking your head at her. Your mind went to what he looked like below the belt. Picturing him standing there naked stroking himself to the sight of you.

Imagining what it would feel like if you wrapped your hands around it. Wondering what it would feel like when it would slip inside you, and just how much he could stretch you out. Imagining him taking you in every position, and never once letting up.

Feeling your panties getting a little wet at the thought. Your insides were clenching, and you felt your body become heated with desire. Your eyes glazing over as you squeezed your thighs together trying to relieve the pressure.

"Alright I'm gonna go masturbate." Her voice interrupted your perverted thoughts making you come back to reality. "Talk to you later byeeee."

Hanging up the phone before you could even respond. Tossing your phone to the side as you laid there with a hand on your lower stomach. Your mind on Joel unable to get him out of your head.

A part of you felt bad for not really telling her what was going on, and what really happened. For now it was something you wanted to keep to yourself, and hope and pray nobody else would find out about it.

Spreading your legs as you bit your lower lip your hand started to move down. Under your pants feeling a wet spot on your panties. Your fingers moving the thin material to the side as you rubbed your pussy in slow circles.

Increasing the speed of your fingers as you rubbed yourself in figure eights. Brushing your hips against your now throbbing clit making your tremble. Wanting nothing more than to feel Joel's skin touching yours in such a sensual and passionate way.

Closing your eyes as your juices coated your fingers before you stuck two of them inside of you. Gasping as you thrust them in and out imagining it was Joel who was the one fingering you.

Your other hand reached up to grab your breast massaging the mass in rhythm with your thrusting. Pinching your nipple till it was hard causing you to moan out loud. Your cheeks heating up at the possibility someone heard you.

Moving your hips around as you were grinding against your fingers hitting a deeper angle. Curling them upwards as you lifted your back off the bed, and tossed your head into the pillows.

The sounds of your moans, and the squishing sound from your wet pussy echoing around the room. The room was becoming so thick and heavy with your own lust you were so consumed in it.

Picturing Joel bending you over his desk, and drilling his cock so deep inside of you that you could feel him in your stomach. Kissing your neck and sucking on the flesh to be sure, and leave his mark.

Just as you felt your stomach tightening, and your release just right there a knock came from the door. Grunting as you pulled your fingers out wiping your juices on the cover.

Adjusting yourself before you got out of bed to go see who was interrupting you. Opening the door a huge grin appearing on your face at who was standing on the other side. His eyes looking your body up and down with a dark gleam.

"Was I interrupting something?"

His tone mocking knowing exactly what you were doing noticing your panting, and the sweat along your forehead. Feeling your heartbeat echoing in your ears knowing you got caught, and he wasn't stupid.

"Nope." Answering a little too quickly raising his suspicions.

Joel shut the door behind him his eyes never once leaving you. He was hungry for you and had been thinking about you all day. He recognized your scent and his senses went into overdrive. His inner animal was banging against the caged doors screaming to be released.

"I can smell that sweet cunt from here." Sniffing the air an audible gasp leaving your mouth at his choice of words.

"I couldn't wait any longer."

Whining as he backed you up into a wall growling when he pressed his body into yours. Feeling the warmth of his body heat radiating onto yours making the blood rise to your cheeks. It was like all the air was sucked out from your lungs as your true fantasy was about to come true.

Never did you expect something like this to happen. Thinking that he never took an interest in you, and you'd never get to live out one of your dreams.

"Mmm now I'm gonna have to decide what to do to you." Towering over your figure staring down at you like a predator ready to attack its prey.

——————————————

"Joel." Choking out a moan as your back arched off the bed.

The smirk on his face grew even larger hearing you moaning his name. If anything it encouraged him to keep pounding into you harder.

"Can feel you squeezin my cock sweetheart." He chuckled as he watched your face contort in pleasure. "Such a tight little pussy for me."

Feeling your orgasm building up again as you turned your head to the side, and gripped the sheets beneath you. Biting onto the pillow trying to muffle your screaming.

"Say my name again baby." He whispered into your ear as he sharply thrusted inside of you making you squeal.

"Oh god Joel." Your toes curling against the bed as he tightened his grip on your hips. "Joel."

"Fuck that's it sweetheart let everyone know whose fucking you so good." His thrusting was slowing down, but just as powerful.

"Such a good girl."

Rotating his hips at a certain angle had your legs trembling. Leaning forward so he could attach his lips to yours. His mouth swallowing all your moans his movements never once missing beat.

"Your pussy so sweet it won't let me go." His stated matter of factly as his fingers reached down to rub your clit.

"God the sounds you make for me sweetheart." His eyes trained down to where his cock was disappearing. Your juices coating his cock making him groan at the sight.

Closing your eyes for a brief moment as the pleasure was taking over your body. Feeling a hand grip your chin making you open your eyes to see those chocolatey brown eyes staring you down.

"Look at me when you cum around my cock." He growled as the veins in his neck popped out.

Leaning on his forearms so his hands were on either side of your face. It was such an intimate moment, but you found yourself entranced with his eyes. Like he was holding onto you and didn't want to let you go.

"Oh fuck right there." You screamed as he hit your sweet spot. The pleasure boiling to the top you felt you might explode.

"Harder Joel."

Opening your legs even further so he could thrust deeper. The muscles straining to the point it was painful, but feeling his condition inside you motivated you to keep them open.

"Such a cock hungry slut for me." Groaning against the skin of your neck before his lips moved downward towards your breasts.

Sucking on the nipples turning them raw and hard. One of your hands reaching out to grip his hair as your senses were overwhelmed. Feeling him smile against your flesh as to how he was making you feel.

"Can feel how fucking close you are sweetheart." His words making your legs shake. "Pussy is just begging for me."

The moans were just spilling from your lips you didn't care who heard you. Your body twitching and moving all around unable to control yourself anymore. The warmth was spreading through out your whole body.

"Cum for me baby." His voice straining as he was trying to control himself as well. "Cum around my cock."

"Be a good girl and squeeze that pussy for me."

He encouraged with his filthy words. Feeling that burning in the pit of your stomach as you were on the edge. Joel was loving the reactions you were having towards him, and if he could take a video of everything he would.

His movements stopped as his cock remained still inside of you as your pussy clenched hard around him. Both of your groaning as you looked each other in the eye.

Burying his head in the crook of your neck while he catches his breath. Rolling over so he's on his back as well. The room is silent and neither of you speak for the next few minutes. It was awkward or uncomfortable which you were thankful for.

When neither of you said anything you decided to get up and start getting dressed. Joel continued to lay there with a confused look on his face.

"What are you doing?"

"Getting dressed I figured you'd want to leave as soon as possible." Your tone harsh and cold mentally preparing yourself for rejection.

Plus you figured after this Joel would fire you since he wouldn't want to deal with the drama that would soon take place. A man like him didn't want some woman he slept with once to become obsessed with him and disrupt his life.

"Come here." He patted the bed indicating you to lay back down.

Crawling back into bed he pulled your body close to his, and you snuggled against him relishing in the warmth of his body. He could sense something was wrong, but you just didn't want him to see you get emotional so quickly.

"What's wrong?" He asked you with genuine concern in his voice.

"Am I fired?"

"Why would I fire you?"

"Cause we just had sex, and I thought you weren't allowed to sleep with your assistant?"

"I'm the boss sweetheart I can do whatever I want." Grabbing your face and planting his lips on yours for a sensual kiss.

Maybe you were completely wrong about him, and things you were worried about were just all in your head.

"So don't worry about getting fired." He reassured you. "Also I'm not done with you yet."

[andreas-river]

Hi! I have an Oc who is Malaysian so her accent is very heavy. She doesn't have much knowledge about other languages, just English. Then I had an idea.

Could you do something about the reader being the nursing assistant at the base, who is a little shy and decided to learn German on her own just to have some conversation with König, since she always had a crush on him. She is always seen very distracted reading something but no one knows what she reads so much, since she takes care to cover all the German books she has so that no one suspects her sudden interest in the language.

Thank you in advance! 🥰

König X Nurse!Fem!Reader

A/N: Hi, here's your request. I'm sorry it took so long, hope you'll like it anyway!

Disclaimer: I do not own any MW characters. English is not my first language.

Warnings: mention of wound, fluff.

Since you became a nurse at the base, you came in contact with many soldiers, always helping them, following all the doctors’ orders, giving them support, and trying to be more than a nurse, at least something like a friend.

Communication is the key─and to do your job, you need to communicate in any way.

König was the hardest one: he was always silent, answering your questions with simple syllables, such as “yes” or “sure”, keeping his eyes low, or just roaming around the room without watching.

So, you started to learn his language.

Whenever you had the chance -lunch breaks, between patients, or in the evenings- all your attention would fall back on the stack of recovered German books, starting with the basics, but not with little effort. No one suspected anything- and you cared about keeping this a secret.

Something attracted you to him, but still weren’t able to explain, his mere presence made you feel so little, so protected, always feeling his eyes under the hood watching you, but when you tried to catch him, he was faster than you and his eyes were already on something else.

A knock from the door made you flinch, bringing you back to reality, quickly leaving the book under your jacket -hiding it- and sprinting to the door, facing exactly the one you were thinking about all the time.

“Hi, uh... the bandage came off, so...” his thick accent made you shiver, your eyes going right where he was pointing to: a straight line of stitches in his left arm was exposed, still holding the old bandages with the other.

“Oh- sure, come in.” he followed you, making him sit on a chair to be able to medicate his wound more easily. Even with that, his height is still tangible.

“You didn’t find the doctor?” you asked him with a smile, trying to make him comfortable. His breaths weren’t natural, like he was controlling them to make them appear normal, but you knew they weren’t.

“Well, no one is here anymore.” He scratches the back of his head, feeling a sort of smile on those words. “I didn’t even expect to find someone.”

“Wait... hold on-” you frown, don’t understanding the meaning of those words. No one is here?

You turned around, reading the clock on the wall. 01:20 AM.

“It’s pretty late, huh?” A nervous laugh escaped your lips, your face turning hot from the embarrassment.

With his head tilted to the side, he laughed too, your chest filled with a joy you didn’t recognize: you never heard him laugh, or even talk too much, and yet, König was right in front of you, laughing together like old friends, both your hands still holding his arm half-covered from the bandages.

“You were doing something important?”

You can swear he’s literally smirking under his hood. Somehow this situation made him feel comfortable more than any other time, coming out of his shell and revealing his true self to you.

“Actually... yeah, it was really important. I like reading, often I lose track of time.” You answered, ending the medication, and letting his arm go.

He gets up, pointing at something right behind you- right where you put the book. Turning around, the jacket was on the ground, the book completely exposed, feeling your face become even redder than before.

“It’s weird, I know-“ you turned back around, König already standing up behind you. The distance between your bodies was minimal and feeling the heat of his body radiating to you, a shallow breath escaped your lips.

The tips of his fingers were mid-air, meeting your red cheek.

“It’s okay...” his voice came out as a whisper, the pupil of his eyes wider than normal.

You two remained like that, staring into each other’s eyes for seconds that seemed like hours, noticing his broad chest moving faster, both of your breaths in sync. He then made a step back, both of you embarrassed, somehow happy to have made it that far.

“Es war schön dich zu sehen.” he whispered slowly, leaving you alone in the room.

A smile formed on your lips. You take the book in your hands, still feeling his own on your skin, burning like a fire and warming your heart.

It was good to see you too, König.

[batsplat]

if you were to direct a motogp movie (or make a one season of television) what season or rivalry would you make it about? and more interesting what artistic liberties would you take? it doesn’t have to be a straight up biopic bc imo those are often boring, instead it could be something like velvet goldmine (1998) aka fictional characters whose real life counterparts are pretty obvious, veering in like rpf territory. anyways👀

did you know. one time this guy put a curse on this other guy. and he never won a race again

anyway, look, I do feel like by this point that's the BORING answer from me, but obviously it's where my mind first went. I'm not sure I'd actually want it out there in film form because by now it's badly enough remembered that it's like, my cute little niche story, and I think there's something fun about the Wider World even within the motogp fandom not exactly getting how bonkers the whole thing was. (I know other humans have canonically watched motogp 2004 but I swear even journalists have forgotten some key key details and it's kinda annoying but also fun.) bold words from someone who's been blogging about it!! weird gatekeep-y instinct. but basically my job here is done as far as outreach is concerned - I wrote a very long post, now I get asks about it twice a week that allow me to think about it some more with the four other people who care, perfect balance. that rivalry doesn't need to go mainstream!! the whole point of it is that it's kinda cruel but narratively pleasing that it's gone under the radar, because it's another sign valentino won. but obviously, I cannot literally make a film about this, so the hypothetical repercussions I think maybe we can put aside for a moment here

okay I came back to this bit of the post after I increasingly got into of the spirit of coming up with dumb ideas, but it did make me flesh out what I'd even WANT from something like that. I'm with you anon, a lot of biopics are boring!! if you want to just know what happened, please just literally go and 'watch the races' and 'read books' like what are we actually getting here. you kinda want to give it a purpose for existing, right, a way of portraying real/mildly fictionalised events in a manner that is also taking some kind of stance on the material AND is doing stuff you can't do 'in real life'. thing is, look, you could make 2006 into a film, and I'm sure it'd be perfectly nice because it's fundamentally a solid underdog story (well, inherently winning a title with repsol honda is NOT being an underdog but you can write it that way), but also what are you doing beyond just telling people what happened? I feel like that generally about single seasons, they're not really doing anything for me. I was also turning around the biaggi/valentino rivalry in my head in part because that's the one valentino gave as his answer for 'rivalry he would turn into a film' (marc big wet eyes sitting right next to him), but like. a film about that rivalry from valentino's pov is fundamentally not something I'm interested in. you have all these isolated very memorable moments that make it work as a rivalry, like you can absolutely spin them into a dramatic yarn that goes through the genesis of their conflict to middle finger gate to punching gate to assen + donington + sachsenring + phillip island 2001 and it's basically *insert rousing music* successful coming of age. at most you can lean into the fact valentino became successful at being a dick. like idk it's fine but also what's the point? valentino is challenged in a sports context by biaggi, he's challenged because he realises his words have consequence and the press actually reports the words he says to journalists (the horror), but he is fundamentally not challenged on a personal level. that's the entire point, right? it's the ultimate comfort zone rivalry - biaggi is a dick who it is quite easy to hate and also reacts poorly to valentino's initial provocation. the animosity escalates and it is inherently fun to beat him. valentino is mean to him, but it's not like he even really crosses any lines to beat him. like you can make it into a film, and if you twisted the material a little bit you could make it satisfying, but I don't want to!

now the way the writing process of this post worked was that I was going to breeze through a bunch of non-sete/valentino rivalries and explain why I think some of them don't work for our purposes here, but then I ended up writing myself into changing my mind. so my take on the biaggi rivalry is that actually, you CAN make it work but it has to be from biaggi's perspective. basically, I think you've got to amadeus it (a web weave I have been thinking of making at some point btw). so,,, it's a meditation on talent and how unfair it all is, maybe minus the bit where salieri poisons amadeus (I know that doesn't happen in the film) or dresses up as amadeus' father to, y'know, make him write a requiem on his death bed. and it's not amadeus in that HERE, the clown prince gets a happy ending! but it's more like, in thematic terms, I think you have to zero in on this bit. biaggi didn't have parents who shoved him on a bike when he was three years old, he didn't have parents who were invested in his motorcycling career (or even necessarily particularly invested in him), he started the sport late and discovered that, yes, he did have a prodigious amount of skill in it - but one that he started honing far later than valentino did. he approached his career with a sort of grim resolve, surly and irascible and not interested in making friends with any of his competitors but very, very good. he goes away from the race track and dates all these models, he irritates fellow riders, he's not part of the gang and he's happy about it. he's very successful! four 250cc titles, wins his first ever race in 500cc at a time when doohan was very much winning everything. he's also just like,,,, an interesting and spiky enough character it's not hard to make him come alive

but then of course you have this gradual emergence of the amadeus character, the one who challenges his established position in the court of,, well... motorcycle racing, and also as the guy italians rooted for! and valentino's obviously, y'know, in so many ways the exact opposite from biaggi, and he's super young and cheerful and lively and is doing all his silly celebrations and is being a bit camp and goofy and treats motorcycle racing as a party (you really want to lean into the culture clash here, like in amadeus it's because you have stuffy austrian court vibes but here it's because everyone is having their bones broken every two minutes and just how... kinda grim a lot of motorcycle racing was). and he's also this innocent! yes, he insults biaggi, and yes, in retrospect we know valentino is kinda evil, but at the time he was a kid with a big mouth who was a little taken aback by how that biaggi feud sort of escalated beyond what he'd actually intended it to do! and biaggi just, hates him. and I think, sorry to the real man max biaggi here, but you've got to play with how once they're actually competing with each other, it's miserable how there's just this unbreachable gulf in talent. like, whatever biaggi does he cannot win! he isn't going to defeat valentino over the course of a full season! which is depressing and horrible and CRUEL, because there's this inevitability to the whole thing... and also! because valentino doesn't DESERVE it. and you don't have to go full salieri pleading with god to explain how god could give this CLOWN all this talent, but it's kinda the same vibe! how is it valentino, who is constantly just having a laff and canonically maybe wasn't the biggest gym-goer in the paddock and is just generally seen as, y'know, a bit of a dandy, this foppish clown who everyone loves and who doesn't have to work hard to be good - how is he the one who is winning so much!! it's miserable and unjust... and I think how you portray this is that you really emphasise the kinda, repetitive nature of the defeat. like, I think you probably want to make this into a non-linear narrative where all this biaggi backstory is communicated somehow but you don't just start it when he was born or whatever - you start it in 2001 when they're competing for a title and already hate each other. and then you heavy on the time loop vibes. the whole cinematic language and all that other shit should emphasise how all these weekends are structured in exactly the same way and if you're losing to this one guy, all these different weekends can start feeling the same. it bleeds into each other, it feels inescapable, you're trapped in this narrative you can't change... worst of all, you even return to the same places again and again - like play with that! biaggi keeps coming back to where they had the fist fight, to where valentino first insulted him all those years back. you play up the disorientation and the misery of it all, plus biaggi canonically gives us all this kinda messy freudian shit to play with like how he was dating 'valentina' and his relationship with her was falling apart because of how miserable valentino was making him. it's all there!!

ANYWAYS the way you conclude this story is!! welkom 2004!! so again we can artistic license this a little bit and, uh, ignore sete (though I do also think it's fun if you lean into biaggi being displaced as a rival and staring at them being friendly and happy with each other from the outside) - but the key bit is that valentino is finally making the big error. biaggi wasn't winning titles on a yamaha, since he left yamaha has gotten worse, now valentino is making this big mistake out of his own hubris. language of cinema that shit and make everything brighter and more hopeful.... the time loop is finally over, biaggi has escaped, this year will be different!!!! everyone in his circle agrees, valentino is fucked. step off the plane at welkom (pre season testing didn't happen in this universe) and it's literal dawn of a new day... staring out at the sun and finally, biaggi can move on, can live a new and different life. anyway. obviously we all know what's coming next - you have this big dramatic climactic race where biaggi throws himself at valentino again and again and again and he comes so close to winning it... but he doesn't. and you have valentino living his best life, being delighted, but the film is focusing on how like,,, we're bleaching the joy back out of biaggi's life, how actually he's returning to what he already knew. and it ends on the podium, with the camera focusing on biaggi on that fucking second step or zooming in or whatever (idk how cinema works) and it just finishes on this shot of biaggi dead-eyed in a bleak world, trapped again for eternity aka until the end of the 2005 season. done!! I'm not sure this is quite what valentino had in mind, but. well. that's how I'd do it

this is from the pushkin play from 1832 not the 1984 film but like. low key pushkin already kinda nailed the essence of sports rivalries in the 1830s and we just have to acknowledge that sometimes

right. so the casey rivalry is where I'm going to go completely off the wall. skip this bit to get to the slightly saner stuff. this is also one I fully admit to sometimes playing around with in my mind anyway, but. uh. I'm gonna be taking this one in just. well. places. I do have a vision here but I also don't quite know how to explain it in a way that doesn't make me sound like I've lost my mind, but well if you're still reading this then that's on you. so lemme get this out of the way: the classic sports biopic formula would work well with casey. if I had to point to a single rider I would sports biopic-ify, it's casey. so you have all this kinda,, obvious adversity that's easy to get across, and it's a narrative you can follow chronologically without too much trouble. you've got all the childhood stuff, the australian racing club not letting him join them, the move to britain, the rising through the ranks, it's also this very biopic-friendly 'nobody ever believed in him apart from like three people' stuff. and the premier class is also narratively satisfying, from the rocky rookie season to the kinda shock success to then all the lows of 2008 and 2009 and the physical ailments and the anxiety and then the switch to honda and the title and then him deciding to retire... that's all good stuff! you can absolutely biopic-ify it! gun to my head and sure, I can walk you through exactly what bits of his life I'd focus on and put in what order and so on, and I think ultimately you could make a very good sports biopic from that

[some mild gore to follow in this next section]

but also. thing is. that's fine. it's just not where I want to go here, because again I feel like at that point you can also pick up his autobiography and just read it - because what you're basically doing here is just filming that. and I get how this stuff works, you're bringing the story to a wider audience, you can show stuff in a different way in that medium etc etc, and that's all great but also I don't care about bringing stuff to a wider audience. I care about doing fun stuff in my brain. so what I'd actually do here is just, basically, go in the exact opposite direction and ditch all the realism. genuinely, ditch the live action stuff, we're going animated - what I'm interested in here is stuff where we need to be able to fully suspend our disbelief and lean into some surreal shit. I'm not going to bury the lede here: my idea is that you take that thing where casey said he hated how ducati was ruining the bike by letting valentino's yellow encroach on it and, basically,, just go all in on that bit. like come on, that is so singularly visually evocative, it truly captures a lot of what's going on thematically in that rivalry. (see also x and x for the most relevant casey posts.) casey sees valentino as the malevolent force, this infection! he associates him strongly with a specific colour, one that can be sickly or unnatural or just... evil. malignant, malicious, malevolent, all the m words. to casey, valentino is a personification of everything that is wrong with the sport. valentino is literally the walking manifestation for so many of his issues, from the dangerous riding to the lack of respect to the lying to the cult of personality to the obsession with image and the media to the backroom games to the politics to the injustice of how different riders are treated differently, like!! he's literally all of that! this is a topic for another post, but this plays out in a lot of kinda, weird and funky ways where it's a two way street and sometimes when casey talks about motogp you go 'actually I think that's just valentino?' (btw he also does this about 'europe' right I don't think those are europeans you hate casey that's literally just valentino) and sometimes when he talks about valentino it's kinda? this feels like it's about a little more than the bloke himself? and basically, right, I think you need to take this to its natural conclusion where casey used to admire him and look up to him and want to emulate him on track and then gets disillusioned when valentino's worshippers turn against casey and casey is the one to bring valentino down to earth and... listen, I think you need to play around with valentino being a literal god. and I think you need to have casey stab him to cover up the yellow on the ducati with blood

okay. look. the idea here, right, is that we're basically making the subtext text, and just digging into that process of 'bringing valentino back to earth', of taking on a god and having the audacity to succeed, and also treating valentino as this sort of. infection in his own mind. the bike is literally being infected!! casey may have left the ducati but he STILL has some fidelity and love for this project, those were his people he worked with, and now valentino is coming in and just twisting everything around himself!! but also I think how this functions is that, okay, so you have all this normal stuff that's the actual 'plot' in the 'real world', but the ISSUE with the real world is that there's a lot of stuff that just. isn't possible there. like the thing casey wants in that rivalry but is never going to have is... a captive audience. a big problem casey has in that rivalry is that he doesn't get the chance to actually say a lot of stuff to valentino. he starts using the media more and more and plays the game on valentino's level, but there's still this disconnect where mr straight talking is the valentino rival who valentino never really blanks or freezes out like... there's a disconnect! there's valentino the person, who casey never quite figures out how to just straight up hate, and then there's valentino the character, the racer, the rider, the god who casey DESPISES. but when they're doing small talk at pressers and podiums, casey doesn't get to talk to that version of valentino! he just talks to valentino the person, who obviously isn't literally a different person but is also not going to explain to casey where he's coming from, is he, and also isn't someone who casey can explain to where HE is coming from. and that gulf... it does bother casey. I don't think he can quite verbalise why either, but there's just... this creeping tension. I think it'd be easier for casey if valentino really were more of a caricature, just kinda a dick in all walks of life. and there's just these canonical hints of that... the way casey talks about how he's sure valentino as a guy is fine, but he never knew valentino like that, the whole 'I'd like to go with valentino for dinner to tell him where I was coming from in that rivalry' thing, like!! it's there

so basically EYE think what you should be doing is using the wonders of storytelling to actually. embrace that element. and just leave realism behind now and again. valentino is a god, he is literally worshipped, he's part of this pantheon that casey is trekking to reach. casey is brave enough to take him on in combat, he is the first one who is truly able to draw blood. he sees how valentino isn't just a god of joy or battles or speed or the SUN or any of that other stuff - he's a disease, an illness, a god who is also a false prophet... the worship never quite goes away, because who ever truly gets rid of their valentino rossi complex, but casey eventually is given the chance to face a chained valentino and kinda,,, ritualistically publicly humiliate him using the ducati as both this sick thing that has to be 'cured' and this symbol of valentino's failure. I'm sorry, visual language goes brr here, like chain him up, do weirdly eroticised torture idc!! (psst psst valentino's fucked up shoulder also extremely goes brr here, casey low key a teensy bit weird about valentino's injuries? his thing after the 2010 leg break where he goes 'why's everyone making such a big deal about this other people break their limbs too' and then after 2011 jerez immediately asking whether valentino's shoulder is okay in just a very obviously passive aggressive way. literally he opens with that, valentino isn't using it as an excuse or anything, for some reason it's already on casey's mind and I would politely contest it was out of genuine concern for valentino's wellbeing!! it's just kinda? I'm so compelled by it? I suppose it is kinda about how valentino's suffering gets taken more seriously than his own? how those absences are received differently by the motogp world? idk I find this fun because casey does know this is one thing valentino can't really be blamed for himself, so it just slips out a bit? but yeah, casey + valentino's injuries, nobody's talking about it but I sure will, let casey get weird and mean and a teensy bit sadistic about valentino's injuries in an artistic manner.) crucially I like animation as a medium here because I think it's easier to lean into surrealism when you don't have to hand hold the audience so much through the suspension of realism, also there's just some imagery you can do in cooler ways through animation where in live action it may just look. weird. (I think you can also do one of those things where you have a live action film with only those specific bits animated but also... why? it just feels like in live action you need more 'justifications' for things, like am I saying casey is having some weird hallucinations and is losing his mind? no I just want to have weird vision sequences ffs.) the colour stuff!! valentino/casey is big on the colour coding as a rivalry, to the extent casey is even, y'know, drawing attention to it in the literal text!! yellow and red are banger colours, valentino is big on imagery himself with all his sun + moon motifs, it's kind of all there to make the easy next step to kinda zany surreal imagery. ritualistic stabbing works better in animation, you can kinda get the blood to like. drip down and overwhelm the yellow illness that's slithered out across the bike

and. AND of course what this entire set up allows you to do is.... give them an opportunity to talk. they can't talk in real life! casey CAN'T give him his real thoughts on anything, and fundamentally valentino can't either. they're opponents. they're strangers who chat sometimes. it's not just that they aren't friends, it's that fundamentally they cannot be friends - because their ability to do their actual jobs depends on a certain level of professional distance. valentino of course does have a decent read on casey, and vice versa, because when you're figuring out how to defeat someone then (if you're valentino) you're looking to play the rider too. valentino's entire approach depends on focusing in on his rivals and attempting to throw them off, to make them unravel. he's watching casey closely!! the entire journey of casey's first three seasons in the premier class essentially becomes like, this god of their world focusing in on him. figuring him out. trying to gnaw away at him. obviously, animation also allows you to go big on the panopticon-y imagery which is kinda fundamental to their rivalry, because of their fundamentally oppositional stances to 'performing' for the ever present cameras where there IS a little bit of common ground in they have both struggled with it. but valentino isn't going to ever say that to casey! casey isn't going to open up to valentino! so if you give them,, you know, a different arena to express themselves, where casey actually has this external figure to talk to (as he's like, cutting him open I guess) whereas valentino actually is put in a position where he's allowed to respond, where he can taunt casey a little bit, where he can interrogate casey's approach and also the similarities between the two of them and how casey has been forced to become a little more like valentino to challenge him... because the thing is, right, valentino is so big on message discipline with his rivals and has completely stopped talking about that rivalry post mid 2013 that, first of all, you have this complete imbalance in who's been telling this story for the past decade, but second of all you kinda don't have a sense of what valentino would respond? idk!! I think this is mainly fun as a thought exercise for me specifically but also I do think it's kinda, digging into some of the bits that make this narratively work as a rivalry, how valentino in this rivalry is actually just kinda... removed. like he's not really emotional about it!! at most he's a bit bitchy, but even that just feels about The Game. it's the most extreme in this regard followed by jorge - but with valentino's other feuds you kinda... see a bit more an unguarded moment, see something a little more real there. the casey rivalry feels so uncomfortable precisely because valentino is a little... inhuman in this one. I mean, if you want to have valentino as some kind of cross between a deity and a monster in any of his feuds, this is the one. casey's just an obstacle to him. idk don't you think casey kinda wants to chain valentino down and stab him and make him see casey a little more... well, I think he should want it and I think it'd be fun to see and get them to talk to each other. ugh and also all the implications of making the faith vs non-believer elements more literal... casey the heretic!!!

there's some obvious stuff here you'd have to figure out, like 'how do you make this work as a narrative even to people who aren't familiar with casey stoner at all' and 'who the fuck do you think the target audience is here' and 'you do know this is not the kind of thing that would ever be made, right, go back to the casey stoner sports biopic like a sane person' but!! I do think it's material you can make work if you're just,,, efficient and smart in how you're actually telling the 'real life' version of the rivalry. also in my head this is. idk. an animated limited series not a film, which then brings in other stuff like 'episodic structure' because I'm fundamentally opposed to tv shows that think they're films. and look, I'm not going to write an entire film script treatment here, I just think a good writer can figure this stuff out. blood on the ducati is the framing device for everything else, simple. lots of animated floating eyes I reckon, first casey is watching valentino and then valentino is watching casey and the whole world is watching them... and it does bleed into real life just a little, where you're wondering whether casey is actually imagining/dreaming this stuff or valentino is or if they both know it somehow... you can get away with more ambiguity in animation. anyway, if you do want more thoughts on this one specifically for whatever reason, let me know because this one I do actually have more on

also laguna 2008 is a bit tortoise and the hare coded if you really think about it

[end of gore]

so. on to jorge. hm. the thing about jorge is that he was kinda writing a coming of age film in his own head, so like - yes, that's what you do go for? you can play it straight and follow how jorge has cast his rivals, or you can pin the whole narrative on the fact that jorge has cast them - the kinda artificiality of the narrative, the way jorge is this storyteller who isn't being recognised as much as he thinks he should be, isnt adequately appreciated. the way there's this three way discourse between what jorge thinks the story is and what the public thinks the story is and actual. you know. reality. I think this is a bit more light-hearted, like you know how the best stories about teenagers take their emotions seriously but also let them be kinda silly? because young people are silly! jorge was silly! he's got a lot of CHARM because he's so cocky and naive and full on and intense and awkward and kinda off-putting and tactless and a bit all over the place and so painfully, painfully young, like he's a good protagonist because that's a KID. but also, obviously there's also a lot of extremely not light-hearted bits of his story - everything about his father, his manager... idk this one's another one where, I don't just want to make it a generic sports biopic, and I'm trying to figure out the clear narrative arc here? I mean, you can point to the end of 2010 and really lean into him choosing victory on-track over popularity off it. the problem with 2010 is that it does not work as a dramatic season, yeah sure with the magic of biopics you can hack at it to shit but also. idk. what are we getting out of it. I think for narrative purposes you want to maybe narrow in, and end it at the end of 2008, with the switching of the numbers this kind of moment of emancipation? but also! this feels like we're straying a bit too far away from the fun sports elements and I don't want to REALLY suggest all the ways in which you could mine jorge's personal trauma in a jokey tumblr post, so I'm gonna move on from this one

the problem is 2015 just straight up doesn't work as a jorge-centric narrative, except in a very kinda comic way that leans into how absurd his role in that season was. 2012 as a season is a bit... y'know, it's fine. okay it's mostly terrible, but that's fine too. but it doesn't have a great narrative hook. which kinda leads you to the problem that I do think the valentino rivalry is more... juicy from jorge's pov, because for valentino, jorge is just kinda? an obstacle? idk he's more normal about it, it's just his job to destroy the guy, you know how it is. but also 2009 does work better narratively from valentino's pov, like it's the build up to catalunya specifically you can dramaticise... idk though, I do love catalunya but my heart isn't really in this exercise because I think valentino isn't really being... challenged here? it's a title fight where he's fundamentally using a set of tools he's already perfected, to beat a guy he doesn't really give a shit about. when the italian press is down on him pre catalunya, it doesn't spark any genuine self-doubt - it's just a handy source of extra motivation. there's no epic highs or lows that season, not real ones. and yes I know I was talking about making valentino who gets stabbed repeatedly to cover up an infection a moment ago, but that reflected real EMOTIONAL truths!! I'm committed to thematic fidelity more than I am to literal fidelity

genuinely I think the best way to tackle jorge is with the jorge/dani parallel journeys... what, film? tv show? maybe show actually - you don't have one coherent narrative Statement per se but you're constantly charting those journeys in reference to each other, really rooting it in their respective points of views, no neutral detached cinematic language like I want everything to be very much written to be from their eyes!! going from one to the other and back again. and you're charting these different journeys, right, and how they both captured different flavours of like... emotional successes and failures. I think it's actually about failure, yeah, about having to accept there's something you can't have and might never be able to get - whether that's universal love or a premier class title or whatever - but Actually, that might not be the end of the world. and during this process, they go from being enemies to tentative friends!! guys who realise they can maybe actually understand each other better than they thought!! this real moment of interpersonal connection. you have all these media narratives and the managers and so on and the fact they're competitors as these built in reasons why they've just been pitted against each other from the start... but y'know, again, it is also just a bit about maturing, about being able to set that aside, about making your peace with defeat and failure as an element of growing up. you can't win everything, maybe there's something you really really really want and you're just not going to get it, but at the end of the day it's kinda... yeah. self-acceptance. idk this is the nice one

so with marc you can go several different ways here I guess, and again he's also perfectly decent sports biopic material, probably second to casey in that category like yeah sure do the comeback story. but also, we do already have a very good self-produced documentary about what he thinks the narratives of his career are? idk this is also just a personal taste thing, I'll leave him to doing all the injury stuff himself, I don't have much to add there. we'll get to the obvious one in a second, but I was trying to figure out if there were other places I massively felt like you need the cinematic touch. and, again, the 2013 season is obviously very exciting!! but also, you have it covered in.,,,, multiple documentaries, I don't feel I have a take their either? his rivalries with dani and jorge aren't really substantive enough to sustain a bit of cinema. dovi... I mean, what are you saying there? what's the arc? I feel like if I tackled dovi, I'd go somewhere else and really go all in with the ducati stuff, and make it a bit more... you know, stark, stripped back, basically just the emotional component of how much he gave to that project and how he managed to beat away one rival after the next and how it all ended up falling apart in a kind of anti-climactic way? he's also good sports biopic material, but in a way I think the marc rivalry is the bit of his story I have the least to say on. so eg, 2017 is a dramatic season, but he's also kinda fine after it? he always knew it was a long shot, he tried his best and he got really close and then he lost. you can't amadeus it because dovi isn't (fictional) salieri. basically, I think what I'm saying here is that dovi is too well-adjusted to feature in this post. though I'd totally watch a film about his 250cc seasons, like it's a bit annoying because HE is the underdog who loses both title fights to jorge, but it'd still be kinda fun idk. I wouldn't really know what to do with the material but if someone made the film I'd absolutely watch it

right then. the thing about sepang 2015 is... yeah, sure, of course you can do it, it already exists as a narrative but... yeah, what are you adding!! idk I always think when you're adapting something, you kinda need to have a reason for it? I mean, what are you doing that's not already there in the footage? idk maybe this is just a sign of having been a fan of this sport for one too many years but to me the idea of sepang 2015 can get a bit boring (or maybe just repetitive) where I need a new TAKE on it to really get into the idea of fictionalising it. like where's the auteur's touch y'know, what can I still add to this!! but it also needs to WORK for someone who is new to the story, which kinda just makes you want to tell the story straight.... y'know the story is strong enough and COMPLICATED enough to stand on its own and it IS good but I don't really have anything interesting to say beyond 'yeah sure that'e be neat'. I can't tell you why, but I also don't think the casey approach quite works here? the idea of providing a framing device with which valentino and marc can actually talk to each other... eh. don't like that. hm. okay wait actually I just turned it around in my head for... a while and I think I've got an idea to make the worst motorcycle racing film of all time. so, my central stupid film-making gimmick here is just. centring the fact we're completely reliant on a few guys and what they're telling us in making up our minds, and our removal from that story and the imperfection of their perceptions and so on. so I think you kinda make a point of... not actually showing the motorcycle racing? like, you always show it by showing other people watching it, you're showing the tv screen rather than the actual racing. even in the cinematic medium, you're centring the theatrical aspects, where you drill it down to just a few characters. valentino. marc. uccio. marc's fuck ass manager. maybe a crew chief or two. keep it limited though, all the others are kept at a distance - you're constantly focusing in on the same few characters. and very early on you basically just like... get them to fourth wall break by telling you, the viewer, with their actual words how racing works for them, what meaning they take out of it - and again it's this remove because we're never allowed to actually feel the racing for ourselves (no helmet cams), and it sets up that as the tragedy unfolds, again and again we're just hearing from them what happened. it's all zoomed in on how claustrophobic the entire situation is, like doing the race direction room after the sepang 2015 is perfect for that kind of thing, and crucially they're only ever addressing the audience because they can't address each other. but fourth wall breaks also obviously draw attention to artificiality! I realise they are very much like, lame gimmick central, but also are these men not inherently about lame gimmicks... idk it's basically the same story but at least it feels like a kinda interesting way of telling it. kinda trite, but cinema allows you to get to the point and let valentino actually play with the camera... so literally take it into his own hands and lead it around and tell the story from his point of view. and you can play with how they do both change in what stories they think they're telling, how they're constantly revising their own stories, how their stories completely clash with each other... like. make them literal narrators. that's my pitch

so. one interesting pattern that has come up with my approaches to these rivalries is that with the exception maybe of the 2015 stuff, I feel like I'm more naturally inclined to treat valentino as a narrative device and centre his rivals. a big part of this is that valentino is a fantastic narrative device. he's kinda. this looming presence in every narrative in this sport where you can just sort of use him as a sort of way to poke away at all these other riders. the monster everyone loves who you are trapped with. BOO!! he's gonna eat you! which is fun! but ALSO, crucially, several of these rivalries aren't that emotionally challenging for him!! again, with casey right, he wants to beat him, but he's not having a crisis of faith over losing to casey. he thinks casey is annoying, he wants to beat him because he wants to win. valentino is casey's foil, but casey is not valentino's. valentino makes for an excellent personal antagonist to casey, but the reverse just isn't true. casey isn't forcing valentino to reexamine his approach except 'ramping up the levels of being a dick on-track' - like, yes, that's a serious competitive challenge, but also valentino is very comfortable in his own skin in that rivalry. sure, you could have valentino have some kind of massive revelation about the casey rivalry, but like. he doesn't in canon. he changes his behaviour towards casey in pretty predictable ways depending on what the relationship demands from his perspective at any given time. there's nothing more there

now, obviously you know where I'm going here. there IS a rivalry where you can make the argument he changes as a result of it, there IS a rivalry that tips him over the line and makes him to do stuff he hadn't done before that, there IS a rivalry that happens to coincide with a period of his competitive life that challenges him both personally and professionally. now, look, I have already talked about the sete rivalry. you know what I think about this rivalry - and if you don't, I really already have told the story here and here and here and here and also here. I think this works perfectly well as a narrative in its own right, and it's one you can tell from either perspective... but you kinda need both. I think again you probably naturally lean towards starting it from sete's perspective and that first proper meeting (I mean, idk if it is their first actual meeting, but it's the logical obvious place you start this story) with sete giving valentino advice during his first 500cc test and valentino just, y'know, ignoring him and being a cocky shit and then crashing. so you get to see sete being kinda exasperated by the whole thing. also, obviously ibiza is like, a key framing device here, like it's the most obvious in-your-face way of tracking their relationship with each other. I don't actually know how often they partied there together, but it must have been at least twice and if the commentators are to be believed it must have included 2003. artistic license and you can add one or two more times, but mainly you want to focus in on 2003 onwards right. so you've got this 2002 one where it's, y'know, high point of their friendship and in the name of narrative efficiency, you establish here that sete is looking to make the honda switch. the emphasis is on how valentino has been winning everything but on the flip side you're getting the first insight into his discontent. and there's a bit of a vibe of, what could you possibly have to complain about? like you are winning so much? so it's late one night where they've had this slightly unguarded alcohol-fuelled moment of genuine vulnerability but in the end it's actually characterised by how... unsubstantial the link between them is, because they wouldn't talk about this kind of thing with each other and they might both be similar in some ways but also don't gettttttt each other. it means you can return there as a location in 2003, where you've just had sachsenring and valentino's dramatic loss but they're still partying together and it's like. obviously In The Air that not everything is quite right... their relationship is already gradually altered and twisted because you're introducing this element of actual stakes and competition (obviously in 2004 they do NOT spend that time together, as far as we know anyway, and you can show them being very much not together at ibiza as a very obvious Oooh Things Will Fall Apart and maybe already haveeee)

and I do think basically I've already said what I think the themes here are,,,, several times by this point, so I'm not going to belabour the point. I think all of this fundamentally works as a narrative with like, minimal massaging and rearranging of the elements for dramatic effect. it's all there already, everything from sete's arc with the [insert non-tasteless way of covering a real life tragedy that fundamentally alters the course of sete's career] and how that leads to sete becoming the challenger and how he does want to win and his eventual downfall. with valentino, you have the element of liberation and self-discovery and... well, growing into your own but also kinda having the narrative drawing attention to how 'growing into your own' can involve becoming a fully realised character who is essentially quite cruel? you have this kind of... build up, right, towards this moment of revelation, where you lay bare who these two people actually ARE at sepang 2004, and then again at jerez 2005. valentino has gone his own way, he has freed himself from the chains of honda, he has embraced individualism and the chance to define himself and his own legacy and stand on his own two feet and not rely on the strongest bike or all this stuff within honda where they chose him as their flag bearer, for better or for worse... like he comes to his own here! he takes the step from 'great rider' to 'legend' because he gets to this dramatic moment of stepping into the unknown, he takes this massive risk that could have cost him so much, and it ends up elevating him. but it also puts him under duress, and in that moment he reveals himself - whatever sete did or did not do at qatar 2004, EVEN IF sete did all that shit, what you are left with is valentino vowing to ruin this man. valentino uses sete to make himself 'better', to fuel himself as a competitor. valentino turns sete into a tool in his own story. and again, thematically you've got all this stuff about how sete was managing the image of the rivalry and how valentino took advantage of that - how sete needed it to remain respectful and valentino was completely willing to abandon that. like, you have two protagonists who really are similar in quite a few ways, who think they have this shared understanding with each other, but when it comes down to it? they end up being super painfully different

now I can go on about this and how to play it straight, basically, you can just do that rivalry and I think it'd be cool and fun and very easy to arrange in a good narrative way. BUT I've kind of already. done that. like I don't want to suggest a film that is basically a nicer version of my tumblr posts. so I want to take this in a slightly different direction, and I think what we need to consider with this rivalry is this: what if you made the curse literal? basically, what's always kinda charmed me about this rivalry is that the curse should not work and all the misfortune that befalls sete after that is so comical that it's kinda... what do you do with that? and the answer is you just lean all the way in. my pitch is this: what if valentino sells his soul to the devil?

so, you know faust, right, and you know the bit at the start of goethe's faust where god and mephistopheles are basically making a wager over how corruptible this one human is. and faust is like... he's kinda disillusioned, he feels that everything he's dedicated his life to in academia is fundamentally hollow, gets very close to committing suicide. and faust has gone a bit new age-y, gotten into all this mystical shit and he's got this pentagram that ends up preventing mephistopheles from leaving his presence in their first meeting... and basically what the devil can give him is like, the chance to attain some true pleasure, and for that faust is willing to bet everything - so if faust can just have that, then maybe eternal damnation is worth it. and look, I'm not going to summarise the entire plot of faust here and it does go off the wall a bit with all the gretchen stuff, but the point is you have this version of the devil who is fundamentally a cynic and is attempting to win an argument with god by making this human succumb to his own nihilism. and what faust basically does is like, abandon his normal life where he's trying to live by normal virtues and goes off on this journey with the devil. and there's this little moment where mephistopheles,,, pretends to be faust and takes on the role of an academic adviser (you know how it is) and seduces this random student away from the word of god and sends him down a wretched path, which ends with this bit:

like, a big part of faust's tragedy is supposed to be about... well, hubris, of the relationship of god to man, of no longer being afraid of the devil... and obviously, this is all framed very much in terms of religion, but at the end of the day it's also about, you know, having purpose - faust is living a life that no longer has any meaning to him, all of his knowledge and studies now no longer fill the void inside himself. his nihilism opens the door for mephistopheles, and is what makes him willing to accept the devil's terms. now, and I am so very sorry to goethe here, I think we have some material we can use here to explore the valentino/sete rivalry. obviously, you can't do a one-to-one, you need to get rid of some of like, the depression and all that - there were times when valentino was feeling 'a bit low' in 2003, but not 'faust thinking everything he'd done in his entire life was pointless' low, yeah? also, unless you want to do a real long view here and even then it can't really be justified, there obviously isn't really a 'tragedy' here from valentino's perspective. like, he wins! this isn't valentino's tragedy, it's sete's! I was being a bit facetious when I said he was 'selling his soul to the devil', and you can kinda parse mephistopheles' motivations in different ways depending on what flavour and what interpretation of him you're dealing with here. you don't 'damn' valentino, you essentially just turn him into a tool of the devil!

so, this is how this works out in my head: the devil works more broadly as the manifestation of competitive impulses, the kind of 'how far would you go to win' question as a bloke who shows up and literally talks to the characters about it (magic of cinema). he's also engaging with valentino feeling like his victories no longer having meaning, with being disconnected from honda and from the entire culture there and just feeling like he's going through the motions. there's this element of like... opening the door to what is essentially a journey of self-actualisation, bringing him closer to being a 'god' but also allowing him to fully come into his own and become himself. to win on his own terms. I reckon ibiza is my preferred narrative device where the devil talks both to sete and valentino there (separately), first literally as a mysterious stranger and then... maybe not? he's talking to them at times of their lives when they're not at ibiza and it's not happening there in the physical world and they both end up kinda having to confront they're dealing with some potentially malevolent supernatural entity. but the important elements of the devil is that a) he's not going to do anything the humans don't actually ask for themselves, and b) everyone knows he's following his own agenda and you should be careful of the requests you make of him. so it's kinda like... essentially, the backdrop of this rivalry unfolding is they're constantly being challenged to decide what lines they're willing to cross. which culminates at qatar... and maybe you do have sete making like. a teensy mistake. a teensy error in judgement, one that is both real and deliberate but he could not have known would get that reaction and instantly regrets. and valentino, who is I think inherently sceptical of the devil coming to offer to help him and maybe does crank out the pentagrams (remember, the whole point of faust is that he was too arrogant to be scared of the devil, or one of the points anyway), in a moment of fury does decide - no, actually. I will take that step. I will curse sete. now the thing is, dramatically this is a teensy bit tricky because when you're talking about being damned by the devil, usually the consequences are a bit more severe than 'not winning a motorcycle race again' (yes, you can get into how sete did also seem genuinely cursed after that, cf his ambulance/bus crash situation, but again we are flirting with being in poor taste in this tumblr post). but the thing is, right, you have to lean into the silliness here! qatar 2004 is inherently silly, a CURSE is inherently silly, like real life is already silly here! you have to engage with the people where they are, and for these athletes all this shit is so heightened that the emotions are full on. like, valentino would've sold that guy to the devil! and to him not winning another race is basically the worst thing that can happen

so, obviously, you get to do the actual curse stuff. curses are inherently campy fun, the devil doing curses is campy fun, getting valentino rossi to crank out the pentagrams is inherently campy fun. you get to play around with this, right, like you know that bit in the brno 2005 race commentary where the commentators are talking about how valentino might as well have a little radio to talk into sete's helmet to remind him of how sete had fucked up at the sachsenring. OBVIOUSLY obviously obviously it is just so... idk scrunchy and fun to have this idea of valentino becoming a malevolent enough force to literally do that.... like damn the commentators did kinda eat with that?? ughhhhhh do you ever think about sete leading the qatar 2005 race for most of the way???? like that's SO fucked up because you literally have articles from about the race going 'hey maybe sete can break his curse' and then the commentators are talking about curses having one year expiration dates but obviously they!! do not!!!!! there's one race where sete goes off track and the commentators are talking about how valentino will surely have smiled into his helmet like that's so fucked!! it's so fucked!! but idk I think basically you have all this creeping curse-y stuff and devil stuff and then you get this twist and then it just becomes misery zone for sete until you sort of. compress the timeline and have him retire without getting into what happened at the end of 2006. and valentino just relishing in all his very worst emotions. and you've got sete who was the better man after jerez 2005, who took the high ground again and again and again and it did NOTHING for him.... and then he's cursed and his career is finished and the devil has had his fun getting mixed in with mid noughties motogp. and now obviously this is inherently kinda dumb and corny and silly but it's the devil!! mephistopheles to me is allowed to get up to dumb shit sometimes, let him have some fun!! idk I like curses being literal idc

I think the obvious critique here is 'this doesn't really feel like it gets the message of faust'. which, yes, is true - and obviously the way narratives are structured, a satisfying resolution isn't 'well selling your soul kinda slaps, actually'. and my statement to respond to this argument is as follows:

this is essentially canonically what happened. valentino DID do something kinda evil and it DID work out 100% for him and it DID kinda slap. at least when you add in the devil, you're making explicit the bit where it is a little bit bad. also, is sports not inherently about selling your soul for success... the story of valentino and sete is essentially about how we are twisted by competition, how pretending that we don't wish ill to our opponents is inherently dishonest. it is about lifting a facade for something that is already inherently there in the souls of men. this is obviously inherently a deeply cynical stance, but this is also a deeply cynical story beyond all the fun battles and camp dramatics. the devil is a cynic and he is basically the point of view character of goethe's faust - he's the one who is positioned closest to the audience. sports is all about living out some of humanity's worst instincts in a relatively low stakes setting, which means we get a free pass to have fun with a deeply cynical story that goes 'maybe selling your soul to the devil is fine, actually'

do I stand by this stance? not really, but the whole fun of storytelling is that sometimes you can just be kinda mean. I think goethe would get it... you can tell which character he enjoyed writing the most

the OTHER way you can do this is centre everything around qatar 2004 as like,,, the mystery box element...... okay look I have now made two posts that go WAY too deep on the 'what really happened' element but I do loveeeeee the whole thing like I would just make a film about that very end of the season and we show it from all these different angles as different characters narrate what happened... like fuck all the riders I want to hear from whichever mechanic used the scooter... the gresini mechanic who gave evidence to race direction.... various honda higher ups the crew chiefs like this is jb vs juan martinez it's war!!! obviously you still have the same emotional/thematic hooks as the general rivalry does but idk I would have a LOT of fun figuring out how to structure that, I loveeee mysteries... maybe I'd write it as a mockumentary yeah..... this one's just fun

anyway. a lot of stuff going on in this post, huh! you can probably tell I didn't edit this much. my classic tell when I edit my tumblr posts is I remember how 'paragraphs' work. unfortunately all I have energy for are like. a bunch of rants about things in my brain. I think when tumblr tells you that you've reached the maximum number of characters per paragraph and you need to figure out where to put a break, it's probably a bad thing? on the whole, my stance is I don't have anything AGAINST mildly fictionalised versions, but for me I'm always more of a.... well I want to take advantage of the full specificity of the events as they happened or just come up with a completely original story. kind of person. I know this ask probably wasn't looking for my 'what if you bled out valentino as he's strung up above a red motorcycle' vision but yeah. with a lot of biopics I'm always a bit 'well you could just read about this couldn't you' like I need stuff to take some kind of a stance on the material it's using... all my stuff takes a stance. that's all I've got. obviously all these stances mean that basically none of these things could ever be made. and I know what I said above but if they called me up to write the casey stoner biopic script treatment, I would also do that. if you've actually read to this point, give me a shout - you're a real one and I love you

[quendiviner]

34 :3c SUCH a cute word

THANK UUUU and omg yea so true!

34: bauble

summary: just a small little concersation hehe <3 haven't thought about Toby & Jack for a while so here we go. Long hair era Toby once again deep in work or something.

"You're muttering to yourself."

"What?" Tobias blinked. It was so deep looking through the datasheet it barely even noticed Jack's voice.

"I said, you're-"

"I heard you."

"Good," Jack laughed, "just making sure you're not losing yourself in that little job of yours."

"You have nothing to be afraid of, trust me."

"Well, sure, if you say so..." he paused for a while. "What's this little bauble?"

Tobias turned around and noticed him holding a metal trinket. "Put it down, please."

"What?" Jack looked at it with a surprised look at his face, "What's so important in this? Looks like a childs-"

"Look, it just is important to me. Please, put it where you found it."

"Fine, fine, man, did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed or something, Toby?"

"No, I just-" it sighed and placed the tablet down on the table, "You told me you could help. Instead of helping you're laying on my bed. Why are you even going through my things?"

"You told me I can come by as often as I want?"

"Yes, but-"

"Well? That sounds almost like inviting someone to move in."

"I- No, that's-"

"So I'm just looking for places to put some of my everyday things to... Is that bad?"

"No, but- Ugh. You could've asked me if there's any places, Jack?" Tobias rolled its eyes and turned back to the desk. "I swear, I do love the idea, but that's just, well, not a box I'd want anyone else to open, especially without my permission."

Jack sighed and rose from the bed. "Secretive, are we?"

"No. There's just some very important things I wouldn't want to lose. Or for them to break. Especially when I have many other problems as well," it felt him looming behind its back, looking over its shoulder. "What?"

"Nothing. I love watching you type aggressively when you're annoyed," Jack murmured and gently kissed the tip of its ear. "Why is that bauble so important to you, sweetie?"

Tobias sighed. "You won't leave me alone, will you? Fine. It's a gift from my dad. A little puzzle toy. I love to solve it whenever I'm stressed."

"And why is it in the box?"

It stared at the screen for a while, trying to think of a smart kind of answer that would have sounded logical. "I...I don't know. I think it became so familiar to me it just stopped working. Or then I'm just too stressed or something."

"You poor, overworked little thing," Jack said and reached his hand out to shut down the monitor, "You need a break."

"I told you already, I want to finish this thing as soon as possible, and-"

"I doubt you'll get a good result if you hurry and do things while tired, though," he whispered and turned it around, "Man, look at you, you look like tou haven't slept forever," he gently moved a stray hair strand away from Tobias's face and kissed its forehead. "Come on, you'll feel better."

"Mmm, wait, I just-" it picked up a post-it notepad and started writing something.

"Toby..."

"Okay, fine, I'm done," it muttered while sticking the note on its tablet cover and leaned on Jack. "Now, if I'm soooo tired according to you, then surely you won't mind carrying me to the bed."

"Hmm, I guess I could do that."

-----

taglist (reply/dm/ask in tags to be added or removed):

@spaceratprodigy @elvves @dekarios @aeducanthaig @edgepunk

@dickytwister @hiddenbeks @terendelev @tuntau @babylon5

@claudiawolf @velocitic @eluvixns

[bolithesenate]

12, 13 and 22 (Feemor) for fandom ask please!!

12. funniest/craziest AU I've come up with

Idk man, at this point I've made it my explicit goal to come up with wack stuff that no one else before me thought of, so....

But my top 5 crazy ideas that are brewing in the back of my mind as of now include:

teen Jocasta timetravels forward to the tcw era and saves the republic by claiming to be herself and Dooku's lovechild

post o66 Korkie Kryze accidentally mandopts kidnaps Korto Vos and then it's a comedy of errors empire survival story. They probably team up with the rest of Korkies buddies and also Jin-Lo Ryce bc I love him.

backwards timetravel where all the nerds + Arath and Lorian wake up in their child bodies after their canon deaths and then go off and take over Serenno (it makes sense in the AU i swear) (or it doesn't and still is a fun story)

Jaster & Tarre teamup of total nerdery where they get sent back in time by the Manda to save Mandalore, only their idea for saving Mandalore hinges on saving the Jedi Order first. It's another Master Jereel (my beloved) story where no one except them themselves believe they are doing an amazing job at impersonating Jedi.

speaking of Tarre: my complete backstory for Tarre Vizsla and how the most cringefail jedi to ever jedi was so bad at jedi-ing that he accidentally became mand'alor

but tbh there's so many other whack stories I've already wrote, am writing or simply brainstormed about that there's always others I could talk about. These were just the ones that came to mind first.

13. character/ship I haven't drawn/written yet but want to

hmmm lemme think whom I have done total zero for as of now (I've got a ton of stuff on the backburner that y'all haven't seen yet bc it's spoilery for certain fics)

this is actually really difficult hahahahaha bc whenever a character or a ship piques my interest I tend to immediately do *something* with them, hmmm.

OH!

Grand Admiral Sloane!

I've already planned her to be a character in my sequels rewrite, but I've never come around writing any of it! But it will happen!!

And as for the ship, hmmm. (this question is getting a lot of 'hmms'). Maybe Pre and someone. I've done Pretine stuff already, but I think Pre/Jedi ships have some potential. Crack potential, mostly.

Yeah, that's the only one I can think of.

22. A headcanon for FEEMOR

My boi!! I love him, he is so funny.

I think I've mentioned it before, but I think the funniest thing to do with him is giving him all the makings of a chosen one/anime protagonist and then have him stubborn his way into just being A Normal Guy.

Xanatos calls him a farmer, but what Xani doesn't know is that that's the biggest compliment Feemor could receive. Fee is just the 'Refusal of The Call' trope personified and he is so good at doing it the Force actually eventually gives up on making him its chosen one.

All he wants is to be left alone, help some people and sleep 8 hours a day. Is that so much to ask?

(it is, for someone in the disaster lineage, but Feemor comes by the Yoda stubbornness truly)

[napsfork-brainrot]

Postal 1 Dude x Reader: Meeting

A/N: This is a mini-fic of how you (yes, you!) meet the deranged, yet somewhat of a softie, Dude. Enjoy this silly little idea!

Paradise... What a joke name for this town.

It's as if the town was only given this name just for a sick joke, a spit in the face, to those that were unfortunate enough to live here. The only reason you had decided to even set foot in this town is because it had low rent prices for housing, and it was the only thing you could afford without having to "make ends meet", so to say.

The town of Paradise, Arizona is home to many people. Unfortunately, most of these people are criminals, violent drug addicts, and genuinely hateful people. Sure, you weren't a saint yourself, but you tried to not go out of your way to cause harm to others, even if you felt that they may deserve it. However, with your minimum-wage job at the coffee shop and the numerous rude customers coming into your work just to give you grief... you could swear that you were losing your patience and felt thin layers of your sanity being cut away from your brain.

After a long day of work, you walk away from the coffee shop, carrying your stuff in your arms. All you want is to go home, take a shower, and go to bed. It's the same thing you do every day, anyways.

Go home. Take a shower. Go to bed. Wake up. Go to work.

Repeat. Forever.

Even though you want to go home and just relax, you can't help but feel that you need something new in your life, something that can help you get out of this endless spiral of repetition and silent despair...

You were losing yourself in your thoughts, not paying attention to anything as you walk down the sidewalk. As you pondered how to get out of your emotional rut before you became too depressed, you suddenly collided with someone!

"Ah..!"

You yelped out, stumbling a bit as you caught yourself. The person you collided with stopped and turned his head around, looking at you with a blank look on his face. You looked back at him as you stood up straight, putting a hand on the back of your neck as you started to apologize.

"H-Hey, sorry, man. I didn't mean to bump into ya."

You said, giving him an awkward smile, hoping that he wasn't too angry or annoyed with you. However, the reaction you got was something very, VERY, different from what you were expecting.

The man turned around to fully face you, and you could tell that he was... definitely different. Long ginger hair, a ginger goatee, a pair of black shades over his eyes, and a black trenchcoat over his shoulders. He gave you a small smile and he shook his head, speaking rather quietly. He seemed to be rather shy, giving you a small chuckle before he spoke.

"Oh..! Aha... N-No, sorry, it's... I should have paid attention. You're fine..."

The man said with a shy smile. He held his gloved hand out towards you, introducing himself.

"The name's Dude. ...Well, it's what people call me, anyways. ...Don't think I've seen you around here before."

You felt a small smile come to your face as he spoke and you shook his hand. You gave him your name before pulling your hand away, continuing to look at him with a comforting grin.

"Nice to meet you, Dude. Yeah, uh, I actually just moved here not too long ago... It was the only town that I could really afford rent in, so... Heheh... Ya know."

You said in a somewhat joking manner. Dude seemed to find that funny as well, laughing along with you. The two of you stopped laughing and he nodded his head, running a hand through his hair as he continued to smile.

"Haha! Hey, I don't blame ya... Hey... If you need anything, and anything at all..."

Dude said, his voice turning into a slightly more serious tone. He turned and pointed at a dirt driveway off to the side of the road.

"...My house is just down that dirt road. You can come on over if you ever need anything... Or, anyone, really."

He seemed to have genuine care for you, even if you two had only just met. Dude continued to speak, empathizing with you about living in this town.

"People here are... weird, I know that. So, meeting someone like you is... kind of a breath of fresh air, you know? ...Sorry, I must be sounding all soft right now. But, I mean it. You come over if anything happens... Got it?"

Dude said, putting one of his hands on your shoulder as he gave you another smile.

You were hesitant for a moment, a bit bewildered by his trust and protectiveness for you. But you knew that he meant it. He was different, just like you.

"...Okay, Dude. I will."

[gremlinbabe]

Teen wolf head canons part 1 :

Derek isn’t Eli’s birth father but his adoptive father.

Laura Hale is actually Eli’s birth mom, which still makes Eli a Hale just not Derek’s direct kid.

Context: *Derek is 23 in the pilot, is approximately 26 in season six but he’s 35 in the teen wolf movie*

*Eli is 15 years old. Meaning that Eli was born when Derek was 20 & Laura who was 25-26 was most likely pregnant in ny when Derek was 19.*

So if Derek was theoretically the dad, the mom couldn’t be Paige or Kate because it’s already past that time frame & it can’t be Jennifer or Breadon because It’s too early to match the timeframe of Derek being 20 When Eli born.

Now let’s set the stage for pre-pilot:

Laura (21-22) who is now the new alpha after the Hale fire. She comes back from college only to find her super traumatized 16 yr old brother & her uncle (27-28) in a coma. The sheriff helps her and Derek take care of all there arrangements of funerals burials, the formal adoption of Derek, and lodgings for her uncle cuz he’s not waking up no time soon. All because Laura use to babysit stiles and he’d seen both hales growing up over the years enough that he met their parents and him and Claudia eventually became friends with the Hales. And he felt he owed it to those kids to help them out.

Laura tried to wait out peter’s coma hoping he’d wake up but something is wrong so her and Derek stay in beacon hills. But within a year and a half the Hale fire happened, her uncles in a coma, Malia Tate is missing (birth mom tried to assassinate her and she shifted into a coyote) and her mom and sister died from an “animal attack”, and the sheriffs wife getting sick and dying outta no where of dementia (most likely cuz her unrealized magic mutated cuz of nematon or nogitsune) leaving the man a single father of a 10 yr old stiles who turns into a mean alcoholic so can’t help them at all in that moment.

So Laura makes an executive decision to get Peter longer term care and gets her and Derek the hell outta beacon hills and moves them across country to Ny because she deems it too unsafe and needs to protect the last of her pack.

(All that happening back to back should’ve been some warning signs that some shit was happening w the nematon even back then. But the only family who could’ve figured that out early on was burned out and the only eldest surviving member that could’ve possibly had any idea was in a coma.)

Now Laura & Derek are in ny probably 22-23 & 17 and Derek’s probably realizing it was Kate and not an electrical fire and swears off ppl cuz he’s a lil martyr and treats himself poorly as SH & Laura realizes and put him in therapy and herself so she can lead by example.

They start doing a lot better, Laura meets someone at 23-24 most likely in college or a job & it goes really well. But doesn’t tell him about werewolves for safety reasons & Laura(25-26) was most likely pregnant while Derek was 19.

When Derek is 20 her baby is born and Laura lets him pick the name because he’s been doing amazing in therapy. He goes with Elias (for that one kid Laura use to baby sit with the name too hard to pronounce, who’s mother called him mischief, who talked his ear off, who was named after his grandpa aka stiles) Abel (possibly the birth dads name) Hale

And Derek is so happy to be a uncle and Laura happy to be a mom and her bd apart of their growing lil pack. * so much fluff & love & happiness and first steps*

Eli’s first word is my(mine) and if he deems it his he can & will steal whatever it is. Dada is his second word but not to his dad it’s always to Derek which Laura finds endlessly hilarious. First sentence is “my dada” to random lady in ny trying to hit on Derek while he’s in the park with Eli. Laura who’s not too far off is cackling in the distance and Derek is a tomato.

This all last like 3 years till Laura starts feeling a pull back to beacon hills because her pack it’s. Coming more stable and eventually checks on it through the grapevine only to find if there’s a mysterious alpha in beacon hills and decided to check it out before bringing her family back and to do a in person visit to coma uncle to make sure he’s ok.

PLOT TWIST There actually was a mysterious alpha and he was trying to take Peter out of his misery of being in a coma 7+ years as a werewolf.

The nurse being mysterious alphas human beta had gave the alpha updates.

Only peter wakes up and kills the alpha turning into a alpha and goes crazier with a alpha power surplus and recruits nurse beta into helping him gather into about the fire cuz he puts together the Kate thing pretty fast after finding out his hole family died (minus Laura and Derek) died and hyper fixated on getting revenge.

Still new to his powers his alpha whatever sees Laura as threat instead of niece and kills her.

*Laura dies in pilot at 28-29*

[leporellian]

don giovanni modern au headcanons

'didnt you already make a modern au headcanons list like 2-3 years ago' yeah and i'll do it again baby. this time though its better

(if you're wondering i sourced all the last names from various don juan plays over The Years, except for elvira's, which is a tribute to her original actress in the moliere play.)

on don giovanni himself - giovanni tenorio is, essentially, a rich idiot with no day job. his dad is a republican congressman, and giovanni says he "disagrees" with him, but really this means "giovanni calls himself a libertarian and thinks weed should be legal while Not Caring about any of his dad's other policies". - (he will change political affiliations on a dime if he's trying to persuade/seduce someone.) - (it's also funny he's a libertarian bc he's also very much a catholic still.) - giovanni's parents are pretty excessively doting on him and refuse to believe that their sweet little angel, their only child, could be a... well, you know. in childhood his mother was excessively permissive while his father was straight up physically abusive (in the "kids these days don't get paddled like they used to" way), and while it's unclear how much of that influenced the kind of person giovanni became it seems like both parents regret their parenting in their own way. - because of his family being old money, as well as his dad's stock investments (don't tell anyone LOL), giovanni has a stupid amount of money he usually treats as entirely disposable. he has no idea how to manage it and usually spends a good amount of it buying stupid shit to entertain himself for like 5 minutes or to aid in a Scheme. - (this has led to situations where leporello will come home to find giovanni holding an umbrella cockatoo and swearing it as their new pet, for example, because giovanni thought it would be fun. and it was, for maybe about twenty-six minutes.) - also because of his dad being a rich congressman with Connections giovanni is pretty easily able to get away with everything. any time leporello questions this giovanni goes "oh it'll be just like ted kennedy" which annoys lep to NO end because he doesn't even know what to say to that - he lives together with leporello, his childhood-friend-turned-roommate-turned-possible-indentured-servant, in some stupid ass mcmansion somewhere in the chicago suburbs. i'm saying naperville for now bc naperville is like the mcmansion-slash-unhinged-rich-people-behavior capital of illinois godbless

(why does everyone in this modern au live in or around chicago? because i know that place best. personal bias sorree)

on leporello - leporello catalinon was childhood friends with giovanni, which is funny bc they're so different in terms of background and upbringing - he was born the eldest of five (his siblings are all sisters) into a working-class jewish household, not too far from where giovanni grew up. he and giovanni met in elementary school and bonded, because back when he was a kid giovanni was actually somewhat nice. - eventually giovanni got in trouble in high school doing some dumb (and in hindsight relatively harmless) shit and giovanni's parents decided being his being in a public school was the problem, so he and leporello fell out of touch when giovanni relocated to some catholic school - leporello has a passion for the archival process, so he went through college with the goal of someday becoming a historical archivist. this was a good idea in that he's good at that and a bad idea in that it left him with a bunch of debt he couldn't pay back. - while coming home the summer after college he got back in touch with giovanni, who was like 'oh hey you know you could come live with me and i won't charge rent AND i can pay off your college debt for you'. leporello was like 'oh that sounds great :)' only to realize once he moved in that Something Was Not Right About Giovanni Now, and that somehow in the six years they had fallen out of touch giovanni had become... not different but definitely lacking something. - (but at this point he'd already been roped into the abusive-friendship-slash-indentured-servitude deal and he couldn't imagine any other options. so.) - also he's autistic but you knew that already.

on elvira - elvira duparc actually grew up more near central illinois, which... for those unaware of the illinois Landscape once you get out of chicagoland it turns into 'corn and weird republican backwater towns' Fast. so she grew up in a small republican town - her family was one of the better-off there, and it was a town where everyone Knew each other. so like she was considered upper-class within the community but compared to the kind of money giovanni or even ottavio's families have it's not That much - giovanni ended up in the area while on a trip somewhere and you know how it ended up going. he neglected to tell elvira about his parents or anything so until she finds him again she has No idea his dad's a congressman - he essentially pulled a 'look at me i'm so helpless and lost all on my lonesome' sort of thing and elvira, who really is ultimately an 'i can fix him' person even if she would deny the charge, took him in. in some ways he was seemingly perfect bc he was just as catholic as her family but there was also a definite subconscious idea of Escape in that giovanni had traveled much more than she had and if she were to be his partner she'd likely go move in with him away from home - anyway he abandons her and the whole town immediately turns on her and she's gossiped about like she's the town's prime slut. so she buys a beat up volvo and gets out of dodge to go find giovanni and hold him accountable (or... fix him.) - also she's bisexual and has adhd but she doesn't know either of those things until After the plot of the opera. godbless.

on donna anna and don ottavio - anna ulloa and ottavio robinson are engaged but really they don't seem to be a good couple... anna is always rather closed off (Read: Closeted Lesbian Alert) while ottavio is. definitely says he loves anna and appears to be devoted to her but it's unclear how much he'd actually do for in a time of crisis. and Well - ottavio and giovanni were actually college buddies and their families know each other bc ottavio's dad is Also a congressman. ottavio claims he doesn't endorse any of giovanni's "tomfoolery" but at the same time his attitude about it is to essentially just ignore it. some suspect he secretly envies giovanni in some way and just never says anything about it. ottavio also seems to be trying to go into local office and work his way up to being a gov official on the same level of his old man. - actually ottavio's first Government Job was being an assistant for pedro ulloa, anna's dad, who's a county commissioner. which was how he and anna ended up meeting. - anna very much wants to hold office just like her dad. in fact she probably wants it even more than ottavio does. but she hasn't ever actually Ran for office yet and just busies herself with various government jobs. meanwhile ottavio is like, on a school board or something and is almost sort of indignant about it - anna is deep in denial about being a lesbian and tries to reason why her and ottavio are a Fine Couple Actually constantly. she's been asked on multiple occasions if she's aromantic and she's like NO... i'm just PRAGMATIC and TAKING IT SLOW that's all... but like. looks into camera We know what's going on. - (to be fair anna's parents were very distant with one another to the point you could claim Both of them were deep in some closet or another and just never fully figured it out. so anna doesn't have any baseline of what a relationship Should look like.) - (anna's dad was basically like... you know the dad from bambi? best possible comparison i can make.)

on zerlina and masetto - they're just some guys. literally - zerlina aminta and masetto batricio are two freshly-graduated-from-high-school sweethearts who are like, going into the local community college together or some shit. zerlina wants to be a schoolteacher but honestly she absolutely would teach children swears if she was able to so she's a long way from her goal. masetto... idk what masetto wants to become. a physical therapist maybe? - they haven't even voted for the first time yet so they don't actually know that much about anyone's Government Parents. like when giovanni's trying to butter up zerlina he's all like ...you know my dad could let you get anything... he's congressman tenorio... and she's like Who the fuck is that. which rubs giovanni more of a wrong way than he admits. - zerlina absolutely still reads warrior cats and could name nearly every major and minor character in my little pony: friendship is magic. note that neither of these passions are in a childish way but in a 'oh she is kind of unhinged godbless' way. - masetto is also autistic but in like the complete opposite direction of leporello. leporello is a chatty extrovert autistic who is so so desperate to please people and understand social skills. masetto is polite but beyond that he really cannot be bothered to give too much of a shit. - which means between masetto "will say the obvious thing everyone is thinking but doesn't want to say" and zerlina "has no filter and will give her honest opinion completely unprompted" they WILL collectively tear you a new one without even realizing what they're doing. leporello was around them for like 30 minutes tops and they somehow fully psychologically analyzed him and nearly drove him to tears without realizing it. (which is funny given he's like 10-11 years older than them.) - zerlina can and likes to drive like a maniac but she chooses not to most of the time <3 she wanted to be a monster truck driver when she grew up and honestly it's unknown if she ever actually gave up on that dream or not

on Other Stuff - i think giovanni dies by grease fire. he's overworked leporello to the point lep can't cook like usual, and once elvira gives her as-per-canon spiel abt him Stopping right the Fuck Now he's already got his mind off it. so when things erupt into flames he doesn't think and just shoves a whole pot of water onto it thinking That will Stop It (it didn't) - i'm not entirely sure the specifics of the statue here but i think leporello very clearly remembers that after they'd both been burned by the grease fire- leporello being in better condition than giovanni- giovanni started shrieking about pedro ulloa and "the man of stone" and started panicking about his last rites. the smoke had made leporello too woozy to see much but he does feel like Something Else Was There. who knows how much of it was real or how much of it was leporello's smoke-induced delusions - afterward when leporello was in the hospital over the whole thing giovanni's parents decided to give him the choice of either suing them or them just paying him enough money to clear both his medical bills and the leftover debt he already had so he can start anew. leporello is too tired to fight at this point so he just takes the money. he finds he has a bit left over and donates that away to women's shelters - the whole story is reported in the media as being that giovanni committed attempted assault and manslaughter, and then purposely killed himself over it with a grease fire when he realized the cops were closing in on him. the death report isn't exactly accurate but leporello doesn't know how to explain what he's seen so it just remains that way. giovanni's father resigns in disgrace a few months later because it led to the reveal of just How Many of his son's actions he was covering up. - leporello and elvira are friends of Course they are friends. she shaves off her hair and becomes a total biker butch and he ditches all the clothes giovanni got for him that he found So scratchy and uncomfortable. they both live in their own apartments now and both are visibly much happier for it - (although i do imagine the don's abuse and the nature of his death- he had a closed casket funeral, i'll say that- have left leporello with a case of ptsd) - about a year after everything goes down anna dumps ottavio and starts dating elvira like 2 weeks later LOLLLLLL... and another year on leporello finds his own partner that he loves and trusts. so. they're happy in the end even if the path there isn't smooth - you might also ask, 'wait if anna and ottavio both wanted to hold political office who got there first?' the answer is zerlina. she ran for school board and got in by sheer willpower alone like something out of looney tunes. it turns out she's way better at arguing about things than she is at actually teaching kids. GODBLESS!

[radi0activesmile]

Negativity below the cut. Kind of hoping if I type it up and put it out into the universe I can get over it.

My rule that says I won't rp with twin muses came from more than one bad experience. For a long time, I didn't even want to rp with people who wrote the characters I did even if they were writing a different character, because I could never shake the feeling that they were judging me/using me as a way to build themselves up.

EX: Ha. They think this character would do (x) when of course they wouldn't. I'm such a better write for (x.)

(It does not help that this did, in fact, happen back in 2020. Someone, not realizing I was the same writer as the page they were poking fun at, invited me to poke fun of... me.)

When I became a part of this fandom, I knew that writing with people who also write the same character I do was something I would have to get over. There aren't that many characters (well. Well developed characters. This fandom has a talent for pointing to a character who's had 3.5 lines of dialogue and was on screen for 50 seconds across 8 episodes and create a three page long backstory for that character. It's incredibly impressive.)

I've been here for a little less than two years now, and it's been fine. Recently, though--

and maybe it's because I got a new boss in July and I swear said boss is trying to weed out the weak by making work unbearably miserable and impossible to do in an eight hour work day (so I usually work 2 -3 hours a day for free), so she can see how many people will quit--

-- and maybe it's because I'm on antibiotics because said job brought me dangerously close to a kidney infection, and antibiotics have always done weird things to me--

-- that anxiety's come back in a new way. I find myself stressing out a stupid amount over the idea that someone's frustrated I'm not writing a character the way they think I should.

I always felt that part of the draw of rp was that everyone brings something different to the table, and that you can write with three different people all playing the same character, and those three threads will go in three very different directions, and three very different relationships will be formed.

But I can't shake the feeling that, if I don't write a character the way someone else perceives them, they'll get frustrated and drop me. And I end up kicking myself for the way I handled x interaction weeks after it happened. I shouldn't have sent that/ answered that/ typed that.

This is, of course, a me problem. No one is saying I should feel bad for interacting with them, it's just a feeling I can't shake.

Writing it out does make it sound incredibly stupid, but I've typed this far so I might as well click post.

[inevesgf]

JEALOUSY, JEALOUSY • LANDO NORRIS

two close friends ignore their love for each other until it becomes too much to handle for one of them — wrote by inevesgf.

content + warnings: kind of angst/comfort, swearing, use of she/her, driver x female!reader, mentions of sex, jealous lando wink wink.

masterlist + requesting rules.

you searched in all different types of nooks and crannys in the world to find love. desperately grasping at the idea, peaking in places to find that good in the bad. but it was hard, you knew that, time and time again you were reminded of why you shut yourself out so much. the worry, the pain — in the end you thought maybe the good times didn’t even make up for the bad ones. you had plenty of misfortune in your love life throughout the years, whether it was your fault or your partners. you found yourself becoming picky: a perfectionist to the love you receive when the love you gave wasn’t quite good enough either. it had come to the point where you became so detached from finding that perfect person. you stopped searching and stood silent like a predator in a bush waiting to catch its prey.

love comes unexpectedly, you had heard that saying plenty of times before that now you have come to believe it. you stopped wasting nights on men that didn’t matter, you stopped trying to impress people — you were just yourself. as years past, friends found themselves shocked at the idea that you would date someone. they saw you as headstrong, independent, and the thought of you in love made them question if they were dreaming. you didn’t want to be seen like some hopeless romantic — someone who didn’t want to love — but you didn’t want to seem desperate either. it seemed as if not even the perfect medium of those two was reachable where you had now hid yourself.

you had been single for a few years now and even if you didn’t want to admit it, you missed being in a relationship. those around you saw you as independent, someone who didn’t need a man, but the need was more of something your heart wanted. you loved too hard, it’s what got you hurt in the end, and as much as you tried to fight it off, it was still there. you masked yourself with a facade that you were too good for any man, that you didn’t want them falling at your feet and nor would you fall at theirs. love was complicated, embarrassing, and you couldn’t even come to fathom the situation you had wiggled yourself into.

you had found yourself in a world full of men, smack dab in the middle of being an engineer for mercedes in the formula one. you took your job seriously and didn’t let much get in the way, but to admit you were far more than just an engineer to some of those men; a friend at that. you found yourself being invited to parties by the FIA, other formula one racing teams, and some of the drivers individually. while you weren’t totally the party type, you didn’t hate the idea of tagging along every now and then. while working for formula one, you put your gaze nowhere else but forward. it was distracting being constantly surrounded by the media, those with higher positions, and even sometimes all-too-good-looking race car drivers. you would never let something so silly get in the way of your position, but sometimes with a little bit of liquid courage, things happen.

“can you hand me my cologne?” the voice of lando norris boomed throughout the hotel room as you cladded your way to the bathroom before handing it to him. “i don’t think i’ve ever seen you dress so fancy.” he raised his brow at you, making you scoff as you shooed him away. “i mean — if the event calls for it, i will. but after this, you’ll never see me in kitten heels again if it was up to me.” you laughed, adjusting the straps of your black dress to sit more on your shoulders. roaming throughout the paddocks before races and on practice days, you had found yourself making friends with drivers simply from running into them. lando norris was one of those drivers, and now you wear the not-so-honorary title of being one of his best friends. though with lando, there were things you did that made you more than best friends: dancing in the rain, snuggling while watching a movie. there was something so romantic about it, but in your manor, you brushed it off as an act of friendship. “you look nice, though.” he sheepishly smiled, combing the curls on the top of his head back neatly. “well thank you —“ you said sincerely before checking the time, “now hurry up, we’re going to be late!”

an event held by the FIA to bring racers and race crew alike together was something you weren’t completely looking forward too. you liked your crew just enough to be alongside them, but not having to see them outside of work was sure a pleasantry. the night was spent with downing shots, doing anything to drown out the despair of being there. you didn’t think your actions would have consequences until the next morning when you found yourself waking up in an unfamiliar bed. you thought maybe it was inevitable to happen; after a few drinks, your worries and cares floated away. when you were intoxicated, you didn’t care who you were with, you didn’t care what you were doing, all you wanted to do was have fun — and fun you had as you turned around in the bed to be met with a curly headed man.

“good morning,” he smiled sheepishly, his eyes squinting to adjust to the sunlight peeking in through the windows. “good morning, danny.” you smiled softly, a tang of embarrassment lingering on your naked skin from under the blanket. daniel ricciardo was a close friend of yours. with you similar humor, it was easy to say that your personalities clashed very well together. you had always had some eyes for the driver, i mean, there was no denying he was handsome. when in groups, it’s like you two gravitated towards each other, always getting along the most. it was awkward seeing daniel in this sense, but part of you liked it. it didn’t feel as much of a stupid mistake like other drunk hookups had; this one felt comfortable. when his eyes finally adjusted to the light in the room, he smiled at you. you smiled back, a little bit of a nervous laugh falling from your lips.

you were lying if you were to say this was the last and only time you had found yourself in daniel’s bed. you would hangout, put on a movie, have drinks, and on some occasions, you’d end up in his bed. it was more friends with benefits than anything, but you couldn’t help but feel safe and respected in his presence. it was a late friday night, around ten pm, where you found yourself sitting atop danny’s lap as some disney movie played in the background. you were falling asleep gradually as time went on and was only snapped out of your tired state when you received a text message from lando.

lalando

➔ can i come over pretty please

you

im sorry lan im not home rn :(

lalando

➔ where are you?

you

GEEZ nosey much?

im at danny’s

lalando

➔ what time will you be home?

you

im not sure, i’ll lyk

you ask sooo many questions

lalando

➔ smh cut me some slack

➔ sorry i want to hangout with

my bestest friend everrr

➔ do you want me to just come

over in the morning then?

you

i don’t know when i’ll be home

im sorry lan

lalando

➔ nono its ok, don’t worry

➔ WAIT

➔ YOU DONT KNOW WHEN

YOULL BE HOME? IN THE MORNING?

➔ ARE YOU SPENDING THE NIGHT

AT DANIELS PLACE?!?!?

seen at 10:24pm

a small laugh escaped your lips as you read landos frantic confusion. you were sure he would pelt with you hundreds of questions tomorrow and you knew exactly what you had to do: deny, deny, deny. lando and your other friends always tried to pry personal information out of you: deep secrets, hookup stories — you thought it was funny. you prided yourself on being a partially opened book. people knew things about you, but not too much, and you wanted to keep it that way.

a cozy night spent at danny’s laying in bed and watching a movie was something you looked forward to. sometimes it had you questioning if you liked him. it was a funny thought, a silly one, especially considering most dates didn’t go anywhere besides the bedroom. it was basically written in ink that you and daniel were merely fuck buddies and nothing else. you two had mutual respect for each other, but that respect wasn’t enough to do anything more than just please the other. you liked it this way and so did danny. you enjoyed it, but deep down you couldn’t help but wish it was someone else. all those years you spent desperately craving a relationship now put you in a place where you didn’t care. you were young — you had to try new things — and maybe even so sleeping with a driver on a rival team would point you in the right direction.

days had went on and you found yourself once again at daniel’s house. this time he had invited you over to hangout with a few of his friends, have some drinks, and get to know each other. he swore they would like you and you used this as a way to get out of the house and meet new people. it was a bit awkward. all the others surrounded around the living area knew each other and their life stories, but you sat there out of place begging for an escape. daniel had disappeared for a bit before he resurfaced in a corner chatting up a group of guys who’s name you couldn’t remember. it didn’t matter to you though, he was enjoying himself so you simply took time to relax. a notification appeared on your phone, another text from lando, with one simple request.

lalando

➔ do you to go out for drinks tonight?

you

again IM SORRY im busy right now,

but i owe you

lalando

➔ busy doing what? daniel?

you

SHUT UP and no actually

not like i was doing him in the first place

lalando

➔ sure sure ok, lie to my face

you

geez ok, calm down lan

come over tomorrow for lunch

lalando

➔ fine, i’ll see you then

seen at 9:34pm

lando’s seemingly jealous manner had you laughing to yourself when your brain started to drift somewhere maybe it shouldn’t. you had known lando since the beginning of your career. you remember the day you full body bumped into him in the paddock, resulting in you two having a laughing fit. something from there told you that you would be good friends, but you couldn’t grasp if thats what it really was. you recalled all that you had done together: going out for dinner, having movie nights, talking about everything imaginable together. it made you question if what you had with lando was far from casual. he was your friend, but you knew friends didn’t long for each others company as he longed for yours.

pouring the sauce onto the noodles, you slid over a bowl of homemade alfredo pasta over to lando, handing him a fork to go along with it. “i feel like i’m just your personal chef now.” you spoke sarcastically, pouring a small bowl for yourself before grabbing a fork. “you would be if your cooking was better.” lando spoke plainly, shoving a bit of pasta into his mouth. “hey! that’s mean! why are you so sour, huh?” you scoffed, not thinking much of it as lando was always this sarcastic with you. “the only thing that’s sour are these noodles.” he spoke, taking yet another bite which had you staring blankly at him. “i’m obviously joking! cmon, you know i wouldn’t eat it if it was bad. you’re the best cook i know.” lando smiled over in your direction, making you sigh a little. “geez — you got me with that one. was starting to think you hated me, mr norris.” you spoke, trailing over to the bowl before picking it up and making your way over to the couch. like a sad puppy, lando grabbed his bowl and followed over, sitting himself right next to you. “i could never hate you!” “oh suuuuure—“ you laughed, placing the bowl onto the coffee table before grabbing the remote. you and lando did this several times a week. you’d order takeaway or make food, put on a tv show the two of you had been binging, and then get distracted by some irrelevant conversation between you too. it was like a cool down time from your hectic lives — some calm in the middle of a storm.

“i don’t even remember what’s happening—“ lando said mid chew, placing the empty bowl onto the coffee table. you gave him a disgusted look, one that read ‘chew before you speak’, before you responded, “it’s because last time we got distracted talking about cats.” “ok well — come here. this time we can pay attention.” lando spoke, opening his arms for you to lay into them. this sucked you back into your prior thoughts. your small hangouts — dates even — had turned into something more than they were before. “doubt that.” you muttered, letting yourself lay your head onto his lap even though you knew the consequences. you leaned your head to the side, attentively watching the show as lando chimed in every now and then to give his two-cents about what was happening. you two shared some laughs and conversations about the shows plot, but nothing off topic to get you two distracted from watching.

the last episode of season two was now coming to an end and you watched attentively to each event that occurred. you were only snapped out of your fixated reality once you noticed landos gaze had went from the tv to you. when your eyes met, you didn’t expect anything from lando until he spoke. “so what were you doing with danny last night?” he questioned, making you roll your eyes. “what happened to paying attention to the show?” you asked, dismissive of the conversation. “what did you two do? watch a movie? sleep with him?” lando spoke, completely ignoring what you had said. it made you a little upset, even though you knew he was most likely just teasing you. the tone in his voice was off, being more plain than sarcastic. “why do you care so much?” you asked, the conversation now merely banter between you two. “i don’t care — i just want to know!” lando was lying through his teeth now and you could tell. the way he delivered his words, the way he looked at you; he obviously just “didn’t care”.

“are you jealous?” the words feel from your lips so carelessly, so sharply. you didn’t know what overcame you, but something about lando being so nosey to your endeavors made you irritated. “i’m not jealous.” his words were plain and you had now sat up from your once laid down position to face him. words couldn’t form in your mouth. you didn’t know if you wanted to squeeze a confession out of him or make him speak for himself. “are you sure?” it was sort of a teasing manner that fell from your words, egging at him to speak a truth you weren’t sure you wanted to hear. “god—“ lando shot up from his seated position, making you jump back a little and look at him in confusion. “i am jealous, i am sooo fucking jealous.” his voice was louder now, loud enough for the neighbors to hear, his confession making fear grow in your friendship. “you’re all over him — always. you act all sweet and nice to me, you let me hold you — and then you fuck him. i don’t know what’s so different between him and i. i can be all the things he can be too!” “lando—“ you could barely mutter out words before he started again, his face slightly red as he spoke. “i don’t fucking care. you’re supposed to be mine.” his words stung, your lips holding back a gasp from escaping. you didnt know what to say, words not seeming to muster up from your mind. “you know what — i’ll leave. just go hangout with daniel. you’ve gotten good at that.” lando tried to leave, his hands clasping the doorknob to your apartment before you stood up. “i try to deny it, but i can’t anymore.” your words seem to catch his attention, his hand coming off the door and back to his side. “i tried to find another explanation for why i feel so safe with you; for why i always want to see you. i just plucked it up to you being my best friend, lando, but it’s not that. it’s not that anymore.” the words fell from your lips as if they were the last words you would ever say. you didn’t know what you were saying, all you knew is that you meant every word.

“you’re not making any sense.” lando spoke. he looked defeated, exhausted, like he was itching to get out of his skin. “i’m saying that i’m falling in love you with.” you didn’t tell lando what he wanted to hear, you told him what you wanted to say. a feeling of insecurity having nagged at you for a long time had finally become too much to handle; too hard to admit. you knew in your industry and position that you probably shouldn’t be saying these things; you knew you should have gotten out of the water before it got too deep — yet something about lando was like an anchor that had you sinking.

there was a long pause before any other words were said. it could have been a few seconds or a few minutes, you didn’t know. the quick pace of your heart beating had time moving so slow. lando approached you, now close enough to feel his shallowed breathing on your skin. “i’m sorry—“ it’s like he broke down, his voice brittle and hoarse. all you wanted to do was comfort him, but now the confident words that you had spoken so passionately couldn’t come out. “no, lan, it’s okay—“ you pulled him into a hug, resting your head into the crook of his neck as he seemingly cried. “i just couldn’t stand seeing him with you like that — i should have told you sooner. i shouldnt have yelled at you. i just don’t like the idea that he got to you hold like i do. i shouldn’t even be jealous, you aren’t even mine.” his arms wrapped loosely around your waist as he pulled back, red eyes with tears threatening to spill. “i know, i know — but it’s all okay now because i like you. i was too blind to see that what i had been looking for was right here the whole time. i feel stupid, but it’s okay, it’s what makes us human.” you tried to smile, it was what was needed at a time like this, and lando did his best to return it.

what was once a rival, a friend, a shoulder to cry on; anything but a lover, had now blossomed into something you had fought for so long. the pain of searching in every nook and cranny had now met you face to face with the hidden treasure you tried so hard to look for. “i love you—“ it was the mutter in the silence, the dark in the light, and you couldn’t help but feel like you found what you were looking for.

[pinetoyles]

Let's have fun with your anons, tell us your headcanons for the daddy's boy!au. Maybe that's what they want. (That's for sure what I want).

On a scale of 1 to 10, how kinky is Levi for daddy? How does dom!daddy Erwin treat him? How did they meet? Give us the deets! (I'm totally obsessed with that au, I'm not gonna forget to ask you for more.)

That's good questions, I wish I knew answers for them 😂 Actually I never thought about this universe details, I created this punkish Levi just bcs of my obsession with idea of skinny punk styled boys and their muscular bfs🫦 And I have nobody to discuss it with, so didn't have a reason to develop this au...

But okay, let me think

(english is not my first language so sorry for rough writing style, I swear in native language I'd described everything better ㅠㅠ)

First of all, Levi is really, really cocky and harsh man despite the fact (or better to say because of) that he's canonically short and skinny. Since childhood he wasn't treated well by other children and teachers bcs of this, he was considered as 'weak' and 'looking like a girl' by them, so he grew up bratty and a bit cold tempered to protect himself from cruel world, so when he finally met a man who liked him just for who he was, he developed that tsundere attitude towards him, not believing him for a long time, but now he accepted Erwin's love and even somehow could confess his own feelings, he became softer and kinder (only to Erwin, huh), but in the bed he often becomes as bratty is he was when Erwin met him and Erwin LOVES IT

I dunno yet how and when they met, I want to think about it more thoroughly, but Erwin definitely a bit older, a lot higher (everything canonically, okay), he's mascular, workouts at least thrice a week (so it would be easy to fxck his fav boy while holding him in his hands❤️), has a great well-paid job, owns a big apartment and expensive car (huh I'm sweating, where do I find this kind of man, too... lucky Levi)

He's very delicate, respectful gentleman, totally unproblematic green flag and before meeting Levi he wasn't kinky at all. Maybe he's bisexual and previously dated only women but now he chose to be happy and date a man 🫦 Coming back to kinks... With Levi he developed A LOT of them. Levi likes praising, so Erwin praises him a lot during s3x (but not only) like "good boy", "you're doing so well", "you're so beautiful with my cùm all over your face, babe", "I love to see your beautiful eyes, when you sucking me off, please look at me, love", "your moans are like honey to my ears, please, be louder, babe" etc

He loves seeing Levi vulnerable and protect him at all costs, making him comfortable, sometimes he thinks that he loves after care even more than s3x itself: wiping their s3men from Levi's skin, kissing his sensitive spots, licking new hickeys, preparing a bath, carry Levi to bathroom etc

Btw Levi likes to bite Erwin when he's at his highest and Erwin absolutely loves it, he's not very sensitive to pain, he lets Levi do whatever he wants, and sometimes Levi, when he's angry for whatever reason, may be reeeeally aggressive in bed

And they're switching! Not really into idea that someone always tops and the other always bottoms, but before Levi, Erwin couldn't imagine being fxcked in the ass 🍑 He moans so nice, too 🫦

What about other kinks... they try a lot of things, I guess, they both like to try new, but it's usually Levi, who suggests things to try and to buy (including shib@ri, pet play, vibrat0rs etc etc even *cough-cough* don't kick me on this one — sounding practice)

Although Levi is sensitive he's into some pain and firstly Erwin didn't agree to do something painful to him like spanking, but they discussed it a lot (Erwin CAN talk through his mouth, Levi not really used to) and now Erwin's ok with these practices, but he always controls a situation. Levi's always safe with him ❤️

Somehow all the lore I reduced to smut, how's this happend.... anyways, thank you for letting me spill some tea, feel free to ask more questions I'd like to speak more about them 😭 Maybe I'll even write a fic about this universe (sadly not in english, otherwise it'll be really bad 🥴)

[wack-ashimself]

Got to vent about the X-files. Would not read i a die hard fan...

It is overreacted. Sure maybe cuz I am watching it 20 years after the fact but….ugh.

I like it. It is like twilight zone in the 90s. But there is SO MUCH FUCKING WASTED TIME. HOURS over the years that add up to…waiting for them to do something.

No joke, I have gotten so used to their predictable (made for tv commercials) format, until the last ½ of the show, I can just have it playing in the background, listening, and I won’t miss anything important because the dialogue is almost the ONLY important aspect.

The special effects are cheap. ESPCIALLY the first couple seasons. The make up looked like it was done by high schoolers. You could see the glue, the bad fade between colors, etc. So watching for a monster scare usually ain’t fucking worth it.

And that’s ALL this show is: jump scares. I only keep watching cuz the plots/storylines are USUALLY solid. But to get there is 90%: looking at something, walking thru something, driving to something, slowly turning a corner at something, etc. It’s all hold your breath and either something scary or something that is NOTHING happen.

The acting is just one step (one TINY step) above a soap opera. I have no fucking idea how david D got and kept this job (kidding-he became a producer & writer. That’s how many of them keep this shit show going. Also found that’s why he left for so long-he wasn’t getting paid for also writing he claims). But after he leaves, it actually gets fucking worse! No joke, because of how bad everyone is after mulder leaves, not only are season 8 and 9 so far the worst things this show has EVER produced (so many plot holes and bad logics almost BREAK this series’ heart), but…I actually want him back? Ew. But the show was better when it was mulder and scully. Not fucking t2 bad guy & some mulder lady wanna be, with scully checking in for the paycheck.

I just have a rule when it comes to this shit. Most tv shows before digital were written explicitly to get 100 episodes (can’t get good rerun money till 100 is hit), keep people invested and watching (even if NOTHING is fucking happening) and always hit that 44:44 run time. So subtract anything that makes you go over and put in filler (ANY) to get to that time. Put in filler they did. I would say 1/5 of each episode is. And….hold your breath moment/traveling moments/investigating moments when ALL they are doing is looking around IS NOT WRITING, IS NOT INTERESTING, and is fucking lazy. HOW this show won awards is beyond me. Maybe cuz I watched it well after it aired but…this feels like the bare minimum of quality, not the max. I guess they didn’t have much competition in the 90s…

I will finish the series, and I don’t regret watching it. There are enough episodes with twists, turns, and I didn’t see that comings to make it worthwhile. The bare minimum I ask for is to be surprised, and this show usually turns that out. But…seasons 8 & 9 (ain’t looking forward to 10 & 11, tho I know mulder does come back) are what I would feel if someone was given all the past lore of the x-files, forced to use 2 new characters that…have no real depth, and said ‘make it as good as it was before.’ NO. You are giving me nothing to work with besides a budget; you ain’t giving me time or more writers. Ugh.

Twilight zone was way better tho. Their Special effects (for the time) were ASTOUNDING. And to this day (like x-files, I will admit) there are clear as day shows/movies totally stolen from these series. In the first….3-4 seasons of the x-files, swear to god there were at least….5 movies that I KNOW were heavily influenced if not outright stolen from the x-files. Nothing is original. Cuz a lot of these x-files were, go figured, based on the twilight zone. THAT is a series I need to watch in full. But I think they had even more episodes than x files….

Either way: X-files is solid sci fi, but with so much filler, and it going to shit after season 7, they honestly should have let it die…

I just want a sci fi/horror/thriller not to be majority hold your breath moments. They’re way too fucking easy, predictable (either something happens or nothing happens. Ain’t no fence on this one), and rarely add. I mean, seriously, how long are jump scares going to be scary? Especially when you see them coming…fuck it. Now I want to do the opposite: make a movie consisting ONLY of jump scares. But I heard that’s the conjuring so….

[ninjastormhawkkat]

Victor wasn’t crazy at the idea of Margret coming here. His boss only intervened when things were in deep trouble which technically they are now. Still, he didn’t know how well his boss would handle seeing Maddrix face to face. Margret knew when and how to get the job done, but she was also a passionate and fiery woman. Victor knows her age won’t hinder her if she wanted to slug the man really hard. He still didn’t know what they should plan to do about Athena. If that monstrous woman was here, then Victor did not want her near his family nor especially his boyfriend Eris. “Something tells me that phone call you just had didn’t go so well.” Victor snapped out of his thoughts as he turned to face Matthew who had spoke to him. Matthew game him a concerning look which reminded him too much of the past. Victor sighed and brushed off his dad’s look. He turned to face Dr. Two Brains. “Hey bro, remember Margret Fuller, the woman who helped us establish our fake identities?” Carl and Two Brains looked at Victor with surprised recognition. Matthew meanwhile just looked confused. “Yeah I remember her, what about her?” Dr. Two Brains asked in a rather surprised fond tone. Victor glanced at Matthew with the same nervous look before speaking to his brother. “Well she just called me because she saw what was one the news. She told me she was coming by hear to check on us. I told her the truth.” Victor worded his response to his brother. Two Brains knew who Margret was, but like with Victor, he had no clue they were part of this secret organization. Two Brains had a shocked looked of realization before he too gazed at Maddrix, This time with a flinched and somewhat sympathetic look making Matthew even more confused at what was going on. Carl had a worried look as well but also a curious expression. “How is Margret, is she doing well?” Before Victor could replied Matthew finally voiced out his thoughts. “Sorry but before we talk more about this Margret woman, can someone explain to me who she is and why were you three giving me nervous and worried looks?” Matthew asked in a frustrated tone. Dr. Two Brains’ face became hardened as he spoke bluntly in a solemn tone. “She was Rebecca’s aunt.” Matthew’s eyes widened, a look of guilt flashed on his face. “Oh, I see.” he muttered. He fidgeted his fingers before speaking. “So it is safe to say I am going to be physically slapped by this woman or worse when she sees me.” Victor and Two Brains nodded grimly. Matthew could understand their gazes now. He knew clear well the only reason she wouldn’t kill him was because of Becky since Victor told her the entire truth about things. A tense awkward atmosphere envelope the room for a while until it was broken by the sound of the door being slammed open. “TWO BRAINS HOLY…” “Language!” Two Brains scolded Jenkins, interrupting him before he could swear in the same area where his child could hear him. “ Also close the door before anyone else pokes there noses into my house.” Jenkins muttered a quick sorry before letting Joe, Sunshine, the other members of the four, and Alan come into the house. Jenkins then turned to the mad scientists but Dr. Two Brains held his hand up. “If your going to ask then yes, we all just saw the broadcast.” Two Brains spoke in a grim and angry tone. “What I want to know how bad has it gotten out there ever since the broadcast began?” Jenkins had an enraged expression too but his face became downcast when Dr. Two Brains asked him that question. "Not good sir. Exposition Guy is already screaming help and running around like a chicken with his head cut off." Jenkins responded. "People are beginning to panic." Suddenly a knock on the door startled everyone in the whole room. Dr. Two Brains pulled out a ray from his pocket and began to slowly walk to the door. He motioned everyone who was on the defense to stay quiet. Two Brains leaned his ear gently towards the door. The knocking occurred again. @dualnaturedscientist

Everyone was exhausted from the eventful day. Dr.Two-Brains had put the mice pups on a makeshift little bed for them to sleep on. They seemed to have grown attached to both Becky and the mad scientist in the short amount of time they were taking care of them. When they put the mice pups down they squeaked to be picked up again. When they finally fell asleep, full from their dinner, Becky and Dr.Two-Brains quietly left. Though Becky didn't want to leave the pinkies alone. The villain spoke softly. "They will be okay there. I promise. Let's be quiet and let them sleep." Becky stared at her father for a moment. She had a thoughtful expression, following after him. Dr.Two-Brains had put his kid to bed. Once she was tucked in. Bob too. He kissed her forehead goodnight. "Goodnight my little ray of hope. Rest well. I'll never let anyone hurt you anymore. I promise. You'll be safe from now on. I'll never let you out of my sight again." He mumbled this, his eyelids feeling so heavy now. He drifted off to sleep, head on the bed. Becky untucked herself and made herself comfortable near her dad. Bob made himself comfortable as well on the opposite side. Both of them curled up next to him. The others had already left for their own home. Leaving Carl, Steven and Matthew with them. Carl and Steven had been taken to the spare rooms while Matthew had only the couch to sleep on. If he was going to be honest it was still much better than the poor excuse of a bed they forced him to sleep on during his time in Maximum prison. The facility where he was transferred was so much worse. He was going to take what they gave. As his son in law wished, he was on his best behavior. It would stay that way until they didn't need him anymore. The truth was, he wants his kids to be happy. Just like any other parent would. Once he was of no use anymore, he will make sure they never see him again. He'll be far away. Just like they wanted. Despite what happened, Gene was still his favorite. He was so proud that his son turned out to be so brilliant, kind from what he saw. He was still all that despite the mouse brain. His son was strong. Maybe even more than him. He gave in, Dr.Two-Brains didn't give into it for the sake of his daughter. Matthew finally allowed himself to drift to sleep.

The next morning, Matthew was woken up by his son cooking breakfast for everyone. Well everyone but him. He assumed that Gene would want to feed the man he hates. Matthew felt guilt. Over hurting his son like that. Everyone else woke up soon, gathering around the table. Once it was set up, everyone helped themself to the delicious and cheesy meal. Matthew stayed in the living room though. Becky glanced over at him, puzzled why he wasn't joining them. Dr.Two-Brains felt his insides twist. As much as he hates Matthew he couldn't let his little girl panic like that. If he's staying here, he must eat as well. He spoke in a less than enthused tone. "You want your plate over there or are you going to join us?" Matthew blinked owlishly. He saw that the table seemed a bit crowded and he doubted they wanted him to sit with them. "I'll fix up my plate and eat on the couch. Thank you." There was no sarcasm in his tone. He was genuinely thanking his son. After they ate, Matthew and Dr.Two-Brains were alone in the living room. It was tense. Matthew wasn't looking at his son, not wanting to make the situation worse. He didn't see the expression Dr.Two-Brains was wearing. Grim. He wanted answers. He was finally able to ask this question he had been dying to ask for years. "Why did you do it? Why did you massacre all those heroes? Rebecca?" Two-Brains found himself even more emotional, bringing up his late best friend. There was anger in his eyes. Sadness. Hurt. Matthew only felt guilty when it came to his family. He hated seeing them hurt. A thought he always had. If he hadn't massacred the heroes, maybe he could've done something to prevent Carl and Steven from being kidnapped. Prevent Gene from going through all that. "You wish to know? I'll tell you. Just a heads up. I'm telling you why and it's not an excuse for what I did. I'm simply telling you what happened." Matthew paused for a second, frowning at the memory. "A good man died so many years ago. Not one hero shed a tear for someone whose intentions were good. Despite his less than legal ways of achieving his goals, he was on their side. They never saw it that way. It didn't affect him in the least. He still fought for what was good. They said horrible things about him. Yet he never retaliated. Never spoke against them in anger. My uncle. He hated this vigilante just as much. Hated that he was teaching me just as much. I didn't realize it at the time but this vigilante was more of a hero than the others were. Not one of them, including my uncle, mourned for him. They never even mentioned his passing once. The one who killed him, he wasn't going to stop. I had to make him stop. The anger I felt. I wiped him out. With his goons. They didn't care how many lives were lost. That added so much fuel to my hatred of heroes. So much so. It blinded me. Making me no better. I became the malicious monster that my uncle said I was. The rage grew in me. He disowned me. So did my mother. When the rage grew, I only had one thought. One goal. I was unfortunately blinded by this. Not seeing the damage I've done after I executed my plan. All of my rage was released. I don't remember killing most of them. But I know I did. I truly love you and your siblings. Your father, I never stopped loving him. Yet my hatred was stronger. I gave into it. I know this is the consequence of my actions and I accept it. If you wish to get revenge, I won't fight back. Do as you please. I'm truly sorry. I know it doesn't mean anything to you since it's from me. But my apology is genuine. I am sorry. I don't expect forgiveness. But I thought you deserved an apology."

Dr. Two Brains sat stunned at Maddrix's explanation. He had no idea Matthew used to be a hero. None of them did. He didn't know how to react to his apology either. It was a little too late to say sorry. Yet on the other hand, Two Brains could tell he was being serious and genuine. Maddrix's explanation though, it opened up more questions for him as he reflected on his past before the massacre, analyzing Matthew's actions and comparing it to what he knows now. "Is that why you raised me to be a villain? So I wouldn't end up like the heroes you hated so much?" Two Brains asked. Matthew shook his head. "I had that hatred festering, but it wasn't the main reason I raised you to be a villain. I genuinely saw the natural spark and flare you had for villainy at an early age. When you acted sweet and innocent as a cover to get what you want or to get away with biting people that made you mad." Matthew paused a bit as he chuckled a little at the memories. "I honestly lost count of how many people you bit." Two Brains couldn't help but smirk at that. "It was the only way I could get back at those who made me upset. Neither you nor dad would let me gain access to tech until I was 13." Two Brains quipped. Matthew nodded with a bittersweet smile. "True. We were both slightly afraid what you mind would do if we gave you access to tools and tech before you were mature enough to use them." Matthew then frowned. "The true reason was I didn't want you to end up like me. I had a lot of anger and aggression issues when I was growing up. I don't exactly know where they came from. I just know that my uncle nor my mother never gave me the help I needed. My uncle saw me nothing more than a weapon that made him look good until I didn't. My mother was a spineless fool who went along with anything my uncle told her. I wanted to help channel your villainous impulses into something productive. I wanted to give you the helping guidance I never got. Even after you got me arrested. I was miffed yeah but I was never truly mad at you. I'm proud of the person you grown up into. Not because of the villain part. It's because you have a lot more control over your priorities and better restraints over your impulses than I ever did." "So that's why you told dad you were an orphan." Two Brains muttered as he processed what Matthew told him. Maddrix just shrugged. "Well your biological grandfather walked out when I was a toddler and the only true parental figure I had died when I was teenager. It was easier to say I was an orphan than to go into the nitty gritty." Dr. Two Brains leveled Matthew a hardened look. "You kept a lot of secrets from dad, including the part about you and me being villains. I remember you said it was best that no one else in our family knew the truth about our villain work. Even though they wouldn't be bothered about it, you still didn't want them to know. Why was that? Were you afraid of them getting hurt if they knew?" Dr. Two Brains interrogated. Matthew's expression became pale before he turned his gaze away Dr. Two Brains looked at the man with annoyance and confusion for not answering his question in a rude manner. A thought then struck his head. That evasive and somewhat rude reaction. He knew it all too well. "You were afraid dad would hate your for being a villain and kick you out like your mom and uncle did. That was why?" Two Brains muttered quietly. Maddrix didn't reply. He didn't have too. Dr. Two Brains could see clear as day the prickling tears the villain was trying to blink away. Two Brains gave a bitter chuckle. "I guess I did take more after you than I realized." Two Brains mumbled. Both he and Matthew never wanted their loved ones to see the true them, consumed by their fear of being hated and alone by those they cared the most. The difference here, while Two Brains found a better way to cope with his fears and learn to be more open to others, Matthew didn't. @dualnaturedscientist

[h0tchner]

Something More (Aaron Hotchner x Fem!Reader)

pairing: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

summary: Written as a request for the loml, Abby! (@heliotropehotch!) "Could I have a hotch x reader request thats got a love confession- maybe a hurt comfort scene where the reader is maybe torn up about something like self deprecation or some cop makes an off-handed compliment and he cups her cheeks and wipes the tears away? Pretty please 🥺"

word count: 3.2k

includes: love confessions! hurt/comfort, protective!hotch, mutual pining!!!, kissing, a little teaser of sexytimes, work tension, BAU!reader, crying and other emotions, rude af deputies, fluff soooo much fluff

rating: 18+ (cursing, crude nicknames, suggestive sexual mentions, and brief explicit sexual content at the very end)

a/n: HELLO BESTIES! I hope you love this one! If you want a smutty part two, let me know. PLS (!!!!!) interact if you liked this fic; rb, comment, like and/or send me a request if you have ideas for future fics! i love y’all! - rivka💞

some pals tags: @arsonhotchner @laurensprentiss @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie

“It’s time to give the profile,” Hotch announces.

Six words. One sentence. Zero hesitation.

“Go and gather everybody in the bullpen,” he directs Spencer, who nods and quietly exits the conference room to collect your team and the rest of the Sherrif’s department of this small, Wisconsin town.

You stand on the opposite side of the table from your boss, looking at him expectantly. Hotch meets your gaze. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he glares at you from beneath thick lashes. You wait for your instructions, but the instructions don’t come. Rather, you both stand there in a staring contest, unmoving.

You can’t help but feel bare under his scrutiny, but this feeling is nothing new. Every time Hotch looks at you, it feels as if every fibre of your being is on fire. It’s been this way since the very first day you started with the BAU, and, over time, the flame has only burned brighter.

You and Hotch have grown close over the two years you’ve been with the team: closer than he’s been with any of his other agents, even Rossi. It all started with one long night spent together in his office, sharing cold Chinese food, scribbling away at mountains of paperwork. It was then, sitting across the desk from him, laughing at his incredulous reaction when he dropped some Lo Mein on an After-Action Report, that you knew: you were in deep. From then on, your Chinese food office “dates” became a regular occurrence. And then, those regular occurrences transformed into other regular occurrences; to name a few: rides on the jet, side by side, sharing soft glances and tired smiles after hard cases… holding hands to comfort each other when emotionally vulnerable… and even bringing you your favourite coffee on mornings that you’ve needed an extra boost. All these little moments of kindness and care are what made you fall in love with him. You would cross the line from coworkers to more in a heartbeat if you knew for certain that he felt the same way about you. But you refuse to take a risk on losing what you currently have with Hotch for the chance at something more.

The way that Hotch looks at you now, tall and commanding, feels very much like something more… it’s incredibly intimate. He’s effectively stripped away all the layers of protection you’ve built up to do your job with one pointed glance. What you don’t know is that he too feeling the same way, and is toeing a line between being your boss, being your friend, and being your “something more.”

Hotch breathes out hard through his nose. You watch as he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he does. His jaw ticks. He shifts on his feet.

“I want you to sit this one out,” he says.

“Hotch?” You question, puzzled. Nothing about this day has prepared you for him to say that. You start racking your brain, trying to figure out why he would give you such a ridiculous order. Did you piss him off somehow? Did you play-flirt with Morgan too much in the car? Overlook an important lead? Did he not like the coffee you made him this morning?

Looking over at him, you swear he almost looks conflicted… but it doesn’t last.

“This is not up for debate. Do you understand me? You’re sitting this one out.” He repeats, steadfast.

“I don’t understand, what did I do wrong?” You ask more defensively this time, wishing he would give you more information. Something, anything besides the “SSA Aaron Hotchner” routine he was pulling on you now.

“I never said you did anything wrong.” Hotch moves forward a step, finally breaking eye contact, opting to gather files and loose papers into his arms.

“So, then what it is?” You cross your arms, stepping forwards as well, challenging him with your posture.

He doesn’t respond, nor does he look at you. Instead, he lumps more files into his arms before rounding the table, moving swiftly toward the door.

You have never, ever disobeyed one of his orders because his orders have always made sense… until now.

“Hotch,” you say sternly, your stubborn feet moving to stand between him and the exit before your logical brain can stop you.

He’s practically up against you, cornering you between his solid body and the old wooden door. His height dominates your shorter frame, and the heat coming off his body is positively criminal. Your heart flutters in your chest as he stares you down, calculating his next move.

“Out of my way, Agent Y/L/N.” He breathes out, tensing his jaw.

“Fine,” you stutter, “just tell me why and then I’ll let you go.” Your confidence wavers as you’re a little taken aback by his official use of your title and last name.

You’re hurt, confused… and he knows this. No matter how hard you’re putting on your tough-girl FBI face, Hotch can see right through it. He knows this order is unjustified, but he has his own reasons: reasons that he can’t get into. Not now.

Hotch lets his eyes dart to the side, past your head, not daring to look you in the eyes. He wills himself to be gentle.

“I can’t tell you, but I need you to trust me. Sit this one out.” He verbalizes, looking at you a little softer now. His face relaxes a little more into the Hotchner you’ve come to know: the one who calls his son every night to read a bedtime story, the one who grins every time you beat him in chess.

You two stand there a moment longer, your heart racing from the heat of the quarrel and your current proximity to your Unit Chief.

Hotch opens his mouth to say something else, but a knock on the door behind you stops him in his tracks. You step aside and he whips open the door; a very apologetic Spencer stands behind it.

“Sorry to interrupt,” Spencer says, clearing his throat awkwardly, “but everyone is ready in the bullpen.”

“Thank you,” Hotch nods, stepping forward to leave, but you grab a hold of his arm.

“Hotch,” you begin, not entirely sure what you want to say.

“Later,” he answers, finishing the unspoken thought.

With that, he’s out the door and you’re left alone with only stale coffee and a bunch of disorganized files to keep you company.

You close the door behind them with a sigh, letting yourself rest against it again, closing your eyes for a moment in defeat. Three days on this case. Three days of hard work, interviews, and research just to get benched in the end zone. You wish that you didn’t love Hotch, because maybe if you didn’t, it would be easier to disobey him. Opening your eyes again, you scan the quiet room. Then, something in front of you catches your eye and you get an idea.

On the table rests one of the precinct’s phones. It is all too easy to use the conference feature to listen in on one of the other phone lines: specifically, one in the bullpen.

You grin and rush over to the device, feeling a little bit sheepish for not listening to Hotch, but you push the buttons anyway, and bring the receiver up to your ear.

At first, all you hear is the shuffling of papers and muffled voices. You take a seat, leaning back in your chair like the cat who caught the canary. Several more moments pass of bureaucratic white noise, but then, someone speaks.

“Where’s the slutty one?” A male voice whispers.

“Oh, Agent Y/N? Probably on her knees somewhere waiting for her boss to come back.” A second male voice snickers back, matching the volume of the first.

You gasp, the phone slipping out of your hand, landing on the table with a loud thunk.

Scrambling, you grab it again, your other hand coming to rest over your open mouth.

“Don’t know why he wouldn’t let us use her as bait. This whole case could’ve been wrapped up and done by now if we just stuck her in a skimpy dress and shoved her out on the street.” One of them muses.

“Obviously because he’s sleeping with her.” The other mutters. “Agent Hotchner looked like he was going to take your head off when you asked him about it. Thought he was going to deck you for suggesting disguising her as a hooker to lure this guy out.”

“Yeah, he did. She looks like the victims, though. Bet she’s a whore like them too.”

“Deputies, we’re starting.” You hear a third voice pipe up. This time it’s one you recognize: it’s Hotch. “This is your final warning. I don’t want to hear another word out of you for the rest of the day. Not only is this wildly inappropriate, but it is insulting and vile. If I hear either of you speak about, look at, or interact with Agent Y/N, I will make sure you are both charged with harassment and fired from this department. Is that clear?”

With that, your eyes nearly pop out of your head. The deputies mumble something back, but you can’t hear over the sound of papers rustling.

Stunned, you set the phone back in its holder and force air into your lungs.

Waves of thoughts come crashing down on you. You have so many questions and so many answers and it’s all just… too much.

Suddenly, you know that you need to be anywhere but here.

You stand, shoving the chair aside and burst out of the conference room, fuming. You power-walk down the hall, and past the bullpen, focused on getting yourself outside and into the fresh air. Understandably, you don’t look up as you pass the profile briefing, so you don’t see Hotch’s brow furrow at the sight of you. You also don’t see him hand his papers to JJ, excuse himself, and race to follow you out the front door.

Once you’re outside in the parking lot, you look up at the cloudy, grey sky, and the tears start to fall. You feel guilty and angry; part of you wants to run away and cry, but the other part of you wants to walk straight up to those men and kick them straight in the dick. They not only called you vile names, but they also called the victims – those poor, dead women – the same. You sniffle, thinking about how Hotch stepped in and protected you, stood up for you.

Hotch… the thought of him makes you cry a little harder.

You start to pace around, kicking gravel as you went.

Were you that obvious? Was your crush so rampant that two low-level deputies in the middle of nowheresville picked up that easily on how you really felt about your boss?

“Fuck you two,” you curse under your breath to nobody as you choke back sobs. You kick a large piece of gravel as hard and as far as you can, but it doesn’t help.

“Are you okay?” A voice prods from behind you, gently, hesitantly, as if not to spook you. It’s a curt baritone, laced with concern. It’s Hotch.

“Hotch,” you breathe, turning to face him, furiously wiping tears away from your eyes.

“What happened?” He frowns, stepping closer to you, a comforting hand reaching forward to take yours.

Any other day you would grasp it contently, letting him console you. Today? All you can hear are the deputy’s comments. Sleeping with her. Whore. On her knees. You’re embarrassed and ashamed, so, you involuntarily step back.

“It’s nothing,” you put your hands up, looking down at your feet.

“Y/N,” Hotch says, his heart pounding in his chest.

You look back up, locking on his beautiful, angular face. You see every feature clouded in a haze of sorrow and concern.

You know you must swallow your pain and try to get it out. He wasn’t about to let you off easy.

“You… they… I…” you begin, but never finish your sentence. Instead, you start to cry again.

Wordlessly, Hotch moves to cup your face in his hands. They’re large and slightly calloused, encasing your cheeks as his thumbs gently swipe away the tears. His soft eyes search your watery ones; despite your better instinct, you bring your hands up to rest on his chest. You feel his breathing hitch. One of his hands moves from your face to cover your smaller hand against his chest. The two of you stay there, just like that, for another handful of heartbeats. You focus on his hands and how warm and safe they make you feel. Soon enough, you stop crying and gather the courage to speak.

“I heard them.” You whisper, not trusting yourself to say another word. You know that Hotch knows exactly who “them” is, and exactly what it is that you’ve heard.

His brow creases and his hand grips yours tighter. He cleans another tear off your cheek, and then lets that hand down to ball in a fist at his side.

“I’m going to kill them.” Hotch states, furious and heartbroken.

“Me first.” You sniffle.

Your boss sighs, giving you a heartfelt look. Leave it to you to make a joke at a time like this.

“I told them this morning that if I ever heard them say another thing about you, I was going to have their badges. I should’ve kicked them off this case hours ago.” He huffs, closing his eyes, letting his other hand, the one that was covering yours, drop down to his side.

You know this look all too well. You know he’s blaming himself.

“It’s not your fault,” you offer, smoothing your hands over his chest to settle on his upper arms. “Hotch, look at me.”

He doesn’t at first, but eventually, he opens his eyes. His hands open and close at his sides, as if he’s fighting them to be still.

“I’m sorry.” He breathes out. “For everything. For handling this how I did.”

“I’m not.” You chime in, feeling braver, calmer now that you’re here with him. Your comment earns a quizzical glance and a slight head tilt from Hotch, urging you to go on. “You stood up for me. You honoured me. You respected me. You protected me. You –“

With a fierce momentum, your next sentence is swallowed by Hotch’s lips pressing into yours. His hands come up to rest on your hips, and then circle around your waist to pull you closer. He’s warm and soft and intense; you whimper into the kiss, moving your hands to rest on the back of his neck and card in his hair. The kiss is over far too soon for your liking, both of you needing to pull back and inhale.

Hotch looks at you with heavy eyes, hands gripping your hips. He smells like coffee and pine, with a hint of something spicier. Everything about him is overwhelming yet grounding.

“Finally,” you whisper, hands clasped around his neck. “It’s about damn time.”

“It is,” is all he musters, still dazed by the audacity of his own actions.

“Aaron?” You lick your lips, feeling his hands squeeze you tight at your use of his first name.

“Yeah?” He can’t help but start to smile, showing off his adorable dimples and crinkled lines around his eyes.

“I love you; do you know that?” You say in earnest.

Aaron giggles, giggles at your confession, and then attacks your lips again, making you yelp at the surprise. His lips detach from yours only to pepper kisses on your tear-stained cheeks, jaw, and forehead.

“I love you too,” he breathes out, giddier than you’ve ever seen him. He looks like a kid in a candy shop, and it makes your heart leap into your throat.

Just then, a car beeps on the road, startling you two. You’re suddenly reminded where you are, and why you’re here. The thought of having to go back inside makes you groan, and you bury your head into his chest for a moment. He hums into your hair, planting a kiss on the top of your head.

Reluctantly, you pull yourself off his chest to look up at him.

“Forget about them,” you say, “go finish giving the profile so we can close this case and get the hell out of this town so you can take me home and show me how much you love me.” You smile at him, pulling him in for another, lighter kiss.

He grins against your lips, meeting you for another smooch.

“Yes ma’am,” Hotch replies, giving you a kiss on the tip of your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Three months later, you and Aaron are coming down from your highs, sweaty and blissed-out after an amazing lovemaking session. After the team wrapped up the case and made it back to Virginia in one piece, you and Hotch went out to dinner the next night. He took you to dine in at the Chinese restaurant that you both usually ordered from on those nights you both spent pining and yearning in his office. It was… perfect. He was perfect. Just as your friendship had blossomed, so did your relationship. One date led to another, one gesture turned into more, and you and Aaron settled into life as a couple with ease. You hadn’t brought up the incident with the deputies since it had happened the afternoon that Hotch had followed you out to the parking lot to wipe away your tears.

Now, as you lay in his arms, wrapped in his strong, loving, embrace, your mind wanders back to their words. However, you don’t feel animosity toward them, rather it makes you giggle.

“What’s so funny hot stuff?” Aaron cracks open an eye and smiles down at you. One arm is tucked underneath his head, and the other is tracing patterns on the bare skin of your shoulder.

“Oh, just that case we had in Wisconsin a few months back.” You nuzzle deeper into his chest with another laugh.

Hotch frowns, recalling the memory, thinking about the way those awful men spoke about you.

“How is that funny?” He asks, hesitantly.

“They called me a whore.” You say nonchalantly, peering innocently into his amber eyes. You bring your palm up to swipe across his cheek softly, feeling the light stubble of his jaw underneath your fingertips.

Both of his eyes are open now, and his hand motions cease their patterns on your skin. He’s confused, and the face he’s giving you is downright adorable. It makes you giggle again.

You detach yourself from his grasp and sit yourself up, carefully shimmying down the bed. Aaron’s eyes never leave you.

You nestle yourself between his legs and look up at him with a smirk.

“They were partially right.” You offer, studying the small changes in his face, watching as his eyes glaze over with lust for the second time that night.

“I am a whore.” You pout suggestively and flutter your eyelashes. “A whore for you, Hotch.”

He shakes his head at you in amusement and chuckles, but it quickly turns into a deep, throaty moan as you wrap your lips around the tip of him.

As you start to bob your head on his already hardening length, you think to yourself: as much as I hate to say it... someone should really give those two deputies a raise.

[rubysunnday]

reluctant caretaker

A/N: this is a very self indulgent fic, lol. it’s a comfort one for me right now

summary: having three younger siblings often meant Y/N was put in charge of looking after them. But sometimes her older siblings need some help too.

Aka, eight times Y/N did Anthony's job for him and one time he became her father

The trouble with having three younger siblings was that Y/N often got waylaid with looking after them and keeping them occupied. She didn't mind it - it was actually quite enjoyable to watch Hyacinth attack Gregory and to help Francesca with her pianoforte.

But sometimes, Y/N found herself becoming an older sibling to her own older siblings. When the weight of their responsibilities became too much, Y/N was there, like a rock that survives countless storms.

Hyacinth

Hyacinth and Y/N were two of the closest Bridgerton siblings in the entire household. They'd been close ever since Hyacinth's birth - the two becoming thick as thieves despite the years between them.

Hyacinth's beautiful, angelic face often helped Y/N escape the wrath of Anthony whenever Y/N snuck out the house and Y/N returned the favour by helping Hyacinth hide from the siblings she upset and by supporting her chaos.

It was a quiet day in the library and Y/N was minding her own business, organising the books and cleaning the room in general. The library had become a special place for her - her safety room,

“Y/N, hide me!” Hyacinth squeaked, skidding around the corner and running directly into Y/N’s legs.

“Wait, what?” Y/N asked, frowning, stumbling at the force of her little sister running into her. She grabbed

“Just, help me!” Hyacinth repeated, her eyes pleading.

“Hyacinth!” Anthony bellowed, his voice bouncing off the walls. Y/N could hear him marching up the stairs towards the library.

Y/N’s head shot up at the bellow and looked down at her little sister with wide eyes. “What did you do?”

“Please, I’ll tell you afterwards,” Hyacinth said, begging.

Y/N sighed and looked around for somewhere to hide Hyacinth. The library was big and didn’t have any decent hiding places. Y/N lifted her long dress up. 

“I swear, Hyacinth, you owe me,” she replied as Hyacinth crawled under the fabric, pulling it over her body. Y/N arranged her layers of skirt over her little sister and then pulled her shawl around too.

“Hyacinth!” Anthony bellowed again as he stormed into the room. He spotted Y/N organising the books and turned to her.  “Y/N, have you seen Hyacinth?”

Y/N shook her head and shrugged. “No, I have not. Sorry, brother.”

Anthony growled. “If you do, send her to me.”

“Why, what has she done?” Y/N asked innocently.

“She put a frog in my desk drawer,” Anthony snapped. “It’s hopping around the house, Colin is trying to catch it.”

Y/N tried not laugh, pressing her lips together. “Oh. Of course, if I see her, I shall send her to you.”

Anthony stormed off, out of the library. Y/N lifted her skirt up and narrowed her eyes down at Hyacinth.

“A frog, seriously?” She asked as Hyacinth crawled out.

“He took my book away,” Hyacinth replied, looking like an innocent angel.

Y/N rolled her eyes and shoved Hyacinth towards the door. “Shoo, I do not want to get in trouble with Anthony.”

Hyacinth rang off and Y/N resumed looking for her book. 

“Hyacinth!”

Y/N burst out laughing as she heard Anthony bellow at Hyacinth, his yell quickly followed by Hyacinth’s shriek and the sound of someone charging down the stairs. Y/N shook her head and smiled, laughing as she heard more yelling and shrieking from her sister.

Gregory

Y/N walked past Gregory’s room and glanced in as she passed. She paused and walked back, taking a look at Gregory and noticing him crying.

Y/N knocked on his door. “Gregory, what’s wrong?”

Gregory sniffed, wiping his eyes as he looked up at his big sister. “My mouse died,” he said softly, hiccuping.

Y/N’s eyes softened and she walked into her brother’s room, crouching down on the floor next to him and putting an arm around his shoulders.

“Oh, Greg, I am sorry, darling,” Y/N said, stroking his hair.

Gregory had found the mouse lurking in the kitchens one night and - despite the rest of the family telling him to get rid of it - Gregory had kept it, named it and given it a home.

And it had stayed in Gregory’s room for the past three months. Y/N had grown accustomed to checking in on the mouse whenever she went into her brother’s room and knew how closed he’d gotten to the rodent.

“Colin took him away,” Gregory whispered, more tears leaking out his eyes. “And I do not want to leave him but mother is insisting on everyone going to the party -”

“Hey, Gregory, calm down,” Y/N said gently. “We do not have to do anything with your mouse until you are ready. And I will stay by your side this entire party, alright?”

Gregory nodded and gave her a watery smile. “Thank you, sister.”

Y/N pressed a kiss to his head. “Always.” 

The floorboard outside Gregory’s room creaked and Y/N turned and looked to see who it was. Anthony stood outside the door, dressed in his waistcoat with his shirtsleeves rolled up, and gave her a smile, mouthing a thank you to Y/N. 

Y/N nodded and gave him a returning smile.

Francesca

Y/N eyed Colin. “Brother, that waistcoat is beginning to look a little snug.”

Colin let out a gasp and turned to face her. “How dare you!” He said, hand flying to his chest. “I was not going to say anything but your dresses are beginning to look a bit tight.”

Y/N gasped and whacked Colin’s arm, dodging the shove he aimed at her. “Colin!”

The front door slammed shut and Y/N looked up as Francesca stormed towards them.

“Hey, Franny,” Y/N greeted, smiling.

Francesca didn’t acknowledge her. She shoved past her and Colin and Y/N got a glimpse at her tear stained face as she ran past.

“Francesca!” Colin called, brow furrowing in concern at how upset his sister was.

“Leave me alone!” Francesca yelled, running up the stairs. A few moments later, her door slammed shut.

“Oh, I will go,” Y/N muttered, heading up the stairs after her sister. “Maybe run around the block and work off the bacon you ate at lunch.”

Colin gasped and let out a stuttered mess of insulted sounds as Y/N laughed and walked up the stairs.

Francesca had shut the door behind her but didn’t lock the door. Y/N knocked gently on the door but when she didn’t hear her sister reply, she opened the door and walked inside.

Francesca had dramatically flung herself face down on her bed and was quietly sobbing, her shoulders shaking.

“Oh, Franny,” Y/N said quietly, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to her sister and putting a hand on her back, rubbing it gently. 

Y/N had no idea what was wrong or what had happened to upset Francesca so much, but she didn’t need to know the specifics. Her sister was upset and needed her big sister on her side.

“Anthony is horrible,” Francesca sobbed. “He said such horrible things about the Earl of Kilmartin and he knows I like him, Y/N/N, he knows.”

Y/N sighed, stroking Francesca’s hair, twirling it around her finger. “Anthony is... well he is Anthony. He is very protective of us, Franny - he had to become a parental figure to all of us when he was barely an adult. I do not blame him for having his reservations about the Earl but know that anything Anthony says is... the majority of the time out of love.”

Francesca rolled over onto her side and looked up at her sister with teary eyes. “Can you talk to him?”

Y/N smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind Francesca’s ear. “Of course I can, my love. I shall tell him how ridiculous he is being and that you do not want to hear another word out of him until he can say something nice.”

Francesca giggled and sat up, hugging her sister tightly. “Thank you, sister. Truly.”

Y/N returned the hug. “Anything for you, Francesca.”

Eloise

Y/N concentrated on walking down the stairs, holding the hem of her dress up so that she didn’t trip over. She still wasn’t use to heels.

“You look like a newborn foal, Y/N,” Benedict called, eyeing her with a laugh as she gripped the bannister tightly.

“I detest these heels,” she muttered, taking Benedict’s offered hand and letting him guide her down the rest of the stairs.

“Do not let Eloise hear you say that, she will go off on a rant,” Benedict teased. 

It was if mentioning her twin sister’s name summoned her. Eloise suddenly burst out of Anthony’s office in a flurry of expensive silks and tears and ran past Y/N and Benedict. Both siblings stared after her, wincing when the door slammed loudly, shaking the walls.

“What is it with my siblings and running past me in tears?” Y/N asked, despairing. “This is the third time in as many weeks! What did you say, Anthony?” Y/N asked, turning to face her eldest brother with a hefty sigh.

“I merely mentioned her debut again and she got upset,” Anthony replied, shaking his head. “I shall talk to her.”

“No, do not even think about it,” Y/N said, halting Anthony by stepping in front of him. “You will make it worse. I shall go.”

“Wait, Y/N, I’ll come too,” Benedict called.

Y/N paused on the stairs and raised her eyebrows at him. She snorted. “Oh, this will be entertaining.”

Benedict gave her a confused look but shrugged, following after Y/N as she walked up the stairs and to Eloise’s room. Every time Eloise’s debut was brought up, she was bound to get upset or angry. It was the one subject that made her loose her judgement and her cool exterior.

Benedict knocked twice on Eloise’s door. “Eloise?”

“Go away, Benedict!” Eloise yelled and something hit the door with a hefty thud/

Benedict looked vaguely offended and took a step back from the door with a frown.

Y/N smiled to herself and chuckled. “That is exactly what I thought would happen,” she said, crossing her arms and looking up at her brother. “She thinks you’re going to gang up on her.”

“But I’m not going to.”

“Yes, but try telling that to an emotional teenager who’s big brother has upset her,” Y/N replied. “Go downstairs, I will be ten minutes.”

Benedict grumbled but trudged off down the corridor. Y/N waited for him to disappear and then gently knocked on Eloise’s bedroom door.

“El, it’s me,” Y/N called.

There was silence and then the door was unlocked and Eloise appeared, her eyes red. 

“How do you do it?” Eloise asked, sniffing.

Y/N frowned. “Do what?”

“Be perfect. Be the perfect daughter and sister all the time,” Eloise elaborated. “I cannot do it and it is so difficult to pretend.”

Y/N smiled at her. “I have been practicing for years, darling Eloise. It is all an act. I am not perfect and certainly not perfect all the time. I am merely perfect enough that mother and Anthony forget about my flaws.”

“How did you get through your debut?” Eloise asked and Y/N could see the genuine fear in her eyes. “How do you cope with all those people looking and watching.”

“For my debut, I relied on Colin,” Y/N replied honestly. “He never left my side unless I was absolutely certain I could manage on my own. Unlike Anthony, there was no judgement or constant interrogation of the suitors. He just listened to me. And after a while, the constant watching and looking does not bother you. It becomes background noise.”

Eloise dropped her head onto the edge of her door and closed her eyes. “I have hardly even begun and I am already exhausted.”

“I know.”

Y/N reached out her hand and grabbed her twin sister’s. Eloise squeezed her hand in return and gave her a tired smile. 

“But I will be with you every step of the way, sister,” Y/N promised.

Daphne

Daphne and Y/N had never been particularly close. They were complete opposites growing up - much like Eloise and Daphne were now - and were constantly arguing with one another. But ultimately, they did love each other.

As Y/N grew up, she looked to Daphne for help and guidance and her sister had provide it. But Y/N could tell that her sister was struggling. With her new life as a duchess, as a mother and as a wife.

“Daphne.”

“Yes, Y/N?”

The two were enjoying afternoon tea in the sprawling garden of Hastings House, watching the swans in the lake nearby.

“Are you alright?”

Daphne set her tea down and looked at Y/N. Y/N reached out a hand across the table and gripped Daphne’s, rubbing her thumb over the back of it and giving her a smile.

And that was all it took for Daphne to break down crying at the little table they sat at.

Y/N moved her chair to sit next to her sister and put her arms around her, comforting her as she cried. She didn’t have a clear idea of what Daphne was going through - being a mother was hard in its own right. But Daphne was also running an estate, being a duchess and also trying to navigate high society.

“You know, I am not a mother - or a duchess, for that fact - but what I do know is that I do not know anyone who is stronger than you, Daph. Mother does not count,” Y/N added quickly, noticing Daphne lifting her head up to object.

Daphne gave her sister a watery, emotion filled smile and sat up, taking a deep breath in. “Thank you, sister.”

Y/N smiled, picking her cup of tea up again. “You are welcome. Now, do we have anymore of those biscuits?”

Colin

Y/N was having deja vu. 

What was it with her siblings and locking themselves in their rooms whilst crying? 

“Someone should go talk to Colin,” Anthony said quietly, setting his newspaper down.

There was an obvious empty space at the breakfast table in between Benedict and Y/N where Colin usually sat. Ever since the Marina incident, Colin had hardly spoken or come out of his room. Wisely, no one had said anything about it. Violet was engrossed in Lady Whistledown, Hyacinth and Gregory were, for once, behaving themselves, and Eloise was quietly cutting her pear up into thin silces.

“He won’t listen to me,” Benedict replied quickly, taking a bite of his toast.

“I am the last person he will want to speak to,” Anthony added, sighing.

The two older brothers both turned to look at Y/N.

Y/N, who was mid bite of her apple, turned to look at them. “What?”

“Well, you are good with crying siblings,” Anthony began.

“Only because you are normally the one who has upset them,” Y/N countered, turning back to her breakfast, 

Anthony raised his eyebrows. “Y/N.”

“Oh, fine,” Y/N grumbled, shoving her chair back loudly. “I should really be getting paid for this, honestly.”

Colin’s room was next door to Y/N’s. She paused outside it and sighed. 

“This is deja vu,” Y/ muttered, raising a hand, knocking hard on the door. “Colin?”

Colin didn’t reply. Y/N dropped her head on the door and sighed. She grabbed the handle and twisted it, hoping it was open. It swung open with a creak and Y/N poked her head around the wood.

Colin was lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling with red eyes. He lifted his head and looked at her.

“Hi,” Y/N said quietly, closing the door behind herself and walking further into the room. “You left me on my own at breakfast.”

“Sorry,” Colin muttered.

Y/N walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, nudging Colin to move further over to let her lie down next to him. Colin shuffled over and Y/N laid down next to him, not caring that she was crinkling her dress or ruining her hair.

Colin didn’t talk. Y/N wasn’t expecting him to. But she also wasn’t expecting him to lift his arm up and wrap it around her shoulders, pulling her into his side. Y/N let out a surprised noise but returned the hug, wrapping her arms around his side as best she could.

“Just so you know, they all practically drew straws as to who would come and talk to you,” Y/N said, her voice muffled by Colin’s waistcoat.

“Well, you are an expert now,” Colin replied, his voice a little croaky. “Four siblings now?”

“Do not even get me started, Colin,” Y/N replied, laughing softly. “When I eventually have an emotional break and lock myself in my room, you all better take it in bloody turns.”

Colin laughed, hitting her shoulder as she swore. His laughter faded and he tightened his arms around her but Y/N didn’t mind. It was often the two of them had a moment just them with no one watching or staring.

“Listen, if you come to breakfast I will not throw my orange peel at you,” Y/N said, lifting her head up. “I will happily give you the bits of my bacon that I do not like.”

“Will you give me your extra sausage?” Colin asked.

“I will give you all of my bacon if you give me a sausage,” Y/N countered.

Colin unwrapped his arm from around Y/N’s shoulders and held his hand out to her. “The deal is the deal.”

Y/N snorted. “You did not just quote my favourite book at me,” Y/N said, widening her eyes. 

Colin shrugged but his eyes were twinkling for the first time in a few days. Y/N giggled and dropped her head on to a pillow.

“I hate you,” Y/N groaned.

“No you do not,” Colin replied, all but shoving Y/N off his bed. “Now, you have promised me your bacon.”

Benedict

Y/N looked up as another ball of paper whizzed past her head, missing the bin and landing behind it. The bin was beginning to disappear underneath the numerous scrunched up balls of paper. Y/N wisely didn’t say anything, turning back to her book.

Benedict growled, ripping another piece of paper out his sketchbook and launched it at the bin. It missed the bin entirely and smacked Y/N in the head, landing in her lap.

“Sorry,” Benedict called.

Y/N raised her eyebrows at him but said nothing. She picked up the ball of paper and opened it, smoothing it out against the front of her book. “What’s wrong with this?”

Benedict looked up. “The shading is all wrong, the body looks weird...” Benedict sighed and ripped another piece of paper out. He threw it at the bin but it hit Y/N again.

“Alright, do I need to move or are you going to stop hitting me with balls of paper?” Y/N asked, closing her book and raising her eyebrows. “I can move the bin closer.”

“Sorry,” Benedict sighed, closing his eyes and dropping his head back.

Y/N looked at her brother. She unfolded her legs and stood up, walking up to him. She took the sketchbook from his hands and flipped through it.

“What is wrong with these?” Y/N asked, frowning as she perched herself on the arm of the chair her brother was sat in, leaning on his shoulder. 

“They do not look... right.”

Y/N raised her eyebrows. “Why?”

“The angle is weird -”

“Then move the object or move yourself,” Y/N said simply. 

“It isn’t just that,” Benedict said. “Every drawing I do I find myself comparing it to other works of art.”

“But they’re not your style,” Y/N replied. “You cannot compare a Van Gogh to a Holbein because they are completely different styles. You just have to find your own style, Benedict.”

“When did you get so wise?” Benedict asked, looking up at her with genuine admiration and curiosity. 

“Oh, I think it is due to the constant pep talks I have to keep giving my siblings,” Y/N said, smiling, pretending to ruffle her imaginary feathers.

Benedict smiled. He nodded to the chair opposite him. “Go sit over there.”

“Why?”

“Just sit over there,” Benedict insisted, shoving her off the arm of the chair.

Y/N sat down on the chair and frowned at him. “Are you going to draw me?!”

“Well, you said move the object.”

“Wait, you were drawing me?!” Y/N exclaimed.

“Hush, you,” Benedict called, pressing a finger to his lips. “I am concentrating.”

Y/N giggled but didn’t move, just smoothed her skirt out and picked up her book again.

Anthony

“Y/N!”

Y/N looked up with a frown, trying to work out if she had heard her name or not. Deciding she hadn’t, Y/N returned to the pianoforte, plonking the keys with no real intention. 

“Y/N!”

Anthony stormed into the room and came to a sudden halt as he spotted Y/N sat at the pianoforte. “Y/N, did you not hear me yelling?”

Y/N frowned and looked up. “Did you yell for me?” She asked.

“Yes!” Anthony exclaimed, throwing his hands up. “How did you not hear me?” Y/N looked pointedly at the pianoforte. “Yes, alright, point made, now come with me.”

Anthony turned on his heel and marched off. Y/N quickly stood up, almost tripping over the leg of the stool as she ran after her brother.

“Anthony, slow down a moment!” Y/N called, barely keeping up with her older brother’s long legs. “Anthony!”

Y/N ran down the stairs, somehow skipping the last three, and following Anthony into his office. He stopped suddenly in the doorway and turned to face Y/N.

Y/N, who hadn’t lost the momentum she’d gained running down the stairs, ran full pelt into her brother’s chest and squeaked as she lost her balance.

“Carefully!” Anthony exclaimed, grabbing her arms and holding her up.

“You are the one who stopped!” Y/N yelled back. “What on earth is the matter?” 

Anthony sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Sorry, there is just an awful lot happening, I did not mean to panic you.”

“Anthony, just take a minute to breathe,” Y/N said. “What do you need me for?”

“We have been invited to the Queen’s garden party, and I wanted to know if you were interested in coming,” Anthony said, turning and walking up to his desk. He pulled out the invite from amongst the rest of his paperwork and handed it to her.

Y/N ran her eyes over it and shrugged with a nod. “Yes, I suppose.”

Anthony nodded but Y/N could see that he wasn’t paying her any attention. Y/N sat down in front of his desk.

“Anthony, what is wrong?” Y/N asked softly, nudging his foot with hers when he didn’t reply. “Anthony?”

“There is just a lot going on with the estates, the land, your debut, Eloise’s debut, Benedict and Colin.” Anthony sighed and dropped his head. “I do not know how father managed it all.”

“Well, in all fairness, Anthony, our father was raised and taught how to do it. He had years of practice you were not even out of Eaton when you had to take over,” Y/N replied, folding her hands into her lap. “All of this stress is understandable, brother.”

Anthony looked at his sister with a wistful gaze. “When did you get to be so wise?”

“That is exactly what Benedict said the other day,” Y/N replied, smiling. “And all I did was tell him to stop throwing paper at me.”

Anthony chuckled. He stepped around his desk and came over to Y/N, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Oh, what would we do without you, Y/N?”

“Well, I would imagine that the house would be on fire by now and Eloise would have ran off to anywhere else in the country,” Y/N replied, smirking.

Anthony shoved her gently and Y/N giggled, resting her head on his arm. 

Y/N

Her hands were shaking. She could feel the panic overwhelming her like a tidal wave and her stays felt suffocating even though Y/N knew they weren’t tight.

All she had to do was get through tonight and then everything, should be, fine. All she had to do was get through her first ball and then everything would get better. 

Y/N felt her eyes begin to sting and her throat close and took a shaky deep breath in as she looked at herself in the mirror. She looked like herself but also didn’t look like herself. An imitation of herself looked back at her.

She had never been this nervous before. It was unusual for her to be this panicked and scared before a big event. Y/N let out a little sob and sank down into her chair, burying her face in her hands to try and control her emotion.

Someone knocked on her door and Y/N quickly tried to make herself look presentable and not like she’d been crying. 

“Y/N, come on,” Anthony called, walking in, the floorboards creaking under his feet, “we are all waiting.”

“I will be down in a second,” Y/N called, frantically trying to touch up her make up. 

Anthony walked around the corner and stopped. He knew Y/N and could see when she was putting a mask on and pretending. He could see her red eyes, her shaking hands, and instantly knew something was wrong.

“Y/N, what is wrong?” Anthony asked softly, slowly approaching her.

Y/N turned and looked at her brother over her shoulder. He gave her a soft, comforting smile, and she instantly broke down, her shoulders shaking and her hands hiding her face.

Anthony rushed over and knelt down in front of her, wrapping his arms around her and bringing her into his chest as she sobbed. 

“Alright, calm down, you’re ok,” Anthony whispered, rubbing circles on her back.

“I don’t think I can do this, Anthony,” Y/N sobbed, clinging onto him tightly. “I don’t know if I can be perfect like Daphne was.”

“You do not have to be perfect,” Anthony said, taking her face between his hands and making her look at him. “You just have to be you. And we will be with you every step of the way.”

Y/N nodded and sighed tiredly. She took a deep breath in and straightened up as Anthony wiped the tears from her cheeks.

“Ready?” Anthony asked, standing up and offering her a hand.

“As I will ever be,” Y/N replied with a smile, taking his hand.