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so-boredtoday · 1 year ago

Text

Medical appointment

Trafalgar D. Law x fem!reader

Summary: After dealing with menstrual pain for the last few months, you decide to make an appointment with your captain for a check-up.

Word count: 4K almost 5k

Rated: M / NSFW

Tags/warnings: Medical Kink, Doctor/Patient, Dubious consent in the beginning, Sexual health, Fingering, over stimulation, slightly use of pet names, She/Her pronouns, No beta reader we die as cowards, this is not good don’t let the tags fool you.

Author notes: I was thinking about it since forever so here it is ✨ I changed the quotes to hyphens this time and I don't know if it's the best idea but I hope you can understand it. Let me know if it's horrible hahaha… And remember to go to the doctor for a check up at least once a year even if it is not as attractive as Law

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You had been to the medical wing a couple of times, it had always been simple things like checking some minor battle wounds or for the annual exams, however this was your first time for consultation. Law was sitting at the desk with his white coat on, there were a couple of things that didn't belong to the medical wing: Some half-opened maps, a notepad and a den den mushi, he had brought all those things to keep up with his work while he waited for your arrival for the medical appointment.

– Hello Captain – You said smiling as you approached – I hope I won't take up too much of your time –

He looked at you while shaking his head – That's what I'm here for, I'm the ship's doctor, don't worry about that – His hand went across the desk to point to the chair – Come on, sit down – He continued – How can I help you – He said kindly but without changing his characteristic serious countenance

– I was talking to Ikkaku about my menstrual period... – It wasn't a topic that would embarrass you at all but it was a bit strange to talk about it with Law – I have pain every month and I thought it was something normal you know? But apparently it's not and I wanted to see if you can help me with that –

– You are right, it is not normal however I need more info to be able to determine the cause and give you a treatment – He said while taking notes without looking at you – Does it occur every day of the period? –

– Most of the time yes, however it is stronger on the second and third day – You answered.

– On a scale of 1 to 10, how would you rate your pain? – He asked looking at you without taking his hand off the paper.

– On a good day... a 6 and on a bad one an 8 – I said grimacing – It's hard to stand up and I feel dizzy, I usually put on some heat and take an analgesic to continue with my tasks – You answered

– It's not very good to self-medicate... – He continued writing without looking at you – That's what I'm here for – He continued as he got up and walked towards the stretcher – Please lie down – You walked, got on the stretcher and looked up at the ceiling.

– I'm going to pull up your blouse to locate the pain zone, are you okay with that? – He said approaching the edge of the gurney.

– Sure – You said without taking your eyes off the ceiling.

– Do you have a regular cycle? – He said as he began to press on your lower stomach.

– Not really... I have spurts of months where it only varies for a couple of days and others where it skipped by almost a month – You answered while his fingers run across your lower belly it was a pleasant feeling – I'd say it's right there – his movements stopped.

– Okay... You can get up – He walked to the desk again – When do you think your period will start? – he asked

– I think in about a week if it's not delayed – you told him as you sat down on the stretcher.

– I need you to record some data for me: The start date, number of days, symptoms such as nausea, night sweats, fatigue but mostly pain and its intensity – He said while opening one of the side drawers to take some gloves – Active sex life?

You blushed a little – Not as active as I would like but yes – You replied automatically regretting your words right after you said them, he gave a small amused laugh in response.

– I'm going to do a little exploration – He said approaching, you looked at him a little alarmed – It may be a little uncomfortable, but it shouldn't be too painful... There are gowns in the first drawer of the bureau. I'll prepare the stretcher you can change behind the screen – He pulled one of the stretcher’s levers as you walked to the bureau and took out the gown.

You started to take off your clothes unsure, this definitely had not been your best idea. It was necessary but you weren't ready for Law to check you. You took a breath as you pulled down your underwear and folded it along with your other clothes, put on the medical gown and walked out.

Law was finishing placing the equipment as you walked to the stretcher – You can go seat now, place your legs on the supports... – He said as he took the chair to sit right in front of the stretcher – This test is called cervical cytology – He said as he put on his gloves without looking at you.

Your legs were open in front of him, again you fixed your gaze to the ceiling without saying a word – For the moment it will only be manual since I don't have the necessary equipment but this way we can check things like the position of your uterus, sensitivity or pain... are you ready? – He ask

– Not really – You said, he didn't say anything but looked at you raising his eyebrows. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath - Okay... I'm ready -

The wheels of his chair rattled against the floor as he approached – I'm going to touch – He began to move his hands across your crotch – I'm going to examine the outside.... Normally this is not painful but please let me know if you have any discomfort – His hands ran over your labia majora slowly, after a few seconds he started to move to the minors, you were breathing slowly trying to imagine anything to distract you until his fingers touched your clit. You opened your eyes and moved backwards with the help of your arms making his hand move away from you - Pain? - He said in a totally professional neutral tone.

– No... it's not painful…it was just a reflex... sorry – You said embarrassed.

– No problem, try to relax and we will finish faster – He said kindly, you went back to take the initial position while breathing – I'm going to touch again. Try not to move – His fingers went back to your clit. He ran it in up and down movements and then a couple of circular movements – It seems that everything is fine – He said while he went down a little towards your entrance that was now a little wet and then give a couple of more circles on your clit, your heart was beating fast inside your chest while you felt how his long fingers rubbed your most sensitive spot.

You closed your eyes and tried to stifle any sound that might come out of your mouth, none of this seemed abnormal to him so you calmed yourself everything is fine. He returned to your entrance and moistened his fingertips to give you a couple of more strokes on your clit, you gasped quietly and then he moved his hands away and turned on the chair to take a bottle from the side table – The flow seems normal for this stage of your cycle – he said as you heard the sound of the liquid coming out of the bottle – I will check the inside now… I’m going to press on your pelvis at the same time... if it needs more lubricant feel free to tell me – he continued – If there is any kind of pain please let me know.

– Okay… – You answered as you took a breath, a warm familiar feeling was forming in your lower belly and you began to feel embarrassed to feel that way.

Law is just doing his job You thought I just have to breathe and it will pass soon

It was then when his fingers brushed your entrance, you swallow nervously trying to stay calm. His left hand rolled your pelvis, his fingers entered without difficulty thanks to his lubricant (and your own wetness).

– Very good – He said suddenly – I'm going to press ok? – you felt how the fingers of his right hand began to digit inside you while the left one pressed on your pelvis – I may have to go in and out a couple of times but it's normal – After a few times of pressing inside he pulled his fingers out and went back in in a slow movement and repeated a couple of times more, an involuntary moan came out of your lips when he brushed a sensitive area inside – Is it painful?... I'm going to press again and let me know the intensity – before you could answer he curled his fingers inside you again pressing that sensitive spot and you let out a needy sigh.

– Law... it's not pain... – You said while breathing heavily.

That he knew perfectly well he had been looking for your sweet spot for a while, he smiled to himself as he saw how your body reacted to his touch. Then suddenly the pressure on your pelvis disappeared, without another word he withdrew his fingers and turned the chair around to grab a towel.

– Everything seems to be excellent – He said in a casual tone ignoring how your chest was rising and falling rapidly – I'm going to clean you so you can change – He passed a paper towel over the area in circular movements with special attention on the upper part – We are done now... I think we have all the drugs available… I'll get them while you change, I'll be back in a second – He said getting up.

You lowered your legs from the supports with difficulty and sat; your cheeks were red and your vision blurred. Clearly it was all part of the examination but your body did not agree with the lack of contact and longed for release. You walked over to the screens to put on your clothes trying to ignore the forming wetness between your legs then you sat in the chair in front of the desk while looking at the stretcher and unconsciously squeezed your thighs together, you let out a frustrated gasp as you waited.

He had entered the medical storage closet, a small room inside the medical wing that was normally kept locked; you looked at the maps to distract yourself from the warm feeling that was tenting your cunt. You slightly heard the tinkling of the glass through the closed door while he was looking for the medicines, a few minutes passed and you heard a little frustrated sigh from Law; maybe we didn't have the drugs after all but after about 5 minutes the door opened. Law entered the office again with a frown on his face with a small metal box in his right hand, but something was missing... his white coat was gone and he was just in his usual attire.

– We have two options... – He said taking a seat while running his hand across his forehead – The first one is simple but has some side effects that could be quite strong and annoying – He continued looking at you – It consists of a hormonal treatment, specifically with contraceptive mechanisms there are several options we can review for you – He turned back to his notes – It would be the simplest way out however we also have option number two – He continued and looked at you again.

–We can try with supplements, changes in your diet and rest cycles, besides reducing stress there are some.... exercises that I would like you to try – His look darkened a little on the last sentence – We will give you a 3 month trial period and if that doesn't work we go back to option one, what do you think? –

You blinked a couple of times processing the information – I like the sound of the second one… I don't really lose anything by trying – You pondered

– Very good – He smiled slightly – Let's create a basic regimen – He opened the box and took out a couple of amber glass bottles – The supplements consist of vitamin b and magnesium that will help you with muscle compression during your period.... – He slid them slowly to your side of the table as he wrote on a new note – One pill of each a day and also recommend that you replace coffee with tea especially chamomile or ginger tea and avoid red meat – You took the bottles and watched him write down when he finished he looked up at you – There is something else... – You looked back at him carefully – I need you to touch yourself – You opened your eyes in surprise and looked at him in confusion.

– I beg your pardon captain? – You said while blushing

– At least once or twice a week… you will see… there are some studies on the effectiveness of masturbation as an agent in controlling the intensity and frequency of menstrual pain – His tone was still serious there was no trace of joking in it – If that doesn't work then we will evaluate hormonal treatment – In one motion he tore off the clinical sheet and handed it to you – Do you have any questions? –

– Is there... is there a problem if I don't... if I don't do the exercises – You asked embarrassed – I share a room with Ikkaku and there is not much time when I am alone – Besides you didn't want to talk about it in the future.

– You can do it here – He said lifting his shoulders – No one will bother you here… Just make sure you close the door and keep the area clean – You looked at him in shock. He was treating it as if it was something usual like putting a bandage or a blood pressure measurement – But…– He looked at you with understanding – If you find it uncomfortable you can skip it, however as a medical professional I suggest you consider it –

You looked away from the medical note – I... will think about it... thank you very much Captain – you said getting up from your seat.

– No problem – He said – Don't forget to monitor your period. I will schedule you for a check-up in two weeks to evaluate the effectiveness of the treatment

– Sure... I won't forget – You told him as you quickly left the room. Law let out a sigh as soon as the door closed, normally he wasn't this kind of person, the medical profession was sacred to him; he had promised his father that he would be a good doctor when he was a kid but it was hard to stay professional when it came to you.

When he scheduled you a medical appointment he never imagined he would end up with his fingers inside your pussy, just remembering it made his pants tighten again.

It had been hard to stop touching you when he could hear the little sighs coming out of your mouth or seeing how your body reacted to his touch and it had been even harder to keep quiet inside the medicine cabinet as he cummed in his hand imagining how he would take you on the gurney, hell he had even had to clean up the mess with his medical coat.

In spite of everything the suggested treatment was not a lie… you needed to relax and a couple of orgasms could help you a lot. He knew perfectly well that you hadn't slept with anyone for months and part of it was his fault; he had scared off most of the people who had any intentions with you and those who had escaped him weren't exactly your type, God knows you were a difficult one and you didn't hesitate to kick the ass of anyone who insisted too much. He gave a frustrated grunt and forced himself to get on with his work.

Three days passed since your consultation and things were not going as you expected and that had nothing to do with the supplements or the lack of meatballs in the food. It was rather the fact that it was the second night you had woken up in the middle of the night thanks to a dream in which Law's long fingers were sliding over your clit and his mouth over yours kissing you tightly. The first time you woke up so agitated that Ikkaku thought you were going to die, you looked at her embarrassed and lied to her telling her it had been a nightmare and the second time you had woken up suddenly drenched in sweat around 4 am and couldn't fall asleep again.

You definitely had to do something about it or you would end up totally tired in the middle of the day. You had joined the heart pirates about a year ago, since then your only make out had been behind a bar after drinking a lot and it had ended in a not so satisfactory way; you thought that being a pirate would bring you more opportunities with men however there were not many who were interested in you and clearly you had no intention of repeating that experience so you avoided drunks no matter how attractive they were. It seemed pathetic but after a while you began to accept it, there hadn't been any problems so far.

Sure sometimes you felt horny, especially when you ovulated, however it was something you had coped with calmly but now you couldn't stop thinking about it and the situation got worse when the object of your desire was your captain. The metal floor felt cold on your bare feet as you walked to the medical bay, it was 2 am so you were sure you would be alone; you opened the door cautiously and walked in making sure to close the door.

– It's late... – A voice sounded in the darkness, you shivered even with your hands on the door lock.

– Ca... captain I didn't know you were here – Your gaze wandered to the desk to find him sitting there illuminated only by the dim flickering light of the outside light. What was he doing in the middle of the night with the light off anyway? – I’m sorry… I'll... I'll go back to my room – You said turning your gaze to the door.

– It seems wise but… – He said with a smirk – I thought you didn't want to do your exercises but here you are walking in the dark without shoes... I couldn't hear you until you opened the door – Your face felt hot with embarrassment – Have you had any strange symptoms? – His voice that until now had seemed casual changed to a more serious tone like the one you had heard during the medical appointment. You remained quiet still in front of the door – Well? – He insisted, you turned around to meet his gaze.

– I have a little insomnia, that's all – You lied.

– Then what are you doing here? You could go anywhere else – You opened your mouth to answer but he was quicker – It's not good to lie to your doctor… How will you get well that way? – He opened the drawer to pull out a pair of gloves and moved the chair a bit away from the desk and sat again – Come here – His tone still sounded professional yet there was a spark of mandate that hadn't been there before.

You walked hesitantly to the front of the desk as he put his gloves on. You looked at his hands carefully and after a few seconds you looked away, he did not move from his chair just looked you up and down. You felt totally vulnerable: You were not wearing a bra, just a light blouse with thin straps that barely covered your belly button and elastic shorts, you were on their way to a summer island so it was a little hot.

– I said come here – He tapped the desk a couple of times. You looked at him confused for a moment, but his look seemed serious so you circled the desk cautiously, you positioned yourself between his chair and the desk – Perfect, now sit please – He said looking at you from the chair and you bit your lip nervously while you leaned slightly on the table – Ideally we should do this on the stretcher but we don't want to make too much noise.... as I say it's late – He repeated and then his covered hand stretched towards you until it touched the inside of your knee – I suggest you sit or you will fall – You sat up fully and his hand started to move up on your bare thighs – I'm going to show you how to do it properly – Your breathing started to quicken.

His hand caressed your thighs going up slowly until he reached the bottom of the fabric that now it seemed to be too short – Oh pretty cute – He said while he played with the small lace that adorned the edges of the bastille and with a slow movement he began to caress your crotch on the fabric with his right hand while his left hand continued to go up and down on your thighs. After a few seconds a sigh left your mouth as his hands worked masterfully over your clothes, you closed your eyes.

It's not real You thought trying to flooded your mind I am dreaming

His hand went inside your shorts and caressed over your underwear that was starting to get wet – Let's take this off – He said in a neutral tone.

You opened your eyes and met him, there were a couple of things you hadn't noticed: his hair was a little messy and his shirt had all the buttons open. You leaned on your feet and slid the fabric down your hips to the floor, nervously you sat back on the desk with your legs closed – Excellent – He indicated, you hesitated a few seconds until you felt his hand on your knee – I need you to open your legs again – You opened them slowly. He positioned himself again in the center – I want you to watch carefully – His hands went up your thighs cautiously until they reached your pussy, the tip of his fingers began to trace the shape of your labia majora until he went to the a little up where he found your clit – We are going to work your clit today.... I'm going to show you how and then you'll do it for yourself – He made a circular motion over your sensitive skin and then down to your entrance – You're pretty wet so we can work with that – He moistened his fingers at your entrance and returned to your clit just like he had done during the exam.

– Let's play with a medium pressure in a circular way to stimulate you – you let out a sigh when his fingers started to move – Like this... it feels good doesn't it? – You nodded looking at him as his fingers were sliding creating a delicious friction – I prefer the answers to be verbal, let's try, shall we? – He said looking into your eyes

– Yes... yes captain – You said with difficulty.

– Very good girl, you are an excellent patient – He answered pleased – Now we are going to alternate with ascending and descending movements, these are going to be in a faster rhythm – As soon as his movements changed your breathing instantly became agitated, he looked at you and smiled. You started to feel more aroused, you fully open your legs to allowed him to moisten his fingers with your juices making the rhythm accelerate. You began to gasp and suddenly he returned to the initial slow gyrating rhythm causing an electric sensation to rise from your pussy to your lower stomach and you let out a low moan – How was that? Did you feel it? – He loved to watch you fall apart in his hands.

– We... well... yes it was very good – You tried to gather your thoughts but he started to pick up the pace again.

– It's called edging – He said – Let's do it a couple more times – With that you began to feel the pressure build up again – That’s it... very good – His left hand left your thigh and rested in his lap without stopping touching you.

You let out a needy moan – Are you close honey? – the pet name had escaped him as his professional side was beginning to slip. Then just as the knot was about to loosen inside you he pulled his hand away, a sound of frustration left your lips and you began to tremble.

– Please... – you said looking at him imploringly – please captain....–

– Look at this, you're soaking wet darling – he patted a couple of times over pussy and got his fingers wet from your entrance – Alright... let's make you cum – He started touching you again making circular movements in a medium rhythm, at some point the hand in his lap started moving over his length.

Your arms began to give out and you had to lean your elbows on the desk – Captain... damn it – his fingers moved mercilessly over your clit, you could feel the spasms of your orgasm building inside you. Your eyes closed, your hips shook and your breathing became erratic.

– Don't hold back – He told you in a growl, you let out a high pitched scream and then you saw stars. The warm sensation spread through your lower stomach and you flexed your knees trying to close your legs – No... let's spread it – his other hand came back to you to keep your legs open and he looked at you without stopping touching you, you were trembling from the over stimulation you couldn't hold yourself anymore and you leaned back completely on the desk.

One of your hands took his with a weak grip to stop the movements – I can't... I... it's too much – You said pleadingly, his eyes were darker than usual and looked at you hungrily, for a moment you thought he was going to get angry but he just smiled. He lifted his wet hand and put it in your mouth, you moaned into his fingers as you tasted yourself, he pumped a couple of times and pulled them out without further creating a trail of saliva.

– Perfect – He said as he settled back in his chair, took off his gloves and threw them into the trash can – Let's rest for a moment – You tried to understand his words as you regulated your breathing with difficulty – You have to show me that you can do it alone – A few minutes passed and just when the endorphins began to leave your body, reality fell upon you.

Clearly this was not a dream, you were practically naked in the medical bay in front of him, he had touched you and you had the best orgasm of your fucking life. You began to get up gingerly, Law looked up from the chair without saying anything; your feet touched the floor and your trembling legs struggled to support you.

– I'm waiting honey – He said without taking any notice of your attempt to run away – Show me what you learned and you'll be free to go –

The button of his jeans was open and the zipper down, his erection was noticeable – Law… – His name sounded glorious on your lips.

– Be a good girl and show me – He interrupted you. His hand began to move over his boxers revealing his erection, you lost your breath as he began to slowly stroke and it was huge and curved slightly upwards. You feel yourself craving for him.

The heat was starting to build up between your legs again, you licked your lips and closed your eyes to take a breath. You leaned back on the desk and spread your legs, your hand went to your pussy; you started to slowly caress it, feeling small shivers. Two of your fingers were making circular movements over your clit and you opened your eyes… He was watching you from the chair with his hand on his cock, you started to tremble as you accelerated the rhythm – That darling, very nice – His hand was sliding down his shaft following the rhythm of your movements – Now slower... – Your pussy protested with a spasm when you stopped to slow down the rhythm.

– Holy shit... – You said in a low voice while trying to recover your eyes couldn't stop looking at him. He was breathing heavily, his eyes were fixed on you, he let out a small sigh when you started again and ran his other hand through his hair to see you clearly.

You speed up the rhythm again at his image, that was all, you didn't intend to make it longer or you were going to faint. With linear movements you traced a fast rhythm over your clit, your legs trembled as the orgasm began to form inside you – Slowly – He said with a grunt, you could see how the pre seminal fluid adorned his tip.

You decided that was enough, your rhythm remained steady until you climaxed closing your eyes. You were a difficult person, he knew that and making you follow instructions sometimes was not easy. However he was also quite close, he stroked faster and after a few moments he cum at the sight of your body sunk in ecstasy, he could punish you later.

Both of you were breathing heavily as you recovered, after a moment you heard him get up but you didn't open your eyes. After a while you felt something soft between your legs: he was cleaning you.

– Not listening to your doctor can have consequences – He said seriously – Especially if he is also your captain –

– It was quite a difficult task… – you answered between breaths.

– You're going to have to put more effort into it tomorrow – he replied as he helped you up.

You looked at him as he lifted your clothes off the floor and helped you put them back on – 02:00 am – He said putting his hands on your hips and looked you in the eyes – Now rest and remember to drink plenty of water to recover fluids – With that he walked away.

#trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x female reader #Trafalgar D Law #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law one piece #fanfic #one piece fanfiction

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tarjapearce · 4 months ago

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Tarja!! I need your help😫 You're an amazing writer,right? I've been in a stalemate for MoNtHS and come up with any ideas. I need your fanfic writing wisdoms. (I write my own stories,personally to scared to post them because of what happened last time on wattpad and they're super mad personal to me,but I'm struggling) As a fellow writer how do you get past writer's block? I've tried everything I usually do to come up with new ideas for my stories but I come up short every damn time. Please help before the yeeting commences cause I can't anymore😭🫠

Fr 🥺 jskjs. Thanks for coming to me hehe.

I'm by any means right person but these works for me like wonders :

1. Rest. If you're not rested you brain stresses out and blocks all your creative flow and it shows in your work.

2. Step away from writing. I know it sounds odd, but racking your brain over it isn't a good sign.

3. Watch a movie, take long walks, engage into other hobbies, ( I bake, draw or tend to my garden. I'm a terrible gardener jsksk but it helps!) The point is flushing momentarily everything related to the fic.

4. Use comic sans. (I read it somewhere and IT. WORKS.)

5. Change the last sentence of your last line. You'll find out changing a lot of things that fit better. Change it for the weather, an action, an emotion and subsequently like that ~

6. Don't erase your discarded scenes as they might fit ahead! or recycle ideas within them. c: (This has been a life saver for me :'D)

7. REST. Take breaks. and I mean it. Your brain works even better when you're good. Eat something yum while at it. Then come back to your work with renewed eyes :D.

Hope these help! 🥹 Thanks for asking!

#talking with t✨

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venomous-ragno · 2 years ago

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Writing advice...

... About military things by a soldier :)

Disclaimer: My experiences and knowledge are mostly based on the German military, the Bundeswehr. They may differ from those of other countries.

Happy writing y'all :)

Pt. 6 / ?: Combat wounds (Pt.1)

Before we get into this, let me make one thing clear:

Most people imagine battle hardened soldiers to be terribly scarred, but that is most often not the case. If something gets close enough to scar you, it's close enough to kill you. In war it's either death or not; if it can kill you, it will. Having lots of scars could also just be an indicator that they're unskilled enough to let themself almost get killed one too many times, so think good and hard what scars your character has and how they came to be.

What are scars and how do they come to be?

Whenever your tissue gets damaged, your body tries to fix the loss by releasing this funky lil protein you may know from skin- or haircare: Collagen. It builds up where the tissue got damaged and helps heal and build up fresh new skin, hence why scars are lighter in colour. As collagen builds up for several months the blood supply to that new tissue increases, which is what causes scars to protrude.

But scars aren't just scars: They come in different types.

1. We have contracture scars for one, which are typically burn scars. They cause the skin to tighten and may possibly restrict movement, which can be quite frustrating if the scar is big in size. This comes from the underlying tissue healing by pulling together. Contracture scars can impact the muscles, joints and tendons.

2. Next up are atrophic scars. Fancy word that you may not know, but I bet you've heard of acne scars before. When the skin is unable to form new tissue, a little dent will appear, and that's an atrophic scar.

3. Flat scars are pretty boring. They're called flaz scars cause they flatten down over time, and go from a pinkish red colour to one that somewhat resembles your skin tone.

4. The nastiest ones in my opinion are keloid scars. These lil shits are basically clumps of tissue that grow near the wound, but can also expand past it. They're thick and look somewhat misshapen. Keloids are the result of excessive healing, which means they can pop up anywhere. Perhaps you've seen a friend w an infected piercing that didn't heal well, and they have these dark bumps around it. Yep, those are keloids.

5. Conversely to the atrophic scars we have hyperthropic scars. Sounds fancy, but when medicine names one thing with a- in the beggining, hyper- is usually the exact opposite. Whereas a- indicates too little, hyper- indicates too much of smth. In this case, hypertrophic scars are raised scars. They come to be when too much collagen builds up around a wound, which makes them similar to keloids, which but one decisive difference: Hypertrophic scars don't grow past the wound. Thank god.

6. My favourite scar of all are definitely stretch marks. I have 'em, you have 'em, they're absolutely normal. Stretch marks occur when the skin shrinks or grows too quickly for your body to catch up, thus causing tissues underneath the skin to become damaged.

Anything can happen in war - what are the most common combat injuries?

If I tried listing every possible injury I'd never finish this post, so I'm starting with the most common ones: Second and third degree burns, broken bones, shrapnel wounds, nerve damage, paralysis, loss of sight and / or hearing, PTSD and limb loss.

Sounds scary? Well, it is. But the best weapon against fear is information, which is why I'll break down the first four of those injuries in this post, and the rest in a second part.

Burns

What is a burn? A burn is an injury to the skin (or other organic tissue) caused by heat, radiation, radioactivity, electricity, friction or chemicals.

Burns are classified in four degrees, whereas one is the lightest and six the most serious type of burn.

First degree: Superficial burns, like a sunburn. Red, dry, and ouch but without blisters. Temporary change in skin colour but heals well.

Second degree: Red, swollen and blistered skin. May cause an increase in skin thickness but heals well.

Third degree: White and charred skin. Extensive skin damage. Will heal in (possibly) thick scars.

Fourth degree: Charred skin. Possibly exposing bone or organs. Probably causes permanent damage; may require an amputation.

Fifth degree: Charred skin. Will definitely expose bones etc. Definite permanent damage; amputation required.

Sixth degree: Loss of skin. Damage extends to the bones. Definite permanent damage that requires an amputation, but can lead to fatalities.

Broken bones

A broken bone, or fracture, happens when pressure is exerted unto a bone that it cannot withstand, because of which the bone can break partially or completely. A fracture has to be immobilised with a cast or surgically inserted metal rods / plates. The exact treatment method depends on what bone is fractured and how severe the fracture is.

Are broken bones fatal? Well, they certainly can have severe impacts on your health if not properly treated. Infections, permanent deformities or long-term joint problems are all feasible consequences to a botched treatment.

Luckily for us tho, bones are really good at healing. Doesn't mean a fracture ain't painful tho - the most painful bones to break are the femur, tailbone and the ribs.

If you wanna be mean but not fatally mean, I'd recommend giving your character a cracked rib or two. It's a serious injury that'll put 'em out of commission for a good two months, but they will most certainly recover; be careful of breaking them tho, as the jagged edges can puncture major blood vessels or internal organs, such as the lung. The two lower ribs rarely fracture as they are more flexible than the upper and middle ribs, which are anchored to the breastbone. If you break them however, they can cause serious damage to the spleen, liver or kidney.

Symptoms of a cracked / broken rib include strong pain in your chest area that worsens when breathing or bending the body, swelling and / or tenderness surrounding the ribs, eventual bruising on the skin, and quite literally hearing your ribs crack as they break.

Cracked / broken ribs cannot be as easily supported as other bones, so they're left to heal by themselves.

Shrapnel wounds

When the metal of an explosive pierces the skin, that's when it's called a shrapnel wound. The type of wound depends on whatever caused the injury; most often though they stem from so called IED's - Improvised Explosive Devices. In other words: Bombs, mines, bullets, or even shrapnel bombs and ammo, which are specifically made to cause as much damage to the human body as possible.

Some of these can contain uranium, which makes them poisonous to life forms.

Shrapnel is a nightmare to deal with. The pieces can travel within the body, making them harder to find and remove. You definitely wanna remove them cause they can be hot zones for infections; contrary to what you may have heard though, shrapnel is a relatively rare cause for lead poisoning. I'm gonna focus on gunshot wounds, but if you have any questions concerning other types of shrapnel wounds feel free to shoot me an ask!

Gunshot wounds

Gunshot wounds are caused when a bullet is shot into, or through, the body. They can cause serious injuries such as: Severe bleeding, damage to tissues and organs, broken bones, wound infections, and paralysis.

The exact damage depends on the location of the injury as well as speed and type of the bullet, though wounds to the head or torso are likey to cause more damage. Someone who's been shot has probably had surgery to do either of these:

Stop the bleeding

Clean the wound

Find and remove bullet pieces

Place drains / tubes for bodily fluids

Remove portions of organs (or even whole organs)

There may however be bullet pieces that remain in the body. Often these cannot be removed without causing more damage. Scar tissue will form around these remaining pieces, which may cause ongoing pain or other discomfort. In case of worsening pain, bleeding that won't stop even after applying pressure, increased drainage from the wound, rising body temperature (fever), or red streaks leading away from the wound, paying the doc a visit is a must. This means the wound isn't healing well and needs medical attention.

It will take months, perhaps even years, for a gunshot wound to heal properly - and that's if the victim is lucky enough that the bullet didn't shatter bone, or pass through arteries and nerves. Loss of limbs is also a very possible outcome. Skin-deep cuts and abrasions don't pose much of a problem in terms of healing. Following that would be muscle groups, which may heal in weeks. Tendons and bone can take months. Organ damage will take just as long, or they may be permanently damaged and never heal.

Remember that people heal differently. Especially when it comes to wounds so dependant on the exact caliber and loading of the gun; The size of a bullet and the energy it carries affect the size of the wound channel and cavity. Low powered rounds would not do as much damage as higher powered rounds (e.g. .22 LR vs .223 Rem), and smaller calibers will do less than larger calibers (eg. 9mm vs .45 ACP).

Combat knives

They weren't mentioned above, but seeing as this is supposed to be helpful to writers, oc creators and rp players, I decided to include knife wounds as well.

What is a combat knife?

It's a military issued knife that every soldier is required to carry on them at all times. It is designed with hand to hand combat in mind, thus functioning in a way that the blade can be flipped open and wielded with one hand. The blade is made to 'stand' on its own, aka two hands are needed to fold the blade back into the knife. These two criteria may put the military combat knife under assault weapons law in some countries (e.g. Germany). They are also designed to for utility use, e.g. cutting through shrubbery, thick ropes or opening ammunition crates. Now, I don't know what combat knives look like around the world, but our German one is embossed with the Bundesadler, the eagle that's our national emblem, and it's also a Swiss army knife - meaning that it has additional gadgets like a screwdriver built in.

What are knive wounds and how do they work?

The overall shape of the wound mimics that of the blade being used. Generally speaking, combat knives are meant to stab and slash, although stabbing has a greater possibility of internal organ damage. A well placed slash may sever an artery tho, so your character would do best not to let a knife get close at all.

Most often, a person doesn't die from the wound itself but from shock - not the emotional kind of shock, but the kind that your body goes into when it loses 20% of its blood in volume. In other words, the victim is more likely to die due to bleeding out rather than the wound itself.

That being said however: A stab and some blood loss won't be stopping someone powered by adrenaline and the need for survival. It's quite possible the brain simply drowns the wound out until the body collapses from cumulative blood loss. Every second counts in a real self defense situation. The assailant may be mortally wounded, but as long as they're able to do the same to you, you'll still die.

A trained fighter won't go or the head or neck, but the attacker's weapon wielding arm. Think of it like pulling the fangs out of a snake: By severing the tendons or the muscles that power them, the hand can no longer close and grip anything. A well placed slash can and will have more stopping power than a stab.

How and if a knife wound heals depends on the type of knife used, wether it stabbed or slashed and how deep, as well as the location of the wound. Much like gunshot wounds it can take years to fully recover, if the victim even recovers at all.

#call of duty #call of duty fanfic #call of duty headcanons #cod mw2 imagine #call of duty x you #call of duty könig #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #call of duty soap

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itsscromp · 1 year ago

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Hi! English isn't my first language, sorry for any mistake. You're taking requests for Rocket(gotg), right? I was thinking, maybe you could write something angst/ kinda fluffy (Idk) between vol 1 and vol 2, where Rocket and reader(human) are getting along well. He is in the cockpit and reader joins him, they start to talk and it ends up in a deep conversation where Rocket shares some things he's never shared before cause he's starting to feel comfortable with her. It can be platonic or somewhat romantic, it's up to you. Well, thank you, and sorry if I made it confusing.

I feel comfortable around you

I really like this request anon, You didn't make it confusing at all :D. For this can I do a GN reader if that's ok ??. Word count:943

You became a guardian about a month after the attack on xandar. Rocket saw potential in you when he saw you fend of some people who were trying to rob you and spread the word to Quill. After which you then joined the team. You were an amazing addition to the team, You helped everyone in anyway you could. Like babysitting little Groot, or repairing the ship etc.

You and Rocket especially were becoming two peas from the same pod, Always making wack gadgets to prank the other guardians, like one which with one shot can make your whole body itchy for 15 minutes, or one where if you sneaked the gadget in their pocket, they'd be tossed around in zero gravity. They never failed to make you two laugh every time, even if you had to hid when Gamora was after your butts.

You knew Rocket usually takes rotations at night so one night, after failing to go to sleep, you decided to join him. Putting on your hoodie and some socks, you headed to the cockpit. You could hear Rocket singing softly to himself.

"I didn't know you could sing" You smiled softly as you sat down, To which he lightly jumped hearing your voice.

"Gave me a bit of a fright their pal, Don't go saying that to the others" He smirked at you.

You chuckled turning your sights to the cosmos, Every damn time it never mentioned to amaze you.

"Bet you don't see that every day on Terra huh y/n ??" He looked at you, seeing the sparkle of amazement in your eyes.

"No, you really don't. People on Terra would pay thousands to see this view." You smiled continuing to look out.

Rocket for one not being the conversation starter decided... "Ya know, I don't think you told me about your life on Terra." He said.

You nodded "Yeah I haven't actually, But I guess theirs not much to tell" You chuckled, shaking your head softly.

"No come on, I don't want that scut" He playfully scolded. "Any friends ?? Pets ??" He was actually generally curious. It's been about 6 months since you joined and he doesn't know what your life was like.

"I did have one pet" You giggled thinking about your dog. "She was a dog, we named her lucky"

"Lucky ??"

"Courtesy of my mom, Oh she was so adorable, she would always come into my room every morning to wake me up and beg me to play with her" You sighed contently thinking about it.

"She must've been a big part of ya life" He smiled softly, ears twitching softly as he listened in. You continued on to discuss your life on Terra, Your favourite things about it, and what you hated. Rocket listened contentedly to every bit of it.

"Video games... Didn't Quill mention something like that ??"

"Oh yeah, but my generation's video games in this day of age tell amazing story's that no one could dare to dream of, so don't get me started on the last of us" You chuckled.

"I won't" He snickered as he looked out into the cosmos, This whole conversation could go on for hours, Rocket could never get bored of it. He felt... Comfortable around you.

"Hearing that... I wish I had that life..." He muttered sadly.

"What do you mean ??" You looked at him, tilting your head in confusion.

He quickly landed back from his thoughts "It's nothin kid"

"Rocket, It's ok..." You reassured him, He didn't know why, but the way you said it made it very genuine.

He looked back into the cosmos, going quiet again, It took a little while but he then spoke up.

"From what you told me... I really wished I had your life, I wasn't born to love and security... I was born into pain and despair, The person that made me into this... Made sure everything hurt. Every single damn thing."

Your eyes softened as he continued.

"He would constantly prick needles into me, and perform procedures with no anesthetic." Tears formed in his eyes as the memories of the times as an experiment hit him. "I keep trying to escape, but every attempt only made things worse for me... Made the pain worse..."

"Rocket..." You grew sad for him.

"It doesn't matter... I'm stuck here now... Stuck being a monster" He wiped his nose as he sniffled.

You gently stood up from your chair and kneeled next to him. "I'm really sorry, I genuinely am" You gently reached for his hand, holding it in yours as you rubbed the top of it.

Usually, physical contact would make him very iffy, But he didn't retract his hand like he does usually. He... Leant into it lightly.

"Ya know... It's the first time I actually told someone about this... Guess I'm saying... I feel comfortable around ya kid" This made you softly smile.

"I'll always be here to listen to you Rocket, I promise ok ??" You raised your fist for a fist bump.

He chuckled and fist-bumped you. "Don't go breaking that promise y/n" He chuckled.

You smiled, ruffling his head. "Hey watch the hair" Rocket playfully scolded you.

You yawned and decided to head to bed. "Goodnight furball" You smirked.

"See ya stinky humie" He smirked back at you and looked back at the cosmos. He felt as if... A weight was lifted off his chest as he told you what he experienced. But it felt good. You didn't shut him down, you didn't walk away in horror. You listened to him... That meant to him more than anything in the galaxy.

Taglist: @callofdudes @fun-k-board

#platonic #reader insert #rocket raccoon #rocket raccoon x reader #rocket gotg #gotg rocket #rocket x reader #rocket raccoon x you #guardians of the galaxy imagine #rocket imagine #rocket raccoon imagine

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disablednotdifferent · 3 months ago

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Hello Friends!

it is I, Orion. It has been a while since I have checked in with you all, and I am so sorry for that! However, I do have a reason.

Just today, I found out that i have covid. I am currently writing this post curled up in bed, fighting off Nyquil because I do not want to sleep. I have been sick for a few days now, but JUST tested positive for covid today. This is my 5th or 6th time getting covid, so while I’m used to this, it still is awful.

The kicker is, covid affects me differently than most people because of my chronic illness/pain.

So you might be asking, “Orion, How does it affect you differently ?? I thought everyone got sick the same way!” Dear reader, I am glad you asked! Here is a list of 4 things that happen to me when I get covid, and why this is my actual living nightmare right now.

1. My Pain

Because I have covid, my tolerance for pain has decreased, while my pain has skyrocketed. This means it’s very difficult for me to get around, and especially makes going up and down my stairs hurt more than it usually does.

2. The Length

Most folks only get sick for a few days, normally averaging somewhere between 4-6 days ill. However, for me, I can be sick for up to two weeks, sometimes even longer. Last time I had covid, I was sick for a week and a half. I have no clue how long this time will last, but I will keep you updated!

3. My Symptoms

Like a lot of other chronically ill persons, covid symptoms tend to stay with us for up to a month after we get over covid. This means my cough, runny nose, and terrible headache can last for a long long time, even after I’ve tested negative more than once.

4. My Fever

Yes, technically a fever falls under symptoms, but I’m also giving it it’s own section for a reason. At the moment, I’m in a pain flare up, which already causes me to have a low fever pretty often. With Covid, this fever can possibly shoot up to 102* F (38.3* C), or sometimes even higher. Once, I got up to a 105* F (41.1* C), and I had to take a lovely trip to the emergency room that day.

So, with all of those and more combined, what do I do to stay safe and comfortable during these nightmare-ish times ? I’m glad you asked!

1. Stay hydrated

Currently, I keep a big water bottle full of water with electrolytes in it next to me while I’m in bed, to make sure I stay as hydrated as possible. It helps that the electrolytes are flavored to be lemon, which is a flavor I quite enjoy, especially when I’m sick.

2. Stay Cozy

I will admit, I have not changed out of pajamas and a hoodie all day today. I like to stay comfortable when I’m in pain & very sick, and so I usually end up rotating the same several pajamas (washing the ones I’m not wearing if I’m able to get up) to make sure I stay in clothes that I like.

3. Wait it out

This one is my least favorite. No matter how comfortable or hydrated I am, in the end, I have to just wait it out until I feel better. This part sucks, as I’m in pain and violently sick, etc etc. But, at the end of the day, time will eventually be on my side, and hopefully this will go away shortly.

So again, I apologize for my lack of posts. Covid kicks my butt every time!

I will hopefully be able to keep up with posting a little more consistently once I’m over this, but until then, I am giving into my nyquil, and giving up on staying awake.

Lots of Love!

~Disabled not Different

(QUESTION OF THE POST!

What are some things you do to take care of yourself when you’re sick? Let me know!)

#chronic fatigue #chronic illness #chronic pain #i am in pain #in pain #its okay to be disabled #ouch #ouch ouch ouch #ouchie #disabled #covid 19 #long covid #sick #sickness #i am unwell #im sick #covid isn't over #i think i hauve covid #i have covid

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rollercoasterwords · 4 months ago

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hi, good evening or whichever,

so i started reading as the worm moon dies like a year ago, when u started posting i think, then left it at regulus’ interlude because of life i guess, i had a no reading streak, but then i started reading again yesterday and binged it in 6 hours because… yes. it’s fucking great. like, you’re really an amazing writer. and i’ve just come to compliment the shit out of your fic and your choices for this story. i beg your pardon for the intrusion and this long ass ask.

1. the action. as a writer myself it’s so fucking hard to pull of action scenes and fast paced moments. i never got confused on how they went to point A to B, what happened was clear but still rushed and fast paced. especially the chamber of secrets dude. i was at the edge of my seat, almost screaming at the laptop. SO GOOD.

2. james. gosh dang it. you fucking nailed it. such a hero, such a self sacrificial guy. he intrinsically believed he was good, that he would vanquish evil. and then. HE FAILS. it hurt so bad, it felt all so wasteful. and then. HE’S KILLED BY THE SISTER OF SOME MISTAKE HE MADE. he just so carelessly and accidentally killed peter, and then he can do nothing as his sister kills him. it was so fucking good. i love when every sacrifice he made was all for him not to reap any of the fruit. christ. i still get chills. i love him.

3. remus and sirius. like, your characters in general but they killed me. i love that at the start remus was hellbent on the cause, all rationality, every sacrifice was necessary. he even suspected sirius of being to cowardly for the fight but THEN. remus is angry at sirius because he went too far in his sacrifice. how cowardly am i now remus. delicious fucking food.

and yeah i could say many more things but this is your blog and i can go insane in my own head about this fic so i will.

thank you for this story, the work that you put into it, and your generosity for sharing it. i am eagerly waiting for the last two chapters :))

hi!! responding a bit late lol but no need 2 apologize i love long asks <3 so glad ur enjoying the fic!!

action scenes can def be tricky 2 write but they're also so fun <3 helps that i usually have a little movie playing in my head while i write them so i just picture what's happening + describe that lol

& james!! yeah i knew from the beginning that i wanted his character to serve as a sort of deconstruction of the whole 'chosen one' trope in the fic, so i really wanted to write someone who embodied that figure of The Hero Destined for Greatness and have his entire life build up to that & then very decidedly have him fail!! so that ultimately what kills him is sort of like a reflection of himself: not a hero, but a kid seeking vengeance. love a tragedy etc

r&s have been very fun 2 write in this fic as well...i do love a bit of irony & u hit the nail on the head w ur summary lol. i was talking to a friend abt this as well tho to give remus a bit of credit technically sirius DID do more than he strictly had to--like he could have just erased his memory up to the point where he & r got captured by poachers & still think he'd been captured by the order rather than that he was working with them when he went back w his memory erased, bc up to that point he really hadn't been working w the order! but he knew if he only erased the 6 months he was actually w the order he'd be putting a huge target on remus's back; so really the only reason he went back further & completely erased all his time w remus was to protect him. & that's part of why remus is so angry! sirius didn't strictly have to erase literally every part of their relationship, but he did it to protect r...i love when love makes everything worse <3

anyway ty 4 ur message + the kind words etc! <3

#ask #wfrau

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worldismyne · 5 months ago

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Seeing how you actually are able to keep your promise of weekly chapters, any tipps to commiting to a schedulde? I often think with all my free time I should be able to do the same with my storys but I just get burnt out or distracted and then self loath cause when I actually have the will again I have work responsibilities or other important stuff going on

Don't commit to an upload schedule until the first draft is finished.

Write to entertain yourself, not to meet a deadline.

Write as much as you can while the idea is new and exciting.

When soft writing and/or brain storming, I like to make a playlist specific to that story. The scenes I have that are tied to specific songs are the easiest to write.

Find the 1 hr on your days off that you have the most energy. (For me it's right after breakfast). Try as often as you can to write then. Even once every other week, is amazing.

It's okay to leave fics unfinished.

Your freetime where you rest is important

Listen to audiobooks in the same genre that you're aiming to write.

Whenever stuck, don't google, put < get there > and keep writing. When editing go back and either add to the scene or just cut it. 9/10 if I think a scene needs something to start it off, it actually doesn't.

(Longer explination of my process under the cut).

DON'T COMMIT TO AN UPLOAD SCHEDULE UNTIL IT'S ALREADY DONE.

I write as much as I can while hyperfixating on a story without posting it. So the draft for the fic I'm uploading atm was finished three months ago. I started uploading when I had 16 chapters written (or 4 months of backlog).

I can't count on how long an idea will hold my interest, or if I have enough material to stretch it out over multiple chapters. (I only just recently got into one shots. If you look at my other fics, I average around 20 k for a 'long' fic, because I get bored). So don't hold yourself to a strict length. Write the important, most engadging parts, walk away, come back and make sure it flows.

The important thing is I'm writing to entertain myself. Writing for a self imposed deadline or to meet audience expectations always burns me out. (No amount of kudos or comments will ever combat that)

I work 3, 12 hr night shifts a week, so a lot of the writing I do is during downtime at work. I personally find it difficult to write at home and spend a great deal of time recovering from working. The body needs that time to recover and it took years of unlearning that rest and self care are unproductive or a waste of time. If your work doesn't allow you that luxury, have a place out of the house you go to for longer periods of writing.

The playlist thing is a lifesaver, never discount the importance of soft writing. I literally can not visualize things, so music helps me have an outline to plot out scenes or chapters (i.e. what tone am I trying to capture). Also works to reignte the spark of inspiration. The time I'm most active is the morning, but that time often gets eaten up by real life, however it's easy to budget a half hour of time to that peak writing time. Those lil bits add up. If you haven't made progress on something in a while, it isn't a bad thing that you've prioritized other things. The writing process should be fun. It's like playing pretend, but you get to keep it afterward.

It's okay to abandon fics.

I still reread unfinished fics people posted, because what they had up was full of passion. A lot of the fics I couldn't finish were either the scope of the story was too big for what I wanted to write or the direction I was taking the fic wasn't working. Crest of the Dragon was on a 6 year hiatus before I was able to come up with an ending I liked. I was surprised people who'd followed it and left tumblr came back just to congradulate me for finishing it. Your readers will understand if you have to step away from something for a while. Updating serially often puts fic writers in a corner, by having the WIP up for everyone to see.

Burnout is usually not from the writing, but the real life shit going on around us. It can take years to figure out the main source and how to deal with it. Mental and emotional rest are important. I'm a bit neuro spicy, so there are straight up weeks where I have to resign myself to not creating anything. Having the back log helps in those instances, since l typically make things in fevered burst and then have to recoop.

Recently figured out listening to disc world novels has helped with my SE fic. It has good examples of absurdest humor, world building and general descriptions. I don't have time to read, but a lot of audio books are free on youtube. If you really, really get stuck, seeing how a pro tackles things can help even subconciously.

<get there> is my new friend. I'm not big on writing non-linearly. For longer stories, I'll parse out the main story beats and then hope the characters develope in that direction. Sometimes they go off the rails on me, or a planned subplot gets scraped. So, for this fic, I had all the mystery reveals spaced out between the two storylines. For character arcs, I go on explorative vibes.

All this to say, writing for me is an escape, and most of the time I'm doing it when I'm in a position where my options are either be on my phone or write. If I got 15 min or more, I choose write. If I got a sentence out, that counts.

It doesn't have to be perfect, or finished, or written in a timely matter. It just has to be, as long as what you're writing entertains you. Worry about uploading once you're done with it.

#myne talks #writing advice #Writing at work is not the best advice but it's what i do >_> that and writing in l cafes #ao3 writer #Hope any of this helps o7

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writingbyricochet · 1 year ago

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Writer Q&A Tag Game

Thank you so much @mthollowell-writes for the tag! I loved reading your answers and this was fun to fill out :)

1) What motivates you to write?

Mostly my mind cannot stop thinking of Situations. Whether they're for characters from my current TV/film hyperfixations or my own OCs, writing is the best way for me to get it out of my system and the artistic form I'm the best at.

2) A line/short snippet of your writing that you are most proud/happy of. If not maybe share a line of someone else's work you love (just please credit them)

From Where Paradise Died and Lived:

Sophie was just about draw her hand away, and perhaps he felt the pressure lessening, for then he brought his own hand up to cover hers, to keep her from moving it. He held her hand there, his fingers curling just barely under hers, not with any force but with a lightness she had just been administering to him. And underneath it, a reassurance that seemed to communicate he wanted something that quickened her heart. She knew if she proceeded here, she would be crossing a line she had thought she wouldn’t cross for a long time yet. She finally raised her gaze to meet his, and all sense escaped her—his eyes looked like the way she felt, all the encouragement she needed. A little bit scared, a little bit in love, she kissed him.

3) Which OC makes you smile every time you think/talk about them and what are they like?

Honestly, I haven't gotten to write a lot of him yet, but I have a soft spot for Fendley. He believes passionately in the Velitovan cause and wants to fight for its independence...but he's also the biggest homebody and hates being away from Merity. The two parts of his personality are just direct contradictions to each other, it makes me laugh.

4) What process of writing do you enjoy the most?

Character building: creating a backstory, personality, aesthetic, all that good stuff

5) What part of writing do you think you are the best at? (Yes stroke your own ego it's okay)

Describing inner turmoil? When I look at the passages I'm most proud of, they all have to do with an internal dialogue of some kind, usually in a situation with heightened tension or vulnerability where a character has a lot going on in their mind.

6) What is something in the writeblr community is most enjoyable?

Making friends with everyone! The support system is a huge motivator and definitely something that keeps me going.

7) A writing tool/device you use that helps you with writing? (It could be speech to text, a writing program etc)

Scrivener, my beloved. I was working in Evernote for way longer than I ever should have and was getting just so sick of it that I finally took the plunge to get Scrivener. Night and day comparison. There are so many great tools and functions and I love being able to have one document for a WIP and its outline, characters, worldbuilding, everything. It's definitely pricey up front, but in the long run worth it since it's just a one-time purchase. Highly recommend giving it a trial run to anyone interested.

8) A piece of worldbuilding that you like in your own story? (It could be the magic system, a particular place in the story, a law etc)

I really love the country of Velitova, especially the lands beyond the Idylwild. In-universe they're written off as being sort of rural, but the nature out there is so beautiful and pristine. Huge rolling hills, a huge lake surrounded by flowering trees, cliffs facing a wild ocean...yes.

9) What piece of advice would you say to encourage others to write if they are having a rough patch?

Stop writing: Whether it's a for a few days or a few months, taking a break from my WIPs and re-setting my mind whenever I am struggling is always the best solution.

Return to worldbuilding: I've seen a lot of people discuss how we get desensitized to the cool things in our WIPs after a while. Creating more cool things that will be new to me as well often makes my WIP exciting again.

Get outside: Traveling always inspires me, but I find even walking around your neighborhood can be so helpful! I especially walking among trees in the fall, that air of melancholy during that time of year just gets me.

10) Tag some people whose works you love/have been your biggest supporters

Love to @sugar-phoenix, @macabremoons, @orphicpoieses @awordchemist @moonlitinks (all of whom should take this as a gentle tag to answer the Q&A yourself!), and special shout out to my IRL best friend @canofpeaches who always goes feral whenever I send her a WPDL snippet (hope you did not combust reading the one above) <3

#tagged

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eric-cartman-my-beloved · 1 year ago

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Teen Eric headcanons

(Originally I wanted to write an one-shot for Eric’s birthday, but I ended up focusing on a multi-chaptered fic of mine, so I wouldn’t make it on time for the 1st of July. I wrote this instead, because I also had no ideas to draw, and I figured headcanons would be better than nothing.)

Eric never quits his habit of overeating, but grows rather tall regardless, due to the genes from his father’s side of the family. His full height is about 6 feet 1, and he ends up being the tallest out of the main four (and Butters) in high-school and later on in adulthood.

Actually has naturally really nice skin, with no acne or zits and very smooth. Though he does help a bit by putting on some skincare products that he’d never let anyone besides Liane find out that he uses. (Because that’d be “gay”.)

Stops wearing a hat for the most part because it keeps messing up his hair. And he spends quite a bit of time combing it and taking care of it. (Not that he’d tell anyone.)

Has a cute, small, round nose and thin, nicely-shaped eyebrows.

Of course he’s still heavy (over 105kg or 231 pounds), but as he was growing taller the weight has been distributed to his body more gracefully, so he is more bulky than he is “fat”, though his belly is still quite visible and his cheeks are round.

Dresses semi-formally even on regular days at school. Button-up shirts, corduroy pants, suede shoes, trench coats occasionally, things like that. Likes to brag about how expensive the brands are all the time.

His overall situation has not been getting any better with time. On the contrary, the more that time passes, the worse he gets mentally. He lashes out and is rude at innocent people far more easily, gets more irritable and is more prone to anger bursts.

Eric is unbearable to be around to the point their group almost splits up. It becomes a vicious cycle and the less Kyle, Stan and Kenny want to hang out with him, the more he clings to his racist ideals.

The only friend who mostly remains by his side is Butters, whom he often involves in schemes in order to make money.

Like it happened with his therapist’s wife, he has caused more people who irritated him once or twice to commit suicide, as, after that and the incident with Scott, he steadily only becomes bolder with what he can get away with.

His relationship with Liane also worsens over time. After several failed attempts to try and control him, Liane eventually regresses back to her usual ways and tries to give him anything he wants, because of how detrimental and exhausting arguing with him all the time is.

He still experiences hallucinations every now and then. He stopped seeing his stuffed animals around when he was about 15, but Cupid Me persisted.

Liane has tried to take him to therapists (for…everything) but Eric does not believe he needs help, thinks him going there is a violation of his rights and is always hostile to the doctors, therefore, they have to cut ties after less than two months.

He is nearly always unable to sit through an entire period without causing some kind of disturbance in the classroom. Be it bothering his classmates (Kyle especially) or casually pulling his phone out, and expects no repercussions about anything. Hence, he’s always exasperated and irritated when a teacher reprimands him.

It isn’t often that teachers reprimand him, however, because he almost always shouts at them even at a simple “be quiet, Eric”, and given that his worsening mental condition is obvious, they are unsure and/or afraid of what he might do, as he can be unpredictable. So they prefer to return home with a headache, rather than try to get Eric to behave.

He has gotten into trouble with the principal for being caught owning nazi paraphernalia, and Liane was also informed, but Eric never bothered to reconsider about stopping to buy such items.

For a couple of weeks, he attended the meetings of a far-right organization, but eventually quitted because “they were sitting on their asses all day long”.

Wanted to get a swastika tattoo on his arm, but he chickened out at the last minute because he was scared of the pain.

He ran for president of the student council in 12th grade, but he was elected vice-president, and his pride could not afford Wendy being elected president, so he quitted on his own.

Has managed to teach himself nearly fluent German, semi-fluent Spanish and a bit of French.

Unsurprisingly, he does not do well in school except for German class. His grades in the other subjects are just… tragic. But he doesn’t care because he thinks that studying and getting into college is “overrated anyway”.

Eventually grows out of crossdressing, but still goes through a crisis about his sexuality. Luckily for him, his primary attraction is females, which makes it easier for him to repress the part of his brain that is attracted to males.

They have an on-and-off kind of relationship with Heidi ever since 10th grade. Heidi was understandably reluctant to date him after what she had gone through in 4th grade, but Eric managed to convince her that he has changed, and that he’s a different, better person.

He loves bragging about having a girlfriend, and tells lots of stories about how their relationship progresses (though some are fake, or have a bit of an extra spice to them).

Not all girls find him as intolerable to look at anymore. Though, of course, they still can’t stand his personality, which is why, since Eric really wanted a girlfriend, he chose to go to Heidi, whom he knew he could convince of his change.

He has a small crush on Wendy, but he’d rather give all his progress in a video game up than ever admit it to anyone – even to himself.

He often sleeps over at Heidi’s place without letting Liane know beforehand, and when he returns the next morning, she doesn’t bat an eye. (Heidi’s parents are a different story, however.)

A few months before the end of 12th grade he takes up smoking. At first he just thinks that it looks “kinda cool” but eventually he ends up actually liking it.

He gets warnings about how his habits are going to affect his health badly in the long term, but he always ignores people. Eric always thinks he knows better than anybody else around him.

Alright, so, that about does it for the headcanons. I’d also like to share a few songs that I personally strongly associate with Eric (even if not all the lyrics fit him perfectly):

youtube

#south park #eric cartman #south park cartman #south park headcanons #happy birthday eric🥳

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dirty-bosmer · 1 year ago

Note

Now that I'm almost caught up on The Illusionist, I was wondering if you'd be willing to enlighten me on your writing process. Also, if you feel comfortable sharing, was there anything unexpected or surprising that you learned about writing fic?? Super curious and super nosy :>

Thank you for the ask, Z!! I will be honest, my writing process is a MESS, especially now that I'm super busy with school. For each chapter, I usually have a scaffold to work with, and the very least some bullet points that outline each scene. It is almost unimaginable to me that in the early days of my fic, I could write a chapter every few weeks over several regular writing sessions. These days it's so chaotic. I write nothing at all for months at a time then get hit by inspiration ray and stay up from 5 AM to 3 AM writing the bulk of a chapter. It's so unsustainable lol. It usually goes like this:

Write a line.

Agonize over said line.

Write a few paragraphs. Go back to original line and rewrite it three times. End up with the same line I started with.

Forget about things for a few weeks. Write another paragraph. Rewrite said paragraph. Rewrite first line again.

Rearrange all the sentences and re-read it until I'm sick of myself.

Brood for a bit. Get distracted for a few more weeks.

Scrounge for inspiration in my dreamscape. When it hits, spend all of Saturday writing and doing nothing but writing. Don't contact anyone. Don't go outside. Don't do anything. Don't even blink.

Edit while burnt out cause I slept for 6 hours over the entire weekend and hopefully don't get sick of myself again :D

So yeah, I don't recommend that, eheh. I think it's been so difficult cause I'm at the end of a long fic and feeling the pressure, but hopefully when I get back into my Skyrim fic, I'll have planned it out a bit more and it will not be so lawless. Also I've found that chipping away little by little and having someone to do writing sprints with helps a ton with maintaining creative flow (thanks @gilgamish <3)

As for the second part of the question, I'd say what surprised me the most was 1) how much I enjoy writing and 2) how many people have enjoyed my writing. I started The Illusionist back in 2017 with no real writing experience or intention of publishing online, kind of just went *dooot dooot* on the keyboard for a few years, then realized "omg there's a story here" (is it obvious that i pantsed 😅). At some point, I realized it had become a serious hobby, and I actually wanted to improve my skill which is a blessing and a curse cause I've found a real passion for the craft but that also means I'm a lot harsher on myself now.

The second point was far more unexpected tho— I'm truly blown away by how welcoming this community has been and how supportive my friends are. Absolutely mind-boggled that anyone has taken time out their day to read my fic, let alone dropped a message to tell me they liked it 😭 I'm incredibly grateful. Oblivion is almost TWO DECADES OLD, and when I first started writing, my fic was a rare-pair that centered around the mages. THE MAGES GUILD. It was so unbelievably unsexy and understandably received very little engagement XD For years it was like that, so my expectations have always been and will remain very low. Still, I'm having such a blast and hope to be writing for a while :)

#asks #writing

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rose-tinted-juls · 1 year ago

Text

I'M SCREAMING OMG i should be packing rn bc i move into my new rent for uni today, instead what was i doing? reading this bc i couldn't stop thinking about a house a home and wanted to know what happens next. do i have to rush impossibly now with the packing? yes. do i regret choosing to read where do we go instead? 100% no.

1. THE PARALLELS!!!! i was honestly squealing after reading the first line and the last but let's talk about that later shall we so yeah, the "carlos sainz is a ..." sentences straight on killed me. from the very first second.

2. "charles's eyes are still bright, elated you had decidd to come alongside him. all he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months."

3. "however, his grasp, like the entirely of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. charles' thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. he'd taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he'd never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. it was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you."

4. this conversation: "i didn't realise you'd be here, mariposa. come to make sure your husband behaves?" - "no. i came to see how his teammate is behaving. i'm a married woman, carlos." - *your marital status doesn't change the way i feel for you." I'M DEAD I'M SCREAMING I LOVE THESE TWO SO MUCH

5. "he tries to keep his breathing calm, your presense practically overpowering him." oh to be that woman who has that effect on carlos sainz jr himself.

6. "when you take a sip of the rich red, you're blissfully unaware of your husband's eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don't want to focus on anything else." AHHHHH honestly jay you're killing me over here

7. also, "nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head. you were his wife, after all." EXCUSE ME. i don't even know why am i crying at this so hard i just do

8. "it didn't stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you'd regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning." DOMESTIC CHARLES 😭😭 also this is finally something so husband of him why are you so late with this charles why couldn't you be like this a year ago 😭

9. "you can'thelp but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. but this wasn't a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first." SHE STRONG omg i could never be her, half broken relationship or not i would kiss charles leclerc no matter what.

10. CHARLES AND HER LITTLE SISTER 😭😭 and how she reminds him of baby arthur 😭 i'm not okay rn

11. "undeniably, carlos sainz looks good in any situation." *george russell voice* FACT. carlos is honestly unreal by how good he always looks.

12. again, the beginning and end of "carlos sainz is a best friend" and "carlos sainz is your best friend" ughh *chefs kiss* breathtaking writing once more

13. i FEAR that the photo carlos took of her sleeping will come back somehow and it will cause me pain i'm AFRAID

14. so back to the parallels. FINISHING AGAIN WITH A CONFESSING TEXT!!!! AND THIS TIME IT'S CHARLES ADMITTING TO BE IN LOVE WITH HER. I'M DECEASED AND IN HEAVEN FOR SURE. charles babe why are you so late and make things so much more complicated </3

another gorgeous chapter by the queen herself that i couldn't help but read asap. now i just have to find time to read the third part and my life will be complete. new fave c2 fic? easily. i ADORE everything about this fic and about its precious writer. there are no words that could properly express how much i love you, @forteafy <333

Where Do We Go? | CL16 & CS55

Summary: Charles will do anything to fix his marriage with you, Carlos will do anything to prove you're worth more. The question is where do you go between the two men fighting for your affection?

Word Count: 9.7k

Warnings: angst, a lotta angst, cheating, light smut, character death.

Note: You all really wanted a Part 2 to this one, and of course, I wanted to deliver! This is a little bit more angsty, we’re trying to save a relationship, after all. Or…are we? Also, a massive thank you to @formulaforza for proof-reading this for me and pulling me up on my addiction to italics; my brain is literally jelly right now. Enjoy, everybody!

You can read part 1, ‘A House, A Home,’ HERE!

Carlos Sainz is a best friend.

Best friends, however, do not text a love confession to one another in the hours of a rising sun, especially not when their declaration is to a woman who is wrapped up in the arms of her husband.

The confession had run cold through your veins; if it hadn’t been for the sheer exhaustion taking over your body from the events of the past 48 hours, you were certain you would have been up the entire night, contemplating the words he had sent to you. He wasn’t drunk; far from it, the man had driven you down the dusky streets to your home mere hours before. Was he lonely? Did he feel sorry for you? More importantly, did he mean those precious words that had lit up your screen?

Eventually, the desire for sleep, for the warmth of your estranged husband’s chest pillowing your back overtakes your body. You hadn’t slept in a bed with him since the last day of your supposed honeymoon; even then, you had slept with an infinite gap between the two of you, cuddling instead into a pillow, rageful tears in your eyes at the realization that this was now your life.

This was entirely different. Charles pressed into you as if holding you together; his warm breath danced across the nape of your neck, a hand pressed into your stomach, cradling you between the warm blankets and soft cushions you had picked out when decorating your room. You didn’t rouse during the night, the two before had been filled with tears, constantly awakening to call for your mother as if you were a child again, the harsh realization that she wasn’t around anymore.

When you did wake, the bed was empty.

You had subconsciously turned in the blankets when you arose, expecting to see the figure of your husband next to you. The pillow was still rumpled, his glasses disappeared from the nightstand, every single trace of him had seemed to evaporate. Clearly, one night next to you had been a big enough mistake in his eyes.

Instead, your attention turns towards your phone. Silently, you remove the device from its charger, the homescreen being flooded with sympathetic messages and photographs of you arriving at your father’s home. Luckily, no photographs of Carlos picking you up himself had been released; that would have caused a frenzy which wasn’t desired on either side.

However, his last text to you that evening before still stayed burned into your screen. In curiosity, you’d once again opened the text thread, seeing th

e words stand strong, his confession to his feelings presents for your eyes. He had laid it out so clearly, Carlos Sainz was in love with you.

But, were you in love with him? You loved your family; you loved the smell of fresh candles. You adored the sounds of the fastest cars in the world racing around a track whilst you watched with ease. Did you categorize your best friend into the love you so carefully crafted? Was the desire you felt for contact solely directed towards him?

You never had time to answer yourself that morning. Your subconscious state recognised the sound of footsteps; it was most likely Charles, on his way to his own room for some private time. Maybe he’d have his mistress with him, having snuck out of bed early that morning to possibly go and pick her up himself.

The footsteps get louder, the door to your room opens, much to your confusion. In the doorway, stands your husband. You’ve never seen him like this; a soft smile, hair pushed back by a bandana, glasses resting on the bridge of his small nose. He’s dressed in a soft, grey jumper and matching tracksuit bottoms, fluffy socks warming his feet. In one arm, he cradles a washing bag. Upon closer inspection, you see that it’s your washing from the case you had lugged in the night before, ironed and folded. In his other hand, he holds a steaming mug of tea.

He looks beautiful like this, almost ethereal. He looks domestic.

“Good morning.” He speaks gently, as if any sudden sound would hurt you. You looked…so precious, covered in blankets, your pajamas covering your modesty. “I’m sorry I had to leave early. I went to get your washing done and…pick up some tea.” He offers, holding up the bag of washing in confirmation. Charles offers you a smile as walks into the room, placing the pile of clothing on your vanity. Cradling the mug of hot tea in his hand, he walks back over to where you’re now sat up, surrounded by soft furnishings, offering you the drink which you gladly accept.

It's a mediocre cup of tea at best; the teabag hasn’t diluted properly, there’s too little milk and too much sugar. Yet, the fact he had made the drink himself caused your heart to soften, despite the past twelve months of actions. You offer him a soft ‘thank you,’ as the drink touches your lips. You’re half-expecting him to stand up and leave immediately. Instead, Charles sits himself down on the edge of the bed, making certain he doesn’t sit on your outstretched legs.

There’s a moment of bliss; you’re somewhat enjoying the drink cradled in your hands, your husband’s eyes trained on your movements. At one moment, he reaches out his hand towards your face. You flinch, not too sure on what was happening, before his palm simply tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. You can’t bring your own eye gaze to meet him, simply focusing on the hot drink in your hand. You can’t help but notice the way his shoulders fall, clearly not satisfied with the lack of eye-contact.

You can’t help it; it’s as if Charles believes with one night wrapped in his arms would solve the past twelve months. You couldn’t forget, not everything that had happened. Your husband had shattered this relationship, well and truly. He could only hope he’d realised in enough time to somehow win you back. Silently, he stands up from the edge of the comforter, walking towards the vanity, beginning to remove the clothing from its basket. It’s… humorous, to see him try and figure out where each category goes. It’s also a stark reminder of how this is ‘your’ room, not ‘our’ room.

Whilst picking out a rather revealing pair of panties, folding them up and placing them into your draw, he begins to speak again. “What are you doing this afternoon?” His voice is soft, but in the silent room it carries well.

You shrug, before realizing Charles has his back to you. “I’m…nothing much.” You cut yourself off, placing the cup of tea on your bedside table, letting your hands pull up the comforter a little higher. “My father is going to the funeral parlor today.” Are you…having a conversation with your husband? “How about you?”

“I have lunch with the Ferrari team this afternoon. Nothing serious, just a talk on the next part of the season.” He explains. Charles isn’t stupid; he knows despite your father’s input that you constantly worry about his job. Not because you care about his fame, wealth or power; you care about him.

“I was,” he takes a breath. “I was wondering if you would like to come along.”

You feel goosebumps prickle across your exposed skin. Charles Leclerc never invited you to his lunches. He’d always have a reason as to why his darling Mrs. Leclerc could never attend their lunch meetings alongside him. The only time you’d ever appear by his side, fingers harshly interlinked and a cold barrier between you both was when your father insisted upon it. He wouldn’t be there today, there was no way he’d be present for any form of meeting for a while now.

“You don’t have to, of course.” His explanation runs further. “I know it might be too much for you now. I just thought…maybe we could go for a drive after. Carlos and Xavi will be there, you’ll know some of the others from the Paddock…” His voice trails off in your mind. It had started to the moment he had said the Spaniards name.

Were you… ready to see Carlos? The day after a text message you had never thought you’d see. Would he acknowledge the message, was it a drunken mistake? Most importantly, did you want him to love you?

When you come back out of your trail of thoughts, Charles is still talking, carefully hanging one of your summer dresses onto a velvet coat hanger. He takes a moment to brush the fabric under his fingertips, feeling the soft cotton under his touch. He’s so gentle. The touch is almost identical to the way he had held you mere hours ago.

“I’ll come.” You cut him off, watching as his head snaps in your direction, eyes bright underneath his glasses. “Yeah. It will be…nice.” You finish your sentence, trying not to ramble or to float off topic. Charles’ eyes are still bright, elated you had decided to come alongside him. All he had to do now was fix every other mistake spanning over twelve months.

Carlos Sainz is a red-wine gentleman.

You’d immediately spotted him the moment you had entered the waterside restaurant; his back was to the entrance, but you’d recognise the powdered blue shirt and dark wisps of hair in any circumstance. You could have just walked over, stood next to him and ordered a drink, but your fingers stayed tightly interlocked with your husbands, a force of habit in public at the current rate.

However, his grasp, like the entirety of his actions over the past twenty-four hours, was different. Charles’ thumb gently stroked over your knuckle, his fingers gently resting against yours instead of the firm grip he usually held for the sake of actions. He’d taken a moment to look at you before entering the building, something he’d never done in the past, simply having dragged you into whatever location instead. It was as if his eyes told you a million things; that he had your back and the moment you wanted to leave, he was right behind you.

The moment you’re in the presence of company, the façade still comes alive, the act you had been creating for all this time is still a force of habit. Charles’ hand comes around your waist, greeting the many members of the Scuderia Ferrari team, thanking them for his time and attention to the matter. As always, you tactfully excuse yourself from the side of your husband, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek and removing yourself from the crowd. Usually, he wouldn’t so much as flinch from the chaste action, but you don’t miss his eyes longing for you to stay this time.

Instead, your heel-clad feet press through the tiles of the place, making advancements towards the white marbled-bar. You receive a nod from the friendly-looking gentleman mixing cocktails, a silent signal to let him know when you’re ready. Maybe you stand too close to Carlos, so much so that you can smell his cologne, you can feel his body warmth radiating through that shirt. It doesn’t take long for him to notice your presence, his eyes widening upon the realization that it was, in fact, you–the woman he had confessed his feelings to less than twelve hours ago.

“I didn’t realize you’d be here, Mariposa,” he taunts, pulling you into his side. You’re grinning immediately, happy to be reunited with your close friend after how he had left you last night, promising he’d be there if you needed anything. “Come to make sure your husband behaves?”

“No. I came to see how his teammate is behaving.” You let him ponder for a moment, but he realizes, the blush growing from his neck to his cheeks. “I’m a married woman, Carlos.” You remind him but make no attempt to move further away. The idea is completely eradicated when his hand comes out to rest on the small of your back. His eyes are still fixed on you. He knows he shouldn’t be doing this. It’s not fair to you. He couldn’t care less about his teammate’s position, the way he’s treated you all this time leaves a sour taste on his tongue.

“Your marital status doesn’t change the way I feel for you.” He thinks back to that moment in the ocean. What on Earth would be happening if he had kissed you at that moment? He could never be certain, but something tells him you’d be his date to this luncheon right now. Sighing, Carlos turns to face you directly, the bottle of wine he had originally come to pick up having been left on the counter.

“I’m going to ask you something, and you don’t have to respond.” He tries to keep his breathing calm, your presence practically overpowering him. “But...I would love to take you out for a date sometime. A proper date. With flowers and dinner and being able to make you smile.” Your heart is softening by the moment with the Spaniard’s pleads of everything your husband had never given you. “Would you like that?”

“I would.” You don’t even have to think of your response. “I would like that, Carlos.” At that moment, your estranged husband is the last thought of your mind; instead it’s overpowered by the fantasies of a date with the man standing in front of you. This time, Carlos can’t help the grin on his lips, reaching for the bottle of red wine on the bar. His careful hands carefully unlatch the stopper, the liquid hitting two crystal glasses, one of which he passes to you.

“Well, shall we toast the idea, no?” he holds up the glass delicately, to which you raise your own, grinning at the satisfying sound of clinking crockery. When you take a sip of the rich red, you’re blissfully unaware of your husband’s eyes; the ones which are never attached to you, but in that moment, don’t want to focus on anything else. Nobody misses the way he purposely sits between yourself and his teammate, fingers interlocked into yours tightly, the occasional kiss on the temple of your head.

You were his wife, after all.��

Carlos Sainz is a brilliant cook.

The intimacy between yourself and your husband had oddly grown within the past week. To start, his messages became more frequent, checking in when he couldn’t be at the house. Your pantry had stocked overnight, begging for your home cooking whenever he could be there to sample it. Most importantly, the interaction. You’d been hesitant to even let your husband touch you in the beginning. You had kept it simple, a hug before you’d headed off to bed in your room, (sleeping in the same bed as him had been that one-off.) His arms would find their way onto your waist if you were cooking, his fingers would tuck a lock of hair behind your ear when you found yourself engrossed in studies.

Your husband had been elated when you had spoken to him two days before he was due to leave for Qatar, announcing you would like to attend alongside him; it was also your father’s wishes to attend that race, wanting to signal to his fellow associates that he was okay, that you could pass on a message from your family. Charles’ eyes had glossed over with happiness, taking your hand in his own, pressing a kiss to the back of your knuckles.

You were ready for your entrance to the Paddock 72 hours later; after arriving in Qatar, you’d barely seen anything from the transport from his jet to the hotel. Your eyes had grown heavy the moment your feet were removed from their shoes, two large beds welcoming you with their soft blankets and heavy pillows. (He’d made sure to give you the sleeping space that you needed.) Charles’ heart had softened when he’d seen you curl into one bed. When he returned from the bathroom, you were out like a light.

It didn’t stop him from gently rubbing a makeup wipe over your features, knowing you’d regret your lack of attention to appearance in the morning. Hesitantly, he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline, one hand stroking over the back of your head before he returns to unpacking both yours and his suitcase.

You had been hesitant of attending the Paddock alongside Charles that morning, not because you were worried of the bombarding questions. No, this was the first time you had attended the paddock with a husband who seemed comforted by your presence. His heart felt gentle when he saw you look out of the front windscreen, eyes transfixed on the countless photographers standing by the barriers. Immediately, his hand finds yours, resting atop your thigh, the hot weather pleading for a cooler outfit.

“You don’t have to do this.” He removes his sunglasses, those ocean eyes finding your own. “You can wait here, or I can have somebody drive you back to the hotel now.” He promises, the worry flickering over his face. Your hand removes itself from his firm grasp, instead reaching forward and resting your hand on his bristled cheek.

“I’m okay.” You promise him, thumb dancing over his soft cheekbone. He offers you a soft smile, eyelashes fluttering as your face gets closer to his; you have no panic leaning over the console of the hire-car, gently pressing a warm kiss to the cheek your hand wasn’t resting upon. You can’t help but hesitate when you pull back from his face, lingering within mere millimeters of his lips for a long moment; you could just lean forward, press your lips to his and give into all those nights you had dreamed of. But this wasn’t a dream; this was your husband whom you needed to fix a relationship with first.

Charles isn’t going to lean forward and kiss you himself, not until the signals you are giving him are crystal clear. Instead, he presses his forehead close to yours, tips of your noses gently brushing against one another before he steps out of the car, and you’re quick to follow.

This time, he doesn’t walk in silence, ignoring your presence. Instead, as the two of you flash your paddock passes towards the security guards, he’s openly commenting on different happenings around Media Day, both of you falling into giggles upon seeing Toto Wolff’s broken arm; he was truly beginning to become an icon at the local emergency room. You’re happy. Subdued in a bubble alongside your husband, hands interlocked as you work your way through the paddock.

You’ve never experienced such a harsh blow to reality when you see an all-too-familiar figure lurking outside of the Williams Racing building. Her hair is shorter, her skirt is skimpier and a ghastly color. However, she still looks beautiful. She is undoubtedly the woman you’ve fought and lost your husband’s affection from, his mistress.

Charles seems to clock less than a moment after you do, both bodies freezing upon notifying her presence. You seem to have a quicker reaction time, despite being in the presence of a world-class Formula Driver. Immediately, you rip your grasp from Charles’ hand, showing him no emotion as you step away and into the Ferrari Building. You’re fortunate enough to avoid most of your fathers’ colleges, only once having to stop to give a sympathizing message of your mothers’ passing, the words being used are minute compared to the ache in your heart for her presence.

When you reach the top of the dark stairs, almost certain you can hear Charles’ voice below you. He’s searching for you now, but instead is overwhelmed by the amount of people in his presence. You’re able to sneak through the makeshift corridor, finding a large number ’55,’ pressed onto the door. You don’t even think, opening the door to a very tanned, very shirtless Carlos Sainz.

He's so… toned. The natural light from the window is reflecting beautifully onto his chest, broader than you’d last seen during your adventures at sea. His shorts hang low on his waist, making no attempt to shift his body despite your appearance. Instead, his dressing is overtaken by his concern for your face, immediately dropping the shirt fisted in his right hand, taking your gentle face in between both of his palms. You didn’t even realize the tears resting on your cheeks, the fear glossed over in your eyes that you’d ever trusted Charles.

Carlos doesn’t need to ask; he saw her on his own entry to the Paddock. Admittedly, he had to double-take; surely Charles wouldn’t have the audacity to bring his mistress to the other side of the world. He didn’t bother to glance in her direction too long, instead greeting the Ferrari team, excusing himself to go and get changed for their upcoming press appearances. In this moment, he’s held you against his bare chest, hushing you gently as one hand threads through your hair. Your mind is overwhelmed, from seeing your husband’s mistress, but from being pressed against his oh-so warm chest.

You don’t even realize, but your palms are resting on his chest, his skin so soft beneath your touch. Carlos gently hushes you, tilting your head up to face him, still cradled in his grasp. He could so easily reach forward, claim you there and then, but he realizes in that moment, under your soft touch and those doe eyes, you are the one who has claimed him. After a moment, he pulls back, motioning for you to follow him towards the couch, littered in Spanish-themed cushions and the enormous chili plushie you had bought him several months ago.

You can’t help the slight disappointment when Carlos eventually slips on his Ferrari Polo; however, you are interested when he reaches for his small fridge, pulling out a neat lunchbox, motioning for you to grasp it whilst he reaches for another. Curiosity takes the better of you, gently unclasping the lid of the Tupperware box. A beautiful aroma overtakes your senses, a carefully crafted meal nestled into the lunchbox. The Spaniard can’t help but grin at your reaction; sometimes something as simple as a homemade meal could lift your spirits.

And that’s how you spent the next forty-five minutes, sat on the sofa of Carlos Sainz’s driver room, the man sat on the floor as the two of you exchanged bites of food. There’s one particular moment where you offer him a spoonful of your lunchbox, watching as he arches his torso towards you.

It’s almost…sensual, the way his lips wrap around the top of the spoon, maintaining sole eye contact as he retracts his mouth from the utensil, letting his tongue trace around his lips for a chase of the taste. He knows what he’s doing; in his mind, all he wants is to show how adored you could be, to show he could be everything your husband never was.

It isn’t until Charles is finally free from the bombarding questions of his sponsors that he finally locates you in Carlos’ room. The man isn’t oblivious; he can see that the two of you have grown undeniably close. He can’t bring himself to say anything on the matter. He knows, in his heart of hearts, he has no right to make any assumptions; he was the one who had spent hours with a mistress, after all. Silently, he opens the door to the driver’s room, your figure perched upon the sofa, a grin plastering your soft features. You looked happy.

You looked like the most beautiful girl he had seen in his life.

You acknowledge his presence after a few moments, standing up from your place on the sofa, insisting the man tries Carlos’ cooking. It takes less than a few blinks of your eyes for him to submit, taking the spoonful off your utensil, making a comment towards his teammate that he would have to give him some lessons at some point. The man says nothing, simply nodding in a passive agreement.

There’s a sharp call for Charles after he wipes his mouth on the back of his hand. He shoots both you and his teammate an apologetic look before he makes his way down the corridor, gently closing the door behind him as to give you a sense of privacy; the last thing he wanted was to have you plastered all over social media pages when he knew it would purely be used for publicity purposes.

You’re still smiling when the door closes, your back to Carlos’ front. “He seems to like you-“

You were destined to never finish that sentence. Within a split moment, there are warm hands, rough hands resting on either side of your waist, twisting your body within his grasp. He takes two steps backwards, enough pacing to have your back pressed against the closed door: the coldness of the wood contrasting violently with the heat radiating off your best friend.

He couldn’t hold any emotion. Carlos Sainz wears his heart on his sleeve. That much is adamant, from the way his text messages were drafted, to the way he tilts his head, meshing his lips to your own.

They’re surprisingly soft; there’s nothing soft in the way his hands grasp at your waist, the way his body is pressing so deeply into yours. Yet, as his lips continue to entrance yours, they feel like clouds; a gentle stroke of a paintbrush. His artistry continues when his kisses get deeper, one of his hands enclosing yours, bringing it to rest around his shoulders, pushing the two of you closer together. Your other hand is interlocked by his, being stretched above your head, pinned to the door you’re resting upon.

He's waited so long for this, before lunch, before your moment in the sea. He’s wanted this since the moment you walked into the Ferrari Paddock alongside your father, you must have been etched into his heart.

Carlos isn’t thinking; his kisses are becoming rougher, one hand blindly reaching for your leg, almost bare from the shorts you had opted from your wardrobe earlier. He guides it to rest upon his hip, grunting when he can feel his hardened crotch press between your legs. His reality comes crashing down when he feels the cool band on your fingers entangling in his hair. Your wedding ring.

Ragged breaths, panting, he pulls away from your lips, pressing his forehead to your own in a sheer plea of comfort. Both your breaths are synchronized, both grasping for some form of air in the room.

“You’re everything, Mariposa.” He whispers, closing his dark eyes, enjoying his moment, taking every opportunity to imprint the feeling of your body, of your lips into his mind. He prays this won’t be the last time he holds you this way.

Carlos Sainz is a fast texter.

In the moments after you had shared the intimacy, hidden away in his driver’s room, he’s gone into a sheer panic. He’d overstepped, he’d made an advancement on you at your most vulnerable. When he had left for the press alongside your husband, he didn’t have a single chance to pull you aside, not when you had left the moment after the duo had been pulled into their press conferences. Simply, you were not waiting around to catch glimpses of the mistress, still proudly flocking around the Paddock as if it was her home.

It had taken a matter of moments to request a car home, having slipped out of the Ferrari building, talking to one of your father’s colleagues about your departure. Silently, you paced out of the building, a direct beeline towards the car park, head down from the ever-present photographers.

You hadn’t expected a text from either your husband or his teammate, considering that they were both in press conferences until further notice. However, when you had felt and grasped the device in your shorts, you had immediately noticed the soft vibrations, pulling your device out of your pocket, your eyes being illuminated by the screen of your phone. Two text messages. One from your father, one from Carlos. Your attention is drawn to the latter, curious on what your best friend has to say.

11:32: Carlos Sainz:

I’m really, truly sorry if I’ve made you uncomfortable. I haven’t seen Charles yet to let him know you left. You don’t have to see me again if you do not wish.

11:36: You

It wasn’t you at all, I promise! I was aware that Charles’ mistress was about, I couldn’t stick about for that.

Carlos messages you back, almost immediately. You’re confused, considering he is due to be in press alongside Charles. He could be having a break; he could have completely skipped out on several media appearances.

11:38: Carlos Sainz

I wish you could have stayed longer. I meant what I said, every single word. Please let me know if you need anything.

11:41: You

I know, C. I appreciate it, even if I express it terribly. I’ll always be here for you, too. Always.

You never get to see the next message that Carlos sends to you. Instead, your phone starts ringing, an incoming call from your father. You’re certain that the chauffeur won’t mind you taking the call whatsoever, holding the device to your ear as your father’s tone fills the void, his words becoming numbing as he runs through the details of your mother’s funeral, the tears in his voice beginning to swell heavily.

Charles had left the Paddock as soon as he got notice of your departure. He hadn’t bothered to message, his sole focus being on returning to the hotel, to find out what on Earth had happened to you. He was fortunate enough to escape the wandering eyes of his ex-mistress, how on Earth she had gotten into the Paddock for that race was beyond him, especially since he had ceased contact from that day.

The car arrives swiftly outside of the hotel; immediately, Charles is rushing through the back entrance, beelining for the staircase; waiting for an elevator at this moment would be too much. Within moments, he’s fumbling for his key card, pushing the door open, his heart shattering at the vision in front of him.

You, his wife, sat on the edge of one of the king-size beds; your head is buried into your hands, heavy sobs racking through your body. He can see the goosebumps littering your skin, the solemn shakes running through you, the trauma of losing somebody you cared about so deeply, combined with a cocktail of emotions from your entrance to the Paddock had become too much.

He doesn’t care about boundaries, not at this point. Immediately, Charles has crouched in front of you, his gentle hands reaching to grasp around your wrists. There’s a flinch at the sudden contact; your skin had overheated from the sheer energy of crying; your husband’s cool touch was a stark contrast which made you shiver. Delicate touches pull your hands away from your eyes. They’re so red, so swollen. Had he ever made you react like that from his own actions. The Monegasque doesn’t want to question that right now, he can’t even bring himself to look into your broken eyes. Instead, he feels as your arms wrap around his neck, hiding your face in his neck, craving for somebody to just…hold you.

Your husband has no issue in that desire; he lets you remain like that, Charles on his knees whilst you cling to him, the tears dampening through his shirt. One hand slides across your back, kneading gentle circles into your skin. At some point, you move onto the bed, the man lying back on the soft furnishings whilst you rest your head on his chest, arms encircling you as if he could hold you together, until the storm in your mind passes.

When the tears subside, you finally find the energy to look up to your husband. He hadn’t reached for his phone, tried to find some form of entertainment whilst he held you to his chest for hours. Instead, his gaze had been fixed upon you, brushing a gentle stroke over your cheek, his fingers dancing against your skin, brushing away the tension from heavy lines and sobs. When your eyes do open, you’re greeted with a soft smile, Charles leaning down to press a kiss to the top of your head.

“Do you need some water?” His concern is to bring you back up to health; now the tears have stopped, he can do this. “I can order some food; would you like that?” His voice is so quiet, as if a simple loud sound could shatter through your veins. You can’t muster up more than a nod, your body becoming colder when Charles’ gently shifts away, sitting up so he can reach for the telephone. His voice is so mesmerizing, speaking down the line as he requests different foods; he doesn’t mind how much he orders, if he can coax you into even eating a little, the man will be satisfied.

The call finishes, but the man doesn’t sink back down into his previous position. Instead, whilst he remains sat up, Charles guides you to join him, your body still aching from your emotional breakdown. He murmurs under his breath as he pulls you into his lap, your body is tense until his strong arms wrap around your waist, the warmth instantly allowing you to relax, lean back into his firm chest.

“I’ve wanted to speak to you for a few days.” His voice is soft, but the phrase causes you to feel a sharp panic dance down your chest. Surely, this can’t be good. The relationship had evolved from barely speaking to intimate conversations within a span of two weeks. You try, try so hard to keep a clear mind as your husband continues to address you.

“How I’ve acted…how I treated you, all that time-“ He must stop himself, trying not to let his own emotion overpower his words. “I’m never going to be able to take it all back, and I will never be able to stop apologizing for it.” His whispers, his eyes growing misty with regret. “I will never forgive myself for how I treated you, nor do I ever expect you to forgive me. But…I want to try. I want to try and spend the rest of my days as you husband. I know…it won’t be overnight, but I’ll do anything, anything for you.”

The tears are rolling down your own cheeks now; never, in your wildest dreams, did you expect for Charles to speak those words of affirmation to you. His hand moves cautiously, to your face, wiping the tears which were pooling across your features.

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispers, letting one of his hands remain on your cheek. The man leans forward, pressing gentle butterfly kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose…he pauses, mere inches from your lips. He wants to kiss you; he’d promised himself he wasn’t going to push you; his mind and his heart are complete opposites.

His mind goes into overdrive when you lean forward and press your lips to his own. They’re salty, slightly chapped, but undeniably something he has been craving for oh-so-long. Charles is immediately kissing you back, his grip around you tightening, keeping your body close to his own. Carefully, he shuffles the two of you back into a lying position, never once breaking the kiss, tumbling back onto the mattress.

Of course, you don’t miss his grumble of annoyance when the food eventually arrives.

Carlos Sainz is a gentle kisser.

An autumn breeze was strong on the dreaded day; the funeral had rolled around way too soon for your liking. Rows of family connections, close and distant friends lined the outside of the cemetery, eyes all transfixed on the black hearse rolling into view. Murmurs were pressed into silence, a bitter air all-too present as the ivory coffin was removed from the vehicle. Your elder brother and two cousins were to assist in carrying the piece into the church. Plans were soon suspended when the eldest of your siblings collapsed into tears, head in his hands upon the sheer realization that this was it.

Your father is desperately looking around, practically praying outside a place of worship that the eldest could pull himself together; it’s impossible. Whilst one of your arms is occupied, holding the hand of your young sister, the other gently wraps around his torso, comforting him in the ways he had done for you when you were nothing more than a young girl in messy braids and mismatched socks.

His wife stood on his right-hand side, adamant on consoling the man as you were, a caring hand running across his back. Your husband stood next to your sister, her childish eyes blinking in confusion; just like you, she had never seen her brother this inconsolable.

Charles feels a pain wash through him, he wants nothing more than to help his dear family through this moment. Maybe the act he was playing for so long was just a way of shielding himself from caring. Now he had bared his soul towards you, pleading for a second chance, the man wanted to be there for you, in every sense of the word.

He murmurs something incoherently, stepping away from your side, leaning towards your father’s ear. Whatever he mumbles is met with a sharp nod, a firm pat on the shoulder in confirmation. Your husband keeps a firm gaze on the coffin, not catching your own eyes as he walks towards the piece to join your cousins. There’s a quick whisper between the men, before the ivory is shuffled from the car, resting on their suit-clad shoulders. Silence falls over the attendants as your mother is carried into the church, immediate family following closely behind. Hesitantly, your eyes look to the crowding people, and as if by fate, you see his dark eyes, the fluffy curls brushed back to conform. He shouldn’t look that good in a dark suit.

Most noticeably, his gaze isn’t fixed on the church, on the six men carrying your mother. It’s transfixed on you.

The service is beautiful, if you can describe it like that. Flowers are placed atop of your mother’s coffin, the service of words correlating to her soul, the hymns sung were always her favorite when you had frequented church as a young girl. However, there’s a turning point. When the priest begins to speak of her dear children, tears pool in your lower lash-line. You want to take the time for yourself, to mourn, but louder sobs are emitting from next to you; the youngest child is beginning to realize her mother is truly gone.

You’re torn; pulling her towards you would only make you cry harder; you had already seen your father and brother fall apart, silently knowing you would have to be the one to wait by the door, thanking the copious guests for attending. Her tears are suddenly quietened when you see her gently shuffled into Charles’ lap; despite the estranged relationship for the past twelve months, he’d always had a soft spot for your sister, she reminded him of when Arthur was young. Whilst her tears turn softer, he runs a hand over her back, letting the young girl rest her heavy head in his sternum.

The open gap in the seating allowed for you to shuffle closer towards your husband, his free arm wrapping around your torso. You had to remain sitting up straight; his presence right now would have to be enough for your comfort. To any unassuming eye, you would probably look like a family, the crowds of attendants would have no idea of the true story behind your marriage. Even on the darkest days, the narrative was played well.

When the service draws to a close, final prayers are spoken. The first to rise are your father and brother, both clinging to one-another as they must leave the building. Silently, you pull yourself away from your husband’s grasp, smoothing the skirt of your dress. Charles remains seated, your sister practically passing out atop of him. Today had been a heavy day for a child, after all.

There are rows of people pausing to console you on your loss whilst you stand at the door of the church; friends you had known for oh-so-long, members of the Scuderia Ferrari team; you had never seen Fred Vasseur cry, but the redness of his eyes told you something completely different as he took one of your hands in his, squeezing it in apology.

The pews filter out silently, a large group of the guests making their way back to your father’s home, the wake soon to begin, a blessing and want of your late mother. Sharp footsteps are emitted through the church, the penultimate duo being your husband and sister. He was still carrying her, head resting on his shoulder, almost completely asleep. Charles smiles at finally seeing you, using his free hand to run across the back of your head.

“I’m going to take her back.” Charles explains to you. He understands you don't need the pressure of looking after her atop of everything else bound to come your way. “Let me know when you’re done here, please?” Silently, you nod, no hesitation needed as he leans forward, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, bidding you farewell as he paces out of the church, holding your sister tightly in comfort.

You believe that’s everybody, ready to collect your belongings and thank the priest for a heart-warming farewell. Before you can even think to turn around, there’s a light cough, emitting you to spin on your heel.

He’s there. Still clad in his designer suit, hair pushed back behind his ears. Undeniably, Carlos Sainz looks good in any situation. He holds your bag in one hand, the other reaching out to clasp around your wrist. You gasp at the warm skin pressing to your own, heat radiating through your body. The man leans down, letting his lips brush against your own, a sweet feathering brush pressing onto you. Carlos wanted to be there for you, more than ever on what would be the hardest day.

Seeing Charles take that position had made his blood boil.

His grip on you remains tight as he leads you out of the church and towards his own car, parked in the most secluded section of the lot. When his grip falters to hold your hand instead, he doesn’t aim to correct it, instead only holding tighter. He only removes his grasp to unlock his car, sliding himself into the driving seat, pushing the recliner back as far as it would go. When the space is present, he guides you to rest atop of his lap, arms tightening around your waist as he lets the door close, bodies pressed together tightly.

“Is this okay?” He murmurs, keeping your faces so close together. The built-up emotion, the desire since your last kiss had built a fire in your stomach, not so much as speaking before pressing your lips to his own. Whilst your own movements had become desperate, craving for some form of emotional release, his remained feather-light, one hand tangled into your hair, the other resting firmly on your waist.

His lips are soon ghosting over your cheek, fluttering across your jawline and landing on your neck, small whines emitting from your lips as he seeks to trace his tongue over your sweetest spot. The sensation across your body, the hot touch of his skin and an undeniable bulge now settling between your legs.

There’s a sudden realization that you needed to go home. Being with Carlos was the affection you desired, your heart knows however that right now, your family needs you. Hesitantly, you pull away from the man’s lips, feeling utterly guilty for the pleading look in his eyes as you rest your forehead against his own. He could never hate you for it, though. In his eyes, you could never draw that feeling from him. You don’t need to say anything, he knows.

“I’ll drive you back.” He murmurs, pressing one final kiss to your lips before allowing you to slide into the leather passenger seat.

The drive to your father’s home is almost silent; there’s an occasional rev of the engine, various horns from different cars along the highway. A part of you always prays that each drive with the Spaniard could last forever, you could drive into the distance and live happily ever after. The fairy-tale is soon dissolved when you pull to the driveway, hearing the engine of the car cease. Your eyes find Carlos’ side profile, still transfixed on the road ahead.

“Are you coming in?” You ask gently. He sighs, the grip on his steering wheel becoming tighter.

“I can’t see you that close to him, Mariposa.” He murmurs, finally finding the courage to look you in the eyes. “Not when I want to be that close to you.” One hand finds its way off the wheel, entwining your fingers together, peppering light kisses against your knuckles. “Please call me when you go back. I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you too.” You whisper, leaning to press a kiss to his stubbled cheek. In that moment, Carlos Sainz is your savior. He’s your truth.

Carlos Sainz is a liar.

Your knuckles had turned white from the grasp on your phone, you didn’t want to believe anything you were seeing. What was supposed to be an impromptu browse of Twitter whilst waiting for your husband to finish in the en-suite, had turned into a deep dive through a certain hashtag, having seen information spread on a certain Ferrari driver.

It had started as a simple few tweets, some fans and gossip pages reckoning they had seen the driver in an exclusive club, some random blonde sitting on top of him. The photos came second, though the angle was skewed, the quality too weak to see who was there. The final nail was the video; Carlos’ hand placed on her waist, how he had done to you mere hours ago, his mouth pressing against hers, clearly nothing else on his mind.

Granted, you knew you had no right to feel the anger you did; after all, you were married, Carlos was a single man, free to do as he desired. Yet, your rage was fuelled by the romantic, now seemingly empty promises he had made you; how you were his everything, how he would treat you better than Charles ever did. He was no different than Charles Leclerc, and as your fumbled fingers reached to his contact, your rage felt inclined to tell him that.

The phone rings once, twice, three times. You’re set to hang up, leave a particularly nasty text message to the man before the line connects. Immediately, your eardrums are overtaken by the loud pulse of a nightclub, some feminine laughter almost directly on top of him.

“Are you okay?” He asks. Clearly, he’s now intoxicated, his accent is always thicker when he is. You hear another voice, telling him to hang up the phone and to come and dance with her. “Hey- are you there?”

“I’m here.” You snap; why do you feel this enraged? You must have done so when you first saw Charles with his mistress; that had become such a common occurrence that the fire in your stomach must have eventually drained. “And clearly, you’re busy with the woman climbing all over you.”

“Fuck- you left me hanging!” He retorts, drunken mind clearly pressing against any form of sober thought. “You went back to your husband. Left me with nothing. Fuck the funeral.” He snaps, clearly now becoming enraged with the entire situation, with the fact he had been caught out. The words pressed through the speaker of your phone and emitted a wave of sobs from your stomach, immediately pressing the red button on your device.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t in love with you. He just liked the distraction.

Of course, as fate would have it, the moment that your tears began again was the moment Charles had left the bathroom. He’s dressed in just a pair of boxers, chest bare and tone after his warm shower. The sound of the door opening caused you to turn to the source. His eyes widen, scampering towards you, cradling you in his arms, bare chest against your cheek. Silently, you sob into his body for the third time that day, wanting nothing more than for every form of pain to stop.

“Hey, come on.” He whispers, arms circling your body, pulling you tight against him. He thinks that seeing you cry will get easier each time, that the pain in the pit of his stomach won’t continue to eat him away. However, it never gets easier; he hates seeing you cry, every single time. “It’s been a long day, yeah? Let’s get some sleep, baby.”

The nickname sounds foreign on his tongue, though neither of you question it. If anything it causes more emotion to flicker through your body, the fact that your estranged husband was finally beginning to give you. Silently, he guides the two of you into the large bed, cradling you to his chest as he had done whilst in Qatar. Sleep and emotion overtake you, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder as a ‘thank you,’ before drifting into a state of slumber.

The sleep means you miss a vital update from the Twitter threads you had been closely following earlier.

‘Carlos Sainz leaves exclusive club ALONE, despite dating rumors arising with mystery blonde.’

Carlos Sainz is your best friend.

You returned to the following day; the entire time remaining at your father’s house had consisted of nothing but tears. You had been especially concerned for your sister, watching the way she had clinged to Charles when the duo was saying their fond farewells. After a tight hug from each family member, your husband hand interlinked your fingers together, guiding the two of you to his own car, each free hand carrying along the suitcases.

The first hour of the drive home had been quiet, the buzzing streets had morphed into greenery, the sun beginning to set across the coast. Your eyelids couldn’t find it to grow heavy, having done nothing but sob and sleep for the past twenty-four hours. Instead, your focus turned to the radio, a familiar song trickling out of the speaker, one you hadn’t heard in almost eighteen months.

“Is this…” You ask, fingers reaching towards the dial, turning the volume up slightly. Behind his sunglasses, Charles grins. You hadn’t expected him to recognise the song, let alone be aware of where he recognised it from.

“Our first dance.” Your husband laughs, both nodding your head to the music. One hand on the wheel, he reached out his other hand to grasp yours on his own, a gentle squeeze passing through each hand. “We’ll have to dance to it again, properly next time.” He promises to himself, eyes focused on the road as he continues to drive you both home.

It’s almost dark by the time you have arrived back at your driveway. The stones are dipped in the darkness, the only illumination being from the headlights of Charles’ iconic vehicle. Your eyes flicker towards the doorstep, convinced the sleep is playing tricks on your mind; why on earth was there a figure standing on the doorstep to your house? They were slim, feminine, holding a cream envelope in one hand, a designer bag resting atop the other.

The familiar feeling of who she was began to nestle in your stomach. Surely, it couldn’t have been her; even your husband would not have the audacity to invite her to the house, right after you had returned home from what was quite possibly the saddest moment of your life. It couldn’t be her, even if every sign pointed towards the truth, you’d begin to search for the tiniest detail; her hair was too short. Your stomach snaps when you realize it’s the identical haircut from the Paddock mere days ago.

“What on earth-“ You hear your husband begin to speak, turning off the engine to the car. He looks over to your figure, but you show no emotion, no reaction on the exterior. Immediately, he has stepped out of the car, violently slamming the door behind him, causing you to snap out of the trance the woman had placed you upon.

Your eyes fixed upon Charles, his mistress trying to reach out into his touch. She’d pressed the envelope into his hand, continuing to speak. The words were clear through the thin glass of the car’s windscreen, divorce, pictures, evidence.

You couldn’t stick around to watch this activity play out. Immediately, you reach out for your phone, breathing uneven as you scroll through the contact list, searching for his name. Despite the last twenty-four hours, you were not too sure who else to call. It takes less than a moment for him to answer, your words rambling and falling over one another, pleading for him to come and collect you. He speaks firmly, commanding you to stay in the car, he would be there as soon as possible.

Charles is so deep in conversation, pleading for his mistress to reconsider, that he doesn’t see you slip out of the car, stepping down the driveway into the awaiting car of Carlos Sainz. He makes no intention to show you affection when first stepping into the vehicle, his only intention to get you out of the situation as soon as possible. Whilst silence filled the space between you both, you had sent a text to your husband, confirming your disappearance.

23:01: You

I’m so sorry, I can’t be there when she is, not anymore. I’ll be back at the house tomorrow. Thank you for everything.

There’s no response. If you’re completely honest, you were not expecting anything else, not whilst he was engrossed in conversation. The street is quiet as you pull into Carlos’ driveway. Saying nothing, the man simply removes his keys from the ignition, before leaning over your frame to open your door, ever the gentleman. Of course, his eyes catch yours as he leans back, creating a deep gaze for oh-so-long. Carefully slipping out of his gaze, you leave the car, walking up the steps to his apartment, the door opening for your arrival.

It's homely. Clearly lived in. Shoes are thrown across the entrance mat, coats hanging in the rack. Although it is primarily basic, a little bare, there’s touches around the complex which warm your heart; a photograph of the man with his sisters and father, a helmet you immediately recognise as Lando Norris’ resting atop of a bookshelf. There’s fine wine glasses resting atop of his coffee table; clearly ready for their usage before your untimely call.

The details become irrelevant the moment you feel his warm arms circle around your middle; the rising of your hoodie lets his body heat radiate onto yours. Carlos doesn’t need to say anything, his face comes towards the joint between your neck and your shoulder, using his nose to brush your hair away, exposing the skin he craves to mark.

“Mariposa.” He whispers, hiding his expression in your soft skin. “I can explain her, I can explain who she is, I didn’t-“

This time, it’s you who rolls around in Carlos’ touch, your arms entwining around his neck, pulling his lips to touch yours. The Spaniard does not need convincing, his grip on your waist immediately tightening, pushing your bodies closer together, if that was even humanly possible. This time, when his lips begin to trail down your neck, there’s no hesitation left in your mind, letting the man dance across your skin, leaving small bites, trails of his tongue against you.

You realize it’s you, making a small whine as he pulls away from your body, catching his breath whilst his tanned arms reach to the bottom of his shirt, exposing his chest once more. This time, your fingers fumble to find the hem of your hoodie, pulling the clothing atop of your head, exposing the laciest bra Carlos had ever seen. There’s a grunt from the back of his mouth as he darts forward, one rough palm scooping your breast from the lingerie, his mouth immediately finding your nipple, tongue tracing across the sensitive skin whilst his stubble rubs against your exposed flesh.

He doesn’t let up, not even when your legs go weak. His mouth remains firmly attached, using his arms to instead scoop you into his grasp, your whining sheer pornography to his ears whilst he carries you into his bedroom.

He will simply ruin you for every other person, and god forbid if he lost you now.

You realize hours later, somewhere between your post-orgasm haze and the combined warmth of Carlos’ hoodie and his firm arms that best friends did not have intense, body-numbing sex in the middle of the night, specifically when one of them was married, the other one a close friend of her husband. Yet, it somehow feels normal, as if this had been the longest impending explosion. Of course, you had explained to the man the reasoning for calling him out so late, for him to simply hush you, promising you would have never been a burden to him. The further questions of what is to come next are pushed to the back of your mind.

Your sleeping state misses two key moments. The first? The slight camera shutter from a phone as Carlos places his device back on the nightstand, snuggling down into the blankets, his dream to hold you whilst he slept finally arising.

The second? Your phone finally buzzed with a response from your husband, unable to sleep without knowing you were in the large house alongside him.

02:51: Charles Leclerc

I’m in love with you.

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover @barnestatic @omgsuperstarg @chimchimjiminie16 @caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog @junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt @crowdthena @screemqueen @lewislvr @styles-sunflower @itspaddockprincess @adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins @formulanando @lorarri @christianpulisic10 @gaypoetsblog @thisbitxhs-blog @goldsainz @ru-kru @magical-spit @hrlzy @nooshytushie @gaslysainz @marvel-at-stucky @sugarvibez

#juliana's fic rec #my fave fanfic #cl16 fic #cs55 fic #my fanfic commentary #I'M CRYING THIS IS SO GOOD

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blocksruinedme · 1 year ago

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22. describe your writing process from scratch to finish.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

44. any writing advice you want to share?

22) my writing process!

be living my life, possibly babysitting or driving (maybe talking about blorbos)

think "hey what if...."

become possessed

from there it splits Version A - the fastest, and rarest, one

A1. get to my couch (or a different laptop place, or a notebook if desperate)

A2. Frantically let words spill out of me, often wishing my fingers could keep up with my brain. It's sometimes almost painful, needing to get the words out

A3. edit for a variable amount of time an post

My first published mcyt was like this - watched ranchers in the crossover at 11am, ideas marinated all day, came up with "what if tango's the key to fix fwhimmy" walking to my car at 5pm, started writing like 5:15 and published at maybe 1am. almost 5k long. Insane. that was MY EX STOLE MY SOULMATE.. | Empires SMP S2 1.19 (rated T) and I'm told also With Their Knife to His Throat (rated M) but I legit have next to no memories of writing that one, I think it was 48 hours from idea to published (4k).

B - normal version. Note: all of this is interspersed with working on a lot of other stories

B1: Have an idea, probably frantically but maybe it builds

B2: Think about it a lot, maybe ideas in a little notebook if they are coming at the wrong times.

B3: write down bits of prose as they come, do a lot of outline in gdocs.

B4: start writing from the beginning based on outline but also what feels right - in any given moment, i know more about the story than i did when i wrote the outline

B5: if i’m lucky write chronologically and work through the outline and add things. Often a section isn’t coming and i skip ahead. If it’s not happening, it’s not time for it to happen. To write the way I really want to, I need to know how it ends, so I can have the story build.

B6: probably fuss a lot

B7: beg people for help and to tell me it’s okay to publish

B8: stress a lot about if it’s good enough and about minor changes i could make

Optional: B9: put it down for 1-7 months (i just published a fic from january, and two of my bang fics are from september and november)

B10: publish it pretty much the same as it was in B8

(I deleted C by adding B9 but already wrote D)

D: Probably just the once

D1: See a prompt for driving after dark and get unexpectedly interested

D2: write 2k of notes while trying to get another story done

D3: Give myself 6 days to write those 2k of notes and then it’s 20k and my longest fic ever and oops needs a lot of typo fixes: The Key to His Problem (rated E)

The editing etc process:

During every version of this I have a gdoc shared with people and am begging for advice. If i can’t decide on a word when i’m writing and have some flow going, i say “they were all [very] surprised” and leave a comment (or just the brackets) to come back later and fix it. THIS IS MUCH OF HOW I WRITE FAST. The first draft is to get out it out of my head, the second draft is to get it into the reader’s head. SOMETIMES the flow is perfect and i don’t need to do this, but like, idk, 10% of the time?

A lot of the words in [brackets] will wind up staying as is, but it gives me permission to move on without feeling like i’ve settled.

Editing sometimes involves a lot of of editing passes, sometimes just because i want to work on it and don’t want to write. This can mean the early parts get soooo much more love.

Sometimes I print out a fic that has gone through a set of editing and do more on paper. It can be great. I just see the story differently, and it mostly keeps me from adding huge amounts, and i catch errors i didn’t otherwise.

Usually i put up the ao3 draft a few days earlier and start adding tags and putting in my text (which i do in html) to look at it. The title often comes the day i publish, cause i wait till the end.

28. handwritten notes or typed notes?

typed unless i don't have my laptop. I started carrying around a pocket sized notebook in march and i'm onto my second one. I got it in a Japanese stationery store and got hooked, i have this line in many sizes, here's my pocket notebook -https://www.jetpens.com/Maruman-Mnemosyne-N184A-Twin-Ring-Memo-Pad-A7-Graph/pd/7379 I've written in this baby in the corner of a club cause i had ideas waiting at the bar for a drink.

44. any writing advice you want to share?

You have to get the words out. You have to get the words out. You have to get the words out.

Good words can be, often are, born of less good words.

Don't be afraid of editing! Great fiction generally comes from editing! Put down some fucking words even if you hate them and get to the next part. I do this, I am not preaching advice I don't take. I'll leave a comment sometimes to tell my future self I didn't think they were good words, I just needed them out. It's fine, I survive every single time.

If you don't need to edit, swell! But if you're stuck, just keep writing something -- or if that won't work, or you feel shitty, take a break. Work on another story, do something else, but if you're miserable and slamming your head against the wall, STOP! Don't hurt yourself! Because you shouldn't hurt, and because you'll associate writing more and more with hurt.

Get other people involved. Share snippets with your friends (if you've got an appropriate discord, make a channel for it!) Trade off reading with your writer friends. If you like my writing, know that not a single word I've ever published hasn't been read by multiple other people. My pre-fic writing was generally group works, so that's what feels normal. The idea of publishing with not even anyone to say "Hey Vee, this makes sense in your brain but not mine" is terrifying. You don't need to Have Serious Beta, it can just be cheerleading or really general "point out if anything is a big problem". I found out this week i am a "phenomenal cheerleader" -- your friends, or some kind soul on a discord, don't need to give you literary analysis to say "this part is cool, your fic is good, i hope you publish!"

Fandom is shared joy. Share your joy in every way - cheerleading others, getting other to share joy with you on your works, leave comments, leave kudos, reblog, make happy posts, keep the negativity to smaller spaces, SHARE THE JOY. I've been in fandom legit longer than some of you have been alive and it's always the joy, that's what it always comes back to. Hold onto the joy, that's what will last in your hearts. <3 <3 <3

#answering asks #me #my writing #writing advice #feels presumptuous to tag that but whatever #yes this is a months old ask but as i say i have to wait for the right time #and today's “woke up crying and need a certain kind of distraction”

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fullyanimated · 1 year ago

Text

ok i ended up writing a lot of tags so lets just do this instead

YOU'RE REALLY COOL AND I LOVED READING THIS!!! never seen anything so relatable in my life and i'm so happy you put this out

i'll put a bit about my experience here

mine are pretty rare but they have huge impact. a few months ago i got one who will remain unnamed (they're always totally secret because they're just for me and there can't be exceptions i don't make the rules), and that character and his values got me deeply reevaluating things i've forgotten to reevaluate, it made me cut out people i shouldn't have had in my life in the first place, my life was drastically changed after the obsession started for just being a fictional character. i actually didn't care about him much at first, didn't pay much attention to him, and after a couple weeks it crept in on me. it was kind of like

1. who?

2. huh look at him go

3. feels like a little obsession incoming... let's just curb this now

4. it's stronger this time. i'm sure it'll pass

5. just thinking about him sometimes in a normal, regular way is fine that's fine

6. oh i opened the floodgates

7. this is my [character] folder it has all the information you could possibly find online about him, i've personally read all the opened tabs several times and will be able to answer any and all questions and where i don't have facts i have headcanons aplenty

when it first started i hadn't been on antidepressants for a little while and well that had consequences and i needed a coping mechanism desperately. so during that time i was daydreaming like 80%-100% of the day, closer to 80% if i was with someone else at all that day, closer to 100% if not. there was literally nothing i would rather do than daydream. maybe do research on whatever i was incorporating so it would be accurate. and it helped a lot, i was happy in a time i would otherwise be extremely unhappy to put it like that. now it's just when i'm bored, if i need to cope but not so much i put on studio ghibli, and before sleeping as that's become routine (it goes level 1 cope: normal although intense hyperfixation, level 2 cope: constant daydreaming, level 3 cope: studio ghibli marathon to distract me so i'll stop constantly crying)

my daydreams are also ocxcanon in some way but it's usually just a name and some rough details and then i scratch everything except that every time i feel like it. say i'm feeling really angsty one day, well now she's made for that. say i want to explore a character trait, i have a character for that. some storylines last days, some a week, some just one daydream session. so i can do the most important scenes again and again but different each time. i also like lying down and closing my eyes and i'll usually do soft expressions, it helps with the immersion

hm yeah that's it brain feels done anyway thank youuu so much for this post i'm super super tired rn cause i had a major depression hit (which means i can't sleep because i'm scared of being alone with my thoughts) and this post got the dopamine flowing again✨💕

A Very Long, Personal [but positive] Ramble about Neurodivgerency and Character Hyperfixation

[u can ignore this if you want this is just an ADHD ramble - this is a kinda 'mask off' talk about ADHD, autism and my personal history with it all. I also talk about the upsides and downsides - and the importance of Hobie to me personally - I just wanna normalize this stuff lol]

a.k.a The story of how I sent from obsessing over him to HIM in 10 years (what a glowup on my part ik)

(I know a lot of peeps on here can feel self-conscious about being neurodivergent and character connection or whatever you wanna call it and so do I! So I wanted to write it out or just ramble for my own sake)

I don't know if it's obvious or not, but I LOVE HOBIE BROWN. I'm going to be completely candid - I think about him maybe 85 percent of the day if not more, and that's in no way an exaggeration.

No matter what I'm doing, there's a least one tab open in my brain thinking about him. It may not be the focus, but it's there.

That's just how I operate. And I've been this way for a LONG time. In fact, Hobie isn't my first 'total focus' character in Marvel.

I gain VERY deep hyperfixations on Marvel Characters, many lasting years. And there's nothing wrong with that - in fact it's rad!

!!!! ATTENTION: This is a whimsical care-free zone. For Happy Funny Folk !!!!!!!!!

Loki - My introduction to hyperfixation with characters

I don't know if this is surprising or you'd be like 'yeah u seem like the type' but I use to LOVE Loki. For YEARS.

I'm AuDHD and when I was 13/14, a freshman in HS, he was my hyperfixation. Eerything I do for Hobie, I did for Loki. I even had a Loki blog for like 3/4 years.

This was back in 2012-2013, when Avengers had just came out, and the MCU wasn't - well, the MCU yet.

But even back then, the Loki fandom was HUGE. I have no idea who was also on Tumblr back then but it was gigantic. Because movies weren't coming out every 3 months, it went on for yearrrrsssss. Art, edits, fics, everything.

I was soooo into, I loved Loki. Like Hobie, I probably thought about Loki maybe 85-90% of the day.

And sure I was doing a lot of other stuff but in the back of my head there was always the oc x canon storyline running in my head, or replaying scenes from memory and analyzing, or wondering and speculating about his character.

I mask very minimally or not at all - so everyone in my school knew me for it. And at the time I didn't know I was neurodivergent, but that didn't stop me - I was genuinely proud of it.

I wore Loki shirts to school and brought the Avengers DVD the day it dropped (this was back before streaming in ye' old 2013). I knew the Avengers movie back to front.

I saw Thor: The Dark World the day it released and SOBBED openly in the theater when he 'died'. (I remember my mom leaning over and whispering 'Do you wanna leave?' cause I seemed that upset lol)

And everyday I use to wear a necklace like this -

(credit IJSY on Etsy)

But in black, until one day I had it in my pocket and I sat on it in class and broke it in two. And people around me deadass were like 'daammnn I know that shit hurt in ur soul' cause I LOVED Loki and people knew it. And I didn't care if they did.

And I was like that for years. Overtime the Loki fandom fizzled out, especially around Phase 2 when things like GOTG first came out.

But I had a Loki fixation like maybe up until the show came out. And even then I've seen the whole thing (I ain't even like it that much 4.5/10) and I'm gonna watch the second one (I'm a fool)

But any way like to this day I still remember the first time I saw Loki and how it made me feel and I can like picture it in my head and I consider it a pretty influencial albeit mundane moment in my life.

And it was a very specific feeling but it was like as soon as I saw Loki's first scene in Avengers, I was plugged into the screen.

Other Hyperfixations - Charles Xavier, Peter Parker

All of my hyperfixations are on men in marvel and they have always been. There's been others I've cycled through, usually based on the newest movie. I even went through a LENGTHY and very in depth K-pop era (don't get me started).

Charles Xavier was a favorite of mine (from X-Men First Class), and I LOVE MCU Peter Parker. I still do. But none hit like Loki did.

There was never THAT feeling, like the fantastical electric feeling.

And I had never felt that feeling again UNTIL I SAW HOBIE (i wanna cry)

My fixation with HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN HOBIE BROWN (sorry I can't say his name only one time im too excited)

In the theatre my jaw genuinely dropped like I'm pretty sure I said 'OH NAH' to myself when i first saw him

Cause he was the prettiest character I've ever seen and I mean that

I didn't recognize what that feeling was until just now like YES, it's the same feeling. And I can't even describe it.

It's like every other character is normal but as soon as you lay eyes on this character for the first time it's like suddenly they're under your skin and curled up in your heart and you can FEEL them and the weight of them PHYSICALLY like not body wise but like astral personhood wise (do I sound unhinged)

And Hobie was just so pretty.

First of all - I didn't know he was black fgsbtgtuiuigs id never heard of spiderpunk

The wicks were what caught me off guard first. I know what wicks are, I've seen them before. But never animated.

And although Miles and Gwen and Pavi all look realistic - Hobie looked real to me. The high cheekbones and broad lips, the raised brow ridge and wide set eyes - he looked different from them, not just in art style but like - I DONT KNOW.

But that's how it is, you know what I mean. There was just something in my brain that was like 'he has meaning to me'. Like 'Idk who this man is, but whatever story he's writing, I'm reading it'.

That's what hyperfixation feels like.

And Hobie in specific held and holds so much more weight for me IN ADDITION.

I started falling out of my Loki phase around Thor: Ragnorok in 2017 - which is to say I was varying degrees of 'obsessed' with Loki for about 5 years.

Around that time, maybe starting in 2015, police brutality in NYC picked up. Me and my friends started getting more radicalized, going to protests, and identifying as communists, anarchists, or both.

One of my favorite things at the time was The Black Panther Party handbook I'd found at a second hand-book store. And for a while the Black Panther Party was a special interest of mine.

It made me really interested in the 70's, the civil rights movement, and the rise of punk that happened at the same time. Around this time, I made my first 'battle jacket' with a patch that said "Black Lives Matter, Bitch." and begged my parents for a pair of doc martens.

I didn't have Hobie back then, but I have him now. And he still resonates.

There was very much a time where I was that homeless, punk teen, angry at police, who wanted to be taken in by my favorite heros.

My admiration for Hobie comes from like - everything he is. Everything he stands for and represents. I don't need Hobie like I would've as a teen. But I know deep down the healing he could bring other people as a comfort character.

Or even in terms of a good political example, or great rep for alt black people. All of it.

That can't really be said for Loki. Or Charles Xavier (even if X-men is a race allegory), or even Peter Parker.

I grew up in NYC all my life, and I LOVE Spider-man, but I never felt Connected to Peter Parker as if we lived in the same city. I never felt something in common with Peter even if he was broke too.

Hobie's just different, y'know.

The Downsides

It's easy to feel really embarrassed by all this - and even now I'm feeling shy even describing how it feels.

Cringe culture gets in your head before you know it. I'm CONSTANTLY telling myself 'no, Hobie would understand that you're neurodivergent and this is you expressing yourself he wouldn't think youre cringe youre not cringe okay' As if my comfort character Hobie Brown thinking I'm cringe is like jksjfkjf the worst thing ever - i can't, i can't with myself.

I genuinely want to hug Hobie more than I want to huge most celebrities or influential real-life people.

I genuinely think hugging him would be more healing to my being than hugging the Pope or the Dhali Lama or something. I admire him and care about him but he's NOT REAL. It's PARASOCIAL And like duh, I know that - i'm grown as fuck.

Sometimes it can genuinely get you down that you care about this character-person and you can't be with them

It's like you miss them. But they're not real and you don't know them. And I know that sounds tragic or bizarre. But it's kinda just weird. It feels weird not in a sad way, but in a 'why brain?? why is this possible in my brain?? huh???' way.

Like...I know it's parasocial, but like it's not like a fan and a youtuber. He's not real, I'm not giving him money or hurting anyone. I know there's nothing to be ashamed of, but it's just WEIRD.

Like... I know my cat isn't a person and mentally I don't see them as a person and can't like analyze them like a full formed person even if I wanted to. But with Hobie - someone who is not a person - my brain can???? Like I've never met him but like... I can imagine a full conversation with him beginning to end in his place of residence I've also never seen before??????? SO WEIRD.

Also theres that thing of him running in the back of my head 85% of the time.

Even if I'm talking or cooking or something, I'm still daydreaming about him - I have ADHD. And during those times if i'm interrupted and someone give me a THIRD thing to do (besides thing 1 and thinking about Hobie) I get irritated. Because now I have less brain room for Hobie stuff.

The Upsides

Now reading all of this you might be like 'sib this sounds like nothing but a problem r u okay' but I PROMISE ITS REAL FUN SOMETIMES

And it's nothing to feel ashamed of!

Now the last part was just a list of downsides, but the upsides are more things I can do because of my hyperfixation on Hobie that makes me happy

Like I said, I daydream a LOT. Like a LOT.

Mainly with OCs You can probably tell how much I like OCs, and how much OCs - even others', mean to me. And usually, my OCs are the ones who I see the in-media universe through. I don't have to think about making an OC much, for me personally they come fully formed. Because of this, while I'm watching movies I begin to have involuntary daydreams of where I can add in an OC, or what they'd be doing. I typically only do this for Marvel though. Hardly DC or any other media other than maybe Batman. For Loki, it was a character named Asdisira Heimdaldottir who I shipped with him. And for Hobie it's Diane Pastors (Disco-Spider).

And although I am in completely control of what these daydreams are, they are vividly realistic, and can come on at different times.

For me, it's while listening to music mostly. But anything can trigger it - from a good text post, to hearing a phrase. And these daydreams are extremely vivid. Most times, you can visibly see when I'm doing it. My eyes will glaze over or start moving as if I'm trying to remember something. Sometimes I may say 'random' phrases. I say lines from the scene I'm in outloud. (Like saying 'How could you!' in an offended tone to myself, if that's what the character in the daydream is saying). I also make facial expressions. I can do it on purpose, like hitting play on a movie and resuming where I left off. Usually, when I do this, I close my eyes. I much prefer to sit and do it without multitasking, but I often do it while doing something else.

These daydreams connect, and arcs/storylines can go on for months/years.

Usually these stories go on for months in IRL time, and span the whole history of the character. For Loki, I probably has Asdisira for 4 years at most. Which is still a LONG time. These arcs can take different pathways, and I may imagine a scene multiple times - in different ways, but usuall the timeline of the oc x canon stays overall the same. Sadly, I almost never write these down. I would pull my hair out and theres not enough time in the world for me to write Diane and Hobie's full narrative down in detail that does it justice. I wanna make a bullet list of their narrative but i dont wanna clog dashes

I can genuinely use them as a comfort character.

I don't need this much now, and nowhere as much as I needed it in high school, but having the ability to daydream vividly at will about a character you feel safe and happy with - it's dope. Sometimes it really helps. There were a lot of times I imagined Loki comforting me or showing me kindness or helping me calm down. And sometimes you can do it just for fun. Like, as a treat. Whenever. I'm imagining Diane and Hobie at a fish n' chip shop right now. It's drizzling outside and it smells like oil and Hobie douses his chips in wayyy to much vinegar. It's like I'm there. Like...I just do that. thats rad as hell. (and I don't know how to describe it if you can't do it but hopefully others know how it is but it's VIVID, like wayyyy more than any dream.)

Literally a walking fact book about them.

I'm smug AS FUCK. I use to love when dudes in high school challenged me about the MCU cause I wore a shirt. Like, oh buddy. Oh pal. Just you fucking wait. I know this character better than you know your own mother - try me hoe. I love reading characters like a book and rewatching scenes, breaking down motives, watching their movements, looking for patterns and drawing connections to real world history, cultures, or psychology. I LOVE watching behavior and personality in the movies, and making conclusions about where they'd come from, reasonably, for the character, and how it affects them outside the scope of the film.

And most of all - It's Free Joy we're almost at the end I promise

This is long as all hell and unlike my other posts there really isn't a neat little character study but uhhh I wanna end with this I guess -

The best part of it, is it's free joy. Literally.

My brain can do something a lot of others can't. I can feel a kind a comfort and understanding with a character, I can entertain myself and come up with amazing stories that have mean to me.

I can make wonderful worlds and all that without lifting a finger, and hangout with my favorite characters just by going

(literally how i be sitting there - professor x headass)

I hoping the fucking multiverse with my mind.

But there's nothing cringe about that. And there's nothing cringe about drawing Hobie for hours on end, by himself or with an oc. There's nothing cringe about thinking about them a lot, or wanting to buy or make a lot of merch.

We aren't hurting anyone. It's not like a celebrity or a youtuber. Nothing we're doing is taboo or anything we're literally just being happy. And squealing about a character we deeply love

Like..Golly if more mfers in this world were squealing like us once a week maybe they'd be happier, you know what I mean. People be walking around mad as hell at the world...like why don't you look at this picture of Hobie and calm down? That's what makes me calm down.

__________________________________________________

Anyway uh this is LONG and not connected much to ATSV but if you read down this low THANK YOU so deeply it means a lot. If you relate to this at all I'd love to hear.

And if you think I'm unhinged. Absolutely. But that has nothing to do with this and ain't nothing wrong about it, in the words of megan the stallion... 'ah'.

I leave you with this pic of Hobie goodbye :)

im using my magic autism powers to hold his hand :) now im giving him a hug im having fun

#autism #actually autistic #i stopped seeing a guy because i realised how incredibily inferior he was to my comfort character #also im gonna watch those spiderverse films #is that what theyre called?#i was gonna watch them 'soon' but i mean when did the first one come out?#a few years ago or smth?#'soon'#but now i gotta see your guy #gotta appreciate him in action and context #for all the good work he does #the picture at the end is great #he looks safe

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felinedetached · 4 years ago

Text

Fandom Ableism in the MCYT Community

[Edited 14 June 2021]

One thing I’ve noticed about the MCYT (Dream SMP, specifically) community on both Tumblr and Twitter is that when informed of things that are ableist, or harmful to ND people, a lot of people ignore the post/tweet, derail it or actively fight against it.

“I’m ND so I can’t be ableist” is a common statement, which is blatantly untrue. Even I’ve used ableist terms and phrases before, without realising they were harmful. So as a neurodivergent person, with autism, BPD, depression/anxiety, dyslexia, psychosis & brain damage*: here’s some common ableist things both CCs and fandom say almost constantly**.

*note that not every neurodivergent person will agree with me on these, but these are commonly ableist things people have previously talked about online, and/or have been discussed between me and other neurodivergent friends. No minority can ever speak for the entire group.

**note that a lot of these are common outside the MCYT community as well, and that some of these are just considered societally acceptable. This isn’t okay, but it explains why a lot of people don’t recognise jokes or comments like these are wrong, and it means that it’s not a direct moral failing of people that they don’t immediately or directly recognise these comments as wrong.

Now, let’s get into the things you might not have realised are potentially ableist:

1. Use of “Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath/Schizo” and other demeaning terms for people with mental illnesses as insults, or to describe characters who are considered villainous. Psychopath/Psycho/Sociopath are already terms that people with ASPD dislike using, even not as an insult, but using these terms to describe people or characters who you disagree with or see as villainous only contributes to the villainisation of people with ASPD and other mental illnesses. Using c!Dream as an example: Dream as a character is not confirmed to have any of these mental illnesses. He is, however, commonly labeled as psychotic/psychopathic, incapable of any kind of compassion.

He is also a character that fandom largely insists that nobody is allowed to sympathise with. This is a huge issue, and has hurt a lot of people, especially people with low empathy, or mental illnesses that cause them to relate to some of c!Dream’s actions (e.g. pulling away from all his friends, desperately grasping at straws to gain control of situations etc). Insisting that these characters are characters it’s impossible to sympathise with, all while calling them psychotic/psychopathic/sociopathic, is extremely harmful, and I hope this post draws attention to that.

Here’s another post that talks about that.

2. Use of the term “freak”, in general. As an insult, “freak” has been typically used to insult neurodivergent people, people with visible physical disabilities (ex. “freakshow”, and the term was reportedly created with the intent of insulting people with physical disabilities), or people who display any kind of abnormal/atypical social behaviour/physical aspects — people who are usually ND people who lack a diagnosis or people with physical disabilities. Recent usage has come to mean “people who do things that hurt other people”, but this is harmful as well; using words like “freak” or “weirdo” which mean “socially atypical behaviour” to refer to people who are actually doing things that hurt other people conflates the two, and often has a side effect of hurting disabled people who see it.

3. Calling ND ccs like Technoblade monotone/emotionless. While the term “monotone” isn’t ableist in and of itself, the fact that it’s being used against a neurodivergent man who emotes in a different way to neurotypical people rubs a lot of ND people the wrong way. I’ve partially discussed this here, in a tweet responding to a person who said that c!Technoblade, quote, “has no human capabilities like emotion for example”. This, however, is not something contained to c!Technoblade — one of the most common jokes in this fandom is how rare it is to hear emotion in Technoblade’s voice.

The issue with that is that neurodivergent people almost universally agree that Technoblade emotes perfectly fine, and, in fact, emotes more freely and clearly than a lot of others do. Hence, calling him monotone perpetuates the idea of ND people as emotionless/less able to be hurt/less expressive, which often hurts us. It also contributes to the dehumanisation of ND people — related to how ND symptoms are most often seen in robots or monsters in shows — and is generally extremely harmful, on top of being untrue.

4. Related to point 3: the infantilisation of ND ccs like Tubbo and Dream, usually paired with assigning “caretakers” of their friends, like Tommy and George. This is about the posts that spread like “omg, Tommy helps Tubbo with his dyslexia, that’s so cute” or “omg George is so patient with Dream, I could never sit through that” on videos of Dream vocally stimming because of his ADHD. This is another post that talks about this, but I wanted to talk more about why this is harmful here.

4a) With Tubbo’s dyslexia, from someone with dyslexia, it isn’t harmful to correct his spelling and move on. Personally, I think this is helpful — others will think it’s condescending, because not all ND people are the same — but as the above linked post mentions, this is not what Tubbo’s twitch chat does. This is not what the comments say. It’s all things about how it’s “so cute” that Tubbo can’t spell, how Tommy/Ranboo are “so patient” with correcting him. This is rooted in the need to constantly watch over ND people while acting like we can't live our lives without someone having us under constant vigilance. It feels like savior-complex ableism, like people are trying so hard to not be ableist that they spin back around to hurting us instead. And it feels like we are being treated like children. Like we are lesser than, and need to be monitored/watched over.

4b) Similarly to what people do with Tubbo, the comments on posts about Dream’s vocal stimming are often full of people calling George “patient” for “dealing with it”, or claiming they “wouldn’t be able to handle it”. This is inherently ableist. They’re praising George for basic human decency towards ND people, and claiming in the same breath that they wouldn’t be able to do that themselves. And then there’s these.

These comments infantilise Dream — claiming he “wouldn’t be able to stop/calm down” without George’s help, implying he’d “spiral out of control” or claiming “everyone is now my child”. It’s all related to the infantilisation of ND people, and the belief that without help/a caretaker we cannot take care of ourselves.

5. The way people treat ccs who likely have undiagnosed neurodivergencies, like Wilbur. Wilbur has openly admitted on stream before that his parents considered getting him an autism diagnosis. He also openly admits on stream that he has habits he doesn’t understand why he does, and hyperfixates on things for months at a time and doesn’t know why. Posts like this have gone around Tumblr, in which Wilbur displays blatantly ND traits.

And fandom generally calls him weird for expressing those traits. This video where he talks about eating sand because he likes the texture? That’s an ND trait. This video where he talks about his irrational hatred for anteaters? While mostly a joke, irrational hatred of something when you can’t explain/understand/articulate why is also a common ND trait. He spends 20 minutes during a Philza stream info-dumping about self-sustaining ecosystems (sharing the photo, because I think it’s really cool) and fandom begins calling them “Wilbur’s weird jars”. It’s demeaning to people who infodump, and as a ND person who hyperfixates and infodumps it’s really upsetting to see. It’s also upsetting to see other ND traits being called “weird” or “freaky” & made out to be soley some funny joke for NT people to laugh at us about.

Additionally: It’s strange to me that people think it’s okay to make fun of ND traits just because they know that or perceive that the person they’re making fun of is NT. It’s still making fun of ND traits. It’s still insulting ND people. It’s still ableist as hell. Why is it okay just because the person is NT?

6. Implying that c!Ranboo’s enderwalking is inherently violent. Ranboo has shown us time and time again that the enderwalk state isn’t a violent state. That the enderwalk state isn’t a seperate version of c!Ranboo that does horrific things. Why, then, is it so common to imply that Ranboo would be violent and hurt people why he’s enderwalking?

It comes back to the perception of c!Ranboo as a character with “two halves”, or as a character with DID. Ranboo has made it clear that his character does not have DID, but this headcanon about his character persists, and it persists in a way that is directly harmful to people with DID — and to people who dissociate or sleepwalk. We do not commit horrific acts while we dissociate, while we’re sleepwalking, because the majority of the time we’re just checked out, our body is on autopilot. Insinuating that we do is harmful. Insinuating that Ranboo has “another half” that’s inherently violent or evil is harmful to people with DID. I’m not going to ask you to stop writing these headcanons etc, but please consider the effect you have on people before you do.

7. Related to point 6: the perception of c!Ranboo as “soft” and “cute” and/or perfectly moral because of his canonical anxiety. This is really harmful, and comes once again from the infantilisation of disorders like anxiety and depression. Ranboo has made clear time and time again that his character isn’t moral, and in fact is extremely inconsistent. He’s portrayed his character as inconsistent, as someone who hurts his friends unintentionally and often due to his want to please everyone, and yet he’s constantly seen as “soft/pure/the only moral one” because of his anxiety causing to have repeated and consistent spirals on-screen. These spirals are not healthy. They don’t indicate his “perfect morals” or make him more moral than anyone else on the SMP. Please stop infantilising people with anxiety, it’s really hurtful.

8. Implying that c!Technoblade is inherently a violent person because of his voices. I’ll admit here: my hallucinations are visual. I do not get auditory hallucinations, and I cannot speak for people who do. But many people have spoken out about this, and discussed how talking about Technoblade as an inherently violent character because of his voices is harmful, and a stereotype of people with schizophrenia.

Technoblade’s character is, in and of itself, inherently a stereotype (despite the fact that his chat are more likely to be a supernatural entity than a symptom of a disorder such as schizophrenia) in that the idea of “hearing voices that encourage violence” is a stereotype of people with schizophrenia. As an actual symptom, is a very uncommon one. More common auditory hallucinations for people with schizophrenia or psychosis are, reportedly, whispers or unrelated conversation. One of my friends hears screaming.

But the issue is with the implication that c!Technoblade is “driven to violence” by the voices. Canonically, he has dealt with the “bloodlust” of chat by grinding withers. He’s perfectly capable of being peaceful, even with “voices pushing for violence”, and he’s perfectly capable of being violent without the “voices” influence. It’s the connotations and the history that fandom has in demonising and villainising c!Technoblade for even having the “voices” in the first place, and acting having them makes him inherently violent and unstable. There’s precedent for that already in society, and it’s not okay to perpetuate it.

[Edit: as of 22/05/2021, I do experience auditory hallucinations, and I can confirm that I am not any more violent, and the voices I hear don’t push me to violence. The clearest one just said ‘click’ in my ear.]

9. Jokes about brain damage and the use of “brainrot” as a term. I made a post about how common jokes about brain damage are here, and I would like to reiterate bits of it.

Jokes like these are really really normalized in modern society. I’m sure a lot of you didn’t even register it as wrong, and that isn’t a moral failing! It’s a norm in society, and that means the majority of people arent going to register it as something hurtful, because it’s said so often. But it does still hurt. The idea of using a disability as an insult is really harmful and it feels dehumanizing, like our disability makes us lesser, something that should be laughed at.

“Brainrot” as a term originated in Skyrim, as a disease that literally rotted your brain. However, as a term, it has very similar connotations to “brain damaged” and has been used in similarly joking and insulting ways. It’s something that feels really off to me and other neurodivergent people to see used by neurotypical people. It even sometimes feels uncomfortable when used by neurodivergent people, even if it’s used in positive ways. I know quite a few people who have removed it from their vocab completely because of the connotations, and I have personally done the same. Once again, I am just asking you to please consider your words before you use them.

10. Calling c!Wilbur during his Pogtopia Arc “Vilbur”. Yes, he was a villain. Yes, he hurt people. But c!Wilbur during the Pogtopia Arc only has one major difference from c!Wilbur during the L’Manburg Arc: a visible depiction of mental illness, specifically paranoia and psychosis. Treating him as a seperate person and calling that seperate person “Vilbur” comes across as extremely hurtful, and contributes to the villainisation of mentally ill people. His mental illness does not excuse him from hurting people, but calling c!Wilbur “Vilbur” upsets a lot of us, because wether or not it’s intended, it feels reductive, hurtful, and insulting.

If you got to the end of this post, thank you so much for reading. I hope that this helped you recognise things that you might not have known were ableist, and that you consider what I’ve said here. I also know that I haven’t addressed everything ableist that’s spread through the MCYT fandom community, so if you’re ND and have something you’d like to add, please feel free.

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thatoneidiotdts · 4 years ago

Text

Sleeping (+morning routine) headcanons for some genshin boys

A/n: hello ladies and gentlemen I'm happy to announce that I may be back now that my life has decided to stop throwing endless shit at me. Now I also write for genshin so feel free to send asks in my inbox!!

Warnings: nightmares for xiao, favoritism in diluc's part, purposeful misspelling and slander in C*ilde's part,overall tooth rotting fluff

Zhong li

Sleeps like a rock (pun intended)

This man will not wake up unless there is an emergency

No matter how much noise you make or whatever is going on around him he'll stay there laying in bed completely silent

His breathing is so quiet you think he's dead half the time if not for his endless sleep talking

And you can actually have full on conversations with him while he's asleep

Also he sleeps in a solider position which leaves you to cling on him like a koala on a big ass tree

Sleeps in really soft bamboo pyjamas that you bought for him

Zhong li will only wake up at exactly 7:30 am no matter if it's a week day or a weekend/ his day off

He also doesn't stay in bed for more than 10 minutes unless as stated before its his day off and you aren't awake yet

The man will stay there taking in the sunshine rays from the window as he's looking at your peaceful face

After an hour or two hell rub your back and gently wake you up with forehead kisses while softly calling your name

When you finally wake up you usually start with the morning hygiene and whatnot

Also he will ask you if you want to take a morning bath together but absolutely respects you decision if you won't and you don't need to even give him a reason you declined in the first place but will make sure you know he loves you no matter what

After that he will sit down with you and drink tea and have breakfast with you for the next two hours

It's the only reason he wakes up so early

T̵̻̦̥͌͝e̸̟̗̮̮͌a̷̙͕͉̿̍͝

After that he goes to do his usual shift at the wangsheng funeral parlor

Venti

Menace to society

He either sleeps sprawled out in a starfish position with his arm and leg over your body or in a fetal position with his face buried in your breasts/chest

He usually sleeps in your clothes or in his everyday clothes

His little snores are super cute tho

Venti's snoring isn't super loud, it's actually really quiet but still there

Since he's a bard he stays at the Angel's share until it closes which is usually very late into the night so he sleeps until like 2pm

He isn't a heavy sleeper so you usually accidentally wake him up if you have some errands to run early in the morning

Venti will cling to you and pretend that he's asleep so that you can stay in bed with him

After like 20 minutes of this he finally let's you go and makes you promise him that you'll be back quickly

When you returned to your shared house from doing commissions you found him still sleeping in the bed so you quietly took a shower and snuggled in with him for another hour or two

After he finally wakes up for real this time he has breakfast lunch with you and goes off to Angel's share but not before giving you a thousand kisses

Kaeya

He's sleep schedule is ON POINT

He always gets back from Angel's share at exactly 1:00am, showers, eats and does his skin care routine and gets in bed around 1:30am

He also wakes up at exactly 9am but stays in bed until ten

He trashes through the night, he also talks in his sleep but it really weird and it's mostly things that are in English but you can't understand them at all

Kaeya is also a blanket snatcher and will snatch your blanket if you aren't holding it tightly

I feel like he also sleeps with socks on but has a few special pairs of socks that have some cute patterns that he would rather be caught working with the fatui by his own brother than wear them outside once

Also sleeps in silk pyjamas, doesn't care if the cotton ones are easier to breathe through, he likes the feeling of silk on his skin

Kaeya loves his personal space and he doesn't like to be touched while he sleeps but makes up for it when he's awake but still in bed

The only exception is when it's cold outside, I headcannon he's naturally cold and he doesn't like it at all

His morning routine is 90% of him taking care of his face and showering

His skincare routine is also more expensive than some people's houses so don't touch his products plz

Kaeya will gladly teach you the basics of skin care and will buy you your own products that thinks will suit your skin better

He's also almost late to work every day so every day you see him put on his shoes calmly, take in a deep breath and then he kisses you goodbye and runs off like a mad man in order to get to the headquarters on time

Diluc

He has so much unprocessed trauma I would be surprised is sleep schedule is anything but a mess

Diluc doesn't sleep a lot, he would have a normal sleep schedule but since he has a lot of stuff to do all the time it stops him from sleeping property

Not only does he work as a bartender at Angel's share when Charles can't he also works as the Mondstat's one and only Dark Night Hero

He usually comes home around 4 or 5 am and will only sleep until like 8 and you will have to force him to have a nap in the afternoon

Also he sleeps in his everyday clothing and he's sometimes too tired to even take his coat off

Diluc sleeps on his stomach which causes him to have back and neck problems but it's the only way he can actually fall asleep

He's a really light sleeper which also adds up to his sleeping problem

Also he snores loudly, like really loudly, and he only snores at night for some weird reason

You discovered that because one day you accidentally woke up at like 6 am and you couldn't fall back asleep because of his loud snoring but you didn't dare to move since you knew how little rest he gets

He's not a morning person at all, if he didn't hate alcohol, he would be the person that chugs half a bottle of vodka in the morning just to keep him awake

Diluc usually starts his morning off with some personal hygiene and then starts doing the endless paperwork without even having breakfast or anything to drink

So out will have to force him to eat and drink so that he doesn't pass out from work

On the rare days he doesn't have any work to do he usually sleeps them off to make up for the time he didn't sleep

Albedo

Chalk boy over here also has a terrible sleep schedule

He's not really forcing himself to stay up but rather doesn't realize how late it is

You will have to pull him out of his work in order for him to go to sleep

Albedo has a special pair of pyjamas that he wears when he's sleeping and he only wears them because for his last birthday Klee has given him a pair of pyjamas that were originally grey but she hand painted them herself with the help of Jean and Lisa and he's been sleeping in them ever since

And when i say every day I mean every day

But don't worry he hand washes them every two days and takes special care of them in order to not wash of the fabric paint

His snores are also really quiet and quite cute, I recommend commenting on that if you wanna see him blush ^-^

Albedo usually sleeps on his stomach but unlike Diluc he is small enough to not crush you under his weight so he usually sleeps with his head on your stomach or buried in your neck

Pease touch his hair he melts when you do

Albedo can sleep for a looonng time if you don't wake him up so he relies on you to wake him up or else he'll spend the next 16 hours in bed sleeping without a care in the wold

When he wake up he does his usual morning routine, which is usually a quick shower, breakfast, brushing his teeth and his hair out, and then goes off to work

He will absolutely make you have a nap with him in the afternoon or whenever he feels tired

Xiao

He doesn't sleep much, hell I don't this man sleeps at all sometimes

Adepti don't really require sleep or food like normal humans do

It took a lot of time for him to trust you enough to sleep besides him

Xiao doesn't feel safe while sleeping at all, he also fears that his karmic dept might take affect on you so he keeps his distance for quite some time

For the first month or two he would wear his normal every day clothes but then you gift him a cute plain green onesie and at first he straight up refused to put 'that thing' on but he gave in and hasn't sleep in anything else since

At first he would be the big spoon so that he can protect you from any harm but when you spooned him for the first time he felt so safe and warm he never wanted to let go of that feeling ever again

After that he would ask you under his breath if you could spoon him more often, you barely understood what he was saying but perfectly understood what he wanted and needed.

He also regularly has nightmares which causes him to trash around and maybe whack you in the face once or twice but you're quick to calm him down

Xiao never really realized that he was hurting you until he gently hugged you and you winced because he accidentally touched the small mark he left the previous night after having another nightmare

Doesn't touch you or sleep with you for a week after that, he already hurt you enough but you don't really care so you coaxed him into sleeping with you again very easily since he missed your warmth a lot

He doesn't really have a morning routine but he does wake up every morning before you so that he can teleport to the Huaguang Stone Forest to pick some Qingxin flowers for you

He's also gets back into your arms right before you wake up so that it seems like he never left in the first place

But you always notice the new fresh bouquet of the beautiful white flower on your desk and thank him for it

T*rtaglia

Listen here ok I'mma be real with y'all

Turbulence sleeps exactly one hour less than normal people but makes it seem like he gets like 2 hours of sleep per night

"Ugh I didn't sleep last night at all😩😏" Like bro stfu

He also makes jokes about sleeping so little because he was with you last night or that he was training so hard or doing a mountain of paper work

While you know damn well he was with you entire night sleeping like a baby right by your side

He sleeps naked solely so that one day when a hypothetical intruder gets into your home he can scare them off by yelling at them while being completely naked 💀

But he will put a pair of pyjamas on if you're uncomfortable

He mostly sleeps on his side because he needs to hold something while he's sleeping, if you aren't with him that night he will hug your pillow and sleep like that

Tagliatelle also doesn't like to sleep when in a cold room so he will have one of those water bottles that people use for back pain and will put one in the pillow he's holding and two in the blanket itself

He's totally a morning person and has no problem with getting out of the bed in less than like 10 minutes unless you ask him not to

If he has a day off he won't sleep in that much but he will curl up beside you and 'accidentally' place his head on your boobs/chest

Y'all saying Terrorism is the caring older brother? WRONG he's the forgotten middle child. we ofc know about Tonia, Anthon and Teucer but he also has two older brothers and at least one older sister

I feel like he's the middle child that had to take all the responsibilities when the older three/four moved out

So yeah he can make a damn fine breakfast for you without skipping a beat

But don't let me even start on his personal hygiene

Like shower are fine ok and he baths once a week only because he can but like

I know damn well his back teeth are ROTTING

He only uses mouthwash and brushes the front and bottom part of the teeth so that they look presentable meanwhile his back teeth got their souls sucked out

Moving on from that Tellurium can't really spend the whole morning with you so he will have to leave you late in the morning.

Coffee? :>

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