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inkolnito · 3 days ago

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Paddock Confidential - Chapter 19: The Calm Eye

Pairing:

Oliver "Ollie" Bearman x Lira Räikkönen (Original Female Character )

Minor background pairings reflecting the real-life F1 grid (e.g., Charles Leclerc/Alexandra Saint Mleux)

Summary:

Rising F1 star Ollie Bearman navigates the intense pressure of his rookie season with Haas, juggling demanding team expectations and his close ties to Ferrari under the watchful eye of Fred Vasseur. His biggest challenge lies off-track: guarding his relationship with the enigmatic and fiercely private Lira, whose surprising motorsport knowledge and aversion to the spotlight hint at a complex past connected to one of the sport's icons. As Ollie fights for his future, their secret world threatens to unravel amidst paddock gossip, rivalries, and the ever-present Drive to Survive cameras. When exposure becomes inevitable, they must confront the consequences and find a way to navigate the relentless glare of the F1 world together.

Warnings and Notes:

Warnings: Depictions of anxiety, stress related to high-pressure environments (F1), mentions of past trauma (related to privacy/media intrusion), media scrutiny/harassment, potential minor F1-typical language.

Notes: This is a work of fiction using real people (F1 drivers, personnel) as characters; their portrayals, actions, and relationships are fictionalized for the story.

The news reached Kimi Räikkönen not via the frantic buzz of social media, which he largely ignored, but through a clipped, concise phone call from Minttu. She rarely called him about Formula 1 matters anymore unless it was significant, usually involving one of their younger children’s burgeoning interest or a major regulation change she’d seen debated. This time, her voice was tight with a controlled anger Kimi knew well.

"Kimi. Have you seen this… Drive to Survive nonsense?" she asked, dispensing with pleasantries.

"No," Kimi replied, leaning back in his chair in his quiet home office, surrounded by the serene Swiss landscape, a world away from the F1 circus he thought he’d largely left behind. "Why?"

"They put out a trailer. It shows Lira's pass from Monaco. Her name." Minttu didn't need to elaborate. The implication was immediate, stark.

A cold, familiar weight settled in Kimi’s stomach. Lira. His daughter. Exposed. He closed his eyes for a brief moment.

Stupid cameras. Stupid show.

He’d always hated the invasive nature of it, the manufactured drama. Now, it had directly impacted his family, the one thing he guarded more fiercely than any racing line. He thought instantly of Lira years ago – the flashing bulbs, the shouting reporters after that minor incident was twisted into a scandal, the way she had retreated into herself, the panic attacks that ambushed her in crowds, the long, slow process of rebuilding her confidence away from the glare. The thought of her facing that again, amplified by her connection to a current driver, made something cold clench inside him. This wasn't just an annoyance; it was dangerous for her.

"Where is she now?" Kimi asked, his voice flat, betraying none of the sudden, sharp anxiety gripping him.

"She was with the boy, Bearman, in Finland, hiding out," Minttu explained, her voice laced with frustration. "They were due to travel to Spa today. Ollie’s manager is handling logistics, trying to get them there discreetly. But Kimi… you know what this means. The paparazzi, the media… after everything she went through before…"

He knew. He knew exactly what it meant. The feeding frenzy. The lack of boundaries. The way they hunted. Idiots. He wouldn't let them break her again. Before responding to Minttu, he pulled up a trusted, encrypted news feed on his computer, quickly finding the already viral clips. He watched the DTS trailer snippet – the fumble, the zoom, the name.

Careless.

Then he found the other footage, likely leaked from a paparazzo's dashcam or a bystander – the aggressive chase towards the Spa hotel, the dark Audi, the hatchback boxing them in, the flashes reflecting off the wet road. He saw the rental car swerve, the other cars react clumsily.

Stupid chase.

He noted Bearman's sharp, unconventional manoeuvre into the garage ramp.

Good driving, maybe. Still stupid situation.

More importantly, he saw the brief, blurry glimpse of Lira flinching from the flashes, turning away. That familiar, hunted look. It confirmed everything Minttu said, everything he feared. The cold knot tightened.

"Okay," Kimi said into the phone after a moment's silence, his decision made. He stood up, already calculating. Spa wasn't far by private jet. He needed to be there. Not for the politics, not for the racing, but for Lira. To make sure she was okay. To run interference if necessary, in his own way.

Maybe just his presence would be enough to make some of the vultures back off.

Maybe.

"Kimi? What are you going to do?" Minttu asked, a note of worry in her voice.

"Going to Spa," he stated simply. "Need to… check things." Make sure Lira was safe, make sure the teams involved understood the situation, make sure the Bearman boy knew what was at stake beyond lap times.

"Be careful," Minttu cautioned. "Don't make it worse."

"Bwoah," Kimi grunted, a sound of acknowledgment, before ending the call. He moved quickly, efficiently. A few brief calls arranged the jet. He packed nothing but a small overnight bag. As he headed out, his mind worked with cold precision. He needed to get to Lira, assess the situation – see for himself if she was handling the noises or retreating back into that fragile state he remembered all too well. He also needed to speak to Vasseur. Fred was pragmatic, usually sensible, but he was also Ferrari's man, and Kimi knew Fred was already aware of the situation before this public leak. Kimi needed to reinforce the priorities:Lira's well-being came first.

Everything else was secondary.

The short drive from the secure hotel garage to the Spa-Francorchamps paddock entrance the next morning felt like traversing a minefield in slow motion for Ollie and Lira. Every shadow seemed to hold a lurking photographer, every parked car a potential ambush. Ollie drove the nondescript vehicle provided by Tim, his knuckles white on the wheel, his gaze flicking constantly between the road ahead and the rearview mirror. Beside him, Lira sat ramrod straight, staring fixedly ahead, her face pale but set in a mask of determined neutrality, though Ollie could see the faint tremor in her hands clasped tightly in her lap. The chaotic energy of the previous day – the frantic phone calls, the viral explosion online, the paparazzi chase – had subsided into a tense, brittle silence between them, heavy with unspoken fear and the looming dread of Fred Vasseur’s summons.

Tim had briefed them meticulously via encrypted call: security would meet them at the designated Paddock Entrance 1, creating a barrier. They were to exit the car quickly, heads down, no eye contact, no response to any questions, and proceed directly through the turnstiles where Tim and a Haas representative would escort Ollie straight to Vasseur’s office. Lira, under explicit instructions from both Tim and, indirectly, Vasseur via Ollie, was to be immediately escorted to a secure, private room within the Haas Energy Station, away from all media and team operations, until Tim could arrange her discreet departure from the circuit altogether.

No alias pass today. No blending in.

Just containment.

As they approached the entrance, the scene that greeted them was worse than Ollie had imagined. It wasn't just the usual cluster of dedicated autograph hunters and team personnel arriving.

It was a swarm. A thick, jostling mass of bodies surged against the temporary barriers manned by visibly stressed security guards.

Photographers stood shoulder-to-shoulder, long lenses aimed like sniper rifles. Reporters jostled for position, microphones thrust forward like weapons. The air crackled with anticipation, the low murmur of the crowd punctuated by the sharp, predatory clicks of camera shutters firing speculatively even before their car came to a complete stop.

"Deep breaths," Ollie muttered, mostly to himself, as he pulled into the designated drop-off zone. Security guards immediately moved forward, forming a tight cordon around the car doors.

"Ready?" Tim’s voice crackled through the temporary earpiece Ollie wore.

"Move fast. Don't stop."

Ollie nodded, glancing at Lira. Her eyes were closed for a fraction of a second, her lips pressed into a thin line. She opened them, met his gaze briefly, and gave a tiny, almost imperceptible nod. Survival mask firmly in place.

The car doors opened simultaneously. The roar hit them instantly – a barrage of shouted questions, flashing lights, the sheer physical pressure of the crowd straining against the barriers.

"Ollie! Ollie! Is it true? Is she Kimi’s daughter?"

"Lira! Lira Räikkönen! Why the secrecy?"

"How long has this been going on, Ollie?"

"What does Kimi think?"

"Ferrari statement! Any comment?"

"Lira! Look this way! Just one picture!"

The flashes were blinding, disorienting, white spots dancing in Ollie’s vision. He instinctively reached for Lira, pulling her close, trying to shield her with his body as they pushed through the narrow gap created by security towards the turnstiles. He could feel her trembling beside him, her hand gripping his arm with bruising force. She kept her head down, a curtain of dark hair shielding her face, but he saw her flinch violently with each close flashbulb, each shouted question containing her father's name. The carefully constructed composure she wore like armour was cracking under the relentless assault, the past trauma triggered by the aggressive, invasive swarm. She stumbled slightly, overwhelmed.

Ollie tightened his grip, practically dragging her forward, his own anger surging, a red mist threatening to descend. He wanted to shout, to push back, to lash out at the faceless mob treating their lives like cheap entertainment. But years of media training kicked in, Vasseur’s warning ringing in his ears.

Don’t react. Don’t engage.

He gritted his teeth, focusing solely on reaching the relative safety of the turnstiles just meters away.

A particularly persistent paparazzo, somehow slipping partially past the security line, shoved a camera lens directly towards Lira’s face, shouting, "Lira! Kimi's little girl hiding away?"

Lira recoiled sharply, a small, choked sound escaping her lips. Ollie instinctively moved to shove the photographer back, consequences be damned, when suddenly, another figure burst through the scrum from the side, moving with surprising force.

"Oi! Back off, yeah? Give them some space! Bit much, isn't it?"

Ollie stared, stunned. It was Liam Lawson. The Red Bull junior, Ollie’s long-time rival, was physically shouldering the aggressive paparazzo back, his expression a mixture of genuine annoyance and perhaps, disdain for the media feeding frenzy. He created a sudden, unexpected gap in the wall of bodies.

"Rookie mistake letting them corner you like that, Bearman," Liam muttered curtly, not quite meeting Ollie’s eyes, as he effectively blocked the path of the photographer trying to push forward again. "Get through."

The intervention was so unexpected, so out of character from the usually intense, focused Lawson, that Ollie hesitated for a fraction of a second, utterly bewildered. Was this genuine decency? Annoyance at the chaos delaying his own entry? Some strange form of competitive pity? There was no time to analyse. Tim was already pulling at his arm, urging him forward.

"Thanks," Ollie managed, pulling a still-trembling Lira through the gap Liam had created. They practically fell through the turnstiles, where Tim and the Haas representative immediately flanked them.

Liam didn't watch them go. He simply turned, elbowed another reporter out of his way with a glare, and disappeared towards the RB hospitality unit, leaving Ollie reeling from the brief, bewildering encounter.

Inside the paddock proper, the atmosphere felt different. The usual Thursday morning buzz was still there, but it was overlaid with a palpable current of electricity, a heightened sense of awareness. Heads turned as Ollie was quickly ushered away by Tim towards the looming Ferrari motorhome for his meeting with Vasseur.

His gut twisted with dread, not just for the impending interrogation, but for Lira. He risked a glance back, seeing her pale, silent figure being steered firmly in the opposite direction towards the Haas Energy Station by another member of Tim’s team, Sarah. Lira looked terrifyingly small and vulnerable amidst the towering motorhomes. Her trembling had intensified after the close call with the paparazzo, her breathing shallow. He saw the familiar signs – the slight disconnect in her eyes, the rigidity in her posture – warning signs of a panic attack brewing. He desperately wanted to go to her, to shield her, but Tim's hand was firm on his arm, pulling him relentlessly towards Ferrari, towards his own reckoning. The feeling of helplessness, of being forced to abandon her when she clearly needed him most, added another layer of stress to his already overloaded system.

Eyes followed them both – curious, sympathetic, amused, speculative. Conversations paused momentarily as they passed, then resumed with renewed vigour, the topic undoubtedly singular. The leak hadn't just broken online; it had detonated within the heart of the paddock itself.

Kimi Räikkönen arrived at the Spa paddock via a discreet service entrance shortly after Ollie and Lira had run the gauntlet at the main gate. He moved with practiced anonymity, cap low, sunglasses on, ignoring the few surprised looks from personnel who recognised him. He headed straight for the Ferrari motorhome, knowing Vasseur would be his first necessary conversation.

He found Fred outside his office, already looking stressed, phone pressed to his ear. Kimi simply waited, arms crossed, until Fred finished the call. The Ferrari Team Principal looked up, saw Kimi, and his eyes widened slightly in surprise, quickly followed by a look of weary understanding. He knew this visit was inevitable after the DTS reveal.

"Kimi," Fred greeted, gesturing him inside the spartan office. "I suspected I might hear from you."

Kimi didn't waste time with pleasantries as he entered the office, letting the door click shut behind him.

"My daughter," he stated flatly, getting straight to the point, his voice devoid of inflection but carrying an undeniable weight. "This… show… put her name out."

"I am aware," Fred said, his tone serious. He gestured towards a chair, but Kimi remained standing. "I spoke with Oliver this morning. A difficult situation, compounded by this leak. As you know, I was already aware of the… connection… before this."

Kimi gave a curt nod. He knew Fred knew.

"Is what it is," Kimi replied, the phrase a familiar shield, though internally, the situation felt far from simple. He thought of Lira’s pale face the last time the media had hounded her, the shadows in her eyes.

This cannot happen again.

"The main thing," he continued, his gaze direct, unwavering, locking onto Vasseur’s, "is Lira. This noise… is not good for her." He paused, letting the implication hang. "She needs privacy. Real privacy. Not this circus." He remembered the panic attacks, the therapy, the slow rebuilding. The thought of that progress being undone by F1's relentless machine ignited a cold anger within him.

"I understand, Kimi," Fred said, meeting his gaze steadily. Fred knew Kimi well enough to read the steel beneath the monotone. "And I sympathize. Believe me, the media frenzy is the last thing we need. I have reiterated to Oliver that Lira is not to attend any further races or be seen in the paddock. Her presence, especially now, is an unacceptable risk and distraction."

Kimi processed this. Logical, from Fred's viewpoint. Protect the driver, the Ferrari asset. But his own priorities were different. "Good she stays away," Kimi agreed slowly. It was the only sensible immediate step. "But understand this, Fred." He took a small step closer to the desk, his presence filling the small office. "She is not a 'distraction'. She is my daughter." He paused, the statement hanging in the air. "This noise," he gestured vaguely at the world outside the office, "is bad for her. If she has problems... because of this connection... then things get complicated." He held Fred's gaze, the implication clear without needing further elaboration. Complications involving Kimi Räikkönen were rarely simple or desirable.

Fred held Kimi's gaze for a long moment, the air thick with unspoken history and understanding. He knew Kimi wasn't making an idle threat. He knew the lengths Kimi would go to protect his family. "We will ensure her privacy is respected as much as possible from our end, Kimi," Fred assured him, his tone firm but respectful. "We have protocols. Security is aware. Oliver understands the situation and the need for absolute discretion moving forward. His focus must be entirely on the car. He knows the stakes."

Kimi gave a curt nod. That was as much as he could expect for now. He hadn't come here to interfere with Ollie's career directly – the boy would sink or swim on his own merits – only to ensure Lira wasn't collateral damage.

"Where is she now?"

"Haas hospitality," Fred replied. "In a private room. Ther manager, Tim, is arranging her departure from the circuit shortly."

"Okay." Kimi turned towards the door, his business with Vasseur concluded.

"Kimi," Fred called out, stopping him. "For what it's worth… she seemed remarkably composed when I saw her briefly at Silverstone. Handled my… comments… well."

Kimi just grunted again, offering no response, and left the office as quietly as he'd entered.

His next stop was Haas.

The room Sarah led Lira to within the Haas Energy Station was small, windowless, and functional – likely a rarely used meeting room or temporary office. It contained a small sofa, a table, a couple of chairs, and a large monitor displaying a neutral Haas logo. It felt sterile, impersonal, and utterly confining.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind Sarah, the fragile composure Lira had maintained shattered.

The trembling intensified, shaking her whole body. Her breath came in ragged, shallow gasps, her chest tight, feeling like a steel band was crushing her ribs. The sterile white walls seemed to close in, the air thick and unbreathable. The afterimages of the flashing bulbs exploded behind her eyelids, mixing with fragmented memories of Monaco – the shouting faces, the grabbing hands, the feeling of being trapped, suffocated. Panic, cold and absolute, seized her.

She stumbled towards the sofa, collapsing onto it, curling into a tight ball, pressing her face hard against the rough fabric, trying to block out the overwhelming sensory input, trying to disappear.

Breathe, a distant, rational part of her mind screamed, echoing years of therapy. Focus. Ground yourself. She tried to force the techniques back – feel the texture of the sofa beneath your cheek, count the stitches, breathe in for four, hold for seven, out for eight – but the panic was a roaring tide, pulling her under. Her heart hammered against her ribs, so loud she could hear it pounding in her ears over the frantic rasp of her own breathing. Tears streamed down her face, hot and stinging, not from sadness, but from sheer, overwhelming terror.

They know. They all know. No escape.

Trapped.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, digging her fingernails into her palms, focusing on the small, sharp pain, trying to anchor herself back to the present, back to the small, windowless room. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, after what felt like an eternity, the roaring in her ears began to subside slightly. Her breathing hitched, but started to deepen. The tremors lessened, though her muscles remained coiled tight with residual tension. She uncurled slightly, wiping furiously at her wet cheeks, forcing herself to sit up, leaning her head back against the sofa, utterly drained, exhausted by the internal battle. The room still felt too small, the silence too loud, but the immediate wave of panic had crested, leaving behind the familiar, desolate ache of vulnerability and exposure.

Just as she was trying to gather the scattered fragments of her composure, a light tap sounded on the door. Lira tensed, her heart leaping again, bracing for another intrusion. "Yes?" she called out cautiously, her voice tight.

The door opened a crack, and Sarah peeked in. "Lira? Sorry to disturb you, but… someone left this for you." She held out a small, plain white envelope with 'Lira' written on it in elegant script. "Alexandra Saint Mleux asked me to pass it on very discreetly."

Surprised, Lira took the envelope. "Oh. Thank you, Sarah." Sarah gave another quick, nervous smile and retreated. Lira turned the envelope over. It was unsealed. Inside was a simple, thick card. The message was brief, written in the same elegant hand:

Lira,

Thinking of you today. The noise can be deafening, but it fades. Focus on what's real. If you need anything at all, even just a quiet coffee away from all this when things calm down, please don't hesitate. Stay strong.

Alexandra

A small, genuine warmth spread through Lira’s chest, a counterpoint to the cold anxiety.

Alexandra, who navigated her own high-profile relationship with Charles Leclerc under constant scrutiny, understood. The simple gesture, the offer of solidarity, felt significant. Just as she was refolding the note, her personal phone – the one she kept strictly for non-F1 contacts and rarely turned on at the track – vibrated silently in her bag. She hesitated, then retrieved it, glancing at the screen. A WhatsApp message notification from a number she recognized with surprise: Carmen Montero Mundt.

‘Lira, hi! George passed on your number ages ago, hope you don’t mind me reaching out. Just saw the news – absolutely insane what DTS pulled. Wanted to send support. It’s a crazy world we dip into, ignore the madness online if you can! Let me know if you fancy a chat sometime, away from the circus. C x’

Another wave of warmth. Carmen, like Alexandra, lived within the bubble, understood the pressures, the scrutiny faced by those connected to the drivers. Her message, like Alexandra's note, felt like a small hand reaching out across the paddock divide, offering camaraderie rather than judgment or curiosity. Perhaps she wasn't entirely alone in this. The messages didn't erase the fear, but they offered a tiny flicker of light in the overwhelming darkness, a reminder that understanding existed, even here.

A soft knock on the door made her jump again. This time, she felt a different kind of apprehension. "Yes?" she called out cautiously, her voice tight.

The door opened slowly, and Lira’s breath caught in her throat. Standing there, filling the doorway, looking completely out of place yet utterly self-possessed, was her father.

Kimi Räikkönen.

He wore the same simple, anonymous attire – jeans, t-shirt, baseball cap, sunglasses – looking less like a former World Champion and more like a slightly disgruntled tourist who had taken a wrong turn. He stepped inside, closing the door quietly behind him, his eyes scanning the small, sterile room before settling on her.

Lira stared back, speechless. How had he even found her here, in this specific, hidden room? Tim? Ayao? It didn't matter. He was here. The person whose reaction she had perhaps dreaded, and yet paradoxically craved, the most.

He walked towards the sofa, pulling one of the functional chairs opposite it, scraping it slightly on the floor before sitting down, mirroring her posture almost exactly. He removed his sunglasses, tucking them into his t-shirt collar. His blue eyes, so familiar yet often so unreadable, held a flicker of something she couldn't quite decipher – annoyance? Concern? Resignation?

"Bwoah," he said finally, breaking the silence. His trademark monotone filled the small space.

"Paljon melua." (A lot of noise.)

Lira swallowed, finding her voice.

"Papa," she whispered.

It felt strange saying it here, in this context. "How did you…?"

He waved a dismissive hand, cutting off the question as irrelevant. His gaze swept over her, taking in her pale face, the tension in her shoulders.

"You okay?" The question was direct, devoid of fuss, but the underlying concern was there, buried beneath layers of reserve.

She looks pale, Kimi thought. Too thin.

Like before.

The memory tightened something in his chest. This stupid circus.

Tears pricked Lira’s eyes, surprising her. She blinked them back fiercely. "I'm… fine," she lied, the word catching in her throat. "It's just… a lot."

Lying, Kimi noted internally. Just like her mother when she tries to hide something. But he didn't push.

Kimi nodded slowly, accepting her answer without comment. He looked around the room again, his expression bordering on distaste for the generic corporate setting. "They hide you here?"

"Trying to," Lira admitted. "Until Tim can arrange for me to leave."

Another nod. Silence stretched between them again, not awkward, but filled with unspoken understanding. Kimi had lived his life under the microscope; he understood the intrusion, the violation, better than anyone. He hated seeing that haunted look creeping back into her eyes.

"The pass," he stated finally, looking back at her. "Monaco."

Lira flinched slightly. "It was my fault. I wasn't careful enough."

He shrugged, a minimal movement. "Happens. Cameras everywhere. Stupid." Need to be more careful, he thought. This world doesn't forgive mistakes. He paused, then added, almost as an afterthought, "Should use better alias next time. Virtanen… too obvious." Maybe something less Finnish.

A tiny, hysterical laugh escaped Lira. Too obvious. Only her father could offer practical advice on alias selection in the middle of a media firestorm.

He looked at her again, his gaze lingering.

"This boy. Bearman. He okay?" Is he handling this? Is he protecting her properly?

"He's… dealing with it," Lira said carefully. "Fred Vasseur called him in this morning."

Kimi grunted, a sound that could have meant anything. Vasseur. Ferrari politics. Not his concern, unless it impacted Lira. "Is what it is," he said finally. He stood up, scraping the chair again.

"Need anything?" Money? Security? A flight out? Just say the word.

Lira shook her head, feeling strangely calmer now, anchored by his unexpected, understated presence, and buoyed slightly by the messages from Alexandra and Carmen. "No. Thank you, Papa."

He nodded one last time. He reached out, his hand hovering awkwardly for a moment before landing briefly, surprisingly gently, on her shoulder. A rare gesture of physical comfort. Stay strong, the touch conveyed, more effectively than words ever could for him.

"Handle it," he said simply.

Then, as quietly as he had arrived, he turned, opened the door, and was gone, leaving Lira alone once more in the silence, the faint scent of his familiar cologne lingering in the air.

She let out a long, shaky breath, the tears finally spilling over, though these felt different – less fear, more a complex mix of relief, residual shock, and a strange sense of validation. He hadn't yelled, hadn't blamed, hadn't interrogated. He had just… shown up. Checked she was okay. Offered blunt advice.

And the quiet support from Alexandra and Carmen… maybe, just maybe, she wasn't entirely isolated. The hurricane was still raging outside, but for a moment, the eye of the storm had felt strangely, profoundly calm.

Ollie barely registered the walk back from Vasseur's office, his mind consumed by the Ferrari boss's cold disappointment and the bizarre image of Liam Lawson acting as an unlikely bodyguard. Tim offered quiet words of advice – "Stay calm, stick to the facts, emphasize privacy, reassure him about focus" – but Ollie’s thoughts were a whirlwind of anxiety and confusion.

Emerging back into the relative chaos of the paddock felt surreal. He had his Haas PR briefing next, where the team’s communications head, Stuart, ran him through the agreed lines – polite deflection, focus on the race weekend, reiterate the need for privacy regarding personal matters. Ayao Komatsu pulled him aside briefly afterwards, his expression typically pragmatic but with a hint of understanding in his eyes. "Difficult situation, Ollie," the Haas Team Principal said quietly. "Focus on the car, on your engineers. Do your job. We handle the rest."

It was quiet support, devoid of judgment, and Ollie felt a surge of gratitude for the Japanese engineer's straightforward approach.

As he navigated the paddock towards his driver room, Ollie found himself running a different kind of gauntlet. The overt hostility of the entrance scrum was replaced by a subtler, yet equally intense, wave of reactions from his peers. He saw Charles Leclerc across the walkway between Ferrari and Haas; the Monegasque driver offered a warm, sympathetic smile and a subtle thumbs-up, a small gesture of solidarity that resonated deeply coming from within the Ferrari fold. Further down, leaning against the wall outside the Aston Martin hospitality, Fernando Alonso watched Ollie approach. The veteran Spaniard, a man who had shared garages and rivalries with Kimi Räikkönen, simply gave Ollie a slow, deliberate nod as he passed. There was a glint of something knowing in his eyes, not unfriendly, but a world-weary acknowledgment: "So, that's the story. Interesting. Welcome to the complexities, kid."

Then, Kimi Antonelli appeared seemingly out of nowhere, falling into step beside Ollie, his usual reserve replaced by an open, uncomplicated concern. "Ollie, mate, you okay?" he asked directly, his voice low.

"Saw the madness outside. That was rough. Seriously, anything you need, just say the word."

The quiet suspicion Ollie had sometimes sensed from his fellow rookie was gone, replaced by genuine support, perhaps driven by his own understanding, or simply by their shared journey. "Thanks, Kimi," Ollie managed, genuinely touched. "Appreciate it. Just… trying to focus on the driving." Antonelli nodded. "Good. That's all you can do. Ignore the noise."

He clapped Ollie briefly on the shoulder before heading towards the Mercedes unit. Even Alex Albon made a point of seeking him out near the Williams garage, his expression full of sympathy. "Mate, saw the scrum this morning," Alex said. "Absolutely brutal. Don't let the bastards get you down, yeah? We've all had our share of media nonsense."

Not all reactions were supportive. As Ollie passed the RB hospitality again, he caught Liam Lawson’s eye. Lawson just gave him a cool, unreadable look, offering nothing – no repeat of the morning’s intervention, no animosity, just detached observation. It was unnerving, leaving Ollie wondering again about the motive behind the earlier help. Had it been a fleeting moment of decency, or just annoyance at the media blocking his own path?

And then there was Chloe. Ollie spotted her holding court with a group of sponsor guests near the McLaren area. She saw him approaching, and her lips curved into a sharp, knowing smile. She didn't approach him, didn't need to. Her expression conveyed everything – amusement, satisfaction, perhaps even a hint of triumph. She watched him walk past, her eyes calculating, doubtless already spinning narratives, assessing how this new development could be leveraged or simply enjoyed.

His phone buzzed with an Instagram DM. He glanced down, expecting another media alert or perhaps Tim. Instead, the name displayed made him stop in his tracks: Sebastian Vettel.

The message was short, simple, and perfectly Vettel: ‘Heard the news. Bwoah! 😉 Welcome to the club! Keep your head down and drive fast. Seb.’

Ollie couldn't help but let out a short, surprised laugh, the tension easing fractionally. Leave it to Seb to offer support with humour and a perfectly deployed Räikkönen catchphrase. He quickly typed back a thank you, feeling a small measure of warmth.

He finally reached the relative sanctuary of the Haas Energy Station. Stuart, the PR head, intercepted him near the entrance. "Okay, Ollie, quick update. Media requests are through the roof, obviously. We're declining everything non-essential for now, sticking to the mandatory FIA press conference and scheduled team sessions. Keep to the agreed lines. Any curveballs, deflect to me or Tim."

Ollie nodded, feeling numb. As he turned towards the stairs leading to the private rooms, he saw Alexandra Saint Mleux talking quietly with one of the Ferrari press officers nearby. She caught his eye and excused herself, walking over to him, her expression warm and genuinely kind.

"Ollie," she said softly, placing a gentle hand briefly on his arm. "I just wanted to say... don't let them get to you. Charles and I both know how intense it can be." She glanced around the busy hospitality area. "Is Lira here? Is she alright?"

"She's... okay," Ollie managed. "They've got her tucked away somewhere secure. Not coming into the paddock today."

Alexandra nodded understandingly. "Good. Smart. I sent a note earlier, hope she got it. Tell her… tell her to take deep breaths. It feels overwhelming now, but she'll survive this. We all do, eventually." She offered him another encouraging smile.

"Focus on the driving. Charles sends his best." The simple, genuine support from someone navigating a similar, albeit less secret, high-profile relationship felt like another small anchor.

Ollie finally made it to his designated quiet room, sinking onto the small sofa, the door closing thankfully behind him, shutting out the paddock noise for a precious few minute. He leaned his head back, closing his eyes, trying to process the whirlwind of the past hour. The ambush, Liam’s bizarre intervention, the mix of reactions, Fred's ominous warning… it was too much. His thoughts went to Lira, picturing her pale face and trembling hands as they were separated at the turnstiles. Was she okay now? Was she locked in that room alone, reliving the panic? The feeling of helplessness gnawed at him, a counterpoint to his own exhaustion. He felt exposed, vulnerable, angry, and terrified all at once.

Just as he was trying to gather his thoughts before the next round of engineering meetings, his phone buzzed again. A text from Tim. ‘Head down to the back entrance of the motorhome. Now. Keep it discreet.’

Confused and wary, Ollie slipped out of his room and made his way through the internal corridors of the Haas hospitality unit, avoiding the main areas. He reached the designated back door – usually used for deliveries or discreet personnel movements – and pushed it open slightly, peering out into the service area behind the motorhome.

And his heart stopped. Again.

Leaning against the wall, arms crossed, sunglasses on despite the overcast sky, looking utterly, improbably, nonchalantly there, was Kimi Räikkönen.

He looked exactly as Ollie imagined he must have looked finding Lira earlier – an icon materialized out of thin air.

Kimi looked up as Ollie emerged, his expression typically unreadable behind the dark glasses. He didn't smile, didn't offer a greeting beyond a minimal nod.

"Bwoah," Kimi stated, his voice the familiar, low monotone.

"Big noise."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement of fact, encompassing the entire media storm, the leaked secret, the surrounding chaos, in two perfectly chosen syllables.

Ollie was speechless, utterly star-struck and simultaneously terrified. He just nodded dumbly.

Kimi pushed himself off the wall. He glanced towards the motorhome door where Lira was presumably still hidden, then back at Ollie. His expression didn't change, but Ollie sensed the silent question about Lira had already been answered moments before. Kimi looked Ollie up and down for a moment, his gaze surprisingly direct, analytical.

Young. Looks stressed. Good.

Stress meant he understood the situation, maybe. Needs to focus.

"Drive the car," Kimi said simply. It was the only thing that mattered in this circus.

Another pause.

Then, Kimi offered the barest hint of something that might, in the right light, be interpreted as reassurance, or perhaps just a statement of reality.

"Is what it is." This is the world you chose. This is the world she is connected to.

"Handle it."

He gave another almost imperceptible nod, then turned and walked away down the service lane as quietly and unobtrusively as he had appeared, melting back into the background anonymity he valued so highly. Job done. Checked Lira. Warned the boy. Spoke to Fred. Time for a drink, maybe.

Ollie stood frozen, watching him go, his mind reeling. Kimi Räikkönen. Here. He hadn’t shouted, hadn’t threatened, hadn’t demanded explanations. Just… appeared. Stated the obvious. Offered two pieces of characteristically blunt advice: focus on the job, handle the noise. And maybe, just maybe, offered a silent, understated form of support, an acknowledgment that simply being associated with Kimi Räikkönen came with this kind of unavoidable "big noise".

A moment later, Ayao Komatsu appeared at the back door, looking slightly flustered himself. He'd been alerted by security about Kimi's unexpected arrival seeking Lira, managed the brief access to the secure room, and then intercepted Kimi again on his way out, likely receiving similarly blunt, minimal communication. Komatsu exchanged a brief, quiet word with Ollie – "He was here. Spoke with Lira. Then you. Said... 'handle it'." Ayao shook his head slightly, a look of mingled stress and bemusement on his face. "Only Kimi." He clapped Ollie on the shoulder. "Right. Engineering meeting. Focus, Ollie. Drive the car, like the man said." Komatsu then disappeared back inside, leaving Ollie alone in the service lane.

The Iceman's brief, almost spectral appearances, devoid of drama yet loaded with unspoken meaning, sent a quiet shockwave through Ollie, more profound than all the shouting media and buzzing phones. It was surreal, terrifying, and strangely, unexpectedly grounding.

The hurricane was raging, but perhaps, just perhaps, they weren't entirely alone in the storm.

Masterlist | Previous chapter | Next chapter

#oliver bearman #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #ollie bearman x reader #f1 fanfic #ollie bearman x oc #f1 x oc #oliver bearman x oc #formula 1 #ob87 #Paddock Confidential

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beevelvet · 4 days ago

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Varek Maddox (fictional oc)

Varek Maddox — actor. model. enigma.

He walks into the room like he owns the place, every inch of him radiating confidence. Those steely eyes flick over you, sharp and calculating, as if he’s already decided whether you’re worth his time — and you can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same thing about himself. His smile, part flirt, part challenge, curves up at one side, the kind that promises trouble, the kind that makes you lean in without even knowing why.

"I’m not here to be liked," he says, voice low and dangerous, like a whisper you feel in your chest. "But you’re going to want to get closer."

Varek knows what it’s like to have the world at his feet, and he doesn’t mind using that power to draw you in. His charm? Effortless. His touch? Electric. But behind the fame, the flashing lights, and the magazine covers, lies something darker — something dangerous, something real. His reputation precedes him, and it’s a reputation that haunts him as much as it seduces you.

You can sense it — the tension in the air, the silent dare. Will you take the bait?

Varek Maddox doesn’t play by the rules. He doesn’t need to. But you? You might just end up playing right into his hands.

Appearance — Effortlessly lethal

Height: 6’2” — tall enough to dominate a room without trying

Build: Lean and athletic — cut like a swimmer or fighter, not bulky but defined (you know the type: the veins show when it counts)

Hair: Jet black, slightly tousled, long enough to finger-comb back or fall into his eyes; sometimes styles it slicked when he’s feeling dangerous

Eyes: Grey with steel-blue flecks — unnervingly direct, like he sees straight through you (and likes what he sees)

Jawline: Sharp enough to make headlines — probably been voted “Best Jawline in Hollywood” twice

Tattoos: Discreet but lethal — a black snake coiled around his right wrist, faint script (Latin or something cryptic) on his ribs

Style:

Off-set: leather jacket, slim black jeans, rings on his fingers (especially thumb or forefinger), worn boots

On the red carpet: midnight-black tailored suits, no tie, top buttons undone just enough to scandalize

Personality Quirks — Why you can’t quit him

Voice: Deep, slightly rough — that kind of rumble that curls low when he says your name

Smile: Crooked half-smirk — says “I’m trouble and you’re going to thank me for it”

Habit: Flicks his thumb against his lower lip when thinking (drives people wild)

Signature line: “Careful. I bite back harder.”

Hidden soft spot: Has a weakness for stray animals (caught on paparazzi once feeding a street cat at 2 AM — denies it, but the photo is iconic)

Started modeling at 19 after being “discovered” in a bar fight photo that went viral (yes, that jawline even looked good mid-punch)

Transitioned into acting fast — turns out, the bad boy can cry on command and deliver Oscar-tier monologues

Constant rumors about his off-screen hookups, but strangely? No scandals stick. He’s untouchable

Has a feud with a major director (perfect RP rival material)

Grew up rough — working-class background, ran from home at 17 — never talks about his family

Secret passion: photography (he shoots black-and-white portraits when no one’s watching — another layer to bait RPers deeper)

Smut oc request him if you dare.

#BadBoyVibes #ToxicAttraction #indie smut rp character #oc rp #oc rp blog #writing #Varek Maddox

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polizwrites · 2 months ago

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PoliZ's WIP Update - 19 Mar 2025

Real Life clearly took precedence/kicked my ass over the past month or so - I’ve had precious little time/energy/inspiration for writing. 🥺 But I hopefully am bouncing back, as I touched 3 fics (2 new and 1 WIP) for a total of 1581 words this week.

On Ao3, I posted:

Chapter Three of Peresmešnik, (aka Three Avengers and a Baby) -Bucky, Steve and Tony accidental baby acquisition genfic

A Dark and Stormy Knight - WinterIron medieval AU double drabble

Redirected Aim - Winter Soldier!Bucky & young!Tony canon divergence

Chapter Four of Carrying Things Forward - WinterIron No Powers omegaverse

A Way with Words - WinterIron High School AU ficlet

Sharing Space - IronAnt (Tony/Scott) semi-established relationship road trip one shot.

Putting a Shine on Things - Tony & Bucky workshop bonding ficlet.

On Tumblr I posted:

Brunch Experimentation - WinterIron No Powers Workplace AU ficlet

I’m juggling 11-ish active/semi-active WIPs with my current deadlines being the Bucky Barnes and Tony Stark bingos.

See below cut for what I’m working on/planning to work on - arranged more or less by bingos/challenges/etc. As always, feel free to send me prompts or plot bunnies as well as asks regarding any of these projects or any other WIPs I’ve got out there. Interaction really helps feed the Muse and keep me motivated!

Character A/Character B Bingo [CACBB] (February Card - ends 28 Feb)

The Character A/Character B blog & Discord server run a bingo where you get monthly 3x3 themed cards - I managed two fills on my February Rare Pair Bingo card - might sign up for April’s card if I get my writing mojo back on a semi-consistent basis.

* A3 - A & B going on a spontaneous road trip - Posted Sharing Space on 21 Feb - it’s an IronAnt (Tony/Scott) one shot that is kind of a follow up to Piece of the Action. It also filled my FFB Feb - B1 - Nobody took the couch square and BB A1 - First Night square. .

* C1 - A&B pulling a prank on someone together - combined this with the Flash Fic Friday prompt [#FFF291 Stuff of Legends] for Boomeranged - a HawkAnt (Clint Barton/Scott Lang) prankfic leading to love confessions. It came in at 974 words.

Bucky Barnes Bingo - Round Six [BBB - R6] (Ends 31 Mar)

This amazing bingo event from the folks over at @buckybarnesbingo is still in progress. I have twenty-five fills with one WIP at the moment - not sure I’ll get anything else done.

I did participate in the March Round Robin fic - writing 178 words to wrap the fic up - should be posting sometime later this week.

* U3 - Yelena Belova - Posted the third and final chapter of my collab with Magica: Peresmešnik, (aka Three Avengers and a Baby). It features Tony’s interactions with Mirriam, and a revelation about her parentage (the prompt kinda gives it away). It came in at 922 words.

* Adoptable Nov - Canon: Animated Series - I picked this up intending to do something with the What If … Captain Carter were the First Avenger? episode from Season One, but Season 3’s What If… The Red Guardian Stopped the Winter Soldier? is the perfect fanfic fodder. I plan on keeping my fic platonic between Alexie and the Soldier, but there will be some shenanigans - I’ve got 366 words towards the fic after re-watching the episode, but need to figure out how to wrap it up before the end of the month.

Beginnings Bingo [BB_24] (Ends 30 Apr 2025)

This new all-fandoms bingo event (courtesy of @sweetspicybingo) celebrates beginnings. I’ve got a 3x3 card and have two fills so far - would like to get at least one bingo before it wraps up!

* A1 - First Night - see CACBB - * A3 - A & B going on a spontaneous road trip above

* A2 - first impression - Combined this with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF289 Blinding Gaze] for Close Encounters of the Blue-Eyed Kind - a Stony College AU meet cute/meet ugly with Tony literally running into Steve. It came in as a double drabble (200 words) and will get posted to Ao3 before the event ends.

Tony Stark Bingo - Mark VIII [TSB_R8] (Ends 31 May)

This amazing bingo event from the folks over at @tonystarkbingo is still open for pre-made card signups, I believe. I have twenty-eight squares filled - may try to pick up another adoptable or two before the event ends.

* S1 - Bodyguard - Posted A Dark and Stormy Knight to Ao3 - it’s a vaguely medieval AU WinterIron AU double drabble which crossed over with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF276 Dark and Stormy Night].

* T3 - KINK: praise kink Combined this with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF290 Midnight Distractions] Sweet (Tech) Talk where a pining!Steve visits Tony’s workshop late at night and the way he’s sweet-talking his tech sends Steve’s mind right into the gutter. It came in at 456 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event is over.

* Oct Adoptable: Facial Hair Bros - Filled this with New Kid in Town- a double drabble that crossed over with the Flash Fic Friday prompt [#FFF287 I Can’t Stand It]. Tony is complaining to Pepper about that so-called wizard stealing his look - she thinks Tony doth protest too much. It came in at 200 words and will get posted to Ao3 before this event ends.

* A1 - Evil Exes - ended up squishing this into Chapter Three of Carrying Things Forward. This fic is a followup to my omegaverse fic A Little Bit Carried Away where Alpha!Bucky has moved in with omega!Tony and they’re figuring out their relationship, including some difficult parts of their pasts. Working on Chapter Five, which will revisit the Evil Ex topic and is sitting at 466 words.

Post July Break Bingo 2024 [pJBB_24] (Ends 30 Jun 2025)

I requested two 2x3 cards for this Discord-server only event from @julybreakbingo – so if you want to join in the fun, let me know and I’ll try to get you an invite! I have seven fics posted & 0 WIPs - need to figure out some more crossovers.

* C1_B2 - Learning to accept that what happened to them wasn't their fault - Filled this with Chapter Four of Carrying Things Forward, where (after a bit of smut) Bucky discovers a bit more about Tony’s evil ex and resolves to make things better for his beloved. This chapter crossed over with my YOTP - February: Bed sharing prompt and FFB - Morning Erection square and came in at 1062 words.

Fandom Free Bingo - FFB

The @fandom-free-bingo blog offers up themed cards on a monthly basis - either 3x3 or 5x5 - you have a year to create your fanworks if you want them reblogged.

Gingerbread Edition (December) - Ends 30 Nov 2025

Three of nine fills completed - no WIPs at the moment

* C1 - Juice - Filled this in combination with the Flash Fic Friday prompt [#FFF296 Before the party’s over] and the YOTP March: “What are you doing with that?” prompt for It Takes a Miracle (Berry) - a No Powers workplace AU where Tony brings something to experiment with at the monthly team brunch; his crush gets involved. It came in at 526 words and will get posted to Ao3 before the event is over.

Half-Baked Edition (February) - Ends 31 Jan 2026

Two of nine fills completed - no WIPs at the moment.

* A2 - Morning Erection - see pJBB - C1_B2 - Learning to accept that what happened to them wasn't their fault above.

* B1 - Nobody took the couch - see CACBB - A3 - A & B going on a spontaneous road trip above

Year of the OTP [YOTP_25] (Ends Dec 31 2025)

Decided to jump in on this challenge where you create (at least) twelve works for a specific pairing by using the monthly prompts provided.

* January - Stockholm Syndrome - Posted Redirected Aim to Ao3 this Winter Soldier & young!Tony ficlet combined this prompt with the Flash Fiction Friday prompt [#FFF288 Loud Lie, Quiet Truth] for Redirected Aim . The Soldier’s mission had been to retrieve the serum Howard Stark had reformulated, leaving no witnesses. He chose a different target. It came in at 685 words.

* February - Bed Sharing - Managed to get Chapter 4 of Carrying Things Forward posted on time - see pJBB - C1_B2 - Learning to accept that what happened to them wasn't their fault above.

* March - “What are you doing with that?” - see FFB December C1 - Juice above.

Warm and Fluffy Bingo [WFB] (no end date)

Nine fills on my card, courtesy of @warmandfluffybingocards - need to try for another crossover or two!

* G1 - Kiss on the Forehead - Filled this with A Damper on Dinner - a domestic Stony ficlet where a power outage threatens their romantic dinner. It came in at 151 words and will get posted to Ao3 at some point.

————

On other creative fronts: I’m working on a Fourth Doctor (Tom Baker - Doctor Who) figure for a custom commission. I’ve finished my final Marvel Trumps Hate 2024 auction fill: Steven Grant in his asylum outfit and am waiting to hear back from my Fandom Trumps Hate Craft Bazaar winner to see what I get to make for them!

If you’re looking for one of a kind gifts for birthdays or other celebrations, check out Stuffed With Character over on Facebook for a full list of my designs (now over 150!). These soft stuffed figures are mostly Marvel and monsters, but I have some Star Wars, Star Trek, DC and Disney figures as well. Plus I love to take custom design requests for any fandom! I do have one commission slot open this month - feel free to reach out via DM or to [email protected]!

#writing stuff #wip update #wip wednesday #shameless self promo

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julieduffy · 1 year ago

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7 Ways To Write Flash Fiction with Windy Lynn Harris

In this revist of my interview with writer Windy Lynn Harris, we talk about Seven Ways to Write Flash Fiction, a skill that is extremely handy during the upcoming StoryADay challenge Sign up for the challenge at StoryADay.org

CHAPTERS: 1:16 Flash art comes organically when being open.

6:58 Flash fiction: creative, short, under 500 words.

12:28 Be specific in short flash fiction writing.

13:05 Editing is essential for shorter pieces.

17:37 Essential aspect of storytelling, representing a moment.

19:32 Woman faces fear, mystery, and self-discovery.

23:27 Enjoy working on soliloquies and rants in writing.

26:56 Background, training influence the form of writing.

29:13 Accessing your authentic voice is essential.

33:08 Writers adapting to shorter work during pandemic.

36:51 Creativity can flourish without lofty goals.

41:05 Distraction in the world, set timer, create.

43:12 First book on writing short stories.

46:12 Strategic shorts can boost writing career prospects.

49:43 Writing needs community for support, progress, success.

54:27 Exciting prompts for daily creative writing in May.

The StoryADay Podcast

#writing #podcast #writing tips #storyaday

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randombouquet · 1 year ago

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Hello,

So this page is to try and experiment and grow creatively, finding ways to integrate AI to assist me in that (shout out to my fav collaborator Chat GPT). Taking daily time to try and flex and train those muscles with only myself to be accountable and disappoint.

We're starting off with a 30 day creativity challenge with small tasks and some big to keep me motivated and undettered.

Here's the outline:

30-Day Creativity Challenge for Your Blog

Day 1: Micro-Story MagicWrite a 100-word story based on the first object you see today.

Day 2: Snap & CaptionTake a photo of your morning routine and write a captivating caption.

Day 3: Mood PlaylistCreate and share a playlist that reflects your current mood, along with a brief description of your song choices.

Day 4: One-Sentence JournalSum up your day in one powerful sentence.

Day 5: Color Palette ChallengeCapture photos of objects in your surroundings that create a compelling color palette when put together.

Day 6: Character CreationWrite a brief introduction to a character you've just thought up, complete with quirks, likes, and dislikes.

Day 7: Photo RecreationRecreate a famous artwork or photograph in your style.

Day 8: Flash FictionWrite a 300-word flash fiction piece inspired by the word "Discovery".

Day 9: Virtual TourCreate a photo or video tour of your favorite spot in your home or city and describe why it's special to you.

Day 10: Quote InterpretationShare a quote that resonates with you and create a visual interpretation (drawing, photo, digital art).

Day 11: Review in HaikuWrite a haiku review of the last book, movie, or TV show you enjoyed.

Day 12: Shadow PlayTake a series of photos focusing on interesting shadows during different times of the day.

Day 13: The Sound of EmotionsRecord and share ambient sounds that represent your current mood, with a brief explanation.

Day 14: Dialogue ChallengeWrite an intriguing dialogue between two people who just met in an unusual circumstance.

Day 15: Creative CollageCreate a digital or physical collage that represents your week.

Day 16: Life in MonochromeCapture your day in black and white photos.

Day 17: Dreamy DescriptionsDescribe the most recent dream you remember with vivid details.

Day 18: Silhouette StoryPhotograph silhouettes during the golden hour and weave a short story around them.

Day 19: Letter to YourselfWrite a letter to your future or past self and seal it in an envelope (to be opened later).

Day 20: Nostalgia TripShare a childhood photo and narrate the memory associated with it.

Day 21: Recipe RemixInvent and photograph a new dish by remixing ingredients from two of your favorite meals.

Day 22: Urban SafariCapture the wildlife of your city (birds, insects, pets) through your lens.

Day 23: Minimalist ChallengeCompose and photograph a minimalist scene that conveys a strong emotion or story.

Day 24: Echo PoemWrite a poem where each line is a response or reflection to the previous one.

Day 25: Time-Lapse ArtCreate a time-lapse video of you drawing, painting, or crafting.

Day 26: Perspective PhotographyTake a photo that plays with perspective in an unusual way (e.g., forced perspective photography).

Day 27: Found PoetryCreate a piece of found poetry using headlines from old newspapers or magazines.

Day 28: Themed PhotoshootPlan and execute a themed photoshoot, detailing the process and inspiration.

Day 29: DIY DecorCreate and showcase a DIY decor project for your home or workspace.

Day 30: Reflection and ProjectionReflect on the 30-day creativity challenge with a blog post summarizing the experience, your favorite entries, and what you've learned about your creativity.

#Ai #creative writing #creative challenge #new blog #concepting #creative

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rosecreer · 2 years ago

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25 Years of Childhood, Kids Show Arthur Finally Ends.

'Arthur is based on the children’s books written and illustrated by Marc Brown. It is set in the fictional city of Elwood City. Each episode teaches children about development, friendships and valuable life lessons.'

Many adults who grew up watching Arthur praised the show for diversity and the lessons they learnt from this group of children growing up and making memories. But how did the show Arthur succeed in creating so many episodes?

Often, educational programmes before Arthur aired in 1996 were mostly live action entertainment until the entirely animated tv show The Magic School Bus in 1994. Arthur was accessible on most televisions, and carefully balanced entertainment with educational lessons.

'Arthur created a space where kids’ opinions, feelings, and experiences mattered. The storylines and dialogue never belittled nor condescended to its audience, but instead honoured the high emotional stakes of its characters’ circumstances. The plot was viewed from an authentic child lens, while still offering the wisdom of an adult through its conclusive life lessons.'

Writer Marc Brown believed that 'children are owed the truth' about life and experiences, not flashed in pretty colours and presented through rose tinted glasses. Different children lead different lives and they all deserve to be understood and represented, each child is an individual and should 'believe in yourself' as the intro theme repeats before every episode. Some experience extreme trauma, some have an unforgettable embarrassing moment but the most important part is that this is normalised.

Arthur never strayed away from discussing how to deal with the topics of the time, an episode was released following the events of September 11th teaching children how to deal with tragedy and loss, whereas episodes released during the Covid-19 pandemic discussed the importance of handwashing and wearing a mask.

Sometimes children need to develop their emotional intelligence and empathy, and watching a show where their favourite characters experience difficulties, challenges or even have happy moments teaches children important lessons on how everyone copes differently to life. Emotional intelligence is better taught through examples rather than being told by the book, and this is what the show provided for many years and many episodes.

Fitzpatrick, F. (2022). How Arthur became the longest-running animated children’s show ever. [online] The A.V. Club. Available at: https://www.avclub.com/how-arthur-became-the-longest-running-animated-children-1848652529.

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limejuicer1862 · 2 years ago

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#TheWildness. Day 24. Imagine you could communicate with one animal species. Which species would you choose and what would you ask them? Please join Jane Dougherty and me in celebrating wildness all this month. I tried to get permission from the Wildlife Trust to use their #3ODaysWild as prompts but it was not forthcoming, so here are my own prompts with a little help from chatgbt. I will feature your draft published/unpublished poetry/short prose/artworks using the following prompts. Please include a short third person bio. Numbers refer to dates in June: Day 1. Describe the sounds you hear when you step outside your home. How does nature contribute to this musical work? 2. Write a letter to a tree or plant that you encounter on your daily walk. What would you say to it? 3. Imagine you could transform into any animal for a day. Which animal would you choose and why? 4. Write a short story about a magical encounter with a wild animal in your backyard. 5. Describe a peaceful moment spent observing a body of water. What emotions does it evoke in you? 6. Write a poem inspired by the vibrant colours and patterns of a butterfly's wings. 7. Imagine you are a wildlife photographer. Describe the most breathtaking picture you have taken during your challenge. 8. Write about a favourite childhood memory spent in nature. How did it shape your connection with the natural world? 9. Create a dialogue between two different species of birds perched on a branch. What would they talk about? 10. Describe the texture and scent of wildflowers you encounter on your nature walks. How do they make you feel? 11. Write a persuasive essay on the importance of conserving and protecting local wildlife habitats. 12. Imagine you are a nature guide. Describe a walk you would take visitors on to showcase the beauty and diversity of your local environment. 13. Write a poem about the changing seasons and how they affect the behaviour of wildlife. 14. Imagine you are a detective investigating the disappearance of a rare animal. Describe your search for clues in the natural world. 15. Write a poem/flash fiction about a mischievous squirrel that causes chaos in your garden. 16. Describe a special moment when you felt truly connected to nature. What did it teach you about yourself and the world around you? 17. Write a letter to future generations, urging them to protect and cherish the natural world. 18. Create a detailed observation log of a specific species of bird that you have been monitoring throughout the challenge. 19. Write a poem inspired by the soothing sounds of a flowing stream or river. 20. Imagine you are a nature-inspired artist. Describe the masterpiece you would create using materials found in the great outdoors. 21. Write a short story about a group of friends who embark on an unforgettable camping trip in the wilderness. 22. Describe the most fascinating insect you have encountered during your challenge. What makes it unique? 23. Write a diary entry from the perspective of a tree, chronicling its experiences and the changes it witnesses over the course of a year. 24. Imagine you could communicate with one animal species. Which species would you choose and what would you ask them? 25. Describe a magical sunrise or sunset you have witnessed during your journey. How did it make you feel? 26. Write a letter to a future self, reflecting on the impact of the challenge on your relationship with nature. 27. Imagine you are a character in a wildlife-themed adventure novel. Describe the perilous situation you find yourself in and how you escape. 28. Write a poem celebrating the diversity and resilience of nature, even in the face of human challenges. 29. Describe the feeling of walking barefoot on cool, damp grass. How does it connect you to the Earth? 30. Write a short story about a hidden, enchanted forest where magical creatures dwell. What adventures await those who discover it? Feel free to adapt these prompts to suit your writing style or preferences.

Old Moor Bird photo by Paul Brookes Wolf, where are you? I know you’re there, lying low. Not in these quiet meadows and wooded slopes perhaps, but along Garonne’s broad reaches harried by flood waters, where farm buildings sink beneath the weight of ivy, wooden planking falls like flakes of slate. Wolf, where are you? Down there amid the forest-tangle, the woodland left untended, plantations…

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fanovember · 7 months ago

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IT'S FINALLY HERE, PEOPLE, OUR PROMPT LIST FOR THIS YEAR'S FANOVEMBER!!! (Written list below the line)

We decided to go through literary genres this time, although you can fit the prompt however you please (by using the literal word in your piece, a small reference, or writing in the style of that prompt!)

→We'll be posting some ideas every day to spark creativity if any prompt in particular doesn't work well for you. Although you don't have to complete the challenge 100% (I won't, more on that later)

→There's no limit on extension at all, whatever you need will be fine. (At least 200 words was the initial idea, but I, for instance, sometimes need less)

→You can write in any language you want, we'll repost anyway. It's also valid if you mix languages! (I'll use Spanish since the media I've chosen is originally in that language)

→Arists are welcome too, of course!

→Remember to mention this blog @fanovember or use any (or all) of these tags:

#fanovember

#fanovember 2024

#fanovember 24

Personally, I don't think I'm completing the full list, as I'm absolutely surpassed by daily responsibilities. But since Softober went well, I'll choose 12 or 13 of the prompts that appeal to me the most and write those throughout the month. You can do whatever works best for you too, we don't want you to feel pressured by any means.

Choose your fandom (or fandoms) and start creating! Let's have some fun!!

Fanovember 2024

01. Romance

02. Short story

03. Terror

04. Adventure

05. Art

06. Retelling

07. Historical

08. Journal

09. Theatre

10. Witchcraft

11. Religion

12. Fantasy

13. Astrology

14. Mithology

15. Poetics

16. Reality show

17. Press

18. Urban fantasy

19. Film/Movie

20. Family

21. Music

22. Epistolary

23. Sci-fi

24. Autobiography

25. Cuisine

26. Dance

27. Board games

28. Classic

29. Triller

30. Flash-fiction

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writingdotcoffee · 2 years ago

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Writing Challenge: 3 Flash Fiction Pieces by 19 Feb

I want to feature a writing challenge from jshawng. He's writing three flash pieces for a competition run by Fractured.

The submission deadline is 19 February 2023. You can include two stories up to 1,000 words each per submission. Each submission is subject to a $20 reading fee. The winner gets $250 and the story will be included in their anthology.

In jshawng's words:

I like to use contests to help me finish short pieces of work, both flash fiction and short stories. For anyone interested, there is a flash fiction contest at https://fracturedlit.com. Click on current prize to see the contest ending 19-Feb. Pieces are 1,000 words or less. Use this challenge to write three flash fiction pieces between now and Feb 19th and if you so choose, submit your favourite before the contest submission deadline. Note - I am not affiliated with the group at all.

This is really smart. Using the contest to set a hard deadline for yourself is a great way to focus your mind and finish the story. You can easily write a flash piece in a day and move on.

I also like the approach of writing three stories and submitting the better two of them. This is awesome. It's not something you can do with a novel, but it makes so much sense when writing shorts.

When you're working on any story, your judgement is a little skewed. You will judge yourself way too harshly. Having to pick the best story out of a few will switch your brain into a different gear. You'll have to think like an editor for a bit. Comparing the stories against each other will make you a little more objective.

Join jshawng's challenge and write three flash pieces too! I'm planning to join myself.

Here's the link:

https://app.writinganalytics.co/challenge/63d9d5c7c88356cdb34338bb

#write #writers #writeblr #writing challenge #amwriting #flash fiction #writing #writing app

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i-found-you-justine-time · 4 years ago

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Varian’s Tangled Trials

A “Varian and the Seven Kingdoms” fan fiction.

Chapter 19. Sigrevet. 9802 Words.

The gang arrives in Ingvarr in time for the celebration of Sigrevet! Hugo is offered a choice.

Previous Chapters: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. 6. 7. 8. 9. 10. 11. 12 13. 14. 15. 16. 17. 18.

Varian finished rigging Prometheus to the wagon as Yong pushed a box of supplies into the back.

“Guess, that’s it then,” Varian muttered. “Ready for what’s next.” He turned and found the end of a sword pointed right between his eyes. “Aahh!” He yelled, startled.

Hector, the person at the other end of the sword, gave Varian a dark smile. “Sure you don’t wish to stay with us, Nephew? You’d only stand to benefit from our training. You’d have a much easier time with these challenges,” he asked.

Varian carefully pushed the blade away. “Oh, you know, that sounds really great and all but we’re kind of on a time crunch so we’ll have to make do the way we are… maybe next time?”

“Just be sure to be careful out there,” said Adira, walking up to the two of them, Ruddiger riding her shoulder. “Demantitus’s Eternal Library holds great power. There will be others who will seek out such power and try to use it for their own nefarious desires.” Hector nodded in agreement as he sheathed his sword.

Varian laughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Funny you should say that,” he said. “I think… well my mom’s old partner, Donella, might still be after the Library… and we might have upset her a bit… So yeah. There’s that.”

Adira’s eyes flashed but she quickly calmed herself and just gave a nod. “The grumpy one, yes. It wasn’t smart of you to cross her. She’s grown very powerful since we met her. She has great influence in Ingvarr.”

Yong walked over behind Varian. “Ingvarr… Varian, isn’t that where we’re going next?”

Varian’s eyes were on the ground. “Well? Yeah. But we have no choice. The Iron Trial is in the capital of Ingvarr.”

“No!” Shouted Hector. “You will not put yourself in danger like that! Forget this stupid errand and stay here where we can protect you!”

Varian looked up at Hector, his face dark and his eyes narrowed in anger. “Stupid errand?” “Varian?” said Yong softly, face full of concern and his hand reaching out for him hesitantly.

“Stupid errand?” Varian repeated, louder this time.

“Really, Varian,” said Adira. “There’s no need to be upset. Hector didn’t mean it that way. We’re just worried for your safety.”

“Safety,” spat Varian. “This is my mother’s life’s work! I thought you understood! But you’re sounding just like dad! The Library is important. It could help save Nuru’s Kingdom. It could help you rebuild yours! It could have solutions for hunger and disease. Isn’t that worth the risk?” He looked at Hector pleadingly, needing affirmation.

Hector looked back, face dark and serious as he considered Varian. After a moment he sighed and put a hand on Varian’s shoulder. “You show true bravery, Nephew. And just because I don’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not worth fighting for. Just be sure to watch your back.”

Varian smiled, placated by Hector’s words.

“Goggles?”

Hugo came running over. Hector dropped his hand from Varian’s shoulder and stepped back as Hugo rushed up and gently put his own hand on Varian’s shoulder. “I heard shouting,” he said, face anxious. “Is everything alright?”

Varian blushed and looked back over at Hector and Adira. “Yeah, it’s fine. Just got a little carried away there.”

“Passion is good when it’s properly directed,” said Adira. “Beanpole, Hairfluff, be sure to watch over Varian as you continue your journey. Make sure he’s safe.”

Hugo relaxed, his whole demeanor changing on a dime as he turned to Adira. He smirked and put his elbow on Varian’s shoulder, using him as an armrest. “Oh, no need to worry about this guy here. He can be scary when he wants to be. He can definitely take care of himself.”

Varian, while annoyed by Hugo leaning on him, looked surprised and touched by Hugo’s defense of him.

“Though, of course, having such a smart and talented alchemist like myself is very helpful,” added Hugo. Varian rolled his eyes and pushed Hugo off of him.

Just then, King Edmund and Nuru walked up, engaging in conversation. She handed him a letter as they approached the others.

“If you send this directly to the palace in Koto you’ll be able to start negotiating an alliance. I’ve explained everything and I’m sure my sister Zuri will be happy to help you once our own Kingdom is safe.”

“It is good to know that such kindness still exists in the world,” said King Edmund. “Thank you, Princess, for helping me put my pride aside.”

Nuru smiled at him. “Everyone needs help sometimes.”

“A wise observation.” King Edmund turned to all of them. “And we appreciate the help you all gave us. Please be sure to travel safely. And Varian, when you reach Corona do tell that son of mine that he needs to come visit me soon.”

Varian laughed and nodded. “Yeah, I’ll let him know,” he agreed.

“Varian,” said Adira, stepping forward again. “I have one more thing for you. Here” She pulled a stack of papers from her pocket and passed it to Varian. Once in his hands, he could see that it was letters bundled with a thin length of twine. “Letters from your father. Everything he wrote to me since going to live with your mother. You wanted to know more about them and about yourself so I figured these might help.” Varian’s face brightened. “Thanks! This is wonderful!” He threw his arms around Adira. She froze in surprise at the affection but soon patted Varian’s back. Hector rolled his eyes and came over and joined the hug as well. Then King Edmund put an arm around all of them giving a strong squeeze that crushed Varian a bit. Varian laughed and pulled back happily.

Ruddiger, still on Adira’s shoulder, gave her an affectionate nuzzle then hopped onto Varian’s back. Varian absentmindedly scratched behind Ruddiger’s ear as he looked up at the three adults. “Thanks,” he repeated. “It’s good to know I have a family on my side all the way out here in the Dark Kingdom.”

Everyone else had already gathered on the wagon and Varian climbed up into the seat next to Nuru. They set off down the road, waving until they were out of sight.

Adira, Hector, and King Edmund watched a moment longer. When the group was well on their way Adira and Hector shared a look.

“He will hate us if we try to interfere,” she said warningly.

Hector grimaced. “Better an angry nephew than a dead one. Besides, he doesn’t need to know if I keep my distance.”

“What’s this then?” asked King Edmund, confused.

Hector turned and bowed. “Permission to ensure the safety of Varian’s mission, Your Majesty.”

King Edmund thought it over. “We have made a lot of progress on our rebuilding efforts thanks to him and his friends. You being away for a few months shouldn’t hurt. Very well. You may have this mission. But take Hammuel with you so you can report back to me. And be sure to only interfere if it’s a matter of life or death.” Hammuel, who had been resting on the King’s shoulder, cawed and hopped over perch on Hector instead. He accidentally bumped into him and fell, but Hector scooped him out of the hair and placed him on his shoulder.

“Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you,” He whistled, and with a loud rumble a large intimidating rhinoceros already fitted with a saddle and bags ran to Hector’s side. He swung up onto the creature’s back. “Farewell, sister.” “Good luck, Hector,” said Adira, then herdace darkened. “If you meet the grumpy one, be sure to send my regards.”

Hector nodded and then urged the rhino forward. They set off into the woods, picking a slightly more northerly direction than the wagon just went. Read the rest of the chapter here!

#Varian's Tangled Trials #varian #vat7k #varigo

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minruko · 3 years ago

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(Hi! I'd like a match up from one piece, bnha and black clover! If I can't choose more then 1 tell me please! Also I apologize if I don't make any sense! my English isn't always the best)

ok first Im autistic and I have ADHD Im sensitive I have trouble with focusing and staying still I talk to myself a lot and in my mind I just live in a different world! I Get loud and interrupt others a lot without realizing it but I always apologize and feel bad Sometimes when I hear anything loud or smell something strong (can be normal sounds/smells to others) it irritates me a lot so I cover my nose/ears when that happens ☹️ also I get shy and quiet around new people or to people I'm not close to and when I sit down I move my leg/hands and figit lot and stand around just daydreaming unaware of my surroundings

pros

understanding/kind/energetic/creative/confident/ambitious/positive/forgiving/funny/intelligent/curious/protective/nerdy/thoughtful/imaginative/empathetic/friendly/spiritual

cons

Hyper sensitive/rushes a lot/hyper excited/lazy/ I don't always appreciate my self/I over explain a lot/impatient/challenging/blunt/mercilessly when loved ones are hurt/lose things easily/I forget dates and to take my medication/can be manipulative

Features: almond shaped dark brown eyes/black short curly hair/thick bushy brows/middle eastern Arab/short/curvy/big titties/hip dips/ beauty mark on my cheek and hands/high cheek bones/scars on stomach and thighs/small slit on my right eyebrow/strech marks on my shoulders and hips/sharp fangs/nose n ear piercings/I always change my fashion so I'm a mix of hippie/princess/nerd/witch/fairy/punk/goth/diva/baddie/alt

Pronouns: she/her gender preference: men

Zodiac: cancer I'm 21 so nobody under 19 pls!

Hobbies: drawing/painting/designing/writing/reading/shopping/watching animation/daydream/sleeping/Playing video games/yoga/meditations

likes: animals/art of any kind/fashion/science/history/fantasy/gemstones/coffee/fiction/marvel or DC/anime/cartoons/nature/moon/tarot cards/magic/aesthetics

Dislikes: anyone who's racist/sexist and more will get jumped by me oh and pickles

and I choose water

Pls let me know if there's something wrong and take your time! let me know when you get my request thanks!

match up below the cut! thanks for participating!!

i’ll do all of the fandoms bc i never really listed to pick only one, sorry for the inconvenience!!

彡ONE PIECE-

i match you with luffy! he loves your curiosity more than anything! when the crew docks on a new island you’re the first person he takes with him, keeping the noise and scent irritation in mind he places his hat on your head when he sees it’s about to happen and flashes you a wide grin telling you that it’s gonna be fine. he loves merciless you can be too he thinks it’s cool how this switch flips in your mind and you start kicking ass!

“hey let’s go on another adventure! nami says that there’s an island ahead let’s explore it together and don’t worry i’ll keep you safe!”

彡BLACK CLOVER-

i match you with yami! he’s well used to your random out bursts and even encourages them at the hide out say “hey my girlfriends got spunk!” when you say a random thought that’s on your mind. he teases you for not liking pickles eats them around you purposely as a joke so his kisses taste like pickles! he stopped after a day or two though he started to miss your kisses big time. he also enjoys taking naps with you after a long day snuggling with you in his bed is his favorite place to be.

“okay okay i’m sorry no more pickles i promise cross my heart and hope to die.”

彡MHA-

i match you with fatgum! he loves curvy women and loves your hip dips, even more, he says they’re special slots where he can place his hands. he is there to listen to any random thought you have even your outbursts which he find’s adorable. the two of you are the sweetest couple the hero world has ever seen. if he ever catches you saying something bad about yourself he just hits you with a compliment along with a soft kiss, there will be no lack of self-appreciation on his watch!

“wow honey that’s an interesting thought you have there, hey what was the thing you were talking about the other day something about comics?”

#one piece matchup #mha matchup #bnha matchup #black clover matchup #mini.event

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sunnydaleherald · 3 years ago

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The Sunnydale Herald Newsletter, Saturday, February 19th

WESLEY: (urging) You could go anywhere, you could leave. ILLYRIA: That's not possible. WESLEY: Of course it's possible. Are you telling me the great Illyria, idol of millions, was limited to one small dimension? ILLYRIA: I traveled all of them as I pleased. I walked worlds of smoke and half-truths, intangible. Worlds of torment and of unnamable beauty. Opaline towers as high as small moons. Glaciers that rippled with insensate lust. And one world with nothing but shrimp. I tired of that one quickly.

~~Underneath~~

[Drabbles & Short Fiction]

Hero (Andrew, Harry Potter crossover, G) by Alittleauthor

Correction (Faith/Dawn, G) by cmk418

Thankful (Buffy/Spike, M) by Blackmysteria

Once in the library (Buffy/Giles, G) by Darkness_133

A Place to Call Home (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by all_choseny

She Speaks Snake (Buffy, Harry Potter crossover, FR7) by Buffyworldbuilder

[Chaptered Fiction]

Jojo's Bizarre Adventure: Shadowed Suspicion, Chapter 332 (Ensemble, Jojo's Bizarre Adventure crossover, T) by madimpossibledreamer

The path to redemption, Chapter 104 (Scoobies, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

The Sun Also Rises Chapter 57 (Buffy, Dawn, Silmarillion crossover, T) by Grundy

Deeper than Blood, Chapter 14 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Blackmysteria

Its Just Like Catnip, But for Wolves, Chapter 11 (Willow, Teen Wolf crossover, E) by NiklausScratchIII

All But One, Chapter 15 (Buffy/Spike, E) by JWS1993

A new Quest, a new Fellowship, Chapter 17 (Ensemble, Lord of the Rings crossover, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

The Apocalypse is Here, Chapter 14 (Ensemble, Marvel Cinematic Universe crossover, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Flavor of the Week, Chapter 3 (Kendra, Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter crossover, G) by Alittleauthor

Alternating Skies and, of course, the Hellmouth, Chapter 4 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Popsy

A Witch and a Spider in New York, Chapter 5 (Willow, Spiderman crossover, T) by Aragorn_II_Elessar

Merry's Joy, Chapter 2 (Xander, Merry Gentry - Laurell K Hamilton crossover, T) by calikocat

Fall to Pieces, Chapter 3 (Spike/Drusilla, M) by LittleTayy

What Goes Around, Chapter 10 (Buffy/Spike, E) by Nine_reeds

Next Year's Girl, Chapter 1 (Xander, M) by Kylia

Her Happy Day, Chapter 2 (Buffy/Spike, PG-13) by Kanita

Come Back to Me, Chapter 19 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by honeygirl51885

The Fairytale, Chapter 9 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Dusty

Milkshakes & Motorcycles, Chapters 7-8 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by Grief Counseling

So That You Will Hear Me, Chapter 1 (Buffy/Spike, NC-17) by cawthraven

Out of Time: 1942, Chapter 23 (Buffy, Harry Potter crossover, FR18) by Jonayla

[Images, Audio & Video]

Artwork: Cordelia/Willow (worksafe) by frankierose

Gifset: Inspired by Twin Peaks // Season 1 Episode 4 // Rest in Pain (Buffy, worksafe) by buffysource

Fanvid: Buffy and Angel, The First Touch by SeleneandMichael

Fanvid: Angel (The Series) Tribute by Scarlet Speedster

Fanvid: Willow Rosenberg | Kiss The Go Goat [TW: Flashing] by Menial Fiend

Fanvid: Spike - A Grave Mistake by T

Fanvid: Angel and Spike | Superfruit by Guy.exe by Bangel_Boreanaz100

Fanvid: Willow Rosenberg & Tara Maclay by Elisabete Frade

Fanvid: Buffy and Angel | Pink In The Night by Buffyfandom

Video: Thesulac Demon's (from Ats: Are You Know or Have You Ever Been) by Nerd .World

Artwork: The Royals (Buffy/Spike, worksafe) by NMCIL

[Reviews & Recaps]

2x17 Passion by doctorbeverlycrusher

2x19 I Only Have Eyes For You by doctorbeverlycrusher

ReWatch: Buffy the Vampire Slayer - Season 3, Ep 2: Dead Man’s Party by kimannebb

[Fandom Discussions]

Nothing to me is as telling to Angel’s character as when Xander does that gentle bullying to him by bleedingastigmatism

[Xander as Buffy’s heart and being in Dracula’s thrall] by chasingfictions

[Blood Ties: Spike & Dawn slumber party] by disco-tea

30 Days of Buffy Challenge, Day 16, Saddest Scene: Buffy, Forever by ex-vengeancedemon

Maybe we could get some Bangelus and Spuffy flirting [in new book “Big Bad”] by oveliagirlhaditright

I honestly wouldn’t mind a show about Fray by oveliagirlhaditright

Angel is an albino crow by purlplebat

[How did Willow get into Tara’s room in Superstar?] by starsandmoongay

[The comparison between Tara and Giles in the Under Your Spell/Standing reprise] by theglassphantom

Buffy and the trope of “not like other girls” by writing-quietly

Thoughts on Jenny Calendar by Stoney

[AtS] Season four by dabzandjabz

Buffy’s boyfriends by Crimedramagirl

How did Adam get in and out of room 314 without being detected by AintNothinbutaGFring

What is a vampires soul? by rdh_3000

When She Was Bad by dabzandjabz

Just rip it out [Spike's chip] by TheEpicSpire

Did the episode 'As You Were' redeem Riley in your eyes? by PFTETOwerewolves

The timeline of the end of Season One makes no sense by NotAnotherEmpire

S5E19, Tough Love. How do you feel about Buffy disciplining Dawn after The Scoobies were having fun tutoring her? by InfiniteMehdiLove

Rude lines or moments in Buffy or Angel you didn't get as a youngster by Hot-Orange-2958

Submit a link to be included in the newsletter!

Join the editor team :)

#btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #ats #angel the series

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emachinescat · 4 years ago

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By Night My Mind

A Tales of Arcadia: Wizards Fan-Fiction

by @emachinescat

@febuwhump day 19 - sleep deprivation

Summary: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy.” In the aftermath of the final battle against the Arcane Order, Douxie is plagued by guilt and nightmares about his part in Merlin’s death, and decides that he’s better off staying awake, which his battered and weary body does not take well. Written for Febuwhump on Tumblr. Day 19: sleep deprivation

Characters: Douxie, Archie, Jim, Claire

Words: 4,719

TW: None

Notes: Sequel to “Dying Is Easy, Living (Without You) Is Harder,” and set in the same universe as “That I Could Fear a Door” and “Lest Back that Awful Door Should Spring.” In this version of events, Douxie doesn’t have to leave with Nari, and is trying to adjust back to life in Arcadia after the events of “Dying Is Easy.”

Keep reading here, or on AO3!

If you enjoy, please consider liking, commenting, or re-blogging, and you can follow me for more content like this! :)

- From “Sonnet 27” by William Shakespeare

Weary with toil, I haste me to my bed,

The dear repose for limbs with travel tired;

But then begins a journey in my head

To work my mind, when body’s work’s expired…

Lo! thus, by day my limbs, by night my mind,

For thee, and for myself, no quiet find.

The night after his battle with the Arcane Order, Douxie slept more soundly than he could ever remember. His near-death experience had left him with a litany of aches, pains, cuts, bruises, a couple of fractured ribs and a lot of unanswered questions - it should have been impossible for him to survive a fall from that height; every bone in his body should have been broken, and no one knew how he was still alive - but still he slept, his final meeting with Merlin and the restored Morgana fresh on his mind and a soothing balm through the night.

The trouble came the day after, when he nodded off while curled up on his couch with The Sword in the Stone distracting him from some unpleasant thoughts and a nagging guilt that had begun to crop up, slowly but steadily, over the course of his day. No one knew that the hokey, mostly plotless Disney movie was his favorite, and he preferred to keep it that way. It had always amused him, Merlin as a bit of a crackpot and Arthur a poor young boy running around after a magical master who only halfway knew what he was doing at any given time - it reminded him of himself, and of home.

But he was exhausted from the muscle relaxer he’d been prescribed when Jim and Claire had practically kidnapped him and forced him to let Jim’s mom, a doctor, examine him, and he fell asleep right when Mad Madam Mim issued her challenge to Merlin and for a few wonderful moments, there was nothing, and he could rest.

He woke with a yell only minutes later (Merlin was now turning into a germ to outwit the atrocious purple dragon), fighting desperately against the effects of the muscle relaxers that were already trying to pull him under again. He couldn’t even remember what it was that woke him, what he’d seen in his dreams, but it didn’t matter. Whatever it was - and he had a good idea - it left him trembling, short of breath, on the verge of tears.

“Douxie?”

Archie padded into the room and hopped up on the couch beside his friend, eyes full of concern behind his glasses.

“I’m fine, Archie. Just a nightmare.”

“I miss him, too,” the cat said solemnly, reflective gaze compassionate and sad as he observed his human friend. “Perhaps we should talk--”

“Talking won’t bring him back,” Douxie snapped, and Archie flinched back the tiniest amount and fell silent, looking more like a chastised pet than Douxie had ever seen him. The wizard sighed. “I’m sorry, Archie. I just don’t want to talk, that's all.” He rubbed the furry head with distracted affection, then moved from the couch and pulled up a hard-backed kitchen chair, and sat in that.

He didn’t feel like sleeping so much anymore, even if the burning of his eyes told him otherwise. He turned off the movie - it suddenly held no appeal. The Disney+ main screen took its place, and he clicked on something at random. He was so caught up in his bleak mood and dark thoughts that he didn’t even realize for a solid ten minutes that he was watching Hannah Montana.

***

Dr. Lake called him at five and asked how the muscle relaxers were treating him - “Are they keeping the pain and back spasms at bay? Are you taking them with food? Have you been able to rest?” Douxie placated her with lies on all accounts, but the truth was that he was sore even with the medicine, he hadn't taken it with food because he couldn't bring himself to eat, and every time he closed his eyes he felt the unfathomable pain of being run through all over again, or, worse, he saw Merlin kneeling over him, sacrificing his life for Douxie’s stupid mistake, and that wasn’t worth any benefits rest gave him.

***

He did finally fall asleep that night around eleven, not by choice - he’d been forced to take another muscle relaxer when the pain in his ribs and back crescendoed to nearly unbearable levels, and the drug worked quickly despite his best efforts to stay awake.

The dream was, at the beginning, not good, but not nightmare material, either. He found he was reliving his final conversation with Merlin, in that Nowhere between life and death where his mentor had waited patiently for him to arrive before moving on at last, after 900 long years.

At first the conversation was much the same as it had been, and Douxie found a thread of comfort in Merlin’s reassurances - I told you, my boy, I chose to die for you. I want no part of a world without you in it. And I am happy, reunited with my dear friend and first apprentice, ready to step into the next chapter.

But this time, right before Merlin stepped through the door into the light, he turned and contemplated his grieving apprentice with a cold look. “Although,” he said, accusation seeping from every word, “it is true that I wouldn’t have had to give my life for you if you hadn’t bungled things up so much in the first place.”

Douxie felt his heart stutter to a stop and he stammered, “W-what?”

“Couldn’t leave well enough alone, could you?” Merlin hissed, his eyes flashing dangerously. “It was my fight. And if you were going to interfere, why not cast some other spell that kept us both out of harm’s way?”

Floundering for any purchase on solid ground, Douxie finally managed, “I didn’t know how - the magic, it just responded -”

“You were always good at making excuses, Hisirdoux,” the wizard snarled. “The faith I thought I had in your abilities was obviously misplaced.” A terrible, eternal beat of silence. Then - “Perhaps I should have let you die after all. It’s no more than you deserve.”

“But Master -”

“I’m done with you.” With a dismissive wave of his arm, Merlin stomped into the waiting light of the unknown, muttering, “Might as well enjoy your life since you ended mine to save it.”

And Douxie was left alone in the between-space, and the tower crumbled around him in time with his soul, and he let it bury him, book after book crashing on his head, and he hoped that this time, he wouldn’t wake up at all….

It’s all my fault.

He woke up crying, not screaming, and shortly after he flushed the muscle relaxers while Archie wasn’t looking (the wise familiar would most certainly have not approved), splashed his face with icy water, and grabbed his well-read copy of The Catcher in the Rye and forced his eyes across the familiar words in a vain attempt to distract him from the loathing and pain and guilt that screamed through his aching head and pounded out a tattoo of shame that persisted through the lonely, sleepless night.

***

Two days later, he returned to work, and his manager stared openly at his disheveled appearance. Douxie had slept a grand total of four hours since he’d tossed the pills, and those had been intermittent catnaps that his body had forced him to take. Eventually, though the thought of using his magic made his skin crawl now after what it had done to Merlin, he conjured a simple alarm clock that sensed when he fell asleep and screeched metal core at him every time it happened.

He knew he looked bad - he’d seen a glimpse of himself in the mirror before he left. His face was thinner than usual, pinched in pain that tylenol just wasn’t cutting through - but anything else would make him fall asleep. Although all of the bruising was centralized around his back and chest and invisible beneath his rumpled t-shirt, it looked like he’d been punched in both eyes, with the dark, puffy circles accenting each one. He’d been too out of it to properly bother with styling his hair, or brushing it, if he were honest, and he was pretty sure he was wearing two different combat boots. They were both black, though, so maybe no one would notice. He didn’t have the energy to care if they did.

“Damn,” said his manager, Jeff. “I think you came back from sick leave a little too soon, man. You look awful.”

Douxie shrugged, not trusting himself to speak. He’d been screaming from one emotion to the next with no warning ever since he woke up, and even though he felt rather empty at the moment, he knew it was distinctly possible that if he opened his mouth he might start crying against his will.

“I think you should go back home. Have you seen a doctor?”

Douxie grunted in affirmation.

“Go home until you’re feeling better, Douxie. Seriously, man, you have to take care of yourself.”

The hollowness inside of him filled with irritation at the dismissal. “I’m fine,” he growled sullenly.

His manager blinked, surprised at the tone. Douxie had always been a model employee, respectful and fun to be around.

“You’re going to scare customers away,” Jeff insisted. “You can’t wait tables like this - people will be afraid you’ll give them whatever plague you’ve come down with.”

With a snarl, Douxie spat, “Why can’t things just go back to normal?” He stormed out before his bewildered manager could answer.

***

The next afternoon, someone knocked at his door. He cast a suspicious side-eye at Archie, who sat innocently on the table, tail tucked contritely around his carefully arranged paws as he studied Merlin’s magic book, the one Douxie had refused to touch since returning home. Archie had disappeared for a short time earlier, flapping out of the window in dragon form and saying that he was just going for a short flight to clear his head. Now Douxie wondered if the dragon had actually gone out and told someone of his worries about his wizard familiar. After all, Archie had been on his case constantly over the past few days, practically begging his friend to sleep, to eat, to talk, and Douxie always ignored him and had even yelled at him on a couple of occasions.

Douxie was picking at a bowl of dragon-popped popcorn listlessly, the small desire for food that he’d felt earlier having been immediately usurped by a fresh waves of undulating guilt and devastating emptiness. A smattering of empty cans - soda and energy drinks - lay crumpled on the coffee table around Archie, and the dregs of his latest cup of coffee were still warm. He seriously considered just ignoring the knocking until whoever it was went away - they’d promised to give him some time to recover, after all - but then they started ringing the doorbell and his head already hurt so badly it made his stomach curdle, so he made the tremendous journey to his feet. He swayed, his limbs like pool noodles, head swimming with dizziness at the effort to stay upright.

Each step toward the door - that incessant, too-loud doorbell was going to drive him mad! - was a hard-fought battle, and by the time his hand reached for the doorknob, he felt like he was going to be sick, and his vision was blurred, and he was having trouble remembering why he had gotten up in the first place.

Then the doorbell rang again, and a muffled voice called his name from the other side of the door, and he remembered.

It was Claire and Jim. The moment they laid eyes on him, their expressions went from concerned to relieved to something Douxie couldn’t quite identify but that might have been a kind of shock, or even horror.

“Douxie!” Claire half-shouted, and Douxie fought the urge to cover his ears as her voice, normally pleasant and soothing, tried its hardest to split his head in two. “What happened?”

Douxie squinted at her in confusion. Shouldn’t she know what happened? She had been there, for parts of it, at least. She’d heard about the rest. He could barely stand up straight anymore, and his eyes started closing of their own accord. This had happened so many times before, but as soon as sleep started to stake its claim, the memories and nightmares and things that might have been memories followed, mixing up into a blur that he couldn’t navigate, and then his magic alarm clock would blare, and he would wake up, and drink another Mountain Dew or Monster or cup of coffee, and try to do something to take his mind off of sleep and pain and Merlin. Then the whole process would start over again.

This time, it didn’t look like he would make it back to the couch before he passed out - the arduous trek to the front door had drained him, made him breathless and dizzy - and he was toppling forward, trying to force himself to wake up, battling sleep and the panic of sleep, or worse, hitting his head and being knocked out and forced to sleep.

“Whoa!” He startled awake to a hazy reality as Jim caught his stumbling form and propped him up the best that he could given how much taller Douxie was than him. Distantly, Douxie heard, “Claire, help me get him inside.”

And then Claire slung his other arm over her shoulder and they half-supported, half-dragged him back into his house, and though his eyes were on his couch, he realized that they were taking him past it, further into the house, in the direction of his bedroom, and he began to struggle against them.

“No, not there,” he gasped, knowing that if he had a mattress under his body and a soft pillow under his bed, there would be no way he could resist the siren call of sleep. He’d been avoiding his bed for days now.

But they didn’t listen, and soon they helped ease him onto his bed, perpetually unmade, and he scrambled up clumsily into a facsimile of a sitting position and shook his head to clear it of the gummy cobwebs that infested it. Archie, having followed the trio closely, literally hovering right over their shoulders, perched on Douxie’s desk and kept his lamp-lit eyes on his human, watchful and protective.

As soon as their charge was no longer in any immediate danger of hurting himself, Jim pulled out his cell phone. “I’m calling my mom.”

“No, no,” Douxie said, forcing his burning eyes open as far as he could and making a feeble swipe at the phone in his friend’s hand. Jim hesitated, his thumb hovering over the send button.

“You are obviously not feeling well,” he said. “And you look sick. You need to see a doctor before --”

“I’m not sick,” Douxie explained, trying to project an air of wellness that he couldn’t even muster within himself. At their doubtful looks, he clarified, “Just a little tired.”

“You don’t look like you’ve slept in a month!” Claire exclaimed worriedly. “We promised to give you a few days to yourself to heal and rest, not turn into one of the living dead!”

“It’s only been a few days,” Douxie assured her. “I just need to sort some things out in my head, that’s all. Then I’ll sleep.” It was a lie, but he needed them to believe it, needed them to go home and go on with their lives and not sit here worrying about him - or worse, try to make him sleep. He appreciated their concern, and was touched that he had friends who cared so much about his well-being, but they had more important things to deal with - Jim’s transition from being half-troll to enslaved hulk troll to fully human and the loss of his amulet, for starters. And he had made this mess on his own, this was his fault, so if his punishment was to never sleep again, it should be his to bear alone. He didn’t deserve to be worried about, he suddenly realized - that was the crux of why he wanted to be left alone so badly.

“A few days without sleep will wreck you, man,” Jim said seriously, his blue eyes offering nothing but concern. He did pocket his phone again, though, for which Douxie heaved a sigh of relief. “Trust me, I know.”

Douxie didn’t know the details, but he had heard stories from Claire and Toby about how Jim had, over a year ago, willingly gone into the Darklands, a hellish nightmare-scape beneath the skin of this world, and Claire had told, her own eyes haunted, of how he had come back not himself, traumatized, and how he’d barely slept nor ate and had become a shell of his former self.

So he asked, voice far more unsure than he felt comfortable with, “How did you move on? How did you get back to normal?”

He hated himself for sounding so weak. He’d lived 701 years. He’d lost people he cared about so regularly that he’d eventually tried to avoid personal connections. Such was the curse of being a wizard, and being functionally immortal. The world around him would turn, but he would not age - or rather, he would age slowly, at the pace of his own choosing - and people would die, wars would rise up and die down, and still he would live, watching it all, alone. That wasn’t true. Even if Merlin had been entombed for much of that time, he hadn’t been dead, not really. The knowledge that he would see his mentor again had kept Douxie going during the loneliest of times, during the most devastating losses.

And, of course, he’d had Archie, a constant companion who even now had done everything he could to help his friend, and when that hadn’t worked, when Douxie had been too stubborn to listen, he’d taken it upon himself to gather more of Douxie’s friends and staged an intervention. If Douxie hadn’t been so exhausted and his mind hadn’t been so muddy, he might have been grateful or touched by the gesture and loyalty, but right now, he just felt irritated, like his privacy had been infringed upon.

Jim blinked. “Well, uh,” he stammered, glancing at Claire before continuing, “it took time, first of all. But, honestly, it was my friends. But it took talking to someone who had gone through the same thing as me, who understood what I was going through, to first start the healing.”

Douxie shook his head. “Everybody loses people,” he said slowly. “But this feels different.”

“Just because everyone deals with loss doesn’t make your experiences any less important, Douxie,” Archie said sagely. He was the only one in the room who had a true scope of all the heartbreaks Douxie had accumulated over his centuries of life in a world of short-lived mortals.

“It’s not that.” Douxie was desperate now for them to understand the truth. Then maybe they would stop being so kind to him. Dream-Merlin had been right. He didn’t deserve it. “Don’t you see? It’s my fault Merlin’s dead. I killed him.”

Jim froze at his words, looking like he’d just been struck across the face. For a moment, Douxie wondered why he reacted the way he did, but then remembered that Jim had been the one to hold Douxie down when Morgana was going to kill him. He hadn’t been in his right mind, had been enslaved by the Arcane Order, but still, he had, in a small way, been the reason that Douxie had been forced into doing the switching magic that he had. Still, Douxie could find no ill will in him against the Trollhunter. He’d not been in control of his own mind. Douxie had.

“I am so sorry,” Jim started, but Douxie immediately cut him off.

“It’s not your fault. You weren’t you. But me…”

“You have to see the truth,” Jim insisted urgently, now moving to take a seat on the bed next to his older friend. Sure, they hadn’t known each other all that long, but going through the things they had and saving the world together tended to bring people closer together rather more quickly than usual, in his experience. “It wasn’t your fault. You did everything you could to save Merlin. You took a sword in the gut for him.” Douxie flinched internally at the reminder of the agony, the feeling of dying, the cold and the dark.

“Yeah, Douxie,” Claire chimed in. “You’re a hero. You saved him.”

“If I’d had more control over that magic, if I’d channeled it a different way or done a different spell, then we might both be alive.” He was so tired, but the conversation held him in its grip, and he couldn’t sleep anyway, he’d go back to the sword and Merlin’s death and the wizard’s tower where Merlin would tell him again that he’d failed.

“Douxie, you’re the one who’s been teaching me more magic!” Claire reminded him. “One of the things I learned from my Shadow Staff - and that you’ve continued to show me - is that magic is emotion. You can’t always control what magic is going to do when you are in a moment of fear or anger or desperation. Magic reacts to your emotions. And Jim’s right. What you did was very brave and selfless.”

“That’s why Merlin gave his life to save you in return,” Archie added. “That, and because he loved you, very much.”

Douxie felt the sting of hot tears carving pathways down his face and didn’t bother to wipe them off. He felt like having a full-on temper tantrum, flopping onto his stomach and screaming and sobbing and slamming his fists into the ground and letting his magic explode out of him with all the force of the emotions and exhaustion that had built up inside. He knew if he did that, though, he would just end up hurting someone else.

So he asked a question he was ashamed to ask, because it made it sound like he blamed Merlin instead of himself, “If he loved me, why did he leave? Why didn’t he let me make my sacrifice? It was like what I did didn’t matter. I saved him because I don’t want to live without him, but that’s just what he forced me to do.”

Archie flapped off the desk and landed on the bed on the other side of his friend. Placing a paw on Douxie’s leg, he spoke gently, as if to a lost child, “Merlin was a great wizard” -- Douxie sobbed -- “but he was also very selfish sometimes. That comes with great power and an ego left unchecked paired with a very long life. Merlin saved you because he couldn’t bear to think of a world without you in it. Nor,” said the dragon, nuzzling Douxie’s elbow affectionately, “can I, for that matter.”

“But if I --”

“No buts,” said Archie. “This was not your fault. And I know Merlin told you the same.”

“He did,” Douxie admitted. “But then he didn’t. Every time I sleep, I see him, and he tells me… he tells me that I f-failed, that he’s d-dead because of me, and that I don’t deserve to live.”

“Oh, Douxie,” Claire breathed softly, sinking down into his desk chair.

“That’s not Merlin telling you that,” Jim spoke up. Something raw lingered in his eyes. “It’s the lies you are telling yourself. I know because for weeks after the Darklands, I…” He cast his gaze briefly at Claire, and even in his semi-conscious state, Douxie got the feeling that he hadn’t even told his girlfriend this before. “I had dreams every night of Claire, Toby, Blinky, Aaarrrgghh, everyone telling me I should have stayed in the Darklands. Should have died there, because I wasn’t strong or brave enough, and I went in alone and betrayed them, and that they were better off and happier without me. For a while, I believed them.”

Claire was crying quietly now, her hands pressed against her lips.

“But then,” Jim continued, “the more time I spent with my friends, and talked to them, I began to be able to separate their truth from my own lies. Like I said earlier, you really need to talk to someone who gets it, you know. And even though we’ve experienced a lot of the same things, it’s not me.” He looked pointedly at the small black dragon who was currently in the same place he’d always been - at Douxie’s side.

“I miss him too.” Archie repeated his words from a few days ago. “And I am here for you, Douxie.” He must have seen the doubt festering in Douxie’s eyes and he reassured, “I do not blame you for what happened. No one does. The Merlin in your dreams is not real. He is spitting your own self-doubts and guilt right back into your face, but deep down, you know the truth. The real Merlin told you. Jim and Claire told you. And I am promising you - Merlin died because he chose to in order to save you because after all he had seen and done and all the years he’d lived, the one thing he was terrified of was having to light your funeral pyre. And Merlin never did anything he didn’t want to do. No one could have stopped him from making that choice.”

The words struck something deep inside of Douxie, and he felt the tiniest fraction of weight shift in his chest. “M’be,” he slurred, so tired that his friends were all now blobs of blue, black, and purple. A giant bruise. He chuckled, a bit madly.

“Okay, Douxie,” came Claire’s voice, distant and very close at the same time. “I think you really need to lie down now. You’ve been awake for too long.”

She and Jim helped him lie down. Weakly, he protested, “I cn’t sleep.”

“You can,” said Jim. “Take Archie’s words with you if you end up facing that dream-Merlin again. Remember that we’re here for you. None of us will leave you while you sleep, okay?”

“Yeah, we’ll be right here when you wake up, and if you have nightmares, we’ll remind you of the truth,” Claire promised.

“And I will guard you,” Archie vowed, retaking his cat form and curling up protectively over his closest friend’s heart. “You are safe here.”

Douxie could resist the call of sleep no longer. He closed his eyes and let it take him, and he felt the warm weight of Archie on his chest and the presence of his friends around him and the slightest of smiles curved his lips as he drifted off.

***

Thirty seconds after Douxie grew still upon the bed, his three friends let out a collective sigh of relief.

Thirty seconds after that, Jim and Claire let out a collective yell of shock and Archie leapt to his paws, hissing and arching his back, as a giant, misty alarm clock appeared out of thin air and started screeching a terrible cacophony of wailing guitars and screaming vocals at top volume.

“What the--?” Claire shouted over the racket, slamming her hands over her ears.

“I forgot,” Archie called back, “he cast this spell to wake him up when he fell asleep.”

And yet, this time, Douxie still slept.

“Can you turn it off?” Jim yelled.

“No, only Douxie can undo the spell.”

Jim considered this for a moment and shook his head. “Let him sleep. He needs it.”

And despite the loud, jarring music, he, Claire, and Archie kept their promise and stayed faithfully at their friend’s side until, four hours later, he woke up long enough to blessedly vanish the clock.

Then, like a little boy with a teddy bear, the already fading Douxie pulled a startled Archie into his arms and held him tight, curling up on his side with his furry prize. Although uncomfortable in his new position and robbed of his draconian dignity, Archie snuggled in and purred, content to listen to the steady breathing of his deeply sleeping familiar.

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