#high penetration formula

[metalhead-brainrot]

[Album of the day] Electric Machete - High Penetration Formula

Borgo Massano, Italy // 2023

[Genres] stoner rock, heavy psych

[FFO] Rush

[Thoughts] Power trio out of agrarian Italy! High Penetration Formula is one of the better stoner rock albums I own, solid enough that I can't put it down. This is stripped-down, high-energy riff worship. Eat up.

o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::> o()xxxx[:::::::::::::::::>

[iceman-kazansky]

Can you write Seb x driver!reader where driver wins race after race and wins the championship and becomes red bulls prodigy and basically Seb is jealous of her and he basically hates her but she’s kind to him and everyone so he ends up falling in love with her

Little Miss Sunshine 

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙· ̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙

Requested by: Anon 

Request: ^^

Pairings: Sebastian Vettel x F!RB!Driver!reader 

Warnings: Seb is a bit of an ass at first (as per request,) typical red bull menace era Seb. Y/n utilized. Kissing. Getting drunk. Angst to fluff. No Danny ric to RB and Hamilton doesn't win WDC that year (for the plot.)

Word count: 5295

A/n: AHHH OMG I LOVED THIS REQUEST! GIGGLED AND KICKED MY FEET WHEN I GOT THIS! Hope you enjoy this :):) P.S. Sorry this took so long, Life got quite hectic haha

Taglist: none (if you'd like to be on my taglist, there's a link to the form at the bottom of the post! :] )

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

You had smiled awkwardly at Sebastian when you’d first met him, given him a little wave and greeted him rather shyly. It wasn’t your first year in Formula 1, of course, though, you’d come from a cheaper team, one that hadn’t had a streak of winning like Red Bull. So, naturally, you were a little timid of the new environment and determined not to let your team down or have a sour relation with your teammate.

You were standing in your race suit, your white balaclava pulled over your head as you adjusted your helmet before climbing into your car.

Sitting in the new vehicle had never felt this nerve-wracking. Already, all of their eyes were on you and their expectations were high. You were nervous, eaten to the core by the fear that you might disappoint your new team on your maiden grand prix for them. 

Without further ado, you shoved those thoughts down and went through the routine of starting your car. The engine roared to life and emitted a low purr. Carefully, you steered your car out of the garage, entering the pit lane.

After the formation lap, you'd taken your position at your spot on the grid, lining up midway through the lineup. Around you, the roar of the new v6 engines filled your ears as the lights began igniting.

As the lights went out and you pulled ahead of a few other drivers, you managed to keep up your pace, chasing Sebastian for the entire session.

On your maiden Red Bull race, you'd placed an impressive P2, second none other to teammate Sebastian Vettel.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

The previous race wasn't where your success stopped. Not at all. Last grand prix, you'd placed below Sebastian, something you considered a result of your lesser driving skills compared to the 4 time world champion. Yet, it wasn't long before you found yourself surpassing him on many occasions. 

You placed higher than him many times, scoring podiums nearly every race. And Sebastian didn't like that he was being out-driven by his new teammate. It left a sour taste in his mouth. 

He began to resent you. He loathed the fact that you were new to this team, to Red Bull, a group so closely-knit because of him. The constant reminder that you had penetrated the family-like racing team he had worked so hard to make closer, was impossible to forget when you –in his words– paraded around the paddock with your bright, easy smiles and kind words. He hated the way you smiled so cheerily, sun rays woven between pearly teeth that portrayed a constant warmth. Your smile seemed to never stop shining and it made Sebastian even more bitter about the situation.

Maybe it was silly. A stupid rivalry. But Sebastian was stubborn and he very much liked winning. He liked being dubbed ‘the best’ 4 consecutive years. And you were taking that away from him. He hated you for it.

It was a particularly bad race for Sebastian. Or, atleast, he'd call it bad. He hadn't placed nearly as high as he'd hoped and it made him angry. You on the other hand, had unsurprisingly placed first, which extended your lead over Sebastian and only increased his frustration.

He climbed out of his car, sweating heavily and anger hot as lava beneath his skin. You followed suit before making your way over to him where he stood. He groaned as you approached, his rage boiling.

“That was a tough race, Sebastian,” You said to him, a small, friendly smile on your face, “You did good.”

Something in the way you smiled at him while you said that made him frustrated and irritable. “Save your sympathy for someone who wants it,” He spat angrily, eyes hardened to a glare.

Sebastian didn't miss the small frown that found its way to your lips, and he found himself feeling a small tinge of something in his chest. It almost frightened him at the peculiar nature of the newly discovered feeling.

“I was just being nice,” You replied in a quieter, much sadder tone, “Sorry.”

As you turned and walked away without another word, Sebastian watched. The German driver knew he should do something. Say something. Call you back and apologize. Yet, his mouth remained glued shut and his eyes locked on your retreating form.

“Fuck,” He cursed to himself, a frustrated hand coming up to run through his sweaty strands of hair.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

It was race day again and already, Sebastian wasn't in a good mood. The previous argument had gone forgotten by him and his anger resurged. You'd out-everything'd him. Out-qualified; Out-lapped; Out-fastest lapped; You'd out-raced him entirely, scoring yourself pole position to start the race off.

Sebastian was a few grid spots back. It wasn't his finest performance over the past few days, he would admit that much.

His eyes were locked on the red lights above the grid that slowly began their count.

1..

The first one ignited.

2..

The second light burned a bright red, and Sebastian tapped his fingers on the steering wheel.

3..

The third set of lights turned on. Sebastian began to rev his car's engine by pressing his foot on the gas.

4..

The fourth pair of lights lit up, and Sebastian could feel his anticipation growing. He wasn't going to let you win again today. He had to place higher than you.

5..

Finally, the fifth pair of lights blinked on. Sebastian subconsciously squeezed the steering wheel, eyes locked firmly on the red lights as he waited almost impatiently.

The lights all extinguished, and all the cars surged forwards as the race began.

Sebastian was fighting tooth and nail as he moved his way up the race standings. He raced behind you now, your car's tail end visible not far ahead. 

You were driving spectacularly. You pulled corners with professional precision, accelerating out of them with the help of ERS to propel you forward, your car following a unique racing line all with a feel that came natural to you.

Sebastian was pushing his car to the limits as he caught up to you, using all of his ability to keep up and attempt an overtake. You were quick to defend when he moved over slightly to pass, your car zipping in front of him to effectively block his path.

It made him angry and want to take first place from you even more. Sebastian just barely managed to get to a point where he was wheel-to-wheel with you on a straightaway. Yet, a corner with a decreased radius was rapidly approaching as your fight for first intensified.

Your car pulled to the outer edge of the track as you followed the perfect racing line into the turn, Sebastian almost parallel with you. The German driver knew he needed to brake soon and get into a better racing line to complete this corner, but he was too caught up in the fact he was neck and neck with you, fighting for first and he didn't want to pull away and give up.

At almost the same time, your cars slowed coming into the corner, and Sebastian steered sharply into the turn as the track narrowed. 

It all happened in a flash. One minute, both of you were racing around the corner, determined to obtain first place and refusing to allow the other to simply have it, and the next, Sebastian's car, which was going a little too fast as it rounded the bend at the same time yours did, veered straight into the side of your car. The impact sent both of you skidding out of control. Your car spun a few times, tossed straight off the track and into the gravel before smashing into the barrier, Sebastian's following the same track, only slightly ahead of yours.

The German's head was pounding as he came to a stop, a nauseous feeling collecting in his stomach. Only when his eyes laid on your similarly crashed car did he feel a strange sense of panic. Fighting against his restraints, he quickly unbuckled himself, scrambling out of his car once he'd shut it off. His feet had barely hit the ground before he had taken off running towards your crashed car.

It didn't take long to reach you, and when he did he was met with what appeared to be a very disorientated you, who groaned, your helmet pressed against the back of your seat. He reached over to shut off your car when you hadn’t already. His nerves were through the roof, panic running icy-cold through his veins. “Are you okay?” He asked, trying to keep his voice calmer than he really felt. When you didn't answer immediately, he asked again, “Y/n, are you okay?”

You groaned in reply, your helmet turning slightly to face him, the object obscuring your face from him. “I'm okay. Are you okay?”

Sebastian blinked a few times in confusion. You were the one still sitting in the car, and asking if he was okay? “Yeah, I'm fine.” He replied after a minute, baffled.

A sigh of relief left your lips and Sebastian imagined one of your signature smiles finding its way onto your face. 

In a strange moment of what he would call brain-fog, but in reality was clarity, Sebastian felt comforted by that thought. However, he was quick to force that feeling back down to the deepest, warmest pits of his heart and soul. Shoving back down that tiny bit of himself that felt warm and fuzzy at the mention of your name. That tiny bit he never wanted to confront because a part of him knew what it meant.

You got out of your car after that, unbuckling your harness and climbing out. Marshals had arrived on scene and before you knew it, they were giving both of you rides back to the paddock.

When you got back to the Red Bull Garage, both of you had pulled off your helmet and your balaclavas. Sebastian still felt stubbornly bitter, but underneath all that was a strong sense of guilt. He knew it was his fault both of you crashed. Yet, when he looked at your face for the first time since you'd both spun out and hit the barriers, he didn't see anger. He saw a soft smile and a warm look present on your face.

Sebastian didn't understand. Why weren't you angry at him? He was the reason why you both crashed, and he'd subsequently gotten both of you disqualified from the race entirely. Any other person would've been fuming, spitting fire from an angry tongue and steam rolling from their ears. Yet, why weren't you?

For a moment– a split second– Sebastian felt his bitterness ebb away. There was this growing tingling in his chest, and he could feel his stomach knotting itself as it thrashed in turmoil. He found himself staring at you, his anger and so-called loathe of you forgotten, now replaced by a feeling of warm fondness. Again.

The German shook his head to clear those thoughts and feelings. This was the second time today this had happened. What had gotten into him?

The moment for Sebastian didn't last long as soon enough your team principal came out and had a stern talking to both of you, but overall you both got let off easy.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

It was the finishing night of another race week again. One of the many breaks in the season was starting and everyone was in good spirits. Especially Sebastian, as for the first time in awhile this season, he came out with an impressive P1. After a few interviews you were finally free and you went back to your hotel room, feeling particularly exhausted and more than ready for this break.

You opened the door, pulling off your shoes with sluggish movements. The moment your head hit the pillow, you fell into a deep sleep, your body more than happy to receive its much-needed rest.

It was the middle of the night when your phone rang, stirring you from your sleep. You groggily read the contact: Sebastian. Why was he calling you? “Hello?” You yawned into the speaker, using your free hand to wipe your eyes, hoping to wake yourself a bit.

“Hiii,” Sebastian slurred, his voice unusually cheery, “how are you?”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. It was obvious now that he was drunk. “I’m good, how are you? What’s up?”

“I’m gooood,” He replied, and you noticed the stretching out the syllables of his words when he talked. “Nothings up, I just wanted to talk to you.”

You hummed. “Okay. You’re drunk. Do you need a ride?”

Sebastian was quiet for a few minutes, the only sound being a hiccup, followed by a soft, “Yeah..” 

Sighing, you had already started to get out of bed, getting ready to go pick up Sebastian. “Where are you? I’m coming to get you.”

Once Sebastian managed to spit out his location through his slurred speech, you were on your way. Pulling up to the boisterous club, you noticed Sebastian standing outside on the sidewalk.

You parked and climbed out, knowing damn well he'd need help if he really was anywhere near as drunk as he sounded over the phone.

Sebastian smiled when he noticed you, something you were definitely unaccustomed to after these past months. What surprised you even more was his arms wrapping around your waist as he took upon his drunk self to hug you. 

“Have you always looked this nice?” He asks as he pulls away, and you are forced to shake off the shock of the clinginess when he compliments you.

“Good to see you too,” You say, chuckling in embarrassment at his words, his unnatural actions not going unnoticed by you. “Here, let's get you into the car.”

Sebastian, lucky for you, wasn't one to fight the idea of going back to the hotel and almost eagerly followed your instructions. Your hands guided him in as he plopped unceremoniously down. Watching from the open door, you observed Sebastian struggling with his seatbelt, trying hard to click it in securely but failing miserably. Sighing, you bent over and did it for him before closing the door and crossing the car to get in the driver's seat again.

As you began driving, you imagined the car ride to be quiet, but Sebastian had other plans.

“Thank you for driving me,” he hiccuped, starting the small talk easy.

“It's no big deal,” You replied, glancing at him in the passenger seat. You were a little shocked to find him looking right back at you, his gaze shamelessly wandering your features.

“Look, I'm sorry for being really mean all the time,” Sebastian said suddenly, breaking your distracted train of thought. 

“It's okay,” you replied, gazing back at the road. He was drunk and you weren't sure if his words were as true as they would've been had he been sober.

“But it's not okay,” Sebastian hiccuped, “You're nothing but nice to me and I'm always so angry with you. Don't you ever get upset with me?”

You swallowed a little nervously, staring out the window. When you'd first joined Red Bull at the start of this season, you'd heavily admired Sebastian, but over time your opinion of him was altered through his harshness.

“I..” You mumbled, unsure how to state your view without possibly offending him, “Sometimes.”

Sebastian took a long time to respond after that, and the silence seems to shove you into the spotlight. After an awkward momentary pause, you find yourself blurting out your true feelings to Sebastian in a desperate attempt to end this silence that eats you up. He wouldn't remember this conversation in the morning, anyway. “I just wanted to be as good as you. I saw someone who was a great racer, and I strived to be like that. But then, when I did get to that level, I was met with nothing but resentment. And I'm not even sure I know why.”

More silence. The only noise is the sound of the car as it drives and you wish nothing more than the radio to be on to take away some of these unpleasantly long pauses.

“You probably think I hate you,” Sebastian slurred finally. From your peripherals, you saw him hang his head in shame and sit forward again.

That took you off guard. Through his harsh words, his angry glares, and the countless times he'd displayed his very obvious disdain for you, he'd made it clear that he did hate you, and quite vehemently. If not hate, then a strong distaste. Hell, you were partially certain you’d remembered him saying something in a press conference once. Now, drunken and lost from his wits, he was telling you he didn't feel that at all? That his appearance was not as it seemed all this time? “You don't..?”

“Me? Hate you? No. Quite the opposite, actually.” Sebastian exclaimed, drunken head snapping up to meet your gaze.

Oh.

A beat of silence. A confession that feels like a mouthful too big to swallow. “What?” You ask, mind spinning with what he could possibly mean. 

“I don't hate you,” Sebastian repeats. “Not anymore.”

This doesn't make sense. None of it does. Why does he tell you this now? And here, of all places? “Not anymore?” You repeat, a plea for him to elaborate.

“No,” he sighs, “I've been so stupid.. and stubborn. You threatened my reputation as the best Red Bull driver and I really didn't like that.. And, you were always so.. nice. So kind and cheery all the time. The cameras seemed to be attracted to you, you were press eye-candy and they took full advantage of that. I envied how carefree you were and how much you stole the spotlight off me. How perfect you seemed.”

For a minute you forget he's drunk. Forget that maybe he might not mean a word of this. That he's so out of his wits that he probably doesn't know what he's saying. And it's blissful when you do. To live in ignorance and take his words as they seem. The inebriated lack of clarity he experiences not once crossing your mind, even for just a moment. You allow yourself to think he means it.

“I–” you mumble, not entirely sure what to say, “What made you change your mind?”

Sebastian didn't speak right away, but you could see the way his face portrayed the internal battle he fought. “When I crashed into you and you didn't move. Not an inch.” He pauses, gulping before continuing on quietly, “I thought I’d killed you. I got out of my car the quickest I've ever before and fought to get to you. Something told me I had to see if you were okay. I'd never been so scared in my life.”

His admittance was something unexpected. You wanted to believe him, a small voice in your mind whispered repeatedly ‘drunk words are sober thoughts.’ Now, in your mind, you wonder what he could have possibly meant when he said he didn’t hate you, instead claiming to have felt something ‘quite the opposite.’ What was that opposing thing? It made you wonder if that soft twinkle in his eyes when he looked at you was just your imagination, or if it was really something to consider.

Silence settles like death over the car. Maybe it’s your lack of response, but it doesn’t matter because soon enough, you’re pulling into the hotel parking lot and helping Sebastian back up to his room.

It’s quiet as you lead him down the long hallway, passing many rooms before finally stopping at his door. He uses a keycard to unlock it, and he stumbles in as soon as he does. You walk into his hotel room, bringing him to his bed. You leave for a minute, going to the bathroom to grab the garbage bin and filling a glass with water from the sink. “Here,” You say, extending the glass to him, “Drink this,” You pause, setting the bin on the floor by the bed, “And use this if you need to throw up any time in the night.”

Sebastian nods, finishing up his glass of water.

You sigh, heading to the door and deciding your work is done. “Goodnight Sebastian,” you say to him.

“Goodnight Y/n,” He replies and you leave.

In your own room, you lay restless for a while, pondering everything Sebastian said to you, and for a minute, you like to believe something has changed. That this feeling in you is real and things are really different than they were.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

Months pass from that night, Sebastian never brings up the topic. Yet, things don’t fall back to how they were. You haven’t had any quarrels with the German since then. His words, albeit not at the front of your mind, still ring in your ears from time to time. By now, It’s the end of the season- The last race. And, you’ve won.

The feeling of parking your car at the first-place marker and climbing out onto its long body, hearing the crowds shouts of congratulations while the full weight of your accomplishment began to set in, produced an indescribable emotion. The jumps of joy you denied fighting against as you shouted and screamed in a disbelieving glee, your feet leaving the ground as you leapt around in a craze. As soon as you stepped off your car, you’d jogged across the tarmac and leaped at the fence, straight into the warm embrace of your team. Their acclamations washed over you while they patted your back and shoulders in celebration. When you had finally separated from your team and found yourself walking that short bridge- which, in comparison, had felt much longer and slower than it really was and stepped onto the podium for first place, the sounds of the crowd below you roaring in celebration, their loud cheers filling the air and ringing loud in your ears, made you realize they were cheering for you. As you stood in front of the world, on display, the national anthem for your country playing proudly for the winner, you could feel tears of joy start to well in your eyes.

You’d done it. You’d won the World Drivers Championship. The first female driver in history to ever win a WDC, and you had done it. Through years of hard work in karting as a child, pushing yourself all the way up into the formulas, you had accomplished it. When you’d made your debut into Formula 1, you could hardly believe it then. You never imagined you’d have made it this far into the sport. Of course, you’d dreamed of winning a WDC, as every other driver did. Ever since you were in karting it had been an unimaginable feat you always reached for, striving to one day achieve. A feat many drivers never got a glimpse of. To be dubbed the greatest in Formula 1 was something unbelievable. But here you were, standing atop the podium, being handed the first place trophy of the season’s final grand prix, securing your position as the World Champion. A constant reminder in your mind of ‘you were the champion- the best,’ made your happiness only increase. 

As you held the trophy in your hands, lifting it high over your head, you let the tears fall. There was a wide smile of joy plastered across your face, stretching from ear-to-ear. You held the trophy in the air, a silent echo of your words that screamed ‘I’ve won’ being conveyed through the simple act.

Eventually, you set down your trophy, careful not to break it, the champagne bottle now held in your hands as you popped the cork. You felt the sticky spray from the other podium members as they pelted you with the bubbly drink, while you took a short turn blasting either of them with the liquid. After a moment, you turned and faced the crowd, shaking the bottle and shooting champagne over them with a smile on your face. 

Suddenly, there was a wet feeling of champagne being poured over your head, soaking your hair and running down your race suit, it had you turning to face the other podium winners, one of them being none other than your teammate Sebastian Vettel. He was smiling broadly at you, holding his champagne bottle above your head, dumping the rest of the yellow liquid over you in congrats. You couldn’t care less about it, rather enjoying the celebration more and more as it progressed. You still could hardly believe the fact you’d won the WDC.

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

The 2014 Red Bull team went out to party that night, the whole group hitting one of the team members' houses that was coincidentally not far from the location of the last grand prix, upon arrival, booze was promptly handed out.

You, on the other hand, strayed from partaking in the drinking of alcohol. Tonight was your celebration night, and you much preferred to spend it remembering rather than drunk off your wits.

You'd found yourself seeking an isolated place. Somewhere to go to regain your thoughts, almost as if you were relishing in your own victory but with silent regard.

There was a peacefulness on the quiet balcony that made admiring the sky easy. High above your head, the night sky stretched across the horizon like a blanket. Stars looked like pin pricks amongst the great ebony expanse. There was a slight chill to the evening air, but not one great enough for you to retreat back into the mansion. Inside, the party raged on, with loud music blasting loud enough you could hear it from your place on the balcony.

The sound of the sliding balcony door opening caught your attention. Reluctantly tearing your eyes away from the beautiful night sky, you found yourself face-to-face with none other than Sebastian.

“Hello,” He greeted, “Whatcha doin’ up here?”

Sebastian was drunk. That much was obvious with the messy onslaught of slurred words and the slight stumble in his step as he joined you in leaning on the balcony.

“I wanted some time alone.” You answered. It wasn't a lie. You really did get away purposefully to be alone.

“Why? It's your party,” he hiccupped, his drunken gaze swimming with confusion.

You sighed. Yes, it was your party, but you just wanted to be alone for a bit to truly celebrate your victory without a full-blown party. “I know it’s my party.” 

Sebastian didn’t say anything after that, instead choosing to just stand silently beside you. Naturally, your gaze was drawn back to the sky, but this time Sebastian joined you.

The moon was a creamy ball of light against the charcoal of the sky, shedding its milky rays on the both of you and illuminating your faces beneath its glow. There was a gentle stillness to it all, a serenity to the scene, with the only sound being the whisper of the wind as it danced near-silently through the trees in the yard. The warmth from Sebastian lingered on your bare arms, his own skin so close to your own.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” you said, admiring the stars.

Sebastian merely hummed, and it caused you to glance at him. His eyes weren’t to the sky, instead, they were transfixed on your figure.

You turned to stare into his eyes, neither of you broke the contact. You could’ve sworn you’d seen a twinkle of warm fondness in his gaze. No, actually, you were certain you had. 

The shared glance had sparked something within you. A shift that altered the feelings you experienced. Maybe it was all just a hoax. Confusion. But not even you could deny the whispered nothings screaming that maybe what you felt was most definitely something. Something scary. Daunting. Both too scared to traipse through the thick hazy smoke that stung the eyes and invaded every sense, but what neither of you knew was that cloud was protecting the hot embers and warm flames from within. The parts of them that yearned for each other deeply. However, everything was on the verge of coming undone.

You'd hardly realized you and Sebastian subconsciously closed the gap between each other until you felt the warmth of his booze-ridden breath fan your face. With that train of thought, your gaze had lowered to his candy-coloured lips. It took you a minute to process your action, and it was only another second before your gaze returned to his eyes embarrassedly.

Sebastian doesn't seem to notice– or mind– the longing look. His hand reaches up to brush a piece of hair from your face, and you can feel your stomach erupt in swarms of butterflies at the act. He doesn't let his hand fall, instead it moves to tentatively cradle your cheek.

Sebastian leaned in even closer, his lips just above yours. You didn't miss the lingering stare he left on your lips for a little too long. You knew what was about to happen if you didn't move soon. Something deep inside you had you glued to your spot. And for a moment, a split second, the realization that maybe you wanted this struck you.

“May I kiss you?” He whispered, soft slate blue eyes meeting yours, gaze gone unbroken with the sheer intensity of the moment.

Warm fondness rises through you, bubbling softly in your chest. Apprehension courses through your veins, hot like lava to warm your skin despite the late November chill. You won't deny Sebastian the right to kiss you, because deep down you know you want this. You need this. Forever since you'd met him, you've yearned for clarity, for him to draw that line in the sand. To you, this would either spell it out for you or leave you second guessing everything. And that was a risk you considered worth taking.

“I won't say no.” You replied at last, solidifying everything on your end. A wide range of emotions run through your veins, but you don't feel an ounce of regret or unwillingness to taste and feel his lips on yours.

That's all the permission he needs, as he closes that gap to press his lips to yours.

His lips are tender, gentle and soft in a way that makes your knees wobble and your chest tighten. Sebastian's other hand finds its way to your hip, his fingers curling into your skin. 

You find he tastes faintly of liquor, a reminder of his previous drinking. Yet, part of you chooses to ignore it. He wants this too, right?

Your head spins as you stand frozen to the spot, lips linked together. Sebastian inevitably pulls away for air, and you find yourself chasing his lips for a short moment. He notices, a soft smile gracing his features while his hand slides from your cheek to rest on your neck as he pulls you in for a second kiss.

The second kiss ends with both of you pulling away. Sebastian rests his forehead against yours, and it takes a while before you open your eyes again. 

Your breaths mingle in the air between each other, soft smiles present on your faces. High above, the moon observes in awe.

“Will you go out to dinner with me?” Sebastian asks.

Nodding, you reply, “Only if you promise to remember this when you're sober.”

The German’s grin widens, “I don't think I could forget.”

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊·̩̩̥͙·̩̩̥͙ ＊*• 

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ || ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ

𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤? 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠! 𝐈𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

[elizaleclerc]

nobody else matters ❣️

charles leclerc x reader

summary: fem mc driver teases charles when they sneak off during media day <3 (a little 18+)

author’s note: thx for the love on my first post! feel free to message me w ideas :)

song: les by childish gambino

word count: 1.5k

The blistering sun beat down on you like a relentless hammer, its rays penetrating even the thick driver suit that clung to your body. Every step felt like walking through molten lava as you made your way through the crowd of the Miami paddock. The heat was suffocating, but you knew it would only get worse once you were inside the cockpit of your car, racing at top speeds.

Adjusting the snug neck strap of your navy blue Red Bull suit, you took a moment to fluff out your hair and reapply some makeup to combat the sweat-inducing temperatures. It was media day, and there were endless photos and interviews to be taken throughout the circuit. Red Bull's social media manager was in charge of guiding both you and Max around to various games and activities designed to showcase not just your driving skills, but also your personality off the track. From trivia challenges to racing on bouncy balls, each game added its own layer of entertainment for fans and media alike. And between all the fun, there were also professional photoshoots scattered throughout the day, capturing every angle of you and Max in your sleek suits against the vibrant backdrop of the race track.

In the high-stakes world of Formula One racing, Red Bull's main rival was none other than the prestigious Ferrari team. But for Max, it wasn't just about winning on the track - he also harbored a deep hatred for their lead driver, Charles Leclerc. Little did Max know that you, his own teammate, had been carrying on a secret romance with Charles for months now. The thrill and danger of sneaking around in the paddock, hiding your love from the prying eyes of media and fellow drivers, only added to the passion between you and Charles. He consumed your every thought, igniting a fiery desire that burned hotter than the scorching Miami sun.

Charles had a way of affecting your mood, even when he wasn't physically present. Whenever you were apart, there was a subtle shift in the air, as if a piece of you was missing. As a popular driver, Charles was no stranger to media attention, and despite your best efforts to keep your relationship under wraps, rumors still swirled about the two of you being more than just colleagues. But it was no secret how your face lit up whenever he was near, and how his own expression mirrored yours. In each other's company, it was as if the world melted away and all that mattered was the connection between you. Charles had become your everything - always checking in on you before every race and worrying over even the smallest of crashes. You were each other's constant support and strength amidst the chaos of the racing world.

Despite the exhilaration of keeping your forbidden romance with a rival driver hidden from the public eye, Charles's contract with Ferrari was set to expire at the end of this season. This presented him with the opportunity to switch teams and potentially join you at Red Bull. You had pleaded with him multiple times, urging him to take Max's place so that the two of you could finally race together. But Charles was adamant about wanting you by his side at Ferrari, making it a constant battle between your conflicting desires. This impasse seemed never ending, both of you refusing to budge from your positions, determined to make the best decision for yourselves and your racing careers.

Beads of sweat lingered on your flushed forehead as you wrapped up another exhilarating game outdoors for the media with Max. Your body was craving for a break from the scorching heat, and so you decided to make your way back to your driver room in the paddock.

You unzipped your tight driver suit, feeling instant relief as the cool air hit your damp skin. The thin white fireproof fabric clung to your body and provided some much-needed respite from the intense heat. As you opened the door to your driver room, it swung shut behind you, strong arms wrapping around your waist and soft lips pressing against yours. Charles' skin was glistening with sweat under the dim light, but the fiery passion and love between the two of you set the room ablaze.

Every time his hands touched your skin, it felt like fire spreading through your veins. His hot breath against your neck sent shivers down your spine as he whispered desperately, "God, I've missed you." You couldn't help but smile into his next kiss, knowing the effect you had on him.

"It's only been a few hours, darling" you teased, but secretly thrilled at his level of desire.

"You know I crave you all the time, mon amour," he murmured in a husky voice that made your whole body quiver with anticipation. As his hand trailed lower, you could feel yourself getting more and more aroused.

Charles noticed your heightened state and flashed a devilish grin. "How long is your break?" he asked mischievously.

You shook your head, trying to suppress a giggle. "No, we can't. Not here, are you insane?" But the thought of being caught only added to the thrill. Never in your wildest dreams did you imagine giving in to such intense passion in the cramped quarters of your driver's room. And yet, the danger only fueled your desire. Outside, people were milling around the paddock, completely unaware of the fiery passion unfolding just feet away from them.

“Please, I need you,” he begged, his voice desperate and cracking. You couldn't resist the sight of him like this – tall and muscular with a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. His eyes searched yours, pleading for you to fulfill his desires.

A smirk played on your lips as you leaned in closer, your own body buzzing with anticipation. “Oh baby,” you purred, running your fingers through his dark hair. “You know I can't resist when you beg like that.” Your hands trailed down his chest, undoing his driver's suit with practiced ease.

“Let me please you,” you whispered, your voice dripping with desire. And without hesitation, Charles was putty in your hands.

You pressed against him, feeling the heat and power emanating from his body. Your lips found their way to his neck, leaving a trail of passionate kisses and gentle bites. With each one, his breath grew heavier and his grip on you tighter.

Your hand slipped under the waistband of his pants, finding him already hardened with need. He let out a low moan as your touch sent shivers down his spine. And as your fingers explored further down, he could barely contain himself – caught between wanting more and wanting to hold onto this moment forever.

You trailed your fingers along his length, eliciting a deep groan from his throat. Your lips brushed against his ear as you asked, "How does that feel, baby?" He responded with a low moan and you continued to palm him, relishing in the way he melted under your touch.

His head tilted back and you took advantage of the exposed skin on his neck, peppering it with kisses while your hand worked its magic. As his breathing became more erratic and you could tell he was close, you suddenly stopped.

"What- what are you doing?" He questioned, confusion evident in his voice.

A devilish grin spread across your face as you whispered in his ear, "Once you tell me you want to drive in navy blue, we can do things like this more often."

He pulled back, his intense gaze filled with passionate anger and desire. "Oh mon amour, we both know you look better in red," he growled lowly.

Your bodies were mere inches apart, the heat between you building into a fiery intensity. He leaned in to kiss you again, your movements seamlessly meshing together. As he pulled away, you couldn't help but notice that he was still visibly aroused in his suit.

"Sit here for a moment and compose yourself. Slip out without getting caught," you whispered teasingly, a sly smile on your lips. You quickly zipped up your own suit and left your driver's room.

Stepping back into the warm air outside, you took a deep breath and grabbed a water bottle to cool your racing heart. A sense of pride swelled within you as you walked away from Charles, leaving him hanging with unfulfilled desire.

Little did you know, as you returned to Max and Red Bull's social media manager to prepare for the upcoming photo ops, that a stray worker had captured Charles leaving your room on their phone camera...

[roseistifosi]

A Night in Monaco (part one) AS 12

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

Words: 1.4K A/N: This is the first fic I ever wrote so please be nice loll, BTW

TW: Pregnacy ?

Monte Carlo, Monaco, 1993

The opulence of Monte Carlo sparkles under the starlit sky, an endless expanse of luxury and extravagance that feels almost otherworldly. You, a young bartender working in one of Monaco’s most exclusive venues, navigate the bustling bar with practiced grace. The clinking of glasses, the murmur of animated conversations, and the occasional burst of laughter create a vibrant tapestry of sounds that is both exhilarating and exhausting.

It's the weekend of the 1993 Monaco Grand Prix, a time when the city’s usual glamour is amplified tenfold. The streets are packed with racing enthusiasts, celebrities, and high-profile guests. Your bar is no exception, brimming with a mix of excited patrons eager to celebrate the high-octane event.

With your striking (your hair color) hair and penetrating (your eyes color) eyes, you move fluidly among the patrons, your uniform crisp and your demeanor friendly yet professional. Your days in Monte Carlo have been a whirlwind of bright lights and fast-paced social interactions, a sharp contrast to the quiet life you left behind in Solna. The energy of the city is a double-edged sword—thrilling yet overwhelming.

On this particular evening, as the bar’s atmosphere buzzes with excitement, a man walks in who immediately captures everyone's attention. Ayrton Senna, the Brazilian Formula 1 racing icon, enters with an aura of intense charisma and unparalleled skill. His dark suit and the confidence he exudes seem to amplify the allure of the Monaco night.

You notice him as he approaches the bar. The usual commotion seems to fade into the background as he steps into your space, his presence commanding attention. His dark, contemplative eyes meet yours with a warmth that contrasts sharply with the cool demeanor of his public persona.

“Champagne, please,” Ayrton says, his voice carrying a soft, melodic accent.

Your hand moves instinctively to retrieve a bottle of champagne, your mind momentarily distracted by the celebrity in front of you. “Of course. It’s quite the night for champagne,” you reply with a smile.

As you pour the drink, your conversation starts with small talk—questions about the race, the city, and each other’s lives. Ayrton’s charm is evident, but it’s his genuine curiosity and thoughtful responses that draw you in. He speaks with an intensity that makes you feel as though you’re alone, despite the busy surroundings.

Hours pass, and the bar begins to empty. The crowd thins, leaving behind a quieter atmosphere that feels more intimate. Ayrton, noticing the change, suggests you take a walk outside. You hesitate for a moment, then agree, feeling a mix of intrigue and anticipation.

The streets of Monte Carlo at night are a far cry from the daytime frenzy. The city breathes softly under the moonlight, and the calmness of the night provides a stark contrast to the earlier excitement. Ayrton and you walk through the serene avenues, your conversation flowing with an ease that comes from genuine connection.

You end up at the Hôtel de Paris Monte-Carlo, an establishment as renowned for its elegance as for its exclusivity. Ayrton leads you to his suite, and the opulence of the surroundings only enhances the sense of intimacy between you. The night unfolds with a blend of passion and tenderness, your connection deepening with each shared moment.

As dawn begins to break, the reality of the situation settles in. You wake alone, the suite’s luxurious furnishings starkly contrasting with the emptiness you feel. The bed beside you is neatly made, and the silence of the room is punctuated only by the soft rustle of paper.

On the pillow next to you lies an envelope, meticulously placed. With a mixture of curiosity and trepidation, you pick it up and carefully open it. Inside is a letter, written in Ayrton’s elegant script.

“Dear Y/N,

Thank you for a memorable evening. I regret that I had to leave before you awoke; my schedule demands I return to my responsibilities. I hope the night was as meaningful for you as it was for me. Enclosed is a small token to ensure you are well taken care of.

With warm regards,

Ayrton S.”

Along with the letter is a sum of money, not as compensation but as a gesture of respect and care. Your emotions are a tangled mix of gratitude, confusion, and a sense of loss. The night was both exhilarating and ephemeral, a fleeting connection that has left a lasting impact.

You read the letter several times, each reading stirring a new wave of emotions. The words, though simple, carry a depth of sentiment that makes the experience all the more poignant. Ayrton’s departure, while expected, leaves a void filled with a bittersweet sense of nostalgia.

You carefully tuck the letter away, deciding to keep it as a memento of a night that has transformed your life in ways you haven’t yet fully understood. The money, though practical, is secondary to the emotional significance of the letter and the night you shared.

Then, about a month later, something happens that will change everything. You begin to feel unwell—persistent nausea, fatigue, and an odd sensitivity to smells that hadn’t bothered you before. At first, you dismiss it as stress or perhaps a lingering flu. But when the symptoms don’t subside, you decide to visit a doctor.

Sitting in the sterile, white-walled clinic, you fidget nervously, your mind racing with possibilities. The doctor, a kind woman in her forties, conducts the examination and then asks you to wait while she runs some tests. The minutes tick by slowly, each one filled with growing anxiety.

When the doctor returns, she has a gentle expression on her face, one that conveys both understanding and seriousness. “Mrs Y/L/N” she begins softly, “I have some news for you. You’re pregnant.”

The words hit you like a freight train. Pregnant. You’re pregnant with Ayrton Senna’s child. The reality of it all is overwhelming. You sit there in stunned silence, your mind reeling as you try to process the enormity of what you’ve just heard. The news is a shock, and your mind races with questions and uncertainties. The reality of raising a child, especially one conceived during a brief encounter with someone as famous as Ayrton Senna, is daunting. You grapple with the implications of your situation, trying to come to terms with the fact that you will be raising a child on your own.

[magnetarbeam]

Star Wars Technical Worldbuilding Notes 1

Economy of motion would, realistically, be a pretty big thing in space combat tactics. The thrust given by an ion engine and the recoil/kinetic component of a laser or an ion cannon follow the same formula, so a capital ship that has all its power diverted to weapons is effectively applying acceleration equal to its engines in the direction that's opposite the aim of its guns.

The way I currently imagine it, capital ships involved in a serious line of battle would probably assume an even posture, firing the engines only to balance out the recoil of its cannons, for a net acceleration of zero. This doesn't mean the fleet is at rest relative to anything else, since it retains its existing velocity.

Maybe a common move would be to accelerate at full burn for a few minutes after dropping out of hyperspace to hit something like 0.1c before cutting thrust and coasting to engagement range. The point being to build up enough velocity in advance of an engagement that you can divert most or all power to weapons in the opening salvos without the recoil killing your forward velocity.

All else being equal, a ship fleeing pursuit would be at a significant advantage in that objective during exchanges of cannon fire, since the pursuit would be set back by their own recoil, while the ship fleeing is accelerated by shots that don't penetrate its shield.

So in this model of capital ship combat, missiles are useful not only because of the guidance and that they allow a ship to punch above its reactor output, but they allow you to attack without impacting your overall velocity.

I do think the X-Wing books take it a little bit too far, but my theory at this point is that a minimalistic model for galactic fleet scaling makes for better storytelling, because it gives you more of a chance to get to know each ship and its crew and each squadron and their pilots. Thereby giving more opportunity for readers to get invested. Logical fleet scales for an entire galaxy would mean having to use scientific notation to write out the number of ships in a battle, anyway.

One idea I've played with recently regarding logistics is that maybe the impact of large gravity wells on hyperspace could be written in such a way that the fixed installations needed to extract raw hypermatter from hyperspace are most efficient in high-gravity conditions, and so are most often built deep in large gas giants. I like that because fortifying and laying siege to a gas planet would be a very different task than a terrestrial planet. Such a siege would be especially difficult because its defenders have a practically unlimited supply of fuel for planetary shields and defensive cannons.

Headcanonically, hypermatter is created in hyperspace as a side effect of the passage of mass-energy through hyperspace. It is kind of a chicken-or-the-egg situation in terms of the questions it begs about the early history of space travel, but that goes to show how established galactic society is, that they haven't had to worry about that since their civilization's prehistory.

[emyluwinter]

You know, it seemed strange to me? that in both events with tsums Yuu and Grimm did not appear anywhere.

Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaybe….

While all the students are sleeping peacefully in their cozy soft beds. And only ghosts tirelessly perform their endless and never-ending work. One student can't sleep because of brain fever.

The Onboro dorm. 2 o'clock in the morning. Yuu after 6 cups of coffee and a crazy plan to draw a circle to teleport to their world on pieces from newspapers that they found in the attic. They hadn't slept for three days. They spent so much time in the forbidden sections of the library and read so many confusing lost texts with black and not so much magic that their brains literally boiled with information. Their hands are stained with ink up to the elbows, as if they themselves got out of their overblot. Their hair is so disheveled that a couple of crows definitely already want to rent this "mobile nest" Their bags under their eyes could easily hold the entire stock of apples from the village of Felmer for storage in the winter season.

Finally the formula is complete. Weighed down by insane fatigue and exhaustion, their half-empty eyes follow every line. Praying that their efforts and torments will finally be fulfilled in full.

Portal and the formula works. Grimm watches in horror from his hiding place with the ghosts.

But why does that glow suddenly begin to shine on them from above in the window?Not in the room as they expected and hoped?

Yuu looks out of the window when over the building of their dormitory just at the moment when a hole appears in the sky.

Is this the entrance to their world?!Did they really manage to do it?

-HOLY ICE CREAM. DID IT WORK?! How am I going to jump there now???

Having tasted all the adrenaline from joy, confusion, fear and delight, Yuu see how something penetrates through the hole. Hell no, that's not what they wanted.

Wait a minute.

That wasn't part of the plan.

After looking closely, what kind of creatures are so slowly floating down from the hole. Curiously, the creatures are very similar to NRC students. At least they look charming, but Yuu is not going to go through all the overblots again and have deal not with one harmful ass but with technically two??



Well



This is not a portal to their home. It's not even their dimension or anything like that.



Yuu feel a nervous tic in the eye and eyebrows. All the sleepless nights went to hell, as did their remaining nerves. Now it will definitely be necessary to deal with this as well. Instead of helping themselves, Yuu spread out more rakes on the road and added more small slippery balls on top to make the whole situation EVEN worse.

With a bang and rage, the Prefect closes the window and goes to sleep cursing loudly. Intending to clean up the mess tomorrow morning, rather than dig his grave even deeper.





Attempt number two.

This time Yuu did not sleep for 4 days. 8 cups of coffee drunk. The ghosts introduce a mandatory rule not to give the prefect Coffee and Energy drinks. Never. Under no circumstances. No, it is not allowed during the exams.

"It will definitely work this time." - they purr encouragingly to themselves. A huge canvas of paper glued together with scotch tape and tears filled their entire living room without leaving even a piece for a step. Even Grimm had to be careful not to get his paws and fur dirty in ink or pieces of tape or glue.

Grimm definitely doesn't like the heading - "Fierce crazy experiments with magic and portals from Prefect 2.0"

The portal is triggered again. But again not as planned. Yuu see the light again and look out the window. Another hole in the sky above the building.

-What the hell?!Why is it so high and the same hole???

and

Tsums are falling from the sky again. Now other students. Another headache and worries.

The ghosts had to resort to magic on Yuu to stop them from trying to climb the ladder and get into the hole in the sky above the dormitory. The prefect was wrapped in a soft and fluffy blanket and given hot milk and honey to somehow calm their rage from resentment and disappointment.

…To be continued?

[dailycharacteroption]

Roleplaying Races 16: Yaddithian

(Art taken from Pathfinder Bestiary 6, art by Florian Stitz)

And here we are, the very last ancestry we’ll be covering for First Edition (Though don’t worry, I have something in mind for Thursday and Friday), and it’s a bit of a deep pull from the Elder Mythos.

Originally appearing in the story Through the Gates of the Silver Key, the Yaddithians were the natives of the world of Yaddith, powerful mages and masters of technology who, despite their mastery of travel through time and space, could not save their world from being consumed and ravaged by Dholes (or perhaps Bholes). They primarily come into the story due to recurring Lovecraftian protagonist Randolph Carter getting stuck inside of the body of one after wishing to see and learn from their civilization before it’s collapse. It… doesn’t go well for him.

Pathfinder’s take on the yaddithians pretty much follows their book counterpart, save that a handful of them escaped the destruction of their homeworld, fleeing across space and time. Now, the bestiary entry does state that most yaddithians are mid to high level due to their immortality and rarity, but there’s nothing to stop someone from playing a young yaddithian, perhaps trying to piece together the secrets of their people from their cosmic diaspora.

Yaddithians are lanky creatures whose limbs bend in ways that would seem to make more sense for insects than mammals, but their skin is thick and wrinkly rather than chitinous. Meanwhile, their most prominent facial feature is their tapir-like trunk nose, capable of similar levels of flexibility.

We don’t know very much about yaddithian society given their world is dead and their people scattered, but we do know that they mastered powerful magic and technology. As such, one can assume that they are open and scientifically-minded. And while the wizard Zkauba was disgusted with Randolph Carter sharing a body with him, it’s unclear if it was disgust with what Randolph was, or with the unbidden intrusion.

However, honestly unless the story you want to tell focuses on Yaddith before it’s destruction, stories involving yaddithians are less about their society and more about the lack of society, of being one of the last of their kind struggling with the isolation and the distance they feel with other civilizations across the cosmos.

Yaddithians are tough and smart, but their alien mindsets make empathy with other species difficult.

They are somewhat sluggish for their size, but possess excellent night-eyes and the ability to survive in a vacuum.

Though they prefer magic and science, they do sport powerful claws which can be used in a pinch.

Their thick, wrinkly skin is also quite tough and hard to penetrate.

A yaddithian’s mind is shockingly good at retaining information, especially magical information, meaning that not only can they more easily recall knowledge, but they have no need for spellbooks or familiars, able to reference and prepare their magic directly from memory, though the process of memorizing such magic still requires expensive herbs to help them concentrate on committing them to memory.

Nearly immortal, yaddithians have lifespans measured in millenia, never seeming to age after maturity and being completely immune to magical aging by virtue of there simply being no difference that such paltry magics can latch onto.

With their intelligence bonus and ability to never worry about losing a spellbook or familiar, yaddithians are just begging to be paired up with the witch or wizard class. However, that’s not all they’re good for. Though it doesn’t say so specifically, I’d argue that this applies to formulae books as well, making alchemist and investigator very viable options, especially with the bonus to knowledge checks as well. Their con bonus also makes them surprisingly durable, making kineticist and melee classes quite viable, especially magus. The wisdom penalty does mean that non-oracle or paladin divine classes have some hampering, but it’s nothing these brilliant and ancient beings can’t get around.

[winniethewife]

You Can’t Always Save Everybody.

(Miguel O’hara x Spidersona!Scarlette Web)

Chapter 1

Words:1467

Warning; Angst, Violence

A new super villain with the moniker Scarlette Web was causing problems. There was no precedent for this in any other universe. But she wasn't an anomaly. She was supposed to be there. But why wasn't the local spider stopping her? Miguel, Peter B. And Gwen go to the universe in question to investigate.

 “She should have been capable enough to defeat this Scarlet Web person on her own with no complications.” Miguel says to the group as they stake out a high up building. He couldn’t help but feel uneasy. Just then they hears a voice from behind him.

“Miguel O'Hara. I'm surprised it took you this long to come investigate. You're usually so on top of these disruptions in canon.” There stood the Scarlett Web. Her dark red and black suit was quite reminiscent of a classic Spiderman suit, with additions, high heel boots, bracers, and a cowl. What really bothered him was that her voice was really familiar. And the way she held herself.

“Sarlette web, I presume?” Miguel questioned

“In the flesh.” She says with a sadistic tone in her voice. She uses web shooters to stick him to the wall behind him. Something they didn’t expect. Miguel found it impossible to move, this was not normal webbing. He struggled to get out as she fought off the others.

“Woah, Hey wait you like know all my good moves!” Peter exclaims as She easily fights him off and easily webs his arms together and kicks his legs out from under him. Gwen was to busy fighting off some spider-like robots too even have a second to notice Scarlette approach, she puts her hand over Gwen’s mouth and some kind of sleeping agent penetrates her mask and she’s out cold.  

“Nice to see some familiar faces.” She snidely remarks as she walks up to Miguel. “How’s the new web formula I created? Several times stronger than what you use at the society. Plus with the added bonus is the more you struggle the harder it is to get out.”

“No way hang on…Miguel…it’s-” Peter realizes who they were dealing with.

“Valentine…” Miguel is taken by surprise.

Valentine Foxx joined the Spider-society early on, an amazing inventor, she was a little cold a little distant. She had lost her husband just under a year before, they had been together since sophomore year of high school, It hadn’t helped when a man almost identical to her husband had shown up and asked her to become a part of the Spider Society.

Her Miguel was thinner, less muscular, he had several tattoos and piercings, he was a Bassist for a Punk band that was just starting to get popular when the unthinkable happened. A shooting at a concert, Miguel was declared DOA, dead on arrival. Valentine was fighting Green Goblin the night it happened. There was nothing she could have done. Valentine had hardly recovered, when The figure of Miguel O’hara, Spiderman 2099, came into her life.

Although He looked like her husband they had very little in common personality wise. What surprised most that knew either of the two however was they became fast friends. Miguel had a soft spot for her, and she let down her barriers of ice for him. It seemed like they had really found solace in each other’s company. That was until everything had happened with Miles, and Miguel closed her out. No more patrols together, No more quite afternoons in the lab, no more slightly drunken escapades where they got closer than they should have, none of that. Valentine felt like she had lost everything all over again. So one day, She portaled home, threw her gizmo in a drawer and wasn’t seen for months…until now.

 ~

She was so different now, it felt wrong. Miguel struggled against the webs, only to get himself further stuck.

“You’re not Valentine…” Miguel hissed. “She would never do this!” But that voice…

 “Believe it O'hara!” She hissed before pulling her mask off to reveal her face. It was most definitely Valentine. Those piercing midnight eyes, the beautiful raven hair, the porcelain skin. That was definitely her. “How far the mighty have fallen hm? A spider woman switching sides? Inconceivable right? Well here I am.” She continues in that venomous tone with a smirk on her face as she watches his reaction.

 “This isn’t you…” Miguel said “What the hell happened to you?” he questioned, as her voice caused him to flinch every now and then. It was almost unsettling, to hear her voice say such things.

“Oh this is me Miguel. This is the me you created...”she chuckles slightly “what the hell happened to me? You. You happened to me. You got under my skin. Made me think I was doing good for the multiverse. Made me think that all the suffering I went through was worth it. Being spider woman is about sacrifices. The choices we make along the way. With great power comes great responsibility....” She mocks him before coming in really close and turning off his holographic mask. “All that bullshit you tell us right?”

“You’ve lost your way…” Miguel stated, the truth stinging. “You went off the deep end…” Miguel could see it in her eyes, she meant what she said. He was responsible for letting things get this far, he pushed one of his closest friend too far.

“Oh yeah I got pretty fucking lost. Went from having a community, a close friend, someone I thought I could trust with my entire self.” Her eyes glare into his with intensity. “But then I just became a thorn in your side right? I was easily discarded. It's easy to forget about little Valentine.” She sneers at him. “Poor little spider girl, hangs on Miguel's every word, practically worshipped the ground he walked on, wanted nothing more than to be his friend, his confidant…” She grabs his hair and pulls it up hard hitting his head into the wall. “Easy to lose track of her right?”

Valentine was truly gone.

“You’re not Valentine! Where’s the Valentine I know! What happened to her?!” Miguel questioned, as he began writhing. He began to get angrier and angrier with her.

“Oh, at first she just cried...for days. Wondering what she did wrong. One day there was a knock at the door and she thought for sure it was you. There to make everything better. But no!” She pulls his hair again so He's looking directly at her. “After that she hid in the closet for a couple days. Eventually she finally got mad. And once she got mad she got pissed. And now she...is me.” She narrows her eyes at him.

“You… are insane.” he hissed. Every time she pulled his hair or hurt him in some way Miguel felt like he was losing his mind. As she spoke that dark smile on her faces pissed him off. Her words were getting under his skin, and it was infuriating.

“Oh, if you think I'm insane now...”she kissed her teeth. “At first I just wanted you to fucking pay attention. I just wanted you to notice. But I quickly figured out, it's a lot of fun to be the bad guy.” She grins at him as she yanks his head back hitting his head on the wall again before laughing. “If it's so bad why does it feel so damn good?” She pulls his face closer to hers and she grins at him with a sadistic evil glint in her eye. Miguel tried struggling, but the more he tried, the more stuck he got.

“Damn it. She really is crazy…” Peter says quietly.

The way she looked was unsettling. Her dark eyes blood shot, her every word dripping with venom.

“You aren’t My Valentine though.” Miguel hissed. ”My Valentine wouldn’t do this.”

She tuts her tongue at him and releases his hair before grabbing him by the chin. As she made him look into her eyes the smile faded from her face.

“You keep telling yourself that. Whatever lets you sleep at night Miggy.” She uses that nickname the one he only lets her use. For flash of a second he can see his Valentine in her eyes as the shimmer slightly with tears. She closes her eyes and lets his face go. Valentine starts to walk away.

“Go ahead and tell everyone back home that I’m the villain now but please... don’t forget to tell them… you created me.” She says with a sense of finality. She swings away from the scene. Knowing that although the new webbing formula was more dangerous and deadly it only lasted about an hour. And she was running out of time to get out of there before Miguel and the others were free from the webs.

~

Next chapter

Masterlist

Tag: @femmeanonymelives

[hirocimacruiser]

Puma Mitsubishi Lancer Evo V

Mitsubishi TEST&SERVICE

Debuted in the second race. In qualifying, he suddenly took the first corner of R. In the finals, he was at the top for a while. 4th place in qualifying (1st in class), 4th in final (1st in class). Driver: Akihiko Nakatani/Sakae Obata.

③Suspension damper is KYB. The spring is Ralliart. ④Safety fuel tank is made by ATN. Capacity is 120ℓ. ⑤The steering wheel is MOMO buckskin. ⑥ The meter is Pi system. On the left is the Omori boost gauge. ⑦The door hinges are carved out because they hit the roll cage. (8, 9) was originally a work RS-Z (8JX 17). The tires are 225/45R17 ADVAN. 1⑩ Replace the radiator with one made by Denso. (11) The oil cooler is genuine. (12) Aero mirror is Valdisport. ⑬The rear is equipped with a differential cooler. LSD is Ralliart (viscous only in the center). (14)The roll bar passes through the bulkhead. The tower bar is Valdisport. There was a WRC plan for the ECU, but the current one is the original. Commercialization is also under consideration. (15)The muffler is thin, about 80mm. (16)The yellow part on the console is the starter, and the one below is the water spray. (17) The roll cage is for FIA-approved rallies. (18) shift is a sword. The knob is a small screwdriver, which is my preference. (19) seats are Valdisport Type II. (20) The roll cage looks like a bird cage. Please compare it with the Impreza on the right.

In the second race, they defeated the Nissan Development Team's GT-R. The tire size/tread has been expanded since Evo IV, reducing the time by approximately 2 seconds.

Exceeded IV in all aspects. There are no flaws!

``The new EVO V has solved all the shortcomings of the EVO IV . In particular, thanks to the wider tread, cornering speed has improved dramatically. It has become my specialty.'' Mr. Yamada of Test & Service maintains the ``Puma Evo,'' which achieved amazing times and came close to the G T-R. When building the vehicle, they placed emphasis on improving the suspension, which is subject to increased strain due to the increased cornering force. Therefore, in testing and service, even if a high input value is added, it cannot be accepted.

I decided to build a strong body. However, the main difference from the Impreza is that instead of welding reinforcement such as adding more spots, the main reinforcement is the extensive use of a strong roll bar that penetrates the body and is also used in WRC. Looking at each part, there are only a few welded parts. The weight is also 30kg more than the standard. This idea is common to the EVO era. With the reinforcement so far, the driver

``I can feel the movement of my feet''

It seems that the comments are satisfying. The engine has a proven track record of being packed to the hilt, starting with the Evo, and is powerful and stable enough to keep its rivals at bay. The cooling performance seems to be high, and the original oil cooler is used as is. “If we keep boiling it down like this, we can last for at least one fight.”

Nakatani seemed to be breathing heavily.

PROVA Eifel Dunlop GC8 Impreza

Debuted in last year's final race! Suddenly took first place in qualifying. This year, he will participate in the second race. 12th place in qualifying (8th in class), retired in finals. Driver: Kazuo Shimizu/Tsutomu Shibuya.

④ The fuel tank is 120ℓ. (5, 6, 7) All aero parts are Prova. The side duct is effective in cooling the brakes. ⑧⑨ The tires are DL/Formula R (205/ 50R16) and the Enkei Sports 7.5J x 16. (10) differential cooler is made by Calsonic. (11) The Prova damper and spring are Swift from Tokyo Spring. (12) Two oil coolers are installed on the engine and one on the transmission. In particular, the latter has a high calorific value and is a must-have item. The radiator is also a large capacity type. ⑬The steering wheel is Impul 913 special. (14)The engine is STi tuned. Management is the same as for WRC cars. The roll cage has been changed and the battery has been made smaller. (15)The seat is full carbon made by Mooncraft. (16) The roll cage is very simple. (17,18) meter is Pi system. On the console, from the right, there is a transmission oil pump, a differential oil pump, and a reserve tank switch for using up to the last liter. Below is a display switch for the Pi data logger. ⑲The square plate visible at the back of the rear center section is the weight. (20) The rear suspension mounting area has been fully reinforced with welding.

This is the first car that Fuji Heavy Industries has officially started working on, from rally to circuit. Once you get used to the world of racing, it can be intimidating.

Unexpected or unexpected. 4 doors are more rigid than 2 doors

``Thanks to the horizontally opposed engine, everything is symmetrical, which means excellent weight balance.This is the lifeblood and appeal of this car.Also, by making full use of the four-wheel drive provided, cornering performance is improved. However, it's the direction of the settings. Thanks to this, the advantage is that you can turn with the same feeling whether it's a rainy day or a sunny day.'' Mr. Fukushima from Bulova Race Garage will be participating in the race. However, the design is older than its rivals, and it seems that the body rigidity is completely lacking, so strengthening it is necessary for the vehicle.

The most important item in production. especially the way it twists

It is said that reinforcement has been focused on the suspension mounting area (to increase suspension rigidity). Also, since last year, the use of flashy two-doors has been allowed in Super Taikyu, but the only reason why four-doors are still used is because they are highly rigid.

The roll cage isn't used much either visually. This was done to reduce weight, and only the minimum necessary parts were included after thorough body reinforcement. The weight was 30kg lighter than the standard, and 30kg was placed as weight on the passenger seat and rear center to thoroughly improve the weight balance. The body is completely finished, but is this it?

Their problem is the engine. It's a little lacking in power. If I go up a little bit more, I can catch up with EVO. It seems like STi's hard work will determine what happens next.

[ncisfranchise-source]

As humans in a changing world we crave continuity, reliability. Before we walk into a room, we like to be fairly certain of what we’ll find — walls, floor, furniture, not hot coals or clouds of poison gas. Thus the popularity of the franchise. It may not lead to great, revolutionary art, but at the end of a long day, when you kick off your shoes and sink down into the sofa, you may not be in the mood for “Les Demoiselles d’Avignon” or a stuffed goat with a tire around its middle.

“NCIS,” for Naval Criminal Investigative Service, is a theoretically inexhaustible series about an elevated team of military police investigating cases involving military personnel; you might think that is too shallow a drawer to fill several series over many years, but you would be wrong, especially given how thin the writers are willing to stretch that connection.

The series offers a full-course meal of mainstream theatrical possibilities. It’s a police procedural, a metaphorical family comedy, a workplace comedy, a soap opera, a melodrama, a low-budget action adventure. You get good-looking heroes, a smattering of goofballs, a quirky medical examiner or two, a little romance — the amino acids of many such procedurals, to be sure, but “NCIS” is especially deft at combining kick-back entertainment with lean-forward tension. The military association adds a patriotic element, which I imagine some viewers prize, though the very premise of the series implies that the military is not squeaky clean. These aren’t shows I customarily watch, but it’s easy to see why people do.

The franchise has included iterations set in Los Angeles, New Orleans, Hawaii and Sydney, each applying local color and flavor to a tried-and-true formula; some have come and gone, some have not been around long enough to go, but none is likely to display the staying power or global penetration of the original, about to embark Monday on its 22nd season.

Following that premiere on CBS, home to all “NCIS” series, is the newest addition to the family, “NCIS: Origins.” Instead of setting up in a new city, however, we are being sent through time, back to 1991, when “newly minted special agent” Leroy Jethro Gibbs (Austin Stowell), played by Mark Harmon in the original and narrating here, has just joined the team he will one day lead. (A team that has not yet added the C to its acronym, which looks odd on the windbreakers but is quicker to bark at suspects.)

We are in Oceanside — a new city, after all — on the grounds of Camp Pendleton. That it’s the least obviously sexy setting in the “NCIS” collection — no offense, Oceanside, not to say the ocean itself — is echoed in the team’s drab Quonset-hut headquarters, a stark contrast to the bright, modern, high-tech lairs of the contemporary shows. Here, we’re in a world of phone booths, pagers and bulky computers no one knows how to work, of Walkmans and videotape, which both simplifies and complicates the action. It is, in its way, a kind of relief, a vacation from Now.

Harmon, who left the series after the 19th season to be replaced by Gary Cole, established the model of the “NCIS” team leader — the stern yet supportive surrogate parent, time-worn, time-tested, ever ready to buck hidebound authority when necessary. Young Gibbs, a Marine sniper just recalled from Iraq after the murder of his wife and child, is not (yet) that person, though we get some hints he might be: his numbered “rules,” his “gut feelings.” At the moment, he’s neck-deep in trauma, getting in bar fights, failing his “psych eval.” There is some concern that he’s unstable, not quite Mel-Gibson-in-“Lethal Weapon” crazy, but potentially a danger to himself and others.

That the main character is a member of the team rather than its leader, as in other “NCIS” series, can feel a little awkward, given that it’s necessary for Gibbs, fresh behind the ears though he may be, to stand out from the group — that he see what others miss, and can handle a situation in an original way. When he says of a suspect, “He’s not our guy,” it won’t be that guy. It throws the ensemble off balance.

The team leader is Mike Franks (Kyle Schmid), Gibbs’ cowboy predecessor and mentor; with his horseshoe mustache, dark glasses and cigarettes, he’s like a ’90s cop dressed as a ’70s cop. (Older Franks, played by Muse Watson, appeared in some dramatic episodes of “NCIS.”) Hot-shot agent Lala Dominguez (Mariel Molino) is competitive and wary of Gibbs. (“You’re on my squad,” says Gibbs upon meeting her. “No, you’re on mine,” she replies, reasonably enough.) Agent Vera Strickland (Diany Rodriguez), who briefly appeared in the original series, is so far underused. (Only four episodes were available for review.)

Dark feelings and internal conflicts characterize these first episodes, which are full of raised voices, clenched jaws and steely stares. Necessary mood lightening is supplied by agent Randy Randolf (Caleb Martin Foote), friendly, chatty and the only one who wears a suit to work; “head secretary in charge” Mary Jo Hayes (Tyla Abercrumbie); and Granville “Granny” Dawson (Daniel Bellomy), promoted after a couple of episodes to the K-9 squad and the care of a dog named Special Agent Gary Callahan. (“It’s just the one dog, but he’s all the dog you need.”) Bobby Moynihan (major comic relief), Lori Petty and Julian Black Antelope provide forensic backup.

As to Stowell, he is square-jawed and broad-shouldered and though his casting was obviously the end of many discussions, he does not strike me as someone who will grow up to become Mark Harmon. (Harmon’s son Sean, who had the original idea for “Origins,” developed by franchise vets David J. North and Gina Lucita Monreal, played the younger Gibbs in “NCIS” flashbacks.) He could stand to relax a little. But perhaps that’s the point.

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Move over HDTudor. Narcissism is Prof Sam Vaknin's area of interest because he too was one. The following YT about why narcissists are irresistible (to some) is jaw-droppingly insightful. Not about H &amp; M but it explains their relationship to a T. by u/Positive-Vibes-2-All

Move over HDTudor. Narcissism is Prof Sam Vaknin's area of interest because he too was one. The following YT about why narcissists are irresistible (to some) is jaw-droppingly insightful. Not about H & M but it explains their relationship to a T. Very briefly here are some main points, points he covers in much greater detail1- Narcs convey the message that they are open to all sexual kinks however over time sex becomes formulaic because narcs are never really involved during sex, they are simply performing a role2 - Narcs are polarizing - some people react to them with disgust, others are utterly entranced3 - Because they create chaos and confusion people who like high risk among other things are very attracted to them. They sense narcs are dangerous and that is a turn on4 - Narcs appear to be highly confident and this attracts people who have certain traits such as co-dependency among other things (which he discusses in more detail) . Their confidence makes their partners who have never felt confident themselves to feel supremely confident and sexy. Furthermore their self-confidence is associated with parental authority and this sparks a regression in the partner. The partner feels that the narc is like a parent who will take care of them.These are just some points he covers. I'm not dissing on HD Tudor, I'm just saying this guy too has some very penetrating insights into narcissism. I'm just bowled over by how much of what he says applies to H & M.NILF: Why Narcissists are Irresistible, Sexy (to some)https://youtu.be/InB9NuDEXwY​ post link: https://ift.tt/Xazsho5 author: Positive-Vibes-2-All submitted: December 31, 2023 at 08:40AM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit

[ilhoonftw]

fyi cosmetic brands are not exactly honest about concentration in cosmetics, just use whatever you can afford. every country has different regulations regarding the order of things on ingredients list. i used to see a lot of 'omg they reformulated!' posts on polish skincare groups whenever korean brand started selling stuff officially and had to re-write ingredients list order to comply with eu regulations (you can't sell a foreign made beauty product without ingredients list translated). normally the order goes from 'most to least' but under certain % you can list the ingredients in whatever order you want. so some companies move ingredients that are most enticing to the consumers up front. let's say a formulation has 4 ingredients that are under a 10% mark that allows order randomization. it should go 9% preservative 8% fragrance 7% fatty alcohol 3% herb extract 2% trehalose. but the brand knows consumers won't like that so they usually move the last 2 i mentioned to the front. it's legal. another things is sunscreens notoriously being sold as spf 50+ and later on independent tests show that the accurate rating is spf 2. or the trend where brands release products with super high % of active substance when it's not only not recommended by derms to use this much but also you consumers can injure their skin. it's better to use lower % on regular basis over longer period of time. and who knows if the % is even legit and if the rest of the formula actually is designed in a way that allows the active to penetrate the skin and do anything. collagen serums for one won't do much except moisturize. they won't smooth out wrinkles idk. skincare industry is focused on selling shit to women and alike, which is kinda vile considering how much hormones can wreck your skin even if you do "everything right". and your body is running on hormones and skin is ever-changing

[butterco]

How to Manage Frizz and Humidity: Curly Hair Products for a Smooth Finish

Introduction:

Frizz and humidity can wreak havoc on curly hair, leaving you feeling frustrated and defeated. But fear not! With the right curly hair products, you can tame those unruly strands and achieve a smooth, sleek finish. In this comprehensive guide, we'll explore the best strategies for managing frizz and humidity, as well as the Buy curly hair products online in India. Whether you're looking to enhance your natural curls or achieve a straighter style, we've got you covered.

Understanding Frizz and Humidity:

Before we dive into the world of curly hair products, it's essential to understand the root cause of frizz and humidity. Curly hair tends to be drier than straight hair, making it more susceptible to frizz when exposed to humidity. This is because the outer layer of the hair, known as the cuticle, is raised, allowing moisture from the air to penetrate the hair shaft and disrupt the curl pattern.

Choosing the Right Products:

When it comes to managing frizz and humidity, the key is to choose the right products for your hair type. Look for formulas specifically designed to hydrate and nourish curly hair, such as sulfate-free shampoos and conditioners enriched with moisturizing ingredients like coconut oil, shea butter, and argan oil. These products will help seal the cuticle, preventing moisture from penetrating the hair shaft and causing frizz.

Top Curly Hair Products:

Now that you understand the importance of choosing the right products let's take a look at some of the best curly hair products available online in India.

Moisturizing Shampoo:

Start your curly hair routine off right with a moisturizing shampoo that gently cleanses without stripping away natural oils. Look for formulas infused with hydrating ingredients like glycerin and aloe vera to help soften and smooth the hair.

Hydrating Conditioner:

Follow up your shampoo with a hydrating conditioner to lock in moisture and keep frizz at bay. Choose a rich, creamy formula that coats each strand, leaving your curls feeling soft, smooth, and manageable.

Leave-In Conditioner:

For an extra boost of hydration, consider adding a leave-in conditioner to your curly hair routine. These lightweight formulas can be applied to damp hair to help detangle, soften, and define curls while providing protection against humidity.

Curl Defining Cream:

To enhance your natural curl pattern and minimize frizz, invest in a curl defining cream. These styling products are formulated to provide hold and definition without weighing down your curls, leaving them bouncy, shiny, and frizz Shop curl products for curly hair.

Anti-Frizz Serum:

Finish off your curly hair routine with an anti-frizz serum to seal the cuticle and add a glossy finish. Look for lightweight formulas that won't leave your hair feeling greasy or weighed down, and be sure to concentrate the product on the ends of your hair where frizz is most likely to occur.

Where to Buy Curly Hair Products Online in India:

Ready to say goodbye to frizz and hello to smooth, sleek curls? Shop for the best curly hair products online in India at Butterco. We offer a wide range of top-quality shampoos, conditioners, styling products, and more, all specially formulated to meet the unique needs of curly hair. With our convenient online ordering and fast shipping, achieving the perfect curl has never been easier.

Conclusion:

Butterco Managing frizz and humidity doesn't have to be a constant battle. With the right curly hair products and a proper hair care routine, you can achieve smooth, sleek curls that turn heads wherever you go. Invest in high-quality products designed specifically for curly hair, and say goodbye to frizz for good. So why wait? Shop online today and discover the secret to beautiful, manageable curls.

[cadybear420]

My thoughts on the 2022 Choices releases so far

Even though it's long past 2022, I still wanna do one for its books I was active that year. Not for 2021 though, since I was still very new to the app starting in that year. I am currently working on a masterlist for all Choices books though.

Some of these books, I have not fully read or caught up with yet, but I'm still providing my opinion on what I anticipate for them.

Surrender

I'll put this as briefly as I can. They try to push the story as being about a MC who escapes a toxic partner and rediscovers herself through BDSM. Except the love interest in question Reagan is toxic towards her from Day Fucking One. And the writers say it wouldn't make sense for MC to dom right away, except they had no problem making her want to be Reagan's sub right away.

Ms. Match

The MC and LI's banter was fun, but other than that, this one was really forgettable and flavorless.

Untameable

Nope nope nope. This book was just so empty and filled with forcing high stakes where there are none. Kit has zero personality to me, and the only thing that makes the romance "forbidden" is that Austin will throw a baby temper tantrum once he finds out.

It wasn't even the "dumb fun smut" kind of bad that TNA 1 was. It was just... nothing. Heck, it didn't even feel all that smutty outside of like those CGs. No idea why it got a sequel but hey, Unbridled so far seems like it will be much better.

Crimes of Passion

This one was alright. The MC's character and their dynamic with Trystan was certainly very refreshing to the usual Choices formulas. And the story was interesting enough. But besides that, I found it overall mostly lukewarm and there wasn't much that stood out to me.

The Princess Swap

It's exactly what it was on the title, and I think it did that job alright. A little more effort could have gone into it but it was still a sweet and fun little "Prince and the Pauper" story.

The Cursed Heart

This one was alright. I certainly could have done without Kieran's more abusive behaviors, but it was otherwise a pretty solid story. Definitely one of those books that's much more interesting when played as anything other than wlm.

And I think we can all agree that this one is visually just gorgeous. The backgrounds, the outfits, etc.

The Nanny Affair 3

This one has to be the worst of the 3 Nanny Affair books. The whole drama with Addison reads like an r/AmITheAsshole post made for validation purposes. And the Jenny/Aditya plotline was so blatantly a proxy affair so that PB could have that accidental pregnancy plot that they couldn't have with Sam and MC. Cause let's be real, they totally would have had Sam knock up MC at the gala in Book 1 if not for the fact that they're GOC.

But I'll give them one thing though. This is probably the first and only book I have ever seen that allowed a female character (MC in particular) to penetrate her male LI's bootyhole. Yes kiddies, in the first smut scene in Ch 1, you get an option to play with Sam's ass, and they describe you slipping a finger between his cheeks. Sucks that we're still waiting for some proper cheek-clapping one and a half years later though.

Immortal Desires

This one was pretty fun. Definitely another one where playing anything but wlm (well, 100% wlm) will be a more interesting experience.

I don't think it's quite as brilliant as Bloodbound, story-wise. Though one thing it does do better than BB is not being pointlessly genderlocked. That being said, it does have a sequel coming soon. So it's not exactly complete enough to be fully compared.

Murder at Homecoming

Definitely one of the better, if not the best, release of 2022. The story is a bit linear, but it works. And I do love how they incorporated queer themes into the story, like with how your MC can talk about (if any) their own queer experience and how romantic dialogue with Tyler changes if your MC is male or enby to talk about how he used to think he was straight.

My only real problem is that it didn't feel like Perdita had as much importance in the story as the writers clearly wanted her to have, and that made it harder to get invested in it. That being said, I think not learning what really happened to her was a fairly nuanced ending and while I'd love a sequel to the story, having us find out what really happened would be a major disservice to that nuance.

The Phantom Agent

Ohhhh this one is such a guilty pleasure for me. I'm a total sucker for secret agent/spy stories and James Bond-esque stuff and this one was great for that. Is it one of their best-made stories? No. But it's certainly a very refreshing and enjoyable one.

Also props to this for being probably the only GOC-LI romance story I've ever seen where the wlm version is actually refreshing for once. It especially shows with the interactions with characters like Nurse Lou and Alexis Reid, but Agent Grey and even Rowan have a few good moments too.

Slow Burn

This one was such a dissappointment holy god. It's just 95% helping out a bunch of randos with their restaurants and MC barely gets to do any actual cooking.

[communistkenobi]

The existence of such ignorance and confusion as we find in the interviews of subjects, particularly when we consider the relatively high educational level which they as a group represent, has to be regarded as ominous, no matter whether the subjects in question score high or low on our scales. The configuration of technical skill and the "realism" of "looking after oneself" on the one hand, and of the stubborn refusal intellectually to penetrate reality on the other, is the very climate in which fascist movements can prosper. Where this outlook prevails, a critical situation may easily lead to the general acceptance of formulae which are today still regarded as prerogatives of the "lunatic fringe."

This seems to be the synthesis to the tension of the other findings in the study. There is a definite limit to the idea of “re-educating” fascists and reactionaries, that truth will always prevail and that the biggest hurdle reactionaries face is a lack of access to information. I think the authors’ sample being largely middle class is to their benefit in this regard, because it puts the lie to this idea - these people are largely educated at the college and university level, they have the means to educate themselves in virtually any manner they choose, which means their ignorance can be regarded as actively anti-intellectual. It also highlights how reductive the idea that “rural hicks” are the primary drivers of bigotry, that poverty is the reason for backwards views. It certainly doesn’t help, obviously, but access to education does not inherently produce a well-informed public.

[transgenderer]

Prayer among the Kwakwiutl

Kwakwiutl Ethnography, Franz Boas. note that the original text includes the kwakwiutl words for but im just typing up the translations because i dont have the symbols. my notes in parentheses+italics

All nature, the heavenly bodies, rocks and islands, waterfalls, animals, and plants are being of supernatural power who man can approach with prayer, whose help he can ask, and to whom me may express his thanks. Prayers do not have a fixed form that makes them potent by the power of the repetition of the formula. They are all similar in form but express the emotion that fills the one who appeals for help or renders his thanks. At the end of a prayer, the supplicant himself answers, "Hau, it will happen that way".

The powers are addressed by honorific names; animals, by descriptive names that differ from their everuday names, without being exactly honorific or sacred. All are addressed as "Supernatural One". The sun is the Great-Chief or Father. Dangerous places are called Old-Man, Great-Owner-of-the-Weather; plants used as food or medicine are called Life-Owner, Long-Life-Maker

A number of these terms have the ending "-Making-Woman" like the last or like Rich-Making-Woman, and Right-Making-Woman. Evil powers are named in analogous forms, such as Short-Life-Maker-Woman and Killing-Woman. I am not at all certain whether these terms are nowadays in any way felt as personifications. They are also applied to very specific action, such as such as Sore-Healing-woman and in ordinary speech, such as poor (literally "pitiable-making-woman"), which is used as an adjective.

The olachen (note: usually eulachon or candlefish, a ~6-inch fatty river fish) is addressed as Chief-of-the-Upper-Side-of-our-World (?! what could this mean? perhaps because they swim up rivers to spawn, towards the mountains?). Salmon are generally called Swimmers. The halibut is called Born-to-be-Giver-in-the-House, Scenting-Woman, Flabby-Skin-in-the-Mouth, Squint-Eye; the beaver Throwing-Down-in-one-Day, Tree-Feller, Weather-Owner (connection to "owner of the weather" for dangerous places? perhaps because beavers make trees fall, dangerous, and falls from the sky like weather?)

Halibut Hooks are called Younger-Brothers

When praying, the supplicant stands still or sits down in front of the one he is praying to and directs his eyes at him.

At sunrise the Indian may pray to the sun, "Welcome, Great Chief, Father, as you come and show yourself this morning. We come and meet alive. Oh, protect me and let nothing evil befall me today, Father!"

"Look at me, Chief, that nothing evil may befall me this day which is made by you as you desire, Great-One-Walking-to-and-fro-all-over-the-World, Chief!"

When caught in a gale at sea, the canoe man prays to the sun, "Press down the sea in your world, Great Chief, Father, that it may become good, that your world may become right on the water, Great Father!"

Dangerous rocky islands and points are called Old-Man. In passing one of these in rough water, the traveler will pray "Look at me, Old-Man! Let the weather made by you spare me (so the source of danger from the weather is also the cause of the weather? perhaps sense that the rocks want to be broken up on? almost like cui bono), and, pray, protect me that no evil may befall me while i am traveling on this sea, Old-Man, that i may arrive at the place to which I am going, Great-Supernatural-One, Old-Man", or when passing in good weather,

"Oh Old Man, I pray before you. Have mercy and watch the weather that you are making, that it may remain calm at sea, Good-Supernatural-One; protect me, that the words of those who hate me may not penetrate me, that what they wish to do to me may just go into them" (belief that bad weather is caused by enemy magic? unclear)

A cascade in Knight Inlet is so high and full that it causes a strong wind and heavy spray at its foot. When the Indians go there for olachen fishing, they undress, and the whole tribe visit the falls in their canoes. One man stands up in his canoe and prays, "Welcome, Old-Man, we have come and meet alive. I have asked you for this, Great-Supernatural-One, last year when I came, I beg you to have mercy and to blow off all evil from us, all our sickness, Great-Supernatural-One, so that we may come to life. Protect our sickness, Great-Supernatural-One, and also, please, let the weather you are making be fine, Great-Good-Supernatural-One, you who are not a common person, Old-Man"

The workman will also pray to the material or tool he is going to use in his work

[section about praying to a tree you are about to fell, a trap you are building, and a net you are using to catch fish]

The hunter prays to his game or other animals he encounters. After killing a grizzly bear, he says, "O Great-Supernatural-One, you are lying there, overcome by me, friend! I have struck you first with my death bringer. Listen to me, Supernatural-One, now i will take by war your power of not respecting anyone or anything, of being fearless, and your wildness, great, good Supernatural-One"

After killing a beaver, he prays, "Welcome, friend Throwing-Down-in-One-Day, you Tree-Feller, for you have agreed to come to me. I wanted to catch you because I wish you to give me your ability to work, that I may be like you, for there is no work that you cannot do, you Throwing-Down-in-One-Day, you Tree-Feller, you Owner-of-Weather, and also that no evil befall me in what I am doing, friend"