#how did this tradition get into our society

[thatonelittleindiekid]

Am I the only person who feels awkward about kissing relatives on the cheeks at Christmas? Like in a polite greeting kind of way.

I do not only have this with Christmas just with people in general.

Also the cringey part is that you always have that 0,3 seconds staring exchange moment with the other person if you are going in for a small kiss or not... like, do you want this? yes? no? Ok hi, oh hiiiii other relative and suddenly I forgot I needed to go somewhere else oh hi dog look at dog let's play with dog dog is cute

THE END.

[bunisher]

might be the aro in me but i think one of the reasons i don’t ship mattfoggy is because i enjoy the idea of platonic intimacy and friendship without romance. i enjoy them as best friends, because their friendship is not any less than romantic love or needs to be. especially for characters like them, i think it’s important that they have friendships that are not inherently romantic. matt, because he has severe abandonment trauma and avoidant attachment, where all of his romances have ended in some form of tragedy. he has trouble feeling comfortable with people, he feels like he has to perform in many aspects, and does not with foggy, at least not anymore. trust is a hard earned thing with him, but it’s not just about trusting with being a hero, but trusting to be himself. in regards to foggy, because he also has his own issues regarding family and not feeling accepted. he needs that friend who provides the motivation, validation, and feeling of being good enough just for being him. his insecurities often come from being underestimated, being awkward, not fitting in, and with matt he can just be. they’re able to have a relationship with each other that has rupture and repair, knowing eventually after time it’s them against conflict and not them against each other. they set the standard for each other in how romantic relationships are. they provide that safe place for love that doesn’t have the weight of being someone’s everything or partner. they’re already partners! they’re best friends. i personally am a little in love with all of my friends, and i am utterly devoted to them. i will be affectionate and supportive and loving and i am not dating them. so yeah i see how stuff could be read romantic, i understand why people enjoy the ship, i get it, i do. but it’s more powerful to me when it’s not. romance is not the end all be all and that’s why i am obsessed with their friendship without it being this stepping stone for romance or there being no other explanation.

[screambirdscreaming]

I used to like saying "gender is a social construct," but I stopped saying that because people didn't tend to react well - they thought that I was saying gender wasn't real, or didn't matter, or could be safely ignored without consequences. Which has always baffled me a bit as an interpretation, honestly, because many things are social constructs - like money, school, and the police - and they certainly have profound effects on your life whether or not you believe in them. And they sure don't go away if you ignore them.

Anyway. What I've taken to saying instead is, "gender is a cultural practice." This gives more of a sense of respect for the significance gender holds to many people. And it also opens the door to another couple layers of analysis.

Gender is cultural. It is not globally or historically homogeneous. It shifts over time, develops differently in different communities, and can be influenced by cross-cultural contact. Like many, many aspects of culture, the current status of gender is dramatically influenced by colonialism. Colonial gender norms are shaped by the hierarchical structure of imperialist society, and enforced onto colonized cultures as part of the project of imperial cultural hedgemony.

Gender is practiced. What constitutes a gender includes affects and behaviors, jobs or areas of work, skillsets, clothing, collective and individual practices of gender affiliation and affirmation. Any or all of these things, in any combination, depending on the gender, the culture, and the practitioner.

Gender encompasses shared cultural archetypes. These can include specific figures - gods and goddesses, mythic or fictional characters, etc - or they can be more abstract or general. The Wise Woman, Robin Hood, the Dyke, the Working Man, the Plucky Heroine, the Effete Gay Man, etc etc. The range of archetypes does not circumscribe a given gender, that is, they're not all there is to gender. But they provide frameworks and reference points by which people relate to gender. They may be guides for ways to inhabit or practice a gender. They may be stereotypes through which the gendered behavior of others is viewed.

Gender as a framework can be changed. Because it is created collectively, by shared acknowledgement and enforcement by members of society. Various movements have made significant shifts in how gender is structured at various times and places. The impact of these shifts has been widely variable - for example, depending on what city I'm in, even within my (fairly culturally homogeneous) home country, the way I am gendered and reacted to changes dramatically. Looping back to point one, we often speak of gender in very broad terms that obscure significant variability which exists on many scales.

Gender is structured recursively. This can be seen in the archetypes mentioned above, which range from extremely general (say, the Mother) to highly specific (the PTA Soccer Mom). Even people who claim to acknowledge only two genders will have many concepts of gendered-ways-of-being within each of them, which they may view and react to VERY differently.

Gender is experienced as an external cultural force. It cannot be opted out of, any more than living in a society can be opted out of. Regardless of the internal experience of gender, the external experience is also present. Operating within the shared cultural understanding of gender, one can aim to express a certain practice of gender - to make legible to other people how it is you interface with gender. This is always somewhat of a two-way process of communication. Other people may or may not perceive what you're going for - and they may or may not respect it. They may try to bring your expressed gender into alignment with a gender they know, or they might parcel you off into your own little box.

Gender is normative. Within the structure of the "cultural mainstream," there are allowable ways to practice gender. Any gendered behavior is considered relative to these standards. What behavior is allowed, rewarded, punished, or shunned is determined relative to what is gender normative for your perceived gender. Failure to have a clearly perceivable gender is also, generally, punished. So is having a perceivable gender which is in itself not normative.

Gender is taught by a combination of narratives, punishments, and encouragements. This teaching process is directed most strongly towards children but continues throughout adulthood. Practice of normatively-gendered behaviors and alignment with 'appropriate' archetypes is affirmed, encouraged, and rewarded. Likewise 'other'- gendered behavior and affinity to archetypes is scolded, punished, or shunned. This teaching process is inherently coercive, as social acceptance/rejection is a powerful force. However it can't be likened to programming, everyone experiences and reacts to it differently. Also, this process teaches the cultural roles and practices of both (normative) genders, even as it attempts to force conformity to only one.

Gender regulates access to certain levers of social power. This one is complicated by the fact that access to levers of social power is also affected by *many* other things, most notably race, class, and citizenship. I am not going to attempt to describe this in any general terms, I'm not equipped for that. I'll give a few examples to explain what I'm talking about though. (1) In a social situation, a man is able to imply authority, which is implicitly backed by his ability to intimidate by yelling, looming, or threatening physical violence. How much authority he is perceived to have in response to this display is a function of his race and class. It is also modified by how strongly he appears to conform to a masculine ideal. Whether or not he will receive social backlash for this behavior (as a separate consideration to how effective it will be) is again a function of race/class/other forms of social standing. (2) In a social situation, a woman is able to invoke moral judgment, and attempt to modify the behavior of others by shame. The strength of her perceived moral authority depends not just on her conformity to ideal womanhood, but especially on if she can invoke certain archetypes - such as an Innocent, a Mother, or better yet a Grandmother. Whether her moral authority is considered a relevant consideration to influence the behavior of others (vs whether she will be belittled or ignored) strongly depends on her relative social standing to those she is addressing, on basis of gender/race/class/other.

[Again, these examples are *not* meant to be exhaustive, nor to pass judgment on employing any social power in any situation. Only to illustrate what "gendered access to social power" might mean. And to illustrate that types of power are not uniform and may play out according to complex factors.]

Gender is not based in physical traits, but physical traits are ascribed gendered value. Earlier, I described gender as practiced, citing almost entirely things a person can do or change. And I firmly believe this is the core of gender as it exists culturally - and not just aspirationally. After the moment when a gender is "assigned" based on infant physical characteristics, they are raised into that gender regardless of the physical traits they go on to develop (in most circumstances, and unless/until they denounce that gender.) The range of physical traits like height, facial shape, body hair, ability to put on muscle mass - is distributed so that there is complete overlap between the range of possible traits for people assigned male and people assigned female. Much is made of slight trends in things that are "more common" for one binary sex or the other, but it's statistically quite minor once you get over selection bias. However, these traits are ascribed gendered connotations, often extremely strongly so. As such, the experience of presented and perceived gender is strongly effected by physical traits. The practice of gender therefore naturally expands to include modification of physical traits. Meanwhile, the social movements to change how gender is constructed can include pushing to decrease or change the gendered association of physical traits - although this does not seem to consistently be a priority.

Gender roles are related to the hypothetical ability to bear children, but more obliquely than is often claimed. It is popular to say that the types of work considered feminine derive from things it is possible to do while pregnant or tending small children. However, research on the broader span of human history does not hold this up. It may be true of the cultures that gave immediate rise to the colonial gender roles we are familiar with - secondary to the fact that childcare was designated as women's work. (Which it does not have to be, even a nursing infant doesn't need to be with the person who feeds it 24 hours a day.) More directly, gender roles have been influenced by structures of social control aiming for reproductive control. In the direct precursors of colonial society, attempts to track paternal lineage led to extreme degrees of social control over women, which we still see reflected in normative gender today. Many struggles for women's liberation have attempted to push back these forms of social control. It is my firm opinion that any attempt to re-emphasize childbearing as a touchstone of womanhood is frankly sick. We are at a time where solidarity in struggle for gender liberation, and for reproductive rights, is crucial. We need to cast off shackles of control in both fights. Trying to tie childbearing back to womanhood hobbles both fights and demeans us all.

Gender is baked deeply enough into our culture that it is unlikely to ever go away. Many people feel strongly about the practice of gender, in one way or another, and would not want it to. However we have the power to change how gender is structured and enforced. We can push open the doors of what is allowable, and reduce the pain of social punishment and isolation. We can dismantle another of the tools of colonial hedgemony and social control. We can change the culture!

[vermiciousyidreborn]

So people keep assuring me that Palestinians are also indigenous to the southern levant and...well, I admit I'm skeptical of this. Like, I'm NOT advocating expelling them or genocide, etc. Those are all bad, just questioning the notion of indigeneity here. Mostly as a consequentialist. If Palestinians are indigenous to the Levant, that seems to imply other things. Let's think through this.

We're going to set aside the UN notion of indigenous because that's crafted to exclude Jews and often enough this is a statement by people who reject that and consider Jews to be indigenous, they're often saying both groups are. So...I guess that means something like "A group is indigenous to the region where they underwent ethnogenesis" so we'll take that as our definition of indigeneity. Jews are indigenous to the Levant, check. We're good. Arabs are indigenous to Arabia. All makes sense.

So, anyway, what's an ethnic group? From Wikipedia:

An ethnicity or ethnic group is a group of people who identify with each other on the basis of perceived shared attributes that distinguish them from other groups. Those attributes can include a people of a common language, culture, common sets of ancestry, traditions, society, religion, history, or social treatment.[

Ok, so common language, culture, traditions, history, etc.

So European American Protestants are indigenous to North America? Common history (going back to the 1600s!), identify as a group, believe they have a common culture (even if we need to break things up more finely, you can find common cultures, say, New England, or Midwest, wee American Nations), common language (English, which I will posit is part of why there's basically a moral panic about Spanish and has been almost my entire life, in much of the country). Note that an ethnicity "can include" and doesn't need ALL of these things.

So it seems pretty solid that European American Protestants are, at the least, a collection of ethnic groups unique to North America. Which means they did ethnogenesis here. Which means they're indigenous now.

So...let's be clear, to me this is a reductio ad absurdam. OF COURSE white US protestants are not indigenous to North America! But I've yet to see definitions that mark Palestinian Arabs as indigenous to the Levant without also implying that white Americans are indigenous to fucking Ohio (along with the rest of the country).

Especially when you consider that white american protestant as an identity in this sense is older than a distinct Palestinian identity. It just brings us to the eternal questions that the Israeli/Palestinian conflict brings up and that people REALLY don't want to discuss:

When, if ever, does indigeneity expire? Personally, I think it doesn't, and Jews are and will always be indigenous to the Levant, just like the Cherokee Nation is indigenous to the US Southeast, even though they've been displaced. Though I know many "Pro-Palestine" activists implicitly believe indigeneity does expire, at least for Jews, but even if I weren't Jewish, I wouldn't want that precedent set because it would fuck over EVERYONE

When does a colonizer become indigenous to the place they colonized? This is rarely discussed, but lies implicitly behind a lot of things. Again, I want to avoid setting bad precedents, but I don't see how Palestinian Arabs can have hit this threshold and white people in the US haven't, which leads me to reject the idea that colonizers can ever become indigenous, at least while holding onto the identity that did the colonization (White and Arab, respectively, hell, White Christian and Arab Muslim if we want to get more specific).

Now, I don't believe colonizers need to be killed or expelled, I'm generally against violence outside of self-defense, but I do think that the rhetoric we use matters, and I want to interrogate it.

[dailyadventureprompts]

Monsters Reimagined: Yeenoghu, Demon Lord of Insatiable Hunger

It's been some years since I did my overhaul on the lore of the gnolls and how they embody the weird de/humanization that goes on with various monsters over d&d's history. Ever since I've had more than a few folks write in asking about how I would handle the default Gnoll God Yeenoghu, who exists in a similar state of "Kill everything that ever existed" to Orcus and a good portion of the game's other late game threats, thematically flat and not really useful for building stories around.

For a while I've avoided doing this post because I thought it might skew a little too close to my personal philosophy, and risk going from simply being influenced by my views to an outright soapbox. I personally hold that despite being part of our nature hunger is the source of the majority of human cruelty, and if society and cooperation are the tools we developed to best fight against the threat of famine, it is fear of that famine that allows the powerful to control society and secure their positions of privilege.

I've also dealt with disordered eating in a prior period of my life, alternating between neglecting my body's needs and punishing myself for needing in the first place. I'm well acquainted with hunger and the hollowing effect it can have, though I'd never claim to know it so well as someone who went hungry by anything other than choice and self hatred.

Learning to love food again saved saved my life. The joy of eating, of feeling whole and nourished, yes, but there was also the joy of making: of experimenting, improving, providing, being connected to a great tradition of cultivation which has guided our entire species.

If I was going to talk about an evil god of hunger, I was going to have to touch on all of that, and now that it's out in the open I can continue with a more thematic and narrative discussion on the beast of butchery below the cut.

What's wrong: Going by the default lore, there's not much that really separates Yeenoghu from any other chaotic evil mega-boss. He wants to kill everything in vicious ways, and encourages his followers to do the same. He's there so that the evil clerics can have someone to pray to because the objectively good gods are on the party's side and wouldn't help a bunch of cannibalistic slavers.

This is boring, we've done this song and dance before, and the only reason that there are so many demon lords/evil gods/archdevils like this is because the bioessentialism baked into the older editions of the game's lore was also a theological essentialism, and that every group had to have their own gods which perfectly embodied their ethos and there was no crossover whatsoever, themes be damned.

Normally I'd do a whole section about "what can be salvaged" from an old concept, but we're scraping the bottom of the barrel right from the inset. Likewise my trick of combining multiple bits of underwritten d&d mythology to make a sturdier concept isn't going to work as most of d&d's other gods of hunger or famine are similar levels of paper thin.

How do we fix it: I want Yeenoghu to be the opposite of the path I found myself on, a hunger so great and so painful that it percludes happiness, cooperation, or even rational thought. Hunger not as a sumptuous hedonistic gluttony but a hollowing emptiness that compels violence and desperation. More than just psychopathic slaughter and gore, it is becalmed sailors drinking seawater to quench their thirst, the urban poor mixing sawdust and plaster into their food because their wages are not enough to afford grain.

This is where we get the idea of Yeenoghu as an enemy of society, not because violence is antithical to society ( I think we've learned by now how structured violence can really be) but because society fundamentally breaks down when it can't take care of the people who provide its foundations. Contrast the Beast of Butchery with one of my other favourite villainous famine spirits: Caracalla the grim trader, who embodies scarcity as a form of profit and control in to Yeenoghu's scarcity as suffering.

Into this we can also add the idea of the hungry dead, ghouls yes but also vampires, anything cursed with an eternal existence and appetites it no longer has the ability to sate. A large number of cultures across the world share the idea that the dead cannot rest while they are starving, which is why we leave offerings of food by their graves or pour out a glass to the ones we lost along the way.

On that topic, there's also a scrap of lore involving Doresain god of ghouls, who has been depicted as an on and off servant of Yeenoghu. Since I'm already remaking the mythology, I'd have Doresain act as a sort of saint or herald for the demon lord, the wicked but still partially reasonable entity who can villain monolog before the feral and all consuming demon god shows up.

Summing it all up: Yeenoghu isn't a demon you wittingly worship, it's a demon that claims you, marks you as its mouthpiece and through you seeks to consume more of the world. It gives you just enough strength to keep on living, keep on suffering, keep on filling that hole in your belly and feed it in turn.

The greatest of these mouthpieces is Doresain, an elf of ancient times who's unearthly hungers elevated him to demigod status. Known as the knawbone king, he dwells within a dread domain of the shadowfell, and is sought out only for his ability to intercede with the maw-fiend's rampages.

Signs: Unnaturally persistent hunger pangs, excessive drool and gurgling stomach noises, the growth of extra teeth in the mouth, stomachs splitting open into mouths.

Symbols: An animal with three jaws, a three tailed flail or spiked whip. A crown of knawed bones (Doresain)

Titles: Beast of butchery, the maw fiend, the knawing god

Artist

[jesncin]

Thinking about Disney and how we talk about Cultural Representation

(concept art by Scott Watanabe)

Old essay originally written on Cohost in November 2023. With additions.

With all the promo stuff about Disney's upcoming animated film Wish, I can't help but think about Raya and the Last Dragon again. I spent a year intensively researching things about that movie and the discourse surrounding it for a series of videos on Xiran Jay Zhao's channel, and oh boy did that reveal a lot about the current way we talk about cultural representation in casual media criticism.

Lately we've grown a habit of looking at signifiers to culture, things like a cultural dish, a nod to a martial arts style, a piece of clothing, maybe a hairstyle, a weapon and so on, and then projecting a bunch of intentions onto the work regardless of authorial intent. I witnessed this a bunch of times in discussions surrounding Raya and the Last Dragon.

You basically get a bunch of 4d chess-style justifications for the lazy implementation of culture in Raya.

random examples cuz there's too many to name:

The movie will do something like make the leaders of the villain nation women, and people immediately assumed it was some kind of bespoke reference to Minangkabau matriarchical society.

the art book of Raya specifically stated that they purposely misplaced things as a stylistic fantasy choice "we could take something that is known and place it in an unexpected location, like coral in the desert and cacti in the snow". But when people saw a water buffalo placed in the desert they assumed it was some super clever environmental story decision.

The movie will tell you it includes things like Borobudur, Angkor wat, Keris, and most people will take their word for it without hesitation. Never mind that Southeast Asians could barely recognize these nods to our culture through how amalgamated the designs are.

(early concept art by Scott Watanabe)

Moving forward, I think we need to talk less about "what" parts of a culture are being represented in these movies, and more about HOW they're being included, we need to ask:

What is this piece of media's relationship with the cultures it represents?

Because Raya and the Last Dragon is not a cultural movie, it's a monolith film pitched and written by white people and a Mexican director with 2 SEA writers added later in production to avoid backlash. Culture serves the purpose of aesthetic set dressing in the film, as opposed to something that informs its themes and characters.

it wasn't even initially pitched as a Southeast Asian movie. The white writers who pitched it were going for a vague East Asian sci fi fantasy story under the working title "Dragon Empire". Southeast Asian culture was an aesthetic change added much later.

This is what happens when a corporation tries to put representational value on a shallow aesthetic. Because of the way Disney constantly marketed Raya as this big authentic cultural film, it primes its audience to read cultural intention in the most benign details. And when we get lost in the details, we lose sight of the bigger picture.

Contextualizing Cultural media criticism

(visual development art by April Liu)

We need to start demanding more context in our analysis. The next time we see a reference to culture in media we consume, take a step back and ask what purpose it serves in the narrative. And most importantly!! What Is Its Relationship With The Culture It Represents? We shouldn't just accept things at face value.

start asking yourself,

through what lens is this cultural dish and its spicy flavors being presented to us? Are the customs surrounding the food being respected?

If martial arts or dance is represented, how is it translated in the adaptation? Are you getting generic hollywood-fu or are you seeing specific movements with purpose and motivation? Are the philosophies or spiritual contexts of these traditions present in the text?

Are the clothing, hairstyles, and presentation of the characters being de-yassified through a colonial filter? Is the non-conformity of the cultures' different framework for gender presentation being adjusted to fit a more recognizable binary?

If language is present, what role does it serve? Is it presented as other through being exclusively used by villainous beings? Is it being made a monolith as one "non-English" language?

is this temple actually a place of worship or is it just a set piece for a goddang Indiana jones booby trap action fight sequence

This way, instead of unquestionably defending a piece of media because a character wore a traditional outfit one time, or because some characters took their shoes off at a temple, or because there were Arnis sticks in that one fight scene, we can approach the text with a more nuanced and holistic understanding of how culture informs narrative.

To quote Haunani K. Trask (author of From A Native Daughter):

“Cultural people have to become political… Our culture can’t just be ornamental and recreational. That’s what Waikiki is. Our culture has to be the core of our resistance. The core of our anger. The core of our mana. That’s what culture is for.”

[metamatar]

But antara you work with computers. Your livelihood isn't dependent on art. People whose livelihood depend on making artwork are saying that this is bad for business. Shouldn't their voice matter here? They aren't imperialists for not wanting corporates to train softwares on their stolen art. And how long till artists contribution are curtailed even more. It is a competitive market. This will jack the competition level upto a thousand + level!

I never called them imperialists. The art is not stolen from them. They still have the original copies. Intellectual property theft is a genuinely meaningless concept. I understand that they're worried, and I have sympathy. But the problem is in their fear they're getting in bed with reactionary forces. That will hurt more than artists, it hurts everyone in the way it makes copyright enforcement more draconian. I highlighted what that looked like in the last reblog of this.

sure, you can standpoint epistemology me into a heartless techbro – but I find this insistence on the special position of artists to be considered for protection from technological forces frankly self invested too. we didn't get this hysteria when grocery store cashiers got replaced by self checkout machines or skilled assembly line workers got replaced by KUKA industrial arms or bookkeepers by accounting software – is it because some workers and their work involve intrinsically more valuable skills than others? if not, shouldn't we ban any technology that can potentially replace a worker? protein folding and drug discovery by AI may save lives, but its taking jobs away from older researchers who did traditional work. should we all burn down washing machines so we can have laundrywomen again? or should we argue for stronger social security and reorganise our society to enjoy reduced working hours when jobs are automated and let people pursue work that they want without market pressures?

[ineffably-human]

We're going to scream about Nandermo all week, but right now I need to talk about Baron Afanas. Because the Baron's arc, so to speak, always felt like a big part of the series DNA for me - and oh fuck did this episode deliver on why.

I think we can agree: in the show, vampire society is fucked up, right?

Vampires on their own have plenty to deal with that can make them crazy. They have to live by killing. They lose everyone from their old lives. They have to find new reasons to keep going on, forever, so shit can get decadent really fast.

But holy shit, what that's turned into in vampire society? Where you actively put cruelty over mercy, and violence over solving your problems? Death cults and scam artists roam free, but if someone has depression the best thing to do is ignore them. Someone can get their mind wiped or be locked up for centuries, and that's just what you do to your species.

--

So: the Baron's arrival is the first conflict of the whole show. The joke is about an ancient powerful creature of pants-shitting terror, vs three lesser vampires who just want to live their lives and not get murdered for being too lazy to conquer humanity. There's a lot of talk about how to please him: do you keep to the old ways, or pick up some new traditions? Decorate with flayed skin, or with glitter? And the Baron says: who cares, you're all soft and useless. All that matters is getting more control over this world, until people are cattle and we have no reason to hide anymore.

But later he confesses: that shit stopped mattering ages ago. He's not even real nobility, he's literally impotent, and he talks about doing horrible things because he doesn't know what else to say. He's angry and half-crazy from boredom. And admitting that, owning those feelings, means suddenly he has three new friends and a whole new world of things to enjoy.

There's the Baron the rest of the vampire world knows, but for one night we see the ancient, unknowable terror was just a guy. Maybe he's always been just some guy.

That fun puts him in a vulnerable position, and he's killed by the most unwitting vampire slayer in fiction. But Baron Afanas is changed. He sucks dirt for a year and still comes out of it with a new lightness and joy to him. He saves the Sire, another ancient terrifying monster everyone was eager to kill or send away. They adopt the hellhound. They get cozy and give advice. They make popsicle stick houses and go on walks. They live.

And that seemed like the end of the story until last night - when the Baron suddenly felt like the butt of a joke everyone knew but him. Spurred on by someone else who feels lonely and ignored, the Baron felt vulnerable. And he snapped back to how he lived for centuries.

'What the hell are you all doing, enjoying yourselves? We're supposed to be unhappy. We're supposed to live centuries of unhappiness, bringing pain to everyone in our path, and we're definitely not supposed to cheer up our friend who's sad.'

--

Nobody liked the Baron before Guillermo killed him, not even other powerful vampires we meet; they saw the Baron as a crazy far beyond their own crazy. But this is also how vampire society values you. It's how they measure Nandor's worth when they think he's dead, too: how old and powerful you are, how much you've been able to conquer and kill.

Vampire pods are both cliquish and aren't expected to last in the first place. If someone dies, you literally paint them out of your lives and forget. Everything we see discourages feelings, sincerity, or even basic companionship. The only way to earn respect is to be cruel. The more cruel you are, the more powerful you are. The more powerful you are, the more feared you are - the lonelier you are, the crazier you are. It's practically designed to create the Baron, or worse.

But new vampires don't behave that way. And the vampires we follow in the show don't behave that way - because they have each other, because they've been encouraged to have each other, often by Guillermo. (Holy shit, Nadja saying maybe she'd be fine dying, and Nandor immediately asking if she's okay? Nothing changes in this house, except everything does. They're not going to almost lose one of their own ever again.)

The vampires in the heart of vampire culture never seem happy to be like this. It doesn't have to be like this.

--

The Baron doesn't become a tyrannical monster for long. Because he never actually was one - and because he spends two evenings and a fireball to the face, watching Nandor and Nadja fight for Guillermo. Watching them plead and cling and defy, seeing Guillermo's earnest feelings in spite of his bloodline and the mistakes he's made. Seeing Nandor's perfect trust, and then his grief, the way he insists that Guillermo was never 'just' anything. The Baron can't find real fulfillment in hurting someone (because that ship sailed ages ago). He can't deride them for caring, because he's cared for a long time now.

And when the Baron admits that's who he is, when he says it out loud, he only gains more in his life. He finds new depth in the happiness he'd felt for a while now, because he's admitted and allowed himself to be happy. And now he has the children he's always wanted. Living together, the Baron and the Sire are still ancient and powerful - and they're also family, finding real joy together in a world that was ready to dispose of them.

"I suppose with the right company, it can be beautiful, this eternal existence."

--

There's an inherent selfishness to being a vampire, taking from someone else in order to live. But there doesn't have to be inherent cruelty, or lack of love.

They're all ready to admit they care. The Staten vampires have all cared for Guillermo or each other in their own ways this season. And Guillermo doesn't lack for flaws, but loving his monster family has never been one of them. (When he and Nandor work their shit out, they're gonna be insufferable.)

Now they just have to let the Guide in. Because she's absolutely starved for love, and vampires get pretty fucked up when they're on their own.

[writingwithfolklore]

Writing Fictional News

              Eee this is one of my biggest pet peeves in movies, games, stories, anything… As someone who reads and edits a lot of news articles for my job, I can tell soo instantly when fictional news articles or broadcasts were written by someone who has never written news before. I’m constantly saying, “hmm, they’d never publish that.”

              So here’s what you gotta know about writing (fictional) news stories.

1. They’re to the point… but not like that

This is the biggest thing I see in fiction that has news in it. People tend to write headlines that have the worst, gory details. For example,

“Student Sadie Walker murdered by 50 stabbings last night.”

While dramatic (and informative), I don’t see this as a news headline. The same situation (Sorry Sadie) may actually be reported as,

“Young woman passed away after involvement in stabbing late last night.”

              While news articles are to the point and informative, remember that they’re written for the general public. We often don’t get the super gory details (at least, not in the headline).

2. They have a pretty specific voice

While most journalism is meant to be free of bias, news is the most importantly objective. This tends to result in articles written in a more formal tone. They also follow a structure: the most specific details to the most general.

              Imagine you’re writing a piece that you’re expecting the reader to drop out at any moment. The headline is the attention grabber so your first line has the most important details of the story, so that someone can read it and know the jist.

Following our example, the first paragraph might be,

“Last night in June County a young woman was found unconscious, having suffered severe injuries. The woman was identified as Sadie Walker, a 21-year-old student attending June County University nearby. According to police reports, Walker had been walking between campus and the student dorms around midnight when she was struck and stabbed 30-50 times in the chest and back. Walker was found by a peer returning home an estimated hour after the attack and taken straight to Red Mill General hospital, where she passed away shortly after. The perpetrator is still unknown at this time.”

       Remember the 5 W’s and 1 H. Your first few lines should inform the reader of Who, What happened, Where did it happen, When did it happen, how it happened, and maybe why if you know—though since news is so timely, often the answer isn’t known right away.

3. Where the article is found in the news is telling

While a story like our example might make the front page of the paper (especially if nothing else is really going on in June County), only one story can make this top spot. Some papers are divided between the top and bottom of the page, known as “above the fold” and “below the fold”. It’s a bit more traditional format, but the ‘above the fold’ spot is the best one, because that’s the story people see when they’re passing by the newsstand, while ‘below the fold’ is another important story making the front page, but one would have to pick up the paper and unfold it to read it.

Not to mention all the stories found inside the paper. Consider how important your article is--not to your characters/plot, but to the general society your fictional newspaper is serving. Would your MC’s win at the local dog competition make the front page of big city news?

Any other news writers on here? What did I miss?

[lucysarah-c]

Following your answer on homosexuality in AoT, how would sexism in AoT be handled on both sides of the spectrum, female and male, on Paradis and in Marley?

Hi, dear! How are you?

Ah, that's such a good question. You know, I did a post about it a LONG time ago, but it’s a topic I touch on a lot in my fics and here from time to time.

I'll set the context of my reply with three ideas. First, sexism or misogyny ALWAYS exists. It exists in our society like oxygen does. In many countries, it’s not the same sexism as in the 1800s, but it still exists. Second, the Scouts PER SE are the "wokes" of their time; they don't have the same views, lives, and beliefs as regular people inside the walls. So I always think that the Scouts are a bit of an "exception" from the rest of Paradis.

Third, and I state this because my blog is Levi-centered, Levi is ALREADY a person, and in particular, a man, with a very different and unique upbringing. I DO believe that Levi has a more "modern" or "woke" view on "women," "women's rights," and "house chores" than the rest of the men. I'll simply say this: a man who saw his mother being treated like garbage because she worked as a prostitute, a man who had to raise himself, and a man who RAISED a girl out of pure heart. I hardly think he judges women on how they dress, who they sleep with, or thinks that "a man shouldn't cook or clean/take care of the kids." So Levi is kind of an exception for me. This doesn't mean he doesn't have internalized misogyny or "micro-sexism" (which I'll talk about later).

Overall, despite both societies allowing "women" in the military, I don't think their views on women or men's roles are much different. I believe there are a few clear examples of this in the manga. If my memory serves me correctly (and take this with a grain of salt because I know that Isayama gave multiple interviews, and a lot of them were edited), he said on one occasion that the Scouts were different because usually, everybody helps with all the chores, like cooking, cleaning, etc., because they work more united and as a family than the rest of the military divisions. Second, he said in one interview right after the manga ended that when he draws "military boards or higher ranks," he always keeps in mind not to add women because they aren't allowed.

Other scenes that quickly come to mind that make me think that Paradis (and I'll speak mostly of Paradis because we don't see much of Marley as a society) is a very sexist society with traditional views:

Most of the time, when we are shown military members from the Garrison OR the MPs, they are mostly men.

Which women are shown that are "recalled" from the Garrison? Riko and Anka… What role does Anka have? Being a secretary for Pixis, more or less, a very stereotypical role for a woman.

A very memorable woman from the MPs is Hitch, and there's a scene where it's clearly said that "there's only one way a woman like Hitch can get into the MPs," basically stating that she made sexual favors to get into that position.

Not a single scene from the military board or higher-up positions shows a single woman.

All the mothers of the characters shown in the story are "housewives" or "stay-at-home moms," which is absolutely fine if a woman decides to dedicate her time to her family as long as it’s a decision she made and not because she didn’t have "other options." Even Eren's mother, Carla, is shown to work as a waitress before she became a mother and a housewife.

All this makes me conclude that probably women inside the military never reach far, either because they aren't allowed (men are preferred over them, offered better positions, promoted first) or because once they get married, they are expected to become stay-at-home wives. I can clearly imagine people thinking that if you get promoted as a woman, it's because you're sleeping with your boss, or if you haven't gotten married and had kids at a certain age, "you're wasting your time" or "a woman's role is to be a mom; they only feel fulfilled like that."

This creates a power dynamic: women are expected to be wives; therefore, men are expected to be the main providers. And this is something I can see men, particularly Levi, being affected by. In my fic, I wrote once that Levi gets very offended when the reader invites or pays for him because she comes from a wealthy family. For Levi, as internalized misogyny, HIS role as a man is to provide. What kind of man is he if he's not paying? Especially for the Scouts' men, it's said that the Scouts have the lowest salaries in the military. If they can't provide, their chances of getting married are probably low. Even today, a lot of men get sensitive or offended if their wives make more money than them. Or men get irrationally jealous and butthurt if their women are more successful than them.

Another way men might get the sour end is in terms of emotional availability. While women's harsh reality is known, men's struggles often aren't. For example (one from Marley), Reiner's mother suffers a lot of social prejudice because she had a kid out of wedlock, and her only "salvation" is that Reiner becomes a warrior. Even today, men struggle with being emotionally available and having more feelings than just "lust and anger." I can totally see men all over the AoT world having to be these "very tough" guys who are only allowed to be "human" when they are alone with "their girl/wife." This happened a lot after WWI; men were sent back home with horrible memories of war and society expected them to just "toughen up and be men." Go, work, and provide for your family; and if you're suffering from everything you lived, then learn to be a man.

It's like I can literally imagine Erwin perhaps complaining that he's having a hard time, and Zackly or any other dude would be like, "You know what you need? A wife; she will take care of the rest."

"I don't have time to dedicate."

"Doesn't matter, a good wife always understands."

"… my salary isn't that good."

"Oh well, you know it's never too late for you to change divisions and settle down." pat on the back lmao end of the advice, and Erwin has the same emotional stress as before.

Overall, I think their views are probably as traditional as they were only a couple of years ago. This is completely ignorable for the sake of fanfiction and having fun; not every piece you write has to send a message or be political. But if you ask me how I think canon AoT characters are, I believe a good part of them, if not most, would be very traditional.

Hope this helps! I tried to cover everything I could remember while being as concise as possible. Thank you so much for your question!

Lots of love!

[pianokantzart]

My Theory on Pachacamac and The Iblis Trigger

There is talk about how much they changed Pachacamac from a warmongering, power hungry tribal leader, to a goofy grandpa figure, but I think the truth of Pachacamac's nature might be somewhere between the two interpretations. Despite his friendliness, you can't forget he did lead a clan that wiped out the owls with a singleminded focus on capturing Sonic and reclaiming The Master Emerald. Pachacamac, now a ghost, has visited Knuckles to tell him he needs to expand his tribe. There are no other echidnas left, so he asks the sole survivor to take on an apprentice. "Show him our customs, teach him our traditions, and soon our tribe will grow once again."

There is no acceptance or acknowledgement of the fact that the clan's current situation is the result of a bloody feud and the destruction of an entire race besides their own. There is also, unsettlingly, no acknowledgement of Tails, Sonic, or The Wachowskis as members of Knuckles' clan.

While there are questionable elements to Pachacamac's approach, his motivations are at least understandable. Knuckles is a minority– the last of his tribe and the only surviving member of his species, so of course his old chief wants to see their traditions and culture preserved.

Things only get really weird when Pachacamac takes hold of Wade– Knuckles' apprentice and the soon-to-be new addition to their clan–and rewrites history. Rather than the tale of a lone owl that the echidnas hunted down in a quest for power, the story is instead of an entire flock of owls that were the aggressors, killing off Knuckles' tribe and burning down his village for no reason other than for the sake of the slaughter.

Similarly, Knuckles isn't described as a lost child left behind, but a fellow warrior who battled alongside his father until the bitter end.

So, knowing that Pachacamac's version of events is wrought with lies leads to one very serious question: What is the true story of Knuckles' battle with Iblis? If there's one thing we know about The Echidna Clan, it's that they are fixated on raw power. They're a warrior-focused society where the best fighter gets the highest honor and the most privileges. They were the ones who crafted The Master Emerald from the seven chaos emeralds. They were the ones who tracked down Sonic when he was a child with the intention of obtaining his power, before Long Claw wiped them out in her final struggle.

And who else do we know that was accidentally unleashed in a reckless pursuit of power?

Iblis, the raw power of the sun god Solaris. Iblis, who was sealed away within a child using the power of the chaos emeralds.

Now, there's no doubt that "The Flames of Disaster" in the SCU are very different from "The Flames of Disaster" in Sonic 06. In the movie universe the flames are merely a type of wieldable power rather than the name of an apocalyptic event. However... what better way to rewrite the fact that the echidna tribe nearly caused the end of the world and locked an immortal fire demon within an echidna child, than by pretending that The Flames of Disaster is just an inherent ability Knuckles unlocked through an epic battle?

What if "The Flames of Disaster" wasn't a power he obtained through a magnificent fight, but a power he survived after it was thrusted upon him by his elders? ... What if one of the many, many reasons reasons his father didn't let him join the fight was out of fear of what would happen if he cried?

[writingwithcolor]

[Running Commentary] Zombies are Zombies: Cultural Relativism, Folklore, and Foreign Perspectives

She obviously started getting into media in Japan, and (from my research into Japanese media and culture), Japan’s movies about zombies are mostly comedic, since due to traditional funerary practices the idea of zombies bringing down society is ridiculous to a lot of Japanese people. 

Rina: OP, this you? https://www.tofugu.com/japan/japanese-zombies/

Marika: Counterpoint: Parasite Eve. Resident Evil. The Evil Within. 

Rina: Literally all the grody horror game franchises that people forget were developed and written by Japanese people because the characters have names like “Leon Kennedy” and “Sebastian Castellanos” 

~ ~ ~

Based on the reception we received the last time we did one of these, the Japanese moderator team returns with another running commentary. (They’re easier to answer this way) (Several of Marika’s answers may be troll answers)

Our question today pertains to foreign perspectives on folklore—that is, how people view folklore and stories that aren’t a part of their culture. CW: for anything you’d associate with zombies and a zombie apocalypse, really.

Keep reading for necromancy, horror games, debunking the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, Hong Kong jiangshi films, Japanese disaster prep videos, and Vietnamese idol pop...

Essentially, in my story there’s an organization who wants to end the world. They think this one woman in particular, a woman of mixed Vietnamese (irreligious, Kinh) and Japanese descent who spent her formative years in Japan, is the person to do it because she’s (for lack of a better term) a necromancer; powers are semi-normal in this world. She prefers not to use her powers overall, but when she does she mostly talks to ghosts and spirits that are giving people issues. She could technically reanimate a corpse but she wouldn’t because she feels that would be morally wrong, not to mention she couldn’t start a zombie apocalypse in the traditional sense (plague, virus, etc.) in the first place. 

(Marika (M): Your local public health officials would like to assure necromancers that reviving the dead will not provoke a zombie apocalypse. This is because necromancy is a reanimation technique, and not a pathogenic vector. Assuming that the technique does not release spores, airborne viruses, gasses, or other related physical matter that can affect neighboring corpses in a similar way, there should be no issue. However, necromancers should comply with local regulations w/r to permitting and only raise the dead with the approval of the local municipality and surviving family.)

M: I think it makes sense for most people of E. Asian descent, including Japanese and Vietnamese people, to find it culturally reprehensible to reanimate the dead. I imagine the religious background of your character matters as well. What religion(s) are her family members from? How do they each regard death and the treatment of human remains? Depending on where she grew up, I’m curious on how she got opportunities to practice outside specialized settings like morgues.

M: It’s true, space in Japan is at a premium, even for the dead. You note that most of Japan cremates, but, surely, it must have occurred to you that if there aren’t that many bodies in Japan to raise…she doesn’t exactly have much opportunity to practice with her powers, does she? I yield to our Vietnamese followers on funerary customs in Vietnam, but you may want to better flesh out your world-building logic on how necromancy operates in your story (And maybe distinguish between necromancy v. channeling v. summoning v. exorcisms). 

She obviously started getting into media in Japan, and (from my research into Japanese media and culture), Japan’s movies about zombies are mostly comedic, since due to traditional funerary practices the idea of zombies bringing down society is ridiculous to a lot of Japanese people. 

Rina (R): OP, this you? https://www.tofugu.com/japan/japanese-zombies/

M: Counterpoint: Parasite Eve. Resident Evil. The Evil Within. 

R: Literally all the grody horror game franchises that people forget were developed and written by Japanese people because the characters have names like “Leon Kennedy” and “Sebastian Castellanos” 

R: And yes, the Tofugu article uses Resident Evil and those games to support its theory, with the reason that they are set in the West. But that only suggests that Japanese people consider zombies a Western thing, not that Japanese people consider zombies nonthreatening if they were to exist. 

M: Same with vampires - series like Castlevania also use Western/ European settings and not “Vampires in Japan '' because vampires just aren't part of our folklore.

(M: Also, realistically, these series deal with individuals who quickly perish after their bodies are used as hosts for the pathogen in question, rather than the pathogen reanimating a corpse. Although the victims are initially alive, they soon succumb to the pathogen/ parasite and their organic matter then becomes an infectious vector for the disease. It should be noted, infecting ordinary, living humans with viruses to grant them elevated powers, is not only a major violation of consent and defies all recommendations made by the Belmont Report (in addition to a number of articles in the Hague Convention w/r to the use of WMDs) and is unlikely to be approved by any reputable university’s IRB committee. This is why the Umbrella Corporation are naughty, naughty little children, and honestly, someone should have assassinated Wesker for the grant money.)

R: wwww

From what I know Vietnam didn’t have a zombie movie until 2022. 

R: Do you mean a domestically produced zombie movie? Because Vietnamese people have most certainly had access to zombie movies for a long time. The Hong Kong film Mr. Vampire (1985) was a gigantic hit in Southeast Asia; you can find a gazillion copies of this movie online with Viet subs, with people commenting on how nostalgic this movie is or how they loved it as a kid. 

M: “Didn’t have a [domestic] zombie movie” is not necessarily the same thing as “Would not have made one if the opportunity had arisen.” None of us here are personifications of the Vietnamese film industry, I think it’s safe to say we couldn’t know. Correlation is not causation. It’s important to do your research thoroughly, and not use minor facts to craft a narrative based on your own assumptions.

(R: …Also, I did find a 2017 music video for “Game Over” by the Vietnamese idol Thanh Duy which features… a zombie apocalypse.)

(R: The MV has a very campy horror aesthetic and zombie backup dancers (which I love, everyone please watch this lol). But the scenes at the beginning and end where people are biting their fingers watching a threatening news report clearly establish that the zombies are considered a threat.)

So at one point, she laughs about the idea and remarks how ridiculous it is to think zombies could end the world. What I’m struggling with are other ways to show her attitude on the issue because I’d assume most non-Japanese readers wouldn’t get why she thinks like that. Are there any other ways to show why she thinks this way, especially ones that might resonate more with a Japanese reader?

R: The problem is this does not resonate in the first place. Your line of thinking is too Sapir-Whorf-adjacent. The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis, otherwise known as linguistic relativity theory, claims that language shapes cognition—that you can’t conceive of something if you can’t express it in your language. This is a very weak theory that you can easily bring evidence against: think of the last time you felt an emotion you had a hard time putting into words; just because you didn’t have the language for it doesn’t mean that you didn’t feel it, nor does it mean that you won’t be able to understand or recognize it if you feel it again. Similarly, it’s not a sound assumption to say that if some kind of subject matter does not exist in a culture, then people of that culture couldn't possibly conceive of it. This excerpt from linguist Laura Bailey sums it up quite well. 

M: Just because ghosts may be more culturally relevant doesn’t mean that zombies (or vampires, or whatever) are nonexistent in a Japanese or Vietnamese person’s imagination when it comes to horror and disaster.

R: Really,  if anything, Japanese people are much more attuned to how easily a society’s infrastructure can be destroyed by a disruptive force without adequate preparation. Japan is natural disaster central. A Japanese person would know better than anyone that if you aren’t prepared for a zombie epidemic—yeah it’s gonna be bad. 

M: Earthquakes, tsunami, typhoon, floods: Japan has robust disaster infrastructure out of necessity. 防災 or bousai, meaning disaster preparedness is a common part of daily life, including drills at workplaces, schools, and community organizations. Local government and community agencies are always looking for ways to make disaster and pandemic preparedness relevant to the public.

M: Might “zombie apocalypse prep as a proxy for disaster prep” be humorous in an ironic, self-deprecating way? Sure, but it’s not like Japanese people are innately different from non-Japanese people. Rather, by being a relatively well-off country practiced at disaster preparation with more experience than most parts of the world with many different types of disasters (and the accompanying infrastructure), it likely would seem more odd to most Japanese people within Japan to not handle a zombie apocalypse rather like might one handle a combination of a WMD/ chemical disaster+pandemic+civil unrest (all of which at least some part of Japan has experienced). Enjoy this very long, slightly dry video on COVID-19 safety procedures and preparedness using the framing device of surviving a zombie apocalypse.

M: Living in Los Angeles, I’ve often experienced similar tactics. We do a fair amount of advance and rehearsed disaster prep here as well. In elementary school, the first and last days of class were always for packing and unpacking home-made disaster packs, and “zombie apocalypse” simulations have been around since I was in middle school for all kinds of drills, including active shooter drills, like the one shown in this LAT article. The line between “prepper” and “well prepared” really comes down to degree of anxiety and zeal. So, it wouldn’t be just Japanese people who might not be able to resonate with your scene. The same could be said for anyone who lives somewhere with a robust disaster prevention culture.

M: A zombie apocalypse is not “real” in the sense of being a tangible threat that the majority of the world lives in fear of waking up to (At least, for the mental health of most people, I hope so). Rather, zombie apocalypse narratives are compelling to people because of the feelings of vague, existential dread they provoke: of isolation, paranoia, dwindling resources, and a definite end to everything familiar. I encourage you to stop thinking of the way Japanese people and non-Japanese people think about vague, existential dread as incomprehensible to each other. What would you think about zombies if they actually had a chance of existing in your world? That’s probably how most Japanese people would feel about them, too.

[tabootoji]

"LOVE IT WHEN HE HIT AND SMACK TOO"

TRAINING DAY - PART 3 OF SELFISH DESIRES ← pt. 2

✰ - SYNOPSIS: it's time for you to advance your skills as a curse user if you hope to remain by suguru's side, and who else better to train you than the worst one of all time? (or) you and suguru get down and dirty in the middle of a yoga session. ✰ - WC: 2.8k ✰ - TAGS: reader is female, short, black and curvy, semi public, obsession/possessive, size diff., nipple play, dry humping, groping, pussy slapping, cunnilingus, v. intercourse, dirty talk, praise, belly press, f. orgasm, creampie, no use of (y/n), all lower case ✰ - A/N: our reader is finally going through her training arc! (kinda :P) so ofc i used the opportunity to feed my imagination with the idea of geto in a compression shirt hehe (which was kinda inspired by this). also i put in a really small gojo mention, i was debating on whether i should in this story or not, but since i did say i'm sorta following canon events it just made sense to. anyways, we have one part left, so i hope y'all like how the story's been going so far!

since the 'incident' with manami, suguru has been carrying himself around the sacred temple with an extra pep in his step. and why wouldn't he? the amount of followers coming to the temple seems to have doubled, maybe even tripled in a short amount of time - which meant more curses to add to his arsenal. the wealthy contributions to their organization have also skyrocketed, granting everyone in the shrine a life of comfortability. above all, suguru was able to walk with his head held high knowing that now, all had graciously accepted your position as his one and only beloved, staying right by his side where you belonged.

however, there was an elephant in the room that he had yet to address: training you. suguru's group consisted of strong, sharp-witted shamans who stood ready to follow his every command. and although he had no intentions of ever putting you in a situation where your life would be in danger, he needed to know that if there was ever a time he or the other curse users couldn't protect you, you'd be able to defend yourself. he also hoped that coaching you would in turn boost your confidence in your own skill and abilities, putting you amongst the ranks of your peers.

suguru made up his mind that at least once a week, he would clear a part of his schedule to physically train you, as well as guide you to perfect your cursed technique. you were hesitant to the idea at first, but after much coaxing, you agreed as long as he promised he would start off teaching you slowly. so today, he stands in the center of the traditional garden behind the sanctuary with yoga mats sprawled on the freshly trimmed lawn, waiting for you to join him so he could start you off with the basics.

suguru decided to forgo his usual long, flowing garments for a more casual look. he donned a compression shirt that fit tightly around his athletic torso, loose sweatpants that hung off of his defined waist, and opted to stay barefooted with nothing on his feet. it was a sunny afternoon, and the clear blue skies accompanying the warm sun that casted a radiant glow over the magnificent oasis gave the fake buddhist priest much to think about as he awaited your arrival.

he thought of the irony of him currently adapting a teaching role in his current position, a role he so desperately tried to run away from when he abandoned jujutsu society. he was sure his former best friend from a period so long ago it felt like it happened in a different lifetime would laugh at him if he saw him right now. suguru closed his eyes as favorable memories of his youth flashed in inconsistent intervals in his mind that the dreadful ones had yet to cloud before he was interrupted by a familiar soft, melodic voice calling his name.

opening them, suguru instantly felt a pleasant tranquility wash over him at the sight of you. sporting a gym top with yoga pants, you stood with a beaming smile on your face, head slightly tilted as you asked if he was alright. he chuckled to himself, shaking his head and dispelling your worries by bending down to your height to peck your forehead. when the troubles of his past barred their ugly fangs, of course he knew he would be fine, as long as he could gaze at you, his future.

you feel your cheeks heat up, very sure that your face was covered in a red blush at not just suguru's affectionate gesture, but by how hunky he looked in his current attire. you don't usually get the chance to see him in anything else besides his robes, so you quickly take a mental image of how his massive arms seemed so close to ripping through the elasticity of his shirt, and how his structured v-line and sexy happy trail peeked out of the band of his sweats.

once you and suguru decide that you're ready to start, you both sit beside each other on one of the yoga mat's cross legged, and begin to meditate. pushing a curly strand of hair that fell out of your styled high bun behind your ear, you try to listen to his prompts to close your eyes, focus on your breathing and rid your mind and body of any anxiety you're feeling.

contradicting his own teachings, suguru takes the opportunity to eye you from top to bottom suggestively. your cropped sports tank top had a slight dip in the neckline that gave him a glimpse of your deep cleavage. and because of how the top was tied behind you, your ample breasts were pushed up, threatening to spill out if you made one wrong move (which suguru was indeed hoping for). and don't get him started on your damn yoga pants. the sheer, tight fitted garment not only hugged your delectable curves in just the right way, your rich skin was visible behind them. suguru's cock twitched at the idea of how easy it would be to rip them right off of you.

but alas, he had to stay focused. after he deemed that you were relaxed enough to move on to stretches, suguru instructed you into the first position. as you lay on your back with your arms flat on the mat, he kneeled in front of you, telling you to bend your knees and lift your pelvic region off of the ground. however, after a couple of seconds your legs begin to shake, already threatening to falter your current pose. when suguru holds your hips firmly in place with his hands on either side of you, your eyes shoot up at the thunderbolt of dopamine rushing through your veins you feel every time the two of you touch. teasingly, he smirks at you. "looks like ya gonna need some help, little one. mind if i assist ya?"

if you thought your face was red before, you were certain you resembled a tomato as you nodded your head slowly, nervously accepting suguru's offer. you've barely had to go through any physical endurance throughout the span of your life, so all of this was fairly new to you. you were already doubting how you were going to perform, now you've advanced to worried at the idea of the well built, good looking man before you grazing your body through it. get your mind out of the gutter and focus, you thought to yourself.

however, this would prove to be especially hard during the next position suguru aids you with. with your back still on the floor, he grasps the back of one of your thick thighs and holds it as far as it can comfortably go, which wasn't much without any force being applied. to your surprise, he situates his groin in between your legs, places your foot onto his broad shoulder, and slowly leans towards your face to deepen the stretch. your size difference is apparent now more than ever as his tall frame hovers over your short one. you're now unsure if your perspiration is due to the hot sun or the sexual implications of this yoga pose.

suguru thanks himself for his choice of outfit, knowing his growing hard on would be embarrassingly apparent right now if not for his baggy pants. though the more you both continued these sensual stretches, the less interest he had in modesty, wanting his sinful thoughts to be known by you. "ya doin' alright baby?" he asks jestfully. suguru watches you bite your lip bashfully at the pet name, humming your confirmation. cute. so, so, cute.

you move on to model your best child's pose, suguru behind you almost passing out looking at you. with the way your knotted shirt twists behind you, he was able to admire the curve of your lower back and the matter in which it dipped in the center. when he tells you to progress into a cat pose, suguru doesn't even give you time to go into the paralleled cow's position, becoming enthralled by your mesmerizing arch and proceeding to grab your waist to push your bottom against his lap.

you gasp in surprise, looking behind at suguru as he slots his covered, rock hard boner in between your clothed pussy lips. wordlessly, he begins to fondle your body, groping the fat of your gut and ass, before reaching beneath your tight top to palm your huge tits, pulling and twisting your taut nipples with his rough fingers mercilessly.

at the sudden, yet thrilling stimulation, you compulsively mewl out his name, grinding your butt against his bugle, and it awakens something inside of him. in the blink of an eye suguru's previous thoughts become reality as he uses his powerful strength to rip open the stemming of your leggings to expose your crotch to him. to his disappointment, the fabric of your cotton underwear stands in the way of his pot of gold. at the speed of lighting he gives your nether regions a sudden 'smack', causing you to squeal at the sensation of pain and pleasure becoming one. "panties? really girl? y'know better than that." he reprimands you.

before you get the chance to explain that you wore them for the sake of the training, never in your wildest dreams being able to predict that the two of you would end up doing this in the middle of it, he slides the flimsy fabric to the side to reveal your already leaking pussy. watching your tightly rimmed hole pulse with anticipation only doubles his insatiable craving to taste you, so without hesitation suguru bends down till he's eye level with your cunt, sticks the wet mass of his tongue out, and licks a long stripe up your quivering genitals.

his eyes roll to the back of his head as he savors your succulent nectar. suctioning his moist lips, suguru sucks up your wetness that dribbles into his awaiting mouth in quick successions. you suddenly become all too aware that you're right at the center of the facilities public garden where the gardeners, servants, any resident of the building could stroll through and witness both of your current indiscretions. but the way suguru flicks your sensitive clit with his flat pink tongue is just too good for you to care right now.

your knees buckle and your trembling voice begins to increase in pitch as suguru continues to messily eat your pussy from the back. you could have confused him for a famished man in the middle of the desert with the way he was slurping your sopping cunt. and if that wasn't enough, he began to prod the muscular organ deep into your delicate flower, as if he was trying to reach the barricades of your soul with just his mouth alone. and every time you tried to squirm away from his passionate lapping's, he would bury his face till his nose nuzzled into your vagina, lolling out his tongue to swipe your bundle of nerves from side to side.

just when you're on the brink of cumming all over his face, suguru retracts from your pussy, panting so loudly you could feel his cool, minty breath tickling you. you huff out in frustration from not receiving the spine tingling orgasm you were anticipating, pouting angrily at him. he plants a parting kiss to your cunt, then leans forward to mutter in your ear four words that make you immediately forget why you were frowning your face in the first place.

"i need you. now."

shame almost overtakes you as you drawl out an eager chant of yeses, but that quickly disappears when suguru rushes to pull his leisurely pants down to the top of his knees, swiftly springing out his now enraged cock before taking it in his hands and thrusting it against your womanhood. collecting all of your excitement onto his thick length, he slides it into your tense awaiting walls.

you both groan in satisfaction as suguru fills you up to the brim with almost no resistance. he almost can't believe he was able to, considering how tight of a fit it is whenever he pushes himself into you the first time. either he's finally fucked you enough for your gummy canals to become his personal fleshlight, or the stretching you did beforehand must have really did its job and relaxed you.

and although the two may be true, he's currently attributing your new flexibility to the later. now that you're warmed up from your previous light workout, you're able to angle your rear side till the front of your torso is pressed onto the yoga mat. looking at you grip the sharp blades of grass with your hands till you're almost pulling them out of the ground, further entices suguru to draw his hips back, before railing his desperate cock back into you.

you and suguru set a ferocious pace, him using brute force to barrel his veiny dick into your sex while you match his thrusts, throwing your curvaceous body back as he drives forward. both of your risqué behavior contradicts the peaceful atmosphere of the beautiful garden surrounding the two of you. the soothing pour of the fountains, the unique chirps of the foreign birds that home the piece of land, and the gorgeous flowers in bloom juxtapose the slapping sounds of your ass cheeks hastily colliding with suguru's thighs, your squelching pussy wrapping around his large membrane with a vicious gripe, and your conjoined wails as he continues to defile you.

you realize you may be just as lecherous as he is as your indecorous spectacle shockingly exhilarates you the more you both achieve your desirous commands of one another.

your jaw slacks open when suguru repeatedly lurches his round cockhead to bump against your tender womb. "su-sugu...right there, right there!" you encourage him. he digs his fingers into your luscious lumps to allow himself to delve even further inside your numbing cunt than you thought humanly possible. "ya like that princess? huh? my dainty toy wants it rough? right here?" he finishes his sentence by pressing his sizable hand against your chubby stomach to feel the point of intrusion.

his filthy words are the final nail in the coffin, consequently imploding your snug cunt as flows of your secretion burst around the girth of suguru's unrelenting cock. you're on cloud nine, your entire body falling slack as you allow him to use it for his own lustful volition. "look so good takin' me, fuck, gonna ruin ya baby girl...agh! cumming...m' cumming, here it comes...!" he grits his teeth in anguish, feeling your pussy cruelly squeeze the life out of him, leaving him dizzy. the steadfast movement of his hips finally stutters as he spurts his heavy load into your belly.

he lunches forward after experiencing his sweet rapture, both of you breathless from your endeavors. while your consciousness slowly comes back to earth, suguru takes the opportunity to pull his weighty shaft out of you. he quickly repositions your underwear back on, the semen pouring out of your abused cunt quickly dampening it. you scrunch your nose at the wetness pooling in your undergarments, kneeling up with suguru and bashfully looking at the aftermath of your robust sex.

suguru has to hold in his laugh by giving the top of your head another long kiss. how fast you switched from a crazed vixen back to his angelic, coy girl was so adorable. "i think that's enough training for the day, don't you think little one?" he asks jokingly, helping you both to your feet while you giggle at him. he will have to make sure that starting next week, you both begin taking your lessons more seriously. starting off by making sure you don't wear anymore revealing outfits, unless you wanted to get your bones jumped again.

"agreed, i think i'm definitely in need of a shower after our...exercise." you chuckled. but before you take a step towards the entrance of the monastery, you glance down at your pants, quickly realizing its tattered state. you look up at him in alarm. "suguru...i can't walk around the sanctuary like this." without another word he pulls his own top off, helping you put it over your head so it covers your bare regions.

suguru now stands before you shirtless, sweat glistening off of his beautiful skin. you ogle at him like it's the first time you've seen him naked, because how could you not? it was as if the man's abdominals were carved by the gods themselves. you have to take a strained gulp to keep yourself from literally drooling before you take his hand to hold in yours possessively. "will you...join me.?" you ask him.

momentarily stunned by your request, he quickly recovers and lets a mischievous grin form on the sides of his face. "thought you'd never ask darling." he whispers in your ear provocatively, walking with you hand in hand into the premises. suguru wouldn't worry too much about skipping your training for today, because he was going to have plenty of time to build your endurance and stamina.

[alexthebordercollie]

Soooo I made thing. I will probably redraw this in the cannon style in the future. As for my own personal style for drawing GF stuff, I'm still fleshing it out. But I have another AU now. My Hand of God AU has Ford committing to Bill and spending years trapped in a very abusive relationship, also the apocalypse so that's fun. This one's the complete opposite direction. Ford and Fidds accidentally come into possession of a pair of twins, these boys end up being the motivation it took for Ford to cut things off with Bill and do whatever it takes to keep him from ever getting out.

(I've yet to flesh out exactly how these two were born but the boys were created through anomalous means.)

On the left is Nik (Nikola) An adrenalin junkie who loves adventure and is an absolute menace to society as is the Pines tradition. On the right is Newt (Newton), a pastel-loving soft boy who will cry if you tell him pink is a girl color and gets overly attached to every weird critter Ford brings home.

Nick is missing a pinkie because Bill cut it off while possessing Ford when he was a baby as a threat. Trying to scare Ford into compliance by threatening to kill the boys. Ford did some very unsafe brain surgery on himself to make it impossible for him to ever sleep again. Cutting off Bill's ability to control him for the most part.

Portal is gone, still living in Gravity Falls though, and keeping an eye out for anyone Bill might try to manipulate. Fidds and his wife are divorced. Emma has primary custody but Tate stays with them in GF during the summers where he often bullies Nik and Newt. But Nik and Newt don't tell their dads about it because they know how much Fidds loves his other son and they don't want to make things complicated for him. Tate is just taking out his frustration over his parents failed marriage on his half-siblings. Fidds takes the twins with him when he visits Tate and the rest of his family in California for Christmas. Ford stays behind because Emma hates him and he doesn't want to deal with her family.

Ford and Fidds aren't married both cause it's not legal yet but also tbh not sure they ever would regardless just cause Ford is pretty disinterested in those sorts of formalities. Whatever it is they have going for them right now works for him.

Heavy thoughts below the cut.

TBH I made myself sad thinking about autistic people and our relationships. The way we love isn't always obvious to NT people and it can sometimes feel like you're not good enough for anyone because loving people in the way you're expected to is such a struggle.

Sometimes I see people frame Ford^2 as this completely unrequited thing and it reminds me of the experience of loving people very intensely but feeling unable to prove it because it's so difficult to live up to the standards most people have in relationships.

I like Fiddlestan as a ship it's cute and a fun idea and I get the appeal but there's a little nagging thought in the back of my head that it kind of implies Ford's neurotypical brother is better. More capable of real love. That Ford was never good enough. Not to say Fiddleford didn't deserve better but the idea that these two couldn't have worked makes me kind of depressed for kind of personal reasons so I wanted to make up a universe where they do.

Not to say there isn't plenty of material of Ford and Fidds reconnecting as old men and making it work but the fact they lost so much of their lives to bad decisions is still sad.

[matan4il]

Israel's 76th Independence Day

-> Geek fact: Today is the 14th of May, but also the fifth of (the Hebrew month of) Yiar. The Hebrew and Gregorian calendar only coincide once every 19 years. Since Israel was established, this is only the 4th time when we get to celebrate it on a day which is both the Hebrew and the Gregorian date of its founding.

-> Israel's Independence Day start the eve before, with a ceremony that both concludes our Memorial Day for our fallen soldiers and terror victims, and transitions into celebrating our independence. I don't think anyone can understand life here, or the Israeli people, without getting this impossible, yet necessary emotional transition.

-> This year, more than ever, the two days, commemorated one right after the other, feel impossible to separate.

-> We have an Independence Day ceremony. Every year, it celebrates the best of Israeli society. All of it. Jews and non-Jews. 12 Independence Day torches are lit (representing the 12 ancient tribes of Israel) by individuals who stood out in making a change for our society. As you might imagine, this year the ceremony was more emotional than ever before, with an incomprehensible number of heroes of all kinds.

-> Some highlights for me included the lighting of a few torches in the scenes of the massacre instead of all being light on Mount Herzl in Jerusalem. For example, families of some of the murdered at a southern Israeli beach, invaded by sea, lit together a torch at the place where their loved ones were taken away.

-> The Jewish prayer for the release of all hostages, sung by Lior Elmaliach in front of 132 empty yellow chairs (same color as the ribbon that people wear to call for this return).

-> One of the released hostages singing a mash-up of two songs about the sun (re-finding it, and discovering that the sun is inside us), while all the violins around being lit in yellow, and the yellow ribbon for the hostages' return looming larger than life in the background.

-> An Israeli soldier, who fought in this war in Gaza, performing a love song to the Land of Israel on his violin (it was performed in that moment without the lyrics, but the song goes, "The land of our people, the land of our eternity, a land in which we were born, a land in which we will live, come what may"), lit in white, while all the violins around him are lit in blue, the two colors of the Israeli flag.

-> That moment when Iris Chaim, whose son Yotam was one of the three hostages accidentally killed in Gaza by our own soldiers, who right away sent a message to those soldiers that she understands, she's not angry at them, and they're invited to her home, who's been working to lift and unite people's spirits before and since, when she was saying she's the mother of... she named her first born son, but then she had to stop and take a deep breath before saying Yotam...

-> When the flag bearers, outstanding soldiers carrying the flags of all the units of the IDF, did the traditional portion of the ceremony where they form different shapes, but this year they started by spelling the Hebrew word נזכור (nizkor, we'll remember).

-> How soldiers wounded in the current war (enough to need crutches or wheelchairs) participated in multiple sections of the ceremony, including the more physical ones, like the flag bearers' formations (in the pic below: forming Israel's flag).

-> They had a group of kids from different northern and southern Israeli communities who are still, even over 7 months since the start of the war, internal refugees. They got to perform as singers and musicians together with several very successful Israeli singers. The second song they performed felt especially fitting, as it's about going out into the world, strengthened despite adversity.

-> It's not easy to celebrate when the pain is so endless. The other day, I shared this list for our Memorial Day of just some of our victims that we lost, but will never forget. One of them was 24 years old Baruch Korichman. On the eve of Purim 1924, he was walking to his home in Tel Aviv. Out of nowhere, two Arabs showed up and shot him to death, then fled the scene. Even though the British Mandate was in place, meant to hunt the murderers down and bring them to justice, meant to take care of Baruch, no one really did anything. The body was taken to the courtyard of a hospital, Baruch's mom was called, and a small crowd of locals started gathering around, angry and protesting the injustice and the lack of proper treatment. Baruch's mom turned to the crowd and asked them to be quiet, and not stop Jews from celebrating Purim.

IDK how she managed to do that, care about other people's joy even as she was going through the worst nightmare of any parent. IDK how Jews during the Holocaust managed to find it within themselves to go on celebrating Jewish holidays. I just know that they did. And if they could, so can we. We can remember the Holocaust survivors, who survived the worst of what human nature is capable of, who came to the Land of Israel right after the end of WWII, and who saw the founding of the Jewish state, who got to celebrate its creation and first Independence Day. Most talked or wrote about it in terms of a miracle. The State of Israel is still a miracle. All the hatred we've seen turned against it even on Oct 7, while our people were still being massacred, is proof of that. And it is a good thing to remember that, even while we hurt.

On Oct 7, Israeli civilians went out to save their own, because the State of Israel has given them the tools to be able to, to know how, to have the strength, courage and self-confidence to go and tackle the enemy. On Oct 7, Israeli civilians knew that someone was coming to save them. Even if it took time, even if there was no way of knowing who would get there first, they knew an army that cares and wants to save them is on its way, and when I think about my Jewish People, in the shooting pits in Europe, about to be massacred by an antisemitic army, knowing for sure that there is no one on the way, that no one cares, that no one's interested in saving them, I know that as difficult as Oct 7 was, it's not the same, and it will never be the same, not as long as Israel exists. So I will continue to celebrate its independence, even as I know there is no cure for antisemitic hate and violence. We can't eradicate them. But all of us here together have created something that gives us dignity as human beings and as Jews, that our ancestors were denied. We are here, and we are the People of Israel, and we can stand tall in the face of the worst of our haters and murderers. Am Yisrael chai!

(for more of my posts regarding Israel, click here)

[totothewolff]

Season of Love (6/?)

+18 | Toto x reader fem!teamprincipal, romance, comedy, and some good drama.

Summary: One night on a pier in Monaco, while admiring the sea under the night skies, you tell Toto: "I came to the conclusion that love is simply not meant for me." That's the answer to a question you have been asking yourself for the longest time. But what if he proved you wrong? Author's note: This is a multichapter Toto Wolff x team principal reader fic set along a season of F1. It's a very immersive story full of drivers, team dynamics, races, mystery, and smut. You just bought the Williams team, but nobody really knows who you truly are.

< Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >

Dances with Wolff Arc Chapter 6: Collision at Turn "Your Heart"

UK

Sam and Toto go to the Soft Serve Society in London the following day to have milkshakes. They share a sizeable Instagram-able shake, asking for two straws instead of one. 

The place is intimate and small, perfect for chatting. Its location in a trendy neighborhood gives Sam the ideal excuse to pull that Thom Browne boyish suit out of her suitcase.

As Sam is asking for two matcha cookies to complement their order, she notices Toto smiling like an idiot at his iPhone screen.

—Wow, that time you two spent apart did wonders for your relationship. I thought it was a "cease and desist" situation, as if there wouldn't be a turning point, but I haven't seen you like this in a long time.

—How? —Toto moves his gaze to Sam, a bit perplexed.

—Stupidly in love. So you two are genuinely back?

—Oh, that... well, we are trying this open relationship thing. Actually, I wanted to talk to you about it.

Sam gives him a judgy look, her eyebrows slightly frowning. —Let me guess. Susie suggested it; you said no, then she pressured you, and you followed along. There is no need to explain further; I get it.

Toto shrugs and barely nods his head.

—It's always what Susie wants, isn't it? You are so blind sometimes —she sounds now annoyed.

—I thought you, of all people, would get it. You see love differently than in the traditional way. Preferences aside, you are more free regarding feelings and partners.

—Yes, yet I'm not into playing with other people's feelings. 

—I'm not being played or playing with her feelings.

—To which one of the two hers are you referring?

A silence.

It's the first time Sam addresses the elephant in the room. 

—Listen, I don't want to overstep, and God knows I don't want to get in the middle; I love you both; yes, I said that, and stop smiling like that, but for fuck sake, you two need to communicate and talk! LIKE TALK! I know it's not my place, and I have tried to remain as neutral as possible, but I genuinely care about Y/N; there's more you need to know about each other because this thing is going to blow in your faces the worst way.

—What's on this? Is this really happening? You telling me how you are feeling? —Toto picks up the shake to smell it, making a funny face and trying to lighten the mood. He also avoids giving Sam an answer but pays attention to her every word.

—Oh, fuck off —Sam pushes him a bit roughly.

—Sugar sure is a drug! —Toto's holding a laugh.

-

—How did your day out with Toto go?

—How do you know we went out? Stalker!

In response, you give Sam an exaggerated insulted expression (hand over your chest and open wide mouth). —He texted me when you two were at the ice cream place! He even sent me these pictures! —you show her the conversation. —By the way, that outfit of yours is CUTE!

—Oh! It was you then —she says quickly and softly.

—Sorry? —you look at Sam as if another head grew from her neck.

—Oh, nothing. Toto didn't mention anything. He was just smiling like an idiot and giggling like a teenager, looking all in love at his phone screen.

—All what? Sam, what you said?! —you feel your heart in your throat.

—Did you follow my advice? —she cuts your shenanigans.

—I tried to follow it and address our "situation," but he rushed to get wine. He ran from the conversation, and I didn't feel like having it much, either. I knew how it was going to end.

—Well, keep pushing, trust me.

—Is there something I should worry about? —you suddenly stop and look straight at her.

—It's not my place to tell —Sam answers neutrally.

Then you two board your jet with directions home, your new home, Monaco. 

Now, thanks to Sam's words, an eerie sentiment fills your head. Is she trying to warn you something?

-

It's a quiet flight; well, if it wasn't for Samanta's snoring, not even an English Bulldog snores that loud. 

Which makes you laugh hard; you have forgotten how terrible Sam sleeps. 

It's been a while since you two slept nearby, which was the most common thing for all those years you lived at the Manor.

You have always been very much like sisters.

You take out your phone and start recording a video of Sam sound asleep with T-rex arms, open mouth, and loudly snoring, all weirdly placed on the comfy, big seat next to you.

-

Monaco

Why, every time you land in Monaco, your mind is in desperate need of a Toto detox?

-

As soon as you are in the car ride home, you hit the send button on the "Get a grip, loca🏎!" group chat.

After you share the video of Sam sleeping, a long list of replies and reactions appear in the group.

She threatens to murder you in your sleep.

-

Two nights after being back, when Charles enters the apartment wearing the world's most oversized outfit while trying to juggle four bottles of wine - one held under his chin - and a big fancy grocery bag while avoiding stepping on "Robbie" - your Roomba robot - you feel so at home; this couldn't be a more domestic scene for you two before you rush to help him.

Never mind, too late! Now, the kitchen floor looks like a crime scene. 

God, how much you missed him! Keeping your friendship while hiding it from the rest of the Scuderia has been difficult. 

Ferrari is a hermetic group that likes it that way; being extra friendly with the enemy could cost Charles' head, thanks to Binotto's paranoia.

—FUCK! FUCK AND FUCK! —he lets out, looking at the now red floor, followed by various French cursings coming out of that pouty mouth. 

—At least the other three survived —you hear Sam say, entering behind him and holding two more bottles and a cake.

—Several bottles of wine and lots of food. This is an intervention for me, isn't it? —you ask, looking at them suspiciously.

Both of them energetically nod.

—We need to talk about Bruno —Charles jokes; he obviously means Toto while grabbing the paper towel on the kitchen counter to try cleaning his mess, which is as useless as you expected.

—Damn —is all you let out.

At some point, Charles gives up and prefers leaving a fat tip and a Post-it for Rosita when she comes clean tomorrow morning.

-

—Hi, I have a quick question: How much do you weigh?

A text from Toto comes in the early hours of the day as you are about to hit the treadmill in your luxurious building's training center. You rushed down there, unable to sleep a second more.

After the intervention, you comprehend lots of things need to change.

—(Y/N's weight), why? —you reply. 

It's still dark outside.

Only you and three others are alone in the enormous gym section, which feels quiet and isolated, perfect for decompressing. 

Apparently, when Toto and you are apart, you are both early birds. It's always a snooze fest when you two are tangled in sheets. Probably, it's because he makes the world's most fabulous pillow or because he loves having you wrapped in his arms.

Judging by his text's unusual hours, he may be overthinking it too. Lately, you have felt driven to exercise earlier in the morning as well to avoid losing your sanity.

A couple of minutes later, a video of Toto adjusting the weight of his barbells to your weight before doing a couple of hip thrusts comes as a reply.

You watch the video a couple of times, okay, several times, before hitting the reply button. —I can help you do some repetitions if you want; I know a very effective routine! My trainer also advised me I needed more cardio —you tease him, feeling a tingle down there, hehe. 

Fuck! You are falling for it again, and you just swore to Sam and Charles that there would be no Toto during this break!

As Toto reads your text, a pleased smirk forms on his lips, and then he exhales and returns to exercise. 

He shouldn't be feeling this desperate for your attention. It has been only the first week without seeing you.

The way you have turned his life upside down is unimaginable.

-

—Your girl is in town! —Normani sends a selfie of herself in the group chat, throwing a pose on the Monaco pier, looking flawless and stylish in a two-piece Casablanca outfit (an orange thee with colorful stripes and shorty shorts and pulling the coolest glasses) while blowing a kiss. —Let's hang out tonight!😈😈

—OH, I KNOW JUST THE PLACE —Lando writes back.

—Italy.

Several "???" appear.

—I'm in Italy —Seb clarifies.

Now, it makes sense.

—Someone needs to help Seb with this, really —George says.

—Let's take him to one of those free classes at the Apple store, you know, with the senior citizens —Checo jokes. —I'm with Carola's parents and the kids in Guadalajara, so we are out of the fun this time.

—Tell Carola I love her —you request Checo.

—I will, thx.

—I don't wish for an apple, thank you —Seb replies.

—Dear God —Lewis texts.

—Jk! Jk! I'm not that inept, and I'm not yet a senior citizen, but soon, 2032 let's go! —Seb exits the conversation.

—Lando, send the location —Lewis texts. —That's great to know, Seb. I'm already saving for our turbo wheelchairs to challenge you in races at the retirement home.

—There, see you guys at 1 a.m.

—I want to live enough to witness that, Lewis —Mick enters the conversation.

—This club looks like a shithole! I don't wish for my organs to get stolen —Charles points out after looking for the place on Google Maps; it's only a run-down facade photo of the place in a not-that-neat street.

—Trust me, you are going to love it —Lando comments.

—Is it private? —Lewis asks. —Cause last time we went out in London, getting us out of there was a nightmare.

—That's precisely why I'm suggesting this place!

—Spain.

—I'm in Spain —Carlos texts, mocking Seb. —Have fun without me, guys, even though I don't think you can. Send pictures. I miss you, my friends.

—Te extraño, too🙇‍♀️ —you reply, Carlos, you have become fond of him.

—🥰🥰 —Carlos sends.

—I'm liking this sketchy, mysterious place already —Sam joins in.

—Sam, is Millie still in town? —you ask her, you met Millie for brunch two days ago.

—No, I already left 😭😭😭. Mick invited me to hike in Patagonia—a photo of them out in nature follows her text. 

—Okay, the ones who are going, please send a hands-up emoji; I'm booking the table —Lando texts.

-

You make your way through the winding streets of Monaco on Charles' bike at full speed; you are sure you flashed at least four people with that party mini dress you are wearing as you head to the mysterious nightclub. 

As soon as you park, you agree with Charles that it looks like a sketchy part of town, but the faint sound of pulsing music and the flickering lights emanating from a door down a narrow corridor between two buildings right in front of you quickly distract you and guides you in.

Soon, as you enter and go down the long stairs, you are immediately enveloped in a world of luxury "decadence." 

The atmosphere is electric, and the air is heavy with the scent of exotic perfumes. 

—It smells like good sex —is what Lando tells you as he greets you, looking at your two "trying to discover the scent" faces.

The walls are decorated with striking artwork, each more provocative and daring than the last.

For sure, this place is the stage for many wild escapades.

As almost everyone gets there, the group is drawn to the center of the club, near where the main stage, lit up with swirling lights and seductive, almost naked dancers. 

Your table in the VIP area "it has the best location in the place", again, according to Lando.

As you sit next to Nomani, who gave you the world's greatest greeting hug, you get mesmerized by the hypnotic rhythm of the music and the dancers' graceful motions. 

You get transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from them. Gorgeous he/she/they are on the stage.

—Beer, gin, what are we drinking? —Normani asks you.

—Tequila —you answer too quickly for her and Sam's amusement.

—Tequila, it is! —she says loudly and makes a little dance, shaking the girls around. The more than happy waiter witnesses it before getting the bottle.

You pour everyone a shot to start the night. Lewis just arrived, and George is running late as usual.

—Can you smell it? —you ask everyone.

A couple of "What?" come along.

—The regret —you joke as you all take the shot.

The group then goes full party core, joining the pulsating dance floor and losing themselves in the music. 

Laughter and shouts fill the air as the exotic dancers approach you and the crowd to exchange some sensual moves.

Amidst the chaos and allure of the night, Toto arrives. Unexpectedly.

Charles and Sam instantly look at you, almost throwing you darts.

—I swear to God I didn't invite him!

George did.

-

As alcohol skyrockets Lando, he starts doing push-ups for you in the middle of the dance floor as a techno-dub mix of Olivia Newton John's and Dua Lipa's "Physical" starts playing while he looks straight at you.

—Is that supposed to impress me? —you raise an eyebrow, cross your arms, and lean on Lewis, who is also witnessing the action.

—Is it working?

—Never stop believing in your dreams —you laugh it off, and Toto playfully rolls his eyes at him, then winks at you.

"Oh, God, I'm weak! I'm not going to resist the temptation."

—The dancer with the jockstrap hasn't taken his eyes off you the entire night —Toto points out for Normani, gesturing to which one he refers.

Normani makes a "definitely wouldn't mind" expression. —Too bad I don't do one-night stands —she confesses.

—Like ever? —Lewis looks at her like she is from Mars.

—Hopeless romantic right here! —Normi answers. —I like to party, but I'm so old-fashioned. Thanks, Mom!

—What a classy lady, indeed! —George says.

—It's my Britishness britishing —she jokes. —I want a husband, a big house in the countryside, horses and babies, you know, the traditional.

—Like, literally, this is the worst place to discuss family! —Sam warns them with a "Don't kill the mood, guys" look.

—The worst! —you all burst out laughing.

—I'm not sure if she is messing with us or..? —Lando comes closer to saying to Charles.

—No, really! It's my biggest wish. I can't wait to be a mom! —Normani lets out. 

—But you are so young! —everyone looks so shocked at her. Quite the revelation!

—I KNOW, but I want four! So, I better hurry up.

—FOUR?!! —everyone kind of screams in response.

Normani looks at them with a big smile, happy with the chaos her confession is causing.

—I get you, girl. I do love one myself; I have wanted to be a mom for years now. I feel I'm close to adopting one, but I need to do something with my schedule first. It would be impossible with a baby!

Toto listens to your conversation, very quiet and still, looking as if something inside him broke.

-

—Hey, I want to talk to you privately. I have something important to tell you; it's been on my mind for a while —Toto approaches you to whisper in your ear.

—Oh, sure, yeah —you agree to. "Okay, breathe, the moment it's coming."

When you reach a quiet spot to talk without all the people buzzing around, the loud background noises, and the almost butt-naked performers, you two remain there in an awkward silence for a minute.

Toto looks like he wants to say something but doesn't, so you break the ice first, feeling your hands shaking a bit.

—So what do you want to tell me that's so important?

He looks straight at you and takes two steps to close the distance between you. —Ahem, so... so what are you planning for... for the off-season? —he takes you off guard.

"Okay, this is not what I was expecting."

—I... I don't know... yet.

—Maybe we could spend it together. I know a private island that would be perfect —Toto offers you, totally improvising.

—Oh, I see...

—I mean... if you want to.

—No, no, of course, I want to!

—Perfect, then —he says, his voice deep. Toto then takes your hand, and you're surprised by the warmth from his touch.

"Coward" "Selfish" is all Toto thinks for himself. "But I don't want to lose her. I need her just a bit more. I don't know how to quit her."

—What do you say if we continue this conversation somewhere even more private? —Toto invites you, his intense dark eyes piercing right through you. 

Before you have time to respond, he takes your hand and leads you toward the exit at the back of the place and into his car.

Soon, you arrive at his luxurious penthouse, abandoning almost all of your party clothes in the process. 

You glance around the dimly lit living room, admiring its opulence. The walls are decorated with fine art, and the scent of wealth lingers in every corner.

Toto, already bare-chested, removes the rest of his clothes, revealing himself. You can't help but stare at his toned abs, defined muscles, and delicious dick. 

He smirks, noticing your admiration, and pushes you closer to the sofa. It creaks softly under your weight as he sits you down, eyes locked onto each other.

—You're stunning —Toto says while tracing his fingers down your body as you remove your last piece of clothing.

Your pulse quickens at his touch, and you move in, pressing your lips hard against his.

Toto's tongue sneaks its way between your parted lips as he pulls your naked body close to his. You moan softly.

Slowly, he leans back onto the plush pillows, taking you with him. Your bodies intertwine in a passionate embrace, enjoying the heat from his broad chest into you as you run your hands all over him, feeling every inch of Toto pressing against your core.

He grabs you by the hips, grinding you against him forcefully, causing an excited whimper to escape your lips. You can't help but crave his every single inch.

Sliding yourself lower, you feel him harden beneath you. —Fuck, you're so hard —you whisper into his ear as you stroke his length up and down. 

Toto flips you onto your back, not letting you control the show yet, spreading your legs wide. He effortlessly glides both of his hands beneath your ass, lifting you up like you weigh nothing.

His left-hand squeezes your ass cheek possessively while his right supports your lower back. Then Toto lowers his mouth to your inner thigh, his tongue trailing a path of wetness up to your core, where he tastes you. 

You gasp, your breath hitching whenever his tongue flicks your clit.

Plunging his tongue deep inside you, he tastes the sweetness of your essence. Moving back up to your clit, he sucks hard, provoking you to tremble under the pleasure.

Your fingers entangle his thick hair, tugging and pushing as waves of delight roll over your body. 

Toto stares at your swollen clit and massages it gently, building an almost unbearable tension in the pit of your stomach before he slides first one finger, then two inside of you, feeling you tighten around them as he moves them in deliberate circles.

—What the fuck, you feel incredible —he mumbles against your folds. He increases his pace, sucking harder, flicking faster until you are shuddering against him, gasping for breath, about to break apart.

Your vision gets blurry as an involuntary moan escapes your lips.

—I'm so fucking close —you cry out, inarticulate with pleasure. Toto looks up and climbs back up your body, kissing and nipping at your soft flesh as he goes up until his thighs are between yours.

—You want me to make you come, don't you? —he whispers seductively, nibbling on your earlobe.

You nod, biting your lip. You need Toto to fill you, to end this unbearable craving he had built inside you.

—Please, Toto —you beg, thrusting your hips upward. A desperate whimper tears from your throat when your sexes don't meet.

Toto chuckles softly, smirking at your desperation. —Then fuck me —he murmurs, placing you on top of him, inviting you to ride him right there, inviting you to guide him inside of you. —Fuck me hard.

The feeling of him filling you up, inch by inch, sends waves of ecstasy through your body. —Oh, god, yes —you moan, encouraging him deeper.

Your bodies move together in perfect harmony as you ride waves of pleasure. Toto grunts and groans with each bounce, whispering obscenities in your ear as you cowgirl him with an arched back, panting heavily. Wetness pools between you as your sweat-slicked bodies slap together rhythmically.

Toto grabs your hands and pins them behind your back, changing the angle of his thrusts. He hits a spot deep within you that sends shivers down your spine, producing a guttural moan from your lips. 

He smirks at the sound and repeats the action, watching your reaction with fascination.

—Fuuck —you cry out, every muscle tensing as your fingers curl into fists. 

Toto continues to plow into you, each thrust harder and deeper than the last, making your tits bounce without control, making you a mess. 

You look down at him to see your bodies moving in a slick rhythm, leaving trails of sweat and lust on your skin. He looks wild, eyes burning with desire and mouth parted in a low growl as the scent of sex permeates the air around you.

You whimper as he releases one of your wrists, allowing you to wrap your hand around your breast. Your fingers tease your sensitive nipple, sending a fresh wave of sensation flooding through you.

Toto watches you touch yourself, entranced by the movement of your hand on your breast as his thrusts become erratic.

—Fuck, you're so goddamn beautiful —he mutters roughly, his hips slamming into yours hard. The sound of your bodies colliding resonates throughout the room, mixing with your erratic breathing. 

—You like that? —Toto asks, smirking at your eager expression. You feel yourself getting closer to the edge, ready to burst at any moment.

Toto's dark eyes pierce into you, watching every twitch of your face and every moan of breath.

His thrusts become more deliberate, each one pressing into your womb.

—Fuckkk —Toto groans loudly, struggling to contain himself. His muscles tense as he gives it to you very fast; sweat drips down his face, onto his chest, and you.

—Toto! —you moan very loud as you come all over his dick.

—I need you —he confesses to you as he is about to come. You bounce hard and desperately on his cock, till you hear him grunting loud; a mess of panting Toto fills you up.

-

Ferrari's big anniversary is coming up next weekend, and they are set to throw the biggest party ever, a very fancy gala that will take place in Rome, or so Charles discloses to you.

—I'm actually excited for this one! —then he turns to show you the jewelry bracelet he likes before trying it on while cheerfully chit-chatting.

—This one is more your style, I like it better —you agree with his pick, as you two are out shopping.

While the sales lady adjusts it to his wrist measurements, Charles continues telling you: —This party has been in the making for so long, and all the rumors we have been hearing about it from the planners keep getting better; it honestly sounds so good!

You attentively listen to him while trying on a set of butterfly diamond earrings. Yes, you need them.

He continues: —I really wish I could take you like my plus one! But I'm taking my mom; I promised her way before meeting you.

—Oh, sweetie, no worries! But do tell me more about it. Sounds fabulous.

—Well, it will be very VIP, with only big clients, a couple of A-lister celebrities, and influential motorsports people. There's a lot of gossip about what or who will be the entertainment.

—I guess I'm not part of the big names of motorsports yet because I haven't been invited, haha. Mattia doesn't like me, isn't it?

—He is not your biggest fan, but almost no one has been invited; as far as I know, it's just the Scuderia and people Mattia considers his "paddock friends." —Charles gestures with his hands. —And some special guests with a history with the brand, like Niki. He is going! I know because Sam is his plus one; she told me yesterday.

—Maybe I should buy Ferrari to party with you at that fabulous event —you laugh it off as you sign the check for the earrings.

—And to party with Niki —Charles adds, joking.

—I heard he goes hard! —you joke back. Nowadays, if Niki stays up after 10 p.m., he considers it a wild night, in his words.

-

As you are about to finish your grilled salmon at that gorgeous "Gaia" restaurant in Monte Carlo, your phone buzzes on top of the white mantelpiece, grabbing your attention.

—Didn't you lose something?

—Not that I know.

—How weird, cause I have this plus one ticket with your name on it.

—Haha. You got me!

—Feeling like going to a fancy party in Rome?

—A getaway trip to Italy? SIGN ME UP! —you happily reply, already thinking about what you will wear.

-

Rome

As the sun descended over the iconic Roman Colosseum, flashing cameras lit the red carpet at the ancient structure's entrance. 

Sleek Ferraris pull up, each more luxurious than the previous, dropping the celebrities and high-profile guests off to make their grand entrances, dressed in the most glamorous outfits and adorned in shining jewels. 

Amidst all that circus, you two stay on the sidelines, watching the spectacle unfold before quietly skipping the paparazzi and splitting apart to enter the temporarily built ballroom.

—Surprise! —you extend your arms to Leclerc; he is now fresh off the red carpet, the one you avoid to keep it as discreet as possible.

A prominent smile forms on the lips of the Monagesque. —We could have shared the flight here, you know! Instead of you flying here all by yourself —Charles rolls his eyes at you and then hugs you. —I really believed you when you said you didn't get invited. You got me!

"But I didn't fly by myself!" You want to correct him on that, but you don't.

Inside, the atmosphere is as opulent as outside. Red lights illuminate the ancient structure, and lavish decorations adorn every table set. Cirque du Soleil performers move gracefully through the crowds, dazzling costumes twirling and shimmering as they entertain the guests with their mesmerizing acts.

You take in all the sights and sounds of the extravagant gala surrounding you, where motorsport legends mingle with billionaires, entertainers, engineers, celebrities, and beautiful models. 

Laughter, loud music, and chatter fill the air, along with the clinking of champagne glasses.

-

After having a blast dancing around, chatting, and goofing an hour later, you go to look for Sam, knowing she must be somewhere around. 

But the place is enormous, the crowd is big, and no luck so far; she is nowhere to be seen.

You get tired of searching for her and go to the bathroom. By this point, you have had many drinks, "Damn, that waiting line is long!"

As you try to find something to entertain you while you wait, you start scanning the place with your eyes, observing every gorgeous detail, when the silhouette of a beautiful blond woman steals your attention. Four girls in front of you in the line, there is Susie.

She is as beautiful as you expected her to be in person but more petite; she looks fit and fierce but kind. You can't help but stare at her before wondering what she is doing here. Then a "Duh! Idiot! She is a big name in motorsports!" hits you.

-

As you return to your table from grabbing chocolate-covered strawberries a bit later, you run into Sam.

She stares at you with the widest eyes ever, completely surprised. —What? —she lets out, standing still.

—Surprise! —you reach to hug her. —I have been looking for you all damn night! —she barely hugs you, and your big smile starts to fade away. —Is all good? —you ask, concern while looking straight at her.

—I'm so sorry, Y/N. I genuinely am —she mumbles. Samanta's features are full of dismay.

—Sam, you are worrying me.

She gestures to you to turn around.

"Oh, there is that feeling you remember so well." 

That awful fucking feeling of getting your heart shattered. Like a bullet going through the flesh, a sting of pure pain as if your heart was glass and was getting crushed by a hammer, pure and profound pain as you watch Susie wrapped around Toto's neck with no inch of space in between them, standing by the Mercedes guest table, sharing soft kisses and pets. 

Yet you are so skilled at hiding your feelings that it requires an expert - like Sam - to figure you out.

With a neutral face, you faintly say: —I need a moment.

—Y/N... I will go with you...

—I need a moment, I... I need to get fresh air. I will be right back —you start walking in the opposite direction to them, and Sam follows your every step.

—Y/N. I'm here for you...

—I'll be back, Sam. I need a moment, please —you make her stop following you around. So she contains herself and watches you walk away, worried about you. 

Sam knows your mental health hangs from a fragile thread.

-

—I want a Tequila and tonic with three tequila shots in it, please —Samanta brusquely drops herself on her seat at the Mercedes guest table and asks the waiter for a heavy drink.

—That would be two, please. You have learned from the master herself. Where is she, tho? I spotted Y/N and was going to greet her, but I got distracted by a sexy lady asking for a selfie. Now I don't know where she went to —Lewis asks while looking around, trying to spot you among the crowds.

The music is loud, so conversing is challenging if you aren't near enough.

—She's outside chatting with Vettel —Charles inserts himself in the conversation between a pissed-off Sam and a clueless Lewis, arriving a bit rushed at the table and placing himself between their two chairs.

—Hi mate! —Lewis pats his arm, and half hugs him while still sitting. Charles rubs his shoulder in response.

—Hey, Sam. I made the changes you suggested to my speech. Do you approve? —Leclerc hands her a folded piece of paper; "She is out there crying" is written in big caps.

Sam and Charles exchange warry looks.

—It's perfect. I will help you practice it.

—Great idea, let's g...

A loud "ow" sound from the crowd interrupts them. A tray hits the floor loudly, followed by glasses breaking. It's all coming from far on their left. 

They all turn their heads toward the noise, as does almost everyone in the entire place.

—I'm so so sorry! Oh my god! I'm an idiot! Please forgive me! —a very distraught and nervous Vettel apologizes frantically to you. 

He accidentally crashed into the waiter holding a tray of wine glasses as he crossed paths with you, the ones that landed all over you, fucking up your dress, before smashing on the floor. 

Which made poetic sense since you felt wounded, and now you looked like it.

You could sense Toto's eyes burning into you. You weren't supposed to be there.

Lewis gets on his feet. —Jesus, poor Y/N —and he notices how Toto looks utterly shaken by seeing you here and looking whiter than a ghost, and at that moment, he gets it. Fuck.

—Seb, Seb, SEB! —you raise your voice as Vettel keeps apologizing and talking nonstop. —It's okay, sweetie. No worries; I will go change! It's all okay.

—I'm sorry. Please forgive me; let me escort you out. It's the least I can do.

—Okay. Fine —you finally agree, looking a bit done with Seb.

You two start walking to the exit, which is all the other way around for your fucking luck. As you depart, you can hear the people whispering and staring at you. 

A frozen Toto watches you walk past them, and you can't help it; for the briefest moment, you make eye contact with him before Vettel blocks the view.

—Sebastian Vettel, you are a good man —Sam whispers.

—What? —Charles reaches even closer to her.

—Y/N is not coming back. Seb was her exit out. 

—Was that on purpose?!!

—Yes. That's why you saw them talking out there, for sure.

—Are they that close? Since when? I had no fucking clue.

—Since Y/N set foot on the paddock —Sam replies, knowing the whole story. —She's an expert at hiding in plain sight.

—Should we check on her? —Lewis turns to them, still on his feet, looking tense.

—Y/N will be fine; she always is —Sam says aloud for the entire table to hear. She can feel Toto's eyes on her but doesn't care to look back at him.

-

Vettel takes you inside a black-tinted Suburban. As the chauffeur speeds away from the Colosseum, he holds your hand and never lets it go.

Seb asks you to stay at his place so he can care for you and keep you company, and you agree.

You two cuddle in the back seat while you cry in his arms all the ride to his place. 

It's a long one.

You don't know if it's because your heart is shattering into a million pieces, or because you feel vulnerable right now, or just cause Seb is such a kind and precious being that you pour all out. 

You let him know everything, every single fucking detail about your fling with Torger and how you feel right now. You had never been so forthcoming with anyone about this, not even Sam.

—I'm so sorry about how the night turned out; I invited you as my plus-one with the idea of having the best time. I wish I had known all of this before! Finding it out this way, gosh, that's harsh —Seb tells you, with a mixture of mortification and sadness.

—You aren't the one who should apologize! Hey, at least we had a good time on the flight here. Thanks to you, now I want to build hundreds of hotels for the bees.

He smiles brightly before adding: —Right now, you need to rest and feel, let it all out of your system, and tomorrow start new! I'm here for you.

—Thanking for acting out that exit; you deserve an Oscar.

—I have been mistaken for Brad Pitt before, you know —he jokes to try to make you smile, but it's in vain. —You are a good actress, too.

-

You crash on his couch. Barely making it inside, collapsing as soon as you cross the entrance door, feeling drained.

You have experienced the "heart broke syndrome" before and know how it goes, so you needed to lie down ASAP.

-

After God knows how many minutes since you blacked out on the sofa, you hear a noise above you. You slightly and a bit unwillingly open your eyes to see Seb covering you with a remarkably soft blanket that feels so delicious. He drops a puffy pillow on the rug beside you and lays himself down there next to the couch.

You move to face him as he gets comfy there on the floor. —What are you doing?

—Oh, shit, did I wake you up? I'm staying here if you don't mind —he looks at you with apprehension in those stunning eyes.

—You are the sweetest —you tell him as you slowly drift off, exhausted.

As you fall asleep again, you understand now why Lewis dared risk it all for Seb and start wondering what happened to those two.

-

You wake up disoriented and feeling anxious. 

It's still dark. 

Seb is profoundly asleep and relaxed in the blueish-tinted living room, with the moonlight sneaking through the large windows. 

You stay there, unable to sleep but with zero energy to move. You observe his breathing, which weirdly helps you soothe yourself when suddenly, your phone screen lights up, stealing your gaze.

You try to reach for it since Seb placed your purse and phone on the coffee table at arm's distance before going to look for an oversized T-shirt that could work you as pajamas. 

It's a simple text from Toto. "Can I please talk to you?"

As you navigate your phone, you notice many missed calls from Sam, Charles, and Lewis.

Well, now it's clear communication and sincerity weren't your thing. You weren't one of those couples. 

Were you even a couple?

"Maybe it's best this way," is all you reply to him before turning your phone off.

Tears start coming down again as your phone screen dims and fades to black again.

-

The following day, Seb offers you to stay for as long as you wish, and you will take his word for it.

You don't feel like returning to the city you share with Toto; it's way too risky for you to be in Monaco. 

You need time to compose yourself. A lot is about to happen soon, and you need to be at your best. You can't fail. To be continued... < Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter >