#i bought a uke instead

[bigbrainbiology]

Doodle <3

[ectonurites]

Matcha

matcha: favourite book?

ooooough this is hard. much like last time i answered a question like this, it feels like every book i've ever liked or enjoyed just exits my brain as soon as i'm asked.

the book im ending up thinking about at this exact moment is Solitaire by Alice Oseman mainly bc it's finally getting a US re-release soon (with the updated edition of the story) so its just fresh on my mind

[tea asks]

[shotmrmiller]

since i'm rambling about self inserts? (is that it?) now you're miserably turning over on the bed, pulling the comforter over your head because you wasted a whole whopping 70$ for MW3 only to get an unfinished game and a piss-poor half-assed shock value main character death.

You fall asleep thinking about what you'd do differently- how johnny wouldn't die so needlessly, maybe even convince Captain Price to let Johnny put a bullet in Makarov's head in that helo.

And when you wake, your surroundings are different. The bed is too small when yours is a king, the innerspring mattress creaks when you sit up, even though you explicitly bought a memory foam.

The walls are spartan instead of the personalized decor you had. Looking over the edge of the bed, the floor isn't carpet. It's an ugly, white vinyl tile.

Where the fuck are you?

Your hands are callused but the only time you even got one was when you tried your hand at gardening, only to eventually realize you could kill a cactus with your brown thumb.

Hopping out of bed, you beeline to your bathroom and look at yourself in the mirror. Almost everything is the same. Eyes, hair, body, height.

Only difference is your flesh. It's littered with scars- both old and new. A thick, pink jagged line across your clavicle (a blade?), a puckered star shaped keloid above your hip bone (A gunshot wound?)

Stepping back out into the room, you carefully survey the space around you. A tac vest you swear you've seen before hangs on the back rest of your small chair.

Two black glock-19's sit on the desk. How do you know that? You don't know lick about weapons.

There's a large sheathed blade by your nightstand table. Didn't Rambo have one of those?

Suddenly, it hits you like a ton of bricks. You're dreaming. Jesus. Maybe you should start reading some smut fanfiction before bed to get Simon in your-

A knock at your door pulls you out of your degenerate thoughts.

oooookay.

Padding quietly to the door, the metal of the handle feels shockingly cold. How wildly vivid.

"Ye- what the fuck?"

What the actual fuck?

"Language."

...

Your mouth gapes in utter disbelief. "Simon?"

His dark eyes narrow behind his skull mask. "Chummy, are we?" He steps forward, forcing your neck back at an uncomfortable angle to keep your eyes fixed on his. "You and I, Sergeant, ain't friends. It's Ghost to you. Clear?" he snarls.

You swallow thickly. "C-Crystal, sir."

He tips his chin forward. "Get decent, I'm to take ya to the debriefin' room."

what?

"Now."

Spinning on the balls of your feet, you hastily dress, and grab the vest on the chair. UK flag on it. Tactical. Heavy as hell.

Your hands move on their own, and fingers smartly clip buckles, pull up zippers and close the pockets- as if you've been doing this your whole life.

What is happening?

When you get to wherever it was you were going, you're met with more recognizable faces.

Captain Price stands in front of Laswell, bulky arms crossed as he speaks to her in a hushed tone.

Gaz sits on a chair with his head hanging back as he blankly stares at the ceiling, trademark cap in place.

And then there's- "Bonnie!"

Johnny.

"Good to see Simon dinnae eat ye on the way here."

Simon Ghost doesn't react to the jibe at all.

Why are you sitting in the middle of the 141 listening to Laswell debrief about Hassan? Why aren't you waking up yet? You're lucid. The sharp sting of your nails digging into the palms of your clenched hands isn't dulled.

"Good hunting."

This can't be happening.

This isn't real. The heavy helmet strapped to your head. The weight of the bulky tac vest full of equipment. The painfully tight straps around your thighs. The way the rifle feels in your hands, solid and dense.

Not real.

Until you're offloading with Bravo Team in Al-Mazrah on the search for Major Hassan. The tall grass grazing your pants, the NVG's over your eyes to help you see in the dark. The harsh recoil of a weapon you've only ever used in a video game. The gurgling sounds of the enemies as they choke on their blood by your feet. The bullet whizzing past you, clipping your cheekbone. The burning sting of it, white-hot pain.

Real.

It feels fucking real.

[mrs-saturday]

🏹 The Archer (LS2)

♥ my masterlist!

♥ pairing: Logan Sargeant x Reader

♥ synopsis: The aftermath.

♥ a/n: Im so upset. Im broken. This is my grieving process

Combat, I'm ready for combat,

The pre-race ritual has always been the same for Logan and you. In front of the mirror, your hands slipping around his toned midriff, nails tracing the evidence of gym sessions beneath his race suit, his helmet on its stand, air at a standstill, as his head falls back onto your shoulder with a shaky exhale.

He knew it, and you knew it.

Zandvoort was the last one, and even though no one knew that for certain, and Vowles hadn't called the meeting, hadn’t thrown down the gavel on the blonde’s dream, you both knew it and it sat in your stomachs like a weight.

He picks his head back up, and turns to face you, planting a small kiss on your nose, and you do the same.

His nose is awfully cold, but you watch him slip the helmet on, and pray that it warms him through.

I say I don't want that, but what if I do?

Watching him spin out was like the nail in the coffin.

Watching orange tongues lap at the rear of his car was enough to drive you to a Hamlet-like state; to jump in his grave, pull the casket lid wide, and scream to the onlookers your love. 

When he’s back from medical, he looks at you, a silent acceptance of the end of his career quite literally going up in flames. He runs over, head buried in your chest as silent sobs wrack through his trembling frame. “Logan…” you mutter into his hair, about to ask what he thought would happen to his seat.

“I don’t even want it anymore…” he cries

“But, what if you do?”

'Cause cruelty wins in the movies,

He was told he was out 2 days before they announced it. The young Argentinian with his head hung low in the meeting room, unable to look at Logan. The cold fist of Vowles telling him what he’d been expecting, but the thought of him ruining this young boy’s career filled him with rage. 

How dare he do this again. How dare he do this to another bright star, to ignite his explosion all too short of a supernova. 

I've got a hundred thrown-out speeches I almost said to you

You try to get him to stop for a moment, but he’s sat furiously typing. He has to get it all out, he says. Too many thoughts, he says. He types and types as you hold him. Every frustration, every late upgrade, every lost nugget of feedback, every false promise, the results of which spilled into the American’s notes app like he was a teenage girl, feeling her heartbreak through lines of shower thoughts and ill-placed rhymes.

When he finished, he exhaled, and looked at you, with a weak smile, and hit delete on the note. 

Easy they come, easy they go

You two don’t stay in the UK long. The boxes are full the day it’s announced and the flights to Florida only a few days after. 

“Home” he had begged on that night, “If the track can’t be, I want to make home with you”

And you agreed, you packed up your life in England alongside him, the helmets and trophies of past delegated to a manila coloured box labelled “FRAGILE: HANDLE WITH CARE”

They would stay there.

For a while, at least.

I jump from the train, I ride off alone

The last thing he does is visit Oscar. Or at least, he tries to. His rosy knuckles tap on the Australian’s door one last time before he realises Oscar is not answering, despite the party going on inside the house. He is far too busy living their dream to remember to answer to the door to a boy delegated to a photograph on his mother’s refrigerator. 

I never grew up, it's getting so old, Help me hold onto you

It’s like he’s 11 again, in his parent’s living room, watching ‘Top Gun’, and eating popcorn. No one has bought it up. Not you, not his parents, not Dalton, it hangs in the air like the wheel had clung to his car by a wire’s length. Instead, you all ignore it for the simple pleasure of family. You laugh as he throws popcorn at his brother like they’re children. And you smile to yourself.

He never got to be a kid, really so why not hold onto that freedom now?

I've been the archer

He’d been the winner

I've been the prey

He was the prey

Who could ever leave me, darling?

You could never leave him, darling.

But who could stay?

Home always stayed.

[aurae-rori]

Wanna ask if you have any headcannons for aventio modern au

( cause I am obsessed with modern aus)

hellyeah brother i'm here to serve the masses

hcs about ratio:

still a doctor still has 8 phds

knows about student debt and hates it with a burning passion

has a duck keychain that he puts on his keychain with all of his keys like the keys to his house

once crushed a soda can in his hands during his student years bcs he was that fucking mad about the homework questions not being stated in a clear manner (he just like me fr)

has several duck plushies in his bed and theyre all named after either greek philosophers or roman politicians

can speak latin fluently and mutters curse words and creative expressions in latin during the classes that he teaches because he is that pissed off

used to be a full time doctor, but decided to turn to teaching instead after some time

hyper-empathy due to childhood neglect (he just like me fr)

eyebags that he covers up with makeup, he still has those from his student years and cant fucking get them to leave no matter how many hours he sleeps for

enjoys occasionally a rum & coke

really likes lattes and london fogs

had a british accent once because he travelled to the uk and picked up on it, when he came back he was mortified

fucking loves ducks so much he has a camera roll dedicated to duck photos

he got to pet a duck once he was happy for the rest of the week thats how much he loves them

massive nerd & dork

undiagnosed autism with a side of gifted child trauma

really likes jazz and lofi it calms him down fast and makes him happy

wrings his hands when he's really happy

touch starved

makes really good soup

hopeless romantic

more mentally unstable than you think he is. he is actually suffering from burnout but doesnt want to let people around him down.

doing his best. sometimes on the weekends he just nestles into a cocoon of blankets and refuses to leave. texture....

cannot not wear socks he will die without them

cat magnet for some reason??? all neighbourhood cats are at his doorstep even when he and aven already have three. ig hes just cat dad now

aventurine hcs:

still has those glasses, his eyes are more sensitive to light too

really fucking likes fluffy stuff he loves the fluffy he loves the fluffy he-

big fan of sheep and peacocks

eternally terrified that ratio secretly hates him even when they start dating

bpd & adhd & probably autism (ALL BPD HAVERS FUCKING WIN WITH THIS ONE!!!!! I SEE YALL)

masks so often its insane

used to smoke and drink heavily, but has started to lay off ever since he met ratio

still an adrenaline junkie and still has his stupidly good good luck

really likes coffee too, coffee addict, has horrible eyebags, a shitty sleep schedule, and overworks himself half to death

cant fucking cook what the hell is a kitchen

very fond of stelle/caelus and sees them as his surrogate younger siblings. stelle taught him how to play video games and now he plays with them whenever his thoughts get really bitchy to him

horrible at relying on other people but is slowly unlearning that

can do a backflip (why? idk)

high pain tolerance

has a collection of sheep plushies that his friends bought for him

numby and him get along really well. he and topaz still have that sibling esque relationship.

i think he still works for the ipc in this au but its not as bad as it is in canon

starved of touch and does not really know what a healthy relationship is before ratio comes along

loves blankets he has like ten blankets on his bed at once idk why

once poured monster energy into coffee and then drank it. he suffered the consequences. even good luck can't save you from that

listens to generic pop (lie. he actually loves indie guitar)

MENTAL ILLNESS REP IN THIS MAN

accidentally big brothered some kids. help how does he deal with affection

buys stuff for stelle and caelus too. he buys them sheep plushies. they will defend said sheep plushies with their lives. they buy him racoon plushie in return. he does not cry.

his fingers shake so bad sometimes (PTSD goes hard)

motor skills can and will die on him occasionally

unhealthy coping mechanisms but hes getting better guys

he does relapse occasionally but hes putting in effort. finally got his ass to therapy thanks to ratio :)

second cat dad. he loves his cat children he will die for his cat children.

the cats like laying next to him as he eeps if ratio isnt there. they purr and help him with his nightmares.

(ily people w bpd you deserve this rep!!! enjoy :3)

them together hcs!!!!

ratio already had background information on bpd due to his psych degree beforehand but did more researching into it when he realized that aven had bpd because he wanted to support his partner as much as he could :)

ratio is big on physical touch but aven needed some time to get used to it and he was very big on it

aven really likes spoiling the absolute shit out of ratio and likes getting him gifts because sometimes he doesn't know how to word how much he appreciates ratio

aven likes to wash ratios hair for him and visa versa, non sexual intimacy always fucking wins

ratio still worries about aven and doesn't like him gambling all the time, aven makes an active effort to better himself for him even if it's really hard

at the start it was really fucking shitty between the two of them but eventually aven started to learn how to properly and safely communicate with ratio and ratio learned how to phrase his thoughts in a way that wouldn't trigger something, and although they both make mistakes they are doing their best for one another and generally have a good impact on one another's stages of healing (im not projecting im not projecting i-)

aven will hold ratio in his arms and tell him that he's good enough when the thoughts get really bad

they love cuddling, who's big spoon and small spoon switches regularly because they both like being held and holding the other

aven will stop by ratio after his classes and take him home when hes too tired

ratio shuts down sometimes and aven messes with his hair and just stays with him until he reboots

they kiss <33333333333

they cuddle so much they hold one another going to bed

ratio likes giving aven little headkisses and peppers his face with them

they are gay and in love and healthy actually

they were never toxic yaoi never will they be. they are healthy.

they get married <333

this is so much more than what you asked for probably but here you go.

[captain-mj]

I know I've been doing a lot of these lately but high me constantly has ideas that high me can't write lol

But ngl dead dove (09 SoapGhost) idea where Roba, who got frustrated with Simon for not bending, instead of killing him, just sells him to some strange person in the UK. It's implied multiple times in the comics that he's attractive, so it's not like... an unbelievable idea.

The guy gets irritated with him after a bit and Ghost bounces from person to person before ending up in a certain MacTavish's lap. He's not bought directly by him, instead being purchased as a gift and given to him. Soap accepts, can't really turn down something like this. Maybe it's a person who loves too much to report. So he hides everything and just.... keeps Ghost.

Ghost being extremely closed off and Soap having to coax him into doing anything, even eating. He's not crying or acting like Soap would expect, still snapping back at him and fighting. But he never attempts to escape.

Eventually Soap manages to pry out of him that Ghost believes people are watching him and if he tries to escape they'll kill his family.

[nhlclover]

𝐒𝐎 𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 | 𝐑𝐔𝐓𝐆𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐂𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘

word count: 1.35k

summary: on your way to the spend a weekend at the lake house with his teammates, you think about your future with rutger

warnings: british reader!, mentions of some other umich players (nick, duke brothers), brief sad thoughts

notes: based on 'so american' by olivia rodrigo. who am i if not writing fics based on songs.

The morning sun was beginning to rise, casting a golden hue on Rutger’s jeep that rumbled down the highway, its tires humming against the asphalt. Rutger sat in the driver's seat, his left hand holding a loose grip on the wheel, while you sat comfortably in the passenger seat, your feet were propped up on the dashboard. Rutger insisted you hit the road early to get to Jacob’s lake house around mid-morning. You felt that was a little too early, but he was excited to spend some spare time at the end of the semester with his friends and girlfriend, relaxing on the water. To make up for the early start time, Rutger bought you an iced coffee and promised that you could sleep in the car on the way over.

However, you couldn’t find yourself able to fall back asleep, instead taking over aux, the early morning air that flowed through the cracked windows helping to rejuvenate you. You tapped your fingers against the door handle, matching the beat of the song you’d selected. Dirt On My Boots by Jon Pardi filled the space, a contented smile gracing your lips.

“You’ve turned so American.” Rutger says, pulling your brain out of its brief daze.

“What?” You ask, your brows furrowing.

“I mean… look at you,” Rutger says with a chuckle. “You’re sitting there with your feet on the dash, you’re listening to country music, and you’re repping USA merch.”

Rutger motions to one of his hoodies that you’d thrown on as you were leaving. It was one given to him by the world juniors team he’d just played on, the letters U-S-A largely displayed on the chest.

You turned to him, adjusting your position in the seat. "Oh, please, don't say that. I'm still very much British, thank you very much." You retort, rejecting the idea that you’d become American in any way.

When you applied for an exchange to the University of Michigan, nothing could’ve prepared you for what would’ve come. On your first day of classes in the new country, you met Rutger. When a pretty girl sat next to him in one of his classes, he knew he had to talk to her. It didn’t take long for the two of you to develop feelings, Rutger soon being the ‘dreamy American’ that your friends had jokingly told you you’d fall for. And fall for him you did.

It was unfair of Rutger to make you feel this much when you both knew your future was uncertain.

“Hey, there is nothing wrong with being American.” Rutger points out.

“Yeah says the American.” You tease, rolling your eyes. “Thank god I’m going home soon. I need to reconnect with my roots if you think I’ve become American.”

Despite that being a joke, you couldn't shake the underlying sadness that gnawed at you. In just one week, you were leaving Michigan and returning to the UK. The thought of leaving Rutger and the life you’d established in Michigan weighed heavily on your heart. You knew that the bond you’d established with Rutger would withstand the miles and borders, however the prospect of being separated from him felt like tearing away a piece of you.

Rutger, sensing the shift in your demeanour as well as knowing that the inevitable move was weighing on you, reached over, taking your hand in his. His cold fingers lacing between yours quickly drew you back to reality.

“Hey,” He said softly. “Try not to think about it for now. Enjoy this weekend. We’ve got ages to figure it all out.”

You squeezed Rutger’s hand drawing comfort from his touch. With a gentle smile, you met his gaze, gratitude shining in your eyes. “Thank you, Rut.” You said softly.

Rutger returned your smile, turning his attention back to the road while keeping your hand in his. You continued the drive, doing your best to expel the thoughts of leaving from your mind.

Three hours later, Rutger pulled down a laneway that ultimately led to a large house on the water. Rutger’s teammates were already outside, eagerly awaiting your arrival.

“Hey guys!” Rutger called out as they stepped out of the car. Rutger’s teammates come over, greeting the two of them.

“This place is beautiful.” You comment, admiring the glimpse of the water you could see past the house.

“God, I will never get over the accent.” Nick said. Rutger shoved his shoulder while you playfully rolled your eyes.

You considered yourself lucky that you’d become friends with Rutger’s teammates. From the moment Rutger introduced you to them, they’d welcomed you with open arms. And as you spent more time with them, they weren’t just Rutger’s teammates, they were your friends as well.

“Alright, now go get changed, we’re hitting the water.” Luca said, ushering the two of you inside.

You headed up to your room, changed into the swimsuits you’d brought, and then headed downstairs to meet the rest of the group. The rest of the afternoon, you guys remained on the water. You all took turns on the tube, as well as some of the boys deciding to test their water skiing skills. When the sun began to descend towards the horizon, a golden hue being cast on the water, you headed back to the house to start dinner, which was a full team activity in which everyone was put to work doing something. You and Rutger were put in charge of the barbecue on the back patio, teaming up with Dylan and Tyler to grill the burgers and corn.

After dinner was demolished, you headed down to the fire pit, relaxing in the Adirondack chairs, talking about whatever came to mind. The flames cast flickering glows on everyone's faces as you discussed sports, your exams, and random childhood anecdotes whether relevant or not. After a while of drinking and chatting, both you and Rutger hit your limits and decide to call it a night.

The second that Rutger’s head hits the pillow, he’s out like a light, the day’s activities catching up with him. After a full day of tubing and waterskiing, combined with the drinks they’d consumed throughout the day, everyone was wiped. You, however, lay awake, the moonlight reflecting off the water and into the open window.

You traced your fingers through Rutger's hair, watching his bare chest rise and fall with steady breaths. With the tranquillity of the room enveloping you, you find yourself lost in a maze of thoughts, your mind swirling with visions of Rutger and the future they could share.

England was home. England was where you grew up, where your family and friends still resided. The thought of leaving them to be in North America made your heart tense. However, lying in the sheets and staring up at the ceiling, you couldn’t help but imagine moving to North America to be with Rutger. As you look over at him, still peacefully asleep, you imagine the prospect of uprooting your life for the American boy you fell in love with, of bridging the distance to be with Rutger.

Your thoughts continue to wander, picturing what could come of life in America with Rutger. Your mind entertains the notion of marriage, a distant yet possible milestone. That might be a little presumptuous of you, with your relationship still being in its infancy, but you practically couldn’t help it. The way he’d made you feel in the past 8 months was unlike anything you’d ever experienced before. Every moment with him felt like a moment torn from a romance book. Every moment with him was filled with laughter and stolen glances, creating an undeniable intimacy and connection.

You had to eventually force those thoughts out of your mind or else they would’ve kept you up all night. You rolled over, curling into Rutger’s side, and placing a delicate hand on his abs. Rutger stirred momentarily, instinctively wrapping his arm around you, drawing you closer. For now, you were content to simply be in this moment with him, cherishing the time you had left before you had to return home.

[allywthsr]

CHRISTMAS TREE | (l.norris)

summary: you and Lando decorate the Christmas tree

wordcount: 1.2k words

pairing: landonorris x fem!reader

warnings: none!

notes: I can’t wait for when we set up our Christmas tree🥹, what are your thoughts??

advent calendar

It was the beginning of December and it was time for a Christmas tree. Lando and you loved to put up a real tree instead of just fakes, so every year you went to a farm where you could buy one. In Monaco there wasn’t a farm, so you had to go to the supermarket to get one, but whenever you were in the UK, farm it is.

Currently, Lando was driving you two to the farm, the trunk was cleaned and enough space was made so it would fit inside of the car. With one hand on your thigh and the other on the steering wheel, Lando was maneuvering you through the small streets. Christmas songs were playing from the speakers that you connected to your phone and it was cold outside. The perfect atmosphere to buy a Christmas tree, if you‘d ask me. Both of you were wrapped in multiple clothing layers, to keep yourselves warm.

When you arrived, a lot of Christmas trees were standing on the farmyard and the place was crowded. At least you were living in a small town, where everyone knew Lando and he wasn’t Lando Norris the racing driver but Lando the neighbor, so you two had no problem with taking your time.

You two greeted Garry, the owner, and looked through the different varieties of trees. They were big and bushy, or tall and thin, a mix of both these things or just weird-looking ones. You spent at least thirty minutes looking for the one, sentences like” No it has a bald spot“ or ” It’s wonky, can’t you see that?“ or even ”he‘s just ugly“ were used more often, but when you saw one of the last ones Garry had to offer, you knew you found the perfect match for this year. He was tall, but bushy and had no bald spots, he was perfect. Garry kindly wrapped the tree for you and loaded him in the trunk of your car, the tree was bigger than you thought and the tip was in between Lando and you on the drive home, he still kept his hand on your thigh the whole time, he was a clingy boy.

At home, Lando brought the tree into the living room and put it in the stand that you bought recently because the old one was broken. Together you tried to get it as straight as possible, but whenever you thought he was straight and Lando tightened the stand, he somehow was bent more to the left or to the right side, it was a disaster. After an almost fight because you two were so angry with the tree for not cooperating, he finally was how you wanted him to stand. He wasn’t perfect, but you gave up perfect twenty minutes ago, the tree was bent a little more to the right, but you turned it around so it faced the wall, that way you couldn’t really see it. Lando and you celebrated with a big hug and some kisses, you really deserved that.

Lando got the box with the baubles from the basement while you were vacuuming the space around the tree and tried to clean up the pine needles that fell off the tree while setting it up. The box was filled with orange baubles and special ones as well, like candy canes or Santa’s. The orange-colored ones were Lando’s idea, he desperately wanted to represent McLaren on his tree and who were you to disappoint him and insist on different colored baubles. For the background entertainment, you opened Netflix and looked for a Christmas movie, and when you found one that was interesting, you started it and got to work.

The fairy lights were more difficult to place around the tree as you had in mind. Every year you thought this was the fun part, but you forgot how hard it was to wrap it around the tree evenly and the cable couldn’t be too short or otherwise, it wouldn’t be able to plug the plug in the socket. Lando tried to navigate you from the couch, but when he saw you struggling, he got up and did it himself. He was taller than you anyway and was able to reach the top better. When the task was done, you could move on to the baubles.

Carefully you placed the glitter baubles all around the tree on the fir branches, Lando was supposed to help, but he sat on the couch, too invested in the movie, so he only passed out the different ornaments from the box. The sheer ones found their way on the tree as well, finding the right spot for the bauble had always been a rather hard task, you couldn’t decide where you wanted them to be placed, so you changed them around a lot before you were completely happy with the end result.

When Lando got up to help you, he wasn’t that big of a help, he randomly placed baubles everywhere and didn’t really look. There were two normal orange ones directly next to each other and it didn’t bother him! So you scooched him over to the other side, while you fixed the mess and hung the ornaments more far away from the other.

Last but not least you placed the special ornaments on the tree. You had colorful candy canes, some Santas, a few reindeer, and weird ones like a cupcake that Lando had bought a few years ago. He had bet that you wouldn’t hang it on the tree, and let’s just say, he loses five pounds every year.

But you also had cool ones where someone painted a picture of you and Lando on an ornament and gifted it to you, you loved how it looked and could not not hang it on the tree. This year you left some spaces in between the baubles because you wanted to do some ornaments with Lando, it might sound lame, but you turned it into a date night and Lando couldn’t deny those. Every two weeks someone would choose something to do during date night, and last week, Lando decided to stream and look through memes for two hours straight. You loved memes, and you loved streaming, but for two hours? It got boring after thirty minutes, but you waited until Lando said it was over because whenever someone chooses a date night, it had to be done, so he could make some ornaments with you.

The tree was perfect, but there was one last thing to do, to put the star on top of the tree. So you chose the perfect one, it was white and had silver specks in it, and Lando wrapped his arms around you under your butt and lifted you up, so you could reach the tip and place the star on top of it.

You two made some steps away from the tree and looked at it while hugging the other.

”It‘s perfect, isn’t it?“

All you could do was nod against his shoulder and kiss it.

”Thank you for doing this with me.“

”Always and everything, baby.“

[emkayewrites]

I wrote another behind-the-scenes-of-Bridgerton-Season-3 moment in my Lukola fanfic. This time, it's about the making of the mirror scene....

(Excerpt taken from my fanfiction 'Curtain Fall')

5th October 2022 – Buckinghamshire (UK)

He stood in front of her with a face full of determination.

“I will always stand up for you.” He insisted. “Because I love you… Pen.”

“Are-are you sure?” She found her words catching in her throat as she swallowed back tears.

He met her wide-eyed, slightly terrified gaze with a small yet reassuring smile.

“Everything I said to your mother is true.”  He looked away from her and towards the full-length rectangular mirror that was propped against the brick wall behind her. “And you shall see it as well.”

With those words and with some grace, he gently maneuvered her so that she was turned away from him; her back pressing into his abdomen, his arms hugging her from behind.  They both directed their gaze into the mirror before them, catching each other’s’ eyes in the reflection.

This part came easily to Nicola.  Conveying the hope that he truly loved you but not being able to let go of the fear that it was all a mistake or hoax somehow.  That any moment, he might pull away with the coldness and unfamiliarity of a stranger.  She knew as she played the part and said the words that she was channelling feelings that were years old and about Ezra, and the unrequited nature of their relationship.  She did not want those dots to connect but this was part of the challenge of being an actor; you did not get to choose what the work bought up for you.  This was what had kept happening to her every time they walked through these scenes.  She tried to orient herself to the present moment: to the fact that she and Luke were in a practice being presided over by Lizzy in a small rehearsal studio in the middle of nowhere.  This was not real.  Yet, this exercise only pulled her further away from the pivotal emotions she needed for the scene.

Luke’s hands travelled up her bare arms and rested tenderly on her shoulders as he bought his mouth close to her ear.  She inhaled deeply, holding his gaze in the mirror. 

“You… are the cleverest, bravest woman I have ever known.” His breath was warm against her skin.

This was meant to be an emotional moment; she felt the energy reverberating through him as he continued speaking to her with the passion of a man deeply in love.  Yet, she was no longer in the moment because she actively was trying not to be. The emotions had felt too difficult to hold.  She took another deep breath, trying to portray the feelings of overwhelm that Penelope would have to those words being spoken to her. 

“You make me feel seen in ways I have never felt seen before.” Luke had disappeared, all she could see and hear was Colin.  He was on fire.  “And then there is…”

He reached up to her hair which was gathered up rather sloppily in a bun and held there by a long, green hairpin.  He gently plucked it out and let it drop to the floor, letting her hair fall to her shoulders.  Nicola knew she should emote here but instead, she focused on Lizzy who she could see out of the corner of her eyes, huddled in the corner, watching them with a kind of enthrallment Nicola rarely saw.  She noticed Luke becoming aware of her distractedness; it was evident in the way he slightly stiffened, almost breaking character for the millisecond it took him to process what she was and was not doing.

“The way your hair cascades down your shoulder…” He carried on, but she could hear a change in his voice.  It was less romantic, more unnerved.  “The way your eyes shine when you look at me, like two blue pools.” 

He paused and turned his gaze from the mirror to her, making a point to look directly into her eyes.  She tried to hold his gaze with the nervous, lovesick eyes of Penelope Featherington but it felt impossible.  She no longer felt the tension and climatic build-up associated with romance, instead she felt like a thirty-something-year old in a slightly stained t-shirt and leggings play-acting the most ridiculous scenario. 

Comparing blue eyes to two blue pools? Really? She wanted to laugh.

Luke moved an index finger up to her chin and then began to run it ever-so-delicately across her bottom lip. “The firmness of your lips parted just so...”

It became too much.  It would have been fine if all he had to do was the talking but as usual, the touch pushed her beyond her threshold.  It came through as a small giggle at first, startling him slightly but he retained his resolve and tried to continue.

“…And the softness of your skin…”

No sooner had he finished the sentence than she had found herself bursting into laughter.  He let out a slightly frustrated sigh and dropped his arms, releasing her from him. 

“I’m sorry, I’m really sorry.” She apologized. “We can go again, I’ll keep getting better.”

“This keeps happening.” Luke was addressing Lizzy, not her.

“OK, well that was really great from both of you until that moment.” Lizzy reassured, standing up and walking towards them.  “I really got the emotions from you both but then you seemed to shift, Nicola.”

Nicola was not used to feeling the spotlight hit her and wanting to hide from it but, in that instance, she was not sure how to respond and wanted to avoid the topic altogether.  Lizzy was right, she had been the one to break character and there had been nothing going on in the room that had taken her attention away.  It was all internal and she was not sure she was ready to share what the content of that was.

“I was really trying.” Nicola lied.

“Are you sure?  Could what the mirror scene involves be making you get a little in your head?”  Lizzy prodded gently.  Luke was also appraising her carefully, a mix of concern and annoyance on his face.

“No, God, I’m alright with the upcoming nudity, honestly.  I might just be a little tired.” Nicola replied, hoping this would lead to a break and allow them to move on from the matter. 

There was a scoff from Luke that took her aback.  She fixed him with a frown.

“Anything you want to say, Luke?” Lizzy queried, picking up on the atmosphere.

“I don’t think you’re tired because this has been happening for ages, every time I’m delivering the most heartrending of lines.  You’re not tired, be honest.” He spoke with a frustration she had never really heard in his voice before.  Again, it surprised her and on some level, it also angered her.  She was trying, she was tired and yes, she was also secretly distracted by the complex emotions involved with Ezra right now, but he did not know that part, so how dare he accusingly state that there was something more to the situation?  She knew her train of logic was unfair but, in that moment, after several days of rehearsal, she did not care.

“I am tired.” She spat with some venom.  She noticed Lizzy tense up as she took stock of the direction the situation was going in. 

“OK, well I think we can communicate through this.” Lizzy spoke carefully. “Delivering highly emotional and sexually charged scenes is intense, it can bring up a lot.  I think it would be useful just to take a step back and check in with ourselves – what is coming up here?  Luke, can you elaborate?”

“Alright, I’ll say it.” He spoke with a forthrightness that was unusual for him.  “What’s coming up for me – I’m intimidated by you, Nic.  I’ve respected you and your craft and I’m just here trying to measure up. Every time I put heart and soul into a scene, it’s not convincing enough for you, you’re laughing or your breaking character.  It’s giving the distinct impression I’m not measuring up here.”

Nicola took a second to absorb the words.  This was the most emotionally exposed she had ever seen him.  She felt a sharp sting at his words and at the realisation that he had not just been nervous about playing a lead, but he had been worried about playing a lead alongside her.  There were always many jokes made about her perceived success and experience in the industry by many on the Bridgerton set.  They were a cast of many unknowns or first-time actors, therefore it was not difficult to stand out even with a few acting credits to your name.  As such, Nicola had never paid too much mind to these light-hearted comparisons.  Clearly, Luke, the conscientious overthinker that she now recognised him to be, did.

Standing beside her, Lizzy also seemed to be receiving his words with a solemness. She reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.

“Luke, I’m really glad you shared that.  I think we can forget how our performances are incredibly enmeshed and there is a metanarrative running through what you both do, in character and out of character.” Lizzy looked at Nicola expectantly.  “Do you have any thoughts, Nicola?”

“Well, I feel like a right dickhead, for one.” Nicola replied. She watched his features soften and relax. “It’s not you, mate. Lizzy is right, there is a metanarrative that I was hoping I could push past but it’s clearly affecting me, and now you.”

“What metanarrative?” He asked.  There was a look of relief spreading about him that made her feel simultaneously better and awful – she could not believe he had been carrying that much worry about his own performance.  She owed him an explanation.

“It’s…” She started but was not sure how to continue.

Sensing an opportunity, Lizzy interjected.  “You know what? I think… this is a great thing to talk through over a break and a coffee.  Maybe journal out your thoughts first and then share them with each other if that is easier.  Work out a way to support each other through your differing metanarratives?”

“That’s a great idea.”  Luke stated and Nicola nodded in person but in mind, the idea was terrifying. 

But it’s necessary. She thought.

[beegalactica]

HOT GIRLS ARE CONSCIOUS.

I haven't been on Tumblr in about 3 months (life has been busy), and when I finally decided to check back in today, I kept seeing the same thing over and over again, so I am here to dispel some myths.

If you have seen any of my posts, you will know the issues I have with traditional TikTok-y trendy 'glow-up' advice, but today I realised how much of it is just a ploy to get us to spend tons of money on things we CAN live without. I think we all need to be more CONSCIOUS: conscious of what we can realistically afford and implement into our daily lives.

For example, in a typical 'glow-up' advice post, tiktok or youtube video, they recommend these super unrealistic routines that include a full skincare routine of every type of cream you could ever imagine, and an incredibly detailed list that lays out how you need to spend every 10 minutes of your day in order to achieve this perfect form.

It's all hear-say.

Don't get roped into thinking that you need those brand new clothes, or you need those skincare items to be your best self. The idea of turning your 'glow-up' into a sustainable part of your life is to do things you can manage to do over and over again. The secret to glowing up permanently is having a routine that keeps you happy and healthy. Instead of buying a full shelf of skincare all in one go, get 1 or 2 items with positive reviews to start. You don't need to throw out your whole wardrobe and sell your soul to TEMU just to look aesthetic; use what you have. Rather than making short term impulsive purchases, treat every part of your life as an investment.

Especially when it comes to clothing, being someone who has lost weight and no longer fits into all their old clothes, instead of throwing everything out and starting from scratch, I bought a little amazon sewing kit with a couple of needles and different types of thread and started cutting and sewing my way to a better wardrobe. (Even TODAY, I turned an old pair of jeans that I never wear into a cute miniskirt all from a 5 minute YouTube tutorial.) If sewing isn't your thing, you can try using some hemming tape and an iron, fabric glue, or whatever you can. Be conscious of the things you buy and how often you buy them.

I know lots of people like thrifting, and you can thrift online with apps like Vinted, which I personally use and love, if you don't have access to massive thrift stores like they do in America (I'm totally not jealous at all 🙄🙄; I live in the UK and the closest things I have near me are charity shops but there's a sort of stigma around shopping in them but honestly who cares what others think).

When you shop for clothes, look for timeless and versatile pieces you can mix and match, layer and style with lots of different things, allowing you to wear them well. Try to find good staple pieces, that will make the basis of your wardrobe. Be an outfit repeater. Do not blindly follow trends; take the time to curate and explore to find your style. Make a massive Pinterest board of everything you think looks good, and start to make a list of common items of clothing and accessories you save the most; these will be your staples. Don't feel like you have to stick strictly to one aesthetic; my wardrobe ranges from 'fairycore' maxi skirts to y2k denim skirts, but what matters is that I am mindful of whether I will use the things I want to buy.

Of course, feel free to treat yourself, you 100% deserve it, but don't get sucked into the idea that your self worth is determined but WHAT you have; instead it should be how you FEEL in what you have.

I like to see my blog as a little notebook of things I wish I could have told my younger self, and things I want to remind my future self, and I feel like it would be a disservice to not talk about the oversaturation of our feeds with infinite products, to the point where everything feels like an AD.

Moral of the story: don't just take everything you see online at face value. Don't get trapped in extensive consumerism; it's bad for your bank account, it's bad for the environment and it's bad for your mental health.

Also here's my Pinterest if you want to have a peek around <3 Pinterest

[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 >

[sunshineandspencer]

Much needed apology (Iridescent, Part 8)

Let me stress, this is not Maeve from the show, but my own Maeve just named the same to send Spencer into hell whenever he thinks about it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!OC.

Summary: Thanks to the love and genius of one Penelope Garcia, Spencer knows exactly what to do to get Maeve to accept his apology and start forgiving him.

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: swearing, spencer gets over himself finally

Parts: Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6, Pt7, Pt9

be added to the taglist

He knew he needed to go all out. With how badly he fucked up, just turning up and grovelling wouldn’t be enough. So he took Penelope’s advice.

Rushing down - and having to walk since Ava took the car - to the nearest store that he knew sold some decent wine. Glad that they only lived about fifteen minutes from work so that it wouldn’t take too long to get back to her apartment. The less time it took to apologise, the less time she had to stew and get angrier.

Finding the best bottle of rosé that money, and taste, could buy. Dragging an attendant along with him to make sure that he’s definitely getting the right thing. All the way to the card section, which was absolutely shit, so they swiftly abandoned that and went for the chocolates instead. Of course, she’s not a fan of American chocolate since she visited the UK, and so he gets her a bar of dark mint chocolate. The poor attendant quizzed on everything for their input, barely able to keep up with the genius whirlwind.

As they finally got to the tills, and the attendant rang up his items, she gave him a look. To be fair, he was desperately begging her to tell him where the nearest florist was.

“.. just how badly did you piss off your girlfriend?”

He hesitated, only a moment, but that gave him the time to realise how bitter his mouth had suddenly become at the prospect of having to say “not my girlfriend”. So he didn’t, giving a sheepish smile as he picked up the wine and the chocolate.

“She might not let me into her apartment.”

“Good luck man.” Laughing at him goodnaturedly as she gave him the receipt. “Florist is down the street, make sure you remind her that you were stupid, she’s perfect and you love her.”

Even as he walked out onto the street, it stuck to him in a way that he wasn’t sure he knew how to shake off.

‘You love her, you love her, you love her.’

But he doesn’t, he can’t. He’d only just come to terms with liking her for fuck’s sake. Surely he can’t love her yet - he definitely would’ve realised by now. He can’t.. he can’t be that oblivious to his own feelings that he fell in love without even fucking realising, right?

Absently, he wandered to the florists and bought a bouquet of lilacs, even letting the sweet old man behind the counter wrap them in brown paper, adding a ribbon around the chocolates and the wine.

When asked if he wanted to put a card with the flowers, Spencer nodded, and the man waited patiently for the message to write.

“Write.. I’m an idiot, you’re perfect and..” I love you “.. I’m sorry.”

The man gave him a look, probably for the less-than-romantic message. Nestling the card safely between the flowers and handing the items back over. Clearly, however, the man didn’t need to be profiler to realise Spencer was going off to apologise to someone.

Patting his hand softly as Spencer tried to manhandle it all into his arms, terrified of dropping the wine.

“Good luck.”

Thanking him, he hurried back out onto the streets and started walking. Once again realising just how shit of an idea it is to piss off the owner of the car they drive into work, having to walk home as quickly as possible. Dammit, it’s their car.

It had been nearly an hour now, and that was too long for her to think that she actually thinks that way about her. He needs to make this right.

Passing the little blue mini, which he has come to adore just as much as Ava, and going straight past it into the building. Using his own fob - which he had specially made after she purposely left him out in the rain - and irritably waited for the lift to get up to her floor.

Resisting the urge to use the spare key he had, knowing that barging in uninvited wasn’t the best idea, and knocking on the door.

Waiting, heart heavy and suffocating in his throat, as her footsteps got closer. The door swung open and.. she’s already glaring. How the hell did she know it was going to be him?

Thankfully, however, he watched her eyes drift down to the offerings he had for her, softening incrementally until they nearly looked like how they had before. Carefully handing over the bouquet so that he didn’t drop the wine or chocolates. Her eyes flicked to his, accusatory.

“These are my favourites.”

“I’m so sorry.”

She blinked, clearly she didn’t expect him to apologise so quickly. Especially not without teasing her first - she knows she had flour on her face.

“Spence, I-”

“No, please, let me apologise.” If his hands were free, he would’ve already been holding hers, damn chocolate and wine keeping his hands busy. “I was way out of line. I am worried about you taking on more work that you should, especially from people only taking advantage of how sweet you are. But it all came out so wrong. I didn’t mean to shout, or do it in front of so many people, I was going to say something on the way home tonight. I was overwhelmed and lashed out, but that isn’t an excuse and I shouldn’t have done it at all. I won’t do it again, ever.. unless you deserve it.”

The way she had been looking at him, clutching the flowers to her chest and just gazing at him through the apology, morphed into her usual smile at his teasing lilt returning at the end. Just what they both needed.

It did make him feel a hell of a lot better, seeing her smiling at him again, but she still hadn’t said anything.

Until she stepped aside and held the door open for him.

“Come on, I made too much pasta for myself.”

Stepping in, he can’t pinpoint why this feels different to when he comes in the morning, besides the obvious of course. Maybe because he’s going to spend (hopefully) more than ten minutes with her. 

“You’re making pasta?”

“Yep.”

“Even when half the flour ends up on your face instead?”

Ava pouted softly and swiped his arm as he stepped into the apartment, closing the door behind him. But it was nice to have that little thing between them back. Considering he’d been pulling away from her, and then lashed out, she was sure they were going to have to go back to hating each other.

Not that she’d be able to do that now, or ever.

“Rossi gave me the recipe when I joined, this is the first chance I’ve had to make it.”

It’s incredible, really, how he’s able to hold such a casual conversation with her while his subconscious is screaming that he loves her for everything.

He follows her into the kitchen, he loves her. He sets down the wine and chocolates on the counter, he loves her. She shows him the recipe that she’s following, complaining all about Rossi’s vague measurements, and God, but he loves her.

His loving mantra being stopped short in its tracks when he spots the little pink elephant on her couch, seemingly waiting for her to come back.

“You kept the elephant?”

Once again, he gets a sharp look, as she finishes up the sauce, and he wonders what the hell he managed to do now. Giving her a soft, sheepish smile to hope that it would placate her a little - it worked.

“His name is Clementine, and he doesn’t like you right now.”

Scoffing, Spencer went through her cabinets to look for the wine glasses and plates. Giving his own little look, which she challenged immediately. What kind of idiot was he, thinking he could give her up?

“I gave him to you, he can’t hate me, I’m his father.”

“Well, you upset his mother, and I’m the favourite.”

When she caught his gaze again, he was pouring the wine, and she stuck her tongue out at him. Which he returned and made them both laugh, a sound that blended so well together and eased some more of the lingering irritation in her chest.

Oh who’s she kidding, she couldn’t ever be mad at him for too long. Him and his stupid face.

Whereas he was stuck on her words, he’d upset her. He hated that.

They’d decided to eat on the couch, their ‘child’ between them, which they kept trying to subtly drag closer to themselves and away from the other person. Each of them wanting to prove that they were the favourite. Ava switched on the tv, putting on Married At First Sight Australia, claiming it was the superior version, and he willingly indulged her this time. During an ad break, he gently nudged her shoulder with his.

“We’re alright, aren’t we?”

“You bought me wine, chocolates and flowers, you’ve been forgiven, Spence.”

“So.. we’re alright?”

She laughed softly, meeting his little grin with one of her own. Nudging his shoulder back, but staying there, leaning into him and resting her head on the shoulder as the reality show kept on playing in the background. 

“Yeah, we’re alright.”

Oh, he had to focus very hard on his breathing to make sure that she didn’t realise anything was different with him. Carefully laying his own head on top of hers.

“Great, good! I’m really sorry Ave, I take back everything I ever said that hurt you.”

“Even about my driving?”

Bastard didn’t even hesitate, spinning the spaghetti around his fork as his eyes flitted to the screen, finding himself getting into her show.

“No. You drive like a lunatic and I won’t let you behind the wheel.”

“.. little shit.”

Want more?! Good!

[kimberleyjean]

What did Adam change? (Part 1)

To follow up on my recent reblog about the baby swap, I'm going to take a closer look at Adam where we leave him at the end of S1. Because, by the end of S1, Adam had changed quite a few things... and I'm going to use both the TV show and the book to provide evidence.

To become the Young's real son, I don't think Adam really needed to change all that much. He just says the words to Satan, Satan disappears, and that should be it, right? But no, because Adam goes much further, and I think he does it because he can.

Because Adam has opinions, you see. Opinions on how the world should be and what he wants to happen. Except, unlike Agnes, who needs to write a prophecy and then wait 300 years for her descendant to enact it, Adam can just make it so.

The Other Two Babies

I originally thought about putting all the things Adam changes into a single post, but instead I'm going to make this a short series of posts, because he changes a fair bit. Let's start with where we left off with the baby swap, crack open a copy of the book and discuss the changes for Warlock and Greasy first.

Warlock

Here's some excerpts of Warlock flying home from Megiddo to America (my bolds for emphasis):

It was Sunday afternoon. High over England a 747 droned westwards. In the first-class cabin a boy called Warlock put down his comic and stared out of the window.

...

And now he was going back to the States. There had been some sort of problem with tickets or flights or airport destination-boards or something. It was weird; he was pretty sure his father had meant to go back to England. Warlock liked England. It was a nice country to be an American in.

...

And Warlock flew on to America. He deserved something (after all, you never forget the first friends you ever had, even if you were all a few hours old at the time) and the power that was controlling the fate of all mankind at that precise time was thinking: Well, he's going to America, isn't he? Don't see how you could have anythin' better than going to America. They've got thirty-nine flavors of ice cream there. Maybe even more.

So it's Adam who has sent Warlock back to America, despite Warlock wanting (even, expecting) to be on his way to England. And he's controlling the fate of all mankind.

Greasy

Likewise, he has changes for Greasy Johnson too (the discarded baby who grows up to win prizes for his tropical fish).

The plane was at that point passing right above the Lower Tadfield bedroom of Greasy Johnson, who was aimlessly leafing through a photography magazine that he'd bought merely because it had a rather good picture of a tropical fish on the cover. A few pages below Greasy's listless finger was a spread on American football, and how it was really catching on in Europe. Which was odd… because when the magazine had been printed, those pages had been about photography in desert conditions. It was about to change his life.

Adam is deciding here how to alter Warlock and Greasy's paths. Warlock wants to be back in the UK, but Adam thinks America is better, while Greasy's magazine is changed to American football, which I guess is implying he's going to become an American footballer.

Now, not everyone may be aware, but these parts weren't in the first release of the novel. It only came about later, in the American edition. Apparently the changes were in response to prompting from the American editor, but they got "carried away" making those changes (source).

Season 3 (warning: speculation)

So, do you think this could be relevant for S3? For me personally, the fact that these bits were added later makes me wonder if this was helping to set up for a potential sequel. It's certainly poetic - just like the baby swap that originally involved all three, we are now implying a potential adolescent swap of Greasy, who is interested in American football, and Warlock, who is interested to return to the U.K.

If you've read at all about the hypothetical plot of the proposed written sequel, you'll know that it involved a trip to America, ostensibly to look for a lost Jesus. So, if the next book was originally meant to be about going and finding someone (Jesus?) in America, then Greasy or Warlock could make sense. It would be a switcheroo all over again if Warlock had left for the UK and Greasy for America.

Another alternative is that all three could end up converging in America, since Warlock already lives there and both Adam and Greasy have interests in going there. But if that's the intention, why mention that Warlock wants to be back "home" in the U.K.?

So, those are my possible takes on how this passage can be interpreted. I know there are some theories that either Greasy or Warlock may be the Second Coming. I've also seen a theory now that Adam himself could be a contender (both spawn of Satan and spawn of God - it'd certainly be interesting!). I'm not placing bets on any of these outcomes just yet.

In addition to this passage in the book, we also see some interesting changes made by Adam which are featured more prominently in the show - one's that have implications for the ineffable husbands.

Part 2 coming soon!

Thanks as always to everyone at the @ineffable-detective-agency (including @noneorother, @embracing-the-ineffable, @lookingatacupoftea, @251-dmr, @somehow-a-human, @maufungi, @havemyheartaziraphale, @theastrophysicistnextdoor, @dunkthebiscuit, @komorezuki, & @ghstptats).

[hansumswife]

ᴛᴏᴜʀ

chris sturniolo x angelina hamilton

chapter one

ALL OTHER PARTS

sturniolo.triplets

Liked by SkylarHamilton, MattSturniolo and 583,726 others...

sturniolotriplets TOUR DATES! TICKETS GO ON SALE AUGUST 9TH 2:30 PST 5:30 EST! Excited to see you guys 🦌🦈🦇

nicksturniolo Bats on top 🦇🦇🦇

chrissturniolo 🦌

user crying from europe

-> skylarhamilton ME TOO GIRL!! 😭😭

user BUYING TICKETS RIGHT NOW?!!?!!!!!

user raaah they all look so good 😍😍😍

skylarhamilton praying to god you just randomly switch up and come to the uk 🙏🙏🙏

-> sturniolotriplets Another time maybe 🤷‍♂️

-> skylarhamilton SCREAMING WHAT

-> skylarhamilton NICK PLS BE YOU I LOVE YOU 💕💖💗💞

-> nicksturniolo Love you more!!

-> skylarhamilton I DIED.

user Y'ALL IM SO EXCITED

user THRE CMIS TO MY CIY WTF OMG IM ROLNG ONIUA  TE FLOOR I CAT BREATHE HELp

-> mattsturniolo Lmao me too

user WHY ARE THE TRIPLETS SO CASUAL LMAOO ITS SCARY

user id beg my mom to go but she just wouldn’t let me 🥲🥲👎

user THE TICKETS ARE BOUGHT

mattsturniolo See y'all there 👋👋

Skylar Hamiltons birthday had been hectic already and it was only lunch time. First of all Skylar had woken up way before Angelina which was unplanned as Angelina had saved the decorations for the morning, the girls cake hadn't been finished by the bakery, some of her presents still hadn't come in the mail and most of the teenagers friends hadn't knocked at the door to join her party.

Angelina had tried her very best to make do with what they had. Turning blowing balloons up into a 'party game', picking up a cake that didn't fit the theme from the stores instead, and was currently trying her best to make a fun party even though only three out of the twelve girls invited had shown up.

What annoyed the siblings was that they had notice. It wasn't like it was a rushed invitation that had been handed out at the start of the week. No, in-fact they had invited people at least two months before to know what to prepare for, the girls who hadn't shown up had been in the group-chat that was made and were seemingly excited about it all.

But what pissed off Angelina more than it did Skylar, was that the girls who didn't show up were hanging out together and posting it on their public stories on every possible social media account possible. Lord knows she was damn near pulling up and screaming in their faces, but she kept herself calm.

So Angelina sat on the sofa and watched Skylar and her three friends; Jess, Sophia and Charlie. They were currently playing a stupid game one of them had bought over. It was some type of card game that had them rolling on the floor in laughter, so Angelina couldn't complain.

All she was waiting for now was the doorbell to ring. Her phone sat on her thigh, refreshing her texts every few seconds (sometimes minutes as she would zone out or get distracted by the teenagers in-front of her).

Once the doorbell rang she would be able to collect Skylars main present, the one she had bought not too long ago after doing quite a lot of research after the teenagers ramble in the kitchen one morning a few weeks ago.

"That's not even funny! I'm just— I'm—!" A cackle tuned itself in too Angelinas ears. Jess was struggling to catch a breath whilst speaking, Skylar and Sophia were both laid back on the carpeted floor with their hands on their stomach. The sound of laughter not even escaping their mouths as they were laughing that hard. Angelina smiled to herself, snapping a few pictures of the three that she would make sure to send to them all like she had been doing all night.

The TV played quietly behind them, a youtube video playing of the brothers their car, discussing something random topic each time Angelina would pass by. Skylar seemed to enjoy their channel a lot, along with the friends sat in the living room, and Angelina didn't really watch any youtube at all so she was open to anything. She would consider herself a 'fan' but not like the type she's seen occasionally on her for you page.

The dark skinned girl snapped out of her thoughts as the doorbell rung, the teenagers in-front of her not even noticing in the midst of their fit of laughter. Angelina stood up and walked towards the door where her friend, Maya, stood behind the wood.

Maya smiled towards Angelina, "Hey! How are you?"

"I'm good you? You have the thing?"

"Yeah I'm good, and of course." Maya smiled towards the dark skinned girl. Lifting the small, sealed envelope that was sat in her hand. "I would stay but I gotta run, tell Skye I said happy birthday!"

Angelina nodded with a smile, shouting a 'thanks' as the girl walked back towards her car, shutting the door and moving back into the living room. The group of teenagers were now sat on the sofas, the TV's volume turned up slightly as they were all focused on the current video playing.

Charlie looked up as Angelina walked in, "Hey, where'd you go?”

"Got something for the birthday girl." Angelina smiled, gently chucking the envelope onto her sisters lap which caused Skylar's eyes to drift downwards and her eyebrows to raise.

"What is it?" Skylar questioned, Angelina only shrugging in response and plopping herself down on the other sofa. Sophia and Charlie only smiled as they encouraged the girl to open the envelope quicker.

Inside the envelope was a small sheet of paper, small graphics decorating it. "Read it out then!" Sophia sighed, nudging Skylar in the ribs. Skylar only beamed a bright smile after skimming through the note.

"Dear Skylar, you are invited to the Sturniolo triplets verses tour in Orlando Florida on the eighteenth of October. Unluckily for you, your sister will be joining you but I hope you have a good time. Your flight leaves in three days, get packing."

The four girls squealed all together, jumping up and down in a small group huddle. Skylar separating herself from the other three and jumping onto Angelina, hugging her tightly.

"Thank you so much!"

"You're welcome Skye, just know you're doing the dishes for three days."

tags: @st7rnioioss @its-jennarose @timmyscomputer @kriissy4gov @liz-stxrn @sunrisemill @mattssluttywaist @riasturns @mx0qin @junnniiieee07 @sturnzsblog @mattslolita @ariieeesworld @alorsxsturn @nonameisthegameandilovejake

[borninwinter81]

Black metal battle vest update

A few more patches here - still plenty of space, but I'm getting to the point where the free spots are small and/or awkward.

Many of these are traced or stencilled and painted with black fabric paint onto white fabric.

The Greek lettering is from Rotting Christ and means "666". I don't understand Greek so I don't know how that works, but I feel like less of a teenage edgelord with this than I would a patch that just says "666".

Impaled Rektum is the band from the movie Hevi Reissu (Heavy Trip). Strictly speaking they don't belong on a BM vest as their music in the movie definitely leans more towards death metal (or more accurately symphonic post-apocalyptic reindeer-grinding Christ-abusing extreme war pagan fennoscandian metal) but I love that movie. Plus all the characters in the band represent a different genre, and Pasi/Xytrax is clearly supposed to embody BM.

Morbid is the band Per Ohlin/Dead was in before Mayhem. They only did one EP plus a few tracks that were only ever performed live, but they're awesome. Again not BM really, but with the Dead connection I felt like I could include them. Plus the shape is perfect for this spot 😁

Behemoth and Satyricon shouldn't need any introduction - those are both painted - and Rotting Christ underneath, which I bought from their bandcamp store. Seems appropriate to have those 3 together since I'm seeing them all on The Unholy Trinity tour next year.

The Alcest one is also painted. One of their logos is a little more complicated and I didn't even attempt it, but luckily they have another which is very simple and fits this spot perfectly. Alcest are a French band, and created blackgaze, a fusion of BM and shoegaze. Their music is gorgeous.

Last of the painted ones, and the first one I did using my tracing method. I got so much confidence from this that it led me to making all the others. Sarcófago, phenomenal Brazilian band who played a huge part in shaping what we think of as BM today.

As did Celtic Frost just underneath, this patch came from the Danse Macabre boxset because I'm a heathen who uses her collectible merch instead of keeping it pristine.

On that subject... two Immortal patches. Northern Chaos Gods was bought singly but War Against All was from the boxset too. I don't know whether I'm likely to get shit for this or not, but I've listened to Immortal for years, and I honestly think the last two albums (the ones since Abbath left) are their best ever, which is why I'm representing both of them here.

The War Against All box also had a pin badge but I haven't decided where on the vest I want to put it. It also came with an artcard signed by Demonaz which is exclusive to Eyesore Merch in the UK.

Backpatch. This was also homemade, but I'm not skilled enough to paint it, so it was done with printer transfer paper. Ulver are one of my favourite bands of all time, from their 90s BM, to their avant-garde, neoclassical, experimental, noise, psychedelic, and 80s synth style. All their work is absolute genius, and Nattens Madrigal is my favourite of their early material.

Lastly a couple of purchased ones, Bathory who again should need no introduction, and Agalloch who are another all-time favourite of mine, everything they've ever created is stunningly beautiful.

[sometipsygnostalgic]

The best system to play Gameboy games on is... well... you can play them on many devices.

Officially it would be GBA SP because it can run Gameboy and GB Colour games.

However, very few backlit SPs were ever released (they are frontlit). So a better unit for Gameboy Advance games might be the DS Lite, which universally is backlit and which is lightweight enough to not cause problems. It also has better ergonomics than the SP, but I am bugged by the black borders and empty second screen.

A really popular mod is called the "Gameboy Macro", which is when you take a DS Lite lower screen and use it solely as a gameboy advance. It is a great way to recycle DS units with a broken top screen, a common issue, though it makes me cringe to think some people modify perfectly fine units this way.

The Lite also has issues with the cartridge sticking out the bottom, so many prefer using the "phat" for this purpose. The original DS is both frontlit and backlit for some reason. The image is still an improvement on frontlit SPs.

The best units to play DS and 3DS games on are... the DS and 3DS.

Specifically the best place for NDS games is the DSi XL. No non-DS device has the touchscreen versatility to run DS games well, and it's very awkward scaling the tiny screen on an emulator.

The 3DS is also not a great place for DS games. The 3DS top parallax screen is incapable of a 1:1 pixel ratio even in pixel-perfect mode, which already has the issue of black borders around the screens, making touch-based games more finicky.

It is especially apparent on the XL models but is also an issue on the smaller 3ds models.

The best unit to play DS games on is the DSi XL. It has a backlit screen and more power and memory than the first two units, making loading faster. It doesn't have the scaling issues of the 3ds, as it doesn't need to do any upscaling at all - the XL has the same number of pixels as a normal DS.

I've never used a DSi XL because all the ones sold in the UK are these ugly beige colours and they never took off, but if you don't mind the loss of the GBA slot, it's the best device for DS games.

Unfortunately DSis seem to be plagued by yellowing screens. I can tell you the small unit I just bought has some very slight yellowing on both screens.

What's the best way to play 3ds games? Well, on a 3ds obviously. It's even harder to accurately emulate 3ds games than DS games, and you lose the 3d effects altogether.

But which 3ds is best?

It depends on what you want. The 3ds more than any other Nintendo system besides the Gameboy is heavily based on preference instead of objective superiority.

To get it out the way first, while the original 3ds has the sleekest look, it's the worst one. The original 3ds and 3dsXL have a much worse 3D implementation, relying on you to stare at the screen at an odd angle.

Not only does the New3ds fix the 3d with an eye tracking sensor, it also has more power again, and a "c-stick". I also think the screens on the New3ds are of a higher quality and run flat games better too.

However the New3dsXL has some downgrades. The SD card is replaced with a microSD but now requires a mini screwdriver to access, removing the back plate. The stylus is also a really tiny one like on the DS, in an awkward place, and the metallic skin on the console will decay very quickly with use. My New3DSXL's skin started peeling under my hands after just six months of use.

The New3DSXL is the best unit to play 3ds games if you are looking to have all the features at their most optimal. It is the best by far for playing in 3d. It can also run the DS library fine, if in a poor image quality.

Personally I prefer the XL, the larger size is easier on the eyes, though the customizable panels on the hard-to-find normal size New3ds are cute too.

If you don't care for 3d, the Wedge and Doorstop may be for you.

The 2ds has all the features of a 3ds apart from the 3d, while in a wedge shape that looks dreadful but actually feels more ergonomic. It has similarities to the first Gameboy Advance and you can't tell you're holding something so tall.

The original 2DS is sold for much cheaper than the other units because Nintendo sold it for cheaper and nobody particularly wants one, so it's the most affordable way to try every game in the DS library, especially if you pair it with a jailbroken SD card. Unfortunately it still uses the 3ds screen, just with no 3d slider, so it still upscales DS games and doesn't have perfect rendering of 3ds games either, but it's harder to tell as the screen's tiny.

The New 2ds XL was the last DS ever sold, it came out after Switch. A lot of cute variants of the 2ds XL exist, and most games coming out around its release didn't have 3d enabled anyway. The feature had died in popularity, so while a 2d 3ds was originally scoffed at, in 2017 it just made sense.

While the New2ds XL looks fancy in a distance, the ergonomics are worse than any 3ds, and far worse than the wedge 2ds. The New2dsXL is all style and no substance, with the speakers being covered by the user's hands, and it's made out of a flimsy plastic. It's clear Nintendo made the materials for the hull cheaper and cheaper over time, so by the end of the 3ds's life they had gone from a very premium-feeling device to cheap plastic. The Switch would follow this design philosophy.

I do salivate over that Pikachu version and I'd enjoy trying one, but my mind tells me it's not a great device.

All told, which do I think is better? Well I think the 3ds XL having the most features is inviting for me, and I have the choice of turning off 3D. However if you want bang for your buck, the 2ds wedge might be your safest option.

Unfortunately the New 2ds XL and New 3ds XL will cost you as much as a Nintendo Switch these days. It seems that sellers have wisened up to the demand from people who missed out on the 3ds and want to try it out. There's also talk of IPS screens being better and the New2ds XL, 3ds XL and DSi XL all use IPS screens, so people are scalping them or raising prices.