#i need to put them. in a centrifuge

[tera-starstorm]

and now i talk about the way yuki presents himself and his emotions and how it ties into his relationship with kieran. Nightmare incoming

so when yuki speaks on his Not So Great past experiences to people i think he walks a very treacherous line bc there is an inherent emotional aspect to them and like. he has to share emotions sometimes for the sake of other people. the only time he's really willing to do to it is if he thinks it'll help someone else. for example he has to do it to show dahlia he understands her plight. he has to express to kieran how Not Fun things have been for him to a degree.

however! he fine-tunes the way he talks about it to make it as unspecific as he can i think. like he will acknowledge the existence of that guilt and such but not his very specific experience with it and personal thoughts. and he's pretty good at being avoidant about it in a way that makes it seem like he has it under control.

he just kind of hopes nobody thinks too hard about the implications and if they do he can skirt around it if they ask and make it sound like he's got it all together.

it's interesting because i think like. generally speaking he isn't great with words right. like when he is speaking candidly. but if you pay attention you notice when he talks about this kind of stuff, it sounds like he's speaking naturally until you remember HIS way of speaking naturally is kind of scattered. like this is all shit he has rehearsed in his head a million times and just managed to figure out how to intone himself to make it SOUND natural.

so tying into all of that. an important facet of kieran and yuki's dynamic before the ending of ID is that the yuki kieran is that kieran is idolizing is a very idealized version of yuki. like... he is Blinded by this idea of someone strong and kind who seems to go on all these crazy adventures that he's only ever dreamed of right. because he felt like that kind of fantasizing was the only thing he ever really had and now that he sees someone ACHIEVING that he's like. that needs to be me. and i feel i need to Prove to him that it CAN be me. but here's the thing right.

kieran (albeit in a very strange way) is only seeing what he WANTS to see here. he is not seeing what got yuki to this point. he is not seeing that that is NOT something you would ever want to go through. and while he should not be putting yuki on a pedestal the way that he does or behaving the way that he is by any means. it is not entirely his fault for not seeing just how bad it really is because yuki is a fucking professional at hiding the circumstances that got him to where he is and the feelings that come with it. he is excellent at maintaining the persona of a friendly, extroverted open-book type because to a degree... he is actually like that! he genuinely is very friendly and extroverted but the open book part isn't as simple. he's open until you start asking about. certain personal things. and the way he avoids it/plays it off makes it seem like he's made peace with it/has his feelings under control and just prefers not to discuss it for personal reasons when the truth is he Absolutely Fucking Does Not Have It Under Control. in floretverse canon it is essentially inevitable that if you are the kind of trainer like yasuta or yuki you have been and will be exposed to Horrors Unfit For The Human Experience. and kieran does not know this. the first idea he gets of it is after the terapagos battle in which yuki just like. makes frighteningly intense eye contact with him (keep in mind that this is also the first time kieran REALLY looked into his eyes) and basically goes "you do not want to be me i promise" and does not elaborate further. and that's when it starts to sink in that there is more that he doesn't know. because in all reality he hasn't known yuki that long and Couldn't know and it makes him feel terrible for being so naive about it.

not only does kieran feel terrible about being naive about yuki's situation and how he glorified it in his head but now that he's picking up on how. Off. yuki is because he's really paying attention now. He's Worried. and if anybody knows what it's like to avoid talking about something and will be able to spot it from a mile away even at its most well-hidden it is him. he's already seeing what yuki's doing. all he had to do was get out of his own head and look a little closer. interesting because he spent so much time trying to get into yuki's head before he kinda snapped out of it but the yuki he was trying to replicate sort of. Wasn't real. but the second he is not so blindsided by his own desires and this Idea Of Him that he's created…!

[bisexualmcqueen]

Ok listen, I know you literally just posted about McQueen's parents, but I am already so obsessed with them and would love to know more about them!! 💙

ok so this has been sitting in my askbox since JULY (CRAZY??) and ive been thinking about it ever since. thank you for bearing with me<3 quite frankly i needed to reacquaint myself a bit longer with cars/my cars ocs after a 4 year long break!! lightning is about 43 now in 2024, which means i have 4 decades of his story to mentally keep track of (simply the flavor of autism i have). i bounce all over like a laserbeam in a hall of mirrors.

alright. oliver and donna time. blanket warning for varied implied child abuse/neglect. [background info this ask is referencing!!] ***

the very basic core of these characters is looking at lightning mcqueen and wondering how the hell he wound up all fucked up the way he did. hes got all the issues (he thinks hes sooo normal but there are so many things going on that arent right). so i invented a couple of fucked up guys to fuck him up (mildly to moderate) in his formative years.

oliver is the main culprit here. oliver mcqueen. yes- one of the core aspects of this character is "Two Of Them". what if there was Another mcqueen. imagine a second mcqueen man (dear god). he had a dad somewhere along the line. and what a guy, oh i'm sadly a bit obsessed with oliver. hes like if lightning mcqueen was Worse. hes a boomer from the boston metro area and he thinks he's cool as shit like bernie madoff doing investing fraud, trying to get rich. he thinks hes the wolf of wall street of texas. his head is completely up his own ass and hes a mean little idiot worm. hes supposed to be raising monty but all hes taught him is 'every man for himself' and how to close the door quietly. that and other things.

they live in the dallas metro area together from about 1988-1999. oli does not want to raise this kid, so he sort of just throws food and tires at him occasionally. monty spends a lot of time outside, raising hell (where'd you learn to fly like that, city boy?). typical racecar behaviors. (his teachers find him impossible to deal with often as well).

not to say that oliver is some irredeemable evil freak- hes funny, hes charming, hes a bit of a badass, hes sort of a hot pathetic mess in a funny way. he does pass on some decent traits to his son, gives him good advice occasionally. he's crazy, but he works in an office, so most of his schemes are social and criminal. i recently made an AU where he's a racer, so hoping to post more about that as i develop. (a successful oliver is much more frightening than one distracted by failure!)

this has oliver and monty vibes, oddly enough:

don't be fooled- oliver could never hold a candle to the heart of logan wolverine. oliver is a republican and he hates women (he loves women /derogatory). oliver sucks enough that lightning straightup considers doc to be his actual dad. next! ***

ah, donna. origin of abandonment issues, ring ring!

she's less developed than oliver because she exits stage left pretty early on in the story, but we still love her (or hate her, up to interpretation!) i actually recently gave her a full name even: Donna Ann SteelDust. yep, steeldust as in the mythical foundational sire of the American Quarter Horse breed. partly because texas, partly because i love horses, and partly because in the 1950's there lived a pair of quarter horses who were father and son named Doc and Lightning. and they were racing quarter horses to boot! oh, and partly because the mother of lightning mcqueen deservedly needs a badass name.

donna has monty at about age 20, with a godless charmer from faraway boston, out of wedlock, in a small community somewhere towards western texas in the early 80's. oliver is fresh out of uni and a couple years older. donna is a waitress at the local eatery. girl, your taste in men is abysmal. you can NOT fix him. traveler meet-cute gone wrong...

hes miserable enough of a partner that he is ultimately what drives donna to leave. gone in the wind one day when monty is about six. she met someone new. someone who she thinks is kinder.

she puts the tv to RSN every sunday. she likes watching races- radio when theres no tv. when monty becomes obsessed, she gets him a little strip weathers figurine when shes out of town one day that he manages to hold onto til his teen years. they sit in front of the tv and watch together, and have popcorn made on the stovetop. when lightning recalls his mother, this is the first place his mind goes.

she didnt want a kid (as in unplanned). she didnt consciously try to be a good parent (neither did oliver). but she was sweet. well, sometimes, when she wasnt being a hot mess and stirring up drama.

originally, i was going to have her die before lightning became famous. oliver was going to also be dead by now (2024). but ive got some new ideas- oliver is in prison, donna is in denial about her famous son and festering with guilt. she does not reach out to him. (latter idea from Non).

to boil them down further: donna believes in love, oliver believes in money. they go about it the wrong way. they make mistakes. (part of lightning's obsession with money is in unconscious spite of his father- he wants to prove a point, that he was doing it all wrong, he can do better, he can Win ['i'll show him!']. consciously, lightning's money worries are about his own longevity. there is no lightning mcqueen parts factory: hes some sort of rare 1 of 1 anomaly. unconsciously again: death [mortality, time lost, being forgotten] frightens him. out loud, he says wrecking does. he does not connect any of these dots fully.)

a looottt of this is in flux, these characters still need significant development. but its a story about loneliness, about escaping the cycle, about finding your wings. this is not lightning's family, this isnt where he lands. he doesnt have christmas at ma's. you cant go home again- there's no one there for you and there never was. cps doesnt save you. you find yourself.

mostly this all comes from my fascination with lightning's mysterious origin. and frustration with it. what do you mean the only in-film lore we get is "i've been dreaming about it my whole life!" and "glen elen- my first win!". all his convoluted emotional shielding (for a minute there). he jumps at loud sounds and thinks someone is shooting at him. his natural jackass behavior even after he is 'reformed.' his clearly ignored mental health concerns. he drives me insane forreal. lightning mcqueen i will dissect you and put your parts spread out on a clean workbench you bitch. i will label and graph you in 4D space. im putting you in the bee centrifuge.

gonna cap this off with a recent sketch of donna. turns out corvettes are IMPOSSIBLE to draw, send help. more info about this timeperiod/my ocs are filed under the "origin fic era" and "my ocs" tags on this blog (mostly barren at this time though. will add more.). excited to refine these characters even more as time goes on!

thank you again for the ask!

[transgenderfivepebbles]

All of you are probably aware that I am a man who loves to think about the Ancients’ daily lives, but most of all I am a man who loves to think about them being happy.

The lives not spent in perpetual meditation and self-sacrifice, those spent truly living for something other than the hope to properly die.

Moon speaks of big festivals, of classical paintings so adored that people forged family portraits in their style – family portraits – they cared for their families enough to get them painted together!

She reads a fragment of a poem, from an ancient farmer. Their name is Pel, nowhere near as vivid as those of the others. In the mists of memory, your image dances, like the motes of dust, in a ray of sunlight that pierces a dark room. It is a love poem, it seems; to whom, no one knows. Nonetheless, it is a work of love, and nothing else.

She reads a dark pink pearl. In it are over six hundred memories of one person, who lived near the end of their civilization. They were married with children. They spoke in debate contests, and were apparently incredibly stylish. They preserved the memories of a tasty meal from their childhood, a triumphant victory in a debate, and a peaceful moment in their older years. They were left here to be cherished by those who remained. None do, except you.

But still, you are here. You remember what they were.

And they were alive.

[beast-feast]

I sure hope nothing bad ever happens to any of these guys that sure would suck !!!

[dutybcrne]

Love the fact that Diluc and Kaeya were described to be “like twins” bc I get thinkings of them eerily having like. Smth of twin esp, and it just confusing the HECK outta Crepus endlessly bc only ONE of his boys is his biological son, and yet without a doubt, they were just so attuned to each other, that no matter where they happened to be, o matter how much older they got, they’d IMMEDIATELY beeline for each other if there ever was a shift in mood

[reisspieces]

silly fc

[fivefeetfangirl]

my roomie just said she doesnt know what the different programs on the washing machine are so she just washes her clothes on the t shirt program. ALL of her clothes 😐

[koolades-world]

Can I perhaps request satan and diavolo (plus maybe any characters that you may also wanna add) with a Gn/male mc whos similar to Levi when it comes to his interests (those being anime and not) and will even be unintelligible while talking about them at times (like talking to fast his words slur and mesh) and is just overall very excitable with his interests?

Sorry if this doesn’t make sense but yeah!!! Hope you’re well!!!

hello!! yes of course :)

this is so me!! love to word vomit about anything and everything I'm obsessed with! especially video game lore and my favorite science topics <3

did you know to genetically engineer, geneticist needs plasmids which come from bacteria in order to insert the new gene into the host, so to get them, they dissolve the cell wall of bacteria and spin them super fast in a centrifuge!!! one of my fav facts :) i can hardly contain myself when i get to share this fact eeeekk!!!! thank you for listening :3

enjoy!

Mc who loves to word vomit about their interests

Satan

sometimes he also just has the urge to rant about his favorite book series and has nobody to tell

so he knows how important it is to listen even if he doesn't say anything

if there's a manga, just let him know and he'll literally go out and buy a set for him to read

after he does, he will happily rant about it with you!

anything you like is good for him too so of course he'll get obsessed too

now you can bounce all sorts of fun ideas off each other about a mutually loved series

anytime, anywhere if you want to word vomit, he will listen even if it's during class

he understands you bestie

being part of fandoms is something he loves and he loves that he can share that with you

Diavolo

he listens to literally every word you speak to him even if he can't understand

you're his entire world so he's hanging onto every word

he makes an effort to engage! asks questions and lets you know he's listening

he always has this cute, lovestruck expression on his face when you speak

he goes out of his way to mention the things you said you like since he knows how happy it will make you

buys you all sorts of merch that he knows you'll just be obsessed with

if he can't find any, he will make some!

he puts all of his love into this gift and will present it to you proudly

he'll also accompany you to conventions and do matching cosplays with you <3

[transsongtaewon]

Myeongwoo was busily chopping away at cabbage. He found it rather dull, but at least he could appreciate the craftsmanship of the knife. It was very good knife, since he was the one who made it.

"Myeongwoo oppa?" Yerim stuck her head into the kitchen.

"Yes?" His focus didn't sway from the cabbage, fully cut now. He moved the piles into the salad spinner and set it in the sink.

"You and ahjussi are friends, right?"

He paused in his cabbage cleaning endeavour. "I'd like to think so."

Privately, he thought that 'friends' was putting it a bit lightly. He wouldn't cook three meals a day for someone who was just a friend. But he also couldn't say they were more than friends, necessarily.

"Why do you ask?"

What steps beyond 'friends' were there? Lovers, maybe. He inwardly recoiled. Definitely not that. Family? He didn't really care about his biological family and he didn't feel the need to put someone else in that spot, either.

"Just because." He couldn't see what Yerim was doing behind him, focused on his cabbage. "Do we have any leftovers?"

"I'm working on dinner right now." How long was he supposed to wash cabbage for? "You can check in the fridge if you want."

The door opened and she dug through the shelves. "Are friends usually as close as you and ahjussi?"

"Maybe. I don't know." It wasn't like Myeongwoo had extensive experience in the friendship department. It was entirely possible he was overthinking a regular, boring friendship. Well, not boring. He sometimes wished Yoojin was more boring, maybe then he would almost die less often.

"I mean, how long did you know each other before you wanted to move in with him?" By the sounds of it, she had located a box of pre-cooked ramyun noodles and was now eating them completely unseasoned. Teenagers.

"How long did you know each other before you made him your legal guardian?"

Her answer was muffled by noodles, but he was reasonably certain it was "Touché."

She did have a point. Everything including Yoojin had gone very fast. Myeongwoo knew why, but that didn't make it that much less odd. He definitely didn't mind it, of course. He just acknowledged it may look weird looking in from the outside.

"Myeongwoo oppa, did that cabbage to something bad?"

He was startled out of his thoughts. He really had washed it for too long. It had turned somewhat over-shredded and more than a bit soggy.

"Ah, I just got distracted. Thank you." He spun it to dry, as gently as possible. Which wasn't very, if he wanted to actually make use of the centrifugal forces, but at least he tried. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

"Nope! Call me when dinner is done!" She dropped her chopsticks and Tupperware in the dishwasher and left the kitchen as quickly as she had entered.

In the end it didn't really matter if he and Yoojin were friends or lovers or a secret third thing. They just cared about each other, deeply, and no one else had to understand what was between them. Maybe not even they themselves.

Myeongwoo started to wipe down the countertop to prepare it before moving on to cutting meat. Dinner would take a while yet.

Written for Sctir Pride Week Day 7: Friends

[victorrs]

ikevil characters and the lab equipment that i want to put each of them into (affectionate)

william - placing him in the waterbath (might keep increasing the temperature)

liam - swirling him gently in a shaking incubator

harrison - holding him over the bunsen burner like a marshmallow

elbert - storing him in a -150C freezer

alfons - observing him under a microscope

jude - sending him through a funnel

ellis - slicing him into very fine slices with a microtome

roger - sonicator (i need him to experience the noise, only so many times worse)

victor - centrifuging him (i think he'll like being violently spun)

[theclairvoyage]

Centrifugation: Chapter 4

Series Masterlist

Your first date with Joel is here… along with a few other firsts.

Warnings: SMUT SMUT SMUT we’re finally heeeere y’all!! Enjoy :*  Unprotected p in v (not gonna bother telling y’all not to do this – you’re gonna do it anyway.  Be smart!), praise kink, oral (f receiving), fingering, creampie, a microscopic hint of overstimulation, aftercare, FLUFF, poor attempt at describing wine flavors, mentions of Alzheimer’s.

WC: 6k

Banner courtesy of the lovely @cafekitsune <3

Monday, October 18th | 0830

You wake to find that it’s still raining.  You went to bed earlier than usual last night, tired from your errands and your much-needed orgasm.  Unfortunately, it did nothing to satiate you.  Your mind was running amok, the anticipation of this evening was making everything worse.  Sighing, you roll over and grab your phone to check your notifications.  One from your mom and one from Joel.  Mom never texts me, you think.  You decide to deal with the bad news first.

Mom: Hey.  Call me when you have a chance.  Need to talk to you. 

Rolling your eyes, you don’t respond.  She probably wants to know if you’ve been to church and why you haven’t come to see her in x number of months.  You scroll down from the top to click on Joel’s message.

Joel: Morning.  Can’t wait to see you later today.

Your chest flutters as you type a response.

You: Same here.  Hopefully the rain stops soon.

Joel: Sounds like it’s going to keep on until later this week.  Do you have an umbrella?

You: I don’t think so, actually.  I’m not a very good Nebraskan

Joel: I have a few, I’ll make sure there’s some in my truck when I come get you.

You: Thank you. *kissy face emoji*

Joel: Need more of those.

You: Real kisses or emoji kisses?

Joel: All of it.

You finally get out of bed, make your coffee, put on a fresh face, and head to the gym.  You figure exercising will calm the nerves.  After a tough session on the stair stepper, you stop to get some last-minute things at the grocery store and head back home, eager to finish the rest of the day and see Joel.

Monday, October 18th | 1745

Glancing one last time in the mirror, you give yourself a mental thumbs up.  Your dress is hugging everything just right, and your makeup looks flawless.  You must admit, you look fucking good.  You can only imagine what Joel looks like.  Slicked back hair, or tousled curls?  Slacks and a button up?  Either way, he’s going to look mouthwatering.  You throw some fresh panties, a toothbrush, and some day-after clothes in your purse, just in case.

Your fantasy is interrupted by a knock at the door.  Your eyes widen and you look in the mirror one more time just to make sure all your bases are covered.  You open the door and see Joel standing there, your breath catching in your throat at the sight of him.

“Evening, sweetheart.  You look—,” he abruptly stops, sucking in a sharp breath and taking you in.  He breathes your name quietly, as if all the air in his lungs has been snatched out of them.  He looks at you like you’re the end-all-be-all.  Awe and desire shimmer in his eyes as they flick up and down your figure.  You’re doing the same.  He’s got navy slacks on, brown leather shoes, and a white button up underneath a matching navy blazer.  No tie.  His top two buttons are undone, revealing tanned skin on his broad chest that you want to touch so badly.  His hair is slicked a bit at the sides, leaving a few dark tendrils from the top that reach down and kiss his forehead.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he croons, putting his umbrella down and taking your hands in his as he enters your apartment.

“You are, too,” you say, pulling him closer and wrapping your hands around his forearms as he moves his hands to hold your waist.  He stares at your face for a while, his expression mirroring that of the night at the bar, right before he kissed you.  He leans in and places a kiss on the corner of your mouth.  You turn your head slightly and catch his lips in a soft kiss.

“Nothing I imagined even came close to this,” he says as he pulls away.  You smile, your cheeks warming at his words.  Once again, your stomach ruins the moment with a loud gargle.  Joel laughs softly.  “Guess we should get goin’, then?”  You nod, clutching your stomach in embarrassment.  You put on your fuzzy sweater and grab your purse.  Joel leads you out of your apartment with one hand on your lower back, umbrella ready to go in the other.

When you both step out of the building, it’s pouring.  Joel opens the umbrella, and you scan the lot for his truck.  He points to a spot adjacent to the door, maybe 10 steps away.  Sighing with relief, you let him guide you to the passenger door.  He opens it for you, moving his hand from your back to your hand to give you a boost.  No guy has been so chivalrous to you – at least, not without expecting something physical in return.  You don’t think Joel is that way – but you want to make him feel good.

He turns the truck on and backs out, leaning on the center console with his right elbow.  He smells different than he did at the bar – less whiskey and spice, woodier with a glint of citrus.  You turn in your seat to admire him as he drives.  The curve of his nose, thick curls dipping down his brow, freshly trimmed black-and-white beard, thick and veiny neck.  His shirt exposes the perfect amount of his neck and chest, the sun-kissed rods of his collarbone peeking, no hair to be seen.  You can’t really see him as the type to get waxed – must be natural or rubbed away by the friction of wearing his thick flannel shirts for years on end.  He notices you ogling him, and the right side of his face curls up in a smirk.

“You alright over there, darlin’?” He cranes his neck your way, moving his hand to rest on the skin above your knee.  You relish the warmth of it.

“You clean up nicely, Miller.  And you smell good.”

“You should see yourself.  God damn,” he says with a squeeze on your knee.  It sends white-hot electricity bolting up your leg to your core.  He turns to look at you, his gaze molten with desire.  You gulp and break eye contact first.  You won’t make it into the restaurant if he keeps looking at you like that.

Thankfully, the universe gives you a break and he finally pulls into the parking lot of an impressive Italian Restaurant, Spezia.  The restaurant is an old brick building laced with vines; string lights are crisscrossed above the patio area and the name of the restaurant is carved in soft green, cursive neon light above the big front wooden doors.  You’d heard a lot of good things about this place but had never been.  As he parks, you instinctively pull on your door handle before catching yourself.  You turn and see Joel, staring at you with his head tilted and one eyebrow raised as if to scold you.  You give him a close-lipped grin.  “Sorry, keep forgetting!  Just not used to this,” you say, removing your hand from the handle.

“Good girl… we’re gonna change that,” he murmurs, which makes the hairs on the back of your neck stick up straight.  Fuck.  He gets out and walks over to open your door.  You hadn’t noticed that the rain stopped on your way over – too mesmerized by Joel.  Guess the universe is looking out for you.  He holds out his hand and helps you out, offering you his arm as both of you walk to the front door.

Inside is a dimly lit, open dining room with an array of circle-shaped tables donned in white tablecloths.  Tealights are flickering on the tables.  Scents of garlic, parmesan, and spices envelope your nostrils.  Low music plays, chords of a cello intertwined with a piano and a Sinatra-sounding voice.  This is quite romantic – Joel did good.  The hostess smiles at both of you.  “Reservation for Miller,” Joel says in his gruff voice.  She grabs two small black books from behind the podium and beckons you two to follow her.  She walks to a table near the windows, two full wine glasses waiting for you at each placemat.  It’s white wine, which is perfect – you hate reds.  How did he know?  “Your server will be with you right away,” she says with a smile.  You thank her.

Joel pulls your chair out so you can sit first, his hand brushing your back as he walks over to his seat.  You pick up your wine glass and give it a sniff.  Sweet, fruity, bubbly – must be moscato.  “Did you get some ideas from Keri?” you inquire, raising an eyebrow at him as you take a sip.  It’s smooth and not overly sweet, with notes of apple, orange, and honey.  He grins.  “I’ll never tell, darlin’.  Only thing that matters is that you enjoy it.”  He cheers your glass and takes a sip, eyes never leaving yours.

You two order some appetizers and entrees when the server comes over.  You’re falling into the rhythm of comfortable conversation, once again.  He asks about school, your family, your early life.  You mention your dad’s death and your rough relationship with your mother, which nearly dissipated after you graduated.

“So, I take it you got a degree, then?” he says, swirling around his glass of wine as he watches you.

“Yep.  Biochemistry,” you say, hoping that doesn’t lull him to sleep.  You half expect him to ask you why you didn’t become a doctor, the way most people do when they hear biochemistry degree.  He sucks in a sharp breath.  “Smart, then.  Too fuckin’ smart for me.  Knew you were, obviously – but that’s proof.  Not an easy road.  Sarah’s doing nursing,” he says.

“Nursing is tough, too – especially in these days post-pandemic.  So much is expected of nurses, but they don’t get the pay or respect they deserve unless they’re traveling nurses,” you add.  He nods.  “She’s wanted to be a nurse ever since she was a little girl.  Stubborn one, my daughter,” he says with a smirk.

“Can’t imagine where she gets it from,” you tease, looking around in mock surprise.  He reaches over to squeeze your hand.

“Shut it, beautiful.  Y’aint that much better, yourself,” he says.  He’s not wrong.  Your showdown with Cedric probably told him as much.

Your food comes and you both spend the rest of the dinner enjoying it and a few more glasses of wine.  You continue getting to know each other in between bites – or during if you’re Joel.  The server comes over with the check and gives it to Joel.  He opens it and reads with no reaction on his face and pulls out his wallet to pay.  You interrupt him by putting a hand on his arm.

“We can split it, if you want,” you say cautiously.  He shakes his head and smiles at you.  “’Preciate it, sweetheart.  But I’m sticking to my roots here.  You deserve a nice night out, and I’m happy to give that to you.”  His words make you smile softly.

After the bill comes back, he walks over to pull your chair out and helps you up.  You peek outside the window and see that it’s dark now, and the rain is gone for good.  “Where to next?” you ask, feigning innocence.  He looks at you in a way that makes your stomach churn.

“Want to come over?  I’d like to ask you to stay if you’re comfortable.  Do you need clothes?” he asks, warm hand curling around your waist as you exit the restaurant.  Thanking your past self for packing some clothes, you shake your head.  “I’m prepared.”  He raises an eyebrow at you.  You smile nervously.

“Expected me to ask ya that, huh?” he says, smirking devilishly.  You nod matter-of-factly.  He laughs and leans in, so his lips are almost touching your ear.  “I always keep my promises, darlin’,” he says in a sexy, low voice, making you clench absolutely nothing.  You shudder.  He opens your door for you and helps you in.

The ride back to Joel’s is quiet, but not in an awkward way.  He lives in the Eagle Run neighborhood of West Omaha – an upper middle-class neighborhood near a big golf course.  He pulls up to a big, beautiful two-story brick house and clicks on a garage door opener hanging on his vanity mirror.  You’re surprised, but should you be?  He is a successful business owner with multiple locations in the U.S., after all.  The front yard is lined with neatly trimmed shrubbery – Joel’s handiwork, you think – bushes of gorgeous flame azaleas, and two large, older maple trees staked in the middle, leaves sporting a beautiful gradient of red to yellow.  He has a Texas Longhorns stone on his front porch that makes you grimace.

“Joel, if we keep seeing each other, that Longhorns stone has got to go.  You’re in Cornhusker country now,” you scold playfully.  He laughs, silently rejoicing at the notion that you want to keep seeing him.  “Darlin’, I’m a true Texas man, and I’m from Austin for Christ’s sake.  You’re not even old enough to see how far back the rivalry goes.  I’ll never like your Huskers,” he chides.  You stick your tongue out at him and open your own door.  He doesn’t protest this time.  He’s got a three-car garage, the two-car space filled with what appears to be a company truck.  “Miller Contracting” is stickered on the back window.  The single-car space has a nice BMW 740i sedan that makes your eyes widen.

“Is this your car, Joel?”  you ask, walking over to examine it.  It has a pearlescent navy-blue coat with a tan leather interior.  Sheepishly, he nods.

“When Tommy and I expanded the business, we finally had the time to realize how well we had been doing.  I decided to treat myself for once – I got Sarah a car and bought this for myself.  Too much, if you ask me, but it’s a sign of how far we’ve come.  Reminds me to keep goin’,” he says, looking at the car appreciatively.  He’s obviously impressed you from the jump, but now you’re curious as to why he donates plasma – he clearly doesn’t need to.

“So, you donate out of the goodness of your heart, then?” you tease.  He laughs, rubbing the back of his neck.  “The money is gonna go to Sarah, so she’s got some fun money.  She works, and I give her money now and then, but want her to understand it all comes with a limit,” he says.  Good dad – teaching his daughter responsibility and sacrificing his time and bodily fluids while doing it.  You nod.  He opens the door to the house and beckons you to go in first.

The door leads into a large laundry room.  He guides you through there and into the kitchen, which makes your jaw drop.  Beautiful, shiny hardwood floors are the first thing you notice – again, you’d be surprised if Joel hadn’t done these himself.  In the middle is an enormous island, with a deep sink and stainless-steel dishwasher.  The refrigerator, also stainless-steel, is probably twice the width of the dinky one in your apartment.  Adjacent to it is a beer and wine fridge, filled with bottles of red and white wine, and tons of Coors Light.  You smirk, thinking Joel was just a whiskey guy.  You bet he has a full bar downstairs with tons of different whiskeys.  Countertops of gorgeous white and black marble draw your attention, and you find yourself running a hand over the top of one instinctively.  Smooth.  Joel admires you while you admire his kitchen.

“Want something to drink, darlin’?” he asks, grabbing two wine glasses out of the cupboard near the fridge.  “Got wine, beer, and your fav’ downstairs,” he adds with a wink.  Whiskey, duh.  You’re not drunk, and your nerves are starting to rein in.  “Wine is good – keep the theme of the night going,” you say, flashing your teeth at him.  They draw his eyes like a magnet, and they flash obsidian.  He pops the cork out of a bottle of some white wine and pours you both a glass.  You walk over and grab the bottle to inspect the label.   Chateau d'Yquem, 2020.  You don’t dare guess how much this cost.  Joel notices your curiosity.

“S’from a client that lives ‘round here,” he says, sauntering over you, glasses in hand.  You nod.  “Oh?  Contracting client or…?” you ponder, smirking at him with one eyebrow raised.  “Let’s just say I’m good with my hands,” he winks at you and hands you a glass.

You take a sip, closing your eyes to examine the flavors.  Sweet citrus hits you first – mango, pineapple, apricot – followed by a rush of sea salt and an almost yeasty flavor.  The wine you’re used to drinking is Barefoot and sickly sweet – this is otherworldly.  You find yourself moaning softly.  “Wow, Joel… that’s – that’s something else,” you say, noticing him white-knuckling the countertop with his free hand, clearly affected by your reaction to the wine.

He puts his glass down and takes his jacket off, walking back to the laundry room to hang it up.  You’re leaning stomach-first against the island, facing what looks like a dining area with some large bay windows.  His footsteps approach you and hands smooth around your waist to latch in front of you, on your stomach.  His warm frame envelopes your back.  You sink into him and lean your head back on his shoulder.  He kisses your neck, squeezing your stomach and breathing in your scent.  Your breath hitches and you clutch his arms.  His mouth moves up your neck to nibble on your earlobe – he remembers your hot spots – and you gasp, tingles cascading down your spine.  He tucks your hair over to the other side and starts working his lips and teeth on your neck and shoulders.

“Fuck – y-you gonna give me the tour, or what?” you sputter as he bites lightly on your shoulder.  He hums and kisses his way back up your neck, stopping his lips right at your ear.  “Good idea, darlin’,” he murmurs.  He lets go of you briefly, taking your hand to lead you through the dining area to the living room.  It’s a giant room, filled with leather couches, a huge TV mounted on the wall, and high vaulted ceilings.

“Living room,” he says monotonously.  You giggle.  You take it he’s not too keen on hosting.  You wind your way to the front of the house near the front door.  He takes you up the stairs, and you marvel at a modern wood pendant chandelier, casting an amber glow on the foyer.  The walls in this part of the house are a navy blue – must be his favorite color.  He walks to French doors a few paces in front of the staircase and pushes one open, clutching your hand with his other hand still.

You’ve entered a large room with dark gray walls – presumably Joel’s.  There’s a king bed in the middle, two beautiful handcrafted wooden nightstands perched at each side.  A smaller wooden pendant light with a fan hangs on the ceiling, which is also vaulted in this room.  In one corner of the room lies a black leather chair, with a plaid handmade quilt hanging over the back.  Paintings of a forest, mountains, and a buffalo line the walls – very Joel-esque.

The other side of the room leads to a bathroom bigger than your entire apartment.  “Jesus, Joel… your house is beautiful,” you say, stepping in the bathroom and marveling at the size.  A Jacuzzi is on your right, two sinks on your left with a giant LED mirror hanging above them.  Next to the Jacuzzi is a walk-in tiled shower with opposing shower heads and a generous seating area.  You raise your eyebrows at the thought of the activities that could be had in here.

Joel watches you learn the anatomy of his bedroom and bathroom, admiring your childlike curiosity.  You’re beautiful, very much so, but something in your eyes catches his interest – the way you study things.  Eyes inquisitively scanning each part of the room, hands testing whatever theory is in your brain.  He wonders what you see.  You stop studying and turn, catching him staring.  The way he looks at you makes you freeze.  Desire, admiration, amusement.  His eyes travel up and down your frame.  You take slow steps toward him, eyes never leaving his.

“Have I told you that you’re fuckin’ beautiful?” he says hoarsely, hands latching on to your hips as you get close to him.

“I don’t think so…” you say, eyes looking up and to the side in mock confusion.  He pulls you flush to him, and you turn to face him.

“Can’t stop starin’ at you ‘cause you’re so goddamn pretty,” he says in a low, gravelly voice, tilting his head toward you and leaning in.  Your eyes flick down to his parted lips, yours doing the same as you get closer.

When your lips meet, finally, a flame is lit inside you.  Passion overtakes both of you, mouths opening and tongues tangling.  His hands are gripping your hips, your ass, your waist – yours find home in his curls and tug lightly.  You’re reminded of how much he enjoys that when he moans into your mouth.  You’re dripping already, and still, he’s barely touched you.

He picks you up and you break the kiss momentarily with a yelp, causing him to chuckle.  He leads you to the bed and lays you down, hands smoothing down your torso and legs as he stands to remove his shoes.  You watch him quietly, chest heaving in anticipation.  He returns to you as if he can’t bear another moment not glued to you and kisses you, hard.  His teeth graze your lower lip and pull, making you moan.  He kisses the corner of your mouth, the curve of your jaw, down your throat and stops at your clothed collarbone.

“Sit up, sweetheart,” he orders softly.  You obey.  Staring deeply into your eyes, he reaches behind you and pulls the zipper of your dress down.  You remember now that you chose to forgo a bra, but you made sure to wear some sexy lace panties that are soaked through by now.  He pulls the dress off as you reach your arms out, a low growl escaping his throat at the sight of your naked upper body.  “Good god, girl,” he breathes in awe, pulling the dress down your legs to expose your black lace thong.  Black was a good choice – the puddle seeping through is invisible—for now.  You lie back on the bed as he admires your curves and exposed skin.  You see his hardness poking through his pants and his eyes are molten.

Not wanting to go another moment without touching you, he crawls on the bed and kisses you again, one hand curling under your head to support you, the other snaking up your stomach to palm one of your breasts.  You let out a moan as he kneads it, pinching your nipple before he moves to the other one.  He starts kissing down your neck again, down your sternum, moving down further to suck one nipple into his mouth, moaning at the taste.  Your back arches and your hands knead his scalp as you whine softly at the pleasure.  He suckles the other nipple, one of his hands skimming down your stomach to your thigh.  The new touch makes you jump a bit.  He lets go of your nipple with a pop and looks up at you.

“Y’alright, baby?” he says, genuinely concerned.  Smoothing hair out of his face, you nod.  “Haven’t been touched there in a while,” you admit, cheeks warming.  He comes back up to kiss your lips softly.  “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he says, forehead resting against yours.  You cup his face with your hands and give him a quick kiss.

“I know,” you whisper, lost in his chocolate gaze.  He starts kissing down your torso again and stops once he reaches lace.  You’re squirming a bit, and he peeks up at you, silently asking for your permission.  You nod.  He kisses the inside of your right thigh, ending with a nip before moving to the left one.  Your hips are already grinding in anticipation of what he’ll do next.  Looking in your eyes, he hooks his thumbs in the waistband and pulls them down, leaving you completely bare.

“Jesus Christ… so perfect,” he breathes, admiring all of you.  Your pussy is glistening, the mess he’s been creating finally visible to him.  “You’re fuckin’ soaked, baby – you want me this much?”

“Yes, Joel,” you pant, needy.  He growls again.

“You got no idea how much I want you, darlin’,” he says, shuffling down on the bed and hooking one of your legs over his shoulder.  He places wet kisses on your mound and on the sides of your core, not quite touching you where you want him.  You groan.  You feel his smile curve on your inner thigh.

“Tell me, baby, talk to me,” he teases, watching you as his lips inch closer to your cunt.  Your back arches again, frustrated with anticipation and desire.  “I want your mouth on me, Joel,” you whine.

When his tongue finally darts out to taste you, you gasp, hands flying to grip his hair.  He moans at how good you taste, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your core.  He starts with slow, flat strokes of his tongue up your center, occasionally stopping to gather more spit and slick at your entrance.  You moan, louder this time, his pace and the warmth of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.  He stops at your bundle of nerves and sucks lightly, which nearly snaps you in half.  His hands hold your hips in an iron grip, preventing you from being excused from the pleasure he’s so willingly giving you.  He pulls his mouth away briefly to look at you, lips and chin glistening.

“Fuck, you taste so goddamn good,” he rumbles, removing one hand from your hip to slowly open you up.  You moan at the stretch – not only has it been a while for you, but he’s got thick fingers.  “So tight, baby – think you can take another?” he says, watching your pussy grip and wet his finger.  You moan in approval, head and eyes rolled back.

“Look at me,” he orders, breathless.  “I wanna see you.”  You lift your head up to watch him as he slips another finger in and crooks them both, your eyes widening and mouth falling open at the expansion of your walls.  You can’t even imagine what his dick will feel like.  He looks absolutely wrecked – as if seeing you undone like this is pushing him to his own edge.

“Good girl,” He praises you, making you swoon.  He latches his mouth onto your pussy again, picking up the pace with his fingers as he licks and sucks on you.  He moans as he eats you out, which only gets you to the top faster – knowing that he loves doing this to you.  Your legs are starting to shake and flex, putting him in a headlock.  He’s pumping his fingers in and out of you, each bump of your G-spot sending white-hot pleasure up your stomach.

“Come on, baby – give it to me,” he says, mouth still on your clit.  You’re gripping his collar, hair, back of his neck, whatever you can grab as you get closer and closer to the peak.

“Fuck, Joel!  I’m so close—” you moan, your breaths coming out in quick, heavy heaves.  He takes this as a challenge, suckling on your folds while moving his head from side to side.  His beard chafes at the skin on your inner thighs.  His fingers curl upward inside you as they continue their ravaging, and you’re done for.  Finally, the band inside you snaps – leaving you trembling and spitting a barrage of Joel’s name and curse words as you come, hard.  He’s loving every minute of it, lapping you up while your muscles spasm around his fingers, legs threatening to crush his skull.  He’s groaning as he watches you come, in awe of your beauty and the pleasure painted on your features.  He only stops when your legs loosen their grip on his shoulders and head, another growl leaving him as he kisses his way up to your body to your lips.  You moan softly as you taste yourself on him.

You realize he’s still fully clothed and reach down to unbutton his shirt.  He quickens the process by removing his belt and then his pants and boxers, struggling to pull them over his rock-hard cock.  Mouths still slotted together, he presses himself flush against you, his naked body warming yours.  You reach down to stroke him, a moan escaping from his lips.  Precome oozes down the head of his cock and you rub it up and down his length.  He’s thick.

“Baby, be careful – I want this to last as long as possible,” he pants, looking just as wrecked as earlier.  You surrender and let go of him, your hands gripping his back as he continues to lick into your mouth while grinding his hips on yours.  The head of his cock strokes your wet folds, causing you both to moan.  He breaks the kiss to look you in the eyes, the only sound in the room your labored breaths.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me – you ready, darlin’?” He asks.  You love that he wants nothing more than to make you feel good.  You nod, biting your lip in excitement.  He sits back on his heels and guides his cock through your folds a few more times, watching you writhe.  He smirks.  “I know, baby.  I’ll give you what you need, don’t worry.”

His cock notches at your entrance and starts to slip in, slowly.  Leaning over you, he grabs your right leg and grapples it over his hip as you both watch each other feel one another for the first time.  Both of your mouths agape, you moan in unison as he slowly sinks further into you.  It’s nothing like either of you have ever felt or imagined—your bodies seem like they’re made for the other.  Each inch he gives you sends shockwaves shooting up your back, and the combination of your warmth, wetness, and tightness is an entirely new sensation for him.

“So beautiful, baby – fuck, you are perfect,” he groans as he fills you up.  The stretch and girth of him rip you apart at first, but the pain fades to achy pleasure as your muscles acclimate to his size.  He’s still watching you, waiting to see what you look like when he’s all the way in.  The tip of his cock hits your cervix, and you cry out, eyes squeezing shut momentarily.  His hand moves to your jaw, pulling your forehead to his and forcing your eyes open.  “Come on, baby – need to see those gorgeous eyes.”

Your walls are spasming, the stretch of him, combined with the pleasure and anticipation of your first time together, overwhelming your muscles with adrenaline.  He reads your mind.  “Relax, baby girl, I got ya,” he soothes, leaning down to kiss you as he slowly starts to pull out of you.  You will yourself to relax just a bit, your body rewarding you with micro-tremors of pleasure.  Still watching you, he quickens his thrusts.  You’re reaching the peak again, brows furrowed and hands gripping him so tightly he might have bruises tomorrow.

He sits up and grasps your hips as he pounds into you harder, the new angle and pressure pushing you over the fucking edge.  His eyes travel from your face to your body beneath him and he tries to commit every snapshot to memory—he can’t stop looking at you, can’t forget this.  Your breasts bouncing with each thrust, the curve of your abdomen and hips, the look of pure bliss on your face—he loves every second of it.

“Gimme another one, baby, know you can do it,” He groans, feeling your muscles gripping him as he continues to pound into you.  The room is filled with an orchestra of skin slapping skin, curses, and cries of pleasure from both of you.   Pleasure and pain intertwine to stretch the band inside you once again, your second orgasm on the brink.  Joel is close, too – eyebrows threaded together, teeth gritted, hands bruising your hipbones, thrusts becoming less and less uniform.

“Fuck, you feel so fuckin’ good, gonna make me come,” he praises, looking into your eyes.  You’re so close, legs trembling again and nails clawing at his forearms, vision blurring as pleasure overtakes the rest of your senses – but you manage to keep your eyes on him.

“Where d’you want it, baby?  I’m close,” he pants, trying desperately to hold on so you can reach another high.

“Inside me—oh, fuck—I’m on the pill,” you respond, trying your hardest to speak coherently.  His eyes darken for a moment, thrilled at the thought of filling you up.  He slows his pace slightly and increases the pressure of his thrusts, and you come hard, high-pitched moans of his name replacing normal speech.  That does it for him.  He spills inside you, each contraction of your pussy sucking more spend out of his cock.  He’s rambling as he empties himself inside you – good girl, you did so good for me, so beautiful when you come.  You’ve never experienced this magnitude of pleasure with someone else, nonetheless felt so connected physically and emotionally.  He collapses on you while still inside you, mouth finding yours for a searing kiss.  He pulls back after a while and brushes your hair from your face, cradling the crown of your head in his hands.  “Told ya I keep my promises,” he says, kissing your forehead softly.  You hum in delight.

You both lie there for a moment, relishing in what both of you can say was the best sex ever.  Joel finally pulls out of you, bringing some of him with him.  He gets up and walks toward the bathroom, returning with a warm towel to clean you up.  You squirm as he wipes you up, still sensitive and thighs raw from his beard scratching you there.

“Sorry, baby,” he apologizes, smiling contritely at you as he wipes up the last remnants of him and you from your thighs.  He returns the towel to the bathroom and comes back to bed, pulling you into his chest, arm draped around your midsection.  You’re about to doze off as Joel turns you to face him, eyes crinkled with worry.  Concerned, you prop yourself on your elbow, mirroring him.

“You okay, Joel?” you ask.  He smiles genuinely at you.  “Yeah, I just—,” he sighs, pushing a stray hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek.  “Didn’t want ya to think I brought ya here just for this.”  His expression is so pained, so worried.  You lean in to kiss him gently on the lips.  “I know, and I didn’t come here just for this,” you remind him, “Truly.”

“I know, baby.  I know we just met, and I’m an old man, but—but you’re special, and I feel like this is different,” he says, staring into your eyes with so much affection it makes you want to cry.  “I want to make sure I do this right.”  He grabs your hand and plants a soft kiss on it.

“I trust you,” you say.  And you do – and he believes you.

Taglist: @burntheedges <3

[sistermclarens]

Did Oscar break his rib at Silverstone 2024?

Tldr: probably not but it's not impossible. The most likely place would be sliding off track in lap 19. Debatably his breathing sounds different specifically in his radios immediately after the checkered flag. If you've got more race and/or medical knowledge than me (a very low bar to clear), those are the places I'd suggest you check first to make your own judgement.

I rewatched all 3 free practices, qualifying, and the race as well as listen to his race radio to see if there were any obvious spots he might have broken a rib, but nothing really came up. Below the cut I've noted the few places where the commentators indicate that he's doing poorly and given my thoughts on what might have been causing him issues, but mostly I think these issues can be put down to the on-and-off rain across the race weekend.

To me, the 11 am time for his ultrasound (thanks to @velvetsainz for pointing out that it's an ultrasound, not an x-ray) doesn't really point to him having broken it during any time during Silverstone weekend. The race was at 3 pm BST and lasted ~2 hrs. Even with the additional time allotted for interviews and the fan stage events, the team could easily get him into an urgent care or ER that night if he needed to be checked immediately. Most of the comments on broken ribs (both here and via googling) seem to indicate that they're super painful, especially when breathing, so I'm not sure why he and the team would ignore it overnight if he was in that kind of pain. It seems more likely that he broke it sometime the morning of the ultrasound (possibly having strained/weakened it during Silverstone to make the break more likely). HOWEVER. I can't cleanly rule out that somehow he broke his rib during Silverstone weekend, was feeling only low-level pain, assumed it would go away with rest, and then Monday morning was still in enough pain (either pain not lessening or pain getting worse) to decide to get checked.

Qualifying round 2: the commentators mention that his car is "a bit twitchy" at the beginning of one of his last flying laps but there's no other indication that they see anything off. Given that it was raining at the end of Q1 (about 10 mins before the comment), it seems a lot more likely that this is because of slick tires on the wet track.

Lap 19: Oscar goes left off the track in the rain and rejoins. Lewis and George had this exact same run off ~2 secs beforehand, so it's unlikely (tho not impossible) that skidding off track here put enough force into his harness to break his rib. (Lando also has this same run off in the next lap.) Normally you're going to be pushed in the opposite direction of a turn by centrifugal force, so turning to the left should really put harness strain on the right side of his ribs. But if the car started hydroplaning at some point in the turn then in theory he could have been jolted to the left at this point. The camera shot is not really close enough for me to tell if I think he really would have been jolted left OR right tho since he kind of ends up cutting the turn into more of a diagonal by going off onto the runoff asphalt. His race engineer doesn't even mention the fact that he went off track in over the radio despite them having a long back and forth this lap about where the track is wettest so it doesn't seem like anyone on pit wall was particularly worried by his skid. File this under unlikely but not impossible I guess.

Lap 29: Oscar slip&slides all over the track and into the pit lane, but again I think this is down to driving on slick tires in the rain. His race engineer warns him over the radio that his front tires are overheating, which I think also helps account for why he loses so much time in this lap. Once he pits for inters he's fine again despite having lost 4 positions.

Lap 52: In his post-flag radio, Oscar does sound maybe out of breath compared to other radios of his I've listened to--he's kind of taking heavy deep breaths in between speaking. But it's such a minor noise that I can't even be sure I'm not imagining it or that it's not part of the car noises 😂 it's not something I heard at any earlier part of his radio so if it is his breathing I'd guess it's just part of the adrenaline comedown post-race.

[stopthatfool]

BREAKING NEWS! Ice and Mav STUCK in a centrifuge! (do NOT let them out.)

lock them away. they need to be put away. LOCK THEM UP! i put them in a centrifuge. they're gonna be spun around so fast that all their liquids, gasses, fluids blah blah blah are going to separate and then i'm going to figure out what's wrong with them.

[stuck-in-the-ghost-zone]

HI. GOOD EVENIBG. WE SHOULD TALK ABT TIDALWAVE!!!! we should talk about tidalwave. im thinking about them so hard & also pingponging btwn nebulous Them Thoughts & nhw virion (trying so hard 2 work on this damn fic!!!)...... we r in the centrifuge together. idk what it is abt sunday nights what do they put in them. anyway. holds microphone up. tidalwave..............

👉 go here. go in the centrifuge.

GOD. man. I'm like. i don't even know what to SAY about them. I'm just Thinking About Them u know?!?!?!?! like. they're in my mind. whats betta than this. guys bein dudes.

idfk I guess I will talk about nhw bc that's the context I've been thinking abt them the most in lately. god. not 2 talk abt my own fic forever and ever but smth that I'm rlly proud of/rlly hits me is like... the Moment where mark realizes the extent of what happened to him? like. he looks down at his hand and realizes he basically just stabbed himself with claws he didn't realize he had and his hand is too big and is scales and the reason he hasn't been able to stand is because he has like 10 lbs of extra tail weight and I think that all hits him like a truck and just. takes the fight out of him for a second . and that's the ONLY reason he lets tide sit him back down and bandage his hand. he doesn't Really need that, the cuts are shallow and by the time he sits down they've stopped bleeding anyway but he still sits through it bc it gives them both something solid and physical to focus on that isn't the billion other terrible things going on. I never think of tidalwave as being soft that feels too out of character for either of them but like. this is the closest they get to that. to me. Just like a second of quiet where . they're not talking about things they should be talking about but there's some sort of physicality nonetheless.... man.

also bc i love 2 talk about the unethical human experimentation. I love love love love giving tide the entire range of reactions to overlords shit. he gets to see Marie who seems to have basically lost all of her humanity and behaves more like an animal. to Marlon who is unresponsive and shut off and needs to be in basically a glorified fish bowl to function. to Ollie who is completely there mentally and very willing to cooperate and seems to be dealing with everything okay... but he can't communicate because of freak bug mouth. and i think he absorbs all of this information and internalizes it and when he looks at mark he can't help but wonder where he falls on that range . Mark doesn't seem like he's lashing out like a scared animal backed into a corner (at least. no more than usual) but the physical changes are There and Obvious and sometimes when he gets worked up his voice sounds like an alligator hissing (these videos are extremely good btw) so it's like.... what else changed. tide doesn't even KNOW about his vision yet. (<< authors note here like. I do think marks mannerisms will be different. not in huge ways. but the sensitivity to cold affects him wayyy more than he lets on. makes it harder to do things. which is not great for a guy who needs to be doing things constantly or else he'll explode! which makes him irritated by things more easily. I feel like he will have more of a tendency to snap at things whereas before he'd be content to just fume about them in silence. like when u see a snake call coiled up with its head back and u know it could either strike really fast or it's just trying to threaten you. or how like alligators seem like they should be really slow but then they can death roll and lunge and snap their heads around really fast. sorry i need 2 make that man animalistic or ill die)

canon tidalwave i need 2 know desperately how they got tides powers back. i know the most likely thing is that like. the depowering was just a mental block tide had to get over . but in my heart they went on a roadtrip. bizly please. i know you said tidalwave would never get married but that's okay they dont have to. they're already divorced. give me the road trip.

[eliotquillon]

Would you write any flirtatious chase-cameron banter? Preferably set at a late night in the hospital after everyone's gone home and they're stuck doing labs, looking after a patient and they're a teensy bit delirious so it's weirdly also very honest and vulnerable.

anon i bet you thought i forgot about this req didn't you. NEVER FEAR. this actually took me a while to figure out what to do with (i love writing banter but flirtatious banter is scary especially for a 'new' fandom) (i still consider myself new to this fandom) but here we go. set vaguely during a non-specific part of fwb era--if pressed i'll say between 3x15 and 3x16, but the details are not relevant lol:

House, of course, leaves PPTH at 5pm on the dot with strict orders to keep running lab stains and PCR tests on their latest patient until they get a positive result. “Not like you three have anything better to do,” he calls over his shoulder, while Foreman rolls his eyes and Chase tries to catch Cameron’s eye. She’s not paying attention–too busy adjusting her glasses tiredly while she peers into a microscope, hair ruffled in a way that reminds him of her rolling out of his bed that morning–and Chase tells himself he’s not disappointed. They’re not together. It’s just sex. It shouldn’t matter that they had half-formed plans to get Indian takeout and play a drinking game while watching old episodes of General Hospital together that was almost definitely going to lead to–

“Alright, I’m out,” Foreman declares at midnight. “This isn’t fair, I wore the beeper last night. One of us needs to be awake for the differential tomorrow.” “Nice excuse,” Chase mutters darkly. “You mind bringing us up some coffee from the cafeteria before you go, Judas?”

“That’d be great,” Cameron adds, all faux-earnest charm, and Foreman actually has the grace to look a little bit guilty at that. He leaves the coffees on the lab benches–definitely not best practice, but nor is making three overworked doctors run labs all night–and leaves with the promise to relieve them at 6am if they come up with no further answers. Chase, of course, doesn’t believe him for a second, but this seems to pacify Cameron; she shoots him a suspiciously sunny smile, and wishes him good night.

As soon as Foreman’s out the door, she says, “And then there were two.” “And then there were two,” Chase echoes, eyeing her warily from where he’s waiting for the centrifuge to recalibrate. “Not quite what I meant when I asked if you wanted to hang out tonight.” That’s usually how they put it, in public–do you want to hang out later? Wanna grab some dinner? It’s really more for Chase’s sanity than Cameron’s; she seems unusually blasé about the whole friends-with-benefits situation, which is fine, honestly, but is it so crazy to just want to keep things to themselves for a while? To not want the hospital gossip mill offering their opinion on what is, objectively, a private decision between two consenting adults? And it’s not like Chase knows how to phrase it any other way. Cameron, if she had her own way, would keep being forthright about it: want to have sex later? Cool. Collected. And it isn’t that Chase has an issue with it, exactly. It’s just as she said it would be, after all. No strings attached. Easy peasy. But there’s just something so clinical about it. It feels strange, especially from Cameron, who he always assumed would be the flowers-and-dinner type.

“We could,” Cameron says now, pushing back her chair and spinning to face him. “If you wanted.” “You don’t mean,” Chase starts, fighting his flush at the thought of Cameron and sex and the fucking pathology lab, and Cameron grins from ear to ear.

“Hang out,” she finishes, simple and guileless. “I guess we’re doing it anyway, right? No harm in taking a quick break to chat.”

“That is not what you meant,” Chase accuses. God, she would probably kill him for thinking it, but there really is something beautiful about Cameron in the lab. Even when she’s exhausted and frustrated there’s a part of her that just lights up when given a microscope and a set of slides, like she’s some overeager freshman biology major donning a lab coat for the first time. It’s lit up right now: in the slightly manic gleam in her eye, in her rolled-up sleeves, in her glasses set half-askew on the edge of her nose. “Anyway, we don’t have time to chat. Unless you’re planning on being trapped in here with me all night.”

“And that would be so terrible,” Cameron hums, dangling her legs invitingly. She’d kill him for thinking this, too, but at this precise moment she seems so…normal. Not normal as in ordinary, quotidian, but normal as in not a woman with dead-husband-levels of hang-ups around relationships; normal as in the kind of woman Chase thinks he knows how to flirt with. It’s an illusion, but it’s almost like he could step right between the open vee of her legs and grin down at her teasingly, and almost like she would let him. 

Not that he wants to. Not that she would let him. It’s just sex. Just convenience. Just…microwave pizza.

“So very terrible,” Chase agrees, turning back to the centrifuge so he doesn’t have to keep looking at her and thinking about it. “Good thing we’re not actually locked in together.” “That could probably be arranged,” Cameron says. He can’t see her anymore, but he imagines her smiling again, polishing her glasses on the edge of her coat and her bangs falling into her eyes, the way she looks at him sometimes when they’re walking out to her car together on the way out of work and their fingers accidentally brush together and Chase can pretend that she’s thinking about holding his hand. He thinks that’d be nice, sometime. Just holding Cameron’s hand–not out of any hidden romance, but just for the sake of it. He knows her hands so well, the cracked-dry knuckles and fingertips from scrubbing them multiple times a day and the faintly oily, lavender-scented sheen of her hand cream that always sticks to her palms, and she always holds his face, his shoulders, his hips, but never his hands. “Get someone to call in a bomb threat.” “Call in our own bomb threat,” Chase raises weakly.

“Pretend I’m holding you hostage.” “Hey, why are you holding me hostage?” Chase demands, glancing at her over his shoulder in an accusatory fashion. “I’m the man!”

“I’m a femme fatale,” Cameron smirks, “and you were the one who said we didn’t have time to chat.”

Their pagers go off then; their patient is coding. By the time she’s stable, House is harassing them via speakerphone about test results and his latest epiphany, and it’s like the hours in the lab never really happened. By the time Foreman slinks back in, arguably in a worse mood after two hours’ sleep than he’d be if he’d never slept in the first place, the silly lab banter has entirely slipped from Chase’s mind while Cameron gnaws frustratedly on her bottom lip, and he isn’t thinking about it at all.

Honestly. He isn’t.

[waddlewaddlewaddlewaddle]

Over my head (Miguel ‘o’ Hara x Reader)

Chapter 6

Credits:chos_1129 on Instagram for the headline art.

Pairing: Miguel x reader

Summary: y/n is a kind hearted nurse who’s life gets turned upside down as she get fired from one the most prestigious hospitals in NYC , desperate , she start filing job applications wherever. Coincidentally a stressed Miguel is looking for a nurse due to a big amount of spider people getting injured due to the surprisingly large amount of anomalies happening in the spider verse. What could go wrong is these two meet?

Themes: ✎slow burn ( I think), child care (fluff) and a little bit of angst

Mutual pining

✎office romance (¿)

Hidden romance

✎Smut available as story progresses.

Dom Miguel x sub/bratty reader

✎Stubborn, Ill tempered Miguel.

✎ Angelic reader .

It girl reader.

✎I try to be as accurate as possible.

English is not my first language so bare with me.

✎badass stoic x sweet empath.

Og spanish speaker so be prepared for steamy dialogue :3

Pairing: Miguel x reader

For previous or future chapters check out masterlist.

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After devouring last night's overtime fee, you started to prepare some supplies so you could keep them at hand after that you started to check out the new microhematocrit centrifuge you purchased with the company’s card so you could run some anemia tests, you suspected many spider people suffered this condition due to poor nutrition and lack of sleep.

You pulled up some blood tests you had in the fridge and look at the machine in front of you.

After some seconds of thought, you concluded that you didn’t know how to operate this machine, and you didn’t remember your lab testing classes since your specialty didn’t require it much. To your bad luck, your bots that usually took care of this job were busy digitalizing some handwritten patient charts.

You were too occupied trying to figure out how the machine worked that you failed to notice a large figure creeping into the room, you only noticed its presence when you felt its aura tower behind you.

-“Need a hand?”-Questioned a well-known husky voice while he looked down at you.

As you turned around your nose almost met with Miguel’s chest, due to this you quickly inhaled his scent; your nose picked up the same odor from his car mixed with a mint soap. You took a step back to create some personal space but that made your back bump against the lab table, soon your gaze captured Miguel dressed in a black t-shirt that hung tight on his biceps paired with cargo pants the same color. This amazing view made you a little flustered, how were you supposed to act cool when such a handsome man was seducing each one of your senses?

You quickly regained your stance and smirked at him and replied to him in a mocking tone.

-“What do you know about this?”

“-A lot, actually.”- He replied while opening up a hidden lid in the centrifuge before organizing the four blood samples diagonal to each other, as he finished doing this he put the lid back on so he could then move the knobs skillfully which lead to the machine started to work like magic to your eyes.-“what would your patients say if they knew their dear nurse doesn’t know how to operate a simple centrifuge. To save you the embarrassment I’ll keep quiet, it’ll be our little secret.”

You looked back at Miguel who was grinning like that was the best comeback of the century, unbeknownst to you his smile was partially because he could help you out to compensate for last night's care.

You decided to continue playing along with his game.

-“Didn’t know they taught how to operate lab machines at spider camp.”

He let out an unamused chuckle and replied.

-“I might have to report you to HR for belittling me, lll let you know that I used to work as a Geneticist; so give me some credit .”

-“Wait we have Hr?”-You questioned.

-“I am HR.”

Your eyes glared at him unimpressed.

-“Somebody got up on the right side of the bed today. Anyway, I know you keeping my darkest secret isn’t gonna come out for free so what can I help you with ”- You joked while returning to your duties.

Soon Miguel’s face returned to the serious Expression you were used to.

-“I need you to remove my splint, there’s probably going to be some anomalies that need my attention today and the foil from the splint is messing up some features from My suit.”

Your heart sank a little when you noticed he didn’t come to visit you, he came only to be able to exercise his duty without any impediments even if it meant tossing your advice to the side.

-“I am not gonna do that Miguel, you may ask another healthcare provider to do it for you but I don’t want anything that could happen to you to be on my conscience.”-You calmly said in a monotone voice.

Miguel took a step back and crossed his arms while tilting his head to the side, “No” was a word that he was not used to hearing; he hoped you ignored his blank stare while he figure out how to erase that god-awful word from your vocabulary.

-“No…?”

-“No.”

-“Why not, it’s not like it’s your business anyway.”- He coldly argued.

You turned your neck in a snap in reaction to the return of his rude attitude, you glared at him in disbelief. You thought you were starting to get close but you quickly realized that Miguel was not a man of friends.

-“I’m not even gonna waste my breath answering that. Please leave my infirmary If that’s all you’re gonna request.”

-“You really think it’s that easy to get rid of me?”

Before you almost opened your mouth to start a quarrel Peter Parker walked in a hurry with mayday climbing on his head.

-“Hey Buddy! Why aren’t you answering your watch, Jessica needs some help on Earth 9214. Some sort of jumbo octopus.”

Miguel proceeded to scrunch his nose in confusion.

-“That's strange it didn’t beep at all, I guess you’ll have to lend me your mask cause someone’s being a brat and won’t let me do my job.”

Peter looked at him with a microscopic smile.

One tap.

Two taps.

6 Taps.

Nothing.

Miguel’s watch didn’t respond , it acted like it had been frozen, Miguel called Lyla through Peter’s watch to get to the bottom of this accident, the strawberry blonder eccentrically explained that watches with too much use have a chance of malfunctioning when not properly being able to download a new upgrade, hence the reason of this shut down of communications of other feature.

-“Oh no, what should we do now?”- cried out Peter in fake agony.

-“Are you a witch or something? I bet you have something to do with this.”-Murmured Miguel while he glared at you; trying to work his gadget you resigned to giving him the ugliest stare possible.

Lyla gave him a side eye, artificially nervous that he may catch onto them and make her dress in a hideous uniform, so she decided to meddle in the argument a bit before he realizes she froze his watches because Peter convinced her that if he got a break he would stop being such a pain in the ass.

-“Well I guess it can’t be helped! Guess I gotta go, keep an eye on Mayday will ya.”- Peter threw the baby at Miguel with full certainty that he would catch her then Peter disappeared with Lyla in a blink of a portal.

You looked over at the pink-cheeked baby with hair as fiery as her personality, the little girl traced Miguel's cheekbones while poking his nostril and some other random parts of his face which made your heart soften.

-“If you want you can leave her with me, you don’t look like a kid's kinda guy.”-you murmured this out not forgetting how rude he was to you earlier.

-“That kinda guy or not, you shouldn’t betray a parent's trust if they leave you in care of their most prized being, so you best believe I’m not letting her out of my sight until he gets back.”-He responded while fixing the collar on maydays shirt.

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After three hours of heavy-duty child care you and Miguel left your differences behind, it was time for Mayday’s mid-day nap but she wouldn’t sleep even tho she wouldn’t stop yawning and rubbing her eyes.

-“If we don’t get her to bed in half an hour, she’s gonna be an inconsolable cranky mess by the looks of it.”- You warned.

—“Let's turn the lights off, maybe that’ll make her sleepy.”

As soon as the lights came off Miguel positioned Mayday's head on her should while he slowly patted her back, his mouth let out a song made out of soft sh shhhh.

You felt bad for misjudging him earlier, you finally accepted that he was a man of responsibility but he didn’t acknowledge that stampeding over anyone to fulfill his duty was truly not the best option. Your heart melted at such cute sight; I mean it’s a small baby and a big man, how were you supposed to resist???

He walked around the room hoping the bounce of his steps would help rock the baby better, Mayday was on the brink of slumber she just needed a final step to fall asleep.

You brainstormed what could finally push her to sleep, and suddenly an idea came to you. You ran out of the infirmary looking for peters bag in the lockers, finally, you found a dark red tote baby bag which contained what you were looking for, some formula and a bottle.

After a few minutes you managed to get back to the infirmary in silence, you signaled to Miguel to lay her down on the bed, and after he did you gave her the bottle which she held down on her own, when she was halfway through bottle her sucking slowed down to end up stopping, with this you realized she finally fell asleep.

You and Miguel’s back physically relaxed, he gave you a thumbs up before being two stools from the desk near Mayday’s bed so you could both keep an eye on her while she slept.

-“You did pretty well today.”- You let out a warm smile.

-“Only doing my job.”- He joked.

-“I didn’t know you were good with kids sorry I miss judged you.”

-“For better or for worse; I’m a box of surprises, I don’t blame you I wasn’t as cordial as I could be today, I’m just not used to people looking out for me. That’s all.”

-“Guess we will be getting to know each other a lot from now on.”

-“You want to learn about me?”- He questioned with a small grin.

-“Why not? Here let’s do a dynamic, I ask you a question then you’ll ask me a question.”

-“Sure, but only because I’m burning time.”

You laid your head on the bed after asking Miguel the dumbest question known to humankind which he shortly responded with a lengthy reply.

In the middle of his storytelling, he noticed you fell asleep, he went to the storage room and brought down a blanket so he could lay on your back while you dozed off, he wanted to stay up and keep guard but after seeing you sleep so peacefully while taking a long deep breath, so Miguel decided to give himself a break and lay his head right next to yours so he could use his arm as a pillow.

Before he knew it he rested his eyes and fell asleep, for the next hour you two laid face to face; enjoying the silence and the contrast of each other’s warmth with the cool breeze of the air conditioner

That hour Miguel slept with all the tranquility and peace of the world.

A/n: another day another slay.literally 2 weeks felt

like a week sorry , love y’all kiss kiss 💋