#like. in some of these cases yes I /KNOW/ it was not meant to come across like that!!! but y'all accept that as a valid type of media

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been trying to focus on thinking about things I enjoy about the idea of the TWST anime. And regarding overblots, I think an anime version would really help illustrate (even more) how terrifying the process is. I really like how the manga shows Riddle's OB, and I love anime as a medium, so I'm pretty hyped to see how it will be conveyed in it.

I really hope they accentuate the horror of it- I'm aware that they might not go all in w the horror like I would personally like, but the thought still excites me. What kind of music will they play? Will the animation change like it does in some animes when the characters are distressed (wobbly lines, glitchy effects)...? What sort of directions will the voice actors get? I mean, they already voiced the game, but anime gives them more room to do voice stuff. I'm really hyped for this aspect tbh...

And I'm also excited for the possibility of dubs, since I'm quite a fan of the whole dubbing world. (I know some ppl have their fears about this last possibility, but in my case even if it turns out to not be so good, I think we could still have a good time w something like that. Plus I've seen some popular eng dub actors hyped about the anime and wanting to be casted for certain characters)

I also wanted to apologize for my previous ask ᕙ⁠(⁠⇀⁠‸⁠↼⁠‶⁠)⁠ᕗ I already did so in the comments, but I felt bad about doomposting on your inbox. My mind's first reaction is usually to see the negative first and become anxious, and it's something I'm working on, but it sometimes goes out of hand. But now that a bit has passed, and specially thanks to your advice, I can sit down and try to focus on the things that excite me rather than the ones that scare me. Sure, building too much expectation could backfire at the end— but as you said, we have little to no information at this point. So I think focusing on the things I'd like to see is a better usage of my time. If they turn out to disappoint me... That's something I'll worry about next year, I'll suppose. I'm still a bit anxious and scared, but there's also lots of things I'm hyped for. I'll try to take your advice and focus on those. 🫂 Sorry if my previous negativity made you uncomfortable.

[Referencing this news! Asker’s prior post here.]

I’ve seen a lot of fans speculating that the OB transformation sequences will resemble magical girl ones! While that’s a fun idea, I do feel like it makes more sense for the anime to portray OB as something scary and all-consuming, similar to how it is depicted at the end of animated dorm commercials and in the manga. For the characters experiencing them, it’s not meant to be glamorous… All that agony, the dripping ink leaking out of their orifices and dripping like blood. Overblot looks incredibly horrific, and I think that should come through in the animation—whether they change the usual style for these segments or keep it the same.

I think the anime would reuse (or maybe do remastered versions of?) the Twst soundtrack for a lot of the show. The compositions are already there, so might as well. Maybe experiencing the anime will help to make the music more memorable, since it seems the game soundtrack alone isn’t doing it for some fans.

No clue about the JP voice cast; I did see some people worrying that they could replace the game’s voice cast for the anime, but as I’ve mentioned already, that’s an unfounded claim. If the usual VAs are there, surely they won’t just reuse the already recorded lines from the game?? 😂 I’d think they’d at least have to rerecord those based on how the script and its scenes are laid out, plus additional dialogue to fill in the gaps (such as new scenes).

No confirmation of an English (or other language) dubs yet either! (Again, this is another topic related to the anime that sparks worry, but I must stress that it’s pointless to get into a tizzy about something that isn’t concrete yet.) But yes, I’ve already seen English VAs expressing interest in certain characters; Daman Mills wants to audition for Malleus, Alejandro Saab has made it known he has Twst on his radar and wants to voice Leona, etc. (The latter has done Twst dorm leader impressions for fun before; I think Mr. Saab could make for a decent Leona or even Malleus!)

Don't worry about the previous ask ^^ I think it's better that we discuss these things with one another rather than post or tweet into the void and allow those negative feelings to fester. If you want to view it in a different way, think of it like the OB boys actually getting therapy/finding someone to confide in instead of being allowed to stew in their own emotions and risking OB a second time. Sometimes all it takes is that gentle nudge or a reminder to step back and take a deep breath. When we let our emotions get the best of us, we end up thinking and acting in irrational ways, and then that can lead to people--whether yourself or others--getting hurt.

[chilling-seavey]

I feel like something that goes for TWIG is you and George dating and have not told anyone besides your families and someone from the grid unexpectedly comes over, like Alex or Charles, and they see feminine products around the apartment. Like your shoes, handbag, and/or maybe your bra (for some spice) and gets really curious.

(Anon, the way you concept here relates to the way I portrayed their early days relationship in the Winter Warmers blurb I wrote last night is a little scary...are we the same person?? But I love this SO MUCH (I actually wrote this as soon as it came in while actively in the office) thank you for submitting!)

Basically, yes, the overarching concept of wanting to be 100% private with the relationship to keep it out of the limelight and unwelcome social pressures of the Formula 1 world is so TWIG. George is a little nervous to have your relationship be so publicized and scrutinized because he doesn't want that to come between you...he's seen his friends' relationships crumble because of that and it terrifies him, honestly. But it feels normal without anyone knowing except yourselves and your close families...like he's a normal person in a normal relationship.

You'd come to some races that first year but with a regular paddock pass/'sponsored' by Mercedes, coming in on your own and away from him so as to not be associated together by the press, feeling like a whole secret spy and honestly it's kind of thrilling. Even most if not all of the team doesn't know: hardly even seeing you and George in the same room in Mercedes hospitality...you're never in the garage...you're honestly impressively good at flying under the radar.

Yeah, out of everyone it drives George a little crazy that he hasn't told Alex yet but he selfishly just wants to stay in this safe bubble of normal for a little longer. Even if that means virtually lying to his best friend.

You and George didn't live in the same city so for the first while of your relationship you were bouncing back and forth between each other's apartments (and halfway around the world on some race weekends...). It was not long at all really before there was a steady stock of your things at George's just to make traveling easier for you; face wash and shampoo and conditioner and some standard makeup and maybe an outfit or two. Honestly it came to a point where your things just felt so natural to him that they just blend into the background of his apartment like they were just meant to be there.

So when Alex showed up one random weekday, George almost didn't bat an eye. Almost. Until Alex was kicking off his shoes in the foyer and eyeing the second pair of sneakers by the door.

"Your feet shrink or something, George?"

The fib was out of George's mouth before he could think, "They're my sister's. She left them here."

With Alex pacified, George kept him in the living room, busying him with snacks and conversation like he wasn't silently freaking out that his lie would come out.

When Alex excused himself to the bathroom, George panic texted you from the couch. His knee bounced annoyingly with him stuck staring at your laughing emojis you replied with to his lengthy nervous ramble. Not helpful.

"Since when do you stock up on feminine hygiene products?" Alex asked the moment he emerged from the bathroom, rubbing his hands together like he was still washing them.

"I, uh...carry them in case anyone that needs them comes over. Like Lily." George stumbled out a mention of Alex's long-term girlfriend who, in reality, did come over sometimes. He then immediately deflected with a quick, "Since when do you go snooping under my sink?"

"I needed hand lotion and I know you have the good, expensive stuff that smells like a forest." Alex flexed his fingers out as he flopped back down on the couch, his skin shimmering just a bit in the sunlight through the living room window. But Alex was a little too trusting of his best friend and so he didn't feel too bothered by George's response. He was a nice enough guy, maybe he did keep stock for Lily or his sister or someone.

Third time was the charm when they had decided to watch a movie and George got up to make some popcorn. Alex got himself comfortable on the couch, rearranging the cushions and finding that sweet spot in the upholstery. But the sudden laugh that came from the living room had George stopping in the kitchen.

"George!" Alex called in that pitchy voice he got when he was far too excited and teasing him.

George appeared in the doorway to the living room to find Alex waving one of your bras around in the air. The look on his face must have been priceless because Alex nearly cackled, "You keeping a bra around for Lily when she stays over too or is this also your sister's?"

George took three quick strides over and snatched it from him, "It's not my fucking sister's."

"If you have a girlfriend, you can just tell me." Alex said, slightly calmer now but still housing that shit-eating grin on his face. "I don't know why you'd not tell me."

George sighed, feeling a little ridiculous standing there with your bra in his hand in front of his best friend who was set on getting the truth out of him. He shrugged, relenting, "We just...wanted to keep it out of the spotlight for a bit."

"I'm not the spotlight." Alex reminded him.

"Yeah, but you have a big mouth, Alex." George laughed lightly, teasingly, before fading out with a shake of his head, trying to explain, "It was nice just feeling normal. I know once the whole grid knows or the team it'll, like, start to blend...these two halves of my life...and I know how that can end up."

"You can't be scared of that, George." Alex said gently, "Not everyone crashes and burns. Lily and I are fine."

"Lily also is in a public career of her own so she knows how it goes." George replied softly, tentatively.

"This girl of yours isn't?"

George shook his head.

"Not a model? Social media? Athlete?"

George shook his head after each one.

Alex's eyebrows raised, "Don't tell me she's normal."

"Remember the girl who checked you into that hotel back in May?"

"That really narrows it down, George, thank you."

George huffed, "The one you were on me for staring at for far too long."

"Her? Oh my God, you actually got her to agree to go out with you?! But you're so boring!"

"Alex—"

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[aonemanarmy]

The explanation Vincent attempted to make for the Turks wasn't nearly enough to sway Sephiroth's opinion, although no one could've really done so considering his mental state. Trying to reason with a madman would always prove fruitless and an exercise in frustration, but it was nevertheless admirable that the gunman had made the attempt. Precious few other people would've bothered to grant Sephiroth even that much consideration, yet it was something that he'd come to except and even accept before long.

“And yet, they signed that contract fully knowing the consequences that would come of it.”

No one had held a gun to the Turks' heads to get them to sign their contracts. They had done so willingly all for the promise of money or power regardless of the consequences, that or they had foolishly thought themselves to be above them. Whatever the case was it all amounted to the same thing – that they had chosen their fate and as such Sephiroth couldn't feel any form of pity for them, not even if he were capable of such an emotion.

…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?

He didn't. It was actually one of the things that had persistently bothered him about Vincent's presence. As a creature of logic and instinct Sephiroth couldn't understand why Vincent hadn't killed him yet or at the very least made a decent attempt. He always expected it, but so far it had never come and the fact that it hadn't continued to be a point of confusion for him because it made no sense. After all, why would Vincent not kill him?

Sephiroth already knew that humans saw him as a weapon at best and a monster at worst, so why hesitate in destroying him? Once he'd broken free of the shackles that bound him to Shinra's control he was no longer of any use to humans and had become an active threat to them, which was why he fully expected each and ever one of them that were capable to try to kill him. So why didn't Vincent?

Was it really because the ex-Turk thought himself responsible for had happened to him? If that were the case then he should've killed Sephiroth upon their first encounter, to make amends for the monster he'd released upon the world. There was no reason to keep the madman alive as he could no longer be controlled, and as such could no longer be used either. He was a liability and they both knew it, so why...?

The only logical conclusion he could draw was that Vincent wouldn't kill him because of some sort of deal he'd struck with Jenova, although what that deal was exactly remained a mystery to him. However, even that line of reasoning didn't explain why the gunman hadn't seized upon the opportunity when they'd first met back in the Shinra Mansion. By all means Vincent should've killed him and he didn't like the idea of not knowing why that was, but before he could voice those thoughts aloud the gunman continued in a soft, almost forlorn-sounding voice.

What was with that tone of voice?

Sephiroth couldn't understand sympathy as he'd never been the recipient of it before and as such he lacked the capability of expressing it himself. So when he heard it in Vincent's voice he was unsure what exactly he was hearing and automatically assumed that it was somehow meant to be taken as demeaning. But why ever would a lion concern itself with the opinion of sheep?

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in Sephiroth's voice as his answer came automatically, as if it were obvious, and in his mind it was.

There was no question in Sephiroth's mind that dying would've been a mercy rather than living through what he had. What life could there be for him anyway? The only life he'd ever known was one of suffering, where he spent each waking moment living in fear of what new horrors the next day would bring. Worse still was knowing that he would never be able to escape from it, since when he tried he only suffered more and was left praying to whatever uncaring gods might've been out there to let it all end. Unfortunately for him those pleas for mercy were never answered and even when he tried to take matters into his own hands he found himself incapable of doing so.

Jenova wouldn't allow it.

Sephiroth didn't know it then, but even without meeting his 'mother' in person that Jenova's cells still retained some measure of control over him. As an entity beyond mortal comprehension Jenova was essentially immortal, and as such her cells always sought to survive no matter how harsh and unforgiving the circumstances. This survival instinct was hard-coded into her very DNA, so it required no conscious thought on her cells' part to act whenever their host was threatened, which was why whenever Sephiroth had tried to kill himself his attempts always failed. Either he would find his muscles freeze up and refuse to cooperate or the wounds he'd sustained would miraculously heal themselves no matter how severe the damage. It was as if his own body was working against him and in that regard it was true, and for that his suffering was forced to continue.

If only he'd been capable then he would've died long before ever reaching adulthood or even before he'd become a teenager. Things would've been so much better if that were the case, so knowing Vincent could've possibly granted him that wish and didn't was infuriating.

“What is this life that you speak of?” He spread his arms wide, the smile on his lips a stark juxtaposition to the topic of their conversation. “Forgive me if I fail to see this existence as something worthy of treasuring.”

Dropping his arms Sephiroth walked toward the gunman, only pausing beside of him as he considered the thoughts that must've been running through the other man's head. Did he truly struggle with such a decision? Did he really think that any form of life no matter how awful was worth living? If that were true then it only served to prove how naive Vincent was in spite of all that had happened to him.

“Would you have chosen this existence if you were given the option to chose between it and oblivion?” Sephiroth strode past the other man to gaze up the path winding up the canyon where several figures in black began to appear – the first of Hojo's failed cloning attempts finally making their way here. “If this is what life is meant to be then I want no part of it. Fortunately, mother has granted me an alternative, one which I had not thought possible until recently.”

It was also the only option he had left since Sephiroth knew that death would never be able to truly claim him.

The venom in Sephiroth’s voice was anything but subtle. Sephiroth could lightly regard anyone else’s plight in favor of his own. And while others would have spurned it all in the name of calling Sephiroth a full-bred monster, Vincent could understand Sephiroth’s point of view to some degree. However, he also knew that what Sephiroth knew of the Turks was only from the viewpoint of someone who had no understanding of kindness, of sympathy, a conscience, or simply moral dilemma. One couldn’t have a set of morals without an opposing side to compare it with. There was no point in correcting Sephiroth’s opinions in that respect.

“I cannot speak for the other departments. But as a Turk, the only way to leave Shinra is death. To defy ones orders could also lead to the same punishment.” The Turks were like walking secret databases. They were a huge liability to the company. The only free Turk was a dead Turk. Once a Turk, always a Turk.

Perhaps to Sephiroth, death was indeed a choice. But for mortals, it was the end of everything. Yet knowing this, Vincent had chosen to defy Hojo. He should have been dead. But instead, he had received an even worse punishment. Neither of them had the choice of becoming a monster. But unlike Sephiroth, Vincent did have a choice stepping into Shinra and submitting himself as a permanent employee of Shinra. He had a choice to become complacent and allow Hojo to work unsullied. He would have probably been high up in the ranks, and still be human, well respected within Shinra as head of the Turks. But now he was a killing machine, Sephiroth was a monster, and Lucrecia’s existence hung in the balance. If death could be considered a choice, then technically Sephiroth was correct. Knowing what Vincent knew of the Jenova cells, death was a luxury to even Sephiroth. The man was indeed a prisoner to the inevitable. It was tragic… something Sephiroth was quick to remind Vincent about. What was more blood on top of blood already spilled?

Vincent knew there was little he could do to explain the reasoning behind his motivation to spare the life of another. A soft glare crossed over Vincent’s face as Sephiroth trivialized his past murders. At this point, he couldn’t tell if it was Sephiroth or Jenova trying to worm their way under his nerves. Either way, he could feel a trap once again being laid. It was just a ploy to get him to do even more killings. “…What makes you think I could easily take theirs, when I hesitate to take yours?” Sephiroth had killed more than all the Turks combined. He was the most feared being in the entire planet, outside of Jenova. While one could argue Sephiroth had committed the greater evil, the flip-side could also be stated that Sephiroth saw himself as a savior. The Turks were ‘just doing their job’. Sephiroth was ‘just doing what Jenova wanted’. The sharp gaze from Sephiroth didn’t visually affect Vincent, but he felt it very keenly all the same. It was fleeting, but that response was coming from the depths of a hurt boy buried long ago. As Sephiroth drew his gaze upward, his second comment caught Vincent a bit off guard. Was Sephiroth admitting he had wished he had perished those many years ago…? Vincent wouldn’t have doubted such a dark thought had crossed his mind. It had certainly been one of his own wishes as well. The question made the gunslinger grimace and look away, diverting his gaze towards some of the gaping caverns where the winds were swirling. He wasn’t any better than Sephiroth. But at least he had something to anchor his sanity onto-- For now at least. He was merely a step away from becoming no different. “To kill the son of the woman who loved him” Vincent spoke more to himself than to Sephiroth, his fist tensing slightly at his side. "Or to let him live, knowing he would suffer." The guilt-laden gunslinger lifted his eyes, finally meeting Sephiroth's dagger-like gaze; his own eyes reflecting something akin to sympathy and less malice. "You were robbed of a normal life, yes." "...But should I have deprived you of a chance to live, as well?"

[tyrantisterror]

Wherefore Art Thou Clownfucker?

A while back I made a post explaining why vampires appeal to me, and while it was mostly in a more general sense, there was a specific focus on why I find them, you know, hot. And it was that was in part because I had recently discovered that I'm apparently surrounded by Werewolf fuckers on here, much to my dismay as a Vampire fucker. It's like being the only goth kid at a rockabilly concert or something. I felt defensive, is the point! I needed to go to bat (heh) for my pale ladies (and Astarion.... and Spike)!

And now, because Muncher compels me to do so, I'm doing the same for Clowns. My other pale ladies.

Now, keep in mind the fact that I'm a monsterfucker first and foremost, and that my clownfuckery is really more derived from my monsterfuckery. I imagine the middle section of the Clownfucker/Monsterfucker diagram is pretty big, but I also know there are some clownfuckers who are very much NOT monsterfuckers, and vice versa. This is not the case for vampirefuckers, who are nestled firmly within the monsterfucker circle, because while all vampires are monsters, not all clowns are monsters. I bring this up because while I'm gonna try to explain clownfuckery on its own terms, there is likely going to be some monsterfucker bias in my explanations and defense. That's just how it is on this bitch of an earth!

I'm gonna get real pretentious here and talk about the historic role of clowns for a moment. From Comedia del Arte harlequins to medieval court Jesters, the clown's role has always been that of Comic Relief. They are, simply put, here to be tonally dissonant - when everyone else is serious and dramatic, a clown comes in as this weird, silly, incongruously hilarious element that contrasts the gravity of everything around them. "Relief" is really the key word here - a clown's job is to provide levity when otherwise there would be none. When everything is dark, they provide a little light.

That's the core emotional appeal of clownfucking - a clown is/should be someone who can make you smile when you need it the most. Kingdom's at war, family's fighting, your life's in shambles? The clown will make you laugh. Everything feels dark and gloomy and depressing? Here comes a silly little goofball wearing bright, clashing colors and jingling with each step because they're covered in bells, and all they want to do is tell jokes until you start laughing. Clowns are, by intent, that sweet sweet hit of dopamine personified.

Clowns are here to make you smile.

Another important historical detail about clowns is their unique place in the hierarchy of society - namely, being entirely outside of it. A jester was in some respects the lowest person on the totem pole, a fool that had power over no one and nothing, living to be laughed at. Yet, because they had no power over anyone, it was generally poor taste to take offense to anything a jester said, which meant they could talk more freely than anyone else - when everyone else acts like a butt-kissing sycophant, a jester is free to talk shit and speak their mind.

The traditional attire and appearance of clowns plays into both of these traits: the bright, gaudy clothing and makeup is silly, yes, but it's also a sign that the clown does not give a single shit about fashion and other social norms. A clown is, by nature, an anomaly, a misfit, a rebel.

Nowadays we have another word for people with that attitude. Clowns are punk.

Weird makeup, crayola red hair, patchwork clothes...

I would say the very fact that "normal" people look at clownfucking as some sort of inexplicable fetish is, in fact, part of the appeal. It's a form of xenophilia, of attraction to things that are different and othered, a love for outsiders and misfits and oddballs. To fuck a clown is to show love and adoration for something outside of the realm of what is socially acceptable - something silly, goofy, and weird, yet also often harmless. After all, a clown's main purpose is to make you smile.

That's not to say that clowns have to be harmless to be attractive, mind you. Tons of people, many much smarter than I, have talked about the cultural shift of our perception of clowns that began somewhere in the 1980's. Clowns went from being viewed as genuinely fun and cute to primarily being figures of fear and terror - if a clown shows up in modern media, even if it's innocuous, there will always be at least one character who vocally talks about how creepy they think clowns are.

That may in part be due to the fact that clowns have such a benign mission statement - a lot of people, especially nowadays, do not trust a person who claims they just want to make others happy. Anyone who acts like that MUST be up to something - there must be something nefarious going on, some evil plan, some lurking danger.

Which is where you REALLY bring the monsterfuckers in.

You really don't need to do that much with a clown's design to push it firmly into monster territory - "a pale person with sharp teeth" is the bare minimum it takes to make a vampire, after all (and even the pale part can be downplayed).

And a clown's dedication to making things "funny" can make for a very enjoyably-scary persona for a monster - hell, half the appeal of the Addams Family is that they're a bunch of freakish inhuman monsters who react to a bunch of scary shit with absolute delight and adoration. Again, the tonal dissonance element is at play here, albeit in a different way - even when Clowns are the darkness in your world, they still bring light in the sense that they view it that darkness as funny in of itself.

(hell, the word "harlequin" means "five horns," and may be rooted in folkloric monsters like Herne the Hunter depending on who you ask, so in a way clowns have always been monster-coded)

I think all of this is pretty well exemplified in the current Patron Saint of Clownfuckers, the goddess of Clownfuckery if you will, Harley Quinn. Hailing from a story whose main setting is such a Gothic Horror-inspired nightmarish shithole of a city that it's literally called Gotham, surrounded by characters who are at least 60% gothic horror archetypes by volume, opposed by a hero who literally dresses like a Dracula, it is inarguable that Harley Quinn is surrounded by darkness that's both literal and figurative.

But she's always smiling, and not in an ironic way.

Harley Quinn suffers intense abuse, she's drawn into wicked schemes, and in the way of most modern clowns, she causes no small amount of mayhem and suffering herself. But even at her darkest, she's always smiling, always trying to find the bright side.

She's a rebel, she's a punk. Almost everyone thinks she's beneath them. Almost all of those people get proven they're wrong. In a world full of tyrannical hierarchies, she steps outside of them.

She's an outsider, a misfit, an oddball. And she wants to make you smile.

I think you can probably see the appeal of that.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

The Use of the Heart

Good evening, followers! I've got a new story for y'all. ~9.8k words. Yeah, this one's long. If you'd like to toss me a tip for it, you can drop one on my ko-fi page here. It...did take me three weeks to write this one.

Avery hadn’t gotten more than a foot out of the carriage after his sister before she was whisked away to meet her new husband. He stumbled the rest of the way out onto the stone courtyard and nearly fell on his face. “Wai—”

He bit his tongue before he could finish the protest. They were here so Lisette could meet her new husband. If the crown prince wanted to meet her fresh off the ship that had brought them here, smelling like dead fish and stale sweat from not being able to properly bathe for two weeks, then…

Then, well, at least all the treaties were already signed in case he changed his mind.

Avery righted himself. The handful of attendants Lisette had brought with her were already busy unloading her trunks and consulting with people he didn’t recognize—probably their counterparts in Alham. They would know where he was meant to go.

He made a beeline for Robin, the woman in charge of his sister’s affairs, who was blushing and smiling at a man with dark hair and neat, plain clothes in the dark blue that was Alham’s royal colors. Someone who worked for Lisette’s new husband, maybe. He pointed Robin off, and Avery immediately took her place. “Hello. I was hoping you could help me.”

The man gave him a once over that no one had ever given Avery before, then said, “With what exactly?”

“I’ve just arrived with the rest of the contingent from Ensheren. I was hoping you knew where to steer me.”

“You don’t already know what you should be doing?”

Avery’s face turned an unflattering shade of pink at the incredulity in his voice. “I’m only here to keep my sister company and help her settle into her new home. Unfortunately, as she’s already been escorted off without me to see her new husband, I’m at loose ends in the meantime. You could tell me where her rooms are and I can start there.”

The man’s eyes widened. “Siste—Ensheren sent one of its princes? Your Highness, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t told you were coming.”

Avery’s heel dug into the stone under the sole of his boot, twisting anxiously. He was too tired to deal with this. “Not one of the important ones, I’m afraid. After you’ve had your heir, your spare, your backup spare, one to handle the people, and one to handle the military, you run out of things to do with princes.”

One dark eyebrow went up. “Your parents had quite a few children.”

“They were hoping for Lisette after the second set of twins,” Avery said. “My name is Avery. And I really am here to help my sister adjust. If you could tell me where her rooms are, that would be a good start. I can help set it up for her before she returns.”

The man stared at him quietly for another long moment before saying, “Your Highness…I apologize for the bluntness, but you look like you’re about to keel over. I don’t think you’ll be much help with anything your sister needs. Give me a moment to settle things here.” He reached out and steadied Avery’s arm, and Avery was startled to find he’d been listing to one side. “You’ll be okay to wait?”

Avery nodded, and shook himself to wake up a bit more. It had taken him the entire two weeks to stop vomiting over the edge of the ship, just in time to land and find his legs wobbly again.

The man frowned at him, but let go and turned away to speak to some of the others bustling back and forth over the courtyard while Avery tried to gain his footing. He hadn’t felt so bad sitting in the carriage, but now that he was standing in full sun without Lisette, his vision was starting to blur with exhaustion.

Fortunately, his guide was back before Avery could do something stupid, like pass out on the stone in front of everyone. And he frowned the second he saw Avery. “Would you like an arm?”

Avery paused for a second. Then he said, “Yes. Please. Thank you. Whatever accepts the offer fastest.”

The man laughed, warm and full and genuine, then took Avery’s bag from him and wrapped an arm around Avery’s ribs. Avery tilted his head against the man’s shoulder and let him lead him into the—castle? Palace? Avery wasn’t sure. But it was less of a fortress than Ensheren’s royal residences. A good place for his sister to call home.

Inside was cooler, and Avery felt better immediately. His guide shifted his arm so at least a quarter of Avery’s weight was resting on his shoulder, and Avery let his settle against it, too. It was the first time since he’d gotten on that damn boat that he felt stable and his stomach stopped churning. But maybe that was because his guide smelled soothing and warm, like ginger cookies, or…or cinnamon. Whatever it was, Avery’s stomach stopped rolling over.

He managed to lift his head enough to look around as his guide practically dragged him through the polished hallways. He didn’t absorb most of it—just the impression of dark wood panels, wide windows letting in bright sunlight, and sculptures and paintings at every intersection. They passed through a set of heavy double doors in carved wood, and then into a smaller door down the hallway from that, and his guide let him go to stand on his own again.

They were in private chambers. Empty ones. Two doors were set against the far wall, and another one to Avery’s left. Between them were three couches and two armchairs, and one large table.

“These are my rooms,” his guide said. “You can bathe here and then take a nap while we wait for your sister and Kavi to come up for air and remember anyone else exists.”

“Kavi?” Avery asked.

“My brother,” his guide said. “Your sister’s new husband.”

“Your—your brother?”

His guide smiled at him. “My brother.”

The floor felt closer than it should have. “King Solon,” Avery said. “I—I’m sorry, Your Majesty. No one ever told me what you looked like.”

“I’d gathered,” the king said. “And no one told me you were coming. We’ll just have to both forgive each other. The bath is over here. I’ll find something for you to wear and I’ll put it in the dressing room.”

He left Avery alone in an alcove off of a bathing room with a bench. Avery sat down abruptly and pressed his face into his hands. He’d spent at least fifteen minutes using the king of a foreign country—the one Lisette’s fate was in the hands of—as a crutch.

While smelling like a cheap fishmonger who didn’t know what hygiene was.

What a wonderful first impression Ensheren was making on their new allies.

~~~~~~~~

The bath was large enough for Avery to stretch out in and had taps that ran fresh hot water. He slid in with a sigh and opened the jars next to him, looking for shampoo and soap. The first one had the same strong ginger scent the king had when—

When Avery had practically shoved his nose into his neck.

His face went red, and it wasn’t from the steam of the bath water.

The bottle was thin oil, though, not proper soap or shampoo. Avery left it open to scent the air while he cleaned up, and it was thick and heady in the bathroom by the time he felt properly clean and presentable The king—or someone who worked for him—had left clean clothes in the sitting room on the bench. They weren’t from his luggage, but if he didn’t have a room, no one would have unpacked his things, either. He ran his fingers over the soft fabric, then pulled them on.

Soft pants, longer socks than Avery was used to, a shirt in a pale goldenrod color, and a dark blue tunic to go over it. He fiddled with the laces, unsure how tight Alham expected people to wear their clothing. Ensheren usually wore things closely fitted.

He tightened the waist in and tucked the extra lacing inside to hide it. Might as well remind the king he was from a foreign country. Maybe it would give him some grace for treating him like a walking stick.

His face flushed again at the memory, and he fiddled with his boots, waiting for the blush to fade before he stepped back into the sitting room.

The king was curled at a desk near one of the wide windows, feet tucked next to his legs. He glanced up from whatever he was writing when Avery joined him. “Feeling any better, Your Highness?”

Avery nodded. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

“Solon. My name is Solon.”

Avery almost laughed in surprise. His breath came out in a sudden huff anyway. “You just called me Your Highness!”

Solon grinned. “You didn’t give me permission not to. I did.”

“I’ll call you by your name if you call me Avery,” he said.

“I think that’s a fair deal, Avery.” Solon made a soft humming sound. “You should get some sleep. I’m afraid they’re still cleaning up your rooms and hauling your things in there. It’ll be a few hours, I think.”

“I—”

“Are you not tired yet? If you want to stay up for a bit, I could use your help.”

The bath had woken Avery up, although he knew he’d fall asleep in minutes if he lay down. But he didn’t have a room yet, so did Solon want him to take his bed?

Avery tore his thoughts away from that. “What did you need?”

Solon waved to the chairs nearby. “Pull one of those up.”

Avery grabbed the nearest chair and slid it to where Solon pointed, then tucked himself into it while Solon rummaged for a clean sheet of paper. He handed Avery the pen. “Your family. I’m realizing I know very little about what my brother married into.”

Avery fiddled with the pen. “Then why did you agree to it?”

“Honestly, once I saw how Kavi reacted to your sister’s letters, I was sold on the arrangement. He…well. He liked what he learned of her immediately. And the details of treaties like this aren’t my job.”

Avery frowned. “You’re the king.”

Solon tilted his head. “I am. But I—well. Alham’s parliament decides what powers the monarch has. They vote on it every five years. And while the current officials are happy enough to have me help lead and oversee laws and even introduce some of my own, details of things like this are not my forte. Far more talented people than I do that.”

“They—vote? On what you’re allowed to do?”

Solon nodded. “The laws here don’t allow them to get rid of a monarch, exactly. But they can refuse to give an unpopular monarch or one no one trusts power until they abdicate. My grandfather was blocked from doing anything for three decades until he let my father take over. And my father only won their trust back by working his way up through the legislature and learning how it worked before they let him do anything.”

Avery cleared his throat. “I’m sorry. I only had the time on the ship to read up on your country, and nothing like that was mentioned. I didn’t realize.”

Solon nudged the paper closer to Avery. “A family tree, please. And what each of you does. I’d ask your sister, but I’m not willing to interrupt newlyweds on their first day and night together.”

Aver turned pink at the implication. “I can do that.”

He drew marks for both his parents first, then took up the entire width of the paper to list out his brothers. “My father is the reigning king. He spends his days meeting with his advisors and the elected governors from each of the counties at home to make decisions and decide how they’re going to go be done.”

Avery drew two branches off the same root from his parents. “These are the oldest twins. Jamie is the heir. He spends his days shadowing our father and trying to learn everything and how to run things. He has two kids with his wife, but they’re both too young to take on any responsibilities yet. Zeke is second in line. He handles all the petitioners from around the country who arrive and need to speak to someone, and figures out how to resolve things. And if he can’t, he goes to Jamie and Dad.”

Avery drew another line. “And then the next twins, Jack and Max. Jack filters things for the older ones and makes sure that they’re not overwhelmed with too many things. He decides what’s most important to get their attention first, and redirects everyone else to other ways of handling issues.”

Solon hummed. “I think Jack was the one who first sent the letters of interest to me proposing I marry your sister.”

“You?”

Solon waved his hand. “Kavi was always more interested in marriage and children than I ever was. I suggested him to your brother instead, and he accepted. Your sister will still be the mother to any heirs. Alham doesn’t need a queen or a prince consort.”

“The…the prince consort?”

“The husband to the monarch. If I had one.”

Avery’s mouth fell open. The king could have a husband, if he wanted? Something burned in his stomach. His family had never said anything about his interest in other men, but Avery was—he was useless. And Ensheren didn’t need yet another heir. It was for the best he wouldn’t have any other children.

“The…the way your country works is very different than I’d imagined,” Avery said, choking back something clogging his throat to stare at the paper.

“I’m realizing that. Is marriage between two people of the same sex not allowed in Ensheren?”

Avery lifted one hand and found it shaking, and he waggled it back and forth. “No, we….we can, mostly. But the king…my father, or my brother, could never—they—they need to have children. Have direct heirs. It’s allowed for most people, but there are people with power who just. Can’t.”

Solon stared at his shaking hand for a long moment, then said, “Tell me about Max.”

Avery forced himself to look back at the paper. “Max does whatever he wants. He’s the most charming of us. He likes to mingle with the people in town and the rest of the country without going through proper channels. It’s hard to figure out when he’s in the castle and when he’s out. And he never tells anyone what he’s up to before goes and does it. Honestly, we usually hear of his escapades from the papers first. But it means he has more information on how things are going in the country than any of the rest of us. It’s why everyone likes him so much.”

“You like him,” Solon said.

“He’s everyone’s favorite brother,” Avery said. “Even Lisette’s.”

“And yet you’re here with her and not Max.”

“I don’t think Max has ever left the country. I don’t think he wants to. Besides, he’s busy. Formally, he’s in charge of most of the internal affairs of the country before anything has to be escalated.” Avery drew the next line before Solon could ask any more questions. “This is Lennox. He grew up watching after the knights training grounds and begging him to teach them, and joined up as soon as our father finally gave him permission. He’s worked his way up the ranks to be the Ensheren’s top general now.”

Avery drew two more lines. “This one is me. And then Lisette is the youngest. She was raised expecting to be married as part of a treaty, although we didn’t know it would be with Alham until the last couple of years. She’s ready to play her ambassador role. Don’t worry. She’ll be good at it.”

Solon pushed Avery’s hand back to the line for himself. “And what do you do? You didn’t say.”

“…Not…not much of anything,” Avery said. “By the time I was old enough to realize I needed to find something, my brothers already had things handled.” He shrugged. “Right now, I’m here to help Lisette get her bearings. That’s all.”

Solon watched him silently for a moment. Avery’s face went pink again, and he set the pen down. “Ensheren doesn’t need more royalty getting involved in things, and being given a job I’m not qualified to do would only cause more problems.”

Solon frowned, and Avery hated it. He knew he was useless. He knew he wasn’t contributing anything to his country the way royalty was supposed to. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that six princes was at least two too many, and while everyone had forgiven him for not having anything to prepare for in the future as a child, and he’d managed to put it off a few more years at university, every day since he’d turned twenty-five, more and more whispers had churned, wondering what his purpose was.

“I see,” Solon said finally. “Thank you. This will be helpful. Now, you should get some sleep. I’ll wake you up when our siblings come up for air, or when your rooms are ready. Whichever comes first.”

Avery took a slow breath to calm the frustration that had been building in his chest. Sleep. In Solon’s bed. But at least it would be in another room. “Thank you.”

Solon tilted his head. “There’re pillows on the couch over there. Do you want a blanket?”

Avery jolted in place. “No! No, that’s fine. Thank you.”

He turned away before Solon could read anything on his face and realize Avery had been thinking about Solon’s bed. Avery crossed the room to the couch and lay down, facing resolutely away from Solon.

He closed his eyes, took several slow breaths, and tried not wonder what Solon’s bed looked like.

~~~~~~~~

Solon woke Avery after true dark had fallen with a hand to his shoulder. Avery usually started awake when someone shook him, but this felt more like shifting awake on the boat, gentle and dizzying.

He blinked up at Solon in the dim lamplight, shaking himself to remind himself where he was. “Wha’ izzit?” he asked, and immediately clamped his mouth shut. If he couldn’t speak properly, he shouldn’t be talking at all.

Solon laughed. “Your room is ready for you, and your sister and my brother will be joining me for dinner soon. I thought you might want to change before they get here. You’re coming?”

Right. Avery was in borrowed clothing. “I should…definitely wear something…more presentable.” Even if Solon had seen him smelling and looking like a beached fish, the crown prince didn’t have to. And he was the one Avery should be focusing on, not Solon.

And what would Lisette have to say if Avery showed up to dinner looking rumpled and dressed in clothes that weren’t his?

…He definitely needed to change.

“I’d like to get ready,” he managed.

“Of course.” Solon helped him to his feet with a warm hand, soft except for the small finger callouses Avery was used to on artists. “I’ll show you your rooms. You can make it back here on your own, do you think, or would you like me to wait for you?”

Avery shrugged, and trailed quietly after Solon through the halls. Solon hummed something quietly to himself, but didn’t interrupt Avery’s contemplation of the palace walls now that he was awake enough to take it in properly.

The windows were wide and bright, the courtyards huge and full of gardens and not soldiers, and the walls hung with sculptures and paintings.

It felt safe. It would be a good place for Lisette to live. An unworried home without any need to be on guard constantly. Ensheren hadn’t seen a war in the last four decades, but the castle they’d been born into and all the ones they’d traveled between were still built with the lingering need to barricade in mind.

Solon’s home seemed more like a public showcase. Like it was designed to welcome people, like it belonged to the people, the way Solon’s job did.

Solon waved Avery into a series of small rooms—a bedroom, a small sitting room with a desk as if Avery had any guests to greet in Alham, and an attached washroom. Not lavish, but—it would do.

“It’s only two hallways,” Avery said. “I think I can make it back.”

Solon smiled. “Then I’ll see you shortly.”

Solon left him alone with a wave, and Avery dug through his wardrobe, pleased to find everything already unpacked and hung up for him. Avery didn’t normally fuss about his clothes, but normally he wasn’t meeting his sister’s husband.

Or trying to change someone’s horrible first impression of him. Avery was the useless prince of Ensheren, but he was still a prince. He could impress if he tried.

Hopefully.

He threw the borrowed—gifted—clothes onto his bed and swapped it out for his best pants, woven in a tight herringbone than shifted between gray and crimson, buttoned a gold shirt over it with dark brown buttons that matched his eyes, and wrapped it in place with a burgundy vest. Not the royal colors of Ensheren anymore than they were Alham’s—but they were Avery’s best colors, and he wanted to look nice. He rummaged through the wardrobe until he found his dark red coat and slid it on before brushing his hair out of the sleep mussed disaster and washed his face.

And then it was time to face Solon again.

Avery knocked at Solon’s door before opening it, and all three people in the room turned to him with a bright, “Avery!”

Avery froze at the sound of his name in unison from so many voices, then held up his hand to wave slightly, and drop it.

“Um. Hello.”

Solon smiled warmly, and Avery tore his eyes away from studying his face, hoping for surprise or at least approval, to meet his sister’s gaze. She’d gotten a bath and her hair curled down her back in loose waves over her nicest, newest dress.

She wanted to look nice for her husband. Good. That meant she liked him.

“Lisette,” he said. “You’re—” He stopped himself, then restarted, “You look nice.”

“So do you,” she said, eying him skeptically. “You put in effort.”

She still had one arm looped through her husband’s. It was easy to see that Solon was his brother, now that Avery had seen them both. They had the same dark hair fighting a wave, the same bright blue eyes, the same tall, slender build. Neither Solon nor Kavi was built to be a fighter like Lennox was, but neither was Avery. “Should I not want to make a good impression on your husband? I thought it would be good to at least try.”

The crown prince laughed and reached a hand out to shake Avery’s. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Avery ducked his head into a bow before shaking his hand. “Your Highness.”

“Kavi. My name is Kavi. And yours is Avery.”

“Kavi,” Avery agreed. “I’m glad to see my sister seems so eager to impress you.”

“Avery!” Lisette said, turning pink the same way he did.

“What? It means that you still like him as much as you did from the letters.”

Kavi laughed, a deep, warm sound that dragged another smile out of Avery. He was kind. He was friendly. And he kept turning toward Lisette like a magnet.

All good signs.

“Let’s eat,” Solon said, pulling the warming covers off the serving trays.

Kavi pulled a chair out for Lisette, then took the seat next to her. Avery took the seat next to Solon more gingerly than necessary and folded his hands in his lap, uncertain what pre-dinner rituals Alham observed.

Apparently, none, because Kavi started scooping noodles onto his plate as soon as Avery slid his chair closer to the table, and Solon stirred a pot of potatoes in some red-yellow glaze that was tangy enough to make Avery’s mouth water from across the table.

He took several thick pieces of bread, still warm, and buttered them, and slowly filled the rest of the plate with food. But he waited for Solon to take his first bite before he started eating.

Solon nudged Avery’s arm before he could get more than two bites into the lovely, warm duck and offered him a ladle filled with the sauced potatoes. “You should try these. They’re my favorite.”

“If you don’t like them, tell me and I’ll smack Solon for you,” Kavi said. “I asked for our chef to come up with something close to Ensheren’s food for you. I thought it would be good to acclimate you slowly. She even got a recipe book. But Solon cannot go a day without those damn potatoes.” Solon jerked under the table like he’d been kicked, and Kavi grinned at his brother.

“They taste good,” Solon said, sounding petulant and everything he hadn’t been the entire day while Avery collapsed on him. Lisette giggled into her bread and Avery couldn’t help a grin crawling onto his face.

“That does explain why you have peppered duck,” Lisette told her husband. “You remembered?”

Kavi turned to her with a smile that softened like butter over the bread Avery was busy shoveling into his mouth. “I would have double checked before asking our chef if I hadn’t.”

Avery’s chest warmed. Kavi and Lisette had been exchanging letters constantly for nearly two years already. They knew each other, even if they’d only met in person for the first time that day. He didn’t need to worry. Lisette knew what she was getting into far better than Avery did. She would be fine.

“You’re getting along well.”

Lisette pinked. “We’ve had a good day.”

“And I look forward to the next ones,” Kavi said, reaching over a tray of dumplings to touch her hand.

She smiled at him. “So do I.”

Avery fell quiet as he finished eating, eyes on his plate instead of his sister. She would be fine. Alham would be a good home. Kavi would be a good husband. Every single one of their brothers had insisted he accompany her, and even their mother had pulled Avery aside to give him her best guilt trip over his hesitance.

Maybe that would be for the best for Lisette. She didn’t need anyone to intervene.

He let Lisette and Kavi’s gentle flirting and Kavi teasing his brother wash over him without feeling the need to add anything. They were all content with each other, and he was content to know that.

Except that Kavi and Lisette and Solon all kept glancing at him, waiting for him to say something, and continuing with awkward pauses when he didn’t add anything. And by the time Avery had cleared his plate, Lisette had, clearly, gotten fed up with it. “Avery,” she said, “Kavi wants to know who my family is, too. And you’re the only one he’s getting the chance to before the wedding, and that isn’t for months. Will you please act like yourself?”

Avery startled in his chair. “What?”

“I miss the brother who used to sneak out of the castle with me and help me climb apple trees and bought me all the books our parents thought I shouldn’t be reading and taught me how to waltz after curfew.”

Avery blinked. “But Max did all of that.”

“Max did all of that with you. You’re the one that did all of that with me.”

Avery laughed. He couldn’t help it. “Max did not teach me how to waltz, Lisette.”

“He didn’t teach me either! Avery, I spent so much time telling Kavi about you. I want him to actually meet you. Stop being so quiet.”

“I was quiet at home, too,” Avery said, trying to bite back another laugh. “I’m tired. Give me a day or two.”

She leaned across the table to stare him down. “If you’re not acting like yourself in the week, I’m going to chase you around the courtyard with a stick.”

Avery’s helpless laughter was drowned out that time by Kavi’s, and Avery’s eyes darted to him again. He grinned at Avery—not worried about what Lisette had said, then—and stood up. “I think that’s a good reminder to all of us to get some sleep. Perhaps when you’ve gotten a chance to settle in here, Lisette won’t have to threaten you anymore.” He turned to his wife. “Let me escort you back to your rooms. They’re attached to mine if you need anything.” He winked. “Although with any luck, I’ll have wooed you into sharing my bed by our wedding.”

Solon made a disgusted sound from the back of his throat. “Kavi! Don’t be so crass. Her brother doesn’t want to hear that.”

Kavi stuck his tongue out at his brother. “That wasn’t crass, Solon. I was expressing interest. I kow explaining that to you is like trying to tell a fish about the desert, but it’s not inappropriate.”

Solon flushed red. “I’m not that bad.”

“And neither am I. Now I’m going to take my wife and settle in for the night. Good night, Solon.” He inclined his head to Avery. “It was good to meet you, Avery. I hope we’ll get some more time together once you’ve settled in here better.”

He escorted Lisette out the door, and Avery turned to Solon. “Thank you for your hospitality today. It…it’s been more than I could have expected.”

Solon raised an eyebrow as Avery straightened. “And why’s that?”

“Well I—I’m an uninvited guest. And yet—”

Solon gave him a smile, warm and bright, and it made Avery’s stomach flip over itself in a dangerous way. “I’ve been happy to help, don’t worry.”

“Right,” Avery said, which he was distantly aware wasn’t the right thing to say. He backed up towards the open door. “I’ll let you attend to your bed, then.”

He darted out the door before his face could turn red again and before he had to think about Solon and beds again.

~~~~~~~~

“Avery! I was wondering where you’d gone. You didn’t answer when I tried your door earlier.”

Avery straightened from where he was bent inspecting the palace garden’s flowers. “Solon! I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you’d be looking for me.”

Solon grinned. “If nothing else, I am expected to play host to royal visitors. And you’re the only one here that isn’t married to my brother.” He waved an arm back the way he came. “So let me do my job and show you around Alham’s capital.”

It wasn’t as if Avery had any reason to say no. And with the way Solon was smiling, he didn’t want to, either. So he smiled back, nodded, and let Solon lead him out of the palace and into the streets.

With no guards, at least none visible. Solon was dressed in the same unassuming clothing that had Avery mistake him for an attendant instead of a king, and no crown was in sight, but Avery still felt strange as they left the palace grounds, like someone had forgotten to give him a jacket in the winter. Like a weight was missing.

“Today we can go on foot,” Solon said. “We can’t reach everywhere in the city that way, but there’s plenty to see in walking distance.”

Avery nodded and stepped closer to him when a carriage passed by on the street, driving straight past the palace gates. Solon took the opportunity to  lean in and whisper conspiratorially, “To be honest, most of my favorite places aren’t close, but maybe Kavi had a point in acclimating you slowly.”

Avery laughed and Solon grinned back like he was surprised to hear it.

“Well, what fun are you taking us to today?”

“I was going to start with the high street shops. Not that I’m trying to drum up the local economy, although parliament would probably like me to. But it’s also where the most…polite…street performers gather and it’s a good place to see everyone from all parts of the city head to shop. Unless you’d rather do something else? I could do my best to keep you off kilter so your sister chases you around with a stick.”

Avery shoved at Solon’s shoulder without thinking about it, the same way he would have any of his brothers. Solon didn’t budge, and Avery drew his hand back like he’d burned it. “I—I’m sorry.”

Solon caught his wrist before Avery could withdraw completely. “Avery, the treaties between our countries are already signed and I’m not going to take Kavi’s wife away from him.” He’d pitched his voice low and soft like he was talking to a skittish cat, and Avery felt tension melt from his face and shoulders embarrassingly quickly. “You don’t have to worry about offending me. It won’t cause any harm if you do, and I won’t hold it against you, either. We’re both getting to know each other. Are you going to do anything against Alham because I didn’t know who you were when we met?”

Avery blinked. “But you didn’t do anything.”

“I thought you were one of Lisette’s attendants trying to get out of work.”

“So? I thought you were your brother’s.”

Solon laughed. “See? We’re even. We’ve both done things that could have offended each other, and neither of us are mad. Right?”

Avery glanced sideways at him for a moment. “All right. You have a point.”

“So you’ll stop trying to be so careful?”

Avery lifted one shoulder. “I think you’ll be disappointed in how I act when I’m relaxed. Lisette made me sound much more adventurous than I am.”

“That’s okay. We’re starting small today. We can work our way out into the city as far as you’re willing to push yourself. Or until you start kicking me.”

Avery ducked his head and then smiled. “Is that always how Kavi gets you to leave him alone?”

 Solon pressed a finger to Avery’s mouth. “Don’t go telling everyone his secrets.”

Avery’s breath caught until Solon dropped his hand away from Avery’s mouth again, and he pressed his lips together to imprint the feeling on them.

And so he didn’t say anything stupid.

~~~~~~~~

It was apparent by the time the week was out—and Lisette’s deadline had come—that Solon had every intention of taking Avery somewhere in the capital city every single day. At least until Lisette’s wedding, which was only five weeks away.

It was more attention than Avery was used to. More attention than he knew what to do with. But two weeks into his stay, he managed to hide away with Lisette for one of her dress fittings.

“Well, you’re having fun with Solon, aren’t you?” Lisette asked. “Right?”

Avery narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out if she was trying to imply anything. He and Solon had done nothing remotely scandalous. The fact that Solon’s smile and presence was enough to flip Avery’s heart over in his chest wasn’t the point. But his sister could tell. She always knew when he she saw him with someone he’d gotten a crush on.

“I’m enjoying myself here,” Avery agreed before immediately changing the subject away from Solon. “More importantly, are you? Because one of us is staying here after the wedding, and one of us is going home with our parents and brothers. Has Kavi been showing you around?”

Lisette huffed. “We’ve been busy.”

“Busy with each other, or busy with the wedding? Because—”

“Oh, just because I’m not in charge of all of the details doesn’t mean I’m not involved in my own wedding, Avery! It’s in a month and I only just got here and I don’t know anyone yet and—”

Avery clamped his mouth shut as his sister ran out of steam. She was stressed—of course she was; she was trying to build an entirely new life somewhere she’d never been, and Avery had decided she was fine and spent his days entirely occupied with Solon and his ginger cologne that—no, Avery did not need to find someone to bring back to Ensheren. “What can I do to help?”

“Avery—”

“That’s what I’m here for, isn’t it? Our brothers were pretty clear about that. I want to help you if I can, Lisette. Please.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but she smiled while she did it. “So you’re only helping me because they asked you to? Not because you think I need help?”

“Your Highness,” the dressmaker said, kneeling at her waist, “I appreciate your spirit, but if you could have this conversation more sedately at least while I’m trying to pin things in place.”

Lisette went red up to her hairline. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had this done in a while.”

“You had this done two months ago to get that dress you wanted when you saw Kavi for the first time,” Avery said.

His sister scowled at him. “Will you hush?”

“You wanted me to be like this. Threatened me with a stick,” Avery said. “Now tell me what I can do to help you adjust here.”

Lisette’s shoulders slumped, but she caught herself before she did anything more to disturb the dressmaker’s work. “I don’t know, Avery. I just want some time alone with my husband again to get to know him and this country better.

A clap came from the door. “Done.”

Both Lisette and Avery jumped and turned to look at Solon leaning against the door frame. The dressmaker sighed and stood up to take a break and fetch something from his work kit.

“Solon!” Lisette said. “What are you doing here?”

“I was looking for your brother. But if what you need is a day alone with my brother and this city, I can make that happen easily. The wedding details can manage a day without you. In fact, maybe even getting out of the city would be good. Our mother lives out of the city on a large estate near the woods. Would you like to visit her? It’s quiet and private there, but maybe meeting your husband’s mother wouldn’t help.”

Lisette blinked. “Your mother is still alive?”

Solon frowned. “I’m only thirty-one. My father’s death five years ago was very shocking, but it didn’t put my mother in any poorer health. She’s still quite young. She just wasn’t chosen as the next monarch.”

Thirty-one. When Solon had been Avery’s age, he’d taken up a crown. And Avery wasn’t even able to help his sister relax.

Lisette’s mouth opened into a soft circle. “Kavi gave me a brief explanation of how the lineage works here, but I didn’t realize your mother was still alive. Will she be coming to the wedding?”

“Of course. In the meantime, however, what would you like to do to squirrel away some alone time with my brother? I’m happy to do whatever I need to make it happen.”

Lisette hesitated, and the dressmaker attacked her waist with pins while she stood thoughtful and still.

“I think,” she said, “I would like to meet your mother before the wedding. Would she…what’s she’s like?”

“Cheerful, no nonsense, and very pleased Kavi found someone he likes so much,” Solon said. “I can’t promise she won’t have any questions for you, but I think she’ll be quite welcoming—and even if she gives you a proper interrogation, it’ll certainly be a distraction. I can pack you and Kavi off before nightfall and you’ll be there before morning.”

Avery nodded enthusiastically. “Just give me a list of things to handle while you’re gone, Lisette. I can at least do that much for you.”

“I…are you sure?” Lisette asked, pausing with a frown.

“Do you think I won’t do it properly?” Avery asked. “It’s for you, Lisette. I’ll do my best.”

Lisette laughed. “It has nothing to do with that at all, Avery. It just seems strange to let you handle things here while I go somewhere without you.”

Avery stood up, and sidestepped the dressmaker to take his sister’s hands. “That’s what this entire trip is meant to be. Go spend time with your husband. I’ve got this.”

~~~~~~~~

Avery did not have things. His sister left for a week see Kavi and Solon’s mother, leaving Avery with a list as long as his forearm to see to. And he only knew how to do one of them—checking the translation of the wedding program for the foreign guests. But he’d asked after that first. It wasn’t ready to be looked at yet.

And so he gave up his borrowed desk in his borrowed rooms and took the list to Solon’s room, hoping to plead help from him yet again.

Solon answered the door with a surprised smile and welcomed him inside immediately.

“Do you need something?”

“I’m sorry. I know we agreed that you wouldn’t need to host me this week while I took care of Lisette’s things, but I was hoping you could at least direct me to who I need to talk to. Lisette has been handling all of this alone.”

While Solon took him sight-seeing and showed off his favorite statues and museums and strange buildings, and they laughed at things for hours. But Solon knew that.

Solon waved that off. “It was starting to get boring without you around anyway.” He gestured to his desk. “I’ve actually had to get work done.”

Avery couldn’t help a smile at that. “As far as I can tell, Lisette is working on blending marriage traditions, but I don’t know if you have anyone besides the two of us who’s familiar with the traditions in Ensheren, or who I should speak to about implementing them.”

Solon snagged the list Lisette made out of Avery’s hands and spent a few quiet moments reading it. Avery let him and glanced around the room. It looked about the same as every other time he’d been in Solon’s rooms, except that his desk looked like it was being rapidly devoured by papers. And Solon looked the same, except that his hair had definitely had hands running through it, because the waves had gotten untamed and curled up at every angle.

Avery did his best not to stare as Solon read and then handed the list back to him. “None of this should be complicated. Either your sister was making things easy for you, or she managed to tie herself up in knots about it from stress. I know the wedding is only in three weeks, but,” Solon stretched his arms wide, “we’re royalty. This wedding is a national holiday, and a sign of goodwill when your family arrives. Everyone is going to do everything possible to make it happen properly on short notice. Honestly, I could give that list to my secretary and it would be done before your sister comes back tomorrow.”

“Lisette asked me to do it,” Avery said. “I’d like to see to it myself. I don’t doubt your secretary, but…”

Solon nodded once. “Of course. Jan is probably extremely busy as is. He’s had enough to take care of with both of you here. So.” He reached back to the list and tapped the first item. “We can take care of several of these things by talking to the priest. I haven’t had a chance to show you the temple yet, but we have a nondenominational one in the palace. The priest who will be officiating the service works there, and she can refer us to someone who can help with how you do your vows to ensure we do both.”

“We?” Avery asked.

“Avery, I’m very tired of paperwork today. Let me with you, please. Anything to get moving.”

Avery laughed. “Well, I can’t say no to the king.”

“You’ve said no to me three times in the last week,” Solon said, slinging an arm around Avery’s shoulders to steer him back out the door.

~~~~~~~~

Working out wedding details with Solon was much more nerve wracking that it had any right to be. It wasn’t his wedding. But seeing Solon smile at him in the largest chapel Avery had ever seen near the altar while Avery repeated the same steps his sister would make to arrive before the priest and demonstrate taking Solon’s hands as she would Kavi’s, and then teaching the priest how to tie their hands together with his sister’s sash was—

Well. Avery’s heart certainly got more of a workout than he would have if he’d gone sprinting for the same amount of time.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to dance with Solon to set up room for the family dances Ensheren enjoyed to celebrate the unions. He didn’t have to touch Solon while going over the most important menu items with their cook. And he didn’t even have to make eye contact while sorting out who would be kneeling, who would be standing, and when.

They broke from the palace again to hurry over to see the priest from Ensheren. Alham’s capital had a small immigrant population and traveling community—it would get larger now that Lisette was married to Kavi—enough, at least to have a small district devoted to them and their own cultural buildings.

“I can’t believe this place existed in your city and didn’t take me here first,” Avery said as they settled into a carriage to head across the city. “What was that about trying to give me time to adjust slowly?”

“It’s not adjusting if you just insulate yourselves with your people, is it?” Solon asked. “Besides, it takes forever to get there. Do you think they’ll recognize you?”

“Maybe. If they’ve been home recently.”

“Mmm. So you’ve been at more of your official events than you like to pretend.”

“Well, I attend them,” Avery said. “I don’t do much more than that.”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

Avery kicked at Solon’s shin lightly and then turned red at the familiarity. Kavi did that. But Kavi was Solon’s brother. Avery just wanted the excuse to touch him.

“Hey!” Solon said, breaking into laughter. “What was that for?”

“Don’t sound so skeptical. You’ll see when my family gets here. They’ll take over all the final details without me having to do anything.”

“And yet Lisette wants you next to her at the altar, not any of them.”

“Well, she only gets one,” Avery said, avoiding Solon’s eyes. “And I don’t have another role to perform.”

“I don’t think Max is her favorite brother,” Solon said. “That’s all.”

“She’s not even the one who asked me to come. The rest of our family sent me with her. They were very pushy about it.”

Solon sat up straighter in his seat. “Oh. I didn’t realize that.”

Avery shrugged. He didn’t like thinking about it. Lisette hadn’t picked him, and the rest of his family wanted him out of their way for weeks. It made sense, but it still stung. Avery had always done his best, if not to help, at least not cause problems for anyone.

He thought he was still succeeding. Solon liked him, at least. If he and Kavi hadn’t both made it so clear that Solon never thought about romance, he would have even called it flirting. But a friendship with a king was no small thing.

Except when his sister was married to the crown prince of the same country. Then, a friendship didn’t matter. And neither did Avery’s crush on him.

~~~~~~~~

The night before Avery and Lisette’s parents and brothers arrived for the wedding, Alham held a celebration. It would last into the next days, to greet their new allies. It would last at least a week, even with the wedding festivities shortly after.

But the night before they arrived, they heralded the start of the holidays with fireworks.

Solon took Avery out of the palace to watch. He settled them on a patch of grass in a park he’d taken Avery to the first week he’d been there, high on the far edge of the city, with a view of the entire sprawl of buildings beneath them. Plenty of people had joined them to watch the show in the sky over the harbor, setting out blankets and picnic baskets.

“What about Kavi and Lisette?” Avery asked as he settled into one of the same blankets he’d borrowed his first day in Alham to sleep on Solon’s couch. He was wearing the same gold shirt he been given then under his favorite red coat, too.

“Kavi is almost certainly going to take Lisette to the top towers in the palace to watch,” Solon said, unpacking the bag of snacks he’d brought with them. “It’s more private and closer to the fireworks. He likes it better. I think it’s more comfortable to watch fireworks up here.”

Avery hummed. He had to agree. Watching in the palace seemed fancy. Exclusive. But he was with everyone else in Alham who wanted to be there, with Solon at his side, and he could imagine Max wandering around making friends with everyone. Avery couldn’t manage that sociableness, but he liked the idea of it.

It felt like where Avery belonged.

Lisette would like the privacy, though. She’d never gotten much, as the only princess of Ensheren. Avery could blend in better among their brothers.

“Is Kavi nervous?” he asked. “Lisette is torn between nervous and excited. But like you said, everything’s already official. This is just the party to celebrate it.”

“You know, I actually don’t think he is,” Solon said, settling onto the blanket next to Avery and folding his legs so he could rest his arms on his knees. “But he’s never been the type for nerves.”

“Lucky him.”

Solon laughed much louder than Avery’s muttered aside deserved. “I know. I’ve always been jealous. He would have been better at being king than I was, but that wasn’t how the votes went.”

“They get to design your job to your strengths, don’t they?” Avery said. “Yours were what they wanted, not Kavi’s.”

Solon raised an eyebrow and gave Avery the same once over he had when they first met. Avery felt his cheeks go as pink as they did the first day, too, but the sky was almost dark enough that he could believe Solon didn’t see it this time. “And what are my strengths, Avery? Why would they pick me over Kavi?”

Avery went redder, and this time he knew Solon saw it because his grin widened. “You…you’re thoughtful. You know everything about this city, at least, and you can tell me anything about your country any time I have a question about anything. You know how to solve problems, more neatly than I ever would. You know exactly who to ask for help and how. Who wouldn’t want you to be in charge?”

Solon’s mouth fell open and for a brief moment, he was visibly speechless. Then he looked away, swallowed, and recovered enough to say, “Thank you. That’s quite the compliment.”

Before Avery had to think of something else to say to that, the first explosion overhead broke. He turned in unison with Solon and every other person in the park with them toward the sparks of light breaking up the dark sky over the harbor.

Avery had always liked fireworks. He’d though of them as pretty things as a kid, like the paintings on his wall, but when he’d asked how to make them, the chemistry of it had overwhelmed him until he’d given up understanding.

They were magic. Made by talented, clever people with a purpose. And the purpose was to make people happy.

Solon edged closer as the show went on and the air cooled. Avery tightened his jacket around him and leaned closer to Solon’s warm skin.

And he stayed there after the last firework went off and those around them started to pack up and leave, his eyes on the sky. Until Solon shifted close enough to jostle Avery’s shoulder and Avery turned with an apology in his throat for waiting too long after the fireworks were done to help pack things up and leave.

But Solon wasn’t trying to pack up their blankets. He was staring at Avery, his eyes unreadable in the dark, his mouth soft and open.

Avery’s eyes drifted to the shadows playing on Solon’s face from the few lamps in their park that had slowly started being relit now that the fireworks were over. Drifted down to his mouth and stared at it, listing forward the way he had the first day they met and he was unstable and ill and Solon was the only thing keeping him upright.

“Avery,” Solon said, his voice soft, and Avery jolted upright, shaking himself. He’d been about to kiss Solon. Solon, who wasn’t interested in any of that. Solon, who was absolutely not an option for any of a hundred other reasons—starting with the fact that their siblings were married and there was no point. If Solon was going to get married, it would have to be to someone useful.

Solon startled himself as Avery set into action and stood, and he slowly started packing their things up as if he’d just woken from a dream.

Or a nightmare.

Avery avoided Solon the next morning. And the next afternoon. And it was easy to do it at first, with the chaos of preparing for far more royal guests than Lisette or Avery themselves represented. Avery managed to keep well out of his way all the way up until it was time to have dinner with his parents and brothers, and Lisette, Kavi, and Solon, and Solon’s mother.

Solon caught him on the way to the proper dining hall—Solon’s room wouldn’t fit so many people for dinner—and stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Avery! I expected to see you around today. Where have you been?”

“I’ve been around,” Avery said, looking away immediately. “It’s easy not to notice when there’s so many of us.”

“Except that I was looking for you, specifically, not a prince from Ensheren,” Solon said. “And you’ve not been around at all. Are you avoiding your family?”

“What? No, nothing like that.”

“Then what happened?”

“I just think too much has been happening,” Avery said. “There’ve been so many people to help adjust.”

There was a pained sound to their side, and Avery and Solon both turned to see Kavi with Lisette on his arm further down the hallway. Kavi dropped Lisette’s arm and stepped forward, grabbing Avery’s hand with his arm.

“Avery,” he said, “my brother is bad at this. He has no practice, because he’s never wanted to do this before. But he is trying to find out if you want to stay here in Alham. He’s spent the last six weeks trying to convince you to stay, hoping you’d fall in love with the country, so he could keep you around.”

Solon’s face turned redder with every word from his brother. But he didn’t argue or protest any of it.

“Will you—please, Avery, just put my brother out of his misery and tell him if you’re going to stay or not. Before dinner, please. I can’t imagine having to sit through an entire meal with the two of you so awkward around each other.”

Lisette tugged on her husband’s arm. “We should leave them be,” she said. “Avery, don’t come to dinner until you’re done talking to Solon about this. Please.”

“Lise—”

But she didn’t stop, and she and Kavi had turned the corner before Avery could even finish her name, leaving him alone again with Solon.

Avery turned back to Solon, unsure what to say after that. “Um.”

“I—uh.”

They stared at each other in awkward silence for a long moment before Solon finally broke it again. “So? Are you willing to stay? Here? Even after your parents leave?”

“You…you really want me to?”

Solon grabbed for Avery’s hands and took them in both of his. “Avery. I’ve liked you from the moment I met you. I didn’t even know I could like someone the way I like you. But you’re not useless, and you’re not unwanted. You care. You want to know everything about everyone, and you want to do your best to help. Maybe—maybe starting over somewhere without the expectations and your siblings taking care of so much will make it easier for you to find something to do here. You’ve always wanted to date men, haven’t you? Spend your life with one? And your parents and siblings all pushed you to come here, where that’s….where you can do that. They like you, Avery—you’ve never once said you don’t get along with them. And they wanted you to come here, where they wouldn’t be hanging over your head and—and maybe you could marry someone if you wanted.”

Avery blinked, then looked down at their hands. “You really think that’s what they were trying to do?”

“So much so that I asked Lisette about it, and she turned pink the same way you do when you get caught. She asked if I was trying to keep you.”

Avery ducked his head against a growing smile. He could see Lisette asking that. Could see her hoping for that. “If you’ve wanted me to fall in love with Alham, you’ve succeeded. And if….if you wanted me to fall in love with you, then…well…it’s still early. But I think you’re succeeding there, too.”

Solon’s face brightened like the sun and his smile could have cracked his face in half. “So you’ll stay?”

“I’ll have to talk to my parents about it,” Avery said, worming his hands out of Solon’s to rest them on his shoulders. “But if you’re right, I think they’ll be happy for me to stay here. Especially if we have a treaty and they’ll have someone to take care of Lisette.”

“And Lisette can take care of you,” Solon said, tucking his hands around Avery’s waist.

“Mmm,” Avery agreed, a grin growing across his face. “Now if you want me to stay, Your Majesty, perhaps you should start proving it with a kiss?”

Solon’s hands tightened as he jolted in surprise, and he met Avery halfway.

[musical-chick-13]

Okay, no, sorry, I’m still mad about this. “Be critical of the media you consume and examine why you react to it in the way that you do, support marginalized and stigmatized identities.” Yeah, until it’s about mental illness.

A woman (or even man, if he’s deemed over-emotional) makes music about suffering from mental illness and people just go, “What are they complaining about, that’s so immature, hashtag wangst.” (And then, sometimes, inexplicably, if the mentally ill woman gets better and writes happier music, they then talk about how artistically bankrupt she is now and that she should go back to hating herself.) People LOVE cis white pRoBLeMaTiC (straight) fictional men until they are realistically mentally ill, in which case they’re “whiny” and “insufferable” and deserve to die violently, apparently (or, if fandom is merciful, they’re ignored). (And then they celebrate when they DO inevitably get killed off.) “Do your duty and watch [thing I, mc13, personally find insufferable] For The (white) Gays because it has Gays.” Sure, will you watch c4 Pure, the ONLY show specifically about OCD, then? (No, the answer is no, it’s always no.)

I can’t get anyone to watch Doom Patrol. I couldn’t get people (in general-I did convince a few irl friends thank GOD) to watch Crazy Ex-Girlfriend. One of the most popular and acclaimed shows right now has a character with schizophrenia who was turned into the Big Bad Villain for no fucking reason. One of the most commonly-cited examples of Iconic™ queer media involves a mentally ill man being broken over and over and over again before The Ship™ can reasonably happen. DW introduced a major character who was at one point suffering from mental illness in her past, AND THEN ALL MENTION OF THIS WAS COMPLETELY DROPPED IN THE FUTURE, WITH NO BEARING ON ANYTHING TO THE POINT WHERE I FORGOT IT EVEN EXISTED??!?!? R*tched was a thing that existed despite the Sad Sympathetic Backstory treatment being IN DIRECT CONTRADICTION OF WHAT PURPOSE THIS CHARACTER SERVED IN One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. THEY GAVE. A SAD WOOBIE VILLAIN TREATMENT. TO THE /LITERAL PERSONIFICATION/ OF ABLEISM. THAT IS HER FUNCTION. TO EXIST AS A SYMBOL OF ALL THE WAYS SOCIETY OPPRESSES THE DISABLED AND MENTALLY ILL.

I am!!! Literally!!!!! The only one!!!!!!!!! Complaining about these things!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THE ONLY ONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one else has said ANYTHING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! No one is talking about it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I’m so tired!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[wainwrightjakobshammerlock]

plague peepaw

[thecherrygod]

Of course I'm gonna remember the fucked up dream I had today that didn't let me continue sleeping when I'm about to fall asleep.

[bittwitchy]

i thought i'd have time to do a gif pack before i left but i didnt beeches so i'm like 22 gifs into it and halfway through the episode i'll finish either when i get home or tomorrow beeeee

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

so in an attempt to actually use positive thinking, anytime i fuck up and my brain reacts as if ive cause a minor apocalyptic event, i compare my fuck up to the 4 minute fuck up committed by the crew of the uss william d porter.

and only today, as i was having to explain what happened to my mom when i was explaining the whole comparison thing, did i realise that most people dont know about it and ive decided that needs to change because its objectively hilarious.

...which is a weird thing to say about an event that occured on a warship in 1943, specifically november 14th.

see the uss william d porter was a fletcher-class destroyer but you dont need to know what that means, just that she had guns that went bang bang and that she was escorting another ship, the uss iowa, to cairo.

while they were on their way there, they performed some gun trials like testing the anti-aircraft guns or the torpedos. and while they were running a torpedo drill, the crew of the porter managed to fire a live torpedo straight at the iowa which you know, in terms of a list of things to do while escorting a ship, shooting a torpedo at them is not on that list.

especially if the president of the united states is on board.

yeah so fdr was on board and the gun trials were actually his idea, and part of the trials was that they were conducted under radio silence.

and that means the crew of the porter couldnt just call the iowa to be like "move out the way, we accidentally shot a torpedo at you."

but they did have signal lamps and you know, the signalman on board was trained to signal this exact kind of message.

...and uh never mind, the signalman did manage to successfully tell the iowa that a torpedo was coming toward them but wasnt as successful when it came to the direction the torpedo was coming from.

not all hope is lost though because the signalman could still use the signal lamp to correct his previous mistake and-, never mind, he announced that the porter was reversing, which she wasnt.

yeah so at catastrophic mistake number 3, they broke radio silence to warn the iowa and she managed to turn out of the way just in time which meant no one got hurt. and even though the inquiry into the incident led to chief torpedoman (fantastic job title btw) lawton dawson being sentences to hard labour, fdr intervened and waved away his sentence, saying it was all an accident.

but yeah, so thats my new measure for "how much did i really fuck up?" and when i compared accidentally picking up a pencil case without a tag on it in wilko, turns out it was a very minor fuck-up. yes, the cashier had to ask another worker to grab a duplicate so they could scan the barcode, but i didnt nearly kill the president during wartime via accidental friendly fire

[norrisainz33]

Miami Baby | MV33

☆ summary: actress and avid f1 fan visits the paddock for the first time and she is a certain world champion’s celebrity crush.

☆ pairing: max verstappen x famous!reader x grid!platonic

☆ fc & warnings: suggestive! you are responsible for the content you consume.

☆ requested: nope!!

☆ a/n: this was one of the first fics i ever started writing and just havent had the nerve to post it. this is my first time posting a written and smau fic so bear with me here 🥹

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has added to their story

[story 1: guess what i’m up to this week] [story 2: princess treatment fr 💅🏻]

view story replies

user2: MIAMI GRAND PRIX?!

user4: omg are you finally going to a grand prix!!!!???

yourbff: AND SHES DRIVING A FERRARI?!

ynuser: YES!! this is a dream come true

yourbff: i’m so happy for you y/n/n 🤍 FORZA FERRARI!!!!

ynuser: FORZA FERRARI

tomholland2013: Hope you have the best time in Miami!! Z says that you have to come with us to Silverstone tho

ynuser: thank you tommy!! count me in 🫶🏻

user3: MAMA Y MIAMI

user1: car or driver - level impossible

ynuser has made a post

liked by scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, sabrinacarpenter, zendaya and 2,657,101 others

ynuser: hot new driver alert, watch out boys! Make sure to catch my hot lap with The Carlos Sainz and say hi if you see me this weekend in Miami 🫶🏻❤️🏎️

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user3: the way she was giggling like a little kid as carlos whipped the car around , oh i love her

user4: no bc she’s finally at a gp living her dreams

user6: she’s literally just another celebrity?

user5: user6 you don’t know the lore! she’s been an f1 fan since before she got famous and she’s been friends with rebecca and alex for quite a while

carlossainz55: had an absolute blast driving with you! looking forward to seeing you this weekend!

ynuser: likewise!!!

scuderiaferrari: bellissima! ready for an exciting weekend ❤️

iamrebeccad: hottest hot lap i’ve ever seen😍😍

maxverstappen1: hot lap with me next

charlesleclerc: since when do you do hot laps?

user8: AM I READING THIS RIGHT

user9: MAX!???????????

user10: i’m sorry is the max verstappen trying to flirt rn

charlesleclerc has posted a story

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ynuser: thank you charlie 🫶🏻

charlesleclerc: bien sûr y/n

user3: do you wanna be my chauffeur next?

maxverstappen1: charles you have got to introduce me to her

charleslerclerc: to who?

maxverstappen1: y/n

charlesleclerc: max are you ok?

maxverstappen1: what do you mean??? yes, i am ok??

charlesleclerc: i’m just shocked you willingly want to be introduced to someone??? let alone a celebrity?

maxverstappen1: charles 🙄

maxverstapppen1: she may or may not be my celebrity crush ok

charlesleclerc: ohhh mon ami you should have said that sooner

charlesleclerc: i’ll get alex and rebecca on the case 😉

maxverstappen1: oh god no charles i just meant an introduction i don’t need anyone on the case 😭

user12: 3 pretty best friends

user14: the little matching outfits?! im sick

ynuser has added to their story

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user15: you were made to wear ferrari merch

iamrebeccad: can’t wait to show you off to all the other boys 😍

ynuser: but you’re the only one i want 😫

iamrebeccad: i know darling but im not the only one who wants you 😉

ynuser: CRYPTIC what does that mean

alexandrasaintmleux: i’m so glad we finally got you to ferrari mon amour but we should definitely take a walk around the paddock!! you can meet some drivers that aren’t in red - maybe some blue

ynuser: i’ll go anywhere with you

maxverstappen1: i think red bull blue would look better on you

ynuser: blue? perhaps!

user17: begging to know where you got that belt it’s so slay

user22: one of these drivers has got to wife you up you’d be the best wag

user18: can’t wait for all the pictures of you on the grid

ynuser has added to their story

view story replies

charlesleclerc: find max! he’ll help you get back to ferrari

user14: steal all their notes and bring it to ferrari so we can have a better car

landonorris: come to mclaren its way better here

ynuser: ok then come get me muppet i’m lost 😭

user87: steal one of the cars and give it to carlos!!!

user23: ms girl what are you doing there?? i thought you were supposed to be filming your new movie!

iamrebeccad: 🤭🤭🤭

ynuser: oh so you did this on purpose?

user55: project get ferrari a rocket ship is a go

~~

The pit lane was humming with activity as mechanics and team members alike continued with their duties after a productive qualifying session. You glanced around looking for your friends, alex and rebecca, who had convinced you to take this walk in the first place, but you couldn’t find them in the sea of red bull employees. Letting out a sigh you pulled out your phone hoping to see some sort of reply from either them but there was nothing.

"y/n?" a familiar voice questioned, startling you out of your thoughts. you were met with a confused looking max verstappen and you felt your cheeks heat. max was still in his white fireproofs with his suit pulled down around his waist and you'd be lying if you said he didn't look incredible. you may have accidentally admitted to alex that max was your crush on the grid and you had a sneaking suspicion thats why both her and rebecca magically disappeared leaving you here.

"yes! hi max!!" you said quickly, holding out your hand for him to shake. "it's a genuine honor to meet you!" max looked down at your outstretched hand and paused for a moment before taking it in his own.

his hand engulfed yours as a grin stretched across his face, "the honor is mine, y/n - i'm actually a pretty big fan of yours."

"you are?"

max chuckled, "yes? is that hard to believe?"

"no, no .. i just didn't think you'd know who i was! i mean - im just surprised is all," you said quickly, realizing you were stumbling over your words but max didn't seem to be phased.

"don't be surprised, you are quite talented," max took a sip from his red bull can and you watched as his eyes danced around the pit lane. "do you want an escort back to ferrari?"

"yes, please."

"great, come with me," max rested his hand on the small of your back as he ushered you through the red bull garage and back to the paddock. he made idle chit chat as you tried your very best to focus on anything other than the electricity you could feel from where his hand met the fabric of your dress.

"ahh there you are mon amor!" alex cooed as you and max approached the ferrari hospitality. rebecca looked between you and max with a knowing look on her face. you made a mental note to talk to them both later about how they couldn't just leave you places unattended even if it meant meeting max.

"well would you look at this," charles patted max on the back as he walked past taking his place next to alex. he had a devilish smirk plastered across his handsome features as his eyes travelled between the two of you.

"max was kind enough to help me navigate my way back here after alex and rebecca so sweetly ditched me in the pit lane."

"oh was he now? well then we must repay my dear friend! how about you come to the club with us after the race tomorrow max?" charles looked expectantly at his friend.

max let out a sigh, "i suppose i could be persuaded."

"thats the spirit!" charles clapped his hands together, "i'll text you the details mon ami."

a night club? in miami? with max verstappen? this ought to be interesting.

~~

ynuser has posted multiple stories

[story 1: race day let’s go] [story 2: im not crying!! YOU are] [story 3: idk if miami can handle us @.alexandrasaintmleux]

view all story replies

user16: you crying over lando winning his first race is so real

landonorris: i am crying u r right girl

ynuser: as long as ur not cryin in the club

landonorris: not yet !! but the night is young!!

user22: ok body is tea wtf

alexandrasaintmleux: you’re so beautiful i love you so much

ynuser: YOU are so beautiful. i love you more my girl

yourbff: why are you !! a ferrari!!! crying over a mclaren?!

ynuser: bc it’s lando and we love bob in this house

yourbff: ok yeah fine

user12: miami is NOT ready for your hotness that’s for sure

ianrebeccad: ok i need to borrow that outfit from you asap. also pls get to the club faster im stuck here without you both 🥹

ynuser: you’re the one who wanted to “get ready” with carlos and not us soooooo

user44: i’m foaming at the mouth

maxverstappen1: understandable to cry over me not winning

ynuser: i’m glad you get it 😫

user45: that’s not a face card, that’s a whole face economy

user33: who are these divas?

~~

max could feel the music pounding through his chest as his fellow club goers danced to the beat. feeling all sorts of nerves, he brought his gin and tonic to his lips and took a few big gulps hoping the liquid courage would hit him soon. his eyes couldn’t help but follow you as you swayed your entire body to the music without a care in the world. readjusting the hat on his head, he watched as your skirt inched lower on your hips and he could almost feel his mouth start to water.

“max just go and talk to her!” charles yelled over the music pulling max out of his thoughts.

“i can’t.”

“quoi? what do you mean you can’t?”

“she’s just… i just… i can’t!” max finished off his drink and set it down on the table in front of him. “i mean look at her,” max explains throwing his arms up in exasperation, “she’s so beautiful!! i’m not sure i’d even know what to say.”

“just ask her to dance or to get another drink!” charles looked over to you, alex and rebecca as you danced with carlos and lando.

“i can’t.”

“max - if you don’t i guarantee someone else is going to try and make a move on her.” charles was now staring max down with a scowl on his face, “and i know that would upset you more than just growing some balls and talking to her!”

max frowned, realizing his friend was right. “i’m just scared she won’t like me.”

“i have insider knowledge that says she fancies you.”

max’s eyes widened, “and you didn’t lead with that?”

“no because i wasn’t supposed to tell you!! now please for the love of god let’s go get her.”

max and charles navigated their way through the sea of bodies until they made it to your little group. you looked up at max with a bright smile and he felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify. before he lost all of his nerve, he blurted out “get a drink with me?”

you nodded, “i’d love to!” max smiled and grabbed your hand so that he wouldn’t lose you in the mass of people.

there was very little available space at the bar which left you leaning against the counter and max directly behind you leaning against you so that he could hear the bartender. not a single coherent thought was going through your head, all you could focus on was the way max’s body rested against yours, the warmth it offered you, the way he was resting his strong hands on either side of you and how if you turned you’d be face to face and able to kiss him right on—

max tapped on your shoulder pulling you out of your thoughts and earning a slight jump from you. “the bartender asked what you wanted to drink, y/n” max explained into your ear causing goosebumps to spread like wild fire across your skin.

the bartender was looking at you expectantly, “oh! i’ll take a gin and tonic please!!” you panic ordered not being able to come up with anything else on the spot. “so sorry,” you quickly added as the bartender turned to make your drink. mentally you scolded yourself for not being able to get it together but boy was keeping it together hard when the max verstappen was very much taking up your personal space.

after thanking the bartender for your drinks, max took a step back allowing you to turn and look at him. he was in a pair of his classic skinny jeans, a backwards black cap, a black tshirt that hugged his arms perfectly and he wore a soft smile as he looked down at you with his big blue eyes. “wanna dance?” you asked before taking a gulp of your drink.

max’s grin grew, “absolutely.” you decided not to give him any time to reconsider and instead grabbed his hand and drug him out to the dance floor. you could feel eyes on you both but you didn’t care. “i should likely preface this with the fact that i’m not much of a dancer,” max admitted sheepishly. he was taking note of how close you both were now. you had stopped rather abruptly in the middle of the dance floor leaving him so close to you that he could steal your breath if he really wanted and oh boy did he want to.

you laughed effortlessly, “everyone is a dancer if they try hard enough, max!" The DJ began playing a remix of one of your favorite songs and max watched intently as you began moving to the music. He threw back the remainder of his drink and made quick work of discarding it, feeling more courageous now.

you quickly noticed max was still very much standing completely still. “it’s all in the hips,” you cooed putting your free hand on his hips and pushing him so he would move. max obliged and began swinging his hips back and forth timidly, not having a ton of room to move out at the center of the dance floor. "atta boy!" you praised giving him a smirk.

max almost choked on air at that comment from you — what could he say? he was a sucker for praise and that comment gave him the confidence he needed to place both hands on your hips and pull you in so that your body fit snuggly against his own. max had a feeling that this was going to be a very good night.

~~

f1gossip has made a post

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4, user5, user6 and 26,264 others

f1gossip: last night max verstappen and actress y/n y/l/n were seen attending a party with many of the grid members. they seem to have gotten very cozy out on the dance floor sharing quite a few kisses. it’s also reported that the pair were seen leaving together at the end of the night.

view all 249 comments

user1: OMG WHAT MY WORLDS COLLIDING

user2: nah he looks so fine in that hat omg

user8: i knew him offering that hot lap had to mean something

user6: they’re both so hot i’m sure their night was … actually imma stop myself before i get banned

user3: this was orchestrated by alex and rebecca i just know it

user8: i could see charles and lando getting in on it too tbh

user4: jealousy doesn’t look pretty on me but dear lord am i jealous

user5: he may have bagged the baddest baddie alive.. how did he manage that in those skinny jeans

user4: listen those skinny jeans make his thighs look real biteable

user5: and you got me there

user9: need more max and y/n content asap

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! likes and reblogs are very much appreciated 🤍

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[inkskinned]

i was raised by a catholic deacon so as a kid - maybe ages 7 to 14 - i would have told you that abortion was only okay in exception cases like rape. i didn't even really understand any of the terms at play here, only how to parrot that there were "few and far between" exceptions, but abortion-as-a-whole was irresponsible and evil. i believed it was a bad form of birth control.

for context's sake - i still had a flip phone. google wasn't really a thing back then. the whole narrative was akin to the apostle's creed: i don't know that i ever thought about what the words meant, only that this was what i was supposed to say when asked. i remember being in 4th grade and having it down pat - abortion is evil, except in cases such as rape. my father wasn't insensitive, after all - he acknowledged there might be medical necessity to end a life.

what changed was that at 14 i learned how hard it is to prove that a rape has happened.

it was a boy, actually. and his piano teacher. and him telling me, crying, that nobody believed him that he didn't want it. and what if she gets pregnant?

this is the mark in a lot of our lives: at some point, someone will confide in you, and then you see exactly how often it happens. how it happens so fucking loudly, and nobody says anything. how often your friends, nervous, will shakily admit that while they love their partner, there are a few times that they didn't really consent, that they didn't really want it. for others, there are nights half-remembered in bars. for others, they married their partner at 15, so now it's "fine", legally. for others, there are yes moments that felt like a no. there were no moments that were never acknowledged. you say no but are told you actually said yes because of what you were wearing or because he is good at swimming and his life would be ruined or because he's a nice guy or -

in the last 8 years, my father has become radicalized. he now believes in "no exceptions".

but the truth is that there was never going to be a true "exception" clause. there was never going to be a grey area. i am not even really sure they believe in the concept of rape. and if they did - how would you ever prove it? in the six weeks you have to state your case - when it takes years in a court of law - the "rape exception" would simply evaporate under the continued pregnancy. you were never going to have a moment where you could privately tell a doctor - it's because of a rape. there was no box you could check. there was no form you could file. it was always going to be assumed consensual until proven malignant. it was always going to be your fault.

they also knew they couldn't actually sell the rest of us on this idea of it's always blessed. they knew in their hearts that every pregnancy should be wanted. they knew going in that plenty of us - even raised catholic, even having had this shoved down our throats - plenty of us still had too many questions about what ifs.

it's just they just didn't want to come off as monsters. they patted our heads and taught us they weren't insensitive. they just had these beliefs. and then they put their hands on our bodies. and said if you don't listen, i'm going to force them.

[ddejavvu]

Helloo!! Sooo I have a picture of mgg as my lock screen but his face isn’t in the picture and I was wonderinggg if you could write about the girls at the bau seeing your background of your phone and it’s some guy but they don’t know it’s spencer and they ask all these questions about this mysterious secret boyfriend you have and asking to meet him and r is just like maybeeee idk knowing that they have in fact met him and maybe spencer is near by and hearing all this and is just all shy and flustered. If you do write this THANK YOUUU you’re writing it phenomenal, one of a kind, it’s so good!!! <333

"Woah, hubba hubba," JJ's eyes bug out at your phone screen, and Emily, forever on JJ's wavelength, snatches it out of your hands before you can properly dim the screen.

"Who is that?" Emily asks everyone's burning question, and one of Penelope's hands squeezes yours, with nails, to emphasize her urgency.

Your lock screen is a picture of Spencer's bare chest clad only in a blazer, the front open in a lewd V that showcases the dark pink kiss marks you'd spread across the smattering of wiry curls he's grown. It's not something you'd meant to flash your coworkers with, and Spencer chokes on his water while Derek hoots and hollers at it.

"There are some things that should be kept private," Rossi drawls, eyes wide and haunted as he stands, "I'm going to get Aaron and myself another refill, just in case any worse pictures get shown around the table."

Hotch laughs at the older man, amusement lining his features handsomely as the group continues to tease you.

"So, when are you bringing this guy around? Not that we'd recognize him anyways, unless he showed up shirtless with lipstick all over him."

"Derek, you-" You barely stop yourself from saying, 'you have met him', instead swerving into an easy insult, "You're the last person I want to introduce him to. You'll never let us live this down."

"None of us will." Prentiss promises, her grin wolfish, "You'll be lucky if Garcia doesn't manage to track him down using nipple-recognition software."

Your technical analyst cackles into her drink, and Spencer makes a hasty getaway.

"I need the bathroom," He paws with burning cheeks at Derek's leg, ushering the man out of his way so that he can speed-walk to the bathroom. You watch him go, hearing Hotch let out a rare laugh at his urgency.

"Poor Spence," JJ croons, "Did you see how red his face was?"

"That kid's almost thirty and I bet he can't even say the word 'sex' without blushing." Derek scoffs.

"He can't. I've seen it." Garcia confirms, "It's pathetic."

"Pathetic," You snort, but what your team hears as agreement, you mean as contradiction. Spencer was nothing close to pathetic that night- sweet and tender, yes, but pathetic, no. He'd cupped your face while you'd spread a smattering of sticky kisses across his chest, and he'd stared into your eyes when you'd taken the picture, a smile on his face even though he'd known his grin wouldn't be in frame.

"Well get all of it out now," Hotch advises, a teasing tone in his voice, "Spencer won't come back if we're still talking about it."

"I'm happy for you." Dave states, setting his and Aaron's drinks down, "But so help me, Y/N, if I ever see your boyfriend's naked torso again, I'll kill myself."

You refrain from telling Rossi he had just seen your boyfriend's bare torso, last week when Spencer had needed to be stripped of his cold, wet clothes, and thrust into a heated blanket for warmth. No one had batted an eye at his brief nudity, and neither had you, because you'd memorized every inch of his skin. You didn't need to ogle him; you could recall his body from memory.

"I'll keep that in mind." You nod at Rossi sagely, "Just don't go through the rest of my camera roll." You see Spencer exit the bathroom, peering cautiously at your table to see if he can predict the conversation before returning, "Or you'll find a lot worse than his chest."

[shorthaltsjester]

listen. unless a character explicitly states that a difference in lifespan between them and someone they care about is a concern of their’s, lifespan angst is the most boring and meaningless trope you can add to a fic/fan work. like, yes it is sad to lose someone but that is not because of a difference in lifespan. an elf with 1000+ year life expectancy might die tomorrow, a goliath might live longer than expected. it feels extremely reductive to look at characters with different fantasy races and decide that the biggest concern is that one will outlive the other when those characters have expressed no concern about either outliving or leaving their loved ones behind. like, i get the fear of death and trying to understand that through fictional characters but just do it with the ones who have expressed an actual concern with it, not with characters who seem delighted to get to love someone at all, even if it is brief and mortal. we don’t love people because we think it will be forever, and it hurts when the impermanence of the people we love becomes clear. but if i spent as much time factoring together matters of health and life expectancy for the people i love to try to predict when they’ll die so that i’ll be ready to lose them, i would have a lot less time to love them and it will still hurt just as much when they are no longer around.

[lemonlover1110]

Trueform!Sukuna

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*Sukuna being a total girl dad for the daughter he didn't want, that's it. That's the post.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna would’ve never been caught dead like this, but then, he had a daughter. He hates being forced to sit down while his four-year-old daughter is putting his hair into tiny pigtails. All the bows that were made for her are now in his hair, and she keeps adding more. Sukuna wants to leave, mainly because Namie keeps tugging at his hair and he knows he looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t want his princess to throw a major tantrum.

“Are you almost done?” Sukuna asks, clearly desperate to get out of the chair. Unfortunately for him, his daughter doesn’t care. She’s very focused on putting the bows in his pink hair, which obviously match very well since they have the same hair color. He doesn’t want to be mean to her, but Sukuna can’t take it anymore, “Will you hurry up?! I have other shit to do.”

He comes off meaner than expected, and Namie drops the bow in her hand as her bottom lip quivers. At the sight, his heart breaks. He’s raising a spoiled brat, he knows it, but he can’t stand watching her cry. She lets out the first cry, tears streaming down her face– Crocodile tears, but still tears.

“Daddy hates me!” She claims, and she’s about to run away, but Sukuna holds her head. What was that thing you did to comfort her? He takes a moment to think about it, and when he remembers, he picks her up and engulfs her in a hug. 

“Imagine I did this to you.” Sukuna says before giving her a clear example and tugging her head. She whines before crying even louder. That’s not what he meant to do. Sukuna kisses the top of her head a couple of times because that always works for you… It doesn’t do anything. 

He knows he looks ridiculous. Stupid bows in his head of all different colors, a slight tint on his lips and some makeup from earlier on his face, all while he holds a little human and tries to get her to calm down. He does all of this for her and he’s still not even close to being the favorite parent. 

“I love you, princess. You’re everything to me.” Sukuna tries to tell her. How could he not? She’s a mini replica of him. Except, Sukuna doesn’t cry when he doesn’t get what he wants, he takes more extreme measures.

Namie stops the tears when she hears that her dear daddy loves him. She sniffles one last time before gesturing with one of her many hands for Sukuna’s face to come closer, which he doesn’t hesitate to do. Namie smiles before kissing his cheek, which makes the father smile– A smile that quickly goes away, just in case anyone happens to walk by and see.

“I love you too, daddy.” She answers, but that’s not all. Of course it isn’t. Sukuna puts her down on the floor again and she immediately asks, “Can I put more bows in your hair?”

He’s not sure he has space for more, but he doesn’t want his daughter to start crying again. He ends up sighing before answering defeatedly, “Yes. Yes you can.”

[ozzgin]

Its been 6 months😭😭 pleaasseeee make a part 2 of the android x human story im beggingggg😭

-H❤️

Yandere! Android x Reader (II)

Featuring your assigned android partner who is not as devoid of humanity as you originally thought.

Content: female reader, AI yandere, mildly NSFW, based on Caves of Steel

[Part 1] | [More original works]

The case had been solved.

Not only that, but you'd managed to prove that human officers were just as efficient as their robot counterparts. The Commissioner was beyond ecstatic, pacing back and forth in his office and finding new ways to praise your detective skills.

"That'll show those Spacers. They think some glorified tin box can match our skill?"

You frowned at his words and glanced to your side, where the android was sitting. He observed the Commissioner with the same polite smile, no hint of disagreement on his features. Was he not insulted? You questioned him once the formal meeting had finished.

"I have no reason to be offended, (Y/N). It is a personal opinion, and thus I have no control over it."

"So you don't mind people disliking robots to such an extent?"

He pondered your statement.

"I would certainly be upset if it was you who harbored the disdain. The beliefs of other humans hold no meaning to me otherwise."

You couldn't tell if he said it out of politeness, or if he actually meant it. Most likely the former, in order to part on good terms. After all, your partnership has reached its completion. He'd return to the Spacer Colony with his report on human customs, and you'd go back to your regular job.

Except he never left. Days later, he was still sipping on his morning coffee, lounging at your table. You fiddled with your cup in contemplation. Was there anything else left to do?

"When are you leaving, actually?"

The pale man raised his eyebrows in mild surprise.

"Is my presence here of such significant disturbance?"

"What? No!" you swiftly exclaimed, stumbling on your words. His lips widened in yet another cheeky grin. He was teasing you again.

"My assignment on Earth is done, thus I should have returned to the Colony already. That's what you're wondering about, yes? I am awaiting a response from my superiors."

"Whether you can go back?"

"No, whether my transfer has been accepted. I have applied to be your permanent partner."

You could feel your cheeks burning with heat. Was it that obvious to the synthetic that you enjoyed his company? Then again, he wouldn't have gone through such motions just for your sake.

"Why did you..." you probed sheepishly. There was no logical reason for him to keep working in a poorer, less advanced environment.

"Because I want to continue spending time with you."

Nonsense. An artificial being wouldn't make its decision based on such mundane, emotional reasons.

"I don't believe you."

"I understand. It is a faulty answer to come out of a machine. Though unlike common AI assistants, we have been invested with the capacity to develop likes and dislikes. Interests. Wants. It helps with variety and individualization."

"And you want to stay here? If I didn't know you any better, I'd say you have a crush on me or something", you attempted to joke.

A few moments of uncomfortable silence. Had you gone too far with your humor? Was it too cliché of a sentence? You turned away, tucking some strands of hair behind your ear. You just had to be witty, huh?

"I'm afraid I do not know what to tell you, (Y/N)."

"You don't need to say anything, it was a poor choice of-"

"Many social aspects have been implemented into my behavioral network. Workplace rapport, friendships, intimate relationships. What seems to be lacking is the transition from one to another. I know how to act as a romantic partner, but how does one achieve such a title in the first place?"

You gazed at him, incredulous. What was he trying to say?

"I am trying to convey that I am indeed infatuated with you. Which, then, makes my initial explanation dishonest: while I do appreciate our fruitful work cooperation, it is not a main reason for my decision. I hope this clears up any misunderstandings."

You'd never been a romantic. You sometimes flipped through sample pages of contemporary romance books at stores and community centers, but they always felt forcefully cheesy. Predictable. Consequently, you never had any grand dreams of passionate confessions under the rain.

On the other hand, you also didn't expect to be asked out in such a mechanical, calculated manner. Or that a machine would be the suitor. Yet there was something charming about his approach. For the first time since meeting him at the border, you saw him struggle. There was something human-like in his uncertainty.

You stood up from the table, and walked towards the android. Then, you placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder, expressing the mutual feeling and understanding.

His eyes bore an eerie glint to them. It was most kind of you to offer a common ground, but he knew better. The affections you held for him were, with utmost certainty, a mere fraction of whatever overwhelmed him from the moment he encountered you. Limerence, obsession, compulsion, there were many definitions that aptly described his otherwise unexplainable desires towards you. Even more unexplainable was the fact they'd evolved from a blank slate, a programmed agent with no previous knowledge on feelings or humans.

You noticed his hesitation.

"Is there anything else troubling you presently?" you nudged.

Nothing of immediate urgency. Well, not for you, at least. The android remained thoughtful. What were the variables which needed to be met in order to initiate a sexual encounter? Would it have been inappropriate for him to suggest intercourse straight after this conversation? To him, it was a natural escalation he'd considered many times in the past. To you, it could've come as a sudden, crass, and hurried proposal.

He reached for your wrist and discreetly pressed a thumb against your skin. Judging from your resting heart rate, facial expression, and localized temperature, there was a fair chance you wouldn't reject his advances. Once the statistical risk had been assessed, he pulled you in for a kiss.

"Would it be possible to continue this in your bedroom?" he inquired, standing up.

"Alright, just don't...ask for approval for every single step" you retorted. You'd rather not become a narrator of your own pounding.

You open your eyes with a squint, greeted by unexpected natural light flooding your bedroom. Someone must’ve lifted the hologram blinds.

“My apologies, I hadn’t considered the discomfort it would cause you. My Spacer colony uses artificial lightning, though I am becoming rather fond of the natural sun rays here.”

Your android partner is meticulously preparing his outfit for the day. Judging by the stark nakedness and the glistening skin, you suppose he’s had a shower while you were still sleeping. You involuntarily furrow your brows and blush at the sight. He notices your embarrassment. 

“A most surprising reaction. You have seen the very same genital organ…”, he says as he quickly checks his wristwatch, “...precisely eight hours and forty-five minutes ago.”

“It’s just…most people get dressed once they start doing other things. I also wear a towel for coverage when I come out of the shower.”

He processes your words.

“Hmmm. Illogical, but it explains your reaction.”

You stand up and stretch with a prolonged yawn. Suddenly, a revelation hits you: your mind flashes with images of the android fondling your body, your ears ring with the shameless moans you’ve let out throughout the night. Your face turns pale.

“Listen, when is your next functional inspection?” you ask, without waiting for the synthetic to answer. “Will they, uh…will they have access to all of your memories?”

You know that the android permanently records all data and saves it into a memory unit. It’s a pointless fear, of course. The Spacers couldn’t care less about irrelevant details. If the intended tasks are fulfilled, what happens on the side is out of their concern. Yet you don’t exactly appreciate the possibility of your personal deeds airing like this, before the eyes of multiple engineers. 

“You may rest assured, whatever involves your privacy will not be included in the examination.”

“Do you get to decide what is checked and what isn’t?”

“No, most data is sampled randomly.”

You stare at him, confused.

“Then how-”

“It is not common practice, nor encouraged by our code of ethics. I can, however, choose which information is available to begin with.”

“What? I thought you’re fully controlled by whoever created you. If they so desired, couldn’t they open you up and take whatever they require?”

The robot smiles at your assumption and takes a few steps towards you.

“Once an android model is finished, one can no longer modify the processor. Not without compromising everything else with it. It is not a device to be deconstructed, (Y/N).” He taps his temple, then continues: “I am a biocomputer. While most of my parts are mechanical, my processor is a cortical organoid developed in a laboratory. A human brain, if you will.”

Somehow, the discovery fills you with dread. A living organ, encapsulated within a machine. What does that say about consciousness? About self-awareness? The Spacers didn't just tinker with metal scraps and smart computers. They artificially birthed life.

You were always under the impression that your robot companion is closer to the computer you have on your desk. Billions of lines of code within a black box, which then lead to spontaneous, novel interactions with the outside world. To think that at the very core of his functions lies a clump of living cells...

Perhaps you weren't so different, after all. The line between machines and humans is suddenly blurred.