#looks like influencer barf

[archangeldyke-all]

Something with like cellmate prisoner!sevika?! 😭😭😭 idk I just think like her being all dangerous and powerful, having a shit ton of friends but like selectively, no one messing with her maybe even hating how just mean she is. And then comes in reader and yk. I’d love if the story was smutty but u can chose ofc 🫦

i love this so much

men and minors dni

living in zaun is shit. but the one thing that's always kept you and a majority of your fellow citizens in line, was the ever-looming presence of stillwater prison just a few miles away. you've watched countless people enter those prison walls. you know very few who ever came back out.

and now, through a series of unfortunate events that lead to you assaulting an undercover enforcer, you're going to find out first hand just how horrible stillwater really is.

you don't think you've ever been so nervous in your life as the enforcer guides you-- restrained and already hating the itchy fabric of your new life-long uniform--down a long, long hall of cells.

he's chewing a wad of bubblegum, casually, like you aren't about to piss yourself with nerves. "listen kid." he says, looking you up and down. "i read your file. seems like you were just in the wrong place at the wrong time." he says, shrugging. "no prior arrests, clean record-- honestly i'm surprised they sent you here, but i guess you did break marcus' nose." the enforcer chuckles here.

"you know that asshole?" you ask. the man guiding you snorts.

"'s my boss." he mumbles. beside you, a prisoner lunges at the bars of their cell, screaming at you. you jump, and the guard laughs. "as i was sayin'-- you seem like a real peach. like you'd be a good influence on some of our... rougher prisoners." he mumbles.

dread starts to curl in your stomach. you have a pretty good idea of where this conversation is headed, and you don't like the outcome. you just hope you aren't cellmates with someone real bad: like genie the counter-fitter who got caught two years ago; esmee the weapons expert who successfully set an entire square block of piltover's wealthiest neighborhood ablaze; or, god forbid, sevika.

she'd been caught just weeks ago, smuggling an entire airship's worth of shimmer into piltover's loading docks. it was big fucking news.

sevika's a big fucking deal.

and you want absolutely nothing to do with her.

which is why, of course, the guard pulls you to a stop right outside of the only cell with a light on, the low, dim glow of a reading lamp and the quick flickering light of a lighter. you feel like you're gonna barf.

sitting in the shadows of the cell, puffing on a hand-rolled cigarette, sits sevika, silco's second in command.

if he's the eye of zaun, she's the arm. he might be watching-- but she's doing. she's nothing but bad news; everything you've tried your best to avoid while living in the undercity.

well, look how well that turned out for you.

"sevika, meet your new cellmate." the enforcer calls out. a pair of silver eyes snap up from her book and lock on yours. you shiver.

"fucks' wrong with her?" she mumbles. you gulp.

"nervous, i'd assume. 's her first-offense." the guard says. he shoves you into the cell and you jump as the bars slam shut behind you. "you ladies have fun." he says, before turning and walking away, the smacks of his gum echoing behind him.

sevika inspects you from her chair.

"how'd you fuck up so bad you ended up in a cell with me from your first offense?" she asks, seemingly intrigued.

"punched an undercover enforcer." you whisper. sevika's eyebrow hitches up, a little amused.

"yeah?"

"think his name was marcus, or something." you mumble. she sputters.

"ha! really!?" she asks, a little smile growing on her face. you nod. she takes a drag off her cigarette, then points at the bunk beds. "i get bottom. don't go thinkin' 'cause we're cellmates it means you get to touch my shit. i got people outside pullin' big favors for met to get shit like this." she gestures to her cigarettes and lamp. you nod. "don't look so nervous. i won't bite unless you piss me off."

you try to stop shivering. you don't succeed. "s-sorry."

she studies you for a moment, her smile growing as she does. though she's no longer armed with shimmer, her arm's still in perfect working condition, five little daggers gently tapping on the table top as her eyes dart across you. "you from the lanes?" she asks. you nod. she snorts. "you know who i am?" she asks. you nod again. she chuckles, then stands. she approaches you, circling around you like you're prey, then chuckling and leaning back against the table, crossing her arms over her chest. "you scared'a me?" she asks.

"shouldn't i be?" you choke out.

it seems to be the right answer. sevika laughs, then sits back down at her table, picking her book back up, chuckling intermittently for minutes after.

she's not a bad roommate. she's surprisingly tidy, always quiet, her nose usually buried in a book. she smokes like a fucking chimney, and you've come to find she gets her tobacco-- and sometimes a bit of weed-- from one of the guards every tuesday night.

she's got special privileges among most of the guards. they're always sneaking her books and flasks, letting her get away without cell-searches, letting her read past lights out and have lighters and screwdrivers and other dangerous, weapon-like tools.

you, on the other hand, do not have these privileges. and, keeping in line with sevika's one and only rule, you don't touch her shit. all of this means that while sevika smokes and works on her arm and reads and works out, you spend your time just... sitting on the top bunk. watching her.

sometimes, during open cell time, she gets visitors. you're surprised that none of these visits end in shady dealings-- sevika doesn't seem to need to trade her stash of goods for anything. most of her visits are quick, and most end the same way: a small scrap of paper being shoved in sevika's hand.

she burns the scraps after she reads whatever's on them.

she's... pleasant, sometimes. it's rare, but it happens. one day, you'd forgotten to make your bed before you went to breakfast. you returned to find it neatly made, and when you thanked her for helping you avoid trouble with the guards, she had just waved it off. "don' get used to it. i won't always be here to fix your mistakes."

once, a fight broke out while you were in the showers. you were sent back to your cell soaking wet-- your hair still lathered in shampoo. she had chuckled, called you a "wet rat", and helped you rinse your hair out in the tiny sink in your cell.

and... she's kinda pretty. it occurred to you one evening while the two of you were partaking in your nightly routine: sevika reading in her chair while you study her, pretending to sleep. she'd glanced up at you and whispered. "why're you always lookin' at me?"

you shrugged, then nearly choked on your tongue when 'you're pretty' almost slipped out of your mouth. "uh... i got nothing else to look at." you'd ended up saying. she seemed to accept this.

"you don't have any prison girlfriends?" you ask. sevika's in a particularly jovial mood today: the note she'd been delivered earlier in the afternoon must've had great news. she's decided to share her joint with you. the question slipped out the second you took your first puff-- your tolerance astronomically low from being without for so long.

sevika laughs. "nah."

"but..." you cut yourself off before you get yourself in trouble, biting your lip. sevika chuckles, then nudges your leg.

"y' can say it." she says. you smile at her, then speak.

"it's just... i had a few friends who work at babette's." you say. "i figured you'd have as much of a reputation here as you do there."

she takes a second, tilting her neck side to side as it cracks, then sighing. "i got shit to do in here." she says simply. you raise an eyebrow at her, biting your lip again, and she chuckles. "say it." she demands again.

"you just read all day." you laugh. sevika nods.

"i'm... working." she says. you just nod along, pretending you understand what she's alluding to.

it happens in the strangest way but you and sevika start to become... friends.

she sits alone at lunch, and you sit alone too, on the oppisite side of the cafeteria. but you're so used to looking at sevika, that you find yourself watching her even when there are much more entertaining things to look at, like the handful of fights that break out every meal.

you notice she loves the jello cups you guys get once a week. so you pocket yours and toss it at her later that night. the way she smiles lights up the room even brighter than her tiny lamp. you make it a habit.

she starts loaning you her books, finds you a crate to sit on by her table while you guys read together at night.

and when sevika gets jumped in the middle of the night-- you don't even question it before you jump out of your bunk, grab sevika's screwdriver where she left it on the table, and start swinging in the dark, blindly.

"what the fuck?" someone squawks when you manage to stab something in the dark.

"what?" sevika whispers in the dark.

"sevika, your bunkmate fucking stabbed me!" her attacker's voice rings out.

a light flicks on. you cringe at the sudden brightness, then blink in confusion as sevika and a guard with a screwdriver sticking out of their shoulder stare at you.

sevika's grinning. the guard is scowling. you hold your hands up in shaky fists, preparing for a fight. sevika chuckles.

"relax, sweetheart." she says, swinging her arm around you and tugging you into her side. "ran's a friend." she whispers into your ear. you blink at the bleeding guard, then back at sevika.

"so, what, we're taking your girlfriend with us now?" the guard-- ran-- asks. sevika looks at her friend, then looks at you, a calculating look in her eye. she smirks, shrugs, then looks back at the guard.

"she threw herself between me and a uniform-- can't just throw that kinda loyalty out, now can i?" she asks, smiling.

you don't know what's happening. you're about to ask-- when suddenly you black out.

the first thing that comes back to you is your sense of hearing.

voices.

"sevika, fuck, you can't just throw a wrench in the plan like this--"

"i can do whatever the fuck i want--"

"on the night of the breakout?! no heads up!?"

"do i need to remind you which one of us is second in command, here?!"

"...fuck. c'mon, help me load her in the van."

the next thing is your sense of touch. you're laying on the rumbling cold steel of a van floor-- currently in motion.

you're shivering, but then something warm and wool and smelling like cigars is draped over you.

you're head keeps bumping uncomfortably with every crack in the road. someone gently picks your head up and puts it in their warm nap, a hand coming down to scratch your scalp.

your voice comes next. "mmmh?"

"it's okay." sevika's voice comes. you groan, cracking your eyes open, only for her face to be grinning down at you. "fuckin' maniac." she giggles.

"wha?" you groan. you're seeing double, your head is pounding.

"ran knocked you out. 's what you get for stabbin' 'em." sevika chuckles. "but, you're lucky, 'cause they don't hold a grudge. they helped me lug your ass outta stillwater."

"wha?!" you ask again, snapping up. sevika laughs as you look out the front window of the van-- the depths of piltover surrounding you as you head, presumebly, to the last drop.

you recognize the man driving-- a tall, muscular, tattooed man who'd recently been added to your cell block's guard rotation. in the passengers' seat sits the guard you'd stabbed-- bandaged and watching you with amusement.

"wha's happenin'?" you mumble, looking back at your cellmate as you clutch a hand to your throbbing head. you've been shrouded in a red cloak-- sevika's already out of her prison uniform and back in her 'second in command' look. she smirks at you.

"y' really think i was jus' sittin' around, servin' my time?" she asks. you shrug.

"figured somethin' was goin' on. y' kept gettin' those notes. didn't wanna ask." you groan. sevika chuckles.

"well, you shoulda. or i shoulda warned you, so you didn't try killing my crew." she chuckles. you blink over to the person in the passengers' seat, cringing.

"s-sorry." you mumble. they wave it off.

"'s cool. knocked you right the fuck out, didn't i?" they chuckle. "we're even."

you turn back to sevika. "you broke me out of prison?" you ask. she shrugs.

"'re you mad about it?" she asks. you gawk at her.

"uh... just... a little surprised?"

sevika cackles. you smile at the sound, despite your headache. "i wasn't plannin' on it! then you started givin' me your jello, 'n readin' all my books, 'n..."

"she's got a crush on you." ran fills in from the front.

"i didn't say that!" she shouts.

"she's not denying it though--" the man driving teases.

you choke on your spit. sevika huffs, rolls her eyes, and speaks. "i... i kinda got a crush on you, yeah." she mumbles. "and i swear i'm not sayin' this jus' 'cause i think you're cute but: you should really stay with us at the last drop until things calm back down, since, y'know... you're kinda wanted now..." she says, rubbing the back of her neck.

you blink... shocked.

you don't really know what to think. you tried your whole life to stay out of trouble, and it managed to find you anyways in the form of a drunken under-cover enforcer deciding to smack your ass when you'd had too many drinks to hold your punches. you tried to stay out of trouble in stillwater until you were saddled with sevika. you tried to stay out of trouble with her until she dragged you-- literally, you were unconscious!-- out of prison along with her. it seems like trouble's meant for you.

but if there's one thing you're certain of, it's sevika.

you smile at her, then reach up to cup her cheek. she looks more nervous than you've seen her in all your months in stillwater together.

"you gotta crush on me?" you ask. she gulps.

"i'd say it's a little more than a crush seeing she broke you outta stillwater as your first date--"

"ran!" sevika hollers. you chuckle.

"is this our first date?" you ask, raising your eyebrow at her. she shrugs.

"it's... jus' don't expect the next dates to be this exciting." she chuckles, rolling her eyes. you grin, then dart forward and press a kiss to her lips. when you pull away, she's wearing that same nervous look again.

"you okay?" you whisper. she licks her lips, nuzzles a bit against your hand on her face, and nods.

"'m just kickin' myself for not puttin' the moves on you sooner. coulda been fuckin' you to pass the time in prison instead of readin' all those boring books." she mumbles. you burst into laughter, and she grins.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @sapphicsgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @love-sugarr @chuucanchuucan @222danielaa @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub

[toweroftickles]

Hi (:

What do you think about characters of "Inside out 2"? Do we have some lees here?

Ok I somehow didn't experience the original Inside Out until like 2 weeks ago, and then immediately rushed to theaters for the second one, and I have not been able to stop thinking about it since! Of course the first thing I started daydreaming about was the chaos that would ensue in Brain HQ during tickles. So yes, I've definitely got headcanons. XD

EMOTIONAL * RESPONSES

When Riley Gets Tickled

Joy squees, claps, bounces up and down, the usual. "AAAH Tickle time! Awww, our girl is still so adorable..."

Disgust: "Mm-mm. I hate this. Hate it. Majorly messing with my zen."

Sadness: *confused and a little uncomfortable*

Fear: *open-mouthed and deeply uncomfortable*

Envy gasps and hops up to the screen. "Omigosh omigosh they're touching us. That means they like us and think we're cute, right? Right?!"

Anger: "Oh, so that's how it's gonna be, huh?! You want a fight, kid?! I'll give ya a fight! Right up your -"

Anxiety: "Wait! There's a million possible variables in what'll happen if we decide to fight back! Accidentally punching them would be devastating to our network!"

Joy's not paying attention, she's too busy laughing and hammering the serotonin injector.

"I-I got it! Scream! Just holler, really loud!"

"GUHH, get out of the wayyyy; stop hogging this thing! We have to run! Come on!"

Ennui: *exists in French*

*Meanwhile Embarrassment is just spread out like a starfish and rolling his entire girth back and forth across the keyboard.*

When Riley's Tickling Someone Else

Joy takes the wheel here. The others know not to disturb a master plying her craft. She's an expert tickler, so she feeds Riley a whole bushel of fun ideas, and Envy is her eager troublemaker minion.

There is in fact a dedicated "Tickle" command button. The plastic is slightly stuck in the slot because it hasn't been used much.

Anger keeps trying to grab his levers and switches, but Joy usually shoves him to the side with her foot.

*tries to wrest control from Joy and rein her in*

*barfing in the corner somewhere*

When a Tickle Scene Pops Up in a Movie

Joy giggles happily and squirms in her seat, then boops the control panel so that Riley follows suit.

Disgust is a tiny bit antsy...she's not influencing Riley yet but she's on standby in case stuff gets weird.

Embarrassment gingerly taps the console at increasing intervals until Sadness pulls his arm away.

Ennui: Probably watching something else. Or doomscrolling.

When Someone Asks Riley if She's Ticklish

*screams like a little girl*

*hides, bangs head on the desk*

"That is NOT funny!"

"Oh no! What do we do; whaddawedo?! Riley's way too ticklish! What if they tickle us and don't stop for the rest of eternity?! What if they think Riley's laugh is weird and we're socially ostracized and forced to get a job in a fish cannery?!"

“Ew ew ew ew no. Lie. We have to lie right now!” *jumps for the controller*

*Joy grabs Disgust's arm* "Whoa whoa whoa, eeeaasy there. Let's just calm down...this is a fun question; we're having fun..."

Envy: "Ooo, what if they're ticklish and they want us to tickle them?" *already wiggling her fingers in the air*

"But if we misread that signal and make them mad at us, then..."

Ennui: *groans and taps her console app*

Riley, being super casual: “Meh…a little. Not really.”

Suddenly Riley's eyes dilate. Her throat hitches and there's the tiniest bit of pink in her cheeks. Everyone turns their heads to look at -

“EMBARRASSMENT!!! *dry heave* WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?!”

"Ohhhh boy. There it is. We're doomed now."

When They Get Tickled Themselves

Come on, we all know that Joy always draws first blood. (Er...first giggle?) She's such a switchy monster. Tickling is her default method of cheering others up. It's canon. Case closed.

As someone whose default setting repels positivity, Sadness is not ticklish at all, and this actually upsets her.

*silently grabs the tickler by the neck and tosses them out the window*

Nobody protests like Disgust. She gets mad. She slaps. She hurls insults. She runs away. Disgust is both extremely ticklish and extremely touch-averse, so this is Code Red for her.

Fear is the type who doesn’t so much “laugh” as “have a shrieking, spastic outburst and breakdance like Sonic the Hedgehog in a malfunctioning taser-testing facility."

At first, Anxiety is overcome by stressful jitters, miserable and whimpering, and her whole body contracts. After a few moments of tickling, though, she starts to let all that tension out and relaxes into nervous vibrato laughter. It becomes sort of a therapeutic stress release, like her special chair.

It's not exactly the physical sensation of tickle torture that Envy craves, it's the attention. The sound she makes when tickled oscillates between wild, snorty cackles and the dulcet hoots of a baby owl trapped in a pinball machine.

Ennui is dead. No reaction. Her body is a neurological cemetery. ...EXCEPT for her heels and the back of her knees. (And if you thought phone loss made her experience Vietnam flashbacks...)

What do you think Embarrassment does? He plops himself down on the floor and pulls his hoodie so tight around his face that no one can tell if he's laughing or sobbing.

Misc.

As Riley's primary protector, Fear is always scouting ahead for any potentially-tickly environmental hazards, and gently nudges her away from catastrophe ("you forgot your shoes! put them back on before you walk on grass;" "don't lift your arms up around Bree and Grace;" "those massage chairs in the mall are actually full of rusty knives and drug dealers sleep on them;" etc.)

When Riley gets tickled, the emotions don't "feel" it, exactly, but they perceive something of a contact buzz.

These are typically how the reactions go, but they're not universal. If Riley's been in a bad mood, Anger might be more proactive in grabbing the handles. Embarrassment may have more or less of his body mass pancaking the buttons, depending on who's tickling her. (Like...a boy?! Or Val?! Or -) Standard variations like that.

Riley

Riley has an extremely ticklish tummy! She’s sensitive all over, but that's her death spot. (Just the vibe I get; IDK.)

Bree and Grace are really ticklish too, but Riley is the weak link... the member of the trio that the other two team up against. Lots of tickle fights and sneak attacks.

She obviously loves to laugh and goof around with her friends, but probably isn't over-enthused by that last part.

Val

The most popular girl in school, the tough athletic one - her adulating devotees wouldn't think it, but beneath that too-cool exterior, Val is very vulnerable to tickling.

All the other Firehawks know, and like to tease Val by poking her.

She's a good sport about it and takes it like a champ - just yelps and laughs and pushes back. They have fun.

Her biggest weakness is her feet.

Lance Slashblade

Crop top alert. The abs are asking for it. (Just sayin.')

The thought of being tickled is intolerable to him. Even in this...what should be a moment of joyous camaraderie...he is haunted. Forced to laugh like...like some sort of...clown swordsman?! How could he be so weak...so degraded...so unworthy to carry the holy blade of his ancestors, they whose destinies were written in the stars ere these centuries long past? Will he never be a true warrior, with the strength to stem the tide of encroaching night? It is too painful to think about...the icy whips of humiliation, always ravenous and bitter in their lashes, strike! and cast him into the shadows and okay the joke's over now we're getting long-winded and edgelordery big words drama sparkling vampires and junk

(Also, yes, he Morph-Balls himself.)

[luv-lock]

I just really hate Mary Sues. And in every fic that I read y/n is a fucking Mary Sue. Or like every movie these days have a Mary Sue in it. Like be for fucking real. No one like these type of characters. Look:

Do you like these two? Because I sure as hell don't. Here’s the deal with Mary Sues vs. actual good characters, and I’m gonna break this down because I cannot with this nonsense. Writing a Mary Sue happens when someone’s like, “Oh, I wanna write a strong female character!” and they just slap together every cool trait they can think of without actually building a character. It’s like, "She’s hot but doesn’t know it, has tragic backstory #593, genius-level IQ, everyone loves her, and if they don’t, they’re clearly evil or jealous." Barf.

Now, if you wanna write a real strong female character, here’s the playbook:

1. Stop Writing a Female Character. Write a CHARACTER.

Forget she’s a woman for a second. What’s her deal? What’s she want? What’s in her way? Give her flaws that actually matter, not some “cute clumsiness” or “she’s just too kind!” crap. Flaws make her real. A strong character doesn’t have to bench-press tanks; strength comes from resilience, adaptability, and how they handle their messes.

2. Nobody Likes a Cheat Code.

You know what makes people root for your character? Watching them struggle. Don’t hand them every skill or answer. Put them through the wringer. Have them fail—hard. Mary Sues never earn anything; they’re just handed power and respect because “she’s not like other girls.” Good characters earn their wins. If your character doesn’t bleed for what she wants, why should we care?

3. Balance Strength and Vulnerability.

Strong doesn’t mean invincible. It means being able to stand back up when the world punches you in the throat. Let her be scared. Let her cry. Let her doubt herself. And then let her keep going because that’s what real strength looks like. If she’s perfect, untouchable, and always right, she’s boring.

4. Let Her Be Human (or Alien or Whatever).

Give her personality. Let her be messy. Maybe she’s sarcastic, or petty, or overconfident. Maybe she makes bad decisions, hurts people she cares about, or screws up big time. Real people have layers. Mary Sues? Flat as a pancake.

5. Don’t Make the World Revolve Around Her.

Not everyone needs to love her, and that’s fine. Some people can think she’s annoying, or just not vibe with her, or even outright hate her. The world doesn’t stop spinning just because she walked into the room. She’s gotta prove herself like everyone else.

6. Context, Baby.

A character’s strength has to make sense in the world you’ve built. If she’s a skilled fighter, how’d she learn? Who taught her? If she’s a genius, what’s her field? Why does she care about it? Don’t just say, “She’s the best at everything!” Show her working for it—or struggling because she can’t.

Final Thought: Stop writing characters like they’re auditions for Instagram influencers. Nobody gives a crap about perfect people. Write someone who makes you feel something—anger, sadness, joy, whatever. If you can do that, congrats. You’ve written a strong character. If not, congrats—you’ve written a cardboard cutout with a sparkle filter.

[justwinginglife]

After All This Time

Have yall seen the gorgeous man that is Howl Jenkins Pendragon? I had to make it NSFW, I just had to.

Howl leads Sophie out to the balcony for yet another romantic kiss, awash in moonlight.

You think you might barf. That, or claw out your own heart. You can’t tell what’s more distracting, the acid threatening to rumble up your throat or the aching in your chest threatening to consume you whole. You almost feel guilty for just how heartbroken you feel whenever you see them together.

They’re a cute couple. Much cuter than you would ever be with him. The whole time you’d known him, he’d been searching for her. He would repeat to you the same story about how she had appeared to him, almost like in a dream, asking him to come find her. She was all he’d ever wanted, even before he’d even known her. And why wouldn’t she be? She was kind, even to you. Made your favorite foods whenever you were down, taught you how to tie bows in your hair. And yet, all you could do was despise her. You felt like shit.

But some part of you, some wretched part you’d hidden deep inside your darkness, though apparently not deep enough, felt like Howl belonged to you. He’d met her first, but only for a few seconds before she’d vanished into thin air. It hardly counted as a meeting, in your opinion. You met him soon after; you’d run away to get lost in the meadows and the mountains after your family had renounced you, and that’s when you caught sight of his raven black hair fluttering in the wind as he picked flowers without a care in the world. That was honestly probably the moment you fell in love with him, though you denied it until it was too late.

You remember you laid in the field with him for hours that day, plucking petals, talking secrets and aspirations. You didn’t care that he was some stranger you’d just met, you were a kid, and he was your savior. He offered you a home and you offered him your life, said you’d help him find the girl he was searching for. Really, you would’ve done anything just to stay by his side.

Your most comfortable nights were when he snuggled in bed beside you, keeping your nightmares at bay with his sweet words and intoxicating scent. He’d read you stories to pass the time, and you’d fall asleep in his arms, listening to the familiar rumble of his voice in his chest as you snuggled up against it. Sometimes he’d tell you stories about his own life. Your favorite one was the day he met you. You’d beg him to tell you that story over and over, and though he’d laugh and tease you because you already knew the story having lived it, he’d cave in and humor you anyway, each and every time, without fail. He could never resist you (though sometimes he tried, because he thought it was cute when you pouted.) When he’d finally start telling the story, you’d smile the biggest smile and he’d wonder why he ever stalled in the first place, when he had such a sight to look forward to. Sometimes he’d change up details of the story just to make you laugh, say you flew in on a spaceship, say he was 10 feet tall the day you’d met. It wasn’t hard to make you laugh. Howl loved your laugh and you loved to make him happy. You gave every part of yourself freely.

You weren’t always the best influence on him, but you were his perfect match. One weekend, the two of you didn’t have enough money for food, so he stole a loaf of bread from a merchant he hated. When he sheepishly admitted his crime to you, ready to defend himself with his growling stomach as hard evidence, you smirked and uncovered a basket full of pastries you’d stolen from the same baker. He laughed so hard he fell into the fireplace and you had to rinse ashes from his hair. The two of you toasted your loaves of bread and munched on them together, giggling and nudging each other the rest of the night.

The “partner in crime” act continued when you decided to pursue magic together. You almost got yourselves kicked out of your training because the two of you would play pranks on the rest of the class. Sometimes they were justified and sometimes they were not, but they were fun either way. One time, a bully jeered at Howl’s jet black hair and you turned him into a worm. Unfortunately, that was also the day Howl had started to dye his hair blonde, though he claimed it was unrelated. You made every effort to tell him you adored the way he looked before, and it broke your heart that he wouldn’t listen. He’d say you were just like his sister and it was your job to lie to him and tell him he looked good. You didn’t have the guts to tell him that you’d always loved the way he looked, that you’d always loved him. You didn’t have the guts to beg him to see you as something different, to beg him to see you as something more.

When your first Christmas with him started quickly approaching, you used the only skills at your disposal to make him a pink coat with blue diamonds patched onto it. He loved it so much that he wore it everywhere, and when he finally started to outgrow it, he begged you to make him the same jacket a size larger. And then another size larger. And another, until he was fully grown, fully handsome, and still wrapped in the evidence of your secret love for him.

For the longest time, it was just you, Howl, and Calcifer in his castle. And for the longest time, you wondered if he could just let go of the Sophie thing. You were happy the way things were, why couldn’t he be happy too?

You even thought he might have started to love you back at some point. He’d blush when your shirt would ride up. He’d freeze when you’d brush up against him, even though you had spent many nights sleeping in each other's arms when you were kids. He’d compliment you more, every word carefully handpicked, like he’d spent time thinking about all the ways he adored you.

But then he found her. And he remembered the one thing he wanted.

He’d spent so long looking for her, it didn’t seem right to quit now, though you would’ve happily persuaded him otherwise.

And when you met her, when she was talented, when she was generous, when she was spunky, your heart crumbled to pieces. She was the perfect woman. His perfect woman. And suddenly the weight of your hopes, of your dreams, of your love, came crashing down on you, leaving you devastated in the aftermath.

So tonight, you choke back more “what if’s” as you gaze into the glow of the fire, wondering if you can just feed yourself to Calcifer. Of course, he’d never do that. He was rooting for you. He was the only one; you’d given up on having Howl, at this point.

You hear the door open but don't move from your spot. You think you vaguely hear Sophie mumble a shaky “goodnight” to you, but it’s in between panted breaths, and you almost puke again thinking about just how much oxygen he must’ve sucked from her lungs with that kiss. You say nothing, biting your lip until it bleeds. She goes to bed.

You hear the door open again, and find yourself increasingly more interested in the embers, not wanting to look over at him, not wanting to see his love-drunk expression.

He plops down beside you, sighing happily. There’s that puking feeling again.

You don’t say a word and he nudges you with his shoulder. “Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head.

He raises an eyebrow at you. “And can I ask why you can’t sleep?”

You shake your head again.

“Can I at least ask why I can’t ask?”

“Nope.”

He rolls his eyes. “C’mon. It’s me. You know you can tell me anything.”

“No, thanks.”

He sighs, exasperated. “You barely talk to me and when you do, it’s not more than two words. What is going on with you tonight?”

“Nothing. Just can’t sleep.” Then you smirk. “See- I said more than two words that time.”

He laughs, glad you’re back to joking with him again. “Gods, you’re stubborn, you know that? And a bit of a jackass.”

You laugh at that. “It’s a good thing you love me anyway.”

He blushes. “Bold of you to assume I love you.”

You nudge him with your shoulder. “You better love me at least a little, we are best friends, you know.” You hope he can’t hear the tone in which you say the word love, like you’re not holding your breath, waiting for a confession after he’s just sent his girlfriend to bed.

“Right. Yeah. We are best friends. I do love you, of course I love you. Because we’re friends.” He stumbles on his words and you have the audacity to find it cute. His girlfriend is waiting for him to come to bed, and you’re sitting here, coaxing the word love from him, like you’re not going to purposely misinterpret it later, like you’re not going to go lie in bed after this, staring at the ceiling for hours, just dreaming about the way he says he loves you. You thought you knew better than this.

Apparently you don’t. You answer like an idiot. “And I love you too. As a best friend.”

The blush crawls up his face and tinges his ears red. “Yup. Friends. Best friends.”

The sight makes you choke on your laughter, and for a minute you almost forget just how serious this moment is. “Howl, why are you being weird?”

He scoffs at you. “I’m not being weird. I’m being normal.”

You pinch his cheek. “You’re being so awkward, what gives? It’s just me.” You nudge his shoulder as platonically as you can, but you know it’s just because you’re dying to touch him somewhere, anywhere.

He makes a strangled noise. “You’re being embarrassing, that’s all.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, ignoring the thumping in your chest. “And how am I embarrassing you, Howl?

He sighs, your close proximity to him somehow relaxing him and making him tense up at the same time. “You’re being so touchy… and you say you love me… but as a best friend.”

“And are we not best friends?”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. “Yes, we are. But somehow I get the feeling that you mean something else when you say that. When you say you… love me.”

“And what do you want it to mean?” You know this is a mess of your own making. You know you’re just daring him to confess. But you can’t stop now.

“Well. Just tell me what you mean when you say it.”

You go back to shaking your head and he groans.

“Why won’t you just tell me? I want, I need to know your answer. It’s driving me crazy.”

“What’s the issue? You have Sophie. You don’t need me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Sophie has nothing to do with this. Right now, this is just about you and me.”

All your nerve leaves you when you think you might finally have to confess. “Howl. I’m going to bed.” You get up to leave.

He grabs your wrist. “No. You can’t. I’m not done.”

You yank your wrist away. “I’m done. Goodnight, Howl.”

You lock the door to your room thinking the conversation has ended, thinking you can finally let the depression swallow you whole. But he bangs on the door over and over, so much so that you start to feel guilty for Sophie who’s sleeping soundly a couple rooms away. You yank the door open and tug him inside, closing the door behind him. He had wanted to come in, but now that he’s standing alone in your room with you, he’s suddenly silent, the weight of this intimate moment sinking in.

You sigh and drag him over to the bed, pulling him down beside you, and snuggling up against him.

He freezes up.

“Stop acting like a stranger, we used to sleep together all the time.”

He coughs. “Yeah, when we were kids. It’s been awhile since we’ve done this.” He says that, but he slowly puts his arms around you anyway, resuming his usual position on your bed.

“Yeah well, that’s cuz you went and got yourself a girlfriend.” And maybe it’s because it was the middle of the night and you’re sleep deprived -if he asks, that’s what you’ll blame it on- but you suddenly blurt out, “And I’m offended, by the way.”

He huffs, amused. “You’re so dramatic, you know that?”

“Well you know what, maybe I should go get a boyfriend then.”

He tenses up again. “Wh-why’s that?”

You shrug. “You have a girlfriend, why can’t I have a boyfriend?”

“B-because! You don’t know what men are like. They might take advantage of you.”

“So who should I date then?”

He swallows. “No one.”

You don’t actually intend to get a boyfriend, you’re too far gone for Howl, but suddenly his words stir some fire in you that you didn’t know existed. He has the audacity to not love you and then claim you can’t love anyone else? The balls on him.

He can feel the air shift because he suddenly tries to make light of the situation. “Besides, I don’t like sharing my best friend with anyone anyway.”

You glare at him. “Well that’s bullshit because I have to share you with Sophie. It used to be just the two of us, don’t you remember?”

He sighs, guilt creasing his face. “I know, I know. But you’re still important to me. She’s just… she’s my everything.”

You wince and pull yourself out of his arms, turning to face the opposite direction.

He groans. “Come on, don’t be like this. Talk to me. I don’t like when you’re upset.”

“I’m not upset, I’m just tired, I want to go to bed. Go to your girlfriend, Howl.”

“Please. Please just talk to me.” He begs, desperation staining his voice.

Suddenly you snap. “She’s your everything, but that used to be me.” You hadn’t intended the words to sound bitter, but they leave a sour taste in your mouth on the way out.

He winces. “I… yeah, I know. I know things are different now, but the way I feel about you hasn’t changed.”

“That’s the problem.” You whisper to yourself so quietly he’s left straining to hear. When he doesn’t answer, you realize he didn’t hear you after all, and you don’t have the energy to say it again. You wrap yourself up tightly in the blankets. “Your girlfriend is going to worry if you keep her waiting much longer. Go to her.”

He sighs. He wants to keep talking with you but he knows you’re right. He doesn’t want to worry Sophie. He promises he’ll talk with you in the morning and takes his leave.

In the morning, he finds that all of your things are missing and you’re nowhere to be found. He panics and races outside in his pajamas, hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He sees your head bobbing down the street, bags in your hands. He almost collapses a lung trying to chase after you.

“What are you doing??” He yells as he runs.

You flinch at his voice, recognizing it instantly, but you keep walking.

He catches up to you and wrenches your arm backwards. You drop a bag and he quickly picks it up but holds onto it.

“Why do you have all your things? Where are you going? Why are you going? You can’t just leave me like this!” His words are rushed, like they’re flooding out, like he doesn’t even know what he wants to say, just that he wants to say something, just that he needs to make you acknowledge him, to make you stay.

You reach for your bag and he yanks it back. “Howl-”

“You- you can’t leave me, damnit!” He snaps and you realize it’s been a long time since he was this mad at you. You almost smile at the thought that your departure causes him so much displeasure. It’s sweet.

“Howl, I need to go.”

“No, no, you don’t. You need to stay with me. What ever happened to best friends? What ever happened to I love you?”

“Howl.”

He doesn’t listen. He keeps rambling.

“Howl. Howl!”

His eyes snap up to yours.

“I love you, Howl.”

He shuts the fuck up.

“I’m in love with you.” You say again, letting the words sink in. He’s still reeling from the shock of it all.

You continue, “I love you, so I can’t stay. I can’t be close to you like this. I can’t keep third wheeling, I can’t keep lying awake at night, dreaming about you, listening to you sleep next door. I can’t. It’s time, I need to go.” You muster up your best smile for him. It’s much easier to grab the bag from his hands now that he’s frozen in place.

You hear him weakly mumbling things like “But I still need you” and “But you can’t leave me” and you wince, but you turn to leave anyway. He weakly grabs onto your arm again, but he’s so shaken, it’s easy to slip out of his grip.

You sigh as you take in the sad sight of him in this miserable state. “You don’t need me. You’ll be fine. You have Sophie. Everything will be fine. I wish you both happiness.” You don’t, but you say it anyway, you reassure him, because that’s what you do when you love him.

When he continues fumbling for you, his words a jumbled mess, you realize he’ll just keep coming after you, even in this weakened state, so you speak up again, “Old friend. Will you do me a favor?”

Life slowly flickers back into his eyes, as he thinks of how he can be of use to you. “Yes, anything. Anything for you.”

“Close your eyes.”

He bites his lip but hesitantly closes his eyes anyway.

You want to leave now. You want to bolt while he’s not looking. But your greed gets the better of you. You hesitate before finally making the decision to kiss him on the cheek, and you know you’ll keep that moment with you forever. You’ll hold on to the feeling of his cheek on your lips until the day you die, because you know you’ll love him until the day you die.

Then you walk away, picking up the pace as you continue down the street, hoping he doesn’t open his eyes, hoping you saved him the pain of having to watch you leave.

Many years later, you’re running errands, walking down the street at a leisurely pace, just enjoying the sun on your skin. You look up at the sky, taking in the fresh air and basking in the sunlight.

Not watching where you’re going, you crash into someone. You immediately think to apologize, but your words get swallowed down when you catch a glimpse of jet black hair.

“H-Howl?”

He blinks. And then he blinks again, this time trying to hold back tears. “Is…is it really… really you?”

A smile spreads across your face. “Hi.”

He reaches out to touch you and then he stops. You intertwine your fingers with his before he can pull his hand away. His fingers lock into place as he draws closer to you, sinking into your touch.

“You’re here.” He whispers.

You ruffle his hair. “You went back to your natural color. I like it.”

He blushes and he absentmindedly reaches up to touch the place where your hand just grazed his hair. “You… you always said you liked it better.”

You smile again. Then you let his hand go, much to his disappointment, and start looking around, looking for her. Your brows furrow in confusion when you don’t see anyone nearby. “Where’s Sofie?”

He swallows, looking down. “She, uh, she’s not… not here.”

You raise an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

“She… we…um. We broke up. Awhile ago. Wasn’t meant to be, I guess.”

You choke on your spit. “You what? Oh you poor thing, let me get you a drink.” You start dragging him away before he can properly process what’s going on.

He thinks you’re taking him to a bar, and he’s surprised when you lead him into your house, ushering him onto one of your bar stools. He looks around while you mix up a drink for him. He realizes this place looks oddly familiar, even though he’s never been here before.

You realize he’s trying to piece together where he’s seen this place. You crack a smile. “I modeled it after that house we stayed at, in the countryside. Seems you remember it well. You like it?”

He nods, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Before he can make any proper commentary on the house, a child runs up to you and throws his arms around your leg.

You laugh and ruffle his hair. “Hey, sweetie. What’re you doing down there?”

Howl swallows, watching this interaction with bated breath. He wonders if that’s your kid. It has to be, it’s your house.

You hand Howl the freshly mixed drink and he takes a sip.

He’s about to comment on how good it is when he hears the kid say, “Mom! Up!” and he chokes on his drink.

You pick the kid up, resting him on your hip before giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Silly. What would your mother say if she heard you calling me mom? It’s auntie, remember? Now go run along and help your mom out with the laundry, okay baby?” You set the kid down and he nods before running to the backroom.

When the kid is gone, you burst into laughter. “You should’ve seen your face. I thought I was gonna die, you looked like you just had a stroke. You thought he was my kid, huh?” You turn to Howl and poke him on the nose.

He rolls his eyes and swats your hand away, seemingly unfrozen now. “Well, can you blame me?”

“He doesn’t look a thing like me,” You tease, nudging him with your elbow.

“Well he could’ve taken after your husband!” He exclaimed defensively.

“Well I don’t have a husband.”

Howl blinks. “No husband.” He repeats.

“And… no boyfriend either.” You say slowly, watching him process this information.

“And no boyfriend either.” He repeats, each word softer than the next.

Suddenly you’re interrupted by your sister waving at you as she takes her kid and her freshly done laundry out the door with her. You wave back and when you catch Howl’s shocked expression, you explain to him that you reconnected with some of your family. He’s happy for you. He always is. Your wins were always his wins. You always loved that about him.You wonder if you can dare to love him some more. If you can dare to dream.

“So… do you have anywhere to stay tonight?” You ask nonchalantly.

He bites his lip. “N-no. Just kind of been… wandering aimlessly.”

You perk up. “Well perfect, I have spare rooms.”

He blushes. “You’d let me stay here? Even after all this time?

You hop into a seat next to him. “Well yeah, aren’t we best friends? That doesn’t just go away, you know.” You nudge his shoulder. Then you dare to rest your head on it.

He freezes but then he relaxes. “This drink is pretty good, by the way.”

“Better be. I put your favorite flavors in it.”

He sits up straighter. “You remember?”

“I remember everything.”

He goes silent, lost in his thoughts.

You want to cheer him up. “Bet I can drink you under the table.”

He snorts. “Like hell you can.”

You spend the next few hours chugging drinks, laughing, catching each other up on everything non-Sofie related. She’s not important right now. Part of you hopes she’ll never come up again. Actually, most of you hopes that.

Eventually it’s time to retire, and you say you’ll draw him up a bath with his favorite scents. He smiles at you, “I’ll toast to that!” and he lifts his cup to you as you disappear into the bathroom.

You reappear to tell him it’s ready and he flushes bright red when you tell him you’ll just be right next door, taking your bath, if he needs you. He begins to soak in the tub, his mind swimming with thoughts of you. He can’t stand you being so close and yet so far away. And taking a bath. Naked, no less. Just behind that wall. He gulps and sinks deeper into the tub, trying to drown out his thoughts.

Then you call out to him and he snaps out of it. “Howl. I forgot my towel in there. Could you bring it to me?”

His eyes widen and his heart thumps in his chest. Is this what cardiac arrest feels like? He pulls himself out of the bath and shakily grabs your towel before making the trip next door.

You think he’ll just leave it outside so you get up to grab it but then he opens the door right as you step out of the bath, the water dripping down your fully naked body.

His eyes rake all over your body and he almost drops the towel in shock. But he can’t stop looking. His blood is burning in his veins, but he can’t stop looking. His lungs feel like they’re ablaze, but he can’t stop looking. You look so perfect, so heavenly.

You break the silence. “I-I thought y-you’d leave the towel outside the door.” Your cheeks flood with red.

He lets out a strangled chuckle, as his eyes continue to roam. “I… yeah, I was just… I’ll just…”

You bite your lip and it shoots his heart straight into the stratosphere.

He takes a hesitant step towards you.

You swallow.

He takes another step, taking in every inch of you.

You can’t help but do the same, admiring his bare body.

He takes another step, finally finding himself directly in front of you. “I just…” He continues and then trails off.

“Yes?” You lean in closer to him, but that’s all you do.

You’re so close to him, your breaths begin to mingle with each other.

“J-just…” He finds himself staring at your lips. Of all the parts of you to be staring at, that’s what he’s settled on. He swallows. “Just… can I…?”

“Yes.”

It only takes a second for him to swallow up all the tension between you, closing the distance, and claiming your lips in a desperate kiss. His hands wander the smooth expanse of your body, memorizing every curve. His kisses are possessive, like he needs to make his mark on you before he wakes up and finds this all a dream. His tongue moves urgently through your mouth, like he might find heaven in the back of your throat.

“Howl…” You whine.

He groans at the sound, gripping your hips tighter and pulling you flush up against him.

“Fuck. Howl, don’t stop.”

Lust flares in his eyes at your words. “I wouldn’t dream of it, I can’t get enough of you,” He pants, eager to claim your lips again.

After a couple more dizzying kisses, you murmur in a daze, “You taste better than I imagined.”

He sucks in a sharp breath. “Fuck. You imagined me?”

You trace the length of his bare back, your slender fingers eliciting shivers from him. “All the time. All the damn time.”

He pushes you against the wall and you gasp at the cold tile on your back. “Howl, that’s cold!”

He smirks. “I promise I’ll warm you up.” He traces hot kisses down your neck, down your breasts, stopping to suck on a peaked nipple, before trailing his kisses further down your abdomen. He kneels in front of you, eyeing your dripping cunt. He’s waiting for permission.

“Are you gonna gawk all day or are you going to taste me?”

He chuckles at your bold words. “I’ve never heard you talk like this before. I like it.” And without another word, he brings his head in between your legs, hungrily lapping at your wet heat. Every whimper and every whine he coaxes from your lips makes him eager to taste more of you. The rough strokes of his tongue dragging itself up and down your slit overwhelms you and you think you might just come on his face. Then he jams his tongue inside you, moaning as your depths envelop him, your slick drizzling down his throat as he swallows. And you do come on his face, fist in his hair, as you moan his name.

He groans as your orgasm floods into his mouth.

You’ve not even finished all the way, the evidence of your desire still trickling down your legs, when suddenly he pulls away from you; before you can complain about his absence, he shoves his bulging erection deep inside your swollen cunt, gasping as your slick coats his cock.

“Howl!” You dig your nails into his back as you adjust to the new sensation.

He sighs, the sound filled with ecstasy. “If you keep saying my name like that, I won’t be able to last much longer.”

“I don’t have a problem with that,” You gasp out.

He shakes his head, grunting as he thrusts into you. “I do. I want to enjoy every second of this.”

His fingers carve canyons into your hips as he steadies himself against your skin.

“Howl…” You groan again, letting your head fall back against the wall. “I want you. I need you.”

His eyes darken as he soaks in the sound of your whines. “I’m right here, darling.” He picks up the pace, though still restraining himself.

“And you feel so good inside me,” You bite your lip, “I bet you’d feel even better pumping your seed into me.”

He swears under his breath, but he can’t muster up the strength for anymore words, all his strength has been poured into resisting you, into resisting the urge to let go. But his strength dwindles quickly at the sight of you flushed beneath him, at the sounds of your moans echoing against the tiled walls. He slams his cock deeper and then finds his release with his tongue in your mouth, swallowing down your pleasure as he fills you up.

You both don’t move for a moment. You just stand there, shuddering, panting, holding each other for support.

Then you start to laugh and he laughs with you.

“You may as well take a bath with me since you’ve already seen me naked,” You tease, jerking a thumb towards the tub.

He grins widely. “Well, if you insist.”

“Oh, I do.” You say devilishly, leading him towards the bath.

You both slide into the tub, sighs escaping your lips, as the warm water envelops both your bodies. You snuggle up against him, soaking in the beauty of the moment.

“You know,” He says thoughtfully, “I think I’ve been waiting my whole life for you.”

You lift your chin up to meet his gaze, raising an eyebrow at him. “Don’t you mean Sophie?”

He shakes his head. “I thought that’s what I wanted, but you were right there, right in front of me the whole time. I’ve only ever needed you. I…” He hesitates, but the feeling of you snug against him gives him courage, “I love you.” Then he grins. “And not just like a best friend.”

You laugh and kiss his chest. “Well how about that? I love you too.”

He beams. “Even after all this time?”

You kiss his cheek. You kiss his forehead. You kiss his lips. He sighs, savoring the feeling of your lips on his skin.

You nuzzle up against his ear and murmur, “Especially after all this time.”

[phightingheadcanons]

I’ve been thinking a lot abt Rocket’s future redesign so I gotta put those thoughts somewhere.

I’m kind of excited to see where they take his design and specially his outfit but me personally I think he’s either of these with no in between.

Minimal effort fit like it’s just a tank top and some shorts/pants. Like he just goes to the matches in the same clothes he uses to lounge at home which honestly slay king what an icon.

OR

He actually goes extra with it because he wants to look cool. I’m thinking some techwear/tactical style thing. Probably trying to mimic Zuka’s look when he was younger coz y’know. He looks up to him. It’s very much inspired but Rocket gives it his own twist to make it unique.

Anyways that’s all I’m super hyper for when he finally gets his redesign bc ouh bro looks so out of place with other phighters like Scythe 😭😭 he really needs a glowup please.

I’d it love if Rocket’s redesign was military-inspired (or at least akin to Young/current Zuka I live laugh love design motives that connect to between characters to show their influence.)

(Uh drew this kinda based off of your descriptions. Sorry if the design’s all over the place I was barfing up ideas and throwing colors at random) (added some yellow because of young Zuka’s bandana thing and color theory go weeeeee)

[redclercs]

DELICATE✰ CHARLES LECLERC.

iii. one for the money, two for the show.

— the one where you were never ready, so you watched him go.

warnings: war flashbacks to the miami gp, more insight into y/n (look i have to give a lot of context for my own sanity), not really proofread sorry, 2.4k words.

masterlist ✢ next

FROM “WHAT’S NEXT FOR AIDAN KIM?” POSTED IN THE US WEEKLY YOUTUBE CHANNEL MAY 2023

You are looking at the top comments.

aidanbabes nooo my baby😭 he looks so sad!

flowerbedkim I swear to god y/n better count her fucking days

halleyc don’t come at me but this sounds like he proposed

ynbby why is he talking about this though? y/n has been super private and he’s telling US WEEKLY THIS?

ynaidan i hate being a child of divorce😭

Miami, Florida May 6th

GRAND Prix number two with Elix, attempt number two by Mr. Stuart Schafer to get into your pants. Can it get any worse?

Yes, yes it can. Because as long as you have “a job” you don’t have to come to these sponsor events. Which sucks for you, not having an acting job for the moment has never felt more like a punishment from the universe.

Artists, from actors to singers are here promoting their gigs while all you do, again, is take pictures with men in jeans and loafers and try not to barf every time you consume Elix.

You’re watching your career crumble in front of your eyes and you can’t do anything to save it from burning when it hits the floor. Mildred has called you several times during the course of the weekend to inform you of canceled interviews, revoked invitations and “sorry we’re just looking for something else” calls from casting agents.

Part of you is in disbelief that a five minute interview from your ex-boyfriend is feeding the fire, part of you expected it all the same. Women are the preferred villain in the narrative, and if it means putting a man above them, the media has had the choice made for a while.

Did you really have it coming, though? There have been endless comments about how it was about time people realized the type of person you are.

But what are you? Who are you really?

You’re a coward. You tell that to yourself in the mirror first thing in the morning.

Many people have the luxury to say they can’t pinpoint the exact moment where they went wrong. You can’t afford the pleasure of such obliviousness, because the exact moment everything went wrong was when Aidan got down on one knee.

And when the question that left his lips went from "Will you marry me?" to "Why won't you?" You knew there was no turning back.

Marriage wasn’t a foreign concept to you, but while it is generally seen as a milestone, for you it was just another stepping stone. The roles of The Wife and The Mother were something you might eventually grow into, but on the night of your third anniversary, you realized you weren't even ready for that of The Fiancée.

Was it genuinely a surprise for Aidan that you had to close the velvet box he was holding in front of you, hiding the diamond ring from your sight, before he dropped his other knee to the ground and whispered 'Why?'

Never, in the three years you'd been together, had you seriously talked about marriage. It was another bridge you would cross once you got there, and in your mistaken calculations, you thought it would be around the time your relationship turned five. That's the limit for romantic relationships without a ring involved according to most women's magazines, and your own mom. At least neither know the ring was the cause of the breakup.

It's a little pathetic how lucky you consider yourself that the tabloids don't know you rejected an engagement. They're cruel enough as it is, things can only go further downhill, straight to hell.

"You good?"

Your best friend in the world, Victoria Presley, is able to join you in the VIP area of the Paddock thanks to a couple pictures on instagram where she tagged Elix. God bless the era of influencers. Or, family connections. Being the daughter of Sony Music executive Luke Presley and celebrity life coach Claire Walker can open many doors. Well it isn't Vic's fault being born into a rich and influential family, at least she's doing her own thing with her beauty products.

"Yes, I am," you shrug. Q3 is going on right now and although you try your best to keep your focus on the two red cars around the circuit, you find it hard to get out of your head. Plus it's so hot in here you feel sticky and gross.

"I lost you for a moment there," she insists, sipping her glass of champagne, the eyebrow raise she gives you after means she needs more info into what was going through your head just seconds ago.

"Not getting any call backs right now," you sigh, taking the flute from her although all it would take for you to get your own is a few steps. "I'm kind of frustrated."

"I'm sorry babe," Vic rubs your back, unbothered by your stealing. "You'll get something soon."

"And E! cancelled my interview, AND—"

Tires screech and an 'ooooh' goes through the grand stands before the screens show a red car embedded in the barriers. A groan of "It's Leclerc!" passes through the people around you in the VIP Lounge.

You grimace, focused on the circuit again as Charles leaves his car, shaking his arms before hitting the halo several times, frustrated.

"See everyone has bad streaks," Vic has gotten her own champagne again and is pointing to the screen, where the Ferrari driver is being followed on his way out. "It's his second crash, no?"

Other people's disgrace doesn't soothe your own, so you give Vic a stern look, causing her to shrug.

Q3 is done and Ferrari has mixed feelings about their two drivers' results. As for you, the faster you can get back to your hotel, the better.

─────────

Vic drags you to dinner with a couple of her influencer friends. Everyone and their mother is in attendance at Miami, and they’re here to have fun.

"They're here!" the girl to Vic's left whisper-yells, stretching her neck to look over at the entrance of the restaurant.

The place has been completely full the whole time you've been here, which has been a while, you're done with your dinner and have a few drinks on you, yet Vic has begged you twice to stay 'just a little longer'.

Of course Vic is having the time of her life, talking about promotion agreements and posting schedules, and although you hang out with lots of influencers and social media stars on your daily life, you're not clicking with any of them tonight. Have you become bitter? No, of course not.

"y/n knows them, she can just introduce us," another one giggles, and she cheers with her tequila sunrise to your own half-empty drink that's resting on the table.

"Hmm, what?" you chuckle, unsure of how you missed the part where you entered the story.

"The Ferrari Drivers," the first girl answers in that 'obviously' tone you hate when people use with you. "You're with Ferrari all the time lately, aren't you?"

"I'm with Elix," you clear up, best as you can as they're not really paying attention, their eyes following the group of men that are being escorted by a hostess to their table. "So you know, it's not really—"

"But you've met them,"

"Well, yes but..."

Yes but, you've seen them in scattered moments where they nod and smile at you passing by and the three times you've had to take pictures drinking Elix. You don't even get to the coworker level of knowing them.

"Well let's go!"

"Hold on Holly," Vic speaks up for the first time, "I mean, they literally just got here."

"Which is why we came here," Holly can't seem to get rid of that know-it-all tone, and it's frankly starting to annoy you even if she has a different target now.

It's time to use the angry eyes with Vic, again,in less than 24 hours. That's why she kept asking you to wait just a little longer.

"How did you know they'd be here?" you question, although you already know what a cleveage can do to get any information you want. Can't blame a girl for using her tools.

“I have my ways,” Holly says, and does in fact, fix her cleavage. Fair enough.

"Vic..." you whisper, as the rest of them regather in their own conversation. "What's happening?"

"I just– they said they really wanted to meet the Ferrari guys, y/n," Vic half whines. She's doing the most to impress the other girls, which is a very Vic thing to do, but still you don't like it. "And since you work with them, well it would be easier to approach them, right?"

Wrong.

"I- Vic, I don't work with these guys. We don't even work for the same people, and... it would be weird to approach them while they're trying to have dinner peacefully."

You are not a big fan of interruptions because you've heard enough of your coworkers talk about how annoying it is. As for yourself, sometimes you mind, sometimes you don't. It all depends.

You can barely distinguish their table with all the movement around the restaurant, but you manage a peek at Carlos' hair. Both of them are there, surrounded by a bunch of other Ferrari guys.

"So? Let's go," Holly is speaking again, downing the rest of her alcoholic Shirley Temple.

"I have to use the bathroom," you announce, dropping the napkin that covered your lap on the table.

"Right now?" the other girl—you feel guilty for not remembering her name— groans.

You refrain from replying, and try not to stomp to the bathroom like a toddler throwing a tantrum. If there’s anything that you hate is feeling used, and it hurts a lot more when it comes from Victoria.

It’s something else when she uses her doe-eyed stare and says “please, please, please” to get her way even with you, rather than set you up to impress her other friends.

You take your time to reapply lipstick in the bathroom and soothe your annoyance. You have told Vic before that she needs to ask for things, not just push you into awkward situations. At least she didn’t follow you to the restroom.

Taking a deep breath, you step out of the bathroom, wondering how to go on about this. It’s very likely that things get twisted and it is you who’ll look like she wants to brag about knowing the Ferrari guys, which you’re sure they’re used to—being bragged about. But you don’t want that.

There are many clichés that you have experienced, both as a character in RomComs where the biggest makeover that is done to your character is to apply a little mascara and remove the glasses (you hate that, what’s wrong with wearing glasses?). And in real life, with big romantic gestures like receiving a bouquet with a hundred roses and one is artificial… Blah blah.

This cliché is a little more ridiculous, though, as you crash into Charles Leclerc while leaving the restroom.

“Oh, sorry,” you half-smile back at him, he’s already smiling, showing dimples and everything. You see his appeal no matter how much you don’t want to notice it. Tall, green-blue eyes and those stupid dimples. Not to mention the fact that you suddenly find accents charming. Again, stupid.

“Hey y/n,” he says still smiling, “Did you just get here?”

“Uh, no actually we’re leaving in a few minutes,” you move out of the way of a lady that wants to get into the restroom, she eyes you both for a moment before continuing on her way.

“Are you here with your friends? Or is it with Elix?”

“My friends. Thank God I get to be away from Elix for a few hours.”

Charles chuckles and the moment runs long enough to become awkward. You’re still outside of the bathrooms and another guy has too given you an off look as he made his way inside.

"Let me walk you back to your table," Charles offers as a way of breaking the silence and you shake your head no.

"You don't have to, my friends are probably on the way out already, anyway."

Are you being selfish by keeping Vic's friends away from him? It doesn't matter to you, not really. But really a small part of you doesn't want things to go their way.

Charles doesn't listen to your refusal anyway, and asks you to lead the way with a gesture.

"I didn't see you at the Ferrari Suite after Quali," he mentions as he follows you a step behind.

"I was in the VIP Lounge with a friend," you explain, "I'll be at the Suite tomorrow, though."

You stop at your table, where the three girls are still doing their best to ogle at the Ferrari guys.

"Hey," you get their attention back and not one in the three of them even attempt to hide the pleasant surprise that Charles' presence gives them. "Are you ready to go?"

It's Vic's turn to give you a look. One that tells you to not be unfair, things have just started to go as they planned.

While you return the pointed look to Vic, Holly strikes a conversation with Charles. Lightning quick.

"Let's go," you repeat, "Gotta be up early tomorrow."

"Can we get a picture, though?" the other girl—lord, if you could remember her name you'd feel a little better —adds quickly.

"Do you mind?" you ask Charles before he can reply. You don't want to make a fuss and have half the restaurant acknowledging his presence and his disposition to take pictures and sign autographs while he's trying to have dinner.

"Not at all," he shakes his head and waits patiently for everyone to be camera-ready while you stare. "Aren't you getting in the picture?"

"I'll take it," you hold your hand out for an iPhone, and get Holly's bedazzled one. Charles frowns but you just say 'okay, ready?' before pointing the camera at them.

No one else argues the fact that you're not in the picture.

A chorus of 'thank you's' passes quickly as you return the iPhone and the three influencers start checking the picture. They're probably better photographers than you, you can accept that.

"So I'll see you tomorrow, y/n," Charles leans towards you, leaving the group to their own thing after he pleased their request. "Right?"

"I'll be the one drinking Elix," you joke, half-whining.

"I'll be the one in the red car," Charles jokes back, a wide smile spreading on his face.

You laugh, fighting against the sudden shyness caused by the familiarity.

"Goodnight," he calls quietly, and the girls wish him a goodnight and good luck for the race before he snakes through tables back to his friends.

Not another thank you is directed at you as your group leaves the restaurant to wait for the Uber back to the hotel.

─── team principal radio: ❝hello! thank you for reading! I'm really grateful for everyone who has interacted with this story, I hope you're enjoying it so far ♡❞

[jesncin]

I’d really like to hear your thoughts on MAWS characters alongside Lois, if you want to do that of that’s entirely up to you but it would be really interesting ^_^

I've written about maws a fair bit on this blog! You can find my general thoughts on the jesncin talks maws tag and my massive maws Lois essay here for my thoughts on her. Suffice to say I'm not a fan of this show, lol. I haven't been able to stomach watching season 2 so my entire knowledge is limited to season 1. With that said, roundup of my thoughts on maws characters:

Clark Kent: boring. Vanilla. Critical lack of hero motivation and idealism outside of "people are getting hurt!" as a platitude. Just some guy who does chores because that's the nice thing to do. Not defeating the Superman Is Boring allegations- just has an uwu cute cinnamon roll himbo filter on it.

Lois Lane: xenophobic asian lois lane is the worst crime ever committed to me. A historically jaded, award winning, accomplished career woman fighting against work place misogyny is now a cutesty uwu girl-failure who needs the help of two men to get hired. Barf.

Jimmy Olsen: I get the attempt at making him a conspiracy theorist as a means of tapping into Jimmy's wacky silver age antics and to bounce off of Clark for shenanigans, but it doesn't meaningfully interrogate how that is at odds with his job as a journalist. Also he was sidelined hard in S1- more than he was in CW Supergirl.

Perry White: I was hoping that unlike STAS and if MAWS was going to pull from anime, that this meant strong relationships with Superman's cast system. But nope. Perry is just a running gag. I was hoping for a Snapper and Kara dynamic like in CW Supergirl.

Scoop troop (Cat Grant, Ronnie Troupe, Steve Lombard): Superfluous characters, easily delete-able. All of which have been reinterpreted as anime stereotypes. Yawn.

Newskid Legion: Also delete-able and a waste of my time. They should be called newsies. They make no sense as outdated characters placed in a futuristic setting. What is child labor doing this late in the game. Be more creative with modernizing outdated characters.

Pa and Ma Kent: Boring. The biggest problem you can have with the Kents is making them generic supportive parents like they're sentient Hallmark cards. Pa Kent got the bad end of the stick as the clueless parent, while Ma Kent was pushed as the heart of the family to Clark. Not that she did much.

Vicki Vale: Absolutely insane of this show to add another Asian xenophobe woman journalist. The MAWS crew love gloating about how they're not going to include Batman in MAWS, but they can't resist putting a Gothamite in their show and stealing rogues from other heroes. Could've brought Angela Chen (a canonically asian Metropolis reporter) from STAS but I guess she's not as big a name as a Gotham character, eh?

Livewire: the glowdown of a century. DCSHG continues to outperform every modern version of this character. Why make her a generic smuggler when her original job as a shock jokey is far more interesting?? Podcaster or influencer was right there. Her motives make no sense too.

Intergang crew: Why. Did they consolidate. Banshee with two random rogues (Mist & Roughouse) and call them Intergang. That's so many glowdowns at once. I've never seen someone look at a hero's diverse rogues gallery and say "let's consolidate all these characters so we have less material to work with in the future". I hate how the rogues are all tech based, and share the same origin. These baddies kickstarted the show's "villains with petty crime motivations": no ideological or thematic draw to them.

Ivo/Parasite: Another villain with nonsensical motivations. His business is going bankrupt so he sets up an investor event party to show off his Black Panther Lexo suit (which was apparently a response to Superman! A stranger that we can't trust! And somehow these expensive suits are more trustworthy) only to attack his investors and get owned by Superman. Then he just has a hateful vendetta against Superman. People who think this is a good Parasite interpretation because they projected vague Elon Musk are kidding themselves. I could clown on MAWS' Ivo all day. He is so badly written.

Heatwave: Why genderbend a Flash villain when Superman already has a Fire Woman in his rogues gallery? Volcana? Remember her? She's from the same show yall got Livewire from? Praise this show all you want for "reigniting interest in Superman", it's clear they're willing to toss away actual Superman cast characters for more popular characters from other heroes when it suits them. What's Heatwave's motivations? Petty crime.

Slade Wilson/Deathstroke: Imagine building this character up to be a big threat only to do nothing with him lol. I can't take him seriously, his voice acting is the worst and I hate his design. This show is so desperate to make attractive villains for fangirls it's frankly pathetic. How did people even mistaken him for Superman? He doesn't FLY.

Mallah and The Brain: This is what happens when you revive gay villains and put them through the HarlIvy Respectability Beam on fast forward. The gay villains aren't villains anymore! Because that would be bad representation! They're now cute cuddly domestic dads who want to raise robot children and run away together!! How TRITE. Mallah has "american faking a french accent" syndrome but bad voice acting is the norm in this show.

Mxy: The one time they include a villain that Lois and Jimmy could easily help Superman defeat (Mxy's whole deal is that you can send him to his dimension by tricking him to spell or say his name backwards) they opt to make it even dumber by just "removing his hat". Because the MAWS crew aren't smart enough to think of ways Superman and his pals can trick Mxy. For the record, CW Supergirl got this right in comparison.

Legion of Loises: It's the way this show can't write competent women even when that's the goal. All the characters act so stupid and that includes the Legion of Loises. At least MAWS!Lois learns the important lesson that even though she's not as accomplished as these career focused versions of her, at least she can keep her man. Misogyny in a cute package.

Alex/Lex Luthor: Go away. Ugly design I can't stand him. Miserable voice acting as usual.

Amanda Waller: She's pretty generic here. Playing second fiddle to Sam Lane for the most part, but this show has a problem with fleshing out Black characters in general so.

Sam Lane: We now have up to THREE asian xenophobes in MAWS season 1. The crew did not think their diversity through because at the end of the day S1 was really about a White Guy Alien getting oppressed by mostly people of color. Without a hint of irony.

Jor-El: I thought the language barrier between him and Clark was an inspired choice and clever as a means of postponing Clark learning about his heritage. But nope. Jor-El just starts magically talking in English later on. Otherwise boring and generic!

Brainy: I know he's prominent in S2 so I can't speak much for his character from the small impression I got of him in S1, but I can say that he looks mad ugly <3 truly horrible rogues designs in this show.

PHEW!! That's my roundup of MAWS character opinions! Wild how I can't even pinpoint a character I like on this show, lol. I know Kara's in S2 as well, and what I've seen of her sounds awful. Her design is bad too. I'm just not ready for the heartbreak of meeting that version of her because I love Supergirl so much :((

[navsink]

to be gentle is a choice. | sukuna x sorcerer reader !

tw: typical sukuna things, arguments, violence, syringes, hospital setting, referenced/mentions of cannibalism (sukuna), tba.

If there was a god, I bet it would be smugly smirking down on me as if it was any better than I am.

To preface, today I went away into domain expansion with Uraume. bad fucking idea.

Uraume couldn't stop nagging about how I'm rotting from the inside with all this mushy love stuff. I almost feel like one of your kind, my Emperess, is this what you have to go through everyday? I hate the feeling yet enjoy it to an extent, it doesn't change my mind to what humans are. They're maggots who cling to every bit of nourshment and flesh trying to preserve their kind. As if I couldn't just snap my fingers and have them all pile up.

If that didn't make me barf, there's even more to discuss on, but I digress. I don't know what Uraume was trying to do, but of course I wasn't going to let that menial woman slide with that snarky mouth of hers. With a quick snap, I crossed my legs from the comfort of my bone adorned throne and twisted my fingers.

'Snap'

In a quick fraction of a second, she twitched and writhed under the influence of my cursed energy. The once sarcastic mouth turning paler by the second, and then another, and another... I missed just using my powers for fruitful things like this one. She whined and whined, the black robe and sandals dangled in the air, flailing around in a desperate attempt to fall down. The chuckle and contemptible mocks I hurled at her only proved to satisfy me more than this measly body I'm currently residing in. I let go of my fingers and leaned against the arm rest of my throne, thinking back on that day.

--flashback--

Kenjaku and Uraume were bickering on what 'D-day' was supposed to go all the while I devoured upon some delicious russian on a skewer. The domain expansion Uraume held for us presented the Shirahama coast to ourselves. She had pressed for a meeting, apparently to discuss on finally incarnating my body somewhere reliable.

"I've found a vessel for you, Master." Uraume announced, putting her hands together under her long sleeves.

"You have?" I've been uninterested in vessels lately, it's been nothing but substandard bodies that cannot stand a few punches and broken soul pacts.

"This one seems like it will last you for more than a year if you're tame with its body." I scoffed to her flat tone, though her serious countenance let on a hint of hope and excitement.

"It's not worth it then, what use can a body be to me if I can't use it how I want to?"

"I understand Master, but, I would like to remind you that we are trying to ambush the sorcerers. So discretion and prudence are a must for this."

"You think I don't know that? Continue. About this body."

"I've targeted a young male, around 25 years old, he's a recently graduated researcher at the Tokyo Jujutsu Tech and has great credibility with other curse users. We can gather a lot of intel--"

"Skip the trivial details Uraume, get to the point." I leaned back on the beach chair and waved off to her, disregarding any useless information.

"He has borrowed four of your fingers from the Tech's library, promising to study the seals and whatnot. He seems to be a compatible fit for our purposes. Coming from a line of monks and priestesses, he may endure around ten fingers at most."

"Ten huh?... Will he be able to take on more as time progresses?" My brow cocked to the side, and as I rubbed my chin, I turned to her.

"I think that will be for you to decide, Master. His lineage is pure and every information on him is promising, one might be even able to deduce that he has a slight tinge of cursed blood."

I can still recall the shit eating grin that was plastered onto my face, I had finally reached the jackpot out of many maggot looking duds. Of course, with inferior species nearby, it could only last but a second of my apparition in the domain.

"Elated news, partner! Congrats, now we're one of the same." Kenjaku exulted.

I dimmed out his words from my conscience and tuned out to my own, a simple wave of acknowledgment to shut him up being sent.

"Bring it on."

"Is it settled then? Has he ingested any fingers?"

"I'm afraid not, but if at your command, I'll make sure he ingests one tonight."

--present

Those were the words I uttered to Uraume the day I got into this body, the one that got me into your arms at the buzz of a simple 'Hello!'.

Y/n, you have a way with words don't you?

On the topic of Uraume, I'm one to lie, but when I say that servant makes a mean meal, it's because she does. My once peaceful lunch just had to be interrupted by those two's bitching when a shard of icecicle had to shoot right next to the stack of bones I was leaving behind. God, the glare I shot them, true definition of if looks could kill. My brows furrowed as my fingers twisted and slammed down to the ground. The two froze in place, a drop of cold sweat dripping down their heads. I glared at them and without more trouble, my fingers relaxed, falling to my side.

"Permission to speak lord." Uraume muttered

"Granted"

"I wanted to survey how the body is adjusting to your grand presence, have you encountered any problems yet?"

"Other than the humans calling me Ryosuke? I want to have them all beheaded."

"That would prove unwise lord." Her head bowed and her busy hands proved tired as I kept talking.

"Tell me something I do not know." I sighed and dropped my arms to the side.

"I am sorry to not be of help, could I take samples and examine your body sir?" Her hands held a syringe and a vial, and in her arms dangled a measuring tape which I quickly examined before grunting an answer.

"Granted."

Snap

I exited out of the domain, finding myself in a laboratory Uraume had secured for me. The white walls were coated with ancient scriptures and fun decorations. A few bones here and there just to my liking, as I kept admiring the room, Uraume examined my new body's blood with the same syring and vial.

"What are you looking for inside my blood really?"

"Signs of stress, rejection and of course any foreign cursed techniques, this is a jujutsu researcher after all, it would be surprising htere is no kind of trick here."

"Right you are U-" I bit my mouth as the syringe touched my vein, a feeling so clear that had even me straightening my back in a kind of fear.

"Sorry, I should have warned, that's leaving a bruise sometime in the day."

I shot her a bloodshot (no pun intended) look as she clinks the vial with her long nails, the clicking sound makking my face twitch.

"The results will be in a week, so busy yourself acting normal to your new peers and do not exert the body in any way." Uruame's monotone half commanded as she inserted the vial into a centrifuge.

I rubbed the inside of my arm tenderly as I walked out of the room, with little effort, my technique transported me back to Ryosuke's home.

I should start asimilating myself more with that name if I want to keep the body safe for now...

The air today was dense, I could tell a storm was about to cross paths with me as I crossed the street. The pungent city air was an offense to my ancient nose, how can anyone live in this place?

I slam the door open, the floor behind me dripping wet from the storm, the walk from home to the tech was pretty long. No wonder this Ryosuke's guy house is so broke, still as soon as I came in your head shot towards me.

"Good afternoon Ryo!" a chirp accompanied by your feathery voice. How is it that you maintain that in a place like this?

"Afternoon." I mumbled back as i shook off whatever droplets that still clinged to me. A slight palpitating vein on my forhead reminded me of my role today, to be human.

"How was your day? Any luck out there with information?" your tone soothed his annoyance as he relaxed his shoulders and looked at you directly.

"Tired...." I took a minute for a brief pause before trying to understand what you meant. "On what?" On instinct, his brow jumped up as he spoke.

"We all are, whenever students are on break, principal gives the heaviest loads of work doesn't he?" you took a candy from a little tray and unwrapped it with skill, and in a swift move, into your mouth it went. "On finding what the bindings of the fingers meant" you mumbled with your mouth full.

I shot a small nod of acknowledgment as I answer "Not really, there is no easy way to translate those to modern language. I feel like lighting it all on fire now that I think about it." I huffed in fake annoyance as I walked towards you, a slight pull against your mouth revealed a chuckle.

That chuckle, you let out a chuckle as soon as I spoke that, god I could never forget my exact words today, you just happened to smile. What is it about me that is so amusing to you? I don't know what I am supposed to say, so I thought that being a normal human I could just take the chance.

"Positive as ever Ryo, on the good side-" You hinted, that is before I interrupted. What good side is she even talking about?

"There is no good side." I interrupted as I stitch my brows together holding a staring contest with her.

"Shut up, let me speak" You chuckled with an eye roll. "We're going out for drinks, celebrating surviving your first few weeks here, basically that you're alive and no curse has tried to kill you yet!"

It seemed almost moronic, to asume that I would let myself be defeated by some mere stupid curse. I rubbed my temples carefuly before decidding on what to answer. As you typed away on the computer, as the smoking doctor's secretary, I noticed the slight rash on your hand.

"Hasn't the school doctor checked that rash?"

"Don't concern yourself over this, instead tell me so I can call it off with the staff here. They all think you're very promising and kind researcher, all the others have been asses really." You blew away a stray hair as you kept on typing, barely looking at me anymore. That stupid lingering smile of yours. God can someone be as hard to read as you? What are you even thinking?

"Shoko has been pretty busy with the resurgence of a phenomenon where people start growing plants out of their bodies, pretty weird if you ask me." You added as the swift little fingers kept on moving from one key to the other.

Without warning my sight turned hazy and soon everything spun. I held my temples and tried facing you as best as I could.

"I zoned out, sorry, I can't believe the plant thing though-" i sighed and looked down, feeling like my whole body was shutting down. "I... Does Shoko have any pills for migraines?" Soon my equilibrium was turning like gelatin, feeling the whole rigidness of my body turn water in a matter of seconds.

"Ryosuke?" you called out but soon enough I felt my body crash down, I had never experienced this before.

--------

"25-year-old male, Ryosuke Ijichi—septicemia! He’s fainted in the ambulance. He’s febrile, tachypneic, and unresponsive!"

That's all I heard as I felt myslef being hauled from room to room, a bunch of Jujutsu medics swarming over me like some kind of anomaly. My eyes were stitched shut and movement was impossible.

"Temp’s at 39.7°C, respiratory rate 28 per minute—he’s in respiratory distress."

I tried moving and even swinging at one of the doctors as every possible hand was on me. My arm was burning and I could feel some kind of bump on the spot where Uraume had taken blood from.

"Get a liter of saline in—fast. We need to draw blood cultures, CBC, and get a lactate level ASAP. Start him on vancomycin and meropenem for broad-spectrum coverage."

All these doctors were talking over me, and I swear I could not comprehend for the thousand years of my life a single thing. An oxygen mask was placed over my mouth and soon enough I could feel myself doze off again.

"Heart rate 140, blood pressure’s tanking—85 over 50! He’s hypotensive and febrile!"

As I was dragged to a final room, I could feel two strong presences between me. A soft warm hand placed against my forehead and a strong hand that covered my throat.

"This is not your body is it?"

2k words.

~~~~~ A/N

Yoohoo! Heya there, I hope you enjoyed it after a long time of not hearing from this story. Sorry about it. Really. Plus thank chat gpt and my friend for the awesome medical terms and dialogue because I have close to 0 idea to what CBC or febrile is. Sorry that this wasn't really centered around romance, I tried setting the setting as best as I could I swear the next chapter is about fluff and comfort!!

As a preview and motivation to like yn is much better introduced in the next page and we get tension!

[parislovesf1]

Secrets Out

Lance Stroll social media

HI THERE EVERYONE!!!

this is my first ever post here on tumblr & first time writing fanfiction for my beloved Lance. Requests are now open for any F1 drivers and I’m going to be posting atleast a few times a week if possible but I hope you guys enjoy this!

@paddockgossipgirls just posted a photo!

BREAKING NEWS!!!

tagged @lancestroll @y/n y/l/n

A few lucky fans who were fortunate enough to snag paddock passes for the recent Australian Grand Prix in Melbourne, managed to snap some rather interesting & intimate looking pictures of popular australian influencer; y/n y/l/n & F1 Aston Martin Driver; Lance Stroll. The pair appeared to be very close with each other as they entered the paddock together on Friday morning as there was laughter and smiles all round on arrival. The two were later spotted multiple times wandering around the paddock during the weekend between practices & qualifying sessions.

What do we think of this new F1 couple?

Is there a new incoming wag joining the paddock?

Comment your thoughts, opinions and let us know what else you want to hear about in the wonderful world of F1 & Motorsport!!

- F1 gossip girls xoxo

comments

@lancefan18 I thought him & Sara just broke up?

@lancestrollolol she’s so pretty oh my god, I love Lance but that woman is out of his league 🧎🏻‍♀️🧎🏻‍♀️

*liked by @lancestroll and 9.3k others.

@y/nislife Y/N IS DATING AN F1 DRIVER?! MOTHER HAS WON YALL.

@lomlstroll uhh if anyone is lucky it’s y/n

*liked by @y/ny/l/n and 4.2k others

@astonmartinf1 💚.

16k likes. 5k replies.

@F1wagupdates could we be adding another way to the grid soon? @lancestroll

*liked by @estebanocon & @fernandoalo_oficial

@y/n y/l/n just posted a photo!

@y/ny/l/n #18 on the grid, #1 in my heart 💚

tagged @lancestroll

1.2 million likes 658k comments

load more comments

@astonmartinf1 welcome to the family💚 @y/ny/l/n

342k likes 128k replies..

*liked by @y/ny/l/n and @lancestroll

@fernandoalo_oficial they grow up so fast! 🎉

651k likes 350k replies

*liked by @y/ny/l/n , @lancestroll and others

@F1 can’t wait to see these two on the grid together !!! 🏁🤍

*liked by @y/ny/l/n, @astonmartinf1 and others

@lancestroll just posted a photo!

@lancestroll. secrets out I guess, but I’m not mad that I can show you off to the world whenever now 💚

tagged @y/ny/l/n

1.4 million likes. 694k comments

load more comments

@y/ny/l/n. i like it when you kiss me like that🤭

@lancestroll I’m ready whenever & wherever you are my love x

@estebanocon congrats on the hard launch you two❤️

*liked by @lancestroll and @y/n y/l/n

@maxverstappen1 happy for you man, Kelly can’t wait to see y/n again !!

@y/n y/l/n surely at the next race right! ❤️

@danielriccardo excuse me while I go BARF, jk congrats lovebirds x

*liked by @y/n y/l/n and @Lancestroll

[thoughtportal]

'Megalopolis' is a piece of s—t

SFGATE columnist Drew Magary begs you not to see Francis Ford Coppola's new film

This is not a review. This is a warning. If I gave Francis Ford Coppola’s “Megalopolis” a standard movie review and told you that it was an incoherent mess on par with “Rebel Moon” (which it is), your fanboy reflexes would kick and you’d write me off. You’d take me as just another pair of glasses dead set on panning a movie just to bolster their art cred. I hate critics like that, and so do you.

So I’m telling you this not as a reviewer, but as a friend: Do not see this movie. It is a piece of s—t.

You’ve been warned various times already. You were warned when the Guardian reported this spring that crew members on “Megalopolis” described its making, paid for entirely by Coppola thanks to his fortune in winemaking, as a “train wreck.” You were warned when that same article leveled allegations that the old man would sexually harass female crew members (barf) and burn hours of shooting time just hanging out and smoking weed instead of working (OK I respect it). Coppola has denied the allegations, and has sued Variety for its own investigation into his reported wrongdoing. In its introduction, the written complaint in that suit includes the sentence, “Some people are jealous and resentful of genius.” Go ahead and take that sentence as a warning, too.

Because Coppola has been running defense for this film basically ever since it wrapped. Lionsgate, the only studio willing to distribute Coppola’s vanity project, tried to get ahead of the damage by releasing a trailer larded with critical barbs that had been levied against Coppola’s old masterpieces, quotes that turned out to be fabricated.

But perhaps those warnings haven’t been enough. Perhaps, like me, you keep a soft spot in your heart for Coppola, a member of the auteur revolution who made a string of masterpieces through the ’70s and ’80s, but has made none since. Perhaps, like me, you were drawn in by a cast that includes Adam Driver, Aubrey Plaza, Dustin Hoffman, the god Giancarlo Esposito and other luminaries. And perhaps, like me, you’re so worn out by corporate filmmaking that you’re down with any movie that showcases pure artistic ambition, even if the end result is a misfire. Maybe this thing is a disaster, but maybe that’s the fun of it, yeah? Like gawking at a car wreck?

Wrong. This movie is unwatchable. It deserves to live in infamy, with its title acting as shorthand for any multimillion-dollar flop borne out of monstrous ego. I took a bullet watching “Megalopolis” for you. An actual bullet would have been kinder.

I’ll give you the details as best as I can manage. “Megalopolis” — oh I’m sorry, “Megalopolis: A Fable” — is Coppola’s attempt to portray near-future America as Ancient Rome. And brother, he is NOT subtle about it. He renames New York as New Rome. He gives every male actor a Caesar cut. He throws in engraved title cards throughout the movie that look like the menu of an SNES game. He turns Madison Square Garden into the Coliseum and uses it for an extended bacchanalia scene that goes on longer than a Catholic wedding. And he dresses up Shia LaBeouf, a talented actor whose face I never want to see again, in toga drag. Why is Shia in drag? What’s his character up to? Please don’t expect answers to any of that.

Here is the plot, as best as I can divine it. Driver plays Cesar Catilina, who runs the Design Authority of New Rome, which has its own police force for some reason. We know that Cesar is an architect, because the posters for “Megalopolis” all show Driver holding a magic T-square. We do not actually see him use that T-square in this movie. In fact, we don’t see him doing any nuts-and-bolts design work of any kind. This is because Cesar’s real occupation is Godfather of New Rome. He somehow has more influence in New Rome than the city’s mayor (Esposito), ANDhe has the power to stop time. How he acquired this ability is never explained. In fact, the movie gives Cesar this power for virtually zero narrative purpose.

Cesar is tortured. His wife has died, and Cesar is mourning her by doing lots of blow and sleeping with salacious TV reporter Wow Platinum, played by Aubrey Plaza. Turning Aubrey Plaza blonde is one of many crimes that Coppola perpetrates in this film. Now, Wow Platinum has some skeezy motives of her own (she’s a gold digger), so Cesar is wary.

He also has beef with Mayor Cicero, who apparently tried to implicate Cesar in his wife’s death, and who is working to prevent Cesar’s Design Authority from building Megalopolis, the architect’s vision of a future city. None of this is explained with any clarity. More important, it’s boring.

The rivalry between Cesar and Cicero grows more heated when the former falls in love with the mayor’s daughter, Julia. Julia is played by Nathalie Emmanuel, whose only direction from Coppola appears to have been, “act like you’re the love interest in a Michael Bay film.” Julia is a reporter (I think?) who’s loyal to her father but enchanted by this brooding, wide-chested rival. Is this love? Does the fate of Driver’s new “city,” which we know is the city of the future because it has moving walkways that glow, depend on them staying away from one another? Do I care about ANY of this s—t?

I don’t.

The plot I described above is barely discernible through the excruciating 138-minute running time of “Megalopolis.” I had to piece the story together myself while enduring things that no paying moviegoer should ever have to sit through. There’s that endless Coliseum scene, featuring a musical interlude from the city’s “virgin sweetheart,” who turns out to be older than she claimed (no!) and not a virgin at all (ZOMG!). In fact, she f—ked Cesar! On camera! Is nothing pure?

It gets dumber. There’s a scene where Julia, with the film’s incoherent score blasting in the background, solemnly reads not one, but THREE quotes from Marcus Aurelius in a row, giving the Roman emperor attribution after each one of them. There is Dustin Hoffman looking lost. There is Jon Voight looking even MORE lost. Driver is just about the only person here who does his best with the material he’s given. He acts so, so hard. Admirably so. Everyone else, with great justification, looks like they’re already embarrassed to be here. They know this thing is going to be a lemon, and act accordingly.

That includes Laurence Fishburne, in full “Matrix 2” mode playing both a chauffeur and an occasional narrator. That also includes Jason Schwartzman, who gets almost no lines in the film but shows up mostly because he’s related to Coppola. And it includes Plaza, who will absolutely be the best interviewee from this cast whenever Werner Herzog films a documentary about how awful the production was.

Oh hey, did I mention that there’s an Elvis impersonator singing the national anthem? That was random. There are also still photos of 9/11 (Rome falling alert!), plus an “interactive element” where a live performer in the auditorium asks questions of the on-screen Cesar as part of a press conference scene. It adds nothing.

There’s a jarring sequence where a little kid walks up to Driver’s car and shoots him in the face (credit where it’s due, Coppola still knows how to film a murder), but the bullet turns Driver’s right eye into a miniature galaxy before the wound magically heals altogether.

And, most importantly, there is Voight in a Robin Hood outfit, asking Plaza, “What do you think of this boner I got?” before shooting her in the chest with an arrow. That one’ll be a meme.

Save for Voight’s erect midnight cowboy, nothing else about “Megalopolis” will last. The dialogue is terrible. The color palette is nearly as incongruent as the music. The overdubbing sometimes doesn’t match the actors’ lips at all. The visual effects are terrible, featuring virtual sets that look like early design mockups Coppola never bothered to flesh out. Even the PROPS are terrible. Every physical prop in “Megalopolis” looks like Coppola either found it in his garage or asked his grandkids to make it for him. This movie cost the old man $120 million. He sold one of his wineries off to finance it. You could have shot a better looking movie with your phone.

And that’s really all there is to it. The only reason this film was released was because Coppola made it, and the only reason that Coppola made it was because he’s a centimillionaire. This is very much the work of a bored old stoner. I knew it five minutes into “Megalopolis.” I also knew that I was stuck.

Don’t let that happen to you. Don’t be tempted by Coppola, or by the cast, or by any contrarian review that attempts to kick off a reassessment of this disaster that it will never deserve. This movie is garbage. It doesn’t work as “so bad it’s good” camp. It doesn’t work as a “fable.” It doesn’t work as a noble attempt at a Big Statement. It doesn’t work at all. I’m sorry I watched it, and I will genuinely think less of anyone who finds it redeemable. There are plenty of directing legends, Martin Scorsese chief among them, who have great stories left to tell. “Megalopolis” proves that Coppola is not one of them. This man doesn’t know how to make good movies anymore. In fact, he doesn’t appear to know how to make any movie anymore. 

Before my screening, the studio hosted a livestreamed Q&A with Coppola, Spike Lee and Robert De Niro. Toward the end of that Q&A, De Niro, an outspoken liberal, looked out at the audience and said to them, “Just imagine Trump directing this movie.” Bobby, I don’t have to.

[zecretsanta]

to: @ladylakebees 

from: @goggles-girl

Hello! Hope you enjoy this piece! This was my first ever ZE fic so please enjoy!

The Field siblings hosting a Christmas celebration with Junpei, Lotus, Seven, and Alice present. Christmas activity highlight: throwing darts at a board with Ace’s mugshot on it.

“Clover, don’t you think that’s enough tinsel?”

  Clover’s bright pink hair popped up from the box of Christmas decorations she had buried herself in.

  “Ugh, you’re such a Scrooge, Light. Tinsel is the best Christmas decoration. I want this tree to sparkle and shimmer!”

  “To the contrary,” Light said. “I’m sure that’s an admirable goal to have but I can’t help but wonder if you might have been more successful in that endeavor had you not started decorating the tree with only an hour to go before the party.”

  Clover let out a huff before silently sticking her tongue out at her brother.

  “Keep that up and a bird is going to make a nest on it,” Light said, not even bothering to turn his head in her direction.

  “Don’t you have a quiche or something to check on?!?” Clover asked, brushing glitter off of her sweater.

  “Indeed. I suppose I shall leave you too it.” Light carefully excused himself from the rocking chair he had been sitting in and made his way to the kitchen of the little townhouse the Field siblings shared.

Even having been around him for years, Clover was amazed at how self-sufficient her brother was. She regularly burned herself on pots and pans and had the scars to prove it, yet he was a perfect natural.

  Shaking her head, she turned back to the large Christmas tree in front of her. It was her first time decorating for the holiday as their parents didn’t really celebrate, but she was determined to make it a good time for all involved. She and Light had gone to a specialty store a week ago and bought two large boxes of tinsel, ornaments, lights, and customized stockings. This resulted in the apartment looking as if Santa himself had barfed all over it, but it didn’t matter to Clover.

  As she continued to place tinsel and ribbon around the tree, Clover got lost in thought making sure everything looked good-so much so that when a knock sounded at the door she nearly jumped a foot off the ground.

  “I’ll get it!” she yelled to her brother who was still tinkering around in the kitchen. She raced to the door and took a peak through the peephole. On the other side was the strange woman she and her companions had picked up on the side of the road in Nevada. Instead of the Egyptian costume she had once worn, here she appeared to be in a cozy grey keyhole sweater and a black skirt.

  Clover flung the door open. “Alice! You made it!”

  The dark-haired woman let out a soft giggle. “Why of course, I couldn’t miss the party of the year now, could I?”

  “Come in, come in!” Clover stepped to the side so Alice could enter. After closing the door behind her, she wrapped her in a big hug.

  “I hope I’m not too early,” Alice said. She set down what looked like a wax-sealed wine bottle down then hung her purse on the hook next to the door.

  “Not at all!” Light called from the kitchen.

  Alice picked up the wine bottle and moved in his direction.

  “Bonjour ma chérie! Comment vas-tu?” Light was particularly fond of Alice, not only because he felt she might be a good influence on his little sister but also because it gave him a chance to practice his French.

  “Je vais bien, et vous?” she responded, pressing her cheek to his and making a kiss sound.

  “Je vais très bien,” Light said, reciprocating the gesture.

  “This is a lovely place you two have. Seems you’ve done quite well for yourself,” Alice commented, making her way to the living room. 

  “Anything’s better than being followed around by those lame bodyguards. Such a nuisance. Pretty sure that one bald guy was a pervert too,” Clover huffed.

   “Well I’m glad things have worked out well for the both of you.” Alice smiled warmly. “Do you need any help with your tree?”

  “Yes! Help me decorate Alice!” Clover jumped up and ran over to the open box on the floor. “Take these!” She thrust a small box of pink and blue ornaments towards her friend excitedly.

  The two continued to work on the tree and chat while Light busied himself in the kitchen. After about 20 minutes, another knock sounded on the door, this one much deeper and heftier than when Alice had arrived.

  “Clover?” Light called.

  “Got it!” The girl yelled and ran for the door, nearly tripping over a string of ribbon spiraling down from the tree.

  As Clover glanced through the peephole, she saw a small cluster of people-a tall, broad man, a shorter, younger man about Clover’s age, a middle aged woman and two girls also around Clover’s age that looked similar to each other and also the older woman.

  “Hey guys! Merry Christmas!” Clover said as she threw the front door open.

  “Clover!” One of the young girls squealed and threw her arms around Clover’s neck. Ennea had cut her hair into a short angled bob recently and was wearing a gray beanie, black leggings and a red and gray flannel, seemingly going for comfort over festivity.

  “It’s so good to see you guys!” Clover said, moving on to the first girl’s twin and squeezing her tight. Nona had beautiful long black hair that was woven into an intricate braid with little red and green Christmas bells tied in to match her green silky dress and red sweater worn over the top of it, much more festive than her sister.

  “My, Clover, life seems to be treating you well,” Lotus, or Hazuki as she was more commonly known, took her turn to give Clover a hug before stepping into the townhome. Hazuki was wearing a teal dress with a white coat and black strappy pumps. It wasn’t terribly cold outside but Clover couldn’t help but wonder if the lady was chilled at all.

  “Even better now that you guys are here!” 

  Clover waved the big hulking man into the room. “Hey get in here ya big lug, you’re letting all the warm air out.”

  Once it was free of his large orange blazer, Seven’s big hand landed on Clover’s head and tousled her hair, much to her chagrin. “Good to see ya too, brat.”

  Finally all that was left outside was Junpei. He looked much more haggard than the last time Clover had seen him, with unkempt hair and dark circles under his eyes. It had taken a lot to get him to agree to come to the party, but seeing the dead look in his eyes she was more grateful than ever that Seven had basically threatened to kidnap him if he didn’t come on his own.

  “Hey Junpei.”

  “Hey Clover.”

  After a moment of hesitation, she pulled him into a hug. It was a careful, delicate embrace. She was afraid if she squeezed too hard he would break into pieces in her hands. The smell of alcohol on his warm breath told her that he was doing even worse than she had thought. But then again, she couldn’t blame him. She knew exactly what losing someone that mattered so much to you felt like, and frankly drinking away your sorrows was a lot tamer than what she could imagine herself doing if things went too far.

  “I’m really glad you could make it,” she said softly, receiving a faint squeeze from his arm in response.

  As she led Junpei back into the heart of the house, Light was setting down the enormous fruit platter Hazuki and her daughters had brought. Alice was talking to Ennea and Nona while Seven and Hazuki settled into the couch.

  “Junpei! What a delight to have you in our presence this fine Christmas Eve.” Light grinned at the dark haired man who had just arrived. If there was anything the Field siblings shared, it was their fondness for Junpei.

  “Hey Sn-Light,” Junpei said.

  Light’s face broke out into a lopsided grin that anyone who didn’t know him might assume meant he was being a smartass. “Please feel free to call me what feels comfortable to you.”

  “Thanks, man,” Junpei nodded at him. He then settled down onto a love seat, wrapping his black leather jacket closer around him.

  “Perfect timing everyone! Now that we’re all here, our food is ready. Please come eat your fill and enjoy a variety of cocktails and other drinks,” Light proudly announced to rest of the room.

  “Light, could you please change the music??” Clover pleaded with her brother as their guests began to fill their plates in the kitchen.

  “Why would that be? Do you not find Tchaikovsky a perfect accompaniment for a Christmas party?” Light asked with a quizzical expression on his face.

  “Classical music is so lame for any party. Besides, I think some more classic Christmas spirit vibes would help cheer Junpei up.”

  “Ah, I suppose you might be right. Fine, I will play something more cheerful.” Light disappeared into the other room before coming back with a new CD, which he promptly switched out in the player.

  As more mainstream Christmas carols began to play in the background, the guests began to settle back into their seats in the living room with full glasses and plates. While they ate, they each recounted where life had taken them in the months since the event that had brought them altogether. Hazuki had scored a great programming job that she was proud of, while Ennea had followed in her mother’s footsteps and was studying computer science in college. Nona announced that she was taking courses in criminal psychology, which perked Alice’s ears up. 

  The two of them continued a private conversation as Seven informed the rest of the group that he and Junpei had been investigating “some freaky cult” that had ties to Hongou, and therefore the Kurashikis. Seven seemed optimistic about their chances of not only crushing the potentially dangerous group but also finding the perpetrators of the second Nonary Game. Clover could tell though that Junpei was uncomfortable with this line of discussion, his knuckles turning white around the beer he was nursing.

  Apparently Light could tell as well without Clover needing to nudge him, because as soon as Seven was finished talking he stepped right in.

  “Speaking of Mr. Hongou, I took the liberty of planning an extra activity for the night. I thought it could bring some catharsis to our particular cast of characters. If you’ll follow me.” With that, Light stood up and began making his way to the back door.

  “What did you do??” Clover whispered, following close behind him.

  “Oh you will see,” Light dismissed her.

  As the group made their way into the small backyard that came with the town home, Light made his way over to a strange contraption that was facing the back wall. It was a vertical wooden square supported by two planks, one on each side connecting to another horizontal piece of wood attached to wheels at the ground. Light pulled it away from the wall and turned it to face the guests before opening the top piece of wood to reveal a dart board underneath-except this board was covered by something. As Light stepped out of the way, darts in hand, Clover let out a giggle.

  “Oh you didn’t.” Hazuki let out a shocked gasp but the look in her eyes was one of glee.

  “How did you even get that?” Nona asked.

  “It’s public record, just like all mug shots are,” Light smirked. Plastered on top of the dart board was the mug shot of Gentarou Hongou, taken just hours after the second Nonary Game participants made their way back to civilization and explained their story.

  “Now who would like to go first?” Light asked, extending his hand with the darts to the crowd.

  “Shit, don’t mind if I do,” Seven said. He grabbed a dart from Light’s hand, squinted his right eye, stuck out his tongue and let the dart fly. It was a decent throw but still only hit the edge of the paper.

  “Nice shot,” Alice said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

  “Hey lady, I’m just gettin’ warmed up. Think you could do better?”

  Without a word, Alice exchanged her eggnog for a dart and pushed the mountain of a man out of the way as best as she could. Clover watched as she straightened her posture and adjusted her arm. No one let out a breath for a few silent seconds, then Alice let the dart fly. It hit Hongou square in his mouth.

  “Lucky shot,” Seven muttered under his breath, walking away and downing the rest of his beer.

  “Damn Alice, didn’t know you were a darts champion,” Hazuki said.

  “What can I say, my line of work has some unexpected benefits. Never hurts to be a well-rounded person,” Alice smiled.

  “Who wants to go next?” Light asked, pulling the darts from the board.

  Ennea and Nona both began clamoring for the next dart, but Clover wasn’t paying them any mind. She took a glance at Junpei, who had cracked the first smile she had seen all evening. 

  “Hey,” Clover said, sidling up to him and taking the available seat on the concrete bench he had perched himself on.

  “Hey,” he said, not really looking at her.

  “Are you doing okay, Junpei?”

  A sigh. “Is that a trick question?”

  “You know what I mean, you jerk.”

  “Well, I’m not trapped in a sinking boat, or being axe-murdered or something so I guess in the grand scheme of things it could be worse.” Junpei took a swig of his beer as Ennea landed a dart on Hongou’s hair.

  “You’re telling me,” Clover forced a chuckle in an attempt to lighten the mood. It landed flat.

  “Thanks for the concern though.”

  “Hey.” It came out more forceful than intended, but it worked-he turned to face her. “It’s going to be okay. You’ll find her. And in the meantime, you have us. That’s worth something, right?” She could feel tears starting to well up but she forced her face to remain determined.

  Junpei’s face softened. “Yeah. That’s worth a lot of somethings.” She felt his hand find hers along the bench and give her a reassuring squeeze. 

  The two of them spent the rest of the night watching the others play darts, with Junpei eventually drifting off to sleep. He had rested his head on her shoulder, and she was scared to move lest she disturb the peaceful look that had finally found its way to his face. At some point Seven found a blanket and laid it over their shoulders, and Clover began to drift off to sleep too, her heart happy being surrounded by the ones she loved and the Christmas spirit.

[patricialupien]

Jesus Fucking Christ I hate Generative AI. I hate it with the passion of a thousand black holes. There is very little you can do to convince me that it has any purpose OTHER THAN TO PISS ME OFF!

Firstly, it's stealing. You're taking other people's art, other people's prose and passing it off as something you created, with no credit to the original innovator. It's being fed into a programmed sieve and turning someone's hard work into generic slop. It doesn't understand the original intent of the art and barfs it out and homogenizes it. (And for your information, I'm utilizing larger words just to fuck with the scrapers. Fear My Vocabulary Skills!)

Secondly, it's cheating. It's cheating creators of jobs to save a buck. The originators of the text that you stole to make your own AI story that you pushed up to Amazon Publishing to make a quick sale worked extremely hard to find the right words, the right phrasing in order to make the reader feel something. The journalists that are being pushed out of the press studied for years on how to present the facts in an unbiased way and still retain their style. Animators who have dreamed of working for a certain studio are being regulated (another big word) to storyboarding and cleanup because "AI will fill in the gaps." Voice Actors who have put nuance and subtlety into each phrase are having their voice patterns and pronunciations fed through and algorithm so that they won't be paid for future projects. Producers will just pull out a file labeled "J.K Simmons" or "Laura Bailey" and use their vocal likenesses without pay or accreditation.

I personally agonized for years on going back to school to get my degree in Graphic Design. But I realized that even with the background, no one would hire me without a Bachelor's Degree. So I went back to school. In total, it took me 18 years to finally get a Bachelor's degree in Graphic Design. I learned about proportion and color theory and techniques and tools, and I busted my ass! It took my free time, losing friends in the process. It took my money to get a degree. I have over 30 years of various experience from illustration to design, learning how to observe, to use tools as they evolved. I know about Gouache and watercolor and ink and anatomy. I know about Pagemaker and Quark and InDesign. Art has been my life. It's all I ever wanted to do. And I know I'm not unique. There are thousands like me in similar situations, with more talent, more knowledge, more invested in what they love.

And now the arts and humanities will be clouded with AI content that will eventually cannabalize itself. I am now not qualified to do my job, my passion, because I'm trained, and it'll cost less to have some prompt monkey plug in random words to try to get a half decent result. I can't appreciate anything that I see on my feed at first glance, because I have to count the fingers and look for flaws like some sort of forgery detective at the Louvre. AI art has made me cynical, where as art used to make me feel hopeful and magical. Meta has decided I need AI friends and influencers now while burying the people I want to connect to.

I am angry beyond words.

I don’t need AI, nor do I want it. Kindly stick your prompts in the hell that the NFT monkeys are suffering in.

[metalleafy]

BFDIA 14 thoughts (spoilers ahoy)

I can't believe they brought back the basketball rain of all things. Oh that thing in the promo image was a bunk bed. Lollipop face time is cool!! Finally TB admitted the cloud was a snowball.

Somehow I thought coiny liked bugs. David rave!! Shout out to yoylestraw, and now we have a host we can understand. I like the use of Pan Flute as a graph, it's what Kevin MacLeod would have wanted.

Shout out to Coiny making Pin get everything back but her limbs! Then why did we have the whole compacting thing anyway, just for false hope? I wish we would at least find out who controls everything in BFDI, probably just the Huangs.

Spongy relaxing on a beach with Bubbly Pop is great, and they're keeping the tradition of him killing hosts. The little instrument guys are back but they're dead, which is too bad. I like that they're still keeping the insulting cell phones from BFDI 25 in play.

I have come to like Barf Bag more after this episode, I just pay more attention to BFDIA. The LOLers being the host is so nice. I didn't like that GB got voted off, she is a favorite of mine, but it does help with TB's arc of learning how to do things on his own. It's funny that she was eliminated by a golf club.

OK I just realized rewatching for the post that Match being satisfied is probably a reference to how she and GB were in the bottom 2 in 5a. And GB screaming exactly how she did in BFDI 1a is just... :) I know it's nostalgia catnip but it works on me!! Kind of reminds me of Homestar Runner somehow

The Crappy Cliff being mentioned on the wheel is silly, I kind of like it. Pan Flute being killed because they spent money on the poster is sad but his manner of death was funny looking at least! And his influence is felt throughout this episode. Kevin MacLeod is a good sport for letting his character be killed, and iconic tracks REAL BFDI fans will remember are heard all over the contest, including the backwards remix of Sunshine as heard in BFDI 1b! I wish he put that on the vinyl record...

I can't believe Eggy hates poly freesmart so much. I kind of like the pair logos, I wish TB said "pair up? okay" like he did in BFDI 17, that would be a cool easter egg to add for longtime fans. This episode makes Tennickel a viable couple, and not just because Nickel was a good substitute for GB.

More Snowball content is always welcome, he is a jerk but a funny jerk at his best (at his worst he's just complaining about armless people). We get to see the Five Islands here, so they probably won't be the prize instead of the farm. Bottle talking about Evil Leafy made me want to start #bottlevil as a semi-joke but also yuri

The constant talk about "island 1" Is probably a BFDI 6 reference, but I'm not sure enough to put it on the wiki. Anything that is BFDI 17 Recommended Characters Auditions Mentioned makes me smile, like the "only ball with lines" bit. The Go Guys are back in HQ! And characters running through the Evil Forest with BFDIA 1 music is so familiar, especially since they are technically running from Evil Leafy, making it the opposite of BFDIA 1!

The FreeSmart SuperCoffin is so unhinged and I love it. Donut saying "NO!" is the only thing people remember about him since he was eliminated early but that was a setup anyway since the other two were CoinPin and all Donut did was bicker with Pencil. Coiny jumping from vine to vine is cool.

I can't believe TB just used his powers for evil. Oh, I get it, Fries fed his fries to Bomby, thats why he has one left. There's a PERC on Dora's island, I wish its pencil-excluding aspect was more relevant, because I want to see more specific recovery centers! There are ones for individual contestants, what about groups like teams or plant objects?

Pillow just learned pillows exist. I thought Needle slapped Book from far away. I like the use of Rocket by Kevin MacLeod with the "snatch" gag, and it's also a stealth pun on the rocket packs. I can't believe they used his track that was in a carykh video about all the recommended characters, though.

I just realized the teddy bears are the same types as the We Bare Bears. I like Teardrop's island, but I can't believe we saw Teardrop's cousins on BFDI before Gelatin's brothers. This may be a reference to an early "recolor camp" called BOTTLE, but that's probably pretty obscure.

ITS THE FREESMART COMEBACK OF THE CENTURY!!! And Ruby wanting to bring back Bubble is so adorable. Especially since I watched BFDIA 2 at the same location a lil more than 12 yrs ago and I was sad that Ruby didn't want Bubble back. #fullcircle

I love Cyborg Pin, by the way. I would rather her stay that way forever than have limbs. Of course they used the Teardrop Family Reunion line. I thought Coffee Drop would be diarrhea because they were near a porta potty and the other characters with many relatives have Poo relatives.

Pencil using helium to make fun of Ruby was so silly, especially since they used to have the same voice actor (Ruby switched Huangs after BFDIA 6, I just looked that up). I love that Bubble can fly if she is inflated enough, and that little Spongy mouth! TB calling Toilet Brush TB is a really good bit.

SPRINGY SHOES MENTIONED!!! Is everything that comes out of Pin replaced by ooze? Also Camera and Teardrop's Pirate Adventure mentioned. The characters trading off short voice clips was so random but I liked it, the Match/Pin rivalry from early BFDI is back! I never knew how much I missed, like, Match until now.

Coiny with the hammer reminded me of "be more careful" right away and I felt vindicated to see it used. Bob-Omb recommended character being a bobber combined with a bomb is underrated. Nickel has that Chip Skylark energy. I love Teardrop's pirate ship.

Puffball Island is awesome! I wish they stayed talking like Puffball. Did Fries just call Puffball brat? Pin's song is the best, by the way. BUBBLE SAYING YOYLECAKE AGAIN~ Bomby censoring Fries's anti-Puffball song is a good one. I wanted to hear Coiny sing.

I have come to like Puffneedle and I always saw a common bond between them with them both having nicknames, I'm the yuri hipster. Pencil is finally respecting Needle! Ruby's tactic to steal a song was very cool. BUT PIN SNAPPING IS EVEN COOLER!!! That scene was so Homestuck but also Fear Garden.

I ended up voting for Ruby to get the prize and Book to be eliminated. I like Book but I like Ruby more, so consider voting Book out VTSing Ruby. Also, I feel Evil Leafy should have been used better. What's the point of having a superpowered evil version of the best character in the show if she doesn't even get to kill someone, or talk to Bubble somehow?

[saintmeghanmarkle]

Guerrilla advertising for the in-crowd? by u/Economy-Alfalfa-2241

Guerrilla advertising for the in-crowd? So our Chip-pan Ghost has finally materialised into her true form, which is going to take over the world via boiled vegetable products. The Jam Empress rises like a phoenix, casting her beatific glow upon us, her adoring subjects. Granted, we've mostly said "woddaf? Mentalist" but whilst sending someone a plant pot with a couple of lemons, a jar of botulism and a HAndWriTtEn NoTe in notigraphy is absolutely hilariously funny, I did wonder...I assumed the lemons were just because. I'm a GhastlyPoor, we don't have Aesthetics to worry about, but didn't the nobby posh pips just do the whole declutter thing? Thanks, we needed more random crap and this is a bucket of prime random (honestly, this is all so bizarrely funny it writes itself) from who? What? Eh? Oh god, not that ghastly thirsty woman again...note to self; get restraining order. But strawberry jam and lemons are connected - iirc, pectin is needed for strorbs and the original source is lemons. No idea why I know that or how I know that. Obviously Education worked for that day.But I suddenly remembered Lemonada. Are these actually fifty desperate "please come into my podcast with this barely-there company so we can talk about me and how I'm not a friendless loser married to a comedy merkin who has been banished to the chicken coop so many times the chickens are evicting him for nuisance" offerings? Poor Clotface, all he wants is a nice quiet space for him and his bong so they can be happy being miserable, but she's got him up trees picking those yellow blobs and it's probably Willy's fault.She didn't get ANY big names after the first two of the ArchSwill tripe, and those two were on the downhill trajectory, their glory years behind them. I'm not up on slebs, but I didn't even recognise any of the others or only in a famous-for-being-famous-thirty-years-ago way, though I don't know if some of the others are names in the US? But if that was for Spotify, THE podcast company providing professionally sourced, recorded and produced material and with loud trumpets farting the Miraculous Arrival, then who is going to do the honours over an iPhone in the shed? The cleaning lady?Is this her touting for new victims to have impactful, authentic voices to lend to the conversation we need to have as seen through the dustbin lid of whatever? Are the stakes now so big - and I just rolled my eyes so hard I'm looking up my own fundament - she's out drumming up business? And if it IS Lemonada, are we just supposed to join the dots ourselves? It could be wryly clever, but bandit advertising relies on random thing going viral. I don't do the whole "influencer" (barf) thing but isn't 600k really just micro-influencer? I don't know how that compares, but I'm guessing in the ballpark of various tragic reality telly stars? But that's kind of the level you need, the types who *are* influenced, except they tend to have short attention spans and lower disposable income and the market is beyond saturated. I think I'm too stupid for this. We're not the "in" club, sinners, we're not supposed to unlock the secrets. Sorreeeee. post link: https://ift.tt/N7dRZGL author: Economy-Alfalfa-2241 submitted: April 18, 2024 at 07:56PM via SaintMeghanMarkle on Reddit disclaimer: all views + opinions expressed by the author of this post, as well as any comments and reblogs, are solely the author's own; they do not necessarily reflect the views of the administrator of this Tumblr blog. For entertainment only.

[vide0-nasties]

random thot but you’re the expert here, which fallout game would suit the camelthots most?

WAS A MISTAKE ASKING ME THIS BITCH DFGJF 💖💖

Short Answer: Fallout 4, but I'm barfing up under the cut lmao.

Long Answer:

The Knights 12 is already built to hardcore fuck as the Brotherhood of Steel bc they're literally based off feudal knights in their ranks—Squire, Scribe (seperate semi-non-combat research/tech/clerical role), Knight, Paladin, Sentinel with sub ranks and titles.

Arthur would be the Elder of the Brotherhood of Steel, which funnily enough the canon Elder is named Arthur (Maxson). He's been urged into a burgeoning occupation of the Commonwealth (Massachusetts) by the Proctors of his various Orders (Sword, Shield, and uhh Quill I think??), but he's reluctant to committ so many forces in such volatile and unmapped territory that's not only wilderness but also occupied urban. Don't know if Synths are gonna be the Devils of this game but I'll come back to mess with that later.

——— There IS a super mutant subplot that's pivotal in the Bethesda East Coast Fallout lore that's heavily focused on their eradication and has a massive influence on their plot.

Since this is a military op, Lancelot is probably one of Arthur's most trusted Sentinels, alongside Lucan. Guen I can see being a Head Scribe or Proctor, as well as Ysele.

I could see Morgana being an ousted Head Scribe who was meant for the Elder title, but muscled out. Weligan I could see being a traveling merc that's built a rep for himself up and down the east coast as a mutant killer, becoming smth like a living legend or smth in that neighborhood. Also, could be a Railroad operative, which would be the perfect thing for his rep to hide. Lead em to what the right hand is doing and away from the left hand.

Elowen I feel like is a hmm. See, so much is tired up in the Brotherhood it's hard to get away from it. But she was a waster in the Capital Wasteland, where the Brotherhood's home base is, and (after the events of Fallout 3, where basically they abuse the Lone Wanderer into facilitating their ascension to being the ruling force in the Wastes [hi Lone Wanderer!Perrin and RW crew 😭😭] by leveraging their good name, they go on a colonizing campaign and make it a Steel territory, then they recruit recruit recruit) was inducted to the BoS as a kid. We got child soldiers baby!! Guyeruenna (sp) and their bunch are former wasters turned Steelers from the same territory.

Mordred I could see being yeah a waster turned Steeler, but not by choice. Could've even been a raider or raider captive. Not sure!

I think the main outliers are the other pagans, who were in the Commonwealth already. This is where the rest of it gets fucky.

Deorwine I could see as being the mayor and last inhabitant of Goodneighbor, which is basically a walled anarchist community, that was wiped out by raiders. The timeline is fucked but it exists, and the other pagans are actually settlements across the region. Nimue is the leader of an independent settlement, and Gawain is kind of next in line to become the General (leader) of the Minutemen, which had become incredibly corrupt at the end before its reformation.

I have to fiddle around and figure out who is the player character role this time—Perrin's the Wanderer and Z's the Courier for instance, so we're looking for the Sole Survivor here—and I think that might be Elowen actually? The basic plot needs redone but that's a given bc Bethesda plots are hot garbage.

I WILL CONTINUE TO CHEW TY FOR ASKING LOVE DFHJD

[vindieselsfacebook-blog]

for the ask game: 9 and 10! i love costume discussion

Thank you for humoring me!!! :') I love costume talk, too, and think the choices in GG are surprisingly thoughtful and so so in-character.

9. fave lorelai outfit

Wow, a huge question. Posting a top 5!!!

My top favorite might just be this look from S2's Lost and Found - with and without the pretty coat. Lorelai looks so chic in a black turtleneck and I love her rocking the gams and knee-high boots. This outfit just screams late 90s classy cool girl to me.

I am a vow-renewal-dress defender. I mean... come on. The color is so so stunning on her and... awoooooga is putting it mildly.

Obsessed with the slutty suit set from the 2nd episode - I do a spit take on rewatches because it's so much shorter than anything else she ever wears lol

Lorelai wears this dress a couple times in S4 and even owns it in another colorway. Again, she's gorge in blue, it fits her like a glove, and looks surprisingly contemporary.

Also love this cute look from AYITL! I guess I just love when my girl gets out of the jeans and shows off those mile-long legs.

10. fave rory outfit

Rory's style is less my thing - I was a girl with a similar vibe at the time, so most of her fashion choices feel very mundane and dated to me - they're PERFECT for her though and I love how normal they are. I really do think this show nailed wardrobe so well - Rory dresses exactly the way a bookish girl who doesn't care too much about what she wears but still cares a little bit would dress. And she goes on the exact right hair and wardrobe journey along with her different eras, clearly being most influenced by Lorelai and Lane's cool trendy vibes when she was younger, then choosing more practical comfort during her off-time in the Chilton uniform years, experimenting a bit at Yale, then transforming into preppy money world as she falls in with Logan's crowd and her grandparents in S6-7.

Shout out of course to iconic big chunky sweater - iconic big chunky sweater we love you.

I love skirt + tights Rory - she has more of a grungy look in the first couple of episodes and then has a very cute east coast collegiate phase in S4 (before the preppy Logan phase takes over barf).

Honorable mention to this quirky S5 sweater!