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merrybloomwrites · 7 months ago

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I Feel the Earth Move

Summary: Y/N experiences her first earthquake and her long distance boyfriend, Spencer, needs to know she's alright.

Word Count: 665

AN: I put a post out the other day that showed there's interest in Spencer stories. And then I felt an earthquake for the first time and got inspired to write this. Just a little story to get into the swing of writing for Spencer.

CW: earthquake

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One of the first things you had talked to Spencer about when you started dating was your shared experiences with hurricanes. Bit of a random topic, but with him being from Florida and you being from New Jersey, it was something you had in common. He then told you about the couple of earthquakes he’d experienced since moving out to Los Angeles. A tiny part of you was slightly jealous, but mostly you were happy you live in a place where the ground stays still at all times.

You’ve been dating Spencer for ten months now, but unfortunately, you’ve been long distance the whole time. Being on opposite coasts with a three-hour time difference makes things more complicated, but you’re looking forward to the near future when you finally get to move out to California. You work as a teacher and just need to finish the current school year and then you’re on your way to Los Angeles. You even have a new job and apartment lined up. Spencer sends texts nearly every day counting down until you’ll finally live in the same city.

It's early April, and your school is on Spring Break. You spent the week catching up on things you had been putting off, like doctor’s appointments and deep cleaning your closets. But now it’s Friday, and your to-do list is done. You’re having a lazy morning at home, sitting and watching some new Smosh videos that you hadn’t gotten a chance to see yet.

Suddenly you hear the hallway door rattling. For a second you think it must be the wind, but then the floor starts to shake. Next thing you know everything is rattling. It only lasts a few seconds and leaves you just standing in the middle of your living room, wondering what the hell just happened.

You think that it might’ve been an earthquake, but that would be ridiculous. Because that doesn’t happen where you live.

But then your mom texts the family group chat asking if everyone felt that. Your brother, sister, and dad all text back saying they had. You do a quick google search and within minutes you find the confirmation that it was in fact an earthquake, so you share the link with your family.

The first person you want to tell is Spencer, but it’s not even 8 in the morning in California. You know he doesn’t need to be at work until later in the day and is likely still sleeping. You’ll wait a bit before texting him, so you don’t wake him up.

Twenty minutes later your phone starts ringing, and you’re surprised to see Spencer’s name pop up.

“Hey, what are you doing up so early?” You say as a greeting.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Of course I’m okay,” you reply.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the earthquake?”

“I was going to, I just wanted to wait a little while, so I wouldn’t wake you. How did you find out about it?”

“Like, eight different people from work texted me to ask if you lived where the earthquake happened. Y/N, you’re like, a mile from the epicenter. I needed to check that you’re alright.”

You’re overwhelmed with emotion at this, hearing how much he cares, and how worried he was about you.

“I’m okay Spencer, I promise. It wasn’t that bad. Honestly I was more confused than scared,” you reply.

“Well then we need to work on your survival instincts before you come to California,” he says, causing you both to laugh.

“Thank you for checking in on me,” you say.

“I’ll always make sure you’re safe,” he replies. Your heart melts again, and you can’t believe that he’s real. And that he’s really yours.

“I love you,” you say, unable to express your feelings at this moment in any other way.

“I love you too,” he replies, voice full of sincerity.

“Only 86 more days,” you state, giving him the countdown today.

“I can’t wait, baby.”

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AN: Thanks for reading! This is was just a little warm up to writing for Spencer. Please send me any requests you have for him! Also, please lmk if you'd like to be added to a taglist for all my Spencer stories!

#spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew

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sergeantbarnessdoll · 11 months ago

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Harry Potter » Bucky Barnes/Winter Soldier

December 11th

Pairings: Boyfriend!Bucky Barnes x Girlfriend!Reader

Summary: Y/N knows exactly what she’s getting Bucky for Christmas after overhearing his conversation with Steve and Sam.

Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, pet names (doll)

A/N: I don’t know much about Harry Potter. This is based off of what I heard on The Falcon and the Winter Soldier.

Written on my phone so sorry if there’s any mistakes or typos.

GIF IS NOT MINE! Credit goes to the creators. I found this one on Google.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

You were walking through the Avengers Compound, looking for Bucky to visit him at work. You frowned when you couldn’t find him. You heard voices when you got closer to the lounge room. You stopped before you got to the door and listened for a moment.

“Theres no such thing as witches.” Bucky says.

“I have to agree with Bucky.” Steve says.

“What about Doctor Strange?” Sam says.

“He’s a sorcerer.” Bucky says, squinting his eyes at him.

“A sorcerer without a hat!” Sam argues.

“Oh my god.” Bucky sighs. “Who are you gonna fight now? Gandolf?” He says.

“Wait, how do you know about Gandolf?” Sam asks.

“I read the Hobbit in 1937 when it first came out.” Bucky says.

“So you guys see my point?” Sam says.

“No we don’t.” Bucky says.

That’s when you walked in the room and their attention was on you. Bucky smiles and approaches you.

“Hey, doll.” Bucky kisses your lips. “What are you doing here?” He asks.

“I wanted to visit my handsome superhero boyfriend at work.” You smiled up at him. “By the way, is all you three talk about is Harry Potter when I’m not around?” You asked.

“How much did you hear?” He asks.

“Just enough to know that my 106 year old boyfriend is a nerd.” You giggled.

Sam bursted out laughing and Steve bit his bottom lip to keep himself from laughing.

“I don’t know why you two are laughing. You guys are nerds too.” You say making Bucky laugh.

You knew exactly what you’re going to get Bucky for Christmas now. The next day, you went to the nearest bookstore after Bucky left for work. You looked around the bookstore, looking for the books you’re getting Bucky.

“Is there something I can help you find?” An employee asks.

“Actually yes. I’m trying to find the Harry Potter books for my boyfriend. You say.

“They’re in the corner to the right. They’ll be on one of the middle shelves.” She smiles, pointing you in the right direction.

“Thank you.” You smiled.

“You’re welcome. Let me know if you need anything else.” She says before walking away.

You walked in the direction she pointed you in and looked through the middle shelves. You smiled when you finally found what you were looking for. You picked up the set of books from the shelf and went to checkout.

“Did you find everything you were looking for?” The cashier asks.

“Yes I did.” You say with a smile.

She scans the books and tells you the total. You paid and made your way to your favorite coffee shop to get something to drink before going home. When you got home, you were walking to yours and Bucky’s bedroom to wrap his Christmas present without noticing that Bucky was home.

“You’re not going to give me a hug and a kiss, doll?” Bucky says.

You yelped and quickly turned around, holding your hand over your chest.

“Bucky! When did you get home?” You asked.

“Like 15 minutes ago. I texted you saying that I was able to get off of work early so we can spend some time together.” He explains. “What’s in the bag?” He asks, reaching for it.

“That’s a surprise!” You move your hand further away. “You have to wait until Christmas.” You say, walking away.

Bucky tilted his head back and playfully groaned making you giggle. You went to the bedroom and locked the door behind you so Bucky didn’t try to come in and see you wrapping his present. You found some red and white striped wrapping paper and wrapped it with ease, topping it off with a silver bow. You put a tag on it saying “To Bucky my love, love your doll”. You sat there for a moment, debating on whether or not to give it to Bucky or wait until Christmas. “It wouldn’t hurt to give him an early Christmas present, right? Screw it.” You thought to yourself. You quickly cleaned up the little mess you made and grabbed the present, walking to the living room with it behind your back and sat down on the couch next to Bucky.

“I have something for you.” You say, handing him his present.

“What is it?” Bucky asks.

“Just open it and you’ll find out.” You say.

Bucky tore the wrapping paper off and a smile grew on his face.

“Do you like it?” You asked nervously.

“Like it? Doll, I love it!” He says, kissing your cheek.

“I’m happy that you love it.” You say with a smile.

“I haven’t read these since 1937.” He says, looking at the books.

“Maybe you can read one of them to me if you want.” You suggested.

“I’d like that.” Bucky says softly.

You cuddled yourself into Bucky’s side as he opened the book. About halfway through the book, Bucky noticed that you had fallen asleep. He bookmarked the page by folding the top corner. He picked you up bridal style and carried you to the bedroom, gently laying you on the bed and covered you up. Bucky got in bed next to you, pulling you to his side and wrapped his arms around you.

“Goodnight, doll. I love you.” Bucky says softly and kissed the top of your head.

“Goodnight, Bucky. I love you too.” You say sleepily.

❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️💚❤️

-Bucky’s Doll

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desmond69miles · 7 months ago

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An Artists Eye

I don't know why but every time I try to update a post it doesn't work until I do it three times?? Boo. This isn't exactly how I wanted it to turn out but I'm semi-happy with the finished work, soooooo have fun.

I'm working on a 'part-two' (it's more of a part one, it takes place before this). Not sure when it will be posted, but it'll be out sometime. (Read it here!)

Arno finds your sexual drawings and offers to live them out with you.

AO3 LINK

Warnings: Fluff and smut, Google translated French, oral (r receiving) fem!reader, vaginal sex/fingering, unprotected sex, creampie (I hate that word), grinding/dry humping.

Word count: 3,491. It's been awhile since I wrote something this long.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Three years ago, you had the pleasure of Arno knocking you over. The streets of Paris had been bustling one fall morning, and you were late to a client meeting, scuttling down the street with your sketches haphazardly secured in your arms. You weren't looking - or maybe you were but didn't process it in time - when a man walked straight into you. It was somewhat theatrical--your papers flew up as you fell down. The man immediately bent down to help collect your sketches while muttering apologies, but it was too late; a good majority of your work had fluttered straight into a muddy puddle you narrowly missed.

As the brunette picked up what papers were still preserved, you worked on dusting yourself off. Once the two of you stood, you finally looked at the man's face, one of his gloved hands moving to push his hood back. "Je suis vraiment désolé, madame," he said, "I'll buy you a new stack of sketching papers." You blinked at his offer - somewhat distracted by his handsome face - and politely rejected it. "Non, c'est bon. I wasn't looking where I was going." The man nodded and handed you back your work, dismissing himself with a slight nod and smile before disappearing back into the crowd. You stood there for a few seconds while people passed you, their shoulders occasionally bumping yours, and you moved to put the papers in your messenger bag.

A few days later, the man randomly arrived at your door around eleven at night. When you opened the door, you were no less than shocked - he actually brought you a new stack of sketch paper! Then you asked yourself, how did he find my house? "Bonsoir Madame," he said. His brown eyes danced over your face, the same you had done when he knocked you over, and he extended his hand with the cartridge paper that was wrapped in a thin cloth to keep from dirtying. You take it from him, and your mouth flubbed open in search of some words. Finally, you decided on nothing more than an awkward "Merci... May I get your name?" The man chuckled, "Arno Dorian, and yours, madame?" Arno repeated your name once you said it, nodding along in confirmation. He left after denying your offer for coffee with a goodnight, and after you returned to your sofa, you undid the covers to the paper.

A small card with a fancy gold trim sat on the stock. You turned it around and looked at the fancy swirls of writing--If you wish for more paper, run into me at Café Théâtre. You couldn't help the wide smile that formed on your face.

Now, it will be your and Arno's second anniversary in a day.

You sat in front of your easel that held up your latest work, and one of your hands mixed up a beautiful blue on the wooden pallet held by your other hand. It was seven-ish, the sun hazily setting in the dimming sky, and the warm air of summer blew through the open windows of Arno's chambers. The ambient buzz of crickets and the fuel of early nightlife gave way to your soft humming of a lullaby. Occasionally, you'd hear the claps from the Cafe down below, a recitation of Hamlet playing tonight, and you've seen the show so much that you found yourself rehearsing the lines to yourself every so often. Your fingers plucked through your paintbrush jar until you found a suitable one and began to paint the shading colors of Arno's coat. Shading was the last thing that needed to be done, an easy task that could be completed quickly.

Arno was indeed your favorite subject to draw. Often, when you found yourself unable to sleep, you sketched him while he was resting--or when you found yourself with free time, you drew his body's familiar lines and curves in practice. Sometimes, these anatomical figures found themselves in... precarious positions, such as in nude drawings. Those were your personal favorites, your sexual admiration for him going past just intercourse, but that sketchpad had been stowed away in the very back of your closet in a box. Hiding your drawings wasn't something you liked; you were proud of your work, and you didn't shy away from drawing nude bodies. In fact, Élise's favorite work of yours was of a sexually deviant nun she had nicknamed 'The Sin.' But, you always hesitated to show Arno the drawings and paintings you have done of him. Neither of you was sure why; you argued they weren't perfect, and Arno argued you were worried that he'd judge (in truth, you were a little more than embarrassed to show the numerous sexual positions you had put your lover and yourself in through pencil).

However, you decided to face that embarrassment with your second anniversary, hence your eagerness to finish this portrait of your lover. Hours had ticked by reasonably quickly, and soon enough, you heard the grandfather clock chime twelve times, indicating the strike of midnight. You pause to look over your final work and give a more than satisfied smile, grabbing the canvas sheet you had and covering the painting so Arno didn't see it (you also had to make sure he didn't peek; he seemed fond of doing that). Your hands had been stained with colors, and your apron had a few new splotches--you didn't mind, but you still hung up your apron carefully for washing and quickly scrubbed your hands clean.

With your hands a tad bit achy from the repeated holding of brushes, you stripped yourself of the painter's gown. You didn't even bother with a chemise or undergarments and instead grabbed one of Arno's button-up shirts that had a smear of purple paint. The mark was seemingly impossible to get out of the cotton, so he had unofficially gifted it to you, telling you that he'd wear it if you ever wanted to fling paint at him again. You grabbed one of the two pillows Arno claimed and tucked one between your thighs for comfort--the pillow usually replaced by his thigh. That, sadly, was the reality of being with an assassin; most nights, he wasn't around to fall asleep with. Thankfully, it seemed like you always woke up in his arms, your lover either sleeping soundly or admiring you.

You heard the chime of 12:30 on the grandfather clock before you shut your eyes for the night and fell asleep.

Awaking in the morning was a chore. The bed was so warm, cradling you like your mother did when you were a babe, and when you shuffled to get comfortable, an arm tightened around your waist. A knowing smirk cast onto your lips - Arno was back and pressed tightly to you. "Arno," you whisper, quiet enough so he could hear if he were awake. No response. Good, you hoped he was asleep - allowing you to get up and prepare your present for him.

So, carefully, to not wake him up, you moved Arno's arm from off of you and gingerly rolled out of bed, slowly standing up so as not to make the wood creak. Once your feet were planted on the cool floor, you stretched fully before walking away from the bed. Your easel still sat in the same position with the canvas sheet covering it; the oak stool pushed out to the side with a dirty jar of brushes resting on top of it. You noted that Arno had closed the windows and drawn the curtains, only slivers of sun peeking through. You first moved to open them just a tad so the chambers would be more illuminated--mainly so you wouldn't topple over something. Then, you moved over to your easel.

You took a deep breath and hoped that it looked okay after drying. Your hands gently took the cover off, and for the second time, you smiled proudly, hands clasped together. It wasn't alright; it was... almost perfect. Something was missing, and you couldn't put your finger on it. Then, it dinged in your brain. The drawing of us! You made your way back to the bed, but instead of getting in, you opened the dresser beside it and rummaged around until you found your trusted sketchbook. You flipped through it until you found the page already torn out and signed with a small love note. You paused, though, and your tummy did a flutter.

You forgot about this drawing. It was one of the first sexual ones you drew, a rather raunchy drawing of none other than Arno laid on his stomach, arms wrapped around a faceless woman's thighs and his face pressed to her cunt. This was still when you were too ashamed to draw yourself in these drawings - hence the faceless woman - but it made you fuzzy.

It wasn't like you and your boyfriend never had sex; quite the opposite. Many nights you had been spent on the bed, Arno deep inside you while some serious French kissing went on (not to mention the time when Arno's mentor had walked in on you deepthroating the brunette's cock in none other than the Assassin's base under Cafe Theatre, but you're too embarrassed to talk about it. You still get hot when you hear Bellec calling Arno 'pisspot'). While you've had amazing sex, you've never got the confidence to ask for oral. Arno offered it, but you said no; what if you taste bad or do something Arno doesn't like? The thought of a mouth down there always intimidated you, but that doesn't mean you haven't fantasized about it.

You were so caught up in staring at the drawing that you jumped when a loud crash came from outside, dropping the sketchbook onto the floor. "Merde," you almost immediately cussed, recoiling your foot from the damage of your toes being hit by the journal. It was enough to wake Arno up, and while you bent down to retrieve the book, he sat up and ran a hand through his hair. "Everything alright, cherie?" He said, and you were startled like you were caught doing something bad. "Oui, sorry to wake you." Arno gave you an understanding smile, sliding to the edge of the bed and leaning forward to find your waist. You tucked the sketchpad to your chest as he pulled you in for an embrace, his face resting between your shoulder blades.

"What were you drawing?" Arno muttered, and you tensed for a moment. "Sketches, love, it's nothing too important." You replied, and he hummed. "Everything is important when made by you." You didn't protest when his hand snaked from your hip up to your hands, his fingers grasping the edge of the book and pulling it free. His head moved back but still rested against you, and you heard him chuckle. Your face warmed, and for a moment, you willed the floor to open up and swallow you or for you to turn into a gnat and fly away.

"Is this woman you?" He asked, and you quietly said no. "Then you envision me eating another woman out?" You let out a defeated breath, shoulders slumping. "Non, it is me."

"But you did not draw your face?"

"It was awkward."

"Ah, then we should make it less awkward. Experiencing it may give you confidence."

Your head turns to peer at him from behind your shoulder. He has a cheeky grin that he knew he was doing - and you chewed your lips. "It's our anniversary, too. How will I marry you if I've never tasted you?" You blinked and chose to ignore the marriage comment, but as he pulled you into his lap, you knew you weren't getting out of this one too quickly. "I've heard from other women that it's relaxing if that quells your worry." One of his hands slides up your thigh and rests near the apex of your legs, thumb rubbing small circles into your flesh, and he kisses your cheek. You turn your body, legs swinging to rest on the bed and lean into Arno. He gives you a sweet look, brown eyes filled with what could only be described as love, and kisses your lips. He didn't get far once he pulled away; your hand brought him back in.

Your fingers undo the red ribbon, keeping Arno's hair tied while he bites your bottom lip teasingly. Once his hair was free and you could run your fingers through it, you allowed his tongue to slip past your lips and tangle with his. He tasted faintly of expensive red wine, and you drank the groan he let when your nails scratched his scalp. The hand resting on your thigh slid under the shirt you wore, warm fingertips running over your curves. Your noses bumped accidentally when you moved to tug on the buttons of his nightshirt, and neither of you went too far from the other. Your breaths still mingled as his hands aided yours in tugging his shirt off, the fabric falling onto the floor. Arno then moved both of you, so now you were lying against the pillows with your lover hovering above you. You exchange soft, loving smiles, eyes studying each other. Your hands ran down Arno's arms and rested against his wrists.

"Do you want to try oral?" He asked, genuinely curious, and you pondered. "Will you go slow?" You query, and you get your answer with the gentle, warming kiss Arno places against your forehead and then lips. His hands grab a pillow you are not resting on, and he says to lift your hips. You comply without question, and Arno slides the pillow under your butt, then moves your thighs apart so he can adequately slot himself in between them. The pillow gave a perfect angle for his hips to slot against yours, his semi-hard cock pressed into your inner thigh, and you could feel the wettening of your folds.

His lips find yours for a small kiss before he moves to your neck, sucking in a few light marks that can be hidden, and one of his hands trails down your body to your stomach, resting there patiently until you give the go-ahead. The attention placed on your pulse point made you let out a quiet whimper, and you circled your arms around Arno's shoulders so you could tug his body closer to yours. His bodily warmth was nothing short of what you called home, the south trail of his hand at your happy whisper of 'more,' the press of his thumb against your clit--it gave an almost sentimental feel.

There was loving, and then there was loving.

And he loved you like you loved him.

The way Arno loved you was nothing short of amazing? Spectacular? supercalifragilisticexpialidocious? There was no word for the way he treated you.

After slicking his fingers in your cunt, he pressed a final kiss to your lips before descending your body, leaving kisses every place he could reach. You shifted awkwardly once you two were positioned like the drawing--Arno on his stomach, his cheek pressed into your thigh, hands holding your legs apart. You did have to admit that it was an ego boost to see your lover between your legs with such a hungry look in his eyes. Arno pressed a kiss to where your thigh meets your leg, impossibly close to your cunt, and you felt his breath over your puffy clit. It caused you to shift your hips, a hand coming to rest on his, and Arno peeked up at you from his position.

Your insides became mush--there was absolutely no right for him to look heavenly, and you moaned as his index finger teased against your slit. "Do you want me to?" Arno asked, dipping his finger inside, teasingly curling in a way that he knew wouldn't feel terribly pleasurable. You debated--a new experience and most likely an intense orgasm, or you'll have to listen to your girlfriends rave about cunnilingus without knowing what to say next time you all met up. Most, if not all, your nerves of appearance had vanished and instead replaced by the anxious want of indulgence. Arno pushed his finger deeper, pulling back and repeating those actions slowly, awaiting your response.

"Mhm, oui. I'd like you to."

Arno smiled, and when he exhaled, you wiggled at the cool air against your warm cunt. "Merci," he hummed and leaned in, pressing his lips to your clit. Arno was gentle at first, careful not to overwhelm you. The rough pad of Arno's tongue pressed flat against your clit, and he let you move your hips, allowing you to draw your pleasure in what felt good. Once he thought that you had enough of a taste, his hands moved to your hips and pushed them down into the pillow. Your hands moved between Arno's resting ones or his head, moaning loudly when he sucked your clit with fervor. "Dieu," you exasperatedly said. Your thighs closed around Arno's head, not tight enough to hurt him but snug enough to keep him there, eyes closing when the tip of the pink muscle drew figure eights on your cunt. His finger slipped back in, this time pumping with a little more vigor, and when he curled them just right, that beautiful edge came into feel.

"S'il te plaît, oh mon Dieu, s'il te plaît," you whined and swore you could feel Arno smile into you. Your hips rocking against his face as well as your thighs clamped tight around his head, caused a slight burn from his stubble, but, shit, you couldn't care as long as he kept going. Arno's lips move up once again and slurp your clit, and "There, fuck! There, Arno, don't stop!" pours out from you. Another finger adds to your wet hole, and he gives a rough suckle just before you send hurdling over the crescendo of an orgasm. Arno lets you ride it out by grinding on his face, his nose bumping your clit in delicious aftershocks, and you eventually come down enough to release Arno's head from your thighs.

His head popped up from between your thighs, and he crawled up, bouncing down onto the bed beside you. One of Arno's hands rested on your stomach, and he asked, "How was it?" You gave a weak chuckle, "Le meilleur, fuck, the best."

"Another round?" He suggested.

"Always another round." You enforce.

Before Arno could move, you crawled on top of him and gently pushed your hips down so your saliva-and-slick-ridden cunt pressed perfectly against his hard cock. He gave that devilish smirk, hands finding your waist to push the nightshirt over your head, and you moaned as his hips met yours with equal enthusiasm. In more-or-less semi-clothed dance, you rocked against each other until Arno's hands slowed you, one going to slightly push you back just so he could free himself from his now wet undergarments. The fabric didn't get farther than his knees before you scooted back up and took him in your hand, running the head of his cock through your folds. After a few teasing passes, his tip catches your hole, and you slowly - yet easily - sink onto him. Once your lower half was pressed against his pelvis once more, Arno gave a few shallow thrusts and cupped one of your breasts, squeezing the soft flesh and playing with your nipple.

A few more seconds passed, and with a quick kiss to Arno's forehead, you tensed your thighs, hands pressing against his chest, and you began to set a steady rhythm of riding him. Your lover met your thrusts halfway with quick motions that effectively created a shlick shlick when either of you moved. The friction inside you felt good but just not enough to reach climax again, and Arno knowing this, moved his fingers to rub small circles against your clit. Arno cursed and rolled his head back onto the pillows. You watched his Adam’s apple bob with each thick swallow, and his thrusts became unsynced--a tale tail sign of impending orgasm.

With a few more messy thrusts, Arno pulled your hips flush to his and spilled deep inside of you. The warmth of his cum had made you unexpectedly orgasm, toes curling as you moaned. You stayed still and savored the moment, your spine failing to keep you upright, so you lay down on Arno's chest instead. Arno rolled over onto his side and took you with him, grabbing the closest blanket and covering you both up to keep from getting cold.

"Je t'aime," Arno whispers against your hair, and you softly hummed. "Je t'aime plus," you countered, but he won the battle with an "I love you the most."

"I peeked at the painting," he said after a peaceful silence, "I love it. You'll have to paint me nude next time."

#arno dorian x reader #Arno Dorian #Arno Dorian smut #assassins creed x reader #assassins creed smut #lynns posts

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somber-sapphic · 1 year ago

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hey lovey! could you possibly do 3 and 11A from the prompts for wandanat or marina? you choose!

I was thinking they work themselves too hard until they can’t deny they are unwell. Then they collapse and terrify their girlfriends, and fluffy sick comfort after ❤️

Perfect Partners

〖Notes: Hi sweet anon! I'm so sorry, this one slipped through the cracks I just found it in my drafts and finished it up. Please forgive my medical words, I am very much not a medical professional, my knowledge all comes from Grey's Anatomy and Google. I hope you enjoy! (for some reason my Station 19 fics always get long)〗

〖Summary: What you thought was a cold lands you in the hospital.〗

〖Word Count: 1.9k〗

〖Pairing: Marina x Sick Reader〗

〖Warnings: IV, hospital setting -not sure if this is a real warning but hospitals terrify me so I figured I'd add it in-〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You slammed your fists against the punching bag, breathing heavily through your mouth as cold rivulets of sweat rolled down your back. Every few breaths were punctuated by a cough, but there wasn’t much you could do about that.

Maya had invited you to the gym, and while you both normally preferred to work out separately, it was her way of mending the argument you’d had the night before.

It was one you’d had frequently, where you would yell about her dangerous career while she bit back about your boring one. Carina hadn’t been home to mediate, leaving the two of you to fight it out on your own.

The blonde asked you to come to the gym as her way of extending the olive branch, apologizing for the way she had spoken to you. Your acceptance was your way of doing the same. You loved her so much, even with the fights. She understood that they came from a place of fear, and both of you felt guilty every time.

The firefighter had been glancing over at you for about twenty minutes now as you moved from machine to machine, listening to your wheezy breaths and heavy coughs. Of course, she knew that it was time to go home, but she was worried about how to bring it up.

Maya knew that you had a habit of getting defensive when it came to your health—probably a side effect of living with a doctor and a paramedic—and didn’t want a repeat of last night. However, as the morning went on, the woman was beginning to realize that it was time to get you home and into bed.

You threw another punch and gasped, a sudden sharp pain in your chest. You doubled over a bit and started to cough, unable to contain it. Luckily, the two of you were early enough that the gym was mostly empty, but the two or three other patrons cast you a disgusted look; one even stepped off his machine to move to the other side of the room. You couldn’t blame him.

“Woah, okay, your complexion is scaring me. Please sit down.” Maya’s hand fell on your back, and she eased you onto the floor, not shying away from your very sweaty self. Nevertheless, she rubbed between your shoulder blades until you were able to regain your breath.

“Okay, come on. Let’s go shower, then I’ll take you home,” the blonde said, her voice soft but firm. You groaned softly and shook your head, moving to check the tape across your knuckles. It had slipped a bit, but there wasn’t any damage to your hands. You hadn’t done a great job of wrapping them; you had been too shaky.

“No, you’re not done with your workout. I’ll just maybe sit, do one of the leg machines so that you can finish,” you replied, your lips fumbling over the words. You were still struggling to catch your breath, the combination of the workout and the chest cold not working in your favor.

“We’re done. Shower at home or here?” She decided, bracing your elbows to hold you up. The medic knew that she wouldn’t be able to discern your temperature until you cooled down from the workout, but based on how you had looked this morning, she was guessing that you at least had a little fever.

Maya was wracking her brain, coming up with every instance over the last few days that you had seemed even the least bit off. During your argument the night before, you had started to cry, but it was a hard topic she didn’t think too much of. Now that she was looking back, though, she was able to name probably ten instances where you had acted out of the ordinary.

She should have noticed it earlier and was already beating herself up over it.

You shrugged, not really wanting to shower anywhere. You were tired and felt gross, and now that it was all up in the air, you kind of wanted just to go home.

The blonde caressed your cheek and kissed your sweaty forehead, grimacing at the sweat covering your skin. It wasn’t the grossest thing she’d seen that week; her job generally consisted of dirt, smoke, blood, sweat, and other fluids, but it wasn’t lovely either.

“Okay, let's get you rinsed off really quick, and then we can go home.” You didn't have the strength to argue, so you just let her lead you into the showers, grateful that she was willing to help you undress and get under the cool stream. You weren’t thrilled by the temperature, but she had set it that way for a reason.

The shower was quick, just a short rinse before you were out again and wrapped in a towel. Thankfully, the clothes you’d shoved into the bag for the post-workout were much more comfortable. They consisted of Carina’s oversized Grey + Sloan Memorial Hospital sweatshirt and your favorite pair of sweatpants.

The shower had made you cold, so you were doubly grateful for the warm clothes, which you snuggled into without any hesitation.

Maya smiled fondly and kissed the tip of your nose, making you sneeze. You pouted a bit and lifted your head from your sleeves, mildly annoyed by the damp spot left from where you’d wiped your nose.

“Ew,” The blonde chuckled, wrapping an arm around your waist. You leaned against her, not caring about the looks you got from a few store employees. It didn’t really matter anymore; you were going home.

When you arrived at the house that the three of you shared, you found it empty, a note left by Carina sitting on your counter. Maya deposited you on the couch before grabbing the note, sighing at the words scrawled in the brunette’s typically perfect handwriting. She didn't fit the stereotype of doctors' poor handwriting.

“Car was called in for some emergency surgery; looks like it’s just the two of us,” she said softly, walking around the counter to sit beside you. You scooted over to her and put your head on her chest, nuzzling into her sweater. It probably smelled like her, but your nose was too stuffy to smell anything.

You were only able to sit like that for a few minutes before you started to cough again, your breaths coming in harsh wheezes. Your chest was tight, and your lungs full of mucus.

Now that you were closer, Maya was getting even more concerned. Not only had your fever developed far too quickly for her liking, but she was also worried about your shallow, squeaky breaths.

“I’m going to get my bag. Stay put,” she ordered, not realizing that you wouldn’t be moving even if she asked, not without assistance at least.

The blonde raced through the house to find her medical bag, snagging it from the bedroom where she and Carina always kept them. When she returned, you were half asleep, drooling onto a pillow. Even with your pale gaunt face and red nose, she thought you were adorable.

Maya sat down beside you and pulled out her thermometer, which was quickly dragged across your forehead to reveal a temperature of 102.5. It wasn't drastically alarming, but it wasn't something that stemmed from a simple cold.

“Okay babe, sit up for me.” She coaxed, pulling you into a sitting position. You whined your displeasure, worrying the young woman. An hour ago, you had been working out, albeit not with any particular rigor or accuracy, and now you could barely hold your head up. This was an unexpectedly rapid decline, which was beginning to make her wonder if a hospital visit was in order.

The paramedic rested the stethoscope on your chest, listening to your crackling breaths with intense focus. She repeated the process on your back, shaking her head in mild frustration. When she leaned back, she hung the stethoscope around her neck, leaning forward to look into your eyes.

“I…I really don’t feel well.” You admitted, your voice barely audible.

“Looks like we’re going to visit Carina.” She said gently, earning a whimper from you. You had absolutely no interest in moving from your spot on the couch, but Maya had made it clear that you didn’t get a say in the matter.

“I know, but we don’t really have another option right now.”

It didn’t take long for you to find yourself lying on a cot in a hospital room, a bracelet around your wrist, an oxygen mask covering your face, and an IV in your arm. Most of it was a blur, but you certainly remembered a concerned Dr. April Kepner who had decided to take your case even after you were transferred to the hospital proper.

Now, you were curled up in a bed beside Maya, listening to whatever music she had decided to play on her phone. Carina had been updated on your condition and was supposed to be getting out of surgery in about an hour, but for now, you and Maya were making it work.

・.・✭・.・✭・.・✭・.・✭・.・

Carina rushed into your hospital room, devoid of her white coat. Her eyes were full of panic, which only diminished when she saw you smile.

“Cara mia.” She breathed, walking to sit beside you on the bed. There wasn't a whole lot of room with Maya lying beside you, but she managed. She carded her fingers through your hair and glanced at your monitor, watching the steady beep of your heartbeat.

“How bad are they?” the pediatric surgeon asked, keeping her voice quiet so as not to disturb you. You were sort of asleep, only slightly aware of what was going on around you. All you really knew was that the people you loved were beside you, bringing you immense comfort.

“When we got here, their O2 stats were in the 80s, temp 102.9. Kepner was in the pit; she did a chest x-ray. Looks like pneumonia. She has them on antibiotics and saline for hydration. The plan is to keep them overnight just to be safe and reevaluate in the morning,” Maya replied, mixing medical jargon with comforting her concerned girlfriend.

Carina let out a relieved sigh and smiled, leaning down to kiss your feverish forehead. You grabbed a fistful of her baby pink scrubs, not fully noticing what she was wearing. Even if you had, you didn’t care.

“Someone pushed themselves too hard, huh?” She murmured, settling down into the bed with you squished between herself and Maya. She didn’t even consider changing into real clothes; being with you mattered more.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like you had to come to the gym with me.” The blonde said into your hair, laying her head on Carina’s fingers. The surgeon continued to drag her nails against your scalp, and Maya wrapped your fingers in hers.

“S’okay.” You whispered, settling further into the bed. It wasn’t the most comfortable thing, but it was much better with your girlfriends there. You didn’t even care about the argument between you and Maya the night before; it was one you’d had before, and you’d probably have it again.

Regardless, you loved the woman, and you always would. Every so often, you were reminded of just how lucky you were to be with the two of them. A doctor and a firefighter, the perfect partners.

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bad268 · 1 year ago

Note

Liam lawson

but

I remember there one dtm video(red bull) being where alex and lily were in it and that was rlly cute

so hoow bout the reader coming to watch liam and they juts being cute throughout :)

Compilations (Liam Lawson X Reader)

Fandom: RPF/Formula 2/3

Requested: Clearly (bruh I strayed so far but I think this is cute too. I rewatched all of the DTM videos and I was like *compilation*), (italics are clips from the video)

Warnings: Language haha

Pronouns: I/me/they/them

W.C. 3428

Summary: Liam and his significant other take a trip down memory lane for a video.

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

~~(^Google/RedBull Content Pool)

It was two in the morning. My phone should not be ringing. Rolling over and answering it without looking at the ID, “Well, someone better be dying.”

“I’m dying,” the voice, who I was able to recognize as Liam, laughed on the other end. “Okay, I’m not dying.”

“Could’ve had me fooled,” I mumbled, burying my face into my pillow while keeping the phone to my ear. “Not that I’m upset that you called, well kind of actually, but what do you want?”

“Oh, do you not want me to call you?” He teased back.

“I do just not at two in the fucking morning, Liam,” I complained, “Especially when I had an alarm set at three for my flight. I’m not going back to sleep now, so I hope you’re happy with yourself.”

“I’ll keep you company,” He chuckled. “I was mainly calling because I wanted to make sure you were still coming this week.”

“You couldn’t have called me a couple of days ago?” I accused. I didn’t let him respond as I continued ranting, getting increasingly louder as I progressed. “Or yesterday? Or last night? Or fucking texted me because it is two in the morning?!”

“I mean, a reasonable time to call you would’ve been mid-day or something for me and I was doing car stuff,” He explained calmly, knowing that I was just moody because he woke me up too early. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” I grumbled, immediately switching the call to a FaceTime. “There, if you’re going to make me stay awake, the least you could do is let me look at you.”

“Glad you find my looks good enough to keep you awake,” He joked.

“Anyways,” I switched topics as I propped my phone up against the headboard, so I could use my hands to hold my head up, “I know you did not just call me to ask if I was still coming. What’s up?”

“Just wanted to make sure because the Red Bull media team wants us to do a video for YouTube,” He explained as he moved on his end to a corner of the trailer after being given the go-ahead to chill out until they went back to the hotel.

“But I’m not a driver?” I asked, confused as to why they would want me in the video.

“Never said you were, love,” He chuckled again. “They want us to react to some videos.”

“That makes me nervous,” I replied with a nervous laugh. “Do I get to know what videos?”

“I don’t even know,” Liam started.

“You are not going to break him that easily, Y/n!” Alex cut in from the background. Just then, Alex‘s head appears in the corner of the frame with an enthusiastic wave, “Hi, by the way.”

“Hello, Alex,” I giggled, waving back, “Do you know what we’re doing?”

“Do I look like I’m in Red Bull? No,” He laughed in response. “But hey, I need to steal your boyfriend. We need to do a final debrief before heading back to the hotel. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there tomorrow afternoon,” I said, shaking my head at his nonsense. “Do I at least get a moment to say goodbye to my boyfriend?”

“Don’t keep him too long,” Alex says, leaving the frame and walking away, “The faster we do the debrief, the faster we go to sleep!”

“Huh, funny how you guys get to have uninterrupted sleep tonight, and I’m here bickering back and forth with my boyfriend and his teammate at two in the fucking morning!” I said sarcastically before dissolving into shouts toward the end.

“There’s no way it’s still two there,” Liam quipped back.

“Ah, you’re right,” I replied sarcastically after I checked the time before yelling, “It is three in the fucking morning now!” I stopped, taking a deep breath and calming down before saying, “I need to finish packing. I leave for my flight in a couple of hours, and I need to get ready and take a shower. I’ll text you before I take off, not call you because I value your beauty sleep. You need it.”

“Hey!” He objected. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I love you, and I’m hanging up now,” I smiled into the camera, pretending to not see his shocked expression.

“This isn’t over, but I’ll let you go,” He said while pointing at the camera. He put his finger down and just smiled at the camera, “I love you too, call me when you land please?”

“Of course,” I reassured, “I’ll see you tomorrow. Wait, today technically. I’ll be there by dinner.”

“Good, I’ll take you out,” He responded.

“I don’t know if that’s supposed to be a threat or an invite, and I’m not sure if I want to stick around to find out,” I joked quickly before saying bye and hanging up just as fast.

Landing in Italy was crazy because of the time change. Initially, I thought I would land in the late afternoon/early evening time frame but due to the difference, I was already getting to the hotel before lunch. Part of me just wanted to pass out from jet lag, but the other half wanted to go to the track to see Liam. Come to find out, they had free practice, so I wouldn’t even be able to see Liam until afterward anyway. Thus, I just decided to chill out, nap, and unpack a few things while I had nothing else to do.

At around two, I got a text from Liam, asking me to meet him in the lobby, so we could do the mysterious video.

“Do you know anything now?” I asked as soon as I sat in the car.

“Well, hello to you too,” he joked, waiting for me to greet him, and when I did, he continued. “No, all I know is they want you and me to do it.”

“That is definitely not suspicious at all,” I replied sarcastically before we pulled up to the track. We walked hand-in-hand to the AF Course trailer where we would be filming, and they already had the cameras and lights set for us. “Do we get to know what we are reacting to, now?”

“Yes,” one of them laughed. “Fans have been sending us these compilation videos of you two around the paddock, so you’re both going to watch it. Make it cute.”

“Oh, no pressure there,” Liam jested, taking a seat on the couch while I follow to sit beside him. They signaled that the cameras were rolling and that we could start the intro at any point. I decided to let Liam take the lead from the beginning since I wasn’t a driver and wasn’t social media trained. “Hi guys, welcome to the Youtube channel. Today, we brought in my significant other, Y/n, and we are going to react to the compilations you sent us.”

“Yeah, what he said,” I contributed quietly, causing him to laugh at my shyness.

It was the first race of the DTM season. Everyone’s nerves were through the roof, but it seemed like Liam’s were through the stratosphere. It was a new season, in a new car, and it was with a new teammate. It was safe to say that he needed all the support he could get, so I decided to surprise him.

With a little help from the crew, I was able to get an extra key to his hotel room and sneak in while he was doing media. I decided I would make myself comfortable, taking one of Liam’s shirts out of his suitcase and changing into it before pulling out my laptop to get some work done while I had the time.

I had my music playing, and I was in a groove, getting a huge chunk of my essay drafted. I took a little dance break when I spun around, and immediately started screaming, not expecting Liam or a camera to be in front of me. “Hey! There’s this new thing! It’s called knocking!”

“Didn't think I needed to knock for my own room,” Liam responded in shock. He slowly approached me as I caught my break before he wrapped an arm around my waist and grabbed my hand. “What are you doing here? You said you have an essay due.”

“Surprise?” I said while shrugging my shoulders, ”I have wifi here, so it’s fine.”

“Happily surprised, yes” He chucked back.

~ “I remember that,” Liam laughed as he paused the video. “I didn’t even realize you were wearing my shirt until just now.”

“Wait, actually?” I looked over at him in confusion. “I thought that was the first thing you noticed.”

“No, the first thing I noticed was my significant other singing and dancing in my hotel room,” He deadpanned before sarcastically adding, “Forgive me for not noticing what you were wearing.”

“Oh, what’s next?” I joked, “You gonna tell me that you didn't notice I cut my hair there either?”

“You cut your hair?” He asked genuinely, rewinding the video to see your hair.

“Oh, brother,” I rolled my eyes.

This was a bad idea. The worst actually. Why and how did I let Liam convince me to get in the car with him? I already hate seeing him race at these high speeds. I did not need to experience it, yet here we are. And he is fucking laughing.

“Stop laughing at my pain,” I shouted at him as we took the corner faster than I would have liked. My arm shot out to grab him out reflex as I begged him to slow down. “Liam, my love, apple of my eye, future husband, please slow the fuck down. I’m going to die.”

He just laughs in response, slowing down slightly, but not enough to make me let go of his arm. “If I slow down too much, I’ll get a penalty.”

“What do you mean a penalty?” I shouted at him, “There’s no fucking race!”

“That you know of,” he joked, slowing down even more so he could let go of the steering wheel momentarily to pry my hands off his arm. Once he gets them off his bicep, he just holds one of my hands in his. “Here, you can hold my hand, and I’ll go slower.”

“Not on my watch, mister. You put that hand right back on the steering wheel,” I protested, pulling my hand from his and pushing it toward the steering wheel. He kept laughing at my outbursts while glancing over at me from time to time. “Keep those hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, and get me back to the garage pronto.”

“Damn, so bossy,” he chuckled, proceeding carefully around the circuit, “Y’know, the fans are gonna love this.”

“Well, I’m glad they find my pain amusing,” I groaned, throwing my head back. Liam just laughed in response before I lifted my head, making eye contact with the camera on the dash, “You know what guys, just for my pain, I’m gonna need you to like and subscribe to the channel. Like this is horrifying. I will never do this again, so the least you can do is like and subscribe. Please.”

“Shameless promo, we love to see it.”

“And I never did it again,” I smiled at the camera. “I don’t trust him anymore, actually.”

“Hey, I got you back safely, right?” Liam asked, leaning into my side as he wrapped his arms around my waist and laid his head on my shoulder. I turned my head to nod and place a kiss on his forehead. “I haven’t pressured you to do it again either.”

“Maybe I’ll let you do it at the next race,” I whispered to him.

“Really?” he perked up.

“Fuck no!” I exclaimed. “You scared me half to death last time. Why would I willing do it again?”

We were in the Hitech trailer with Juri, filming something for their Youtube channel. I was behind the camera just minding my own business while Liam and Juri were arguing, like always, about something I didn’t care to figure out.

“Y/n/n, tell him I’m right,” Liam complained, pulling my attention away from the book I was reading. I look up at them, seeing Juri shaking his head ‘no’ while Liam’s eyes are pleading with me to side with him.

“I think you two can settle this on your own,” I sighed, going back to my book.

“Aren’t you supposed to love me?” Liam groaned, sliding down the chair he was sitting in just to be dramatic. “How can you go against me like that?”

“You’re teammates. Work it out,” I pressed, pointing between the two.

“Alright everyone, it’s official,” Juri starts, looking straight into the camera, “Y/n and Liam are breaking up. Sorry guys.”

“Cool, I’m single now,” I jested, “I’m gonna call Oscar.”

“You better not!” Liam shouted running over to me, grabbing my phone and throwing it to the side.

“Way to go dumbass,” I grumbled, watching my phone shatter against the wall.

“I’ll buy you a new one, just don’t joke about that,” He whispered, pulling me into his chest.

“You know I would never leave you, definitely not with Oscar of all people,” I whispered back, playing with his hair. I decided to tease him even more, “You’ve got hotter friends.”

“Hey you’re messing it up,” He whined as he pulled away to fix his hair. “And I’m gonna pretend I didn't hear you just call my friends hot.”

“You’ll live. Now, finish filming because we are going to get a new phone today,” I said as I pushed him toward Juri.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Ew, don’t ever call me that again.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he responded as he turned away from me, walking to Juri before turning back around to face me once Juri burst out laughing at my glare. “Wait, sorry. Won’t happen again.”

“It better not, Lawson.”

“No, not Lawson,” He whispered with a light chuckle, hanging his head to hide his smile.

“They resorted to your last name,” Juri wheezed but I didn’t hear either of them, “you’re in the doghouse.”

I wiped tears away from my eyes from how hard I was laughing, “You guys actually said that? I couldn’t even hear you!”

“Clearly the microphones did,” He laughed at my reaction. “Did you ever end up finishing that book?”

“I don’t think so,” I responded after a second of thinking. “I don’t even remember what book that was, to be honest. I was more focused on my shattered phone.”

“I said I was sorry!” He defended.

“Sorry doesn’t bring back my phone!” I retorted.

“I bought you a new one!”

“But my old one was red. This one is silver,” I complained with a pout.

“There’s a red case on it!”

“Doesn’t mean it’s the same.”

“You are unbelievable,” He rolled his eyes, jokingly before looking straight into the camera, “I can never win.”

“Nope,” I smiled as I popped the ‘p’ and moved to press play on the video, “Now, onto the next clip!”

Wet races always gave me anxiety, but they seemed to bring a lot of excitement among the drivers. Originally, it was only expected to rain lightly for the last couple of laps, but that was thrown out the window when the first drops started falling on lap 23 of 28 and the downpour began on lap 26. It felt and looked horrible, yet the stewards did not red-flag the race.

I couldn’t even watch the last laps. Last I checked, Liam was leading with Oscar right behind him, but the rain was making it difficult to see who was winning. It wasn’t until the team started cheering that I was able to let out a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Juri had an engine problem earlier in the race, so I knew that Liam finished the race safely.

Completely disregarding the torrential downpour, I ran out of the garage toward parc ferme where Liam had just parked his car and jumped out. I didn’t give him much of a chance to regain his surroundings before I jumped into his arms, hiding my face in his neck as I wrapped my legs around his torso and his arms held me close. I couldn’t stop the tears from collecting in my eyes, but no one could tell due to the rain.

“You did amazing, Liam,” I whispered after I pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. “I’m so proud of you.”

“I thought you hated PDA,” he chuckled as he leaned his forehead against mine. “For once, I didn’t initiate this.”

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“That was our first public kiss,” I laughed, facing Liam who was still leaning on my shoulder. I leaned forward to place a light kiss on his lips then. “Now, I have no problem with kissing you in front of the cameras.”

“You were a lot more shy back then,” He pointed out, moving to kiss all around my face.

“You say that like it was so long ago. It was maybe a year or two ago,” I giggled, pulling away slightly.

“Actually, that clip was almost three years ago now,” one of the team members spoke up, making us remember that we were not alone.

“You’re kidding!” We both exclaimed.

“Wait, that actually makes sense,” Liam says after a moment of thought, “We’ve been together for almost four years now.”

“God, that makes me feel old,” I sighed.

“Old? We’re 21!”

“And your point?”

“You should be out celebrating your birthday,” I cried into Liam’s chest as we laid in his hotel bed. Liam had to travel to the Red Bull factory during the off-season for simulator work, and he brought me with him since it was over his birthday weekend. However, a bug had been going around the factory, and I was its latest victim. So much for celebrating his 21st. “You don’t need to take care of me.”

“What if I want to?” He comforted me, rubbing up and down my back in an attempt to calm me down. “Spending the day cuddling with you in bed doesn’t seem too bad.”

“But you’ll get sick,” I complained. “Then Christian will get made cuz you can’t do the simulator, and you’ll be upset cuz you’re a baby when you’re sick-”

“I am not,” He cut me off, offended.

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“Are not,” I replied quickly before realizing what he did and immediately backtracked. “No, you can’t do that. My brain is running at 900 ping right now.”

“Nope, you admitted I’m not a baby when I’m sick. Which I’m not,” He pointed out as he pulled back a little to check my fever, feeling no change since the last time he checked. “Why don’t we just chill out and watch a movie?”

“That sounds fun,” I mumbled, moving around to get comfy again as Liam laid back on the pillows. “But you pick the movie, birthday boy.”

“Oh, I was already planning on it,” He chuckled, smoothing out my hair that was all over the place. “I don’t think you’ll last 30 minutes.”

“That’s offensive,” I pouted, burying my face in his chest. I was going to complain more before a yawn cut me off, “Ok, you might be right.”

“Of course I am,” He joked lightly. My eyes were already shutting when he looked down at me, kissing my forehead one last time and pulling me in tighter as I fell asleep. “Sleep well, my love.”

“I didn’t even know this was recorded,” I said, eyeing the team that stood behind the camera. Conveniently, none of them made eye contact with me. “Huh, wonder how that happened.”

“You have to admit, we’re pretty cute though,” Liam chuckled.

“I wasn’t saying we weren’t,” I argued back. “We are always cute. I mean have you seen us?”

“I think this is a good place to end the video,” He laughed. “This has been my significant other and I reacting to compilations of us.”

“If you want to see more of me, like, comment, and subscribe,” I plugged. Liam and the crew started laughing as I once again promoted the channel. “Maybe I’ll come back for a part two of this.”

“That would be interesting,” Liam said, pointing at the camera. “Anyways, see you next time!”

“Bye!” We said in sync as we waved to the camera.

~~~~~

#liam lawson x reader #liam lawson #formula 2 #formula 1 #f1 #f2 #formula 3 #f3 #hitech grand prix #liam x reader #bad268 #ship268 #thing268

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e-dubbc11 · 1 year ago

Text

Out of Left Field

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, a tiny bit of violence but not really, drunk fan, a couple swear words, fluffy bunnies and unicorns

Word Count: 1.8k-ish

Summary: You’re attending a baseball game with a friend and you weren’t expecting to meet a tall handsome stranger.

A/N: This is part of the Thirsty for Cox writing challenge for the month of June. The prompt was “Hey, is that guy bothering you?” It was difficult to NOT set this one at a bar because let’s be honest, that’s the most likely place someone would use that line, amirite? 🤣 Anyway, I hope you like it! 💕

As always, thank you for reading! I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

“These are great seats! How did you score these?” Your friend Jackie, asked.

When your stepfather said he had four tickets to the Yankee game this weekend, you jumped at the chance to go.

It was the beginning of June, sunny with a few fluffy white clouds slowly moving across the bright blue sky and thankfully the hot summer weather hadn’t arrived yet so it was still just warm and dry.

A perfect day for baseball.

Sitting on the first base line, you’ve never been this close before. The warm early afternoon sun kissed the high points of your face as you took in the view.

You were only three rows back from the on-deck circle and could smell the sunscreen the players had on as they waited for their turn at-bat.

“A client gave them to my stepfather and he couldn’t go so he offered them to me. We have these four seats so we don’t have to worry about anyone sitting next to us.” You told her.

Suddenly, you felt a pinch in your side.

“OW!! What did you do that for?!” You yelled and glared at her.

“Oh I didn’t pinch you that hard, listen…really hot guy checking YOU out. Your four o’clock. Don’t look yet.” She said.

Waiting a couple of minutes before turning around, you looked over your shoulder and there he was…a baseball hat covered his dark brown hair, he had a short well-groomed beard, eyes as dark as the night sky and a smile that would stop anyone dead in their tracks.

“Jackie, are you sure he was looking at me? Because he has to be the most handsome man I’ve ever seen in real life. Every woman in this area is looking at him.” You whispered to her.

She started to chuckle at little. “Well he sure as shit wasn’t lookin’ at me, I’m married anyway and he wasn’t looking at ANY of those other women, he was only lookin’ at YOU.”

Another inning went by and it was time for another beer so you stood up and headed for the concession stands. Walking up the stairs, you phone vibrated in your back pocket. It was a text from Jackie that said:

Hot guy is following you up the stairs, YAY!!

You couldn’t help but laugh a little and shake your head as you put your phone back in your pocket. And now that you knew he was a few steps behind you, it wasn’t the sun that was making you feel warm anymore. Another text came in:

You look really cute today, relax!!

She knew you all too well. She knew you were shy and easily flustered so that was a text pep talk to calm you down a little.

Standing in line, you could feel him behind you, watching you but almost in a protective way. You noticed there were a lot of people around that had already had a few too many, one of them being directly behind you. Swaying in place, and looking like he was about to fall over at any moment, the man spoke to you.

“Y-you look like you wanna buy me a beer! You are a p-pretty thing, aren’t ya.” He slurred.

The man took you by surprise, yelling in your ear like he did, but you tried to be as nice as possible.

“You sure you need another one? You look like you’ve had enough already.” You said with an uncomfortable smile.

The man tried to move closer to you but you stepped to the side a little.

“W-well I w-want you to b-buy me another!” He said, putting his hand on your shoulder.

And that’s when your tall handsome stranger stepped in.

“Hey, is that guy bothering you?” He asked, trying to get in between you and the drunk.

Looking a little nervous, you nodded.

His eyes looked darker than they were when you saw them before, his lips were pulled back to expose clenched teeth, and the heated glare he gave the man was filled with rage.

“Take your hand off of her…now.” He said with a low growl.

The man grabbed your shirt at the shoulder and gripped it tightly in between his fingers. “This doesn’t concern you, pretty boy. This is between me and her.”

And with those words he shoved you backwards into a person carrying two cups of beer that ended up splashed down your back and caused you to fall to the ground.

What happened next, happened so fast that you missed it but looking up after hitting the ground, your admirer suddenly had the drunk man pinned to ground face down when security came running over to take him away.

The handsome stranger rushed to your side and gently placed his hand on your shoulder.

“Are you ok, miss?” He asked, looking you over to make sure you weren’t hurt.

“Well…I have beer all over me but other than that, I guess I’m fine.” You answered.

He laughed a little and continued to smile that perfect smile at you.

“Well this is not how I wanted to introduce myself but HI…Billy Russo.” He said in a slightly sarcastic tone and extending his arm for you to shake his hand.

You gave him a warm smile. “Well it’s nice to meet you, Billy Russo. I’m y/n. Thank you for what you did, I’ve never really had anyone come to my rescue before.”

He gave you his hand for you to take and helped you to your feet.

“Well I’m just glad I was the one to rescue you. Come on, let’s go buy you some dry clothes.” He said.

A little embarrassed, you told him you only brought enough cash with you for beer, the rest of your money was with your purse, at your seat. He said it was on him and he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“What? No Billy, I can’t ask you to do that. They charge a small fortune for all this stuff.” You said.

Billy winked and smiled at you. “You didn’t ask, sweetheart. I offered.” His slight New York accent coming through. “This way…”

He was so handsome and charming. It was hard to say no, so you didn’t and he led you to a shop to get some dry clothes.

You picked out a new DiMaggio t-shirt since your other one was soaked with beer and a pair of joggers, you were thankful that your socks and sneakers didn’t get wet. Billy had the same t-shirt on.

“At least this one doesn’t smell like beer.” You laughed. “What do ya think?” You asked with a smile and a 360 turn.

Leaning against a rack of clothes, he smiled back at you. “I think you look perfect.”

You felt yourself start to blush. “Thank you for this, Billy. You really didn’t have to. Can I take you dinner, as a thank you?” You asked him.

“Hey that’s my line.” He said with a sly smile as he inched closer to you.

Looking up at him through your dark lashes, you could not take your eyes off of him and he couldn’t take his eyes off of you. It suddenly felt like it was a thousand degrees inside the store.

“Tell ya what…let me take you to dinner and you can buy me a beer on the way back to our seats. How does that sound?” He asked.

You extended your hand for him to shake it. “You got yourself a deal, Mr. Russo.”

On the way back to your seats, you bought four beers. Billy’s friend Frank needed one as well and when you got back to your seats, Frank was sitting with Jackie, and they were showing each other pictures of their kids.

“FINALLY! I’ve been dyin’ of thirst down here.” Jackie said. “Ummm, why are you wearing different clothes? What have you two been doing?” She asked with a wink.

“It’s a long story, I’ll tell ya in a minute.” You said.

You smiled and extended your hand to Frank. “Hi, I’m y/n.”

Frank firmly shook your hand. “Frank Castle. Nice to meet ya.” He said with a smirk.

You handed him his beer. “It’s nice to meet you too, Frank.”

Looking at Jackie, you introduced her to Billy. Her response made you crack a smile.

“Oh I’ve heard a lot about Billy from this guy over here.” She said, pointing at Frank.

The four of you enjoyed the rest of the game together, sharing peanuts, drinking beer, and singing Take Me Out to the Ball Game.

Billy told you he and Frank were in the Marines together but now Billy owns his own private security company and Frank works closely with him.

As the game went on, Billy snaked his arm around you and draped it over your shoulder. Goosebumps peppered across the exposed skin on your arm as he lightly brushed it with his long slender fingers.

You could feel him stealing glances at you when you’d lean over to talk to Frank or Jackie, or rubbing your back before he’d get up to use the restroom or if it was his turn to make a beer or snack run.

These little gestures caused your ears to turn red and gave you butterflies in your stomach. You were already smitten with him.

After the game was over, you were chatting with Billy outside the stadium when you heard Jackie’s voice.

“So are you guys goin’ out on a date or what?” She asked, very directly. “You two look pretty cozy already.” She said, looking at Billy’s arm snaked around your waist.

You smiled nervously at her before looking at Billy then turning back to Jackie. “Uh, yeah. Billy wants to take me to dinner.”

She looked at you, then at Billy, smiled and whispered in your ear. “I have a good feeling about him.”

“I do too.” You whispered back.

You bit down on your lower lip and looked up at Billy. He gave you a little wink as he took your hand in his and kissed the back of it. “I’ll call you later, sweetheart.”

“I look forward to it, Mr. Russo.” You said with a smile.

He leaned forward and feeling his warm breath against your ear, Billy whispered. “Ya know it drives me absolutely crazy when you call me that.” And he planted a light kiss on your cheek.

“Well, I’ll have to remember that.” You said with a slight smirk. “I’ll see you soon, Billy.”

Billy took one last look at you as you walked away from him. You could feel his eyes on you just like earlier waiting in line, watching over you and making sure you were safe. Once you were out of sight, Frank turned to Billy and said.

“I have a good feeling about that one, Bill.”

Billy smiled as he quickly glanced at the ground and back up to look back at Frank and said.

“I do too, Frankie. I do too.”

Tag List: @mindidjarin @saintmurd0ck @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @xdervyxccgh @mattmurdocksscars @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialams @idek-what-to-put @anastasianeedstoread @ratsys @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @simple-lovebot @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend

If you’d like to be added to (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #billy russo #billy russo fluff #thirsty for cox June challenge #tfc writing challenge

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nothingenoughao3 · 3 months ago

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Hello, I read your fic Dreams in the Necromancer House and just wanted to say I'm really enjoying it. The images are so vivid, I don't know how you do it. And so I was wondering if I could ask where did you get your inspiration from. As in, if you add references about certain books or history or traditions where do you find them? Wikipedia? I'm just curious about how to do research. Specifically the tag that says Lovecraftian cults, tbh I have no clue about the H.P.Lovecraft universe. I just think it's really interesting.

Also, I am probably going to read it again because I'm sure I've missed out on some details. Anyways, have a nice day.

Hey, thank you for the thoughtful ask! This is the sort of question writers dream about receiving.

Here is the not-so-secret and not-so-glamorous process for how I compile references for my works (not just this one--this L4D2 series took a LOT of research, and so did that one SuperBat fic).

For me, the earliest creative process is kaleidoscopic: I'll have multiple scenes that don't seem like they all fit together spinning around in my head, and "the plot" is what happens when I try to make them all line up and become one coherent thing. Usually, there are the Scenes Of Pure Inspiration which arrive out of nowhere, followed by the Scenes Of Pure Necessity that have to happen to support the Pure Inspiration, and then one or two Scenes Of Damn Wouldn't That Be Cool that come up as I play different scenarios out in my head. Once it's over, I'll probably discuss the Scenes Of Pure Inspiration from "Dreams" more in detail.

Then I start doing outlines. Yes, I construct outlines for my fanfics, just as I do for my original works. There are far too many tiny moving parts in a story for them not to be contained in an outline--even if you move them to a different spot later, the damn things'll get lost in the sofa cushions if you don't keep them in a container of some kind. (I hope this metaphor hasn't gotten away from me.)

Dreams has three outlines--the one I wrote while still generating ideas, the one I wrote to establish timelines more firmly, and then an annotated one that has all the references I've sprinkled throughout the story. So I do consider this to be a vital part of the process. There will be a fourth notation file I generate when I do my final editing pass after it's all published, too! That one will cover me stating stuff about character histories and little story details, so that (for an example that really happened) I don't have Armitage giving a flask of whiskey to Herbert which later turns into a flask of Everclear.

Now where does the research bit come in? For me, when I do my extremely-detailed outline or when I start writing.

For details regarding history, science, politics, and the like, I generally rely on Googling, same as anyone else (excluding results after the year 2021 if I'm not finding what I need). Better than this, though, is books. I used to collect books that were writers' references--one of my favorites was a guide to poisons, both "the most likely poisons used in a murder mystery" AND "how to design your own poison/toxin/venom". Also guidebooks for TTRPGs, sacred texts, gardening guides, etc. I currently have a book series called "The Home Doctor" that teaches you how to do baseline veterinary and human medicine (according to the early 1900s). I don't have that because I plan on using it for its intended purpose, but I did use it to research a L4D2 fic where someone's leg gets amputated--and I even had the characters in the fic owning those same books!

What really matters for a story like Dreams, though, is thematic feel. I think folks will forgive me if I were to mention a musical band that didn't exist in 1987/8, but far less so if I didn't nail the feel of 1987/8, or of cosmic horror. So while I am writing a story, I immerse not only in the source material (if it's a fanfic), but also in music, movies, books, comics, and etc. that "feel right". I'll draw off those media for further inspiration, because let's face it, creativity is knowing what to steal and how to steal it. (I didn't say that--Tarantino did.)

The key here is that I don't stop interacting with research and creative works when I'm not writing. I'll flip through my books or go down a rabbit hole of "what the hell is THAT scientific concept about" or learn about magical rituals every day that I can. If the compilation of research material looks easy or fast when I do it, it's because I'm always doing it and I know how to narrow it down!

For Dreams, I could go "Oh, here's a list of all the stories and movies and etc. I want to build off of" because I already had all of those things in my mental wheelhouses. If you wanted it, here is a specific list of the actual non-Lovecraftian works that thematically support and inspire Dreams in the Necromancer House:

Prince of Darkness (1987)+

Hereditary (2018)*

The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals (2019)

Stir of Echoes (1999)

Mandy (2018)

Skeleton Crew, Nightmares and Dreamscapes, and Everything's Eventual by Stephen King: specifically, "Nona", "1408", "Mrs. Todd's Shortcut", "Gramma"+, "Autopsy Room Four", and "That Feeling, You Can Only Say What It Is In French"

Black Butterflies and Heatseeker by John Shirley: specifically "Cram", "Tahiti In Terms of Squares", "The Almost Empty Rooms", "Woodgrains"

The King in Yellow by Robert Chalmers

Twin Peaks

Music: "We Will Commit Wolf Murder" by of Montreal, "Leather Jacket" by Ben Folds Five, "It Must Have Been Love" by Roxette, "Over & Over" by Rio Romeo, "No One's Around To Help" by JerryTerry

The Arkham Horror board game

"The Mysterious Stranger/An Angel Named Satan" from The Adventures of Mark Twain

And since you were asking about Lovecraft's universe, here are the stories that went into this particular tale. All of his stuff is treated as being in the public domain, so you can easily find it on sites like Project Gutenberg or wikis:

"The Case of Charles Dexter Ward"+

"The Thing on the Doorstep"+

"The Dunwich Horror"+

"The Colour Out of Space", as well as the film adaptation Color Out of Space (2019)

"Pickman's Model"

"The Call of Cthulhu"*

"The Shadow Over Innsmouth"*

And of course, "Dreams in the Witch-House"+

The ones marked with an * are the most detailed stories regarding what I mean by "Lovecraftian cults", and the ones with a + are good demonstrations of wizardry/magic systems that supported this work.

#ask box is always open #ask box #asked and answered #dreams in the necromancer house #fanfic meta #writing meta #writing fanfiction #ao3 writer #ao3 author #thanks for asking!#reanimator fanfic

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adriellej · 5 months ago

Text

All I am is yours

Warnings: None really, except maybe a little description of being at a NICU in Denmark, don’t know if that could be upsetting for someone.

Pairings: Harry x Tess, besides that, none, just Harry appreciating his little daughter

Word Count: 1,1K+

A/N: Thanks to Sara I had this idea! I work at a NICU as a nurse, and honestly, I love it even when it’s tough to see them with all the tubes and cords attached to them.

GIF found on Google, all credit to the owner!

A little explanation on the medical words I use, and what we do for the babies.

Feeding tubes: they all get feeding tubes because they are not strong enough to eat on their own. It goes through the nose and down into the stomach. They eat every 2-3 hours. We teach the parents to be able to give them food on their own during the day and evening - we take the night shift.

CPAP: CPAP is short for a continuous positive air pressure machine. It’s connected to them through their nose, they have them on at all times, except for when we move them around sometimes. It unfolds their lungs by putting constant pressure into the lungs. They don’t necessarily all get this, but a lot of them do.

Electrodes and Pulse Oximeter: The electrodes are three cords that we put on their chests in order to see their heart rate, it’s essentially a simplified EKG. A Pulse Oximeter is a cord that we wrap around one of their feet or hands. It measures the amount of oxygen (saturation) in their blood, and it can also measure the heart rate - therefore pulse.

Skin to skin: So we don’t pick up premature babies like we do mature ones when they get upset. Usually not until they’re week 33-34, so we mostly put a heavy hand on them, to make it seem like they are still in the womb, it gives them comfort. We do condone skin to skin though! This part is very important to also give them comfort, get to know their parents, and help them grow and stay warm. They are also wrapped closely to give comfort.

I think that’s it, sorry it got a little long, I just wanted to make it a little easier for you to understand my work and what I’m talking about in this little piece.

---------------

Harry had barely slept for the past few days. The noise from the machines, the alarms going off, and the constant disturbance of people in their room kept him up. Tess was getting all the rest she could. She had just given birth to their beautiful daughter. The only thing was that Jesse decided to come out a little too early and be born prematurely - which caused them to be stuck in the hospital.

He looked down at his daughter, the tubes and cords were making her seem even smaller than she already was. He put one of his hands over her tiny body, feeling her chest rise and fall. She stirred a little and stretched her arm up in the air, only for it to land on her cheek grabbing at the CPAP machine connected to her. A big smile slowly grew on Harry’s face as he took all of Jesse in. He wanted nothing more than to pick her up in his arms and hold her close, but he had to settle for a hand on her body.

“You are my everything, Jesse Quick,” His heart fluttered at the sight of her. “All I am is yours to keep from now and till forever,” He smiled down at her. He looked over to his wife, who was using the time Jesse slept, to sleep on her own. She was sleeping so soundly, and Harry was overwhelmed with joy. He had so many feelings inside of him, so much love for these two. It was hard for him to contain himself, and it was hard for him to express himself, but Tess knew him. She knew how he felt, even when he didn’t.

There was a knock at the door prying his eyes away from his wife and daughter.

“Oh, Harrison you are awake,” The nurse smiled at him as she walked over to them. “Last time I popped my head in you were all sound asleep,” She laughed and Harry gave her a smile back.

“Yeah, her monitor started beeping. It woke me and I had to check on her and make sure she was okay,” He responded as a yawn threatened to break free.

“Have you slept much during the night?” She asked as she started to unpack Jesse to take her temperature. Harry had become fond of their nurse. She had been there from the beginning and was in the delivery room when Jesse was born.

“Not really,” He said, and the yawn he tried to hold back escaped. His body decided to emphasize he didn’t sleep at all. “But it’s okay Lily,” He continued quickly after seeing their nurse’s expression taken over by concern.

“You do need your sleep, but now that you’re awake, do you want to change her and lay with her while she eats?” Lily asked as the thermometer started beeping. “She could use the warmth, she’s a little bit cold,” She continued as she looked at the temperature.

“Yes, I would love to,” Harry quickly answered. He’d always choose time with Jesse over sleep. He could sleep when he got old. Lily stepped aside to let Harry take place before Jesse’s bed. He fumbled a little bit with the diaper, it was all so new to him.

“Okay, so the diaper under her before you open the old and toss it,” Lily gave him a reassuring smile. “We wouldn’t want there to be a mess so we have to change the entire bed,” She laughed lowly, causing a chuckle to escape Harry’s lips. He lifted Jesse’s tiny body from under her hip to put the diaper under her. He took the small squares of cloth to clean her from the poop she had made. “Good, now if you lightly dap at her bottom you can close the diaper,” She guided him and he did as he was told.

“Very good Harrison, you’re slowly getting the hang of it,” She praised him for his work. Harry felt foolish for not being better at it, and even more foolish for being so happy from her praise. He was a genius with 7 PhDs, but changing a diaper was difficult. “Now if you take your shirt off and get settled in the bed, I’ll get her ready for you,” She gave him a big smile and Harry pulled his shirt over his head.

He laid down in the bed and put some pillows under his arms, as Lily was starting to take Jesse off the monitor so she could move her a little easier.

“I’m thinking we lay her on her stomach on you, helps her breathe a little easier and gives her more warmth from you,” Lily informed Harry as she moved Jesse towards Harry. Jesse was starting to get upset and made a bunch of noises. She slowly turned Jesse to lay on her side on Harry, laying her right cheek on his chest, before she turned her body to lay on her stomach. Her legs were curled up under her, and she quickly calmed down as she breathed calmly on his chest.

“She’s starting to know your scent, and you for that matter,” She continued and gained a goofy smile from Harry. Lily started to swaddle Jesse with small blankets and a rolled-up cushion under her feet. “I know you’ll get really warm from this, but it’s the best to do for her,” She continued to inform Harry of what she was doing. It gave him a sense of understanding, why she did what she did for Jesse. “May I?” Lily gestured to take Harrison’s hand in hers to guide it over Jesse’s body.

“Of course,” He smiled and let her.

“The weight of your hand will give her some extra comfort,” Harry’s hand covered Jesse’s entire body, and he was yet again reminded how small she was. Lily put on the syringe that fit her feeding tube and checked for air in her stomach before pouring milk into the syringe. “Here you go, just call for me when you’re done,” She gave him the syringe in his free hand and left the room.

Harry looked down on Jesse. Her lips were a little pursed from her cheek being squished by his chest. He could clearly hear her breathing from the machine.

“I can’t wait to see you properly Jesse,” He sighed as he gave her something to eat. She started to lick into the air, her tongue popping out once in a while, causing him to chuckle at the adorable girl. He looked over at Tess, who was still sound asleep. “I can’t believe we made such a beautiful miracle, my love,” His hand leaned over to Tess’ hand and he squeezed it.

“You’re going to love your mom. She’s quite amazing, caring and so very loving,” He whispered. “But you Jesse Quick, you are one of a kind,” A tear formed in the corner of his eye, his life was truly complete.

Tag list:

@hiddenwritingsintheworld, @sarawritestories, @brianllamawrites

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frostironfudge · 2 years ago

Text

107 - Bucky Barnes

Summary: based on @marveldude506 's request: "Hey, idk if ur doing requests but could u do a bucky x reader where yn wears wigs cause she has short hair and she feels insecure about but she doesent want to grow it out, anyway, yn does motocross but no one knows except bucky but yn doesn't know that he knows and she goes to tournaments and she gets injured and bucky freaks out he pulls her helmet off to see if she's hurt and he sees her short hair and yeah...."

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Motocross!Female!Reader

Divider: @firefly-graphics || Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: insecure reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, motocross accident, minor injury, emergency room, doctors, worried bucky, protective bucky.

A.N: i dont know anything about motocross i googled it for accuracy, hope you enjoy reading! thank you for sending in this request!!

Main Masterlist || AO3

When you lay on his chest upon instinct his hand moves to caress over your head. You try not to tense up. Bucky picks up on the littlest of things. The smallest changes which he catalogues.

Your breathing even, heartbeat steady, his hand moves over the hair. You sigh, shifting closer. A soft rumble of his laughter echoes against your chest. The images of the movie flicker across the screen.

Part of you wonders how his fingertips would actually feel, leaving soft caresses over your scalp. Would he still like it? Even if your hair isn’t actually long?

He’d admired it for as long as you could remember, always finding reasons to play with the hair.

You try to not let your mood deflate. The wig was doing its job. Hiding your actual shorter length. You didn’t hate the short hair, just facing the public, facing Bucky sent your heart plummeting with what ifs and negative thoughts.

“You alright?” Bucky whispers, taking a look around the room, to see if anything was out of order.

You look up at him, giving him a soft smile.

“I am.” You assure, he leans down to kiss your forehead.

“You sure? I can go, I know you have an early event to cover.” He raises a brow.

“Stay a while longer?” You request, brushing your fingertips over his cheek, his stubble growing out, he grins. Your thumb moves to his lips, tracing over them.

Bucky places a kiss on your thumb. He brushes back the fringe of the wig, fingers curling over your jaw tipping your head back to kiss you deeply.

He smiles against your lips, loving the lingering taste of your lip balm. The way your scent envelopes him. Sinking him into you. He stops his hands from moving to grab your hair, he has realised you tensed up at that, so he lets his hands wander to the back of your neck and shoulders.

Your hands move to his hair softly tugging upon it to feel more, he moans softly between your parted lips. You do it again and he’s losing all sense of control.

Bucky’s hands grab your waist in a swell move you’re now laying above him, you laugh when his stubble tickles you amidst his kisses to your neck.

Bucky chuckles as well, the sound sweet.

“I love how you make me laugh.” He speaks against your skin. Your heart soars.

“Bucky,”

“I am serious, you just, you brighten up my days and nights.” He cups your cheek, blue eyes full of mirth.

“I love you.” You tell him, his cheeks tinge pink. Right to the tip of his nose. You adore him.

“I love you too, Doll.” He confesses, your own cheeks heat.

You both never get tired of hearing those three words. The happiness Bucky finds within you, the happiness you find within him.

“Make out some more before I go?” He requests, “Please?” he adds biting upon his bottom lip.

“Have I ever said no?” You laugh, brushing your lips against his own.

Bucky’s chest rumbles with another laugh.

The taste of coffee lingers upon his tongue, both of you moulded against one another, wandering hands, kiss bitten lips.

Bucky never wants to leave, but as he stands at your doorway. He puts on a brave smile. It had been a few months but he knew he was headover heels for you.

One more kiss takes away your lip balm’s reapplication.

You lean your head against your doorframe. Watching him walk backwards with a dopey grin towards the elevators.

He stumbles over the upturned carpet, you bite back the giggle as he gives his patent glare to the fabric.

Bucky waves at you and catches your flying kiss to him, pressing it to his chest.

“Goofball.” You tease.

“Yours.” He adds, beaming.

“My goofball.” You affirm.

The elevator doors close on his smiling face, you sigh sadly, already missing him. Shutting your door, you head to your room, retrieving the mannequin head and placing your wig upon it.

Staring at your reflection, you run your fingers through your shorter hair. You loved how it looked, so freeing and most of all you.

As you run your fingers you can’t help but picture Bucky’s fingers. You sigh yet again, the ache in your chest reappears. You don’t want to grow your hair out, but you know he loved the long hair look on you.

Turning to your wardrobe cupboard you get everything prepared for the next morning. You had a motocross tournament.

Bucky was thinking you were there to cover it for your news report. You wonder if telling him would make sense. He did enjoy riding his own motorcycle.

You have half a mind to tell him, as his text comes in that he’s reached home.

You catch your reflection on the blank screen of the phone. No, he’d just worry and then you’d have to be honest about your hair.

Bucky wishes you good luck for the tournament in the morning, packing the food and blanket he brought onto his bike’s carrier.

He wanted to surprise you and also give you the key for his apartment. He had found a park near the tournament. After you were done you both could celebrate there.

Bucky wants to laugh, the way you failed to hide about you riding. The tournament registration documents were sprawled across your table and you tried to hide them but left the main document out. He pretended not to see it.

He had the date saved as a reminder. He’s ecstatic to say the least. Wanting to see you in action.

There is quite the crowd as he parks, everyone already cheering on the riders as the countdown timer begins.

Bucky spots your best friend, Bea.

“Hey Bea.” He greets, trying to spot you or your number through the line up.

“Bu-bucky?” She squeaks, “How what—,”

“She left the papers out so I thought I’d surprise her.” He smiles at her, her surprise morphs into awe.

“She’s going to be so happy.” Bea grins happily, “Her number’s 107.”

His lips part in surprise, locating you on your bike, face obscured by the helmet and eye protection goggles.

“Was that always her number?” He wonders.

“She always had it, every meet by default she ends up with it so she always requested it then. Even during Motocross Juniors.” Bea explains, knowing it was Bucky’s regiment number.

Bucky can’t help the wide grin that takes over him and his heartwarming.

“When she met you and you told her, she was so excited to finally know why she kept getting that number.” Bea chuckles, the announcer tells them the countdown is going to begin.

Bucky and Bear look towards the starting line, you're at the back.

The countdown begins, the crowd erupts into a cheer, Bucky’s eyes remain on you. As you begin to overtake before the HoleShot.

You’re almost there, Bucky cheers as you’re the first one through. Bea claps and they watch the race unfold, you fall back through the first moto. Coming in second, in the second round you begin to gain traction.

Bucky watches the screens and the angles as they show you move through the terrain, you’re slowed across the wet mud section.

The crowd goes silent as the first two bikes slip just after their airtime.

The crash seems brutal, a spin occurring and they slide to the edge of the terrain.

Bucky’s eyes move to your screen. He’s running onto the track before anything even happens, your airtime is brilliant, you feel weightless and then you spot the red flags.

You look forward, the medical flags are there. You try to change your angle so you can slow down and move off track safely.

The timing is misjudged, you land almost going into a wheelie, the dust kicks up and a tire moves into your way turning your bike and spinning it out.

The force throws you off. You hear the yell of your name over the dulled chaos. Dust rises around you as you roll over the ground, finally when you stop against a raised portion of the track you wince.

“Y/N! Y/N!” The figure looms over you, when you raise your hand to get rid of the goggles. The figure beats you to it, you blink. Your favourite shade of blue is worried.

“Bucky?” You ask, voice muffled.

“Doll, do you have a neck brace on?” He questions, hands moving to your helmet.

“I, yeah, Bucky what are you—,” you’re cut off as he carefully supports your head, taking the helmet off.

Seeing your face he sighs with relief, pressing his forehead to yours, hand running iver your hair and he pauses, you press your lips into a thin line.

“Bucky I can explain,” you panic as he pulls himself away.

“I’m so stupid, does it hurt anywhere else? Your legs, hands, anywhere else?” His worried gaze moves over your body.

Your motocross clothing isn’t torn or ripped anywhere, the safety gear has mud all over it.

“You aren’t mad about the hair?” You blurt.

“The hair?” He looks back up and then notices the short length, even in the chaos you look so beautiful, the short hair suiting you so well.

“Doll you look stunning.” He blurts, fingertips grazing over your scalp. You melt into his touch.

“When did you cut it?” He wonders, couldn’t have been this morning you wouldn’t have had the time.

“I—,”

“Hi, I’m the medic, is it okay to assess you?” The woman wears a badge and her colours are the same as the medical flag.

“Yeah.” You look at Bucky, he holds your hand through the assessment.

Turns out you have a sprain in your ankle and your left wrist. They strap you onto the gurney to lead you to the nearest ER for an X-Ray.

Bucky stays with you throughout, filling the forms, learning what needs to be done, asking questions.

He even asks when you would be able to get back to riding. You smile endearingly at him.

The doctors leave you for a moment to check on the other patients.

You reach for Bucky’s hand, “I cut my hair way before I met you, but when we met I was trying out a wig since for wearing it short had me worried over the what ifs and you absolutely loved the longer hair so I just never you know…” you trail off.

“Hey, I love your hair long or short. I think this hair also makes you look adorable as well as badass.” He smiles as you remember the same words he said about your longer hair as well.

“You don’t mind it?” You ask, still not convinced.

“Doll, you, I love you, long hair, short hair, you’d have a third head I’d still love you.” He runs his fingers through your hair.

You breath relieved, “Wait, how did you know about the tournament?” you still lean into his hand.

Bucky smiles sheepish, “Well you left the pamphlet out, and I saw that you had signed up, wanted to surprise you. Have a whole picnic basket ready.”

“I’m so sorry.” You give his hand a squeeze.

“Doll, you have nothing to apologise about, do you know how amazing it is? Seeing you in your element? We can always reschedule the picnic and I wanted to give you this,” he fishes around his pocket retrieving a key on a motorbike keychain.

You laugh, “Bucky you really want us exchanging keys?”

“If it were up to me you’d move in.” His tone is serious, you see he’s written 107 on the bike with a blue sharpie.

“I always wondered why I kept getting 107 on every tournament or participation, even my BMX bike had 107 on it. When I met you and you told me your regiment was 107th, it felt like everything clicked into place.” Your voice gets heavy with emotion, Bucky kisses your forehead.

“Hi Ms. Y/L/N your discharge papers are ready. You can change into your clothes, if you need a vehicle we have a rideshare app pick up area.” The nurse informs the two of you.

“I have my bike, is it okay if I take her home on it?” Bucky questions, Bea was taking your bike back into the rental pick up.

“You can but make sure to immediately elevate your leg once you get home.” She smiles and then moves out.

“Need help changing?” Bucky smirks, then winks. You giggle, shaking your head.

“Maybe at home.” You tease.

Bucky laughs, running his hand through your hair once again, placing a kiss to the top of your head.

-x-

permanent Bucky tags: @slutforsexyseabass

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schismusic · 11 months ago

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Æon Flux and the end of all things

I don't remember the first time I heard of Æon Flux but I sure as hell remember the first time I watched it, and it wasn't too long ago which would technically not warrant the level of obsession I have for that shit, but here we are anyway.

I was knocked the fuck out on painkillers, two of my wisdom teeth freshly removed, not even remotely worried about the exam that I had coming up in like two days from then. So I was barely moving away from my swivel chair and sleeping on a whole ass armored pillow to prevent from tossing and turning and shit felt so surreal to me. It was like the eating chair from the last Cronenberg movie. So I delved into Æon Flux essentially blind and bingewatched the shit out of it. Twice. Ended up downloading the whole thing from some sketchy ass 1080p remastered torrent, rewatched it again, and spread it around personally in a more cauterized Google Drive folder (so if you guys got a nasty ass virtual STD from it, my bad I guess), not even a month after watching the series. Shit was fucked, in short, and every rewatch just fueled this obsession even further.

(image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

One thing about me: when I obsess over stuff I want to draw something at the very least inspired by it. Happens to me a lot with Autechre, who are actually one of maybe three bands I would not hesitate to call my favourite based on an absolutely objective principle which is absolutely not up for discussion and which might be the object of a future post at this point. But the point is fucking Æon Flux is essentially impossible to replicate because Peter Chung's character designs are so recognizable that you start seeing them in literally every other movie that came out in the late '90s/early 2000s - and for reference, Æon Flux was brought to an end in 1995. Consequently, all attempts at drawing Æon Flux-inspired stuff end up either feeling very derivative or looking like fucking trash. Artistry is a weird thing because sometimes it inspires other people, other times it just inspires man-slaughtering rage.

Somewhat many of my friends are or have at one point tried to be accomplished visual artists. Some have made it to professional/teaching level, some others have an art school diploma or degree - and I'll be using this space to shout out @coto-letta aka V., who has recently rejoined Tumblr after years of absence. We met on here, when her handle was much different, and I mistook her for an ex of mine (whom, surprisingly, we are still on relatively good - if quiet - terms with) so I slid into her DMs as you do, and she was like "yeah actually I have no clue who the fuck you are I just think your blog is neat and dropped a follow" which was quite a fundamental moment in understanding that while my life was written like a dodgy soap-opera, that didn't mean I was the centre of the entire world. Anyway, the reason I'm shouting her out is because sometimes something deeper and older than you remember has a way of finding you again when you least expect it and that's what happened when in January 2023 (after V. had left Tumblr for at that point about two years and we had exchanged Instagram accounts) I somehow ended up on her Insta and found out she had been tagged in a picture taken somewhere that looked suspiciously like my university's conference hall and I could not fucking believe she was in my city. I slid into her DMs again, as you do, and found out that no, that wasn't my uni's aula magna, but yes, she was in fact relocating in my city for her master's. So we met up after maybe seven years of on-and-off Internet friendship. It's a neat story, sure, but how the fuck do we tie it into Æon Flux?

(image taken from Episode 3, Season 2: Leisure)

Not trying to be overly dramatic here, but Æon Flux to me is just about a condensation of everything that "art" can mean. Not just visual flare or style, not just deep meaning or interesting ways of putting across one or more questions and never a definitive answer to any of them (more often than not, it's sets of possible answers - usually two, neither of which ends up covering the whole array of possibilities, both of which actually leave a lot to be desired in a number of different ways), not just this insane fucking music that toys with everything you expect from animation courtesy of Drew Neumann who may just rank as one of the best soundtrack artists ever in virtue of this single work. It's the whole package. You would think it'd work taken in pieces, and it does, no objection to that: but it works even better as a whole package. If the moral questioning (and the philosophical musings of season 3, which is unjustly underrated because "it's too normal" by hipster wannabe critic dilettantes who like to think that they could do better than that. Everybody else on the other hand is generally able to stop pull their head out their own ass and recognize, at the very least, the excellent craftsmanship and talent that went into the ten long episodes) wasn't accompanied by the weird fetishistic sex it'd be somewhat less impactful, almost like a cauterized Tenshi no tamago made into a series for mainstream late-night TV audiences. The twist was that MTV's executives, at the time, "didn't understand [the double entendres], they didn't even notice them. So, we were okay", in producer Japhet Asher's own words in the short documentary Investigation: The History of Æon Flux. The network was, in fact, trying to break into the mainstream - they simply couldn't keep their creatives at bay. No wonder they turned to Jersey Shore as they went along.

(image taken from Episode 5, Season 3: The Demiurge)

Even just the main characters' purported edginess, clearly something "of its time", is never played entirely straight. Both leads are way too complex, and very clearly presented as such, to be just summed up by "Æon Flux is an anarchist/Trevor Goodchild is a dictator". Both of which are true, by the way, they're just one part of a full picture. Even within the context of its necessary linearity - this is still an animated short and as such moves only in one direction, even though a number of episodes (specifically Mirror and Chronophasia) deliberately fuck with the viewer's perception of times on varying degrees of diegesis and extradiegesis - the series could be perceived as, indeed, a sandbox: consequently, the viewer could set sail and explore it. This is further encouraged by the series's active weirdness to whoever would want to try and make sense of the world's story. There is no history, there is just the story at hand: an eternal present which you can't understand ("un eterno presente che capire non sai": Ferretti knew his shit, regardless of how it went after CCCP) and which Æon and Trevor are not interested in even trying to contextualize. Not a surprise then that they'd be into each other: their closeness in body and heart doesn't exist at the mind's level, and the whole thing falls apart miserably every time it looks like they could be finally let their weapons down. But as Æon completely understands, and as Trevor seems to actively try to ignore, the fight is already the whole point: star-cross'd as they may be, the entire act of playfully hunting each other for sport both in the bedroom and on the battlefield is what Trevor Goodchild and Æon Flux thrive on. Trevor wants stability but an Æon who doesn't fight back is simply not Æon; Æon does not want the stability, but she definitely likes Trevor to an extent and finds more in common with him that she would probably be willing to admit (I would like to thank Tumblr user @brw on thons very good analysis of the episode A Last Time for Everything, which heavily inspired this section of the post!). In short: if Trevor seems to embody Pier Paolo Pasolini's idea that "there is nothing more anarchistic than power" ("non c'è nulla di più anarchico del potere") then Æon flips the statement on its head: "there is nothing more powerful than anarchism". That is, of course, until we once again confront my signature ad-hoc elephant in the room that this statement just summoned.

(Image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

No spoilers intended, but if you so much as google the name of the series you will easily find out that Æon Flux dies a whole lot throughout the series*. Season 1 and all the shorts from season 2 end with her dying ungrateful deaths and a couple of the long episodes leave much to be desired in the way of positive closure, with Ether Drift Theory representing a peak in bleakness for season 3. Most of the shorts where Æon dies imply that either absolutely nothing changes in the world around when she's lost or that Trevor Goodchild literally just succeeds in all of his goals (see Season 1's finale), and one could make a case that even if she did carry her missions through there would be absolutely nothing to show for it: somebody goes up the chain of power, everything is restored, there is one more tyrant to murder. Not to be that one guy who quotes Nietzsche about everything, but the eternal recurrence of the same is the first thing that comes to mind when watching Æon Flux, especially exemplified and even literalized by the episode War, possibly the best of the short ones: it's the same fucking story four times over a five-minute run time and nothing ever gets better for anyone. The body count in the episode is unquantifiably large - every one of the fallen a potential new Æon Flux or Trevor Goodchild. But this, in a way, implies that Æon keeps being reborn, and one could argue that the act of capturing a fly with her venus-fly-trap eye could simply be her coming back to life, as it were; stopping the most evident sign of decay, turning her eyes outward yet again, to face the eternal return of the same again and again and again…

(Image taken from Episode 8, Season 3: Ether Drift Theory)

You can find Æon Flux for free on the Internet Archive.

*as I was discussing the final draft of this post with my friend @oldshittydog we had a pretty interesting discussion which I thought should be added here for an even clearer, fuller picture:

#schismusic #animation #tv series #aeon flux #aeon flux 1991 #aeon flux 1995 #peter chung #japhet asher #mtv #liquid television #pier paolo pasolini #giovanni lindo ferretti #a lot of random bullshit #i guess i had fun with this #schism writing #long form content

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tomblomfield · 6 months ago

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Taking Risk

I just spent a week talking with some exceptional students from three of the UK's top universities; Cambridge, Oxford and Imperial College. Along with UCL, these British universities represent 4 of the top 10 universities in the world. The US - a country with 5x more people and 8x higher GDP - has the same number of universities in the global top 10.

On these visits, I was struck by the world-class quality of technical talent, especially in AI and biosciences. But I was also struck by something else. After their studies, most of these smart young people wanted to go and work at companies like McKinsey, Goldman Sachs or Google.

I now live in San Francisco and invest in early-stage startups at Y Combinator, and it's striking how undergraduates at top US universities start companies at more than 5x the rate of their British-educated peers. Oxford is ranked 50th in the world, while Cambridge is 61st. Imperial just makes the list at #100. I have been thinking a lot about why this is. The UK certainly doesn't lack the talent or education, and I don't think it's any longer about access to capital.

People like to talk about the role of government incentives, but San Francisco politicians certainly haven't done much to help the startup ecosystem over the last few years, while the UK government has passed a raft of supportive measures.

Instead, I think it's something more deep-rooted - in the UK, the ideas of taking risk and of brazen, commercial ambition are seen as negatives. The American dream is the belief that anyone can be successful if they are smart enough and work hard enough. Whether or not it is the reality for most Americans, Silicon Valley thrives on this optimism.

The US has a positive-sum mindset that business growth will create more wealth and prosperity and that most people overall will benefit as a result. The approach to business in the UK and Europe feels zero-sum. Our instinct is to regulate and tax the technologies that are being pioneered in California, in the misguided belief that it will give us some kind of competitive advantage.

Young people who consider starting businesses are discouraged and the vast majority of our smart, technical graduates take "safe" jobs at prestigious employers. I am trying to figure out why that is.

___

Growing up, every successful adult in my life seemed to be a banker, a lawyer or perhaps a civil engineer, like my father. I didn't know a single person who programmed computers as a job. I taught myself to code entirely from books and the internet in the late 1990s. The pinnacle of my parents' ambition for me was to go to Oxford and study law.

And so I did. While at university, the high-status thing was to work for a prestigious law firm, an investment bank or a management consultancy, and then perhaps move to Private Equity after 3 or 4 years. But while other students were getting summer internships, I launched a startup with two friends. It was an online student marketplace - a bit like eBay - for students. We tried to raise money in the UK in 2006, but found it impossible. One of my cofounders, Kulveer, had a full-time job at Deutsche Bank in London which he left to focus on the startup. His friends were incredulous - they were worried he'd become homeless. My two cofounders eventually got sick of trying to raise money in the UK and moved out to San Francisco. I was too risk-averse to join them - I quit the startup to finish my law degree and then became a management consultant - it seemed like the thing that smart, ambitious students should do. The idea that I could launch a startup instead of getting a "real" job seemed totally implausible.

But in 2011, I turned down a job at McKinsey to start a company, a payments business called GoCardless, with two more friends from university. We managed to get an offer of investment (in the US) just days before my start date at McKinsey, which finally gave me the confidence to choose the startup over a prestigious job offer. My parents were very worried and a friend of my father, who was an investment banker at the time, took me to one side to warn me that this would be the worst decision I ever made. Thirteen years later, GoCardless is worth $2.3bn.

I had a similar experience in 2016, when I was starting Monzo, I had to go through regulatory interviews before I was allowed to work as the CEO of a bank. We hired lawyers and consultants to run mock interviews - and they told me plainly that I was wasting my time. It was inconceivable that the Bank of England would authorise me, a 31 year old who'd never even worked in a bank, to act as the CEO of the UK's newest bank. (It turned out they did.) So much of the UK felt like it was pushing against me as an aspiring entrepreneur. It was like an immune system fighting against a foreign body. The reception I got in the US was dramatically different - people were overwhelmingly encouraging, supportive and helpful. For the benefit of readers who aren't from the UK, I hope it's fair to say that Monzo is now quite successful as well.

___

I don't think I was any smarter or harder working than many of the recent law graduates around me at Oxford. But I probably had an unusual attitude to risk. When we started GoCardless, we were 25 years old, had good degrees, no kids and supportive families. When fundraising was going poorly, we discussed using my parents' garage as an office. McKinsey had told me to contact them if I ever wanted a job in future. I wonder if the offer still stands.

Of course, I benefitted from immense privilege. I had a supportive family whose garage I could have used as an office. I had a good, state-funded education. I lived in a safe, democratic country with free healthcare. And I had a job offer if things didn't work out. And so the downside of the risks we were taking just didn't seem that great.

But there's a pessimism in the UK that often makes people believe they're destined to fail before they start. That it's wrong to even think about being different. Our smartest, most technical young people aspire to work for big companies with prestigious brands, rather than take a risk and start something of their own.

And I still believe the downside risk is small, especially for privileged, smart young people with a great education, a supportive family, and before they accumulate responsibilities like childcare or a mortgage. If you spend a year or two running a startup and it fails, it's not a big deal - the job at Google or McKinsey is still there at the end of it anyway. The potential upside is that you create a product that millions of people use and earn enough money that you never have to work again if you don't want to.

This view is obviously elitist - I'm aware it's not attainable for everyone. But, as a country, we should absolutely want our smartest and hardest working people building very successful companies - these companies are the engines of economic growth. They will employ thousands of people and generate billions in tax revenues. The prosperity that they create will make the entire country wealthier. We need to make our pie bigger, not fight over the economic leftovers of the US. Imagine how different the UK would feel if Google, Microsoft and Facebook were all founded here.

___

When I was talking with many of these smart students this week, many asked me how these American founders get away with all their wild claims. They seem to have limitless ambition and make outlandish claims about their goals - how can they be so sure it will pan out like that? There's always so much uncertainty, especially in scientific research. Aren't they all just bullshitters? Founders in the UK often tell me "I just want to be more realistic," and they pitch their business describing the median expected outcome, which for most startups is failure.

The difference is simple - startup founders in the US imagine the range of possible scenarios and pitch the top one percent outcome. When we were starting Monzo, I said we wanted to build a bank for a billion people around the world. That's a bold ambition, and one it's perhaps unlikely Monzo will meet. Even if we miss that goal, we've still succeeded in building a profitable bank from scratch that has almost 10 million customers.

And it turns out that this approach matches exactly what venture capitalists are looking for. It is an industry based on outlier returns, especially at the earliest stages. Perhaps 70% of investments will fail completely, and another 29% might make a modest return - 1x to 3x the capital invested. But 1% of investments will be worth 1000x what was initially paid. Those 1% of successes easily pay for all the other failures.

On the contrary, many UK investors take an extremely risk-averse view to new business - I lost count of the times that a British investor would ask for me a 3 year cash-flow forecast, and expect the company to break even within that time. UK investors spend too much time trying to mitigate downside risk with all sorts of protective provisions. US venture capital investors are more likely to ask "if this is wildly successful, how big could it be?". The downside of early-stage investing is that you lose 1x your money - it's genuinely not worth worrying much about. The upside is that you make 1000x. This is where you should focus your attention.

___

A thriving tech ecosystem is a virtuous cycle - there's a flywheel effect that takes several revolutions to get up-to-speed. Early pioneers start companies, raise a little money and employ some people. The most successful of these might get acquired or even IPO. The founders get rich and become venture capital investors. The early employees start their own companies or become angel investors. Later employees learn how to scale up these businesses and use their expertise to become the executives of the next wave of successful growth-stage startups.

Skype was a great early example of this - Niklas Zenstrom, the co-founder, launched the VC Atomico. Early employees of Skype started Transferwise or became seed investors at funds like Passion Capital, which invested in both GoCardless and Monzo. Alumni of those two companies have created more than 30 startups between them. Matt Robinson, my cofounder at GoCardless, was one of the UK's most prolific angel investors, before recently becoming a Partner at Accel, one of the top VCs in the world. Relative to 15 or 20 years ago, the UK tech ecosystem is flourishing - our flywheel is starting to accelerate. Silicon Valley has just had a 50 year head start.

There is no longer a shortage of capital for great founders in the UK (although most of the capital still comes from overseas investors). I just believe that people with the highest potential aren't choosing to launch companies, and I want that to change.

___

I don’t think the world is prepared for the tidal wave of technological change that’s about to hit over the next handful of years. Primarily because of the advances in AI, companies are being started this year that are going to transform entire industries over the next decade.

It doesn't seem hyperbolic to say that we should expect to see very significant breakthroughs in quantum computers, nuclear fusion, self-driving vehicles, space exploration and drug discovery in the next 10 or 20 years. I think we are about to enter the biggest period of transformation humanity has ever seen.

Instead of taking safe, well-paying jobs at Goldman Sachs or McKinsey, our young people should take the lead as the world is being rebuilt around us.

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sonosvegliato · 9 months ago

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Do you have an idea of when the third installment of To and Athlete Dying Young will be released? I need to know what day I need to put on my calendar because I've reread the second fic so many times and still each time I reread it it makes me feel sick to my stomach in the best way possible, but this is the first time I've actively sought out your Tumblr to learn more about your fics and you and I'm so excited for the third installment I've constantly been stimming for the past three hours ;o;

Ahahahahahaaaaaaaaa I am no longer hands deep into it I am full body in the cement. I am descending through the earth's crust. I am doing research on paintball for you. Please be safe when keeping with the Topeka potato tradition, the midwest is a scary place and sometimes we get dumped there for thanksgiving because our not-dad's butler says you gotta get outta the house but the himbo you recruited as your manservant won't let you plot revenge while he's still got the chickens to feed and your dumb not-brother has betrayed you by setting the human papershredder on you in the middle of a Steak and Shake like the utter audacity---

This will all make sense in approximately a few months. I've rewritten this thing so many times it has its own Google doc. Its own. I've written every fanfiction I've ever written for every fandom on one gigantic Google Doc but early though the laurel grows gets its own google doc because it thinks it's a special baby that deserves 209 pages of which 170 of them are me throwing them into the virtual incinerator and laughing at the confetti that comes out.

I'm so honored you looked for more on my Tumblr! I don't use it too much except to reblog fic rec lists, but occasionally I'll put some deleted scenes up that I know won't be used...maybe I'll start posting some of the 170 pages I chewed up and spat out and made into the Mona Lisa because I am LEONARDO DA VINCI over here dawg

I am continually working on early though the laurel grows, the last installment of To an Athlete Dying Young, but she is looking to be a hefty girl in more ways than one and as I am ripping apart her insides with my bare teeth and rearranging her within my jaws I don't want to start posting chapters when it's likely they'll change.

I'm so honored people are waiting for this? I've been writing To an Athlete Dying Young pretty much nonstop for over a year now, and I only want to share the best with you! Unfortunately I don't have a calendar date, but the work is moving and moving very fast. I'll give more updates (and more deleted scenes, there are a LOT) as I get closer to the finish!

A deleted scene dialogue as a treat:

“You’re remarkably clear-headed about this,” Bullock says, almost appreciatively.

“Well,” Tim remarks, knocking his temple with his knuckles. “Helps that it’s attached.”

Bullock’s mouth pulls. It’s gone as soon as Tim notices it. “Do you know of any reason someone might have a grudge against your guardian Bruce Wayne?”

Besides the fact that he runs around as Gotham’s number one fearmonger and some criminals run just at the mention of him? Besides the fact that his son/current enemy number one came undead and now has some sort of blood vendetta against him? Besides the fact that Bruce Wayne is the Batman, and vice versa?

“Beats me,” Tim says.

#batman fanfiction #my fic #ruining my sleep schedule now #so I can ruin all y'alls later #tim drake #riding the bull full of crap

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cidthesquid · 9 months ago

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My Debut! - MODEL Debut 3 #nicola

Trying a New fashion game today! Also, Happy Valentine's Day! If you don't have someone special to spend it with, try to at least do something fun for yourself! I'm going to be spending my day trying a new fashion game!

I've seen a few clips of this, And heard it's "the best fashion game on switch!", (Released around the same time as 'Fashion Dreamer') With the only drawback being it's only available in Japanese. So We probably won't be sticking with this too long, but let's get started! ---- Alright, it looks like we just passed our audition, and we're trying to decide what to do next... and wow.. Google Translate is really struggling with this game...

That's fine, fashion is an international language,

Ok, time to create my usual character...and..oh...

Is that really the darkest skin tone? I know this game is made for japan, but really? Style Savvy Ds had more options, and so did Fab Style on the DS/3ds They have a million eye designs, and a full RGB slider for hair colors, But for skin, all you get is a very mild tan :-/

Oh well, hmm this is interesting, they have a dedicated eye size/positioning section.

Three presets for each, eyebrow height, eye height, eye size, and pupal size. It may feel a little limiting, but that's a bit more control than style savvy/fashion dreamer, without overwelmming the player,.

Here's my final character design: (I hope they let me edit it later)

Okay outfit time!

Wow, this game has full layering, bags, and lets you equip multiple accessories! Even though the starting options are limited, the fact that you can (as silly as it sounds) wear a neckless under a scarf. Means you have more freedom than the older style savvy games! (even if I still prefer the outfit designs in SS)

wow there is a lot of dialogue in this game...

umm, I just wanted to have fun making outfits, what is all of this?

Ok, so I guess this is the SS 'Photo studio' equant:

You can't move the camera, but you can adjust the pose, expression and background. (real backgrounds in a game like this look pretty weird. You'll also have added controls for head position and gaze direction:

Anyways, with our first photo shoot out of the way, we now get to see the world map:

our only option is to go to the studio, so lets start there: And once we arrive, we're given a few jobs to choose from:

I really don't know what any of these mean, so we'll go with the 'Cherry blossom viewing coordination' as I think that may just mean "style using pink", maybe?

Nope, it looks like they want me to dress in a casual top for work, Luckily everything is labeled here, so you can just scroll over an item and check the tags.

I'm not sure if all items need to match or we just need something that fits the theme, so let's try this:

This is cute, but apparently dresses don't count for the 'casual top' category, (I should have guessed.)

Let's Try again...

Nope, They're still complaining about the "illustration, I'll need to look that up..." ok, I found a fantastic video from the youtuber "HamsterButtocks", and watched the start of her playthrough. Turns out, you need both tags shown to mach the item in question, so, we'll use the search function to find a top that matches both requirements.

And here we go!

Next up is posing and framing and we're done!

Once you complete the job you get points to 'rank up' as a model, and you get little NPC comments on your post.

And it looks like once we get further in, we'll eventually unlock some fashion show type event:

So very interesting, I should have guessed from the game's title, But unlike Style Savvy and Fashion Dreamer, this game seems to be exclusively about modeling, and dressing up your own character, rather than helping others find their own sense of style. That's fine, and it's a neat idea, Style Savvy Fashion Forward ad a similar event, but I'm not sure how I'd feel about sticking with a full game based around that. I'm still super early on, and I'm sure tons more options will unlock as I go, but this seems to be the core gameplay loop. I had fun trying it out, and I may go back later, But for now, I have to work on the new fashion dreamer event that just went live, and I still have to finish Style Savvy: trendsetters, so I got plenty of stuff to do! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed another entry in my weird fashion game blog!

#fashion game #switch #style #MODEL Debut 3 #nicola #フリュー株式会社 #NotStyleSavvy #MODEL Debut3

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