#more 3am posting for the queue

[asteria49]

AND ANOTHER THING

I'm imagining it now: Solas in wolf form going absolutely feral (maybe even blighted). I'm talking like completely terrifying. All anger and rage and cruelty as he fights against the gods. He's lost control. He skids to a halt at the woman standing defiantly before him. She lays her hand on his chest and he suddenly reverts to elven form. Out of breath. Tears streaming down his cheeks.

She is his heart.

[solarpunkani]

All that NOT TO EVEN MENTION that idk what THEY saw but when I go look in the Solarpunk tag the first thing I see is a post going ‘uguuuu the solarpunk tag isnt solarpunk enough for meeeeeee’ and then immediately afterwards the next few posts are

- people talking about community building

- people talking about how to make patches

- people talking about actions they’re taking, like making their own clothes or planning a garden

- people talking about actions other people are doing, like reusing items to make new functional items, and more

- people talking about actions that we all should be doing more often, like growing and sharing food, or advocating for things like image IDs on posts (which like for real we should all start adding image IDs on our posts)

- maybe a handful of aesthetic posts

- people making posts talking about how the movement started off as an aesthetic in response to all the people who keep going into the tag and deriding it for not being ‘punk enough’

This goes for both ‘top posts’ view AND ‘latest’ view btw, different ones, some with fewer notes than others, and different posts in different views obviously but like.

Even the aesthetic posts that DO show up are for the most part either A: art that visualizes a green future for us to strive towards B: ‘here’s my garden! How can you do something similar? Lets talk about it!’ C: literally stuff people are already doing to strive for a better future but with really good image quality so it looks pretty or D: concept art for like. Clean energy solutions or community centers or other solutions that would help build a better future. Maybe thats just A rephrased but screw it.

IDK. Maybe our punk looks different than what people are expecting???? A lot greener and more environmental than what my parents sure think of when they hear ‘punk’ thats for sure. But I don’t think that should make it less-than.

Either that or I simply follow so many solarpunk people who are talking about action and politics and resistance and such that I don’t see as many aesthetic posts as someone new to The Club may see. Cause I genuinely usually have to search for the aesthetic stuff. But even if that is the case, all that means is that you can’t give something a cursory 2.7 second glance and then go ‘why am I not seeing the punk stuff!!!’

[geodegamer]

buenos dias

making a pinned post just in case i need it

this blog & this post are WIPs

ill make it prettier some other time

ok see ya

[kenzan-kiwami]

hehe... i'm going to bring all of tumblr down with me

[flemingology]

loving every curve ─ leah williamson x reader

in which: you learn to be intimate again with leah after your pregnancy

warnings: smut (18+), fingering (r receiving), oral (r receiving), dirty talk, language, post-pregnancy insecurities, body dysmorphia

wc: 4.9K

a/n: I was going to queue this for friday but I couldn't wait LOL. hope you all enjoy!

Pregnancy with Leah was a journey that you wouldn't trade for the world. You and your wife had been unsuccessful a couple times with the IVF journey, so when one day you received the good news, the both of you were on top of the world and couldn't wait to meet the little wonder that was going to be growing in your belly.

It was pure bliss, really. Ever since you found out you were pregnant, Leah had stepped into a role that you'd never seen her take up before. She was a very caring person before, but she had stepped that up a notch. It came to a point where you even had to tell her to refrain a little, that you were more than capable of going to work and doing household chores in the first months of your pregnancy – Leah was reluctant to give in, but when she noticed after a few weeks that she wouldn't be able to keep up with the household chores compared with her busy footballing schedule, she gave in.

As the months passed, and you started experiencing the hardships of pregnancy, Leah was the perfect partner. She would be by your side every time you were heaving up your breakfast, wouldn't leave your side if you were feeling weak and would be experiencing blood sugar drops, she would accommodate to all of your cravings – meaning she would sometimes drive to the shop at 3am, eyes still full of sleep, but on a mission to get you pickles and mustard, because that was seemingly what your stomach made you crave that night.

One of the hardest things, though, that you didn't expect, was how wary you were of your body changing. The first couple months nothing visibly changed, not until you started showing. You and Leah loved the little bump in your stomach, a testament to the little life that was growing in your belly. But as the months passed and your stomach started to grow more and more, came the big visible changes on your body. You were well aware that you were going to put on weight and that your body wouldn't look the way it had before you grew pregnant, but you were still in your head about it.

The stretch marks, the bloated feeling, the swollenness – that accompanied with naturally heightened emotions, it wasn't nice. You knew that it was normal and that it was only happening because your body had to accommodate for the child that was growing inside of you, but you couldn't get it out of your head.

Leah reassured you every day that she thought you were beautiful, that you'd never looked this good throughout the 5 years of your relationship. She would tell you about the "pregnancy glow" all the time, and would claim that she'd fallen in love with you over and over again ever since you started to show.

You thought it was going to be better after you'd given birth, but the stretch marks and the loose skin didn't magically disappear – you had certainly hoped it would. You'd stuck to applying cream to your stretch marks throughout your whole pregnancy, so you knew the skin would form back to normal rather sooner than later, but you still found it hard to look at yourself in the mirror. The body you had worked so hard for over the last couple years was no longer there, and as much as you had a lovely little baby boy to show for it, you couldn't help but miss it.

It was Friday night, set date night for Leah and you. It was the first time since the birth of your son that the two of you would be going out for date night, rather than staying in. Amanda had taken him for the night, very excited about the prospect of her grandson staying with her for the first time.

You were in your bedroom, looking through the options in your wardrobe, struggling to pick out what to wear. Truthfully, you didn't know what you would even fit in, at this moment in time. You'd lost some of your pregnancy weight but certainly not all of it, and you weren't sure if you would fit into any of the dresses that you owned. You'd tried a couple, to no avail. You wanted to look good, look good for you and look good for your wife, who had been nothing but exceptional to you the past 9 months and more.

You heard a soft padding of footsteps up the stairs, Leah probably noticed that you had been in there for quite some time. She entered your bedroom and you couldn't help but feel remorseful when you shot her a look. She was clad in a straight black pair of trousers, combined with a white, sleeveless top. A very simple outfit, but she looked amazing. She had her hair down, a welcome change to the ponytail she always had it in.

"Hey baby, you good? Just checking, you've been in here for quite some time now," Leah said softly, body leaning against the doorframe. You shot her a defeated look. "I don't know, Le. Nothing fits me anymore, I don't know what to wear," you vaguely gestured towards your wardrobe. You nearly missed the pitiful look that crossed your girlfriend's face before she made her way over to you, wrapping her arms around your waist from behind, leaning her chin on your shoulder.

"What about that one," Leah proposed, pointing towards a yellow dress that she gifted you for your anniversary last year. "Tried, it's too tight on my thighs," you responded. She hummed, looking elsewhere. "The red one," she questioned, met with another shake of your head. "Nope, felt like it was suffocating me," Leah nodded, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. "How about just a pair of jeans and a shirt then, hmm?"

"None of my jeans fit me, Le. Why do you think I've been walking around in sweatpants the past two weeks," you said, a slight hint of annoyance clear in your voice. "Okay, I'm sorry," she said softly, rubbing her hands over your stomach appreciatively. Before long, she turned you around in her grip, looking you into the eye.

"Would you rather stay home instead, chill on the couch and watch a film, that works for me too," Leah proposed. You casted your gaze down. That sounded perfect, but you didn't want to take this away from her and from you both. You knew how excited Leah had been for today, the day accentuated with a red circle on the calendar that hung in your home office. It'd been ages since the both of you spent some quality time outside the house, finally finding a vacant spot that you two wanted to make use of as best as possible.

She took your chin in between her thumb and index finger, slowly pushing your head back up. She placed one of her hands on the side of your face, rubbing your cheek affectionately. You braved a look at her, eyes slightly watery. "Are you sure," you questioned, but before you could express yourself further, Leah was already nodding. "I'm sure. All I want is to be with you, and I want you to be comfortable. We've got plenty of time together to go out for dinner, but if you'd rather stay in tonight, then we're staying in," she said, putting a strand of hair behind your ear. She wiped away a stray tear that had escaped your eye, pressing a soft kiss against the wet trail it had left behind.

"Come on, love, I'll change real quick and then we can get comfortable on the couch, hmm? I'll order us some food and then we can just enjoy a chill evening together, how's that sound," she said, her gaze still holding yours. You nodded, burying your face in the crook of her neck. "Perfect," you mumbled, earning an appreciative chuckle from your blonde lover who was rubbing her hands up and down your back affectionately.

A couple moments later you made your way downstairs, now dressed in a pair of fuzzy sweatpants and one of Leah's old Arsenal hoodies. You threw some of your softest blankets on the couch and made the both of you a cup of tea, that you were placing on the coffee table by the couch just as Leah came down too, having changed into something more forgiving than what she was wearing before.

"Mm, you read my mind," she said as she walked over, grabbing her mug from the table and taking a swig of her tea. "Just how I like it, thank you baby," she pressed a sweet, lingering kiss on your lips before pulling away and ordering some food.

"Pizza sound good?", she asked. "Pizza sounds great."

Your night went on quietly, the two of you cuddled up on the couch watching a show you'd discovered together, eating your pizza and stealing kisses from each other now and then.

When the third episode you watched in a row was coming to an end, Leah shifted her body so you were now laying on top of her instead of between her legs. She looked you in the eye and pushed a strand of hair behind your ears, a soft, loving gaze looking over you. "I love you, baby. So much," she started. "I don't care if we're out eating at a fancy restaurant or ordering pizza and binge watching our show, as long as you're my company, I don't care what we do," she smiled, pressing a soft kiss against the tip of your nose.

"You're the best, Le. Thank you for being so understanding. And thank you for being the best mum our baby boy could've wished for," at this, you could see Leah's eyes growing wet with unshed tears, forever emotionally affected when her son was mentioned. You grabbed her face in both hands and leaned in closer, pressing a firm kiss against her warm lips. She tasted salty, testament of a tear that managed to escape right before you leaned in.

Leah was the one who broke the kiss after a couple moments, you chasing her lips as you couldn't get enough of her. She chuckled before speaking up, "You're amazing. You carried this little human being inside your stomach for 9 months and then gave birth to it, bringing life to our son. I'm so proud of you and I'm way beyond amazed at what you did. You're wonderful, mama," the new nickname caused a tingle in your chest, but it also sent a shot of arousal somewhere deeper, something you didn't expect to happen.

Your breath hitched and you pulled back a little, cheeks flushing slightly red, to which Leah cocked an eyebrow at you. "Oh?", she questioned, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "That was an interesting reaction," she teased further, placing her hands on your thighs that were on each side of her body, now straddling her.

"Shut up," you said, throwing your head back and looking up at the ceiling. "I'll keep that one in mind," she said before pulling you back down to her, clasping her hands together at the back of your neck and pulling you into a heated kiss. Her lips were firm against yours, her tongue swiping across your bottom lip soon enough to ask for permission. You eagerly granted her that, opening your mouth to which you couldn't hold back a soft moan. Leah's tongue explored your mouth, kissing you with a fervor she hadn't for a while.

Truth be told, Leah and you hadn't really done anything like this since the birth of your son. You and your body were still exhausted from the pregnancy and as much as you wanted to be intimate with her, both the tiredness and the insecurity had held you both back. Leah had been patient, she had been incredible and hadn't pushed for anything. She knew you wanted to take things back up on your own accord and that's why she gave you space. But now, with her toned body beneath you, her hands roaming all over your upper body and her tongue licking into your mouth, you couldn't help but feel the arousal building between your legs.

"Le, please," you whimpered, sounding embarrassingly desperate after only a few minutes of kissing and wandering hands. She pulled away, a frown etched onto her face. "What's wrong, baby, are you okay?", she asked, worry laced into her voice. You grunted. "God, yeah, I'm more than okay. I-," you took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. "I need you."

Leah's eyes widened slightly at your words, the look of surprise quickly changing into something else, a playful glint now appearing in her eyes. "Yeah? You sure?", she asked, more out of politeness than actual concern, her hands already starting to wander up your chest, inching closer towards your breasts.

Leah had always been more of a boob than bum girl, and safe to say she was devastated to learn throughout your pregnancy that any of her touches in that area caused you to wince due to the sensitivity of them.

You nodded sheepishly, closing your eyes when you felt Leah's hands grazing your boobs. Despite still clothed, you could feel goosebumps starting to form across your back, your body clearly affected by the slightest of touches provided by the woman tucked underneath you.

"Let's go upstairs, you might be a bit more comfortable", Leah said as she pulled her hands away from you. You knew she was only being mindful of you and your body, but truth be told – you couldn't care less now. You needed her and you needed her now.

You grumbled in response, leaning your head down into the juncture between Leah's shoulders and neck, starting to roll your hips against hers. You heard how Leah's breath hitched, fingers digging into your hips at the sensation. "Needy, huh?", she teased, to which you sunk your teeth into her neck, pulling a hiss out of your girlfriend before soothing the sing with a languid lick of your tongue.

"God, I missed you," Leah whimpered. "I missed this and I missed you, I missed the feeling of your body on top of me," she continued, her words clearly affecting you as you could feel the arousal between your legs growing. Before long, Leah sat the two of you up straight before sliding from underneath you, throwing her legs over the edge of the couch and getting up. "I was serious when I told you I wanted to go upstairs, baby," she smirked, holding her hands out for you to take, hoisting you up from the couch and leading the two of you upstairs to your bedroom.

As much as the touches were hungry and fleeting downstairs on the couch, the air had changed now. Leah's actions were slow, deliberate, calculated. Like she had planned this out weeks ago, like she knew exactly what she wanted to do to have you unraveling underneath her touch.

She closed the door behind you and was back onto you within a moment, wrapping her arms around your waist and kissing down the nape of your neck, licking a couple stripes from your upper back up until your ear, softly nipping on your earlobe which caused a low moan to fall from your lips.

You moved your arms behind you, steading yourselves by grabbing Leah's thighs. She continued her ministrations, kissing and licking across all your sensitive spots – she hadn't forgotten anything about how to properly please you. She still knew your body like the back of her hand; knew where to kiss, knew where to lick, knew where to touch.

But just in a second, the vibe hanging between the two of you had flipped completely. Leah manoeuvred the two of you towards the bed, but whilst doing so you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It wasn't much, and it certainly wasn't long, but it brought the insecurities back from a couple hours ago that Leah had meticulously been working away.

Whereas you had been leaning into your girlfriend's touches and affection, you were now subtly pulling away, not trying to make it too obvious what was happening. You didn't want to get in your head about this. You wanted to enjoy this moment. You needed this, really. But you couldn't keep the thoughts at bay, and they were consuming your brain. You became too aware of your skin under Leah's fingertips, and you held a hand to her chest just before she could push you down onto the mattress.

Leah thought you needed a break for some air, but when you leaned your head down against her chest, she knew this was more than that. You couldn't see, but you knew a concerned frown would be etched onto your girlfriend's face. You felt bad, too. Downstairs, you had seen how excited she got when you told her you needed her – the twinkle in her eye gave everything away. One of your hands fisted Leah's shirt, desperately trying to ground yourself while your thoughts were running rampant around your head.

"Hey, hey, baby are you okay?", Leah tried, slowly coaxing your head away from her chest and pushing it back to eye-level. "Did I do anything wrong, did I hurt you?", you could hear how her voice was filled with concern, clearly thinking she was the one that caused you to want to take a step back.

"No, Le. It's not you," you took a deep breath. "It's me," you looked her in the eyes and continued speaking. "I'm just so self-conscious of my body and I don't know if I want you to see it like this," you took her hand in yours and played with her fingers. "I know you've seen it before, and you've definitely seen it since pregnancy, but not in this situation. And it's just got me in my head," you finished, the feeling of embarrassment not letting you go just yet.

Leah breathed out a sigh of relief before she moved around you, sitting down on the bed and patting her thighs, signaling you to come sit on her lap. You followed her instructions, sitting sideways on her lap, your arms around her neck. She gave you a second to get comfortable before she spoke. "You're beautiful, baby. I know these may be empty words but I promise you that I mean it. Your body is the living proof of the little boy you brought to life – that's an incredible achievement."

She held your gaze, trying to get through to you. "This, right here," she pointed between you and her. "is more than just based on pure bodily attraction. Yes, I still find you incredibly attractive. If anything, I find you more attractive than I did before your pregnancy, but I'm also just so in love with you. And that's not just based on how you look or how you feel beneath me, that's about you. You as a person, as a friend, as a lover and especially as a mother. I want to make love to you because you're you, not because you have a toned abdomen or because you have a bicep bulge." Leah held your face between her hands and pulled you closer to her, pressing a sweet kiss against your forehead. "Now, if you let me, let me show you just how much I love you, please."

You rested your forehead against her and exhaled deeply, affected by Leah's words. You gathered your thoughts and looked up at her, giving her a slight nod. She smiled. "I'll be gentle, I promise," you reciprocated her smile and leaned back in to her, softly pressing your lips against hers.

A couple moments later Leah shifted the two of you so you were now underneath her instead of on your lap, and brought you up the bed so you were resting comfortably against the pillows. "Good?", she questioned, you bit your lip and nodded. "Yeah, perfect."

Leah positioned her body on top of you, careful not to rest any weight on you. She placed her thighs on either side of your hips, leaning her head down and starting all over again. She pressed kisses against your cheeks, your nose, your neck, your jawline and eventually started moving down your body. Her hands wandered all over your clothed upper body, causing goosebumps to form over your skin.

"Can I take this off, love?", Leah questioned, looking you in the eye as she was playing with the hem of your hoodie. You slightly nodded, but your girlfriend didn't seem satisfied with the lack of response. "I'm gonna need words, baby," she continued, to which you verbally responded yes. "Good girl," she said quietly under her breath, but you caught it and you felt a jolt of arousal course through your body.

She took off your hoodie, revealing your upper body that was only covered by a bra now. "This too?", she asked, to which you seemed a bit more hesitant. "We can leave it on too, I don't mind," she reassured you, but you knew you'd have to get over it anyway. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. You trusted her. She loved you and you knew that. "No, it's fine. Go ahead, please," you said.

Leah put an arm around your back and helped you up, unclasping your bra with the other hand – she couldn't conceal the smug grin growing on her face as she expertly removed your bra with one hand. "Still got it, huh," she teased, followed by you rolling your eyes and laying back against the pillows. "Shut it, Williamson."

Leah let her gaze fall to your chest, and she took a deep breath. "God, you're beautiful," she said, before leaning in closer. She seemed a little hesitant to connect her lips to your nipple, but any insecurity melted away once you tangled one of your hands into her blonde locks and tugged her against you.

A heady moan fell from your lips when Leah's warm mouth enveloped your nipple, the other one being rolled between her thumb and index finger. Her tongue flicked over the sensitive peak and you felt yourself involuntarily bucking into her. "Fuck, Le, that feels so good. I missed you," Leah hummed against you, the vibrations against your chest sending jolts of pleasure down to your core.

She let your nipple go with a pop and turned her attention to the other one, expertly sucking and flicking the nub until she felt she had adequately teased you. She came back up, lowering her body down on the bed as her head now rested on your stomach. "Can I take your sweats off, baby?", she asked, still mindful of getting consent from you for every thing she did. You appreciated it, but you'd come to a point where you just wanted her to get over with it. "Yes, Le, please," you whimpered. In other situations you would probably be embarrassed at how desperate your voice sounded, but you couldn't care less now.

Leah understood the need in your voice, and took both your sweatpants and underwear off in one swift movement. "So gorgeous," Leah mumbled under her breath. She came back up your body and leaned her head against the inside of your thigh, slowly pushing the other one open with her hand. "Still okay?", she asked. "More than okay, Le. Please, I need you. Really need you," you grumbled.

Leah took the hint and wasted no more time in getting down to it, burying her face into your heat and licking a long stripe from your entrance up until your clit. You let out a loud moan at the sensation, core already sensitive from how long it had been since you had been touched like that. "Fuck, Leah, just like that," you managed to get out, hands covering your eyes as you were overwhelmed by how good it felt.

Leah sucked, licked, kissed expertly, making sure not a single part of your pussy was left untouched. She shuffled between your legs and made place for her arm, two of her fingers now teasing your entrance as she was sucking on the sensitive, swollen bud of nerves sitting proudly at the top of your folds.

You could tell she was teasing you, fingers ever so slightly dipping in but pulling out before you could even properly feel it. You bucked your hips into her, trying to get some friction from her fingers. Leah chuckled and before you could register it, she inserted her fingers into you completely, the two of you moaning at the feeling.

"Oh, fuck," your breath hitched in your throat when Leah pulled back out, before pushing her fingers inside again. "Fuck, baby, that's so good. You feel so good inside of me," you continued, before a particularly good thrust of your fingers caused you to let out another wanton moan.

"You're so tight, love. I can tell it's been a while, you feel so good. I love making you feel good and I love seeing the faces you make while I'm fucking you," Leah had always been more on the vocal side during sex and you absolutely loved it, especially in moments like these where you needed a little more reassurance. Leah kept pumping her fingers in and out of you, not letting up by any means when she heard your moans grow higher in pitch.

"You're gonna make me cum, Le, please don't stop," you said, the ever so familiar sensation growing in your stomach. "Tell me you're beautiful," Leah said. Your eyes flew open and a confused frown etched onto your face, trying to process her words while she was still slamming into you with fervor. "I said, tell me you look beautiful. I'm not letting you cum before you tell me you look beautiful," she continued, sounding very determined.

You threw your head back and grunted, trying your hardest to keep your orgasm at bay – not the easiest of tasks with Leah going back to sucking your clit. "Please, Le," you pleaded, wanting nothing more than to release all the tension that was building up in your body.

Leah hummed against you in disapproval before detaching her mouth from your core. "It's easy, darling. Just tell me you're beautiful."

You grumbled, "fuck, I'm beautiful," you said, hoping she would finally let you cum now.

"Again," Leah said, speeding up her thrusts a bit more while looking you in the eyes. "Tell me again. Look me in my eyes and tell me again."

"I'm beautiful," you said again, tears welling up in your eyes with the intensity of pleasure that was coursing through your veins.

"One more time. Tell me one more time and I'll let you cum," Leah mumbled under her breath, before dipping her head back into your core, nuzzling herself deep, licking up and down your slit as she kept fingering you.

"I'm beautiful," you yelled, before you felt Leah give a tight squeeze against your thigh, signaling you that you were allowed to cum. Within seconds the coil in your belly snapped, overwhelming your body with pure pleasure. Your back arched off the bed, Leah trying to keep you in place to help you ride out your high – her fingers still pumping in and out of you, now with less intensity than before. You let out a long, low moan when you came down from your orgasm, your body falling back against the pillows – spent.

You chuckled and looked down at your girlfriend, who was wearing a smug smile as she leaned her face against your inner thigh. "You're insatiable, Le", you said, before she slowly pulled her fingers out of your core, to which you hissed – a feeling of emptiness overcoming your senses. She made sure you were watching her as she sucked her digits off one by one, swallowing every last drop of cum you had left on her fingers.

You threw your head back and groaned, feeling a new spike of arousal go down to your core as you watched her sensually bob her mouth up and down her fingers. She came back up after a while, letting you catch your breath for a little while longer before she spoke.

"You really are beautiful, baby. And I love you so incredibly much. I'm proud of you. Thank you for allowing me to do this," you opened your eyes and caught her gaze just as she finished speaking. You leant in and pressed a passionate kiss against her lips, pouring every single ounce of love and adoration you had for the woman next to you into the kiss. "Thank you for doing this. I needed it more than I thought I did. Thank you for being patient," you finished.

"Glad I could make you feel good, mama," she quipped back, a teasing glint in her eye at the use of a nickname she knew you liked, a revelation she only discovered a couple hours ago.

Before long, she found yourself on top of you again and you went at it for a second round, and a third. And maybe, after a warm shower together, even a fourth.

[onlyangel4]

vigilante shit. dr3. smau.

daniel ricciardo x fiancée reader

daniel thought he knew what to expect when it came to your live shows but he is quick to find out you kept a certain routine a secret from him for a reason.

author's note:I was planning to do the albums in order but i accidentslly posted this so i can't be bothered to fix it.

this can be viewed as an extension of the so high school series as i see them as the same couple. also for this can we pretend that danny has an official tik tok account pls and thanks

faceclaim: taylor swift

taylor swift series masterlist.

latenightseth

liked by y/ninsta, danielricciardo, user1 and 432,877 others

tagged: y/ninsta

latenightseth: y/n y/ln reveals that she has some surprises planned on her tour, including a few routines that her fiancee doesn't even know about, hear about this and more on tonight's episode

view all 2,309 comments

y/ninsta: thank you so much for having me

latenightseth: we would talk to you every single night if we could

user1: i have tickets to the first night of tour and i am so excited

user2: i am so glad that the start of tour lines up with summer break so danny gets to be there to support his girl

user3: still can't believe tour starts next week

user4: that outfit is everything, daniel ricciardo you are a lucky man

y/nsightings posted a story

written: y/n and danny have arrived in arizona ahead of the first night of tour which kicks off in two days

y/nfan

liked by danielricciardo, user5, user6 and 451,223 others

y/nfan: guys i am still in shock. bestie and i got to the stadium at 3am and have been first and second in the queue to see y/n, daniel just came out saying he was going on a coffee run, he spoke to use a little and i even got to give him a pair of glasses that i made on the off chance we would be anywhere near the vip tent. he is the nicest person ever and he told us that y/n is not letting him watch some parts of the show until the actual concert, she is planning something and i love it.

view all 4,329 comments

danielricciardo: thank you so much for the glasses, i showed y/n and she loves them

y/nfan: holy shit this day keeps on getting better and better

user5: you are so lucky oh my god

user6: i wonder what she is planning

y/ntourupdates posted a story

written: y/n kicked off tour starting with the album lover, written all about fiancee daniel ricciardo apparently those stood near him said he smiled the whole time.

y/ntourupdates

liked by user7, user8, user9 and 231,221 others

y/ntourupdates: y/n just introduced a section of her tour called the acoustic set, "i will play one song on guitar and one on piano. this set is going to be different for every show and i will play whatever i feel like and tonight i am feeling a whole lot of love arizona" she then proceeded to play i think he knows on guitar and dress on piano, both songs written about her finacee. y/n is so in love and it is the cutest thing ever.

view all 1,258 comments

user7: now i'm going to be so stressed about what acoustic songs i get

user8: that combo is insane

user9: i love the yellow dress omg

y/nissohot posted a story

written: guys daniel put on his glasses during vigilante shit so he could see y/n better

y/ntourupdates posted a story

written: y/n and daniel leaving the stadium after a brilliant opening night

dannyricofficialtok posted a slideshow

caption: i am marrying her wtf

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[nxlx96]

The Boy Saviour - Oscar Piastri x Reader (she/her)

Hi, this is my first time writing x reader, and the idea came to me at 3am a few nights ago while i was trying to sleep and hasn't left me live ever since. This is also my first time posting on tumblr so bear the simple format.

Trigger Warning: Non-consensual drug use, as in, reader gets roofied in a bar (Not by any named character nor any of the drivers, so rest assured on that sense). There is also recreational alcohol consumption and a bit of off-camera violence.

WC: 8381

Also, this is more of a pre-slash story rather than a romantic one. That's all I have to say, I'll shut up and let you read.

Please let me know what you think!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · 𖥸 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Post race driver parties are not an uncommon thing, although it is much more frequent in the European leg of the season; when everyone is in the same country or near enough they don’t care for a few hours of commute -Today's crowd was composed of Charles, Oscar, Max, Lando, Alex, George, Pierre, Carlos and as a star guest, Daniel-. These parties were often the perfect way to try and unwind from the pressure of the season and to smooth out whatever incidents happened on track. A few passive aggressive interchanges, three shots and everyone’s usually back to laughing and buzzing along.

Tonight they had followed Charles’ recommendation and gone to a club in the more residential area of Monaco, away from the yacht club and the casino. It was still tightly packed with people dancing on the dancefloor and the bar was busy as the drinks kept on coming, but the people there didn't care much for them and they were able to enjoy themselves without worrying about having too many eyes on them.

They had a booth in the second floor alcove, allowing them an almost full view of the dance floor if anyone cared to look down, but they were too busy roughhousing and laughing. She’d gotten used to it, of course, having grown as a girl in motorsports it’s simply part of the package. But sometimes she still needed a break when they were behaving like that, because while they recognise her as a proper rival, a true competitor despite gender bias, being drunk they sometimes forget they have size and strength to their favour while having their fun, and their brawling and heavy shoulder slaps felt a tiny bit too annoying while tipsy. Overwhelming.

So she excuses herself to the bar, shaking the glass that now only tinkers with half melted ice cubes. She gets a few nods and a stray thumbs up but the chatter continues like before.

The layout of the club had the bar as the centerpiece gemstone, the first thing you see when you come though the main entrance across from the massive dance floor. The dance floor’s design is full of different height platforms, similar to those at Jimmy Z. Their booth on the second floor has a perfect view of all the first floor, except for the public entrance, which is right underneath it.

Coming down the stairs, she followed the platforms' paths that led her to the bar once again, choosing a stool to sit and wait for the bartenders to take her order. 

On the wall to her left, the DJ booth rises itself over all the platforms in its own little block, colored lights sprouting from the base towards the right of it, in the corner between the bar and the DJ there is the smaller door they were escorted through, directly from the parking lot behind the establishment. On the opposite wall there's a hallway that leads to what she assumes are the bathrooms, judging by the long queue of women she can see standing in the hallway.

A tap on the countertop brings her attention back. The bartender asks for her order in French, and her basic understanding of the language allows her to order a raspberry mojito without spluttering too much. A sweet enough concoction to help smooth out the straight Vodka shots they downed back at the table. 

In no time, a new clear plastic cup was placed in front of her. A tall cup full to the brim with rum and sparkly water. A mix of raspberry puree, lemon and mint sitting at the bottom. She grabs the straw and starts mixing the cocktail, but the ice floating on top, and the decorative mint leaves that float at the top threaten to overflow the cup when she does, so she has to take another bitter sip of almost pure liquor before actually enjoying the sweetness.

She rested her elbow on the bartop and her chin in her hand, alternating between swaying to the music, looking at the bartenders preparing fancy and complicated cocktails and looking around the crowd dancing on the floor. It wasn’t exactly a quiet place, but it did provide respite from the boys’ rowdiness. Occasionally there would be people who sat in the barstools next to her. Some of them made some sort of small talk while waiting for their drinks to be ready, but no one lingered in her space for too long, allowing her to unwind on her own.

♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ ♩ ♪ ♫ ♬ ♭ 

As a woman in life, you learn to know when to follow your instincts. Call it bad omen, gut feeling or sixth sense. Sometimes you subconsciously register danger before you see or hear something. In this case, she felt a tight coil in her stomach -looking back it might have been more of a natural reaction than not a bad omen-, her adrenaline spiked like she’d been in the car after miraculously avoiding a collision. Her hands trembled a bit as she sneakily tried to look around. There was a couple at the bar two seats to her right, too engrossed in each other to be the source of panic. As she swiped to the other side, her hand caught the straw of her cup, pulling it from inside. She tried to catch it but it rolled over the edge of the bartop, falling to the ground. 

Fucking breathe!

Straw forgotten, she grabbed the cup and twisted around in her stool, swiping the room with her gaze. To her other side there was a group of friends rowdily chatting, no different from the drivers’ table upstairs. He made eye contact with one of them, a guy not participating in the conversation. He seemed embarrassed to have been caught staring as he turned red and avoided eye contact. Too shy, too far away, probably not that either. She started scanning the crowd on the dancefloor with her heart almost at her throat.

Without a straw, she was left to swirl the whole cup to stir its contents. No one in the vicinity was particularly close to her bubble, or paying special attention to her, but the sensation didn’t go away. Some movement from the group at her side made her tense up, but it was a small part of them that walked towards the dancefloor. Shy boy included. The ones left at the bar were immersed in conversation, crowding together to hear themselves over the music. So she relaxed again.

She’d been tilting the drink to her lips when she finally realised that her nearly melted ice cubes had sunk to the bottom of the cup, and the whole thing looked cloudy. Her heart stopped in her throat, closing her airways.

I’ve been drugged.

The realisation sinks in, but it feels unreal.

Is this really happening to me?

The glass is on her lips, and she tilts it back, but keeps her mouth sealed; knowing that whoever did it must be keeping an eye on her. Her jaw is clenched so hard it’s almost difficult to breathe. Her first instinct is to throw the whole thing on the ground, but it’s less than half full now. Whatever they put in it has been in her system for long enough. Her next thought is to notify the bartenders, but she hesitates before turning around. There had been no one near enough on her side of the bar to get close to her drink, and she’d kept her hand over it at all moments; but of course the rim was wide and there were gaps between her fingers where someone could have dumped something in. For now the bartenders are also suspicious. Twisting her arm, she sets the drink on the table behind her; uncaring now to leave it unsupervised. 

The damage has already been done anyway. She figures.

Her heart rate does nothing to slow down, and her thoughts do not help at all. She is in imminent danger with no way out. She’d left her purse at the booth upstairs, and doesn’t have her phone at hand. She looks up in the direction of their table. Under the strobing lights she can see the crowd of drivers has dwindled down. She can distinguish Alex, George, Carlos, Max and Lando sitting up there; the rest of them might be somewhere in the dancefloor. The idea of trying to get the attention of the guys up there was also discarded, since it will alert her assailant too, and she has no guarantee it’ll get the guys’ attention. Trying to find the others in the crowd sounds just as impossible a task as to find a needle in a haystack. 

Her hands shake. The safest alternative that comes to her mind is to run to the women’s bathroom. The crowd queuing in the halfway has reduced, and the hallway looks dark; but it’s her best shot.

Over the corner of her eye something catches her attention. A white button up shit that looks almost fluorescent under the black lights. The figure skirts around the dancefloor, following almost the same path she took to get to the bar, but it’s clear his destination is not the same, since he doesn’t slow down and seems to be aiming for the bathrooms instead.

“Oscar!” She yells before she realises. It might have sounded a bit too strangled, a bit too panicked, but it catches his attention. She’s reaching a hand out to him, and he extends his arm for her to grab as he gets close to her stool.

“Oh hey,” He looks sort of confused, and she doesn’t blame him. They do gravitate to the same groups, But they’re not particularly close friends, so her calling out feels awkward for both of them. “Didn’t realise you came here.” He gestures awkwardly to the bar, but she’s too relieved to have found a safe person she doesn’t even hear what he’s saying. 

She jumps from the stool, holding onto his wrist. “Come dance with me!” 

He hesitates “... You know I’m not-” She’s still not listening, she hesitates between abandoning her cup at the bar, but grabs it at the last second and turns back to him.

“Just one song, come on!” 

“I was going to-” He tries again, but this time she digs her nails into his skin, and desperately tugs him with a trembling hand. He doesn’t put any more resistance, simply trailing behind her as she tries to find a pocket of space for them among the moving bodies. As she walks she feels her blood rushing to her head. She’s feeling too tipsy and woozy for the amount of alcohol she’s consumed; and whatever hopes the whole thing had been in her head crumble like sandcastles at the sensation of her bambi legs. But she has her way out caught in a deathgrip by the wrist, she can still get out unscathed.

As soon as she finds space for them, she stops and turns around to face him, getting close in his space to be heard over the loud music. She wraps Oscar’s arm she’d been tugging on, around her waist, in hopes he can hold her up in case her legs give out and wraps hers around his body too.

She can feel Oscar’s hand in her back, blindly trying to find a patch of fabric to settle on top of. His avoidance of the naked skin of her back settles a minute worry in her mind. Yes, he is a man. Yes, she would probably feel more comfortable coming to her own teammate for help. But Oscar is still safe, he won’t take advantage of her. He is safety.

“Are you sober?” Is the first thing that comes out of her mouth once they’ve settled their positions and start to loosely sway to the beat of whatever song is playing.

Oscar is looking more and more confused at the sudden serious tone of her voice and the way it contradicts the easy smile on her face. She’s still acting up like nothing’s wrong. “Uhh yeah, I came in my car.”

Oscar you blessed man.

“Great! I need you to take me to the hospital right now.” Oscar freezes completely and she tries to keep the easy smile on her face. “Someone put something in my drink and I think I’m going to pass out soon.” His face does something complicated, and one of his hands tries to go for the cup on her hand, but she moves it out of his path, tripping over her own heel in the process. He catches her before she can stumble.

“Why are you still-?” He looks tense in a way she hasn’t seen him many times, he instantly understood the seriousness the situation entails. She’s so glad he believed her, a worry she hadn’t even processed having.

Her confidence starts waving, there is not much time to explain and her voice shakes as she tries to fill him in. “You have to take it- I- I don’t know what they put in- The doctor can… I don’t know-” She feels like she's twelve again, trying to explain to her mother that she accidentally broke her favourite mirror and cut her hand. “They can analyse it or whatever,” she finishes lamely. 

She can see it more clearly now, he’s not just tense, he’s angry. At her or on her behalf? She doesn’t know him well enough to be able to tell the difference.

“You’re so…” Careless. Irresponsible. Stupid. Her eyes fill with tears and he feels like a scolded child. “... smart.” He says instead, not following the script in her mind.

“I kno- Wait what?” He shakes his head, moving past the topic. His voice holds urgency now. 

“Do you know who did it?” He’s looking past her, scanning the crowd behind her.

“No I- There was no one near except the bartenders… I-I didn’t know if they-  A-and I didn’t know who to ask for help!” She sniffs, and clears her throat, swallowing around the tightness in her throat.

He notices her trying to maintain her composure, and smoothes out his expression. “It’s alright. You found me, and I will help you, okay?” In a very unlike-himself moment he wraps his arms closer to her, holding her in a loose hug. Maybe it’s the relief that comes from Oscar’s reassurance that makes her body relax, loosen up. She takes the moment to really get a deep breath, trying to regulate her heart rate, knowing an accelerated heartbeat will only speed the effect of the drug. The music is already hard to hear even with how the deep base thrums in her bones. She lets her head fall forward onto his shoulder and Oscar’s arms tighten around her like a vice, but when she stays standing up he relaxes. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” She’s pretty sure she just gave him a small heart attack, but she can’t really find the strength to apologize, so she simply takes another deep breath, this time taking in the smell of his cologne, and nods her head. 

She steps back, trying to maintain balance on the small heels of her shoes, and allows Oscar to grab her arm to guide them through the crowd. It’s a bit scary, how fast she seems to be falling under the effects. What would she have done had Oscar not been there? 

Oscar is aggressively polite as he makes a path for them towards the exit, loudly excusing them as he pushes through. She walks behind him, gaze set on his broad shoulders. They’re almost out of the crowd when she feels a hand closing in on her arm. She flinches and removes her arm before they can grasp her, and steps even closer to Oscar, almost stepping on his heels. “Oscar-” She manages in a squeaky voice, but he must hear her because he holds together and broathens his stride. The hands do not follow, only shoulder bumps as they make their way though. 

They get out the doors in no time. The space outside is deserted, late enough that everyone is either at home asleep or inside the club. Oscar turns to her, scans her and points toward the side street that she assumes would lead them around the building towards the private parking lot. “My car’s this way.” She briefly looks back to the doors, but they stay closed so she nods. Maybe the hand was her imagination, or a simple accidental brush of a hand. 

Her steps are still mostly steady but Oscar still keeps a hand on her left forearm, the warmth from his hand is a stark contrast to the cold air of the Monegasque night. The sweat that had layered over her body is cooling off rapidly as they round the building and by the time they’ve walked the length of the side street and caught sight of the actual parking lot, shivers have started to rack her up.

Oscar briefly lets go of her arm to fish the keys from his pocket and she instantly misses the warmth. Now untethered she slows her walking, paying a bit more attention to where she’s placing her feet. He clicks off the alarm and the navy blue McLaren Artura at the other end blinks its lights at them. “There’s our ride.” Oscar is smiling as he looks back, extending his arm for her again, but his eyes stray over her shoulder and the expression freezes in his face. 

A hand wraps on the arm that Oscar hadn’t been holding and it feels nothing like the Australian's careful and grounding hold. It burns as it takes a bruising hold of her and tugs her to the side. She stumbles with the force of it, body already feeling too close to a ragdoll to comfort. Her voice is strong but not steady as she demands, “Let me go.” She tries to back away from the foreign body, but her ankle gives up and twists painfully. She stumbles but holds her stance and tries to push away from the nasal french voice speaking at her in a sultry voice. The arm that had been trying to push away from the tall man gets caught from the wrist. The drink sloshes and some of it spills over her fingers and onto her dress. 

Just as he’s starting to use his weight against her, a body steps in between them. She collides with Oscar’s shoulder a bit, but her right arm is freed, and she pulls it back towards her. “Get your fucking hands off.” She has never heard him sound so angry. His accent has deepened like she’s never heard before. But he is still gentle as he wraps a hand firmly on her left arm. She can feel him pulling the guy’s hand and prying his fingers open to release her. She uses his back to support herself as she helps pull her arm free from those thick fingers. 

Once freed she stumbles back again, but the Aussie has a firm hold on her and keeps her upright. The guy tries to go around Oscar to get her again, and over the driver’s shoulder she looks at his face for the first time as Oscar pushes firmly with his forearm to keep him away. Tan complexion, prince-y dark hair and a well groomed beard. 

In any other circumstance she would have said he was attractive, but now she can only feel nauseous at the fake nonchalant smile the guy is sporting. With her muddled brain she half understands he’s trying to excuse this as a misunderstanding. He catches the words ‘friend’, ‘together’, ‘mine’ and ‘drunk’. She has no idea if Oscar even understands what the guy is saying, but he seems set on getting him away from her. 

After a more forceful shove that makes the assailant stumble back, Oscar looks over his shoulder and lets go of her, pushing her towards the parking lot. “Get in the car.”

She nods dumbly as she turns in the direction where the lights flashed earlier. The parking lot is only mildly illuminated, but it’s enough for her to be able to locate the Artura among the other luxury cars parked there. There are more confrontation sounds coming from behind, and what sounds very much like a hit, but she doesn’t look back. All her attention and remaining brain power is going to try to reach the car at the end of the parking lot. Her right ankle throbs painfully with each step, and the uneven terrain makes it three times harder, because when the fuck did the pavement turn to gravel?

She leans on a pink Porshe 911 as her legs buckle, the McLaren is right there. There’s the sound of another car starting up, more yelling but she’s already rounding it from behind towards the passenger door. The sound of angry screeching tyres spinning out without traction in the gravel grinds her head and the pain in her ankle is too much; her right leg gives out completely, the other one follows shortly and she’s going down. She tries to drag her hand on the car to find a purchase on something but there’s nothing other than the squeak of her sweaty hand on the polished paint. Her knees take the brunt of the impact, and it stings.

The angry car has sped off, and she’s pretty sure she hears it clip the wall of the sidestreet. She takes a deep breath and lets herself fall seated against the car, knees to her chest, back to the door. Dumly, she notes that the cup still has some liquid on it, its red is just as dark in the low light as the small pinpricks of blood on her knees.

She registers footsteps getting closer to her, and for a second her heart rate speeds up again until she hears her name called by a worried Australian. She bangs her head against the door, willing herself to keep her eyes open as she answers back. Oscar’s footsteps speed up and in no time he’s kneeling in front of her, warm hands on her biceps as he looks over her body. He brings a hand to remove stray pieces of hair from her face and she can see a hint of blood on his knuckles.

“Are you okay?” The words are out of her mouth before she can stop them.

🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎

Oscar cannot believe his ears. “How am- Are you forreal?” An incredulous chuckle escapes him because this girl, shivering on the floor with scraped knees and blown out pupils, who almost got kidnapped by a stranger in a foreign country, is more worried about him than about herself. He shakes his head and wipes his knuckles, showing her the unbroken skin. “I’m alright, see?” Her eyes scan his hand for a second too long before nodding. Her head bobs in a sleepy manner, and he knows he has to hurry. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired,” She’s breathing heavily, but Oscar can’t be sure if it’s an after effect of whatever drug the asshole put in her drink or the exertion of the situation. “My ankle hurts,” He looks down at her feet, still clad in heeled slippers with a complicated ribbon. Neither of her feet looks particularly swollen or bruised for now. “I’m scared…” Her voice is much softer, almost a whisper, but in the emptiness of the parking lot at night, it almost seems to echo. 

He grabs her arms again, rubbing up and down “It’s okay, it’s over now.” She keeps shivering under his arms and Oscar doesn’t know if it’s the cold or shock starting to settle in, “Can you walk?”

Her eyebrows furrow and she tilts her head in a terribly adorable gesture, “Walk where?”

“We need to get you into the car”

“But-” She slaps the back of her hand against the car, “I’m here”

Oscar can’t suppress the smile, “Yeah, but unless you’re planning on driving, we need to get you around the passenger side.”

“... Fuck.” 

“Force of habit, yeah.” He grabs onto her forearms. Her skin feels cold and sticky with dried sweat. “Come on, let’s get you up.” She pulls alongside him, but as soon as her right foot is firm on the ground, she makes a face and he takes more of her weight as she falters, her other leg not cooperating much. 

“Oscar” The slugginess in her voice makes the R in his name sound much breathier. “I don’t think I can walk.”

“Alright, well-” He bends down and swipes her legs off the floor, holding her in a princess's carry. She makes a strangled sound and her arms come to grab at his shoulders. The cup tilts dangerously but she rights it just in time. “Much easier this way.” He makes his way over to the passenger seat and bends his knees to open up the door, depositing her in the seat. “Ah look!” Wedged right in between the seat and the door, is a hoodie he’d abandoned maybe a few days ago. He pulls it and sets it on her lap, taking the cup from her hand. “Think you can get it on by yourself?”

“Mm-hm”

“‘kay, you do that while I figure out where to keep this.” He closes the door and rounds the car again to his seat, looking around the small space to find a safe place to place it without spilling what little liquid remains on it. As his companion wrestles with the fabric, she kicks an abandoned water bottle. “Bingo.” He leans down to grab it. A small shake reveals to still have stale water he poured out of the window before pouring in the remaining cocktail into it. He screws the lid back on and keeps the cup too, just in case. He drops both items in the footrest of the passenger before looking at the occupant. She’s relaxed into the seat, and her eyes are closed. Fear creeps in for a second, “Ready to go?”

thumbs-upHe gets a thumbs up in response. Still conscious it seems. He reaches over and pulls her seatbelt on, knowing he will ignore all speed limits to the hospital. After a second of consideration, he shakes her arm until she’s blinking up at him. “Try to stay awake, yeah?” He grabs his phone, to call Lando. It hasn’t been longer than 10 minutes since he left their table, but he needs someone to call the police on the guy, and let Lando know he needs to get a new ride. He looks at his companion, she’s looking at his phone as it rings in his lap. “If you feel like throwing up let me know, yeah?” He says as he pulls out of the parking lot.

“m’not throwing up.” Her angry eyebrows are back. 

“Okay, then you can help me explain to Lando-” Just then, the Brit’s voice comes through the car speakers.

“Heeellooo? Mate did you get lost on your way back or what?” He’s half yelling to hear himself over the music. It’s a miracle he even heard his phone ring.

“No, I’m taking the Alpine princess to the hospital.” He sneaks a look at her as he accelerates down the narrow monaco streets. She’s still awake, biting her lip as Lando processes the words.

“You what! What happened!? The fuck Oscah?”

He’s about to start explaining, but she speaks up “Some guy spiked my drink, I found Oscar and he got me out.” He has to keep his eyes on the road, but he can see out of the corner of his eye how she cuddles up into the seat. “I’m alright… Pinky promise.”

“Lando, listen, I need you to get Charles to call the police.” The traffic light up ahead has turned yellow, but Oscar doesn’t slow down. It’s the middle of the night and there are no other cars around, so he floors it right as it turns red. “I’ll give you a description, and his license plate. I need you to report him to authorities.”

“Fuck.” He says, eloquently. “Yeah I-” There’s a bit of silence from him, but the music is still humming loudly in the background. “I think I see Charles upstairs, I’ll go get him now.” Oscar can hear him speaking to someone, but it’s muffled like he lowered the phone. Almost a full two minutes later he speaks up again. “Kay, got Charles and Pierre here. They want to know if you’re really okay, sprout?”

Oscar is slowing down for a curve. Because as much as he would love to go as fast as during the actual race, he doesn’t know these streets as well, so he has to be careful. The silence stretches for too long, and as he turns to look at her again, he finds her completely asleep. 

“Shit, she passed out.” He presses harder on the gas pedal, Lando curses too. “He tried to grab her when we were getting to the parking lot. She twisted her ankle and scraped her knees, but other than that, she’s physically alright.” Streets and buildings blur as he speeds by. “Asshole was as tall as George or Alex. Lanky and tan. Dark hair, beard. I broke his nose, and probably his cheekbone before he ran away.” As he approaches a speed bump, he throws his hand over her chest to prevent her from flying around. 

This time it’s a new voice, Charles “He took off running?” 

“No, in a car. Porsche 911 Turbo S, Dark green.”

“Did you get the license plate?”

Of course I did, who do you think I am? 

“M3T9. He busted a backlight as he drove off, if that helps.”

“I will get on it, do not worry he will not get away.” Despite the noise, Oscar can hear how dark Charles’ voice becomes, and he remembers that Charles is a very prominent figure here; the prince of Monaco who is friends with the actual prince of Monaco.

“I’ll leave you to take care of him, then.”

“Yes yes, I will get him. You just get the petite poupée to the doctors, yes?” He has no idea what that means but it sounds like an affectionate nickname.

Oscar nods to himself in the car, “We’re already here, she’ll be alright” He can see the URGENCES sign of the Centre Hospitalier Princesse Grace. He eases his foot off the pedal, as he turns into the mostly empty parking lot.

“Keep us updated!”

“Will do.” 

The call disconnects and he’s left to pick a parking space that isn’t reserved for ambulances. Once he’s turned everything off, he turns to her and shakes her arm, calling her name to try and wake her up, but it’s futile. She’s breathing deeply, sound asleep. He rounds the car and opens her door. He leans over her legs to grab the bottle and scoop under her knees and in the process he discovers she did not manage to get both her arms though the sleeves of his hoodie, and that her right is still tangled inside. He almost huffs a laugh at that. Almost.

Picking her up again feels different than when he did it 10 minutes ago, because her body is too lax, too malleable. This time she makes no sound when he hoists her up, and her head lulls back, stretching her neck over the arm he has under her shoulders. She looks and feels like a ragdoll in his arms as he stands up and uses his elbow to drag the door down and closed; he quietly seethes at the thought of her being like this in the hands of such a vermin. 

How anyone could find such an unresponsive body attractive is a question he doesn’t even want to think of. Instead he stops to adjust her neck, letting her head rest on his collarbone instead of the previous uncomfortable position and fixes the hood over her head to cover up her face. It is the middle of the night, but he has learnt that every wall has eyes and that everything can and will be posted online. He has nothing to hide his face with, but protecting her identity in a moment of such vulnerability is his only priority in his mind after getting her help.

He’s careful of pushing the doors with his shoulder. The reception is empty except for the receptionist behind the desk. He sighs inwardly at that. The woman looks up and stands up immediately upon his arrival at the desk, his French skills are nonexistent, so he wholeheartedly hopes she understands English. “We were at a club and someone put drugs in her drink.” The woman nods once, so Oscar takes that as a sign that she does and continues. “She passed out in the car while driving here, like five minutes ago.” He’s not as oblivious as to think he looks innocent holding a dead looking girl, and the face of the woman, carefully stoic, sets his nerves on fire.

“Did she say what was put in it or who did it?”

 “No, but she asked me to bring what was left of the drink, because she said you could analyse it to treat her,” He sets the bottle on the counter and hikes her up in his arms. “She’d thought it was one of the bartenders, but as we were getting to the car the guy came and tried to take her by force.” He omits the part where he punched him and instead lets his trump card subtly show. “My friend Charles has already called the police to report the assault.” Despite how common it is, the name must register in her mind, because she makes a double take, between Oscar’s face and the face half hidden in his chest. “Please help her,” 

“Of course we will help.” She shakes her head like the thought of them refusing attention was a personal offence. She presses a button behind the counter and rounds the desk to take a better look at the girl in his arms. She produces a penlight from a pocket and gestures towards her. Oscar twists to allow her to get closer. “How long ago did she consume the drink?”

“Uh…” The nurse opens one of her eyelids and flashes her light, studying pupil reaction. “I have no idea, she found me around 15 or 20 minutes ago, she’d already realised by then and didn’t drink the rest of it, but I don’t know how long it was.” He can hear footsteps from behind, another nurse is coming from the personal hallway. “She started shivering too, but I don't know if it was cold or shock. I gave her my hoodie and it has stopped now, at least.”

The woman nods, and as the new nurse comes closer, she starts -hopefully- translating what he’s said in rapid French. It’s like watching Charles, Pierre and Lance gossip during drivers’ parade. The bottle is handed too, and when the exchange ends, the new nurse takes a cursory look, stops at Oscar’s face and mumbles something back before continuing their path towards the next hallway.

“We will get a room set up for her, do you want me to bring a wheelchair in the meantime?”

“No, I’m alright.” She’s deadweight, but not as heavy as Oscar would have imagined, he’s also trained enough during his life, he can hold a few more minutes. The receptionist goes back around the desk and starts asking questions about her for what Oscar assumes is a registry sheet. A new concern sparks in his mind, and he accidentally interrupts one of her questions with his own request. “I don’t know if I’ll be allowed to stay with her, but could you at least make sure she doesn’t get a male doctor?”

Her serious and stoic facade falls at that, and for a second she reminds Oscar of his own mum. “I’ll make sure of that, and I do think you might be able to stay with her. It’ll help her to see a familiar face waking up.” She gives him a reluctant smile and resumes asking if he knows her blood type. 

The other nurse comes back just as they’re finishing, and leads him to a room where they’ll be treating her. As he lowers her from his arm, he remembers to mention a detail he’d forgotten. “Hey, uh- Her ankle… She said it hurt, and might have twisted it.” 

The nurse nods, and answers in a much more prominent accent. “We will take x-ray of it. Your hand is okay?” 

Oscar looks back to his hand. There’s redness on his knuckles and a bruise is starting to form around the bones, but he flexes his fingers a couple of times and it only stings a bit. “No, I’m okay, thanks.”

“Okay, now you wait outside, I call when ready, yes?”

“Yeah, thank you.” 

He closes the door behind him and walks to a nearby bench, using the time to update Lando via text. In return he gets told that Charles stormed off the bar, Pierre, Carlos and Daniel in tow. The rest of them are deciding how to carpool home; and that everyone will keep the situation under wraps, including whoever Charles has contacted. He says that Alex will be stopping by the hospital soon, to drop off her forgotten bag and phone and whatever else she’s left at their table.

The receptionist nurse passes by Oscar in the way to her room and lets him know they’ll take her for an x-ray; and that after that, he might wait inside her room if he wishes, in turn he lets her know he will jump out for a second because another friend will bring her stuff from the bar. The woman nods and gives him the number of the room they will take her after the x-ray for him to come back. 

His phone rings just as they’re rolling her bed out. He only catches a glimpse of an IV line connected to her arm before they wheel her down the corridor, he too turns away. 

Alex is waiting with his emergency lights on. When he sees him come out of the doors, he gives him a tired smile. Oscar leans against the door and they stay in silence for a while. It’s colder out now, or at least it feels like that now that adrenaline is no longer coursing through him. The light sweat he’d worked up earlier is drying cold against his back. He raps his knuckles against the blue paint of Alex’s car, bringing the Thai’s attention to his bruised hand.

“I heard you broke his nose?” Alex’s tone is teasing, if maybe a bit impressed.

“Got a couple hits, yeah.” Oscar closes his fist, the skin tightens over his bones. The memory of a bone cracking under them probably shouldn’t feel as satisfactory as it did. “Should’ve done more.” 

It comes much more bitterly than he’d expected, and Alex places a hand over his wrist, patting him “You did more than any of us, don’t beat yourself up.” He reaches to the passenger seat and pulls a small handbag and Oscar spots a jacket hung behind the seat. “You cold?” Alex must have seen his eyes stray, and as he pulls it from its perch Oscar notices the Williams logo on it.

“Nah mate, I’d rather be cold.”

“Ah, come on I can’t let the boy saviour freeze tonight.”

“No, no, never in a million years you’ll catch me wearing Williams merch,” He grabs the handbag and steps away when Alex tries to push the jacket into his arms too. They’re both laughing as the jacket falls to the ground and Alex is left half hanging off his window to grab it. Oscar watches him struggle for a second or five before deciding to have mercy; so he grabs the jacket and stuffs it in Alex’s face, turns on his back and starts walking back to the doors so he can’t attempt to hand it to him again.

“Oscar!” Alex calls between fabric and laughter, and Oscar turns just in time to catch a juice bottle headed straight to his face. A second one follows right after, he fumbles with it since both his hands are occupied, but he manages not to drop it, Alex snaps his fingers in faux frustration at that. “Take care of her!” He says as he starts his car again.

“Will do, mate.” He watches as Alex drives away until his tailgate lights disappear behind a wall, just then he turns back into the hospital. As he makes his way back, he rearranges the stuff in his hands; he holds the purse under his arm since it doesn’t have any straps, and studies the bottles. Alex had gotten orange and apple. 

Which one would she prefer?

He has no idea, really. He always sees her drinking either water, isotonic drinks, or energy drinks. Apples or oranges? There is a new receptionist at the desk, and when Oscar rattles the new room number, he is directed to the elevators with instructions to the second floor where lower grade emergencies are treated.

He only has to wait around 10 more minutes before she’s wheeled back in. The initial receptionist seems to be the one assigned to her, as she is the one that stays and explains to Oscar that there isn’t any fracture in the ankle. It seems like just her soft tissue was affected and she’ll get by with wearing a brace and sports tape for a few days. The lower half of her body is covered by the sheets while his hoodie covers the rest. One of the sleeves has been pushed up to make space for the IV, and Oscar can see that her foot is resting on a couple of pillows to keep it raised. Her shoes are in a little cubby under the bed, cubby to which he adds her purse.

He gets told there isn’t much they can do about the drug except keep her hydrated and let her body work it though, because it has already been absorbed by her bloodstream, along with the alcohol she’d consumed. But that the sample analysis revealed it to be non-threatening, it’ll just leave her with a nasty hangover. Despite the slight pessimistic tone, the information leaves him relieved, and he relaxes into the chair he’d sat to wait. He thanks the nurse and watches as a new person in different colored scrubs, carefully and efficiently wraps her ankle in neon blue sports tape.

Before long, he’s left alone with her, with instructions of pressing the call button if anything happens, but to try and rest because it could be hours before she wakes.

He tries to keep himself busy whilst keeping an eye on her. He messages Charles with the name of the drug that was put onto the drink, and the only answer he gets is a demon emoji, a fist emoji, hands clapping and another fist. Confused, he simply reacts with a thumbs up. He updates those who have messaged him to ask about her condition, but doesn’t go further than that. He settles on drinking the orange juice, and leaves the apple one in the bedside table next to her bed, scrolls through social media for a while and checks up on her again, but it has been a long and eventful day, and when his eyelids become too heavy, he doesn't fight them very hard.

🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎🏎

Waking up feels like a heavy G crash. There's a pounding in her head that goes at the same tempo as her heart, and it takes conscious effort to take a deep breath. There's a slight throbbing on her bicep, on the wrist of the opposite arm and a sharper throb on her right foot.

She's laying sideways in a soft enough bed and there is little light from what she can see through her eyelids. 

But it doesn't smell like her bed at all.

Instead there's the smell of a different laundry detergent, artificial minty eucalyptus shampoo and a herbal mix. It smells distinctly like men, and the unfamiliarity of it makes her heart race, worsening the pounding of her head.

There's a blank in her memory when she tries to remember the previous night. She knows she was going out with some of the Monaco based drivers, and that she'd abandoned the table at some point. That's where everything starts to get fuzzy. 

There are flashes. 

A body close to hers in the dancefloor. The cold air outside the club. Falling into the gravel. Hands roughly grabbing at her, and a french accent. Falling asleep in a car.

Panic really does settle in at this point, and tears blurry her vision when she opens her eyes; but the room is nothing like she expects it to be. She's in a single bed, and there is a heart monitor that is displaying her rabbiting heartbeat. A saline drip that is halfway empty connected to the back of her hand.

A hospital?

The light is warm and dimmed, seemingly coming from a lamp behind her. She looks down at herself and finds a hoodie that is not hers, and totally is the source of the smells; but looking under it’s collar reveals the same dress she wore last night.

She slowly turns her head, still wary of the raging headache. The overhead lights are off, and her foot is propped on a pillow under the blankets. She wiggles her toes and twists her ankle. A sharp pain sparks, but it's not unbearable.

The other side of the room is half hidden by the glare of the lamp that makes her blink before her eyes adjust to the light.

A figure is sitting in a chair, sound asleep and covered with a blanket identical to hers. Oscar’s arms are crossed across his chest and his neck looks like it will hurt when he wakes up. 

More memories rush to her mind as she turns fully to that side; Lando's voice over the speakers of the car, Oscar's worried face in the dancefloor, his broad back as he pushed another man from her. The light is low, but she can see a bruise forming on the hand where Oscar is holding a half full bottle of juice. 

Slowly, she registers the smell of stale car and something so uniquely Oscar that brings tears back to her eyes.

“Oscar?” Her voice is low, croaky and shaky, full of tears when she speaks. But the reaction is immediate, he's awake in a second. His head snaps back into the right orientation and he clutches the bottle in his hand. Maybe she should feel guilty for waking him up, but that is a too complicated emotion to think of right now, instead there is a pool of relief as he meets her eyes, and an immense amount of trust as he whispers her name and detangles himself from the blanket to get close.

“You're okay, you're okay.” It's obvious he doesn't know what to do about tears, his hands move around uselessly and he looks so constipated it's almost funny. “Are you hurt anywhere? I can- I can call a nurse?” His hand finally decides to hover over a call button at the side of her bed, but she claps hers over his instead, and attempts to dry her face with the other.

“No, it's okay. I'm- I'm okay,” She hiccups again, and his other hand comes to rub up and down her arm; an action that also feels familiar and warm. “Thank you, Oscar.” Her voice is still choked up, but very earnest. She squeezes his hand and he squeezes right back. 

“You don't have to thank me,” She wipes her eyes again and looks back up at him, he's giving her a half smile that pushes a dimple into existence. It's such an adorable new discovery that she can't help the rush of emotions that comes. She lets go of his hand and sits up to pull him into a hug.

“The fuck you mean i don't have to thank you!?” It sounds half muffled against the fabric of his white shirt. “You saved my fucking life, Oscar” His hands come to wrap around her back and tears spring up again at the thought of what could have been. “He could've-”

“Shhh, let's not think about that, yeah? You're alright and that's what matters.” His hands rub circles between her shoulders, “Charles took care of everything else.”

“What’s that mean?” She sniffs, trying to keep the tears from soaking up his shirt.

“I have absolutely no idea, but he knows people who can hide his crimes, I'm not worried about him.” I'm worried about you, “How are you feeling?”

She takes another deep breath. The smell of eucalyptus and laundry detergent is stronger when it comes from the source. She lets go and wipes her face again with the sleeve of her -his- hoodie. “My head hurts and my ankle stings, but I'm alright,” Thanks to you. “I just feel very hungover.”

“Here,” She hears the shake of liquid, and upon removing her hands, Oscar's is offering an unopened bottle of apple juice. “Alex got us these.”

She grabs it and pouts at him, “It's my favourite. Thank you.” The last line comes out more charged than intended, but that's alright because she doesn't think she'll be able to stop thanking him anytime soon.

Oscar simply smiles like he knows, he lightly shakes his head and starts filling her in on what happened after she “fell asleep” as he says. She has no idea what time it is, but there is no rush right now, she's safe and in good hands, and when sleep starts lapping at her feet, she lets herself be swiped by the tide because she trusts Oscar to be there when she wakes up again.

The end.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · · 𖥸 · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

well, if you got here, i want to thank you for reading this the whole way through. as i said earlier, this came to me at 3 am and did not leave my head again, so i had to bring it to life. i hope you enjoyed despite the slightly dark topic.

from my research, i learned that not some drugs are undetectable to the naked eye, so always be aware of your drinks and who is close to you. i hope this story stays as a fictional thing and that none of you ever have to deal with something like that.

taka care and thank you again for reading!

Love,

Nini.

[on-this-day-mcr]

So long and goodnight ✩

Today is the one year anniversary of the day after the swarm tour ended, which also makes it the one year anniversary of this blog. For the most part, there are no more scheduled posts in the queue.

A couple of dates had already passed by the time I could verify them - I will schedule these as they come up, as well as making posts for anything new I find, updates/corrections to existing posts, and new events or releases. My inbox will stay open for any requests for dates to be added, as well as any corrections or sources to be added (thank you to the people who have sent these through in the past!). I'm not currently planning on scheduling reblogs of existing posts for future anniversaries, but I'm open to it if enough people would like that :)

I'm going to get a bit sappy now, so this last bit is really optional reading material. I truly wasn't expecting this blog to be anything more than some silly fun when I made it, but reading through people's memories of shows, releases and announcements in the tags has been more touching and meaningful than I expected. My Chemical Romance is a band, but like most things worth caring about My Chemical Romance is also an idea built out of human connection and shared experiences. The swarm era would never have meant as much as it did without every person who reached out a hand to share a piece of what MCR means to them, through their tags or art or jokes or song covers or archives or webweaves or 3am liveblogs of 12 pixel instagram livestreams. Thank you for being here with me, and for making something beautiful. 🖤

[oneknightstand-if]

Thank you much for answering so many asks, I love coming back every 4hrs to see what's new 💕

How would the ROs react to a sick MC stuck in bed with a high fever?

The queue is finally back down to slightly over a week, so the 3AM slot should be dropped by the time this posts. Although it's not 3AM in most of the world at the moment....

The section I just wrote (and am currently code checking) actually directly references this... the awakened Harbingers are immune to Pestilence. Which means no more normal sicknesses for them.

So, assuming the MC got chewed on by a demon and is sleeping it off after getting healed...

Merlin: The one who did said healing. They know that they're not the best of healers (it's just one of the many, many things they can fill in for in a pinch), so they're fussing around a bit to make sure everything went smoothly.

Adrian: Reading a book by the MC's side. Won't be leaving until MC wakes up.

Arthur: Is the one who told Merlin to keep an eye on the MC while he's out killing said demons who did this.

Percy: You now have a spring onion in your bed. It's up to you to decipher the meaning behind this.

4̸0̵4̵ ̴E̷r̴r̷o̴r̴ ̷N̵o̵t̵ ̵F̸o̴u̵n̷d̴: Uh... early on they're more likely to be the reason the MC ended up in that bed in the first place.

Cassandra: Has snuck in to make certain that Merlin's magic actually worked and no other steps need to be taken.

Gwen: Flustering by the bed. (Or in the bed too if she's the main RO, because in that case the demon would've nommed on her too)

Vivian: If she's here then the MC is not in bed. She is the proper healer that Merlin isn't.

Lorelei: Is off with Arthur on a demon-kicking rampage.

Broderick: He's obviously also getting his beauty sleep since there's just as obviously nothing he can do here (and by that I mean he only gets up once or thrice to check on the limb that got chewed in)

[infernalpursuit]

[ idk how much ill be online btw. ]

Stayed up until 3am and woke up at 7:40 to see election results and it pissed me tf off. If theres queue here ill let it post whatever but I need to stay away less to avoid doomscrolling and more because im this close to break.

Please stay safe out there

[seekerwingzcg]

ℂ𝕠𝕞𝕞𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕆𝕡𝕖𝕟

❤✅✅❤

INTRO POST and COMMISSION INFO:

Commission info:

Hi, I'm Chloe! I've never had a nickname. Nothing ever stuck.

I'm a depressed 29 year old housewife that writes and draws robots (mostly of the 18+ variety).

I go by she/they and don't really mind what pronouns you use for me. I'm kind of feeling very genderless recently so eh.

I'm mainly here to show my odd/silly art and writing to like-minded weirdos in search of the things I keep in this dumpster, here. I also like to reblog what others are up to.

I do fanart and fanfiction, but I do have mental health issues that causes me to go through lapses of my own content. Therefore, I'll only reblog one thing a day in really bad times. I tend to queue something every hour from 9AM-Midnight, but not always (and sometimes I'm a cryptid and go crazy posting at 3AM).

On a positive note, I try to post one artwork/Story Chapter once a week-month depending on the detail put into each work. (Starting 9/21/24)

I'm not one to show off, so I tend to just not notice/ignore hate, but criticism is welcome. I am learning, after all. I went through 5+ years without drawing or writing and am just now getting back into the swing of things :)

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ I post a large amount of watersports-esque content because I'm just kinda gross so be prepared for that.

All Naughty content is described above a [more] tab and is tagged "valveplug" Due to Tumblr's rules, tagging will be slightly altered so read them before viewing unless you want a nasty surprise.

And I'm obsessed with Megatron. I hadn't mentioned that, yet.

About writing! My fics reflect my art and so-on and are almost always links to Archive of Our Own. My username is Peace_Through_Empthy and is in my bio.

(Currently doing emergency coms to survive the holidays) I don't do commissions, exactly, but if you'd like to donate a bit for a request occasionally, I'll be setting that up soon. I'm dirt poor and love a coffee every now and then.

Go ahead and enjoy this weird robot hell dotted with things that are occasionally unexpected

... And did I mention I'm obsessed with Megatron...?

[haveyouseenthishorrormovie]

Hey! Love the blog and you guys are doing an excellent job, I love the commentary & am learning about a lot of cool movies I've never heard of. I was just wondering, I submitted a movie called Delicatessen a while back but it never showed up & is not in the waiting list. I wasn't sure if it got lost in the shuffle or if it was just too on-the-fringes of horror to be considered horror. Thanks!

It actually did got a little bit forgotten after it went into "does this count?" list! Was thinking about it this other day again. The main reason I put it into question mark list was because by the first glance it didn't seem "horror enough." Was meant to look more into it but then kind of forgotten. I'll look into it again soon and put it in the queue if finding it fitting enough! (eating people most likely will make it count.)

Other movies that got accidentally forgotten in the "does this count?" list:

Confluence (2011) (Mod L says it's horror so) Delicatessen (1991) Paradise Hills (2019) Fall (2022) (Probably will get into queue, thriller) Donnie Darko (2001) (I completely forgot about this one) Other reasons to not be in queue yet Mermaid in a Manhole - Mod Sus saw this request at 3am and was way too exhausted to deal with it yet and it got left behind. Will be added most likely Faces of Death - Legality/Documentary?

There's also two shadow asks in our inbox that we are unable to see or get out, so if you have sent us a movie request but we haven't given any indication about it yet, you can request it again in this post replies!

[stars-and-lines]

(ooc)

Ahhhhhhh okay - Couple of things!!

First and foremost, my name is Snow (@snowpearart), and I've been a huge fan of Starline ever since earlyyy 2023? Around then. Something like this was inevitable.

Second thing would be thank you all for reading?! This has been so much fun to work on and queue up (thank u queue function for posting at 3am so I don't actually have to stay up that late! =u=), and reading and replying to the asks has been so fun and entirely worth this whole endeavour.

Third would be a bit of background? Why this. Back in late summer 2023, I wanted to do something with Starline, and landed on an ask blog. I like a good story, and while an ask blog would be fun, I did want to have some sort of arc in mind, and since I usually have difficulty keeping up with writing (I cannot write fics!), I picked a story that already has a beginning, middle and end, but from his POV.

The info-gathering process beforehand (and during in some cases! I'm looking at you, Imposter Syndrome) was a bit of an undertaking, having to reread arcs, study panels, keep documents of timelines and track character motivations. It included a lot of working backwards. I am bad at reading comics. But it was fun! It's been so rewarding to study this character and understand what makes him tick. I'm normal about him <3

Lastly is... where to go from here! I currently have three options:

do nothing lol. Let the blog sit as a standalone cool thing I did.

turn it into a regular Starline ask blog! This allows me to still play in character without too much work or time commitment (I am very busy).

write a new arc. Through RP I've gotten several ideas that I could run with, and if anyone knows me or peeks at my art blog, they'll see where I would want to take the story next.

wait until the very very very small off chance that Starline returns to IDW and write that from his perspective -

I'm currently leaning more toward 1 and 2. Ideally I would like pursue 3, but it seems very unlikely at the moment. Still! I would like to hear what y'all think. We should make a fan club -

Once again, thank you all so much for reading and going through this story with me one more time! <3

Until next time,

❄ Snow

[chosesun]

okay now that i'm done being a little silly and edited some icons ( i show you below dw dw ) i think i will head to bed. it's 3am and i'm tired. i will return tomorrow hopefully before work so i can knock out some more stuff. i have things in my queue that'll post throughout the day tomorrow so be prepared for some stuff to happen. goodnight.

as promised:

i love this silly little guy

[lutiaslayton]

Hey guys! Guess who's FINALLY done writing her thesis manuscript, who's finally freed from the nightmare that was getting it corrected by my three PhD directors who each had their own expectations piling onto each other's, getting it printed and mailed to her jury, and completing dozens of administration related details, and who is finally allowed to have some free time to rest after all that 👀 (PS: I have one week)

I know "I" have been posting ED chapters every week and reblogging others' stuff every now and then, but regarding the ED chapters it's really just been the queue doing all the work haha. I'd actually finished writing the translation all the way back in August and decided to post a chapter per week in anticipation for these tough times when I'd be virtually dead online, just so this blog would be on some sort of life support in the meantime. I've been editing the PREV/NEXT links as each chapter came out (sometimes a day or two late because I forgor), but other than that I've only been browsing tumblr as a half-brained shadow 🥲

All that being said — I need rest. I've stayed up late up to 2-3am working and writing and drawing graphs way more often than my body would have preferred, pulled at least one all-nighter, and lost literally all sense of time (well, more than usual that is). I'm kinda writing this with the only brain cell I have left right now lmao.

So. After working on it since April, I finished writing my thesis. 171 pages, 49409 words with even more text that has been written and then scrapped for the current version, 58 graphs, 20 tables, 165 references in the bibliography, and tons of equations. Whatever am I going to do now?

...write even more words, of course 🤭

I know there's a lot of translation work to do, a lot of other work elsewhere, and just thinking of looking at my to-do list is making my brain implode. And you'd think that after writing so much to the extent that my eyes started burning 24/7, I'd be sick of writing. But... strangely it's the opposite lmao

All that to say, SLS hasn't been updated since April 1st, and this needs to be fixed. I miss these dorks so much and I need some self-indulgent fanfiction writing after all this.

PS: I say I have one week to rest, because my PhD isn't over yet. I still have a scientific paper to start writing right after I come back from the grave (thankfully for that one I won't be the only one writing), and after that, I'll have my PhD defence planned for December 11. So yeah, I'm still not off the hook quite yet hahaha

[chloe-harassment-proof]

"Cry harder" please, you prey on underage users begging for nudes and then insult someone to call them a "Pedo" the next. I am crying from laughter at how stupid the hypocrisy is. If anything Chloe you're desensitizing us the more you do this. From other cases I have seen, she just acts like every DA pedo-harrassing troll with burner evade accounts. She is not the "unique" super villain she thinks she is. especially since I notice she strikes at 11am-3am my time that I see. Its like these are Queued at a particular time.

⛈

Most people have noticed she posts at certain times too. It's like clockwork. Although they get anons at that time so I don't think it's a queue maybe she just sets an alarm lmao