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clover-system · 5 months ago

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The longest list of anti-endo sources I've ever seen

While trying to find something else using Tumblr's infamous search engine, I came across this absolute gem:

NINE SOURCES!!! That's a record!! This is incredible!

@radpocalypse, listen. I am about to tear these to shreds, but before I do, I want you to know that you have my respect for not only compiling the longest list of sources I have ever seen an anti-endo provide, and not only doing so seemingly not directly prompted, but typing out every single link by hand, on mobile, without making a single mistake. Incredible work.

And also, to be completely honest, if I had nine sources supporting a belief, I almost certainly wouldn't look into them this closely. But, hey, that's what strangers on the internet with opposing views are for.

One more thing before the debunk: Endogenic systems do not claim to have DID etc. without trauma. They just don't. Whether it could be possible is often debated as an edge case, usually just to win an argument against someone of the opposing side, but really, it's irrelevant for 99% of the community. A good chunk are questioning OSDD based on later trauma, but as far as I am aware, no one on this website is claiming a completely endogenic plural disorder.

However, I don't want to dismiss entire pages based on this alone without further commentary, and it's a fun intellectual exercise regardless. So, whenever I use green text, I'm just playing Devil's Advocate under the premise of "If I was claiming to have DID without trauma (which neither I nor anyone else afaik is), would this source actually debunk that claim?" My syster will also occasionally pop in with purple, since she was cocon while I was writing this.

My dad just walked into my room and literally said "hey how it's going". You know, like. Like that one post. Amazing.

Anyway, civility established. Now come along with me on this long long journey of ten minutes of reading. Maybe put some music on in the background, if that will help you get through it. I had Near's Theme on while writing.

Here we go.

Link 1: McLean Hospital

Ok, main thing that caught my eye was

According to a 2010 Psychiatric Times article, only 5% of people with DID exhibit obvious switching between identity “states.”

Very interesting! Even with all of the "idk who's fronting" memes, 5% is really not that high. Though maybe online spaces like these help train the ability to identify it? The reference trail leads back to a book by Kluft but I don't really feel like going through dozens of pages for this. Definitely making a note of this though; I wonder if there have been any follow-up studies on this.

Not much to say here other than that. No mention of plurality outside DID.

DID is associated with long-term exposure to trauma, often chronic traumatic experiences during early childhood.

Dissociation—or disconnection from one’s sense of self or environment—can be a response to trauma.

Dissociative identity disorder—a type of dissociative disorder—most often develops during early childhood in kids who are experiencing long-term trauma. This typically involves emotional, physical, and/or sexual abuse; neglect; and highly unpredictable interactions with caregivers.

Why "associated", not "is caused by"? Why "can", not "is"? Why "most often", etc.?

Why such weak language?

Not that it couldn't be weaker.

I vaguely remember McLean getting into some hot water regarding a video they posted about DID, but didn't find anything concrete. Half-remembered anecdote aside, the author seems well-qualified.

C-tier debunk of this position. It's not nothing but it could be a lot better.

Link 2: Psych Central

It occurs in women 9 times more often than in men.

Very interesting statistic, but no citation provided.

Alters can show striking differences. For instance, one alter may speak with a different accent or have a softer way of speaking. They might have different opinions or a different gender identity, and even physical differences — like left- or right-handedness, or the need for a glasses prescription.

That's quite a stark difference here compared to the McLean article. What happened to "alters aren't that noticeable"?

But whatever, these are just interesting tidbits. None of this has anything to do with endogenic plurality. Nothing like "this is the only way to be multiple", no comment whatsoever.

DID is usually associated with adverse experiences in someone’s past and traumatic memories.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is a mental health condition with strong links to trauma, especially trauma in childhood.

Bruh. This again?

In fact, the American Psychiatric Association reports that 90% of people with DID have a history of childhood abuse and neglect, based on research from the United States, Canada, and Europe.

Bruh. Seriously? 90%? You know what that leaves, right?

According to your own source, 10% of DID systems are endogenic.

But let's break this down. There's a big difference between the system being endogenic, and the DID being endogenic. This statistic is specifically referring to childhood trauma.

The wording's plenty vague though. This can absolutely be read as completely endogenic DID.

One review article from 2017 about the causes of DID noted that there was relatively little research on the condition to date.

The authors said researchers hadn’t yet investigated potential genetic and epigenetic factors. With epigenetic factors, the experiences and behaviors of your parents and ancestors can influence the function of the genes they pass down to you.

The authors of the review said scientists needed to do more research to investigate whether a person with DID might carry genes that can influence if they develop the condition or not.

This is particularly promising because studies have already shown that genes can influence dissociative disorders in general.

So you're telling me DID might be able to be passed down one or two generations? Wow. Again, this still has nothing to do with endogenic plurality, but I'm really glad I decided to play with this second angle, because it's so much more fun. We're certainly not at intentional self-inflicted DID here, but we are at this point a long way from certainly needing childhood trauma in all cases.

And also the reviewer is a military psychiatrist who specializes in ADHD. So uh. Not bringing our best here.

Link 3: Mayo Clinic

Gotta love an article that's nice and short. This is just a brief summary of a bunch of dissociative disorders. Again, nothing about endogenic plurality.

Starting to run out of things to say about this. This whole post could probably be a fifth the length if I didn't feel like playing on hard mode.

Formerly known as multiple personality disorder, this disorder involves "switching" to other identities. You may feel as if you have two or more people talking or living inside your head. You may feel like you're possessed by other identities.

Each identity may have a unique name, personal history and features. These identities sometimes include differences in voice, gender, mannerisms and even such physical qualities as the need for eyeglasses.

Hey, that reminds me of someone.

There also are differences in how familiar each identity is with the others. Dissociative identity disorder usually also includes bouts of amnesia and often includes times of confused wandering.

Again, McLean looking really odd with its declaration of DID's covertness against great detail like this. However, its author is so far the best qualified. This one just says "Mayo Clinic Staff". Can't even know which of them worked on this. Some of them are psychs, but if any of them specialize in dissociative disorders, it doesn't say so.

Dissociative disorders usually arise as a reaction to shocking, distressing or painful events and help push away difficult memories.

I won't bother quoting even more wishy-washy language because this post is already at an ungodly length (about 1300 words so far) and we're barely a third done. But yeah, suffice to say, no nail-in-the-coffin 100% link to trauma.

Link 4: Rethink

We are a trusted information creator and accredited by the Patient Information Forum (PIF).

Their bold, for once. That's an alarm-ringing corporate phrase if I've ever seen one. Also, first thing on the PIF's website is "balancing the risks and benefits of AI in the production of health information". So this article might've been written by GPT. Awesome. And yeah, a lot of this whole website looks to me like a bunch of interconnected pages with stupidly long articles written by stitching together LLM generations. Does pass GPT0's test though.

This one is so long. I'll take the ten minutes to read through every word, which I don't think @radpocalypse did, just to make sure there's nothing here, but one thing that does catch my eye scrolling down to near the bottom is that they misspelled their first citation.

A quick look at this Carolyn Spring shows a lot being sold and credentials nowhere in sight. Awesome.

So already I don't need to read this. The information here is not at a high level of trustworthiness. It's maybe better than nothing, but seriously, one can and should do better. But I'll read it anyway, just for bonus points. Thanks to AccelaReader for making this bearable.

Many people will experience dissociation at some point in their lives. Lots of different things can cause you to dissociate. For example, you might dissociate when you are very stressed, or after something traumatic has happened to you.

Some of the symptoms of dissociation include the following:

You may have clear multiple identities.

It‘s important to remember that you could have the symptoms of dissociation without a dissociative disorder.

So according to this, multiple identities can be caused by intense but non-traumatic stress, and might not necessarily be a disorder. So, while I admit this is a little bit of a stretch, we're four links in and this is the first mention of plurality in general, so I'll take it. One point for endogenic plurality. (And again, none of this really matters anyway because this is the worst source so far.)

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is sometimes called ‘Multiple Personality Disorder.

If you have DID you might seem to have 2 or more different identities, called ‘alternate identities.

Two missing closing quotes. Really not a good sign.

They suggest that DID is caused by experiencing severe trauma over a long time in childhood.

Aha! Finally, something concrete against endogenic DID! Too bad it's buried in the worst source yet. If we believed we had DID, we would absolutely not reconsider that based on a sketchy webpage with suboptimal syntax and no credentials.

Ugh, finally done with that one. What a slog.

Link 5: DID Research

Aha! The infamous psych student's blog! That's what Sophie said, anyway. Not taking her word for it though. Let's see what we can find here, independently.

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is the result of repeated or long-term childhood trauma

Why wasn't this first? First sentence, so crystal clear. No two ways about this, transDID destroyed right out of the gate.

DID cannot form after ages 6-9 because individuals older than these ages have an integrated self identity and history.

Why wasn't this first? It's so plain, so refreshing after four pages of strategic ambiguity. Nothing left here for green. But still no mention of non-disordered plurality.

The author is impressively credentialed but doesn't seem to specialize quite near this area. She's certainly better than most, high above any random Tumblr user talking out of their ass, but the good stuff would be to get a DID specialist to explicitly spell out that endogenic systems are not possible.

Also should make note of this big fat legal disclaimer:

While the author strives to make information on this website as complete, reliable, and accurate as possible, the author makes no claims, promises, guarantees, or warranties about the accuracy, completeness, or adequacy of the contents of this site and expressly disclaims liability for errors and omissions in the contents of this site.

If we did claim to have DID, this would rattle us a little but could ultimately be brushed aside.

Link 6: SANE

As usual, literally nothing about endogenic plurality. I'll just greenmode this.

The majority of people with DID have been through severe trauma in early childhood

And now back to our regularly scheduled nondefinitive language.

Fun fact: highlighting text on this website turns it invisible. Awesome.

A person needs to meet the following criteria to be diagnosed with DID:

- Two or more distinct identities or personality states, each with its own way of thinking and relating. - Amnesia and gaps in the recall of everyday events, personal information or traumatic events. - The experiences are not part of normal cultural or religious practice, or part of childhood imaginary play. For example, a child having an imaginary friend does not mean they have DID. - The symptoms are not because of substance abuse or other medical conditions.

Ah finally, a direct quote from the good ol' DSM. Notice the lack of a trauma requirement.

Funny enough, using only these criteria in isolation, we actually would count as having DID due to our grayout memory gaps when switching. DID is also listed in the dissociative disorders section of the DSM, not the trauma disorders section, so there is no implied criterion there either. However, there still remains the universal criterion of distress, which we do not fulfill. We are quite happy with ourselves.

DID is caused by severe childhood trauma, such as physical, verbal or sexual abuse.

Well, which is it?? Is it a majority association or a direct cause? Why the contradiction? Or is the emphasis on early childhood trauma?

Eh, whatever. Point is, green is once again shut down. But there is still no mention of endogenic plurality anywhere here!!

And no indication of who wrote this article, though the citation for direct cause is a dissociative disorder specialist. Does he actually say that in the cited paper, though?

Dissociative identity disorder (DID) is multifactorial in its etiology. Whereas psychosocial etiologies of DID include developmental traumatization and sociocognitive sequelae, biological factors include trauma-generated neurobiological responses. Biologically derived traits and epigenetic mechanisms are also likely to be at play. At this point, no direct examination of genetics has occurred in DID. However, it is likely to exist, given the genetic link to dissociation in general and in relation to childhood adversity in particular.

I hope you have a dictionary on hand. That sure is a lot of big words that aren't in Firefox's built-in spellchecker. Still, after making sure I got everything, it's clearly not so cut and dry here. And we're back on the "it could be genetic" point.

Tangentially related: I do like the dismissal of the iatrogenic model on the basis of the brain scans.

Neurobiological differences have been demonstrated between dissociative identities within patients with DID and between patients with DID and controls. Given the current evidence, DID as a diagnostic entity cannot be explained as a phenomenon created by iatrogenic influences, suggestibility, malingering, or social role-taking. On the contrary, DID is an empirically robust chronic psychiatric disorder based on neurobiological, cognitive, and interpersonal non-integration as a response to unbearable stress.

Anyway, we're not even on the original page anymore, so I'll call it here. No mention of endogenic plurality, and the citation that claims to dismiss endogenic DID doesn't.

Link 7: NAMI Michigan

While the causes [of DID] are unknown

I'm tired. Aren't you tired?

Treatment for DID consists primarily of psychotherapy with hypnosis.

Yeah I'm calling BS on this one

And no citations on this entire page, nor even the author's name.

Statistics show that DID occurs in 0.01 to 1 percent of the general population.

Research has shown that the average age for the initial development of alters is 5.9 years old.

No sources listed. This is definitely the worst link. Literally on the same level as a rambling Tumblr user in terms of credibility.

Doesn't matter that it says

This disorder is believed to be triggered by physical or sexual abuse in childhood

Couldn't even get this dogshit source to be firm.

This one gets an F.

Link 8: The Psychology Practice

Got scared for a moment there that it said ai. No, that's AL, a name. Also this was written in 2022, so we're definitely safe. Can't actually find any other info on this AL character, but at least we can look up the co-author.

Hm, can't find anything on her, either. Well, at least this is a step up from the previous link. Let's see what it has to say.

According to the Dissociative Identity Research Organisation (2018), DID is formed in childhood due to repeated trauma in early childhood (before age 10) before the personality is fully integrated.

I do like that these later links are direct with this. They don't seem to have a citation for that DIRO, though. Unless...

No. Oh no.

Ok, so this one was written by a couple of clowns who definitely didn't do their homework. Cool. I'm getting tired of humoring awful sources like this, so moving on to the grand finale.

Link 9: NAMI

Wait, this is the same group behind the zero-citation article from Michigan! But that was just Michigan. Maybe the main site can do better.

Ugh, it's just another list of dissociative disorders instead of DID specifically.

The symptoms of a dissociative disorder usually first develop as a response to a traumatic event,

Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired? Aren't you tired?

Often these identities may have unique names, characteristics, mannerisms and voices.

Often? Wow. Sure is a far cry from 5%.

Dissociative disorders are managed through various therapies including: - Psychotherapies such as cognitive behavioral therapy (CBT) and dialectical behavioral therapy (DBT) - Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) - Medications such as antidepressants can treat symptoms of related conditions

No mention of hypnosis, allegedly the primary method of treatment?? (/sarc)

and there was no mention of plurality being exclusive to dissociative disorders

Oh, and no listed authors either.

So, after three thousand words of analysis, all we've come up with are nothing burgers, dogshit, and dogshit nothing burgers. Out of nine links, only one briefly and indirectly touched on endogenic plurality, and it was in favor. Even the argument against the traumaless DID strawman is weak at best. These sources are bad, to put it lightly.

@radpocalypse, if you're reading this, firstly, thank you for powering through your ADHD and dyslexia to read thousands of words dunking on your masterpiece. Secondly, if you have any more sources that you think are backing you, feel free to send them my way. Just uh, maybe read them more closely next time?

And that goes for everyone here. If you think you have a better source, or if I made a mistake or missed something here, I am open to correction. I am open to the idea that I'm wrong and I have some unknown trauma to work through, but I certainly won't go digging unless I have good reason to believe it's there, and I haven't seen any good reason. And if you haven't either, maybe it's time to reconsider your position.

One last thing before I go.

Have you ever actually seen a pro-endo carrd, let alone one cited in standalone? I haven't.

Here's a much longer list of much better sources than yours supporting endogenic plurality compiled by the traumagenic Guardians System. I don't expect you to read anywhere near the whole thing; just pick a few links at random. And yes, while many of them are peer-reviewed papers, some of them are Tumblr posts, but those Tumblr posts cite peer-reviewed papers, so it's all good.

Thanks for reading.

#syscourse #sysconversation

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just-a-carrot · 7 days ago

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Random updates on the manga...

After doing some research, I've decided I'll publish the first chapter on Webtoon when it's done. Tho it's not the best for manga-style, it seems to be the most popular, so I thought it would be easiest for people to read.

As a result, I've slighted tweaked the format to be juuuust a bit taller and with larger text so it reads well on mobile/in the app (I did a lot of tweaking and testing for my first pages dhfjdjdj)

Also as a result, I'm gonna have to tone down Genzou's mouth 🤣 Because with high profanity level it said it would automatically label it as mature and I don't want that since it would be only the language doing so (and apparently on Webtoon mature-rated comics get almost no visibility)

I have 17 pages done so far! And haven't even made it to the 4 pages I've already done so it's technically 21 lol (tho I'll need to tweak those a bit to match my new format)

I'll probably divide the first chapter into 3 episodes and publish them all at once since it seems to be recommended that you launch a comic with 3 episodes (which is probably ok anyway as it will likely be a bit long otherwise as one single episode)

I've been listening to nonstop rock Western music playlists on YouTube LOL

I'm going to get so good at drawing horses and horse-related paraphernalia after this (and dogs apparently)

I'm pleasantly surprised by how my BGs have been turning out; they feel soft yet immersive in a way that fits the vibe, and they also don't take me forever and a day to do

Iggy looks so cute in some panels I want to cry

Genzou looks so cute in some panels I almost ascend to another plane

No matter what becomes of this, this has been great for my art. I'm drawing so many new poses and angles and compositions and it's been both challenging and fun. It's a lot of stuff I think will help my future VN work, as well

I mentioned in an ask reply the other day already but I have roles in mind for both Orlam and Gidget already in future chapters if I do continue it, and there will also be a variety of smaller cameos for some other chars, too

Overall, I'm still having fun and can't stop drawing LOL I'm excited every day to work on it and finish more pages 💕

#carrot thoughts

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harley-sunday · 2 years ago

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Champagne Supernova

Summary: You literally stumble into Charles Leclerc one evening and somehow end up with custody over his tuxedo jacket? Weird. Pairing: Charles Leclerc x reader [f] Warnings: None Word count: 2.7k AN: Sometimes an idea just *mimics explosion with hand* pops up all of a sudden and won't go away until you write it down (I mean, I was literally in bed already but…). So here we are Also, written on mobile (eL, don't @ me) so apologies in advance for shitty formatting and for not editing. Also², I live for validation so comments and reblogs are very much appreciated! That is, if you like it, of course :)

It’s warm inside the ballroom of the hotel you’re in and so you’re trying to fan yourself with a copy of tonight’s program because now that the formal part of the evening is over it really doesn’t serve any use anymore other than to help you cool down. You’re standing in the corner of the room, close to the bar, observing the crowd - Monaco’s elite; a strange mix of old money and self made millionaires that have come together for tonight’s fundraiser.

You don’t belong to either of those groups but instead are here because the PR agency you work for somehow got selected to promote the event. It meant a lot of overtime in the past two months for the entire team and so your bosses - Olivier and Claire, a happily married couple with two kids, a dog, and a perfect work-life balance (of course) - promised you and your colleagues a seat at one of the tables and thus an open bar for the evening very early on in the process to make up for all the early mornings and late nights.

Dinner was a drawn out affair with seven small courses, entirely too much red wine, and a slightly boring silent auction reveal that took way too long for your liking. The promise of an after-party kept you from leaving early but it’s Monaco, it’s rich people, and so you could and should have known that their idea of an after-party is more champagne, bragging about who paid what despite it being a silent auction, and a guy with a comb-over and an ill-fitting tuxedo playing the piano, dragging out “Les Lacs du Connemara” way beyond the six minutes the song usually takes.

Next to you, Olivier and Claire are having a small domestic because Claire, slightly intoxicated, wants to stay but Olivier, scarily sober, has promised the babysitter they’d be back before one. Your other two colleagues are trying to persuade (read: threaten) the piano guy into playing “Sweet Caroline��, and you are feeling more miserable by the minute - one of your shoulder straps keeps sliding down, there’s a headache coming on, and your feet hurt like crazy in the stilettos you had no time to break in, so to say you are over it and ready to go home would be an understatement.

You wait for a lul in Olivier and Claire’s argument before you turn to them and tell them, “I’m heading out, ok? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Olivier nods but Claire starts to protest and grabs your wrist, “Babe. Stay.”

You shake your head and try to free your hand but Claire doesn’t let go. Looking at Olivier for help you tug again but her fingers remain deadlocked around your wrist and you know it’s because she’s drunk and wants someone in her corner when Olivier decides to stand his ground and make her go home in about five minutes or so, but it is annoying as fuck and so you pull a little harder and start to walk away. “Claire,” you warn her, “let go.”

She still doesn’t.

Until all of a sudden she does and it makes you stumble forward and bump into someone and then everything seems to happen at once - you flail your arms trying not to topple over, reaching out for something- Anything you can hold onto. It’s the arm of the guy you bumped into but as you steady yourself against him he loses control of the drink he’s holding, a quiet, “Oh, merde,” your only warning before-

“Holy shit, that’s cold!” You jump backwards in shock, fingers plucking at the fabric of your dress as you try to stop the liquid from dripping down in between your boobs while quietly cursing your best friend who made you wear this stupid dress with its stupid plunging neckline in the first place. The fabric is already clinging to your skin, your chest and stomach absolutely soaked and you look around for an easy exit, first to the toilets maybe, to save yourself from the horrified looks around you and any further embarrassment but then you see a stack of white napkins appear in your field of vision and before you know it you are being pat down by the man who’s drink you’re now wearing.

“I am so sorry,” he mumbles while trying to dry your dress but the napkins are white and your dress is black and so all it does is leave a trace of little pieces of fluff all over your stomach but before you have a chance to say anything he’s grabbed a new stack of napkins and goes for your chest-

“Stop! Stop, stop, stop.” You shake your head and take the napkins from him, gently pushing his hands back with a smile, “I got this.”

“Shit, sorry.” He runs a hand through his hair and is blushing like crazy, “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok,” you tell him as you’re blotting yourself now. “I mean, I’m the one who bumped into you, right?” The napkins really aren’t helping and so you give up with a frustrated sigh, looking up for the first time then, letting out a quiet, “Oh,” when you see the man standing in front of you. Jesus Christ, he’s hot. And apparently still upset because he stares at you with his beautiful green eyes as if he wants the ground to swallow him whole. Even though you’re the one who could enter, and maybe even win, a wet t-shirt contest this very second which you think is ten times more embarrassing.

“Let me at least do something to help,” he tries, reaching out his hands to you again but then thinking better of it. “Really. Anything. I mean, I will pay for the dress of course, but-”

He seems so flustered that you can’t help yourself, “Well, considering you almost went to second base just now-” you say with a wide smile and a pointed look between his hands and your chest, “-it would be nice to at least know your name.”

This makes him chuckle and earns you a smile in return, “I’m Charles.”

“Nice to meet you, Charles,” you say, meaning every word of it, and then introduce yourself. When you lick your lips you taste the champagne he spilled on you and can’t help but laugh, “What a waste of that Veuve Clicquot, though, huh?”

“I’m more worried about your dress, to be honest,” he counters with a grin.

“What? This old thing?” You motion for him to come forward and when he does you put your mouth close to his ear and whisper, “Between you and me, I think the champagne was more expensive.”

He chuckles again when you pull back and you can’t help but fall for him a little, the way he scrunches his nose something so- Adorable? Hot? You’re not sure. Either way, you want to see more of it, you decide. Charles still looks as if he’s ready to go into purgatory and so somehow you’re not really surprised when he tries again, “I mean it though. Anything I can do to make up for this.”

You look around then and even though most of the crowd has gone back to their smalltalk there are still some curious onlookers that seem way too invested in this, making you feel very exposed all of a sudden, and so, well, if he insists… “Maybe you could lend me your jacket for a hot sec and escort me out of here?”

“Of course,” he replies, already taking his tuxedo jacket off. He hesitates for a second but then drapes it over your shoulders anyway, “There.”

Instead of a ‘thank you’, a distracted, “Uhu,” comes out because it’s only now, when you see the way the white dress shirt is stretched across his arms and chest, that you see how muscular he is. He’s- Not broad but definitely athletic and you wonder what kind of sport he’s into. Before you have a chance to ask though he’s absentmindedly rolling up the sleeves of his shirt and you can feel your mouth go a little dry at the sight of his tanned, veiny forearms and hands. A fleeting thought of just how much you could make him apologize with those long fingers gets quickly pushed back when he holds out his arm for you to loop yours through.

“Come on,” he says and nods towards the exit. “Let’s get out of here.” He guides you through the room with ease and doesn’t stop when you reach the foyer, instead making you follow him outside where he nods at the valet.

“I didn’t drive here,” you start, because somehow you figured it’s your car he wants them to get.

“I know. Well-” he chuckles then, “-I don’t actually, but I’m making him get my car so I can drive you home. Or your hotel. I mean, I don’t want to assume-”

“Home,” you quickly reassure him. This time you remember your words and your manners, “Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do.” He leads you down the front steps when the valet pulls up with his car, a black Ferrari Pista Spider that you can’t help but silently admire, and doesn’t let go of you until you’ve reached the car and he’s opened the door for you.

You try to keep the wet part of your dress from touching anything inside the car as best as you can, offering a quiet, “Sorry,” when Charles slides into his seat.

He tuts, “Don’t worry about the car, ma chérie."

And, oh- That’s- Nice. And a complete one eighty from how flustered he was mere minutes ago. Huh. Interesting.

If he does notice you clearing your throat to distract yourself, he’s kind enough not to mention it. Instead he starts the car, the engine absolutely purring to life, and turns to you with a grin, "Where am I taking you?”

Right here and right now please, you almost say, but you don’t think that’s what he meant and so instead you tell him, “Take a left at the stoplights and then a right at the next.”

As you guide him through the streets of Monaco you find out he’s an F1 driver with Ferrari who was actually born and raised in Monaco. He tells you how he’s on a three-week summer break until the end of August when the second half of the season starts with a race in Belgium. In return you tell him how you moved here three years ago when, after college, you got offered a job by Claire and Olivier.

All too soon, because sometimes Monaco really is nothing more than just a small town on the French Riviera, he pulls up in front of your house with an almost apologetic smile, “Here we are.”

“Here we are,” you echo with a nod. It’s silent for a moment before you decide to just put yourself out there, something about doing it now or forever wishing you had, “Would you like to come in? I could get changed and give you your jacket back? You might want to wash it though, I think there’s some wine- It probably needs to go to the dry cleaner’s, right? I don’t think it can go in the washing machine-” You hear yourself starting to ramble and so you close your eyes for a second and try again, “What I meant was: Would you like to come in for a drink?”

“I would love to but- I can’t,” he says and there’s something about him that makes you believe he’s telling the truth and that he’s sorry about it. “I have some auctioned pieces I still need to sign and I have to take a photo with the highest bidder in-” he looks at his watch and lets out a humorless laugh, “-ten minutes.”

“That sucks,” you tell him because apparently you’re now just speaking your mind without being eloquent about it.

He nods slowly, “It kind of does.”

Oh. Ok.

“Take the jacket,” he says then, “I can come pick it up later.”

Wait. What?

“Later tonight, or?”

He shakes his head, “No. Later as in, next week or something.”

“Oh, ok, yeah, that’s- Yeah, makes sense.” No need to stumble over your words, you think, you took your chances and it didn’t work out. It’s fine. It’s just that the 'or something’ kind of hurts.

He must see the disappointment on your face because he quickly adds, “I mean, so I can see you again. Later. When I’m not in a rush and you’re not covered in champagne.”

You can’t help but laugh, your mind once again too quick for your own good, “Who says I won’t be?” You let the words hang in the air with a raised eyebrow and it takes a few heartbeats but then Charles laughs as well, a burst of laughter that you want to hear again and again. You grin at him, “What?”

“You are something else,” he says, shaking his head. He reaches for his phone then, unlocks it, and hands it to you, “If you add your number I could maybe call or text you?” There’s a shy smile playing on his lips then, “About the jacket, I mean.”

“Are you sure you don’t want it back now?”

“No, that’s ok. My brothers are at the party as well. I can just take one of theirs.”

“Sure?” You try one last time.

“Sure.”

“Ok.” Your fingers fly over his screen then, adding yourself to his contacts before you hand him the phone back. Locked. A wicked grin on your lips, “Let’s see if you remember my name- Later.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Good.” You lean over the center console then and press a kiss to his cheek, “I’ll be seeing you then.”

“You will,” he says with a bad attempt at a wink, which so far seems his only flaw.

“Thank you for driving me home,” you say as you climb out of the car while trying not to flash anyone even though there’s no one around. A kind smile then as you close the door, “Drive safe.”

“Always.” He gives you a quick wave and then he’s off, the rumble of the engine echoing through the almost empty streets of the city.

***

He doesn’t call. Or text. And so his jacket moves from your living room, where it was draped over a chair for the first three weeks, to the guest bedroom slash your home office, this time draped over your office chair. Every now and then you catch a hint of his cologne and so you still aren’t able to really forget about him.

At the beginning of November you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ll probably won’t see him again, that you probably made a bigger deal out of it than it was, that he probably doesn’t even remember you - your name just another girl added to his contacts because he was simply trying to be nice - and so at some point you move the jacket to inside the closet in the guest bedroom, telling yourself that the only reason you won’t throw it away is because it’s Armani and expensive as fuck.

You’d like to say you’ve forgotten about both the jacket and Charles once December rolls around but that would be a lie. You’ve actually started to follow the remainder of the F1 season and saw him come second in the World Driver Championship. A warm feeling settling somewhere inside your chest whenever you see him getting doused in champagne by his teammates or rivals, taking you back to the night you met.

He’s been on your mind more than ever and when your phone rings one night, an unknown, private number calling you, you somehow know it’s him and so you answer with a cheeky, “The jacket you are trying to reach is no longer available. Please try again later.”

He lets out a laugh, that same laugh you drew from him in his car all those months ago, and it’s like no time has passed at all. “Salut, ma chérie, I’m sorry for not calling any sooner but-”

“Don’t try to sweet talk your way back into our lives, Leclerc,” you say as you take another bite of the apple you were eating.

“Our?”

“The jacket’s and mine,” you reply. “We are doing quite well for ourselves.”

“Hmm,” he hums. “Is that so?”

You nod even though he can’t see you, “Yeah.”

“I’d like to come see that for myself.”

“Hmmm,” you draw out. “We might be able to arrange a supervised visit. When would you-”

Your doorbell rings then and you hear it both in your house and echo through your phone and- Oh. Shit.

Charles chuckles in your ear, “Now?”

===

AN: I am so sorry for this very unsatisfying open ending. It was the best I could do for now... *sends hugs to those affected*

#F1 Fanfic #Charles Leclerc x reader #Charles Leclerc imagine #Charles Leclerc x you #CL16 #Harley Sunday x Charles Leclerc

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schumachersricciardo · 2 months ago

Text

Shiver

Chapter Six - You’re All I’ve Ever Known

♡ Mick Schumacher x Reader, Best friend!Danny Ricc x reader

♡ TW: Swearing, inaccurate timeline of F1/F2/F3, badly translated German using Google, blood/injuries (not graphic, but there is are mentions of it!), i forgot how many days elapsed between scenes bc i wrote this in like two days. so ya know ¯\_(ツ)_/¯. INACCURATE DESCRIPTIONS OF ENGLAND???? I literally made up street names and i think a school, so don’t come for me. I’m just a girl. plus i’m american so like we already have enough on our plates. Ummm slight kidnapping vibes??? very inaccurate and probably wrong medical talk.

♡ She/Her pronouns are used, nothing descriptive about reader except that her hair is long enough to pull back into a ponytail or braid, no reader insert, timeline skips. ALSO: WARNING!!!! I will barely be mentioning Michael Schumacher. I do not presume to know what he is thinking, or would say in these fictional scenarios. I am trying to be respectful of their privacy and not make any assumptions!!!!!! He will be mentioned here and there, but I do not believe any dialogue will be associated with him. If you do not like that, then do not read it. :)

♡ 6.3k words

♡A/N: Again, posting this on mobile and will format it when i get back from work! sorry it’s a day late. yesterday was very bad lol ok love u bye

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It seemed like there was never going to be an end to the poking, the prodding, and testing on your body. Everyday, there was to be a new test or a repeat of an old one to be done. On top of already having been in the hospital for more than two weeks now, your memory was still not coming back to you. Sometimes someone would say something and if it as if your brain knew the memory tied to it, but it couldn’t relay it to your voice fast enough to recollect it. You didn’t know what was worse at this point:

“No, no threes. Go fish.” Your Uncle Sebastian echoed, stopping your train of thought.

Trying to focus your eyes, you looked at the pile of cards in front of you and drew another one.

“Do you… Have any… sixes?”

The four time champion just smiled and slid over some of his cards. You neatly made a pile of your finished “sixes” cards. Moments later, there was a slight knock on the door before it slowly pushed open towards the two of you.

“Hi, Mrs. Schumacher. It’s good to you see you again.”

So here’s the thing - You had been called that many times now. Almost every nurse and doctor has called you that… And since you had no room to counter, you never corrected them. Who knows? Maybe you and Mick actually got married after high school like the two of you talked about. And as weird as it was for you to be called that… It certainly felt right and didn’t make you feel uncomfortable - which of course made things curious and curioser.

“Mrs.… Schumacher??” Sebastian Vettel put his cards down and eyed the nurse and the doctor. There was a look on their faces that you couldn’t quite place.

“So sorry, no,” The doctor began correcting his mistake. He finally addressed you by your first and last name. “I’m sorry, again. Mr. Schumacher is your medical proxy and I forget that those in fact, do not have to be spouses.”

The doctor nervously chuckled as he prepared various medicinal instruments. It would happened two times a day where they’d check your cognitive function and your response to stimuli. Sometimes you’d say things that were a memory, but moments later you forget you said that. You even had times where Mick was in the same room, and you had forgotten who he was so you called him… Pleading for him to come back and comfort you.

He was the only constant in your life.

The doctor and nurses finished their exam and let you get back to your card game. You had no memory of the man who sat across from you, even though he said he was like family to Mick and that he knew you when you were little. He’d tell you stories about his time in Formula One, and how he’s focused on sustainability now and finding new hobbies. You truly were delighted in the presence of this man, but deep down inside you wished that Mick were there.

He had some press releases to do, as his racing came to halt when you crashed out in Silverstone. He was planning on racing the last 5 races as you were getting better now. Well, physically. Your leg was almost ready to be put in a regular soft cast once the rods would be removed. Your arm was out of its cast completely, and it seemed like your ribs and spine were doing okay. It was just your dumb brain that needing fixing.

“You alright?” Soon, Sebastian’s voice pulled you out of your endless thinking. “We can stop, if you’d like. I think you are beating me, anyway.”

Silently, you put down your cards and pushed the tray that was on wheels aside. You didn’t know what was coming over you. You felt an immense sadness and regret, but you didn’t know why. You were lost. Having your memories stripped of you is such a cruel fate… You rather have just not survived.

“I’m not good enough for him.” You plainly stated.

Sebastian blinked a few times as he put down his playing cards as well. He took a deep breath and tried his best to comfort you.

“Why do you say that? He’s been here every day since you crashed.” Sebastian’s tone was cautious, but caring.

“i mean… Look at me? I have rods sticking out of my leg… And I can’t remember shit. It’s pathetic.”

The former F1 didn’t have a response. He couldn’t imagine what you were going through, let alone the both of you. He just gently reassured you with a grasp of his hand on yours. Before you knew it, even his thoughts were halted by someone entering your hospital room.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Nurse Elsie.” The brunette nurse beamed at you, and took the clipboard off of the end of the bed. “Do you remember who I am?” Her British accent was thick… You couldn’t place from where though.

You paused and did your best to remember someone named Elsie.

“You-You were there when I first woke up… And you were telling me to stay calm…”

The nurse’s expression immediately turned. Complete surprise and bliss overtook her as she grinned at you and Sebastian. She grabbed your hands ever so softly and opened her mouth to speak.

“Yes, that’s correct! I was here the day you came in, and I haven’t left since.” It truly warmed your heart to see someone that hardworking have some sense of relief. “And I am glad you’re speaking English again!”

“Was… I not before?” Your eyebrows furrowed and your focused shifted to Sebastian. He pressed his lips in a tight line, debating if he should answer for you when Mick wasn’t there.

Clearing his throat, he straightened his posture and exhaled.

“When you first woke up, you were only speaking in German. Mick had to translate for you for a while, until you felt comfortable enough to speak English again.” Vettel calmly responds, his hand scratching at the stubble on his jawline. You nodded along while he explained a few more things to you.

About twenty minutes later after another few tests were done, you were absolutely exhausted. You tucked yourself into the hospital bed with one of Mick’s blankets added to the pile for extra warmth. His scent was wearing off of the blanket as you pulled it up to your chin. Mick was familiar to you, and to your feelings - Yet, part of him remained a stranger. He was older, well you both were now.

He was not the shy little school boy anymore, but a confident young man. His muscles had grown noticeably and his hair was long, like you liked it. His jawline had formed into sharp corners where it meets his ears, as opposed to the chubby faced kid who would ride his bike alongside you and hold your hand in crowded places so you wouldn’t get lost. On the other hand and maybe the stronger one at that, you didn’t recognize him at all. Sure, he looked like Mick and sounded like him… But there was a piece missing to the dynamic between the two of you that you couldn’t quite place.

When he would be in the hospital room with you, it was almost as if he was treating you with a fragility that was completely peculiar to the way your foggy memory could recall him treating you. He was always kind and always held a special tenderness for you, that much you could remember… But be that as it may, he was handling you now with a delicate hand - so afraid of breaking you further. You couldn’t tell from where you sat if it was because of your injuries that he was being extra careful around you, or because there was something he wasn’t telling you.

“Knock, Knock.” The familiar voice of another doctor entered your stumbling train of thought as they entered your room. Sebastian stood to greet her and shake her hand.

“How are you feeling today, ma’am?” You shrugged and mumbled something incoherent. “Right then! My name is Doctor Wells. I’m the Chief of Neurology, and have been following your case closely.”

You honestly were having a tough time keeping all these doctors and nurses straight in your head, that you thought adding one more to the list might make you explode. But still - you politely greeted her as you told her your name.

“You’ve been making great progress physically, it seems. Your leg will be moved to a soft cast in two days time, and then in about a month, we’ll x-ray your leg to see when we would take that cast off, but again, it’s looking good.” The doctor smiled as her green eyes scanned the clipboard in front of her.

She began to hum to yourself as she jotted down some notes. You immediately noticed it, and Sebastian immediately noticed you. It was as though you couldn’t breathe all of a sudden and you had no clue as to why. Your monitors began to beep at a rapid rate, while the voices around you were telling you things but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was a loud, sharp and lasting ringing in your eyes as you sobbed. Soon, you felt the calming medicine go through your IV and settle your heart rate. It took a few more minutes to gain your bearings.

“Es tut mir Leid (I’m sorry).” You breathed out as you laid back down trying to get comfortable again.

Sebastian excused himself to go make a phone call, assuring you that he’d be back in a few minutes.

“That’s quite alright. Your body has been through a lot these last few weeks.” Dr. Wells smiled at you with an overwhelming aura of reassurance. She took a beat, and pulled up her rolling stool next to your bedside. “May I ask what I did to trigger that reaction? I want to know so I won’t do it again.”

You turned your head to meet her gaze, her eyes filled with worry and sympathy. You tried your best to think about the answer to her question. She could practically hear the gears turning in your head while you attempted to pinpoint what it was that upset you.

“The humming… When you hummed… It… I don’t know - did something to me.” Dr. Wells nodded in response and promise that she wouldn’t do it again. “Can I ask you a question, Dr. Wells?”

“Anything at all.”

You moved your hospital bed up so you could sit up and see the doctor better. You had very little to go on, but what you could go off of confidently was people’s expressions and the way their faces moved when they spoke to you.

“What are my chances of getting my memory back, and if I don’t… What do I do?” In turn, your facial expression was desperate, reeking of hopelessness and despair. She could see the devastation the accident has brought you, as it seeped out of the pores of your skin and infected your surroundings.

“Well, you’re making good progress and you remember Nurse Elsie which is a great sign… And the fact that you still know who Mick is a great sign,” Dr. Wells began slowly. “But, we really won’t know the extent of the damage the crash took, especially in regard to your memory. All your brain scans have thus far been clean, with no cause for concern.”

You started to feel tears brimming in your eyes as you bit your bottom lip to try and stifle back your cries. Shakily, you let out whatever air you had left in your lungs now.

“Sometimes things like this just happen and we don’t know why… But what we do know is that memories can always be created. You may not be able to remember the ones you had previously, but you can always replace them with new ones, better ones even.”

The pair of you talked for a few minutes more about your situation and how best to help it. She gave you some flyers for support groups and some numbers for therapists that specialize in what you were going through. She checked your vitals once more before heading towards the door and exiting, smiling a courteous smile as she disappeared into the vast hospital.

On the rare occasion you were left alone in your room, you liked to write things down in a notebook Mick gave you. It was your favorite color, with a giant ‘MSC47’ sticker on it. You had asked him what that was and he told you it was his racing number. To that, you asked why he didn’t put your racing number… And in response to that, he sheepishly admitted that it slipped his mind to put your number, but he was glad you always had a reminder of him. You didn’t even notice you were reminiscing until you caught yourself stroking the sticker on the front of your notebook. Blinking a few times to clear your mind, you opened it up to the next free page only to see that someone really tried not to write in their typical chicken scratch.

Smidge,

If you are reading this, then I must be away doing some press related things. I wish I did not have to, but duty calls and I also think Toto would come to my house and drag me there himself (in a very nice way, of course). Anyway, I wanted to write you a short note and let you know that I will be back soon, and hopefully you will be coming home after that. I have rented a place out here for you and me that will be sufficient enough until you decide where you want to fully rest and recover. We can go back to your apartment in Italy or to one of my family’s cottages in Switzerland. I would even take you back to the states to find respite at my ranch in Texas, but I know you do not have fond memories of Texas. I want to do only what you are comfortable with, Schätzen.

As for my last few races, I am on the lookout for the best home care nurse I can find while I am away. Sebastian offered, but he has a family and children of his own. When you feel up to it, I would also like your opinion on how you would like your care to be handled when I am at a race. I want you to feel as safe and taken care of as possible. It kills me that I have to go away to participate in the last few races, but part of me is also excited to get back to driving alongside Lewis. We (Mostly I) will dedicate every race to you, Schätzen. Maybe if you are healed and well enough, you may be able to attend the last race of the season. That would be very fun, as I know some of the drivers are dying to see you again.

I cannot think of anything else to write that might ease your mind while I am gone for now. I cannot imagine how difficult it must be to not know anybody there, but I do hope that with Sebastian being there it has calmed some of your nerves. He admires you greatly, and you have always been fond of him. I feel exactly the same way. But you can always text message me or call me, if you need me. I know you are not quite comfortable with that form of communication yet, but I just want you to know that I will always respond and pick up when I see your name pop up on my phone.

Anyway, I am excited and full of anticipation for when I get to lay eyes on the most beautiful woman I have come to know again. Your strength and perseverance through this entire ideal has been something to write in the history books about. I cannot wait to hear your laugh and feel your fingers interlaced with mine. I am looking forward to our days spent on the couch, sharing a blanket, with you tucked underneath my side - where you fit so perfectly beside me as if it were meant to be. And until we see each other again, just know I am thinking of you always and missing you every second of the day.

You hold my heart in your hands.

Ich gehöre für immer dir.

(I am yours forever.)

Love,

Mickey

There were drops of water scattered across the page as you tried to stop yourself from crying again.

You may not know him, but he knows you. And the feeling was overwhelming.

“Are you alright?” Sebastian’s quiet voice came into notice as you looked up at him with tearful eyes. He tilted his head to the side in concern.

“He… Wrote me… He wrote me… This letter… He knew I would find it… He knew this… That I would want to write things down, after the day I had… And he knew I would find his letter…” You spoke in between sobs, your chest falling up and down at a rapid rate.

“Okay, okay. Let’s take a few deep breaths and then we can talk about it, ja?” Sebastian began to initiate some deep breathing, hoping you would follow suit.

After many seconds of doing some deep breathing, you closed your eyes and did your best to relax your body.

“He loves me, doesn’t he?”

Vettel paused, taking his seat beside you.

“Yes. He does.” The German driver answered solemnly.

“And I don’t love him? Isn’t that right?” You glanced around the dry hospital room, smears of bright white and the smell of rubbing alcohol apparent.

“I don’t want him to love me. I don’t deserve it.”

Sebastian Vettel, four time world formula one champion, and one of the most formidable motorsports athletes the world has ever known, was stunned. He remained tight lipped and stoic. In frustration, you threw the notebook onto the floor and put your head in your hands. You weren’t crying, no. But you were exasperated . You could hear beeping as each finger pressed a key in the background. You didn’t know what was what, except what was shown to you: The voice of somebody you used to know.

Sebastian had put the phone on speaker and handed it to you.

“Smidge? Are you okay?”

“Hello? Smidge?”

“Was machst du (What are you doing)?”

“Ich vermisse dich (I miss you).”

Mick’s voice was like the half of you that you didn’t know you needed. It melded perfectly with what you were missing in this dark despair of recent days. His slight German-Swiss accent brought you comfort like you didn’t know you needed. He had picked up the call no matter where he was or what he was doing.

“Komm zurück zu mir (Come back to me).” You could hear Mick let out a strained sigh. He wanted to come back, god did he want to.

“Mickey, please…”

Completely taking you off guard, the line went dead suddenly and you were left with another kind of beeping. You slowly handed the phone back to your almost friend, Sebastian. The former driver could only sigh and sit back in the chair that he had been making his home since Mick left.

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Four Days Later

Your leg was finally out of those ghastly rods and into a softer cast. To think this feeling was heavenly, was something you would have never put on your radar thus far. Soon enough though as the many doctors and nurses came by, you were cleared to go home in the next 24 hours.

“We are glad to see you improving Mrs. Schumacher.” You did your best to make eye contact with the receptionist. “Please let us know if you need anything.”

“Thank you…” You started with caution.

“I’m not Mrs. Schumacher though… If you want to change that for your records or anything…” You tried your best to be nonchalant. The receptionist typed a few bits onto the computer in front of her.

Ushering for you to take a seat in the lobby, you tried your best to not think about the past.

Due to a reason unbeknownst to you, Mick was unavailable to take you home when it came to your releases date. You even braved the scary phone long enough to ask Sebastian if he could be there to take you to the new home Mick set up for you. He wished that he could, but evidently he had something to attend to.

Bravery aside, you sat curbside alone trying to figure out who to call. Your leg was in its soft cast, as you remained waiting for something or someone to come rescue you. You didn’t know where you were, you didn’t know any phone numbers off of the top of your head, and if it could get any worse, you were in England where it was raining.

“You’re going to catch a cold if you stay outside like this.”

Great. Now you’re fucking hearing things. Trying to shake the eerie feeling you had resting on your shoulders, you ignored the voice.

“Let me take you home, huh?” The voice repeated to you.

Your head turned to the left towards the voice. They were leaning against some concrete beam, cigarette almost totally nsmoked as they stepped towards you.

“John?”

“Hello, baby sister.”

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You weren’t sure how you ended up at your brother’s flat in whatever country you were in at the moment. The legalization of Mick being your medical proxy was iron clad….

You never once considered an actual family member to be there for you. And as it were, your big brother had also aged some. You knew it was him immediately though. You could tell because he sort of looked like you, and his voice sounded like the only other voice besides Mick that you knew.

“Are we going back home?” Your brother was doing the dishes as you sat on the couch, your leg elevated to help relieve some swelling.

Again, you repeated the question. You could hear him turning the water off, and see him drying his hands as he turned to face you.

“No, we’re going to stay here for a little while.”

Confusion washed over you once more. Did Mick call your brother because he was unable to pick you up from the hospital? Did Mick even know you were here? All you could do was nod, while your brother excused himself to go lay down. It had been a long day of driving for him from where he came from. You remained in the quiet of your own company for a moment, trying to think of all the possibilities that could have ended up with you being in some strange apartment in a country you hardly knew. Finally, you pulled out your phone that Mick bought for you, and took a deep breath.

You: Hi Mick

…

Mick: Hello, Schätzen! It makes me very happy to see your text.

You: Really?

…

Mick: Yes, really. I would never lie to you.

You: That’s sweet.

…

Mick: I am so sorry I cannot be there to bring you home, but I will be there tonight and we can have dinner and watch a movie, if you would like. But, my very good friend Daniel is going to pick you up from the hospital, okay? He should be there shortly, if you just want to wait in the lobby where it is warm and dry.

You reread the message as your heart rate began to hasten. If Mick had already made arrangements for you to get picked up from the hospital… How did your brother find you?

You: Oh. I thought you called John, because he picked me up from the hospital already. A few hours ago, actually. I got released early and thought maybe you called him since you couldn’t get there in time.

Milliseconds after you pressed send on your text, your phone screen lit up brightly in your face.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Your thumb danced over the bottom of the screen, only to have your desire to hear his voice once again take over your body. Slowly, you accepted the call.

“Schätzen, where are you?” You could hear the panic in his voice. How the fuck were you supposed to know where you were?

“Um… I’m in John’s apartment, I think.” You spoke in a whisper as to not to disturb your resting brother.

“Scheiße, Scheiße, Scheiße (Shit, shit, shit)!”

On the other side of the phone you could hear him getting up and gather his belongings wherever he was. You could pick up bits and pieces of what he was telling someone near him, but not enough to put together a full sentence. You patiently waited on your side of the line for him to speak again. What seemed like forever went by, before he talked to you.

“Can you describe where you are? Can you look outside and see any street names, or building names?” You could tell he was jogging by now.

“I’d have to get up… And my crutches are… On the other side of the room…”

Mick felt absolutely stupid for forgetting that you had a cast on your leg. And he felt even more stupid that he allowed your safety to be compromised… Again. In his defense though, he gave strict instructions to the hospital staff not to allow anyone to take you home besides himself, Sebastian, and Daniel. He even started calling you his Mrs. Schumacher for extra protection, but he’d never tell you that secret.

He was trying as quickly as he could to figure out what the hell went wrong, and how the hell your brother found you. Mick told you he’d have to call you back, but that he promised he would call back in five minutes.

As you waited for him to call back, you decided to try and hobble over to the window. It was gloomy, of course, but you could still see a few things.

House Street

Franklin Street

You decided to text Mick the names of the cross streets, just in case. Glancing around some more through the window, you saw to the far right what looked like a school or a church. You squinted to try and get the name of it.

Longfellow Grade School: Home of The Lions

You also added that to your next text message to Mick, as well as the few models of cars that were sat out on the street. Exhausted now, you hobbled your way back over to the couch and let out all the air you had pent up in your lungs.

INCOMING CALL: Mick Schumacher

swipe to accept

Faster than you did the last time, you accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.

“Hi Mick, are you okay?”

“The police are on their way, Schätzen. Do not be scared when they arrive, ja? I will be there as fast as I can too. Stay on the line.”

You had a lot of conflicting feelings at this point. Why were the police involved now? Why did Mick sound so afraid? You couldn’t remember the last few years, but now you’re having to deal with all of this? It was as though your body was frozen with a mixture of fear and sadness. You could barely move from your spot on the couch while you anticipated the police’s arrival.

“Okay, Mick. What is going on, though?”

“I will explain everything once I bring you back home, to our home.”

Soon enough, there was a loud knock on the door. You could hear your brother curse loudly from his room as you shrank into the corner of the couch. You were very afraid. Your brother stumbled out of his room, rubbing his eyes as he opened the door to his apartment. One police officer held up a piece of paper to his face, while the other one peered into the space making sure you were alright. The male officer began to speak to your brother about whatever was on the paper, while the female officer approached you with caution.

“Hi, there. My name is Officer Clarkson. Are you alright?” Her voice was calming, and probably the most calming thing about this entire situation. She sat on the couch, keeping a good distance between you.

“I don’t know. I don’t know what’s going on, and I don’t know where I am.”

Mick had told the dispatchers that you were in a potentially dangerous situation, and that you had been in a bad car crash a month before resulting in some memory loss. He also told them that you in fact had a restraining order out against your brother, and that he had no clue how he got past the hospital staff.

“That’s okay, you don’t have to know anything right now. I’m just going to sit here with you, while my partner takes care of that young man. Is that alright?” Again, the peaceful cadence of her voice warmed you, and made you feel instantly safe.

“Yes.”

Your head quickly whipped to the side when your brother began yelling at the officer. He was pinned up against the wall, face to it, with his hands behind his back. The male officer handcuffed your brother and escorted him out to the police vehicle. It all happened so fast that you weren’t sure what to make of it. Officer Clarkson said some police speak into her walkie talkie that was on her chest, echoing some of the things being said back to her. She got up from the couch and looked around.

“Can you remember the last time you saw your brother?” You only shook your head in response. Your eyes followed the trail she was walking around the tiny apartment.

 After a few more questions that you honestly did not know the answers to, you could hear the radio on her chest go off. The officer grabbed your crutches, and the bag you had at the hospital and escorted you downstairs. There was another police car, an SUV. Two more officers approached you, both women.

“This is Officer Hammond and Officer May. They’re going to drive you home, your real home.”

You thought you might combust trying to keep everyone’s names straight. But you still didn’t have any answers as to why your brother was sitting in the back of a cop car. And as you did so dutifully in the hospital, you did again as you just stood in silence allowing things to be explained to you.

“Your friend Mick - the one who called the us - Will meet you there. Your brother won’t bother you ever again, ma’am.” Officer Clarkson gave a promising smile and nod as she handed your bag to one of the other female officers.

 Soon, you were in the backseat of the car as the three of you silently drove to wherever this new place was.

Two hours later, you were woken by Officer May trying coax you out of your sleep. You felt embarrassed for falling asleep, but it seemed like your body needed it. Rubbing your eyes, you looked over the officer’s shoulder to see you were parked in front of a modest one story home. You were in the countryside somewhere, and knowing Mick and his love for the countryside, you could tell that he put a lot of thought into this home. Even if it was going to be temporary, you enjoyed the thought of recovering somewhere private and secluded.

Officer May helped you out of the car and handed you your crutches. The sound of another car hastily pulling up made all three of your head’s turn sharply to the right. In true Mick fashion, he sported a big red truck as he parked in haphazardly. He couldn’t move fast enough though, as he jumped out of the car not even closing the door behind him. Mick ran up to you, his hands frantically searching your face for any wounds. He was rambling in German… Italian… Maybe even French as he brought you into a much needed embrace. He kissed the top of your head and looked at you with nothing but regret.

“Smidge, I am so sorry. I really do not know how this could have happened, but you are safe now. Okay? Completely safe from everything.” Mick profusely thanked the officers, and made a note to call and thank the other officers as well.

Mick helped you inside, before returning to the officers so that he could speak to them about the situation. They assured him that they would look into just how your brother was able to pick you up and take you out of the hospital. He wanted nothing more than answers at this point. (Join the club, right?)

You were still on edge when you heard the door open, your flinching making it clear. Mick walked towards you as cautiously as he could.

“It is just me, Smidge; Just Mick.” He stepped in front of you, his face softened by the sight of you. “I am sorry I scared you.”

“It’s just been a long day…” Mick led you carefully to the couch so that you could sit and rest your leg. Propping your leg up on some pillows, Mick moved to the kitchen to get you some water and some food.

The house was nicely decorated with accents of a familiar shade of red all around. The couch beneath you felt like a marshmallow compared to last couch you were sat on, and the hospital bed you had quite become accustomed to for the last month. Mick returned with a water bottle and a few snacks he might think you would want. Sitting beside you, but keeping a respectful space between you, the blond haired boy rubbed a very tired hand over his face. Leaning his head back onto the back of the couch and stretching out his arms too, he sighed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes. You watched him carefully, and more meticulously than you had in the hospital.

You liked the way his nose was slightly bigger than normal and the way that it curved downwards at the end. You noticed how his darkened blond hair curled ever so slightly at the tips. His lips were a pretty shade of pink too. You wondered if you ever had the pleasure of kissing them. His neck was bigger than you last could remember it to be. Mick’s Adam’s Apple moving up and down as he swallowed, sucking the insides of left side of his mouth. Mick always did that when he was overworked.

“Sind Sie gestresst (Are you stressed)?” Mick just hummed in response, your body relaxing at the familiar sound.

You remember how you reacted when the doctor hummed. Shuddering away that terrible thought, you scooted closer to him.

“Mir wird es gut gehen (I will be okay).” His eyes were still closed as he responded.

You took a beat and took a nice long deep breath. You remember what he had written in his letter. He probably had to leave his work to come find you. And the fact that he did made you feel something you hadn’t felt before - or at least couldn’t remember feeling. This man has always cared for you. Since you were children, he has always put you first and always made sure you were taken care of in every sense of the word. He was the only thing that connected you to your past and all of your lost memories. And surely he knew the weight of it all, yet he didn’t seem to be overwhelmed by it. He would carry the weight of the world on his shoulders if that meant he got to see you happy.

Something in the back of your head was telling you to reject these new feelings, though. You couldn’t tell what it was that was making you want to hide your emotions. The pull was strong. It was like The Force, pulling you into a dark deep alley where you were always meant to be: Alone.

You did your best to shake the distressing thought. Going back to happier things, you recited the letter in your head as you decided to be brave. After all, you didn’t survive a high speed car crash for nothing, right?

Nodding assertively to yourself, you managed to wiggle into Mick’s side. Your leg was still propped up, just now onto the coffee table in front of you. As best as you could and as comfortably too, you tucked yourself into him and his arm wrapped around you as if it were a dance you two had done a million times before. Your eyelids began to feel heavier and heavier as you felt the warmth of his body warm yours. It was not secret that the both of you were dog-tired as neither of you said a word.

The only thing surrounding you now was the sound of rain hitting the roof and someone’s arm wrapped tightly around you. And while you may not have any memories of the last few years, now was as good as time as ever to begin making new ones.

#f1 #formula 1 #formula one #mick schumacher #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #shiver fanfic #mick schumacher x reader

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pancake-breakfast · 4 months ago

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Ok! Notes from the first Orange panel at AX 2024! They were discouraging photography and video so this will just be text (mobile Tumblr hates my photos, anyway). But first, a bit of a TL;DR.

TL:DR: While they talked about Trigun: Stampede, Beastars, and their new upcoming title Leviathan, they mostly focused on Leviathan since Stampede has its own panel later. (I'm not sure about Beastars since I haven't been following the show as closely.)

Ok, on with the notes!

(Edited to add links.)

Studio Orange Presents: Beastars, Trigun, and...

The panel guests were Kiyotaka Waki (producer at Orange) and Yoshihiro Watanabe (producer at Orange and also played translator for Waki), as well as Justin Leach (producer for Eden and Star Wars: Visions).

They started off the panel by noting that exactly zero of the people on the panel (including the mod) slept the previous night.

Then they showed a sizzle reel in honor of Orange's 20th anniversary, highlighting all the stuff they've done in that time. There were a lot of cheers for Trigun, Beastars, and Land of the Lustrous in particular.

After the reel, they talked briefly about the history of Orange, how they'd gone from animating mecha for other people's shows (like they did for Evangelion and Code: Geass) to doing entire properties themselves. They're particularly proud of how their studio has grown from 4 people to... I forgot how many. Much more than 4. And they can now work on multiple titles simultaneously.

On to Trigun! They didn't get into it much since it's getting its own panel at the con, but they did show some pages from the Trigun Bible on Plants, and Watanabe noted he'd post them up on the bird app later today. (Edit: You can find them here.) Watanabe also said they can't release the whole Bible yet, which may just have me thinking hopefully, but hey, there's a chance! He seems to genuinely love sharing pages from it, at least.

On to Beastars! They read a thank you letter from the director to the fans, and also showed a subtitled video that I'd guess was also a thank you from someone else, but I was too far back to read the subtitles. (An ongoing problem with watching anything subbed at this con is the subs being entirely blocked by other people's heads unless you're in like the first few rows... but I digress.) They also showed a new key visual (which I'm sure is gonna be floating around social media somewhere at this point) and noted the third and final season of the show will air on Netflix in December. Waki noted he started reading the manga in 2017, and he's thrilled to get to work on a full adaptation of the story since it's rare to get to do that.

On to Leviathan! I'm gonna break this one up a bit because it's long. This is Studio Orange's new upcoming title in collaboration with Netflix and Qubic Pictures (the studio that did Eden, which was a great story overall and I definitely recommend it). They also worked extensively with the author of the original work, Scott Westerfield, who helped keep them consistent with the characters and themes.

The story is a dieselpunk alternate world WWI story about a runaway Austrian Prince named Alec who meets this Scottish girl, Sharp, on a bioengineered airship, and the relationships these people from disparate backgrounds have with others and each other.

The German/Austrian side of the conflict is a faction known as the "Clankers," who focus on mechs and technology to conquer the world via machines, while the faction Sharp belongs to is called the "Darwinists," who focus on DNA modification of creatures as a way to connect with nature.

They showed a preview of it that honestly looked really cool, but again, no recording. It had flying whale ships. Like... whales they strapped a box to and fly around on.

Orange is excited to get to "go back to their roots" with this and work on a Mecha title again, especially since this title will be theirs this time.

They acquired/absorbed (I'm not sure on the details) a team that specializes in background art for this project, and yeah, the backgrounds are detailed and amazing.

They noted a lot of animators reflect their own lives in their work, and they feel Leviathan is no exception. The international collaboration (they also have people from Europe working on this) lends itself well to a story about people from disparate cultures coming together and realizing they have more in common and more similar passions and desires than they have differences.

They'll be talking more about Leviathan at Otakon in August.

That's all for now! I'll try to update on the other Orange/Trigun panels if I get into them!

#trigun stampede #beastars #Leviathan orange #studio orange #anime expo #anime expo 2024 #ax 2024

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emmebearpaw · 3 months ago

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…. Oops I’m back with a whole second post/probably soon to be thread because the windglider one was getting very long and now I’m talking about Tengus and Gliders together. Putting in a read more for length.

This post is in response to reblog from @canonical-transformation and asks from @followfire and @beingatoaster

Chapter 1) How the hell does a Tengu Work?

ok that might seem like a strange place to start but I think it’s important to start off with the fact that Tengu wing anatomy is wack as hell. Typically I am the sort of person who likes to do research while thinking about my silly silly headcanons. I have learned a lot about old fabric skinned aircraft and have an appreciation for early heavier than air gliders now because of the (Wikipedia) research I’ve done to think about gliders in genshin. So I figured we’ll look up animals with 4 wings and figure out how they would fly and okay yup, early birds and flying insects. Do any of them have shorter front wings and larger back wings? No? No they are all either larger front or equal size? Excellent. Sounds great. It does seem to be a design feature used in certain types of military jets and missiles to uh… help with turning? I don’t 100% know. It’s called Canard configuration. It’s specifically for fixed wing aircraft and not… birds….

ok so I don’t actually know the motion a tengu’s wings would probably be making. It’s not like we ever get to see them fly in game. Hell, we barely get to see Sara’s wings because the game magically puts them away so they don’t have to animate them except in her idle. This is stupid and we are going to pretend she can’t put her wings away in her inventory and simply just keeps them folded a majority of the time. Anyways enough about Sara for now (don’t worry man. We’ll be back), it’s time for assumption #1: tengus fly in a mostly horizontal position and flap their wings in a rhythm similar to dragonflies (front and back set flap with off timing), but with more elbow in it like a bird. There is a flapping motion, the wings work independently of one another, and a tengu can not hover or fly backwards.

Assumption 2: the larger bottom set is likely responsible for most of the lift. The smaller top set is likely responsible for steering? Especially sharper turns and maneuvers? I don’t 100% know. I really feel like they should be reversed so I can take inspiration from proto-birds like micro raptor but instead we have that. So we are going to work with it.

assumption 3: the human form isn’t really meant to sustain flight? But we know they can fly, and it’s described as flight and not as gliding in lore, and thus they must be able to, for some amount of time, generate enough lift to gain elevation. In order to help reach that goal, a few other things I presume about tengus are that they have extra musculature in and around their wings to support them, they have bones that are more hollow than the average human, both to reduce weight and to store oxygen so that anaerobic metabolism is delayed and thus lactic acid production, allowing tengus to perform athletic feats for longer without exhaustion than an equivalent human, and that their builds tend towards lean and muscular without excessive weight. Sara is a decent example of a tengu build I think! Sort of lanky and isn’t muscular like Itto, where it’s very obvious, but she is muscular and very strong.

those assumptions are going to form the backbone of what a theoretical prosthetic glider may need to accomplish. It needs to be able to move independently from the other wing on the same side, and flap! Either to provide lift or to help steer. Now, let’s get onto

Chapter 2: Construction of a Second Wing.

I say as if there would be one construction. Because. You know. It’s a mobility aid. There would be varying levels of need and thus varying types made so let’s go through them in rough order of least involved to most involved. Anyways I’m still not an engineer so uh fuck.

but first we have to start with the common elements. While I tend to think normal gliders for people without wings are unframed devices, I firmly believe that tengu wing prosthetics (which I’m going to call second wings I guess. I made up that name for the chapter title but do like it) are articulated framed constructions. Realistically I think bamboo would grow in Inazuma despite it not being there in game because trees can’t appear in two regions if they don’t have fruit, but, I think bamboo frames are the most common material due to its lightness.

I was originally going to draw pictures depicting the framing but it’s too late and I’m comfy cozy in bed, because past midnight is the only time I write insanely long tumblr posts. Diagrams may be added later but please use your imagination for now.

ideally I think the frame would follow the leading edge of the wing, acting almost as a second skeleton in order to minimize motions the wing is incapable of, and to provide a way to attach these things to the body harness. Realistically a frame on just one side of the wing may be impractical, and if that is the case then the wing is probably fully surrounded by a light bamboo frame. This probably depends on the needs of the user.

My general thought on the design of these would be a wing by wing approach. The trailing edge of the wings are not sewn close all the way, allowing the user to slide their wing in from the bottom before closing it with snaps, buttons, knots, etc. The wing would then be connected at the… shoulder I guess? The back? By an attachment to a harness. This prevents the wing cover from loosening or moving mid flight and secures the wooden framing against the skeletal structure. The idea would then be that a user could flap their wing normally, but with a larger impact than their wing could usually provide. The wing by wing nature of this general design allows for users to only have 1/4 wings be a second wing, or as many as they need in whichever combo. A more permanent harness attachment would likely be used in those who need both wings in a pair or both pairs, though the single wing approach may also be more practical for those with mobility issues in their wings. Basically, if the problem is lift generation, you can retrofit a wing over top and have a new wing! User cases: those with problems to wing shape (caused by injury or congenital) that hampers flight potential. Tengu with any other problem that does not limit range of motion below what one would typically need to fly with. See chapter 3 for more detail, because I do have a reason why this is the version I have thought about the most.

But speaking of those with mobility problems. What about people who can’t move their wings to the extent needed to fly typically. This is a much harder problem to solve with a second wing obviously, but I have had a few thoughts. To begin, these ones are definitely probably closer in framing to a full frame, because the frame will likely have to act as a brace. This is also the time to tell you I’m not a physical therapist. Anyways I don’t know how to solve this problem but there are a few options

A) the glider acts more like a brace and solid wing. The tengu’s wing(s) is still inside but does not bend, and is likely supported by more internal straps to fasten their wings tighter to the bamboo framing . This likely limits the ability to fly as flapping would not be an option. Though in individuals with upper wing injuries that limit mobility, I really do thing external control with strings controlled by arms or other body parts may be an option for sharp steering that is hard to do by body position alone.

B) Single wing injuries may be able to have rigging of some sort to have the motion of the opposite wing move the injured wing. This would likely be better if the injured wing was tucked away somewhere else and a new wooden boned wing was created.

use cases: those with atrophied ring muscles (though they may be able to move to previous one over time. Those with injuries limiting range of motion.

The last category is for those missing parts of or entire wings. These prosthetics would be the most intense, and would involve not only rigging wings to be able to flap and move via strings or whatever but also a different attachment system custom made to the user’s body. This… I don’t have enough engineering knowledge to imagine this I’m gonna be honest.

Chapter 3: hey why have you even thought about this and how does it pertain to characters (you can stop I’m just oc rambling. But also Kujou Sara)

So I’m gonna be honest and say I have a genshin OC who is a tengu. She is learning to make second wings because her nephew (who is like her little brother!) is a half tengu, and thus his wings are too small and aren’t growing primary feathers at quite the rate to support flight. She thinks that flight is one of the essential qualities that makes a tengu a tengu and not just a human with wings. She thinks he should get to be a tengu, and is thus making prosthetics from scratch even though she is very much not educated to do so.

This would eventually also lead her to talking with Kujou Sara. Thinking about Kujou Sara is a large part of why I have the oc, and also why I basically made her to be a foil to Sara. I don’t think Sara can fly, due to combination atrophy from not using them since I doubt Takayuki would let her go flying really, and injury (from falling off a mountain and whatever else she may have accumulated). Now. I don’t think Sara would like the concept of a mobility aid but also, like, I think it would be good for her to get her feet off the ground and to not have anything bad happen. Kujou Sara should have nice things and maybe one of those things can be talking to someone more immersed in the culture you are disconnected from and discovering things about it. And getting a second opinion on the things that mark you as obviously non human despite your effort to be one.

Anyways make your ocs to explore all the things in a game the game won’t cover, such as: long term ramifications of that war they just had, Yokai culture and self identification of the label, Kujou Sara having screen time and development and even some good things happening to her, Tengu, and wind gliders.

anyways that’s it for tonight my brain is starting to melt. Maybe more if I can think of more later.

#my post #genshin impact #wind glider #Oc tag #Which I will dangerously apply despite never talking about this oc and this post having a high likelihood of getting notes #Maybe I’ll make a reblog to this where I just talk about her.#Yes the way too late brain isn’t 100% sure I remember her name which is why she isn’t getting tagged

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themultifandomgal · 1 year ago

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Hey sweetheart =)

I LOVE your wonderful writing and wanted to thank you for making me happy with your stories. Such a safe place is so important to escape the cruel reality sometimes. I have a request for you and really hope you're up for writing it. Please let me know if you like it. It's a protective Kelly Severide x fem! Oc or reader fic. Kelly has a new neighbor and he's instantly taken aback from this young beautiful woman. Unfortunately she suffers from a heart failure and because of that she's often dizzy and nauseous (maybe Kelly finds her one day nearly passed out on her doorstep and since that day they're getting closer. Worried Kelly... I'm desperate for it :D) after a while she gets to know the whole firehouse which instantly loves the shy girl. She even helps Herman with the Bookkeeping of Molly's. Kelly and the whole team always has an eye on her and helps when she's feeling miserable because auf her heart disease. Her life could be perfect, when there wasn't danger lurking around the corner. She's running from her stalking ex and he seemed to find her. Harassing her with messages and calls on her phone. Her friends from 51 notice her change, the jumpiness and her pale appearance but she brushes it off. One day at Kelly's (they are definitely growing closer even shared a kiss) he "accidentally" reads a text message (because he got suspicious days ago because her mobile is constantly getting messages) from her stalker, but Kelly assumes that she's seeing another man. He confronts her and says some nasty things totally in shock she can't defend herself and he kicks her out. Super dizzy she because of the stress and her alleviated heart rate she stumbles in her apartment, nearly in panic that she lost Kelly. The next day Herman worries that she's more than one hour late, because she wanted to help him at Molly's with the books. He calls Kelly and Kelly, even brooding and full of anger he checks on her. She doesn't opens the door and worried sick he uses his spare keys (he finds her on her bathroom floor on the brink of unconsciousness. She was there the whole night throwing up. With a racing heart and struggling with breathlessness he brings her in his apartment, calling Will in panic....)

Will she reveal her secret, are they come clean with theit feelings for each other? Incoming happy end 🙏🥺

Sorry for this long shit. Couldn't hold my horses. HOPEFULLY it's a content you would like to write about. I'm a sucker for sick fics and protective Kelly with angst, drama and fluff.

Well, send you my best wishes ❤️

Kelly Severide- I’m Here To Stay Pt1

Sorry this took so long for me to write but I hope you enjoyed this one as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Kelly Severide gets ready to leave the firehouse after a long day at work

"Spoken to the new neighbour yet?" Capp smiles wiggling his eyebrows throwing his bag over his shoulder

"Shut up" Kelly crosses his arms

"So that's a no then. Well you never know you might be lucky to tonight"

For the last 2 weeks now Kelly has been giving his new neighbour a small wave and smile, but has yet to introduce himself to her. He finds her rather attractive, but what's weird is normally Kelly has no problem going up to a pretty girl, but YN? YN seems different, there's something about her that makes Kelly loose all of his words. Once his co-workers found this out a week ago, they have done nothing but torture him.

Now YN wasn't unaware of how attractive her neighbour is. He was her type to a tea, but seeing him coming home in his firemen uniform made her shy, to shy to go up and say hi. Not only that but why would she want to bother her new neighbour with her illness? She's already talking to doctors at Chicago med about having a heart valve replacement. Capp was right. That evening Kelly saw YN sat with her head in her hands. He slowly makes his way over to the woman

"Hi, erm are you ok?" YN looks up at Kelly

"Oh erm yeah don't worry. Just had a dizzy spell don't worry"

"Let me help you inside"

"Oh no don't worry I'm fine" YN slowly gets up but starts to sway

"Yeah your not right. Let me help you" giving in YN gives Kelly her keys. He guides her into her house and into the living room and sits her down "let me get you a drink. Where do you keep your glasses?"

"Cupboard above the bread bin, but you really don't need to...." before YN can finish her sentence Kelly has left the room and making his way to the kitchen. He soon returns with a glass full of juice "found some orange squash, thought you could do with a bit of sugar"

"Thank you" YN takes the glass off Kelly

"We've not formally met one another yet. I'm Kelly by the way"

"I'm YN" YN and Kelly shake hands. YN then takes a large gulp of her juice and starts to feel better

"How are you feeling now?" Kelly asks, concern still laced in his voice

"Much better thank you"

That evening the pair spent many hours talking and getting to know one another. A friendship quickly blossomed between the two. After a week Kelly couldn't stop talking about his beautiful, kind and funny neighbour. The rest of the firehouse all knew that his friendship was blossoming into more, even if the pair couldn't yet see it.

YN actually told Kelly about her heart condition fairly early on in their friendship, having this feeling that she can just trust him. Kelly of course has to make sure his new friend is ok, he will text her everyday asking how she is, and now YN will message Kelly by her own accord if she's struggling that day.

Kelly sits at the table with a plate full of food in front of him when he gets a text off YN letting him know she isn't feeling very well today. Kelly sighs putting his sandwich down

"What's up with your face?" Leslie asks sitting opposite Kelly

"Just YN isn't feeling very well today"

"You care a lot about her don't you?"

"We're friends"

"Hmm keep telling yourself that Severide. You care like how a boyfriend would care. Why don't you go and pick her up. Bring her here for the day. That way you can stop worrying about her"

"You think Chief would allow that?" Kelly raises a brow at his best friend who shrugs

"Go ask him" and so Kelly does just that.

At first Boden laughs thinking Kelly was joking, but once he realises how serious he's being, Boden can't do anything but say yes letting YN spend the day at the firehouse, especially after Kelly told him that YN has a heart condition.

That day was spent with YN in Kelly's office, catching up on last nights sleep and Kelly looking after her. Over time YN got closer to Kelly telling him everything about her. About her ex who was to clingy (like obsessive) and how she's trying to stay hidden from him. Of course Kelly took this as his role to keep her safe and look after her.

#one chicago #one chicago imagine #kelly severide x reader #kelly severide x yn#kelly severide imagine #kelly severide x oc #kelly severide #chicago fire imagine #chicago fire

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wisteriagoesvroom · 2 months ago

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for the 5 sentence fic game - malex (Max/Alex), forgiveness? if it's not too out of ur depth :3

ok this was such a good prompt that i bust past 5 sentences and just kept going. so…here we go:

————

Forgiveness

a max/alex drabble, rated g

When Max meets Alex again, it’s a crisp autumn day — the kind where the leaves curl in on themselves, as if holding a secret. What secret, Max doesn’t know, but he has never really been in the habit of keeping many secrets.

The park is not where he expects to see Alex. But that’s the thing about parks. They’re a central nervous system for cities. City planners used to design with this in mind, before cars took over. Max remembers this fact from an encyclopaedia that he used to read, under blanket with a torchlight, when he still had the time to, during karting.

And now, Alex is in the park. Alex is older. Hair the same, if longer than it used to be in their F1 days. Face clean-shaven, but sharper in the cut of his jaw. Eyes, still creasing upwards when he sees a thing he likes.

As it turns out, Alex smiled a lot more when he left Red Bull. His smile practically a quantum force of its own when he finally won a GP.

And as it turns out, to his surprise, Max may be one of the things Alex also likes.

“Is that really you?” Alex exclaims, hands tucked in his pockets, wool scarf loose on his neck. Max feels somehow underdressed in his nondescript hoodie. Being a five time world champion, even over a decade later, meant people would stop you for photos.

“It’s me, mate.”

Alex makes a noise that seems like delight. They do the bro hug, and he animatedly explains that Lily is in Shanghai for a project involving augmented reality home golfing that is run through a mobile phone holoprojector. He rambles a little bit about weather — which for some reason the English still are obsessed with — and Alex asks whether Monaco has changed much (Max tells him it hasn’t).

“Are you heading up to Milton Keynes?” Alex says.

There is no loadedness behind the question. Max has only been back to Milton Keynes for Redline work since he retired.

One thing about Alex is that he was always carefully guarded when he needed to be. But Max never found him truly capable of ill intent.

“No,” Mad says. “I’m actually here because Pen has a thing about horses now. I have a break from touring stables and such.”

“Horses! Ah! There’s this great place down by Richmond, the owner’s an old classmate of mine. Let me pass it to you.”

Classic Alex. Always trying to help out, be nice, create a connection. So Max grabs his phone from his pocket, and lets Alex fuss around with it.

So the task is done, and there isn’t much to do now but move on. That is what Max has done well. Move on, in a way that he knows how, eking out a place for himself in Sim driver development and helping others learn the ropes. Much like Alex clearly has too, remaining as advisor to his last team.

Max finds himself reflecting on the younger men they were so long ago. Max was a lot more impulsive then. Quick to anger, a hunger inside him with so much to prove. But every person who did what they did always had the hunger. It just manifested in a lot of different ways.

And the interaction is nearing its end. But Max still can’t quite find a way to make his legs move. Around them, someone occasionally jogs past, and there are some ducks quacking happily at a nearby pond. It is peaceful.

Alex’s phone buzzes. He glances down at it, brows creasing in concern.

“Sorry, there’s some emergency at home involving my five year old and…” Alex squints at his phone. “A muffin tray of glitter. George is always far too lenient with his godson.”

Max smiles. “I heard about that. George, I mean. Not the glitter. I am not psychic.”

“That would explain your super-powered abilities, wouldn’t it?”

“Ha!” Max says, and he means it. “Anyway, I remember exactly how it is. That age.”

Alex smiles back knowingly.

The leaves rustle in the trees. The ducks are still quacking. The sun peeks out from behind a cloud, warming them both.

It is comfortable, in the way Alex always makes people feel, since the Williams years.

Max stops his leg from twitching.

“Listen, Alex. I never got a chance to say it before.”

“Say what?”

“That I…”

And Max finds himself pondering it. What does he mean? That he’s sorry? Sorry that a formula one team only truly ever has enough room for one person? That he should have asked how Alex was, like how he makes a point to do so now, with all his Redline youngsters? That he wishes he had called or texted him in the intervening years to see how he was, that he wishes they had stayed in touch? That he misses his old cars more than anything in the world, even if he’s happy with what he’s done and the way the puzzle pieces of his life have landed, and he always wonders if other drivers did too?

Max swallows a lump in his throat that he didn’t know was there. In the end, he says exactly what is on his mind.

“I’m really glad that you seem well.”

If that’s not the answer Alex was expecting, he doesn’t show it. He always seems borderline spiritual these days. As if he’s discovered a secret and invites you to understand it. A little bit like a monk, but one who definitely drives over the speed limit. (Max saw that video: a special karting one Alex did for family content, and he still carves a magnificent line.)

The monk in question smiles. It’s warm, like the sun. How lucky for those who grow close enough to Alex, to feel it.

And in that sage, still boyish way of his— surrounded by ducks, subjected to the inclement weather, in the artery of the place where worlds meet — Alex tells Max, back:

“I’m glad for us, too.”

————

from prompt thing here except i will actually try to stick to 5 sentences for the next one(s)

#malex #max verstappen x alex albon #wiz.writing #f1 rpf #first thing I’ve written in over a month!!! thank you anon.#drabble #wiz.askbox #wiz.promptfill #also #first time I’ve written these two and it’s fun <3 #future fics as a vehicle for reminiscence have been on my mind lately #so thanks for gifting me an opportunity to let it out a little

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pumpk1n-writes · 2 years ago

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Tell Me All About The Dark Places You Hide ~ Part Seven

➥ in which the reader figures out that their best friends are the infamous Woodsboro Killers and decides to help them rather than turn them in. {ft. Beth in depth murder scene; stalking; satanism (if you squint); very murder; I had been watching criminal minds (very warning); killing people; seriously if this stuff makes you uncomfortable please don’t read}

Part Six | Part Eight || Word Count ~ 810 words

Taglist ~ @wasawattpadkid @katie-tibo @laurajmcmanus @sparklyphantom @minkyungseokie @misscaller06 @juda-the-simp @severuslovebot @adorlia @billysbae @lilac-fangirl @bloody-delusion-expert @rubyroscoe1 @honeynicoole @ok-boke

You directed both boys to sit on the couch in front of you under the threat of your knife. You laughed in response to Billy’s murderous glare. “Give me any one person to kill to show you how much I want into this thing. You can even be there if you want.”

Stu didn’t hesitate. “Mason Smith.”

Your best friend. Who also happened to have the biggest, fattest crush on you that anyone thought possible.

You shrugged. “He was a trophy anyway. When do you want me to do it?”

Billy was taken aback by how quickly you were able to turn on the ones you claimed to love. Stu, however, was loving it. Maybe he’d finally found someone as messed up in the head as he was. But there was no way to know for sure you weren’t all bark no bite, even though he’d felt your bite firsthand. “Tonight.”

You shrugged again, you were so. . . Chill about this whole thing and it scared him. “As Ghostface or myself?”

“Ghostface, in case you fail and he calls it in I don’t want to get dragged down with you.”

Your eyes flashed angrily before settling on him with a cold stare. “I won’t fail.”

***

Darkness crowded in on you with each passing minute, seeming to leer down on you as you crept through your soon to be ex best friend’s yard. You knew you’d be the prime suspect after this, but you didn’t have any relation to the other victims so you hoped it would be enough to stop them from sniffing up your trail. Your alibi was already figured out. You were helping tutor Billy and Stu for their chemistry classes, and then you fell asleep on Stu’s couch.

Stopping a few feet from his window, crouched in the bushes, you gave Billy the signal to call him. You heard the phone go off in his house, and saw him eagerly jump up to get it, most likely thinking it was you. The tiniest twinge of guilt wriggled its way into your stomach. But it was quickly squashed by the excitement of what was to come.

You heard Mason yelling at Billy. So they’d gotten to the part in the script where you got threatened. Perfect.

“I don’t want to play a fucking game, you psychopath!” You heard. You resisted the urge to peek over the windowsill. If you did that and he happened to see you, your whole jig was up. “Uh,” panic was written in your boyfriend’s voice. “I don’t know! His name was James, or Jacob, or something!”

You could almost feel Billy’s disgusted chuckle and his leering ‘incorrect’. If only your best friend agreed to watch more horror movies with you.

You slipped through the unlocked back door. Unlocked for you. You pushed the tiny voice out of your head and continued until you were behind him. The Ghostface costume was scratchy and uncomfortable, but whoever designed it was a genius, because you still had quite a bit of mobility, even if your visibility was severely lacking.

You tapped his shoulder with the knife, and when he turned around you pulled the mask off and smiled at him with as much sweetness as you could muster up.

“Hello darling.”

He went to ask you what this was all about, still not believing that anything about this was real. He never got to finish the question before you slipped the mask back on and sunk your knife into his throat.

After that you were quick to get to work.

Just as you’d promised Billy a few nights ago, you took Mason’s blood and painted the walls with satanic symbols, writing some random words in Latin on the ground. You only remember a few from your classes three years ago, but Latin combined with the symbols on the walls, all in blood at a murder scene, would probably still throw the police off your track.

The other part of your “how to commit a murder spiel” had been making it as gory as possible, but Mason was already dead. So you slowly and carefully carved down his stomach, smiling at the blood rushing out. You cut his fingers off and scattered them around the kitchen, then washed your hands in his sink.

The very last part, the one to truly throw the police off your scent, was to completely wash the Ghostface mask so there wasn’t any fingerprints or DNA, and leave it next the the body. It was far more brutal than the other murders, and so they would feel an overwhelming urgency to solve this before it got more violent.

And in the process question all the satanists at your school who’d be happy to take the blame for these killings.

#billy loomis scream #scream #scream 1996 #billy loomis #scream 1996 smut #poly!ghostface #poly!ghostface x reader #x reader #stu macher #billy loomis x female reader #stu matcher x reader

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bittersweetcanary · 1 year ago

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Summoner who experiences Chronic Fatigue & Chronic Pain

How the Artw cast reacts to a Summoner with Chronic Fatigue & Chronic Pain. The gender of the Summoner is not mentioned, this can be read as enby, man, woman, trans, etc. :D

Special thanks to Cora ( @adcmans ) for helping me come up with ideas!!

BTW IF you want to add anything please do in the comments, I'd love to hear your ideas!! Or reblog!! :D

[Disability Rep | Pronouns of Summoner not mentioned | Gender of Summoner not mentioned | Some Suggestive Text | Tooth Rotting Sweet at times ]

Spica

Spica’s part has some stuff about the MC/Summoner to explain the context a bit.

You explained your condition to him first, less due to trust and more due to wanting to get accommodated for your disability ASAP, and not being totally sure how to go about that. He seems the most reasonable and accountable of the bunch.

At first, he didn’t quite understand but it certainly didn’t take long with your explanation of your condition. Spica helped you through the process of getting medication through the school due to your… Finances being… Low… (*cough* broke, poor, you have nothing now that you fell through a damn rift- *cough*) Luckily the school easily covered it, taking some of the weight of your anxiety off your shoulders. Wow, their Medicare system is nice. Unlike some places.

Since, to your surprise, Spica checked in on you frequently when you dozed off during meetings or when your pace would slow, asking if you were tired if something hurt, or if you needed to rest.

Spica went with you to pick up some school supplies from one of the village shops, mostly just plenty of pencils with big pencil grips which made it easier to hold. The number of times you’ve lost a pencil simply because it rolled off your desk is… To put it simply, a lot. And a backpack to carry your school stuff in as just holding it wouldn’t quite work for you.

You were quite anxious to start using a mobility aid because then you’d have to explain to everyone why… But Spica made sure to explain to the rest of the Guide Committee just why you were using forearm crutches so they wouldn’t bombard you with questions, after asking if that’d be alright of course.

Upon occasion when you were being stubborn, wanting to keep up with the others, Spica would pull you to the side (-if he had to he would grab your arm just above your elbow and sit you down on the nearest couch beside himself-) and would begin to lecture you- reminding you that it is ok to take breaks & rest. Followed by your comment about his sleep schedule had him stuttering for a moment before coming up with a “good reason” as to why that was totally reasonable. Your expression showed your opinion on that.

It’s safe to say you MADE Spica sleep more hours at night when you could, sometimes he’d be too stubborn. One time he was snappy about it, telling you off harshly though he did apologize later it still stung.

Spica immediately offered to help you ready yourself for the day if you ever felt too tired to do so alone, and you took him up on that offer sometimes, if he could spare some time away from his paperwork.

Spica was the first to offer to take you out for breakfast whenever he could, Arcturus sometimes joined the two of you if they happened to both be free though Spica preferred it to just be the two of you.

Pollux

Before finding out

In class when the Summoner would doze off he’d huff, and puff, but never wake them. Once they woke (or he woke them up after class) he’d chew them out over sleeping through class. Sometimes classes. Threatening to leave them asleep in the classroom next time. (which he never does, it doesn’t take you long to catch on)

You have caught him staring more than once, though you play it off as if you totally didn’t notice him with his head down beside you blatantly gazing at you with big stary eyes.

Sometimes when you’d be writing down your notes your hand would twitch and you’d drop your pencil, having pushed yourself too far. Pollux didn’t notice at first but when you’d take breaks from writing he’d ask why and you’d shrug off his question, picking up the pencil and beginning to work again.

And lunch… Pollux couldn’t quite understand why you’d sleep through lunch of all things, the food was always great. Especially the chocolates he usually kept to himself, that he’d brought as his dessert, he’d sometimes share with you and Arcturus.

Pollux never quite got how you couldn’t keep up with him when he’d run ahead, often telling you to exercise more. It felt insensitive, causing you to show him a bit of a cold shoulder afterward though you knew he just didn’t know about your disability.

Sometimes when you were quite tired and just so happened to be sitting beside Pollux you’d unconsciously doze off while leaning against his shoulder. Pollux would stare at you for a few moments after you leaned against him, then look away and cover his face with his hand, but remain still and quiet so as to not wake you. He would stay there till you woke.

Polly would make rude comments about your disgruntled unkept appearance on bad days, pushing stray hairs into place. Huffed and puffed when he tried fixing up your hair, he got better at that over time. It’s become a sort of daily routine for him to play with your hair during class, sometimes you’d play with his too, he loved it when you did and you could tell by how he squeezed his eyes shut and blushed.

After Spica’s explanation at the meeting

Pollux, much like the others, wondered why you weren’t there till Spica began the Guide Committee meeting. It’s safe to say a lot he was confused about was answered by Spica’s explanation. Why you doze off so much, and why your pencils all have those large grips… And the times you’d just dropped something… He brought up as much during the meeting as he found it concerning that you hadn’t told him, him!.. First... Spica was the most reasonable, he supposed, but you two were close!... Right? He’d work with you on assignments all the time! And share notes… And hangout! (totally didn’t say he wasn’t looking to make friends on day 1)

Pollux is a lil jelly that you didn’t tell him first- he pouts about it.

He was a little pouty around you after that but stopped trying to push you to keep up, or chewing you out over dozing off… Pollux slowed down to your pace whenever he realized he’d been walking at too quick a pace for you. He would constantly glance over his shoulder to make sure you were still there.

He MiGhT try to loop his arm around yours, or just blush a little thinking about it. Maybe if you offered up the idea first he’d go for it.

Alpheratz & Sirius missed the meeting… But Vega didn’t?! Maybe it’s that pathfinding magic, maybe it brought him there? Pollux eyed him up and down, sus.

Will chew anyone out if they harass or bother you at any point about your disability, yap yap BITE!!

The whole hair play routine you two had started kept up, though he’d offer to help you in the morning if that’s okay, totally understandable if you didn’t want someone in your dorm, but it's him so… It’d be ok, right? Just don’t let anyone else in, they might be bad people.

When he and Arcturus showed up at your dorm, they’d be surprised but they are both besties so they help you out together and sometimes you all go out to breakfast at a cafe as a group <3 Sometimes Vega, Alpheratz, Spica, or Sirius might join if they happen to stop by around the same time, or one of them may try to drag you off for themself…

Alpheratz

Before finding out

Alpheratz thought it was a bit weird that you napped nearly as much as him… More than himself sometimes but never questioned it. It was nice having a nap buddy, someone who didn’t nag him for sleeping so often.

After a while he began to expect you to show up at specific nap locations, he’d bring a spare neck pillow just in case you needed one. And a spare blanket.

Sometimes he’d catch you rubbing at your knees or ankles as if they hurt but when he’d as if something happened you’d say you were just a little tired.

When you would yawn constantly throughout the day despite having napped alongside him he suspected something may be wrong, occasionally checking your health with his magic but not totally understanding what he saw. Alpheratz began to look into possibilities while you napped in the library with him.

He never really kept his appearance up so when you looked messy it didn’t really phase him, though he’d ask teasingly if your messy hair was some sort of new trend.

Finding out

Slept through the meeting assuming it’d be something unimportant- immediately regretted it after Pollux filled him in after he asked you about your mobility aid while the three of you were out at a sweets shop. Alpheratz had been downright staring at your forearm crutches the entire way there, with a very concerned expression.

Pollux scolds Alpheratz- they bicker a little. It’s cute. Then Alpheratz shoves some gummy worms into Pollux’s mouth to shut him up. Pollux stares Alpheratz down, crossing his arms, frowning, and furrowing his brow as he slowly chews the gummy worms.

After finding out

Now he knows what’s wrong and has a better grasp of just what his magic was showing him when he checked up on you.

From then on when you’d nap together Alpheratz made it a habit to check your physical health status using his magic, just to make sure you were ok. Sometimes he would check in to make sure you took your medication, knowing how forgetful you can be.

When he could, Alpheratz would join you, Arcturus, and Pollux for lunch, to spend time with you and make sure you took your meds.

Sometimes, if you seemed more tired than usual or if he saw you over-exerting yourself he’d just pick you up and take you to a comfy spot to nap. After the first few times, you weren’t so surprised. But the first time… You nearly kicked him between the legs and punched his face- in your defense, you didn’t know it was him, AND like wtf- you both laughed it off.

Both of you worked together to make a little “club room” in the back of the library, you both deemed it the Nap Club Tent. It was a sizeable tent- (you guess the only reason the school allowed you to get away with this was because Alpheratz’s grandfather wanted Alpheratz to warm up to him) inside the tent were plenty of blankets, pillows, and a well-padded floor. Some plushies too, those were purely your touch at first, then Alpheratz added some that he thought you’d like.

Sometimes Alpheratz would offer to help you get ready for the day, a slight blush on his cheeks, then he would quickly offer to hire someone else to help care for you if you wanted.

When you’d go out as a group with Arcturus and Pollux for breakfast he would sometimes join, offering to pay for you and the others though sometimes he’d get up extra early just to take you out by himself.

Arcturus

Before finding out

Arcky found it odd that you would yawn so often, and how you seemed to occasionally limp, but if he pointed it out you’d brush it off and adjust your posture and how you walked. He’d frown, he wasn't sure what was going on but how you acted gave him a bad feeling.

Sometimes when you looked incredibly drowsy while standing he would ask if you needed to sit down with furrowed brows, just what weren’t you telling him?

When he would ask if something was wrong you’d change the topic with ease, Arcturus couldn’t remember what he’d asked after talking about some other random thing.

He had asked Spica if he noticed it as well… Which led Spica to ask you which kicked off the conversation.

Began occasionally stopping by your dorm in the mornings if he was free after seeing how messy and tired you looked most days, offering to help you prepare for the day. He helped when he could though he would often ask you why you looked so tired.

Finding out

Spica explains the situation to him first, being the only other Fili Pferer & Spica’s most trusted confidant. Arcturus was a little worried and sad that you hadn’t told him personally but understood it was probably difficult to talk about. Still pouted a little. But only a little!

After finding out

He helped to explain your disability to Vega and Pollux with Spica.

Later he ran into Sirius… After being chased by that big black dog!! Scary!! He updated Sirius on the recent meeting, assuming he’d just been too busy with missions to show up! Why else would his friend miss the meeting, he must’ve had a good reason! Though Arcky didn’t push Sirius to tell him why he’d missed the meeting.

Arcturus would constantly check up on you whenever he could. (when random Fili Pfere sorcerers weren’t dragging him around) Sometimes he’d go overboard and continue to ask you what he could do to help till you told him you were alright, only then would he stop and sigh in relief.

He likes to offer to make food for you, get you a drink, or sometimes he will just leave a snack with a cute little note wishing you well if he finds you napping. (with a little smiley face)

Will also cover you with a blanket and place a pillow beneath your head VERY CAREFULLY if you don’t already have a blanket and/or pillow.

Might gaze at you for a while if you doze off while hanging out with him before sputtering if you ask him why he was staring.

Began to make it a point to stop by your dorm in the morning to help you prepare for the day whenever he was free, knowing that sometimes just keeping up with your hair and skin care was difficult. Then he would walk with you to the cafeteria for breakfast.

Loves having breakfast with you and Pollux, he wishes the others would join you all more often!! Super excited and happy when everyone or almost everyone shows up!!

Vega

Before finding out

Vega arrived at the meeting right on time to Spica, Pollux, and Arcturus’s surprise. He felt that he should be there, for this particular meeting.

It was plain to see that you weren’t getting enough sleep, the bags under your eyes were telling and the yawning at 9 a.m.! Your symptoms stressed Vega out quite a bit to the point he would constantly be on you about getting plenty of sleep.

Might force you to go back to bed if you doze off during breakfast.

After Spica’s explanation at the meeting

Vega is incredibly worried about you. However, the way he shows this feels more like a nagging older sibling. Sometimes he would give you harsh lectures when you push yourself a little too far.

One time he offered to carry you when you felt too tired to walk, your knees hurting, but when he tried- he apologized so many times after you both fell. His cheeks were utterly red when he looked up at you, atop him, before you got up. From then on, when he was with you he made sure no one blocked your path.

“ MAKE WAY SUMMONER IS TIRED “

If you ever decided to bring up that one time he tried to carry you he’d just DIE.

Constantly offers to carry anything he can for you just to take some of the weight off your shoulders. He will do whatever he can to help.

Grumpy if he can’t have breakfast with you by himself. Might try to drag you away, if only he could. Will not respond to anyone unless the topic is you. Or if he is talking to you.

Sirius

Before finding out

Sirius didn’t say much, other than teasing you over just what could be keeping you up to make you that tired. “Were you thinking of me last night Summoner~? I’m so flattered~”

Sometimes he would drag you about with him on a random mission or just more fun which hurt your joints a LOT, when you would tell him you needed to slow down and rest he would tell you to keep pushing forward if you ever want to build your endurance. Not giving what you said or your actions a second thought as he brushed you off.

It certainly stung each time he’d brush you off so you began to give him the cold shoulder if he tried to drag you along one of his schemes.

After Arcturus’s explanation

Spica didn’t specify what the meeting was about beforehand so he just skipped it. Or maybe he would’ve anyway? He’s busy, but with what? O-o sus.

When Arcturus showed up, with the black dog playfully giving chase, he was told what the meeting was about. Though he brushed Arcturus off at first. But when Arcturus mentioned that it was about you, Sirius listened.

How’d he not notice sooner? When thinking back, it seemed quite obvious…

Your pained expression to the sheer amount of times you dozed off… You even told him you needed a break so many times and he just brushed you off… He swore at himself for not thinking more about your health. Adding to the list of things he loathes about himself.

After finding out

Sirius was noticeably more careful around you, not yanking you about or pushing you to keep up with him. Instead, he would pull you into little hidden nooks to hide or teleport away with you in his arms, to hide from the other Sorcerers when he blew something up again.

Slowly you warmed up to him after he began to actually listen to you, but you were always at least a little wary of his intent.

To make up for his carelessness he spoiled you as much as you would let him for a good month, he swore to get you anything if you’d forgive him but you just wanted him to understand and that he did. And still got you things he knew you liked.

If you felt too tired to apply makeup(if you wear that), nail polish, clean your face, and or fix your hair in the morning he’d be there to help, offering to do so when you looked worse for wear and insisting that you call him whenever if you need help getting ready for the day ahead at any time! He would be there, anything for his Summoner.

Sirius also just loved to get to do your hair and nails, and help you choose out a cute outfit for the day! Totally didn’t attempt to peek at you changing like a perv. Denies it after he was caught. Doesn’t try again, but teases you, asking if you’d give him a show.

Beats Alpheratz at getting up early just to take you out to breakfast first, will tease him about it if Alpheratz asks where you’ve been.

Sirius ends up taking you to breakfast quite often when he isn’t out on a mission, sitting beside you with his hand on yours.

#arcana twilight #arcana twilight pollux #artw #arcana twilight spica #arcana twilight alpheratz #arcana twilight sirius #twilight arcana arcturus #twilight arcana vega #disability #disabilityrep #disability representation #rheumarthritis #rheumatoid arthritis

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billthedrake · 2 years ago

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GOALS (PART ONE)

Story idea by and collaboration with top son Turner ([email protected]).

[SCOTT]

"So what are your goals, Mr. D?"

We were sitting in a side area of a large cinderblock-construction room that was part of a gym the next town over. It was more of a lifter's gym for serious dudes, and a change of pace from the corporate health club I normally went to downtown. And certainly a change from the country club where I golfed on the weekends or on days off.

But when I hit 50 and decided to get a personal trainer, I'd scoured the online listings and read reviews and came across a familiar face: Austin White, a baseball player who'd dated my daughter back in high school. Well, he wasn't playing baseball these days but had graduated from college and was now working back in a nearby suburb as a personal trainer.

"You don't have to call me Mr. D," I reminded him. "You're no longer dating Shannon."

The trainer flashed a pearly white smile. He definitely had Lady Killer written all over him. Strikingly handsome-cute, laidback, and no small amount of easy charm. "Sorry, Scott," he laughed softly. "Old habits..."

I smiled back. "Yeah.... hope you didn't mind me looking you up." It had seemed like a great idea at the time, but now that I was face to face with Shannon's ex boyfriend, I realized there was something a little awkward about it all.

Austin put me at ease. "Glad you did, Scott," he said. "But you didn't answer my question."

"My goals?" I prompted, recalling what he'd asked me. "Well, I turned 50 last week..."

"50's a number," he said, challenging me some. "Not a goal."

I nodded. "I guess I've let myself go some, to be honest. I'd like to get back in shape... healthier. And I guess there are some personal reasons, too," I admitted shyly.

He flashed that Lady Killer smile again. "I'm a professional Scott... you can tell me."

I chuckled. "Well, I'm hoping to rekindle things in the bedroom, you know?"

I felt dumb saying it, particularly to a dude as young and jacked as Austin. But he didn't miss a beat. "That's a pretty good motivation, Scott," he grinned. "And common, too. It's good to be honest with yourself about what drives you." He picked up his clipboard to take notes. "OK, so we know a big goal... any others?"

I filled him in on some lingering back and hip issues. They didn't keep me from being active, but they affected my golf game sometimes. "I'm afraid I haven't always prioritized being active," I said, no longer embarrassed but feeling proud I was taking the first step to being a better Scott Delahunt. "You know, long hours, lots of sitting at a desk..."

"Still doing the executive thing?" Austin asked.

"Yes. CFO," I clarified. "Though at a different company than when I last saw you."

"That's cool," he said. "And we'll work on your back and hip and see if we can improve your overall mobility... training's not a substitute for physical therapy of course but it can complement it," the guy added thoughtfully. "I work with all types of clients, but I specialize in men over 40.... you know more functional training and flexibility."

"Sounds great," I said.

"I just want to make sure my clients are on the same page with expectations."

"I'm putty in your hands, good sir," I half joked.

He laughed. "All right, Scott," he said, standing up from his chair. "Let's do some measurements and a few diagnostics." Austin had put on some muscle since high school for sure, and the form-fitting zip-up and joggers showed off a body that was big but that somehow didn't look overly musclebound. This young dude was definitely gonna be some inspiration for my own fitness journey.

I stepped on the scale. "198," Austin read out. "And 6-foot-even?" he asked.

"Maybe a hair shy, but yeah, 6 foot." I stepped off. "I really would love to lose the spare tire," I said, patting my midsection. I didn't have an outright beer belly, but I had some major love handles and midlife spread there.

Austin's easy smile was gone and he was in full business mode. "We'll work on it," he assured me, gesturing me over to a mat to do a timed plank. "There's no quick fix," he explained as he started the stopwatch. "No crash diets, either... I believe in strength training first as a foundation and then we'll work on the rest, OK?"

"Yeah," I grunted. I was holding my own I guess, but my lack of regular exercise was biting me in the ass, hard.

I did better on some of the diagnostics and not as hot on the other.

"I told you, Austin," I said. "You're getting a real project." Pulling out the self deprecating humor.

He was still in business mode. "I'm not one of those hardass trainers, but I have only one rule, Mr. D," he said, his old nickname slipping back. "No comparing yourself to anyone else. If you're on social media, I want you off it. In here, for 60 minutes twice a week, it's going to be about you... what you're doing and what you can do better and how we can get you there. Not any of the other guys. OK? "

"Got it," I said. It felt weird being bossed around by a man half my age, but Austin was the one with the Instagram body. I'd follow his lead.

We walked on toward the locker area. "And one other thing you'll learn about me, Scott," he added with a wink. "I have more than one rule."

****

[AUSTIN]

"Beast!" I grunted in encouragement as Scott pumped out a personal record on the bench press. He even did two reps without my spot, before I helped him on the third. As I helped guide the bar back into pace I saw his exertion-red face and concerted look break into a wide smile.

Psychology is a big part of my job. Every client is different and has different things that motivate them as well as different reasons they weren't motivated before they came to me. Being a trainer doesn't mean being a miracle worker, but you try to figure out what's going to work for a man or woman in the gym.

But I'd never seen a man respond so well to encouragement as Scott. I honestly didn't know what to expect when Shannon's dad first contacted me. But I always liked the guy, and he'd always made me feel welcome when I was over at the Delahunt house. He'd always take the time to say hello or chat and ask me how the baseball season was going or what colleges I was considering. When anyone else had grilled me about college, it felt like pressure - like "are you good enough for my daughter" BS - but with Mr. D, it felt like genuine interest.

Now that I'd been training the man for over a year, I'd gotten to see another side of him. He was guarded at first, but after a few months he'd started being more open. Something about the extra time to chat in the gym does wonders for getting the conversation flowing. He didn't talk ill about Mrs. Delahunt, but the man was clearly frustrated in his marriage. I was getting the picture of a man who'd thrown himself into a high-powered career and who liked to show off the spoils of financial success. And he wasn't happy.

"Give it a couple minutes rest," I said as Scott sat up, stretching his arms a little and rubbing out the burn in his triceps. "And maybe we can try for 10 more?"

"Oh yeah," the executive said enthusiastically. "Let's do it."

As he cooled down for a bit, he asked. "You doing anything this weekend, Austin?"

I was putting two fives on the barbell. "My Dad's coming to visit."

Scott looked into my face. "You're not excited are you?" he said, observant as hell.

I sighed. "I don't know, Scott... a dumb part of me looks forward to it every time.... but when he's here, it's like we don't have anything to talk about. He'll spend a couple hours with me, then go meet up with one of his buddies instead."

Scott didn't try to tell me it was OK. Or make excuses for my Dad. He just listened. "That's tough, guy," he finally said. "I guess some parents aren't good with the emotional stuff."

He got into place and went for another set. I had to spot him for a good deal of that one rep. I could read the disappointment in his face.

"Give it a longer rest," I urged. "Refocus. You got this, Scott."

The next attempt wasn't pretty, but it was all Scott. And the beaming look of pride in his face after was one of those moments that makes my job worth it.

[SCOTT]

"You hear from Shannon lately?" Austin asked between squats. He'd been pushing me more on leg days lately, and I was starting to see progress.

I never knew for sure why Austin and Shannon broke up, but Austin was a grade ahead of Shannon and gone off to college before her. A part of me wondered if Austin still had a thing for my daughter, but I figured this was just something to talk about, the connection that first brought us together in the gym.

"Not lately. I only hear from her when she needs money," I said wryly.

"Oof," my trainer gave a "that hurts" wince. "For real?"

"I exaggerate some," I explained. "But not a lot. Sometimes it feels like she sees her Daddy as a living, walking credit card."

Austin gave me a reassuring, empathetic look. "Well, at least she's probably having a blast in college, right?"

It was the perfectly timed joke, and it made me crack up. "That she is, buddy," I said.

I got in place and knocked out another set of squats. It was a struggle, but I got to eight.

"Nice," I heard Austin say. Then he added some weights.

"Sorry if I'm out of line, Scott, but Shannon is a spoiled B. She kind of always was."

I grimaced. He was right, but I didn't appreciate him talking about my daughter like that. "Maybe she is, but I take some responsibility in that. Kelly too... we both spoiled her growing up. We just wanted her to have the finer things, you know."

Austin gave me a look that said he felt contrite, even if he wasn't saying his apology out loud. "Better than the opposite, Scott," he said. "You're there for her, that's what matters."

"Things been rocky with your Old Man lately?" I asked.

Austin shrugged. He had a jock's bluster, but I could tell he hid how much things bothered him. Even discussing his relationship with his father, he tried to pass it off in an even, unaffected tone. "Worse. I haven't heard from him in two months. I left a couple of voice mails, but felt like some desperate chick wanting a second date."

"I take it you speak from experience in brushing off desperate chicks," I teased, trying to change the subject.

Austin grinned. God, he really was a strikingly handsome young man. "Ah, I talk a big game, Scott. Truth is, I guess I'm just waiting for the right one, you know."

It was adorable to see this muscled up ex-jock act shy, and endearing too. "I'm sure she'll come, Austin," I assured him. "Probably sooner than you think."

He looked at me as if he was trying to decide whether he could share a secret. He did. "It'd be a 'he,' Scott."

"Oh," I muttered dumbly. It didn't even occur to me that Austin would be gay. In fairness, I knew him first as Shannon's boyfriend.

The guy went into reassuring mode. "I don't generally share my personal business," he said. "With any of my clients..."

There was the Mr. Business side of my trainer coming out. Serious, professional.

"I'm glad you did, Austin," I said. "Um, is that why things didn't work out with you and Shannon?" Maybe none of my business, but I was curious as hell.

He didn't seem fazed by my question. "Yes and no. I mean I didn't decide I really preferred men until college. But even in high school I felt I wasn't 100% into dating the girls I was with. No disrespect to your daughter..."

"None taken," I assured him.

I did another set. It was getting really fucking hard now. "Let's stretch some," Austin said, a signal we were done with squats for the day.

On the mat, Austin guided me through some gentle stretches.

My curiosity was still getting the best of me.

"So... you have any boyfriends in college?" I asked. Before stopping myself. "Sorry... that's none of my business."

He didn't admonish me but just said softly. "Yeah, like I say I don't advertise my personal business."

[AUSTIN]

Like with a lot of clients, I told Scott not to weigh himself at home constantly. We'd step on the locker room scale once a month. That way, he'd be focused on strength and diet and not on the ups and downs.

I could tell he was nervous that day as he stepped on, wearing only his compression. I tried to act normal around Scott Delahunt, but the man was my type to a T. Older, just the right amount of muscle, clean cut daddy. A year and a half of training had done wonders for an already good looking man. His back had a nice curve and definition and his shoulders and arms were swells of rounded muscle. He still had a little padding on his middle but his gut was solid muscle behind it. He'd definitely lost some extra weight.

"190!" he beamed. "I haven't weighed 190 since my 30s," he said as he stepped off the scale and turned toward me. Scott wasn't overly hairy but he had a nice pelt of light brown hair on his now defined chest and torso.

"And some of that is extra muscle," I reminded him. "So... you told me your goal when we started... any luck in the bedroom?" I tried to make it sound professional, or maybe buddy-to-buddy. But lately I'd been thinking way too much of Scott Delahunt having sex.

He shook his head. "Not really," he said. I expected a sad sack expression but instead he just replied, "But I've decided I'm doing this for me, actually."

"Yeah?" I asked. I wasn't sure if he was just parroting what he thought I wanted to hear.

"It's about time I focused on what makes me happy, you know?"

"You should," I said. "You deserve that."

He gave me a grateful look. But he didn't respond. Instead, it was like he was displaying his body for me. Not lecherous exactly, and I think I did a damn good job of hiding my attraction to him. But it was like he wanted a gay dude's approval of his improved physique. Some straight dudes have hang ups about gay men checking them out, but I've met a couple of buds who feel they can trust me with my assessment of them physically.

I ventured a compliment. "You're looking really good, Scott. Muscle, definition, and the slimmer midsection are really coming together," I said. "Incredible progress, really."

He ate it up. "I couldn't be doing it without you, buddy. For real."

I forced myself to stop ogling his half naked body, as I told him I'd see him for our session Friday.

When I got home, though, I jerked off. A nice heavy load just imagining mounting Scott doggy style and pounding him hard and fast. As I cleaned up, I had to laugh at how turned on I was by this 51 year old corporate exec. Like, I always had to pine for the unavailable ones.

I just hoped for his sake that Scott Delahunt was getting laid that night.

[SCOTT]

It was tough getting back into the gym after two weeks. Austin kind of laughed as I showed my frustration at not being able to bench nearly as much as before.

"Been there, Scott," he patted my shoulder as I sat up. He'd been doing that more lately, touching me. Nothing too weird or invasive, kind of like one close buddy might do for another. But knowing Austin was a gay dude made me read something into it, I suppose. Not that he'd be into a middle-aged man like me. But I did find myself wondering a lot about the kind of men Austin was into. I chalked it up to idle curiosity. Austin had opened up a lot to me as we trained and talked, but he kept one part of himself private.

"How was Italy?" he asked.

"Incredible," I replied. "Villa in Tuscany, good weather, amazing food... what's not to like?" I started.

"That's awesome," Austin said. He seemed to enjoy living vicariously through his clients' vacations, and I knew that as a trainer he probably didn't have the time or money to do any big travel.

I nodded. "Yeah, but this sounds spoiled as hell to say... but I would have been as happy on one of your Smokies camping weekends." Austin grew up in the east part of the state and still enjoyed getting up into the mountains from time to time.

He gave me a sympathetic look. "Yeah, why's that?"

I shrugged. I felt like sometimes I unloaded a lot onto my trainer, but it was like he was the one guy who'd understand. "I dunno... With Kelly, it sometimes feels like things have to be perfect... you know, THE best winery and THE best private tour... and she spends half the vacation posting the pictures on Facebook so her friends all know how she's having THE best fucking vacation.... sorry, man, I know I'm being a jaded asshole."

Austin patted my shoulder again. That touch against my warm shoulder through my workout shirt. "Not at all, man. You just have a better perspective on life is all." He gave me another pat. "Ready for another set?"

I nodded and got back into place. We finished up at the bench and went to do a superset of dumbbell exercises.

I was a little out of breath when we finally paused.

"Tough, huh?" Austin said, reading my face.

I nodded, not quite formulating a word. "Yah. Sorry."

"Take a sec," he assured me. He had me drink some water.

As we went to do some stretches and core work, our conversation resumed.

"So... I didn't know you were into camping," Austin said.

"I'm not," I replied. "At least I haven't done it since I was a boy scout. But the idea of getting away from Brentwood seems real appealing sometimes."

Austin squatted down next to me and reached over to pull my hip to correct my form. "No offense, Scott, but you're Brentwood through and through."

I laughed. "Yeah, I guess," I said. Austin was originally from a small town in east Tennessee and had moved to the Nashville suburbs when he was 12. He seemed to have mixed feelings about the tony suburbs we lived in, and I had a hard time figuring them out. "Guilty as charged."

"I'm just razzing ya, Scott," Austin said, that easy going charm coming back.

[AUSTIN]

I'd taken a break from the apps. I told myself it was healthy to do so, but maybe it was healthier to get laid. In case, Scott's break from the gym somehow made me miss the guy. I was becoming crushed out on my client. I told myself that was because I wasn't getting any daddy ass.

My profile was clear. 24yo total top clean cut jock into masculine 40+ daddies. Inexperienced OK. Married or DL OK. Just be willing and ready to take care of my 7.5 inch cock. No-strings fun only.

I had a great set of pictures that got a lot of bites. That first weekend of Scott's vacation I got messaged by five men. Two just weren't my thing, two were smoking hot, and one was OK. I messaged the smoking hot daddies back and clicked with a businessman staying downtown. He wasn't Scott Delahunt hot but he was my type. 48, balding, strong barrel chested build, trimmed goatee. He was married but played when he was out of town. I assured him I was totally discreet.

It had actually been six months since I'd hooked up with a guy. I remembered now how fun it could be. Even dealing with the traffic heading into downtown. When I got to his hotel room, he'd just gotten out of the shower, freshly cleaned for me, and had a towel wrapped around his waist. He had a soft belly, not big but more along the lines of what Scott had when he started with me. His front was incredibly furry and I found the swirls of hair incredibly hot.

"Hey," he grinned as he led me in. He could barely take his eyes off me. I'm not an egotist... well, I am a little. But it's great to have that silent appreciation of my looks. His words made it explicit. "Man," he said in a deeper-South accent. "I thought you wouldn't live up to your pictures, but you're incredible."

My eyes swept his body too. He wasn't the hottest man I'd ever slept with but I loved his real dad-ness... married-with-kids Southern daddy, deep voice, ex-jock vibe. "I'm liking what I see, too," I growled, pulling my shorts up to let my boner ride up. I had been looking forward to some release real bad.

He seemed like he'd won the lottery ticket. "Dang! You really do go for older guys don't ya?"

"Exclusively," I said. I loved the chance to be direct with men about my sexual preferences. I stepped up to him and ran my hands along the soft furred belly before slipping my hands around his waist to pull him toward me for a kiss.

Some married guys aren't into kissing. I forgot to ask if Business Daddy was OK with it. He was. Or made an exception for me. He was used to soft kissing from a woman and was surprised by my approach. But he got into it and was soon pawing at my T-shirt, feeling up my muscle.

I was getting worked up, fast. My fingers undid his towel and felt up the bare buns. Some men like Scott Delahunt had to work to develop a thick round ass. This guy had the genetics for it. I could be satisfied with a nice slow BJ from a hot daddy, but knowing from our DMs that this guy wasn't virgin made me really want to tap his hole.

"What are your thoughts on the D word?" I growled. Business Daddy seemed real into me, and I felt I had the cards, at least enough to push this.

"Daddy?" he asked, to clarify.

"'Dad' is even hotter to me," I said, taking his wrist and guiding it to the hard ridge in my mesh shorts. Instantly his thick fingers curled greedily around it.

He gulped. "Never done that scene," he admitted. "But if it turns you on, buddy..."

"It turns me the fuck on," I assured him. I kissed him again then kissed and licked along his ear lobe. "Why don't you get down and suck my dick, Dad?" I whispered.

He had a naughty look on his face as he crouched down. The man wasn't all that hung and his shorter dick stood out like a spike from his hairy crotch as he got down. He peeled down my shorts, like he was unwrapping a Christmas present.

"Dang... fucking big piece ya got, buddy," he hissed, taking it in his hand and licking it. "Go easy on me, will ya?"

"Yeah, Dad," I hissed, not wanting to get out of this scene now that I had the green light. Then I felt his warm mouth descend on me. Business Daddy wasn't experienced but I wasn't his first cock either. It was a nice sweet spot. I imagined my father doing this to me. Sucking me, learning how to suck me.

"That's it, Dad," I grunted. "Suck your boy. Love your hot fucking mouth on my dick, sir." Some guys were turned off by my verbal approach, and others were way turned off by the incest scene. That's one reason I sometimes found hookups not to be satisfying. It was hard to develop a rapport to go deep with a one-off guy.

But Business Daddy was getting into it, sucking me more fully now, with a bit more of a slow suction that was getting me worked up. I watched his balding head bob up and down on my crotch. My own father had more hair, though it too was thinning. Like Scott Delahunt's.

"If you keep sucking, Dad, I'm gonna cum," I warned. "But I really wanna fuck you, sir."

Business daddy pulled off and took one admiring look at my spit wet dong. "Damn you are a pervy fucker," he laughed.

I kicked off my shorts and peeled off my T-shirt. "Yeah I'm a perv," I replied. In the past I might have felt embarrassed but now I was unapologetic. I fisted my cock and looked him in the eye. "When was the last time you got fucked?"

He seemed to be on the defensive now, and I worried I let my horns get the worst of me. If I fucked this up....

"Two years," he said softly. "I don’t usually...."

"You enjoy it?" I questioned him.

He nodded, blushing some. "A little too much."

"You got ready for me, right?" I just wanted to remind him of the reason I was there and not hooking up with one of the other guys.

He nodded. "You're intense, you know that right?" he said. Like his physical attraction to me was countered by a vibe that just wasn't working for him.

"I'm just horny, man," I explained. "I haven't fucked a guy in six months. I fucking miss it."

"A dude like you... I would have thought..." he started and didn't have to finish.

"Let me eat you for a bit," I said. "I want you to want this, man."

He nodded and got on the bed, pulling his legs back. Fuck, that hole was beautiful. Furry dad trench with a nice tight hole. I got in place and examined it, taking my time before leaning in and licking. Business Daddy was squeaky clean and I took the opportunity to go to town, really feasting on that ass like it was my last meal.

It was a nice cool down from the BJ and the Dad-talk earlier but also worked me up in a way.

"Lube?" I asked when I finally pulled back. He gestured to the small table on the other side of the bed. I went around and Business Daddy scooted to reposition himself on the bed.

I took my time fingering him, talking with him about men and cocks and fucking. I avoided the Dad-Son stuff since I wanted to build the vibe rather than kill it.

"So..." I said as I now slid three slick fingers in and out of his stretched tightness. I had the conquerer gene in me, I suppose, because I LOVED the idea of getting a hole that had barely been fucked. "We talked a little earlier... I'm on PREP and get tested regularly... I'd love to get in you raw, sir."

"I've never done that," he whispered, but I could see his shorter, fatter dick throb as I worked the first inches of his insides.

"Is that a NO?" I challenged him. I was going to respect his wishes, but I was gonna do my damnedest to get the fuck I wanted then.

"Go ahead, man," he said. "I trust ya."

I scooted up and lined my bare cock against his ring. It took some work, alternating fingering with some teasing with my cock. But I finally breached him in a way that was comfortable for him.

"Easy," I hissed as I rubbed his soft belly and pushed deeper. "Just going slow here.... you got this."

He took a deep breath and nodded. "Feels good actually," he said. His eyes had been on mine but now he looked all over my body. "You're so fricking hot."

I grinned. "You like the jocks, huh?"

"I do," he replied. Not embarrassed, but forthright.

"You wanna tell me about any of them?" I was pushing the envelope for sure, but my cock was almost bottomed out in his hole.

He gave me a grin. "I don't play around at home... but there's the neighbor kid. Got a football scholarship at Ole Miss... hot fucker."

I plowed in. Business Daddy accepted me, his dick thwapping excitedly at the full penetration. "You wish he was here fucking you now?"

"God, man," Business Daddy was the one getting into the pervy headspace now. He reached up and clenched at my sides. Hungry. I gave him the kiss he craved. Then I started thrusting into him.

"I'd love both of you guys at once," he admitted. "Tag teaming me."

"That'd be hot," I leered, really getting into this. I rarely got to do this level of verbal with a guy, and it was really working me up. "Two jocks... taking turns.... opening up that Daddy hole."

"Yes," he hissed... "fuck me, stud!"

I was getting more athletic with my pumps. "Been too long hasn't it, Daddy... since you had a young cock in ya?"

Maybe the D word was pushing it, but Business Daddy picked it right up. "God yeah, son. Fuck your Dad!"

Oh jesus. The surprise of those words, and the deep Southern accent of them had my balls pumping. Not a pre-orgasmic warning, but the real deal. I was ejaculating hard into this older business man.

"That's it, son. Get your nut. Show Dad what ya got." For a man who didn't seem into pervy role play, he sure knew what to say now.

I growled my way through my deep orgasm and then kind of fell on him, reclaiming a kiss as my dick pumped out its dribbles into his conquered hole.

I gathered my senses and got back into the original position, squirting some lube on his spike and slowly pumping him as I urged him off. I even had him describe that Ole Miss tight end in detail. His whole body went beet red as he came, and I knew it was a major orgasm for him too.

We made small talk afterwards. He even said he'd hit me up next time he was in Nashville. "You're a wild one, buddy... but I sure as hell enjoyed the ride."

[SCOTT]

"You got anything going on this weekend?" I asked Austin as he had me do some shoulder raises. I'd been trying to find a nonchalant time to bring it up.

He examined my form and counted my reps silently. "Good," he said as I finished the set and set the dumbbells down on a bench. "Nothing really going on. What about you, man?"

I stood squarely to face him. He was the young jacked stud, but I was getting more proud of my body after a year and a half of working out with him, and more confident in my skin, so to speak. "Well, the Titans have a home game Sunday. I was wondering if you wanted to go see them with me," I ventured.

There came that pearly white smile again, and an excited kid-like look. "What, you got tickets?"

"Two of them," I boasted. "I got 'em through work. A buddy of mine was going to go but had to back out." That second part was a lie.

Austin showed some concern. "Man, I'd love to. Hell, I'd really love to. But I can't afford that." I got the feeling he was an independent-spirited man who didn't like to be beholden to others.

"The ticket's just gonna go to waste,” I said, “and I'll enjoy having someone to go with." I saw his resolve start to melt, so figured I could lay out the rest of my plan. "It's an afternoon game, we can get a hotel downtown for the night and live it up a little. Come on... Kelly's doing some girls trip to Napa, and I have a real bachelor's weekend I want to enjoy."

Austin smiled. "Well, when you put it that way.... jesus, I can't believe you have fucking Titans tickets. You go often?"

I could sense a real envy in his tone. "Yeah, from time to time," I admitted. "I did season tickets a couple years ago, but Kelly griped that my Sundays were all taken up."

He smiled. "I bet these tickets are great seats, too, aren't they?" Teasing me.

"Pretty damn good," I smirked. "We're gonna have a blast, buddy."

[AUSTIN]

I was in a good mood. Strike that, I was in a great mood. The Titans had beaten the Texans but even if they hadn't I just enjoyed being in Nissan Stadium and shouting my lungs out. Scott seemed bemused how into it I was but didn't say anything. The man struck me as something more than a fair weather fan and less than a diehard fan.

But I was grateful for the ticket and that he'd had me tag along. He insisted on covering the hotel room. "Trust me I got a million hotel points to burn through," he countered. So I got the tab as we grabbed beers in one of the downtown bars.

It was a lot of regular guy talk. About the game and the upcoming Titans season. About how September can be the best month in Nashville. About his wife's wine trip and their fall plans. About the cheat day Scott was having and how my metabolism let me get away with stadium concession food and day drinking on occasion.

God, he looked good. Great even, in his snug pale blue Titans T-shirt that clung to his arms and pecs and the hint of dad gut he was still chipping away at. I never saw him outside of the gym, at least not since I'd dated his daughter. He was so focused working out, like that was a second job to him. But this was Scott Delahunt in the mood to let down his hair. Smiling, happy, joking.

Maybe that's what led me to let my hair down too.

"It was my professor," I blurted.

"What?" he asked.

Maybe I enjoyed catching him off guard. But I clarified. "You once asked me who I dated in college. It was my Chemistry professor."

Scott looked at me like I was kidding him. "Are you teasing me?"

I shook my head. "Nah. You're the first guy I've ever told actually. Buy yeah for two years... I don't know if dating was the right word, but it wasn't casual either. He was my first boyfriend."

I kind of wondered if Scott would be put off by the admission. Or even the gay talk. But he seemed laidback about it, and he'd been the one to ask. He took a sip of beer and eyed me up, like he was still trying to decide if I was on the level. "Was this while you were his student or after?"

"While," I replied. "Though we kept hooking up after. That's when I decided maybe I wasn't so bisexual after all."

Scott seemed nervous with that comment but didn't object. Instead, he shook his head. "I would have guessed you would have gone for another college dude."

I shook my head. "Not my thing." Here goes. "I'm only into older guys, actually."

"Really?" Scott was moving from incredulous to amused. "What are we talking about?"

I shrugged. It was kind of a relief to have this open dialogue with the man. "95% of the time, men in their 40s or 50s."

"I knew a buddy in college who was into cougars," he laughed. "The guys gave him a lot of guff, but Taylor got laid so fucking much..." Scott was laughing as he recalled old times then seemed like he had something on his mind.

"What?" I asked.

He paused and looked at me. "Nothing, buddy." He held up his now empty pint glass. "Can I get the next round?"

"No doing, Scott," I said, standing up. "I'm buying."

[SCOTT]

Bringing Austin along to the game was the right call, I realized. I'd never seen a guy so thrilled. He'd been to a couple of games before, but it was a rare treat for him. I was happy to have given him that.

I didn't have any ulterior plans. Then again, maybe I did and just didn't admit them to myself. I told myself I was just having a good time, too. Hanging out with Austin felt freeing, like my college days. Before my career and family, and before the country club set I socialized with. I liked my golf buddies just fine, but there was always that one-up-manship. I could play that game, too, but with Austin, I didn't have to.

We got a little tipsy but didn't go wild. I told Austin he should just enjoy the downtown nightlife on his own. He clapped a hand on my shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze. "No offense to you heteros, Scott, but drunken hos aren't my idea of fun," he laughed.

I loved that he was freer with me. Not guarded, able to talk about being a gay man. I think stupidly I assumed gay guys didn't have the same problem with sex, of finding regular and compatible partners. But I could tell with Austin, he had some dissatisfactions of his own. I almost asked him about it in the bar, but figured I'd mind my own business. I hoped he'd feel free to share with me some time.

It had been in the back of my mind. What sex with a guy would be like. Yeah. I'd fooled around some in college, but that was just that, fooling around. Naughty fun I'd have with some buds when we didn't have girlfriends or weren't getting enough. After I met Kelly, I'd fantasize about other women, sometimes a lot. I figured most guys do. But I never gave much thought to men.

But as Austin and I got ready for bed in the hotel room, I was thinking of it. His eyes were on me. Quiet lust in his eyes that made me feel sexually attractive in a way I hadn't felt in years. This wasn't some cougar in some downtown hotel bar giving me the heavy eye, this was a young hot stud with an Instagram fitness body. Just a dusting of hair but also lots of pale, smooth muscle.

And, as he strutted out of the bathroom in his boxer briefs, I could see the definition in his round ass and the thick bulge of his crotch. It wasn't fair a young man this perfect should be hung, but I had a good idea he was. I tried not to let him catch me looking at his package, but he gave a soft smirk as I darted my glance away. He ran his thumbs along the waist band to adjust the underwear, but his eyes had a question in them. Maybe a plea.

"Good night, bud," I said. Forcing myself to slip into the covers of one of the two beds, as if my heart weren't racing a million miles an hour.

"Good night, Scott," came his reply. Almost soft, not cocky. I'd been nervous until that point, but that voice gave me a boner beneath the sheets. And the very fact I was responding to his gentle masculinity added to the thrill. A feeling I hadn't felt before but maybe wanted to for a while.

He turned out the light.

[AUSTIN]

I was so hard, I couldn't sleep. Scott Delahunt had starred in my JO fantasies a lot lately, and I knew after this weekend he was gonna be in them a lot more. I tossed and turned and tried to think of other stuff. I tried to think of the Titans season but then I'd remember one of the coaches I wanted to bone.

I hoped the beer would catch up and help me sleep. It didn't. I don't know how long I lay awake. Maybe an hour. I decided to go to the bathroom, where I could jerk off in privacy. It wouldn't take long to get my nut and take the edge off.

"Can't sleep either?" I heard Scott say as I scooted to get off the bed. His voice wasn't quiet but wide awake.

"No," I gulped.

"Anything I can do to help?" came his voice in the dark.

My heart pounded. "God, Scott." I was SO close to just saying, "come over and suck me off Daddy." Instead, Scott could tell the frustration in my voice.

"I'm serious, Austin. If you wanna ask me, I won't judge." he said. Then, "I actually kind of want you to ask me."

My heart melted. Here was my dream man, vulnerable as hell. Maybe I'd made him feel that way. Maybe it was just fate.

"Would you join me in my bed?" I asked. Into the darkness of the room. I thought of turning on the lamp but didn't want to break the spell that was set between us.

Scott didn't answer, and I first I though I'd fucked it up big time. Misread what he was suggesting. But then I heard his mattress squeak and then felt his warm body bump against mine beneath the sheets. I scooted over to give him room.

The man was shaking some, but his hands were not wasting time eagerly touching my body. I knew from his touch he'd been thinking about this, wondering what my muscle would feel like. I let him feel and reached down to take off my briefs in case he wanted to feel more.

"Fuck!" he hissed.

"We can take this slow, Scott," I assured him as my own hands were pawing at his older muscle. I'd never get sick of the feel and rougher skin of a middle aged man. And the idea of what he represented to me. Power, authority, experience. I kept my urges in check and slowly caressed his warm back.

The man pulled his hands back some and like that he was peeling his own underwear off. Baring himself for me.

I don't know what I felt first, his hard dick against mine or his lips pressing into a kiss. It wasn't until that kiss that I realized how much I'd pent up. And how much Scott had pent up himself. He was married, maybe nominally straight or whatever. But this man wanted me.

In my past times with older guys, I insisted on getting serviced. It was part of my thing, I guess, my power trip. But I'd heard enough of Scott's marital woes, that I knew I had to give him a real blow job. I kissed my way down his hairy chest and still padded middle and started licking his cock.

His dick was on the smaller side, between 4.5 and 5 inches and was the hardest dick I'd ever encountered. I was grateful for his size as I opened my mouth and took that cock in.

"Yes," he hissed excitedly.

I rarely suck cock and if I do, it's as a teaser for foreplay. So I'm not an expert, but I must have been better than Mrs. Delahunt.

"Suck me buddy!" Scott gasped. His fingers were in my hair, on my scalp. Not possessively, but more appreciative. Like he'd forgotten what pleasure like this was like. I was reminding him with steady and faster mouth strokes.

I backed off a few seconds before he came. I needed this daddy's mouth on my cock before orgasm removed his willingness to suck me. I climbed up and met Scott in another kiss before I pulled back and scooted up to line up my arching, hard prick to his face.

"Take your time," I urged. Not "please suck me" or "would you blow me too?"

I didn't need the pleasantries. I felt his warm wet tongue lick at my head. Tentative as hell, but it was the kind of tentative fear of not doing it right than not wanting to do it.

"Feels great," I assured him. Now running my fingers through his hair. Appreciative, but definitely possessive. I pushed into his mouth. About three inches. Enough to fill him but not trip any gag reflex. "Just take me, man. Nice shallow strokes... there." I was doing most of the work. Maybe I'd train Scott how to be my cocksucker. The very idea got my balls boiling with my load.

Even if he wasn't doing the work he was doing his best. Sucking at me, trying to keep his saliva contained while forming a ring around my softly pistoning cock. I was thick as well as long, and I knew I was a lot. But the man was acting like a champ.

"I'm gonna cum in your mouth, Scott," I warned him. Giving him an out. He had three seconds to do something about the situation. He didn't, so like that I was firing off big. A heavy load right into his mouth. I pulled back so he'd get it mostly on his tongue. I thought he'd feel more comfortable swallowing it that way, but mostly I wanted him to taste me. To know what my cum was like.

I pulled out and felt my prick twitch in the aftershocks.

The man deserved any release I could give him. I scooted back down to suck him to completion but as I approached his crotch, I smelt that familiar bleachy-floral scent. And felt his hands grip my head to stop me.

"I... just came," he admitted.

#drakestories

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