#otherwise i'm really loving this calendar

[madegeeky]

BLOOD IT WILL TAKE BLOOD day 10: more lip products! In this case a lip scrub and a lip sleeping mask.

I have used both of these before (though a different scent) and really like both of them. The scrub has a good texture in it but not too rough when giving it a bit of pressure. The lip mask is amazing. It's wonderfully greasy and it feels so refreshing on your lips. I'm actually almost out so I'm glad to get these.

The smell is the same as yesterday's oil/gloss and lip conditioner but more diluted: a spiced sort of sent like mulled wine or hot spiced cider. Although, if the lip mask anything like the other one I have, it's a little waxy on top and so you don't really experience the full force of the smell until you break that up.

I may be keeping the lip mask. I'm almost out of my current one and so really need another one. However, it's not exactly the sort of scent I'd want on my lips before I go to bed (it's super strong) so I'm putting it to the side for now to see if a smell I like better comes along. If I end up with a different one, I'll be passing this one on to my Mom or sister, I think.

[skullvgirl]

acting like they forgot yall had plans together

incl ;; isagi, bachira, barou, kunigami, shidou

warnings ;; fem reader

an's ;; was gonna make this a samu version but I got lazy uh, here hc's

isagi

you text him on friday, a day before your supposed plans and let me tell you he's freaking OUT. he doesn't want to tell you he forgot, and now your asking him what to wear and man could it get any worse?

apparently it could because now your asking him who he should bring and telling him how excited you are and much you've been lookikg forward to it.

he feel like the worst boyfriend on earth and is wondering if he should ask one of the friends that your bringing ( apparently ) and so he devises a plan.

"YN, you said you were bringing [ Friends Name ] Right?" And you can't help but continue the joke and accusingly say, "What?! No, was that supposed to be some sort of joke?"

Now, he feels like shit for even suggesting and is also concerned about what [ Friends Name ] did. He couldn't have forgot that too could he?

"Y-yeah, no I just...yeah."

You burst out laughing and he realizes this is probably another one of your "ticktack trends"

You hold his face softly, "Oh poor baby, it was just a joke we dont have any plans."

His face is hot and he moves your hands away to go pout on the couch. "Stop doing that..you were scaring me..."

"Aw was I? Don't worry, It was fun watching you question your sanity."

"And that's supposed to make me feel better..."

bachira

"We had plans!?" Immediately, without a second thought. And you can't contain your laughter, his hands wete placed comically on the sides of his head, his mouth wide open from shock and confusion.

"Dude, no."

"Oh thank God." He places a hand over his heart.

"Really? You werent even gonna try and play along? What if it was for real and I got mad"

He paused for a moment, thinking over the idea seriously.

"I guess you could put me in NTT for a bit maybe.." he side eyed you breasts and now you were even more confused.

"NTT?"

"No titty timeout"

You burst out laughing and Bachira couldn't help but grin at your reaction. He loved making you laugh.

"Sure, I guess I could. Probably make sure you'd remember next time huh?"

"100% !"

barou

"no we don't. now sit down, I wanna feel my girlfriend."

You roll your eyes and didn't bother fighting his party pooping attitude. You sat down and cuddled up next to his warm body.

"How do you know, you could have forgot..."

"It's not marked on my calendar, and even if it wasn't I'd never forget"

You glanced at the calendar, everything Barou needed to do in the future was meticulously marked on that damned stupid calender.

Should've wrote a fake date there...

"Who do you take me for seriously? Even if you wrote a fake date I would've known."

Oop! Did you say that out loud? No, it was just Barou and his stupidly good sense of you. Weirdo.

"Ugh, you suck, lets just watch" You were frowning but snuggles closer too him.

"Says the one latched to my chest..."

"Shhhh, the show..."

kunigami

He knows you guys don't actually have plans but he plays along anyways. "Uh huh, and did you still wanna go at 6?"

Somehow gaslights you into thinking that you forgot yall had plans. But you should've known otherwise from the way he was smiling. A cheshire grin spread across his face agreeing with everything you say in full confidence, untill finally you break.

"Im lying! We don't have plans, also a Mega Hotel? What are you talking about?"

He's laughing in your face and your cheeks light up.

"Hey! Get your own joke meanie!"

shidou

"deadass?"

you continue playing the act. "yes? you didn't forget did you?"

"say you swear." he's done a full 180° too see you now, staring incredulously into your eyes, waiting for a response.

"I swear—why would I be lying?"

"No way.." he holds his hands on his head. "No fucking way..." he was breathless, like it was impossible for him to believe what you were saying was true.

"YN, I'm gonna be so serious. I think i must be high, cause I cannot remember a single discussion of planning anything right now."

"Really dude?" You asked, unimpressed. He cocked his head adorably. "It was a joke.

"Oh shit, thank God. I thought I was a goner." he turns back around, relief filling his voice.

"Seriously? What if it wasn't a joke?"

"You'd forgive me"

You gaped at his answer, "And what makes you sure of that?" you asked sassily.

"You love me." he said confidently.

"I do, what's your point?"

"You love me, that is the point." He said, nodding his head sure of himself.

"Right..."

an's ;; guys, i think tumblr is deleting my rq's wtf 🤒

[woneuntonzz]

ᯓ★ 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐲 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡-𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞

💿 ; uh-oh... did he really forget your special day?

ot7 idol!riize x afab!reader ( 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡𝐝𝐚𝐲 .ᐟ )

📨 requested by anon !! ≈

contains: fluff, cussing, vv light-hearted (i think), some are funny —i tried

- - - - - - - - - - - more under the cut .ᐟ - - - - - - - - - - -

shotaro - “the cold never bothered me anyway~”

When he got home from dance practice, he was exhausted like he'd always be after a long day of work, dragging himself along the considerable space of your apartment, and letting his body fall into the sheets. “Get up, your sweat is getting all over my sheets! I just changed that!” Your passive aggressiveness wasn't so passive anymore, and he'd bring himself to stand up. He just stood there, eyeing your figure pacing around the room. You finally looked into his lost eyes, “I'll change them for you.” he says.  You thought he had texted you earlier that day that he'll see you that night because he had a surprise, but his behavior could say otherwise. “Jerk.” “Wait, what did I do?” he tried to reach for your wrist, your soft hand. “Lovely?” Thankfully, the calendar was hung by the door, and when you slammed it with all the force you had, the calendar would fall. He picked it up and hung it back, then he saw the date. Shit. It even had a doodle of a little birthday cake on it. Your body was slumped on the couch, and suddenly you'd feel a pair of arms snaking down your body, both of which you pushed away but he persisted. “I'm sorry lovely, please let me make it up to you.” he had his face buried in your neck from behind, he left a little kiss, and an electrifying feeling.  The night would end up with the two of you in bed, getting all comfy and cuddled up, and for good measure, you made sure he wore the thing —the thing he seemed to despise so much and swore you'd never catch him wearing, ever— whilst you had a studio ghibli movie marathon, and of course before that you had to have a little photoshoot. “Pose for the camera Queen Elsa!” “This dress is a little itchy, did you even wash it?” “Did you even remember my birthday?” “Okay, sorry. You win." Still, he gives you the sweetest smile he could pull out, and at the end of the day you'd be all cuddled up in bed, the zipper of the dress he wore opened all the way so he could comfortably lie himself, your arms around his neck and his around your waist. He'd let you bury yourself into his warm embrace, placing a tender kiss on your forehead that lingered for long until he softly uttered, “I'm really sorry lovely, I shouldn't have forgotten, happy birthday.” “It's okay, I know you have a lot on your mind, you have a come back to prepare for after all.” Even with your serene voice, he'd still feel guilty for having forgotten your special day, and it would be the sweet sounds of your lips moving against each other in the same rhythm that'll relieve you both of the negativity.

eunseok - “open the door.”

He was feeling uneasy all day, but he had to hide it since he was in a fan meet —well, meeting fans. Behind all his smiles and heart poses, there was an itch in his brain he couldn't quite pick up on. Oh, right, my girlfriend's gonna be here —he'd skillfully and discreetly search for you within the crowds of fans. He knew he would have spotted you easily for being so fond of you, but you weren't there. Odd, he figured he should just wait for you to pop up next to one of his fansites. But the day has already ended and he still hasn't seen you.  Finally he got to check his phone. He'd finally caught up to the ant that crawled around in his mind. He tried messaging you a little, hi birthday girl —and with a cheeky expression on his face, he'd add, you're hotter than the flames on your birthday candles —you left him on read.  It was easy for him to explain that he had work, and you knew, because you said you were going to be in that fan meet. But unlike the last time where he greeted you happy birthday first thing in the morning, you pretty much concluded that he forgot. He did have plenty of time to greet you before the fan meet, so why didn't he? When they got back to the dorms, he made sure to call you as soon as he had locked himself up in his room. “I'm really sorry princess, I wish I could've seen you today, why didn't you come?” “I did… oh my God you don't love me anymore.” “NO, there's no way… I'm really sorry, step on me, use me, abuse me—” “I forgive you, stop.” Your laughter, filled his ears, and it was all he needed to hear. “And how bold of you to assume I had a birthday cake.” He'd laugh for a bit, then suddenly he'd reply with a stern voice. “Open the door.” “Are you outside?” He kept himself eerily quiet on the other side of the line. “Eunseok?” “No. But I got a cake delivered for you.” —it was a cake of your favorite character, and a little note was stuck to it, see? you're definitely hotter than your birthday candles (there's actually no candles lol the shop ran out :D).

sungchan - “good morning, baby.”

You were already used to your boyfriend's frequent absence, he is an idol after all, and despite that fact, your love for each other is inevitable. He was out of the country for a music video shooting, he had told you the full details, given you updates, and even promised to call you so in some way you could be with him whilst he explored around the tourist spots with his other group members.  It's 11:50 pm where you're at, where he was, he's probably working. You sighed, you had about ten minutes left before your birthday ended.  You sat on your bed, body pressed against your thighs, resting your head on your knees whilst you hugged them. You were all alone with your tiny projector, rewatching the episodes of the netflix series you had started with him, and promised to finish with him. You could almost feel his arms around you as you reminisced of the times when you two would just huddle against each other, him whispering sweet little nothings as you watched your shared favorite series. You'd never move onto the next episode without him, so before that new episode could start, you turned it off. You went back to your spot, still sitting up, blankly staring at the white space of your wall. His presence, his touch, his voice, it would all remain a wish as your eyes slowly shut themselves, filling your vision with darkness and guiding you to dreamland.  “...miss you… I love you so much… sorry…” —the sound of his voice, it was very close to your ears, but it sounded faint. You longed so much for him that you slept through it, thinking it was your dreams, because if it was you wouldn't want to wake up for a while.  Waking up, you'd feel trapped, trapped in… “Good morning, baby.” his arms.  You stared into his eyes, they were tired, but still they displayed affection, only for you.  You gently moved his arm, and as his hold on you loosened, you sat up to check the time, 12:00 pm. “Bambi? what are you doing here?” “We finished filming earlier yesterday.” he'd sit up too, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, very gently, he'd lay your head against his beating heart. “I kind of —forgot about your birthday.” he'd start caressing your hair. “I meant to call you before we got to the airport, but then I checked the time, you were already asleep.” You shifted yourself, laying your side against him. He'd trap you in his arms once again, holding you so close and tightly like he'd never want to let go of you.  You look up at him, unable to hold himself back, his lips would fall into yours, the warm sensations taking over as you drowned yourselves in each other's fervor. 

wonbin - “i forgot to feed my cat.”

“You give me the rest of your ice cream if he forgot.” “Bet.”  It was a music show day for RIIZE, work, as usual. Anton and Sohee bickering wasn't anything new, but them betting over something? Wonbin knew he'd fallen victim. “What are you two betting on?” The youngest two just stared at him, Anton bit his lip, holding back a smile. “Say Binnie, what day is it today?” “Tuesday?” —Sohee's mouth formed a little 'o' whilst Anton rolled his eyes, shoulders drooping down dramatically. “What? it's Tuesday.” “Wow, she should really stop with the princess treatment.” Wonbin only laughs at Anton's retort. “Happy Birthday Y/n.” Wonbin panicked at the mention of your name around staff, mainly his worry was at that, then, he realized. “Birthday?” “Aww, Binnie forgot.” Wonbin's mouth went agape, dismissing Sohee's teasing.  Wonbin shook his head, grabbing his phone that rested beside him on the waiting room sofa, he messages you, meet at the vending machine? :> You'd meet him by the vending machine, you had to bring along one of your own group members so as to not raise suspicion, while also pretending to be there for nothing more than a refresher.  “Happy birthday.” he quietly utters, as he reaches down to grab the soda from the dispensing slot. He'd give you the soda, and it had a little note on it.

i love you, i hope you never forget, like how i forgot your birthday :3 You saw him suppressing his laughter, he was lucky he's adorable, and you could never get mad at him since you were in the same line of work, it was easy for you to understand. But of course, being the best girlfriend you are, you'd give your fans a little tmi in your birthday live. “How's my pet cat? Well, Binnie forgot about my birthday, kinda hurts, but pets are pets. You don't feed them, they forget.” —he was watching when you said that, let's just say Sohee and Anton didn't keep very quiet.

seunghan - “i ate shinchan twice, wink, wink.”

The bright wave of sunlight was enough for you to tell that this day was going to be the best day of your life, and it would be for as long as your friends were around. They'd throw you a surprise birthday party and you'd spend the next twelve hours playing cards against humanity and being unhinged young adults trying your damndest not to get a noise complaint from your apartment neighbors. Despite the effects of your friends' urging to continue the night with some drinking, you'd refuse because you were expecting company later that night, him.  You hadn't changed from your birthday fit, it was in your favorite colors too. You kept it on, wanting to show it off to your boyfriend.  You expected a smiley Seunghan, running up to the couch to pick you up and spin you around, peppering kisses all over your face, but when he walked through the door, his head hung low. When he looked up and met your eyes, he could only let out a frail smile. You could see his exhaustion through his eyes.  He sat down on the couch, next to you, and laid his head atop of the couch's backrest, and his eyes fell on you, then on your lips. You knew what he needed, and so you planted a soft kiss on his lips, that would later turn into a heated one. You'd straddle his hips, “What were you up to today babe? you're looking a little too beautiful right now.” he uttered against your lips.  Your giggle would cause a ruckus in his heart. It was so delightful, yet he didn't foresee it. “What are you laughing at?” “My friends got me a shinchan cake, they told me to keep it all for myself, but I want to share it with you.” his slightly furrowed eyebrows would soon soften.  “Oh fuck, sorry, happy birthday babe.” he gives you another quick kiss. “I forgot I was supposed to buy you something.” “Well, what is it babe?” “Can't say, it's a surprise.” “What if…” you leaned in closer to his ear. “... you save that gift for my next birthday and give me something else tonight?” Seunghan was late to practice the next day. 

sohee - “birthday, yes. happy, never.”

Sohee woke up in a haze, not to be that kind of person, but he definitely woke up on the wrong side of the bed. He still had his special mc duties though, so he was up and went on about his day. Well of course, every morning would never be complete without messaging his girlfriend, good morning bub :D But before you could reply, another message would follow shortly,

gonna be vv busy with m countdown todei, but i'll talk to u again as soon as i get off!! —you smiled. This alone was already the sweetest birthday present of all.  The thing is, it wasn't meant to be anything more than just the usual for Sohee. He'd proceed with his job, beaming at everyone and the cameras, elated, but only because he was looking forward to hearing your voice again towards the end of the day.  “I filmed a TikTok with Taeyong, I'm so happy.” —finally, he was able to talk to you again.  “I can tell.” you chuckled, looking at his smile through your phone screen.  You were happy too, but he seemed to have forgotten something.  “I filmed a TikTok too, do you want to see it?” “Yes! Is that even a question?” you shook your head, chuckling once more.  You showed him the video using your laptop. You held your phone close enough, flipping Sohee's view to the back cam, and he'd watch your TikTok wide-eyed. When the video was done, you flipped it back to the front cam, showing him your brazen smile. “Happy birthday bub, you're so hot.” You laughed. “You didn't forget, right?” “No, no!” You kept laughing, he definitely didn't forget, he's definitely not sweating buckets because you've caught him. “Okay, maybe I did —but you said in the video 'happy, never', you're happy, right? I can take a quick run to you right now.”  “I'm happy, I had fun with my friends today.” “That's so emo of you though, suddenly you beat me at my lip sync game, lip syncing to some emo ass audio, you can't even sing the lyrics to our songs.” “Excuse me?”  “Just kidding hehe, I love you and you're so hot.” He took that quick run to your place, and you'd add another video into your TikTok drafts. 

anton - “i'll ra-pa-pa-punch your face.”

He'd be woken up by Sungchan saying, “'Ton, we have a recording today, get up.” He'd groan softly, somehow still so worn out even after passing out for nearly eleven hours.  He sat up, still groggy. He checked for his phone, and the time, Already 9:00 am? —he'd go on about his morning routine, like usual. He got on the van with the other members, yawning like it was his last when he got it. He'd only be able to displace his drowsiness once he got out of the vehicle, scrolling on his phone. The date, recording day, and —suddenly he was wide awake. The boys were gathered around the control booth, listening to the demo of their next title track. “Oh, and Y/n will be the co-producer for this album.” The members spared Anton a glance, as if checking up on him.  When you got in the studio, you would be warmly welcomed by the boys, all but him. He acted like it was the very first time he'd meet you. To be fair, your relationship was a secret to everyone else, and you couldn't really be open about it at work, but he acted odd. He was a wee bit distant, and a lot more reserved. It wasn't your first time working with RIIZE either, so it was odd to say the least. At some point Wonbin would ask you, “Are you gonna beat up Anton?” because your smile would diminish when it was Anton's turn to record.  When it was time to say goodbye, the boys would greet you happy birthday in chorus, Anton would bow with them, but he didn't speak, even more of a reason for you to avoid his eyes until he left. You didn't want to think much of it, and so you continued to work, staying out late in the studio with the other producers, and you'd keep working till they left —though, they wouldn't leave without wishing you happy birthday and urging you to rest and celebrate at home, but you insisted.  You'd drift asleep, head propped on your fist. You were thinking, thinking of what could've gotten into Anton, why was he acting that way? “Happy Birthday love.” you almost jumped off of your seat, awakened by Anton's voice in the recording booth. “Was the door not locked? how did you get in there?”  “The door was quite unlocked, I'd say.” he uttered to the microphone. “And I kind of forgot your birthday —and the present I bought.” his eyes pointed towards the gift bag that rested on the floor next to you.  “Thank you Tony, but, you could've just told me. It's okay. I was worried about why you were ignoring me…” He rushed to answer when he saw your fleeting smile. “I just felt bad. I'm really sorry, it's stupid. I didn't want to approach you empty handed so I went back to the dorms to grab your present.” Your sudden laughter caught him off-guard. “I know, I know, it's embarrassing.” “No, no. I just can't believe you're still in there.” he was still in the recording booth, talking to you through the microphone input.  “Well, I also wanted to re-record my parts. I couldn't focus earlier because you were boring holes into my soul.” “Well, I'm sorry if YOU forgot my birthday.” “Chill, I was only joking, love.”

well this kinda sucked self-indulgence at its finest (pls don't bully me for almost making anton's into a whole ass fic hehe) ; 💿

[itsvelyria]

"as sad taylor swift songs"

vvv vague references to depression for danny

(not really a representation of the songs as a whole but rather how i interpret each phrase i cherry picked)

Charles Leclerc

and say the one thing, i've been wanting, but no~ 🩵

your phone lights up the dark of your room, you should be asleep at this time of the night. there hadn't been any new messages since Tuesday but here you sat, scrolling aimlessly on social media, waiting by the chat like you were 13 again with your first crush. the squeal of glee and the uncontrollable smile on your face when they would text back — that's how he made you feel. and though the little voice in your head is telling you that everything was wrong, there was no way you would debase your feelings to refute the way your brain was wired to think of him at all times. but as you were flicking through gossip sites, the back of a head that haunted your dreams and nightmares was staring right back at, pressed up against a shorter brunette one — maybe it was time to listen to your brain and not your heart.

Carlos Sainz

tryna find a part of me that you didn't touch~ 🩷

every inch of your skin was on fire, like it was rejecting the touch of the man above you. if you squinted enough, blocked out the light from the living room behind his broad shoulders, you could have mistaken him for a certain Spaniard. except the Spaniard wouldn't have chosen to lay his focus on your neck like this guy you picked up at the club. you couldn't, for the life of your alcohol-riddled brain, recall his name. but you could remember the ghost of a touch down between the valleys of your breasts and that was enough to pry a spine-shivering moan out your throat. maybe if you pretended enough and swallowed the hot tears back, you could pretend he was the person you wanted instead.

Danny Ricciardo

she would have made such a lovely bride, what a shame she's fucked in the head~ 🧡

he knew it when your frame had started curled in on itself under the covers. how you brushed past the stereo you loved to fiddle with on Saturday mornings. how you told him that you'd rather stay home on days you had plans. he felt this clawing in his insides whenever you barely spared him a glance, like he was the extra on a film set who was just waiting around for something to happen. so he did what he did best. he'd called up your mom to ask for her recipes to cook for nights you were too tired to move and offered to dry your hair whenever you wandered around wet hair. when you were fast asleep, cuddled up in his arms, he hoped you could hear when he told you how much he loved you and how he'd always be here.

George Russell

will you still want me, when i'm nothing new~ ❤️

even with your eyes closed on the red-eye flight, you could picture your colour-coded and meticulously organised calendar in your head. that and the thousands of messages from your mother, disappointment reeking from them at your missing of your nephew's baby shower. he was 1, he'd get over it. amongst the messages was two calls to your boyfriend, both left unanswered. the silence feeling like a prelude to something inevitable. images of him laughing with a colleague, your calls ignored, flashed in your mind. the little seed of self-doubt had planted itself a long time ago and bloomed into a voice in your head, relentlessly questioning your every move, every word. you hated it, but when the fire you started grows uncontrollably and you can't stop it, what could you do but let it consume you whole?

Lando Norris

no one could touch the way we laughed in the dark~ 💛

it was like a bad smell you couldn't ignore, the second you stepped onto the hiking path. you refused to come but was convinced otherwise by your group of friends. and with each crunch of the wet leaves under your boot or the distant sound of rushing water, you saw faint wisps of smoke in the shape of someone drawn from your ancient memories, holding your hand and leading you up the slope. hallucinations of a familiar laugh clouded your mind with the hike passing like a daze. the waterfall was still as beautiful as you remembered with the tree where he had secretly carved both your initials just a few steps away. your boyfriend pulled you closer, breaking your trance. his grin radiating at you, you felt the old memories slip away back into the shadows, cupping the chin of your new love.

Lewis Hamilton

you gave me all your love and all i gave you was goodbye~ 💜

sometimes when he glanced at old pictures, the indifference in his chest made him feel like he had moved on. and it should. with every second that slipped out of his grasp, the pain in his heart had dulled and he was busy enough without having to schedule mourning into his calendar. but the glare of his phone burned the picture into his retinas while he was waiting for his next race to begin, he missed the pang in his chest when you first ended the relationship. it was almost like he was losing every shred of you and the ugly feeling in his head raged on. and the next moment, he would turn the phone off, throwing it across his room to bury his head in his palms, the anger redirecting on the pathetic little boy inside him. he should have moved on by now, he knows he should have, but as he glanced at all the faces in the stands, part of him wishes one of them was you.

Max Verstappen

then you won't have to cry, or hide in the closet~ 🩶

you can see it in the darkening of his eyes when he answered his calls. or how his lips pulled taunt after a bad race. he had mentioned some things in passing: details of his childhood glossed over like it was nothing more than a dusty spine of a long-forgotten book. coupled with stories from his family, you had pieced together enough of the puzzle he kept his past. and that tugging in your heart wasn't pity; you could never pity him. but you weren't sure what it was either. and so you kept it quiet, tucking it away in a box, focused on the one thing that did matter — his present. maybe one day, you'll take the box out and rifle through its contents with your lover, but for now, just seeing him hold that trophy was more than enough.

[potato-lord-but-not]

hi, i'm sorry if this is a strange question but will you be selling or otherwise re-releasing the sticker designs you made last year for the glorious 25th of may? i really loved them and recently had to replace my laptop, losing access to my stickers because of it :(

no re-releases unfortunately, buttttt there WILL be stickers again this year, I’d mark your calendars (I’ll be posting 12 pm cst) cus I’m gonna be doing a limited amount this time 🫡

[ghoulangerlee]

the cumulus is in a rut and cirrus is in heat fic :)

contains: cunnilingus, fingering, ladies in love, the concepts of heats and ruts without it being overly there, a very brief mention of cirrus's breeding kink but it's only a mention, and wings :)

WOMEN!

==

Cumulus feels...heat, uncomfortable, a pressure building in her lower stomach—all encompassing.

Dutifully, she checks her calendar, the small hard cover planner she keeps with her, flipping through well worn pages until she finds the right date and well.

Well. She's at the beginning of it, her rut. Five days. The first two make her skin feel uncomfortably tight, like she's being stretched thin over her own bones. The third one is when she starts to really feel it. When she needs a partner to help her satiate the hunger.

The fourth and fifth day, well, she doesn't want to think about those right now, already feeling on a sort of hair trigger since she'd rolled out of bed this morning.

She goes on about her day, mostly, feeling a bit listless as she does—she catches a sympathetic look from Dew, allowing him close enough once to scent her, a low purr rumbling in his chest.

"It'll be okay, Cu," Dew murmurs, and he's never been terrible at comfort despite what he thinks, his arms settling loosely around her shoulders in a hug.

Cumulus allows herself to lean into it—they're not incompatible, but her body yearns for something that Dew can't give her right now. She's grateful though, for the comfort, his steady scent not spiking in any way, arousal or otherwise.

(She's only mildly afraid of what she could be capable of if she were to catch the scent of arousal so soon.)

"I was going to go down to the lake, it's a nice day out. Do you wanna come?" Dew murmurs into her hair.

Cumulus wants to shake her head, pull from his embrace and go lock herself in her room for a bit while the fire in her belly licks tantalizingly at her very being.

"It'll be good for you," Dew needles her gently, he's not pushing but he's not backing down in her silence. "You know how stinky the church gets when everyone starts waking up for the day. Do you really want to subject yourself to that?"

She doesn't, is the issue, and Dew knows this.

"Yeah, okay, at least let me pack a bag first so I have a few things." She finally settles on, briefly mourning the closeness of Dew when he finally pulls back.

"Sure thing," he says, smiling at her. "I'm going to go pack a lunch. I'm feeling like a nice relaxing day at the lake is in order. Probably won't be able to drag myself out of the water for lunch, later."

Cumulus nods and allows herself to calm down at the prospect of being only surrounded by nature and the one ghoul who's nearly perfect at keeping his scent in check.

They split ways, only long enough for Cumulus to pack a few things; a book and a towel, she throws a swimsuit in as a last minute thing, just in case she gets needled into swimming with Dew—she also changes into something lighter, a flowy t-shirt and a pair of shorts, the material soft and comfortable against her skin.

When she exits her room a little bit later, Dew's waiting at the end of the hall, a brown basket sitting at his feet and a blanket folded over his arm; he's also dressed down, casual in swim trunks and a tank top—he's glamoured, much like she is, so his skin is pale and lightly freckled from his time in the sun.

"There you are," Dew says with a smile, soft and friendly as he scoops the basket up again, "Ready?"

She smiles in return and goes over to him, nudging her shoulder against his, "Ready."

Together, they head down to the lake, only running into a couple of siblings who offer waves to them before carrying on—Cumulus is glad for this, unsure if she could stand the small talk today, already so on edge from the heat running through her veins.

The lake is peaceful and quiet, there's a slight breeze though the sun shines high in the sky, warming the entire area—quietly, they set everything up, Dew spreading the blanket out on the pier, placing the basket on one of the corners and motions for Cumulus to make herself comfortable.

She does, her rut still burning below her skin, in her veins, a steady reminder that it's there and setting in, but she's able to lie back on the blanket, eyes fluttering closed as the sun bears down on her.

She doesn't see Dew, but she can smell when he removes his shirt, dropping it into a pile near her; not close enough for his scent to bother her, but close enough that it offers some sort of comfort to her—and then, there's a splash, a whoop of laughter as Dew comes up to the surface of the water.

She can smell his happiness, the warm and rich scent making her purr softly, she's not providing for him, she doesn't provide for another who goes into rut, but being part of his happiness, of his own way to relax on a day off makes her happy too.

Cumulus dozes on the pier, warm and happy in the sun as the sounds of Dew splashing around the lake fade into nothingness.

It's the first reprieve that she's had since waking this morning to the burning beneath her skin.

At some point, she wakes up—slowly, like all of her limbs are underwater. She stays horizontal and rolls over onto her side, Dew's sitting a distance away from her, bare chested and watching the clouds float through the sky. There's an unwrapped sandwich next to him and a bottle of water.

Her stomach growls and Dew glances over at her, a serene smile on his face, "Hey sleepy head," he says, and then he tilts his head towards the basket, "Food's in there. Should still be good. Cirrus packed you something special when I told her you were coming down here with me."

Something clenches in her belly at that, a low rumble of a purr in her chest as she slowly sits up, stretching her limbs out.

In the basket, there's something wrapped in a checkered napkin, and Cumulus can smell the remains of Cirrus's scent on it when she pulls it close—she doesn't think too hard about the date written in green sparkly pen in her calendar, the one that matches up with her own in matte blue ink.

It's just a sandwich, but it's a somewhat indulgent one with pepper spiced turkey, lettuce, tomato and green apple slices, a light spread of mayonnaise on one side of the bread and the barest hint of cream cheese on the other.

It's her favorite.

She tears into it with a ravenous hunger, the bread, meat, vegetable and fruit melting away under her teeth—it's easily the best thing she's ever eaten, fisting the napkin in one of her hands as if hoping the rest of Cirrus's scent would rub away into her skin.

"So, tomorrow, you think you'll be okay? I mean, I could make more time for you, obviously. Maybe go bird watching or whatever it is you air ghouls like to do," Dew says, humor in his tone as he teases her. "But, I do have a hot date with a water ghoul later, so if I'm needed it'll have to be early morning."

"Swiss likes bird watching and he's mostly an outlier," Cumulus says around a mouthful of food. "But no, I think this time may be different." She squeezes the napkin tighter in her hand, "I believe I'm being courted."

Dew gives her a funny look, "Aren't you and Cirrus already mated?" He asks, narrowing his eyes. "You do that whole mated pair thing already."

Cumulus snorts softly, "Come on, Dew. Don't tell me you've never tried to spice things up with someone you've been together with for a long time." She says, and then she smiles, soft and gentle, "It's a thing we do. Every couple hundred years. Sometimes I court her when she's about to go into heat. Sometimes she courts me when I'm going into a rut. Depends on what we're feeling."

"That's disgustingly domestic of you two. Though I think you ladies may be the outlier here." Dew says with a shrug. "Personally, my longest courting has been since I've been summoned. So, for only a few years. I don't think it's been long enough to do it again." He gets a sort of thoughtful look on his face, "Might take Aether by surprise if I started trying to court him again."

Cumulus finishes her sandwich and folds the napkin up carefully, tucking it into the collar of her shirt, "I forget that compared to us, some of you are babies," she says with a little laugh.

"Uh huh," Dew says with a roll of his eyes, before he fishes out another bottle of water from the basket and tosses it in her direction.

Cumulus bares her teeth at him as she catches it, "I'm just saying, it's nice sometimes, to fall back into old habits with someone you care about."

Dew has a thoughtful look on his face, he's not looking at Cumulus anymore, but towards the sky, "Huh," he says slowly. "You and Cirrus have been together for...a while, yeah?"

"Millennia." Cumulus says, as if she's talking about some small and insignificant number of years. "Swiss too, but he was. Well, he was later. A couple hundred years later." She smiles, a soft and private thing, "Cirrus and I have seen the rise and fall of many civilizations, both here and in the pits."

"Huh." Dew says again, "Maybe you are onto something, birdy."

Cumulus laughs then, light and happy, feeling warm and content as she settles back onto her back again. "Guess you better listen to me then, waterbug."

Dew scoffs at the name, but soon the conversation grows quiet and Cumulus's eyes flutter closed again, another round of tiredness pulling at her.

-

The next day she wakes up warmer than before, naked and pressed against Cirrus's back, nose right against where her scent is thickest.

A chirp, soft and content, Cirrus's hand coming back to comb through her unruly hair—the haze of heat overtaking as Cumulus leans into her touch.

She can smell the scent of heat just burning under Cirrus's skin, the need to provide calls deep from in her bones as she presses closer, rolling them until Cirrus is on her front and Cumulus can stretch out across her back, blanketing her—pressing her down against the bed as she does.

Cirrus purrs loudly, content to let Cumulus keep her there. She folds her arms and pillows her head on them, face turned to the side—her features lax and open, happy.

With an answering purr, Cumulus leans down and nuzzles into her jaw, feeling soft downy feathers against her own as she does—before her brain goes too much, she makes a note to have Cirrus sit up later, have her wings on display so she can properly groom them, the most basic act of love of their kind.

Cirrus angles her head, tipping it to the side, purring louder as she puckers her lips, urging Cumulus down with the pout of her lips—she's eager to comply, pressing their lips together sweetly in a chaste kiss.

For a while, they stay like this, trading kisses back and forth, Cirrus's purrs loud and content as she lounges under Cumulus—basking in the weight against her back, the press of bare skin against bare skin.

Warmth surrounds the two of them, scents thickened with pheromones; at some point, Cumulus urges Cirrus up into a sitting position, coaxes her to drop her glamour fully so her wings are out.

She starts at the base of one wing, careful as she coaxes the messy feathers into order until Cirrus is warm putty under her touch, sagging forward as her wings twitch with each pass of her fingers through the feathers.

It's quiet except for the low song that Cumulus is humming, something she'd written on her own, a gentle ode to her love for Cirrus—there's no words, but neither of them need words to convey feelings anymore.

As she finishes one wing, she moves onto the next, spends a considerable amount of time putting all the feathers into order, plucking out the ones that have become a nuisance, Cirrus's scent is warm and sweet, her eyes drooping and sleepy; a true sign of trust and intimacy.

Cumulus keeps an eye on Cirrus, knows when her heat hits that she goes mostly nonverbal, choosing to mostly speak through their bond if she needs to, prefers to give into her instincts—she keeps such a front up when around everyone else, a proper shoulder to lean on, someone who can be firm, a leader.

But here, when they're together, when the press of heat is under her skin, when she's in Cumulus's arms, she allows herself to give up control, trusts that Cumulus knows what she needs, what's best for her.

Knows how to take care of her.

At some point, Cirrus finds herself stretched out on her back, her wings spread out under her while Cumulus's own flare out behind her.

Cumulus has a knee between Cirrus's legs, draws her into a sweet kiss as she shifts closer, presses the heft of her thigh right against Cirrus's cunt.

Cirrus makes a noise into the kiss, claws at Cumulus's arms, at her sides, presses her fingers into soft skin as she grinds down against her, panting as the heat overtakes her, as her mind goes hazy and dumb with it.

It's such a treat, to have her like this, desperate and needy, wet and sticky, messy and Cumulus deepens the kiss, reaches down between her legs and presses her fingertips against the stiff point of her clit—the sudden pressure making Cirrus shudder, a wounded noise tearing its way through her chest as she comes.

Always so easy the first time, Cumulus thinks with some delight, happy that she's able to provide this for her mate. It makes the low burn of her own rut flare up, she doesn't need anything just yet though, content to take Cirrus apart over and over again.

When Cirrus's legs stop shaking, Cumulus pulls her fingers away, brings them up to her lips and takes a moment to taste, humming happily as the thick scent of her mate coats her tongue, worms its way into her senses, her very being.

"Cu," Cirrus mumbles out loud, half delirious, one hand shoved against her shoulder, trying to urge her downwards, "Your mouth, please," she manages to get out.

Cumulus shushes her, kisses her again and they share the taste of Cirrus's slick for a moment, Cirrus's hand getting more insistent and pushy as she tries to redirect Cumulus once more—so she goes, easily, pulls away from the kiss and slinks down the bed, settles on her chest between Cirrus's legs, mouthing kisses along her inner thighs.

There's a litany of praises, of pleases in Cumulus's mind, all coming from her bond with Cirrus as she moves higher and higher until she's able to mouth over her cunt, drag the tip of her tongue along the seam of her lips, a little bit of a tease as she uses two fingers to spread them just enough to drag the flat of her tongue over Cirrus's clit.

Cirrus's hand drops to her hair, not tugging or pulling though, just resting there, keeping her close even as Cumulus continues to tease her with slow little kitten licks, gentle touches even though Cirrus feels like she's burning up from the inside.

Only when a white falls from Cirrus's mouth, sad and despondent, does Cumulus give in, firming up her tongue, each pass along her clit now slow and sensual as she works two fingers into her slowly, curling them upwards—it's just enough to fill Cirrus up, just enough to sate her need but not enough to get her off just yet.

It's perfect, in a maddening way as Cirrus's fingers pet along Cumulus's scalp and she hooks a leg over Cumulus's shoulder, using her heel to pull her closer until Cumulus's face is right against her, her hand squished between them even as she continues to undulate her fingers inside her.

She's begging, she realizes, unsure if out loud or through the bond, the fire in her veins calling for more and Cumulus provides, she happily provides as she presses another finger into her, stretching them and curling them, pressing upwards as she sucks at her clit.

The force and suddenness of this orgasm catches the both of them off guard, Cirrus gushing around Cumulus's fingers, wetting her chin and throat easily, her wrist, her entire hand.

Cirrus makes an urgent noise, tugs, tugs, tugs until Cumulus comes up, knees over her and Cirrus hooks a leg around her waist now, pulls their lower bodies together as she offers up her mouth in a filthy kiss, licking the taste of herself from Cumulus's tongue.

They make out for a bit, Cirrus making happy noises into each kiss, her hand tight in Cumulus's hair to keep her their as their hips rock together minutely—Cirrus can feel the tell-tale signs that Cumulus is affected by all of this, by her own rut, by Cirrus's heat.

It doesn't happen often, only when their cycles line up like this, but Cirrus can feel it, the way Cumulus's clit is hard, peeking out from between her folds, engorged and hot, it nudges between her folds, against her clit with each grind upwards, she's making noises into each kiss, soft little uh uh uhs that have Cumulus purring happily, too content to part ways.

They don't really need to breathe anyway.

She doesn't push even if she wants to, wants to beg Cumulus to fuck her, to fill her, to breed her, make her belong to Cumulus once again after all these years together—she has to stop the train of thought, before it spills over into the bond, but it must anyway because Cumulus laughs softly, musically, pulls away from the kiss and whispers soon against her slack mouth, grinding down against her like she's already trying to make room inside her.

It's wet and slick between them, Cirrus can smell the thick scent of Cumulus's arousal now mixed with her own, she wants to bury her face between Cumulus's legs where the scent is the thickest, take her into her mouth until she's ready to fuck—she whines out loud, grips tight at Cumulus's hips as she comes again, the insistent nudging of Cumulus's clit against hers too much to handle.

She clenches around nothing and briefly mourns, but Cumulus is once again a beautiful, wonderful mate because she reaches between them and stuffs three fingers into Cirrus again, quickly brings her off once more so Cirrus has something to clench around.

It's bliss. True and utter bliss.

"Lovely, lovely," Cumulus murmurs, kissing along her hairline as she comes down again, shuddering as she leaves her fingers inside, curling them just enough so it feels like she's able to hold them. Like they're going to plug her up and keep her full until the heat subsides.

Cirrus purrs happily, loud and content as she allows Cumulus to smother her in kisses, little pecks along her skin as her heat subsides for now, now that she's come and she's full.

Cumulus presses one last kiss to her mouth, pulls back and smiles down at her, "Good?" she asks, she keeps her arm as still as she can, there's an ache in her wrist, in her elbow but she settles down against Cirrus again, pressing her into the bed, "Good, mate?"

"Good," Cirrus mumbles back, turning her head to nuzzle Cumulus's cheek. "Sleepy now."

"Of course, love," Cumulus murmurs, feeling her own rut start to sink its claws into her, but she pushes it down, ignores it for now, "Rest now."

Later on, she'll have Cirrus present for her, she'll grind against her, fill her up until the two of them are locked together as one while Cirrus goes pliant and soft underneath her.

For now, she presses one last kiss to Cirrus's lips, soft and sweet and full of love and drifts off into a light sleep.

[katmaibearfan]

how do I tell these bears that I luv them. I'm baked and emotional. Please let them know with a note or some petting while they sleep. so fluffy

what an incredible first ask to receive on this blog, oh my goodness. this has legit made my morning!

i think the best ways we have to show love to these wonderful creatures is to preserve the land they live on and preserve the salmon run that is the lifeblood of Katmai.

The Katmai Conservancy is a wonderful nonprofit that helps with education, research, preservation, and outreach about Katmai National Park and the things that live there -- from genetic studies on the bear and non-invasive coastal wolf populations to working with local indigenous groups to preserve indigenous knowledge of local plants and their uses. they do so, so much wonderful and wildly important work.

also, they have a merch shop!! i personally own 3 shirts and the fat bear week calendar for 2024, and i love them immensely. they focus on using recycled or otherwise environmentally-friendly materials wherever possible, and since the shop is run by the conservancy itself, all profits go directly to them with no middle man. there's a really cute bear plush that i don't yet own but that i want real bad -- it comes with a sockeye salmon plush and they both have magnets so you can attach the salmon to the bear's mouth!!

also, for bear related cuteness, i'm going to be doing a write up of some katmai bear cam lore soon (you can find the poll for which is first here), and all of the options currently leading are very cute and very sweet stories of bears being incredible, incredible creatures.

again thank you so much for this ask, it really has made my morning!

[elbiotipo]

Workbuilding Fundamentalist question: when it comes to dates, times and calendars in a fantasy setting where do you stand? I'm always conflicted as a writer just because changing the length of a year or what all the months are called all makes sense given that most fantasy worlds aren't earth and because every month is named after a person or deity and our calendar has been changed like 7 times in the real world. And yet I don't want to throw all this extra work at the reader.

Example I have a gas dwarf planet with like, winderwaker islands poking out above the gaseous ocean what people live on. And there's only 4 months in a year there so a 64 year old is still a teenager and it just seems like a lot to make someone keep track of.

First of all, very cool setting, I love islands among the clouds! Now, this is actually something I've given a lot of thought into, and might become a real concern if humanity goes to other planets.

There's, for example, an opening line of a Heinlein novel (IIRC) where a girl says she's 10 years old and thus old enough to marry, which is true, on Mars (the year is 687 days there). There is no reason, if one is designing a new planet, or even finding one IRL, to expect it to have the same day and year lenght to Earth, not even close. Mars with 21 hours is pretty close, but the length of our year and day is really just a cosmic coincidence. You could easily have an reasonably earth-like planet with shorter years (because it's closer to its star, or just revolves faster), or longer days or years.

However, very few fictional settings bother with this, and it's not hard to see why, you can have all sorts of exotic additions to your setting, but to wrap our head through different lenghts of the year or the day is a bit too much. Even different week lenghts, which did exist on history, sound strange. There are all sorts of different fantasy and sci-fi calendars, but at the root, most authors operate with "Earth-time". I don't blame them, it is 'extra work' for some readers, and it's not easy to wrap our head around, it's easier to say "this is sort of an alternate Earth" and be done with it. Also, to lenghten or shortern the year or day might bring all sorts of consequences from ecology to climate that should be considered, otherwise it's just a lame gimmick in my opinion.

HOWEVER, it's still an interesting piece of worldbuilding to consider!

Calendars of a sort have existed since humans started to count seasons and days, but our current society where there are calendars and clocks everywhere is quite recent, actually. I'm sure you are aware of the different calendars besides the BCE-CE one was imposed as the standard, many cultures . But there are also different ways of counting years;. The classic one is seasons, farming societies of course need it the most but hunter-gatherers also follow and know the seasons. There is no reason at all for them to correspond to the "temperate" seasons (summer, fall, winter, spring). Dry and wet seasons, cold and summer, and other options are not only possible, but have actually been widespread on human history. I recommend reading on Wikipedia about seasons, especially the section about non-calendar based seasons.

Of course the above applies to pre-industrial civilizations where timekeeping isn't as widespread. But even in those, counting years and ages is treated differently. Birthdays, for example, don't exist in all cultures. Koreans still count age based on the Korean new year, not your birthday. Some medieval Christian celebrated on the feast of the saint they were named after (and there are lots of them) or IIRC, their baptism. And so, a culture as yours might use different ways of counting the age of a person, perhaps by more "qualitative" rituals than just counting the years (though I have a feeling they would quickly adapt to their own calendar). Much like I told you about different kinds of seasons for different climates, I imagine that in worlds where the years are too short (or too long) to really make sense for the average person, some other ways of counting time will prevail. For example, are there predictable climate cycles in your planet? Moons (lunar calendars are always fun)? I can assume your planet has shorter years because it's closer to your star (by any chance, did you base it on red-dwarf orbiting planets?), so perhaps you could use something regarding the very visible star to count time?

Like I said at the beginning, this will be a real concern when humanity expands through space, and there's even a bit of debate if the human body can adapt to such heavy changes on its circadian rhytm. In any case, my prediction is that there would be a "Earth time", that is, 24-hours day and 365 day year, that is kept as standard out of convenience and in spaceships and space habitats (in my own setting Campoestela, it's called "ship time" because human spaceships use it as standard) and lots of "local times" on different planets with all the quirks I mentioned above, with everyone going into space learning how to convert their own time to "Earth time". Or maybe, to make things even more fun and, admittedly, complicated to the reader, the time of another time is taken as a standard. There's lots to play with here.

DON'T even ask me about relativistic time (like in Interstellar) because it makes my head hurt, even if I did use it a couple times on my stories. But "ship time" might be a real thing. Some cultures might have completely different 'times', not calendars, actually *times*, depending on relativistic time delation.

BTW anon, sorry for using this to promote myself, but if anyone loved this rant and would like to see more, I would appreciate some tips on my ko-fi (given the situation down here, now more than ever) and suggestions for other topics to talk about!

[k-martins]

What does each jjk spirit animal symbolize (Part 1)

Or also "I'm bored so I'll look up random things about Japanese animals"

Yuji Itadori - White Bengal Tiger

This one is a bit obvious, as the kanji in the name "Yuji Itadori" also mean "bengal tiger" according to jjk's wiki. Furthermore, the name "Yuji" means "brave and heroic", which fits with his personality and importance in the plot. These two meanings are also attributed to tigers in Japanese culture, which are seen as symbols of "great power, courage and strength". I'm probably wrong, but this could link Yuji with Byakko, the guardian of the west cardinal point in Japanese mythology. According to legend, the principle of the Heavenly White Tiger is to protect and preserve. Therefore, it was common to find Japanese shoguns, generals and people of power and influence using a coat of arms with a tiger.

(I'm having some thoughts about Yuji and tigers right now, but I'll post that later)

Megumi Fushiguro - Bunnies

This one took me by surprise, but come on. Rabbits symbolize many things in Japanese culture, some of them being longevity, luck, patience, creativity, elegance, calmness, cleverness and BLESSING among children. And we can see that many of these words can also be associated with Megumi. The rabbit is also part of the Japanese calendar, (in fact, 2023 is the year of the rabbit), and one of the interesting things I found was that one of the defects of people born in that year is that they lack self-confidence and avoid confrontations. There are several myths involving rabbits in Japanese mythology and it would be a lot of work to bring them all here, but I want to quote the myth of the Rabbit in the moon (I discovered this thanks to a wonderful fanfic on AO3) which talks about a rabbit taken to the celestial realms by the Old Man Moon Sage after being chosen as the most generous animal. (The rabbits' colors probably symbolize Megumi's dogs)

Nobara Kugisaki - Flamingo

This one was also a surprise, as flamingos are the last thing I would have thought of as a Nobara spirit animal, but which I now fully understand in research. Flamingos symbolize perseverance and strength, elegance and grace. They teach us to be resilient through adversity, always maintaining balance in our actions. Much like Nobara who represented a balance in the trio, being as excited and fun as Itadori, but also smart and calm as Fushiguro. She is also shown to be very persevering in her desires to find Saori and get out of her village life. In Japan, flamingos also symbolize good luck because of the red color of their wings, which are associated with happiness.

Satoru Gojo - Snowy Owl

Ha!!! Satoru Gojo needed to have a majestic animal for him. A snowy owl fit right in, as it is a symbol of wisdom and the ability to see beyond appearances ("my six eyes tell me you are Suguru Geto, but my soul knows otherwise"). The white color, in addition to further accentuating the symbol of knowledge, is also linked to purity and ILLUMINATION (something Sukuna said he lacked in chapter 230). In Japan, owls are used as amulets and talismans to attract good luck, fortune, health and love (Satusugu canon, as Geto/Kenny also has an owl as a spirit animal, but that's for another post).

.

.

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This started out as a shitty post that I just made for fun (and something to do while there's nothing interesting on twitter), but I ended up enjoying researching them. It is interesting to see that each of the animals was not chosen at random, that there is something in their symbology that links them to jjk. I really liked the symbology of Gojo's owl and Nobara's Flamingo (I kind of expected Megumi to have one of her shikigami, but the rabbits surprised me…)

I have a few thoughts about Itadori's tiger, but I think I've said too much.

[muddyorbsblr]

man of the month part 5: may

Series Masterlist @mochie85's Series Masterlist See my full list of works here!

Summary: Scott's shoot is up and apparently the man is quite comfortable with nakedness

Pairing: Loki x Reader (eventually)

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: nudity; handful of bad language words Steve wouldn't approve of [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: mutual pining; idiots in love

You stayed up so far into the early morning finishing up the color grading of both Rhodey's and Shaun's pictures, as well as meticulously doing and redoing the lettering for their months to get everything just the way you pictured it in your head, that you decided you'd spend the night in the studio. Fortunately, there was an unused bedroom setup that was practically calling your name.

Though if you were being honest, even if there wasn't, you'd have probably been content curling up on the couch with how exhausted you were.

As you were combing through the tangles of your bedhead, you practically jumped in your seat as the door to the studio opened, and you stupidly wielded your comb as a weapon against whoever was about to walk through the door. Was it foolish? For sure.  But it was better than nothing in case it was a genuine intruder.

You sighed in relief as you saw Scott come into view. "Dammit Scott, I was about to—"

"What, Scopes? Beat me with a comb?" he retorted with a hearty laugh. "You can put the weapon down, I was just stopping by to see the studio. Make a decision on where I wanted my shoot so I didn't waste minutes on our appointment later." 

"That's…that's really smart," you commended him, earning you a friendly grin. 

You couldn't quite place him yet. Was he one of the men Tony talked about? He never struck you as someone who would be interested in you; you were a far cry from the women he'd been involved with before. But then again, you'd been surprised with Shaun because…

Well, if you were being honest with yourself, you never looked at anyone else. It never occurred to you to look for signs of interest in someone else; you were too caught up in your one-sided attraction with Loki. 

"But you shouldn't be here this early," he spoke into the otherwise empty studio, the soft light of the dawn breaking casting a glow over the space that made it seem almost…whimsical. 

Maybe if you were with the right person, you'd even dare say it was romantic. 

"I'm not here early. I'm still here," you explained. "I slept here. You literally caught me in my 'I woke up like this' era." He chuckled at your words as you waved your hand, motioning toward the various sets. "Just let me fix up the bedroom set and--"

"Actually I have an idea for that. Leave it as is. I'll see you after lunch?" 

You simply answered him with a thumbs up before you put your hair up in a ponytail and sat down in front of your computer to finalize March and April…perhaps experiment on the lettering for May while you were at it. That way you could knock out some of the more minor tasks for the calendar and just have to color grade and plug the pictures in once the shoots were done.

When you heard a steady knock on your studio door, you became painfully aware of the hour. The now harsh sunlight casting a stark, nearly blinding glow over the entire space. You quickly rushed to the windows and drew the blinds in order to bathe the studio in a softer light from your equipment that would be used during Scott's shoot afterward.

"Come in!" you hollered as you pulled on the string that brought the blinds downward. A fond smile pulled at the corners of your mouth as the door opened to reveal Shaun on the other side. "Hey there, Ten Rings. Did you come over to see what the final look for April is? I could pull it up real quick after I bring down these blinds." 

"Oh, I could help you. I'll start on the other end and meet you in the middle?" You nodded at him and he went off to work. "So when I exited your studio yesterday a bunch of the guys were waiting to see if I was the lucky lad you've decided to grace with your love and devotion." 

"God, you're a cheese ball,  you know that?" 

"Anyway," he stressed as you both moved to your next window. "Loki was there." 

"Shaun--"

"You should've seen the relief on his face when I told them all that it wasn't me." You gave him a look that clearly said you didn't believe him. "You can choose not to believe me, Scopes, I'm just telling you what I saw." 

"Alright alright, whatever, Xu," you huffed as you took some deep breaths after drawing the blinds on half the floor on an empty stomach. "Hey when you're done on that last one, could you hit the lights? You're closer." He nodded before walking over to the light switch, a crisp white glow now washing over the studio. "Thanks. So you wanna see your finished page now?" 

"Nah, I know it turned out great. You've got a great eye, amazing attention to detail, and have you seen me?" he finished as he flexed, making you chortle at his antics. "With that killer combination, there's no way that turned out bad."

"So why are you here, then?" 

"Come to check if you've eaten," he answered with a playfully stern tone. "You barely ate anything yesterday and last night when I went down for a midnight snack, I saw a certain Asgardian in the common area poised outside the door to this studio." 

"Okay now I know you're absolutely seeing things, because there's no way on this or any other universe that I'm going to believe that--"

"Again, Scopes, I'm just telling you what I saw. Now assuming that he was there because you hadn't come out of your studio for the night, and also the fact that that bedroom setup looks like it's been slept in, I'm going out on a limb here and guessing that you spent the night in here. And because I know for a fact that that fridge has nothing in it except bougie wine, it's very safe to assume you haven't eaten a goddamn thing." 

Your stomach grumbled before you could form words. "You would be correct." 

He put his palm to his face. "You're going to pass out on us one of these days and it's all gonna be over men in varying degrees of nakedness. For a calendar." You chuckled at the comical impression that passing out over the guys being different types of naked around you placed in your head. "Come on. Let's go get some lunch together at least." 

Shaun held out his arm for you to take as you walked out of the studio, but you shook your head slowly. "I don't do the whole arm in arm thing. Unless it's Wanda. Or Nat. Sorry, bud." He made a show of putting his head down in feigned sadness before pepping right back up with an unreasonably bright smile, making you chortle again.

"Ah, Brother, I see you've set aside a plate for me. Thank you that's rather considerate of you," Thor greeted with a bright smile as he sat down next to Loki at the kitchen island. He grabbed a fork and made a motion as if he were about to dig in, before he stopped himself. "This isn't poisoned, is it, Brother? A prank for me at the sake of your entertainment?" 

"I can assure you it is not poisoned." 

"Potioned, then? It would turn me into a frog. No, that would be old tricks for you. A dog? Or…Norns, would this turn me into a woman?" 

"'Potioned' is not a real word, Thor," the god of mischief droned.

"But is it? The food, I mean?" 

"The food is simply food and it wasn't meant for you." The god had set the second plate beside him, his eyes trained on the door to your studio since he sat himself down by the island half an hour ago. He didn't hear the door to your apartment open nor close the previous night, so he assumed that you'd slept in there amongst the sets and the equipment.

"Ah, so I presume that this was meant for Lady Y/N, then?" his brother asked with a teasing lilt. "She may appreciate it more if you just told her how you felt up front, Brother." 

"I know not what you're talking about," he hissed. "I simply set it aside so that she need not trouble herself further. Stark already overworks her with this…date keeper project of his." 

"Loki if you care for her, might I suggest just…telling--" 

His words were cut off by the sound of your studio door opening, and the god felt a heavy weight on his chest as he saw you walk out with Xu following close behind and closing the door behind him. "Look who I've retrieved from the calendar dungeon, everybody," he said with a gratingly jovial tone. 

"Hello hello," you said with haphazard circular waves of your hands as you addressed everyone. "I'm alive and I need a shower and food. Not necessarily in that order." Loki felt his skin chill over and begin to prickle as he noticed Barnes begin to get up and grab an empty plate for you.

"Shall I vacate this seat then, Brother?" Thor goaded. "Worry not. I'll decide for you." He quickly hopped off his stool and stalked over to you, placing a hand at your upper back and whispering something in your ear, and motioning for you to take his formerly occupied seat.

A strange warmth washed over him as he watched you walk over to the island and he positioned his arm to steady you in case you were to stumble as you perched yourself on the elevated seat. He could have sworn his heart became lodged in his throat as you looked up at him with your kind, visibly tired eyes, as you softly said, "Thank you" before picking up the fork that his brother had been holding prior and slowly making your way through the plate of bolognese. 

The other members of the team kept on asking you about how the date keeper was coming along and you so graciously answered every question in between bites, and confirming your appointment with Lang for later in the evening. He had questions for you, too. Mainly if you were alright, if you felt overworked. If you needed to take a break from this. 

And when the last time you had a proper night's sleep was. 

Instead his mind wandered down a path he did not tread often: the possibility of him having been wrong. Why would his brother so willingly push you in his direction if he, too, was interested in you? Why keep his actions respectable and dare not breach boundaries with how he addresses you the way that Barnes did with his insistence on calling you "Babes"?

Had the god truly been wrong? Or perhaps…Had he underestimated the level of thought and care that his brother could put into hatching a plan? Perhaps it wasn't that he was pushing you in his direction, but merely creating the illusion of doing so. 

Ensuring that he'd keep his brother's guard down, and having you believe that he only feels for you in a friendly manner. And then sweeping the rug from both your feet in one move by asking if he could court you when his appointment comes up tomorrow. 

Oh, Brother, I underestimated you, he thought to himself. I assure you I will not make that mistake again.

You'd felt a bit more like yourself again once you were able to set aside a good hour and a half just taking your time as you showered, using your favorite, most luxurious products on hand. When you emerged from your bathroom you smelled like a mix of lemons and strawberries, finally feeling a semblance of human again.

Now you were back in your studio, triple checking that your camera was sufficiently charged and the memory card was plugged in. All that was missing was Scott.

"Heeeey Scopes," he greeted as he strutted into the studio, walking past you and straight to the bedroom setup that you'd slept in the night before. "Thanks for leaving the bed as it was this morning." You didn't turn around to look at him yet, hearing the rustling of fabric consistent with the unbuttoning of a shirt. "So it's as naked as I'm comfortable with, right?" 

"Yup," you answered, popping the p. "Just holler at me when you're ready." 

A bit more rustling, this time sounding like the comforter, and then a few seconds later, you heard him say, "Alright, Scopes! I'm ready." 

You fiddled with your camera, making sure you've got the correct settings that you'd preset for the bedroom setup, looking up into the set and seeing Scott laying on the bed with nothing on, the rumpled sheet placed strategically to cover just his pelvic area.

"Dammit Scott, now I have to change the sheets," you grumbled with false annoyance.

"You said as naked as I'm comfortable with, so--"

"No no, it's fine. Good, even, because that means we actually have at least one person doing a 'Tasteful Nude' in this calendar." You chuckled at the words. "Mark would be so proud," you commented, motioning toward Scott and his current predicament. 

"So what is the deal with you and that plier guy? You ever talk to him after that weird FaceTime where he kept apologizing to tall, dark, and meany?" You shook your head at him, giving him a rueful smile. "Why not? He seemed into you."

"Well, he's cute but…not my type." You clicked your tongue as you tried to remember the call with the man all those weeks ago. "Seems too clean. Too innocent. Definitely intrigued by our way of life but ultimately it'll lead to him leaving because he's not cut out to live around this."

"Well at least there's always the team," he quipped as you tried taking another shot. "The serum boys have it bad for you." 

That made you break out into a fit of laughter. "Se—Serum boys?" you asked in between laughs. "What in the actual fuck, Scott?"

"Well, you know--super soldier serum, couple of veteran soldier boys…Serum Boys!" he explained between chuckles. "But uhh…you know. There are guys here interested in…being more." 

"And where exactly do you fall in that list, Scott?" you asked, looking at him with a single raised brow. 

"Somewhere in the middle, I gotta admit. If I'm the guy? Then you're gorgeous and I wanna see if we can make something out of this. If I'm not? No hard feelings, I'd still want to be your friend even if you are a friend who's seen me next to naked, laying on a bed that you just slept in the night before." 

You both looked at each other for a while in complete silence, before once again breaking out into hearty laughter. "It's not you, Scott," you said truthfully. "Now, lemme get something to stand on because I think a pose like this requires an overhead shot, you know? Flat lay that shit." 

"I like it, but also…I don't know. It feels a bit like I'm missing something." 

"You're not wearing clothes, Scott. You're missing a lot of somethings." He sputtered into laughter again, making sure to clutch the sheet so he didn't accidentally flash you. "But I might have an idea. Gimme a few seconds to get a chair…and a prop for you." 

You rummaged through the bathroom set and found a handheld mirror, which you brought back to the bedroom set along with your chair, ultimately deciding against balancing yourself on one of the stools because it seemed too unstable for you to stand up on it on the tips of your toes.

"Okay now hold this, pointed to the headboard and then make a face at the camera. Like…goofy sexy. Make sure it's giving…duck face but hot." 

"I have no idea what you just said but I'll give it a shot. Just tell me when," he responded with furrowed brows as he took the mirror from you, letting you perch yourself on the chair, rising to the very tips of your toes.

"You're scarily strong if you can do that on something as unstable as a swivel chair, Scopes. How the--?"

"I did ballet," you explained, the amusement rife on his face. "If any word of this ever gets out to the team, I will fuck with your suit so bad even Tony can't fix it." He held up a Scout's Honor salute with his free hand in response. "And honestly I've balanced myself on way more unstable surfaces…for kill shots." 

"Hey Babes just checking in to see if you're gonna be done soon, Nat and I wanna go out for dinner--WHOA sweet Jesus what a view," you heard Wanda speaking from somewhere behind you. "We're leaving in an hour if you wanna come with. And Scott?" He craned his head to look towards the door. "Nice." 

You chuckled with your eye against the viewfinder, frustrated that the elevation still wasn't enough, so you hopped off the chair and went over to the study set to pull out a few volumes of the encyclopedia. You stacked three on top of one another and balanced yourself, feet flat, on the tomes. 

"Scopes that looks a bit more dangerous…" 

"Don't focus on where I'm standing, Lang, focus on the camera. Now just like we talked about. Duck face smirk. You got this. And I wanna actually make it to dinner with my friends so I'm hoping you really got this." 

It had been over an hour since Lang's appointment with you began when Loki noticed that the Scarlet Witch waltzed into your studio, inviting you to dinner with her and Romanoff, and that they'd be leaving in an hour if you were free by then. 

What had the god feeling uneasy, however, was the Sokovian's comment of 'what a view'. What exactly had she seen to warrant such a comment?

He kept his gaze on the door as she walked out, a visibly impressed look on her face as she addressed Stark, who was currently in the kitchen with his little girl, taking out one of those artificially flavored treats out of the freezer. "You better be paying our babes Scopes in there some serious money, Tony. She's not half-assing anything. Perched up on her tip toes, on a chair, just to get—"

He'd heard enough. He was up on his feet and striding into your studio, bracing himself to be greeted by the sight of something similar to what he saw the day before with Xu. It couldn't be any worse than seeing you in another man's arms. Not possibly. 

Except it was. For some unknown inane reason, the knowledge that you had been in here with Lang being completely naked, with only a rumpled bedsheet covering his undoubtedly inferior manhood from your unsullied eyes, was so much worse than what he witnessed yesterday.

And then there was you. Perched on a stack of books situated atop your swiveling chair, your feet constantly making minute adjustments in order to keep steady. Suddenly the only thing he could think about was you somehow losing your balance and landing right into the mattress, and he despised the image that that thought conjured into his head. He couldn't have that. 

Without giving it much thought he began to stride over to the set at the far end of your studio. 

"Uuuuh Scopes?" Lang said in a shaky warning tone. "We got company."

"Wanda I swear I will be there before you and Nat—hey!!" Your words had been cut off by the god hoisting you over his shoulder, an arm wrapped around your upper thighs while the other went around your calves. "What gives?" 

"That was too precarious, Y/N," he answered you simply.

"Wait hold up. Loki?" You squirmed in his hold, keeping your back straight as you refused to release your grip on your camera, letting out a soft gasp as if you'd realized something. "Wait. Don't put me down yet, just stay still." 

"Darling?" He bit his tongue again as he'd forgotten that while it wasn't quite the main conference room with the rest of the team present, Lang was still in the room, witnessing a quite evident display of exactly how much the god truly cared for you. 

"Just--please." There was a tremble to your voice as you said it, and he wanted to smack himself for making you so clearly uncomfortable again. He simply wanted to keep you safe, make sure that you didn't injure yourself all due to your dedication to this project of Stark's. He stayed still, holding you steady as best he could. "Thank you. Now Scott? Look at the camera and gimme the duck face smirk." He heard the shutter of your camera go off several times before you spoke again. "Okay I got it. Thanks, Mischief. You uhh…you can put me down now. And Lang? Put your clothes back on." 

Loki set you down gently back on your feet, making sure that he angled you both in a way where his body blocked your eyes from being witness to Lang's nakedness. "You could have injured yourself," he said softly.

"I get injured all the time. Occupational hazard," you answered with a casual shrug as you tinkered with your camera to extract a small chip from the inside. "But thank you, Loki." His heart jumped at the sound of his name from your lips, making him long to be in such a position that he'd be able to hear it more often. "Don't let me get used to it, though, or I might call you every time my height betrays me," you finished with an audibly nervous chuckle. 

"Whatever I may do to assist you, da--Y/N." He quickly righted himself as he realized he held your hand in his. "I'll--I'll leave you to your duties." He gave your hand a quick squeeze before letting go, committing the feel of holding you to memory, before then proceeding to walk out of your studio.

When an actual god from Norse Mythology walks in to your photoshoot? In the nude? That could make any average man shrink where they stood. Or laid.

And Scott Lang didn't just shrink. No. He fucking cowered. The look on the Asgardian's face as he saw the current layout of the photoshoot, the undeniable irritation and anger in his eyes had him wishing he could just wrap the sheet around him and waddle away from the studio without a single glance back. 

But then that irritation morphed so quickly into concern as he saw how you were perched on the books, and that alone made Scott want to stay for the show. And he was glad he did because getting to see that entire scene play out made him realize two things:

First, the one from the team that you had feelings for was none other than Mr Tall, Dark, and Meany himself. That alone made him realize why you never pursued anything with that Mark guy. You wouldn't divert your attention to anyone else when the one who held it was literally in the league of the gods. 

Second? Your feelings were most definitely not one-sided. That was painfully obvious, he couldn't figure out how youcouldn't see it.

Scott walked out of your studio, satisfied at the rough draft you showed him of what his page would look like. When he saw that most of the remaining guys with pending shoots, Loki included and in the front of the group, were waiting with bated breath in the common area, he did a big flourish toward himself with the proudest smile on his face. Most of their eyes widened at the action. 

"Relax, gentlemen, it's not me. Don't everyone hug me at once." He spotted Shaun at the kitchen island, giving out a smug look as if he already knew that that was the answer, which had him walking toward the fellow newbie from San Fransisco. 

"What's up, Frisco Bro?" 

"Sorry what?" Shaun began to laugh at the absurdity of the name. "I mean I like it. Frisco because of where we're from. Anyway, what's up?" 

"I think you know who it is, and I think I know who it is, too." 

"Oh I definitely know who it is," he said smugly. "I have confirmation and everything." 

"Tall, dark, scary, and green?" 

"No, it's not Banner."

"I'm not talking about the Hulk, dummy! I'm talking about the god." 

"Ohh. Then yeah, we're on the same page. I'm assuming you also know that he definitely likes her, too." 

"Dude, it's so obvious! He really went in and grabbed her because he was scared she was gonna fall off her tiny ass makeshift platform of books on top of her swivel chair. I don't even know how she doesn't see it herself by now." 

"I don't know, either. Kinda wanna smack their heads together. Tell them hey, they like you back, save yourselves the misery." 

The sound of the boys from San Fransisco talking about his brother made Thor realize that Loki's affections towards you were becoming painfully obvious to more members of the group. 

Tomorrow was his appointment with you, and he had every intention to steer your attention toward his brother, what ever may happen. He knew that you two would be good together, for you tamed the otherwise irritable nature of the god of mischief, and even now while you weren't in courtship quite yet, he made efforts to anticipate your needs. Helping you before you even realized you were in need of it. 

If your affections were not directed toward his brother, by tomorrow, Thor was determined to make it so. 

A/N: Idk about you but I have a feeling that some chaos is about to go down during Thor's shoot…

Everything taglist: @lokisgoodgirl @lokischambermaid @imalovernotahater @mygfloki @lucylaufeyson3 @thomase1 @springdandelixn @fictive-sl0th @mochie85 @laliceee @xorpsbane @gigglingtigger @silverfire475 @cabingrlandrandomcrap @vickie5446 @salempoe @lokixryss @sinsandguilt @lokidbadguy @alexakeyloveloki @glitterylokislut @arch-venus25 @freefrommars @littlemortals @cakesandtom @girl-of-multi-fandoms @mischief2sarawr @thedistractedagglomeration @five-miles-over @goblingirlsarah @peaches1958 @huntress-artemiss @lilibet261 @iobsessoverfictionalmen @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lovingchoices14 @avoliax @devilsadvocactus @purplegrrl27 @lokiprompts @sititran @imherefortomhiddleston @ladyjames78 @stupidthoughtsinwriting @kikster606 @evelyn-kingsley @kats72 @ronnieissupermegafoxyawesomehot @creationsbyme

Loki taglist: @calumance @severuslovebot @moonlightreader649 @ozymdias @i-stand-with-loki @eleniblue

[ladamedusoif]

Music (Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 5

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist. FYI: I'm having so much trouble with taglists at the moment that I'm not going to use them for now - if you want to keep updated, follow @ladameecrit and turn on notifications.

Pairing: Marcus Moreno x Music Teacher F!Reader

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Fluff; intended as taking place after the events of We Can Be Heroes; one very tiny minor swear; Missy plays the trumpet; some references to Christmas carols and A Christmas Carol; yes the denouement is partly inspired by a scene in Love, Actually; no physical descriptions of reader; no use of Y/N; Marcus Moreno in a Fair Isle sweater.

Word count: 1565

Summary: Marcus Moreno is a Band Dad. You’re Missy’s music teacher and director of the junior high school orchestra. And you might have a tiny crush on a Heroic. And where better to realise that than at the holiday concert?

“Marcus. Marcus. MARCUS!”

Anita Moreno stands in the doorway of her son’s kitchen, wondering why Marcus is so oblivious to her voice as he empties the dishwasher, back turned. 

“Oh, shit!” He lets a plate fall, startled by the seemingly sudden apparition of his mother. “Hi, Mom.” Marcus removes a pair of earplugs, scoops up the broken crockery, and crosses the room to embrace Anita.

“Earplugs, mijo?”

He shrugs and points upstairs, in the general direction of his daughter Missy’s bedroom. The strains of the trumpet solo on Joy to the World float through the house.

“She’s practicing extra hard for the holiday concert in a couple of weeks. She’s really good, Mom, she’s a star soloist. But… there’s only so many times you can hear the same stuff."

Anita huffs a laugh. “Been there, done that. I was secretly very glad when you decided you didn’t want to keep up piano lessons.”

Your rehearsal with the school orchestra is winding to a close with a final run through of Carol of the Bells, when you catch a glimpse of Marcus Moreno slipping quietly into the little auditorium and taking a seat near the back. He nods towards you in recognition, and you return the gesture while continuing to conduct the musicians. 

Missy joined the orchestra a couple of months after her mother died, the camaraderie and creative outlet a useful form of therapy for a grieving child. Marcus, understandably, had been a little protective of her at first: ensuring he was there to pick her up after evening rehearsals, insisting on driving her to weekend day-long training and performance events, and always being one of the first to arrive for every show.

You had a quiet, teacherly pride in the way Missy had grown in confidence and independence since joining the group. Marcus still sometimes arrived early for pick up, settling in to hear the last piece of music at the back of the room, just like this evening. And he remained an enthusiastic “band dad”, as his Heroic colleagues teasingly called him. He’d worked closely with you on fundraising events over the years, and gladly used his public profile to boost support for programmes designed to give instruments to children otherwise unable to afford them. You had come to enjoy spending time with him, quietly thrilled whenever he would appear at rehearsal or join you at funding drives.

The final note rings out from the handbell section. Your hand signal marks the end of the piece. The teenagers begin chattering excitedly, and Marcus “Band Dad” Moreno applauds in the back row. 

You can’t help but laugh when he starts cheering “Bravo!”, sending a mortified Missy diving for cover behind her trumpet case. He swiftly walks down the aisle when he notices you struggling to fold up the portable music stands, insisting on lending a hand as you start wrangling them off stage. He makes short work of it, lifting them with little to no effort and carrying them in his strong arms.

“Sounding great, as always,” he muses, stacking the stands in the little music store room. “I’m really looking forward to the show. Missy’s been practicing every minute she gets, she’s so excited about that solo.”

“She’s a talented musician, Marcus.” You lean in conspiratorially. “Even so, I hope you have invested in those earplugs I recommended. No matter how talented she is.”

He smiles that warm, genuine smile that somehow feels like the sun coming out, even in the depths of midwinter, and leans even closer. “Two pairs, just in case. And thank you. Seriously, thank you.”

“Has anyone heard from Missy?”

Your musicians shake their heads. It’s 6.55pm, the show is due to begin at seven, and there’s no sign of your lead trumpeter. The students have been trying to contact her on every social platform they can (and that’s a lot), and you’ve left a voicemail for Marcus.

“I’m going to try her dad one more time. For now: please take your places. If she doesn’t show, we’ll just have to fudge Joy to the World.”

Your left hand twitches nervously as you pace around backstage, listening to the ringing tone on the other end of the line. The telltale click of a call going to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

“Marcus, hi, just me again. Um, we’re a little worried to have not heard from you or Missy and we hope you’re both okay. Please don’t panic and get here whenever you can, okay? But be safe. Hope you’re safe.”

As you hang up, you realise just how worried you are about them. 

Marcus is getting out of his car before it has fully come to a halt, grabbing Missy’s bags and setting off at speed in the direction of the back entrance into the auditorium when his daughter calls him back. 

“Dad! You forgot to turn off the engine?”

He swears under his breath, sprints back to the vehicle, and grabs Missy by the hand as they run into the school. 

“Do you think we’ve missed your solo? I’m so sorry, sweetheart, you know how work gets sometimes and -”

Missy thinks for a moment, listening carefully to the music coming from the auditorium as she leads her dad down the narrow backstage corridors. “No, they’re still on In the Bleak Midwinter,” she whispers in reply. “Then there’s an intermission, and then it’s Joy to the World.”

Marcus exhales in relief, but keeps up his pace. “Phew. Okay. Guess we have to wait for intermission, right? Do you feel okay? Able to go on? Not too out of breath?”

Missy pats her dad on the arm. “It’s fine, Dad. I’ve got this.”

The orchestra and vocalists file off for the short intermission and you follow close behind, mentally trying to work out how to cover up the missing solo in the second half of the show. 

And there they are. Missy, silently practicing on her silver trumpet, while Marcus, wearing a dark green sweater with a Fair Isle pattern around the yoke, stands with his arms folded and what can only be described as a look of sheer anxiety on his face.

“You’re here! You’re okay! I mean, uh… you made it!”

Marcus looks up at the sound of your voice and shrugs apologetically. “I’m so sorry, it was…work stuff, I can’t… I’m so sorry, is it still okay for Missy to perform? She’s worked so hard and -”

Instinctively, you place a reassuring hand on his forearm. He feels warm and solid under the soft yarn. 

“Breathe, Marcus. Of course she’s performing. I’m just so happy you’re both here.”

He unfolds his arms, visibly relaxing, and lightly touches your shoulder. “I’m happy we’re here, too.”

Is he…blushing?

Missy’s solo is, as expected, a triumph. She plays better than she’s ever done before, the house erupting in applause as the piece ends and she takes a special bow. 

You have a little break now from conducting duties, as the orchestra remains on stage while a couple of students from the drama club perform extracts from A Christmas Carol. You return backstage to get a drink of water, and find Marcus standing behind the black curtains serving as a backdrop, peeking through and beaming with pride and delight at his daughter.

“She’s wonderful, Marcus.” 

He nods as you stand beside him. “She is. But she has a great teacher, too. You’ve been so important to us - I mean, to her - the last few years.”

Now it’s your turn to feel heat rise through your body as you become aware of just how close you are to him, of the feelings that refuse to go away, no matter how much you try to suppress them. 

Even in the semi-darkness, you can see how he’s looking at you from behind his glasses. Warm. Kind. And…wanting?

There’s no one else around. Everyone else is either on stage or in the auditorium. 

You move closer simultaneously, leaning in and inclining your head in anticipation of what you think - hope - is about to happen. And then those big, broad hands are caressing your face and cradling it as his plush lips meet yours, his moustache a little ticklish against the soft skin of your mouth, and your arms wrap around Marcus’s broad body as his kiss intensifies.

The student acting as narrator is declaiming how Ebenezer Scrooge was a second father to Tiny Tim - who did not die - as Marcus Moreno holds you tight and kisses you. Even Dickens couldn’t top this.

And then you forget, for an instant, where you are. Marcus shifts just a little too much to the right, you move with him, and with a thundering crash the backdrop falls from the rigging to the floor, exposing the two of you wrapped around each other.

The kid playing Tiny Tim isn’t going to let anything interrupt his big moment, not even the music teacher making out with a literal superhero on stage during the big holiday concert. As the auditorium gasps, the orchestra swivels and stares, and Missy slumps forward and groans, he doesn’t miss a beat as he throws his arms wide and proclaims: “God bless us, every one!”

[moxiebustion]

I had an idea for the Old Guard and Sherlock Holmes a few months back, which goes like this.

John Watson is an immortal.

He doesn't remember the year he was born, but it was after Andy and just before Quynh; and in any case the calendar has changed over more than a couple of times since then.

He is, in an incredibly unlikely scenario, killed by Andy the first time, because this was way back in Andy's crusading days and there have been plenty of invaders to Albion. They kill each other and dumb chance has one of them getting washed away by a river or something and hey, look at that, no dreams, because technically they have met before. Hardly a meeting to engender the warm fuzzies in any case. Life goes on.

Andy goes back to her wandering.

Watson, after many aimless years believing himself to be cursed to be a walking ghost, watching all the people he falls in love with die, falls in with a leader of men - a truly unique mind - and it lights a spark and gives him a purpose, finally. When the king dies, he makes John swear that he will defend his lands and his people until his last breath, which, you know, might be a while. Watson vows it, and Watson is not a man who breaks promises.

Sometime in the ensuing centuries and far to the east, Andy finds Quynh (or more accurately, Quynh finds her) and oh, hey, those dreams were about an actual person, they're real, Andy is not alone. There is much rejoicing, etc, etc, and Quynh says hey, we might have to go find the other one.

And Andy is like... what the fuck?

So they head back west and lo and behold, it's the damn random soldier that wouldn't quit and got tossed into a river for his trouble. And he's amazed, astounded, enthralled. Well, he is after they've clashed swards a few times; in Watson's defense, he has no idea what the fuck is happening. He's been haunted by weird dreams of a lady getting it on with his murderer for years and, you know, this is centuries pre-Jung, he has no explanation at all for this except that he might be going ever so slightly, benignly insane.

So, anyway. Blood is spilled, then swords are disarmed, explanations are had, amazed, astounded, enthralled etc etc.

Andy says you should come with us.

John, channeling his inner Hobbit two and a half millennia before JRR Tolkien was even conceived offer her a polite thanks ever so much, but, um, no.

Andy's like, what the fuck?

And Watson is like, well, I made a promise, and you don't break promises, do you? I swore to protect these lands and by gum, I'm going to do just that, thank you.

And Quynh says, aren't you bored though?

And Watson just give her a slight smile because at this point he's had three wives and two husbands and has raised innumerable orphans and says well, no. Not really. Wherever I go I find interesting people. Truly unique minds. My king rises again, you see. And so do all my friends. They rise again and again. I see them everywhere, in every genius, every artist, every eccentric who takes a chisel to the universe and cracks it open. They're always there if you care to look. And I swore I would protect them and I'll keep my word, so I will.

Andy looks at him like he's insane, but shrugs and says, well, when you change your mind come and find us, we'll be out there doing some actual good.

And Watson just gives her a little smile and said gods go with you then, Andromache the Scythian. You'll have a hope and a sword arm with me if needed, but otherwise I'm staying right here, thank you very much.

And that's that.

Andy expects Watson to join them eventually. He never does. It drives her fucking mental, which means she respects the hell out of him for it.

Time goes on. Life goes on. Seven husbands and three wives later, Watson meets the new guys. He adores Nicky and Joe - he's known as Galvagin by this period of history, and Nicky and Joe are fascinated by this immortal who has travelled every continent in earth (and married on them), but never wanders. He has a home. He has people who know he's immortal in his home. His spouses all knew, so do most of his children. They keep the secret. He becomes a local cryptid of sorts. Oh, yes, that's just the old soldier's house, ha ha, they say he's immortal, ha ha. And no one ever examines the joke too closely. Besides, some old-fashioned jingoism helps keep the secret too. He's their immortal, isn't he? Proper British and all that. It's not as if he's some foreigner.

The Old Guard come and go through the years. Sometimes Watson will join them on a grand adventure or a fight for a few years, but he'll always head home. Sometimes they'll lodge with him and explore every nook and cranny he knows of the isles. Andy and Watson's relationship becomes strained after Quynh is lost, because look at you, why do you defend them?? But Watson gave his word and he will not break it, even for Andy. What people are without sins, he asks, without treachery and cruelty and ignorance? The Old Guard has helped plenty of pretty shady regimes in their time. They can only be made better, only helped to change. He will search every inch of the coast, he promises, he will chase every rumour and every hint that comes to him. He will sail every boat that might conceivably travel across where she might be. He will try. But he will not leave.

He does help search. But eventually the others, grieving and in despair, must leave again. Watson promises to keep his eyes peeled in the meantime, a solitary watchman.

Watson doesn't see them again - except for letters - until the advent of Booker. He connects with Booker over his grief - oh, how many children has Watson lost! Spouses too! And over an astounding number of stories of unique minds, his resurrected friends, that Watson has found over the years. Watson is himself a very interesting man, and a good storyteller and Booker shares this love of stories. He tells him if he ever needs respite, he can come to Watson's home for a while.

Booker opts to stay with the Old Guard only because he still doesn't like the English very much, and also because running into jobs and missions sometimes distracts from the wailing grief inside his head.

When they finally all meet again, Victoria is on the throne, steam trains are ascendant and Watson has shacked up with another unique mind at 221B Baker Street.

He's an interesting one, Watson, who is now Watson properly on paper. And he smiles. He has found another friend, risen again.

Why John? Andy asked.

Boring, Joe says, who is still somewhat smarting over Joseph Jones.

John shrugs and says: There's enough Johns to make it commonplace, and I'm pretty commonplace. And Watson because, what son am I, where is my father? I do not remember.

Besides, he adds ruefully, no one uses Galvagin these days. No one east of Wales can pronounce Gwalchmei correctly...

(Booker nods in fellow feeling).

And Gawain just sounds pretentious. So... John.

It is a good name, Nicky Smith smiles.

And in the corner Sherlock is losing his goddamn mind because he had a) no fucking idea what kind of mismatched pidgin they are speaking and b) every single logical deduction he tries to make about these people all make perfect sense until they open their mouths and start talking about their lives, and then it's like OUT OF CHEESE ERROR, REINSTALL UNIVERSE AND REBOOT.

The problem with John Watson is that you have to eliminate the impossible, and the marker for that keeps fucking moving.

(Mycroft, on the other hand, as this era's Copley, sweats bullets every time John gets within spitting distance of the Stone of Scone)

[starsstuddedsky]

As a Matter of Fact [Teaser]

reader x jihoon

masterlist | Chapter 1

summary: when you're caught in a simple lie, the best solution? dig in and stick to your guns until everything inevitably goes wrong and everyone gets hurt

or, a serial dater and a pessimist fake a relationship in the vain hope that nothing will go wrong

genre: fluff, angst, non-idol au, lawyer au, coworkers to lovers??? friends to lovers???? fake dating!!!!!

warnings: drinking, food, arguing, refusal to acknowledge feelings, two kisses, whatever is going on with Wonwoo, suggestive jokes (courtesy of Wonwoo)

teaser wc: 1.5k

full wc: 38k (I’m sorry)

a/n: AHHHHHHHH i've been working on this for too long, I'm so happy that i'm finally sharing this with you all!! I'm gonna split the full story into chapters but i'm not entirely sure how many there will - though it's all written (AH), it still needs editing so i will keep y'all updated <3

edit: I’m estimating roughly 10 chapters, hopefully released weekly (first date 2/14!!!)

updates: every tuesday

finally if you would like to know when the first chapter drops, just send an ask <3

If Jihoon was stopped on the street and told to name three facts about you, he could probably do it. He doesn’t know your favorite color, or what you ate for dinner last night, but he knows where you went to school (since it’s been the same school as him since elementary school) and where you work (since it’s the same law firm he works at). He might struggle for a bit for a third fact, but eventually settle for this: you are hopeless when it comes to love. 

Unfortunately, Soonyoung isn’t asking three facts about you, he is asking what Jihoon has planned for your anniversary. Jihoon blinks at Soonyoung, standing beside his table. 

“My anniversary?” 

“Yeah,” he says slowly. “With yn?” 

He runs a mental check of any possible thing that Soonyoung could be referring to, then checks his calendar on his phone. Both come up empty. 

To be honest, Jihoon would be more surprised if there is something he’s forgetting. Despite knowing you for so long, he’d never call you his friend; at best, you're a coworker. 

But the way Soonyoung is looking at him now makes him wonder if he’s forgotten something, and worry that whatever he’s forgotten is important. 

“You don’t have anything planned?” Soonyoung says, loud enough for the couple sitting at the table across from Jihoon look up. Soonyoung doesn’t seem to notice. “Dude, it’s been a whole year. I can’t remember the last time yn has had a boyfriend for a full year, you have nothing planned?” 

Boyfriend? Jihoon stands up, snapping his laptop shut. “Look, I don’t really know what’s going on, and quite frankly, I don’t have time for it. Tell yn, or whoever is behind this prank that it’s not funny and to grow up.” He leaves Soonyoung standing there frowning, leaving the coffee shop and pulling his satchel over his shoulder. 

It’s a short walk from the coffee shop to the firm, and Jihoon uses it to think things through. Here is what he knows: 1) Soonyoung is your best friend since middle school 2) he isn’t the type to lie about this for fun and 3) you have sworn off dating (a fourth fact!). So either A) Soonyoung lied (uncharacteristic) or B) you’ve lied (not out of character for you, you are a divorce lawyer). He figures the second option makes the most sense, though the why still troubles him. He waits for the elevator staring at his distorted reflection that makes face shrink and his ears look comically large. 

There’s a small ding and the doors open, a stream of people flowing out that Jihoon politely steps to the side to let through. Thankfully, it’s a much less crowded ride up, only a couple other people, none of whom are going to the firm on the nineteenth floor. Jihoon is able to focus completely on the person he otherwise has spent very little time thinking about: you. 

Despite knowing you for so many years, Jihoon really couldn’t say much about you (see above limited list of facts). What he does know is usually filtered by Wonwoo, whose office is next to yours and separated by rather thin walls. Jihoon didn’t expect Wonwoo to be into gossip, especially since he’s known you since law school and actually calls himself your friend, but Jihoon has heard more about your love life than he ever wanted to. That’s why he knows of crucial fact #4: You have sworn off dating. 

He knows, from Wonwoo, that after your third boyfriend in as many months, you gave up on ever being able to balance dating and work, tired of having your heart broken over and over again. According to Wonwoo, who allegedly heard this from you on over the phone with your friend (which Jihoon thinks is at the very least an invasion of privacy, but Wonwoo argued you were on a personal call during work hours so it’s free game), you cited your failures in love to your own tendency to “catch feelings too fast” (he isn’t sure if Wonwoo was quoting you or using his own words, but they stuck with him). But, from Wonwoo’s lamenting, he knows that you’ve since sworn off dating, giving up on the pains of failed romance. So why does your best friend think that you’ve been dating him for the past year? 

He isn’t thinking when he walks into your office without knocking. You’re on the phone, though you hang up quickly when he walks in. You’re frowning, and he wonders if Soonyoung was on the phone when you hung up. You stand as he pulls the door shut behind him. 

“I can explain,” you say, confirming his suspicions. “It’s not what you think.” 

“Oh, so you haven’t lied to your friends and told them we’re dating?” Jihoon says, folding his arms. 

“It sounds bad when you say it like that,” you mumble. 

“It is bad,” he says, shaking his head. “Honestly, you’re lucky I don’t report you to HR. This is borderline harassment, you really should know better.” 

“I know,” you say, voice barely above a whisper. 

“Seriously, did you think you could get away with it? Soonyoung went to middle school and high school with us, surely you knew this wouldn’t last,” he says. “What were you going to do at a reunion?” 

“Well, I didn’t go last year,” you mumble. You leave out neither did you, but when you meet his eyes, he can tell that you aren’t totally beat. Not yet. 

“I just thought you were smarter than this,” Jihoon says. “I mean, we don’t know each other well, and I know you never scored as high as I did on tests, but I didn’t think you’d be this stupid.” 

“I get it, you think I didn’t think this through,” you say. “I really am sorry, but I don’t have the time to listen to you lecture me for a full hour, so can you at least make it quick?” 

Jihoon blinks. “Why?” He says, more statement than question. “Why did you lie?” 

You sigh, slumping into your chair. “Long story very short, I had a few too many bad relationships and I decided I wasn’t going to date anymore because apparently I have a tendency to fall in love with brick walls.” 

Jihoon figures it’s a bad idea to tell you he already knew that, opting to nod so that you continue to explain. 

“The problem is, pretty much none of my friends believed that I would actually be able to keep it up,” you say. “They thought that I’d fall for the first person that gave me an ounce of attention. The thing is, it actually did work. I haven’t been on a date in a year, and I think it’s been really, really good for me. But my friends didn’t believe it. 

“So I lied. I told them I started dating someone from work, and I did think it through: I said someone from the firm, since they don’t know anyone, and because my mystery boyfriend is a lawyer, they weren’t surprised when he was busy all the time and couldn’t come to anything. Plus, since it was someone from work, I could say that we had to keep everything quiet because I told them dating wasn’t allowed. Everything was perfect, actually.” 

Jihoon can almost see your logic. Almost. “Why me?” 

You’re quiet for a long moment, staring at your closed laptop. “They wanted a name, and yours was the first I thought of, and then the lie just sort of took on a life of its own.” You have the audacity to smile. “Did you know that you’ve been in love with me since elementary school?” 

Jihoon scoffs. “There’s no way they believed that.” 

“You’d be surprised,” you say, smiling fondly. It vanishes when you meet his glare. 

More than anything, Jihoon is confused, but the one thing he is sure about is that he doesn’t want anyone walking around thinking he’s dating someone that he isn’t, especially not when that someone is you.

 He can’t think of anyone more different than him, and your office is testament to that, filled with all sorts of knick knacks and brightly colored pillows, mugs from around the world strategically spread around your bookshelves, which hold a combination of books on law as well as classic novels and collections of stories. He remembers that before you went to law school, you majored in English. Pride and Prejudice sits in between a copy of War and Peace, with a bright red glass ornament keeping them upright. 

He thinks about his own office. His only decorations were at the insistence of Seungkwan and Seungcheol: a plant that Jihoon was actively trying to kill (and starting to suspect is fake), a set of colorful highlighters that he would never use that Seungcheol said “lightened the room,” and a framed photograph of all of his friends at Seungkwan’s graduation. The last piece, a gift from Seungcheol, is the only one he will admit he doesn’t mind having in his office, but he could live without everything. He doesn’t know how you manage to work with so much going on in your office. 

But the biggest difference between the two of you, Jihoon realizes, comes from a fundamentally different understanding of the world: while you seem to find love in everything (and everyone), Jihoon simply doesn’t believe it exists.

if you would like to know when the first chapter drops, just send an ask <3

[chibrary]

“Brrrrrr!” says Charles Leclerc, on a chilly late afternoon in a São Paulo that’s enveloped in grey and pendulous cloud.

Cruelly denied a coat by our photographer, Charles hastens from the back of the Sauber garage to the welcoming environs of the team unit as soon as his duties are concluded. Glenn, our snapper, replaces a lens cap and shakes his head ruefully. “You can’t treat ‘em like kids,” he says. “Otherwise it starts with you letting them wear a coat and ends with you having to take all the blue M&MS out of the bowl…”

Perhaps in some cases, but Charles Leclerc is emphatically not cut from junior diva cloth. Though F1 starwrangler Nicolas Todt has steered his career, Leclerc’s talent and singular determination has provided the momentum. There is not a hint of the silver spoon about his rise to prominence, and that comes across in the respectful politesse with which he unfailingly conducts himself.

Now seated and beginning to thaw, Charles holds the question deck between finger and thumb and regards it with genuine surprise. “All these are from fans?” he asks, agog at how an F1 rookie could possibly generate so much interest.

Well, there’s a reason for that… [...]

source: gp racing (uk) series: 2018, f1

What does the underside of Alonso's car look like? David Foulston, UK CL: The underside? What's the underside? [The penny drops] Ah! Yes, when he went flying over me [at the start of the Belgian Grand Prix]. I tell you, it happened so fast that I could barely see anything. I certainly wasn't going to analyse it [technically]. It was definitely black, but that's the only thing I can say.

F1 Racing: Surely, given their relative position in the championship, Sauber don't have much to learn from Mclaren at the moment any- way… CL: Ah… [He glances in the direction of team PR Mia, who responds in startled fashion to F1R'S cheeky query. Charles giggles, though whether this is at the question or its effect on his colleague is un- clear]

In your company car, have you beaten the best commute times from Monaco to Modena set by Gilles Villeneuve and Jody Scheckter? Phil Darby, UK CL: [Laughs again] Errrrr… no! I'm not so quick on the road. F1R: In your position, you need to be responsible. CL: Definitely.

F1R: Were you aware there was a record each of them tried to break? CL: To get to the grand prix? F1R: To get to the Ferrari factory when Enzo rang up. They'd say, "Okay, be there in five minutes…" CL: [Laughs] For sure, I could never get to the factory that quickly. I'm not really racing on the road.

Is there any circuit you would love to see added to the F1 calendar? Matt Lloyd, UK CL: Laguna Seca. Even though it's very… yeah, I don't think F1 could go there in reality.

F1R: The run-off at the Corkscrew isn't very wide, and there's a cliff on the other side.

CL: Yeah? That would make it more, er, challenging… F1R: According to folklore, the corner is how it is because they were driving the bulldozer along, got to the edge of the drop, and then just turned left. CL: Nice story. But is it true?

What is your biggest fear? Severine Covens, UK

CL: Oh, snakes. F1R: Is it the creepy dryness of the scales, or their rasping forked tongues that creep you out? CL: I don't really know - I'm just not liking these animals. F1R: Have you ever actually encountered a snake? CL: I did, in Australia. Haven't you seen the pictures? I have it all round my neck. [He shudders at the memory] You'll have to ask the Sauber people why they did it…

What was the first car you drove? Kamil Zaotkowski, Poland CL: I really shouldn't say, because I was quite young!

What is your favourite childhood memory with Jules Bianchi? Chloe Hewitt, UK CL: Probably every Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday at his track. [Jules Bianchi's father managed the kart circuit at Brignoles] That and his birthdays in Saint-tropez. All the races we did together in karting. Fun times. F1R: Did you get to go to his party after he finished in the points in the Monaco Grand Prix? CL: No, I was too young, and in Monaco they're quite strict with things like that.

[arcadekitten]

If you had an unlimited budget what kind of merch would you want to make?

Oh MAN if I could do like, anything...

Hold on I'm about to get really self-indulgent

-I would love to make plushies, most definitely! They'd have chibi-esque faces to match their chibi proportions, and maybe even some would come with special accessories (like detachable glasses and hair accessories)

-I would make official cosplays! I don't think I ever really see official merch stores do that but man it would be cool! Luckily I feel like many of my characters are pretty easy to piece cosplays together for already, but being able to supply clothes that were accurate for the stuff you wouldn't be able to find otherwise would be cool!

-I would make figures. But not just figures! Figure sets! I remember my friend once told me about a dream he had where my characters had blindboxes, and he got a Reggie and a Twyla from a sleepover set and a Mary from a picnic set! While I don't think I'd want them to be blindboxes(because I'd hate making people feel like they'd have to gamble!) I would love to have little mini-figurine sets like that!

-An official card set. They'd be a lot like Hyllindrix's cards from Blackout Hospital, but using my characters for the different numbers and suits etc! (The four aces would definitely be Mary, Reggie, Vasilis, and Hyllindrix himself! Or maybe Hyllindrix would be better as the joker card haha?)

-Calenders!! I have always dreamed of making a calendar and I'd have a special illustration to match each month!

That's all I can think of right now haha! I know it's very unlikely I'd be able to do a lot of these if any, but a girl can dream! ♡

[umgeorge]

We Sat Down With George Russell Ahead Of Grand Prix Weekend

Nothing beats the buzz you'll find in Melbourne ahead of Grand Prix weekend, but the energy in the room with George Russell-British racer who steers the mighty W15 for Mercedes-AMG Petronas F1 Team-is nothing but relaxed. His green room is a cocoon of calm in an otherwise chaotic weekend of press, brand obligations, training, and, of course, actually driving the damn car come lights out on Sunday. Greeted with a cool fist bump ("You alright, mate?"), George parks himself across from me ahead of his appearance at the IWC Chadstone boutique that same evening. Smiles on, eyes attentive, and, of course, with his timepiece in full view of the cameras, we get straight into it with the man who's always on the clock, be it his own, the FIA's, or someone else's.

John McMahon: "George, give us your favourite moment from last season. If you had to pick just one." George: "Crossing the line in Abu Dhabi to secure P2 for the team in the championship, for sure. There was such a tight battle with Ferrari for a number of races and when we went into that race it was sort of me and Charles battling it out, then suddenly, Perez came through quick and he had the five second penalty and it went down to half a second. That was the difference between us finishing second in the championship or third in the championship, and that's 2,000 peoples' bonuses back at the factory, as well. So that was a relief to secure that result for the team."

JM: "What about the off-season? Favourite moment? Do you ever feel like you really switch off?" George: "I would say I managed to switch off for about a week during the off-season, which is pretty good, but I've always got racing on my mind and I'm always dropping my engineers messages and phone calls just with ideas I have of how we can improve. But I think my favourite moment was just seeing my niece and nephew. My sister had a child, as well, in the off-season, so that was a special moment. But just doing normal stuff, being a normal person is what I like the most."

JM: "So you wore a few different watches from IWC last year, but it looks like the one you wore the most was the Ceratanium Top Gun Double Chrono." George: "Yeah, that's my favourite by far. I love it because, when I joined Mercedes as a junior driver, that was the watch that I said I wanted, and when my first IWC arrived from the team it wasn't that watch. [laughs] And it was only three years later that I managed to actually get my hands on that watch when I could afford it and I was actually a part of the Mercedes team, so it means something to me. I think it just looks really, really cool, doesn't it? It's not too out there but it's got quite a sporty look to it, so you can wear it daily. It's my go-to."

JM: "If you had to pick a watch for traveling, a watch for the paddock, a watch for date night… where would you land?" George: "Hmm, for the paddock... Probably what I'm wearing currently, the new Mercedes team watch, the Performance Chronograph from IWC. It's similar to the Top Gun in terms of the colour and the style, but the Petronas green details add a layer of depth, so that would definitely be my paddock watch. Date night, probably the Portugieser Annual Calendar. Keep it classy." JM: "And travel?" George: "I really like the-I can never pronounce it as gracefully as the Swiss-Ingenieur. It's light, easy on the wrist, and fits under a cuff as well. For travelling you never want anything too bulky."

JM: "Last year you did probably one of my all-time bucket list experiences. You embraced the Top Gun ethos in a RAF Typhoon fighter jet. It's probably the only career that's faster than an F1 car. Did it ever appeal to you, that career?" George: "It never appealed to me, but since having the experience of… Well, firstly, I just thought I was going to be a passenger. I didn't know at the time they were going to let me fly, and getting the chance to actually fly it myself, I mean, experience of a lifetime, and would really love to get back up there, because it is like a Formula 1 car up in the skies." JM: "There are a lot of parallels, aren't there?" George: "It's so agile and quick. You've got the joystick in front of you, you just move it and the thing just rolls over instantly. It's the same with an F1 car, when you're traveling, you know, 330 km/h down the straight, you turn into the corner and you zoom immediately to the other side of the track. You're in the cockpit in both respects, but the team is like such a massive part of making that operation actually happen. There's so much camaraderie between everybody. It was like a family away from home as it is for us in Formula 1. Awesome experience, so yeah, a lot of respect for what they're doing."

JM: "The inverse of that: What's the most boring thing about being an F1 driver? You can say interviews like these, I won't be offended." George: "What do you think is the most boring thing about being an F1 driver?" JM: "Probably interviews like these, no? Being pulled left, right and centre the whole time. How about time on a plane?" George: "I want to do the numbers, but I reckon over the course of a year we would spend closing in on I'd go as far as almost a whole month on a plane. All of the flights within Europe alone, I'm doing probably five flights a week on average. There are 4,000 people who travel the world for Formula 1, and it's a very luxurious lifestyle on the face of it, but a lot of time away from home, away from loved ones, a lot of time zone shifts, brutal on the body, but you know we wouldn't change it for the world because we love what we do. It's the best job in the world."

JM: "Let's talk Vegas. It didn't go quite according to plan for you last year, but was such a momentous occasion for the sport and to be under the lights. Talk us through that first time you drove the car down that strip." George: "It was fast and bumpy, one hell of a ride. On the face of it the circuit seemed pretty underwhelming, but when we drove it, it had a huge amount of character. It was great for racing and it was very challenging to drive; really low grip. We were the only category racing, so the track was very green and dusty, so for drivers it was a unique challenge. I think in the race we were doing about 350 km/h. It was very difficult to spot the breaking points 120 metres out. When you're racing in the dark, you've got the buildings between you, all the lights at such wild speeds, it was surreal."

JM: "Aside from the obvious, do you have a personal goal for 2024 that gives us some sort of insight into the man that is George Russell? It could be getting better at Spanish on Duolingo…" George: [laughs] "My girlfriend would love that. No, just to enjoy the journey. I think it's so easy to get caught up in the competitive nature of the sport and the emotional rollercoaster that you go through, the highs and the lows. It's a psychological toll on the body, so you need to turn that into good energy and positivity, happiness, and that's what I'm gonna try and do a bit more of in 2024. We've all got this one life and you just need to maximise it and the days fly by."

JM: "On that same thought then, you've got the likes of Fernando, who we wouldn't be surprised if he's still racing when he’s fifty, and then you've got Nico, who's out on top after taking the championship. Are you a race until the body says no, kind of guy?" George: "I'll be here for a long time. I don't know what I'd do without it, to be honest. I'm not one of these guys who has all of these interests outside the sport. Some people need their passions outside to disconnect as a way of enhancing their performance on the track, and I respect that. For me, my life is racing. But I'm far from achieving what I set out to and believe I'm capable of. The seasons are becoming intense, very intense, and increasingly more challenging with the number of races. I'm fit and healthy and young at the moment, and I'm dealing with it absolutely fine, but I want to make sure that in ten years' time, when I'm 35, that I can deal with a 24 race calendar and I'm still fit and I'm still performing on the top of my game."

JM: "When you get off the plane here in Melbourne, what excites you most about the weekend ahead?" George: "Those first laps and the first practice. That's always a really exciting moment because you head into a race weekend with the unknown. We have an indication of what this weekend's going to bring. We're pretty confident a Red Bull is going to be at the sharp end of the grid. We don't know if we're going to be up there fighting with them, if we're going to be on the back foot, if the car's going to be performing well, if I'm going to be performing well, and those you get an indication after about three laps on track of how your weekend's gonna pan out and it's always a really exciting moment, the unknown. I just can't wait to jump into that car again."