#since like ? 2014 on and off ? damn

[peepingwizard]

this man was a mad scientist in the woods in the 1970's, ofc he smoked like a chimney.

full sketch page beneath cut

[19871997]

.

[hottpinkpenguin]

Letting Someone Go - Part 2

Benny Cross X Female Reader A/n: part 1 is here! Word Count: 2014 Warnings: cursing, alcohol use Taglist: @real-lana-del-rey @putherup

Fifteen months. That was all it took for you to find Benny, love him, and lose him. The easy version of your story went like this: it was Kathy Bauer’s fault. Simple as pie, like your mama used to say. 

The truth was a lot different. The truth was messy and it hurt a hell of a lot more. Because the truth was that you hadn’t lost Benny at all. To lose something, you have to have it in the first place. And when you were being really honest with yourself, you knew that you never had Benny Cross. You had as much of a claim to him as a kite does to the wind. That was to say, none at all. 

You didn’t like the truth. But, you weren’t the kind of girl who could live a lie either. So, you did the only thing you could think of: you ran away. Kathy Bauer’s first night in the Vandals bar was early November, Benny broke it off with you in early December. You spent Christmas drunk and stoned. And by New Years, you were gone. 

You thought putting Chicago - and Benny - in the rearview mirror would help. You’d banked on it helping. Running was your only plan. There wasn’t any other choice, really. Sure, some of the Vandals had pitched you on sticking around, club president Johnny among them. Your waitressing pal Sheila had asked you to move in with her, given that you were now two months’ behind on rent without Benny’s side-hustle cash around to help pay the bills. Hell, Cal had even offered you a soft place to land on the left side of his queen sized mattress. 

None of those offers had tempted you for even an instant. So, while the rest of America was counting down the final seconds of 1965 from their couches, you were sitting on the back of your fully customized Sportster, driving like a bat out of hell on the back roads leading west out of Chicago. Your only destination was the fuck out of here. 

It took you fifteen months to figure out what love was and to lose it again. You weren’t sure how long it was going to take you to do something approximating move on, but you figured it would be a lot longer than fifteen months. And you were right.

***********************

Your phone rang at 3:13am in the morning on September 19th, 1969. The first thing you thought was that your daddy must have finally died. Sonofabitch had been fighting a chainsmoker’s strain of lung cancer for almost six months now, and damn had it been a hard fight. Your mama had actually begged you not to come home and see him. Nothin’ you can do here, baby she said in her soft, sad voice each time you called and asked if you should come home. Your daddy, for his part, couldn’t talk anymore, on account of the laryngectomy the doctors gave him a few weeks prior. He’d declined one of those robotic voice boxes. Figured he’d said all he needed to at this point. Nobody wanted to hear the ramblings of an old biker on death’s door at this point. Especially himself.

But it wasn’t your mama’s voice on the other end. It was Johnny Davis.

“Hey, kid.” Not a question, not a hey, how are ya. It had been almost four years since the last time you’d talked to Johnny. Four years since you’d last seen a Vandals cutte. You wished you could say it had been that long since you’d thought about the club, but that would be a damn lie. Your mind drifted back to a certain handsome blonde-haired blue-eyed biker almost every day. 

It took you a minute to place the voice on the other end. It was familiar in the way a dream is familiar, but between the fog of leftover whiskey, a deep sleep, and buried memories, it didn’t come to you quickly.

“Who’s this?” you asked, wiping the tired out of your eyes.

“Oh, uh, well. It’s Johnny.” 

There it was.

“Johnny? Johnny Davis?”

“Yeah, yeah it’s me, kid. Listen. How you been?”

You couldn’t help but let out a short, sad chuckle. The easy answer to that question was oh, I been alright Johnny, you? But the truth was something more like, well Johnny, let’s see, since I last saw you in Chicago I’ve been on the road pretty much constantly for four years, running for so long I can’t tell if I’m running to or away from something, much less what that thing is. I’ve picked up about a dozen bad habits, like drinking too much and riding too fast and going home with the first guy who’ll buy me a brew at a bar. Oh, and by the way, my daddy’s dying. 

But Johnny didn’t deserve your bitterness. Especially not at 3:14 in the morning. 

“You know me, Johnny, I’ve been doin’ just fine. Why’re you callin’ so early?”

There was a heavy silence on the other end of the line. An image of Johnny, taking a deep drag on one of those Pall Malls he loved to smoke, came to you in the darkness. In the quiet of his reply, you heard a dense grief. You braced yourself for what you were sure was bad news and flicked on the bedside lamp on your nightstand. Next to you, the latest biker boy of the week stirred grumpily and waved at you to turn the light off. You ignored him, throwing off the covers and dangling your feet over the side of your mattress.

“Well, kid. It’s Brucie.”

Brucie. It took the air out of your lungs. You could have named a half-dozen Vandals you’d expect to kick the bucket before Brucie. Zipco, Wahoo, Corky. Hell, even Johnny himself. And Benny, of course. You couldn’t help but feel the knot in your chest relax an inch to know that Johnny wasn’t calling to tell you that it was Benny. But damnitall, Brucie? Careful, pragmatic, thoughtful Brucie? What the fuck was Gail gonna do?

“Brucie? What the fuck happened?”

Another jagged inhale on the other end. Johnny was crying, you realized. It gutted you.

“Oh, you know. 1967 Pontiac came outta nowhere, you know, just caught him in a bad way. It’s always the ones you don’t see comin’, y’know? Fuckin’ Pontiac.”

“Jesus, Johnny. Brucie? Shit.”

You lit a cigarette of your own as you let your mind wander back to your time in Chicago. Brucie was solid, Johnny’s right-hand man and a kind, gentle sorta guy. You’d liked him instantly, and Gail too. Real good folk. 

“Yeah, yeah, it’s been hard, y’know, I mean, club is real beat up over it.”

“Fuck, Johnny, I don’t even know whatta say. I’m so sorry.”

You and Johnny took matching drags and tried to swipe away your tears. The guy in your bed next to you rolled over and fixed you with a bleary-eyed glare. You couldn’t remember his name - Steve, maybe. You covered the receiver with your hand, told  him to get the fuck out, and drank down the last swallow of whiskey in the only upright glass on your nightstand.

“Yeah, well, I ‘preciate that, kid, I really do. Listen, we’re havin’ a get together for Brucie. Next weekend. Entire club, all charters gonna be there. Invited a few others, too. Ones that knew Brucie. I know he’d want you there.”

Of all the things Johnny had said to you tonight, this was the one that stole the air from your lungs. Go back to Chicago, to the Vandals? You weren’t sure how you’d do that. Or if you physically could. 

“Aw, shit Johnny. I dunno…”

“I know you got history here,” Johnny interrupted quickly. “I know you got… I know you got a lot you’re tryin’ not to come back to. I get it.” 

Lots of people might have tried to tell you they understood how you felt. You’d opened up about Benny to a few people since you’d left Chicago. Most people you met on the road were a little bit broken, like you. They were running, just like you, and they weren’t strangers to heartbreak and dead-endings and being fucked over. But, no matter how many times you tried to tell your story, you just never felt like you got it right. So nobody really understood it, because you weren’t sure you did. But Johnny? Johnny didn’t need to hear you tell it. He’d watched it happen. Maybe he really did get it.

Still, was that enough for you to go back? Unsure of what to say, you just stayed silent. Behind you, maybe-Steve was dragging himself out of bed, untangling his clothes from yours, and doing a shitty job of trying to stay quiet. 

“You think about it, aight? But I know you’ll come. For Brucie.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. Johnny was right. ‘Course you’d go back for Brucie. 

“Aight well, I’ll let ya go then. Sorry for wakin’ you up.”

“Johnny, wait.” 

He hesitated. “Yeah, kid?”

“How’d you get my number?” 

There were about a million questions you wanted to ask Johnny, although you knew yourself enough at this point to know that you wouldn’t want the answers. So you asked the safest one you could think of.

He chuckled softly. “I keep an eye on my friends,” he replied cryptically before he said goodnight again, and the line went dead. You wished you knew what that meant, although just knowing that there was someone out there in the darkness who cared for you enough to go to the trouble of checking in with whatever backwater charters you shacked up with (because realistically that was the only way Johnny would ever be able to keep up with you) made your heart warm. 

“Who the fuck was that?” demanded maybe-Steve. He was halfway out the door of the dingy room you’d rented in this roadside motel, hoping you might still ask him to stay. 

“Old friend,” you said brusquely as you stood up and threw an old tshirt over your bare chest, heading for the door behind him. “Time for you to hit the road,” you told him by way of invitation, pointing towards his bike in the parking lot. 

“It’s fuckin’ 3:30 in the mornin’, you sure I can’t just sleep it off here?” 

“Nah, fuck that. Get lost.” 

He grimaced and spat thickly on the ground. For an instant you wondered if he was going to give you trouble, but he just shook his head in disgust and left you there to curl up on the rickety plastic chair outside your motel room with plans to chain-smoke until sunrise. You watched him go, his tail light streaking across the long, dark, flat expanse of Iowa farmland until it melted with blackness around it. Your mind was fluttering with all kinds of memories and thoughts that Johnny’s voice had stirred up. Rather than try and fight it, you let yourself sink beneath the surface and zone out, wading through a chapter of your life that you’d deluded yourself into believing was over. The sun had climbed up over the horizon by the time you came back to yourself with a bleak glance around the ramshackle motel. Your Sportster was gleaming like a lighthouse over in the corner of the lot under the only tree around for miles, a huge black walnut that seemed to be holding up its branches and asking the sky to sweep it up and take it away from here. Exactly how you felt. 

Unable to fight against yourself anymore, you splashed cold water on your face, tied your hair up, shoved your belongings into the leather saddlebags you’d been living out of for the last four years, and got on the back of your Sportster. As soon as you kickstarted your bike, you knew where you were going. Straight back to Chicago, back to the Vandals, to Benny. Straight back home.

read part 3 here **let me know if you want to be tagged in future parts!

[maxarchive]

MAX-IMUM ATTACK 2017 Season Photos and words by Darren Heath

Monday lunchtime, Heathrow Terminal 5. Standing next to the slowly revolving baggage carousel, a fresh-faced, slightly awkward-looking - just out of his teens - young man is awaiting the arrival of his chattels.

Dressed in bland black trainers, similarly hued skinny jeans and an oversized hoody, this Young Turk ain’t winning any style awards. iPhone in hand, he’s busy swiping the screen in that head-bowed social media style billions of us now ‘enjoy’.

Max Verstappen doesn’t really do flash. He couldn’t look more ‘normal’. Yet put him in a racing car and he’s just about the most special talent to arrive on motor racing’s top step for decades.

Schumacher-esque – Michael of course! – is a term increasingly heard up and down the F1 paddock, such is the impact the Netherlands’ premier sportsman is now making.

I can see it too.

The fresh-faced 16-year-old boy who was, upon his arrival, so ignorantly dismissed by many within the sport is rapidly becoming a man. It’s amazing how quickly young sportsmen living life in the public gaze assume adulthood. Just take a look at Sebastian Vettel. The gawky kid of 2009 became the handsome dude of 2010!

What sets the potentially great apart from the mediocre? What makes Max Verstappen so, so much more special than, say, Carlos Sainz?

I guess it’s the whole package: the look; the mien; the steely character honed to be a racer almost from before he could walk; the utterly uncompromising way he dismisses any questioning of his racecraft; the toys-out-of-the-pram reaction to harsh penalties; the fast straight-out-of-the-box attacking style; and the rapier-like overtaking ability, the like of which we haven’t seen for many a year. Such was Max’s impact on the art of passing and defending, the rules had to be rewritten!

The way the car looks through the turns, the application of throttle, steering and immensely late braking. Metronomic in his blisteringly fast lap time delivery, this boy has the lot. He IS the future of Formula 1.

In so, so many ways – but let’s hope not all – Max is the new MSC.

Racing in an aggressive and forceful style often results in on-track contretemps with some of his more seasoned rivals. No matter, Max takes no prisoners, batting away questions about the legality of some of his racing moves with a dismissive arrogance that’s strangely appealing in its delivery.

Up to speed now and surely making Dan Ricciardo question his team-leading abilities, Verstappen is unquestionably Red Bull’s main man.

Off-track too, Max is sorted. Guided by his F1-experienced father, the young Verstappen has an able and well-qualified navigator at the helm. Learning from his own ill-advised 1990s F1 driving career decisions, Jos pays absolute attention so as to ensure his son maximises the opportunities on offer.

With top-drawer drivers in short supply, Red Bull had better make damned sure their 2019-and-beyond engine supply is top-notch. The bidding war for Max’s signature is already in full swing. Ferrari and Mercedes are enviously eyeing the Dutchman’s abilities with covetous desire.

It’s easy to forget that Max is only 20 years old. Way ahead in racing driver maturity - a relative term! – than so many millions of a similar age, Max has appeared mentally developed beyond his years since first he appeared in the F1 paddock at Spa 2014. It struck me then how entirely capable this 16-year-old boy was dealing with multiple language questions and untold camera lenses. Listening to his interrogator politely before answering calmly and intelligently, Max appeared born to the role…

Fast forward to now and Verstappen is a multiple grand prix winner and 2018 title-chasing challenger. Part of the new breed of F1 racers, Max leads the pack. Publicly respectful of his rivals, although privately dismissive of many, he well knows his place among the potentially great.

Michael Schumacher once opined – in an interview I photographed – that his father had advised him to heed well the arrival on the scene of the next great talent. The one who’d challenge and quickly replace the dominant male. Well, Lewis, Sebastian and Fernando, that man has arrived.

You’d best heed Herr Schumacher’s words well…

[sim0nril3y]

Push and Pull - Part 2

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Civilian!Reader Scenario: Simon just can't seem to get you off his mind following the abrupt end to 'Push and Pull' Note: Set in 2014 Warnings: No mask Simon (It's my personal headcanon in his regular life he probably wouldn't wear it), mild angst, reconnection, joking about kidnapping a dog, Simon being his usual guarded self, canon-typical swearing

It had been a long couple weeks since your last interaction with Simon. In your head you understood that you were being a little sensitive that he hadn’t wanted something more with you, but there was another part of you that couldn’t help but feel used… You wondered, if he hadn’t wanted anything more serious then why had he strung you along so romantically? If he wanted sex and intimacy then why be so adverse to it in the beginning? Why not just sleep with you that first night and keep all emotions out of it?

“So, what happened to that bloke you were seeing?” Your friends voice broke through your fuzzy mind. It was a moving out party for one of her colleagues that was heading North. It wasn’t like you had even wanted to be here anyway, but she had convinced you it would be a good time with a bunch of booze – that promise was enough to get you into a nice dress and off your sofa watching re-runs of ‘Come Dine with Me’. “You seemed really into him…”

Yeah, you had been really into him, but… it clearly wasn’t meant to be. “Yeah. I think we were just both looking for different things.” You really didn’t need to spell it out for her to understand. An almost sympathetic look pulled across her face before she clinked her beer bottle against your own. “His loss, babe. I’ll go get us another couple of drinks.”

It was part hurt and part relief that there had been no communication within the past couple of weeks. He really hadn’t meant to make you feel like he was just using you, but maybe this way you might be able to move on and find someone that would be able to give you more than he was able to. Simon really hadn’t the thought of you being with someone else. He hated thinking about you teasing and laughing with them. He hated thinking about you on your knees for them. He hated thinking about your mind being consumed by them. It was for the best. Deep down he knew that he wasn’t built for love or affection. No, everything around him was death and destruction and he’d be damned if he was going to inflict that on you too.

As he sat watching the football highlights his eyes caught a glimmer of something beneath the coffee table. Leaning down he plucked up the small piece of jewellery in his hands and inspected it. He recognised this ring, it belonged to you. Just put it back. Fuckin’ throw it out. It’s junk jewellery. Even with his cruel inner monologue trying to warn him off Simon still rang your number. It rang and rang and rang. For a moment he thought that maybe you weren’t going to answer.

“H-hold on-” Your voice came down the line. There was mixture of music and voice down the speakers that told Simon you were out at the moment. Of course, you were… “Hello?” You asked as you finally got to place that gave you a little bit of peace. “I have something that belongs to you…”

There was a beat of silence before you muttered back. “You sound like a supervillain.” You should have been angry with him, but there was humour that laced your voice. “Do you have my dog or something?” Simon begrudged himself as he laughed lowly before responding. “Bloody hell, you really must think I’m a monster if you think I’ve kidnapped your dog…” It was just so easy to have this banter with you, like no time had passed at all, or there hadn’t been any hurt between you.

“Well, I’ll be a little concerned because I don’t actually have a dog…” You responded with a small laugh and he groaned as he covered his face with his hand. “Why would you be worried that I’d kidnap your dog if you don’t have one?” Trying to figure out your brain was like trying to solve a very intricate puzzle, but the moment your laughter lilted down the line Simon found himself smiling. He’d missed it. He’d missed you. “It’s actually a ring I found… it doesn’t seem my style so it must belong to you.” He mentioned observing the small band in his fingers.

For a moment you were quiet before stating. “It might belong to one of the other girls you’ve brought back to your flat…” There was jealousy linger there, along with hurt that hurt his heart. “I don’t bring other girls back to my flat.” Only you, he wanted to add but the words never formed in his mouth. “Do you think… can I bring it to you?” He questioned with a crease forming in his brow. There was a part of you that had wanted to deny him, but… another part… a more needy and affection part spoke first and louder. “I’m at a party… but sure. I’ll send you the address.” He could hear the way that you attempted to be nonchalant but there was there affection there.

It didn’t take long for Simon to leave once she sent him the address and honestly it wasn’t hard to find the house as he drove down the road. Each other house was quiet, curtains closed and dead to the world, but the one he pulled up outside of was lively, music pumping from inside and people filtering in and out. By the brick fence his eyes spotted you, lingered there looking at your phone as if you were trying to keep yourself busy, or at least look as if you were for when he arrived.

Climbing from his car he approached and you glanced up. “That didn’t take long…” You noted and then looked him up and down. “So, do you have my ring, or…” “Bollocks. I left it in the car…” He cursed softly. “Do you wanna come get it?” He asked and you eyed him suspiciously before wandering over and climbing into the passenger seat. Just like you imagined his car was just as organised as his house, there wasn’t an item out of place and it smelt like fresh pine. He climbed into the driver’s seat beside you and collected the ring from the centre console and placed it into your open hand.

“Thanks…” You hummed quietly twirling it around your fingers before sliding it on, the whole time keeping your eyes trained on it. “I think I owe you an apology…” Simon began and you looked at him. “Don’t be silly. We were just having fun, right?” He saw the way your smile pulled into a fake smile, trying to act easy-going but he saw through it right away. “Listen, I still don’t think I have a good answer for your question… what were we doing? Fuck knows, all I knew was that… that you…” He looked direction at you, intense eyes setting you completely still. “You have pushed me and challenged me and fucking terrified me more than anyone has for…” He really had to think. “Forever.”

“I’ve never known anyone like you.” He mentioned rubbing his face softly. “Is that a bad thing?” You asked then a look of concern set on your face. “No… No, it isn’t… I’m just… trying to figure out how to deal with all this.” He frowned. “This isn’t easy for me and I know that me being like this doesn’t make it easy for you either…”

A frown set on your face, twirling your ring again slowly before looking at him. “I told you from the beginning at your pace…” Then looking at him. “I just wanted something… just a little something to try and tell me I was on the right path… or that I hadn’t ruined everything…” Reaching across Simon took your hand, squeezing it so gently. “You didn’t ruin anything.” Then bringing your hand to his mouth to kiss your knuckles sweetly. “I wanna take you out again… if you’ll let me…”

There was a beat of silence between you both then and Simon wondered for a moment if maybe you’d decline. “Okay…” You said, softly and sweetly before tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Okay.” He responded with a small smile finding his lips. “I won’t fuck this up.” “You won’t.” You agreed softly as he brought your hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles.

Masterlist | Ask | 03-09-2023

[glitterquadricorn]

good 4 u - f1 grid

+summary: y/n williams, granddaughter of Frank Williams, has had enough of being overlooked and screwed over by her own team. +pairing: f1 grid x driver!williams!reader +warnings: angst-ish, mentions being screwed over, curse words, poorly edited. If I missed something, let me know. I do not give my permission to have my work reposted. I do not give my permission to have my work translated. If I'm notified that you've stolen my work or claim it as your own, you'll be asked to take it down before I'll report you. End of discussion.

liked by FranColapinto, hater1, hater2, and 1,239,563 others

williamsracing Franco Colapinto to race for the remainder of the 2024 season.

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FranColapinto Thank you for this opportunity! liked by williamsracing

hater1 the best decision Williams ever made!

hater2 good riddance

user1 NOOOO!! I was only going to Monza for y/n. ⤷yourinstagram don't let my misfortunes stop you from going. have fun and create good memories, yeah? ⤷user1 you actually replied 💀

user2 something about this doesn't feel right. ⤷yourinstagram you'd be right because they didn't even tell me I was being replaced. ⤷user2 they didn't have the decency to tell you? brooo that's low even for them.

When walking down the paddock several people of the media followed her, asking question after question about the recent news of Williams replacing her mid-season with f2 rookie, Franco Colapinto. She wouldn't have been as mad as she is right now if they had simply told her that the Dutch GP would be her last, but the fact that she found out via social media post filled her with undeniable rage.

"Where's James?" She shouted, stepping into the Williams garage. The sheer volume of her voice caused the pit crews of both drivers to jump. They weren't used to this level of anger from her. "Is someone going to tell me where that piece of shit is, or am I going to kick down doors until I find him?"

An intern from the back of the garage (the one that posted the announcement to begin with, which was a complete accident, but it's not like they'd ever own up to it in fear of repercussions), stepped forward. "He's in his office-"

Y/n didn't stick around to hear anything else from the intern. She stormed through the halls, breathing heavily through her nose, her fists balled tight. Employees stepped aside trying to avoid being shoved into a wall, or even a desk since one of the pit crew guys called ahead to warn them. From behind her, those employees weren't being exactly quiet when talking about how angry she was and wondered if they should call security and have them on standby in case if anything happened.

Approaching the door to James's office, she burst in, not waiting for a response from him.

"What the actual fuck is wrong with you?"

James sat at his desk, twirling the pen between his fingers while speaking on the phone. He looks over at her, "We'll continue this conversation later, Franco. Have a great day!" He hung up the phone, "Have a seat, y/n. It seems like we have a lot to discuss."

"I'd rather stand, thank you." There was an intense stare off between the team principal and the former driver before she moved to be in front of his desk. "Were you even planning on telling me?"

"You have to understand we needed the points-"

"Quit trying to change the subject, James and answer the damn question."

"We're eventually going to tell you."

"I find that a little hard to believe, but okay." Her eyes then glanced around the room, landing on the blown-up picture of her third-place finish in Spa. A podium that was never supposed to happen because of the condition of the car, but by the grace of mother nature and the several car pile-up near the start/finish line, she got Williams their first podium in ten years. Walking over to it, she took it down.

"What are you doing?"

"Since you're getting rid of me, I'm taking this. Oh! And the trophy I got in Spa, you know the team's first podium since 2014, I'm taking that too since you don't deserve to keep it."

"Calm down-"

"Don't tell me to calm down, James," she clinched her hands tightly around the edge of the picture, careful not to break the glass. "In Australia, my car was taken from me because Alex crashed out in qualifying at the same corner as he did the previous two- no, three seasons and I was the one punished for it? He didn't even get points, so him taking my car was pointless. Literally. My car since then has been overweight and has had parts from last year's car. I can confidently say that if Alex and I had equal machinery, then I could be at his pace and maybe even out pace him. So let me ask you this, James, did you sign me because you felt like you had to because of what my last name is and who I'm related to, or was it because I brought in big sponsorships, and you were using me for the money?"

James sat there in complete silence, staring at her. To her, his silence was telling.

She scoffed, walking over to the door. "Lovely. Absolutely lovely."

"If it makes a difference, we still believe in you."

"It doesn't and don't start lying to me, James," she paused. "All those big sponsorships I brought with me when I signed with Williams, I'm taking those with me wherever I go because I'll be damned if you and this team get to benefit off me again."

"But you'll be screwing us over!"

"Just like when you screwed me over?"

liked by lewishamilton, mercedesamgf1, f1 and 1,315,204 others.

ynisracing new car, new contract.

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mercedesamgf1 Happy to have you on board, y/n! ⤷ynisracing thanks for having me! :)

user1 she got a shiny new car, a new contract and her p3 trophy back? I just know [redacted] is off somewhere pissed. liked by ynisracing

lewishamilton I'm happy that you're the one taking my seat in 2025! I know you'll good things. ⤷ynisracing I'm going to need all the luck I can get since I got big shoes to fill.

user2 y/n as world champion in 2025. I'm calling it now.

user3 Williams is never beating the Mercedes sister team allegations.

georgerussell63 alex_albon should I be worried? ⤷alex_albon pull up a chair so I can tell you all about the glitter incident of 2024. ⤷ynisracing 🤣🤣 ⤷georgerussell63 oh god.

it's been a hot minute since I posted anything and not going to lie, it feels pretty good.

Williams racing last podium was in 2021 when George got p2 at spa, but for dramatic purposes, their last podium was in 2014 when Valtteri got p3. Just to clearing up any confusion.

Tagging:

@patzammit @mrspeacem1nusone @alexxavicry @catswag22 @eugene-emt-roe @bibissparkles @cherry-piee @khaylin27 @evie-119 @green-thots @2pagenumb @myescapefromthislife @ironmaiden1313 @lottalove4evelyn @mynameisangeloflife @newlifeforus @newlifeforus @jxnellat @loloekie @c-losur3 @czennieszn @d3kstar @reiofsuns2001 @sweate-r-weathe-r @itsjustkhaos @hiireadstuff

[t-r99]

Entangled

Oliver Aiku x reader

fuck him and his absurdly long lashes okay

Not too explicit, but meh kinda. I write smut whenever I'm bored just for shits and giggles but I've never uploaded it on tumblr. This one's pretty tame.

(embarrassing fact about me, I used to be one of the cringy teenage smut writers on wattpad back in 2014. DON'T DENY IT! Y'ALL WERE THE SAME)

warnings: smut obviously

(does it get sliiiightly angsty towards the end? idfk)

wc: 1k

There's something special about him that's just impossible to put into words. Maybe it's the two toned hair or the mismatched eyes that stick out, or maybe how handsome he looks when he smiles, or it could be his way with words that has girls swooning, but you still struggle to figure it out.

Unfortunately, you share the same friends. You accepted that the guy would occasionally be in your presence long ago.

The first thing you think when you see his face or hear his name is slut. The second thing you think is manwhore. Oliver Aiku really is one, but he truly does look good. It really is a shame. If the term eye candy is looked up it will probably include a picture of Aiku.

He looks otherworldly when his face is flushed and those mismatched eyes appear a shade darker under the dim light of the room.

You hate him, don't forget that. You hate him, but how could you ever hate those big hands that grope and caress every inch of you? How could you hate the way he groans and pants right by your ear?

Most importantly, how could you ever hate his cock?

Really, it's perfect.

Is this the first time this is happening? Nope. Are you ever going to admit that you love it? Also no.

To be fair, there's no need to. Your body is doing all the talking since your mouth is too busy at the moment.

He's fucking you like his life depends on it. Maybe it's all the alcohol he had earlier, but why do you care? He's good. Really good.

Aiku slows and leans down, muscular body caging you in. He's smirking down at you like the smug bastard he is, enjoying fucking you stupid barely an hour after you ignored his existence and told your shared friends that you would prefer not to talk to him.

He brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, mismatched eyes staring down your mouth for a few seconds, then he tugs gently and urges you to part your lips.

Aiku chuckles, low and deep. He's loves seeing you like this. "Y'want me to kiss ya, huh?"

You're warm, hot. You're melting.

Still, you will never admit it outloud. The words will never leave your lips. Instead, you force a look of disgust on your face and scoff, breathless. "I'd rather die." You pant out, turning your head to the side.

Oliver is so deep inside you, damn it. It feels amazing . . .

"Stubborn, ain'tcha, doll?" He leans closer until his lips brush against your cheek instead, his breath hot against the flushed skin. "You drive me fuck'n crazy."

He starts moving again, giving slow thrusts that almost have you whining. It's too slow. It's not enough.

He's still so deep inside you can hardly think. If only he would move and show off that brutish strength of his.

"A- Aiku . . ."

"Oh?" Aiku stops moving. He leans fully down and now his entire weight in on top of you and you welcome it by locking your legs around his waist. "What was that?"

He's being an asshole.

"I didn't catch that." Oliver smirks. The glare you're currently shooting up at him means nothing because your eyes are glossy with unshed tears and your face is flushed. "You're adorable, y'know."

His face is so close to yours, your head goes blank.

Screw it.

Your lips meet his.

Oliver rests his arms on either side of your head and pushes back just as hard, giving deep and slow thrusts. He kisses you back eagerly and swallows up your moans.

"Oliver . . ."

Finally hearing his given name roll off your tongue in a breathy whisper, Oliver finally picks up the speed.

He loves it when you whisper his name like that, your own little way of begging him to fuck you. It makes Aiku want to wrap his arms around you and never let go.

At least he can do it for a single night every now and then.

"You feel so good, doll." Oliver mumbles against your lips, head feeling light. You're squeezing him like you never want him to leave, legs wrapped tightly around his waist, holding his face gently in your hands as he kisses you hungrily.

Your hands are soft, much more delicate than his. Everything about you is. Oliver loves how smooth and soft your skin is, your lips, your touch, your voice, everything. Your warm walls feels soft around his cock that's now throbbing with need, almost aching.

"So good f'me." He breathes.

"'m close . . ." You whisper. "Oli, 'm close . . ."

"Yeah?" He bites his bottom lip. You look so fucking sexy like this, eyes teary and lips swollen from his rough kiss. "G'na cum f'me, baby?" Aiku pants desperately.

He's desperate to feel you fall apart on his cock. He just can't get enough of making you cum. Oliver gets to feel your tight little hole clamp down on and milk his cock for all he's worth, he gets to hear you cry his name for the high heavens to hear, and you always let him fill you up.

"D- Don't stop . . ." You beg him. "Don't stop, don't stop, don't stop."

Oliver buries his face in the crook if your neck where he leaves open mouthed kisses all over your smooth skin. You're tugging on his fluffy hair as he brings you ever closer, pushing at his head in a silent plea for him to get even closer, if it's possible.

It just feels so good.

Who cares that you claim to hate Oliver Aiku? He doesn't believe you, and honestly, you don't even know if you believe that anymore.

"I'm- F- Fuck," Oliver's voice falters. "'m g'na cum."

Oliver swears that he's in heaven right now.

He moans into your neck and you finally cum with a broken cry of his name, spasming around his cock and milking him dry.

"Oli . . ."

He only whines against your neck in response and shifts a bit so he can slide his arms under your back so he can hold onto you tightly.

You sigh. Maybe it's the alcohol in your system that has you relaxing and almost melting into the mattress, or maybe it's how Aiku clings to you and presses soft, lazy kisses all over your neck.

It just feels so good . . .

Sure, you hate him, but you don't hate the way he holds you like this, and tangled up together.

[hayleylatour]

Finding Peace 🕊️

Content warning-none yet, some smut soon. Future talks of pregnancy and options. (Time frame is 2021 into 2022) this is also my first fan fiction since Wattpad 2014!

Summary- Mia is a 24 year old new bookstore owner who’s best friend is dating the drummer of up and coming metal band Bad Omens Nick Foilo. Jess is known for trying to set Mia up on blind dates. What happens when Mia meets Noah Sebastian

Pairings- babydaddy!Noah Sebastian x OC (Mia)

Chapter One- Mia's pov

"Mia babes you gotta come to this party, its Halloween, plus is kinda a party for Nick's friends birthday" Jess begged me. looking at my phone screen to see her pleading pout and batting eyes. rolling my eyes I simply nod in agreement, knowing if I don't at least make an appearance I will never hear the end of it.

"I'll come but I really don't want you trying to set me up with one of Nick's friends. I'm happy being single okay Jess" I say putting the last of the coffee mugs in the cabinet. "I'm just wanting to focus on getting the hell out of the shit hole apartment and getting this damn shop done and ready for opening”

"Okay okay I promise! No trying to set you up, but can I just say these guys are HOT, babes its been forever since you've gotten laid, have a few drinks and see where the night takes you, I'm not saying you have to date or marry one of them but who knows you might really hit it off with someone" Jess continues to ramble but I lose focus on her words when I start thinking about the last time I got laid. damn its be awhile the last time was probably 6 months ago... shit she's right I need to get laid, like yesterday.

"fine. is this a costume party or can I wear normal clothes" I sigh while picking up my phone and walking to the couch to sit down.

After awhile of chatting with Jess, we hung up our daily hour long face time. deciding to get up and start getting ready for jess party. Pulling the shower curtain open I start the water, warming it while I do some quick skin care. I cant help but think about what jess said, its been so long since I've gotten laid.

"That's it, if one of these guys is as attractive as she says, you're going to fuck him, you hear don’t chicken out. have a drink, relax and blow off some steam" I blurt out looking at my reflection, pep talks never work but dammit if I was determined to make myself believe it.

after my shower I blow dry my hair and decide on a low bun before starting my makeup, keeping everything simple and clean, with a light brown dusting over my lids and a shimmery highlight in my inner corner, finishing it off with a quick winged liner. I make my way into the bedroom to throw on a pair of skinny jeans and my favorite bring me the horizon hoodie topping the look off with black vans and making my way downstairs to my car and off to Jess and Nick's house.

there's 4 cars in the driveway when I pull in, Jess and folios included. throwing my car in park I do a once over in my review mirror. as headlights shine illuminating my car, looking over I see a tall man step out and make his way up the drive. stopping he looks at me through the windshield. I've seen him in pictures before. Noah- Folios friend and band mate. dressed in tight black jeans and a while shirt topped off with a leather jacket, Noah makes his way inside the house. now or never Mia. make your move.

"Hey Noah, wait up!" I yell exiting my car and jogging up the drive. He quickly turns on his heel and smiles down at me as I reach him, Standing at least a foot taller than me. Fuck he’s taller in person. “Lead the way” He says extending his arm towards the door.

“MIA! You made it” Jess squeals detaching herself from folios side, everyone seems to stop talking and turn their attention to the screaming. “Ah I see you met Noah, happy birthday by the way.” Jess winks at me

“Hey Jess, can I talk to you for a minute” i mutter pulling her into a hug. She nods and leads us to her bedroom. Once away from the crowd i start to explain my plan to her. I’ll have a drink and hang out and be open to the idea of hooking up with someone, failing to mention Noah’s name and how when he looks at me my heart beats a little faster. Jess tells me that if it happens it happens but she thinks i need to blow off some steam and ‘what better way to do it than an orgasm?’

When we emerged from the second floor the guys are standing in the kitchen around a box of pizza. Noah has his back to me but I can see his shoulder length hair is tucked between his ears. Their laughter fills to house which makes relaxing into the evening a little easier.

“So Mia, what do you do for work exactly? Jess was telling us you worked at a bookstore.” Jolly asks leaning forward to set his bottle on the table.

“Yeah kinda, I own the shop down on 17th, ‘Ellie’s’ my grandma left it to me in her will, I’ve been renovating it since lockdown started. But now since everything is opening back up. I’m hoping to have a reopening around mid November. Fingers crossed, I’m still working on getting the last of the furniture out of storage.” I explain sitting up a little straighter.

“That’s so cool we’ll have to come see it sometime” Ruffilo says everyone chiming in with an agreement. The party goes on just as this. Sitting on the sectional till I notice it’s getting closer to midnight, I should probably head home and get some much needed sleep. Jolly and Ruffilo have already said their goodbyes, and Jess has gone to bed, leaving Noah, Folio and myself.

“Hey thank you so much for tonight, i think im gonna head out though.” I say standing from my seat. Nick and Noah stand as well.

“Yeah I need to head out to, I’ll walk with you. Tell Jess I said thank you and I’ll message you tomorrow” Noah says pulling him into a hug. “Mia you ready?”

“Uh yeah. I’m ready” I rush. Making our way down the driveway Noah suddenly stops, turning to look at him he smiles and reaches for my wrist.

“Ya know, Jess told me that you were wanting to hook up with someone tonight, and it is technically still my birthday if you want to im more than interested” he breathes pushing my back against the driver’s side door of my car.

“Your place or mine?” I whisper.

[detectivebambam]

@zerokrox-blog this got out of hand btw

How Keverejeandreil Got Together

obviously we start with Andreil. they've been together the longest. no surprise there, so that's step one

let's head over to USC. Jean and Jeremy are talking about Kevin and are a little tipsy and they end up kissing. PAUSE ✋

back to Palmetto. Andrew and Kevin are Juniors now, Neil is a Sophomore. around second semester Kevin is so damn exhausted that he falls asleep on Andrew. now they've been known to snuggle, but they definitely don't do that. Andrew realizes that his feelings for Kevin from his Freshman year never actually went away. the next day, he talks to Neil about it. Neil goes "if I was to date anyone else, it'd probably be Kevin or Jean". Andrew is like wait hold up, Jean is hot asf. so they talk about Jean and Kevin and how they want to dick them down etc. etc. FAST FORWARD.

now it's Kevin, Jean, and Andrew's Senior year. Jeremy is away on a pro team, and while they technically never started dating after the kiss (or even talked about it), Jean is still lonely. that's his partner, and while he's healed more since the beginning, he's still on edge. so Andrew, Neil, and Kevin fly Jean over to Palmetto for winter break. and, well.... stuff happens. Neil gets to watch Andrew put his mouth to work on someone else and realizes he quite likes it. Neil makes out with Kevin and Jean but doesn't go any further with them. Jean goes home.

and realizes that Jeremy wanted to surprise him and come back for winter break. whoops. Jeremy smiles and says he's glad Jean is making friends (Jean didn't tell him what they got up to), and he has to go back to the Pro team now. he says Jean don't worry I had a great time with my friends here, it's okay. but Jean is like no I'm gonna miss you, kisses him again, they fuck. back to Palmetto.

Kevi joins Andreil. now we have Kandreil. second step complete. Kevin gets a text from both Jeremy and Jean saying they have feelings for the other man. he makes a group chat, sends the screenshots of the messages, and leaves the group chat.

Jerejean get together. 3rd step complete.

NOW IT GETS FUN.

Andrew is very gay and very horny. caves at the sight of a single ab. Kevin is emotional, just came to terms with being bi, allowing himself to be attracted to men, and realizes the same thing Andrew did. all four of these men are hot as fuck. (Jean and Jereny came to the realization a long time ago. Andrew was Jeremy's first Exy crush)

and they're all on the same Olympic team (2010). and they're all rooming together. so. they start with truth or dare. then it escalates to spin the bottle. and then escalates from there. by the time they leave the Olympics, they have a group chat jokingly (?) named "The Polycule"

they're not on the same Pro teams, so yk, it's hard. they all visit Neil during his college breaks, but for the most part they're across the country from each other.

until 2012. Neil immediately signed to Andrew's team when he graduated, Jean is on Jeremy's team, Kevin is alone and feels bad. he doesn't want to transfer just for dick though. Andrew and Neil love Colorado. Jean and Jeremy realize the pro team they're on is incredibly homophobic and can't deal with it anymore. they go "fuck you, you lost your two best players" and transfer to Kevin's team. they live with Kevin because it's easier that way. Kevin has fucked them both of course, but he's not dating them in the same way he's dating Andreil. so he calls them and he's like "babes, would it be cheating if I dated these two during the season, and dated you two in the off season?"

Andrew and Neil are confused but down, so Kevin dates Jerejean in season and Andreil out of season. step 4 ✔️

2014 Olympics time. they're all 110% chill with sharing Kevin, and things are great. they fuck again, but then Jean and Andrew are like.... making out. and not because they're horny either. so they all decide they can be long distance boyfriends. step 5 complete, Keverejeandreil Polycule complete

but long distance is frustrating

UNTIL

the Utah Pro team puts a bomb ass trade offer for Kevin, Jeremy, and Jean (it's fiction i can do what I want). and because Neil and Andrew's house is right on the border of Utah and Colorado, they all move in together.

Keverejeandreil 💕

sorry this got so long

[syn4k]

What's Mianite?

Mianite was a Minecraft roleplay series started in 2014 by Tom Syndicate and Tucker II_JERIICHO_II! It had two seasons, the second of which started late in 2015 and ended in 2016, and one spinoff series called Mianitian Isles that started in pandemic-era 2020 and ended sometime in 2022 IIRC. It also featured Jordan CaptainSparklez (yep, that CaptainSparklez) and Sonja OMGItsFirefoxx.

The premise of Mianite is that there are three gods: Mianite, god of order, after whom the series is named after, Dianite, god of chaos, and Ianite, goddess of balance. Each god has a champion (or champions), a player who carries out their will on Earth. A main point of tension present in all three series was that the champions were often caught between the bonds they had with each other and their loyalty to their gods, which made for some really damn good moments in all three series.

If that sounds interesting to you, good news, you can totally jump into this blind! I recommend starting with Jordan CaptainSparklez' POV first, since he's a central figure in s1 and involved in basically all the main plot points in s2. He also edited down his livestreams (the entire series was streamed live on Twitch) into shorter episodes with only the relevant clips sticking around. You can find his s1 playlist here, his s2 playlist here, and his Isles playlist here.

Fair warning: Seasons 1 and 2 but especially 1 are very much products of the time they were made in, and while they're pretty chill, some of the jokes and references made come off as dated and off-color today. The R slur is also dropped a total of like, four times over the span of the two seasons but I thought I'd point it out anyways jic. Season 2 also handles themes of abuse, torture, and is just in general a Little Bit (very) Strange.

is it worth watching it? i don't know. i don't know you. however if you can handle the format and the longevity of it (jordan's s1 and s2 povs combined are 200 episodes long), it tells a pretty damn compelling story about how uhhh [checks notes] divinity is found in the most human of places, how morality is farther from black and white than anything you could possibly imagine, and how and why it's important to pay attention to the way people present information and what motives they may have behind not only how they share it but behind why they might share it at all. it's also a testament to how humans will always find ways to stay silly no matter how serious things get around them. and last but certainly not least mianite is the forerunner of queercoded as FUCK characters interactions etc its just So Very, in more ways than one, All The Time.

but also ive had a raging hyperfixation on it for the past several months so who knows if any of that is accurate lol

good luck and have fun, anon :]

[solefae]

THE NEW DIVA. jimmy uso

SUMMARY ── jimmy can’t keep his eyes off the new diva

It was 2014 and Monday Night RAW was electric as always in the Allstate Arena near Chicago. Backstage, Zahra was buzzing with nerves in her debut match against AJ Lee later on. As the newest signee to WWE's roster of Divas, she was determined to show all the haters doubting the biracial beauty.

Of course, having the entire locker room behind her certainly helped calm the jitters. Well, almost the entire room - as Zahra stretched in the corner warming up, she couldn't help notice a certain blue chipper Samoan's lingering gaze from across the way.

Jimmy Uso had been in the company for a couple years now tearing it up alongside his brother Jey, and Zahra had admired him from afar since her FCW days. But this was the first time they were really interacting beyond friendly hellos in passing.

Her heart fluttered when he finally sauntered over, checking out her toned physique on display in her tiny wrestling gear unabashedly. "Aye girl you look ready to kill it out there. Mind if I spot ya?" Jimmy offered in that addictive baritone, already leading her over to the weights.

"Appreciate it, could always use an extra set of eyes. Especially from a pro like you," Zahra replied coyly, laying back on the bench to start pumping out reps under his watchful gaze. His large hands guided the bar smoothly, lingering a few extra beats each time she brought it down to brush her ample chest teasingly.

"Damn you strong too, know you gon hold that gold belt one day for sure ma. And definitely got them looks to match, bet all the fellas tryna holla," Jimmy flirted smoothly in return, leaning down to murmur the compliment lowly in her ear. Zahra shivered despite the sweltering heat coursing through her veins, equal parts nerves and want now.

"Maybe. But only got eyes for one man out here if he's interested too," she shot back playfully once he helped sit her up, unable to resist brushing her fingers along his bulging arm tantalizingly. The look Jimmy gave her in return had Zahra practically melting like putty in his strong hands already.

"Guess we'll have to continue this conversation after your match shawty. Break a leg out there - I'll be watchin extra close," he promised darkly, punctuating the offer with a lingering kiss to the back of her hand that had her head spinning the rest of prep. This match was about to be way more fun than anticipated now.

Sure enough, Zahra felt Jimmy's intense gaze burning into her the entire time in the ring against AJ. She flew around that canvas like the veteran she was training to be, putting on a clinic and thrillng the packed stadium. When she locked AJ into thesubmission for the clean pin, the roar was deafening as confetti rained down celebrating the new princess of WWE officially.

After a crushing hug from all her girls backstage in congratulations, Zahra began searching the crowded hallway eagerly for Jimmy, needing that follow up chat more than ever buzzing off her high. Spotting his towering frame leaned casually outside the showers, she sauntered over confidently, heart bursting.

"So you liked what you saw out there big boy?" Zahra purred brazenly, fisting her tiny hands in his open shirt to drag him into the empty locker room teasingly. Jimmy couldn't resist cupping her supple cheeks, eyes already lidded and dark like a starving man shown an endless buffet.

"Goddamn ma you know you take my breath away. Can't stop thinkin bout gettin my hands all over that sexy lil body," he groaned hungrily, backing her into the locker to hike her leg high around his muscular hips. Zahra whimpered helplessly feeling his thick manhood straining against her throbbing core through their thin barriers, lips locking desperately.

"Then take me already daddy, been wanting you forever," she urged breathlessly, tugging his jersey over his head eagerly. Their clothing disappeared in a flurry, lips and tongues mapping out every new inch of glistening skin fervently. Jimmy lifted her with ease, sinking home between her folds in one smooth glide that had them both crying out at the sensation.

"You feel so damn good n tight on this dick, fuck!" he grunted already, setting a blissful punishing pace in and out of her quivering heat. Zahra could only sob and beg shamelessly for more, hands clawing down his sculpted back as her first orgasm approached fast and mercilessly under his skilled ministrations.

Jimmy was determined to test her stamina after that electrifying showing, pounding into her greedy pussy relentlessly against the metallic lockers. Zahra came again and again, gushing around his thick member each time with increasing intensity until Jimmy finally spilled deep inside her with an animalistic growl of completion.

Collapsing in a sweaty euphoric tangle afterwards, neither could find it in themselves to regret giving into temptation so thoroughly. "Damn ma was worth the wait," Jimmy eventually mumbled against her hair softly, pressing sweet kisses along her heaving collarbones adoringly.

Zahra only smiled dreamily, tracing the lines of his handsome face tenderly as her heart swelled bursting with joy and belonging. "This is just the beginning for us. Who knows what we'll accomplish together," she whispered back confidently, knowing in her soul their story had only just begun unfolding...

taglist aka my loves! ⇩

@kumapassion @truefant4sy

@yeaiamme2 @cody-uso

@riverina69 @shantinextdoor

@christinabae @empressdede

(lemme know if you want to be added/removed!) 🤍✨

©solefae.

[wirewitchviolet]

10 Damn Years

It's August. Today was, more specifically, August 15th. August 15th, 2024. Exactly 10 years to the day since August 15th, 2014.

If that date doesn't have any significance to you, I am really happy for you. Things got Pretty Damn Bad for a whole lot of people on that day, specifically, and for a good number of years the people making things so awful were making a huge push when it rolled around again to do something really awful to their targets again. It was marked on their calendars, and they were observing it quite religiously.

This year though? Not a damn thing. Didn't even see some pathetic failed effort to get anything off the ground. Hell, people have been telling me the queen of the TERFs finally bit off more than she could chew and has been hiding from the internet for a week. Lot of big political Ls from fascists around the world in general recently, come to think. Alex Jones was formally ordered to liquidate everything he owns to pay settlements to his victims uh... more or less on the 10th anniversary of me starting this blog I think, a couple months back. Donald Trump seems to be crashing and burning super hard and basically taking the rest of the Republican party with him. I've just got this whole mug full of nazi tears here to toast the occasion with.

I'd be having a proper little celebration tonight at the complete lack of any signs of life I'm seeing from the usual suspects on what should be a major event for them, but I'm kinda stuck just thinking about all the people who didn't live to see it. There's a lot. Just thinking about the people I personally got to know during the whole mess, there's a lot. And then there's so many more who to the best of my knowledge survived it all just fine, but had to go into hiding so thoroughly I haven't talked to them in years. And of course there's the ones who decided the only way out was to stab their friends in the back, grab a bunch of money meant to help a lot of people, and pull ladders up behind them. There's a big part of me that thinks it's about time to talk publicly about some of that awfulness, but even if I don't see any sharks in the water, today isn't the day to dump a bucket of chum, you know?

Point is, I'm both extremely relieved right now, and also mourning a lot of people. Felt like I needed to post something about it. Maybe something like this.

... and that's just a weird coincidence as I first hit post on this, isn't it.

[3-2-whump]

Purpose Lost, Then Re-gained

Hey everyone,

If you need a timely distraction from spiraling into despair (like me), here is a backstory I've been holding onto for ages. Thanks @whumped-by-glitter and @generic-whumperz for beta-reading this!

PS, there is a reference to a previous chapter that you'd might want to brush up on, if you're unfamiliar with it

TW/CW: blood, aftermath of murder, whump aftermath (I guess?), aftermath of (sports) injury, emotional whump (depression), feelings realization (bi panic)

Out, damned spot; out, I say. One, two, —why, then ’tis time to do’t. Hell is murky. Fie, my lord, fie, a soldier and afeard? What need we fear who knows it when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have had so much blood in him?

Nico scrubbed his hands once, twice, until they were pinkish-red from the effort of cleansing rather than from the blood. Yet he could still feel his boss’ warm blood sticking his palms to the dead man’s body and staining him to his bones. Outside the thin doors of the dock’s restrooms, he could hear Julio instructing Juicio Divino on where to hang up Tom’s body.

Thomas Costa’s body.

Nico thought he was going to be sick.

The door swung open and Julio leisurely sauntered up beside him, taking the sink next to him to wash the blood off his hands. They stood there in silence with nothing but the water running between them and a tension that could be cut with a knife.

Julio glanced over at Nico’s scrubbed-raw hands, frowning a little as he turned off the water to his sink. “You good there, vato?” he asked quietly.

“You know, it’s just kinda fucked, isn’t it?” Nico began, the words tumbling out of his mouth before his brain could make sense of them. “I literally just helped you murder a rapist, an enslaver, and an abuser, among other things. Yet, all I can think about is how that same rapist, enslaver, and abuser cured my depression and gave me a purpose to life again, and we literally just took his-”

Julio cut off his nervous babbling by placing a damp, clean hand on Nico’s. The other hand reached to turn off the sink, and then to turn Nico towards him. Forest green eyes looked down into hazel. Julio frowned, reaching gently to touch one of Nico’s many scrapes he got on his face. The guard flinched under the assassin’s tender touch. Julio withdrew his hand right away, and Nico surprised himself when he found he missed its absence already.

“We need to clean those too so they don’t get infected,” Julio murmured. He gently led Nico into a bathroom stall and prompted him to sit down on the toilet. He then exited for a bit, only to come back with a paper towel he was blotting with alcohol from his jacket flask.

“Um, actually, I don’t think booze is the best thing to sterilize wounds,” Nico tried to say.

Julio hushed him as he began gently dabbing Nico’s split brow with the paper towel. Nico gritted his teeth; that stuff stung. He inhaled a comforting scent on the next painful hiss. Julio smelled…nice… a bit like marijuana and gunpowder and musk, but nice all the same.

Julio worked his way down to the cut below Nico’s left eye, staring intensely at his face in the meantime. Nico bristled under the man’s scrutiny. He wasn’t used to being touched so tenderly, not since-

2014

He was told that the torn ligament would need surgery. That he would need to go to rehab for weeks, if not months, after the fact. That he would miss the rest of the football season.

But that couldn’t be it. That wasn’t how it was supposed to go. Nico Clemenza was supposed to lead St. Drogo’s to victory this season, attract the attention of university recruiters, and be offered a full-ride to Syracuse or something like that. But here he was, at the hospital, sitting between his parents, as the doctor told him his whole future had gone up in smoke.

His father had hugged him. His mother had gently wiped his tears away. That was the first (and last) time they had touched him so tenderly in a while.

-

2015

It was the second semester of his senior year, and Nico was already so sick of people asking him what his future plans were. Even his therapist asked –well, she didn’t ask, but he could sense her concern when he couldn’t come up with an answer. Half the time he just wanted to scream that he had no plan, no future, nothing, and that everything he had pinned his hopes on since he was ten years old was gone. But the most he did was noncommittally shrug and murmur a despondent “I don’t know.”

After graduation, life became a bit of a dull gray monotony. Wake up, sulk, play video games and sulk, eat when his mother insisted he come downstairs for lunch, go to therapy, come home, sulk some more until dinnertime, and then take an hour-long shower before staying up late to sulk until he fell asleep.

Nico stared vacantly at his ceiling, letting the rotation of the fan’s blade lull him into a kind of trance. On the shelves of his bedroom were pictures of his old football team, awards from the debate club, trophies from past athletic competitions–all of them remnants of a boy he used to be. He really thought he should pack them all into a box and stuff them into his closet already, but he hadn’t even had the energy for something as simple as that.

A long-haired brunette leaned over his field of vision, waving her manicured fingernails in his face to get his attention. Her eyes, which looked much like his own, stared down at him in concern. She kept waving her hand in his face. Nico finally acknowledged his sister with a grunt. She stopped waving her hand. “Jeez, you are depressed,” she said with a frown.

“Leave me alone, Jessica,” he moaned.

He was about to turn onto his side, back facing her, when a pair of firm hands with manicured nails pinned him down onto the mattress. “It’s been a whole year now,” she stressed. Nico rolled his eyes; as if he weren’t painfully aware. “Mom and dad are worried about you,” she told him. Then, a little quieter, she admitted, “I’m worried about you.”

He pushed himself up from the Nico-sized divot he made in his bed, getting into a sitting position as he stared up at his older sister. “Yeah, well, maybe once you’ve missed your shot to do the only thing you were ever good for, then you’d be depressed too,” he sniped, though his words had no heat behind them.

Jessica sat on the bed next to her brother, bringing their gazes to the same level. “Come on, you don’t mean that, do you?” she asked. When Nico didn’t answer, she continued. “I mean, you were so much more than just football captain of St. Drogo’s, Nic-Nac! Did ‘president of the debate club’ and ‘honor roll student’ mean nothing to you?”

“Yeah, you don’t really get full-ride scholarships for being the smartest smart-ass in the room, do you?” he mumbled.

“But, you do get degrees,” Jessica argued.

And Nico knew she was right, and that with his grades, he could’ve applied to any university he’d like without a hitch. But, without any true sense of what he wanted to do with his life now, let alone what he’d want to study for four years, he figured it would’ve been a waste of everyone’s time and money for him to go to college without a plan. Surely his sister would’ve remember this; she tried to get him to apply to her college several months ago.

Speaking of which… “What are you even doing home this weekend?” he asked her, changing the subject. “It’s not a holiday, is it?” He was only vaguely aware that it was even October, thanks to the Halloween decorations at his therapist’s office.

Jessica shook her head. “Uncle Mike and the new boss are visiting, so Dad wanted me to come home to sell the whole ‘happy family’ image,” she explained.

“’Happy family’ image?” Nico echoed, cocking his head in confusion. As far as he was aware, their family was perfectly normal, and the only unhappy one was him.

“And you, Mr. Nic-Nac, are the unhappiest of us all and are dragging us down!” she jokingly scolded him, as if she could read his mind. She pulled him by the arm off the bed and out of his room. “Take a shower, shave your face, fix your hair, and please change into something nice,” she instructed him. She shoved him into the bathroom and slammed the door behind him. “They’ll be here in half an hour!”

-

The new boss, Mr. Thomas J. Costa, was nothing like Nico had expected. He was young, like, mid-thirties, with a polite demeanor that slipped into something more personal and friendly when his Uncle Mike was around. He was crass, talking frankly about every minor inconvenience of his day while sprinkling in enough expletives to fill the Clemenza swear jar thrice over. He was relatable; he and Nico shared the same music tastes, and Nico’s jaw dropped in awe as the Boss relayed a tale of meeting Kurt Cobain in person.

And, most of all, he gave Nico’s life direction again.

It was a couple hours after dinner, as his mom and Jessica cleaned up in the kitchen and the men smoked in the back yard. Nico had been allowed to join the men outside, but all he did was stand awkwardly around the periphery as Don Costa regaled his dad and his uncle with the antics of a new puppy he was training (if he overheard that right).

“Yeah, he’s a dense little fucker, but he’ll get it, eventually,” Thomas sighed.

“Not like my Nico over here,” his dad had boasted proudly. Nico fought against the instinct to shrink in on himself as his father waved towards his direction and all three pairs of eyes fell onto him. “Honor roll student, president of the debate club, and former captain of the St. Drogo’s Direwolves.”

Former. He’d hoped that a year later, the word wouldn’t hurt so much. Too bad, it still did.

“That so?” The Boss took a puff of his cigarette, then redirected his attention to Nico. “Hey, kid, what are you doing? You in school, studying anything?”

“Oh, n-no, um, no, I’m not. I’m not, sir,” Nico stuttered, throwing in the honorific at the last minute as he subconsciously straightened his posture.

“Well, do you want to be studying?” Thomas bore down on him, steely gray eyes sharp with ambition and gleaming with promises. “What would you study, if you were in school right now?”

Nico’s mouth opened and closed like a fish as he struggled his way through an answer, eventually landing on a painfully-exhaled “eh…”

Thankfully, the new Boss didn’t laugh, or even sigh disappointedly like his uncle just now. Instead, he looked the young man over carefully, silently appraising him for a worth that Nico could hardly find in himself. “Our company could do with a legal consultant,” he said after a moment’s pause. “Frank himself said he wants to retire by the time he’s sixty-five, which would give you about seven years or so to get a law degree and complete an internship at Costa Insurance, if that’s something you’d want to do.”

Uncle Mike glanced at Don Costa. “Tom, isn’t he a little young to bring into the-”

“No younger than you were when Grandpa Tony brought you into the fold,” Thomas answered. He stuck his palm out to Nico, inviting him to shake on it. “Well, Nico?” he asked.

-

“And after a year of not having any sense of direction or purpose, to finally be thrown that line, to be shown a future I could attain…” Nico continued rambling on, “…I just went for it!”

Julio hummed to let him know he was listening as he applied the Band-Aids to his face.

“I put my whole ass into law school, and the gym, and guard duty, and for what?” Nico asked, hopping from his seat and marching out the bathroom stall as soon as Julio stopped leaning over him. “To find out it was a lie,” he grumbled, “that the man who got me out of my depression was a hopeless, selfish, sexually and physically abusive, manipulative piece of-”

“I get it, I get it,” Julio answered, opening the door of the restroom onto the snowy night. He sighed, closing his eyes as he collected his thoughts before looking up at Nico through his lashes, which were quickly collecting snow. “I looked up to someone who later came to disappoint me, too,” he whispered. “But look, Nico –Nico!”

Nico blinked back the furious stinging in his eyes. Julio was standing close to him, squinting up at him through snow-flake jeweled eyelashes as he enunciated his next words clearly. “He didn’t get you out of your depression. You put in the work, you studied those long hours, you saw your future and you ran at it with everything you had to get it. You did all that, not him. He was just the spark, if you will, but the rest?” His tattooed hand thumped his sternum with every word he uttered next. “That. Was. All. You.”

And, for the first time since he found out the truth about Khaled, Nico felt something warm and fulfilling –pride? –swell in his chest. Julio smiled up at him. “You don’t owe anybody anything, and you should take pride in what you’ve accomplished on your own,” he told him.

Julio’s smile was wide, comforting, even. Nico’s heart pounded. It was unlike any smile he’d received from Khaled. No shy smiles that barely reached his eyes on this one; Julio’s smile was all teeth, fierce, feral, and free in its unabashed expressions. The closest Khaled ever came to smiling that sincerely around Nico was when his favorite team scored a goal, and even then, never this brightly.

Why was he only now realizing how different they were? Khaled and Julio were like the sun and the moon! Where one would quietly slink into a room and blend in with the wall, the other would kick the door open and saunter in with the calm confidence of an alley cat to take the seat at the head of the table, assuming it was not already occupied. Where one would omit information, and divert the subject to avoid talking about the things that mattered, the other would not shut up, especially about the things that mattered (justice, judgment, obligations, etc.). Where one would have to be continuously pressured into giving a half-truth after boldly lying to his face for years, the other was nothing but honest with him from the beginning. He told Nico he’d kill Thomas Costa for what he did to Khaled, and by god, he meant every word. Nico found himself falling in love with him that honesty.

But it’s not like Khaled was in any position to tell me the truth, Nico remembered, not without endangering himself or me. Still, though, it was refreshing to have someone like Julio be their true, authentic selves around him. Dare he say, Julio’s sincerity was even attractive.

But Nico liked women, okay? (Right?) At least, he thought he did. Being raised in a conservative, Italian-American, nominally Catholic organized crime family taught him that liking women was the only acceptable answer. His entire sexual history constituted women. However, Nico knew what he felt in the public restroom of that bar. Temptation. Nobody who exclusively liked women would feel temptation as Khaled stood on his tiptoes and attempted to kiss him. Yet it took everything in his power not to kiss him that night. And he found himself fantasizing about the ‘what-ifs’ ever since.

Nico first fell for Khaled, how he looked up at him with deep, dark brown eyes that a man could easily get lost in. But now, he was losing himself in Julio’s light hazel eyes, glittering a dim golden glow in the darkness of the night. His eyes panned down to Julio’s cheekbones, red from the cold (surely) and dusted lightly with stubbly facial hair. His eyes settled onto Julio’s full, smiling lips. They looked soft. Nico had no idea why he wanted to test that theory.

Is there just something about a murder that brings people together? Nico wondered. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks the longer he stared at Julio’s lips, imagining what those lips would feel like.

“You good, Nico?” Julio waved a hand over Nico’s fixed gaze, jiggling the padlock chain necklace he wore and making the links clink softly against each other. Nico unfroze, remembering why kissing Julio would be a bad idea, among all the other questionable ideas they had that night.

“Yeah, I’m fine, I’m fine,” he lied. “I just zoned out for a minute.”

Julio –Khaled’s boyfriend –opened his mouth halfway, as if he were about to call Nico out on his lie, but whatever thought flashed between those hazel eyes compelled him to shut it again. He trudged away from the restroom and towards Nico’s Jeep.

Nico exhaled a frosty sigh. Of all the times to have a bi awakening, why did it have to be with a compulsive liar and a gun-for-hire? Why couldn’t he have this realization in high school, when the options were much lower stakes? He shook his head and followed.

Le Tag List: @kabie-whump @rainydaywhump @whumped-by-glitter @skittles-the-whumpee @generic-whumperz @bamber344 @there-will-always-be-blood @morning-star-whump @a-la-whump @watermelons-dont-grow-on-trees @defire @phoenixpromptsandstuff @scumashling

[graneymar]

Hello ✨ 

Can I have Neymar x Reader that the reader is Davi's mother, but they both broke up (like Carol and Ney), but the reader still loves Ney, and when he gets hurt (2014 World Cup), the reader is with him and takes care of him all the time, making Ney realize that the person who really loves him is the reader, in the end they are back as a family again 

your writing is very good, I love it! 💗 Sorry, English is not my primary language.

#12. NEYMAR: BACK TO YOU

SUMMARY: above

WARNINGS: none

PAIRING: Neymar x fem!reader

"Look Davi, who's there?", I said smiling, pointing at Neymar. "Papai!", Davi exclaimed happily. Neymar immediately noticed us and blew his son a kiss.

The Brazilian national team was warming up for their match against Colombia that was going to start in 30 minutes.

"Oh, hey Y/N", Rafaella greeted me, giving me a short hug. She instantly took Davi out of my arms and smooched him a hundreds of times. "I didn’t expect you to come", she continued, her focus still on her nephew. I shrugged, "I felt like I needed to finally show my support as well now that they’re in the quarterfinals. It was about damn time I attend a match."

Rafa nodded, "Yeah, we've been waiting to finally see you again." She pointed at her parents that sat down right behind us. I greeted them politely before turning around to watch Neymar and his teammates.

Actually, I tried to avoid Neymar and spend as little time with him as possible. We broke up three years ago, right after I gave birth to our son. It was his decision and I still wasn’t completely fine with it if I was being honest. I tried to get over him a million times, but every time he called, even if it was only to hear his sons voice, or came over to pick up Davi, my heart still was racing; I still felt those butterflies in my stomach. We could’ve been a match made in heaven, in my opinion at least, but Neymar seemed to look at it differently. He jumped from one relationship to another, letting me think it was easy to forget about me. Yes, he hurt me, but I couldn’t even blame him. Just because I was unable to become interested in someone else than him, didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to find love and happiness.

Rafaella and I always remained good friends though. She also was the only one who knew about my feelings for Neymar. When we got drunk one time, I accidentally told her, crying my heart out.

——————————————————————————

We were all cheering for Brazil, until only ten minutes before the end of the match, Colombia had a penalty - and scored. It didn’t mean much to me since Brazil was still about to win with two goals, but I noticed the match getting wilder, the Colombians seemed to feel pressured and became more aggressive.

There were only three minutes left when I saw Neymar laying on the ground - again. He has been fouled countless times throughout the match, but I realised something was off the moment Marcelo called the doctors to come. Neymar wouldn’t stop screaming and crying, it looked like he was even unable to move. I watched the staff carrying him off the field and started panicking. Whatever just happened was far from an 'ordinary' injury, I have never seen Neymar like this before. Tears started forming in my eyes, my whole body shivered. I quickly gave Davi to Rafaella and ran down the stairs, heading right into the building. I followed Neymars screams and shouts as the tears rolled down my cheeks. "Neymar!", I shouted out when I finally found him. Staff and doctors were surrounding him. One of them tried to move Neymars leg, which had to be incredibly painful according to how he cried out. "Y/N", he mumbled a few seconds later, just now noticing I was standing beside him, "Are you crying?" Seeing him in pain, not knowing what was going on, I couldn’t hold myself back from bursting out into tears. "Bebê, não chora. Estou bem. [Baby, don't cry. I'm good]" He tried to fake a smile but the pain was clearly visible in his eyes. He got carried away again, while all I did was silently pray that he'd be okay.

——————————————————————————

"Let me help you with your stuff", Neymar said as I entered his apartment with three bags and Davi on my arm. I looked at him in disbelief. "Boy, you're in a fucking wheelchair. You won’t touch a thing, understood?" He rolled his eyes. Obviously he was annoyed at how he couldn’t help with anything, but thinking of the fact that he almost got paralysed, I preferred him being mad at me than see him hurt again. "You really don’t have to do all of this, Y/N. I would’ve called my mom or sister if I needed something", he insisted.

"Mhm, okay, and who will clean the house, who will make sure you don’t slip while showering, who will stop you from doing shit you’re not supposed to do?", I asked raising my eyebrows. Davi already found his way to his fathers lap. "Ahh, you want to shower with me?", Neymar smirked. I held back a laugh, but couldn’t stop myself from grinning widely, "No idiot, I'm just making sure you do not slip, fall and break your neck."

Now that Neymar was finally home after being in the hospital for days, I decided Davi and I would stay at his place so I could take care of him until he got better. Of course his family tried to support him too, but Neymar has always been too stubborn. He was convinced he could do everything on his own. This way, he would’ve pushed his friends and family away sooner or later. I wouldn’t allow him to do me like that, so he knew he had no other choice than let me help him.

The first week passed. I tried my best to keep the house clean, we cooked together, watched a lot of movies and played around with Davi, who was the happiest to finally have both of his parents around. Even the bond between Neymar and me became much better again. We were finally able to talk to each other and hang out without making it somehow awkward. Whenever Davi was already asleep, we would drink one or two glasses of wine, play video games or simply talk for hours. This made me realise how much I missed his presence, but also how much love I actually had left for him. And it was a whole lot.

It was in the middle of the night when I heard a loud noise. "Shit", I murmured to myself. I quickly jumped out of the bed, still tried to be as quiet as possible to not wake Davi up. Getting out of the room, I saw the bathroom lights shine from under the door. I heard Neymar inaudibly cursing himself out. "Hey there, are you okay?", I asked as I softly knocked on the door. "I'm fine", he coldly answered. I rolled my eyes at the mister showing off his attitude again. "Can I come in?"

"Y/N, I said I'm fine. Go sleep or do whatever you want", he replied in a kind of mad tone. I took a deep breath and decided to wait for him to come out, so I could check if he was actually alright.

Only a few seconds later I heard some banging again. "Okay whether you want me to or not, I'm coming in now", I warned him before swinging the door open. There he was, sitting on the floor, looking up at me in frustration and disappointment. "Where’s your wheelchair?"

"I tried to walk on crutches", he said pointing at them laying on the floor. "Ney", I started as I sat down next to him, "You know you're too weak yet. The doctor said you need to use the wheelchair for at least another week." He threw his head back and stared at the ceiling. "It would’ve been fine if there wasn’t any water on the floor. I slipped, just like you predicted it would happen", he said, a small grin formed in his face at the last part. "Are you okay though? Does anything hurt?" He shook his head left and right, his eyes wandering to the floor. "Y/N, why are you doing all of this?" My brows furrowed at his question. "You do not owe me anything, we’ve been barely talking lately and yet you are the one who’s really there for me. I'm just trying to understand where this is coming from", he explained. I softly smiled. "Remember how I said you could always count on me, no matter what? I promised you - good times, bad times, whatever might happen between us, I would always be there for you. And you know I'm not one to break promises." He chuckled, but his facial expression again turned serious in a matter of second. "But that was before I hurt you." I nodded as I got flashbacks of how broken I was after he called it quits. "To be honest, I often think back and regret it. Leaving you was probably the dumbest decision I've ever made. We could’ve been a happy family now", he said, breaking the silence. "No, it wasn’t stupid of you. There’s no reason to stick around when the love is gone. You've been honest with me and looking back, I can finally say I appreciate and respect you for it. It would‘ve been worse if you played pretend instead", I answered.

"But… but what if… what if the love was never gone?", he suddenly said. My eyes widened. What the hell was he talking about? "I broke up with you because I was naive and egoistic, not because I didn’t love you. I wanted to see what life has to offer, thought I could do better - but I couldn’t. The last days I realised that everything I was looking for the last years was what I left behind… and I'm afraid I'm not getting the chance to get it back." I swallowed hard at his words. There were only two options to what would happen now: Either I was about to become the happiest woman on Earth or this would be the biggest disappointment I experienced in a long time. "Can you please say something?", he interrupted my thoughts. "What do you want me to say Neymar? I'm confused, I'm not sure what you’re on about."

"Do you think that there’s a possibility of us getting back together?" After hesitating for a short moment, I nodded in response. His lips formed a sweet smile and his eyes lit up, "Really?"

"I've been thinking the same, I just didn’t expect you to feel this way", I told him. My heart was racing, I got absolutely weak in the knees. "I didn’t start feeling this way just now, it’s been quite a while", he admit. We simply sat there, looking deeply into each others eyes, both of us grinning like crazy. Neymar was slowly leaning for a kiss that I was about to return, when we heard some weird noises. Turning our heads to the bathroom door, we saw our toddler staying there, expressing his disgust by acting like he’s puking. "Baby, what are you doing here? Why aren’t you sleeping?", I asked, trying to hide the fact that I was slightly blushing. Davi babbled something that I was unable to understand until Neymar replied to him. "Sim", he laughed, "Mommy and Daddy like each other a lot." Davi again crinkled his nose in disgust and walked out of the room. "Get used to it, meu filho [my son]", Neymar shouted after him. I slightly slapped his shoulder, both of us bursted out into laughter.

"Where did we stop again?", he smirked before finally crashing his lips onto mine. "Another one", he whispered after we pulled away from each other.

[optimysticals]

This pendant is a perfect example of my love for Tumblr as an artistic business.

I love Tumblr for the fandom, the jokes, to social commentary, and the things that are just too difficult to explain to people not on this hellsite (affectionate).

But, this. This pendant. Damn.

We made these adorable little Robin Pendants with hand enameled masks and little crystals probably close to a decade ago. (Checking the OP timestamp it was December 2014).

When I originally sat down to make them I wasn't just going to enamel one of each color to see who was popular, that would have been silly. So I made a bunch of each.

In business terms, they flopped. But I always loved them.

They haven't been on our website since probably 2016 or 2018 (two big overhauls happened those years). The pendants were all disassembled so the crystal could be used elsewhere. And the Robins have been in a drawer ever since.

So why is this little pendant above so special to me and my feelings about Tumblr?

Because I took that photo today. Of a Stephanie Brown Robin Pendant I made this afternoon. Because someone found that ancient post, and commented on it that they'd love one of these. I was able to reach out and let them know it was possible. And through the magic of Tumblr we resurrected an 8 year old retired jewelry piece.

That's not something that happens on other social media sites. Once something is gone from the front page, it's gone forever. Resigned to the dustbin of digital history.

But here, here we celebrate "World Heritage Posts". We queue things like Sascha the Christmas Tiger 365 days in advance. We delight in going digging to find bits of the things we love.

And as an artist who tries desperately to make a living off of the shiny things we make, the fact that something can be found a week later, a year later, a decade later. It really is magic.

So yeah. Just going to be over here being sappy about community and jewelry for awhile.

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Out of curiosity, do you actually buy that Bugnoire v Monarch was the plan from the start or like the Sentikids they decided on it later, set up be damned?

For context, this ask is based off of the interview given at the end of season five. A summary of the interview provided on Tumblr gives us this statement:

The writers then say that they had actually planned since 2014/2015 that Chat Noir would not be there to defeat Hawkmoth as they wanted a very particular power fusion to happen (aka Marinette wielding both the ladybug and black cat miraculous and becoming Bug Noire).

I have no reason to call this a BS claim. Stuff like the sentikids has clear contradictions in the text that I can point to when I say, "You either didn't plan this or you suck at world building or both." But Adrien being sidelined? That's been going on since season two and just getting worse and worse as the seasons go on, so I have no trouble believing that really was their plan all along. Is it a terrible plan? Sure, but I've been saying that Adrien's writing was wonky since season two and this actually does kind of explain it.

If your end goal is to keep Adrien from having a role in the final take down of the villain, it makes sense to make sure that he's never treated as Ladybug's equal partner. It needs to feel like her fighting alone isn't a big deal. That fighting alone isn't her darkest hour, but a cool girl power moment and they did achieve that. I never once got worried that Chat Noir wasn't going to be there from a, "Can Ladybug handle this?" point of view. I was only worried from a, "Wtf is this story supposed to be?" point of view.

I would not be stunned if this claim turned out to be a lie, but there's enough evidence somewhat backing it up for me to be fine taking it and everything else in the interview at face value. It all falls perfectly in line with the quality of writing we've seen in this show and is part of why I feel so comfortable saying that season six probably isn't going to make things better. The writers think they're nailing it so far. If you disagree, don't keep watching.