#sometimes a little slander is necessary | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

treedaddymcpuffpuff · 8 months ago

Text

Excessive Force : Tom Ludlow x Fem Nurse Reader (COLLAB W/ THE INCREDIBLE @johnwickb1tsch) - Chapter One Two Three Four

TW: sexual harassment, no means yes, asshole doctors/doctor slander (sorry if you’re an actual good doctor), mentions of alcoholism/sickness, burns

You should probably decide to do whatever the opposite of man up is-pussy down?-and specifically request to not have Officer Ludlow ever be on your patient roster again. He’s bad for your health and, despite being the one always putting him back together, you’re bad for his, too.

You’re trying not to morally question yourself about why you didn’t do something after the first, second, or hell, even third time he borderline sexually harassed you… You’re trying not to think too much about why you don’t do it now: open the manager’s door with your shaking, clammy hand and say “hey, creepy patient, please keep him away from me”. It would be so easy. This stuff happens a lot to the other staff in the ED, and always gets solved without a problem.

You don’t do it, though. You walk away without blacklisting Tom Ludlow. And doesn’t that just say mountains about you. But, anyway, you have your own job to do fighting disease and trauma from the mean streets of the City of Angels, so you don’t really have time for all this petty drama bullshit.

Whatever helps you sleep at night.

You’re not really sure how it’s possible, after eight years of higher education plus residency training, but doctors really can be idiots sometimes.

“Discharge, really?” You whisper to yourself, clicking on the order to see if it’s just a mistake-nope, legit.

You grab the clipboard from your patient’s bedside and go hunt down Dr. Mercer, who is currently standing at the desk flipping through paperwork.

“Hey, Julian, can I have a quick second?”

He gives you one of his signature, charming white smiles that can calm almost any belligerent patient down. “Of course. Anything for my favorite nurse.” He motions for you to sit in the swivel chair, and takes the one opposite from you.

Julian makes it a point to give you his full attention, and that never fails to fluster you, but you can shoulder through it most of the time. The man is too handsome for his own good, and you haven’t found a female in this hospital immune to his charm-even Shelby, the housekeeper who is strictly attracted to women… and one man: Dr. Mercer.

“You put in a discharge order for room 13?”

“Hmm, one sec.” He leans over to click through the computer, then turns back. “Yes, is there a problem?”

“Well, I thought we would be admitting him?”

“No, that won’t be necessary. He’s free to go home.”

“Julian.” You’ve known this man for a whole year and should not be this hesitant about questioning a single order from him, but you take a big pause nonetheless. Normally, this wouldn’t be a problem; any other doctor you could confront with ease, but Julian is so, so nice and he always gets your Starbucks order right and never lets you pay him back for it. You don’t want to be a dick to such a sweet person. “I don’t think he’s ready to be discharged. He’s a heavy drinker and his potassium is still low. Plus, he lives alone.”

“His potassium is only one point off, y/n. And the rest of his labs look good. I can’t keep someone for alcoholism.”

Well, the good thing is that you’re not hesitant anymore, just really pissed, because obviously Dr. Mercer’s kindness and understanding doesn’t extend to his less fortunate patients.

“Wow, that’s not okay, Julian.”

His smile fades a little bit, or just turns mean, you can’t really tell which, and he sighs. “I’m sorry, I’m very busy. If this conversation is about morals, I’m afraid I don’t have time for it.”

“It’s not about morals.” You try to lasso your anger, but it seeps into the tone of your voice like a hiss. “I’m concerned about patient safety, and his potassium is just going to drop further if we send him back to drink himself to death. And then he’ll have a heart attack.”

“I treat current conditions. I can’t focus on what-ifs.” He tries to put his hand atop yours, but you pull back.

All doctors are the same? What a shocker. You haven’t met even one who didn’t eventually do this shit, and Julian is no different despite your burgeoning hope that he was.

“I’m not giving him that paperwork,” you say. “I’m not discharging him.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not doing it.”

“We need to free up the bed for patients who need it.”

“Do it yourself, then.”

His smile falls the whole way down, and you can’t find it in your bleeding heart to care.

You need to get away from him before you say something that will make him want to get you your usual coffee order and then spit in it, but he grabs your forearm gently before you can.

“Y/n-“

“I told you I’m not discharging him.” He lets you pull back. “And I really don’t have time for this.”

***

You should just let it go, but by the time your break comes around, you are still quietly seething over Dr. Mercer’s idiotic order, and the way he fucking talked to you.

You’ve come a long way, but sometimes when a man talks down to you with that certain tone, you still see red.

Maybe it’s a character flaw, but after the hell you’ve lived through, you can’t help but feel entitled to some righteous feminine rage.

You’re alone in the little side nook with its hard plastic chairs that almost hurt you more than standing. But your feet need a break, so while you massage your foot your tailbone suffers.

You need a massage. A real, full-body rub-down–why is it, that the thought calls up the memory of a certain large, strong, calloused pair of hands that may or may not belong to a certain inappropriate officer of the law?

It’s possible you are staring into space, fantasizing about burning dark eyes unabashedly boring into yours as those mitts for hands–

A soft knock on the doorjamb pulls you back to the present–and the last person you want to see is taking up the whole doorway. It takes every iota of self-control you have left not to snarl, What do you want?

“Doctor?” You even put extra sugar into your tone, which he seems to sense is utterly manufactured judging by his awkward smile.

“Y/n.”

You wait silently, allowing the lift of one eyebrow that you fear conveys all your disdain. “I believe I owe you an apology.”

You blink, certain you misheard.

“I’m sorry?”

“You were right. The patient was not ready for discharge.”

You blink again. Has hell warmed over? “I know,” you finally answer, which for some reason makes him smile. He takes the liberty to cross the room to sit down next to you, with only one plastic chair between you.

“It took some courage to stand up to me. Well done.”

Dr. Julian Mercer is TV doctor hot–tall, broad shouldered, handsome. His thin scrubs do very little to conceal his lithe, athletic body underneath, and everyone in the hospital loves to titter about him as he breezes by. You’re not exactly immune to his charms, but failing to advocate for a patient for fear of displeasing him wouldn’t have even occurred to you.

“I just want what's best for my patients.” That, at least, is the truth.

The good doctor nods, his longish hair swinging into his eyes. Maybe you do feel the slightest urge to brush it away.

“Truly commendable, y/n.” Then he points at your foot, and makes a come hither gesture with his fingers.

You don't understand what he wants, and your face shows it.

“Is your foot hurting you?”

Perpetually, is the answer, but you just nod dumbly.

“Give it here.”

“Why?”

His smile is gentle as spring rain. “I’m offering you an apology foot rub.”

“How wildly inappropriate,” you comment while extending your foot. You’ve eyed Dr. Julian’s hands before. They may be soft, but they are big, so maybe he could be of some use to you.

He laughs at that; a short huff of laughter that possibly softens you a little towards him. And once your foot is in his hands–ok, that feels good, maybe better than good, and maybe Dr. Julian does know something about making the human body feel better. A small noise escapes you, and you are breaking so many hospital policies right now, but god dammit they work you to the bone here.

He’s even kind enough to do your other foot too, and by the time he’s done with you you’re leaning back in your chair on your hand with your eyes closed. You open one eye with a sigh as he gives the ball of your foot a finishing squeeze.

“Ok. I’m mostly not mad anymore.”

He gives a short guffaw at that. “You were mad?” Like he’s surprised you’ve taken any of this personally.

“Of course I was.”

“Oh.”

Strangely he doesn’t seem offended by this. “You really do care about your patients.”

“Why do you sound so surprised?”

“I'm not surprised. but…”

“But what?”

“It's hard on us as medical professionals, to take every case personally. We do our best, of course, but at the end of the day you have to keep some sliver of your heart back for yourself, or you won’t survive to help anyone tomorrow.”

You raise your eyebrows at that. It never would have even occurred to you not to give your heart and soul to anyone who needed it during your shift.

“I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”

You can’t help but notice he still hasn't released your foot, toying with the curve of your big toe through your sock.

“Perhaps we will.”

He is looking at you searchingly, and it’s all you can do not to flinch from that intuitive gaze.

“Thank you, Dr. Mercer.”

He opens his mouth as though to say more, but one of your colleagues walks in, and that’s the end of your little moment.

***

Surprise, surprise, when the next night, Guess Who finds his way onto your examination table.

For fuck’s sake.

“Officer Ludlow. What brings you in tonight?”

You know you sound tired, look like hell, and smell like straight up human waste, but Tom looks extra happy to see you. “You work too much.”

You don’t have the energy to argue, much less with the truth. “Yeah, and you get injured too much.” Great, solid comeback, you really got him there. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

He whistles. “Bad mood. Damn.”

“Just tell me what you’re fucking here for, Tom.” You plop down on the stool next to his bed, chin in your hand.

He tugs his charred pant leg up, and beneath, so fresh it should be sizzling and smoking, is a nasty burn the size of your head.

“How did you manage that?” You wince, leaning down to assess the damage. Luckily, it’s only second degree, shiny and bloody and wet and looking too painful to bear weight on. “How are you walking?”

“Remember the sword?”

“How could I forget?”

“Okay, well this time it was a flamethrower.”

“How are people getting their hands on this shit?”

He shrugs, which makes you laugh for the first time all day. “Alright, I don’t think it’s third degree, but I need the doctor to-“

“Good evening Mr. Ludlow.” Julian has drawn back the curtain and stepped inside your little exam room with that branded, signature smile on his face.

“Hey, Julian-Doctor-can you take a look at this?”

While Julian looks at the burn, you sneak a peek at Tom, and see some type of look on his face-not confusion, not concern, more analyzing. Assessing. Thinking.

“This your doctor boyfriend you were telling me about?”

You can almost hear the sizzle of heat making its way up your neck to your cheeks. This fucking bastard. Embarassing you at work, trying to catch you out in your lie. He levels that penetrating gaze with you, just the tiniest tick at the corner of his mouth betraying his amusement.

Yet he is not the only perceptive man in the room. Julian looks between the two of you, and you swear he reads the situation as clearly as a book. Without losing a beat, god bless, he goes into Full Authoritative Doctor Mode. “I am, not that my relationship with Miss y/n is any of your concern.”

Either of them could have pushed you over with a feather–you can hardly believe Julian is playing along.

“Sorry, doc. I’m a detective. Just curious by nature.” Ludlow levels Julian with a stony look, conveying that he didn’t believe the doctor–or he really didn’t like what he’d said.

“I’m sure you are,” answers Julian, throwing you a knowing look that only makes the fire under your collar ten times worse. “Can you go check on Mrs. Andersen in room 10, y/n? I can handle Officer Ludlow.”

Somehow, you kind of doubt that, and you find you’re reluctant to leave them alone in the room together. But, you’ve already been insubordinate once this week. They’re grown men. What’s the worst that could happen?

Yet as you’re making your exit, you can’t help but feel like you’ve just left Dr. Mercer at the mercy of a wolf.

You are glad you went to check on Mrs. Andersen, because she needed some warm assurance, on top of a slight adjustment of her IV. When you walk back out into the hall, headed for the nurses station, it’s almost as though the atmosphere has changed. No one else seems to sense it, but somehow you just know something is off. With dread in your heart you scurry back to where you’d left Ludlow and Mercer, bursting through the curtains.

They are standing toe to toe, nose to nose. It’s made a little more ridiculous by the bulky dressing on Tom’s calf, but you still don’t doubt his ability to wipe the floor with Dr. Julian. Which is a ridiculous fucking thing for you to have to worry about, but here you are.

You don’t raise your voice, not wanting to draw attention, but you do not hesitate to put yourself between them. You try not to notice how solid Tom’s chest is beneath your hand, compared to Julian’s. “That is enough.” You direct this at Tom, of course, because you have zero doubt as to who started it.

“Why are you yelling at me?” Tom complains childishly.

“Because I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid. But this asshole seems to think he owns you.”

You do lift an eyebrow at that, but it’s so not the issue at hand. “Do you want to be escorted out by security?”

“I think I’m done here anyway.” Ludlow picks up his jacket, glaring at Julian. “Thanks for the dressing, Doc.” His tone, however, more conveys Eat shit and die. Then he looks at you, and those burning dark eyes send an uneasy thrill to your toes–by way of your treacherous pussy, who does not seem to understand that men like Tom Ludlow are very bad for you. She has gotten you into so much trouble before, and by god you are not letting her run the show this time.

“Be seeing you, sweetheart.”

“Not on these hospital grounds, you’re not,” asserts Dr. Julian, and Tom, damn him, just laughs.

There is just something about that man’s presence that leaves behind traces of him in a room, long after he has gone. You just stand there, maybe rather stupidly, struggling to process what just happened. What is it about you, that attracts these cocky assholes that just can’t take no for an answer?

“Are you alright?” asks Julian, and you actually believe that he cares about you, concern written in his achingly handsome features, his kind hand on your shoulder.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry about him.”

He gives you a gently amused look. “You are not responsible for that man’s bad behavior.

And you won’t be treating him anymore.”

You would argue, assert yourself, do that thing where you’re strong and independent and take care of the own sore skin on your back, but you really don’t have the energy right now, and Julian-fuck him-he’s right, you should not be Ludlow’s nurse anymore for his sake and yours.

You pinch the bridge of your nose and close your eyes, wishing it was the end of your shift. “Alright.”

At least the rest of the night goes by fairly quickly, although that means you’re busy enough not to have another break, however, Julian-apologetic Julian, who brings you a turkey sandwich and makes you sit down and eat it and drink at least half a bottle of water-is making things a little better.

The doctors don’t really get into the shit like you and your fellow nurses, although they are just as busy, and the fact that he takes time to be concerned about you after the emotional beginning of your shift really touches you. He knows he fucked up the other day, and he’s in full sweet cinnamon roll mode to try and rectify it. That’s why you can’t-and, if you’re being honest-don’t want to tell him no when he catches you in the parking lot before you get into your car.

“Here, you left your stethoscope.” He loops it around your neck, then opens your driver’s door for you.

“Julian, it really is okay.” You reach up to pat his lab coat shoulder in reassurance. “And I’m fine. Tom is just a big bully.” Why do you feel like you’re betraying him by talking shit to Julian in the parking lot?

He looks down at you like he’s made up his mind about something, and grins. “Have coffee with me?”

You blink at him. “Like, right now?”

“No, Saturday morning. Seven AM?” He grabs the spiral notebook and pen from his breast pocket and writes you his number. “Since I’m your boyfriend, I should take you out on a date, don’t you think?”

Well, at least he’s asking nicely instead of being an asshole about it like some people…

You chuckle, tuck the note and your hands into your scrub pockets, and hope the heat isn’t visible on your face. “Guess you’re right.”

You might be playing a dangerous game, here, but hell, there’s a reason you work in the ED of a level one trauma center; you’re a sucker for cheap thrills

#tom ludlow x reader #tom ludlow #street kings #keanuverse fic #keanuverse

125 notes · View notes

dnsisnakah · 5 months ago

Text

it's as if this boy is truly cursed.

rejected by all the divine entities from heaven, slandered by god, taken under their wings by the demons of misery.

he doesn't deserve happiness. he's been convinced of that for a long time.

his thoughts swirl haphazardly in his head, each time replaying events of the past, a possible future, and... something else. something that never happened, but he feels it. as if he is unhappy not just in one world, but in every possible world in this universe.

tragic events swim before his eyes, the noise of screams and shrieks of pain ringing in his ears.

his head thunders.

his heart aches every time he smells a familiar odor, but turning his head to its source he doesn't understand where it came from. why does he remember? why does he even know it's something or someone he once cared about? who is it? why? when or where...?

his eyebrows furrow, his jaw creaking with tension as a headache throbbed in his skull, making his eyes squeeze painfully shut.

he's tired.

tired of it. it's like the same thing every time. he loses people like it happens every day, like it's already his routine like just breathing. but tears still run down his cheeks and sobs come off his lips as his body shakes coarsely leaning over the bed.

he's tired.

tired of looking for warmth, not from the fact that he's not dressed for the weather, not from the cold wind blowing in his face, turning his facial hair into a mess.

but how good it feels for him when he hugs you when he meets you or when it’s time to go separate ways. his hands squeeze you gently, maybe even a little tighter than necessary. he is afraid of. afraid that you will leave for good. that you will leave him just like the others. but even if so, of course he won’t blame you for it. of course not. his love and affection are so pure and sincere that in this regard he is like a child who is in awe of his favorite teddy bear. he buries himself into your shoulder, lightly touching it with his lips and quietly whispers something that you cannot hear.

he loves to kiss you. loves to comb your front strands back and lightly peck your forehead and nose while giggling softly. loves to take your face in his hands, lightly squeezing your cheeks so he can kiss your entire face. loves your soft lips, which smell different every day, but are so delicious because of lipsticks and balms. he is trying to show that he loves. that he loves you and he is sincere. also, if you have a lot of moles on your face, arms or shoulders, this is even a plus! he loves to count them, leaving light kisses on top while you laugh quietly.

with you he doesn't feel a headache. with you he doesn't hear the buzzing in his ears. after all, he pays all his attention to you, your comfort and making sure you know that you are loved by him.

but when he first receives some kind of gift from you, it doesn’t matter if it’s something small or big, expensive or cheap. he will cry.

he also sometimes cries at night, because the longing for those dear people who left him did not go away, but was simply waiting for the moment to strike with renewed vigor.

he sobs, clenching his fists in his lap as his shoulders shake. just show him that it's not his fault, that he didn't do anything wrong, and that he can cry on your shoulder. gently run through his strands, kiss his temple and stroke his back while his arms wrap around your waist, squeezing in fear that you will leave him at any moment while he is vulnerable.

for him there is no need to conquer the sky, there is no need to do something impossible. just be close to him. prove that he deserves happiness. and he will be grateful all his life. and not even one.

-for some reason I'm drawn to this kind of oddly described stuff, but I'll just leave it here.-

(request are still open.)

#quackity x reader #alex quackity x reader #quackity #qsmp #dsmp #pipipupulmao

26 notes · View notes

yolli-es · 4 months ago

Text

StarGuardianAU!Jinx × FemReader. Part 2💫💫

I COULDN'T FIT IT IN 1 PART, SORRY 🙌🏻

I've read these posts a thousand times already, but I'm still not sure about the content. English is not my native language, thank you for understanding

After that, you couldn't tear yourself away from each other. Jinx wasn't afraid to go anywhere with you anymore. Again, she doesn't give a shit about the opinions of idiots around her. The main thing is that you know the truth.

Jinx wasn't embarrassed when everyone stared at your duet in public places. You tried to imitate her in this.

Damn, you were addicted to her.

You started spending time together outside of school. Jinx constantly drags you to her house.

You especially remember the sleepover when Jinx first showed you her Kuro and Shiro! Those chubby guys were just as in love with you as you were with them. Even Shiro, who doesn't express any emotions, can smile at you on your first meeting.

Jinx, by the way, doesn't know what kind of animals they are. She likes to think they're a rare breed of alien cat-dog. You support her in this.

These cuties could become invisible at any moment. This is necessary to always be close to their owner and in a moment of urgent need to help her save the universe.

Only their owner, Jinx, could see these animals at any time.

After your acquaintance with the chubby ones, you ask Jinx to show you them every time

Things were great between you two, but you hated the slander against Jinx. People kept thinking she was horrible, which you really didn't like.

That's why, when Lux and the others couldn't handle Zoe's new pet, you convinced Jinx to step in.

Jinx wanted to help them, because despite the harsh words she still considered them friends. However, it seemed to her that everyone would turn on her again because of the explosions and other things. She did not intend to make things worse for them. That yours admiring look and short conversation finally convinced her to intervene.

Well, her spectacular appearance did not go unnoticed. Magic and glitter didn't help the Star Guardians, so heavy magical explosions saved not only the girls, but the entire city.

People finally shut up and recognized Jinx as worthy of the powers of starlight. Lux also apologized publicly, which helped a lot.

They discussed everything later, alone. Lux was truly ashamed, but Jinx didn't seem to care. She wasn't angry anymore, not when that fight allowed her to meet you.

So, Jinx is back on the team, and no one is whining about her little love of destruction. Still, she does all this work to protect her loved ones. Even if in such a weird way.

You were proud of her, and, believe me, she was no less proud of herself. You're dealing with Jinx, after all.

Sometimes you spoil her with too much attention.

You also learned that Jinx is incredibly strong. And that's a hindrance. Of course, you felt it during your first embrace, but under the surge of feelings, you did not pay due attention.

She herself didn't know about it. Until you have a huge bruise on your skin from her weak push on your shoulder. She is ashamed of it, and she won't stop apologizing.

The power of starlight made her much stronger than any human, and her fighting style allowed her to compete with other Guardians in this.

Now she has to control the force of her pressure. When she took your hand, she did it very carefully.

Your relationship began spontaneously. You found yourself not far from a Star Guardians brawl. Noticing you in the crowd, Jinx's blood boiled. She had never been so serious and careful.

As the creature headed your way, you learned another amazing thing. When Jinx has a lot of adrenaline in her blood, wings appear behind her back. Just for a few seconds while her little animals merge into one giant rocket. One black and one white. You knew her tattoo was there for a reason!

You have never seen anything more beautiful and dangerous. No threat to life could ruin this moment for you.

It ended well, as always, but not for Jinx. She went into hysteria when she found herself next to you, right after everything had calmed down and the danger had passed. She looked at you over and over, breathing heavily.

You said you were fine, but she wouldn't calm down. You couldn't think of anything better than to grab her face with your hands and pull her closer.

Jinx kissed you without thinking twice. It came out a little rude, even though she tried not to overdo it, but you didn't care. You answered with pleasure.

And so, in the light of flashing cameras and the embarrassing glances of her team, you "announced" the beginning of your relationship.

After such a hot start, your couple was not left alone. You were often photographed and filmed, and something stupid was shouted at you.

Tell Jinx you hate it, and they'll be gone in a few seconds.

Otherwise, your relationship has been unusually calm. Jinx is very active and inquisitive, but if you want silence, she won't mind. Will you tell her something, like at the very beginning of your relationship?

She still loves listening to you and can't stand other people's chatter.

You also take pleasure in taking care of her hair.

Your first time having sex wasn't planned.

You were brushing her hair when you suddenly thought that riding her was a good idea.

Jinx held on for quite a while. She wanted to touch, taste, and listen. It was only a matter of time before her desire overcame her fear.

You found yourself under her.

Jinx started out very confident, very in her style. But then she started to lose her head, blush, and huff and puff awkwardly.

This is as much a first-time experience for her as it is for you.

She was very careful with you. Every movement of her hand was controlled.

Jinx couldn't relax at first due to excessive control of one's movements. It was bad, but you didn't mind.

The friction against each other, although so awkward, was pleasant.

When you were able to cum from this, Jinx was delighted.

You definitely liked it, until it dawned on you that Jinx hadn't finished.

She said it was okay, but you just had to make her relax.

She didn't let you finish what you started that day.

After that, struggling with your embarrassment, you pestered Jinx when you both were alone. Not too pushy, and the girl could always say "no" to you.

Jinx never said this.

After a couple of months of physical contact (not always a sexual type), Jinx was able to relax.

You definitely won't be prepared for such a high libido. Jinx won't leave you alone. She's been holding back for a long time, and now she wants to take hers back.

Her hands did everything themselves, gently and easily, just the way you like it.

She loves to slowly run her fingers down your stomach, but she never touches your pussy so fast.

Try to rub yourself against her hands, and she will remove them from your body.

She also didn't forget about your breasts, often "accidentally" running her fingernail over your nipple.

When she undresses you, she can't help but let out a quiet squeak. Your body is her second blessing. No, starlight be damned, you were the first.

Jinx also loves kissing. It's always dirty, she's very impatient.

Speaking of which, Jinx starts with two fingers at once.

The pace is also not kind to your body, get ready to squirm and beg for her to be slower. She won't listen.

But if you hug her around the neck and gently rub your cheeks against hers? Okay, she'll slow down.

She melts at any tenderness yours offers her. But this does not mean that she will be unhappy with rude treatment.

Don't be shy about scratching and biting Jinx. Her body regenerates quickly, so forget about restraint and just grab her like it's your last time.

Don't pull her hair while she's between your legs.

Forget it; Jinx will let you do it. But please, not too much. You're unlikely to be able to pull them out, but it's a big distraction from her lunch.

She also doesn't mind if you choke her for a short time.

Jinx won't do this to you. Don't even try.

Any other even slightly cruel games in sex on you are also prohibited.

Want to take the initiative? She will be happy to obey you.

But don't even try to tease her longer than necessary or tell her what to do.

Her pride will not allow her to torment her longer than she wants.

Sorry, but even in this position, Jinx is dominant.

Her weak spot is her back, right on the spot of her tattoo. Stroke, scratch, or kiss; she will respond to everything very willingly.

Jinx will moan loudly and expect the same from you.

"Come on, you can be louder. You don't want me to press harder, do you?"

The sounds of your pussy excite her no less.

She teases like hell, but she would never do anything that you wouldn't like.

Due to Jinx's work and hard studies, sometimes you can't see each other for a long time. She can't stand it and fucks herself with her fingers until her hand gets tired and and her throat will start to hurt from moaning your name.

She tries to mimic your movements, but it almost never works.

Jinx doesn't like doing it, but the itch of dissatisfaction slowly eats her from the inside.

She'll never tell you, but her biggest sexual fantasy is having sex with you near school. In the very place where you first met.

In her head, it's mostly romantic but also very creepy. You won't do it.

She also has a little secret that she has never told you about: Kuro and Shiro saw everything you did with each other. Every time.

Jinx tried to chase them away, but they just don't understand what she wants from them.

At the same time, it never bothered her.

But you will definitely be embarrassed, and after this confession, you will definitely not be able to fuck anymore.

You might die of shame.

She adores you, loves you, and cares for you. In a variety of ways

PART ONE: StarGuardianAU!Jinx × FemReader

THANK YOU FOR READING! I understand if you couldn't read even 1 of my posts about this. You might think it would be easier to write a fanfic about it. No, it's not easier to me 🥹🤚

I didn't plan to become an author here, but I have a couple more ideas 😋

#arcane jinx #jinx x reader #arcane jinx x reader #jinx arcane #jinx league of legends #jinx star guardian #arcane x reader #arcane netflix #jinx x fem!reader #arcane headcanon

38 notes · View notes

teine-mallaichte · 14 days ago

Note

Happy Friday!! <3 How about "It would have been a lot easier to treat if you'd mentioned it sooner." from the high pain tolerance starters, for Fenris & whoever you're feeling?

Some more post DA2 FenHawke fir @dadrunkwriting . Sort of a part two to Denying The Symptoms Of Illness but i don't think reading that one first is entirely necessary.

"It would be a lot easier to treat if you'd mentioned it sooner," Fenris said flatly, dipping the cloth into the water.

Adrian groaned from where he was sprawled on the bed, his face pale and slick with sweat. His voice was hoarse when he replied, “Didn’t want to make a fuss.”

Fenris crouched him, wringing out the cloth. “You can barely stand without swaying, and you’re burning up,” he said, voice dangerously calm, “Bella is threatening to throw you overboard. How exactly is that not making a fuss?”

Adrian offered a weak grin, "I’m a rogue, Fen. Being sneaky is kind of my thing."

Fenris exhaled sharply, the sound somewhere between a sigh and a growl, pressing the cool cloth to Adrian’s forehead with far more care than his tone implied. "You’re not sneaky. You’re stubborn... And reckless. And infuriating. And -"

"Don’t forget charming," Adrian interrupted, though his voice lacked its usual luster.

Fenris froze for a moment, his lips twitching as though debating whether to scowl or roll his eyes. Instead, he simply shook his head, muttering something under his breath in Tevene. Refusing to dignify that comment with a response. He shifted to sit on the edge of the bed, adjusting the cloth to prevent it from slipping off Hawkes brow as the man refused to hide stay still.

"You’re worrying,” Adrian murmured, his voice rasping and uneven.

Fenris glanced down at him, sharp green eyes narrowing. “You mistake frustration for worry.”

Adrian chuckled weakly, the sound breaking off into a rough cough. “Sure, let’s call it that,” he rasped, his grin faltering into another coughing fit. His eyes fluttered shut, but he wasn’t about to let Fenris win this one. “You’ve got that little crease between your eyebrows - your ‘Hawke’s being an idiot again’ crease. Don’t think I didn’t notice.”

Fenris’s lips pressed into a thin line, though his hand unconsciously moved to steady Adrian as the rogue shifted restlessly, "you're always being an idiot." he said flatly, but his tone softened despite himself.

Adrian let out a strained laugh, the sound ragged and dry. “lies! Lies and slander.” His body shuddered slightly, and he winced as the movement sent a flare of discomfort through him.

Fenris's fingers tightened ever so slightly on Adrian's arm as he settled him back into place, carefully adjusting the cloth again, all the while keeping his gaze steady. “You make it very hard not to be frustrated with you, Hawke.”

Adrian chuckled weakly, the sound more of a wheeze than anything else, and for a moment, the rogue’s usual bravado flickered out entirely. He looked up at Fenris, his eyes half-lidded, glazed with fever, but still bright with that familiar mischievous glint. “Yeah, I know. I’m nothing if not a challenge.”

Fenris watched him for a long moment, his expression unreadable, before he shook his head again, “Honestly, sometimes I'm tempted to throw you overboard myself,” Fenris muttered, though the threat held no real heat behind it.

"Love you too," Adrian murmured quietly with a weak grin. His eyelids fluttered closed as the fever consumed him, leaving behind only the faintest ghost of a smile.

Fenris reached out to move the cloth again, brushing a lock of damp hair from Adrian's forehead in the proces, his fingers lingering there just a moment longer than necessary. "Idiot," he muttered softly.

#Adrian Hawke #FenHawke #Fenris #dadwc #da drunk writing circle

10 notes · View notes

donnerpartyofone · 8 months ago

Text

nothing to see here

I have to get over this crippling fear of being misunderstood that makes me angry, paranoid, anti-social, and sometimes even aggressive. It makes me say too much or too little. It makes me a worse writer.

I think that when most people complain about being misunderstood, they are talking about having a bad reputation, being slandered, or having no one who takes the time to get to know them. The latter thing correlates with a false equivalence between being understood and being liked, which is not a necessary product of understanding. Sometimes people also equate being understood with being correct--forgetting that someone can understand what you are saying and still disagree with it. Variations on all of those things have happened to me, just like anybody else, but my anxiety is really about people simply not comprehending the basic things that I am actually saying.

People in my life tell me that I'm very articulate, this is held to be my main quality I think, but that idea is contradicted by the frequency with which I go to great pains to explain something as specifically as possible, only to have people (often the same people who tell me I'm smart and well-spoken) completely misconstrue it, project their own baggage onto it, hold me responsible for assumptions about what I mean that are contradicted by what I just said, repeat back to me what I just said as if it were their own original idea, or even answer questions that I didn't actually ask. Mansplaining is alive and well in 2024 CE, perhaps especially among leftist men who believe they could never personally commit this crime, which presumption leaves them wide open to mansplaining all the time without thinking. But that's only a small part of the story of why so many people never seem to have the slightest idea of what I am saying to them, no matter how specific and detailed I try to be in my quest to say one thing clearly, while eliminating all over possible meanings.

I suppose it is terrifying to be misunderstood because it can make it so that you cannot control your circumstances. Advocating for yourself counts for nothing if people witlessly or willfully fail to understand your words. Language control is a major weapon of authority. I have been in corporate situations where my colleagues and I were prevented from resolving problems because upper management, who were tired of hearing about the problems, instituted language bans that prevented us from even discussing the problems clearly and effectively. I was once at an ayahuasca retreat (don't ask) where the shady organizers banned everyone from using the word "sick", which I guess was contrary to their whole healing ideology; so if you had to "get well" then you would "get well" into your bucket and an attendant would empty the bucket into the "wellness pit". One of the people I was with had grown up in an evangelical environment and went on to study religions and cults, and he pointed out that this form of language control is a classic red flag--and in particular if you are taking away a person's ability to make a critical distinction like the one between sickness and health, that can indicate a pretty dangerous situation. For another, even more obvious example, if you're in a relationship where someone is creating ambiguity around words like "yes" and "no", and inventing all kinds of subtext and context for your words, you're in trouble.

Of course, misunderstanding happens for all kinds of innocent reasons too. People don't listen that well, they don't read that well, they are just waiting for their turn to talk, they're angry and they don't think about what they're really hearing or saying, they are full of subconscious projections, they assume they know what you're talking about without reviewing your whole statement and then they just make their usual foregone conclusions. They have some narrative in mind, often a more optimistic one than whatever you are struggling to describe, and they'll contradict you with this attitude like they're doing you a big favor (like they're not kind of calling you a liar). It's incredibly frightening to be misunderstood. It's like one of those nightmares where you're running away in slow motion, or more aptly you try to scream but nothing comes out. I'm 100% sure this is why I'm so obsessed with language: I think that if I can just figure out how to say things that are always understood, then I will be able to save myself from danger.

But this fear makes me take things seriously when I shouldn't. The internet can help you find your people and it can show and teach you things you didn't know about before, but every time you say anything online, to friends or strangers, you create limitless opportunities to be misunderstood in ways that you have never dreamed possible. It is so hard for me not to correct people. I KNOW that it is not important for internet randos to understand me. I also KNOW that most people still won't understand me even if I correct them. But it is SO HARD not to say "That's not what I said" or "That's exactly what I already said" or "You're making an assumption that isn't based on anything and is also not true" or "I didn't ask" or "That's not even what I was talking about." I KNOW it doesn't matter, and that if I dig in with someone, I am likely to become MORE FRUSTRATED. But when I don't correct the person, this DANGER light goes on in my brain and all day long I have this anxious feeling like I forgot to do something important, like I left the oven on or something, and I had better go back and fix the problem OR ELSE. It's easy to decide intellectually that not everyone's opinions and perceptions matter, and it is obvious that misunderstanding is a common problem that you can never eliminate completely, so the only thing to do is ignore the situation and keep living your life. But if only ignoring the situation were not so emotionally loaded, it would be a lot easier to steer clear of making bad situations worse.

Another option is to just stop saying things altogether, and this is actually an appealing possibility. Unfortunately it comes with just as much emotional difficulty as the fruitless struggle to make oneself understood.

22 notes · View notes

deviantartdramahub · 5 months ago

Note

A little while ago, I made a group for the creatively-minded to interact amongst one another. In this group, me and six other people in charge are responsible for peacekeeping.

Someone came by the group recently. I have no doubt in my mind they had come to vent. They asked me "your rules are incomplete."

"what do you mean?"

"For starters, what is your opinion on the following people: terrorists, deviants, satanists, Axis power fanatics, thieves, slanderers, witch hunters, racists, ableists, cultists, over-exposers, and ban evaders?"

I answered like I was the person in charge here… "ban evaders are judged based on the ban's contextual honesty and whether the position of the banner is well-earned, the first and fourth would be judged for their advocacy of danger to peoples' well-being along with the verifiability/honesty/dishonesty of what they're pushing and whether it's all defensive, racists and ableists would be cast out based on the connections they're impeding for people, witch hunters and slanderers would be reminded that protocol exists lest they leave, thieves and people who expose sensitive material would be treated like any violators of intellectual property with the former being reported only by the victim in question and being vetted for the reasoning of their actions, nothing will happen to peaceful Satanists or cultists because sometimes a group is just a group, and the Cyber Reception Room has a protocol for the remaining people that one should feel is necessary."

"And what about BloodyRipperBeast, the current and most longstanding boyfriend of similarly-aged Triagonal who is even alongside him in some visual pieces and can vouch for her identity?" I can see a change of expression from the person who I was speaking to, as they cited (with every investigation by the group concluding these were untrue works of slander) at https://archive.ph/JXX6H and https://archive.ph/DQ2eL which is what https://archive.ph/d1lxJ talks about, the first one is actually kind of hypocritical for calling something shit when it admits its own message is hearsay. The guy they refer to was a regular in my group.

"There's https://files.catbox.moe/xt1zar.png if you don't believe me. This is the kind of pillaging I was taught to beware."

"Surrender him to us. Do it. Or else."

"I would rather the group be martyred than live long enough to become the villain."

"So be it."

They left, and I thought that would be the end of them, but the next day, they came with a force inflated to include five hundred and raided the group, forcing it down. My group, the Art Mart group, is now gone. What a bonkers system, it reminds me of the historical drama at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vn7-Zles-W0 but at least the people here are romantically secure.

Albeit while giving them a chance to speak their case, we firmly and adequately stand against such crusaders.

11 notes · View notes

zenia62 · 6 days ago

Text

Letters From Schimmelpenninck to Daendels (Part 2)

Hey guys, this is part 2 of Rutger Jan Schimmelpenninck letters to Daendels. As usual, translation might not be too accurate as I'm only using google translate 🙏

4th Letter :

Schimmelpenninck to Daendels. Paris, 24 June 1799. Even before receiving your letter of the 14th of this month, my dear General, I was informed of the mishap regarding the recruitment effort, and I, as well as the ordonnateur Blanchard, had already informed General Dupont, as you suggested in your letter. However, the minister did not attach much significance to it, realizing it was necessary to prevent any negative impressions. The pressure of current affairs and the distance made it impossible for me to accurately grasp the internal nuances, which explains why my responses are sometimes less detailed than you might desire.

At this moment, given the ongoing events here, the spirit in our homeland appears firm. Through the unity of all honest and loyal individuals and the deployment of a sound statecraft founded on principles of loyalty and energy, the Fatherland seems prepared to be shielded from new disturbances. Those who, approximately a year ago, lost authority and influence in public matters will now perhaps envision their upcoming defeat looming on the horizon.

Meanwhile, I believe they will be deceived in their expectations if well-meaning patriots adopt a united and firm stance. It is now the time to show loyalty to republican principles, to fulfill all obligations as loyal allies, and to ensure no one dares interfere in the internal governance of the law. This is the tone I assume here with the utmost modesty yet firmness. I am already seeing positive effects. The true purpose of recent events here cannot yet be determined with certainty. The objectives, however, seem to have been pure in intention among those most significantly involved.

I must also mention the brave Joubert. This honest and respectable man remains true to himself. He seeks no devious gains for himself in matters concerning our country, our government, or in general affairs. Of you and all others involved in our recent revolution, he has consistently held a favorable opinion. I wish he could stay here to lead the armed forces, but he is soon departing to command the army in Italy, while it seems Moreau will command that on the Danube.

I foresee, in the newly emerging newspapers, continuous attacks on the present Batavian Government. All denunciations will be revived with renewed vigor. It will be very necessary to engage in a press war to counter these attacks. My dear friend, you must occasionally provide facts to refute slander; let our friend Rouget assist in this effort. It will be highly necessary. The Directory is now, except for Barras, entirely new; likely all ministers will also be replaced. Talleyrand might head to Berlin. All this is entirely new to me.

I am very pleased with the choice of Besier. I hope you will consult with him frequently; he has excellent judgment, sees matters broadly, is not swayed by petty motives, and understands the nature of the revolution in its entirety. I was pleased to read your letter to Dupont; you have handled it well. Receive the assurance of my sincere respect and friendship. R. J. Schimmelpenninck

5th Letter :

Schimmelpenninck to Daendels. Paris, 28 June 1799. I have little to write to you, my dear General, for this time. It seems to me that the restoration of harmony here between the present Directory and a legislative body will soon result in unanimous and very effective measures, from which the best military successes can shortly be expected.

As for the course of events concerning the interior of this Republic, I cannot yet form a solid judgment. I must first observe what effect the independent press and the anticipated resurgence of the clubs will have. Meanwhile, as foreseen, denunciations have begun against the Batavian Government and the legislative body, specifically regarding the consequences of 12 June 1798, with renewed anger and cunning aimed at recapturing ground. Already, a formal memorandum containing a proposal (as it is called) has been submitted to achieve the necessary reforms within the Batavian Republic. This, as you can understand, essentially seeks to bring matters back to the state they were in before 12 June 1798, and so on. You naturally understand that I focus all my attention on this issue here. Let them also remain attentive to all movements; let all honest people unite; let all minor miserable entanglements between the members of the two chambers, and between them and the government (if there are such entanglements), come to an end; let them come together and unite—then I see no reason why their intrigues cannot be thwarted. However, without decisiveness and generous unity, I consider the matter very concerning.

I am also writing about this to the government, as well as to a few other friends in The Hague. Receive from us all warm greetings and assurances of my highest regard and sincere friendship. R. J. Schimmelpenninck

6th Letter :

Schimmelpenninck to Daendels. 4 July 1799. The affairs, my dear General, are taking a very concerning turn here. The recent explosion that occurred here seemed to point toward a good direction in its origin. Yet I doubt whether those who were in charge at the time have remained in control of the situation. Here, new zeal and strength are being directed against the current order of affairs in our homeland. Entirely elaborated projects aimed at its overthrow have been submitted. I observe that these leave a very strong impression.

The appointment of Fouché (from Nantes) instead of Lombard deserves your double attention. Fouché is a close friend of Brune. I do not know how he stands with Brune; I hope well.

I am assured that Fouché has good and amicable instructions to carry with him, but that means little to me. I am firmly convinced that they aim here for a reversal of affairs—perhaps they will succeed in doing so. I will make every effort on my side to prevent it. But one can do little when, as one says, the will is not there. Only a firm determination to agree on all that matters; on all that pertains to the country's interests; on all that is necessary to preserve the current order of affairs, can help.

I am also writing on this to several members of the legislative body to press upon them the importance of unity. As a government, legislative body, and military authority, if they do not draw a clear line, I see great difficulty—otherwise, insurmountable. Do your best, my dear friend, to work toward this goal. Everything is lost without this unity. Bernadotte has been appointed Minister of War. There is no major news about the armies and fleets. Burn this letter after reading. Heil, friendship, and respect. R. J.

7th Letter :

Schimmelpenninck to Daendels. Paris, 7 July 1799. Fouché de Nantes, my dear General, departed this morning as ambassador of this Republic to The Hague. He will thus only briefly remain in the vicinity after receiving this letter on-site.

His arrival will inevitably cause unease among many. He paid me a visit, and I spoke extensively with him about our country; I believe with much benefit and effect. He assured me that he had no instructions or directives to interfere with the government or to overturn this order of affairs. His mission was solely to unite the honest and sincere patriots. Whether this can be achieved remains to be seen. Furthermore, he declared—and this was his sacred principle—that the independence of our country must be respected more than ever.

He would never act contrary to this. He understood that the French government must absolutely refrain from the oppressive system imposed on the allied republics. Instead, he would insist on deploying every possible energy against the common enemy; and when goodwill is shown, our independence will be more firmly established and respected than ever, solidified through the ties between the two republics, in a manner befitting two independent nations, becoming more consolidated with each passing day.

Furthermore, I can inform you that he has been particularly recommended to you—by both Talleyrand and Joubert, with whom he appears to have a very good relationship. With Brune, as far as I can ascertain, he is currently not on friendly terms. At least, this is what he conveys; however, caution is paramount in this important matter. The members of the Directory confirm to me that he carries nothing but amicable instructions.

I also reiterate what I wrote in my previous letters. If divisions and rifts can be prevented in our Republic among the reasonable and true republicans—if people can agree on a decisive and unified approach, and all distrust can be cast aside, then I believe the country can be freed from a new shock, and its independence can be preserved. If, unfortunately, this proves impossible and everything devolves into division and faction, then I foresee the explosion as inevitable. The intriguers openly declare here that they are counting on it.

The consequences of the recent revolution are still incalculable. It remains precarious—and unless one prevents another such event, I foresee developments of an extremely concerning nature arising shortly. Heil and friendship. R. J.

It's interesting that on the 6th letter Rutger told Daendels to burn the letter once he's done reading 🤔 But I guess Daendels didn't do what Rutger said haha 😆 I wonder why Daendels didn't burn the letter tho 😶 Also I love how Rutger addressed Daendels w "My dear general" like idk why that sounded a little romantic 🫢 maybe I'm js overreacting. Anyways, thank you guys n have a great day, stay safe 🌙

#daendels #napoleonic era #napoleonic wars #french #french history #napoleon’s marshals #history #dutch #dutch history #rutger jan schimmelpenninck #letters #talleyrand #charles maurice de talleyrand #joubert #joseph fouché #fouche #patriots

5 notes · View notes

coconox · 1 year ago

Text

rambling abt nocti (again)

long post, just to let out my delulu thoughts

warnings: sands of wrath spoilers, cerberus event spoilers, nsfw near the 2nd half of the post, cerberus!skk x nocti (oc x canon), lots of hc, no proofread, i wrote this all on my phone i'm desperate to scream into the void about all this

it's pretty noticeable how nocti acts like he's more human compared to the other constructs he's worked with. he only brings up the fact that he is a construct if he wants to intimidate someone desperately negotiate with someone, but otherwise everyone treats him like he's just some guy and he totally rolls with it. it's been mentioned a few times how he heavily pants, which is something completely unnecessary for constructs to do, but it feels natural for him. huzi mentions how the way he passes knives is something that was only remembered in the golden age, in which nocti shrugs it off saying it's just a natural instinct (even tho that kind of basic information seems long gone at this point)

he cares about people a lot more than what he tells them. there's been both er5 and cerby event where someone gets roped into some mess he (+ sometimes cerberus) is in and wants to help them even tho there has been a few arguments between him and vera on whether or not the person should be left alone. the person also almost ends up dying and nocti franctically tries to find a way to delay or stop their inevitable death. i'm suspecting that the cerby event does take place some time after er5, since he did eventually learn how to provide a bit of first aid through finally observing vera on how she does it

he also cares a lot about his team despite all the slander thrown at him. he was willing to shift the blame onto himself during 21's incident or concerningly asks if vera's sick (even tho constructs can't get sick, again emphasizing how nocti reacts a bit more like how a human reacts)

when off-duty, to get away from 21 and vera, nocti would probably chill a lot in coco's room office. they don't mind the company since all nocti does 70% of the time is sleep, the other 30% is complain on how bored he is or he just straight up does his workout in their office

as much as he shits on bad movies, he loves them. coco doesn't mind if nocti starts playing some movie in the background while they're working, and might even join in on watching it with nocti after they're done with work

once it became established that coco has a sweet tooth, nocti wouldn't stop giving them new receipes he's found in wgaa archives. not that they're complaining, it's free food, and nocti is surprisingly good at baking despite being an idiot outside of things he's genuinely good at

taking note of the first point mentioned, if a makeout session happens between him and coco, he will ocassionally break it not just for them to take a breather, but he also takes a breather as well. even tho it's absolutely not necessary considering he's a construct, it just feels natural for him to do so

because all coco does is focus on work, nocti does crave some attention from his commandant. a lot of times they just ignore nocti's sad puppy eyes of wanting affection, and he ends up moping around till coco's done. if coco does eventually give in while they're working, nocti both mildly regrets it and heavily enjoys it as coco teases and edges the living daylights out of him. he got the attention he's been asking for, but at what cost?

nocti can either be extremely gentle during sex, or go extremely feral about it. he wants to be as careful as possible knowing how fragile humans are, but in the end he would always lose control of himself, constantly trying to chase after the high of how good it feels being inside his commandant

loves marking them, he often feels the need to mark them even tho it's not really necessary, they are cerberus's commandant after all. but nocti wants to make it clear that they're his and his alone. but often feels a little bad after noticing how deep of a mark he imprinted onto them, since bite marks would be so deep they end up bleeding a little

loves eating out, to the point where he's pussydrunk even. there's times where he would desperately ask if he could eat coco out while they're working, to which they normally reply with no, but there have been a few exceptions

he goes absolutely insane when he's praised. it's not everyday he gets to hear he's done a good job, but when he gets praises from his commandant, it's like he's on cloud nine. in normal circumstances he doesn't know how to react to praise, he's often confused since for most of his life he's always gotten the bad end of the stick. but when he's intimate with his commandant, getting praised is another high he'll constantly be going after. the soft expression coco gives while gently caressing him, whispering sweet nothings over and over again is something nocti will never have enough of

nocti goes all out for aftercare. he'll be adamant about cooking for them all day and would help tend to easing any pain they're feeling. he'll also take the time to cuddle with them all day and refuses to get up unless they tell him to

nocti will always be the one to initiate any romantic gestures first, and often would be thrown off guard if coco would decide to be the one to initiate first

he gets very overprotective, basically becoming a guard dog for his commandant

#im so normal abt him #ill definitely have more to say but this has been in my brain for a while and i needed to let it all out before i explode #the voices fr got to me #fbj rambles #pgr oc #pgr commandant #pgr noctis #pgr #my ocs :]

23 notes · View notes

galedekarios · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, you may have already talked about it but I love drows and Altonaufein is such an interesting character. Fun fact, I got the game a little bit later than everybody and for, like, a day or two, I thought he was an actual NPC or maybe a companion lol. Anyway, I'd love to read your thoughts about him! (or maybe I just feel some kind of kindship since my OC is also a drow with a lot of issues and an ongoing crush on Gale.

thank you so much for your lovely message and your kind words about altonaufein! i was really blown away when i saw your message. (((': i'm also super happy to find another drow player. i'd be super interested to hear more about your oc as well, if you feel comfortable sharing!

i'm very it took so long to answer, i just always draw a blank when i'm asked about my ocs, even though i love them and lot and probably have an entire library of lore inside of head about them.

i did manage to write up a bit about altonaufein, though! i've had his character for a very long time. he was originally intended for icewind dale 2, but then baldur's gate 3 was announced and i decided to try and translate his character into the game and was pleasantly surprised by how well it worked!

born in ust-natha, altonaufein is the third child--but the first son--of a small but prestigious house of a long line of clerics and devoted worshippers of lolth.

at a young age, altonaufein had a very cautious and gentle nature to him, showing signs of great magical and spellcasting talent. these talents were decided to be nurtured in the service of lolth--even if altonaufein was only a male, it stood to reason that he might still become a passable asset and tool for his house, if little else.

his life took a turn for the worse when he began to see a bright silver moon in his trances, heard the sweet melody of a lyre, saw a dark dancer in a sky he'd never seen. foolishly, naively, altonaufein told another of his house--his sister iraeae, who he had once been close to--about his strange dreams, his visions. his trust was misplaced and he was severely punished in hopes of correcting him, driving those visions from his mind, to not bring shame to his house any further. after this, altonaufein began to ignore his dreams and, consequently, unknowingly, eilistraee’s call.

he was initiated to become part of the clergy to lolth by the trial of strength: if he failed, he would become a sacrifice. if he succeeded, it would bring lolth's favour to his family--either way, he would not be a waste to his house.

altonaufein survived the trial, barely. though, with what was to come, he sometimes wishes he hadn't.

iraeae, at the same time as him, undertook her own trial of lolth:

chwidevbrii, or the test of betrayal. it's a punishment that strikes particularly deep. trust is a distasteful concept to drow, though they understand that sometimes it does happen and is even necessary to survive. to rid themselves of this, to succeed this test, the drow must betray someone who has garnered her trust or in whom she has placed her trust. mentors, teachers, leaders, friends, family. as long as there has been a solid connection of dependence made in the past.

the drow must utterly destroy her victim in a way that allows her to advance in some manner. the method is not important: blackmail, slander, torture... magic. in the end, the victim must die or be thoroughly disgraced and dominated. usually, the victim is murdered by the drow herself, commits suicide, or is killed as a result of the drow's action. so what better way to show to her goddess that she is a true drow, that she is worthy, what better way than to serve the house, than humiliating and dominating someone who was once a little brother.

drow females are able to dominate the mind of any chosen male with but a spell and one such spell was cast on altonaufein, and iraeae triumphed in her trial. a victim of inter-house politics as so many others before him, he was left as little but a thrall, serving in a many different ways.

he was there, under that spell, until it broke: iraeae dead by her older sister nadriina's hand--betrayed just like altonaufein had been by her. altonaufein doesn't remember how long it lasted, remembers only parts of it. the many hands. the pain. he remembers fighting. other drow. other prisoners. the surface. running. the moon. fever.

altonaufein escaped to the surface in a haze, he wandering aimlessly before all the strength went out of him and he collapsed. yet eilistraee must have guided, must have protected him, once more, as she tried to, so long ago: he had collapsed near a small settlement around a small church of ilmater, the god of compassion and healing, of mercy and atonement. they took altonaufein in because they deny no one in need of their help, not even a drow.

he was taken in and nursed back to health over the course of many months by a follower, living at the temple: an ex-soldier, a deserter, by the name of karl. they formed a deep bond, despite their differences--or perhaps because of them-- and despite altonaufein's initial distrust.

once recovered, altonaufein hacked off his long hair, so many issues, so many bad memories, tied to it.

still, he came to see what happened as a chance he doesn't think he deserves: to start anew, to help, to learn how he could be more than simply a honed weapon made for killing. he offered his services to the small settlement and the temple, even if ilmater is not the god he prays to.

he helped everywhere he could in any way he could, ignoring the whispers that followed him, his own intrusive thoughts, his episodes, triggered by too sudden movements, unexpected brushes his body or mind.

altonaufein helped to tend to the crops, helped with the harvest, repaired walls and fences, treated wounds and healed. he would earn their trust, prove himself.

the one person who stood by his side through it was karl.

karl, who, after his abduction on the nautiloid remains his guardian as he been so many moons before, swearing to protect him once more:

🖤

it's bit by bit that he learns to accept himself for who he is, what he is. his heritage, his past, his future, his new faith.

he gets to heal on this journey and find peace.

i'm sorry this got so long and ramble-y, but he's my special boy. (((': thanks again so much for asking about him!!!

#picniclightnings #ch: altonaufein #ch: karl eifers #otp: battered and wrecked i come to you first #vg: baldur's gate 3 #series: baldur's gate #text: asks #text: personal #meta: mybg3

21 notes · View notes

rayshippouuchiha · 2 years ago

Note

*rolls up sleeves* buckle in peeps, this is gonna be long. as promised, pics of all the yarn at and related things to it! Also Ray, fellow void, if you want anything in particular, just holler at me. 👍First the wips!

From left to right: pillow cover in checkerboard stitch using bulky super wash merino wool (cause I wanted to try something new) blanket for stepdad in bamboo stitch with acrylic yarn blanket for mom in broken rib stitch ( I wanna have this done by mother's day but I dunno yet), also in acrylic,and place mat for a friend in basic garter stitch, again in acrylic.

Next is completed stuff!

From left to right: scarf in stockinette stitch for my sis, who likes it despite me being a picky bitch about how it got out of control and definitely not what I intended, argh. Also it's hard to see, but there's beads in there as well. 2nd pic is headband (need to seam the ends together actually), and 2 dishcloths (the holes are intentional on the blue one, since I knitted that diagonally). Then dishtowel in woven stitch, potholders in.. I think I did moss stitch on those. And a facecloth in sand stitch. Then dishtowel in 2x2 rib stitch. I don't remember what I did for the dishcloths, but I DO remember kicking myself cause if I'd thought of it earlier I could've put beads in the pink part to make them watermelon-themed! All of the kitchen-type items were made from cotton/cotton blends. I also have another stack of completed kitchen-type stuff for relatives and friends, but I don't have pics of them at the moment.

Last but not least, the yarn hoard! The stack of 5 cakes was the recent order that was on sale and will eventually become a blanket for my sis. The small tubs are super wash merino wool skeins, they will become various things once I figure out exactly what I wanna make. 🤷‍♀️ so many ideas and patterns, and I'm so indecisive, augh. The tub beneath it is acrylic/acrylic blends, then there's the cotton/cotton blends with a needle case full of spare needles. Last tub is regular wool that was a gift from my mom, a sick kit, and yarn that's was a gift from a nurse I work with (she crochets!) who received it from someone and didn't know what to do with it, asked if I wanted it, and said if i couldn't/didn't want to use it, I could always pass it along as well. And then there's the little roller shelf cart that I keep by my chair so I can organize things while I work on them, and a hat kit! Which I will attempt at some point once I finally get the hang of knitting in the round! Which is supposed to be easy but my fingers don't like to cooperate sometimes! 😒 there are some people who may say that all that yarn isn't necessary, that I may have a problem. To which I say lies and slander and I DON'T have a problem I can stop anytime I want, really. <.<; I was always an arts and crafts kid anyway, this is just...a bigger version of that and I get to make useful things! 😀

Babe!!! Babe!!! you've got so many gorgeous projects going on and so much gorgeous yarn in stock!!

Seriously the color choices you're throwing down are superb!! Everything looks so fucking good!!

And the completed stuff!?! Seriously fantastic too. And I agree with the watermelon thing. They turned out great as is but they would have been beyond cute with the beads in !! Hey that's always something you can go for next time.

I love seeing your art like this because you're doing so good!!

#RayRambles #yarn art #long post

34 notes · View notes

my-soul-void · 8 months ago

Text

- Nana Mikazuki (Kannushi)

- 14 years at the time of application and 174 after

- She is completely black and white, she wears appropriate clothes. He wears a 20 cm high geta and a yukata with cutouts from the hips on both sides. She is a priestess/The Kannusi are in their village and outwardly strongly resemble their god. He wears a pendant, a symbol of their god.

- Character.

She is straightforward and sometimes unpredictable: at one moment she behaves like a child, touching a cute animal, and at another she maniacally watches a brutal murder or sits emotionally under a tree. She is distrustful of strangers, even if she may not show it outwardly. She takes a responsible approach to tasks, even though she is lazy. He takes care of the village in which he lives and its indigenous inhabitants, throwing aside unnamed tourists and visitors if they are of no use or a group of residents has not stood up for them. She is calculating and greedy, but she knows how to share. When it comes to her religion, she can talk about it for hours, attracting more and more people, and becomes aggressive when slandering her god. If necessary, he wears emotional masks.

- Biography.

She was born in a village that was obsessed with the religion of her own God, and served faithfully in the temple since childhood. Her parents were the same as other residents – believers and working for the benefit of the village. At the age of 14, she was turned into a demon and stayed in a wild state for several months, almost none of the indigenous people died in the village, she instinctively did not touch them, preferring visitors, who were many at that time – the village was famous for an unusual temple, a variety of herbs and numerous root crops. Then she regaled her companions outside the village. After a while, she returned to the village, where she was graciously welcomed, recognizing and accepting her transformation as a gift from God, the favor of their god and her choice as an ambassador of his will. So she became a priestess and the main Kannushi in their village. After that, faith became even stronger, Nana continued to feed on people, but exclusively outsiders or faulty blasphemers, she took care of the village in exchange for God's faith and devotion not only to the village and God, but also to herself. Over time, she began to practice her blood magic and improve regeneration, as it is strongly interconnected with her.

- Height – 140 cm. (with 160 shoes), weight – 44 kg.

- Blood magic.

She is capable of using her blood /body part/ other bio-material to create a monster that completely obeys her. The bigger, smarter and stronger the monster, the more resources it takes to create it.

An omen

Creates living objects with the help of his blood/flesh. The more material is invested, the longer they live (for example, an umbrella, furniture and dishes with eyes and mouths or ears). If they are not disturbed, they do not show their animals

God's Servants

With the help of blood / body parts, he can create monsters, the type and characteristics of which depend on the strength of the creator and the amount of material invested.

God's messengers.

With the help of blood and her severed hand, she will create a huge monster with individual characteristics that will fulfill the set decree. You can defeat him by piercing through the core of his existence, most often it is in the chest, less often in the head, but there are exceptions.

God's blessing

If her blood gets on a living being, if that person's will is weaker than Nana's, she can subdue him. However, the victim can wake up or be brought out of this state, provided that the trigger is affected (with a sufficient level of will) . It is possible that the appearance will also change a little, become less human (depending on the characteristics of the victim and his will), if control disappears, he will return to his normal state

- Weapons.

He wears two simple silver daggers under his clothes for self-defense.

#demon oc #demon girl #art #oc artwork #demon slayer

5 notes · View notes

acourtofthought · 2 years ago

Note

This is you blog at the end of the day, and if you use it to rant then so be it! No apologies necessary 🫶🏾

I think you know how much I appreciate your analysis, and I know others do to. I have literally never encountered such vitriol like that which e/riels throw at us so adrenaline justified! I would say it’s going to feel so nice once elucien and Gwynriel are confirmed (I mean obvi it will for us shippers) but tbh I think we’re going to see a lot of terrible takes which slander SJM for it…as if the building blocks aren’t glaringly obviously there. That’s my long-winded way of saying, I think down the line you’ll be glad to have these posts which show elucien has been in motion!

I hope you have a lovely time at the Christmas lights!! I’m looking forward to Christmas, but the gifts I got for my family may come late :( still, my brother is coming home today so I’m happy about that!

🧼💖

Thank you for that 🥰 I know most Elucien's and Gwynriel's prefer a drama free feed so I don't mean to add discourse to it but certain bloggers can be extremely frustrating sometimes! I am so hopeful SJM will confirm Elucien / Gwynriel someday soon. Mostly because I think they both will make such complimentary pairings but I do have to say, there's this little evil side to me that's crept up during my time in this fandom that wants the chance to prove to the Anti's that we knew what we were talking about all along 😂 I tried to do my shopping early on so I didn't run into delayed deliveries though one of my gifts is going to be late. I'm really sorry you're dealing with that too. Honestly, maybe it will be exciting for them to get something after the holidays when all the "fun" is over. It's something for them to look forward to! Enjoy your time with your brother! Are you two close in age?

2 notes · View notes

joylinda-hawks · 1 year ago

Text

I complain a little about legal issues, only general ones. Legally speaking, one defamation case is not equal to another defamation case. The discrepancy between cases in which a person's reputation has been damaged can be huge. I will explain with an example. A famous person – an actor/celebrity – was defamed by a group of people writing slander on social media. This is a typical example. This person's lawyers collect evidence, secure it and finally hand it over to the police. The police easily identify perpetrators of crimes by name and surname. These are people who were paid to spread slander or did so of their own free will. Most often, they are surprised that the justice system works so quickly and that they have to stand trial for what they have done. Then such a process is not very long - it may take a year or not much more. Everything will depend on whether these people appeal against the court's verdict. This is the first simplest example. The second one, more complicated in terms of evidence, is a situation when a specific organization is behind the slander: an association, foundation, company. Generally, a shortcut is used: the organization is liable for slander, but in fact only the person is liable in a criminal case. Therefore, in such a case, it is necessary to determine specifically who has committed the crime of defamation by name. Sometimes it is not that simple, especially if there is a lot of money behind the organization. It cannot be denied that in every institution there are people who can be corrupted using money or blackmail. It is similar in the police and justice system. These are not frequent cases, but they do happen. They may involve, for example, withholding evidence or otherwise prolonging the proceedings. Therefore, such matters should be conducted under special supervision. And this is the second case we have in connection with the ZZH situation. The criminal organization will do everything to: firstly, delay the proceedings in the ZZH case, and secondly: destroy ZZH's name even more so that he becomes unreliable in court. They cannot officially operate in CN because it would be easy to bring charges against them later, and for their criminal activities they use countries where pursuing justice within the framework of international cooperation is very difficult and long-lasting. It is difficult not to notice that some people supporting the gang of fraudsters and being CN citizens have somehow stopped engaging in the gang's activities. This may indicate that the ZZH case is slowly moving forward and the criminals want to cover their tracks.

#zhang zhehan

1 note · View note

httpiastri · 1 year ago

Text

crash into me – pa1

being forced to share a room with paul, your enemy, in spa makes you discover new feelings for him.

genre: fluff, touches of angst? enemies to lovers!au, one bed!au

pairing: reader x paul aron

warnings: mentions of death, crashing... i think that's about it

word count: 7.3k (how did that happen....)

requested: yes !!

author's note: writing this was 110% self indulgent (did i use that term right), i loved it. maybe because i love paul.... felt weird to write about dino though shdkfhdkfj he feels like my swedish little brother in some way? anyways! i haven't ever written enemies to lovers i think, so this was interesting. i honestly don't know how it got this long, my longest fic on here by a loooot. hope you enjoy, and thank you for requesting!

also, lowkey a spoiler but i got paul the feature podium that he deserved in belgium <3 this fic contains subtle backhanded prema slander, sorry not sorry

f2/f3 masterlist

you and paul have been enemies for as long as you can remember.

it all started back in karting, in your first race against each other. you were racing in karts on a circuit in france, and practically no one had any grip in the rain. during your last lap of qualifying, you and paul had been side by side when you lost control of the kart, resulting in you swerving into the barriers, taking paul with you.

when you got out of your kart, you wanted to apologize to paul – but he had already stormed off. you thought nothing more of it, seeing it as just an incident – but apparently, he didn't feel the same way. in the actual race the day after, paul took you out in the first corner as revenge.

safe to say, you both loathed each other before the end of the weekend.

as the years went on and you two continued driving in the same categories, the hatred between you two grew. there have been multiple occasions where one of you broke the rules to mess up a race for the other, sometimes even going as far as crashing into each other on purpose. needless to say, neither one of your teams, managers or engineers were especially supportive of your childish actions.

it didn't matter if it was in karting or when you both started racing in formula cars; you never really grew out of the feud. with you being a member of the ferrari driver academy and paul joining the mercedes juniors in 2020, the rivalry only grew over the years. both of you had a massive need to be the better one; it wasn't important to beat the other drivers on the track, only each other.

maybe this competitiveness was the reason one of you two would always be the winner of pretty much any race you took part of. unless you both crashed, that is. if one of you had been much better than the other, if it had been easy to tell who the best one actually was, then maybe you would've just stopped several years ago. your determination to crush each other made you better drivers, and your closeness on track was probably what made the rivalry so strong.

when you got the news that you would be joining prema in 2023, you were over the moon. but when it was revealed that one of your teammates would be none other than paul aron, you were horrified to say the least. and so was he.

the two of you were forced to act nice in front of the cameras and the fans. you had to give each other congratulatory handshakes when either of you ended up on the podium, and you had to act polite in team meetings, but you never spoke more than necessary to each other.

on top of that, the prema team managers made it very clear that if you were to purposefully cause a crash with each other, both of you would be replaced on an instant. the team could not afford to have two immature idiots ruin the team over something that started back when they were children.

you'd both managed to stay civil for most of the season, not being pushed or forced together too much. in prema videos, you would never be paired up, and you would rarely be seen together at any other times. but this was all about to change when it was time for the next round in belgium.

as usual, the team had booked rooms for all their drivers at one of the hotels near the track. being the only female driver in the f2/f3 prema team, you usually got a room for yourself, and so you were told it would be this weekend too. as you check in on thursday, get your key card and make your way up to your room, you can't wait to throw yourself onto the bed and catch up on some of the sleep you missed getting ready for your early flight this morning. but your mood instantly changes when you see someone standing right outside the room with your number on it.

not just anyone; paul aron.

he's blipping a key onto the door when you step closer, a frown taking over your face. "i'm pretty sure this is my room," you tell him.

"what?" the light on the door flashes green as he looks up at you, just as confused as you. "pretty sure it's mine."

"it literally says 782 right here." you show him the paper cover you've gotten for your key, but he just pushes the handle down and lets the door swing open. when he's about to step inside, you pull him back by his shoulder, dragging the door closed again. "let me try..." you pull out your own key, holding it against the door – and the light blinks green again.

"there's no way," paul mutters. he seems frozen in his place, just staring at the door as you push it open.

you tell yourself that maybe it isn't as bad as it looks, maybe there are two rooms in one? or maybe there's some kind of wall separating your beds?

but when you enter the room, you realize that it's even worse than you'd feared. there's just one king size bed. no other single bed, not even a couch.

"there's no way."

"there's been a massive mistake," you tell the lady at the hotel desk once you make it down again. you drop your bags next to you with a thud, feeling sore after having carried them for way too long now. "i'm here with the racing team prema. i was placed in the same room as another driver, but we were supposed to be in separate ones."

"let me have a look," she answers, looking down in her computer. "may i have your room number, please?"

"782." paul's voice surprises you; you thought he stayed upstairs, but suddenly he's right next to you again. you had told him that you'd never share a room with him, let alone a bed, so you would do anything to get yourself out of the situation. you just assumed he wouldn't even care enough to help.

the smattering of the lady's nails against her keyboard fills the otherwise silent lobby as you patiently wait. you don't even shoot paul a look. "i'm very sorry," she starts, still typing away on her computer. "it seems like there's been some kind of mistake in the booking."

you try to put on an understanding smile. "that's alright. do you have any other rooms available? any room will do."

the lady finally looks up at you both, an apologetic look on her face. "unfortunately, we're fully booked. we always are during race weekends."

"you've got to be kidding me..." paul groans, his hands coming up to cover his face.

"i'm sure we can refund you for the mistake, but for now, we have no other rooms." the lady sighs before looking down in her computer again. "i'm sorry to say that there's nothing i can do for you at the moment. i hope you can manage to have a wonderful stay here anyway!"

wonderful? how could staying with paul possibly be anything other than horrendous?

your next step is to talk to all of the prema staff members you can find about the situation. you beg for their help to solve the issue, to let you switch rooms with someone – but they all think that you two sharing a room will be the perfect opportunity for you to get to know each other better.

this is going to be the worst weekend ever.

dino almost cries laughing when he hears about the whole room incident. as a best friend of both you and paul separately, he never understand how you could hate each other – you are both really cool people, so how does it make sense that neither of you like the other?

he's sitting in the single chair next to the desk, still quietly giggling even when you send him deathly glares, when you get to work on the soon-to-be wall in the middle of your bed. you've seen people build barriers out of pillows this in the movies a bunch of times, so you decided it will be the best way to keep paul on his side of the bed.

"is this really necessary?" paul asks. he's sitting on the edge of the bed but he's far too occupied with something on his phone to watch you, or help you. "i don't want to be near you either way so i'll stay put on my side."

"oh, it totally is necessary. i will not allow you to accidentally roll over to me in your sleep." dino laughs out loud at your comment, but he puts his hands up in the air as defense when you threaten to throw a pillow at him.

"i'll just sleep on the floor. we have plenty of pillows, and i think there was an extra blanket-"

you cut paul off. "there's no way i'm letting you sleep on the floor during a race weekend." as much as it hurt to admit, it wouldn't be cool to force him into something like that. he has, just like you, sacrificed to much to be in f3 and it would be cruel to rob him of one of these weekends.

besides, you want to beat him when he's at his best, not just because he hasn't slept in a few days.

dino speaks up, his eyes moving between the two of you. "oh, so you care about his racing? that's so sweet o-"

"i care about the team, not about him individually." your voice is stern as you finish placing the last few pillows.

"why are you talking about me as if i'm not here?" paul groans – for probably the hundredth time today – and throws himself back onto the bed. the crash makes the bed bounce and some of the so perfectly placed pillows fall down.

"hey, careful!" you scold, frowning as you start to rebuild the wall.

"can you two stop fighting for just a second?" dino says between giggles. "we need to go, our track walk is in like... five minutes."

"thank god, i really need to get out of here," paul says, standing up instantly and heading towards the door.

"that makes two of us," you mutter under your breath as you make some finishing touches on the wall. "this is going to be a long weekend..."

paul is surprisingly respectful all of the time you're both in the hotel room. he lets you shower first when you get back, and he makes sure to never step a foot in your side of the room. he even waits for you when you get ready for the team dinner to make sure the two of you leave together instead of just going off alone when he's done getting dressed. not that either of you say even a single word in the elevator down to the lobby.

when you think about it, you haven't actually spent a lot of time alone with him. there is always a third person on the podium, and there are always staff members around you during all meetings and such. it feels weird, to say the least, but... not as bad as you imagined?

by the time you're all sitting down in some restaurant nearby, the word about your rooming situation has spread to everyone. it's a great laugh, and the teasing seems like it will never stop. when the food is finally served, you're more relieved than ever to see food. thankfully, it fills everyone's mouths and stops them from talking so much.

when you finish dinner, you expect to just go back to your room, get some good sleep and prepare for tomorrow. but on your way to the car, angelina stops you and pulls you to the side along with paul.

"i've been talking to the other staff members," she starts. you raise your eyebrows at her – could this mean that they realized that this arrangement was awful after all? had they found a way to solve it? "and we decided that we're going to give you a task to make sure you actually talk to each other."

you let your shoulders slump, covering your face in your hands. until now, you'd thought that you would at least survive this if you just pretended that paul wasn't even there. but this could be the death of you.

the death of you both, apparently. because paul doesn't seem like he is enjoying the situation more than you. "shouldn't we focus on racing this weekend?" he says, trying to keep his voice as polite as possible, but you can practically see the steam blowing out of his ears.

"oh, you'll have a lot of time to focus on racing and still manage our tasks." angelina smiles at the two of you. "it won't take too long."

"what do we have to do?" you ask, looking up at her again.

"well, i made you these cards." she pulls out a couple of pieces of paper from her bag, holding them out to you. "they contain questions that you are going to ask each other to get to know each other. they should be answered in the order of the numbers written on them." she points to the corner of the top card, showing off the number one. "on monday, we will quiz you on what the other person has answered for these questions. so pay attention to each other!"

"well, that could've been worse," you say, almost as if to try to convince yourself that it's alright. paul looks at you with a frown, shaking his head at your words. you ignore him, reaching out to take the cards and place them in your purse. "i think it's best if i take these, no?"

"i think so too," angelina jokes, bringing a little smile to your lips.

paul doesn't as much as twitch, though. "are we done?"

the second she nods, paul storms off towards the other drivers again. angelina lets out a sigh, giving you a pat on your shoulder. "i'm sorry for this, but i really do think it's for the best. you might be teammates for a long time, so it's really not good for you to hate each other."

you nod, trying to see it from her perspective. chances are high that you and paul are going to work together a lot in the future, so it isn't smart to keep fighting just out of habit. plus, it must be hard for her and all of the other staff members to have to deal with you. but why was it so hard to just throw it all away, to just ignore it and make up with him?

"i hope you don't snore," you mumble as you sit down on your side of the bed, plugging your phone in to charge it.

"i hope i do."

you both agreed that you would get started on the questions tomorrow, being far too exhausted from the day to do it now. although it hasn't been a very physical day, the emotional roller coaster you experienced was enough to leave you completely worn out.

there are several things that make it hard to keep hating paul. one of them is how he actually seems like a decent and respectful person when he's around other people. but the worst of them all is,

paul has grown up to be extremely hot.

he was cute as a child, sure. but this was something new. you hated the way you could grow hot by just thinking about him, the way his pretty blonde curls framed his gorgeous face, the way his laughter could light up a whole room. and his body? his muscles? he looked like a god damn body builder, but not in an excessive way.

and now, those muscles and that face was lying just a meter away, only a couple of pillows separating you from each other. you hate it.

and you hate the fact that it's getting harder to hate him.

"are you ready to do this?" you ask, looking through your purse for the cards you'd gotten from angelina.

"as ready as i'll ever get," paul answers as he slumps down on his side of the bed.

after yet another long day, all you want to do was relax and focus on tomorrow. but you also don't want to procrastinate on your task or save it for the last possible minute.

paul seems distracted, as he has all day. he made a few mistakes in the qualifying session and only reached an eleventh place, which will be good for the sprint race but not as much for the feature. dino's seventh place looks better, and your third even more so, but something feels off about the whole thing. paul doesn't usually qualify that bad, especially not in these mixed conditions. but you decide not to push it or ask him about it.

"okay, question number one..." you sit down on the bed, holding up the first card to read the handwriting. "what's your favorite color?"

"wow, that's boring." he sighs. "i like blue, i guess."

"i'll say prema red, just so it's easier for you to remember." you put the card at the bottom of the pile, reading the next one. "when did you start racing?"

"i started karting when i was seven."

"i was six."

this is easier than you'd thought. "why did you start racing?"

"because my brother did it, i think. i wanted to be like him." he chuckles, shifting slightly on the bed.

you nod along to him. "my dad took me karting once, and i was hooked instantly. i guess he just wanted me to try and compete, to see if i actually had any chance..." you throw away the card, picking up the next one in the pile. "have you always enjoyed racing?"

paul thinks for a moment and then shrugs. "i mean, it's always fun. as long as someone doesn't crash into me for no reason." you roll your eyes but let him go on. "but there's a lot of pressure to do well, to perform..."

"totally," you say and cross your arms over your chest. "but i think that, besides the crashing and pressure, it's a lot of fun. and i enjoy it a lot."

you look over at him and he looks like he wants to add something, but then he just shakes his head. "go ahead."

you read the next card. "have your parents always been supportive of your racing?"

paul nods instantly. "yeah. both of mine and my brother's racing." he makes eye contact with you for what feels like the first time tonight. "and you? i haven't heard you talk about your parents a lot."

"well, it's..." you sigh. "complicated, i guess."

"how so?"

you take a deep breath. "i'm not sure if you know, but my dad races. or, he used to." you look down at your hands, taking notice of how they're already shaking slightly. "ever since he passed, my mom has been... i wouldn't say less supportive, but... she doesn't really want me to keep racing. i get what she means, it's a dangerous sport, but..."

the sudden change in the mood is surprising to paul; he didn't expect you to open up like this. he looks over at you, the concern clear in his eyes.

"i knew i couldn't not race. it's what i live for." you let out a sigh. "i also want to do it to honor him, you know?"

he nods, even though you aren't looking at him. he's unsure what to say, if he should try to comfort you or just let you speak. he has never cared about, or even thought of, your feelings like he does now.

you look up at the ceiling, blinking a couple of times to force back the tears threatening to spill at the thought of your dad. "i'm sorry, i don't know why i just said that," you say, letting out a laugh. "i'll think of another answer for you."

"don't worry about it." paul pauses for a moment, leaning back against the headboard of the bed. "i'm... really sorry you're going through that." when you look over at him, the look he gives you is sincere and kind. "your dad is watching you proudly from heaven, i'm sure."

hearing those words, it's like he's broken down all of your defenses. all of the walls you built these last years since your father's passing are torn down, all of the feelings you've worked so hard to push away come up in one second. you've mourned his death, of course, but you always make sure not to think about him too much during your racing weekends, since he passed from a crash on track, and since he was the reason you started racing in the first place. you couldn't allow your feelings affect you when you were competing. but to think about him watching you still, him being proud of you...

this time, you can't stop yourself from crying. a few single tears roll down your cheeks, but you turn your head away and wipe them away instantly, hoping paul doesn't see.

he pretends not to. "when did the questions get so serious, huh? are there no more questions about colors?" he tries to joke, hoping it will cheer up the mood a little.

he lets out a sigh of relief when he sees you chuckling, turning back to him when you're done cleaning away your tears. "i'll take a look."

for the first time ever, paul is kind towards you even when he doesn't need to. when you wake up the morning after, he seems to be in a good mood, chattering off about how excited he is for the race. he even tries to make some small talk about the rainy weather as you get dressed for breakfast, and although it feels weird, you join in. it's strange, but most certainly not awful – and you catch yourself thinking that you could get used to this.

sprint race means reverse starting grid, which is good for paul but less fun for you. he starts from the first row, while you are back in tenth place. while paul in the front has a good start, you get stuck in traffic in the first corner, losing several positions in just a couple of seconds. it doesn't take long before you are half a lap behind the leading cars, still fighting for space but getting caught behind several cars.

just as you feel like the track is drying up and that you have a good opportunity to make some overtakes, the only thing that isn't allowed to happen happens.

coming up to eau rouge, two cars a bit ahead of you have made contact, but you are unaware as you speed up the hill. from out of nowhere, a car hits your side, sending you flying into the wall.

paul hears the call about a crash over the radio instantly, but he doesn't think of it too much at first. he's waiting to hear about a safety car coming out when his engineer instead tells him that there's a red flag and that he must go back to the pits immediately.

paul realizes that it's worse than he expected and he instantly wonders about who could be involved in the crash. he isn't surprised when he rolls up to the famous corner and sees the random car parts on the ground – but his jaw drops when he sees the car that has crashed into the wall.

a horrible feeling spreads in his gut when he sees the red prema car with your number on it. out of all people, did it have to be you? "is she okay?" he asks over the radio, slowing down as he goes up the hill. when he doesn't get an answer, he repeats himself, his voice louder and more stern. "is she okay?!"

there's another pause on the radio, before someone answers him. "we're not sure, paul."

something in his body pulls him to do something he has never done before. he pulls his car over to the side before his shaky hands unbuckle his belt and take off his steering wheel. he can hear several staff members tell him over the radio that he shouldn't do what he's about to do, it's dangerous, he can-

he unplugs his earphones and jumps out of the car, sprinting over to you. he doesn't care if it's dangerous; he needs to make sure you're alright.

he doesn't really understand why he cares so much. maybe something happened in him when he heard you talk yesterday about your father; maybe he's just terrified because he doesn't want you to go meet the same fate.

when he reaches you, he crouches down to your level. "hey, are you okay?"

the impact of crashing into the wall in such high speeds made you hit your head on the side of the car. your entire field of vision is spinning, and you can't even comprehend who the person standing by your car is. in just a moment, everything turns black. your head slams forward onto your steering wheel as you pass out, and paul too feels like the world is crashing as he watches you.

he stands up again, waving for the marshals and medics to hurry up. he doesn't care that all of the prema staff will be furious with him for not following their orders, he doesn't care if it's dangerous for him to stay where he is. he only cares about you getting the help you need,

but he has no idea why.

the race never resumed after your crash, both because of how shaken up everyone got after seeing you get transported away in the ambulance, and because the cleaning of the track took too long and almost even delayed the f1 sprint shootout.

paul and dino spend the rest of the day in your and paul's room, mostly sitting in silence and just waiting to get a message about how you're doing. they don't eat and they don't watch any of the other races of the day as they're both worried sick, only thinking about you.

dino's phone eventually flashes up with a call from his manager, letting the boys know that you've been lucky and thankfully only suffered a minor concussion. the message doesn't exactly throw away all of their worries, but it does make them calm enough to leave the room and have dinner with the team.

it's late when you come back to your room. when you arrive, you merely greet paul before instantly popping into the bathroom to brush your teeth. when you're done, paul is sitting on his side of the bed, staring into his phone.

there are a couple of silent moments before he speaks up, eyes still glued to the screen of his phone. "i'm glad you're okay. i saw the replay, it could've been a lot worse..." you sit down on your side of the bed, not sure what to say. me too? i'm so lucky? thank you for letting me know that it could've been worse? "well, either way, i'm glad i have one less opponent to overtake tomorrow."

you frown, shaking your head. "...i'm not skipping the race, paul."

his eyes dart over to you, eyebrows raised. "what?"

"i'm starting in p3, and i need points for the championship." you place your phone on the bedside table, turning off your lamp. "i'll take some painkillers and i should be fine."

"did the team say they agreed to that?"

you groan. "i told them that i'll be driving and that they can't do anything to stop me." paul is speechless – you have just been in a massive crash on one of the most dangerous circuits in the world, and you were still going to race the next day? "so now, if you'll excuse me," you laid down, turning to face the wall and pulling your duvet over your body. "i think my head needs some rest."

you want to make it seem like his questions bother you, like you want him to stop talking to you because he's just that annoying. but in reality, you want him to stop because his caring words are making you feel something you never thought you would feel for him.

do you actually... like it? do you like the way he is worried for you? do you like the way he looked at you, his eyes filled with concern when he thought about you injuring yourself even more?

did you like him?

even though it's late, paul can't fall asleep. he still feels unwell about the whole situation. it bothers him, and there's something inside him regretting that he wasn't able to express himself properly before.

after turning around in bed for what feels like forever, he calls out your name. "are you awake?"

when there's no answer from you, he lets out a sigh of relief.

"okay, good." his voice is low, careful not to wake you up, but you can still clearly make out his words. "i just need to say that... i'm really thankful that you're okay. that crash was awful, and..." paul pauses for a few moments. "when you passed out, i swear i have never been as scared. not even when i have crashed."

you're not sure why you aren't saying anything. something inside you tells you that you should hear him out, and that interrupting him now will stop him from saying the things he needs to get out.

"and especially after the things you told me yesterday, about your dad... i didn't want you to face the same fate."

paul lets out a loud sigh, and it's followed by a small chuckle.

"this is so weird. i don't understand why i care so much. we're enemies, but..." you hear him shuffle a little from his side of the bed as you wait for him to continue speaking.

never, not even in your wildest dreams, could you have guessed what he would say next.

"i think i like you."

your breath hitches at his words but you try your best to act natural and pretend like you're sleeping. revealing now that you've been listening all along would not be ideal.

"i mean, i don't just think so. i'm pretty sure. but you hate me, so..."

paul is quiet for a long time and you assume he's done with his rant, so his voice startles you when he speaks again.

"i don't know. i think i'm done." then, he lowers his voice even further, a bare whisper leaving his lips; "sweet dreams."

paul falls asleep soon after his confession, having gotten everything off his chest. but now, it’s your turn to stay sleepless.

when your alarm goes off in the morning, it feels like your head is about to explode. having to be at the track at six in the morning means waking up even earlier, which always feels like it should be illegal. but today, it was even worse than usual.

maybe you'd underestimated this concussion and how it would affect your day.

but this weekend is the second to last round in the f3 championship, so the points are important. you'll have to at least try and do your best.

you know you won't be able to say anything to the staff members, because as soon as they hear even the slightest sign of doubt from you, they'll prohibit you from racing. they do want your best, after all. so you take several pain killers straight after waking up and put on your best possible smile when having breakfast in the hotel.

paul doesn't speak to you all morning; he seems tense and somewhat distracted, just like the last couple of days. though, now you feel like you understand why. you don't exactly feel relaxed yourself, constantly being reminded of his late-night confession and your sudden realization of your own feelings. it's almost like you see him in a new light; when he's chatting away with dino at breakfast, you don't find him annoying for occupying your friend's attention like you usually would; when you're forced to sit next to him in the shuttle to the track, you find yourself enjoying the way his broad shoulders graze against yours every once in a while; and when he does his warmups for the race, you find it hard to take your eyes off him because his white fireproof shirt makes you feel things you didn't know you could feel for him.

you take one last painkiller as you stand in the truck, moments before you're supposed to get into your car. you're all alone, taking a couple deep breaths to try and forget everything about yesterday, and everything about paul, so that you can concentrate fully on the race. that's why you're startled when a hand lands on your shoulder – but when you turn your head and see that the hand belongs to paul who's standing behind you, you get surprisingly calm. "how's the head?"

"it's better," you answer. it's not a full lie; it is better than when you woke up. he doesn't need to know that it's not as good as it should be.

paul nods, walking past you to his bag in a corner of the truck. you're standing in silence for a few moments as he rummages through his bag, not sure what to say. "you know you still have time to change your mind, right?" he pulls out his headphones, standing up properly. "no one will be mad if you say you can't race."

"i know." when his eyes meet yours, it feels different. closer, more intimate, more personal than ever before. you wonder if he can feel it too. "thank you."

and then another thing happens for the first time ever.

he smiles at you.

it's not a forced smile like the ones he could sometimes give you in prema videos or after a race, and it's not a gloating one like the ones he would show off after overtaking you in the last corner of a race. no, this is a real smile.

and you smile back. "good luck out there," you say.

"you too."

surprisingly enough, you're the only one in the top ten who starts with wet tyres on your car. the track still is very wet and the sky is covered in dark clouds, so while it currently isn't raining, it still feels like a given to you that the wet tyres are the best choice.

dino is starting on slicks – you're not sure why – but back in eleventh place, paul is starting on the wets just like you. as you'd hoped, the wets are the best tyre for the conditions, and you soar past the two people starting in front of you in the first corner. it doesn't take long before paul comes up behind you, having passed nine cars in just the first parts of the race. the other cars on wets overtake all cars starting on slicks too, but you and aron have no problem fighting them off for the rest of the race.

when the two of you pull into the pitlane along with taylor barnard who took the last spot on the podium, you let out a sigh of relief. you had been scared, both before and during the race, that something else would happen. driving on a wet track is never easy, and another shunt could've made your head trauma much worse. you're thankful for an easy race – and especially thankful that paul is there to share the podium with you.

instantly after getting out of your car, you pull off your helmet and jog off to celebrate with your team. when you've hugged and shook hands with everyone and you make your way over to check your weight, you find that paul is already standing on the scale. when he gets off it, he turns to you instinctively. his blonde curls stick slightly to his sweaty forehead before he pulls a hand through them, standing still and just looking at you.

paul is so genuinely happy for you; after the day you had yesterday, and the things you told him the day before, you really deserve this win. the joy practically radiates from him, his smile bigger and more pure than ever.

you can't exactly contain your happiness either, which explains why you crash into him, engulfing him in a big hug. your emotions are all over the place, so happy for the race and still thinking of his confession last night, and you just want to hold him in your arms forever.

paul is used to the regular handshake and nod after a race, so he is surprised that you're embracing him all of the sudden. "what are you doing?" he asks as confusion takes over his face, but he's at the same time beginning to blush at the feeling of your arms around him.

you pull away slightly, your arms still holding onto his shoulders. you can't hold back now. "i heard you," you whisper. "last night." his expression morphs into one of horror, and he's about to explain himself when you cut him off. "don't worry, i feel the same way."

he just blinks at you for a few moments, before he drapes his arms around you, holding you close. a laughter erupts from his chest and you grin at the feeling of his chest vibrating against yours.

this is the first time you've ever actually hugged him – but you hope there will be many more hugs to come.

having someone you like instead of hate with you on the podium is a new feeling to you. there's something about the little glances you steal of each other, the shared smiles as you get your trophies, and the way both of you completely drench the other in champagne; it's a feeling neither of you will forget.

paul even enjoys the sound of your national anthem for the first time.

as soon as you possibly can, when you are both done with your interviews and whatnot, you try to find a place where you can be alone and talk. thankfully, the prema truck is empty as all other staff members and drivers are watching or working at the f2 race. paul pulls the door open for you, watching with a smile as you bow gratefully before stepping inside. "well..." he says, closing the door behind him.

"well..." you set your trophy down on a counter, seeing from the corner of your eye how paul does the same with his own trophy next to you. "do you want to... say something?"

you can practically feel his eyes falling on you, but yours are fixed on the trophy in front of you. not because it's so beautiful, but because you don't dare look at the other beautiful thing in the room. you've never felt shy around paul before; you've never been scared to talk in front of him, look at him, or just be near him. but now, even the thought of him being next to you makes you a bit nervous.

"why didn't you say anything?" paul asks, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans on the counter. "last night?"

you take a deep breath. "i don't know, i didn't want to interrupt you." you close your eyes, shaking your head slightly. "it's just all so new to me. these feelings i have for you..." you pause, trying to come up with something to say about what you feel for him, but your mind is blank. "i mean, just a year ago, we would make each other crash into a wall during races because we hated each other so much, and–"

"do you still hate me?"

you instantly turn your head towards him. "no! no, of course not." when your eyes meet his, you find the thought of ever hating him ridiculous. it's like you're reminded of the paul you've gotten to know these last few days. the paul who is not only freakishly handsome and a great driver, but also sweet, kind, caring. the paul you've found yourself thinking about so many times every day, the paul you really like.

"does that mean that you like me?"

no matter how hard he tries to push it away, a grin is forming on his lips. the grin only grows when you answer his question. "yeah. it does. i like you."

"good." paul takes a step closer to you, letting his fingers brush away a few stray hair from your face. "because i like you too."

your cheeks redden from the sensation of his fingers against your skin, and the combination of his soft gaze and his genuine smile could make you melt on the spot. you blink up at him, thinking of what to say, when he speaks again.

"can i kiss you?"

you nod before you can even register your own actions, and paul's hand smooths over your cheek again before landing right below your jaw. he pulls your face closer, stopping just a centimeter away for a moment before he leans in to close the distance.

it's delicate, gentle, and so tender. the feathery kisses he's giving you make you grow weak in your knees, but all the nervousness you felt before is flushed away in a millisecond. your hands come up to wrap around his neck to keep you steady as you tilt your head, moving your lips along with his. it feels so right, kissing your ex-enemy like this, yet it was so unthinkable just days before.

just when paul is about to deepen the kiss, you hear a sound from behind you; the door is opening and in comes dino, calling out your names. "are you in here?"

you pull apart quickly, both scrambling to look as natural and as far away as you can in just a second. dino senses what's up – how can he not, when you're basically attached by your lips when he walks in? – but he decides not to push it. he'd rather keep quiet and bring it up another time, when he has a better opportunity to tease you both.

"there you are!" he beams, waving for you both to come with him. "the race is about to start, let's go and watch it."

if your cheeks had been red before, they are now burning like never before. you hide your face in your hands, groaning at the thought of dino seeing his teammates lip-locked. paul lets out a chuckle at the sight, draping an arm around your shoulders as he leads you towards the door with him. "it's fine, he didn't see anything." he presses a short peck to your temple before letting go of you as you exit the truck. "i think."

dino has already gotten a good head start towards the track, and paul is just about to jog after him when you turn to him, pressing your finger to his chest. "just one thing," you start, and he raises his eyebrows at you. "i hope you understand that this," you point at yourself and then at him, and then at yourself again. "doesn't mean i'll be nicer to you when we race. i'm still going to crush you in every race."

paul throws his head back as he lets out a hearty laugh. "oh, i'd love to see you try."

733 notes · View notes