#they didn't even TRY .. they didn't even try.

[theabigailthorn]

any philosophy on surviving fascism? or building local power?

I'm going to start by staying alive, and then I'm going to look around my local community and see what charities are working in the area that I might be able to help out with. I'm gonna give more money to the homeless. I'm probably going to speak less and listen more, for a while. I'm going to pay even closer attention to grocery store prices. I'm going to make art, even if it's not as big and grandiose as I would like to, and try to dedicate myself to the creative principles of it rather than maximising career success. I'm going to comfort my friends who are afraid, and accept their comfort for all the things I'd hoped to do that I might not get to anymore. I'm going to go to the gym because it's good for me, even though a healthy future seems hard to imagine. I'm going to remember that I'm still young. I'm going to remember there are younger people who look up to me. I'm going to listen to older people who didn't get everything they wanted and still turned out happy. I'm going to read.

And I'm going to remember that even if every trans person on Earth were rounded up and killed tomorrow, a million more would be born the next day.

[bixels]

this is also a whole 'nother thing that i'm not equipped to talk about but i think we need to re-evaluate how we engage in discourse and dialogue with each other, especially online. because so often now do i see posts about activism or info (on twt and here) and someone will reblog with an addition that tries to discredit the op because they didn't use the right phrasing/vernacular or think about this specific perspective or demographic and it's like.

true! but why do you have to be kind of an asshole about it.

this is coming from the position of a student, so don't take my word as gospel, but i want to strongly encourage people to prepare for the coming years and look outward to find communities in real life. this can be big like getting involved in fundraisers or organizations or small like going to poc/queer/art social spaces and talking to people. making friends and connections will help you and others build support networks, something you will need as we enter the new term. i know talking to strangers in real life can be scary, unfamiliar, or difficult (depending on where you live especially) and it may take a lot of compromising and work –– and i don't want to condescend –– but we have to try starting now. this is about your safety and welfare, as well as the most vulnerable people's.

if leftists/progressives/minorities want to survive and beat back what's coming, we need to do our work offline too and take up space. an example of getting involved would be (if you're an artist) reaching out to fundraising organizers and making prints of your artwork to donate for raising funds.

[wethotcrazy]

CAN'T CONTROL IT

pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 739

just something a little short and sweet for franco colapinto. also i think the can't control their mouth and can't control their face would suit him well?! idk bro

The F1 social media team had a new favorite hobby: catching YN's reactions to everything Franco Colapinto did.

It started during pre-season testing in Bahrain. Franco, fresh in his Williams racing suit, had spun on his installation lap – a rookie mistake that had the paddock chuckling. The TV director, whether by instinct or divine intervention, cut immediately to YN in the Alpine garage.

Her expression was poetry in motion: eyes rolling skyward, lips pressed together to suppress a smile, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I can't believe this" and "that's my idiot" in one fluid movement.

The clip went viral within hours.

"Have you seen this?" Franco bounded into the Alpine hospitality area, phone already extended. "'Every Time YN Dies Inside Watching Franco Colapinto: Testing Edition' – they even put sad violin music over your faces!"

YN didn't need to look. She'd already seen the compilation – a masterfully edited collection of her various reactions to Franco's testing adventures. Her personal favorite was the slow-motion zoom on her face when he'd described his first F1 car as "spicy."

"I'm starting to think you do these things on purpose," she muttered, but her treacherous face was already softening at his enthusiasm.

"Maybe I just like seeing your reactions," he winked, dropping into the seat beside her. "Remember in F3 when you said your face wasn't that expressive?"

"Remember in F2 when you said you'd learned to think before speaking?"

His laugh echoed through the hospitality area. "Some things never change, no?"

The Australian GP brought new material for the ever-growing collection of "YN Can't Control Her Face" content. As Alpine's reserve driver, she was in the garage when Franco scored his first F1 points – a remarkable P8 in a chaotic race.

His radio message was pure, unfiltered Franco: "P8! P8! YN, are you watching? Better than that time in F2 when you said I'd never score points because I was too busy talking!"

The cameras found her instantly: pride blooming across her features before she could school them into professional neutrality.

"Every time they show your face, the comments explode," Esteban teased later. "I think you've got more screen time than some of the actual drivers."

YN groaned. "Don't remind me. Someone made a TikTok trend out of my different 'Franco Reactions.'"

"At least you're not 'Can't Control His Mouth' Colapinto," Pierre chimed in. "Did you hear him in the press pen? He spent five minutes explaining how you once bet him he couldn't qualify top 10 without talking on team radio."

"Did he mention he lost that bet?"

"No, but your face when they asked you about it said everything."

Monaco was where things reached new heights. Franco, running in P6 during practice, had been providing commentary that somehow always circled back to YN:

"YN's watching, no? Tell her this is how you take the hairpin properly—" Franco spoke through team radio confidently before scraping through the hairpin.  "Ah. Maybe not like that."

The camera cuts to YN's perfect face-palm, followed by a head shake that somehow conveyed both "I knew it" and "why am I even surprised" in one swift motion.

The resulting clip went viral on Tiktok and became F1's most-watched social media post of the weekend.

"You know what I think?" Franco asked one evening, as they shared takeaway in the quiet of the paddock after everyone else had left. The cameras were finally off, but YN's face was as expressive as ever in the dim light.

"That's a dangerous start to any conversation with you."

He grinned, nudging her shoulder. "I think you like that I can't control my mouth."

"And what makes you say that?" she asked, trying and failing to keep her expression neutral.

"Because every time I talk about you, you make this face – like you're trying not to smile but can't help it. It's my favorite one."

"I do not have a special face for when you talk about me."

"Si, you do! You're making it right now!"

She threw a napkin at him, but her smile – soft and genuine and completely uncontrolled – gave her away.

The next day, during the drivers' briefing, Alex caught Franco staring at YN with an expression that mirrored all of hers – soft and fond and entirely unguarded.

The photo went viral with the caption: "Looks like neither of them can control anything anymore 💕"

[curly-my-beloved]

So like… imagine if reader was the one who got hurt in the crash instead of Curly… how would pre crash and post react to reader? How would he treat them? This can be smut or just fluff, whatever you see fit fr fr

Can be GN reader too, we are inclusive her fr

-🥩 anon

one of the few asks that survived because they were in the drafts :')

Curly if his partner was the one burned instead of him

This man would not forgive himself.

Why were you even in the cockpit? You didn't even have a pilot's license.

Jimmy claimed he tried to stop you from crashing the damn ship. He claimed you were in hysterics. As unusual as that was for you.

He found it hard to believe, but alas, it was not like you could tell him the truth about how you tried to fix things after what Jimmy did. And how you got so terribly injured.

He firmly believed something terrible must've happened. He doesn't blame you, he blames himself. He was your partner, he should've seen something coming.

He visits you in the medbay often, carefully sitting on the edge of the bed and telling you about his day, his eyes still holding that soft, loving look they always did, even with all the pain and confusion he felt.

He would offer Anya breaks regularly and would be on your painkiller duty.

He's always apologize to you so much, assuring you that you're so brave and that you're doing great for him... He promises you that you'll get home and he'll get you surgery so you feel better. He promises to him that you're just as gorgeous now as you were before.

On the rare occasions where your pain is more bearable than usual, he'll carefully lay down next to you and hold you in his arms, maybe even lay you on his chest. He doesn't hold you too tightly, but you still feel the security that came from his body being against yours.

If your pain is too bad to hold you or even sit on the bed without disturbing you, even after the painkillers, he will take a chair and just sit next to you, trying to distract you with silly stories to the best of his ability.

He might tear up if he sees the painkillers taking too long to work. He hates seeing you in pain, it breaks his heart completely, but he never leaves until you're at least somewhat soothed.

Sometimes, he'll even end up sleeping on the floor next to your bed, just so he can be close to you. It is not particularly comfortable.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Mean! Jason Todd

Mean! Jason Todd who dated one of your old friends from highschool a few years ago before it fell through. Whenever you and your friends would meet up, he always had something to say about you.

"Jeez, thought we were going to the lounge, not a strip club."

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely shattered your best friend's heart when they broke up. You were left to pick up the pieces as he did god knows what.

"Not my fault your little group is filled with whores. She just had to go and get another guy's dick wet." (You found out later that she had, in fact, cheated on Jason.)

Mean! Jason Todd who contacts you out of the blue after months of him being blocked on your phone because he wouldn't stop calling the rest of your friends cruel names.

"Hey, sorry to bother u. Just need a pick me up rn. U busy?"

Mean! Jason Todd coming over for a couple of drinks because he didn't want to be alone and really did care about your friend.

"I just... I thought it mattered. At least a little. And the only thing that sucks ass is that I know it would've happened whether I was a better person or not."

Mean! Jason Todd who gets a lot more bold while tipsy and takes your joke about '[his] dick probably not being the issue," and how he could get "any girl [he] wanted looking like that," a little too seriously.

"God, just tell me you're trying to get into my pants, already. What would your little friend think, hm?"

Of course, it was just a tease.

But you didn't care what your friends thought.

Mean! Jason Todd who you don't even know how you ended up underneath, his hands greedily grasping at your flesh as he pounds you from behind.

"Look at how well you take me..." A soft groan. "Almost like you've been waiting for this. This what you wanted? To get cockdrunk from your best friend's ex?"

Mean! Jason Todd who absolutely pounds you and is so mean about how much you whine and beg, even though he's to blame.

"All those pretty noises just for me? Fucking pathetic... Must've been so desperate for this cock and waiting for it. You wanted my cock that fucking badly?"

Mean! Jason Todd who thinks you have eyes too big for your holes. Sure, you guessed he would be big, based on what your friend told you when they were together but he was huge.

"Look at that... See how good you're stretching out for me? Must've just been made for this cock... Thats right. All youre good for is taking my cock so well."

Mean! Jason Todd who's gone before you wake up in the morning, but leaves an advil and cup of water on your nightstand.

"Got a new number. Call me when you need another drink."

The note he left next to your cup of water.

[dedalvs]

With all due respect sir, and I know you've been through a hell of a lot of elections, the politics of this country have been shifting more right wing for a couple of years now and I doubt .4% of people voting for a third party would have made a fucking difference when no one in this country even listens to the popular vote

I expected that many would miss the point of the post I made—even though I literally said in the post "The point wasn't to get votes for a third party candidate"—screenshot in case you missed it:

It is voter suppression. It is always voter suppression. That was the point. It is to keep people home. The third party candidates, the fantasy candidates ("How can you vote for x candidate when theoretical y candidate who isn't in this election is so much more liberal?!"), that's the distraction. It is always about getting voters to stay home and not cast a vote. I don't know how I can make that any clearer.

Even in cases where a specific third party candidate's vote total might have made the difference (in 2000 Bush won Florida by 537 votes while Ralph Nader, many of whose voters were more allied with Gore than Bush, received 97,421 votes), the answer is never "Why did you vote for a third party candidate?", it's "Why didn't more Floridians come out to vote?" After all, with many of those third party voters, IF they were forced to choose between two candidates only, maybe they wouldn't have voted at all, so it wouldn't have made a difference. In this year's election, most third party votes went to candidates that leaned conservative, so if they weren't there, maybe Trump gets more votes in those states, not fewer.

No, listen, I don't know how to make this clearer: THE PROPAGANDA IS TO GET VOTERS NOT TO VOTE. It is ALWAYS to get voters not to vote. How they do it changes with the election, but the goal is always to get voters to stay home.

Also, in case you think I'm blaming Gen-Z, I was hoping referring to the history would set the concern aside (they weren't there in 2000). It's not a generation's fault. It is simply failing to recognize propaganda and what it is ultimately trying to get you to do. In this case, it's the same thing every time: to not vote. The liberals vs. ultra-liberals thing is a fiction to drive down liberal turnout.

I know it's been said many times, but if voting weren't important, Republicans wouldn't care about it. Truly, when they don't care about voting, that's the time to truly be frightened, because it means at that point voting is no longer relevant to the process.

(Btw I tried to tag this post and the last one with enough tags to let those who don't want to see it filter it out. I hope I've done enough of them.)

[aakeysmash]

prompt:

reader getting injured because she slipped in the shower, sukuna has to help her get to the hospital, where reader gets some pain meds making her kinda high. she confesses to him while being high

content: fluff, crack. reader is in the hospital and blood is named but there’s no gore. yuuji and sukuna are siblings. i love sukuna and i need him in my life so bad… someone PLS be my sukuna

“So, just to be sure: one margherita for me and one with sausage for you?” Asks you Yuuji while putting on his shoes.

“Yup,” you answer, popping the p. “Can I just have a quick shower while you’re gone?”

“Uhhh, sure, let me go ask Sukuna,” your friend tells you smiling and rushing up the stairs of his home.

You and Yuuji have been best friends since forever. You remember the first time you both cried your eyes out at the park in kindergarten because a lizard had just eaten the ladybug you had been watching for half an hour. Since that moment you’ve been attached at the hip, your homework filled afternoons in high school turning to pizza nights when both of your work schedules allowed you to now.

“Big bro said sure,” comes Yuuji’s voice from the end of the staircase.

“I did in fact not say that,” growls Sukuna from behind him. Sukuna is the same age as you and Yuuji, but he always seemed older. Sometimes wiser, but sure as hell more annoying than his brother. Hotter, too, but that’s a topic for another time.

“I didn’t ask you to join me, big boy,” you say sarcastically, fake smiling. He crosses his arms, leveling you with a bored look.

“Yuu, if you aren’t fast enough you’re not going to find her corpse when you get back,” he tells his brother, still staring you up and down. Yuuji sighs, tired, then opens the front door.

“Make sure to not kill each other. I have a shift after this, stop bickering. You two act like siblings more than I do with you, Sukuna,” he reprimands you both. You and his brother roll your eyes at the same time, then you push him out, closing the door in his face. You turn around and find yourself face to face with Sukuna's menacing grin.

“You have 5 minutes before I come knock at the bathroom door with a kitchen knife, doll.”

You’re scrubbing yourself clean with a random pine body wash you found in the shower when the playlist you put before entering the stall stops. You’re annoyed, because now you’re forced to listen to Sukuna’s ugly songs from the bathroom wall (that he’s blasting just to annoy you), so you try to reach your phone. You’re on your tippy toes, not wanting to get out completely, when you trip and fall since you didn’t wash the soap away from your body. You bump your head on the sink in front of the shower, hard, and you muffle a whine. You close your eyes as hard as you can and open the shower head with the room spinning inside your skull.

“Don’t open your eyes, don’t open your eyes or you’ll fall… fuck, it hurts so bad,” you tell yourself while you speed run the end of the shower and blindly put your shirt over your head. It’s not the first time you've bumped your head on something, you were a crazy kid, so you’ve learned to open your eyes only when you physically can’t function anymore or you'll start seeing stars immediately. You barely get to put your pants on when you notice your forehead feels wet, and you didn't even wash your hair. As you get out of the bathroom wobbling you touch your head. When you open your eyes, you see blood on your hand. The room spins. You barely have time to look up and watch Sukuna coming out of his bedroom frowning before seeing black dots in your vision.

You try opening your eyes, but they feel so heavy. Your body feels rather stiff. What's this smell?

"Oh, she's waking up," a female voice softly says from somewhere next to your right.

"Thank you, miss, I got it from here," a rough voice responds.

"Make sure she drinks a lot, and keep a couple of painkillers near you. The scans show she doesn't have any internal damage, but she hit her head pretty hard. She's going to have a big bruise for a couple of days," the female voice continues. You hear the man making a sound of affirmation.

There’s a brief pause. "Your wife is very lucky. It's not every day that a man takes a woman up four flights of stairs by simple arm strength," the woman concludes sweetly, getting out of the room after he responds with a grunt and closing the door behind her.

"Your ass is lucky I lied or they wouldn’t have let me in, dumbass. Open your eyes, I know you're awake," the voice you now recognise as Sukuna says, getting closer. You try opening your eyes, managing to focus your gaze on him. Everything feels so fluffy, apart from your throat. You cough, and you think you see him rolling his eyes before getting you a glass of water and sitting beside you on a chair. You gulp it down, still feeling fuzzy, then you blink a couple of times.

You gape at him. He's cute. “You look funny,” you say, poking his cheek. He’s so squishy. Like a little mochi. A little mochi filled with strawberries. Strawberries and cream. He slaps your finger away, and you put on a hurt expression. He huffs.

“Why am I here?” You ask. The more you look at him, the more heads he seems to have.

“You fell in the bathroom,” he says, straightening up from the chair and covering your right leg with the duvet the hospital gave you. You raise an eyebrow at his gesture, and he just rolls his eyes again. “Don’t want you to also catch a cold. Yuuji would kill my ass.” You just hum.

“I caught ya when you already fainted. Yuuji came back home and panicked, but he couldn’t back out from work, so I was stuck with your ass. Took ya here but the elevator broke down. And I ate your pizza, by the way. All this is gonna cost ya 200 dollars, cash,” he lists, sprawling back onto his chair, deadpan.

Silence engulfs the both of you, and you don’t know what to say. You heard what the nurse said and you are searching for a way to bring it up, but the words in your mind are all scrambled. It’s probably the morphine that you realise they gave you, IV still attached to your left arm. You open your mouth to say something along the lines of “I’d like to thank your gym membership for this,” but instead the words that leave your mouth are-

“I’d like you to be my husband.”

His eyes snap to your widening ones. “Wait that wasn’t what-“

“Huh?” He just replies, dumbfounded. You panic, waving your hands in the air between you two.

“No, what I meant was- like- thank you for getting me up here- can you stop looking at me with your weird 16 eyes?- not that you aren’t attractive! You’re super hot! But that’s not- oh god,” you whimper, rubbing your face, noticing how you’re just making the situation worse. You prepare yourself for his snarky comeback, closing your eyes, but everything is silent.

Suddenly, you hear him snort. You crack your eyes open, touching the big cotton gauze they put on your forehead. You must be hearing things. It’s definitely the morphine, there’s no way Sukuna is actually laughing.

“Yes, I’m laughing, doll,” he says, chuckling. You widen your eyes.

“I said that out loud, didn’t I?” You cringe.

“Yeah, you kinda did,” he responds, smirking. You groan.

“Take me out to dinner first, damn,” he yawns. You jut your bottom lip out, frowning and giving him your middle finger. Then you register his words.

“You’d come? I mean, if I asked you out.”

“Well, if you’re paying,” he responds, shrugging. That’s still a yes, isn’t it?

He ruffles up his pink hair, black t-shirt straining across his bicep. You can’t contain the urge to poke the muscle.

“Stop touching me like I’m made of play dough, doll,” he sighs, slightly less annoyed than 5 minutes ago.

“Would you let me play with you if you were made of play dough?” you ask, words a little slurred, still poking his arm, and he flexes it. “Don’t show off,” you mumble.

“You’re even weirder when you’re drugged,” he grins. He kinda looks scary, though. If you didn’t know him, you’d piss yourself by looking at his sharp teeth.

“But would you or would you not?” You whine, dragging out the last word, letting your hand fall next to you. He misses the warmth of your hand, so instead, he just puts his on your thigh. To be warm, of course. The room is so cold. Yeah. Definitely because of the missing heat.

“Yeah doll, I would.”

[mapis-putellas]

𝑪𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒂𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒌𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒉

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: you find out Alexia is ticklish

It all started with something small—barely even noticeable at first. You were still early into your relationship with Alexia, who, despite being one of the most sought-after footballers in the world, managed to keep her calm, collected, and sometimes intimidating presence off the pitch. But she had a softer side you loved seeing—the sweet, gentle Alexia who, in private moments, let her guard down just for you.

You'd noticed it one evening when the two of you were out, casually strolling through the city, your arm wrapped around her waist. It was a simple gesture, one you often made, but this time, you noticed her body tense up, just for a split second, as your hand brushed her side. You glanced at her, brows raised.

"Are you okay?" you asked, genuinely curious.

She blinked, a blush dusting her cheeks as she looked at you with a sheepish smile. "Ah, sí, sí. Just... you startled me," she mumbled in her thick Spanish accent, waving it off with a soft laugh.

You let it slide, convinced it was just a fluke. But then it happened again.

This time, the two of you were lounging on the couch, her head resting on your shoulder as you lazily ran a hand up and down her back under her shirt. Alexia's eyes were closed, her breathing calm, and you loved feeling her lean so fully into you, completely at ease. But when your fingers grazed her side, she jerked ever so slightly, biting her lip to keep from reacting. You couldn't help but notice.

"Ale..." you began, a smile creeping onto your face, "Are you... ticklish?"

She looked up at you, her cheeks tinged with red, shaking her head quickly. "No, no," she insisted, her voice wavering just enough for you to pick up on. "Just... you surprised me.”

"Oh really?" you said with a teasing grin, storing away this valuable information for later.

You had no idea how you'd missed it. Alexia Putellas, the fierce captain, was ticklish. But clearly, she wasn't ready to admit it. Not yet.

The next morning, you decided to test out your theory.

Alexia was standing in the kitchen, humming softly as she flipped pancakes on the stove. She was focused, oblivious to your approach. Her back was turned to you, the morning sunlight streaming in through the windows and casting a gentle glow on her relaxed form. You stepped forward, wrapping your arms around her waist, placing a light kiss on her shoulder.

"Good morning, mi vida," you murmured, tightening your grip slightly.

She laughed softly, her hands moving from the pan to rest on top of yours. "Good morning," she replied, leaning into your embrace.

You kissed the side of her neck, watching as her face softened, completely lulled into a false sense of security. Then, while she was relaxed and distracted, you gave her a quick, gentle poke on her side.

She yelped, her body flinching as she let out a sound that neither of you were expecting—a snort. Immediately, her cheeks flushed, and she clapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening in embarrassment.

You blinked in surprise before bursting out laughing. "Oh my god," you teased, eyes sparkling with mischief, "did Alexia Putellas just snort?"

She turned a deeper shade of red, biting her lip as she looked at you with a mix of indignation and embarrassment. "No... no, I did not," she mumbled, though the flustered look on her face only confirmed the truth.

"Oh, you so did!" you laughed, delighting in her reaction. "I didn't know the mighty Alexia Putellas could snort!"

Before she could defend herself, you seized the opportunity, tickling her sides with quick, playful jabs. The reaction was immediate—she burst into laughter, her usual composure shattered as she squirmed in your grip, desperately trying to push your hands away.

"Y/N, no!" she managed to gasp, her voice high-pitched and breathless as she tried to wriggle free. "Stop... por favor!"

But you were having too much fun to stop now. "Oh, no way," you teased, your fingers dancing over her stomach, her sides, even her neck as you discovered each of her most ticklish spots.

Her laughter was contagious, loud and full of pure, unrestrained joy that echoed through the kitchen. She was helpless, her body twisting and turning as she tried to escape, but every time she moved, you just found a new spot to tickle. Tears of laughter began to gather in her eyes, and her cheeks were bright red, her breaths coming in gasps as she tried to catch her breath.

"Please!" she managed to gasp between giggles, her voice breaking as she leaned back against you, her strength almost entirely spent. "No more... no more!"

You grinned, giving her a small break as you pulled her close, wrapping her breathless, flushed form in your arms. She leaned against you, still giggling softly as she tried to catch her breath, her head resting against your shoulder.

"You are too cute," you murmured, rocking her back and forth gently as you brushed a hand over her hair. "I had no idea you were this ticklish."

She pouted, crossing her arms as she pretended to glare at you, though her smile betrayed her. "You are... a menace," she muttered, her voice playful as she nudged you gently.

You chuckled, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm sorry," you said, though your grin told her you were anything but. "But come on, Ale, you can't deny it—you're adorable when you laugh.”

She huffed, pretending to be mad, but after a few moments, her shoulders relaxed, and she melted into your embrace, her body soft and warm against yours.

"You are... lucky I love you," she muttered, her accent thicker in her embarrassment, though there was a smile tugging at her lips.

You grinned, brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh, I know. And I love you too, Ale. Even when you're a ticklish mess."

She groaned, hiding her face in your shoulder as she mumbled something under her breath, clearly too flustered to argue further. You just held her close, rocking her gently as you savored the feeling of her in your arms, grateful for the little moments like these that reminded you just how lucky you were.

After a few moments, she looked up at you, her cheeks still pink but her eyes filled with warmth. "You... will not tell anyone, sí?" she asked, her tone half-joking but also tinged with genuine concern.

You laughed, pulling her even closer. "Your secret's safe with me, mi amor. I wouldn't dare ruin the Captain's reputation."

She smiled, clearly relieved, before giving you a playful shove. "Good. Because I will... get my revenge."

"Oh?" you replied, raising an eyebrow as you smirked at her. "And how exactly are you going to do that?"

She grinned, her eyes gleaming with a mischievous glint. "You... will find out."

You couldn't help but laugh, wrapping your arms around her as you kissed her softly, savoring the warmth and closeness. "I'll look forward to it," you murmured, brushing your thumb over her cheek.

For a few moments, you just stood there, holding each other in the soft morning light, the world outside fading away as you enjoyed the quiet intimacy. But soon, Alexia pulled back slightly, glancing at the stove with a small, sheepish smile.

"We... should finish breakfast," she murmured, her cheeks still slightly flushed as she moved to flip the pancakes.

You chuckled, nodding as you followed her lead, helping her finish cooking as you moved around the kitchen together. And every so often, you'd sneak a quick poke at her sides, just to see her flinch and flash you a quick glare, her eyes sparkling with unspoken laughter.

Once the food was ready, the two of you sat down at the table, enjoying your breakfast as you exchanged soft smiles and quiet laughter, your hearts full and content. And as you reached across the table to take her hand, you couldn't help but feel grateful for the little moments like these—moments filled with laughter, love, and the beautiful, unexpected joy of discovering each other.

After breakfast, as you both cleaned up the dishes, Alexia glanced at you, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I... will remember this," she warned, though her voice was filled with warmth.

You laughed, pulling her into a quick hug. "Good," you said, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

**

Tags:

@silentwolfsstuff @girlgenius1111 @codiemarin @ceesimz @marysfics @goldenempyrean @xxnaiaxx @liloandstitchstan

[purinfelix]

you're here, that's the thing ˚⟡˖ ࣪ - franco colapinto

summary: your boyfriend tries his best to make your schedules, as a racer and student, work - even when miles apart w/c: 900

a/n: it's finals season for me and i needed to write something self-indulgent as a break from cramming forgive me 🙏

Being a full-time student was one thing, but being a full-time student in a relationship with an extremely clingy boyfriend, who also happened to be travelling the world to race in Formula One, was a whole other challenge.

You and Franco had had some time to adjust to a long-distance relationship since you started dating, having such different lives, and managed to make it work for the most part. But now, with him having to wholly commit to his racing and finals season rolling around for you, it put a strain on your relationship that neither of you was ready for.

It was a strange paradox - the less free time you had outside of classes and studying, the less you were able to spend talking to him, and the more you wanted just to drop everything and fly to where he was. Your morning texts and voice message updates stopped being enough, and before you knew it you struggled to go longer than an hour studying without sending your boyfriend a message to whine and complain.

You were fully aware of how immature and irresponsible this was, but this awareness did little to stop you. And it didn't exactly help that Franco seemed to share the same sentiment, telling you again and again how hard it was for him as well, how racing seemed almost impossible without you there to cheer him on. It hurt, but the two of you just had to do everything you could to get through it - for you to focus on your studies and for him to try his best at racing.

All this came to a head one Sunday though, the afternoon before one of your final exams and - because of the time difference - the night before Franco's next race. Sitting in your dorm alone, surrounded by piles of textbooks, notes and scattered pens you felt a sudden jolt of vulnerability and before you knew it you were reaching for your phone.

"Can you call?" you typed quickly to your boyfriend, your eyes lighting up upon seeing the three dots begin moving almost instantly.

"My gosh, I was just going to ask you the same thing," he replied, and before you knew it your phone was springing to life with a call from him. Clicking accept, you couldn't help but smile widely at the sight of his face.

"Hi," you say, almost shyly.

"Hi baby, how are you?"

"Good," you pause, "stressed."

He nods understandingly, "You're holding up okay, hm? Taking care of yourself?"

"Of course, Franco," you laugh at his almost motherly concern, "and you?"

"Nervous, of course."

"Well, that makes two of us." You pause after speaking, for some reason this call is turning out less enjoyable and more awkward than you hoped.

"I'm sorry, I'm just really tired," you hear your boyfriend say and when you look up you can definitely see it, his eyelids half closing over deep, dark circles under them.

"Do you want to sleep? I have to study anyways."

You watch as he chews his bottom lip, thinking of what to say though once he finally talks his voice is small, almost like a confession. "But I wanted to talk to you."

"We are talking Franco, and we can talk tomorrow once you rest."

This doesn't seem to quell his worries though, his brows still knitted in thought. "I just feel so useless knowing that you're struggling and stressed and I can't even keep you company like I normally do."

You nod sympathetically until an idea pops into your head. "We can keep the call on, carry me over to your bed - you'll sleep and I'll study."

Even through the fatigue pulling him down, Franco nods enthusiastically, doing as you say. You watch him sink into the plush white bedsheets of whatever hotel he's in, and whilst you feel a little jealous at his ability to rest right now, you turn back to your desk and start pulling out your notes.

"You'll be okay," you hear him mumble.

"What do you mean?"

"With your exams," he smiles sleepily, eyes flitting as he watches you pick up your highlighters and pens, "you're the smartest person I know."

"I don't know how much that's saying, you didn't even finish high school baby."

"Hey! I was trying to be nice," he says, feigning offence though there's a soft smile across his face.

"You're right, I'm sorry," you laugh, "you'll be okay as well, with your race tomorrow."

"I hope so."

"I know so."

"I wish you were here," he sighs, looking at you earnestly and all you can do is give him a nod in agreement.

"But for now," you wave your pen to hint at the fact that you need to get back to cramming and he seems to get the hint.

"Right, right, you won't even know I'm here," he assures you.

And despite that, the entire night passes without you once forgetting it. Not that he's distracting or anything, in fact he falls asleep mere minutes after telling you that - leaving you to work peacefully for the rest of the night. Instead, his presence, even as he sleeps, even through a screen and halfway across the world, is enough. You find yourself smiling as you study because maybe having a long-distance boyfriend, even one as clingy as Franco, has been a blessing in disguise all this time.

[thissurprisinglyisnttaken]

Idk man, apples are apples and I'm picturing a base idea in my cluttered brainspace. That apple either has to pay Brain Rent to take up current space or you have to keep adding details to the apple, otherwise it's Gone. However, sometimes it'll rewrite a part of the brainspace and I lose my shit. I'll paint you a little scenario:

You look into my eyes and stare into my soul (if eye contact is a think between us) and say to me, "Think apple." Congrats, I am thinking 🍎 and the mental image is floating in the corner of my vision to the upper left above your head.

You say "It's a green apple." The 🍎 becomes 🍏 and it's still floating above your head.

You say, "Describe it to me," and my brain already has a pre-loaded background specifically for apples ready for describing. I say, "It's a green apple with little yellow freckles and a green/brown stem. It's sitting on something wooden with sunlight from the left side lighting the apple." As I'm saying this, I'll doing the mental equivalent of putting the apple scene in fullscreen mode and there's a chance I've gone glassy-eyed or just straight up closed my eyes.

You ask, "Is there a plate nearby?" There might not have been a plate nearby, but no worries! I've cooked one up just for you <3 "There's a medium sized baby blue porcelain plate further behind and to the right."

You say, "Put the apple on the plate, I'll cut it up in a minute." I've now put the green apple on the blue plate and leave it sitting on the wooden countertop/table.

I continue on with my task(s) at hand and de-load the apple scene, but what you've done is now update the pre-loaded apple background to automatically have a blue plate. I won't realize this until I next try to picture an apple.

If you see me later and hand me a blue plate with slices of a red apple, I FUCKIN BLUESCREEN. I hate it! The Reality apple and The Brain apple have a distinct dissonance and it causes me memory issues. The existing scene with the apple is now messed up because the apple is both red with the streaky-apple lines and green with yellow freckles and I can't directly focus on it without getting frustrated. The apple picture doesn't work anymore unless I start over with a new apple with no background! AAARGGH

Anyways, I can never have a task running at the same time as a task loading because if I even so much as THINK I completed either of them, then it'll overwrite and I'll believe I've done it. Which makes me lose my shit when I find out I've fuckin tricked myself Yet Again and the task still isn't done.

Case in point: I'm cold right now, and I'm pretty sure I didn't bump up the temp because omg why is it so cold?? BUT I could've sworn I turned on the heater. So instead of always checking myself and second guessing, I never second guess and just get annoyed at times when I should've double checked. So I'm not angry that I'm cold, I just hate that I can't change my fucked up little brainspace to be more efficient. ......... on my way to go change the goddamn temp 😤

i have neither a good imagination nor aphantasia, but a secret third thing

[inkskinned]

please i love you i'm begging you bring back suspension of disbelief bring back trusting the audience like. i cannot handle any more dialogue that sounds like a legal document. "hello, i am here to talk to you about the incident from a few minutes ago, because i feel you might be unwell, and i am invested in your personal wellbeing." "thank you, i am unwell because the incident was hurtful to me due to my childhood, which was bad." I CANT!!!!

do you know how many people are mad that authors use "growled" as a word for "said"? it's just poetics! they do not literally mean "growled," it's just a common replacement for "said with force but in a low tone." it's normal! do you hear me!! help me i love you please let me out of here!!!

[butchfalin]

the funniest meltdown ive ever had was in college when i got so overstimulated that i could Not speak, including over text. one of my friends was trying to talk me through it but i was solely using emojis because they were easier than trying to come up with words so he started using primarily emojis as well just to make things feel balanced. this was not the Most effective strategy... until. he tried to ask me "you okay?" but the way he chose to do that was by sending "👉🏼👌🏼❓" and i was so shocked by suddenly being asked if i was dtf that i was like WHAT???? WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY TO ME?????????? and thus was verbal again

[galindathegay]

Rage. In my heart. All-consuming. FUCK AI.

[inkpotsprite]

DAMIAN

[hextechmaturgy]

varric is passing the torch over to davrin... may he strut around thedas in the deepest v neck you can imagine, no matter the weather

[dazzelmethat]

Some crickets and grasshoppers and my thoughts about them.

I've always been interested in bugs since I was real small.. I should draw them more often.