#they have made the stakes higher and higher every season

[chirpsythismorning]

Thinking about how every season starts with Mike being late and how apparently s5 is jumping right back into the action post-s4...

And so, what could Mike possibly be late for this time?

[pucksandpower]

Charles Leclerc x CEO!Reader - Social Media AU

Formula 1 News: Everything We Know About Arnault Racing So Far

The team is owned by LVMH, the world’s leading luxury goods company, and is named after the prominent Arnault family, which includes LVMH’s chief operating officer Y/N Arnault, wife of Charles Leclerc. Y/N is the youngest daughter of Bernard Arnault, the world’s richest man, and is said to be his favored successor.

They are expected to benefit from the extensive resources and expertise of LVMH which boasts a diverse portfolio of luxury brands such as Louis Vuitton, Christian Dior, Moët & Chandon, TAG Heuer, and Tiffany & Co. These assets could potentially provide Arnault Racing with a competitive edge on and off the track in a sport heavily reliant on business dealings.

As with any new team, Arnault Racing will face numerous challenges including building a strong technical staff, securing talented drivers, and establishing partnerships with sponsors and suppliers. However, the backing of LVMH’s vast resources and the Arnault family’s commitment to success bode well for their prospects.

While no official announcement has been made regarding Charles Leclerc’s involvement with Arnault Racing, his familial connection to the team coupled with his recent decision to step away from Scuderia Ferrari has fueled rumors and heightened interest in whether he will be part of Arnault Racing’s driver lineup … (Read more)

Press Conference of Arnault Racing CEO, Y/N Arnault, and Team Principal, Sebastian Vettel

REPORT Arnault Racing snags Adrian Newey: CEO Y/N Arnault says “whatever arbitrary figure you have in your head, triple it and that’s how much we offered him” (Aug 2023)

NEWS Red Bull loses LVMH-owned sponsor TAG Heuer as entry of Arnault Racing brings new conflict of interest (Dec 2023)

UPDATE A weekend of team bonding on the beach after the car launch? Charles Leclerc and Mick Schumacher talk about flourishing environment at Arnault Racing (Feb 2024)

FEATURE What to expect from Arnault Racing — data from preseason testing explained (Feb 2024)

REPORT Podiums and points: a strong start to the season for newcomers Arnault Racing (Mar 2024)

FEATURE The Prince that was promised: Charles Leclerc triumphs in Monaco (May 2024)

UPDATE Who are the ‘losers’ and ‘winners’ halfway through the season? Arnault closes in on Red Bull as Ferrari falls behind (Jul 2024)

FEATURE What could have been — Arnault’s Charles Leclerc tops the podium in Monza as Tifosi look on (Sep 2024)

NEWS Red Bull’s reign continues as Arnault brings home historic P2 in both the Drivers’ and Contructors’ championship during debut season (Nov 2024)

REPORT Arnault promises more competitive 2025 season following already impressive first year on the grid (Jan 2025)

“We find ourselves at the edge of our seats here in Abu Dhabi. It all comes down to this final lap of the season and the battle for the World Championship has reached its peak! Charles Leclerc of Arnault and Max Verstappen of Red Bull are locked in a fierce duel for the ultimate prize.”

“This is the moment every racing fan has been waiting for. The atmosphere here is electric and the stakes couldn’t be higher. Leclerc and Verstappen have been pushing the absolute limits of their cars and their skills throughout this intense race.”

“They certainly have. Both drivers have showcased their exceptional talent and determination all season long. It’s a clash of titans, and now, as they approach the final corners, it’s do-or-die time.”

“Leclerc has been holding onto the lead for the majority of this race but Verstappen is focused in his pursuit. The Dutchman is determined to wrestle this championship away from Leclerc’s grasp.”

“The tension is palpable here as they enter the final sector. Leclerc seems to be holding his ground but Verstappen is right on his tail, looking for the slightest opportunity to strike!”

“This is nail-biting stuff. The championship hangs in the balance as they approach the final turn. Leclerc takes a defensive line but Verstappen moves to the inside. He’s desperately trying to overtake!”

“Verstappen is side-by-side with Leclerc! They’re wheel-to-wheel! What an incredible battle! They both accelerate out of the corner …”

“They’re neck and neck! It’s an all-out sprint to the checkered flag. Who will emerge victorious?”

“Leclerc finds another gear! He edges ahead of Verstappen!”

“It’s a photo finish! They cross the line. And ... it’s Charles Leclerc! Charles Leclerc has done it! Charles Leclerc is the World Champion!”

“What an incredible end to the season. Charles Leclerc and Arnault Racing have taken the championship title in a heart-stopping finale!”

“This is the stuff of legends. Leclerc has proven himself a champion through and through today. The emotion in the Arnault Racing garage is indescribable!”

“What an amazing moment for Leclerc and his team. This race will be remembered for years to come. Congratulations to Charles Leclerc! Congratulations to Arnault Racing!”

y/narnault

Liked by charles_leclerc, arnaultracing, and 938,572 others

y/narnault ✨ Abu Dhabi, 2017 ✨

A chance encounter in the paddock with a hotshot young driver sent us both sprawling to the ground and ignited a spark that changed our lives forever. Our love story began in Yas Marina as Charles celebrated the end of the season after winning the F2 championship. Little did we know that this would be the start of a remarkable journey, both on and off the track

Fast forward to ...

✨ Abu Dhabi, 2025 ✨

As the CEO of Arnault Racing, it fills my heart with immense pride to witness our immensely talented driver win a much deserved World Drivers' Championship. As the wife of Charles Leclerc, it makes me even prouder to see the most amazing person I know finally be granted the fruit of his labors. There has been no sweeter feeling than chasing our dreams hand-in-hand

Eight years later, in Yas Marina once again, our journey came full circle. Our love, like a well-oiled machine, has only grown stronger with each challenge we faced. Working together as a team, we transformed dreams into reality and surpassed every limit. The joy of victory, the adrenaline of the race — it all pales in comparison to the love and support we share

To our extraordinary team at Arnault Racing, thank you for your relentless commitment and tireless efforts. Each one of you has played a vital role in making history this season and we truly could not have done it without you

Charles, my champion, you continue to inspire me every day with your talent, dedication, and resilient spirit. The road here has not always been easy but I am thankful for every obstacle we faced because they made us grow as people and as partners in both love and racing. We have weathered the storms and celebrated the triumphs. The countless hours of hard work, sacrifice, and pouring over data for so long that we forgot the cookies burning in the oven brought us to this extraordinary moment of victory. But beyond the increasingly crowded trophy cases and roaring crowds, it is our love that always shines the brightest. No matter where we may have placed in the standings, I was always content in knowing that we are P1 on the podium of life — and now we stand on top of both together

This chapter is just beginning. There are still many races left to win, many trophies left to raise, and many championships left to clinch

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charles_leclerc From the moment we met, you have seen me not just as a driver or public figure but as a person with hopes, dreams, and flaws. You have been there for me through the setbacks and the victories and your faith in me never has wavered. Your belief in me pushed me to be the best version of myself and I will spend the rest of our lives eternally grateful for being sent such an angel. Our victories are not only measured by the number of trophies or the applause of the crowds but in the quiet moments we get to bask in the life we built together. Our love has always been the beacon that guides me, even in the darkest of times. It is the constant reminder that no matter where we stand in the standings, we have each other to lean on. I have no doubt that it is because of you that I stand here today. You are my pillar of strength, my constant motivation, and my rock. Without your love and support, none of this would have been possible. Thank you, mon amour, for believing in me, for supporting me, and for always standing by my side. It is fate that brought us together and destiny that irreversibly wove our hearts into one

f1wagupdates you two are singlehandedly keeping my belief in true love alive

formulanone how are they still in the honeymoon phase after eight years together and i can’t even get a text back?

arnaultracing there are power couples and then there is THE power couple 🤩

GQ France: An Interview with 2025 Formula 1 World Champion Charles Leclerc

charles_leclerc and y/narnault

Liked by arnaultracing, pierregasly, and 1,854,632 others

charles_leclerc Baby Leclerc will make their F1 debut in August 🍼

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pierregasly hmmm i wonder what happened a little over nine months before the due date?

mickschumacher no wonder we couldn’t find them during the championship party 😳

arnaultracing a championship baby for our champions 🏆

lovelyleclerc oh to be reincarnated as their baby

leclercbabe it’s really getting gifted godly genes, money, and talent 😭

princecharles is it bad that i’m jealous of a baby that hasn’t even been born yet?

[minispidey]

01. Unclaimed Wedding Vows.

Duke James 'Logan' Howlett x f!reader CHAPTER ONE: THE LADY'S DILEMMA

warnings: besides me being extra descriptive, none. Leclaire is just a random last name for reader's family, and isn't coded as any race. OLD MAN LOGAN! ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE. I had a dictionary and a dream.

summary: A new season has dawned for you, Lady Leclaire, and this time, the stakes are higher. Your father is encouraging you to seek out a suitor, a contrast to the previous season when you made your debut but remained a mere spectator, and avoided the social whirl around you. This year, none of the debutants have managed to capture the queen's eye... that is, until the arrival of Duke James Howlett, who has unexpectedly entered the market. His entrance has changed the dynamics of the season entirely, bringing in whispers of intrigue and the promise of romance.

word count: 4.1k no beta we dying like logan 2017 (edit 12/7/24: edited some parts that i thought weren't needed. It just really stretches out the story. Anyways as usual, english is not my first language)

series masterlist.

The Queen is no stranger to the drama and heartache that come with reluctant or unfortunate brides and grooms—after all, her children often create quite the spectacle. The quest for the perfect match is a thrilling dilemma shared by every woman, even the Queen herself.

Under the dulcet tones of courtly sounds, a buzz of pressure was felt as the mamas whispered amongst themselves, feeling that they were up against unfair competition. With every new lady, the stakes climbed higher, and the probability of their daughters getting one of those marvelous matches became even smaller.

All the mamas, except for yours, panicked. You stood among the other women after being cooped up for the entire season. This time, you felt trapped, as your father had finally returned home to guide you.

You watched intently as each young lady glided toward the Queen, curtsying with grace and poise, only to be waved away almost instantly. The Queen sat majestically on her throne, appearing bored, her eyes glancing over the newcomers without a flicker of curiosity or admiration. Each presentation seemed to blend into the next, as though she were trapped in a routine, her expression one of deep ennui. It was clear she had encountered countless hopefuls before, and they were nothing more than fleeting shadows in her world.

"And I assume you didn't have the opportunity to introduce yourself to the Queen during the last season?" your father inquired, his gaze fixed intently on the unfolding presentation.

You released a quiet exhale. "I did not."

"Perhaps it is not too late to gain her blessing then."

You shut your eyes tightly, yearning for the comforting embrace of your soft blankets, wrapped securely in the sanctuary of your bedroom. The dim light of the suffocating room pressed in on you, making every breath feel heavy and labored. Even the tiny, cramped space beneath a table offered a sense of solace, an escape from the atmosphere that surrounded you.

"I believe I do not need the Queen's blessing to gain a husband." You opened your eyes and met the gaze of the men across the room, all ogling you and vying for your attention.

"But it certainly would help."

"Father." As you turned your head to meet his gaze, he gently pressed two fingers against your cheek, a firm yet tender gesture that redirected your focus back to the Queen. The movement felt like a subtle command, leaving you with a sense of unease.

Everyone knew Lord Leclaire’s sweet but spoiled daughter. You were the cherished only child of his first love, a woman whose memory lingered like a delicate perfume throughout the halls. As the sole offspring of a father who mourned a lost love, you basked in the benefits that came with being the only child of a wealthy widower. One of the most significant perks was the freedom to indulge in every whim, as your father poured his affection and resources solely into you, ensuring that your every desire was met with lavish gifts and endless attention.

Deep down, you understood that you were worthy of nothing less than the finest luxuries.

You favored silk that cascaded softly against your skin over any mere satin; you would always choose a decadent cake, rich with layers of flavor, instead of a simple slice of bread. Lace trim, with its intricate beauty, was your preference over the ordinary ribbons that could never capture the same elegance.

It is no different for your future husband. While your father and governess might worry that your high standards would scare men away, the reality is quite the contrary. Instead of feeling intimidated, they find themselves irresistibly drawn to you, captivated by the magnetic allure that lies behind your icy gaze. Even with the cool, distant expression on your features, it only seems to heighten their curiosity and determination, making them yearn to uncover the warmth that they sense lies beneath.

You chose to disregard the men around you, even those who struggled to position themselves beside you. Each one of them was aware of your allure, for you were undeniably the most desirable woman in the room.

There no doubt that you knew exactly what you wanted.

The ideal husband embodies a man of immense respect and admiration within his community, someone whose character and achievements inspire others. He possesses a substantial income that not only assures financial stability but also enables a luxurious lifestyle adorned with beautiful estates and properties. Above all, he shall be someone with whom you share a deep emotional connection, a person who ignites your heart and soul, making you genuinely fall in love.

Even in tough times, your heart stayed open to romance, a belief instilled by your parents' words on love's power. They taught you that every love story holds magic, so you refused to settle for less than your ideals. The thought of growing old alone felt better than being with someone who didn’t meet your high standards for love.

Some mamas convince their daughters to settle for what they can have, and luckily (or unluckily), your mother had passed away so she had no say in who you would marry. But if she were alive, she would encourage you to keep searching for the one.

You sat in front of your dressing table as your father delicately placed down each one of the gifts he bought for you on your soft carpeted floor. All the boxes were wrapped with bright paper and ribbons that shone under soft light.

You absent-mindedly played with a chest filled with a variety of trinkets: delicate porcelain figurines of cats, shimmering glass beads, and rusty old coins, each speaking of far-off places.

"That presentation was a disaster, if I may say so, Father," you remarked. "The Queen seemed unsatisfied and I feel very bad for those young ladies involved."

"Don't worry, my dear. All the young ladies will have another opportunity to flatter the Queen tonight when she hosts her ball," your father said softly, a gentle smile spreading across his face.

He put a slice of cake in front of you, the scent of vanilla and frosting wafting up to greet your senses. "I just brought it home this afternoon. It seemed to be quite the hit at the bakery."

"Even so, the Queen is fussy. She knows exactly what she wants and exactly what she deserves." And you accepted a slice of cake from him, bit into it, and he made no allowance for such an unladylike manner.

"She knows her choice cannot be just a simple lady—someone who can proudly yet modestly reveal she is Her Majesty's favorite, embodying every trait a lady possesses or desires."

You stood up from your mirror and stepped out onto the balcony. The breeze tousled your hair while the sun danced across your skin. Your presence startled a cluster of doves on the railings, who flew away in a flurry of white feathers.

"Perhaps I have a chance..."

Your father smiled, thinking that you would seek the favor of the Queen and then secure a place of honor in her court. However, as he smiled at you with that gleam of expectation in his eyes, your thoughts went elsewhere. You couldn't help but think that if the Queen wielded the power to select her favored ones, then surely you too could find a husband who meets your expectations— someone who embodies those qualities you want and actually deserves your heart.

Far from the Leclaire house, a lavish carriage adorned with intricate gold detailing, and luxurious silk stopped in front of the Queen's grand palace. The arrival drew the eyes of the servants peering from the ornate windows, their breaths caught in awe as the distinguished Duke Howlett stepped out. His walk was far from graceful, marked by a heavy, almost cumbersome stride; yet, with every step he took, he demanded the whole world’s attention, as if the very air shifted at his presence.

The Queen sat on her throne, her heart fluttering with anticipation for her friend’s arrival. She clapped her hands twice, signaling the musicians to stop. As silence enveloped the grand hall, she took a deep breath, savoring the stillness before her friend's entrance.

The elderly man slowly stepped into the room, his soft curled silver hair glinting softly in the light as he bowed his head, a gesture of respect. A sharp jolt of pain surged through his back, causing him to stifle a groan that escaped his lips. His frame remained strong, but telltale signs of age were etched on his skin, and shaking his hands revealed fragility in his bones.

"Is that as low as you can go, old man?" the Queen raised an eyebrow.

The Duke exhaled softly, a hint of relief washing over him as he straightened his posture, pulling his shoulders back. "If I could humble myself any further, Your Majesty," he said with a wry smile, "I would find myself six feet under."

"Logan! My dearest friend, why have you come?" A chuckle escaped the Queen. "I suppose you will be joining the gentlemen this season to search for a bride. You are getting, oh so very old."

With a long sigh, he nodded. "And you would be right."

The Queen drops her cup of tea and her eyes are blown wide open. "Are you trying to kill me? I could have you executed for attempting to do so." she laughed loudly.

"I am the last Howlett. If I want to continue my family name, I need a wife to bear my children." Logan coughed into a handkerchief before quickly composing himself. "Any lady will do, as long as she won't disturb me."

"Nonsense!" the Queen exclaimed, clapping her hands loudly and surprising her ladies, who were busy cleaning up the spilled tea and the broken cup. "You are a highly respected man. A Duke! Do you think I would allow you to marry a simple lady? You shall marry my diamond!"

"While Her Majesty is very kind, I would prefer not to spend too much time searching."

"I know I am very kind," the Queen huffed. "For I would be the one spending too much time looking— I was not even planning on looking for one. You are very welcome."

"I am not very selective, Your Majesty. Any lady will suffice." The Duke shook his head.

"Then you should have married a maid," the Queen said, cutting off the Duke's response with a raised hand. "I do not tolerate objections. I am doing you a favor, and it is an insult to refuse a gift. As your most humble and loyal friend, I cannot accept your decision to marry merely any lady."

From a tender age, the Duke was aware of the dynamics that surrounded individuals of high status. Placed in the role of Duke early in life, he quickly became the center of attention, a figure that drew gaze and admiration from all. At lavish gatherings, young ladies would shamelessly fight for his attention, their motives often far from innocent. Such experiences led him to retreat from the social scene altogether, burying himself in the labyrinthine of his duties.

Years passed since then, and while he amassed vast wealth and commanded respect, the relentless march of time had etched deeper lines into his visage, a testament to his toil. In his pursuit of success, the concept of legacy slipped through his fingers like sand. The urgency of fatherhood, the need to secure a successor to inherit the family fortune and the sprawling estates, faded into the background, overshadowed by the relentless demands of his work.

He retraced his steps through the grand palace hallways, made elegant with tapestries and chandeliers that spoke of the royal family's rich history. The scent of polished wood lingered in the air as he entered his carriage.

As the carriage rolled through the bustling streets of London, he gazed out at the vibrant city. He was heading to his estate—a property that had been neglected from his infrequent visits. Despite its silence and overgrown gardens, he had ensured everything was prepared, as this time he sought a bride.

The estate needed to be more than just a residence; it had to convey wealth and status, a place where a future wife could envision a life of comfort and elegance. As he approached the imposing estate between tall trees and trimmed hedges, a shiver ran down his spine.

Change loomed over him like a storm cloud, heavy and foreboding. Everyone knew that the Duke didn't take kindly to anything that came between himself and his well-planned world.

In a dazzling celebration marking the start of the season, the Queen organized a magnificent ball.

The grand ballroom was decked with sparkling chandeliers, and the air carried the sweet melodies of an orchestra that enticed everyone to dance. The Queen initially wanted not to attend her ball at all. Her change of mind came when there was the unexpected arrival of Duke James Howlett - a man of nobility seeking a worthy Duchess. His presence sparked great commotion, forcing the Queen to reverse her decision and plunge deep into the celebration before her. Everyone moved graciously in unity across the polished floor within the grand ballroom while soft, sweet melodies filtered in the air from the orchestra, wrapping around each of the elegantly attired couples and bouncing off the ceiling lined with sparkling chandeliers.

Amidst the vibrant gathering, you stood there elegantly commanding the room's attention. The soft murmur of admiration reverberated in the air as captivated gazes fell upon you like the breaking of the clouds. Your beauty shone with an enchanting glow and drew intrigued whispers from those around you. The debutantes, dressed in their finest, exchanged glances, all in agreement that you were the epitome of allure, the most desirable woman present.

The men ogled, all desiring you— the impossible. You glanced at them with a sharp look in your eye, ready to pounce and overpower those who dared to come too close. Intimidation ran through the veins of the LeClaire family, a legacy passed down through generations as an artful weapon to draw out the right partner. Your father never quite mastered it, but you had it in spades.

A coarse hand jerked you against the warmth of a muscular body. You gasped sharply, your breath catching as crimson wine splattered across your silk dress, the bright stain blooming like a dark flower against the delicate fabric. Turning to face the source of this unexpected collision, you saw the culprit—a flustered figure retreating into the collar of his tailored suit, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Now you are looking at the rough, ancient man that pulled you against his chest. For a moment you were lost in the green depth of his eyes: the color of a rain-soaked forest. But then, with a sharp jolt, you feel yourself pulling away from his grasp, looking back to the deep red stain on your dress.

"This is silk-" you hissed, your voice laced with barely controlled anger that threatened to bubble over at any moment, like a pot that is about to boil over. Every fiber of your body was aflame with fury as you clutched the fabric, feeling the smooth texture slip through your fingers, a stark contrast to the storm brewing within you.

Before you can vent your pent-up anger, a voice cuts in on you, surprising you by its calmness. "On behalf of the gentleman, I profoundly apologize, my lady," the old man says, his face showing a hint of concern. His eyes meet yours for a moment before he adds, "I will summon a servant immediately to assist you."

His voice slowly relieved the fiery tension within your heart. You took a deep breath, feeling centered "I accept your apology," you responded with an elegant curtsy as if to hold off the weight of the moment. "However, I feel I should retire for the night."

You watch as he opens his mouth, in probable protest, and you spin on your heel, cutting him off before a single word escaped his lips. The atmosphere in the room grew stressful, as if it was squeezing the air from your lungs.

Every glance is like a sharp dart, piercing through you, and one can almost hear the stifled giggles that lie just under the surface. The picture remains in your head: this once-towering ice princess, now reduced to become the target of their teasing, a crimson wine stain spreading like an unwanted prophecy across her elegant dress, an emblem of the embarrassment from the evening.

You stepped warily through the garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of flowers when suddenly a firm hand gripped your wrist.

You turned around quickly with that swift pull and lost your airy handkerchief. As you regained your balance, you looked up at the grizzled old man, his face a weathered map of worry. "My lady," he said, his voice gravelly yet warm, "please don't go just because a gentleman has clumsily spilled a drink upon your dress."

"I've never been one to enjoy parties," you said, your voice almost whispering above the din of conversation around you. You looked down at the dark red wine stain that seemed to mar the elegant weave of your dress. Your sigh was heavy as you continued, "I want only to go home. This accident is just the right reason to slip away."

He bows his head once more as an apology.

As you moved out of the grand palace, the old man lifted his head, and you caught a glimpse of your eyes for a moment as you passed. You half-turned, nodding towards your footman, who stood there just beyond the entrance. At your signal, he ran off, the fine weave of his livery rustling a little as he hastened to summon the carriage.

The afternoon light seeps through the curtains, and your eyes linger on the deep red stains your dress still bears from last night. Running your hand absent-mindedly over the silk, you hear the creak of the door as your maids enter the room.

"My lady," one of the called you, her voice full of excitement. "A package has arrived for you."

They cautiously approached your bed, where a huge light blue box was lying there. It was shrouded in beautiful wrappings, the expensive and opulent silk ribbon beautifully cascading over it. This sight made you curious; hence, you drew nearer to it.

"Who is it from?" Your fingers played gently with the smooth ribbon that bordered the box, feeling its softness as you waited for the surprise inside.

"We cannot say for sure, my lady," the maid said, furrowing her brow with worry. "What are we to do with it? Are we to throw it away?"

"No, I assure you, it is alright." you said, fingers twitching slightly as you fumbled to loosen the flimsy ribbon securing the tie. You gave it a gentle tug, unfolding the layers of paper under your fingers like delicate silken petals.

As you opened the box with utmost care, your gaze fell on a letter in it. The letter had a deep red wax for its seal, and this was stamped with an intricately designed crest that instantly took your breath away. This was undoubtedly a Duke's crest. A feeling of awe swept over you as you softly gasped and stood up in shock. HOWLETT.

"I don't believe it."

You ran back, your breath coming up in expectation as you unfolded the thin tissue paper that covered an amazing sight.

Lying before you was a gown unlike any you had ever seen—a vision of beauty and majesty. The silk shone dimly in the light, and its texture spoke of the skill of the finest artisans in the land. Your heart races for the reality of what actually had happened at the ball the other night: a real apology at the hands of a duke— and this beautiful gown. It's too ridiculous to think that he— the duke would hand to you something this private for you.

Was he scouting you as a potential Duchess?

You could hardly suppress an excited squeal as you sent your maids off, hoping for a few minutes to yourself. Holding the dress up against your chest, you stared at your reflection in the mirror, mesmerized by its beauty. Reaching your bed, you snatched the letter.

As you read the Duke's letter that accompanied the dress, newspapers fluttered all over town with their front pages splashed with the face of Duke James Howlett. His face was everywhere—the center of attention since last night's ball when whispers and glances revealed he was after a wife to elevate to duchess status.

Despite his age, the mamas eagerly nudged their debutantes to charm the Duke. After all, they had high hopes for a prestigious match in high society.

Every lady in town eagerly flocked to the modiste, set on getting new exquisite gowns that would dazzle the Duke at the upcoming ball. Silks and satins fluttered in the air as they envisioned the moment he would notice their carefully crafted attire. Meanwhile, the Duke, unaware of the flurry he inspired, focused on matters far different from the shimmering dresses vying for his attention.

Like when he received the dress he gave you.

"What is this?" he said raising his eyebrow, curiosity dancing across his eyes as he observed the box that his servant held in both hands, the elegant packaging soft to the touch, a deep light blue, and silky ribbon tied across it shining under the warm light of the room. It was that gift he had picked up for you, and couldn't help but wonder at what your reaction had been when you opened it.

He slowly raises the lid of the box.

Inside, the dress lies perfectly folded in delicate fabric. Alongside it is a letter, its envelope decorated with an elegant wax seal. As he tears it open, a wave of fragrance envelops him, the sweet, unmistakable scent of fresh roses wafting through the air and stirring memories within him of when he held you close. He opens the letter, revealing your beautiful handwriting, each stroke flowing across the page.

“Dearest Duke Howlett,

I hope this letter finds you in good spirits. I write to you with a heavy heart regarding the exquisite silk dress you so graciously gifted me.

As you may remember from last night’s event, a man accidentally spilled wine on the dress. Despite my best efforts to remedy the situation, the stain has proven stubborn.

Because of this, I think it’s best to return the dress to you. It deserves to be loved and worn as you intended. I am very sad to part with such a lovely piece, which brought me so much happiness.

Moreover, I find myself at a loss for words, as I cannot comprehend why a man of your esteemed stature would choose to bestow such an exquisite gown upon someone like myself. I am simply a lady, while you are a Duke. If my father were to witness this generous gesture, he might very well assume that you were proposing—a notion that brings a flush to my cheeks.

I deeply appreciate your kindness and generosity, and I hope to have the opportunity to discuss this matter further, perhaps with a dance.

With warmest regards...”

He finally learns your name, and as he reads it repeatedly. He softly whispers it to himself, allowing the syllables to linger in the air. A warm ember ignites in Logan’s chest, a stirring sensation that could be mistaken for something as simple as inflammation. Yet, deep down, he senses it might also be the dawning realization that he may have discovered a potential match—perhaps a true Duchess worthy of his affections.

tag list (open!) btw i cried when yall asked to be tagged ilysm: @dragovegogrimborn @manifester3 @buhitosueco @saltedcoffeescotch @angeiulst @moonpascal @v13nx @cleverfestivalconnoisseur @rexmeshlasblog @disneyprincessbuffyannesummers @trickstersteve @tighrenicotine @luv4kook @steviebbboi @eldauvs @cards-and-daggers @hidden-behind-the-fourth-wall @awsome262338 @lustdotlove @jax-the-oregonian @misscrissfemmefatale @hereforthehitsbaby @lightupsketchersperson @st4rrlighttt @cherrypieyourface @blossoming-hotch @freythecrazyfae @sweetenerobert (shout out to robert for cheering me on while I wrote this with one hand and a dictionary in the other)

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: I would like to request a Jenson Button x driver!reader they have been rivals since their karting days and Jenson has been crushing on reader for years. He flirts with her every chance he gets but she's completely oblivious to it since she thinks he's just doing it to distract her from the race and she hates him for it since she's not taken seriously by the drivers and reporters because of it. So Jensen wins the championship and he throws a big party with the team. Reader attends to congratulate him so they partied and they have a heart to heart conversation in which they finally confess their feelings to each other.. (anonymous)

Word Count: 1120 words

(author's note: i can't tell if this is bad or not, i've been slightly stressed out due to my job so i hope the jenson girlies enjoy this 🥹)

When Jenson began carting at a young age, he thought he would walk away with trophies and medals. He did get both of those things, but he also developed a crush on a girl who was convinced he hated her.

Y/N L/N was the bane of Jenson’s existence. He would say his rival if anyone asked him what she was to him, mainly because he was far too embarrassed to admit that he was completely and utterly in love with her.

Both Jenson and Y/N had successful carting careers and, despite their rivalry, made it to Formula 1 at the same time. Jenson signed with Williams and Y/N signed for Red Bull. Although the pair were much older now, their childhood competitiveness had followed them into F1 which caused many disputes between the two drivers.

Their careers in motorsports flourished and Jenson moved to Brawn GP, where he would unknowingly win the Championship. But the longer Y/N stayed in Formula 1, the more unbearable the reporters became. Question after question about her and Jenson, their ‘relationship’ and if being a female driver was more difficult.

It was the final race of the 2009 season and the Abu-Dhabi air was stifling. Y/N stood outside the Red Bull garage, holding a microphone for the interview that was about to begin.

“So, final race of the season. Are you nervous?” The interviewer asked.

“Well, I’m nervous before every race if I’m honest. The last race of the season is worse though because the stakes are always so much higher.”

“How do you feel about Jenson’s position in the Championship? If he finishes in the points this race he’s pretty much guaranteed a win?”

“What does Jenson have to do with me? I’m glad he’s performing well but that doesn’t affect me at all. I’m my own driver, not an extension of Jenson.”

“Right, sorry I apologise.”

At that moment Jenson walked past and was caught by the cameras. When he realised it was Y/N being interviewed he turned around and smiled at her.

“You look gorgeous today Y/N, it's gonna be hard for me to concentrate on the race knowing you look that good!” Jenson shouted over at her, throwing her a wink at the same time.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably on the spot, she knew all too well what was coming.

“Do you think it’s fair that your gender can become a distraction for the other drivers, especially ones who have important races coming up?”

Jenson was mortified, he didn’t realise that his stupid joke was going to cause the interviewer to ask such an inappropriate question.

“I was only joking around, she isn’t actually a distraction to us. Y/N deserves to be here as much as the rest of us-”

“I’m finished with this interview, thank you for having me,” Y/N stated, passing the microphone back to the interviewer. She disappeared into the garage, leaving Jenson outside with an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

Before they knew it, all the drivers sat in their cars, lined up and ready to race. The lights went out slowly and they set off. It was an exciting race throughout and by the end, Sebastian came out on top, followed by Y/N and then Jenson.

However, the amount of points gave Jenson his first Championship win, and he couldn’t be happier. Of course, all the journalists, reporters and interviewers forgot to congratulate Y/N on her P2 finish. She was overlooked. Again.

Celebrations were in full force for Jenson’s win. His house was packed with drivers and team staff and the sound of music and cheers filled the room. Drinks were flowing and the evening air was cool as it seeped into the room through the open patio doors.

Y/N had turned up to the party, but only because Sebastian had forced her. Part of her was cheering for Jenson but another part of her remembered how he had toyed with her feelings all those years. She moved through the masses of bodies and grabbed a drink.

Eventually, the pounding of the music and heat from the people became too much and Y/N headed outside onto the balcony. She took a deep breath, allowing the bitter air to fill her lungs. Gazing at the sun that had begun to set, she didn’t realise she was no longer alone on the balcony.

“Congrats on P2, you drove incredibly,” A voice said, cutting into the silence.

Y/N spun her head around, her face dropping when she realised it was Jenson.

“Oh, thanks. I should be congratulating you though. How does it feel to be a World Champion?”

“Pretty good, I’m not gonna lie. While I’m here, I just want to apologise for earlier. I didn’t think before I spoke and I didn’t realise that my stupid, distasteful joke would make you be treated like that.”

“It’s fine, I’m used to it. It’s nothing new, questions like that have been asked since our karting days.”

“It’s still not right. Especially when everyone thinks my feelings for you are just a joke.”

Jenson froze after he realised what he said. Y/N’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.

“You- You like me? You’re telling me that you’ve been telling the truth all along?”

Jenson scratched the back of his head awkwardly, “This isn’t how I wanted to tell you, but yeah. I like you. I have since our first kart race. I knew the minute we built up our rivalry that I wanted to be more than friends. But all this time I thought you hated me. So I kept quiet-”

“Jenson.”

“I didn’t know how to speak to you about it. I also thought you would reject me and I didn’t want the media to scrutinise you more than they already do. I just-”

“Jenson!”

Jenson stopped his rambling at the sound of Y/N’s raised voice.

“I like you too. I can’t believe I thought you were pretending to like me all along.”

Staring intently at each other, Jenson leaned down and closed the gap between the pair. He captured Y/N’s lips in a soft kiss and she smiled into it. When they finally pulled away, Y/N wrapped her arms around Jenson’s middle and squeezed, enveloping him in a hug.

Jenson leaned his head onto Y/N’s and the pair stayed tangled in the warm embrace of each other as the sun finally disappeared and was replaced by the moon. Stars twinkled in the sky, but nothing shined brighter than the smile on Jenson’s face as he looked down at the girl he had pined for all those years.

[drdemonprince]

Hey Devon. This is related to community-building ask, as I feel it kinda hit something in me, and that is my frustration with my local queer "main community", who is mostly made up of people who can work/hang together (people in visual and performative arts, LGBT NGOs, event organisers and so on). It's so closed off and so circlejerk-y that it's demoralising. I've been trying to fit in ever since I started being an adult, almost ten years ago, but I have never made any progress on getting to any of its members. I have made queer friends who are wonderful people, and as you said in the previous ask, that is enough and makes a community of our own already. Nevertheless, it is frustrating for all of us to go to a queer space/show/event just to see that the crowd there is made up of people who know each other and talk to each other and make big groups, while we're just sitting there. It brings us down to know that for queer political events like protests (which are ofc organised by them), we have no one left to fall back on except us. It makes it weird when only one of us is able to go protest, they'd rather not go because it feels so lonely to be sitting around all those people who just know each other, who have been passing by us for so many times over the years, and yet never take interest in even saying "hi" or whatever. It makes us think that they're fucking disingenuous and their "community building" is a load of crap. And I don't really want to feel like that about my people, but look at me, after almost ten years in my city, I fucking do.

Hi there, thanks for your message.

Let me just say that while I understand where the perception comes from, the queer people who put on shows, run nonprofits, and go out clubbing are not "The main lgbtq community" in your city. They're just a bunch of cliquish, careerist, young, privileged people who market themselves as such because they've been convinced that's what the "queer community" is and because doing so helps them get butts in seats at events.

I've seen theater kids, drag performers, DJs, comedians, party promoters, and other various people of the attention-seeking arts (said neutrally) do this all my fucking life. They stake a claim on building "feminist spaces" and "anti-racist" spaces, too, among other things, and use those higher values to sell tickets to their shit too. It's a way to make every tragedy that strikes oppressed people into an advertisement for their burlesques and shit. Don't let the self-important myopia get to you.

The real queer community? In any given city? Well, it's not any one thing. There is no singular "queer community". What people often refer to as the LGBTQ community or the queer community is a demographic, not an actual community. That demographic is marketed to, including by fellow queer people, but that does not a community make.

A community consists of people who know one another, and have enduring bonds, and who have shown up for one another mutually in multiple ways. A lot of these hot cool stylish young queer people are actually merely colleagues of one another. When there's a conflict, or a cancellation, or a venue that closes, they will be tossed to the wind like so many dandelion seeds. Compare that to you and your friends, who can and do remain in contact as the seasons of life change.

It is demoralizing to see so many people who talk a big game about community fail to show up to do activist work that is meaningful to you. I can't deny feeling the same way. For many years, I dated an actor who was very plugged into the local scene, and while his theater company had a reputation for being progressive, trans inclusive, even left-leaning, almost nobody in that collective did anything for the broader 'community' at all. They were all too busy being overworked five nights a week for like a $200 per week stipend, writing plays in which they repeated leftist platitudes but did relatively little.

I'm being a big overly cynical here -- the theater did just put on a big pro Palestinian fundraiser -- but the fact is that running a club, a theater, a local education org, or a regular drag show is a business, and in the end the business always comes first. Even when the members of that business might not want it to. They're often extremely exploited and underpaid, which is part of what makes them so hungry to market themselves and maintain their careers. I have sympathy for it. But meaningful social connections and local impact it does not make.

All of which is to say: please try to remember that these people presenting themselves as the symbols of the local "community" are just a bunch of artistic kids who are trying to make a living doing what they love. They're naive, exploited, a little self-absorbed yes, but they're ultimately not that important. they just deal in a very self-important line of work.

There are SO many queer people all around you who never go to those fucking clubs and shows and aren't even on instagram. The "main" queer community, demographically, is more like the nerdy 40 year old gay couple that lives down the street from you who goes out to the movies once or twice a month and holds board game nights with their friends. The "main" queer community is volunteering at the zoo, going camping with their fraternity brothers that they met 20 years ago, working at the car dealership, planting tomatoes at the local community garden, taking care of elders with dementia, organizing weekly running groups.

You can find people like this -- total normies -- who will care about causes greater than themselves and want to contribute to community building efforts. Many of those people are already doing a ton to make community. It's just less sexy and less self-consciously queer than like, the dance parties. It's also more diverse, accessible, and capable of meeting people where they are at.

It does sound like you would like to meet more activist friends / politically engaged friends, and for that I'd say try looking at pro-Palestinian (for example) events and spaces and seeing who turns up there, checking out a local food not bombs chapter, looking up local mutual aid groups or buy nothing groups, getting involved in hyper-local initiatives, and putting what feelers you can on local forums and personals boards (like Lex, local Facebook groups, local Meetup groups, etc). You probably wont find a perfect space, but you will find worthwhile people scattered everywhere you look!

[ladylightning]

supernatural s2 is SO GOOD because every decision has more weight because the after life is still unknown to us. we know there is something after death but we don't know quite what that is. the season starts with tessa the reaper begging dean to come with her. to where? she cannot say. when john dies it’s devastating to the brothers that he’s no longer here but elsewhere. but it’s even more devastating as they come to the slow realization that elsewhere is probably hell, whatever that looks like. sam and dean don't know anything more than the audience does about hell.

there is an effort to exorcise the possessed and save them instead of letting them die because there is no promise of heaven to be made. the ghost in roadkill wants to know what happens when she crosses over and sam and dean just don’t know. where do the monsters go when they die? are there angels? is there a god? sam and dean don’t know. sam more than anything wants to believe. and secretly dean does too. but they just don’t know.

when sam dies where does he go? dean doesn’t know. we never get to see it. and more than that. does dean truly believe that he would be sent to the same hereafter as his brother after everything he has done? all dean knows is that there is a way to damn your eternal soul to hell and there is a way to bring his brother back from the unknown and he will choose that path without hesitation over and over and over again.

the second the angels are introduced we lose that sense of unknown. while the stakes are higher in seasons 4-5 the second we can see behind the curtain it’s over. yes you can damn the world and start the apocalypse but at least you KNOW. you know there is an afterlife. a heaven. a hell. a hereafter. and all the people who die will end up will end up where they belong so how guilty can you feel using a demon knife to kill an innocent? how wrong is it to drain the host for blood? they’ll end up in heaven after all. no more pain. and that is how only the winchester family drama becomes important to the brothers, because they KNOW the end is not the end. there’s more than just ghosts and demons and reapers. there is a heaven. and if there is a heaven every wrong bad thing in the narrative can be brushed away by the characters or the audience as “well at least they are at peace in heaven now.” they do this to jimmy novak and ash and pamela and lord knows who else.

season 2 sam and dean don’t have this opt out. every choice they make is so much heavier because they just. don’t. know.

[floodonthefloor]

can i interest you with a rhaenicent au where rhaenyra is a football player who injured her ankle post season and had to see a therapist which turned out be alicent... AS A SUCKER OF SPORTS AU AND RHAENYRA IN CLOTHING APPAREL

ok i wrote a one shot for u rated T

~

It's one thing to get injured mid-game; there's a sense of nobility to it, a sense of look at me, limping off the field, brave and unbothered, cheers from the crowd for Rhaenyra simply hobbling away. It's another thing entirely to twist your fucking ankle during a fucking friendly.

She should have known, really, that it would end up like this. The pitch is damp, there are patches of mud from cleats trampling the grass, and Coach Tyrell is running them to the bone, and Rhaenyra’s in a foul fucking mood.

Still, she plays like winning will erase every mess she's ever made off the field, which — yeah — talk about setting yourself up for failure, considering she's made a lot of fucking mistakes, and the defenders are closing in, and Laena's in the center with her hand raised signalling for a pass, but Rhaenyra gets distracted, thinks about how Viserys is probably at Aegon's training right now, because Aegon plays men's football, and it's just much higher stakes, you see, my dear—

And Rhaenyra shifts her weight to the left to feint one of the defenders, but then her cleat slips on the fucking mud and she feels her knee twist awkwardly, and feels the pain shooting up her leg before she goes down hard.

Rhaenyra tries to get up immediately — pride, stubbornness, embarrassment, whatever — but the pain lances sharp, she grimaces before she can stop it. Laena sprints towards her.

“You alright?” Laena extends a hand that Rhaenyra reaches for.

“My knee,” she grits out. “I — fuck —” she hisses when she rises. “I think I’ve fucked it up.”

“Okay. Alright.”

Coach Tyrell does a half-jog over to them. 

“Targaryen?” she asks, frowning. “No need to play for a foul here, just a friendly —”

“Yeah, no,” Rhaenyra grumbles, putting an arm around Laena as Laena guides her off the field. “No, it’s real.”

“Take it slow,” Laena murmurs. 

They get into the changing rooms, where Laena calls over one of the first aid attendants.

“Think she’s fucked up her knee,” Laena says as the attendant gets Rhaenyra to extend her leg, which hurts like fucking hell. 

“Could be a sprain,” the attendant says, her face a little concerned. “Maybe worse. We’ll need to get it checked, but you should stay off it for now? I’ll get you some ice?”

Rhaenyra nods, leans back against the wall, huffing. “Fucking great. Just great.”

“Cool down, Targaryen,” Laena says, sitting beside her as the attendant goes into the office. “Not the end of the world.”

“Terrible timing,” Rhaenyra says, referring to the fact that post-season is over in, like, two months, and sprains take forever to heal.

“It’s always terrible timing,” Laena says. “You’ll be fine. Stubborn streak, and all.”

Rhaenyra lets out a frustrated breath, staring at the opposite row of lockers. “Just feels like another thing I’ve fucked up,” she says quietly.

“Rhaenyra.” Laena’s voice is quiet, serious, bereft of the playfulness from before. “You didn’t fuck it up. It’s just shitty luck.”

The attendant returns, handing Rhaenyra an ice pack. 

“Fifteen minutes,” she instructs, “I’m going to go contact the physiotherapist -”

“I don’t need physio —”

The attendant gives Rhaenyra a look, then turns to Laena. “Would you mind spotting our dear friend here while she tries to stand on it?”

Fine. Fuck you. 

Rhaenyra glares at the attendant, pushes herself off of the bench, only to immediately have to grab onto Laena as the pain flares hot and sharp, her knee almost buckling underneath her. 

“Yeah, you seem fine,” Laena deadpans as the attendant just quirks her brow and goes back into the office. “Let’s get back out there.”

Rhaenyra groans, feels pain and defeat — she can already see the look on Viserys’ face when she tells him.

Oh, that’s just fine, my sweet— injuries happen, rest is good, while if Aegon ended up with a similar injury, Viserys would be flying in physiotherapists from all over the globe in order to find the perfect one, since Aegon is the one who plays professional men’s soccer and is paid millions a year —

The attendant returns, holding a piece of paper. “Alicent Hightower is fantastic at her job,” she says, passing it to Rhaenyra. “If anyone will have you in tip-top shape before your first match, it’ll be her.”

Rhaenyra takes the paper, folds it, twists her mouth.

Horseshit. This is all such fucking horseshit.

*****

PAIN IS TEMPORARY. GREATNESS LASTS FOREVER.

Rhaenyra glares at the cheesy fucking poster— it’s of a determined-looking athlete mid-stride, beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. She’s been here a handful of times already for smaller injuries, and this won’t be any different, it won’t— she’ll be back tomorrow, if she can help it, and it doesn’t matter what this physiotherapist has to say, because —

“— Rhaenyra Targaryen?”

She looks from the poster to see who she can only presume is Alicent Hightower, waiting for Rhaenyra. Her dark red hair is pulled up into a ponytail, arms crossed, sharp eyes, really fucking fit, what in the fucking shit —

(Their last physiotherapist was a lovely old man named Mellos who always smelled a little bit like mothballs and loved to rubber-stamp them.)

Rhaenyra rises slowly, her knee still smarting, but she doesn’t show it, because she doesn’t have to, she’s fine.

“...That’s me.”

“Nice to meet you. I've heard a lot,” Alicent says, though not quite warm, like she’s not someone who’s impressed by things like reputation or fame. She gestures with her chin for Rhaenyra to follow.

“Good things?”

Alicent doesn’t turn around as they walk down the hall. “Things.”

The fuck —

“Oh. Good.” 

Alicent shuts the door behind her as Rhaenyra takes a seat, drops onto the table. 

“I’m sure this will be quick,” Rhaenyra says casually. “Just need you to give me a few exercises to get me back on track.”

This doesn’t get her a response; Alicent’s scrolling through something on her iPad before she sets it down, grabs a clipboard and pulls up a chair to sit directly in front of Rhaenyra.

“When does the pain flare up the most?”

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw. All the time.

“Just when I put weight on it.”

“Any swelling or bruising?”

“Some swelling. Bruising’s mostly gone, though -”

“- And the pain? How would you rate it, on a scale of one to ten?”

“…Depends,” Rhaenyra replies, nonchalant. “Walking— a three. Running, more like a six. But I can handle it -”

“Any pain at rest? Or only during activity?”

Rapid-fire.

“Sometimes at rest. When I wake up in the mornings.  But, again— it goes away, it doesn’t last that long.”

Alicent just looks at Rhaenyra like she doesn’t believe her. “…Right.”

She asks a few more questions— enough that it almost feels like she repeats a few, which Rhaenyra realizes a little too late that she’s doing to try and get the truth out of Rhaenyra.

Fucking physiotherapists. 

"Okay— I'm going to take a look at it— okay if I touch?"

Beyond fucking okay —

"Yep. Sure. Mhm."

Rhaenyra is only a human being with eyes who is being touched by literally the most beautiful woman she's seen in ages, and Rhaenyra feel the warmth of Alicent’s skin through the thin fabric of her shorts, can’t help but notice how the light catches the few loose strands of auburn hair framing her face —

This is ridiculous, you’re being sodding ridiculous, you just need to get laid because it’s been forever —

She tries to focus on literally anything else, but the room feels suddenly smaller, the air charged, and it’s hard to pretend like she’s not hyper-aware of every inch of space between them.

But Alicent is focused, her gaze steady as she lifts Rhaenyra’s calf, guiding it carefully to the right angle. 

“Tell me when it starts to hurt,” she says, her voice calm, professional.

Rhaenyra clears her throat, willing her brain to cooperate. 

“Uh, yeah, yep. It’s… fine right now.”

Alicent’s hands linger for a moment longer, adjusting Rhaenyra’s position. Her touch is deliberate, almost impersonal, but something about it sends a small jolt up Rhaenyra’s spine, and she can’t help the hitch in her breath — fuck —

Please tell me she didn’t hear that —

Alicent glances up, frowning slightly.

“...Everything okay?”

Shit, fuck —

“—Fine,” Rhaenyra replies too quickly, voice tight. “Totally fine.”

Alicent arches an eyebrow but doesn’t comment. Instead, she presses gently on Rhaenyra’s thigh, testing the range of motion. “Let me know if it gets too uncomfortable.”

Rhaenyra tries to steady her breathing.

This is physio, not whatever the fuck you think it is, Alicent Hightower is your physiotherapist, and Alicent Hightower is in close proximity, and her brows are furrowed in concentration, and I think I smell citrus in her shampoo —

“You’re tense,” Alicent observes suddenly, her voice breaking the silence. “Relax, please.”

Rhaenyra’s laugh comes out strangled. 

“Hard to relax when—” She stops herself, the words almost slipping out — when you’re touching me like that or looking at me like that while looking like that —

What the fuck is wrong with me—

Alicent looks up, curious. “When…?”

Rhaenyra swallows, her mouth dry. “...When I’m thinking about how long this is going to take.

Alicent’s eyes narrow, as if she’s not quite buying the deflection. But she only nods, her tone matter-of-fact.

“Well. That depends on how well you listen.”

“Right,” Rhaenyra mutters, feeling slightly relieved that the moment passes without further comment. “I’ll try to be a better student, then.”

“Good,” Alicent says, but there’s a faint, knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she shifts her grip and continues the stretch.

“…It’s looking like a ligament tear, and not a sprain,” Alicent murmurs finally, setting Rhaenyra’s leg down and writing notes down.

Oh, fuck.

Rhaenyra shrugs. “I mean— probably not, those are bad, and this doesn’t feel bad— it’s temporary, it’ll be fine —”

“Just because it’s temporary doesn’t mean it won’t impact you long-term,” Alicent says, looking up at Rhaenyra with a furrowed brow.

“Yeah,” Rhaenyra mutters, “Got that from the posters.”

Alicent’s lips press together, as though keeping herself from laughing, and she shrugs, looks back down at her clipboard. “…Those are pretty terrible, yes.”

It’s a nice moment of levity that Rhaenyra tries to take advantage of. 

"A woman with taste."

Alicent snorts. "Bar seems low, if that's your idea of good taste."

"...My bar is quite high, actually."

Alicent looks up, eyebrow quirked, and Rhaenyra decides to be bold and meets her eyes, knows that sometimes, if she flirts just enough, people will generally be a bit more lenient.

"That so?" Alicent murmurs, looking back down at her clipboard, though Rhaenyra doesn't miss the slight pink that appears in her cheeks.

"That's so. I'd say you clear it, though."

Alicent's pen stops writing for a satisfying moment, and Rhaenyra waits for her rebuttal, but she just clears her throat and keeps writing, doesn't respond.

Rhaenyra continues, a little flustered. "Okay, but— long story short, it’s fine. I just need you to tell me how to stretch it and I can go, you don’t have to —”

“— Are you any good at football, Rhaenyra?” Alicent asks, not looking up from her clipboard.

“…I’m sorry?”

Alicent finishes writing whatever notes she was jotting down and sets her pen on top of the clipboard, giving Rhaenyra a hard glare. 

“Are you good at football.”

“I mean — captain of the national women’s team, so— I’d say I’m pretty good, yes -?”

“— Mhm, right. You’d say you earned it, though, yes? Years of training, practice, et cetera.”

Okay— she’s fit and rude —

Which is an unfortunate combo, really, because Rhaenyra's always had a tendency to try and impress women who are fit and rude —

“…Yes?”

Alicent nods, resolute. “I’m a physiotherapist on retainer for three premiere leagues — ones even bigger than yours, mind you —”

“— Oh, I doubt any are bigger than mine,” Rhaenyra quips back, only to turn bright red immediately because what the fuck are you doing making dick size jokes in front of this physiotherapist, what the fuck are you doing —

“…Anyway,” Alicent says, clearing her throat, and Rhaenyra does notice her ears turn a little red, which is interesting, to say the least — “I’ve earned my keep. Same as you. If you want to get back on the pitch, you need to listen to me.”

Rhaenyra’s still trying to push down the flush in her cheeks, trying to focus on anything but the fact that she just made an accidental dick joke to a woman who is both fit and determined to put Rhaenyra in her place. 

“...Fine,” Rhaenyra mutters, half a grumble. “What do I have to do.”

Alicent leans back slightly, crossing her arms, clearly not swayed by Rhaenyra’s attempt at compliance. “First, you’re going to stop thinking you know better than me. You may know how to play football, but I know how to fix you so you that can play it. Understood?”

Rhaenyra clenches her jaw again, nods once.

“And second,” Alicent continues, casual, “You need to accept that you might not make it back in time for the season opener.”

No.

Rhaenyra feels the air rush out of her chest.

���Excuse me -?”

“- If the damage is as bad as I think it is," Alicent says, and holds Rhaenyra’s gaze, unflinching. "Rushing recovery isn’t just dangerous—it’s reckless. You push too hard, too soon, and you risk re-injury. Maybe even worse.”

Rhaenyra’s throat tightens, her whole body going rigid. 

Not the fucking season opener, not after a fucking injury from a friendly, no no no no—

“You don’t— you don’t know that for sure.”

Alicent doesn’t flinch, doesn’t soften. “No, I don’t. But I know enough to recognize the risk. You have to let this heal properly, or you’re gambling with your entire career.”

Rhaenyra can feel her temper rising, hot and volatile. “You think I don’t know that?” Her voice is raw, a mix of anger and desperation. “You think I’m not aware of what’s at stake- ?”

“I think you’re scared,” Alicent says quietly, with an unwavering certainty. “And I think you’re letting that fear make decisions for you.”

Rhaenyra glares at her, eyes blazing. “You don’t know me -"

“No,” Alicent concedes, her voice low but still firm. “I don’t. But I know this injury. I know what it’s done to players who didn’t listen, who thought they could just push through it.”

She pauses, her gaze still locked on Rhaenyra, something different there, something like —

Enough, she's telling you bad fucking news —

“And... I don’t want that to be you.”

And Alicent sounds so sincere, so gentle that it cuts right through Rhaenyra’s anger and leaves just a raw and exposed wound —

I can’t miss the season opener, I can’t, Viserys was going to come and he never goes to my matches, ever —

“I can’t miss it, Alicent -”

“- I get it,” Alicent says, leaning forward, placing a reassuring hand on Rhaenyra’s knee, and it’s not clinical this time, it’s not practiced, it’s soft with a thumb rubbing along her knee and Rhaenyra might either cry or explode. “I really do. But sometimes— missing one game means you can play the rest, yeah?”

“I can’t just miss it -”

“— You have to see the bigger picture, here.” Alicent gestures towards Rhaenyra’s knee. 

“I can’t.”

Alicent leans forward, slowly, deliberately, and okay, there’s absolutely something here, Rhaenyra can’t be crazy— her heart is hammering a little too loudly, the air feels a little too thick. “Then let me see it for you, Rhaenyra. Let me help you get better.”

Rhaenyra remembers a similar conversation she’d had with Mellos, years ago— he’d told her she would have to miss semi-finals, and she’d yelled at him until he had to call Coach Tyrell to put Rhaenyra in her place, and even then Rhaenyra had refused, until Tyrell threatened to kick her off the team.

But Alicent Hightower looks up at Rhaenyra now like I’ll help you, just let me help you, and Rhaenyra came in here ready for a fucking fight, ready to tell whoever the fuck it is that tells her she needs rest to fucking fuck right off, but Rhaenyra looks at Alicent and thinks —

Yeah. Okay. 

She swallows, hard.

“Yeah,” she says, voice a little hoarse. “Okay.”

[flxfthm]

I don't know if you ever said it before, but do you think Gabriel was a good villain?

mmm i guess the answer is yes because i think he's a good character? and the things that make him a "bad" villain are intentional flaws and weaknesses that make him more human. he's arrogant, short-sighted, and all his wins are attributed to outside help from nathalie, tomoe, or even felix !!! but he's not really meant to be seen as a schemer, as the way he exerts power over people is through his status. as he claims in pretention and as felix highlights in his play, the empire he's built and the resources he has access to make him the most intimidating, it's about "gabriel agreste" as a symbol of influence, who can control people in more ways than one.

he shines the most in S5 as he fully loses it and his dehumanization of adrien reaches ridiculously cruel extremes with the alliance rings, which are one of my personal favorite visual metaphors in the show altogether. it's sort of what i'm getting at, that you can see gabriel increasingly more corrupt with every passing season, and with that he also loses all the plausible deniability he was operating with from the start. the agreste story arc of S1-S5 is ultimately about questioning the consequences of our choices and the power we each hold as individuals, and gabriel is a physical manifestation of our worst possible selves. he's unapologetically selfish from his first to last appearance and even when he seems to come to recognize the results of his insanity, he cowardly leaves marinette to clean up his mess & deal with the aftermath.

while nathalie snapped out of it earlier than him & tried making amends for her actions by doing the bare minimum for adrien with the time she had left, and as felix ended up trading his cynicism for a positive outlook through the power of love, gabriel remained stubborn in his ways and his goal changed from the noble-sounding promise to reunite his family to, like, sticking it to those morally righteous brats as he grew mad with power. like akumas are people possessed by their negative emotions, gabriel is consumed by his regrets without even realizing it, and he's a cautionary tale for marinette to remember so that she doesn't end up like him. felix got to find out for himself pretty quickly how it felt becoming the monster that he thought his father was, that gabriel agreste was, and he immediately changed his path. but for marinette, whose life mirrors gabriel's own, the stakes are much higher and she's yet to come to terms with whether the choices she made in the S5 finale & london special were morally reprehensible after all. even with his physical disappearance, gabriel's control of the media, the people, and his son, have all been passed down to marinette and he still lives on through her. she could arbitrarily sympathize with felix's motivations as they both fought for adrien's sake and eventually their own romantic interests, but this time she's in a situation that would greatly affect and endanger her own life, and that's where the question initially posed to gabriel comes back to her - how far is she willing to go to keep things as they are, and how long will it be before she's also consumed by regrets?

the marinette/felix/gabriel spectrum really fascinates me because these characters have a ton of flaws in common as well as a similar way of thinking, and the distinction only lies in how instilled those mindsets are, and how easy or hard it would be to change them. marinette is always second-guessing, always unsure of herself; felix knows who he is, he has causes he vehemently advocates for but he's willing to make the occasional sacrifice or two if they'll benefit him in the long run, and he'll learn from past mistakes when things blow up in his face - and as for gabriel? he never makes any compromises, never reflects on himself, not once does he try and make an attempt until it's too late to change things.

and the way all of this ties with the show's message definitely makes him an incredible villain to me. thematically, he archieved his purpose in miraculous' first story arc and was an amazing nemesis to the main character. my only real complaints are only about how much more could've been done with these parallels while he was still active as the primary antagonist, or how we were only told about gabriel's past in the last minute, even if it was purposefully hidden. however i'm really excited for lila to succeed him as the theme of lies will surely be the most prominent in the second story arc, and i hope i'm correct in assuming that'll mean gabriel replacing emilie as the entity the narrative revolves around.

[en-lov]

love in the air

sunghoon x fem!reader ┋ cw: mean boy sunghoon, angst, lowercase intended, 500-1k wc, not proofread (let me know if i missed something!)

there was no doubt that slytherin and gryffindor were rivals, as for you and sunghoon it was no different. the animosity between the two of you had been brewing since the first match of the season. slytherin versus gryffindor. it had been a brutal game, with both sides playing their hearts out, but in the end, slytherin had won by a single point. sunghoon had made sure to rub it in every chance he got. he wasn’t content with just winning; he needed to make you feel like a failure for losing.

“maybe if you spent more time practicing and less time talking, you might actually score next time,” he’d sneered at you in the corridor a few days after the match. his words had stung, but you’d fired back with equal venom, refusing to let him see how much his taunts hurt.

“maybe if you weren’t so full of yourself, you wouldn’t need to compensate by being a jerk,” you’d shot back, earning a cold, disdainful smirk from him. it was a battle of wills, each of you refusing to back down.

as the season went on, the tension between you and sunghoon only grew. every time gryffindor and slytherin faced off, it felt like a personal grudge match. your teammates noticed it too, and they’d often tease you about it, suggesting that maybe the reason you and sunghoon were so hostile was because there was something more beneath the surface. you’d always laugh it off, insisting that there was no way you could ever like someone as insufferable as him.

but then, during the final match of the season, something changed.

it was gryffindor versus slytherin again, and the stakes were higher than ever. the quidditch cup was on the line, and both teams were determined to win. the match was intense, with both sides fighting tooth and nail for every point. you were in the zone, flying faster and harder than you ever had before. nothing mattered except the game.

then, in a split second, everything went wrong. you’d been diving for the quaffle, but another player collided with you mid-air, knocking you off course. you lost your grip and started to fall. the world spun around you, and for a terrifying moment, you thought you were going to hit the ground.

but before you could, a strong hand grabbed your arm, yanking you back onto your broomstick. you looked up, dazed, and found yourself staring into sunghoon’s dark eyes. he was glaring at you, but there was something else in his expression too—something you couldn’t quite place.

“watch where you’re going, idiot,” he snapped, but there was an edge of concern in his voice that threw you off. before you could respond, he let go of your arm and zoomed off, leaving you hovering in place, stunned.

after the match, which gryffindor narrowly won, you couldn’t stop thinking about that moment. sunghoon had saved you. he didn’t have to, but he did. it didn’t make sense. he hated you, didn’t he?

the question gnawed at you for days, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore. you confronted him in the hallway, determined to get some answers.

“why did you save me?” you demanded, blocking his path.

sunghoon rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed. “what are you talking about?”

“during the match. you didn’t have to catch me, but you did. why?”

he sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “i don’t know. it was just instinct. maybe i didn’t want to win that way. does it matter?”

“it matters to me,” you insisted, refusing to back down.

for a moment, he just stared at you, his expression unreadable. then, to your surprise, he softened, just a little. “look, just because i’m competitive doesn’t mean i want you to get hurt, alright? we might be on opposite teams, but that doesn’t mean i want you dead.”

the admission caught you off guard, and for the first time, you saw something other than arrogance in his eyes. there was vulnerability there, buried deep, but it was there. maybe he wasn’t as heartless as he wanted everyone to believe.

“so, you don’t hate me?” you asked, the question slipping out before you could stop it.

sunghoon scoffed, but there was no real malice in it. “hate’s a strong word. i just… you’re annoying, alright? always so stubborn and determined. but i guess i can respect that.”

you blinked, not sure what to say. this was the closest thing to a compliment you’d ever gotten from him.

“you’re not so bad yourself,” you finally muttered, feeling a strange warmth in your chest. it was the first time you’d ever admitted it, even to yourself, but maybe—just maybe—there was something more between you and sunghoon than just rivalry.

he smirked at your words, but this time, it wasn’t mocking. “don’t go getting soft on me, gryffindor. we’re still enemies on the pitch.”

“we’ll see about that,” you shot back, a small smile tugging at your lips.

and for the first time, sunghoon didn’t respond with a sneer or a sharp retort. instead, he just looked at you, his gaze lingering a little longer than usual, before he turned and walked away.

as you watched him go, you couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, the line between enemies and something more had started to blur.

[cherryredlove]

hi darling!! i just saw your modern!aemond one-shot with a model!reader and i just love it, and i wanted to ask for another one shot with a model!reader, not necessarily a smut, i mean,it could be them as a couple just taking a vacation in the countryside or on a paradisiacal beach or even simply Aemond supporting his girlfriend at a rehearsal or fashion show, or the opposite. <3

hiya! absolutely love this request so decided to combine all of it together! hope you enjoy this fluffy love xoxo

☆ his grand prix prize: the holiday ☆

F1 Driver! Aemond Targaryen x Model! Reader

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

After a career-defining runway, your devoted F1 star boyfriend whisks you away for a holiday of romance.

Word Count: 1.5k

Themes: just pure lovin fluff as per the delightful request, reader and aemond r cutie simps, alcohol consumption, tooth rotting fluff!!!

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

You stand in the wings of the bustling backstage area of the Highgarden Haute Couture fashion show, surrounded by the orchestrated chaos of models, designers, and stylists making last-minute adjustments. It’s one of the biggest nights of the season, and the energy is electric. You adjust your clothes and take a moment to centre yourself before stepping out onto the runway. A makeup artist fusses around you, dabbing blusher on your cheeks, but you hardly hear her.

For the past several years, you’ve become a household name in the fashion world, the face of numerous campaigns and covers. But tonight’s event is something special. Highgarden Haute Couture is your home turf, where you first made a name for yourself, and tonight, the stakes are higher than ever.

Out in the audience, Aemond Targaryen, the man turned boyfriend who has somehow managed to capture both your heart and admiration, sits in the front row. As one of F1’s top drivers, he’s usually more at home in the paddock or racing down a track at breakneck speed. But tonight, he’s traded his race suit for an impeccably tailored black velvet suit that hugs his athletic frame. His slicked back silver hair and amethyst eyes amplify his allure, drawing all eyes to him, even in a room filled with models and celebrities.

The lights dim, and the music shifts to a rhythmic pulse that echoes in your body. You’re next. As you prepare to step onto the runway, a small, knowing smile plays on your lips. You know Aemond is watching, his gaze unyielding and proud. You can feel the heat of it, even from backstage.

When you finally stride out onto the runway, the audience’s eyes turn to you, but you only have eyes for one person in the crowd. Amidst the flashing cameras and whispers of the fashion elite, Aemond’s gaze is the anchor that grounds you. The way he looks at you, with such pride and admiration, sends a thrill up your spine.

Each step you take is deliberate and confident, your body draped in the exquisite fabric of Highgarden’s latest collection. The dress is a masterpiece, a delicate blend of sheer lace, and intricate floral embroidery that clings to your frame, accentuating every curve. You feel powerful, beautiful, and bolstered by your loving boyfriend.

You reach the end of the runway and hold your pose, letting the photographers capture the moment. As you turn to make your way back, hips swaying, your eyes meet Aemond’s. His lips curve into a smile, one that’s just for you, and your heart skips a beat. You’re used to adoring fans and lavish praise, but nothing compares to the silent support and unwavering belief Aemond gives you.

After the show, you find Aemond waiting for you backstage. The chaos of the event swirls around you, but the moment you see him, everything else fades into the background. He’s leaning against a column, hands tucked into his pockets, his expression one of casual confidence. The moment his eye meets yours, he straightens, his smile widening.

“You were incredible,” he says as you approach, pulling you into a warm embrace. “That dress was made for you."

You laugh softly, feeling the adrenaline from the show begin to ebb away. “It was, wasn’t it? But you’re just biased.”

“Perhaps,” he agrees, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

You pull back slightly to look up at him, your fingers lightly tracing the edge of his lapel. “Thank you for coming. I know this isn’t really your scene.”

He shrugs, his expression fond. “It is when you’re here. Besides, how could I miss watching my favourite model steal the show?”

Your cheeks warm under his gaze, and you feel a rush of affection for the man standing before you. It’s moments like these, away from the glitz and glamour, that you cherish the most. “And what about you, Mr. Targaryen? What’s next on your agenda?”

His grin turns slightly mischievous, and you know he’s up to something. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

“Oh?” You raise an eyebrow. “Should I be worried?”

“Only if you don’t like sunshine and secluded beaches,” he replies, producing two plane tickets from his jacket pocket and handing them to you.

Your eyes widen in surprise as you take the tickets, scanning the details. “Dorne?” You squeal. “You’re taking me to Dorne?"

Aemond nods, his satisfaction evident. “A little getaway. Just you, me, and the sun. I figured we both could use a break.”

You can hardly contain your excitement as you throw your arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. The idea of escaping the hectic schedules and demands of your respective careers for a private holiday is too enticing to resist. “You’re amazing, you know that?”

He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you. “I try. So, are you in?”

“Absolutely,” you reply, already imagining the golden sands and shimmering waters of Dorne. “When do we leave?”

“Tomorrow morning,” he says, leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

The next day, the two of you board a private jet bound for Dorne. The flight is luxurious and comfortable, allowing you to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. As the plane soars above the clouds, you steal loving glances at Aemond, who’s reclining in his seat, his expression relaxed and content, glass of whiskey in hand. He looks every bit the handsome, confident man you fell in love with, and you feel a swell of gratitude.

You land in Dorne to a burst of warm sunlight and a gentle breeze that carries the scent of the sea. A sleek car waits to take you to your destination—a secluded beachfront villa nestled amidst lush greenery and overlooking the crystal-clear waters of the Summer Sea.

As you step out of the car, the view takes your breath away. The beach stretches out before you, its sands golden and inviting, and the sound of waves gently lapping at the shore fills the air. It’s paradise, a world away from the demands of your careers.

Aemond takes your hand, guiding you toward the villa. “What do you think?” he asks, his voice holding a note of nervous anticipation.

“It’s perfect,” you breathe, feeling a sense of peace wash over you. “Thank you, Aemond. This is exactly what we needed.”

He smiles, pleased by your reaction. “I thought so. Come on, let’s make the most of it.”

The days blend into a blissful routine of sun-soaked relaxation and intimate moments. You spend your mornings lounging on the beach, the warm sand beneath you and the sun kissing your skin. Aemond joins you, his presence a comforting constant, as he reads or indulges in light-hearted teasing.

In the afternoons, you explore the beauty of Dorne, wandering through picturesque towns and savoring the local cuisine. The vibrant colors and rich culture captivate you, and you find yourself enchanted by the land and how you can share it with your lover.

One evening, as the sun begins its descent, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you find yourself back at the villa, enjoying a quiet dinner on the terrace. The table is set with an array of delectable dishes, and the soft glow of candles adds a romantic touch to the scene.

You gaze at Aemond across the table, your heart full of gratitude for this unforgettable experience. “I could get used to this,” you confess, sipping a glass of chilled Dornish wine.

He chuckles, reaching across the table to take your hand in his. “So could I. But don’t worry; we still have a few more days before reality calls us back.”

After dinner, you move to the lounge, where a gentle breeze carries the soothing sounds of the ocean through the open windows. You curl up on the plush couch, Aemond’s arm draped over your shoulders.

“I’m so glad you’re here with me,” you murmur, resting your head against his chest.

He presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

As the stars begin to twinkle above, you find yourself lost in the contentment of the moment. It’s a rare escape from the demands of your lives.

Aemond shifts slightly, drawing you closer. “You know,” he begins, his voice low and tender, “watching you on that runway, seeing how incredible you are at what you do… it made me realize how lucky I am.”

You tilt your head to meet his gaze, your heart swelling with affection. “You’re my biggest fan, Aemond. I couldn’t do it without you.”

He smiles, his eye glinting with warmth. “And you’re mine. We make quite the team, don’t we?”

You nod, feeling a sense of certainty in his words. In the paddock, on the runway, your hearts belong to each other.

• • • • • • • • • • • • ✦ • • • • • • • • • • • •

AN: loved just spitting out this gorgeous fluff, plz plz send in requests! i love writing for you guys like this! hope you enjoy @luckyfirebasement ♡⚝♡

[mynameisnotthepoint]

So yesterday, I binged Love in the big city. I had read the book, and as I am wont to do, i skimmed through to get back to the episodes and really sit down and watch them later (hopefully in small increments over the next two weeks).

I have been scrolling around on twitter since then (as one does, I am sick in bed with nothing to do but an assignment I don't have the brain power for right now) and really made me think.

First, I looked at international fans' reactions in English e.g. a gay guy I follow who parties a lot and talks openly about his sex life said it felt real, another guy kept complaining about Go Young's taste in men but also the people who watched it for the romance and only focused on that (and the sex scenes, which have racked up 100.000s of views). Some excitedly writing about how handsome the actors were, how they wanted to see a second season, a shame about this or that plot point (the "endgame" not being there). And as @lurkingshan said, it is NOT a romance drama or even a BL drama. This is a chronicle of one's man's life and his trauma, his relationships and his triumphs.

A lot of English-writing commentors praise the actors for their bravery. And that is always the debate, isn't it? Without them taking the role, this thing might not have been made. But the people behind it, who wrote, filmed, assisted, the writer who is a gay man himself, they all had such high stakes too, even higher (the author kept urging people on twitter to give the drama high views, one of the actors offered free hugs and an eating live stream if they managed to trend at no. 1). The drama is a depiction of a queer person's life as it could happen. Taking on this role, playing the part and then leaving it behind, is that as brave as people who live this life every day? Not to say that none of the actors in this production could be queer, bc some probably are.

One of the people i follow on twitter pointed out this feels like the drama shows queer sex, not sensationalised sex, just, that sex is a part of life so it is depicted in a series that is about life. With reading that, I began to wonder what queer koreans were saying about the series. Thanking the fact that google translate has not yet dropped their support of X, formerly twitter, I began by searching up Nam Yoon Su's name in Korean. A lot of people were calling him handsome, saying they cried about his performance. And then I stumbled upon several things:

1. The club scenes/music they used seems outdated to some Korean queers. They wrote that this feels more like a man in his 30s reminiscing his 20s than someone actually in their 20s, which, fair, the drama is told over the span of like 10 years I believe. Also the commentors thought the dancing was bad. But they said, even if some of it felt not true to gay life/the actors couldn't completely sell it as believable, that the drama was important and shouldn't be criticised too harshly.

2. They were having a linguistic debate about the usage of Korean gay slang (i think it was the word 기갈, but I could be wrong bc my Korean vocabulary is like 30 words) and that it has come into vogue with straight girls who go to gay bars, as Mi Ae does in the drama. In a way, it is a risk bringing a subculture that is/was quite closed to the mainstream (I think similar critiques have been made about drag race).

3. That the drama was not reaching its intended audience (queers) and was instead something for straight BL fans to screech over. It does feel kind of weird that something that veers more into raw territory (if you disregard the casting of Nam Yoon Su, who is super pretty and not at all like Young was described in the book), is treated the same as the stylised/trope-ified human experiences we see in some BLs (nothing wrong with those! Media is in its essence always a distillation of an experience),

I think that there is always a risk of depicting something that is close to the way actual individuals experience it and running into voyeuristic territory, on display for millions of people. Is it weird to want people to take this more seriously? To look at it in depth, treat the characters like humans that could actually be living out there and not Ken dolls you can mash together? Or is that too reductive of me, dictating what other people's experience with media should look like?

These are just my initial thoughts, I need to ruminate on them more, and I could be completely wrong about all of this.

I myself rarely go outside and have not had many queer IRL friends, which is why I am drawn to these series. To be honest, I don't even know the local queer slang bc I have been to the queer bar here once before it closed down due to internal disputes. Reading Love in the big city made me feel like i was hit with a sledgehammer, the series makes me want to go out and live again (once I am feeling up to it).

[terriblyvexed]

hey hey! its one of your readers on ao3 i realized i can ask questions on tumblr so i am trying it out. this may be a controversial question as opinions vary greatly from person to person lool but i am curious being a fellow fan of aot and a fan of your work, so, what did you think about the ending to aot? 👀

(personally i subscribe to a specific fan theory (NOT ANR GOD FORBID i rebuke it!) to keep hope alive in my heart that theres more aot to come cause i did not like the ending much so basically, theres no judgement from me srsly im delulu myself as it stands 😭💯)

anyway thats all thank you for writing left behind and answering my question (potentially)! hope you have a great rest of your day :D

Yeah I know your nickname haha and you can ask or yap about anything!

Ahh yes the ending opinions where swords are drawn two minutes into the debate lol and it’s annoying that people can’t state their thoughts as freely because of the toxicity from every side. This is going to be long I’m sorry😭

I personally didn’t like the ending that much either. I don’t think it’s as bad as people make it out to be, I mean we’ve all seen GoT, but I know a story like AoT could’ve done a little bit better than that, so. It’s not that I wanted Eren to live happily ever after, because his death made the most sense even before I knew about it, but it’s the execution of the episode in general that makes it feel rushed for me.

Mikasa killing him is a beautifully tragic twist, I started bawling my eyes out right there, but I wish the cabin scene was done differently. For me it didn’t feel as raw and honest as the Eren-Armin convo, which I’m not the biggest fan of either, but I’ve always wanted more communication for Eremika so maybe that makes me bitter. Let me see them talk about the table scene and let me see Eren apologise to her. It’s their last moment together, I wanted to see more emotion and honesty rather than an already established relationship that they did off camera. I get what it’s trying to show, and the scene itself is not bad, but I was just a big EM shipper at the time and hoped for more. (I felt the same back when he told her he would wrap that scarf around her forever and always. It hit me just in the right place I remember wanting them to talk about it afterwards but nothing was said.) Same with the memories he gave back to his friends, I’d have liked to see them talk. Him opening his eyes one last time to see her was beautiful no comment there.

Other than that I also LOVED when Levi saluted his friends and comrades! Liked his internal monologue where he said he didn’t regret not bringing Erwin back (Which also made me wish we could’ve seen Armin coming up with impressive strategies and ideas like he used to.)

I liked how Hange was sent off, but I missed them in the final fight.

I really liked the rumbling montage with Guilty Hero playing and Armin’s VA pouring her heart out + that cry at the end when Armin sees Eren. The Levi&Mikasa team-up/final stand was amazing. Those were all done nicely, but that’s pretty much it for me.

For some reason I wasn’t vibing with Annie. I mean she was never my fav but her in season one and in her ova was so much more interesting to me.

I was left underwhelmed by the final fight considering we’ve had great battles like RTS and Liberio previously, it does not compare in my opinion. I understand that Eren won’t kill his friends and I definitely agree with that, but something else could’ve been done with Ymir to make the stakes higher. The ancient titans didn’t feel threatening when you just knew no one was going to die, especially when Falco (first time flying) could dodge all of their arrows.

When everyone there turned into titans, like Jean and Connie, I would’ve preferred if they stayed titans and died when the curse ended. Bringing them back a few minutes later is just meh for me, and makes the emotions I’ve felt a one time thing only because that Jean&Connie dialogue didn’t hit the same afterwards. Not to mention that Connie’s mom was brought back only for us to not see their reunion lol.

Ymir’s storyline was interesting when Eren saw her memories, but after that she lost me a bit. I also don’t like that that *chef’s kiss* scene with Eren telling her she’s just a person didn’t free her at all, that killing Zeke stopped the Rumbling, that Levi was nerfed for the sake of the fight. If all these decisions were done in a slightly expanded time period, I don’t think I would’ve minded much. Especially the final episode itself was, again, rushed in my opinion.

Also, this isn’t just the finale but Historia being sidelined like that is a no-no for me. Not a fan of how the Hizuru-Mikasa plot line didn’t go anywhere either. That may just be nitpicking, but again I do believe season 4 should’ve been longer, maybe with a season 5 as well.

With all that being said, these are just my personal opinions/feelings and despite all, thematically the author did a good job wrapping everything up. Ending a story like AoT couldn’t have been easy at all. Watching it was an experience I don’t think I’ll ever forget or get over and I’m forever going to miss it. (I’m reading the manga now and the uprising arc has me hooked since it’s a bit different from the anime, and dare I say better?)

The ending didn’t ruin it for me or anything, just sad that I won’t get to see the things I wanted to see because naturally everyone has their own expectations, but what are fanfictions for?

What’s the fan theory that you believe? Other than that ANR I’ve heard about the mist and ouroboros but I’ve never read them in detail.

Thank you for reading Left Behind! I’d also like to state that my criticism of the AoT ending does not mean I’ll write one better lol. I like my ending for my story but I’ve already made peace with the fact that some readers might have problems with it. Which is fine as well because I love a good finale debate.

You have a great day/night as well!💓

[prickly-paprikash]

Hey man what the fuck.

I don't like how every single episode of FHJY has just upped the ante. I have loved every single season of Fantasy High, and hands down the Intrepid Heroes seasons' are my absolute favorite. But it genuinely feels like every new release, the team behind D20 just escalates further and further. It isn't just higher level gameplay; it's the sheer creativity behind the mechanics implemented and how the story weaves from one episode to another.

Every single player on this table throws themselves into every character they have ever made in previous seasons, but it is the intimiate familiarity with the Bad Kids that raises the stakes. Raises the plot. Raises the tension.

Holy fucking shit, every combat episode in FHJY so far has left me on the edge of my seat. The use of Downtime is so good because it paces the plot, development and mystery so well.

Every single episode I have been like, "Wow, holy shit that was the best episode ever." I've been forced to say that fourteen times now.

Brennan, Rick, the Art Department, the Music, the Concept and Character Artists—every person involved in FH from cast to crew all have that FUCKING DAWG IN THEM.

And now a MSG live show to boot? The quality of Game Changer becoming increasingly insane?

Every one at Dropout is cooking. These are some gourmet shit, people. Not only are they one of the only ethical streaming services out there, but they got that fine dining ready to go.

[nayziiz]

Speed | CS55

Summary: In a chance encounter at a gas station, a mysterious woman on a Yamaha YZF R6 catches the attention of Carlos, a charming Ferrari driver. Little did they know the journey they would both go on.

Warning: Smut, fluff

Pairing: Carlos Sainz x OC (Lola)

Masterlist

Chapter 10

Flying to Japan in a private jet was like a fever dream for Lola. She never imagined that she would ever travel to Japan, let alone in such luxurious style, with a very handsome man sitting across from her. As the jet soared through the clouds, she couldn't help but pinch herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

Glancing over at Carlos, she felt a rush of excitement mixed with disbelief. Here she was, embarking on an adventure of a lifetime with him, the man who had captured her heart with his charm and kindness. The plush surroundings of the jet and the breathtaking view from the window only added to the surreal experience.

In a way, she hated it. She hated how he paid for everything. Sure, he invited her and wanted her there, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he didn't want her to pay for anything – not even a coffee on the way to the airport.

As they travelled in the lap of luxury, Lola couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort with each extravagant gesture. It wasn't about the money; it was about her independence, her desire to contribute, even in small ways. She wanted to feel like an equal partner in their adventure, not just a passenger along for the ride.

While she appreciated his generosity and understood that it came from a place of caring, she longed for the chance to show him that she was capable of standing on her own two feet. She wanted to share the expenses, to feel like she was pulling her weight.

But as the private jet continued its journey to Japan, Lola couldn't bring herself to voice her concerns. She didn't want to spoil the magic of the moment or make him feel unappreciated. So, she buried her feelings beneath a smile and resolved to find a way to express herself when the time was right.

In the days leading up to their flight, Carlos couldn't shake the anticipation building inside him. Knowing that Lola would be there waiting for him that weekend filled him with an indescribable joy. The thought of being able to walk out of the garage and find her within a few metres, ready for a quick kiss and a warm embrace, consumed his every waking moment.

As he prepared for the upcoming race in Japan, his mind often wandered to the moments they would share outside of the track – exploring the bustling streets of Tokyo together, savouring the local cuisine, and simply revelling in each other's company. The thought of having her by his side, supporting him both on and off the circuit, fueled his determination and added an extra layer of excitement to the already thrilling experience.

Every time he closed his eyes, he could envision her smiling face, her laughter echoing in his ears. The days couldn't pass quickly enough as he counted down the moments until they would finally be reunited. For Carlos, having Lola there that weekend wasn't just a mere convenience; it was a source of comfort, happiness, and an undeniable connection that made every challenge worth facing.

As Carlos worked tirelessly to secure a seat for the next season, the weight of uncertainty hung heavy on his shoulders. With each passing day, the pressure mounted, and the stakes seemed higher than ever before. Despite his best efforts to remain composed, the stress of the situation was impossible to ignore.

In the midst of this turmoil, he found solace in Lola's presence. Her unwavering support and understanding were a source of strength during his most challenging moments. Yet, in his eagerness to confide in her, Carlos sometimes let slip confidential information during phone calls with his team, conducted openly in front of her.

Though Lola appreciated his trust in her, she couldn't help but feel a pang of discomfort at being privy to such sensitive conversations. She understood the gravity of the situation and the importance of discretion, and she silently grappled with the responsibility that came with it.

Unbeknownst to Lola, Carlos had been secretly planning a special surprise for her during their time in Japan. In the week following the race, he had arranged for a visit to the Yamaha factory, knowing it would be an adventure she would especially appreciate. It was his way of showing her a different side of Japan, one that had nothing to do with his work or the stresses of his racing career. He wanted to see her in her element, to share in her passions and interests for a change.

As he finalised the details of their visit, Carlos couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement building within him. He imagined the look of surprise and delight on Lola's face when he revealed his plan to her, and it filled him with a sense of joy that temporarily eased the weight of his own worries.

For Carlos, it was a chance to create lasting memories with Lola, to deepen their bond beyond the confines of the racetrack or her home. He couldn't wait to see her eyes light up with excitement.

After a brilliant P3 result at Suzuka, Carlos was brimming with excitement and gratitude. The race had been a challenging yet rewarding experience, and he couldn't have achieved such success without Lola's unwavering support throughout the entire weekend. Despite their efforts to keep her well concealed from the media and the fervent fans, Lola couldn't contain her emotions when Carlos crossed the finish line.

As he made his way back to the paddock, Carlos's heart swelled with pride at the thought of sharing this moment with Lola. He knew that her screams and jubilations were a testament to her genuine investment in his success, and he couldn't wait to express his gratitude to her.

Finding her amidst the hustle and bustle of the paddock, Carlos pulled her into a tight embrace, his heart overflowing with appreciation.

“Thank you so much for being here, Lola.” He whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

“You can thank me properly when we get back to the hotel.” She teased and left a sweet kiss on his lips.

“Count on it.” He replied with a wink, his voice filled with anticipation for the private celebration that awaited them back at the hotel.

Caught up in the heat of the moment, Carlos found himself unable to resist the overwhelming temptation that consumed him. As their journey back to the hotel continued, his hand gradually made its way to Lola's thigh, his touch sending shivers of anticipation down her spine. With each passing moment, the desire between them grew stronger, until finally, Carlos couldn't wait any longer.

With a sudden surge of urgency, he pulled the car over to the side of the quiet road, the darkness enveloping them like a cloak of secrecy. In the dim light, he turned to Lola, his eyes burning with desire, and without a word, he pulled her towards him, their lips meeting in a passionate, steamy kiss.

Lost in the intensity of their embrace, time seemed to stand still as they surrendered to the raw, unbridled passion that pulsed between them. In that fleeting moment, nothing else mattered but the intoxicating connection they shared, a connection that transcended words.

As their kiss deepened in the darkness beside the quiet road, Lola's breath caught in her throat, her senses overwhelmed by the intensity of their passion. However, as the heat of the moment began to subside, she reluctantly pulled away from Carlos, her chest rising and falling with each ragged breath.

“I don’t think your tiny Ferrari has space for what we have in mind.” She spoke breathlessly, her words tinged with a hint of playful teasing as she attempted to inject a moment of levity into their heated exchange.

With a soft laugh, she placed her hand on his chest, her touch gentle yet filled with a quiet insistence. Carlos met her gaze, his eyes still smouldering with desire, but a knowing smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“Maybe not.” He conceded, his voice husky with desire. “Let’s get back to the hotel.”

-----------------------

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @notyouraveragemochii @heyheyheyggg

[kineticallyanywhere]

Is the new dndads season good? I kinda fell off on the second one with the kids since it felt kinda railroady and bogged down.

I ended up writing a lot. tldr I am having a Great time. if you're worried about railroads know that the track was not exactly loose on this season's plot but boy did the players manage to shatter it in like 2 episodes (and Will's ability to keep the party together)

s2 definitely had a LOT going on (emotions run way higher I think mostly because the characters are teens and the stakes are the end of the world) but I don't think it's any more railroaded than s1. frankly these guys operate best with a clear set of instructions to follow and/or mcguffins to collect and then proceed to not follow those instructions but win anyway. which is (sort of??? lol) what's going on in s3

I'm liking season 3 a lot! life has made it harder for me to just sit and draw fanart for it, but Francis might be my favorite. (tied with Trudy) Anthony is super fun as a player. There's a kind of player balance that the daddies have (between silly and serious, sincere and irreverent) that makes them work as a group, and Anthony fits into Will's spot without being Will, if that makes sense? Like he's definitely a different flavor of player and Francis is no Henry/Normal/Hildy/etc, but he plays the heavy emotional hits with Beth, the I'll-die-before-I-break-character with Matt, and the This-is-a-game-and-I-intend-to-Win with Freddie. But instead of Will's hopepunk sincerity he brings a flavor of "no, I'm straight up gonna do a thing that's Wrong" that even Freddie didn't hit with Glenn. And then Will as DM, like Anthony, is more than willing to throw in real-life mechanics that somehow work on a podcast, as well as brutal, horrific, curve balls that make me question life.

s3 is also big on mystery! every s3 PC even has a Twist built in, and you find them all out within about... 5 episodes? but since this season is meant to be shorter honestly that's plenty of time for them to be uncovered and then pulled on for all their worth. Beth's twist for Trudy is a hecking profound take on the human condition (naturally), Anthony's plot for Francis is a sandbox one could sink their teeth into for days that is honestly a bold hecking swing (especially if you're a usamerican living in Now), Freddie's twist for Tony is--

...we don't have time to talk about Tony but take every Glenn antic, crank it up to a hundred, and then literally mad libs his backstory. Nothing I say could prepare you for this man.

and then I have Feelings about Matt's character Kelsey, since she's a teacher and I'm a teacher but I don't know if they're the feelings anyone would expect and I don't wanna write any takes of even moderate temperature I'm literally just here to have a good time but I WILL say she fascinates me and I want to watch a documentary about her interviewing her coworkers and students

[romance-club-daily]

Why do many find the HS universe disappointing? I LIKE IT (no shade to those who don’t like it). Astrea’s broken heart being a part of the universe is mind-blowing! It adds such depth and complexity to the characters. Like, they could’ve kept the spoiler after Diamond Rush (which I’m patiently waiting on, lol)

I look at it as an exciting evolution of the story. It opens up new possibilities for character development and plot twists that we might not have anticipated. It feels like the author(s) is inviting us to explore a more expansive universe, where the stakes are higher and the stories can take unexpected turns. I’m excited to see where this journey leads us next!

I wish I could agree with you anon, but I can't, not for now (at least).

Ranting incoming! Sorry in advance! I have some points and you can feel free to disagree with me too.

Everything you brought up as an argument could work precisely because Astrea's Broken Heart (ABH) is not from the same universe as Heaven's Secret (HS).

I'm not against stories that are set in the same universe, given the post on the connections between contemporary and mundane stories that I pointed out a few days ago (7 Brothers, Garden of Eden, The One, Vying for Versailles and Elite Tag). I think these are easier because the lore is grounded in reality, nothing supernatural or anything like that. The connection between Chasing You (CY) and HS doesn't bother me either, precisely because CY is a story with completely different themes, the HS plot wouldn't directly affect the CY plot (they all die in the 1st apocalypse?. Probably. Nobody cares because that's not what the story is about). And honestly, it seemed more like an easter egg than something really thought out.

But ABH deals with precisely the same theme as HS (the same mythology in this case), except that before we learnt about the joining of universes, the way this theme was being dealt with was different from what we had seen in HS and was, in my opinion, a breath of fresh air compared to HS. The way the hierarchies were beginning to be dealt with, the interaction of the then angels with the Father, the characters' relationship with the subject and so on. New things (and better in my opinion).

But as soon as you say that this story takes place in a universe of an already established story (which already has 2 stories, 3 in fact), things start to go wrong. Because in order to subjugate a story to a universe, things start to become limited at certain points. There are things you can't do, and if the aim is to keep the universe cohesive in the writing, adding lore here and there like the issue of angels in Heaven's Secret Requiem (HSR) is valid and doesn't affect the story, but what about Mikael being the Father's right hand (because they call him Father), Raphael being that important to Him, but in the HS universe there's no mention of them, or the treatment isn't even the same?

The Beast also seems to be an important figure in ABH, a supreme evil. But putting it in HS is going to be what? Because we know that evil is the Shepamalum, the first Satan presented in HS1 was a minion and honestly, hell looked more like a corporation with a CEO taking part every quarter of a year? Is the beast going to be Satan #546465? Will it be antichrist #7894646? Or will it be Shepamalum? Or demon Larry who made a revolution calling for better working conditions and decided to sacrifice some people as a form of rebellion?

Jokes aside, I can't see how a story that's just starting its second season suddenly (because I don't know to what extent this was planned inside, but as an audience we only know about it now - another problem) has to subjugate itself to an existing universe with its most important hierarchies and lores that have already been established. The number of plot holes is going to increase a lot.

Which brings us to the point of how this was passed on to the public. How do you announce something important like that after the second season of a story, already established, and via Facebook of all places???????? Like?

I have theories. Firstly, the two stories were released on the same day. HSR as a direct spin-off. nice. ABH as something completely new, interesting, unusual. ok. Announcing two spin-offs of the same book, on the same day, would be insane and the accusations of capitalising on every drop of HS's popularity would be off the charts (we've only had that with the HSR part, but it would probably be worse). But doing it afterwards, the way it's being done, isn't much better, the backlash is there and I think it's fair.

They probably waited to see if the book was going to be a success on its own, so that they could talk about it and people wouldn't get too outraged (from the reactions it didn't do much good). They could have done this much more organically. This month's update would finally introduce us to the agency's superiors, and what better way to announce that a story is part of an existing universe than by mentioning existing characters! They could take advantage of this and introduce already known characters, or just mention them by name. It would be much more organic and we would see the connection in the story, not in a random Facebook advert.

Another point is that it could be that they didn't want to create a story of similar mythologies that rival each other. HS has its own fanbase, ABH is also creating its own, the way it's constructed is different, and I think the latter is better. Then, to avoid problems, they put everything in the same universe and that was that. But I don't really believe that because Alice herself (HS) is Elena's (ABH) editor in the story. Which leads me to wonder, was this planned from the start or did they see the potential later and change their minds in the middle of the first season? How serious is this for them to announce it on Facebook and not in the story itself? They had to have the guts to admit it on launch day, why hide it?

So as not to be too long-winded, and to summarise my opinion, I don't think it's an advantage for ABH because it limits the development of the lore too much, since what is going to be dealt with already exists in a certain way, the plot and the development of the plot worry me within this universe. On the other hand, it's advantageous for HS because the popularity of ABH joins it. I don't like the decision at first, I'm going to continue treating them as separate things. I really hope that they have a plan up their sleeve that is spectacular, that things work out and no story is harmed in the process, because ABH has become one of my favourite books. And I must emphasise that I also don't like the way they're trying to squeeze every last drop out of HS, the way it's been done has its ups and downs, HSR was a good decision, HS2 not so much. As well as having other stories that deserve continuation and an exploration of the universe (such as Moonborn with the werewolf and vampire clans, Sails in the Fog with other pirates, Heart of Trespia with the unexplored lands beyond the sea…).

I guess, that's what I think about it. And sorry for the long text again!