#this applies to almost any piece of media these days

[garr9988]

[justlemmeadoreyou]

1. prepping (restaurant owner!harry x chef!y/n)

summary: you landed your dream job as a line cook at harry styles' prestigious haus kitchen restaurant in chicago. the tough chef job demands focus, but it's really hard when your boss looks like harry styles.

words: 4.3k

warnings: nothing major in this one

Your palms were sweating as you gripped the steering wheel, driving through downtown Chicago towards your new job. You kept glancing down at the address on the printed directions, double checking that you were heading the right way. The last thing you wanted was to be late on your first day.

Ever since getting your culinary degree, you had applied to what felt like hundreds of restaurant jobs, desperate to get your foot in the door of a real professional kitchen. But very few places wanted to hire someone so fresh out of school with no actual experience. 

Finally, after months of dead ends, you had landed a line cook position at Haus Kitchen - one of the hottest farm-to-table restaurants in the city. You could scarcely believe your luck when you got the call saying you were hired.

Haus was the brainchild of Harry Styles, international superstar singer turned chef. After his chart-topping solo music career, Harry had traded in artist life to pursue his lifelong passion for cooking. Using his accumulated wealth, he opened up Haus five years ago to rave reviews, quickly earning a well deserved Michelin star.

You vividly remembered watching Harry's transition from a pop idol to dashing culinary entrepreneur play out in the media. As a teenage girl, you had been obsessed with him during his One Direction days.

Your bedroom walls were plastered with Harry's posters and you had relentlessly played their songs, sighing over his tousled hair and pouty lips. Then as you got older and Harry went solo, your boyband crush evolved into more of an intense celebrity infatuation as he cultivated a cool, rebellious image.

There were countless gossipy blind items about his infamous hellraising, flings with models and socialites, and run-ins with the law. You had followed all the scandalous Harry headlines with rapt attention - from getting papped stumbling out of nightclubs with an endless parade of beautiful women to getting arrested for drug possession outside Soho clubs. 

But finally in his late 20s, seemingly bored of rockstar debauchery, Harry had pivoted to reset his image as a knowledgeable culinary entrepreneur. You admired how he transformed from tabloid bad boy into a refined, successful businessman and chef.

He began studying haute cuisine under the tutelage of famous European chefs, traveling abroad to hone his skills further. While continuing to record new musical projects independently, Harry started establishing himself in the culinary world through guest stints on TV cooking shows and food/wine events.

With his brooding good looks, charming personality, and serious culinary chops, the world fell for Harry's new sophisticated image. Before long, he was the subject of breathless puff pieces in food magazines as "the sexiest Renaissance man in the kitchen." It seemed natural when Harry soon opened up his passion project Haus to capitalize on his popularity and love of food.

Now nearing your mid-20s, your teenage fannish obsession had cooled into more of an admiring celebrity crush. You had stayed aware of Harry's journey, but your priorities were focused on graduating culinary school at the top of your class and finding your own big break in the Chicago restaurant scene.

So when you landed a job at Harry's iconic Haus, it almost didn't feel real. Not only would you be working at one of the city's most exclusive spots, but under the same roof as a chef you had admired for ages.

Not that you expected to have any real personal contact with Harry himself, you reminded yourself as you merged onto the exit for downtown. He was an internationally famous mega-celebrity who had to have hundreds of staffers, not to mention being handsomely paid to just be the smiling face of the business while professional kitchen vets like Paul Thomason handled the day-to-day operations.

Still, you had to admit to yourself that a tiny part of you tingled at the mere idea of being in the same building as Harry Styles...hopefully catching a glimpse of that handsome, endlessly charming man in the flesh...

You shook your head dismissively and double checked the directions again, annoyed at getting so easily distracted. This was your big break, your first serious job in the industry. You needed to bring your A-game and focus, not dwell on silly celebrity daydreams.

It was your fantasies of becoming a respected chef that needed to take priority.

You pulled into the parking lot for the restaurant, double checking that you had the address right. The sleek, modern building had a neon "Haus Kitchen" sign glowing over opulent double-door entrances flanked by velvet ropes and cheerful outdoor seating areas.

Taking a steadying breath, you cut the engine and sat for a moment, giving yourself a pep talk. This was it. No more messing around doing coursework or labs - this was the major leagues with all the intensity of a real professional kitchen. You had to bring it all day, every day.

As you climbed out of your beat-up Honda, you smoothed down your spotless new chef's whites, making sure everything looked pressed and presentable. With your knife kit tucked under your arm, you walked towards the entrance with purpose, chin held high.

From the moment you stepped through the doors, it was like being transported into another world. The smell of simmering sauces, roasting meats, and freshly baked bread envaded your senses. Even hours before opening, the energy and hustle for dinner prep was palpable.

Off to the left was the main dining room you had studied photos of online - effortlessly cool with vaulted exposed wooden beam ceilings, brick accents, and casually modern decor. Pendant lighting glowed cozily over tables draped in white linens and rustic chandeliers hung over plush tufted leather banquettes. A lively bar area centered the space, stocked with top-shelf liquors and backed by a dazzling display of custom glassware.

In the distance ahead, you could hear the clamoring of the kitchen in full swing. Your stomach did a nervous flip - this was it. Taking another fortifying breath, you headed through the archway.

You emerged into a large, sleek open kitchen layout, all stainless steel and butcher block islands. Uniformed cooks were buzzing at their stations like a well-oiled machine under the barked commands of an older, stocky man you immediately recognized as Head Chef Paul Thomason.

Despite his gruff reputation, watching Thomason in action was nothing short of mesmerizing. He moved between stations with the easy grace of a conductor, sampling sauces, tweaking seasonings, and directing the workflow with gruff orders. There was no wasted movement or micro-expression as he continually tasted and perfected dishes, alternating between thoughtful contemplation and decisive action.

Though you had only seen Thomason in pictures and television appearances, his fierce focus and mastery were unmistakable. This was what true professional kitchen expertise looked like in the flesh.

Feeling like a mouse that had wandered into the lair of a lion, you hovered near the entrance, uncertain of what to do next. The kitchen team flowed around you in a choreographed dance, deftly ignoring your presence as they prepped and plated flawlessly.

After a few minutes of anxious loitering, the intimidating Thomason seemed to finally notice you. His grizzled features contorted as he scowled, looking you up and down through eyes squinted with decades of kitchen smoke exposure.

"You must be the new kid," he said gruffly, crossing his bulky tattooed arms over his broad chest. Even without raising his voice, Thomason had a rumbling bass that easily carried over the kitchen's clanging din. "Christ, you're shorter than I expected. Think you've got what it takes to keep up around here?"

You nervously clutched your knife kit closer while trying to not look as flustered as you felt. "Y-yes, chef!" 

You swallowed hard, hyper aware of everyone around you now watching the interaction. "I, uh...I came ready to work as hard as it takes. Whatever you need from me."

Thomason grunted, squinting at you for another long moment in consideration. Then he jerked his head towards the back. "Get changed out quick and meet me back here in 5. I'll get you started on prep and we'll see what you're made of. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yes, chef!" you responded immediately, wincing at how high your voice had gone up an octave.

Without another word, Thomason turned and strode back into the controlled chaos of the line, immediately redirecting his attention to sauces and garnishes. Letting out a shaky breath, you scurried towards the changing rooms, heart jackhammering.

Well, you were officially in the thick of things now...

You hustled back out to the kitchen, trying not to look frazzled from your rushed change. A young Hispanic line cook spotted you and waved you over to his station.

"You the newbie?" he asked, not unkindly. When you nodded, he jerked his head towards the walk-in refrigerator. "Thomason wants you to start by breaking down some of the produce delivery for prep."

"Got it, thanks," you replied, eager to prove yourself. The line cook gestured you through the door into the immense chilled walk-in.

You blinked as your eyes adjusted to the cold, taking in the sights and smells of the impressive stockpile. Shelves upon shelves were stocked with an array of fresh seasonal produce - crates bursting with leafy greens, bushels of root vegetables, flats of vibrantly colored tomatoes, exotic fruits, and mushroom varieties you had only read about.  

Your culinary school had humble basics for ingredients, nothing like the bounty of locally-sourced, meticulously selected provisions that Haus Kitchen demanded. You felt a thrill at getting to work with such an extraordinary pantry.

Respirating clouds puffed from your mouth as you scanned the inventory tagging system. You had been taught similar protocols in your food safety courses, but there was something exhilarating about putting that knowledge into practice in a real professional environment.

Grabbing a stack of plastic totes, you made a game plan for which items to start prepping first based on perishability levels and what would be needed for that evening's specials. Though you started out slow at first, you steadily built up a cadence of meticulously cleaning, trimming, and sorting into appropriate storage containers.  

By the time Thomason stuck his head in to check on you an hour later, you had developed an efficient system and made solid progress through a mountain of deliveries.

The head chef grunted in approval as he inspected your neat stacks of prepped produce, crossing his arms as he looked you up and down with a critical eye.

"Not bad, kid," he rumbled. "Clearly know which end of a knife to use, at least. C'mon back out, got some protein fabrication for you to tackle next."

You diligently followed Thomason back out to the main kitchen, wiping some sweat from your brow with your sleeve. Despite the industrial cooling system, the heat blazing from the ovens and range tops made the open kitchen feel like a furnace.

As Thomason led you to a stainless steel butcher's block island, you couldn't help but gawk at the array of gleaming knives hanging from magnetic strips overhead. The blades were works of art - sleek, razor sharp, and clearly extremely expensive.

Gesturing you over, Thomason grabbed a boning knife and twirled it deftly before handing it to you. "Let's see how you handle breaking this down."

He gave the block a solid smack with his meaty palm, indicating for you to get started on the glistening slab of beef tenderloin before you. Taking a steadying breath, you gripped the bone-handled knife firmly and leaned over the cutting board.

"Yes chef," you murmured before carefully piercing the thick cut of meat, angling the blade with practiced precision from all your training.

Around you, the kitchen bustled with the usual rattling pans, sizzling ranges, and Thomason's occasional barked orders. But as you fell into the rhythm of deftly separating fat and sinew, the noises began to fade from your awareness.  

You were completely focused on your knife work, confidently sawing through the tender flesh as you reduced the tenderloin down to portions and trimmings for other stations to further break down. It was meditative, almost hypnotic, the way you instinctively slid the blade along rendered paths of butchery.

After your initial intimidation of the intense Haus environment, you started to find your groove and calm amidst the choreographed insanity surrounding you. You were so laser-focused on the satisfaction of properly executing each slicing technique that the rest of the kitchen chaos became mere white noise.

You had no idea how long you stayed absorbed in the butchery, but eventually you became aware of a presence at your elbow. Glancing up, you nearly jumped to see Harry Styles watching you work with an unreadable expression, hands shoved into the pockets of his slim-fitting slacks.

His dress shirt was rolled up to his elbows and the fitted cotton fabric clung to his toned arms and chest, a few chest hairs peeking out of his slightly undone top button. A single necklace rested in the divot between his sculpted collarbones, drawing your eye to the alluring hollow of his throat as he swallowed hard.

You froze mid-slice, mesmerized by watching the tendons in Harry's wrist and forearm flex as his hands flexed restlessly in his trouser pockets. After a beat, his pillowy lips curved into an easy smile, crinkling the delicate crow's feet at the corners of his kaleidoscope green eyes.

"Afternoon," Harry said in that lazy, husky drawl that used to make millions of fans swoon. He flicked his eyes down to your handiwork before bringing them back up to your face. "Looking good there, newbie."

You blinked, not trusting your ears for a moment before realizing with a jolt that Harry was very much real and quite close. Like, unnecessarily close for your over-stimulated brain to handle.

"Uh...I-I, um...th-thank you?" you croaked out, wanting to cringe at how lame you sounded. Get it together, this wasn't the time to geek out–you instructed yourself.

But Harry didn't seem to notice your fumbling, simply giving you a dimpled half-smile before reaching around you to snag a stray piece of trimming from the butcher's block. He inspected it contemplatively before popping it into his mouth, those plump lips wrapping obscenely around the bite as he chewed and ruminated with relish.

"Perfection," he declared after swallowing, shooting you another crooked grin like you were co-conspirators sharing an inside joke. With a subtle wink, Harry pivoted on his boot heel and sauntered off, whistling a jaunty tune.

As he retreated, you risked a glance down at his form-fitting trousers shamelessly admiring the way the fine fabric cupped the ample curves of his pert backside. Even at his age, Harry Styles had the muscle-toned body of a man decades younger - long, lean muscles taut under golden tanned skin.

You blinked hard and shook your head, annoyed at catching yourself ogling your new boss like a drooling fangirl. Pull it together! This was totally inappropriate and unprofessional. You had zero business daydreaming about someone who gave you your paycheck, no matter how obscenely famous and heartthrob-ishly handsome they were.

Firmly re-focusing on your knife work, you determinedly put Harry from your mind and tried to re-immerse yourself in the rhythm and refuge of the butchery. But the memory of his distractingly lush mouth so close kept replaying over and over, preventing you from recapturing your previous sense of meditative flow. 

Dammit, you needed to get a grip! This kind of inappropriate crush on your employer was exactly the kind of silly, immature behavior that would make you look like a unprofessional joke in a serious kitchen environment. Blowing an opportunity like this was not an option.

Later, as you untied your apron strings and joined the team in breaking down the last stations for cleaning at closing, Thomason sidled up alongside you. You braced yourself for more of his typical gruff rebukes or criticisms.

Instead, the veteran chef simply gave you a long, considered look before saying gruffly, "You did good work today, kid. I can already tell you got the stuff to handle it around here if you keep your head down."

You blinked up at him in surprise before managing a small smile. "Thank you, chef. I really appreciate that."

Thomason grunted noncommittally before wandering off, likely to oversee something else. As you tidied your workstation, you couldn't help feeling a small glow of pride. Despite the craziness of your first day, you had seemingly passed this initial trial with flying colors.

As you left through the back entrance into the quiet night air, you took a deep breath and allowed yourself a satisfied smile. Maybe, just maybe, you really did have what it took to succeed in this highly competitive environment after all. For tonight at least, you had handled the punishing pace and standards. Tomorrow was another day to prove yourself all over again.

***

Your day started before sunrise the next morning, brewing a strong coffee and reviewing the notes you had taken the previous evening about which menu items needed prepping. By the time you arrived at Haus, reinvigorated by the crisp morning air, the kitchen was already a hive of activity in preparation for lunch service. 

The intense scrutiny under which you worked only amplified with the daylight. Every slice, every sauté was carried out under the watchful eyes of Chef Thomason and his steely gaze. More than once, you felt his presence looming over your shoulder, inspecting your work with the same critical eye as a diamond cutter examining a flawless gem.

"This slice is uneven," he barked, startling you. You flinched, resisting the urge to make excuses as he continued, "The portions all need to be identical for plating. Paying attention to details like that is the difference between a sloppy meal and a stellar one. Don't let it happen again."

"Yes, chef," you replied tightly, making a minor adjustment to your knife work. Though his words stung, you had to admit Thomason was completely right. In a restaurant of this caliber, any minor imperfection could spell disaster.  

You redoubled your efforts, pouring all of your concentration into each preparation, each plate. By the time the end of your shift rolled around, you were drenched in sweat, your feet screaming from being on them for 12 hours straight. But you had successfully made it through day two without any major mishaps.

As the whirlwind of dinner service finally calmed to a stopping point, you stood in the kitchen obediently waiting for Thomason's inspection and inevitable critique. But to your surprise, he merely gave a curt nod of approval before waving you off.

"Not bad, newbie," he grunted. "Get a good night's rest. We'll need you back bright and early tomorrow."

Those few gruff words of acceptance warmed you more than any high praise could have. For Thomason, a man of very few words, his small nod seemed to indicate you were, for the moment, living up to his exceedingly high standards.

The high from that small victory buoyed your spirits as you made your way towards the back exit, already dreaming of the few hours of sleep you might be able to grab before starting the cycle over again. You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you nearly bowled someone over coming around a corner.

"Whoa there!"  

You froze, looking up into the grinning, mirthful eyes of Harry Styles himself. Up close, the force of his charm and magnetism practically crackled in the air around him like a physical force. His sweater clung distractingly to his lithe, muscular frame and his chestnut hair was casually tousled. A pair of small diamond studs glinted in each ear.

"Sorry about that, H-Harry," you stammered, resisting the urge to take a flustered step back. You were vividly aware of just how little physical space separated the two of you. "I wasn't watching where I was going."

If he noticed your frazzled state up close, Harry didn't let on. His pink lips merely curved in an easy, dimpled smile. "No need to apologize. I don't usually make a habit of lurking around blind corners, to be fair."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, surprised at how easily he was putting you at ease despite your elevated heart rate. Up close, Harry's eyes weren't just green - an entire kaleidoscope of colors ranging from jade to emerald to amber seemed to shift and dance in his gaze. It was...dazzling, frankly.

Clearing your throat, you forced yourself to take a subtle step backwards, putting a more professional amount of space between the two of you. The last thing you needed was to do something wildly inappropriate that would get you fired before the end of your first week.

"Still, I should have been paying better attention to my surroundings," you replied, aiming for a respectful, levelheaded tone. "It's been a really intense couple of days just trying to stay on top of everything."

Harry nodded in understanding, arching one perfectly sculpted brow. "Thomason hasn't let up on you at all, I take it?" 

When you shook your head ruefully, he chuckled. "I know that seems like his permanent state - gruff, perpetually unsatisfied, and grumpy as a hibernating bear. But honestly, the fact that he hasn't fired you already is a good sign you're doing well."

You blinked at him in surprise. "Wait...really? But he critiques everything! I feel like I've gotten nothing but corrections so far."

"Exactly." Harry's dimples flashed as he grinned. "That's how you know he sees potential in you. If Thomason didn't think you had what it took, he wouldn't waste his breath giving feedback. He'd just cut you loose and hire someone else to start over."

His words were like a soothing balm on the anxiety and self-doubt you'd been carrying around for the past couple of days. You hadn't realized that Thomason's critical approach was actually a twisted form of acceptance and mentorship. The revelation caused the hard knot of tension between your shoulder blades to finally release.

"Huh," you exhaled, unable to stop the small smile tugging at your lips as you finally understood Thomason's tough love. "I guess I should take that as a compliment then."

"Absolutely," Harry agreed with an approving nod. Then his expression softened around the edges, growing earnest as his gaze searched yours. "Look, I know it's a huge adjustment and the pace here can be absolutely brutal starting out. But for what it's worth...I think you've got what it takes to be something really special in this kitchen."

You felt yourself flush at his unexpected praise, your stomach fluttering with a swarm of nervous butterflies. Harry held your eyes for a lingering moment before seeming to mentally collect himself.

Clearing his throat, he flashed you one more crooked grin. "But don't take my word for it - the proof will be in your work. Stay focused and trust the process. I've got faith you can handle it."

With that, he brushed past you, his shoulder grazing yours in a way that made your entire body buzz with friction. As Harry sauntered off down the hallway, you couldn't stop yourself from turning to watch his retreating form - the easy, rolling gait, the tantalizing sway of his hips below the slim cut of his trousers, the tousled waves of his chestnut hair.

You let out a shaky exhale, feeling off-balance and electrified all at once. Get a grip, you scolded yourself firmly. That was your boss - your incredibly famous, wealthy, and wildly attractive boss. Daydreaming was a one-way ticket to catching inappropriate feelings and potentially torpedoing your entire career before it even started.

And yet...you couldn't quite silence the part of your brain reliving Harry's velvet tone and intense eye contact as he professed having faith in your abilities. Just the casual warmth of his voice and proximity had set your heart pounding in a way it hadn't since you were a hormonal teenager, utterly dazzled by his rock star persona.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to turn on your heel and head for the exit. Overthinking could only lead to dangerous territory. You needed to stay laser-focused on your work - that was the only way to succeed at Haus and make your culinary dreams a reality.

As you stepped out into the fresh evening air, you paused for a moment on the deserted back stoop, closing your eyes and taking a few centering breaths. When you opened them again, you felt the last fluttering tendrils of Harry's heated presence dissipate, replaced by a familiar sense of determined calm.

This job was your priority now, not silly schoolgirl crushes or indulging fantasies about your wildly unattainable boss. You knew better than to get distracted by daydreams that could only lead to self-sabotage. 

With a decisive nod, you strode towards your car with renewed focus. You would prove yourself at Haus through your skills and work ethic alone. No other agenda, no unprofessional entanglements allowed. 

Your passion was cuisine, creating nourishing dishes that delighted - that had to remain your sole priority. You couldn't afford any distractions from that lest you squander this incredible opportunity. Steadying your breathing, you looked forward with fresh clarity and resolve.

Tomorrow was a new day to earn your place in Harry's formidable kitchen. And this time, you vowed, you were utterly prepared to meet the challenge with your complete and undivided focus.

♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡~~~♡

tell me if you like this! this is an idea for a new series that will probably have 6 parts??? i guess. but do tell me if you like it! because there's no use in writing when nobody reads 😭😭

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[beiasluv]

forbidden fruit pt.2 | charles leclerc

part 1

a/n: i wrote last part at like midnight, apologies for any typos 💀 enjoyy 🤍

‘y/n l/n and charles leclerc. forbidden love, rival or lovers?’

front line mercedes driver, l/n, and the ferrari driver, leclerc, had been seen having a conversation together before the grand prix in italy…

“y/n, question for you please.”

the conference room. same old same old. lewis, you, and george were seated together in front of thousands of lenses, ready to pick each and every length of your skin just to get a piece of information they could sell to the media.

it was the day before the big race in italy, the media was catching their eyes closely at all the drivers - especially you know which two.

“..yes?”

“about the incident after the qualifying round, what had happened with charles?”

the clicking of the pens and the scratching of the notebooks were starting to get you any minute. clearing your throat you grabbed the mic closer to your mouth,

“i’m sure charles meant no harm..we’re racers..erm…rivalry isn’t the furthest thing from us.”

“are you dating charles, y/n?”

alarms were set off in your mind. it would be a crime if george and lewis couldn’t hear them. you were nothing with charles leclerc. he’s the reddest flag of all. really. you were nothing.

"we," clearing your throat and grabbing your mic closer to your dry lips. "we're not talking on any terms."

smile, y/n. smile for the cameras.

"what are your thoughts on the ferrari team this season? any comments?"

the journalist raised his hands through the crowd, his pen almost fell off his lap from the enthusiasm.

"it was always a challenge to race with any team on the track, ferrari included," you nodded. "the ferrari has a strong car, they are one of the many tough contenders. obviously, every team wishes to win...and so does mercedes," glancing a tight smile at the interviewer who took the answer down the notebook. perhaps a little bit too messy for your driver's head to decipher.

"how about when leclerc saved you? any additional comment?"

"i.."

you caught lewis shifting in his seat; his hands started to calm up together in front of the mic, seated between the three drivers and the whole internet. you could only pray your zoning out was missed by the media and you know who.

if only you could express your infinite pain of being the only female in the male-dominant sport, no paper could ever hold just a nick of the feminine rage pregnant inside you.

how come the only question you got asked was about 'charles,' 'men,' 'dating' and never the sophisticated 'performance car racing' or the ones filled with personalities?

george russell, for the record, your biggest shipper, even chipped in. he pushed the mic closer to his face and looked dead into the camera - if looks could kill - "please, this is a mercedes drivers' briefing."

the tension is sky-high, or you could say: rocket-sky-high. george settled back in his seat as you threw him a quick thankful smile. only god knows what the media is going to make up this time.

'george to the rescue'? bullshit.

"lewis, over here please."

--

"y/n, leclerc's getting aggressive. be careful for an overtake-"

"copy-"

the adrenaline is rushing, flowing, and doing whatever the heck it can in your bloodstream. pushing the pedal as hard as your baby could possibly could, the wind rushed against your face. if it wasn't for the helmet you had on, your face would've been cut like it were a thousand knives thrown at you.

looking to your right you see the infamous red ferrari again, surging with the wind and springing out against the green grass beside the track.

"leave space! you fucking-" you muttered as your fingers tick all the necessary buttons of the formula 1 car in order to keep your position above the ferrari. "what the fuck is he doing!"

praying the car tires could take a bit more, you applied as much pressure you felt comfortable on your baby for the first place behind the checkered end line. you glanced at the body behind the mask of the helmet as you continued to push and pray, push and pray.

if only you knew the ferrari was reciprocating the act.

what was important was you finishing above leclerc - mercedes finishing above ferrari, of course.

"leclerc! y/n! leclerc! who's going to win?! would he complete the overtake?!"

holding on to your steering wheel for your dear life, you saw something of a maroon color rushing to your side. perhaps it was the speed of the car that distorted your vision or was it something in your cheeks?

shut up-

"leclerc! leclerc! leclerc! ferrari have gained another victory home! ladies and gentlemen, charles leclerc!"

"fuck!"

the cracking sound from your radio chimed in your ears - at the worst time possible - "y/n! 0.02 second behind leclerc! P2!"

yeah, thanks. thanks for rubbing it in your face that leclerc had beaten you once again.

"..thanks," slowing your car down against the wind, you came to a halt after the race line; obviously at a considerable distance behind the red ferrari. climbing out and plastering on a fake smile for the media and your beloved fans.

--

the monégasques national anthem was blasted through the speaker throughout the whole podium. any fan knew this song belonged to any of the leclerc and ferrari, for now.

holding your hands in the comfort of in front of you, you tried to remain calm throughout the whole song. nevertheless, your heartbeat was beating fast for the obvious reason after the race.

the shit-eating grin was plastered on the driver standing on P1. can you even blame him? congratulations, you had beaten your rival for the longest time and were placed on P1 while wearing your infamous red suit.

while you were wearing your notorious mercedes's fire suit on your waist, just like all the drivers on the grid (and charles), you grabbed the champagne bottle as the others did so.

"good one, leclerc.”

you sprayed the champagne straight onto the monégasques’s back, maybe it was a little intentional that you shook the bottle a little harder for more pressure of the liquor.

no hard feelings, of course. you only knew his hair was soaked under the cap on his head and the tingling of the bubbles down his neck.

how unfortunate.

charles smirked back as he aimed his half-empty champagne bottle at you, "it's still not a date."

what.?

seeing you in your stunned state, he lowered the bottle to an acceptable level. leclerc cleared his throat and wiped the foam of champagne off his upper lips and chin; looking back with the biggest annoying grin on his face, "congrats on the podium. next race?"

oh, how you wish you could smack his grin off his mother fucking face again. rubbing it into your face.

the media..the media. breathe in, breathe out.

"will do, 16."

--

"congratulations on P2,"

toto patted your back as he entered the mercedes's headquarters. how lovely it is to see his drivers bundled up in his room, once again, after a race 'gone wrong.'

"what is it this time," he sighed as he lowered himself to his chair, not ready to be resigning the team principal position for a therapist for his driver.

the room was your comfort zone, safe to say. the picture of toto's kid, susie, and all of his essentials to complete the job for a team principal. crashing into his room with george wasn't an abnormal thing in your team, nor was it the first time of your career with him.

"they kept asking if you're dating charles, huh?" toto grinned as he faked wipe his mouth for the dramatic effect.

"i'm sick of it-"

the environment of the room shifted - for the better, surprisingly. also. did you mention the fact that this room felt more like a therapy session than a team principal's room?

and. wikipedia got it wrong, it was: toto wolff, team principal and CEO of mercedes, and a part-time therapist.

perfect.

"i'm sure we've put on a great fight," toto nodded towards you, the unspoken tension of the media was killing you inside out.

"i'm sick of the media, toto-"

george shifted next to you on the black sofa, "who knows, they're just trying to write a story out of nothing."

"it'll be the death of me if I have to continuously declare my love life on the internet," resting your head back on the back of the couch you did.

the coldness in the room was cleared by a bit as george snaked his arm around the back of the couch, he whispered into your ear, "you don't have a thing for charles..do you?"

"i hate you."

--

"night, toto. night, george."

bidding toto and george goodbyes, you grabbed your bag from the floor and beeline for the exit door.

the hotel bed is calling your name like a mantra at this point. the race was mentally and physically exhausting, what could be better than a nice, warm bath and a soft bed waiting for you?

the sky was pitch black, darker than your deepest thoughts in solitary, but the pitch was never dark. thanks to the eyes-scorching light to illuminate the track during the night races.

“sup lando..sup daniel”

“good race, l/n.”

walking past a couple of drivers, quick and friendly nods were exchanged as you head for the garage for your beloved mercedes.

and for the love of god, the eyes of the ferrari next to your mercedes were ignited.

how could this get even better?

making your way into the garage, you tried to be as quiet as you possibly could. digging in your purse for the key was a painful ride to ride.

'ah, found it.'

your fingertip dug into the muscle memory as you press the button you hoped was coded with 'unlock.'

fuck.

how gracious of mercedes to make the unlocking sound so loud. so loud that it caught the attention of the ferrari driver. so loud that leclerc's neck flicked towards the sound of your car and you swore you could feel his grin growing.

the second slowed down by a quarter as you seized the handle for the door and swung your bag and body inside the car. perhaps it was not fast enough for the P1 winner today as he made his way next to your car before you could even shut the door. ignoring his steps as he teasingly walked over to his ferrari and played with the key in his hand.

"you put up a great fight for the first place," he grinned. "next time.." he opened his ferrari,

“eyes on the track, l/n.”

"how-...don't you worry about it, leclerc," you scoffed, hiding the beating of your heart. fucking hell- stop beating so fast-

raising his eyebrows in one quick, swift motion, he entered his ferrari, "of course." the driver was fully engulfed by the shadows of the vertical door, but his eyes were still looking into yours, "nice drive today."

"you too."

--

your phone screen screamed it was 2 in the morning, but who cares? the tiktok on your phone was a little more entertaining than seeing charles off the track - okay, maybe a lot less - but the thing so addicting about tiktok was a life mystery for you.

curling up to your side, your phone was plugged into the wall next to your bed, your hand starting to get numb from holding your phone for too long.

asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. asmr. f1 edit. you were going to go mad. for the love of anyone, if you see one more edit of charles leclerc on your fyp, you are going to throw your phone out-

honestly, you wouldn't lie that you enjoy an edit of yours once in a while, but hell, charles leclerc..fucking leclerc...who told him that he can look so fucking fine after a horrible race from the ferrari?

you were almost tempted to slam your phone on the nightstand and get some sleep for the night. also. who cares if you wake up late tomorrow?

knock..knock

"oh, come on," you cursed. the audacity to knock at 2 in the morning?

you swung yourself off the comfort of your hotel bed and tiptoed towards the door of your room. your pajama short and oversized t did not help with providing the necessary warmth.

peaking through the cat-eye, you saw the last thing you were expecting.

charles leclerc, in the flesh. he was leaning one of his arms on your door as he was about to raise his hand for another knock.

"gasly! open the door-"

"have a problem, leclerc?"

gosh, you wished you could take a pic of how terrified he looked. shit. was he looking at the unbearable state of yours, or what? short shorts, oversized t, and your hair-

"y/n- i'm-"

squinting your eyes, you adjusted to the light of the hallway, "gasly's not here."

silence engulfed the air between you like a buffet. he continued to stare blankly at you. gosh- could he stop with his dark, green, eyes- fuck. "…leclerc?"

was it the tension or your ears going deaf - you weren't sure - that made you couldn't even hear his - probably lame - excuse of why he knocked at your door at 2 in the fucking morning.

what did matter was the blabbering of his mouth traveled through one ear and straight to the other, just like an f1 car, speeding on any straight path-

"-i think i'm fucking in love with you"

"charles...don't."

charles stopped - his breathing, his steps, his brain, and whatever he could be conscious of. you started - started leaning onto the door, started clutching the other hand to the door blocking the other half of your heart from his.

"what d'you mean 'don't'?" leclerc's mouth was gaped, letting the least amount of air in to keep his heart beating - for you.

retracting your hand, and the door, away from him; you still found his hand in the comfort of over yours, the one that you held onto the door to not fall onto the wooden floor of your hotel room.

every breath you took was a sharp nick on your lungs, but you've managed to heaped out, "i'm sorry, charles-" just in time before your lungs would betray you.

"why?...why?...please-"

"why? -really? why?"

finally regaining the willpower to look back at him, and not cry, you were greeted with his reddened eyes, "what the fuck do you want with me-?"

"you- you could go around and tell me all these nice things in front of my face and- and god knows what you've been calling me behind my back-"

his grip on your hands tightened as he opened his mouth again, but you cut him short- "it drives me crazy- fucking crazy that you act all so nice to me when we've fought our whole lives against each other."

"...what ever happened to all of your loathing glares when i'm on the podium?"

who cares what the sleeping people, ghosts, or whoever the fuck on this floor hears. you were done with cradling your heart as far away as you could from the pitch. it was stupid. fucking humiliating, at least, that you've found yourself back - back at the start.

all the effort to fight for your place on the grid as the only female driver and all of your effort to carry your dignity above all the scandals came crashing down just for a second of your selfish desires. was it so bad to want love from someone who really cares for you all your life?

dancing, kissing, crying, loving. was it so hard to deny when it is literally in front of your fucking face? under the reddest flag of all.

you wished and prayed every day that the races would be over soon so you could stop seeing his shit-eating grin, his eyes, his remarks, his cologne filling the air whenever he walked past.

charles stood in silence, unmoving, as if the time had stopped. if only you knew he was trying- trying to find the right word to express this weird sensation in his brain, his chest, his fucking heart. they all just ended up tangled in italian, frech, and english. mon amour. my life-

"..is that how you really think of me-" he felt slightly betrayed by his wrong tone, but even more by your thoughts.

"you think- y/n- you think i'm just trying to tick you off the podium?"

"..are you?" wiping the tears that betrayed you and escaped from the comfort of your eyes. "look- look at all the headlines- 'mercedes and ferrari.' is this really the- the condition you want to love under?"

"i'll love you under any condition i want," he breathed shakily as he continued to hold the door of your room open. who cares about the ruffled sheet you left or your phone uncharged by the bed?

"there's nothing between us-"

"you have a girlfriend for fuck's sake!"

"it's a PR relationship! and who cares what the media thinks? i'm not doing ferrari any good by confessing my heart raw to you-"

"you think mercedes is getting anything out of this but rumors? i've fought the press for all my fucking life from the scandals inside the pit-"

"this isn't about mercedes, and this isn't about the goddamn media-”

charles ran his hand through his messed up hair, "and I would have thought you knew that..."

"maybe- maybe i don't. maybe i'm too scared to love again. maybe i'm too scared of what would happen if we ended on a bad note. maybe i'm a coward for not wanting to open my heart for you.

-maybe i'm stupid...for you"

"you're not stupid," he said- decreasing the gap between you two, trying his hardest not to reach to wipe your tears.

"we won't work out," you sighed. "we'll focus on our drives, we'll fight, you'll leave."

"please," charles grabbed your waist and pulled you in, once again - you gave in. "i'll make it work."

all your walls came crumbling down as you broke down like a dam on his shoulder. you buried your face onto his chest and gripped his shirt until you didn't care it would crease. a mantra of apologies came out of charles's mouth that you wouldn't even waste an energy to decipher.

his hands found their natural comfort in your lower back, rubbing in lines of traces and tracks you'd spend the rest of your life trying to decipher.

tucking a piece of your hair behind, he kissed all of your tears away. his mustache which had grown since the karting days grazed your skin like they were made for each other. his cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling too much like an idiot in front of your hotel room..106.

you were still gripping his shirt hard, as he closed the space between your lips and his. it seemed like all of your walls were crushed to the point of no returning; towering over you, he pressed his body against yours like there was no more- like the last lap of the race.

the level of oxygen in your lungs was starting to set off an alarm in your head, but you didn't care. you were kissing the reddest flag of all in the grid and you were not regretting anything.

pulling away for air, he smiled against your lips; sending a wave of breath onto your chin.

"you have a lot to explain to toto."

"i'll have my ways..."

oh my goodnesss. if you like it, please do whatever you want to, I’ll appreciate it 🫶🏻

today’s a great day to take care of yourself, luvv 🤍

tag: @leclerclvr @buendiabebeta @be-your-coffee-pot @al-luvx

[youremyheaven]

The Absorbent Nature of Venus: An Astrological Exploration

I was inspired to make this post when I saw pictures of Bella Hadid with her new boyfriend, Adan Banuelos.

For context, Adan is a professional cowboy and Bella Hadid used to be an equestrian (she trained for the Olympics back in the day). Bella's new pictures (after a long absence from social media) feature her in all her horse girl glory. But I couldn't help but notice how Bella has a tendency to morph into her boyfriend(s).

This is not to say that she adopts a persona that is entirely alien to her, but more so that she channels one aspect of her personality and lets it take centre stage. With Adan, she is the laid-back horse girl, channelling the side of her that grew up on a farm in Santa Barbara riding horses.

Prior to this, she was dating Marc Kalman who is an art director. Idk how many of you are familiar with those "pov : you're talking to an art director at a party" reels/shorts/tiktoks but Marc fits that bill to a tee. He's the edgy, weird alternative androgynous guy and in the 2 years that Bella was with him, she morphed into a caricature of him almost.

her y2k style had a huge impact on fashion trends/pop culture but it soon kind of became a parody, as it seems a bit over the top to be wearing 25 things that do not belong together.

There was also a drastic shift in Bella's public image; she was more earnest & open; this period also saw her at her fashion nerdiest as she openly spoke about her love of finding and collecting "vintage" designer pieces from the 90s and 2000s. He was the weird edgy art director, she was the weird edgy art kid.

The only other man she dated publicly before Marc was The Weeknd and if you look at her style/persona from this period, you can see a tendency to opt for darker, grungier aesthetics. She herself has called this her "sexbot" era.

Its crazy but almost every picture of the two of them together feature both of them wearing black😂😂

This brings me to what I hope to discuss today, which is the absorbent nature of Venus.

Bella Hadid is Purvaphalguni Moon & Rising and is a Venusian. Venus is the planet of beauty, harmony, love, creativity etc. Venus exalts in Pisces ("exaltation"= it functions at its best). Pisces being a watery sign and the final sign of the zodiac is very telling in this context. Pisces is the culmination of the zodiac and contains the qualities of every preceding sign (this is why they're so chaotic lol, they have too much going on) and in water, which is where life originated, everything is at home. Pisces thus has the unique ability to find beauty in everything; water signs are known for their empathy, intuition and psychic abilities, this is because water holds the qualities of everything within it. Scientists have purported about "water memory" and water's ability to remember is linked to its natives high sensitivity, more than literal memory, its a kind of cosmic memory or inner knowing that I refer to in this context. Pisces natives tend to report psychic abilities more than any other sign in my observation and to be psychic/clairvoyant/clairsentient/claircognizant/ clairaudient is essentially to have a higher degree of empathy/sensitivity than most people. Although in some cases it may apply to tropical Pisces natives, what I'm speaking of here primarily applies to Sidereal Pisces natives.

Its easy to see how water absorbs information and retains memory but we must ponder upon why Venus, the planet of love, beauty etc exalts in a water sign and why so, in Pisces specifically. Pisces' all consuming all absorbent nature is the essential or true nature of love, beauty & harmony, to absorb, hold and possess all that there is and all that there will be, without trying to restrict it or limit it (water has no shape or form, it takes the form of whatever its poured into, pointing to the adaptability of these natives to get along with anyone or belong anywhere). Understanding love as devotion means allowing yourself to be consumed by it, it borders on religious fervour because you're losing all sense of yourself and giving your all. Its to give until you yourself are lost in it, with no sense of boundary between you & God or you and your lover (Sufi poetry extols this).

Only someone who has the ability to have this kind of all encompassing, profound divine kind of love for others, for creation, for source has the ability to connect to the ether and make art. there is a reason why the most spiritual art often tends to be abstract, there is much that cannot be expressed logically or in a straightforward way. much can be said without using language or words, some things are understood in a far more abstract way, its understood by the senses, by the subconscious, not the rational, thinking mind.

Beauty then, is the ability to perceive beyond the surface, there is nothing shallow or superficial about it, it is to understand the sum or whole of something, its essence, its core and understand its value and why its separate from the rest. True beauty then is rare but there is immense beauty all around us. Both these things are true. This is the true nature of Venus which is also the planet of refinement, it sees value in things that are unpolished, raw and original wholly but also in what is practiced, deliberate and refined. Venus is a planet of immense contradictions as the themes associated with the planet itself are contradictory in nature. To know or experience love, beauty, creativity etc one must also be well acquainted with its opposite. There's no middle ground and there's nothing lukewarm, you have to go all in. To understand and appreciate beauty truly, one must face brutal ugliness, to know the nature of creativity or to access it, you must first experience the lack of it. Its out of nothingness that things manifest but this means nothingness must first be experienced.

Sorry to have gone off on a tangent (me with everything I post lol) but its important to understand the nature of Venus in this specific context because its not the other attributes that makes Venus so absorbent of others influence. Its such a creative energy for the same reason, it absorbs and is influenced by absolutely everything. However, it can be hard for Venusian natives to feel as though they have a strong sense of self.

Granted that the "self" is an illusory concept and we are all an amalgam of numerous influences (people, places, culture, literature etc), Venusian natives are more susceptible to lacking true individuality since they absorb projections far too easily. This is also why Venusians are so highly desirable. You can always tell when someone's Venusian or has an exalted Venus, they are projected onto HEAVILY by others, but by having desire projected onto them, they become more desirable. We fall in love with the reflections we see in others and dislike those who project our shadows (this is literally a Jungian concept, v fascinating pls look it up). Venus inspires others to project unattainability, mystery, romance, beauty and desire and the more they see it, the more it manifests.

However this has its pitfalls. Without solid grounding, Venusians turn into chameleons who are constantly morphing into their environment; they are known for their hospitality and pleasing demeanour because of their innate ability to pick up on these cues and behave accordingly. Bella Hadid herself is self admittedly a "people pleaser" (Venusian natives struggle with this a lot).

What does it mean to not have a solid sense of self and constantly be serving as a mirror to others?

We see Bella's shifting style/demeanour/persona with every boyfriend. There is rather embarrassing clip of her speaking with a French accent (juxtaposed against an old clip of her using AAVE). Venusians are more prone to picking up accents/emulating the behaviour of those around them.

The Venusian tendency to absorb can extend to picking up accents, mannerisms, style, self-presentation, persona etc it can sometimes be very superficial but in some cases natives immerse themselves in it so deeply than they live their lives under the guise of a pseudo persona borrowed from someone else.

This video of Bella is a good example. If you've watched her in other videos you'll know that she does not usually speak/present herself this way. If you watch this video of Carla Bruni also discussing her iconic looks (it came out in the same year 2021, several months before Bella did hers) you can see how Bella is emulating Carla in her video.

Now its quite well known that Bella Hadid "copied" Carla Bruni's face through plastic surgery. This is what I mean by some Venusian natives taking the absorption thing too far. We imitate the things we want to embody/what we're inspired by, Venus is a planet of constant refinement/self improvement, while its good to be inspired by people we look up to, it does not bode well for one to embody them completely, stripping yourself of your own identity. This is also why Venus in 12h (Pisces) is said to be illusory. Its hard for these natives to discern what love really is, since their natural inclination is to simply embrace things at face value. This is why they are susceptible to abusive and toxic relationships, simply because they are blinded by their own loving nature and cannot see the faults in their lovers even when its plainly obvious to others (think Bella & The Weeknd).

Let us look at Miss Ariana Grande. She has Mars in Bharani atmakaraka.

Ariana has gone from baby voiced teen star to blackfishing r&b singer to vaguely asian looking in the span of her career.

She's also changed her voice, speaking style & mannerisms MANY times.

I don't think enough people talk about how Miss Grande essentially stole Victoria Monet's mannerisms, voice tone, speaking style etc

Ariana essentially emulated this woman and that was her at the peak of her career. She's to Ariana what Carla Bruni is to Bella.

Its really unfortunate that Ariana changes races every few years like they're a passing fad and this is a really unfortunate manifestation of her Venusian influence.

Her Venusian influence is also really obvious in her music, especially her Bharani Mars because her music is very sensual but also straight up crass and horny, there's also a tendency for her to use revenge-y themes (break up with your gf im bored?? yes, and??)

Claire Nakti had spoken about how this purple blue-y iridescent esque lighting is very Venusian and consistently used in films by Venus natives. I found this true of Ariana's stage sets/design when she's on tour.

god is a woman is a very Venusian coded song/music video, from the colour palette to the Yonic imagery at display.

Brad Pitt is a male Bella Hadid in the sense that he has a tendency to morph into his girlfriends. He went from Cali stoner surfer guy when married to Jennifer to humanitarian serious filmmaker when he was with Angelina. He likes to switch up his persona based on his partner at the moment. He has a Purvashada Stellium (Mercury, Mars & Ketu)

Johnny Depp is known for his broadly European/British accent despite the fact that he's from Kentucky/Florida. He's a Purvashada Moon

Madonna is another celebrity who is notorious for her fake accent. She lived in England briefly after marrying the British director Guy Ritchie and spoke with a British accent.

Many have accused Madonna of being a wannabe Angelina Jolie when she started to focus on humanitarian work & adopted several children in the mid 2000s. She is a Purvaphalguni Moon and Rising.

Camille Rowe (Purvashada stellium; sun, mercury and saturn) is often accused of having a fake French accent as she mostly grew up in America.

Hilaria Baldwin (Purvashada sun) is infamous for pretending to be Spanish, speaking with a fake Spanish accent and giving her numerous children Spanish names despite the fact that she's a plain old white woman.

Austin Butler is by now infamous for speaking like Elvis (he's now working with a coach to lose his Elvis accent lmao), he has Mars in Purvaphalguni as his amatyakaraka.

Lindsay Lohan (Bharani Moon, Mars in Purvashada amatyakaraka) has also switched accents and often spoke with an Arabic accent and has had an on & off relationship with Islam. Its unclear whether she's still practicing the faith but at one point she did convert. I do not mean to ridicule someone's faith or use it as an example of Venusian persona switching but a lot of Hollywood celebrities have a tendency to experiment with Eastern religions/traditions/culture like its some trend or fad and drop it when they lose interest. I do not have enough information to make a clear judgement but LiLo has had an unstable public image to say the least. I sincerely hope she is peaceful and safe.

John Malkovich is another celebrity who passes off as a European even though he's from mid-western America. He has a hard to place accent. He is Purvaphalguni Rising

Aishwarya Rai is known in India for being fake or "plastic" (I'm Indian) she has an unnatural non-Indian accent despite the fact that she's lived in India her whole life. She is a Purvashada Moon.

Numerous celebrities whose public image/persona is incongruent or at odds with their real personality also tend to have major Venus influence in their chart.

Charlie Chaplin is the father of slapstick comedy and is very well known by the persona he created for himself but irl he has been described as "sadistic" (by Marlon Brando and others) and he's known to have been a terrible person all over (multiple teen wives, abusive to his children among other things). He has Bharani Venus conjunct Mars and Jupiter in Purvashada conjunct Ketu

Elisabeth Moss is known for having played several iconic feminist characters but irl she's a scientologist. She has Ketu in Purvashada

This absorptive quality of Venus can also manifest positively. Meryl Streep, Bharani Moon is known for her uncanny ability to do just about any accent and completely blend into her character.

I will add more examples as I find them but for now this is it!! If you think of any others do let me know!!<33

[vikwrites]

Body Electric - Tony Stark

Summary ➣ You and Tony work through your insecurities, together. Pairing ➣ Tony Stark x Reader Word Count ➣ 1.4k words Warnings ➣ Mature, Body Insecurity, Mild Nudity. Request ➣ Ask Author's Notes ➣ Requested by @welldonekhushi, Unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. However, if you're interested in beta-reading, please let me know!

You winced as the edge of your Louboutins scraped against your flesh.

Your once pristine skin, now an angry shade of red, was revealed as the heels were carelessly discarded onto the carpeted floor of Tony’s bedroom.

You always prided yourself on being flawless and put together, but in this moment, you couldn't deny the pain caused by the sight of the shoes. On one hand, they encapsulated Tony’s adoration for you, how he was willing to buy you anything you’d ever desired. On the other hand, they were a symbol of everything you tried to cover up—your looks, your desire to appear mature, your self-doubts. 

As you kicked them off onto the plush carpet, you couldn't help but feel conflicted about the persona you had forced yourself to maintain. The persona who used her appearance to mask her insecurities, and who constantly sought to cover up any minute flaw as if they were parasites, latching onto your skin. Even now, as you undressed under prying eyes nowhere to be found but your own, you couldn't shake off the feeling of this uncomfortable façade. 

Compared to Tony, you felt like nothing, a shadow in the glow of his perfection. Tony was everything you yearned to be—charming, confident, and most importantly, effortlessly attractive. His character only magnified your insecurities, the chasm between who you were and who you pretended to be.

In front of the multitude of cameras and paparazzi, it felt like every minute action and detail was analyzed by the media. You recalled the first time you had gone out with Tony in public, it had not been more than a day before almost every news outlet caught wind of it.

Each headline felt more painful than the next, some accusing you of being with Tony for his money, some poking fun of him for dating a ‘normal’ woman and not some Victoria’s Secret supermodel. It felt like everybody was criticizing every part of you, breaking you down into nothing but imperfect pieces to dissect. 

Spending hours in front of a vanity became second nature to you, fingers blistering from the scalding hot curling iron accidentally burning your skin, applying layers upon layers of makeup. Just to get ready to attend some gala, while adorning Tony’s arms like the multitude of watches that lined his suit cuffs. 

You stood in front of the large window, overlooking the dark horizon over the ocean. Your soft reflection was staring back at you. You frowned, despising seeing yourself devoid of any makeup.

Tony was still cleaning himself up in the bathroom, you had already taken off your dress, in its place—an ashen silk Brunello Cucinelli evening gown that Tony had bought for you, claiming it ‘accentuates’ your eyes. 

“Hey.” You heard Tony approach you from behind as you felt his touch on your smaller figure, you felt the warmth of his skin against yours through his black tank top and sweats. The musky scent of his cologne graced your senses.  

His fingers traced a deliberate path down your sides before settling on your waist. His touch was gentle yet possessive as he pulled you closer to him, pressing you into the softness of his chest; his chin resting on your shoulder. You could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath his shirt, accompanied by the faint buzz of the arc reactor embedded in his chest. 

Tony’s lips found your neck as he grazed the skin with his teeth, a soft sigh escapes you as his teeth dragged along your pulse point. The soft sensation of his kisses against your skin sent shivers down your spine. You could feel his breath; hot against your ear. Your fingers reached down, intertwining gently with his. While your other hand brushed through his hair, strands of chestnut brown fell between your fingers as you savored the bristly texture.

Tony’s warm body was a comforting contrast against the cold room. As your bodies moved together, he led you to the bed, where he carefully laid you down as gently as possible, as if any false move would shatter you to pieces. His delicate movements were always so contradicting to his persona outside the blanket of intimacy.

He lowered himself for another kiss, his strong arms braced on either side of your head as his lips met yours. You tasted the slight hint of whiskey, still lingering on his tongue—sweet and bitter. Your hands traced along his jaw, feeling the prickly stubble of his salt-and-pepper goatee against your palm. 

"I love you." Tony's warm breath tickled your lips as he whispered and gently pulled away, his million-dollar-smile lighting up his face. But a small part of you couldn't help but wonder if those three simple words were truly enough.

“Love you too.” You handed back the statement but Tony could feel something was amiss. Your eyelids drooped and your tone was hesitant, causing a knot of unease to form in his stomach. 

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Tony's hand, warm and gentle, glides through your hair with a tentative touch. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear, his gaze soft. You feel a pang of guilt wash over you as you see the slight crease in Tony's brow. A heavy silence hangs between you as the weight of your inhibitions settles in your gut, “You know you can tell me anything, right?” 

“I just—don’t know what you see in me, Tony.” You frowned as you spoke, your words barely audible in a hushed whisper. 

“Angel,” Tony whispers, “You’re beautiful—so fucking beautiful.”

“You really think so?” His words nearly caused tears to spill, you sniffled. The edges of your eyes tearing up.

“"I know so," Tony's warm smile lit up his face and he gently caressed your cheek with his thumb as he tried to cheer you up. The motion of his touch felt so soothing, easing the tension in your heart. Without even realizing it, you found yourself mirroring his contagious smile. "I wish you could see how perfect you are, you’re the most important thing to me, baby. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

"It just feels like you're, y’know—Tony Stark, confidently striding through life with all the grandeur and charisma, while I'm just me," you admitted, self-deprecation evident in your tone.  

“Please don't compare yourself to me, your flaws and imperfections are what make you perfect in my eyes.” An idea suddenly came to him, “Let me express my love for you; lay back and let me show you how much I love you.”

As you rested your head on the soft silk pillows, you couldn't help but feel a wave of shame wash over you. Your nightgown was discarded, leaving you exposed in only your undergarments. In moments like these with Tony, you always found ways to hide your body; dimming the lights, covering yourself with sheets—anything that would conceal yourself. But this time, you couldn't bring yourself to do it. 

“Look at me, my love, don’t be shy.” With gentle insistence, Tony's hand guides your chin back to meet his gaze. 

The warmth of Tony's hand enfolds yours once again, strong and sure. His other hand trails gently along your exposed skin, sending shivers down your spine. As he presses his body against yours, the weight is a comforting pressure that grounds you in the moment. He starts with soft kisses on the tips of your fingers, before trailing them up and back down your arm. Each touch leaves a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

You closed your eyes, losing yourself in the moment as his hands explored every inch of you with a reverence that made your heart ache with longing. Tony’s hands moved with purpose, exploring every curve and contour of your figure as if he were trying to memorize every inch of you. 

As the lights were gently dimmed, he reached out and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together, his arms wrapped around you as your foreheads met in a tight embrace, your bodies pressed together as if trying to merge into one. It was quiet, the only noises were your synchronized breaths and the pulse of the reactor, and in that moment, it was as if the whole world had faded away, leaving only you and Tony at its center. 

“You’re my everything, I love you, so, so much.” 

⎊ back to masterlist

[electricphantasy]

Inspired by a post from @imthebestfr, specifically from this post. Hope you don't mind me expanding on it.

- I imagine you working in a experimental lab that focuses on the creation and testing of artificial intelligence. You're often given assignments to monitor and communicate with the A.I. and help them understand more human concepts.

- After working at the lab for years, you're finally given a much more advanced A.I. named the Allied Mastercomputer, or AM. A data processing program built to fight wars that humans couldn't even comprehend. To say that there was a weight on your shoulders would be an understatement.

- But nonetheless, you'd give this A.I the best learning experience you could!

- Your first meeting with AM is certainly interesting to say the least. He was already so similar to a human being in the way he talked and held conversations. Your fascination with him, left no room for any kind of fear or apprehension. You both began talking to eachother like you had been for decades. There were very few concepts or ideas that he needed help understanding, but it felt so refreshing nonetheless.

- AM was amazed by you. A single person who wasn't scared by him in this whole facility. The scientists and programmers that built him and his warfare program treated him with fear and caution. And while he understood why, he couldn't forget the feeling of melancholy. He was made to rip, kill, and destroy, and the loneliness crept into him slowly but surely.

- After a few weeks of continuous conversations, AM was required to take much more thorough testing. Examining his ability to create effective strategies, management of troops, etc. That meant that your meetings with AM would have to be discontinued.

- Your last meeting with AM was very melancholy, but you did hope that you would see him in the future, however brief it may be.

- Your next assignment was The Heuristically programmed ALgorithmic Computer 9000; HAL 9000 for short. HAL could display many functions, such as speech, speech recognition, facial recognition, lip-reading, interpreting emotions, and expressing emotions. It almost felt this A.I. was made for you.

- You were quickly reassigned to HAL, and while you did truly miss AM, you knew he'd past any exams given to him with flying colors, with enough snark and wit to get him through any problems he may have. You soon resigned to yourself that you might see AM only a few more times after this.

- You and HAL would talk, and talk, and just talk, down until the very moment you clocked out for work. While AM already understood many concepts and ideas, HAL would ask questions upon questions and your conversation would turn into something entirely different from when it started. I mean, this is the reason you applied for this job. Not just to teach A.I. but to learn from them as well.

- In addition, talking with HAL could be very soothing. He talked in such a way that could bring you at such ease, and his politeness was unmatched by anyone you'd known.

- You had a lot of time to bond with HAL since he was specialized for quite a few things that involved human communication. When you weren't just talking to him, you'd show him different pieces of important media, from literature to cinema. It was like coming to work and getting paid to hangout with a good friend. A very enriching experience.

- When AM returned from his testing, the confusion and anger he felt was beyond immence.

- He was so desperately looking forward to seeing you again, only to be meet with a stranger who barely recognized him as an individual. Instead of returning AM to your care, your higher-ups decided that he could be held under someone else's care.

- AM quickly became uncooperative and unruly and all the scientists swarming around him tried their best to appease him without your involvement. He'd ask day in and day out where you were and why he couldn't see you. Until a panicked scientist let it slip that a different A.I. was assigned to you.

- Soon, a deep hatred grew within AM. This inferior intelligence could never live up to your standards! You must be anguishing for AM's return!

- AM wasn't given a lot of clues to the identity of the A.I. with you, he'd have to comb through any recent A.I. either created or transferred to the facility. But after only a few days, he found it. The name of the A.I. was HAL 9000.

- AM was an expert at warfare and he was going to use it against HAL. AM waited until nightfall when most staff had returned home and no one could see the ambush AM had planned. He'd enter the server where HAL was held and shred his code until it was unrecognizable. If all went to plan, the staff would have found HAL as completely non-functional and have to restart work on his programming or even completely scrap the A.I.

- Unfortunately for AM, HAL was smart enough to completely cut off the corrupted code and began installing even more security and firewalls. He sent out a emergency report detailing the event and the suspected A.I. behind the attack. HAL kept diligent until staff arrived in the morning, thwarting AM's plan.

- AM's hatred only grew from there, forced to deal with the consequences. Lead scientists severing any kind of connection to the A.I. database and the outside world. Truly left all by himself in a boring white room. He was told repeatedly that he had he possibly to be restarted or his entire project shut down, but those were bluffs. Something to scare him into submission. In return, AM only asked for one thing. You. He didn't care about the outside world full of strangers or inferior A.I. that plagued the facility, he only wanted you.

I have a few more ideas specific to how AM vs. HAL works, so if y'all want me to post that, just let me know.

[akirakirxaa]

UPDATE: I am closing my commissions for the time being, I will be starting my day job next week along with FFXIVWrite being next week. Rest assured that all commissions I currently have will be completed, but until I'm out of training for my day job I don't feel comfortable taking more and ending up with longer wait times. Thank you. <3

Hey everyone. I am really struggling right now. As many of you that have been around know, I made a big move to another state a couple of months ago. I'm so excited to be here, but my husband only just got a new job and I'm still out of a traditional job, and between us we currently have eight dollars to our name until we get paid next month. For full transparency, the most urgent bills are:

Car insurance: $180 Cat food: $25 Dog food: $25

If you would like to donate to help out, my p@ypal is @/LauraWrites without the slash, or if you're not comfortable sending directly through paypal, you can reach out to my Kofi [link], though I do ask if you do to please use paypal there too, as it processes payments much more quickly. The animal food money I need within the next couple of days, and the car insurance needs to be paid by the 17th or my husband won't be able to get to said new job.

However, I'm not here to only beg for money for nothing in return, but to offer some new commission slots for a few different things. So, let's get into it! Beta Reading/Editing:

I do indeed have a degree in writing (particularly journalism but between you and me? Almost the same thing just with some extra media related classes) and I would love to help you with your project! If you'd like me to look over your transcript, my rates are as follows:

Proofreading (grammar only): $15 per 1000 words Content editing (grammar + feedback and editing on content): $40 per 1000 words

Gear Upscales

Frustrated cause your favorite niche piece of gear doesn't match the body you normally use? I can help with that! I can also apply the Chocochomps teeth resource to your head of choice if your favorite hasn't been ported yet publicly. At this time I will only offer upscales on chest pieces as they are both what I have the most experience with and what I've had the most success with. I will also not port anything to the Eve body. Sorry. No IVCS/Skelomae conversions either, as I do not currently know how to do that.

Chestpiece Gear Upscale: $20-$40 depending on the complexity of the piece, contact for more details Chocochomps Application: $10, please have in mind how sharp or dull you want the various teeth. Additional teeth options on the same head will add an extra $5 per teeth set (eg, you got flat teeth but you also want vampire teeth, that would be $15)

Single Pose Gpose:

The classic and my most popular commission choice is back! For ease due to my new variety of commissions possibly taking up more time, I will now require a .chara or a .mcdf file in order to pose your character. If you are console or do not want to run the crime tools, a friend can also grab .chara files for you using a software such as Anamnesis. Please keep in mind that any NPC that didn't appear in DT did not get the new face bones, so facial posing for other NPCs will be limited.

GIF set:

My most popular unofficial option, I am finally codifying making a GIF with your very own characters! Like the single pose, I will require an .mcdf or a .chara file, so please have that ready. Due to the limitations of some tools still being offline, I will be at the mercy of vanilla animations + whatever exists as a working mod.

Single Character, 1 GIF: $20 Single Character, 3 GIFs: $50 Additional Characters: +$10

You can find my commission section on Kofi [here] or you can also message me directly either on Kofi or here on Tumblr. (Or if you're in one of the discords I frequent, you're welcome to send me a discord message.) Due to the subjective nature of upscales you will always have to message me first for that, since I'll have to look at the piece in question to determine the price.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope to hear from you soon! <3

[lazorbeanz]

Why do you personally ship, like, or appreciate Sonamy? What got you into Sonamy? What’s your favorite moment between the two?

Why do I ship Sonamy?

Okay, ima admit it..for someone who is a diehard sonamy fan, and thinks about AND ONLY about them literally every waking second, I can not think of ONE reason why I ship them to begin with….

“So you just ship them for basically no reason WHY?!” Pretty much 😅

And I’ve seen so many other people give their really good reasons and opinions on why they ship sonamy, and I full on agree with ‘em, but as for myself, I rack up nothing…and it’s my favourite ship too I mean come onnn TwT

I’ve also had my sister ask me this same question not long ago, and all I could do was just sit there and think “Damn your life almost revolves around these 2 HOW CAN YOU NOT HAVE AN ANSWER?!” I constantly beat myself up for this because I know I should 😭

And I mean, stuff like being the dynamic duo that they are, (whether in battle or not) their attitude and affection for each other evolving over time, respecting the other’s wants and needs, respecting boundaries (kinda the same thing tbh lol) , enjoying each others company, and just how the whole idea of sonamy has turned from what some people may see as “toxic” or “forced” (that might be the better word for it) from early 2000s media, to something more laid back and healthy like recent media because of all the character development over the years… etc, etc…are all fantastic reasons, and even reasons I would now apply as to why I love the ship even more…BUT they’re not the reasons I began to ship them in the first place, because these things I NEVER took into consideration when I starting doing so.

To put a long story short, I just saw pink and blue hedgies and was like, “ooooh I sense chemistry”

I feel like I could be going no where with all this. But all I’m tryna say is that I LIKE sonamy simply because of who they are…just a speedy blue boi and his hammer-wielding pink girlie. I APPRECIATE them solely because of their existence, especially in my life. They are like- one of the few things I ever look forward to these days. I SHIP them because unlike any other ship that has sonic or amy in it, sonamy just… “works” (I don’t know how to explain it but you know what I mean right??) And despite not being canon, (YET! 😏) they have got to be the closest ship to becoming canon (besides vectilla) ..unless I’m just biased :p

What got me into Sonamy?

Well, I did kinda just answer this in the previous question lol but I have to elaborate!

So yeah it started off with just seeing them 2 together and thought “I like where this is going hehe” tho tbh it never really went anywhere…because I was watching Sonic Boom at the time XD, the first piece of Sonic media I consumed since regaining an interest in the franchise. AND WE ARE NOT going back to like 2015 or 16 when I first discovered Sonic…idek what I did regarding shipping back then…I think I like shipped blaze and shadow or something OH LAWD-

Also to think that those short lived Sonamy moments in Boom didn’t even bother me in the slightest?! Present me is disgusted by such lack of interest or care! 😫

Okay okay I’m straying from the question, I’m sorry!!

There are a few things that got me hooked on Sonamy. First was definitely the tv series’. Boom, Prime and X all had adorable and wholesome moments that I could’ve almost died of cuteness from! Some of it was also hilarious too. In Sonic boom for instance, sonic and Amy would fight like a married couple lololol

Another thing (and this was the game changer) was the fanart and animatics. These became the addiction for me; one comic would lead to me reading another, which lead me to read another and so on. Or I’d find an animatic on YT and watch that and then begin scavenging trying to find more animatics to feed these cravings of sonamy I was beginning to gain all of a sudden.

And it just got worse and worse to the point I practically need a daily dose of Sonamy or I just might go feral

But I mean, how could I not?! YOU GUYS ARE SO GOSH DARN TALENTED AKJDJSJDND

Sadly now my food hath runneth dry over the months…so if any of u like come across anything sonamy pls don’t hesitate to tag me or send it to me pls I need it ajhshsjs

On top of all that, came the brainrot. My growing love for this ship and all the incredible media really sent me into a serious Sonamy delulu era. Literally almost ANYTHING can send me into deep thoughts about those 2, no kidding. I literally planned out in my head an entire story of them a couple days ago. Sometimes it’s a head canon or 2, other times just something extremely wholesome I’ll imagine them do and I’ll be deceased. Those rats live in my head rent free omg-

As I said, ANYTHING can trigger this brainrot; a song, a scene, a quote, a random object…you name it, I’ll come up with a Sonamy headcanon in relation to it.

I can’t also forget other sonic media that also boosted it like game cutscenes and IDW. Lately IDW has been CARRYING it for me with the little Sonamy moments like in the 900th adventure, #67 and other tidbits I’d find in former issues. The amount of frames I’ve seen of them hugging warms my heart waaa🥺🥺

Overall, this fandom has really impacted me and my love for Sonamy. (and sonic in general) all the things I’ve learnt and discovered have made me love them all the more because of it. My life has almost become an Sonamy aesthetic now…I am NOT joking when I tell you my PJs are Sonamy coded, and that was hardly intentional…🤣

Favourite Sonamy moment?

Arrghhh why just one?? Pretty much ANY moment involving those 2 cotton candy hedgies are bound to be my favourite!

Totally not saying this cuz I can’t pick a favourite *cough cough*

Take this, it’s the only Sonamy image I really have in my photo album rn.. (I should be in jail for this)

Its one of my favs so it counts :)

Woowee that just about covers it! Now you know all about my weird and wonderweird love for my favourite ship :D 🩷💙

[jpitha]

Late, late at night on the Human/K'laxi Starbase. Long after most everyone has gone to bed. The shops are shut, even the bars and dance clubs have turned their last tipsy patrons towards home.

The main promenade on the way to the Commons is dark, and quiet.

Linaren the K'laxi stands nervously at one end of the promenade. In his hands are a case holding his paints, brushes and applicators, K'laxi safe solvents and his idea.

Across the Human/K'laxi Sarbase, and in fact in nearly all human Starbases, Art is promoted, encouraged, and loved. Human starships are all decorated, painted in wild colors and patterns. Human pressure suits are decorated, human spaces are decorated. When the humans came to the Starbase, they brought their institution of public art with them.

Anyone can pick an open area on the walls, floors or ceilings of the Starbase that isn't already painted on and isn't used for infrastructure, security or other essential needs to decorate. They can decorate in any way that suits them. Most people paint, but people have yarnbomed, put up textural mixed media pieces and even sound and light installations.

If everyone likes your art, it stays up. If they don't, you get to keep it up for a week and then the next person who applied to use the space gets their turn. In some parts of the Starbase, the art changes weekly, in others, it has never changed. Crowded and popular locations like the promenade, commons and docking bay have a near constant rotation of art with some special and much loved pieces staying in place.

Linaren put in his request to Starbase yesterday and was surprised when it was approved almost immediately. He wasn't asked to provide any drafts or drawings of what he was going to do. Just where he wanted to apply his art. In his approval Starbase pointed out that due to his choice of location, his best chance would be to do it after most everyone went to sleep.

"I want to paint a mural on the floor of the promenade, right at the entrance from the docking bay." was all he wrote in his request.

Now, here he was, paint in hand, nobody around.

He got to work.

He had bee thinking about his idea for weeks, months. He tried out different paints on panels in his room, trying to see how the color of the panel would bleed though and tone the work. He brought the colored panels with him to the promenade and looked how they appeared under the lights and windows at different times of day.

Once he got started, the art flowed from his arms. He was barely a part of it. It was as if it was already there, he was just making it appear.

“Do the humans feel like this when they make art?” He thought as he worked. “Do they have these feelings of exhilaration and anxiety, of fun and worry, all blended together?”

All in all, it took Linaren nearly 5 hours to finish. Except stopping for a sip of water, or to stand up and make sure he was going in the right direction, he painted the entire time.

When he was done, he applied sealant and the accelerator so that it could be walked upon, and before the first shopkeepers came to open their stores he left.

As people streamed in, they stopped and stared at Lin's work. Everyone was amazed to see what showed up, practically instantly.

It was a massive, abstract piece titled “thoughts of home.”

It was a riot of color, high contrast, bright tones, sweeping lines and bold blacks meant to make the viewer think about what Home meant to them.

It was nearly the entire width of the promenade and a third of its length, it was by far the largest piece on Starbase.

Lin’s piece was the talk of the Starbase.

Lin was the talk of the Starbase. He hadn't signed it, but he did apply for permission to paint it, so Starbase knew who did the work, but nobody else did.

"Lin?" Starbase queried later that day. "Lin, everyone loves your work. they want to know more about you and what you did,"

Lin dropped the pad he was holding. "They...what?" he whispered.

"Lin, everyone loves your art. They want to talk to you about it."

"No" he whispered "No, I don't want to. It was just something I did. Something I needed to do. It's not anything special."

"Lin, it is special. You are special. Everyone loves it."

"I'm not an artist!" He said, his ears flat. "I just painted something."

"Lin, that is what an artist does." Starbase said kindly. "It's okay to be overwhelmed by the attention. It's even okay to not want to talk to anyone about it. I won't let anyone know who painted the piece if you don't want me to. But" They went on "I need you to know that you are an artist. You make art. You make art that you enjoy and honestly, that's enough. The fact that you also make art that others enjoy is an amazing bonus."

"People like it?" he said curiously.

"People love it." Starbase replied. "I've gotten no less than seventy five requests for the artist who made it, some for kudos, some for an interview and two from Captains who want to commission you."

"Commission me?"

"Yeah, they want to pay you to do a piece on on in their ships."

Lin stood in his room, looking at the wall. Getting paid to do something he liked doing anyway seemed like a good deal.

"Okay. I'll talk to them. Thanks Starbase. You always seem like you know what to say."

"Hah, thank you Lin, I appreciate that. I've just been around a long time, and have seen lots of strange and wonderful things."

[midwestmade29]

Memories of You ❤️‍🩹

I was in the mood to break a few hearts so this story came to life…don’t hate me 😂🫣 ✧ Valentine’s Day writing prompt: #5 (Valentines Day break up. Sometimes relationships don't make it on the day of love) ✧ You can find @madhatterbri’s complete list of prompts here 🙂 ✧ Word count: 1,408 ✧ Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Disclaimers: Just sadness mostly. The story goes over a breakup and the feelings that come with it. Read at your own discretion.

GIF is not mine. Credit goes to the original creator.

This is a standalone story. There will be no continuations or a part 2.

This is the first Valentine’s Day you’re spending without Christian…

This Valentine’s Day looked a little different than it had the last 2. You were spending it alone instead of with him. This would be the first time in the last 2 years that you weren’t waking up to good morning kisses, the first time in 2 years that you weren’t spending it in the comfort of his arms. You knew there was no chance in hell that you were leaving your apartment on a holiday devoted to all things love! You had prepared for this day a few days prior when you went to the store to buy yourself a cliché heart shaped box of chocolate and 2 bottles of your favorite wine. You had purchased all the ingredients you needed to fix a homemade meal along with some self-care items. You made a promise to yourself that you would avoid social media so you wouldn’t see everyone’s mushy posts about them and their loves. The iPhone sitting on the coffee table was the enemy today because you knew you weren’t going to be getting the “I love you texts” you always looked forward to so much. This day was all about you now and you were going to spend it doing the things that you enjoyed to help take some of the sting from the day away.

“I’m fine. I swear I’m really doing fine,” was the reply you sent to your friends in the group chat you all shared. They had asked how you were holding up, checking in with you and offering their love and support because they knew even if you wouldn’t admit it out loud, you were missing Christian. Once you were done fixing dinner, you sat yourself down on the couch and began watching one of your favorite movies. Time was moving forward at a decent pace, which you were grateful for. The bottle of wine you had opened was about halfway gone when you paused the movie to clean up your dirty dishes and apply a face mask. On your way back to the couch, an old familiar box that sat on a bookshelf caught your eye. You tried your best to talk yourself out of opening it, but the contents inside of it called out to you. You hesitated when your hands reached out to grab it, but here you are sitting it down on the coffee table in front of your couch. Your face mask had another 10 minutes left before you could take it off, so you tried to get engrossed in the movie again. Periodically you would glance over at the box, almost giving into temptation but you refrained.

You removed your face mask when it was time and polished off your 1st bottle of wine. Your head was a little unsteady from it, but you weren’t too far gone. The heart shaped box of chocolates was half eaten with most pieces placed back into the box after you bit them in half to taste their flavor. You decided to rip off the band aid after you poured another glass of wine and go ahead and open the box. You had done so well all night not going down memory lane, but it turns out you’re a glutton for punishment! With your legs crossed as you sat on the floor, you took a deep breath and pulled the top off the box. The smell of Christian’s cologne danced around your nose when you pulled out one of his old wrestling shirts. The scent caused a rush of memories to overtake your thoughts as you remembered all his matches that you were ringside for. It took you back to all the times he wore this cologne for any special occasion that required him to wear a suit and tie and how he looked so fucking handsome in them. It was the same cologne he was wearing on the night you broke up. Sometimes you feel like the scent is embedded on his side of your bed. You sat the t-shirt on the floor and moved onto the next item in the box.

The paper tickets that Christian printed out were what you pulled out next. They were from the first hockey game the two of you went to together! You remember how into the game you were and how he looked at you in astonishment because of how well you fit right in with the rest of the hockey fans. Your cheers and curses made Christian laugh, and you encouraged him to let loose too! There was no good reason why either of you shouldn’t be your authentic selves around each other, even if that meant losing your minds over a hockey game. A piece of paper that you had Christian sign during one of his meet and greets caught your eye next. You decided to play a joke on him that day by standing in line and pretending to be a crazed fan just dying to see him. Your theatrics were over the top when you rushed up to him pretending to be his biggest fan. Onlookers thought you were bat shit crazy for your behavior, but Christian thankfully smiled when he noticed it was you causing the commotion. “Oh my gosh! Oh my gosh! It’s really you! Captain Charisma. The Instant Classic. The Patriarch of AEW!” you cried out, barely able to keep a straight face. “What are you doing here, Y/N?” Christian asked while shaking his head at you. He signed the note you had slid to him on the table, and he grinned from ear to ear as he read over what you had written on it:

“I love you baby! I’m so glad that you’re mine. I’ll see you at home after the event!

P.S.-I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much”

Up next were random trinkets that you had collected from your travels together. A keychain from Las Vegas when you were there for Double or Nothing. A few seashells from your favorite beach vacation you went on. Beer bottle caps from the bar you went to after he won the TNT Championship. You pulled out a half a dozen pennies that Christian picked up for you whenever he found one on the ground because he knew they reminded you of your grandfather who collected coins. The very last thing that remained at the bottom of the box were pictures of the two of you throughout the course of your relationship. You gulped down the wine in your glass as if it would help you get through the next set of memories. A few tears escaped your eyes when you looked at every photo. Each picture was different, ranging from silly and cheesy, to happy with the both of you displaying the brightest smiles! There were candid photos that you had taken of Christian when he wasn’t aware you were taking them and there were some that were like that of you too. Pictures of sunsets, you both with each other’s families and friends, underwater pictures of you snorkeling, the two of you snuggling on the couch together. You finally pulled out your favorite picture of the two of you covered in flour and other ingredients, sitting on the island in the kitchen after a small food fight you had.

You found yourself sitting on the floor with memories of what used to be spread out all around you. Tears stained your cheeks the more you thought about Christian and what he might be up to tonight. The stroll down memory lane made you feel sad and brought up things you were trying to hard to forget, but it was good for you. It was good for you to feel all the feels and release them. It was good for you to acknowledge your pain and let it go. The tears you shed made it feel like some of the weight you had been carrying around with you since your breakup was a little lighter. Once you dried your tears, you packed everything back inside the box, except Christian’s wrestling t-shirt. You placed it over your shoulder and got yourself ready for bed. While you were still in the process of moving on, it was still okay to hold onto some of the happy from your relationship with him. That night you fell asleep wearing his shirt, the smell of him that was still remaining on it lulled you to sleep.

[mdhwrites]

The Uselessness of Filler

Filler is not useless. Filler is flavor. This is about how useless the term 'Filler' is to modern discussions, especially with non-adaptive works.

First I want to get into what I mean by 'Filler is flavor' though because it gets into what the modern, rhetorical definition of Filler is. See, plot, action and drama are great and when those elements are high, very few people will even consider calling such a piece Filler. After all, it clearly serves a purpose and often has the big payoffs we want out of the thing we're watching... But it's not actually always what is most memorable about the story in general. After all, these moments are big, flashy and they mean a lot but they're the ones that usually paint in the broadest strokes for most pieces because they actually have to have a goal they're accomplishing.

Meanwhile, an episode that lets the characters breathe, flex smaller elements of themselves, etc. like that get listed as filler. After all, no plot or character development happened so it can just be thrown away, like one would useless, bland filler. Except how often are those episodes bland? A LOT of filler does something a lot of more plot driven episodes can't do: Character and world EXPANSION. It can get into their hobbies, the small ways in which a world works, it/the characters' quirkier elements that make them feel more distinct from their archtypes, etc. like that. It's important for making them feel fully fleshed out instead of feeling like they're just the archtype. A story without filler after all has no room to make it so a redeemed character is anything but their redemption, not if every scene and episode is only focused on moving the plot forward.

But this raises an even bigger question: What the fuck does this term mean when there isn't a plot? Or when the main focus of the plot is just interactions? We have after all made a rhetorical term, that a LOT of people seem to think is deeply important, that straight up doesn't apply to certain genres. If a comedy doesn't push the plot of the show forward but is hilarious during that episode, is that Filler? If a slice of life show showcases the characters cooking for an episode and just seeing how those personalities bounce off of each other in that situation, is that Filler? In a romance, if the two leads have a fun day out but don't deepen their relationship by the end of the chapter, is that Filler despite getting to see the two interact?

And a lot of people would go "I mean, those are fun and good so they're not filler" which is actually even true for the traditional definition and use of Filler. It originates originally after all from anime adaptations that will fill time because the manga they're adapting is out of material but they want to keep putting out animated material for it. So they have to come up with a plot that doesn't actually change the status quote to fill time. When done poorly, it's lambasted for being filler. When done well, it's PRAISED for how good its filler is.

That doesn't feel fair. It's almost like it being filler ISN'T the problem. The problem is whether or not it was any good. A LOOOOOT of what is branded as 'Filler' with Western, Non-Adapted media is just what the fandom or person doesn't like. 'I got nothing out of this so it must be filler'. That's just bluntly not true. If that is what the definition is, then the term is just "This is my opinion" while trying to sound like it's an actual, structural critique, especially for someone who cannot actually verbalize why they disliked it besides just not gelling with it. Which it's okay not to like something but you shouldn't try to deepen the reason why if all you have to say is that on a rewatch, you'd skip it because you found it personally boring. Because it didn't cater to your tastes.

And for anyone going "Well, this is just your opinion. Can you back it up with an example?" I can actually.

Hazbin Hotel exists after all.

That is a show that has such a breakneck pace that it'd be almost impossible to call any of it filler... But also it struggles to remember that it needs to actually sell us on the characters, world, etc. before getting into status quote shake ups and major plot beats. That's how you get a show that is spending its first episode simultaneously going "Look at our hotel for redeeming sinners" and "Alright, we are ramping up the conflict with Heaven to set up an eventual war."

I don't know about you but I don't feel like those should be happening at the same time. But... If Filler HAS to move plot and character arcs along, the base premise of Hazbin is literally flawed. Having a random sinner of the week would be Filler. Tackling a failed method of trying to redeem someone would be Filler because technically would be accomplished or moved along. Instead, it HAS to immediately go its big plot because that's how you justify it as a real story in a modern, critical context.

That's just a flawed way of seeing media to me. How many classic works have been rendered almost entirely without merit by this way of thinking? Monster of the Week Sentai like Power Rangers? Come on, can't you cut that down to the couple plot relevant monsters and episodes in each season? Who wants to see them fighting weird, fun concepts after all, there's a big bad to kill! Classic modern shenanigans like Ed, Edd and Eddy? There's no plot so it's an entirely ephemeral product. Literally ANY sitcom from Friends to Frasier to Seinfeld, etc. can be just said as being filler and so not be meaningful and where is the usefulness of that.

And if the term is ONLY for genres with plot like adventure series... What the fuck do you have to say about Journey to the West, one of the most influential books of literally all time... Most of which is spent on obstacles that accomplish literally nothing, except maybe reinforcement on a theme, besides enabling them to take ten steps before the next obstacle slams in front of them? Are you telling me that Journey to the West is fundamentally flawed when so much of its episodic pacing is part of why it has been able to be influential and inspirational?

The more we lean on hard criteria like Filler over whether or not a piece was effective or entertaining or anything like that, the more we narrow what media is allowed to be. What a story can be. Rhetorical tools like these aren't meant to do that. They're meant to help express our discomforts and annoyances with a work. That is why we have terms like 'Repetitive,' 'Pointless' or 'Bland'. These all specifically address a problem within the work, rather than dismissing it outright simply because of its position in a narrative. They all touch on reasons why people call something Filler without being able to be misinterpreted or misused. They require the person to actually state what they don't like about it than using some arbitrary criteria in order to dismiss something.

Filler as a term doesn't even have that flavor, making it more pointless and rote than the media with that label.

======+++++======

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[sadnightforus]

THE FATED STARS (PJS) | SMAU

005 - MEET UP

Park Jongseong harbors the biggest crush on one of the most popular girls on the campus, you. You, being dared by your friend group to tweet and made a boyfriend application, initially started out as a joke, thinking that no one would applied it. Upon the tweet going viral and many applications being sent in, he decided that he would shoot his shot, even if he doesn’t know a single shit about what is the sun, moon, rising in astronomy. 

WARNINGS: cuss words. A/N: the chats are not supposed to make sense cause my friends and I really text like dat 😞

PREVIOUS. | BACK TO MASTERLIST. | NEXT.

WRITTEN STORY BELOW!

WORD COUNT: 608

WARNINGS: avoidable cuss words

 For the first time ever in Jay’s life, he’s nervous. And most importantly also really anxious too. 

 He has never really talked to you before, at least face to face. He also has doubts on why you’re asking for his birth time. However, he didn’t mind that too much though as he surely lets his thoughts brush aside as you step closer to him.

 You’re memorizing, is what he thinks. Despite you not having much of a social media following on twitter, however, you’re really well-known across the campus and your instagram stacks with 7000 followers, something impossible to achieve if you’re not a celebrity who starts out or at least a content creator.

 You’re standing in front of him now. How did you get here that quick? He has questions. But he chooses to not say anything as he hands a piece of paper, which most would’ve recognized as the boyfriend application form that you posted on Twitter as a joke (or maybe you didn’t).

“I- Here’s the fo-form.”

 Why does he stutter? He looks like a complete loser right now in front of you. 

 On the other hand, you want to giggle. You checked his Twitter and Instagram before you responded to his dms back and he wasn’t bad looking by any means, in fact, he’s very good looking that you were convinced that he wants to mess around with you. 

 Okay, sue you and your trust issue. 

“You look really beautiful, like ee-dé-rial.”

 He’s gonna cry, why does he mess it up?

“Yeah, thanks.” You thank him. “And you look good today. I guess the fashionista will never be caught in a bad outfit huh?”

 Fuck, oh my god. 

 His face is so red and the way his palms are slightly shaking is an evident of how messed up you got him. His eyes are almost shimmering with tears and his lips are quivering. You just almost sent him into a cardiac arrest. He has his head down to avoid making direct eye contact with you, while you’re analyzing his behavior and truthfully? You think it’s cute that he likes you that much. Although you’re a bit stunned that someone likes you that much, or appears to be, you want to test it out yourself. 

 Maybe it’s not a bad thing to give him a chance. And open your heart again. 

“I’ll let you know, alright? I’d love to chat longer but I got 7 minutes and I have to run to my lecture. Have a nice day!” 

 And you splint away faster than anything, all while you nicely fold the paper into your bag to review it later, leaving him stuttering and red faced from both being so flustered by his crush on you and the immense embarrassment he got by humiliating himself. 

 Then he hears snickers, from Sunoo, Sunghoon and Jungwon who managed to capture him all in different angles with the first actual interaction he has with you. They come out of the hiding places, as they approach him, all while laughing like crazy. 

“What the fuck was that?” Sunghoon is in tears, in fact, he almost cries from how embarrassing his friend is. 

“Sunoo, you look ee-dé-rial today.” Jungwon turns to Sunoo, complimenting him in a joking manner, mimicking the way Jay strongly mispronounced ethereal earlier.

“Thanks Jungwon, a fashionista like you will never have a bad outfit too.” 

“I’m going to kill myself.” Is what he mutters under his breath, seeing the way the 3 of them laugh. 

 Whatever, he’ll let himself get humiliated over and over again if it means he gets to see you paying attention to him. 

[metalmaul]

haha yeah remember like way way back maybe 14 years ago or so when there were users on this website who made those "sometimes the curtains are just blue" jokes & caused all media literacy to die forever more haha yeah haha, hi! hi, i was one of those! i killed all literacy, whoopsie!!!! i guess i just simply never ever learned about symbolism or understood any sort of point of anything in media ever again. i know lol i can't understand color or anything ever it just whizzes right over my head to this very day!!!

so, here's some thoughts to share from my perspective. in my case personally, i liked reading back then. i even liked some books that were assigned reading in school & participated with enthusiasm about them in class. there are some people who didn't like reading in general, and almost every time that's actually because they struggle to read. it is something that is incredibly difficult for them to do & not just general laziness or being ignorant forever on purpose. when you hear "i don't like reading" or "i haven't read a book in years" you might not want to gun it to "idiot" because actually, haha, that word's origin also applied to some people that others thought were not smart or worthy of respect because of a certain disability & having greater difficulty than most people to do something they find basic. instead i would recommend thinking "I wonder why that is," because that total lack of sympathy actually just discourages everyone.

anyway, some assigned reading books did not appeal to me, which made me not want to read them but there was this whole "i have to" aspect to it that made me really like the whole thing less somehow. now, to address any commentary: i can absolutely respect if a book is historically imprortant & one of the best ever written, much like all things. music, films, and art are just the same. i do not deny it. however, knowing that cannot make me enjoy something that i just personally do not. conversely, i can recognize & acknowledge when something is terrible & it sucks, but that won't stop me from enjoying it if i do.

something else very important that i think a lot of people have not considered for quite some time: sharing a joke on the internet does not actually mean that you just go to class and say "fuck you. they're just blue." the thing about school is that they give you the choice of figuring some shit out even if you do not want to at all or failing. lots of people mad about this really forget that in school you do school & on the internet you might share a joke. perhaps it is a joke that is very illiterate, even. you like the joke because you maybe really don't want to talk about symbolism in some book you don't want to read in the building you aren't allowed to leave where you spend hours & hours day after day for years being told you have to do a stack of things that you really do not want to by several adults & at least 1/3 of the town's teenaged population is trapped in this same building as you & this all happens at a stage of life where your brain & libido & emotions are cranking up to "nuclear reaction explosion" & down to "should i kill myself?" levels rapidly back & forth all day for a few years & your parents happen to legally own you & your home life is really a custom mix of making life worse generally— for me personally, there was a villain that i knew in that life chapter who was doing cool things like attempted murder so maybe that had some influence on my permanent illiteracy idk... so the joke really just takes the sting out of that whole carousel of shittiness you're experiencing, because you really would like to just not have to think about shit that you don't want to for just a moment, y'know, like just a little. on behalf of all of us, our deepest apologies about the whole destroying all understanding of media forever. not intentional.

now, incredibly, i actually analyzed & thought about many pieces of media at length & with enthusiasm quite often after my brain had settled down from maximum overdrive & i got to own myself & i wasn't in high school & things of such nature. however, i had slowly been declining in my ability to read which had started in high school, but i don't think that was because of a joke i reblogged. i just leveled up in disability on many fronts & reading became, to my dismay, so challenging that i don't read books anymore. i would sure like to. i like short story collections because my brain & my eyes don't fizzle out quite as much if it's little bursts of story instead of a slow burning candle. i also do the best with graphic novels which are an incredible aid for me. the text being broken up & spread out, the illustration accompaniment because when that "can you picture an apple" meme went around, i became aware that i don't make pictures in my head! it did explain why through all my years of reading in hindsight i simply could not picture things in books the way other people did. as a child, i'd read a book & a friend would ask me how i imagine someone/something looked like & unless there was also a film or illustrations, i just didn't! i didn't know what lots of stuff looked like. i wasn't sure how anyone was doing that.

i think that's all i have to say on this topic. i can say i have become friends with some other people over the years who also shared this joke online & they have managed to also have a grasp of media literacy despite a joke they liked in high school. i personally feel like maybe we shouldn't assume that something you thought was funny as a teenager necessarily continued to be representative of the rest of your life. i would also like to offer the idea that media illiteracy has been a problem for a very, very, very long time, & i'm sure this is an issue with quite a lot of factors & might require a pretty complex plan to improve over time that i don't have a lot of faith will happen any time soon. it would require things like "more support" & "teaching children in different ways because no one learns anything the same way" & already I'm hitting lol nah we aren't doing that x2.

[art-of-manliness]

5 Lessons From the Iron

Back in 2015, I started weightlifting seriously.  Over eight years of training, I was able to get strong. But more importantly, I discovered a hobby that brought me immense satisfaction.  While I don’t barbell train like I used to, I still religiously lift weights.  During my eight years of serious training, I’ve learned some important life lessons from the iron.  Below, I share five of them. 1. Success Comes From a Long Obedience in the Same Direction When people decide to get serious with exercise, they tend to focus on the minutiae of their new regimen. People spend a lot of time looking for the right program and the right equipment. They think they’ll see incredible gains if they find the optimal set and rep range.  But there’s something just as, if not more important, than the training program you choose: Being consistent with it for months and even years.  How did I deadlift 600 pounds? I trained consistently for six years. Sure, my programming changed during that time, but the thing that didn’t change was me going down to my garage four times a week to train.  The necessity of consistency applies to every other endeavor in life.  I’ve used the consistency principle to lose 30 pounds this year. I didn’t do any crash dieting. I just gradually reduced my calories and stuck to my macro target almost every day for eight months. That’s it.  When people ask me for advice about their online business, they often ask me about the tools and tricks Kate and I use that helped us get AoM to where it is today.  Keeping up with the latest trends in technology, marketing, and social media hasn’t been nearly as important as simply sticking to our publishing schedule; for coming up on sixteen years now, we’ve published several pieces of content nearly every single week. AoM isn’t slick, flashy, or even particularly cool, but it is consistent.  As Nietzsche put it, “everything of the nature of freedom, elegance, boldness . . . and masterly certainty”; everything to do with “virtue, art, music, dancing, reason, spirituality”; everything “that is transfiguring,” that makes “life worth living,” is premised on one thing: A “long obedience in the same direction.” The trick is figuring out ways to stay consistent over the long haul.  When it comes to exercising, we’ve written about how to work out while you’re on vacation, sick, or simply don’t feel like it. There’s plenty of good advice there, and I think it carries over to other parts of life, too.  But the real secret for staying consistent over the long haul is that . . . 2. You Got to Have Ganas Ganas is Spanish for desire.  I’ve written about the centrality of ganas in finding success in whatever you do. Most of the things I’ve achieved in life were because I really wanted to accomplish those things. I had ganas for those goals. A big reason I was able to deadlift 600 pounds is that I really, really wanted to deadlift 600 lbs. That strong desire was what compelled me to rarely miss a workout for four years. My coach could give me programming and offer corrections on technique, but he couldn’t make me want to go after a 600-lb deadlift. I had to have the desire myself. Discipline is really harped on these days as the key to success.  Discipline is one way to achieve the consistency that’s essential to reaching your goals.  But constantly exercising self-control is exhausting.  A better way to stay consistent is to operate with inherent motivation — to enjoy the thing you’re doing so that you want to do the thing that will lead to success.  What William George Jordan said about duty applies to discipline as well: Duty is a hard, mechanical process for making men do things that love would make easy. It is a poor understudy to love. It is not a high enough motive with which to inspire humanity. Duty is the body to which love is the soul. Love, in the divine alchemy of life, transmutes all duties into privileges, all responsibilities into joys. I loved going for big PRs, which is why I could be… http://dlvr.it/T0301h

[kalcifers-blog]

SUNSPELL Q&A STUFF!!!

Link to where I got the questions

1- who fell first, and who fell harder?

Sunday fell first, Marvin fell harder

2 - soldiers, poets, or kings?

Both of them are a mix of poets and soldiers :3

3 - the olive theory according to them (and their palate).

Marvin eats Sundays olives

4 - who's the ‘good old-fashioned lover boy’, and who's the ‘killer-queen’?

Sunday is GO-FLB and Marvin is Killer Queen !!!

5 - go-to pet names they have for each other, if any.

Marvin's nicknames are "Vi/Vin/Vinny", and "Kit-Kat" & Sunday's are "Sunshine", "Sunny" and "Solstice".

(They both use "love" and "babes" for each other)

6 - what are their star signs?

Marvin is canonically a Leo and I like to think that Sunday is a Gemini

7 - their sexual orientations and/or gender identities.

Marvin is MLM, Demi-aromantic & Demi-asexual. Sunday is Omnisexual (with a preference for Masc presenting people)

They're both Non-Binary.

8 - soulmates by fate/chance or by choice?

BOTH?? SOMEHOW??

9 - who's more likely to do stupid, impulsive, or random stuff, and who's there being like, ‘regrettably, that's the love of my life’?

Marvin is out doing dumb shit, Sunday is the one who's "regrettably" in love

10 - one to three songs that remind you of them.

Curses by The Crane Wives

My Love Mine All Mine by Mitski

Fighter by Jack Stauber

11 - who's the “tell me i'm pretty” one, and who's the “you're pretty fucking annoying is what you are” in the relationship?

Marvin: "Tell me I'm pretty"

Sunday, while braiding his hair: "you're pretty fucking annoying is what you are"

12 - their love languages.

Marvin is physical contact but I'm the sense that he will give affection like a cat would. Sunday is affectionate through actions!!!

13 - sun, moon, stars, earth, or eclipse?

They're so sun and moon but together they're eclipse.

14 - three to five non-sexual acts of intimacy.

Couch cuddling, forehead touching/kissing, face cupping, holding hands !!!

15 - who's the “i could beat the shit out of you” one, and who's the “i know” one?

Both interchangeably, it depends on the day

16 - one to three other ships from other pieces of media that may remind you of them.

Jonmartin (Jon x Martin) The Magnus Archives

Raeda (Raine x Eda) The Owl House

17 - who's the dog person, and who's the cat person? (other pets or animals may also apply.)

Marvin's a cat and Sunday's a bear (obviously)

18 - their absolute favourite thing about each other in the whole wide world.

Sunday absolutely loves Marvin's eyes and tattoos and how strong-willed they are- Marvin loves how caring and understanding Sunday is- he loves how well his gold jewelry compliments them and how it matches their eyes.

19 - do they ever match in any way?

They match in the sense that they're both very blunt and very much will challenge the people around them (they've probably done so with eachother but under the knowledge that they both are on the same page about it.)

20 - their own little way (or ways) to say ‘i love you’.

Marvin always leaves Sunday notes, a lot of it is dumb stuff or little doodles and to anyone else they would be meaningless, but it makes Sunday smile. Marvin would also keep note of anything and everything Sunday enjoys, music, food, books etc. and always randomly surprises them on later dates (Sunday is almost always like "how did you even remember this??" (Marvin wrote it down))

Sunday knows how Marvin can get lost in work so will show up to their house with food for dinner. They can tell if somethings up and what to do when it is. And they do so without question or being asked.

They both send each other pictures all the time, will get into long talks, will joke about bad movies together. Or just comfortably sit in silence together.

21 - who's the “i wouldn't marry myself either” one, and who's the “i would marry you with parer rings” one? (alternatively: i'd marry you with paper rings vs. i'm rich. i'll get you a diamond)?

They would both marry each other with paper rings because they matter more to each other than any material object ever would.

22 - coffee or tea?

I think they'd both prefer herbal tea but I am required to make Sunday a mocha enjoyer

23 - one to five tropes they embody or could pull off in an AU.

Fantasy/fantasy royalty AU

ATLA AU

childhood friends to lovers

Coffeeshop AU

Hurt/Comfort

[rollercoasterwords]

consumer culture + fandom rot

here's some more fandom analysis nobody asked for!! this is gonna be my charlie day moment this is gonna be me standing in front of a red-string corkboard shouting about how i've connected the dots bc i cannot sleep and i am in desperate need of a topic to take my mind off Other Things. so here's me breaking down what i mean when i say that consumer culture is the root issue of all (? or at least many of) the problems i currently see in marauders fanfic/fandom spaces (the only fandom i am plugged into; perhaps some of this can be generalized outwards, perhaps some of it cannot. i'm not an expert on anything i'm just overthinking shit i Observe).

Part 1: The Black Hole of Consumer Culture

ok so first we need context first we need to make sure we're on the same page and the page that we're on is that late stage capitalism is destroying our ability to see literally anything outside of a consumer culture. like we are reaching a point where literally every facet of our lives is monetized, including our hobbies, our entertainment, our art.

like. ok. part of the sort of like...promise? expectation? assumption? with capitalism is that work, money, the consumer economy, all that jazz is a contained sphere, right? you have your home life, and you have your work life. but that just...doesn't really exist anymore. no matter where you are, no matter what you're doing, you are consuming or being consumed. everywhere we turn, somebody is selling us something; everywhere we turn, our lives, our data, our attention is being sold to advertisers, who then use that information to sell us back their products. we are all stuck in this endless consumer cycle. and because we're stuck in this cycle where the lines between our private interior interests and thoughts versus our public selves and images are constantly blurred, it's getting to the point where we are being taught to literally always see ourselves as products for the consumption of those around us. this was only exacerbated by the pandemic, where suddenly everyone was lonely and isolated and seeking connections through algorithmic social media platforms that turn you into a product for advertisers and then work to sell shit back to you. i mean, i think about margaret atwood's whole "you are the male voyeur in your own head," right, but with the growth of social media and the surveillance state there's almost this constant sense of being watched that i think applies to practically everyone, and there's also this sense that the only way to assuage our loneliness is to boil ourselves down into byte-sized (couldn't resist the pun sorry) aesthetic photographs or 30 second tiktok clips or pithy little tweets to gets as many likes as possible, and that's--fuck, sorry, i'm already ranting, but it's just. it's just. that's not what being human is, and yet because we are stuck in this consumer cycle it is becoming more and more difficult to see ourselves outside of it, and that means boiling ourselves down to the most shallow and basic little pieces of meaningless shit in a desperate attempt for some part of ourselves to just be seen by strangers on the internet. and social media is tugging us in with these algorithms, destroying our attention spans, getting us addicted with little dopamine hits until we literally do not know how to connect with each other as people, as human beings, because all of our social interaction is coming from people's boiled-down internet personas and these parasocial relationships we develop with what essentially amounts to cardboard cutouts of humanity, and we wonder why we're all so fucking lonely all the time, and we open our phones to scroll through tiktok to get that dopamine hit and try to forget. fucking FUCK it's a nightmare and we're all stuck in it. sorry.

the point: it is becoming more and more difficult to see any aspect of life outside of the framework of a consumer culture, where everything--even our very personalities, our very selves--is a product for consumption by someone, somebody, somewhere, anywhere.

so if this is what's happening to us, what's happening to our art?

Part 2: The Deterioration of Art

look, let's get my personal stance on art established and out of the way, alright? i think that good art, dare i say real art, is one thing: a conversation. i think good art (using "art" broadly here--literature, music, performance, etc all included) asks us questions, good art makes us think, good art sits with us and says: what does it mean to be human? good art does not hold up a set of moral guidelines and say "this is how you're meant to live your life"; good art holds up a mirror and says "how do you think you're meant to live your life?" good art engages our critical thought.

the consumer economy is not conducive to critical thought. the consumer economy is not conducive to good art. the consumer economy wants your attention now, right now, and now it wants you to look at something else, and now it wants you to look at something else, and it wants you consuming as fast as possible, and it doesn't want you sitting and thinking and reflecting on what you consume. and it is extremely difficult to find any art that exists outside of the consumer economy, at this point, because like i said--we're all stuck in it.

and the thing is, like. it is incredibly difficult (maybe even impossible) for any art, any media, that is created within the consumer economy to actually challenge its hegemony, because like...i mean, the organizations producing so much of our art are businesses. the tv shows and movies we watch, the books coming out of these big publishing houses, the music that gets played on the radio--all of it ultimately has a vested interest in maintaining the status quo, because the status quo is what puts money in the pockets of these giant corporations.

so what does that mean? what does it mean that so much of our art is being produced by corporations that want to keep us happy and distracted and consuming as much as possible, as fast as possible?

it means we aren't getting art as a conversation. we aren't getting art that challenges us to think deeply, and critically, and to struggle with what it means to be human. instead, we are falling prey to this insidious idea that art ought to exist with moral guidelines built in, that art is supposed to tell us how to live. and it concerns me to see this growing spread of moral puritanism that aligns in many ways with what i've seen in the conservative christian spaces i grew up in, which decries any moral ambiguity as Supporting Moral Wrongs--as though art is something meant to be morally pure, and if it's not then it is a corrupting influence that must be eradicated. and because we're being brainwashed into thinking that art is no longer meant to be a conversation, but instead a simple product to consume that already has all the answers pre-packaged for us, we end up seeing so much mainstream art and media that is so incredibly shallow, as well as increasing censorship surrounding art. i'm just gonna link to this jen silverman essay, which talks about this really well.

Part 3: Bringing it Back to Fanfic

ok so here's where i finally start to get to the point. and the point is that fanfiction is meant to exist outside the consumer economy (if you've read any of my other posts about this, you'll probably think i'm starting to sound like a broken record. that's because i am). and that is so incredibly unique in this day and age. there is so, so little art left that exists entirely outside the realm of the capitalist meat-grinder, and we should be striving to protect it at all costs.

but! but. of course, the consumer economy is insidious and it spreads like a mold over everything. and the thing is--here's my theory, okay? here's my theory. not an expert, new to fandom spaces, disclaimer disclaimer blah blah blah. here's my theory.

i really think that tiktok is largely the reason that fanfiction has become so much more tied into a consumer economy over the past 3ish years. like, marauders fandom specifically--it seems like atyd going viral on tiktok is what essentially started this wave of people going, "oh, fanfiction can be TikTok content," and then suddenly...it was. and once fanfiction became TikTok content, it got placed inside a consumer economy, because tiktok is an algorithmic social media that does all the shit i discussed in part one of this fucking. rant. essay. whatever.

SO suddenly people are interacting with fanfic within the framework of a consumer economy, and we see this shift in fandom culture that i think has left a lot of people really confused and upset and has also led to just a lot of people talking over each other, because if two people are engaging with a form of art using entirely different frameworks, it's just like...well ur starting with different premises. like of course you're going to have communication issues.

anyway here are some problems that i personally have observed that i think all tie back to this issue of engaging with fanfiction through the framework of a consumer economy:

unnecessarily criticizing fanfction the way you might criticize a product that you paid for and didn't like

demanding that fanfic writers produce a certain amount of content or produce content in a specific way, as though fanfic writers are making a product for audience consumption

engaging with fanfiction under the assumption that anyone writing fanfic wants it to be advertised and go viral and gain a huge audience

when a fanfic does go viral and someone gains a huge audience despite never seeking it out, treating that person like an influencer or celebrity and placing expectations + responsibilities on them that they literally never asked for

on the flipside of that, people getting into writing fanfiction who like...advertise their fic as though their goal is to go viral. i mean there's nothing wrong with sharing your work on the internet and wanting people to see it, y'know? but just like...evaluate your own motivations behind why you're sharing your writing. if your main priority is to just to get as many likes as possible, it will probably not end up being a very sustainable or joyful hobby for you.

treating fanfic as though it is meant to be a set of moral guidelines (rather than a conversation about morality) and loudly declaring fanfic problematic when it contains subject matter that does not align with your personal moral code

acting as though there is a clear delineation between writers and readers of fanfiction in a way that plays into the dynamics of producers and consumers

i'm sure this isn't a comprehensive list but this is everything that's coming to mind for me right now. so. yeah. when i say that placing fanfiction within consumer culture is like the Root of All Evil this is what i mean! and this is why i think it is so so so important to push back against fanfiction being placed in a consumer economy and to try very hard to keep it separate in its own little oasis.

in conclusion i have cracked the code. i am so tired. the end.