#this is such a great performance and for WHAT

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Bossware is unfair (in the legal sense, too)

You can get into a lot of trouble by assuming that rich people know what they're doing. For example, might assume that ad-tech works – bypassing peoples' critical faculties, reaching inside their minds and brainwashing them with Big Data insights, because if that's not what's happening, then why would rich people pour billions into those ads?

https://pluralistic.net/2020/12/06/surveillance-tulip-bulbs/#adtech-bubble

You might assume that private equity looters make their investors rich, because otherwise, why would rich people hand over trillions for them to play with?

https://thenextrecession.wordpress.com/2024/11/19/private-equity-vampire-capital/

The truth is, rich people are suckers like the rest of us. If anything, succeeding once or twice makes you an even bigger mark, with a sense of your own infallibility that inflates to fill the bubble your yes-men seal you inside of.

Rich people fall for scams just like you and me. Anyone can be a mark. I was:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/05/cyber-dunning-kruger/#swiss-cheese-security

But though rich people can fall for scams the same way you and I do, the way those scams play out is very different when the marks are wealthy. As Keynes had it, "The market can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent." When the marks are rich (or worse, super-rich), they can be played for much longer before they go bust, creating the appearance of solidity.

Noted Keynesian John Kenneth Galbraith had his own thoughts on this. Galbraith coined the term "bezzle" to describe "the magic interval when a confidence trickster knows he has the money he has appropriated but the victim does not yet understand that he has lost it." In that magic interval, everyone feels better off: the mark thinks he's up, and the con artist knows he's up.

Rich marks have looong bezzles. Empirically incorrect ideas grounded in the most outrageous superstition and junk science can take over whole sections of your life, simply because a rich person – or rich people – are convinced that they're good for you.

Take "scientific management." In the early 20th century, the con artist Frederick Taylor convinced rich industrialists that he could increase their workers' productivity through a kind of caliper-and-stopwatch driven choreographry:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/08/21/great-taylors-ghost/#solidarity-or-bust

Taylor and his army of labcoated sadists perched at the elbows of factory workers (whom Taylor referred to as "stupid," "mentally sluggish," and as "an ox") and scripted their motions to a fare-the-well, transforming their work into a kind of kabuki of obedience. They weren't more efficient, but they looked smart, like obedient robots, and this made their bosses happy. The bosses shelled out fortunes for Taylor's services, even though the workers who followed his prescriptions were less efficient and generated fewer profits. Bosses were so dazzled by the spectacle of a factory floor of crisply moving people interfacing with crisply working machines that they failed to understand that they were losing money on the whole business.

To the extent they noticed that their revenues were declining after implementing Taylorism, they assumed that this was because they needed more scientific management. Taylor had a sweet con: the worse his advice performed, the more reasons their were to pay him for more advice.

Taylorism is a perfect con to run on the wealthy and powerful. It feeds into their prejudice and mistrust of their workers, and into their misplaced confidence in their own ability to understand their workers' jobs better than their workers do. There's always a long dollar to be made playing the "scientific management" con.

Today, there's an app for that. "Bossware" is a class of technology that monitors and disciplines workers, and it was supercharged by the pandemic and the rise of work-from-home. Combine bossware with work-from-home and your boss gets to control your life even when in your own place – "work from home" becomes "live at work":

https://pluralistic.net/2021/02/24/gwb-rumsfeld-monsters/#bossware

Gig workers are at the white-hot center of bossware. Gig work promises "be your own boss," but bossware puts a Taylorist caliper wielder into your phone, monitoring and disciplining you as you drive your wn car around delivering parcels or picking up passengers.

In automation terms, a worker hitched to an app this way is a "reverse centaur." Automation theorists call a human augmented by a machine a "centaur" – a human head supported by a machine's tireless and strong body. A "reverse centaur" is a machine augmented by a human – like the Amazon delivery driver whose app goads them to make inhuman delivery quotas while punishing them for looking in the "wrong" direction or even singing along with the radio:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/08/02/despotism-on-demand/#virtual-whips

Bossware pre-dates the current AI bubble, but AI mania has supercharged it. AI pumpers insist that AI can do things it positively cannot do – rolling out an "autonomous robot" that turns out to be a guy in a robot suit, say – and rich people are groomed to buy the services of "AI-powered" bossware:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/29/pay-no-attention/#to-the-little-man-behind-the-curtain

For an AI scammer like Elon Musk or Sam Altman, the fact that an AI can't do your job is irrelevant. From a business perspective, the only thing that matters is whether a salesperson can convince your boss that an AI can do your job – whether or not that's true:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/07/25/accountability-sinks/#work-harder-not-smarter

The fact that AI can't do your job, but that your boss can be convinced to fire you and replace you with the AI that can't do your job, is the central fact of the 21st century labor market. AI has created a world of "algorithmic management" where humans are demoted to reverse centaurs, monitored and bossed about by an app.

The techbro's overwhelming conceit is that nothing is a crime, so long as you do it with an app. Just as fintech is designed to be a bank that's exempt from banking regulations, the gig economy is meant to be a workplace that's exempt from labor law. But this wheeze is transparent, and easily pierced by enforcers, so long as those enforcers want to do their jobs. One such enforcer is Alvaro Bedoya, an FTC commissioner with a keen interest in antitrust's relationship to labor protection.

Bedoya understands that antitrust has a checkered history when it comes to labor. As he's written, the history of antitrust is a series of incidents in which Congress revised the law to make it clear that forming a union was not the same thing as forming a cartel, only to be ignored by boss-friendly judges:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/14/aiming-at-dollars/#not-men

Bedoya is no mere historian. He's an FTC Commissioner, one of the most powerful regulators in the world, and he's profoundly interested in using that power to help workers, especially gig workers, whose misery starts with systemic, wide-scale misclassification as contractors:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/02/upward-redistribution/

In a new speech to NYU's Wagner School of Public Service, Bedoya argues that the FTC's existing authority allows it to crack down on algorithmic management – that is, algorithmic management is illegal, even if you break the law with an app:

https://www.ftc.gov/system/files/ftc_gov/pdf/bedoya-remarks-unfairness-in-workplace-surveillance-and-automated-management.pdf

Bedoya starts with a delightful analogy to The Hawtch-Hawtch, a mythical town from a Dr Seuss poem. The Hawtch-Hawtch economy is based on beekeeping, and the Hawtchers develop an overwhelming obsession with their bee's laziness, and determine to wring more work (and more honey) out of him. So they appoint a "bee-watcher." But the bee doesn't produce any more honey, which leads the Hawtchers to suspect their bee-watcher might be sleeping on the job, so they hire a bee-watcher-watcher. When that doesn't work, they hire a bee-watcher-watcher-watcher, and so on and on.

For gig workers, it's bee-watchers all the way down. Call center workers are subjected to "AI" video monitoring, and "AI" voice monitoring that purports to measure their empathy. Another AI times their calls. Two more AIs analyze the "sentiment" of the calls and the success of workers in meeting arbitrary metrics. On average, a call-center worker is subjected to five forms of bossware, which stand at their shoulders, marking them down and brooking no debate.

For example, when an experienced call center operator fielded a call from a customer with a flooded house who wanted to know why no one from her boss's repair plan system had come out to address the flooding, the operator was punished by the AI for failing to try to sell the customer a repair plan. There was no way for the operator to protest that the customer had a repair plan already, and had called to complain about it.

Workers report being sickened by this kind of surveillance, literally – stressed to the point of nausea and insomnia. Ironically, one of the most pervasive sources of automation-driven sickness are the "AI wellness" apps that bosses are sold by AI hucksters:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/03/15/wellness-taylorism/#sick-of-spying

The FTC has broad authority to block "unfair trade practices," and Bedoya builds the case that this is an unfair trade practice. Proving an unfair trade practice is a three-part test: a practice is unfair if it causes "substantial injury," can't be "reasonably avoided," and isn't outweighed by a "countervailing benefit." In his speech, Bedoya makes the case that algorithmic management satisfies all three steps and is thus illegal.

On the question of "substantial injury," Bedoya describes the workday of warehouse workers working for ecommerce sites. He describes one worker who is monitored by an AI that requires him to pick and drop an object off a moving belt every 10 seconds, for ten hours per day. The worker's performance is tracked by a leaderboard, and supervisors punish and scold workers who don't make quota, and the algorithm auto-fires if you fail to meet it.

Under those conditions, it was only a matter of time until the worker experienced injuries to two of his discs and was permanently disabled, with the company being found 100% responsible for this injury. OSHA found a "direct connection" between the algorithm and the injury. No wonder warehouses sport vending machines that sell painkillers rather than sodas. It's clear that algorithmic management leads to "substantial injury."

What about "reasonably avoidable?" Can workers avoid the harms of algorithmic management? Bedoya describes the experience of NYC rideshare drivers who attended a round-table with him. The drivers describe logging tens of thousands of successful rides for the apps they work for, on promise of "being their own boss." But then the apps start randomly suspending them, telling them they aren't eligible to book a ride for hours at a time, sending them across town to serve an underserved area and still suspending them. Drivers who stop for coffee or a pee are locked out of the apps for hours as punishment, and so drive 12-hour shifts without a single break, in hopes of pleasing the inscrutable, high-handed app.

All this, as drivers' pay is falling and their credit card debts are mounting. No one will explain to drivers how their pay is determined, though the legal scholar Veena Dubal's work on "algorithmic wage discrimination" reveals that rideshare apps temporarily increase the pay of drivers who refuse rides, only to lower it again once they're back behind the wheel:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/12/algorithmic-wage-discrimination/#fishers-of-men

This is like the pit boss who gives a losing gambler some freebies to lure them back to the table, over and over, until they're broke. No wonder they call this a "casino mechanic." There's only two major rideshare apps, and they both use the same high-handed tactics. For Bedoya, this satisfies the second test for an "unfair practice" – it can't be reasonably avoided. If you drive rideshare, you're trapped by the harmful conduct.

The final prong of the "unfair practice" test is whether the conduct has "countervailing value" that makes up for this harm.

To address this, Bedoya goes back to the call center, where operators' performance is assessed by "Speech Emotion Recognition" algorithms, a psuedoscientific hoax that purports to be able to determine your emotions from your voice. These SERs don't work – for example, they might interpret a customer's laughter as anger. But they fail differently for different kinds of workers: workers with accents – from the American south, or the Philippines – attract more disapprobation from the AI. Half of all call center workers are monitored by SERs, and a quarter of workers have SERs scoring them "constantly."

Bossware AIs also produce transcripts of these workers' calls, but workers with accents find them "riddled with errors." These are consequential errors, since their bosses assess their performance based on the transcripts, and yet another AI produces automated work scores based on them.

In other words, algorithmic management is a procession of bee-watchers, bee-watcher-watchers, and bee-watcher-watcher-watchers, stretching to infinity. It's junk science. It's not producing better call center workers. It's producing arbitrary punishments, often against the best workers in the call center.

There is no "countervailing benefit" to offset the unavoidable substantial injury of life under algorithmic management. In other words, algorithmic management fails all three prongs of the "unfair practice" test, and it's illegal.

What should we do about it? Bedoya builds the case for the FTC acting on workers' behalf under its "unfair practice" authority, but he also points out that the lack of worker privacy is at the root of this hellscape of algorithmic management.

He's right. The last major update Congress made to US privacy law was in 1988, when they banned video-store clerks from telling the newspapers which VHS cassettes you rented. The US is long overdue for a new privacy regime, and workers under algorithmic management are part of a broad coalition that's closer than ever to making that happen:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/06/privacy-first/#but-not-just-privacy

Workers should have the right to know which of their data is being collected, who it's being shared by, and how it's being used. We all should have that right. That's what the actors' strike was partly motivated by: actors who were being ordered to wear mocap suits to produce data that could be used to produce a digital double of them, "training their replacement," but the replacement was a deepfake.

With a Trump administration on the horizon, the future of the FTC is in doubt. But the coalition for a new privacy law includes many of Trumpland's most powerful blocs – like Jan 6 rioters whose location was swept up by Google and handed over to the FBI. A strong privacy law would protect their Fourth Amendment rights – but also the rights of BLM protesters who experienced this far more often, and with far worse consequences, than the insurrectionists.

The "we do it with an app, so it's not illegal" ruse is wearing thinner by the day. When you have a boss for an app, your real boss gets an accountability sink, a convenient scapegoat that can be blamed for your misery.

The fact that this makes you worse at your job, that it loses your boss money, is no guarantee that you will be spared. Rich people make great marks, and they can remain irrational longer than you can remain solvent. Markets won't solve this one – but worker power can.

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

[maxarchive]

Alain Prost's praise for the champion who has become his equal

If he wasn't initially keen to talk, it wasn't because he didn't want to share his place on the list of four-time F1 world champions (with Sebastian Vettel), but because he didn't have the time. Alain Prost really likes Max Verstappen and has never been reluctant to speak highly of the Dutch driver for L'Équipe. The French world champion finally agreed to give us his analysis of his 27-year-old counterpart last Sunday. Thirty minutes of Zoom interview that demonstrate the esteem, even admiration, of the 69-year-old former driver for Verstappen.

Having Verstappen as a neighbor on the prize list. Does that mean anything to you?

Yes, sincerely. I am pleased to be in such good company. Because there are only three of us with four titles, but I remember when Michael joined me and when Lewis came through. I will not forget that Fangio was the first driver to win four crowns (the Argentinian champion was crowned a fifth time). All the same, we're among a handful of names who, without sounding presumptuous (he reflects), are out of the ordinary. We're part of history. To be a four-time world champion is a kind of pride. And Max, looking back on his career, can be proud of it. He hasn't stolen any of his crowns. You can have a bit of luck, like me in 1986, but you have to know how to provoke it and then seize it. Max is not missing anything. I remember that in 2016 during his first victory I was commentating for Canal and I promised him a bright future. He didn't disappoint me. What he's already achieved is really impressive. Verstappen is clearly unique. He is not just anyone, whether it's his personality, his character or his commitment. You can love him or hate him, but he certainly doesn't leave you indifferent. Like many great champions, he's atypical.

This crown, do you think it was the hardest for him to win?

Only he can say. I don't know what his car was really worth. (He reflects.) And then we mustn't forget that highly controversial title in 2021. It's still very difficult to have an objective analysis. Frankly, both of them (Hamilton and Verstappen) deserved the title for the whole season. It was Max who won it in the conditions we all know. It was his first crown, and once again he went out and won it. It's always difficult to win your first crown. In fact, I remember very well what I said that evening in Abu Dhabi: from now on we'll see the real Verstappen. And we've seen him since then (he smiles). He's freed himself. He's erased his little mistakes and his impatience. He's become very, very strong. Coming back to this year, he's had to fight hard and I think he's shown some very fine things. A lot of confidence, a lot of serenity. Even when he complains, but he has always done it, he did it with less annoyance. That's the mark of a more accomplished champion.

You describe an extraordinary champion. Does he have any weaknesses?

At the moment, it's hard to find any. I don't know what he'll do in the future, but even in terms of communication, with all the rumours with Mercedes and the worries with Red Bull, I've found him to be very solid… He's good on all terrains. He's a very tough driver on the track, but you can't see that as a weakness.

So he'll be unbeatable next year?

Well, next year is another debate. It will be a rather special year, the last with the current ground-effect car. We've already seen a tightening of performance between different teams. Max's strength is that, in certain races, he can make the difference all by himself. And that's a big advantage for a team, and of course for the Championship. So I'd still put him as favourite next year, but now the other teams know that Red Bull is beatable.

When Vettel won his fourth crown, you were delighted because you felt he was very close to you in terms of personality. Do you think Verstappen is more on the side of Ayrton Senna?

Max has a lot in common with Ayrton, especially at the start of their careers. Today, a little less so. He has his own way of being. He's always followed his own idea, in his own way. That's why, when you get to know him a little, I think he's close to Seb or me. These are things I like about him. On the track, I find him very respectful.

Very respectful?

Yes, in his own way. He's not a cheater. You're going to talk to me about track limits. But it's the way he drives; it's an education. For him, it's the norm. The best proof is that when he's penalized, he accepts it. As always, he goes as far as he can.

Hamilton fought against Alonso or Nico Rosberg, you against Senna. Do you think he lacks high-level opponents to climb even higher in the collective imagination?

Nowadays, it's the rule not to have two drivers of the same level in a team. But Max has had to deal with Ricciardo, Gasly and Perez. After all, they're not just heats! We're talking about Grand Prix winners. You're talking about his popularity. The good thing about Max is that he's free. He doesn't cheat: he's just the way he is, following his thing. Tomorrow, he could tell you that in a month's time he's quitting, and nobody would be surprised! That's him and that's his thing. He certainly cares much less about the image he may have than many other drivers. But I think he'll be remembered as an incredibly talented driver. Very tough, of course, but his four titles are totally deserved and he's right up there at the top.

[hellobykittys]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 (𝐈𝐌)𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐍 ✦ 𝐂𝐋¹⁶

SUMMARY: Charles Leclerc, a Formula 1 star, faces the decline of his reputation after breaking up with art curator Alexandra Saint Mleux. Under pressure from his team, he is forced into a fake relationship with one of the most popular influencers of the moment. NOTES: English is not my first language, so there might be some writing mistakes. I apologize for that, and feel free to point out any improvements. WC: 2.6k WARNING: enemies to lovers, teasing, fake relationship

MASTERLIST | NEXT PART

The meeting room was lit by cold lights reflecting off an impeccably clean glass table. Charles Leclerc sat at the head, his chin resting on his hand, visibly bored. The tension in the air was thick, and he already knew this meeting wasn’t going to end well. Around the table, members of Ferrari’s PR team sat, along with Lorenzo Leclerc, Charles’ older brother and personal manager.

“Let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, crossing his arms. His voice carried the firmness of someone tired of useless discussions. “Charles, we need to talk about your reputation.”

Charles rolled his eyes, setting his phone down on the table.

“My reputation? You mean the circus the media makes out of everything I do?”

“It’s not a circus if you keep giving them material,” Sofia, Ferrari’s PR head, cut in. A woman with short hair and piercing eyes, Sofia was known for her blunt and impatient approach.

“Seriously?” Charles raised an eyebrow. “Now you want to control my personal life too?”

Lorenzo sighed, rubbing his temples.

“Charles, we’re not here to debate who’s right or wrong. We’re here because your image is directly affecting your career.”

“My career’s fine,” Charles shot back, crossing his arms.

Sofia slammed a folder full of tabloid clippings on the table, making a sharp noise.

“Is it? Because from what we see here, it doesn’t look like it. ‘Charles Leclerc spotted at a party until 5 AM with a mysterious model.’ ‘Ferrari driver involved in a new controversy after a fight at a club.’ This affects the sponsors, Charles. It affects the Ferrari brand.”

Charles leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face.

“Look, I get it. But what do you want me to do? Lock myself in my house?”

“Not exactly,” Sofia replied with a cold smile that made Charles immediately suspicious.

Lorenzo cleared his throat, trying to soften what was coming.

“Charles, we’ve come up with a solution that could help clean up your image quickly while you focus on what really matters: your performance on the track.”

“Great. So, what’s the plan?” he asked, clearly impatient.

Sofia leaned forward, clasping her hands on the table.

“We’re going to put you in a fake relationship.”

The silence that followed was so deep that you could hear the clock ticking on the wall. Charles blinked a few times, sure he’d misunderstood.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“We’re not,” Sofia replied, serious. “The idea is simple. We want to associate your image with a public figure who’s seen as positive, inspiring, and… balanced.”

“You want me to fake being in love with someone to save my reputation? This is ridiculous!”

“It’s not that simple, Charles,” Lorenzo tried to intervene. “We’re not asking you to fall in love. It’s a contract. An agreement. None of this has to be real.”

Charles laughed humorlessly, shaking his head.

“And who’s this poor soul you’ve hired for this?”

Sofia smiled, clearly expecting this question.

“Y/N.”

The name hit the silence like a shot. Charles frowned, trying to remember where he’d heard it. It didn’t take long before the girl’s face popped into his mind. She was impossible to ignore on social media, with her impeccable style, viral videos, and appearances at fashion and entertainment events.

“You’re talking about that… influencer?” he asked, incredulous.

“Not just any influencer. She’s the influencer right now,” Sofia corrected. “Everyone loves her. She’s elegant, charismatic, and has a solid fanbase. Associating with her will change the public’s perception of you.”

“You want me to fake dating a girl I barely know and who probably thinks race cars are just fancy toys?” Charles shot back, irritated.

Lorenzo took a deep breath, visibly trying to stay calm.

“Charles, no one’s saying it’ll be easy. But think of it as a strategy. Y/N isn’t just an influencer. She’s professional, ambitious, and has as much to gain from this as you do.”

“Great. So, she’s doing it for personal gain too,” Charles said sarcastically.

Sofia rolled her eyes.

“This isn’t about what she wants, it’s about what you need.”

Charles sat in silence for a few seconds, staring at the table. The idea seemed absurd. He didn’t want to give up his freedom for some farce that, deep down, made no sense to him.

“You guys must be crazy if you think I’ll agree to this,” Charles declared, suddenly standing up. His voice echoed through the room, but no one seemed surprised by his reaction.

Lorenzo sighed, already expecting this kind of response. He knew his brother too well to think he’d accept something so outside his comfort zone without resistance.

“Charles, sit down,” Lorenzo said, his voice firm and authoritative. “You have every right to be angry, but if you keep acting like a spoiled child, you won’t get anywhere.”

“A spoiled child?” Charles laughed darkly, pointing at his brother. “This coming from you, trying to convince me to join this ridiculous show. It’s my life, Lorenzo! I’m not a puppet for you guys to manipulate.”

Sofia intervened, trying to stay professional, but her patience was clearly wearing thin.

“Charles, understand this: we’re talking about your career. It’s not just about you. It’s about the team, the sponsors, the thousands of jobs that depend on Ferrari’s success. Formula 1 is a business, and in this business, your image is as important as your driving skills.”

“My driving skills should be the only thing that matters!” he shot back, pointing to himself. “I’m a driver. That’s what I do. I’m not a celebrity who needs a fake romance to get attention.”

“Don’t be naive, Charles,” Sofia replied coldly. “In today’s world, public perception is everything. You could be the best driver on the grid, but if your image keeps getting tied to scandals, no one will want to invest in you.”

Lorenzo crossed his arms, looking at his brother seriously.

“You know she’s right. You don’t have to like the idea, but you have to accept that it’s necessary.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to calm down, but the knot in his throat only tightened. He hated the idea of being seen as someone who couldn’t control his own life, but Lorenzo and Sofia had a point: the external pressure was becoming unbearable.

“Why her?” he asked, his voice a little quieter.

Sofia gave a slight smile, as though she’d been waiting for this question.

“Because Y/N is exactly what you need. She has an impeccable reputation, knows how to handle the media, and most importantly, knows how to play the game.”

“And how are you so sure she’ll agree to this?” Charles asked, crossing his arms.

“We’ve already talked to her,” Lorenzo revealed. “She agreed. Obviously, she has her conditions, but she’s willing to collaborate.”

Charles laughed, incredulous.

“Of course she agreed. She’s probably loving the idea of being associated with me. She’ll gain even more followers and the ‘Wag’ title. That must be her dream.”

“Don’t underestimate Y/N,” Sofia warned. “She’s far from being a superficial girl. If she agreed, it’s because she saw value in the proposal, just like we did.”

Charles fell silent for a moment, processing everything that had been said. He felt a mix of anger, frustration, and, in a way, helplessness. He hated being put against the wall, but he knew refusing wouldn’t solve his problems.

“And how long is this going to last?” he asked, his disgust evident.

“The contract is for a year,” Lorenzo answered. “Long enough to solidify the lie, but short enough not to be unsustainable.”

“And what if it doesn’t work?”

“It will work,” Sofia assured him confidently.

Charles let out a heavy sigh, running his hands through his hair.

“I hate you guys.”

“Feel free to hate us all you want,” Lorenzo replied, standing up. “But do what needs to be done.”

Sofia grabbed the folder and gave one last look at Charles.

“Y/N will be here tomorrow to talk officially. Hope you’re ready.”

With that, everyone began to leave the room, leaving Charles alone. He slumped back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, trying to accept that, like it or not, his life was about to change.

The meeting room was spacious and well-lit, with glass walls offering a panoramic view of the city. Charles Leclerc was already there, on time this time, sitting next to the conference table in a relaxed yet attentive posture. He was casually flipping through a document, but his mind was elsewhere. The decision to accept the deal still felt surreal.

When the door opened, he lifted his eyes and saw Y/N entering with confident steps. She looked calm, self-assured. She wore a fitted blazer and pants that accentuated her confident posture. Her perfume reached him before her voice, subtle yet striking.

“Hope I’m not late,” she said, placing her bag on a chair and giving Charles a brief glance before looking away.

“You’re not,” he replied, giving a slight nod, observing her carefully.

Lorenzo and Sofia entered right after, carrying folders and an air of seriousness.

“Alright, now that everyone’s here, let’s get straight to the point,” Lorenzo began, taking his seat at the head of the table. “You both know how important this partnership is, both for the team and for your respective careers.”

“It’s not like we have much of a choice, right?” Y/N commented, not aggressively, but with a touch of realism.

“Not exactly,” Sofia answered, unfazed. “But we expect you to see the mutual benefit in this.”

Charles leaned his elbows on the table and glanced at Y/N for a moment before speaking.

“And you? What do you think of all this?”

Y/N blinked, surprised by the direct question, but maintained her composure.

“I think it’s… unexpected. But I won’t deny it’s an opportunity. And you?”

He tilted his head slightly, as if considering.

“I think it could work, as long as we follow a few rules.”

“Rules?” she repeated, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes,” he answered, with a slight smile. “Like, don’t try to kill me in front of the cameras.”

Y/N let out a short laugh, almost genuine.

“I think I can follow that.”

Lorenzo interrupted, trying to keep the focus.

“Great. Let’s start by clarifying expectations. You’ll need to attend events together, create interactions for social media, and above all, look natural.”

“Does that mean we need to get to know each other better?” Y/N asked, looking directly at Charles, this time with less provocation and more curiosity.

“Probably,” he replied, her eyes holding his for a moment longer than necessary.

Sofia cleared her throat.

“For that, we recommend starting with something simple. A dinner, maybe. Nothing formal, just so you get used to being together outside a professional setting.”

Y/N looked away, pretending to think, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about the idea.

“Seems fair,” she finally said, grabbing a pen to sign the contract placed in front of her.

Charles didn’t say anything but let the corner of his mouth curve into a slight smile. He grabbed his own copy of the contract and signed it right after her.

When they finished, Lorenzo looked at both of them.

“Perfect. From now on, you’re officially a couple.”

Lorenzo’s statement hung in the air like an uncomfortable reminder of what had just been signed. Y/N grabbed her bag, ready to leave, but hesitated at the door.

“Charles?” she called, without turning around.

“Yeah?”

“I don’t plan on complicating this, but I hope you do your part.”

Charles adjusted his watch nonchalantly, as if this kind of deal was something he had mastered.

“I always do.” A discreet smile formed on his lips. “But maybe we should establish a few rules to make sure it works.”

“It’s so nice to see you both so… invested!” Sofia interrupted, letting out a light laugh. “But I’ll leave the details to you two. Just don’t kill each other, please.”

Lorenzo stood up shortly after, giving his brother a nearly conspiratorial look before giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. When he said goodbye to Y/N, he smiled warmly, as if to say, “Good luck.”

Once the room was silent, Charles broke it with a casual tone.

“So, about those rules…”

Y/N crossed her arms, clearly determined to make everything crystal clear from the start.

“The first limit is simple: don’t touch or kiss me without prior notice.”

Charles raised an eyebrow, surprised, but entertained by her firmness.

“You do realize that’s basically what couples do, right? Touch, kiss, look close… How are we supposed to convince anyone we’re real if we’re so mechanical?”

“I never said it was forbidden,” she corrected, remaining calm. “I’m just saying, don’t do it without a reason or without letting me know first.”

He chuckled softly, tilting his head slightly.

“Do you really think I’m interested in anything beyond what this contract requires?” He stepped forward, not breaking eye contact. “What happened at the club was just an impulse, not a sign that I’m in love with you.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes, as if analyzing every word he said.

“Great. Then it shouldn’t be hard to keep your hands and lips off me.”

Charles opened his mouth to retort but stopped when he saw the look in her eyes. It was a clear challenge, with something more hidden behind that confidence.

“Of course,” he replied, finally curving his lips into a nearly provocative smile. “But I’ve got my conditions too.”

Y/N adjusted the strap of her bag on her shoulder, unfazed.

“Alright, go ahead.”

“You have to attend my races whenever you can. And when you can’t, show support on social media. It’s the least I expect.”

She let out an incredulous laugh.

“I’m gonna be your fake girlfriend, not your number one fan.”

“As my girlfriend, you should show support. Isn’t that what girlfriends do? Plus, my fans will love it. It’ll be good for our image.”

Y/N rolled her eyes but knew he had a point.

“Fine, but I’ve got commitments too. Don’t expect me to be at every race.”

Charles shrugged, still with that annoyingly confident smile.

“It’s a start.”

Silence fell between them again, but this time it wasn’t heavy. It was as if both were evaluating the other, trying to figure out what was coming next.

Y/N adjusted her bag again and took two steps toward the door before stopping.

“One more thing, Charles.”

“What?” He raised an eyebrow, curious.

“If you want this to work, stop trying to always have the last word.”

He smiled, a mix of challenge and amusement.

“That’s asking too much.”

Y/N laughed softly, shaking her head before finally walking out of the room.

Charles stood there for a moment, staring at the door she had just walked through. There was something about her that made him feel intrigued, and he knew this story was far from simple.

Outside the building, Y/N got into the waiting car and took a deep breath. “This is going to be more complicated than I thought,” she mused as the driver started the engine.

Back inside, Charles picked up his phone and quickly sent a message to Lorenzo.

Charles: “If she thinks she can challenge me, this is going to be fun.”

On the other side, Lorenzo just laughed as he read the message.

[n0vazsq]

Pas de Deux | KR7 x Reader

pairing . . . young!kimi raikkonen x ballerina!reader

summary . . . When Kimi falls in love with a ballerina, he's invited into a dance of two (or, a pas de deux)

request . . . kind of?

word count . . . N/A

warnings . . . minimal swearing! story is set in 2024 with the current 2024 grid but kimi pics are from the 2000s!! there wont be a lot of f1 comments so you can feel free to imagine whatever team kimi is in! kimi is like in his early 20s so the reader is 20-24! lets just pretend he was born sometime between 1999 and 2003

faceclaim . . . random ballerinas from pin!

alexavia yaps . . . I LOVE PAS DE DEUX ITS MY FAV CLQSSIC SONG AHHHHHH anyway i hope you guys like thsi!!!!!! i legit dk anything about ballet so IM SO SORRY IF ANYTHING IS WRONG!!

taglist . . . @barcapix (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 741k others

ballerinayn loved dancing in monte carlo to my favourite song today! well done to all the other ballerinas and see you in a few weeks! thanks to my amazing friend maxverstappen1 for attending!

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username MOTHER IS BACK!!!!!

username i can't wait to see her performance next week my friend got me tickets omg

username WHAT?? THATS SO LUCKY OMGG

username MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER MOTHER

username why tf does she have half the f1 grid in her likes??

username shes friend with max, lando, charles, alex and pretty much every driver that lives in monaco

username doesnt kimi live in switzerland??

username yeah idk why hes in the likes

maxverstappen1 great performance y/n! you did so well!

ballerinayn tysm maxie!!

username SHES BACKKKK

username gorgeous gorgeous gorgeous omg

username we're so back

username SHES MY IDOL I GOT INTO BALLET BC OF HER

username my wife guys back off

kimiraikkonen Beautiful.

username YALLL KIMI RAIKKONENS COMMENT

username KIMIS COMMENT???

balletdemontecarlo

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, ballerina1 and 1.3M others

balletdemontecarlo could you spot the famous ballerinayn in today's pas de deux? 👀

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ballerinayn thank you for letting me perform on this amazing stage! such a great honour!

balletdemontecarlo it was our pleasure to see you perform!

yourbsf that's my best friend right there guys 🥹

ballerinayn i saw you in the crowd and almost broke character from happiness ❤

ballerina1 our swan queen 🦢

ballerinayn you did amazing out there!!

username who else cried when y/n was spun around by that guy??

username this was so emotional you guys

username SO PROUD OF MOTHERR

maxverstappen1 good job y/n!

ballerinayn aww thank you max <33

kimiraikkonen Loved the show. Come to watch a grand prix?

ballerinayn omg kimi!! im such a big fan 🥹🥹 so glad you loved the show!! and ofc ill come to a gp ❤ just contact my team with the details!

kimiraikkonen VIP tickets will be sent shortly after.

username KIMI?? I WAS NOT AWARE OF THIS RIZZ

username HELP NOT KIMI ASKING Y/N OUT IN THE COMMENT SECTION??

username i died shes so pretty

username no bc i fell to my knees watching this at home

username how to see mother y/n perform for free??

username try not to simp for y/n challenge: impossible

ballerinayn

liked by kimiraikkonen, yourbsf, f1wags and 891k others

ballerinayn thank you kimi for inviting me to the monaco grand prix!! really enjoyed it <3 and congrats on the podium! tagged: kimiraikkonen

click to view all comments

kimiraikkonen Glad you enjoyed!

ballerinayn <3

username KIMI SHOWING EMOTIONS?? THE EXCLAMATION MAKR??? THE HEART?? IM DEAD

username hear me out.... y/n x kimi

username HEARD

charlesleclerc so no congrats for me on the win?

ballerinayn SORRY CHARLIE I FORGOT

charlesleclerc betryal of the century right here

username the camera panning over to y/n every time kimi overtook im crying

username guys they have so much chemistry they must be a couple

username WHYYY HIM

username have you seen kimi???

username have you SEEN Y/N????

username MY WIFE GONE TO A MAN??

username its over for us </3

username yall delusional asl they legit could js be friends

username jS bE fRiEnDs

username f1 really ships them

username i NEED them to confirm or hard launch or ill kms

username FRRR LIKE THEY BETTER DO IT BEFORE I KILL MYSELF

kimiraikkonen

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, charlesleclerc and 2.3M others

kimiraikkonen Monaco.

click to view all comments

username these pics are WAYYY too aesthetic for kimi to have taken them

username i know this style of photography.....i see you ballerinayn

username THE FLOWERS??? WHOS THE PERSON>????

username THE PICS SCREAM Y/N YALL ARE NOT SLICKKKKKK

username idk who this guy is i just came because of mother y/n

username we need the gossip pages to track them down

f1waggossip on it 🫡

username THE WAY I SAW HIM WITH A GIRL WHILE WALKING WiTH MY MOM BUT I COULDNT SEE HER FACE ONLY THE BACK OF HER HEAD </3 BUT KIMI LOOKED SO HAPPY HE WAS SMILING AND YAPPING

username guys guys guys GUYSSSSSS charles posted a story and in the bg were kimi and y/n like talking and laughing and shi and he deleted like after 3 mins

username theyre friends??

username i hate this new couple

username DONT TORTURE JUST HARD LAUNCH

yourbsf 👀

username WHAT ARE YOU DOING HEREEEEE

username not yourbsf exposing their asses LMFAOOOOO

username man i love y/ns bsf

username "thank you yourbsf" we say in unison

username bro yall are so annoying like a girl cant even comment on her bsfs boyfriends post??

username didnt y/n and kimi kiss after his podium or did i forget to take my pills

username its the latter but i wish it was the former

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, maxverstappen1, kimiraikkonen and 822k others

ballerinayn rainy days around monaco with him>>>>>

click to view all comments

username WHOMST

username y/n pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee tell us who it is

username THE SWANS?? THE ARCHITECTURE?? THE STAR???

username reason of death: bitch ass y/n l/n and her sneaky ahh soft launches

username this is so her coded i cant

maxverstappen1 where was my invite?? lost in the mail??

ballerinayn maxie waxie axie you told me specifically "y/n if you ever invite to third wheel ill chop your arms off and use them as a table stand" so i think you didnt want to come <3

maxverstappen1 i-thats on me

ballerinayn it is it is

username oh so shes rich RICH 🤑🤑🤑 mommy y/n i need a sugar mommy 🥺

ballerinayn sorry that position is taken by pretty boy xx

username Y/N 😡

yourbsf 👀👀👀

ballerinayn what are you eye fucking

yourbsf you

yourbsf and charles

charlesleclerc ?????

username mother y/n feed us some soft launch crumbs

username QUEEN MOTHER MS SWAN Y/N COOKED THIS POST UP ONG ONG 🙏🔥

username if kimi posts like a similar typa thing theyre together

username im a f1 fan who came for the dating rumors but i mightve actually fell in love with y/n like imma full on start watching ballet for her

f1wagsss_

liked by waggossip, kimifanpage1, ynnlove82 and 391k others

f1wagsss_ f1 driver kimi raikkonen and ballerina y/n l/n reportedly seen together yesterday. do you think it really is them or is this from a fake source?

click to view all comments

username REAL REAL REAL REAL I WANT IT TO BE REAL PLS BE REAL I BEG FOR IT TO BE REAL

username ain't no way

username this must be photoshopped bc wtf how do they even know each other??

username so nice of you to intrude into people's private love lives!!

username i ❤ you for saying this

username MY GOATS ARE TOGETHER OH MY GOD

username its legit a dream come true if it is actually real

username they werent even trying to hide it oml

username WHEN WILL THEY CONFIRM

username STOP playing with usss

username i don't need any more pics i know what's going on

username i'm so delusional to think that this is real <3

(guys click on the second tweet bc its long so it doesnt show)

wags.international

liked by waggossip, f1wagsss_, teaa.f1 and 791k others

wags.international its official! f1 driver kimi raikkonen and ballerina y/n l/n were spotted on their date night in spain! will they deny or confirm their relationship? only time will tell....

click to view all comments

username why is the caption so mysterious 💀

username "confirm or deny" LMFAOOO WHAT IS IT A PASS TO ENTER A COUNTRY??

username yall hating on this gossip page harder than the others whyy 💀💀

username the caption 💀💀 and the fact that they used to hate on y/n when there were some rumors that she was dating max

username OMG OMG OMG MY PARENTS

username KIMIYN MY NO.1 SHIPPP AHHHHHH

username mY GATS

username PIERRE AND YOUR/BSF/NAME IN THE LIKES???? HELP ME

username the switch up is INSANEEE

username can you explain why they used to hate on y/n?

username they called her some words like $lut and wh0re and they also called her a fame and gold digger even though shes literally famous and already rich. they also posted some weird pics of her from when she was younger and basically they got a lot of hate for it.

username so the hate is deserved?

username VERY deserved

username i see a repeat of 2022 i am going to rage so hard that i become a lawyer and sue them

username the history with gossip page is INSANEEEE

kimiraikkonen

liked by ballerinayn, yourbsf, maxverstappen1 and 3.4M others

kimiraikkonen The girlfriend. Rakastan sinua yli kaiken, kulta ❤ (I love you more than anything, darling) tagged: ballerinayn

click to view all comments

username LMFAOOOO THE CAPTION IS SO KIMI CODED

username SOFT KIMI SOFT KIMI SOFT KIMI I AM SHAKING

ballerinayn love you too <33 mwah mwah

kimiraikkonen 🥰

maxverstappen only y/n can do that to the iceman

ballerinayn what can i say i am a woman of many abilities

maxverstappen1 ew thats disguisting i didnt need to know that

charlesleclerc she meant NORMAL abilities you dirty thinking slug

ballerinayn lestappen forever this comment has been deleted

maxverstappen1 Y/N?!?!??!?! I SAW THAT

ballerinayn mb?

yourbsf take care of my best friend yeah?

kimiraikkonen I'd rather die than not do so.

ballerinayn IM CRYING I LOVE YOU BOTH SO SO SO MUCH

kimiraikkonen Honey please don't cry.

ballerinayn KIMI OMGGG SHHSHSHSHSHHS

username y/n having a meltdown over kimi like girl me too

username this is the best love story in the history of love stories

username im calling it theyre romeo and juliet

yourbsf

liked by ballerinayn, kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 1.7k others

yourbsf my best friend and her love sick boyfriendtagged: ballerinayn, kimiraikkonen

click to view all comments

yourfriend1 HELP not y/n getting a professienal pic and kimi's being whatever

yourbsf y/n would pose for me for hours and kimi literally ignores me until y/n tells him to notice me. he also rarely smiles around me i had to capture the moment quickly

yourfriend1 explains the shaky picture

username we need more kimiyn content from your/bsf/name

username this is so goals what

ballerinayn wow i look so good and kimi looks so pretty omg

yourbsf ofc you do youre not mother y/n for no reason

maxverstappen1 can you send that pic of kimi?

kimiraikkonen Max.

maxverstappen1 nevermind

maxverstappen1 WHY DOESNT yourbsf GET A DEATH GLARE AND I DO??

ballerinayn sorry max i love her and kimi loves who i love xoxo

maxverstappen1 are you saying you dont love me?

ballerinayn oops sorry?

maxverstappen1 you better be sorry

yourbsf now now kids settle down

username chaos is literally yourbsf's comment section

username parasocial relationship

ballerinayn

liked by yourbsf, kimiraikkonen, maxverstappen1 and 581k others

yourbsf words could never describe how much I love you. you light up my life in a way nothing else can. every moment with you feels like home, mon ange. forever wouldn’t be enough to express what you mean to me, pretty boy. ❤️ tagged: kimiraikkonen

comments on this post have been limited

maxverstappen1 love you guys even tho i hate third wheeling

ballerinayn thanks maxie <3

charlesleclerc you two are very cute

ballerinayn so are you and alex!!

yourbsf as much as i hated you being taken away from me by a guy, kimi was the right one. i approve of him <3

ballerinayn ilysm <333

ballerina1 if he can do ballet invite for a pas de deux 👀

ballerinayn oh trust me i already taught him everything

kimiraikkonen And nothing ever will ever desrcibe by love for you

ballerinayn i love you so much

kimiraikkonen I love you more. Even more than my drink

ballerinayn <33

kimiraikkonen You're the love of my life, never forget that.

[quadradaz]

So set the way back machine to 1989. I am a junior in high school and got roped into being an extra in the school production of The Sound of Music by my girlfriend. This quickie expanded into me doing about three or four different roles in the play. Fast forward a few weeks to actual performances and I find out about the tradition of the cast and crew going to see RHPS after the Saturday performance. I tell my folks about it and after our show wraps up we all caravan to where the midnight showing is at. We all get there to find out that most of the Rocky cast hasn't shown up and they are thinking about cancelling the show that night. Well you can guess what happened, our group volunteers to fill in for the missing cast members except for one. No one fits the right profile for Rocky, well there is one person but he's never seen the movie and has no idea of what to do. He is quickly assured that he can be coached so he agrees to do it. The show goes on and people say that the Rocky performer was great because he made everyone believe that everything was brand new to him. He is asked if he would be willing to do this on a weekly basis but he states he does not have reliable transportation. They tell him that if that changes to let them know.

And that is how I ended up performing as Rocky the very first time I ever saw it.

Have I ever told the story here about how I accidentally saw Rocky Horror Picture Show for the first time while knowing absolutely nothing about the movie at all at 8:10 AM in a literal room filled with theater students who absolutely DID know about it.

[petalsonmoon]

breathe in, breathe through, breathe deep, breathe out.

you're falling in love.

(i'd just like to say that in this scenario i imagined UA as an university so they're a bit older... thank you for reading <3)

you had no one to blame but yourself. you read too much and you never know when to stop. but really, how can you go to sleep when the found family are about to perform the heist?

so when school was back things got complicated. your brain had its own routine by now so when you were laying in bed and the moonlight was trying to get in through the curtains it felt like you just drank 3 bottles of coffee.

your celling was making your mind combust this is why you got up and decided to take a little walk. you left your dorm and went for the stairs, feet light as the moonlight touching the walls. maybe you should buy a sleeping mask. or try meditation. new year new habits.

when you arrived at the communal space you were trying not to let the frustation win the fight against your empathetic consciousness. one side of your head was screaming that the begining of a school year should be centered, organized and fierced and an insomnia on your first day is not a great start. the other part was giving you a gentle pat on your head saying that life doesn't end when you graduate and you just have to take one day at a time.

you find yourself walking very slowly towards the kitchen and sitting on your usual stool. the third one from right to left. the whole place was beautifully iluminated by the moon. isn't sad that the moonlight is actually an reflection of the light that hits them? must be isolating.

there was a mini jar on the counter filled with m&m's. you slided it close to you and started to eat the yellow ones.

it was 5:28am acording to the microwave. m&m's were a great breakfast.

but the moon itself was pretty once iluminated by the others.... so it must feel pretty, right? seen? especially if it knows us, humans are captivated by its brutal and elegant greyness,

"the fuck is this?"

you jump. like cartoon jump.

and he didn't even scream he merely whipered. a rasp and crude whisper but a hushed tone nonetheless.

"holy jesus bakugo-" you whisper back with your hand on your chest trying calm it.

"what are you doing?" his interrupition as strong as he is.

"you scared the shit out of me." you complete. sort of ignoring his question.

he stayed still a few feet away burning you with his red eyes. his natural rage and powerful aura filling up the space.

"morning." you say. not in a good mood to smile but with enough chocolate in your system to sound gentle.

his eyes were on you for 5 seconds (5 minutes in your head) before he growled and moved, walking around the counter, turning one single light of the relatively big kitchen and started to get everything to prepare his healthy breakfast.

since first year, bakugo grew gracefully for those who noticed. although he changed he'd still murder you with an m&m if you said that out loud. you're definitely not that close to the boy but you were one of those who got enchanted by a determination so big and fierce someone could get blinded by it.

just like you were constantly astonished by momo's bright and calculated mind or todoroki's immense gentleness after a life that lacked warmness, you spent those 3 years seeing bakugo as an inspiration.

although his whole group of friends had a confidence you wished you had. they intimidated you. hagakure says it's you being stupid.

you watch as the boy moves fast and domestically calm through the gabinets, knowing exactly what he needs and wants.

with his large back facing you he started chopping and boiling and cooking. all the yellow m&m's had ended by the time one of you said a word.

"why are you up?"

raspy and soft. but you were not expecting him acknowledging you at all.

"hm..." your eyes focused on his back. "insomnia. vacation consequences."

you hear a distant grunt.

"so you came here to eat chocolate?" he kept preparing his dish in an annoyingly organized way.

"well, if my body is not feeling like being healthy might as well join his thinking."

"great thinking." he concludes and it's not even lacying with sarcasm. just full judgement.

it takes a few seconds for you to toughen up and keep talking.

"any tips?"

with that he turns and looks at you for a few seconds. you hold his gaze.

he only answers when he's back at glaring at the vegetables. "just fucking sleep."

it's so blunt it cracks a chuckle out of you. you betray yourself and take a single red m&m to your mouth.

"you ever slept in?"

"no." he rumbles.

"not even like, 5 minutes?"

"no."

"that's crazy..." you whisper to yourself.

"that's discipline." he defends not whispering back.

"yes, it absolutely is." you sounded silly but that was not the intention. "once me and tokoyami tried to make a schedule and wake up at 5 to train together"

it was fun trying to be healthy doing team work. you remember him telling you that dark shadow was also excited to practice outdoors since it was going to be dark still the time you agreed. "we only did it for a week."

you see him shake his head and murmur something you took 3 seconds to decode. "more than what i was expecting"

"okay!" you protest softly. "not all of us wants to be the best there is"

"and that means i can't judge you for being stupid?"

he blunts it out. as you said, bakugo was stil an angry, angry person but with patience and respect on the edges now. if you look closely.

"and some of us are not that competitive... like, really not. ever played uno with me?"

you hear him taking a deep breath. you don't know if that's an "yes" a "no" or a "i dare you to keep talking"

so you keep talking. "and i tried, doesn't that count?"

"it doesn't if you don't even do the bare damn minimum" his voice still raspy and very dure but the sleepiness not there anymore "not sleeping fries your brain." he resolutes.

"but this brain is also the reason i have anxiety so i'm just paying it back."

he finally turns to you with those immaculate sharp red eyes and points at you with the knife he was holding. "stupid."

"no, fairness." you smile and point a red m&m at him.

you held his gaze until he turned again. but then he finished part of whatever he was doing and drops the knife, washes his hands and turns to you again.

now you're getting goosebumps because he's walking towards you.

"you should've given me tips to sleep if you didn't want me annoying you at 5 in the morning" you defend yourself of something. you're really grateful for the courage the dawn gives people.

"is this gonna be a recurring thing?" he whisper. he stops in front of you, a counter between you both.

"don't know. it might be."

your hand was going to another red m&m when he stopped it. "stop eating this shit."

"then do you mind giving me cooking tips as well?"

his eyebrows furrows and he takes another deep breath letting go of your wrist. the counter was not that big. he was too close. "just focus on your breathing and it'll help you relax. even if you're not sleepy breathing techniques do help."

oh!

he did try to help you and that was sweet and you couldn't help but smile. "thank you."

he quickly turned around and went back to the stove grunting in response "don't need you yapping my ears off at the one time i have peace in this place."

with that you got up from the stool and went to your dorm feeling lightheaded.

── ☆ ──

after that there was no reason not to take deep breaths and count before sleeping. of course the problem was not fixed but it actually helped! there was some nights where your brain could not for his own health turn off the lights and it took you couting till 50 to relax but overall. you were sleeping at least 6 hours straight so a win is a win.

your relationship with bakugo evolved from not talking at all to you saying hi to him and him grunting in return. the universe decided to be kind to you by pairing you two a few times to spare during some of aizawa's classes and it was so unhealthy how you felt happy and annoyingly you with him.

so some nights you did had to trick yourself into not think about bakugo. to not think about how domestically warm and confortable it would be to cook with the boy if you were a little bit more than friends.

and then you blink three times remembering you were at best his colleague and you shouldn't be thinking this just because of an exchange of 30 minutes and a few swift but blazing conversations.

but it's a reasonable crush if we analyze the bigger picture.

you're not one with much confidence, and even though you're not one with many romantic experience too it's an understandable situation having a bloom of emotions when you finally have nice exchanges with the person you admire the most in class.

right?

four weeks later, saturday happened.

you've been doing good in training and even your studing sessons were making you proud so you decided to give yourself a deserving movie night.

things were great when you watched a movie and then another one but you decided you wanted a sweet popcorn to accompany you with the third one. and that went terribly wrong.

which is where you are now, looking at whatever annomaly you were swiping in the frying pan.

"of course you're involved with that god awful smell." he grunts from a few meters behind you and you're not sure how you didn't hit his head with how far you jolted.

"fucking hell bakugo!" you turn to him and it's noticible he’s trying to hold the little smirk in the corner of his mouth. don’t look that way. "how does an angry bird like you have such a light feet?"

"by not wanting to wake the losers" he concludes coming closer to you to discover what was happening at the crime scene.

oh! he smells good.

at 5am? criminal. cinnamon but with a touch of sandalwood. you truly wanted him to give you a prolonged hug.

"you are a fucking dimwit." he grimaced.

"i'm not great with new recipes!" you didn't have a single argument this time.

"ruin popcorn it's a new level." he walked towards the trash and opened. it's kind of a superpower that his expression alone could criticize so many aspects of a person.

you defeatedly walked to him with the pan in hands and threw its content in the trash.

"hopeless." he whispered as he took the object from you and walked to the sink.

you pout and make way to sit in your stool by the counter.

"i make a neat rice." you whisper back.

he immeditaly let out a chuckle. "i bet."

why were you still here was a question you'd burned with the imaginary popcorn. so it took you while to say anything,

"i remember in second year," really nice of them to keep replacing the m&m's in the jar. it was a good distraction look for the yellow ones. "when we were celebrating jiro's birthday and everybody was outside, i was going back inside to refil my water cup when i heard kaminari's voice desperately apologizing-"

a loud noice startled you. it sounded like a pot hitting the sink. you're not to make assumptions but it felt like he knew where you were going.

so you kept talking. "and suddendly you barked at him to shup up-"

"i didn't fucking bark-" he interrupted snarling. oh he was so sweet.

"-turns out he accidentally ruined a small part of her cake and you fixed it in record time. and didn't even eat it. i'm quite sure you went to bed after the happy birthday" you interrupted his interruption.

it was a quiet night so by the sounds you could identify that he started to do whatever he was doing a bit more angryly.

"cakes are stupid." he rumbles.

"they are important on birthdays."

"fucking dunce face can't keep his mouth shut-" him angrily replying with his back to you was a bit comical.

"in his defense" in the counter, you make a heart with the yellow m&m's you haven't eaten yet. "i traded this information giving him my piece of the cake that day."

you glace up and he was still treating the food with rage. "because surprisingly i'm not a big fan of cakes."

"weird coming from someone with the most crappy eating habits."

"i know, right?" you answer and he doesn’t respond. you fill the little heart with the red m&m's.

you take a deep breath.

"it was nice of you" you look up. "the number one spot is in safe hands."

he stilled. for about 7 seconds.

then he started to move again. calmly. you start to eat the yellow m&m's and after a while of him preparing his perfect little breakfast he speaks again.

"you being a sting in my ass since last year and telling me proudly." he says, his voice a bit more deep and cemented.

"yes, i like to think i'm a nice little bee." you admit.

"HA!" his rough laugh invaded the room.

"they're pretty and united and very important-"

"will you include the part they make honey and you can"t cook for shit?"

"it's a team work!" you defend. "don't you think that when a bee has problems with her honey, another one doesn't come to help?"

now you try to hold your laughter from your own statement.

"that's just pathetic." he answers.

"you're just not a bee." you resolve. you start to eat the red m&m's left. "you're more like a lone wasp. they're big and quite prett-"

your discourse is interrupted when a small bowl is strongly put in front of you spreading the red dots.

"hey!" you're about to protest when its contents finally loads in your brain.

it's popcorn.

with chocolate.

you feel the little bees in your stomach make a mess. a pure and chaotically comforting emotion fill your heart and there is no going back now. how can a furious boy make you breathe so peacefully?

when you finally come back to the moment and look up he immediately turns around and goes back to the stove.

"bakugo-"

"no." his tone heavy and definitive.

you take a deep breath and try to relax. not fighting the small smile in your face anymore.

"bakugo." your tone soft but as decisive as his.

he fights for a second but turns to you with a locked jaw. his eyes the sharpest you've ever seen, giving you nothing to unravel before going to sleep.

"thank you." and with that you leave the kitchen.

── ☆ ──

the following week you felt like suffocating but also very fucking joyful.

nothing prominent changes in your rotine. you're still dedicated to have a good sleeping pattern and things with you and bakugo haven't changed. and you weren't expecting them to.

but you needed saturday to come.

you were going to be there on purpose this time. and you were fiercily holding the ballon of insecurities screaming that you were too in clouds of your emotions to not think your decision carefully.

so it's 5:37 when you're getting closer to the kitchen, the familiar hiss and chopping of the food capturing the place making you shiver for some reason.

a well known reason but whatever.

you gently pull your usual stool to sit on it and your eyes lock to his figure, who froze for a millisecond when you made the sound.

your hand automatically made way to the mini jar that lived in the counter only to find nothing there.

you whip around to glare at him.

"who did you threatened to blow to get my m&m's removed?"

he took his time finishing whatever he was doing and turned to you very slowly. to have his attention on you once again sent intense shivers all over your body.

"why am i involved?" he soflty replies and you think you like his voice a little too much.

"you're always involved."

"always?"

"yep." you nod.

he leans his body back on the sink putting his hands on his pockets. boy, it's really fucking unffair to be heavenly beautiful like this.

you pout. "i just want my yellow m&m's back."

and then. and then

he measures your face before taking his right hand out of his pocked, setting a yellow m&m on his tongue and closing his mouth.

"come get it." he replies nonchantly.

your body suddenly feels solid and your blood it's cathing on fire. there is no way this scene wasn’t a creation of your most desired dream that was buried deep in your consciousness.

"well?" he arches one eyebrow and you blink. twice.

you decide in a millisecond to fight fire with fire. you're not a confident person but you could pretend to be.

you get off the stool and walk around the counter, only to sit on it placing yourself not far from him. you feel his eyes piercing you until yours met his.

"someone told me once i don’t even do the bare minimum…" you motioned to the empty space where the jar used to be “why would i go there if it can come to me?”

you hold his gaze while he took four steps to arrive and place himself between your legs.

he’s fixated on your mouth while you decide your favorite color is the color of his hair.

his slight smirk felt like an illusion when he breathes in your mouth “you little minx.”

then his mouth was against yours.

his hand found the back of your head making he deepen the kiss deliciously firme. a kiss as intense and imposing and skilled as the boy.

your hands made their way to his hair and it felt like a fervent dream when his own hands were now behind your thighs pulling you illogically close to him. his tongue ardent against yours making your whole body melt in his and when you scrap where his hair meets his neck his throat makes a guttural noise. you wanted to overflow in him.

when you pulled apart you’re a bit dizzy.

“you taste like chocolate.” you blur out.

placing his hands on your jaw he touches featherly your mouth with his tumb.

“why don’t you let me find out what you taste like, brat?”

[theealbatross]

Headcannon: Sebastian takes care of people

Tags: fluff, kinda low self esteem, kinda unhealthy codependency, short read had to get it out of my head

He takes care of strangers

Like silly little first years lost in the moving stairs, albeit with a frown and a sharp lecture about the dangers of walking around the castle and being too prideful to carry a map when they could barely locate their dorm rooms, firmly putting a quick end to older students' teasing when their jokes cross a line, and even ending up as the reluctant volunteer tutor (live training dummy) for Defense Against the Dark Arts after Professor Hecat assigned him the role to complete his detention.

This, in turn, makes him surprisingly popular with the kids to his bewilderment as they gravitate toward their grumpy but reliable senior.

"Have a good day, Sebastian!"

Both of you frown in confusion at the gaggle of cheerful first-year Hufflepuffs who eagerly greet him as you pass the halls. One even waved at him before they turned into a corner.

"What was that?"

He shrugs. "Hell if I know."

He takes care of his friends

"Amitt! Watch out!"

The Ravenclaw could barely turn to the familiar booming voice before he was shoved to the ground.

"Hey! You aren't allowed in the field!"

"Are you alright, Amitt?" He realizes the concerned voice of his friend, Sebastian, brought him out of his stupor. And in his hand is the bludger that nearly had an intimate interaction with the back of his head.

"Oh! Sebastian! Many thanks! I didn't know Slytherin practices ran this late. I was on my way to the top of the bleachers -- the best views of the summer night sky, I tell you."

"Thakkar, you don't have permission to be here!"

Sebastian rolls his eyes, feeling Amitt's anxiety rising as Slytherin quidditch players land one after another, looming over him. "Back off, all of you. He nearly got hurt. I'll handle it."

"But --"

"My apologies everyone! I truly meant no harm --"

"The captain's right, Sallow. Who knows if those Ravenclaws are using this nerd over here to spy on us --"

"I said back off, Thorncrest," Sebastian turned his back on Amitt to face all of his teammates, daring any of them to take another step. "The next time you ignore my orders, I'll stop using words since they can't seem to penetrate through your skull. So you either learn to play nice or I won't let it pass that it was because of your subpar performance that a bludger almost hit my friend."

Sebastian and the other Slytherin student glared at each other until Imelda smacked Thorncrest's head, cutting through the tension. "Listen to your Vice-Captain," he turns to Sebastian with a nod. "I'll take care of him, you get Thakkar out of here."

Sebastian nodded back at Imelda, ensuring everyone was back in the skies before turning to a guilty-looking Amitt.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I did not think I would cause such a disturbance."

Sebastian just waved him off with a friendly chuckle and a comforting hand on his shoulder. Amitt can't believe his fellow Ravenclaws don't believe him when he tells them Sebastian is a warm person, laughing to his face was just quite rude. To be fair, they could barely believe they were friends at all. "Don't worry about it, athletes are assholes during Quidditch season."

He looked sheepish, "Can I still go up the bleachers?"

Despite his subdued character, Sebastian can see that Amitt has all the determination in the world when it comes to achieving the things that interest him the most. Maybe that's why he liked the Ravenclaw boy so much. "Yeah, go ahead, Amitt. Just don't let any prefect see you."

"Ah! Thank you, my friend! I shall be as quiet as a mouse!"

Sebastian waved as Amitt haphazardly said his goodbyes.

"If anybody bothers you tell them to talk to me!"

He takes care of Ominis

Despite his great interest in the dark arts and his pure-blooded status, Sebastian will take any and every opportunity to fight Ominis' family. He hates them simply because they hurt his friend, which is unforgivable in his eyes. He had every opportunity to get in their good graces but he blew all of that to pieces when he got in a crude fight with the eldest son of the Gaunts the moment he called Ominis a 'useless cripple'.

From then on, Sebastian has been banned from the Gaunt's estate indefinitely.

"Yeah, they better fucking ban me or I'll burn that haunted house to the ground and lock that prick inside of it."

Despite himself and his pacifistic tendencies, Ominis couldn't but scoff out a laugh while Sebastian nursed a bloody lip, glaring at the gates of the manor as it closed on them. "You didn't need to do that."

"I don't think I did enough," he sneers, blood boiling at the fact that Ominis seemed used to their cruel words. Not wanting to fester on their cruel treatment, he throws his hands across Ominis' shoulders. "Who the hell wants to spend Christmas there anyway? Feldcroft is way more cozy."

Ominis smiled, patting Sebastian's back, the closest 'thank you' he could show now that he knew he had found a true friend. "You're right," He thinks of Anne, Solomon's bland stew, and the blinking lights of the Sallow home.

"Are you alright?" And Sebastian -- kind, true, painfully loyal. His first friend.

Ominis nods.

"Let's go home."

He takes care of his family.

Even though Anne no longer communicates with him after 'the incident' Sebastian still religiously sends letters to Beauxbatons Academy along with whatever trinkets he finds that remind him of her. And even though he detested Solomon and barely felt bad about his death, he still made a point to clean his grave, knowing the old man didn't like it when things were messy, and even emptied his favorite whiskey on his birthday.

"Seb?"

He blinks as you slip your hands into his. He squeezes it, letting the heat on your skin ground him as the two of you stare at the gravestone. Just as remorseful guilt creeps into your heart, he cuts it off. "I don't regret it, you know," he mutters firmly. "He almost ... he was hurting Anne. He was going to hurt you."

You nod, leaning your forehead on his shoulders, trying to comfort him through his quiet struggles knowing words or pieces of advice won't help.

"But I know he did his best. It wasn't enough but it was his best," he empties the other half of the whiskey on the grave, and his grip on you tightens. "I owe him this much."

He takes care of you.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Sebastian flinches awake at the recent memory, his breath shaky as he looks around the dim light of the Room of Requirement.

He did what he had to do, he knows this. Solomon has been eaten up by his own anger, if he didn't stop him ... Merlin knows what would've happened.

If the three of you had gotten out of that fight alive, with your participation in his insipid plans, it wasn't unlikely that Solomon would ship you off to Azkaban with him. That can't happen, he dragged you into that hellhole, he had to get you out of there unscathed.

No matter how high the cost.

"S-Sebastian?"

He sits up from the couch, surprised to see you awake on the open door that leads to your personalized bedroom. The two of you had holed up in your safe haven after the events of the night but it would seem rest evaded the two of you.

"I can't ..." you sigh shakily, biting your lips. "I can't sleep. I'm scared."

As if your fear had overpowered his own, he swiftly set aside the last traces of his fear and guilt, extending his hands, which you eagerly took. Sebastian pulls you in his lap, preceding any thought of impropriety as he curls himself around you, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck while he covers the two of you in your blanket.

"It's all going to be all right," he promises, pressing his lips on the crown of your hair. "I won't let anything happen to you."

And takes care of you.

"Hey, Sebastian is waiting for you in the common room."

"Sallow said he'll pick you up after class."

"She's not coming, Sebastian's got her."

"Your hound is here."

You turned with a frown from Imelda to what she was staring at with a mischievous grin and by the door stood Sebastian, smiling when your eyes met.

"I --"

"-- have to go," Imelda playfully rolled her eyes. You gave her a smile as you gathered your books.

"Same time next week?"

"Maybe let's hide somewhere your hound can't sniff you up?"

"Get your own witch, Reyes," a deep voice from behind proved her point. Sebastian grabbed your book and satchel from your hands, hooking it on one arm, and the other gently offered his free hand to yours. "This one's mine."

And wants to take care of you forever.

"You should marry me."

Your next step faltered as you turned to Sebastian on the shore of the Black Lake, the setting sun illuminating his face and the vulnerability and determination written across it.

"W-What?"

"I've thought about it," he swallows, walking closer until he is right in front of you, the cold shallow water above your ankles a welcome reprieve from your burning body at such an announcement. "I've thought about letting you go, letting you find someone better than me. "

"Sebastian --"

"But I figured that I'm a selfish man. I always have been. And I want you more than anything else," you shudder at his fervor. "I love you more than anything else in this world."

Gently, as he always does, he took your hand, placing it on his warm cheek. "I can't offer much, I know, but I ... I will make you the sun my world will revolve on."

He presses a kiss at your palm, a warm tear falls from your eyes.

"Marry me," he begs. "Let me be the one to make you happy."

[in1-nutshell]

Hello and is it okay to request TF with this idea?

Fem Buddy as a cybertronian (or Terran) and has a twin bot. They've been raised on earth and by humans, since they were babies and They don't know anything about Cybertron, they still loves/cares Earth and anything on it

They're famous or celebrity twins on earth. (like being genius, performer, artist, model, YouTuber, actor, or others, you choose). They do love it, the fame, the happy faces that humans get when seeing them, but They sometimes wondered where they came from.

Fem Buddy and Male! Twin are both inseparable, caring for each other, they sometimes speak/act in unison, having same and/or sharing thoughts, and had great teamwork/synchronization, and yet had teasings/sassiness in a mild way

Yet Fem Buddy and Twin have differences

Fem Bot looks like a Decepticon, has an reclusive yet timid and good-hearted, yet sometimes expressive with closed lip, also being supportive (and somewhat child-like or oblivious/innocent) twin.

M! Twin, he looks similar to an Autobot, known for being a leading/leader twin, having energetic, bold, and pompous yet somewhat mature, or something like spoiled prince yet mature and has smart personality, often showing his sharp teeth, whether he's smiling, frowning, etc., also being very protective/ aggressive for his twin.

You can add this idea if you want:

Autobots' human friend/kid(s) have been a fan of the twins (and probably had a celebrity crush/es on them), before the cybertronian thing, and they introduce the Autobots to these Celebrity twins via media of sort?

I apologize if this is complicated or I've been requested a lot. Thank you so much and also take care of yourself.

(also Happy Decepticon Day!)

Finally! I got to this one before it got erased! Again!

Hope you enjoy!

Bot Buddy Twin's who live on Earth

SFW, Platonic, Familial, Cybertronian reader

TFA

The name Issac Sumdac was one well known throughout the city of Detroit.

It was also a little-known fact of his daughter, Sari Sumdac, who was almost always accompanied by two of his most astounding looking robots.

A tall one and a small one.

Affectionally given the names Sonia and Syrus.

Sonia was the larger bot that was often seen walking the grounds of the Tower, presumably as a guard bot.

It seemed like the bot fit the job having such a large, and sharp framework.

Perfect for intimidating any trespassers.

As intimidating as the bot looked, Sonia’s family knew that she was a shy bot who just so happened to look like she could end someone with her pinkie.

A couple of tourist are looking at the big bot from a distance. Tourist 1: “Do you think it can think?” Tourist: “No way, its just a machine.” Tourist 1: “But if it could…” Tourist 2: “Probably thinking on how to annihilate human kind. I mean have you seen the size of those fists!” Meanwhile with Sonia… Sonia: “I think I’ll go visit the red birds nest before lunch time.”

Around her family, Sonia was a bit of a pushover for her younger siblings.

She couldn’t help it!

They had a mastery of the puppy dog eyes she had yet to conquer.

But make no mistake, if there is even the notice of a threat to Sonia’s family, she is making sure to get them to safety before dealing with the situation.

Sari loves hanging around Sonia’s shoulder and loves doing random trust falls with her.

The Professor has lost count of the number of times he has had to buff out dents in his eldest daughter’s frame.

Sonia loves her younger sister to death but she needs to stop giving her near death experiences.

Sonia is with the Professor watching Syrus playing with Sari play. Professor Sumdac: “You know you could always join them, Sonia.” Sonia looks at him. Sonia: “But what if I hurt them? I’m too sharp and big” Professor Sumdac: “It would be on accident. We both know you would never actively harm them.” Sonia still looks a bit conflicted but ends up joining the pair in ‘Mega trust fall’. Professor Sumdac winces a bit as both Syrus and Sari fall from a ledge and Sonia cushions their fall. Professor Sumdac: “Maybe I should have talked to them about taking it easier on their sister…”

Syrus was the smaller bot.

Often seen giving some tours around the Tower for guests and tourists.

His energetic and charismatic personality fit well for the tours.

He is the closest with Sari.

Don’t get him wrong, he loves Sonia, but his baby sister is way more fun to hang out than Sonia the worry wart.

Both love playing around the Tower’s private grounds, letting their imagination run wild.

On the occasion they do decide to make the day an adventure, they both know that if things get too hairy, Sonia was always one call away.

No one in their right mind would DARE mess with them when Sonia was in her protective mode.

Sonia is just minding her business when she gets a call. Sonia: “Syrus? What—” Syrus: “Can you come get us? We might have gotten in a bit of trouble…” Sonia is already tracking down Syrus location. Sonia: “What happened? Are you and Sari okay?” Syrus: “Well… we might be hiding from Fanzone’s new rookie cop.” Sonia: “And why?” Syrus: “To be fair, he started calling Sari a brat… and we might have put a virus on his phone… and currently hiding in the park.” Sonia: “… Give me 5 minutes.” Syrus: “Yes!” Sonia: “But you two are explaining to Dad why your in this mess.” Syrus: “…Hey big sis—” Sonia: “Don’t even think about it.”

That being said, Syrus is almost, if not more protective of his family than Sonia is.

While Sonia can handle certain things being thrown at them, she has a hard time standing up for herself.

That’s where Syrus usually comes in and stands up for her.

Syrus has no problem chewing out anyone who goes after her.

Both robotic siblings are ready to choose violence if someone decides to go after their squishier family members.

The topic of the bots creation has been a hot topic for years, mainly kept up by Syrus constantly pestering Professor Sumdac about it.

Sonia stopped asking a long time ago, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t think about it from time to time.

Especially looking at other, less emotional robots.

She is simply content with her life keeping her father and siblings safe.

Now, to the day the Autobots wake up…

Sonia was away on a nearby island trying to help Sari with her project on bird nesting sites.

Syrus is beside Sari’s side the entire time the Autobots are going around.

Absolutely blown away when the bots reveal that he is a Cybertornian like them.

Even gets a vehicle mode from them!

Every single one of the Sumdac’s remember at the last second that they had forgotten to mention the whole incident to Sonia.

The Professor swears he can hear Sonia’s ‘blood pressure rise in less than a couple seconds when he talks to her over the phone.

Syrus and Sari are in charge of telling the bots about their older sister.

Sari: “You guys are gonna love Sonia!” Optimus: “Sonia?” Syrus: “That’s our big sister.” Bumblebee: “Like human or bot?” Syrus: “Bot—Sari! She is going to flip when she finds out she’s an alien too!” Sari: “I bet she’s gonna watch all those alien movies with us now!” Ratchet turns Prowl. Ratchet: “I swear if this ‘Sonia’ is like Syrus…” They both share a look of slight dread. BOOM! The ground starts to tremble a bit. Bulkhead: “What is that!?” Bumblebee: “You think it could be the Decepticons?” Sonia appears at the front door venting heavy with panic in her optics. All the Autobots are ready to attack when Syrus and Sari run to the bot. Bumblebee: “Sari! Syrus!” Both jump up as the larger bot kneels and holds them both to her chassis. Sonia: “Your okay! Wait are you?” Sonia looks at both of them from head to toe trying to see any signs of harm. The bots are just stunned. Syrus: “We’re fine Sonia, but guess what! We’re aliens! Just like the Autobots!” Sonia finally looks up at the bots and looks just as surprised as Syrus had when he first met them. She shyly goes over and takes her servo out. Sonia: “Its nice to meet you all. I take it you helped keep Syrus and Sari safe?” Optimus blinked a bit before slowly shaking her servo. To his surprise, she was very gently in handling it. Optimus: “Yes, and you are Sonia?” Sonia smiles a bit while placing both her sibling on her shoulders. Syrus stops her. Syrus: “Wait! Sonia look what we can do!” He proceeds to transform into a car and drives a bit around the Plant. Sonia: “Wait we can do that!”

[verstappenf1lecccc]

heyooo could you write a long one shot where Fernando is readers mentor when he “retires” teaches her everything she needs to know.: however then he returns to F1 and can’t mentor her anymore is instead a rival but pushes her off the track accidentally he thought it was ocon.. and he retires the car .. because along the way he’s fallen in love with her… again lots of angst and fluff I’m down for it ahah

comments are always appreciated:)

Red Flags and Green Lights

When Fernando retired he himself thought that it was the end of his career especially towards Motorsport. His last season was gruesome and frankly disappointing. McLaren had let him down big time it was almost as if each race was a joke. Poor strategy Poor performance Poor car.

At the end of the season Fernando knew he couldn’t take it much longer and had decided to draw the curtains up towards his impressive career.

To get away from the cameras and the journalist Fernando had decided to seek refuge in a small Spanish town just off the cost. The salty Spanish air made the Spaniard thrive. He had no intention of ever going back to anything related to Motorsport.

Beginnings

The first time Fernando Alonso had seen you on track, he had raised an eyebrow. It wasn’t the usual dismissive look he gave young drivers—those hungry, wide-eyed rookies trying to make a name for themselves. No, you weren’t like them. You were different.

You had come from the junior ranks, a rising star in a new generation of drivers, but there was something about you that intrigued him. Your precision, your ability to adapt to a car almost too quickly. But it wasn’t just that. It was the way you handled yourself off the track—there was a steeliness to you, a quiet confidence that made him think: This one, she’s got it.

Fernando had never been a particularly warm person, but he’d learned the hard way that talent alone wasn’t enough to succeed in Formula 1. Mentorship—that was the missing ingredient. He’d had great mentors, but his relationship with them had been less than ideal. He was determined to be better. To be the mentor that you didn’t know you needed.

And so, he took you under his wing. At first, it wasn’t obvious what he was doing. He wasn’t the type to sit down and give long speeches about racing. Instead, it was in the small moments, the subtle lessons.

“Don’t overdrive the car,” Fernando would say, tossing you a casual glance during a debrief. “The car doesn’t care about your ego. It’s about balance.”

At first, you’d bristled at his bluntness. But as you spent more time together, you realized he wasn’t being harsh—he was just pushing you in the only way he knew how. And you respected that. In a world of flashy trainers and corporate personas, Fernando was real. He demanded nothing less than your best.

But there were softer moments, too. When he’d see you frustrated, or exhausted after a long race weekend, he’d quietly hand you a bottle of water with a knowing smile. “You’re getting better,” he’d say. "But don’t burn yourself out. It’s a marathon, not a sprint."

Sometimes, after a race, when you’d sit on the pit wall, Fernando would join you. The two of you, silent, watching the crowd disperse, the paddock buzzing around you. He’d stare into the distance, and you could see the weight of his years in the sport, the regret, the battles won and lost.

“You’ll be in my shoes one day,” he’d say, almost absentmindedly. “Just... don’t make the same mistakes I did.”

You’d always chuckle. "I'll try not to." But deep down, you knew exactly what he meant.

You were learning not just the technical side of racing, but the psychology of it—the mental toughness that could make or break a driver. How to handle pressure. How to handle failure. Fernando was a master of that.

The Return

It had been a year since Fernando had “retired.” You were now racing for a mid-tier team, working your way up. You had started to gain attention, but it wasn’t easy. Racing was still a brutal sport, and no one cared how much potential you had if you didn’t win.

It was late in the season when the rumors first started. Fernando was coming back. You tried to ignore it, but it was everywhere. You told yourself it was just gossip. He’d never actually return.

Then, one afternoon, you were sitting in the debrief room, eyes glued to the telemetry, when your phone buzzed. It was a message from your PR manager: "Fernando's back. Announced this morning."

The room around you seemed to close in. It hit you harder than you thought it would. Fernando Alonso, your mentor, your friend, your rival. You had always admired his fiery passion for racing, but this—this felt different. He was coming back *to take your spot.*

The news hit you hard, but you swallowed it. You had worked too hard to let it defeat you. Yet, the sting of betrayal wasn’t easily ignored. He hadn’t told you. He hadn’t warned you. He was coming back to take the very thing you had worked so tirelessly for.

For days, you were a mess. Racing weekends became a blur of frustration. Every time you saw Fernando’s name on the timing sheets, every time you heard the roar of his engine in the distance, something inside of you twisted.

Rivals

The first time you went head-to-head with Fernando on track was at the Monaco Grand Prix. The streets of Monte Carlo, narrow and unforgiving, had always been a playground for him. You had grown up watching him win here, his aggressive style perfectly suited to the challenge. But now? Now, he was your competition.

The tension in the paddock was palpable. You hadn’t spoken much to Fernando since his return—an awkward, strained silence had settled between you both. He was now racing for Aston Martin, and you were still with your current team, fighting for every point.

Race day arrived, and as you suited up, your heart pounded in your chest. The press had been relentless, comparing you to Fernando—asking if you were nervous, asking if you felt the pressure. You couldn’t let them see you break.

As you lined up on the grid, your eyes drifted to Fernando’s car. He was in his familiar spot, just a few rows ahead of you. When his eyes met yours, you felt a twinge of something—regret, longing, but also something else. The rivalry. You had to put it all aside now. You weren’t his protégé anymore. You were his equal. And that meant you had to beat him.

The race was a blur of tight corners, full-throttle accelerations, and the constant threat of losing grip. Fernando had a knack for reading the race, for making late-breaking moves that left you on edge. Lap after lap, he pushed you, forcing you to respond with everything you had.

But it wasn’t just the pressure on the track that had you on edge. It was the way his presence haunted you. Every time you braked too late or took a corner too aggressively, you could almost feel him beside you, his voice in your ear.

Don’t overdrive the car. Control your emotions.

And then, it happened.

It was the final lap, and you were battling for position. You had the inside line heading into the chicane, the tires on your car worn and your concentration slipping. Fernando, pushing hard from behind, wasn’t giving an inch. You could feel his car getting closer, so close that his rearview mirror almost felt like it was inside your helmet.

You took the corner too sharply, trying to block his line. And that’s when it happened.

Fernando’s car clipped your rear tire. The next thing you knew, your car was spinning, the track blurring around you, the world upside down.

In an instant, you were off the track. The gravel crunched under your tires as you skidded to a halt. For a moment, there was nothing but silence.

"Shit! Are you okay?" Fernando’s voice crackled through your radio, panic in his voice.

You gripped the steering wheel, a lump in your throat. He didn’t mean to do that. It was an accident. But it didn’t change the fact that it was him the man who had once mentored you, the man who had taught you everything you knew, the man who had now put you in the gravel.

You sat there for a long moment, trying to regain your composure. The race was over for you. But it wasn’t over for Fernando.

You heard the engine roar as his car raced past. And then, as he crossed the line into the pits , he was the one who had retired without any reason to.

The Apology

The days after the incident were heavy. The press had made their usual spectacle of the crash. But you were quiet. You kept your distance, kept your head down. Fernando had won, of course. The car was still fast, even if he had been a little too aggressive.

He didn’t come to you right away. It wasn’t until the next race in Austria that you finally saw him, walking through the paddock, looking like he hadn’t slept a wink. His eyes met yours, and for the first time since Monaco, you both stopped.

He cleared his throat, stepping closer to you.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. “I thought it was Ocon.”

You blinked, trying to hold back the flood of emotions rushing to your chest. The apology wasn’t much, but it was enough to make the walls you’d built around your heart begin to crack.

“Fernando,” you said softly, “I know. I know it wasn’t intentional. but” You cut yourself off, swallowing hard. “You could’ve hurt me. You could’ve ruined everything we worked for.”

His gaze softened, and for a moment, he wasn’t the driver who had taken your spot. He was just Fernando the man who had shown you how to drive, how to fight for everything you wanted.

“I didn’t mean for it to go like this,” he said quietly. “I’ve been a fool.”

You were silent, looking at the ground, feeling the weight of the last few years crash down on you.

And then, finally, you looked up at him. “You taught me how to race. But you also taught me how to let go. Maybe... maybe it’s time for it for us to let go.”

Confessions

Months had passed since the Monaco incident, and the tension between you and Fernando, once thick and palpable, had slowly faded into a quiet understanding. The rivalry had not diminished the bond you shared, but it had forged a new dynamic. There were moments when you'd catch him watching you, his gaze steady, his usual cocky demeanor softened by something deeper.

It was after the Italian Grand Prix, a race that had been as unpredictable as the season itself, that everything finally came to a head. You had managed to finish in the points, a small but significant victory for you and your team, while Fernando had taken a step back from the podium, frustrated with his own performance. As you made your way through the paddock, you saw him standing near the garage, his eyes distant. You walked over, unsure of what to expect, but the warmth in his gaze when he saw you took you by surprise.

“Not bad today,” he said, his usual teasing tone absent, replaced by something genuine.

“Could’ve been better,” you replied, glancing at his tired eyes. "But you, you’re still a threat on the track, Fernando. Always will be."

He chuckled softly, then fell quiet. The noise of the paddock, the usual chaos of post-race analysis, faded as the two of you stood in that small, private bubble. It was strange, how it had always been with him. Every time you were around, you felt seen—truly seen, in a way that no one else could.

“You’ve come so far,” he said, his voice unusually soft. “I don’t think you even realize how much you've changed, how much you've grown since I first saw you.”

You raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk pulling at your lips. “It’s all thanks to you, isn’t it?”

He looked down at the ground, almost as if hesitating. The silence between you stretched, and then Fernando looked up, his eyes locking with yours. “Maybe... but it’s not just that. There’s something I need to say to you.” He took a deep breath, his hands gripping the edge of the pit wall.

You felt your heart skip a beat. "What is it?"

“I never meant for things to get so complicated between us,” Fernando started, his voice low but clear. “I’ve been trying to convince myself that it was just the rivalry, that it was all about racing. But the truth is I’ve been holding back for so long. Holding back from telling you what I really feel.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You knew what he was about to say, and yet, hearing it aloud made the words seem more real than ever.

“I care about you," he said, the words tumbling out, raw and honest. "Not just as a driver or a mentor, but... more than that. You mean more to me than I’ve let on."

For a moment, all you could do was stand there, staring at him, your heart racing. The past few months had been a whirlwind conflict, growth, understanding but now, in this quiet moment, everything felt clear.

“I care about you too, Fernando,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ve been so focused on proving myself, on being the driver you helped me become, that I never realized how much you meant to me until now.”

There was no dramatic confession, no grand gesture. Just two people, who had been through so much together, finally acknowledging the feelings that had been there all along.

Fernando smiled, a warmth in his eyes that you hadn’t seen before. “So, we’re not just teammates anymore?”

You shook your head, a small laugh escaping your lips. “Definitely not.”

He stepped closer, his hand gently brushing against yours. It wasn’t a rush or a need to act on anything. It was just a simple, unspoken connection—one that had been building for so long, and now, at last, it was out in the open.

“You’re incredible,” he said softly, his voice filled with admiration. “I’ve always known that. But now I get to see it up close. I’m lucky to be here with you, to be a part of your journey.”

You smiled, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders. The competition, the doubts, the uncertainty—it all melted away in that moment. You were no longer just a driver fighting for recognition. You were someone with a future. A future that, for the first time in a long time, didn’t feel quite so lonely.

“We’ll see what happens next,” you said, your heart lighter than it had been in years. “But I’m ready for it. Whatever it is.”

Fernando nodded, his hand resting lightly on your shoulder, a silent promise between the two of you.

The next race came and went, and although the rivalry remained on track, it had transformed into something deeper something that was no longer just about the competition. And when the season came to an end, it was not just your achievements that filled your thoughts, but the quiet moments shared with Fernando: the conversations after races, the supportive glances across the paddock, and the realization that you were no longer fighting alone.

In the end, it wasn’t the checkered flags or podiums that defined your journey. It was the person who stood beside you, someone who had seen you for who you were and who you could be. And for the first time, you weren’t just racing for yourself. You were racing for both of you.

[schluttforschlatt]

O Christmas Tree

No warnings, just a lil fluff based on a post @marsandwich made

I’m usually the worlds biggest grinch but with the Christmas album coming out in like a week I figured why not get a lil festive :)

WC: 1.5k

Schlatt x Reader (no explicit gender)

The smell of cranberry and cinnamon wafted through the apartment, accompanied by the gentle hum of the central air system running. You hadn’t meant to take an afternoon nap, but the long morning you had with your boyfriend (Christmas tree shopping, to be exact) tuckered you out. Yawning, you trotted down the stairs and into the living room, where a scene straight out of a Hallmark film was playing out. Two cats, one orange and one black, sat on the coffee table, overseeing a unique holiday ritual (stringing lights on said tree) being performed by their adopter (your lovely, handsome boyfriend). Their tails danced around each other until the little orange menace took notice of your sudden presence and chirped up at you. Your boyfriend turned around almost instantly, moving to close the distance between the two of you.

“Hey, Doll. Feelin’ better?” He asked, ruffling your hair as your arms circled around his middle. You nodded your head into his chest.

“Didn’t mean t’ fall asleep,” you mumbled at him, though your voice was muffled by the soft fabric of his t-shirt. He mimicked your actions, bringing his own arms to wrap around your waist. “Guess I waited too long to eat and felt off.” He hummed in agreement, the sensation vibrating in his chest.

“Well, you made it down here just in time. Made some mulled cider like my mom used to make for us growing up. It’s just about done,” you took a deep breath in, reveling in the sweet scent of citrus and spice. “Figured we could have some while we decorate the tree.” He pulled back a bit to smile down at you, a gesture that you returned up at the taller man.

“Sounds great, Jay. I love you.” He releases his arms and opts to grab one of your hands instead, leading you into the kitchen. It wasn’t often that he played around in the kitchen, too many burnt pizzas tainting the art of cooking for him. But it was the holiday season, and he loved to go all out. Though this would only be your second Christmas together, he insisted that mulled cider was a tradition for him. Oh, how you looked forward to many many more with him. He pulled your knuckles to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to them before letting your arm drop.

“I love you, too. You wanna grab some mugs for us?” You nodded in response, taking a step over to the cupboard that housed glassware. You felt a firm smack land on your left ass cheek, spinning around to point an accusing finger at your boyfriend. Before you could open your mouth to jokingly threaten Jay, his arms went up in defense and his face became a tinted light pink.

“Sorry, Toots,” a playful grin tugging at his lips. “There was a bug or somethin’.” You shook your head, giggling as you returned to the cupboard. Opening the wooden doors up, you grabbed down a Minecraft mug for yourself, and decided your boyfriend would get a silly Twilight one. The two of you had accidentally begun a fun little mug collection after a trip to an antique store in your hometown. It started with a novelty mug that said “Left Handed Mug” in a blocky font, and on the “backside” a small hole so that if the user was to drink from the cup with their right hand, it would just spill. Its purpose was served one morning when you went to take a sip of Schlatt’s unattended hot tea, pouring the drink down your chest. You couldn’t even be mad about that incident, there was a large bold warning right on the ceramic.

Closing the cupboard up, you shifted back towards your boyfriend, setting both mugs down adjacent to him. He glanced over and let out a soft chuckle at your selection.

“I forgot we had ‘Bella, Where the Hell have you been, Loca?’ still.” You scoffed.

“What do you mean, ‘still’? It was a gift from Ted! I could never part with it!” You waved your hands in an exasperated manner. Jay smiled at you once again and filled the mugs with the sweet concoction, using a ladle to scoop fruit and cinnamon into each glass.

The two of you stood in the kitchen discussing dinner plans for the coming evening. If it was two o’clock currently, then you’d probably be done with the tree around five-ish, be able to order a pizza at six, which gave you plenty of time to clean up before settling in on the couch for the night to watch Die Hard (it absolutely is a Christmas movie, thank you very much). After agreeing what toppings to get on said pizza, you both made haste for the living room. Setting the mugs down on the coffee table and shooing the cats out of the room, you began to delicately unpack an absurd amount of baubles. You and Schlatt were very organized people, but you thought it was a tad unnecessary for him to store Every. Single. Ornament. In its original box. It didn’t matter if the box was 20 years old and falling apart, there was simply just no other way Schlatt could store them. He could be a strange critter sometimes.

“Want me to put a record on, Love?” You called to your boyfriend. His answer: A wide, crinkly eyed, toothy smile spread across his face. “Any requests?”

“Surprise me.” He responded.

You waltzed over to the entertainment center and searched for your favorite Christmas albums amongst your conjoined record collection. Jay’s, of course, being “A Jolly Christmas from Frank Sinatra”, and yours, “Elvis’ Christmas Album”. Long before your relationship, you’d had a conversation about Christmas music and the love/hate relationship you both shared for it. Only acceptable between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Eve. Only classics, the ones that brought nostalgia and memories of baking cookies with your grandmothers.

Satisfied, you removed the first record from its sleeve, placing the vinyl onto the turntable, and maneuvered the needle to the edge of it. After a pressing the “on” button, the wax came to life, blessing the room with Elvis’ “Santa Clause is Back in Town”. You returned to your spot next to Schlatt, and eagerly began stringing colorful ornaments all around the tree.

You didn’t know exactly how long the two of you had spent decorating the tree, but you did know that your Elvis record had played once through in entirety, and Jay’s Sinatra record was halfway through the second round of side a.

After giving the tree a final once over, Schlatt leaned down to pull you into his chest, resting his chin atop your head. You reached up, hands rubbing soothing circles on his biceps.

“She looks perfect, Doll,” he nearly whispers, placing a kiss to the crown of your head. “But, we’re missing the pièce de rèsistance.” You stare forward, scanning the branches high and low. Jay takes notice of this, removing an arm from your body to point up. The star.

“I didn’t see it in the storage boxes, that completely slipped my mind,” you admitted, tapping Schlatts arm to let you go. You crouch down, sifting through tissue paper and crumbling cardboard scattered around the floor by the tree, but do not see any signs of a tree topper. “It should’ve been in one of these boxes, no?”

“I didn’t see the star either, but I do see an angel right in front of me.” You look up to your boyfriend, rolling your eyes at his corny joke, but unable to stop the bashful smile creeping up your cheeks. He reciprocates the gesture.

“In all seriousness though, I haven’t seen it.” You run a hand through your hair, gently scratching at your scalp. “Are you sure it’s not in with the extra string lights?”

“I’ll go check the garage. You wanna start cleaning up?” Jay asks. You nod yes, and he swiftly walks out the front door, not bothering to engage any of the locks.

Clean up wasn’t too bad. It’s fairly easy to shove things back into the storage bins before dragging them towards the kitchen. It had been maybe all but ten minutes before your boyfriend re-emerges through the front door, a small box in hand. He removes the star from it, tossing the package on the coffee table before handing it to you. You stare at him dumbfounded, your eyebrows raising.

“Jay, I’m too short for this. I can’t reach the top.” He beams at you. What kind of plan does he-

“C’mon, short stack. Your own personal tall guy is ready to assist.” He jokes, kneeling down and patting his shoulders. You let out a soft laugh.

“Alright, big guy, just don’t drop me.” You entertain him, mounting his shoulders and holding on for dear life. He stands up slowly, as to not freak you out, and saunters closer to the tree. His grip on your thighs is comforting as you stretch your arms out, gingerly placing the missing piece of the puzzle in its rightful place. He takes a step back before kneeling down to let you dismount. Before you can plant both feet back on the floor, Schlatt’s arms engulf you once more, this time hoisting you up into a bridal carry, forcing a small squeak from you.

Pressing his forehead to your own and nuzzling your noses together, he takes a deep breath in, followed by a long exhale. You plant a kiss on his cheek, and in return receive a tender kiss on the lips.

“Merry Christmas, Angel.”

“Merry Christmas, Jay.”

Idk I’m not super happy with this, but I’m craving Christmas content so 🤷🏻‍♀️ chapter 2 of the bartender fic is coming out sometime within the week tho!!!

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Gods and Humans reaction to Tesla, Sasaki, Chen Gon, and Buddha with a Wife!Reader like Jessica Rabbit (She has a voluptuous body, speaks in a seductive, breathy voice, very calm, even in danger, brave, quick-witted and having a great singing voice, as she’s a very popular singer)

Despite this though, she’s very loyal and deeply in love with her beloved, who she likes to call her ‘Hunny Bunny’ or ‘Darling’

She also took Zerofuku in as her child, even calling him her ‘Baby Bunny’ and sings him songs to help him sleep or soothe him when he’s upset

She doesn’t care about the catcalls, stares or the lust in others eyes, as she’s only devoted to her love, and doesn’t care about how others think of her, even explaining “I’m not bad… I just look that way”

However a stupid, lecherous god tried to grope her, but before her Love could react, said God proceeded to scream in pain as his hand reveals to have been caught in a bear trap (The ladies could only laugh as even Shiva commented that was a cleaver ‘booby trap’)

-Wowza- that was one of the words that many used to describe you- you were drop dead gorgeous, stunning, sexy, and just so alluring looking that you had heads turning of all genders when you walked by.

-You were a well-known and very popular singer, able to charm anyone with your beautiful, luscious voice, and paired with your looks and sexy nature when you would perform, you had admirers all over Valhalla who would do anything to just be in the same room as you.

-The only downside… YOU WERE MARRIED!!!! It wasn’t fair- someone got to you first and you were completely loyal to your ‘Honey Bunny’ (Love).

-The same eyes that watched you with awe and desire glared daggers in his direction, as they couldn’t fathom that he was married to you, thinking he had tried some underhanded trick!

-While professional but still a little sexy with others, talking with your low breathy voice that seemed to have the spines of men melting, when (Love) came around, you were so open with your affections, rushing over in your heels, hugging him close and covering him with kisses, happy to see him.

-The only other person who would get your highly coveted affections was your adopted son, Zerofuku, whom you called Baby Bunny. He was drawn to you, being able to easily sense you were a good person and he loves your hugs, you were always so warm, and he would proudly wear the proof of your love, your lipstick marks all over his face.

-You were his safe space, he could easily relax when you would sing to him, and if he was ever in his Envy form, while being salty to everyone else, he could never be like that to you. He would accept your embrace and he could just feel his anger melting away.

-(Love) was very respectful of you, if the two of you were out and about together, you would be holding his arm and he would defend you if someone were to cat-call you, calling them out on their disrespectful behavior- you were a stunning beauty, not a dog to be called.

-There were some, those who were jealous of you, who would try to spread nasty rumors that you would use your body to get your way on things, or to seduce others, but those who actually knew you knew that this was the farthest from the truth.

-When Brunnhilde, a good friend of yours, asked you this after she pulled (Love) away to keep him from attacking someone, why you didn’t do more to defend yourself, you just smiled down at her, your eyes half closed, “They can say what they want, I know who I am. I’m not bad, I just look that way.”

-However, you did prove yourself that while you let the words roll off your back, you didn’t let anyone who wasn’t your husband, or your son touch you.

-A lecherous god had seen you and thinking you were an easy mark, he immediately came over, despite it being in broad daylight while you were surrounded by many of your friends and stuck his hand down your dress to cop a feel.

-You had frozen in shock, before a loud SNAP was heard and he howled loudly, pulling his hand out, a bear trap closed around his hand as he was screaming in pain.

-Your female friends all looked proud, giving you nods of approval while many of your male friends were a bit scared, a few asking things like, “Do women really have booby traps like that?”

-You turned with a smile as (Love) hugged you, his head on your chest as he pouted, “That’s for us to know, and for perverts like this to find out.”

-You were a dangerous woman, you had beauty, brains, and so much love for your family. You were truly a work of art.

[maxarchive]

How are the emotions on this Saturday evening in Las Vegas? Is it an overriding relief? Is that the main thing?

An immense relief, but also a little bit more emotional than I was expecting, actually. Both from Max on the radio and I let Christian give him, well, let's say carry out all the complimentaries on the radio, because I choked up a little bit as well, and I think it just comes down to that relief at the end of what has been actually quite an intense year. Not quite as intense as 2021, but it at times ran it close.

Why is this one so special?

They're all special, don't get me wrong. Last year was special for very different reasons, but this one's special because of the effort and commitment that not only Max, but the whole team has had to put in to make it happen. Ok, the first half looked like it was a bit of a cruise, but actually we entered quite a difficult period, as everybody knows. But we had to work day and night to really try to understand the source of the problems and I think we've started to come out the other side, which is great news for the team, but it's also meant that our performances on track have improved and we saw the combination of that in Brazil as well.

Tell us a little bit more about the job that Max Verstappen has done this year. Would you say it's his best season so far?

The worrying thing for the grid is that Max is improving every year, which is frightening really because he's at an incredible level as it is, but in all areas he's working hard with the team, his racecraft on track, his qualifying laps, his consistency and also his ability to give up when you need to give up, and we saw that today, you know, he raced for what matter today rather than the final place on the podium.

In all of those areas you've just described, where has he made the most progress this year?

I think ultimately it just comes down to maturity and experience. Having been there three times before, I guess 2021 laid the foundations and now he's just becoming a very, very, very complete driver.

Since Miami, McLaren have been running you close. They've quite often been faster than you. Has there ever been a moment this year where you've doubted that you were going to win this championship?

I wouldn't say doubted, but certainly you don't take anything for granted. And as I said earlier, we took one race at a time, there was bit of a trend towards the middle of the year where things weren't going our way and we could see that other teams, not only McLaren, but other teams were making progress on us, relatively speaking and we had to do something. We had to make some changes and the team has come through on that. So kudos to them.

And how is your bond with Max evolved this year because it feels like this is the first time since you've been winning championships that you've been under a lot of strain together. And we did hear a few flare ups along the way, didn't we? Has it always been all sweetness and light or have there been-

Hungary springs to mind. We had actually a very quiet week after, I don't think there was a word spoken in the 3/4 days after the Hungary race, but we had a really good meeting in Spa together with Christian and Pierre just clearing the air. Not that there was ever any animosity, but I think sometimes when adrenaline is running that high, it's best just to leave things alone. Max and I are very similar in that respect. We're not one to bow down and give in very easily. So, yes, definitely that portion of the year springs to mind. But for the rest, again, it's a relationship that's grown over nine seasons. So we know each other very well. We work together very well. So long may that continue.

Well, let's throw it forward to 2025. It looks on paper like it might be incredibly close. Does that actually help someone like Max Verstappen because he makes no mistakes?

I think it helps him knowing that he has the ability to pull off results that perhaps aren't always there. And I think at the same time that maybe hurts or dents some of his competitors psychologically, not all of them, but perhaps some of them. But, you know, 2025 is a few months away. Now, I think more importantly, we need to finish the year on a high to keep morale in the team up over the winter because again it's been a really hard, hard year. And I think this was a bit of a unique, as everybody knows, it was a bit of a unique event with the temperatures and the tyres behavior, et cetera. So I don't think it's a true reflection of the car performance out there today. We'll do our best to finish Qatar and Abu Dhabi on a high and hopefully grab another win or, or two. And then, yeah, next year is next year.

[mybworlds]

Fathoms below

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x f!reader

Warnings: use of you, you’re a mermaid, I won't give any details except for nice long legs and very long hair, nudity, violence (a little?), use of both pov. If I missed smt please let me know.

Summary: Marcus Acacius is a fighter and a conqueror, he's returning to Rome when a mysterious girl saves him from a shipwreck.

Masterlist

A/N New story, new (?) characters, I hope you like it as much as I do and if you don't like it, please be merciful. Likes, comments and reblogs are not mandatory, but very appreciated! ❤️ Have you seen Gladiator II? What do you think? I'm quite disappointed, if you want we can talk about it in a separate post.

follow @mybworlds and turn on notifications to get notified when I post new fics

Taglist @harriedandharassed; @orcasoul; @blazeflays; @ijustlovemensm; @duck-duck-goose2

Thx for the dividers @saradika-graphics.

His whole life has been on a battlefield. His skin is now dark from all the dust soaked in sweat and spilled blood, his skin burned under the scorching sun. His hair a mass perpetually disheveled by the wind, by the many battles won over the years.

Marcus Acacius is the general of the Roman army, the most intelligent, the most ruthless. His hands are now a perpetual red, too many lives had been taken by his sword, no matter how many baths he takes and the considerable amount of perfumes and oils used, the battle is a part of him.

The battles faced in Numidia and Egypt had contributed to the extension of the glory and power of Rome. Acacius, after his last victory, is ordered to return to Rome where he would be celebrated and would have the great honor of becoming one of the most important men in Rome.

What the emperors order, the general performs. No matter how brutal or inhumane it is, he obeys. He doesn't always love what he does, sometimes it is senseless. But in Rome he could never say no, no one can.

Once, at the end of one of his many military campaigns, Acacius is on the coast of Sicily with his men — the province of Sicily was the first to be created and an important land of meetings and trade for the glory of Rome. He has just finished yet another campaign and cannot help but think of how many men have been killed at the whim of two mad emperors.

Acacius only follows orders, but he can't take it anymore. He fights, he kills, sometimes he takes prisoners if that's what he's ordered to do, sometimes not. He doesn't care about glory or having statues dedicated to him, he just wants some peace for himself and his life. He’d like to live peacefully at least for a while, “General!” one of his subordinates calls him back to reality “We are ready for interrogation.” he sighs before joining his men.

That day, the General has to interrogate one of the prisoners to find out if they’re plotting against the empire, the man's face is desperate. Acacius, even if he doesn't fully understand their language, can clearly see the fear in the man's eyes. He speaks and asks what they are organizing against Rome, but the only words are "mercy, I know nothing", he looks at him and the more he looks at him the more he feels disgusted by all this. At yet another futile attempt to learn something from him, his subordinate kills him.

Acacius looks at him shocked and completely incredulous, “He wouldn't have said anything anyway.” the other justifies his action.

He’s about to reply when a noise catches his attention and then two frightened eyes catch him, then he sees you fleeing. Your gait is awkward almost as if you’re in some kind of pain.

Without raising the alarm of an intruder in the camp, he walks away from the scene of the murder and starts following you into the woods with his trusty dagger still in his hand. He knows, in fact, that you could be a bait and that you could be used to lure him away from his men.

“Stop.” he shouts at you “Don’t run away!” he adds.

You stop and look at him, your gaze still terrified as if you’ve a monster before you. Marcus Acacius has long seen himself as a dog faithful to his masters, always ready to obey no matter what, even if his actions were monstrous enough to make him feel like a monster.

He looks around for the presence of other men who were lurking around there ready to attack him, but the nature around them doesn’t suggest the presence of other people except them.

Your gaze is still terrified, however you don’t stop looking into Acacius' eyes, feeling as if he’s being scrutinized in the depths of his tormented soul.

Then a completely unexpected gesture, you touch his face. Your skin is cold as sea water, “You’re freezing, are you okay?” he asks you, jumping at the unexpected cold on that hot summer day.

You look at him confused, “Where are you from?” he asks you curiously.

But your look is confused, “You don't understand me, do you? ¿De dónde es? Waar kom jy vandaan?” Acacius tries to establish contact with you, but with the result that you shake your head and look at him, both surprised and curious at the same time.

He puts away his dagger and raises his hands in surrender, “Sorry, if I scared you,” he tells you.

Oh, if his subordinates had heard that, they would have called him a wimp!

There’s something about you, something terribly beautiful and terrifying at the same time. Your beauty is unmatched and yet the General had met all sorts of women, but none as beautiful as you are.

Then, you both look at each other for a long, silent look before you start caressing his face with both hands, who knows if you want to tell him something and he doesn’t understand what you want to tell him!

Acacius finds himself closing his eyes in a moment of total abandon, something he had never allowed himself to do before. Because of his role, he could never let his guard down, he always have to be vigilant and wary, but at that moment he doesn’t even know why he feels so captivated by you, a mysterious girl.

Your touch is so gentle it almost sends shivers down his spine and for a moment he feels like he's in the right place at the right time where no war or duty calls him back to his place, he feels an absolute peace even if it lasts until you move your hands away and he opens his eyes again.

Your eyes are a mixture of confusion, fear, curiosity and beauty. Acacius wants to do the same thing you did with him, but then he thinks that maybe you would have been afraid and you would have run away.

“What’s your name?” he asks again, hoping that your name comes out of your lips, the name of a girl who seems to have hypnotized him.

You look at him again, opening your lips slightly as if to speak to him, but no sound comes out of your mouth.

Are you mute?

His expression softens and a faint smile curves his lips. You imitate his expression, “I have to go now.” he tells you slowly in the hope that you could understand and taking a step back.

Oh, how much he’d have given to stay and not have to return to Rome, he knows what awaits him!

You too move away from him, lowering your gaze for a moment and then looking up again.

After a last silent glance, everyone goes their own way. Who knows if you live there!

The next day, Marcus, much to his embarrassment, was gifted a new marble statue as a result of his latest conquest for the Empire. It’s beautiful and the sculptor seems to know him very well since he managed to depict in detail every single wrinkle and war scar. He thanks the man, but deep down he doesn't feel comfortable taking that gift with him, but he can't refuse it either as it would mean offending the sculptor.

A few weeks later, he's on the ship headed to Rome. Acacius had thought about you several times, but without finding you, and yet there aren’t many villages in the surrounding area and he finds himself very disappointed at not being able to at least say goodbye to you before returning to his home. The General is near the bow of the ship, reading important documents in which his last enterprise is documented, when there’s a strange splashing sound that takes his focus off from the papyrus. Marcus looks up from his papers and walks over to the railing. Nothing special except some ripples and probably a few dolphins here and there.

The Sun dips into the waters of the Mediterranean Sea, when the man goes to sleep. Despite his tiredness, he can't sleep because on the one hand he’s happy to return home and live his city again, but on the other he knows that with this his latest victory, the emperors will force him to marry some domina. And Marcus knows that, although he's a man and enjoys certain freedoms, in the end he will have to give in and marry so as to contribute to the birth of other powerful men who will contribute to the glory of Rome.

The man must have fallen asleep because suddenly he feels a jolt to the ship, he gets up with difficulty staggering from one side to the other. The sea is definitely stormy. When he leaves his quarters, his men are screaming for mercy from the god Neptune. The waves reach the deck, wetting everything and everyone, and the ship rocks more and more violently.

“General, we’re lost!” someone shouts “We’re still too far from Rome and we can’t even go back! This will be our tomb.”

Although he wants to encourage his men, the situation is truly desperate. The waves are crashing onto the deck with great violence, wetting everyone, and the sky is torn by flashes of lightning. Then, everything changes for the worse in a few moments, a lightning struck the mainmast which breaks and catch fire. Some men throw themselves into the sea in desperation, others remain clinging everywhere could. General Acacius is hit in the head by bow mast and ends up in the water.

The man doesn’t even know how he doesn’t faint after receiving that strong blow to the head and tries to surface despite the high waves, but his clothes and the fury of the sea don’t help him at all. He begins to drink saltwater and drown in the depths of the sea, when something seems to grab him and drag him away. The man faints.

When Marcus regains consciousness, he feels the gravel and the sand of the coast beneath him. He opens his eyes, barely raising his head, he feels overwhelmed and confused, when he sees a girl — that same girl, you — next to him, he's about to say something, but you place a finger on his lips, your skin is soft and cold as he remembered it, you look at him with a pleading and worried look, you smile at him as if you are happy to know he’s safe and after looking into his eyes again as if to make sure he's okay, Marcus watches you go away and disappear into the waves. A few moments later a fishtail appears where you disappeared.

It can't be!

No one can understand how much you love the world above the surface, the sun, the wind, you love every sound that comes from it.

You are a mermaid, but you want so much to live up there.

You are looking out more and more often, running the risk of being seen by humans. According to your father, they are the worst creatures in the world, always hostile and destructive to each other and to you. But not according to your aunt, Mira, she loves humans and in fact she encourages you to go up and explore the terrestrial world.

When you were still a baby, you went up to the surface with her. It was your first time and you loved every moment, at least until a galley almost saw you and this led to a furious argument between the two brothers which then led to Mira exile.

From that day on, your father prevented you not only from seeing her, but also from imitating her. You should never have come to the surface again.

You obeyed, at least until the renewed curiosity towards the surface and humans came back forcefully to make its way inside you and since then you’ve started secretly collecting everything related to the human world, they are so beautiful, they do so many wonderful things and they write so much. One day you’ll learn to read in their language, maybe you can ask your aunt Mira for help, she knows a lot of things.

You mostly come up to the surface in the evening or at night, this is because it's the safest moment not only because your father isn't around, but also because you are less likely to be seen by humans.

And that evening is no exception even though there is a strong wind and the currents are quite strong even down there in your world. It's one of those days, that humans call summer, the first time you see him.

In the evening you like to watch what your aunt explained to you is called Moon reflected in the waters of the Mediterranean Sea. The water becomes so bright on the surface that creates a strange play of light. That summer evening, you surface cautiously and very carefully, looking left and right, you come out of the water. Your beautiful fish tail gradually disappears as you surface and is replaced by nice long legs.

Your aunt had explained to you that this magic happens for you mermaids. You can go up to the surface, but you can't stay there for long. Magic always comes with a price, she told you. In fact, if it was possible to have legs, then you would also feel great pain in having them.

Effectively, your legs always hurt a little and it's not always pleasant to walk on them, but walking on the ground makes up for that pain. You immediately notice a small group of men at a certain distance, they seem to be soldiers from the way they are dressed. Your aunt Mira told you everything about them, even though she always warned you not to get close to them because it's too dangerous. Watch them from afar, but never get close to them, these were your aunt's words. But you want to touch them, see them, talk to them. It can't be that they are just murderers like your daddy says.

Your father told you that humans are always fighting among themselves, always ready to kill each other, to hurt each other, to prevail over each other and he once told you about a large group of humans wandering around from one corner of the sea to the other who does nothing but crave power and claim their dominion over that territory. Mira told you that when they don't live in their beautiful houses, they move from one place to another and use tents to sleep and several tents together form a camp.

Oh, it must be wonderful to move on ships or living in beautiful houses like the ones you've seen in the books you keep in a little nook away from everything and everyone!

You see many tents in the distance, so you know that further ahead there are many humans around. You look around you cautiously, close your eyes and strain your ears: there are some who speak of something and others who say something else, someone silence someone else and others are making strange thudding noises.

You open your eyes and step out of the water completely. After a few steps you turn toward the sea and see your home from the human perspective: a mass of dark water tossed by the wind. You turn around and look for something to cover yourself, you are completely naked and you aren’t sure if humans go around like that.

After getting dressed, you move silently and approach those voices that are gradually becoming louder and louder.

Then, you see him: a man with a grim and sharp look, his eyes are dark and he looks at the man at his feet with a serious expression. The kneeling man is shaking and says something you don’t understand, but the man in front of him continue to stare at him coldly, then someone behind the man with the cold gaze, approaches with something in his hands that has every appearance of being something dangerous. In a few seconds something happens that you never thought you'd see: the third man with that stuff in his hands, quickly approaches the kneeling man and hit him with that same item he has in his hands. The man falls on his side almost screaming, you open your eyes wide, amazed and scared at the same time by the speed of the gesture and by that dull scream emitted by the man on the ground who doesn’t move anymore.

You look at the cold-eyed man and the third man, the first one has an annoyed tone of voice towards the other one who in turn answers with great speed. Who knows what they are saying to each other!

Then, you look back at the man on the ground and only then you notice what what appears to be blood. You’ve seen enough, it's time to go back. But as you step back, you step on something that catch the eye of the cold-looking man who turns his head in your direction. Your eyes meet for the first time and you feel a strange sensation that make you run away quickly in the same direction you’ve taken to reach that field.

You can't run as your legs still hurt too much. A burning disappointment spread in your chest, maybe your father is right about humans and your aunt is wrong. You’ve almost reached the beach, when you hear the same voice behind you. His voice isn’t cold this time, he seems surprised. You don’t understand what he's telling you, it's the first time you hear a human speak. It's a strange language theirs, but for some reason, even though you don’t understand anything he's saying, you turn around towards him and his dark eyes almost freeze you in place as if he has cast a spell on you.

His voice don’t seem to be threatening at that moment, yet you see and hear how he addressed the others, who is the man in front of you? You press yourself against a tree behind you with a frightened look. You see him put away what he has in his hands and lift them up as if to reassure you, he speaks to you, his tone of voice is calm. It gives you the shivers. He starts to come towards you, approaching with a slow pace, you want to run away, but your legs don’t seem to respond to your desire to escape.

He's telling you something, his voice is warm and peaceful. Beautiful, almost musical. It reminds you of the echo that seashells produce on windy days. It's a nice sound, but it makes you shiver. He's now one step away from you, his eyes are so dark. His stained face has a strange color, his skin color is so unique.

You find yourself reaching out to his face, his first reaction is to pull away and you pull your hand away in fear of his response. Then, he seems to relax and you stretch out your hand again.

His skin is a little damaged and warm to the touch, tingling where his beard is, you graze the outline of his lips and face with your fingertips, then follow the line of a scar under his eye as if to memorize every detail of him. Humans are so beautiful, so fascinating. You want to tell him he's beautiful, but you don’t know how.

Then, something inexplicable happens: by touching him you can feel and see what he saw, he really saw so much. How much blood he shed and how many people he saw, how many he argued with, talked with, you can even sense his deep torment, you feel even more curious about him now!

You look him straight in the eyes for a long time and he looks back at you in silence. For a moment the air seems to hang between you two, then you wake up from that spell and withdrew your hands.

He speaks to you so sweetly that you almost have trouble associating him with that man with the cold, authoritative look from earlier and the bloody memories you somehow saw. His eyes have a hint of sadness that contradicts his fury in battle.

Maybe he’s not happy doing what he does!

You'd like to tell him that he's beautiful and at the same time how beautiful and complicated human nature is, but you don't know how to tell him. You wish you could talk to him, understand him.

Then, he talks to you again, walking away from you and you realize he's leaving. You didn't want him to leave, but you can't force him and then now more than ever you want to know everything about humans, their culture, how they live, but above all you want to know what he will do, where he will go.

You do the same thing without ever leaving those dark eyes that in the light seem to be the color of the sandy bottoms of your home.

When you are sure he’s gone, you slowly reach the shoreline. You turn in the direction you came from and think back to that human, Marcus Acacius. You were very struck by how he hides his torment behind that almost cold and authoritarian mask. He’s such a fascinating creature.

You smile as you think back to what the human — Marcus — has seen and done, oh how you wish you could see some of the many things he sees, experience them with him. It would be incredibly fascinating.

You stay there for a while, then when the wind ripples the surface of the sea, you understand it's time to go. You place the soles of your feet in the water and at that moment a sensation of trembling mixed with cold spreads inside you, a sharp, painful sensation jolts you and runs through your legs, then gives way to an almost giving way feeling in your legs. You end up falling forward and at that moment you no longer feel your nice long legs, but your tail again. You drag yourself through the water until your tail is completely submerged and you can dive back into the depths of the sea.

Oh, you want to talk to your aunt Mira, you want to ask her if she knows of a way to get you to stay on the surface longer.

In the days that follow, you often return to the surface, barely peeking out of the water just to see him, you often see him on the beach, sometimes you see him sharpening what you’ve learned to be a dagger, you see him take off his armor and remain on more than one occasion with only a gray tunic and thoughtfully observe the horizon. He looks sad, thoughtful. You wish you could see again what is bothering him so much, you wish you could help him.

You still haven't found the courage to go to your aunt and ask for what's closest to your heart: to become part of his world. You hope your aunt can help you, she knows a lot of things.

Every day now when the sun goes down, you come up to the surface just to see him. One day you see him sitting on a rock a few meters from the shore, you hide because you don't know how to explain to him of your fishtail, he probably wouldn't understand. You see him wearing a wet shirt completely adhered to his body, he’s all intent on washing his hands and arms, they are dirty with what appears to be mud. His hair is wet and his curls are matted and dripping with water, one curl falls untidily on his forehead. His features in the light of the sunset seem to be even more masculine and incredibly beautiful.

You reach out a hand towards his face even if from afar as if you wanted to caress him and at that moment a light wind rises and the man's hair is as if shaken by a tender breeze that leads him to look up towards the horizon and you to hide behind a rocky ridge.

Oh, Marcus..

“I'll find you,” you hear him whisper. It’s one of the first sentences you understand in the human language. In fact, in these days listening to them you have learned a lot and now you are starting to understand something too. You hope he's talking about you, though of course you're not sure.

Days go by and coming to the surface and being with him, even if at a considerable distance, has become a nice habit. You don't even care if your father sees you or not, you go to him. Unfortunately, a galley appears near the coast of the island and you understand that they have come to take the man away from there. Who knows where they're going... maybe if you followed them a little...

You don't regret following him, even if you go really far away from your home, but you don't care at all. You follow the ship at a distance fearing that someone might see you. You’ve been following him for almost three days and you often see him there on the deck. He often stands there staring at the horizon with a thoughtful expression, who knows what he's thinking about.

One day the sky is almost as black as the night sky, the clouds are so dark that they scare you and you are so afraid for him. The wind is so strong and the waves are getting so high that even swimming is difficult for you.

Then, everything changes in an instant. A bolt of lightning strikes the trunk of the ship, which breaks in two and hits Marcus who was not too far from the rail and falls overboard. You rush towards it, the water is so dark that for a moment you can't see anything.

A few moments later a noise reverberates in the sea waters and you see the ship sinking, it’s a disturbing sight. You move with difficulty through the waves, you see many objects that were surely on board end up down, then you see him.

You see him unconscious, whirling in the waves and ending up under. You swim as fast as you can and reach him, grabbing him and making him resurface.

“I’ll save you, don’t be afraid.” You tell him reassuringly, he opens his eyes for a moment and then closes them immediately and abandons himself on you.

You can't quantify the time that passes until you reach dry land. Without thinking that anyone might see the scene, you drag Marcus, still unconscious, to the shore.

You start to feel pain in your fish tail which is a sign that your tail has started to change and turning into legs, but it doesn’t matter now. You drag Marcus until he's almost completely out of the water, his hair is wet and full of sand and gravel, “Please, open your eyes,” you beg him, moving a wet curl that fell on his wet forehead. You look at him and notice his torn robe on his arm, there's a bloody cut and you immediately peel a scale off your tail to heal him.

“You are beautiful, Marcus,” you murmur, looking with a rapt air at his face, so beautiful that it reminds you of the one depicted in a book you have at the bottom of the sea. You caress his face, his burning lips, but this time you can't see anything, perhaps because he is unconscious. You put your head on his chest and you feel him breathing fortunately. Only now you give yourself a moment to relax and smile happily that he’s safe.

A few moments later when he starts to wake up, you lift your head from his chest and at that moment he opens his eyes. He has beautiful eyes, you can't help but smile at him, you murmur "You’ll be fine now, you’re safe.” You quickly let go of him when you hear a chatter approaching.

You leave him so quickly that you don't think he could have seen who you really are.When you are far enough away, you turn around and see him surrounded by a small group of people who have reached him and helped him, "Now you are safe." you repeat to yourself, casting one last glance towards him who never stops looking towards the sea.

You smile one last time before diving back in the bottomless blue of the sea and reaching your home again, but with the promise that you’ll soon return and see him again.

[astra-ravana]

Mirror Magick Applications

Mirrors are a big part of our lives. Mirrored surfaces, both man-made and natural exist almost everywhere. Every culture has myths regarding mirrors and I'm sure some of these we have all heard. Such as breaking a mirror is worth seven years of bad luck, that you shouldn't keep them in the bedroom, or to cover all your mirrors after someone dies, so their soul isn't trapped. Mirrors are more than just shiny bathroom fixtures, they are literal portals and amplifiers with several magickal utilities.

Trapping Energy by Charging Mirrors

Mirrors can be used to 'trap' the energy of any setting you find particularly powerful. For example: leaving your mirror close to the ocean waves or in a dark forest overnight. It will absorb the potent natural energies, then you can use the mirror in late workings as you please.

Lunar magick is another area where mirror work is ideal. Place a few mirrors under the moon to charge them with the energy of that phase. If you want to use them for a specific purpose, consider marking them with a symbol or sigil. When you need the energy of the moon, or a moon phase, you can access it as needed by using an appropriately charged mirror.

Amplification

Mirrors, like crystals, can help to amplify the power of your spells ans rituals. Keeping a mirror on your altar can bolster and increase the success of your workings. Just as focused sunlight on a mirror ignites a fire, focused magick will ignite a spell. Make sure your spell components are reflected, or better yet, perform the working on top of a mirror, to substantially increase its power.

Scrying and Accessing Other Realms

When correctly utilized mirrors can be used to access messages and visions that we wouldn't normally be able to connect with. Scrying is an ancient divinatory magick that is often used as a form of fortune-telling. Traditionally, a lot of scrying was done with water, the ancient Celts and Greeks even practiced this form of divination. Mirror scrying is an evolution of these water oracles, with historical practitioners like the famous John Dee, who used highly polished silver, brass, mercury, or obsidian.

Scrying wit mirrors can be particularly powerful due to the idea that your reflection is the manifestation of your soul. When viewing your reflection, if you're well in tune with yourself, you can ask your soul questions regarding your life and development or even open up the door to another dimension entirely. Mirrors can be enchanted and sigified into being gateways in and of themselves.

Many scrying mirrors are black because one's own reflection can be rather distracting. The traditional material of a black mirror is obsidian, however you can craft your own by painting one side of a piece of glass black. Picture frames are great for this. A black mirror is the best option for scrying as you won't be distracted by your own features, leaving you open to interpret your visions.

Banishing

Mirrors, as reflective surfaces and magickal conductors, are often used in banishing spells. Banishing magick can be used when someone is directing negative energy your way or you're being harassed. In this case, a mirror can be used to return bad energy back to the person who sent it.

Banishing magick can be a wonderful tool when applied to bad habits or negative thoughts as well. To banish an idea or behavior, encant something akin to: "[what you're banishing] you've caused me pain, I banish you, now stay away. Mirror help to reflect my plight, and keep [what you're banishing] out of sight". Keep the mirror close to you in order to protect you from what you're banishing.

Defense

Mirrors are also an incredibly effective defensive tool. They can deflect any negative energy, ill intent, or malevolent spirits sent your way. By placing mirrors in areas where you need the most protection, you can repel any unwanted energy trying to infiltrate your space. For added potentcy, draw a protective sigil/symbol on the mirror and/or place a protective crystal in front of it.

Hexenspiegal: The Witch's Mirror

A hexenspiegal is a small mirror used as a protective charm to reflect away baneful/attack magick, the evil eye, and other bad omens and intentions, as well as return the energy back to its sender. Its basis is in German folk magick. Translated, it means "witch's mirror". Hexenspiegals may be suspended from cords, fastened to walls, or, in the case of small ones, worn as jewelry. You can make your own by cleansing, decorating (optional), and sigifying/enchanting a small mirror to your intent.

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 10

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending, but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, swearing, drug addiction, violence.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind, and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

Milwaukee, Wisconsin, July 24, 2017

Bad Omens left Richmond.

The previous year had undoubtedly been the most hectic of your lives. After months of hard work and merging all your ideas, you presented the tracks to a record label that seemed interested in the band's concept, and they suggested releasing your first album.

Since then, you’d been on a constant quest to make a name for yourselves on the road, playing shows in small venues for crowds that weren’t always the most engaging, and posting YouTube videos with the label’s support. Every bit of creative input came from your minds, and it was impossible to disagree when the synergy seemed to resonate with each of you.

A simple stage at Warped Tour felt monumental to you all, and naturally, you gave it your all the moment you stepped in front of the audience for the first time. Each time you heard more voices singing along at your shows, it warmed your heart in a way you couldn’t quite describe.

The chaotic routine was bearable because, to you and the guys, it felt like fun. Every performance outdid the last. You and Noah danced, jumped, whipped your hair, spun around, played with your voices, dove into the crowd, and teased your friends as they played. It was impossible not to feel at home when you were with them.

"Thank you so much, Warped Tour!" Noah said, breathless, a hand over his chest in gratitude.

"You made this afternoon so special for Bad Omens!" you chimed in as everyone gathered beside you. "We’ll never forget this!"

The crowd applauded, and you all exchanged glances, your eyes shimmering with emotion. It happened every time—those butterflies as if it were the very first show. Linking arms with Noah and Ruffilo, you all bowed deeply in gratitude, smiling wide. Folio tossed his drumsticks into the air, and Jolly followed with his picks before you all exited the stage, exhilarated and one after another.

"THAT WAS FUCKING AMAZING!" he yelled, startling you as he grabbed you from behind, lifting your feet off the ground and stumbling with your steps backstage. "Have I told you you were great today?"

"Only about a thousand times," you laughed, trying to dodge his desperate kisses on the side of your face as you shrank your neck.

In the distance, you could hear the crew dismantling the stage while you all drifted apart, each clutching a bottle of water. The guys greeted members of other bands and received praise for the stellar performance as you watched the hustle and waved at most of them. The adrenaline still surged through your veins, bubbling as intensely as your breath.

Your eyes met Noah’s just a few feet away. He seemed utterly oblivious to what the other band’s vocalist was saying, so focused was he on you. That familiar glimmer in his eyes was routine by now, and the soft wind barely stirred his long hair, lightened by the day’s glow.

It had been two years this month.

Two years of spending every day together from sunrise to sunset, and your stomach still fluttered whenever you caught his lips curving into a shy smile, as if it were your first date. The one that never actually happened thanks to the rain.

But you’d never been so grateful for it, for introducing you to him in his best and most vulnerable form. Just one look like the one he was giving you now—when your bodies collided against the damp ground after a dance without music—and you’d decided you needed to be his.

Since then, everything about the rain had become your shared trademark.

"Hey!" Jolly’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts. "There’s a radio team interviewing some of the bands performing today, and I managed to get you and Noah into a quick chat with them!"

He seemed thrilled, and his energy was infectious.

"That’s fantastic!"

"Yeah! I think it’s a great idea, and they’re already waiting!"

At the exit from the backstage area, near the trailers serving as dressing rooms for the bands, a crew stood with cameras, microphones, and a panel displaying the radio’s logo. Rock Radio was the main and most respected source for the genre, and the chance to speak with them falling into your lap was too good an opportunity to miss.

"This is my first introduction to Bad Omens, and I have to admit, your sound is incredible! How does it feel to play a festival for the first time?" the interviewer asked enthusiastically, directing the first question to Noah, who looked just as excited and still buzzing with post-show adrenaline.

"Surreal!" he began, gripping the microphone a little too tightly. "I couldn’t ask for better company when the entire band works so hard to be unique. They’re responsible for every single one of those claps, and we all feel like we truly deserve to be here after so much dedication to make this happen!"

"Amazing! The vocal alternation is truly fascinating, and you both execute it so naturally—it’s like you’re one!"

"None of this would happen without the most talented person I know." As he finished, you felt your face gradually warm as he wrapped an arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a hug. "It’s crazy, but I really see her voice as part of mine, and I feel like I could never do this alone. Without her, I’m just Noah."

Your attention instinctively turned upward, catching him smiling at you from the corner of his eyes. The interviewer pursed his lips, speechless for a moment, before refocusing, his gaze now entirely on you.

"Wow!" he exclaimed, smiling wide at you. "It’s undeniable—your voice is so unique, unlike anything the genre has seen before, especially when paired with the riffs and growls. Bad Omens has been around for two years, but do you still face challenges as a female vocalist in this space?"

"Well, ignoring some criticism doesn’t make it go away. I always try to filter whether the feedback is about my work or something I can improve…"

"Impossible, when she’s so good," Noah interrupted, tilting the mic toward him for a second.

"If it’s not…" You reclaimed the mic, shooting him a playful side-eye. "I do my best to disregard it. Honestly, the band has built a great fan base—open-minded, respectful, and always supportive of what we propose. That’s important to me because it helps me see if we’re on the right path."

"Impossible because she really is that good!" The interviewer couldn’t hold back his laughter, nor could you, as Noah cut in again, swiping the mic to emphasize with a raised finger.

"There’s no doubt who your number one fan is, huh?"

"We’re an excellent duo! I don’t think I could have done so well if he hadn’t believed in me first." Your eyes briefly wavered as they met his, then turned back to the interviewer, your teeth lightly biting your lower lip. "I owe Noah all the confidence in myself that I’ve been learning to embrace over time."

Butterflies danced in your stomach, fluttering back and forth. Your hand gripped the microphone tightly, nerves taking hold as you faced a camera and answered questions about yourself for the first time. Talking about him remained one of your favorite topics, and bringing him into the context of the interview made the atmosphere less tense.

The interview had been incredible, good enough to make it on the air, and a pleasant sensation tingled across your skin. Things were heading in the right direction, and you felt... happy.

The guys were gathered, helping the crew load the instruments into the van. Noah was coiling some cables, and the others signaled to each other to pick up the pace. Smoke escaped your lips as you watched them work like a colony of ants preparing for winter, flicking the ash from your cigarette onto the ground.

"We have exactly four hours to get to the next venue," Gerard approached, speaking on the phone as he handed you a flyer. It had the band's name and the time of their set later that night at a bar a few miles away. "The crew left another outfit for you in the dressing room. Change on the way."

"Wait." You called for his attention, and as he turned back to you, he put the phone aside and faced you completely. "What do you mean, another show in just a few hours?"

"This slot opened up to open for a friend’s band. They had hired someone else, but something came up, so I suggested you."

"We just performed, and doing this again in a four-hour window is too much for us!" Your fingers crumpled the flyer into a small ball before stuffing it into the pocket of your shirt. "If I’m not mistaken, you’re supposed to let us know when you're adding something to our schedule."

Gerard let out a loud sigh, scratching his left eyebrow with his index finger before leaning in to meet your height. His breath reeked of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot with some irritation, and his nostrils flared.

"Sweetheart, your memory should also remind you that your band is nothing right now. If you really want to make it, you need to stop dragging your feet," he growled.

"How about you get on stage and scream into a mic for two straight hours? Do that, and then tell me who’s dragging their feet!" Your voice was steady as you stepped forward. "Now, let’s talk about something interesting since you want to turn this into a business meeting, Gerard. What’s the revenue from the merch sold today at the festival?"

"Sales weren’t that great," he snapped back. "There’s still plenty of inventory left, which, by the way, is in the van."

"Along with the extra stock you brought without our permission?" Your eyes narrowed. "Am I wrong, or did you bring more pieces to intentionally create this excuse of poor sales to report the wrong figures?"

This wasn’t an empty accusation. You had taken advantage of your friends’ distraction after the interview and wandered around the festival until you stopped at the merch booth. Every single Bad Omens item had been sold, even though, suspiciously, the booth had been placed far away from the main crowd, almost as if it were meant to go unnoticed.

"You’re so insolent," Gerard muttered, shaking his head. "The revenue split will be discussed when we’re back in the office. You should get over yourself because if I really wanted to steal something, it wouldn’t be from someone as irrelevant as you!"

"Like your son’s band?" you shot back with a lazy smirk, watching his expression darken. "That might be a good option to take our place tonight because Bad Omens won’t be playing again today!"

"Everything is already set for this show, and your tantrum won’t change that. You don’t get to pick and choose jobs when your band is trying to make it, and you all signed a contract obligating you to appear at any event the label sets up!" He jabbed a finger at your chest. "I don’t care if you’re tired or if this pushes you to your limits. You will perform, and for every off-key note, I’ll dock your pay if you don’t do this show with the most enthusiasm of your life. Understood?"

That damn contract.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Gerard pull something from his pocket—a small packet with a single pill inside. Discreetly, he slipped it into your hand, clamping it shut with his own, holding your fist tightly.

"If you can’t handle the routine you signed up for, take a little incentive," he growled, tightening his grip to focus your attention. "But don’t forget—you’re required to give me a stellar performance no matter what you use to get there. See you in four hours."

Abruptly, he released you and sniffed sharply before walking away, leaving you alone with the unfamiliar object. Your eyes carefully studied your palm. Inside the packet, the light pink pill was small, marked by a single line across the top. You’d always hated taking medication, not even for headaches. The taste was awful, and your body took too long to dissolve this kind of stuff.

Outside the packaging, you kept studying that thing between your fingers. It had a rough texture and no discernible smell.

"Ready to go?" his voice startled you, and in an impulsive gesture, you shoved the pill into your mouth, swallowing it immediately. The bitter, unpleasant taste lingered on your palate, scratching down your throat. Noah watched as you slowly turned toward him, narrowing his eyes. "Hey, what's with that face?"

Noah chuckled, touching the tip of your nose with his finger to dissolve the strange expression you were making.

"Nothing." You forced a smile, squinting to hide the unease caused by that peculiar taste clawing at your throat. "Shall we?"

Growing up alone had placed the weight of solving every problem solely on your shoulders. There was no one to share the burden; wherever you looked, you only saw yourself. Crying for help or seeking support from someone wasn’t an option—your four walls reflected only one face: your own. The most painful part was having to build your own ground while learning to walk, with no support, no safety net—just the obligation to take firm, flawless steps.

Even surrounded by people who genuinely cared about you and wanted the best for you, something deeply rooted in your subconscious insisted that the problems in your life were exclusively yours. No one should cross that line. For you, relying on someone felt like selfishness; it was your responsibility to be strong enough to bear everything on your own, never asking for help.

The stage lights flickered in hues of orange and purple, creating an atmosphere that wavered between the real and the surreal. You stood at the center of it all, draped in a dark dress that clung to your body like a second skin, paired with high vinyl boots. Every movement felt calculated yet disconnected, as if an invisible force was pulling you into a parallel reality. No one noticed the peculiar gleam in your eyes—a reflection of whatever was coursing through your veins.

The first note left your throat like a whisper laced with melancholy. Your voice was flawless, slightly drawn out, as if trying to trap each syllable in the air before releasing it. You sang in a rhythm that fluctuated—sometimes slow, sometimes almost provocative, as if each verse were a confession. There was no fault in your pitch, yet something about the melody felt unusual—heavier, more intimate.

"Are you okay?" Noah asked discreetly during the intro of the next song. When your eyes locked onto his, a distorted vision took over—he seemed blurry, almost comical. "Hey, are you okay?"

"Of course I am!" You playfully shoved his broad shoulder, noticing his expression shift, though something prevented you from fully identifying it.

Surely, he was having as much fun as you.

Your steps, however, were a different story. Slowly, you crossed the stage with movements that defied balance, teetering between sensual and erratic. Each gesture carried an exaggerated languidness, a broken grace, as if you were dancing alone in a world only you could see.

"Are you with me tonight, aren’t you?" Your voice came out honeyed, laden with an unsettling charm, as your eyes scanned the crowd with a gaze that blended sweetness and debauchery.

Your sweaty hand gripped the microphone like a lover, pulling it closer to your lips as you laughed softly—for no apparent reason. “Ah... It’s so good to see such beautiful faces staring at me. You’re all so gorgeous. You have no idea how much…” The last word came out almost like a moan, leaving the audience caught between discomfort and fascination.

The beats of the music seemed to synchronize with whatever was happening inside you. As the song progressed, your movements became freer, more erratic, as though each note was guiding you further from where you were. But no one knew—or maybe didn’t want to know—that there was something more to this night.

You were the star, and even under an influence that made the world spin in strange ways, you were too perfect for anyone to question it.

“What the hell was that earlier?” Noah’s tone carried a sharp edge, and you froze before him. In your mind, ever since you left the stage, nothing had been wrong. You were a star. “Are you hearing me?”

“Why are you talking so loudly?” Your body leaned backward, and he caught you before you could collapse onto the table with the water bottles.

Noah leaned closer to your mouth and sniffed—a gesture you clearly misinterpreted as you tried to kiss him, only for him to turn his face away.

“There’s no smell of alcohol, so why are you acting like this?”

“STOP BEING SUCH A BORING!” you shouted suddenly, wrenching your arm free from his grip. “Holy crap, you’re so annoying sometimes! Why can’t you just enjoy things without ruining the fun all the time?”

He stood there, analyzing everything coming out of your mouth as if looking at a stranger. Your heartbeat was so fast it felt like your heart might burst from your chest at any moment.

“What kind of joke is this?” he asked, stepping back when you tried to approach. “Why are you treating me this way?”

“When you try to fit me into a box like I’m just a piece of a Rubik’s Cube, I feel…” you began, but the words seemed to die on your lips as sweat trickled down your temple.

“You feel?” he pressed, his tone firmer. “Say it!”

“Suffocated.”

For the first time in two years, you saw him look at you with different eyes. They didn’t shine with the fervent passion you were used to seeing, nor the euphoria of your presence. Noah’s eyes held disappointment.

“I heard some shouting outside and thought it was strange coming from you guys…” Ruffilo’s voice cut through the tension as you both stared each other down. “But you’re just joking around, right?”

“We’re definitely not,” Noah replied without taking his eyes off you.

Sniffling to regain his composure, he stormed out of the backstage area as swiftly as a gust of furious wind, leaving you and Ruffilo in a painful silence.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @iluvmewwwww75 ; @anarchydomainglory ; @foliosgirl ; @lma1986 ; @chey-h ; @supersquirrel1996 ; @zozaline ;

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Smutty dialogue and dirty talk

I was chatting with a good friend about dirty talk (as one does). We were discussing the things we like and dislike, the things we wish our partners would say, and the things that are absolutely not for us. And because of this, I was thinking about how tricky dirty talk is, not just in real life, but also in writing.

On occasion, people have DMed me to ask for advice on writing smutty dialogue. While I'm in no way an expert, I have written a fair amount of smut, and of course, I made my name writing this bit of filth, which is entirely dirty talk. So I do have at least some experience.

When I was a wee little DJ, I used to steal magazines from my older sister and hide with a flashlight to read the sex advice column, as curious little DJs are wont to do. I don't remember any of it EXCEPT for one column that has stuck with me for the last *cough cough* decades.

A reader requested advice, saying that their partner had asked them to talk dirty, and they were struggling with what to say. They said it felt unnatural and awkward, and they could never think of anything to say in the moment. The columnist came through with some truly excellent advice.

They suggested starting out simple: "I love the way your X feels in/on my Y."*

The columnist said that eventually the words would start to flow as they became more comfortable with talking in bed, but that the most important thing was just to be honest about how their partner made them feel. Honesty is the key to making dirty talk feel natural and authentic instead of forced and rehearsed. It's about connecting with your partner(s), not about putting on a performance.

And that's exactly how it works with writing, too. The key to writing great smutty dialogue, in my opinion, isn't to try to force it to be the dirtiest, most explicit thing ever (not that there's anything wrong with that). It's to just let your characters say how they feel in that moment.

It doesn't need to be a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love; it can be as simple as, "Damn, you have an incredible [body part of choice]," or just feedback like, "Don't stop," "God, you feel good," "Harder," "I love the way you taste," "Do that again," or, "Right there, just like that." Don't underestimate the impact of a well-timed curse, either. And if a flowery, heartfelt declaration of eternal love is what feels right in the moment, go for it! It's your story, and you can write it however you want.

*Note that neither X nor Y have to always refer to genitalia or even necessarily to body parts. I'll be reblogging with examples, but I'm keeping this post reasonably SFW.

Sexy, smutty taglist:

@523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @merkitty49 @arcsimper5 @clio3kantarella

@cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @sunshinesdaydream

@littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @marierg @idontgetanysleep @lonewolflupe

@moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine

@multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam

@skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @cw80831 @flyiingsly

@lightwise @swcowgal @vrycurious @thora-sniper @returnofthepineapple

@reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @starstofillmydream @msmeredithrose

@totallyunidentified @eclec-tech @euphoriacafe @hipwell @kimiheartblade

@dangraccoon @transactivecybermemory @etod @ivyyyyy @somewhere-on-kamino

@burningnerdchild @saneabandoned @heidnspeak @maniacalbooper @rebell-ious