#this sport has and always will be a circus

[tutuandscoot]

(Heads up this is not vm related)

I’m fascinated by how freaking messy figure skating is:

So in Beijing 2022, Vanessa James and Eric Radford competed for Canada. She had previously competed for Great Britain and France, but is Canadian, and Eric obviously competed with Meghan Duhamel- they won gold, silver and bronze at the olys and 2 world titles. J/R got together only a few months before the olys and famously caused a massive falling out between D/R, (who were still professional skaters but Meghan was pregnant during this whole series of events- I believe) completely screwed over an up and coming and much more deserving Canadian team preventing them from going to the olys (the girl in that partnership subsequently quit skating). J/R at these olys were coached by Julie Marcotte- French-Canadian coach and choreographer- sister of former pairs skater Bruno Marcotte, the HUSBAND of Meghan and D/R’s coach when they competed. Bruno was in Beijing with the team he and Meghan coach: Miura/Kihara from Japan.

So there is a brother and sister here who are coaching different teams- Bruno is the husband of Eric’s former partner who “dumped her” for Vanessa supposedly based on during a skating show trying a throw triple something and her landing it..

Omg what a shit show of a sport 😂🤦‍♀️

[uniformbravo]

i love tsurune i love tsurune i love tsurune i love tsurune i

[blorbocedes]

lando norris and nico rosberg chat after p2 finish at chinese grand prix 24

nico: we have a race, the two of us. because you're at 108. I won when I was at 111, my first race. so your time is coming

lando: I like your -- you're very positive. I'm the opposite, I'm always very negative.

nico, of all people, knows what it's like being a solid midfielder without winning that first race for so long and also recognizes the block it is for lando who hides behind self deprecating jokes and hypes him up. esp when you consider lando has been vocal ab drivers' mental health and nico himself did sports therapy and knows you can't survive in the f1 media circus while downplaying yourself.

it is super refreshing to see someone from the previous generation actually support the younger drivers instead of adding more pressure to it

[thelostconsultant]

Down Bad

pairing: Lando Norris x reader, but the point of the story is that Max is madly in love - which is one-sided

summary: Lando starts dating a woman he loves more than anything, but when Max gets to know you, he has to realize that he needs you like air.

warnings: stupid behavior, intoxication. Oh, and it's unedited.

part two

It was quite ridiculous how Lando’s shoulder began to hurt after a bad move he made while golfing. Max knew an injury was in the cards with every sport, but this? This involuntarily made him laugh when his friend wasn’t around. Not because he was rude, he just always imagined golf to be relatively safe. Hitting a ball that was still on the ground didn’t sound nearly as dangerous as driving an F1 car. 

Then Lando went to see a physiotherapist specialized in helping athletes to fix the problem, and the Dutch had to listen to endless stories about how much you helped him, how beautiful you were, how kind you were with every single person who came for your help, and how amazing your sense of humor was. After three months it became quite tiring, but he never complained. This little crush made Lando happy, and as long as he felt that way, he was willing to listen.

He never told him your full name, and he didn’t show any photos, as if you were his precious little secret, someone who he decided to shelter from this part of his life. It became obvious that this was the case when therapy was over and he asked you out on a date. You hesitated, telling him that his life was too much for you, you didn’t want to be someone the media and fans talked about, so he promised to make sure you could stay away from the circus. 

It was only four months into your relationship, just at the beginning of the summer break, that Max got to meet you in person. Lando jumped in with you by his side, saying you were having lunch nearby and he had to ask him something that couldn’t wait. This is when the trouble began, the moment you flashed that friendly smile at him as you shook his hand. His eyes always found their way back to you during the conversation, watching you even when it was your boyfriend talking. 

Because you were naturally beautiful. You looked nothing like those girls in the paddock with their heavy makeup and designer clothes, you looked perfectly normal and down-to-earth. Your voice was like music to his ears, just like a siren’s song that made him want to get on his knees in front of you to confess his undying love for you. How could you have such a strong effect on him? Was it because he had already known so much about you thanks to Lando’s stories? Or was it something else? Was it love at first sight?

Things only got worse with time. Lando began to ease you into events that involved his friends from the paddock, so Max saw you on a regular basis during the break. And every single time he found himself back home drunk and alone, lying on his bed with his hand inside his jeans as he touched himself at the thought of you, his moans muffled by the pillow he bit on. He imagined you coming home with him, showing him how much you loved him, wanted him. And every single time he was cleaning up his mess, he felt ashamed for thinking about his friend’s girlfriend like this. 

One day he was over at Lando’s place, sitting in front of his friend’s computer to log into one of his accounts when you walked in with two glasses of lemonade and handed one to each of them. Max only flashed a thankful smile at you before turning back to the screen, hoping this would avert his thoughts for a while. But just as he began to type something, he suddenly felt a hand on his shoulder and he smelled your sweet perfume, which was followed by a short laugh next to his ear. When he turned his head to look at you, his breath caught in his throat. 

“Is that really how you type?” you asked with a teasing smile. When he nodded with a confused look on his face and asked you why, you just straightened up and shrugged. “My fifty-six year old aunt types faster than this, and she sees a keyboard like twice a month.”

He had no idea how to react. He knew it was a joke, and he knew you didn’t mean to offend him, but deep down he only wanted to hear you compliment him, he needed to know if you thought he did something right. He wanted to impress you, he wanted you to be proud of him. But then Lando began to chuckle as he walked closer and wrapped an arm around your waist to pull you against his body. 

“You should give him lessons, baby,” he suggested as he placed a soft kiss on your cheek. Then he turned back to Max. “She’s crazy fast when it comes to typing. I have absolutely no idea how she does it, but it’s amazing.”

Max took a deep breath and forced a smile on his face. He wanted to say something, maybe crack a joke, but nothing came to his mind. Lando was in love with you, it was painfully obvious, and you seemed equally enamored with him. How could he compete with that? So he quickly finished what he was doing, logged out from everywhere, then said goodbye and went home to figure out what to do now. 

His home race was just around the corner, he had to get a grip on himself again, because you sure as hell would show up in the paddock one day, and what then? Maybe you were like a poison, he just needed small doses to get used to you and become immune in the end. You loved Lando, and Lando loved you. He wasn’t a part of the equation, he had to understand this. 

Yes, he was an idiot. He was self-aware enough to know what he was about to do was reckless and stupid, but maybe this small dose theory wasn’t as bad as it first seemed. This is why he was now standing in the waiting room of the clinic where you worked, waiting for his appointment with you. He was okay, nothing hurt, but for the sake of a conversation and some alone time with you, he was willing to say his hand caused him pain. Just a little white lie, nothing serious. 

He instinctively locked his phone and looked up when he heard a familiar sound, your melodic laughter that came from a nearby hallway. And within seconds you appeared, beautiful like a dream, and he jumped up to greet you even though you hadn’t noticed him yet. He was too excited to control himself, which is why the moment your previous patient left, he walked up to you with a stupid smile on his face. 

“Max, hi,” you said happily before giving him a hug. 

It took all of his willpower not to wrap his arms around you and rest his chin on top of your head as he held you close, feeling the warmth that radiated from your body. Instead he politely squeezed your shoulder quickly before stepping away to give you some space. “Thank you for finding the time for me, I guess you have a tight schedule,” he said with a sheepish smile. 

But you just waved your hand to tell him it was okay, then motioned towards the hallway you came from. “Come on, let’s see that hand,” you said as you began to walk. 

Max followed you like a shadow, standing awkwardly in your examination room as he waited for your instructions. This was your domain, he was just a guest, and he was more than happy to follow your orders. At this point you could have asked him to do anything, even to show you his bank card details, and he would have done it without hesitation. You pointed at a chair next to your desk, and once you both sat down, you rolled over to him, one of your knees between his legs to be closer to him. 

As you took a look at his right hand that was injured as far as you knew, he had to focus on his breathing. You chose a different perfume for today, something that was a nice floral scent that invaded his brain, making it all he could think about. When your pretty eyes finally turned to him, he tilted his head to the side and watched you with an intrigued look. “So, what should we do about this?” he asked you. 

Leaning back, you wanted to push yourself away from him, but he didn’t let go of your hand and just yanked you back gently. You seemed surprised at first, but then you nodded and gulped. “Well, I couldn’t feel anything irregular, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it was related to simulators and video games,” you said with a teasing smile. “I’ve heard esport athletes complaining about the same kind of pain in their hands, so I guess this is what we’re dealing with. I’ll show you a few exercises you can do at home, but we can also find a slot in the evening that’s okay for you, and I can jump in to help. As you said, my schedule here is pretty tight, and you’re Lando’s friend, so the least I can do is be flexible about the when and where.”

Fuck, if you only knew what was going on in his mind at this very moment. Maybe it would scare you away, because he couldn’t help thinking about having you at his home alone, and how he wanted that ‘flexible about the when and where’ part to be about clandestine meetings with you. He wanted to be your dark secret, your partner in crime in an affair that you both had to hide from Lando, but right now you weren’t ready for it. Your first thought was Lando, not him. You were doing this for your boyfriend, because you valued him enough to know he cared about his friends. 

It was killing him. Waiting for you as he paced the living room as a caged predator, he couldn’t help but envy his cats who were minding their business somewhere in the apartment. They didn’t have to deal with the pain of being desperately in love with their friend’s girlfriend, the only person who was supposed to be off-limits. When you finally arrived, he had to force a smile on his face, acting like everything was okay, like he wasn’t on the verge of a nervous breakdown. 

Things went well for a while, but then as you sat on the couch, drinking a glass of wine that you accepted as a token of gratitude, Max couldn’t keep his stupid mouth shut. “Lando is lucky to have you. I wish I could find a girl who was as nice, and caring, and funny, and intelligent, and sweet as you are,” he said out of nowhere. 

You slowly pulled the glass away from your lips and put it on the coffee table. “Where did this come from?” you asked, your chest heaving from your sped up breathing. 

He was cursing himself in his head, knowing full well you were seconds away from running out of his home. How could he be this stupid? But what was the point of going on with his life as if he didn’t have feelings for you? He could just as well come clean about it, finally getting it off his chest so he would know if he was crazy for thinking you could be interested. And if you decide to go no contact with him… Well, at least he would know he never had a chance. 

“You and Lando are good together, you make him happy. But,” he began, stopping for a moment to get his thoughts in order. “So I just… Ever since I met you, ever since I got to know you better, I can’t help but wonder what if you loved me instead. You are one of the most amazing women I’ve ever met, I can’t even imagine living my life without you. If you gave me a chance, just one chance to prove how good we could be together–”

You raised a hand to stop him. “Max, just don’t. Don’t fantasize about something you can never have. Don’t torture yourself, please,” you asked him with a strange smile as you put a hand on his arm. But how could he stop? He was way past the point of no return. Before he could speak up again, though, you started talking. “You’re a great guy, you’ll find someone who makes you happy. It’s just… not me.”

“Why can’t you love me? He doesn’t have to know, I can keep a secret, I promise,” he said, his voice now pathetically desperate. But he couldn’t stop himself, even if he was making a fool of himself. 

Without answering, you nodded a few times and gulped, then leaned over to press a soft kiss on his cheek before standing up and taking a few steps towards the door. Max was frozen in his seat, still under the effect of that kiss, but he truly felt like he was stabbed with a dagger when you said, “This conversation never happened. I don’t want Lando to find out about your feelings.” 

And with that, you simply walked out of his apartment, leaving him behind with the feeling of defeat and shame, and the flurry of thoughts that didn’t let him sleep that night. The next few days weren’t any better, really. He spent them locked inside his apartment, only leaving it for half an hour to pick up what he ordered for lunch, but other than that, he was on his own. No phone calls, no streams, nothing. 

But one night he hit rock bottom and began to drink, and he drank a lot, and when he was almost crying from the pain he felt in his heart, he had the not-so-bright idea to take some painkillers that would surely help with that. He wasn’t in the right state of mind to think, but he was good enough to type in a series of messages to you. Messages that were full of mistakes, and sentences that didn’t always make sense, and his thoughts that all revolved around you. When you asked him if he was drunk, he replied, ‘drunk and high,’ because those pain meds were the good stuff from a previous injury. 

Though he didn’t expect anything, half an hour later there was a knock on his door, and when he saw it was you, he quickly wrapped his arms around your body. “You came. You love me,” he mumbled with his face buried into the crook of your neck. 

With a groan, you pushed him inside and closed the door behind you. “What did you take?” you asked him with your arms folded. 

“Are you mad at me?” he slurred, but when he saw your pointed look, he let out a long sigh. “Painkillers. Really good painkillers.”

“How much?” 

This made him think, but then he began to count on his fingers and held up a hand. “Five. I think.”

You shook your head as you grabbed his arm and began to drag him towards the bathroom. “You need to throw them up, so go ahead, smartass,” you ordered him. 

Max tried to give you the puppy eyes, hoping you weren’t serious, but then you threatened him that you would shove your finger down his throat if he didn’t do it himself, so he groaned and got to making himself vomit. It was disgusting, the taste in his mouth was enough to make him want to throw up again, but he chose to brush his teeth instead. You stood there in the door with your arms folded over your chest, watching him with a disapproving look on your face. 

After you successfully convinced him to stay in bed for the rest of the night, you brought him lots of water and made him drink some. If you were simply worried about him, he would have been really happy, because that would mean you cared about him, but in reality you were both worried and incredibly mad, which wasn’t a good combination. So he crawled over to you on the bed and lied down so his head would be on your lap. 

“Sorry, schatje,” he mumbled as he looked at you, waiting for the room to finally stop spinning. 

Your eyes watched him closely, full of anger and disappointment, but then he felt your hand in his hair and it made him smile like a satisfied cat. “You’re such a moron, Max,” you groaned. 

“I love you so much that it makes me stupid,” he admitted. 

“No doubt.”

He watched you in silence for a while, enjoying the way your fingertips massaged his scalp, and somewhere along the way he fell asleep. Later in the night he woke up, only to see you were still there with him, curled up at the end of the bed with your phone next to your head. He moved closer to you, this time choosing to be the one who ran his fingers through your hair, letting his thumb brush over your cheek as he placed a clumsy kiss on your temple.

You stirred in your sleep, but didn’t wake up, for which he was grateful. All he wanted was some time with you when you couldn’t tell him that you didn’t love him, when you couldn’t push him away, and when he could honestly tell you how he felt about you. 

Little did he know it was only your phone’s screen that went dark, the caller on the other end of the line you had been talking to before dozing off was still there, listening to every word.

[epiicaricacy-arts]

oh we’re still so young, desperate for attention

this was super experimental so i will talk about my process (+ clearer version) under the cut

i’ve been looking at a lot of “messier” or more textured painting styles recently and an artist that stuck out to me is clariondeluna ! they posted a self-portrait recently that i really liked and i was super interested in the brushwork seen in their work. i love all the textures and how the shapes feel so loose yet everything is so detailed.

that’s not a method for me at all!!!! i cannot paint like that at all and the stuff i like to paint is very different to theirs. which is okay!!!! i had no intention to copy this artists style so closely like with what i tried to do in my raiden painting, i just wanted to try this style out :^)

it’s been a goal of mine to avoid over-rendering like i tend to do a lot, and i think i’ve been doing good with that recently! the mindset i’ve got going on right now is that if i find myself staring at it too hard for too long, i have to leave it and move on. if there’s still something wrong with it, i can fix it later once ive got a fresh view!

i’ve been trying a lot of things with my art this year. i always try to challenge myself with each piece, and to end the year off i wanted to be as uncomfortable as i possibly could be with this painting. i let myself draw whatever i wanted because i still wanted to enjoy it, but everything i did in this process was new, including parts of the subject matter.

i’ve never drawn a head at an angle like this, and i struggle with drawing mouths open. i don’t do bold lighting like this, and if i do, it’s not fire. i’ve never drawn fire! i also rarely work with warm colours and i hate using green, so i combined those to be my colour palette. i like working cleanly so instead of having a dozen different layers for one section, each section only had 1-2 layers for rendering. instead of clipping masks i would simply paint over things loosely and clean it up later. i never like having limbs cut off in a drawing so i had his other arm go GOD knows where. i don’t like weird patterned backgrounds so i made myself figure out how to like it!

IS THIS MY FAVOURITE PIECE OF ALL TIME. no. absolutely not. but i’m very proud of how this came out with all the challenges i put on myself. i WANTED to get better at these things and be more broad with my art, both in terms of the styles and subjects i portray.

okay let’s talk about wtf this drawing is

for those who don’t know, the design in this painting is my fatui/“Father” lyney fan design (read the design post here). the concept isnt super complicated and i don’t really have much explanation for it, but i wanted to combine the story of how lyney wanted a delusion before getting his vision, fire eating circus acts and how olympic medalists will bite their medal to prove it’s real??? don’t quote me on that i’m like 75% sure that’s a thing that happens. i don’t watch sports though so im just believing someone i heard on the internet ages ago.

anyways. i think fire eating acts are cool. and i think the fact that lyney wanted a delusion is very interesting to me. scratches my brain in the right places. and yk as a magician lyneys character revolves a lot around fooling people and creating illusions so i guess what im saying here is that lyney is trying to prove to himself that this power he’s been bestowed is real. bc his whole life his only constant has been lynette so he is trying to see if he can trust this new power. cause i guess this is an alternate universe where lyney does eventually become “Father” but he never got his vision ??? idk im not making lore for this i just wanted to dress up this funny little guy.

ok i’m done

thanks for reading

here’s my dog

[amberjazmyn]

decade 💔🥹

pairing : f1 grid x driver!reader

summary :  aston martin driver elouisa holland is great at keeping her composure in front of the judgemental and ruthless eyes of the formula 1 media circus. that is until she gets asked about why she only has her mum and siblings at her races but not her dad even though everytime she did speak about her dad, it was positive. those who knew why her dad wasn't present at races were worried for how elouisa would respond until the room fell silent when she explained since they clearly couldn't understand or recognise the tense in which she spoke about him. 

warnings : mention of parental death, dark humour, f1 grid press conference, driver x female!reader, platonic x f1 grid, driver reader x max verstappen

a/n :  i have to admit, this was slightly self-indulgent because, fyi, my own father died a decade ago this year and this is exactly what i feel like i'd respond with if someone asked me where my dad was if i talked about him in such a positive light and them not recognising the tense in which i spoke about him. and, also, yes, i have elouisa as an aston martin driver because, no hate but, i'm not the biggest fan of lance stroll so he's just not part of the grid and elouisa is instead but all the other drivers are still in the grid though with a special guest appearance of sebastian vettel. 

it wasn't a shock to find out that the media circus involved with formula one was invasive and sometimes brutal. asking questions that people would think would be off-limits from asking however, within f1, no question was off-limits since there were no secrets within the sport. not even questions about personal matters like their families or their love lives since majority of the drivers had relationships that whilst weren't technically secret but on the private side and other personal matters in their life were safe from media scrutiny. things that didn't even relate to being a formula one driver would be asked instead of the more important questions like how they felt about their car or how the race itself went. and of course, because of these nosy reporters who always wanted clicks and the best and juciest headlines, all the drivers on the f1 grid was put through some form of pr media training so they'd always have the perfect response that would also still give them some privacy as well as preparing them for the harshest of harsh questions without lashing out and gracefully rerouting the conversation back to the original topic of racing. so, if they were responding to a question that was quite invasive and teetered on the line of a privacy violation, they didn't give too much away and they weren't giving the reporter the exact response that they so desperately wanted. and, most of the times, it worked perfectly and the drivers hadn't had their whole lives being plastered over the internet. however, for the first time, elouisa holland's pr training did not come and save her because no matter how hard she tried giving the intrusive reporter her pr media trained responses, he still wasn't satisfied and kept on pressing her for a better answer then the one he had been given. 

so, because of that, she decided to tell the truth and it was a hard truth that would also make many people uncomfortable but, elouisa had been pushed too hard and too far and unfortunately, it was with the entire f1 grid around her alongside the nosy reporters. who most of them already knew the unfortunate reason why her dad wasn't seen around the paddock during grand prixs and why whilst she always spoke lovingly of her dad, she always spoke about him in the past tense. and that was because elouisa's dad died when she was only eleven years old when she was still karting alongside some of those who she now shares the f1 grid with. 

however, that's not how the press conference started. it had actually started as an amazing group interview with all of the drivers, all twenty of them, all bunched up together on the teeny tiny couch. all of them giggling and making jokes with one another and the interviewers and the moderator. elouisa was sat in the middle of red bull's max verstappen and ferrari's carlos sainz jr, verstappen on her right and sainz jr to her left. the three of them were giggling amongst each other and it was during that moment of the three of them giggling that the invasive interviewer, a man who was like at least a couple decades older than elouisa, asked her the one question she had always managed to skirt around giving a proper answer and avoid. 

however, the moment her head looked away from max and carlos and over at the interviewer, it was as though she already knew what question he would be asking. and that was before she had even lifted her head up and before he had even opened his mouth to say anything. 

"you always speak about your dad in such a positive light but we never see him around the paddock or at any of the grand prixs. if he's so great and so loved by you, then why doesn't he make any effort in supporting his daughter in a sport that for so many years, was male dominated and still is considered to be. as the only female driver on the grid, it has to upset you that majority of the drivers have their entire family with them to support them but you don't. especially with the consideration that you are actually quite a talented driver and really getting up there in the status of a legend. but, this is something you always avoid and never answer properly so why are you always talking so happily about your dad but when you get asked why he's never here to watch you drive, you always avoid and deflect, why is that?" elouisa should have prepared herself better but, she genuinely thought reporters were getting bored of asking this question because of the fact she always avoided it

however, this crusty old man was persistent and it seemed as though by his stance and the look on his face, that he wasn't going to back down until he got the answer he desired. but, of course, elouisa wasn't going to back down either so, she started to respond with the same old, media trained answers that she had always used every single time. 

"my dad and the reason why he doesn't turn up to races has no connection to where i am now as a formula one driver. this isn't a question you would ask to someone like max or to charles so why am i the only one being questioned on this topic other than the obvious that i'm a female and they're men? if you have a better question that is actually in relation to this weekend's grand prix, i will happily answer it but, any other non-related grand prix questions, will be ignored, thank you..." elouisa trailed off, placing the microphone in her hand back into her lap as she smiled over at max who gave her a worried look

elouisa knew that the guy was going to keep on trying, it was obvious. however, she didn't want anyone to notice just how bothered she got when people constantly asked about her father and why he was always mentioned but never seen. 

like mentioned before, she was eleven when her father died. and for the longest time, after the death of her father, it was as though her life went by ever so slowly. she wasn't sure how she was still alive because she never really remembered much from ages eleven to eighteen since those years just culminated together all into one. of course, she liked to say that she was the happiest she had ever been from her formula 2 days in 2020 and onwards but, everyone knew she was still struggling deep down. since the loss of her father, she developed an anxiety disorder that was then rediagnosed as ptsd since panic attacks would always strike the australian girl at the worst and most inconvient of times. however, they never bothered her when she was racing or in interviews which she always thought was suspicious considering just how much more dangerous formula one racing was then anything else that she had going on in her life. at eighteen, she made her formula one debut with torro rosso even though it was only just for that debuting performance. after debuting with torro rosso, she moved to renault and then alfa romeo within the same year since the two teams fought over her, spending one half of the year with renault and then the other with alfa romeo. then, aston martin contacted her for a multi-year contract which she couldn't turn down as they had been renamed and brought back after changing their name from racing point to aston martin. and because they knew alfa romeo were never going to keep her for longer than the second half of her rookie season. and in late 2021, elouisa would be the number one driver of aston martin alongside fernando alonso. 

even though elouisa seemed to smile a lot in regards to talking about her dad, it always killed her a little inside because she always spoke about him in the past tense, reminding her of that solemn fact that, her dad was truly never going to come back. no matter how many times she wanted to forget or pretend that his death was just a mean prank that went too far. of course she did. how else would she talk about her dad who was no longer walking the earth anymore? besides, it had accidentally become a habit that she never wanted to get into in the first place. of course she wished her dad was still alive. it was the same for her best friend, charles leclerc, who drove for ferrari. his dad had also passed away but charles was a lot older, he was nineteen and a year away from getting his formula one contract. so he knew the very pain that elouisa went through every single day when she would look and see the other drivers have both of their parents be present for them at every race. it was something she had always longed for and even sometimes loathed her mum for. she had always wanted her mum to fall in love again and when she didn't, it made her slightly hate her mum for not wanting to try to love someone new again just because she was afraid of the same thing happening again. it hurt elouisa to see her mum just blantly ignore her children when they begged and cried out for more than just their mum. only their youngest brother a mummy's boy. the rest of the siblings obsessed with their dad which caused four of the five siblings way more grief from the loss. 

it brought a painful ache into elouisa's heart every single time she remembered the words she said moments after the death of her dad had been announced. the first thing that fell out of little eleven year old elouisa's mouth was 'when am i getting a new dad?'. and even though she was now twenty-one, it was still something that haunted her every waking hour knowing that those were the first words that came out of her mouth. she was eleven, not a baby, yet she was still so clueless about death being final. that death meant the person wasn't going to come back. and now that she was older, she understood why little eleven year old elouisa said what she said. she said those words because she never wanted to be living a life without a father in her life. whether that was her biological father or a father that stepped up and fell in love with her mum and her five children. 

however, that never happened. elouisa's mum never fell in love and it was still something that elouisa would pick fights with her mum about. calling her mum selfish because she's too scared to fall in love again. reminding her that she can't stay miserable forever and that it's not a crime to try again and give her family the stability that they've been missing for the last decade. 

blinking back the cruel truth of elouisa's life, she was pulled back into the press conference as the intrusive interviewer asked her the question again, "i'll ask you again, why are you always avoiding questions that involve your father's obnoxious absences from the races? if a father loved his daughter so much, he wouldn't be avoiding all of her races so where is your father and why are you avoiding answering questions about his whereabouts?" the interviewer asked sharply, waiting for the moment elouisa would crack under the pressure he put her under 

everyone just watching in wait. the drivers beside her all holding their breath as they never truly knew how elouisa would respond or react when asked about her dad. whether she'd laugh hysterically and insert dark humour jokes, in a bid to cover up her uncomfortability. whether she'd cry because it was a day in which she really missed her dad. or if she'd just be nonchalant and continue to ignore the interviewer. however, this time, it was clear that elouisa was equipped with the perfect answer. the answer that no one was ready for because of how brutally honest and uncomfortable it was. 

giggling under her breath, it seemed to excite elouisa that she could finally throw away all of her pr media training and just make this absolute asshole of an interviewer uncomfortable, "sir, i have a question for you, do you have a dad?" elouisa starts as the interviewer is shocked at getting questioned himself but he quickly recovers and nods his head 

"yes, i do, elouisa, why?" the interviewer questioned as elouisa smirked, her plan was working as the drivers looked at her slightly worried - max holding her hand moreso for his own comfort than hers 

"well, when you talk about your dad, which tense do you talk about him in? present or past?" elouisa questions as the interviewer was still confused but not those around him as they all went into a solemn silence 

"present? i don't know, why are you asking?" he huffed, his arms crossed over like a child as elouisa giggled once again as she shook her head 

"okay, good to know your dad is still alive and kicking, sir. i say that because, if any of you interviewers really did your job and did it well enough, you would have picked up on the tense in which i use to speak about my dad..." elouisa trailed off, her head turned to the side as the other interviewers bit their lips in a bid to not make any noises of shock as they finally realised the way in which she spoke about her dad when she did talk about him 

however, this stupid man didn't. he didn't make the connection because it was always this one interviewer that always asked and asked and prodded but never actually paid attention to what was being said and how it was being said. he only cared about his intrusivity being listened to and responded to so he could get the content and reactions he needed for his big stories. 

"...okay, and? what's the tense in which you speak about your father got to do with this question that you always avoid?" the interviewer questioned in slight stupidity as elouisa sighed, her eyes rolling as she reaised she really would have to spell it out for him 

"fuck me...sir, if you were slightly smarter and actually paid attention to the things i post on social media on days like birthdays and annviersaries and why i never respond to your abhorrent questions, as well as paid attention to anything that is seen on my racing helmets, you would know that my dad has been dead for an entire decade...that's why no one in this interview pen has seen my dad except for the other current and former drivers on the grid because when i was eleven, i was still in karting. at eleven, i hadn't even realised that i wanted to reach formula 1 let alone any of the others. if you paid enough attention instead of focusing on the disgusting and intrusive questions to write your big story about, you would be knowledgeable in the news that my dad's dead, mate. like, he's dead dead. like he's so dead that i don't even think i can remember what he sounds like anymore..." elouisa trailed off as the entire press conference fell silent except for some of elouisa's giggles and the clicks of cameras and the one filming the press conference live 

after finally getting the response that the interviewer so desperately needed, he gulped back in embarrassment. his entire face went red and his mouth fell into a straight line as though someone had zipped it shut. he didn't know how to respond and elouisa found it hilarious. she loved when she shut down the ignorant and intrusive reporters because they always reacted the same exact way that this interviewer was reacting. but, it didn't take long before the interviewer then started to try and save his arse. 

"...i...i'm so sorry. i...i didn't know that your dad..." he stammered as elouisa held her hand up, making him stop talking and he did, however it was max's voice that spoke up next, not elouisa's

"...cut the crap, mate. it's obvious you're not truly sorry because if you were, you would have stopped intruding the first time elouisa avoiding responding to your inflammatory questions! if you were that good of an interviewer as you boast to be, you would know that constant nagging isn't going to get you the answer you long for, it's going to end in the same way this press conference has ended. with a driver being pushed to their limit and giving the truth that you so wish for in the most uncomfortable and confronting way possible because you just couldn't stop prodding and poking for a response. but, well done anyway i guess, cause you got what you wished for, right? you now know why elouisa's dad isn't seen around the paddock even though elouisa still talks about him," max was not playing around, he was furious as were the rest of the drivers on the grid but, no one could see the steam that was billowing from the ears of newly retired f1 racer, sebastian vettel 

sebastian had retired but he was still as ever present around the paddock when he was able to be. and at this grand prix, he just happened to be watching the press conference from the very back with nico rosberg, former f1 driver now journalist and they, nico and sebastian, were pissed. the both of them had seen elouisa holland grow up and see how she went through her life without her father present and how it devastated her. how the grief was always ever present around her when she did everything. if these pesty journalists actually did their jobs and paid more attention to things, they would have seen the very clear memorial that the aussie girl has in honour of her father on her helmet in the same way carlos has maria di villota's red star on the back of every one of his helmets or the way charles always pays tribute to his father and godfather, jules bianchi. if they had just noticed these things, they wouldn't have needed to ask these questions but, they probably still would have because they loved to prod and try to break down the only female on the grid to test just how mentally strong she was up against the male drivers. they always did it on purpose because they wanted to prove that girls shouldn't be allowed in formula one and elouisa was their scapegoat every single time. however, this time, elouisa knew what they tried to do and she wasn't going to allow them this time. 

and that made both sebastian and nico proud of their girl. it made the entire grid proud of their girl. they knew from the beginning that elouisa was not the person to mess with but, people still tried yet, as the saying goes, you fuck around and you find out. and this time, this particular journalist did just that. he fucked around and he found out and he wished he never fucked around. and since max let the interviewer have it, it seemed as though he, elouisa and the rest of the drivers were no longer interested in finishing the press conference so they all stood up and, in solidarity for their fellow driver, they all walked out of the press conference. leaving the poor moderator, who was the sweetest guy in the world, all on his own in a room filled with reporters, having no clue what to do since this was being filmed live with no way of editing or cutting anything out. unless the camerman just decided to cut the cameras entirely before moving onto the rest of the grand prix weekend. which, is what the camerman decided to do anyway. the press conference had begun to drag a little too long and it was no longer the light, fun and easy-going press conference that it had started out as. 

as the drivers left the press conference, a breath of air just seemed to evaporate around them. what were they meant to do now? they couldn't remember what was next on the agenda. then, out of nowhere, elouisa bursts into incontrollable giggles. and, this of course, confused the others because how on earth was what just happened that funny? but, they knew not to question her so they also started giggling and the awkwardness just went away. 

finally, elouisa calmed down as she rested against max, "...mate, the look on that old dude's face when i told him that my dad was dead dead was hilarious!" elouisa sighed with the biggest smile on her face - the purest of trauma responses as the other drivers looked at her 

"it for sure stumped him from saying anything else, that's for sure!" lewis chuckled softly as he shook his head as elouisa nodded her head 

"it was supposed to! i said it for that exact reason! i wasn't going to sugarcoat it since it wasn't the first time old mate was begging for my response and he finally got it!" elouisa shrugged her shoulders as max sighed and pulled her closer to him 

"and that's why i love you, elouisa!" max hums with content as elouisa doesn't fight against max's embrace but embraces it and moves closer to him 

"why thank you, maxie! at least someone's not afraid to say it!" elouisa giggles before she stops as she feels the way the looks of the others change from the momentary joy back to sympathy 

elouisa wasn't normally one to get upset over her dad. because, right from the get go, she would always talk about him and she would be able to do that without crying. it was something that actually confused many people because they couldn't believe just how poised she was when she'd talk about her beloved dad so quickly after his devastating loss. how could she not? her dad was her hero, the reason why she even got into motorsport and why she was now a formula one driver even though he would never live long enough to see it. he still had the belief in his daughter that she could make it. that was why she had made it clear that her entire racing career with formula one would be dedicated to her father. but, when it did get quiet within her head and she did get upset about her dad, she knew she could go to any of the other guys in the grid and they'd be there for her to hold her as she fell. 

that was when the very distinct memory of driving on the anniversary of her dad's death and winning popped into her head. 

ʚ✩ɞ

"...elouisa, i don't want to freak you out considering today's already been an emotional day but, with ten laps left, you are in the lead. max is a whole lap behind you with carlos. fernando is near the back with valtteri and logan. so, you just keep on pushing, okay baby? you keep on going and you get that win, alright?" elouisa's radio engineer's voice crackles as elouisa's breath gets shaky 

"thank you! i'm pushing now!" elouisa breathes out before a quick "over" is heard and it's once again quiet between elouisa and her radio engineer 

it was the italian grand prix. not only the home race of ferrari but also the home race of elouisa holland who is an australian-italian f1 driver for aston martin, born and raised in australia to italian parents which meant that she could claim both the australian grand prix and all the italian grand prixs as home races. and, that's what she did. however, this time, this italian grand prix in monza was the most important home race for elouisa. it was the first time that she was in the clear running for a podium finish. but, not just any podium finish but a win. so, that's what elouisa and her team at aston martin were vying for at this italian grand prix. and right now, without even realising it, since she had been swamped by grief and agony of the memory of it being the tragic passing of her father, elouisa was inching closer and closer to getting her first ever italian grand prix win at monza.

elouisa doesn't really realise what's going on because she's so dazed and taken out of the joyus moment but, she knows somewhere deep down inside of her that she's finally snagged a win at one of her home races. celebrating with her radio engineer was supposed to be joyful but it was as though she wasn't even in her body. it was as though she was having an outer body experience and watching it happen. she hadn't even realised that she had driven her car into the parc ferme and in front of the p1 placard. so, it took max, who grasped second place and carlos in third place to help her out of the car and take her helmet off that she started to come to again.

"...elouisa! you did it, you won!" max smiled, his helmet also off as his hands squeeze the girl's cheeks as she looks at him with bulging wide eyes in shock 

"what? no...no i didn't!" elouisa stammered, she was sure max at some point had overtaken her but when she turned to look at carlos, he shook his head, also smiling wide as he joined max 

"yes, you did, hermana sister!" carlos rubbed elouisa's back as tears welled in her eyes, she couldn't understand why or how she had even won a race on a day as agonising and grevious as the annviersary of the death of her beloved dad

"then why don't i feel happy or excited?" elouisa's voice cracked as max and carlos remembered, their eyes sullen 

they hadn't forgotten what this day was or the feelings it brought up for their best friend. how could they forget? they grew up with elouisa and her family. of course, they were on the older side of the grid but, they still grew up with elouisa in the same way they grew up in similar circles to the rest of the drivers on the grid. so, they knew and remembered the exact time on this specific day that they got the news that elouisa's dad had died. it was devastating for all of those in the karting and motorsport world because elouisa's dad was well-known and very well loved. and because he was so involved with it, it had come as a huge shock that the news had come out during a karting championship that elouisa was actually participating in alongside george russell, alex albon and oscar piastri. and, exactly like today, on the anniversary of her dad's death, on the day that it was announced her dad had died, she had also won that karting championship, having no knowledge that at home, her mum was grieving over the loss of her husband and the father of her five children who were all at the karting championship for elouisa. 

maybe that was why whenever elouisa won on days like anniversaries and the birthday of her dad, it never felt happy or exciting. it always had a tinge of sadness because it was another win that he would never get to witness and be apart of. nor was it a trophy that he would be able to  see. so, getting this win at monza was equally amazing for elouisa and aston martin but it was also agonising that it was yet another win that would never be seen and celebrated by and with her dad. maybe that was why her mum had slowly started to stop from coming to races. she couldn't bear to see her little girl on that podium, winning races, without seeing both of her parents there watching. max and carlos could see that the grieving girl was ever so slightly starting to breakdown and they hated it so, they didn't hesitate. pulling her in for a hug, they pulled her closely and held her tightly. the formula one commentators mentioning just how sweet it was that even though they were rivals on track, as soon as they got out of their cars, they were best friends and were there to take care of one another. they also hadn't forgotten what day it was that the italian grand prix managed to fall on this year so, they couldn't do anything else but pay their respects and send their love to elouisa and the rest of the holland family.

  ʚ✩ɞ

"...hey, you okay, schat darling? you went off somewhere, you back with us now?" max giggles softly as elouisa blinks, looking max in the eyes and nodded her head 

"yeah...yeah, i'm fine, sorry. yeah, i was in fairyland for a little bit. i'm sorry, what were we taking about?" elouisa mumbled as she leaned further into max's protective hold as max smiled 

"don't apologise. and whatever we were talking about before doesn't matter anymore, what was going on inside your head? where did you travel off too?" max's voice softened as he got the two of them to sit down on the couch, the other drivers following suite as elouisa scoffed softly 

"my first win at monza...on dad's anniversary..." elouisa trailed off as max nodded his head, the other drivers smiling softly, understanding how agonising that was for her 

"...why's that schat?" max wondered, he remembers that day like it was yesterday and it haunted him at how elouisa was so hollow and as though it wasn't her controlling her body that entire day

"it's a cruel reminder that it's now been a decade since he's died and i still forget that he's never coming back even when i win races..." elouisa whispered, tears that hadn't been shed since that podium, rose in her eyes as her lip trembled 

"...you can cry, lieverd sweetheart." max whispered and that was all that elouisa needed to hear before the tears tumbled down her face as max hugged her close to his chest, her hand covering her face, the other one wrapping around max's middle

the rest of the drivers weren't sure what to do. so they just stood awkwardly, feeling bad for their teammate that her breakdown was most definitely caused by the extremely persistent and abhorrent interviewer from the press conference. that was until lewis led the rest of them out by loudly announcing that they probably had better things to be doing than awkwardly watching max and elouisa. and, max and elouisa both would thank lewis for that later on in the day. not because the other drivers were being ignorant or rude, but it was uncomfortable to see their best friend and teammate cry and not know what to do other than just stand there awkwardly. they for sure could have gone in for a group hug and hopefully used that as a way to maybe make elouisa let out a croaky giggle but, they didn't want to push it or make her feel worse. so, with lewis in the lead, they all left the paddock and allowed max and elouisa to be left on their own. knowing and trusting that max would do everything in his power to get elouisa back to the elouisa they all knew and loved again. 

and it wouldn't take too much longer before max was able to dry elouisa's tears and get that smile back on her face. followed by a shrill giggle not too long after he got her smile back. sure, it was a painful reminder that her dad was gone but, he was never forgotten. no matter how many decades went past since the loss of her father, elouisa would always dedicate the rest of her life as a formula one driver to him. because he was the one that truly believed that his little girl had it in him to have what it took to become a formula one driver. 

fin

ok this ending was shitty and awful but, whilst i was rewriting an old one-shot that is once again max focused, i had this idea so i decided to write it before i forgot it. and this is what i had come up with. and yes, some of what is written in here is what i've through with the passing of my own dad. the truth starting with that, this year, october 2024, it will be an entire decade since my dad died. meaning that exactly like elouisa, i was also eleven when my dad died as i am now twenty-one. which means, it's getting to the point where i've been remembering him for longer than i've known him and that honestly kind of shatters my heart in a way that, by next year, 2025, he would have been dead for the exact same time as he was in my life and that just doesn't sit right with me for some reason. however, because it hasn't even gotten to ten years yet, i shouldn't be thinking about that just yet! and, another thing that is true that i've included in this story is that, not that long after it had been confirmed by the paramedics that my dad was dead and had stopped responding to cpr and defibrilation, i had said to my mum "when am i getting a new dad?" and, i cannot say that i am proud of that statement. it is truly something that haunts me everytime i remember that i said those words. i was just so confused and had no clue what was happening because everything had happened so quickly that those were the words that just tumbled out of little eleven year old amber's mouth.  i was also originally diagnosed with anxiety but then earlier this year, it was rediagnosed as ptsd because of how severe the anxiety within the ptsd was. so, yes, like i said in the author's note at the start, this was a very self-indulgent fic. i hope i didn't make anyone depressed but if i did, i promise i'll help pay for your therapy

©⠀amberjazmyn's original work. do not translate or steal any of my fics. 2024

[risuola]

DO YOU WANT MY FINGERS? — F. READER x GOJO SATORU, who cannot stop twirling the god damn pen

You really needed to rest. You just wanted to sleep the day off, forget about the series of misfortunes and turn off your mind, but Satoru, your classmate just had to practise his pen spinning abilities.

cw: smut, Satoru and reader are students, fingering, Gojo is a menace, as usual, teasing, fingering, reader discretion is advised — 1,9k words

Can he stop?, you wondered, your mind racing like a sports car with the accelerator pushed to the floor, successfully rendering all of your efforts to relax fruitless. So many little things went wrong that day, so many failures that in themselves weren’t even that significant, but once accumulated, they created a tension in your body that you wished you could just sleep off. You hoped for the night to wipe away the concoction of not one, but two missed busses and a long run in the heat of the summer, the curse that was meant to be at most second grade but turned out to be first and exploding in purple goo, the fact that the room that ideally would have two beds, has just one and your infuriating colleague, now bedmate.

Gojo Satoru.

You had no idea what was his point in twirling that goddamn pen in between his fingers. Maybe he wanted to change his career path into becoming a circus artist or maybe he just wanted to annoy you to death – in both he had high chances to succeed. He clearly wanted to make you explode. That for sure was it, because the pen time after time fell from his hands, hitting the wooden floor. You lost count after the twenty sixth failed attempt of whatever the hell he was trying to accomplish, other than driving you completely insane.

Driven by the desire to break his neck, you flipped in the bed and took a quick glance of his form, fully ready and prepared to scold him, but then, your eyes landed on his hand and the voice got caught up inside your throat. Satoru has pretty hands, you always knew that, but somehow never paid them enough attention to notice how incredibly long his fingers are. You found yourself hypnotized by the way his lengthy digits worked all over the pen, twirling and twisting it between them. Skillfully bending and sliding against one another, using all of their slender length to make the movements effective.

Suddenly, you found yourself curious; your mind drifting into forbidden territories of rated thoughts, that you couldn’t, or maybe didn’t want to, push away. As you watched, hypnotized, how Satoru’s fingers were working their way around the pen, you wished to know if he’d be just as skilled using them in other ways? Would he be able to softly pour his magic onto your body, working them through your skin instead of the plastic? And how would they feel inside of you? For sure he’d reach into places you couldn’t yourself, for sure he’d-

“Y/n, my eyes are up here,” his voice snapped you out of your trance. “God, what got you so invested?”

“Nothing,” you muttered, exhaling deeply to ground yourself. “You’re annoying me with this pen, can you stop?”

“I’m trying to destress myself. I have to have my hands occupied- wait, were you looking at my hands?”

“No, Gojo.”

“Are you attracted to my hands?”

“How did you get annoyed and attracted mixed up, huh?”

“Don’t be shy now,” his face brightened with mischief as he grinned, wiggling his digits in the air. “Do you want my fingers?”

“God forbid you lay those on me,” you scoffed, trying to brush him off as you made an attempt to turn away from him, but he quickly rendered it fruitless by grabbing you by the wrist and pinning you down.

“Woops, I guess I just did,” he chuckled; one of his legs between your thighs as his body hovered above yours, making you wonder what the hell was happening. “Might as well go a little further.”

“I will knee you in the nuts if you don’t back off,” you threatened, but once again his chest, and whole body, shook with laughter.

“You can’t do that. Infinity, baby.”

Gojo and his goddamn infinity. A short tsk escaped your mouth, before he placed two of his fingers over them, brushing them ever-so-lightly along your upper lip, then lower and down the chin, painting a little s pattern with his, surprisingly soft, fingertips. His own lips never faltered from the menacing smirk, as his eyes focused on where he was outlining your features.

“So, tell me, where do you want them?” His voice now an octave lower went straight between your legs, you could feel yourself throbbing at the very thought of what he could do to you just by touching. “Here?” He peeled down your bottom lip just slightly, creating an opening for him to slip a fingertip into your mouth. “Nuh-ugh, don’t be mean,” he purred when you made an attempt to bite his digits off – the last signs of your dignity talking, before your body surrendered. “I assume it’s not here. So maybe… here?” With his finger now brushing just slightly over the swell of your breast, teasing the embarrassingly hardened nipple through the thin fabric of your sleeping shirt.

“Gojo-“ you tried to put some warning into your words, but he cut you off quickly.

“I’m not holding you, sweet thing. You have more than enough strength to push me away, we both know this.” He was right, and you hated it. Yes, he was above you, his thigh resting between yours, but other than that, he wasn’t exactly keeping you captive in his grip, because there was no grip whatsoever. Sending mental profanities at your own direction, you failed to notice his hand shifting downwards and you only realized it when your body jolted at the sudden pressure applied over your clothed clit. “Oh, it’s here where you want them, huh?”

To admit was way above your current state of self-respect, so you said nothing, trying to join your legs back together, to hide the wet patch that soaked through the soft, light-blue cotton, but to no avail. The more he stroked his fingers along the outlines of your folds, pressing little circles of tease into the swollen bud, the less control and clarity of mind you had.

“Use your words, will you?”

“G-gojo, please-“, you nearly whined.

“Yeah? Tell me, is that where you want my fingers?”

“Y-yes,” that was the most humiliating thing you’ve ever said, and you were certain that the consequences of it will haunt you for as long as you live, because Satoru was surely never gonna let you live that down, but at this particular moment, you couldn’t care less. You’ll be embarrassed later, now you needed to feel those sinful digits inside.

“Good girl,” he praised, pressing a soft kiss to the side of your jaw. Satoru was full of content, watching you lose your composure piece by piece right before his eyes, and he tried to take mental picture of every stage you went through since he began his teasing torture. From the soft frown that made your brows crease in the middle and your pretty eyes narrowed, sending death stares; through denial – the looks pointed away from him, the delicate tension of every muscle and clenched teeth and the current one – the most adorable flush that spilled over your cheeks and nose, the slightly nervous chew on your lower lip and those same eyes now lost, confused and yet, full of want. What he’s used to see in you was your every day calm, perfect composure and lighthearted approach to life and now, as all of those began to break, taking down the façade of carelessness, Gojo felt the swell of his confidence and ego. And the twitch in his pants.

“There you go,” he nearly whispered, slipping effortlessly into your underwear and the sudden contact of his skin against your aching, throbbing clit made your entire body shiver with anticipation. Satoru shifted his body to your side, placing his own down to be more comfortable, now sure that you won’t push him away. “You’re so wet. So wet and it’s only because of my fingers?”

“S-satoru…”

The grasp you took around his forearm could probably break a bone, but Gojo felt nothing, too consumed by the sweet whimpers that were escaping your lips as he was stroking the letters of his name right into your clit, time after time making your thighs tremble with pleasure. You were so incredibly wet, so worked up that it surprised even you how easily he made you unfold.

You could feel his hot breath fanning over the sensitive skin of your neck, where he was nipping at slowly, murmuring soft praises interlaced with the filthiest of things that could sound so sexy only slipping over Satoru Gojo’s tongue. His skillful fingertips brushed a little lower, gathering your slick and teasing your entrance painfully. You felt yourself clenching around nothing, needy for what his hands have to offer and he was quick to provide. One of his long fingers slipped into you with ease, entering your warm walls and pushing a breathy whimper from your throat. Satoru reached so far, way further than you could ever even try to reach. And then the subtle burn from the stretch came, when the second finger followed; the heel of his palm pressed tightly to your clit. With the way he moved in and out, pushing and pulling at your nerves, curling his digits inside of you and pressing every oversensitive button along his way – all of it was driving you insane.

The stars were overflowing your vision, the glittering particles of pleasure dancing right in front of your eyes and you couldn’t even care about keeping yourself from breathing out his name. The heat searing at your core spread throughout your entire body, setting it alight with its sparks. You felt like a volcano was erupting inside of you, the hot lava now flowing through your veins instead of blood, pumped sharply with the deft movements of Satoru’s fingers.

A surge of pleasure electrocuted your system, seething tendrils of blissful lust followed every push and pull of his digits. Your thighs began to tremble, your walls were contracting rapidly, clenching around him. Your breath got caught inside your lungs and those stars before your eyes began dancing around, blinding you with white.

“Think you can take the third one?”, Gojo asked, his mouth right next to your ear before he bit onto the petal of it. He challenged you with the question but wasn’t expecting the answer for it. Something incoherent slipped through your lips, following with a moan when he added another dose of stretch to your throbbing pussy, filling you to the impossible levels with the third fingers that still, slipped in with ease. He was almost too much, it sent you overboard with the excitement that got you spiraling into the bliss, head first, full speed. Your entire body tensed, your hand clenched around his forearm, but he didn’t falter from the torturous pace he’s set. Orgasm began overtaking your body in waves of ecstasy that was rushing through you every time he moved.

Your entire form shook underneath his touch, your mind was a blurred out, hazy mess and you were getting lost, drowning in the waves of climax and as he curled his fingers once more, pressing the most sensitive spot inside your velvety walls with all of his might, the knot in your stomach snapped. His name began escaping your mouth unknowingly, breathlessly repeated like a prayer, feeding into his ego as you came all over his hand. The orgasm came with the intensity that shot you straight onto the cloud nine, overwhelming you completely. Your eyes closed shut, your breath was racing just as the heart in your chest.

Gojo slowed down, leading you through the high and eventually, he pulled his hand out.

“Ah, what a mess you made,” he teased, smearing the milky white residues between his soaked fingers. You could barely hear him, but you didn’t need to, to know that he’s gonna tease you for that forever.

[mariacallous]

Since the conversation, if you can call it that, about trans people always seems to come down to bathrooms, I am sure of one thing.

I would much rather share a ladies’ room or a locker room with Sarah McBride than with Nancy Mace.

McBride, of course, was just elected to Congress and, in January, will be the highest-ranking elected official in America who is transgender. The 34-year-old comes to the US House of Representatives after serving in the Delaware legislature; before that, she was the national press secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.

Mace, a member of Congress from South Carolina since 2021, has been on an ugly campaign in recent weeks clearly intended to belittle and marginalize McBride – and to get on TV as much as possible doing so. She has filed a resolution, and the House speaker, Mike Johnson, has given it his nod of approval, that would somehow force trans people to keep out of the congressional bathrooms that reflect their gender identity.

“If you think this bill is about protecting women and not simply a ploy to get on Fox News, you’ve been fooled,” wrote Natalie Johnson, Mace’s former communications director. She added, pointedly, that a real effort to protect women would involve “a bill to bar Matt Gaetz, a sexual predator with an affinity for underage girls, from ever walking those halls again”. (Trump, as you know, tapped the far-right former Florida representative as his attorney general as part of this month’s parade of appalling cabinet choices. Gaetz later withdrew from consideration.)

On Wednesday, McBride reacted with dignity to all the performative insults and abuse. She simply responded that she would follow the rules and that she’s in Congress to represent her Delaware district; I’m sure she’ll eventually find ways to continue her admirable advocacy.

Mace, on the other hand, can’t be described as dignified. She’s running around pasting the word “biological” on restroom doors for photo ops, and snidely tweeting in McBride’s direction about International Men’s Day.

And she’s getting plenty of the media attention she craves.

On one level, this is all part of the unending circus of the Trump era.

On a human level, it’s scary, wrong and damaging.

“As a trans person myself, I’m really worried about where this is headed,” wrote Parker Molloy, who writes incisively about politics and media in her newsletter the Present Age. “I spend each day worrying about whether or not the healthcare that keeps me alive will remain legal, whether I’m going to face new restrictions on where I’m allowed to exist in public, what would happen to me if (god forbid) I wound up in prison for some reason, and whether or not my identity documents like my passport will be retroactively made invalid.”

She added poignantly: “Now, more than ever, I feel alone.”

Trans students may have it even worse. Again, it often comes down to bathrooms.

A lot of children, especially transgender and gender-nonconforming children, avoid bathrooms all day, since that’s where the bullying can be most intense. Thus, advocates say, trans kids often are prone to urinary tract infections or eating disorders because they’ve avoided eating and drinking.

As for the right’s obsession with trans students on sports team, the vast majority have no unfair advantage on the playing fields (or courts, or pools). They are just trying to reap the same benefits of sports as do other kids – leadership, teamwork and friendship.

The meanspirited and misinformed narrative about transgender people makes it difficult for them to feel cared about and to live full lives.

But don’t try to tell that to Mace, whose preoccupation is not with kindness or decency, but with getting attention and winning the culture wars.

As the Daily Beast reported last year, Mace’s staffers were given a handbook that outlined just how intensely this mattered to their boss; they were told to book her on TV multiple times a day, amounting to nine times a week for national outlets and six times a week for local outlets.

In 2021, Mace depicted herself as supportive of LGBTQ+ rights. That was before the tide turned so forcefully and, as Philip Bump of the Washington Post put it, before “the Republican base had been fed a steady diet of anti-trans rhetoric, making trans issues fertile ground for anyone willing to engage in the fight”.

Mace, clearly, is more than willing.

If that means being cruel, then so be it. As writer Adam Serwer observed about Trumpian politics: “The cruelty is the point.”

Meanwhile, vulnerable and marginalized people are made to suffer for trying to be true to themselves. And despite the progress shown by McBride’s election, the world around this milestone seems to be getting increasingly harsh.

[colourstreakgryffin]

Maybe some headcanons with Blitz having an S/O who's a big volleyball fan? :o Like imagine Blitz, his S/O, Moxxie and Millie having a volleyball match for fun

(I saw in your pinned post that you wrote for Haikyuu and Helluva Boss so I combined the two :3)

Oooh! Yaaayy! Let’s gooo. I love Blitzø so much! He is my favourite from Helluva! Thank you so much!

Blitz- Guns & Volleyballs

Blitz is a very troubled one. Having a lot of problems on the inside whilst establishing himself as a pure prick on the outside but when he finally willingly let you in, he dropped most of his self-defensive behaviours… around you

Blitz actually finds your little passion adorable. You’re a demon, you can do ANYTHING you want but yet, you chose a human sport? How precious

Blitz always falls on his face when it comes to your volleyball games as a result of him playing with you to cheer you up or to bond or to help you. He may dislike this but hearing your joy through those cute laughs makes the embarrassment change to worth

Blitz legit has a volleyball snuck away in his office so when you want to practice with him or practice in general, he’ll get it and toss it to you

Blitz is that type of boyfriend. Trust me, he may seem like the very cold and harsh type who wouldn’t be included in his partner’s hobbies but he is, even if he doesn’t get it

Blitz is already arranging a holiday for I.M.P and not even so they can enjoy a day off work, just so you five can go to the Envy Ring, go to the Beach in order for you and him can kick the M&M’s ass in a Beach Volleyball match

Blitz considers you, his lover and his daughter, Loona on the same level of importance to him, so he tries his darn best to make sure you and Loona get along. He even encourages Loona to try play volleyball with you. You’re her step-parent, you need to be liked by her

Blitz happily listens to you ramble on about all the volleyball facts you love and have memorised whilst you’re both alone and spending time together, and I swear to Satan, this man has never looked more in love in his entire life

Blitz believes himself as a good opposite hitter but he’s actually a real good libero. His childhood gymnastics and circus skills make him really flexible and let him cross long distances quickly so he can do digs effectively. His circus skills is the main reason you and him win volleyball games

Blitz will buy or make you cute little volleyball outfits. Your jersey, your professional volleyball outfit and you know it that he puts his name in a specific but noticeable corner on the inside so everybody knows you’re his

Blitz is naturally protective of you so when you accidentally collide with your teammates and it ends with you briefly concussed or when you’re genuinely accidentally hurt during the game. He is pointing his gun at your teammates to fend them off and carrying you off the court to look after you

Blitz will sneak you out to Earth, with his Asmodean Crystal wristwatch and disguise both of you, so you can play on Earth and try out human Volleyball. He’ll either play, as he honed his skills, or he’ll play your manager and take care of you after the match

Yeah. Blitz goes inbetween your partner teammate and your manager but he somewhat more prefers being the manager so you can shine in your favourite hobby

“Hey, Bae. How did the volley tournament go? Yes, of course, I went to it but I want to hear your view, ‘kay?”

[razieldraws]

FINALLY! I finished the Koopalings redesigns 😭

I also want to share some headcanons

They're not Bowser's biological children, they're adopted.

Their father is Morton Koopa Sr., who died when they were little.

Larry: the youngest one, loves sports (expecially tennis) and video games. He's still a bit immature and inexperienced.

Morton: the gentle giant, he fights only if necessary. He's kind and protective towards his allies and his siblings. Not very talkative but an excellent listener, he's always there if anyone has a problem. He's also very empathetic.

Wendy: Loves fashion and fighting with style but also has a tomboy side . She wears her mother's necklace, she considers it a good luck charm and a precious memory of her. She doesn't appreciate Roy's rough manner but still gets along very well with him.

Iggy: It is not uncommon for him to behave strangely, his mood can change drastically in a few seconds, you may see him talking to himself or even see him wandering without a specific destination. Those who don't know him may consider him crazy, but he is actually very intelligent and a mechanical genius. The loss of his parents had a strong impact on him.

Roy: the strongest one. He has considerable physical strength and does not hesitate to throw himself into the fray. He loves to fight and never takes off his sunglasses. The loss of his parents hurt him a lot but he doesn't want to show it because he wants to prove that he is strong, he wants to be a point of reference for his siblings.

Lemmy: He's the second oldest but still very childish. He loves the circus and wants to become a circus performer. People tend to underestimate him due to his height but he's very skilled in combat thanks to his agility.

Ludwig: The leader of the Koopalings and very skilled with magic and music. He's very strong and smart but reserved towards strangers, he cares about a few people besides his siblings.

[kiwiana-writes]

WIP Wednesday

Thanks @cha-melodius and @three-drink-amy for the tags! And… look. I want it on record that this is all railmedaddy’s fault, okay? OC POV/Outsider POV you terrify me but here we are.

(Okay, MAYBE I was the one who sent a voice note talking about the fact that while I understand why CMQ didn’t include it in the book given it was still in the future when they wrote and published, in a covid-free 2020 the Tokyo Olympics should have happened during the timeframe of the book, somewhere around LA/pre-Lakehouse; and that the Paris Olympics aren’t mentioned but would be, per the timeline in the bonus chapter, around/right before they get engaged; and that’s INTERESTING, three Olympics covering their rivals - FWB - lovers arc. But what I’m actually writing? THAT is Rae’s fault, hands down.)

Rio de Janeiro, 2016

Ari Katene never realised how many famous people go to the Olympics.

Pretty fucking stupid, when he thinks about it. Of course they do. But when he was little, the Olympics was just the thing his family crowded around the TV to watch once every four years, muttering about timezones as they did so; when he got a bit older and started taking diving seriously, when he started getting noticed and his coach started talking about the Commonwealth Games as a real possibility, the Olympics became a goal. He was no longer thinking about who may or may not be there, but on how he could be there.

And here he is. Representing his country on the biggest stage there is—even if it is in a sport Aotearoa has never actually medalled in. But it doesn’t seem to matter that no one’s expecting him to place; there are celebrities everywhere, and they’re all keen to chat with an Olympian. Any Olympian.

Which Ari is, now. Fucking wild.

He’s been trying to stay in the zone for the most part, ahead of the finals later today, but he can’t resist taking the chance to grab a selfie with Alex and June Claremont-Diaz. He hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention so the circus that is the US election campaign, especially given his full-on training schedule all year, but even he’s aware of who the nominees are—and that if America actually elects Ellen Claremont instead of fucking it up, that selfie is going to be a pretty big brag in a few months.

Tagging @agame-writes @affectionatelyrs @anincompletelist @blueeyedgrlwrites @cactusdragon517

@celeritas2997 @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @dumbpeachjuice @everwitch-magiks

@firenati0n @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @hgejfmw-hgejhsf @indestructibleheart

@inexplicablymine @junebugclaremontdiaz @larkral @leaves-of-laurelin @lilythesilly

@littlemisskittentoes @lizzie-bennetdarcy @myheartalivewrites @ninzied @nocoastposts

@nontoxic-writes @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @piratefalls @porcelainmortal

@read-and-write- @rmd-writes @sherryvalli @ships-to-sail @sparklepocalypse

@stereopticons @thesleepyskipper @thinkof-england

@tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged and, as always, anyone who wants to play! (If you take the open tag please tag me so I can see!!)

[umiewrites]

AVERAGE?

19.JUL.2024

FLUFF ❀˖° SFW ❀˖° Romantic ❀˖° Established relationship, reader has some characterization (ref: tags)

Partner! Izumi × GN! Insecure Reader (Fluff, slight angst with comfort, no pronouns, gendered terms, clothing mentioned for reader. Established relationship. Insecurity, anxiety, low self esteem from reader. Reader is a college student. Izumi comforts you, slight OOC)

Syn: It must be nice to date a famous model and idol~ and yet your thoughts don't stop. Surely he can do better than you. Aren't you just... Average?

"Geez, you're so messy!" Izumi huffed while he pulled out some tissues, wiping the pen marks off of your face. You had been falling asleep in your lectures again, and it's clear.

The other students pass by the entrance, watching and stealing glances at you and Izumi being all close right after getting you out of class. They all recognize one of the big three idols of ES, amazed that he's here at their college campus... Yet their reactions to seeing him pamper you... You can't help but notice them, the way they seem to sneer, wrinkle their face, or even look disappointed...

Or was that just you?

You shook your head, trying to focus on your doting partner scolding and taking care of you, in his own way. He was caring in his own way, never wanting anyone to be anything but their best selves. No matter how arrogant he seems, he never insults anyone or degrades them. Especially not you; so you do your best to push your thoughts away...

Whenever Izumi returns to Japan, he always makes sure to go and see you at least once. One date. That's the bare minimum, but he'd like to keep that and go above if he could, with his tight schedule. He always spoils you, bringing you out shopping, taking you to cafes you might like, or just resting at home. He needs some downtime as well, and the fact that he spends it holding you is honestly, just sweet.

He's nagging you like a mom while you two walk, his hand firmly holding yours; although not enough to hurt. He's always so caring in his own way. Asking how your lectures and studies are going. Always messaging you and checking up on your social media to keep himself updated. He's already a perfect model, perfect idol, and now a perfect partner...

...

They're staring again. Those eyes that linger as you walk past, Izumi by your side. You avoid their eyes, but how is it that you know they're looking at you? They must be. Seeing the beautiful and famous Izumi Sena, and then you in comparison.

You, some average student. The best you've done is maybe earn an award or two in school. Maybe you got some good grades? Did you win that one time during the sports festival? Did you get best in your class sometime?

You don't remember. You were sure they were insignificant anyways. A bulb compared to the star that your partner is. He's beautiful, talented, hardworking... How you ended up with him is... Out of your comprehension.

He's... Making a bad decision. He's making the wrong decision. Is he keeping you like some circus pet he can laugh at? Someone worse so he can feel better about himself? No, he's not that shallow.

Something is wrong here. There's no way you... No way you got him as a partner. It's just impossible. Shouldn't he go for someone equal to him? Someone who can stand and share his spotlight? Someone worthy of his shine? Yet here you are, old clothes that were just randomly stuffed into your closet. Hair decently combed, you suppose? His designer clothes, his perfect skin, hair, and... Everything. Compared to your... Nothing. Something, at best.

He's making a mistake

You must've tricked him or something.

"...hey..."

Who are you?

Standing next to him like this...

"Hey!"

you're...

Nothing.

"Hey— Idiot!"

You snapped out, noticing he's looking at you with his arms crossed, clearly impatient.

"You nearly walked into the traffic! Geez... If I hadn't been holding you, you could have gotten hurt!" He scolded you. You didn't realize you two arrived at a crossroad...

You mumbled a little sorry to him. To think you've been so far into your thoughts that you caused him trouble. Really...

"You seem out of it today. Something happen?" Izumi asked, looking to examine what could be wrong. His tone makes him seem nonchalant, but you know him. He cares, he really does. And you'd rather doubt the sun than doubt his sincerity...

You try to answer, but Izumi can tell there's something more wrong than that...

"Don't try to lie. I know something's bothering you." He took your hand and led you across the road gently when the pedestrian light turned green.

"A frown makes you wrinkle, and stress is bad for you. Spill." He was never one to beat around the bush, as he urged you to tell him what's wrong.

"..." When he noticed your quiet, dismissive reply, he stayed quiet as well. He just led you to a park and picked out a bench with no one around.

The greenery, the open space, the plants, lack of people... It's clear what he's trying to do.

It's such a safe place to spill your thoughts and feelings... Not by entrapping you. Not by confronting you. Not by pressuring you. Trying his best to implicitly make you relax and take a literal breather in the nature and shade so you're calmer...

What did you do to deserve him?

"No one's around here. I'm not gonna force anything out of you, but you're really worrying me, geez! I'm not gonna sugarcoat it, I don't wanna press you either. But I'd be lying if I said I didn't want answers." He crossed his arms, avoiding looking at you, but his tone soft. His shoulders relax, and he's breathing in the nature too.

...and here you are worrying.

He doesn't deserve you. Someone like you...

At your own pace, you spill everything you had on your mind. Maybe you changed some words to worry him less. Maybe you tried to make light of it. But you did your best...

Your average, your nothing; you spilled it to him, even if it's bit by bit, hints or clues. You avoid looking at him, but you can tell it's not a good reaction. He's calm, but he gets more irritated with every self insult and deprecation that enters his ears. He waits for you to finish, but you can tell he's just being polite. He's itching, waiting to argue back...!

"So, you think all this... You're troubled cuz I'm apparently too perfect for you??" And of course he wasn't happy.

You didn't understand why, just that he was.

"That you're average?" He pointed to your chest and leaned in closer.

"Stupid moronic you...! Dumber than a fish!" He's just irritated as he threw some words at you. Maybe it hurt, but he means it, in the best way possible. You are a stupid, dumb, moron in his eyes.

Stupid for not realizing the fact: You're worthy of him

Dumb for believing: That you're an average slob and trash of a human being.

Moron for thinking: That your love was a mistake.

"Use your brain for a second! You think I'd date anyone less than my standards? It's also insulting to me that you think I'd date someone as ugly, worthless and stupid as you're describing! You seriously think I'd commit to a mistake? Me? The perfect Izumi Sena??" He ranted, a frustrated look in his face.

"I NEVER make mistakes. Even if you were one, I'd have figured it out by now, don't you think?! Quiz me this, moron! If I never make mistakes, if I never settle for anything less than perfect, if I always see everything at their best... Why am I dating you?"

He's grumpy. Mad.

"It's because you are perfect. You meet my standards. You're... Already your best. I never settle for less. You know, you claim to be confident in me, but doubting yourself is a bigger insult here. How dare you think I'd date whatever the hell you just described?! Are you insulting my tastes? Geez..."

He leaned back, sighing after that long rant and closing his eyes.

"...what can I say, to make you see... The one and only face that is unique to you. Even if it's blemished and tired, it's yours. It's one of a kind. Your work. Even if you wanna take breaks forever and sleep... You don't see the way you lean in and scratch your head over your work, making sure it's done and passable before you turn it in. What about the way you understand? The way you see me and called me sweet?" He whispered, trying to pour his heart out.

He's never done this. Being mean was his default and love language... But he knows that can't help you right now. For once, he'll break old habits and... Show you. He'll tell you everything, every day, every time he's realized and fell for you a whole trench deeper. What must he do? He'd pluck his eyeballs and give it to you, so you can look in the mirror and see the radiance he did.

Whatever you just described, it wasn't you. He's going to pull out all the stops and tactics. Realizing you've been so insecure.

"Hey." He firmly got up and called for you.

"From now on, send me a picture of yourself every morning. Every new outfit you change into. Every time you pass by the mirror. I want to see it all. Do this, cuz when you do, I'm going to tell you without fail, that you're still beautiful and the same goddamn partner I love." He's cringing. So hard.

This is so embarrassing. But he'd go through this. Anything for you.

"If I ever catch you insulting yourself again... I'll make sure you never say that ever again. Got it?"

He looks at you for a nod. Anything affirmative...

"Can't hear you! Got it!?"

Hearing him raise his voice, you nod vigorously, muttering small yes's and confirmations...

"Good. That's my partner..." He got his hand up and patted your head.

"Even models take years before they're confident in front of the camera. Until then, they brave through it till they believe it. So from now on, I'm gonna make sure... That you're damn worthy of that spotlight."

"I love you, you hear me? Average? Don't give me that. I don't settle for whatever you described. I settle for perfect, and I settled for you."

[devdirt]

Hollow Knight vs. Vivziepop character design language

I know it's kind of a wildcard comparison but Vivziepop is a fan of Hollow Knight and its designs. I wanted to explore how shape language, color usage and storytelling in design are used in both properties.

NPC designs do a great job at telling you the character's personality or occupation without being overly detailed. One well placed trait does wonders, like Cornifer with his bundles of maps or Tuk and her hoarding, scrap salvaging hobbies. Paired with the world it tells two people doing their best to survive their dying realm, one by mapping out the twists and turns and the other by scraping up whatever she can find from abandoned civilization.

Now when we look at visual storytelling in Hazbin there are some good details! Alastor's outfit design and trademark microphone give you old timey host vibes right away. Niffty (my angel) sports a poodle skirt, kerchief around her neck and apron, also telling you her occupation and time period she's likely from. Everyone in this show has a big toothy grin but hers plays well into her hyperactive and always happy personality.

But there are also really poor moments of character storytelling. Everything about Beelzebub has already been said. She doesn't read as gluttony, she doesn't read as a bee, and she doesn't read as an animal tamer. When I look at her I see every other wolf character Viv has ever done. If Jayjay is party wolf and Loona is goth wolf then Beelzebub is lava lamp wolf.

The sins are mostly misses for me. They don't read as their sins or their circus related occupations. Asmodeus has fire powers but doesn't read as fire spinner. Mammon doesn't give off greed at ALL but the jester look works (which is also wrong because he's a CLOWN apparently, not a jester.) And don't get me started on this one.

This is not Lucifer.

Nothing about this reads angel, devil or even pride. This design goes all in on the ringmaster design, which is great for the circus theme! But the apple on the hat is the closest we get to this being Lucifer. I didn't even notice the snake on his hat because it looks like a worm for the apple, and they both cover the crown.

Add a second apple on the cane. Okay, so we know for sure this is supposed to be Lucifer but...why? It's another Beelzebub moment where you're left wondering why the design went in this direction. "Apple" shouldn't be the only giveaway here for the most important man in the world these stories are being told in.

Now let's see the celestial leader of Hollow Knight.

That is a god.

Removing all story context, this is incredibly quick to read. Large wings, all white, glowing yellow eyes and a crown. It looks celestial and it doesn't even need color, which is the point!

Now lets view them both within their stories. Is there visual storytelling when compared to other characters and the world around then?

Hollownest is a dark world where every character is dully colored. The Radiance and her power stick out with a glow, juxtaposing themselves with the dark as the light.

Lucifer does not look any different than most of the Hazbin cast. He has all the red, the same sharp toothed grin, the same body type as 90% of the cast of both Hazbin and Helluva Boss. If you lined him up with everyone else somebody like Asmodeus would be chosen as the obvious leader of Hell with his stature and power in the design alone.

Simplicity can tell an entire story while overextending your designs can muddy it.

Hollow Knight relies on few details and minimal storytelling yet it weaves a tale of an usurped kingdom and a god fighting for revenge. You are void, the world is dull, and god is bright and beautiful and terrifying to your way of life.

Vivziepop wants to weave a complex tale but utterly fails to do so with her designs. I purposely did not bring up Cherri Bomb, Sir Pentious or Stolas' designs since they have elements that were taken from other people and properties. I wanted to focus on what she made with her own hands, and when I narrow it down I do not see the story being told or even what side some characters are supposed to be on. Adam and the exterminators look the same as any demon. The leaders of Hell mostly sink into the ocean of overdone details. When everybody is trying so hard to stand out nobody stands out.

[wisteriagoesvroom]

18 & 63 for the trope mashup please! <3

18. Circus AU and 63. Everybody knows, mistaken for a couple ^from the prompt mash ups game!

This is a Cirque du Soleil AU where Norris and Piastri are two trapeze artists who made huge names for themselves in their individual countries. They get paired up for new show, and it involves a really tricky sequence that people are convinced is not possible and has never been done before, let alone by two guys.

They have a couple of near misses on the attempts to nail the trick, and the whole gang is watching carefully from the safety nets. People are biting their nails, and george is totally double checking the insurance papers and trying not to freak out.

Anyway, Oscar hangs upside down on the bar, totally chill. on the platform, Lando shakes the last of his nerves from his fingers. he slides a firm grip down his own bar, the one place that’s been so familiar for so many years, and he takes a breath. It’s beyond conscious thought, it’s just muscle memory, stepping into the air. With faith that the other man will meet him, in that millisecond between complete connection and the plummet.

Hands. It’s all in the hands. Lando's own fingertips moulding to the floor the first time he nailed a handstand, someone else’s careful hands that taught him his first few balances and tucks. The way his hands bled bloody and blistered, until he worked up the requisite strength.

Now, Lando grips the bar steady with both hands. Now, the steady rhythm in the pit of his stomach. Once, three times, four — the pendulum hits the peak of the apex.

Lando jackknifes through the air, and he’s twisting, house lights blurring in his vision.

Oscar waits, hands outstretched.

Then, a firm clasp from a smaller hand. Callouses pressed against his own. Years of practice, leading up to this point of contact.

His body knows before his mind does. The snap of gravity into the right place, when moving object meets opposing force. It’s Oscar’s counter-rhythm that stops him falling, Oscar’s nimble strength that matches his own. The way they do this in silence, carefully cultivated trust. In that moment, their bodies are a marvel of physics.

Below, the cast erupts in whoops and cheers. Lando wants to run around, wants to scream, but in that moment there’s not really an option - he just clasps Oscar’s forearms, and lets himself be swung.

“Well.” Oscar says, wry. “That was easy.”

Lando looks up. “Yeah. Only took fifty four tries.”

Lando can tell Oscar’s trying not to laugh. Oscar's hands stay steady though.

Someone captures the footage and it takes a while to get going, but then they’re doing numbers on socials. Cirque marketing figures this could get momentum and gradually shares more behind the scenes footage of them both: heads bowed together to talk about the tricks, tightening their wrist wraps, dusting chalk off each other, and laughing as they sip their energy drinks. They even get a portmanteau: landoscar.

The final show is obviously a massive hit. Lando and Oscar’s segment ends up being a lyrical interpretation of the life of a papaya or something. It’s Seb Vettel’s show about the lifespan of plants and bees so they’re just rolling with the vision.

When Pride comes around, the two of them step out to get coffee and a snack at their regular spot. The barista waves at them and says: “a year's free coffee for the happy couple! thank you so much for repping queer excellence in the arts.”

And Oscar’s like, “oh, uh. I mean. I am. But we– we’re not…”

Then Lando turns to him. The morning light looks good on Oscar. Oscar who always lends him sports tape, always lets him order lunch first, and always, always leans forward to catch him. In or out of the ring, he is the partner Lando trusts more than anything in the world.

So Lando tugs on Oscar’s hoodie sleeve, and is like: “actually, I’d meant to ask you…”

[bluegarners]

What do you think Dick would be like if his parents didn’t die? (Please ignore the court of owls stuff for this thought experiment)

hm. i had to really think about this one, and i get the feeling bruce-isms are taking over me when i say this, but i think dick would have lived a largely... unsatisfying life... had his parents never died AND he was never taken in by bruce

bc i think there really is something innate in dick that really strives for achievement and accomplishment and overall some kind of sense of responsibility that is uncommon in others. i mean, he had to have those qualities if he was going to perform with his parents on the level they were at. but also, i think that kind of drive can really only find an outlet in getting the Most out of the world

i think at some point in dick's career as a trapeze artist/gymnast working in the circus, there would be this mental block that no matter what he did in the realm of normal-world-order, he just would never be satisfied. it would never be enough. he could leave the circus at his peak, go to the olympics, win gold, try other sports, go to more extremes-- but there comes a point where the real-world says NO to people like dick grayson who just keep wanting to go to bigger and greater heights

but in the superhero-world, where NO simply just does not exist, the boundaries are endless for dick. saving people, saving the world, being robin or nightwing or whoever, never becomes just old hat. dick just has so much passion inside of him that i don't think leading a civilian life (however accomplished and high achieving he becomes as a civilian) just would never be enough

sure, i think that parent-shaped-hole inside of him would never have become a hole at all, but i think that for the rest of his life, dick would be searching for something that would fill that other invisible hole inside of him. he doesn't know what it is or where it came from or what could ever finally satisfy it, and i think that would eat up dick until the day he died

not to say i think he would live an unhappy or empty life. in fact, i think dick would go on to have a very loving, filled life and would even go on to have his own family full of children. but, in the end, dick would always be searching for that Something that's missing but he can't name. maybe there's a happy ending, but would it be satisfying? i just dont think so

[aziraphales-library]

First of all, love your blog. As many has said, I have found some amazing fics off of here.

Second, would you happen to know any fics that have to do with discorporation? Like, through plagues or wars? I have been craving some angst recently.

Thank you if you consider this, much appreciated!

Thanks! We have a #temporary character death tag, so do check that out! Here are some angsty sics featuring discorporation to add...

now can these broken wings free me by Bentley26 (T)

Crowley and Aziraphale meet back up in Rome in 140 CE. After an enjoyable lunch, Crowley isn't ready for his time with Aziraphale to end, so he invites him to accompany him to a chariot race being held at Circus Maximus. If he's spending time with his angel, what could possibly go wrong?

Lead Us (Not) Into Temptation, But Deliver Us From Evil by OtterFi (T)

“So… that’s it? We’re just… an angel and demon, following our orders then?” Aziraphale asks quietly, dazed by how the pleasant conversation turned so contentious so quickly. Crowley turns to walk away. “‘S what we’ve always been, hasn’t it?” “So, ah, I suppose I’ll, I’ll see you out there then?” This causes them to pause as the implications sink in. Aziraphale isn’t just going to be witnessing the destruction of a city. He is going to be witnessing the how… and by whom. “Pray that you don’t…” they mutter as they go. And if they were talking to Aziraphale or to themself, it isn't clear.

In 33AD in Rome, a demon sports a new haircut and an angel (to both their surprises) invites them to lunch. But this is not that story. This story takes place a few years before, where finally after 4000 years of paths crossing, the two finally intersect. But such an event is not a small one, and takes no small event for it to happen.

at the edge of the water by viperinz (G)

“Hello, dearest. Do you mind miracling a cold pack for me? I’m afraid I can’t focus enough to do it.” Crowley swallows, his eyes wide. He does what he’s asked to do, because of course he doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind at all. He walks to the side Aziraphale is facing, sitting down on the edge of the bed. He hands the cold pack to Aziraphale, who gratefully takes it. “Thank you,” he whispers, and Crowley watches as he puts the pack on his right thigh. Aziraphale sighs in relief, but his face still conveys how much pain he still feels. And, Crowley gets it now. The pain that needed a cold pack, the way that Aziraphale was limping. It was an injury, wasn’t it?

Crowley notices that there's something going on with Aziraphale's leg. He realizes the pain lies deeper than he first thought it would.

La Petite Mort by PanDemonicPanDemonium (E)

Crowley moves from being more allosexual through to demi/greysexual or greyace, as people can change how they feel about things over time. There’s some moderately graphic violence and temporary discorporation but no MCD. there are *minor* character deaths (eg canon Ligur and similar). The fic is canon adjacent/compliant. Detailing events not seen in book/show, but also putting those in context of the character’s feelings during some key canon events. It is largely a tale of personal growth and discovery, and what it means to love another through changing circumstances over time.

Everything Is Temporary (But Love Will Never Die) by The_Bentley (E)

Crowley found he was unable to keep from thinking about the whole situation to the east.  Would Aziraphale’s sense of duty get the best of him?  Lately he had been telling Crowley he didn’t feel he was performing his angelic duities the best way he could . . . And that’s exactly what he was doing wasn’t it?  He overthought his partaking of the pleasures of Earthly life, and now he was going to stay in Jerusalem doing penance for not being a good little angel as he should be. It is 70 AD and the unrest between the Roman Empire and its province of Judea is going to come to a swift end with the destruction of Jerusalem. Crowley flees to Rome, seeing exactly how all this is going to turn out. Aziraphale feels compelled to aid the citizens of the Holy City despite Crowley's pleas that he abandon his cause. Angel and demon are about to get caught up in desperate events that could prove disastrous for them both.

The Beauty of a Broken Angel by Wanderingbard3 (T)

Aziraphale watches the fallen being cast out of heaven and despite the clear message that he's not supposed to feel bad about what's happening, he does. The experience teaches him to distrust his instincts and feelings, awakening the belief in him that there's something fundamentally and dangerously wrong with him. The pleasure he experiences through being embodied and interacting with the world corroborate his fears. He spends the next 6000 years fighting his "flaws", trying to be what's expected of him, and afraid that at any moment he'll be found out. The only time he feels like he can be himself is when he's around a certain demon, the Great Tempter of the Garden of Eden himself. Unfortunately, that only confirms Aziraphale's suspicions about himself. Only a bad angel would feel more comfortable on Earth with a demon than in heaven surrounded by proper angels. But through the course of those years, and the events of the cannon, Aziraphale finds the courage and understanding to be himself, learning that hiding and pretending are far more damaging in the end than facing the consequences of being himself.

- Mod D