#too many people involved

[fabulousdowneybrothers]

Ultimate Sprix Records List #394 Too Many People Involved YouTube Music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Sgk_vFZXEqE Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/track/38QEFi89seWAKV8dJvBEEQ?si=583af33678944a61?

[tevintersnakes]

Lab tech brain compels me to ramble through my OC

[starcurtain]

Hear me out. I know it's unlikely that Ratio would ever have been foolish enough to directly get taken in by a scam, but considering that we know:

One of the groups specifically tricked by Kakavasha before he joined the IPC was the Intelligentsia Guild

What he tricked them about was Tayzzyronth's Swarm remnants, the exact same thing we see Ratio investigating in his very first appearance in the game, and

The researchers were described as "extremely cautious"

I am surprised that "Ratio was at least somehow connected to the Intelligentsia Guild team fooled by Kakavasha before he was ever even a Stoneheart" isn't more popular with the Ratio and Aventurine fandom.

Like imagine being Dr. Ratio. You tell your colleagues, "This seems like a scam. Are you sure you should trust this 'local guide' you've made contact with? Tell me about him. A picture? Does this even look like an Egyhazan native to you? I won't save you fools from making idiotic decisions." (You end up having to clean up the aftermath of their idiotic decisions anyway. There is sand in places on your body you didn't even know existed before this. How mortifying for the Guild. For you, by association.)

Then, next thing you know, you get a mission briefing slid across your desk from your IPC connections. They want you to work with their new Stoneheart. You open the packet to see... that little bastard with the enthralling eyes who had your moronic colleagues scrambling in the dirt on a backwater planet for months. Apparently he's made a career out of fooling you your supposedly competent guildmates.

You run off to confront him. You never met him personally back then, but you deserve compensation for the idiocy you were subjected to nonetheless. He deserves to know how much of a pain in the ass he's been in your life already without ever having met your eyes--

He proceeds to shove a gun into your hands and tries to make you an accomplice to a suicide. Apparently, this is normal behavior for the man now called Aventurine. Somehow, it's supposed to prove to you that he is a sane and reliable individual.

Absolutely nothing in your life has been normal since Egyhazo.

You would like to have mundane problems, sometimes.

How do you keep ending up in this beautiful manic clever conman's orbit, and why, like binary stars, can you not escape the gravitational pull?

[ruporas]

invisible scars (referenced previous talk here)

[ID: A colourless, digital Trigun comic of Vash and Wolfwood talking about Wolfwood's scars. They're both laying in bed and topless. Vash lays on top of Wolfwood, playing with the rosary around his neck. Then, Vash kisses a spot on Wolfwood's chest. Wolfwood asks, "What are you doing?" Vash smiles sadly, "You got shot here. In the last town we visited. You didn't even bother moving."

Vash props himself up over Wolfwood, who frowns slightly. Wolfwood is quiet for a moment before he says, "You remember that, huh?" Vash grabs Wolfwood's left wrist and brings it to his face. "And here." He kisses another spot there. "When you helped free the hostages from that robber..." Wolfwood dismissively says, looking away, "Was a lucky shot." Vash huffs, “Don’t brag. Jeez.”

Half of Wolfwood's expression is shown, eyes returning to Vash who is now sitting up, continuing to say, "And..." Vash goes on and kiss Wolfwood's right palm. "You got cut here, even though that girl was aiming at me." A moment from the past flashes, of Wolfwood grabbing a knife aimed at Vash, his hand bleeding.

At present, Vash moves down and puts another kiss on Wolfwood's right shoulder. "And here, from watching my back." Another memory flashes of Wolfwood and Vash back to back. Vash looks back as Wolfwood grins while holding Punisher, bleeding from multiple gunshots in his shoulder.

"And," Vash combs up Wolfwood's hair to reveal his forehead, "Here." A final memory shows Wolfwood with a regeneration vial in his mouth while getting shot on his temple. The next panel is framed in blood with Vash at the center, eyes wide and stunned in horror. The next panel is a closed up shot of Wolfwood's eye, locked on Vash's face.

Back to present, Vash’s head is bowed down as Wolfwood raises a hand to his nape and says, ��Spikey.”

Wolfwood looks serious and frowns as he says, "We talked about this. Those were my decisions. They're not there anymore. Forget about them." Vash looks very sad before he smiles ruefully and says, "I still see them. All the time." He leans down so they touch foreheads. Wolfwood’s sorrowful expression can be seen as Vash says, "You protect so much. I could never forget what you've done to me. And many others..."

In the last image, they're drawn more cartoonishly. Wolfwood sweats and asks, "You don't actually remember every wound, right?" Vash points at a spot on his chest. "Kuroneko left a scratch here 7 times." Wolfwood, startled, says, "Why the hell are you keeping count—" End ID]

Credits for ID here and here

[moeblob]

[trappedinafantasy37]

We did it guys! Minthara is in the top 100 most mentioned video game characters on Tumblr, sitting comfortably at rank 55!

With Astarion at rank 1 (cause of course), Gale at 5, Shadowheart at 6, Karlach at 8, Lae'zel at 9, Wyll at 12, Halsin at 16, Tav at 19, Gortash at 47, and The Dark Urge at 67. Baldur's Gate 3 is also the most talked about video game on this platform, as well as the 6th most talked about thing on all of Tumblr!

I wish Minthara was higher, but you know what, I'm happy she's on there at all! It is also interesting that she ranks higher than Durge and that Durge is that low on the list. It's also pretty interesting that there is such a discrepancy between Durge and Gortash as Durgetash is also the 67th most talked about ship on the platform. It is quite an achievement that our favorite drow is even on that list at all.

It is all just making me think back to some of the more dejecting AO3 statistics with Minthara almost being a blip, practically a statistical outlier in some ways. Even some insignificant side characters got more attention and adoration than her, or had numbers that would compare to her. But Tumblr is a much bigger platform than AO3, containing a much wider array of topics (including fanfics). So for Baldur's Gate 3 and Minthara to stand out that much is really saying something! Reading these statistics on Tumblr does go to show that one platform does not represent the entire fandom and that AO3 is only a piece of the picture.

[m1d-45]

the corner of 1st and 9th

summary: you've given a little too much information to your favorite barista... not that it matters, when he already knows.

word count: 3k

-> warnings: stalking . he is unwell guys

-> gn reader (you/yours) is a hot drink enjoyer . mb

taglist: @samarill || @sarienic || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr || @ryuryuryuyurboat || @undrxtxd || @rainswept || @wanderersqt || @rozz-eokkk

< masterlist >

reasons to NOT think that he is stalking you:

you tap your pen on the corner of your paper, eyes glancing between your writing and the clock. there’s no sound but the intermittent ac and the chatter of voices from the common room, a group of your dormmate’s friends that you’re not keen on interacting with. it’s a reminder of the fact that you’re assuredly spending too much time locked up in your room thinking about this, but you can’t stop. you haven’t been able to stop thinking about it, about him.

thoma was a normal barista at an innocuous cafe. and he was definitely, assuredly not stalking you… right?

you go there fairly often

the estate was a dimly unpopular cafe set right near your dorms, perfectly on the way to most of your classes and not too far out of the way if you wanted a quick bite. despite clearly being a family business, it had managed to partner with the university, and accepted the meal plan you were forced to buy. given its proximity to you and the fact that the other options got rather repetitive, you frequented the small shop. it was never too crowded, so it wasn’t impossible to assume that you were one of the few regulars.

there were exactly two consistent baristas that worked there, with the occasional new face only ever showing for a few days. there was no set uniform, as far as you could tell. one was a young girl, likely another student, who constantly yawned and always had to push up her sleeves to work the register. she didn’t talk much; the one time you had complimented her sweater, she looked at you like you were a raccoon that had waltzed in and tried to pay with cash.

the other was the object of your paranoia: thoma, a chatty redhead who always seemed to drag out the conversation longer than he had to. he didn’t wear a name tag, but did introduce himself after you gave your name for your order, like you were meeting as friends and not in a mercantile exchange. when he handed you your receipt, there was a doodle of a dog in a suit at the bottom wishing you a good day.

your schedule was rather uneven, what with waxing and waning stress and assignments and the various misaligned tests you had to take. but still, you had credits to burn and their menu was solid, so you came back whenever you wanted.

2. he’s just being nice

thoma was an occasionally odd guy, but not overtly strange. he smiled and said hello and goodbye in the regular tone someone in customer service would, provided they were either really enthusiastic about their job or desperately trying not to get fired. he wore a plain black tee and jeans and despite the silver tags around his neck, never really screamed ex-military. he seemed rather young to be deployed anyway…

regardless, he was still just a normal guy. it was normal to memorize someone’s order if they came back so often, right? normal. it was normal to ask why you looked tired, or what had happened if you were in a better mood, or to wish you luck if you were about to head to class.

he was a normal, nice guy. he never made a big deal if you came in near closing time—in your defense, their hours seemed to shift from week to week—and still recited your usual back to you in case it had changed.

it never did. his smile was proud whenever you said so.

he was forgiving, from what you could see. whenever another staff member made a mistake, or if a customer dropped something, or if a funny looking bird flew by the window and he spilled whatever he was holding, he was quick to laugh it off. he laughed a lot, actually. rarely was any visit when he was working devoid of it, whether loud and excited or quietly amused. when he wasn’t, he wore an easygoing grin, the kind that implicitly forgave you for tripping over your words or the rug by the front door. he worked quickly and quietly and sometimes you’d find you were given a discount “just because.”

3. you’re probably overthinking things.

the problem had started around the same time midterms did.

the attendees at the tables grew sparser, busy studying or sleeping or praying. there were days when you’d walk in and be the only one there, aside from whoever was at the counter that day. when you walked in, you had just enough time to see the deep frown etched on thoma’s face before it slipped away, customer service smile back on his face.

you debated over whether to ask the entire time you waited. it was the polite thing to do, wasn’t it? it wasn’t as if you were friends, but still. if someone’s sad, you ask why. that’s the normal thing to do..

he still called your name, despite you being the only one there. how did this place stay afloat? surely there was some bigger chain willing to pay the rent. the middle of a college campus was the best spot for a place selling caffeine..

now that you thought about it, why was this place so quiet?

you shook it off and went to pick up your drink, finding a small pastry there instead. you blinked, looking up to correct him, but he was already looking at you with the same smile as always.

“they’re going to go out of date soon,” he explained, “and we over-ordered, anyway. take as many as you want!”

…odd. this didn’t look like a new building. did they not know business slowed around this time?

but not too far out of order. you took the freebie, waited a few minutes longer for your drink, and went on your day.

reasons TO think he is stalking you:

he knows where you are

you, like everyone else, had assignments due, and tests to get to. your free time dwindled to a select few naps, and your, like everyone else’s, trips to the cafe slowed to a stop.

and yet, the next time you visited, he knew.

he knew.

you dragged yourself through the doors on a spur of whim, determined to reward yourself for making it through the past few weeks. god, you were tired. you blinked the exhaustion from your eyes long enough to find the barista on shift; thoma, as usual, greeted you with a smile.

“welcome back! same as usual?”

you nodded, digging through your wallet, but instead of punching in your order as usual, he reached behind him, setting down a to-go cup in front of you.

it was still steaming.

you froze, the sight settling into your exhausted mind, unable to even force your hands to pay.

why the fuck did thoma know you were coming back today?

you didn’t even know you were coming. this was an impulse, an idea you barely thought through.

after what you can only assume is too long, he lets out a laugh. not nervous, or uncomfortable, but the same casual laugh as when he spills something while someone’s watching. your eyes find his, easygoing and bright.

“i hope you’re not too surprised,” he starts, like you’re not keenly aware of every beat of your heart. “i just figured you should get some rest as soon as possible.”

is it worse, you wonder, if he just made the same drink every day until you came back and simply got lucky? that’s the only answer that doesn’t involve you calling student services, but even that makes your skin crawl. you pay as fast as you can and grab the drink, rushing the rest of the trip back to your dorm.

it went cold on your desk, too unnerving to ever take a sip of.

2. he knows your schedule

it took… a lot of mental energy to force yourself back to the estate. you didn’t even want to go, not really, but the other options nearby either didn’t take school credits or simply tasted worse. you didn’t know what it was, but it was always off. too strong, too weak, with an odd aftertaste. it was a different problem every time, one that wore down your resistance.

nothing was better than a (technically not) free pick-me-up. you had all these credits anyway, you might as well use them on something you actually liked, right?

it’s not like you were known for making good decisions, okay? maybe… maybe it was just a fluke? maybe you could ask him about it. there’s even a chance that it’s not him working the counter!

…yeah, not a chance. a quick glance inside shows the same bright copper hair as always… though the girl is at the register this time, and he’s in the back. there’s only a handful of other people inside, so you’re probably fine.

you walked in, the bell ringing, a few patrons looking up on instinct. the girl at the register does the same right as thoma abandoned the order he was working on, tapping her on the shoulder. “sayu, let me handle this one, okay?”

great. sayu, apparently, looks at you with what you can only describe as pity, shrugging and returning to the back counter. you stood a bit further from the counter than normal, but thoma still continued to smile.

“hey there! your usual?”

he looked so normal. you couldn’t ignore how pleasant his smile was, how easily he waved like he wasn’t the reason you stayed up until the sun rose, unable to look away from the cup on your desk. it almost annoyed you, knowing he probably didn’t even think about it. so you grabbed that irritation, twisted it into words, and pushed it through your teeth; “how did you know when i was going to come here?”

for a moment, his smile faltered. his laugh was quieter, nervous, nothing like before. he shrugged, pushing up the bandana around his forehead, green eyes avoiding yours. “ah, lucky guess?”

you’re a lot of things. stupid is.. probably on that list, given your presence here, but you’re not stupid enough to believe him about that. to his credit, he seems to recognize that, shoulders slumping with a sigh.

“okay, that’s a lie. i’m sorry.” he shakes his head, as if chiding himself for trying. “one of my friends happened to see you, and he said you looked upset. i thought you might appreciate the thought…?”

yeah, you might, if that wasn’t a fucking insane thing to do.

he looks sheepish enough, or as much as one can when it’s clear he doesn’t actually feel bad for what he did.

“…don’t do it again. it’s weird.”

it’s comical, how much he brightens, standing straighter like a flower finally put in the sun. “of course! if you don’t mind the wait, then i’m not complaining.”

that should have been it. you paid, you waited, and though sayu is the one that makes your drink it’s thoma that called you up to the counter. it’s a constant, at this point, same as your order and the chipper grin as he handed you your drink instead of leaving it there, a wax bag in his other hand.

“take this as an apology,” he explains, “i really didn’t mean to unnerve you.”

sure. you’re willing to believe that, if only for the sake of normalcy. you took both, the warmth easing your tense hands.

he lingered. he always did. he stood, and waited, and when he had enough of your staring, he spoke. “if there’s anything else i can do, just let me know. i could even give you my notes to study, if you want! i know you’ve got a test coming up.”

you’re learning to hate his smile. it’s so easy, his words soft and fluid with a genuine curiosity that sent chills across your skin.

there’s the possibility that he just also attends school. you’re aware of that. you swallowed your fear and managed the breath to ask what you really, really didn’t want to know. “do you also have ms yae?”

if you had access to a time machine… well, you’d stop yourself from ever stepping foot in the estate to begin with. but if you couldn’t do that, you’d come back to that instant, and keep yourself from ever asking such a stupid question.

some things were better unsaid. never did you understand that more than when thoma replied, eyes as sharp as a blade of grass.

“of course not. but you do, don’t you?”

you put your pen down, the ink from your anxious tapping now covering most of the upper corner of the page.

you hate it. you hate it. you hate that you wrote his name willingly, you hate that you’re so shaken by something you could have easily avoided, you hate that your life has taken such a turn.

you should have just stayed gone. you’ve stopped now, but now he knew you were stuck here for this semester. leaving mid-term would wreak havoc on your transcript, let alone your grades or schedule or however you were supposed to find another college to attend on such short notice.

you refocus on your list. objectively speaking, there’s more reasons to think this is normal, but the downside of lists like this is that they failed to fully capture the way your heart had dropped that day.

it was a month ago. a month, and you haven’t been able to stop looking over your shoulder whenever you went outside. you should really just call someone…

would student services be open at this hour?

you dig through the school’s website for a bit, but only find an address and a phone number for the department head. what “department” this falls under, you’re not sure, and you’re not keen on making a call less than an hour before midnight, so you don’t ask either. no dice. not for a few hours, at least. it’s just you, not really alone in your dorm, both because of the phantoms in your periphery and the fact that the walls are thin, letting you hear the cheers and disappointment of whatever game they’re playing in the common room.

it’s a bit of an anchor. the world is still going to turn, after all, and you need to be ready to meet it; you need to rest. being on edge for so long is wearing you down, and the weight on your shoulders will only grow if you keep sitting here. after a moment to consider the paper, you rip the list of your worries into short shreds, dumping the remains into the trash. you stand, stretch, and begin to tidy up, plugging in your phone and reaching for your water bottle, only to find it empty. you must have forgotten to refill it in your panic.. you look to the door, mentally weighing the benefits of going out and refilling it. there’s people in the common room, and you’re not too keen on being looked at right now, but it’s not as if they’re the ones plaguing you. it’s a common room for a reason, and filling it now will reduce the number of things to do tomorrow morning.

in search of a blessing for your future self, you unlock and open your door, the voices getting louder. some are familiar, but you shelve the memories. you have a mission. you unscrew the cap as you walk, aiming for the small kitchenette against the wall. archons willing, you won’t even have to interact with anybody. you walk, avoiding their eyes and even doing a rather good job at it, in your opinion. you fill your bottle, lingering just long enough to get the cap on without spilling anything, and turn to leave.

in a moment of weakness, you glance at the tv. there’s some sort of pvp game going on, with both players and bystanders crowded around the lone couch, most watching the ebb and flow of victory in earnest.

most, except one. on the floor, hands neatly in his lap, is the last person you want to see. he’s missing his bandana, but he still has that same smile, one gloved hand raised in a familiar wave.

you don’t think about what he’s said or done. you don’t think about the fact that you definitely should have told your roommates not to let him in. no, all you can think about is the fact that he now knows where you live, right down to the suite number.

it takes a lot of effort to drag your eyes away, pulling your feet into the dorm. you don’t want to think about how much effort it will take to leave tomorrow.

you don’t want to think about what could be waiting for you.

[kelocitta]

There is currently a rather large discussion ongoing about the RW fandom behavior, drama, etc. I am not going to talk about the specifics of whats happened for a number of reasons. But what I do want to say is that if at any point you've harassed people over it, whether that be through anon asks or public posts- you did nothing but damage the ability for people to correctly process what is happening. You contributed nothing but harm to an already delicate situation. It does not matter what "side" you were on and I will not tolerate further interaction with me or my work if I found out you did such. If you let your personal hate for anyone boil over into threats, wishes for long term harm and petty comments meant to contribute nothing but slander or mental distress for the individuals involved who were already distressed (or acting irrationally) you did nothing but make it harder for people to process their emotions, thoughts and behaviors constructively. Regardless of who you think was in the right, who fucked up, whatever. It doesn't matter if they deserved it, or earned it, or if its an eye for an eye. Its difficult enough as it is to think clearly when presented with any kind of stressful situation and heckling people does nothing but make it worse and harder for them to explain themself in any capacity. I don't want you anywhere near me if you think that is an acceptable way to act.

[margaetyrell]

why is there a war between city and beach. have you completely erased the seagulls from your memory. can’t 1989 just be both??? why won’t you let beach bejewelled. she’s literally clean

[lgbtlunaverse]

Thinking of the Nie disciple that told Nie Mingjue it was Meng Yao who stayed behind to clean up corpses on the battlefield today.

Nie Mingjue didn't just randomly stumble upon poor lil meowyao eating bread in the novel, he was already looking for him to thank and reward him for his work.

That's what makes it so fun that nieyao's first conflict will end up being about someone else taking credit for Meng Yao's work.

And I'm sure that Nie Mingjue's actual opinions on plagiarism are a lot more nuanced, all we really get from him in this scene is "well you shouldn't kill someone over it!" which leaves a lot of room for what punishments he thinks are appropiate. But I bet that it isn't occuring to him in this moment that the only reason he knows Meng Yao at all, the only reason he got such a capable deputy, is that he noticed someone was taking care of the dead and cared enough to want to know their name. And then the Nie disciples didn't lie to him. The disciple he asked could have said "it was me, Zongzhu" to rise in the ranks himself, but he didn't. He went and asked others, who all also could have taken the credit, but they didn't. Someone saw Meng Yao working and decided to be honest about it and that simple decision is the catalyst for Meng Yao becoming Nie Mingjue's deputy.

Meng Yao can't just work hard to get results, others have to acknowledge that work. If they don't, it's as if he didn't do anything at all.

[thealogie]

Hi, may I use your blog to promote Mexico’s response to Emilia Pérez?, it’s a crowdfunded short directed by a trans woman and entirely filmed in Mexico. It’s satire, it’s comedy, the songs are better and if it looks cartoonishly stereotypical then now y’all will know how mexicans feel about the french movie. It’s called Johanne Sacreblu and it’s on youtube. Thanks!

This is so good so far. I am dyyyying.

[dykedvonte]

Ulysses obsession with the Courier is a special type of sad to me cause the Courier’s part was so important but so unwitting. They had no idea what was in the package they delivered and neither did he. Neither had an idea of what it could’ve done and the Courier was only caring out their job (mind you the Courier could be killed via notes in the express contract if they don’t). To them it was just another regular delivery to the divide and one that they likely thought would help, just like all the ones before.

It’s so tragic for Ulysses to hold so much ire to the Courier when it really was the case of it could’ve been anyone. Anyone could have delivered that package but they did and so he focused the blame on them and it destroys what he is trying to instill in the courier on a fundamental level.

[mellosdrawings]

For the wings au... is there no uhhh. Safer?? Way to remove the wings like idk a surgery? Jamils family seems to (in some form cus I'm sure there's a better way) choose the painful and shitty health method of knife cutting like, every year?month? Like it sucks anyways but come on the health issues...

Anyways the art is amazing and it hurts so gooood

Oh, there would definitely be safer ways.

But they would leave traces. Official surgeries and all that involve a lot of time, paperwork and money, especially for a thing that has to be repeated very regularly.

And the Viper's problem is that NOBODY can know. Words travel fast, especially amongst servants. Should anybody figure out something is going on with them, that could bring problems to the whole family without a single feather having to be seen.

So secrecy it is. And pain.

For their safety.

(I'm glad you enjoy this series <3)

[catzz089]

“Omg could you imagine how terrifying it would be if your just having fun matting with your friends then suddenly an F1 driver pulled up??”

No, I couldn’t. I’m shit at imagining.

I Like writing though

“Charles, please. We are going to be late if you don’t hurry up.” Max called through the door to their bedroom.

“I’m almost done!” Charles screamed back, still rifling through something in their bedroom, causing an overflow of mess that Max would somehow be coerced into cleaning up.

Max sighed, how come this happens every single time Max tries to plan something nice for them both, he really just needs to let Charles stick with the planning.

Charles slammed the bedroom door open, waltzing up to him and spinning, throwing his arms out,

“How do I look?”

What idiot stares at Max with the most gorgeous looking face known in history, and a perfectky accentuating outfit and then has the gall to ask how he looks?

Well, aside from Max’s idiot bug that’s a conversation for another time.

“Gorgeous, get in the car.”

He sighed dramatically, “it’s like you don’t even love me anymore, baby.”

“That’s because I don’t,” Max deadpanned, “Now please get going, we are cutting it way too close right now.”

Charles grabbed his hand, and began walking outside, “We’ll be fine mom cœur, you’ve left us ages of time, stop stressing.” He brought their hands up, planting a delicate kiss on Max’s hand.

Max pouted, “you can’t just kiss me and expect me to forgive you for taking literal hours ti get ready.”

“Yes, I can. Now hop in.”

“Wait I thought I was driving?”

Charles opened the passenger door, forcing him down inside.

“Nope,” he said, popping the p, “you thought wrong. You’ve done too much, let me drive.” He began doing the belt on Max’s seat.

Which was entirely unnecessary.

But quite sweet.

Not that Max would ever admit it, Charles would get far too big a head.

Charles jumped into the drivers seat, resting a hand on Max’s thigh and high-tailing the car out of their, knocking over their own bin as he did.

“Seriously? If your going to destroy property, at least make it someone else’s, I don’t want to deal with that.”

“Then pay someone to deal with it, I’m pretty sure you have the money for that.”

Max sighed, leaning back in his seat and gripping onto the car door, it probably wouldn’t save his life but security was security when you’re in a car with Charles Leclerc.

By the time they reached the track, they very much were late, only by 10 minutes or so, but still.

Late.

Max grabbed at Charles’ hand, running off to the changing rooms and dragging him behind.

“Max! Come on,” he whined, “Slow down, I haven’t gone for a run this entire off season, I’m going to get a stitch.”

“Your not that unfit, Schat, I want to get in the track, hurry up!”

“Maxie,” he complained, again, “we are on the track like every weekend, why are you so desperate to go back, it’s our holiday.”

Max just huffed, shoving on his race suit- Redbull, obviously, he’s not wearing some rental- and dashing down to the karts.

Charles groaned, running after him.

There was already an array of kids, all around 6-14 years old already down there and driving.

Charles had the pleasure of watching first hand as their jaws dropped, and nothing but pure terror filled their eyes.

His oblivious little boyfriend however, was far too focused on finding one of the remaining karts with the best tires and bagging that for himself to notice the kids trying to escape the track.

It’s not like they were even going to be racing strangers, just eachother.

Yeah, sure, they may just happen to be driving in the exact same track at the exact same track, but neither of them would ever dare to cause an accident.

Hopefully.

When the started their karts, Max bolted it into the track, making some poor 10 year old serve his car out of the way to maintain a good distance away, Charles screamed an apology behind him and followed in quick pursuit.

Their two hour session lasted a lot like that.

Charles ramming his kart into Max, subsequently banging into another kid

Max screaming in delight at overtaking Charles, scaring the child in front, making her flinch so badly she binned it into the wall.

Charles realising that the kart he thought was Max’s, was in fact a slightly older kid, so yelling “I beat you!” Into his face as he crossed the start line a millimetre in front was NOT the flex he thought it was.

In Charles’ defence, Max was arguably far worse than him, deliberately falling behind Charles to beat into him one too many times that he too, forgot the difference between a monegasque F1 driver, and a teenager, swerving his car into hers, knocking them both out of the track.

It was the most fun either of them had felt in a long while.

Neither of them were allowed back.

[aprofessionalwithoutstandards]

I loveeee love love transfem Spy hcs but like I literally cannot imagine posting any sort of art or writing about her idk how yall bear it. If I posted art of a character I was interpreting as a trans woman and all the notes were like "omggg I love this I love HIM. HE looks so WET AND PATHETIC isn't it so PATHETIC and FUNNY when MEN wear DRESSES" I'd fuckin kill somebody

[tropicalcontinental]

Saw this comment below one of andrewgaming67's videos and I got hit with a vision