#what do you not understand. about the post

[cressidagrey]

Such A Mystery - Part 10

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Colette Leclerc (Original Character)

Summary:

Max Verstappen fell in love at the ripe old age of 12 and never looked back.

Colette Leclerc really regrets posting that particular Taylor Swift Lyric to her private Instagram account, because it made George Russell go insane.  

The rest of the world has absolutely no idea that the Dutch Lion and Charles Leclerc’s twin sister have been a couple for 15 years and are expecting a baby. 

Warnings: 

Pregnancy, Mention of multiple miscarriages, Pregnancy complications, George Russell Bashing (he's probably really nice in real life but in this, he's the bad guy, sorry), Jos Verstappen, We have apparently now reached the time where I also bash Ferrari. I am sure they are super nice in real life too. They are not in this. Labour.

Author Notes: Huge thanks to @llirawolf for holding my hand through this. Chapter 10 of 12!

“Breathe,” Victoria kept insisting.

“You are doing so well, Choupinette,” her mother cooed.

Colette was quite certain that she was going to die. 

At least it felt like it.

The pain was overwhelming. It didn’t feel like her body could take any more of it. The contractions were so strong and the pain was blinding in its intensity. She wasn’t certain if she could do this anymore.

“I can’t do this,” Colette choked out.

“Yes, you can,” Victoria insisted. Her voice was firm and steady. “You absolutely can do this. You’re already so far along, you just have to push. You can do this.”

"Just breathe," her mother said soothingly, stroking back her hair. "You are doing so well."

But she wasn’t doing well. 

She wanted Max. No, she needed Max.

She needed him so badly. She didn’t want to do this by herself. 

Colette cried out in pain as another very strong contraction hit her, clenching her teeth through it. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max."

"I know," Victoria said, stroking her hand. "I know you do. But you can do this. Just a little bit longer, okay? It won’t be long now."

She didn’t want to do this without him. But what other choice did she have?

A strangled sob escaped her throat as she clutched her mother’s hand desperately as another contraction hit.

“We’re going to need you to push now,” the doctor said firmly. “You need to start pushing with the contractions.”

Colette cried out in pain as she tried her very best to push like they were telling her to. The pain was blinding in its intensity. But it hurt. Gods, it hurt more than anything that she had ever experienced. It was like her body was about to rip itself in half.

"You’re doing so well," her mother cooed.

"Keep Pushing."

Another strangled scream escaped her. "Max," she sobbed. "I need Max. I need him. I can’t do this.”

Victoria stroked her hair. "It’s almost over, Colette. It’s almost over. Just a little bit more," Vic promised her. 

Colette wanted to give up, she wanted to give in. She wanted the pain to end. But more than anything else, she just wanted Max.

Another scream was torn from her, a ragged cry of pain as a particularly severe contraction tore through her. She was certain that she wasn’t going to survive this. The pain was too severe.

"Keep Pushing."

"Keep Pushing."

"Push, Push, Push"

She didn’t understand how they expected her to keep going. She could feel herself flagging, she was so exhausted.

The room was a blur around her, dark spots dancing at the corner of her vision. The sound of her own screams echoed in her ears, the pain almost overwhelming. She thought she was going to pass out.

She heard the door open.

A small part of the pain-hazed part of her mind registered the sound. She thought she was hallucinating. Surely that wasn’t the sound of the door opening. Surely she was just losing her mind under the excruciating strain.

“That took you too fucking long,” Victoria snapped. Colette would have smiled, if she hadn’t been currently in the middle of pushing. Max's familiar voice echoed in her ears, and for one sweet second, the pain all but vanished.

And then he was there.  Her heart jumped and a small sob escaped her. Max. It was really Max. He was there. He was right beside her.

Dry lips pressed against her sweat slick forehead. “Liefje.“

He was there. He was really there. 

"Max," she sobbed out. "You’re here. You’re really here."

"Of course I am," he said shakily. He pushed back her sweaty hair from her forehead. "You didn’t think I was going to let you do this without me, do you?"

She wanted to tell him that, in all honesty, she had thought exactly that. If he hadn’t shown up, she would have had to do this without him. But she was too exhausted, and in too much pain to form the words. All she could do was clutch at his hand, desperately clinging onto him like a lifeline.

Max immediately threaded his fingers through hers, holding her hand tightly. "I’m right here," he soothed. "I’m not going anywhere.” He was giving her something solid to hang onto. 

“Another push,” the doctor encouraged.

With Max holding her hand, Colette gave one last, desperate push.

She was certain that she was going to pass out. She didn’t understand how she was still conscious. The pain was mind-numbing in its intensity. "Once more,” the doctor said firmly. “I can see the head. Just one more push.”

Colette whimpered, her breath coming in short sharp sobs. "I can’t,” she cried in exhaustion. "I can’t."

"You can,” Max said fiercely. “You are the strongest goddamn person I know, and if anyone can do this, it’s you. Just one more push, come on, liefje."

His grip on her hand was so tight, it was almost painful, but that brief moment of pain was worth it. Feeling Max's presence beside her, holding onto her so desperately with his fingers threaded firmly through hers, it was the only thing that gave her the last little bit of strength that she needed.

With a long, ragged scream, she gave one last push, pouring everything she had into it.

She could hear Max beside her, talking to her soothingly, but the words were all blending together. Her senses were slowly fading. "Push, you can do it, you’re almost done." The words were coming at her from all sides now, swirling and echoing amongst the darkness of her hazy vision, and it was all she could do to grip Max’s hand, and listen to the sound of his voice.

And then it was over.

The searing pain suddenly stopped. 

For just a moment, everything was quiet. 

A cry cut through the sudden silence

The sound echoed around them, small and shrill and so very loud in the stillness of the room. A choked gasp of relief escaped Colette as she slumped back against the pillows, utterly exhausted.

"There you go," Max murmured, gently wiping back the hair from her forehead. "It’s over, it’s over now. You did so well, liefje. You’ve done it."

She wanted to speak, to say something to him in return, but her tongue was so heavy in her mouth it would hardly form words. Her mind was still a blur of exhaustion, relief and adrenaline. All she could muster was a small whimper as she felt his hand gently stroking her hair.

The sound of the infant’s cries rang out again, more strongly this time. “Here,” the doctor said, sounding a little amused. “Let’s get that little girl on maman’s chest.”

Through the haze, Colette felt an immense amount of exhausted relief, as the doctor carefully placed a small, wiggling bundle on her chest.

The baby was beautiful. Small and new and perfect, and Colette felt like the very breath had been knocked out of her. All the exhaustion and the pain was suddenly entirely worth it as she cradled the tiny baby in her arms.

"Hello, bébé," she breathed softly, the words coming out as a whisper. “I thought you were going to be a boy,” she choked 

A broad smile covered her face as she gently stroked the downy soft tufts of dark hair covering the baby’s head. The small, tiny, perfect little fingers wrapped around her own, and Colette’s heart felt so full it felt like it was going to burst.

"I was right," Max said, the words somewhat choked. His voice sounded almost strangled, and she didn’t need to look to know that there were tears running down his face.

Colette looked up at him then, taking in with a mixture of affection and amusement how utterly awestruck he looked. He was crying openly, tears running unashamedly down his cheeks.

“We did it,” she told Max.

“We did,” He said, his voice still choked with emotion. “She’s so beautiful.” Max sounded utterly wrecked.

Colette couldn’t help but share his feelings as she looked back down at the baby in her arms. The small infant had opened her eyes for a brief moment, revealing the most vividly blue eyes that Colette had ever seen. “She got your eyes.”

“And your hair,” Max said, reaching out a hesitant hand to touch the soft dark locks on the baby’s head.

The baby gave a little gurgle, waving her tiny hand as if to reach out for his fingers. “Hello, mooi meisje,” he said softly, his voice still sounding a little choked, as the baby tried to wrap her fingers around his own.

"She's absolutely perfect," Colette whispered, unable to tear her eyes away from the tiny, perfect bundle of joy in her arms.

"Just like her mother," Max said, his voice hoarse. He stroked his finger down the baby's soft cheek, the most gentle of touches.

***

In the end…he made it with minutes to spare.

He couldn’t describe the relief that he felt when he finally burst through the door, to find Colette in the midst of giving birth. He had been so terrified that he wouldn’t make it in time.

And now here he was, sitting beside her on the bed, their daughter in her arms, safe and sound and utterly, utterly perfect.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them both. Colette was beautiful, despite looking utterly exhausted. Her face was pale and slick with sweat, but she had never look more lovely.

And their daughter… Their daughter was perfect. Tiny, and new, the sweetest thing that Max had ever seen. He gently ran his finger down her soft, plump cheek, marveling at the sheer fragility of her.

And he couldn't stop crying. This was his family. His.

They had hoped so desperately for so long, and now there was their little girl. And she had been worth it. Worth all the heartbreak.

His eyes stung and his throat was constricting, but he couldn't help it. He knew he must look a mess, tears running unashamedly down his face and throat choked up, but it didn't matter. None of it mattered. They were here, and safe, and together.

He looked down at the baby’s tiny, perfect face, her closed eyes, her nose. She had Colette’s hair, and his eyes, and Max thought that if it was possible to die of love, he was dangerously close to that moment right there.

He reached out a shaking hand to touch his daughter’s tiny fist, his own hand dwarfing hers. She opened her eyes again for a brief second, and he could have sworn that she smiled at him for just an instant.

The tears ran more freely down his face now at that thought. His daughter, his little girl, his precious perfect baby, smiled at him. It might have just been a trick of his own overjoyed emotional state, but right then, Max was convinced that it had been a real smile.

"She's perfect, liefje," he whispered, his words coming out a little choked. "She's so damn perfect.”

"Dad, you want to cut the cord?" the doctor asked him.

The question seemed to take a moment to register in his hazy emotional state, but when it did, Max’s breath caught in his chest for a moment. And then just as quickly, he nodded mutely.

In a daze, he reached for the small pair of scissors that the midwife handed over to him, cutting the umbilical cord under her careful supervision.

He was in a daze, even when they took his daughter from Colette to check her over and bath her. "Stay with her," Colette told him softly. "Go on."

Max nodded, unable to find the words to answer to her. He stood up on slightly shaky legs, watching as the midwife took his daughter over to the small bassinet and started to check her over.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight of his baby, tiny and perfect and theirs. All the years of trying, all the hope and the heartbreaks, and now there was their little girl, safe and sound.

He got to watch her be bathed and then swaddled right into a soft pink swaddle that he knew he himself had bought because Colette kept insisting that it was a boy...and then he finally got to hold her in his arms and cry some more, because she was perfect.

He cradled her small, tiny form in his arms, his fingers trembling a little as he gently touched the soft downy skin of her cheek. Her weight was barely anything at all in his arms, and for a moment, terror gripped his heart. Was he holding her too hard? What if he hurt her?

"You aren't going to hurt her," Victoria said suddenly and he stared at his sister that sat down next to her. "You aren't. I promise you. Babies aren't as breakable as they look," she teased him softly. "Congrats, Maxie."

Max nodded, a little startled. He had honestly forgotten that his sister was even there, the arrival of his baby girl had taken up most of his attention.

"Thanks, Vic," he managed, his voice still choked. 

He looked down at the baby in his arms again. They had wrapped her tightly in the pink swaddle that he himself had insisted on months ago. He had been so sure that the baby was a girl. And he had been right.

He wouldn't have cared either way, but...he had been right.

"She's perfect," he whispered, his eyes burning.

Victoria smiled, watching him with a softness in her eyes that Max wasn't sure he had seen before. “You’re a father,” she said simply. “How does it feel?”

“Like my heart’s going to explode with pure happiness,” Max admitted, looking back down at his daughter in his arms. “Like I can’t breathe. Like I’m dreaming. I don’t…I don’t know how to describe it.”

"Welcome to the sleep deprivation community that is parenthood," Vic joked softly. "You are going to be the best father," she told him.

It made him choke up. That absolute certainty with which his little sister said that, a hand on his shoulder. "You are going to be the best father to her," Victoria promised him fiercely.

Fresh tears welled up in his eyes as he looked up at his sister. “I’ll do my best,” he managed to say, his voice a little choked. “I’ll do absolutely anything for her, for both of them. Anything in the world.”

They didn't often talk about their childhood...about all the things that had gone down...the long drawn out screaming matches they could remember before their parents had divorced and the separation that came afterwards...

They didn’t like to talk about it. It was one of those things that they usually just skirted around, because when they brought it up, old feelings and emotions came up with it. And the fights weren’t pleasant to remember...

But in that moment, Max felt a profound sense of relief. For the first time, he was glad those fights had happened, because if they hadn’t…he and Vic wouldn’t have the relationship they had now, and he wouldn’t have learned, from all of the pain and heartbreak of those fights, what not to do. He never wanted his daughter to grow up like that. He never wanted her to feel the pain of a broken family like they had.

And he knew that he would do absolutely everything in his power to prevent that from happening. He and Colette would keep their family tightly together and protect and love their little girl with everything that they had.

No matter what.

A fresh wave of tears welled up in his eyes at the thought of that. "I don't ever want her to grow up like we did, Vic," he managed to say, the words still a little choked. "I don't ever want her to feel like we did."

"She won't," Vic assured him, her voice still soft. "Because you're going to be a great father. She'll grow up feeling loved and wanted and safe. I know that, Maxie."

His throat felt as if it was slowly closing up. "Thanks, bink," he managed to say, his voice cracking. "It means a lot. I..." His eyes stung, and he swallowed hard. "I couldn't ever thank you enough for being here. For being with us."

For coming even when he handn’t asked…for somehow knowing without being told what they needed.

His sister just smiled at him, her blue eyes, so similar to his own, sparkling. "She’s my niece," she reminded him. "You're not getting rid of me. I'm going to spoil her rotten, you know that?"

"You are going to have fierce competition, Victoria" Pascale said softly.

He looked up to where Colette's mother was tucking her own daughter back into the bed, fussing over her. Colette looked better than she had before, freshly showered, still exhausted, but no longer...no longer looking like she was going to faint any minute.

Colette was already sitting up, even though she would be in pain for a while, a testament to her usual stubbornness.

"Maxie." Colette didn't need to say more than that, as he stood and crossed the room, safely putting their daughter back on her mother's chest.

He sat on the edge of her bed, careful not to jostle her too much. "Hey," he said softly, wrapping an arm gently around her shoulders. "How are you feeling, liefje?"

"I'm okay," she said softly, resting her head weakly against him. "Sore. Tired. Happy. Went through 6 hours of labour, only to give birth to your and Charles' clone," she said drily, making her mother laugh.

Max smiled faintly, resting his head against hers. “Charles?” he said, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"She does look awfully similiar," Pascale agreed.

Max gave a small laugh, glancing back down at the baby. He supposed there was a resemblance, if one knew what to look for. “She’s not a clone,” he countered, a note of mock offense in his voice. “She’s a perfect mix of us.”

"With what I am pretty certain is Charles' nose," Colette said drily.

Max laughed faintly, reaching out to gently touch the baby’s tiny nose with his finger. It narrowed just so at the tip… “Maybe,” he conceded thoughtfully. 

His daughter stirred faintly at the contact, a small noise coming from her mouth that sounded a bit like a grumble. Max smiled at the sound. 

“And I’m pretty sure she’s just as stubborn as her mother,” he teased Colette.

She reached up to lightly smack his hand, but her smile was fond. “Like you aren’t just as stubborn,” she retorted.

Their daughter took that moment to complain loudly for once and Colette shifted her slightly, unbuttoning her pyjama top.  At least one thing went down with absolutely no fuss whatsoever. A few minutes later, their daughter had greedily nursed, burped and was back to slumbering quietly. 

"Are the three musketeers still outside?" Colette asked.

“They are,” Max confirmed, brushing a strand of hair back from Colette’s face. He had all but forgotten about Colette’s brothers.

"Get them," Colette said softly.

Max smiled. "All of them?" he teased. He knew that was exactly what she had meant."All of them," she nodded.

[cazort]

so this is an interesting post because although i hate when people put gum under tables, i think i can understand the mindset that people might be in when they do it. and i hope i can help others to understand it too. i bet if you reflect on this post you will realize you have things in common with these people.

it basically happens when people are chewing gum and they want to stop, but they don't have an easy place or way to throw it away. maybe they are not carrying a wrapper or any paper, there is no trash can in the room they are in, or they are not allowed to get up to go to the trash can (a frequent problem in some authoritarian school settings, incidentally) or they might even be too lazy to get up and go to the trash can, and/or to find a wrapper or paper to stick the gum in.

i know this sounds gross, but some people are not particularly averse to germs and have no qualms sticking the gum there temporarily; they may have the full intention of actually taking it back and putting it in their mouth again and chewing on it. and then they may forget.

they might be sticking it there temporarily with the intention of returning with a wrapper or paper and then later placing it in the trash, but again, they may forget.

also though, people may see sticking the gum there permanently as a less-harmful alternative than dropping the gum on the floor where someone is likely to step on it. stepping in gum is really gross, often much more inconvenient than merely touching hard gum stuck to the bottom of a table. part of the reason why is that gum on the ground is more likely to melt, such as if sun shines on it, and stepping in that can be really nasty. gum on the underside of a table is less likely to melt for the simple reason that direct sunlight is unlikely to shine on it.

lastly, and this is a huge factor, consider that there may be really deep, systemic factors that are operating that make the other person's whole cost/benefit/risk calculus and decision-making process radically different than our own.

consider:

people may have mental or developmental disorders that limit their reasoning ability. like all the logic in your head about why it is a bad idea or inconsiderate to others to stick gum to the bottom of the level, may be over their head.

people may have trauma about authority figures that leads them to not want to get up and go to a trash can (imagine if a person has trauma about getting up to go to the trash can as a kid, and getting yelled at or otherwise harshly punished)

people could be dealing with all sorts of severe stuff (mental illness, drug addiction/withdrawal, malnourishment, severe stress, an abusive home environment, sleep loss or deprivation) that you may have no clue about. the little item of what they do with their gum may be so tiny relative to the stuff they are dealing with that it isn't even on their radar. they may be trying as hard as they can to hold it together and avoid a much worse problem than sticking gum to the bottom of a table, and in a moment of weakness they stick the gum there as the path of least resistance.

consider that people who have all sorts of crazy stuff go wrong in their life on a day-to-day basis may see the imposition of accidentally touching a gross piece of gum on the bottom of the table, as a trivial inconvenience, not worth worrying about. so they may not even perceive it as an imposition on others. consider for example that some people have to deal with rats and roaches in their home, bullets coming through their walls when they sleep, being beaten or abused by family members, being harassed by police, being bullied or subjected to violence by peers, and all sorts of other stuff. if this is your world, seriously, what is a piece of gum? it's nothing.

do i like it? heck no.

would i rather live in a world where there is no gum stuck to the underside of tables? heck freaking yes.

but i don't really think there is a fundamental gap between myself and people who stick gum there.

i think the thought exercise you go through when considering this small annoyance, this minor instance of disgust, is useful because the same processes are helpful for understanding more severe impositions on people's convenience, or even health and safety. and we all know that we live in a world where there are more severe impositions we deal with, sometimes on a daily basis.

i want to be compassionate and understanding of others, especially people who are doing things i find harmful. i don't want to "other" these people, i want to understand them, because that opens the door to helping them and ultimately stopping the behavior.

maybe it's as simple as making sure there are trash cans in every room. maybe it's more complicated like helping people work through their trauma, or solving deep social ills in society. whatever it is, i want to do all these things. i want to live in a world where there is no gum on the bottom of tables, and i think that in this world, a lot of other problems would be solved too. it's all interrelated.

i cannot relate to people who put gum under tables i have nothing in common with people who put gum under tables i honestly find it hard to accept the humanity of people who put gum under tables

[pboogerswbb]

SO IT GOES - chapter 6

Paige Bueckers x oc Warnings: language, sexual content and language, being sick? overthinking? p being melodramatic Wordcount: 4.4K A/C: was feeling inspired :)) anyway pls be patient with me posting, i'm applying to schools rn!! anyway this went a direction i hadn't planned but... uhh... i have no excuses i was going with the flow. anyway enjoy x (also what a scare yesterday just hoping p is doing fine and i'm sure everything's okay!)

-

Before London

You need a ride to work tmr?

I don’t but thank you x

My eyes roam the texts as they had repeatedly since last night, trying to decipher each letter as if some ancient code I couldn’t understand. Is she seriously gonna be like that? Like she wasn’t the one who pulled me in. She kissed me. Why was she taking it out on me now? I don’t got time for this anyway, to be stressing about something like this. 

I hadn’t seen Izara since Saturday, not at work, not in the apartment building, hell, I’d even gone to the gym every morning praying that she might show up but it was as if the girl had disappeared from the face of the earth. I knew she was avoiding me, and I guess she had reason but fuck, I thought she’d be better than that. Not a word since Saturday, other than those strange cryptic texts. Fine. Be that way.

“My favourite girls!!” Trey’s voice blatantly interjects my spinning thoughts as me, Arike, Satou and Lou are sat at a circular table, eating lunch. Not that I had been eating per say, more so poking my fork here and there trying to stomach a piece of chicken now and then. The heaviness in the pit of my stomach made it hard to eat at all.

I lift my eyes, hoping Izara would be trailing behind the man as usual. But it’s Ava instead, holding a notepad and taking quick steps to keep up. I mean I knew it wasn’t Iz before even looking up - there was an uncomfortable void of heels tapping against the hardwood as the pair approach us eagerly.

“Oh hey!” Lou smiles from her chair next to me. “What’s up?”

“So we were thinking,” Trey starts, leaning forward against the table. “If y’all could film some clips answering comments on your own since our dear Zari isn’t here.”

“Uh, where is she anyway?” I ask as casually as I can - though the way everyone’s heads snap to me tells me it was a feeble attempt.

Trey’s dark brown eyes study me for a while with an expression I can’t quite read before answering. “She’s home sick, poor girl.”

Bullshit. She’s trying to avoid me, I know it. I can’t believe it, I thought she would be more mature than this, than faking being “sick” just to get away from an awkward conversation with me. Why was she assuming how I felt anyway? Like the kiss mattered to me? Like I’d want more?

I mean all that was true. God did it matter and God did I want, no, need more. Much more. But she didn’t know that, so why was she assuming. I thought we were friends. You know what this is? Bad friendship.

“Oh damn, hope she feels better,” Arike answers for me, noticing the way I’m gone in my thoughts.

“Y-yeah for sure,” I mumble, letting out a frustrated sigh. “I’mma go to the weight room.”

I place the fork down on my half eaten plate harshly, getting up abruptly making my irritation quite clear to everyone around me.

“Paige you gotta eat a little more,” Lou encourages but I shake my head.

“Nah, m’ not hungry,” I murmur and take my plate back, preparing to take out my aggravation at some weights, ignoring the way Arike and the rest of the girls eye me as I walk away.

-

“So how are we feeling about the first game soon?” My dad’s voice echoes through the speaker but I barely hear him, pacing my apartment’s living room. Truthfully I hadn’t thought much about the upcoming game. I knew that was bad. That I should be ecstatic, or scared as hell, but I didn’t feel anything else besides the dread of what happened between me and Iz. 

Matter of fact, I hadn’t been able to think of anything else but the way she looked all night, the way her green smoked out eyes twinkled at me, the way she threw her head back when she laughed at my jokes, when she pressed her front against me. The way her full breasts felt against my chest, the way her round ass felt under my hands. God, the whimper she let out when I squeezed it as gently as I could.

“Paige?”

“Uh what?” I mumble, ears burning, completely forgotten about the call with my dad.

“What’s going on with you?” His secure, steady voice asks, grounding me.

“Nothin’ dad,” I murmur, rubbing my eyes and looking out the window into the street, eyeing every dark haired woman just in case they were Izara.

“Paige Madison.”

I groan. I might be 23-years-old but my dad’s stern voice turns me into a teenager without fail each time.

“You’re comin’ to the first game still, right?”

“Yes, of course,” he says, like it’s obvious. “Why?”

“Nothin’, just miss you,” I mumble, coming up with an excuse for my low mood - though it wasn’t far off. Everytime I felt sad or anxious I just wanted my dad.

“I miss you too, kid. You know you just say the word and I’m there, okay?”

“No I know, I know. I’m just tired I think,” I sigh, my chest warming at my dad’s comforting words.

“Uh oh,” he starts. “Paige Madison… Don’t tell me.”

“Huh? Tell you what?”

“Is this about a girl?” He asks.

I pause, coming to a halt with my pacing. “Hu- I- What?!”

“You always say “I’m just tired” when you got a girl on your mind,” my dad laughs, doing a horrible impression of me.

“No!” I argue a little too fast and a little too passionately. “I mean, no. Just tired. Long practice.”

“Mhm alright,” my dad mumbles, an amused tone in his voice that irritates me in a way only a parent could. “So no girl?”

“No dadddd,” I whine like a teenage girl. “There’s no girl.”

I didn’t like lying to him. I wanted to tell him all about Izara. I knew my dad would adore that girl. He always said I needed a woman to keep me in check - Izzie did just that. But I also didn’t want to tell my dad about this girl knowing it likely wasn’t going to go anywhere, especially now that she had been hiding from me since our kiss.

“Okay dad tell Drew I said hi and I’ll play Fortnite with him tomorrow,” I say into the phone, ready to hang up.

“Okay kid, love you.”

“Love you dad.”

The silence is deafening, again. Like it used to be before I became friends with Iz. I felt alone, anxious, my head spinning with thoughts I couldn’t turn off. I thought she was mature enough to handle this like two adults. If she just wanted to be friends then she could just tell me, at least we could continue our friendship like that.

But usually when I kissed a girl, they didn’t run away like this. Quite the opposite. Did she not like the way I kissed? Was I off my game? Maybe the tongue was too much? Maybe she didn’t like my outfit. I’m a good kisser, I know I am. Good enough to get girls into bed with ease. So what is the trouble now? And I also know that that was the best kiss I had ever had. That our lips fit together just right. Fuck this girl had me going out of my mind. And now I just had to wait for her to reach out, it didn’t feel fair.

No. It wasn’t fair. Why did I have to wait for her? Who said I had to? Fuck that.

Too frenzied to even throw a shirt over my sports bra, I walk downstairs determined, knocking on Izara’s door angrily, preparing a speech of everything I’d been thinking the past few days: Look, Izzie, we’re both adults. You clearly think the kiss was a mistake. But avoiding me and acting like this is ridiculous and stupid and we don’t need to be acting like teenage-

“Paige?” 

Izzie opens the door, voice weak and nasally. She’s in a pale pink pyjama set, hair up in a clip and nose red and irritated. She wasn’t lying. Definitely not. She is sick. 

Quick, improvise.

“Uh, hey,” I mumble, my cheeks turning pink, her red eyes staring up at me reminiscent of Saturday night and the moments before our kiss on the balcony. “Trey told me you were sick.”

She chuckles, looking down at her dishevelled appearance and returns her gaze to me. “How did you know,” she jokes. She’s acting like nothing happened between us. How could she act like that? I guess it’s better than if she actually had been avoiding me.

“Was worried, haven’t seen you since… The party,” I say unsurely.

“Uh… Yeah. Crazy party huh,” Izzie says almost to herself. “Well, anyway, thanks for checking in but I’m perfectly okay. Just a cold and I think it’s passing.”

She begins to close the door but I grab it, holding it open.

“You been resting?” I ask concerned.

The girl shrugs. “Well at first but now I’m just getting bored so I’ve been doing some work from home.”

“Izzie…”

“What?”

“You gotta be restin’ if you’re sick,” I argue, which makes the girl roll her eyes.

“I’m fine Paige,” she answers, but I step inside.

“Let me in.”

“No, you’ll get sick,” she complains but I shake my head.

“I won’t. I’m built different.”

Izzie laughs, deciding it was pointless to try to argue and lets me in.

Her apartment is spotless as always, laptop open on her dining table with schedules and notebooks piled next to it. This bitch hadn’t been resting, no she’s been working and cleaning.

“Izzie!” I groan and close the laptop.

“Shoes! Shoes shoes shoes!” She yelps, voice breaking as she does. 

“‘M sorry!” I gasp and take my sneakers off quickly, placing them neatly by the entrance. I feel her eyes fixed on me. 

“Do you ever wear a shirt?” She asks, blowing her stuffy nose, which makes me let out a single laugh.

“Why, you want me to?” I ask confidently, easily falling into the same effortlessness as before.

My words make the girl blush. Perhaps the kiss wasn’t that bad? Fuck, I don’t know. Maybe I should just ask… Ask what?! If the kiss was good?! Bro… Get a grip.

“Well you’re going to get cold, it’s freezing here,” she tells me, turning away and walking to the couch where pillows are neatly arranged, an expensive looking blanket neatly folded on the armrest. I didn’t have the heart to tell her it definitely was not cold, that her apartment was scorching hot already making me sweat.

“Yo, you’re kidding right?” I laugh as I watch her somewhat pitifully curling up against the corner of the couch on her single throw pillow.

“What?”

“Iz, you’re sick!”

“Wow, thanks for rubbing it in my face,” she says nasally, blowing her nose again.

“Bro, that pillow is just sad! You need a nest,” I gasp, walking to her bedroom.

“Wait wait wait, it’s a mess in there,” she yelps, following after me. Mess, it is not. There is one hoodie on the bed, which is unmade. That’s it. I pull the heavy blanket off her bed, grabbing all four pillows and walking decisively to the couch with the dark-haired girl on my tail.

“What are you doing?” She asks as I begin to set up each pillow into a nest against the corner of the couch. She’s grabbing my arm and peeking at my actions from behind my back, clearly confused.

“I’m makin’ you a nest,” I explain, brows furrowing as I focus. This is serious business. “My stepmom does this when we’re sick.”

“A nest?” Izzie laughs.

“Yeah, get in,” I order, grabbing the girl’s shoulders and sitting her down. “Now lie back. Get comfy.”

Hesitating for a moment, Izzie curls up against the pillows as I place the blanket over her, watching as she gets comfortable with a smile on her face.

“There you go,” I coo, trying her forehead which is burning hot. “You have a fever Iz, I’m gonna get you some meds.”

“Paige, you don’t have to do this,” she sighs, looking up at me softly. I want to lean down and kiss her again. Instead, I bring my hand to her warm cheek, stroking it softly. She looks vulnerable, gentle for once. It made me want her even more.

“Lemme take care of you ma.”

She doesn’t comment on the nickname, matter of fact there’s a hint of a smile on her face when she nods. 

“The cabinet above the microwave.”

“Got it,” I tell her, pretty much scurrying to the kitchen, gathering everything you could think - water, painkillers, nose spray, I even cut up some fruit for her. But when I return the poor girl is in her nest, cuddled up, fast asleep. It hurts my heart to wake her up, but she needs these meds in her.

“Iz,” I murmur carefully, brushing dark locks away from her face. She blinks herself awake, rubbing her face. Everything about it makes me want to wrap her in my arms and never let anyone close in case they hurt her. 

“Fuck, I fell asleep,” she yawns. “I’m sorry I’m a mess.”

“You’re sick ma,” I remind her, sitting next to the girl on the couch and watching as she takes her medicine.

“This is so embarrassing,” she murmurs, sipping on the glass of water. Her cheeks are bright red, hair undone and eyes tired - I swear it’s the most beautiful I’ve ever seen her look.

“Izara,” I say sternly. “You’re sick, lemme help.”

“You’re gonna get sick too, and you have your first game soon love.”

“I’ll be fine, I got mad immune system powers.”

She giggles. “Immune system powers?”

“You heard,” I nod, fighting a grin. She coughs a little.

“Paige?”

Oh God. She’s gonna bring up the kiss now. I know it. I can feel it.

“Y-yeah?”

She takes a deep breath. “Can we watch Lady and The Tramp?”

-

“How are you already crying?” Paige asks with a giggle, leaning against the opposite corner of the couch. 

“Lady as a puppy always makes me cry! How could it not?” I sniffle, wiping my nose, watching the scene where Lady doesn’t want to sleep in her dog bed, the poor puppy crying for her dad. 

The blonde is chewing on an apple in her sports bra and black Nike sweats, muscles grown more prominent over her training period with the Wings, arms bigger, shoulders wider, outline of the muscles on her abdomen faintly visible even as she slouches. 

“What kinda names are Darling and Jimmy Dear anyway?” She asks, dramatically frustrated.

“Paige, you’re slow,” I laugh. “Lady thinks those are their names because they call each other those as like, pet names darling.”

The blond thinks for a while, and then grins. “Oh.”

We both burst into a choir of laughter, though it feels rough against my scratchy throat. Still, I could feel the medication already making me feel better. Or maybe it was the company.

My mind had been a mess after I escaped the party. I felt embarrassed, childish even for running away like I did, leaving Paige high and dry. Once I woke up the next morning it was hard to figure out what truly happened and what was my mind playing tricks on me. But I knew the kiss really took place the moment I remembered it, the weight of Paige’s kiss a mere memory on my lips. One wouldn’t forget a kiss like that. It was impossible.

Getting sick had been a lucky coincidence, giving me time to think and take some distance from the situation. I found it impossible to figure out where my desire for Paige and desire for physical contact differed. I couldn’t tell if I was just lonely. Or if I really liked her. I never considered it, me having feelings (if you could call it that) for a girl again. But now as she sat there, looking like that, I wanted nothing but to get on her. To climb onto her lap and kiss her again like we had on the balcony. Without the drunken hue, just us feeling each other.

Even as sick as I am, the familiar burn and ache that always showed up around the blonde begins to grow between my legs, making me squirm. Fuck, maybe I did like her. All I knew I definitely wasn’t in a place to start anything - that no matter what this was it would have to stay casual. I haven’t gotten rid of the ghost of my past relationship. No, not at all. I could see it looming around every corner, peeking through windows, just right outside my line of vision. I wasn’t ready.

Paige’s hand comes over to my bare feet poking out of the blanket, bringing them to her lap and beginning to rub them almost as if subconsciously, like unaware of the entire thing. Except her cheeks turn red as she does. My entire body relaxes, and I let her. For almost half of the movie she massages each toe, the arch of my foot, my ankle, leaving goosebumps everywhere. 

“I’m cold,” I complain, pulling my feet back under the blanket, feeling like a block of ice.

“I’m so hot,” Paige groans, now more invested in the movie, making small comments here and there.

“Lucky,” I groan which makes her snicker.

“Scooch,” The blonde tells me. Before I can resist she’s made her way under the blanket, into the nest, lying behind me and wrapping an arm around my waist. I fit in her arms perfectly, like I was made to be her counterpart, born to be in her arms like this, every curve of her body slotting with mine just right. My ass pressing into her, the blonde’s chin brushing against my shoulder, hot breath tickling against my ear nearly making me moan. Fuck.

“I- I thought you were hot,” I mumble, beginning to lose my composure.

“But you’re cold,” she murmurs into my ear, nose nuzzling into my hair as we keep watching the movie. Though I can’t concentrate. Even on my favourite movie. My head spinning too fast, speeding up even more when my pyjama top hikes up and Paige’s fingertips rub circles against my lower stomach, dangerously close to dipping into my pyjama pants.

“P-paige,” I almost whisper, my voice coming out breathy.

“Mhm?” The blonde’s voice is shaky too, a hoarse hum straight into my ear making me even wetter than I already am.

“You’re gonna get sick,” I remind her, my chest heaving.

“I’m good,” she breathes out, shifting a little, her head fitting just in the crook of my neck. Perfectly. “Are you?”

She’s asking for consent, I can tell. To dip her fingers underneath the band, to slide them into my panties. And God I want to give it to her. To let her have her way with me. The temptation is growing nearly impossible to resist.

“I-” I nearly say it. But then I shift to my back, to meet her gaze. Paige’s face is flushed, nostrils flaring as she breathes, hand remaining on my bare stomach. “How are you feeling about the game?”

“Oh, uhh,” Paige is taken aback, pulling her hand back to my dismay, bringing it to her jaw and rubbing it. “I mean, I haven’t really thought about it if I’m honest? I’m excited to see my dad and Dorka.”

“She went to Uconn with you, right?”

The blonde nods. “I mean issa big moment for sure, but I just wanna take it one day at a time.”

I hesitate. “Are you not nervous at all?”

She lets out a single laugh and looks around the room. “Nah I am. Just tryna keep my mind off it.”

I nod, understanding. I wish I could carry some of her worry, I could tell she was more nervous than she let on. But instead of talking I slide my hand into hers, which seems to comfort the girl more than words, her blue eyes locking with mine. She’s thinking, mulling something over in her head. I can tell.

“The party… Iz, I-”

“Shh,” I tell her before she can keep going, my throat going dry, the ache between my thighs nearly painful. I wasn’t ready to talk, at all. All I wanted was to feel it again, the weight of her lips on mine. So bad I felt dizzy.

“Nah, Izzie, c’mon. I think we both feel we-”

“Paige?”

“Yeah mama?”

“Kiss me.”

-

It makes no sense. But I don’t hesitate. Leaning down, my lips crashing into hers with such hunger it makes me uncharacteristically whine. My body is on fire, every inch burning up as our lips slide against one another, boxers growing damp quickly. My hand carefully holds her cheek, like the girl next to me might break. But to my surprise she pulls me on top of her by the back of my head.

I’m tasting for every inch of her, slowing down and taking my time, unlike that drunken mess on the balcony. Somehow this is even better, the kiss of the century even. Her body is cool to the touch, a sign of the fever going down. But I barely register, kissing her bottom lip affectionately, my hands holding her face. Izzie responds, her teeth pulling on my lip harshly making me groan. Her warm tongue brushes over it, soothingly.

I open my mouth further, my tongue meeting hers, other hand moving to the bare waist of the girl underneath me. I can’t believe this is real. That I’m kissing Izara. It feels like some type of dream, but the ache between my legs proves that every second is real. That she’s really underneath me. And If I’m feeling my core throbbing just from the kiss, I’m certain the dark haired girl feels something similar and the idea of my girl feeling such pain and not having it taken care of breaks my heart.

So my thumb dips underneath the band of her satin pyjama pants, feeling the lace of her underwear as it does. Zari lets out a shaky whimper, her eyes fluttering open.

“Paige,” she whines, brows furrowing.

“Yeah?” I ask breathlessly, leaning down to kiss under her ear which makes her squirm under my weight.

“C-can you keep your hands,” another moan as I suck on her neck, careful not to leave a mark. Izara didn’t seem like the type of woman you marked. “On top of the clothes.”

God she’s gonna be the death of me. But I oblige happily, pulling my hand back to her bare waist.

“Whatever you want Izzie,” I say between ragged breaths, making the girl moan as I keep kissing her neck. Izara’s hands wrap around my back, long acrylics scratching at the skin there.

“Shit,” I cuss under my breath, feeling like I might die or cum in my pants if I don’t get to have her. Still, I keep kissing her, fully aware what a privilege it was just to be on her like this. I do everything to try to stay composed, to keep my cool, to focus on putting on my best show as I return back to sloppily kissing her lips, shifting on top of her, my other hand beside Izzie’s face to hold me up. 

As I move my hips, my knee presses into her core, against the sheer fabric of the pajamas making her gasp straight into my mouth. I repeat the movement with purpose now, and can feel the heat radiating off her, the fabric between her legs growing damp. She wants this just as bad as I do.

“Lemme keep going, please,” I whimper, brows furrowed and barely conscious of what is happening at this point. “Lemme help ma, won’t even touch you.”

Her face is contorted with need, chest heaving desperately. 

“It hurts don’t it? Lemme help,” I coo, my lips wrapping around her earlobe and sucking softly. “Please.”

“Paige,” she whimpers, her body shaking with need. But I feel her shift, legs wrapping around my body. “Please.”

Oh God, I might actually cum in my sweats.

I kiss her all over, her neck, bare shoulders, mind spinning with need, my cunt growing wetter and wetter with every moan that leaves Izzie’s lips as I push my knee against her core, gently, so as to not hurt her.

“P-paige,” she moans my name. My name. 

“Ohh fuck,” I cuss, squeezing my eyes shut at the way her voice sounds, deep and gravelly, turning more high-pitched each time I grind my knee into her cunt.

“Let me get you right ma, please,” I beg breathlessly, shaking my head to myself trying to keep myself present. “Please, Iz, would do anything to fuck you,”

She’s speechless, whimpering desperately, but I can feel her muscles turning tense from the pleasure I’m giving her, legs shaking gently.

“Would be so good, just lemme eat that pussy,” I moan into her ear. “Gimme five.”

Pulling back, I meet her gaze. Her contorted face, dark brows furrowed and lips parted, green eyes blown out black. This is the most beautiful she has ever looked. Easily. Could look at her like this forever.

I can tell she’s considering, mulling it over in her head. Just as her lips part the ring of her phone interrupts the moment, the obnoxious sound blaring over the movie playing in the back. Of course. I can never have anything good. Just little tastes.

“Fuck,” Izzie mumbles and abruptly sits up as if suddenly thinking clearly. I climb off her, watching as she fumbles to find her phone.

“Here,” I catch it, handing it to her. It’s Kiran, her brother.

“Fuck, I promised I’d help him with his paper,” she groans, still trying to catch her breath.

“Uh, okay,” I murmur, attempting to catch mine, awkwardly shifting further on the couch, watching as the girl gets up and walks into the bedroom, closing the door behind her, leaving me there once again. Wanting more.

-

taglist:@wbbgetsmewetter @thaatdigitaldiary @pb524830 @bueckersfive @lupinqs @sierrale8ne @d3arapril @lovegalor333 @avvwritesstufff @rosemariiaa @bueckers22 @taylynbueckers44 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @rizzlerbuckets @wosolipa @bridgetloveswomen @paiges-1vur @slut4uconnwbb @xxloveralways14 @bueckersbitch @janaelalfysblunt @omg-imtumbling @angryflowerwitch @ohbueckers

[krystella-shifts]

EVERYTHING IS CLICKING FOR ME Y'ALL!!! *ੈ✩‧₊˚

The only post you'll ever need for LOA. Literally.

It's so easy to manifest literally so easy once you do this. JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX, BE IN RECIVING MODE INSTEAD OF CONSTANTLY FEELING LIKE YOU HAVE TO DO SOMETHING. Yes sometimes it can be hard when you feel panic that you have to manifest as fast as possible but trust me once you TRUST, it'll all fall into your lap at the snap of a finger! Literally. You'll even feel better and happy instead of worrying and feel like waiting forever. The universe/god/your higher self, whatever you believe in is telling you or teaching you that the way isn't through worry, stress, pain, suffering. The way is through ease, love, trust. Once you understand this you'll ALWAYS and I mean ALWAYS be able to manifest without any effort. Yes, no need for that 21 days challenge, no need to set a reminder for every hour to affirm, no need to try hard to visualise every teeny tiny detail. Just have this inner knowing and relax. That's the cheat code. How easy is that? You literally have the cheat code and it doesn't require ANY effort outside and the most minimal effort inside.

Now let me explain all the manifestation techniques in more detail.

Every manifestation technique has one goal:

Think about any technique. Affirming, visualising, scripting,etc. All of these are for what? To remind you, you have your desire. YES not to get something. That's why Neville said feel it real is very powerful technique. Cuz that's what happens when we receive something right. But what we do in loa is we feel it rn and get it rn, and because the 3d is in the past, yes it's our past assumptions, that's why we say it's not real. So when we feel it real we already have our desire in the present, but the 3d is not in the present. So don't react to it. Just remember that. And after a few days of having our desire we don't get THAT excited, do we? So when you think about it again you don't have to feel anything or do anything cuz you already have it. AND THEN WE JUST SIT BACK AND RELAX. Again the same conclusion. Cuz that's it!

ALL YOU NEED TO EVER DO:

Decide what you want. And feel having it.

Remind yourself that you have ___ either saying it in your head, writing it down, etc

RELAX. SIT TF BACK. YES YOU DON'T NEED TO DO ANYTHING.

Whenever you think about ___ always remember you have it. And think naturally. How would you think having ___ cuz you do now.

Remember the 3d is a product of your past assumptions. Just like how we see the stars 8 years later of their actual form. Just like it takes 8 minutes for sunlight to reach the earth. If you remember this you won't ask "where it is" you know it is here. And yes u can manifest Shifting too.

Allow it to come to you. I don't chase i attract.

Yes that's what it means. And I am the living proof for that 😌💅🏻✨ I am literally living my dream life and bestie you are too. That's all you need to manifest (aka yourself). It's very simple but if you have any questions feel free to comment and keep me updated on your manifestation journey and success stories cuz I'd love to read them and know if my post helped you 🤭🥂 (atleast you can do that for me, right? ;p)

Love, ... redkittyjellyfish? Wait i need to change my user name 💀 (ps. I changed my user from redkittyjellyfish - Krystella-Shifts (⁠人⁠ ⁠•͈⁠ᴗ⁠•͈⁠) )

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

[smurphette98]

So, I did this not with a villain, but with an NPC from a D&D campaign I’m running on a day where the group didn’t meet. It’s under the cut if you wanna give it a read!

(CW: discussion of death, resurrection, the afterlife, and murder)

Subreddit: r/relationshipadvice

Title: I haven’t seen my husband in 5 years (because I was dead) and I just found out that he left our daughter with his mother for that whole time.

Posted by u/Lovemordian

Apologies in advance if my Common isn’t great; it isn’t my first language.

I (21F) was recently resurrected by a party member of my husband’s (now 26M) after dying in his arms five years ago. Admittedly, the experience was wonderful, since I had always hoped that magic was real and not just the stuff of children’s stories, and I am not upset at living once more. The afterlife is…well, it’s beyond what I need to discuss here.

The issue I am having is this: while I was dead, I was comforted in the knowledge that our daughter (now 8F) was not going to grow up completely parentless even if I could not be with her. However, when I saw her again after returning to life, she mentioned that her grandmother, my husband’s mother, had been caring for her this whole time. She did not grow up with her father, and the one thought that had kept me sane while wandering the fields of the waiting became a lie.

He says that he left her behind with his parents to ensure that no one would use her to pressure him, that the Flesh Collectors wouldn’t use her as bait to get to him. Though I understand the logic of this, I can’t help but feel a bit disappointed. It feels like he’s trying to be the man he was 5 years ago, but I know he’s gone through much in my absence and I wish he would just be honest with me about it. Does anyone have any advice for how to talk to him about this? In some ways, it does feel a bit as if I’m approaching him as a stranger once more.

Update: Thank you to all who replied with your advices and your recommendations. I do want to answer a few of the questions I saw most frequently:

1) Apparently, he tried to avenge my murder after the judge had been paid off, stealing a highly advanced prototypical weapon designed by a classmate of ours (27 NB) to do it. This is why the Flesh Collectors were after him and why he apparently joined a guild for thieves and assassins that, if I understood him right, was run by a staff member at the university? I don’t know; he seems more comfortable speaking Common than Lamordian, so I may be misunderstanding things.

2) Flesh Collectors are sort of like a police force, but more than anything they are scavengers who harvest body parts that scientists need for their work. The “ethical” ones wait until a body is dead to harvest. The majority of them are not ethical.

Now, onto the update: I had the open conversation with my husband that so many of you recommended. I just asked him to tell me what kinds of things had happened while I was dead, and he was honest with me, just as I always remember him being.

While he was on the run for his vengeance, he fell in with the guild I mentioned and did “less than honorable things” to put aside money for our daughter’s future. At first, I thought he was implying that he had sold intimate favors, but he clarified that it was killing people. He did put aside quite a bit, over 10,000 gp, so I do think it was well-meant. And our daughter seems to hold no resentment toward him, so I don’t suppose I should either. For anyone out there who has been resurrected after a while, is this distance I’m feeling just a symptom of that, or is it something I should be concerned about? Perhaps I should speak to my mother-in-law, as she has always been a source of wisdom in my life. I don’t think I will need to update further, but if more developments happen, I will be sure to let you all know.

if you're trying to get into the head of your story's antagonist, try writing an "Am I the Asshole" reddit post from their perspective, explaining their problems and their plans for solving them. Let the voice and logic come through.

[kiwriteswords]

Drabble request—trying to explain to Hotch posting him on Instagram/making it Instagram official!

The Hard Launch [Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader Drabble]

Masterlist || Ao3||Word Count: 600

TW: Age gap, social media use, non-BAU reader, Aaron Hotchner POV

Aaron Hotchner had never been one for social media. Not one bit.

To him, the value of a private life far exceeded the lure of likes and comments. 

However, as he sat across from you in the soft glow of your living room, he couldn’t help but notice the way your fingers danced with nervous energy over your phone screen. 

Penelope, who lived next door to you, had been the architect of your meeting. Her intuition had proved impeccable, as usual. Despite the age gap of twenty years between you and Hotch, the connection was undeniable. It was your youthfulness that breathed new life into his structured world, and in turn, he offered a grounding stability you cherished.

Although, in this moment, he felt from an entirely different generation.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Hotch's voice was laced with caution as he watched you meticulously select a photo from your gallery.

You nodded, biting your lip in concentration. "Yes, but it has to be perfect. This isn’t just any post, Aaron. It’s us...going public. Officially."

Hotch’s brow furrowed, the corners of his eyes crinkling in thought. "And this is important because…?" His tone wasn’t dismissive, merely inquisitive. He genuinely sought to understand this slice of your world.

You paused, the selected photo of the two of you from Dave's retirement party displayed on your screen—both of you caught mid-laughter, a snapshot of genuine happiness. "It's about crafting the narrative we want to share. This," you gestured to the photo, "tells a story of joy. Of us. It’s not just for my friends but for anyone who comes across it. I want them to see the happiness we share, not just the age difference."

Hotch took the phone from your hands, studying the image. He had always been protective of his private life, especially after the tragedy with Haley and the constant threats that came with his job. But looking at the photo, the happiness evident in his usually reserved expression, he felt a rare surge of pride.

"You make a compelling argument," Hotch admitted, handing back the phone. "So, how do you make it ‘perfect’ then?"

You smiled, a sparkle of excitement in your eyes. "It’s about the caption too. It sets the tone." You started typing, your thumbs moving swiftly. "'A new chapter begins with endless possibilities,'" you read aloud, then looked up at him for approval.

"Poetic," he commented dryly, but his small, affectionate smile betrayed his appreciation. "You really think this is necessary?"

"It’s like marking a milestone," you explained, your gaze softening. "It's telling the world that this is my choice, our choice, and we’re happy. It's setting boundaries too, declaring that what matters is the narrative we choose to share and nothing else."

Understanding dawned on him then. It was a declaration, a way to control the story before others had the chance to define it for you. In his line of work, control was everything, yet here he was, learning a different kind of control—over personal perceptions and societal narratives.

"Okay, post it," Hotch said finally, the protective instinct giving way to support for your happiness. You looked at him, a mixture of relief and love washing over you, before pressing the share button.

As you set your phone aside, Hotch reached for your hand, a silent acknowledgment of the new step you both were taking. "How long until the world knows?"

You chuckled, "Give it a few minutes. Penelope probably already has the notifications on."

True to your words, within minutes your phone buzzed with Penelope’s enthusiastic approval and a stream of comments that followed. Hotch couldn’t help but feel a sense of rightness about it all. Maybe, just maybe, this social media thing had its merits, especially if it meant the world would know how proud he was to have you by his side.

[clare-875]

Why Are You Crying? (Ace x Reader)

_____ Pairing: Ace x Female Reader Summary: Ace accidentally timeslips to the future, Post-Marinford. Warnings: SPOILERS for Marineford, grief, angst, comfort/fluff Notes: The above image does NOT belong to me. [One Piece Masterlist] _____

"What did you do this time Marco?"

Ace groans as he pulls himself to his feet, wiping the sand from himself. "Me? It was you who touched the damned thing-yoi! I told you to be careful!" Marco wretches free of the ground but as the two members of the Whitebeard crew look up, they find themselves in a place completely different to the one they were in just a minute ago.

They and their respective divisions had just been deep in terrestrial rainforests looking for supposed treasures but they now found themselves on a beach; a completely different Island. "How did we get here?" Ace mutters looking to the tropical island that surrounds him.

"It must've been that."

Marco points to the strange sphere object that emits weird waves of light, buried in the sand below them. "Do you think if we touch it again, it will take us back?" Marco asks the raven-haired man who frowns inquisitively at the mess they have found themselves in.

"Beats me."

"Well what are you waiting for, it's the only option we've got."

Ace sighs as he leans forward towards the spherical object with Marco, not looking forward to the twisting feeling he had felt earlier when the sphere had transported him. However, just as the two are about to touch the mystical object, a voice catches them off guard making them flinch away suddenly.

The voice was familiar, and Ace could recognise it from miles away. Instantly a smile widens on his face but when he looks up, he is met with shock.

"... Ace?"

.....

[Several Moments Earlier]

It was now one year after the Marineford incident, and you are in the midst of your training. Luffy had given the crew two years and you have used your time well. Kuma had transported you to a quaint, tropical Island where your mentor taught you skills and tactics you had never even thought of using before. You were strong already, but thanks to them you had grown stronger.

However, despite your progress, you had to admit that your training had faltered along with the shocking news that had travelled the world. You didn't know if you could believe the words in the newspaper in your hands that day, but maybe it was because the truth was too much to endure.

Portgas D. Ace, your love, dead.

Ace.

The grief from the loss was unbearable.

You had grown up with Ace alongside Luffy, but your relationship with the freckle-faced boy had grown into something far deeper than friendship. You had loved him; he had loved you. Despite joining the straw hat crew in the end, it didn't stop that connection.

Though you tried to hide your pain, his death impacted you far worse than others, and even your mentor could see your distracted mind while training, or your irises dark with sadness. His death weighed you down, it tore through your heart and wouldn't leave you in peace. You would find yourself shedding tears often and the clench your despair had around your heart just couldn't seem to loosen.

You weren't there. You weren't there for him.

You couldn't say goodbye.

That was what haunted you the most.

Everyday sleep would taunt you as your raging mind refused to let you rest. You only knew of what had happened days after you had been swept away by Kuma to your island. It was secluded and news rarely carried, but once it had, and once you saw the emboldened title on the paper in your hands, it felt like your world had been stripped from you.

Your Captain had been there, had scraped himself through hell it looked like, and had witnessed the death of his beloved brother. You could only imagine the agony he was in or the grief that had plagued his mind as it did to you now. He was the only one who could understand what it felt like, to lose him.

Ace.

As children, the two of you were almost inseparable and even as Sabo and Luffy joined your group, it did nothing but strengthen the bond between you. The adventures you went on, his unyielding kindness to you, the way he would protect you from harm's way, the way his little face would glow bright red whenever you got too close. The two of you didn't even know what the bubbling feeling inside of you was, but as long as you had the other close, it would never cease to go away.

As you grew older, your crush on the man had only grown. Then, a year before he had embarked on his journey, he had confessed to you. The both of you were young and with young love came the raging emotions of untamed attachment. That year had been bliss to you: training, laughing, holding hands, blushing and kissing. You adored his embrace on cooler nights and adored the way his grin would gleam under the persistent sun.

He was all you could ever need.

Even when you chose to join Luffy's crew, he respected your wishes and his love did not falter. As the three of you embarked on your journeys at different times, he never ceased to come to visit you or write to you letters of his adventures. He was utterly enamoured by you and thought about you each day you were apart and clung to you each day you were in his arms once more; much like you did. Your vivre card was one of his most prized possessions and one he held close to him at all times.

"I'll always find my way to you this way, love."

And his vivre card had been entrusted to your Captain; his brother. If only you had asked for another you could keep. Perhaps then you would've known of the threat to his life so much sooner. Maybe then, you could've done something. Now, you could only imagine what his death must've been like. Luffy had not made contact with you, you knew he probably hadn't made contact with any of the crew apart from the message left in a newspaper a few days after the one on Ace's death.

To meet two years rather than three days later at Sabody.

But despite knowing it was all made with good intention - so that he and the crew could get stronger in that time - you would do anything for a glimmer of an indication that he was okay. You would do anything to know what Ace's last words had been, if his death had been as brutal as the newspapers claim, if he had been happy in his last moments or scared. If he had forgiven you for your absence and understood, or if he held that against you till his dying breath.

Because you did.

You despised that you weren't there. You despise Admiral Akainu for what he has stripped from you. You despise the life you have to go on living without Ace and without your goodbye.

Because that was what you had to do.

Never again would his warm hands caress your skin. Never again would his words ignite in you such adoration you couldn't believe. Never again would his lips touch yours or would you share nights engulfed in the other's presence. All your dreams of a future with him, all his whispers that he would marry you someday, all his promises and your laughs of adoration as he pledged to you were torn to nothingness.

Your tears slip fast past your lashline and your teeth are gritted against each other. How many times had you cried for the man that you loved? You couldn't stop, you don't think you ever could. You felt so alone. God, you felt alone. You didn't even have the simple liberty of looking forward to the next time you see your beloved. Because the next time you do would be decades in the future when you lost your own life to time and age.

"Please..."

You muttered your hopes desperately to the sky, as though looking for any sort of sign that something was out there and that someone would return your beloved Ace to you.

"Please... let me see him one more time..."

"... let me at least say goodbye."

For a long moment, you simply look up to the sky, trying to keep your tears at bay. Silence is all you can hear, and you feel your heart wither at your reality. But then, you hear it.

A familiar voice in the distance, too good to be true.

.....

[Back to the present]

"...Ace?"

Your voice is breathless like the wind was what spoke and not you. 'Ace? It is Ace, right?' You pinch yourself harder than necessary to convince yourself it wasn't another dream. That he was tangible and there and real. But when you look at his warm smile, and delightful surprise at your presence you couldn't stop yourself. You run to him like your life depended on it. Your tears start slipping down your cheeks.

"Ace!"

Your voice breaks, but you don't care because you can feel the warmth he emits as you get closer. You can see the way his arms move wide and welcoming to you, and when you embrace him his scent and heat engulf you. Instantly, you press your ear to his chest and relish the thrumming sound emitting from within him. You relish the way his arms envelop you tight in his embrace, his rumbling laughter against you.

"Damn [y/n], I know it's been a while, but I didn't think you'd miss me that much."

Ace's words are light and teasing as you remember them, but you barely hear them too lost in your shock. Your form trembles under the weight of your tears and sobs suddenly tear through your body. You cling to him tightly, as though he would disappear if you let go for even a second. Your mind is ablaze with only one thought, over and over.

He's alive. He's alive. He's alive.

Ace can feel his lips downturn as your shaking worsens and your hold tightens further. Suddenly he realises that this reunion is nothing like your usual one. Though in his time, only a month had passed since your last meeting, for you, it had been since Alabasta. It was the longest the two of you had been apart even before his death.

Ace knew something was wrong.

"[y/n]?"

His words are shrouded in worry, and his hands anxiously caress your hair as though to soothe you. Surprisingly, it works a little as your sobs die down to gentle tremors when the familiar rhythm brings you back to the present. Ace meets Marco's eyes and he sees the same worry reflecting within them, along with utter confusion. Ace rarely sees you in a state of such despair.

"[y/n]," he mutters gently to you, trying to control the thrumming of his own heart as he looks at your state, worried that you had been harmed or stranded on the Island somehow. But then he thinks of his brother, Luffy, knowing that he would never allow such things to happen to you. But he needs the answers from your own lips.

"[y/n]... why are you crying? What's wrong?"

And that is when you finally look up.

It is Ace's turn to let shock shroud his features as he meets your gaze and you also feel a new surprise envelop you too.

His features were so much younger, and you remember when he looked that way. Still a teenager compared to the man you had last seen. His eyes were still enveloped in youth and nativity, his hair cut slightly shorter, his form less built without the battles he would soon have to face.

Ace looked at you the same way, and his hands trembled slightly as he caressed your hair which had grown far too much since the last time he had seen you. The way your face had become more defined as you grew despite your eyes still shining up at him as they always did. You seemed stronger, surer, and a few years older than the [y/n] he had seen just a month prior.

"[y/n]... why do you seem..."

"Older?" "Younger?"

The two of you speak your thoughts at the same time, your eyes meeting in silent shock and your heart plummeting in grim realisation. That this wasn't the Ace you last saw, Ace wasn't alive, this was a younger Ace who stood before you. But how can that be possible?

"Ace," you murmur, still allowing your gaze to linger on his face and the features you had grieved for the past year. "How long have you been on the Whitebeard crew?" You ask, knowing the answer before he even speaks. "Huh?" Ace looks down at you, shaking free of his own thoughts and answers easily. "It's only been a month? But what has that got to do with-"

"This is the future, Ace. Maybe two or three years?"

You can hear your words out of your mouth, but you can barely believe them yourself. Then your eyes go to the sphere buried in the sand and they widen. You recognised it immediately from Robin's books she used to share with you. It was a sphere that acted as a sort of key between time and space, but it would only exist for several minutes at a time.

Ace would have to return to his time very soon, and when he did, he wouldn't be able to return. 'I have to tell him-'

But when you look up, Ace's lips upturn into a wide and youthful grin. "The future?" Marco grins as well. "I guess we found what we were looking for then," he says as he nods at the sphere. "Didn't think that's what all our searching would get us though, a time-key that only exists for a few minutes? What a waste of time-yoi." They had after all been searching for what they hoped was gold, not an object that would disappear the instant they went back to their time.

"Not a total waste of time," suddenly a warm arm is wrapped around you as Ace pulls you gently into him. His smile shone brighter than the sun when you looked up at him. "Look at how hot my girlfriend is, some things don't change do they baby?" You have to fight not to roll your eyes and smile, but for a moment you forget your grief and are lost in his presence. How easily does he make your worries melt away? How easily can his smile make everything better in this world?

How could you ever let him go?

"Are you sure, you're okay love?" His words are softer, murmured in your ear just for you to hear and suddenly you're fighting your tears again. But you manage to keep them away.

'Do I tell him?'

'Do I?'

'I should tell him, right?'

You meet his kind gaze, his youthful charisma, and his love that is unchanging.

'But how could you tell this man how he dies?'

You swallow harshly, but you find yourself nodding your head in reply.

"Everything's perfect."

He glances at you hesitantly as though he contemplates your words for a moment. But then he decides to trust you. You look at his smile, wide and pushing at freckled cheeks. He seemed so full of life and what's more, he's embracing it. He's not doubting himself or his right to walk the Earth. You had heard the lighthearted banter shared between him and Marco, and you know the Whitebeard crew had granted him what he had been looking for all along: belonging.

You couldn't diminish that light.

It wasn't his time yet, you couldn't rid of his vitality so quickly by selfishly telling him his destiny. He had so much of the world yet to see. He had so much to explore, and so many more memories to make with the you that awaited him in his time. So many fights and treasures to behold. So many more moments to be spent with his bright smile and warmth.

You see the sphere flicker in the sand, a signal that it will soon diminish, and if it did your boyfriend and Marco would be trapped in this time. In a time where he should not exist. The two men also seem to notice, as you feel Ace's hands falter on your skin, and see Marco look up nervously. "We need to go," he picks up the sphere and walks over to you both, waiting for Ace to join him and hold it too.

They only had a minute.

Ace's smile falters only for a second, but he nods; after all, he had the past you waiting for him upon his return. Your smile is sadder than his, but you allow yourself to look up at the man you fell in love with one last time. One last time you felt what it was like to be under the hold of his warm touch. One last time you see the way his eyes flicker with his kindness and wonder and love. One last time you reach out and caress his dark locks, and witness him leaning into your touch.

One last time.

You step forward and he engulfs you in his arms. He murmurs gentle words in your ear. "Tell future me to hurry up, or I'll beat his ass. He must be keeping you waiting too long for you to be crying like this." A lone tear slips past your eye but you smile and laugh softly against his chest. His heat lingers on you as you break away. "I will." You analyse his features, willing yourself to memorise him so that you remember him for the rest of your life.

"Goodbye Ace, I love you... so much."

Ace grins and he presses his lips gently to the top of your head, his hand caressing your face before he pulls away.

"I love you too."

He moves as he reaches Marco's side, both hands enveloping the sphere alongside him. The sphere flickers one more time, and you see one of his hands rise in the air, the shout of his words lingering in the air.

"See you later!"

And just as quickly as he came, he was gone.

You stand still, looking to the spot in the sand as more tears break your lash line, but on your face is a full, bright smile. You can still feel his warmth that had just touched your skin, you can still see the way he smiled as he looked at you. But most of all, your wish had somehow been granted. A miracle you knew many others who had lost someone could only beg for.

One last moment with him: an actual goodbye.

"See you later," you whisper back to the wind, hoping he might be able to hear it across the time and space between you. There is a flicker of light cast on your skin from the sun, a shift in the breeze and a sudden warmth in the air. You look to the sky and imagine his smiling face, believing that he is watching over you.

[noodledragonsoop]

(Yes, I understand OP mentioned that they were aware of other opinions. I just want to go on a rant about this, it’s certainly not directed at OP. :))

Unpopular opinion here, but I don’t like an overwhelming amount of these words.

I see so many posts hating on ‘said,’ talking about avoiding it at all costs.

If a book didn’t have ‘said’ at all and was just these, I wouldn’t be able to finish it. I need something that makes it feel normal. If too much said bothers you, structure your writing in a way that allows you to use less dialogue tags! Get creative with it, challenge yourself.

If you’re just trying to add flavor, making the dialogue tag verb more descriptive, in my opinion, is the laziest way you can do that. Ruining immersion? You can’t be serious.

I don’t want to know how she growled a sentence.

I want to hear her teeth grinding in rage that masks the stab of betrayal she’s experienced. I want to see her turn away as her hands twitch and her heart thunders in her ears.

I don’t want to hear that he chuckled a response.

I want to see the way his eyes light up with joy as his shoulders ease into a more relaxed position. I want to see the worry lines on his forehead melt into a smile, and I want to hear the crackly undertone his laugh carries from barely ever using it.

I want to feel what they feel, that’s how I am immersed.

I fear ‘spicing it up’ with too many of these words is like adding bright balloons to a plain room. Like sure, it adds plenty of color, but wouldn’t you rather take the time to decorate the room itself than fill it with things that distract you from how plain it might be otherwise?

I think I’ll always prefer ‘said’ and a better description than a more descriptive verb. Of course, don’t avoid using them just because of it, but it’s so easy (again, in my opinion) to overuse them to an extreme.

100 Dialogue Tags You Can Use Instead of “Said”

For the writers struggling to rid themselves of the classic ‘said’. Some are repeated in different categories since they fit multiple ones (but those are counted once so it adds up to 100 new words). 

1. Neutral Tags 

Straightforward and unobtrusive dialogue tags: 

Added, Replied, Stated, Remarked, Responded, Observed, Acknowledged, Commented, Noted, Voiced, Expressed, Shared, Answered, Mentioned, Declared.

2. Questioning Tags 

Curious, interrogative dialogue tags:

Asked, Queried, Wondered, Probed, Inquired, Requested, Pondered, Demanded, Challenged, Interjected, Investigated, Countered, Snapped, Pleaded, Insisted.

3. Emotive Tags 

Emotional dialogue tags:

Exclaimed, Shouted, Sobbed, Whispered, Cried, Hissed, Gasped, Laughed, Screamed, Stammered, Wailed, Murmured, Snarled, Choked, Barked.

4. Descriptive Tags 

Insightful, tonal dialogue tags: 

Muttered, Mumbled, Yelled, Uttered, Roared, Bellowed, Drawled, Spoke, Shrieked, Boomed, Snapped, Groaned, Rasped, Purred, Croaked.

5. Action-Oriented Tags 

Movement-based dialogue tags: 

Announced, Admitted, Interrupted, Joked, Suggested, Offered, Explained, Repeated, Advised, Warned, Agreed, Confirmed, Ordered, Reassured, Stated.

6. Conflict Tags 

Argumentative, defiant dialogue tags:

Argued, Snapped, Retorted, Rebuked, Disputed, Objected, Contested, Barked, Protested, Countered, Growled, Scoffed, Sneered, Challenged, Huffed.

7. Agreement Tags 

Understanding, compliant dialogue tags: 

Agreed, Assented, Nodded, Confirmed, Replied, Conceded, Acknowledged, Accepted, Affirmed, Yielded, Supported, Echoed, Consented, Promised, Concurred.

8. Disagreement Tags 

Resistant, defiant dialogue tags: 

Denied, Disagreed, Refused, Argued, Contradicted, Insisted, Protested, Objected, Rejected, Declined, Countered, Challenged, Snubbed, Dismissed, Rebuked.

9. Confused Tags 

Hesitant, uncertain dialogue tags:

Stammered, Hesitated, Fumbled, Babbled, Mumbled, Faltered, Stumbled, Wondered, Pondered, Stuttered, Blurted, Doubted, Confessed, Vacillated.

10. Surprise Tags

Shock-inducing dialogue tags:

Gasped, Stunned, Exclaimed, Blurted, Wondered, Staggered, Marvelled, Breathed, Recoiled, Jumped, Yelped, Shrieked, Stammered.

Note: everyone is entitled to their own opinion. No I am NOT telling people to abandon said and use these. Yes I understand that said is often good enough, but sometimes you WANT to draw attention to how the character is speaking. If you think adding an action/movement to your dialogue is 'good enough' hate to break it to you but that ruins immersion much more than a casual 'mumbled'. And for the last time: this is just a resource list, CALM DOWN. Hope that covers all the annoyingly redundant replies :)

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[hivemuthur]

The Ugly Thing

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! smut, love confessions, D/S dynamics (if you squint or if you know what I'm talking about), pinning, dom!viktor (but also not, if you squint, something something), Viktor-centric, AU college/university + modern era (again, you have to do some squinting for it to be relevant)

word count: 4,9K

summary: Yet another self-indulgent one-shot of Viktor and Reader. It's just an exploration. I want to believe this is erotica, but you tell me. Subspace/Domspace if you squint. Just squint, alright?

Cross-posted on AO3

—

Viktor was, at the very least, difficult. That was what he had called himself, and he relished the label, as it allowed him to be all things at once—sweet, shy, bold, cruel, smart, oblivious, observant. He walked through life making observations and turning his conclusions into actions, placing people exactly where he needed them, ensuring they couldn’t place him somewhere he didn’t want to be.

His relationships were fleeting moments of leniency—sometimes even kindness—offered only when he felt inclined. Occasionally, the kindness transpired twice, or three times, but never more, as the risk of forming a one- or double-sided attachment was undesirable. Viktor’s desires lay elsewhere, and in his pursuits, he indulged the weakness of the flesh while keeping his ultimate goal—recognition of his brilliant mind—crystal clear.

Always polite, so that nothing could hurt him. His armour of politeness and astute behaviour shielded him from the lingering hands that sought to cradle him through the night, from the tender offerings of morning coffee, and from the quiet intimacy of shared silences. Viktor didn’t crave these things. He made sure his politeness was cold, detached, and practised—a skill perfected to keep others at bay. There was no warmth in it, no invitation to linger.

From time to time, he indulged in fleeting encounters, moments where he allowed himself to surrender to the pull of human connection—physical, but never emotional. Emotional, but not lasting. It was a necessary recharge, a way to quiet the body’s demands, but he was always one step ahead. He ensured his partners understood that whatever fragile universe they built together in the night would dissolve with the first light of morning, leaving no trace beyond the cooling embers of his skin.

All that was left was being polite—a polite smile in the hallway, a pencil lent during a lecture, an elevator held for his perishable lover rushing to class. Their names never forgotten, but their warmth never wanted again.

Until you. Until you invaded his orbit and refused to be erased. Until you befriended Jayce, making it easy to keep meeting him, keep looking at him, keep exchanging amusements and something more than politeness—exchanging kindness. Until it turned out you were smart and driven and managed to scare him once or twice by pinning him with your joke.

Until he had slept with you, giving you his mediocre self—not the calculated, observant one, but the needy, touch-starved, pathetic one that moaned your name and groped you with begging hands. All during a completely unorchestrated evening in your dorm room, still half-clothed, just lustful and impatient. Just really fucking hungry in your mutual understanding, though you understood absolutely nothing. Oblivious to the ugly thing in him. Oblivious to the concept of boundaries. Oblivious to the need to protect yourself from prying eyes that might see the truth of what they were.

And the way you stared at him afterwards, gave your body a long stretch, and your limbs flopped back onto the mattress. And the way you said, “It’s ok if you want to go,” an understanding smile cracking across your face—yet you understood absolutely, utterly nothing. A way out he craved, but he wanted to carve it out for himself with his politeness, not with this—this knowing, wise look in your eyes that came from nowhere, because you knew nothing. He almost wanted to stay, just to spite you, but found himself only nodding, scrambling to his feet to fetch his brace and cane, and bidding you goodnight with a polite nod.

And the way you remained friendly. Not friendly—the way you two remained friends. The long nights spent in study groups, pulling straws to determine who was doomed to coffee duty, your head slumped in sleep on Jayce’s shoulder, his head resting on Mel’s. Your bare, cold feet stretched out, toes brushing against Viktor’s thigh, sending ice through his veins—and the way he didn’t mind. The way he contemplated cradling your feet in his palm, warming them against his better judgement.

The way your touch lingered on his arm when you grabbed him in the corridor to show him something funny on your phone. And the way the thing on your phone actually was funny—a picture of Jayce passed out in the library under a mountain of plastic cups balanced on his shoulders. The way his own laugh startled him, made his chest shake and his face lean in close to yours.

The way you would fall asleep in the common room, watching old horror films, your throat vulnerably exposed on his lap. And he just wanted to grab it, squeeze it tight, choke the confession out of you—that you lingered because you wanted more, because this friendship was unthinkable.

The way you got upset when he was mean, and the way he went out of his way to apologise with a childish, shit-eating grin. His arms reaching out for you, your palm pressing his face away in that same friendly gesture.

When he flushed his system with alcohol, all he could think about was fucking you senseless. And when your gaze lingered on him, burning all the way down into his ugly thing, you would ask what was on his mind, and he would say, “Physics.” And you would laugh his lie out.

The way, once, he gave you a lingering kiss on your doorstep and stopped himself. But seeing the question poised on the tip of your tongue, he sunk back in, turning the kiss into a sloppy, drunken mess, so you would be the one to push him away. A gentle pat on the shoulder, sending him off with the unspoken instruction to come back sober. And how he never came back for that.

All of this made him so fucking angry. His carefully mended self, constructed from sweetness, shyness, boldness, cruelty, wisdom, and oblivion, was crumbling under your pensive eyes—and the way you floated atop the pissed-off ocean of his mind.

And oh, he loathed himself on that evening, loathed the way his feet carried him to your room because he was feeling vaguely sad and distracted. He loathed his feet for doing so, loathed his finger for pressing the elevator button, loathed his knuckles for placing a quiet knock on your door. It was all so gross, so out of character, and he loathed it all.

And there you were, opening the door, your face full of dinner, hair messy, cheeks puffed out as you curled them into a closed-mouth grin and gave him a wave to come inside. A quiet “hi,” followed by a chuckle as you tried to swallow before chewing—and a cough when the gulp was too massive for your throat.

“Are you busy?” Viktor found himself blurting out, scanning the room. Your flatmate was gone for the weekend—her bed made, her shoes and coat missing. Observed, concluded. His eyes flicked over to the other bed: messy but cozy, notes scattered across it, a steaming cup on the bedside table, and a laptop propped in the leg area playing background noise. Studying, of course.

“I am always busy,” you grinned at him, your teeth bare and beautiful like the rest of you, as you dropped your dishes into the sink and put the kettle on. “Watching Dexter and studying. Do you want tea?”

“Maybe,” Viktor mused, biting his lip. He negotiated silently with himself, wondering what it was he hoped to find in this room that might sweeten his sour mood—and why his mood was sour in the first place. His hand wobbled on his cane, the traitorous thing, and he leaned against the doorframe to deflect, refusing to decide whether to step fully in or out.

“Okay, what’s gotten into you today?” you huffed, picking a mug you deemed suitable for him. Good Vibes Only, with a middle finger printed on the bottom of it, seemed fitting.

“Meaning?” Viktor cocked an innocent eyebrow, feeling the burn of your inquisitive gaze. Oh, to yank that lovely head by the neck and shove it between his legs, to ease the torment in his mind.

“This is the third time you’ve bothered me today. It’s the weekend. You usually work on the weekends. You’re being vague but resistant to probing. Did something happen?” The countdown of his sins, and it was only the count of one day. Nothing had happened, and that was the issue.

“I suppose I’m feeling… down?” He shrugged, the movement worn down, defeated. His brain ached, and he felt lonely. It had started to feel indecent to pursue others—and for that, you deserved a whack as well.

“Do you need a hug?” A mocking snort reached his ears. A long pause as the scales tipped between a ‘no’ and a ‘yes.’

“Yes.”

Another long pause, as you blinked and scanned him for any signs of a sham, your expression still uncertain. You had to make sure again. “Do you need a hug now?”

“No, in fifteen fucking minutes.” His undignified huff earned him a pair of raised eyebrows from you, and a remark already rolling off your tongue—but he cut it short. “Yes, now. Come here.” His head hung low, and only his hand made a beckoning gesture.

You smiled, disarmed by the black cat of Viktor, finally trying to scramble into your lap after months of teasing and playing around—head bumping and blinking at each other from afar. You walked up to him, your hands hesitant, as if this open display of need was unthinkable.

Before you could settle, Viktor snaked himself around you, his cane propped by the door, his frame bent and draped over you, leaning his body weight forward. It was the grabbiest, the neediest hug he had ever given—or that anyone had let him have. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, smashing his nose against your skin, and inhaled you deeply, through both mouth and nose.

His palms, open and wide, raked as much of your body in one go as they could. They slipped under your clothes, seeking the taut skin stretched across your back and shoulders. He wanted to go lower but could only squeeze.

You weren’t hugging him; he was hugging you. Caging you in his grip, controlling when the hug would end—and as far as he was concerned, not ever. You stilled under his touch, your hands resting obediently on his chest as he rubbed his face on yours, purring like a cat.

“Viktor?” Your voice was barely a whisper, bouncing off his mouth, an inch away from yours. “Would you like me to kiss you?” He sang his swan song in that moment, almost asking permission, granting you the illusion of control, the illusion of choice—when in truth, it was him silently begging for the kiss to happen.

“Would you like to kiss me?” Of course. A deflection. Nothing he wasn’t prepared for.

“I asked you first.” A cruel blow, almost childish. He pulled his face back a few inches to watch you wrestle with the indignity of the situation. The whine you tried to suppress at the loss of contact didn’t go unnoticed, and the snake in Viktor’s belly coiled its head up, smug and poised.

But then you did the thing he didn’t expect—twisting the serpent’s head off and tossing it aside with quiet defiance. You moved closer, nudging his chin with your cheek, your wide eyes pleading for his plea. His resolve shattered instantly.

He held you in place, his lips hovering just above yours. His whisper was longing, desperate. “Can I kiss you?”

A silent ‘yes.’ He only knew it was a ‘yes’ because he felt the movement of your lips on his—but he didn’t let you finish. He sank into your mouth with a disturbing, possessive urgency, pressing his tongue inside, licking your beautiful teeth, biting your beautiful skin.

He kept you locked in, pressing you down under the weight of his kiss. His mouth drooled into yours obscenely as he breathed heavily through his nose. It was the ugliest kiss he had ever given anyone—the ugliest anyone had ever taken from him. And yet, it was taken with such grace, such gratitude, that he wanted to give you everything else.

With inhuman strength, he pulled you both apart and placed his thumb on your lower lip, still glistening with his saliva. He traced it lazily, transfixed by the shimmering reflections on your skin. His heart swelled as he observed the redness blooming around the spots he had bitten. He wanted you bruised by his love—for everyone to see.

“What are you doing tonight?” Another plea, another promise, fell between you. Viktor cursed himself for being so open, so exposed. Because even though you knew nothing, you would understand this question.

“Watching Dexter and studying,” you said in an absent voice, your eyes following his, following the path of his thumb. The silence stretched between you, taut, until you felt the need to fill it. “Do you want to watch Dexter and study with me?”

“No.” The word escaped him in a croak, sung low and jagged, as if he had only just realised this wasn’t what he wanted at all. “Are you wet?” was all he wanted to know.

“What?” The word escaped you, surprised, almost appalled. Viktor braced himself for you to pull away, so he tightened his grip—but you didn’t. You just stared at him with those beautiful eyes on your beautiful face, your pupils dilating at the vulgar perversion of his question.

“I think you heard me. Are you wet right now?” He leaned in to whisper the filth into your ear, feeling his snake grow out a new head at the full-body shudder that went through you.

“What if I said no?” you asked shyly, your eyelashes brushing against his cheek.

“I would demand proof,” he murmured, holding the sides of your face as he poured his poison straight into your ear, his voice so quiet and rude that your eyes fluttered closed.

“What if I said yes?” You found some bravery in yourself, tracing your fingers along Viktor’s neck, just under the line of his hair. You smiled at the feeling of goosebumps rising under your fingertips. He couldn’t have this, of course.

“I would demand proof regardless,” he responded, his lips grazing the shell of your ear before licking it, slow and deliberate. He craned his head back to look at you. You appeared frightened and excited all at once, and if Viktor had no restraint, he would have run his fingers through your hair to soothe you. Instead, he placed a flat palm on your stomach, fingers pointing down, waiting for your permission.

He received a timid nod, but it wasn’t enough.

“Use your words.”

“You can check.” You closed your eyes and exhaled, as though allowing yourself to be judged for your crime. And as the crime was that of lust, Viktor, somewhere deep down, knew he didn’t really need proof, and that your punishment would be light. Because he didn’t truly want to punish you. He wanted to love you in an ugly way.

He slid his hand down, down beyond the waistband of your pants, down your lower belly straight to your womb, palming your cunt through the underwear and gasped, “Oh lásko, look at you.” His chest fluttered at the first touch, with joy and accomplishment, but also because he was right, when he slid the fabric to the side and ran his finger through your slit. Warmth dripped onto his fingertips, and he felt himself grow hard beneath the restraint of his own clothes.

“Do you really like me this much?” he cooed, so pleased that just one ugly kiss had managed to drench your knickers and make you feel so ashamed you nearly flinched away.

“Viktor—” You looked at the floor, your brows furrowed, your face burning from being so exposed, so naked. And you looked so, so beautiful.

“I am not mocking you,” he murmured, placing a reassuring hand on your cheek and caressing it gently. It was almost a praise, though he dared not say it yet. “What makes you want a cripple so much? Is it your heart that longs for me, your mind that thinks you can change me, or just your body?” he mused, revealing too much merely by asking.

You looked almost offended by how blunt he was about knowing what you wanted, just not knowing why. His fingers now parting you, playing at your entrance, teased you but you wouldn’t flinch. You just searched his face hesitantly and as Viktor grew tired of waiting, he pushed two fingers inside you, curling them, mercilessly bumping your wall, forcing you to flinch. He really wanted to see your eyes roll back into your skull, and he really wanted to hear his name distorted by a breathy moan.

“Which… would be the worst?” Your breath fanned his face as you steadied yourself on his shoulders. Truly, you weren’t ready for any of the options to be soured.

Viktor thought for a moment, his fingers slowly retreating, almost absent-mindedly. When his answer was found, he pushed back in, smiling innocently, his face moving close to yours. “The first. The second,” he mused, another slow, unbearably so, thrust. “I could fuck out of you. The third, well…” A gentle kiss on your lips, almost loving. “I see no fault in the third.”

“Of course, you don’t,” you scoffed, your grip on his shoulders tightening with each minute. “And what bring you back to me over, and ah,” a gasp escaped your mouth when Viktor brushed his thumb over your clit. You closed your eyes and evened your breath. “Back to me. Heart, mind or… body?” you asked, your brow furrowed in concentration against Viktor’s efforts to throw you off course.

“Which would be the worst?” He quirked his lips against yours and chuckled at another concentrated huff. He could feel your unrelenting grip on his shoulders, was convinced that it would leave a mark, and it made his cock twitch in his pants. To be marked by this gentle creature, a dream.

“Any of them, without the others,” you quipped, your eyes shut. Viktor’s movements stilled at that. You had managed to surprise him. Again. Of course, you would want to devour him as much as he wanted to devour you. Eat you whole, spit out the bones and build a shrine out of them. Ugly.

He retreated his hand and chuckled at the muffled whine that followed. He licked his fingers clean once your eyelids fluttered open, making sure you were watching. Rude. But he was going to kiss you with this mouth.

His hands snaked back up your spine, your body pliant against his, providing him with warmth. His teeth and lips got back to work on the swell of yours, and you fell right into it, mouth open, when his tongue pushed itself down your throat as Viktor began his meal. “I will die if I don’t fuck you,” he rasped. So fucking dramatic over nothing, over just a kiss and some unfinished fingering, and a clipped conversation about what he wanted.

He could abandon it here. He could walk out; he could sit on your bed and just study and watch Dexter. He could drink his tea, already cold, he could make you blush all evening, bid you goodbye and go back to his grimy room to jerk off and fuck off. But he couldn’t stop.

“Please, I’ll be so good to you,” he prayed to you, your hands so warm on his waist as he kissed you till he was out of breath. “You don’t know what you are doing to me.” Pathetic, moronic wail escaped him. And he knew you only grew wetter and wetter, your lips getting hotter on him. Panting, you pulled him by the belt and walked the two of you over to the bed, leaving Viktor with no other support than yourself.

He had never rid himself of his clothes so fast. Everything he had on, tossed and crumpled by the bed, next to your own little pile. All the layers of the second, the third skin abandoned, his brace, his pants, his boxers, embarrassingly soaked with sweat and precum, when he crawled on top of you just to keep kissing you and biting your neck, leaving nasty marks everywhere. He panted, his own breath betraying him as your skin came in contact and Viktor whined simply at his cock rubbing against your thigh and he wanted more.

“If you want to stop, tell me.” Another raspy, absolutely dishonest, but a proper plea, asking for the complete opposite. Please, never ask me to stop. “Do you understand?” You nodded, again—not good enough. Your eyes so wide, he could barely see the colour. When you were splayed flat below him, he could see your heart twitching, your chest contracting. A minuscule movement, but he could see it.

“Words, I need to hear your words, lásko,” he growled, stunned by his own impatience.

“I understand.” A kindness in your voice enveloped him. He slid you down the mattress by the ankles, his cock rested against your slit. With clumsy hands he put on a condom, stole a pillow from under your head to support his bum leg and adjusted his crooked crouch. You had the audacity to chuckle at the commonality of his movements and he bit your calf in response.

Absolutely unhinged, you hooked your foot behind his neck, and he immediately loved the weight that pulled him down, steadied him, as he teased your entrance. You held a breath; he had forsaken the privilege of air long time ago.

The first thrust was just blissful. He could feel the crease on his forehead relaxing, his mouth opening, his jaw hanging heavily, just joy and warmth, him awash in it. He felt so full, so complete, yet it was you who was full of him as your bodies slotted together easily, differently to the last time, which left him feeling awkward and ashamed and unfinished.

You rested your hands on his hips, gripping the sharp angle of his bones, your fingernails leaving crescent marks that he would run his fingers over in the morning. “You are doing so well,” he whispered in awe, and it was honest, and you loved it, he felt it in his cock getting squeezed in a silent gratitude.

He felt his ugliness leaving him with each pump of his hips, each sloppy sound of your bodies bumping against each other, his cock twitching inside you, and he needed one more thing to make this even less ugly.

He brushed his thumb over your clit, stretching it, teasing you and taking in all your huffs and puffs, your contorting stomach muscles, your tightening walls. A longing look and an echoing question followed. “Do you love me?”

“Viktor, don’t be cruel,” you answered so fast, he almost retreated. How could you think so? A childlike curiosity creeped onto his face.

“I am not. I really ought to know. Just say yes or no,” Please, just say yes. He felt you twitch at the question, and it made him think he was right. But he could have also been completely deranged. Brain burnt by lust and all the ugly things.

“Viktor—” you pleaded at the loss of his thumb on you.

“I can feel you. Yes or no?” A hard thrust, right up your guts. You yelped, and he could see the tears forming in the corners of your eyes, and the sight was something to behold, keep in the palace of his mind forever.

“Then, why are you asking?” You were ready for filth. For his erotic weirdness, for his awkwardness, for all the want he would suppress every time you interacted. You felt it all in his fleeting touch, in the warmth of his thigh when your naked toes rested against it idly, unintentionally, though very intentionally. But this was how you coax a cat. And this was not how cats responded.

“You will see,” he promised, more to himself. “Do you love me, now, in this moment, when I’m fucking you? Yes or no?” Another twitch of your cunt at ‘love’. He left himself unguarded, shielded only by the mould of your womb.

“Yes.” A tiny, shy ‘yes’. But it fell right into Viktor’s heart and there it grew into a big promise, and he would keep it and take care of it and cherish it.

His body bent in half, his mouth seeking yours. A sloppy kiss, painful, with teeth at your tender lip. Another, earnest, slow and careful. Another, quick and fleeting, before he found your ear. Between them, “I love you,” whispered back like a secret, like a prize for your struggle.

Your breaths grew frantic, you wanted to keep him close. You tangled your fingers into his hair, tugging him in, so you could lick the sweat from his neck, bite it and claim it. Your leg slipped onto his hip, and you curled it around him, his bone digging into your thigh.

“Do you see? How it feels?” he rasped into your ear, gripping you tight. “To be loved while being fucked? Tell me how it feels.” Viktor moaned with each of his thrusts, holding back getting harder and harder. His cock getting more swollen. Your walls getting tighter.

“Amazing,” you whispered, pulling his mouth back to yours. “I love you.”

Viktor’s eyes rolled back into his skull. He slumped onto you, his hands snaking behind your waist, and he could feel your sweat merging with his as your chests pressed together. “I love you,” he cooed weakly. “You can come now, lásko.”

He felt your thighs clutch on his hips, a long spasm twisting your spine underneath him. You came with an orgasm wrenching breath out of your lungs, leg bending, blinding. The ‘I love you’ falling from your lips over and over again, and Viktor could finally let go and spill all his ugliness out. He came with a loud moan seconds after, his brain fucked out, his heart swollen, as he came loved for what he was.

He held you tight through it, chests heaving, when he felt a quiver and wetness on his cheek. “Are you hurt?” he whispered.

You sobbed onto his chest, hands caged in his arms as you tried to release them and wipe the tears away. “No, no,” you shook your head. “What is this… feeling?” It had no name. For Viktor, it was a dumbing bliss. He could cry too if he wasn’t so warm.

“How do you feel?” He wanted to know what it was like on the other side. No one ever told him, no one ever shared this with him.

“Hollow. Ah… fuck. Empty,” you struggled to find the words, trying them out on your tongue, but they felt wrong. “I feel like you took something… bad from me. And now I don’t know what to do with the space left—” you gasped between sobs as Viktor rolled you to the side and pulled your hair to expose your neck.

You buried your face in the curve of his shoulder. Tears fell on their own, and Viktor wanted to drink them and cry them out himself. When the sobs transformed into clipped breaths, and clipped breaths transformed into one long exhale, you asked carefully, “Viktor, you don’t really love me, do you?”

“Well, do you really love me?” His chest was swollen, his head heavy. He was triumphant. He was so invincible he had it in him to love you.

Silence, for a while. Viktor nudged you gently with his chin and whispered a soft command, “Go to the bathroom, I’ll be here.”

You looked at him, the practicality of it spreading a strange warmth in your belly. Wordlessly, you got up and disappeared, still naked as day, and Viktor watched your feet shuffle in the creak of the bathroom door. He got up, put on his underwear, and drank his cold tea in one go.

When you got out, a relief glimpsed through your face, as if you were expecting him to be gone. He waited for you with a cup of tea and a clean sweatshirt, beckoning you to slide into it. Once you both had a singular piece of clothing on, he pulled you back into bed and cuddled sweetly into you. “How do you feel now?” he asked, running his fingers through your hair.

“I feel… like I really need you to love me right now,” you let it slide out. Even though your sweatshirt shielded you from the chill of the room, your soul was still completely bare and shivering. And Viktor loved this nudity, the weirdness of it, the feeling of belonging it gave him.

He found that is was his hands that were lingering now, that the tender thought of the morning coffee was no longer distorted by fear, the quiet and the silence became comfortable in a good way. He felt so wanted, so beautiful in your eyes. He felt all the right things and none of the wrong things. His ugly snake was skinned and turned into a beautiful object. In this beautiful space only beautiful words seemed fitting. “I really do love you right now.”

[genderqueerdykes]

is it bad that i hate when people take my posts about trans issues and make trans women the center of them. my posts always say “trans people” when i talk generally about the violence and transphobia because i mean that. all trans people, not only one kind. but every time the comments turn it into a discussion revolving around trans women.

i’m not against talking about specific demographics! but it’s very frustrating when people take trans men and non-binary people out of the picture when i intentionally included them by NOT specifying a specific gender of trans people.

it’s honestly very disappointing and disheartening that trans men aren’t included in any type of discussion when it comes to trans issues. at least not that i see, i don’t know.

additionally, when (mainly perisex cis)people claim their supposed allyship to trans people, they only talk about how they include trans women in their feminism and women’s spaces. no mention of trans men. and when we ARE talked about, it’s “i hate trans men because they’re just like cis men :)” or “no i don’t want trans men in WOMENS spaces because they’re men”.

i don’t know… maybe i’m too sensitive, but it’s something i don’t like. we should definitely bring awareness to trans women’s issues but not completely forget about the existence of trans men.

i think it's okay to feel that way. i don't care for when people do that to me, either. this discussion is long overdue and so few people want to have it, but this is an issue. yes, trans women are allowed to talk about our issues, we are. i'm not saying we should never speak. what i'm saying is we can't take posts that are made for everyone and make them about us and us alone.

we need to stop making conversations about transmasculine people about us. not all nonbinary people are transfeminine, other intersex, multigender, nonbinary, genderqueer, gendervast, gnc, etc people need a chance to speak. like i'm serious, it's okay to talk about one's own experience. but if it is explicitly to point out why people should not listen to other people when they are talking about their own issues, and that they should listen to you instead, you are controlling the narratives, and shifting the goalposts.

it's one thing to say "here's what i experience" but if someone takes your post and goes. hey actually. trans women have it the worst. they're the one leaving other people out of the picture in that situation. whenever you try to point this out on this website, people foam at the mouth to try to kill you and it's ridiculous. when, well, with so many people bringing it up:

it's an issue.

there's been a specific group of people who identify as transradfems and people who identify with their politics even if they don't know the name for it. they are pushing people to be quiet and not speak about their own experiences because somehow that silences trans women, as if we can only be about one type of queer person at once. it's gotten old. like can we seriously just have this conversation already and be done with?

i feel like i have to say the thing that most people are afraid of, because this conversation is way overdue.

can disenfranchised dysphoric trans women stop attacking men & mascs because you don't like being seen as one? can disenfranchised trans women who have been hurt by men stop attacking men who haven't hurt you?

enough. men & mascs are not your personal punching bag. manhood isn't what hurt you. being forced to be a man or masc is what hurt you. the general concept of manhood and men did not hurt you. let go. i understand it's painful to get misgendered and treated as a man for life. it sucks. you don't deserve that. no trans woman does. nobody deserves to be misgendered. you don't deserve to be dehumanized because people refuse to see you for who you are. it's okay to acknowledge that you're in pain. but you gotta let the fuck go of your irrational hatred, because it will never help you accept or love yourself

you will never experience true trans joy if you spend all of your time hating on other people. hate solves nothing. if that's the only thing you see, that's the only thing you feel. if hate has nowhere else to go, it rapidly turns inward. you will not be seen as a woman by more people if you attack men. you will not be accepted by cis radfems if you attack men and parrot their politics. this isn't helping you, or anyone else.

we need to break down these walls and talk to each other. trans women and trans men can have conversations about our experiences at the exact same time. conversations involve multiple points of input. if we're only allowing one type of person to speak and one type of person to speak only: that is a lecture. that is not a discussion. if you never listen or give other people a chance to speak, you are lecturing them.

[yaseraphine]

pick a card 4 - your 2025 main lesson and themes.

KO-FI / MASTERLIST.

my last post : 2024, the year I lost my crown.

PILE 1

5 of cups, Page of Wands, 5 of Wands

“There are no traffic jams along the extra mile”

Main themes : Fun - Party - Getting ready - GRWM - Glow up - 5th house - Life path 5 - 2nd house - Venus and Sun - Leo energy - Taurus energy - Dating - Love - Silly crushes - Compliments - Bittersweet - Sinning - Karma - Situationship - “Toxic” relationship - Forced changes - Tower moment

As soon as I started your pile, Woman by Doja Cat started playing. This year, you will enter in your empress era. It will be soft and venusian but there is also a little edge to it, a really fiery spirit that I can feel for you . 

There is also a really sensual and luxurious energy.

I see first and foremost two fives in your spread out of the three tarot cards that fell for you : 5 will be a significant number for you this year. Maybe you’re a life path five, maybe your personal life path number this year is 5 or maybe you’re completing OR starting something this year that took 5 years to finish/ will take 5 years to finish. I am mostly picking up on the fact that this year will have patterns of a life path number 5. In numerology, a personal number year 5 is all about new adventures, discovery, being social, curious, adaptable, flexible, fearless and fun-loving. This is what your year will be all about : fun and lightheartedness. However, the number 5 is also a signifier for change... Be prepared for a busy year !

This energy feels a lot like the 5th house in astrology. You will spend your year hanging out with friends, flirting, laughing, going out and dressing up. Major Venus and Sun energy. Leo and Taurus energy. I am seeing bubble baths, extended grooming routines, new hairstyles, looking good, smelling good, gossiping,.... It is a really luxurious, sensual, lighthearted, fun and ego driven year that you will have. 

I am seeing trips to islands, vacation photos posted on social media, maybe you will start creating influencer type content this year just for the funsies. Bikini picks/flexing in front of the gym’s mirror in your insta story kinda vibe. 

You will keep up with the good habits you got in 2024 and reap the benefits of the consistency you had towards attaining your ideal self-concept (looks, mentality,..)

You will appear extremely sexually and sensually attractive and will probably attract many suitors, which will obviously flatter your ego greatly. 

 However, all this romantic/sexual attention might lead to a lot of drama and hurt feelings so be careful. People will probably only approach you because you're hot. It will not bother you in the moment (because some of you will lowkey be in your player era lmaoo i mean go ahead i am not judging lol) but it will eventually take a toll on you. I am saying this because I keep on seeing Doja Cat in the Vegas music video. You will be as stunning as she is in the video (her look was peak in this) but your attractiveness could lead you to your downfall this year... It seems that you could try to take advantage as much as you can of the new found pretty privilege you just gained from your glow up in 2024.

You will play around with your suitors, just lighthearted love energy until that one specific person that will bring a ton of drama. This suitor will end up being a major relationship/situationship/talking stage you have this year and they will be exactly like the guy Doja Cat describes in the song : 

“You ain't nothing but a-

Dog, player, ah get it

Fraud, player, ah get it

I understand, I understand

You ain't the man, you ain't a man (you ain't nothing but a-)

Hound dog, hound dog, hound dog

You ain't nothing but a-

Player gettin' valeted around in that ho whip

Two fingers up, one down when my toes ten

Flewed out with my boobs out, put a cork in it

Love it when you be cryin' out when I'm corseted

I don't think he gon' make it, do not let me start ragin'

****, I'm losin' my patience, this ain't stayin' in Vegas

(You ain't nothin' but a)

There's more sides to the story, I'ma tell everybody

Had your ass sittin' courtside with your arm around me

Had your ass sittin' first class with your burnt ass out in Abu Dhabi

Coulda been what we shoulda been

But you lost a bet, now you gotta find me

Find a seat

I ain't playin', that's hide and seek

High school when you finally peaked

Hound dog, couldn't find a treat

I'm a bad bitch, but”

This "bad relationship" will completely stop you from the high you got from your suitors and your fun filled lifestyle. You will feel betrayed and feel so stupid for trusting them.

This year, I think you will learn a major lesson about superficiality and how your looks and external validation is not what builds real confidence. 

You will start the year with a burning fire and desire to get everything you want, maybe for some to do some shady shit. For most of you, it won’t go to extremes EXTREMES but a minority of you could do stuff like taking someone’s partner, playing around, generally indulging in really “devilish” (as in The Devil in tarot) activities. Most of you though might just “stick” to less problematic activities. You might indulge in addictive behaviors like gambling, drinking, smoking all that shit you find in Vegas. Partying, Raving, just having fun and being a little careless.

I am hearing “Everything that happens in Vegas stays in Vegas”. You might surround yourself with people who do pretty shady shit (not too bad like most of you won’t end up in jail) and who have morally grey ways of thinking. You will eventually adopt this mentality/ of some of those low vibrational beliefs, but it will be for a pretty short amount of time. You might join them because you want to enter this “good girl/boy/enby gone bad” era in your life. You are probably sick of people pleasing, being tamed, being a doormat, and being played because you’re “too nice”. The problem here, and the lesson too, is that you don’t have to lose all your morals and become mean and bitter just because people did the same to you. 

“healed people hear differently”

What you will do the first half of the year, if you do not do it for the entire year, will catch up to you later on and you will be humbled quickly. Have fun until you get hit by this lesson that will come unexpectedly like a Tower moment. 

This sounds scary, I know, but you might be young or just bitter because you were always picked last your entire life and now you're finally the hottest in your vicinity so I totally understand the anger and resentment you might feel. It’s okay, it will be overall a bittersweet year for you. You will have loads of fun but will suffer the consequences of some of your actions eventually.

One quote for you : “Quiet the mind and the soul will speak.”

You are called to detach a bit from everything that is physical and factual this year. You might embody Taurusian, Virgo, Capricorn, Aries and Leo energy at the beginning of the year and will slowly follow your intuition more. The North node going in Pisces this year in January will probably impact you quite a bit. It’s the body VS the mind VS the soul. You will gradually be pushed to each part of yourself to connect them together healthily, and not overtly rely on only one.

ORACLE CARDS 

Change - I understand that nothing can grow or evolve without movement

Again, this card makes a lot of sense. A life path year number 5 is a signifier of fun and socialization but also of change. Falling into those bad habits/behaviors/mentality will be a catalyst for a change that didn’t occur last year. This change is much needed for you to develop a deep sense of self and a solid self-concept, not one that is solely based on physical attractiveness or external validation.

2. 28 - Energy / Orange (Virgo energy) : "Adventure and rapid progress are indicated, and it is specifically anchored to your true purpose and the direction you are currently taking. Oranges indicate that anything is possible, although you need to get that willpower working hard. There will be challenges but you can overcome them, and someone around you may need extra support at this time. Be wary of apathy, of losing interest too soon before giving something a chance, and of negativity”. 

“A garden requires patient labor and attention. Plants do not grow merely to satisfy ambitions or to fulfill good intentions. They thrive because someone expended effort on them” - Liberty Hyde Bailey

This year will be just like I said : bittersweet. You will have amazing moments and then lower moods where you will feel sad or betrayed. Huge theme around relationships and interpersonal relationships. Last year you focused a lot on yourself. This year, you will lose yourself in your interpersonal connections as a lesson to strengthen your self-concept. Your dedication towards creating your dream life will be tested.

Pile 2.

“Progress is still progress no matter how slow it is”

“It is never too late to be who you might have been”

Main themes : Healing - Therapy - Transformation - Friendship - Soulmate relationship - Twin flame connection - Anxiety relief - Emotional intimacy - Virgo and Pisces energies are prominent - 12th house - Acceptance - Surrendering - Salvation - Love - Spiritual love - Spiritual growth and awakening - Help - Forgiveness

I think right now you might be frustrated at yourself. You are probably prone to pretty extreme overthinking and you feel like you wasted time thinking and planning or fantasizing about doing things instead of just doing them last year. You feel like time is running out and you might be starting this year with a lot of pessimistic thoughts. It is totally normal that you feel disappointed in yourself, it shows that you care about building a life that you desire. But, you struggle with assertiveness towards what you want. You might have an idea but you always find a way of seeing how it might not work while planning for it. You tend to give up pretty easily because you want everything to be perfect. You have this mentality where everything needs to be perfect before you can share it. Here is an example : "I need to practice more before sharing my covers online I can't post it like that it's not that good". The thing is, you don't need to be perfect in something to share it or put yourself out there. You have enough talent and potential and you will learn and refine your art while you are out there in front of the public. The feedback could be really beneficial for you.

There is only you and you're fear of failure that is holding you back. Have the audacity of a straight man for a second and you will see how many blessings will fall into your lap. (sorry if you're a straight man lmaoo love y'all slayy queen). You're already that bitch, you're just the only one not seeing it.

This year, you will learn a major lesson regarding forgiveness towards yourself. You will be met with similar situations as last year, however this time you will try different approaches to avoid making the same mistakes, and you will do so without insulting yourself. You will break a pretty prominent cycle that you may have been stuck in for a few years now where you are really harsh on yourself for trying and failing. This negative self-talk that is tied to worrying and overthinking is what held you back from taking proper actions towards your goals/dreams/dream life all those years. This year, you will start being more gentle towards yourself and this will benefit you a lot. 

“Actually, I am happier than ever”

12th house - Pisces energy / Virgo-Pisces axis

There is an interesting connection with pile 1 regarding pisces and virgo energy. I feel like the North node going to Pisces this 11th of January will push the collective to surrender more, be more compassionate towards themselves and others and accept that we cannot control everything. There is this sense that this year, you will finally find a way towards inner peace. It doesn’t mean that you’ll stop overthinking forever and altogether, it is simply impossible. You will just learn how to manage that overthinking, find healthy coping mechanisms that help you get you out of your head. You will accept that sometimes things happen in divine timing and that you cannot control every outcome. Any perfectionistic tendencies that you had and that often led to overthinking will be toned down this year. 

I don’t think however that this epiphany will start at the beginning of the year. You will dismantle these ingrained bad habits throughout the year, step by step, as you will face similar lessons as last year but this time you will pass every test. Just be patient with yourself and everything will flow as they should.

The Fool, 2 of Cups, King of Cups + Ace of Wands

This year is obviously a year of starting over. You will be pushed to stop taking everything so seriously and just trust your gut instinct and the universe. You might naturally embody virgo and libra/venusian qualities which make you overly critical and passive. This year, the lesson is to embody these signs’ opposites’ qualities : Pisces and Aries energy. Trust the universe and blindly and confidently walk towards the unknown. Trust yourself, you’ve got this ! 

Honestly, reading this pile is pretty fascinating because your energy is exactly in tune with this year’s astrological transits. This year, many outer planets will change signs to aries or pisces. Both signs are significant as one shows the beginning of a cycle (Aries) and the other the end of a cycle (Pisces). This is exactly this. This year for you will be a year of transition towards a new beginning.

I see in the cards that, even though you might start the journey alone, you will eventually meet a soulmate along the way as you fear-less-ly work towards this cycle's end. I am seeing that this soulmate will not be a romantic soulmate for most of you. This will most likely be a friend or a mentor that you will unexpectedly meet towards the fall time I believe . September and especially October might be a significant time for your guy’s meeting and friendship beginning. They will most likely be opposite to you in many ways (ex : you are a virgo sun, they are a pisces sun, or you are a libra sun and they are an aries sun,..). Your friendship with this person will surprise you as your current friends and/or your past friends are/were probably completely different then this person. This relationship will be a breath of fresh air for you. 

ORACLE CARDS

Self-esteem - I possess gifts of the soul that benefit me and others

Indecision - I use my intuition in all aspects of life

Trust yourself, believe in yourself. Try to listen to your intuition, find exercises to reconnect with your intuition and to learn to go with the flow.

A life changing sentence that one of my friends with an anxiety disorder told me is that “ You cannot reassure someone who is anxious”. This might resonate for some of you who struggle with anxiety. There is no way for you to get rid of this anxiety permanently but you can learn how to manage it through daily practices and exercises. This year might be the year you find a daily practice/method to help you cope healthily with your anxiety.

12 - Affection / Sorrel ( Taurus energy) : "New experiences are coming your way, which means you will feel prompted to find new ways of doing things. If you are seeking a solution, be more receptive to suggestions and openings. Ensure you are putting your true feelings into all that you are doing. A valuable proposition should come your way, but don’t get too carried away."

This is exactly what I was talking about above : you will find new healthy ways of coping with your toxic habits. This will be done through trials and errors, you will have to be resilient and willing to try again even after failing to have this new habit. But don’t worry, you can or will be able to count on the help of people, or someone around you. Just don't be afraid to ask for help, express your issues, don’t be afraid to seek help and you will be granted a helping hand that has good intentions towards you.

Pile 3.

“Normality is a paved road”

Main themes : 8th house - 10th house - Saturn - Pluto - Reputation - Money - Power - Fame - Hunger - Determination - Life path 22 - Life path 8 - Influence - Lana Del Rey , “Season of the Witch" -  Dark Femininity/Masculinity - Lilith - Reconcialiation - Soulmate reconnection - Quiet confidence

Before I even started your pile, while choosing your picture I felt called to pick one that was quite different from the other two piles. Your energy feels very different and contrasts with the rest of the reading. There is a lethal confidence about you. I have a question first though : did you pick the pile 3 in my what do people like about you reading? I don’t know why this pile’s energy keep on coming back in the 3rd pile in every single one of my readings lol

Anyways, so for this year I think you’re starting it with a clear idea in mind : you have a plan, a vision board already made. This year, you are fearlessly going towards your goals. I am seeing cheetah and leopard prints,  luxury hotels, bubbling champagne, Chanel perfume.. Most of you who chose this pile are looking to create your dream life where you’re independent. This year, “you will get that bag while also securing your own bag” I am hearing. I don't know if you watch TheWizardLiz or Manifestelle but your energy reminds me of them. Even if you're not a girl, it’s obvious that you’re entering a phase in your life where you’re self focused and tunnel visioned. You have a goal of creating your own empire and you are willing to put in the work and make the sacrifices needed for it.

This year , you are locking in. Period.

Knight of Pentacles, 4 of Swords, The World, King of Wands

“I believe that each soul has a plan - a pathway and direction - that it has come here to experience in this lifetime”

Julie Kay

This year, you will work diligently towards your goal. You might neglect your relationships a bit so be careful. Despite the fact that your spirit guides are proud of you for being so passionate and dedicated towards your dreams they still want to tell you that some of this passion needs to be poured to the people around you that supports you now and that always supported you, even at your lowest. For some of you, it’s a family member like a mother or a father, could an aunt or an uncle for others could be a sister, a brother or a grandparent for another group. 

Your assertiveness and discipline is great but do not let your heart harden too much in the process. I am seeing that during summer, especially June and August, around the Lion’s Gate portal (8th of August), you will have mini “burnouts” because of the dedication you showed the first 6 months of the year. During that time, you will reconnect with a specific someone, a person from your past that you lost contact with. I feel like this might have been a “right person, wrong time” kind of situation. It could be a friendship, but for a lot of you this will unexpectedly develop into a romantic connection. I see a slow burn for you guys. Late night car drives while blasting your favorite songs. Dates on the beach at night time/or while the sun is setting. There is this really soft and romantic energy between you guys (omg I am so happy for you guys what!!). I find this so interesting that the quote that fell for you here is extracted from a book about love and soulmates. I haven’t read it yet but I am giving you the title if you want to read it. This might be relevant or eye opening for some of you : Soul Lessons to Soul Mate: Relationship Revolution by Julie Kay.

This person might be your life partner for some of you!!! I am so hyped congrats!! I am literally so excited for you guys lets goo

ORACLE CARDS

Health - I will honor the physical vessel that enshrines my soul

Be careful not to push yourself too hard this year. You might neglect your health, nutrition or physical cues this year and this could be detrimental for you. Make sure to drink enough water and eat plenty of vegetables and fruits. Don’t drink too much coffee or avoid relying on artificial stuff, like certain medicine or supplements to replace your lack of sleep or nutrients. Stay healthy, be happy <3 

So many oracle cards of my Green Witch Oracle wanted to fall for you. I had to reshuffle so many times and still got 2 oracles cards instead of one. and, guess what ? They literally follow each other in the deck : You got the 34th and the 35th cards. again, soulmate/mirroring/twin flame energy. Pretty fascinating to say the least. What a duo you will make with this person !

34 - Attraction / Pansy (Libra energy) : "Pansies indicate that people are being pulled into your life who align well with you. Romance may be on the agenda, but this energy also helps build community and friendship circles, possibly where learning takes place. It is time to step back a little and relax into what is happening naturally. Hesitation and over-thinking could cause blockages, and watch out for personal deception and gossip."

35 - Focus / Stock (Sagittarius energy) : "Stocks offer confidence, calmness and a central place to rest amid turmoil and change. It is time to focus, to think more deeply and slow down. Your personal truth needs some attention, so don’t get lost in your present dealings. Stocks also indicate and lead you to a balanced place in emotional swings. Be careful of losing yourself amid the behaviors of others."

No much explanation needed. Your main lesson this year is to be able to find a work-life balance. You will be pushed to slow down in your grind multiple times to take care of your health, both physical and mental, and to nurture your interpersonal relationships. Overall a really sweet and deeply calming year awaits you. 

[liyuviq]

100 followers special ❤︎

dear every single one of my followers,

now that i have some time to properly organize my thoughts, let me reiterate how grateful i am for everyone that helped me reached this point.

100 may seem like a small number for many, but for someone who has been doubting her own art skills for a long time, it’s a number that i will greatly treasure in my heart.

from likes, reblogs, comments, and even the amazing mutuals i’ve gained, they all have made me so much more confident in myself and my abilities. you guys are the best and the only regret i have is not joining this community sooner. thank you all so much <3

now, that should be enough sap, so it’s time for me to introduce my 100 followers event!

event details:

to commemorate this special milestone, i hereby announce an event running for a week, from the moment this is posted to the end of sunday (12/1/25 UTC+6:30)! keep in mind this event is only for my followers (though new ones are always welcomed!)

you can request a doodle featuring my twst OC, shin, interacting with either your own twst OC or a canon twst boy! optionally, you may include a question about them, which also helps me come up with ideas.

how you can participate: ・ comment on this post with the 🎀 emoji to participate. ・ specify the character (oc or canon) you would like to be featured! ・ optionally include a question about their dynamics or interactions.

ex: i want to see shin interacts with malleus! what if shin joins the gargoyle research society? 🎀

・ if i reply to your comment with 🎀, it is received and a doodle will be delivered soon!

here is a simple example that requested shin and a character (me!) interacting:

what you will receive: ・ a doodle like the one above based on your request! ・ the art will be posted on my blog (you will be tagged and your comment will be screenshot and included!)

things to keep in mind: ・ exclusively for followers only but new ones are always welcomed! i dont bite ;) ・ remember this will run only a week! at the end i will edit this post to indicate it’s status so please keep an eye out. ・ finally, i will try my best to get you back as soon as possible, but do understand if it takes longer than desired. thank you <3

and that should be all! once again thank you for everyone who supported me, whether old or new. i hope this little event is enough to celebrate this special achievement! have a very nice day!

credits: dividers from @/anitalenia

[lilghostiequinni]

Family = Familia

Main Masterlist Carlando Masterlist

Pairing: Wife!female reader x Lando Norris x Carlos Sainz

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Family, Familia, it was all the same. The word met the same in every language. You found your family in that of two men and they had never made you more happy.

Requested: NO / yes

When you first met your husbands, you had met Lando first.

At first, you didn't want to pursue anything, having just gotten out of a serious good relationship that turned toxic and abusive to both you and your ex.

You did everything that you could to avoid Lando, but he doubled his efforts, that's when you met Carlos.

Then with the both of them pursuing you, it was four times as hard to avoid them.

You thought that they were just enjoying the chase because you wouldn't give in to them.

But then, one day, they both cornered you, and the three just talked.

You told them your concerns about the both of them pursuing you and about them only being interested in the chase.

They eased your concerns and said they both agreed they wouldn't make you choose and would be okay if you chose one or both of them.

They told you it wasn't just about the chase, that it was about you.

Afterward, you gave them a chance after a couple days; you couldn't deny your feelings for both of them, so you told them so.

It started in 2021, and before the end of 2022, you had been married to both of them.

They became your family.

Your own family had practically disowned you after you moved away to college, your dream college; they wanted you to stay behind and take care of your younger siblings rather than live your life.

They didn't even come to your wedding, at least your parents didn't, your siblings did, and your grandparents died, and your aunts and uncles wanted nothing to do with any argument between you and your parents.

So their families became yours.

Cisca and Reyes became not only your mothers-in-law but also treated you as if you were one of their own.

Same with Adam and Carlos Sr.

You were living the life you had always wanted, one with a loving family.

When you found out you were pregnant, you asked both of your husbands if you could design them a helmet, not telling them at first, wanting the helmet to be the surprise.

They originally thought you just wanted to design a helmet for fun.

You made sure they were separate when they opened their helmet bags to see the helmet.

Their respective social media teams had been in on the whole thing and recording their reactions.

Lando was the first to open his helmet; when he opened it, he froze and then turned so fast you would have thought he was in the car.

He got to you in less than thirty seconds, picked you up, and just held you, kissing you and asking if it was true.

When you said yes, you could see the tears in his eyes.

Then you went Carlos, and at first, seeing the helmet, he didn't freeze; he looked at you, then back at the helmet, then back to you, then back to the helmet, then registered what was going on, and then froze.

When he looked back at you again, you just nodded and he was there in three steps, holding you close and kissing you, saying how he was proud.

None of you three wanted to tell anyone else until you were sure that you wouldn't lose the baby.

Well, that turned into never telling anyone else during your whole pregnancy.

The social media teams agreed to not post the videos until you were ready for people to know.

During winter break, when the twins were born after Lando's win in Abu Dhabi, you told the media teams they could post the videos a week later after you told your families.

When you went to dinner with your family, your two husbands went out and said they were sorry that you weren't coming alone.

Everyone was confused as to why you weren't there, not understanding why Lando and Carlos would say that you weren't coming alone.

Then you walked through the door, with your twins.

Everyone was shocked that you kept the whole pregnancy a secret, given none of the three of you could keep one.

What was shocking to everyone when they saw your twins was that you could tell who their father was.

The elder twin was an exact copy of Lando, and the younger was an exact copy of Carlos.

Your family was growing; you couldn't have been happier.

Nothing else mattered to you, just your found familia.

A/N: First in the 100 Follower ship poll.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

[babybearnation]

now i've read all of the books beside your bed

⎇f1 drivers x gn!reader - you're a bookworm (reactions) ⎇contains: alex albon, arthur leclerc, charles leclerc, dino beganovic, george russell, zhou guanyu, kimi antonelli, lance stroll, lando norris, liam lawson, logan sargeant, max verstappen, mick schumacher, ollie bearman, oscar piastri, paul aron, pierre gasly, yuki tsunoda ⎇author's note: im a massive bookworm so this was fun!! some of these are inspired by this post from the lovely @thekoalapastriesbakery (kofi for long fics) ⎇content warnings: n/a ⎇word count: 3k

alex albon:

alex thinks it's pretty cool that you're a reader. your collection may overwhelm him at first (how many fucking books??) but he comes to love it because you love it and isn't that all that matters? he'll try and read some of the books you suggest, but he's just not interested at all in reading. he prefers to go fast.

when you start tearing your luggage apart, he's pretty confused. it's not until you turn to him and tell him you forgot the sequel to the book you're reading that he starts to understand. he'll find the nearest bookstore and take you to it when he can, happily buying you the next book in the series.

alex is gonna be a bit grumpy if you ignore him because you're reading. what book could possibly be more interesting than him? he tries to protest and you just shush him. when he sees how close you are to the end of the book, however, he'll accept it and just not-so-patiently wait for you to finish up.

arthur leclerc:

arthur does not understand what is so exciting about reading. he's constantly chasing that thrill of going fast and fast and faster even still, so he doesn't understand what's so enchanting about reading books. he's got shitty imagination (twins) so he just can't do it. but he'll admire you and your dedication to reading.

uh oh. you forgot the sequel. arthur realised before you did after you'd sent him to get you book #2. he doesn't find it, he finds #3. he has to shyly confess what happened and you are just horrified because what are you supposed to do now? and then he remembers the fact that bookstores exist and he's running off to go and get book 2 to make you happy again.

as outlined above, he doesn't understand why people read. so now that you're reading and ignoring him because of it? nuh uh. no can do. he won't allow it. he'll snatch the book from your hands and keep moving it until you snap and demand he give it back because you have one chapter left. he can wait that, surely? no, no he can't.

charles leclerc:

charles is a bit more understanding of why people like to read but he still personally doesn't like it. he loves watching you read though, because he thinks you look so peaceful and calm and happy. if you start crying though, charles will panic and offer you a hot drink in the hopes of calming you down.

you might've forgotten to bring the sequel on holiday, but charles didn't. he'd spotted the book last second and tucked it into his carry on, already anticipating the moment he'd get to sweep in and play hero. so when you start going through your bags, trying to find book 2 because book 1 ended on a cliffhanger, he triumphantly pulls it out of his bag for you. yeah, he's a bit dramatic.

charles loves watching you read (unless you're crying) so if you ignore him whilst reading, he's not gonna be too bothered about it. he'll sit there and watch you read, maybe pulling out his phone to wait until you notice his presence and answer him. he's really not bothered.

dino beganovic:

the first time dino saw you reading, he honestly didn't know what to think. he's gotten used to it now but that first time.. you read?? why? when you explain to him all the reasons you love reading, he soon finds himself falling in love with it and he'll start carrying one or two books with him when he goes to races.

you're reading the end of this book to dino in between free practice and qualifying and you get to the end and you're ready to start book 2... and it's not there. it's not in your bag. it's not in his bag. it's gone. dino, thinking fast, decides to buy the ebook and read it to you. yeah, that's a new thing you two do now.

dino will not care if you ignore him when you're reading. if it's urgent or he needs to leave, then yeah, he'll be upset, but if it's just a normal, everyday question? he's not bothered. in fact, he's abandoning his question to instead cuddle up to you and (attempt) to read over your shoulder.

george russell:

george will read the occasional thing here and there, but it's nothing compared to how much you read. he loves getting book recs from you even if it takes him for-fucking-ever to read them because he's so busy. he just wants to (try and) stay up to date with your reading!

george definitely packs extra books for you when you go on holiday just in case. so when he spots the abandoned sequel, he'll pack it for you. you won't even realise you almost left it because he'll slip it into your bag before you can notice it's gone.

he might get a bit annoyed if you ignore him because you're reading but when you finish up the book and wordlessly hand it to him, he'll quickly understand why. the book was so entrancing and now he has to read. and then he reads it and oh, he's ignoring you now. whoops?

zhou guanyu:

he loves the peace that reading can bring and he thinks you'll be the exact same and then he sees you launching a book across the room and quickly realises, no, not all reading can be peaceful. you'll have to explain the plot to him so he can understand why you threw the book otherwise he's gonna be so confused.

it's a nightmare. book 2 ends on a cliffhanger and there's no fucking book 3 in your suitcase. you could've sworn you packed it. you tear through all your luggage and end up having to call guanyu (who's out picking up food for you two) because you can't find it. turns out you did pack it... in his suitcase. oops?

guanyu gets it. he really does. sometimes books or other forms of media are just so enrapturing and intense that you can't help but zone out everything else and only focus on what you're consuming. if its urgent, he might gently push your book down, but he's not too bothered about it otherwise.

kimi antonelli:

he may be incredibly smart and have an insane memory, but this man hates reading. when he discovers you love reading, he's actually not that surprised. he'll use his excellent memory to help prevent you from forgetting any details if you're reading a sequel ages after you read the first book.

when kimi comes back from showering to find both of your suitcases completely torn apart, he's a bit confused. what did you forget to pack? when you share that you forgot the sequel to your book, he decides that you and him will find the nearest bookstore to go and buy a second copy because he's refusing to let you be grumpy over the cliffhanger lol.

yeah, no, kimi ain't letting you ignore him for no book. he has no qualms about tearing a book out of your hand until you answer his question. if he just wants your attention, well, good luck. he's stubborn and won't let you have your book back until he's content.

lance stroll:

he may not be into reading but he really likes listening to you recap the stories and books you read because he finds them so interesting. eventually, he'll end up shyly asking you to read to him because you are the best storyteller ever so he wants to consume all books through you.

you're on holiday, somewhere nice and warm, and the book ends and... there's no book 2. you'd left it at home. lance, noticing your lowkey grumpy nature about this, decides to take you to a bookstore so you can buy another copy of the sequel. you can also buy some other books in the process because he doesn't want you to run out of reading material.

lance will be a bit grumpy if you ignore him whilst you're reading only because you could be reading to him and you're not. he'll push his face into your view as he pouts and you'll very quickly learn that he wants you to read to him. he ends up hearing random handfuls of chapters from different books every now and then because he falls asleep sometimes.

lando norris:

if you think this man reads, i have news for you. he doesn't. he really doesn't understand how you like reading, to be honest. if he catches you reading f1 romances? he's demanding to know how accurate they are. the first time he found a book in your bed (it jabbed his rabs), he almost burned it (that's a half joke).

when you pout at lando and tell him you forgot the sequel to the book you've been reading all holiday, he'll aww at you and hug you, but he's celebrating the second your back is turned because now he can have all your attention. lando keeps you so busy and distracted, you forget about the book until you get home and see it on your shelf.

oh come on, you and me both know this man isn't letting you ignore him in favour of reading. the amount of time he's snatched books from your hands and flung them across the room is insane (he always replaces any books he damages though). the only way to placate him is to offer to read to him because he loves your voice so much.

liam lawson:

he might read the occasional comic book series or something like that, but full novels aren't really his forte. he very quickly learns how passionate you are about books and reading, however, and he starts to come to love and appreciate the conversations you two will have about whatever book you're currently reading.

liam is gonna be clueless on what to do when you're on holiday and you tell him you forgot to pack the sequel to the book you were reading. you're not sure you'll be able to find the book in any local shops so you reluctantly admit defeat. but don't worry, liam will cheer you up with silly theories about what happens in book 2.

honestly, liam won't care if you ignore him whilst you're reading. he understands what reading means to you and he knows how easy it is for books to capture your full attention so he'll just carry on as he was before. if he really needs you, however, he'll offer a snack as a peace offering when he interrupts you.

logan sargeant:

he's not really interested in reading but he loves listening to you talk about books. he retains absolutely no information about which series is which and who is who, but he knows your faves and he's always willing to listen to you vent about a shitty read, so that's always fun.

logan pulls the puppiest of puppy eyes when you tell him you forgot to pack the second book in the series you're reading. he isn't sure what to do and he's about to apologise and offer something else for you to do, but then he remembers the wonder of ebooks and offers to buy that for you. up to you what you say, tbh!

logan isn't too bothered about being ignored whilst you're reading. if he has a question, he'll ask you it, but if he just wants attention, he'll choose to cuddle up to you instead of taking you away from your book. he's always content to just be in your company!

max verstappen:

this man has publicly admitted he's only read like... 4 books in his life. he's honestly positive that you won't change that. and you don't, but he does learn more and more about books and sometimes references books you've told him about without realising. it's cute.

max is stressed because you're stressed because you forgot the final book in the trilogy you were reading. he's not sure how because the whole thing came in a box so why didn't you just bring the box but soon enough he's seeking out the nearest book store to get you a replacement.

yeah, no, you're not allowed to ignore him in favour of reading. if he's feeling really needy, that book is taking flying lessons. he once accidentally threw one out the window and, in return, you told some of the other drivers about it. he's never lived it down.

mick schumacher:

he probably enjoys a good book here and there so when he discovers you're a bookworm, he's happily asking you for recommendations. he may not read as much as you, but he does truly admire that you have something so enchanting in common.

darling angel baby mick schumacher would never let you forget a single book behind, even if you're just going to his parents' house for the weekend. not a single chance in hell you've forgotten. if you've somehow miraculously forgotten it, he's buying you a second copy before you can even tell him not to.

mick doesn't mind you ignoring him whilst you're reading. he gets it. he might sometimes ask you to read to him, but most of the time he'll just snatch up his own book and come join you. spending time with you is one of his favourite things, no matter how you two pass the time.

ollie bearman:

this boy don't read. he's too chaotic for that. he might listen to you talk about books occasionally, but honestly, he has no interest. you owning a large amount of books will leave him totally stunned and he'll constantly pull random books off your shelf to ask if you've read them.

ollie is terrified. you'd just finished crying over the ending of the 2nd book and then you burst into tears all over again because you didn't have the third book. he isn't sure what to do and eventually decides on offering you a different book he's "interested in" in the hopes it'll take your mind off of the missing third book.

contrary to the above, ollie isn't all that bothered about you ignoring him in favour of reading. he sees you looking cozy with a book in your hands and his first (and only) thought is: that's the perfect napping spot. yeah, nine times out of ten, your reading session is very briefly interrupted by a sleepy bear sliding into your lap. enjoy!

oscar piastri:

i think oscar would try and read but he'd never get very far and he'd end up leaving a trail of unfinished books behind him. when he finds out you're a reader, however, he tries to use that as motivation. it doesn't work but he's very supportive of your hobby nonetheless!

oscar just sighs and googles the nearest bookstore when you come to him complaining about forgetting to pack the sequel to the latest book you read. he knew you'd forgotten something so he'd already been prepared to have to rebuy something. to him, this is very tame.

isn't bothered at all that you're choosing reading over him. he'll either take this as an opportunity to nap (cuddled up to you, of course) or he'll ask you to read to him. you might have to play catch up if you're in the middle of a book or ask him to wait for you to start the next one, but he's really not that bothered.

paul aron:

another member of the might occasionally read gang. paul prefers watching stuff to reading, but a good book can easily capture his attention. he loves listening to you talk about books and if you ever want to lend him a book, he will read it cover to cover, even if he hates it, because you gave it to him.

paul isn't sure what to do when you tell him you forgot to bring the sequel of a book with you on holiday. you don't want to buy another copy because what's the point, but you're also dying to know what happens next. paul eventually decides to get the ebook for you and hopes you can make some progress with that version of the book.

this is where paul gets into his baby girl side. you're not allowed to ignore him, that's just rude. he won't tear the book away like some of the other drivers would, but he's definitely gonna call your name over and over until you answer him. it's annoying, sure, but it works 100% of the time.

pierre gasly:

he's not really a reader but the first time he discovered you were, he asked you to read to him and now he's obsessed with books... only if you narrate them. it's a bit silly and he'll never tell anyone lest he be teased horrifically for it, but he's a biiiiit sappy.

another one who knows instantly to find the nearest bookstore and get you a replacement copy when you tell him you forgot to pack the sequel to the book you're reading. he'll even offer to let you get a few more books as well to avoid this issue happening again. it's charming, really.

you're his personal audiobook narrator, remember? you physically cannot ignore him whilst you're reading. he will push his way into your personal bubble and impatiently wait for you to read the book to him. again, it's a bit silly, but you go along with it because you still get to read at the end of the day.

yuki tsunoda:

yuki's probably read a few manga here and there whilst growing up, but he's not really a novel reader. if you read manga, he might ask to borrow your favourites, but he'll let you keep the long, wordy books to yourself. feel free to read him to sleep though!

when you tell yuki you've forgotten the sequel to the book you just finished reading, he's a bit awkward. does he offer to buy you another copy? or does he try and push you towards reading something else? by the time he's made a decision, you're already halfway through your next book.

you're not allowed to ignore yuki ever, let alone when you're reading. he'll bully his way onto your lap and pout at you until you put the book down and give him a sufficient enough amount of kisses. its over 100 kisses btw so i hope you weren't in the middle of a chapter!

© all rights to babybearnation 2025.

[jarenka]

tags by @gffa

(sorry for using your tags for that rant about translations, don't feel yourself obligated to answer or something like that)

I don't want to disappoint you, but there are many edits in English translation of The Three-Body problem. I assume you can learn more about them here (I don't have access to an article itself) and also here Ken Liu says that he updated some outdated info. I don't think it's bad itself if done in a tandem with an author, but original and the translation will feel different. The Chinese reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has a natural prose flow, sexist language and uses outdated info from 2006, the English reader would say that The Three-Body Problem has unusual prose (honestly, I don't know, my knowledge of English is not enough to make judgments about qualities of the prose), no sexist language and uses info from 2014.

For me this approach that it's ok to edit the content of the book but the reader should feel that they read a translated book feels very performative to me. Honestly my first thought after reading this post and various tags was "Yes, guys, only 3% of your book market is translated literature, so you want to feel really special while reading Exotic Foreign Literature". But also, what kind of "rhythm of another language" you all are taking about? It's not that I don't know any other languages other than my own (I write this in a foreign language), but there is no specific "rhythm of the X language", literature in any language is very diverse in rhythm and style. Do you feel like Dickens, Sara J. Maas and Hemingway have the same rhythm and cadence because they all write and English? Transporting the style of the prose into another language is a very tricky thing. Ironically, I know one Russian translation that spectacularly failed at it. The Catcher in The Rye was translated in English in USSR and unfortunately was censored, so in 2008 another translator attempted to translate it, and this translation was... controversial. Imo, it was just absolutely horrendous in its tone and style. It sounds like an attempt of a middle aged Russian dude who has never spoke with a teenager in their life to write from POV of the edgy teenager.

Yes, literary translation is a big can of worms, and every translator choses between different strategies of translation what book and for which audience they translate. And some things are untranslatable at all.

For example, regional dialects. For example, German and (British) English has super distinct regional dialects, so people in different cities in Germany and Britain speak very differently, people in different cities of Russia speaks almost identically with very minor quirks in some regions. There are more difference between Russian speakers in rural areas, but even of we use these differences German guy from Bavaria speaks like a guy from the village near Tver. Cockney dialect is absolutely untranslatable to Russian.

Same goes to some artistic effects. The beginning of the War and Peace novel is (in)famous for dialogues in French. They amplify for Russian readers how actually common for Russian aristocracy to speak in French. But when you translate it into French, what are you going to do with them?

(I mean yes, you won't translate it, but the artistic purpose of these paragraphs is lost in French translation)

The same with Russian translation of A Clockwork Orange. It has slang in Russian that is supposed to alienate the reader, but in Russian translation they are just Russian words written in Latin alphabet, and they are completely understandable for Russian readers.

Some jokes are untranslatable. Some set expressions might have significance for the plot/dialogue, so translator need to use a footnote to explain this nuance for the reader.

Anyway as someone who read majority of books and translation (which is normal for avid Russian-speaker reader) and specifically goes out their way to read mystery/thriller and literary fiction translated from different languages, I feel like linguistic aspects of foreign literature is just a miniscule point of my interest. Yes, I find out about Finnish slang word for lesbian, but overall it's more interesting to see what people in other countries are writing about. Of course my experience is severely skewed by the fact that book should be translated into Russian for me to read it, but they are still books that are written for an audience in another country and about things that are interesting and important for them. For example last year I've read three books by French writers of African decent, all with different plots but with similar themes of French colonialism and relationships between France and its (former) colonies. I just don't think that you would be ever able to read from this perspective if you don't read in French or you don't read books translated from French.

"The best translations into English do not, in fact, read as if they were originally written in English. The English words are arranged in such a way that the reader sees a glimpse of another culture’s patterns of thinking, hears an echo of another language’s rhythms and cadences, and feels a tremor of another people’s gestures and movements."

— Ken Liu, Translator’s Postface to The Three-Body Problem

[lovrx-s]

Unheard Cries

Jenna Ortega x F!Reader

Contains: contains themes of depression, self-harm, and suicide.

a/n: [Please proceed with caution and seek help if you’re struggling :(] I have a part two of this! Idk if i should still post it or not

The light in the apartment had dimmed over the past few months, and so had you.

You and Jenna used to fill this space with laughter and late-night conversations, but lately, it felt like she wasn’t really there anymore. Physically, sure—her bags in the hallway, her perfume lingering in the bathroom—but her presence, the love and warmth you once felt, seemed to have disappeared.

You’d started feeling like a ghost in your own home.

Day One

You stared at the bedroom ceiling as the morning light filtered through the blinds. Jenna was already gone. Again.

She had left early, as she often did, muttering something about a meeting or an interview. She didn’t even kiss you goodbye.

You tried to shake it off, telling yourself that she was just busy. That this distance wasn’t personal. But as the hours dragged on and the silence of the apartment grew deafening, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest.

By the time Jenna returned, you were sitting on the couch, your arms wrapped around yourself for comfort.

“Hey,” you greeted her softly, but your voice came out weaker than intended.

“Hey,” she replied absentmindedly, her attention already on her phone as she kicked off her shoes.

“Can we talk?” you asked, the words sticking in your throat.

“Not now,” she said sharply, not even looking up. “I’m exhausted.”

Your heart sank as you watched her retreat to the bedroom, leaving you behind with nothing but the growing weight of your loneliness.

Day Three

You tried to reach out again. Tried to let her know that you were drowning in your own head.

“Jenna,” you began hesitantly, watching her sip her coffee across the table. “I’ve been feeling… off lately. Like, really off.”

She sighed, placing the mug down a little too hard. “Can we not do this right now? I just got back from a 12-hour shoot.”

“I know, but—”

“No, you don’t know,” she snapped, her voice cutting through the air like a whip. “You don’t understand how hard this is for me, okay? You just sit here all day while I’m out working my ass off, and then you want to unload all your problems on me? It’s too much.”

The words hit you like a slap. Your chest tightened, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

“Forget it,” you mumbled, standing up from the table.

“Good,” she muttered under her breath, grabbing her coffee and walking away.

Day Five

You stayed in bed most of the day, staring at the ceiling, replaying Jenna’s words over and over. Clingy. Too much. Annoying.

She hadn’t come home the night before, and she didn’t bother to text you.

The apartment felt emptier than ever.

You got up only to look at the small collection of pills in the medicine cabinet. The thought lingered, but you shook it off, telling yourself, Not yet.

Day Nine

Jenna’s absence had become your new normal. She was always out—at work, with friends, anywhere but with you.

When she was home, she was distant, distracted, and irritable.

That night, you tried again. You sat beside her on the couch, your hands trembling as you reached for hers.

“Jenna, can we talk?” you asked quietly.

“What is it now?” she groaned, pulling her hand away.

“I’m not okay,” you admitted, tears welling up in your eyes. “I feel like I’m falling apart, and I don’t know how to stop it.”

She looked at you then, her expression hard and cold. “You’re always like this. Do you even hear yourself? It’s exhausting, Y/N. You’re so clingy and needy all the time, and honestly? I can’t deal with it.”

You stared at her, your chest tightening as the tears spilled over.

“Do you even love me anymore?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

She hesitated, and that pause was louder than any answer she could’ve given.

“I don’t know,” she finally said, standing up and leaving you alone on the couch.

Day Fourteen

You hadn’t eaten in two days. Your body felt weak, but the heaviness in your chest was worse.

Jenna had left early that morning without saying goodbye. Again.

You sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the blade in your hand. The thought had been creeping closer every day, and now, it felt impossible to ignore.

But a small voice inside you whispered, One more chance. Just one.

You stood up and cleaned yourself up.

Day Fifteen

When Jenna walked through the door that evening, you approached her cautiously.

“Hey,” you said, your voice trembling. “Can we talk? Please?”

“God, what is it now?” she snapped, throwing her bag on the couch.

“I just… I need you,” you said, tears brimming in your eyes. “I need you to listen to me, to be here for me.”

She rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic, Y/N. You act like the whole world revolves around you. I can’t keep doing this.”

Your heart broke into pieces, each word cutting deeper than the last.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, stepping back. “I didn’t mean to bother you.”

She sighed and walked past you, heading to the bedroom.

You watched her go, the final thread of hope snapping inside you.

That night, Jenna woke up to an eerie silence. She rolled over, expecting to find you beside her, but the bed was cold and empty.

“Y/N?” she called out, but there was no answer.

Panic set in as she searched the apartment, finally finding the bathroom door locked.

“Y/N! Open the door!” she shouted, banging on it desperately.

When she finally forced it open, her heart stopped at the sight of you on the floor, lifeless, a crumpled note beside you.

Tears streamed down her face as she dropped to her knees, cradling your lifeless body.

“I’m sorry,” she sobbed. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it.”

But it was too late.

You were gone.

And Jenna was left with nothing but guilt and the memory of every cruel word she’d ever said.