#which sounds like something im in no way qualified for

[guinevereslancelot]

abt to apply for a real adult grown up job idk if i can handle it tho even if i get it 😅🙏

[weirdlizard26]

so bizarre to me that my love language is apparently recording music for people. how did this even happen

[its-avalon-08]

Can you write one about Nico Hülkenberg in which he has a secret girlfriend and one day she's in the paddock and everyone is like: Bro, who is she??!!! and he's like "That's my wife!!" (please, read in John Mulaney's voice)

my proudest accomplishment (nh27)

nico hulkenberg was a master of compartmentalization. on the track, he was a steely-eyed racer, a whirlwind of focus and precision. but off it, with y/n by his side, he was a different person entirely. laughter lines crinkled around his eyes as he teased her, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper when sharing an inside joke.

keeping their relationship a secret wasn't easy. y/n, fiercely independent, refused to be just another arm candy on the f1 circuit. nico, ever the private soul, valued his focus. so, stolen glances across crowded paddocks and late-night video calls became their norm.

one scorching bahrain grand prix weekend, nico was in the zone. he'd qualified a surprising p3, and the team buzzed with nervous anticipation. as nico entered the motorhome, his eyes scanned the room, searching for his usual source of calm – y/n. but she was nowhere to be seen.

a knot of worry tightened in his stomach. they'd agreed she wouldn't come to the paddock often, the attention overwhelming for her introverted nature. just then, a flash of movement by the window caught his eye. y/n, her back pressed against the glass, fiddled with a camera, her face flushed a light pink.

nico's heart melted. he crossed the room silently, the thump of the music the only sound. y/n jumped, the camera nearly slipping from her grasp.

"nico!" she squeaked, a relieved smile blooming on her face.

he cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray strand of hair. "hey there, sunshine. what are you doing hiding?"

y/n mumbled something about not wanting to be in the way. nico scooped her into a hug, the familiar scent of her vanilla perfume grounding him.

"you're never in the way," he murmured, his voice low and warm.

suddenly, the door swung open, revealing his grinning teammate, kevin magnussen .

"hulkenberg! ready to lose again?" kevin teased, his eyes widening as they fell on y/n. "whoa, who's this stunner?"

y/n shrank back, her cheeks burning even brighter. nico felt a surge of protectiveness. he took y/n's hand, his grip firm yet gentle.

"this," he declared, a hint of pride in his voice, "is my beautiful wife, y/n."

the playful smirk vanished from kevin's face, replaced by genuine surprise. "wife? you never said..."

nico leaned in and kissed y/n softly, the gesture both intimate and public. when he pulled back, a triumphant glint shone in his eyes.

"we like to keep things private," he said, his voice laced with a playful challenge.

y/n, still flustered but undeniably happy, hid a smile behind her hand. the weight of everyone's attention was a little suffocating, but seeing the pride in nico's eyes, the way he held himself a little taller with her by his side, made it all worth it. maybe, just maybe, a little public declaration wouldn't hurt. after all, having nico by her side, as her husband, was a victory lap she wouldn't trade for anything.

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

i hope you enjoyed! happy reading <3 do send in more requests! as for pre existing requests- im working on it! lots of love ava

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

[boombox-fuckboy]

any podcast recommendations for guys Going Through It. im a sucker for whump and i’ve already listened to TMA and Malevolent sooo

Fiction Podcasts: Characters Going Through It / Experiencing the Horrors

Gore warning for most, here's 15 to get you started:

I am in Eskew: (Horror) David Ward is arguably the Guy Going Through It. Stories from a man living in something that very much wants to be a city, and a private investigator who was, in her words, "hired to kill a ghost". Calmly recounted stories set to Eskew's own gentle, persistent rain. The audio quality's a bit naff but the writing is spectacular. If you like the writing, also check out The Silt Verses, which is a brilliant show by the same creators.

VAST Horizon: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Thriller/Suspense Elements) And Dr. Nolira Ek is arguably the Gal Going Through it. An agronomist wakes from cryo to discover the ship she's on is dead in the water, far from their destination, and seemingly empty, barring the ship's malfunctioning AI, and an unclear reading on the monitors. I think you'll like this one. Great sound design, amazing acting, neat worldbuilding, and plenty of awful situations.

Dining in the Void: (Horror, Sci-Fi) So, the initial pacing on this one is a little weird, but stick with it. A collection of notable people are invited to a dinner aboard a space station, and find not only are they trapped there, but they're on a timer until total station destruction: unless they can figure out who's responsible. And there's someone else aboard to run a few games, just to make things more interesting. The games are frequently torturous. If that wasn't clear.

The White Vault: (Horror) By the same creators as VAST Horizon, this one follows a group sent to a remote arctic research base to diagnose and repair a problem. Trapped inside by persistant snow and wind, they discover something very interesting below their feet. Really well made show. The going through it is more spread out but there's a lot of it happening.

Archive 81: (Horror, Weird Fiction, Mystery and Urban Fantasy Elements) A young archivist is commissioned to digitize a series of tapes containing strange housing records from the 1990s. He has an increasingly bad time. Each season is connected but a bit different, so if S1 (relatively short) doesn't catch your ear, hang in for S2. You've got isolation, degredation of relationships, dehumanisation, and a fair amount of gore. And body horror on a sympathetic character is so underdone.

The Harrowing of Minerva Damson: (Fantasy, Horror) In an alternate version of our own world with supernatural monsters and basic magic, an order of women knights dedicated to managing such problems has survived all the way to the world wars, and one of them is doing her best with what she's got in the middle of it all.

SAYER: (Horror, Sci-Fi) How would you like to be the guy going through it? A series of sophisticated AI guide you soothingly through an array of mundane and horrible tasks.

WOE.BEGONE: (Sci-Fi) I don't keep up with this one any more, but I think Mike Walters goes through enough to qualify it. Even if it's frequently his own fault. A guy gets immediately in over his head when he begins to play an augmented reality game of entirely different sort. Or, the time-travel murder game.

Janus Descending: (Sci-Fi, Horror, Tragedy) A xenobiologist and a xenoanthropologist visit a dead city on a distant world, and find something awful. You hear her logs first-to-last, and his last-to-first, which is interesting framing but also makes the whole thing more painful. The audio equivalent of having your heart pulled out and ditched at the nearest wall. Listen to the supercut.

The Blood Crow Stories: (Horror) A different story every season. S1 is aboard a doomed cruise ship set during WWII, S2 is a horror western, S3 is cyberpunk with demons, and S4 is golden age cinema with a ghostly influence.

Mabel: (Supernatural, Horror, Fantasy Elements) The caretaker of a dying woman attempts to contact her granddaughter, leaving a series of increasingly unhinged voicemails. Supernatural history transitioning to poetic fae lesbian body horror.

Jar of Rebuke: (Supernatural) An amnesiac researcher with difficulties staying dead investigates strange creatures, eats tasty food, and even makes a few friends while exploring the town they live in. A character who doesn't stay dead creates a lot of scenarios for dying in interesting ways

The Waystation: (Sci-Fi, Horror) A space station picks up an odd piece of space junk which begins to have a bizzare effect on some of the crew. The rest of it? Doesn't react so well to this spreading strangeness. Some great nailgun-related noises.

Station Blue: (Psychological Horror) A drifting man takes a job as a repair technician and maintenance guy for an antarctic research base, ahead of the staff's arrival. He recounts how he got there, as his time in the base and some bizzare details about it begin to get to him. People tend to either quite like this one or don't really get the point of it, but I found it a fascinating listen.

The Hotel: (Horror) Stories from a "Hotel" which kills people, and the strange entities that make it happen. It's better than I'm making it sound, well-made with creative deaths, great sound work, and a strange staff which suffer as much as the guests. Worth checking out.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hi! Im a Black hobbyist writer, and I'm making an alternate story for a a Queer Black (Gullah) character of mine in a grimdark horror setting in the future that includes monsters. I wanted to try and reimagine a lot of Black fears/experiences into supernatural and/or gothic experiences while still exploring both themes and depictions of anti blackness.* And while it's totally a horror story & the start it is just as much a reclamation story for breaking cycles and revenge against racists/racist systems. While this is the kind of story I think I'm qualified to write, I really wanted to get feedback from other Black people because I know my experiences alone aren't enough sometimes (And I have a hard time finding other Black people in fandom spaces but I'm working on it!) I know usually when people send in concepts they explain the full concept but the full thing might be too long to send in asks all in one go with explaining the situation.

*Technically, a lot of horror displays Black trauma, but usually, it's not from a Black POV. Or it doesn't actually cover Black fears like typical horror covers white ones. Or is it usually as is instead of the millions of artistic ways other franchises might depict other fears. Which as a horror fan I hated and wanted to do something about

If this is something I could get some feedback on, I'll send another ask or go off anon to talk about. If not, that's also ok! I just wanted to shoot my shot a bit cause I've been a little too shy to send asks up until recently

Calling Black fans!

I will always make space to support a Black creative when they ask! Also woo! Gullah! Some of my ancestors are apparently Gullah-Geechee. I always wished I could have had more of a cultural connection, but alas. Assimilation. And I know what you mean; how Get Out is Black Horror in how it targets specifically what is terrifying for Black viewers. Me personally, something I want to see more of is paleness/whiteness to describe evil. Evil is always "darkness", "blackness", "mourning", "death". Meanwhile, in China for example, white is the color at funerals. Maybe things that are bright pale white are scary, instead of divine! Like, for example... Klan robes 👀 maybe the description of those terrifying ghosts sounds eerily familiar.

[givemea-dam-break]

hello my love <3 can i request fluff with lockwood where y/n is sick and she also has injury on her hand (something like lucy's maybe?) and when lockwood wants to clean it she's not happyy about that 'cause she only wants to sleep and he's like "i'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? you have to listen to me, love", btw i absolutely adore your stories, keep writing cause you're amazingg, mwah <3

a/n: of course!!! domestic lockwood is the best in my humble opinion. and im so glad you like my stuff so much, love you my dear <3 also taking this as an opportunity to apologise for the terrible titles for most of my fics i spend ages thinking but can never think of something good lmao

warnings: minor injury detail gn reader

Perfect - Anthony Lockwood

The library is the warmest room in the house, and by far your favourite, so it's no surprise when Lockwood finds you there, curled up on your designated armchair close to dozing. He smiles at you as he steps in, carrying a tray of something or other that he places down on the little coffee table before sitting in his armchair.

There's something about him today that makes you want to laugh. Maybe it's the way he's been mothering you all day because you're ill. Maybe it's the lack of Anthony Lockwood professionalism he has today, what with his crinkled hoodie and pink fluffy socks - aren't those the ones George has been looking for? He's so unlike his usual self today, but also inadvertently just like himself. A walking anomaly.

"How are you feeling now?" he asks quietly, as if your ears may explode if he speaks too loud. "Any better?"

"No better than I did seven minutes ago," you say with a laugh. "Lockwood, you don't have to keep a constant eye on me. You've got things to do."

"One of which being to take care of you," he says. "Which reminds me, are you finally going to let me take a look at that cut on your arm? It needs cleaning."

"I trust you with my life, but I do not trust you with the first aid kit. You'll shove half a tube of Germaline on it. Besides, I want to go to sleep, and here is cosier than my room."

He gives you a look, but it's halfhearted. "You can sleep once I've cleaned it. I've brought you some of your favourite biscuits and a brew in return."

You lift your head from where it had laid on your arms. "Doesn't sound like a very fair trade for you."

"Ah, I'll cope."

"Well, it doesn't hurt anymore. I'm sure it's healed amazingly and then I'll be back to my wonderful self in no time."

"I'm not leaving until I've at least taken a look at it. Then after that, you can have your tea and go to sleep." His grin is dazzling then. It's the kind he always uses when he's trying to get his way. "I'm your fully qualified doctor, remember? You've got to listen to me."

If you could be bothered, you could push for him to leave you in peace, but your head feels like it's full of water and you want to go to sleep. So, begrudgingly, you shift so that your arm hangs over the armrest of your chair.

The gentleness of Lockwood's hands as he takes your arm and slowly, carefully peels off the plaster you haphazardly placed on shocks you. His fingers are soft, holding your arm as if it's a delicate thing that could break at any moment.

He takes a minute to just look at the gash on your forearm. It's no longer than your index finger, cutting diagonally across halfway up, and it's still oozing some blood. The plaster is covered in it, and he deftly throws it into the bin before taking his little first aid kit from the tray he brought in. Its original purpose was for you to use it on him whenever he got banged up on cases, which was more often than not, but there's something strangely special about him using it on you now. It makes you feel a little giddy.

"You got this from a glass door, right?"

You're acutely aware of his touch as he shifts his grip so as to clean the cut. "Yeah. George knocked me into it by accident. I'm surprised this is all I got out of it."

His reply comes in the form of a quiet hum. As he cautiously cleans the wound, you watch as his brows furrow a little with concentration, creasing a little line between them, and his top lip twitches a little bit. A little quirk, you've noticed, when he's particularly invested in something. Usually, it's the latest gossip rag, in which he always loses sight of the real world, but now it's you. A small flutter arises in your chest.

He wipes over a small part of the gash, and you suck in a sharp breath. The sound makes him falter, the wipe hovering an inch above your skin as he looks up at you.

For a moment, then, you forget about the pain. Through his thick lashes, his eyes are brimmed with worry and apologies, but after insistence that you're fine, he continues to clean the fresh blood away.

"Let me put the cream on the plaster," you murmur. "You'll put way too much on."

He smiles. "Who's the qualified doctor here?"

"In all honesty, Skull is probably better at this kind of thing than you are."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"Do."

But, even still, he passes you the tube of Germaline and a long plaster. A moment later, you pass it back, and with delicate hands, he places it over the gash. It stings a little, and you hiss at the sudden cold, but the feelings are gone before the minute is even over.

"Perfect," he says with a soft, private smile. "All sorted."

His hand lingers, still holding your arm, and you suddenly feel more awake than ever. It's as if the tiredness has just melted away into the cushions of the armchair and down into the floor with only his touch, and you yearn for him to not let go. To stay exactly where he is.

And, as if having read your mind, he does.

If someone were to walk in, the scene would be strange. You, curled up in your seat with your arm hanging over the armrest, head resting on your own shoulder, and Lockwood, holding your arm as if it's some valuable thing, and simply looking at you with those expressive eyes of his.

"How do you feel?" he asks. His voice is a little breathy.

You're trying not to focus on the feeling of his fingers slipping down your arm until they almost - almost - slot in between yours. You shift slightly so that your head is in a position that isn't causing a crick in your neck, and it only grants a better view of him. His dark hair glowing bronze in the firelight, the ever so faint freckles on his nose, the dip in the left corner of his lip that insinuates another smile.

"A little better." The words almost catch in your throat when his fingers curl around yours just so. They don't hold yours, but they're so, so close. You can feel his pulse - or is that yours beating wildly out of control? "Do you have any paracetamol?"

He takes a second to realise what you've just said, and his hand leaves yours as he rakes about in the first aid kit for the painkillers. Out of pure mothering ability, he pops two out of the packet and hands them to you along with your mug of tea. Not the nicest thing to swallow them down with, but it'll do.

"You need to be more careful on cases," Lockwood says.

"Tell that to George. He's the one who bumped into me." Then, you shrug. "I suppose I shouldn't have gone when I've got the worst head cold I've had in yonks."

A breathy laugh escapes his lips, and you notice how he's looking down at your hand.

It's a bold move, completely unlike you, but you reach for his hand, looping your fingers through his. His hand is warm and, yes, that's definitely your erratic pulse.

It takes a lot to catch Lockwood off guard, but that does the trick. For a moment, it's like he can't decide whether or not to look at your linked hands or at you, and you laugh at the sight of it.

"This is wholly inappropriate," he jokes. "Doctors and patients shouldn't do anything remotely like this."

You must be out of your mind entirely because you lean over and press a kiss to his knuckles. "What about that?"

The expression on his face reminds you of when the TV signal has gotten busted, and the four-person-army of Lockwood and Co, plus a glowing and crude Skull, are sitting around it angrily waiting for it to stop buffering. When the picture freezes, glitches a little bit, and buffers for even longer. You can almost see the buttons and wires in his mind, struggling to compute what you just did.

That's not to say you aren't the complete same. Truthfully, you shocked yourself with the kiss, and you sit here now, staring at the spot where your lips touched his skin.

You're ill, you remind yourself. Maybe he'll pass it off as delusion.

"Would you mind if I weren't your doctor for a little?"

Frowning a little, confused, you say, "No...?"

You've never seen a person move as fast as Lockwood does then. Before you know it, he's leaning over your entwined hands and his lips are brushing yours so softly, giving you room to move if it's something you don't want. But you do. You want it more than anything.

Everything seems to melt away at the moment you press your lips firmly onto his. The library, the fireplace filled with dancing orange flames, your horrible cold, the sting of anti-septic cream on your fresh cut. You're aware only of his lips on yours, his fingers twisted in yours, the warmth of his hand. Every nerve in your body feels as though it's about to combust. Your heart is practically beating through your chest. God, your hands are awfully sweaty.

Only a moment later, he pulls away, but his face stays so close to yours that you can feel his breath on your cheek.

You want to say something romantic, maybe something smart or snarky like you usually would, but all you can think of is, "You're going to get a cold now."

"It's just as well we have Skull, then, huh?" His laugh is soft and airy, and you could catch it between your lips if you so wished. "I'm sure I'll be fine."

His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips, and you're positive that if he weren't holding your hand right now, you'd implode in a burst of sparks and fireworks.

"Well, if you're so sure -"

Knowing where the sentence is going, he presses his lips to yours once more, and it's perfect.

[supercalime]

I can’t believe I found people who think about this the exact same way as I do. I don’t get these hardcore buddie stans who suddenly try to make it look like buckTommy shipper are the toxic ones. I haven’t seen a single BuckTommy shipper who was rude without a reason (maybe a bit defensive about their CANON ship). Whereas I’ve seen plenty of incredibly toxic buddie stans who insult everyone who doesn’t ship their ship or share their opinions.

Another thing and don’t get me wrong Im not defending anyone. But I’ve seen many people heavily bullying the marisol actress because she’s apparently homophobic (not saying she isn’t or is) and wanting her to be gone beacause of this reason but totally ignore the alleged racism of ryan (again not saying he is racist or not, i dont know them personally) just because he is part of their beloved ship. By their logic Ryan should leave the show too.

Hey anon, it took me some time to answer your ask (chaotic life stuff lol) but I’m glad to finally have time to talk about this first part with you.

I’ll preface by saying I won’t get involved in actor drama, no matter how true or toxic it is because I don’t have enough information nor am I qualified to talk about the issues they mishandled. I’ll just say that, no matter who does bad things, they should be held accountable.

Okay, back to the main point: yes, it’s very strange how b*ddie st*ns are behaving towards the canon bi!buck thing. Both with people who ship bucktommy but also with the creators and actors on the show. Regardless if they are right or not about b*ddie being canon, this is not how you act with entertainment, specially with the people giving the content.

I hate to bash but it looks and sounds a lot like a toddler throwing a tantrum because they didn’t get a specific toy.

And toddlers only throw tantrums because they are brand new humans who are learning how to behave. They don’t know any better so they react with outbursts and repeated demands because it’s the only way they know to get the attention of the person taking care of them.

If I’m not mistaken, the main audience for the show is 18-45. NO ONE here should be yelling in comment sections “we want buddie! we want buddie! we want buddie!” as if they would immediately get it. It’s not how it works and it’s frankly embarrassing to see a bunch of adults acting like that for everyone to see.

And I can’t stress it enough, I’m not putting myself on a high ground here and saying I’m a better person by shipping bucktommy, as I’m sure there might be a percentage of fans out there being rude and annoying as well. But at least I’m keeping my conscience clear by not acting like me shipping two characters is something big enough in my life to ruin my enjoyment of a whole show in case my favorite ship doesn’t become canon.

I hate how fandoms behave as if they can have control over the content they are consuming. We aren’t entitled to anything and if there is supposed to be ANY discourse about which character was supposed to end with, that should happen AFTER the show ended! The story isn’t over yet! So why are b*ddie st*ns so stressed? If a show is making you this angry and demanding, please step aside a little, give it some distance because that’s not how consuming content is supposed to make you feel.

And I say that last part with sincerity because I too got way too involved with fandom discourse in the past, to the point that I had to distance myself from certain shows because being that involved made me upset.

Im just tired at this point you know. Im trying to protect myself as much as possible. Im not in the bird app, I don’t follow the show or the actors on social media, im avoiding interviews like the plague. All I want from this experience is to watch the show, gather my thoughts, form my opinions, log onto tumblr and reblog the cute stuff I see about my favorite ship without having to worry about whatever the hell is going on outside my pretty little bubble

[racinginchid3nt]

I’d Probably Still Adore You | Part Two

Y/N x Lance Stroll, Y/N Best Friend x Pierre

Gasly

In which a night at the club and a game of never have I ever turns into something new

Inspired by 505 - Arctic Monkeys

Warnings: Mild references to hookups but nothing graphic

One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six

————————————————————————

Friday

Free practice was cool, but qualifying was absolutely exhilarating. It was one thing to see the cars on tv, but seeing them in person was a different story. It was the first time you really truly understood just how fast they were going. The sounds rang through the paddock. The stands were already crowded, fans coming out in force to watch.

You snapped a picture with your best friend. She sported a light pink purse and Alpine top in support of Pierre. You went a more neutral route, light wash jeans, a plain black top, and a cream bag. It felt wrong for you to wear another team or drivers gear when you were in the alpine paddock, so you opted to forgo any merch.

As you and Y/N Best Friend walked in you noticed fans taking your picture. She gave a polite smile and a wave while you tried to keep a low profile. While your friend didn’t mind the mild celebrity that came with dating a driver, the idea of people invading your privacy was enough for you to shy away in hopes you would be cropped out. Besides, who cared about outfits during free practice anyways?

The alpine car glided around the track smoothly, this wasn’t Pierre’s first time driving Spa, and it showed. It had a lot of bad memories for him, and you hoped he had a better race this year. Your train of thought was interrupted by your friend.

“Oh shit. We ended up on the wag account Y/N. I know it’s not your thing but it looks like they didn’t tag you. Do you want me to not tag you in things this weekend? Your face is kind of hidden in it.” Your best friend said.

“Um. I don’t really know. Im not dating anyone obviously so I think it should be fine. They won’t care about me anyways.”

But you would come to learn that the fans were much too inquisitive for their own good.

————————————————————————

Saturday

Y/N Best Friend knocked on your door bright and early Saturday morning. She had been sleeping in Pierre’s room the entire trip, coming back only for clothes and necessities or to hang out when Pierre was busy.

As the two of you got ready for the day, crowding the counter with makeup and hair tools, she ran you through on the plan for the day. You’d head to the sprint early, stay until the end, and then spend some time relaxing afterwards.

When you arrived at the track, the crowds were massive. The walkway to the paddock entrance was roped off, but it did nothing to restrain the crowds as they screamed at Pierre. You hugged your friend goodbye and continued on through security.

You headed quickly to the Alpine hospitality to grab a pastry and a coffee. As you made your way through the paddock, you stared at the crowds. Flags and banners covered the grandstands, a sea of colorful hats and shirts, supporting the various drivers.

As you stopped to take it all in, you heard a voice.

“Crazy isn’t it?”

“Yeah.” You replied.

“First time in the paddock?” The voice replied.

“First time at a race.”

“Well, this is definitely the way to do it. I’m Carlos. And you are?”

“Y/N.”

“Nice to meet you Y/N. Are you having a good weekend so far?”

“Yes. It’s been wonderful. I can’t wait for tomorrow.”

“Carlos! Where’d you go man?” A voice yelled in the distance.

“Over here!” He replied.

As you turned around you saw Lando Norris make his way to the two of you.

“Oh I’m sorry. Am I interrupting something?” Lando asked.

“No no. You’re fine!” You replied.

“Lando, meet Y/N. Y/N meet Lando.” Said Carlos.

The younger man greeted you with a wide smile.

“We’ll hello Y/N! It’s lovely to meet you. How do you know Carlos?” He replied.

“We actually just met.” You said.

“Oh cool. Are you here with anyone?”

“Yeah, my friend is somewhere. I’m supposed to be meeting back up with her before the sprint starts.”

The noise of your phone ringing, drew the conversation to an end.

“That’s her. I have to take this. Lovely meeting you both, good luck!” You said.

“Lovely meeting you as well” The two boys said at the same time, turning to walk away.

You caught up with Y/N best friend, and settled in at the grandstands to watch the drivers gear up for the sprint.

As the day wore on, you pulled out your phone to kill some time, opening Instagram. Two new follower notifications alerted immediately.

Followed by landonorris and carlossainz55

Ignoring the alerts you continued to scroll through your feed until the cars began lining up for the sprint. Pierre hadn’t made it past Q2 earlier, so you knew he was in for a fight today.

The sprint passed quickly, and while the race didn’t go well for Pierre, it definitely could’ve gone worse. You and Y/N best friend made your way out of the paddock and into the waiting car.

As you returned to the hotel, the two of you settled into your room.

“Where did you disappear to before the sprint?” Y/N Best Friend asked.

“Oh I actually met Carlos and Lando” You replied.

“Carlos and Lando?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Yes, Carlos and Lando.”

“They’re definitely not hard on the eyes. And their both single. Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” She asked.

“I already told you, I don’t think it’s worth it to get with a driver. You know what they’re like”

“Trust me, I really do.” She muttered under her breath.

—— Meanwhile ——

Lance made his way into the dimly lit restaurant. The team had a standing tradition of holding a team dinner the night before a race. As he took his seat next to Fernando, the waiter poured him a glass of water.

“Man, I’m starting to wonder if I’m doing something wrong. Maybe I need to find a girl to watch me during the races.” Fernando said, scrolling through his phone.

“What are you on about?” Lance replied.

“Look. I’m just saying, maybe races would be more fun if I knew a pretty girl like that was waiting on me.” He said, showing Lance his phone.

On the screen was a post from an account called f1wagupdates. A series of photos were include, one of which showed a pretty brunette woman, standing between Carlos Sainz and Lando Norris. The two men were staring at her, large smiles on their faces. You recognized the women almost instantly, she was the girl who’d run into you at media day.

“I didn’t know either of them was seeing anyone?” Lance asked.

“The caption doesn’t specify. It just says “New WAG alert? Who is the mystery women hanging out with Sainz and Norris? She was spotted with Pierre Gasly’s girlfriend Y/N Best Friend on Thursday. Stay tuned for more updates.”

“I met her on Thursday.” Lance replied.

“You did? Is she as hot in person?” Fernando asked.

“Yeah. I’m not sure if she was with Sainz or Norris. Whoever it was isn’t exactly winning boyfriend of the year though. She was wandering around hospitality looking for the media tent before my interview. What kind of guy ditches his girl like that?”

“Who knows. Maybe they’re not together? If you know what I mean.” Fernando replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah maybe.”

Lance spent the rest of the dinner thinking about what Fernando said earlier. It would be nice to have someone waiting on him in the paddock, cheering him on after every round, walking with him to media, etc. Someone who’s support was unconditional, and didn’t care how he compared to Fernando or the other drivers.

————————————————————————

A/N: Race day is coming next

[sneakyblinders]

your mother, the enchantress.

A/N: ok this is the cute idea I had about Tommy and his babies. Not gonna lie got kinda emotional writing it. it's so fluffy lol warnings: not canon, fluff. major fluff. like tooth rotting fluff. a part of my tommy and his darling wife au. enjoy &lt;3 also im a huge fan of a good slowed down & verbed song and i think taylor swifts enchanted goes pretty good with this. I take no credit for the gif, I just think this is how he would look during Peter's speech. <3

You had finally finished a phone conversation with your mother. A long, arduous conversation about how vitally important getting the right tutor for Peter was. You, of course, understood the levity of Peter receiving an education, and after much discussion between you and your husband, you'd had to relent and let your husband have his way: the children would be educated at home by a private tutor. Peter was five, and Katherine had just turned two. Thomas had interviewed several more than qualified candidates for the position, but none seemed to suit your husbands unreasonably high standards. "Thomas, love," you'd tried talking to him one evening. "No one will be perfect--" He cut you off. "We need to get as close to perfect as we can, my Darling. He needs the finest education." You roll your eyes. "Which he would get if he were to go to a private school. You could have twenty-four hour protection there if you wanted." He ground his teeth together, jaw locked tight. "My decision is final." And that had been that.

When you exited the home office and found the halls oddly quiet, you assumed that Thomas had let Frances go to bed, and you remembered that Sara had asked for the evening off. You walked down the hallway towards the faint sound of voices in the library. You could hear Katherine and Peter giggling, and you had to wonder what they could be giggling about. Your mind rushed to they had gotten into something while Tommy had his back turned for a minute, but when you pushed the door to the library open slightly, you were pleasantly surprised with what you saw.

Thomas was seated on the floor with the children, his legs crossed, in just his undershirt and suit pants, suspenders hanging down to his waist, dress shirt folded neatly over the back of the sofa. He had a deck of cards in front of them, and they were selecting random cards from the deck. Thomas would close his eyes as they plucked cards from the deck, holding them in their small hands, giggling as Tommy raised his eyebrows, eyes still shut. "Daddy, what card do I have?" Peter asked. Tommy made a contemplative face before saying, "Mm, it's a three of hearts," and Peter let out a little shriek. "He's magic, Katherine!" Peter laughed, showing the two of them his card, which was a three of hearts. Thomas repeated this trick with Katherine, who asked for her brothers help in knowing how many spades were on her card. And your husband correctly guessed again, an eight of spades. "Okay, okay, children," Tommy said, pulling them both by the legs close to him, as they giggled, their bottoms dragging on the carpet. "Let me tell you a story, about a witch!" they giggled as he pulled them into his sides. He positioned them facing the fireplace, their backs against the bottom of the sofa, curling into their father. Your heart began to melt in your chest as he began telling them a fairytale about a witch who cast a spell on an unknowing peasant boy, and they fell in love. "Ew, love!" Peter wrinkled his nose. "Aah, my boy," Tommy said, "One day you will love love, as I do." he said, pressing a kiss to the top of your sons head. "Like you love mother?" Peter said, ice blue eyes looking up at his father. "Yes," Tommy said, a soft smile on his face. "Like I love mother." You leaned against the door slightly, causing it to creak open, their attention shifting to your position in the doorway. "Mama!" Katherine said, eyes lighting up despite her sleepiness. You blushed under Tommy's loving gaze. "Hi, sweet pea," you coo, walking towards where they sat on the floor. "You're sleepy, hm?" you asked her, sitting next to them in front of the fire. "Can we sleep with you tonight, Mama?" Katherine asked, her dark eyes looking up at you. You glance at Tommy for a minute, who shoots you a look. He loved his children more than life, but loathed when they slept in bed with the two of you. They slept in such precarious positions, and he felt as though he couldn't move all night for fear of waking them. And they always slept in the middle of you two, which didn't allow him the opportunity to pull you close whenever he wanted. "Not tonight, lovebug," you tell her, as she shuffles over to you, sitting in your lap, head against your chest. "Maybe we can all have a cuddle in the morning, hm?" "Okay." her little voice said, dejected. You shoot your husband a pitiful look, to which he shakes his head softly, a smile playing on his lips. "Alright, shall we take you off to bed?" you ask. "I'll put Peter to bed," Tommy tells you, as your son begins to doze off, head in his fathers lap, warm from the fire.

You take Katherine up the steps to her bedroom. You'd just had it painted a light yellow color, making the room sunny day or night. You helped her out of her dress and shoes and into her nightgown. She had just begun sleeping in her "big girl bed", and was very proud of herself for sleeping all through the night the last few nights without waking you or Sara due to being scared. You had tucked her in and were reaching for her favorite stuffed toy, a little stuffed horse Tommy had gotten her for her first birthday. She'd carried it with her everywhere since, and she couldn't sleep without it now. "Goodnight, horsey," you said softly, tucking the stuffed toy in with her, under her arm. "Goodnight, sweet girl," you tell her, kissing her forehead. "'Night 'night, Mama." she said breathily, eyes fluttering closed. You switched off the lights in her room before closing the door softly and padding down the hallway to your room, where Tommy was waiting for you.

He sat in the chair by the window, smoking, eyeing the horses in the fields on the side of the house. You came up alongside him, a hand on his shoulder. "Hello, my love." he said, voice deep with fatigue. "Hello, handsome," you tell him, reaching down and pressing a kiss to his temple. He smiles slightly, turning towards you. He holds his arms open, a signal for you to sit with him. You sit on his lap and his arms circle around you. He breathes deeply, he's happy. "You're such a good father," you tell him, nuzzling your face in his neck, pressing a kiss where your lips land. He sighed. "I try, my love." Fatherhood had not come naturally to Tommy, much to his dismay. He admired how you had taken to being a mother, and tried to mimic your behaviors with the children. Sometimes he succeed, but most times he struggled. Struggled with staving off his selfishness, his need to have things his way or no way. Struggled to be patient with his children, who were still learning how to express themselves and learning how to process emotion. He wanted his children to have better than he did, and already they had much better circumstances than he and his siblings did when they were his age. They had parents who were crazy about one another, a beautiful home, food on the table and clothes on their backs. Anything they wanted, he would go to the ends of the earth to get. But he wanted to be there. And with his work, it was often difficult to be there. He knew Polly did the best she could with five children to raise, none of them being her own, and he was forever grateful for her and her sacrifices she made, but he knew that nothing would ever replace the presence of the parent. "Your story tonight was lovely," you tell him, smiling against his neck as he rubbed soothing circles into your back. "It was a true story," he said, stubbing his cigarette out. "Oh?" you ask, sitting up and looking at him. "Our children don't know their mother is an enchantress," he said, a naughty smile crossing his features. "A witch," he whispered, cupping the back of your neck with his hands, moving your face close to his. "Who put her love spell on me," he smiled, pressing a kiss to your lips. "Made me fall so desperately in love with her," he breathed, kissing you again. "Why me, I'll never know." You smile at him, tears in your eyes. "Thomas Shelby," you breathe. "I love you." He smiled softly, his eyes heavy with sleep and love. "I love you," he stands up, carrying you in his arms to the bed. "Madly," he kisses your neck. "Desperately," your collarbones. "Irrevocably," the tops of your breasts. "Besotted," he tugs at the neckline of your dress. "With you, my love."

1950

It was Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Shelby's thirtieth wedding anniversary party. A grand affair for everyone involved. Tommy held his brides hand under the table, looking out at his family. This family that they had created. Their eldest son, Peter, and his wife, Sophie sat with their first two grandsons, Oliver and Thomas, a namesake. Kate sat with her fiancé, Isabel and William sat near their nephews, entertaining them with crayons and paper. And Claire and Anthony sat with their friends who they were allowed to invite, in hopes they would sit still for dinner at least before the dancing began. His heart swelled with pride.

Peter stood up, walking to the front of the ballroom they had rented for the occasion, standing in front of the microphone. He cleared his throat. "If I could have everyone's attention for a moment, please," he said, the ballroom falling quiet except for the sound of silverware on plates. "I told my mother I wouldn't make her cry, but I can't really keep my promise on this one, Mother," he smiles at his mother, who already looks at him with tears in her eyes. "Father, don't hurt me for making mother cry," Peter jokes, and Tommy laughs, squeezing his brides hand, beaming proudly at his eldest son. The crowd chuckled, all knowing the repercussions of making Mrs. Shelby upset. "When I was five, I remember my father telling Kate and I a story of a witch who put a spell on a poor peasant boy," Peters mother closes her eyes, reliving that memory from so long ago in her minds eye. "And they fell madly in love from that spell," he took a breath. "At the time I thought it was gross, the idea of love, the idea of this feeling that overtakes every part of you. My father told me one day I would love, love as much as he does. And it wasn't until I was older that I realized it was a retelling of their love story," the audience let out a unanimous, "aw", making Tommy blush and his wife laugh, shaking her head. "But, what I came up here to thank my parents for, more than anything they've done for all of us," he paused, looking at his parents. "Is showing us the power of love. The power of having that sort of soul-shattering love on your side through all of life's valleys and peaks. I've seen my parents, throughout my twenty-eight years of life, pull each other from the valleys and love the other back to life. They have instilled in all of their children the power of marrying for love, over honor and duty," he smiles at his siblings. "And allowing that love to be the driving force of all they do. They have led their family for thirty years with love and respect, honor, and excellence, and for their example of irrevocable and unending love, I am forever in their debt. Happy anniversary, you lovesick fools!" Peter said, raising his champagne flute in a toast to his parents, who were both teary eyed at the head of their table. "We love you, Mom and Dad."

And through his life, that moment, that night, was the second night in Thomas' life that he truly felt an overwhelming feeling of, I did the right thing with my life. Coming in second only to the day his life changed forever, when he married the love of his life.

[player1064]

jan 2019 pleak 🙏

WIP asks but it's just the various sections of my happy (???) beville (/angsty carraville) WIP

---

January, 2019.

“Ugh, Carragher invited me to his birthday party.”

David looks up at Gary over his glasses, does a pretend gasp. “Your friend invited you to a party? Someone call the fuckin’ press, this sounds like the start of a national crisis.”

“Oh shush, you. D'you think I actually 'ave to go?"

"He's turning forty, ain't he? That's a big'un."

Gary hates parties. He hates Liverpool. He hates parties in Liverpool, or he will once he's actually attended one.

He remembers the Carragher convoy at international tournaments, knows they'll be out 'til the early hours of the next morning, which means that he'll have to be out 'til the early hours because he's never in his life left a party early and he's not about to start now. Which means that he won't be able to drive home at the end, which means that he'll have to stay in Liverpool overnight, and this is sounding worse and worse by the second.

"Don't suppose you fancy comin' along too?" he asks David, because why should he have to suffer alone?

David, because he is much more of a miserable bastard than people give him credit for, hums and says "can't, I'll be in London."

"I've not told you when it is yet, you twat."

"Whenever it is, I guarantee there will be very urgent business I need to attend to. In London."

"You're not very nice."

"Oi! I am delightful."

*

Just close friends and family, Jamie had said.

Gary's yet to see anyone at this fucking party that's not related to Jamie somehow. He's not sure what Jamie would qualify as a 'close friend', but it can't be too tight a group if he counts Gary among them. He'd been expecting to see Stevie, at least. Jamie's an antisocial prick who tends to rub people the wrong way but Stevie's managed to stick it out all these years, and Glasgow's not that far away.

But two hours in and there's nobody else from football there.

He'd chatted to Jamie's dad for a while, reminisced about Big Nev - a unifying power if ever there was one. Gary's not sure he's ever met someone that knew his father who hadn't loved him. He's caught up with Nicola, entertained Jamie's kids - or tried to, as much as you can with two spoilt unimpressed teenagers.

He's starting to run out of ways to pass the time, and the party's still going strong.

There's not been much opportunity to speak to Jamie, not properly. Not that he's got much to say - he'd seen him at work just a couple of days ago, and they text pretty much every day anyway. And it's not like he's brought him a present, or even a card, so he doesn't actually have a reason to pull him away from his friends.

The more he drinks, the harder it gets to parse the Scouse screeches of the other guests into recognisable words, so he grabs a can of coke and goes to hide in the bathroom for a bit, decompress.

He's checking his emails - because it's midnight on a Saturday, why wouldn't he be checking his emails? - when the door swings open, startling him. Jamie stumbles in, flushed from drinking, and when his eyes land on Gary his whole face splits into a grin.

"Gaz!" he cheers, much too loud for such a confined space. "Was wonderin' where you'd got to, I'd been startin' to think you'd flaked out on me."

Gary shrugs. "Never, Carra, you know me. Just needed a time out."

"Ah," Jamie says, nodding sagely. "Were you getting' all - " he waves his hands around his head, as if that's explanation enough. "Wassit called, again? Senses… sensory overload, innit?"

"You been talkin' to Becks?" Gary asks suspiciously, because he's the only person he can think of that uses all those weird therapy words in casual conversation. Always, at big parties, squeezing Gary's hand and saying I know it's loud, Gaz, I know it's too much. Just keep your focus on me.

"Why the fuck would I wanna talk to 'im," Jamie scoffs, and Gary feels his heart rate pick up.

Just keep your focus on me.

He thinks… he thinks there must be something wrong with him, he must've had more to drink than he thought, because -

Because he's looking at Jamie, and he finds he doesn't want to think about Becks at all. He almost wishes - and it's crazy, there has to be something wrong with him - he almost wishes there was no Becks to think about.

Jamie's looking back at him with those piercing grey eyes, and Gary's clenches his hands at his sides before they go and do something stupid like reach out to him.

He clears his throat. "Enjoyin' your party?"

The scowl fades from Jamie's face into something softer. "Yeah," he says, nodding vigorously, "it's sound."

*

It's still dark when David is woken by Gary bustling around the bedroom, but it's the middle of winter and they have blackout blinds so really it could be any time at all. He grabs his phone to glance at the time - it's not quite 6am yet, much too early for him to be waking up. Much too late for Gary to be coming to bed.

Gary comes over and pats his hair clumsily, says "sorry, Becks, din't mean to wake you. I'll go to spare room."

David's eyes are too heavy to roll them at Gary, but he huffs an exasperated sigh and wordlessly lifts up the covers for Gary to climb in next to him.

Gary climbs into bed fully clothed and immediately snuggles up to David, the way he'd never admit to liking when he's sober. He bunches his hands in the fabric of David's t-shirt and rests his head on his chest, his breath smelling like sweet wine.

"Thought you were staying over in Liverpool?" David mumbles into Gary's hair.

"Called a cab," Gary replies vaguely. "Was missin' you."

"'s only been a few hours, weirdo."

Gary whines unhappily, so he adds "I missed you too. Will you let me get back to sleep now?"

[chuuyascumsock]

Helloooo

That rat reaction pic was both adorable and had me laughing my ass offf(my sense of humor is lowkey highkey kinda broken so apologies 😭)

ALSO

ME??? A MONSTERFUCKER??????HUH?? THAT SOUNDS DEPLORABLE! But youre right so anyway- (kinda actually saw a monsterfucker bingo and did it{yknow just for funsies and shi} and like i ticked off 10 of the 24 boxes? i mean i think thats enough to qualify??? Right??)

okie soo umm i kinda waited too long to type out the thoughts and they um *disssipated* so immm kinda gonna string together the crumbs i still remember🥲

(Also like to clarify when i say werewolf,i kinda mean like the something between like that one halloween official art and atsushi when he’s in his weretiger form?)

Imagine werewolf chuuya who just cant keep his hands off you when he’s in heat,he just NEEDS you,CARNALLY

While you’re cooking dinner he’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around you,nuzzling his head into the crook of your neck,lightly nibbling on your skin and just slightly grinding his crotch into your ass.

After a while you can feel his hard on and how hes desperately trying to hold himself back.

so you do the only sensible thing you can think of~

You turn around and kiss him~

You have no idea how it escalated from a passionate kiss to this,but now he has you bent over the kitchen island,your underwear discarded and forgotten while he frees his hard cock from his now-tight pants.he coats his dick in lube and precum before he thrusts into your rear,(although he’d love to go right at it,he knows your only human and would never want to hurt you) going at an inhuman speed and illicitting the most lewd little sounds for you~

His claws sinking into your hips to hold you in one place,all the while he’s letting out breathy “good girl/boy” and “that’s it take it hnghh you take me so good doll” s as he ruts into your ass.as he feels his climax nearing he goes harder and deeper his throbbing cock continuously hitting your g-spot causing you you whine and moan out loud,all which makes him go harder,the feeling of your tight little hole driving him over the edge and when he finally comes its thick sticky and he doesn’t let a single drop seep out.he continues rutting into you,fuckin his come back into you while keeping you locked in a mating press.after around two to three more rounds(now having moved to the bedroom) he slows down and makes sure your okay.he loves to see the fucked out look on your face as he cleans you up and as he sees your silly little hole white and glazy with his come he has to resist the urge to plug you up and let you stay that way until your next session,but if youve previously said your okay with it he’s definitely gonna do it-

Once your tucked in all nice clean (and *cough*plugged up) he gets into bed as well spooning you and lightly licking the bites and hickey now covering your neck and collarbone.

(I wanna add some more but i think this is already long enough.i hope this makes sense and sounds coherent at least,i think i got a little lost in the sauce🥲)

Also yess i saw that voyeurism tag👀👀👀 (got me wet just thinking about it🫣)

Ooh and also of smut,fluff,angst and crack,What’s your favorite??

And bestie(am i allowed to call you that?) im like 99.99% your irl personality is just as great as your online one🙄🤚

That isnt debatable btw🫶

I speak facts not fiction 😌

Well except for the smut,that’s fictional-

ACTUALLY NO FRICK IT THATS FACTS TOO!🙌

And to end this silly,goofy and unreasonably long ask id just like to wish you a lovely day/afternoon/evening/night filled with snackies,dopamine-inducing events and a lot of,as you said, H2hoe!

Stay safe and slay safe😌💅🏻

(Help its 4.50 am😭🥲)

-🧀

YOU DID, YOU DID GET LOST IN THE SAUCE, YOU WERE DROWNING IN IT 😭 BUT IT WAS GOOD SAUCE, DELICIOUS SAUCE EVEN. (Fr made me choke on my mango and everything while reading).

Glad you specified that you didn’t mean Chuuya like full furry mode or that would’ve been awky 💀

Literally Chuuya— but THAT WAS SO GOOD ACTUALLY. I can’t believe you wrote almost a full smutshot in my inbox, you should rlly write this down and post your own smut LMAO.

I forgot to add something to my Detective Chuuya summary, but it’s ok, I fixed it 🤭

My favorite genre is crack, I feel like I write top tier crack ngl, my Ai chats also look insane with all the silly stuff I do with the characters (literally mostly Dazai bc I kin him so doing platonically silly shit w/ him is my comfort).

AND YES YOU CAN CALL ME BESTIE— I feel like we’re definitely past that 😈 But I will have to deny my irl personality being just as good as my online one because I am socially inept 🥰

ALSO GET SOME SLEEP BESTIE CAUSE THAT’S SUPER IMPORTANT (I’m a hypocrite). BUT EAT A GOOD BREAKFAST AND FUCK UP THOSE CLASSES 💪😼

[aroaceconfessions]

I just started college (at a private school on a shit ton of scholarships and still taking out loans which has led to some really awkward assumptions about my economic situation that kind of just make everything worse) and I had no damn clue that I was so lucky with my friend group in highschool. I went to this support group and made most of my friends that way bc my dads an alcoholic and basically met my platonic soulmate (as sketch as that term is in the aroace community, it feels right with her) but we went to colleges a few hours apart and haven’t been around eachother as of late

Now that I’m at college, I decided to room on a lgbt friendly floor (gender neutral bathrooms, coed rooms, lgbt floor programs, easier access to lgbt support, etc) because it sounded like the perfect way to find and become friends with the queer community on campus. But I think I made a really big mistake.

Being a woman (loosely, but I present that way) on the floor, people just assume I’m a lesbian or at least bi/pan. And people, as they have always done, constantly talk about relationships and sex. Every second of every day. I’m sorta used to it. I’m also autistic so they are used to some stuff going over my head or me simply not reacting, they just don’t know that with the sex jokes it’s not that I don’t get it, it’s that I don’t find it funny. But sometimes I chime in, just to banter and make sure people like me (as sad as that is) and they’ll inevitably say something along the lines of “oh well you’re gay” as in to imply I’m not into men. But they literally forget I’m also not into women or nb people or anyone. I’d like to say I have no problem with the umbrella term gay to refer to the lgbt community, actually I almost did. But I do have a problem with it. I’m not gay. I’m not into anyone. I don’t like sex. I don’t want sex. I’m never going to want sex. Or dating for that matter! I’m out as aroace. All my friends know. And yet they completely erase my identity in everyday speech as if nothing is even happening. It’s so alienating!

I want to assume the best of them. I want to hope that in their minds what they mean is that I’m queer. Im pet of the lgbt+ community. But I know it’s not true. What they mean is “oh well she doesn’t like men so it makes sense that she doesn’t really like the dick jokes and whatnot, so I’ll qualify our conversation and make sure she knows I remember so she doesn’t feel bad for not getting the straight or gay(mlm) sex jokes.” They do not mean “oh yeah she doesn’t like sex, allow me to toss it into conversation so she feels more comfortable and seen,” because if that was what they meant, they’d say “oh well you’re ace.”

They just fucking assume that everyone ESPECIALLY on an lgbt floor is constantly thinking of sex and dating because they can’t possibly conceive another reason someone would live on the lgbt floor. They may remember trans and nb students exist, but in the end they ALSO assume those students are looking for easier access to accepting people in order to find a partner who’s okay with dating a trans or nb individual.

And yet I’m right here.

[cxsmiicc]

a friend of mine the other day said that he didn't see editing as a real hobby because it had no deeper meaning. everything im about to say in this post i said to his face on this day. now this dude is like. classic snobby english student. turns his nose up at any book that isn't written in such a way that it takes a week to read. genuinely enjoys poetry and is forever trying to get me to like it too (i violently hate poetry, just not my thing no hate if u like it). we somehow got onto the topic of hobbies and i was talking about how i had a fair few, and i started listing some off of the top of my head. the few i mentioned were editing, writing, reading and crocheting. he offhandedly says that he doesn't think editing is a real hobby because it has no deeper meaning and the look i gave to this boy could have levelled cities. first and foremost, editors. work. fucking. hard. it is not easy to find clips, find audios, and put them all together to make something cohesive. shit takes hours every time. i have cried over edits countless times. i've seen people cry over my edits before and it feels amazing (sounds odd i know but you get it). my next point, a hobby BY DEFINITION is something you do for fun. to relax. to enjoy yourself. not in pursuit of some deep life lesson. hobbies are hobbies because they are something you do for enjoyment, in pursuit of some peace of fucking mind. my edits lately?? mostly lanfear, with a hot audio, and minimal transitions. and what do they mean? that i think she's hot. i still made it. that edit didn't spring fully formed from the void. time and effort went into it. editing is a real hobby, a real career if you're good enough, and an edit can have as deep a meaning as any novel or any song, or be as shallow as a fucking teaspoon. and someone still made it. someone still found the song, marked the beats, cut the clips, added their effects and transitions and colouring and watermark. just as a book can be self indulgent, so can an edit. obviously the two are different, and people can and will argue themselves blue about which is better, film or literature, the old versus the new. but for fucks sake don't be like him. he knows exactly how much time i spend on my edits, how much i agonise over the smallest details. it hurt when he said that so casually. he just threw a year of my life away, saying it doesn't qualify as a pastime because it doesn't teach me anything. okay. can he use after effects with the skill that i can? no. he didn't even know what an mp4 was until i explained this morning. having practical skills can only be an advantage. plus ofc doing anything for a long period of time will teach you these deep philosophical lessons he's oh so fond of. i met my favourite person in the world through editing. she's the reason i started my current editing account. ly babe if ur reading this. posting edits and being an active part of a niche fandom is also incredible for getting better at interacting with people. both the comments on my posts and the comments i leave on other peoples edits are so so supportive and sweet, and yeah. im losing steam with this post so imma leave it here bcs its 2:30am and i am most definitely rambling.

sorry for a long post but this is important to me and every other editor who has had people laugh when they mention what they do for fun

[espectres]

do u ever see a page that just has SO MUCH GOING ON CUZ

"chill" CHILL!!! has anyone ever told Ritsu to just chill ??? cuz he omg, he truly desperately needed to hear that, especially with how easily he slipped into his vaguely sinister "no one understands me" attitude whenever someone mentioned Shigeo??? and this time is no exception except now he has someone to just tell him OFF!!!!

we see a lot of ppl cowering under Ritsu's standard brooding terrifying 13 y/o nature but SHOU IS NOT HAVING IT IN THE SLIGHTEST LMAO, very ready to take this emo boy DOWN all brutal & well-meant <3

the fact that Shou specifically says that it makes Ritsu feel MORE inferior??? Implies that Shou is already AWARE of Ritsu's ever present inferiority complex despite being around him for like half a day!!! And he's already taking it for fucking read and acting on it and calling it out like he sees it and ACCEPTS IT !!! Shou sees shit Shou points out shit.

That one panel with their auras, god it'd have been so pretty had it been animated, their auras just flaring around them in a colorful haze in the middle of a cinematic void of black, a moment of silence for this lost opportunity.

SHOU YELLING AT RITSU!!! TO STFU!!!!! You're Shou's new friend and Shou is so freaking confidant about everything he's doing and that meams if he thinks you're talented and strong and smart then he's qualified to confirm you're just talented and strong and smart and you are in fact just that!!!!!!!!!

the fact that all of Shou's relentless brutal and undaunted confidence stims from the URGENCY OF BELIEVING HE CAN DO THIS. HE CAN BEAT HIS DAD. And if he is not confident enough then how on earth is he supposed to fight the fear that eats him on the inside???? Shou's fucking terrified and he's making a scene to hide it, always has been.

He also refuses to let someone who reminds him so much of himself and his struggles like Ritsu be left in the darkness of inferiority and fear that Shpu himself has been experiencing, it doesn't matter to him if he just straught up fucking lies, Ritsu should stop saying he's weak and should stop talking about his OH SOOO STRONG OLDER BROTHER cuz to him Shigeo is a fucking wimp and Ritsu should stfu about him!!!!!!!!!! ( up until that point at least lmao ) Like my guy is so confident it breaks my heart. im gonna cry.

The way Shou goes about phrasing things is so simple and childish, "else your life would suck" ? "trouble-maker of a dad" ? That's a life full of trauma and violence and that's his terrorist father who practically mass murdered too many to count. I can't do this. He's so 13 years old.

He mentions freeing everyone cuz he's acknowledging the presence of his lackeys, people who want Claw to be done & destroyed but never got enough strength to do anything, people who want out but you can't just walk out from an organization like Claw without having your life in danger, he mentions freeing everyone because he is aware of the kidnapped kids and brainwashed people, he wants to free everyone and himself too, becuz really he just wants a normal simple life where he could call his mother and not lie to her face about his dad turning into a psychopathic terrorist.

Something I like is how Shou's lackeys don't really serve a big purpose when it comes to battles and plot and things like that, yes they helped with the pacing of action when Minegishi showed up but that is so minor it's barely there. The sole purpose of Shou having lackeys is to demonstrate how much of a responsible and capable person he is, how he proved himself so much that adults saw enough good reason to put their faith and power in the hands of a 13 y/o, Shou is such a ruthlessly honest unashamedly intense ball of enthusiasm and confidence, and he makes such a good leader and supporting friend throughout the most bizarre spontaneous plan you could ever see, which btw made so much sense it just sounds weird out of context, but that's for another post.

[pacifymebby]

do you have any advice for getting back into work after taking some time off to deal with mental health stuff? I'm kinda nervous that when it comes to interviews I'm going to get asked about the gap in my CV

Ugh this is a tricky one because its not something I've ever had to do (but i should probably start thinking about it because i may well have to do it soon ha ha)

I think that it depends which country youre in and what protections there are for mental health. For example, in the uk there are protections, mental health issues a protected characteristic so you can't legally be discriminated against for them. However workplaces find ways to get around that all the time so idk.

If it were me I'd try to put a positive spin on it during interviews. You can talk about how you have a good understanding of your mental health, that you've done a lot of learning about it, developed lots of coping mechanisms and that you're good at knowing what you are capable of at a time, and what you might struggle with. Knowing when to take a break or when to rest is actually an incredibly important skill and one that is vital to the workplace.

I honestly think that its worse when u have a team member who is clearly sick/burnt out, carrying on and refusing help or refusing to rest, than it is to have someone who calls in sick... Because the person "trooping" on is risking making serious mistakes with potentially dangerous consequences, they could be making the job harder for other members of staff who have to kind of pick up their slack if you know what i mean? I feel like these things sound awful to say but they are, from a business perspective, true. When you have a martyr in a team they often cause the rest of the team unnecessary stress. Sometimes its better for everyone if a person who is seriously unwell takes time off to get better.

But if u were gonna say that in an interview probably try to make it sound less evil first.

The important thing i think to focus on is talking about like, what you did with that time off... Even if all u did was rest, you should tell them that you used the time off to get to know yourself better, to learn about mental health, to develop healthy coping mechanisms which work for you. That having used the time to develop you feel you're a better person for it, you're wiser and more balanced etc, that you now have the skills you need to manage your mental health safely and consistently.

Like you're basically saying "i didnt just skyve off i persued self betterment?" (which honestly i personally believe if someone whos taking time off for health is doing like just resting and self care etc, i dont think that's a bad thing but non empathetic people dont understand that idk)

I hope that helps. I have to say im not feeling particularly great about my ability to give advice today since i received a rejection for the job i really wanted today. So idk im that qualified to give this but i tried haha

[mental-health-advice]

I've started to confront my mother about abusive behaviors and it has unfortunately made things a lot worse for me because it's started to make me realize that she's actually just not a good or kind person. And so I don't know how I could ever even make her understand or change her behavior and treatment of me because you just make somebody care about others. Or, at least, i definitely don't know how to and I need to take care of myself and heal first. Unfortunately, I don't know how i can while still living under her roof and relying on her because I'm too mentally and physically unhealthy to work or even leave the house most days. If you sever ties, I lose her help. If I engage, I get hurt. I'm feeling kind of stuck. I guess I'm looking for help or tips to just get out of the situation as an adult. I can't move in with any family or friends. I am about to start therapy and may be able to get disability benefits but even if i qualify, im not sure it's possible to live independently like that. And whether can take care of myself while living independently is definitely a big question but going and trying is better than living here. Thank you in advance for and help or tips or condolences at all, I think what you guys do here is great. <3

Hey there,

This is a really difficult situation to be in because as you mentioned your damned if you do and damned if you don’t to put it simply.

I think it’s a really positive step that you are starting therapy and I will cross my fingers that you do qualify and get disability benefits (which I am sure you will) and the fact that you have a plan and have been thinking about at least moving out of your home and living independently is a great step as well. In terms of if you will be able to live independently or not, you may have places where you can live in supported accommodation or have if you do live independently then have someone come over daily to help you with daily tasks. So, this is something to definitely look into when you get a chance!

In regards to your Mum, I cannot imagine how hard it must be for you to be living at home with her. It sounds as though you are wanting to try to work things out with your Mum and her abusive ways but that there have been some repercussions in doing so. I think in this instance, like you mentioned it is best to first look after yourself, try to heal and make sure you are in a good place before trying to work things out and confront her. The last thing we want is for you to try to work through all the abuse issues that have arisen in the past with your Mum when you are not going great yourself only to have you regress further backwards if that makes sense?

I am not exactly sure how you might confront your Mum when you are ready to do so but maybe a good starting point may be to write her a letter if you feel comfortable doing so. This may take the pressure off of you a bit and will leave the ball in your Mums hands with how she then responds to you and what you have to say. Writing a letter will also enable you to get out what you need to say but in a nice-ish way that won’t be attacking your Mum as such even though it may feel like you really want to right now.

I really hope that this has helped a bit and that you are able to start therapy sooner rather than later or that at the very least you can apply for disability benefits before starting. If you see your local doctor or GP then they may be able to get the ball rolling!

I’m thinking of you, hope you are doing OK and please do let us know if we can help to support you in any other way!

Take care,

Lauren