#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

[snowysosturn]

Speeding Car - Matt Sturniolo Part 21

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29

Pairing : y/n x Matt Sturniolo

Summary : After six years with your boyfriend Alex, you start to mentally check out. At a UCLA party, Alex reconnects with his childhood friend Emily, who proposes a double date with her boyfriend Matt. Your attraction to Matt grows as he pays you the first real attention you've had in years, sparking a complicated emotional journey.

Warnings : THESE WARNINGS WILL GIVE SPOILERS!!!! MDNI, angst, tension, anxiety, mentions of car accident/reader in accident, aftermath of accident, trauma as a result of accident, memory loss, mentions of cheating

Finally get to tell you where the inspo for this fic came from now that it won’t give away any spoilers. (all my Irish girlies stand up 🫡) I’d fully forgotten about this song this song until July, and when I listened to it it sparked the little ideas for me, and that’s how I came up with the main plot <3 I've been going through a break up (which was nearly a 10 year relationship) during the time of writing this so ive poured my heart and souuuuul into this ( i also want to note no themes of the story relate to me maybe only mentally clocking out bc of a bare minimum bf, do not fucking cheat on anyone) . this fic has been my baby and im so thankful to anyone who has read so far <3 p.s if you ever go back and reread this you’ll notice the little pieces of lyrics here and there lol

The world came back to me in fragments - blurred lights, muffled sounds, and an overwhelming sense of disorientation. As I fluttered my eyes open, the harsh brightness of the room made me wince. My head pounded with a dull ache, and my body felt heavy, as if it wasn’t quite mine.

I slowly turned my head to the right, trying to take in my surroundings, and there he was. The man I loved, sitting by my bedside. His face was a mixture of relief and something else, fear, maybe? His eyes met mine, and I felt a flicker of familiarity in the chaos of my mind.

“Alex..” I whispered, my voice weak and strained.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. Try not to move too much,” Alex said softly, his hand reaching up to gently stroke my face. His touch was warm, comforting, but something about the way he looked at me sent a ripple of unease through my chest.

“What happened?” I asked, my voice barely audible, as panic started to rise within me. My thoughts were jumbled, trying to piece together how I ended up here. The last thing I remembered was.. was.. I couldn’t even grasp it.

“You got into an accident” Alex explained, his voice steady, but I could see the worry etched into his features. “But you’re going to be okay. You just need to rest.”

An accident? My mind raced, and instinctively, I tried to move, only to be met with sharp pain that made me gasp. “What about my injuries? When can I skate again? I have qualifiers for the Olympics soon!” The words tumbled out of my mouth in a frantic rush, driven by a fear that I couldn’t quite place.

Alex’s face twisted in confusion, and he hesitated before answering. “Y/n.. you haven’t skated in years.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut. I stared at him, my heart pounding in my chest, refusing to believe what he was saying. “What? No.. that’s not true. I.. I’ve been training. You know that.” My voice quivered with desperation.

Alex exchanged a worried glance with the nurse, then looked back at me, his expression pained. “Y/n, You stopped skating when I was a freshman.. I’m a junior now..”

His words echoed in my head, but they didn’t make any sense. UCLA? Sophomore year? It was as if he was speaking a different language. The last memory I had was waiting anxiously to see if he made the Bruins team, both of us so excited about the possibility of him making it big with football.

“No… no, that’s not right,” I muttered, shaking my head as if it would somehow clear the fog that clouded my thoughts. “Did you get onto the Bruins team?” I asked, clinging to the one thing that made sense to me.

“Y/n..” Alex’s voice was gentle, but it carried the weight of the truth I wasn’t ready to accept. 

The room spun around me, and I felt like I was being thrown into a different universe. Everything was wrong, nothing made sense. My heart raced, my breathing quickened, and I felt like I was drowning in confusion.

The female nurse stepped forward, her expression calm and professional. “Alex, could I speak with you outside for a moment?” she asked, her tone leaving no room for argument.

Alex squeezed my hand one last time before letting go, his eyes lingering on mine with a look that made my chest tighten. He nodded and followed the nurse out of the room, leaving me alone with the student nurse who had been quietly observing from the side.

I turned my head slightly to look at him, trying to ground myself in something familiar, something stable. “Can someone tell me how long I’ll have to be in here for?” I asked, my voice trembling.

The boy hesitated, looking a bit uncertain. “I’m not too sure, Y/n. We’ll have to wait for one of the staff to give us results first” he said, trying to sound reassuring as he reached out and cupped my hand with his two.

His gesture was kind, but it only added to my confusion. Why was he holding my hand like that? Was he one of those compassionate doctors who went the extra mile for their patients? My mind struggled to make sense of his actions.

“Can’t you ask someone since you work here?” I asked, hoping for some clarity.

He blinked at me, clearly taken aback. “Work here?”

Before I could respond, the door creaked open, and the female nurse re-entered the room, followed by Alex. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of something unspoken. The nurse’s eyes met mine, and I could see the concern etched into her features.

“Ms. Y/l/n” she began, her voice gentle yet serious, “I need to explain something to you. After the accident, you sustained a significant concussion, which has led to a form of memory loss known as post-traumatic amnesia..”

“Amnesia?” I whispered, the word foreign and terrifying on my tongue. My gaze darted between her and Alex, hoping for someone to tell me this was all a mistake.

“Yes” she confirmed softly. “From what we can gather, you seem to have lost your recent memories from about two years ago onward. It’s possible that these memories will return with time, but for now, you’re not going to remember much.”

My world shattered with those words. Two years? How could two whole years of my life just be gone? My breath quickened, and the room began to feel smaller, more suffocating. I glanced at Alex, hoping to find some reassurance, but his expression only mirrored my panic.

“Two years?” I asked again, trying to wrap my mind around it. “What happened in those two years? I don’t remember any of it..” My voice trembled as I spoke, my heart sinking deeper into despair.

“That’s okay, Y/n” Alex said, stepping closer to me. “We’ll figure this out together, okay? I’ll help you remember.”

But something about the way he said it felt off. There was a tension in his voice that made me uneasy. I looked back at the boy who had been holding my hand, trying to place his face in the context of my life, but nothing came to mind.

“Who.. who are you?” I asked hesitantly, turning my attention to him. His expression faltered, a mixture of pain and something else flashing across his features.

“Y/n, it’s me.. Matt” he said, his voice tinged with a sorrow that cut through me like a knife.

I stared at him “I- I don't know who you are..” I didn’t recognize him. I didn’t remember anything about him. It was as if the two years that had vanished had taken him with them.

Before I could say anything else, the tension in the room exploded.

“Okay man I think it’s time you leave” Alex snapped, his eyes narrowing at Matt, his voice dripping with venom. “You have no right to be here, especially after what you did.”

“What I did?” Matt shot back, his voice rising with anger. “You’re the one who’s been sat here lying to her! You cheated on her, Alex! Don’t you dare act like you care about her now.”

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. My head spun, the room tilting as I tried to process what was happening. Cheated? Alex cheated on me?

“You’re full of shit, Matt” Alex retorted, stepping closer to him, their faces inches apart. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’ve been lying to her this entire time!” Matt shouted, his voice cracking with emotion. “You think I don’t know what you’ve done? You think she won’t find out? I won’t let you keep doing this to her.”

“Stop it!” I screamed, my voice cutting through their argument like a knife. Tears streamed down my face as the overwhelming stress consumed me. “Just stop! Both of you, get out! Get out!”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Both Matt and Alex turned to look at me, their expressions a mixture of shock and regret. But I couldn’t take it anymore. The confusion, this talk of betrayal, the loss of my memory - it was too much. I felt like I was drowning, and I needed them to leave before I lost myself completely.

“Please.. just leave.” I begged, my voice barely above a whisper, but firm in its resolve.

Matt’s face crumpled with pain, but he nodded slowly, backing away toward the door. Alex hesitated, his eyes pleading with me to understand, but I couldn’t even look at him.

One by one, they both left the room, the door closing behind them with a finality that left me feeling utterly alone. The silence that followed was deafening, the emptiness in my heart growing with every passing second.

I collapsed back onto the bed, my body trembling as I sobbed, the weight of everything too much to bear. Two years of my life, gone. The man I thought I loved and a stranger. The man who claimed to love me and a liar. The situation infront of me confused me as to which one was which. The memories I needed to make sense of it all, vanished.

I was lost in a world that no longer felt like my own.

Matt’s POV

I walked out of Y/n’s hospital room, the door clicking shut behind me like a hammer driving the final nail into a coffin. My heart pounded in my chest, the adrenaline from my argument with Alex still coursing through my veins, but it was nothing compared to the fiery dread settling in my stomach. Every word I’d said to her, every desperate attempt to break through her confusion, seemed to hang in the air like a suffocating fog.

I made my way to the waiting area, my feet heavy, my mind numb. The bright, white lights overhead did nothing to chase away the darkness consuming my thoughts. We approached the row of  cold plastic chairs and Alex sat down, his elbows resting on his knees, head buried in his hands. I could feel the tension radiating off him, but I was too consumed by my own torment to care.

I dropped into a chair two seats away from him, the hard plastic pressing against my back, and let my head fall into my hands. My thoughts spiraled, chaotic and disjointed, but always coming back to one image - the moment she was hit.

The screech of tires. The blinding headlights. The sickening thud as Y/n’s body crumpled under the car’s impact. I could still hear the scream that tore through me as I watched her fly through the air, time slowing to a crawl, helpless to stop it. It played over and over in my mind, each replay more gut wrenching than the last.

I should’ve been faster. I should’ve told her how I really felt. I should’ve… My fists clenched in my hair as I tried to choke down the guilt that threatened to swallow me whole.

What was I even doing on that balcony? Watching her run out of the house, pacing back and forth. I should’ve gone to her instead of just standing there like an idiot, too lost in my own confusion and pain to act. And then when I saw the car coming down the hill, everything in me froze.

"Y/n, get off the road!!" I had shouted, but my voice felt so small, so powerless against the force of what was about to happen. But it's too late.

In a split second, the beam of headlights blinds her. The screeching of tires fills the air as the car tries to stop, but the impact is inevitable. I watch in horror as the car strikes Y/n. The sound of the collision is deafening, and time seems to slow down.

She’s thrown backward, landing hard on the pavement. I can’t breathe, my legs feel like jelly as I race down the stairs, stumbling and pushing through the crowd.

When I finally reach her, my heart is pounding in my chest, my breath coming in short, panicked bursts. I kneel beside her, tears streaming down my face as I try to make sense of the horrific scene before me.

Y/n lies on the ground, her face contorted in pain, her body unmoving. The car speeds away into the night, leaving behind a scene of devastation. The people around us have began to scatter, some calling for an ambulance, others standing in shocked silence.

I gently cradle Y/n's head in my lap, my hands shaking uncontrollably. "Y/n, stay with me," I pleaded, my voice choking with emotion. "Please, stay with me."

She blinks slowly, her eyes meeting mine with a look of pain and resignation. I can see the life fading from her, and it feels like my world is collapsing around me.

The sound of sirens grows louder, and I can hear the distant honking of emergency vehicles approaching. I try to stay strong for her, to keep her conscious until help arrives, but my heart is breaking.

"I’m so sorry," I whisper, tears falling freely. "I’m so sorry for everything."

As the ambulance pulls up, paramedics rush to our side, taking over the situation with practiced efficiency. I’m left standing on the sidelines, my heart shattered as I watch them work to save her. I know that nothing will ever be the same again, and the weight of what just happened is almost too much to bear.

Now she was in that hospital bed, her memories shattered along with my heart. She didn’t even recognize me. My face, my voice - nothing. I was just a stranger to her now, a distant memory from a life she couldn’t even recall.

And then there was Alex. The guy she “loved”, the guy who’d betrayed her. He sat there just a few feet away, but it felt like a canyon stretched between us.  I knew he was going to see this as an opportunity to weasel his way back into her life. She didn't remember any of it, him cheating, the way he treated her like an option. And now this was his free pass, to get her back like nothing had ever happened. I wanted to punch him, to scream at him for all the lies he’d fed her, for making this even more unbearable than it already was. But what good would that do? None of it would bring her memories back. None of it would undo the damage that had been done.

I glanced sideways at Alex. He was still in the same position, as if he were trapped in his own private hell. Good. He deserved it. But the satisfaction was fleeting, replaced quickly by a wave of exhaustion and despair.

All I could do was sit there, replaying the accident in my head, the look of panic in Y/n’s eyes as she realized what was happening, the way everything went silent just before impact. It was a moment I knew would haunt me for the rest of my life, one that no amount of apologies or explanations could ever make right.

All I wanted was for her to be okay, to wake up and remember me, remember us. But even that hope felt distant now, buried under the weight of the reality we were in.

I let out a shuddering breath, forcing myself to look away from Alex and focus on the dull hum of the hospital around us. Waiting, that’s all we could do now. Wait and hope for a miracle that seemed less likely with each passing second.

The door in front of us opened, and in came Nick, Madi, Chris & Emily. I had gone to the hospital with Y/n in the ambulance, and the paramedics contacted Alex as he was still down as Y/n’s emergency contact. The news of what happened tore through the party fast, but getting out of the place was hard to do so with the amount of emergency services on scene. 

“God Matt is she okay?” Nick asks frantically. 

“She’s awake Nick.. she’ll be okay.. But she doesn’t remember anything.” 

“Oh thank god she's okay, maybe it’s for the best that she doesn't remember the accident happening.” Nick says, trying to make me feel better.

“No, Nick. She doesn’t remember anything. She doesn’t remember me, she won't remember you, she doesn’t have any memory of the last 2 years at all.” I said, tears outlining my eyes.

Nick stood there with a horrified expression on his face. “You love her don’t you?” Nick whispers, so low that only us can hear.

“More than anything Nick, more than anything I know.”

 “Do you think I could go in and see her?” Nick questions.

“If you want, but she’s stressed out at the minute.. Just try your best not to make anything worse.” I say, as Nick nods at me, getting up to gently knock on the door to Y/n’s room.

I take my eyes off Nick and lock eyes with Emily.

“Can we go outside for a minute for some air?” I asked her, knowing I'm about to have a conversation that I should’ve handled differently nights ago.

a/n: sorry.. again..

taglist : @muwapsturniolo @anitahunt @sturnfannn @jayde510 @chrissfavhoe @babyalliah-777 @v33angel @urmom69lol @willowrites @ribread03 @2muchofaslvt @sturnsaver @sleepysturniolo @jcsturniolo11 @jessie-essie @hoeforchrizz @mynbbys @sturniolopanini @mattsturnxoxo @delicatechrry @t77te @sturnsyaper69 @hotdismylife @maggot3647 @ivysturnss @noplaceissafeanymore @mattssgf @yourfavsturniologirl @maethem0nth @sillyponygrl @mattyblover07 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @dominicfikeenthusiast @mattsfavbigtitties @ncm9696 @chrisstvrns @schlutt4matty @chrissolos @ilusa @amelia-sturniolo3 @wonnieeluvvr @pussydestroyer100 @amexiass @mystinkylefttoe26 @lizzysmith110 @sturniololovebot @secret-sturniolo @freshythefishy @witchofthehour @stvrnlover @alizestvrnss @beachbabe000

[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.

[neonfretra]

pls dont be so comfortable calling random real peoples names weird or fake or ugly or whatever thats a whole name with culture and history and meaning (and even if it was someone choosing something that sounded nice . thats someones name man :( ) so anyways lets go

a very very sloppy guide on not being mean about names

look up how to pronounce their name

youtube is your friend! ipa phonetic system is your friend! it truly is incredible how easy it is nowadays to look at someones name and NOT know how to start with it and just. look it up LOL . sure you might miss the intricacies of the accent but theres a difference between not hittin the guttural h or sayin the m weird than like . dancin around sayin their name or makin a HUGE deal about how youre so bad or tryin so hard

please dont go learnin peoples names as like a moral thing . dont go sayin peoples names and expecting a good job or somethin thats just they name man.

look up the meaning of their name

genuinely its a world of difference for me personally to learn that something is not JUST sounds. theres parts to a name! that mean things! these are words and not just funny sounds... its that easy to bridge that mental gap to start wantin to treat the name polite...

learn other languages and cultural naming conventions

which sounds like an insane amount of work actually but im so serious this is fun to me

its simple stuff like. goin on wikipedia to figure how certain cultures choose last names. what kind of sounds do and dont exist in a language! how is it written and structured!

theres a REASON why i dont share none of my findings or research LOL not qualified!

just be nice!

but the more you see other languages and names the less startling or strange things outside of whats immediately familiar to you! this is good and important to not sounding stupid as hell <- WHICH I AM PAINFULLY AWARE OF WHEN I DO . LOL <3 rest yall deserve patience for the struggle of learning . but not me! i have never learned a thing in my life i came outta the womb knowin the difference between effect/affect

also its a really fun way to pick up random word parts for you language learners out there

which is not to say that jokin bouta name makes you horrible or whatever . this is one topic of a conversation . i am not the be all end all of how you should talk to all people ever good god have yall seen how i talk

just consider:

do you really gotta joke about it?

if you think its toeing the line on decent and not, do you really gotta say it? if its fun at the expense of another person, do we gotta? especially online where you can just. backspace. think that one over?

[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.

[lakesbian]

this isn't qualifying as fanfiction or even dialogue with a point but i jotted down a random snip from my imaginary better version of the twig chapter where sy negotiates for the lambs to give him helen + pieces of ashton in exchange for a doctor he and jessie kidnapped. because ive been doing this thing lately called just writing whatever the hell appears in my brain for lambwriting practice and so i don't forget scene ideas in actual fics. and im never gonna have a reason to actually incorporate this into anything so ill just post it

“I…can't say I have anything better,” Jessie said. 

Lillian gawped at her. Then she pointed, sounding almost aghast. “I've just realized, you're–you’re in on all of this!”

Jessie took a bite of her danish and chewed for a good ten seconds before responding, which I supposed was a strategy to give Lillian a moment to calm down, and to avoid saying the obvious No shit. 

“It's not ideal,” she said. “But you have to admit, it's not reasonable to ask for Berger without giving something of equal value back. You also have to admit that Berger is an extremely valuable person. Right? Helen makes a fair exchange in terms of commitment. But we can't use her in the same way you can use Berger. Throwing in a piece of Ashton isn't hurting you, and it gives us something slightly more even.”

Lillian scowled. 

“My main complaint is that taking a piece of Ashton bothers you, and it's still not as useful as Berger. So we'd be coming out on the worse end of the deal, and losing some of your good graces in the process.” She gave me an annoyed glare. “But I don't have any better ideas, so that leaves me backing the Sylvester plan.”

“See?” I crowed, spreading my arms in triumph. “Even Jessie likes my idea.”

“Why is that supposed to be convincing?” Duncan asked, sounding offended. “You're–she’s your girlfriend, of course she would agree with you. It doesn't make it any less insane.”

“That sounds sexist, Duncan,” Jessie said, turning her judgment on him. “I'm his girlfriend, so I'm automatically subordinate to whatever he says? Did you not just hear me criticizing it?”

“No! No, I didn't mean it like that, what I mean is–you two are dating, and you're leading this whole project together, so it shouldn't be a point in his favor that you're both on the same page.”

I leaned on the table, getting closer to Duncan. “I can't blame you for not knowing this, Dunc, since you haven't been around Jessie long–”

“Duncan, please,” he interrupted. 

“Big mistake,” Lillian muttered. 

“But the thing is, Dunc,” I carried on, “that Jessie likes to complain about my ideas more than anyone else you could find. In fact, I'll count selling her on this as a greater victory than selling you.” 

“That sounds…completely backwards.” 

“No,” Lillian sighed. “That makes sense. Of course he's not concerned about being able to manipulate us.” 

“I'm noticing I'm starting to hear lots of people at this table agreeing with me!” I said brightly. 

“Two,” Jessie said. “Two people begrudgingly agreeing.”

It was a brilliant dynamic, really. By siding with everyone else in being exasperated with me, she could argue for everything we wanted, and look perfectly unbiased while she did it. 

“Three!” I said. “Three, if we count Helen wanting to come with us, which I absolutely do.” Helen waved cheerfully at the mention of her name, still munching her pastries. “Why, including me, we've almost got a majority.”

“We're not including you,” Jessie said tiredly. “You don't get a vote on your own plan.”

No one spoke up to tell her she didn't get a vote. The verisimilitude and convincing effect of her exasperation, of course, came from how she wasn't even remotely acting. 

“I disagree,” I said. I beamed at her. 

She shoved her glasses up and pinched her nose.

[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.

[elusiiev]

omori headcanons: the brothers

hero:

when he was little, he used to tutor kel quite frequently. kel would keep all his notes from previous years for kel to use, and often didnt have much downtime on weekdays because of it. he didn't mind, though, he just wanted to make sure kel was doing well in school and enjoyed spending time with his little brother

he also didn't really have many friends his age aside from mari, choosing to spend his time studying if he wasn't running errands or hanging out with the rest of the gang. he also had a hard time making new friends, feeling the connection he already had with the gang could never be beaten out, therefore he never tried

when mari died, his grades suffered and he hardly passed that year. it unfortunately docked some of his chances for college, but didn't end up affecting him too badly

he went into college to become a pediatric psychologist, 'inspired' by mari's death to try his best to help anyone else who might've been under the same circumstances

when faced with The Truth, he freezes and ends up leaving the hospital immediately. he stayed home for the next couple weeks, and once he was mildly able to function again, he tried his best to get back into his work and college.

he does not hate sunny after the truth, however he tries to speak to sunny as little as possible after, still clearly affected. maybe after 5-10 years they would reconnect, but it would definitely take a while for hero to get into a stance where he feels like he can personally be ok talking to sunny

he goes on to be a psychologist for a few years after graduating before completely changing his career path and becoming a chef !

personally, i dont see hero dating again. i know its not very realistic, as someone's probably gonna get over soemthing that happened in their childhood like 20-30 years down the line but still.... im heromari forever ok... and if theres no mari then there's no one else for him /j

kel:

when he was younger, he was very active and had loads of constant energy. (he's 100% the hyperactive side of adhd) he did lots of sports and was actually pretty good at most sports with how frequently he played them, but his personal favorite was basketball. he is also an extremely sound sleeper, often using so much energy that he crashing towards the end of the day

he always had long hair since his parents could never get him to sit down for a haircut, he was just entirely uninterested and didnt like having someone touch his hair so much. when he got slightly older he got his hair cut relatively short, realized he liked longer hair, and kept growing it out and only getting occasional trims

he didnt spend too much time around the sporty kids, feeling that they were a little too rugged, so the gang was pretty much the only friends he hung out with outside of school

he struggled a lot at school, not because he's dumb, but because of the way everything was taught. he had a hard time grasping a lot of concepts, which is why hero tutored him so much. with hero's explanation and unique view of subjects he was able to understand things a lot better and keep his grades up around B's

however, when hero went to college, kel's grades and mental health suffered. kel was ALWAYS around hero, and even when things were bad, like when mari died, they were still together. now his friend group has broken apart, his brother is leaving, and he's even more unfocused than ever. he started taking basketball more seriously, knowing his height qualified him, and it was pretty much the only thing he was good at now

he hoped if he was good enough at basketball then his parents wouldn't be mad, that he'd still have something to show them at the end of the day, that he's not useless.

he talked more with the sporty kids, but didnt really enjoy himself, forming more surface level connections than anything

after the truth, kel tries his best to get sunny to say that he's joking, but to no avail. he feels the desperate need to forgive sunny, but just cant find it in him to do so. he misses the next few basketball games, trying to understand what had happened and trying to cheer hero up a little

kel graduates with relatively low grades, only really able to keep a passing score from his constant tutor-hopping

he goes to live with hero for a while, giving up on basketball from burnout and going towards minimum wage jobs for a while until he finally finds something he'd be interested in taking a job in, that being the pastry business

kel would find a partner at some point but i have no clue who they'd be

OK THATS IT!!! this was a lot of writing and a lot of procrastinating other things i should've been doing but thats ok

[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 💪😼

[mono-red-menace]

i think we should all be a lot nicer to each other, honestly

and i also think i should go through and find all the people who I feel are approaching things wrong and just like. unfollow them.

like all the time i see people who have opinions i find correct, but approaches i find wrong, and even bad, but i feel like their reasons are correct, and the fact that they can justify their reasons with cited sources makes me feel like they're more intelligent than me, so they Can Do No Wrong or whatever. and i feel like unfollowing is Bad because it means that i'm like, idk. giving up on getting a source i feel like i can trust because they can cite their fucking sources in ways that i just can't because of my adhd.

like i can't remember Shit. i tried to read and take notes and stuff and i just Can't remember shit. even if i go over the same thing over and over, it's just super hard. so when someone else can, i give them a LOT of room to be less-than-stellar towards others because I feel like they're Smarter so it's okay, so I just Bite My Tongue and follow along in the ways I'm comfortable.

but like i'm starting to think that maybe I should focus less on people who i feel are The Most Qualified (even though they're really not all that qualified honestly) if it means that I feel like i'm becoming cruel, and if it means that it is contributing towards my unkindness toward myself.

and like i know this sounds silly but it ties into my Obsessions. i'm Obsessed with Moral Purity. I'm Obsessed with Factual Accuracy, Especially When It Comes To Morality. so like, if people have the Right Opinions, they get more leeway, and like I mean I'm not that smart anyways, and they're smarter than me, so like i CANT unfollow them because then i'd be losing out of Factual Accuracy.

and it feels silly that i'm obsessed with stuff like this, but I feel like i'm a Bad Incompetent Person and i need to Become Better and the only way to do so is to like. make sure im listening to the Right people and avoiding the Wrong people, and if i Stop focusing on that, then that must mean I'm going back to being Bad, which is Bad.

but i mean like i don't have to be wholly knowledgeable about everything. like, main thing is, i need to survive. i need to be happy. and I'm not contributing as much as I want to in the ways I need to, and part of that is because I'm too busy being cruel to myself, lol.

so im gonna actually resolve to start unfollowing people who i feel like are being dicks instead of just like. ignoring it or, sometimes even laughing at it and participating.

just like. idk man.

i've learned in my time here that being cruel to people doesn't actually make them do better. it often makes them do worse.

and this doesn't just apply to being cruel to someone for "being lazy," or "being a faker," or any of that ableist stuff. it also applies to being cruel to someone for not knowing something. and it's being cruel to someone for believing something they didn't know was misinformation.

like i'm going to be honest. i'm Much more likely to accept what someone is saying to me, even if it's wrong, if it's told to me in a kind manner. this is just true of like. almost anyone. and like idk. i know kindness doesn't mean correctness, but like, i'm more likely to try to engage with information and learn more about someone told me kindly than if I was berated for not knowing it.

like. idk. sorry. kindness is the approach. i've learned this firsthand. kindness is the only approach.

abuse is what got me into a state of no self confidence, of needing to be constantly reminded how to do things to the point where people would do it for me, not always because i couldn't remember (though that was also common), but because I was scared i'd be wrong. abuse is what got me to the point of physically harming myself by trying to do way more than i was capable of for fear of being "lazy" or "worthless."

and the only way I was able to stop it was to learn to be kind to myself.

so like idk. i'm reevaluating the things I'm Letting Slide for the sake of Moral Justness. and I'm putting confidence in myself that I won't fall away from my morals just because I don't try to surround myself with just The Most Morally and Factually Correct people to compensate for my own disabilities.

and also i'm going to stop surrounding myself with people who are dicks to people about not knowing things or struggling to do things the "correct" way due to disability.

like idk man. i think you're just being ableist. i think you're just being ableist when you make fun of people for trying to learn things in the ways they can, instead of struggling to do it in a way that they can't because it's "correct."

and like. idk man. i think sometimes you're just being a dick. not necessarily like ableist or anything like that. not something you'd necessarily feel like you'd have to fix, because you feel morally justified to Be a dick Unless it's Problematic. i just think that you're being a dick. lol.

i'm not going to put up with it anymore. I STG. i keep saying it and then not following thru bc some of the ppl i see being mean and stuff are mutuals, and I have this weird like. unhealthy connection thing about mutuals. but like i swear like this isn't good for me and it isn't good for the people around me. :|

[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