#yes. the tunnels are very much literal

[thebnha-auhoard]

When you have accidentally Co-Founded a Villain organization in the literal Underground Tunnels under Japan.

Bakugo has no Fucking Clue how he got into this

[natandacat]

"So, how was your summer?" "Hm (sweating)"...

[ID: a screenshot of my Steam interface for the game Hades. It states that I've played 110.8 hours and have gotten all 49 achievements.]

[saduko]

HARD TO MISS

Lando Norris x Driver!Reader 7.9K words

Summary: You had driven sick many times before, but never sick enough to retire from a race. Now Lando was worried about you and how the media was going to react. But maybe this was just about the best thing that could of happened to him. Or in which, reader gets sick during the Spanish GP race and has to face the looming media presence after retiring early with a newfound anger she's never experienced. She was a mess of emotions, acting so different, or maybe it wasn't just her being strange.

Teammates, established relationship, an unexpected surprise?? Note: this unfortunately is a re-upload because my dumbass literally deleted the post the first time I posted it despite it being up for days. Yes I'm mad, and no this isn't edited because of it.

The heat of the Spanish sun beat down on the track, the asphalt shimmering with a relentless intensity that seemed to seep through the cockpit. You gripped the steering wheel tighter, your knuckles whitening as you fought to keep your focus on the race ahead, hot, fast breaths heaving through your helmet like a symphony. The familiar roar of the engine, usually a comforting sound, felt more like a distant hum as yet another wave of nausea rolled through you.

This wasn’t the first time you’d raced under less-than-ideal conditions, but today felt different. The adrenaline that usually sharpened your senses now seemed to amplify the queasiness in your stomach, every bump and turn on the track making it harder to push the discomfort aside. You swallowed hard, trying to suppress the rising bile as you powered through another corner, the car responding to your every command despite the growing turmoil within.

The twisting and turning of the track seemed endless, each lap blurring into the next as your vision narrowed, tunnel-like, around the path ahead. You knew you needed to speak up, to let your team know something was wrong, but the words felt heavy on your tongue, weighted down by the fear of admitting weakness. Finally, you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

"I'm not feeling very well."

The twisting and turning of the track was making it hard for you to settle your stomach enough to find your voice, but when you had, there was a long silence on the other end. Ears alert with anticipation as nothing came through, before the thick accent of your engineer, Marlow finally sounded in with a panicked voice, "Are you feeling faint?"

"Not really.” You huffed. “I feel quite nauseous though. My stomach is not cooperating."

There was a short silence through your head piece before a shuffle was heard on the other side, followed by a concerned, "Should we retire the car?"

The suggestion shakes you and a quick puff of air leaves your mouth in order to hopefully settle the turning in your stomach, though you think it might have translated more as annoyance to your team despite the intention. You couldn't help but hope it hadn't come off too harshly, however the forceful tone of your next words certainly didn’t do much to calm the idea. "No! I'm not retiring the car... No, I'm okay."

"Please love, If you can't finish there's no shame in retiring. You're not letting anyone down, we understand-!" He knew how stubborn you were and he really didn't want the question to feel like the hit to the ego he knew you would take it as, but it was hard when everyone knew this race was what was separating you from top 3 and the rest in the championship. They knew it wouldn't be that easy, quickly corroborated by the frustrated grunt you let sound through the line.

Your foot braces against the accelerator, bearing down full force as you take the straight right after corner 4 at full speed, you weren't retiring. Subjective to your own harsh perception of yourself, retiring - no matter the circumstance - was one of the most culpable failures you could commit. It was never a rewarding feeling, and whether or not to retire from a race like this was an indisputable no. Six years into the sport and you had never retired from a race on your own accord. Today would not be the first.

"I'm okay for now."

There was no arguing with a driver going over 300 kilometers an hour, and so the team let your decision chart as they sat back and kept on with their roles, no different than before. Except for one thing, noting the conversation, they all made undisclosed motions to keep an extra close eye on the driver cam.

And so the race continued as 10 laps went by, 10 very shaky laps with countless immoderate wobbles, a few oversteers around a couple corners and a very close call with Carlos who made quick work of letting the communal radio know how exactly he felt about that, words that were quickly relayed to you. Though his accent was warm, his words were anything but kind and usually you would have taken it on the chin, laughed at his profanities and apologized with a quick witty comment to follow, but your team watched as you only let out a harrowing breath and shook your head. You obviously were not on your A-game and your entire team could see that.

So with all this, it came as no surprise when the silence in their headphones was abruptly interrupted with the blaring sound of your wheels against the track, followed by your voice, quick yet strained, echoing through the radio.

"I think I'm gonna be sick, guys."

With not a moment to spare, Marlows eyebrows furrowed down at your words, worry clear in his voice as he pressed down on the radio button. And though his words were mostly phrased as a question emphasizing the choice as your own, it was still hard to miss the pleading tone in his voice as he spoke loudly into the headpiece, "Are we retiring? It’s your call, love."

Your end of the radio was silent as the words rang through your headset, though not for lack of connection as the sound of your wheels barrelling against the tar never ceased. They knew you were still there, just not vocalizing your thoughts. They had no doubt this was a tough decision. A huge part of this sport was pride; pride in your team, pride in your car, pride in your abilities. And being the only woman on the grid meant your pride was strong and the backlash was inevitably more harsh when things went wrong. 

It was already hard enough for a driver to admit they needed to back out of a race, let alone for a driver who had something to prove and everything to lose. It was a decision they knew you were avoiding complying with. You had been complaining about feeling ill for days leading up to the race and yet insisted on racing regardless. They knew this was important to you, and to back out now, after making it so far already? Your heart was strong, and your head stronger. But for this one time, it seems your stomach was the strongest, and your nausea was taking the reins of this particular race. And so you bit your lip, hoping to keep the bile from rising for just a little while longer. “I need to stop. I’m retiring the car. I can't help it.”

As disappointing as ending a race early was, your team couldn’t deny the shred of relief that washed over them as you, for once, chose your health first. As fun as racing was, and as rewarding as a race in points felt, none of it was ever worth the increased risk to your safety. They would much rather you all woozy up in the medic bay with a DNF, than halfway to unconsciousness with a p8 finish. This certainly wasn’t your best race anyways, probably one the lowest you’d been in points this season. 

As you began your way around your last lap towards the pit lane, your mind raced with all the dreadful thoughts a DNF brought, the pit in your stomach rearing into a sizeable hole which would of left you feeling melancholy if the twisting and turning hadn’t trumped the discontent. 

As each second passed, you could feel whatever it was you had eaten for lunch earlier with Lando rising higher and higher. High enough in fact, that you found it necessary to press the radio button once more with a request. “Have a bag ready for me when I pull up, please.”

To which a compliant, “Copy.” sounded suit.

It wasn’t too much longer until your orange car could be seen sweeping down the pit lane, no hesitation in your steering as you made a harsh turn into your spot by the garage door. The pit team were prepared to make haste in their actions, ready to prop your car onto the jack in order to wheel it into the garage only to be stopped when two quick hands extended up as you braced yourself up against the halo and pulled yourself out of the seat.

At this point, you were hyper aware of the all the people surrounding you, as well as the multitude of cameras pointing directly at you, recording your every move for all the judgeful eyes to see, and yet you found not a single cell in yourself which cared as you leaned over the car and called out for your assistant, who quickly met you with a large black bin in tow. 

You quickly grabbed for it, pulling your front over the side of the car as far as you could in order to hide yourself from the view of the cameras. And out it came, a slurry of lunch which you had been so looking forward to at the time, and quickly regretting now as it all escaped your stomach.

What in the world had you feeling so ill in the first place? It felt like it had been lightyears since you had felt sick enough to actually puke, and god did you not miss this feeling. Had you eaten something bad earlier in the day? Maybe. But everything you ate Lando had eaten too, so wouldn’t he be sick as well? Well, it’s not really like you could ask him, you thought as you looked up just in time to see him overtake George on the big screen. He looks a little busy. And you should be busy too.

The thought seared through your mind as you spat into the bin, you should be racing too, but at least you feel a little better now that it’s come out; though not completely. Your stomach still churned a little and now your throat burned but you guessed it was better than crashing. You had already nearly done that just by being on the track a little too long and now you were definitely going to receive an earful from Sainz when he finally crossed the checkered flag and found you inevitably moping. 

However, you quickly realized that Carlos was actually the least of your worries and the only person you really had to fear was Lando, for when he heard about the outcome of your race, you were sure to face the lecture of your life. He had been warning you for days leading up to it not to participate. You were obviously unwell and he was aware of the dangers an unwell driver faced under the taxing conditions of a race but you were stubborn, insisting you would be fine. Look at you now. Head in a bin with cameras all around and a bruised ego. 

There was only a little time now until the race ended to recover before everyone came pummeling at you with questions. 

The wheel was starting to feel heavy in his hands and the rubbing of the HANS device against his neck was really starting to hurt. They were approaching the end stretch of the race and as the last 15 laps commenced, Lando couldn’t help but feel a little relieved knowing this would be over soon. This was undoubtedly a tough race. 

From lights out till now, he’d managed to pull from P5 to P4 and had every intention of passing Lewis for a podium position, soon enough he’d be in DRS range but for the time being, he was focused on catching up. The world around him had become mute, he hadn’t even looked up at the grand screen once, all he knew was the car.

So he had almost jumped in his seat when the chime sounded. Just as he began slowing around the final corner leading up to the line for his next lap, the sound of an incoming radio signal had his ears perking in anticipation. Were they planning on pitting him again? Sure he was definitely pushing a little too hard against his tires- not really doing his best at conserving them but he was so close to a podium position and he just needed a little bit more force-

“Lando mate,” Will’s voice sounded through his ears, his tone a little hesitant which left Lando biting his lip with anticipation. Please don't box. “I’ve just been informed by Marlow that y/n has retired.”

Lando's heart nearly fell into his stomach as the words registered in his brain. You retired?! Now thinking about it, you did start only a single position behind him and he hadn’t really seen all that much of you during the race. What happened? “Did she crash?!”

“No Lando, she's okay, it was voluntary. She wasn’t feeling well, I don’t think.” 

“You don’t think?”

“She’s okay Lando, just under the weather.”

Not feeling well? Under the weather? You’d raced a multitude of times before whilst under the weather. Each time he’d advise you not to race, and each time you’d ignore him, swearing up and down you’d be fine- and to Lando’s consolation each time you were fine. You’d come out the other side with a smile, no qualms or grievances and you would save your complaints for him afterwards, when no one else was around to judge. As you had done before, he expected the same this time. You’d never let a little ailment set you back, especially not let it affect you enough to retire. Not unless it really was bad.

Lando’s thoughts were soon interrupted by Will’s voice once more, his tone dismissive, implying the conversation had reached its end and no more discussion would be had about it. “We will contact you again if anything happens.”

And despite Lando’s dismay, he complies. There were still a good 15 laps left of the race ahead and he had a lot of catching up to do, a lot of competitive driving to be had. His focus couldn’t be elsewhere, but what was he supposed to do knowing his sick fiancé has just pulled herself out of a race? What was he supposed to do when he knew you well enough to understand how prideful you could be, and how poor you had to feel to choose to retire?  

He really tries to not let it bother him. During the next lap, he tries to not let it bother him as he forces himself to look anywhere else but the jumbo screen in hopes of a possible update on your condition. He tries to not let it bother him in the lap after that as the team radios in to discuss possible strategies regarding the oncoming overtake he will perform, and he tries to not let it bother him during the lap after that one when he finally passes Lewis. Now 3 laps have passed but he just can't get the questions about you off his mind. It is bothering him. He shouldn’t be distracted, especially while he’s in a podium position but he can’t help it. 

So as he crosses onto the next straight, he finds himself radioing in with the question that had been eating away at him since the news broke. “Uh.. Any updates on y/n? Is she alright?”

There's a considerable moment of silence on Mclaren’s end of the line, the team were honestly tied on what to tell the man and what not to. You weren’t exactly in optimal condition, and word around was slightly worrisome regarding your state. You were okay, but definitely not well, they knew because they had caught the treacherous sounds of your gags a few more times since the first echoing through the mclaren garage. 

As your fiance, he deserved to know these details, but as a driver, they knew it wasn’t smart to worry him. What were they to say as to not stress him out in an already extremely stressful situation? They could tell him a few of your team members were discussing taking you to the hospital. Or they could keep him from driving the car through the wall in order to meet you there. The decision was clear, they needed him to focus on driving. “She’s okay, she's currently being looked at by the medical team.”

“She has the medical team on her?!” Will’s eyes shut hard as Lando’s reply came through. Definitely not the right choice of words.

“Just a precaution Lando, she isn’t well at the moment.”

Lando’s bottom lip catches between his teeth as he ponders his engineer's words. He finds himself over analyzing every syllable, every infliction with intentions of unpacking whatever truth was seeping between the lines, and he notices that he’s biting his cheek as he rounds the 8th corner with a little less precision than usual. “Is she bad?”

Landos team take quick note of this change in pace, latching onto the clear oversteer he performs around the corner. They quickly find themselves trying to pull away from the topic in order to keep him both figuratively and literally on track and so Will concludes the conversation with a stern tone. “Please Lando, you can see her when you're done racing. We need you to focus on the race.”

He almost wanted to curse the man out purely due to frustration despite knowing deep down that he was right. But what else was he supposed to do when he knows his fiancé is sitting in the medic bay and all he can do to support her is… well, nothing. He just has to finish this race.

Despite your protests, your team was adamant on a visit to the med bay in order to possibly come up with a reason for your sudden onset of race ending symptoms, and after a quick trip down the hall that took a little longer than usual due to your need to stop once more, you were simply told there wasn’t much they could do long term to crack the bilous case. Shocker. They did however hand you something to ease the nausea which you were beyond thankful for.

You had spent so long counting down the seconds until the anti-nausea medication kicked in that you hadn't even noticed that the race had ended, nor did you notice the approaching sound of hasteful footsteps until the door to your driver's room came barrelling open with a thud.

“I told you not to race.” Lando’s voice was so stern it had you stiff. There was a slight indication of anger lingering behind his words but ultimately his face was a dead giveaway to the worried intention etched behind his tone. 

“I thought I’d be okay.”

“You threw up?” His eyebrows came down as he said it, and you noticed it was less of a question and more as if he was trying to confirm a suspicion. Someone from your team must have snitched on you already. No damn loyalties.

“Only a little.” Your words were sheepish.

“You stink.” He deadpanned and you found yourself scoffing, slightly exasperated at the bluntness of his words. The statement had you petty with offense. 

“You don’t smell very good either-”

“-I don’t smell like vomit.”

Finally you let out a sigh, already tired of the back and forth over something so menial, and unworthy of an argument. You were sick. Shit happens. “Lando, I wasn’t feeling well and I’d been feeling it all week with no real problem so I didn’t think there would be a reason to sit this race out. I didn’t think I would actually need to pull over. It’s done now.”

There was a loud silence between the two of you as he onced over your body with intentful eyes. You seemed okay enough and he guessed this really wasn’t the time or place to start an argument, especially over something as stupid as him being worried about you, you were on the same damn side. So instead he just sighed, bit his lip and nodded at you. “Alright.”

“Guys.” Charlotte suddenly peaked her head through the cracked door to glance at you both. “Come on, we need you at Media now.”

This wasn’t going to be easy, that you knew. The media had given you a hard time for things way less than this so you could only imagine what they had in store for you after throwing up on live TV for half the world to see moments after a voluntary DNF. It just about felt like you were being led to your execution with the way you knew they were about to tear into you. But there was no avoiding this, and the grimaced look etched into your features left Lando very aware of this fact.

“I know you don’t wanna do this but you have to go out there, you’ve got no choice. Not unless you’re willing to cop a fat fine.”

You stuck an eyebrow up at Landos voice, the sides of your lips extending out as you conceptualized his words but your expression quickly had him shaking his head alongside a hearty laugh. “No, no. Don’t even look like you’re considering it.”

Your laugh to match his own soon sounded throughout the room, and his hand swiftly found its place at the nape of your neck, to which he gave a quick squeeze and began leading you out the door into the McLaren garage hallway. “We have a wedding to plan and that means a lot of money to spend. You will not be wasting money trying to get out of media duties.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at how exasperated and sarcastic he sounded.

You both found yourselves trailing along Charlotte's path until the hallway quickly opened up into a large room where a few other drivers had already begun their own separate interviews towards the camera crews which littered every corner. The media pen; may as well be your death site.

Whilst waiting for the race to end; and for the nausea to subside, Charlotte had given you a rundown - more like a lecture; regarding what to expect and how to approach the inevitably condescending questions that would soon be thrown your way. 

This was going to be brutal, you knew that. You had finally made a mistake that the male media could exploit to reinforce their stereotypes about damned women in motorsports. Just another day facing the misogyny of the position, except this time, it was your own carelessness that put you in this position. The only damned thing you’d be was a damned liar if you said the upcoming articles tearing into you weren’t already gnawing at your mind. You could just picture it;

‘’Mclaren Princess’ Just Might Throw Her Way Up and Out of Competitive Driving,’

‘Speed Queen’s Weak Stomach Shows Why She’s Better Suited for Other Races,’

‘Too Glamorous For The F1 Track? or Maybe Not Glamorous Enough; - maybe we should leave the fast cars to the men that made them.’ 

This might just be worse than the ‘Revving Engines, not Emotions,’ article from last year when you teared up in Australia after what was the most frustrating race of your career. This was going to be horrible. 

Your actions were always hyper-criticized, but maybe just once you were being too imaginative for your own good. You needed to calm down because words tended to stick with you. A fact that Charlotte knew all too well, because she was sure to speak words she knew would ring through your ears during those interviews; Take it on the chin, stay composed and certainly don't be snappy. One of those was doable.

The moment you passed the threshold beyond the doorway, officially crossing into the media pen, it's as if every set of eyes and every lens of a camera had turned to watch you move. The room hadn’t by any means gone quiet, but there was definitely a shift in volume as the noise settled from a near unbearable buzz to a tolerable chatter, just enough to notice the change. The influx of attention almost had you doubling over once again, especially when you felt the nausea begin to slowly creep up for the second time that day. But you made notable efforts to keep your head high, hoping that a strong demeanor would at least soften the blow which would soon be dealt.

Lando’s arm had split from your neck not long after entering the room. You guys were always light on your PDA, trying to keep as much of your personal relationship as private as possible; as private as an already public relationship could possibly be. But he still managed to give you a small, reassuring squeeze on the hip before you both set off, being led in opposite directions.

A flurry of reporter eyes seemed to trail your path as your personal PR manager led you to a spot right in between Carlos and Charles, and as you started setting yourself up, you unavoidably overheard their journalists trying to wrap up their interviews, which you could only imagine would be to get a shot at you faster. 

However unluckily for those journalists, it seems your first adversary had already taken the stand just directly across from you with a large, heavy mic and aged, gleaming eyes; eyes that had your own widening in alarm. You were quite familiar with this journalist, very familiar with him actually as he had always been quick to criticize you and your skills on many occasions in the past. He was quite ill-mannered towards you, definitely holding a target out with a gun aimed directly for your career, making it clear he was disapproving of your presence as a woman on this grid. You just knew he had been waiting for you. This was going to be hell.

The journalist quickly began setting himself up, the cameraman behind him pointing the lens directly at your sour face, which you admittedly were not doing a great job at masking. Though, if your interviewer had noticed, he thankfully hadn’t commented on it. However that didn’t stop him from wasting any time beginning to comment on the other mistakes you had made today.

“Always a pleasure to speak with you, Speed Queen.” His gravelly voice spat. “Though I think ‘Pit Princess’ may be a little more fitting after today's race.” A sly smirk quickly spread across his mouth, an act that had your hands bracing against the railing separating the two of you from one another. Charles had quickly taken notice of this from his position just beside you. He admittedly felt he was doing quite well at remaining professional and ignoring the exchange between you and the infamous journalist, but now he was on high alert, ears perked in your direction with the intention of intervening at any given moment.

Despite your peeved sentiment, you did well at keeping your face straight and head high at the insult, feeling it necessary to not crack in front of the person trying to get a reaction out of you. Don’t prove his point. 

“I appreciate the creativity, but I think I would prefer to focus on the race itself rather than nicknames. I’m quite happy with the one I have.” There was a moment in which he tried to intervene, however you were determined to move past the subject. “-And, you know, today’s challenges were significant, but that’s a part of the sport, I guess.” Despite the lingering nausea, you still managed to force a professional smile.

“Is it?” He curled an eyebrow condescendingly, a look which nearly had a scowl slipping past your placid facade. But instead you held strong, that sickeningly sweet smile dripping like honey with disdain. “Part of the sport is the unpredictability of it. So I’d say so.”

The man's eyes gleamed on, a small hum escaping his lips as he nodded absently. “It’s just that no other driver seems to have this issue. Do you think maybe your choice to retire has to do with particular limitations a female might have that the men in this sport don’t?”

And as expected, the indirectness wasn’t so indirect anymore, the true misogynistic intentions of his words slowly crept out with ferocity. 

“No.” Your tone was final, like it hadn’t ever crossed your mind, because it really hadn’t. “No I really don’t. Many men before me have gotten sick during races, I guess I just preferred to voluntarily take myself out of the race than spend the rest of it wiping pesto off my visor.” You snarled. 

A small tap against your arm quickly alerted you to the contention of your PR manager, a disapproving gesture silently advising you to reel it in. But god was it hard when his face was so smug. She should understand that being passive aggressive was much more admissible than being violent, so she may as well let you get your anger out in the socially acceptable way, though you admit it was strange of you to feel so angry. You were usually better at keeping your emotions in check. Hm. But alas, you complied, correcting your face and letting him speak; even if you wanted so badly to interrupt him with your thoughts of how horrible a journalist he was. 

“Well, I think a lot of people agree when I say that this sport tends to reward determination and resilience, not quitting.”

Were you hearing this correctly? Was he really implying that you should have thrown up right into your helmet and just continued through the race like nothing? It was getting really hard to remain socially acceptable. What was this new found anger? “Racing may sometimes reward resilience, however, being sharp minded is more important sometimes. I noticed I was unwell enough for it to affect my performance, so I decided it was smarter to take myself out of the race. Especially after nearly taking Carlos out of the race too.” 

Just as you finished answering the (absurd) question, a suave laugh sounded to your left as Carlos suddenly stepped up beside you, sliding his arm across your shoulder. “I did have some choice words prepared for you earlier Mija, but then I learnt what happened and now I forgive you.” His eyes suddenly turned to the journalist, a glint of exaggerated pity in relation to the topic seeping into his expression, almost as if he was speaking with experience to someone who wouldn’t understand; because he was. “Driving whilst sick is not for the weak.”

The journalist's cold eyes squinted slightly as Carlos’ condescending tone registered in his head, yet he kept his expression neutral and mic high as he nodded. “I’m sure it isn’t.” And nothing was said after that. No rebuttal, no argumentative comment, just a plea of agreement. God, how you wished interviews were that easy for you.

A few voices echoing out from somewhere behind had caught the attention of the trio, and it didn’t take long for you to realize it was Carlos’ team instructing him to move onwards to his next position. So with a reassuring smile towards you and a quick quirk of a brow towards the reporter, he was off to his next interview without another word, taking your fleeting moment of security along with him as he left.

Now it was just you and the reporter once more, and you could tell he wasn’t feeling as cordial with you as he was with Carlos, evident by the slight snarl that had crept onto his face by the interruption in your defense. “Friendly words from Sainz there, as always.” he began, his tone dripping with insincerity, “Do you find it degrading that other drivers always have to come to your defense in order to keep your positive reputation, because there are a lot of people that believe you perhaps, ride off the success of others.” 

Your stomach twisted, and if it was from the nausea growing once again or from the sheer audacity of his words, you couldn’t tell. He was essentially implying that the only reason people liked you was because other likable people vouched for you, and not because of your own hard work and valiant achievements. It seems he wanted defense, you were about to show him just how defensive you could be. 

“With all due respect,” you began, voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge, “I don’t defend myself because I don’t have to, because the genuinity of my character extends far past my words.” you paused, thinking about your next words carefully. “My peers defend me because I’ve proven my capabilities time and time again, and they know that one incident doesn’t define my career. However, I don’t think you share the same sentiment, hm?” 

The taunting in your voice was quickly caught on by your PR manager who swiftly grabbed your arm in yet another warning, except this time you couldn’t find it in yourself to care as much. The journalist's eyes narrowed at your words, clearly not expecting such a discourteous response and the tugging of your PR manager's grip against your arm was an obvious nonverbal message to wrap it up but you weren't finished, oh no. That new found anger that had been gnawing at you all race was just beginning to trickle out.

“‘Riding off the success of others.’” Your quoted, voice riddled with humor, “And yet you somehow manage to find me every post race interview. Do you write these question’s down in your little notebook while you watch my multi-race winning car fly past you? Or do you wipe the dust from the camera lens instead?”

He quickly opened his mouth to retort, but before he could, your PR manager intervened, her grip on your arm tightening slightly as she stepped forward. “This interview is over,” she announced firmly, her voice leaving no room for argument. “McLaren will be utalizing the next few days to help Y/n recover for next week's race. If you have any further questions, you can direct them to our media office.”

Your eyes widened in shock at the intervention. You had overstepped your media training a few times before and yet none had ever led to the end of the interview. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised at your PR manager's swift movements as she tugged you back and away from the journalist. “Let’s move on.” Her voice was disapproving but she was obviously trying to remain calm and professional, understanding there was a job to be done. But your anger wasn’t discriminatory, everyone was a potential outlet, and you weren’t having this. “No, I’m finished.” You didn’t even want to participate in media in the first place, this was obligatory. You had done your part and now you were taking charge of the rest of your night. And so you pulled your arm back and made quick haste towards the exit, leading back to your driver room. 

You were only a few meters from the door now, acutely aware of all the eyes watching you retire early from yet another obligation today, when a hand grazing the small of your back pulled you away from the tormenting feeling of the bile rising once again. This time, it was Charles, his sweet face beaming a reassuring smile at you as he began walking in stride towards the exit alongside you. “Mon cheri, that was something else.” 

You couldn’t help but scoff at his words, nausea bubbling once again, expecting yet another lecture from someone else. “If by ‘something else’ you mean a complete disaster, then yeah, I guess.”

Charles kept his tone steady, a touch of amusement in his voice as you both walked in stride. “No, I mean you handled it with a lot of, uhh.. What is the English? Poise.” 

You gave him a skeptical look. “Thanks, but it didn’t feel like handling things with poise, It felt like I was about to lose it.” 

His smile slipped into a small laugh before it fell,  and his bright eyes quickly turned into one’s of worry as he began a once over of your body. “Are you feeling okay?” he began the inevitable conversation. “I’m okay, it’ll pass I'm sure.”

Charles’ brows furrowed down, thick accent sounding with worry as he spoke. “You shouldn’t count on it passing, you should take care of yourself. You’re only gonna have more shit thrown at you if you don’t-”

As sweet as his concern was, you were tired of this conversation today, it was becoming tedious to hear and you really just needed to lie down or something. “-Charles, I really appreciate it and I'll be sure to visit the doctor tomorrow, but I think I’m gonna be sick again, so how about you cover me up to the hallway before I end up in another fight with a reporter, or my head in another bin on TV.”

Your words had Charles’s eyes widening, quickly glancing around from side to side in search of his target who was finishing up from an interview of his own, when your hand came up to press against your mouth, skin turning a tinge green. “Lando!”

The video shook a little as the person on the other end fidgeted with the camera, a slight blur shifting the image and the audio cracking with the movement before the frame finally straightened up. The person took a step back. It was you, which wasn’t all that surprising considering the video had been uploaded onto your own instagram, but it was the first anyone had really heard of you in weeks. 

Ever since your race ending ailment back in Spain, you had essentially gone radio silent. Not posting, not participating in interviews; you had missed 2 more races since then. It was worrisome, especially considering you had assured everyone the day after Spain that you were working on getting better for next week's race, which you never showed up to. 

The races went on and the fans asked about you, the interviewers asked about you too, but it seemed everyone involved in the FIA had no comment on your whereabouts nor your condition. The drivers dodged post interview questions, excelling on to new subjects and only had quick fleeting comments in response to concerned fans around the paddock who were only trying to make sense of it all.

Lando copped the brunt end of it though, scoring a P2 podium in Canada that everyone could more obviously care less about in his post-race interviews. The only topic mentioned was you, your absence from the race and why everyone was so hush-hush about it in the first place. The interviews were so off topic that this time it was Lando who had to leave the media pen early to avoid the questions, though opposingly, McLaren had been the ones to encourage his swift exit.

It was starting to become an issue. People were fretful. Were you still sick? Was it something more serious than you had anticipated and now you couldn’t race anymore?

The view they were looking at suggested that perhaps they were about to find out. 

You retreated away from the camera propped up against what people could only speculate had to be your dressing table, as you found your spot upon the large, luxurious bed the camera was pointing towards. Now cross legged upon it, your body clad in a 2 piece short silky pajama set, finally you began to speak. 

“Hello everyone.” You didn’t sound unwell, not stressed or upset. In fact, there was an edge to your voice that almost seemed cheerful; excited. And yet for now you remained composed, nothing but a small, media trained smile dawning your otherwise expressionless face.

“It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” The sentence was humorous, calling attention to the silence you had afflicted, and the lack of news upon your whereabouts. “Lando and I are finally home in Monaco for summer break, though I have to admit that I’ve actually been in Monaco for a few weeks now. I think some of you might feel that was a bit obvious given my absence.”

There was a high pitched chuckle off screen, it obviously being Lando out of frame as your eyes flickered over to the side with a playful yet mischievous smile, encouraging his reaction with your expression. It was a fleeting moment as your smile once again fell into something a little more vacant before straightening up and continuing. “I know a lot of people have questions, and I do want to apologize for the lack of communication on my end, I’ll explain, I promise but first I also want to say please don’t be mad at any of the other drivers for not speaking out, they were all just respecting my wishes in not saying anything until I was ready.”

There was a small pause as you took a breath, no sound emitting except for the slight breeze wafting through the room, further exemplified by the sway of the sheer curtains. This was so nerve racking, were you about to announce your departure from motorsport? Were you about to reveal a sickness you weren't aware of until now? The silence, though short lived, was deafening. 

“I-” Finally you spoke, but quickly caught it with a bite to your lower lip. It really seemed like you were processing your words, debating how to present your next statement carefully enough. “How do I-?”

Once again your gaze drifted off to the side of the screen, confused and cautious eyes quickly averting into a bright smile before a laugh escaped your mouth. “Don’t look so excited!” 

Lando, obviously beaming, clear by the tone of his voice, cheerfully yelled back, “Do you want me to say it?!”

“No!” you rebutted quickly with a laugh, “I told you I wanted to be the one to announce it, stop trying to take my shine!”

“Then go on with it!” He was so obviously really excited, impatient to finally announce whatever it was that had him so elevated.

“Okay well-” You stuttered for a moment, quickly catching yourself before continuing. “As many of you saw in Spain, I wasn’t feeling too well,-”

“-Hard to miss-.” Landos voice mumbled, a comment in which you swiftly ignored.  

“-And I hadn’t been for a few days leading up to it but I just took it as a stomach bug and planned to go on with it like usual. What I didn’t plan for however, was the doctor's visit I was forced to go to the day after.”

Your eyes glared off to the side once again, feigning annoyance but evidently not actually upset before looking back at the camera with a smile. “The good news is that we are very much aware of what was making me sick.” Your voice was reassuring, eyes slowly beginning to light up as you continued on. “The bad news is that I unfortunately will not be participating in the rest of the 2024 season, or the 2025 one for that matter.”

It was like you could feel the impending shock of everyone watching radiating through the screen despite it being pre recorded because your pause was almost comically dramatic. And yet it was so wholly conflicting, because regardless of the awful news, you didn’t really seem all that upset despite being such a passionate racer, it felt so out of character. This confusion was only exemplified further when your eyes once again drifted to the left, a large smile engulfing your features as you took notice of what had to be Lando's excited expression once more. “Oh don’t look so happy, you’re the one who still gets to race!”

“I’m sorry!” He laughed that high pitched laugh he does when he just can’t hold it back.

Your eyes flickered back to the camera, sitting straight on with a patient yet humorous smile, a single eyebrow cocked as you waited for Landos laughter to simmer. It took a moment, a moment you thought ended a time or two before he began again, but eventually the room became still again as your face grew just a little more in adoration towards the man everyone could see you loved dearly. It was like the energy had shifted just a little, from what felt so playful before, to something a little more familial and warm. 

“I think some of you may have put the pieces together, but for those who haven’t. Well… I’m pregnant!” Your smile was so big and sheepish, so conscious and just a little shy, it almost felt as if you were announcing it to a friend of many years and it was all just so heartwarming. You were okay! More than that, you were happy, and soon everyone else who would watch this video would be too. Lando's happy laugh from beyond the camera at the announcement finally being made was more than enough to express just how joyous the news was for the two of you.

“As heartbreaking as it will be to not be able to competitively race in the upcoming seasons, I’m not actually that sad about having to step down for a little.” You laughed heartily. “I proudly announce that in my place, the very talented Australian driver Oscar Piastri will be filling my position until I'm off from… maternity leave? I guess. That's a first for this sport.”  You laughed.  “But of course they just had to find the best to replace the best.” You quickly glanced over towards Lando out of frame, clearly expecting an agreement that never came. They could only imagine the disapproving look Lando was sending you.

Your expression never changed, but your tone dropped as you spoke darkly. “I’m carrying your child.” You spat, to which a loud “But of course!” sounded in response, followed by a laugh from the both of you.

“Don’t worry, you’ll still be seeing me around the track a lot considering this muppet,” you pointed to your left, “still gets to race.”

“Don’t be jealous,” the soft voice came from off screen. 

“No, I’ll confidently admit it, I’m so jealous.” You pouted, but the warmth in your eyes belied the playful tone in your voice.

Lando’s hand appeared in the frame for a brief moment, gently squeezing your shoulder before disappearing off-camera again. “We’ll be back out there together soon enough.”

You nodded, your smile returning as you glanced back at the camera, feeling a surge of excitement for what was to come. “In the meantime, I’m looking forward to supporting the team from a different angle. It’s going to be a new experience, but I’m excited to do this as…”

“-As a mother?” Lando finished with a knowing smirk.

“As a mother.” You laughed, a loud one from Lando soon sounded to match your own, one so joyous it left you beaming. Suddenly, Lando jolted in frame, clearly excited as he leaned over the bed to tackle you from your sitting position down into a hug, leaving you both falling back onto the sheets. “Oh my god Lando!” You shout, a hand quickly moving to shield your lower stomach. “God! Nevermind guys, I think Lando just tackled the baby out of me, guess I’ll be seeing you all from my McLaren in Austria.”

“Oh!” Lando gasped. “Not funny!” 

[freebreadmoon]

is there anyway you can write a cute, fluffy little story for Walker Scobell?

YES OMG I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE BC I HAVE MIDTERMS

warnings: fluff, reader plays annabeth (i love leah dont come for me), no use of y/n, reader and walker aren’t dating but are obvi crushing

requests are open!!

You and Walker were filming a buzzfeed puppy interview, sitting in the middle of the floor.

Walker sat with his legs crisscrossed, smiling wide at the brown spotted dog that nuzzled his leg. “Is it on? Oh, hi, I’m Walker Scobell, and I play Percy Jackson.”

“Hi,” you introduced yourself, “I play Annabeth Chase,” you picked up the fluffy fured black one that was by your foot, “and your watching buzzfeed!” You put a thumbs up at the camera, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.

“Wait I wanted to say it, I’m literally the main character—“

“But I’m the best character. Walker, you can say it at Vanity Fair.” He rolled his eyes at you, smiling slightly.

“Okay, moving on! um…what’s the question? What was your favorite scene to film…um…oh thats a hard one. I’m gonna say…either the fight with the Ares kids in capture the flag, or falling out of the arch. The harness thing was annoying to put on, but the other parts were fun.” Walker was only half paying attention, preoccupied by the dogs.

“I think the tunnel of love scene, or the one where Annabeth pushes Percy in the water, ‘cause I got to push Walker really hard.” You glanced at him, watching the smile curl onto his face.

“Yeah. We did like 15 takes of that because she kept laughing.” Walker laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, she laughed a lot. We had to retake lots of stuff ‘cause of her, especially the tunnel of love scene. The boat flipped and she wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shifted closer to you, messing with the puppy you’re holding.

“Oh! the next question…what’s your opinion on each other? Um…walker is the best blonde dude ever i think. like he’s literally my kid i swear, and he was honestly the best choice for percy. i think he’s the reason i even got to be annabeth, im really greatful for him. Aryan is super sweet and cool, he’s my best best friend, we do the stupidest things together, and I can’t imagine a world we aren’t honorary siblings.” You scratched behind a puppy’s ear, letting it lick you.

“Well I was just gonna say you’re awesome but…I guess I think we make a great team on-screen as well as off-screen. She’s a true friend. If it weren't for her, I don't know what I'd do, y'know? She’s like my very own real life Annabeth." He glanced up at you subtly, wanting to gauge your reaction, smiling in victory when he noticed the red tint to your cheeks.

“The…the next one says, how do you feel about fan support? is it overwhelming? Well, my answer is yes, sometimes. Especially with people who are really like into the book to the point where they hated the casting over looks.” You had started to speak a lot quieter as Walker drifted closer, trying to get the puppy off your lap.

“I don’t think much of it.” Walker shurgs. “Only really the edits that I see anyway, those are fun.” He smiles encouragingly at you , finally meeting your eyes.

“…Yeah. The edits.” You smile at him, referring to the ship edits. You’d talked about it in multiple interviews, and you had a favorites folder for them on Tiktok. You raised an eyebrow at Walker, who continued to move closer until his head was on your lap, giggling softly and starting pet his hair like you did the puppys fur.

“Okay, last question…have there been any memorable moments on set? Um…probably when i first met her. I just got the feeling she was gonna be Annabeth, she gave me this ‘what is he doing?’ Look, and it just clicked.” He stayed with his head on your lap, turning so his head is on your stomach when puppies come and attack him with licks.

“They think you’re one of them!” You push him off a little so the puppies can get to him. “And my answer…um…I think when Walker gave me the piece of banana that was in my hair in the show. He kinda just tied it in and left my set trailer, and it stuck. So if you guys wondered what the weird blue fabric in Annabeth’s hair was, it was not in fact a design choice, it was a Percy choice.” You turn so the camera can see the small braid in your hair with the bandanna piece at the end.

“And Percy’s got one too, if you look hard enough.” He lifts one of his feet, showing the vans he wore during filming, and the flimsy piece of bandanna tied through his top shoe hole. You shake your head, laughing at his insistence in staying with his head in your lap.

While you layed on his bed, you scrolled through your fyp, stopping when you see the familiar scene of you two in the buzzfeed room, with his head in your lap. Nodding your head to the song in the edit as you scrolled through the comments.

“IRL percabeth?” He questioned from beside you. You looked at him, not realizing he had started paying attention to you, jumping to get your phone from him.

“No, I’m commenting! And reposting!” He laughed, rolling away from you. You got off the bed behind him, giving up taking the phone and blinking when he simply commented ‘real’.

“Well, so much for ‘it’ll blow over’.” You rolled your eyes, knowing the dating allegations will only get worse after this. Walker smiled triumphantly, waiting for the responses to come in.

taglist: @persassyxo @diorlorenzo @ilovewalkerscobell @paytonthereader @platypusbearrr @kissatelier @riptidelor

[vethale]

Incoming Marble Sky theory about the Marmors' origin planet and more! Spoilers ahead!

I think if we ever get to see their original planet, it might be a dark place (literally and metaphorically), with hives or cities built within ant-like cave systems. Their society also seems to work like those of ants with a queen (Moon), workers and drones.

I think the fact that the Marmors use a form of ecolocation rather than our traditional eyesight might imply that on their original planet, sight as we know it is not a viable option. Their planet might either have little to no light, making eyes redundant, or too much, which would also cause the same problem. I think their fur coloring might also be proof of this, as they seem to display bright colors with no patterns. (Patterns usually help animals, especially predators, blend into their environment, because a blotch of a single color is usually easy to spot). However, there is also a possibility that their coloring might be a result of them becoming the dominant species: We see this with domesticated animals- think cows or cats, with white patches of fur, that make them easier to spot. When colors no longer affect their survival, new color variations tend to pop up.

I also think the fact that they are bipedal (with tails) also tells us that like humans, they might have started walking on all fours and then went up. This allows the brain to become larger, because the neck can hold up more weight, boosting their intelligence. Animals that walk on all fours are usually limited in this aspect because the neck muscles do all the work, so their heads can't get heavier.

The existence of tails might imply that those are still required for balancing purposes. Humans used to have tails but we kinda didn't need them and they went away, but the tail bone still exists. The fact that Marmors still needed them might imply that they still had to climb a lot in their original planet - maybe they live on trees (there's some ants that build their hives hanging from them! Super cool tbh) or they build their homes on cliffs/mountains.

I personally think them living in mountains or cave systems is the more likely option. In the comic we have already gotten the comparison with ants, who tend to build their little hives with tunnel systems going in all directions. This would make their tails useful for climbing, as well as their special eyesight and connections useful for navigating the hive. I mean, a connection like the one we have seen in the latest update is not only useful for hunting but also for their hives, as they can quickly figure out where more "manpower" is needed vs where there's already enough of them in one place.

Also, they have both sharp claws and teeth. Obviously those teeth are stylized in the comic, but they seem very very sharp. Definitely made for ripping and shredding. So it's very likely that the Marmors are obligate carnivores, meaning that, unlike dogs or bears, they can ONLY eat meat. I mention this because those claws would also be useful for hunting and disabling prey BUT connecting this to the cave system theory: Those claws are big and sharp, whoch might also be useful for digging. The giant anteater, for example, has some seriously sharp claws. This thing does NOT hunt other animals, besides ants and termines lmao, but uses those sharp claws to dig into the really hard ground. And those claws are SHARP, boy. They use them regularly to wars off and ERASE jaguargs. Yes, jaguars. So maybe these sharp claws might be tools AND weapons for the Marmors, useful for deleting your prey and digging into the ground!

Going back to the ant comparison: ants society usually has a queen, her simps, and the worker ants. The queen lays the eggs. If those are fertilised by the male drones, they become female workers but if not, they become male drones (the simps lmao). Ecliptica mentions that she is tall because she is a female AND the center of their network. Obviously these are aliens, but I think we can draw parallels: she might be their queen, the only one that reproduces -which would also explain their "children belong to everyone and noone" attitude"- while the rest might simply be the workers. I say workers, even if they are male, because I think the drones might actually be something else. We have seen smaller Marmors like Shepherd's assistants. Now, they might just be small or younger, BUT they could also be the lower ranking drones.

So, to sum up: I think Marmors come from a planet with little light, where they build their hives/societies in ant-like cave systems, digging into the ground. They might also have an ant-like society, that revolves around their queen, the workers and the lower ranking drones, where everyone but the queen is a male.

[c-is-for-circinate]

It feels like there's this narrative that fandom keeps wanting to explore, with Steve Harrington, about this very specific type of martyrdom where self-sacrifice is an expression of a lack of self-worth. And, like, yes, write the narrative that's meaningful to you, and yes ok Steve does admittedly get beaten up a lot, but -- legitimately I do not think this narrative is actually Steve's story.

Like, without gendering things too much, there is something in the Steve fanon that I keep seeing that's so reflective of the specific kind of sacrifice and societal pressures exerted on girls, specifically -- this story of 'you make yourself worthy and worthwhile by carving pieces out of yourself', of believing that you must always give and never receive to justify the space you take up in the world. Yes, boys can experience this same pressure (and obviously trans and nb people of all genders run into it as well! sometimes a lot!), but especially in the mid-1980s cultural context where Stranger Things takes place, it's just...really not likely to be a dominant narrative for Steve to be operating under? It doesn't even really match the Steve we see on screen -- who is happy to make sacrifices for the sake of others, yeah, when needed, but who's not particularly kind or giving unless somebody asks first.

And Steve does get hurt a lot on other people's behalf! And this is a problem! It's just a completely different problem than the one fandom keeps writing.

Steve, and I'm going to say this forever, is a story about toxic masculinity, which the show may or may not even know it's writing. The archetypes influencing Steve's character as it shows up on the screen (and the stories and messages that Steve would actually be surrounded by in his actual life) are not deconstructions of suffering heroes who never should have had to fight in the first place and were destroyed by it. That's the Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. Steve's not Buffy. Steve's cultural context is Indiana Jones.

Steve is The Guy! And part of being The Guy is that you're expected to take the hits -- not because Steve is less important than the women-and-children he's supposed to protect, but because, the story says, he will get less hurt. Why should Steve get in between Billy and Lucas? Because Steve is an eighteen-year-old athlete and Lucas is in middle school, and of the two of them, Steve actually stands a chance. (And yes, Steve got badly hurt there, and Max had to save him -- but if Lucas, if Max had taken that beating they would not have been running through those tunnels later.) Was somebody else better-qualified to dive down to the uncertain bottom of a cold lake in the middle of the night? Steve doesn't list his credentials there as a way of justifying some ideal of martyrdom; he is literally the most likely person on the boat not to drown.

And make no mistake: when Steve's pulled into the Upside-Down, he survives the bats long enough for backup to get there. Realistic or not, he's apparently tough enough that he's physically capable of hiking barefoot through hell without much slowing down. Steve is the tank for the same reason as any tank: because he literally has been shown to have the most hit points in the group. You cannot honestly engage with Steve in this context without dealing with the fact that he's right.

AND THIS IS A PROBLEM! This is still a problem! But it's not the same problem that fandom seems to expect. It's not an expression of caretaking or the need for self-sacrifice; it's not an issue with Steve valuing himself less. It's an issue of toxic masculinity so ingrained that Steve doesn't even recognize he's suffering from it, because one of the tenets of toxic masculinity is that Big Strong Guys don't suffer. It's just a concussion, it's fine, he'll walk it off. It's not that Steve thinks he deserves to get hurt, or even that he's less deserving of safety than the others. It's that absolutely nothing in his cultural context allows him to admit that he can be hurt in a significant way.

There's still so much tension that can be gotten out of this situation, I swear. There's so much that can be explored in writing! Hell, the show itself is deconstructing some of this trope, believe it or not, by giving us a Steve who absolutely can take all the hits thrown his direction but still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his life. It turns out that doing his job as The Guy is only mildly helpful in horror movie situations (mostly by buying time for smarter, squishier people to do the damage from behind him), and somewhere a little worse than useless in everyday life.

But Steve does not go out of his way to self-sacrifice, he really doesn't. He just does his job. He's The Guy. Of course he's not going to let a kid or a girl or some scared skinny nerd who just learned about monsters yesterday take the hits. Of course Steve's got this.

[mbsneur]

Jealousy

Niamh Charles x Reader

i know i haven't posted any fics for a long time and i'm very sorry but i've been very busy lately and i have a lot on my mind and i ask you to write me ideas and feedback <3

Warnings: Smut18+

My Masterlist

a cold day in london the wind is whistling and you're sitting in your thick winter jacket at kingsmeadow watching your girlfriend play her league game the wind is ruffling your hair which is sticking out of your hood chelsea are leading 3-0 against aston villa and the game is slowly coming to an end which makes you happy because you just want to lie on the couch with niamh

the last minute begins and exactly on time after 4 minutes of stoppage time the referee blows the whistle they slap hands on the pitch and some friends see each other again

niamh caught sight of you and a smile crossed her lips she waved at you and you waved back with clenched teeth she came jogging slightly towards to you, you stood up and when she was with you you took her for a quick kiss and hugged her tightly after a few seconds she pulled away from you and looked you in the eyes

"we are invited for dinner and drinks tonight" she says her loose hair flying lightly in the wind

you sigh tearfully and catch a smirking look from niamh

"who invited us and where will it be" you say slightly annoyed and roll your eyes as you would much rather be alone with niamh

"millie or rather her sister she own the pub we all wanted to get together again and you love me so you'll come with me right?" she asks sweetly and laughing

you sigh one last time and nod at her reluctantly niamh immediately starts grinning again and gives you one last quick kiss before she pulls away from you for good

"see you in the corridor in 30 minutes you can wait inside it's warmer" she says and walks towards the players tunnel

//

you had been standing in front of the changing rooms for what felt like an eternity waiting for your girlfriend until you saw a familiar face aggie running towards you with a happy expression

"hey y/n how are you" she says with a smile and takes you in her arms you return her hug and your conversation quickly turns into small talk

"and you two are also at millie's sister's pub tonight?" she asks, leaning against the wall because you've been talking for more than 15 minutes

"yeah niamh is literally forcing me" you say with a smile and finally see niamh come out of the cubicles you knew niamh could be a jealous person when it comes to you and maybe tonight you'll see it as a little revenge that she's not cuddling with you on the couch and watching films

she comes to you with slight tension "have you seen each other again after a long time?" asks niamh and pulls you slightly towards her by your arm

"yes it was nice to talk to aggie again she's still the same" you say with a laugh and catch a playful nudge from aggie

"well, we'll see each other soon" says aggie and waves after you

niamh turned to you and gave you a kiss on the forehead and then on the cheek "you know how much i love you right" niamh says slightly exhausted and you put your arm around her neck to pull her closer to you "yes i know is someone exhausted?" you ask with a small grin and niamh grunts softly

"i'm wide awake let's go" she says and pushes away from you, you laugh after her shaking your head and trot after her the cold shakes you as niamh opens the big door to the outside you literally wobble on your feet and walk a little faster to get to the car

niamh opens the door for you you get in and niamh puts her bag in the boot the driver's door opens and a freezing niamh gets in she shivers before she closes the door and enters the address to the pub into her sat nav

niamh's hand didn't leave your thigh the whole journey

"what did you talk to aggie about?" she asked, looking at you with a raised eyebrow

"not much whats happened in the last few weeks like some stuff why?" you say with a slight grin, knowing that niamh isn't quite so happy about it

"i'm just asking, maybe she had something important to tell you" she says and looks back at the street

you give her a gentle nudge on the shoulder "i can talk to someone without it being important" you say and look ahead in confusion

//

when you arrived at the pub you received a friendly welcome you get on well with everyone as niamh often takes you to meetings

it was small and cosy a small restaurant with a bar you were there alone because millie's sister opened today just for you all

there was delicious food and most of the conversations centred around football and today's game where niamh was of course fully involved when there were these conversations she often forgot you were there and just focused on her teammates

you talked to hannah because she became a very good friend for you you could laugh a lot with her and also have other topics besides football

//

as time went on it got a bit crazier many started drinking and dancing

"baby do you want a cocktail or maybe something else?" niamh asked lovingly and gave you a kiss on the cheek

"yes a daiquiri" you said and smiled back niamh nodded at you and went straight to the bar

shortly after niamh left, aggie came up to you "hey so we meet again" she smiled at you and you slid a little to the side so she could sit next to you

"hey how was your evening so far?" you asked, glancing briefly at the bar where you saw niamh, who had already noticed the two of you and was looking at you through clenched teeth you thought about and slid a little closer to aggie

"it was good the food was good and i feel pretty comfortable with everyone now" she says smiling and noticing your approach you have the feeling that aggie has had her eye on you for a while now and you use this to your advantage

after a few minutes of talking niamh came back and sat close to the other side of you she grabbed you by the hips and pulled you close to her front

"i- i don't want to disturb you any further i can go back to the others" says aggie, slightly unsettled

"why stay with us" niamh said sarcastically and lightly pinched your ribs which made you sigh "we didn't want to stay that long anyway and since you get along well" she added and pinched you harder this time

aggie continued the conversation but you didn't really know what she was talking about you sipped your cocktail from time to time to hide your insecure face niamh's hands wandered over your front and you were sure aggie could see it

after a few minutes aggie is tapped on the shoulder and turns around eagerly at this moment niamh pulls you back jerkily by your hood "behave yourself or i'll fuck you on the table in front of everyone" she whispers in your ear and you moan softly "niamh i-" you try to justify yourself but are interrupted by niamh "did you hear me" she says now and you just nod

"it's your fault you could have just lain on the couch with me" you say snappishly and niamh takes a deep breath

aggie turns back to you and you move away from niamh's arms to get closer to aggie

"niamh come to us" sam calls from a corner and niamh stands up reluctantly before she leaves she looks back at you "i've got you in my sights" she whispers to you and you smile devilishly

and niamh wasn't lying her eyes never left you the whole time

//

after a while, niamh was visibly drunk and you were now sitting alone in the corner of the room, swiping on your mobile phone until niamh came over to you and half lay down on top of you

you laugh and try to push her away her swollen wet lips attack your neck "niamh we are among humans stop it" you say laughing and her horny drunken look meets your eyes

"you're so pretty baby" she says in a funny voice and touches you everywhere her hands can reach

you let yourself fall into their kisses and almost forget that there are still people around you two

"I want you right here and now or do you want aggie to fuck you instead" she says seriously and her pupils flicker

"maybe she would have stayed on the couch with me" you say cheekily and niamh's jaw drops

"we're leaving now" she says and walks away from you she says goodbye to the rest first before she pulls you up from the corner and passes all her teammates unnoticed

you go outside where niamh's car is parked she opens the back seat door directly "what is it you want me to sit in the back now" you say smirking slightly and are annoyed by her behaviour

"no you will do was i say and lie there like a good girl with your legs open" she says in a gentle tone and gives you a little push

you look at her confused and she moves her head towards the back seat and wiggles her eyebrows you do was you are told and sit on the edge of the seat

you were about to lie down but before you had the chance niamh's tense hand grabbed your neck and pushed you down firmly

with her other hand she closed the door and her lips were immediately on yours her kisses were wet and aggressive she tasted of rum her free hand found its way to one of your nipples

she let go of your lips and looked at you humiliated "oh naughty girl no underwear?" you were a bit uncomfortable you weren't wearing any underwear because you thought you would be back straight home after the game.

you try to look away in shame but niamh turns your head back towards her to kiss you fiercely her tongue plays and bites on yours

your body becomes weak from so many touches but none that sets you free

after a few more kisses, niamh finally pulls your trousers down her hand finds its way to your knee and pushes your legs further apart

"I hope you're wet" she says lightly and you grab her hair to press her closer to you "so wet niamh please"

her hand caresses your inner thigh and her middle finger lightly pulls your panties to the side you moan softly and press your hips against her hand

one of her fingers plunges into you which immediately speeds up your breathing she is painfully slow and your hips sway in time with her hand

"fuck you're so wet is it because of aggie?" she asks and you look at her with glassy eyes

"no because of you please i need you" you say tearfully and press your hips closer to niamh

"oh because of me?" she asks and looks at you questioningly "tell me what you need" she adds

"one more finger niamh i beg" you say

niamh accepted your request and poked you with two fingers your chest basket rises and falls quickly

her fingers speed up and you start moaning against her the car is hazy with sex and niamh looks down at you

her fingers press hard against your walls and your body tenses up against hers

"fuck feels so good" you moan

"who makes you feel so good mh" says niamh and her thumb presses against your clitoris

"niamh you fuck- you" you moan loudly and your hips twitch wildly

your hands scrape against her scalp and your moans become pornographic niamh's hand is still firmly on your breast, pinching it

your legs begin to tremble slightly and close tightly around her hips

"just like that fuck niamh you fuck me so good" you moan and niamh takes your lower lip firmly between her teeth

you shriek in pain as she bites harder and feel a knot forming in your stomach

"niamh i'm so close so fucking close" you half scream

"wait" she says and you look at her shakily "who do you belong to"

"i belong to you niamh please" you say and tears flow down your cheek

"who makes you cum like that" she says a little more seriously this time your eyes roll backwards "niamh you please let me come i can't hold on much longer"

"then come for me my good girl" niamh pushes harder into you to bring you over the edge

after a few thrusts you cum hard over her hand your body shakes wildly against her you let out a few moans with her name on it

she removes her fingers from you and wipes them on her trousers your body is still weak and has not yet recovered from your orgasm

she takes your thighs in her hand and pushes you upwards so that she has more access to you

without warning and still with a pulsating core her mouth is immediately between your legs you scream and jerk around wildly and try to push her away from you by her hair niamh pushes harder against you her tongue pushes hard against your clotoris and sucks on it

the pain turns into lustful moans and your head bounces against the window pane niamh is good with her tongue and she takes every opportunity to prove it to you

you hear how wet you are and you realise how close you come again because of the overstimulation and the way she fucks you

niamh hasn't stopped sucking your clit for a second you bob against her again

"niamh i'm gonna come don't stop oh my fuck"

niamh hums against you which gives you the consent to come your body tenses up and you come quietly and trembling

she stands up and you immediately start laughing "you're so jealous we were just talking" you say and she looks at you angrily

"you're still mine" she laughs

i hope you like it <333

[zarnzarn]

About the Reverse Odyssey AU (love it btw), do you think any of the Ithacans start praying to Hephastus? Just in case they can't get Odysseus back to human form, at least they can ask the God of inventing how to build a new palace that's half underwater.

oh god I have to continue that.... i have 3000 wips that ive gotten inspo for all at once are descending on me guys plus I am actively getting a master's degree bear w me for a few days

also OMG fuck yes!!! Ithaka is much more involved in this than in canon since a. they r not down 600 people who are immensely loyal to odysseus b. their king made a direct sacrifice FOR THEM literally no one else would have done this no other king would ever let himself be cursed to save his kingdom c. it's been 10 years and they all find it unjust because they'd all seen him weep as he left and know he and Penelope missed each other like crazy.

(plus he was very young when he took the throne! imagine a 13 year old telling u what to do and then being right. the people of Ithaka must have been very fond of him and most would have seen him as son-adjacent)

so one person has this idea one day, and they take it to the architects, who take it to the blacksmiths, who take it to the ruler of Ithaka. She pursues her lips as she looks at it, teeth grinding at the assumption that they would succeed but not overcome the curse, but allows them to do it.

So they start.

It is harder than their initial ideas demanded. First there is the matter of structures that do not stay down long enough to stick together, then there is the matter of how to secure them. Their dreams of beautiful underwater sculptures fall through as they struggle to conjure up even a basic shelter, even in the summer calm of the waters.

So, desperate and frustrated, they pray to Hephastus.

Ithaka is famous for its dedication to the goddess Athena, most of its temples under the king's ten-year rule being lovingly dedicated to the wisdom goddess. A separate group of smaller temples honors the other gods in the main town; but the main palace and most houses are painted blue and owl feathers and trinkets and sculptures are sold in the main market- the most beautiful of artistry is reserved for Pallas Athene alone.

But the blacksmiths and architects work together to build a small shrine worthy of the inventor god; with hidden catches and rotating idols and the best of their tools and ideas burnt at the fire kept burning at the base of it.

And after a few weeks- Hephaestus blesses them.

(He cannot make up for what he tried to do to Athena in his drunkenness and on Posiedon's inescapable goading. He was young and stupid and hurt and proud and drugged- he thinks she knows this, and has long since let it pass enough to stand beside him without a second thought; but will never be able to get over his shame- so the least he can do is this.)

But Ithaka's artists wake up with the same idea in mind and rush to the shrine in the early hours of the morning to give their thanks. Then they start building- floating large stones down at the far end to mark the range, until they have raised the wall enough to drain out the waters for them to work inside. They work fast, laying down the walls within days, until it joins to where the courtyard of the main palace creeps down the side of the cliff. From the palace itself, a tunnel is dug in the main room, wrapping around the mountain through the softer rock deposits, then travelling down to the sea.

They have the blueprints Odysseus himself had commissioned for his palace, and try to add in the carvings and structures accordingly. They dare not risk more than the smallest of owls carved into the stone entrance, wary of Posiedon's wrath at his rival. They work hard, encouraged by the people, helped by the Trojan heroes themselves- and strangely, their hands never feel tired and the ideas never stop coming.

The first test comes at the start of the monsoons.

The storms roll in angry and strong, battering against the island of Ithaka as furiously as always. When it is done, the architects are dismayed to find their hard-made palace flooded and destroyed, stone displaced or missing, with one collapse of the outside barrier causing three more within.

Dejected, they burn their tools at the temple forge once more, and then go to bed.

That next morning, the youngest of them wakes up with the thought- what if we used metal to hold them together?

The royal family gives them funding once more, and they commission for marble pillars to be sent from the mainland in exchange for their raw materials; these they sink to the bottom and drain the water once more. These pillars are erected and melted into the shifting sand with hot liquid metal, until they fuse into the rock. The roofed ceiling is replaced with live kelp and seaweed, attached to the top of the pillars and bound together. The walls are rebuilt quicker- with more labour coming in when they look closer to success than before, men with guilty eyes and stubborn determination ready to do the back-breaking, risky work.

The whole island holds its breath this time, as the monsoon rolls in and the ships return. The storms roll in and-

The wall has fallen completely, leaving the surroundings unsuitable for them to put it back up, letting the water back in.

But the building stands.

The celebration lasts all day and night, with all the workers being given a place of honor at the palace table itself for dinner. Even the royal family themselves are happy, for all the disappointment of another year of failure, and are grateful in a way that satisfies them more than the money ever could.

Yet there is still the second test- the tunnel to connect to the palace.

The main digging is complete; but as they reach the end they realize they do not know how they will open it to the sea without losing men to the outburst of the sea pouring back in. The Queen twists her lips when they go to her with the problem, thinking.

"This is such a bad idea," One of the men whispers.

"Shh," Eurylochus says, striking another spear into the final barrier. Two men come forward with hammers and push it in further, and they wait until the call comes in from the surface far above from the diver outside that the spear has gone through. "Don't tempt fate."

"You are such a nice, sane man, Eurylochus," One of the men moans despairingly, and he smiles, small. "Why are our royals all mad?"

He laughs, remembering a similar conversation from many years ago. He slips the rope around the loop at the end of the spear, and feels the nostalgia twist into sorrow once more, missing his captain, his general, his brother, his king, his friend. If only he had never kept that cursed bag. If only he had the courage to step forward first, not frozen in fear and shouldered the cost instead like a soldier should for their king, for Odysseus. Had not made mistake after mistake further, ordering Odysseus out of their reach in his panic to get him to the water, not being prepared with a net to catch him both times they'd seen him after.

He kept one on his belt now, at all times.

But until the skies and seas cleared, there was nothing to do except make sure Ody had a home to return to; that he could reach.

"Let's go," Eurylochus exhales, and they all grab the ropes attached to the dozens of spears and make their way back up the winding tunnel as slowly as they can, careful not to step on even one rope or pull too hard, and risk spelling doom for them all. Hearts pounding as they walk in the eerily silent tunnel, the dark taunting them, urging them to run. But they hold their nerve and come out at the pool created inside the main court.

Eurylochus climbs out last from the pool, and smiles up at Ctimene. She looks beautiful in the Ithakan jewels once more, holding herself with more grace and confidence than much richer princesses ever had, anklets tinkling.

She nods and then turns to the rest. "PULL!"

As one, the ropes spring up tight, straining until the spears come loose and men go falling to the floor with shouts. For a second nothing happens.

Then they hear the roaring.

He knows it's water, Eurylochus knows it has to be water- but it still sounds like a hoard of monsters, the shouting of a battlefield, the cyclops when he stole the lives of their friends in his fury. He can't help grabbing his wife and pulling her back, shouting for a retreat as the water rushes through the tunnel and bursts out in a terrible din into the pool, filling it to the top and then overspilling off the sides immediately.

For a heart-stopping moment, Eurylochus watches the water catch onto the feet of the people around, rising and rising, and he remembers Poseidon's cruel smile as he crippled and cursed Eurylochus' brother and thinks it's going to drown us all-

And then the tide recedes, and the water crawls back with it.

The plan worked. The palace of Ithaka now creeps down into the sea, enticing their wayward king to find his way back home, swim back to them and be happy, even if they never solved his curse.

All they have to do now is wait.

[slowd1ving]

Hi! I love your lookism fics, I would love to see your take on Seongji Yuk x gn reader. Something sweet and simple would be great!

I see that you like using science metaphors and im curious to how many can you use in one fic. I’m a complete chemistry nerd 🤓 😂

THE MUNDANE . 　⁺ ✦ SEONGJI YUK

In which an amateur stargazer finds that no, they do not teach biology in Cheonliang, and yes, gravity does in fact affect everything with mass. woah... gravitational fields.... woah inverse square law... woah, G.... ik you probably wanted more chemistry but I couldn't resist the physics gnawing away/// arghhh pairing: seongji yuk + gn reader warnings: prejudice (quite literally lookism) wc: 1.3k

LOOKISM MASTERLIST

MASTERLIST ・゜・NAVIGATION

There’s a monster living in the Cheonliang mountains. 

A flutter of cloying kindness greets you when you first pull up to the rural village: tires burning on summer asphalt, senseless droning of cicadas, and warm rain seeping through your thin clothes. No rhyme or reason as to why you decided on this particular village to stop by; though, the rhyme might just be the hiccuping couplet of your pulse. Specifically, this pair of beats as your motorcycle drives past the tunnel; heavy, like two black holes encountering each other for the first time. Spinning, spinning. As the wheels on your bike do, naturally. 

Six fingers and toes, he’s cursed by the gods! Hark, my children—

Newton’s theory of gravitation dictates any particle with matter attracts any other with a force inversely proportional to the square of the distance between them. This is the inverse square law. It’s used for practical and theoretical applications, but it’s pretty useful when considering why people are drawn to something when they are close to it. Emotionally, physically, empathetically. Psychologically. See, once one begins to increase the proximity of two souls, there is a certain degree of attraction that occurs consequently. 

Pray should you ever encounter this one, for he is but a merciless, mad beast.

It’s a stagnated hum that twines through the fields. Little kids begin the verse, and their elders finish it while you leisurely drive past. Over and over. They play hopscotch to the rhythm in their secluded playgrounds, clap their small hands to the beat, and seem to have no eerie feelings behind their bright smiles. A distorted tale, wound through with the modest price of one person’s dignity. There’s a basis for every tale, after all—bitterly warped to suit the storyteller’s perspective. 

Do not pity the one abandoned by all. 

Thus, when you begin the winding slopes through the fields and up around the mountains, it reduces the distance between you and the epicentre. You trust your gut. You believe (mostly) that what compels you to park your motorcycle on this particular trail is no madness, but rather a tangible, logical reason. A scientific one, if you will. You’re a mass, the monster of Cheonliang certainly is a mass—thus gravity objectively binds you both. 

It’s not entirely implausible to suggest the rumours entice you as much as anything, but the heavy telescope bound to your vehicle is as good a reason as any to stop by this eve. And that: the buzz in your very cells, that seem to divide simply to tug you in the direction of the sprawled forest. Stargazing in Cheonliang it is, then. 

Despite your idle curiosity, you don’t go looking: quietly setting up your equipment in a clearing where the breeze flows cleanly, like fragile forgiveness in a peaceful room. It’s a saccharine solitude—as sweet as tanghulu when you close your eyes. 

“It’s dangerous.” Those are the first words you hear in this village that aren’t blighted by eerie insinuation. Here, where the mountain is solitary and sepulchral, that is the only time you find someone who isn’t the real monster in this mired town. Human, flesh and blood and warm. 

“Isn’t everything?” You peer through the eyepiece experimentally, focusing on the calm tide in his voice—

“No need t’be a smartass.” His cadence becomes slightly rougher as you hear a dull thump; by the movement of syllables, you’d judge he just leaned against a tree. “Was a piece of friendly advice.”

Hmm. You look away from the sky that’s somehow cleared up—miserable grey giving way to faint periwinkle, then atrament smattered with incandescent freckles—then at the stranger peering right back at you. 

“What should I be wary of, then?” There’s a relaxed sort of ease in your body, one you’re unfamiliar with. 

He stares at you askance, as though you’re an idiot. 

“Strangers,” he answers brusquely, pointing at himself. “Haven’t you heard the rumours about this place?”

“Oh.” You turn back to the equipment, leaning down to bring the height of the scope up comfortably. Stars, you think dreamily. “That stupid song? Here I thought you’d say boars or something.”

“Stupid song?” he echoes. “And you still went up?”

Six digits on his left hand as it sways downwards, six on the right hand nestled in his pocket. He’s tall, so much so that anyone would feel intimidated staring up at the guy. Close—he’s close by, which is perhaps why you gravitate towards him. Two masses, feeling greater force with greater proximity. This was the epicentre that drew you here. 

“Is biology class illegal here or something?” you counter incredulously. “Do I need to pay attention to fear mongering?”

“No,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “I guess you don’t.”

It’s strange. Your first encounter with Seongji Yuk can only be classified as abnormal. Gazing at the massive bodies scattered across the heavens, it’s perhaps common sense that the man next to you interests you as much as those heavenly giants. He’s closer, after all—kneeling down beside you so he can peek up at stars just as large as him. 

Maybe it’s fate. Maybe it’s simply science that ties the two of you together. He gives you his name, you offer yours in return. Seongji Yuk. Lying in the grass with damp seeping into your shirt, you ramble about astrophysics, while he carefully coats fruits in molten sugar. Shards as sharp as the words at the base of the mountain, though far sweeter. 

He’s cautious—you can feel his eyes on you as you sit on his wooden steps. In fact, his eyes trail after you when dawn breaks and it’s time to move on to your original destination. 

“I’ll come visit,” you vow, for the cycle of orbit has already begun. Two masses have drawn closer to each other, and naturally begin the spin round their counterpart. 

“No one told you about stranger danger?” You’re too damn trusting: haloed in ditzy stars, the type in cartoons when characters hit their heads. Except it’s permanent, and you don’t look stupid, but rather awash in their glow. 

“Everything’s dangerous,” you evade sheepishly, and that’s that. 

Summer comes and goes, but it’s fine not bringing your telescope in the chill of autumn. After all, you’ve found something equally as captivating to stare at. Inky eyes, dotted with such a shine that it looks like a star’s emerged rather than a pupil. 

It’s as if the year is put into distillation—monthly visits condensing into fortnightly ones, then weekly ones, before you’re driving the hour down to this place every few days. He’s made you a little space in his house: one where you can snooze on a spare futon with little worry for safety. For there’s no place more secure in a ‘monster’ lair than by the side of a so-called ‘monster’. 

“Quit staring,” he warns, matter-of-factly while the axe collides with the wood on the stump—cleaved neatly in two, almost too cleanly. 

“You’re pretty, I just can’t help it,” you sigh, leaning back on the creaky porch. There’s a book by your side: a thick text filled with particles and numbing quanta. 

You’re strange. He’s had this thought for a while, but especially today. In fact, you may be more supernatural than he, for each time you say such things, his heart skips one or two beats. Like clockwork, the mechanical nature of your spell is guaranteed: mouth going somewhat dry, ears seeping with a faint crimson, eyebrows creasing minutely. 

Why? 

“Have you seen yourself?” you counter incredulously, and that is when he realises he did not keep his thoughts silent. “You’ve literally got stars in your eyes, man. You….”

Ah. It’s moments like these where he feels so utterly ordinary; listening to you ramble on about things he doesn’t particularly understand, just like anyone else his age. 

It’s nice being bound to someone like this: close to another, experiencing the gravity that draws two people together for himself. 

Science is a perfectly plausible thing to believe in, after all. 

[ts1m1kas]

Original Ask: reader is sergio ramos's niece ( around gavi's age ) and during the sevilla vs barcelona match she is seen comforting her uncle when he decides to introduce her to gavi, and they hit off, sergio of course approves because gavi is literally his demon child 🤪 (@findingnemosworld)

Word Count: 471 words

(author's note: i had so much fun writing this, i hope you all enjoy it !!)

For Y/N, being the niece of Sergio Ramos was the best thing in the world. She went to every single game his team played, as she had been a Sevilla fan all her life. Having her uncle return to her childhood club was a dream come true.

It was matchday. Y/N was sat on the sidelines, a Ramos jersey as her choice of shirt for the occasion. It was Sevilla v Barcelona and tensions were high.

The players emerged from the tunnels and lined up on the pitch. Sergio shot his niece a smile as he fell into position with the rest of his teammates. Little did he know, it would be a tragic game for his team.

The game went terribly. Sevilla lost 3-0 despite a desperate effort to level out the scoreboard. Once the game was over, Sergio sat deflated in one of the chairs on the side of the pitch.

“Please don’t be too upset, Uncle. There will be other games.” Y/N tried to reason. But it was no use. Sergio was devastated.

At that moment, Pablo was walking past. He caught Sergio’s eye, and he called him over. Gavi signalled to his friends to go on without him as he headed over to where Ramos and his niece sat.

“Hola, Sergio. Is everything okay?” Pablo asked.

“Si, everything is fine. This is my niece Y/N, I thought I would introduce you to her.”

Y/N waved at Gavi, smiling sweetly at the boy that stood in front of her. Pablo returned the gesture, slightly taken aback by the gorgeous girl that stood before him.

“I’ll leave you two to get to know each other.” Sergio stated, before walking off to the changing rooms.

“Hello.” Pablo said awkwardly. He was slightly intimidated by her beauty and confident demeanour, but he wasn’t surprised. She was the niece of the infamous Sergio Ramos.

“You played very well today. You’re very talented.” She replied. Y/N had always found Gavi attractive. It had all started when she saw him make his debut for Barcelona.

“That’s very kind of you. Has anyone ever told you how pretty you are?”  Pablo responded, his cheeks flushing pink at his statement.

Y/N laughed. “Yes, I get that a lot. You aren’t too bad yourself, you know?”

Gavi smiled. “I don’t mean to be forward, but would there be any chance of me taking you out for dinner? I think we would get along pretty well.”

“I’m sure Y/N would love to Pablo. Isn’t that right?” Sergio said, remerging from the changing rooms, making the pair jump.

“I’d love to.” She agreed.

Gavi nodded and, with a smile, said, “I’ll be in contact.”

He then jogged over to the Barcelona dressing room, but not before throwing a wink Y/N’s way.

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Red Sniper with a Blu Spy Darling concept?

Ah yes, Sniper likes a partner who can just kill him. (literally). Sorry it isn't that long, that was mostly just me spilling thoughts on the idea like most of my concept. There isn't much plot-wise. Don't worry, you don't get jarate thrown at you (THANKFULLY).

Yandere! RED Sniper with BLU Spy! Darling

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Enemies to one-sided lovers, Manipulation, Possessive behavior, Jealousy, Sadism, Slight stalking, Threats. Dubious relationship.

Everyone knows an infamous pair in TF2 is Sniper and Spy when it comes to playing the game.

Snipers often fall victim to spies in the game due to getting tunnel vision from their scope.

So the dynamic between Sniper and a darling actively trying to kill him is funny to think about.

Especially if it only seems to make him fall even more in love with his obsession.

You, as a spy, have one job.

Take out the enemy group and aid your own team with the objective.

You're normally very skilled at taking out your targets.

Then you met the RED team's Sniper.

He's usually calm, quiet, collected, focused...

But you also catch him off guard.

The dynamic between you two is very... strange to put it simply.

At first you start as enemies.

Sniper knows damn well you seek him out and he knows the reason.

You want to kill him, and at first the feelings are mutual.

This is about the only time any feelings between you two are mutual.

Although, in true spy fashion, you end up flirting with your target...

Something that no doubt seals your fate.

Your attempts to kill one another make you see each other often.

Soon it becomes routine.

Sniper already knows to keep an eye out for your decloaking, he already expects you.

Even to the point of greeting you before you two fight.

Out of all the classes on both of your teams, you two have the strangest dynamic.

Especially when Sniper starts viewing it in a different light.

It takes you beyond off guard when Sniper attempts something new during your little "meetings".

Flirting... He tries flirting with an arrogant little grin just to see you falter.

The feeling is not mutual.

You're here to kill him.

Meanwhile he's here falling for his potential murderer (or if respawns exist, someone who he killed him countless times).

He finds it amusing how you look at him when he flirts with you.

You find it downright odd and perhaps even uncomfortable when your target tries to seduce you.

Granted... you're a master of seduction... but when you flirt back you do it just to make him drop his guard.

Sniper no doubt either thinks you reciprocate his feelings or knows you don't and messes with you anyways.

Even if you try to kill him, he still manages to find it... pleasing?

The pain means nothing to him as long as you do it.

Sniper would no doubt swap your roles as his obsession grows.

You may think you're playing hunter, you aren't.

No, as time goes on you become the hunted, not Sniper.

Sniper knows well how to deal with spies.

To the point he may even start wearing the Razorback to dissuade you just enough to speak to you.

Normally he'd like to watch you through his scope... but you're just about always cloaked.

That doesn't stop him from trying, however...

You only decloak around other teammates, only then can he watch you.

Sniper even gets better at seeing through your disguises.

Aww, trying to pretend you're someone you're not to kill him?

That disguise and attempt is quickly gast aside when he pins you.

You become less and less of a threat the more Sniper learns to read you.

Soon he's reading you before you have time to react, pinning you to a wall with his kukri at your neck.

You see, Sniper's always been a hunter.

You may think you're so skilled at the work of assassination, well, he is too.

He knows about you enough to read you, to show you he's the hunter here.

You, as a spy, are no longer a threat.

Sniper can't help but grin when he sees you against the wall, unsure what exactly to do now that he's caught you.

He's a sadistic man, especially when it comes to you...

You've teased him enough with your encounters, always flirting just to shove a knife into his back.

Jokes on you, he's prepared now.

Now you're the one in danger, you're the one at his mercy.

"Oh, love... I think it's about time we had ourselves a genuine little chat. You have no clue how much I crave you when I see you...."

It's all an odd turn of events.

Your target is completely infatuated with you, not afraid in the slightest.

No, instead he holds a sadistic glint in his eyes as he eyes you up and down.

He's never wanted someone more in his damn life.

"I've always found our little games cute... you're a cute little thing, really. You try so hard to kill me, even playing with my feelings. You really know how to play a man, don't you?"

Your little flirtatious game of murder was no doubt going to have some consequences.

By the peak of his obsession, Sniper is deeply in love.

He doesn't mind if you want to play your little sadistic games, as long as it's with him.

Yes, an odd thing about Sniper is the fact he probably gets jealous when your target is anyone else.

He's so obsessed with your flirtation that he finds himself jealous of you trying to attack others.

He's sick in the head, that much is obvious.

Sniper likes having you under his control.

It pleases him to see you powerless before him, completely at his mercy.

All so he can kiss you, murmuring about how much he's fallen for you.

While Snipers are typically the ones who fall victim to Spies...

It appears the tables have turned for you.

"Surely you feel the same, yeah? I can tell you do... you enjoy this game just as much as me, love. No need to hide it."

[ferniliciousness]

Mass effect headcannon for you cause I can't share with anyone else lmao

Ok when you first go to the citadel after Eden Prime in me1 the vi guide tells you that it's the first time You've been there. So tell me, after you recruit Garrus (who lives on the Citadel and has for years atp), WHY ARE WE THE ONE LEADING THE GROUP!

I got lost so much my first playthrough and still continue to do so after 40+ hours in the first game (2nd playthrough). You cannot tell me that Garrus does not joke with Shepard about how they constantly get lost, and it just gets worse as they get to know each other more. The mercenary outposts where you get lost in the maze, the tunnels on Feros, or the labyrinth that is the hallways on noveria. Hell I couldn't find the garage entrance on noveria for 10 minutes and was running around like a crazy person.

(bonus points if Wrex is on your squad cause you know he's just encouraging Garrus)

And yes this trend continued into the second and third game. To the point where I was yelling at Garrus for Shepard because I just know he was being a smartass about it lmao.

Garrus: Shepard, we've literally been here 50 times before. How are you still lost? I think I should be concerned atp.

Shepard: oh shut up Garrus, I'm sure this is all very funny. (Goes down the wrong hallway again)

Tali: (shaking their head in disappointment while desperately trying not to laugh)

[bibibbon]

Anon that said Mic is attractive with fanart, with his hair and glasses down.

(Note I don't know how this may turn out. If it sounds like I'm anger. It's not to you it's at other people. I promise)

I agree with you. I think he is really attractive, but a majority if the fans, it's feels like, don't agree with us.

I once was talking to my friends about how I thought Mic's was really good looking in the new leaks(this is when the Mic suit leaks came out) and they told me "But Aizawa is hotter" Orr "No" and repeatedly shut me down. I had to agree with them, just for them to hear me out. Then told me more or less that I was wrong.

So I agree with you, Mic is attractive, but people don't care, and will hold him more accountable to the shit he does, then someone like Aizawa.

I don't think that it's fans not agreeing that present mic is good looking but more of fans developing a tunnel type vision so whenever present mic is brought up aizawa would eventually be brought up into the conversation it's rarely vice versa though. I do very much think that this is because mic as a character barely has any screentime to himself and is usually used to prop up aizawa instead of being an independent character.

Yeah mic looks really good in the suit and he is slept on in chapter 425.

However, I would go as far as to say that the criticism that mic gets is actually unfair.

1) he got criticism for his reaction to finding out about yuuga being the traitor but after all the traitor put everyone in danger and literally indirectly caused the death of midnight and aizawa getting injured in the usj. Present mic at the time also didn't know yuuga's situation and he still had 100% right to be angry

2) he got criticism for calling out bakugo in the sports festival but he was valid for doing that. Bakugo was being harsh and incredibly aggressive

3) he got criticism for him not accepting that oboro is kurogiri but present mic unlike aizawa never got time to process and heal from the trauma he simply shoved it down he cracked and even then it was extremely valid and understandable where he came from

4) the way he attacked Dr garaki was yes indeed violent and he shouldn't of done it as a hero but you bet I would be out for blood if some creepy doctor turned my friend into a nomu ending his life while that doctor has a bloody immortality quirk.

Also, even if characters are thought to be hot/good looking sometimes it even back fires because not only does it sometimes make people forget about the characters actions but it also makes people just focus on that one quality, sexualise the character and sometimes even forget about the characters purpose or proper role in the story.

[agatharkn3ss]

Episode 7 initial thoughts

Ah, where do I start. This was such a beautiful episode. Nowhere near as convoluted with the visions as I originally thought, but it was so so much better, because it allowed to focus on Lilia's story and her own emotions. I just wanted to hug her this entire episode. And then I loved her when she became this powerful being in the end. My heart literally breaks that she had to die just shortly after her closure.

It feels like a poetic pattern that once the witches get their breakthrough because the found what they were missing, then they don't need the Road any more - for them that's the end (of the Road). But their lives are the price. Knowing what we know they really are dead - the Road has always been said to be a literal dead end. So it seems like the characters get what they need from the Road - i.e. the closure, but at the cost of dying. All roads really lead to death, so that's why no witch survived it - they all got what they were missing. It would explain why Agatha survived too - she didn't get what she needed from the Road before. She cheated her way through it, every single trial. But that must have impressed Death, so she allowed her to get out.

But what does this mean for the future? Has Agatha realised yet that they will need to die? I think Agatha will find a loophole to get Jen and Billy out of the Road somehow. (I feel the locket is the key - it contains Nicky's hair... but Nicky could literally be a personification of Darkhold - which is what allows to break the Road spell. But I'll write about it some time later) But maybe Rio will want to keep Agatha there? I guess I will need to find a straight lady to get some answers XD

Anywho. I will be coming back to this in the morning. For now, the rest of my observations:

it literally is a crime that this awesome episode didn't even get 30min screen time.

I loved the comedic scenes

And all the reveal scenes - whether about Lilia's powers or Billy's abilities or Rio identity - I feel both we the audience and the coven finally got some answers and it felt good

But.... did Billy need to be the querent? I get it gave some comedic moments to it... but it didn't make sense. Why not let Agatha get back to being central to this story, not Billy? After all, Lilia's reading ended up being for the whole coven

there was a red light flickering underground with cables and all sorts. Very odd, are they actually in that underground transport system tunnels that Sharon mentioned? Who's controlling the illusion then?

Were Salem Seven walking backwards?

I thought it odd for Lilia saying telling Jen about being "sisters in the craft" - Jen literally in ep.5 said the same words "Agatha, we are sister in the craft, remember?". It's very specific, but we've not heard Agatha say it before. So is there another time slip?

Lilia described Jen as "unable or unwilling to use her powers". So I think this points to the fact that Jen really just needs to believe in herself (and that's why Lilia praised her when she healed Billy)

Loooooved the entire dialogue in the starting scene, Kathryn has again delivered some absolutely cracking lines.

Rio's reveal wasn't as dramatic as expected, but I still liked it. You could say I loved the anticipation. But it seems like she really is set up to be the baddie of the show. Is she the one who's going to call Agatha a coward?

Oh and yes, loved how Lilia left every witch a little advice for the future.

I am sure there are lots more things I will be mulling over. But for now, excuse me while I go crying....

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

Things in The Neighbor's Under the Bed that drive me insane

(WARNING: IT'S A REALLY LONG POST FOR SOME REASON. CONTINUE IF YOU DARE)

Mark said "They beat us 7-nil", implying that Abigail was also a Raccoon. So. Both of them are retired Raccoon City players but Mark cares about football and getting back at Johnny and Janae's father. Abigail loves the guy enough to let him do his plans, occasionally helping him (like with the tunnel thing) but she doesn't obsess over football like he does

"A nipple a day keeps the Rangers at bay!" "That's what we've got on our house crest" I know all of these things are supposed to be for comedic purposes but that implies that Abigail's been doing the nipple thing since the Raccoons lost to the Rangers (hell, she could have also been doing it before they lost to the Rangers but I don't think she'd have the need to do that unless conspiring with Mark to get back at the Rangers)

THE ADDAMS JUST HAVE A BLUEPRINT OF THE EVANS' HOUSE. WHAT??

"We love you too, Dad!" Janae, that is your mother--

"Don't hit your brother anymore, that's not very nice okay?" "I try to but the night terrors" This is Janae responding. I can't tell if this is because Janae has nightmares and is hitting Johnny in their sleep or if Janae hits Johnny to wake him up from a really nasty future dream

Johnny coming out of nowhere while Martha was already telling the boys goodnight and her not knowing that he wasn't in the room shows how neglectful of a mother she is. Sure, she comforts him but also tells him to "shut up" and to "stop being weird".

"Yes, Johnny, that's the one" WHY DID JANAE HAVE TO CONFIRM THAT THEIR MOTHER WAS RIGHT WITH WHAT THEIR OLDER BROTHER'S NAME IS??

"I did say that he was my older brother. But he's emotionally less mature" This is definitely to clarify to the audience but I'm taking this as Janae knowing that their mother can't differentiate them sometimes.

"What do you mean you had another one of your future dreams?" SHE DOESN'T KNOW WHAT HE'S TALKING ABOUT. AND THIS IS A REGULAR OCCURRENCE, MIND YOU. SHE DOESN'T LISTEN TO HIM WHEN HE'S TALKING ABOUT HIS FUTURE DREAMS!! HE LITERALLY HAD TO EXPLAIN WHAT HIS FUTURE DREAMS WERE

"I'll try but I do have to finish the Oxford curriculum" Implies they're in school and then Tom throws the next line "Because, you know I'm lecturing in the morning" which throws my previous idea out the window. JANAE LECTURES AT OXFORD?? JANAE FUCKING GRADUATED AND TEACHES AT OXFORD??

"I dreamed a man came out from under my bed :(" I mean, sure, it's technically correct but not exactly correct?? Which implies that Johnny either has 80% accurate future dreams or his dreams come from another perspective sometimes??

"But sometimes they come true, mommy!" SOMETIMES?? SO THEY DON'T ALWAYS COME TRUE?? I MEAN. OKAY

"It's okay, I'm familiar with the carnal act" what has this eight-year-old seen....

"My seis-- my seismogram" Tom was blanking on what it was called but yes, a seismogram exists (I saw it on my exam. But now I'm starting to think that an 8 year old just recently invented it)

"It's not true" IMMEDIATELY TOLD HER CHILD THAT IT ISN'T REAL. DOES SHE CARE ABOUT HER CHILDREN? PROBABLY NOT

"If it was true, it would be called a seismoGRAPH" BOTH OF THEM SHUT JANAE DOWN. WHAT?? GUYS. HEAR 'EM OUT. COME ON

"I said I made it myself, it's something new, father!" NEITHER OF JANAE'S PARENTS WOULD LISTEN TO THEM. ALSO, THE EMPHASIS ON "FATHER" IMPLIES JANAE DOESN'T LIKE THEIR FATHER MUCH

"I know where he gets his power. I have to sleep with his wife" THIS IS LIKE THE MEME. ["I'VE CONNECTED THE TWO DOTS" "YOU DIDN'T CONNECT SHIT" "I'VE CONNECTED THEM"] NO BUT WHERE THE FUCK DID HE GET THIS IDEA I'M SOBBING SO HARD

"ENGORGE HIM AND HAVE HIM ENTE-- no wait-- ENGORGE HER AND HAVE YOURSELF ENTER HER" TOM WAS READY TO MAKE THIS GAY. I LOVE THAT

"It'll just be me and the boys--" "No, me and the boys" THEIR FATHER IS TOO FIXATED WITH FOOTBALL THAT HE DOESN'T EVEN CONSIDER HIS CHILDREN

"Tasting menu" "Expensive.." THIS ISN'T REALLY RELATED TO THE LORE I'M TRYING TO MAKE FOR NEIGHBOUR'S BUT THIS IS HILARIOUS

The nod to Luke before patting the chair. Again, not related to lore but I love this moment

AJ going to drink in the background until Luke spoke. Took a moment to pause because that was definitely not what Johnny sounded like previously (not related. again)

"We had a different daddy. Our daddy was not our daddy it was the neighbaah :(" Okay so going back to Johnny's future dreams, they aren't 100% accurate to what actually happens but rather a caricature of it?? Dreams don't always make sense in real life, so Johnny's future dreams being a bit exaggerated makes sense kind of??

"WHY ARE THEY DOING IT IN THE RECORDING STUDIO WITH ALL THE MICS ON?!" THEY HAVE A WHAT IN THEIR HOUSE? THEY HAVE A RECORDING STUDIO???

"I was going to suggest a fire but okay!" JANAE IMMEDIATELY THOUGHT THAT A FIRE WAS THE BEST WAY TO SOLVE THIS. THEY MAY BE BOOK SMART BUT THEY'RE A LITTLE BIT FUCKED UP IN THE HEAD. JOHNNY, THE ONE WHO GOES MORE ON EMOTION RATHER THAN GENUINELY THINKING, WAS THE ONE WHO HAD A RATIONAL IDEA. CALLING THEIR DAD WAS DEFINITELY THE BETTER IDEA. AND THEN HE JUST AGREES WHEN JANAE SUGGESTED A FIRE. YEAH, NO, NEVERMIND THEY'RE BOTH A BIT FUCKED UP (then again, younger children have wild imaginations. Janae might be intelligent but that doesn't mean they're not a kid. Hell, their boosted iq may or may not have aided with the fucked up ideas they might have)

Janae just being a news anchor/football announcer in a normal speed while Jack and Mark are in slow mo. Why is that? To make it a bit more dramatic? Because it's a slow mo playback? Huh??

"I'll be seeking forced adoption for myself and my older brother" GOOD BECAUSE BOTH OF THEIR PARENTS ARE NEGLECTFUL. THEY DESERVE TO LIVE IN A BETTER HOME, GODDAMN IT

Tl;dr: This play is insane and these two kids need a family that actually care about their interests and don't shut them down/force them to play football

[sunnystrollblog]

So some ideas that I think would be cool for the Borrower au (that you are completely free to ignore or veto):

The Borrower trolls do end up moving into the village but they pull a Canon Branch and immediately start building a series of Ant-like tunnels under it. Both Peppy and Poppy worry about them collapsing like the escape tunnels but eventually are convinced to let them do it.

Borrower trolls have a bit of a skewed sense of ownership. Like they respect sentimental objects but otherwise it's the Classic Borrower idea of "is it useful? Will you notice its absence? Good it's ours now."

To outsiders it's almost impossible to tell the difference between a regular Pop troll and a Borrower troll. After Barb's invasion this accidentally gains the whole tribe the reputation for being 'Preppy Neon Sleeper Agents'. This reputation is strengthened when the Putt-Putts come into the picture.

Ooooh I love these ideas and I’ll expand on it. When borrower trolls are reintroduced into troll society the other pop trolls have no idea how to interact with them. For one they don’t party much afraid it could lead a dangerous critter to them. So it hard to get them to join in group activities were there is going to be a good amount of noise. Not to mention that if anyone feels threatened at any time they can go in four different survival reactions. Defenders usually go for fight, scavengers go for freeze/hide, rescuers go for fawn and caretakers are a toss up which can be very dangerous for whoever makes them feel threatened. the first time regular pop trolls saw branch take down a large critter with no sweat was definitely surprising. They’ve also developed harder skin to deal with the rough ground in Bergen town

Secondly their diets have changed drastically since they were used to scavenging for any scraps of food they could get their hands. It’s not uncommon to catch borrower trolls taking discarded foods from the trash or even just storing away any food items given to them. And pop trolls sorta had trouble feeding the caretaker trolls because they literally refused to eat until all the younglings did.

And gift giving is a nightmare because of how practical these trolls are. Now the first time someone gave hype a gift our boy immediately broke it apart and basically only kept the parts that he could use for traps or another invention. It wasn’t until the troll who gave him it started crying did he understand that’s not a normal thing to do. So yeah gifts need to be practical especially clothing.

Now while some borrowers look basically the same as others trolls that’s not the case for many as their roles in the compound influenced their outfits drastically. For example scavengers wear things that can blend in with their surroundings so now that they live in the forest they wear floral clothing mostly consisting of green leaves or flowers that can blend into the environment. Caretakers wear soft and simple clothing so the children can recognize them immediately. Rescuers and defenders wear any protective clothing anything that can hold together in a fight and they’ll wear it. But if you didn’t know that about them then yes you’d have absolutely no idea you’re talking to someone who could snap your neck in less than a second and who’d use your body as critter bait

But there are still some things that are similar. Like hugs, now you might think they’d all be touch averse because of living in Bergen town for so long. But actually hugs and physical contact helped a lot of trolls when they lived under the bergens. It took away some of the stress and anxiety that living there caused and it helped them stay connected to each other even when words were hard to find. And music is another thing that they hold dear, now just because they couldn’t play loudly didn’t mean they didn’t listen to music at all. In fact lullabies and and soft instrumental songs were loved by all no matter the age

Anyway yeah they’ve all changed a lot since the troll tree. But they still are trolls and that doesn’t change just because they’re different now. Just means others need to be more accommodating