#week-long challenges are not sustainable

[woellow]

#harlivy #poison ivy #harley quinn #harley x ivy #dc #drawing #this is for harlivy week #day 7 #prompt: tenderness #im so late to this #but it's fine #it's fine #week-long challenges are not sustainable #anyways #i love them

[maaarine]

Mystery of why Roman buildings have survived so long has been unraveled, scientists say (Katie Hunt, CNN, Jan 06 2023)

“Roman concrete, in many cases, has proven to be longer-lasting than its modern equivalent, which can deteriorate within decades.

Now, scientists behind a new study say they have uncovered the mystery ingredient that allowed the Romans to make their construction material so durable and build elaborate structures in challenging places such as docks, sewers and earthquake zones.

The study team, including researchers from the United States, Italy and Switzerland, analyzed 2,000-year-old concrete samples that were taken from a city wall at the archaeological site of Privernum, in central Italy, and are similar in composition to other concrete found throughout the Roman Empire.

They found that white chunks in the concrete, referred to as lime clasts, gave the concrete the ability to heal cracks that formed over time.

The white chunks previously had been overlooked as evidence of sloppy mixing or poor-quality raw material.

"For me, it was really difficult to believe that ancient Roman (engineers) would not do a good job because they really made careful effort when choosing and processing materials," said study author Admir Masic, an associate professor of civil and environmental engineering at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology. (…)

Additional analysis of the concrete showed that the lime clasts formed at extreme temperatures expected from the use of quicklime, and "hot mixing" was key to the concrete's durable nature.

"The benefits of hot mixing are twofold," Masic said in a news release.

"First, when the overall concrete is heated to high temperatures, it allows chemistries that are not possible if you only used slaked lime, producing high-temperature-associated compounds that would not otherwise form.

Second, this increased temperature significantly reduces curing and setting times since all the reactions are accelerated, allowing for much faster construction."

To investigate whether the lime clasts were responsible for Roman concrete's apparent ability to repair itself, the team conducted an experiment.

They made two samples of concrete, one following Roman formulations and the other made to modern standards, and deliberately cracked them.

After two weeks, water could not flow through the concrete made with a Roman recipe, whereas it passed right through the chunk of concrete made without quicklime.

Their findings suggest that the lime clasts can dissolve into cracks and recrystallize after exposure to water, healing cracks created by weathering before they spread.

The researchers said this self-healing potential could pave the way to producing more long-lasting, and thus more sustainable, modern concrete.

Such a move would reduce concrete's carbon footprint, which accounts for up to 8% of global greenhouse gas emissions, according to the study.

For many years, researchers had thought that volcanic ash from the area of Pozzuoli, on the Bay of Naples, was what made Roman concrete so strong.

This kind of ash was transported across the vast Roman empire to be used in construction, and was described as a key ingredient for concrete in accounts by architects and historians at the time.

Masic said that both components are important, but lime was overlooked in the past.”

#article #science #environment

[mostlysignssomeportents]

Kelly and Zach Weinersmith’s “A City On Mars”

In A City On Mars, biologist Kelly Weinersmith and cartoonist Zach Weinersmith set out to investigate the governance challenges of the impending space settlements they were told were just over the horizon. Instead, they discovered that humans aren't going to be settling space for a very long time, and so they wrote a book about that instead:

https://www.acityonmars.com/

The Weinersmiths make the (convincing) case that ever aspect of space settlement is vastly beyond our current or reasonably foreseeable technical capability. What's more, every argument in favor of pursuing space settlement is errant nonsense. And finally: all the energy we are putting into space settlement actually holds back real space science, which offers numerous benefits to our species and planet (and is just darned cool).

Every place we might settle in space – giant rotating rings, the Moon, Mars – is vastly more hostile than Earth. Not just more hostile than Earth as it stands today – the most degraded, climate-wracked, nuke-blasted Earth you can imagine is a paradise of habitability compared to anything else. Mars is covered in poison and the sky disappears under planet-sized storms that go on and on. The Moon is covered in black-lung-causing, razor-sharp, electrostatically charged dust. Everything is radioactive. There's virtually no water. There are temperature swings of hundreds of degrees every couple of hours or weeks. You're completely out of range of resupply, emergency help, or, you know, air.

There's Helium 3 on the Moon, but not much of it, and there is no universe in which is it cheaper to mine for Helium 3 on the Moon than it is to mine for it on Earth. That's generally true of anything we might bring back from space, up to and including continent-sized chunks of asteroid platinum.

Going to space doesn't end war. The countries that have gone to space are among the most militarily belligerent in human history. The people who've been to space have come back perfectly prepared to wage war.

Going to space won't save us from the climate emergency. The unimaginably vast trove of material and the energy and advanced technology needed to lift it off Earth and get it to Mars is orders of magnitude more material and energy than we would need to resolve the actual climate emergency here.

We aren't anywhere near being a "multiplanetary species." The number of humans you need in a colony to establish a new population is hard to estimate, but it's very large. Larger than we can foreseeably establish on the Moon, on Mars, or on a space-station. But even if we could establish such a colony, there's little evidence that it could sustain itself – not only are we a very, very long way off from such a population being able to satisfy its material needs off-planet, but we have little reason to believe that children could gestate, be born, and grow to adulthood off-planet.

To top it all off, there's space law – the inciting subject matter for this excellent book. There's a lot of space law, and while there are some areas of ambiguity, the claims of would-be space entrepreneurs about how their plans are permissible under the settled parts of space law don't hold up. But those claims are robust compared to claims that space law will simply sublimate into its constituent molecules when exposed to the reality of space travel, space settlement, and (most importantly) space extraction.

Space law doesn't exist in a vacuum (rimshot). It is parallel to – and shares history with – laws regarding Antarctica, the ocean's surface, and the ocean's floor. These laws relate to territories that are both vastly easier to access and far more densely populated by valuable natural resources. The fact that they remain operative in the face of economic imperatives demands that space settlement advocates offer a more convincing account than "money talks, bullshit walks, space law is toast the minute we land on a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid."

The Weinersmiths have such an account in defense of space law: namely, that space law, and its terrestrial analogs, constitute a durable means of resolving conflicts that would otherwise give rise to outcomes that are far worse for science, entrepreneurship, human thriving or nation-building than the impediments these laws represent.

What's more, space law is enforceable. Not only would any space settlement be terribly, urgently dependent on support from Earth for the long-foreseeable future, but every asteroid miner, Lunar He3 exporter and Martian potato-farmer hoping to monetize their products would have an enforcement nexus with a terrestrial nation and thus the courts of that nation.

But the Weinersmiths aren't anti-space. They aren't even anti-space-settlement. Rather, they argue that the path to space-based scientific breakthroughs, exploration of our solar system, and a deeper understanding of our moral standing in a vast universe cannot start with space settlements.

Landing people on the Moon or Mars any time soon is a stunt – a very, very expensive stunt. These boondoggles aren't just terribly risky (though they are – people who attempt space settlement are very likely to die horribly and after not very long), they come with price-tags that would pay for meaningful space science. For the price of a crewed return trip to Mars, you could put multiple robots onto every significant object in our solar system, and pilot an appreciable fleet of these robot explorers back to Earth with samples.

For the cost of a tiny, fraught, lethal Moon-base, we could create hundreds of experiments in creating efficient, long-term, closed biospheres for human life.

That's the crux of the Weinersmiths' argument: if you want to establish space settlements, you need to do a bunch of other stuff first, like figure out life-support, learn more about our celestial neighbors, and vastly improve our robotics. If you want to create stable space-settlements, you'll need to create robust governance systems – space law that you can count on, rather than space law that you plan on shoving out the airlock. If you want humans to reproduce in space – a necessary precondition for a space settlement that lasts more than a single human lifespan – then we need to do things like breed multiple generations of rodents and other animals, on space stations.

Space is amazing. Space science is amazing. Crewed scientific space missions are amazing. But space isn't amazing because it offers a "Plan B" for an Earth that is imperiled by humanity's recklessness. Space isn't amazing because it offers unparalleled material wealth, or unlimited energy, or a chance to live without laws or governance. It's not amazing because it will end war by mixing the sensawunda of the "Pale Blue Dot" with the lebensraum of an infinite universe.

A science-driven approach to space offers many dividends for our species and planet. If we can figure out how to extract resources as dispersed as Lunar He3 or asteroid ice, we'll have solved problems like extracting tons of gold from the ocean or conflict minerals from landfill sites, these being several orders of magnitude more resource-dense than space. If we can figure out how to create self-sustaining terraria for large human populations in the radiation-, heat- and cold-blasted environs of space, we will have learned vital things about our own planet's ecosystems. If we can build the robots that are necessary for supporting a space society, we will have learned how to build robots that take up the most dangerous and unpleasant tasks that human workers perform on Earth today.

In other words, it's not just that we should solve Earth's problems before attempting space settlement – it's that we can't settle space until we figure out the solutions to Earth's problems. Earth's problems are far simpler than the problems of space settlement.

As I read the Weinersmiths' critique of space settlement, I kept thinking of the pointless AI debates I keep getting dragged into. Arguments for space settlement that turn on existential risks (like humanity being wiped out by comets, sunspots, nuclear armageddon or climate collapse) sound an awful lot like the arguments about "AI safety" – the "risk" that the plausible sentence generator is on the verge of becoming conscious and turning us all into paperclips.

Both arguments are part of a sales-pitch for investment in commercial ventures that have no plausible commercial case, but whose backers are hoping to get rich anyway, and are (often) sincerely besotted with their own fantasies:

https://locusmag.com/2023/12/commentary-cory-doctorow-what-kind-of-bubble-is-ai/

Both AI and space settlement pass over the real risks, such as the climate consequences of their deployment, or the labor conditions associated with their production. After all, when you're heading off existential risk, you don't stop to worry about some carbon emissions or wage theft.

And critically, both ignore the useful (but resolutely noncommercial) ways that AI or space science can benefit our species. AI radiology analysis might be useful as an adjunct to human radiological analysis, but that is more expensive, not less. Space science might help us learn to use our materials more efficiently on Earth, and that will come long before anyone makes rendezvous with a $14 quadrillion platinum asteroid.

There are beneficial uses for LLMs. When the Human Rights Data Analysis Group uses an LLM to help the Innocence Project New Orleans extract and categorize officer information from wrongful conviction records, they are doing something valuable and important:

https://hrdag.org/tech-notes/large-language-models-IPNO.html

It's socially important work, a form of automation that is an unalloyed good, but you won't hear about it from LLM advocates. No one is gonna get rich on improving the efficiency of overturning wrongful convictions with natural language processing. You can't inflate a stock bubble with the Innocence Project.

By the same token, learning about improving gestational health by breeding multigenerational mouse families in geosynchronous orbit is no way to get a billionaire tech baron to commit $250 billion to space science. But that's not an argument against emphasizing real science that really benefits our whole species. It's an argument for taking away capital allocation authority from tech billionaires.

I'm a science fiction writer. I love stories about space. But I can distinguish fantasy from reality and thought experiments from suggestions. Kim Stanley Robinson's 2015 novel Aurora – about failed space settlement – is every bit as fascinating and inspirational as "golden age" sf:

https://memex.craphound.com/2015/11/02/kim-stanley-robinsons-aurora-space-is-bigger-than-you-think/

But still, it inspired howls of outrage from would-be space colonists. So much so that Stan wrote a brilliant essay explaining what we were all missing about space settlement, which I published:

https://boingboing.net/2015/11/16/our-generation-ships-will-sink.html

With City on Mars, the Weinersmiths aren't making the case for giving up on space, nor are they trying to strip space of its romance and excitement. They're trying to get us to focus on the beneficial, exciting, serious space science we can do right now, not just because it's attainable and useful – but because it is a necessary precondition for any actual space settlement in the distant future.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/01/09/astrobezzle/#send-robots-instead

#pluralistic #books #reviews #space #bezzles #mars #spacex #robots #science #space science #space travel #space settlement #space colonization

[dragonmuse]

How to be a Dirtbag Fic Writer

I got to do some talking about writing today and I couldn’t stop thinking about it so here are my full thoughts on the matter of being a dirtbag fic writer.

Being the disorganized thoughts of someone two and a half decades into the beautiful mess that is writing fanfic (and a few non-fanfic things too).

What is a dirtbag fic writer? 

 I am talking about someone who is not cleaning up anything. We show up filthy, fresh out of rooting around in the garden of our imaginations. We probably smell a little from work. We will hand you our hard grown fruits, but we have not washed them and we carried them in the bottom upturned parts of our t-shirts. The fruit is a little bruised. It’s not cut up or put in a bowl yet. But we got it in the house! It’s here. Someone can eat it.  

Why dirtbag it? Because the fruit gets in the house. If you’re hemming and hawing, if the idea you want to do seems to be big or you want it perfect and shiny. If you’re imagining a ten thousand step process, so you’re not taking the first step? Dirtbag it. 

How do I dirtbag? 

That’s the best part. You just write. Sit down. One word after the other. No outline, no plan, no destination. No thought of editing. Just word vomit. Every word is a good word. It’a word that wasn’t there before. Grammar sucks? Who cares. Can’t think of the perfect word? Fuck it, put in the simplest version of what you mean. 

Write the idea that you love. The one thing you want to say. Has it been done 3000000 times? WHO CARES human history is long, every idea has been done, probably more than twice. YOU have never written it before. It’s your grubby potato that you clawed out of the ground and guess what someone can still make it into delicious french fries. 

Now here’s the critical part. Write as much as you can squeeze out of your brain. One word in front of the other. 

And then I challenge you this: at most, read it over once and then put it into the world. Just as it is. AND THIS IS IMPORTANT: DO IT WITHOUT APOLOGY OR CAVEAT.  I challenge you, beautiful dirtbag to not pre-emptively apologize. Do not make your work lesser. THAT IS YOUR POTATO! It has eyes and roots and dirt clinging to it because that is what happens.  We are dirtbagging it today. Hell really confused people at do #dirtbagwriter on it.  

Dirtbag writes id, base, lizard brain. Dig in the fertile garden of your imagination. What is the story you tell yourself before you fall asleep? What’s your anxiety this week? Your fantasy? What is going well? What do you wish things looked like? Who is the feral imaginary character you’ve been crafting to take your frustrations and joys out on? 

But, VEE, I wish to have an editor and an outline, use a cool software like scrivener instead of retching up onto a google doc and making it look NICE and PRETTY!

COOL! DO THAT THEN! IF YOU’RE ACTUALLY DOING IT! You should have a process! That’s cool and healthy and necessary for sustainable writing. But if you’re not writing because all of that seems too much? THEN DON’T. 

Did you know fic is free? That we do this from love? From sheer desire? For the love of the game? If you have a process, and the words are flowing, amazing, I love that for you, you don’t need this essay.  If you don’t, let us continue. 

What does dirtbag writing look like? 

It’s messy. It’s a little raw and tatty around the edges sometimes. It’s weird.  It’s someone else’s first draft. Maybe it winds up being your first draft, Idek, that’s your business. 

It’s jokes that make YOU laugh. It’s drama that would make YOU cry if you read it. You are your first commenter. You are your first audience (and possibly continuing pleasure! If you don’t go back and reread your own work sometimes, you might be missing out on one of your favorite authors cause you wrote it for you! Wait until you’re not so close to it. Years sometimes. Then hey, maybe some of this is pretty dang good actually.) 

It has mistakes. 

Dirtbags make mistakes, but dirtbags have published pieces. They have things other people can read out there. 

What if I don’t get good feedback? 

Look, the most likely outcome of any new, untried fic writer (and even established writers trying something new-ish)  is that you get no feedback. That’s real. Silence. It’s eerie, it’s terrible, it sucks. I don’t want to pretend it doesn’t. But nothing is not negative. It’s a big fic-y ocean out there and we are all wee itty-bitty-sometimes-with-titty fishes.  

You should still do it all over again. And again. And again. You get better at writing by writing. You just do. Nothing else replaces it. If your well is dry? Fill it with new things. Go do something new, read a new kind of book, watch a new film,  (libraries have so much good shit, you don’t even have to spend money for so many things if you have a library card), just go for a walk in a new direction. Stimulate yourself. Got a cup of something hot and eavesdrop on conversations. Refill yourself with newness. 

And hey, speaking of, do you leave comments? Because you get what you give. You can build relationships with people by commenting and that builds community and community means places to get feedback in the end. Comments are gold. They are all we are paid in. Tip your writers with ‘extra kudos’ or ‘this made me laugh’. And hey, when you go back for a re-read so you can tell them your favorite part? Ask yourself how they made that favorite part? What do you like about it?  Tone? Metaphor? The structure? Reading teaches us how to write too! 

BUT, okay. Sometimes. Sometimes there is actual bad feedback and people suck. 

You know the best part about being a dirtbag? Unrepentant block, delete, goodbye. You don’t own anyone with a shitty opinion any of your precious time on this earth. You did it for free, you gave them your dirty, but still delicious fruit and they went ‘ew, this is a dirty strawberry, how could you not make a clean tomato?”  Because you didn’t plant fucking tomatoes, did you? Don’t fight, don’t engage. Block. Delete. Goodbye. 

If someone in person, looked you in the eye when you brought them a plate of food to share at a party and they said “Why didn’t you bring me MY favorite? This isn’t cooked well at all.” You would probably write up a Reddit AiTA question about it just to hear five thousand people say they were an asshole.   Fic is no different 

And hey, when you dirtbag it? You know you did. It’s not your most cleaned up perfect version. So who cares what they think? You might make it more shiny and polished next time! You might NOT. 

Ok, but what if I don’t finish it? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it’s bad? 

Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if it doesn’t make sense? 

That’s ART, baby. Fuck it, post it anyway. 

What if what I want to write doesn’t work with current fandom norms? 

Then someone out there probably needs it!  And what the hell is this? The western canon? FUCK IT POST IT ANYWAY* 

*Basic human decency is not a ‘fandom norm’. Don’t be racist, sexist, ableist, fat shaming, classist or shitty about anyone's identity on main, okay? Dirtbag writers are KIND first and foremost. Someone saying you are stepping into shit about their identity is not the same as unsolicited crappy feedback about pairings. In the immortal words of Kurt Vonnegut: "God damn it, you've got to be kind.”

You’re being very flippant about something that’s scary. 

I know. I know I am. I know it can be scary. But no risk, no reward and hell, you aren’t using your goddamn legal name on the internet are you? (please for the love of fuck do not be using your legal name to write fic) You’ve got on a mask. You’re a superhero. With dirt on your cape. 

That niche thing that you think no one cares about? Guaranteed you will find someone else in the world who wants it. Maybe they won’t find it right away. Maybe they will be too shy to comment or even hit a button. But your dirty potato will stick with them. They will make french fries in their head.

You have an audience. But they can’t find you if you have nothing out there. 

Go forth. Make. 

You have some errors in this essay. 

PROBABLY CAUSE I DIRTBAGGED IT.  But I picked this strawberry for you out of my brain, so I hope you run it under some cold water and find the good bits and have a nice snack. Or throw it away. Or use it to plant more strawberries (I know that’s not how strawberries work, metaphors break when stretched).  

#dirtbagwriter 

Go forth and MAKE

#writing #i'm not an expert #I just have been doing this a long time #and these are my feels #please feel free to throw away this strawberry

[b00kdiary]

Can we please please please get a part 3 for stay with me where they actually fuck? Love your stuff btw absolutely amazing ❤️

Stay With Me | Rhysand (III)

Rhysand x Plus size reader

It's been a week. Rhysand's patience has worn thin. So has Y/N's.

Warnings: Mature themes (18+), swearing, and smut.

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

PART ONE PART TWO

Are you awake, darling?

I stared at the note that appeared on my nightstand fifteen seconds ago, the luxurious, broad sprawl telling of who had sent it. The word darling made my stomach coil – like I could hear Rhys purring it in my ear.

I fought my smile as I turned, dropping my bare legs off the side of the bed, and grabbing the quill that had appeared with the note. It was slightly warm, and I envisioned Rhys holding it, smirking like the fiend he was.

I am awake.

Missing me already?

I could feel my anticipation thrumming in me as I sprawled the words before neatly dropping the pen beside it. It vanished the moment I released it, wisped away to wherever Rhys lounged and for some reason, I could practically hear the rumbling laugh that would escape him the moment he read my teasing response.

My smile grew when the note reappeared not even thirty seconds later. I grabbed it with shaking hands, and I could feel the heat blazing through my blood and bones and veins at his words.

I always miss you; you know that.

And while I usually am the most patient male, that patience is starting to wear very thin.

I want you, darling.

He had been patient. So had I. One week since the Hybern attack, one week since I had sustained that injury and Rhysand had taken care of me – in more ways than just my leg. One week of stolen touches and yearning glances and pleasuring myself to quell the urge to seek him out.

I didn't want to be patient anymore. The ache between my legs wouldn't let me be.

Then why aren't you here?

I'm waiting, High Lord.

The note vanished and not even a second later, I heard the distant sound of wings thundering. I felt Rhysand's dark, obsidian power misting over Velaris stretching from the Town house to the House of Wind.

Call it impatience, call it confidence, call it whatever you want but my body was alight at the power of him, the need of him. And as Rhys thundered closer and closer, I took off piece after piece of clothing. My socks, my nightshirt, my underwear, my bra, everything, until I was bare sat upon my bed desperately needing to be touched.

My thighs clenched when Rhys landed on my balcony, the ground and walls shaking with the impact of his arrival. I could see his silhouette outlined by the moonlight and sheet of stars above as he stalked on silent feet toward my door, looking like a God that shouldn't exist.

The curtain parted with a phantom wind, and I felt my nipples pebble and my core soak as it danced into my room, brushing my skin like a lover's touch. Rhys ducked under my door, powerful wings tucked close to his back and violet eyes gleaming like midnight constellations.

"You beautiful, wicked thing," Rhys groaned as he slid into my room, eyes latching onto my naked figure sitting patiently atop my sheets. I felt his magic thrum at the sight of me, eyes razing across my bare flesh. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"

"I waited one week, Rhys," I lifted my chin defiantly, feigning arrogance. Even as every long step he took toward me made me tremble. "I'm a patient female but not that patient."

"Tsk tsk tsk," He clucked his tongue tauntingly at me, his thick brow raised in a challenge. I traced his long, lean angles, the broad muscles of his shoulders, and that infuriating smirk as he came to a stop before me. "As much as I love your eagerness, darling, I didn't say you could undress."

I moaned when his ringed hand came forward, cupping my aching breasts and squeezing it in his palm. His chest rumbled appreciatively as it spilt from his hand, another moan slipping from me when his thumb brushed over my taut, sensitive nipple.

"Perhaps I should punish you?" Rhys mused softly, eyes transfixed on my breasts, his forefinger and thumb clamped around my bud, abusing it, and watching me gasp. I craned my neck up to meet his towering form, cruel amusement in his eyes. "Unlace my breeches."

A firm, powerful command – his High Lord's voice. Gods, it made me wet. Rhys smirked at the spike in my pulse, the pleasure that coiled through me at his authority.

I was more than eager to follow his command, my hands moving to his slacks, tugging furiously at the laces. I could feel his hard length under my fingers, twitching and straining against the material, begging to be let free.

Rhysand released my breast, and I would have whined in protest had he not begun tugging the ties at the back of his shirt, striping the material from his wings and chest, revealing acres and acres of beautiful tan, tattooed skin as he discarded it.

I whimpered as I tugged the last lace, my pussy clenching around nothing as Rhys's thick, hard length slipped free from his pants, slapping back against his stomach, nearly hitting my face in the process. My mouth watered, actually watered at the sight of him.

"This is meant to be a punishment, darling," Rhys chuckled darkly, fingers gently folding into my hair and tilting my head to meet his eyes. He grinned at the heady intent on my face. "You shouldn't look so happy about it."

"You’re about to let me suck your cock, Rhys," I breathed, my voice rasping and hoarse. His hand tightened in my hair, fisting the root as I purred the word cock. I eyed his length, the red angry tip, the small pearly beads of pre-cum, the strong veins that danced on the sides. "How is that a punishment?"

"You're not sucking my cock, my love," Rhys smiled – it was not a comforting sight. No, it was dark and terrifying. I gasped when the tip of his cock traced my lip, his eyes glinting as he pushed it slowly into my warm mouth. "I'm going to fuck your throat."

He slammed the rest of his length into my mouth until he hit the back of my throat, and I was gagging and moaning and choking for air.

"Good girl," Rhys moaned, his cock stretching my mouth until my jaw ached and he seated so far down my throat I could feel every twitch. He pulled out after several seconds, beads of spit and cum lacing my lips and down my chest as I gasped for air. "Such a good girl."

I hummed at the praise, even as I felt my lungs burning from the lack of oxygen. But Rhys tasted so good, and he was moaning so loud as I slipped him back into my mouth, my throat going lax as he shoved his length in until he maxed out.

I gagged, desperately breathing through my nose as his hips rolled, every stroke dragging his pulsing cock in and out, hitting the back of my throat again and again. Rhys growled, a pure sound of pleasure, one of no control as he truly fucked my mouth raw.

Tears streaked down my face, drool dripped down my chin and onto my breasts and Rhys's hand fisted my hair brutally, keeping me in place while he drove his hips into my mouth. I moaned at the feel of him, every ragged breath he took making me that much more eager.

"That feels incredible, darling," Rhys hissed, his voice shaking as his climax neared. His cock twitched in my mouth, and I let my tongue graze along his shaft in a way that had him cursing. "This mouth is better than I had imagined."

I could feel my arousal leaking down my thighs at his words, and my eyes rolled when Rhys bucked his hips forward, burying himself so far, that my nose brushed the trail of hair at his navel. I could smell his sweet scent, addictive enough that it distracted me from the burning in my lungs, the full feeling of him shoved down my throat.

"Fuck," Rhys swore, and I whined as he tore my head back, his wet, angry cock slipping out. Air rushed into my lungs, spit dribbled down my chin and then Rhys was upon me, his head ducking down and crashing his lips to mine.

I could taste the wine in his mouth, could taste the possession on his tongue as he shoved it past my swollen lips and into me, battling and furious and needy. My fingers clawed and scratched along his marble skin, tracing the hard muscles and rippling abs, memorising the perfect feel of him.

"Rhys," I whined against his lips, breathless as his large, ringed hands kneaded along my body, grumbling in approval as he palmed the flesh at my hips and back and thighs, his eyes stark with lust as he pushed me to lie on my back.

"I know, I know," He crooned, a tint of arrogance and appreciation in his voice as he settled onto the bed, his arms bracing his towering figure over me, his hands guiding my thighs around his lean hips. "I'm impatient too, darling. I know you need it; I've got you."

My back arched as he grazed his nose along the side of my neck, his magnificent wings erecting high behind him as he inhaled the sweet, sweaty scent of me. I was breathless as he touched my skin, touched my flesh like I was a dream come to fruition.

"Cauldron, I wish I had time to get my head between these soft thighs," His teeth scraped my nipple, his hands parting my thighs as he rubbed his tip through my soaking wet folds. "I'd have my tongue fucking your sweet hole until you came all over my face. Until you were begging me to stop."

For a second, I nearly begged him to do exactly that, nearly begged for the feel of his tongue and teeth, for the burn of his skilled fingers slipping inside me. But then he rubbed his hard length against me again, smearing my wetness and I couldn't wait another moment.

"Stop talking Rhys,” I snarled, my fingers curling around his short raven hair, dragging his face up to mine. He chuckled at the ire and frustration behind my words, behind my touch as I pressed desperate kisses to his lips, "I want you to fuck me. Now." 

“Such dirty words for such a pretty mouth,” Rhysand laughed against my lips, a hint of violence tinging his tone, his touch, as he toyed his tip against my swollen clit. “I’ll have to think of a better punishment to remedy that. But right now – “

I screamed as he drove his hips forward, shoving his hard, pulsing length into me in one forceful thrust.

“Rhys!”

An explosion of pain and pleasure, like stars erupting through my core as Rhysand forced his way into me, stretching my sore walls, languishing in the wetness of my arousal until he maxed out. Pain and pleasure –  it was all I knew.

“Cauldron, you’re fucking incredible,” Rhys growled into my ear, his hands bruising against my waist as he forced my flailing body against the bed. He pulled out to the tip, the sound filthy as he pushed back in, moaning as he did so. “So fucking incredible.”

“Rhys, oh Gods –“

I was crying out for him as his pace picked up, my walls moulding around him perfectly as he fucked me, that pain fading into pure, unfiltered pleasure. He grunted with every roll of his hips, his lips suckling my pulse point and reverberating his noises against me, through me.

Rhys scraped his canines against the junction of my throat possessively, marking me as he fucked his hips against me again and again, tits and body jolting with every stroke. I keened when he threw my leg over his shoulder, kissing my knee before he sunk so deep, I thought he’d tear me in two.

“Right there,” He panted,  sweat coating his forehead as he grinned down at me. I gasped, breathless as he pressed a hand down on the stomach – pressed down on the imprint of his cock shaped there. “You feel how deep I am, darling? Feel how far my cock is inside you?”

“S-so deep,” I blubbered, my words half caught between a sob and a moan as my walls fisted tighter and tighter, that familiar pool filling within me, filling more and more as Rhys whispered those dirty words and fucked me raw. “It’s so deep, Rhys.”

‘Look at you’ Rhys’s rumbling, arrogant voice filled my mind, mixed in with his stark arousal and overwhelming praise, ‘Crying for me, all fucked out and ready to come around my cock.’

His lips slammed against mine, all biting teeth and furious, exploring tongue and I could feel my orgasm ripping down my spine, feel it building at the apex of my thighs as he hit a spot within me, again and again and again. Something that felt so fucking good.

‘Come for me, darling,’ Rhys commanded through my mind, a bolt of obsidian power sparking along my nerves and through my whole body. I yelped, crying out at that feeling.

He sent another bolt, in tandem with the sweet, brutal roll of his hips and suddenly I was coming.

“Rhys, Rhys –“

White hot power splitting my core in two, strong enough that all I could do was arch my back and curl my toes, letting my body turn stiff and hard as Rhysand rocked into me, longing out the pleasure for what felt like hours.

I was coming and coming and coming. I couldn’t fucking breathe as Rhys ruined me.

“That’s my girl,” He gritted out, kissing my cheek, my jaw, my neck, teeth and spit and tongue as he fucked erratically into me. His climax was close, I was fluttering around him so furiously, that I knew he was close.

“Fill me up, Rhys,” I begged him, my orgasm dwindling and all my nerves endings on fire as he stroked and stroked and stroked. Rhys whimpered – actually whimpered, as I dragged my hand through the inner part of his wing, trembling behind him from the contact. “Want you to fill me up so bad.”

I touched his wing with a whisper of a caress again and again, until Rhys was cursing, until his beautiful body was trembling against me, and he was making noises I would kill, actually kill, to hear again.

“You beautiful – “ Thrust. “Cruel – “ Thrust. “Wicked –“ Thrust. “Thing –“ Thrust.

His hand brushed my clit as he rocked his twitching cock into me, harder and faster now. I felt the dwindling tendrils of my first orgasm before they began erupting like flames as a second barrelled into me.

“Rhys – “ I sobbed his name, scratching my nails along the talon atop his right wing. And as my core exploded with another all-consuming climax, Rhys reached his peak too.

He reached that peak roaring.

“Fuck –“ He curses as his climax hit him, obsidian mist erupting from him and blanketing the room as he halted inside me. I moaned, my walls clenching and unclenching as I felt him spill endlessly inside me, his wings and body tensed and shaking under my hands.

Our moans and releases were furious and strong enough that I felt the posters of my bed shaking, Rhysand’s face buried in the crook of my neck, moaning, and panting for breath as his hips came to a total stop. My walls pulsed, and his cock twitched in response as if our orgasms had become one.

Rhys laughs roughly against my throat, his canines grazing my sensitive skin as he collapses against me, both our chests rising and falling in shattered waves. It reminded me of that first day in the cabin, how he had been so euphoric as I ground against him until he came.

“That was a good day for me,” Rhys sighed, head lifting so his violet eyes met mine. So bright, so happy. “Almost as good as last week when you came all over my hand.”

I blushed, his grin broadening at the sheepish smile I gave him. He dipped his head, kissing my lips sweetly, a satisfied groan rumbling through him as his tongue gently explored mine.

“I hope you’re aware that this means you’re stuck with me, darling,” Rhys smirked, forehead resting against mine. He was still inside me, and it felt more than right. His eyes glinted, daring me to challenge him. “No male will ever touch you again.”

“Is that a decree, High Lord?” I gnawed on my lip, giggling at the way his eyes narrowed. My giggle erupted into a laugh as Rhys began peppering kisses against my cheek and jaw.

“Yes,” He growled, nipping my skin with his teeth, “That’s an order. With the penalty of death for any male who does otherwise.”

“Good,” I grinned, my heart skipping at his dark, tempting words. I cupped his jaw, bringing his eyes back to mine. “Because if another female so much as looks at you, Rhys – I will pluck her eyes out.”

“Fuck, I love it when you get violent,” He groaned, fingers digging into my waist possessively. “It makes me want to do very filthy things to you.”

“I’m all yours, Rhys,” I smiled, a hint of sincerity mixed with lewd intent in my eyes. “Do with me what you will. Unless you plan to be somewhere else tonight?”

His eyes flashed, stars exploding, shadows coiling, and I felt him harden in me again, my walls stretching inch by inch until I was soaked around him.

“I’ll be here, with you,” He whispered, his nose brushing mine and I whimpered when he rolled his hips, stroking his cock inside me slowly. “I’ll always stay with you.”

----------------------------

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[butch-with-a-deep-voice]

Long-Distance date/bonding ideas I've learned while making it work with my femme

Streamed Movie Night: Discord has a function that let's you stream video and gaming alike! I'd recommend Nitro because otherwise stream quality is gonna SUCK (and you need to do some weird fiddling to get services like Netflix to work) but you can enjoy movie night with your boo

Tabletop Simulator: If you both have about $20, and a computer with even a low budget graphics processor, this program is invaluable. The base games are neat but the real trove is in the Steam Workshop. Mod makers upload hundreds of boardgames from Catan to Azul to outright heavy ones like D&D and Warhammer. My femme and I now have a weekly boardgame night (she actively challenges me at strategy games and it makes me so happy to have a partner that does 🥰)

Coffee shop dates: Go to a place where the shop has wifi (or you have a really good data plan with your phone), pop your headphones in, and just video call. I promise you, there will be more people there who find it sweet than those who find it weird.

Spotify Jam Sessions: I don't know about other music apps, but we both have spotify and it now has a function that let's you invite others to a shared listening session. Music is really important to both my femme and myself, and the ability for us to literally listen at the same time and talk about the music is truly quite lovely.

Parallel crafting time: Admittedly, I'm Neurodivergent as hell, and parallel play baseline is big for me. But pop on a videocall and make some crafts together. Bonus points if you get similar materials and share what you've made together

Call every night: no seriously, even if you both are busy the entire day and can't talk, call for at least a half hour or so to round your day off. That lack of certain forms of intimacy means you need to be really on top of other forms. On top of affirming love for one another. If you're trying to make long distance work long term, calling to just. Be with eachother is so important.

Schedule Time: As an extension of the above, just because you're calling every day, doesn't mean ensuring you have dedicated time for eachother isn't important. I'm talking like. An afternoon/evening once a week type thing. Be together for a long period of time while you can't be physically together.

Technology has honestly made what I always thought impossible for myself feel possible. The advent of videocalling my femme every day helps so much of the potential pitfalls that could have happened, and the best part is its more or less free (I pay for discord nitro but I digress). Don't get me wrong I'm having my hard days still. The inability to hold her when I want to take care of her is particularly bad. I show care and love through things like physical touch and food so much. But getting creative, and being consistent have really made this feel possible and sustainable until we get to the "next stages" bridge.

If you have ideas you found fun/helpful please toss em in the replies, tags, etc. Always open to more date ideas with my girl 💕

#we also do regular check ins but honestly you should be doing that IRL too #oh vampling... 💕 #long distance #long distance relationship #bite me #lesbian #butch #sapphic #butch/femme

[ddarker-dreams]

Waning Moon.

Yan Giorno x F Reader. Commissioned piece.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, religions symbolism and codependency (???). Word count: 3k.

You don’t remember it being this difficult to stay up late. 

As a child, the concept was so novel that the excitement alone sustained you. Streetlamps illuminated a world that fell into stasis until the sun poked its head over in the east, all creation held its breath in anticipation. You’d settle into this valley between loneliness and the closest you’d ever get to peace. 

There was only you and that was frightening. 

There was only you and that was comforting. 

As an adult, staying up late requires intentionality, willpower, and caffeine. Lots of caffeine. 

The allure of courting a silent relationship with the moon might not be as mystifying, but the charm isn’t entirely lost with age. It has remained constant while you endured an upheaval you never expected. Constants become anchors in an otherwise restless sea. Come what may, you know this for certain — the moon will rise every night over a villa whose doors don’t unlock at your behest. 

Sighing, you shut the book in your hands and rub your eyes. You haven’t been able to retain any of the words on the pages. It reminds you of those late nights spent hunched over at your desk, diligently studying for the esame di stato. Whenever you began to doze off, you’d chastise yourself; this pertained to your future, after all. Never could you have fathomed your life would unravel the way it did. 

It’s this bitter sentiment that makes you question what exactly you’re trying to accomplish here. 

Is it boredom that’s encouraged this desire to stick your nose in Giorno’s affairs? Spite? You cannot say for certain. 

For a week now (you presume, at least, keeping track of the days has lost its luster), the individual who uprooted your life has been notably absent. No matter how tumultuous his affairs were, he made it a point to at least join you for breakfast or dinner, if not both. Such is his wish to lend an air of normalcy to this dubious union. Lately, you’ve only seen him in passing, as if he were a specter haunting the hall and not the man who holds the deed. 

What remained consistent, however, is his return to your shared bedroom to sleep. Physiological needs are the great equalizer. You don’t know how, but he can slip into bed without waking you. Had it not been for the wrinkled bed sheets and the lingering aroma of cologne come morning, you never would’ve known he’d been there. 

You thought if you stayed up long enough, you might entertain a conversation that lasted longer than a few minutes. Morbid curiosity is a surprisingly strong motivator. 

Unfortunately, reality rarely aligns with your hopes. It’s currently three in the morning and there’s been no sign of Giorno. You refasten your silk robe upon standing, appraising the master suite for some means to preoccupy yourself. It’s when your weary eyes land on the canopy bed that your resolve is tested. Really, what is it you’re trying to do? Have a heart-to-heart with the man who controls the country from the shadows? Get in a few more sarcastic quips before calling it a day? 

It’s this challenge to your original design that has you walking over to your side of the bed. 

That is, until your name is spoken by the door. 

You freeze where you stand, feeling akin to a child caught with one hand in the cookie jar. You never gave much thought to if you’re breaking some unspoken rule by dilly-dallying all night. At the very least, Giorno wouldn’t appreciate the damage to your health. He’s never harsh with his chastising — if you can even call it that — but you’re in uncharted territory. A week of sleeping three to four hours could make a sinner of the most steadfast saint. 

He repeats your name, likely assuming you didn’t hear him the first time, and you swallow thickly. 

“I, um…” you trail off, playing with the ends of your hair, “I just felt like… walking around…?” 

It occurs to you then that he never asked what you were doing, he simply said your name. This unprompted confession paired with your conspicuous body language paints you in a guilty light. 

Silence hangs in the room. 

You count the seconds as they trudge by — seven, eight, nine — each addition feeling as if they’re intensifying gravity. Threatened by the prospect of being crushed beneath this force, you pivot, forcing yourself to face him and better gauge your situation. A mannequin that’d just been brought to life would move far more naturally than you. 

Turquoise eyes stare back. They’re inquisitive, maybe, but not scrutinizing. You visibly relax. 

“So I didn’t wake you?”

You shake your head. 

“Was there something you needed, then?” 

You’re about to shake your head again when the clouds outside part. 

Silvery shades flood the room and envelop Giorno’s side profile. It illuminates his countenance, from the soft curls of his golden hair to his rosy lips and sharp jawline. You’ve become familiar with his features throughout the years. That’s why the slightest deviation catches your attention, as if you were an antiquarian charged with determining if a piece of art were fake or genuine. His complexion is duller and bags are forming beneath his eyes. 

“You look exhausted,” you remark. 

“Isn’t that considered a rude thing to say to someone?” is his reply. 

You frown at his lighthearted tone. He’s still wearing a suit, which means whatever he came back from was business related. From this distance, you feel there are details you’re still missing, so you close the gap. It’s unusual to be near Giorno — especially of your own volition — yet this burning need to make sense of things spurs you on. Standing before him, you narrow your eyes. He finds your behavior far too perplexing to speak. 

You’ve always felt Giorno possesses an otherworldly quality that sets him apart from the common rabble, yourself included. This quiet magnetism, steadfast determination, and insightfulness forged from a life of having the odds stacked against him. Consequently, the fact he’s made of flesh and blood often eludes you. So ingrained in your mind is this concept of him being on a pedestal, high and untouchable as Michelangelo’s David. The present predicament is at odds with this lofty image. 

His skin is warm when you take his hand in yours. So he isn’t made of Carrara marble, then. 

Giorno does nothing to challenge your uncharacteristic boldness when you lead him to your destination. By your prompting, he sits on the bed’s edge, utterly transfixed on the link that connects your bodies. It’s like the simple contact placed a spell over him. You take a seat by his side, retrieving your hand while you do so. He almost reaches to take it back before thinking better of it. 

“There must be something pretty serious going on,” you point out. “What is it?” 

“It’s… a heavy subject matter. I wouldn’t want to unnecessarily burden you.” 

You hold up your left hand for him. In doing so, the diamond on your wedding ring catches the moonlight and gleams. “Is this just for show, then? Marriage is about sharing burdens.” 

He chuckles softly, though there’s a certain melancholy to the sound. “I thought you didn’t like to consider me your husband.” 

“The Catholic Church frowns on divorce. Now, enough with trying to change the subject,” you maintain unwavering eye contact. “There are a lot of people who rely on Passione, and you, by extension. You keep the worst of things in check. I might have my… reservations about the specifics, but even I can’t deny that.”

Taking a deep breath, you add, “So, if talking might help you, then… talk. There’s too much at stake to get caught up in petty feelings.” 

For a moment, he closes his eyes, contemplating. He’s always been one to indulge you whenever he can, especially since you rarely ask for anything. 

“Alright. I’ll tell you on one condition, although I must insist on not getting into the details.” 

You squirm in your seat. “And said condition is…?” 

There’s a mischievous tint to his eyes when he reopens them. “Have you been waiting for me all night? Answer truthfully.” 

“I haven’t—!” 

“Truthfully, [First].” 

You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “... Yes.” 

Instead of teasing you, as he enjoys doing, he gives you a gentle smile. The kind he reserves solely for you. He squeezes your hand but doesn’t allow his touch to overstay its welcome. He could take so much more from you and still, he exercises restraint. Is it because it’d shatter the illusion that he was doing all of this to ‘keep you safe’ if he acted on carnality? His commitment to the farce is almost enough to convince you. 

“Thank you, regardless of whatever the reason for it may have been,” Giorno’s sincerity is undeniably stirring. This is the Don of Passione — a man who can win over the undying loyalty of others within a single conversation. Falling into his rhythm is as easy as breathing, he sets such an enticing tempo. 

“You aren’t going back on your word, are you?” You challenge, wanting to distract yourself from this budding feeling in your chest. Whether it be resentment or apathy, he’s capable of chipping away at the walls you form before you realize what’s happening. It should be simple, in theory. Loathing the man who took your freedom and never plans to give it back. It should be very simple. 

But when he looks at you as he does now, like he’d reach into his chest and tear out his heart if only you asked, you’re at a loss. 

“Giorno? What is it?” 

His pupils dilate when his name leaves your lips. This spacing out is unlike him, he’s the keenest person you’ve ever met. It’s the reason why you’ve never been able to get one over him. You’re about to snap your fingers in front of his face when he clears his throat. 

“Ah, it’s nothing, just… well… every time I look at you, every time you speak,” he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear, “I learn what it’s like to fall in love all over again.” 

Heat rises to your cheeks and stays there. Exhaustion must be lowering his inhibitions, you can’t fathom him saying this otherwise. The sentiment is always there, playing softly in the background, but now it’s at a volume you can’t drown out. You shiver all over. This is a man who’d make an enemy of the world if it meant winning your favor. Such intensity, such raw attachment, bewilders and leaves you unable to form words. 

Seeing the goosebumps on your forearm, he shrugs his wool blazer off and drapes it over your shoulders. His body heat consumes you. 

“And of course I won’t go back on my word — not with you. Some setbacks that we thought were coincidences are occurring too frequently to be written off. The natural conclusion is that there’s a mole somewhere in the upper ranks. This betrayal… or the beginnings of one… resurfaces some memories. I intend to see to it quickly.” 

As he warned, you’re receiving a sanitized version of the events, but it’s enough to dispel your curiosity. You jump on the chance to move past his unexpected confession. The tender words threatened to give new life to emotions that are better off dead. 

“Be as that may, you’ll be no good to anyone if you don’t get enough sleep.” 

“I’ve been taking naps when the time allows.” 

“That isn’t good enough,” you protest. “You might have youth on your side, but that doesn’t mean you can’t work yourself into an early grave. Properly caring for yourself is a part of the job.” 

Giorno seems to find your insistence amusing. He covers a smile with his hand, laughing lightly to himself. It’s during these displays of boyish charm that his many daunting titles melt away. You’re forcefully drawn back into the rose-colored days of your fledgling love, when his true identity remained a secret, and you saw only what he wanted you to see. What you wouldn’t give to rewind time and relive it again. Long walks on the beach with the Tyrrhenian Sea’s mist kissing your cheeks, morning dates at your favorite caffé where you’d tease him for always ordering the same drink… it was paradise in more ways than one. 

Alas, once you’ve been forcefully ejected from the Garden of Eden, the gate to return is shut for eternity. 

When Giorno recomposes himself, he breaks the silence. 

“I’m truly grateful that you haven’t changed.” 

“Hm?” 

You tilt your head. That wistful expression of his punctures your heart, no matter how hard you try to turn the organ to stone. 

“I was prepared for anything. For you to curse me, hate me. I anticipated and accepted the possibility. What I feared most, though, was the thought of you losing what makes you… well, you. It’d be understandable, given the circumstances, but… the warmth you radiate is as strong as ever. I’m glad.” 

Unable to withstand the weight of his gaze, you avert your attention to your lap, head hanging low. 

“That’s a selfish thing to want, considering everything.” 

If it hurts you to say it, you can only imagine how it makes him feel.

He inhales sharply. “I know. I’m plenty selfish when it comes to you.”

This admission takes you aback. Never has he been so forthcoming about his motivation, not without interweaving sugary sentiments to make the sour truth more palatable. There was always a convenient excuse. That your romantic relationship with him puts you in danger, how this arrangement is to ensure your safety, on and on the list of sickeningly sweet platitudes would go. The puzzle pieces he provided never fit properly. 

The word ‘selfish’ completes the otherwise unfinished picture. 

“You were right. Talking to you does help,” Giorno admits. By the way he says it, you’d think you had just magically solved every problem and tied it up in a bow. 

“Honestly, I don’t think I did much of anything.” 

He sighs at that. You could insult him at the top of your lungs and he wouldn’t flinch, but the moment you’re the least bit critical of yourself, he takes it as a personal offense. 

“Not many people are willing to scold me for not taking care of myself. In fact… you might be the only one,” he muses. 

Your heart sinks and you curl your hands into fists. The nails digging into your palm may hurt, but it’s nothing compared to the ache of your soul. For all he knows about you, Giorno Giovanna is almost an enigma, as far as you’re concerned. The most minuscule acts of kindness stuck out to him like glittering treasures. When you made him home-cooked meals, called him to ask about his day, picked up on the changes in his mood; there’d be this aura of reverence about him. 

How must a person grow up to be in awe of what you’ve always considered to be the bare minimum? 

“On the topic of being selfish, there is something else I want.” 

Perhaps in your sentimentality, you’ve been spoiling him too much. 

“What do you— eek!” 

Strong arms secure themselves around your form and pull you in close. Your eyes widen, lips parting to release protests that never form. Giorno’s body may seem lithe, but he has no issues maneuvering your body as if you were a ragdoll. Still, he treats you with the utmost care, rubbing his hands over your back in a soothing motion. You’re certain if you made a fuss, he’d let you go. You can’t find the motivation to do so. The two of you are exhausted, for reasons that differ and overlap. 

While you don’t reciprocate his embrace, you don’t try to wriggle out of it. This is reason enough for him to tighten his grip. 

… Indeed, he is acting rather spoiled. 

“Are you fed up with me?” He asks. 

“I’m slowly getting there.” 

You feel his chest rumble when he chuckles. “Bear with me just a while longer, then.” 

His lips brush over your forehead in a daring kiss. Your muscles go taut and your heart hammers hard enough that you can hear it. He allows himself to linger there a while longer, though he makes no attempts to repeat the act. Instead, he soaks in your presence, each second worth its weight in gold. 

“Giorno?”

He hums, showing you have his rapt attention. 

“About what you said earlier,” there’s a tremble in your voice you can’t hide, owing to the tightness in your throat, “I haven’t ever hated you. I… I don’t think I can.” 

His breath hitches. 

“But… I do know I can’t love you the way I used to either.” 

“Do you want to?”  

“Sometimes.” 

“And that scares you, doesn’t it?” 

“... Yes.” 

Giorno knows you from the inside out. Everything you consist of, from your best to your worst qualities, he’s seen it all. If you ever broke, he could rebuild you again from memory alone. That’s why despite everything, being vulnerable around him comes naturally. Caring about him too, no matter how you try to twist your reasoning to make yourself feel better. Once you’ve given someone your heart, taking it back in its entirety is impossible, some pieces will remain in their possession. 

“It’s alright, no matter what conclusion you arrive at,” he decides. He buries his nose in the crown of your head. “So long as you’re alive and well, I can accept anything.” 

Much to his surprise, you rest your head against his chest, the strength to hold yourself upright steadily draining. He readjusts his hold to ensure you’re as comfortable as you can be. 

“It must be sad, thinking the way you do.” 

From how little a reaction he gives, you almost think he didn’t hear you. 

“A little,” he admits after a thoughtful pause. “Being without you, though… that’d be far, far worse.” 

If reentry to the Garden is denied, then he’ll replicate its beauty to give the impression you never left. 

#giorno x reader #yandere giorno x reader #jjba x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #yandere x reader #yandere jjba x reader #yandere #yandere giorno giovanna x reader #commissions #my stuff

[littleragondin]

Goodbye and thanks for all the love ｡o○♡

So here we are. After five fantastic weeks, it's time to say goodbye to Nomoto, Kasuga, Yako and Nagumo. I miss them already, even though I don't think any of them will truly leave me for a good, long while.

This show is just beautiful. It may seem unassuming, quiet and more leisurely than a lot of other shows but it's worth the watch. I can only recommend it - I said it before, but do yourself this favor. I think everyone can find something healing and comforting in this story of gentle, caring people being kind to each other. In the messages it shares with you with a tenderness and reassurance that made me soft.

Watch the show for how it tells you that not following the expected path society and family have for you may come with struggles but it's still worth it, that you need to go after your happiness and that there will be people here for you through it. That it's never too late to do those things that will make you happy.

For the way it gently takes your hand and tells you that yes, there are challenges, and hard times, and difficult emotions, and pain, but that there is kindness and there is love, too - and that will help. For how it reminds you that you have to be a little selfish to sustain love, be it platonic or romantic, accepting help and voicing your need and reaching out to hang out. And yet, that you are not a burden. That the people who love you want to spend time with you, to do things you will love, to cook for you and share a meal.

Watch it for so many more reason, because I honestly think everyone will find something in there that resonate with them and their experience, that may even help them feel seen.

On a more personal note, as someone who lives far away from their family and doesn't have a lot of people around them IRL (let alone other queer people), it felt so healing to see Nomoto and Kasuga, who are about my age, have those realizations a little later in life, and find those connections anyway. To follow Nomoto discovering herself and to see her be assured that there is not right or wrong way to be who she is and that she knows what label fits her. To see Kasuga slowly opening herself to new experiences. To watch them fall in love and make new friends and build their life and their family the way that makes them happy and fulfilled. All of this brought me such comfort and gave me so much hope that things will be ok.

So goodbye ladies, but hopefully not farewell. I hope we get to see more of you, of your little family and your friends, of that new start we are ending this part of the story on. Thank you @furritsubs for making this available to those of us who don't speak Japanese (and for all the little cultural and culinary notes along the way, they truly enhanced the experience!~♡).

And to the show itself and everyone who made it... Thank you for those stories, thank you for the kindness with which everyone is treated, thank you for the warmth, the gentleness, the ever present love.

And most of all, thank you for the hope.

#Tsukuritai onna to tabetai onna #She Loves to Cook and She Loves to Eat #this show has consistently felt like the most gentle hug - it made me happy and it made me cry and it mostly made me feel better #i don't think I have loved a show this dearly in a very very long while #certainly none has spoken to me so deeply before I think #the show touches on seeing representation on screen when Nomoto watches lesbian movies #and this show? this show felt like being seen #words

[prettieinpink]

IMPROVING YOUR LIFE ASPECTS: THE LITTLE HABITS

Hello girlies and genitals, I am aware that my posts haven’t been up to my standard lately but thank you so much for 220+ followers. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you to be apart of this blog and I wish for us to grow into the best versions of ourselves.

Today, I have something special to celebrate: a collaboration with everyone’s favourite, honey! ( @honeytonedhottie )Thank you honey for this idea of a collab, which has been so fun talking and it’s been a pleasure working with you, I hope we do another one in the future. If you haven’t already, go and follow honey(the best decision trust)!

her part of this collab is here ! go read it and follow her yall

GENERAL

habits that are uncategorised or improve multiple aspects of your life <3

Prioritising yourself. Put yourself over anyone else, even if it effects them. I know it’s harsh, but put on your oxygen mask before helping others.

Establishing routines in your daily life. Morning, evening, study, workout etc, we humans thrive on routines.

Start implementing small things to look forward to during the day. Whether it’s drinking a hot beverage before bed, or going out on a walk in the sun, just having these things makes it easier for us to get through the day.

Curate your social media, ensure what you are feeding your mind is nourishing it, not destroying it. + avoid any mental clutter from your feed

Saying positive affirmations to yourself before the day! It’s an nice way to pump yourself up.

Set boundaries. Not only with others, but yourself. Don’t allow yourself to sleep late constantly or have over 8 hours of screen time.

Learn how to say no. Saying no is now considered a powerful tool for someone to have because we then allow the things we do want to come in our lives and guard ourselves from things we don’t want in our lives.

Setting one daily goal! It doesn’t have to be a difficult or challenging one, but preferably something you feel uncomfortable about doing.

EDUCATION

Being educated is the most powerful asset nowadays, besides, learning is the best beauty regimen!

Reading a few news articles a day, being updated with the latest news in your country and community is a great advantage in general and a way to stimulate your mind

Reading paperback/hard copy books is another great way to stimulate your mind without scrolling endlessly. You learn new experiences and ideas, and gain more empathy for others.

Learning another language! This is extremely useful because when we learn it, we stimulate another part of our brain that is usually inactive + a great thing to put on resumes or applications.

Having high quality sleep actually helps with long term memory and sustaining everything you’ve learnt in the day. 6-8 hours in an ideal number of sleep.

Taking regular breaks which are productive,this is so important for sustaining your motivation and avoiding burnout. E.g going out for a walk, meditation, Journalling

Spending a few hours a day without relying on electronic devices. Social media and more will put so much mental clutter in your head, being away from it allows for mental clarity.

Doing focus meditations before doing any deep work. This allows you to stay on task for much longer and rids of any mental clutter.

Talking to others who have more expertise than you and listening, but you do not have to agree with them, it’s just valuable to have another person’s perspective and experience.

Challenge yourself daily and start being comfortable with feeling uncomfortable. Research about topics you dislike, do things you struggle at at least once a week.

PERSONALITY

Being charming, but still being down to earth to yourself while maintaining good relationships with others allows for happiness + harmony within you.

Sharpen up your vocabulary and learn to pronounce words that are difficult. People who are clear and concise speakers are automatically magnetic.

Learning how to use more advanced words in daily conversations, it gives off a more sophisticated and educated vibe to others.

Be passionate about the things and people you love, even if looked down upon by others. Trust, because everything that you love will come in abundance.

Making an effort to truly listen and understand someone. Engage with them, ask open ended questions and maintaining open body language. People will be so much more interested about who you are as a person.

Be genuine. Not only to others, but also yourself. People naturally gravitate to those who know themselves and their values.

Being truly kind to others. Always lend out a helping hand, even if you know they wouldn’t have done the same for you. Whatever you put out, will come back.

Relating to the previous point, don’t be afraid to ask for help from others. While you should strive to be independent, allow yourself to receive and be provided for.

Work towards being confident. Not only in your physical appearance but also your abilities, your standing in life and your environment. The only validation you should get is from you!

Smile, even if you’re not in the mood for it, smiling actually boosts our mood and the moods of others + it gives off more approachable vibes.

Start complimenting others, even if you do not believe that compliment yourself. We make ourselves more approachable and kinder to others, but it also will change our mind to be more positive and accepting.

PHYSICAL APPEARANCE

Keep up with that beautiful, sexy, cute, perfect face babes. Make looking yourself in the mirror your favourite pastime and bless others with the privilege of seeing you.

Your smile is the best part about yourself. Brush those pearly whites, use mouthwash and floss. If really nesscessary use a teeth serum.

Do yoga and stretches to improve your posture. You’ll notice different parts of your body improving, like your jaw, hump neck etc.

Start nose breathing. A small one for sure, but it can make or break you in the long run.

Sleep on your back, your mouth is closed so you don’t breath through it and it helps with symmetry of your face.

Create a beauty planner. Plan what you want to do for yourself, whether it’s at home or done professionally, plan on what days you do it, the products you use, the vibe you’re going for etc

Create a closet you feel confident in. The l rarest and expensive thing you can wear is confidence in yourself.

Start sanitising your hands regularly. Even if we try, we still touch our face during the day. Instead of trying to fight against it, just make sure your hands are clean.

Smell good, there’s tons of tutorials out there that outline how to be smelling good all day. It makes you feel good and others moods will boost around you.

Change pillowcases like once a week, it can easily get dirty and can affect your skin and hair.

Keep track of your beauty products and when they expire, but if anything of that substance changes even mildly, throw it!

#that girl #wonyoungism #clean girl #becoming her #becoming that girl #it girl #girl blog #girlblogger #just girly things #girl blogger #glow up era #glow up #self healing #self love #self care #self improvement #self growth #personal growth #pink pilates girl #pink pilates princess #pink pill #smart girls #green juice girl #just girly posts #girly stuff #vanilla girl #pretty academia #pretty privilege #pretty and smart #hot and educated

[zapreportsblog]

Carlisle and Esme meeting underweight reader?

❝the doctor knows best❞

✭ pairing : Carlisle Cullen x reader x Esme Cullen

✭ fandom : twilight

✭ summary : (y/n) has always been on the underweight side and over time she begin to feel self conscious so she seeks help from her local doctor and even gets a bit of inside help along the way

✭ twilight masterlist 2

(Y/N) had always struggled with her weight. It seemed like an endless battle she couldn't win, no matter how hard she tried. She had always been on the underweight side, her slender frame a source of both frustration and concern. Her friends would envy her seemingly effortless ability to eat without gaining, but they didn't see the other side of the coin - the constant anxiety, the unhealthy habits, and the feeling of helplessness that came with it.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the small town of Forks, (Y/N) couldn't ignore the nagging feeling in her stomach any longer. She knew she needed help, but admitting it to herself was a struggle in its own right. She'd spent years keeping this hidden from everyone, even her family.

Gathering her courage, she decided it was time to seek professional advice. With a heavy heart and trembling hands, she dialed the number for the local hospital and scheduled an appointment. It was a step into the unknown, but she couldn't continue like this.

The following week, (Y/N) found herself sitting in the sterile waiting room of the Forks Hospital, her anxiety building with each passing second. Her heart raced, and she clutched her purse tightly, feeling more vulnerable than ever.

"Ms. (Y/L/N)?" a soft voice called from the doorway. Startled, she looked up to see a kind, blond-haired man in a white lab coat. "I'm Dr. Carlisle Cullen. Please, come with me."

Carlisle's warm smile immediately put (Y/N) at ease. She followed him down a long corridor to an examination room, where he motioned for her to take a seat on the examination table.

"Tell me, (Y/N), what brings you here today?" Carlisle asked, his blue eyes filled with genuine concern.

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment, but the pain and frustration she had carried for so long finally spilled out. She confessed her struggles with maintaining a healthy weight, the constant fear of gaining, and the cycle of binging and purging that had dominated her life. Tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke, and Carlisle listened attentively, never once judging her.

After a thoughtful pause, Carlisle said, "Thank you for sharing this with me, (Y/N). It's essential that you've taken this step to seek help. I'm here to support you in your journey to a healthier life. First, I'd like to run some tests to assess your overall health, and then we can discuss a plan to help you gain weight in a safe and sustainable way."

Relief washed over (Y/N) as she realized that she had found someone who understood her struggle and was willing to help. She nodded, her gratitude shining through her teary eyes.

Carlisle smiled reassuringly. "We'll take this one step at a time, (Y/N). I promise you won't be alone in this. Let's schedule another appointment after your tests, and by then, I should have a personalized meal plan tailored to your needs."

As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, she felt a glimmer of hope she hadn't felt in years. With Dr. Carlisle Cullen's guidance, she was ready to embark on a new journey toward a healthier and happier life, leaving her old burdens behind and embracing the promise of a brighter future.

As Carlisle stepped through the door of their stately home in Forks, the warm embrace of familiarity enveloped him. Esme, his beloved wife, was there to greet him as she always was. Her golden eyes sparkled with affection as she looked at him.

"Look at you, my hard at work doctor," Esme purred, her arms encircling Carlisle as she pressed a soft kiss to his lips.

Carlisle returned the kiss, savoring the tenderness of their connection. "Work was challenging, but fulfilling, my dear," he replied, his fingers gently caressing her cheek.

Esme's curiosity was piqued. She always enjoyed hearing about Carlisle's day, knowing how dedicated he was to his profession. "Tell me, love, how was work today?"

Carlisle smiled and led Esme to the cozy living room, where they settled on the plush couch. He began recounting his day, sharing the various cases and medical challenges he had encountered at the hospital.

"And then," Carlisle continued, "I met a young woman who's been struggling with being underweight for most of her life. She came seeking help to gain weight in a healthy way."

Esme's interest was instantly piqued. She had always been a nurturing soul, and the idea of helping someone regain their health struck a chord with her. "That sounds like a noble cause," she mused. "Do you have a plan in mind for her?"

Carlisle nodded. "I'll be in my office working on a personalized meal plan for her. It's essential that we help her find a balance and improve her overall well-being."

Esme's eyes sparkled with eagerness. She knew how much Carlisle enjoyed his work, but she also knew how much he valued her assistance in certain matters. "May I be of help, my love?"

Carlisle's gaze softened as he looked at his beautiful wife. He knew how much joy she found in the art of cooking, and her expertise in the kitchen was unparalleled. "Perhaps you can, my love," he said with a gentle smile. "Your culinary skills might be just what she needs to make this journey more enjoyable and successful."

Esme's heart swelled with affection for her husband. She knew that together, they could make a real difference in this young woman's life. "Then let's work together to create a meal plan that will not only nourish her body but also warm her heart."

As the evening unfolded, Carlisle and Esme sat side by side in his office, poring over nutrition guidelines and designing a meal plan that would be both effective and delicious. In their united efforts, they found a deeper connection and a shared sense of purpose, ready to help their new patient on the path to a healthier and happier life.

The next day, as the sun cast its soft morning rays over Forks, Carlisle was filled with a renewed sense of purpose as he prepared for his appointment with (Y/N). He had spent the previous evening with Esme, meticulously crafting a meal plan that would address (Y/N)'s nutritional needs and gradually help her gain the weight she so desperately sought.

As he entered the hospital's examination room, he found (Y/N) sitting there, a mix of apprehension and hope in her eyes. He couldn't help but smile warmly as he greeted her. "Good morning, (Y/N). I hope you're feeling well today."

(Y/N) offered a small but genuine smile in return. "Good morning, Dr. Cullen. Thank you for seeing me again."

Carlisle took a seat across from her, his expression reassuring. "Of course, (Y/N). I've taken some time to put together a meal plan that I believe will help you achieve your goals in a healthy and sustainable way." He slid a neatly printed sheet of paper across the table toward her.

(Y/N) eagerly picked up the meal plan, her eyes scanning the contents. It was clear that Carlisle had put a lot of thought and care into it. Her apprehension began to melt away as she saw the balanced meals and the variety of foods.

"I should mention," Carlisle said with a warm smile, "that my wife, Esme, helped me create this meal plan. She's an exceptional cook and has a real knack for making nutritious food taste delicious. We thought her expertise might make this journey a bit more enjoyable for you."

(Y/N)'s eyes lit up with gratitude. "That's so kind of both of you, Dr. Cullen. Please thank your wife for me. I truly appreciate all the help."

Carlisle nodded, pleased to see (Y/N) looking hopeful. "You're very welcome, (Y/N). Remember, you're not alone in this. We're here to support you every step of the way. If you have any questions or concerns, don't hesitate to reach out."

As (Y/N) left the hospital that day, clutching the meal plan in her hand, she felt a newfound sense of optimism. With the guidance of Dr. Carlisle Cullen and the support of his caring wife, Esme, she believed that she could finally overcome the weight struggles that had haunted her for so long. It was a small but significant step on her journey to a healthier and happier life, and for the first time in a long while, (Y/N) had hope.

It had been a month since (Y/N) had started following the meal plan that Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wife, Esme, had designed for her. In that short time, she had begun to notice changes in her body. Her clothes fit a little snugger, her energy levels were up, and most importantly, she felt less self-conscious about her weight. It was a promising start to her journey toward a healthier self.

On a sunny afternoon, (Y/N) found herself at the local supermarket, browsing the aisles for the ingredients on her meal plan. She was lost in thought, comparing brands of whole-grain pasta when a familiar voice called out her name.

"(Y/N)?"

Startled, (Y/N) turned around to see a friendly woman with caramel-colored hair smiling at her. She was taken aback, not recognizing the person who had addressed her. "I'm sorry, do I know you?" she asked politely.

The woman's smile widened, and her golden eyes sparkled with recognition. "I'm Esme, Doctor Carlilse’s wife," she introduced herself.

It all clicked into place for (Y/N). The face before her was one she had seen in a photograph during her appointment with Dr. Cullen. She had to admit that Esme was even more radiant in person. "Oh, of course! You're Esme," she exclaimed, her eyes lighting up with realization.

Esme's warm laughter filled the supermarket aisle. "Yes, that's me. It's wonderful to see you outside of the hospital, (Y/N). How have you been?"

"(Y/N)" couldn't help but smile. She was genuinely touched by the chance encounter. "I've been doing better, thanks to the meal plan you and Dr. Cullen created for me. I've put on some weight, and I'm starting to feel more confident."

Esme's eyes shone with happiness. "I'm so glad to hear that! You're making wonderful progress. It's a pleasure to see you thriving."

(Y/N) felt a sense of warmth and connection with Esme. She had always been grateful for the support of Dr. Cullen, but now, meeting his wife in such a casual setting, she realized that she was part of a caring and compassionate team that genuinely cared about her well-being.

As they continued shopping together, Esme offered tips on selecting the freshest produce and shared some of her favorite recipes for healthy meals. Their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for much longer than this chance meeting.

By the time they parted ways in the supermarket parking lot, (Y/N) felt a deep sense of gratitude. She had not only gained weight but also found new friends and support in Dr. Carlisle Cullen and his wonderful wife, Esme. This unexpected encounter was a reminder that sometimes, life had a way of bringing people together just when they needed it most.

#x reader #x reader one shot #x reader oneshot #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #twilight x reader #twilight masterlist #twilight x y/n #twilight scenario #twilight x you #twilight carlisle #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen imagine #carlisle cullen #carlisle x esme #carlisle x reader #carlisle cullen imagines #esme cullen #esme cullen x reader #esme cullen imagines #esme cullen imagine #esme cullen x you #esme cullen x y/n

[allgoldenelite]

okay so here's my summary of ibushi's latest 2 videos (here and here) from his youtube channel

pls make sure to read this at your own discretion. it's honest, but not exactly cheerful.

this summary is not entirely chronological; i've grouped some points together for cohesion

the vids were taken about 2 weeks after marufuji vs ibushi was announced, so around 12/17 ish (i'm just bringing this up bc i saw some confusion bc ibushi was reported by noah to be in the us rn until at least the 27th)

ibushi starts out the 1st vid by saying how completely different american and japanese wrestling are; the example he uses are cheers, [in aew] whenver anyone makes their entrance the crowd is chanting their name

in japan it has a different quality to it; [i assume he's talking about coming out at the noah show to challenge marufuji here] it's strange to him when he can only hear his theme and there's neither boos nor cheers, but he was glad it got a reaction

as for how he's doing physically: says he'll be frank: his left ankle and the back of his right hand (there's a visible dent on one side of the back of his hand and he says he doesn't have much grip strength there but for powerbombs and germans he grabs his wrist with his left hand so he can still do those) are fractured and his shoulder isn't healed cause he never got surgery for it

the ankle is the worst out of the 3, he can't jump or do highflying and walking 400 m (0.25 miles) is his limit, even walking around everyday is pretty rough

he's been able to benchpress 88 lbs now, with 200 as a one time thing, but he can't do much actual wrestling match practice, worries about what he can do; sums it up as that physically things aren't really on the up and up at all

but he believes marufuji is going through the same thing [being hurt in a lot of different places] and that the match won't be bad because of that; he believes it will be good precisely bc of the shape they are in, the injuries they've sustained

as he's said in the past, he doesn't care about what place he is on the card even tho ppl care a lot about match order, but he has the opportunity of being in the main with marufuji, so [he'll make the most out of it]

the ring remains a place for him to express himself, unable to highfly or injured as he may be, that's part of it too

he could go out there and be like "no i'm recovering i'm practicing hard everything's going swell" but that wouldn't change the fact that it's not true

he's doing what he can do get better, but operating within the limits of his body and how he can workout

even so, he won't give up and expresses confidence, [he seems motivated for the match and to go through with all of this], he's been doing this for 20 years and nothing scares him anymore

he says his instinct/6th sense for wrestling isn't as sharp [anymore] either since he doesn't really wrestle outside of aew these days, and again japanese and american wrestling are completely different and he's matching himself to wherever he wrestles, so he will do the same for the noah match

as long as it's getting a reaction out of ppl, he's happy; as long as he's getting something out of it he's happy, there's no right or wrong here for him

he's not nervous for the match at all, just hopes he can put himself out there in his purest form, so that ppl can decide for themselves what it is he represents for them/how they experience them

the video ends with him saying that he doesn't wanna be gloom, but if something unfortunate happens [i interpret this to mean another injury] this will be his last [match]

[he also then says make sure to watch his matches (since you won't know which one will be the last), and while i don't think he's lying with the sentiment here at all, my suggestion would be to take this as it is for now but not despair too hard about it]

the 2nd vid is mostly a recap of him seconding a kickboxer he trains for his match at korakuen hall on 12/17, interspliced with more footage from ibushi talking in the secret base

just as the fictitious "ibushi pro wrestling research institute" represents his status as a freelancer and a means by which he express himself in his purest form to ppl, it's also a means by which he can take on ppl under his wing

[ibushi has talked on twitter before how he has several trainees who are former/current kickboxers or MMA fighters wishing to become pro wrestlers] he thinks more of them will make their debut in the future; he's not doing this to boast that he's the one training them, it just naturally happened this way

even tho the ipwri is not actually a promotion, [ppl he's training and ibushi himself] get announced/lower third-ed as being from there, so it has established itself in the world

[there's a backstage scene here of ibushi talking to machida (machida lost the match) and altho there isn't much to tl (it's just ibushi basically giving him a pep talk), i still think it's worth checking out, it's very sweet]

lastly he says the institute is taking applications and as long as your feelings/motivations come across, he's happy to read them, even tho there are already too many ppl showing interest rn

#translation tag #translation #kota ibushi #ibushi kota #rasslin #/long

[chokememaximoff]

Fix the broken

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Abstract: In a tale of love, resilience, and redemption, Y/N, an Avenger battling an eating disorder, finds strength in the unwavering support of her partner, Natasha Romanoff. Together, they navigate the turbulent waters of recovery, facing setbacks and moments of despair, but always rising to the challenge as a team. Through love, understanding, and determination, they discover that healing is possible, and their bond emerges even stronger.

TW: !!ED!! ED!!

I'm struggling with this ATM and I'm trying not to go back to old ways so this is a way of comfort. Hopefully it will help someone else.

Y/N Y/L/N had always been a formidable avenger. Her strength, determination, and unwavering loyalty were qualities that had drawn Natasha Romanoff to her in the first place. Yet, beneath the fierce exterior, there were battles she fought in silence, battles that waged inside her own mind.

It all began with a careless comment from a teammate, a thoughtless remark about her appearance. Y/N had been in recovery from a long and painful struggle with eating disorders, a battle that she thought she had conquered. But that single comment had set off a chain reaction in her mind, reopening old wounds and reviving the demons she thought were vanquished.

She knew, deep down, that the comment was unjust and cruel. She knew that she looked great, that her strength was her most powerful asset. But her own brain had turned against her, poisoning her thoughts and making her own body the enemy.

Y/N decided to keep her turmoil hidden. She couldn't let anyone see her weakness, not even Natasha, the person she loved most in the world. So, she resolved to subtly regain control over her thoughts, to satisfy the cruel voices in her mind.

For two weeks, she meticulously crafted a facade of normalcy. Y/N started by skipping breakfast whenever she could, convincing herself that it was a small sacrifice for the sake of control. Lunch became a meager affair, barely enough to sustain her energy. Dinner was reduced to a token portion, and she often found solace in a small bowl of ice cream, the only indulgence she allowed herself.

In the beginning, Natasha didn't notice. Y/N was a master of disguise, concealing her inner turmoil behind a mask of determination. But as the days turned into weeks, the subtle changes couldn't be ignored.

Natasha Romanoff had noticed the subtle changes in Y/N Y/L/N over the past two weeks. The sparkle in her eyes had dimmed, her energy levels plummeted, and she had become like a ghost, haunting the Avengers' compound with a hollow look. Natasha's concern grew with each passing day, but she couldn't pinpoint the cause of Y/N's distress.

One day, Natasha decided to follow Y/N discreetly. She couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. As she shadowed Y/N throughout the day, she witnessed a heartbreaking transformation.

She watched as Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes filled with self-doubt and frustration. Y/N's sigh was heavy, a silent cry for help that Natasha could barely bear. She watched as Y/N approached her meals with reluctance, as if eating had become a dreaded chore rather than a source of sustenance.

By the end of that long day of observation, Natasha's heart was heavy with dread. The pieces of the puzzle began to fall into place, and she realized the depth of Y/N's struggle. She knew she had to intervene, to offer the support and love that Y/N needed.

That evening, Natasha confronted Y/N gently. She spoke with warmth and empathy, assuring Y/N that she was loved and cherished just the way she was. She promised to stand by her side in this battle, to help her conquer the demons that had resurfaced.

Natasha observed Y/N's attempt to put on a brave front, but she could see through the facade. Y/N's fake smile didn't fool her for a moment.

"Y/N," Natasha began gently, "how about we go to dinner, dorogoy?"

Y/N's smile faltered as she quickly replied, "Oh, I can't, my stomach is feeling weird, so I'm not really hungry."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, concern etched across her face. "But you just said you were okay a minute ago."

Y/N's smile faltered even more as she tried to come up with another lie, but she ended up stuttering and failing with a sigh. Natasha reached out, holding Y/N's hand gently.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" Natasha asked softly.

Y/N's eyes filled with tears as she mumbled, "I think it's back."

Natasha sighed but remained calm. "I know, dorogoy. I noticed how you are lately. I just...why didn't you come to me?"

Y/N shrugged, her voice trembling. "I didn't want to worry you. Also, like any addiction, my sick brain didn't want me to tell you, so you don't stop me from spiraling into the mess my brain is."

Natasha's eyes welled up with tears, but she held them back, knowing she needed to be strong for Y/N. She asked gently, "What made you spiral in the first place?"

Y/N hesitated before saying, "I can't tell you."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, her concern deepening. "Did I do something? If I did, I'm so sorry..."

Y/N cut her off, saying, "No, not you, love. It was somebody else, but I can't tell you because you'll kill them."

Natasha's jaw tightened, but she managed a forced smile. "I won't, but just tell me... okay, maybe I will have a little talk with them, but I won't punch them... at least not too hard."

Y/N chuckled at her girlfriend's attempt to hide her anger. She explained, "My teammate made a comment that I gained some weight, and that's what made me spiral."

Natasha's tone softened, and she held Y/N even tighter. "Love, you look incredible, and you're perfect. Don't listen to that idiot."

Y/N finally broke down, tears streaming down her face. "Natasha, what am I doing wrong? No matter how hard I try, it's like the people around me, who are bigger than me, are all ignored for their weight. No matter how much they don't care about actually keeping their weight in check, meanwhile, I gain like a kilo or two, and everybody notices and complains about it. Natasha, I don't know what to do. Everyone only loves me when I'm skinny, and I can't keep up with this cycle anymore."

Natasha pulled Y/N onto her lap, holding her tightly and rubbing her back soothingly. "I know it's hard, and people can be assholes. But I need you to understand that you look amazing, and there's no need to jump back into the hole you tried so desperately to get out of. You're too strong for that now."

Natasha could see the storm of emotions raging within Y/N, but she couldn't back down. She couldn't stand by and watch the person she loved suffer like this. Determination filled her eyes as she went to the kitchen made food and then offered the plate of food to Y/N.

"Please, Y/N," she implored, her voice soft but unwavering, "You have to eat. I can't bear to see you like this."

Y/N's resolve began to waver as Natasha's words reached her. She knew Natasha was right, but the grip of her eating disorder was a relentless beast. Her body and mind rebelled against the idea of taking in more calories, of surrendering to the food that had become her tormentor.

Natasha, not willing to give up, sat on Y/N's hips, straddling her as she held her down gently. Y/N's heart raced as she felt Natasha's weight upon her, a physical reminder of her love's unwavering commitment to her well-being.

With steady hands, Natasha scooped up a spoonful of the meal and brought it to Y/N's lips. Y/N's mouth remained shut, her lips sealed tight against the intrusion. But Natasha persisted, her determination unshaken. She gently coaxed Y/N to open her mouth, her eyes locked onto Y/N's with a mix of love and desperation.

Y/N fought back tears, feeling a swirl of emotions inside her. She resented Natasha for making her face this fear head-on, but she also knew deep down that Natasha was doing it out of love, out of fear for her well-being. She took the first reluctant bite, the taste of the food unfamiliar and heavy on her tongue.

As Natasha continued to feed her, spoonful by spoonful, Y/N's resistance slowly crumbled. She felt a strange mix of anger, frustration, and relief. Angry at herself for falling back into this dark place, frustrated that Natasha had to resort to this, and relieved that she wasn't alone in this battle.

The meal seemed to stretch on forever, each bite a reminder of the ongoing war inside Y/N's mind. Natasha's hands remained steady, her presence unwavering. She whispered words of encouragement and love between each bite, assuring Y/N that she was there for her, that they would get through this together.

When the last morsel was consumed, Y/N's stomach felt heavy and bloated, a painful reminder of the meal. Natasha continued to hold her in place for half an hour, ensuring that there was no attempt to purge. Y/N's frustration and anger had given way to exhaustion and resignation.

Finally, Natasha released her, her eyes filled with regret. "I'm sorry I had to do that," she repeated, her voice laced with sorrow.

Y/N remained silent, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She felt defeated, trapped, and utterly exhausted by the battle that raged within her. She turned away from Natasha, unable to meet her gaze, and left her alone in the room, struggling to come to terms with the love and concern that surrounded her.

Natasha watched Y/N go, her heart heavy with the weight of the situation. She knew that this was just one battle in a long and challenging war, but she was willing to fight alongside Y/N, no matter how tough it got.

..

The following day, Natasha noticed a glimmer of hope. As she entered the kitchen, she saw Y/N eating a small lunch, a faint smile playing on her lips. Natasha couldn't help but smile herself as she leaned in to kiss Y/N's cheek.

"How's your day so far, babygirl?" Natasha inquired, her voice filled with warmth.

Y/N shrugged, still smiling. "It's alright. How about you?"

They continued their pleasant conversation, savoring the moments of normalcy. Natasha cherished these moments, relishing in the simple joy of seeing Y/N eat and smile.

However, their moment of tranquility was interrupted when Y/N's phone rang. She excused herself and walked out of the room to take the call. Natasha felt a pang of anxiety as a few minutes passed without Y/N's return.

Her gut churned with a gnawing feeling that something was wrong. She couldn't ignore her instincts any longer. Natasha walked to the nearby bathroom, her steps growing heavier with each approaching moment. It was there that she heard the unmistakable sounds of someone throwing up.

Without hesitation, Natasha burst into the bathroom and pulled Y/N back from the toilet. Her voice was a mixture of concern and frustration as she demanded, "What the hell are you doing?"

Y/N wiped her mouth, her eyes avoiding Natasha's gaze. "I got sick."

Natasha groaned, her patience wearing thin. "Stop lying, Y/N. I can't help you if you don't want to help yourself."

Y/N pushed herself away from Natasha, her voice trembling with frustration. "Just let me go."

She left the room, leaving Natasha standing there, torn between her desire to help and the realization that Y/N was struggling to accept that help.

Later that day, Natasha searched for Y/N all around the compound, growing increasingly worried when she couldn't find her. Eventually, she turned to Jarvis for assistance, asking him where Y/N was.

Jarvis responded, "Y/N is in Wanda's room."

Natasha hurried to Wanda's room, and when she entered, she saw Y/N asleep on Wanda, her cheeks stained with tears. Wanda was gently playing with Y/N's hair, a look of concern on her face.

Natasha approached quietly, her voice soft as she asked, "Is she okay?"

Wanda sighed and shook her head. "No, she's really upset. She feels like you're mad at her."

Natasha's heart ached as she realized the impact her earlier outburst had on Y/N. "I just want to help her," she whispered.

Wanda nodded in understanding. "I know, Nat, trust me. But she's just overwhelmed right now. We'll help her through this."

Together, they watched over Y/N, knowing that this battle would be long and challenging, but with their support, Y/N wouldn't have to face it alone.

...

As Y/N slowly stirred awake, she found herself in Wanda's room, cradled safely in Wanda's arms. Her eyes drifted to the chair next to the bed, where Natasha slept, her face etched with worry even in slumber. Y/N couldn't help but feel a mixture of emotions—gratitude, guilt, and a deep longing for things to be better.

When Y/N shifted slightly, Natasha stirred, her eyes fluttering open as she heard the movement. Their eyes met briefly, but Y/N quickly averted her gaze, nuzzling her face against Wanda's neck. Wanda, still asleep, tightened her hold on Y/N in response.

Sensing Y/N's discomfort, Natasha gently climbed to her feet and approached her. She whispered softly, "Come with me, Y/N."

Y/N hesitated for a moment but then nodded, carefully slipping out of bed so as not to disturb Wanda. She held onto Natasha for support, feeling a wave of dizziness wash over her.

Natasha frowned with concern as she helped Y/N out of the room and into her own. Once Y/N was seated on the bed, Natasha squatted in front of her, their eyes locking. She spoke with sincerity, "I'm sorry I had an outburst earlier. I'm just worried. I never meant to make you think I'm angry at you. I'm not. I'm just frustrated because I don't know how to help."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes as she admitted, "Maybe I'm just broken beyond repair."

Natasha shook her head, cupping Y/N's cheeks gently. "Everything can be fixed, but to fix something that is broken, you have to want to fix it."

Y/N nodded slowly, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "I guess you could be with me for every meal and just keep me occupied until the time passes where I won't throw up."

Natasha's voice was filled with reassurance as she replied, "Whatever you need, baby girl."

A small, grateful smile crossed Y/N's lips as she said, "Thank you, and I'm sorry for pushing you away when you only tried to help."

Natasha leaned in and tenderly pressed her lips against Y/N's, conveying forgiveness and understanding. "It's okay. You weren't in the right headspace. I understand."

Their love, though tested by the trials of Y/N's struggle, remained strong, and together, they would face the challenges ahead, one step at a time.

In the days and weeks that followed, Natasha stood by Y/N's side as she worked to regain control over her life and overcome her eating disorder. It was a journey filled with ups and downs, but they faced each challenge together, their love and determination serving as a beacon of hope.

Y/N attended therapy sessions to address the underlying issues that had contributed to her struggle. Natasha never missed an appointment, always there to offer support, encouragement, and a comforting presence.

Natasha made good on her promise to be there for every meal. They laughed, they talked, and they savored the simple pleasure of sharing a meal together. It was during these moments that Y/N began to rediscover the joy in eating, slowly mending the broken relationship with food that had haunted her for so long.

As the days turned into weeks, Y/N's strength and confidence grew. With Natasha's unwavering support, she found the courage to confide in her fellow Avengers about her battle with the eating disorder. To her surprise, they offered their support and understanding, dispelling her fear of judgment.

The love and compassion of those around her, coupled with her own determination, allowed Y/N to slowly rebuild her life. She realized that her worth wasn't determined by her appearance, but by the love and kindness she shared with others.

Though the journey was far from over, Y/N was no longer facing it alone. She had Natasha by her side, as well as the support of her friends and fellow Avengers. They were a team in every sense of the word, fighting battles together and emerging stronger as a result.

And so, their love story continued, marked not only by the challenges they had faced but also by the resilience and strength that had carried them through. Together, they embraced each day, cherishing the precious moments they shared and looking forward to a brighter future, filled with hope, love, and endless possibilities.

#marvel mcu #mcu #marvel #natasha romanoff #black widow #natasha romanoff x reader

[willtheweaver]

A writer’s guide to forests: from the poles to the tropics, part 7

Is it no.7 already? Wow. A big shout out to everyone who has had the patients to stick with this. Now onto this week’s forest…

Dry forest

Water is life. That’s a fact. And especially where it doesn’t rain for more than half the year.

Location: Dry forests are scattered throughout the Yucatán peninsula ,South America, various Pacific islands,Australia, Madagascar, and India. Areas have been cleared by human activity, and the SA dry forests are classified as the most threatened tropical forests.

Climate: Temperate to tropical, with just enough rain to sustain trees. Many are monsoonal, with rain coming in one or two brief periods separated by a long dry season.

Plant life- Hardy trees, such as Baobab and Eucalyptus are able to last with little rain by tapping into groundwater with extensive root systems. Many trees are evergreen, but in India, many species are deciduous. Trees are often more spaced out, and shrubs and grasses grow extensively. Cacti are common plants in the Americas, with some growing tall enough to be considered trees. In order to survive the heat and lack of water, many small plants are annuals, or store water in tubers. Palms can make up a large percentage of the trees, as was the case in the now vanished forests of Easter Island.

Animal life- As they can come and go when they please, birds are common species. Larger animals are active year round, with smaller species of mammals, amphibians, and certain insects only coming out during the rainy season. Isolation means that islands become home to many endemic species; think about Madagascar and the lemurs, or Darwin’s finches, iguanas, and tortoises in the Galapagos. Isolation has also led to the marsupials of Australia developing to fill the niches that would normally be occupied by placental mammals .The introduction of invasive species has brought about the extinction of island fauna.

How the forest affects the story- Water, or the lack of will be the biggest challenge your characters will face. Rivers and lakes may be seasonal, so other sources will have to be utilized. Drinkable fluids can be obtained from various plants and animals, or maybe the bedrock is porous and water accumulates in cenotes. Your characters could come from a culture that builds artificial reservoirs to collect the rain and store it for the dry season. With careful water management, cities can thrive in dry areas. But your characters will have to be careful. Prolonged drought will see societies go the way of the Maya. Deforestation leaves the topsoil vulnerable to the wind, and forests, farms, and grassland will inevitably turn to desert. Whether nomadic or sedentary, your characters and their society will have to find a way to interact with the forest without destroying it or themselves. Can they do it? Can a damaged biosphere be restored before it’s too late? The success or failure of your characters and/or their predecessors can be a driving focus of the plot. Of course ,when the rains do come, it could be in the form of a cyclone. Dry ground does not readily absorb water, and flash floods are a danger. Water can grant life, but it can take it as well.

#writing #creative writing #writing guide #writing inspiration #writing prompts #writer #writers #writing community #writer on tumblr #writeblr

[sapphicromanoffxo]

hiiii, just saw you started to write and i really liked your first wandanat headcanon so what do you think of sugar mommy!nat X sugar baby!wanda? 👀

Aaahhh I screamed with I got this request because I loveeee sugar mommy Nat so much. I also got carried away on this one and this might be a multi chapter fic. Let me know your thoughts! 🤭🫡

Lucky Ones | i. Chance meeting

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Wanda Maximoff

Word count: 1.5k

Warnings: specified legal age gap, Nat is 35 while Wanda is 21 (nothing much as of yet? 🤭)

Rewritten 03/19/2024

»»-----------► Series Masterlist

In recent weeks, college life has been hectic, but a welcome break has arrived in the form of Engineering convention week. This week-long event offers students a break from their regular studies, providing a platform to delve deeper into their field through different seminars and workshops. Beyond the confines of classroom theory, students seize the opportunity to expand their knowledge and get the chance to interact with other students as well. Amidst the event, quirky competitions like the pasta stick bridge-making challenge add a dose of excitement, prompting a laughter among participants as they witnessed their own creation fail.

Among the throng of students revelling in this educational event is Wanda, a sophomore in the civil engineering department. She was one of the fortunate students who had been granted a scholarship, though it was never easy to be one of the scholars since she took multiple tests in order to be included on the list. The delight and relief that she felt when she received an email regarding the scholarship was a weight off her shoulders since she would work as a barista in a cafe and would tutor kids for extra income, just enough to sustain her basic necessities.

At the end of the event, a lecture will be held and the chosen speaker was a well respected and sought-after engineer. Natasha Romanoff, CEO of a big construction firm that is very well-known and popular in the engineering industry.

Wanda was so excited to attend the lecture since the woman was the engineer who had provided a scholarship program to the students who are in need of one. She's also hoping to meet Natasha and give her thanks in person.

Wanda found the lecture highly informative and was thoroughly impressed by Natasha's presentation skills. Natasha adeptly explained technical concepts in structural engineering, providing practical examples to illustrate theories.

"I'm grateful for the invitation to speak today, and it's heartening to see so many people sharing my passion for this field. Best of luck with your educational endeavours."

A round of applause rang out throughout the room as they praised Natasha for her wonderful lecture. Wanda was disappointed when it concluded after two hours, wishing it could have been longer to absorb more insights from Natasha.

As Natasha stepped down from the elevated platform, Wanda stood and walked to the side of the room to greet her. Her hands grew clammy with nerves at the prospect of meeting Natasha, so she wiped them on the side of her pants before approaching.

"Um, hi, Miss Natasha. I'm Wanda," she stammered, her nerves evident in her shaky voice. "I just wanted to introduce myself since I'm one of the recipients of your scholarship offerings."

Wanda's words tumbled out in a rush until she finally came face to face with Natasha. Oh, the woman was stunning. Her emerald green eyes shimmered under the lights, her face adorned with a delicate layer of makeup, and a lop-sided smile gracing her lips. It sent a flurry of butterflies fluttering in Wanda's stomach, causing her to trail off momentarily in awe.

"Hello, Wanda. I do recall your name from the list of potential grantees," Natasha greeted warmly, extending her hand. Wanda eagerly clasped it for a handshake.

"I wanted to personally thank you for the opportunity to study at this prestigious university," Wanda expressed her gratitude sincerely to the woman before her.

"You are most welcome, dear. I hope you enjoy your time here and make the most of your learning experience. I'm eager to see what the future holds for you," Natasha replied graciously, her voice laden with warmth at the same time with power. Without hesitation, she offered her personal calling card to Wanda and added that she can call her if she needed help.

After several days of their initial meeting, during which Wanda found herself repeatedly glancing at the card Natasha had given her, she finally summoned the courage to send a message to the other woman. Despite the initial nerves, both Wanda and Natasha quickly agreed to stay in touch, eager to get to know one another.

Natasha's curiosity about Wanda was obvious, as she frequently inquired about her life and interests. Wanda, accustomed to solitude with few friends to confide in, soaked up Natasha's interest with open arms, grateful for the opportunity to share even the simplest details about herself. She would find herself daydreaming about the woman and would always think about the fiery eyes that once looked at her.

Wanda had revealed that she works at a cafe near the university and Natasha began visiting Wanda, initially keeping things friendly and casual. However after a few days of exchanging messages, Natasha's intentions became clear as she expressed her desire for Wanda to work for her, albeit with certain conditions.

Natasha offered to alleviate Wanda's financial burdens, but in return, Wanda would be at Natasha's beck and call. Intrigued by the prospect and Natasha's wealth and beauty, Wanda accepted the proposition, gladly.

Their relationship started slowly, with Natasha's first demand being that Wanda quit her job to focus solely on fulfilling her needs and wants.

After a while, Natasha provided Wanda with a credit card with no spending limit, encouraging her to make purchases that pleased her. This newfound financial freedom was overwhelming for Wanda, who had grown up in an average family and struggled to comprehend the costs of clothing she's been buying, which often equaled her rent expenses.

Natasha didn't rush into inviting Wanda to live with her, understanding that the young woman was still in the process of adjusting to her new environment. Instead, Natasha took a more gradual approach, fostering a close working relationship with Wanda. She even offered Wanda a temporary position, since she is still a college student, within her company to further develop her skills, a gesture that reflected Natasha's genuine interest in helping her grow.

Their daily interactions were filled with stolen kisses, though their affection was only limited to innocent touches and loving gazes. They both understood the need to keep their relationship discreet. After all, Wanda was still a student, just 21 years old, while Natasha, at 35, had already established herself in the industry. Despite the significant age gap, Wanda embraced the dynamic and, in fact, preferred older women, anyways.

While their relationship continued to progress, Wanda occasionally found it frustrating to witness the persistent attention men directed toward Natasha. These men were driven by either a desire to win her affection or to secure business partnerships. Wanda, in these moments, had a front-row seat to all the effort and charm these individuals put into their attempts to impress Natasha.

However, Wanda couldn't help but be captivated by Natasha's commanding presence. Natasha's innate dominance seemed to effortlessly exude from her, especially when she was fully immersed in her professional space. For Wanda, this aspect of Natasha's personality was not only alluring but also a source of pride.

As the months passed and their connection deepened, Natasha decided to invite Wanda to move in with her, a proposition that Wanda enthusiastically accepted without a moment's hesitation.

When Wanda moved in with Natasha, it was a big step forward in their relationship. Natasha was determined to make Wanda feel truly involved and committed to carefully planning how to keep their relationship strong and growing. Natasha laid out her honest and thrilling intentions to Wanda.

"From this day forward, you belong to me, as I belong to you. I am committed to fulfilling your needs, desires, and wishes. In return, I do hope that you will obey and respect my demands, as long as you're comfortable with them."

Upon hearing Natasha's confession, a shiver ran down Wanda's spine. It was the moment she had been both anticipating and fearing. She couldn't resist the pull of her emotions, surrendering her inhibitions willingly to the woman who had consumed her thoughts, day and night.

In return for her commitment, Natasha offered Wanda more than she had ever dared to dream of – a stable home and financial security. These were luxuries that had seemed out of reach, especially considering her past. However, this newfound comfort came with a significant price tag: her freedom. The demands of Natasha's commitment meant that Wanda would have limited independence. Yet, in Wanda's eyes, this trade-off was more than acceptable. The burden of financial worries was lifted from her shoulders, allowing her to focus entirely on her academic pursuits.

"You, Natasha Romanoff, a woman who took me by surprise. To this very moment, I find myself wondering what it was about me that captivated you so dearly. You went through the lengths just to get me close to you. Even if you don't have all this luxury and wealth, I think, I would still be into you."

"Well, it's all because of your good looks and enchanting mind, I can help but to be intrigued. It also didn't help that you look like you are begging for someone to put you in check and tell you what to do. Tell me I'm wrong, detka," Natasha says with much confidence, while looking the young woman right in the eye.

"It all became clear that I do want to be controlled by someone and you are the only person in this world that I would trust to do that."

Natasha smirks at Wanda's admission.

Everything that she planned is falling into place.

#natasha x wanda #wanda maximoff #natasha romanoff #wandanat #wandanat fanfiction #wlw #marvel #black widow #scarlet witch

[umgeorge]

george russell, p3, during the post-race press conference, abu dhabi - november 26, 2023 (transcription under the cut)

Interviewer: "George, coming to you, can we start by talking about P2 in the constructor's championship? With Lewis coming home ninth, you were Mercedes' main man in that fight. How much pleasure does it give you to come home ahead?" George: "Yeah, it was a great weekend, and really pleased to fnish on this high because it's been a really challenging season; one, as a team, but on the personal side, just not getting the results that we probably deserved. The pace has been really strong on so many occasions, but just results kept on slipping through our fingers, so lady luck may be on our side slightly today with Checho's penalty, but I think that more than made up for the other races this year." Interviewer: "And let's talk about the race. It looked tough for you, both on track and physically." George: "Yeah, I've been really ill the last two weeks, firstly in Vegas with a big fever-couldn't sleep and just feeling awful-and then I've had a horrendous cough that's stayed with me all week, and in the car I was coughing every single lap, but when you're strapped into the car you can't take a deep breath in to get the cough out, so it was just constantly with me and it was pretty miserable, so I was pleased to bring it home when I saw that checkered flag." Interviewer: "Look, final one from me: are there any positives from the W14 that you'd like to see taken into next year, or do you want a fresh start, a completely clean sheet with next year's car?" George: [laughs] "Yeah, I think we'll take a clean slate into next year's car. I think the positive is we're not scratching our heads why we're so far behind Red Bull. We see so many flaws with this car, which gives every single person back at the factory so much motivation and fire to chase after those problems and find those solutions, which we think we'll make a good step into next year, but of course I expect Red Bull to make a step again. But I've got no doubt, come Bahrain, we'll be in a stronger position than we were in, in Bahrain this year." Interviewer: "Alright. Thank you, George. Very well done to you. Get better soon." [time jump] Journalist: "Luke Smith from The Athletic. George, just on how you're feeling right now… Esteban Ocon, he was ill earlier this weekend and he'd said yesterday that the body's not really designed to do 23, 24 races a season. Particularly with the calendar structured as it is, the trip from Vegas to here, how much do you think F1's got to really consider wellbeing for the drivers and everyone in the paddock, moving forward, for how we structure the calendar and approach things? 'Cause it's been a long and testing season for everybody." George: "I think the drivers, we have it best from every single person in this paddock; the way we travel, we're in a very fortunate position. But everybody up and down the paddock… I've got so many mechanics who are ill, people in the engineers' office, just really struggling with the constant time zone shifts. The body not knowing where you are, eating at different times, staying in different hotels, different environments, different climates, yeah, the body's getting confused, so I think there are talks for next year about personnel being regulated that they can't do every single race. I think that would be a good thing. I don't think it's sustainable for 4,000 people, I think it is, to do 24 races a season, especially when you see how, geographically, it still doesn't make a huge amount of sense." [time jump] George: [coughing] Interviewer: "Thank you to all three of you. [laughs] George, get better soon. Guys, thank you very much for all your contributions this year. Thank you."

#george russell #f1 #formula 1 #abu dhabi gp 2023 #fic ref #fic ref 2023 #abu dhabi #abu dhabi 2023 #abu dhabi 2023 sunday #charles leclerc #tw max

[depressedhatakekakashi]

A New Book For Your Collection

Pairing: Kakagai

Words: 2,741

Konoha was quieter than usual.

Everywhere he looked there was less activity. People walked a little faster, waving to the friends they spotted in the street before continuing forward without uttering a single word. There were multiple stores with line ups all the way out the doors, yet it seemed like no one was saying a word.

Not even the shop keepers uttered greetings when a customer approached them, and they stayed equally as quiet when the customer paid and made their exit.

The village was busy, but no one was saying a thing.

“Lost in their thoughts,” he sighed, cringing when he heard his own voice cutting through the silent air, breaking the tranquility of the village for just a second before it settles back into place. Not wanting to shatter that silence again, he opted for a silent communication of his own.

‘Did I forget something important?’ 

Projecting an image of a calendar in his mind, he searched the dates for any special event. A birthday, or an anniversary, or anything that would explain the eerie silence that hovered over the village.

‘The Kyuubi’s attack happened in october,’ images of the burning ruins of Konoha homes popped into his mind, followed closely by the pictures of the dead that had lined the cemetary afterward. As soon as Minato-Sensei’s picture began to materialise he shoved the thought out of his head, refusing to deal with the emotions that swelled inside of him whenever he dared to think of the Sensei he lost so many years ago. ‘It’s March, so the cherry blossoms should be falling soon. Oh, and there’s Shunbun No hi but that’s still not for a few days.’

“Kakashi!” A cheerful voice cut through the air, shattering the tranquil silence that he had come to enjoy and causing multiple nearby civilians to turn their heads in search of the enthusiastic voice.

Kakashi didn’t have to look to know who it was. There was only one person who would call out to him with such excitement in their voices. One person who had the ability to pull him out of his own thoughts and make him smile, though that smile was perfectly covered by his mask.

“Gai,” an arm dropped around his shoulder and tugged him against his side. Turning his head just a little, he sniffed the air around him.

Gai’s voice had been enough to pull him out of his thoughts, but it was the smell of grass mixed with a light wiff of dango that consumed him. For just a moment that smell was all he could register, and with each breath he took it overwhelmed his senses, shoving past every ache that had radiated from his muscles after a long mission and forcing his body to relax. 

“You made it home safe,” Gai spoke softly, but there was a question hidden in his words. A silent finger prodding Kakashi in the side, demanding that he tell him about any injuries he had sustained during his mission.

“Home safe,” he confirmed, holding up his right arm to show the one lone cut across the back of his forearm that he’d sustained while deflecting his opponents attack. “The village is rather quiet today. Know why?”

Gai’s eyes lit up with excitement. “You didn’t hear?”

“I just got home, so no,” he confirmed. “What is it? Something fun I’m guessing since you look like you’re about to explode with excitement.”

“Tsunade-Sama announced it just yesterday,” Kakashi could feel the energy radiating off of Gai. Contained, but ready to burst forth at a moments notice and consume Gai until he was jumping off of tree’s and buildings in hopes of spending just a small fraction of it. “She called it ‘Folktales and Fables week. It starts tomorrow.”

Kakashi’s ears perks up at the mention of ‘Folktales’. “Oh?” his left eyebrow arched upward. “Still, that doesn’t really explain, you know,” he waved his hand toward the market where people continued to exist without making a single sound. An eerie, rather unnerving experience in a village that was always so busy with noise. 

“Well, Tsunade-sama challenged everyone to think up their favorite fable today,” Gai continued, his smile growing even wider. “She wants every single person in Konoha to write down what their favorite fable is and turn it in at the Hokage’s residence when they go in to receive their new book.”

Suddenly all thoughts of the eerie quitness of the village left Kakashi’s mind. “Book?” he asked, pushing for even more information. 

Taking the hint, Gai grinned. “Folktales and Fables week officially starts tonight. To welcome in the week, Tsunade-Sama is going to have all of the Jonin standing outside of the Hokage’s compound handing out books of fables that she had written by one of Konoha’s best writers.”

“I didn’t realize Jiraiya-Sama was in the village?”

The smile dropped off of Gai’s face. “I said one of Konoha’s best writers, Rival. Not one of our most perverted writers.”

The worst struck hard, wounding Kakashi’s heart, but he did his best not to show that hurt on his face. It was simply Gai’s opinion that Jiraiya-Sama wasn’t a good writer. A wrong opinion, but still just an opinion.

“Well, does that mean-”

Gai rolled his eyes. “Of course you’ll be getting one as well. In fact,” reaching back into his weapon’s pouch, he pulled out a beautiful green book and held it up between them so that the cover was facing Kakashi. “Tsunade-sama gave us all one ahead of everyone else. She asked me to deliver yours to you personally.”

“Did she really?” Kakashi asked, his eyes following the golden writing as it curved around the cover to form a beautiful cover that seemed to shimmer in the sunlight. 

‘Folktales and Fables of Konoha.’

His finger’s itched to reach out and claim the book from Gai, but he refrained. It was obvious by the way his friend waved the book around that he was trying to taunt Kakashi into snatching it away from him, but he refused to give in. He would claim the book when he was ready to and not a moment sooner. Not even if Gai turned it just right so the sun bounced off of the golden title causing it to shimmer. 

“What kind of stories are in it?” he asked, his eyes glued on the book.

“Oh, all kinds,” Gai’s smile grew, stretching from one ear all the way to the other. “Tsunade-sama actually asked us all to submit our favorite folktale or fable so that she could ask for it to be included. That was a few months ago when you were on your mission in the Land of Wind with Asuma.”

A whimper escaped Kakashi’s throat, but rather than expressing embarrassment with the unfiltered response, he turned his face away from Gai and tried his best to refrain from pouting. 

He’d missed it.

Not only the announcement of a week dedicated to folktales and fables, which were some of his favorite stories to read if he wasn’t consumed in the latest copy of Icha Icha or a pretty new romance novel, but he’d missed out on an opportunity to have his favorite fable included in the special book that was made to commemorate the new week.

It seemed rather unfair, but he was an adult. A shinobi of Konoha.

He was not going to cry over a book. Not in public where everyone could see him, at least. 

“Oh, Kakashi,” Gai’s arm dropped off of his shoulder suddenly, and in the blink of an eye his Rival is standing directly in front of him with the softest expression he has ever seen. Kind, black eyes staring into Kakashi’s one visible eye with such love that he was pretty sure he would melt. “You didn’t think I’d let them forget about the Rabbit on the moon, did you?”

At times like this Kakashi appreciated his mask more than ever. Without it the brilliant hue of red he could feel crawling up into his cheeks would be visible for all to see causing everyone in the village to gossip about how easily Maito Gai could make ‘stone cold Kakashi’ blush.

Most of the time he didn’t care too much about the villagers gossip, but if his students caught wind of this he would never hear the end of it.

Somehow three sixteen year olds were far more capable of making his life difficult than an entire village of experienced gossipers. Especially when one took Sakura into consideration.

She could easily make his life more difficult than it already was if she knew that out of everyone in Konoha, it was Maito Gai who held his heart. 

Clearing his throat he quickly shoved all those those thoughts to the back of his mind. “So,” he returned his full attention to Gai. “What do I owe you?”

Gai stared at him with a blank expression for just a moment before breaking out into a smile. “You know me too well, Rival,” shoving the book toward Kakashi he waited for him to finally give in and take hold of it before releasing his hold throwing a ‘thumbs up’ out in front of him. “One challenge should be sufficient payment.”

An expected response.

“One challenge,” Kakashi agreed with a sharp nodd of his head, his eyes fixing themselves on the book now sitting in his hands. Following the soft gold writing on the cover he couldn’t help but smile. “And dinner.”

Gai was in the middle of turning around, no doubt having already decided on what their challenge would be, when Kakashi added his second offer. Rather than stopping in the midst of his turn, Gai continued with ease and stopped at a three hundred and sixty degree turn, returning to the exact same position he’d been in before Kakashi opened his mouth.

“What did you say?” his eyes narrowed and his lips pressed together into a thin line. 

“I said one challenge,” stepping forward, Kakashi lifted his book and gently bonked it against Gai’s forehead. “And Dinner. My treat.”

“Dinner as in-”

“No eating contest,” once again he bonked his friend’s forehead, this time earning himself a slap to the wrist for the insult. “We’ll do a competition first and then we’ll go out to dinner,” pulling his book back he took one more look at it and smiled even widder. “And then maybe, if you’re nice, we can go back to my house and-”

A hand came down hard against his mouth. “Kakashi!” Gai hissed, his eyes darting around the area. Thankfully everyone around them had lost interest in what they were doing a while, but that knowledge didn’t seem to stop Gai from examining the area once more before focusing on Kakashi. “You can’t say things like that in public.”

It didn’t take a genius to figure out what Gai was hinting at. 

What was meant to be a sweet gesture had been misunderstood as something vulgar. An unsurprising turn of events considering the things the two of them could get up to when they were in the privacy of their homes.

Grabbing hold of Gai’s wrist with his free hand, Kakashi gently pulled his hand away from his mouth. “Let me finish,” he insisted, scolding Gai with a stern look when he opened his mouth to protest once again. “I was going to say ‘I can read the story of Orihime and Hikoboshi’ but if all you have on your mind is undressing me we could do that too.”

There was no scenario where Kakashi would turn down an opportunity to drag his eternal rival into bed. 

“N- no! That- i mean-” cutting himself off, Gai took a step back and closed his eyes. As Kakashi watched him he drew in a deep breath, held it for exactly five seconds, and then released. Once that was done he opened his eyes and flashed one of those bright toothy grins that was sure to blind a person if the sun hit it just right. 

“Don’t worry,” taking a step forward, Kakashi reach up and gripped the top of his mask. In one fluid motion he yanked the mask down and closed the distance between them. His lips pressed against Gai’s cheek for a quick second before he stepped back and returned the mask to its rightful place. “I can always read to you after we’re done.”

If Kakashi squinted he could almost steam rising off of Gai’s head. The embarrassment he’d felt earlier from Gai’s overwhelming thoughtfulness had been returned ten fold, though Kakashi was no where near as touching in his affections. Not in public, at least. Gai would have to wait until they were somewhere private to see that side of Kakashi. 

“So,” taking a step past Gai he refrained from chuckling when he heard his rival scrambling to turn around. “You have one challenge. What do you choose?”

Feeling Gai’s shoulder bumping against his he glanced to his side and smiled when he saw his friend walking at his side with a proud air hanging around him. “One challenge,” he mused, making a show of turning his eyes up to the sky and thinking over his options. “How about a spar?”

“It has been a while since we had a proper spar,” Kakashi agreed. “Taijutsu only?”

“That seems a little unfair,” Gai snickered, earning himself a sharp jab in the side from Kakashi’s elbow. “Owww! Rival!”

“No need to be rude about it,” he grumbled, though he knew he had very little ground to stand on when it came to scolding Gai for his arrogance. Both of them had an arrogant streak that could come out at any time, and it usually shawn brightest in their competitions. “But fine, all fighting styles allowed.”

“And no cheating!”

Kakashi rolled his eyes. “Says the guy who knocked a plate off of the table during our last eatting competition,” he fired back. “Besides, there’s no such thing as cheating in a fight.”

“Kakashi…”

“I’m being serious,” he insisted, unable to stop himself from laughing when Gai smacked him across the back of his shoulder. “We’re shinobi, Gai. Shinobi fight to survive, and sometimes that means playing a little dirty.”

“Playing dirty and trying to blind me are two different things,” Gai insisted. “And if you’re going to use the hounds at least tell them not to bite too hard. It’s embarrassing explaining all those bite marks to the doctor’s when I go to get them healed.”

Stopping in his tracks, Kakashi turned to face his rival. “Really?” he asked. “Their bite marks are embarrassing?”

“Well, ya,” Gai huffed. “I don’t like having to explain that my eternal rival used his hounds to prevent me from attacking.”

“Their bite marks are embarrassing?” Kakashi repeated, leaning in a bit closer and staring straight into Gai’s eyes. “No other bite marks?”

As soon as the words left his mouth Gai began to sweat. His eyes darted around the area, searching for an escape. “I- well,”

“Ah, well,” leaning back, Kakashi sighed. “I’ll just not summon them this round.”

“R-really?”

“Of course not,” he confirmed, a smile creeping onto his face and reaching up into his eyes. “I’ll leave enough bite marks for them to take care of. Those arn’t nearly as embarrassing at the hounds bite marks, right?”

For a second time in just a few minutes Kakashi could swear he could spot some steam rising from Gai’s head, and with a satisfied hum he turned back down the path and continued walking as if nothing had happened.

“K-Kakashi?” Gai’s voice cracked when he called after him. “Kakashi!”

Ignoring his rival’s calls, Kakashi lifted the hand holding his new book and admired the cover. It was a beautiful piece of work. One worthy of all of the praise he could muster. 

It seemed only fair that he provide that praise to Gai, who was the only reason he had a copy of the book, or that his favorite fable had been included in it. If that praise happened to leave Gai with a few questionable marks afterward, so be it.

Perhaps one day Kakashi would try to learn some medical Ninjitsu so he could care for those wounds himself.

Until then, however, Gai would simply have to deal with the embarrassing reality of dating a man who loved to leave love bites all over his partners gorgeous body.

#Kakagai #Folktales and Fables Week #You know i gatta use this week as an excuse to write cute fic XD #It's a neccessity #Also Gai is a great boyfriend #and Kakashi is a BRAT