#and then generally ignore each other on the podium

[skitskatdacat63]

2011 Italian Grand Prix - Vettonso

#SORRY. I AM GOING THROUGH IT. #this is why i had to put vettonso merchant in my bio bcs if i dont post them at least 5x a week ill die #their dynamic in this race is like actually indecipherable to me #cause this is the race where fernando 'allegedly' said fuck you my boy #but their dynamic is so odd???? #like they have that happen in the cooldown room #and then generally ignore each other on the podium #and then we randomly get this cute moment and then they INSTANTLY go back to being awkward #but then in the press con they keep talking about each other and looking at each other???? okay :) #sometimes im just like. yeah no i give up on trying to understand them #not rly noticeable in these buts its so funny how seb pats him to get his attention #and then immediately goes to cheer as if to be like 'huh what i didnt touch uou' #to ref that one post about this race said: he didnt wanna embarrass himself again by getting turned on #stealing this from c cough cough but hes like 'oh no!! if he looks at me im gonna embrass myself on broadcast again!!' #anyways i love this moment and the pics from this are like my fav ever 2010s pics of them so yeah <3 #f1 #formula 1 #sebastian vettel #fernando alonso #vettonso #we do a little bit of f1 #*its so odd i completely remember finishing this and scheduling it last night #*but when i woke up it was only half done??? im still confused #2011 italian gp

[ellssbellss]

(NEW! pt.2) Lavender Roses ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

pairing ~ Kyoya Ootori x Reader

In which a rational head hides a generous heart, but you have always known how to see past his walls and help him bloom into the gorgeous rose he is. Enjoy a slow burn between an honor student and our beloved glasses character!

here is part two!

see masterlist! masterlist

taglist! @abbysblogsstuff @sunukissed @kisskissshutmydoor @idonia-dovahkiin @greensnakegoblep @vervainnnn @desert-fern @delievia @obeythemasters @luca-nightshade @sweetandsourwrites @wrzloyd @1234567890nono @inactivecrofters @katiebwalczak03 @reader3 @radical-bunny @stevexbucky404 @localgaytrainwreck @jade-digital @eleventhdoctorsangel @ozdramaqueen @httpzace @wrzloyd @localgaytrainwreck @kawaii-onikuma113 @httpswilloww @pest-ill-ence @akumakitsune21 @britty-yk @daniels2003 @jade-digital @eleventhdoctorsangel @ozdramaqueen @sadpotatoondrugs @name1nonexistent2 @jstanaxx @yikesarooni 

A Challenge from Lobelia Girl's Academy!

The collar of your white button down carved into the skin of your neck, only cutting deeper each time you swallowed. The (s/c) of your suit set seemed like a good idea this morning, but now it blared at you from your peripheral, a warning of possible danger ahead. 

Room A326 was a bland one, only consisting of a podium, a projector, and your teacher perched neatly on a chair in the back. In the middle of the room, a long table sits three of your high school's most influential people, one of them being Chairman Suoh. The man’s blonde lashes flickered over you and Kyoya as each of you ran through your practiced dialogue, the presentation not suffering at all from your time apart. 

It was almost eerie, in fact, how easily the both of you fell into the groove of working together again, as if it was second nature. 

But the thing that made your nerves stand on end wasn’t the investors watching your every single move. It wasn’t the fact that you and Kyoya had barely gotten together maybe an hour or so before one of the biggest presentations of your life. And it wasn’t that that hadn’t gone very well. 

It was the fact that if you were shaken by just how natural this whole thing felt, working so fluidly together without so much as a word to each other in days, Kyoya was knocked off his feet. 

People who hadn’t known him for years wouldn’t have caught the tick in his jaw, or the long looks behind his frames when it was your turn to present a slide. He gripped his index cards a little too tightly, and his tie rose too high up on his neck, the material crinkling the fabric of his shirt. 

It appeared that you weren’t the only one about to burst at the seams because of how unfair it was. That the both of you had finally found someone that understood you both inside and out, made you feel comfortable in your own skin, supported you, brought you back to earth, and shared your ambitions and secrets. All for one petty, rotten, evil argument to bring it down like a gust of wind on a tower of cards. 

As you fixed the lapel on your blazer, you caught eyes with him again while he spoke. His gray irises quickly flitted to look somewhere else as he swallowed thickly, and you huffed through your nose. 

Rolling your eyes internally, you turn back to the projector, smiling for the investors while a million thoughts ran through your head. 

Why was he acting like this? He was the one that broke your heart, and he was too stubborn to apologize for it. He had only spoken to you when absolutely necessary, and ignored you after one of the most traumatic events of your life. You knew that that day on the cliff had been a shock to everyone, but everyone else had gotten over themselves.

You knew he had an ego bigger than Mount Fuji, but you had hoped you meant more to him than his reputation. 

Such a stupid thing, hope. 

“And that’s why this product should be dispersed globally.” You hear yourself saying, walking in a synchronized motion to the front of the podium alongside Kyoya. “It could change the lives of millions globally, and redefine what we label technology today.”

“Thank you for your time.” Kyoya’s voice resonates in the beige room, and as you both bow deeply, your presentation ends with a period written in black ink. 

Applause scatters throughout the room, but you swallow. The presentation was easy, planned. The hard part is what follows, answering questions. 

“Nicely done.” One of the investors says, a woman with streaks of gray in her black hair. “Your charts were extremely easy to digest, and very well organized.”

“Agreed.” The investor to Chairman Suoh’s left nods, fixing the glasses on top of his nose. “And your idea to use rising social media as a way to advertise your product is smart. Effective.” His voice is grumbling, barely audible behind his dangling jowls. 

You hitch your breath as Suoh hums, fixing his hands into a pyramid on the table, like a god about to give judgment. “The two of you have created something that could truly sell itself, and maybe become a staple in a household’s everyday life. It really could change the market for products like this.”

Kyoya’s lips stretch into his business smile. No dimples, no teeth, just kind, practiced eyes. “Thank you, Sensei, that means a great deal coming from –”

“...in theory.”

The smile drops. 

“Sir?” You ask, trying to drag your heart out of your stomach. 

Both of you turn to look at the Chairman as he reaches for his reading glasses, perching them on his face before glancing back down to his notes. “Isn’t that what this all is? Theory?”

“Absolutely not, Sensei.” Kyoya says, briskly walking back to his computer and bringing up the slides of the detailed plan he made to put this idea into production. “As stated previously, it would all start with the investments from–”

“Oh, please.” The Chairman dismisses Kyoya with a wave of his hand, almost laughing. “I admire the to-do list you have here, son, but it takes more than a checklist to get things off the ground. It takes research. It takes money.”

“The research is in production as we speak, sir.” You say, joining Kyoya at the computer to access your resources that you cited at the end of your slides. “While it is in the newer stages, the results have been consistent, even leading to brand new–”

“How many patented technologies have been made with this research?”

You swallow, the blue light from your screen being projected into your irises as you look up your friend’s father. “None, sir. This would be the first.”

“So it’s a risk.”

“It is.” Kyoya confirmed next to you, his lengthy form crossing to the side of the podium. “But what is reward without the risk?”

“A guaranteed one, Ootori.” Suoh clips, and he rests his reading glasses on the table.

“It might take some trials, Chairman Suoh, but you said it yourself.” You say, taking center stage. This could help millions, possibly even billions of people across the globe.”

“And how expensive is one of those trials?” He asks, his ego spilling from his chair. 

You swallow, and Kyoya meets your gaze before answering in a cold tone. “Seventy-five billion yen, Sensei. As stated.”

“I know. I just wanted to hear you say it again.” The billionaire chuckles, along with the two other investors as they shake their heads, as if that amount of money could even put a dent in their personal checking accounts, let alone their savings. 

Then, his face falls gently, and Suoh’s violet eyes pierce into yours, but they don’t hold the same warmth that Tamaki’s do. Just the judgment. Just the cold. 

“(L/n)-san. Would you spend seventy-five billion yen on a risk?”

The collar of your shirt suddenly isn’t a smooth blade. It’s a jagged knife, tearing your skin and cutting through your windpipe as you force yourself to think. How could you be so smart and not be able to defend this project that you had poured your blood sweat and tears into?

Can you even recover from this? From the doubt that is clearly in the scowls of the investors in front of you, the disappointed frown from your teacher in the back. How could you show your face to Tamaki again, after his father had humiliated you so thoroughly? And Kyoya, god knows Kyoya is raging inside his ice-cold demeanor. 

If there was ever a chance that your relationship would go back to the way it was, it was drowning in whatever vengeful emotion the Shadow King was feeling. You’re sure you’d make it back to the club room tonight and see your uniform folded neatly on a table, a note written in perfect cursive telling you, curtly, to get the hell out of his sight. 

“Respectfully, Sensei. If I may.”  Kyoya’s voice rings amongst your spiraling, and you’re pulled back into reality as he places a hand on your shoulder. You even feel him give you a gentle squeeze, causing you to let out the breath you have been holding. 

“We can agree that seventy-five billion yen does sound like a large sum. And, yes, it is risky to bet on a product that is based on theory and predictions, therefore leaving the end result undetermined.”

Kyoya paused, and you watched as Suoh’s smirk just grew larger, nearly showing his canines in the process. “But hasn’t that been the start of all revolutionary businesses around the world? We all know that Apple Inc. started in a garage, but did you know the same was true for Amazon? Google?”

Kyoya’s back was turned to you as he began to speak to these investors like equals, his potential lighting up the room like an upcoming star. 

“The same can be said for Blockbuster.” The woman said, tucking a piece of stray hair behind her ear. “Or MySpace. Blackberry.”

“All startups that ultimately failed in the long run.” The man added on, a permanent frown on his face as he analyzed the straight-A student in front of him. 

“Because they couldn’t adapt.” Kyoya emphasized. “Our product is not only revolutionary, it’s evolutionary, and will change with the ages.” 

“It may be a large investment, but it’s a worthy one.” You speak up, feeling supported under the confidence of the Ootori son’s words. 

“I believe in this product. I believe in us as spearheads for this technology. This project will not fail with the two of us overseeing the development.” You say, gesturing between yourself and the suited host next to you. 

“You two do work well together…” Suoh surmised, his cocky grin twisted into a slight frown. 

You swallow the emotion you feel, playing the angle that you know will get the best response. “In the years I have come to know Kyoya, he has never once gave up on something he believes in. He is always going after what he wants with the finesse and ambition that anyone would want to have on their team.” 

Kyoya brings his fist up to his throat, clearing it before fixing his lenses. “And I could say the same for (Y/n). Her creative intelligence and determination in her work is unmatched, making her not only an asset to this product, but also to Ouran as a whole.” 

You look at him then, catching the way the veins in his jaw pulsed under the stress. His posture was straight, hands clasped in front of him maybe a little too tightly as he finished his praise. 

He’s practically shaking, breaking his own pride to admit that he needs you. Believes in you, just as he always had. And that breaks something in you as well. 

“Fine then, you two can talk to the investor panel at the end of this year.” Suoh grunts, earning the slow nods of the other two judges. 

You whip your head around and smile brightly, taking a deep breath to thank him before he holds up a finger. 

“However, there will be conditions. Find solid research that dilutes the risk of getting it produced.” He stands, the rest of them following suit as they begin to pack their things. 

“Yes sir.” You say, vowing to do whatever you can to get your idea off the ground. 

“And find a way to lessen the price. No matter how much you believe in something, it doesn’t change the price tag.” 

“Of course.” Kyoya acquiesces. 

Sighing with his briefcase in hand, Suoh is the last one out the door, on his way back to his office for the rest of the school day. He looks back at the two of you with his mouth in a straight line, but you can see a little bit of pride in his violet eyes. 

“Congratulations, you two. We will be in touch.” 

With that, he closed the door behind him, leaving both you and Kyoya with bewildered stares as his disappearing form. 

“So…” You start, creasing your brows. “That went well. Right?”

The megane’s eyes shot to yours, before shaking his head once. “Not even close.”

“I mean, maybe it started out rocky, but we got the deal!” 

“Barely.” Kyoya cuts your excitement in half. “We barely were able to pass through to the investor panel because our project was flawed.”

“It couldn’t have been perfect the first try.”

“It would’ve been better if you had answered the question decently, instead of standing there frozen.”

You stand there, shocked. “If I had answered honestly, the panel would’ve been discouraged against production. I was trying to find a way to-”

“Saying anything at all would’ve been better than letting the Chairman’s question hang in the air.” 

Scoffing, you turn your back to him, shoving your laptop back into its case. “Well, everything turned out okay. You saved it with the connections to some of the biggest companies in the world, you should be proud.” Distaste leaked from your tone.

You hear the click of his briefcase echo as he packs his things, the lifeless room surrounding you. “I can’t save you everytime.”

Your hands pause, hovering over the zipper of your purse. The room is silent then, only the ruffling of clothes and the pounding of your heart making any noise. Your mouth is dry as you close your eyes, willing the rage and sadness that you feel to go away, just go away as a dark voice plays in your mind. 

Stop it. Stop it, (Y/n). Don’t do this to me. 

A briefcase clicks shut right as your zipper closes your purse, and you curse whoever made you and Kyoya forever in sync. 

“Is that what this is about?” The tension strains your vocal chords as you ask, but you don’t turn to face him.

He isn’t looking at you either when he swallows. “It’s complicated.”

Nodding, you pull your purse onto your shoulder, and Kyoya barely has time to react before you’re furiously brushing past him. 

“Let me make it less complicated for you, then. Since everything else is.” Your voice is cold as you push open the exit, still avoiding eye-contact. “You won’t have to save me anymore.”

Your shoes clack as you fly out the door. 

Kyoya heaved off his glasses slowly, rubbing his eyes and the indentions that his frames had made on his nose. 

“Christ, Ootori.” He mumbled to himself, running his hand down his face. 

Why couldn’t he let you go?

Multiple people had made him angry to the point that he had cut off all contact with him, but it had never left him feeling so empty, so desperate for what was lost. 

The director justified that it was because you were everywhere. He couldn’t get over your relationship because he saw you everytime he stepped into school, into the club he built. You were in his classes, his extracurriculars, your contact was pinned to the top of his messaging app (purely for easier access, of course). Your name was even signed on the same documents he had to fill out for his father because of the damned partnership between your two families. 

He just couldn’t get rid of you. Physically or mentally. 

Not only were you an active presence on campus grounds, but in the late hours of the night he saw your face smiling down at him in the sunlight, your laugh rang in his ears when he made a sarcastic comment. 

He saw you disappear over a cliff’s edge. 

His heart spiked and he threw on his glasses once more, sharply exiting the presentation room. He willed himself not to dwell on how things used to be, just what they were now. You had been reckless, so reckless that you could’ve been seriously injured. The pain he would’ve felt if somehow you hadn’t come back from that, or if your injuries were greater…it scared him.

All that feeling, the attachment, the wanting. It terrified him. 

“No, Mom, I just–I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Your voice trailed along the empty hallways of the business building. School was still in session, but it was between periods. Everyone was in their classes. 

Kyoya froze and expected you to be around the corner, fully prepared to turn the other way. But when you weren’t there, he listened again.

“I don’t think I want to stay here.” Dark eyebrows furrowed as he followed the echo to the women’s bathroom. Hearing you stutter and interrupt your mother made him lean against the wall outside the door. 

“No, I know Ouran's the best, I know. And I really like it here. It’s just…” He heard you take in a breath while he held his own. “It’s getting too difficult. Were you able to send over the blank transfer application? To Lobelia?”

Kyoya’s head dropped against the wall as he suppressed a groan. Immediately, his body pushed off the wall, and soon he was walking quickly down the hallway. The afternoon sun traced his body through the exposed windows as he took tight turns, his long legs putting in their work as he jogged up the carpeted steps. 

His head and his heart were at war as they both pounded on his way to Music Room #3. Just let her go, his mind yelled, then you can be free from whatever feeling she is holding over you.

But what would your life be, his heart cried, without her?

Kyoya busted through the pink doors, alight and tie slightly askew.

He clears his throat as he adjusts the tie, storming up to a surprised Tamaki. 

“Kyo, hey. Is your presentation over? How did it g-”

“Will it work?”

“Will what work?” The blonde stands at his full height. 

“Your plan to keep Haruhi and (Y/n) here at Ouran. Will it work?”

“Of course it will.” Tamaki gets a knightly gleam in his eye, pounding his fist into his palm. “We just need to do a few more things.”

“Leave it to me.” Kyoya states, his lenses flashing. “How can I be of service?”

The crowd around you cheers as you hug your middle. The Zuka Club performs gloriously on the stage in front of you, your front seat perspective making them seem larger than they actually are. And, you have to admit, their pompous, look-at-me attitudes are really helping their cause here. They are great actors. 

Benio, Chizuru, and Hinako all move fluidly to their final positions, getting ready to set off the performance's grand finale. 

“Lo~”

“Bel~”

“Li~”

“A~!” 

The cheers get even louder, and you wince at the noise. Sighing, you look around at the crazed fans with hearts for eyes, wondering if this will really be the kind of people you will go to school with. 

Not like they are any different from the fan girls at Ouran.

As the Zuka Club descends from the stage, a fan bumps into you as they try to get closer to the stage, knocking the enclosed letter out of your hand. You scurry to pick it up, praying that nobody steps on it as the crowd disperses. Your fingers are just about to wrap around the cream-colored paper before a lithe, manicured palm picks it up. 

“What’s this?” Benibara’s smooth voice rings in your ears as you watch her read the front. 

“Hey, wait, that’s not for you-” You scramble, but the squeal of Hinako’s excitement stops you from speaking. 

“Oh my god! You’re transferring to Lobelia?!” She jumps, hands over her mouth.

“No!” Your voice cracks at the volume, and you bring it down as you clear your throat. “I was just…thinking about it. The forms are blank.”

“Well, thinking is over, maiden.” Chizuru smiles, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, giving you a squeeze. “You are wanting to become one of us! Isn’t that great, girls?”

“Don’t get too excited,” A warning laces your tone as you pull away from the blonde. “I was just thinking about it. I’m not sure I’ll even get in.”

“Please, beauty.” Beni says, spinning you as she and her gang begin to walk back into the halls of Ouran. “If you were intelligent enough to be accepted into Ouran High School, then you will be just as openly invited to join Lobelia Academy.” 

“Are you saying that Ouran has better academics?” You say, raising an eyebrow at the hand on the small of your back.

“Absolutely not!” Hinako scoffs. “Lobelia is the best in every wa-”

“Admittedly, yes.” The leader’s voice dips, and you can tell it pains her to have Ouran be the best at something. “But our grades have always placed second.”

And isn’t that where you should be?, you think as you pace back to the Music Room, somewhere that accepts second place? 

“Oh, hello there, young maiden.” Snapping yourself out of your thoughts, Benio calls to a figure that rounded a corner, unfortunately crossing the path of you and the Zuka Club. 

You see Haruhi whip her short hair around, eyes widening as she makes eye contact with the three girls in maroon skirts, before meeting yours. 

“Oh, hi ladies. Hey, (Y/n).” She waves, waiting for you to catch up to her. She eyes the way Benio’s hand guides your back. 

“You shouldn’t call her a maiden in public.” You hiss at the girls, pulling away from them for a second time. “It could raise the wrong idea.”

“Not for long.” Beni smiles, a song of victory in her inflection. “Are you prepared to leave, Haruhi?”

A confused look crosses over her visage. “Leave?”

Chizuru nods. “Yes! With (Y/n) on our side, we are prepared to confront those boys and set things straight once and for all.”

“What do you mean ‘set things straight’? (Y/n)? What are they talking about?”

“This, beauty.” Benio says, and to your horror, hands her the transfer forms she had stolen from you.  Haruhi’s brown eyes go wide, her intelligence making it so she connects the dots at a lightning speed. 

“No, no Haruhi, I promise, it’s not what you think.”

That makes her even more perplexed. “So, you’re not transferring to Lobelia?”

“She sure is.” Hinako nods, a smirk coming onto her face.

“All she has to do is sign, and we will-”

“Stop. Just, stop for a second and listen to me.” You’re begging at this point, already seeing the hurt sink into Haruhi’s eyes. 

“You three, shut up.” Pointing at the Zuka Club, you drag them to the otherside of the hallway. “Stay here while I talk to Haruhi.” 

You begin to move before you hear shuffling behind you, so you whip around, glaring. “In private.”

The Zuka Club just roll their eyes, but they turn anyway.

Turning back, you swallow when you see Haruhi has her mouth in a thin line, but you’re so grateful that she is reasonable enough to let you explain. 

“Haruhi, I’m not transferring.” You pause, taking a breath. “Yet.”

“Yet?” 

Taking the letter out of her hands, you straighten out the crinkled paper. “I was going to bring this to the meeting today to let everyone know that I was going to apply. I didn’t want you all to be blindsided.”

“Yeah, well. I feel pretty blindsided right now.” Haruhi scoffs, crossing her arms. “(Y/n), what are you thinking?”

“I don’t know! I just, I’m trying to fix things. And I keep making it worse. I thought that if I just left, things would get better on their own.”

“With us?”

You almost whine at the hurt look she gives you, like a hesitant deer coming out into the sun. “No, no, that’s not it. I love you, I love being your friend.”

And you realized you did. You had missed the silent support she gives you through your times of anxiety and stress, but you had been pushing her away because you were sad and angry. 

“I-I know I haven’t been around recently, and I really don’t want to talk about why.” You bite the inside of your lip again. “But I know that I want to be better, so I thought…”

“You thought leaving would help you be around more?” Haruhi asks, an exasperated smile highlighting her cheekbones. 

“...Yes? When you put it like that, it sounds stupid.” You chuckle. 

Haruhi shakes her head, punching you lightly in the shoulder. “That’s because it is.”

You stare at the ground for a minute before see her shift her weight. “Look, I don’t know what’s bothering you. But I won’t press.” The honor student holds her hands in a mock-surrender. “But I do want to be here for you. Just like you are for me.” 

Your eyes meet hers again, brown crashing with (e/c), and it’s warm and sisterly. “Let me do that for you.”

A stuttering breath keeps your tears of joy at bay. “Yeah, yeah. I will.” You smile wetly. “I’m sorry.”

Haruhi just hums, taking the envelope in her hands and ripping it in half. “Yeah, you should be.” She finishes with a smile. 

A disappointed Zuka Club meets you back at the clubroom’s entrance. 

You quirk an eyebrow at them. “You eavesdropped, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but we still haven’t heard Haruhi’s answer!” Chizuru exclaims.

Haruhi rolls her eyes. “Actually-”

“Nope! No time!” Benio rushes, pushing Haruhi through the doors as you follow behind. “Let’s show them that you, maiden, should come to school with us and be with your own kind!”

But all of them freeze. 

Stepping around them, you see their pale faces. Confused brows scrunching, you follow their eyeline to see colors and makeup, wigs and dresses and then-

Holy shit. 

Kyoya’s wearing a corset. 

“Ouran~!”

“Ouran~!”

“Ouran~!”

Off-key harmonization rings throughout the room, making sure to dampen the name Music Room #3. A bright light suddenly comes up on Tamaki, draped in a red gown with blonde extensions wrapped into a high ponytail. Red lipstick floods his mouth as he sings, posing in his very own spotlight. 

“Host Club welcomes you~!”

There’s silence as you scan each and every one of your hosts. The twins look elegant, Honey is just darling, and Mori is dashing in his blue suit. Kyoya is perched on the couch, a fan in one hand as his purple dress cascades over his long legs. 

Their makeup is terrible, their hair is hanging by a bobby pin on their heads, and once you and Haruhi meet eyes, it’s all over. The two of you double over laughing, clutching your sides as you collapse to the ground. 

Benio is raging, smoke practically coming out of her ears. “What is the meaning of this? Are you trying to make fun of womenkind?!”

Tamaki gasps dramatically. “Absolutely not.” He begins to make his way over to you, his ankles bending as he fails to walk in heels, making you laugh even harder. “My dears, you all have lived sheltered lives, and may not know that Haruhi and (Y/n) like free things.”

In the midst of your tears, Tamaki gathers his voice, raising his voice a few octaves which makes you wheeze. “You ladies may be distracted by the Zuka Club, but choose us! And you will not only gain a club of brothers, but sisters as well! See?”

He bats his false eyelashes, the glue coming off the edge of his eyelid. “Aren’t I pretty?”

The Hitachiin Twins pop out, and you and Haruhi can finally stand. “We’re the Hitachiian sisters! We’re just teasing you.” They giggle like girls, a hand over their lips. 

Honey-senpai prances about. “Listen, (N/n)-chan, Haru-chan, call me big sis, okay?” He asks, big eyes staring up at you as Mori taps his tambourine. 

You looked expectantly at Kyoya to pose, flounce, do something, but you smirk when he just rolls his purple-shadowed eyes, his fan covering his face. 

“Do you idiots really think you can win them over like this? I mean–”

But Tamaki’s head piece tilted off his head, floating to the ground, and it made both the honor students crack up again.

“Oh my god, I can’t breathe. I’m dying!” You cry, trying to catch your breath. 

“This is too much! I don’t even know what you are trying to do?” Haruhi adds, and your laughter sings across the pink walls. 

“You really think we’re that funny?” The twins come up to the both of you, purposefully swaying their hips. It breaks you down, and your cheeks hurt from smiling. The twins lunge at you and start chasing you, only for them to stumble as they run in heels. They try to catch you around your middle, your tears of joy flying back behind you.

“Maiden, what is your decision?” Benio gets Haruhi’s attention as they watch you three run around, and Haruhi just shakes her head. 

“I’m sorry, but your club’s not for me. I think your school is great, but I came to Ouran with a goal and a plan for my future. I don’t think I was ever going to really leave Ouran.”

“Haruhi~!” Tamaki practically melts, violet eyes glistening as he twirls over to her. But then, he stops suddenly, pointing at her with an accusatory grimace. It was hard to take seriously. 

“Wait, if you knew you weren’t going to leave, then why did you act all angry yesterday?”

Haruhi put her hands on her hips. “How would you feel if I took something of yours without asking? I really liked that pencil!”

“But I asked if you wanted my teddy bear pencil in return and you refused!” The prince whined, bringing the pencil back out from the confines of his skirt. 

“That’s right, and I still don’t want it.” She says blandly, causing Tamaki to whimper. 

Throughout the chaos, the Zuka Club stands.

“Um, Benio…” Chizuru starts. “Maybe we should-”

“Yes, I know.” The leader of the Zuka Club sighs, a frown creasing her handsome features. “We are not going to give up on you maidens! I swear, someday, we will come and rescue you from this place!”

No one is paying attention. Benio growls, spinning around and mumbling to herself as they walk out of the clubroom. 

“And when we do, we will abolish the host club.”

The afternoon’s session ends with a bang. The guests loved the get-ups and the dresses, absolutely swooning over every host in the room. But now, as the chaos dies down and things are being cleaned up, you square your shoulders. 

I deserve to be here. You think over and over, and it lightens the weight on your chest. I deserve to be here, to be happy and to get answers. I deserve to try. 

Taking a sharp breath, you find a tall form, black hair a little messy from the absence of a wig as Kyoya reaches behind his back, struggling with the strings on his corset. 

“Need help?” You ask gently, but he still jumps, his head turning ever-so-slightly to look over his shoulder. 

A deep sigh rumbles through his chest, and you see the tips of red that color his ears. “Unfortunately.” He admits.

A small chuckle breaks through your lips, and your fingers begin to work the strings of the corset off of him, brushing against the button-up shirt he kept underneath. 

Looking up, you realize that he is impossibly taller than usual. “You’re still wearing the heels?” He is standing straight, perfectly balanced as if he immediately mastered the art of wearing them.

“I couldn’t bend over to take them off with this corset suffocating me. I don’t know how women ever wore these monstrosities.”

“It’s an acquired taste.” You laugh, and the tension eases slightly, both in the air and on the straps of his corset as the piece comes undone, and you step away. 

He steps out of it and sighs into a chair, pulling his ankle onto his knee to work on the strap on the shoe. You bite the inside of your lip, shifting your weight on your feet a little-

“You need to stop doing that at some point. It’s a bad habit. ” Kyoya’s voice interrupts your awkward shuffling and you stand straighter, looking up at him.

“Doing what?”

“The lip-biting.” He says, not even looking at you as he ties his own dress shoes into place. “If you have something to say, then say it. Don’t sacrifice the integrity of your lips just because your anxious.”

“Right.” You release your lip from between your teeth, a small smile being placed on them instead. “I just wanted to say thank you.”

“For what?”

“For trying to keep me here at Ouran.”

His gray eyes flick up at you as he works his laces for a brief moment before he nods. “I think everyone would agree that you are an asset to this organization.”

“And for speaking to me again.”

This time his foot drops off his knee, and he is looking up at you from his seat. It’s as if he’s realizing he has subtly lifted his cold shoulder. 

“Yes, well, I thought that maybe, if you weren’t going to apologize, it was time.”

“Uh huh.” You tease, crossing your arms. “Because my pestering did nothing to push that along?”

He simply pushes up his glasses. “Your presence is quite grating.”

A smile pushes it way to your mouth before you can stop it, and soon you are pulling it back, remembering why you came over here. 

“Look, I know you’re mad at me.”

“Because you were unsafe, reck–”

“Reckless, stupid, yes I know.” You finish for him before he can repeat what he berated you for on the beach. “But, I’m mad at you, too.”

His shoulder straighten at that. “Wh–”

“I,” You sigh, holding up a finger. “I can’t tell you why. Not yet. But I just wanted to say, if we are going to be mad at each other without trying to fix it, then we need to set some ground rules.”

His sharp features deadpanned. “And what, (Y/n), would those be?”

“You can’t call me stupid. We both know that I’m not” Assertiveness races through your voice, and you see him wince at the memory of him doing just that.

“We have to talk to each other. It doesn’t have to be as…constant, as it was.” You swallow, and the atmosphere depresses just a little. “But we have to be communicative.”

“Except when you don’t want to talk about something? How is that fair?” The businessman pushes, leaning his elbows onto his bent knees. 

“I told you I will. When I’m ready. I know you might not think so, but I deserve that.” You can tell that Kyoya wants to retort, but one look from you, and it dies in his throat.

“And lastly,” Your voice loses that harsh, dictatorial tone, growing softer as you watch him intently. “I want you to know that I’m thankful you took that dive for me.”

Kyoya stops blinking, those calm gray clouds switching between each of your pupils. 

“I don’t know what it ruined, but I’m sad that what I did broke whatever was, or what I thought was possibly…growing between us. But I will forever be grateful that I had a friend like you who would jump off a cliff for me.” You take a beat, grasping at your hands. 

“That’s it.” Looking back up, you see Kyoya looking at you with the warmth that you thought you had lost, but then it’s gone as he shakes his head. “I’ll see you around.”

Spinning on your heel, your shoes clack across the tile before you hear Kyoya’s voice call out behind you. “(Y/n).”

Turning, you look at him, standing with a loosely buttoned shirt, his voice floating through the air. 

“You’re welcome.”

Next Time on Lavender Roses

“Is Haruhi really suffering in poverty? I have to see for myself!”

“She is probably fine, we don’t need to go over.” 

“Wait, (Y/n), how did you know about that?”

Day in the Life of the Fujioka Family!

thank you again for being patient! let me know what you think in the comments!

if you would like to be in the taglist, please go to the taglist link and comment underneath it!

love you :)

#kyoya ootori x reader #kyoya x reader #lavender roses #ouran high school host club #ouran fanfic #ouran host club #oneshot #ouran #ohshc fanfic #ohshc mori #ohshc haruhi #ohshc honey #ohshc hikaru #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #romantic #romance #thank you so much #thanks for reading

[spektre-writes]

A Hungarian point of view of that infamous F1 throphy incident (no, I refuse to make THAT joke, this is supposed to be a serious post, yeah?):

So, home grand prix, right? Exciting shit, even when you��re not too immersed in this sport. A hot summer weekend, what better to do than turning on the tv and checking out the race (and being super jealous of all the YouTubers that got invited into the Paddock Club – it doesn’t matter if you don’t know shit about F1, it’s “for the clicks” as Max Verstappen would say). And this is how I was witness to the winner’s throphy get destroyed by the papaya team’s one and only Lando Norris. It should be fun and games and friendly banters and memories to keep forever – too bad there’s also a hand-crafted throphy that took approximately six months(!!) to make, and it also costs about 40K in euros. But this isn’t the main point here. People sharing my viewpoint are making it seem like this is what it’s all about, and I love you all for speaking out, but let me offer a bit of correction here.

If it was a generic, mass produced throphy, I’d laugh along with everyone involved. I mean, it is such a lovely sight – seeing two drivers having friendly banters and showing so much respect towards each other and making an otherwise lacking race memorable.

BUT. And here’s the most important part: this throphy was made by Hungary’s biggest porcelain manufactory. It’s design, the whole process of making it – it’s all part of our cultural heritage. Throphies are usually just objects, right? It isn’t important what they are made of but what they represent. But with this special throphy? It isn’t just something that represents a win – it also represents a country and its culture. The first three won’t just take home points and an object to represent it, they also take home with them a piece of Hungary. A piece of a foreign culture. An art piece, not just another generic throphy to add to their collection. And this is the part people ignore because let’s be honest. We are talking about a sport that moves millions on a single day, paying 40K for a porcelain vase isn’t going to slap them in the face. This isn’t about the money, nor about compensating the people (the artists!) working on these beauties. And don’t come at me with the argument that that throphy is now worth more broken because it isn’t about how much it is worth either.

Breaking that throphy — hell, it’s not even the “oops I broke it” part that is making me see red, it’s the JOKES the respective teams and the audience keep posting — means you’re ignorant and lowkey (lowkey??) disrespectful towards a culture.

Who to blame here? I don’t want to point fingers because I have no idea if anyone on the podium was aware how proud we are that aside from getting to house a race here, we also give a piece of our culture to the winners to take home with them. BUT I’m proposing everyone involved should be educated on this matter.

#formula 1 #f1blr #hungarian grand prix 2023 #lando norris #max verstappen #i’m not involved in the f1 space so i’m not sure this will reach the right people #but it is worth a try #people seem so ignorant and insensitive and i felt the burning need to adress that #opinions are welcome #but this is something that hits home (literally) so i won’t budge

[freeuselandonorris]

hello please some unhinged mctwinks exploring the post-podium opportunities to, idk, pee on each other or sth (your pal emptyhalf)

this is a GOD TIER PROMPT and one of many reasons i treasure you.

this is 2500 words of filth. i’ll x-post it to AO3 for anyone who’d rather read there!

cw: piss kink, spit, generally gross boys being gross. don’t say i didn’t warn you !!

“You know what’s, like, actually really fucking sad,” Lando says, rolling onto his back so he’s at a weird right-angle to Oscar and craning his neck at a truly stupid angle to look up at him. 

Oscar prods him in the head with his socked foot. “Go on. I’m sure this will be very tragic.”

Lando sighs dramatically and bats at Oscar’s foot. “I feel like—how do we even celebrate this?”

They’ve been hanging out in Oscar’s bedroom for nearly three hours now and neither of them has initiated sex, which is bizarre and unnatural. Mostly it’s probably because they’re both still jet-lagged. Oscar’s had a couple of beers already—this is his only cheat day between now and the end of the season and damnit, he wants to take advantage—but largely all it’s doing is making him feel a bit sleepy.

“What do you mean,” he says, and kicks Lando gently in the head again. “Did you want a parade? Naked girls holding signs saying ‘well done Lando and Oscar’ and doing the can-can in the living room?”

“Yeah, I’d take that,” Lando says. “Wait, the can-can? Are you from the past?”

“I’m sure Zak’s planned something extremely cringe for tomorrow,” Oscar says, ignoring him. “And then you can spend an hour bitching about how much you hate it and also hate being the centre of attention.” He finishes the last mouthful of his beer, which is warm and slightly foamy. 

Lando groans and flops his arms over his face. “You know how most of them celebrate? I bet George gets, like, a blowjob. That’s his special treat.” The disdain dripping from his voice is something else. He grabs Oscar’s foot and rubs it over his face, because he’s fucking disgusting like that. Oscar’s not a foot guy but he’ll allow it. “Like, a Tuesday for us is basically birthdays and anniversaries for them.”

“‘Them,’” Oscar echoes, putting his empty bottle down so he can do the air quotes. 

Lando puts Oscar’s toes into his mouth and chews at them thoughtfully. He really is fucking vile. Oscar’s so fucking fond of him. He curls his toes against Lando’s teeth and then pulls away, grimacing at the feeling of wet sock. 

“Normals,” Lando says, and wriggles up to straddle Oscar. “Yanno. The straights.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but grabs Lando by the hips. They tussle briefly, until Oscar gets a hand under Lando’s hoodie and tweaks his nipple, making him yelp and squirm pleasingly over Oscar’s semi. “So you’re saying you’re sad because you’re having too much good sex and you got a podium? Fuck up, mate.”

Lando grins down at him, tongue running along the edges of his sharp little teeth. “I’m just saying. A blowie doesn’t feel like a fitting tribute.” 

He has to stifle a giggle as he says ‘blowie’. Oscar scrunches his nose. 

“Maybe we need to move onto the weird stuff,” he says idly, stretching his arms out above his head and grabbing the headboard so his t-shirt rides up. Predictably, Lando takes the hint and shoves it the rest of the way up to his armpits, licks a broad hot stripe down his sternum.

“What do you mean, weird stuff,” says Lando against his right pec, sounding hurt. “I thought we already did weird stuff.” 

To prove his point, he lifts his head just far enough to spit, saliva dripping from his pursed lips to run in a hot trickle down the dip of Oscar’s stomach. Lando catches it with his tongue before it runs into his navel, licking it back up.

“You are so fucking vile,” Oscar says, like his cock’s not jumping in his sweatpants. “I dunno, you came second, didn’t you? Dealer’s choice.”

Lando pushes himself up then, squinting at Oscar. “Anything I want,” he says, sing-song like he’s testing the waters. His eyes are gleaming.

“Within reason,” Oscar amends. Just in case. To get things moving along a bit faster, he wriggles out of his t-shirt.

Lando tips his head to one side, thoughtful. 

“You look like a really stupid dog when you do that,” Oscar tells him, and Lando punches him in the stomach, then immediately undermines his effort to seem offended by tipping himself forward and bracing himself with his hands either side of Oscar’s head so he can rub himself off against Oscar’s thigh. 

“Right,” he says, gazing right at Oscar from about four inches away. He’s got annoyingly beautiful eyes, which is a problem because it makes it very hard for Oscar to deny him anything at all, ever. Thank God they race with helmets on. “I wanna piss in your lap.”

It’s so far removed from what Oscar had been expecting to hear—it’s not even a combination of words he’s entirely sure makes sense together—that he splutters into laughter, accidentally knocking their foreheads together. Lando makes a high, offended noise and bites at his jaw.

“That’s not a thing,” Oscar tells him, letting Lando kiss him briefly, tongues sliding messily across each other.

“Yes it is,” Lando says when he pulls back. “I saw it on xHamster.” He bites at Oscar’s top lip, a sharp nip, then sits up, bratty and dishevelled. “C’mon, you said anything I wanted and I wanna try this.”

He’s already tugging at the drawstrings of his sweatpants. Oscar shoves his hands away, trying not to get distracted by the heavy shape of his cock distending the front of them. “Whoa. No piss on the bed, fuck off.”

Lando actually pouts at that, like Oscar’s being somehow unreasonable. Oscar loses his internal battle and cups him through his joggers, rubbing the head with his palm. Lando’s eyelashes flutter pleasingly. 

“Fine—ah—fine, we’ll go in the bath then,” he says. His voice has gone slightly breathy already. He’s so easy for it. “Here, bring that blanket for us to lie on.” 

He waves a hand at the grey blanket thrown over the chair Oscar uses for laundry storage. “Oh, come on,” Oscar says. “My mum bought that.”

Lando shrugs and slithers off Oscar’s lap to check the label. “Here,” he says, waving it triumphantly. “Machine washable, 40C.” He pronounces it like sees. Probably he’s never met a washing machine in his life. 

Oscar lifts his hands in defeat. “Fine. Go on.” 

It feels extremely silly watching Lando spread the blanket out across the bottom of the bath and then lying down on it while Lando pulls his hoodie off, trying to keep all the tender bits of his body out of Lando’s way while he gets himself in and straddles Oscar’s lap. It’s not a bad-sized bath, but it’s not really built for two. 

He pulls his knees up slightly so Lando’s tipped slightly forward, one hand steadying himself on Oscar’s shoulder, their erections snug against each other with layers of fabric in between.

“This better be worth it,” he says when Lando’s finally got himself settled. “So much admin.” 

He can’t help but rock up into the warm weight of Lando across his hips. Lando beams down at him, grinding against him so hard it’s on the verge of crushing his balls, but in a good way, somehow. Oscar lets his head fall back against the bathtub with a dull thunk.

“Alright, alright,” Lando says, breathing noisily. “Shut up, yeah, let me just—“ 

It’s actually happening, Oscar realises with a senseless thrill down his spine. Half of him hadn’t really believed Lando was going to actually do it, had assumed he’d just named the grossest thing he could think of to fuck with Oscar’s head. Which is probably still true, but.

Lando bites his bottom lip and squirms, screwing his face up. Oscar’s gaze flicks down between their legs just in time to see a wet spot appear on Lando’s sweats, darker green against the neon. 

“Fuck,” Oscar says involuntarily, feeling himself flush. His cock kicks in his pants for no discernible reason. 

Lando squawks and hits him in the chest. “Don’t commentate!” He writhes, looking briefly agonised. “Oh, you prick. I’ve lost it now. Fuck.”

“Oh my god,” Oscar mutters. “Look, I’ll shut my eyes until you get going, yeah?”

He does so, lifting his hands to cover his eyes. He listens to Lando grumbling under his breath and shifting around on top of him, and then everything goes still and silent. Oscar’s about to take his hands away and ask if everything’s okay, but then Lando lets out a sudden rush of held breath and his fingers tighten on Oscar’s shoulders. 

Nothing happens for a second, and then the wetness soaks through Oscar’s joggers and he lets out a strangled gasp.

It’s—not good exactly, but it’s intense. Lando’s grinding lightly against him as he pisses, drenching them both at once. It’s hotter than he’d have expected, both in terms of the temperature of it and the way it makes his cock twitch as his pants begin to stick to him. 

And then he opens his eyes and looks at Lando’s face. 

He can’t stop his little groan: Lando looks the same way he does when Oscar’s fucking him, head tipped back, bottom lip caught between his incisors, flash of tongue visible behind. 

Oscar looks down the line of their bodies, at the soaking patch covering both of their laps, the sodden fabric clinging to the outline of Lando’s erection. He reaches out and covers it with his hand, squeezing him through the dripping fabric, letting it run over his hand. It looks utterly obscene through the wet fabric. He’s really unfairly hung for someone who looks in all other respects like a particularly ripped 12-year-old. Maybe it’s a perspective trick.

Lando slits open his eyes, gazing down at Oscar. He looks fucked-out already, and Oscar grabs at his thighs to give himself more leverage to grind himself up. Lando laughs, a rough sound low in his throat, and shoves his soaked sweatpants down his hips far enough to get his cock out and piss all over Oscar’s stomach.

It’s the wrongness of it that’s the turn-on, Oscar thinks distantly, stomach twitching under the stream. It’s viscerally filthy in a way that he’ll probably have a crisis over later, but right now he couldn’t give a fuck.

“Up a bit,” he says, surprising them both. Lando inhales sharply, the ragged edges of his fingernails biting into Oscar’s shoulder where he’s still holding himself steady with his free hand. He adjusts his angle, sending a stream across Oscar’s chest. It pools into the hollow of his neck, running back into his hair. 

Oscar opens his mouth, sticks out his tongue just a bit.

“Oh, you’re nasty,” Lando murmurs, delighted. Oscar raises his eyebrows, curling his tongue. It’s always nice to shock Lando. Rare, but nice.

Lando has to kneel up a bit, slipping on the wet blanket beneath them, and the loss of contact to his dick absolutely fucking sucks, but it’s worth it for his expression when he manages to hit Oscar’s cheek and chin and spray across his tongue.

Oscar splutters a bit, more at the sensation than the taste—it’s not really getting far enough into his mouth to actually taste it, just spitting it back down his chin, letting it run down. Lando’s eyes are blank and unfocused with pleasure, mouth hanging open. Oscar does his best to hold his gaze. 

“Fucking gross,” Lando affirms as his stream begins to slow to a trickle, dribbling over his fingers and Oscar’s stomach. He says it like the highest of compliments. His pupils are blown, and he grins loose and pleased before he tips in to kiss Oscar hard, mouth running over his wet skin. 

“Your fucking idea,” Oscar says into his mouth, laughing—he can barely get the words out, muffled by Lando sticking his tongue down his throat. 

He’s jerking off fast an eager, arm moving so fast Oscar can feel the movement of it through his thighs. Oscar pushes wet hands into his hair, holding him in place as Lando’s mouth falters against his. He’s definitely gonna have beard burn from Lando’s appalling facial hair, but whatever. 

Lando moans into his mouth and comes all over Oscar’s stomach. The mess of it immediately begins to slide down Oscar’s side and he sends yet another mental apology to his mum’s blanket before grabbing Lando by the hips and yanking him down to sit on his dick.

Yelping, Lando drops his forearm to Oscar’s shoulder, one hand wrestling his softening cock back into his pants before Oscar accidentally squashes him. Oscar fights him down, thrusting up greedily and trying to pin Lando in place. His brain is wiped clean of all impulses except grinding Lando’s arse against his soaking, trussed-up dick until he comes.

For all he sometimes acts like he doesn’t know what to do with his limbs when he’s not in the car, Lando’s got surprisingly good hip action. Their stomachs slip against each other, slick with Lando’s come. Oscar claws at the small of his back, plants his feet and shoves his hips up to meet each roll of Lando’s. 

Lando giggles and shoves three fingers between his parted lips, fucking Oscar’s mouth, smearing spit. Oscar doesn’t even feel bad that he bites down when he comes into his pants, Lando pinned down so hard against him he can hardly breathe.

They sort of collapse against each other once Oscar’s finished shaking and whimpering and sucking on Lando’s fingers to muffle the more embarrassing noises threatening to get out. All at once, Oscar becomes aware that he feels absolutely disgusting. His mouth tastes vaguely of salt. 

“Wow,” Lando says after a minute. It takes him a couple of attempts to sit up properly. He looks like Oscar feels: a bit shell-shocked, a lot fucked-out. 

“You’re doing the washing,” Oscar mumbles, wiping his mouth with the back of one hand. Lando grins and ducks down to kiss him again, sweeter now. 

“Just leave it all in here and we’ll shower and rinse it all off in one go,” he says, shuffling back until he can offer Oscar a hand to pull him up. “And then we can go lie down and I’ll explain why all your opinions about the new Counter-Strike are wrong.”

“Sounds good,” Oscar says a bit blearily. One thing you can say in Lando’s favour is he doesn’t mind if you nap through his infodumps.

Lando smiles at him in a way that looks worryingly fond and drags himself up to sit on the edge of the tub so he can unhook the shower head and get the water running warm. 

“I’d better get thinking,” he says contemplatively.

“About what?” Oscar says, trying to struggle out of his wet pants. He’s gonna get clean and drag himself to bed and sleep for about four hours, and then he’s gonna make Lando fuck him through the mattress.

Lando smirks and aims the shower at his face. “About what I’m gonna do to you when I win.”

#do i put this in the main tag? #yeah fuck it #lando norris/oscar piastri #mctwinks #ln4 #op81 #prompt fill

[mightyflamethrower]

Bidtches from hell man the podium.

Three weeks ago, the media marveled at the meltdown within the Republican Party over the House Speaker self-imposed disaster. Now that the House GOP has managed to stop shooting themselves in the foot, however, the potential for a collapse of the coalition has suddenly become more acute across the aisle. Will Democrats split and collapse over the war Hamas launched on Israel?

As Molly Ball writes for the Wall Street Journal, right now the battle between progressives and liberals, and Jews and everyone else in the Democrat coalition, looks far more serious and much more difficult to resolve:

To many on the left, the Israel-Hamas war is spurring what feels like a permanent rupture, when previously sublimated differences become impossible to ignore and everyone must choose sides. The weeks since the Hamas attacks have riven the liberal coalition, pitting erstwhile allies against each other as ugly accusations fly in both directions. From the halls of power in Washington to street protests and social media, progressives find themselves at odds with those they once saw as kindred spirits. Both pro-Israel and pro-Palestinian advocates describe a feeling of disillusionment as relationships fracture and harsh words are exchanged. The result, many predict, could be a breach that splits Democrats for a generation with untold political consequences.

Indeed it could, and it appears that may be exactly what progressives want. The hard Left, led by its Hamas Caucus, wants to force Democrats to either kneel to their election muscle by abandoning Israel and the Jews, or face ruin in 2024. The Muslims in the Democrat coalition are not even being subtle about it either, as Ball points out, declaring outright that they have captured the youth vote that Democrats desperately need:

“If you are Arab-American, Muslim-American or Palestinian, you feel like you don’t matter, you feel invisible,” said Waleed Shahid, a progressive strategist and former spokesman for the Justice Democrats, which has supported the progressive Congress members known as the squad in primaries against more centrist Democrats. “If you are advocating at all that Palestinian and Israeli lives should be treated equally, there’s a feeling that the party doesn’t care about you at all,” he said. The result, Shahid warned, might be that a president already struggling to ignite the enthusiasm of young and minority voters loses them completely—a recent Gallup poll found Biden losing 7 percentage points of support with voters under 35 in the past month, he noted—or that the party splinters as it did in the Vietnam War era. Others have drawn parallels to the left’s split over Soviet communism in the 1950s.

Note the presence of the Justice Democrats — the socialist group that backed the Squad and members like Ilhan Omar, Rashida Tlaib, and Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. They have already had an outsize impact on the broader Democrat coalition, and it’s not just the Justice Democrats threatening to flex muscles at the ballot box. A group called the National Muslim Democratic Council demanded  yesterday that Joe Biden force Israel into a cease-fire, or else have Muslims work against Democrats in battleground states in 2024:

“It has become evident that our voices are being ignored, but our votes will not be. Simply put, as Gaza turns red, so could crucial battleground states,” the council said in a letter Monday to the White House and Democratic Party. “Your administration’s unconditional support, encompassing funding and armaments, has played a significant role in perpetuating the violence that is causing civilian casualties and has eroded trust in voters who previously put their faith in you,” the group also wrote. “We will mobilize increased voter turnout to make our voices heard,” the council also wrote. It added that Michigan, a swing state with a large Muslim population that went for former President Donald Trump in 2016, went for Biden by 2.6% in 2020. “We emphasize the significance of Michigan, Ohio, Iowa, Florida, Arizona, Nevada, Georgia, New Jersey, Pennsylvania, and Tennessee, where many of our voters reside,” the group also said.

There’s just one little problem with this threat, which is that Muslims only make up a population that’s half that of Jews in this country, and Jews vote more often and reliably. This may not be an all-or-nothing in either group — some Muslim voters no doubt abhor what took place in Israel, while some Jews may want Israel to stand down — but among both groups, it’s fair to assume diametrically opposed positions.

Which means that Democrats may have to choose which demo to cut loose. On those terms, the Hamas Caucus and the NMDC will clearly lose. Jewish Democrats vote more reliably with the party, held fundraise and organize more and for longer, and Israel is more popular with the broader electorate than Hamas will ever be.

Besides, Jewish voters spurned by Democrats in this situation may not necessarily thunder over to the GOP, but they certainly know the GOP would welcome them if they did, especially on the issue of Israel vs Hamas. The NMDC has no place else to go, except maybe the Greens. If they don’t know that yet, they’ll learn it the hard way soon enough.

That doesn’t make the threat entirely empty. In a sense, this parallels the GOP’s House Speaker fight. No party dominates in the US, and elections run closer than ever. That gives fringe factions outsize leverage within these fragile coalitions, which is something that is somewhat new in the American political experience. Parliamentary systems deal with these factions by having separate parties, holding elections, and then seeing which leading party can form a governing majority. The American two-party federalist system manages the faction fights within their tents before elections and then see who wins at election time. It’s still the same process, and in these closely divided times, a renegade faction can spell disaster for the party facing an internecine fight.

Even beyond all of the electoral politics, however, is an issue of core values. Israel is the clearest parallel in the Middle East to the same classically liberal values we hold in the US, especially when it comes to self-determination, diversity, and civil rights. Hamas’ charter promises nothing but a brutal theocratic tyranny modeled on its sponsor Iran, a genocide of Jews, and forced submission to Islam for everyone else.

Is it really so difficult for Democrats to choose which side to support?

Scratch a progressive deep enough and an anti-semite will pop out every time

[iidigestive-readerii]

The Good Jedi: Part Four

Satine: Two transmissions came in to the Mandalorian embassy. Call the Council and whoever necessary. They’ll want to see this.

There were many things Mace enjoyed about being Master of the Order, but being at the beck and call of Republic politicians was not one of them. Except this politician was technically not even a part of the Republic. Or should be alive for that matter.

But he called a meeting for two hours later, staying in one of the seats and reviewing flimsiwork from the last campaign that had been completed by his system army. It was a tedious task, and he was relieved when the members started to file in. 

Quiet chatter started to fill the room, familiar voices overlapping each other. Mace glanced at the time and rose, beginning to stack his materials. He gave a nod when he saw Obi-Wan and Duchess Satine walk in, about to say something when he froze.

The room quieted, everyone staring at the addition. 

“Evening Mace.”

“...Ahsoka.” Mace bowed his head quickly, feeling red hot shame creep up his neck. He thanked the Force that Anakin hadn’t shown up yet. “Dare I ask?”

Satine sighed, walking to the projector table while she spoke, ignoring the surprised faces. “If we’re going to war - and the odds of that occurring are high,” she sighed while putting the chips into the projector. “I need an aide-de-camp, and it doesn’t make sense to have a Jedi General as one if he has a larger war to fight.”

“And a Jedi padawan is somehow better?” Mace asked with the raise of his brow, aware of the scowls shot his way. “Former padawan.”

“I don’t know about you, but having the Jedi that - “

“‘Snips?!” Anakin stood at the entryway, frozen, the light of the hallway on his back. Padme and Aayla were behind him, both of them staring at young woman. It was not a situation anyone anticipated a week ago, but here they were. Looking between everyone, Anakin frowned and stepped down a few. “What - Obi-Wan - what - “

Rolling her eyes, Aayla pushed her friends away and hopped down the steps. She wasted no time, gathering Ahsoka in her arms. The younger woman melted in a way that she hadn’t yet, tears falling down her cheeks. 

Mace watched the scene, the two woman whispering, the quick glare shot at the Chosen One, the reunion taking place. Though he’d been hesitant once upon a time about allowing Aayla into the Order at the ripe age of six years old, and then being the padawan of Quinlan Vos… but in his opinion, Aayla was everything that Anakin wasn’t. Powerful in all the ways her friend wasn’t, holding all the ideals of the Jedi code close and so good at negotiation without sacrificing her virtues. She was good at all of it while maintaining so many loving relationships - platonic, romantic… everything. 

If he had his way, Aayla would be the next Master of the Order. He desperately hoped so.

Yoda cleared his throat, the attention of the room shifting to him. He forced a smile. “Heartwarming this reunion is, but move forward, we need too. Duchess?”

“...right.” Satine sighed heavily, her finger hovering over the play button. “The Mandalorian embassy received two transmissions this morning. One from my sister Bo-Katan, to the system… and one from Death Watch.”

Bo-Katan shimmered into existence, covered in armor, on a podium, surrounded by her people, somewhere in the mines on one of the moons and planets of Mandalore. Exhausted, fiery…

“Mandalorians! I stand before you not as Death Watch… but as your princess. As my sister’s advocate…and I know you all don’t care for me… but we love our Duchess - you love our Duchess - and they have our prince… and that is unacceptable!” 

“They’re fine if you’re captured but they draw the line at Korkie?” Anakin muttered while the Mandalorians cheered and hollered. 

“We love our children,” Satine whispered. She didn’t resist as Obi-Wan tugged her closer, wrapping his arms around her middle. The gesture was so intimate, so…

…oh. 

“He’s your son.” Mace wasn’t surprised as they both nodded, and turned back to the Holo. 

“We are Mandalorians! We do not cower when outsiders mess with us! And Pre has messed with the wrong clan! We have tasted peace - and no more fighting!” There was more cheering, and Bo shouting in victory alongside everyone.

She froze, the video stopping. 

Had he known what would have occurred that morning, Mace would have stayed in bed. He had a headache already, watching the video play in the classroom turned war room and and rubbing at his temples. 

“...not good, this is.” Yoda leaned heavily against cane, shaking his head. 

“It gets worse,” Satine muttered as the first Holo shimmered away and the second appeared. It was Maul and Visla… and Korkie in the background, bound on the steps of the throne. Beaten, bruised, staring levelly into the camera. A small smile on his face like he had a plan up his sleeve.

“Goddesses…” Padme whispered. 

Pre smiled at the camera, looking at his partner briefly. 

Maul stepped back, igniting the Dark Saber and putting it by Korkie’s neck. 

“The Dark Saber? That’s been lost for centuries…” Mace whispered.

“...Duchess. I’m sure this needs no discussion.” Pre smiled. “I have something you want. One hundred million - “

“Surely I’m worth more than that.” Korkie scoffed, barely reacting as Maul turned the saber around and jabbed the hilt into his temple. He went sprawling, fingers loosening and moving as he struggled to regain his balance.

“One hundred million credits Duchess - your bastard for the throne… and your life.”

Maul stepped forward, stabbing the saber through Korkie’s leg and smiling at the hisses of pain. He twisted the blade around before removing it, pointing it again at Korkie. “Tick tock Kenobi… my patience is wearing thin.��� 

*

I'm thrilled to have this chapter finally written! it took forever to drag out of my brain, lol. I'll add the Ao3 and Tumblr chapter links some other time - enjoy! Let me know what you think!

#the good jedi #obitine fanfiction #the lawless au #the wrong jedi au #obi wan kenobi #satine kryze #korkie kryze #korkie is a kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsona tano #mace windu #ii digestive reader ii #ao3

[creabirds]

I saw Sebchal and I am here to provide. Not quite sure what you mean by controversies so I provided a range:

- Bahrain 2019 where post-race, Seb comforted Charles for losing out on his first win in the last laps. It spawned that picture of Seb cradling Charles’ cheek that belongs in a museum

- Singapore 2019 is actually perfect for the abo verse purposes because it was a VET-LEC-VER podium. Tension between Sebchal because Ferrari let Seb take the win over Charles but they also ignored Max to spray each other with champagne on the podium.

- Brazil 2019 where Seb and Charles crashed each other out if you want controversy in the purest form of the word

- Silverstone 2019 would also be hilarious cuz Seb rear ended Max and cost Max a podium- If Charles were to be comforting Seb (Seb dropped to 15th? because of the penalty from the collision) over Max post-race that would be a perfect scenario

hope i got it right that you wanted races and not PR content!

both are fine but tysm!!! also idk why i said controversies i meant moments in general the brainrot is getting to me

BUT WILL TREASURE THIS ASK !

#asks #my fic #abo verse

[thetwelfthcrow]

https://x.com/rbr_daily/status/1727424526395310370 ignoring the shit source, it’s funny how they’re trying to make it seem like lewis Actually considered joining RB 😭 if any talks took place it was to make sure he wouldn’t end up in a shit team in case things with merc went wrong, which is smart. but he knows he wouldn’t be welcomed nor appreciated in RB by a vast majority of the fans and even horner who would always see max as the number one (rightfully so!! max has achieved so much with the team) and as the legend he is he definitely wouldn’t let himself be treated like that. ofc fans who actually enjoy the sport would be happy to have two such incredible drivers in their team but unfortunately for most of them rivalry comes first

i can’t lie tho, i would absolutely eat up all the 4433 content but i think things would turn dramatic pretty quick.. people would definitely start making more fics about them angry fucking and falling in love in the meantime which is a trope i love and will never get bored of so that’d be nice 😋

lewis was like ain't no way y'all will see me cruising in a williams. if anything i'll go to fucking red bull.

don't forget that, if i remember correctly, red bull is the most diverse team on the grid. so within the team i think it'd be generally ok. sure, they won't reasily forgive him for his 2021 crimes (and neither should lewis forgive red bull) but i do think that, if not mercedes, red bull would be a good option. and yeah. it's highly, highly unlikely. but it is a very smart strategical move from him to pressure mercedes for his renewed contract!

and yeah the fans won't be nice either, you're right. but in the end it should only depend on how both max and lewis would be able to position themselves toward each other and toward the race wins/wdcs.

i'm not so sure if it would be so dramatic! call me optimistic, sure, but i think it 100% depends on what lewis and max's mindsets are in regards to the team and the wdcs. and how the team principal will manage this all and keep them in line. if lewis can put aside his dream for an 8th and be more than happy with regular podiums and occasional wins, then this could word. max is also a very good teammate, according to carlos/daniel/alex/pierre/checo, so i think they can get along. however, once on track, it'll be mad.

but YEAH THE FICS WILL BE GREAT AMAZING CHEF'S KISS. why do we need the canon transfer for it. c'mon now, everyone! write the fics! be delusional with me!

#Anonymous #wild wild day for us once again #but hey 4433 NATION NEVER LOSES #4433 #rbr!lewis #zhalia’s lil’ chit chat

[escmemesandstuff]

Song review: Ukraine

Well, we’ve got the first entry of Eurovision 2023! And as promised, I’m posting my review. Note that these reviews are based on the song right after its selection/release and are subject to change. If you don’t want to see these posts, just blacklist the tag “escmemes reviews”.

To give a small explanation on this and the upcoming reviews, they’ll consist of two or three parts: first, I’ll give my personal opinion on the song, then try to predict its chances of succeeding in the actual contest. Those two can contradict each other at times, because just because I might like a song doesn’t mean I see it as objectively successful, and vice versa. If the song was chosen in a national final, I’ll also give my opinion on the selection in general and mention some of my favourite songs from there.

Without further ado, let’s check what the latest winner has in store for us!

TVORCHI - Heart of Steel

Personal opinion: Let’s start by saying, I like the song. It’s a well-produced, catchy pop track. The lyrics might be more on the basic side, but I like the open nature of them; it can be interpreted as a song on Ukrainian peoples’ resilience during wartime (a message further supported by the Vidbir performance), but even when taken out of the context, it works well as a general empowerment song.

Speaking of the performance, I think it was the best of the selection alongside Krut’s. Some may think of the war-related imagery as a little bit too, what’s the word, anvilicious? But for some reason it didn’t feel preachy to me, maybe because they were still able to make a stylistic performance that supported the song rather than distracted from it. Which is good. And the lead singer was charismatic and confident on stage, so no complaints on that department, either.

Prediction: Here’s where the criticism comes in. While Heart of Steel stands well on its own, when it comes to the selection as a whole, there were multiple other songs with more success potential. What I liked about Ukraine’s latest entries was the willingness to take risks by sending a unique song with cultural influences, and the results have proven the risk was worth it (true, geopolitics also played a significant role in Kalush’s success, but even disregarding the war, the song in itself was outstanding and would've received a top ten result in any case). Now the country has gone back to playing it safe with an English-language, mainstream-friendly pop song. And while that doesn’t necessarily equal a low result, it’s likely we’ll hear similar songs from other countries, which won’t help in standing out. I also highly doubt we’ll see a Kalush effect for the second year in a row; the sympathies for Ukraine were high last spring, which obviously helped power them into a victory, but as the war goes on, it’ll fade into the background for the rest of Europe and have less of an emotional impact. Sounds horrible when put this way, but that’s how things tend to go. But even that aside, this song doesn’t have anything that screams “winner” to me. Winning entries tend to have some “wow” factor in them that encourages people to vote for them out of all songs; simply sounding nice isn’t enough.

So no, I don’t think this song has chances to win, but I do see potential for an otherwise good result (even though it’s hard to tell at this point, when no other songs are selected yet). For the reasons mentioned in my personal opinion, I can see this doing well in the jury vote, and it might very well please many televoters (aka the non-eurofan audience who may be put off by more “campy” songs). And of course, since it’s Ukraine we’re talking about, we can’t ignore the influence of neighbor/diaspora voting. At this point, I predict a placing on the left side of the scoreboard, maybe even on the top ten - but not on the podium.

Thoughts on the selection: First of all, props to the Ukrainian broadcaster for creating a well-produced show despite the circumstances. When watching, it was easy to forget this was filmed in a metro station. You don’t need a Melodifestivalen-style megashow to have a good selection.

As for the quality of the songs, it ranged from “blander than a slice of white bread” to “this could give Ukraine their second win in a row”. My favourite was Krut’s beautifully haunting ballad, and after the strong and emotional performance, I would’ve gladly backed the jury and sent it to Liverpool. (Seriously, this is the second year in a row that the Vidbir jury has a better taste than the general public. How about Ukraine just skips Vidbir next year and lets Jamala & Friends select internally about submitted entries?) I also loved Jerry Heil’s unique entry; sure, the live performance would’ve needed a massive revamp for the contest, but even tonight, Jerry’s emotional performance made up for the amateurish staging. My third place would go to Fiinka and her energetic song with ethnic vibes. 

#escmemes reviews #esc ukraine #esc 2023 #eurovision 2023 #eurovision

[thewildwaffle]

Alliance summit but the humans meet the Aliens that once tried to invade earth in its early stages

(could end bad or hilarity happens)

Writer's block has been trying to kill me, but so far, I'm still alive. PS: I only edited this with one read-through, so hopefully the brain words I typed make sense. Thanks for the idea!

As representatives filed into the great hall, the tension in the air grew. The Alliance Summit met regularly, but in smaller settings, often with many attending remotely. This was the first high-priority meeting in almost 15 standard solar cycles, and while physical attendance was not officially mandatory, it looked like almost everyone was already here with several mentiks to spare. Moki shifted uncomfortably in her seat. The duty of conducting these meetings rotated, and today it fell to her. From her seat behind the podium, she watched seats of various shapes and sizes be filled, row after row. She was sure the high attendance rate was due to the fact that this was the first summit since the human race informally joined the Alliance. After today, they would be official members. Since their discovery and introduction to the galactic community, humans had become something of a curiosity across the galaxy. They were rather big, physically. Among all the planets and systems of the Galactic Alliance, sentient life trended on the smaller side of size. Humans certainly weren’t the largest by any means, but they stood out in a crowd. Well, they stood out in a lot of ways, actually. It depended on who you asked, but some found them absolutely adorable and cute. Others were absolutely terrified of their appearance and/or behaviors. Many others found them a confusingly strange combination of both. Despite the differing views and initial takes, it was widely agreed that the humans had, to this point, proved to be exceptionally hardy and adaptable. Moki checked her comm device’s screen. Nearly time to start. The trickle of representatives entering the hall had slowed considerably at this point as everyone either took their seats or milled about in semi-quiet conversation. Well, maybe not quite semi-quiet. Moki turned her head towards a conversation that sounded like it was quickly devolving into a full-blown argument. She frowned as she squinted to try to make out who would be so rash to behave in such a way here of all places. The first figures she saw were five humans. Oh flarg.

Moki was not the only one to take notice. The rest of the hall hushed and watched to see what was going on. It didn’t look like whatever was going on had turned physical, thank the stars. However, both the humans and the gruep delegates were on their feet and looking like they may soon be at each other’s throats. Security was called over immediately. As conductor to the meeting, Moki felt she should lend an arm, and approached cautiously, keeping her distance in case security didn’t make it before an altercation started. As she did, she was noticed by the lead gruep delegate. He turned his gray scaly head towards her, large dark eyes alight with indignation. The humans turned as well. “They’re blocking our way and won’t let us take our seats,” the human that Moki assumed was the lead delegate explained in a harried tone. “They shouldn’t be here at all,” the lead gruep nearly growled. Moki sighed. Of course it was Kasax. She’d had few direct dealings with grueps in general, but had gone out of her way to avoid him particular delegate. Kasax was known for being rather ill-tempered and stubborn. Plus, Moki always noticed when he’d sneak a handful of Chintho seeds during meetings or breakout sessions when he thought no one was watching, and listening to him munch on them aggravated her like nothing else could. “I don’t understand,” Kasax continued, “why the alliance is ignoring its own bylaws! They, "he pointed dramatically at the humans, "have wronged my people, whom I will remind you have been members of the alliance for millennia, and as such, they have wronged the alliance! The only reason they should be allowed to be here is to apologize for their war crimes and grovel for our forgiveness!” Confused murmurs broke out across the Great Hall at this exclamation. War crimes? What war? What crimes? The humans and their home planet had only been discovered a mere fourteen solaric years ago. There’d been no reports of anything remotely close to what the grueps were accusing. Two of the three present human delegates had varying expressions on their faces as they looked around the Great Hall, looking for any explanation in the whispers of nearby onlookers. The third, the one Moki assumed was the lead delegate Human Emilian, stood with his shoulders back and a downward curving line across his face. As security officers separated the two groups of delegates a few lengths farther from each other, he returned his gaze back to Gruep Kasax and spoke with a voice loud enough for everyone to hear. “If any apologies are going to be made, I think it would be more likely that one should be made to us.” At this point, everyone in the Great Hall had been watching the disturbance, but with the human’s declaration, all confused whisperings and conversations died down. Emilian continued. “After all, human history is riddled with legends and myths of abductions and meddling. Thirty years ago, that was all it was: myths. Stories. They were just crazy conspiracy stories few people ever took seriously. Well, now those stories don’t seem quite as far-fetched anymore. And funnily enough, you look eerily familiar to some of the descriptions in those stories.” Gruep Kasax growled and stepped forward, but was stopped by the large security officer at his side. With a scowl, Kasax turned to Moki. “Well?” He huffed, “You’re conducting, yes? I invoke our right as established and long-standing Alliance members, the full backing of the Alliance in seeking repercussions and reparations against the human race before they can be considered to be allowed to join our ranks!” Moki stared at him. She stared at the entire group. Grueps, humans, and security guards. She sighed. Why did she have to be the conductor today of all Summits? It hadn’t even started and it had already gone wildly awry. As conductor, she felt responsible and she continuously reminded herself that this whole mess was not her fault. But it was her responsibility to get things figured out.

It took some time. And no small amount of arguing and reeling conversations back in. All the while, Moki could feel the entirety of the Great Hall’s occupants watching and listening intently as she directed the investigation from the podium. She shot a look to the large biet to her right who was in charge of recording notes for the summit. He looked like he had the same exasperation she felt toward this whole situation. The gruep delegates could have addressed their concerns about the humans’ inclusion long before the summit. It would have been handled quietly, professionally, and with far more tact than the mess they had created here and now. But, she, the biet recorder, and pretty much everyone else present knew that the grueps had waited until the last possible moment on purpose. The only thing they loved more than a spectacle was being at the center of a spectacle. In the end, the pieces of what had happened started coming together. Today’s mess started thousands of years ago. The Dark Infection. The magnetic field of the gruep homeworld had been momentarily disrupted enough to allow dangerous radiation in. Their world became sickly and many grueps fled to the stars to find new homes. They found Earth. Now, normally this wouldn’t be much of an issue for technologically advanced beings like the grueps to just take over. Thankfully for the humans, Galactic Alliance laws demand that colonization of already sentient-inhabited planets require heavy documentation and officially documented proof that both parties/species approve of the arrangement, and that neither party was agreeing under duress of any kind. Hence the “abductions” the humans had referred to. The grueps, desperate to hurry the approval process along as much as they could, botched the whole “not agreeing under duress” thing. It didn’t go well- for the abductors, the abductees, or for those who tried to communicate in any way with other humans from that point on. The grueps would then be intermittently leaving earth to either scout out other planets or return to their own for supplies or to lend aid when news of restoration efforts reached them. Each time they returned to Earth, they’d try again to deal with the humans, going to different continents where they hoped news of their previous attempts hadn’t spread.

Moki was suspicious of how vague the grueps were about their methods of persuasion in their various attempts. She hoped it was just because of how long ago this all was. The humans’ side of the story wasn’t much more enlightening either. Just ancient myths and folklore handed down through the generations. It didn’t sound good though. But that would be for an investigation that was beyond the scope of the present summit. The response to the grueps was less vague. The ancient humans saw the grueps as hostile invaders with incomprehensible technology. Since they were obviously not part of the Alliance at the time, they were not bound by its treaties or weapons pacts. They fought back. The ancient grueps meanwhile, had also been trying to wrangle legalities with the Galactic Alliance for colonization of various planets as well as with ongoing aid for their home planet. As such, they sometimes pulled away from the promising planet intermittently. When they returned to earth after a long stretch of time to try to again “convince” humans to let them colonize their planet, the humans were ready. The grueps hadn’t expected the weapons the humans had built. Before, they’d had spears, bows and arrows, metallic bladed tools, etc. Mostly small, primitive, handheld weapons. The grueps had learned how to deal with those. But the new weapons? Well, from the sounds of it, they were no calciar cannons or anything, but they had to have been massive feats of engineering. And they had been effective. The grueps suffered huge losses to their fleet. Anyone who bothered to look into the Galactic Alliance archives would know that the grueps around this time were, for a while, listed on the endangered species list. It was only because of their status as Galactic Alliance members entitling them to seek aid from the governing body that they survived extinction. It took longer than expected, but the bulk of the damage to their homeworld was able to be reversed. The surviving planet-bound grueps called back all those who had been seeking new homes among the stars. The grueps at Earth left and limped their ships back to their own homeworld. “We were once a large and powerful race,” Delegate Kasax spoke loudly and with all the drama he was known for. “Our history is full of tales and evidence of our advancements in technology, medicine, and science. We have spent the centuries since working to regain our former glory. Where would we be now though, if we had not had to spend so many years rebuilding? If we had not been so devastatingly set back?” Kasax sighed so deeply and forlornly that it made Moki twist her ears slightly in annoyance. He really should have just been an actor instead of getting into politics. He was obviously a good actor, and then also no one here would have to deal with his theatrics. “And now,” Kasax continued, “after all our efforts to regain our former glory, the race that played part in our troubles, the race that extinguished so many of our numbers at such a critical time, are being invited to take their seats in this council as if nothing had happened. They should not be here! We have not forgotten! We have not forgiven! We demand repercussions!”

Voices across the Great Hall broke out. Some ventured that the grueps were right and maybe the humans should be barred. Some claimed the decision and the entire summit should be postponed until a formal investigation could be made. Others argued that the humans were in their right. They were just defending their home. “But they attacked a member of the Galactic Alliance!” “Yes, but they weren’t members.” “Would that reasoning set a dangerous precedent?” “But they didn’t attack, they defended?” “Are we sure? This was so long ago! We can’t decide without hard evidence!” “Yes, that’s why I’m saying we should postpone!” “Is it too hard to believe though? That they would attack?” “By the stars, I heard a rumor about humans once, and they have been known to-” “Gossip is not a basis for incrimination!” It was a cacophony of voices and they all started bleeding into each other. What a mess, Moki rubbed her brow. The Summit never officially started, and it was now chaotically evolving beyond standard procedures and manners. The meeting recorder looked like he had pretty much given up on keeping up with the pandemonium. She really, really wished she wasn’t in charge of conducting today. With an internal groan, Moki typed in a command to the podium’s screen. All microphones in the Great Hall shut off. For a quick moment, the arguments continued until the various speakers realized what had happened. They paused and turned their attention back to Moki at the podium. Moki sighed and twisted her long neck around to quietly take in all the now-silent delegates. She then entered another command and the mics turned back on.

“This is a development that will be handled officially and in a way befitting of the station of this council. Until then, we will continue with the official proceedings of this meeting.” “Then they should be removed!” Kasax interrupted, motioning to the humans. “That is the point of our argument. They attacked our people and brought us closer to the edge of extinction. Their weapons are still out there and could be used again!” Delegate Emilian rose a hand into the air, looking at Moki expectantly. She nodded at him to speak but remembered the humans had not been able to reach their seats and thus had no microphone. Human Emilian took the initiative and asked the nearby kreechen delegates to borrow theirs. “If I may,” the human began, “we were invited to attend this summit, and officially join the Galactic Alliance. Despite this… rough start, we are willing to continue with proceedings. After all, we come from a planet full of people who do nothing but disagree and start fights based on wild claims, even at governmental levels. We had hoped for better here, but are used to it.” Emilian then looked back to Moki. “We accept whatever investigations need to happen moving on, but we will do so as full and equal members of the Alliance. ” The human delegate turned to look at Gruep Kasax, “I for one look forward to learning the truth about this alleged history, and these mysterious weapons our ancestors supposedly built. If they did indeed exist, I would love to know how they disappeared into thin air. Archaeologists would have found at least evidence. Or at least, I would imagine they would have if what Delegate Kasax says is true.” Murmurs ripple across the Great Hall. The gruep delegates look like they might explode with rage. With a raised hand, Moki called for silence. “That’s a very good point. Perhaps the gruep delegates can share what, if any, descriptions still exist of such dangerous weapons the humans allegedly wield?” The description was given. It did sound dangerous. Everyone watched the human delegates for their response. They didn’t move, except for one whose mouth fell open. When Gruep Kasax was done with his account, the humans still didn’t move. Finally Delegate Emilian blinked a few times and then pinched the bridge of his nose. The hall was silent as he slowly leaned forward to the microphone again.

“Are you talking about the pyramids?” That threw everyone for a moment. Then whispers started. “Wait, so the weapon is real?” “Do they know what Kasax is talking about?” “Where are they?” “Do they still work?” “They should be removed.” That last one was repeated and spread until it was formally voiced by a delegate from Monbah 6. “Perhaps,” the delegate continued, “the humans could allow for the search and removal of any such weapons. I think I speak for many when I say that it is highly unlikely that, should they truly exist, they’d still be in any usable condition now, but it would serve as a momentous token of peace and goodwill until this whole mess can be sorted?” There was a range of reactions across the Great Hall, but a large portion of them sounded affirmative. This was, they felt, a very diplomatic solution. Moki raised a hand and silence fell again. After a pause, she gestured to the human delegates. “I understand such a request would need to be discussed in a more detailed, future meeting, but would this be something the delegates from Earth be willing to consider?” The human delegates hardly took any time to confer with each other. It was barely more than a quick look shared between themselves and a few raised eyebrows. Emilian nodded and leaned back to the microphone. “With all due respect, we would be happy to give a show of peace to the grueps and to the Alliance as a whole. We understand the importance of diplomacy. After all, Earth is home to hundreds of different governments, cultures, and creeds, and we rarely agree with each other on any given topic. “However, I feel we would easily agree that the pyramids are not weapons, and if they are damaged or removed in any way, you will have a planet of angry humans to deal with.” Gruep Kasax huffed indignantly. “Is that a threat?” Human Emilian shook his head. “Let the record show that we are not threatening anyone. What I said was merely a statement. The pyramids are important monuments of great cultural significance. If you demand a token of goodwill from Earth, ask for something else that’s possible to give.” A multitude of voices started all at the same time, asking questions and adding comments, and just trying to talk over each other. Moki cut them off with a hand. Really, this whole meeting was so disorganized. “Would you say, Delegate Emilian, that these… pyramids, if they were examined and discovered to be the remains of ancient human weapons, would be impossible to remove?” The humans shared another look. “May I answer as a citizen of Earth instead of as a delegate of humanity?” Moki looked to the biet recorder, who was trying to organize the recordings of the still unofficially-started meeting. He shrugged. “You may speak off the record.”

“Thank you.” He turned again to Delegate Kasax. “The only way the pyramids will be removed from Earth will be over our collective bodies.” The Great Hall was dead silent except for a small snicker from somewhere in the back. Moki took a moment to gather herself. “Uh. Noted. Or, I guess,” she shared a look with the biet who had also frozen at the bold claim, “it’s unofficially noted.” She cleared her throat and shook her head. “Let the record show that the removal of Earth’s pyramids is not an acceptable token of peace to the humans, and that anything further of this entire matter will be decided only after the proper investigation and reconciliation procedures can be set in place.” She waited for the biet recorder to nod that such notes had been made. “Alright. Now,” she straightened her long neck and squared her shoulders as she addressed the uneasy delegates of the Great Hall. “If everyone could please take their assigned seats, I’d like to officially welcome everyone to the Galactic Alliance Summit…”

#humans are weird #humans are space orcs #thought itd be funny to twist the conspiracy theory that aliens built the pyramids #aliens #original writing #writeblr #humans #galactic alliance #long story

[just-an-inchident]

The brief examination and ranking of Lestappen F1 podiums no one really asked for but everyone needs to see nevertheless:

AUSTRIAN GP 2019

Our beloved Austria 2019 aka first ever Lestappen podium in F1. The race was super entertaining and the fact that they had their little inchident on lap 69 is fucking hilarious. Austria 2019 gave us angry Charles and happy Max on the podium and we should be thankful for that! The general mood was so tense, which made it a little awkward, but being awkward rivals is their speciality, so nothing new there. I just live for how controversial and iconic the whole situation was. They sadly didn‘t interact at all. Apart from Charles throwing murderous glances at Max they pretty much ignored each other completely and Charles just wanted to flee the scene. Bonus point cause Austria 2019 is the perfect basis for angry sex Lestappen fics. 9/10

SINGAPORE GP 2019

I don‘t really know how to feel about this one. Max and Charles were talking for a good amount of time while Seb was being interviewed post race, but afterwards there wasn‘t anything going on between them. There‘s not much to say, both of them really only interacted with Seb. I still think it’s a good podium, but also kinda boring for us lestappies who were hoping for some proper Lestappen content. Also Charles was pretty disappointed with the race strategy and even though he was trying to hide it, it was obvious how frustrated he was. Again. 7/10

ABU DHABI GP 2019

Thank god for Abu Dhabi! We were truly blessed that day! Abu Dhabi said Lestappen rights and gifted us with their best podium so far. The pictures say it all, this is the Lestappen content we want to see! Just look at our happy little babies. This time they‘re finally both in a good mood and I just live for all these giggles and fond glances and the spraying each other with champagne. Watch out boys, your crush is showing… This podium radiates pure Lestappen energy and we need that on a regular basis so bad. It’s also the first time they shared the podium with their favourite third wheel Lewis Hamilton. Bonus points for doing donuts together (more or less) and for giving us their awkward little semi-hug post race. 10/10

BRITISH GP 2020

Another podium where Max and Charles were thirdwheeled by the one and only third wheel Lewis Hamilton. We need to talk about how unexpected this race result was with Charles putting his shit car in P3 only to celebrate with Max in P2 of course, bless him. The celebrations were quite unspectacular to be honest and I wanna blame the covid regulations for the lack of interaction. We deserve better! But as we all know every Lestappen podium is a good podium! The fact that this is their most recent podium and it‘s been 550 days since then is so fucking frustrating. Can they finally end our suffering please? I‘m not even sorry that I‘m totally greedy and desperate for more Lestappen podiums. 6/10

#you obviously don‘t have to agree with me this is only my personal opinion #i had so much fun doing this #and i miss them on the podium together so bad #lestappen #charles leclerc #max verstappen

[chokemeanakin]

Misunderstandings - Anakin x fem Reader (angst +fluff)

Masterlist

Thank you for the request @artiza-n ! 💕

Wc: 6.4k

Summary: Anakin and reader get sent to Naboo to guard Padme and Clovis during a debate and some misunderstandings ensue. Mostly jealous angst, some fluff at the end— happy ending bc we all need that right now.

Gif from @swprequels​

“I still don’t understand why they need both of us,” you grumble, rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you walk out of the cruiser. The day is hot on Naboo, but grey and cloudy with a promise of rain later. The humidity makes your skin sticky, worsening your irritation.

“Think of it as a vacation,” Anakin pulls the luggage from the transport cubby, setting it on the ground beside him. “You watch over Clovis, and I’ll handle Padme. It should be a breeze.”

“Exactly. Which is why I don’t understand why they need both of us.”

You had just gotten back from a long and grueling siege on Pontoon, another one of those vast, endless desert planets in the Outer Rims. You’d really much rather be sitting in front of an air cooler right now, resting your tired bones and trying to forget the taste of sand.

“These are two very important Senators, Y/n,” Anakin waved off your attempt to help him with the luggage. “If anything happens to them at this debate, the Senate will lose important advocates for peace and the end of this war.”

You knew this, of course you did. Not that you’d completely agree with his statement-- Clovis always seemed a little shady to you, his morals seemingly scattered all over the place. You guessed that’s why the Council sent you, a simple marksman, to guard Clovis while the beloved freedom-fighter Padme Amidala got the most powerful Jedi to ever exist. 

“Besides,” said Jedi nudged you, lips curling into a teasing smile. “Don’t you want to spend time with me?”

Of course you do. Between the war and separate guild or Council missions you’d both been sent on, neither of you had time to even breathe in the others’ direction for months. The only reason the Council was able to wrangle you onto this cruiser was because Anakin was going to be there. Not that you’d even be able to spend much time with him during the day, although you were aware that you’d be sharing a room in between the Senators you’d be protecting at night…

You and Anakin meet the Senators at the hull of the ship. They walk down the ramp side by side, heads held high and hands clasped in front of them. Their movements are smooth, like they’re gliding on water, and the heat doesn’t seem to bother either of them.

“Master Skywalker. Y/n. Thank you so much for being here, it is so courageous of the both of you to be looking out for us,” Padme stands before you, beautiful as ever in one of her many extravagant, expensive gowns. The headpiece woven through her hair sparkles in the midday light, the warmth of her eyes capturing the rays of the brilliant sun. “However, I must say that I hope your services are not needed. I’d much rather this debate go by smoothly than have any dangerous interruptions.”

“I can assure you, we’ll take care of any problems before they arrive. Leave the dirty work up to us,” Anakin returns her smile, charming as ever. 

Anakin shoots you a glance and then follows her away, carrying multiple bags of luggage in each arm as Padme shows him where to put it. For such a small woman, she seemed to pack heavy. Unfortunately, this leaves you and Clovis to stand alone together, an awkward stillness settling before you.

“Um, Anakin has your luggage,” you yawn into your arm, gesturing to his receding form with the other. “I’m Y/n, and I’ll be your bodyguard for this debate.”

“You?” Clovis doesn’t smile, instead he scans you up and down with hawkish eyes. “You’re such a small thing. What could you possibly be able to do to protect me?”

It’s not said unkindly, but it still irks you. Your eyes narrow and you bite back a nasty retaliation for the sake of diplomacy. “You’ll find I’m pretty good with a blaster. The best, actually, according to the Jedi Council. That’s why they have me work with the Generals in the war.”

“Are you a General yourself?” Clovis begins to walk, heading toward the senate building. You follow at his side.

“Not exactly. They offered me the title, but I declined. I’m more of a freelancer, and once the war ends, I’ll go back to taking odd jobs. Besides, there’s no use in having an army if I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Humble. That’s admirable,” Clovis’s mouth tilts into something of a smile. “I, myself, could never turn down an army. Or the status, for that matter. You could be holding a lot of power if you pushed your way with the Jedi Council, you know.”

“My way?” you questioned. “I just told you, I don’t have a way--”

“And that’s your flaw,” he mused, chin still pointed up, never quite looking at you. “How curious-- your Jedi counterpart seems to have stolen all the ambition.” 

You roll your eyes. You never had a thirst for power, or status, or influence, or any of that. Your power came from behind a blaster, when your focus was trained on a single target and your finger was glued to the trigger. One simple twitch of a muscle, and you could end a life from miles away. That was your power, and it was all you needed.

He is right about Anakin, you have to admit. He was always looking to be better, not just for himself, but for the good of others. You love that about it, in fact it’s one of your favorite qualities about him. Sometimes, though, you wished he could see that he didn’t have to try so hard all the time to believe he was enough.

The blast of cold air that hits you as you enter the senate building wrenches you out of your thoughts. It whisks away the perspiration that had built up on your skin, cooling your body and calming your mood almost magically. The sounds of your collective footsteps tap along the glossy marble floor, echoing throughout the empty chamber.

“Aren’t you going to ask what we’re doing here?” Clovis leans against his podium, marked with a nametag spelling his name. Next to him is your seat, and on Clovis’s other side is Padme, followed by Anakin on the end. A cold dread fills your veins, just now realizing how boring tonight’s debate is going to be.

You sigh inwardly, tracing the engravings of your nametag with the tip of your finger. “My job isn’t to ask questions, it’s to observe.” 

“Well, observe away,” he pushes himself off the podium. “Although I don’t think it will be very entertaining.”

He’s right. You sit in your seat, legs crossed on top of your podium as you inspect your nails. It’s been three hours since you’ve arrived, the sun is setting, and all Clovis has done is stroll around the debate room, muttering to himself and pondering through his position. You’re bored out of your mind. Pulling out your holocom, you wonder if Anakin’s situation is any better.

“Y/n?” he picks up a long moment after you send the call, and his face projects blue before you. It’s loud where he is, and his eyes are looking at something else.

“Where are you?” you question. He sounds like he’s a party, but you know that can’t be true. “Where’s Padme?”

“She’s with me,” Anakin tilts his head, signalling that she’s sitting in front of him. “We’re at a restaurant getting dinner. I was just going to ask-- did you and Clovis go somewhere to eat yet?”

You drop your legs from the podium and lean in close to the com, speaking quiet so Clovis can’t hear. “No, he’s barely said a word to me since we got here. He’s been walking around the debate room all afternoon, just talking to himself.”

“You think he’s nervous for tonight?”

“Maybe,” you spare a glance at him. He’s staring at the domed ceiling, as if he’s counting the pillars coming out of it. “Or maybe he’s just psycho.”

“Oh, Clovis knows what he’s doing,” a femine voice interjects. Anakin’s eyes shoot forward again, immediately smiling as Padme speaks. “His pre-debate ritual is long and gruelling-- I should have warned you. He’s simply getting into his headspace, that’s all.”

“How long does it usually take?” you mumble.

“It shouldn’t be much longer. Make sure he eats beforehand, otherwise he’ll be crabby during the debate. And trust me, you don’t want to have to handle a crabby Clovis.”

Both Padme and Anakin laugh at this, and you force yourself to smile along. “Yeah, I’ll go see what he’s up to now.”

“Good,” Anakin says, momentarily drowned out by an uproar of cheers behind him. “We should get going, too. Padme needs to get dressed for the debate. See you soon.”

Anakin ends the call, and you’re left wondering how exactly the topic of dressing Padme came up. 

Shoving down your irritation and self-pity, you pocket your com and stand from your seat. Clovis’s head whips toward you like you had pulled a blaster on him.

“What?”

“It’s getting late,” you stretch your arms over your head, working out the kinks and aches from sitting so long. “I was wondering if you were hungry at all.”

“I can’t eat before a debate,” Clovis looks almost angry for a second, and then he glances down at his watch. His expression smooths into one of urgency. “Ah, we should head to the apartments. It’s time to get ready.”

The night is still warm, and the sidewalk drips with a rainstorm that you missed while you were in the senate building. The fresh air is nice, though, and you breathe in the smell of sweet flowers and savory restaurant food. The grumble in your stomach is hard to ignore, but you know you’ll manage.

Clovis leads you all the way to his suite, the temporary apartment that sits in conjunction with yours and Anakin’s, and Padme’s on the other side. Staying in this apartment complex made more sense rather than finding separate housing units, as keeping everyone together would aid in ensuring their safety.

Padme’s mansion would have been a nice stay, you think, but these apartment sweets are also quite luxurious. You walk into the master bedroom to find a formal, dark blue gown laid out for you on the bed. Next to it is a rumpled space where you assume Anakin’s suit had been, but instead there’s a note and a box.

Padme wanted to get to the senate building early, so we’re probably going to just miss you. Too bad, I won’t get to help you into this sexy blue dress. Maybe I can help you out of it later.

You laugh softly, smoothing your thumb over the inked-on smiley face before finishing the note.

I’m not sure if you had time to get anything to eat, so I got you something while we were out. See you soon.

A

You don’t need an “I love you” scrawled into the paper in order to know he wanted to add it. That would have been too risky, and there was no way you’d be able to make an excuse if anyone were to find it. Still, you rip up the note and throw it in the trash before opening the box underneath. Your nose is instantly filled with the smell of food, still warm, and you sit next to the blue dress, digging in unceremoniously.

You scarf down as much of the food as you can and then store the rest in the fridge before getting to work on making yourself presentable. You have to look put together, yet not so much that you stand out. You slip a couple of silver clasps into your hair and do your makeup, opting for a bold lip color because you don’t have much time to do anything fancy with your eyes. You’re running short on time-- you know this because of the knock on your door, and then the irritated sound of Clovis:

“Y/n, we have to leave now or we’re going to be late. You know how bad it would be to arrive late to this event?”

You stand in front of the mirror, desperately reaching behind you to grasp at the zipper of your dress. It would be so much easier if Anakin was here to reach it for you, but you make due and quickly pull it up. The dress is form-fitting and flows down into a puddle around your feet. A bit long, as you opted not to wear heels in case something went awry, so you bunch the skirt up in your fists and jog to the door.

“My apologies,” you open the door to find Clovis, now dressed in a pristine black and white suit with his hair gelled back. “I was making sure I had my equipment all in order.”

Clovis ignores your excuse, eyes instantly moving to take in your figure. You could swear they blow open wide for a fraction of a second before he composes himself, clearing his throat and masking his approval with his usual grim expression.

“You clean up quite elegantly. Now, we should head to the lobby, the limousine is waiting for us.”

…

You’re not sure what the point of a limousine is, as the walk from the apartment buildings to the senate building is 10 minutes tops. Probably for formalities, you decide, as Clovis helps you out of the vehicle. The building that had been vacant only a couple hours earlier is now swarming with Senators, all dressed in lavish, extravagant gowns. Everyone is holding a flute of some sort of drink, and they congregate in small groups, making small talk before the debate starts. 

Clovis wastes no time with socializing, and beelines for his seat.

You hang back, searching the crowd for Anakin. Without heels, many people tower over you and it’s hard to focus with the deafening sound of chatter filling your ears. But you’re trained for this, have spent your whole life blocking out the unnecessary, so you hone into your patience and scan the crowd closer. 

There.

You’d recognize that head of golden-brown curls anywhere, even if it was tamed down for this event. He’s standing tall among the Senators, eyes gleaming bright as he engages a whole crowd of them in some wily story. He and Padme look at each other and laugh, his hand on her shoulder and her hand finding his waist. Your blood suddenly turns hot, and you push your way through the crowd to make it to them.

If you could, you would march right up and pull him away from all those greedy stares. They’re practically drooling all over him, and Padme’s hand is still on his waist. But you know better-- you can’t let anyone know you and Anakin are familiar, so you stand at the edge of the crowd, meeting Anakin’s eye.

You glare at his face, then at Padme’s hand, then back to him. His eyes narrow into a warning, extremely fleeting, and then he continues on charming the crowd. You know what he wanted to say-- it means nothing. It doesn’t stop the heat from blossoming in the pit of your stomach, the irritated glare you shoot Padme before looking down.

Way to stay under the radar, you think, slipping away from the crowd and deciding it’s better to keep your eyes on Clovis than get angry over a move on your boyfriend that was probably innocent. 

Clovis is sitting at his seat, still as stone, surveying the crowd before him.

“You nervous?” you take your seat beside him.

“Not at all.”

“Good. You’ve been preparing all afternoon, I think it’d be ridiculous if you still doubted yourself.”

“You… have faith in me.”

“Of course,” your eyes softened at the vulnerability in his statement. “You’re a powerful Senator.”

He huffed, the crack in his green eyes immediately cementing over. “I know.”

And, there he is. Back to being gruff and dismissive. 

It’s quiet for a moment longer, but you’re okay with that. Small talk is not an interest of yours either, and you’d much rather sip on the flute of drink that a servant had given you than join the crowd on the floor. 

Unfortunately, you have trouble wrenching your eyes away from Padme and Anakin, who are still surrounded by drooling Senators. Padme looks like an angel, dressed in a floor length gown spun out of gold thread that you’re pretty sure came directly from the sun. It shimmers and sparkles as she moves, standing out like a beacon of light among the rest of the room. She is radiant, with a matching headpiece that glitters like a chandelier, the jewels braided in and out of her chocolate curls. Even her makeup is minimal yet blindingly beautiful, with a gold shimmer staining her eyelids and cheekbones that reflect the warmth of her topaz eyes.

“She’s gorgeous, isn’t she?” Clovis murmurs next to you, so quiet you almost don’t hear it.

“Who? Padme?”

“I believe she’s taking quite a liking to the Jedi.”

Heat sparks in your blood again. The fact that even Clovis notices how handsy Padme is being… then again, it’s a known fact that Clovis and Padme have a history, and he could just be reading too far into things out of jealousy.

“You shouldn’t call him that,” you choose to ignore his concerns. “Anyone could be listening.”

“You see that smile? That’s the smile she only ever gave me. I wonder if she even knows she’s doing it…”

“Clovis, Anakin isn’t allowed to form attachments. You have nothing to worry about.”

“It’s not him that bothers me,” he admits. “It’s her. Look. Look at the way she leans into him when she laughs.”

You take his advice and… now that he says it, she does get a little too close for your liking. Every time Anakin finishes a punchline, the crowd erupts in laughter and Padme joins in, bracing herself by gripping onto his arms and grinning into his neck. He catches her, ever the gentlemen, but he’s smiling too.

It’s a little more than innocent, and you can’t tell who’s fault it is. But that doesn’t help the jealousy steadily rising in your chest.

“The debate should be starting soon,” is all you say, leaning back in your seat and scowling into your flute of drink.

The only thing keeping you rooted to the seat instead of launching out of your chair to rip Padme away from Anakin by the hair was the fact that you know you’re the one who’s going to be sharing a bed with him tonight-- not her. 

You’re just hoping he even makes it back to your bed. Or will poor Padme need help with something else that requires Anakin’s doting attention?

A bell rings just on time, signaling for the Senators to take their seats. Anakin leads Padme over, arms hooked around each other, and she smiles at you as she approaches.

“Y/n, you look wonderful,” she whispers, and then slides into the seat between Clovis and Anakin.

Your cheeks burn in shame. How can you harbor such awful feelings toward her when she was so sweet? But the anger is worsened by the compliment she had just given you-- it’s one thing to be drop-dead stunning, why does she have to be so kind, too? What are you to compare? 

After tonight, Anakin’s probably going to think you are so difficult-- always complaining, always tired, never as pretty or gentle or kind. You don’t have a laugh that twinkles like wind-chimes, or eyes that reflect the light like soft glowing pools of honey. If she is the sun, you are just a cold, hard, chunk of ashen moonrock.

The debate goes on for an eternity. You zone out for a lot of it, stewing in your anger and drowning in self-deprecating thoughts. A few times you’re brought to the brink of tears before you remind yourself you’re here on a mission, and throw yourself into scanning every nook and cranny for something that could be amiss. Eventually, a break is ordered.

Senators begin to rise from their podiums to stretch their legs, including Padme. She tells Anakin she’s going to the washroom, and your eyes zero in on the fingers lingering on his arm as she leaves. You stand as well, meaning to walk a little and stretch your legs, and Anakin follows you.

“Padme’s right,” he catches up to you easily. “You do look wonderful. Blue really is your color.”

You stop by the open window, breathing in the fresh air as you search his eyes for truth. Does he truly mean it? Does he look at you with that same light he had looked at Padme with? Or is he only saying it because he has to? Because he’s used to complimenting you because you’re his girlfriend?

“What? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing,” you lower your gaze, picking at the marble stone engravings of the windowsill. 

“Y/n,” Anakin lowers his voice. He’s concerned now, picking up on how upset you are. “I said you look beautiful. What’s the problem?” “No, you said I look wonderful. It’s different than beautiful.” You mean to leave it there, but  can’t help but add, grumbling under your breath, “Padme looks beautiful.”

It’s immature. You know it as soon as you say it, but for some reason you can’t stop yourself. You just want Anakin to take more notice of how strong Padme’s coming on to him, to assure you that it means nothing. You know it means nothing, but you still need that confirmation.

“She does,” he says, and your heart drops. You look up at him, and he’s staring back with an intensity you can’t decipher. “She’s a Senator, Y/n, this is her debate. Of course she has to look beautiful.”

“She’s more beautiful,” the words fall from your lips and taste like poison.

“What’s this about?” Anakin’s voice is dripping in irritation. Once hearing it himself, he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. When he opens them, he speaks again in a softer tone. “Why are you comparing yourself to Padme?”

Gah, even the sound of her name coming from his mouth is like nails on a chalkboard. But you decide to do the first smart thing you have all evening, and take a lesson from him. You breathe deeply and bite down on your anger before answering.

“I’m not trying to,” you admit, eyes falling from his face to trace the exposed skin of his neck. “I just-- she’s flirting with you.”

“It’s harmless.”

“I-- I know. But…”

“It still bothers you. You’re jealous.”

“I have nothing to be jealous about,” even saying this, you can hear the lie in your voice. You repeat the statement, more to yourself, trying to believe it. He’s yours-- for now. He could just as easily be Padme’s. What if he wants to be Padme’s? 

“Look,” Anakin takes another grounding breath, then fits a finger beneath your chin, tilting it up to look at him. “I can see you’re trying to think rationally, so I’m not going to tell you that you’re being ridiculous. But… you’re being ridiculous.”

“Wow. Thanks.”

“You have to understand, I do not like Padme like you’re thinking. I--” he cuts himself off, eyes flitting around the room before leaning in close to whisper in your ear. “I love you.”

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin, making you shiver. His lips ghosting over your ear, the whispered promise of his devotion to you… suddenly, you feel very stupid.

“Okay,” you accept, and the bells ring again, signalling everyone to take their seats. You head on over with him, but not before putting as much heart into your next words. “I’m sorry for getting jealous.”

“It’s okay,” he gives you the first warm smile of the night, smoothing your hair down quickly before breaking off to take his own seat.

You sit next to Clovis, considerably calmer, replaying Anakin’s whispered “I love you” over and over in your head, the touch of his gentle hand in your hair. There was no need to make such a fuss, and honestly you were upset with yourself for ruining the night. You decide to make another smart decision for the night, and push away all of the negative thoughts to the deepest corner of your mind. No more, not tonight-- instead, you would focus on a way to make it up to him for being so ridiculous, and to thank him for being so patient with you.

It’s as you’re planning the rest of your night out, that you see Clovis’s knee bouncing under the podium. You know his time to speak is coming up soon, and his actions betray his mind. He’s such a liar. He is nervous.

“You’ve got this,” you tell him, reaching onto the podium to give his hand a squeeze. His palms are clammy, and he looks at you like you’ve struck him.

“I know I do,” he spits, but doesn’t move his hand from underneath yours. “It’s just pre-performance jitters.”

His next words are so quiet, you almost don’t catch them.

“It doesn’t help that I have two gorgeous women sitting next to me to witness this all.”

Now it’s your turn to look like you’ve been struck. You know he means for you to hear it, otherwise he wouldn’t have said it. Anakin seems to be thinking the same thing, as you can see him give Clovis a sidelong glance just as Padme takes the seat between them again.

“I-- um… we’re rooting for you,” you fumble. “No need to get nervous now.”

Clovis blows out a long breath, and then covers your hand that’s squeezing his palm with his other. “Thank you, Y/n. You’ve truly been so patient and accommodating this whole night. I must find a way to pay you back afterwards.”

“Oh, there’s no need--” your words are cut off as the delegates call for order, and then the debate resumes. You don’t miss the way Anakin’s back stiffens in his seat.

Clovis works up a nervous sweat in the minutes leading up to his speech, but when he gets up, he delivers it without a flaw. Everyone claps, and then Padme goes. You clap along once she’s finished, trying not to calculate if Anakin is clapping harder or faster for her than anyone else. He’s not��� but you just had to be sure.

There never seemed to be any threat for the entire night, except for one instance. A young man stood by the door, eyes shifting around for a moment too long to be casual, and Clovis seemed to notice as well. 

“Where, exactly, is that equipment you were speaking of earlier?”

“There’s a strap on my thigh, and it holds my blaster to it. Look,” you pull your skirt back to reveal your leg up to your thigh, where the tip of your blaster peaks out. “See, nothing to worry about.”

It doesn’t even cross your mind that Anakin would notice, or that he’d even mind.

Finally, the debate ends, and the senate room is dismissed. You let out a long breath, ready to just get out of this dress and relax in the suite with Anakin now. However, you stand to leave your seat but Clovis is in your way.

“Y/n, like I said before… I must show my gratitude for your services. Please, let me buy you dinner.”

“Oh-- Oh geez… um.... I can’t,” your eyes flit from Clovis to Anakin, who’s standing behind him. He’s got his back turned, bidding farewell to the new friends he made, but you know for sure that he’s listening. “I really need to go to bed, we’re leaving early in the morning.”

“You can come to my suite, we can order room service. They’re right next to each other… besides, you can always just stay over at mine for the night. There’s room.”

That tone. Those eyes. You know what he’s insinuating, and it sure as hell isn’t just dinner. 

“Clovis, I’d love to, but I really can’t.”

“Oh. Okay.”

The green cracks of his eyes are hardening again, the soft daisies growing from them being wrenched out in clenched fists and stomped under a boot. You want to stop them from freezing over in that insufferable ice again, and decide it might be nice to humor him for a job well done tonight. After all, he was a lot kinder to you than you thought he’d ever be, and part of you likes being one of the few people on his good side.

“How about I walk back with you to the apartments? We can do that much.”

Clovis smiles, and holds out an arm. “I’ll take it.”

As Clovis escorts you out of the debate room, you turn to look back at Anakin. He’s ushering Padme out of the crowds, staring after you as you leave. He doesn’t smile, or wave, or do anything really. Except look angry. 

A sudden ball of nervousness forms in the pit of your stomach. Oh no. Offering to do this was a mistake, that much is becoming clear with every step you take with Clovis latched onto your arm. You can feel Anakin’s eyes burning into your back the entire way out of the senate building, until you’re on the streets of Naboo and he’s off in a limousine with Padme. 

Of course he’s going to be angry at you now. You were mad at him for allowing Padme to flirt with him, and now he’s going to think you’re making a move on Clovis to get back at him for it. Even though that’s not at all what’s happening… Oh how the tables have turned. 

You’re jittery the whole walk back. Clovis tries to make conversation, but you only offer him short, clipped answers. Really, you should have shut down his advances in the debate room. No matter that you pitied him for being rejected by Padme and yourself, you should have said no. You didn’t owe him anything. But here you are, and now you are going to suffer the consequences from Anakin when you get back to your room.

“Are you sure you can’t stop in? Not even just for a drink?” Clovis asks as you make it to the top of the stairs. You turn the corner, and Anakin is leaning against your apartment door, arms crossed, clearly waiting for you. 

“Uhh,” you unwind your arm from around Clovis’s. “I really can’t. Sorry.”

Clovis follows your gaze, and sees Anakin. His tone turns steely. “Is it because of that Jedi?”

“No, oh my-- no!” you feign the most incredulous expression you can, nerves growing more frenzied as you grow closer to your apartment door. “I really am just so tired. Please Clovis, I have to go.”

“Y/n, it doesn’t have to be like this--”

“You’re right,” a deep voice cuts in. “It doesn’t.” 

Anakin takes the arm that Clovis refused to let go of, and slips it out of his grasp. Thankfully, for Clovis’s sake, he lets him. Anakin pushes you behind him and stands before Clovis, towering over him by a couple inches. 

“It was a pleasure serving you and Senator Amidala. Hopefully we can work together again soon. Have a good night”

Each word that comes from his lips are dripping with venom. Clovis grows red in the face, and you can tell he’s trying hard not to retaliate. In the end, he decides to turn and stalk back to his own apartment door. 

Once it slams shut, Anakin turns to you. You meet his eyes with the most innocent expression you can put on.

“None of that,” he hisses, and steps past you to walk into the apartment.

“Oh, come on!” you follow close behind, closing the door and jogging to catch up with him. He’s standing before the bed, roughly loosening his tie. “Anakin, please don’t be mad. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Really? How am I supposed to believe that after what happened earlier?”

“Yes, okay, I admit I was jealous of you and Padme. But I got over it! I swear I wasn’t trying to get you back for it, I promise. I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Anakin pulls the buttons off his shirt so hard, you’re afraid they might break. Suddenly, he is shirtless, and so very mad, and so very tall… and muscular… and… wow…

“You can’t even look me in the eye when you say that,” he argues, stopping to stand before you. You wrench your eyes away from his toned midriff and meet his eyes, which are blazing with hurt and anger. A warmth is rising in your veins-- a different kind than earlier-- but it’s beat out with something stronger. Guilt.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, trying so desperately to ignore the heat that’s radiating off his chest. “I really am. Clovis was just… kinder than I expected him to be--”

“Was he? Was he kind when he had you sit in silence all afternoon in the senate building? Was he kind when he refused to let you eat? When he guilt-tripped you into spending time with him?”

“That’s not exactly what happened,” you cross your arms and size him up. “And you’re not totally innocent either, you know.”

“Really?” Anakin cocks an eyebrow at you, sitting down on the bed roughly. He leans back on his arms, daring you to continue.

“You let Padme flirt with you, and you never told her to stop. You could have set some boundaries, told her to back off a little...”

“And you could have told me you were leaving with Clovis before gathering your skirts and skipping away,” Anakin bites back. 

“I wasn’t planning to! Anakin, please, both of us made mistakes tonight. Can we just agree on that?”

He frowns, eyes flickering over your still-dressed form. He motions for you to come closer and turn around, so you do. Gentle fingers work at the zip on your back, dragging it down to free you from the constraints. You remember the note he wrote from earlier, how he couldn’t wait to take the dress off of you, and grow disappointed at how the night had gone. This was not the context you had been expecting. 

The way his hands linger on your waist, you know he’s thinking the same thing.

“Okay. We both made mistakes.” You feel his soft curls against the bare skin of your back as rests his forehead against you. You hold your dress up in the front so as not to expose yourself. “I’m sorry for letting Padme flirt with me. I should have put an end to it-- I know it hurt you to watch.”

“It did,” you whisper. “But I’m also sorry. For getting so jealous even though you never accepted her advances, and for making it seem like I was trying to get revenge. It wasn’t my intention.”

A soft “it’s okay” is kissed into your back. His hands grip your waist, turning you in his grasp. He’s looking up at you now, hair mussed up and eyes wary. “You good?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.”

What were you guys doing? At the end of the day, it’s you and him. Padme is out of the picture, and so is Clovis. Everything is alright, and that fuss you both put up throughout the night was virtually pointless.

Looking into his eyes, the ones you love so much and could never picture yourself ever parting from, suddenly this whole thing seems elementary. How terrible, disastrous, and ironic this night turned out. Replaying the events in your head, you find a smile begin to crack at your lips. Anakin can’t keep a straight face either, the ridiculousness of it all beginning to catch up with you both. You begin to laugh, and he follows, burying his head in your stomach as you hug around his neck.

“We must be back in training school,” you giggle, feeling his shoulders shake beneath you. “How pathetic of us.”

“Ahh,” he groans, suddenly wrenching you off your feet and onto the bed on top of him. He nuzzles his face into your neck, pulling you as close to him as possible. “Let’s just forget this night ever happened. It was dreadful and embarrassing.”

“As far as I’m concerned, I was never even here.”

“Me neither,” he presses a line of warm kisses down your neck, stopping at the strap of your dress. “Let’s get this off. Do you still have your blaster on you?”

You pat the metal strapped onto your thigh. “Locked and loaded.”

“Well, gee, thanks for telling me. I definitely didn’t want to get my head blown off.”

“Safety’s on, wisecrack,” you help him shrug your dress off, kicking it from your legs and off the end of the bed. You unclasp the band from around your thigh and distribute the blaster onto the nightstand. 

“I’m the wisecrack,” you don’t miss the way Anakin’s voice deepens, attention suddenly captured by the bare skin of your body beneath him. His eyes follow the path his fingers are tracing up your leg. “Careful, or I’ll have to report that to the Council.”

“For what? Being right?”

“For creating conflict of interest on the job,” his fingers skim the soft flesh of your upper thighs, tickling their way past the curve of your hips, the dip of your waist, up and up and up… “It’s terribly naughty of you.”

His words are teasing and corny, but somehow the deeper insinuation of them still cause your cheeks to burn red. 

“Anakin,” your voice is hoarse, causing your blush to deepen. His long fingers cup your chin, keeping your lips ghost over his as his other hand pulls the silver clasps from your hair. “I need a shower.”

“I can meet you in there?”

You clutch at his shoulders, bringing him forward to close that gap between your lips. His mouth is warm against yours, pliant and soft and generous. It’s everything you’ve been yearning for all night, all this time you’ve been apart. The smell of him, taste of him, feel of him— you could never get enough. 

“I’ll save you a spot.” 

#anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x fem reader #anakin angst #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker fic #jealous anakin #soft anakin #Anakin x fem reader smut #anakin fic

[cheekygreenty]

Little Witch - Part 21

The Darkling x Reader

The atmosphere in the Palace was welcoming and enjoyable yet you couldn't help but dampen the mood of those around you. Your smiles were visible fake, your laughs as forced as the diplomacy of the evening. It was hard to focus on anything but the Queen's request, you could still feel her cold touch on your hands, could still hear her voice as if she was standing next to you. Some would say being in the presence of the Royals was a blessing by the Saints, but to you it was a sudden blight; a curse.

The duties and obligations you had were out the window now as you looked for the particular head of red flame hair, completely ignoring the Kerch ambassador and his slurring words of trade agreements.

Did Genya tell her General that the charming Lantsov Prince was soon to be wed to the Deputy of the Second-army? Or did she keep that part to herself? You had a feeling it was the latter given Aleksander's behavior earlier but what if he knew- What if his obedient spy told him everything and he was looking at your predicament as an opportunity, even though it would hurt you to the core and shatter your moral values. There's nothing he wouldn't do for more power.

'Deputy Y/L/N, I presume?' A man in a military uniform adorned with colorful medals approached you from the side, silently shooeing the Kerch man away and taking his place despite your obvious air of hostility. You were in no mood for diplomacy.

'The one and only.'

'So I have heard.' You could make out the smallest tinge of an accent reminiscent of a Fjerdan rhythm through the spoken words. His blonde hair and long beard tell-tale signs of his druskelle service and enough for your anger to flare. 'Tell me, what kind of Grisha are you?' You didn't miss the disgust dripping from the word as he forced it through his teeth. No doubt he hated himself for being here.

'A powerful one.'

'More powerful than the Sun-Summoner?'

'Much.'

'I won't forget that.'

'I hope you don't. Tell your people too, it'll save me some time and perhaps some lives.'

'Is that a threat Deputy?'

'Yes' He snorted and looked around the lively room.

'Fjerda isn't here to fight tonight, we're here to party. I thought it would be the same for you, no?'

'I don't keep peace with people who wish my kind dead.'

'Neither does your General. But the West, I'm not too sure they're on the same page'

You bit back the urge to smack the tall man stone-cold. The West was a tricky situation that had been playing heavily on your mind for as long as you could remember. Although it was Ravka, Grisha were no longer safe there. Zlatan was coercing with the Fjerdans to capture Grisha in exchange for military backup and as much as it angered you to keep the First-Army General alive, it would create a whole other problem if he was found dead.

'West Ravka is Ravka. All Zlatan is is a mere General of the First-Army. He's no King.'

'You would be surprised. People would listen to a stableboy if he spoke of truth and justice.'

'And would Fjerda back him up too?'

He smirked and gave a nod of his head in amusement at your raging eyes. 'You drüsje get so worked up over words. It's actions that matter.'

'Not here in Ravka. Remember where and what you are. Then think of what half of this room can do to you' Without so much as a goodbye, you walked away from him with a huff and continued looking for Genya. You hadn't even seen Aleksander make an appearance yet but you didn't think you wanted to see him, not after your conversation with the Queen.

We wish for you to marry my son

Every time you thought you had shaken the haunting request, it came back with a shiver up your spine. It went against everything you ever believed in. You hated the crown, the Lantsov line, you hated the Ravka they created. But this didn't feel like something you could reject. It wasn't a proposal, it was an alliance.

You turned your head to the doors and watched as Zoya clambered up the stairs in her stunning blue silk kefta. Behind her, a Suli performer climbed up on her silks as if it were all she'd ever known. Her body swung gracefully and smoothly, not batting an eyelid at all her observers. It was memorizing and distracting, something for which you were thankful.

'Haven't you got some Dukes and Ministers to babysit?' Zoya appeared beside you, eyeing up the empty glass in your hand.

'Let them roam free for the night'

'As long as they're not groveling over me'

'Because your presence is so much more captivating than the Sun-Summoners' You rolled your eyes and made your way to get a new, full, glass.

'Thank you for finally admitting it'

'Where's Genya Saffin?'

She made a face and took a glass to, bringing it up to her lips and taking a small sip.

'With Alina. Why?'

'Oh nothing, just some details to hash out about Marie attending dinner' You covered up. 'I spoke with a Fjerdan dignitary. He had no problem hiding that West Ravka is coming to their aid.' Zoya was a good soldier and a great tactician, if you were to tell anyone such sensitive information, it would definitely be Zoya.

'I overheard a Zemeni ambassador say they were spotted at Zlatan's rallies. He's raising his ranks whilst our own coffers run out. We can't afford a war with each of our borders'

'Try telling the King that' The Lantsov King. Nikolai's father. Nikolai.

'Saints are you alright?' Zoya looked at you with wide eyes, then to the broken glass crumbling in your hand. You had been clutching it so hard you managed to smash it and slice the palm of your hand.

'Oh umm- I need a moment' You disposed of the glass on a nearby table and basically ran to the nearest washroom. Crimson red blood dripped slowly from your fingers as you tried to keep it from staining your kefta while you closed the door behind you.

This was the first moment since your talk with the Queen where you were alone. Truly alone, no ambassador looming over your shoulder or a Duke at your side. Alexander, Alina, and Genya were still nowhere to be seen and the demonstration would begin shortly but all you wanted to do was stay in this tiny and stuffy room, shut off from everything. You washed your hand down with water, hissing in pain as the water tinted red and carried away the signs of injury. The quarters were quiet and calm, a stark contrast to the liveliness in the hall not often seen in the Little Palace.

The Little Palace tended to be quiet, but the Grand Palace was different. The Grand Palace. The winter home of the Lantsovs. Nikolai. Marriage.

The gentle tears came like a surprise, rolling down your face with grace. 'Fuck me' was all you could say as your head rested on your uninjured hand. You still felt exhausted and overwhelmed now even more so but you liked to think you hid it well. What good was a Deputy in emotional turmoil at a party full of political vultures?

The door to the small space suddenly opened and none other than Genya Saffin walked in with ease only she possessed. She looked at you in shame then fixed her attention on her shoes, not meeting your broken gaze.

'I take it you spoke with Tatiana?'

'Why didn't you tell General Kirigan?' You sniffed and wrapped your hand in a handkerchief, not bothering to wipe away the tears that you continued to cry.

'I felt it wasn't my place'

'Why?' Your voice cracked, slightly distracting you but the meaning to your question was obvious. Why me?

'She wished to squelch his bastardry rumors with your standing reputation.'

'Does he know?'

'She wrote him, but he has yet to respond.'

'Why not Vasily? Is it to make sure a Grisha never sits on the throne?'

She stayed quiet, toying with her sleeve. 'She says you have the air of a false Queen but the mind of a demon'

'Nothing new there' You laughed and straightened up, using the handkerchief on your hand to pat your face dry, diminishing any last sign of your weak moment away. 'Is Alina ready?' She looked at you with pure pity on her face, the compassion bursting on her face busting at its seams.

'Yes. Last I saw she was with the General.'

'Thank you Ms.Saffin'

***

You didn't mean to miss the demonstrations, but you took your time walking back to the main hall anyway. It was only when you saw the darkened room and searing light did you stop dead in your tracks at the door. Alina stood there on the podium, the image of a Saint. Her black and gold kefta shimmered in her light beautifully, illuminating her face and smile. She was glowing. Her powers had brought her not only luxurious life but good health, something everyone prays for. The black looked well on her too. It set her apart from the sea of bright keftas and gowns. In a Palace full of Grisha and powerful members of society, only Alina and Aleksander wore the black keftas, not even you wore it tonight and it made you feel surprisingly insecure.

He stood to her side, enthralled by her show of strength and skill. He was fascinated with her, it showed in his eyes and on his face but it definitely wasn't a facade. Even watching them from afar you could see that he looked at her as if she was his Sun, the only thing capable of lighting up his night sky.

You didn't know how to look at her. Everyone around you was worshipping her, whispering silent prayers to Sankta Alina: the Sun Saint, but you stayed frozen and still. You were never faithful to the Saints, they never listened to you, so what good would pledging your allegiance to Alina be if you knew Aleksander planned to extort her?

The whole room was kneeling now, heads bent down in symbols of submission yet you stood. No doubt you stuck out like a sore thumb, but a leader does not bow to anybody, not even the Saints. He momentarily turned his head to look at you but his eyes were far from the softness he gave Alina. They spoke more than his smooth words ever could yet this time the silent exchange did nothing to soothe your muddled head.

A tap on your shoulder caused you to break your burning gaze away from the summoners and to a guard instead.

'Deputy, we have 2 First-Army soldiers who claim to have found Morozova's Stag' The Stag. Just my luck.

'Tell the General, I have no business with the stag' You waved him off and returned your stare back to the room, scanning the crowd like a hawk when her eyes caught yours. Queen Tatiana was looking through to your soul, demolishing any confidence you could muster at that moment.

Marry my son.

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

Part 22

Taglist (tell me if you want to be added to the Little Witch taglist!!) @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @0-artemis @lostysworld @xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @patdsinner33 @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl @exo-1204 @houseofdupree @oberonpascal @eireduchess @lunas1x1 @adoringb @grisha-of-shadow-bone @rosiethefairy @carlywhomever @allisjustok @keepdaydreamingbb @luciadiosa

#shadow and bone #the darkling #imagine #the darkling x reader #ben barnes #grisha #alexander #alexander morozova #alina starkov #fanfic #general kirigan x reader #six of crows

[duuhrayliegh]

Fuck Misogyny

request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs

warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky

a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!

xoxo ray

full m.list

The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.

Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.

Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.

“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.

Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.

Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.

He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.

“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.

“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.

“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.

“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.

“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.

“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”

“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.

“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”

“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.

“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.

“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.

“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.

“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.

“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.

“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.

“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.

“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.

“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.

“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.

“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.

“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.

“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.

“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.

“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.

“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.

“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.

“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.

“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.

“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”

“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.

“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.

“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.

“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.

“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.

“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.

“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.

“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.

“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.

“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.

“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.

“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.

“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.

“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.

“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”

“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”

“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.

“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.

“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.

“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.

“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.

“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.

He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.

#xoxo ray #twenty first century liabilities #request #avengers imagine #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes #marvel fanfiction #marvel imagine #avengers fanfiction #steve rogers #natasha romanoff #tony stark #bruce banner #clint barton #sam wilson #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #james buchanan barnes #james buchanan barnes fanfic #james buchanan barnes fanfiction #seb stan #sebastian stan #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan imagine

[calciumcryptid]

I Have Elected to Ignore Midnight's Death

Polarmare's First Day

It was the first year Kenta would be teaching at U.A. A longtime friend of hers requested to take up the open teaching position, and who was Polarmare going to deny a change of scenery?

Besides, her sister lived in Japan and was elated to know that the Fuyuhito sisters were getting back together so that was the housing situation solved in under five minutes.

U.A. paid good as well which was good for a single mother like Kenta. She adored Seko with all her heart from the first time they met in Japan two years ago when she saved him from prison. Sure the paperwork was a bitch, but Seko loved the opportunity to meet so many different heroes.

So they packed their bags, and headed off to Japan where she was reunited with her sister.

The day after they arrived she made sure her paperwork was sorted by the Hero Safety Commission, then made sure to pick up Seko for her tour at UA.

There she met Nezu, who seemed just as crazy has he had been over the phone and her fellow coworkers.

She took an instant liking to Powerloader and Snipe as they bonded over creating weapons. Vlad King and Ectoplasm seemed chill too, and it was nice to see other dedicated teachers.

Midnight was cheering about another woman on the staff, though seemed to deflate when Kenta snipped her sexual flirting at the bud.

Present Mic was loud, but reminded Kenta of a friend in America so the familiarity was nice.

It was interesting meeting All Might after seeing his last stand on the news, but Kenta hoped they would be able to get along even if he seemed like a bumbling mess half of the time.

Recovery Girl was alright, a bit jaded but it was hard to find a hero so old who wasn't.

Aizawa seemed like someone she needed to keep her eye on, his knee jerk reaction upon learning she was an international hero was hostility while he worked under the impression she was a spotlight hero.

With a swing of her axe, and a clarification of the fact she was a Neighborhood Hero who worked mostly under Rescue and Underground terms, he simmered down real quick.

The General Ed teachers seemed chill, and Kenta hoped she would be able to grab some drinks with them after a long day of work.

Seko loved every one of the them, and was excited by the prospect of their quirks though Kenta made sure to cover his eyes and ears whenever Midnight was in the room.

After final arrangements with Nezu, she was given the dates of the entrance exams. The Fuyuhito family left in good spirits.

The day of the Management Entrance Exam came around, and Kenta came in her formal hero uniform. She took a seat beside Snipe and Powerloader, and was introduced as Polarmare.

Polarmare watched as potential students came in to present one by one, and she made notes. At the end of the day after helping the potential support students present Polarmare was happy with her picks.

It wasn't over though as she spent a while in her new office she looked at each students history, made a few calls, and at the end picked out a good sixty for the first years.

Sixty may seem extreme, but there were many parts of management and business so they wouldn't all be in one class.

She went home to tend to her son, and went to see the sights with her family.

The day of the hero entrance exams arrived, and Polarmare took a seat in the viewing room. She studied the motions of the potential students, their interactions, and was pleasantly surprised to see Nezu took her suggestion of making Rescue Points public and hiding a new type of points known as Cooperation Points.

The big scale robot had been toned down a bit, and at the end Polarmare had a few qualms but didn't have any outward complaints.

Eventually, the first day of the school year came around and Polarmare did her introductory presentation. She explained each branch of management and business, the schedules, and sent them on a tour with Snipe of the business building.

While that occured, she had a meeting with the votes on representatives and outlined what she expected of each of them. She was pleasantly surprised to find them ready to meet the challenge, and was off once again.

She let the students spend the first week exploring the changes she made, and getting used the renovated building. She didn't see the need to challenge them too much considering they were in a new environment.

At the end of the day, Polarmare made her way to the Conference Room and took her place. The first thing she noticed was a lack of Gen Ed teachers present, which concerned her.

Snipe and Powerloader seemed surprised to see her there, and it was Snipe who leaned over.

"The Management teacher usually doesn't come to these meetings as they center primarily around the hero course."

Polarmare took in the words before responding, "Business and Management is a huge part of heroics so I believe I should be present for any meetings regarding the Hero Course."

Snipe nodded, and straightened back up.

After a couple more looks, the rest of the teachers settled down to prepare the meeting.

Nezu got up on his little podium, and smiled. "Welcome to the first hero course meeting of the year. Since we have a new teacher with us this year, I would love to hear her thoughts on how she plans on interacting with the hero course."

"First, may I record the meeting?" Polarmare asked. "I work better if I have audio to listen to afterwards."

A few of the teachers gave each other looks, but Nezu nodded.

Polarmare tapped her recorder before she stood up. "I plan on calling the second year students to the business building to discuss their media presence. With permission from you and their gaurdians, I want to make sure they have profiles set up on Hero Watch. It would be good for them to interact with other heroes, and it will open internship and work study opportunities for them."

Nezu hummed, "Permission granted, you may start as soon as you can."

"Once I get their gaurdains approval," Polarmare resaid with a firm stare. "I shall send out the email tonight, and set up conferences if needed."

Polarmare noticed some of the teachers looking at her in confusion, but she made her notes.

The rest of the teachers went around, and Polarmare made her notes. Admittedly more on their body language then what they have to say.

The last person to talk was Aizawa. He stood up and gathered a couple of papers.

"All of the expulsion forms have been filled out." Aizawa passed them around towards Nezu.

Polarmare slammed down her hand before they could be passed the final length. She turned them over to look through them.

"Polarmare, may I ask what you are doing?" Aizawa asked through gritted teeth.

"You know Eraserhead, this seems quite light for expulsion papers. I see a distinct lack of reference to any evidence or record of you meeting with the student to discuss the expulsion."

"What are you talking about?" Aizawa asked.

"According to the Student Rights, the student should be made aware of their expulsion with any evidence before they are expelled." Polarmare looked over to Aizawa, "I assume this is the first time Nezu has seen these, so I also assume he has been expelling students based on your word without a meeting or evidence."

Aizawa stared Polarmare down, "U.A. does not work on the regular rules schools are legally allowed to abide by."

Polarmare shifted the papers in her hand, "Actually, Student Rights apply to all schools. If this is the case, and you have been expelling like this, it is a miracle you haven't been sued."

"Nezu handles the lawsuits," Snipe said.

"Ah, that explains that. Let me clarify, it is a miracle that someone who outranks you hasn't caught on and sued you." Polarmare adjusted her posture, "Now what is your reasoning?"

"The students show a lack of potential," Aizawa stated matter of factly.

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, and waved her hand. "And?"

"What more is there to say?"

Polarmare sighed deeply. "Tell me Eraserhead, how do you measure a concept as abstract as 'Potential'."

"A series of trials," Aizawa stated.

"Yeah, I saw those trials being performed. I noticed that they are all physical. Are you saying you are measuring potential on how physically experienced your students are?"

Midnight giggled.

Polarmare shot a glare before turning back to Aizawa, "I am going to look through these students and read out loud their quirks."

"This is uneccesary-"

"Marinette, this quirk allows the user to control those with human intelligence or faux human intelligence like robots as though they are simply puppets. Hmm, I don't see how this could apply to something like a grip test or ball throw. Though this could be a way to give heroes confidence or maybe even to control villains. This student sounds like a great Underground or Neighborhood Hero if they so desired.

"That is only-"

"Oh! Gnaw. This one is interesting. This quirk gives the user sharp appendages as long as they are made out of keratin on some level. Can't think of how this would help a sit-up, but imagine there was a super strong net that could be useful. This student sounds like an amazing Rescue Hero if they so desired."

"Two-"

"Slowdown, a quirk that allows the user to slow down anything that is moving. That is amazing on its own, and if they know how to dismantle robots in the time allowed they have to be some sort of mechanical genius! They could go down any hero path they wanted and he so successful. A shame I can't think of how this would help on any trials unless they were sabotaging others. Were they sabotaging others?"

"No," Aizawa said.

"This is a bad trend Eraserhead," Polarmare warned. "Of course if you insist on wanting to expell them, then why don't you allow me work out some private study transfers. I know what, like five? Ten? Twenty? Probably like something hundred pros who are on the waiting list that would love to work with some of these quirks."

Aizawa glared at her.

"Then again why is there such a focus on their quirks? Oh! I know, it is because you don't care how they act if Mineta and Bakugou is anything to go by." Polarmare said. "Don't think I've noticed the large amount of tapes and complaints filled out regarding them."

Polarmare looked up at Aizawa, "I'm just saying there is some good evidence here to create a good quirk discrimination and abuse of power case. Unfortunately for you, I happen to be friends with a lot of lawyers and reporters who don't exactly love UA and would love to get their hands on this information."

"Nezu!" Aizawa shouted.

Nezu who was blankly smiling throughout the whole exchange looked at Aizawa. "What? She has a point, and we can not take another hit like this to our reputation. Polarmare you have permission to disband the expulsions."

"Thank you."

"Oh shit," Present Mic muttered but it was audible due to the complete silence of the room."

"With that, I believe this meeting shall be adjourned. I employ you all to spend some times to reevaluate your students."

Polarmare collected her notes, and looked over the expulsion sheets. She wasn't lying before, she was sure she could find some good mentors for these students depending on what they want to do. She'll have to add those meetings to her calendar. Maybe Seko had some ideas, and her sister would probably snatch up one of th-

Something ling and grey wrapped around her mid section, and she didn't have to turn around to know who it was.

"Eraserhead, what do I owe the pleasure?" She turned her head to see his eyes aflame with red.

"I have been managing my class like this for years, and I do not appreciate you coming in here and dictating what I can and can not do."

"I do not dictate it, the law does." Polarmare sighed as she looked at his eyes. "Cancelling my quirk is useless considering it isn't and offensive quirk," She pointed out.

Aizawa let his capture scarf wrap back around his neck as he blinked. He stared at her with narrowed eyes.

"Bakugou is a perfectly fine student, and I do not see why you brought him up-"

"The boy has a record of telling people to die, I don't care if it is his thing it fucks with your head. Not to mention the physical assault and berating he does, because unlike you I read the complaints."

"The complaints are useless, I judge my students without any prior knowledge."

Polarmare raised an eyebrow, "Does that include background checks because I thought UA prided themselves on those."

Aizawa gritted his teeth.

"If that is all, I need to get home to my family."

#polarmare #bnha writing #bnha fanfic #bnha ocs #bnha business course ocs #bnha management course ocs #aizawa is nezus favorite #aizawa critical #aizawa negative

[michelemoutons]

and at last, the post that maybe three people maximum have been waiting for...

em's comfort retro rally videos: a masterlist!

in a much-needed return to this blog's roots, and as an antidote to all motorsport- and life-related chaos, i now present to you: the first edition of em's favorite retro rally videos!

general disclaimer/info: these videos mainly come from the group B era of the world rally championship (wrc), which generally speaking was in the '80s. i am only human, so expect a lot of bias toward my personal favorites...which will become very apparent as you read this list hehe. also i'm not even gonna pretend to be an expert on this or anything. a lot of these are literally just based on Vibes

table of contents

i. my top 5 rally coverage videos

mainly coverage for television, recorded on VHS and uploaded to YouTube by some truly incredible people

ii. honorable mentions

not rally coverage, but retro rally videos nevertheless

often documentaries, mini-doc features, interviews

for all videos, i have indicated the language (most are in english fyi); if any links fail or videos disappear, send me an ask or DM and i'll remove the culprit/find an alternative link.

and now, onward!

(TW for occasional flash photography in many of the night sequences of the videos, as well as a gif included in this post)

i. my top 5 rally coverage videos

in which my bias toward audi sport, mouton/pons, mikkola, toivonen, and vatanen are put on blast for all to see 🥴 i am not an expert in anything i am just very good at research and a whore for aud—[SNIPED]. for the sake of brevity, i narrowed my favorites down to 5. maybe another time i will share all the rest!

also, a general note about the commentary: sometimes, the commentary around michèle and fabrizia can get... weird. keep in mind, they were the most prominent female team partnership around that time, and the first to nearly clinch a wrc wdc, and to modern ears, the commentators really didn't know how to act around them. personally, it wasn't horrible for me, i just ignored the weirder bits, but i understand if others might find it off-putting. also for the sake of your sanity don't read the comments.

5. Rally of the 1000 Lakes, 1984 | finland

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: vatanen/alén/toivonen (full final results)

comments: this was definitely a rally for most of audi sport's drivers to forget: bar stig blomqvist, who came quite close to the podium finishers with a 4:14:01 to henri toivonen's 4:12:57! both hannu mikkola and michèle mouton had to retire from the race, which may lead you to wonder: why does this rank among my favorites? well, it's always fun to watch group b rally cars sailing through the air against picturesque scenery, and this video also contains an intriguing (at least for me!) look at the scrutineering process, with drivers at their most casual.

owie :( they were fine though!

4. Lombard RAC Rally, 1981 | britain

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: mikkola/vatanen/blomqvist (full final results)

comments: hannu winning by 11 whole minutes even after rolling his car in the middle of the forest is actual legend behavior! anyway this was michèle's first wrc outing in britain, and even though she and fabrizia had to retire, they still did quite well, consistently running high in the leaderboards after the first few stages. and that's considering the fact that michèle had a bad cold for much of the rally and had to ask fabrizia to drive the car to service park for her at one point bc she was so tired. which fabrizia did... with a pencil in her mouth. lot of big names in one video—also, jean todt makes an appearance as a co-driver!

shamelessly poached off of one of my text post edits

3. Marlboro Safari Rally, 1983 | kenya

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: vatanen/mikkola/mouton (full final results)

comments: ok can i just say how stunning the video presentation is?? the opening sequence is just!!! the shots of the wildlife! the sprinting giraffes! wow! anyway the visual of drivers in deck chairs just tickles me for no reason, and michèle please tell me what you ask for at the hairdresser's and also where you got that orange blouse (this is obviously not just specific to this rally, she always eats and leaves no crumbs). this was michèle's first entry and only finish in kenya (and of course it was a podium mwah). it was also her last wrc entry in the A1 quattro, as she switched to the A2 for the rest of her program in the '83 season. also this is one of my favorite podium pictures ever.

lksdjffnnkd there's almost too much to unpack... fabrizia somehow surviving in high waist jeans in a hot car... michèle's do-it-yourself shorts... this podium picture was the subject of a very frantic video chat conversation between myself and a friend at 2am a few months ago

2. Rallye de Portugal, 1982 | portugal

links: short recap (eng) | overall coverage 1, stuck in the middle of two other rallies. timestamps in descrip. (eng) | overall coverage 2, very vibey with cool music (ita... also peep walter röhrl speaking italian)

podium: mouton/eklund/wittmann (full final results)

comments: GOD I LOVE THIS ONE SO MUCH AAAA! michèle's first podium of '82 being a win? this rally being the one where there's footage of her going shopping with fabrizia afterward? (more on that later) them winning by 13 whole minutes? and that's not even considering THEE most poetic victory ceremony of all time! in fact let me talk about that bc the racing and the win aside, that's why it's so high up on my list! literally poetic cinema! it's night, they're standing on top of the car and floodlit and surrounded by cheering crowds but they may as well be the only ones there in their own little world, laughing at each other and barely even having to look to each other when they're raising their hands—like god! shut up! we get it you're besties 😭

i_just_think_theyre_neat.png

and now... last but certainly never least...

1. Lombard RAC Rally, 1982 | britain

link: overall coverage (eng)

podium: mikkola/mouton/toivonen (full final results)

comments: firstly, if you were to ask me about my dream podium, this would be it. hands down, across all series of motorsport, my comfort podium would be hannu, michèle, and henri in any order. (there's such a cute picture of them from this rally on pinterest, standing in order on a staircase. henri is not looking at the camera because he is laughing at something michèle is saying and it's such a Vibe but i cannot find it wah). the battle for second between michèle and henri ran down to literally the last stage, and their times are separated by seconds, which is just wild to me. the context of this rally deserves another post, which i honestly don’t have the energy to make rn, but just take my word for it that it threatens to destroy me if i think about it too hard! anyway this is just such an awesome rally and i’ve watched this video so many times haha

i love this rally so much that i actually had a character in a story i was writing attend the ceremony captured in this picture as a small child and made it a formative moment in her life. no, there is nothing wrong with me.

ii. honorable mentions

(is it obvious who my faves are? yikes)

'Group B - Avec Michele Mouton' (eng) - taken from a longer feature presentation about group b, a segment specifically about michèle. a friend once described its vibes as ‘a synth wave edit of an 80s anime set in a cyberpunk world about racing’

'1983 Audi Sport National Rally with Michele Mouton' (eng) - in which michèle takes journalist sue baker as a co-driver for a spin in an A1 and a rally win. fun behind-the-scenes video

'Intervista a Fabrizia Pons, la Regina delle Note' 1, 2, 3 (ita) - very thorough interview which is mostly fabrizia telling all sorts of stories, including the very entertaining story of how she found out she was going to be michèle’s co-driver. also what a badass title

'2008 Otago International Classic Rally' (eng) - THE BESTIES REUNITE THE BESTIES REUNITE!!! michèle and fabrizia reunite for a rally that fabrizia convinced michèle to join, they suffer some problems but there are plenty of wholesome bestie moments to be had

'Michele Mouton hurls Group B Audi Quattro up Goodwood hill' (eng) - i mean, self explanatory. the sound of the chirping tires? asmr could never. very short watch if you want a quick pick-me-up

'1990 Louise Aitken-Walker feature' (eng) - a video featuring a female rally driver from scotland and her point-scoring run at the rallye monte -carlo. i am convinced that louise was john finnemore’s inspiration or at least an influence for the character of linda fairbairn. no my hat is not made of tin foil what are you talking about

hannu rocketing around michigan back in 2017 (eng)

hannu flying around goodwood in 2015 (eng)

sometimes i listen to fabrizia's recent onboards (yes, she's still at it!) and this one is one of my favorites, from 2016 (ita)