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its-avalon-08 · 19 days

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so seb and y/n broke up after 2011, super messy break up, alot of tears, and they have never spoken after that. she switched jobs into mercedes. he has a panic attack and is gasping for breath and keeps asking for y/n. y/n comes running and seb breaks down sobbing. note the date is the same as the day they broke up. he confesses that he messed up and is so sorry. Thanks! love ur blog <333333333333333333

🍂🍂🍂🍂 one of my fav 🍂🍂🍂🍂

breathe baby breathe (sv5)

The air in the Red Bull garage hung heavy. The tension wasn't new - ever since 2010, ever since the spectacularly messy break-up that left a trail of shattered trophies and tear-stained pit walls, Seb and Y/N existed in an uneasy parallel universe within the F1 circus. He, a stoic German with haunted blue eyes, remained with Red Bull. She, a steely Brit with a heart encased in ice, had taken a high-profile switch to Mercedes.

Qualifying had been a disaster for Seb. A gearbox issue had left him stranded on track, his championship dreams spiraling down like a flaming meteor. Now, back in the garage, a cold sweat slicked his palms. His vision swam, the faces of mechanics blurring into an incomprehensible mess. His chest tightened, a cold vice squeezing the air from his lungs. He tried to take a breath, but it came out in a ragged gasp.

Panic clawed its way up his throat. This wasn't right. This wasn't just disappointment. His heart hammered a frantic tattoo against his ribs, each beat a deafening boom in his head. The air, thick with the smell of burnt rubber and ozone, offered no solace. He fumbled for his water bottle, the plastic slick with sweat in his trembling hand.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. He stumbled back, his vision going dark at the edges. A primal fear, a terror he hadn't felt since he was a child lost in the supermarket, seized him. A strangled cry escaped his lips – not a word, just a raw sound of terror.

Mark Webber, ever the teammate, noticed Seb's distress first. "Seb! You alright?" The concern in Mark's voice barely penetrated the fog of panic muddling Seb's thoughts. He needed Y/N. It was a nonsensical thought, a desperate plea from a drowning man clutching at a straw. But it was the only lifeline he could grasp.

"Y/N," he rasped, his voice a pathetic croak. Mark's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The name had never passed Seb's lips in all these years. But right now, reason had abandoned him.

Mark didn't hesitate. He knew the history, the bitter fallout, but in this moment, all he saw was a teammate in distress. "Y/N!" he bellowed, his voice cracking through the tense silence of the garage.

Y/N was huddled in the Mercedes garage, dissecting the telemetry data from Lewis's qualifying run. The news of Seb's car trouble had filtered through, a bittersweet pang twisting in her gut. She'd long buried the ghost of their relationship, or so she thought.

Mark's urgent yell shattered her focus. "Y/N!" It echoed through the corridor, laced with a raw panic that sent a jolt through her. Memories, both bitter and sweet, flooded her mind. Ignoring the bewildered stares of her colleagues, she surged towards Red Bull's garage, a primal fear urging her forward.

The sight that greeted her ripped the carefully constructed wall around her heart clean open. Seb, usually the epitome of stoicism, was a crumpled mess on the floor. His face, drained of color, was contorted in fear, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His normally steely blue eyes were wide and frantic, searching for something, someone.

The past dissolved. This wasn't about their break-up, not anymore. This was about a human being in distress. Ignoring the initial shock, she dropped to her knees beside him, her professional training kicking in. "Seb, hey, focus on me," she said, her voice firm but gentle. He didn't respond, his gaze flitting around the room like a trapped animal.

Panic threatened to engulf her again, but she forced it down. Taking a deep breath, she mirrored it, holding his hand and speaking slowly, deliberately. "breathe baby breathe for me Seb. In with me, slow and steady." He flinched at the touch of her hand, a flicker of recognition crossing his face, then quickly masked by raw fear.

He tried, or rather, his body tried. His breaths came in shallow gasps, each one a struggle. Seeing his plight, she knelt closer, gently pushing a stray strand of hair off his damp forehead. It was a simple gesture, born of instinct, and it seemed to anchor him.

"That's it," she murmured, her voice a soothing balm. "Slow breaths. You're alright, Seb. You're with me." As the words left her lips, a strangled sob ripped through him, shaking his entire frame. Tears welled in his eyes, threatening to spill, but he squeezed his eyes shut, a desperate attempt to hold them back.

Y/N's heart ached. The sight of his vulnerability shattered the years of built-up resentment. Without a thought, she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. His trembling body crumpled against hers, the final dam breaking. Sob after wracking sob escaped his lips, raw and unfiltered.

He didn't care if she saw. In that moment, all he needed was a human anchor, a safe harbor in the storm of his panic. And for the first time in years, Y/N felt the familiar pull of protectiveness surge through her. The past was still there, a shadow lurking at the edges, but right now, all that mattered was calming the storm raging within him.

The tremors in Seb's body gradually subsided, his sobs muffled against her shoulder. His grip on her arms tightened, a silent plea for comfort. Y/N held him close, stroking his hair with a gentleness that surprised even her. The scent of his familiar racing cologne, a mix of leather and adrenaline, flooded her senses, a potent reminder of a past she couldn't fully outrun.

"Y/N," he finally rasped, his voice hoarse. Shame laced each word, a stark contrast to the bravado he usually wore. "I miss you. So damn much." The words hung heavy in the air, a confession ripped bare by his vulnerability.

A lump formed in Y/N's throat. Part of her wanted to pull away, to retreat back into the icy fortress she'd built around her heart. But the raw pain in his voice, the vulnerability etched on his face, held her captive.

"You messed up, Seb," she said, her voice barely a whisper. It wasn't a question, but a simple statement, a truth they both acknowledged.

He flinched, a choked sob escaping his lips. "I know. I know, and I regret it every damn day. Even my parents yell about it. They keep saying I threw away the best thing that ever happened to me." His voice cracked, raw with self-loathing.

Y/N's breath hitched. She knew his parents adored her, a stark contrast to the strained relationship he had with his father at the time. The revelation stung, a reminder of what they'd lost.

A hesitant breath escaped her lips. "Seb," she started, unsure how to proceed.

He cut her off, a tremor running through his voice. "And the worst part? Even after all this time... I still love you, Y/N. Madly." He confessed the words in a rush, as if afraid to hold them back any longer.

Silence descended upon them, thick and heavy with unspoken emotions. Then, a soft, surprised sound escaped Y/N's lips.

"You still...?" She couldn't finish the question, the weight of his confession settling on her chest.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes searching hers, a desperate plea for a flicker of reciprocation. "Every damn day," he whispered. "Even now, on our monthaversaries, I still go get your favorite pad thai."

The admission, a small, vulnerable detail from a past they both cherished, cracked the ice around Y/N's heart.

A wry smile tugged at the corner of Y/N's lips, a flicker of disbelief coloring her voice. "Pad thai, huh? You never did learn to like that."

Seb chuckled, a wet, shaky sound. "No, I never did. But seeing you devour it with that look of pure joy... it was worth every forced bite." His gaze softened, lingering on her face for a beat too long.

The weight of his words, laced with a longing that mirrored her own, threatened to unravel the careful control she'd maintained. Taking a deep breath, she confessed, "You know, I used to stalk your social media, Seb. Every model the tabloids linked you with, I'd dissect their pictures online, a jealous wreck." Shame burned in her cheeks as she admitted the truth.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You... you did?"

"Don't judge," she countered, a hint of defiance lacing her voice. "We both have things we regret."

He shook his head, his expression softening. "Never. You were the best thing that ever happened to me, even if I was a colossal idiot back then."

Y/N couldn't help but let out a small laugh, the sound surprisingly warm. "Maybe a little," she conceded. "But even after switching teams, a part of me still wants you to win every race, Seb. It's a terrible conflict of interest, I know."

He squeezed her hand, a flicker of hope lighting up his eyes. "Really?"

"Don't get cocky," she teased, a playful glint returning to her eyes. "But seeing you on that podium, the pure joy on your face... it's hard to explain."

A comfortable silence settled between them, a stark contrast to the storm that had raged just moments before. Then, a mischievous thought struck Y/N.

"Speaking of confessions," she began, a sly smile playing on her lips. "Remember those chocolate chip cookies Mark always seems to have a stash of during race weekends?"

Seb's eyebrows shot up, a flicker of recognition dawning on his face. "Wait, you...?"

"Guilty as charged," she admitted with a sheepish grin. "I figured you still loved them, even after all these years."

Seb's lips curved into a genuine smile, the first one she'd seen in far too long. "You have no idea," he confessed, his voice thick with emotion. "They were... a ray of sunshine on some pretty dark days."

Their eyes met, a spark of something new igniting in the space between them. The past, with all its baggage, still loomed, but for the first time, they weren't facing it alone.

two days later

Two days had passed since their tearful encounter in the Red Bull garage. The air crackled with unspoken emotions, a constant undercurrent in the sterile environment of the Formula One paddock. Y/N sat hunched over her laptop in the Mercedes motorhome, the glow of the screen illuminating the dark circles under her eyes. Sleep had been a distant dream, replaced by the whirring of her mind replaying every stolen glance, every hesitant touch with Seb.

A soft knock startled her from her thoughts. Wiping the fatigue from her eyes, she called out, "Come in."

The door creaked open, revealing a sheepish Seb holding a familiar white paper bag. His hair was slightly disheveled, and there was a nervous twitch at the corner of his mouth.

"Hey," he mumbled, stepping inside hesitantly.

"Seb? What are you doing here?" Y/N asked, her voice laced with surprise.

He held up the bag, a small, hopeful smile playing on his lips. "Pad thai. Your favorite. I, uh, thought maybe you could use a break from all that data?"

A wave of warmth washed over Y/N. "You remembered," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the bag.

"How could I forget?" he replied, his voice softer than she'd heard in years. "It's become more than just a dish, Y/N. It's a reminder of everything we were, everything I messed up."

He took a tentative step closer, his eyes searching hers. The vulnerability in his gaze tugged at her heartstrings.

"Look," he continued, his voice thick with emotion, "I know this is crazy, showing up here unannounced after everything. But I can't stay silent anymore. These past few days have been torture. The thought of you... of losing you again..." He trailed off, his voice choked with emotion.

"Seb," Y/N started, her own voice trembling.

He held up a hand, silencing her. "No, let me finish. These past years have been a living hell without you. Every race win felt hollow, every victory parade a painful reminder of what I'd thrown away. My parents were right, you know. You were the best thing that ever happened to me."

He took another step closer, the air crackling with unspoken emotions between them. "Y/N," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "I love you. I never stopped. And if there's even a sliver of a chance, I want you back. I want to rebuild what we had, stronger this time."

Tears welled up in Y/N's eyes, blurring his image. She couldn't take his beautiful monologue any longer. With a strangled cry, she launched herself at him, her arms wrapping around his neck. The pad thai forgotten, they fell into a desperate embrace.

"Seb," she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. "I love you, I love you, I love you," the words tumbling out in a breathless rush.

He held her tighter, the sound of her choked sobs a balm to his tortured soul. "Never letting you go again," he murmured against her hair, his voice thick with a promise they both desperately wanted to keep.

In the heart of the bustling Formula One paddock, amidst the roar of engines and the relentless pursuit of victory, they found solace in each other's arms. The road ahead wouldn't be easy, but for the first time in years, they weren't facing it alone. They had each other, a second chance at a love that had weathered the storm and emerged stronger, more resilient than ever before.

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valkubusqueen · 2 years

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Avatrice S1 and S2 Parallels

requested by Anon

#warrior nun #warriornunedit #avatrice #avatriceedit #ava silva #sister beatrice #mine #gifset #warriornun*#im not totally happy with this tbh #oh well #hope u like it anon

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lavenderknivess · 9 days

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Can we please talk about how much Eloise and Cressida parallel Polin in Season 3? I feel like that doesn't get talked about enough.

Like even in the scene in Episode 4 when the Bridgertons arrive at the library, the camera focuses on Colin noticing Penelope at the same time Eloise notices Cressida and goes to her.

Oh my goodness YES! especially interesting given this season’s trope is friends to lovers.

Also I’ve noticed we have eloise giving cressida tips on how to woo debling, and the “call out” scenes (Cressida calling out eloise and penelope calling out colin).

Also I don’t know if this was an intentional choice but it’s neat how we have eloise going from “i’d rather die” (than be friends with cressida) in s2 to whatever they have going on, and for colin going from “i would never dream of courting penelope featherington” to the carriage scene. Many thoughts.

I truly hope we get the cressida/eloise dynamic explored more and the writers don’t just discard it to make it easier for eloise and pen to make up (although i hope eloise and pen do reconcile because i adore them both)

#good ask anon!#ava answers #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #eloise bridgerton #cressida cowper #creloise #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #polin

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fairweathermyth · 18 days

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I'm depressed, and I don't want to talk to you, so I'm leaving. Well, too bad. I'm not talking to you either.

HACKS 3.04 Join the Club requested by anonymous

#tvedit #hacksedit #hacks #hbo hacks #ava daniels #deborah vance #request #anonymous #made by carolyn #happy birthday anon!#(idk when your bday is but this is for your bday)

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littledata · 6 months

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There have always been rumours. People see lights in the windows of the rotting old convent, movement where there should be none. The locals whisper about vampires, blood curdling screams in the dead of night, a nun who should have died two hundred years ago.

Ava Silva doesn't believe in any of that bullshit, obviously. What she does believe in is having a roof over her head out of the rain and a place to sleep that cops aren't likely to come poking around in. When she steps through the doors of Cat's Cradle, she expects to find nothing more than a crumbling old ruin.

Instead, she encounters a polite English tour guide who refers to herself as a "member of the church".

Beatrice is sure a stern reminder that this is private property will be enough to deter the trespasser - it always has been in the past, after all. Instead, Ava Silva insists on asking questions and looking around. For the first time in over a century, Beatrice finds herself having a real conversation.

It would be easier to deal with, she thinks, if only she weren't so hungry.

#warrior nun #Avatrice #Ava Silva #sister beatrice #Shout out to the anon who put vampire au in my head weeks ago #Extra writing

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daisychainsandbowties · 9 months

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what is it about that season one shoulder pat you love so much??

i have a bit of a fascination with what i call character thesis moments. they’re… these sort of pivotal, revealing scenes or even just (as in this case) a gesture that makes me fall head-over-heels for a character. and also understand them.

with ava, it was the beach run scene. for lilith, the grey hoodie scene where she asks ava “can you forgive me?” for mary it was the first scene, cradling shannon’s head and shutting her eyes and the love in every inch of every gesture. (that’s the first sign i think that warrior nun is a story about love, and survival, and in not surviving but loving anyway).

now, i’ll admit that i adored beatrice from “i thought she’d be a handful” and “faith is my business” but frankly… neither of those scenes show us who she is. i think the closest we get to HER is at the bus stop, where you watch her choose her friends over her duty, choose love over sacrifice (for the first, but not the last time).

and then… god, that shoulder slap. i can’t explain how it made me feel.

up until that point, beatrice is such a whirlwind of a character. she’s lethal, she faces down a gun with frightening disregard for her own life. she drops a tear onto shannon’s cheek as she gasps out a very rehearsed goodbye. she catches ava when she slips out of that wall, she cries over an old journal and in all that time she’s fighting so hard to remain unseen.

and then, in one gesture, she reveals who she is. if you look closely, you see how fiercely beatrice fights to hold herself, but especially her hands, in check. they are either weapons or they’re things she lets out with the greatest care. they are caring but also tentative, like moths desperately trying not to touch the flame.

if you look carefully you also see that beatrice can’t help but touch ava. she tries and tries, but then they’re in the vatican and she’s suddenly this young, smiling creature trading puns, rushing through a cloud of dust to pry ava from the wreckage of her faith, from the arms of an angel. i just think, when i saw that shoulder slap i realised how much there was to beatrice.

she’s this… ball of contradictions. she’s a nun, she came up with Cruella de Jesus. she’s faithful, she’s queer, she’s resigned to the death of everyone she loves. she’s a weapon, and yet… you look at her doing that slightly goofy shoulder slap and it betrays a sense of ‘i want to touch you and i don’t know what to do about it.’ and in that you realise that she’s everything you thought and she’s also… mischievous? slightly boyish? a fool who is already more than half in love.

i remember feeling so fond of her, so suddenly, because out of the clear blue you realise that she’s drawn to this, to this girl who told her not to hate what she is, not to hate what she craves which is touch… a certain something she doesn’t dare to name, but still she reaches out and THAT is beatrice to me.

she’s a pair of empty hands, a bottle of lightning, and for all her confidence, for all that she is undeniably so cool and calm under pressure, so absolutely lethal; she’s also young, and she doesn’t know what to do about what she feels. it terrifies her, fascinates her, makes her hands move almost of their own accord.

there is ava, who is the point around which she is supposed to rally. halobearer, holy, doomed. that little pat in the shoulder… when i take it from ava’s perspective i’m in awe, because they don’t quite understand each other yet. it’s a candleflame to the incandescence of their kiss but it’s the first time bea reaches out not to catch her, or capture her, or carry her, but simply to touch.

it’s a very blunt and beautiful reassurance and that’s what they are to each other; they’re comfort, safety, acceptance. and that throwaway moment to me is the thesis of bea’s character arc. it’s the choosing to touch, to reach out, to hold onto what she loves.

and for ava it’s sacred too. how many times in her life do you imagine she’s been touched the way beatrice touches her? the way she balances ava’s jaw in her hands when she falls from the wall, smiling at her like she’s a miracle. beatrice who is the voice in the dark and the cold, who tears down a wall to reach her because she promised and she kept it. touch is everything to ava, and i think there’s just something so special about that moment; beatrice just saying, wordlessly, ‘you’re good, you’re here, i’ve got your back.’ it’s not condescending it’s a gesture that i think demonstrates to ava that she’s not alone anymore, and it kindles the hope that she never will be again.

#warrior nun #avatrice #sister beatrice #ava silva #it’s just! special and silly and important to me i’m sorry i know this is mostly incoherent #anon

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flareboi · 3 months

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as my last dying wish can you draw paleo/primal . plspls

kisses u on the forehead. you can rest now anon

#rip anon #everyone say f #ava #my art #ava paleo #ava primal #not my best work it was done in the middle of class. dont look at me #art req

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sweetsndreams · 24 days

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A young woman with glasses and pigtails greets the baker with a small smile "Evening, Charlotte. How's Business?" - 📘(Ava)

🍪: "Oh Ava! It's wonderful to see you again! Everything has been going swell on my side dear!"

- Charlotte gave a kind smile before turning to Ava and offering the tray of freshly made cookies

🍪: "Oh- before I forget; Would you like one? This batch of cookies are fresh out of the oven!"

((Part 1))

((part 2))

#thats not my neighbor #tnmn oc #charlotte dutch #pastry chef #my art #tnmn #francis mosses #milkman #can this be considered a selfship?#Francis just likes her smile i promise--#oc x canon #📘Ava #anon ask #oc rp #ask the characters #🍪#🥛

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moonfil · 9 months

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(based of @/tulipsempai's thing with Jeremy anon)

#this image has been living in my head rent free for two weeks now #this is just what i always imagine then i see that “eyes” anon xx #Jeremy my beloved #tulipsempai #alan becker #art #avm #ava #sorry for kinda inside joke #(i was kinda forced to post this lmao)

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falcqns · 2 years

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do you know how to get rar file mods to work? they don’t show up in my game😩

hey love!! as far as i know, they’re like zip files and have to be extracted! idk what computer you have but i have a mac and i use the unarchiver! it’s free on the app store and works amazing! the first time you unzip the rar file it’ll have you select where you want the extracted files to go so just click Documents > Electronic Arts > The Sims 4 > Mods and hit extract and it will work!

#ava’s anons #ava plays the sims 4

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its-avalon-08 · 29 days

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

my proudest accomplishment (nh27)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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

🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️🏎️

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