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bitchimasnake-sss · 1 day

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hi! could i request some luffy fluff? i love how you write his dialogue, so maybe some pet names he would use? 🌸🦋

you have put an idea into my head that'll be very hard to get rid of @kingofthe-egirls hehe. the fic starts off as a crack!fic but i'll make it sweety-sweet towards the end!

the worst mistake ft. monkey d. luffy!

set-up: my headcanons based on what lovely @kingofthe-egirls asked! just our captain luffy and his absurd fucking nick-names.

warning: wholesome! more of a crack!fic (i dont know if its even remotely fluffy im sorry) than anything else. i do love me some good, self-indulgent stupid with my fav man on the sea :)

💗mistakes are a normal part of life. as bob ross said, "there are no mistakes, just happy accidents." well, he had clearly never made this catastrophic mistake. you had jokingly called luffy "bugaboo". emphasis on jokingly. 💗the sun was setting and you both were sitting on his bed, recalling the time zoro got lost and accidentally stumbled into a river-stream where local women were bathing. and afterwards how sanji wailed when he realized he wasn't there to witness it. your crew was weird, there was no doubt about it. but that wasn't the focus of the conversation. "heh" he snorted, "what did you call me?" "bugaboo?" you laughed, poking his cheek teasingly, "why?" he looked at you with his wide-eyed, honeyed gaze, "what does it mean? am i a bug?" with his wide eyes and stretchy smile, one might say so. but you didn't tell him that.

"its means... nothing?" you smiled softly, tracing your finger on the scar 'neath his eye, "it's just a nickname, baby. just something said out of affection." "out of affection?" he looked at your confused, "so anything can be a pet name?" you nodded in agreement, "pretty much, luff." worst fucking mistake of your life. 💗it was past dinner. and you and the captain were about to fall asleep to the noise of the crew chattering outside. "hey?" luffy hummed. and you hummed back in acknowledgement. "rice cooker." he mumbled into your chest, "you smell so nice~" you choked on your breath, spluttering, "lu-luff? did you just complement the rice cooker??" "no?" he looked up at you, bringing his finger to boop you on your nose, "i mean you. you, rice cooker. you smell so good, is it the soap sanji brought from that isla—" but you weren't listening to him. was he insulting you?? was he saying you were built like a rice cooker???? was he asking you to make him some rice, hence, you were the "rice cooker"?????? "luffy," you looked at him, concerned, "what do you mean rice cooker?!" "what?" he laughed, "it's a pet name. you said that a pet name can be anything?" when you stared at him, still concerned, he explained himself, "i mean like... i like you, i like rice cooker. cause it cooks rice—" "—go to sleep, luffy."

💗you had to clear it to him the next morning that nicknames cannot be that absurd. and when he asked you what qualifies as a nice pet-name, you tried really hard to think of some. "oooh, you like food right?" his eyes twinkled up at the mere mention of the topic. you grinned, satisfied, "so, like honey, sugar, pie, cherry. these are all examples of good pet names." he nodded at you with conviction in his eyes, as if he truly got you now. 💗it was lunch time now. and after beating up a marine ship, the entire crew was waiting for sanji to finish cooking so you could all stuff down some food. you were next to robin, sun-bathing and chatting ideally about a book she had lent you. she made a joke about how the character was dumb and you nodded and laughed along. in the midst of it, your boyfriend came and stood next to you, "hey?" both you and robin looked at the captain. you gave him a welcoming smile, "what's up, babe?" "so..." he looked over robin for a second before looking back at you. "i was just saying that i love you very much, my bombocado." his bombo- what? but before you could inquire him, he giggled and ran away. what??? and you resorted to look at robin, a bit confused. she replied back easily, "it's a brazilian dessert." is it now?

💗"what do you mean?" the captain looked at you confused when you told him bombocado wasn't a great pet name. "then, what else is a good nickname?" "i dunno." you sighed, "something normal like cherry or something." but that had opened yet another pandora's box. because now every time he saw you, he would refer to you as some fruit: "hey there, banana~" "i love you, my java plum." "should we go out on a date, pineapple?" "you look so pretty, my dragon fruit." a pause, "hey. my dad's name is dragon!!" you had given up on the idea of pet names. you would rather be addressed by your government given name than a pinecone. but now you were stuck with these absurd names. how wonderful. (but, i mean it was luffy who was saying them, so, you didn't exactly mind too much but when the entire crew caught on. boy the humiliation, the drama.). 💗but then one day, before drifting off to sleep, he slowly whispered, "i love you, cupcake." you almost jumped up in victory. almost. but instead, you chose to pet his hair softly and kiss him on his forehead, "good night, muffin." "—i love muffin." you kissed his forehead again as his hair tickled your skin, "ofcourse you do. goodnight, baby." "goodnight, honey nuts." just give up on ever having a normal nick name. i'm sorry. it won't happen.

💗jokes aside, here's my actual list of names that i think luffy would call you: 1. peach (cause you're sweet (in more ways than one) and because you once told him it meant ass and he laughed for 15 mins cause peach means ass) 2. mama (idk, sounds good to me? sounds like something he would just go along with) 3. lovebug (he once heard sanji say it and he thought it was so cute cause if hes a bug and you're a bug then you both together can be a bug-couple) 4. mi amor (heard sanji say it, thought it was pretty) 5. hot stuff (ussop convinced him that's what he calls kaya and kaya loves it) 6. sunshine (because you're his sunshine, what's not clicking??) 7. angel (because you're an angel, again, where's the confusion??) well, at the end of the day it doesn't matter what he called you. what mattered was that, you could come collapse in his arms. and he would squeeze his arms around you and tell you how he loved you. what were a few corny petnames to endure if you got all of his love in return?

a/n: i am convinced this is simultaneously the best and worst thing i've ever written. i hope it was atleast mildly satisfying @kingofthe-egirls <3

#one piece #opla #op #monkey d luffy #luffy x reader #luffy fluff #one piece fluff #op fluff #luffy fic #luffy fanfic #luffy imagine #op x reader #monkey d luffy x reader

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certified-bi · 2 days

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The Apology

More thoughts now that the apology is out.

The response time is being praised by some fans. I say it was shit. You do not release this big of announcement and then log off for the weekend. Not after hyping it up, not after doing the countdown, and definitely not before a live show. They are a business and as others have pointed out, not responding to Variety and not putting out a simple "We will have a response soon, thank you for your feedback and patience," was highly unprofessional. Others have made better posts outlining how PR is supposed to work and I expect companies with more than ten people to have a PR expert on payroll(one who has actually been in the field and has a relevant degree) and if not that's a problem when social media is pivotal to your brand.

They should have stayed off personal social media. This includes family and friends. I have seen a lot of screenshots and some accusations of things said by them(and their loved ones) and all of it was tone deaf. Yes people should not be harassing anyone. That doesn't mean it's a good idea to only respond to the out of line comments. It makes people think that criticisms are being conflated with the people who are out of line. Again this isn't a moral thing, it's a PR thing. If you aren't making a public statement as a company, don't make snide comments online.

Unaddressed things. Two things in specific bug me about the apology. The fact that they didn't address that they took in community stories right before this clearly shows they were expecting backlash. They only care now because it's majority of the audience giving said backlash. The other thing that went unaddressed is that they clearly need business help and they haven't said clearly that they are looking to reorganize how they use staff, and their different revenue streams. In the post items 4 and 5 still apply. They have not show that they've put thought into cost reducing measures or improving the user experience on their YouTube page. When/if the streaming site fails to help fix financial problems there's a good chance they'll make another bad decision. Overall it was fine. It didn't convince me to resubscribe. It took too long for it to come out, and honestly I don't think they addressed the underlying issues that caused this bad decision. It should have never made it to the public. It should have been shot down sooner. We shall see what happens.

#watcher

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sicklymuttz · 2 days

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um hi so I drew jeremy

and as I was drawing I was brainstorming so much lore

so basically, here a thing i came up with for Jeremy and how it pertains to my au I have with infected and unpleasant

Okay so basically... I had the idea of Jeremy coming from a video game, similar to how Infected and Unpleasant are technically now game characters in Roblox. He's from an old arcade game, a save the princess type of story, I'm thinkin. And Jeremy was the hero you played as that saved the princess! However, after years of being around, Jeremy's game soon fell out of style, since Arcade games were as well. The company that made him kinda forgot about him and left him to rot while they made other games.

Which is what caused Jeremy to go rogue. See, he didn't want to just be forgotten, instead, he made sure he was gonna thrive, with or without that damn video game. He wanted revenge. So, he escaped. He materialized into the real world, and was gonna make it everyone else's problem. Pissed off and angry that he wasn't popular anymore, he stormed off and killed anyone who tried to wrong him. See, Infected cant be outside of his computer for very long, and the same goes for Jeremy. The longer he remained outside of his game, the more he bugged out he got and the more he lost control of himself.

He convinced himself that he was still the hero of the story. He had to be. He was only doing what was right by killing the people who deserved it. Jeremy is the hero, dammit, he's the one who's gonna save the fucking day.

But with a mind so clouded in revenge and hatred, and a bug infesting his coding, there was no sign of the hero Jeremy used to be.

OOPSIE! sorry i got all serious there, promise it won't happen again!!!

I really want to incorporate unpleasant and Jeremy being exes as well, but with how my lore is set up, it would be a little difficult... I'll figure something out, I promise!!!! I already have kind of an idea and if I ever get it fully sorted out, I'll be sure to share

ANYWAY if you made it this far don't forget to SMASH that like button, HIT subscribe and TURN ON that bell! stay tuned for another autistic ass rambling, and if you're still here, THANKS FOR READING SO FAR!!!! okay bye now :3

#art #jeremy regretevator #regretevator #regretevator fanart #jeremy headcanons #i really like this stupid cube actually #ill be sure to think up more stuff i prommy #you jeremy freaks dont worry your pretty little heads #stay tuned

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laylajeffany · 1 day

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targeted ad ii - microfic

saw these on insta - ya'll might already know they exist sorry i'm old but they are for Wednesday and Enid for sure, so have a tiny scene of Enid convincing her moody lil gf to wear them

“You’ve already managed to convince me to join you in a cabin that doesn’t double as a hideout for family members running from federal agents. On the first full day of this trip, I’ve eaten your sugary version of breakfast, listened to your KPop morning stretch routine playlist, and now you expect me to wear matching clothes? I already wore a snood with you to hunt a monster.”

Enid wiggled her shoulders, holding a tie-dyed canvas tone in her hands with her bottom lip curled out. “Yeah, and you let it get all torn up! Come on, Wednesday – it’s practically a tradition!”

“This is our first time traveling together. The only tradition we’ll have is going to be you waking up breathing each day after the insufferable teenage whimsy you have me entertaining on this so-called vacation.”

“Okay, not so much a tradition, but it’s like, a thing that couples do together! At least all the ones on Instagram do it when they travel!”

Wednesday opened her own suitcase, a vintage piece assembled with fine leather. Whatever low-quality, polyester excuse for ‘fabric’ that Enid had likely ordered from a sweatshop was not going on her body. “Good news, I’m not on Instagram; you don’t have to worry about meeting vapidly set expectations of social media on my behalf.”

“But I got them special for us, so that we could still be coordinating and you could keep your aesthetics up, even though there would be no one here to see it. And I promise, I won’t post it on my stories or anything, I’d just…maybe hope that you’ll let Thing take a Polaroid of us for our cute little collection of pics on the string lights...”

Once Enid was full-blown pouting, Wednesday gave her a glance after taking out her organic, linen, hand-dyed pants that were stitched by the family seamstress and sighed. “What garment-factory-fire-waiting-to-happen clothing have you obtained?”

Enid scoffed as she reached into her bag. “I’d think the idea of a factory fire would be exciting to you.”

“I support exploiting people for their stupidity, not their labor,” Wednesday muttered and crossed her arms as she watched Enid pull out sweatshirts. One as an offensive baby pink and the other was black.

Matching? Hardly.

“These are from a small business I saw on that social-media-app you hate so much -”

“Did you fall for targeted advertising again? Enid, we’ve discussed the need to more strictly adjust your privacy settings so that your personality can’t be packaged and sold to you-”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, breach of data – Russian bots, we’ve been through this. Anyway, this is a cute, women-owned online shop, not from some planet-killing application. I thought that these were particularly appropriate for us, and actually match this exact moment we’re in, right now.”

She turned them around, and Wednesday almost let out a puff of air in amusement, though she managed to conceal it before it could escape.

On the black sweatshirt was a pink heart, with a little spiderweb motif around it and the phrase ‘might bite,’ while the pink one had the same style, but the script read instead, ‘might cry.’

“Fitting,” Wednesday finally decided.

“Let’s see if they fit us!” She cheered, pulling the bright colored pastel top over her head and giggling, approaching Wednesday bravely, tugging the neck hole over her braids.

“Enid, it has pink.”

“Like, three inches of it on top! We’re alone in the woods, no one can see you. And I’ve got Benadryl for bug bites, if you break out in hives from your ‘color allergy.’”

Wednesday let out a long sigh through her nose as Enid actually took her arms one at a time and weaseled them inside the sleeves of the crewneck. She stared straight ahead, unfortunately – the maneuver long had lost the effect of unnerving Enid.

“Eek! You look so cute.” Enid tugged her over to the mirror on the back of the door of the log-built lake house they’d rented for spring break (a place for her to wolf out during that night’s full moon and for Wednesday to have plenty of target practice with a variety of weapons she’d packed). “I mean, intimidating – of course, not cute. Never cute.” She let out a series of bubbly laughs yet again, hooking an arm over Wednesday, who stared at their reflection.

It was a bit chilly that morning – but certainly not cold enough for the jacket she’d packed in case the weather was uncooperative…

“I will wear this for exactly the twenty minutes it will take us to walk to the lake.”

Enid squeaked and kissed her cheek, squeezing their matching sweatshirts together in a hug before pulling back and admiring their attire again, rubbing up and down Wednesday’s back mindlessly as she stared in the mirror. “We look adorable. I mean, deadly. We look very deadly in these.”

“You’re going to be dead if you don’t take your hands off my black and pink sweatshirt,” Wednesday clarified.

“Oh, please. You love it when I touch you,” Enid teased and Wednesday nearly wrinkled her nose at how much that was true. “What, are you going to prove that true and bite me if I don’t stop?”

“You wish,” Wednesday retorted, working very hard on keeping her eyes from rolling all the way back when Thing managed to capture the moment with Enid’s instant camera as she’d hoped. Enid let go and brought her arms up in a victory pose before milling around and gathering entirely too many unnecessary supplies for their morning hike while Wednesday watched her intensely in the mirror. She would admit – she liked the oversized top, and how it fell over her hands and went mid-length down her thighs. Adding her more usual pair of pants to go with it, she laced up her boots and waited as Enid debated between tinted lip balm. “The mosquitoes are going to find you delicious no matter what color your lips are.”

“It has SPF in it! Very necessary,” She said, putting some on herself when she finally picked one, then approached Wednesday, taking her by the back of her head and putting it on her as well. The fountain of positive thinking and insane levels of bravery that was her girlfriend shocked her into allowing it. Even more boldly, she followed it up with a kiss to those tinted lips that Wednesday almost returned. “Now you can leave a cute little lip imprint when you bite me,” She winked.

Tugging her close, Wednesday wrapped her black-clad sleeves around her pink middle, tucking her cheek against the plush fabric. In a move indicating surrender, she muttered, “This sweatshirt is adequately warm.”

“I knew you’d like it,” Enid kissed the top of her head, giving her a long embrace in return.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You don’t have to. And even if you’re just entertaining me,” She pulled back to look her in the eye. “Thank you. Now come on, you getting all affectionate on me might make me cry happy tears if we don’t get moving!”

Black Menagerie update is late because real life is sometimes better than fanfiction | purchase a sweatshirt for you and your moody gf here

#wednesday addams is whipped #wednesday 2022 #fanfic #wenclair #layla's >5k challenge #ghoulbabe #written in a supply closet at work and unbeta'd forgive

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0bianidalas · 20 hours

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“𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐳𝐞”

2.8K, explicit, post China Sprint

Read on AO3 or bellow the cut

He’s still fuming even when the roar of all engines has shut off. Absurd move, and for what? Fucking out of the podium and pole again. He yanks the balaclava as he seizes the ‘55’ of the garage, each step he’s taken has slowly made the anger subside but still sits in his gut like lava.

Everyone turns to him with their eyes wide and unblinking and Charles breathes. So, they’re waiting for a scene. A screaming match or maybe blows but it’s not the stuff he and Carlos are made of— apparently. He bites his tongue in his mouth when Carlos comes, eyes deep and gone.

“What the fuck was that?” Charles repeats himself, but his tone is far lighter than he intended it.

“Not right now, okay?”

And just like that, he flips the switch. Just like that, Charles’ fire dies and he thinks anyway. He thinks whatever. He thinks good riddance.

Because it’s always been like this with Carlos. Always half-measures and stolen glances and mixed messages and never enough. He should’ve known better than to hope their last year would’ve been different.

If anything, this might just prove to be the worst one yet.

By the time he’s done with the media circus, smiling in the absurdity of his frustrations, he’s ran out of fuel to keep him fired up, and when Carlos approaches him –fucking finally– he’s only greeted with a tired, heavy sigh. “I have to speak to the stewards because of the shit with Alonso, listen—if I was too aggressive—”

Charles taps his chest and through the layers of fabric, he can still feel the heat coming off Carlos, the steady pumping of his heart and the hard carcass that surrounds it. “It doesn't matter. I've been there, too, haven't I?” he relents and it's pathetic. He knows.

But Carlos squeezes his fingers and looks at him puzzled, as he's often done lately. Half-here, half-somewhere else. One foot out, Charles remembers.

And he doesn't say anything else before he disappears from his grip again, Charles also doesn't stick around to listen.

Instead, he replays the sprint idly in his mind after he's showered, revisiting all the missed twists and turns and convincing himself that his fight with Carlos didn't fuck up his chances for a podium. Maybe it did, maybe it didn't. What counts is tomorrow, anyway.

But then a flash and he's pushed out of the track like nothing but a bug and his head is spinning and it's a hundred degrees but his gut is boiling with more than just that. His heart is racing for more than just racing. Fucking see me, I'm right here.

I'm yours to push and shove.

He doesn't have to open his eyes and look down to know what he knows already. His shaft's hardening as he lies and overthinks, great. It's not the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track, it's not even the first time he's gotten hard after a fight on track with Carlos. But it'd been a while, and it'd been a while since the race, too.

He bites his lower lip and eyes his problem. His cock is nestled only somewhat uncomfortably inside his briefs. He could leave it there, he's only halfway into hardness. But then it's also just 10 p.m. in Shanghai so he's got a few more hours to kill before he's ready to rest. Social media seems like a good idea for a minute until he watches one too many videos of the race and his minor issue goes right to considerable.

It's starting to itch, the fabric. But when he moves his hips a little bit the constriction provides friction and Charles' interest is piqued, then. Fine, he'll stoop lower. It's one sprint video that leads to interviews with bullshit excuses that make Charles lose himself in brown eyes like he's done for the last three and some years that then lead him to a myriad of Sainz footage and he's gone.

And Charles could call him up, could get the whole actual show. But Charles was weak enough already to turn down his apologies when Charles very much deserved them, Charles was weak enough already to just let him fucking push him over, he'd been weak enough lately.

This was still weak, of course. But it was at least between him and God. Did he mention he was the bigger man earlier already?

He throws the phone to his side when Carlos' smile begins spinning in his head after three or so photos. It always took so much of his face, but Charles noted that it didn't matter because his laugh was contagious. A lot of aspects of Carlos were like that, could make you feel whatever he wanted in just a flick.

Charles palms himself, just a press of the heel of his hand to his bulge and he breathes heavily. Inhaling deep as his teeth trap his lower lip. He turns over and pushes a pillow between his legs, just to keep the pressure subsided.

Except that Carlos' fingers earlier linger on his, in his mind, and Charles eyes his hand like it's foreign to his body. He's washed off, it's been hours already; there's no trace of Carlos' smell or his heat at Charles' fingertips but it doesn't hurt to imagine. It doesn't hurt to rub himself softly, index finger moving from his clavicle to his chest to his navel until Charles breathes heavily again before he pushes down the briefs and ends the charade that he's wishing this away. He squeezes the pillow harder between his legs to keep his cock from flinching at the cold of the dead darkness of his room. The nearly dead emptiness of the life he carries. And his finger draws faint circles on his body again. Aimless, odd-shaped figures across his arm and his torso and his shoulder just like Carlos would. Touch and graze him like Charles was made of the most precious marble.

And kiss him. Carlos would kiss him breathless. Would kiss him like his life depended on it, would kiss him like he'd fight him on track. Like he did today.

This is all that I've got— can you take it?

Charles bucks into the messy lump he'd already made of the pillow as a yes echoes in his head, chanting, nearly. Yes, I can fucking take it. You want to fight me harder than the rest? I'll meet you halfway there. I'm no coward. Crash into me if that's how bad you want it. We'll give them a bloody show.

He grunts when his tip grazes the silky fabric of the pillow just slightly enough to sting and he comes to think that maybe he ought to just get on with it and use his hand, instead, but the rough friction is good. The rough friction reminds him of calloused, big hands, tanner than his. Musky smells and hairy wrists that always manage to twist right how Charles needs. It's unbearable, really. How perfectly they piece together.

And now Carlos wants to fight me.

All because they have left us in these ruins.

It's not my fault they didn't pick him.

He whimpers as his rhythm picks up, back arched as he's shifted to topple the pillow that's now under his belly. He no longer worries about the cold because his many efforts now got him glistening in sweat and panting, just like he was inside the car earlier.

Riled up because of Carlos fucking Sainz, albeit in two entirely different ways. Or were they? Wasn't their predicament the entire cornerstone of Charles' current frustrations?

They couldn't love each other, they could never love each other. They couldn't even have each other, because they didn't have a say in that.

And they couldn't hate each other, either. They couldn't go at each other's throats.

Well, at least that's what I thought. But he didn't give a shit about that, did he? Maybe that could mean…

“Merde,” he moans when he starts rocking his hips easier because he's started leaking. The moist spot he's made gets slicker with each roll of his hips and soon he just thrusting wantonly into the misshapen lump.

He supports himself a little on his elbows on the mattress, back arched just enough to make room for him to thrust back in, and so he repeats in a frenzy dance. He imagines himself squeezed into nothingness like the pillow, and bucks harder, relentless. Carlos wouldn't lose the pace, not at least until the very– very end. But he wasn't Carlos. He was only the mess Carlos had made of him, whimpering and moaning into his mattress and about to come untouched like a fucking teenager.

I bet he's smiling. I bet this is what he's wanted all along. To see me lose my damn mind like this.

He curses and he can nearly taste the bleach they used to clean the sheets; his tongue dries in the cotton as he lets go of the fabric, and adjusts himself a little. Legs a little spread, this time just pressing on his knees and he moves his hips in circles. Charles breathes at the slight change of pace but his mind provides more reasons to keep him going. Flashes of Carlos meaty lips dropping wet kisses all over his back before he claimed him, the way his bushy eyelashes would flicker before he came, mouth slacking in a soundless ‘o’ that Charles always needed to stick his tongue into.

Carlos' breathy laugh and silly jokes and big hands, crowding all of him both in public and private. Did he even know? How easily can I be undone under his fingers? He picked up his pace again as frustration started filling him once more.

“Charles?”

Yes, he'd fucking say. Sharl all soft like nothing's ever been wrong in the world. Like they're not caught up in the shittiest situation. Like Charles isn't absolutely dreading the end of the season. Like Charles doesn't lo–

He freezes when a hand wraps around his nape and Charles feels like an exposed wire, ready to electrocute. But the hand holding him knows him all too well, and it is as firm as it is tender. So Charles breathes and leans back into it.

“Vai avanti,” Carlos whispers in his ear and Charles wants to kick him out, kind of. He also wants to turn around and kiss the living daylights out of him.

It's always a bit complicated after a race, anyway. Carlos is the one he has to beat all the time, no matter what, but he also needs to have Carlos do good.

And they can't fight, so they don't fight. They make love instead, which is its own kind of fight, if you ask Charles.

He moves slowly — slower than he was a second ago— and the hand at his neck is so hot suddenly the pillow is too cold and rigid and Charles is no longer interested in it. He twists his face to see him, but the room is pitch black and the angle isn't right anyway.

“Carlos…” he whispers. It's not a plea, he wouldn't call it that. He's still got some dignity left in him.

But Carlos answers like he's made to answer, and Charles reflects on how bad he's been to him for the last two or so hours, until he reflects that he's in fact been soft. They both have.

“Shh, keep going. I got you,” Carlos says, and the hand around his neck rolls down his spine slowly to sneak under and wrap around him and Charles moans louder this time because it's what he's wanted the whole fucking day, since that stupid stunt he pulled.

Touch me the way it fucking matters.

“Venga, amore,” he prompts again, in the weird mix of Spanish and Italian he can muster, just towering over Charles somehow. Here and there and all around and Charles is dizzy in lust and something as intoxicating. He pushes himself up, pressed fleshed against Carlos, who's still gripping him loose and Charles knows this is what he'll give him this time. Just this, not more.

You get one piece of me this time. You'll never have me whole.

Charles loves a good challenge.

But he wasn't aiming to win this particular battle, so Charles just moves against the hand holding him firmly, Carlos rubbing his thumb on his tip so the precum would make the grip pleasant while Charles lost himself to the sensations and soon he was bucking erratically into Carlos' fist before spilling his release all over it.

Carlos supports him through the wakes of his climax, holding him to his chest as he stands just right near the edge of the bed, dropping soundful kisses on Charles' shoulders that make him shudder while he's still coming down from his high, Carlos still milking him through.

After the lights have stopped sparkling, Charles finally looks up at him. “I’ve been texting you,” Carlos says at the side of his face, but he sounds amused.

Charles half shrugs, before turning around fully, arms thrown over Carlos' shoulders. “I've been busy.”

“Clearly.” Carlos' right hand is sticky on his hip.

“How did you get in here?” Charles inquires, after he finally gains some clarity.

“Asked Nicolas for a spare key. Told him that if he's gonna tell the media you and I kiss then he might as well help me give it a shot,” Carlos says but there's a trace of amusement in his tone.

Charles still frowns. “Seriously?”

“‘Seriously’ did I ask him for the key or ‘seriously’ did he tell the press we kiss on the mouth?”

Charles rolls his eyes because he didn't really care that much about the answer. The world wasn't burning, so, who cared if his manager joked on international TV about something that may not be a joke? Who cared if Carlos outed them to his manager in response?

He leans forward slowly and drops a kiss on Carlos' lips only to realize he still smells like gas and sweat and tastes like their energy drinks. “Are you still dirty from the race?” Charles blurts, almost absentmindedly.

Carlos slaps his cheek in response and it makes a slick sound cause it's still covered in cum. “You're one to talk about being dirty.”

He chuckles, head falling on Carlos shoulder and trying not to giggle too much but the embarrassment is slowly getting to him. When he stretches his neck again, big brown eyes are looking up to him like he hangs the moon every night.

It's hard to imagine this is the same Carlos that would force him out of the track. The same Carlos that will fight tooth and nails this year to prove Ferrari that they should've chosen him instead of Charles. But, then again, they were all different people once the lights went off.

Charles could never begrudge him.

“Wanna take a bath with me?” he offers. “You can do your hair routine on me so I can have amazing hair after a race like you do,” Charles adds, playfully.

“Anything for Lord Perceval,” Carlos jokes in the same nature.

“You know it isn't personal, right?” Carlos asks after they sit in the tub for a while. His fingertips are drawing circles on his scalp and Charles lives, however long this moment lasts, in a world where none of that matters.

For this fleeting, miniscule moment, he's just having a bubble bath with the most beautiful man he's ever been near.

“I know.” Does he wish it was? Does he wish Carlos wasn't lying?

“It's not easy, though. It's not what you and I are used to,” Charles says, honest, too. Carlos is the longest teammate he's ever had so comparisons are dull. But, still…

Carlos stares at him unblinking as he does, and his eyes sparkle with sadness and wonder alike. It's a weird mixture that only Carlos can pull off, Charles reckons. “I'm afraid we're heading into territory that's gonna have us outside of what we're used to, amor.”

Was it a threat or just a bad omen?

“I can't say I won't be aggressive again for the rest of the season. You know why this one is more important than most to me, Charles— but… but I can promise that I'll come back to you still after. And we'll sort it out.”

The corner of Charles' mouth draws up as he looks at him. Yes, he knows. Ever since Carlos joined him, three years and so ago, Charles has known.

The only place Carlos would ever serve him is the bedroom and the only way Carlos would ever be gentle with him is like this.

#charlos #f1 rpf #my shitty writing #anyway. im sorry for my transgressions its Charles' fault for leaving his radio on

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smaller-comfort · 1 day

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So how do you imagine snail love darts and necrontyr working/combining? Cause I am interested~

Aksjdhsk ahahaha oh god okay here we go

(Tumblr crashed on me three times while I tried to write this, but I will not let that stop me from rambling at length about snail sex, speculative xenobiology, and various ways that necrontyr get to be fucked up little guys.)

Okay, now snails: they use the darts during courtship to deliver hormones that increase the likelihood of fertilizing their partner's eggs; after the several-hours-long mating dance, they'll exchange spermatophores. (Fun fact, the penis, copulatory canal, and dart sac are all located inside the genital pore, on the snail's head. Mating dances can involve a lot of biting.) Snails have bad aim, but it's not uncommon for both snails to end up getting stabbed during courtship.

Okay. Some assumptions/general thoughts: necrontyr do not have "dual-use" reproductive/waste elimination systems (inferred from Trazyn's hilarious disgust at the idea, but honestly it would be entirely believable for him to have completely lost any and all memories of necrontyr biology). Most higher order animals do (they're efficient!), but you start to see ones that don't when you get down to bugs and marine creatures, so that's what kicked off this train of thought.

I'm assuming also there is relatively little sexual dimorphism among necrontyr (not for any particular reason, although my understanding is that actual female necrons are a relatively new thing in wh40k lore, so that fits). And finally, everyone constantly dying of turbo cancer has led to a 'throw everything but the kitchen sink at it' evolutionary approach to reproductive strategies.

"Copulatory canal" is a deeply unsexy phrase, btw. So are most words we use when talking about sex, unfortunately. *sigh*

Okay, so, love darts. Pretty much only ever used by nobles/the military, because in the upper classes of society, sex isn't about reproduction, it's about reinforcing social hierarchies. And necrontyr social hierarchies tend to be inherently about violence in one way or another. Sexual dominance is generally more about who gets stabbed with the dart than it is about which penis is going where. (That's still a factor, but it's secondary, since genital configurations/functionality can be a bit of a wildcard.) Snails take an egalitarian approach to sex; necrontyr categorically do not. Both parties consenting to be darted would be considered weird and perverted.

Anyway. While many necrontyr do only have one set of functional reproductive organs by the time they reach adulthood (either because the other set was always vestigial or because it gets removed to reduce the spread of cancer), both sets are usually present in some fashion. Sterility would be fairly common, but medical technology is able to mitigate some of that; the lower classes, at least, need to be able to breed like rabbits to feed the war machine. Gender is mostly divorced from reproductive role by the time biotransference happens; in addition to male and female, there would have been at least one other normative gender, possibly two (to account for both null and multimodal genders). Gender fluidity would have been common and largely unremarkable for necrontyr. (It's still largely unremarkable for necrons, but it's not particularly common; they're mostly fixed with whatever gender they had at biotransference.)

The dart sac would be located in their mouths, under the tongue; it's meant to be ejected into the soft tissue of the mouth, but it's sharp enough to pierce the skin anywhere. (This does mean kissing can be Complicated, or at least somewhat subversive, depending on everyone's social standing.) Normally it gets broken down and absorbed by the recipient's body; pulling one out tends to be extremely uncomfortable/painful.

Kind of going off ancient greek/roman sexual mores here; it would be entirely unthinkable, for example, for Obyron to be the penetrative partner in either sense with Zahndrekh. (Then again, Zahndrekh is a shameless pervert.) Sex between two social equals is generally accompanied by an agreement- sometimes tacit, sometimes explicit- about not using the darts. Doing so would be an overt act of aggression. Often, to prevent any potential misunderstandings, they'll voluntarily empty their dart sacs ahead of time.

Forcing someone to empty their dart sac prior to sex is a pretty common form of sexual humiliation. When done voluntarily, it's a sign of submission or respect. (Darts usually have a refractory period of a few days, depending on the person's overall health. Single-chambered dart sacs are typical, but multiples aren't unheard of. Leads to occasional 'surprise! You thought I was submitting to you but now you're getting fucked instead' situations.)

The exact cocktail of hormones and neurochemicals it injects the other person with would vary somewhat between individuals, but can potentially vary widely between dynasties or social classes due to genetic/geographic/cultural differences. Some might include a mild paralytic agent; some sort of euphoric effect is also common. (This is all in addition to the original function, which, uh. Is to make the recipient more likely to get pregnant.) The shape of the dart varies in a similar fashion, ranging from a straight, smooth bone spike to something more elaborate with barbs or fluting.

(A bloody mouth can signify a lot of things to necrontyr- in addition to violence or illness, it's also inherently erotic. Necrons who remember this try very, very hard not to think about it when confronted with Flayed Ones.)

(Yenekh: *very sexily smearing his mouth with blood and draping himself all over Oltyx*

Crypteks have their own social hierarchies within their conclaves, but they're usually not as concerned with sexual politics as nobles and the military tend to be. Most people believe that crypteks all lace their love darts with poison, and the crypteks don't try to discourage that assumption. Some of them probably do, tbh.

Oltyx: *oblivious, can't stop thinking about how pretty Yenekh is*

The rest of the flayed ones: *still not sure why their king and his consort haven't fucked nasty in a pile of carrion yet. Maybe they need a bigger pile of carrion? Yes, that's probably it. They will take care of this for their beloved king.*)

Necrons, of course, don't have genitalia, but they can still stab each other with love dart analogues- this ranges from things like executive buffer override packages sent via interstitial channel, to actually physically jamming a spike of necrodermis into a neural input node. (From a purely aesthetic/romantic standpoint I also like the idea of love darts constructed out of crystallized core flux. The first time Zahndrekh does that to Obyron he goes into complete cascade failure and takes several hours to reboot.)

If Orikan and Trazyn did have sex pre-biotransference, one of them would have darted the other without permission (probably accidentally, being that they are both intensely nerdy losers and thus Bad At Sex by necrontyr standards), setting off a sixty-five million year hate-sex feud that neither of them can even remember the origin of. Orikan would've gone after Trazyn's mouth with a pair of pliers at some point; joke's on him, Trazyn's into that.

(Trazyn does have a collection of necrontyr love darts in the archives- all of them ones he collected personally when he was alive. He has no absolutely no memory of slutting it up back in the day, though, and probably doesn't even realize what they are. Sannet, unfortunately, does remember, and wishes he didn't. He has had to put up with so, so much over the years.)

#nattering #warhams #well i have now officially thought about this Too Much ahahaha #this is what i get for trying to be funny; now everything's gotten slightly out of hand #am i even going to use any of these ideas? who knows. they are free to a good home

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sophiethewitch1 · 1 day

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Hey! I just wanted to say that I love the WWW series so much that I've literally read it like 4 times over. SO! I have several questions + observations about it that have been bugging me a little, if you don’t mind answering + talking about them.

Everyone’s ages are something that I've been curious about. I know that it’s stated that Damian and the Reader-insert are 3 years apart in age, 19 and 21 respectively. I’m assuming that they’re more like 2 1/2 years apart based on the ages we’ve been given.

Do they follow canon ages? For example, is Tim still around 7 years older than Damian???

Because i’m picturing the lineup looking something like this:

Bruce: 47

Dick: 33

Jason: 28

Tim: 26

Reader-insert: 21

Damian: 19

I was just curious because picturing everyone’s relative age is something that is really important to me when regarding the dynamics between characters.

Another thing that I noticed was how in the Reader-insert’s original reality/world, her entire family died on the same day that Jason did. (“Your lives had both technically ended the same day, in the same grand calamity.”). Does that remain the same in this new world?

Because that would mean that the Reader-insert’s counterpart would have known Jason at some point, which I think is SUPER interesting. Lots of implications.

That’s supported by something that Tim says in his 1st pov: “Your family had died, Bruce’s new wife had died, and all the siblings he never really got the opportunity to meet, gone in a brilliant flash.”

THAT has a few implications that I think are really interesting. It supports the idea that her family did die on the same day in this reality, and that she would have known and been living with Jason at the time (Well, before his death.)

Tim would have most likely only seen them at galas or something similar by that time…leading to his statement about how he “never really got the opportunity to meet” them.

This would mean that Jason knew her counterpart when the Reader-insert met him for the first time.

Now, going off of all of those assumptions, I can only begin to guess what her and Dicks relationship was like before her family's death. I picture it like this:

Dick had only left the manor around 3 years TOPS before Bruce had remarried, bringing a whole nother family into the fold. Now, we don’t know too much about Dick in this story yet, (I'm SO excited to see more of him in the next chapter BTW) but I can assume that this would feel pretty upsetting. Leaving your home, and your adoptive? father only for him to marry into a whole new family not long after?

I’d be pretty bitter if it was me in his situation. I wouldn’t really want to have any kind of relationship with the new children he had taken in. MEANING that Dick and the counterpart didn’t have too much of a relationship before her family's death.

And between their death and Jason’s, Dick would probably consider the counterpart as some kind of chance to actually build a relationship with his siblings in the light of what he lost. Obviously, the counterpart didn’t appreciate the attempt.

Uhhh there’s probably a lot more that I'm forgetting to mention, but I think the way you write is super compelling, and the Reader-Insert has been the only one that I’ve ever read that I can relate to so well!

So TYSM for writing, it literally makes my day!! 🩷🩷🩷🫂🫂🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

(And I’m really bad at conveying my tone in text, so if I seem overly critical or anything then I’m really sorry!!! I don’t mean it like that!!!)

Sorry this took so long to answer I have been in sickly victorian woman mode. I'll answer these questions to the best that I can, but also I don't have everything planned and even if I did I regularly forget shit if I don't write it down <3 <3

First of all the ages- I aged both the younger Waynes up and the older ones down a bit, because I'm personally not into the super huge age gaps but also. Imagine them however you want, even if they come up later in continuity still just insert your personal preferences if you want. Like it really doesn't matter lmao they're relationship has bigger issues than the age gaps. Anyway here are how I had them written down but I might change my mind I am a fluid being

Reader: 21, Damian: 19, Tim: 22, Jason: 25, Dick: 29, Bruce: 45, Alfred: 67, Molly: Also 21, Cass: 25, Stephanie: 23, Barbara: 30, Duke: 20

Also yes, reader's family died the exact same day in both universes, and first world reader like... knew about the waynes but wasn't particularly interested in them till their own family was ripped away, then she started obsessing. in second world, reader and the batfam were like... sort of involved? she lived with them, and she was getting to know them, but wouldn't you be kind of weirded out if your mum married like. jeff bezos or something. and reader is sort of introvert coded, even if they don't read that way. it's just because she's trying so hard not to be, because she's so starved for attention. other world reader like,,, didn't seem to react the same way to what happened to her. but she might've, in the newest chapter it seems like she was talking to bruce after the disaster, and then stopped. But yeah you're right they never knew each other because not much effort was made to do so, and the Waynes are always SUPER busy.

Also about the Dick thing, he was actually pretty happy about the new family! But like you said he still didn't know other reader till the disaster. He just didn't have time to get to know her. He was obviously very upset with Bruce because he left to fuck off to Bludhaven for a while, but he's always loved how the Wayne family kept growing. Even when it was just him Jason, Babs and the weird kid who followed them around with a camera. Then he like decided he was going to treat her like a project because he has a savior complex that comes out especially so when he's having a hard time (oh damn my brothers dead). Not your best moment Dickie. I mean other reader definitely did need help but... as if she'd accept it from a guy like Dick. Imagine your entire family dies and you have to deal with the most beautiful guy on earth trying to comfort you while you look like a creature that crawled out of the sewers. And he tries to make you go outside because you're genuinely very mentally sick. I'd kill him tbh. Anyway this is all still technically up in the air and I might go back and edit the fic later because I'm like... very bad at timelines I just can never remember them properly which creates a lot of issues and inconsistencies.

Anyways thank you for sending in your questions/theories and enjoying my work so much! I'm glad you can relate to reader so well, she's like, one of the strangest characters I've ever written who refuses to behave in any concrete mannerisms because she's stubborn and has intimacy issues. But I think we're all a little bit like that lmao. And thank YOU for reading my stuff, I wouldn't still be doing it if it weren't for folks like you :P (also also you didn't come across as critical at all, you were very polite!!!)

#sophie speaks #sophie answers #series:www #archetype0venus #tw long post #also i know what ur thinking: sophie are you writing #no i am not but i am listening to the www playlist and daydreaming which is like. sort of writing #i write like ten thousand rambling tags and then delete them because i remember they have absolutely nothing to do with this post #theres nothing in my brain nothing at all

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titisorriso · 8 hours

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This is O'Malley. O'Malley got shot in the head and ever since then hasn't been acting like the most sane person. Even so, somehow they still manage to have an irresistible charm that makes everyone do what she wants with a few words. Has no ability with energy weapons but uses them frequently and badly. Boone has been following her for a while and is convinced she is some kind of undercover super spy pretending to be dumb and eager to help. Rex just likes to eat bugs.

The Fallout series made me want to replay my favorite fallout game. Just like back then, i have no idea how to properly spec a character so i made a silver tongue useless sniper that doesn't snipe.

#do not look at the guns #no theyre not wrong #what do you mean thats not how theyre shaped #haha youre so crazy #fanart #fandom #fallout #fallout new vegas #fallout courier #craig boone #courier 6 #courier six #digital art #my art #art #fallout rex #rex new vegas

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sourscratched · 4 months

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play it by ear s2 scribbling

#my art #play it by ear #i have no idea what the falconers outfits are supposed to be #i think i was intending to use a historical reference but then zoned out when i actually started drawing oops #that one baseball song is still in my head #🎵another great question boss man are there bugs on the field🎵#my interpretation of shortcake stack packaging is that it has a pop tab and you peel back the top like it’s a can of tuna #i feel bad i didn’t get a little bit for each ep this time around but ill get to it. sometime

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glouris · 1 year

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never let them know your next move

#god I love that you can do that #god of war #god of war ragnarok #heimdall #atreus #our time in asgard was cut short #you have no idea how much i want more of this keeping up with the kardashians type deal #still want to know what he needs so much cheese for #hope he's lactose intolerant #i liked heimdall the best out of the new characters can you tell #i just noticed that my game bugged out and there's no one else in the room but them #they couldnt handle the fifth outburst of pure drama of the day #coudnt be me tho

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confusedgeckotree · 2 months

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I had a thought (this does not happen very often)

But I've been listening to the Mechanisms on repeat and consuming a lot of related content and GUYS. WE KEEP DRAWING OCTOKITTENS LOOKING CUTE RIGHT

What I want to see is disturbingly realistic octokittens that are just genuinely cats with 8 legs and no tail and they're horrific and mutated and like, awful I want them to be awful. help I can't draw these mfs myself my art style Would Not Agree with me

#The mechanisms #The mechs #octokittens #Please just. I need my freaky lookin octokittens pls #Like give them no real octopus features just. 8 cat legs #Little bug things even #Creatures..#And the mechs just call them octokittens because none of them have seen a real octopus before #Brain thoughts #Still don't even know how to tag #No idea what I'm doing over here in my corner

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cordycepsbian · 6 months

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"we're probably not going to draw our ideas for this because a lot of other people have done this crossover and we have too many crossover aus already" and yet, only three days later,

#bug fables #hollow knight #bf leif #bf vi #bf kabbu #bf chompy #stuff i made tag #we mentioned vessel vi earlier so we just. had to draw her #she still has a boomerang so when she gets the dreamnail upgrade it could be the... dreamerang #(we are booed off the stage)#kabbu is partly based on ogrim because they're both scarabs #chompers are just mobile fool eaters so of course that's what chompy is #leif is very normal. being constantly melting is typical for moths #we will stop talking here but if you want to know more about our ideas for this just send us an ask #because we do have old worldbuilding from thinking about this some time in the past

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bookiedoodles · 2 years

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Sweeties making sweets! 🍪

#the owl house #toh #huntlow #Willow park #Hunter toh #Toh hunter #the golden guard #hunter the golden guard #the owl house fanart #huntlow art huntlow art huntlow art!!!#I’ll be real #it took all of me not to draw Gus in this LOLLLL #i love Gus 🥺🥺#but I’ve been wanting to draw just huntlow SO BADLY #so I did!!#but it’s okay cause I can still insert Gus #cause they’re making cookies for him 😌#they have no idea what they’re doing btw 😌😌😌#doodle bug

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haaam-guuuurl · 6 months

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Little Women Amy x Laurie Ballet Modern AU

The March sisters grew up tripping over dance bags and discarded ballet slippers. Piano music and counts of eight were the soundtrack of their childhoods, ever since Meg first joined the ballet class at their local dance studio, every sister following her soon after. Careful Meg, spirited Jo, delicate Beth, and artful Amy all found their place along that barre, different tempers and styles united by effort and a love of dance.

Ballet brought them closer, brought them friends - most notably Theodore Laurence, Jo's partner and best friend - and even brought them their futures. All of them incredibly talented and dedicated, it was no surprise when the four sisters each found their way in the world of ballet.

Meg surprised everyone when, though gifted enough to pursue a profissional dancing career, she settled into a teaching position at the studio they'd all attended, happy to instead pursue what had captured her heart from the very beginning. None shocked more than Jo, however, who got as far as being offered a contract from a prestigious ballet company, but turned it down and turned away from dancing all together, pivoting into academics and other passions, seeking to make her own mark in the world. Beth remained in the studio, but fell in love with the music instead of the steps, finding an inclination for the piano in the corner of the room, and a talent for it unmatched among her artistic possibilities. It was only the youngest, Amy, who'd dreamed of becoming a prima ballerina since first stepping foot in a ballet class, that followed those dreams all the way to her place at a professional ballet company.

Though they'd all loved it, Amy was the one who'd wanted it, wanted it all, had ambition for it beyond the passion. She didn't only want to dance - she wanted to be great. That ambition carried her through her apprenticeship, through the corps, through being one of many and feeling like she'd never be good enough to stand out, all the way through to one of the coveted soloist positions. At last, a chance to be seen, to be exceptional! A chance she wasn't going to give up that easily, not even when she was cast opposite Theodore Laurence for the company's production of Firebird.

Laurie had been the closest friend of the March sisters, once. And though he'd cared for them all, Jo was definitely his favorite. She was his partner, his best friend, his beloved. And when she'd abandoned dance, she'd left him too. He'd envisioned them working side by side forever, spending their lives together. But that wasn't what Jo saw. It wasn't what she wanted. Though they'd always fit together so well, they couldn't understand each other in this, not really. So, Jo went on, and Laurie did too, signing with the furthest company that would have him, determined to forget all about Jo, and about their childhood.

Amy and Laurie had not seen each other for years. They'd gone on to different companies, in different cities, and only now, by chance, did they find themselves in the same place, Amy just promoted, and Laurie just hired. Though she was still new and eager to prove herself, he'd been a soloist at his previous company for some time, had grown comfortable and complacent in his position. The two had been pleased to see each other again after so long, if not also surprised, and it could've been fair to assume they would've worked perfectly well together, if not for that difference in their careers and dispositions.

Dancing Katerina, Amy was working hard every day to be great, yet also constantly feeling the sting of second best. Laurie's attitude was no help, either. As Ivan, he had a principal role and every advantage and talent one could have, but he seemed intent on wasting it, going through the motions every rehearsal and putting in only the bare minimum in his performance. He had lost his passion for dancing, carrying on mostly out of habit and duty, but he hadn't felt the same ever since Jo left. And Amy, in his arms, couldn't help but feel like a poor substitute.

The pair had been friends for years, before. Even clashing during rehearsals, they did get along well now, managed to become closer than before and have fun together. But this wasn't something they could move past. Amy finally had enough of it. She couldn't bear to see Laurie waste it all like this, throw away everything he had, while she was fighting for every opportunity. He wouldn't work with her, and he wouldn't work for himself. She came very close to quitting the production.

Amy had always been powered by her ambitions, but deterred by the knowledge of how hard it was to succeed in this business. If there was something she couldn't get past, if this was the best she'd ever get, if she'd only reach second tier, only ever good enough, and never great, then what was the point?

Surprisingly, however, Laurie heard her. Amy made him see what he'd been avoiding for years. He knew what he was doing. He knew he was wrong. He just didn't want to face his own pain, didn't want to change, to grow up, to truly leave it behind. But he also knew he had to. If he wanted to keep going, he couldn't be dragged back by the past.

And then there was her. He and Amy had become so close through the course of rehearsals. She had been the one to wake him up, and to see there's a future beyond Jo, to make him start to love dancing again. He desperately didn't want her to quit the show, to quit him. He wanted to be there, to be better for her, wanted to dance with her, wanted to be the partner she deserved.

Laurie committed. He showed up, for Amy, every rehearsal and every show after that. More than that, he worked hard on it, not just for her, but because he'd begun to feel passionate about dancing again. And in his revival, he made Amy feel it too. Though she'd never abandon her dreams, seeing Laurie like this made her remember why she loved dancing in the first place. Not just to be a prima, not just to be great, but to be an artist.

The two of them, dancing together, managed to get past complacency, past ambition, past insecurities. They managed to dance, to create something beautiful, to fall in love with it all over again. They managed to fall in love.

Amy and Laurie made each other better. They inspired each other, captured one another's hearts. They danced together, and together they shined.

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