#is this the ugliest creation of all time?

[charmac]

How to draw people into your blog? Create a feature everyone in the world wants to use:

Marketing 101, boys.

#iasip #is this the ugliest creation of all time? #well no. that would be the original blog #this is an homage you see #but i made it better #which. was not hard. #paddys pub blog #im sure you can use this for many things #ok so in order to comment on blog posts #you have to hit the part that says '0 comments' #which is annoying... but the comment form is ugly so kind of a win? #anon comments are allowed ofc #i put way too much effort into this and it was still minimal effort imo #should i add seasons to the episodes? #and also just 'all of season 10' etc? #idk

[f1byjessie]

SUGAR, SPICE, AND EVERYTHING NICE ━━ FA14.

being the wife to a formula one driver is hard, especially when they're far away.

( fernando alonso x wife!reader )

━━ one shot.

When you were ten, you baked with your grandmother for the first time and fell in love. With the flour up to your elbows, an apron two sizes too big looped twice around your waist, and your grandmother's sweet voice crooning along to Sergio Endrigo, she taught you the differences between a teaspoon and a tablespoon, that a pinch sometimes means two, and when it comes to cinnamon you can never have too much.

“My angioletto,” she called you, her little angel, “it doesn’t have to look pretty when it’s done. When I was younger, I made my husband, your nonno, the ugliest cookies you could imagine. But I put my love in it, and he loved me very much, and he ate every single one and for the rest of his years claimed they were the best cookies I ever made for him.”

She’d lifted you onto the stool at the counter, so you could peer down at the mangled mess of cinnamon rolls. “It may look odd on the outside, but it is just as delicious as the others, and you know what? It’s even more special because it was made by my granddaughter.”

She’d wrapped you up in her arms then, pressing a kiss to your forehead and laughing loudly and warmly when you tried to squirm out of her arms with a giggle of your own.

“One day, my angioletto, you will find someone who loves you with their entire heart, and it won’t matter how pretty your baking is, because they will eat it, and to them it will taste like heaven.” She’d pulled apart the cinnamon roll, looked you in the eye, and smiled— “Until that someone gets here, I will stand in.”

You ate the whole pan together, and neither of you cared that it ruined your appetite for supper or gave you a stomach ache a little while later.

She’d driven you home that night after the sun had set, and when you got to the little shop on the corner of the market square, a little storefront overgrown with ivy, she’d slowed to a cruise and pointed out where the old sign used to be— where there was just an off-color splotch where the walls around it had been bleached by the sun.

She had regaled you with another story of her time as a girl in the kitchen baking bread with the owner, as she did every morning before school in exchange for a few dollars a month, and then she told you, as she always did, that one day she’d buy it for herself and turn it back into the best bakery Italy had ever seen.

When you were twenty— a law school dropout, struggling to find your place in a world that didn’t seem to have any room for you— you bought the small shop on the corner of the market square, turned it into a bakery, and named it after your grandmother.

It was all on a whim, a result of what you're pretty sure was some quarter-life crisis brought on by feeling as lost as you were. Still, you were living out the lingering ghost of a pipe dream from your teenage years that your father's harsh words and mother's disapproval had shattered to pieces, and following in the footsteps of the woman who inspired your passion for creation.

You’re nearly thirty now, and you still don’t regret buying the bakery. It’s your home away from home now— your home when your heart is halfway around the world and waking up as you go to bed. You love what you do, and you feel grateful that you’ve lucked out in being able to spend your days doing something that makes you so genuinely happy.

But that doesn’t mean that every day is easy.

Today is one of those hard days. Valentine’s Day is just a week away which means orders are coming in like crazy, and on top of the hecticness it’s also the thirteenth anniversary of your grandmother’s passing. Even though you’ve made it these thirteen years without her, the reminder of her legacy— her dream, which you now live for her— is no easier to deal with now than it was all those years ago when you’d just lost her.

The smell of fresh bread from the kitchen and the deep lull of Sergio Endrigo over the bakery’s speakers do nothing but remind you of her and the afternoons you spent in her kitchen, kneading dough and icing cookies. You feel like a little girl again, laughing over old stories of your mother and flushing bright red when she’d bump her hip against yours and ask if there were any boys at school that had caught your eye.

You’d give anything to hear her talk about her days at the bakery one more time, have her guide you through another recipe, or listen to her sing along to old Italian classics.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Beatrice asks. She’s a young American woman you met a few years back when she was studying abroad. She hadn’t known much Italian back then, and you were the first person she’d met who could speak English, so she’d asked you for directions to the nearest bus station and you had walked her there to make sure she wouldn’t get lost, which had led to you both talking, trading contact information, and eventually you offering her a job at the bakery when she announced to you months later after continued talking that she’d be staying for the foreseeable future.

You wipe your hands against your apron and offer her a smile. It doesn’t come as easily as it normally does, and you feel like it shows. “Just being a bit nostalgic today,” you admit, turning your gaze to the picture of your grandmother that hangs on the wall across from the display case.

There are other pictures hung up with her— you in front of the bakery on the day you bought it, the bakery back when your grandmother still worked there nearly sixty years ago, you and your husband the day you got married, and Beatrice with her three dogs to list a few, all things and places and people you love and want to remember.

“My grandmother, who I named this place after, have I ever told you about her?”

Beatrice hums, thinking back to the many conversations you have both shared you imagine. As she does so, she reaches for a cloth to start wiping down the front of the display case. “I don’t think so,” she finally answers, rounding the counter to the glass front. “I knew the bakery was named after her, and that she taught you to bake, but not much else. You don’t really talk about her much.”

You frown, “I guess I don’t.”

“But it’s okay,” Beatrice adds quickly. “I know family can be a touchy topic. If you’d rather not talk about her, I understand. I’m not very fond of talking about my brother, to be honest.”

The only time Beatrice does talk about her brother is when she’s drunk, which she usually tends to be when the two of you sit down over a bottle of wine and gossip about the happenings of your lives. You’ve heard plenty of stories about him, and thinking back to the most recent one in particular startles a laugh out of you.

Beatrice seems relieved when you glance back over to her with a soft smile.

“My grandmother was the greatest woman I ever knew,” you start. “Do you mind if I talk about her?”

Your employee— your friend— smiles gently at you and continues polishing away the smudges on the display case. “I would love it if you talked about her.

“She used to call me her little angel…”

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yourusername i’ll leave a piece just for you, nonna.

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user that looks delicious!!

user it’s actually my dream to visit y/n’s bakery 😍

↳ user no cuz literally same, idk anyone else who makes smth as simple as bread look so amazing

↳ user it’s like how irl some foods don’t look that good but somehow in cartoons they make it look like it’s the most appetizing thing in the entire world i would actually cut off my own arm and leg just to get to try a single bite

user così carino!! ❤️❤️

user how is it possible to make food look heavenly 😳

user every time she posts food it makes me want to marry a husband that can bake bc there’s no way i could ever do this myself but i do in fact want to live a life like this so very badly

↳ user FELT THIS OMG

user what a beautiful way to remember someone 🫶

user she’s gorgeous aND SHE CAN BAKE???

↳ user she’s really the most wag of all wags 😩

↳ user fell down a rabbit hole of wag interactions throughout the years and y/n’s introduction into the group is so iconic bc she baked them all cookies and brought them when she first met them all

↳ user i read that in an interview that she knows all their favourites and tries to make them all throughout the season when she goes to races

↳ user she’s actually such a sweetheart irl too, i visited the bakery before i ever knew who she was or what f1 is and if i hadn’t already seen that ring on her finger i would’ve shot my shot no joke 😔😔

↳ user what’s alonso’s secret??? where can i find me a wifey like that???

user this is gorgeous

user using food to celebrate a loved one is one of the most loving things a person can do in my opinion. so much love goes into food, but especially baked goods which take time and patience and practice. this is a really touching and beautiful way to honor someone, and i hope she’s watching down on you and thinking the same thing ❤️

↳ user didn’t think i was gonna be crying today but here we are ig 😭

fernandoalo_oficial mi vida, she would be so proud of you 💛

↳ yourusername i hope so, i am who i am because of her 💛

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yourusername arrivederci 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial and may it be soon, mi vida 💛

user obsessed with the way fernando is obsessed with his wife

↳ user the fact that he calls her mi vida every time he addresses her has me walking into oncoming traffic 🙃

↳ user “my life” in spanish 😭😭 i literally fucking can’t when is it my turn to get a man that loves and cherishes me like this

↳ user honestly i think it’s just time to accept we’ll be alone forever cuz if he don’t treat me the way fernando treats his wife then i don’t want him

user for the ppl asking, arrivederci means until we meet again in italian, it’s a pretty common way to say goodbye in italy

↳ user AND FERNANDO SAID AND MAY IT BE SOON OH I AM ILL

user when will he return from the war…

↳ user it’s only february the season hasn’t even started yet so why isn’t he with her??

↳ user aston martin’s hq is in the uk and fernando has to be there for the car reveal, testing/sims, training, promo content, etc. it’s the logistical pr side of formula 1 that makes the season start a lot earlier than what ppl might think

↳ user AND OVER VALENTINE’S DAY TOO??? 😭😭😭😭

user mama y papa

user i want to grow old with someone and have pictures of our vacations to look back on and remember and i don’t think that’s too much to ask for

user she’s posting like he’s dead or smth 💀

↳ user i mean i would be too if my husband was missing valentines day bc of work tbf 🤷‍♀️

user i can’t believe fernando alonso bagged a baddie who ain’t even 30 yet

↳ user i can have you SEEN fernando alonso?? 👀👀👀

↳ user have you SEEN y/n?? 👀👀👀

↳ user two baddies bagged each other guys there’s not a lot to try and comprehend

Fernando being gone has never really mattered to you much. You miss him, of course. He’s your husband and ideally, you would be able to travel the world with him on a whim without needing to worry about who’s in charge of the bakery, but despite how perfect your life seems with Fernando by your side, there are a lot of things that don’t go according to plan and Fernando’s hectic work schedule is one of them.

The constant traveling across the season is exhausting for both of you, even though you’re not the one doing the majority of it. You attend his races when you can— usually when Beatrice forces you to, which is more and more recently as of late, with the logic that you should get the chance to see the world while you’re still young and while Fernando is still racing— but even when you’re home in Naples, the worry that you feel for Fernando as he flies around the world and races in a dangerous car takes its toll.

You wouldn’t even think of ever asking him to give it up, but not being by his side is hard and you cannot afford— for the sake of the bakery— to follow him wherever his sport takes him. So for now, you will always worry and stress about the toll it all takes on him as well.

You honestly hadn’t given much thought that he’d be missing Valentine’s Day this year, but it occurs to you now as you scroll through the comments on your post.

It’s by far the first time he’ll be gone for the holiday, but something about this year just feels different. Maybe it’s the stress of the extra workload you’ve taken on at the bakery to make up for the extra orders this year and the employees that have had to call out, or maybe the anniversary of your grandmother’s passing is hitting you harder this time than it has in the past, but whatever it is, the idea of Fernando not being here to celebrate with you has your eyes filling with tears as you sit curled up in bed.

Alone.

As you have been for the last few weeks now.

Fernando is in Silverstone, preparing for the launch of the new car and getting back into the swing of things before the new season starts, and this is part of the job you understand. You’ve been his wife for many years now. The racing may start in March, but the real season begins much sooner, and to a certain degree it never truly ends.

There’s always a push to be staying in shape, eating healthy, and staying up to date with all the up-and-coming news. Fernando has worked hard to try and find the middle ground, to enjoy his break while he has it, and take a step back from the Formula One world if only to de-stress from the sport’s particular brand of pressure.

And you’ve worked hard to accept that he will always be thinking like a race car driver.

Nonetheless, though you have enjoyed the interview clips and photographs of him being posted around on social media, and you love even more the pictures your husband’s teammate has been sending you and you alone, you can’t help but want to be selfish. You want to have him with you, in your home, cuddled up beside you instead of 1700 kilometers away in another country.

But that’s the way of things.

You’re about to turn off the lamp and, maybe, cry yourself to sleep while ignoring the very cold and very empty other half of a bed that’s too big for one— a bed you haven’t slept in the middle of since before you ever met Fernando, too used to occupying one side and finding another body on the other— when your phone lights up with an incoming call and his contact image flashes across your screen.

It’s late in Italy, nearing midnight now, and the UK isn’t too far behind. With the strictness of his daily schedule and the importance of a full night of rest, he should already be in bed by now. He should’ve already been in bed hours ago, if you remember correctly from past seasons.

“Fernando?”

“My love,” he greets, soft and sweet and sounding like just hearing you say his name has left him breathless. You can practically hear the smile in his voice. “I am sorry that it’s so late. I hope I did not wake you up, but I am calling because I simply could not bear to fall asleep without hearing you.”

You sniffle, wiping away at the tears in your eyes, but the quiet noise must’ve been enough for him to hear because he makes an inquisitive sound.

“Mi vida,” he calls to you, concern seeping into his words. “What is wrong? Are you okay?”

“Mhm,” you hum back to him, shifting around in bed to face the window and the scenic view that lies beyond. You can see the ocean from your home— the dark water pulling in and pushing out and glittering with the reflected light of the moon, and the boats docked at the marina, still, silent, asleep. The moon’s glow paints the cityscape in an ethereal haze, like something from a fairytale. “I’m okay. Just a bad few days. I miss you, Fernando.”

“I know, my love,” he coos. “But we will be together soon. Do you remember what I told you when I left?”

As if you could possibly forget. The morning he left, a fog had rolled in from the sea and you’d swathed yourself in a shawl to chase away the early, damp chill as you stood on the stoep to see him off.

Fernando had wrapped you up in his arms, an embrace so warm and safe that the feeling had lingered for hours afterward still, and he’d whispered in your ear that he would move mountain and sea to get back to you if you ever needed him.

“But I always need you,” you’d teased. He’d chuckled and pressed a gentle kiss to your lips, a promise, and then pulled you in even closer, tucking your head beneath his chin and letting his fingers run through your hair and comb through the remaining bedhead tangles.

You would similarly move earth and sky to be with him again now, just to feel his arms around you, or in the bed beside you.

“I meant what I said,” he says over the phone, drawing your attention back.

You hum again, “I know. But sweetheart, you have a job to do. It’s a very important job, too.” You curl the blankets around you tighter. “Pay no mind to my musings, okay? It’s just been a rocky start. The bakery has lots of orders to get through for Valentine’s Day, and I am short-staffed now.”

“What has happened?”

“What hasn’t?” You joke, heaving a sigh. “Rodrigo broke his hand in a biking accident this past Sunday, and the doctor says he’ll be out for a month at least. I can have him work the register and do minor cleaning chores, but we really need him in the kitchen because Andrea hasn’t yet been trained to use the equipment. I am trying to have Beatrice help with that, but it will take time we don’t have. On top of that, Samuel’s wife is having her baby so he has taken paternity leave, and Gemma has gone back to France for her mother’s birthday.”

Fernando makes a noise of understanding. “You are so stressed, mi vida. I wish there was more I could do. I am sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. You have no reason to. In fact, I should be thanking you because I’m feeling so much better just hearing your voice,” you answer. Feeling the tears dissipate as your husband’s joyous laughter trickles into your ear from the phone’s speaker.

“And I am better just hearing yours,” he says. “But I will leave you to sleep now. It’s too late for you to be awake. Te amo, mi esposa.”

“Ti amo, marito mio.”

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lance_stroll i’m really only here to take pictures for his wife

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fernandoalo_oficial the heart is for her only

yourusername and i appreciate you very much for it lancino 🫶

↳ lance_stroll at least someone cares about the work i put in 😔

astonmartinf1 Breaking News: Aston Martin’s Lance Stroll challenges Aston Martin’s social media admin for their job

↳ lance_stroll thanks but i think i’ll stick to driving fast cars. it’s less stress.

user FERNANDO MAKING FINGER HEARTS FOR HIS WIFE 😭😭😭

user if you look closely you can actually see me about to jump off the roof in that last picture 🫠

↳ user real

user why is the first one so cute??

user lance is really just fernando and y/n’s kid at this point, he’s the disgruntled son who reluctantly takes pictures of his dad to send to his mom, and he complains about it, but he secretly loves doing it

↳ user i mean have you SEEN what y/n does for his birthday each year??

↳ user no????

↳ user she specifically learned how to make bannock and a bunch of other traditionally canadian desserts and baked goods for him

↳ user i bet lance’s trainer hates that lmao 😂😂

↳ user you all are talking about them like y/n isn’t just a few years older than lance himself is 💀

↳ user leave fernando and his controversially young wife alone

↳ user guys?? he’s literally only 42?? y/n is almost in her 30s, it could definitely be worse. at least they’re both well into adulthood

user nobody talk to me for the rest of the day this is all i can think about now

user HE MAKES LANCE TAKE PICTURES TO SEND TO HIS WIFE PLS OH MY DAYS

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fernandoalo_oficial throwback thursday, as they say, except it isn’t thursday and i just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife. te amo 💛.

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yourusername i love you more mio carissimo 💛

↳ fernandoalo_oficial impossible, i love you the most

user adding “posts me just bc he can” to my list of standards for men

user SCREAMING CRYING SOBBING

user “just wanted a reason to post my beautiful wife” oh my god fernando alonso the man that you are… 😩😩

user guys he’s the blueprint

↳ user she’s so lucky

user WHEN IS IT MY TURN???? CAN I NOT BE HAPPY TOO????

user she’s actually so beautiful omg 😳😳😳

↳ user they’re such a power couple

↳ user super excited for y/n to be back in the paddock this year (fingers crossed it happens more) cuz she’s actually so stunning and her outfits are always very classy and fun to look at

↳ user is there a reason she doesn’t go to many races?? they don’t have kids iirc, so idk why she wouldn’t be able to attend more 🤔

↳ user she owns and runs a small bakery in italy, which means she can’t just travel for 9 months out of the year. she shows up when she’s able to, don’t get me wrong, but it’s definitely less frequently than some of the other wags

user gen imagine being fernando alonso’s wife

↳ user i think i would cease to exist

user cuando es mi turno 😭

Valentine’s Day arrives and with it comes the added stress of knowing you’ll be stuck in the bakery all day helping last-minute patrons sort through pastries and treats for their partners. This in and of itself is not a problem, you’ve always liked helping people and baking is your passion after all, but the idea of rising before the sun and being on your feet until long after it sets is not the most appealing, and even worse, your usual happiness is still overshadowed by the cloud of gloom that’s been following you since last week.

Ever since his first late-night call, Fernando has been good about making sure to ring you in the morning before he heads into the factory, and at night when he leaves. It’s helped, certainly, but nothing ever compares to the real thing and that thought makes you feel guiltier every day that you think it.

He has a job to do, a job that he loves. Neither of you should be forced to give up your passions, and that just means needing to make a few sacrifices every once in a while.

He doesn’t call you that morning, however, and though you hide it behind as much of a cheery grin as you can manage, it stings and you’re disappointed.

But throwing yourself into your work is always something you’ve been good at, so you focus instead on kneading dough, mixing pastry filling, and icing cupcakes.

Beatrice finds you back in the kitchen an hour before the bakery is scheduled to open, and the look on her face tells you she knew it’s where you would be.

“You shouldn’t be working today,” she says in lieu of a greeting.

You shrug, sliding a pan of bread from the oven. “We are too short-staffed for me to not be working today. Plus, what would I do anyway? Sit at home alone pretending that I’m not? At least in the bakery, I can put myself to use and be distracted.”

All she does is sigh.

The morning goes well. There’s a bit of a rush when you first open, the most notable of customers is a disgruntled older gentleman who you consider to be a monthly regular. He explains a long-winded story about his daughter’s boyfriend breaking up with her over text last night, and needing something to help cheer her up. He leaves with a box of cannoli, and an extra loaf of bread you threw in for him on the house.

Near the afternoon is when it starts to pick up, but in a lull between customers just after lunchtime, Beatrice corners you in the back. Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows are furrowed, and her mouth is set in a line.

“Go home,” she orders.

You huff. “Beatrice, I am the boss. Not you.”

She raises an eyebrow.

“I am not going home! The rush will get busier later this evening and we are short-staffed—”

“Rodrigo’s coming in to work register in—” she checks the watch on her wrist, “—fifteen minutes. I ran Andrea through kitchen duty the other day and I’ll be supervising her the entire time, and Marco and Silvia both said they could pick up a shift. I also have a text from Samuel’s wife saying if we need even more help she would gladly get her husband out of the house if it means he’ll stop hovering over her, and I’m prepared to take her up on that offer should the need arise.”

You blink at her. There’s a reason she’s the one you leave in charge when you travel, but whenever you’re reminded of just how good she is at managing the bakery you’re always left a little shocked. She orchestrated everything in the span of a morning and you didn’t even notice.

“Why do you want me to go home so badly?” You ask her, shoving your hands down into your apron’s pockets. “Nothing is waiting for me there anyway. Even if we weren’t short-handed, I would’ve still been here.”

“You sure about that?” Is all she says before turning on her heel and exiting back into the front of the bakery.

You don’t pretend to understand what she’s talking about as you hang your apron up and head for home. Beatrice shoots you a wink as you wave goodbye, and it feels like some sort of foreshadowing for whatever awaits you.

Nothing, however, looks any different than it had when you left. You park your car in the empty driveway, collect the newspaper from the stoep, and unlock the door.

Your keys and the newspaper are both tossed onto the counter just inside the kitchen as you toe off your shoes. You hang up your jacket on the dining room chair as you make your way into the living room, and then you pause.

There, resting on the couch is a stuffed toy bear and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. In the bear’s arms is a little sign, and the handwriting is already enough to have your eyes filling with tears.

“Fernando?” You call out to the silent house.

You check the ground floor and find no other sign of him, so you take to the stairs and begin the ascent up to the next, continuing to call out the many different pet names you have given to him throughout the years.

You peek into the bedroom, “Mia vita?”

Stood in the center of the room, a big grin on his face, is your husband. Fernando looks mighty proud of himself, a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s had this planned for a while and he’s smug that he’s managed to keep a secret from you. He opens his arms wide when you just continue to stand in the doorway, and like a flip has been switched, you rush into him when a sob of happiness.

He wraps himself around you, and the feeling of his arms holding you so firmly in his embrace is warm and comforting, and everything you had missed in the weeks he was gone. Your face is pressed into the crook of his neck, and the smell of his cologne has you sagging even further against him, sinking as far as you can into his hold.

He presses a kiss to your head and sways the both of you back and forth.

“Mi vida,” he murmurs. “I’m here, my love. I’m here.”

“I didn’t know you were coming home,” you cry against him, voice muffled from where your face is still pressed against him.

He runs a hand through your hair, scratching his nails against your scalp in the way that always calms you down, and hums. You feel it in the vibration of his chest more than you hear it. “I wanted to surprise you after you told me how stressed you were. I told you, no? I would move mountains and seas to be with you whenever you need me.”

“Ti amo,” you whisper against his skin.

“Te amo,” he whispers into your hair.

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yourusername to the luce dei miei occhi, i love you more than life itself 💛

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fernandoalo_oficial mi vida i'll love you in this life and the next, until the very end of time itself 💛

↳ yourusername ti amo mia vita

user LUCE DEI MIEI OCCHI = LIGHT OF MY EYES

↳ user oh my days 🫢

↳ user i’m actually ill that is too cute

user they ARE that couple and they have every right to be

user WAR IS OVER

user i need them to adopt me right tf now it’s not a want it’s a need

user GUYS HE WAS JUST IN SILVERSTONE LIKE A DAY AGO??? FOR THE CAR LAUNCH??? THAT MEANS HE FLEW ALL THE WAY TO ITALY LAST MINUTE JUST TO SEE HIS WIFE FOR VALENTINES DAY

↳ user fernando alonso once again proving why he’s the best husband on the grid

↳ user i’m obsessed with them a totally normal amount

lance_stroll every time i saw him he was talking to someone about how he had plans to surprise his wife, i’m so surprised he didn’t end up ruining the secret somehow

↳ fernandoalo_oficial have more faith in your padre

↳ lance_stroll well i’ve seen my “padre” make the most cartoon heart eyes at a picture of baked goods so i don’t think faith is really gonna cut it. you’re whipped man 🤷‍♂️

↳ yourusername lancino you must put up with so much from this old man

↳ lance_stroll you know what? i really do

━━ tags: @maih23 @urfavnoirette @casperlikej @pear-1206

━━ a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, coming in at a whopping 5.4k words! and it's also the first request i've written for! so, cheers to that. this is my little valentine's day story, because i'm actually a big sap and i really do love good fluffy romances, so writing this distracted me from the fact that i'm actually very alone at the present haha! anyways, hope you all enjoyed! i also wrote this in under 24 hours, and it's a lot, so if there's any editing mistakes please ignore them, i genuinely could not bring myself to re-read all of this looking for every single mistake.

#formula 1 #formula one #f1 #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #social media au #fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso imagine #fa14 #lance stroll

[persephosposts]

Lucifer x gn! Seraphim! Reader

A/N: Hope y’all enjoy reading this

In the early days of Heaven, the very early days, there was an Archangel that lived up in the white clouds. The most beautiful creation to ever exist, God’s favorite son; Lucifer.

Lucifer was known to be the most angelic creation out there. His face was so beautiful with was almost painful to look at, and his voice made even the most ugliest of harmonies sound pure. His creations and ideas were large and powerful, and he strived to make his dreams happens.

Lucifer, being the head Archangel, barely had time for himself with all holy duties he had to fulfill. His main purpose was to carry out his Father’s will, and he did its so perfectly. But, even God himself knew that if there was on heavenly creation he made time for it was for his (Y/N).

(Y/N) was a Seraphim, just a step under Sera. They was made for the sole purpose for Lucifer, God knowing how lonely he could get. So when God made his favorite son a friend as a gift, Lucifer held this gift close to his heart.

Currently, Lucifer was sorting through some scrolls. He made sure all of the facts and notions on the parchment were correct before rolling them back up and throwing them in a pile. As he zoned onto his work, his ear perked up at the quiet sound of the door opening and closing, smirking as he heard a restrained giggle from a familiar voice.

Pretending to not notice, he continued with his work with a smirk on his face, only feigning surprise when he felt someone jump on him. “Oh!” He gasped, ‘accidentally’ loosing his balance and making the two tumble over, the familiar Seraphim laughing in surprise as she landed on his back.

Sliding off him, (Y/N) smiled wildly as Lucifer turned over to look at him. “Did I get you?” They asked through giggles.

“Oh, you most certainly did angel.” He hummed, sitting up to face them. “And what was the purpose of this visit?”

“You’ve been working all day, Luci.” They sighed, frowning a bit. “I’ve missed you, and Sera was becoming boring. She always gives me the minuscule tasks.”

“Well that’s because you’re still learning, my dear.” He sighed, placing his hand on her arm. “Compared to Sera, you’re much younger. But one day, you’ll get the big jobs, like me.”

“Yeah, yeah.” They snickered, the two standing up. Lucifer sighed as he looked up at them, a smile on his face. They were definitely taller than him, with them being a Seraphim, but he didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he quite enjoyed the height difference.

“How’s the weather up there, angel?”

“Funny.” They said with an eye roll. “Such a funny Archangel you are.”

“Oh, I know!” He laughed, making the Seraphim smile with glee as they touched his arm.

“Tag, you’re it!” They laughed, Lucifer gasping with fake offense.

“Oh! I don’t think so!” He yelled, flying off after her.

***************************************************

“I got you!” Lucifer laughed loudly, grabbing the Seraphim’s wrist, not enough to hurt them. “You really think you could run from me?”

“I had you for a while!” They hummed, poking his nose playfully. “You’re just lucky I finally got winded.”

“Oh, I see.” He mused, the two sitting on one of the clouds below them. Lucifer sighed as he stared at the Seraphim, who was watching the beautiful clear sky up in the kingdom. He admired their tall stature and their long, soft wings. Their (h/l) locks was slicked back, him having to fight the urge to run his fingers through the tempting hair.

“Lucifer?” Snapping out of his thoughts, he shook his head slightly before staring at the Seraphim more attentively.

“Yes, darling?”

“Were you listening to me?” They sighed, Lucifer blushing in embarrassment. When he didn’t respond, the Seraphim chuckled. “I was asking if you knew anything about God’s newest creation?”

“Newest creation?” He asked, taken aback. With him being the head Archangel, he knew everything about what God was thinking. But he hasn’t heard anything about a new project. “I don’t believe I have, angel. So tell me, what new project has my father come up with this time? Some sort of new bird?”

“No! It’s nothing like any animal that’s down on Earth.” They explained, excitement laced in their voice. “It’s a whole new category! Sera said that they will be called ‘humans’! How splendid is that?”

“Humans, hmm?” He hummed, stroking his chin as he stared at the ground. He was still puzzled on why he wasn’t informed of this creation. Noticing his expression, the Seraphim frowned in confusion, afraid they made their dearest friend sad.

“Are you upset?”

“Huh?” He asked, looking at her and noticing her face. “Oh! No! Of course not, angel!” Then, “I’m just surprised is all. Just surprised.”

“Oh… alright then.” They replied before letting her head fall on his shoulders. The two angels sat there in a comfortable silence, watching the sun fall below the white, fluffy clouds of heaven. Little did they know is that this would be one of the last peaceful moments between the pair.

****************************************************

Gasping for air, (Y/N) felt like they couldn’t fly any faster, their wings practically burning as they raced towards the courtroom. “It’s not true.” They muttered over and over. “He couldn’t! He would never. Not my Lucifer..”

Arriving at the tall golden doors, the seraphim let out a shaky breath before slowly opening them, quickly sipping into the room. Their eyes immediately landed on Lucifer, who was standing in the very center of the room with his back towards them.

She gulped as she snuck in the seats where the other Seraphim’s sat, Sera sending a look as she noticed her “sister”. The Heavenly Father sat on his high pedestal, a bright light emitting off of him as a sign of his glory and power.

“Young Lucifer, how the mighty has fallen.” His booming voice said, Lucifer staring at the ground beneath his feet. “Dost thou have no shame? You have betrayed me deeply, my son. Tempting Eve and Adam to eat the fruit of knowledge, specifically after I told them not too. And falling in love with a human soul!”

What?

That accusation made the seraphim tense up, finally noticing the woman that was down there by Lucifer as well. She was taller than him, just like they were, and she had long flowing blonde hair. Her deep colored eyes were wide with worry, holding herself by cradling her arms. The seraphim immediately recognized her to be Lilith, Adam’s failed first wife.

But surely, if Lucifer had fallen in love with this… creature, he would’s told them? But now, as they looked back on it, Lucifer didn’t tell them anything about this plan. In fact, they had to learn through the invitation to sit in the court hearing by Archangel Michael.

“How dare you fall in love with a human soul? That was not in my plan. I made you a companion, a partner, already! Was that not enough?”

‘Was I not enough?’ (Y/N) thought, biting their lip in anticipation.

“Father, please!” Lucifer let out a strangled cry, refusing to look up. Especially since he just knew (Y/N), his darling (Y/N) that he also betrayed in a sense, was somewhere in the courtroom, looking down on him just like the other angels. He could feel their loving aura a mile away.

“I have no choice.” The mighty voice boomed. “Lucifer Morningstar, I banish you from heaven!” With that decree, gasps all around the courtroom could be heard. There had never been such a thing of an angel being cascaded out of heaven before. “And that goes for your bride as well.”

“No…” (Y/N) mumbled as they stared down at Lucifer with wide eyes, holding nothing but sorrow and worry.

“What was that, (Y/N)?” The booming voice asked, a sudden spotlight on the seraphim. Everyone looked at them, including Lucifer who finally got the courage too. The young Seraphim swallowed, staring at the bright light that was God, and then Lucifer. Feeling time stop around them, (Y/N) curled their hands into a fist. When they finally got the will to pull away from Lucifer’s beautiful eyes, they looked over at Sera. The older seraphim gave them a pitiful look. Write shaking her head, silently telling them what to say. And (Y/N) understood. “Well? The courtroom does not have all day!”

“Nothing, Heavenly Father.” They said, avoiding Lucifer’s eyes as they said their next words. “I agree with your choice.”

And just like that, their friend, their beautiful Lucifer, was thrown out of Heaven.

****************************************************

It had been days since Lucifer and his little “bride” was banished from heaven. Life up in the holy kingdom went on for everyone, everyone except (Y/N).

All the seraphim would do nowadays would cry. They would cry from guilt, wishing they had stuck up for their friend. They would cry from anger, feeling betrayed by Lucifer. But mostly, they would cry from sorrow, the pain of never seeing their loved one getting the best of them.

Currently, the seraphim was sitting in the clouds. They watched as the beautiful stars of heaven twinkled up in the night sky. They had always enjoyed the night, finding the bright patterns that God had made breathtaking. But yet, all they had the will to do was cry.

“You have to stop crying.” Sera’s voice said from behind them. “What’s done is done. It cannot be changed with tears.”

“Just let me mourn in peace, Sera!” They snapped, glaring at their sister. Sera, who didn’t take their anger to heart, sighed and nodded. She then disappeared, giving the young one some time to cope.

(Y/N) continued to cry, holding their knees to their chest as they stared up at the sky. Even the stars reminded them of him…

And as their tears fell on the clouds, they didn’t notice a bright light emitting in front of their feet. Well, until Seraphim (Y/N) heard a baby cry.

#fluff #angst #angsty #hazbin hotel lucifer #lucifer morningstar #lucifer x reader #Hazbin hotel Lucifer x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader

[confused-wanderer]

When they all gather for unnecessary corporate team meetings Soap always prefers to stand instead of getting antsy sitting for long periods of time so he’s the furthest way from the table. However his voice has always been loud, so no one’s complaint about the arrangement.

Price always opts to stand next to the man, and usually excuses himself several times because of the fits of hacking cough that he would usually break out into. But no one really calls him out on it, as they’ve seen the amount of cigars that man can down in a single sitting, not to mention on bad days.

Except one day Price isn’t there, and Ghost finds himself standing next to Soap, both leaning against the wall in the farthest corner. And he realises Price had never coughed once, he’d been stifling his laughter because Johnny said the most out-of-box shit under his breath, and only the person next to him could hear it.

Like the first time it caught him off guard:

Commander: Okay. Where did it all go wrong?

Soap: The moment ye we’e born.

—-

*randomly during the meeting when someone throws trash on the table*

Soap: I am the Lorax, Ah speak for the trees. Litter again, I’ll break your fucking knees.

—-

*After a mission that went sideways due to the new recruits fucking up several times*

Soap *staring at the recruits* : If yer brain was filled with dynamite, there still wouldn’t be enough to blow yer hat off.

—-

*Graves walking in to give a presentation*

Soap: What doesn’t kill ya, disappoints me.

And lastly, yesterdays meeting where Ghost almost choked on his coffee:

General: Get your faces out of my sight.

Soap: Thank god, Ah dunno how much longer ah could’ve stared at God’s ugliest creation. Honestly if I had yer face, would’ve sued my parents I tell ya.

The best part is, Soap is equally oblivious that Ghost can hear him. And Ghost is in no rush to change that.

#soap #taskforce 141 #ghost #price #captain john price #captain price #sergeant garrick gaz kyle #sergeant johnny mactavish #sergeant john soap mactavish #sergeant soap #sergeant mactavish #lieutenant ghost #lieutenant simon ghost riley #lieutenant riley #lieutenant simon riley #fluff taskforce 141 #fluff ghostsoap

[infiniteimaginings]

chase davenport x reader pls the lab rats fandom is in a drought 🙏

I Missed You (Chase Davenport x GN!Reader)

Summary: Chase has been overworking himself with school, missions, his family, everything. He hasn't had time to see you recently, and no matter how he tries to open his schedule something else is added to his plate. So, you pay him a little visit just so he can take a break for a little while. Pronouns: You/Yours, They/Them Warnings: I won't lie, this is kinda angsty (but it ends on a good note!) Word Count: 1.4k A/N: THIS IS MY HUSBAND BY THE WAY. PLEASE REQUEST HIM MORE I BEG YOU GUYS! PLEASE! PLEASE, DO IT FOR ME!

One month, two weeks, one day, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes.

It’s been one month, two weeks, one day, six hours, and twenty-nine minutes, no, thirty minutes since the last time Chase Davenport had seen you in person. Along with that, it had been eight days, twelve hours, and seventeen minutes since he had last talked to you on the phone, since the last time he heard your voice. 

He had been keeping count because, god, he missed you so much. 

Davenport had him working on their next presentation of lab equipment, he had to go on a plethora of missions that have spiked up recently, there had been visits from their grandma, the house system had been tapped into three times, and he had to keep up with schoolwork on top of it all. 

He was exhausted, and all he wanted was to see you. He wanted to be in your arms, to hold you, to hear how your day was, just to be around you. But, he wasn’t. He wasn’t able to do any of that, instead he was in the lab, alone, trying not to fall asleep or pull his hair out.

Chase was the smartest person alive, he had abilities that people would kill for. He was relied on, because he is irreplaceable and a necessity to everyone around him. He is trustworthy, responsible, and far greater than he gives himself credit for.  

His family adores him, they do, even if sometimes they show it weirdly. Jabs with their words, or in Adams case their elbows, small comments, but they show the love. Chase knows they love him and that they care about him, they’re his family. Adam and Bree are his siblings that he grew up with, they love each other, even if they have a weird way of showing it. They are Davenports greatest creations and he reminds them of how important they are to him. Tasha is his mom, he finally got a mom and she cared for him like no one ever had. Then Leo, Leo is his brother who showed him, Adam, and Bree a world they never thought they’d be able to see. 

So many people care for Chase, but…None of them could ease him how you do.

You were just different. It’s as if when Chase felt the entire world crumbling around him, when all the lights got dark and he suddenly felt like he had no solutions, you held your hand out to pull him out of his drowning fears. You saw the ugliest parts of him, the most violent, the cruel, the broken parts of him that no one had tried to fix, and you still smiled at him. You still held his hand, even through the darkness, and you even said you were scared.

When you told him that, he almost blocked out every word after. The thought of you being scared of him, even a bit, crushed him. Chase almost pulled back, he almost told you to let him go, to let him disappear into that dark forest of unknown feelings but you wouldn’t.

He remembers so clearly when you told him:

“I’m honestly a little scared that you’ll go so deep into the code of your chip, looking for what’s happening to you…that you’ll forget you’re still human.”

Chase put his forehead on the table, groaning at the ringing in his ears. He needed to get all of this done. He would say the sooner he got everything done, the sooner he would get to see you, but everytime he tried, something new was thrown onto him.

It was all so frustrating that when he reached his newest project he just dropped his head to the table, hands gripping his hair shakily. He could feel tears stinging his eyes, and a bit of blood drew from how hard he was biting his lip to stifle any sobs that dared to pass his lips. 

He had never felt so overwhelmed before in his life, usually he was so used to the work. He was used to doing everything accordingly, but it all suddenly felt like too much. He didn’t know what he was doing wrong to feel like this, he didn’t know what he was doing so wrong to the point he couldn’t just finish all of the work.

As Chase thought of all this, your words constantly repeated in his head, just as they had the past few weeks. You were scared that he wouldn’t remember his own human feelings, because he was so used to being treated as if he was robotic.

Your concern just caused Chase to tear up even more, clutching at his chest. He could feel his heart beating, he could hear it through the ringing.

When did he forget that his heart was still beating in his chest? When did he forget that he was more than just the chip in his neck?

During his processing thoughts, he didn’t hear the sound of the lab door opening. He didn’t hear the sound of footsteps approaching him. He was usually so on guard, he had ultra-sensitive bionic hearing, how did he not hear someone coming up behind him?

A hand was placed on his back, startling him immediately. Chase quickly wiped his tears, turning to the person swiftly, ready to scold them for sneaking up on him. That was until he looked up and made eye contact with…

You.

You stood there, a frown painting your face as you analyzed Chase with your eyes. 

He stared, agape, lips parted, pupils shaking, face flushed as you observed him. He couldn’t tell if you were actually there or if he had been working so long to the point he had gone delirious.

You stepped forward, hands cupping his cheeks, thumbs swiping at the wet corners of his eyes. “You were crying?” You whispered, mostly to yourself, but Chase heard it, you knew he did.

The brown haired boy didn’t answer your question though, he left it ignored as if there was something more important than how he was feeling. To him, there was. That something was you.

The moment he processed that you were physically in front of him, he stood up as fast as possible, his head feeling as if it were spinning for a moment. He ignored the feeling and wrapped his arm around you, placing his nose into your shoulder, squeezing you tightly, “You’re here.” He mumbled, taking a deep breath. “You’re actually here.”

You nodded against him, gently petting his hair as you wrapped your own arms around him. “I am…” You trailed off, frown still on your face, “Is everything okay?”

Chase thought for a moment, leaving the two of you in silence, was everything okay? His face felt like it was burning and he wasn’t used to it, his eyes felt sore, his throat was a bit scratchy, and he still felt a bit dizzy.

But…

His heartbeat slowed down, his hands weren’t shaking, his breathing was regulated, his mind finally felt clear, and…You were there.

Chase smiled against your shoulder, nodding and holding you a bit tighter, “I missed you.” He told you, pulling back to see your face.

You blinked at him, a bit confused, tilting your head a bit. “Okay… how long have you been in this lab?” You asked him, now noticing how pale he looked, looking around and seeing the papers scattered around. You squeezed his arms a bit, “You need sunlight.” You stated, chuckling a bit, pulling him by his hand to the doors of the lab.

“I still have work-”

“Chase, the work can wait.” You told him seriously, shaking your head. “You are human.” You reminded him, flicking his forehead lightly, “You need proper food, sunlight, social interaction, and more importantly,” You paused, cupping his face, kissing the spot you flicked, “you need a break.”

His breath staggered in his throat a bit, but he found himself once again. Chase smiled at you, his eyes lighting up, “Okay, I’ll take a break.” He told you, placing his hands over your own.

“Thank you.”

He hummed, enjoying the contact, closing his eyes slightly to just stay in that moment with you. Chase opened his eyes once again, slowly to see you looking back at him, concern in your eyes. He smiled again, glad to be able to smile again, “I missed you, so much.”

“I missed you too.”

It had been seven minutes and twenty-six seconds since Chase Davenport was finally able to see you again, and he wasn’t going to let that time stop anytime soon.

#Chase Davenport #Chase Davenport x reader #Disney #disney x reader #disney channel #disney channel x reader #disneyXD #disneyXD x reader #lab rats #lab rats x reader #infinite imaginings

[lees-chaotic-brain]

Hello! I'd like to give Inumaki an ugly Christmas sweater (with high neck ofc) that was knitted by reader. It was her first time, but sweater still looks nice; and probably there is a bear pattern or written something cool and funny.

Good luck!

Ahhh this is so perfect for him, I love it! Also, credit for the text on the sweater goes to that one jjk x reader texts person who has Inumaki's name saved as toge bear. Lmk in the comments if you know who it is.

CW: Singular mention of puke (as a description of a color), crack, fluff

Collab Guide | Collab Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

For weeks you had toiled on your secret project, working well into the wee hours of the morning. Weeks of finger cramps, endless frustration, and eyes burning from a lack of sleep. But finally. Finally, it was done.

Holding out the monstrosity you had created, you couldn’t help but to cackle with glee at your horrific creation.

All your hard work and sleepless nights had finally come to fruition, and in your hands you now held the world’s ugliest Christmas sweater.

The base was a puke green shag, mottled with random patches of mud brown. Neon orange sequins had been sewn winding around the arms, the pattern imitating lights strung around a tree. And to top it all off there was a misshapen white bear with lopsided violet eyes on the front above the words ‘My Toge Bear.”

It was perfect. It was divine. It was your best work yet. Carefully wrapping it in navy tissue paper and placing it in a silver bag you throw open the door to your dorm and make your way to your boyfriends dorm.

“Togeeeeeeeeee!”

You call as you burst into his dorm.

“I have something for youuuu!”

“Really?!”

His eyes light up and he quickly pauses his game before swiveling in his chair to face you.

“Gimme.”

You had barely extended your arm and offered him the gift bag before he reached out and snatched it. Scurrying over to the corner of his room, he sat with his back to the wall and eyed you suspiciously as he opened it. And finally, the moment you had been waiting for arrived. Your boyfriend looked at your creation for a couple of seconds, silent.

You were practically wriggling with glee, dying in anticipation for his reaction to your gift. Slowly he looked at you, and an evil smile spread across his face. He stood, and retrieved a gift bag of his own from his closet and handed it to you.

Wait, where was his abject horror? His look of acute betrayal?? What was with that look on his face? You were beginning to feel a little uneasy.

He motioned for you to open it, before retrieving the hideous sweater and what-did he just put it on?

A sly little grin flashed across his face, quickly replaced by one of doe-eyed innocence.

I love it! He signed, gesturing for you to open your gift. Now open yours!

Filled with trepidation, you slowly pull whatever is lurking in the gift bag out into the light. Staggering back, you dramatically fling your hand against your forehead as you drop your gift. Your handsome, loving, loyal boyfriend had finally revealed his dark side. Laying crumpled in a pile on his hard wood floor was not a ugly Christmas sweater, but an ugly Christmas dress, made of itchy wool and covered with bells and flashing lights.

Do you like it?

His shoulders were shaking with the effort of suppressing his laughter, making his signing choppy. Giving him a half-hearted glare, you made eye contact and that was the end. 

The two of you burst into hysterical peals of laughter as you wheezed and leaned against each other. The second one of you was beginning to calm down, the other would hiccup and start giggling, starting a whole new round of cackles.

Once you had managed to get yourselves under control, the two of you each put on your respective gifts and had a photoshoot, dramatically posing with exaggerated facial expressions. As the two of you rolled on the ground, practically sobbing with laughter after Toge attempted to throw a sultry look of his shoulder for the camera, you fell in love with him all over again. This was what you wanted your future to look like; enjoying spending time with the man you love, while laughing over mundane things such as an ugly Christmas sweater.

#lee's brain writes #inumaki toge x reader #toge inumaki x reader #inumaki x reader #inumaki x you #end of 2023 collab #fluff #crack #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction

[roosterbruiser]

Now hold on!! What about an iceman blurb! Anything would work honestly

prompt I chose: I love the way your brain works.

"how's it going?" Ice asks from his spot on the sofa, glancing over at you on the loveseat. you're hunched over, eyes narrowed in concentration, lips tucked between your teeth. "don't hurt yourself."

"I'll bite you," you warn absently, not glancing up at him.

he smirks, just about to quip something witty back, when you drop your voice a few octaves and mock him, "I should be so lucky."

"trying to say I'm getting predictable or something, slugger?"

"love it when you talk baseball to me," you mutter, still not looking away from your deformed chain. "gets me real hot and bothered."

he can't wipe that grin off his face--that broad one that only you can stick on his lips for more than a few fleeting minutes.

your fingers are tangled in yarn, as are your forearms somehow, and you can't quite figure out how yarning over works or what the fuck chaining one even means. your concoction doesn't look great--hardly looks good, even--but it's much better than when you first started.

Ice knows that you're dedicated like this. you'll spend your day off picking up a new hobby and obsessively restart it until it begins to resemble something remotely successful. he admires it, really, how stubborn you are about it.

since this is a rare day off for him, too, he spent it doing the things he enjoys but hardly gets to do. he went for a run, grabbed decent coffee from the local roasterie, grilled steak for dinner. and now he's watching an old baseball game--except he's moreso been watching you diligently work on whatever it is you're making.

"whatcha making anyway?" Ice hums, raising his brows and craning his neck to look at the twists of yarn in his lap.

very seriously, you hold up a very uneven and pathetic rope that took you more time than you care to admit to complete, and look him dead in the eyes.

"a scarf," you tell him, "for you."

and dammit if he doesn't have a hard time keeping up that cool exterior. so much so that when he's at home with you, there's really no such thing as Iceman--he's just Tom. still, he tries to keep some semblance of composure.

"oh?" he asks, his heart pulsing with affection. with the baseball game still droning on in the background and totally forgotten, he pushes himself up on his elbows before nodding sharply for you to come to him. "c'mere. I wanna try it on."

you debate it for a moment, looking down at your creation. it isn't necessarily what you envisioned when you started out. it's certainly not thick enough to be a scarf--nor is it long enough to wrap around his throat twice.

"c'mon," he encourages, a grin tugging at his lips. "I won't bite."

and this time, Ice mocks you, raising his voice a few octaves and waggling his eyebrows: "I wish you would."

narrowing your eyes at him, but biting a smile all the same, you slink off the sofa and then settle yourself on his lap, a fair amount of blue yarn trailing behind you.

Ice, smirking, holds onto your thighs and watches as you detangle yourself from your creation, eyebrows knit.

"got it, slugger?"

"you're in the danger zone," you warn, all bark and no bite. "here."

he sits up and lets you wrap the scarf around his throat, never minding that it's the middle of summer in California or the fact that he only has on a tee-shirt and boxers right now.

and then you press your palms against his hard belly, lips pursed as you admire the color against his tanned skin. he's grinning up at you, massaging the meat of your thighs until you're squirming a bit.

"how do I look?" he asks.

sucking your teeth, you fidget with a particularly strange looking stitch.

"whipped," you answer honestly.

he barks out a big laugh and you keen.

"that's the ugliest thing I've ever seen," you chuckle. he's still laughing and now you're laughing harder, too. "I mean, really, don't wear that out of the house! it's bad!"

"no, it's not!" he insists.

groaning, you collapse on his chest, cheek pressed against his neck.

"I just wasted my day off," you complain, but he can still feel that smile on your lips, that chuckle in your throat.

he smooths his hands over your hair, humming.

"nuh-uh," he insists. "I love it. really, I do! I'm gonna wear it to work tomorrow."

"fat chance," you snort.

he teasingly pinches your sides until you're squeaking and burrowing deeper against the warm skin of his throat.

"how 'bout this," he starts, tucking your hair behind your ears and craning his neck to catch your gaze. "Mav's birthday's coming up. we could always...regift."

grinning, you hold his cheeks.

"I love the way your mind works."

#m answers #drabbles #tom iceman kazansky #iceman kazansky #top gun 1986 #tom kazansky #iceman #iceman top gun #iceman smut #iceman val kilmer #tom kazansky x you #tom kazansky x reader #tom kazansky fic #tom kazansky imagine #tom kazansky x y/n #tom iceman kazansky fanfic #tom iceman kazansky x reader #tom iceman kazansky x oc #iceman lives #top gun fanfic #swan x tom #swan wallace #top gun #top gun fic #top gun fanfiction #swan x ice

[crescencestudio]

for research purposes, how do the alaris LIs feel about build-a-bear?

build-a-bear is a concept i imagine doesn't exist in the alaris world so i'm laughing imagining them hearing about it for the first time aslfjeijf

BUT LET'S SAY in a modern au they know what build-a-bear is. all of them would be down to go with you. in terms of most to least excited, it would probably be:

Kayn > Etza > Druk > Fenir > Aisa > Kuna’a

in terms of bears they would make:

Kayn: makes a bear that compliments yours. so whatever vibe u make for ur bear, he will follow it so that ur bears can also look like they’re together

Druk: frat boy looking bear LMDLSLA. little tank top and swim shorts. maybe a hat or glasses. he’ll call the bear “little bro”

Fenir: his bear is extra fluffy. minimal accessories so it’s optimal for cuddling with. ends up sleeping w his bear often.

Etza: makes a bear that has a slight resemblance to you. keeps it on their desk so it’s like ur always with them.

Kuna'a: somehow ends up making the ugliest creation known to man. wants to trash it but u stop them and put it on display at home, much to their annoyance.

Aisa: very classic looking bear. like actually imagine what the most standard build a bear would possible look like and that’s what aisa would make. except they would parade the bear proudly like they made something super special and unique.

#alaris #asks #anon #kayn #druk #fenir #etza #kuna’a #aisa

[seiya-starsniper]

Oh I will happily send you prompt requests! Lol.

From the smutty fic prompt list:

15. Corintheus.

Good luck getting to 200k before the end of the year!!

15. A tries to get B jealous as a part of their flirting game. B snaps way harder then A predicted.

OH I LOVE THIS VERY VERY MUCH. I have already written something like this with Dream snapping with jealous rage so I'm going to reverse it this time, as a treat to myself :3 Enjoy this little slice of birthday cake from me to you 💖🍰

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

Jealousy is one of humanity’s ugliest emotions. Dream is well aware of this fact, having carried the collective jealousies of all of humanity for billions of years. It is an illogical, hungry, and all-consuming feeling, born of insecurity and envy for things one does not have. Dream has felt jealousy many times in his long-lived existence, and has crafted many a nightmare utilizing the emotion to serve as dark lessons for the collective unconsciousness.

In this exact moment, however, Dream finds himself unexpectedly endeared by the ugliness of jealousy. It is suddenly a stunning emotion, brilliant in its pettiness and sharp edges, authentic in a way most other emotions cannot hope to emulate. In this moment, it is almost beautiful in its ugliness. 

It is especially beautiful, he thinks, because the emotion is reflected so perfectly in the Corinthian’s face. 

“You are unhappy with my new nightmare then, Corinthian?” he asks, gesturing to his newest creation. The nightmare in front of them is quite similar to the Corinthian; he is tall, handsome and well dressed, but he also wrong. There are green eyes where the ocular mouths would be, dark brown hair instead of blond. They share the same mean smile though, and Dream can easily feel how much the Corinthian hates him.

The Corinthian growls in response to Dream’s inquiry, and then he lunges at the Endless with his dagger.

“Why,” the Corinthian swings just an inch short of Dream’s neck, “does he,” he swings again, and then time Dream lets him cut off just the tiniest bit of hair, “look like me!!” the Corinthian practically screams. Dream only rumbles a laugh in reply, and the nightmare roars before he tries to stab the Endless again.

Dream catches the Corinthian by the wrist and squeezes him hard, forcing the nightmare to drop the blade. 

“Why does he have eyes,” the Nightmare demands as he flails uselessly to try to get out of Dream's grip. 

“You should be the one to tell me, little nightmare,” Dream replies, his tone sharp. “This nightmare is a different type of dark mirror for humanity and if you only—”

“No!” the Corinthian yells, interrupting Dream mid-sentence and resorting now to kicks and punches. “You can’t make another Corinthian, I won’t let you!” 

Dream laughs again, which seems to only make the Corinthian angrier. He starts swinging wildly again, but this time, instead of Dream, the blond tries to kick his legs out to destroy the newly created nightmare, but he is just barely out of reach. Dream sighs, exasperated, before he tosses the Corinthian to the other side of the Shores of Creation. He hides the new nightmare before the blond can cross the sands back to where he is standing.

When the Corinthian reaches Dream, covered in sand and without his signature lenses, he is shaking with fury and indignation, his ocular mouths clenched and hissing loudly. 

“What the hell are you playing at Dream?” the Corinthian demands. Dream only shrugs and then he unveils the nightmare from its hiding place, this time revealing its true for to the Arcana. It looks nothing like it did before; instead, the creature is a writhing mess of thorny vines, seemingly all at odds with one another, as if competing to see which appendage would triumph over the others.

“His name is Zephyr,” Dream purrs, pressing his forehead to the newly created dream before he sends it off into its new function. It disappears into the Dreaming in a howl of unending hunger, desperate to devour all that it does not have. “And he is a manifestation of every insecurity, every inadequacy a creature feels in itself.”

Dream turns his gaze back to the Corinthian, who is now wearing a look of dawning horror as he realizes exactly why the nightmare had looked the way it did before.   

“Thank you for helping demonstrating just how potent he will be,” Dream continues, his smile just the slightest bit mean. It has the intended effect. The Corinthian comes at Dream with his second dagger in hand.  

“You tricked me!” he howls, this time lunging for the space where Dream’s heart would be were he human. Dream merely raises an eyebrow as he easily dodges the nightmare’s attempts. 

“Did I, Corinthian?” Dream asks, amusement clear in his tone. “You know full well that I am not to be disturbed when I am creating.”

“You!” the Corinthian exclaims, starting to lunge for Dream again, but then he stops, a new realization coming to him suddenly. “You knew I would come see you. You knew I didn’t follow that rule.”

Dream hums. “You were never good at following directions, Corinthian,” he replies, not even attempting to hide the smugness in his voice. 

The Corinthian lunges for him again, this time without the knife. Dream lets the nightmare tackle him into the sand, laughing the entire time. 

Yes, he thinks. Jealousy is a lovely look on the Corinthian, especially now that the nightmare knows that Dream had goaded him on purpose. Knows that Dream had preyed upon his insecurities with intent. And still, his singular goal remains to claim Dream as his own. Once again, the Corinthian has outperformed Dream’s expectations of him.

Dream pulls the Corinthian into a rough kiss, and even that is sweeter than normal. The Corinthian had always been a possessive creature, but his posessiveness had always come with a sense of self assurance, a certain smugness that no matter what, he was always going to be a favorite. Dream had condoned that attitude for far too long. It had been endearing early on, but it made the Corinthian arrogant, made him believe that he was above the other dreams and nightmares. Dream needed to remind him of his place.

“Mine,” the Corinthian growls, biting along the column of Dream’s throat. 

“You cannot stop me from creating other dreams and nightmares, Corinthian,” Dream moans as the blond reaches beneath his robe to grip at his cock. He squeezes him hard, then starts pumping at a brutal pace that leaves Dream panting and clawing at the Corinthian’s back. Their clothes vanish into the sands of the Shore, and as soon as the Corinthian notices this, he takes both of them in hands and grinds their hips together.

“I’ll kill all of them,” the Corinthian groans as he increases the pace of his strokes. “Starting with that new one.”

“Mmmm,” Dream murmurs, right before he bites down on the Corinthian’s shoulder. “I look forward to watching you try.”

#corintheus #the sandman #the corinthian #dream of the endless #dream x corinthian #sandman fanfiction #seiya writes #seiya writes corintheus #seiya's birthday prompt fills

[dadjoke-ness]

You guys do know you can just like....make things, right?

Capitalism and the standards of beauty need not contain you as much as they do.

Like knitting. You can knit a sock in a day, and that's at beginner speed. When I'm in the groove, watching anime, I can whip out a pair of socks in a couple hours.

And you can control how long your socks are. Make them not match.

You can crochet.

Crochet that merch you can't afford. Crochet your OCs. Crochet your blorbos.

Sure, you'll have to buy yarn, but if you're doing plushies, you can get those bags of assorted yarn from goodwill, then just wash the plushie when you're done.

Sewing. You can fix clothes, patch rips, hell, you can even fix the holes in socks! You can make things like plushies from old ripped clothes that can't be donated.

You can make so much!! You can make pants that fit. You can make skirts and dresses with deep pockets and a skirt that does the spinny. You can make blankets and pillowcases and pillows shaped like snorlax. You can make a life sized pokemon if you're patient enough. You can crochet a dog sized Slinky toy story, and have him able to extend as long as you want. No one can stop you.

Hell, I'm knitting plushies of my fursona soon, and I'm gonna be way off with color and patterns because I'm lazy, but the knockoffs(tm) will still be loved.

I knit booties for my dog. I knit a scarf that's 12 feet long and multiple hats. I'm making myself legwarmers. I'm knitting an ugly sweater.

I'm also sewing a quilt, but that's taking way longer since I adamantly refuse to use the machine.

AND THE BIGGEST ONE OF ALL:

You can create to donate!!

In my spare time I knit and sew plushies to donate to local kids. The red cross in some areas has patterns so you can create and donate Trauma Teddies - these are bears carried by first responders and emergency rooms and given to children during a crisis. There's charities all over the place that take plushies, hats, socks - whatever you can make - and helps distribute them to hospitals, shelters, and other communities that may need them.

It doesn't matter how good or bad you are, because your creation can help someone. Even the ugliest knit doll I ever made? I still get snapchats of him on his adventures sometimes.

#crafting #knitting #crochet #sewing #tumblr pls listen #you can make whatever you want #the power is in your hands #next week i'll talk about cooking and how you can just #make mayo at home

[kavehnanginto]

pot, meet kettle

pairings: kaveh, itto x reader

synopsis: whiny and hot men smartly decide to date the only one who can match and even beat his charisma and annoying remarks, and everyone is stuck dealing with both of your dramatic characters

tags: you are very much annoying, sweet names except for babe or baby because i hate it, fluff and cuddles, they are very sweet, fun fact the creation of this fic was made because a little birdie told me to do this i just added itto because he is my man,

Kaveh swears he is a logical man, a rational man who desires nothing more than peace and tranquility. no one really agrees with him, with all the bickering with alhaitham and squabbles with dori his reputation of being sensitive is set in stone.

But with you around it truly feels that what he said was right. Compared to Kaveh and you, Alhaitham would rather spend time in hell and dead in a casket. So whenever you were around and in his house, the scribe just seemed to disappear out of nowhere. And you were now always alone with your man.

"Why would you use that as a painting, its too abstract?" you comfortably conquered the couch while watching Kaveh hang the ugliest portrait you have ever seen since the last time he hung one. "I literally went on this five minute walk to Alhaitham's house just to see you hanging this ugly portrait rather than spending time with ME."

He gasped at such comment, he can't believe he heard such nonsense from someone as attractive and ethereal as you.

"Darling, this isn't just some painting, this cost me--"

"So? Is my worth also measured in material value? Hang that painting in the wall or you'll continue to be my lover." With the painting out of the way, you were soon delivered with happy cuddles from a beautiful portrait such as he.

"Now will I continue to be your one and only?" you pat his head, thinking about it.

"Do you really think such measly act is worth my time," he shook his head. "Now let's sleep."

He obeyed and went to sleep smoothly and always remembered to bring you to every art auction after.

Everyone had their own opinion about Itto. He was loud, obnoxious, and the reoccurring theme about his public display of affection. It was getting out of hand, even to some member of his gang (Shinobu). But to you, it was simply not enough, the mediocre singing, the wilted flowers and most recently, your very own cow.

You keep on telling him that this is not what you want and say that you will eventually return feelings once he had given you the right thing. The fact of the matter is you already fell, but he really thought a cow will make you happy. I mean it did, but let your pride take you away.

Also a goat will be nice next time, and then you saw him once more, no longer with his trusted companions, but just him.

"So pumpkin, how is your amazing self today?"

"And that is the first thing you say to me? I am here offering my time and company for you!" you huffed and he immediately apologized. "Also I'm doing great! Want to commit some crimes today?"

And just like that both of you went on a spree, you insisted he holds your hand or he never will hold your hand ever again, and also that he will bring the cow with you. It seemed that Shinobu has a lot of explaining to do, but it seems you are not in trouble.

As the day came into a close, Itto realized that commiting war crimes are even better if the person he likes is around him. But as the day comes to close, and this day of temporary joy has reached its end. The lovebirds said goodbye.

"Until we meet again, my dove." you walked away slowly, the sunset brightening you eyes.

"Farewell, my fair master." he bowed and...

You saw each other again after 45 minutes.

#genshin x reader #genshin fluff #kaveh x reader #genshin kaveh #kaveh my beloved #kaveh x y/n #kaveh x gender neutral reader #genshin impact kaveh #genshin x you #genshin x gender neutral reader #genshin itto #almighty arataki extraordinary and exhilarating extreme beetle brawl #arataki gang #genshin arataki #itto x reader #itto x gender neutral reader #itto x y/n #genshin impact #genshin fanfic

[lilisouless]

continuation of this

and this

Matthias: okay, you proved that i am hotter than Wylan, can i put my shirt on back now?

Jesper: oh Nina, you think you won but you actually shot yourself on the foot-

Wylan: i am NOT taking my pants off to help you win

Jesper: no need, in fact thats the point , he can wear the ugliest attire..

Wylan: oh why it always end up about my clothing?

Jesper: like , look at that sweater and those pants, it looks like the boredom fairy regreted her biggest creation...

Wylan: what does it had to do with-

Jesper: when i found him, he looked like a street rat, he never wears a form fitting thing on his life-

Wylan: do you have a point or you just want to roast the shit out of me?

Jesper: and he is the hottest person i`ve ever known, despite all of that

Wylan: oh, that was actually nice

Jesper: like, i have seen him sick with a terrible rash, wet from sewer water when he fell on one and that time he lost his eyebrows, and i was still attracted to him everytime

Wylan: i still can't believe you hugged me when that skunk spilled me

Nina: how cute, but that doesn't count because its not Wylan is just you, so Matthias is-

Matthias: nono, he is got a point. Once i dargged Wylan to the gym, he gave ten push ups and fainted , he fell on the ground drown in his own sweat and flushed red head to toe yet the gym instructor kept staring for a full minute, pushed me away when i tried to give him cpr (i didn't let him) and i think i saw him cried on the bathroom when i told him he wasn't single. So maybe Wylan is actually hotter than me (and quite accident prone now thinking about it

#at least agree that nina has the better taste overall because hanne is prettier than those two #netflix shadow and bone #six of crows #leigh bardugo #jesper fahey #nina zenik #wylan van eck #matthias helvar #grishaverse shitpost #soc shitpost #good thing i didn't do the whole post it would have been quite long

[dirty-bosmer]

WIP Wednesday

Wow, wasn't expecting to do one of these today as I haven't written anything in... well, months 😅 Thank you for the tag @tallmatcha. The timing is fortuitous.

From the next chapter of my fic, The Illusionist:

He was going to kill her. She could smell it on his musk. Sour sweat overripe with the kind of fear that drove men to destroy strange things they didn't understand the shapes of. It was in his eyes too, a far away, hollow quality, all bored out and looking at her as if from across a vast sea. He was receded from himself. He’d become small, looked like a lost little boy stranded from his mother, and how could she do anything but pity him, all alone on that distant shore? 

The quiet droned around them. There was no sound in the house but that of the hot breath whistling through his nose. He loomed, but Nim felt no anger, only a vague sadness to know that they’d come full circle. That here in the home they’d built together, they stared each other down like strangers. 

“Well?” she said. There was a dull pain in the seat of her body, that dark place that held all her ugliest wounds, and the pain throbbed in the shape of Lucien’s hand, his fingers. The ghost of his touch burned cold. 

Lucien removed his hands from her fluttering stomach to grab her, to replace his knife and mark her again with the promise of its violence. But Nim was not afraid of violence anymore. Her first act of creation had been bathed in it, and wasn’t every labor a vicious thing? To be wrenched from the womb, birthed into this world without permission, to draw that first breath and herald new life with a scream— her existence had been one brutal act after another, and this was as all new beginnings were. This was a gory fight for life. 

“It’s not there.” Lucien’s voice was chalky, full of sea salt because he’d swam so fast to get away from her he'd nearly drowned. Her throat bobbed and the knife kissed deeper. The thin cut seared beneath the sharp lip of the blade. “It’s another one of your lies.” 

But all lies held their own truths, the silly boy. Mephala had loved her enough to teach her that, and Mephala should have taught Lucien better.

Tagging: @justafoxhound @atypicalacademic @chennnington @skyrim-forever @wispstalk @nuwanders @zomboidatomic @burningsilence @dumpsterhipster @dwellerinroots @nientedenada and any of my other mutuals/followers who are working on things, be it art or writing. Please tag me I want to see :D

#tag games #wip wednesday #The Illusionist #Lucien Lachance #Lucien/Nim #Seyda Writes #I am so lost hahahahaahha can you tell #Sheogorath|Nim plssss

[kxllingangels]

Babydoll- H.S.

A/N- Not entirely sure what this is going to become. But, I had an inspiration to write artist and heartbreaker Harry. Enjoy.

'I can't move on, babydoll.'

It had been six months since the fall out. Six months since the era of Harry and I. I think I always knew what we had wasn't love. It never had been. We were just a product of people with too much love to give and not enough patience to maintain it. If I closed my eyes tightly enough, I could still hear the pattern of rain on our third date. He'd worn a shitty blue button up, stained with mustard from the burgers we ate at Macy's diner downtown. I could still feel his thick palms memorizing the curve of my spine, mapping out each curve and freckle in my back as he pressed a paint covered brush to the skin. Harry had wanted to be an artist since he was a child. He could make even the ugliest scenes look poetic, and he loved to use the human body as his own personal canvas. 

"It's the only place I can wash away my mistakes after I make them." He had whispered, pressing another stripe of cold paint against my skin. At the time, I thought that was beautiful. To be able to give life to his creations, and take it just as quickly.

I realized now, that I was just another thing he'd left behind.

 Harry had always been insatiable. We both knew it, and honestly it was one of the things I loved about him. I admired his drive. I loved the mornings I would find him on the fire escape of our small apartment, paintbrush in hand and globs of acrylic in his hair. His tired eyes always meant he was on the verge of creating something amazing. Back then, I found myself getting lost in the deep yellows and violets that rested beneath those sleepy green irises. I caught myself staring at him for hours as he sat in the kitchen, sketch pad in hand. His eyes would flicker between me and the paper, tongue poised at the front of his teeth as he furiously scribbled. 

"Stop moving!" He would complain each time I shifted. 

I would always respond with, "If you don't want a living canvas, stop drawing me."

His smile was unforgettable whenever I said it, and he'd always say. "I can't help it, you're my muse." 

His muse.

It had sounded so lovely then, but what did it even mean now? What had it meant then? It meant three years of my life with him. Him insisting on eating take-out four times a week. Him only liking to watch the weather channel when it stormed so he'd have something new to paint. Him writing notes in the fog on the bathroom mirror for me to find after a shower. 

And him, leaving without warning on a warm afternoon. Only a note left behind to prove he'd ever been there at all.

I remembered that note well. I kept it on my bedside table, even now. It was the only evidence I had to show that the era of Harry and I ever even happened. I had the swirls of blue ink, the indentions from where he'd pressed too hard memorized by now. It said-

I'm sorry, my darling. How could you ever love a man who is never satisfied? 

He was right. I knew that, but it didn't make the words sting any less. He never could be satisfied because he was insatiable. He was always grasping for the next big thing in his life, and it was clear that it couldn't be me that fulfilled him. He wanted to be an artist, and being an artist to Harry meant that he had to do it alone. So he left. 

I waited two months. Each time there were footsteps near our front door my stomach dropped, praying it was him to come waltzing in as carelessly as he had before. Every time I stepped onto the fire escape, I imagined he'd be there with a paintbrush between his teeth and sleep deprived eyes slathering paint on a portrait of the New York skyline. He never came back. Ever, and he and I began to fade like the seasons.

It was winter now. Most days, I could push the brunette boy to the back of mind and try to go on living. I had thrown myself into work as a waitress during the day at the diner we used to frequent. During the nights, I would bartend at the burlesque club downtown. It was always crowded, especially for small place and it kept me on my toes which was fine by me.  Keeping myself busy kept my thoughts of him at bay and that kept me sane. So I ran orders and made drinks and occasionally flirted with a table or two to make some extra cash. It wasn't my end goal, but it was my now and honestly, I liked the routine. 

Something was different tonight though. I could tell it by the way Maren was staring at me. She had that nervous grin that people get when they're about to tell you that your dog went to live on a farm a few hours away, or that they accidentally donated your favorite T-shirt. "You're anxious." I remarked coolly, placing an empty serving tray down behind the bar. 

"No I'm not!" Maren offered quickly. Too quickly.

"Mare…" I said in a warning tone. She was making me nervous. Had she accidentally spilled the expensive vodka again? Was that creep from last Wednesday hanging out by the bathrooms again? 

My eyes turned to face the redhead. Her cheeks were pink like she'd just run a marathon or seen something she wasn't supposed to. "Spill." I said, my eyes not being able to catch her brown ones.

"Okay, so before you freak out-" She rushed out. Great. Nobody starts a sentence with 'before you freak out',  unless they're absolutely certain that you're about to. My ears perked back up at what she was saying when I heard her mention a him.

"Him?" I questioned, eyebrows furrowed. "Who's him?" 

Maren rolled her eyes, exasperated. "Ro-ry, I just said I don't know."

Ro-ry.

That's how she always said my name when she thought I said something stupid, which was a lot. "Anyway!" She continued, leaning over me and filling a few shots glasses with tequila before sliding them across the bar. 

I looked over to see a gaggle of guys donning baby blue shirts. All of them read, "Ben's last night of freedom!" in big blocky letters. 

"So this mystery guy comes in, asks me if you still work here, and then hands me this." She slid her hand beneath the bar, fishing out a small package. It had brown packaging and a string tied in a knot around it. 

"What is it?" I asked, taking the package as she thrust it at me. 

Maren rolled her eyes again. "I don't know," She said, nodding towards the clearly unopened package. "He specifically asked me not to open it since it's for you." She turned back to another customer, beginning to place a concoction of liquor and juice into the blender.

"He was cute," She offered, "But the whole thing was kind of weird." With that the blender roared to life, canceling out most of the other sounds in the club. I flipped the package over in my hands a few times before untying the knot and peeling back the packaging. 

I was met with a white box, but it wasn't that or the sound of a glass shattering by the bar that made me freeze up and seemed to stop time altogether.

It was the scrawling handwriting in blue ink that lingered on the face of the box, reading out-

Aurora,

 I can't move on.

You're still my muse.

#harry styles #harry’s house #harry styles fanfiction #written #harry styles writing #wattpad #fanfic #one shot #imagine #one direction #one direction fanfiction #1d roleplay #one direction writing #fanfiction #writing #harry styles blurb #harry styles x oc #harry styles x reader #harry blurb #harry styles grammys #harry styles boyfriend #harry one shot #harry styles one shot

[londonfoginacup]

if ur goal was make louis ugly with that rapunzel drawing then you made it, congrats

Hi, love! Let’s talk about this :)

Now, since you sent this message pretty soon after that piece was reblogged by a handful of other accounts, I’m going to say you probably don’t follow me. Good for you! That means you’re likely not seeking out and following content you don’t like! That’s one of the first rules of keeping a positive internet space.

That being said, the fact that you felt the need to seek me out and send this message shows that you’re still dealing with the desire to engage with content that is impacting you negatively. Now I know it’s not easy, but in the long run you’ll find yourself in a healthier mindset if you don’t let yourself send the anon hate. Stuff like that really builds up in your system, like a poison that you don’t notice until it’s six feet of sludge in your heart. It’s much harder to deal with six feet of sludge than to deal with the few teaspoons. Remember that you can block me, or blacklist my username!

Because I assure you, I will continue to make art that you will think makes Louis look “ugly”. The inktober challenge is fun because it’s a challenge. Yesterday I didn’t have time to create anything until approximately 10 at night, which was the first time all day I had gotten to sit down and just turn my brain off. I’m an adult and my days are busy! So sometimes my art is done fast! And ink is hard because I’m used to a digital medium where I can move the lines around after I’ve drawn them. It is, like I said, a challenge. And challenges create ugly art.

Don’t worry, though. Last month I drew the ugliest picture of Harry I’ve ever seen. I finished it and zoomed out and realised he looked like my ex boyfriend combined with a beaver. Literally I cannot look at that picture anymore. But I still posted it! Because it’s ugly, but it’s an ugly I made :)

You should try it! Make art indiscriminately! Put your heart into it! Then message it to me, so I can reblog it and we can both find joy in the creation of fanwork! It’s good for the soul. And don’t worry, if anyone sends you anonymous hate, you don’t have to care. Because anyone who isn’t brave enough to put their name on their hate is probably hurting without knowing an outlet for their grief or anger.

It’s okay, anon! We’ve all been there.

#anon #if anyone wants me to tag this a certain way so they can block it lemme know #(I won’t answer more don’t worry)

[hamadacare]

— character info sheet.

(repost, don’t reblog)

name: tadashi hamada

name meaning: tadashi (kind, virtuous, devoted) / hamada (seashore rice paddy)

alias/es: baymax's creator, 'dashi' by hiro + fred

ethnicity: japanese american

one picture you like best of your chara: as if i'm picking one. but if I'm held at gunpoint and have to choose one, it'd be the 💋 one; which hot animated character kisses the screen so out of breath without thought? it's such a cute detail to me like, thank you tadashi for kissing me ♡

two h/cs you never told anyone I found myself rambling a lot in the tags so idk which hc's I didn't end up saying? but at the same time, I have a scattered brain so here you go:

Tadashi used to wear glasses and braces. This isn't to be confused with Tadashi being an 'ugly duckling' before (that's such an outdated notion). Tadashi has pictures of himself from this stage of his life, but he would not show it to anyone until he considers you a close friend.

Tadashi doesn't get angry, but when he does, you don't want to be at the receiving end. His rage was such a wild, violent tornado that he needed anger management classes because it wasn't healthy for a young Tadashi. (He has sent a classmate to the hospital before-) Nowadays as a young adult, it's difficult to get him angry, but he does have his buttons to press.

Tadashi was a former bot-fighter. Sneaked in a third one here. However, I can't elaborate on it as much as I'd like because this needs a post of its own. But the bottom line is that botfighting is different in my canon; it's more physical and personal than having robots fight for the people. It's more of street-fighting if I'm honest. I'll just leave it at that.

three things your character likes doing in their free time: 

doing anything, alone. Tadashi's thoughts are able to be formulated in his mind when he isn't around anyone else; he can hear his own voice. It's hard to believe this when he is surrounded by so many people on campus and is the face of so many things for SFIT but, he LOVES being alone. he can do things on his own accord, he can make mistakes, he can talk to himself without being seen like a weirdo. he can be, himself. some hobbies include: planting, exercising, and taking himself out on dates .. . :')

inventing. It saved him. He invented things at his worst and at his best. He understood it and felt understood by it. It's weird to say that about non-sentient things, but machinery just, trusts you to tinker around with it and it promises you it's going to be a great function in your life forever if you do it right just once.

hanging out with hiro :-) He's the only other person who truly understands him. both have seen each other at their ugliest, and both are nasty asf with each other as far as siblings go. the pranks, the bullying, the sabotaging one another in order to avoid chores, all those good things. but also the memories of sharing their baths in their younger days, the secret language only your sibling can ever understand, and the unconditional support no one else is going to give ... hiro keeps him alive. that is his brother and best friend for life

seven people your character likes / loves: more like, his immediate circle who has seen tadashi at his nastiest-

his wittle little itty bitty brother hiro ♡

aunt cass (his aunt, guardian figure who shoved him on the right path when he was troubled, he owes so much to her ♡)

mochi (hairy baby)

baymax (his creation, his child if you will-)

callaghan (mentor and inspiration. in my canon, he helps tadashi navigate through his anger issues)

tameo hamada (father, he misses being daddy's baby and sitting on his laps :c he was the one that gave dashi the cap)

maemi hamada (mother, she was So ready to be a mother and aunt cass does not shut up about that :'c aunt cass and dashi bond over the strife she went through to get this far in her life and it breaks tadashi's heart)

two things your character regrets:

hurting hiro in one of his bouts of rage. he has physically hurt him once, one punch to his face out of worry (think about that scene in Arcane where vi punches powder), and can never forget about it ever since. right there and then, Tadashi knew he needed help.

as far as everything else goes, if tadashi were to die today, he wouldn't change a thing. "Maybe I have made mistakes and been through my fair share of pain. But all in all, it's been okay, I've lived well :-) "

two one phobia your character has:

fire. though, i wouldn't necessarily call this one a phobia but rather, an element that gets him alert. it does not intervene in his life and he can coexist with it like cooking and enjoying a bonfire, but if he is not in control of it, like smelling it somewhere and not seeing it, he will ask about it and not shut up until it has been handled or he can see that the fire is in someone's control.

tagged by: @spiderbyhalf This one got me to fall in love with Tadashi all over again thank you 💕

tagging: @pupmemoirs , @rcbcllixvs, @randomeeveelutions, @labdweller, @flossinspector, @deprcvities (Darcy!)

#‘⠀it’s so hard to not be hard on yourself ( dash games )