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lot-of-nothing · 24 hours

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Entwined (Ch. 7)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

Weekend getaway :)

Warnings: Suggestive themes aaaaandd a little of that internalize homophobia again

Author's Note: NO BETA BC THIS TOOK ME FOREVER GOOD LORD IM SORRY FOLKS! I moved and started a new job and I leave for Europe in a week so life has been NUTS

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 | Ch. 5 | Ch. 6

Melissa led the way through the front doors of the hotel. You could tell she was excited by the highly animated way in which she spoke to you. She used her hands and fingers to gesture to you and she lingered close to you with her last word, “This weekend is about three things: the endless buffet, laying by the pool, and sex.”

The corners of your lips rose as her lips neared your own. There were still a few inches between you, but you knew that was plenty close for a place as public as a hotel lobby, “In that order too?”

Your response made the redhead laugh as both of her hands squeezed your bicep. You lost yourself for a moment while you watched her grin at you. It was the voice of a man that unfortunately ripped her eyes from you, “Melissa?”

As she turned to face the voice, her red hair flicked over her shoulder with the spin of her head. When her eyes landed on the familiar face of her ex boyfriend, her smile faded, but her tone remained polite, “Hey, Gare.”

A brief silence fell between the former lovers (as did a thick awkwardness), and you waited patiently for one of them to speak up. Gary was the first to break the silence when he noticed Melissa’s eyes wander over to the brunette at his side, “Oh, this is my girlfriend - Lea Ann”

Melissa only nodded, remaining silent and giving a faux smile to the lofty man. It was when he realized Melissa had very little interest engaging with Gary and Lea Ann that Gary decided to turn his attention to you. With a kind smile, he reached out his hand, offering it to you along with his name, “Gary.”

“Y/N.” You return the smile and handshake, surprised at the way his face lit up at hearing your name.

“Mel told me about you when we were dating.” He quipped while wrapping his arm around Lea Ann’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. He seemed genuinely delighted to make your acquaintance - it made you wonder why Melissa refused to commit to something more serious with him.

You folded your arms over your chest, glancing down at Melissa and then back to Gary again, “Did she now?”

Gary was highly enthusiastic with how he spoke to you, recalling memories Melissa had shared with him months ago, “Of course. You were her date to the senior prom after some punk ditched her.”

You couldn’t hide your pleasure in knowing Melissa had talked about you in her previous relationship. You had always assumed she would have kept even your friendship a secret. With a great big smile, you bump your shoulder against hers lightly, “I mean, how could I say no to a face like that?”

Melissa gave a reluctant smile, changing the subject away from your relationship, “What are you guys doin’ out here?”

Gary eagerly squeezed Lea Ann to his side once more and beamed at her. The brunette shifted into his side, wrapping an arm behind his back to better lean against him. It was clear they were enamored with one another, “Early anniversary trip. Lea Ann and I met at Dave & Busters not too long after we broke up. She is real good at skeeball.”

Lea Ann added to the conversation with a shy voice, “How about you guys?”

“A trip for old times’ sake.” Melissa’s response contained a tone that was anything other than warm. While some might not have noticed, you saw her turn snarky and her nose wrinkled ever so slightly. It was obvious to you Melissa was offended by what she thought was Lea Ann’s ‘nosiness’. The redhead folded her arms over her chest, indicating she was finished with the conversation.

Gary knew Mel well enough to give a curt nod and guide Lea Ann away from you both, “Well, I hope you two have a great time.’

“Yeah, you too.” Your voice fell as they walked away - knowing full well Melissa would be upset at this interaction when you arrived at the hotel room.

—

You shifted awkwardly near the door of the hotel room. Melissa had abandoned her luggage in the middle of the room and tossed her purse on the bed before dropping into the chair into the corner to scroll on her phone. She seemed increasingly detached from you since you had spoken to Gary.

While the detachment made you furious, you gave her a chance to tell you how she was feeling before you spiraled, “Everything okay?”

She didn’t even look up from her phone when she replied. If anything, she seemed annoyed that you would even ask such a question, “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Biting your tongue, you turn your back to her with a huff and tug open the door, “I’m gonna go downstairs.”

—

You twist the glass of dark liquor in your hand, mindlessly watching the ice swirl about in the liquid. A fire had been lit in your stomach at the realization that nothing had changed between Melissa and you. She still refused to admit her feelings for you or the opposite sex. Of course you were infuriated, but it was more of a rage fueled sadness had you refusing to look at Melissa who sat (im)patiently next to you.

“You gotta work with me here. It’s one thing to take a weekend away together, but it’s a whole other thing to be tellin’ people that we are a couple.” Melissa sounded colder than she would have wanted, but there was no taking the words back now. You felt yourself growing angrier by the second.

It was clear Melissa didn’t truly understand why you were upset with the entire situation. With a deep sigh, you chose to explain your feelings to her, “I don’t mind that we aren’t official or whatever. I don’t even care that this is so casual. I just can’t be your dirty little secret anymore.”

“It isn’t like that.”

Her reply was quick, but you weren’t convinced. “Melissa… Anytime someone gets remotely close to the truth, you get all spooked and then I have to deal with the consequences.”

The redhead chewed at the inside of her cheek, unsure of what to say to you. She remained facing forward, her fingers absentmindedly ripping at the napkin placed in front of her by the bartender. Mel furrowed her brow as she spoke, “I’m not spooked. I just don’t want people all up in my business.”

You weren’t convinced.

“Either way... You know how I feel about you... how I have always felt about you, and I-” In an instant, you regret opening your mouth. You could see a faint blush spreading across her cheeks from the corner of your eye. As always, you had gotten ahead of yourself, and now it was time for you to finish explaining your emotions before Melissa found a way to steer the conversation away from the vulnerability it was currently steeped in, “For me, it feels like you’re ashamed... of me, and it’s not a great feeling.”

Melissa glared at you for a few moments, and then you saw her left hand reach out to hold you by the back of the neck to pull your lips to hers. Your heart began pounding in your chest as you felt Mel’s teeth teasing your bottom lip and her right hand creep up to the middle of your thigh.

When she pulled her lips away from yours, her voice was low, “I’m sorry I made ya’ feel that way. I could never be ashamed of you.”

Regardless of the people sitting all around, you dove back in for another kiss. You felt her melting into you. With every second you kissed her, Melissa inched closer to the point in which she had slipped off her chair to stand between your knees. Her hands braced against your thighs and breasts pressed to your chest.

The redhead was breathing heavily when she finally drew her lips away from yours. She had turned her head to glance around the room in search of prying eyes when you buried your nose in her hair.

After Melissa’s worries of being watched were soothed by the absence of onlookers, she turned back to you, capturing your face in her hands. She spoke in a low tone which caused you to swallow hard, “Let’s go upstairs, hon.” She took your hand, tugging you along after her towards the hotel lobby.

The deafening chorus of casino games, live music, and both winning and losing gamblers was all but a mere whisper to you the moment Melissa peered over her shoulder at you with a smile - a smile that only confirmed your long standing love for her.

When she had you in the elevator, you were up against the wall before the door was closed with her mouth against yours. Mel was busy trailing her lipstick from your lips to your neck as you choked out a dizzied concern, “We are... going to miss our... uh, dinner reservations.”

“Where at?” Melissa was far too busy tasting your collarbone to give much attention to the thought of going out for dinner. She was far more interested in getting you up to your hotel room to get more acquainted with the hotel bed.

“Some fancy steakhouse.” You murmur before returning her fervor. By now the elevator doors were shut and neither of you had given much more thought to pressing a button to get the elevator moving. Instead you were more consumed with the urge to turn the tables on Melissa and press her against the elevator wall.

Melissa’s hands were woven tightly into your hair as you pinned her to the wall. Your force only propelled her further into the raging desire she felt for you. Mel didn’t need to use any words to convey how much she needed you. Everything about your kisses was sloppy and steeped in desire.

She allowed one of her hands to wander to the back of your neck as your lips drifted down her neck to her cleavage. The redhead held you tight with one arm while the other clumsily reached to illuminate the button to floor 15, “We can just order pizza.”

Her efforts to get the elevator headed towards your floor weren’t swift enough. The elevator dinged and the doors to the lobby parted, allowing a familiar tall, bald headed man and his brunette girlfriend onto the elevator with you both.

With the introduction of Gary and Lea-Ann onto the elevator, Mel and you partially parted. She kept an arm around you with a hand resting on your hip and her body was pressed to yours as she suppressed a coy smile. Melissa raised a manicured hand to her lips, attempting to tidy her smeared lipstick with her thumb. All the while she stared at you down like a starved lion.

Your heart was pounding and you couldn’t take your eyes off her. It took everything in you not to confess your love then and there. She was beautiful like this - seemingly liberated of her shame and enthralled with the premise of being caught in such a public act of affection.

Gary was obviously confused by your closeness and he cocked his head, needing to double check to see if it was really Melissa who was really pinned into the corner of the elevator by you, “Melissa?”

“Oh, hey.” She cleared her throat and acknowledged him with a wave of her hand. You attempted to move your hands from her waist, but her hand caught your wrist to prevent you from pulling away.

The elevator devolved into silence as it began moving to the upper floors. You couldn’t see the looks on Gary or Lea-Ann’s faces as you were too busy watching every shift in Melissa’s expressions. You wondered if this would be the end of your relationship. Your heart was pounding and you were growing anxious at the thought of the potential rejection headed your way. The only thing that kept you from completely losing it was Melissa’s manicured hand on the back of your neck, softly twirling your loose locks between her digits.

Her eyes flickered between the rising elevator numbers, your company, and the elevator doors. Melissa was terrified of who Gary could tell. Through all of her family and friends, she knew this moment could reach someone she knew in a matter of hours. Her personal fears were being slowly subdued by her own willpower. As her eyes drifted back up to your face, they were now filled with a subtle determination to prove herself to you.

Melissa pushed against your abdomen so you would step aside, but she kept both hands on you as she talked to Gary, “How’s your night goin’?”

“Good. I- I didn’t know you two were-” Gary couldn’t hide an ounce of his confusion at seeing you together.

“Together? Yeah, well... Now you know.” The redhead finished his sentence before adding her own bit of attitude at the end of her thought. A lump formed in the back of her throat at admitting your relationship out loud, but there was no taking it back now.

While Melissa was dealing with her own inner turmoil, you were relishing in the fact that Melissa described you two as being ‘together’. You were riding that high even after the elevator stopped on your floor and Mel took your hand to pull you after her.

It was Melissa who lifted your arm to place around her shoulders when you stepped off the elevator. She also turned back to face her ex boyfriend with a cheeky grin, “Have a good night you two.”

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore, @jeridandridge @petty-femme27, @darkcolorphantom, @a-queen-and-her-throne, @cosmichymns

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #toxic relationship? kinda

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syd-djarin · 2 days

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private eyes - jack daniels x private investigator!f!reader (18+ MDNI)

this is for @iamasaddie little lady kinky may challenge! congrats on 2.5k! <333 I was paired with Jack / Voyeurism.

tags: voyeurism (reader watches jack), masturbation (m & f), reader is a private investigator, gratuitous descriptions of my fav cowboy stroking his big cock, dub-con a little? reader masturbates in her car but there isn't anyone around so public but private

a/n: this is the first fic I've completed in months. it's short and to the point, idk how i feel about it but it pushed me out of my writing slump! kinda want to do a part 2 for this, what do y'all think 👀

wc: ~1.6k

smut below the cut

“I want you to catch that son of a bitch in the act.”

The visibly scorned woman, Camilla, sitting across from you asks through tears, ones that she hasn’t allowed to escape down her cheeks; catching them right at the waterline with an overused tissue.

This isn’t the first time a disgruntled, mistreated, or betrayed lover has sought out your services — no shortage of shitty men leaving trails of destruction while they pillage and greedily chase their own interests. She’s no different, seeking closure from the broken-off engagement from her now ex-fiancée, Jack Daniels. The pair had been together for a year, engaged for three months and one day, out of the blue, Jack broke it off. According to her, he didn’t give a concrete reason, something vague about being consumed with his job and that “she deserved a better life than that”.

Of course you get paid a pretty penny for your work, but you take great pleasure in catching a man in the act. Whether the woman needs proof for divorce settlements, custody battles, or to just have leverage. Whatever the case may be, you find a gratification you don’t get anywhere else; the upheaval of a man trying to have his cake and eat it too.

The conventionally attractive woman you couldn’t pick out of a line-up slides her homemade dossier across the coffee shop table, tacky & sticky from previous patrons. You flip through the information presented to you, taking mental notes as you go. You can’t deny the heat that rises up your face as you study the picture of your next target. The deep sable eyes resembling a baby calf’s are staring at you through the glossy photo paper. He’s sporting a mustache reminiscent of Burt Reynolds that is calling your name. His smirk is laced with a charming cockiness.

“He’s quite the looker, I know. Hell of a lay, too,” her words snap you out of your daydream. Her words feel hollow, his looks are the only attributes she’s mentioned during the duration of the consultation. You're not getting paid for moral judgements and you remind yourself you don’t know the whole story.

“Which is why I want to know who he’s fucking. I know there’s another woman, or maybe even a guy… he’d answer calls in the middle of the night and step into another room and I swear I could hear a woman’s voice on the other end, he’d tell me he’s going on work trips… he works at a whiskey distillery, why the hell does he need to go on all these trips?” She explains, putting air quotes around ‘trips’ with her dainty, well-manicured hands, “he’d stay late at work a few nights a week, and then it turned into a nightly thing… Anyways, you come highly recommended, so I’m trusting you won’t let me down,” she adds. You’re not a fan of the passive aggressive, back-handed compliment she gives you, but ultimately you give her an understanding smile as you both rise from the table.

“I’ll be in touch,” you tell her, as you exit. As cliche as that line is, you love saying it every time.

Days of following Jack around have proven to be fruitless. The man has a simple routine: wakes up at six, traipses to the bathroom to begin his morning regimen of a showering, shaving and grooming his beloved mustache, and to conclude, adorns his body in his tight denim jeans, a crisp button-down, a cowboy hat, and boots to match. You hate to admit it, and someone would have to waterboard this information out of you, but the hat is doing something for him.

Or you.

Whatever.

He shops weekly on Wednesdays (he always puts the cart back inside the store, not the cart returns in the parking lot), takes the same route home everyday, watches Jeopardy while he eats dinner – you caught on quickly that he cooks during Wheel of Fortune, it appears he isn’t a big fan of Pat and Vanna, dishes promptly following Final Jeopardy and bed by nine. In three weeks Jack hasn’t had a single visitor, of any gender, leaves work at five like everyone else, the man isn’t adding up to be a cheating womanizer like Camilla had set him out to be. Not to say that he isn’t, but you’re not finding any evidence to support that claim. You’ve actually found yourself developing a crush on the man. He’s undoubtedly handsome, seemingly laid back despite his strict routine, and there’s something mysterious that lies beneath that you’re itching to unearth.

You’re parked discreetly across the street from his house. It’s a nice quiet street, with only two lamps to illuminate the surrounding neighborhoods, allowing you to stay shrouded in the night.

You’re about to call it a night, exhaustion settling deep into your bones, when you notice a lamp turned on in the living room. Fortunately, the window faces the street, making your job that much easier for you. You pick up your binoculars to peer in, adjusting the focus for your prying eyes. Thank the universe he left his blinds open.

He sits on the couch with his back facing you. It looks like he’s reaching for the remote, like maybe he’s having trouble sleeping, but when he settles back into the couch, you notice he’s butt ass naked, in all his glory. Even through the binoculars, you can see how big his cock is. Your mouth salivates at the sight, wanting to feel the stretch of him in all your holes.

You’re not supposed to see this. Not at all. Usually in your assignments, you don’t get the full X-rated view, just the PG-13 suggestive one, and you are more than grateful for that.

But not now.

You’re getting your own private peep show from the man you’re getting paid to spy on. You’re feeling like a grade-A pervert right about now but the sight is too glorious to look away. He spits on his hand, and languidly begins stroking his cock. He runs his other hand through his hair, his toned arms flexing with his movements, his chest heaving.

It shouldn’t turn you on like it does. For one, it’s highly unprofessional. Secondly, he’s unaware he’s got an audience. Morally speaking, it’s definitely not your shining moment. But it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, watching him tease and work himself up. You couldn’t pry your eyes away if you wanted to.

Jack’s not the only one getting worked up; your clit throbs so hard you feel like it’ll go numb. Your heartbeat echoes in your ears thump-thump thump-thump. You let out a whine when Jack massages his tip, precum dribbling out like a sweet nectar you’d like to feast on. He continues his slow movements, dragging out his pleasure at a delicious and excruciating pace. Somehow, this makes the whole scene that much hotter; the display of restraint and discipline. You wonder if he does that with his lovers. Teasing, teasing, teasing, giving just enough to drive you insane before slowing almost to a stop.

Possessed by desire, you haphazardly look for any lingering people outside before unbuttoning your pants to shove your hand to where it's needed most. You gasp at the cool air hitting your thinly clothed pussy, you can smell your own arousal seeped into your panties and it spurs you on further. You mirror Jack’s pace - teasing your lips with a featherlight touch, inching closer and closer to your needy clit, stopping just shy of it, to tease yourself more. It’s agonizing in the best way, taking your time like this. Normally, you like efficiency when making yourself come, rarely going the extra mile to turn the pleasure dial up, but this makes you question why you’re ever in a hurry.

You reach your clit, going in gentle circles to match Jack’s unhurried pace. You wish you could hear the sounds he’s making, all the grunts and whimpers escaping his plush lips.

He speeds up his strokes, now ravenous for his delayed release and so are you. Overtaken by the need to come, you drop the binoculars, letting them fall to the floorboard. You’re not even watching him anymore, having seen more than enough to commit to your spank bank. With your eyes closed and head pushing into the headrest, your mind is flooded with images of Jack fucking you slow, hard and deep, absolutely destroying your pussy – legs over his shoulders, hitting the spot that makes you scream and cry in euphoria. The image of him spilling into you, filling you up with his come is what tips you over the edge, your body shivers in bliss and you rock against your hand to ride out the high, feeling faint from the intensity.

After you’ve recovered and fumbled your chance of ever seeing The Pearly Gates, you dare to look back to his house, to find all the lights back off. It’s a bit of a relief, feeling less shameful of what you’ve done now that you can’t see him at the moment.

You button your pants backup and lean over to retrieve the forgotten binoculars from the floorboard, as your fingers grab them you hear a knock on the window. The sudden rap on the glass makes you flinch, feeling your skeleton attempt to flee from your corporeal body. Your heart drops to your stomach when you see Jack standing outside your car, leaning one forearm against the body so his face is level with yours. Fuck fuck fuck. You’ve been caught. Dizziness and nausea war within you as you roll down the window. You open your mouth to explain the situation, but words never escape your mouth.

“You like watchin’ people don’t ya?” he asks, his tone is dark, but not angry. No, it’s something else entirely.

“I–”

“‘S’alright. Caught onto ya pretty quick. A pretty face like yours ain’t hard to miss.”

“I– i’m sorry, um,” you scramble to find words, any words but Jack interjects again.

“You like watchin’, but darlin’ I want to know, do ya like bein’ watched?”

#snail trail alert 🚨#little lady kinky may #iamasaddie game #2.5ksaddies #jack daniels x you #jack daniels x female reader #jack daniels smut #agent whiskey x you #agent whiskey smut #agent whiskey fic #agent whiskey x reader #agent whiskey #jack daniels x reader #agent jack whiskey daniels #pedrostories #fanfic #smut

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milkywayes · 2 days

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okay so happy pride month or whatever, no one asked but here’s my garrus vakarian dating history headcanon:

he has had 5 casual hookups pre-normandy, which isn’t a big number compared to his peers, and you’d think it’s because he’s an obsessive little freak who’s bad at being a turian, which evens out his good looks and swagger (and for some it does - cue some very frustrated crushes being forcibly stamped out because ‘really? that guy? he yelled at our superior last week in full view of the entire canteen’) but really he just didn’t notice half the advances made at him and the other half he turned down because he was busy thinking about important stuff (like gun mods, or cases, or math) and after careful consideration and weighing the pros and cons decided his time was better spent elsewhere. two of the 5 were with men, the other three with women, all turians. no repeats. he has had zero relationships pre-shepard if you don’t count the homoerotically-charged friendship he had as a teenager, one year before and one year into boot camp, before their very different abilities got them postings on opposing ends of the galaxy (read: elite sniper units on stealth patrol ships vs guy that assists the guy that fixes the lights in a backwater colony). he thinks no one knew about this, but his whole family did know and just tactfully didn’t bring it up. during the archangel years he has 1 hookup mostly because everyone tells him he’s so high-strung and needs to get laid more than he needs oxygen, but he bows out early on because his depression isn’t really conductive to the proceedings (read: she came but he didn’t.) this somehow ends up adding to the archangel urban myth, a true hero of the people asking for nothing in return, wink nudge, which makes him the butt of his team’s jokes quite literally until they all die bloody. he has never been in love until shepard, is initially unable to even categorize the feeling, and unfortunately for him, dealing with uncertainties and gray stuff and undefined parameters are about the only thing he’s actually bad at (besides the whole model turian stuff, if you count that as a skill). so basically his skill tree gets inverted as soon as he catches feelings. previous hookups would have described him as a gallantly attentive but emotionally unavailable, doesn’t save your omni-tool address but remembers your name kind of guy, which he mentions once to shepard. doing so is a faux-pas, though she doesn’t point this out and instead laughs uproariously because just that day he dented his newly-polished armor in his attempt to hold the elevator for her

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#milky.txt #garrus vakarian #shakarian

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mahoutoons · 3 days

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no, the sailor moon 90s anime is not more feminst than the manga

i've seen people herald the 90s anime as this beacon of feminism just because it focuses on the relationship between the inner senshi instead of usagi and mamoru's relationship. there's this idea that the manga being more about romance makes it inherently less feminist than the anime. but i want to shut that idea down.

people keep circulating these three screenshots to prove the 90s anime is this feminist masterpiece

but just a scene prior in the SAME EPISODE, rei calls usagi ugly COMPLETELY UNPROVOKED

yes there's teasing between friends but come on. usagi didn't even do anything to warrant being compared to a monkey.

and speaking of rei... she's so heavily lesbian coded in the manga. literally her nightmare in the dream arc is getting married and settling down in the trad family sense. which she destroys with her akuryo taisan like the lesbian queen she is. also her distrust of men is a big part of her character in every adaptation... except the 90s anime which made her boy crazy and have that plotline where she gets with mamoru for a while for the sake of a rivalry with usagi!

there's the whole jealousy thing with chibiusa which is honestly weird no matter the adaptation and idk why ANYONE thought that was a good idea. but its somehow WORSE in the 90s anime. at least, at the very LEAST in the manga she actually communicates with mamoru about her insecurities and the whole jealousy thing only lasts in the black moon arc (which continues staying the worst arc regardless of the adaptation). in the anime... it lasts well into the end of supers... TWO SEASONS after usagi found out chibiusa was her and mamoru's daughter!

and lets talk about how they made usagi jealous over small things in supers! look i get it, she's a teenage girl and she gets jealous easily. but when you get jealous of a child who is also your future daughter and an old woman your boyfriend tried to help, that's when you have issues. there's an entire fucking episode where she stalks rei just because mamoru is staying at her house for a day!

and the most egregious thing which makes me laugh at any claim of the 90s anime being much more feminist than the manga.. is how they handled prince demande. you know, the guy who kidnapped and sexually assaulted usagi? in the manga and crystal, he's killed off unceremoniously.

but guess what ikuhara, the feminist king who knows to write SO MUCH BETTER than naoko, did. he tried to make demande sympathetic. he made usagi sympathise with him.

yasssss ikuhara you go make the pedophile sexual assaulter sympathetic, you feminist king! you definitely know SO MUCH BETTER than naoko!

and people thought crystal was antifeminist? get outta my face with that at least crystal didn't try to make the fucking borderline rapist sympathetic, he disintegrated in a pile of dust like he deserves.

you might be thinking "get outta here no one says the 90s anime is more feminist than the manga". well yes people do. you'd be surprised. i went to an old anime confession blog and found these posts back when crystal was still new and still had a MASSIVE hatedom

and these are just some of the posts. there's so much more. people who dared to enjoy crystal were called misogynistic for... liking a show. even today i see people bash naoko for the smallest things while praising ikuhara as a feminist king and lgbt ally who did more for the community than naoko (which is funny because the 90s anime has an episode where makoto has a crush on haruka and the girls are like "nuuuuuu mako you can't date haruka you're a girl" which wasn't in the manga). when he wouldn't even have been able to make the anime without naoko's manga.

there's an interview with naoko takeuchi where she says that the difference between the manga and 90s anime was that the 90s anime had a male perspective as it was directed by men while the manga mostly had a female perspective as it was written by a woman.

and it honestly really shows when you watch the anime again.

was the 90s anime progressive for its time? yes. is the manga peak feminist literature? no. you can prefer the 90s anime over the manga but don't go acting like its inherently more feminist than the manga just because it doesn't focus as much on the romance aspect. the manga focusing more on usagi and mamoru's romance doesn't make it inherently less feminist.

#sailor moon #sailor moon crystal #rebecca talks #i made this same post on twitter and got hated on #hopefully sailor moon tumblr will take this better

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kaitsawamura · 2 days

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🪞 🔮 🍅 🧺 🍯 🌱 The Farmer & The Wizard

PART 1: IN WHICH YOU UNEXPECTEDLY GET THE DEED TO A FARM

❦ STATS ❦ | all other information on this fic including additional warnings can be found on the masterlist

chapter rating: e for everyone, complete fic has an 18+ MDNI rating

chapter warnings: mention of the death of an estranged grandparent (no details)

chapter tags: semi-canon divergent, red thread of fate

chapter word count: 3.2K

This chapter and the rest of this fic are part of this blog's contribution to Fics for Gaza.

❦ LINKS ❦

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My Dear Little Bug,

If you’re reading this, you must be in dire need of a change.

The same thing happened to me long ago. I’d lost sight of what mattered most in life… real connections with other people and nature. So I dropped everything and moved to the place I truly belong.

I’ve enclosed the deed to that place… my pride and joy: Fox Hollow Farm. It’s located in Stardew Valley, on the southern coast. It’s the perfect place to start your new life.

This was my most precious gift of all, and now it’s yours. I know you’ll honor the family name, Little Bug. Good luck.

Love, Grandpa

Honor the family name? What a load of bullshit. There was no family left to honor. You were an only child and your parents had stopped talking to your grandpa on your dad’s side so long ago, you didn’t have any memories of him. Except for a blurry one, so void of detail it was as if it was a dream or a dream of a dream. In that memory, you could recall the thrill of seeing autumn leaves blustering in a flurry across a gravel drive, the creak of an old door, the smell of dirt, coffee, and aftershave. A pair of strong warm arms. That’s about it.

Now, your parents were divorced and the three of you were estranged. You were a singular island floating in a lonely, tumultuous sea. Things had been stressful at work and in your personal life. That must be why you even considered checking your Grandpa’s place out. The southern coast… that was practically out in the boonies. Scratch that, it was in the middle of nowhere. Zuzu City was the closest big town and even that would be small by your adult standards. You didn’t know if you had the gumption to do what it would take to fix the place up.

Still, although you had no idea why your grandfather had chosen you to take over the place most important to him, it would be a welcome distraction. The words in his letter… you were, in fact, in dire need of a change. How this all came to be at the time you needed it most was beyond your understanding. It was better to leave some things to the unknown, even if you did feel a strange pull to this place you’d been to once as a very young child.

You read the letter a final time before glancing at the attached legal papers. Suddenly it seemed as if the space you’d so meticulously curated to be yours was a touch too sterile. The apartment on the expensive side of town. The new, reliable car. The dinner parties, the expensive alcohol. The shiny executive position to go with it. You’d worked hard for it but also had privilege that so many didn’t. You were grateful for it. Even so, you couldn’t ignore that something was missing.

Perhaps long days and even longer nights, clean air, and more sky than infrastructure were the puzzle pieces you hadn’t found yet.

❦ 2 WEEKS LATER ❦

Your apartment was turnkey on the market and already had three solid offers.

In the end, you decided on saving the expense of a rental car, but doing so meant the closest you could get to Stardew Valley was Zuzu City and from there, you had to take a bus. The whole thing felt spectacularly contrived, much to your chagrin. It was spring and while the city was filled with smog, the moment you hit the long highway out of Zuzu towards your new home it was as if the heavens parted to shine a light on your way. Not a single cloud remained in the sky. Well, maybe one little puff that looked way too much like a pastry waaaay out in the distance.

It was a two hour drive on a four lane highway that somehow turned into a two lane without you noticing. For a long while there was nothing but the music playing in your headphones and stretches of field so green and wide open, you could easily get lost in daydreaming. Rolling hills, green grass, and sometimes a fence. Clair de Lune played in your ears and with the surprisingly comfortable position you’d found leaning your head on the window, it didn’t take much for you to drift off.

The bus jolting to a stop is what wakes you on a sharp, snorting breath as your eyes snap open. For a moment, you’re disoriented, unaware of where you are or if you are, in fact, a real person. A headache has begun throbbing at the base of your neck and your mouth is dry. Late afternoon sun streams in the bus window and the driver, a little graying man in a smart blue uniform is standing over you.

“There you are, I was beginning to think I couldn’t wake you. We’ve reached the end of the line. I’ll give you a moment while I open the cargo hold. I have a schedule I have to keep to though!” He says it brightly, smiling as big as can be, the expression crinkling his eyes shut above his rosy cheeks. You nod as he turns and spryly makes his way down the middle of the bus and out the doors.

You do take a moment, but only a small one, to stare out the window. It’s a small bus station, barely even a station at all really. There’s a small awning under a tree that houses an automatic ticket printer. It seems both too modern and too ancient, a monolith, to be here in Stardew Valley. There’s a wooden bench and a cobbled pathway that looks as if at one time there was a lot of foot traffic that has since dwindled. In the distance a wooden fence, fallen into disrepair.

Still, you take a breath and even within the confines of the vehicle, you can taste the crisp freshness in the air. On top of that, there’s green everywhere. In the trees, in the grass, in the wildflowers. In the button-up shirt on the other little old man standing expectantly outside the bus looking in. He’s wearing a brown newsboy cap and overalls, with a golden yellow tie. That must be the mayor. Mayor… Lee? Lemony? Lewis? That’s it, Mayor Lewis.

The mayor had been good friends with your grandfather. He had said as much over the phone when he called to confirm you had gotten the letter and legal papers in the mail. Mail didn’t get lost in Stardew Valley, it was too small but he didn’t known how things worked in the big modern city. He had told you he would meet you to take you to your grandfather’s, well, your farm when you got into town. That was two weeks ago and if you were being completely honest with yourself, you had forgotten that little detail. It was just as well because your fancy cellphone with “unparalleled” service had one little tiny bar; no pulling up Maps here.

Uncertainty roiled in your gut, truly the first bit of apprehension you’d felt since you’d started this process. Maybe this was literally the most foolish thing you’d done in your life, more foolish than breaking into the public pool after hours with your friends your senior year of high school and getting caught by the cops. That had been your last hurrah the summer before you all went to college. Perhaps this was a last hurrah as well. Except, there was no scholarship money waiting in the mail for you this time around. This would be all on you and while you were comfortable with what you had access to for the ball to get rolling, it was different spending your own money than money given to you. Money given to you didn’t count, it wasn’t real.

There was no time like the present. You grabbed your carry on, the one you’d had since high school with the fraying handles and the faded One Direction key chain, and stepped out into the later afternoon. Lewis, who was rocking on his heels with his arms clasped behind him, loosed a beaming smile in your direction. You smiled back, determined to make the most of this first impression.

“Mayor Lewis?” You made it a question even though you were certain it was unnecessary. He nodded enthusiastically and you shook hands. The driver had unloaded your singular suitcase from the hold and gave a mock salute to the two of you as he stepped back in the bus. The doors closed with a wheeze and a loud click before the idling engine was idle no longer and the wheels began rolling the bus back out of town. The mayor broke the amicable silence first.

“You must be exhausted so I’ll walk you straight to the farm and leave you to get settled in! Can I help ya with any of your bags?” You were inclined to let him assist so you handed him your carry on and grabbed your rolling suitcase; a fine film of pollen already collected over its surface. Thank god you’d brought antihistamines. You had an annoying feeling that your allergies would be acting up.

“Uh, Mayor—” he held up a hand.

“Please, call me Lewis. Your grandpa and I were much too close for you to be calling me by a title instead of my Yoba-given name.” Yoba. You hadn’t heard or thought of that name in a very long time. So the mayor was at least somewhat religious, you decided to assume.

“Oh, yes, all right. Lewis it is then. Can I clarify, did you say walk?” Another huge smile broke out across his face, bringing crows feet and laugh lines prominently to the surface. It was humanizing in such a way that you already felt a pang of endearing familiarity towards him. He did remind you vaguely of your grandpa, or what you could remember of him.

“Yes! It’s really not far, just down this dirt road here. I took the liberty of assuming that you would want to stretch your legs a little after that long drive. Your grandpa rode his horse until the very end but I’m sure we could fix ya up with somebody’s old truck if you’d rather use that for transportation from now on.” Your eyebrows shot up your forehead. The mayor must have seen the look of confusion because he rambled on, “Magpie’s a sturdy little gelding, but if he’s too much for you to keep, I’m sure I could help you find him a good home.”

There was so much to consider. You had told Lewis that you planned on fixing the place up but you still hadn’t answered the question that lingered heavily on your mind about what came after that. Did you really plan on uprooting your whole life permanently? Crickets chirped in the hedges lining the pathway. The sun sparkled through the trees as it set in the west. The air smelled heavily of daffodils and lilac. Even without seeing the farm, you already felt a strange pull behind your ribcage, like a string was tied around your heart and was tugging. In what direction, you couldn’t quite tell.

It really didn’t take any time to reach the farm at all. You’d been so wrapped up in further conversation with Lewis that you hadn’t noticed it was a twenty minute walk and sure enough your stiff hips and back welcomed the light exercise. He reminded you that there were a couple chickens that had already been locked up in their coop for the day but as sunny weather was predicted, you’d want to let them out in their run the following morning. The main living structure, a small cabin with a single room and kitchenette, still had utilities running. There was a little toilet room inside as well and a small bathhouse out back for any of your bathing needs. If the pipes groaned when you turned the water on, well, it really wasn’t a problem but if any issues arose from it, he could recommend a handy man to you.

You passed the mailbox and took a mental note that it was one of the first things you’d be fixing; it was leaning so precariously on a rotten wooden post you were surprised it was still standing. When the little cabin came into view as the two of you opened and shut the entrance gate behind you, you felt a tightness begin to unravel in your body. There was an apricot tree hanging over the tiny covered patio. Frogs chirped in the distance from the creek that ran around the far edges of the property. The chicken coop sat close to a bend of that creek next to another west facing entrance. You could also see the overgrown mini forest of trees you had as well as an overabundance of grass and weeds and stone that would need to be cleared.

“Well, here it is, Fox Hollow Farm! I don’t want to overstay my welcome so you let me know if there’s anything you need but otherwise, I’ll let you get settled in for the night.” You assured him as long as there was hot water in that bathhouse and a made bed to collapse into, you think you’d make it through the night. “Good. Robin and I’ll check back in on ya tomorrow morning!” You couldn’t remember exactly who he’d said Robin was but if they were as welcoming as Lewis, it didn’t really matter.

After Lewis had unlocked the cabin and handed you the key, it was very apparent that you weren’t even in the mood for a shower. You waved at him as he left, exhaustion settling deep in your bones. The place smelled dusty already, even though it had only been vacant for three weeks. The wooden floor groaned beneath your feet, but only slightly, as you dropped your duffle bag to the ground and rolled your suitcase just inside the door. You walked to the sink, wiping a hand over the dirty window to look out back. There was a wooden structure with floor to ceiling glass windows making up its four walls. That must be the bathhouse. There was an old coffee maker on the bit of counter space and a singular wooden mug. It was expertly carved and worn down from years of use. You wondered absently if someone local had crafted it.

There was a little basket on the table that was pushed up along the southern wall of the house. You sighed in relief when you realized there was a bag of fresh ground coffee, a loaf of bread wrapped in a cloth, a few clean carrots, a block of hard cheese wrapped in beeswax, a stick of butter in the same fabric, an aged roll of salami, six chicken eggs, and a glass mason jar labeled “Fig Jam” in looping cursive. When you opened the fridge there was an even bigger jar full of milk. You had a sandwich on the drive but you couldn’t resist digging straight into the loaf of bread, cracking it open with your fingers and tearing a hunk off to stuff in your mouth.

The outer layer was perfectly crusty while the inside was fluffy and practically melted in your mouth. You couldn’t wait to eat some of it with the butter and jam and cheese and eggs for breakfast.

After a bit more exploring from which you discovered adequate cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink and a perfectly made bed with an old soft patchwork quilt, you slipped off your shoes and unpacked pajamas from your suitcase. Sliding into bed here somehow felt a thousand times better than it had in your apartment for months. You fluffed the pillows behind you and pulled out your laptop, choosing not to solve the bed conundrum the first night here. Unsurprisingly there was no internet and your phone was definitely not going to be a good hotspot whatsoever. It was apparent you weren’t going to get any work done.

It was so peculiar; you knew you had been here once but… you really had no memory of the place. You didn’t didn’t think you should feel a kinship to it like you were. There was a small wooden nightstand next to the bed and on it there was an old dog eared copy of The Wizard of Oz. Your own books wouldn’t be here until tomorrow or the day after so you decided to crack it open.

For Jack: We always did love this book, even when we were kids. I saw it the other day on a shelf in a little book store on my trip a few towns over. Hope you like it.

The note scribbled in the inside cover was signed “Lew”. As in Lewis? Your grandpa and Lewis really were old friends then. He must be taking this harder than you would have guessed. You would make sure to invite him over for coffee and offer your condolences. Yes, Jack was your grandfather but you didn’t really know him. The light on the nightstand didn’t provide much light but you flipped to the first page of the book and read:

"Dorothy lived in the midst of the great Kansas prairies, with Uncle Henry, who was a farmer, and Aunt Em, who was the farmer's wife."

No sooner had you read two pages than your eyes fluttered shut. You tried to keep them open but to no avail so you flipped the light back out and snuggled into the sheets, completely forgetting to turn the white noise on your phone. It had been a necessary portion of your sleep routine for years and years and years.

But tonight, you fell asleep without it, the song of the night filtering in the window you’d left open next to the bed.

Gojo Satoru woke from a deep slumber, sat upright, and squinted his eyes to look about his room. There was nothing out of place. His tower window was open; it always had to be when he slept, except for some days in autumn and for most of the winter season.

He strained to listen, thinking a nocturnal animal must have disturbed his sleep. Again, nothing amiss. He could hear the crickets and the frogs, and in the very far distance, the notes of a mockingbird’s song trilled to him over the cool spring air.

He laid back down, the moonlight shining in the window spilling over his bare chest and illuminating his white hair. If he just breathed slow enough to also slow the sudden rapid beating of his heart, he could go back to sleep. Meditation was something he did often so it didn’t take much. But he couldn’t stop the tugging sensation somewhere behind his ribcage. Strange.

Something had changed in Stardew Valley and he was going to find out what.

This work and its digital elements (credit for pixel art to ConcernedApe) are © Kait of @kaitsawamura 2020-PRESENT. I do not own any rights to Stardew Valley and any subsequent settings/characters, but this work is heavily inspired by that amazing game. Please do not alter or copy this work. Please do not repost this work to other platforms without my express permission.

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #stardew valley #stardew valley au #fics for gaza #fic: the farmer and the wizard #kait writes

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fernandoswarcrimes · 2 days

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𝓣𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓽 𝓦𝓪𝓻

Summary: the one where they survive the Great War. - this is part four in the 𝓟𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓬𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷 𝓟𝓻𝓸𝓰𝓻𝓪𝓶 series. Word count: 3.1k Warnings: Dimitri and Alexei trying to play masterminds & Gracie’s parents being awful per usual. Upset Charles in this one I’m sorry guys💔 Note: part 5 will be just as eventful can you guess what will happen next?

Taglist: @pitchandgrid @yourmom-lmao @dessxoxsworld @yellowscuderia @buendiabebeta @stillbreathin @flyingmushroomss @moneymasnn@christianpulisic10 @pierre-gasssllyy @heavengirls111 @evans-dejong @hungryhungarian @glitterquadricorn @mariar31 @pitconfirmbutton @squirreljoe @livster @lightsoutletsgo @marelovesf1 @saturnsrinqs @mbappebby @kaliis-blog @fanfiction-666 @six-call @tbhidkbutok

Charles had gotten on the flight to England a few days later after Dimitri and Alexei visited him. Gracie’s letter tucked away in his bag. It had become a lifeline of sorts to him. He hadn’t gone anywhere without it after reading the words she had written to him. Making a promise to himself that he wouldn’t give up on finding her no matter what, and he could be quite stubborn about something when he put his mind to it, this was no different.

Thankfully once he got to the hotel he noticed the two people he needed to speak with standing in the lobby. Perfect.

“I need your help! Gracie got sent away and I think it might have been my fault.” Charles blurted out quickly once he made it over to Lance and Mick. A look of worry and shame on his face after uttering the words he still was trying to deny were true in his mind.

“What.” Lance asked blankly, not understanding a word of what Charles just said. Partially because he just wasn't listening and the other part being that it just sounded so unbelievable that he couldn't fathom it actually being true.

“Her parents…sent her away…because they didn’t want her to keep seeing me… and we kept seeing each other in secret. Pierre accidently posted the picture of the three of us on Instagram and got us caught..” Charles explained again slowly, hoping it would click for the Aston Martin driver now.

The dark haired Canadian just stared at the Monegasque driver for a few seconds. How dumb could the Ferrari driver actually be?

Pretty fucking dumb apparently.

Mick on the other hand just stood there silently looking between the two pursing his lips, partially because of Lance's inability to understand the simplest things and the other at the fact that nothing could ever be normal in Charles' life, something always had to go wrong.

“Oh my god, We need an adult.” Charles said, putting his hands on his hips in exasperation after neither boy said anything to help him, this was not going how he thought it would and he was turning into a little ball of stress and anxiety like a wet cat falling into a bathtub after scurrying too close to the edge. He was grasping at straws at this point.

“You are the adult here.” Mick pointed out looking at him confused on why they'd need someone else. It baffled him sometimes at how some of the older drivers did not act their age, Fernando especially. Godforbid if he acted like a teenager because Eris, His mother and Sebastian would jerk him by the ear until he acted right. Clearly the likes of Charles, Lando and Pierre never got the privilege of fearing their mother, big sister figure and second father like he had.

“I don’t count! We need a better one, an actual adult.” Charles denied, shaking his head he may be older than the two in front of him right now but he is not qualified for this. Then again who would be qualified for this he thought, how the fuck do you find a missing princess? He watched a lot of sad movies sure but he was positive none of them gave him insight on how to do this.

“Why don’t we call Seb? He’d know what to do?” Lance suggested finally giving his two cents on the matter, which caused Mick to look at him in disbelief at the suggestion. “No! Absolutely not, we are not calling him, call your dad.”

“Why do we have to call my dad?? Seb is the one with a level head!” Lance said throwing his hand out to make a point, the last thing he wanted to do was bother his dad even if he knew he’d drop everything to find Gracie as soon as he told him what had happened, his dad never liked Albert or Charlene.

“Because! Do you really want to sit through a two hour disappointment discussion about how this whole thing could’ve been avoided if Charles had just been smart about this?? Because now you’ve implicated me and I wasn’t even involved in Charles getting her sent away her parents actually like me thank you very much.” Mick said, putting his hands on his hips. He was not going down with this sinking ship; he would white knuckle grip his stubbornness like Captain Ahab trying to harpoon Moby Dick.

Charles had a look of offense on his face, he knew he had a hand in this but this was mostly her parents fault for not letting Gracie be happy. He was just in love. Was that such a crime? Her parents seemed to think it was and maybe it was, in some fucked up Royal protocol way, but don't she have the right to love who she wanted? This was not the 1830’s anymore. Nobody was getting married off to the highest bid? Especially not his Gracie, not if he and the rest of the grid had anything to say or do about it.

“Right, yeah, I’ll call my dad.” Lance finally sighed and said, pulling out his phone to call his dad to fix this. He cared about Gracie just as much as he did his own sister Chloe, they had known each other for years ever since his mother had made an outfit for an event Charlene was attending, both women leaving him and Gracie in the ballroom to galavant about and play.

As ten year olds would naturally do.

“What are you guys doing?” Max asked as he walked over to the three after seeing them huddled together in the hotel lobby. Initially what made him walk over was seeing Mick, who looked about ready to strangle Charles and Lance, which was odd because the quiet German boy hardly ever got mad but on the rare occasion when he did he looked like a spitting image of his father. So he had to be nosy and see what was going on. Obviously.

“Charles was seeing Gracie against her parents wishes so they sent her away and nobody knows where to.” Mick blurted out causing Charles to gasp and turn to look at the blonde boy. “Mick!” “What! You said it was Pierre’s fault! He’s the one who posted that Instagram story that got you guys caught!”

The Dutch boy just stood there, completely baffled by all of this gossip. “You let Pierre in on this?? And you didn’t tell me??” He asked his emotional support rival. “I helped you the first time Pierre screwed up.” He pointed out, a bit offended that Charles hadn’t asked him to keep this secret but instead went to Pierre who apparently blew it.

“I have had so much happen in just a few short weeks. Can you please cut me some slack Max.” Charles groaned, rubbing at his face because this was getting out of hand now.

“No.” The Red Bull driver said, crossing his arms. “Because you’re dumb. That was so dumb. You’ve done a lot of dumb shit but this has to take the cake.”

Lance suddenly hung up the phone after talking to his dad. “My dads on the case. He said he'd look into it and he's sure he can find her. Money always makes someone talk.”

Charles sighed in relief, had Lawrence said no, they would've been royally screwed in every literal sense.

“Right, so what have we learned?” Max asked, clasping his hands together as he looked over at Charles expectantly who just gave him a confused look. The Dutchman just gave him a flat unamused look. “Stop fucking telling Pierre shit. Tell me next time I can keep a secret.”

Charles just rolled his eyes exasperatedly because yes, he should've not told Pierre, but he wasn't thinking properly, clearly.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Further down in London, Gracie felt like her life was over.

In every dramatic sense a 23 year old girl could think of. She was forbidden to see the boy she was head over heels for, got sent away, and now was stripped of every sense of her being as punishment for continuing to see said boy.

Annalise didn't want to but did as Charlene and Albert asked and had Gracie's natural soft blonde hair dyed an auburn red. The only tell of her looking like her late grandmother Grace Kelley was her face and unmistakable blue eyes, they couldn't change that besides with colored contacts, which Albert and Charlene also ordered they get.

Her ocean blue eyes, now a dark oak brown.

She didn't even recognize the girl she was looking at in the mirror.

Annalise sighed as she rubbed the girls shoulders. “It will be alright Chèrie. Trust.” She hated how upset Gracie was but they had rules to follow, but if she knew one thing it was that love would prevail and that boy of hers would stop at nothing to see her. Young love always does the craziest things the more you push it. This most definitely wouldn't be the end of it all she was sure of it.

“Come, you have practice soon, must get your clothes on, I'll put your pointe shoes in your bag.”

Gracie sighed as she nodded, grabbing her practice clothes and went to change in the bathroom of their little apartment while the older woman went to put her shoes in her bag. She just hoped things would look up sooner rather than later.

In the midst of Silverstone weekend Lawrence had people scouring every Ballet school within the European region for the Monègasque girl. How hard could it be to find the princess? He had more than enough money that he knew someone would cave and start talking.

It didn't take long because just like he thought, a few hours later someone had come forward with information. There had been a generous anonymous donation to the Royal Ballet School in London the same time a transfer student was approved. Bingo.

He had the informant fax the file over, which gave him all the information he needed. A girl by the name of Cecily Marchesault was the said transfer, and by his luck a picture was in there as well. It didn't take a rocket scientist to deduce that the girl was Gracie in a disguise. Sure they could change her hair color and eye color but the girl had a very distinct button nose and rosy cheeks like that of her late grandmother.

During the early morning of Saturday he left things in the hand of his team principal under the guise he had some things to take care of. Said things were making the two hour drive down to London from the racetrack to pick up Gracie and Annalise.

Neither of them knew he was coming so what a shock it was for Annalise to open their apartment door on their way out after hearing a knock to see the Aston Martin owner.

“Lawrence?” Gracie asked rather confused but wide eyed, because this could only mean one thing, that people cared. That Charles got her letter. That everyone was looking for her. Charles was looking for her. She nearly burst into tears on the spot.

“Hey kid, Anna, mind if I come in and have a chat?” The older man asked, raising a brow, it wasn't exactly a question, it was more of a ‘we need to talk’ which Annalise understood and let him in.

It was a devious plan really, in the grand scheme of things because only Lawrence Stroll could get away with single handedly giving the prince and princess of Monaco the metaphorical middle finger by taking Gracie out of the ballet school and to an F1 track.

Remarkably hilarious, truly.

After the press conference Lance had quickly grabbed Charles by the arm as he was talking to Max and pulled him to the Aston Martin garage without giving a reason as to why. Charles being Charles would not shut up and kept wondering why Lance was dragging him off.

“Dude I told you, you'll see when we get there.” The Canadian driver sighed loudly as he pressed the button that slid open the Aston Martin's Motorhome as he pulled Charles inside and up to the little lounge area. His dad had entrusted him with grabbing the Ferrari prince after getting Gracie to Silverstone.

There, looking out at the race track was the all too familiar bubbly, now auburn haired princess, talking with Annalise pointing things out as she excitedly spoke in a hushed tone.

“Gracie?” Charles whispered wide eyed as he froze next to Lance. He was in shock, he couldn't believe that Lawrence pulled it off and got her back. He thought he was seeing a ghost till she whirled around with that all too familiar dimpled smile he had gotten so used to seeing in the time they had spent together.

“Charlie?” Gracie gasped excitedly as she heard Annalise laugh softly as both kids quickly made their way over pulling each other into a tight embrace. It was straight out of an emotional rom com. The guy finally gets the girl after all the trials and tribulations.

“Oh my god I thought I'd never see you again.” Charles whispered emotionally as he held her close. Everything just felt right now. He had his little starlight back. “I was so scared for you. Dimitri and Alexei found me and told me what happened. I'm sorry. I never meant for that to happen I should've known Pierre would've-”

His rambling was cut off by her gently reaching up and cupping his face. “Charles, it's not your fault. Okay? It's not your fault. I'm okay, I'm back now and nothing will ever take me away from you again I promise and when I promise something, I never ever break that promise.” She spoke. And she meant that. She was done abiding by her parents' rules.

“Ever since you bumped into me that day, I've belonged to you; all you had to do was look at me with those big blue eyes like the sea and my heart was a goner.” Charles whispered as he looked down at her and that wasn't a lie, it was like fate had made them bump into each other that day and from that day forth a single thread of uncuttable gold had tied him to her like an invisible string.

Gracie smiled as she reached for his hand, their fingers interlocked together so easily like it was meant to be. His hand was the one she reached for all throughout this war-like endeavor. She felt safe with him, alive, like all the stars had finally aligned and she could actually be who she wanted to be not who she was told to be.

“What have they done to your hair?” Charles whispered with a pout as his free hand reached up to touch the once soft blonde hair that was now the color of autumn leaves. It made him sad that her parents put her through such things just to hide her away.

“It's alright Charlie, Chloe said she'd take me to get it fixed after the race this weekend.” Gracie smiled softly, it warmed her heart he cared so much about something trivial like that. He knew how much her hair meant to her, it reminded her of her grandmother, but seeing her smile caused him to smile back at her. He couldn't help it really; her smile was contagious. He was always smiley and giddy around her, not that anyone could blame him, they were guilty of it too.

Lance just shook his head as his dad came up to stand next to him shaking his head as well as he watched the two. He hadn't seen a love like that in a while, not since Chloe married Scott. He had a feeling these two would be next at some point. If not he was going to hatch a plan with the grid to make it happen that was for sure because if anybody deserved to be happy and married it was Gracie. Whenever she so chose to want that, if she even wanted it. But after knowing her for so many years he knew she secretly did, the whole shebang white dress and all.

“You're welcome by the way kid.” Lawrence called out to Charles with a small half grin trying not to show how happy he was, he was still trying to keep up the stoic appearance and failing. “The things I do for you kids, thank god I'm already gray headed.” He sighed dramatically. “Best get back to your garage soon though, practice is starting soon. Wouldn't want you to be late and have Ferrari up in arms that their prince is missing god forbid we have another missing Royal situation.”

Charles nodded to Lance as he pouted slightly, he didn't want to leave Gracie now that he just got her back but he knew he had to go back to his own garage sooner or later.

Gracie turned to Lawrence with her best puppy dog look causing the mafia boss-like man to hold up his hand and close his eyes immediately so as to not see the look she was giving him. “You can go, just take Annalise with you, and please don't wander off.”

“Yes! Okay deal!” The blonde Royal excitedly grabbed Charles hand and the two were instantly off causing Annalise to sigh as she shook her head following after the two younger kids. “Kids these days.”

“I know.” Lawrence shook his head with a sigh of his own knowing his own son was a handful but seeing the two dart across the paddock hand in hand back to the Italian garage, Annalise quickly trailing after them like a mother hen chasing after her baby chicks made him hope at least that this was the last of the drama for a while.

But he knew as well as everyone else that it was simply wishful thinking.

All isn't fair in love and racing, that much was true. But would it turn into something bigger now? Somewhere in the haze someone will get betrayed especially once Gracie's parents find out that their daughter is starting to defy orders putting the eight century ruling monarchy in jeopardy of ending with them.

#imagine #formula 1 #series #charles leclerc #princess protection program #charles leclerc x oc #Charles Leclerc series #f1 x oc au #oc series #charles leclerc imagine #royal au series #Monaco Royal series #the great war #Charles Leclerc mini series #formula one imagine #forumla one oc #f1 fanfic #royal au

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yandere-sins · 24 hours

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I've been reading your orca stories, and Nerrokan is my favorite. Would you ever consider writing a short POV of how the sirens respond to Bad End 3.2?

It doesn't feel like Krill or Lyr like reader outside of being a plaything, but with Nerrokan it's harder to tell at that point in the story. They do seem to have some sort of feeling at that point already though?

(Reading heavily into the "Human, let's sleep over it" line where Nerrokan seems to be warning reader that staying is a bad choice.)

Thank you for reading my stories and enjoying them! However, I don't think I will make another story addition to that, sorry. :')

But I can give some thoughts on what I think is the outcome.

If you are asking about how they'd react to the reader trying to drown themselves, I will have to disappoint you, very few of my stories would actually go that way—I'm more of a "there is no escape" kinda gal. Reader would probably be picked up by some orca and be brought back to the community spot all like "I found you, you're so clumsy! But no wonder since you're a human."

It's a big pack, even if reader wishes that their eyes aren't on them all the time ^^'

So yeah, drowning is not an option and the orcas definitely won't be happy with the mishap, becoming much less confident in leaving the darling with the others and starting to take turns staying with the darling. Which is only making them more depressed in the long run since Lyr and Krill are somewhat 'eh' about their time with the darling unless it involves something fun for them too, like mating. Only Nerrocan likes to actively spend time, take them to the surface, chill in the sun, teach them orca tradition, and make them happy etc.

As we discovered in their stories, Lyr and Krill really don't harbor deeper feelings for this mate, but I suppose it's a bit like an arranged marriage—you develop your new normal and come to terms with each other. However, since Nerrocan is mated to them, the rest of the orcas just assume that goes for all three. Especially since they are so protective and still respected in the pack.

Lyr would never have another child with this human and probably move on to his dolphin!mate at some point.

Between Krill and Nerrocan, if there is another child, it would probably be Nerrocan's. Simply because he treats his mate better and is involved so they might actually develop a closer relationship. Which in turn leads to Krill's mother finally being dethroned, but even though we didn't get to see much from her, Nerrocan's mom isn't much better as a leader.

Krill would also probably come to resent Nerrocan and his aunt for it, and eventually the human and his own child. Strangely, he can't get over the death of his own mom despite wanting nothing more than to be rid of her. It's a pride thing and the fact that he suffers from the demotion the most.

As for your last point, Nerrocan did want reader not to make a hasty decision because he had already planned on taking them away. Them agreeing and giving themselves to the others was fatal to his plan so he wanted them to 'sleep over it'. He couldn't proceed to execute it once their life were too entangled with everyone's and perhaps he also didn't want to. He got to be with them regardless, even though them growing more and more depressed inevitably hurts him too.

Hope this gave you some ideas for the continuation! Thank you again for reading ♥

#orcas #yandere talk #yandere mermaids #yandere mermen #yandere!mermaid #yandere!merman #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

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bethannangel · 10 months

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Tim Duncan Class of 2020

Manu Ginobili Class of 2022

Gregg Popovich and Tony Parker Class of 2023

#my big three is better than your big three #and the best coach #tim duncan #manu ginobili #tony parker #gregg popovich #spurs #basketball hall of fame

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giantkillerjack · 14 days

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Uh-oh! You are like, SOOO awkward!!

You're so awkward that it is occasionally mildly uncomfortable for people!

You're so awkward that sometimes people are confused by you and then there are awkward silences!

You're so awkward ...... that ultimately no one is harmed!!

Oh damn!!! What a vile crime you have committed! What an unforgivable thing it is to make a fellow human briefly confused!

Why, if *I* were ever briefly confused and kind of uncomfortable as a result, I'd be devastated.... by the absolute net zero change in my happiness and health! - From which I might never recover!! Yes indeed! No punishment can ever be enough for you!!

So you better absolutely hate yourself for it.

Better be SO MEAN to yourself about every single missed social cue so you don't forget your horrible crime! Meaner than you'd ever dream of being to someone else for the same thing! This is YOUR responsibility!

Better accept that idea that bullies carry like guns in holsters - the idea that people who have trouble with social cues should suffer. Better carry on the burden they placed on you. Aid the cause of the callous by enforcing shame and suffering upon yourself extra hard; try your best to do their work for them. They're very busy.

Better not recognize that you need patience and kindness to heal from your trauma. Better not find out that it was trauma rather than personal weakness filling your head with self-hating thoughts. Better not find out it wasn't your fault.

Better not find out that awkwardness is not inherently harmful or unkind, and, in fact, the people who act like it is *are the ones enacting harm and being cruel.*

Better not get righteously angry when you realize just how much unnecessary damage this has done to you. After all, if you get mad, you might realize you deserve better. You might even feel brave enough to DEMAND better! You might build boundaries that keep you safe! You might make other people think they deserve to feel safe too! And we obviously can't be having that, so...

Better not show yourself even a little kindness a little bit at a time.

Better not make a habit out of it after all that practice.

Better not get confident.

Especially if you can't first wipe out every trace of awkward. (And you probably never will. Because people who experience absolute social certainty at all times tend to be insufferable assholes that enforce the status quo. And you just don't have the stock portfolio for that.)

Better not be confident and awkward because then you might confuse and delight people

- you might accidentally end up making other people feel less shame for their social difficulties

- you might make isolated, traumatized, and shy people feel like they deserve to be included in social situations

- you might even make them feel they can be themselves around you

- you might start loving the effect you have on a room

- you might enjoy conversations more

- you might forgive yourself and bounce back from shame more easily and frequently

- you might come to enjoy some of those moments of harmless confusion you cause because NOBODY expects the Confident Awkward, and that can genuinely be an advantage in social situations

- you might stop apologizing so much.

- you might find that socializing is like a video game: it requires practice but also a safe space for it to be fun and positive.

Or if you can't become assertive and confident, better not remain awkward and shy and quiet, and then love and forgive yourself anyway!

Why, it would be carnage!!

In either scenario, you run the risk of finding out that it's not your fault that safe spaces full of kind people can be really hard to find, create, and nurture. You could end up building a skillset that helps you do those things!

- You might realize that it was never your fault that it took so long to like yourself.

- You might realize that you were always worth talking to, even when you didn't like yourself and communication felt impossibly difficult.

- You might realize that you'll still be worth talking to even if communication becomes harder as you age and/or experience disability.

- You might know that you deserve to be heard even on bad days when words come slow and blurry.

You might discover that you were always deserving of kindness, first and foremost from yourself.

So. As you can see, it's FAR too much of a risk to take to cut your awkward self some slack for your many heinous and harmless crimes. Better to just leave it there.

#social skills #i have a few posts now in my ' social skills' tag #original #maybe eventually I will compile them and polish them in some meaningful way. I know what I want to call the book title #in big text it'll say 'I'M AUTISTIC' and then beneath that in smaller text 'And I Have Better Social Skills Than You'#or something to that effect. and the cover of the book will be me making an exaggerated smug face like the little rascal I am #challenging the viewer to pick up the book and see if they can prove me wrong.#and then the entire first section of the book is about how actually the issue with our society's social skills is the harsh judgment #for people who have trouble communicating and not the other way around. I don't actually think I'm the #most charismatic person in the world by a very long shot. but i do know that I have put more thought into my social skills than #most allistic people and frankly i have surpassed most of them. not because i am more persuasive or smooth or funny #(tho i am persuasive and funny lol) but bc i have questioned which social functions are more restriction than utility.#and instead i have focused my energy on actively learning how to make people feel safe. i feel social rules would benefit all people by #being a little more autistic tyvm. i don't think every person should dedicate themselves to being better at communicating #i think people should dedicate themselves to being kind and patient to everyone regardless of their ability to communicate #I think our society wrongly links communication ability to intelligence and intelligence to level of humanity.#when in fact all three of those things are fucking unrelated and connecting them inevitably leads to #really fucked up views on disabled people that hurt us. and then with that aspect of the book firmly understood and established I would #go on to recommend some ways to make socializing easier and more fulfilling (and less shameful and terrifying) for all kinds of people #it wouldn't be a book about Leaning In To Succeed in Business or 'here's how to avoid being the awkward loner at a party'#it'd be a book about how if you see someone alone at a party here's how to invite them to join your group without pressuring them #stuff like 'hot tip! if someone takes a while to type or speak a full sentence - talking over them b4 they can finish makes u an asshole!'#I know that a lot of people cannot or don't want to dump a lot of skill points into socializing like i did and they shouldn't have to in #order to experience basic dignity and respect. if we treat people like that then we just validate that people - especially #autistic children and elders and disabled people of manu varieties - have to suffer unless they learn all these arbitrary bullshit rules #and a lot of them are arbitrary bullshit! one of the reasons I throw people off so much is because I harmlessly break a lot of social rules #but I know I'm doing it and I'm not ashamed and people just don't know what to do with that! but a lot of them like it actually!!#i think it's a relief to be around someone so openly and unrelentingly weird bc what am I gonna do? judge you for being weird??#I only care if you're kind. not necessarily 'nice' or passive. Kind. Brave enough to care about people being treated well. Kind.#also I recognize that at least some of my ability to be openly weird is white privilege so that's important to acknowledge too

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