#Though it does flow well

[torchickentacos]

Finished another :)

[arthur-lesters-topsurgeryscars]

Working on some sketches for a ref sheet of my John design ^^

+ close ups

[moe-broey]

Down time...

Just some VERY messy quick doodles. But it's soooo important to me.... bite bite kill kill bite chew gnaw chomp kill maim murder

+ some extra expressions I like enough to post (but please look away this is private........... like you don't really See Anything/it's cropped out, just suggestive LMFAO)

Mostly just bc of Moe tbh. I like how silly it is LMFAO

[icewindandboringhorror]

I occasionally wish to reach out to old friends/acquaintances I haven't spoken to since high school/some other even earlier time in my life, but I have SOOO little social energy even for required tasks (like making dr phone calls or etc), I never have any leftover for extra ones, and it would be very odd to message someone I haven't spoken to in like 5 years out of the blue but then take 4 entire months to respond back lol.. My natural curiosity with nostalgia/collecting details of the past/etc. (literally if I were born a little earlier I would definitely do scrapbooking or something lol) is very strong, but, alas, not strong enough to beat out the Social Issues Demons apparently

[vvelegrin]

i'm really enjoying pathologic 2, actually. i mean, i didn't think i wouldn't enjoy it as much as i was worried it would just, i don't know, muddy the water. and maybe it will, but i'm not really bothered by that anymore. that said, i do think patho 2 took a fairly unsubtle game and increased its unsubtlety by about tenfold.

well. calling og pathologic 'unsubtle' doesn't feel quite right, but i'm not sure what word would feel right. maybe it's 'distinct in its sensibilities'. I think og patho felt more obtuse, whereas patho 2 is like. here. take it. do you get it. here is the information. do you see the themes. i am announcing them to you in such a way that you know that i am saying something thematic. i'm not far enough into the main story of 2 to be able to say that there's less reading between the lines, but it feels very much so far like there's less reading between the lines. whereas the original had a somewhat different... i don't know, affect? it felt like a hostile workplace where everyone recited shakespeare about even the mundane. in patho 2 nothing feels mundane in the first place, everything feels loaded in a way that og patho was but didn't feel, if that makes sense.

but i think that's okay. at the very least, it feels very much like leaning into the 'theater' aspect of it, which is enjoyable. pathologic 2 feels to me more like... bonus content? not to be Stuck Up For Pathologic HD but i enjoyed the feeling of grinding my face against a cinderblock, having to tease out information and conclusions. it felt like a game that you had to figure out, but you actually weren't really doing any ground-level figuring out of much; you're not a doctor, your character is, so the puzzle of Solving the Plague belongs to The Story, whereas the question of What the FUCK is This Town's Deal is your job. it's a very linear game in most respects, but all three playthroughs come through as a thematic package deal.

i so far get the impression that pathologic 2 can be played on its own and be enjoyed in its own right! however it exists to me as like. director's commentary. i'm really liking the playing with different character relationships and alternate things, the expanding of steppe language and the kin, love my worm guys, but i like it because of how it enriches my eternal mind rotation of og pathologic. sorry guys i played the original pathologic and it broke me and remade me in its image. sorry.

[babesies]

life update: have gotten really into knitting or playing sudoku while listening to this 1920s detective series

[love-has-a-way-ofgrowingbackward]

hurt myself :(

[nihiltism]

god the gallery will always be my favorite album ever but as far as dt albums go fiction is growing on me a looot.

[wiedzmacienia]

Would you rather give up your magic to live a normal life, or keep your magic and never hold any genuine human connections? (There's no anon option, so I guess I have to be called out lol.)

eyes narrow in the light of the campfire, wood crackling and heat meeting her skin that's made it crawl for centuries yet she can not move with the young boy who's head lays on her lap having fallen asleep (she imagined she'd have to carry him back to his tent at some point). maybe she shouldn't have come here, even if the knightley boys had asked her to when she'd been to see beth. they'd found a few soldiers they'd felt able to confide in about themselves, soldiers who seemed to accept them once one of them had used his powers to save the other, and it's from this that such a question has been brought forth. she knows it is not out of malice and yet, it still awakens something deep within her. a memory she's locked away for ages in the depths of her soul. maybe they think her standoffish because she is so much less open than the boys. but she can not afford to be like them when she must direct her forces by the day. these boys were young. too young and had yet to truly understand the world even if they were serving in an army now let alone understand magic or it's role in the world.

there was one day, no, a mere few hours within her life that katarzyna had wished she could have shed her magic from her body and lived a so called normal life. that she could have been as human as the rest of her village. the moment men who had been smiling at the children just the day before entered their home with violence and tore her and her brother from their beds, binding them and dragging them outside. when she had screamed for her brother as wooden posts had been erected. there had been no trial or recourse. no amount of pleading for their lives had halted them from being beaten for speaking the foul words of creatures they'd said. it had been them who had brought the plague upon them they believed. yet was it not the twins whom only sought to save an elderly woman from the pain of such plague? fires had been lit and pain seared their bodies and in those moments she wished they could have been anything but what they were. for to have been born as such had been their death sentence.

but then they had been reborn from the ashes and her whole world view had been shaken. her parents had given of themselves to bring them back and she no longer saw her power as something to shy away from. her parents had believed in magic. had believed in the worth of her and her brother and what they could bring to the world. and she vowed to never seek to be anything but what she was again.

to never be weak and powerless again.

greenish-blue hues move over the fire and meet the human speaking to her. was she not making a human connection now? perhaps once she believed being what she was separated her from the human world. perhaps in the respect that she lived longer than humans it did. but this war and the people she had begun to meet made her begin to question such. maybe making connections with humans wasn't about how long you knew them or preventing one's self from becoming close because of the eventual loss but the value of the time spent with them. no, she did not think having magic equated to a lack of forming human connections, genuine ones. not if she didn't allow it to.

after all, while it had never been the intention, she cared for-- no, she could acknowledge it was more than that now as she ran her hand through the young boy's curls, she held a motherly love for auggie in a way she had never believed she could possess before-- and tended to the human child more often than not these days. sometimes the intensity of which she believed she would protect the boy scared even her for if there was a choice between him and someone else, she held no doubt of what she would choose even if it could mean burning the world in the process. but did her love toward the boy not equate to a genuine connection? and was her magic not the very thing which could allow her to protect him? was such love not a normal part of life?

"why can i not have both?" she questions, gaze drifting over the man's shoulder to see the major approaching. ah, perhaps she would not have to carry auggie back to his tent herself after all. still, she continues, looking back at the questioning soldier without care for the major hearing her words, for they were truth and she would not deny her connection to the boy at this point even if she has no idea what it would look like once this war was done.

"is there some book of rules which state i can not have magic and hold connections with humans who i love? that i can not still have something of a normal life with them?" and with that she looks down upon auggie and begins to shift him gently without waking him, picking him up so that his head falls to her shoulder. strangely, the heat of the campfire seems to affect her less, a different kind of warmth washing over her as she raises from their perch on the log and moves to meet tallmadge. "come to collect the little terror? i think him, cora, and furgus just about defeated half the soldiers in camp charging them while wearing your helmet today."

@honorhearted

[cuteniaarts]

Rough concept of 14-year-old Haya, which I’d call a quick sketch if I hadn’t spent almost two hours on it

Alternatively: Photos taken moments before disaster (read as: a few months before her parents died)

[teaboot]

One time my mom took me to a hibachi grill with a bunch of her friends and if you've never been to a hibachi grill basically the draw is that theres a bunch of interactive performance stuff done by the cook who cooks for you at your table, and one of the tricks they did at this one was take a squeeze bottle full of liquor and shoot it into your mouth across the table (with permission)

And now at our table my mom explained this because it was my first time going, and she wanted to make sure to warn me it was liquor because she knows I don't drink- she just said "if he offers to shoot at your mouth, say no because it's alcohol".

And so the chef does his thing and it's all very impressive, but the time does come where he pulls out this squeeze bottle of booze and asks me if I wanna try

I of course say no, because I really don't do alcohol, so he moves on to someone else

And I watch, and slowly come to understand that this is some sort of game, because once someone is drinking from the continuous flow the chef starts counting "ONE! TWO! THREE!"

I realize that we're trying to see who can keep drinking the liquor from three feet away without choking or spilling, and its a bummer cause i kinda wanna try and I CAN'T

But he goes around the table with everyone there, and I think my mom makes it to three, one friend makes it to five, I think my brother got to three as well, and he comes back to me

And I'm REALLY bummed out now but I will not drink alcohol, so I sort of sadly repeat that I can't when he pulls out a SECOND BOTTLE and grins and goes "juice?"

And Im like FUCK YEAH LET'S GO and I'm a bit worried he's gonna spray it into my eye or something but he doesn't, it hits me right at the back of the throat, and I start drinking while the whole fucking table counts "ONE! TWO! THREE!"

And like

It just sorta

Kept going?

And Im looking at the chef and he starts freaking out by the time we get to six, and at around seven I kinda start looking around and my auntie is staring back in shock, my brother is laughing his ass off and my mom has her face in her hands

And then at like nine or ten it gets like. Super tense and quiet, and only the chef is still counting

And I guess it got too much for even him cause we're at eleven and I don't believe in quitting early and it is almost painful how awkward it's getting

So he cuts me off at twelve and raises his hands in the air and everyone else cheers and claps like a dumb movie

and I just sit back in my seat to look back at my mother staring at me surrounded by everyone she knows, bright fucking red in the face and choking with honest to god tears in her eyes and she puts her face back in her palms and starts chanting "I don't want to know. I don't want to know. I don't want to know"

So I give her the biggest, proudest grin and tell her, "I won."

So now every time something suggestive happens in a movie, or in conversation, or something shocking happens around us and she goes to jokingly cover my ears, I just ask her, "Remember when I won?" And she goes face-down and groans, because I know EXACTLY how she thinks I trained to develop that particular skill and she HATES knowing that about me

The truth is though, I'm a whole ass 28 year old virgin. I've never so much as kissed anyone in my life. I had no idea I could do that trick until that exact moment

But she doesn't know that, and I'm never gonna tell her

[arabellasfvv]

When you blow johnny and just keep gagging and choking he'll most likely laugh at you. But because you don't just let things slide–that man needs to be put in his place anyway–you pull out one of your dildos, and tell him to suck it. He laughs incredulously at first, though not totally opposedto the idea. But once he saw the expression on your face he knows you're serious. And he was never one to turn down a challenge.

Safe to say he's gagging like a bitch. Can barely take half the thing without tears stinging at his eyes. And if you're mean you tell him, "well, that's pathetic, baby." In a mocking tone. (lt makes his cock twitch dw) and if you're even meaner you decide to 'help out'. Forcing the toy down his throat with your hand. Do it over and over. Like he does when fucking your throat without consideration. He's a mess by the end, sweaty, eyes red with tears flowing from them, drooled all over the toy, down on himself like some mutt. But some time during it he came without even being touched.

He doesn't make fun of you again.

[whatsverstappeningnow]

how f1 drivers react

to girlfriend!reader wearing a necklace with their race number on it (some slightly suggestive lines included) (requested)

drivers mentioned: MV33, LN4, OP81, AA23, CS55, CL16, LH44, GR63

max verstappen

The sun shines in through the kitchen window in golden strings of light. It's a quiet day at home, with no plans till the afternoon and no need to hurry there. Still, you've already dressed yourself in a new summer dress you've bought. The material flows down over your hips, swishing as you turn in the mirror and then as you walk from your bedroom to the living room to show Max your chosen outfit. But you dress isn't the only new item you're wearing.

You'd bought it secretly. A suprise. One you hoped he'd love.

Max spots the necklace right away, his gaze flicking from your eyes, to the dress and then landing on it with a sudden, knowing smirk curling at his mouth. From where's he's sat on the couch, he leans in just a little, elbows on his knees and head resting on his upturned hand. His voice low and teasing as he speaks.

“Well, well, look at you,” he says, voice thick with amusement and something a bit more dangerous.

"You like my new dress?" You ask, giving him a quick spin, hands in the air for a moment and then settling on your waist. His gaze lingers over you with careful precision.

"Not the only new thing you've got on," he muses, tilting his head to the side slightly, "Where'd you get that?"

"Ordered it," you say simply, as if it were nothing at all, as you readjust the necklace chain.

“Careful, schat. Trying to make sure no one forgets who you belong to, huh?”

He stands, slowly, holding your gaze. He stalks towards you, one hand reaching out to hold your waist, the other fingering the chain of the necklace, his eyes lingering on the number and then dragging up to meet your gaze.

You catch the challenge in his eyes and flash him a grin in return. “Maybe I just like the idea of having you close, all the time.”

The teasing in his expression softens in an instant. His fingers gently brush the pendant as he looks at you, eyes warm and serious now.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, voice softer, “I like the sound of that.”

He pulls you into a quick kiss, no dramatics, just the softnes of quiet love, then he lets his forehead rest against yours.

“You don't know what you do to me,” he whispers into the small space between the two of you, his eyes resting closed like he's still processing the necklace and the dress. It's barely any distsnce at all, yet it feels like a mile. You can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips.

"I think I've got some idea." You smile. He does too.

lando norris

He notices it while you’re lying beside each other on the couch, limbs tangled up together in a familar way, and watching some random movie you're only half paying attention to. It's background noise more than anything. You couldn't care less though, just being with Lando was enough to make you relax.

It's about halfway through the movie, with some museum scene plays across the screen, when he notices the new shiny necklace hanging around your neck.

“Wait—hang on. Is that… is that my number?” His voice, though scratchy and slow from tiredness, goes up slightly as he speaks. The little queaks of excitement in his words make you smile.

You can only nod, biting back a smile, desperate to see his reaction. You'd bought the necklace on a whim a few nights ago and were lucy it had arrived while Lando wasn't home. The fun was the suprise of it, after all.

He stretches forward for the remote, sat on the coffee table infront of you two, and pauses the movie dramatically.

“You love me.”

You blink, a small laugh bubbling in your chest at his sudden and sombre declaration.

“I mean, yeah, obviously—”

“No, no. This is serious,” he says, grinning from ear to ear like an madman, all teeth and dimples. “You got a number four on your chest. That’s, like, actual dedication.”

You raise a brow, amused. “It’s just a necklace.”

“Just a—?” He gasps, scandalised, hand to his chest and all, like you’ve personally offended him. “That’s my number. You realise what you’ve done, right? You’re basically branded now.”

“Branded?”

He nods solemnly, though his eyes are still sparkling with excitement. “Yup. You wear that out and people are gonna know. Like, know know. I won’t even have to introduce you anymore. They’ll see it and go, ‘Ah, that’s Lando’s girl.’”

You can't help but laugh now, full bellied and joyful, and he grins wider as he hears it, if that’s even possible.

He tackles you into the cushions, kissing your neck with soft pecks. “Next step: matching tattoos. Just saying.”

"Lando!" you cry out with a huff of amusement, knowing he's entirely joking.

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding..." His quiet for a moment, then looks up at you again with a cheeky grin. "Unless..."

"Lando, no. If you want everyone to know you’re mine, I have a few other ways in mind..." Your hand reaches out to his collarbone, then traces soft lines up to his neck and jawline. Your touch is hot and familiar, slow and intentional. You can see him swallow hard as you do it.

"Oh, yeah? Maybe you could show me them. Just to make sure we're on the same page, love."

oscar piastri

Coffee dates with Oscar are a constant in your life. There's a small shop around the corner from his place that you love to visit on quiet, sunny days. When the sun rose that morning, seemingly shinning brighter than normal, and with a particually joyful sparkle, you knew it was a coffee date day.

It was the perfect time to show Oscar your new piece of jewellery.

He notices the necklace while you’re talking, halfway through a sip of his coffee, eyes slipping from your gaze to the number hanging around you neck. The unexpected, but not undesired, sight causes him to do a double take.

“Wait…” he leans in, interupting your sentence, though you don't mind. You only smile softly as he squints slightly, slowly taking in the sight infront of him, then blinks up at you with slight disbelief. “Is that... 81. My number?”

You nod just once, a little shy, and pick up the charm that dangle from the end of the chain, holding it closer for him to see. He leans in to meet you halfway. But before you can say anything else, a deep blush spreads across his face. He cheeks go an adorable shade of pink as you watch the cogs turn in his brain.

His mouth opens like he has a joke ready, but nothing comes out except a breathy little laugh.

“That’s… kinda cute,” he mutters, eyes still fixed on it like he’s really trying to quickly process all the implications of you going outside wearing his number so casually. “But, like, uh, cool cute. Really cool.” He clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck.

When you smile and say it’s because you like having him close all the time, he looks down, shaking his head with a small, dimply smile. The blush on his cheeks remains, though he looks less caught off guard than before.

“You’re gonna make me soft,” he murmurs, his hands reaching out to hold yours across the table. Then under his breath, he adds, “Will you wear it to the race next week? Please. Even just under your jumper.”

You agree, of course. You hadn't bought the necklace to hide it away, and you tell him as much. Your words just make him smile and pull you hand closer towards him to plant a gentle kiss to your knuckles. Then it's your turn to blush, squeezing his hand with a smile.

And when you do wear it the next week, proudly walking into the paddock hand in had with Oscar, his smile is brighter than any coffee date day sun has ever been.

carlos sainz

Carlos, the gentleman that he is, loved to plan spontaneous dates. One more occasions than one, what you thought was going to be a quiet night at home had turned into the romantic night out. Candles on resturant tables, hands holding your and taking out the chair for you, the whole deal. Which was how you once again found yourself picking out a fancy outfit, wit no idea which resterant you were going to.

It was sweet of him, though you did wish you had a little more to go on than just wear something pretty, not so hard you you, yes? to go off of while trying to pick your outfit. Settling on an old favourite outfit, you slipped into it with ease, only calling Carlos in when you realised you needed help zipping up the back. Upon hearing his name, he pattered into the room obediently, already dressed in his dress shirt and pants, look perfectly put together.

"Gorgeous, cariño," he whispered into your ear after doing as you asked, "Anything else you need, my love?"

With a barely concelled smirk, you went over to your jewellery box and pulled out your new necklace.

"Help me put this on?" you asked innocently, walking over to him, placing it delicately in his hand and turning around, patiently awaiting his reaction.

“¿Qué es esto?” he asks, his voice light and breathy.

You smile, though it's more of a smirk than anything, but don't turn around. “A little something I got, it's new.”

“Number fifty five?” he says, fingertips ghosting along the back of your neck as he put it on for you, then settling his touch onto your hips to admire your outfit in the mirrors reflection, his head resting on your shoulder. “Dios mío, I’ve turned you into a fangirl, hm?”

“I've always been a fan.”

His brows lift, amused and smug, head tilted slightly to the side. “Of me? Or just the accent?

“Mostly the arms,” you quip, resting your hands ontop of his.

He laughs, pulling you closer and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. “That’s permanent, right? Not just for today? Because I kind of love seeing my number right there.”

“So everyone will know I'm yours?” you joke, voice light.

He kisses your temple, voice low. “Sí. I like it that way. I'm yours. And you're mine.”

alex albon

He’s on his way out the door, backpack on and car keys in hand, when he finally notices it hanging from your neck.

You had it on all day and waited patiently at breakfast, then on your walk together, then through lunch, and then while he was getting ready to leave your apartment. for him to notice, but he simply hadn’t. The whole day. That was, until now.

You we're glad he finally had, you would have hated to have spoiled the fun and justed showed it to him yourself after going through all the trouble of buying it secretly and hiding in in the back of your pjamama drawer.

Oh, well. At least he had spotted it before leaving, now the fun could begin.

His mouth drops open into the perfect little ‘o’ shape as he stares at the little shinny 23 hanging down from around your neck. His eyes are glued to the necklace, one outstretched finger pointing at it.

“Wait, what is that?”

You smile, and wave your hands around it with fluttering fingers. “A new necklace. Nice, right?”

He squints, then closes the front door softly and steps closer to you. “Is that my number?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You smirk, and tilt your head slightly to the side, trying to hold in your laugh at the stunned, suprised look on his face.

He dramatically clutches his chest, standing right in front of you now. “Too late. You’ve turned me into a puddle. I've melted.”

Then he leans in, eyes glowing with mischief as his hands reach out to grab your upper arms. “Just promise me one thing. Please?”

His voice drips with glee.

“What?”

“If someone, some guy, ever comes up to you in public... ask for your number or something, you better point to that necklace, and then say my name. Clearly. Loudly. Alex. Alex Albon. 23. Got it? Yeah?”

You roll your eyes, laughing at his bright smile. “You’re unbelievable."

“Unbelievably lovable, yes. Hence you having my number arounf your neck.”

You could only laugh harder at his smug expression and mock dramatic tone. After pressing a soft kiss to his lips, you reply, "You're so stupid. Truly.”

"Stupidly in love with you? Definitely."

"You're lucky I love you too."

"Luckiest guy in the world, I know."

charles leclerc

You'd been wearing it for a few days already, under jumpers and high necked shirts. it felt like a little secret, a constant reminder that Charles was with you even when we wasn't actually next to you. You weren't exactly keeping it a secret, per say, but you hadn't yet put it on display.

He notices it at the most random time, while you’re brushing your teeth, hair up, wearing one of his old shirts. The collor of the shirt, well-worn and stretch, dipped over your collarbone and revealling the shiny little necklace you were wearing under neither..

He squints, rubbing his eye from tiredness, or maybe slight disbelief. “Sixteen?”

You nod around a mouthful of toothpaste, toothbrush sticking out one side of your mouth, the edge of your lips curling up into a small smirk.

“Mon dieu,” he mutters, half teasing, half stunned, coming to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around possessively around your waist. He rests his weight onto you, curling into your warmth. “You’re more sentimental than me.”

You spit, rinse, and smile, Charles never moving from his place behind you. It's a purely domestic scene, a moment that reminds you how comfortbale you exist in eachother's orbit. “I wanted something cute to remind me of you. Something to keep with me when your away.”

He watches you through the mirror, soft eyes watching you move with a tired ease, hands pressing comforting circles into your hips. A constant warm presence. “You should have told me, I would loved to buy it for you. You deserve many pretty things, chérie.”

You lean back into him, letting his body mold to yours. You fit perfectly into eachothers embrace.

“I didn’t need you to buy it,” you murmur, reaching down to toy with the charm. “It felt more special this way. Like it was mine to choose.”

He hums into the crook of your neck, nose brushing softly against your skin. “Still,” he says, voice low and a little hoarse from sleep, “I would’ve added matching earrings. A whole Charles Leclerc collection.”

You snort, turning around to look him in the eyes, hands reaching out to hold his face between your palms. “I don’t need anything else. Just you.”

His expression shifts, tender and quietly overcome. He presses a slow kiss to your lips, then you forehead, and pulls you against him. “You have me. Even when I’m not here. Especially then.”

There’s a pause. A quiet that isn’t awkward or heavy, just full of feeling. He looks down at the necklace again, then back at you with a soft smile, one you only ever see when he's looking at you.

Charles sighs, breath warm and ticklish against your skin. “Sixteen looks good on you,” he says eventually. And those simple words hold within them a hundred different meanings you can't wait to dream about all night.

"I'll have to wear it more often, then," you say simply, and the words make him smile even wider.

lewis hamilton

You and Lewis had gotten to the truly domestic era of your relationship. You had keys to each other’s apartments, and you knew you could let yourselves into each other's spaces. So when Lewis texted you, saying he had work to do at home, but you were welcome to come and sit with him while he did it, exist in his orbit for the afternoon, you were soon letting yourself in his front door. Any chance to spend time with Lewis was an opportunity you took, escpeccialy given his busy schedule.

Lewis notices it the second you walk in, even if you don’t realise he’s looking. He’s lounging on the sofa with his laptop resting on his lap, reading something, probably reviewing data notes or one of the endless supply of emails he recieved, but the moment his eyes flick up and land on your necklace, all his focus slips away from him.

He closes the laptop slowly, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips, subtle and calm. The kind of smile that makes your chest ache with warmth and familiarity. Lewis' smiles had a way of making you feel whole.

“That’s for me?” he asks gently, nodding toward your necklace. His voice is quiet, curious. His gaze lingers on the number, just visible beneath the open collar of your shirt.

You glance down, fingers brushing over it self-consciously. “I thought it suited me,” you say, only half teasing.

He stands, putting the laptop on the coffee table infront of him, and crosses the room with unhurried ease.

One hand comes up to cradle the charm between his fingers, his thumb gliding over the number as though memorising it by touch.

“It suits you better than me,” he murmurs, a hint of joking in his tone, eyes lifting to yours. "I’m flattered.”

"Flattered?" you said, giggling slightly at his word choice.

"Well, yeah. A pretty girl is wearing my number, how else should I feel?" He lets the necklace fall back against your skin, then adds with a little smirk, “Might need to get something with your initials now. Y’know, to keep things balanced.”

You smirk, letting your hand rest on his chest. “What, like a bracelet? Property of...”

“Necklace. Tattoo. Your name embroidered on my socks... I’m not picky.” He shrugs and sighs dramatically, clearly enthralled by his own joke.

You lean into his embrace, shaking your head as he pulls you into a sweet kiss, his arms wrapping around you with familiar ease and comfort.

“You’re such a sap,” you murmured into his hoodie, resting your head on his chest as you speak.

“And you’re mine,” he said, grinning down at you, hand lingering on your lower back. “So I think we’re even.”

george russell

It’s a lazy Sunday morning spent at your usual breakfast spot. Just off a main road, the quiet atmosphere was the perfect place to unwind and relax on a slow morning. You were dressed casually, sunglasses pushed up on your head for look more than necessity, and your new favorite necklace catching the light and resting around your neck. The necklace, more than anything, you hoped he’d notice.

You slide into the booth across from him, pressing a kiss to his cheek first before sitting down, dropping your bag and stretching your arms out in front of you with a sleepy smile. You hadn't arrived together, George having to go to an extra early meeting and you prefering to sleep in on such a gorgeous morning. But it made it the perfect time to show off the new addition to your jewellery collection.

George doesn’t say anything at first, but you watch as his eyes widen slightly as he spots it. Instead of immediately reacting, he takes a slow moment to sip his coffee, watching you with that knowing look that makes your stomach flip.

Then, with a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, he tilts his head and says, “You’re really trying to make this obvious, huh?”

You glance across at him, shrugging and feigning confusion. “I don't know what you mean.”

He gestures toward your necklace with his half-finished coffee. “The whole ‘I’m madly in love with a certain F1 driver’ energy you’ve got going on with that necklace.”

You laugh, resting your chin on your upturned hand. “Maybe I just thought it looked cute. Favourite number. Totally nothing to do with you, sorry.”

“Mm,” he hums, matching your posture with his head on his own hand and leaning towards you slightly with a growing grin. “Or maybe you just wanted the world to know you’re taken.”

“Think it's working?”

“Oh, definitely,” he says, eyes gleaming and a light edge colouring his words. “But now I’m going to have to step up my game. Watch out. I might start wearing your initials. Embroidered. Everywhere. Just to make sure everyone knows I'm definitely off the market.”

You snort at his dramatics, but match his teasing tone. “George Russell, turning up to the paddock with my name monogrammed onto his fireproofs? Oh, the scandal!”

He grins, and laughs as he leans back in his chair. “You think I won’t?”

You roll your eyes and sigh, but you’re blushing now, and he can see it. He reaches across the table to tap your necklace gently with one finger and intertwined your hands with the other.

“It looks good on you,” he says, voice quieter now, sincere, like it’s a secret he doesn't want the rest of the room to hear. “I like knowing you carry a little piece of me around with you.”

Your smile softens, the moment suddenly feeling much softer than before. “I always do. Not just the necklace.”

He grins, like he’s won something more important than a race. “Still getting the monogrammed suit, though.”

“You’re such a menace.”

“A menace in love,” he says proudly, then flags down the waiter like nothing's happened.

taglist: @verogonewild

(comment if you would like to be added!)

[claire-starsword]

Bloodline of the Sacred Dragons - Chapter 1-4 & 1-5

They only boarded a ship three days later.

It wasn't because Camallia took time to recover. Fortunately, it took her only a day to be able to walk on her own. Perhaps because she had undergone harsh training as a battle priest. Her gorgeous body had no flaw or weakness.

The issue was not the people, but the ships.

The monsters who apparently attacked Camallia's ship had stayed in the waters. Many small fishing boats were attacked and lost. The island country of Waral had sent an official warning to both Uranbatol and Rudo, urging them to be careful.

Because of that, no sailor was moving an inch away from the harbor. None of them could stand the thought of their precious ship getting destroyed, especially after seeing the last shipwreck. Of course they had lost their nerve at that sight.

However, Karin's father, the leader of Rudo Village, had given them a real lifeline. Levering his position, he got the captain of the ship that brought Krin back to action. What they agreed upon was to sail southwest through the bay, and then head to the town of Rindo. That way, they would circumvent the dangerous region.

Bleu, Camallia, Krin and Karin boarded the ship. Marron insisted to the very end that he would come along, but he couldn't find anyone he trusted to do his gatekeeping duties in his place. Until the day they departed, he kept telling Cerberus to protect her master well.

The ship set sail safely, and took the sea route to Rindo's harbor. Should everything go well, they would arrive in a few days.

There was a rowing boat up in the deck, covered with a grey cloth. Karin was sat on its edge, entertaining herself by kicking her feet in the air, swaying dangerously. Bleu warned her a billion times that if she fell and got knocked out, no one would find her there until they reached land. She replied that she wouldn't mess up like that.

"It's my first time going to West Rune. Could it be, that it's the same for you too?" She asked Bleu as she puffed her chest, taking in the breeze.

"Yeah, it's a first for me too. That's why I'm a little bit scared."

"Oh c'mon. With your wings, you could cross between the lands any time you wanted. Aah, I wish I had some of that."

She stared at his wings, a bit envious.

"Don't be silly. Not like I can lend them to you if you asked. Besides, it's very hard to keep flying for that long. I won't say it's impossible but it's so absurd I don't feel like trying."

"Oh, but birds seem to do it just fine," Karin narrowed her eyes at him, as if that meant dragons had to be capable as well.

"That's because they are lightweight. I'm bigger and heavier, so it's more trouble than you think."

"Hehe, how much are you stuffing in that belly, I wonder."

Karin said he should try it.

"Well, I guess today it will be a bunch of fish."

Bleu smiled a bit, and Karin joined him. They tried to understand each other's feelings through those smiles.

Bleu had some regrets. He needed Krin and Camallia to come along. But he did not plan for Karin to come as well.

Of course, he objected to it. However, taking her as a representative of Rudo was one of the conditions the village chief had agreed to when it came to getting the ship, so Bleu could do nothing about it. Of course, it was also clear that Karin had convinced her father to help behind the scenes. By persuading or intimidating him, Bleu wasn't sure which.

Bleu questioned himself on why didn't he object more to her coming along. Starting from the fact that demons were attacking the Sacred Dragons and Camallia, this journey wasn't going to be without danger.

He didn't want to involve her, who was not a Sacred Dragon, in the problems surrounding the Manual. He was plagued by self-reprimanding thoughts on getting her wrapped up in this. He was a Sacred Dragon. And protecting the Manual was a Sacred Dragon's one and only duty. It was not something they could burden anyone else with.

With that, Bleu began to get determined to cross the great ocean and save his fellow brethren. Whether bringing the Manual with him or not, he could not let them die without doing anything.

But, perhaps that was a form of escape for him. To run away to others of his race. And once he got to them, would he ever come back? From a land of Sacred Dragons, back to where humans like Karin were…

Karin would never forgive him for that. Maybe crossing the ocean would be their parting of ways. So, he wished she hadn't come along. He didn't want to hear her protests.

Bleu wanted to set out without saying anything. But Karin wouldn't take that quietly.

Looking at her, he saw both her current smiling face, and her angry face from back when they were kids. Her once soft and plump face changed to a slender adult one. What else had time changed, and what did it leave untouched…?

Once a child scared of everything, how much had he grown up as well?

"Why did you come along?" Bleu decided to ask her.

"Because I won't let go of you," Karin answered. "I've known you since I was a little girl. I can see through you, always. You're planning to leave me behind, and there's no way I'm accepting that. Things are different from ten years ago. I hate to stay behind waiting, that's why I became strong enough to follow you."

Bleu was at a loss on how to respond to that.

"It's not like I wanted to leave you behind."

Karin's face scrunched slightly, wondering how true that was.

"If I let you go like before, you don't know when you'll come back to Dragonia…"

"I'm no vagabond," that's all Bleu said.

"But do you know how long it took for you to come back when you went with the Shining Force? It was way more than it should have been to just cross back to the north. So don't tell me you never thought of leaving."

Bleu found the determination to join the Shining Force because he wanted to protect Karin, with all his heart. He thought he could bring peace to the world before the danger reached her.

At the time, he thought Karin had been happy to see him off. But maybe that was just what he wanted to think. He couldn't imagine how she had felt while waiting for him to return. This grown up Karin was not a girl contented with just waiting around. She had become stronger of her own volition.

Having said everything she wanted to, Karin became quiet.

"Sir Bleu."

Going around a pile of rope near the mast, Camallia approached the two. She still had her circlet with the red jewel and her long black hair, which seemed to be faintly tinged with blue, and wore a deep blue tunic, with a lustrous purple surcoat over it. The golden embroidery in it was likely Volcanon's insignia. She also wore long leather gloves and boots the color of cinnamon.

"Have I interrupted something?" She asked, looking at Karin. Karin smiled at her and said no.

"Seems you two have something to talk about, should I give you some space?"

As she said that, Karin hopped off the boat's edge. Her lace-up boots made a soft noise as she hit the deck. The unbound cloth covering it turned over with the wind, exposing the emptiness inside for a moment.

"Please do, if it's not a bother. I have something to discuss with the Sacred Dragon," she politely dismissed Karin.

Karin herself had offered to leave, so she had no excuse to refuse. Against her will, she left.

"What you're going to say is something Karin shouldn't hear, I guess?"

"No, it is nothing like that. I just wish to speak with you, Sacred Dragon."

Confirming with the corner of her eye that Karin was gone, Camallia began to speak.

"Just call me Bleu," he said, frowning at how formal she was.

"There is something I wish to verify… Sacred Dragon — that is, Sir Bleu, I hear you are the youngest Sacred Dragon, born not long ago to your parents. Is that true?"

"Of course," Bleu answered, and then asked back, "what's the problem with that?"

"It is not a problem, but it is the first time I see a descendant, a Sacred Dragon of a new generation. The Sacred Dragons of Parmecia are said to be immortals with no successors. I was, how should I say, very surprised at you being a special case."

"That sounds very different from us. Though it's true that I am a bit of a strange case."

Bleu laughed a bit at how she had struggled to say that. She added that she wouldn't word it like that.

"It took a long time until I was finally born. Maybe the Sacred Dragons of Parmecia just didn't have the same time yet."

"You needed time, to be born?" Camallia asked. The feeling that such a thing wasn't all it took lurked deep in Bleu's heart as well. Why had he been the only one to be born? What kind of creatures were the Sacred Dragons, what kind of creature was he?

"Once we meet the great Sacred Dragons of Parmecia, perhaps the mystery of your birth will be unraveled as well, sir. There might be answers within the Manual as well. As of now, we can do nothing but hope."

Having inquired what she wanted to, Camallia left.

She figured more time was needed until she could find the answer.

5

The eastern wind continued to carry the ship with no issues through the night.

"Yes. I couldn't believe it, but he is truly a second generation Sacred Dragon," Camallia, alone in the deck, watched the reflection of the stars in the ocean, whispering low so that no one could hear.

"…Certainly, he might be able to fill the place of the lost warriors. That one is without a doubt, obsessing about number and power."

Within the reflection of the stars in the waves, there were two notable lights shining. They were like eyes, one silver and one crimson, blinking in the water's surface.

"However, I feel something about that Sacred Dragon that has gone beyond the gods' expectations. Perhaps that one also cannot conceive of someone like him. We should keep him under our control somewhat."

The stars blinked once more.

"…Understood. As you desire, our great leader. I will bring the Sacred Dragon to Parmecia, and to you, my lord…"

Camallia pressed hard on her head.

The lights of those stars in the ocean faded away and disappeared, as if their face had moved away from the surface.

She let out a heavy sigh, brushing away her dark hair as if trying to cool off her flushed cheeks.

The wind blew, caressing her neck as her hair fluttered.

Camallia rested her back on the ship's edge, bending to gaze at the stars above.

The night had just begun. The journey had just begun. Yes, everything would begin from here onward. And who knows what the ending would be.

She grinned widely, excited for what she also couldn't predict.

To next part>

[nightingale-prompts]

Lazarus What?!

Phantom pinched the bridge of his nose as he tried to take in what he was just told.

"Explain it one more time. I need to know if I got this right." He said his frustration mounted.

They were standing at the edge of the Lazarus pit. The Ghost hero had been searching for wells formed from ectoplasm on this planet.

"We-" Superman spoke first.

"YOU SAW A BIG FUCKING POOL OF OTHERWORLDY GOO AND DECIDED TO SWIM IN IT?!" Phantom exploded.

"Well, it does heal and revive people," Flash said hidden behind Wonder Woman.

"Well that makes it perfectly safe and healthy for you doesn't it," Danny said sarcastically. "It's not safe at all! You people are just tossing corpses into this thing and think it's a miracle that people come out alive! This stuff is a waste pit made from the leakage from my realm!"

"Waste? Like as in-" Clark's face gritted in disgust.

"Not like human waste but still waste. Our bodies take in new ectoplasm and the old tainted stuff flows out. Like a fish breaths with it's gills. The old material tends to collect in different spots like a dump of toxic waste. And you people are bathing in the used materials." Phantom explained.

"And why is it so dangerous." Batman finally spoke up after considering the information.

Phantom sighed.

"The reason why the goop is bad is because it's tainted. As in it has remnants of the ghosts that expel it. When you dump the corpse of a freshly dead person in the goop it melds with the person giving them the ability to persist beyond death and linking them back to their soul. That sounds good, but the soul is now infected with the random assortment of attributes of the ghosts that are in the goop. It won't do much to you though. Barely affecting you in any negative way. Now if you keep putting bodies in the goop you create a big problem as the ectoplasm is invected with the freshly dead's issues. If someone evil, vengeful, or unbalanced is put in the waters parts of them will stay behind. Constantly using the ectoplasm will cause someone to go insane as it corrupts them. If someone dies painfully enough, it will also persist in the ecto and create a revenant. Like an avenging super soldier hellbent on revenge so their soul can rest. The ectoplasm will also become less potent over time, and eventually, the only thing that can come out is zombies." Phantom tried his best to spell everything out like everyone present were idiots.

"That explains many things." Batman said pinching the bridge of his nose.

"WHAT DO YOU MEAN! ARE YOU TELLING ME YOU ALREADY DID THAT?!" Phantom was turning red now.

[fantasybots]

I FINISHED THE FINAL CHAPTERS OF THE MOON AND FINALITY. CRIED. OVERJOYED. HUA NEEDS TO VISIT KIANA IMMEDIATELY.