#and there is a bit of terror for a moment

[ari-ana-bel-la]

Hi Ari, I love your stories. I was wondering if you could write something about Lando and his teenage daughter where he teaches him how to drive… but she's more reckless than him.

It's called talent

The sun was shining over Monaco, and the air had that lazy, warm summer feel to it—the kind of day meant for lounging in the pool, sipping something cold, and definitely not teaching a teenager how to drive. And yet, here Lando was, standing beside a tiny red Mini Cooper, looking at his 17-year-old daughter like she was a ticking time bomb.

"You ready?" he asked, offering her the keys.

Yn looked at him with the most mischievous grin he had ever seen. "Born ready."

That should have been his first red flag.

“No, like actually ready,” Lando clarified. “Have you read the manual I gave you?”

“What manual?” she blinked.

“The one titled ‘So You Don’t Crash Your Dad’s Expensive Car’—I left it on your bed.”

“Oh, that,” she waved a hand. “I thought that was a joke.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Oh.”

Lando sighed and handed over the keys. “Just… remember, it’s a Mini. Not an F1 car. We go slow. Like turtle slow. Got it?”

Yn nodded solemnly. “Understood.”

Five minutes later, she was doing 60 on a narrow residential street.

“YN, SLOW DOWN—THERE’S A CAT—THAT’S A CAT, OH MY GOD—”

“Chill, Dad! I saw the cat!”

“You saw the cat and still did nothing?!”

“I was giving it a thrill,” she grinned, keeping her hands at ten and two like a perfect little driver while going dangerously over the speed limit.

Lando was gripping the edge of his seat so tightly, his knuckles turned white. “Okay, pull over. Pull over right now before my soul leaves my body.”

Yn huffed but pulled over—kind of. The car bumped the curb, mounted it slightly, then rolled to a stop halfway in a bush.

"Perfect parking," she announced proudly.

Lando just blinked. "You... you parked in a hedge."

“It’s nature’s parking spot,” she shrugged. “Eco-friendly.”

“Get out,” Lando said weakly. “I need a moment to realign my chakras.”

Yn stepped out and watched him crumble onto a bench, head in hands.

“You know,” she said thoughtfully, “you’re kind of dramatic.”

Lando peeked at her through his fingers. “Dramatic? Dramatic?! I’ve risked my life on track dozens of times, been nearly t-boned at 300 kph, and nothing—NOTHING—has come close to the terror of watching my child take a corner like it’s Eau Rouge.”

“I took it beautifully,” Yn defended. “You’re just not used to my style.”

“What style? Reckless abandon with a hint of ‘I saw this in Fast & Furious’?”

She grinned. “Exactly!”

He groaned and pointed to the car. “Okay, new plan. We drive to an empty parking lot, and you can try again. No pedestrians. No cats. No trees.”

“Boring,” she mumbled, but got back in the car anyway.

The parking lot, thank God, was truly empty. Just wide-open space and a few faded lines. Lando climbed back into the passenger seat, took a deep breath, and handed her a water bottle.

“Hydrate,” he said. “Not because you need it, but because I need at least 30 seconds of peace.”

Yn took a sip, then slammed the bottle down into the cupholder like she was pitting.

“Alright,” she said. “Pit stop complete. Rejoining the race.”

“It’s not a race,” Lando muttered. “It’s a lesson. A very slow, very gentle, very careful lesson.”

Yn smiled sweetly. “Sure, sure.”

She proceeded to floor the gas, spinning the tires a bit before taking off in a wide arc across the lot. Lando let out something between a gasp and a scream.

“Did you just drift?!”

“No!” she yelled over the screeching tires. “I slid with confidence!”

“Oh my God, you’re me—but worse!”

“Thank you!” she called back.

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment!”

They fishtailed once more before she finally eased up on the accelerator. The car wobbled to a stop, and she looked at him expectantly.

“Well?” she asked. “How was that?”

Lando stared at her. “Terrifying. But... weirdly impressive?”

“Exactly,” she nodded. “You always told me driving was about feeling the car. I���m feeling it.”

“You’re violating it,” he corrected. “The car has rights.”

After fifteen more minutes of watching his child whip donuts in a car not meant for donuts, Lando declared a break.

They sat on the curb, each with a soda, Lando looking exhausted and Yn practically buzzing with energy.

“You sure you weren’t born on a racetrack?” he asked.

Yn smirked. “You tell me. You were there.”

“Yeah, and I thought I’d get a quiet, artsy kid who liked books.”

“You got a speed demon.”

“Who drives like a gremlin on Red Bull.”

“Red Bull gives you wiiings,” she sang, then shot him a devilish look. “Can we try the main road again?”

“No.”

“Come on!”

“No.”

“Pleeeeeease—”

“Absolutely not.”

So of course, fifteen minutes later, they were back on the main road.

Yn was doing… okay. Lando had convinced her to use the blinkers, at least. She still approached turns like she was setting up an overtake, but progress was progress.

“Okay, we’re going to do a parallel park now,” Lando said, pointing at a spot between two cars. “Nice and easy.”

Yn studied the spot. “It’s kinda tight.”

“You’ll fit.”

“Isn’t this why we have parking sensors?”

“Yes, but this is about learning—”

Yn floored it into reverse, twisted the wheel, and—miraculously—slid into the spot in a single, perfectly timed move.

Lando blinked. “Did you just… nail that?”

“I think I did,” she said casually. “Skill issue?”

Lando stared at her. “Okay, that was illegal levels of good. How?”

“Watched a TikTok.”

“Excuse me?”

“Yeah, this guy was like, ‘if you turn the wheel when the back wheel hits the curb line, you just vibe it in.’”

“You vibed it in?!”

She beamed. “Like butter.”

“I don’t know if I’m proud or deeply, deeply afraid.”

“Why not both?”

They kept driving, Lando slowly realizing that while Yn’s approach was… unconventional, she did have a natural instinct. She didn’t second-guess herself. Her reactions were quick. Maybe too quick.

At one point, she saw a yellow traffic light and instead of slowing down like a normal human being, she shouted “YOLO” and gunned it.

“WE DO NOT YOLO AT TRAFFIC LIGHTS,” Lando screamed.

“WE DO WHEN THEY’RE AMBER!”

“Amber means slow down!”

“Amber means commit!”

They made it through. Barely. Lando aged ten years.

“Okay, okay, I think that’s enough for today,” he muttered. “Let’s go home.”

Yn looked disappointed. “But we didn’t even get on the motorway.”

“YOU THINK I’M GOING TO LET YOU ON THE MOTORWAY?!” Lando shrieked. “That’s where real people drive! People with families!”

“I am your family.”

“And I’d like to keep you! Preferably alive!”

She pouted. “You’re such a dad.”

“Yeah, because you’re such a menace.”

They pulled into the driveway, the car only grazing the bushes slightly this time.

Lando stumbled out, clutching his chest. “Okay. We’re alive. The car’s alive. My sanity is… hanging by a thread, but technically alive too.”

Yn jumped out and stretched her arms above her head. “That was fun.”

“That was something.”

“I think I’m ready for my license.”

“You are not.”

“I’m gonna tell Mum you said I could.”

“She’ll call me and scream. Please don’t.”

Yn winked. “Only if you let me try the motorway next weekend.”

Lando stared at her like she had just suggested they rob a bank. “Absolutely not.”

She was already texting someone. “Too late. Told Uncle Daniel I did a drift.”

Lando froze. “Oh no.”

“Now he wants to come next time.”

Lando fell to his knees in the driveway. “Why, God? Why have you cursed me with adrenaline junkie genes?”

Yn patted his head. “Because you’re fun, Dad. And because you didn’t raise a quitter.”

“No,” he said, rising slowly to his feet. “I raised a goblin in sneakers.”

She grinned. “You love it.”

He sighed. “Unfortunately… yeah. I kinda do.”

“Motorway next week?”

“Only if you promise not to yell ‘YOLO’ at any point.”

“I can’t make that promise.”

“Then we’re taking the bus.”

“LAME.”

He opened the front door. “Better lame than crashed.”

Yn followed him in, already pulling up motorway driving tips on her phone. “Do you think you can draft on the motorway?”

Lando paused. “If you ask me that again, I will enroll you in go-kart school all over again.”

“I’ll win again.”

“Not the point!”

“Still counts.”

Lando flopped onto the couch with a groan, tossing the car keys far out of reach.

Being a father, he thought, was one hell of a ride.

Almost as wild as being in a car with Yn.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♥︎♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Authors Note: Hey loves. I hope you enjoyed reading this story. My requests are always open for you!

-♡○♡

[hanniescookie]

too handsome - lsm

pairing - seokmin x f!reader

genre/warnings - idol au, fluff, romance, pitcher seokmin cus i'm obsessed, kissing, skinship, use of petnames, somewhat bright-bubbly reader, down bad reader, a little insecure seokmin but it's all good

wc - 598

A/N - i think my brand of writing is just becoming something like projecting my need to call the boys beautiful into whatever i write 😭 i'm not sure how i feel about that yet, but this seokmin deserved a drabble!! 🥹

thank you @seokminfilm for the pictures omg you really saved my life 🤍🤍🤍

The moment Seokmin comes into your line of sight, you're running towards him with your arms wide open. His bright smile reaches his eyes as braces himself for the impact and holds you up as soon as you hug him.

“Hey love,” he mutters, making you tighten your arms around his neck. “Hi Seok, stop being soooo fine!”

He pauses for a second, putting you down on the ground with his eyebrows raised as if confirming what you said. You nod his doubt away, and he instantly breaks into a laughter of disbelief. “Cheesy much?”

“Not cheesy at all,” you persistently shake your head, tiptoeing and pressing a kiss on his nose. “I'm just so exhausted.”

Seokmin’s eyebrows pinch together in concern, his arms holding you a little closer. You find his instant worry so adorable that another tired sigh leaves you. “No. Don't worry. I'm okay. I’m just tired of you.”

Seokmin genuinely feels like the ground slipped beneath his feet.

His arms loosen a little around you, and a shaky gasp escapes past his pretty lips. “Love, are we okay? I'm sorry. Did I do something—”

You tiptoe again to place a lingering kiss on his lips, successfully shutting him up. When you pull away, Seokmin’s eyes are still wide and full of terror. You giggle. “I'm just tired of how handsome you are, Seok. Can you help with that?”

Seokmin continues to look at you in disbelief before his lips tilt in a charming smile. A subtle pout touches his lips, “You scared me!”

“I intended to,” you answer, dusting a little at his collar. “You look really really handsome today. And I'm mad that everybody gets to see it for free!”

He chuckles, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and walking ahead to sit on the spare bench. There's a little bit of doubt in the way Seokmin smiles at you, though he tries to hide it. You stand in between his legs, stopping him from making you sit with him. Before he can say anything, you furrow your brows. “Spill.”

“Hm?” He looks up at you, confused. You sigh, absentmindedly running your fingers along his shoulders. “I know something is bothering you. What is it?”

He smiles, shaking his head dismissively. Seokmin knows you know him like the back of your hand. He's better off sharing his worries with you than hiding from you.

“I just think I didn't do well today.” He says, his fingers fiddling randomly as he avoids meeting your eyes. “I practiced a lot, you know? But I just got nervous and went off-target.”

You smile almost fondly, holding his face and making him look up at you. “Did you enjoy it though?”

He blinks at you, not expecting the question, but nods nevertheless. “Yeah. I love doing this.”

“Exactly!” You beam at him, softly running your fingers in his hair to intentionally mess it up a bit. “That's what should matter. In my eyes, you did great anyway. I don't even care about all those professional players. To me, and to so many of your fans, you are the best.”

Seokmin breaks into a smile that hides his eyes completely, and you wish to make him smile like this every day of your life.

“Besides,” you lean down a little, brushing your nose against his. “Who cares if you went off target? You served looks. That's enough.”

Seokmin pulls you down by your waist, kissing you softly. “Thank you, love. You flatter me.”

“I can tear open the sky for you, honey. What's a little flattery?”

Seokmin laughs.

[pine-rhyme]

My most sensible prediction for Alecto is that at some point in the book, Alecto's soul will go into Noodle.

I really hope nothing bad will ever happen to Noodle but I think that her transfering to a non-human body will give her a very sweet moment of unbridled joy. We know Nona suffers from some sort of dysphoria, wishing she had more legs and finds hands a general nuisance. If anything I am rooting that Alecto will either find a way to transform herself or find another host because having been made as a Barbie is a masive disrespect to everything that she is.

And it might also save her from the fate of every cover character in this series and will survive to be there too in the epilogue.

Also it will be badass as hell and hilariously cartoonish for her to bite John's ass.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

What was in the blood.

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[captmuldoon]

Carol Maso - The Art Lover

[holy-havoc]

Dying was always a little bit easier than coming back.

Like a monk who spent days sitting outside in the dead of winter in nothing but his underclothes so he could learn how to ignore the cold, Hidan had spent years conditioning himself to accept the pain of fatal wounds. To overrule the panic that was triggered inside of his brain as it was slowly deprived of blood or oxygen. To relish in the sensation of a heart struggling to beat.

Instead of terror and desperation, he had taught himself to die gracefully. To go out with cool confidence, a grounded mind and absolute acceptance. Near complete mastery of his own reactions.

It was ironic considering this was the state of enlightenment that all Buddhist monks lived to achieve. Complete detachment and control. To shut your mind off to everything and stay dignified and focused on your higher path.

He wondered if the ones who had raised him had been rebirthed in another form. A constant cycle of end and beginning. It was a shame that the past lives were unable to retain any memories in the next ones. If only they could see him now.

For all their talk of karma it seemed even after all he had done, he had gotten the better deal. Instead of being destined to live a thousand lives in a thousand forms, he could keep the current one for as long as he was able. Actually able to learn something from his mistakes as opposed to repeating them blindly over and over again until they were lucky enough to get something right.

Such a stupid concept.

Even as a child he was able to see the futility in it all. It was no wonder he had left. Leaving behind the path of enlightenment that none ever seemed to actually reach to forge his own as a village Shinobi.

At least war was tangible. Kill or be killed. Protect or surrender. Fight or die. Simple concepts that one could actually touch, see and smell. The fabric of which the tapestry of life was painted on. The fundamentals of all living things.

It was not his fault that despite the blessing of a God much more generous and powerful than Buddha and a body that never seemed to stay dead; a soul that would never rest and a spirit that would never give up; he was still cursed to inhabit a very mortal vessel.

Still subject to the instincts and side effects that came along with physical trauma, he found these much harder to fight. There was never any kind of guarantee of how long it would take a wound to heal. Each one seemed to be a little different than the last.

Not quite knowing what to expect made the dull throbbing and intense itching of a healing wound much more difficult to accept and ignore than receiving it seemed to be. Would it take hours? Days? A week?

Broken bones seemed to heal the quickest. Flesh wounds even more so. Burns were particularly tricky and he had learned those were best to avoid if he could. Being poisoned was the worst. Sometimes it was days of being stuck inside a body that was trying to kill him, while fire coursed through his veins. A stomach that would empty itself over and over again before the poison was purged from every system. The offending substance doing everything it was supposed to do besides permanently ending his life.

Lord Jashin referred to this as equivalent exchange. One could not be given something for nothing and he was bound to pay for every extension of his life with either suffering or sacrifice. Penance for not being more careful. Retribution for recklessness.

This was why he expected to feel horrible when he was finally returned to the land of the living. The dull ache in his head from blood loss. The throbbing pain in his chest where the spear had been driven. The weakness in his limbs and the intense waves of nausea as body grew accustomed to being alive again.

He had no idea how long he had been gone. Time did not exist in purgatory. Like being trapped inside a dream, hours often felt like minutes. As his eyes fluttered open, he took a moment to survey the sky, eventually concluding that it was dusk, as the absence of the sun above him was readily noted.

He lifted a shaky hand so to drag it up his face and run his fingers through his hair. The sensation of it a little guarantee that he had indeed returned. A habit. His own little ritual. As though he needed to feel himself to be certain it was true.

It took a few minutes to catch his breath. His lungs burned as they filled back up with the air they had been deprived of. Deep, steady breaths. Always three in a row.

Slowly, his hand travelled downwards, as though surveying the damage through touch. The rough sensation of dried blood, flaked against pale skin. The absence of the tool which had ended his life for the hundredth time was noticeably absent. Even if he couldn’t remember removing it before he had lost consciousness.

A kindness.

Without the steel rod still lodged in his chest, the healing process had likely already begun. He would be spared the task of having to rip it out himself and force the process to start all over again.

His vision was still a little blurry. His head swimming and pounding with a headache he knew would plague him for hours. He couldn’t help but release a pained groan of discomfort, sounding more like a drunkard who had just woken up after a three day bender as opposed to a man who had just been dead as a doornail.

His head lulled off to the side and it was then he noticed that he wasn’t alone. The strange female bounty hunter was still there. But why?

Was it guilt that had held her there? Curiosity perhaps? Had a some small part of her believed that he would come back? Had his words hit her in some place deep within her soul? How long would she have waited? Until his body started to smell? Would she have taken him in to claim his bounty?

His voice was raspy. His throat was dry. He needed water. It wasn’t the time for questions. He didn’t even know which one he would have asked first.

Instead, he spoke the obvious. A sort of question in itself.

“You stayed”…

Kakuzu was going to kill him.

Most likely over and over again until he learned that wasting precious time was a much more grevious sin than spilling blood on holy soil.

There was no telling how long he would be out. A dramatically fatal injury incurred alongside the absence of a ritual circle could sometimes take hours to heal. The sentence for being careless. A penalty for being too cocky. Like the harsh love of a parent who desperately wanted their son to mature and grow. Who tried to force it through punishment and penance.

That never seemed to work with Hidan. Not as a child and not as a prophet. Each crime committed. Each sentence delivered. Each punishment served. It was always worth it in the end. He was utterly bound to his convictions. More than aware of every possible consequence. Stubbornly standing by his actions. A necessity instead of a slip up. Sanctioned disobedience. He always had his reasons and not even a God could get him to yield.

Jashin was easier to deal with than Kakuzu. Unlike the Gods who were often slaves to their own ego, he couldn’t be won over with flattery and reverence.

As he stood on the precipice of a self inflicted death, he had already begun reciting the speech he would deliver in his mind. On his knees in the misty, ethereal place between life and death that some people called purgatory.

I did it for you. I had to. She needed to know. She needed to see. She doubted you. She doubted me. I couldn’t allow it. I will never allow it…

He had no idea what he would say to Kakuzu, when he finally caught up hours after he was expected to. Perhaps he would say nothing? Sometimes silence was better than pleading his case. Brushing it off as though it wasn’t a big deal. Subtly implying that it would never be a big deal. What was he going to do anyway? They were stuck together until Hidan found something better to do, whether the old man liked it or not.

His mind had been made up.

In anticipation of the searing pain that would not be delivered in the form of pleasure while outside of a sacrificial circle, he started to recite the mantra that he always did. Utilizing old teachings from being raised within the walls of a Buddhist temple. A sort of meditation that would ground him and strengthen his mind while his body succumbed to its own natural fragility.

Pain is temporary. All things are temporary. Pain is temporary.

He had never expected the woman to spring to her feet the way she did. Breaking his concentration and causing the smallest look of shock to become evident in his gaze. Eyes widening and heart fluttering as she put her hands on him once more, this time completely of her own volition.

There was no sympathy in her gaze. No apprehension. Nothing but hard determination staring back at him. Although he knew what was coming next, he couldn’t help but whine a little— a strangled sound coming from deep within his throat— as flesh and muscle gave way to honed steel.

He knew the spot. He knew his body would put up no resistance as the sharpened rod slid right between ribs and breastplate. The most precious organ of the human body skewered like slow cooked pork.

The eyes of a killer.

One corner of his lips pulled into a smile right before he slipped from her grip and sunk to his knees before her.

He never died desperately. Gasping for air and trembling with fear. The pain in his chest as his heart struggled with futility to keep pumping was easily ignored. Far from the first time he had felt it. He closed his eyes as his vision started to blur and darkness began to close in on him from the outside of his vision in. His head falling back against his shoulders as his body swayed gently.

His final words were not words at all. His last will and testament delivered in the form of laughter. A little strained, but unhinged and sadistically genuine. Laughing at her. Laughing at death. It was how he chose to use the final moments before he succumbed to the constraints of still having a very mortal body that could be killed in every way any other one could.

Weak and soft. Made of flesh and bone. A house for tender organs and flowing blood. Being indestructible was not the gift he had been given. The blood he could taste in the back of his throat a familiar reminder. He could be killed. Over and over again. Even.

He just wouldn’t stay dead.

If curiosity was what had driven her forward, it was about to be sated. If justice had been what had taken over her actions, she would be sorely disappointed. If it was nothing but good old fashioned human cruelty which had pushed her forward, she would feel cheated.

The only certainty he could count on was that he would endure.

All things were temporary. For the emissary of a God, this also included death.

[werewolfsone]

[distorted voices singing]

[daincrediblegg]

I love learning that some of that wardroom scene with crozier and jfj was improvised now. I always thought the way jared said "I was, in fact, ordered" was very interesting and low-key a little broken from the scene and it's like yes queen your eyes did not fail you now as they have never failed you that shit was on the fly

[kald-dal-write]

Think Lenore Dove's death would have gone by better for me if she wasn't trying to do a title drop moment in her dying breaths tbh

[speedlimit15]

i am really excited to see my family for a camping trip this long weekend. i am really not excited to inevitably get into an angry stalemate over palestine with at least one of my family members

[rmorde]

While still on my 2HA high, I really want to talk about Chu Wanning's love for Mo Ran.

It is strange, isn't it? How deep his love goes when he only met little Mo Ran for a short while.

IMO, Chu Wanning is like Goj0 Sat0ru - the strongest but the loneliest. Everyone puts them on a pedestal which isolates them from building true connections with others.

For example, Xue Meng obviously loves and cares for Chu Wanning. However, he deeply respects and fears him too. He never sits beside his teacher when eating after all.

Coupled with Chu Wanning's temper and horrible social skills, he is an intimidating figure that would be really difficult to befriend.

Then little Mo Ran barges into his life. He disregarded all the social propriety bullshit and straight up demanded Chu Wanning to pay attention to him. He reached out and interacted Chu Wanning as a person - not some powerful figure to be revered and feared. For someone who has been treated as almost a "nonperson" because of his abilities for his entire life, that simple demand was special and kind in Chu Wanning's perspective.

So, imo, Chu Wanning is like Goj0 and Mo Ran is his "Get0". He loves him because, through sheer luck (aka fate), he is the first to see him beyond his powers and treat him as a real person.

So the next question then is when did Chu Wanning fell in love with Mo Ran?

I don't really know. In the beginning of the new timeline, Wanning is already in love with Mo Ran - he feels jealous of Shi Mei and feels wrong about having such feelings. I guess his love grew over time? Kinda like how Shi Mei and Mo Ran developed their feelings for him.

Maybe that's the case in 0.5 too but far more complicated. Chu Wanning loved Mo Ran. Fell in love with Mo Ran but never did anything about it because of Shi Mei. Probably fell out of love because of Taxian-Jun being Taxian-Jun. However, Chu Wanning's love for Mo Ran still endured despite everything especially when he realized his former disciple needed saving.

As for lusting after Mo Ran, I can only say poor Chu Wanning in the current(second?) timeline. The guy's already in love and ready to take his forbidden feelings to his grave. However, the soul fragment 0.5 Wanning put into him made him remember all his horrific experiences as an abused sex slave by Taxian-Jun... which he misinterpreted as wet dreams and triggered his lust. What a fucking mess. It would have been funny if it weren't so dark and depressing.

[the-jam-to-the-unicorn]

Ze during the Railway Workers' Day event

[the-walls-have-many-ears]

I’ve been informed it’s a big day for terror fans how are things

They used his body! They fed the men!!

[bornetoblood]

i LOVE IT when art makes me VICERALLY UNCOMFORTABLE and EMOTIONALLY IN PAIN and i and NOT JOKING

[cult-of-dollbabies]

So I've been rewatching Take Back The Falls. And every time I hear the line from Bill, "c'mon guys, you had one job" to the henchmaniacs, I think about The Colonel and the Chucky Army.

There is (almost) not a single line from Bill that you can't tell me chucky, or a variant WOULDN'T say in some capacity. It's fantastic and hilarious and I love it

[buddieroommates]

.