#main thread blocking

[infoanalysishub]

Total Blocking Time (TBT)

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[izutsoupmi]

i am being subjected to the presence of a child once again

[positivelyghastly]

Tiny reliquary update: I got toothpicks and now I can get the main body of this thing put together! I wish I had my callipers though, they’re in my toolbox back at my mum’s place and they would make taking these tiny measurements so much easier but at least I have my steel rules :’)

[cornelianlute]

@ragingfists liked for a starter

"oh, excuse me, sir. i did not see you there." the princess of cornelia was out on another trip into town (in disguise, of course). it was part of her duties to see how the people of her kingdom were faring. aside from the chaos a traveling fair can bring, things were the same as usual. brushing a lock of hair the colour of carnations behind her ear, the princess continues, "are you a traveler come to experience the festivities in store? if you would like, i can show you around the town?"

[princessclefairyberry]

Watching the UK election results for the very first time - I've spent all the US elections since 2008 (my first year being old enough to vote) absolutely glued to the entire process. Having finally gotten my spouse visa and moved to the UK precisely a week(!!) ago, it's fascinating seeing the different colors and different parties and different locations I know next to nothing about. (In my defence, I didn't have a lot of time to prepare!)

For my Americans out there, Conservative (which is a party) is blue here, and Labour (which is kinda Democrat-ish) is red, which keeps making me double-take at results and maps lmao

[the-kipsabian]

true fandom experience is getting yourself blocked by a shit ton of people who are fans of the most popular guys you dont care about lmao

[devouredher]

me, any time a personal blog likes anything on my blog

[golden--threads]

》 ooc

if anyone cared as to why this blog is quiet, if its dead: NOPE IM WORKING ON THE VISUAL NOVEL 🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🗣🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶🫶‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️😎😎😎😎😎😎🚬😎Hey whys that guy smokign

anyways.

hoping that the demo will be done around november or sooner, so far, abouut a third of the way done with just coding the demo (which will be day 1 of 7 total days you can play). im so hyped bro u dont even know. someone ask me about it or my ocs or anything at all Im so dizzy and full of information/silly 《

[lunarscaled]

-> They know it happens when their stomach drops suddenly while sitting in place. Nausea, a type so overwhelming they almost start retching immediately over the thick ridge of ice that forms the border of their nest; the cold shakes, somehow still more chilling than the compact snow and frozen basement they've meticulously built their nest in; the deep and frantic need to roam somewhere, anywhere other than just curling up here pathetically, but they can't just run away. It won't be safe, for one ( for other people or themselves ), and they will almost certainly become fatigued and hungry and have none of their essentials on them to acquire lodging or food. Their thoughts scatter like marbles and they are aware of their jacked heart rate, risen as high as it needs to be for them to feel it shaking in their wrists---the sensation is familiar. They've had plenty of panic attacks before. Dealt with them alone before, too, so this won't be anything new. Their fingers and claws dig into their own palms where the skin feels like it doesn't feel quite right, and the shape doesn't feel quite right, and deep breath in. Hold it. Vlos talked about counting things in the room with them so maybe they should look around. Exhale. ( they thought they had a few more days to bring down blankets and clothes as necessary. they may still have time now, in the early early morning before the frustration and irritability has set in. before they're confined to asking for things through text or going without. )

-> They think their teeth are castanets with how they're chattering but they know it's just the stress rolling through them. It will pass. But for now they are shaking with an anxiousness so fierce they're terrified where it comes from when they have meticulously spent the better part of a month gradually preparing their space to some level of comfort and security that might assuage them. They brought their box of paperwork down here to do even if they might only get a fraction of it done and they still want to chew their nails to bits, sit down and hide their head in the smallest, darkest space possible and wait for it to be over. ( maybe they should turn off the lights. maybe the dark would make them feel better, like a real cave. ) They can't help but stand up and pace back and forth along the length of the cellar, trying to soothe themselves. They both do and do not wish for comfort---the gentle kind, holding their face and talking them through their breathing. They suppose Garrett could come down and do it, but they didn't want to risk turning on him suddenly as another dragon in their space. The basement door was deadbolted for a reason. Gimmoirer had gone too, even more territorial than normal for the past week until Lyric was left in finger shaped bruises from being thrown around, their teeth peeling off his scales. They knew his spewed words about "family" were half hearted at best, but what could be done when they instinctively knew each other to be competitors? He'd have killed them if he stayed, stronger by centuries.

-> They pace more to temper their stress. They think about calling someone but don't. They think about trying to lay down and sort their nest, but they don't. Pacing is all they can do to soothe themselves for the moment as they continue breathing through the panic: inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. They can feel fatigue seeping in under the alarm bells but their body won't turn off enough for it to hit all the right buttons. Inhale, exhale. They think they're lonely again already.

[raevpng]

stuck by glue

paige bueckers x azzi fudd

masterlist

summary: short glimpses of paige and azzi’s journey as they grow from friends to something more

a/n: in honour of paige being gay on the main and azzi fucking fudd. when i tell you i was geeking over that woman and her podcast too like ??

this is rlly short! im ngl though, i’m not sure if i like this very much, writers block has been kicking my ass. still, i hope you enjoy <3 as always, feel free to lmk what u think through my inbox !

“do you ever think about the future?”

the sudden question breaks through the curtain of comfortable silence that had settled between them. the sun had just set, slipping through blue horizons, leaving ribbons of warm oranges and purples that painted the sky above.

the pair had been goofing around just moments ago, playing an unserious game of basketball with ice pops melting down their fingers. azzi had been nagging paige about the purple stickiness lingering from her fingers to the ball, paige sticking out her tongue in a cheeky response.

summer was quickly fading into yet another memory, this time a bittersweet one as paige prepared to start her first year in connecticut.

the goofiness and giggles had long faded, a quiet stillness heavy with thoughts and feelings replacing the air. they lay on the roof – long legs stretched out, shoulders brushing softly. it was quiet, save for the soft mingling of their breaths, quiet chirping of birds, and a soft song azzi didn’t recognise playing softly from paige’s phone.

“yeah,” azzi replied, voice quiet. “i do.”

paige hums, “me too.”

she doesn’t say more at first, fingers toying with a loose thread on her sweatshirt. well, technically stolen from azzi’s closet. the street below was nearly silent, like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting.

azzi turned her head at the sound of paige’s soft inhale, instinctively picking up on the shift.

“i wanna win a championship,” paige began, voice thoughtful. “at uconn of course. graduate as the first pick in the draft. win more.”

azzi giggled, a small, warm sound that made paige’s lips twitch up without thinking.

“course you do.” azzi smiled so softly it was barely visible. but paige felt it. “and you will. i know you’ll get all that and more.”

silence ensues once again, this time lighter as they let themselves get lost in teenage thoughts and dreams.

“how about you?” paige asked, turning to finally look at the curly haired girl.

azzi hums, leaning back on her palms as she let the light breeze kiss her face before responding.

“same thing.” azzi sighed, “wherever i do go, i just wanna play. play as long and as hard as i can. make my family proud. make history.”

paige nods, leaning it to nudge azzi’s shoulder. “you already are.”

azzi laughed softly, letting herself melt into the moment. she glanced at paige, letting her gaze trail down her best friend’s features – at the messy ponytail with strands falling loose, the soft furrow in her brow, the glassy shimmer in those blue eyes, the slight pout of her lips. she knew there was more. more than what paige was saying. more than just a conversation about basketball. and so she waited, eyes back on the sky.

“it’s not just basketball though,” paige finally says, confirming azzi’s thoughts, still keeping her gaze straight ahead. “i think about…more than that.”

azzi hums, tilting her head in curiosity. “like what?”

paige shrugs in feign nonchalance, voice smaller. “i dont’t know. like… a house. humble, quiet. a cute porch with a swing in the yard.”

azzi smiled at the thought, heart beating a little faster.

“maybe a dog too.” paige continues, still playing with the thread. “a golden retriever maybe?”

“i see that.” azzi laughs softly, emotions she still can’t quite name thick in her voice.

“right?” paige giggles, voice softening impossibly. “and maybe, someone to come home to. someone who’ll hold me after a bad game. someone who won’t care if i never score another point again.”

azzi’s breath hitched. they never talked about significant others. not seriously. not without tension or teasing. every crush, every lingering glance from someone else – it always made things weird. different.

so she just hums, swallowing the lump in her throat to encourage paige to continue.

“i think about kids too, sometimes.” paige continues. azzi raises a brow at that, coaxing a laugh from the blonde. “not now, obviously. but someday. i wanna teach them how to hoop, maybe embarrass them a little in front of their friends.”

azzi clears her throat, throat tight. “you’ll be a cool mom.”

“i’ll try.” paige smiles, almost shy. “but you’ll be better.”

there’s a beat of silence, azzi’s brows furrowing as she ignores the way her heart leaps.

“me?”

paige doesn’t answer at first, eyes still fixed on the sky. it was darkening now, the pastel colours slipping into dark blues. but there was a quiet tremble in her voice now, nervous but adamant.

“yeah.” she says, voice lower than a whisper. “when i think of all that, when i think of the life i want…it’s always you in it.”

azzi’s breath catches again, and she swears her heart physically skips a beat at the rawness of paige’s confession. “me?”

“always.” paige confesses, turning to finally meet her eyes.

the world slows. the sunset’s gone now, the sky a deep navy, stars just beginning to blink into view. azzi feels like she’s standing at the edge of something enormous. something that’s been waiting for them both.

azzi stays quiet for a beat, letting her breath even out as she moves closer, dropping her head slowly to rest on paige’s shoulder. she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t flinch. just leans right back.

and maybe it’s then, perched on the hard, rough surface of her childhood roof that everything sinks in. that maybe, this girl beside her has held her heart all this time, that she’s been in love with her best friend that’s seen her through countless losses and victories, and made her feel like a winner through each one.

“yeah, me too.” azzi breathes out, tangling her fingers with paige’s.

sticky and all.

—

there was something incredibly intimate about knowing exactly where everything is in a room that wasn’t yours. reaching for the right light switch, knowing which drawer hid the snacks, which hoodie to snatch because it smelled the most like her.

and that’s what it is with paige and azzi. so effortless and natural in a way that just felt like home. something long-settled, quiet, and lived in.

practice had just ended, and the team was practically dragging their aching muscles, sweat soaked ponytails, and heavy shoulders to their dorms.

“hey, p?” kk called, breathless as she caught up beside paige.

paige hummed, pulling her favourite baggy hoodie over head with one hand.

“wanna play some fortnite later?”

paige only laughed, “only if you’re ready to get cooked.”

the others groaned from behind them, azzi laughing as kk slammed her smaller frame into paige’s giggling one.

“can we all come?” aubrey asked, dragging her feet, voice high and playful. “team bonding?”

“sure,” paige chuckled. “as long as y’all wash your sweaty asses first.”

a round of chaos erupts, a mix of enthusiastic yells and playful groans from behind paige’s shoulder, chuckling to herself as they all split to clean up, half plotting snacks while others were already trashtalking.

as the group thins out, azzi lingers behind, smiling up at her – quiet, familiar, and soft in the way that didn’t need words. paige meets her with the same softness, smiling at the sight. she presses a soft kiss to her forehead, thumb brushing the curve of her cheek. azzi makes a soft whine of protest.

“i’m still sweaty, you goof.” azzi mumbled, cheeks flushed against paige’s soft touch.

“don’t care.” paige only whispered back.

paige reached for azzi without looking, fingers interlacing effortlessly, like they’ve done a hundred times before.

and it begins – the routine they’ve unknowingly curated.

paige opens the passenger door, azzi climbs in with a soft ‘thank you.’ azzi’s phone connects to the car without a single tap, the screen glowing with their shared playlist they made together, titled with a basketball and a pink heart.

azzi hums along to a song paige had insisted on adding, leaning against the window while she reaches for paige’s hand – palm open and already waiting.

no glance, no question.

paige only smiles.

—

paige’s dorm was quiet when they slipped in. the soft sound of running water echoes softly down the halls – her room-mates are probably in the showers already. without hesitation, azzi drops her bag by the bed, pulling the ties from her two practice braids before grabbing the little basket of shower products she liked to keep on paige’s shelf.

paige watched her move, the easy rhythm of someone who knew the place – who knew her – like the back of her hand. like home.

“i’ll go shower first.” azzi said softly, pressing a soft kiss to paige’s cheek before disappearing out the dorm with a soft click.

paige just sighed, heart full, as she set up the playstation.

–

the door swung open a few minutes later, the soft quiet replaced with the kind of heartwarming noise only a family could make. kk carried a bag of chips on one hand and a bag of tru-fru on another, aubrey and ice filming a chaotic intro to a vlog that probably wouldn’t get finished. they stumble in, piling on couches and paige’s bed making easy conversation as they jump into a game. kk, paige, and ice were mid game when aubrey looked up from where she had been scrolling on a beanbag.

“yo, where’s azzi” she said, looking around quizzically.

paige looked up from the screen for a second, mouth open to answer – but the door opens just in time.

and there was azzi, fresh from the shower smelling fragrantly of paige’s favourite scent, curls still damp, face flushed from the steam. she padded in barely acknowledging her friends, going straight to paige’s closet without a second glance. she grabbed the hoodie. the one paige had discarded after practice, the one she never let anyone touch.

everyone watched with wide eyes as she tugged it on with ease, sleeves too long, looseness practically swallowing her whole, hood flipped up for warmth.

she walked across the room with no hesitation, unaware of the eyes following her as she grabbed paige's favourite lavender moisturiser from her dresser, twisting the cap casually.

the room fell weirdly quiet.

“damn, azzi.” nika said slowly, “you live here or something?”

“and that’s the hoodie.” aubrey gasped like she uncovered a secret.

azzi blinked, mid-squeeze of lotion, brows furrowed. “...what?”

“that hoodie.” kk dropping her controller to point, ignoring sounds of the enemies’ guns. "i've tried so many times to borrow that. paige never lets me.”

“or me.” aubrey added.

azzi blinked slowly, as if she couldn’t understand why it confused them. “it’s mine now.”

kk and aubrey’s jaws slack.

paige, lounging casually against her desk, didn’t even flinch. “it’s been hers.”

kk opens her mouth to say something, but closes it again, turning to look back at the tv with eyes wide, knowing. aubrey simply snickers, mouthing “whipped” at nika before turning back to her phone.

ice couldn’t drop it though, sitting up to narrow her eyes between the two.

“you guys are domestic as hell.” she accused, “when are ya’ll gonna get together?”

everyone snickers in agreement.

“right?” kk added. “you’re basically the team parents.”

there was a small stretch of silence as they looked between the two, waiting for red cheeks, some panicked, flustered denial, maybe even the start of a cute confession.

“what do you mean?” paige tilted her head instead, genuine confusion all over her features. “we are together.”

pause.

“excuse me?” aubrey stood up, flabbergasted. the rest of the team mirrored her expression, halting whatever they were doing to yell and scream.

“since when?” nika demanded, mouth open, clinging to ice’s arm like she needed the emotional support.

azzi looked over her shoulder, unfazed as she screwed the cap back on. “since before i got here.”

more chaos.

“since before uconn?” kk’s voice cracked from sheer shock, collapsing backward dramatically into paige’s bed.

paige shrugged, totally unbothered. “like summer before freshman year.”

azzi nodded, crossing the room once more to sit on paige’s lap, the blonde’s arms automatically shooting up to secure azzi’s waist, rubbing the soft skin under her hoodie.

their friends’ eyes practically bug out their faces at the affection, some fake gagging while others sputter out more questions and accusations.

“nah hold up!” aubrey shrieked, “you’re telling me you two have been dating this whole time? and none of us knew?”

paige shrugged, amused. “we weren’t trying to keep it a secret.”

“i thought it was pretty obvious.” azzi giggled, smiling into paige’s shoulder as paige looked down with lovesick eyes.

the room buzzed with disbelief, shrieking, and laughter. nika was spinning in circles. kk was demanding a full timeline. ice was saying “i told you so.”

among it all, azzi only nuzzled closer, paige growing impossibly softer.

—

the lights in the arena were blinding, the cheers in the stands practically deafening as the dallas wings secured their first win of the season.

everything burned – the harshness of the lights, the rasp in her lungs as she tries to recover, the sharp protest of her knee with every step. her chest heaved with every breath, droplets of sweat dripping down her temples as slick blonde hair clung to her forehead and neck. she played hard today, dropping 35 points like it was nothing. like it was just another tuesday night. ironic knowing who she played against.

she was across the court, grinning like she was immune to the sting of a loss. brown, doe eyes bright under the harsh lights, curls clinging to caramel skin, sweat glistening against the sharp line of her jaw.

it should be easier this way. to see her across the court, out of reach. distant.

and she tried, she’s been trying ever since she was sixteen goddamn it. but here she was again, eyes finding hers like a reflex. muscle memory programmed into her being. she could never avoid the heat of her stare, never escape from the pull that she seems to have over her whole being.

it feels like the world goes faster and freezes simultaneously, and god she hates that she sounds like those cheesy romantic novels azzi used to make her read. but the way their eyes met, the way unspoken words seemed to slow between them – who could really blame her for staying rooted in place? under the spell of someone who she used to know. someone who used to know her.

her mind felt scrambled, dizzy from the warnings her brain was throwing her way. yet, her body ignored it all. ignored the surprised looks of her teammates, who knew how it ended last. she barely registered the media’s interest and shock in the sight beholding in front of them – that paige bueckers and azzi fudd were gonna have their first off-court interaction in a year.

she knew how it ended, she couldn’t forget it now matter how hard she tried. she couldn’t forget how broken they had been, how the distance had killed them. the yelling, the slammed doors, the sheer pain she felt distancing herself from the person who knew her best. the one who she ran to after every game lost, every false narrative, hell when she got mean to herself.

azzi sighs before she gets there, like she knew what this was. what this meant to paige. what paige was feeling. and she does. paige knows she feels it too. sees the mirth in those familiar brown eyes, notices the quiver of pink lips.

“az–”

she feels her before she sees her, warm arms wrapping around her waist, head finding its way to the nook of her neck. the familiar scent of her shampoo wraps around her and she can’t help but shut her eyes, willing the burn of tears to go away before she wraps her arms around the girl she’s been missing – been needing all this time.

and suddenly, everything fades away. the ache in her bones, the cracks in her heart, the pressure of fans, the media, the crowd – everything. for a second, her in her arms again, it was just them.

“i’m sorry.”

azzi’s voice was barely above a whisper, but god she felt it, felt her. felt how broken she had been too, felt the ghost of hurt caused by distance and whispered promises too big for their age. she couldn’t help but shudder at the brush of lips around her neck, at the warmth of her breath near her skin again.

“don’t.” paige whispered back, hugging her impossibly closer. “i’m here again. never leaving you again, baby.”

and amidst the flashes of cameras, announcers over the speakers, and fans’ cheers flooding the room, they’ve never felt more alone. together.

–

warmth pools around her skin, partly from the dipping sun but mostly from her girlfriend snuggled beside her. she felt the roughness of the roof digging at her bare thighs, but she couldn’t find it in her to care.

not when blonde hair, damp and smelling faintly of her shampoo tickled her cheek, grounding her in the kind of comfort only paige could give. not after spending a year apart, separated by harsh words and harsher distance. it felt like forever ago, wrapped around each others’ presence now. but she remembered it all, remembered the stubbornness, the heartbreak that had stretched like the miles between them. now though? this felt like forgiveness, felt like home.

the sun above was soft and forgiving. the soft kind that wrapped around them like an embrace. it brushed their skin with light and memory, and azzi couldn’t help but smile at the familiar, aching sense of deja vu.

“paige?” she asked softly, voice just above a whisper.

“hm?” the blonde hummed without opening her eyes, her tone loose and warm.

“do you remember that summer before you left for college?”

paige smiled before the words had even finished leaving her lips, lifting their intertwined hands to brush a kiss on azzi’s knuckles. “course i do. every minute.”

azzi nuzzled impossibly closer, fitting into every curve of paige’s side. like she belonged there, like she had never been gone. “ever think about how far we’ve come?” she whispered.

“from that summer or our dramatic reunion?” paige looked down at her, lips curled into a soft smile.

azzi laughed too, the kind of laugh that burrowed into paige’s chest and made her heart swell. it was low and warm, the sound of home. “i mean, both.” she reached up, brushing a thumb across paige’s cheek. “but more like… how no matter what, we always find our way back to each other. like now. like this.”

paige’s smile faltered, not because she disagreed, but because it hit her right in the chest. the truth of it. the weight of everything they’d survived. “yeah,” she breathed, her voice barely above the breeze, eyes tracing every curve of azzi’s face like it was the last time she’d get to memorize her. “it’s always been you.”

azzi’s eyes flutter shut, smiling helplessly and hopelessly in love. “you remember what you said to me on that rooftop? the night before you left?”

paige hummed. “how could i forget?”

“you told me,” azzi whispered, her voice suddenly fragile, trembling beneath the memory. “you told me you always saw me in your future. only me.”

the words hung in the space between them, thick with history and weight.

azzi blinked, suddenly realizing the warmth beside her had shifted. she opened her eyes and turned, heart stopping when she saw paige — no longer stretched beside her, but kneeling, one knee pressed against the roof, gaze steady and full of something deep and unwavering.

“paige?” azzi breathed, heart stalling, mind racing.

paige’s hands trembled slightly as she reached into the front pocket of her hoodie. she pulled out a small red velvet box, the color rich against the dusky light.

azzi practically breaks.

“i meant it then,” paige said, voice thick and wobbly with emotion, “and i mean it now.”

“paige, what are you–” azzi’s words stuttered and fell away when the box opened, catching the sunlight just enough to make the diamond inside glint like it was alive.

“oh my god.” azzi whispered, pushing herself up. she was kneeling beside her now, eyes wide and already glossy. “paige, is this–”

paige simply nods, voice steady even as tears rimmed her eyes. “azzi, i told you back then i only saw you in my future. and not once did that ever change. not through the wins, the distance, the silence. even when we were apart… you were still it for me.”

azzi let out a shaky laugh, trying and failing to blink away the tears.

“you’ve been my constant,” paige went on, voice cracking but never hesitating. “since day one. and younger me knew. she knew when you sat next to me on that first plane ride. knew when you never stopped believing in me. knew when you stayed by my side, even when i tried to push you away. i want it all with you. the home, the quiet mornings, the chaos. i want you to be the mother of our kids, the person i come home to, the one i wake up next to forever.”

“shit,” azzi laughed tearfully, wiping her face with the sleeve of her hoodie. “you’re crazy for this.”

paige laughed too, eyes glinting, heart wide open. “i love you,” she said, reaching up to brush a tear from azzi’s cheek. “i’ve loved you through everything, the facetime calls, the wins, the losses, the space between us. and i’ll keep loving you, every version of you, for the rest of my life.”

paige paused for a second, breathing deep before plucking the ring gently to hold it out, hands trembling, voice shaky.

“azzi jazzlyn fudd, will you marry me?”

for a second, no one moved. the music played on, a love song humming in the background, and the golden light framed them like a painting.

then azzi launched forward, crashing into paige’s chest, arms tight around her neck, their laughter breaking through the emotion like sunlight through clouds.

“yes,” azzi whispered, breathless and teary and smiling so wide it hurt. “of course, yes.”

paige held her tight, the box and ring still in one hand, the other wrapped fiercely around her back. she wasn’t letting go again. not now. not ever.

they stayed like that for a second. sniffling, giggling into each other’s neck, whispering soft promises as the moment sinks into them.

when they finally pull apart, still teary eyed, flushed, and grinning like idiots, azzi held her hand out for paige to slip the ring in. the light caught the stones beautifully, and both their breaths catch at how beautiful it looks on azzi’s fingers.

“guess i’m stealing your last name now.” azzi murmured with a giggle, holding her hand out for them to admire.

“guess i’m yours forever,” she whispered back.

and as the sun dipped below the skyline and the stars began to take its place, the rooftop where it all began became the place they said yes to forever.

[ilovejb]

hi I saw your requests were open!! Could you write hurt/comfort for lewis pullman? maybe they met as costars doing top gun maverick and with his recent fame people don’t like her so she comforts her? Thank you!

| A little too much |

Pairings : Lewis Pullman x female!reader

Summary : When the world refuses to see her worth, she learns to hold her head high—with a little help from the one person who always believed in her.

Warnings : Online harassment (mentions of hate comments, cyberbullying) Insecurity/self-worth struggles,hurt/comfort themes. Use of y/n. Fluffy ending though don’t worry !!

Authors note : Writing this was hard because every time I thought of Lewis Pullman I blacked out for 3–5 business days.

You hadn’t expected Top Gun: Maverick to change your life.

You were cast as Lieutenant Emily “Echo” Reynolds—one of the new recruits in the Top Gun program. Small role. One that barely skimmed the surface of the final cut, but enough to land you a seat at the premieres, a few lines of dialogue, and a credit you’d clung to in the years after like it meant more than it did. You’d done your job. Clean, professional. Not memorable, not Oscar-worthy—but you’d shown up, hit your marks, delivered your lines.

And you’d met Lewis.

He was warm. Funny. Kind in the way not many actors were, especially the ones with last names like Pullman and eyes that saw more than they let on. You didn’t expect him to talk to you much. You weren’t Glen or Miles or Monica—you weren’t the inner circle.

But he did. He talked to you. At lunch, on set, at wrap parties. You shared trailers when the sun was too hot and shade was a luxury. He shared chips with you once when you forgot to eat. You didn’t call it fate. You weren’t that romantic.

But two months later, when he called you to ask if you wanted to get dinner when you were both back in L.A.—you started to think maybe something bigger had been at play.

Now, two years later, he was famous. Not “Top Gun” famous. Not “I think I recognize him” famous. But everywhere. Talk shows, GQ spreads, Dior campaigns, dramatic indie films and tentpole blockbusters alike.

And you? You were his girlfriend.

Only… no one seemed to like that.

At first, it was little things. Tweets that said “How did she bag Lewis Pullman??” or “Y/N wasn’t even a main character lol she’s just riding the Top Gun clout.”

Then came the Instagram DMs. Pages with profile pictures of teenage girls or anonymous blank circles.

“You’re literally just a nobody.”

“He could do SO much better.”

“Why would someone as sweet as Lewis date someone as average as you?”

“Hope you know he’s going to cheat eventually. You’re just the practice run.”

“You must be amazing in bed to keep him around. Because it’s definitely not the face.”

You tried not to read them. You turned off comments. You blocked. Reported. Ignored.

But they kept coming.

And one day, one of them found your old audition tape.

They posted it to Twitter. The caption said: “Y’all remember when Lewis Pullman had to act with THIS?”

The video had 72K likes in 6 hours.

You called your agent crying. She told you to stay off socials.

You told Lewis nothing.

Because he had enough to deal with.

Because he was finally getting the recognition he deserved.

Because you didn’t want to be that girlfriend—the one who couldn’t take the heat.

You kept your mouth shut. Even when the hate turned from cruel to cutting.

Even when it bled into Reddit threads and fan forums.

“I bet she’s using him for clout.”

“She’s so mid.”

“He could date an actual actress, not some glorified extra.”

“Y/N? Seriously?”

“God, she’s just not pretty enough for him.”

You looked in the mirror and saw it too.

You weren’t model-thin. Your jawline wasn’t sharp. You had soft cheeks and skin that broke out when you were stressed. Your hair was never the perfect amount of messy and styled. Your outfits were practical, not paparazzi-worthy. You didn’t know how to pose at events. You smiled too wide. You stood with your legs too close together. You said dumb things in interviews and forgot to look into the right camera.

You were a mess.

And now, the whole internet saw it too.

The worst part?

Lewis had no idea.

You were quiet when he came home that night. His keys jingled in the bowl by the door. You were curled up on the couch, hoodie pulled over your knees, blue light from your phone casting shadows under your eyes.

He dropped a kiss on your head like he always did and then paused.

“You okay?” he asked gently, brushing your hair behind your ear.

You flinched before you could stop yourself. “Yeah,” you lied, trying to smile. “Just tired.”

Lewis looked at you like he didn’t believe you. “Long day?”

You nodded, swallowing hard. “You could say that.”

He sat beside you, slinging an arm around your shoulder. You stiffened again. You hated it. You hated that his warmth, the thing you used to crave, felt like acid now—like a spotlight. Like everyone could see you didn’t deserve it.

He squeezed your arm. “Babe.”

You blinked too hard, and your phone slipped from your hands. He caught a glimpse of the screen before it fell face-down onto the carpet. You moved fast to grab it.

Too late.

“Y/N,” he said softly.

You didn’t look at him.

He reached down, picked up the phone. You reached for it, but he held it out of reach. “Hey, what’s—” He opened the app. Froze. Read one comment. Then another.

You felt your stomach drop. “Lewis—”

“Is this why you’ve been quiet all week?” His voice was sharp. Not angry. But something close. Something wounded.

You turned away.

He stared at the screen, scrolling through DM after DM. “Jesus.”

“I didn’t want to bother you,” you whispered.

Lewis looked at you like you’d said the most absurd thing in the world. “You didn’t want to bother me? Y/N, people are harassing you.”

“They’re just stupid fans,” you said quickly, eyes stinging. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is a big deal. Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

You didn’t know how to explain that. That some part of you felt like you deserved it. Like all those people were just saying what everyone else was thinking.

You bit your lip. “I didn’t want to make it about me. Your career is exploding. I didn’t want to get in the way.”

Lewis sat back like the words physically knocked the wind out of him. “You think this isn’t about us?”

You stayed silent.

He threw the phone onto the couch and turned fully to you. His voice was low now. Hurt. “Y/N, you were the best thing to come out of that set for me. You still are. The fact that you’re hurting and I didn’t know? That’s what makes me sick.”

Your eyes brimmed over, the tears hot and fast.

“And I don’t care what anyone on the internet says,” he continued, voice cracking a little. “They don’t know you. They don’t know what it was like to see you in costume, chewing gum between takes and mouthing everyone else’s lines because you were so damn prepared. They don’t know how you pulled me aside after I forgot my cue and whispered the right one like it was a secret. Or how you stood next to me at the wrap party and let me vent about how nervous I was to live up to my dad’s name.”

You blinked hard.

“They don’t know how you came to my mom’s birthday party even though you were terrified of meeting my family, and won over every single person in the room because you’re funny and real and kind.”

“Lewis—”

“They don’t know how you fall asleep with your mouth open and then wake up embarrassed and cover it like it makes you unlovable.” He shook his head, voice soft now. “They don’t know what I know.”

You were crying full now. Hands shaking. Voice cracked. “It just—it got in my head.”

“I know.” He reached for you, arms wrapping tight around your frame. “I know, baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t see it.”

You clung to him like you were drowning. He held you tighter.

And for the first time in weeks, you felt like maybe—just maybe—you could breathe.

You didn’t leave the house for five days.

Not for coffee. Not for groceries. Not for air.

You canceled your lunch with your old Top Gun castmates—the few who still remembered you. You ignored text after text from your friends, all of them asking if you were okay in that soft, guilt-laced way people use when they’ve just realized how long it’s been since they checked in.

You stayed in Lewis’s oversized hoodie, the one with the tiny burn hole on the sleeve from when he tried to make you crème brûlée at 2 a.m. and nearly torched the entire kitchen.

It still smelled like him. Like cinnamon and cedar and that stupid overpriced hair gel he swore he didn’t use.

You hated that it comforted you.

Lewis didn’t push you to leave. Not once.

He cooked breakfast without asking if you wanted it. Left little Post-it notes on your mirror—drink water / you are loved / they’re wrong about you. He took every interview request and promo obligation and moved it. Cleared the week. For you.

And still, you barely spoke.

You couldn’t. Because talking meant thinking, and thinking meant reliving, and reliving meant scrolling.

You knew better. You knew not to check the tags. Not to search your name. Not to read the comments on his latest GQ cover where you were only mentioned in passing but still managed to become a target.

“She’s dragging him down.”

“PR relationship. Has to be.”

“Can someone please explain to me how Lewis Pullman went from rising star to babysitting his insecure little groupie of a girlfriend?”

“Her eyes are dead in every photo. It’s giving boring.”

“She’s so lucky he doesn’t have better taste.”

You wanted to disappear. To melt into the hardwood floor and never be seen again. You wondered if there was a way to shrink yourself small enough to fit into his pocket and never come out.

On day six, you finally said something.

“I think I want to delete everything.”

Lewis was on the couch reading a script. He looked up slowly.

“Everything?”

You nodded. “Instagram. Twitter. My website. My reels. All of it.”

He set the script down. “Babe, are you sure?”

You tried to smile. Failed. “I don’t think I’m strong enough to keep it.”

He didn’t speak for a moment. Then, he reached across the coffee table, his fingers wrapping around yours.

“You are. You’re the strongest person I know.”

He paused. “But if it’s breaking you right now, we’ll take it down.”

“Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

You breathed for the first time in days. He squeezed your hand.

You deleted it all.

One by one.

Photos from set. Gone.

Thirst traps that never made you feel sexy. Gone.

The tweet where you made a dumb joke about Tom Cruise being shorter than expected. Gone.

You cried when it was over.

Lewis didn’t say I told you so. He just wrapped you in a blanket and held you so long your leg fell asleep.

And then it got worse.

Paparazzi photos surfaced. Ones from a month ago, outside a gas station, when you’d worn your pajama bottoms in public and hadn’t realized someone was watching. You were with Lewis. He was holding your hand.

The headline read: “New It Boy Lewis Pullman Settling Down with Mediocre Nobody?”

The article wasn’t even subtle.

“She’s forgettable at best, unprofessional at worst.”

“No major roles since Maverick, which frankly wasn’t a major role to begin with.”

“Sources say Lewis’s team isn’t thrilled about the relationship.”

“She’s been described as clingy, emotionally volatile, and embarrassingly jealous.”

Your ears rang. Your chest caved in.

There weren’t any sources. That was the worst part. They just made it up. Invented a version of you the world could hate, and then handed you over to the wolves.

When Lewis found you, you were shaking.

“I’m not clingy,” you said as he walked in.

His face twisted in confusion. “What?”

“I’m not. I give you space. I don’t make everything about me. I let you work. I don’t even go to half the premieres with you because I know people will talk.”

His heart dropped to his knees. “Hey, hey—where is this coming from?”

You turned your phone toward him. Let him see the headline. The photos. The bolded words you couldn’t unread.

He paled. Sat beside you in silence.

You wiped at your eyes. “Do you think they’re right?”

Lewis’s mouth parted. “What—what the hell kind of question is that?”

“Do you regret this?” Your voice cracked. “Being with me?”

Something in him shattered.

He reached for your face, thumbs brushing tears from your cheeks like it would change the world.

“No,” he whispered. “God, no. You are the only thing that keeps me grounded. Do you know what fame feels like most days? It feels like everyone wants a piece of me except the people who actually see me. But you—you see me. You always have.”

You wanted to believe it. You really did.

But the internet was louder. The world was louder.

And you were so, so tired.

“I just don’t want to make your life harder.”

He leaned forward, forehead pressed to yours. “You make my life worth it.”

And for a minute, the noise faded.

The next day, Lewis went live on Instagram. He almost never did that. His fans were used to curated posts and PR campaigns. But this wasn’t that.

It was his living room. No filter. No lighting. Just him.

He looked into the camera, tired and soft and real.

“I’m only gonna say this once,” he began. “Because I don’t want to give hate more airtime than it deserves.”

Your heart stopped.

“If you think it’s okay to attack my girlfriend for existing, for loving me, for not meeting some standard you made up in your head—then you can go ahead and unfollow me right now.”

You froze.

“She’s brilliant. And kind. And stronger than anyone I know. She’s been dealing with so much of your bullshit while still showing up every day, still taking care of me, still making me laugh even when she’s hurting. And if you can’t respect her, then you don’t respect me.”

He paused. Let the silence hang like a gavel.

“I don’t care if I lose followers. I care if I lose her.”

Then he ended the stream.

Your phone blew up. DMs of love. Comments from strangers. Messages from co-stars who hadn’t texted in months. Your name trending—for the right reason, this time.

But none of it mattered.

What mattered was Lewis. Who came into the room ten minutes later, unsure if he’d overstepped, scared he’d made it worse.

And you? You ran into his arms like you hadn’t already collapsed there a thousand times before.

You buried your face in his chest and whispered, “Thank you.”

He kissed your temple. “Always.”

The audition wasn’t even supposed to happen.

Your agent called last minute. Some massive director was looking to cast the lead in a dark psychological drama—“female-led, intense, emotionally layered.” The kind of role people gave awards for.

The kind of role no one thought of you for.

You almost didn’t go.

But Lewis sat you down that morning, cupped your face in his hands, and said, “This is yours. Whether they see it or not, you show them.”

So you went.

No makeup. Just messy hair, a threadbare sweater, and the kind of performance that burned like salt in an open wound.

They didn’t even finish the auditions.

You got a call two hours later.

“You booked it,” your agent said, stunned. “They’re not even seeing anyone else.”

The press rollout was immediate. It was the most buzz you’d had since Top Gun, and even then, you’d barely been a footnote. This was different.

You weren’t Lewis’s girlfriend this time.

You weren’t the girl from the background.

You were the headline.

“Breakout Star Lands Role in Cannes-Contending Thriller”

“Underdog No More: Her Rise Is Our Revenge”

“Internet Favorite to Industry Force—She’s Just Getting Started”

Your name trended. But this time, there was no pit in your stomach. No acid in your throat. The hate still existed, sure—it always would—but it was drowned out by something bigger now.

Respect.

You were finally being seen.

Lewis surprised you with champagne and takeout the night the news dropped. You walked in to find candles, confetti, and a massive “YOU DID IT” banner sloppily taped to the ceiling. It was crooked. The tape peeled on one side. You cried anyway.

He grabbed your face and kissed you so hard your knees went weak.

“You knew this would happen,” you whispered.

He grinned. “No. I hoped. But you made it happen.”

You laughed into his neck, your fingers curling into his hoodie like you were anchoring yourself to the moment. Because for once, you weren’t drowning.

You were floating.

The filming process was brutal—in the best way.

Sixteen-hour days. Crying scenes that left your throat raw. Close-ups where your only job was to break. And you did. Over and over again. In front of cameras. In front of strangers.

You gave everything.

And people noticed.

The director—usually stone-faced and impossible to impress—started calling you “The Hurricane.” Not because you were chaotic, but because you destroyed expectations. Wiped the floor with them.

Critics got early footage and lost their minds.

“Where has she been hiding?”

“A performance that breaks you and rebuilds you in the same breath.”

“She carries the entire film on her back—and doesn’t flinch once.”

Even your old castmates reached out. The ones who’d forgotten your name at wrap parties. The ones who’d watched your rise without clapping. Suddenly, they remembered.

“I always knew you had it in you,” one texted.

You didn’t respond. But you screenshotted it. Just to remember how far you’d come.

Awards buzz came faster than you expected.

There were whispers. Rumors. One anonymous source told Variety, “She’s not just a contender—she’s the frontrunner.”

You got invited to every premiere. Every party. Designers who once ignored your stylist now begged to dress you. And you? You walked the carpets with Lewis on your arm, head high, smiling like a woman who’d been broken, stitched herself back together, and still managed to glow.

He was so proud.

He told you every day. In the quiet. In the chaos. In bed at 3 a.m. when you couldn’t sleep because the world finally liked you and somehow that scared you even more.

“Don’t let them tell you who you are,” he said, tracing circles on your back. “You’ve always been this. Even when they couldn’t see it.”

You turned toward him, eyes full, voice soft. “Thank you for waiting for them to catch up.”

He kissed you like an answer.

Then came the premiere.

Red carpet. Paparazzi. Flashbulbs so bright you could barely see.

You wore custom Chanel. Something sharp and soft all at once. Like you. Lewis stood beside you, dapper and wide-eyed like he’d just met you for the first time and couldn’t believe his luck.

The interviewers swarmed.

“Is it surreal seeing her success after everything she’s been through?” one asked Lewis.

He smiled—proud and unbothered. “She’s always been this good. The rest of you were just slow.”

You laughed. He winked.

Another reporter turned to you.

“What would you say to the people who doubted you?”

You paused. Let the camera linger. Let the world lean in.

“I’d say thank you,” you said. “Because it forced me to believe in myself louder than they disbelieved. And now—”

You looked at Lewis. Then back at the camera. “Now I get to prove them wrong by just existing.”

The internet exploded.

The clip went viral within an hour. Your follower count doubled. Fans made edits of you, side by side with scenes from Top Gun, then your new film, then candids of you and Lewis looking like the literal blueprint for “power couple energy.”

Your DMs flooded.

Not just with praise.

With apologies.

From strangers who’d left hate comments.

From girls who’d once written Twitter threads about how “mid” you were.

From influencers who now called you an “inspiration.”

You didn’t respond to any of them.

Because you didn’t need to.

You had nothing to prove anymore.

That night, back at your place, you kicked off your heels and collapsed into the couch. Lewis brought you a glass of wine and sat beside you like he always had. Not as your fan. Not as your shadow. But as your home.

“You did it,” he whispered.

You looked over at him. Exhausted. Radiant. Changed.

“We did.”

He smiled.

You set the wine down and crawled into his lap, arms around his neck.

“Hey,” you said softly.

“Yeah?”

You leaned your forehead against his. “Thank you for never treating me like I was hard to love.”

He exhaled. Shaky. Like he’d been holding that breath for months.

“You were the easiest thing I’ve ever done,” he said. “Loving you.”

And maybe it wasn’t loud. Maybe it wasn’t cinematic or sparkly or viral.

But in that moment—pressed against him, wrapped in his hoodie, laughter tangled between kisses—it was everything.

You weren’t too much anymore.

You were just enough.

[marsprincess889]

Basic themes of nakshatras

May edit this later, this is as far as I understand and have observed them, and I think it's pretty nice to see them simply.

Ashwini:

Newness, freshness, the unmanifest, speed, energy, vitality, instinct, healing, fast healing, unlimited energy, self-expression, selfishness, blocking outside noise, trusting yourself, self-empowerment, unfiltered actions.

Things that remind me of Ashwini: bees, the sun, horses, two white horses, golden deserts, horses gallopping, honey, long hair flying in the wind, apples.

Bharani:

Love, death, sex, the female, the feminine, limitations, the material, fate, destiny, coming into the body, struggling against limitations, struggling against fate, mind trapped in its own hell because of the inevitable, dealing with the harshness of life, harshness of mothers and mother nature, the hierarchy, privileges and deprivations, desire, going after your true desire, the immortality of the soul, adapting to changes, passion, tragic love, bravery, facing the truth, choicelessness, nessecity, revenge, violence, gatekeeping, reduction, denial of access, conquering your fate, everlasting beauty, immortality, eternal love.

Things that remind me of Bharani: hot pink and black, darkness, roses, the yoni, gateways, keyholes, caverns, boats, rivers, the damsel in distress, fantasy, high fantasy.

Krittika:

Adam, the main character, naming things, language, rationality, precision, sharpness, criticism, the poet, the "it" person, simplicity, cleanliness, expressing oneself, selectivity, the heat, the knowledge, the light, masculine ideals, stoicism.

Things that remind me of Krittika: knives, razors, lighers, sparks, fire, hearth, cooking.

Rohini:

Eve, sugar babies, growth, receptivity, enjoyment, pleasure, unrefined, doted on, subconcious, absorbtion, sharing, union, creation, the youngest daughter, naivete, feeling no shame.

Things that remind me of Rohini: sugar, stickiness, sweetness, heaviness, red, pink, flowers, the A.I(lol).

Mrigashira:

Distraction, realization, fickleness, adventure, running away, chasing, the hunt, excitement, softness, pleasure, altering conciousness, magic substances(iykwim), curiosity, fulfillment, insatiability, teasing.

Things that remind me of Mrigashira: silver threads, deer, green forests, green and blue, running in the woods, alcohol, the moon, Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Ardra:

Disillusion, crying, lamenting, awareness of others, awarness of other's expectations, hyper-awarness of everything, intellect, the rational mind, pressures from society, rebelling against society, anxiety, hunting.

Things that remind me of Ardra: tears, water, storms, technology, teenage angst, emo culture, the rain, sad songs, dogs.

Punarvasu:

Mercy, forgiveness, permission, freedom, flying, expansion, gentleness, regrowing, realigning, returning, home, unconditional love and nurture, celebration, peace, peacefulness, centering oneself, sunlight, warmth, fostering, taking care, being taken care of, luck, unlimited fertile space, shelter, genuine kindness, believing in humanity again, cycles, patterns, seeing the cycles and the patterns, prophecies, the oracle, openness, second (and third, fouth...) chances, a comeback.

Things that remind me of Punarvasu: staying at home, pets, plants, cats, gentle rain, a bow and arrows, a target.

Pushya:

Asceticism, routines, self-restraint, servitude, control, self-control, working, working on yourself, patience, simplicity, striving for perfection, nurturing, nourishment, quiet ambition, symmetry.

Things that remind me of Pushya: milk, milkmaids, country life, milking, symmetry, goats, sheep, agriculture.

Ashlesha:

Manipulation, abuse, poison, emotional abuse, blackmail, resorting to everything for safety, protection, pent up energy, the nervous system, purity, water, sensitivity, cleanliness, energetic build-up, tension, restraint, preservation, self-preservation, virginity, feminine tactics, being "mean" for protection, lying for safety, sensuality, mother issues, agitation.

Things that remind me of Ashlesha: the color white, transparent things, cats, poisoning, snow white, Sofia Coppola films, teenage girlhood, ties, strings, knots, snakes.

Magha:

Royalty, power, ancestry, family trees, history, the past, regality, honoring the past, honoring the elders, honoring the authority, religion, tradition, customs, confidence, ego.

Things that remind me of Magha: crowns, thrones, churches, goth culture, smoke, big hair(like the lion's mane).

Purva Phalguni:

Pleasure, enjoyment, being spoiled as the feminine, loving to spoil as the masculine, procreation, sex, leisure, art, holidays, parties, exclusivity, pride, charisma, sexual dispersion, love as a method of self-expression, admiration, directness, active pursuit of your passions, indulgence.

Things that remind me of Purva Phalguni: fruits, eating fruits topless, rose gold color, the "rizz"(lol), the phallus, dramaticism.

Uttara Phalguni:

Favors from friends, family and partners, contracts, beneficial agreements, the perfect wife, likeability, popularity, friendliness, appearing cool, stoicism, beneficial arrangements, gain through partnerships, self-expression through relationships, wife/girlrfiend material, harvest, family associations, marriage associations.

Things that remind me of Uttara Phalguni: the "chads", simplicity, genuine friends, loyal companions, family business, the perfect male stereotype, the "rich heiress running away" trope, wheat, gold, power couples.

Hasta:

The earth, the veiled feminine, manipulation, denial of access, materialism, cheating, everyday matters, empowerment of women, deception, skill, seeking knowledge, wanting to be in control, activism, street-smarts, manipulation of masses.

Things that remind me of Hasta: the hand, Goddess Persephone, skilled hands, thieves, easy money, fairies, witches, scammers.

Chitra:

Crafting, building, perspective, truth, law, gems, sacrifice for your craft, vanity, stereotypes, aesthetics, the truth in stereotypes, building based on the law and the truth, the surface of things, the appearance of things, the substance reflected in the vessel, gossip, cliques, tricks.

Things that remind me of Chitra: the god Hephestos, martian gods in general, jewelry, fashion, make-up, drama, pettiness, the coquette aesthetic, pranksters, Olivia Rodrigo(ig).

Swati:

Space, the cosmos, shifting realities, love, rebellion, alternate realities, possibilities, seeing beauty in everything, inspiration, art, the cosmic egg, creation of the world, creation of worlds, microcosm and macrocosm, freedom through love.

Things that remind me of Swati: video games, the wind, plants beggining to sprout, the sword, technology, the Sims.

Vishakha:

The lightning, snapping, splitting, joining opposites, compromise, marriage, repressed anger, repressed aggression, alter egos, passion, enthusiasm, standing up for yourself and others, repression and then expression, energy, love and hate.

Things that remind me of Vishakha: lighning bolts, Zeus, Thor and other lighning gods, superhero "Shazam", celebrations.

Anuradha:

Friendship, devotion, depth, loyalty, unconditional loyalty, bonds, the occult, sex with love, numbers, gatherings, friend groups, groups, gentleness, humbleness, discipline, seriousness, organizing society, social groups.

Things that remind me of Anuradha: the color burgundy, dim lights, bunnies, "Sex Education" (tv show), sci-fi (for some reason), "The Vampire Diaries" (and very similar teen shows), frat boys, cheerleaders.

Jyeshta:

The battlefield, war, hunger, thirst, insatiability, conquering, the underdog, street-smarts, competition, strategy, extreme independence, mind games, the art of war, survival, ruling, rising above, self-reliance, wisdom, becoming the authority, the eldest, dryness, trust issues, enemies, destroying enemies, outsmarting all enemies.

Things that remind me of Jyeshta: grandmothers, owls, eagles, dry places, flags, marching, chess.

Mula:

Horror, the abnormal, the truth, the core, the center, the absorbing darkness, the black hole, the roots, violence against falsehoods, seeking the truth, seeking the cause, seeking roots, uprooting, chaos, from chaos to order, the unchanging truth, taming beasts, holding to your truth.

Things that remind me of Mula: "Phanton of the Opera", "Twilight", final girls, horror movies, dark murky green, the wilderness.

Purva Ashadha:

Art, beauty, alliances, artistry, ideals, fighting for the ideal, discrimination, exclusivity, philosophies about beauty and art, passion for love and art, attachments, secrecy, luxury, vitality, vigor, going for victory.

Things that remind me of Purva Ashadha: the sea, seafoam, goddess Aphrodite, seashells, mermaids, sirens, fans (the ones you hold in your hand lol), Arwen from LotR.

Uttara Ashadha:

Victory, loneliness, individuality, government, empowerment, independence, being looked up to, composed self-expression, ease, simplicity but regality, confidence, self-assuredness, melancholy and hardships of aloneness but contentment, stoicism, invincibility, unapologetic behavior.

Things that remind me of Uttara Ashadha: earnest people, goddess Nike, mint color for some reason.

Shravana:

Connecting everything, secret knowledge, interest in everything, reading between the lines, subconcious access, extreme sensitivity, holding the humanity together, secret agencies, percieving what others can't percieve, saving humanity, navigating, receptivity, mysticism.

Things that remind me of Shravana: Superman, Geralt of Rivia, Aragorn, King arthur, pathways, footprints, ear, color blue, spies, astrology, outcasts, fringe societies.

Dhanishta:

Celebration, celebrities, fame, visibility, aggression, agitation, action, bringing people together, idols, propaganda, wealth from fame, that which attracts attention, public image, benefits and downsides of fame, openness and flashiness, branding, movement.

Things that remind me of Dhanishta: supermodels, Princess Diana, dancing, rhythmic drums.

Shatabhisha:

Complexities, seeing everything, lurking in shadows, holding the knowledge, secrets, secrecy, hiding, technology, innovation, being ahead of your time, advising but manipulating, society, the collective, trends, the conciousness of masses, propaganda.

Things that remind me of Shatabhisha: midnight sky, stars, the seas, water reservoirs, the circle, the all-seeing eye of Sauron(lol), Lord of the Rings, rings, the movie "Stardust" (the book too), the evil advisor/black cardinal trope.

Purva Bhadrapada:

Notoriety, expansion, uncontrolled expansion, persmissiveness, growth to ruin unless restrained, fighting for your soul, the scapegoat, going against society, getting tested, the point of no return.

Things that remind me of Purva Bhadrapada: gangs, famous criminals, laziness, femme fatales, the grotesque, deserts, werewolves, the black sheep.

Uttara Bhadrapada:

Finding grace, hardships, working, inner strength, steeliness, resilience, patience, restraint, contol, self-restraint and self-control, bravery, honesty, stubbornness, fighting for your truth, perfect control, freedom through limitations, seeking a permanent foundation built on truth, working for the foundation, long-term goals, innocence, purity of soul, stillness, refinement, honor and glory.

Things that remind me of Uttara Bhadrapada: butterflies, clouds, baby blue color, Cinderella, warriors, knights, knight orders, ice, coldness, queens, ice-queen, dragons, water dragons, deep waters, deep sea and its creatures, wings.

Revati:

Ultimate freedom, creativity, wisdom, gentleness, compassion, guiding, herding, fun, laughter, mischief, lightnness, ease, finding peace, reaching the end, enjoying what you have, contentment, nurturing, open-mindedness, conclusions, gratefulness, freedom and free will, having choices, diversity, finding the truth, true wealth, parenthood, the guide, guidance, individuation.

Things that remind me of Revati: shepherds, herding, everything easy and light, the tricksters, the fool, jokes, Loki, The Joker, fish, comedy, the movie "A Fish Called Wanda", caring for everyone and everything, light and soft shades of green and blue.

[keferon]

I’ve been reading through your Spellbound AU and thought of something funny, so naturally I wrote a short story for it.

My take on how Jazz came to work for Orion.

———————————————————————

Jazz slunk across ruined stonework overtaken by forest growth. Form shifting as subtly as the shadows he crossed.

Which would it be?

Tall and slim? Nah, that one already served it’s purpose. The twins saw something lank and dark looming in the trees, and now the young knights were distracted looking over their shoulders.

A hulking brute? No, that’d inspire an all out confrontation. Jazz already had all of them keyed up to act on instinct.

The twins were easy. Young and expecting a straight fight. Pax, his target, was harder to ruffle. He had the reputation of a courageous selfless hero and damned if the mech wasn’t dedicated to the ruse.

Pax wasn’t spooked, but he did take his underlings concerns seriously. He marched forward as a pillar of confidence and safety, but Jazz caught the way his gaze scanned the ruins. His white shadow seemed indifferent, but he was just an audience member anyways, not a real fighter.

Primed to play the part. Pax just needed his queue.

Jazz got into place on his stage. He shifted into something small and weak (in appearance alone). Bent a leg at an unhealthy looking angle, and slumped like he was exhausted and chased here.

Jazz sat with his back against the wall, the partially collapsed stone room was small enough that a mech of Orion’s stature would have difficulty moving quickly. It had the nice bonus of blocking anyone else from coming through the main entry point as well.

Through a crack in the wall, Jazz watched as the leader in blue and red got closer, his “loyal knights” lagging behind. The white one lagged as well, distracted by scolding the twins for being distracted.

Jazz focused on his target. Pulled at a thread from within Pax and strung it within his own chest.

Jazz set his new voice and with all the terror and innocence he could conjure screamed.

H̴͉̮́͂͗̐͌̍̇E̸̡̞̅̎̒͗͂L̷̛̻͎̮̽̏͝͝P̴̛̭͈͌̔̃̊͛̓ ̶͉̩̖̔͛͋̃ͅP̴̫͔̖͔̼͗̑̔͘͝L̸͓̣͖̫̭͎̊́̑̀͐̈́Ḙ̶͕̪̳̟̥͂̓̈̅͂͝Á̵̖̳̱͙͋ ̸̭̤̹̔͑͒̈͆̓͘Ȏ̵̡̥͈̪̟͛́̑͆̐͜Ḣ̷̡̻̪̘̯̹̊̂́̒͠ ̷̭̭͕̙̟̬͈̇̄̌̅̂̚̕W̸̺̯̦͔̼͇̄H̷͖͛̎͐̄͊̂͝À̶̘̙̈́̎͛̒͘ͅṰ̴̻͉̜͂̐̽̀̇ ̴̬͓̝̞̀̆̕T̸̙̖̲̺̯̆͛͜Ḥ̵̱͚͕͔̆̉ͅȆ̶͙̆́́̌̋ ̵̧͔͔̰̰̰͕̿͂̆̂̅̅F̵͕̘̰͓̓̔͜͜U̵̧̝̳̔̍̇̅̿͜͜͝Ç̵͎̎̓̒̓̊̂K̷̨̈́?̶̱͈̖̺̘͓͆̄͒͋

He slapped a hand over his mouth.

Outside, everyone went deathly quiet. Jazz didn’t dare move.

“Um.” Spoke their fearless leader.

Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons.

“Are you alright in there?”

Movement started to approach his hidey hole. Jazz could still salvage this. He could.

The white shadow came through first. Damn it. New plan: save own life.

Jazz plucked a new voice from him and made himself look as unthreatening as possible.

“ - ?! !”

Nothing. He loves the concept of nothing. Not even a celebrity crush? A favorite singer? The sound of his own voice?

Some of the functionalists were like that. That’s probably half the reason they “allowed” him to take on their commissions. All the money in their coffers wasn’t worth this however.

The white mech frowned, scanning over Jazz with a cold blue look. He turned back to the entrance, “Sir, there is a ‘hypothetically’ injured person inside the building. Most likely they orchestrated our current circumstances in an attempt to assassinate you.”

Jazz lunged from the wall, dagger slipping between armor gaps to pierce the spoil-sports spark, ready to dash past in the resulting chaos when his lifeless body guttered before them.

And just like his voice, Jazz got nothing instead.

He gaped at the way his blade cut into hollow air beneath the plates. Numbly, he pulled out his dagger and stabbed again, like it’d do something different this time. The mech was unamused.

“Sir, the assassin is trying to assassinate me.”

Jazz pulled a working voice, “I̷͕͍̓̒͝ͅ’̵̝̂m̵̼̲̓́ ̷͚̑́͗͜n̶̢̬͈̉o̷̦̓̎͝ṱ̶̟̼͒͊ ̵̨̮̠̿̀ǎ̷̫̹n̶̫̜̚̕ ̸̹͙͐a̵̛̯̻̹s̶͍̈́s̵̳̲͎͂a̷̻͉̅͆̑s̴̛̫̞̽̈s̵̳̑į̸̝̽̊n̷̙̟̤͊!̸̪̃”. And discontinued his failing assassin attempt to cringe.

A massive hand closed around Jazz’s wrist, stopping him cold.

“Do not.” Orion lessened his grip but did not release him, “Harm my friends.”

Jazz had to crane his head back considerably to make eye contact. Orion was built like a brick house and Jazz had enough experience fighting mechs like him to know his kill window was gone.

Groveling it is!

“I̷̍͝��̧̲ ̴̟̩̗̀̿̊a̵̹͙̔m̵̠̜̳͍̀̽̾̏ ̷͕͕̔̿͆̂s̸̡͋ơ̵̦̜ ̶͍̫͔͔̒̈̈́̌s̶̻͓͔̆͜ò̸͙̥̻̀r̷̢̠̈r̵̘͑̎͂y̸̰͓͆͗̔.̵̯͇́̌͒ ̵̳̞̏̇̕I̶̦͚̦͠’̸̞̯͙̟́ḿ̵̢̜̅̍͜ͅ ̴̮̩͓̀̓̈͜j̷̻̒̀u̷̯͂͋ŝ̴̭͇̱͎͑͆ẗ̶͎̬͗́͝ ̷̥̰̗̃a̸̼̫̦̾̚ ̶͕͉̓͌͋͝d̴͖̗̰̒̎̈͘ͅe̸̗̞̤̲̽͗̈́͛s̸̖͐p̵̢̎͊e̴̢͖͉͑̿̾͘r̶̩̬̰̈́́ą̵̧̰̋̊͝t̶̻̯̞̦̆e̷̱̥̪̍͜ ̴̠̱̼̣̌̾t̴̙̐̔h̵̟̪͈͛̚ǐ̶͕ě̴̻̺f̸͕̠̯̤̀̆!̷̗̩̩̃̽ ̷̮̩̆̾Ǐ̷͍̭ ̴͕͕́ṅ̸̗̰e̸̯̱̝͚͆͂v̴̛͓͉͇̍́e̴̺̞͖͂͑̏͐͜r̶̢̼͠ ̴̗͙̐͒̋̚m̸͓͆͐e̶̱̩͕̐̚͠a̵͉͇̟̺̋̇̑n̶̢̖̙̣̾͝t̷̘̔ ̵̦̉̈́̈́͗t̵̳̻͇̔̎̃͜o̴͈͖̓ ̵̬̦̞͖͌͋͂͆h̷̲̓͑̎̃a̵̛͇̾͗r̵̠̗̩̾̏̈̚m̸̭̃ ̷̢̗͇͈͑͊a̵̧̠͑̒̚ ̵̢͉̮̌̀k̵̼͈͎̳͒̀̐͂ǹ̸̛̘͈͔í̶͓̜̜͉g̸̨̖̗̜̽͊ĥ̷͉̫͉̻̾̽̉t̵̜̣̲̹̑ ̸̡͒̃o̶̮͉̺͝r̷̬̎̓̚͝ ̵̡̠̩̓̈́̐̏ḣ̶̨͖̼̥̎́i̶̖̋͝s̷̻͍̭̒͜ ̵̢̖͓̿̍̌̾f̶̣̜̒̎r̶̝̈͊̍̋ǐ̶̝͓̱̱̆̐ẹ̷́̅n̴̢̛̘̍ḑ̷̪̈́̀͒̚ŝ̷͍̹!̷̪͙͕̬̐ ̵̨̡͆̏P̸̧̢̼̿͝l̶̡̧͔̳̍̉͋̆ẽ̶͉ȁ̸̦̜̤̀̉ͅs̴̮̙͍̘̐̂̉e̴͇͚͊̔̈́͋ ̸̧̳͒̈̃͠h̸̡̧̰͛̈͐ͅḁ̷͔̗̱̓̌̉v̸͖̼͓̜̽̏ę̵̬̤͎̄̅̓͆ ̷͍̯̗̥̋̀͛̉m̸̹͈͔̑͂͠ͅé̴͎͕ȑ̴̢̖̘̎c̴͙͇͙̤̐̔͒̕y̷̨͈͗͛͛!̶̹͝͝”

Orion cringed behind the mask.

“I- I’m sorry I don’t think I quite understood that.” He paused, “Would…you like a cough drop?”

Orion seemed to take stock of what he had on him, patting his sides with his free hand. He turned to the white mech.

“Prowl, would you happen to…um nevermind.” He turned to the twins, “Sunstreaker?Sideswipe? Do either of you have a cough drop?”

The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity.

Jazz plucked a voice from the twins and couldn’t care less which it came from.

“Listen!” Oh thank fuck the twins were normal.

Jazz smiled while slowly uncurling Orions fingers from his wrist. Prowl narrowed his gaze at the new voice.

“You got me! I’m a thief! And I panicked! And I am so, so, so-.”

“A mimic.”

Smile frozen in place, Jazz turned his head so slowly there was an audible grounding noise.

Prowl remained impassive.

“Um.” And Orion…let him? Pull his wrist free. “Are you going to continue trying to kill me?”

Jazz snapped back to Orion, his target. The words aren’t what gave him pause, but how he said them. Like he just asked Jazz “Are you sure you want to go with puce green?” As if the mech was more concerned that Jazz was going to make a poor decision than for his own wellbeing.

“No.” Jazz said definitively. Because Primus knows he lost the upper hand now and wasn’t aiming to try again so soon.

“Are you genuinely in need of money? Food and shelter?” Orion continued, optics softening.

Jazz didn’t recognize the play. He bit his lip beneath the cowl.

Jazz decided to capitalize on whatever got him the most sympathy. He nodded seriously. “Yes. Of course. It’s not easy when the functionalists decide you’re a monster.” A bit of a lie and a bit of the truth. His favorite combination.

“Do you like your current employers?” Orion asked and Prowl started to narrow his optics.

“No…I don’t.” Jazz answered without enough dishonesty to feel comfortable.

Orion kneeled so he was on optic level with him. “Would you like to join my order?”

And when Jazz just stared at him he continued. “You’d be free to leave if you ever found it not to your liking. And your skills would be very useful in keeping people safe. And of course we’d ensure safe lodgings, fair pay and-.”

“Sir.” Prowl ground out with the most emotion Jazz had ever seen from the guy. “He tried. To assassinate you.”

“Well, he wasn’t very invested.” He shrugged.

Orion looked at Prowl. The twins looked at each other. Jazz looked at an opportunity.

“Deal.” Jazz took Orions hand, shaking it before his better thinking caught up to him.

Orion’s optics crinkled in delight. “Wonderful! Welcome to the Autobot Order!”

Prowls face betrayed nothing, but Jazz hadn’t spent his entire life studying people to miss the way something ever so subtly cracked under Prowls stoney facade.

Jazz didn’t need their Order to survive. But he had become desperately curious to know what in Pimus’ sweet name was going with those two. And more importantly, after outing him twice in a row, Jazz was going to BREAK Prowl.

“T̴͓̹̚h̸͖̘̀̈͠e̸̡̗̳͊̓͝ ̴͚̘͆n̶͉̰͐͜ą̸̦̉m̸̮͙͋é̴͉̫̥͘s̴̮̔͑̄ ̶̰̚J̷͎̀͝a̸̟͎̽̒̇z̷̰̆͑͜͝z̵̨͎̈́.̴͎́ ̷̡͉̱̒̾̕N̵̳͚̈͘i̴͙̓̎c̶̪̅̆ḛ̸̂͂ ̷̰̻̊͝ͅt̷͖̤̓͋o̴̗͇̭͑̿͛ ̴̮̹̉̃͜m̴̼͈̝̍ë̸̗̫̘́̊͌ē̸̘̹̅t̷̛��̙̫ ̵͙̎̄y̵̩͂̓̚a̴͉̲̪͌̍.̶̖̻̒”

———————————————————————

The silent sentence was “Did you hear that horrib- Huh?! OH COME ON!”

I just really liked the idea that because Jazz talks in Shockwaves voice around Orion, the first time it happened everyone nearly shit themselves.

-SSTP

"Who apparently had thing for asthmatic dragons."

LMAO

"The twins searched their pockets for a magically appearing cough drop. Jazz searched for his sanity." AHAHAJCZTYLVXFUJKCDYKFSS HELP

Jazz, looking at OP: There is something really wrong with you. Five weirdness points out of five.

Jazz, looking at Prowl: ........I need a new scale

[gaddaboutgriffon]

Red X Redemption

Based on this thread post.

Dan hadn’t set out to become the teen nitwits newest rogue. But using an already built name got him customers a lot faster then if he had to start from scratch. And the annoying bird wasn’t using it anyway. Though in hindsight maybe if he hadn’t stolen the Red X suit and name he wouldn’t have gotten the baby heroes attention so fast. Oh well, he had needed money fast at the time, and there was no changing it now.

Instead he focuses on ditching the chumps. He had the artifact in his bag. Once they’re off his tail he can make the drop, get paid enough to last three months and be done for the night.

He doges a reaching shadow tendril and throws a sticky X at the goth girl. It landed right over her mouth where he had aimed startling her into ending the spell. She was good but still relied on occasionally speaking her encantation which was his first clue she wasn’t that experienced. Still she was the main reason why he never used his ghost powers while out on a job. Little miss half demon would be able to sense it a mile away, but she didn’t notice anything when he was in human form.

Ugh that he hated being reminded that when his future timeline faded he would have too, if his younger self hadn’t convinced Vlad to make a clone body to be fused with. He will never thank the old creep but that human half that came with the clone body was really helpful now.

Dan slipped under a green star bolt. Then used a net X to tangle up the green shapeshifter and tin man. He grinned under his skull mask as they yelped from the electric shock. He landed on a roof top and went to jump again when his cape snagged. I cost him a precious second to pull it free of the “bird-arangs” that had pinned it. Now brat wonder was engaging him with a boe staff, and slowing him down so the others could catch up.

“You really don’t know when to quit.” Dan grunts as he tries to tangle Robin’s feet with another sticky X.

“Don’t know the meaning.” Robin quips back dodging the sticky X with experienced grace. But it left him open for a punch.

Dan may have used a bit of his ghost strength to send the bird flying since that doesn’t register to the magic user. He took off again, dodging Cyborg’s sonic blasts, but his own ghost sense went off. He skidded to a stop and backflips to avoid Desiree suddenly appearing in front of him.

“Give me the eye of Iris!” The ghost genie shouted at him, lunging for the duffle bag on his back.

“Sorry, already got a buyer, and I know your credit’s no good.” He spun out of her way and ran back towards the Titans. If he was lucky he could get them fighting her and he could slip away before his younger self showed up.

His plan worked. The titans predictably began fighting the load mouth ghost after she yapped about the eye of iris would give her unlimited power or whatever. Red X made it to the drop point nearly three blocks away and got his cash passing the item off to the buyer. He then made his way back to the back to one of his cache points and retrieved his duffel bag. That is when his luck finally ran out for the night, when a pink wave went past and caused some bolts to fly off the the hook holding steel girders and fall in from of Dan blocking the alley exit in front of him.

“Ugh, seriously not my night.” Dan groaned as pulled the Red X mask back on that he had just taken of not two minutes ago.

“The headmaster really doesn’t like his generous invitation to be unanswered. Not everyone gets offered a full scholarship to the Hive after all.”

Great, it’s the pink witch and her techs and brute sidekicks. He flipped the duffel bag strap over his shoulder so it was secure and ready to run, and answered “I already told him this Solo act wasn’t interested in joining his clown school.”

He turned with a ready grappling hook to leave, but a long metal spider leg shot out and Pericles the brick wall next to him. Purposefully missing by inches as an unsuccessful intimidation tactic.

“Doesn’t work like that, fart sniffer.” The annoying techy sneered.

Butter biscuits! These guys were going to make him late picking up Ellie from the sitter’s. Months ago Dan had found Danielle destabilizing and used his own ecto and what little he knew of ghost medicine to save her. But he must have done it wrong since she for some reason aged down to a two year old. Which lead to his Red X career, cause while he could live fine backpacking cross country by himself he needed a more stable home and food for Ellie.

Now he contemplated using his ghost powers to break the Hive lackeys, but he knew someone else from the hive always watched from a distance and if they saw his real powers they really wouldn’t leave him in peace.

His ghost sense then warned him of unwanted guests coming in fast. He used the grapple to get up to the roof barely dodging as Desiree crashed into the Hive nitwits in the alley. Now on the roof all the titans were surrounding him.

He took a ready stance to jump back into the alley and hope he could use the same truck twice getting his enemies to fight each other again. But then he spotted the worst thing his rotten luck could throw at him. His timeline doppelgänger flying in from the horizon.

He ignored whatever bird boy was saying and turned back to the alley. Only to see the Hive idiots and Desiree coming up to join the party on the roof.

“Alright Desiree! I chased you across country, and had enough! Time for you to go back to the ghost Zone!” Phantom shouted as he stopped to hover over the group.

Just when Dan thought things couldn’t get bad enough he felt the duffel bag on his back move and the zipper opened for Ellie to pop her head out. “Why so loud? ‘M Seepy” she grumbled. Guess he wouldn’t be paying the baby sitter after all.

“Wha- Ellie! A Oh my ancients, You’re alive!” Phantom zipped down to them. Now he was too close in range for Dan to hide the ecto signature. “Wait, Dan?! You saved our little sister! Have you been taking care of her this whole time?” Phantom then hugged both of them.

Dan wanted both more then to disappear right then. His secret identity is blown and he was going to have to start over from scratch with a new one.

“Dude, I think we really mis judged Red X” he heard the Green titan say. Confirming his reputation was now shot to Swiss cheese.

Deep underground Slade watched the whole thing on his many monitors. “Well if Robin won’t be my apprentice. I’ll see if this one is more agreeable.

(Ok small note. I went with the name Ellie, cause I like it better and Dani, Dan and Danny gets really repetitive…. Anyway I look forward to seeing what you guys add on!)

[kestalsblog]

Basic Tips to Improve Your Writing

I used to read a lot of unprofessional writing online, and through that endeavor, I started mentally compiling different qualities that turned me off to people's work right away. I'm sharing some of my thoughts about ways to improve your writing so others don't click off your work right away!

-Change paragraphs when different characters are speaking.

-In that same thread, remember to make new paragraphs and not have one giant block of text. This isn't only discouraging for some readers, but actually physically impossible to read for those who are visually impaired.

-Learn grammar. Sorry, but there is no way around this one. For example, commas aren't just for aesthetic appeal or your personal choice, and it will turn some readers away if your writing is littered with grammatical errors. You can't break the rules for creative purposes if you don't even know them, and the difference is generally apparent.

-Remember the narration style you've chosen. For example, if you're writing in third person limited, you can't think outside the mind of your main character. Don't jump suddenly to the thoughts of other characters or an all-knowing, omniscient voice.

-Slow down. Each word matters, so try not to think of writing as "I must get from Point A to Point B," but "I must get from Point A to Point B beautifully."

-Avoid repeating the same word or phrase too much, especially within the same paragraph. There are exceptions in dialogue, of course. (It's sweet when writers acquire their own personalized phrasings that mark their voice, but I have turned away from works where the exact same line just kept coming up again and again).

-Don't forget about setting. You might be able to imagine where your characters are, but no one else can if you don't let them know.

-Use a consistent verb tense.

-Your characters are not you and generally shouldn't always be mouthpieces for you to share your own values and thoughts.

-Your characters should sound distinctly different from each other, including their talking styles.

-Don't bog the reader down with too much description, and make sure the description you do have is realistic. Think about it. In the morning, do you wake up, go to the mirror, and think to yourself, "I looked at my shaggy dark hair and emerald green eyes"? Nobody thinks that way about their own appearance, and it feels like a forced way to let the reader know what the main character looks like.

-Also, related, there's no need to start tossing out every character trait for each character if it's not relevant to the story.

-Last, show some passion and excitement for your own work. Make sure the language embodies that passion because if you don't even care about your writing, who will?

[bunny-jpeg]

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ angel eyes - max v., charles l., carlos s., lando n.,♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

to say that this was casual was an feeble attempt to lie to yourself. as you watched the men in front of you strip. booze and cigarettes passed around with you as the main star. you were growing desperate with time running out. your career felt like it was tethered by a thread. you had seen how easily they cut sargeant and you felt like you were next. your neck on the chopping block for some younger driver that the team could shape into a superstar. but unlike sargeant, you knew how to secure your place.

the men watched you as you got out of the clothes you wore to the track. the alpine shirt over your head, exposing your breasts to them. you could feel their hungry gaze on you. you felt more exposed than at any other point in your life. you were nothing more than meat to be groped and fucked. but their promises hung heavy in your mind as you took off your jeans.

if tonight goes well, then you'll have a seat next season.

carlos was the first to make a comment as charles poured him more wine. the two ferrari men chuckled between one another. you tried to look away, but max's domineering voice cut through, asking for your eyes forward. you weren't going to coward out. lando shifted in his seat and kept his eyes on the curves of your body. this was debauchery, this would be considered sinful across every church in europe. it was a sick affair and it let you running hot. you looked to max and he looked at you over the rim of his glass, he took a drink before he got up from the couch, he went over to you. a hand on the back of your head as he made you look up at him. his other thumb dragged across your bottom lip as he gazed down at you. he asked one you simple thing, are you going to behave tonight? and with everything you had in you. you nodded and said, yes sir. then you were put on your knees to get to work. in front of your audience.

a naked formula one driver kneeling in front of the top four on the track. if the press knew, if your teams knew, it would be a field day. there were many women who yearned for the company of at least one of them. but you had all four of them leering at you and as you were at max's feet, like a dog. their gazes hungry, the lust was heavy in the room along with sweat and a heat that not even the air conditioning could get rid of. heat lingered, just like the lust that pumped in your veins. even if this felt degrading, it was necessity.

max's cock wasn't the biggest out of the four of them, you'd refuse to say who was the biggest (you didn't need a fight). but as it rubbed up against your face, pre cum drooled onto your cheek before you turned to take it in your mouth. your mouth was so soft that it almost made max crumble. instead he gripped onto the back of your head and pushed his cock into the back of your throat. there were a few tears in your eyes as he started to work your mouth onto his cock. in front of an audience no less. you whimpered with your nose in max's pubic hair as he broke down your gag reflex. you clawed at his thighs before he told you, put those hands to work because i'm not doing your job for you. and without a second thought you started to rub your bare clit. the side of your hand rubbed harshly across your achy pussy. you were soaked and the sounds of your wetness could be heard as you played with yourself. which was a siren's call and the other men stroked their cocks painfully. max worked at your throat and it made you hot all over. the more you pleasured yourself the harder your sucked him off. his praise was mostly hot groans as he guided you up and down his length. he could feel the heat splash across his neck as he fucked your throat even harder. he said something to the other men, but your brain wasn't processing anything. most of the night the men spoke like you weren't in the room or that you were a piece of furniture in the corner. a toy. you continued to pleasure yourself and when max choked you on his cock as he finished, you came as well from the rush to your brain. words were spoken to him and you felt on another planet. when max took his cock out of your mouth, you coughed on the cum in your throat, some coming up across your chin.

before you could think straight once more, carlos had you by the arm. on shaky legs he got you back to the couch then pushed over the back of it. there was enough room for the (soon to not be) ferrari driver and his teammate to use your pussy and throat once more. you prayed that no one asked you questions come morning. carlos took your pussy while charles took your throat. while their cocks weren't impressive when you gazed at them briefly. but when they were shoved inside of you, your eyes rolled back a little. your toes curled as the two fucked you at the same pace. you choked on charles' cock because carlos' cock was up in your stomach. it felt like you were being squished between the two of them. you could hear the two of them talk, even exchanging short laughs and when you looked up at charles to be let in on what they were talking about. but instead charles tapped your nose and you obediently closed your eyes and let his cock hit against your throat some more. your noises were muffled as the two men fucked you feverishly. you could feel the hungry gaze on a sated max and a horny lando. the heavy panting, the soft noises, the creaking of the couch as you laid over it like a doll. you were at their service for the night. the doll of formula one, well rather a lamb the men supposed. soft to the touch, with meat so tender that the other driver's wanted to devour it. you whined a little bit as you clawed at the leather of the couch, it sticking to your sweaty body. everything about it was hot, but yet you were going to be achy come morning. regardless, you had a job to do. you arched your back and whimpered around the other's cock as you felt their paces stagger. you knew it was close for them. pleasure curled in your gut, as you orgasmed once more. it made everything hot all over. without thinking you accepted their cum. you were left over the couch when both men stopped and pulled out. charles' cum lingered in your throat as you gasped for air. your throat was painfully raw. you whimpered when carlos slapped your ass and laughed.

you swore once the ferrari drivers were done with you, lando would show you mercy. but out of all of them, lando wanted you the most. after all he was the one to proposition this entire thing. he was the first driver in your ear. he spun a narrative about how oscar might be jumping shift, but he wasn't too sure if your abilities would be useful at mclaren. and when lando saw you nervously bite your thumbnail, his tale only grew. oscar piastri wasn't going anywhere, but lando was more than happy to sink his cock into you. you ended up on the carpet once more, lando barely got a pillow under your ass before he was fucking you missionary position. he wanted to see every expression that crossed your face. you whimpered and whined, long ago losing most control over your ability to keep quiet. you felt outside your body from the sheer amount of orgasms that had been pulled from you. lando thrusted with such a fever that it left you gagging for more. you tried to find leverage on the carpet but instead got burns across your back and hands. lando loomed over you like a shadow as he kept you pinned to the pillow and therefore the floor by your hips. your legs kicked out as he rammed his cock up against your cervix. if it wasn't bruised, it would be purple by now. you'd be limping for the rest of the season because of it, because of how lando wrecked you. lando's mouth made more marks across your neck and collarbones. adding to the collection left by carlos. you looked towards the couch and found the other exhausted drivers on there. across it and down the sectional. naked, cock's leaky. but lando grabbed you by the jaw and glared down at you. he told you to keep your eyes on him. a head of jealousy showing in a situation where you were used like a rag. with a few more heavy thrusts of his hips, his cock bruising your insides as he finished inside of you. everything went blank in your brain for a moment. pleasure took you under the waves and you could only think about your heavy panting.

you didn't know how long you were laying out on the carpet. you blinked open your eyes and saw max looming over you. you noticed his cock was at full attention and leaky. some pre cum dripped off his cum and down his cock, but a little bit landed on your chin. you couldn't see his eyes, but you knew his gaze was stern. he said one thing, if you want a contract and less bruising. you have three seconds to get to the bed.

you don't know how you ended up in bed, but by morning everything felt sore. you took an extra long time in the shower and kept your jacket to your chin, no one would see the damage done last night. you'd get your contract, even from mclaren. but, sometimes it's not good to wish for things. because whichever team you pick, you're going to have three other hungry pairs of eyes on you. if you go to ferrari, max will find a way to get you over to red bull. go to williams and lando would be pulling a few more strings to get you in orange. and if they couldn't get their way with you on the track, then they'd simply have to make sure to claim your pussy as their own. eventually you'd have to pick one of them (not that you had much to say otherwise). you soon became a prize more important between the top drivers than the championship. because while trophies were nice, having their favourite driver prance around in their colours was even nicer. <3