#find the derivative of root x

[assriels]

gravity

pairing: lucien x reader

summary: falling in love with lucien felt like trying to resist gravity and realizing it’s a futile pursuit. slowly, and then all at once.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: none/mostly fluff!

a/n: i played around a little bit with my writing style and i really enjoyed it :’) also i’m only capable of writing fluff for lucien i think lol

masterlist

banners by @/cafekitsune !

lucien: derived from the Latin root word lux, meaning light. 

When you had first felt yourself falling for Lucien Vanserra some odd years ago, you had been keeping a watchful eye on him — per Rhys’s request — upon his initial arrival to the Night Court under the guise that you would help him research ways to persuade the human queens to your cause against Hybern. 

Initially, it had been just that. A favor for your High Lord, your friend. 

But what had once felt like a vague indifference for the youngest Vanserra brother quickly devolved into a genuine appreciation for him. The more time you spent with Lucien, the more you glimpsed the light peeking out from beneath his guarded exterior.

(You nearly laughed at how aptly Lucien lived up to the brightness belying the meaning of his name.)

It had started with friendly teasing, then secret smiles over piles of textbooks, then not so accidental touches in the quiet of the townhouse. With each evolution of your relationship with Lucien, the more and more you found yourself wanting to be around him, seeking each other out with flimsy excuses that would guarantee a day’s worth of cherished company. 

The inextricable desire you had to be near him that was growing exponentially with every subtle glance he stole had made you nervous. Wary, even. 

You were an academic – the coveted researcher for the Night Court – relying heavily on concepts you could study, could quantify. Well-evidenced theory informed much of your advice to Rhys and his court, and you were often the first point of contact when anyone had any questions about…anything; your wealth of knowledge was endless.

But Lucien — his undeniable magnetism — was an enigma; you could never quite understand why you’d felt so drawn to him, could never formulate an accurate hypothesis for how easily he could coax a smile to your lips and make butterfly wings tickle your stomach.

But it was becoming increasingly evident that he felt the same indisputable pull that you did. He had spent much of his time in your presence, bringing you tea in the late hours of the nights you spent in the townhouse’s reading room, poring over tomes and texts that you and Amren had thought might be useful. Lucien always made the excuse that he made too much tea and didn’t want it to go to waste. 

(Later, you’d find out that he didn’t even really like the tea he brought you every night, only brewing an excessive amount of it because Feyre had offhandedly mentioned it was your favorite.) 

He was rarely there to give his opinions, merely lingering to offer his quiet companionship, situating himself in a comfortable lounge chair in your periphery as he perused the pages of his book of choice. More often than not, he’d fall asleep in what had to be a supremely uncomfortable position, untouched tea cooling on the table. 

It was in those sweet and fragile beginnings of your relationship with Lucien that you had begun to contemplate the potential cosmic underpinnings of your mutual fondness for each other, and what that could mean for you and your future. 

Orbiting each other like stars caught in the same gravitational field, you and Lucien were on a steady course of stellar collision, sure to erupt in some unexplainable astral phenomenon that would certainly result in your doom. Or your salvation. 

(It was the latter.)

The same way you could track the trajectory of an apple falling from a tree and calculate the force with which it would hit the ground, you could guess — with near one hundred percent accuracy — how hard you would fall for Lucien. It was a dangerous descent, you knew, but one that you could hardly fight against. 

Despite being quite the closet romantic — how could you not be, with the knowledge of endless possibilities at your fingertips? — you had been hesitant to pursue anything more with Lucien, wanting to preserve the innocent, lighthearted flirtations that had come so easily between you. You’d been hurt before, been wickedly tricked into the dangerous downward spiral of broken promises and fleeting loyalty of lovers past. And you’d be damned if you’d let yourself make that mistake again. 

But Lucien…

Lucien was all of things your previous paramours had not been. He was kind and gentle and genuine. Funny and insufferably sweet. He was a wonderfully fresh breath of air in an otherwise stagnant atmosphere. 

He had his darkness — he’d admitted as much to you himself. But he had never hidden it from you, had even allowed you the privilege of holding the most tender parts of his past in your hands to examine, always providing ample opportunities for you to deny him, decide that you didn’t want all the pieces of his whole after all.

You had never been afraid of the dark, though, not in the literal or metaphorical sense. It was comforting, quiet, familiar. Besides, before Lucien, you had never found a light bright enough to fear the return of the dark. 

But when faced with the sheer enormity of the warmth his light provided, suddenly you were afraid of its absence. You wanted only to spend your time basking beneath the sun you had discovered beneath Lucien Vanserra’s ribs. 

It was torturously paradoxical, how the more you chased Lucien’s light the more you were plunged into the dark unknown of what loving him would mean, and how afraid you had become. But resisting Lucien’s solar gravity was like trying to defy the very laws that governed the universe you were lucky enough to live in with him: near impossible. 

The way he so effortlessly drew you to him, enticed you to trust him, open yourself to him was something that the greatest physicists of your time could never explain. It was a mystery you weren’t sure you wanted solved for fear that once discovered, he’d be taken from you; you selfishly wanted to keep Lucien’s impossibly beautiful energy to yourself. 

He was undefinable in his unwavering loyalty and limitless consideration. Lucien’s love for you seemed to be as intrinsically written into his existence with the same certainty that you knew the sun would rise over the horizon every morning. It was with that same certainty that you knew falling in love with him was inevitable, and fighting it was a futile resistance of gravity.

So you had let yourself fall, let yourself dive deep into the unknown, praying – begging, really – to whatever gods that were listening that this wasn’t another funnel towards heartbreak. 

You fell with maddening speed and Lucien caught you – having already fallen long ago – with all of the warmth of the sun that his name promised.

If your past self had ever doubted the stability of loving Lucien Vanserra (read: you did), none of that doubt existed in you now. Especially in moments like this: skin to skin in the morning light of the first spring day in the Night Court. Three years since you and Lucien (separate) became you and Lucien (duo), you could hardly believe that you ever considered any other choice but him.

The sun was warm on your back as you lay on your side, arm tucked comfortably beneath your head as you listened to Lucien give you his annual spiel about how the springs in the Spring Court were unbeatable, though the Night Court did have some acceptable weather sometimes. You giggled at his remarkable consistency, love and fondness filling the space between your ribs, momentarily seizing your heart to flutter giddily.

“Okay, Lu,” you responded in mock exasperation. “And then in the fall –”

“Autumn,” he corrected, just to jest further.

“ – you’re going to tell me that the Autumn Court has the best autumns.”

“Naturally.” His grin was blinding as he teased you, pressing a firm kiss between your brows. 

You rolled your eyes but gave in, leaning in towards him – always leaning in towards him (that pesky gravity again).

“But I guess your court,” he continued, “has us beat as far as stargazing goes.”

“Naturally,” you mimicked, winking.

His laugh was a resounding bell of warmth and you took the opportunity to drink him in, warm skin tinted pink with joy and the heat of the morning sun. His hair was disheveled with sleep, but he was impossibly effortless in his beauty.  

The freckles on his cheeks reminded you a lot of the stars that illuminated the streets of Velaris, and you spent the next few hours of the early morning drawing constellations on his skin and fabricating stories of their origin while Lucien’s own fingers drew matching patterns onto your back.

He whispered cheesy lines about how you outshone all of the stars in your beloved Night Court, and then his cheeks dimpled — beautiful craters of mirth — as he smiled at your feigned incredulity. He kissed you then, and you once again found yourself at the mercy of his gravitational pull, your body arching almost instinctively against his in an effort to satisfy your craving for the feel of his skin against yours. 

Lucien – as always – indulged you, snaking a muscled arm around your waist to pull your body flush against his as he whispered in your ear about how he had heard once that freckles were the spots that past life lovers had kissed the most. In an act of petulant pseudo jealousy at the idea that someone had the privilege of loving Lucien before you, you spent the rest of the morning peppering his skin in a thousand kisses. 

“No need to be jealous, my love,” he said as you anchored your lips to the apple of his cheek. “I’m certain that in every life before this one, I enjoyed the pleasure of your affections. And I will continue to find you in every one after.”

Maybe that was it. Maybe the undeniable, visceral need to have him, be with him, love him was written into your bones by the infinite previous lives you spent within each others’ orbit. Your devotion to Lucien seemed as intrinsic as the laws of the universe; there was no life in which you did not feel the warmth of his yearning. 

You hummed in contented agreement, feeling as though you’ve just discovered the unthinkable as you continued your quest, reveling in the gentle shiver you earned with a well placed kiss to the junction of his jaw and neck. For a brief moment, you made a mental note to thank whatever force – physical, cosmic, celestial – that had bound you and Lucien together.

[strwberryblast]

hey kitten… licks lips… i’m requesting 😝

𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 | Monoma x Fem!Reader

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

It was no surprise to anyone that Monoma had a strong dislike for Class 1-A, regularly belittling and taunting them out of spite. You were particularly aware of this, as he seemed to target you the most, often making you his prime victim whenever you were around.

You were certain he had it out for you, but what you didn’t realize was that Monoma actually fallen for you. He thought that by provoking you and drawing your attention, he might get you to notice him in return. After all, any attention, even if it was negative, was still attention in his eyes.

Monoma’s relentless taunting had become a daily routine. As a short-tempered girl, you often fought back against Monoma, resulting in frequent clashes that needed to be separated by Kendo. Despite your best efforts to ignore him, you found it nearly impossible. You wanted nothing more than to wipe that taunting smirk off his face, though he found your face adorable during these exchanges when you’d cross your arms and furrow your brows at him, with an annoyed look etched on your face.

"Haha, why do you look so mad?" Monoma would tease, poking at you with a grin that only seemed to infuriate you more.

You’d groan and shoot him a look of frustration. "Why do you look like that?" you’d retort snarkily, causing him to laugh even harder.

The dynamic between you and Monoma was anything but ordinary. His provocations, though seemingly rooted in rivalry, masked his true feelings for you. Each snide comment and each mocking laugh was, in his twisted way, a way to draw you in. He had hoped that by irritating you, he would get you to notice him more, perhaps even to care about him in some way.

It was a frustrating cycle. Every day, you found yourself caught between your desire to ignore him and the irresistible urge to engage with his provocations. His taunts seemed to hit a nerve, making it all the more difficult to remain indifferent. Kendo, who often found herself playing the role of peacemaker, would regularly step in to defuse the tension between you two, often consisting of her knocking Monoma, apologizing before dragging him away.

Despite the antagonistic interactions, there was an undeniable undercurrent to your exchanges. The way Monoma would focus intently on your reactions, the way he seemed to derive a certain satisfaction from your every response—it completely infuriated you, but part of you found joy in these exchanges, finding the bicker amusing.

As the weeks passed, Monoma’s behavior became more nuanced. While he still taunted you, there was a noticeable shift in his approach. His comments, though still sharp, carried a hint of something else—something that was less about aggravation and more about trying to get under your skin in a way that felt oddly personal.

The more you interacted with him, the more you began to see glimpses of the person behind the mask of hostility. It wasn’t that his behavior became entirely friendly or accommodating, but there was a certain awkward sincerity that started to emerge. He would occasionally offer a begrudging compliment or make an effort to engage with you in a way that was less about confrontation and more about connection.

One afternoon, after another of his usual jabs, Monoma found himself alone, reflecting on his behavior. He had observed you from a distance, noting the way you carried yourself with a resilience that both impressed and frustrated him. It struck him then how much he admired your strength and determination. This realization made him question whether his method of drawing attention was really the best approach.

In a rare moment of introspection, Monoma decided he needed to try a different tactic. He approached you, not with the usual barrage of insults but with a more genuine attempt at conversation. His compliment, though awkwardly phrased, was sincere. “You did well today,” he said, his tone lacking its usual edge.

You were taken aback by the change. It wasn’t the typical antagonism you had come to expect from him. You looked at him with a puzzled expression, trying to reconcile the shift in his demeanor with the usual dynamic between you.

“What did you do to Monoma?” you asked with a smirk, raising an eyebrow and adopting a mock-serious tone. “Did you get a personality transplant or something?”

Monoma blinked at you, clearly caught off guard by your question. He gave you a confused look, as if trying to process whether you were joking or genuinely concerned. “Uh, no? I’m still me. Why do you ask?”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his reaction. “Well, it’s just… you’re acting all nice and stuff. Did someone put a spell on you or are you secretly a nice guy now?”

Monoma’s eyes widened slightly, and he scratched his head, looking genuinely puzzled. “I promise, no spells involved. Maybe I just figured out that being less of a jerk might be a good idea.”

You laughed outright at his attempt to explain himself. “Wow, is this a new Monoma era? Should I prepare for world domination or just get used to the idea of you being less insufferable?”

Monoma smirked, letting his teasing behavior peek through. “Hey, don’t get used to it. I might just go back to being a pain in the ass if you start enjoying it too much.”

You shook your head, still smiling. “I’ll take the nice Monoma while I can. It’s a refreshing change of pace.”

Monoma’s smirk softened into a genuine smile. “Good to know. I guess I’ll keep this up then—at least for a little while.”

•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•••·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·•·••

please read request rules before requesting ! :)

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[thisblogisaboutabook]

hi! i saw that you were writing acotar fics inspired by taylor’s songs (which i both love so this is amazing), do you think you can write a fic based on “ivy” ? it always makes me think about the acotar world for some reason. maybe with azriel if you’re okay with that ?

Am I okay with that?? I’m more than okay with that! Perhaps even elated! Azriel is my fav and I had the pleasure of seeing Taylor and Aaron perform Ivy together at the Eras Tour. Thank you so much for the incredible ask!

Ivy (covered in you)

An ACOTAR oneshot inspired by Taylor Swift

Azriel x Reader

Update: Find the bonus chapter here: Solstice Tree Farm (Christmas Tree Farm)

warnings: attempted SA, dub-con, suggestive, language

Warm lips pressed against my forehead as calloused fingertips deftly pushed aside the stray hairs that had slipped over my face.

We’d been wrapped up here for hours. An incandescent glow emanating from us that had nothing to do with the warm fire shrouding us in its flickering light. A plush blanket draped over our naked forms as my hands roamed freely underneath. His skin was warm, heavenly, every sacred inch of it bringing solace to my frigid heart. His own heart responsible for melting away the frost that covered it most of the time.

I leaned up to look at him, this male whom I loved with every ounce of my being. Looked into those golden-flecked hazel eyes that bore straight into my soul, seeing all of me, every cursed inch.

“You’re mine.” I whispered, pulling a large scarred hand over my breast, letting him feel the heart that beat so effortlessly in his presence. “Always mine, right in here.”

His hand lingered there, eyes filled with reverence as he absorbed each beat of my heart, every thought that filled my head, the entirety of my soul that was consumed with him - screamed that it loved him, desired him, belonged to him. Minutes passed like that. My fingers tracing soothing lines around those beautiful scars, scars derived from the ugliest of places. He was my reminder, my hope, that beauty could grow from the ugliest places. He survived the unspeakable horrors of his childhood and became this wonderful male before me. A beacon of hope rooted so deeply into my soul, filling it with rays of love that flooded out the darkness within me. The darkness that-

A hideous laugh cracked through the memory, like lightning jolting my thoughts back to this waste of a reality. My husband sharing some crass tale that he’d recycled with the audiences of various court functions over the years.

I threw back the glass of wine in my hand just in time to catch the attention of an attendant strolling by, placing the empty glass on his tray and snagging two more glasses off of it. I’d need them both to get through his pompous storytelling.

I resented the male with every fiber of my being. I wanted to hate him but told myself he wasn’t that bad. He didn’t hit or threaten violence against me. I had every physical item I could ask for. I even had blissful breaks from his presence, free to roam where I chose in his absence - so long as I didn’t leave Vallahan and maintained a modest, ladylike presence.

He didn’t have the brain to challenge any of the bigoted views instilled in him growing up: belief in the separation of “lesser-fae” and “high fae”, a wife’s place was to sit obediently by his side and look pretty, females didn’t have a place in court politics. I would have never married him, given the choice. But what is choice in a place like Vallahan? I wished Mor were here to suffer through the evening with me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

My life changed the night I met Morrigan - an emissary from Prythian. We instantly hit it off. My husband dismissing her presence as she was merely a female, waving me off to “entertain” her. I led her to my library where we spoke for hours. I could not remember the last time I laughed like I did that night, had I ever?

From the start, I informed her that spending time with me was a futile effort. I had no sway in the court or even with my husband. I once had hope that he’d come around, see me as an equal who was worthy of his consideration. But that was a long time ago and I’d since given up - biding my time with wine, books, and spending his money.

I made a difference in the ways I could without getting cut off from the liberties of leaving the estate. I spent his money in less affluent areas of our city where I knew that it would make a difference. I tipped any server well and even tipped the shopkeepers and clerks, donated gifts my husband had given me that he’d since forgotten about, “accidentally” dropped gold marks as I walked past buskers and beggars in the street. Vallahan was incredibly wealthy. There was no excuse for the poverty that its royalty allowed to befall its “lesser” denizens.

Mor had simply waived off my efforts in sending her back out to network with the nobility and spent the duration of that event with me. We swapped tales of our lands, risqué jokes, of our families. Her family had been much worse than mine but elements were quite relatable. My family saw me as nothing more than a bargaining chip, marrying me off to the highest bidder, having nothing to do with me unless they needed an invitation to an event that could advance their social standing. I couldn’t relate, however, to her chosen family. I had nobody. She smiled, mentioning of a friend in her chosen family that I would love. She claimed we both held silent, observant statures in public settings, and let our true light shine when we were alone with friends. I didn’t have the heart to tell her that this was the first time in a century I’d truly let the light break through.

We began seeking eachother out at the functions she attended as emissary. Using my silent presence, I would garner information that could aid Mor in her peace treaty efforts. She never once asked such a thing of me. It was my choice to offer the information, a chance to make a difference. My idiot husband never once considering that her and I could be talking about anything other than classic literature and the latest fashions.

It was months later that I sat in our manor’s great room, quietly reading a book whilst sipping on a blend of spiced tea Mor had gifted me from Prythian. The sun shone through the windows, keeping the room illuminated enough while leaving shadowed corners perfect for going unnoticed and unbothered in.

Hushed voices interrupted my reading as my husband and a stern looking red-headed male entered the opposite end of the room, seating themselves in front of the fireplace - their chairs facing away from me. Without noticing my presence, they began speaking of communications between his court and the mortal queens. My ears perked at the mention of Koschei and something about an alliance. The males were interrupted by a house attendant informing them that their private lunch was prepared and awaiting them in the dining room.

The next time I spoke with Mor, her brows furrowed at the mention of the conversation, asking me to describe the male as best I could. I gave her the best description I could including his red hair, cold expression and baritone voice. Her jaw slackened, mouth forming an “Oh” before she muttered, “Fucking Beron.”

My eyes widened at the name. Beron Vanserra, the High Lord of Prythian’s Autumn Court.

From there, Mor asked if I remembered the friend she’d mentioned before, the observant one with quiet wit. As I nodded, she placed a gentle hand on my leg, quietly stating, “I need your help.”

We made a plan to meet up with her friend the following week as my husband traveled to Rask for meetings. I met Mor at the quarters she stayed at while on the continent. The room smelled of her and an intoxicating aroma of chilled mist and cedar. Mor hugged me before saying, “Y/N, meet Azriel. Spymaster of the Night Court.”

Any expectations I had of the “friend” Mor mentioned flew out the window. I never thought to question whether her friend was male or female, if they were high-fae, what they looked like… maybe I should have. I had to look like a fool as I gaped at the gorgeous male stepping out of the shadows and into the room’s light. Gold-flecked hazel eyes met mine as I marveled at the towering male before me. Raven-black hair, tan skin with tattoos peaking over the top of his black tunic, and the wings, oh they were incredible. The sun highlighting the subtle hues of red undertones throughout their massive form. An Illyrian. I’d read of the Illyrian warriors of Prythian in texts but I’d never seen one in person.

His jaw dropped for a moment as he looked to my feet where shadows were swirling. He apologized profusely as they ignored his command to return to him, stating that they had never done this before. I gave him a puzzled look before he continued, telling me that he was a Shadowsinger.

A Shadowsinger. I thought they were myths but here he was. This gorgeous, living, breathing male before me. As real as the palpitations I felt in my heart under his gaze.

Quickly I regained my composure as the three of us sat to discuss the information I’d gleaned from Beron and my husband. And from there, we worked together. The more information regarding a potential alliance we had, the more efficiently plans could be made to prevent it. Both Mor and Azriel respectfully ensured that I was comfortable with an increased spy presence as I worked with them. The risks of infiltrating were numerous but the risk of a potential alliance with Koschei outweighed any risk on our ends.

Azriel would sneak into court functions with Mor as she attended her standard emissary business - his shadows shrouding him from view, and I would meet with either Azriel or Mor anytime my husband was traveling on business to discuss the latest information from around the manor.

While my husband was completely oblivious, his family was dangerous. An elite family of nobility who dealt in bloodshed and blackmail. I was truly fortunate to not have been married off to one of his brothers - my husband being the least terrible of them all.

That night as I lay in bed, I found my heart racing. Not from fear but from…. Excitement. Azriel’s presence made me feel hopeful, giddy. He continued bringing up his concern for my safety during our meeting to which I insisted that I could handle myself. His persistence enough that by the end, I allowed him to send a shadow to accompany me for the time being.

I came to find the little shadow comforting. I knew from my studies that they were to be feared, yet I couldn’t help but enjoy its company. I began talking to it when nobody was around going as far as reading to the thing. Gods, had I really become so lonely that a shadow brought me joy?

The first time I met with Azriel alone, he gave me a mischevious grin. When asked what it was for, he just shook his head with a little blush rising to his cheeks. I shared my newest information while his eyes held a playful glint the entire time he listened. I finally elbowed him and insisted he tell me what he found so amusing.

Finally he spoke, “I enjoyed the smut you read to my shadow”

“WHAT!?” I asked, embarrassment rising to my face in an unflattering shade of red.

“My shadows… they tell me everything.” He quipped.

I looked at the shadow now cowering behind my ankles, “You traitorous little shit. I thought we were friends!”

Azriel laughed as the shadow wound up my body and nuzzled my face, a plea for forgiveness. I laughed knowing I should have expected it to relay the information to him.

I smirked, “I forgive you.”

The shadow danced joyfully in response.

Azriel leaned closer, “You seem to have made quite the friend out of that one.”

I nodded in agreement. Blushing at the closeness between our faces.

He smiled. “I’d like to be your friend too.”

Before I could give it a second thought, I closed the distance between us. I had just met this male, barely knew him, but something inside me tugged. Pulled me toward him. I couldn’t hold myself back. It was instinct. My lips needed to be on his, belonged there.

For a moment, he pulled back and looked at me. His eyes searching deep within mine, second guessing, searching for any doubt, seeking permission though I was the one to initiate the kiss.

It was wrong. I knew it was so wrong. I didn’t care. I never had a choice in my marriage but this, it was something I was choosing for myself. So long as Azriel wanted it too.

“Please” I whispered.

It was all he needed to hear before his lips were crashing into mine again.

That was the night the bond snapped into place and my soul became his entirely. Every fiber of my being belonged to him regardless of wherever my physical presence may be.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As days and weeks flew by, I snuck out to him anytime I could, and when I wasn’t with him - a shadow always kept me company.

Azriel purchased a small cottage in the forest with a stone foundation, just large enough for the two of us. Ivy wound up the sides of the dated building and it’s shutters hung loosely. Most would look upon the home and turn their nose up to the state of it. But to me - to me it was everything.

We made love day and night, any time the coast was clear I sought him out. We shared our deepest secrets, held each other as we shared the heartbreaking traumas of our past. Mor met with me less and less, certainly Azriel’s own doing. Though she always sent her regards. I missed her but couldn’t resist the relief I felt at the increased opportunities to meet with Azriel.

This home felt so inviting. I never wanted to leave the cozy embrace of it, or Azriel. The places I had lived in my life were grand by any standards but they were not home, only large shells of loneliness with the sole purpose of containing bodies and furniture for those bodies.

But this, this small cottage, it was home. Azriel was home. Love and warmth encompassed me as soon as I’d walk through the doors and into his strong arms. Our scents intermingled, bodies intertwined, his love rooting itself like Ivy deeper and deeper within the cracks of my stone encompassed soul, tethering us together until I didn’t know where I ended and he began.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Weeks turned to months and my resentment towards my husband only grew. I began sneaking off to my home even when my husband wasn’t traveling. The fact that he didn’t notice my frequent absence was both a relief and infuriating. He thought so little of me that he’d never once considered what I could be doing behind his back.

I hated the nights he sought me out. Azriel and I both knew it was inevitable and in order to prevent any suspicion I complied. The entire time I’d close my eyes and picture the corded muscles of Azriel’s arms pressing on either side of my head, warm breath heating my neck as he peppered kisses and nipped down it and across my collarbone, wings cocooning us until we were the only two people in the world.

The times my husband would reach for my hand were rare as it was and now his touch just felt invasive, wrong. I longed for the feeling of Azriel’s freezing hands holding mine as we walked in from the snowy wood, the way he’d place a hand on my cheek allowing me to rest my weary head as I cried over our circumstances. I wanted nothing more than to flee with him but if we were caught….. a gods damned blaze would ensue.

Bond or no bond, my husband’s father would never forgive such an injustice toward his son, deeming it an insult to his entire family. He had enough pull with Vallahan’s Leaders that peace treaty talks had the potential to fall apart under his guidance. I was just one female and not one that a war would be started over, however, it could be the final straw leading to an alliance between the mortal queens, Koschei, Vallahan, and Beron’s people. The alliance being what started a war.

This fire we started together, the fire he started when he came into my life, the one that I fueled with a single kiss, it could burn so much more than just us.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

I once again was brought from reflecting by my husband’s nails-on-a-chalkboard voice. Gods, I was tired. Tired in every sense. Azriel and I had argued the previous night. He had insisted that he would not sneak into tonight’s event, sensing an increased possibility of us being caught. I knew he was right but it was one of those nights where I selfishly wanted nothing more than to run away with him.

My husband’s family traveled to our estate for the weekend, his mother had passed long ago, so it was just his father and miserable brothers visiting. Their attendance escalating risks but also offering the potential of pertinent information being exchanged.

I longed to feel his presence but no sign of his scent filled the air, no sign of his shadows grazing the nape of my neck in greeting aside from my one constant companion. As the evening’s festivities died down I bid the remainder of the party goodnight. I joined my husband’s side to let him know that I was retiring to my chambers, pressing a hand to my forehead, citing a headache. He scoffed in return.

“You are drinking too much. It is a poor reflection on my status as head of this household if you cannot control your alcohol consumption.” I rolled my eyes, turning to retreat as he grabbed my arm firmly, yanking me back to him, “You are lucky we have an audience right now. You would be wise to show me respect.” He was always like this when his family was present. Another mark on the long list of qualities I despised about him.

I said nothing more and wound through the corridors toward my chambers when hushed tones caught my ear. The gravelly voices of my father and brothers-in-law carrying to me. I halted my steps, silently padding closer to the room they occupied.

His father spoke first, “We will approach the King when we return home, regarding the pressing nature of the alliance. Between that whore emissary nosing around and the overgrown bat, we can certainly allude to the benefits of an alliance with Koschei and the queens. Prythian nosing around in the affairs of our kingdom will only work to our advantage.”

The eldest brother chimed in, “Do you think Koschei will hold to his end of the bargain - that we will each receive a territory to overrule in Prythian once it’s been conquered?”

“Considering we have the key to freeing him from the lake he’s confined to, he’ll do anything for us, and when we capture the bat - it will only enhance the deal. Think of what could be achieved with the Shadowsinger under his control.” His father replied.

Shit

I needed to get to Azriel now. How did they even think they could capture him? The fools were so sure of themselves, fueled by pure male arrogance. Quietly I turned around taking a few silent steps away before quickening my pace. I left Azriel’s single shadow that still kept an eye on me to spy on the rest of the conversation.

Rounding a corner toward the cloakroom I crashed into a body. I looked up to find my husband staring at me. “Where are you going?” He murmured. Clearly drunk.

“I needed fresh air, my stomach is hurting.” I lied.

“That can wait. You’re coming with me.” He stated flatly. Lust clouding his eyes.

Shit!

I couldn’t turn him down without raising suspicion. Finding Azriel would have to wait until he was asleep.

I turned to stride down the hall alongside him. Silence filling the air, his scent gagging me.

We entered his chamber and he locked the door behind him before pushing me back toward the bed. Once the backs of my knees met the mattress he shoved me back onto it, not even bothering to remove my dress. He simply raised my skirts, fumbling with the laces of his own pants.

I felt sick. I hated contact with him, the resentment I felt burning like a living flame inside of me - forging itself into pure, solid hate.

“Look your husband in the eyes, wife. Is it not enough that I clothe you, feed you, give you a home only outdone by a castle?”

My brows furrowed as he continued, still fumbling with those laces.

And I was the one who couldn’t control my alcohol consumption

“You seek the company of a lesser fae? Allowing yourself be sullied by that beast?”

“What are you talking about?” I asked innocently. It was then that he backhanded me and spat “Don’t play dumb now, whore.” I cried out at the surprise of the lashing. “Since you’re going to act like a whore I’ll treat you like one.”

“It’s a shame that you couldn’t control yourself. You almost got away with it until you were spotted with that thing yesterday - spotted by my own brother.” Sneering, he continued, “Oh but they have plans for that brute and you are the key.”

With that he pulled out a knife, holding it just above my throat, his hand slightly shaking. Panic started to fill me as the realization sunk in that he was going to use me as a lure to capture Azriel. I swallowed that rising panic praying he hadn’t felt it through the bond.

I had to act now. Turning my head, nearly nicking the flesh of my neck on the blade, I gasped as if I saw something - someone - enter the room. The drunken idiot fell for the rouse. I grabbed his wrist, shoving the knife back and kneed him with all the force I could muster right in the balls.

He rolled off of me and I swiped the knife from his hand. Before he could call for help, I took the opportunity to press it to his neck. Azriel’s shadow returning to me just in time to bind his arms together.

”You thought you could assault me? You couldn’t even handle the laces of your pants, let alone a dagger.”

He looked at me, eyes wide, that lust in his eyes taken over by fear.

“I thought you to be better than your father and brothers but I see your true colors now.”

He opened his mouth to cry for help but I sliced the dagger across his neck before he could make a sound.

“Fool.” I muttered and walked away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The manor burned in flames behind me. My body clothed in spare garb kept in the staff supply room as to not attract any suspicious eyes in the streets. The staff had all returned to their own homes for the night with our essential staff returning to their on-ground quarters, separate from the manor. I stashed as many jewels and gold marks as I could into my clothing. I would find a way to distribute the wealth to displaced staff once I found a safe way to do so.

But now all I could think of was the path ahead. My husband was gone. His awful father and brothers too. Gone before they could ever share their suspicions of Az and Mor with the king. Gone before they could further influence the forming of an alliance. Their remaining ashes would be nothing but dust in the king’s ear by the time the fire burned out. Prying eyes would assume I had died in the blaze as well.

The realization hit me as I made my way through the streets: I was free. For the first time in my life, I had the choice to follow my own path and I knew exactly who that chosen path led to.

All that remained was to run away to him. I sent a gentle tug on our bond but a certain shadow had already went out ahead of me. And out of the dark cover of night, he emerged. His shadows shrouding us like the Ivy on our cottage. Home. He was my home.

~~~~~~~

EPILOGUE

The dining room filled with laughter. Mor sipped her glass of the expensive wine that she insisted she were entitled to after all of the chaos her family -our family- subjected her to. Azriel’s arm rested on the chair behind me as he sat in contented silence, those ever observant eyes taking in his family seated all together. It had been ten years today since we fled Vallahan. Nine years eleven months and thirty days since we’d accepted the bond, and the rest had been bliss. Of course there was always some challenge to arise but nothing that Azriel and I couldn’t take on as a team, as equals.

In the time that had passed, Beron’s son Eris took over his throne after the High Lord died from a mysterious illness with symptoms very similar to the effects of bloodbane.

After I left the room that fateful night in Vallahan, my favorite little shadow picked up very important information regarding the key to freeing Koschei that had been alluded to. It was now safely hidden away under extensive wards in the Night Court, far away from Koschei or the Mortal Queens.

For now, we were safe. We were free. We could conquer anything with this Court of Dreams.

“Where’d you go?” Az whispered, his beautiful voice bringing chills of the best kind to me as his lips brushed across my forehead. I gave him a smile sending waves of contentment and joy through the bond.

“Hey!” Mor said. “Where’s your wine? Az! How could you forget to pour a glass for your lady.” She threw a playful wink in my direction. “I swear, I’m going to steal her from you if you keep this up.”

I said nothing as I looked to Mor, resting a hand gently across the light swelling of my abdomen.

Azriel’s eyes sparkled and he quipped, “I’m taking a break from wine duty, Mor.”

“Chocolate duty would be great though.” I said, looking back to Az. He gave a nod and I dropped the shield that masked my scent from our family.

Cheers of happiness and laughter erupted around the room. Mor let out a high-pitched squeal like I’d never heard as she embraced me. I smiled, absorbing all of the love that filled the room.

This love. This life. It was home. Not a magnificent curse but the ivy roots of my dreamland covering me in love, in him.

[baby-tini]

soooooooooo, fem! shuji hanma! x fem! reader?? 👉🏻👈🏻 (thank u for answer btw!! i will request later some emma headcanons heheh)

-She's so tall, standing at about 5'11, she's much taller then most of the men she fights and she finds it too be so funny. She's got a really nice figure as well, tiny waist with long legs and the prettiest hands that have knuckles that are always covered in blood and bruises

-She's so fucking mean, too literally everyone, and she's so cocky about everything. Especially about, men specifically, underestimating her because she's a girl. So when a man gets handsy with her, she beats his ass. As the man lays bloody and bruised on the floor, his face twisted in disbelief as she laughs in his face.

-She gets her nails done, but never long because she can't fight as well and she always complains about how she really doesn't understand how people wipe their ass with nails that long. She does like when you drag those claws down her back though, the pain makes her head all foggy.

-She's so mean when she sits on your face, because she doesn't just sit, she fucks. She will fuck your face, with no break, she only lets up when she's cum. She'll grab the back of your head and push you closer as she rides your tongue, saying the meanest things to you as she feels your tongue slip inside of her.

-Her hair is pretty too, she has that kind of e-girl style, her hair brown with blonde strands in the front, she lets them hang out when she ties her hair back, she does add more blond streaks later on because she likes it so much. While she likes too keep her hair short, she grew it out because she liked when you pulled on it. She always has you bleach her roots for her because she doesn't know what's she doing and her hair has fallen out when she fell asleep with the bleach in before.

-She's the meanest on her period, her cramps get so bad too the point where she can't walk so she likes too have you take care of her. Her period is pretty short but it's always so bad. She also thinks it's kinda cute when your period sinks up with hers. She derives a sick kind of pleasure when you suffer with her.

-She doesn't wear skirts, dresses on nice occasions, but she hates skirts. They're so uncomfortable for her, she much rather prefer too wear sweats and leggings. They're easy for her too move around in and she fights better, have you ever tried too smash someones teeth down their throat in a skirt? Well, she has and she couldn't move around at all, she also hates heels, again for special occasions but even then she quickly grows tired of them and always has slides in the car.

-She loves using straps on you, she knows she fucks you good already, but when your face twists into pure ecstasy, it makes her fuck you harder, and it's so much fun for her. With the different lengths girths, she doesn't just fuck you with it though, she makes you suck it off. Watching your lips wrap around the silicone head as she fucks your throat with it, the harness around her waist as you sit between her legs, her hand bobbing your head as she throws her back, it's as if she can really feel it.

-It's so easy for her too go into the dressing room with you, and people are none-the-wiser as she has her finger deep in your soft cunt, your hands against the mirror as your face is squished against the glass, her other hand covering your mouth too prevent you from being too loud.

[doromoni]

Hunting Affections

Charles Leclerc x photographer! reader

Max Verstappen x photographer! reader

Part 5.

fanfic + smau fic

y/n faceclaim : Hwang Eunbi

warning : swearing , manipulation, stalking , violence

A/N : UP FOR EDITING 🤍

<previous next>

Summary; Love is but a concept — just connections of neurons that take part in the brain … and yet, why is it the most painful when one falls alone?

or

Loving someone who doesn’t love you back , until you can’t no more. Maybe then they’ll actually know what they’ve lost.

Relentless and persistent are two different adjectives that are often mistakenly interchanged . Persistence is defined as continuing firmly in a course of action despite difficulty , while being relentless means to do something and refuse to give up, even if what they are doing is unpleasant or cruel.

You are nothing but the latter, your actions are derived from cruel and revolting motivations— you have deluded yourself into thinking that your actions are for the goodness of others.

Everything was quiet , the only noise was the crashing waves of the Monegasque sea. The quietness and the soft waves have brought me peace and calmness , yet at this point in time it only added to the anxiousness that bubbled at the depths of my stomach … because there laid in the distance, the screen of my phone violently glowing luminescent , as your instagram post displayed on my feed . The memories that used to hunt my sleep every night came crashing in yet again, the times where I then cried endlessly thinking what was wrong with me, if I lacked something, or If I was never enough.

Do you find happiness in my suffering? why must you always find ways to make my life miserable.

The palms of my hands grew restless, hearing the pounding of my heart in my eardrums. Shit… I’m starting to spiral again, everything was turning foggy ,my vision starting to blur as my breath was starting to catch up on me making me choke on the tears that streamed down my face. The bedroom had started to feel like its enclosing in it self.

Just then, the piercing sound of a phone ringtone filled the air.

“Liebling , I just saw what the bastard posted . Are you alright, Love? Do you need company? Should I go back there?” Oh Max , how can I be so lucky with you? You didn’t even doubt my innocence.

“M-Max..” I said struggling to speak.

“Y/N?? What happened? Are you alright??“ His voice sounded so worried and panicked, is it wrong that I find it soothing?

“It almost happened again, love … I started to spiral” I managed to choke out , running my hand through my hair ; feeling it still damp from the shower I took before.

“Verdammt noch mal! I’m gonna kill that bastard! Wait for me , Liebling. Im coming over. Give me 10 minutes”

“Mhm , thank you Max . Please know that I really do love you…” Fear started to envelop my heart at the thought of Max leaving me because of all this mess.

“I never doubted your love, Liebling… not one bit. I love you more. I’ll be there quickly. Call me if your you need anything else. Bye for now dear”

And the line went dead and the air was again filled with silence. Thoughts have again started to fill my head , but this time it was of rage and my body shook , seething in anger.

Then cutting through the silence, came the sound of my doorbell. It couldn’t be Max , I already gave him a key to the apartment. Slowly walking towards the front door and looking through the camera … there stood at the other side of my door, the root of my problem. Charles Leclerc.

“Please open the door,Y/N” that voice used to bring me joy and giddy anticipation , now it only brought un believable amounts of contempt and disgust.

His knocks where endless, just as I had said , he is relentless. Finally having enough from him, I swung the door open ; revealing the angelic face that brought me hell.

“The fucking nerve you have to show your face to me, Leclerc . “ I spat with venom laced in every word , as my blood started to boil over at the sight of him.

He started to walk forward and reaching out his hand , intending to hold mine. Yet before he could even lay a finger — a stood back , with a piercing glare permanently set on my face.

“Don’t you fucking touch me!” Charles could only recoil , how does it feel to finally be at that end of the stick , huh?

“Y/N please , let’s talk . Babe I- Look, i’m sorry for being a shitty boyfri-“ As his words started to spill out , I could only scoff at the absurdity of him.

“I’m not your babe , and before you even start, I never was your girlfriend . You’re focusing on your career, remember?! We we’re never together. You just fucking played me the left me whenever you liked. Oh you were shitty alright, but you were never my boyfriend! ”

“You don’t mean that . Remember all the things we’ve done together, the trips and all the family dinners. Y/N … babe , I miss having you and getting to hold you in my arms at our special spot. Y/N , please , I love you and I know you still love me “

“YOU DON’T GET TO SAY THAT AFTER EVERYTHING YOU’VE PUT ME THROUGH ! IM ALREADY FUCKING HAPPY! “ I shouted as my throat burned and my eyes started to tear up from anger and frustration.

“You’re so fucking cruel. Yes! I did love you then! But what did you do with it huh?! You fucking cheated on me and took me for granted.You embarrassed me in-front of everyone! You made me fucking doubt everything about myself , you fucking bastard! I’m already content without you in my life. Charles, please just leave me alone. Let me go, I’m very happy with Max… I love him. Please , I beg of you , don’t ruin this for me” Tears are now streaming down my cheeks .

As I said those words, the warmth and affection in his eyes drained as it was replaced with vexation and contempt. His face turned blank , and all to quickly his lips were pulled into a smirk.

“We both know that you’re just using him to get to me. Really , y/n? Max? my childhood enemy? Couldn’t you think of a better way to make me jealous? A bit pathetic, but I’ll let it go. I’m already here, break up with the loser already.” The smugness and arrogance of his words drew out the worst in me as my hand flew directly at his cheek , slapping him with all the aggression and hatred I had for the driver.

“FUCK YOU , CHARLES! HOW ARROGANT CAN YOU GET?! SELFISH PRAT! IM FUCKING OVER YOU! YOU HAVE NO FUCKING RIGHT TO SAY WHAT MAX AND I HAVE — YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW WHAT LOVE IS YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE! I-i, just leave . I have nothing more to say to you.GO! LEAVE!!” My throat now burned even further as i wiped the tears off my face with my hand.

“I’ll go for now Y/N . But , I will not stop. you are mine Y/n l/n. YOU.ARE.MINE.” His words were ringing in my ears as he drove off the distance. Fresh tears now spilling over as my body was wrecked into uncontrollable sobs. My knees buckling beneath me making me fall to the floor — not bothering to stand up as I stared emptily at the floor.

Not long after , I felt the familiar warmth that I could only get from the embrace of the person I loved.

“Liebling?! Why are you on the floor? my Schatz , what happened?” Max’s voice brought peace and stability to my anxiety. I drew myself even closer to his embrace.

“Liebling?”

“Charles… he came here, Max . He said that he won’t stop until I go back to him. Max… I’m scared”

I looked up to see fury written over his face, feeling his hold on me tighten.

“Max , please don’t leave me. Please…” I begged, clutching his torso even more . Feeling his fingers running through my hair , He said“Don’t be scared, my Schatz . I love you and I promise not to leave you. Don’t be scared, I’m here” the softness in his voice and the, revealed the exhaustion in my body as I had started to lose consciousness… but not until I heard him say

“You’ll pay for everything, Leclerc… everything” and all turned into nothing.

Formula 1 Ferrari Driver Charles Leclerc seen leaving the apartment of Red Bull Senior Director Y/N L/N.

Article by : Mary Hankson

Formula 1 driver , Charles Leclerc was spotted leaving the Korean born photographer Y/N L/N’s apartment at 4 am in the morning, just a few hours after his cryptic instagram post with the caption “originally mine , I refuse to give up”.

Sources had said that the visit of the Ferrari driver had occurred right after the birthday celebration of the Red Bull Design Director, in which the Monegasque was said not to be invited, this, and possibly for more reasons , was not taken well by the driver— as Charles was seen storming out of the apartment with a fuming snarl on his face as he drove off in his Ferrari Pista.

Even before such event, fans are already puzzled with Charles and Y/N’ behavior. Their once warm treatment of each other have quickly turned sour once Y/N left the Italian team to pursue a career with Sky Sports . The air between the driver and photographer had been in tension since then— with L/N opting to associate with The English , Australian, and Dutch formula 1 drivers while Leclerc had been with the Alpine driver and best friend Pierre Gasly. What had exactly happened to create such thick tension among the two?

Could the mysterious woman in the Monegasque’s post be about L/N? The two have already been romantically linked together in past — as Y/N L/Y had been spotted with the driver and his family in several occasions looking quite familiar with each other. Yet nothing was confirmed by either Leclerc or L/N.

Y/N L/N is currently in a romantic relationship with the reigning WDC champion, Max Verstappen. The length of the relationship is relatively new , yet it cannot be argued that both are not embarrassed to share their passion for each other — whether cameras are present or not.

Nevertheless, Leclerc and L/N are longer acquainted and have spent great amounts of time together during the period of internship of the korean photographer in Ferrari . The hearsay between the Charles Leclerc and Y/N L/N also cannot be dismissed entirely — for fans have speculated that the two haven’t establish a relationship before due to Ferrari’s no colleague fraternization clause. The argument with Leclerc and L/N’s relationship rumors are once again put into light with the recent developments — but with Max Verstappen in the scene, things get even more complicated.

Tension continues to rise among the parties involved. Will such tension be left off the track or will we see the Verstappen and Leclerc rivalry stronger than ever? And will the new relationship of Y/N L/N and Max Verstappen survive such issues so early on the relationship?

————

F1wags

Liked by y/n_stills., user1, user2 , and 156,425 others

F1wags Even amidst rumors between Y/N L/N and Charles Leclerc , Max and Y/N are looking to be stronger and even happier together!

The new couple was seen to be going out for breakfast , hours after the article of Charles Leclerc leaving the home of Y/N at 4 am at the morning. At the looks of it, Max is more protective and even more doting on the Red Bull director/photographer, as was reported by fans that the dutch driver’s arms are never away from Y/N. By the looks of things, Max and Y/N is staying longer.

But what is the meaning of the instagram post of Charles? We could only hope for an explanation from the Ferrari Driver. Because Red Bull wag y/n is here to stay!

user1 y/n is collecting drivers like infinity stones … cannot blame her tho, if I looked that pretty I would too.

user2 It hasn’t been a week since y/n has been an official wag but she’s already the star.

user3 Lmao, chaos follows her tbh

user4 @user3 she is chaos , chaos is her.

user5 All hail Y/N , queen of the Wags

user6 When we eat the rich , y/n is exempted.

user5 HAHAHAHAHA

user7 what is Charles doing? explain yourself sir?? drop a statement or something… I refuse to let go of Soft Max.

user8 @user7 why should charles do it? Why couldn’t y/n explain herself?

user7 are you fr @user8 was it y/n who posted , was it y/n who went to his apartment? No, I think the f not.

user9 ikr? Like wth is he doing? Y/N is already happily taken by Max … bruhhh

user9 I don’t doubt y/n’s loyalty to Max at all. They make each other so happy. Why the hell would she drop that for a driver as red flagged as his team color. And did y’all listen to the song she made for him? shiz got me crying blood.

liked by y/n_stills.

user9 oh hi mother @y/n_stills.

user10 oof y/n is here dropping the shade along with the tea.

user11 Hi there mother of all mothers @y/n_stills.

y/n_stills. Hi children~

user9 OMG HI HAHAHHA

user12 Max really does love y/n , they’re out for breakfast when Max is usually very early at the ring even when its media Thursday .

user13 Man is whipped.

user14 pls y/n never let this man go.

redbullracing

Liked by y/n_stills, maxvertappen1, landonorris, and 1,672,916 others

redbullracing Welcome to the family @y/n_stills! 🎉

interview will be posted after the race 🤭

y/n_stills. Thank you so much 🤍 So excited to work with the team ! But remember our negotiations @redbullracing, unlimited snack… else im walking out 😬.

maxverstappen1 ahh already the boss, I see.

y/n_stills. Oh shush , you love it when I’m bossy. 🙄

maxverstappen1 that I do😘

danielricciardo ugh you two are gross , get a room

landonorris HR will be hearing a lot of you 2

redbullracing @landonorris ,you said it .

maxverstappen1 Stoked to work with you , colleague!

y/n_stills. Ew, Emilian stop! Cringing over here 😫

maxverstappen1 noted, you’re the boss 🫡

oscarpiastri Congratulations y/n!! give them hell, mom🧡

y/n_stills. Thank you little papaya 🤍, Still, I’m always rooting for you!

arthur_leclerc @oscarpiastri stop hogging y/n!

olliebearman @y/n_stills. Give us attention too :((

y/n_stills. I’ll think about it @olliebearman 😜

carlossainz55 Good luck niña, I will always be supporting you and your journey! Always.

y/n_stills. thank you chili 🥺

carlossainz55 I’m always your friend first and a driver second, niña . remember that.

liked by y/n_stills.

scuderiaferrari good luck on your journey @y/n_stills.!

y/n_stills. Thanks! You’re still my favorite team to beef with @scuderiaferrari ❤️

user1 bruh the grid is causing chaos in the redbullracing comment section HAHAHAHHA

user2 ikr? HAHAHAHAH

user3 my popcorn is ready!

*ting!*

“Max are you really ok if I hung out with Arthur?”

We were currently in his car on our way to the circuit for media day.

“Yeah , I’m ok with it. He’s a good kid” I stared at him in both awe and disbelief

“Liebling, what’s the stare for?” He chuckled as he focused on driving, a hand on my thigh ; his fingers drumming to the beat of cruel summer that played on the radio.

“He is, but he’s also the brother of my ex!” I said exasperated.

“I trust you completely, Liebling” He replied gently squeezing my thigh. Affection uncontrollably rushed over me.

“I love you, Max Emilian Verstappen.Do you know that?”

“Yes , I do Schatz , and I love you more” A smile both on our faces as the circuit came closer.

“Oh! How bout you go with me?” I excitedly tapped his hand at the amazing idea I had… which didn’t look as amazing to the dutch, as his face held confusion

“What? Why?”

“Come on I want you there! I’ll invite oscar and ollie~ its time you to spend time with your sons”

“Woah woah, last I remember we only have Oscar.” He joked , and there and then the car was filled with our laughter — forgetting all the drama that surrounded us.

y/n_stills.

Liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, danielricciardo, and 2,836,817 others

y/n_stills. A Red Bull Wag , through and through. Ironically, I’m already tired ,nobody warned me this shiz is hard 🙄. I blame @maxverstappen1 .

maxverstappen1 I’m sorry i forgot to brief you, my bad liebling.

y/n_stills. Be thankful that I love you.

landonorris aren’t you supposed to be working @y/n_stills?

y/n_stills. It’s called tactical marketing, kinder. Know your terminology gosh.

landonorris is that what you call it? hmm sure

georgerussell63 isn’t today your first official day as a wag?

y/n_stills. and what is your point russell george?

georgerussell63 nothing, nothing ~ 😁

lilymhe Girl! See you later , I missed you >:((

y/n_stills. Babe , we literally saw each other yesterday.

lilymhe Yeah? And?

y/n_stills. quoting russell george , nothing, nothing ~ 😁

user1 BRO Y/N IS SO PRETTY! I saw her and Max walking to the Red Bull motorhome , she was glowing! I swear I saw an angel

user2 RIGHT?! She’s literally blooming , how can someone be so pretty >:((

user3 she’s also so nice! They were walking when I asked for a picture with Max , y/n offered to take the picture. I swear I melted when she smiled at me.

user4 y/n suites the blue and red 😏

user5 indeed, she found her colors >:)) , the plain red was getting boring.

———

“Liebling, I need to go. Im scheduled for the press conference” I looked up from my laptop setting my eyes to the dutch driver as he walked towards were I was.

“Mhm , I know~ who do you think put you there?” I smiled mischievously up at him as he towered over my side.

“You vixen~ you do realize who’s also up there right?” A grin played at his lips , where I only shrugged

“Gotta keep you on your toes, champion”

“If i punch the bastard’s face will that be alright?” Max replied as he tucked my hair to my ears, a hand gently holding my chin

“I mean, bad publicity is still publicity, you are the expert at it , my love” I joked lovingly , a grin now present on my face.

“Aren’t you cheeky, Schatz~” his grip on my chin slightly tightened as he bent down and captured my lips in his. Angling my face to deepen the kiss , as Max’s other hand found it way to the back of my neck, holding me still. Before the kiss grew too heated, I pulled away knowing that he cannot be late because of me.

“Nu uh, mister~ you have a media event to get to. “ Max groaned , as I tried to fix his hair that I had somehow ruined.

“Off you go, my love~ good luck and play nice. I love you~” I said as I pulled him out of my office and pushed him out the door

“Yeah, yeah~ love you more” He said walking away, not before stealing another kiss.

“See you later Schatz~” He yelled at the distance. the people outside my office only chuckled and shake their heads— seeing their number 1 driver act petulantly.

———

“Welcome back lads! Its been quite a long month of summer vacation, i might say! And welcome everyone, today we have here with us a mixture of driver experiences in the grid. We have Lewis Hamilton , Max Verstappen, Oscar Piastri , Charles Leclerc and Daniel Ricciardo here with us today~ our two Aussies are here!”

“ And speaking of Aussies, let’s start of with our youngest driver on the grid! Oscar, how was your experience in the half of your first season in formula 1 and how are you handling the effects of your collision with Sainz during the Spa race?”

“The First half of the season is not easy, I cannot lie, specially at the start of the season, but recently the car has been a great drive and We are really looking forward for this week’s race. Uhm… uh, mentally speaking , I am alright, a bit down but I’m eager to get back into the car and race.

“Are there people you look towards for comfort or advice when facing circumstances like this? — you were captured hugging a woman after your retirement last race and if we have it correct it was Red Bull’s current Designs Director , Y/N L/N, is that true?”

The young driver was suddenly flustered taken aback by the question. Max drew an assuring pat on the back to the Australian driver, making sure that it wasn’t shown on camera.

“Yes, that was Y/N. She went to our garage and made sure that I was ok and assured me that mistakes happen and that I should’t hold it against myself”

“Well aren’t you two close” Leclerc suddenly butted in , all eyes suddenly went to him— some with disguised annoyance.

But without missing a beat Oscar replied

“We are! Y/N is very caring and very supportive towards me. She is also very mother like — we have this running joke with Max here, that they are my parents and I’m their son”

“Correction, adopted son” Max joked lifting the mood.

“While on that note, Max! I assume that the rumors are true? That you are indeed dating your team’s Design Director, Y/N L/N ? “

“Yes, I am in a relationship with Y/N”

“Would you care to elaborate on that, Max?”

“ Isn’t that question a bit too personal? Shouldn’t we talk about racing?” Charles again interrupted before anybody could say a word

“No, it’s alright. I’ll gladly talk about Y/N given the chance. Well we were friends first, then along the road I came to like her and thank the heavens she liked me back. Then we made things official this summer break, oh! we also adopted oscar here during the break. So lots of milestones for me this summer break.” Chuckles filled the conference room as Max finished speaking

“Thank you for that Max , uh let’s move on to Charles! You are also busy with your summer break! Would you like to enlighten us on that?”

“No, not really … Im here to race, that’s all. I don’t have time to waste on meaningless pursuits” He replied dryly

Max’s hands balled into firsts , on Charle’s insinuation when he said meaningless pursuits.

“Oh, well alright! Moving on to Lewis”

The tension was thick in the air as 2 drivers continued to giving each other subtle glares all throughout the conference .

The conference rest of the conference went off without an issue. That was until the end where everyone was backstage when the tension broke loose and anger exploded

“WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM LECLERC?!” Max came storming towards the Ferrari driver —driving a hard punches on the jaw of the Ferrari driver, then forcefully clutching the collar of his shirt as blood spilled out of the Monegasque’s lips

“GET YOUR HANDS OFF ME DICKHEAD!” Charles shouted as he struggled to get max’s grip off him.

Daniel and Oscar quickly came to separate the two drivers apart. Holding each of them back.

“LEAVE Y/N ALONE ,BASTARD! CANT YOU FUCKING SEE THAT YOU’RE HURTING HER?!? YOURE THE FUCKING PROBLEM”

“ IF YOU WERE’NT IN THE PICTURE Y/N WILL STILL BE MINE! YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A PERSON WHO PICKS UP OTHER PEOPLE’S SCRAPS!! SHE LOVES ME!”

“FUCKING PIECE OF SHIT ! YOU DARE CALL Y/N SCRAPS?! YOU FUCKING TREAT HER LIKE SHIT THEN YOU EXPECT HER TO COME BACK TO YOU?!“

“guys , please stop it! there are cameras outside that door” Daniel tried to calm both the drivers down, as Max tried to get away from his grip and land another strike at Leclerc.

“Get this through your head, Leclerc. I will do my everything to keep y/n and the championship title away from you. As long as I am here you will never taste the victory of being number 1 again. I swear that on my life. You’ve hurt y/n, prepare to fucking suffer”

successfully removing Daniel’s grip, Max then stormed out the room, leaving the three drivers in shock.

[phillippadgettwrites]

Sense, Chapter 4: Touch

Rated X / 887 words / posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

He hadn’t realized how starved he was. How desperate. How achingly in need of connection. He knew he was lonely, and definitely horny, but he didn’t know he needed this. He didn’t even really know it existed, at least not in this way. Not this pure. Not this real. 

She likes to undress him. To push his shirt up, running her hands over his torso as she peels it off. To slowly unbutton his fly and draw the zipper down, grazing her knuckles over his lower belly. She grabs his ass over his boxers, and then under them, wraps her hand around his balls and tugs gently. She sucks his dick like it’s her last meal, like she’s never tasted anything so delicious, and he finds himself begging for mercy so he can last long enough to fuck her. 

As incredible as the sex is, it surprises him how close to her it makes him feel when she touches him just for the sake of doing it, with no end goal in mind. When they’re kissing in bed and she grabs the back of his thigh to tug him closer. When they’re watching TV and she slips her hand into his. When she makes it clear she’s after more than his mouth and his cock. She pets him like he’s a damn cat. Rakes her fingers through his hair, absently strokes his forearm, drags her nails across his back. He fucking loves it. He loves the way she grabs his bicep for leverage when she pops up on her tiptoes to kiss him goodbye, loves her arms snaking around his waist and the press of her hugging him from behind, loves that she smiles and reaches for him when he says something that pleases her. It makes him feel so wanted. So safe. So unbelievably good. 

“I’m exhausted,” he tells her when she snuggles up next to him in bed, naked and shower-warm. 

“I know,” she says, kissing his cheek. “You had a long day.”

She nuzzles her nose into the crook of his neck, draping her leg over his thigh. He can feel the heat of her cunt and his cock jumps a little, but he’s too worn out to consider indulging. She runs her palm down the length of his arm, strokes his chest, pets the trail of hair on his belly. It relaxes him, soothing his frayed nerves, and he sighs deeply. 

“May I?” she asks, running the tips of her fingers under the waist of his boxers. 

“I’m beat, Scully,” he says regretfully. 

She lifts her head and brushes her lips over the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. 

“Let me take care of you,” she whispers, and immediately his lap feels heavy. 

It feels impossible, the way she loves him. The way she gives without expectation of reciprocity, the way she cares about his well being as much as her own. She kisses his neck and nibbles on his ear as she slips her hand under his boxers and gently strokes him to life, not in any hurry to get it over with. She hums when a rush of blood makes his cock lurch in her hand, moans as she smears precum over the head with her thumb. Despite the immense amount of pleasure he derives from getting her off, it’s hard for him to accept that this isn’t a chore for her. That she wants it for him as much as he wants it for himself. 

Previous to her, a handjob is not something he’d be particularly excited about. They were always too slow or too fast, too loose or too tight, and in the end he’d rather just do it himself. But Scully touches him in ways he never knew he wanted to be touched. She plays with pressure and speed, alternating stroking him from root to tip and massaging the head until he whimpers with overwhelm. She squeezes his balls, teases the skin behind them with one curious finger, makes his hips jump up off the bed impatiently until she returns her attention to his needy cock. All the while she’s curled around him, her lips at his neck or his ear, her silky warm skin draped over one side of his body. 

“Are you gonna come for me?”

It hits him suddenly and forcefully. His balls tighten and his dick stiffens in her hand, and she throws back the blankets. He barely has time to register what she’s doing before he’s coming down her throat, fisting the sheets and moaning loudly. She swallows him down, licking up a stray drop before it lands in his pubic hair, then carefully tucks him back into his boxers. 

“Thank you,” he says, lust drunk and already on the verge of sleep, and she laughs as she snuggles back up to him and pulls the blankets over them both. He can smell his own cum on her breath, which is oddly intimate. She doesn’t even get up to rinse her mouth out or brush her teeth. 

“Goodnight,” she says, and kisses him on the cheek.

He thinks he says it back, but he isn’t sure. He’s somewhere between cloud 9 and the realm of dreams, tethered to reality by only the heat of her body wrapped around his.

[ranahan]

There’s this one line I made up for my fic (something that Din’s buir often says to him) that I would really, really love to get translated into Mando’a if you’re up for it

“Two Mandalorians halve the enemy” (or “two Mandalorians, half the enemy”—I can’t decide on which version I prefer because both work and I’ve used both)

Ooh, this is a fun one!

So there are many ways to construct an “X this, X that” kind of a sentence/proverb, but the point is usually symmetry and directly contrasting the two halves of the sentence.

You could say “t’ad mando’ade, dul aru’e” or “two mandos, half the enemies.” (I’m using aru’e and not aruese, because that’s what Traviss also has used.)

Or “ke’tanari mando’ade, ke’duli aru’e,” “double the mandos, halve the enemies.” Tanarir is my own derivation for “to double,” from ta- (one of the prefixes for two) and narir (to act, which is a really common in compound words), literally something like “to do twice”. I angsted over finding a good word/root for “x times,” didn’t figure out one I liked, and decided to go with the simple action root. Dulir is simply dul + verbal suffix.

Or even “tanarir mando’ade, dulir aru’e,” “to double the mandos is to halve the enemies” or “doubling the mandos (is) halving the enemies.”

I don’t think you have to pick any one correct version. Use the first one (with only nouns) when commenting on a job or the relative numbers of forces. Use the one with infinitives (the last one) as a proverb like “many hands make light work,” and one with ke as an exhortation to pitch in and make the work light, like “c’mon lads, let’s double the hands and make light the work.”

And if you don’t mind, I’m using this both as it’s own entry as a proverb, and an illustration for dul/dulir (with attribution ofc). Thanks for the ask!

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

trypanonbore

A/N: this is an old fic, originally posted back in June 2022.

warnings: Spencer Reid x reader, hospital au, established relationship, making out in an elevator, sexual references, major greys anatomy vibes, medical history (this is basically just me infodumping about a random subject I know freakishly much about)

word count: 1137

∼ gentle reminder that feedback, but especially reblogs are the way you support writers on here ∽

masterlist | join my taglist

You felt like there was lightning coursing through your veins. Your face was starting to hurt from how intense your smile was. Hell, you were practically skipping down the hallway! You felt like you could do anything right now.

Stopping in front of the elevator, you leaned forward and pressed the button with the small arrow on it. Swinging your arms wildly, as a child would, you glanced up at the red numbers that were slowly coming closer to the one that matched the floor you were currently on. Once it glowed 5, you heard a low ding and the metallic doors slid open to revile a man that did not help eliminate your smile.

“Good afternoon, Dr Reid,” you said, sounding as professional as you could. Gliding into the elevator, you turned around and waited for the doors to close.

“Dr Y/l/n, hello,” he smiled, not taking his eyes off you for one second. 

As soon as the doors shut, you felt his hands on you, swiftly turning you to meet his gaze. That little ball of excitement still darted throughout your body, and since the two of you now were completely alone you grabbed a hold of his lab coat, raised yourself up onto your tiptoes and planted one on him. 

Not protesting, he simply reached out to press the button that stopped the elevator. The short ringing sound didn’t alarm you, as this wasn’t exactly the first time the two of you had found yourselves in this very situation and it probably wouldn’t be the last. 

“Hi,” he pulled away, “you seem happy today.”

“Well, there was this guy who came into the ER with a subdural hematoma and Dr Collins let me do burr holes all by myself,” you beamed, snaking your arms around his neck.

Pulling back, he exclaimed, smile only growing wider, “seriously?”

“Yeah,” you couldn’t help but giggle.

Rushing down to kiss you again he mumbled in between the kisses, “of course he did,” moving from your lips onto your flushed cheek, “because youare an incredible doctor.”

Giggling, you rolled your head to the side, letting his mouth travel down towards your neck.

“You know,” he began, walking you back slowly until your rear hit the wall of the elevator, “the term trepanation derives from the ancient Greek word trypanonbore,” he pressed his hips forward to meet yours. 

“Yeah, I bet you’re just dying to bore something into me right now,” you weaved your fingers through the roots of his hair, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. 

Chuckling at your comment, he couldn’t help but continue his infodumping in between his lips dance across your skin, “back in 1865, Ephraim George Squier was in Peru and stayed with this lady called Señora Zentino, who had one of the best collections of art and those kinds of things, but she also had this skull with an unusual hole in it that Squier somehow convinced her to give to him. Now, it’s not like this was the first time a skull like this was discovered, but it was the first time that people didn’t just brush over it and actually tried to find the cause.”

Shutting your eyes, you let yourself enjoy the warm rush his voice shot throughout your body. Let's be honest, the kisses also helped amplify the feeling.

“So, he then travelled up to present it to the New York Academy of Medicine, but they were just a group of men who were convinced that it couldn’t possibly have been done intentionally, or at least not when the person still was alive. They didn’t think that those primitive people were capable of such advanced medical procedures. Now Squier didn’t buy a word of what they said, so he went all the way over to Paris to show it to Paul Broca, and he could quickly tell that the hole was not only done intentionally but also when the patient was still alive.”

“Well, of course, he could see that,” you couldn’t help but interject, “it’s Paul fucking Broca!”

“And after that,” he slipped his fingertips under your shirt and ventured up to meet your lips once more, “it didn’t take long for trepanation to be accepted in the medical community.”

Crashing his lips onto yours, you couldn’t help but let out a tiny moan. 

Coming up for air you smirked, running your hands down his body, “speaking of Paul Broca, you make my Broca’s area go all dumb, all of the time… especially when you do that thing with your tongue…”

“Baby, if you don’t already know how much I love that fact about you, I will just have to keep showing you,” he glided his palms down to meet your ass, pulling you even closer to him. Giving you a quick kiss, he then pulled back just enough for him to breathe out, “what are you doing tonight?”

Sticking your tongue out and teasingly giving his lips a quick lick, you answered, “you, hopefully.”

Capturing your lips hungrily one last time, you drew it out as long as you could, but also kept in mind that this was not really the best time or place to bite off more than you could chew. 

Nuzzling his nose against yours, he hummed, “fuck, I wish I could just pull you into an on-call room right now and bury my head between your thighs, but I have a surgery in a bit,” pressing his hips against yours one last time, just in case you hadn’t noticed before how much he wanted you. 

“Go, save a life, I’ll still be here when you get back.”

With a sharp inhale of breath, he took a step back, admiring the slightly dishevelled state you were in, still flush against the wall. 

Tugging your shirt back into your trousers, you slowly regained your breath. Keeping your eyes locked with his, you tightened your ponytail, making sure your hair was all gathered and neat. 

“You ready?” he asked, reaching out to press the stop button again in order to make the elevator move once more.

“I am if you are.”

And with that, he pushed the button and you parted ways with the wall. Standing beside one another, you felt his pinky finger brush against yours, but before you could grab a hold of his hand, the doors slid open and his warm presence slipped away. 

“Good luck on your surgery Dr Reid,” you called out after him.

Just before the doors could close again, he turned around and smiled, “thank you, Dr Y/l/n, and just to circle back to that thing you told me about? I’m proud of you.”

A smile once again spread across your face as he reminded you of the incredible achievement you made today.

© 2022 thyme-in-a-bubble 

[archivalofsins]

So, let's talk. This is going to be a serious discussion about hyper-sexualization and hypo-sexualization.

TL;DR- Sexualizing characters is an issue but not simply because sexualization is occcuring. Everyone has different needs, interests, and ways they interact with the media they enjoy. All of which are worthy of respect. However, other's need their right to not be exposed to things that cause them discomfort respected to. So, it's always best to properly tag things with consideration towards those we share this space with. It's important that when doing what you want you spare consideration to those you can.

Now, Gunsli why would you be bringing up this? Well remember this post. In this post I said this,

While a factually sound statement it seems to have been misinterpreted. So, let us elaborate on it real quick.

It is important that everyone tag things properly with respect and consideration toward other fans.

People interact with sexuality and the concept of being sexualized in different ways. What may not seem like much to one person will more than likely be too much for another. This is where-

Hypo-sexualization and Hyper-sexualization come into play.

Source (CW: MENITIONS OF SECUAL ABUSE): X

Sexualization is a topic that is heavily rooted in individual perspective. Not only when it comes to real life people but fictional characters as well. What one person may find pleasing to read or see art of involving a certain character another person may dislike. However, the conversation I was personally having about Mikoto was never about whether or not he should be sexualized.

That's irrelevant. People should continue to do what they please in a way that is considerate of the other people in the community around them. Literally it is that easy.

But isn't sexualizing him when he has such a disorder bad?

Not sexualizing him solely based on the idea that he has a disorder is bad as well. People with dissociative disorders can and sometimes do want to be sexualized. If Mikoto was a real person then forcefully sexualizing him would be an issue. However, he is not.

Well, since we know the characters can hear what we're saying I'm uncomfortable with it.

I'm right there with anyone who is feeling that way. It's incredibly embarrassing to think that some of the views we've all seen now and again can or have been heard by Mikoto for the amount of time that it has been. For people who have experienced forced sexualization this can be a wildly upsetting thought and they have every right to be upset about it and display that upset.

However, no one has the right to tell others how they should enjoy things. Regardless of how much it causes them discomfort. In the same vein no one else has the right to continually expose people to something they have said they dislike. This is why personally I think tagging things appropriately is the best way to do things moving forward. We can't control how people talk about Mikoto on other platforms.

However, we can control if we respect and show consideration for the people within the fandom on the platform we are on. Regardless of how they enjoy a character or don't enjoy them. Regardless of if our opinions may vary. I don't think anyone here wants to have their actions cause anyone real life harm.

Yes, the sexualization of Mikoto's character can be upsetting considering one's lived experiences. However, derivative works are a way for many people to explore aspects of their own sexuality safetly and that aspect of fandom should be respected as well. Representation matters and as I stated in the previous post Dissociative Identiy Disorder is not a monoloith.

What one person finds unhealthy to be displayed in this instance may not be unhealthy to others. There are people that have Dissociative Identity Disorder that will, can, and should find the sexualization of Mikoto's character comforting. Simply because it displays that someone with the disorder can be desired in that way.

Then there will be others like me who dislike it. Because at times it can feel as though Mikoto canonically having Dissociative Identiy Disorder isn't being fully explored and it's just there to check off a switch kink.

“A switch is someone who demonstrates both characteristics and is comfortable with both submissive and dominant roles,” X

Which no one is really being slick about but like you don't need to do this with the one character that has Dissociative Identity Disorder literally anyone can be a switch.

Yet again I must stress him being sexualized was not my issue. The way he was being sexualized was. Something I failed to fully elaborate on in my previous point. So, I will now do so here.

My issue was the fact that the way Mikoto is sexualized veers into slut shaming. Something that many are very reluctant to say can happen to males, but it does.

The comments I've seen made about Mikoto are simply disgusting to me because they've literally mostly been,

"He knew what he was doing being shirtless in his video that many times"

Me: You mean changing his clothes in the comfort of his own home? You mean taking a shower and bath in the comfort of his own home?

Regardless of how someone presents themselves and where they are not responsible for someone else finding them attractive or interpreting them sexually. I wouldn't be okay with this being said about a male or female character. Simply because no one is responsible for what a person finds sexually attractive or not.

When I said what I said it wasn't meant to be from the lens of stop sexualizing this character you grossy gross's oh no my pure eyes have been sullied by your heathen ways.

No, it was literally making a very offhanded comment about something that had been bugging me since MeMe released actually since before Milgram was even a thing. The hyper-sexualization of men and the retraumatization of males who have experienced sexual violence through fetishization.

This was never about what people in the fandom should and shouldn't do. It was about interacting with the concept that males have sexual trauma too. That is ignored and heavily overlooked by society. Along with the fact that if Mikoto was Yuno most of this shit wouldn't be being said and provably so,

Yuno dressing like this was mostly described as impowering, liberating, her owning her sexuality.

I have to stress Mikoto was implied to be thrist trapping for taking a shower and bath in his own fucking home last trial. Yet Yuno is here in full lingerie, and I didn't even see one thing talking poorly about her to the extent THIS MAN HAS BEEN FOR WEARING WHAT HE IS IN THIS THUMBNAIL.

Naw you got me fucked up. It was never about the fact that sexualization exists. Because that's always going to exist. It was about how that is disproportionately displayed. Men are just as worthy to their own sexual autonomy and the respect of that as women are. That will always be my line with this.

Forced sexualization is bad whether it's happening to a man or woman. The characters should not be being discussed as though they are real people but the behavior that the fandom demonstrates publicly should be regarded with the consideration of real people. Because how one conducts themselves in the real world can and will impact real people.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

zapax /zˈapaks/: to attack (physically)

Negative Action. Present tense. Formal.

📖 Definition & Synonyms

→ Definition: To play "Whack-a-Mole" with someone who didn’t know they were playing. → Synonyms: assault, assail, rush, set upon

🗨️ Example Usage

→ Romanised: Bob'zapax Mark! Pann, timyoa. Qi'ca juwa. → English: Bob is attacking Mark! Nah, wait. It's a hug. → Audio:

→ Sollifreyan Font (v1):

🧩 Modifiers

→ Tense (simple): N-zapax (attacked) | zapax-N (will attack) → Negative: zapax-o (not attacking) → Slang: zapp

🔍 Advanced

Etymology and Morphological Breakdown

Zap (Root): From "zap," meaning "to attack (physically)."

Ax (Suffix): Utilised as a common suffix for actions in Gallifreyan.

Usage and Additional Notes

Conceptualisation of 'Zapax': The term "zapax" can be understood as 'to attack (physically),' encapsulating the action of engaging in physical aggression or violence. It denotes a negative and aggressive action, distinct from verbal forms of attack.

Differentiation from 'Stax': The term "stax" means 'to attack verbally,' derived from "sta" (attack verbally) + "x" (action suffix). It is important to distinguish "zapax" (physical attack) from "stax" (verbal attack).

(GIL Gallifreyan Conlang Guide)

Gallifreyan Word for Wednesday by GIL

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[comshipbracket]

Antis DNI - Block the tag "comship" if this causes discomfort.

Remember, you are voting for the ship you prefer, not the ship you find more problematic

Propaganda for both ships under the cut.

Disclaimer: All ships (other than NozoCoco) on this bracket are FOLLOWER-SUBMITTED ships, the Mods do not always hold necessary knowledge to be aware of any errors or fanonizing what should be canon material that may arise.

Arthorin Propaganda (Toxic Dynamic)

"For anyone who hasn’t seen Little Shop of Horrors, Orin is a sadistic and abusive dentist who gets off on causing others pain and Arthur Denton (otherwise known as Bill Murray to those who don’t know Little Shop well enough to know the character’s name) is a masochistic patient of his who makes him extremely uncomfortable with his enjoyment of his dental torture. If comfortable with scenes like this, I would recommend watching the fairly short scene that showcases their dynamic if you haven’t seen it (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XB7R0ZxNgC4) because it’s hilarious and one of the more iconic scenes in the movie. Plus the explicit queer rep (in the form of Arthur at the very least) in an 80s movie is cool, and the narrative presents him as being weird because of his masochism and not because of his queerness. There’s already some subtextual evidence of Orin not being straight with how he physically dominates Seymour and clearly gets very excited about this and the idea of hurting him, and the contrast of how he interacts with another man who is clearly uncomfortable with this and a man who clearly loves it is interesting.

This difference can be read as a joke about sadists and masochists being surprisingly incompatible and/or as an insight into some interesting aspects of Orin’s character. With Orin being so incredibly hypermasculine, I like the idea of him essentially worshiping at the altar of masculinity and having some very thoroughly shoved down insecurities about needing to be as masculine as possible due to a combination of his naturally enthusiastic and aggressive personality and growing up/living in a society that heavily prioritizes masculinity and sees masculinity ‘tainted’ by anything resembling femininity as not real masculinity (1930s-60s America), and his extreme discomfort with providing sexual pleasure even when the actions that are providing it can also benefit him can be read as a demonstration of this, since the conceptualization of women as being of the gender that is ‘for’ sexual pleasure and men as being of the gender that should receive it exclusively that he would’ve picked up as a significant part of his worldview in this reading would naturally cause him to be viscerally uncomfortable with providing sexual pleasure.

The fact that Arthur is a man compounds this, since gayness and gay sex acts were often seen as feminine at the time. With Seymour, he can pretend to himself that he’s just defending his ‘property’ of his girlfriend who Seymour has a crush on ‘as any man has a right to,’ and Seymour’s reaction of fear helps with this, but Arthur in contrast inadvertently forces him to come face to face with his deeply rooted fear of not being masculine enough instead of being able to mostly shove it down like he normally does by causing him to want to ‘outcompete’ him ‘as a man should’ by torturing him until he no longer derives sexual gratification from it, thus temporarily trapping him in the actions that are bringing up this insecurity for him. Arthur, of course, ‘wins’ by deriving even more sexual gratification from what Orin is doing, thereby eventually forcing him to ‘surrender’ by kicking him out, which he responds to by attempting to frame this ‘surrender’ as him kicking a man who is failing to follow his rules out of ‘his territory’ ‘as a man should’ and then taking his anger out on Seymour/attempting to reestablish his masculinity by conquering another man, which is a great setup for a very tense confrontation between one of the villains and the main protagonist and is very ironic considering that Orin is acting pretty gay as a way of trying to make up for doing something gay.

Plus with Seymour arguably kind of wanting to be Orin in a way in order to be properly masculine for Audrey/so that she’ll want him (as shown by him stating through a metaphor of wanting his Harley machine, a symbol of masculinity, to be like James Dean, a symbol of masculinity, in order to make other men jealous, which again ties into the behavior of outcompeting other men that men were/are expected to do, after seeing him drive off with Audrey on said Harley machine/metaphorically take possession of her due to him being ‘properly masculine’), Orin himself essentially being whipped into a frenzy by those same notions of what is ‘proper’ masculinity and then attempting to torture and maybe even kill him is an excellent metaphor for how destructive that desire of his could end up being and really goes to show that no one wins when it comes to restrictive gender norms, even those who are good at performing them and like them."

Stuilly Propaganda (Abusive Dynamic)

"Billy is bent on murderous revenge, and Stu is the fucked up little person who's along for the ride. Their killing spree climaxed with symbolic mutual penetration as they stab each other as part of their scheme to pin it all on the film's final girl. The way they touch each other is affectionate to the point of intimacy. When their plan is out, Stu can't keep his hands off of Billy."

[theprinceofmycologia]

Panthercap - Amanita pantherina

This post will discuss Amanita pantherina or the panthercap, a beautiful poisonous mushroom from the same genus as the iconic Amanita muscaria or the fly agaric.

This post includes pictures that I took last fall when I came across multiple panthercaps, only the microscopic picture of the spores I did not make myself. One of the panthercaps I took with me to make a spore print so there are pictures of that too:)

Fruitbody

The cap of Amanita pantherina ranges from 4 to 16 centimeters in diameter. The cap has a shiny brown, tan or yellowish brown colour and has a very finely striate margin. Initially the cap is domed but flattens out as the fruitbody matures. The pure white remains of the universal veil are dotted fairly even over the surface of the cap.¹

The gills of the panthercap are white, free, crowded and relatively broad.¹

The stipe of Amanita pantherina ranges from 4 to 18 centimeters tall and has a pure white colour with a hanging ring. The base of the stipe is slightly swollen and bulbous.¹

Spores and microscopic features

The spores are white of colour and are broadly ellipsoidal to ovoid, smooth, 8-12 x 6.7-7.5µm and inamyloid.¹ The basidia are 4-spored, rarely with clamps.²

Spore print

To make the spore print I seperated the stipe from the cap and put the cap down on paper. I sprinkled some water on top of the cap and left it over-night. In the morning I had this beautiful spore print.

Some advise I can give, however, is to make the spore print outside in case there are maggots in the mushroom. Sharp as ever, I forgot about that and woke up to find some maggots crawling over the cap, which had gotten all mushy on the top because of it.

Psychoactivitiy

The panthercap can contain the psychoactive chemical compounds ibotenic acid and muscimol as well as muscazone and muscarine. These are not the same as the psychoactive chemicals associated with many other psychedelic mushrooms which often contain psilocybin. The psychoactive compounds contained in Amanita pantherina are also toxins, which means that this species must be treated as a poisonous mushroom.¹

Ecology and distribution

Amanita pantherina forms ectomycorrhizal relationships with trees in deciduous and coniferous woodlands. Being an ectomycorrhizal fungus, it lives in root symbiosis with trees, deriving photosynthesised nutrients from it and providing soil nutrients in return.³ They might grow alone, scattered, or gregariously.²

The panthercap can be found throughout (southern) Europe and western Asia in late summer and autumn.³ It can also be found in the western North America during the fall and winter.²

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References

1.

2.

3.

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Mutuals:

@squidsandthings

@fungus-gnats

@fairy-tales-of-yesterday

@flamingears

@lameotello

@lovelyalicorn

@writingraccoon

Another mycology infodump:)

[informatikerin-freyja]

Just a few notes on polynomials. A complex polynomial p(x) has a root α of multiplicity k if and only if we can write p(x) = (x - α)^k q(x) where q(α) is nonzero. Differentiating this we get p'(x) = (x - α)^(k-1) (k q(x) + (x - α)q'(x)) showing that (x - α)^(k-1) divides \gcd(p(x), p'(x)). Now k q(α) is non-zero and (α - α)q'(α) is zero, so we see that the "multiplicity" of α goes down by one in p'(x), potentially hitting zero in which case it is no longer a root. Thus, p(x) has a repeated root if and only if it has a common root with p'(x).

Writing p(x) = \prod_{i=1}^{m} (x - α_i)^(k_i) with each α_i distinct it follows from the above analysis that \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) = \prod_{i=1}^{m} (x - α_i)^(k_i - 1). Hence, \deg \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) = \sum_{i=1}^{m} (k_i - 1) = \sum_{i} k_i - m = \deg(p(x)) - m. As m is the number of distinct roots, we then see that letting dis(p(x)) be the number of distinct roots we get

deg(gcd(p(x), p'(x))) = deg(p(x)) - dis(p(x)).

Suppose now that we have p + q = r for some non-constant polynomials which are coprime. It follows that

p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x) = p'(x) (r(x) - p(x)) - p(x) (r'(x) - p'(x)) = p'(x) r(x) - p'(x) p(x) - p(x) r'(x) + p(x) p'(x) = p'(x) r(x) - p(x) r'(x)

Assuming for the sake of contradiction that p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x) = 0 then it would follow that p'(x) q(x) = p(x) q'(x). Given that p(x) and q(x) are coprime this forces q(x) to divide q'(x) which is impossible by considering their degrees (because q(x) is non-constant it cannot divide its derivative). Thus, p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x) is non-zero.

So \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) divides p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x) and \gcd(q(x), q\(x)) divides p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x) and \gcd(r(x), r'(x))) divides p'(x) r(x) - p(x) r'(x) which is the same thing. As our polynomials are coprime so two are these GCDs meaning that \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) \gcd(q(x), q'(x)) \gcd(r(x), r'(x)) divides p'(x) q(x) - p(x) q'(x). This means that \deg \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) + \deg \gcd(q(x), q'(x)) + \deg \gcd(r(x), r'(x)) \le \deg(p'(x) q(x) + p(x) q'(x)) = \deg p(x) + \deg q(x) - 1 Now we can apply our earlier considerations on the degrees of such greatest common divisors to find that \deg \gcd(p(x), p'(x)) = \deg p(x) - \dis p(x) \deg \gcd(q(x), q'(x)) = \deg q(x) - \dis q(x) \deg \gcd(r(x), r'(x)) = \deg r(x) - \dis r(x) So plopping that all together, we have \max( \deg r(x), \deg p(x), \deg q(x) ) \le \dis p(x) + \dis q(x) + \dis r(x) -1 = \dis (pqr) - 1 Thus we have shown the Mason-Stothers Theorem: Given non-constant coprime p(x), q(x), and r(x) with p(x) + q(x) = r(x) in \mathbb{C}[x] it follows that \max(\deg p(x), \deg q(x), \deg r(x)) \le \dis p(x)q(x)r(x) - 1. As an application, Suppose that p(x)^n + q(x)^n = r(x)^n in \mathbb{C}[x] where p(x), q(x), and r(x) are coprime and n \ge 3, and furthermore \deg r(x) \ge \max(\deg p(x), \deg q(x)). It follows that n \deg r(x) \le \dis p(x) q(x) r(x) - 1 \le \deg p(x) + \deg q(x) + \deg r(x) - 1 hence (n - 1) \deg r(x) \le \deg p(x) + \deg q(x) - 1 which is impossible.

[science-lover33]

Decoding the Pharmacological Symphony of Turkey Tail Mushroom: An In-Depth Analysis of its Chemical Composition, Immunomodulatory Mechanisms, and Implications in Cancer Therapeutics 🍄🔬

Salutations, esteemed Tumblr intellectuals! Brace yourselves for a cerebral sojourn into the pharmacological labyrinth of Turkey Tail Mushroom, an exploration that transcends the ordinary and delves into the intricate interplay of its chemical constituents, the sophisticated mechanisms of immunomodulation, and the far-reaching implications of its therapeutic potential in the intricate landscape of cancer biology. Prepare your minds for an expedition into the realms of molecular complexity, immune orchestration, and therapeutic promise. Grab your favorite scientific journal, a pen, and perhaps a lab coat, for this journey is not for the faint of intellectual heart. ☕📚

Chemical Symphony: An Elaborate Choreography of Bioactive Compounds:

In the molecular ballet of Turkey Tail, bioactive compounds are the principal dancers, each executing a meticulously choreographed routine. Polysaccharopeptides (PSPs), intricate glycoproteins with immunomodulatory acumen, command attention. Through the fine-tuned modulation of immune responses, these compounds stimulate various facets of the immune system, orchestrating an elaborate dance that amplifies the body's ability to recognize and eliminate neoplastic cells. Concurrently, beta-glucans, linear glucose polymers, contribute to this biochemical ballet by fine-tuning immune cell responses, enhancing the overall antitumor immune surveillance.

Navigating the Anti-Tumor Terrain: A Molecular Expedition:

Our scientific cartography navigates the expansive anti-tumor terrain mapped out by Turkey Tail's polysaccharides. The inhibitory effects on tumor growth and metastasis are akin to molecular fortifications against cancer progression. Through intricate mechanisms involving the activation of natural killer cells, cytotoxic T cells, and macrophages, Turkey Tail emerges as a sentinel, curbing the unchecked proliferation of malignant cells. Additionally, its antioxidative prowess, rooted in compounds like ergosterol peroxide, further shields cellular structures from oxidative stress, a nexus in carcinogenesis.

Immersive References: Nourishment for the Inquisitive Intellect:

1. Stamets, P. (2012). "Turkey Tail: Old Medicine, New Hope." Integrative Medicine: A Clinician's Journal, 11(1), 54–59.

- Stamets' exposé weaves a tapestry connecting ancient medicinal wisdom with contemporary insights, shedding light on Turkey Tail's multifaceted potential.

2. Wasser, S. P. (2011). "Current findings, future trends, and unsolved problems in studies of medicinal mushrooms." Applied Microbiology and Biotechnology, 89(5), 1323–1332.

- Wasser's comprehensive review acts as a meta-analysis, synthesizing the current knowledge landscape of medicinal mushrooms, positioning Turkey Tail within the broader discourse.

3. Sun, J. E., Ao, Z. H., Lu, Z. M., Xu, H. Y., Zhang, X. M., & Dou, W. F. (2002). "Antihyperglycemic and antilipidperoxidative effects of dry matter of culture broth of Inonotus obliquus in submerged culture on normal and alloxan-diabetes mice." Journal of Ethnopharmacology, 95(2-3), 285–292.

- In the realm of metabolic interactions, this study offers a glimpse into the potential implications of Turkey Tail compounds in managing hyperglycemia and lipid peroxidation.

4. Kidd, P. M. (2000). "The use of mushroom glucans and proteoglycans in cancer treatment." Alternative Medicine Review, 5(1), 4–27.

- Kidd's magnum opus serves as a compendium, dissecting the applications of mushroom-derived compounds in cancer therapeutics, providing a nuanced understanding.

Empowering the Community: A Call for Translational Excellence:

Knowledge is a potent elixir, yet its administration demands finesse. As we unlock the mysteries of Turkey Tail Mushroom, let us champion translational excellence, bridging the realms of bench and bedside. Always, without exception, seek the counsel of healthcare professionals, for personalized insights into the delicate interplay of molecular intricacies. Our collective journey extends beyond unraveling the pharmacological nuances; it's a clarion call to empower our community with the technical acumen to navigate the dynamic expanse of cancer research. 🌐💚

Your musings on this intricately detailed exploration are most welcome!

[creature-wizard]

Got another New Agey spam message in my inbox and it's really long and also advertising a specific person, so I'm not going to post the whole thing. But I'm going to quote and talk about a few specific pieces from it.

Intense movement with solar and earth energy over the last 24 hours… We received a large X 3.38 solar flare and 3 M flares in the last 24 hours with density purging and light codes to show the way.

So, your New Age types have been claiming for years that Big Things Are Coming. Quantum healing technologies! New monetary system! Ascension to 5D! All the bad guys gone! According to their own past predictions, these things should be here already.

We’ve been living in a massive sleepy illusion unaware (for most) that we’ve been used as fuel for parasites siphoning us dry.

This is your standard Protocols-derived conspiracy theory nonsense right here, rooted in the antisemitic beliefs/propaganda about greedy Jews hoarding all of the money. It is, unfortunately, a very prominent element of New Age beliefs these days.

The Schumann resonance is reflecting some density clearing. The purification of earth is underway as the distortions, inversions, and inorganic darkness of the 9th sphere/veil/fracture within Mother Earth are purified. We experienced a barrage of M class solar flares the last 3 days with the largest being and M 5.18 flare. How are you feeling? The symptoms could be quite intense with all the incoming light codes that help us transmute the density within. Some common symptoms may include neck and/or spine pain, GI issues and purging, fever, burning sensations on the body- for me it is my lips, head pressure, itching, high pitched tones in the ears, spine and neck pain, sacral/womb/kidney area pain, fatigue, downloads/revelations, and excess mucus as the body releases toxins, just to name a few.

For years, New Agers have been claiming that symptoms like these are symptoms of ascension, bad energy purging, etc., and again, their associated predictions have never come to pass. (Seriously, that whole ascension into 5D was supposed have happened already several times over.) If you experience symptoms like these, please do not dismiss them as a healthy spiritual process. Please talk to a doctor, and if your doctor cannot find an obvious cause, please consider the following:

You might be experiencing symptoms of stress, anxiety, and/or depression.

You might have some sort of food intolerance.

You might have allergies.

You might have something like endometriosis, fibromyalgia, or some other poorly-understood condition.

Your doctor might not be taking your symptoms seriously due to medical misogyny, racism, etc.

Your doctor is just incompetent, period.

So yeah, this kind of spiritual content is pure bullshit. It's all a bunch of pseudoscience and conspiratorial thinking dolled up as Very Enlightened Spirituality, which it is most definitely not.

[whatissleepanyway]

I was minding my business while studying a bit of linguistics (because my brain is an absolute piece of shit that refuses to go into homework-doing mode unless I give him his daily hours of random facts), when I stumbled/face-planted into a PDF about vowel armony and I saw something highly familiar. At first I couldn't wrap my head around it, and then-

You know how in throne of glass there are those Ruks. Those flying piece of cute meat that would be able to tear apart our limbs like they were nothing but honey?

What do we know about them? They are cute. They ship Sartaq x Nesryn (you can't convince me otherwise, have you seen her? Katara was giving Sartaq the look all the time), they can slice enemies and most importantly they fly.

You know how to say fly in Swahili? You don't? Well I sure fucking didn't. In Swahili the root of the word fly is -ruk-.

How, I mean actually how?? Is she a genius? My brain is imploding here while a malefical laugh resonates in the distance (which I believe is to attribuite to her). I truly thought this serie had finished giving me wonders, guess I was wrong, like very wrong.

Now I need to re-read Throne of Glass and see if there are any other words derived from Swahili, which means that I will be crying for days for Sam's death (yes I'm still crying, I am using my tears to counter-attack global warming, so I guess by the next week we won't have any problem in that matter) and grieve over Nehemia.

Just in case any of you wants to controll said PDF, click on this link and go on page six, who'll find Swahili at the bottom.