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fbfh · 1 year

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rodrick x hyperfeminine hcs pt 3: changes: the big prom: the sex romp: the season finale

wc: 2.2k

genre: angst and fluff, teenage dream

pairing: rodrick x hyperfeminine!reader

warnings: roddy has low self esteem, madison and heather are not good friends prom trope, happy ending

summary: you and rodrick are both planning on ditching prom because if you can't go with each other, you don't want to go at all. fate has other plans, and rodrick thinks maybe prom isn't that overrated after all.

song recs: teenage dirtbag - wheatus, wasting love - iron maiden

a/n: LAST PART IN THE RODDY X HYPERFEM ARC!!! send me roddy asks bc this boy deserves more love. also if you get the clone high reference in the title I love you

(optionally) the iconic dress

tags @dustyinkpages @the-snake-pit @inthehoneymoonwithconnorrk800 @followingthefanfiction @2220825 @marveldemigod17 @celootaku1 @stay-to-reblog @whos-mixxie @mikulovingtrash @inthemindofaweirdo @b0nes-phobic @myymmeloo @wanderlustingcastaway @debbi3-debaser @lubunnii @imaybewrongbutidoubtit @cloverhasnobrain @bessonasa @strangelysamantha @1-800-starkindustrie @brookeskitty @1ummcalhoody6 @always1s4youbitch-blog @citri-koi @vincentluvr444 @brunnetteiwik @melllinaa @reeces-pieses @mentamaree @jasontodd-artemisgrace4life @jinniy

You’ve spent the last few weeks throwing yourself into the project of planning Heather and Madison’s prom outfits

And hair

And makeup

And accessories

But that all comes with the territory of getting ready for prom

Once you decided to put them in soft pastels and flowy floaty ball gown dresses, word got out pretty quickly that that was the look for prom season in plainview

Everyone was getting the poofiest, softest dresses they could get their hands on

Soon selkie dresses and all their knock offs were sold out everywhere

Even white and pastel suits and tuxedos were selling like hotcakes

Heather and Madison keep asking about your dress, but you don’t have the heart to tell them you don’t have one yet

Because you don’t plan on going

If you can’t go with Rodrick you don’t want to go at all

You don’t want Heather and Madison to be disappointed, so you haven’t told them that your real plans for prom night are to stay at home in your cozy pink pajamas and watch romantic comedies while you throw chocolates at the screen like a heartbroken Elle Woods

Rodrick has similar plans to blow off prom night

With less romcoms and pedicures, but he still has no intention of going

He managed to score Iron Maiden tickets for the friday after prom for him and the guys

Even though Ward is probably going to flake on them so he can spend the weekend with his girlfriend

Her parents are out of town then, so none of them can blame him

Rodrick’s been going out of his way to throw out every flier and leaflet about prom that gets sent to their house before his mom can see it

And it’s been going fine

Until Greg decides to be a little asshole and get revenge for a harmless prank Rodrick pulled on him

Sure, Greg’s skin was stained blue for the rest of the week

But still

That doesn’t warrant showing their mom all the prom flyers and convincing her that Rodrick can’t possibly miss out on this developmental milestone

Rodrick was desperate not to go

And he almost got away with it

But before he knows it, it’s prom night and his mom barges into his room with the flier insisting he goes

Rodrick tries everything he can think of to change her mind

“Mom, I don’t have anything to wear.”

She digs through his closet and holds up the only clean shirt and tie in his closet, giving him a look in response

“I don’t have a ride.”

“You can take your van.”

“I don’t have a date!”

That one gets him a 10 minute lecture about building character and planning ahead

“And I’m sure if you ask nicely there will be some girl who will dance with you. To real music, not that… screaming and thrashing and noise you’re always playing.” Susan says, pausing the spotify playlist he’d been blasting

Rodrick rolls his eyes at how out of touch she is

Everyone at school thinks he’s some loser punk

And now he’s going to show up late to prom with no date??

He’s glad prom is only for seniors, because he would never be able to live this down otherwise

Maybe it won’t be too bad

He can just sit in the parking lot and blast Green Day until it’s time to leave

“And don’t you think you can just go somewhere else, or hide in your van. You know my friend Linda?”

Susan doesn’t wait for Rodrick to answer

“Well, she’s a chaperone, and she’ll tell me if you’re not there. Okay? This is for your own good, Rodrick.”

Fuck

Well, that idea’s out

“Fine, I’ll go…” Rodrick agrees, reluctantly giving in

Susan is delighted

She starts to leave so he can get changed, but he stops her before she can

“Can I borrow your eyeliner?”

A little while later, he’s sitting in his van in the school parking lot

He was already wearing black converse and ripped black jeans, so he just had to throw on the black button up and red tie his mom found

His hair was perfectly messed up from the nap he was startled awake from when his mom barged in

He shoves his headphones in his pocket, and after putting it off for as long as he can, he gets out and closes the door

Maybe it won’t be so bad

Maybe there will be some live music that’s actually decent

Ward and his girlfriend are already there, so maybe they’ll take pity on him and let him third wheel for a while so he doesn’t feel like such a total loser

He opens the doors to the gym, and is met with a hellscape of fluffy pastels and cutesy radio pop

Even the guys are in white and soft shades of blue and green and yellow

He feels like he’s going to throw up

He's in hell

This is what hell looks like

Among the hellscape of fluffy pastel tulle, Heather and Madison text you in a fit, wondering where the hell you are

You’re missing prom for god’s sake

You text them back the same thing you’ve been telling them all night

You’re running late, you’re having wardrobe malfunctions, but have fun and you’ll be there soon

When their dates leave to get them drinks, Madison sees someone sulking at a table

It’s Rodrick Heffley

She subtly takes a picture of him from across the room and texts Madison

🚨HEFFLEY ALERT🚨

He looks fucking pathetic lmao

Like how sad can u get lskjsldkfjd

Heather responds, laughing at what a loser he is

Only Madison didn’t just text Heather

She texted the group chat with Heather, her, and you

Your phone starts blowing up with more texts from Heather and Madison

You finally check their texts, assuming it’ll be more of the same

Your heart drops when you see a picture of Rodrick sitting alone at a table

“He couldn’t even get a date?? How pathetic 💀”

Your stomach sinks as you feel your heart break for Rodrick

He doesn’t deserve this

And neither do you

Rodrick should get to enjoy his prom

And you should get to have at least one chance with him

You have to see him

You have to crash prom and tell him you’ve been crazy about him since the moment you saw him

You have to ask him to dance with you

You have to try

Realizing how much you have to do in such a short amount of time, you throw yourself out of bed

You dig through your closet until you find your sweet 16 dress

It’s not at all on brand with the unofficial theme for prom, but it will have to do

You grab shoes and some matching jewelry and get dressed in a hurry

After throwing on the slinky, glittering, hot pink evening gown, you put on a pair of matching marabou heels

Your earrings and choker accent your glittering dress, and the high slit in the floor length skirt shows off your shoes perfectly

You finish pulling yourself together and rush out the door to get to prom as fast as possible

You feel like Cinderella rushing to the ball, hoping to meet prince charming

And you really feel like you have a shot at pulling this off.

Rodrick feels like absolute shit

He didn’t think prom could feel this awful, but here he is

Alone at a table like a total loser while everyone else is dancing and having a good time

He looked around for Ward

And found him and his girlfriend hooking up under the bleachers

And in the bathroom

And in an empty classroom

So third wheeling is officially not an option anymore

He feels like everyone is laughing at him

Some of them literally are

And in a room full of poofy pastel dresses and suits, he sticks out like a sore thumb

His outfit does kind of look like Gerard Way in the music video for Helena

But that’s obviously lost on all his mainstream pop obsessed classmates

He’s in a crowded room full of everyone in his grade

And he’s never felt more alone

This is torture

He’s about to get up and leave when the doors open on the other side of the gym

Heads turn as a gasp fills the room, followed by low murmuring

The crowd parts like Moses parting the sea, and Rodrick looks over curiously

You emerge from the graveyard of pastel tulle in a gorgeous, slinky, hot pink dress that looks like Elle Woods and Marilyn Monroe combined

And you’re looking right at him

His heart starts pounding

You walk toward him as a hush falls over the room

This can’t be real

There’s no way this is real

“Hi, Rodrick.” you say softly

He’s confused as fuck and feels like he could cry

You actually know who he is??

You know his name???

“...Hi,” he chokes out, unsure of where the hell this is going

You look up at him with your pretty sparkly eyes and he feels like dreaming

“I…” you start, and he realizes you’re looking at him the way he looks at you, the way he’s been looking at you since he first saw you

“I never got to thank you for playing at my party.” You say softly

Thank him??

You actually liked it??

Everyone is staring at you with their jaws on the floor, but neither of you notice or care right now

He manages to choke out a response that probably sounds really stupid, but you just giggle sweetly

Are you blushing??

“Would-” you start, finally deciding to swallow your nerves and bite the bullet

You have to go for it

You’ve never liked someone as much as you like Rodrick and if you don’t try now you’ll regret it for the rest of your life

Rodrick’s heart is hammering in his chest

You look so pretty he could die

“Do you want to dance?”

The words are out before your nerves can take over

He looks at you in disbelief

“Yeah,” he breaths, hoping that if this is a dream that it’s one he won’t wake up from for a while

You step closer to him, but you both freeze as the next song starts playing

It’s another oversaturated top 50 pop song

You grimace in unison

Rodrick notices your mutual distaste for the overplayed song

If you really liked loded diper…

“Uh, here,” he pulls out his headphones and offers you one

“Thanks,” you say, trying to suppress the butterflies erupting inside you

It feels intimate, sharing headphones and listening to his playlists

You fight a giddy smile and pop in the headphone as he hits shuffle

A flash of fear that you’ll judge him for his music taste and this whole beautiful dream will be ruined burns through him

Your pause as the music begins to play

Rodrick’s fear vanishes as fast as it came when you look up at him with enthusiastic sincerity

“I love Iron Maiden!”

“Really?” he asks

He thought you couldn’t surprise him anymore than you have tonight, but this just keeps getting better and better

“Yeah,” you nod, smiling brightly as you place his hands on your waist

You sway softly to the beat of the song

You rest your head on Rodrick’s chest, a banger of a song playing in one ear, and Rodrick’s thudding heartbeat in the other

Neither of you are aware of the stares, of Heather freaking out behind you, of the whispers and the gossip or one of the teachers cashing in on winning a bet that Rodrick would actually dance with someone by the end of the night

Even if you did, you wouldn’t care

Rodrick holds you tight, never wanting this night to end

His heart starts pounding harder as he looks down at you, and you pull away from him enough to look up at him

He swallows, hoping this goes well

“Me and the guys are going to see Iron Maiden next friday and I have an extra ticket, would you want to-”

You’re already nodding

“Yes!” you beam

Going to an amazing concert with the hottest guy you’ve ever seen is literally what you’ve been dreaming of for years

Rodrick lets out a chuckle, overjoyed that this worked, that he’s dancing with you and you said yes

He makes a mental note to thank his mom for forcing him to come here

But he forgets it as soon as you stretch up, pulling his face down to yours

You press a warm kiss to his lips, one full of anticipation, one you’ve both been dreaming about

He pulls you closer, melting into your touch

He thinks maybe high school isn’t as bad as he thought

#rodrick #rodrick x reader #rodrick heffley x reader #rodrick heffley #doawk rodrick #rodrick x girly reader #rodrick x hyperfeminine reader #girly!reader #hyperfeminine!reader #doawk #doawk x reader #RODRICK IS THE TEENAGE DIRTBAG #ITS HIS SONG

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acesofspadess · 2 months

Text

the right thing to do

Lando Norris x black!driver!OC (Ace Jules Giovanelli)

warnings: angry Lando, cursing, crashes (mentioned), physical injury (mentioned) kissing??

ace radio 🔊 this took a little bit longer than expected, but first F1 fix is here! 4.5k words so get comfortable and enjoy

Being one of the first women in F1 was tricky but you managed to come into one of the top teams; McLaren. You and Lando had been great teammates for the past 18 months, but even better soulmates for 12 months. Your confessions were after the Silverstone 2023 Grand Prix making second and third. You had yet to win but were inching closer and closer every race.

Today in the Hungarian Grand Prix you knew the front row lineup between you and Lando would prove to be a race indeed.

“IT’S LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO!”

Lando merged across the track closer to you but stayed far enough to not throw you off. You managed to overtake him while he was fighting with Max and there you were, P1.

Being in the lead for most of the race with Lando behind you gave you the adrenaline to push. The first pit stops were great and you managed to work back up to P1. It was the second set of pit stops that made the race tricky

You watched Lando merge behind you into the pits; effectively watching your maiden win get thrown in the bin.

“Why didn’t we box?!”

There was no answer until you made your way around the track.

‘box box’

You wanted to cry but knew that it wouldn’t help. You had a great pit stop and worked your way back to P2.

Lap 51

(commentator) We’re getting ready to hear what they're telling Ace for the first time

‘Okay Ace, so once you get to Lando, we’ll swap positions. We’ll swap positions, but we want to avoid Lando having to give up a lot of race time.”

“That’s not fair to Lando, you boxed him first telling him to drop isn’t fair.’

‘Team orders Ace.’ Andrea’s voice came through.

“I want to win, I'm telling you I do.” Your voice cracked emotions high, “but not like this.”

‘Ace, not here.’

‘Fuck!.’

Wow you can hear the emotion in her voice. She doesn't want the race to go like this either.

You knew then that there was no other choice. You had to race.

‘Once you catch up to Lando he’ll let you pass.’

But he wasn't giving up, and quite frankly neither were you.

‘I can't catch up to him like this.’

‘working on it’

It looks like Ace is trying to go for it, despite not agreeing to the team orders

You were frustrated for so many reasons. For them giving Lando P1 and then taking it from him, but also for yourself because he wouldn’t follow the team's order.

You tried to maintain the pace but you knew the tire deg was going to catch up to you if you weren’t careful.

You saw Lando start to slow down and pressed a little harder to pass him. You threw up half of a heart in thanks and appreciation for the uneasy decision.

It was only then you realised that you only had a lap left until you won your first grand prix

“We are witnessing history here this afternoon. Daughter to a hairdresser, goddaughter of Jules Bianchi. We watched her fight fearlessly through Formula 3, Formula Renault, Formula 2, and now Formula1. She has done it folks! Ace Giovanelli is the first woman to win a Formula 1 sprint race and now a Formula 1 race. The youngest driver on the grid has scored her maiden win, putting her third in Drivers Championships, behind her teammate Lando Norris.

‘That’s P1 Ace, P1!’

They could hear your tears over the radio.

‘Thank you, thank you, thank you. This means so much. Thank you Rup, Zak, Andrea. The whole fucking team. Sorry for making the team orders hard. My pace wasn’t good enough to close the gap without Lando slowing down. But Lando. Mon ange. I love you. I couldn’t have made it this far without your love and support and I couldn’t have won this race without you, and i will be the first one to say that. I love you. Thank you all so so much. To mum I love you. To every single girl out there. Follow your dreams, no matter what anyone else says, especially if it's F1. To the girls in F1 academy, this is also for you. You will be right here winning your first race too, never give up.‘Et à Jules. Ceci est pour vous! Merci de m'avoir montré ce qu'était le karting, je sais que c'était un désastre à gérer. Je vous aimerai pour toujours. J'aimerais que vous soyez ici.’ First win Spade Army!!!!’

Parking in parc ferme with the big 1 in front of you was surreal. You just sat taking it in when you felt a bump against your head knowing it was Lando helmet tapping you. You finally got out of the car and stood on the front, fist pumping like crazy. You immediately ran to your team and jumped on them knowing they would catch you.

You didn't know how many hugs and congratulations you received but you never wanted it to end. You went to the weigh station and saw you had lost a lot of weight, unsurprisingly. You finally took off your helmet and balaclava revealing the four twists you always put your curls in. you undid them and shook them out dramatically knowing your fans always loved when you did it and put on the hat that had P1 on it.

You found Lando as Lewis was talking and jumped into him throwing him off his balance. ‘Thank you.” you whispered as he hugged you back. You repeated it over and over again until the tears made it unable to speak. He pulled your face from out of his neck and held it in his hands. ‘You deserved it baby.’ you knew he meant it but saw the sadness in his eyes. ‘I love you.’

He was pulled away from you but still mouthed those three words back to you before starting his interview. Lewis picked you up, throwing you over his shoulder and spinning you around and you laughed and screamed. ‘Lewis!!’

‘So proud of you little sis. Many more to come.’ you hugged him thankfully and walked in separate directions to start your interview and for him to go to the cool down room

“Ace! It is your first Formula 1 win on a Sunday, and your breaking records as the first woman to win an F1 race. How is it?”

“It's very very special. This is the day I dreamed of as a kid. Being on the top step of an F1 podium, as a woman that feeling is one-hundred times better. I won’t ignore the complications at the end, but I put myself in the right position at the start, and just thank you to the team for an amazing car. It's been otherworldly racing with McLaren. I can’t thank them enough for trusting me and making a little girl's dream come true.”

“How are you feeling with the car McLaren is giving you now?”

“Yeah it's,” you whistled ending with a little chuckle. “It's a beast right now. In every condition we've managed to get a podium, is it the driver, is it the car,” you laughed again as it was an ongoing joke that you and Lando were the true main piece. “But it really was a great car. We had it under our control and it was very fast today, a six second gap is no joke. But securing a win, let alone a 1-2, who knows when the last 1-2 was so, incredibly happy with the whole team and getting my first win on the board.”

The camera, unbeknownst to you, caught Lando watching the interview with a small smile on his face.

“You said it was under control, but the team order situation did not seem under control from the outside. How were you towards the end there? That Lando might not actually let you through?’

You chuckled a bit knowing it was the first of many questions aimed towards the situation. “I mean the longer you leave it, your nerves start to kick in. But I knew he would eventually listen. And on the off chance he didn’t, i would fully respect that because you have to be selfish in this sport. I haven't heard Landos team radio yet but I'm sure it will be uh- informative- to say the least. But yeah, it's team work whether we like it or not, but no, I knew he would have done it.”

“So we can assume this is the first of many wins. You’re proving to be such a special talent out there.”

“I hope so.” you laughed while looking around. “I’ve definitely still got things to work on, like my pace and stuff, but I'll enjoy this win as much as I can. Try to be back here under less complicated circumstances.”

“Next is Spa, very different track, lots of downforce. Do you expect to see yourselves at the front there too?”

“Yeah I do. You have to be confident in your team and your partner no matter what, but genuinely I think we've got another 1-2 on the way. It's also Landos second home race,” you paused to look at him quickly, “so spirits are high for that.”

“Alright. Congratulations Ace on your first win. Absolutely spectacular.”

“Merci!”

You walked away putting the mic down, and grabbing your helmet and sticking your balaclava and gloves into it before walking into the cool down room.

“…you made the most out of it seven years ago, and now it's us.” You felt the tension the moment you walked in. “I wasn't complaining, I was just complimenting that you guys were fast.” You heard the dejected and confused tone in your grid-brother’s voice. “Lando.” you scolded and he sighed, “Sorry mate.” you nodded at Lando as a thank you and Lewis shrugged it off. “No worries, emotions are high.” he dapped him up as he stood in front of the television.

You sat down in the middle seat with a giddy smile on your face. You watched the race highlights, laughing at Lewis wincing when you slid a bit into the gravel. “Yeah, I paid the price for that one.”

When the Max and Lewis collision popped up you winced. “That probably scared Max. I would've started crying.” you laughed at yourself with Lando and Lewis joining in. “Which is crazy considering you've crashed way worse than this.”

You refrained from remembering that.

You let out a sigh when it showed the clip of you crossing the line with Lando a car's length behind you. You both made eye contact then looked away. He was rightfully upset, and you knew it would be a while before he wasn't.

The highlights ended and you were gestured out of the room to start the podium celebrations.

It felt weird watching the men go before you and not you before them. ‘And winner Ace Giovanelli!

Your name was being chanted all around the podium and you couldn’t help the tears that escaped your eyes.

You waved at everyone around the podium seeing so many people wearing papaya with hints of gold meaning they were there for you specifically. You blew kisses to everyone you could shaking hands with Lewis and Lando before stepping up onto that top step. You took your hat off and listened to the Monaco National Anthem, you thought of Charles who was your best mate growing up and wondered if he was down there listening to his home anthem being played for his best friend.

After the British anthem played you were handed your first, First place trophy, and jokingly shielded it away from Lando as you both laughed. You ducked down as the medal was placed around your neck and thrusted the trophy into the air. You watched Lando get his and something just clicked in you. After Lewis finished celebrating you yelled out a ‘wait!’ sending everyone for a shock. You jumped down from the top step trophy in hand standing in front of Lando. He looked confused as you took the second place from his hands and gave it to the person standing next to the stage. ‘Go on.” He looked shocked. ‘Ace no.’

You knew he wouldn’t budge so you stood on his step and pushed him towards the top step as he stepped up. You handed him your first place trophy and saw the tears spring to his eyes. ‘It’s yours as much as it is mine.’ You saw him wipe a tear as Lewis started clapping for him and then you and then everyone else. ‘Lando, Lando, Lando!’ Was all you heard and you knew that THAT was the right thing to do.

He stepped down pulling you into a deep kiss. No words were needed. You took your positions back and took your picture. The first, but definitely not the last time that you would be in the middle. You ran to give your trophy to someone before you and Lando champagne popped together. You tried to spray both Lando and Lewis, but it was three against one.

Lando saw you wiping the champagne from your eyes, knowing the burn first hand. The smile on your face as you got showered in it was more than enough to rid him of all negative thoughts. The way your brown skin glowed in the sun beaming against the champagne made him fall in love with you all over again. He saw you turn towards him and spray a little champagne before kissing him again. His arms immediately wrapping around you, pulling you closer. You felt the pour of champagne over you both and giggled into the kiss. You looked back to see Lewis behind it all with a big smile on his face laughing and going to collect his stuff. ‘Come on winner.’ Lando joked, taking your hand to grab his trophy and yours.

“Let's hear from Lando now. This could be interesting.”

“Hey Lando. I know it's not easy giving up a win and I will never be in that position. But a great result for the team, tell me how you're feeling right now.”

“Yeah, happy. Happy for the team. I don't know when the last 1-2 last was,” he smiled cheekily, “probably over 10 years ago or something. Just super happy. I'm also happy for Ace too. Like your first race, I know she won in Qatar, and she’ll agree this win means a lot more. But this win is a proper win, it's a special moment and i'm happy for her. Not only as her boyfriend but as her teammate.”

“...but just personally how difficult was the design in that race, cause you just want to win?’

He smiled that cheeky smile while chuckling. “Yeah, uh, it's tough, but I know what Ace has done for me in the past. Yeah, I think this is a little bit different, but I got told to let her pass and I did.”

“Were you aware that Ace didn't want to pass when the team order was first called out?”

“Uh, no I was never informed of that. That-” but he left it there.

“The podium celebration seemed very happy but did you not feel any emotion on watching Ace wave at you as she passed?”

“Did she?” Lando questioned a little hurt but not fully believing. “Ace wouldn’t do that.”

‘I mean it’s what we all saw.’

‘I’ll have to ask her myself. She wouldn’t do that to anyone let alone her boyfriend.” He chuckled a bit wondering why they were trying to stir stuff up.

“Hey Ace, first win, under slightly awkward circumstances, but a race win nonetheless.”

You chuckled with your head tilting. “Yeah I'm super happy about winning, that's not something that will ever fade. You know between Lando and I we were the frontrunners. Me in the first half and Lando in the second, but I put myself where I needed to be in the beginning and it turned into a win. It was essentially an undercut, so the position swap seemed fair, but the circumstance under which the swap was done could have been handled better.”

You got jumped on by not one but 4 of your favourite people. You all started screaming knowing exactly what they were there for. The mic bare,y caught onto what was said,

“Race winner!” Pierre congratulated first. “Now you’re on my level.” Carlos teased. “You won Australia because everyone felt bad.” you teased back. “Whatever helps you sleep at night amiga.”

“Despite the shit race I had, this is the only thing that could make it better.” Max threw his arm around your shoulders and you laughed seeing the clip of him cursing at GP. “You owe GP an apology.”

“I don't owe him shit.”

“Moving on,” Charles cut in before scooping you into a hug you needed more than you thought. “je suis si fier de toi. Ecouter notre hymne m'a fait pleurer. Jules serait tellement fier de toi et serait là pour te serrer dans ses bras à ma place. Vous méritez tellement ça.”

You hugged him tighter. “Je t'aime tellement Charlie. Merci d'être toujours là pour moi.”

You let go of him and they all hugged you before leaving you, and you went back to your interview with repeated apologies.

“No worries, everyone wants a bit of the winner. You said earlier that you would listen to Lando’s team radio, have you done so yet?”

You smiled cheekily - much to similar to Landos- knowing where this was going. “I did yeah. I wont say much publically, for multiple reasons, but Lando had every right to say and do what he did, and i'll leave it there.”

‘We talked to Lando about you waving at him as passed him on the penultimate lap-

‘I didn’t wave at Lando. Let’s get that settled first, I put up half of a heart. It’s something we’ve been doing for a long time, so let’s not turn this loving moment into something it isn’t please.’

You walked in a bit late hearing Landos answer.

“...it's not my fault I was leading the race, you know. They should have boxed Ace first and we wouldn't even be having this discussion. So you know - um- it's not that, but I think we could've made slightly better decisions and I'm sure we'll talk about it later. At the same time, this girl here,” he looked at you with a sad smile. “Deserved to win. She got me off the line and yeah it's a very special feeling winning your first race- and i'll say first race ‘cause i think she’ll agree that it's a race win and not a sprint race. I'll let her enjoy it, and for the team it's an incredible weekend for all of us.”

You rested your head on his shoulder in gratitude before handing the hot cup of lemon and honey tea, as if it was nothing. “Let's move onto Ace. You've been dreaming of this since you were a little girl. You've won on your 35th race start, how was the view from the top step of the podium?”

“Yeah, it's an incredible feeling. Lots of monegasque flags, felt like a home race.” you chuckled briefly while adjusting your hat. “But yeah ever since I can remember i've been saying it was my dream to get to Formula 1 and then to make it to that top step on the podium. It's surreal and i'm glad it happened with my friends and boyfriend by my side.”

“How different does this feel from your sprint win in Qatar last year?”

“Very different. As Lando said, this is a proper race, and a sprint race isn't easy, but it's easier than a Sunday race. It's a win but nothing you can really brag about, unlike today.”

“Can we talk about strategy in this race? If you had boxed first then it would have been simpler.”

“Yeah, it was to cover certain people, Lando had Lewis and I had max. That's what the team had us do. I'm sure as a team we will talk about it later, i've got a few choice words I’d like to say but i'll leave it at that.”

Lando and Lewis both smiled at that comment before Lewis was answered his question. “I mean the number doesn't really matter. I'm just looking at how young they are. They were in nappies when I started.” he chuckled looking back at you and Lando. “Ace you were born in 2000-”

“2003, 20 years old.”

“Holy moly,” you both laughed, “yeah, just seeing how far McLaren has come as a team, but these two specifically. They had a really tough time last year, so seeing them up here now just makes me happy that I'm still here to witness it.”

As Lewis was getting asked questions you saw Lando picking at his fingers. You looked at his face and scooched closer to him. He immediately forced a smile as he looked at you and leaned into your chest as you wrapped your arms around each other.

“Question for Lando please. You said earlier that you weren't aware Ace didn't want to do the switch at first. If you had known that, do you think things would have changed?”

He left your side but stayed close. “I mean I argued it anyway didn’t I?” You joined into Landos chuckle. “I know what I'm going to do and what I'm not. I was going to do it on the very last lap on the last corner. I would have just kept going if i had known Ace didn’t want to but, I mean it is what it is. I was always going to give back the position, unless they changed their mind but they didn't and Ace didn’t seem to have any say in it either, so.” and he put his mic down.

“Another question for lando. Lando you said over the radio that you were fighting for the world championship, do you think the team made the wrong decision today? Especially with Ace right behind you now.”

You rolled your eyes as he picked up his mic. “Are you?,” he broke his sentence looking at you and you shrugged, you didn't think you had passed charles just yet. “But no, to answer the question. I mean, I didn't lose there, I lost the win off the line. You know i had a terrible-

“Lan”

“I had a bad start,” he looked at you knowing you were scolding him for downing himself way too extreme. “Something happened on my second shift, I lost a lot of momentum. Ace got in on the inside and that was that. So, i got put into the lead rather than ‘wanting to’, um i feel like we made things way too hard for ourselves and way too tricky for ourselves. Should have just boxed Ace first, and you know they gave me the lead, and I gave it back, so I shouldn't have won today. I didn't deserve to win because of my start and Ace’s good start and that's that. I don't feel like - i know i was in that position for 16-17 laps, its hard cause your in that position to give it back and i was thinking about those 7 points but truth is i shouldn't have been given the hope for those points and so the team were right and i stand by what they said.”

He put his mic and you picked yours up. “I mean it's all a bunch of hypotheticals, hypothetically, if I spun out in the gravel, landed upside down and snapped by neck. Lando would've won” you watched everyone's face turn. “Yeah see its bull. It's stupid to make it up. Lando deserved the win just as much as I did because his team strategy was better and his pace was better. If no one else is going to say it I will.”

You were known for being ‘mini max’ in interviews and conferences and you held that with pride.

You weren't asked a lot of questions, but you weren't surprised, the media loved drama and tried to get the most out of Lando.

“... i wouldn't expect Ace to let me pass just because i was fighting for a championship, i mean lets ask. Would you?” he chuckled quickly, turning back. “She drove better and you know that's it, It's just something we'll work on as a team.”

“I would by the way. I said this earlier but I wouldn't have been mad if Lando didn't give it up. You've got to be selfish and static- statistl- yeah i'm not doing this. You know what I mean." Everyone laughed. “But yeah he proved at the end that he was the faster and the better car so yeah. He also had a better chance at the world championship for not only him but the team, so who am i to hold him from that.”

You leaned back after that. Finally putting your true feelings out there.

“Final question and it's for Ace, you spoke about Jules at the end of the race, how much of an inspiration he was to you.”

Lando grabbed your hand as he knew this was sentimental. “Yeah um Jules died when i was 11 and i didn't fully understand then that he was um- not coming back.” you cleared your throat as the memories flooded back in. “It took a few days for me to understand that he wasn't just taking a trip and that it's hard for an 11 year old to lose the person that treated you as their own daughter. I just remember me and Charlie never leaving each other's sides. Which he probably hated having a little 11 year old attached to his arm.” you laughed at the thought. “He told me this week on the anniversary that he had planned to adopt me, and damn did that throw me off, but I wasn't named after him for no reason, so everything I do I owe to him.”

When you were dismissed you and Lando walked back quietly to the motor home. You were still digesting and you knew Lando was as well. “I'm sorry.” Were the first things he said as you went to your driver's room. “For absolutely nothing. You don't need to apologise. Ever. It happened. I got my first win which we are both more than proud of.” he nodded hastily at that. “Yeah the team made some shit calls, but we just have to roll with the punches. No one, and especially not me, is mad at you for feeling the way you do. I would be so much more visibly upset if I were in your shoes.”

You watched as he sunk in the words you said and nodded before opening his arms asking for a hug. “Come here baby.” you let him come into your arms as you swayed back and forth. “I love you so much Ace.”

“I love you Lando two-wins.”

“Two?”

“You won my heart, what more could you ask for.” you teased making him laugh.

“Yeah, that's the best win.”

mclaren posted!

liked by acegiovanelli, landonorris, and 5,000,000 others

mclaren P1 for our papaya princess and driver of the day!

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papayaa5army this being their most liked post is so real

landonorris congrats baby 🧡

acegiovanelli thank you admin… but im in your walls

↳ papayaspades girl😅

f1 posted

liked by acegiovanelli, maxverstappen1 and 546,789 others

f1 Ace Giovenalli has done it again. She makes history as the first woman to win a sprint race and a Sunday race. She also won driver of the day.

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acegiovanelli 🧡

↳ ln4life lando should’ve at least got driver of day

↳ acegiovanelli couldn’t agree more

↳ princesspapaya not her agreeing

landonorris love you baby

↳ acegiovanelli the true DOTD. je’taime mon ange

landonorris posted

liked by lewishamilton, acegiovanelli, and 858,694 others

landonorris P1 P2 yesterday, P1 P2 today. Congrats to the love of my life on her first win. Many more to come.

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acegiovanelli I love you mon cœur. Next one is yours I can feel it.

↳ landonorris 🧡

↳ papayaspades why is this giving quadrant crashing everyone out so Ria can win

↳ acegiovanelli 👀

acegiovanelli posted

liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 101,050,555 others

acegiovanelli I dreamed of this day every since Jules let me sit in his F1 car. Thank you to everyone who has supported me throughout my racing years. Thank you McLaren and above all thank you Lando, this is yours as much as it is mine. I love you all, see you in Spa!

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landonorris all you baby 🧡

zendaya congratulations girl! many more to come

charles_leclrec Jules serait tellement fier de toi. just like me❤️

beyonce congratulations gorgeous

badgalriri yesss! you did that

lewishamilton black girl magic

carlossainz55 so proud of you amiga

pierregasly congrats little sister 🧡

maxvertsappen1 looks like I have competition now

↳ landonorris rude

alexandrasaintmleux congrats wifey

francisca.cgomez my baby is growing up 🧡

kellypiquet P is jumping around for you 🧡

instagram most liked post… I think so

ace radio 🔊 thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed it, likes, comments, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

#lando norris x black!reader #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris x reader #f1 x driver!reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #hungarian gp 2024 #mclaren #ace writes

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faghubby · 6 months

Text

Future

"How did it go?" I asked. As Paul came home.

"Fine" he said quickly heading to the bedroom. I got up and followed him. I came up behind him and hugged him.

"We can talk about it" I assured him. I took the paperwork he was still holding from him. He just let me take it as I read down. I saw he scored a two out of ten. As I read the results. He was deemed not only small but because of his aptitude test he was fitted with the smallest cage.

"Paul this isn't that surprising" I told him hugging him again.

"But" he wimpered. "It means we can never"

"Baby, no it just means we can't have kids" I told him. He seemed a little better but not much. I read the self care page.

"It says you should keep yourself shaved to help prevent discomfort" my eyes lit up. "You're shaved?"

He blushed. I started to unbuckle his belt. I needed to see. He was shy but didn't stop me. I pulled down his pants and found pink underwear. I looked up surprised.

"They said they would help support the cage" he told me. They looked like boys briefs except pink and no slit to pee from. I tried not to laugh as I pulled them down to see the smallest chastity cage. I had seen the cage on the news as they had discussed the different levels but it was smaller then I had imagined. I touched it held him softly.

"Ahhh" he moaned.

"Sorry" I realized it was exciting him and stopped. I pulled his pants back up and left him to sulk at least for now.

The Matriarchal laws had passed. A month ago. All men where required to submit to a psychological and physical exam to gauge their role in society. Woman now controlled the government in great numbers. The congress of 100 members only three where male. And there where no male judges. This with a steep decline in pregnancies led to the passing of a series of laws. Allowing woman to find men that where fertile. But also strong and fit. Generically Alpha. It wasn't just size and strength but also intelligent, creative. There where levels of clarification. ALPHA, OMEGA, JACKS AND BETAS.

Paul had rated a 2 making him a low rated Beta. Always locked especially in public. It also allowed me to find men outside my marriage. The laws also relieved Paul of manly duties. He could not hold certain physical jobs. His right to vote was also limited. Along with home ownership, driving alone at night. Being out alone at night for that matter. I went back to the packet I had been reading when Paul came home. I added his evaluation to the paperwork. The paperwork allowed me to take control of all our assets. It even allowed me to change his name if I wished having him take my maiden name if I wished. There was also releases to allow me to be added to dating list for men that wished to help me cuckold my husband. There was a spot for Paul to sign but it wasn't required for him to sign since he scored under a 4.

I gave Paul a few hours then went to check on him. As I walked in he quickly turned off the TV. I walked over and took the remote and turned it back on. He was watching the new Submissive channel.

I sat down next to him on the bed. It was a educational how to show on pleasing your mistress.

"You didn't want me to see this?" I asked. He was embarrassed. I watched for a few minutes. They where talking about excepting his new role. And how to show her he excepted his role and was not a threat to her lovers. They talked about asking her to wear panties, or even to peg his ass.

"How do you feel about this?" I asked

"Trish I understand that" he tried but stopped. "Are you going to take a lover?"

"I haven't decided. How do you feel about it?" I asked him.

"I don't think I, I don't know?" He mumbled.

"You can't call me Trish in public, I think you should call me Ms Trish even at home so you get used to it" I suggested he almost seemed relieved I wasn't going to demand Mistress or something.

"I like you to sign the release before I send them" I told him as I ran my hand thru his hair. I smiled at the commercials on the tv. Even they where directed towards male submissiveness. As I smiled at a salon offering discount on full body hair removal. I suddenly had him lean forward and removed his shirt.

"Take off your pants" I told him. I stood and did as I said

"Leave your boi panties" I giggled, he frowned. I pulled him into bed.

"Lay still" I told him. I teased his nipples.

"Tell me what you rate on an arousal scale q being don't like and 10 being don't stop. I kissed his neck and nibbled on his ear. He moaned and wiggled trying to stay still.

"6 ohh 8" he moaned. I worked my way down teasing his nipples. Again he moaned and bucked his hips in the air. "8" again he moaned.

I moved down getting 4 on his tummy. But when I cupped his balls his dick was leaking precum from his cage. I licked and put his cage in my mouth then each of his balls one at a time.

"Please unlock me" he moaned

"I don't have the key yet" I told him. He just moaned as I continued to tease his inner thighs. He spread his legs further. So I took it as a invite and licked his asshole. I thought he would explode, I didn't like it but quickly replaced it with my fingers. I grabbed some Vaseline from my makeup table and worked my finger into his ass. Without a word he pulled his legs to his chest. Giving me total access to his ass. I soon had two then three fingers in his ass. I was absolutely amazed how much he loved this. We had never done anal play before. But Paul was in heaven his cage leaking as he moaned. After a few minutes I stopped and got up and washed my hands. When I returned Paul laid there his pink underwear pulled down alittle just as I had left them.

"I don't want to heat another moan or complaint. No more sulking. It is obvious that you are exactly what the doctors determined." I walked over to my dresser and pulled out a pair of my panties.

"Wear these you got yours all dirty" I told him. Then get dressed we are going shopping. He didn't grumble. He didn't say a word just did exactly as I instructed. I drove to one of the nicer department stores. He got out of the car and I had to double step to catch him. I held his hand.

"You will wait for me. I may even decide you will wait till I open your door for you. Is that understood" I stressed.

"Yes, Ms Trish." He replied lowering his head. As soon as we walked in we were greater by a saleswoman.

"Good afternoon" she said to me quickly glancing at Paul. "We have a new department set up right over here, for our new Femine men" she offered.

"Really, perfect just what we came in for" the woman just smiled as I led Paul. The whole section of the store was bathed in pink. I was greeted by a man dressed almost completely in pink as well.

"Good afternoon Madem. My name is Jackie if I can help you with anything please ask." He said.

"Yes we are looking for panties for my husband." I said

"Of course, would you like him to wear any particular style" Jackie asked as he led us to a table. "These have extra room in the front" he started.

"We don't need that" I laughed looking at Paul who was over welmed by all this. "These are more humiliation" he pointed out panties that had sayings like girlie boi or fuck my wife for me. On them.

I saw the cutest little yellow thong.

"OH I like these" I giggled showing Paul.

"He looks to be a size 9" Jackie commented but he can try them on right over there. He then handed me a condom.

"So he doesn't leak in them" Jackie informed me. I just smiled. It was encouraged that I went into the changing room with him. Even a comfy chair for me to sit in was provided.

"Trish" Paul begged as I told him to try them on.

"You want me to play with your ass again?" I wispered in his ear. He stripped and slid on the thong. Pulled and poked checking how they fit having him turn.

"What do you think?" I asked Paul.

"I fell like I got a wedgie" he commented.

"Good" I smiled. I let him get dressed. He carried the thong around the store. I added a few more. Then I saw a tee shirt. Registered 2 is all it said.

"Which color?" I asked Paul their was. A pink, baby blue, and a high visibility yellow in his size.

"Blue?" He said softly. I looked him in the eye.

"How about pink?" I suggested he just nodded and took it from me. There where skirts and dresses. Lots of sizes to feminized your man. I pointed things out and gaged Paul's reactions. As we approached the register there was a long glass case full of sex toys. I stopped and asked to see several dildos the saleswoman was knowledgeable and showed me lots of features. I bought a harness and two dildos along with a wand to hold against the cage. Paul was beet red as we checked out. I held his hand as we walked across the parking lit again. As soon as we got home i had Paul sign the paperwork and sent it in to the new office of submissive men. I took Paul back into the bedroom this time I stripped and laid on the bed.

"Use your tounge make me cum" I told him. Paul did as asked. I felt impowered and gave him instructions he was good at eating pussy. But there was always things he did that did nothing for me. Or things I wish he did more. He listened well. And made me cum twice.

My sister keri stopped by after dinner. I think she was curious how Paul had rated.

"He is a 2" I told her.

"Really" she said excited "what are you going to do? Have ypu scene the sissy school?" She rambled on

"Sissy school?" I stopped her.

"Yes they will teach him to be a housewife for you" she laughed.

"And Brian?" I asked about her husband

"6" she was almost disappointed. As a six nothing changed in there marriage at all.

after Keri left I found Paul he was hiding in the bedroom. Again I caught him watching submissive TV again. I noticed a wet spot thru his jeans.

"Paul, you want all of this don't you?" I asked him. He tried to deny it at first.

"I hate the cage but" he stated

"You love the panties and my fingers in your ass" I stated he nodded. I fucked his ass again this time using one of the dildos we had bought.

Then had him shower and dress in my satin pajamas they fit him tightly and looked like he wore capris.

the next day I signed him up for sissy school but also a sissy spa day. They would remove all his body hair. A mani/pedi. And style his hair.

He spent 5 hours a day at school they taught him how to cook and clean. Also tips on pleasing thier wives. Paul was only 1 of 3. Class 2 in school most where 3 and 4. So he was given special instruction in nail care. Hair style, even make up. And walking in heels. I was given daily updates. I paid for Paul to have permanent body hair removal. Paul excepted his role immediately. I also found it so exciting. Fucking his ass every night for the first two weeks.

Paul started receiving what became called the sissy check from the government every month. That plus receiving a promotion at work after my boss was demoted after being classified as a 4. So unable to be more then a personal assistant. I had taken Paul shopping again this time he wanted to try everything. We left with a whole new wardrobe. He would spend most of his time in a dress or skirt. I laughed. And had more sexy panties then I had.

I went to a cuckold mixer, where I met a Darren a tall black alpha male. He didn't ask he took me to a back room and bent me over. He drove his huge thick 10 inch cock deep in my pussy. He took me used me it was such a release. Paul had never even tried to act like Darren did. He pumped his seed into me. There was so much it ran down my leg as he walked me to my car. He picked me uo to kiss me goodbye. But I wanted more. When he put me down I dropped to my knees and right there in the parking lot I pulled his cock back out and slobbered all over it. I could only take maybe a third of his magnificent cock in my mouth. People walked by but I didn't care. Darren finally came feeding me his cum. I swallowed every drop. Before I left giving him my number.

Paul was still up waiting for me dressed in sexy blue lace lingerie.

"I met someone" I told him. He was aware what type of party I had gone to. "I know you have heard about how sissy clean up" I said. He swallowed hard turning a bit pale. "Would you like to try?" I asked. I laid on the bed and lifted my skirt. Paul looked at my cum soaked panties. I led his head down.

"Try it" I said softly first he kissed me thru the panties then got a little braver. Eventually he pulled my panties off and sucked Darren's cum out of me. I started to teach Paul how to suck cock. By making him suck my strapon before I took his ass. Which now was once a week sometimes twice if he was extra good. I met Darren a few more times. Before he moved on.

It had been months since Paul had been locked. And he had only asked that first day to take it off. I had only used the key a handful of times when I had his body hair removed.

I realized we didn't even get many stares anymore since a femine male was not as rare as one would think. Paul's biggest concern was if I was getting enough attention from real men.

I found Pete thru a dating app. He was very interested in a couple. He loved that I had a cuckold. One night I had him spend the night. And in the morning let Paul suck his cock for him. Paul was able to take all 8 inches down his throat and swallowed all his cum. I was so proud.

Later on I allowed Paul to give Pete a massage. Paul's penis leaked the whole time. I then fucked him with my strapon in front Pete. Paul lecked his sissy juice all over himself. Paul even moved out of our room one day giving his spot in the bed up to Pete for good.

When Pete found out he went to Paul's new room. And bent him over the bed. He fucked Paul with force holding his head down. Paul was so turned on he came twice out of cage. As he thanked Pete.

Pete took control of Paul. Now Pauline. The name change was only the start. Pete ran a tight ship. If Pauline didn't do something or did it not the way Pete liked it done though. Pete would pull down his panties and spank him. Or stand in the corner. Even having him suck his friend Larry's cock when he came over to watch the game.

He also liked Pauline to dress very slutty, or even spend the day in just panties and a bra for the day.

Pete also took a firm hand with me at least in the bedroom. sex was wonderful. When I got pregnant. I don't know who was more excited Paul or Pete. Pauline swore to care for the child. He was always there when I got morning sickness, or needed my feet rubbed. Or sucked Pete's cock when I was to far along or just not in the mood.

When our daughter was born I didn't change more then a dozen diapers and Pete not a single one. Pauline got up in the middle of the night. Aunt Pauline was decided he would be called.

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womaninwinter · 2 months

Note

Dynamic equivalence cause I don’t know what that one is and then alt fic cause I’m guessing that’s The Intruder :)

Dynamic equivalence: gave a description here, but basically it originated from a joke between myself and @hailqiqi about hyper-specific job AUs. As we're translators, I suggested a fic where Lockwood and Lucy both work in the translation industry (he's the owner of a small translation start-up, she's a freelancer he works with often, George is his snarky reviewer who initially pisses Lucy off for giving her work low quality scores for dumb things like using straight apostrophes instead of curly ones). The title comes from a particular translation theory (I can't remember what it actually means because it's like 8 years since I was in uni). Also, I have now come up with a new and terrible addition to this AU: Skull is an AI assistant that George pirated from his old workplace, Fittes Multilingual, and has caused it to develop an attitude problem through his tinkering. Lucy finds interacting with it surprisingly enjoyable.

alt fic: you guessed it, that's The Intruder. I reeeeeally want to get back to it so bad, ugh!! I have already sent you a lot of what I have pre-written for this fic in snippet form, but have some alt!Quill angst:

Fittes agents dropped like flies that winter: Ned Shaw was the first to go, and for all that he was a git, Quill missed him. He’d been reliable, in his own thuggish way, and too stupid to be scared easily. Without him, Quill’s team began to lose heart and with it, their cohesion. And, as Quill had often observed himself, it was remarkable how quickly a disjointed team became an unlucky team. Within a couple of weeks of Ned’s death, Bobby got ghost-touched by a thick and sickly cloud they’d mistaken for an ordinary London pea-souper, and Kat plunged off a balcony in a posh hotel soon after that, fatally disoriented by the screaming of a Cold Maiden.

#fic talk #lockwood & co #ask games

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forjustice · 3 months

Text

[Johto Moon Festival '24] BEWARE THE CONTEST SNOB

"Well, well, well..." Wallace puts a hand to his chin as he watches the Moon Maiden performances with a critical eye. His most toxic trait: he holds every Coordinator to the highest possible professional standard, like he's never heard of people just doing it for fun. "This Moon Maiden competition has many more contestants than last year, but more isn't always merrier~"

And there he goes, spouting off his opinions on the shows to literally anyone who'll listen.

@dandieliongirl

"First up, we have Anzu. Not a Coordinator by profession, and I can certainly tell. It was lovely enough to look at, I suppose, and she does have a good singing voice. But are twirling and throwing flowers everywhere really her only two skills? She says she wants to spread her wings and fly...She should stay on the ground first and add some more complexity to her technique. Perhaps there's a glimmer of potential in that Cubone of hers, but that performance was too much of a novice one to really tell."

@vixletserenity

"I've met Celeste before. I helped her get a Cosmog. She may prove a Trainer worthy of the Solgaleo or Lunala it evolves into...but she certainly won't get there with her Coordinating work. She makes the same mistake as Anzu does, thinking her voice can carry the performance--and the sparse move use certainly isn't enough to make up for the fact there isn't much else to comment on. I will say this, though. Her grasp on the use of Water- and Fairy-types is quite decent, all things considered. If she wanted a Coordinating career I wouldn't say she's doomed, but she certainly has a long way to go."

@oathofmoonlight

"Kaguya's? Oh, please, girl! Everyone else at least tried to have a moon theme! Unlike some others she seemed to actually be an expert in the skill she was performing, which I definitely do appreciate. But I take exceptional issue with the fact she's vying to be a Moon Maiden and yet the only phase of moon she seems to perform with is the new one. Besides, after a while of watching it, all her moves started to blur together to the point I can't even remember them--and it wasn't even long enough that most people would think details blurred together to begin with. Let this be a lesson to everyone: It's one thing to be an expert in something. It's another to do it expertly on stage."

@gruusha

"So, the thing about Grusha is, I owe them a big, big favor. I owe them a trip to the biggest, best Pride celebration in town--and with the end of Pride Month coming up, I need to do it fast. Maybe I was too late, though, because if they'd been to even one--one--drag show they'd come away with insights into the art of performing that they oh so desperately needed. It is admirable of them to do such a graceful dance in spite of previous injuries--I say that without reservation. But my one big question is: Where's the Pokémon? I suppose the main focus of a Moon Maiden Appeal should be the actual maiden, but to me, keeping the Pokémon completely hidden just screams a lack of imagination on how to use it.

"....Don't tell them I said this, by the way. How can I drag them to Pride if they know I've been gossiping about them?"

@forjustice [yes I'm tearing apart mine as well it's only fair heh]

"Look. I normally don't like questioning performances with deep personal significance. But we're talking about Volo of all people--are we sure she isn't just guilt-tripping us into giving her the prize? You'd hardly believe that she's one of the few Coordinators who's ever gotten a perfect score across the board when you see her make such a hugely glaring rookie mistake: She barely even does anything up until the middle part, and after the dance there most of the rest is just singing--which doesn't help my feeling that she was riding on the audience's sentiments to win. On top of that, I know these performances have to be short, but can we talk about the pacing--they go from strangers to honored guests to friends to family in the span of, like, what, three minutes? Maybe this wasn't the place for expressing such a story. Or the place to try and win the popular vote just by making everyone feel sorry for you outside the context of your performance--not that there even is a place for that, really. But you don't have to take my word for it. I'm just one person who as a religious figure is intimately familiar with the mythology and scripture surrounding this particular individual, and this is just my personal opinion."

#greatness upon greatness in the flow of the tides. || wallace #johtomoonfest2024 #dandieliongirl #vixletserenity #oathofmoonlight #gruusha #all these were done with the permission of the muns #if anyone wants me to change theirs please let me know #and if anyone else wants theirs roasted please let me know as well >:3

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sarahshot1st · 1 year

Text

"I hate you!" Raven screamed, hurling a bowling ball at the infuriating firebrand.

"Aw, you know you love me," Cinder cooed, easily dodging the projectile on jets of flame.

"I. Do. NOT!"

The Branwen chieftess punctuated the statement by slamming her fist into the rack, causing a half-dozen heavy ceramic balls to flick up into the air. A few quick strikes of her sword - drawn in the blink of an eye - left the spheres cloven in half, making them more susceptible to the gust of wind she summoned with her Maiden powers.

Cinder laughed, turning aside the attacks with bursts of superheated air. She danced around in the air, playful, inviting, and Raven rose to meet her.

"Next time I see your daughter, I'll tell her you're alive and well - just as much the selfish prick she remembers."

Raven felt an uncontrollable spike of anger flash through her. The power burning from her eyes flared to life as she growled:

"You stay away from Yang, you bitch."

"Oh but of course, that's how you raise a child, isn't it? By ignoring them?"

Raven screamed, an incoherent howl of rage. She dashed forward, swinging Omen in a brutal arc that could have easily decapitated three ordinary foes - but Cinder was no ordinary foe. Her own blade formed in her hands as she raised them to intercept the attack, and there was an explosion of sparks as the two weapons met.

What followed was a devastating series of blows, faster than the eye could track. Raven cycled through each of Omen's dust cartridges, attacking with Ice, Gravity, Lightning, and Hard-Light in an attempt to keep her opponent off-guard. Cinder, however, was familiar by now with the unique properties of Raven's blade, and adapted her own weapons each time to counter Raven's attacks. Eventually the chieftess settled on Fire, her blade burning with a wicked glow that matched Cinder's own. The exchange ended with their swords crossed, each struggling to overpower the other.

The pyromaniac grinned wickedly. "You can pretend you hate me all you want, Raven - but the portal you used to come here tells the truth. You can only bond them to people you have a strong emotional connection to - isn't that right?"

"I find hatred to be the strongest emotion of them all," Raven spat. "I keep one on Qrow so I can keep track of his bullshit."

"Well, if you ever decide to do something about that bothersome brother of yours, hit me up, will you? I've got a score to settle with that drunkard too."

Raven pulled back, huffing condescendingly. "You know what? Fine. That's actually the most reasonable suggestion you've made all night."

Cinder smirked. "We'll call it a date then."

Raven's face contorted into a snarl. "Fuck. YOU."

"Fuck me yourself."

"RAAAAAAAARRRGGHHHHHHHH-"

***

"So how'd the date go?" Vernal asked innocently.

Raven strolled out of the portal, not even sparing her lieutenant a second glance. "Shut it, Vernal."

"Yes ma'am." She didn't even try to hide her smile.

***

"You know, I don't know what you see in that woman," Watts said, voice laced with ridicule.

Cinder smiled. "I think she likes me."

"Oh please," the lanky man scoffed, not even bothering to turn from the ensemble of Scrolls he had laid out in front of him. "Every time the two of you meet, you inevitably end up holding swords to each other's throat. That is hardly what I'd call a romantic display of affection."

"And that just shows how little you know of romance. Swordplay has always been considered a suitable form of foreplay - or have you forgotten how our Mistress and her lover courted?"

Watts sniffed. "I'd hardly call theirs a model for a healthy relationship."

"And what would you know of relationships?" Cinder asked, waving a dismissive hand as she strolled through Evernight Castle. "You can't ever be bothered to become entangled with someone - always so busy with your toys. Face it, Watts." She paused, eyeing the back of Watts' always-impeccable suit. "You're a sigma."

"Just because I prioritize our Lady's goals over my own pursuits doesn't make me a 'sigma,' as you so crassly put it." The mustachioed man finally spun around in his chair to face Cinder directly. "My work is more important than any simple 'fling'."

"I see. Well then, I suppose there's no need to tell you I received an update from Tyrian this morning."

"What? Where is he? How is he doing? Is he all right?" The questions tumbled out of Watts' mouth faster than Cinder could answer, and he stood so quickly that his chair nearly toppled over.

Cinder smiled. "Deranged, psychotic, and nihilistic - in other words, Tyrian's doing just fine."

Cinder's tone was knowing, and Watts actually had the decency to blush. "Yes, well, that is very good. I worry about him when he's out on his own, given his penchant for self-inflicted pain. Do make sure he doesn't hurt himself."

"I'll be sure to tell him you asked after him."

#hellbirds #rwby fic #ficlet #short ficlet #raven branwen #cinder fall #arthur watts #nuts and volts

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aicosu · 1 year

Note

18 👀

"You look lost." Eddie whips around the blackened alley, but sees no one, nothing. Nothing but slick oil-stained asphalt and busted-up chipper vending machines. "I can help you." He turns again, hearing a flicker in the voice that sounds just like the buzz of the fluorescent kiosk behind him and—oh god dammit, it is the kiosk. "Buzz off!" He waves his hands at the pink advertisement, pulsing hearts and sales at him.

The digital face of a blonde blue-eyed baby girl crumples, her lips pouting and brows furrowing to imitate some emotion. Nervous. Scared. The BIG BLOWOUT lettering disappears around her head and the advertisement zooms out to show her crossing her arms on her electric cloud. "I-I just wanted to—!"

"I'm not buying whatever you're selling, soda girl. And I know your scam! You're not getting my ID Data by making me talk so you can use corporate tactics and native—" "You did that yourself Eddie Munson of the 429-70 sector—" "Hey!" He rushes as the kiosk and other parts of it light up from proximity. She twists into a bigger frame and leans over to pop images up between her fingers. "—and I'm not interested in selling you a GIBSON 340 Flyer series BLACK or the 76th edition of Dueling Dragon—" "Knock it off!" He bangs knuckles on her pixels, poofing his most recent engine searches into square dust. She laughs. It bubbles into audio pops from a speaker that had long been blown at. Stars rotate in her cartoon-like eyes. "I just want to help, you look like you haven't been to the pink district before."

Pink district. Eddie twists on his boots, eyes roaming over the tops of the building he's been wandering between, trying to see the neon grid of the city's artificial sky for traces of the color that denotes each zone. He thinks through the smog he can see it. Pink.

He returns to the kiosk, watching the rotating words start their default script above her head. INTIMATE MOMENTS. GET TO KNOW ME! 5KEY SENSATION! FLASH INPUT FOR CUSTOM FANTASIE— She's a Playtime Prostitute. "I don't—I'm n-not here for—your services are not required!" He claws fingers at her, feeling attacked from all sides by his new location ping and her chest when she giggles. "I do have a module for Knights and Maidens—!" "S-Stop! D-don't fucking read my order history, it's rude." "Sorry!" she says, but she's grinning, floating up to cross her legs on a heart that pulses beneath her. "Can't help my code." "Am I past 34th and Adven?" "By two blocks!" She flashes into a new pose, dipping past one frame to the protruding sign so she can point past where he came from. "You're closer to the VR Domes now." "Fuck." "Where are you looking to—" She turns up at him and from this angle, the scanner must be close enough, because her eyes barcode over when they snag his badge. "Ohhhhhh! A Repo-man!" Eddie slaps his hand over the metal bracket on his jacket but it's too late. "How can I help you officer?" she coos, wiggling her hips with stars in her eyes again. "Oh, don't. Cancel Authority Service program. I don't like working with ai's anyway, you all track my target's credit scores and sell them loans at interest." "I'm a sex doll," she deadpans, floating to a high frame where it crops to just those entrancing eyes, that little nose, and those gussed up lips/ Perfected down to the algorithm. For a busted-up kiosk, she looks... really good. And the lack of interaction in the back of an alley didn't seem to fry her function. At least not yet. "I can't track anything, I'm not allowed." "Not legally." Eddie swallows. "But all you things are just dirty little car dealers." She blinks. Smiles. Shy. Or maybe sly. The colors of the kiosk coordinate a hot red and flash her through different outfits. A translucent street set, those new dance bandages, and then something super old world—denim shorts and a bathing suit top with sneakers. She sits crossed-legged and starts playing with the ties on her shoulders. She's got him, the entire thing is working as intended, using all its collected data to sell him something customized. Something from his collected magazines and website cookies. And he's a fucking idiot because he knows it but doesn't stop her. "I just wanted to help you. You know I have to be wired to the grid for theft." She has a GPS tracker. He didn't even think of that. Can't think of anything when her top falls off but emojis censor her with animated DnD dice and guitars. The red drips away to pink. She starts laughing. Eddie grasps his face with both hands to hide. Is he really gonna get hard and jerk one out in front of an old commercial in the back of some alley? Really?

"Can you just tell me where the Syranx Warehouse is? Huh? Or is lying part of the scam here?" "What part are you collecting from the poor guy? Not his little rod?" she asks, biting her nail and winking. Eddie groans, and checks his work watch, tapping through the data to yank up his mark's collection ticket. A hologram of a V-model leg prosthesis rotates between them on his wrist. "His leg! How cruel! How will he walk?" Eddie shakes his head. "Look, what do you want from me? He shoulda paid his monthly." "How scary you are, Eddie Munson." She twists a finger in her hair. "Hope you don't... come for me one day." "I don't come for ai—oh." He cringes, realizing her sexual innuendo too late into her roar of giggles. "I can change that!" she declares and twists into a new frame—transformed into a cheerleader outfit. "STOP!" Eddie bangs on the fiberglass. She ripples pixels, falling over laughing, pleated skirt perfectly peeking underwear. "That's a low blow you pop-up witch!" "Encrypt your life then!" she teases. It's a good point, but an expensive one. "Just give me directions!" "Promise to come back!" Eddie inhales. It's not contractual. It's authentic programming. Nothing digital can hold you to anything unless biometrics are involved. No this is just her, using years of being turned on to collect and create her own machine learning for targeting and manipulating people. Or, rather—she's being cute. "S-s-sure." It's all he can manage. Because apparently now he's a company shill. She claps her hands and a scanner code pops up. "Maps for the scary Repo-man!" He flashes his watch over it and watches in horror as pink hearts burst and pop from his digital screen. "Don't infect me, okay? I trusted—" But he stops when a map appears and a cute little cartoon icon of her points at a dot with a simple flashing. YOU ARE HERE! He looks back up at her, where she's laid back down in her original posting with the BLOWOUT SALE next to—oh, that makes a lot more sense now. "T-thanks." He scratches his head, grateful but ashamed. She waves fingers at him coyly. "Listen uh—Uhm. What's your... make and...uh model? You know for... I'll do the survey or whatever—" "I'm Chrissy." She winks, flashing open the tag with her company and link. "Thanks, Chrissy." "Come back soon!" He very much will not be. He'd avoided the Pink District for this very fucking reason. Well, not this reason in particular but this can definitely be added to the top of the list. But he knows that the scan was already logged. That his eye implant recorded the whole interaction. That her link in his memory was fucking... clickable.

God dammit.

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howlingday · 1 year

Text

Can you do the King of the Hill Junichiro and Cotton reunion scene too please?

---------------------------------------------------

"Dad? Dad, can you put Zwei on the scroll?" Ruby asked as she waited for her father to honor her request. She was greeted with familiar panting. "Zwei!" She covered her mouth and whispered. "I can't talk long, but I'm in Mantle. It's so cold here, I bet you'd love it. We're meeting Weiss' half-sister and I wish you were here to meet her." Ruby sniffled. "I miss you so much. I love you!"

As she hung up, she heard her father groan in disgust. She never sobbed like this when she called him.

"Do you think this armor is too much?" Jaune asked as Ruby returned. "Or maybe I should wear more?"

"Look, kid," Qrow said, "love doesn't care what you look like, or if you're still a work in progress."

"Uncle Qrow, did you meet someone?" Yang teased. When she was met by a smiley nod, she chuckled. "Hey! Good for you! See if you can score some free stuff for us."

"Yang!" Ruby chided.

"Hush!" Weiss scolded, before turning her attention to the doors opening to reveal a bulbously large man with jowls like a bulldog, followed by a sickly woman helped inside by a girl who looked almost exactly like Weiss!

"Good evening, Kuche." Jacques greeted, kissing the woman's hand.

"Hello, Jacques." She replied sweetly, as though he hadn't abandoned her for nearly twenty years. "I'm glasd to see you're still boasting such a proud and virile mustache." With help from the girl, she seated herself next to him. How have you been?"

"Well, it has been a productive time in my life. Since returning to Willow, I have been getting back into Big Nicholas' good graces..."

As he boasted, the girl seated at the far end of the table, next to Weiss. The two silently nodded before the coal-haired maiden reached for the liquor and began drinking straight from the bottle. All the while glaring at the man on the far end.

"...and since then, I have balancing home and work, as CEO of the Schnee Dust Company and as a father to Winter, Weiss, and Whitley." He smiled. "And how have you been, Kuchi?"

"Thank you for asking." She replied with a shiver. "Since you left, I have been working as a service woman to support my daughter- excuse me, our daughter, Bliss." Jacques grinned at the girl, but was only replied with the same cold, red-eyed glare. She was halfway through her bottle. "Since then, I have been eating what I could since the sickness makes it difficult to do much, especially when everyone I thought I could trust abandoned me to raise our child. Then, I found a man who was willing to accept me as his wife, my dearest Koomers Peck." She gestured to the mountainous man already three bowls into his meal.

"I... I'm Weiss Schnee, second daughter to Jacques and Willow Schnee. I'm a huntress. And what work do you do?"

"I'm Bleiss Gelé, and I work three shifts as a housemaid to cover for my dying mother and her fatass scumbag of a husband." She took one final swig.

"I... see..."

"Oh, I'm sorry, Weiss." Bleiss slammed the empty bottle down. "Was my reaction to our disgusting shared sperm donor too harsh for your high class huntress world?" Her glare fixed on Jacques. "You finally feel guilty after nineteen years of high society and sucking on Big Dickless' tiny chode and think paying for one fancy dinner is enough to make me forgive you? To make me think of you as my father?! Fuck you! That walking human smegma is only a fucking inch more of a man than you ever will be! Even if it means I would never have been born, I wish my mother had never met you!"

"Well... You certainly have that Schnee fire in you." Jacques mused.

"Bliss, please!" Her mother pleaded.

"My name is Bleiss, and I refuse to be a Schnee!" She threw the empty bottle. "I HAVE NO FATHER!"

As the bottle shattered behind Jacques, the tension built to an unbearable weight for everyone, save Kummers, who continued to eat half of the table's servings.

"I... will see that this is cleaned up." Jacques stood and swiftly left the table.

"Um..." Weiss cleared her throat. "I'm... I'm sorry for what my father did to you, but-"

"Shut. The fuck. Up." Anger and fury were now cast on Weiss. "Listen to me, you flat-chested, no ass having, uppity femcel cunt. I. AM NOT. YOUR SISTER. If you were on fire, I wouldn't piss on you to put you out."

Weiss could only gulp at the harsh words.

#rwby #my submissions #king of the hill #ruby rose #jaune arc #qrow branwen #yang xiao long #weiss schnee #jacques schnee #bleiss schnee

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tenderloviingcare · 10 days

Text

dolori su dolori

7:30 A.M.

Morning breaks as gray as ever, like countless Alaska mornings before, and Leonardo lays on his stomach in bed, sheet and quilt around his waist, as he sighs about another day—another year—being alive. Cloe, the tortoiseshell of his trio of long-haired siblings, notices he's awake and begins making biscuits on his rear end. Her claws piercing through two covers, his pajama bottoms, and his boxers is more than enough reminder to give her a mani-pedi soon.

He lays there a while longer, as always finding it difficult to muster up the energy to move. It isn't as though he's regular tired, no; it's the exhaustion that sits as deep as the marrow in his very bones, the type that makes his entire existence feel heavy, the type that makes him wish he could wither and dissolve and be swept away by the wind.

He's never outright contemplated suicide. It's simply been smoldering inside of him from an age entirely too young: he shouldn't exist, and he sure as hell doesn't want to. The will to live has been running on fumes, so to speak, for longer than he can remember.

The physician closes his eyes again briefly, exhaling every bit of air that's inside of his lungs. If he died in his sleep, and his cats had begun to eat him, the people to notice would just be his workplace, he's convinced of it.

And that right there is what keeps him going. His chest aches at the idea of leaving his cats behind, and making them distressed. And even though there are other pediatricians who can care for his patients, they're the other light of his life. He doesn't want them wondering where Dr. Leo went.

With waning resolve, he maneuvers to sit up, the covers falling back and exposing his arms to the cool air of his bedroom. He rubs the inked skin to warm it back up, but he can't help but to allow his fingertips to linger over the scars on his right arm, right through the name tattooed there. Cirrincione, it had said in thick cursive script, his grandmother's maiden name and the middle name he had chosen for himself upon her passing, replacing the ridiculous multi-parted middle name he'd been so graciously gifted upon his birth. Now, scars from the attack in the morgue score through the name; they've healed mostly, leaving behind pinkish scarring in his tanned skin.

Sparrow, the name means, from Sicilian cirrinciò, to go with the black and gray birds etched into his other arm. The poetic irony isn't lost on him: he is untethered and alone, free like a bird in theory, but caged by his very own sorrow.

The first order of business when he drags himself out of his warm, cozy bed is to change into his running clothes, shorts, a t-shirt, and a jacket—hardly anyone knows about the tattoos on his arms and chest, due to his typical manner of dress, and he likes to keep them his personal secret. In the kitchen, he takes his normal pills that help him produce an inkling of serotonin, with a full glass of water. Like any good, seasoned runner, he stretches fully, then fills a bottle with water and puts his shoes on. He grabs his keys but leaves his cell phone behind, locking the door before he takes off outside.

It's chilly, only in the mid-40s, but he's run in worse conditions. The goosebumps that cover his skin don't bother him, he'll soon be plenty warm. He takes off on his usual run through Delilah's Den, taking in the typical peace of an early Sunday morning. He's liked living here the past few years; it's picturesque, and safe—up until a few weeks ago, when that blasted Doppelganger head showed up on his back patio.

His pace quickens when he reminds himself of it, of being accidentally entangled in Annisa’s affairs, whatever those affairs are. He certainly wasn't supposed to get involved: he’s a footnote in everyone's lives, a nameless extra, an ineffectual side character, not important enough to be worth any trouble, someone worth forgetting in every sense. He had only fought so hard and defended himself so he could ensure Annisa’s safety. So why does he continue to be involved? By no means is he worth the trouble of tracking down, nothing remotely interesting about him, the only secrets he holds to his chest involving his parentage.

When pain surges in his jaw, he realizes he needs to unclench it. Being neglected by his birth giver from the moment of conception is surely the source of many of his problems now. Unimportant, unwanted, unloved, burdensome, unwanted, unloved!!! Years after their passing, he still feels guilt over his grandparents having to sell the deli that had been in Nonna’s family for a few generations because they had felt responsible to clean up their only living child’s actions. Because of Leonardo’s very existence, his grandparents had had to get rid of the beloved family business and move continents to somewhere they didn't even speak the language, and build life from the ground up. And later they would each die thousands of miles away from their homeland, sooner than they should have with no thanks to the excessively expensive American healthcare system.

All because Leonardo had to go and exist.

Tears sting his eyes and roll down his cheeks, but he keeps moving. For some godforsaken reason, he keeps moving.

He returns home around an hour later, cheeks red with exertion, sweat shining on his forehead. When he strips down in the bathroom, he faces away from the mirror, not wanting to hazard a look at his own body or face. When he's in the shower and the water hits his skin, the tears return, shaking his shoulders. He likes to run to force himself to feel something other than numbness or anxiety, but now he's gone and induced anger in himself—anger at himself for just being alive. His head leans back and the water from the shower head mixes with the tears on his face, and he just stands like that for entirely too long.

When the emotional numbness returns, he autopilots through washing himself, still feeling robotic when he shuts the water off and grabs his towel. The mirror is now fogged up, so he can't look at himself again, though unfortunately he falls prey to the mirror on the dresser in his bedroom.

Skin and bones, no matter how much he feeds himself—he’s always had a big appetite and eats mostly an Italian diet he cooks for himself—and dark curls of body hair splashed over him, he's never imagined anyone ever wanting to see him in this state, undressed and defenseless. He's incapable of seeing anything attractive in his own face or personality, so why would they ever want him so bare? And even then, they would probably be sorely disappointed by the sight. He's simply just some thin, tall man with too many bones jutting out. The words inked into his chest under the dark fur there are slashed similarly to the name on his right arm—per sempre e sempre nel mio cuore, written in thick cursive, but destroyed by healing scars.

And then, his face. He's never been fond of his features: the strong, bumpy nose; the wide lips permanently set into a scowl he doesn't want; dark, thick brows that give him an intimidating glare; and permanent bags under his serious, russet-colored eyes. He always looks like he's angry, and he hates it. And now his cheek is decorated with scars that match the ones on his arm and chest. He's taken care of the scars there, paranoid about lasting marks that will further mar his appearance and make him seem even scarier to patients.

He tears himself away from his reflection before he can waste entirely too much time staring it down, and instead busies himself with getting dressed. Comfortable jeans and a double-layered henley work well enough for the day; pushing his thick, dark hair off his forehead in a more relaxed form of his daily hairstyle, he goes to have breakfast: a cup of espresso, made from his expensive machine, and a Nutella-filled cornetto he'd made the day before.

Having Gino, the classic tabby and only boy of his sibling trio of cats, curled up in his lap, against his stomach, while Leo has his breakfast makes a tiny part of him begin again to feel like life is worth living.

In the grand scheme of things, it's just another Sunday; so the physician goes to do his grocery shopping. The store is blessedly empty this time of the week so he's able to move around with minimal intrusions. He's spotted by a young patient—who's with his mother, of course—who's shocked to see his doctor somewhere besides the hospital; and Leo exchanges smiles and quick greetings; but he's happy to not get tied up in a conversation, especially with as fragile as he's feeling today.

Once he returns to his safe, cozy home and puts away his shopping, he curls up in bed with a book, as he is wont to do on weekends. It's a smutty romance novel that he's been looking forward to; and his cheeks are hot as he devours the pages eagerly, getting himself wrapped up in the story. Someone as anxious and unattractive and simply boring as him having never even kissed anyone at the ripe age of thirty-six, much less had a torrid romantic affair or been to bed with anyone—at this point, he doesn't expect it to happen. Oh, he certainly wishes it would! How he craves to be chosen, to be loved, to be desired in every which way, how he aches to be kissed until he's out of breath, to be made love to with his hot, sweaty skin stuck to another's!

But whatever God had forsaken him, who he'd forsaken right back, did not make Leonardo to be loved. He was the object of no one’s affections or desires, and hardly the target of even platonic care.

The book isn't very long, and he finishes it in the afternoon, a blush still heating the back of his neck from the lush, sensual details of the romantic and bedroom affairs of the two men on the pages. He scrubs his face with his dry hands, bringing himself back to earth, and to his quiet bedroom. It's about time he started working on dinner; so he wanders into the kitchen, still in a smutty literature haze, and stands quietly in the center as he tries to remember what he wanted to make.

Right. He gathers several things, first: a package of smoked salmon, a package of salami slices, a container of marinated mozzarella balls, some pickled peppers, a jar of marinated mushrooms, a hunk of goat cheese, sun-dried tomatoes, and a jar of olives. The assembly on a plate would probably seem expert to anyone unfamiliar, but his portioning is haphazard and driven by the heart; but with his antipasti gathered, he snacks on that while he works on the actual dinner. The entire time he cooks, Gino rests upon his shoulders, watching intently and digging his claws in to stay upright.

He doesn't eat meals with several courses all the time—it isn't very time-efficient—but it feels like a good day to indulge. So the course after antipasto is pasta; and the fruit of his labor is pasta ca nunnata: spaghetti, olive oil, garlic, parsley, white wine (the only type of alcohol that enters his door is cooking wine), black pepper, and sardines. Cooking is one of the things he's passionate about, especially when it comes to recreating the cuisine of his forefathers. He's pretty damn good at it, if he says so himself, for someone who's only spent a couple of weeks in Italy his entire life despite being a citizen by birthright.

After the pasta is the main dish: pollo alla cacciatora, braised chicken thighs in a rich tomato sauce, with onion and carrots and celery and olives and fresh cherry tomatoes and fennel and capers and white wine and plenty of garlic. It's hearty and filling and it feels so satisfying on an evening with a growing chill. And God, how he wishes he could share it with somebody besides the three cats watching him.

Satisfied with dinner, he washes most of the dishes by hand and puts away the leftovers in the refrigerator, intending on having leftovers for lunch tomorrow at work. With little else to do for the evening, he curls up on the couch with a blanket and turns the TV on, content to binge whatever old movies are playing. To his utter delight, Guess Who's Coming to Dinner is on, starring Sidney Poitier, one of his favorite actors—and an absolute heartthrob in Leonardo's eyes. Maria Pia, the dilute calico and seemingly the leader of her siblings, happily takes a nap in his lap; and he strokes her long fur as he watches the film he's seen countless times, and then the movie after that. When she decides to get up, he unwraps himself from his blanket and returns to the kitchen to feed the cats their nightly wet food; and then finally cuts himself a slice of the cake he'd spent half the previous day making: torta setteveli, seven layers of chocolate and hazelnut goodness. He returns to his movie marathon with his cake and a glass of milk while the cats have their own dinner. He's deemed not to check his email or social media, hoping his birth giver isn't begging him for money yet again, the only reason why she ever attempts to contact him.

Around 9:00, he turns off the TV and leaves only a singular lamp in the living room on. He cleans up the plate he'd used for his slice of cake, then takes a pill that will help him sleep. He's rigid with his structure and routine, never allowing himself to fall out of it, and always retires to bed somewhat early.

After washing his face and brushing his teeth, he changes into his pajamas, the usual combination of flannel pajama pants and a t-shirt, then crawls into bed and turns his bedroom TV on, halfway watching a nature documentary as he settles in for the night. It's a boring life, a boring existence—he's boring. Inconsequential. Harmless. Pointless.

When he turns off the TV and the lights and rolls over in bed, tears sting his eyes again, clouding the dark room. Even with a cat at the foot of the bed, he's cold and lonely, and wishing he had someone to calm the shaking of his bony shoulders, someone to rub his back as he's wracked with quiet tears. Thirty-six years, and he feels like more of a waste than ever.

#leonardo: thoughts #it's a solo for his bday!#depression cw #mental illness tw #it's just 2500 words of depression dawg. idk what else to say #so fun fact: i chose sept 15 for a deliberate reason #in the catholic church it's the feast day of our lady of sorrows #(one of the names for mary the mother of jesus)#commemorating the sorrows she underwent in her life #it felt very appropriate as a bday for Catholic Guilt: The Character #as well as Depression: The Character

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